Margaret BauerThefacebook: benefit to the college community, or time wasting stalker tool? Hell, who cares (can’t it be both?)? As I sat at my computer two weekends ago, browsing through Thefacebook yet again (yet again meaning for the 14th thousandth time) in order to put off writing a research paper, a feeling of emptiness came over me. Yet, after eating some delicious Bear’s Den chicken fingers, the emptiness remained. Four packs of Sour Patch Kids later, I still felt a hollowness that could no longer be attributable to hunger as well as a growing nausea, which was directly attributable to the Sour Patch Kids. I realized that there was nothing left to do with TheFacebook; I had practically memorized each person’s favorite movies and personal quotes, and my “Diane Lane Fan Appreciation Club (St. Louis Chapter)” Group was already thirty members strong. Then I thought back to the Highlander movies with Christopher Lambert, specifically the part where he said, “There can be only one.”
There was only one thing left to do: conquer Facebook. Since columns only loosely based on athletics has become my M.O., I guess you could consider Facebooking to be the newest Extreme sport. In Facebook, much like the Thunderdome, only without Tina Turner, there is only one rule: Mel Gibson sucks. Perhaps a better Extreme sports comparison to Facebook would be Global Guts, (because that show was awesome) except they really do not have much in common with each other besides my mutual obsession. In either case, the real rule of Facebook is that he who has the most friends is the champ.
So I began clicking, my goal being to Facebook friend every one of my classmates in the class of 2008. With 107 pages and 10 profiles per page, that meant, well, you do the math (I can’t do long division). It wasn’t going to be easy; soon I realized that the bastards at Facebook only allow a measly 100 pending friend requests at once. Also, I didn’t know any of the people I was requesting. The latter proved to be less of an impediment than I anticipated, a statement of either my charisma as a Facebookee or on just how low the criteria for Facebook friending is (I prefer the former).
Soon I became inundated with messages-over 40 of them. Most were genuinely confused about where they knew me and were apologetic:
[ Read Message ]
To: Dan Novack
Subject: Hey what’s up?
Message: so… are you on (organization removed)?
or did i meet you when i was drunk?
Some were bolder, even more accusatory in tone:
To: Dan Novack
Subject: i dont know who you are
Message:
A select few were not so diplomatic:
To: Dan Novack
Subject: ?
Message: who the f*** are you
Regardless of these “haterz,” I managed to get over 700 friends (at press time, I was unable to finish the last 10 pages) and a revived sense of self worth. However, one man, or animal, still stands in my way: the Wash U Bunny, he of over a thousand friends. The next paragraph is for you, asswipe:
I know where you are, and I see how the birds defecate on you all of the time. Nobody even likes you or understands why you are here. If you were not made of stone I would personally plant my size eight-and-a-half shoe (you dirty devil!) up your ass. But know this: your time will come. Aight!
What lessons did I learn? How has this experience changed me? Did Teresa really lose her baby (OC fans please email me your thoughts on that one)? I leave you with these questions because I certainly don’t intend to answer them.
Remember friends, there are still well over 3,000 of you out there who are not currently my Facebook friend. Please do not hesitate to friend request me, because I fully intend on becoming the most badass Facebooker there ever was and ever will be- in the words of the Macho Man Randy Savage: “Oh YeeeeeeeAH!”