This post is actually a post I've had saved as a document on my hard drive for well over a year now titled "Meagan's Rant II" (the post explains what happened to my first rant, so keep going). It's mostly about Facebook (a.k.a. CaraLibro or Feisbuk), and is slightly antiquated as good ol' FB has done away with being a "fan" of anything and is now on a strictly like-based system. However, I feel most of my points are no less valid than they were however long ago it was I originally wrote this.
With enough poular demand, I might even let my first rant see the light of day... but without further ado:
Meagan’s Rant TWO
It’s been a while since I had a rant. The last one was triggered by having to wake up and go to work, and a half-awake daydream I had about me running the world. Nobody really read that one because I never posted it. I might go back and post it at some point because it’s horribly out of date now. But now I have a completely new subject to rant about – Facebook.
Some friends of mine convinced me to sign up for Facebook about a year and a half ago. On the plus side, it is a good way to keep up with friends who live far away. On the minus side, your friends who live ten minutes away sometimes post the minutiae of their daily lives, such as “I’m going to go take a shower now!”, “Breakfast time!”… you get the idea.
It has come to my attention that some types of people on Facebook really need to be removed. Here they are in no particular order. Enjoy.
TYPE 1 – The Drama/Attention Whore
These people are pretty darn easy to spot. They’re the ones who change their status from “in a relationship” to “single”, then make five or six other posts over the course of the next hour hinting about that change but never actually just SAYING, “Frank and I broke up, and I’m upset about it.” It’s like they want you to notice and ask them about it, but if nobody notices their world will fall apart so they have to make SURE someone notices.
Another variation on this type is the person who posts something like, “OMG I AM SO UGLY!!!” or “I hate myself and I want to die…” just so all their friends will comfort them with a flood of reassuring comments. These people need to die. Or at least get off Facebook and get a therapist.
TYPE 2 – The Vaguebooker
The Vaguebooker is a close cousin to the Drama/Attention Whore, and in fact some Vaguebookers ARE Drama/Attention Whores in disguise. The M.O. of the Vaguebooker is to post a status update just open-ended and vague enough to get people to ask a bunch of questions about what was meant. Such as “…is starting to get really excited about something special” or “How can it itch that much?” or even just “Ugh”.
TYPE 3 – The Multi-Profiler
Multi-Profilers are usually women. I say this, because one of the primary habits of the Multi-Profiler is to make profiles on Facebook for their children who are too young to read “so Suzie can play the games.” The real reason, however, is more like, “so Suzie’s mom can have control of several profiles, with which to get more points on Farmville/Mafia Wars/Petville/whatever the game du jour is.”
Multi-Profilers need to be banned from Facebook, and they need jobs and lives. And probably a therapist.
TYPE 4 – The Ego-Centrist
The Ego-Centrist is that annoying person on your friends list who responds to your every posting as though it were intended for them alone. The Ego-Centrist is not conscious of the fact that you have 85 OTHER friends on your Facebook. The Ego-Centrist does not believe in their existence. If you post something about how “some people really get on your nerves sometimes”, the Ego-Centrist will assume that you mean that they are getting on your nerves, they will get offended, and they will ask why you didn’t just SAY something to them.
A short time later you will remove the Ego-Centrist from your friends list.
TYPE 5 – The Moron
I really couldn’t think of a better name for this type. They are the much dumber cousin of the Ego-Centrist. They make the same mistake of taking your updates much too literally, but not as personally. For example, someone I know who has been married for upwards of 15 years just finally got around to changing her status to “married” on her Facebook profile the other day. A shocking number of Morons cropped up on her friends list and in her comments, congratulating her, asking her if they were going on honeymoon, and expressing their shock that she and her spouse had not been married all this time. Morons…
Admittedly some people, myself included, like to comment on these updates jokingly. I did in fact comment congratulating her on her “recent” marriage, but with wording and emoticons that made it clear I was joking. Many of her comment-leavers were clearly not joking. These people need to be wiped off the face of Facebook.
TYPE 6 – The Social Activist/Rabid Fan
I was originally going to separate these two, but I’ve decided to lump them together under this heading because it’s a variation on the same problem. Facebook allows you to become a “fan” of just about anything someone makes a page for… from TV shows, to books, to cities, to “making squares on the desktop by clicking and dragging the mouse pointer.” (Seriously, you can become a fan of that.)
The Rabid Fan is a fan of every trivial thing you can think of and many things that never would have occurred to you. He/she is a fan of “Why can’t my shampoo and conditioner run out at the same time?!”, “The uncontrollable laughter you get when you’re overly tired”, “Changing a word because you can’t spell the word you wanted to use,” and even, ironically, “Become a fan if becoming a fan is addictive.”
The Social Activist is a cousin of the Rabid Fan. The Social Activist seems to believe that if a large number of people become Facebook fans of the same cause/idea, it can change the world. These people think, for example, that if they can find 1,000,000 fans for “Repeal Obamacare!” on Facebook, it might actually get repealed. In actual fact, if they can find 1,000,000 fans for “Repeal Obamacare!” on Facebook, they will have found 1,000,000 people who are spending way too much time on their computer to actually effect any change in the world at all. You think Obama/Congress cares if you can get 1,000,000 people to fan “Repeal Obamacare!”? No they do not. Especially since 1,000,000 is kind of a drop in the bucket when you consider that an estimated 308,971,000 people live in the United States of America. Sure, become a fan of your social activism cause of choice, but then get off your computer and go DO something about it. Sheesh.
TYPE 7 – The Witty Wannabe
This is a fairly recent development on Facebook, but people have now discovered that when you can’t think of something witty and/or profound to put in your Facebook status, you can now get a random status generator to do it for you! This kinda makes me throw up in my mouth a little. The fact that you’re spending that much time worrying about having a witty/profound status update indicates that you’re spending WAY too much time on Facebook, which is probably why you haven’t got anything witty/profound to say… you haven’t DONE anything recently except be on Facebook, and updating your status with “…is on Facebook” would just be admitting to the world how lame you have become. Please go get a life. But don’t come back and post status updates about it, ‘kay?
March 29, 2013
March 19, 2013
Functional relationships are cool!
For whatever reason, it seems that it has taken being in a healthy, functional relationship for the first time in my life to really realize how profoundly messed up all the others were. Sure, they were varying degrees of messed up (with my actual marriage being the most messed up by a landslide), but none of them have been what you'd call "functional" or even "stable" until now. So yes, this blog is going to consist of me getting a little more mushy than usual on the subject of the Old Curmudgeon, as he is known in the blogosphere. Deal with it.
As you may or may not have gathered, the Old Curmudgeon and I were friends in elementary school. I would go so far as to say he was my best friend, though I'm not sure that was mutual at the time. I'll forgive him for that. I think this is actually a key factor in our functionality. Not only are we friends now, but we were friends when we were 10. And 9. And 8. We have history. History going back to September of 1990. And I think we work now in part because we worked then. Also in part because neither of us has changed all that much since July of 1993, which was the last time we saw each other prior to June of 2012. We still both giggle at fart jokes and explosions. We both would still rather watch a show with some educational content in it as opposed to, say, Jersey Shore. We're still both nerdier than standard on the subject of geography. And yes, we have our differences. Some of them are pretty major. Yet, from what I've seen so far, our differences seem to balance each other out for the most part. We are able to use our different strengths and work together for a common goal, be it something relatively minor like cleaning the house from top to bottom in under two hours (which we did Sunday) or something bigger like planning and executing a three day trip to attend someone's wedding (which we did in August when we were still fairly new at this).
I think another very good thing in our relationship is mutual respect. I read his resume not long after we started hanging out again because he asked me to edit it for him. I was totally blown away by what he had accomplished in the 19 or so years since I last saw him. To me, his competence is not in question, which I guess is kind of a big deal because I question everyone's competence. My resume doesn't look as good as his (not even close, really), but it seems he can respect my accomplishments in other areas besides work. So on those occasions when we do not agree (and believe me, it happens), thus far we have been able to discuss logically, and so far these discussions have ended with one person or the other conceding that the other is correct. Yes, we can both admit when we've been wrong. And we both have been wrong on occasion.
Another cool thing (and maybe the best thing) is that I feel supported by a partner for the first time in ever. I don't have to do absolutely everything anymore. If I get off work late for reasons beyond my control, the Old Curmudgeon is totally okay with taking the Chamaco to karate class. Sometimes dinner is already cooking when I get home from work. Sometimes we do stuff together, all three of us, and it feels like a family. That may actually be the coolest thing... Some guys I've dated in the last decade have not wanted anything to do with the Chamaco. Needless to say, those dates were isolated one-time occurrences. The Old Curmudgeon, however, has bravely stepped into a parenting role that nothing in his experience prepared him for. He has no children of his own and didn't have what you'd call a fantastic relationship with his own father, but he's giving it a go anyway. And sometimes I think he stresses way more about parenting than I do, but he's new... he'll relax into it. I just appreciate that he's willing to do it. Without me even asking. That's a real man right there... I once read a quote to the effect of, "Any idiot male can make a baby, but it takes a MAN to be a father." Yeah, that's it.
The bottom line, really, is this: at this time last year I didn't know if he was even still alive or remembered me at all. Now I can't imagine a day without him.
As you may or may not have gathered, the Old Curmudgeon and I were friends in elementary school. I would go so far as to say he was my best friend, though I'm not sure that was mutual at the time. I'll forgive him for that. I think this is actually a key factor in our functionality. Not only are we friends now, but we were friends when we were 10. And 9. And 8. We have history. History going back to September of 1990. And I think we work now in part because we worked then. Also in part because neither of us has changed all that much since July of 1993, which was the last time we saw each other prior to June of 2012. We still both giggle at fart jokes and explosions. We both would still rather watch a show with some educational content in it as opposed to, say, Jersey Shore. We're still both nerdier than standard on the subject of geography. And yes, we have our differences. Some of them are pretty major. Yet, from what I've seen so far, our differences seem to balance each other out for the most part. We are able to use our different strengths and work together for a common goal, be it something relatively minor like cleaning the house from top to bottom in under two hours (which we did Sunday) or something bigger like planning and executing a three day trip to attend someone's wedding (which we did in August when we were still fairly new at this).
I think another very good thing in our relationship is mutual respect. I read his resume not long after we started hanging out again because he asked me to edit it for him. I was totally blown away by what he had accomplished in the 19 or so years since I last saw him. To me, his competence is not in question, which I guess is kind of a big deal because I question everyone's competence. My resume doesn't look as good as his (not even close, really), but it seems he can respect my accomplishments in other areas besides work. So on those occasions when we do not agree (and believe me, it happens), thus far we have been able to discuss logically, and so far these discussions have ended with one person or the other conceding that the other is correct. Yes, we can both admit when we've been wrong. And we both have been wrong on occasion.
Another cool thing (and maybe the best thing) is that I feel supported by a partner for the first time in ever. I don't have to do absolutely everything anymore. If I get off work late for reasons beyond my control, the Old Curmudgeon is totally okay with taking the Chamaco to karate class. Sometimes dinner is already cooking when I get home from work. Sometimes we do stuff together, all three of us, and it feels like a family. That may actually be the coolest thing... Some guys I've dated in the last decade have not wanted anything to do with the Chamaco. Needless to say, those dates were isolated one-time occurrences. The Old Curmudgeon, however, has bravely stepped into a parenting role that nothing in his experience prepared him for. He has no children of his own and didn't have what you'd call a fantastic relationship with his own father, but he's giving it a go anyway. And sometimes I think he stresses way more about parenting than I do, but he's new... he'll relax into it. I just appreciate that he's willing to do it. Without me even asking. That's a real man right there... I once read a quote to the effect of, "Any idiot male can make a baby, but it takes a MAN to be a father." Yeah, that's it.
The bottom line, really, is this: at this time last year I didn't know if he was even still alive or remembered me at all. Now I can't imagine a day without him.
March 13, 2013
Why I hate being on call....
As most of you are probably aware by now, I manage apartments. Probably the single thing I hate most about it is the company cell phone that I have to carry at all times. I am also supposed to answer it any time it rings, day or night. The primary reason is because it's the number residents can call 24/7 for maintenance emergencies. I don't mind that so much... those are few and far between, and I can see that as a necessary evil.
What I mind, however, is the fact that the same phone number is the number that people who view our Craigslist ad are directed to call for more information. So when the phone rings, it could be a resident calling with a maintenance emergency, but more often it's someone wanting to know how much it is for a two bedroom apartment. One of these groups of people I can safely ignore for the hour I'm in church, the other I can't. Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing which it is unless I answer the phone. I don't know whose idea this setup was, but I don't like it, and occasions like this morning are why.
This morning I decided to dye my hair, which I've been trying to find a chunk of time to do since I bought the dye a couple of weeks ago. This says something about my life... I can't find an uninterrupted hour in which to put goo on my head and wash it out. But I digress... my point is that I decided I was going to do it this morning, come hell or high water. So I was busily pouring black goo on my head when I hear the company cell phone ringing in on my bed where I left it.
ME: (inside my head) Crap... it's probably a sales call. I'll just ignore it and call them back if they leave a message.
And I go about my business, and I hear the missed call beep. Less than a minute later, it rings again. This usually means one of two things: 1) it's a resident with a maintenance emergency and they're mad that I didn't answer the phone, or 2) it's a sales caller who refuses to accept that the property might not be open for business at 8 AM. It was also possible that it could have been two separate callers. So I sighed, took off the gloves, and started racing down the hall to get the phone, splattering blue-black hair dye on the bathroom wall in the process. I missed the call, and when I looked at the missed calls it was the same number twice. And it wasn't one I recognized, but that doesn't mean it's not a resident... just means it's not a resident who calls often.
So I started carrying the phone back toward the bathroom and dialed the call I missed. Here's the entire course of the conversation:
ME: Hi, this is Meagan from ___________ Apartments. I just missed a call from this number.
HIM: Oh, yeah. I was looking at your ad on Craigslist for 2 bedroom 1 bathroom apartments and I had a question. What school district are you in?
ME: Centennial.
HIM: Okay, thanks ma'am. (hangs up)
Well, crap. Now to deal with the hair dye on the bathroom wall. At my old apartment in Molalla I had dealt with this before. Spray with Awesome, wipe, done. This is when I discovered that my employer apparently uses cheap paint... it took the paint right off the wall.
I guess it's fortunate that I'm the manager and have keys to the paint room. Is it Friday yet?
What I mind, however, is the fact that the same phone number is the number that people who view our Craigslist ad are directed to call for more information. So when the phone rings, it could be a resident calling with a maintenance emergency, but more often it's someone wanting to know how much it is for a two bedroom apartment. One of these groups of people I can safely ignore for the hour I'm in church, the other I can't. Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing which it is unless I answer the phone. I don't know whose idea this setup was, but I don't like it, and occasions like this morning are why.
This morning I decided to dye my hair, which I've been trying to find a chunk of time to do since I bought the dye a couple of weeks ago. This says something about my life... I can't find an uninterrupted hour in which to put goo on my head and wash it out. But I digress... my point is that I decided I was going to do it this morning, come hell or high water. So I was busily pouring black goo on my head when I hear the company cell phone ringing in on my bed where I left it.
ME: (inside my head) Crap... it's probably a sales call. I'll just ignore it and call them back if they leave a message.
And I go about my business, and I hear the missed call beep. Less than a minute later, it rings again. This usually means one of two things: 1) it's a resident with a maintenance emergency and they're mad that I didn't answer the phone, or 2) it's a sales caller who refuses to accept that the property might not be open for business at 8 AM. It was also possible that it could have been two separate callers. So I sighed, took off the gloves, and started racing down the hall to get the phone, splattering blue-black hair dye on the bathroom wall in the process. I missed the call, and when I looked at the missed calls it was the same number twice. And it wasn't one I recognized, but that doesn't mean it's not a resident... just means it's not a resident who calls often.
So I started carrying the phone back toward the bathroom and dialed the call I missed. Here's the entire course of the conversation:
ME: Hi, this is Meagan from ___________ Apartments. I just missed a call from this number.
HIM: Oh, yeah. I was looking at your ad on Craigslist for 2 bedroom 1 bathroom apartments and I had a question. What school district are you in?
ME: Centennial.
HIM: Okay, thanks ma'am. (hangs up)
Well, crap. Now to deal with the hair dye on the bathroom wall. At my old apartment in Molalla I had dealt with this before. Spray with Awesome, wipe, done. This is when I discovered that my employer apparently uses cheap paint... it took the paint right off the wall.
I guess it's fortunate that I'm the manager and have keys to the paint room. Is it Friday yet?
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