Have you ever noticed the gross imbalance of experts to laypersons in Internetland? It doesn't matter how many articles I read, if there is a "comments" section, it's always teeming with experts on whatever the topic of conversation is that day.
Whether it's health, finance, real estate, celebrity gossip - there has never been a time that an anonymous armchair expert has failed to come to the aid of ignorant readers in a benevolent attempt to set the record straight.
Their word is gospel, and the "comments" section their pulpit.
Hallelujah.
So I've decided that as long as I remain incognito, and post my expertise opinions in random forums floating through the vast nothingness of cyberspace, having nothing to gain or lose by being right or wrong, with absolutely zero accountability or consequence, I, too, can be an expert!
And because I'm a self-proclaimed expert, I can pull from my extensive knowledge of everything to bestow my mind blowing realizations on the collective cyber proletariat.
Fantastic!
I can't wait to share these gems:
* Cancer sniffing dogs accurately predicted the earthquake in Haiti.
* By the year 2034, roughly 22.7% of the population will have been killed by falling space debris.
* Eating a sausage-only diet will result in extreme olfactory sensitivity and possible x-ray vision.
* Reupholstering every item in your home will increase its value by 364%.
* Palm trees eat human souls (and some monkey souls).
* The "S" is silent in the word, "Specific".
* Sacagawea was a lesbian.
It's probably best that you don't refute these claims.
I'm an expert.
Showing posts with label Anti-Social Adventures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anti-Social Adventures. Show all posts
Lesson #1: Facebook Will Ruin Your Social Skills
Dear Future Child,
In the not so distant past I, your future mom, was a social butterfly. (I don't know why the butterfly is considered social, but please just trust me that this is a universally accepted meme, and go with it.) Your mom had scads of friends, and a social engagement or three to attend every weekend. (In my mind) I was ethereal and lovely, witty, enchanting, and a bunch of other convivially superlative adjectives.
In other words, I never met a stranger, and in turn, strangers loved me.
Fast forward 7 years or so.
Now, meeting new people is painful. When I meet people, I find myself standing awkwardly, fidgeting with my rings, stuttering about random things that aren't even true. Mostly. And I'm sure I leave people feeling uneasy, and vaguely questioning whether I ate a lot of paint chips as a kid (Tommy Boy, anyone?).
I wish I had an excuse for this behavior. I want nothing more than to be able to tell you that I had an unfortunate lobotomy experience that resulted in extreme social ineptitude. But I can't. I can't even pinpoint the time of my social (mental?) demise.
I can, however, blame Facebook.
I am convinced that Facebook has turned me into a social doofus, because I just don't know how to relate to people face-to-face anymore. If I don't have time to think up a witty response to a status update, I have nothing.
(Please don't tell my Facebook friends. On Facebook, I can still retain a shred of my formal social glory.)
I fear that I won't even be able to relate to you, my own Future Child, without a blue and white user interface to bond us.
It's cold out here is Social Dweeb Land.
And yes, Future Child, I realize the incredible irony of writing about the tragic loss of my extrovert self on a blog.
Though, I have to say that I'm relieved that you have such a firm grasp on semi-obscure literary devices at such animaginary negative early(?) age.
Love,
Future Mom
P.S. Just to be on the safe side, it's probably best that you never use the Internets at all.
In the not so distant past I, your future mom, was a social butterfly. (I don't know why the butterfly is considered social, but please just trust me that this is a universally accepted meme, and go with it.) Your mom had scads of friends, and a social engagement or three to attend every weekend. (In my mind) I was ethereal and lovely, witty, enchanting, and a bunch of other convivially superlative adjectives.
In other words, I never met a stranger, and in turn, strangers loved me.
Fast forward 7 years or so.
Now, meeting new people is painful. When I meet people, I find myself standing awkwardly, fidgeting with my rings, stuttering about random things that aren't even true. Mostly. And I'm sure I leave people feeling uneasy, and vaguely questioning whether I ate a lot of paint chips as a kid (Tommy Boy, anyone?).
I wish I had an excuse for this behavior. I want nothing more than to be able to tell you that I had an unfortunate lobotomy experience that resulted in extreme social ineptitude. But I can't. I can't even pinpoint the time of my social (mental?) demise.
I can, however, blame Facebook.
I am convinced that Facebook has turned me into a social doofus, because I just don't know how to relate to people face-to-face anymore. If I don't have time to think up a witty response to a status update, I have nothing.
(Please don't tell my Facebook friends. On Facebook, I can still retain a shred of my formal social glory.)
I fear that I won't even be able to relate to you, my own Future Child, without a blue and white user interface to bond us.
It's cold out here is Social Dweeb Land.
And yes, Future Child, I realize the incredible irony of writing about the tragic loss of my extrovert self on a blog.
Though, I have to say that I'm relieved that you have such a firm grasp on semi-obscure literary devices at such an
Love,
Future Mom
P.S. Just to be on the safe side, it's probably best that you never use the Internets at all.
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