Facebook Anniversary or Wedding Anniversary


 

Facebook has been around for ten years or so. At least, that’s when the first wave of schmos realized it was there. MySpace was fad in the rearview mirror. I thought social media – not that I knew that was what it was called – was dead. I logged onto facebook right after the hipsters, who came in on the coattails of affluent ivy league students, who coked it up with the founders. Yes, even with those twins!

Ten years have come and gone in almost a flash. I’ve witnessed people growing up from thousands of miles away. All everyone seems to do is get married and/or have kids. Hell, I remember when all anyone did was play Mafia Wars or that Vampire game that was Mafia Wars, but with Vampires. Here’s a word no one has uttered in four years, Zynga. BAZINGA! They’re still around, just not in my face each time I log in.

With ten years came the anniversary notifications. I used to get them when an odd number of years had passed. Now those odd numbers have evened out and I’m getting the big one-oh. The first one was my wife, which it should be. I logged in like twenty minutes after she did and had a conversation with myself on my wall. The next one I got was from my best friend, Montague Cummingsworth.

Now, Montague and I’ve been friends for closer to thirty years, but our choices split us apart closer to fifteen years ago. Not that we did bad things. Neither one of us got into drugs or macrame. We just went to different universities and ended up moving to northern and southern extremities. Needless to say, we only see each other every couple of few years. Which means six or so.

When we do meet up, there’s a good chance it’s for a wedding. A fact that facebook capitalized on. Of the ten or so shots, each and every single one of them was from a wedding. For the keen eye, there is a difference in our tuxes and ties, but it isn’t easy. At the end was a photo from my wedding. We had taken a shot with our wedding bands on our fingers. It was to show that we had both grown up and fooled some poor women into marrying our dorky asses.

For this video though, it’s the nail in the coffin, the cherry on top, the finishing touch. I started laughing. My wife asked me what was so funny. As I replayed the video for her, I walked her through this narrative.

All those other shots, we’re two guys in tuxedos. We’re always together and sometimes, a little too close. Some shots were just us sitting right by one another. Others, we had a friend between us. Then our hands with rings on them. We’d also happened to like each others posts 69 times. It looked like we’d gotten married! Not that there would be a single thing wrong with it if we had.

 


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The Bird’s The Word, The Bird Forgot The Word

  A few days back, I was having trouble remembering a word. This usually isn’t that big of a deal. A momentary lapse in memory and the word shows up. Or I just use my internal thesaurus and find an acceptable replacement or spray words like a scatter gun, until people get the point. I did the latter.

  In fact, I did it three times in an eight hour-ish period. Because for some reason, the word that I could not recall, couldn’t remember to save my life, I felt like using in three different scenarios. Two of those instances were about the same topic so it’s understandable. The other one was about some other random topic.

  Either way, all the conversations were about taking a couple of different things and putting them together. However, putting these things together and getting them to live in harmony is a bit of challenge. I’d say many sentences and words – oh how the conversation was going so well. Then like a fat kid tripping over the carpet on his run to the buffet for round two of mac and cheese,  the conversation fell flat and immediately stopped. Everyone looked at me, the looks on their faces said, “What’s up with fatty?”

  I stood there in silence, like the wind had been knocked out me. There was stammering. Then, in the presence of mission critical failure, the deluge of words. Some were close, some weren’t. Hell, I even described what I was trying to say and people started blurting out suggestions. Marry is what I landed on, but felt flat. Like drinking water that’s sat for a day.

  However, it did work. The conversation moved on and completed. I went on with life and came home. Around nine that night I was making coffee for the morning. While I was filling the carafe at the sink, I happened to look over at the coffee pot. In that instant, like a sucker punch of knowledge – BOOM! – I saw the word in my head. Its time in the sin bin was up and was once again part of my vocabulary. The word was reconcile!