Ever since the Facebook Phenomenon hit us, my husband has been behaving like a man with a mistress, or a cocaine addiction, or both. He gives his computer screen the sort of loving looks I haven't gotten since we took our wedding vows, and throws me the monosyllabic response that he once reserved for my mother.
When I served him an ultimatum—Facebook or me—he answered at his diplomatic best, "Both!" and promptly signed me up for a Facebook account. He figured: It would be time better spent than nagging him.
So instead of playing shrew, I now spend my free time dodging requests from friends I want to forget; ignoring Pirates vs Ninjas invitations; or yawning through photo after tedious photo of a work acquaintance looking like a drunken twat at her 40th birthday celebration.
Truth be told, there is no greater time-trasher than this laughable version of "virtual friendship." My "friends" on Facebook include: ...