31 December 2018

The Facebook Police

Found this entry on Facebook from 2016. I forgot I wrote this....enjoy.

I was put in Facebook Jail by the Facebook Police "FBP" because I was pretending to be me.

I swear I am not making this up. They were going to have me scan in a government-issued ID with my birth date.

They were going to be so surprised opening an image of my 15 year old face on my old passport.

Changing my wireless to a cell phone IP and suddenly FB changed their minds. Since I'm no longer a danger to Tide Pod Memes, the FBP requested I change my password and identify a bunch of friend's photos.

If I haven't said it before I'll say it now... I have freaking gorgeous friends. But what would you expect, you being you?

This FBP tomfoolery started this morning. But this morning wasn't my normal morning.

I woke up at a quarter to 6 as hubby said goodbye. He wanted a hug before he left for work because today is Valentine's Day and that's what you do on Valentine's Day even though he does this every other day of the week.

He reached in the dark. I sat up quickly in bed trying to wake up and figure out the quickest route to getting a full coffee mug in my hand. As I leaned over to the light switch, he reached his arm around me to give me a hug. He preceded to punch me in the face while simultaneously poking me in the eye with his knuckles. He couldn't see me in the dark. I couldn't see through the tears.

* insert rude joke about being poked on Valentine's Day*

He felt bad but probably not as bad as my cornea. Once I was awake and done breathing through the pain, I said thanks to the Lord for the appearance of Shark Week. Nothing says Happy Valentine's like, "I love you honey, I'm super hormonal and bloated".

I walked to my van and marveled at the skiff of snow on the ground. I opened up the driver's door and also marveled at the skiff of snow all over my driver's seat. Hubs left the window open an inch. All night long.

This is where I prayed for Jesus to take the wheel. I utilized a lined, heavy duty windbreaker as a makeshift wetness barrier. It's not too uncomfortable if you don't mind sitting on a giant, rubber diaper. It's only at this point I realized that I am completely out of gas because the gaslight is not just yellow but past the "E" for Everyone Push.

On the road. Made it on fumes to the gas station. Fill up or not. My debit card got today's memo and went on strike. Credit cards are designed not to function when you're late for work, been punched in the face, and completely out of gas. It makes no difference whether or not you have several hundred dollars in the bank. I had my trusty visa on me, in case. I never use it, except for emergencies. I mean emergencies because the interest rate would undoubtedly lock-in my payments until the year of Our Lord 2076. I don't know about you but charging a $6 latte, no matter how much I try and convince myself, is not an emergency.

My drive to work is uneventful. I park and congratulate myself in getting to work without being attacked by chickens or hit by a meteorite. Today anything can happen. In the 4 seconds it takes for me to take off my seatbelt and grab my purse, I can't tell whether I've dropped my keys in the seat next to me, in my purse, or in my giant, rubber, diaper cushion. Traditionally, keys are lost and discovered later when a twelve year old disguised as a AAA Guy comes and opens my car with a Slim Jim. And I mean the metal kind, not the pepperoni kind. Because really, who opens a locked van with a pepperoni?

Better yet whose driver's seat is a giant, rubber, diaper cushion?

I got through the rest of my work day unscathed however, Hubs and I agreed to celebrations this weekend. Tonight he is spending time with his nephews watching a Chuck Norris movie and I'm spending it with errant hormones and the FB Police.

Happy Valentine's Day, you freaking gorgeous people!

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"One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words."

~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe