Sick to death

Facebook makes me the tiniest bit nuts. Don't get me wrong: I love it. I see no circumstance under which I would abandon it. But there are some things that make me crazy.


It's not the platform itself so much as the people who use it that are making me batty-bats. And before you even point it out, let me say that I realize all of my fascinating updates, i.e. the one I just did this evening: Eden is officially sitting up. She's a genius . . .


. . . are not for everybody. I am fully aware that MY updates are collectively, to someone else, one of those Christmas cards they get that makes them roll their eyes/laugh themselves silly/write a parody for SNL. I GET IT. 


But I still have my own pet peeves that have nothing to do with people whose children are just too precious for words--like mine. (Shut up. THEY ARE.)


So here we go. And if you want to know if I'm talking about you, yes, I am. And I say that because even if I said I wasn't, you would still think I am, you narcissist. So go ahead and assume I mean you (even though I don't).


You know who gets paid a lot of money to sit around and listen to health complaints? A DOCTOR. You know who doesn't? ME. So why inflict a list of ailments on everyone day after day in a never ending stream of status updates?


Seriously, do you know this person? The one who, out of ten updates, will include at least eight about aches, pains, sniffles, gas, burps, sneezes, and other minutiae related to their plumbing that no one BUT THEIR MOTHER cares about, and oh-my-gosh-by-now-even-SHE-is-sick-of-it? Because you know these people have been at it their whole lives. You know little Meg* (that's made up--insert your offender's name here) spoke her first words in this order:


"Dada."
"Mama."
"I have this blinding stabbing pain that is just killing me behind my right eye. And my bowels! Don't even get me started. Actually, that's the problem. I'm so constipated. It's like you're putting cheese in my sippy cup."


I firmly believe the reason that these people keep up a constant stream of this on Facebook is because they have exhausted all their real life friends.


Unfriend them! you say. No. That's mean. Complaining about them on my blog is much nicer.


I hide them. Then I'm not bugged and their feelings aren't hurt. (You still think it's you, don't you?)


I don't mind if you're not feeling so good every once in a while and you report on it. "Cold today. Ugh." I will say, "Bummer." And I'll probably check with you tomorrow to see how you're feeling.


But if you're news feed looks like this:


Jane Doe is sick again.
Jane Doe has a headache.
Jane Doe feels nauseous.
Jane Doe needs a good poop.
Jane Doe stubbed her toe.
Jane Doe got a paper cut.
Jane Doe's paper cut really hurts. Guys, I think I'm getting lockjaw.
Jane Doe just got back from the ER. Doc says it's not lockjaw. What a quack.
Jane Doe realized the doctor isn't a quack. It's not lockjaw, it's GANGRENE.
Jane Doe desperately needs someone to comment on my multiple pity grabs.


Well, then YOU have a problem.


But I don't any more. Because I hid you, remember?


P.S. I have no idea how this fits with my recent resolution to become a much kinder person, but I can't tell you how much better I feel for saying it.