Facebook Me

Seems like only yesterday (1996 actually) when I almost failed my computer science requirement in college because I didn’t want to get an email account. Hey, don’t be a hater. Do you know what the process was for getting an email account back then? We had to walk like a mile in the snow (yes, it really was in the snow, lake effect, usually a blizzard, because it was the University at Buffalo) to the “computer” building to sign up for a UNIX PINE account. The “computer” people gave us a system-generated login and password and an instruction manual on how to login to the complex UNIX mainframe using a series of numbers and codes on a dial-up modem that took long enough to connect that you could make a full pot of coffee while you were waiting just to get one stupid ascii text message that usually disappeared before you could finish reading because your roomate accidentally picked up the telephone and disconnected you.

And we didn’t have emoticons back then, so emails caused a lot of fights. 🙂

I ended up getting that email address after all (so I could, like, graduate). Now, a mere decade later, I’m spreading my personal information all around the Internets and turning made-up Web nouns into verbs like it’s my job. You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson after the whole “Sarah Ockler has 0 friends” Myspace debacle, but no. I let my so-called “friends” convinced-slash-invited-slash-pressured me to get Facebook. Don’t make me be the last kid to get picked for kickball. ‘Tis the season, right? So if you have a Facebook account, please…

Facebook me.

I Survived MySpace And All I Got Was Low Self-Esteem

Can we talk about MySpace? My baby brother started it with his band page, and of course my mother just had to have one since she’s a groupie and all. I resisted. I mean, aren’t I a little out of the target market for MySpace? Shouldn’t I have graduated on to FaceBook or Friendster or, say, interacting with people in person?

Frankly, I was tired of all the inside jokes on my mother’s and brother’s MySpaces and figured I’d better get my own, or be left out in the cybercold.

So, I finally got my MySpace on. I got all set up, completed my profile, even added my old high school, despite the fact that actually typing its name almost made my fingers bleed (you longtime readers know how I feel about that subject!). And what happens? What happens on the very site that practically guarantees you instant friends?

Right there in bright red letters it said:

Sarah Ockler has 0 friends.

My own mother has more friends! It was like being in high school again, only worse, because more people will probably see the public humiliation of my digital friend count on MySpace than know the private hell I suffered during the teenaged years.

What’s a girl to do? I added my mother as a friend. She approved me, of course, but not without this loving, encouraging comment:

“Sad…really Sad that your mom is your only friend!!!!”

She even capitalized “Sad” – twice – just to underscore her point!

It’s not true that Sarah Ockler has 0 friends! It’s just that all the friends I added hadn’t approved yet. Which is not to say that they don’t approve of me. They’re just, you know, busy and stuff.


It reminds me of the time in 9th grade when I really thought Paul Becker liked me because he kissed me on the lips during my summer birthday party, but then when I asked him to the homecoming dance at my new school, he kept saying “maybe” and then finally the night before the dance I called him one more time and he told me sorry, he had to babysit his little sister that night.

My mom said, “You call him back and tell him that I will babysit his sister so he can go with you to the dance.”

See, Mom used to stick up for me. Abrasively and embarrassingly, but at least she tried. How quickly times change! Now she’s gloating about being my only friend! So if you have a MySpace – even if you’ve never met me before in your life – please add me as your friend so I don’t feel so lame. My groupie mother will pay you!