Delete Watch 2011

I have spent all day today watching the Facebook status of a “friend.” Not a real friend. A Facebook Friend. For me, Facebook friends run the gamut from people I met once at a party (not friends) to people who know about my irrational fear of glitter (real, old school friends).
Well one of my not real friends has been posting all day about deleting people. She’s left our old town and is refreshing her life. She has been posting updates about purging 700 or so of her not real friends. This brings me great pain. We are not friends, but her posts are so deliciously self-absorbed, unintentionally comical, and oft times very, very poorly worded. I’m the first to say that I am a hot grammatical mess on a good day, but this chick actually owned a magazine. Besides, I’m a standup comic, no one expects me to be correct at anything. Her posts are like sonatas for the comic in me: ”Why everbod be hating on me because I got stuff. Don’t let haters be hold you be. Let Get It.” Translation from grammatebonics: “I have nice things and people are jealous of me because I’m fabulous.” She constantly posts professional pictures of her son, the model. Look, I know everyone is a child of God, but the modeling business has rules. This kid is not cute.
So, all day she’s been updating how many folks she’s put behind her little iron curtain. So far I’m still part of her close circle of 1,000. But, I suspect the time is coming when I’m out. I’m bracing myself. I’ll miss you. I’ll miss pictures of your ugly kids. I’ll miss pictures of your big house that’s in foreclosure. I’ll miss pictures of the Benz your Mama has to lease for you because your credit is as bad as mine, and you have a job.
I realize this is not Christian or nice of me. I know. I am human. I don’t want to be cut because I get a sick thrill of seeing what’s going on in her world “errday” as my dear Facebook friend says. Without her, I’m nothing. Without her, I am left with real friends to care about, pray for, and encourage. Being Oprah for free is exhausting! But being a kinder, gentler version of Lewis Black when I read her posts from 1,000 miles away, finger pointing, screaming, and all, makes me a better friend to my real friends. Since I don’t have a real job, and I don’t have day to day contact with people other than those who expect me to be in charge of procuring them a juice box or a beer; it is the closest thing I get to having a co-worker to hate.
I need you Facebook Friend. Please don’t delete me! Of course, I could shut down this whole sick mess by unfriending her. Nah, I’ll just wait and see…