Facebook is Dead to Me, and other tales of woe

Well Gentle Readers, it's official: as far as fun on Facebook is concerned for me, les jeux sont faits. Most of you have already seen my tales of high school woe as awoken anew in my prior article about Facebook.

(Note how I get all fancy by using the word article to describe the drivel that I publish on this blog. Oops, now I said publish. Hee hee.)

Well as of about 23 hours ago, Facebook became officially dead to me, at least in the sense of my being able to share anything pretty personal on it. Because due to my prior stupidity of letting ONE WORK FRIEND join my group, my former BOSS is now my Facebook friend.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Not that it matters, really. So far on Facebook there is really nothing to hide. A few of you who are on Facebook do call me "CP" there, but that in itself is not enough to out me as the world's crabbiest blogger who maintains the warmest and most welcoming webspace on the Internets.

My beef with my prior boss joining my little Facebook universe is that it completely kills off any possibility of being my true bitchy self on that forum. And what's the point of that?

Not that I wasn't bitchy to his face when he was my boss; far from it, in fact. I regularly bullied him into meetings and conference calls with all the enthusiasm and aplomb of a guy completely unafraid of ever losing his job. On more than one occasion I even berated him publicly for interrupting me and/or not letting me talk enough during our team meetings. I think he may have been a little afraid of me. No one really knows what to do about such a loose canon.

But, because I'm not as retarded as I sometimes pretend to be, I was always careful to preserve my crustiness to in person contacts and NEVER to memorialize my virtual hemmorhages in writing. My pretend life online is where I get it all down on (virtual) paper, for the sick pleasure of my Gentle Readers.

Anyway, I can't exactly drop out of Facebook now, but I'll have to be doubly, no, triply extra careful of anything I decide to put up there now.

Crustily yours,

CP

PS: "CP" is fine, Facebook friends, but if anyone accidentally calls me by my full blog name, "Coaster Punchman," while on Facebook, I may have to go up the river and take names. And you should all know what that means!

A few random thoughts late on a Friday night

This is not our house, but it may as well be.

I really need to check in with my Beloved and Gentle Readers more often. Every now and again I go back and read some old post of mine and then I see the comments which are usually funnier than the post. I laugh and laugh, and then think "why don't we do this any more?" Then I down half a bottle of vodka and call it a night.


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I hate what Proposition 8 has done to my personality. It has made the world black and white for me. Everyone is either with me or against me. Every person I see on the street, I think "I wonder how he voted on Prop 8?" Sometimes I automatically assume someone voted "Yes on 8" based on their haircut, and then I spend ten minutes feeling violent hatred toward them. This can't be healthy.


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My life is really, really dull right now. I work during the day (pretty much a 9-5 schedule unless I have to drive to Orange County in which case I get home later) and then spend between two and four hours in the evening making repairs to our new house. Being Mr. Fix-It and Mr. Painter and Mr. "Open-the-fucking-painted-shut-windows" is REALLY BORING, especially when I'm doing it all alone. At least if Poor George were here it might be more bearable. But right now I'm cursing the fact that we bought a fixer-upper. I am ready to be done with all of it and enjoy the fruits of my labor. Ha, that'll be the day.


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The people we bought the house from should be lined up and shot for their criminal sense of style and color. Every room was painted in some barf tone, and there are all these "adorable" little accents like light switch covers with flowers all over them. Giving this house a makeover will be one of the nicest things I've ever done for humanity. No one should ever have had to look at this shit.


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It's kind of rude of me to complain about my house with the terrible state of the economy, with people losing their houses left and right. But I never claimed to be a nice guy.


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Good night.