WARNING: Mom (and various minors that might be reading this), there are a LOT of f-bombs.
If you have a tendency to fat-finger your facebook posts on your phone, you should probably make sure you don’t have any links on your imaginary clip board that you can mistakenly “paste” and subsequently “post” at the MOST inappropriate moment possible.
Speaking from a person that constantly passive-aggressively cries for attention (like when I originally sent the linked photo in question to friends via facebook messaging just to get a laugh), this will be the moment that you hope everyone, without exception, is completely ignoring you. And it will go something like this.
Aloud: Oh. Frack.
Demented Voice In My Head (DVIMH): No. NO. NO! NOOO!! Delete, DELETE! Where is the fucking delete button!?
Because seriously, there was a time when I couldn’t touch my screen without this little “remove” button popping up. But probably someone like me kept bitching at facebook about it until they took it away and now I have no fucking delete button on my phone app.
Okay, obviously hitting the screen eight hundred and forty-seven times is not helping my situation.
(And here is where, if you are Joe Koval, you walk me through how, in fact, there IS a delete button on the iPhone if you just sweep your finger gently over your post to the right. FUCK ME!)
Of course our company has firewalls that prevent using facebook on their network, because we all know how much little work we would get done if they didn’t.
Fine, internet police, I’ll just grab my laptop and head over to the hotel lobby next door. All I have to do is wait ten years for the elevator to arrive and another ten years to stop on EVERY FUCKING FLOOR on the way to the lobby.
Hmmm…no wireless signal. That’s funny, my phone is clearly picking one up.
DVIMH: I’m only trying to rectify a grievous violation of decorum, Karma! I’m only sitting here, trying to do the right thing, Universe!
Fine. My laptop is obviously confused by the many wireless signals floating around too close to my office. I will go to the library.
SHIT! Why is my fucking laptop not picking up a fucking wireless signal! Time to call the people that have no business answering questions about technology, otherwise known as the Help Desk.
Aloud: Hello, my laptop is not picking up a wireless signal.
Help Desk: Are you in your office?
Aloud: No, I’m in a public library.
Help Desk: Is your wireless enabled?
DVIMH: I would only make that mistake once, dude, and it happened like five years ago!
Help Desk continues to read questions off his script of “how big of an idiot is the person I’m talking to?”
DVIMH: GET ME MY FUCKING WIRELESS, NOW! Please.
Twenty-six minutes later, wireless enabled, proxy disabled, post deleted. That’s one hell of a lunch hour.
Because yes, Virginia, there are people in this world that obsess over being inconsiderate on facebook - so much so that they scream obscenities in their head to innocent bystanders.
In a totally unrelated incident…
This Sunday, a lady that was stopped at the intersection that Scott’s race course went through rolled down her window and yelled (not in her head, mind you, out loud) “Come on! I’m going to CHURCH! And I’m going to be LATE!” And I mean she yelled at the volunteer and the police officer about being late to church. Am I the only one that sees the irony in that?
An act that caused my seven year old to turn to me and ask, “Why is she being so mean?”
DVIMH: Oh, I don’t know, Morgan. Maybe her god is okay with running over cyclists with her minivan, but not so fond of tardiness.
I’m wondering when this woman bowed her head for silent prayer if it went something along the lines of, “Lord, forgive me for missing the opening hymn and church announcements. It was that damn volunteer. Please smite her down if you find the time.”
Maybe if you are so worried about being late you shouldn’t cut it so close that you can’t wait less than five minutes at an intersection.
In the end, I knew it wasn’t the hapless Help Desk employee’s fault, or even the app creators at facebook. (It’s a little bit Mark Zuckerberg’s fault, but that goes without saying.) I made the mistake, and that is why I was very careful to keep all my swearing internal.
So yeah, I’m okay with being the person that feels so guilty about posting a picture of ginger adorableness (it wasn’t even the NAKED one) with a post that was supposed to be a sincere remembrance of 9/11 that I take an entire lunch hour to remedy the situation (regardless of the fact that it should have taken me two seconds).
God Bless America and God Bless Prince Harry