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Saturday, February 18, 2017

Facebook: What the Hell is Going On?

On Thursday night, as I surfed the web in bed, I came across this meme which gave me a laugh so I posted it to my timeline with a comment saying that, although it was a bit mean it was still quite funny.

At least I thought I posted it to my timeline.

The next morning I checked my FB notifications to see how many of my friends had liked it; needy, pathetic creature that I am.

Horror of horrors, it hadn’t gone on my timeline but instead I’d posted the “Nobody Likes You” meme as a comment on a cute puppy dog video a friend had shared.

Can you even begin to imagine how mortified I was?

Naturally, I immediately deleted it and contacted my friend to explain.

Again, I’m sorry Alana House. Also, sorry to Alana’s sister who must think I’m a right bitch.

Alana replied that she thought it was quite strange because she knows how much I love cute puppy dogs.

If someone had posted something like that as a comment to a video I’d shared, I would have immediately unfriended them in a fit of blustering rage.

Is Facebook out to get me? Is it playing tricks on me, attempting to destroy friendships and discredit me as a bitter, vicious, nasty Nigel?

Or was I just utterly exhausted and didn’t pay attention to where I was posting?

I’ve been getting up at 5 every morning, driving two and a half hours to work and back and attempting to create a competent impression at my new school. Maybe it’s going to take this old woman a while to adjust to hard work again.

I’ve discovered there are three different routes I can take to get to work.

I was boring my son, Hagar, to death as I recited details of my back country road research.

“It’s pronounced ‘rowt’, Mum. Not ‘root’,” he admonished.

I didn’t know he was such a prude. “Is a carrot a ‘rowt’ vegetable then?” I retorted.

Anyway, as I said there are three different routes I can take to work...

1. I can career down a treacherously steep mountain, traverse a sinuous, meandering range and usually get stuck behind ‘Cheryl and David: Retirees at Large’ in their rickety campervan.

(Journey: 1 hour, 13 minutes)

2. I can climb up the precipitous mountain road, before travelling back down again along a spiraling, perilous, seven kilometre death trap of a road and usually get stuck behind a laboured water tank which obstinately refuses to pull over and allow the serpentine trail of cars behind it to pass.

(Journey: 1 hour, 13 minutes)

3. I can anxiously propel my car down the mountain via what is known by the locals as “the goat track”. It is so named because only one goat can fit on it at a time and the terrifyingly sheer drop is merely a pleasant view for mountain goats alone, not acrophobic humans whose knuckles turn white when they are forced to reverse along the track when they espy another car hurtling towards them.

(Journey: 1 hour, 13 minutes)

On the up side, I’m making very good friends with the guy at the servo in Beaudesert.

Have you ever accidentally posted something stupid on Facebook?