Why Are You Talking to Me?

Don’t interrupt me while I’m playing Bejeweled Blitz, or else you’ll pull back a bloody stump, my friend.

Anybody who has played this insidiously addictive one-minute game on Facebook knows what I’m talking about.

Facebook also has this Instant Messaging / Chat Box thing where any of your “friends” who can see that you are online can start a chat session with you.

99.99999999999999999999% of the time, my status is displayed as “Offline”, so nobody can “chat” with me. Why would I put myself in the position that is the polar opposite of Caller ID, where you can see me, you know I’m there, and I can’t screen the call first? Besides, most of the time, people want to chat me up when I’m not in the mood.

Also? I hate talking to people. I’m anti-social. People suck the life out of me.

You might be asking then, why I have nearly 500 friends on Facebook.

Uhhhhhhhh….

OK, you make a good point. So I decided the other day to open up to my people. Connect with my cyber friends. Stop hating. Let the chatting begin.

And within five minutes a little box at the bottom of my screen opens up and some Random Dude has decided that he wishes to speak to Yours Truly.

RD:  Hi

Well, I’m right in the middle of playing Bejeweled Blitz, the current crack of choice on Facebook right now, so this guy is just going to have to wait. Once I realize that there is no way I’m going to beat my current high score, I abandon the game and type into the little chat box (mind you, less than a minute has passed before I respond).

Me:  Sorry, I was playing a timed online game. Hi.

One would expect the other person to either make some bad joke about online games and “What r u doin?” or some such nonsense, but not this genius. He’s on it. And responds to me thusly:

RD: Hi

Brilliant, right? I mean, I have no comeback for that. So, in virtual space, stuck alone with this guy out on the balcony at the loser party with a bad drink in my hand, and in desperate need of another, I stood there, taken away from my game thinking: Okayyyyyyyyy. In fact, that’s what I wanted to type - Okaaaayyyyyyy…, but that wouldn’t be nice, would it. So what should I say?

Nothing, as it turns out, because this guy has the Art of Conversation down, baby. And goes on just moments later with this:

RD: I like the wii.

Step right up, folks, we have a winner! Because he has once again stumped me. What. Do you say. To that? This chat thing is tempting me to say all kinds of things that I shouldn’t. So I try something else:

Me: I was playing Bejeweled Blitz.

RD: Be careful with games here. They could have viruses that could attack you.

Oh my God, this is so exhausting, but I soldier on:

Me: So I hear.

You might be thinking, boy, she really isn’t helping this guy build a conversation.

And you would be right. And I really don’t care what you think, because you weren’t the one stuck out on the balcony with this talktard while you and everyone else were having a good time at the spinach dip and weenies table inside. I should hurt you for leaving me alone out there.

But wait, he hasn’t given up on me yet:

RD: Yeah.

RD: Be careful.

So, how do you sign off without seeming like a jerk? I mean if you’ve been talking for like a minute at the most, when is the earliest you can say, “well, I gotta be goin’, thanks for all the laughs, Chuckles”?

So I said nothing.

Another agonizing minute or two later:

RD: Well, I gotta be goin’

RD: Bye.

So, anyway, unless one of you can tell me how to be seen as online only by a select set of friends, my little trial of Facebook chat is over.

Sue Bob Davis of the Red Stapler blog was following behind two Pygmy goats (named Bunny and Kitty)  in a Studebaker at the Ventura County Fair Parade on Saturday:

I would like to thank DG of the Diary of a Mad Bathroom blog for this effing fabulous award: