The Dirty Truth About Facebook

Okay, so I guess this "Facebook" thing is going to catch on. I apologize for previous predictions that it would go the way of the "Pet Rock."

However, I do see that it is causing far more problems than it causes. I'm not just talking about "Farmville," either. Though, that's pretty bad. I don't know how many people have to invite me to play "Farmville," before everyone realizes that I'm NOT going to do it.

I WON'T!!!

I AM NOT GOING TO DO IT!!!

I REFUSE TO DRINK THE KOOL-AID!!

Nor, am I going to open a cafe, join the mafia, or start a sweet shop. I would be interested in building my own roller coaster. BUT, I have an actual video game for that, so I don't need to do it on "Facebook."

I think the bigger problem starts when we, and we have ALL done it, start looking for past romances, and such,

Yes you have.

YES...YOU HAVE!!!!

LIAR!!!!

LIAR LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE!!!!!

Okay, fine. YOU are the ONLY one who hasn't. There. Happy?

But, for the rest of us (the one's who aren't lying to ourselves,) there have been times when we might have typed in the name of a former love interest, just to see how things turned out.

You know how it goes, right?

You type in their name.

You scan the various profiles that come up.

You see their picture.

Then, you think to yourself: Hey, they look great!! She's even prettier than I remember. You know, things ended on such a sour note, I'm just happy that things turned out okay for her. You know what they call this? Closure. For all these years I've been wondering if she's okay. Now, I know. I think I'll try and "friend" her, and see if she has any kids, or how things turned out for her. I could NOT be happier.

Then, you shoot off a friend request, with a short message that reads: "Hey!! Remember me? LOL. If you ever wanna talk about old times, I would love to hear how things are going. Hope all is well."
Then, we would close up the computer, pick up a good book, and patiently wait to hear from them, at their earliest convenience.

Right?

WRONG!!!!!

ARE YOU FREAKING INSANE!?!!!

THAT'S not how it goes.

THIS....is how it goes.

You are sitting downstairs, in your basement, while the rest of the family is asleep. There is no light, but the flickering glare of the computer screen.

You're tired, and you're not thinking straight. You're done looking at porn....Don't ask how you KNOW you're done. You're just done. Let's leave it at that, okay?.........But, you don't wanna go to bed. Now what?

The flickering light starts to work its way into your brain. Then, instead of reading CNN or The New York Times, your mind starts to wander. Where does it wander, you ask? It wanders to every heartless, witch who broke your heart because you didn't have a nice car, or had an odd sense of humor, or talked like a Muppet, or weren't your brother Steve who is taller, smarter, funnier, and better looking than you. (Note to self: Kill Steve. He's ruined your life.)

So, you start typing in names, and scanning profile pictures, and your true feelings start coming out.

WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY SMILING ABOUT???? HOW COULD THEY POSSIBLY BE HAPPY?? THEY AREN'T WITH ME!!! GEEZ!!!!! IS THAT A WEDDING PICTURE!?!!! SHE GOT MARRIED!!!!! MY GOD!!!!! IT'S ONLY BEEN 15 YEARS!!!!! SHE DIDN'T EVEN WAIT FOR THE BODY TO GET COLD!!!!!!! AND JUST WHO IS THAT GUY!?!! HER HUSBAND!?!! HE'S NOT BETTER LOOKING THAN ME!! WAIT, IS HE BETTER LOOKING THAN ME!?!! OH MY GOD, HE'S BETTER LOOKING THAN ME!!!! SHE ALWAYS TOLD ME THAT LOOKS DIDN'T MATTER!!!! SO, NOT ONLY IS SHE HAPPY, BUT SHE'S A LIAR, TOO!!!! WAIT A MINUTE. ARE THOSE KIDS!?!! THEY HAD KIDS!!!! SO, NOT ONLY DID SHE MARRY SOMEONE ELSE, BUT THEY HAD SEX!?!! WTF!?!! MY GOD, DID I MEAN NOTHING TO HER!?!!
ALRIGHT, THAT'S IT. I'M GOING TO HAVE TO "FRIEND" HER, JUST SO I CAN KEEP AN EYE ON HER. CLEARLY SHE CANNOT BE TRUSTED.

Then, later that next day, she will see that you have sent her a friend request, and a small, long dormant piece of her heart will smile, and she will click "accept." Then, she will look at your pictures, and think about how great it is that you look so happy.

No.

No, she won't.

I Want To Die Of Something Cool

There is a new blog. You can read it on my website at:

www.caseysuniverse.com

If you want to make a comment on it, you can email it to me at:

caseysuniverse@gmail.com

Now, go read.

Thanks,

Casey

Zombies Don't Run...Duh!

New blog up, today. You can find it at my website.

www.caseysuniverse.com

Then, if you are so inclined, you can comment on it by sending an email to caseysuniverse@gmail.com

Thanks.

Casey

Searching For Satellite

There is a new blog up. It is the not-too-much-anticipated SKEEEERY BLOG........Boo.

You can find it in the "blog" section of my website. www.caseysuniverse.com

If you would like to leave any comments about it, good or bad, you can do it at caseysuniverse@gmail.com

Please enjoy....Or not....

Casey

Why, Yes, I Was Bored. Thank You For Asking.

Okay, there is a new blog up. If you would like to read it, just go to my website. www.caseysuniverse.com

If you wanna comment on it, you can do it here. The more hateful ones still amuse me. :)

Enjoy,

Casey

The Curious Case Of Casey Bartholomew

The new blog can be found in the "blog" section of my new website:

www.caseysuniverse.com

Please go there and enjoy.

I love you all, the way people love pictures of kittens.

Casey

Never Wake Up Before God...

I don't like getting up early.

At all.

Never.

Not for anything.

If Carrie Underwood herself came to my room, at 4am, wearing an "Emily Babydoll," from Frederick's of Hollywood (sheer mesh, with petite black bow at the pleated bust. Underwire cups feature foam padding for lift and shape. Matching panty. Nylon/spandex. Imported!!), and begged me to have my way with her, I would probably ask her to come back in a few hours.

You probably think that I'm crazy. But, if Carrie Underwood were willing to leave her current tour, put on an "Emily Babydoll" (It's real. Swear to God), and come to MY house at 4am, I bet she would be willing to wait a couple more hours. Clearly she thinks I'm worth it. I mean, I'M NOT. But, she doesn't know that, yet. She just got here.

Anyway, my son does NOT take after me. I know this because HE got up at 4am, Sunday, and thought nothing of it. He was wide awake, and full of energy. Hell, HE probably would have let Carrie Underwood stay. It wouldn't have been the same, though. He just would have wanted to play "Pat-A-Cake" with her. Dumb kid. He's got Carrie Underwood, right there, in lingerie and all he wants to do is play "Pat-A-Cake." I'm gonna have to have a talk with that boy.

So, he wakes up at 4am, and it was MY turn to get up with him. I know this because my wife kept kicking me in the back, and telling me that it was my turn. I thought about arguing. But, she'd already been kicking me in the back. I was afraid of what might happen if I started talking back. So, I got up.

At 4am God isn't even awake. The sun is not out. Plus, and probably worst, there is NOTHING on TV. It wouldn't have mattered if there was. My son, Max, was AWAKE. When Max is awake, things are okay. When Max is AWAKE nothing, not even the nuclear codes, are safe.

Being a responsible parent, I determined that my 12 month old son doesn't watch nearly enough TV. I also thought it would be cute to Tivo several episodes of a show called "Max and Ruby."

Max!! Get it!?!!

Cute, huh?

Yeah, no one else thought so, either. But, I tried.

Anyway, "Max and Ruby" is a story about brother and sister rabbits named.....Ready?......Max and Ruby. Genius!!! Max is a little boy rabbit, who doesn't speak much. Every so often he will shout out an random word. Usually it's an object that he sees. I imagine that this is not unlike what someone with a traumatic brain injury does. But, Max is just a baby bunny. So, I think he's okay. His sister, Ruby, takes care of him, and treats him more like a doll. I'm not 100% sure, but I believe that Max and Ruby have been abandoned by their parents, because you never see them. We have not, as of yet, reached the point where the house runs out of food, and Max and Ruby have to eat their own flesh in order to survive. I'm sure it's coming. But, we're not there, yet. So, everything is still happy.

I just decided that NOW, at 4am, was the time to get my son interested in TV. So, I plopped him down in the family room, and turned on what was to become a 2-hour, "Max and Ruby" marathon.

YAY, FOR ME!!!!

Max was not interested. But, at 4am, I was enthralled.

The first episode was about how Ruby wanted to have a tea party. However, in a clever plot twist, TV-Max wanted to play ball. You could cut the tension with a knife!!!

Ruby: We're going to have a tea party, Max.

Me: Look, Max!!! They're gonna have a tea party.

TV-Max: Ball.

Me: Uh-oh. It looks like Max, the bunny, wants to play ball. Could get a little dicey.

Real Max: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

Real Max, my son, was attempting the leave the family room, and get into the laundry room. He yells when he does this. Sort of a "Braveheart," yell-for-freedom, kind of thing. So, I had to get up, close the laundry room door, and put up the gate that keeps Real Max from going down the hall. When I came back, TV-Max was very happily playing ball.

Me: Aw!!! What happened?

I could have just rewound it. But, I believe in forward momentum, you see. Plus, I was REALLY tired, and my brain wasn't working right.

In our next episode, TV-Max wanted to swing. But, Ruby was afraid that he was swinging too high (still no parents.) So, she decided that TV-Max should play ball instead. This was wise on her part since, as we had established in a previous episode, TV-Max LIKES to play ball.

TV-Max: Swing.

Ruby: No, Max. You swing too high. Why don't you play ball, instead?

TV-Max: SWING!!!

Me: Uh-oh. It's gonna get ugly, in a minute. You better pay attention, Maxie.

Ruby: No swinging, Max. Here, you take this ball and play. I'll be inside.

TV-Max (kicks the ball away): Swing.

Me (laughing): This IS NOT gonna end well.

Real Max: Ahhhhhhhhh......

He was eating dry cat food, out of the cat dish.

It's funny. Just the other day I was thinking that his coat was looking EXTRA shiny.

So, I had to dig all the cat food out of his mouth, wipe off his hands, and put up the OTHER gate that keeps him from getting into the kitchen where we keep the cat food.

When I got back, TV-Max was happily swinging, and the ending music was starting to play.

I'm glad these things are Tivoed, so that I can watch them, later.

I also didn't get to see how TV-Max was able to get the wheel on his truck fixed. This was because Real-Max was ripping up my wife's favorite magazine, and eating it (I'm sure I'll get kicked for that, later.)

I didn't get to see whether or not TV-Max was able to figure out a way to open his birthday presents early, because Real-Max had pulled the phone out of the wall, and was attempting to smash it into submission.

And, I did not get to see whether or not TV-Max was able to plant HIS garden, the way HE wanted to, without the help of that bossy, dominating witch, Ruby, telling him how SHE thought he should do it. This bothered me. It was, after all HIS garden. What business was it of hers?

I'm glad I NEVER had a big sister.

On top of that, I was exhausted.

At around 7am, my wife came downstairs and saw cat food all over, the laundry room door shut, and her magazine, in shreds, on the floor.

My Wife: WHAT have you been doing all morning!?!!

Me (annoyed): Well, I haven't been having sex with Carrie Underwood, that's for damn sure!!

With that, I stumbled back upstairs, and went back to bed.

If Carrie swings by, in an "Emily Babydoll" (I'd prefer black. But, lavender would be good, too), I'm going to let her stay.

At the very least, I bet she wouldn't kick me. But, if she did, I bet I would kinda like it.

Casey