Tag Archives: Huffington Post

Snarky Facebook Friend Island

Last month, Huffington Post published my 10 Tiresome Facebook Friends blog and it ended up being really popular. I was stunned and thrilled all at once. There were 135,000 likes, and 22,300 shares, along with 729 comments.  Before I read any of the comments, I braced myself because I had heard how harsh HuffPo commenters could be from other bloggers. I’m pleased to say on this particular piece MOST comments were awesome. The MAJORITY of people got that I am a HUMOR blogger and not a CNN reporter. They knew that my piece was all in fun and they even played along with me by adding their own Facebook Friend clichés.

Then, there were those people who did not get me at all. They thought I was being serious. For real. Some readers, like six of them or something, thought that I had not figured out how to remove annoying people from my Facebook feed and I was just writing to complain about my horrible friends. One lady (I use that word instead of humorless bitch) told me I was a “bully” and I would regret this when I “came face to face with god.” My eyes nearly rolled right out of my head.

I don’t remember all of the other critical comments, but they mostly just told me to unfriend these people or remove them from my news feed etc. Thanks for the tech support guys! The most memorable negative comment was from this poor woman who lives in a town where Applebee’s is a five star dining experience and Walmart is the mall. No wonder she is angry! She said, and I quote:

“Please don’t take this the wrong way ( well , I really don’t care how u take it , u did open the door) In my opinion , u really don’t need to be on a social network . I mean if these friends of yours bother you so much ( u know the ones YOU friended in the first place) why not ..wait for it … UNFRIEND THEM .. they are not your friends in the first place or you would not be running them down. Right ?? You should be on a desert island ..yep thats right ..that way no one can insult that marvelous opinion you have of your own wonderful self and you can talk to the only intelligent person you know …you ! Ok ..got that off my chest .. you have a nice night now ..ya hear…from ” glad I’m not your friend’”

Yes, that is a direct copy and paste from her little comment box. She was probably super pissed about the “Speak and Spell” friend on my list. Obviously.  For that I owe her an apology, maybe, or not. Actually, I owe her a big thank you because, you know, she is right. I DO need my own island, and not because I hate everyone, but because I am a hermit. So, I started thinking, if I could have my own island, what would it be like.

Well, it would have a lot of cats and kittens, and they would all live inside. So, there would need to be cat houses surrounding my big purple mansion. I don’t mean THOSE kind of cat houses. ; ) Seriously, I hate when people let cats roam outside, so I am damn sure not going to do it. The cats would have air conditioning, plenty of fishy food, and a ton of catnip. I mean, why wouldn’t they? It’s an island.

My island would also need a Super Target. I could get anything I needed there: groceries, clothes, electronics, books, etc.   Since I would be alone on the island, everything would be free. How awesome would that be?

I would need a roof over my island to keep me dry when I’m outside. I hate rain, and islands tend to get a lot of it. I wouldn’t want a dome because Stephen King has given me nightmares, but I would need something like a big, island-sized awning. They probably sell one on Amazon.

I would need a dock and a ferry. I would want people to visit me, even if they were Baconators or Monsanto Warriors. So, they would need a way to get to my island. Once in a while, I may want to visit the mainland, too, you know, if I needed to go to the Apple store or something. It’s not like I would use a PC on the island. A boat of some sort would be a necessity.

I guess there would need to be a power plant or a ton of solar panels. I would need electricity to run the air conditioning and charge my Macbook, iPad, and iPhone.   I would probably want to have a microwave and stove, oh and a refrigerator. Just because I’m living on an island does not mean I want to give up my first world comforts. As my husband tells everyone, my idea of roughing it is staying in a hotel with only basic cable and no room service. It’s true.

Assuming my purple mansion is fully furnished, I can’t really think of anything else I would need on my island. I feel like I’m missing something, but that is probably because I have not had enough coffee today. What about you? Would you want your own island? If so, what would you absolutely need on it? Let me hear from you in the comment section.

You can tell I’m a snob just by looking at my resting bitch face. I’d need a bigger island than that one.

Not THIS Time, Breast Cancer

I have been having mammograms since I was 30, and I am just a LITTLE BIT older than that now. OK, I will be 43 in two weeks. My mom had breast cancer in her 40’s, and a cousin on my mom’s side had it in her 30’s. So, it’s kind of scary and my doctor likes to stay on top of things.

I had my regular annual mammogram last week, and I was waiting for the all-clear email that I usually get, when instead the phone rang. I hate the phone all the time, but especially when it is the mammogram place calling the day after my test. That is never good.

When I got the call back for an additional mammogram and sonogram, the receptionist informed me that the radiologist saw a “mass.”   My stomach immediately cramped.

NOTE TO MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS: Do not use the word MASS when calling about a mammogram unless you are sure that it is something to worry about. Say, “the picture was not clear” or something like that. Mass is a scary word to someone who just had a test to detect CANCER.

Even with the use of the word mass, I was able to calm myself down. I wasn’t REALLY worried until my PRIMARY care doctor’s office called to be sure I was going back. This is not even the doctor who ordered the test. Plus, this doctor is usually very mellow about everything. When I was freaked out about having a DVT and being on blood thinners, this doctor told me to go ahead and shave my legs with a real blade because I wasn’t going to bleed out from nicking myself. (Note: The same cousin who had breast cancer ended up passing away from bleeding internally while on blood thinners.) So, if my super mellow doctor was concerned about me going back for round two of boob torture, I sure as #$# # was worried. I grabbed the first open appointment they had, which was FIVE days away.

That following Monday, as luck would have it, The Huffington Post emailed me to see if I would be available to chime in on annoying social media friends on Huffington Post Live at 2:35 pm ET, or RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF MY MAMMOGRAM APPOINTMENT. Yes, I understand that the children in Iraq are just weeping for my little scheduling problem. “Poor American lady can’t do TV because she is having a modern medical test in a building with a roof.”

Well, since I had already worried about breast cancer all weekend, and since my husband cancelled a business trip to go with me to that appointment, and since I was probably too stressed to be funny, and since I would oh say be topless at that exact time, I said no to the Huffington Post.

For five days, between the call and my appointment, I prepared for the worst.

I envisioned arguing with the surgeon on why I needed to have both breasts removed, as my mother had done when she was diagnosed.

I planned on  finding a new surgeon after imaginary first surgeon said no because he was an ass.

I pictured arguing with my insurance company who would refuse to pay for my double mastectomy and insist I only needed the cancerous one removed, which would make me the uniboober.

I imagined chemo, and vomiting, and laying on the couch while watching an endless stream of Lifetime movies with a cat or three lying on me.

I thought about having to cancel my next hair appointment because I would not have hair. I love my hair appointments.

I thought about vomiting. Again.

I wondered where the damn ice bucket challenges were for this. Maybe I would do a barf bucket challenge. I wondered if that would go viral and finally get me on the Today Show.

I posted about it on Facebook, even though I said I wouldn’t.

I blamed myself. I don’t eat that well. I don’t exercise enough. I drink more than I should sometimes, meaning wine not water. It’s good to drink more water than you should, as long as it’s not TOO MUCH water.

I once again wished that my parents had never mated. Seriously! We have every damn disease there is in this family. Heart disease and diabetes run through my father’s side of the family, along with a touch of anxiety. On my mom’s side, we have colon cancer, breast cancer, Crohn’s disease, and more anxiety. No wonder I’m a nut case!

The day FINALLY arrived. My husband drove me to the mammogram place. The chamomile tea I drank that morning did not keep me from feeling like I was facing death. I changed out of my shirt with sweaty armpits, because you can’t wear deodorant when you have a mammogram and because I had the nervous pit sweats. Deodorant messes up the images somehow. Look it up. I’m not a doctor.

I’m not sure if I pissed someone off at the mammogram place, or if it is just standard procedure to clamp the mammogram machine on someone’s boob like you are trying to kill a spider with it when they have to come back for a second test. For the love of bruised titties that hurt SO MUCH worse the second time. And I still had to have a sonogram after that. Even with that FLAT view, they couldn’t tell what my ”mass” was.

FINALLY, after the sonogram, I was told I had a “cluster of cysts like a bunch of grapes.” My first thought was “Cluster of Cysts” would make a great name for a punk band. My second thought was, “WHY didn’t I postpone the appointment and do the damn Huffington Post Live Show?”

Huffington Post Live, email me!! I’m cancer free and available now.

That's my nervous smile.
That’s my nervous smile.

Update: This post has also been published on The Huffington Post.