I am not as witty as my Facebook updates might suggest to some people.
Sure my update after serving as a reader at the Easter Vigil that said
"Jonathan killed as Genesis at the Easter Vigil. I mean killed!" had it share of witty appeal, but by and large I'm not a wit factory. Just stop your accolades of wit right now, people! I will have to comment on your praise in some way that will undoubtedly come out sounding even wittier than some other bon mot I have just tossed off. This wit yoke around my neck is heavy, so very, very heavy.
I like to claim that I was forced into being on Facebook by people I work with who claimed it would be good for networking, connectedness, blah, blah, blah. But really I just like spying on my friends, and trying to put up better updates than they do so that I might be perceived as a witmeister. I mean even the term "witmeister" is just plain witty.
It was through Facebook that I learned my friend Kevin was flying to Flint, MI (Who the fucks flies to Flint, MI, right?). I reconnected with my friend Laurie from high school who posted a photo of she and I as cheerleaders (I know, I know. Cheerleading is one of those dark secrets of my past.). It was also through Facebook that I discovered that my friend Anthea had not been abducted, but was displaced and roaming because she started working for the the Obama campaign.
God love Facebook for allowing me to know what my pals are doing at every given moment of their day. But I don't know if I can keep up with witty updates like
"Jonathan doesn't know how he got so far behind when he's nothing but an unemployed housewife."
Witty, right?
No?
Oh.
Well.
Uh.
I have nothing to say to that.
See, witless. That's me. Take that Facebook. (Oh, shit, that was kind of a witty way to prove I'm not witty, wasn't it? Even my witty use of hard returns for your reading pleasure. It's a blessing and curses, friends. A blessing and a curse.)
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