I have a new addiction

In case you’ve noticed, and obviously, you haven’t, I haven’t been writing much here lately.  My web browser can’t seem to stray from a website that I blame my brother for introducing me to its swirling vortex of time waste.

Is there some sort of 12-step program for this?!

But to paraphrase John Lennon, wasted time isn’t wasted if you don’t mind wasting it.  Or something like that.

Anyway… I had no intention of ever getting “into” Facebook.  I had looked at a small handful of MySpace pages in the past and quickly realized I was far, FAR too old (and far, FAR too un-hip) to even look at MySpace, let alone to “get it” or to attempt to make myself a page.  MySpace seems to be mainly inhabited by horny 14-year-olds worshipping the Jonas Brothers, 50 Cent, the current American Idol contestant that is soooooo dreaaaaamy, and whomever else the current flavors du jour are.  Plus, I’m not nearly “gangsta” enough (read that as “wanna-be gangsta enough”) to fit in.  And people I’ve talked to about either MySpace or the Facebooks seemed to make them sound pretty interchangeable, so I never even bothered with it.

And then about a month or so ago, my brother sends me a “friend request” to his Facebook page.  Not wanting to appear the party pooper (read that as “old fart”) that I am, I reluctantly accepted the invitation and joined up.  I got myself a Facebook page, entered what demographics I chose to reveal, let the world know what my favorite movies, books, and TV shows are, and turned myself loose.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

Since then I spend relatively ungodly amounts of time on the Facebooks, doing completely silly things like hunting for Easter eggs, building a city one citizen a day, doing stoplight muggings and what not in mob war simulations, collecting virtual buttons (the Facebooks calls them “Pieces of Flair”, a la Office Space), planting a virtual garden that supposedly somehow magically “helps the environment just by using the application”, and passing out imaginary alcoholic drinks, hugs, puppies, candy, and what not to everyone on my Friends list, among many other ridiculous but completely addicting tasks.

Soeaking of the friends list, I currently have about 110-115 friends on my list.  Of those, I’ve actually met about 25.  Maybe 30.  MAYBE.  The rest of them are suppliers (and use me as their suppliers) of said eggs, plants, virtual drinks, etc.  I actually have managed to get back in touch with a few high school classmates (with whom I haven’t spoken or even seen since then), I’ve gotten in touch with other people I haven’t had contact with in many moons, I have several Springfield Bloggers as friends, I have 5 or 6 family members as friends, but most everyone else on my list are complete and total strangers from literally all over God’s green earth (from Indianapolis and St. Louis to Sweden and Trinidad and Tobago) whom I’ve never met and likely never will.  The only bond we share is the jonesing for collecting and trading items in these stupid games that are absolutely pointless but from which it is virtually impossible to step away, at least for me.  It’s got to be as close to being a crackhead as I can possibly imagine being without actually doing crack.  I need it, man, just one more egg, that’s it, then I swear I’m done.  Just one more, man, hook me up!  PLEASE!!

Worst part about it is that a couple days ago, Mrs. Johann signed up for a Facebook page.  Don’t get me wrong:  I’m very happy she is on the Facebooks now, as we very proudly announce to the Facebook universe that we are married- and to each other, no less- but now I have to share egg-hunting and garden-tending time.

Um, Honey, don’t you have to go work at another store in, like, Carbondale or Rockford or something?!

I might need a Facebook intervention soon.  Thanks a lot, bro.