Hide-and-Seek in the Facebook Universe

Now Facebook allows you to hide what you write, hide when you’re online—soon they’ll have an app for how to hide your existence in toto. Let’s take this to its logical conclusion, shall we?

 

As we enter the Facebook Universe (“F. U.,” for short), Scott has a discussion going on his wall regarding a political matter he doesn’t know much about, really, but it is Friday afternoon and he’s bored at work. 

Scott has a lot of friends (most of whom he would not recognize on the street; they are mainly friends⁷ (friends of friends of friends of friends of friends of friends of friends).

But Scott has a few “friend-friends” (actual friends, as opposed to extended friends, one of the ever-increasing categories F. U. provides; enterprising types are preparing business cards, as we speak, to organize the complex F. U. for you). Among these friends are:

a. Debbie, who has been hiding from Joe because they dated for a while and
then, well--

b. Bob, who has been hiding from Debbie because he wanted to date her while she was dating Joe and assumed once things went south with Joe she would notice him and, well--

We now join the discussion in progress.

Debbie says a few words, which everyone but Joe can see.

Scott responds to Debbie, but calls her “Honey” instead of using her name.
 

Joe chimes in and, not knowing Debbie is present, makes a remark in response to something Scott said that references her in a negative way.

Theme music from “The Twilight Zone” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Twilight_Zone begins to play.

Bob sees what Debbie wrote to Scott and takes the opportunity to add his two cents about Debbie. His remarks are invisible to her.

Debbie says some things in response to the partial conversation she can see.

Bob comes back with another zinger.

Scott tries to find a way to respond to the exchange.

Both Debbie and Bob are offended.

The remaining people who have tuned in grab a beer and wait to see what happens next. Or they decide maybe they’ve had too many beers and that’s why this all looks so bizarre.

Scott walks into the kitchen and says to his wife, “People on Facebook are nuts.” She says, “Shhh. I’m watching Harvey.” http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0042546/

Folks, don’t let this happen to you. No matter how easy Facebook seems to
make it.

©2012 Laynie Tzena.

Exit Strategy, or How to (Almost) See Into The Minds of Men

(Nota bene: This story was actually written on Valentine's Day, but mistakenly posted to one of our sister blogs. Must have been the chocolate.)

I once went to a guest est* seminar. I was waiting tables in Boston at the time. Management had decreed that we wear white shirts (my first one was soon stolen--wet!--from the John Lennon laundromat), black pants, and a black bowtie. My hair has always been thick and at that length, with that getup, I looked like a panda.

est was beginning to buy up real estate—it's a pity Scientology got to the old Transamerica building first, or I'd probably see a lot more of one of my friends—and they owned a building around the corner from the restaurant. So the "est-ies," as we called them, came in all the time, and I can report with authority that they were terrible tippers. Anyway, they invited me to their guest seminar and I went. Interesting. I was ready to leave and they wanted me to sign up for the full Monty and I said I thought I had something else I might want to do with that X-hundred dollars.

They asked me if I could come up with the money if my life depended on it.

Now, this was right around the time of Jim Jones. I immediately saw Jonestown in the back of my mind.

They said that my capacity to fully experience life depended on it.

So I decided I would have to forgo fully experiencing life. It’s been a pretty good ride, though, so far.

* * *

A friend, trying to be helpful, just sent me a link to a video that promised to reveal why men lie. Now, I also have another friend and, when I mentioned a self-help title to him one day, he told me that he just reads the titles and then he has a pretty good idea what’s in the book.

I should have taken his approach. Or even reread the article I posted yesterday about relationship experts. Did I do either of those things? Mais non. Hey, we’re talking about men here. I love men. Plus, it’s Valentine’s Day.

The expert promised to reveal what men think, feel, and want. God forbid you should ask one. No, no. That would never work, because he would lie to you.

The expert went on to say that every man you had ever met had lied to you. (This presumably would include my brother, and therefore is not news.)

So the men in your life—including your current sweetheart—are all lying, at all times. Except when taking this survey. (Where the truth serum was administered was not specified.)

Which is why I routinely tell my friends, “I make the mistakes so you don’t have to.”

Now, unlike the restaurant in Boston, the relationship expert’s video had no exit. Well, there is that little window with the X in it, but he promised relationship “superpowers” (there was even a cape, which really got my attention) and maybe he’s about to reveal an important secret, and . . .

 

But when he said, “The only reason you might not sign up”—right, the whole thing was a sales pitch—“is because you secretly don’t want to know, you like it when men--“ (followed by some drivel), the vernacular sprang to my lips and I closed the window.

“Wait!” he said, and offered an invitation I ignored.

So I’ll never know what all those men really think, feel, and want—or what they chose to tell him they think, feel, and want.

Guess I’ll have to keep dating.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

*erhard seminar training (always written in lower-case letters, perhaps inspired by
e. e. cummings), now called "Landmark Education."

©2012, 2013, 2014 Laynie Tzena.

Chocolate is Good--Very, Very Good--But Sometimes You Need a Little Help

Poor Ruth Wakefield.

Now, I don’t remember ever turning down chocolate. But if I had invented the chocolate chip cookie, accidentally or otherwise (the baker’s chocolate Ruth always used in her cookies had run out, she had a chocolate bar around, which she broke into, as the late, great Gilda Radner might have said, “little teeny-tiny pieces,” they didn’t melt all the way but made—you guessed it—“chips”), here’s hoping I would have remembered why God invented consultants, lawyers, and other forms of aid and comfort.

Let’s go back in time to 1930 and listen in on a little conversation taking place at or near the Toll House Inn, which Ruth has recently bought.

“Oy! I am kvelling!” says Ruth, looking at her cookies and perhaps tasting several, in the interest of science.

Hi. It’s New England. Think “Yankee.”

 

“Not bad,” said Ruth Wakefield to a friend, as she cast an approving glance at her freshly-baked cookies.

“Ruth, that is just grand,” said the friend, whose name happened to be Andrew Nestle, and who had given her that particular chocolate bar, made by his very own company. “And you know what we’re going to do for you, Ruth? We’ll take that recipe and put it on our label. We’ll call them ‘Toll House Cookies.’ And guess what, Ruth? We’re going to give you a lifetime supply of chocolate!”

You say that makes you think of a transaction involving a bit of real estate known as “Manhattan”?

No, honey, that involved something called “wampum.” This here was chocolate. Remember, when we first met Ruth, she was running out of chocolate. Problem solved.¹ Let’s make cookies.

Cinnamon-Chocolate Chip Refrigerator Cookies (from the Williams-Sonoma Kitchen Library’s Cookies & Biscotti, Chuck Williams, Editor; Recipes, Kristine Kidd; makes about 4 dozen—well, 3½ dozen, once you deduct the samples)

¾ cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
½ cup granulated sugar
1½ teaspoons grated orange zest
1¼ teaspoons ground cinnamon (the fresher, the better. Grind your own, if you can. I also like Trader Joe's cinnamon.).
¼ teaspoon salt
2 egg yolks
1¾ cups all-purpose flour
1 cup miniature semisweet chocolate chips (Guittard chips are heavenly; if you can’t get the miniature ones, just chop the regular-sized ones into smaller pieces)
Cinnamon sugar (½ cup granulated sugar, combined with 1½ teaspoons ground cinnamon).

Combine the butter, granulated sugar, orange zest, cinnamon, and salt in a large bowl. Using an electric mixer set on high speed, beat until light and fluffy. Add the egg yolks and beat until light and fluffy. Reduce the speed to low, add the flour and chocolate chips and mix just until incorporated.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface. Divide in half. Roll each piece between your palms and the work surface to form a log 1½ inches in diameter. Wrap the logs tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate until firm, about 1 hour or as long as overnight.

Preheat an oven to 350° F. Lightly butter baking sheets. Unwrap the dough and cut each log into rounds ¼ inch thick—unless you are Diane Davis, in which case you will be rolling out the dough as one long ¼ inch thick sheet, and then cutting out little snowflakes and saving a half-dozen for “Love at First Bite.” (Hey, we don’t get a commission. We might settle for a lifetime supply of chocolate, though. [Valrhona 71%, thanks.]).

Where were we? Oh, right, we were about to transfer the dough to the prepared baking sheets, and space them 1½ inches apart. Consider it done.

Now bake them until the edges are brown, about 15 minutes. Transfer the cookies to wire racks and let cool for 5 minutes.

Put the cinnamon sugar in a bowl. Add several warm cookies and toss to coat with the sugar. Return the cookies to the racks to cool completely. Repeat with the remaining cookies. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 5 days.

They should only last that long.

¹Maybe the problem really was solved. In 1936 Ruth came out with a cookbook that took off four years later, and ultimately went through 39 printings. And she probably did a whole lot of baking at the Toll House Inn. Wikipedia makes it sound as though trading the recipe for chocolate was Ruth’s idea. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruth_Graves_Wakefield (Of course, we don’t know who wrote that entry.) Perhaps it was. Now, some might ask, “How many people have heard of ‘Toll House Cookies’? And how many have heard of Ruth Wakefield?”  

So did Ruth make a good deal, in the end? Discuss. Over cookies, of course.

©2011, 2013, 2014, 2015 Laynie Tzena.