Breast Cancer Awareness and Why I hate Facebook….sometimes

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Why Facebook Friends make me wanna press delete repeatedly…

breast cancer awareness

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A friend posted on Facebook recently that she’s pregnant. She’s around 45, I think, with no kids.

You should have seen the bazillions of comments that followed her post.

Everyone was so excited for her! I wasn’t sure if I should be excited or not, honestly, since her info was pretty scant, and since she’s 45 (who tries to get pregnant at nearly a half a century old?), but I commented, “Wow! Congratulations!”

After that, I got a private message from her. It was a cut-and-paste thing, and said I shouldn’t have liked or commented on her post . . . that it was a breast cancer awareness thing . . . that she fell for it, too . . . .
And then I got directions that I should post something on my page. I should pick one statement from the provided list of ten, that ranged from the ridiculous to the uber-ridiculous (“No toilet paper, goodbye socks”—ridiculous.

“Just used my boobs to get out of a speeding ticket,”—uber-ridiculous; have you seen my boobs?)

Then came the wheedling/cajoling whine: “Ahhh, don’t ruin it! Be a good sport! Remember, it’s all for breast cancer awareness!”
Listen up, honey.
A. I know no more about breast cancer now than I did before I congratulated you on your pregnancy, and
B. Falling for your post made me feel like an idiot, and do you really think I would do the same thing and make all my friends feel like idiots, too?
=>Sorry, mi amor.

No can do. Not for God. Or the President. Or for breast cancer awareness.
This falls into the same category as the posts that urge me to like a post so that I will be blessed. Or so that my ten closest friends will be blessed. Or to prove that I love Jesus. Or to free angels to fly over the world and fling perfumed rose petals upon the suffering.
Why do people post stuff like that? Surely that don’t believe it will work! If so, that’s grounds for unfriending right there!
Ok, I’ve gotten heated up. You’re right. I need to ratchet the emotions down a notch. As my son would say, “Sheesh, mom. Calm down. There’s a bottle of chill pills in the cabinet over there. Why don’t you go and take about a hundred?”
As soon as I put down my pen—or my keyboard—I’ll go do that.
Venting is now officially over.
But I’m still not going to post that breast cancer awareness thing.

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