Our current culture is driven by drama. Some of it real, most of it imagined. Seems like these days everything has to be packaged into little sound bites in order to get our attention. With all the digital technology out there– and because we now have the attention spans of a gnat– we have to be crafty with what we throw out there. We need a hook. Things have to be almost like a cliffhanger if we are to get anyone to notice us and our humdrum existence.
For example, once on Facebook, a friend of mine posted in her status update: At ER!!! That was it. Nothing about who was at the ER, why they were at the ER, if anyone was dying or not. Just ‘at ER’. After a flood of concerned comments she posted again: False alarm, just a migraine!
For fun, I once posted on my facebook status a single word as a little experiment to see how people would respond. I typed: Oregano. And then I sat back and waited. The comments flooded in and it turned out to be the most comment-generating status I have ever seen on my facebook page. That may say a lot about our social lives or just that oregano is a riveting conversation starter.
We all seem to want this attention, even if it’s brief. Even if it’s not a genuine crisis. My own 78 year old mother does it now.
I’ll come home and see a message on my machine (I know, I am the last person on the planet to still have a landline and an answering machine) I’ll hit play and her frantic voice fills the room, “Darla! Darla! Are you there? I know you’re there! Darla! I need you! Darla? Daaaaarlaaaa? I need–” then she’ll abruptly hang up. Naturally, my heart starts to race and I call her back, thinking the worst. “Mom? Are you okay? Is it your heart again? Do I need to call 911? Did you fall down? Did aliens come to abduct you? Did you eat an entire pan of brownies but there’s no milk? What is it?!” and they’ll be a long pause and then she’ll laugh and say, “Huh? Oh, no, dear. Goodness, nothing like that! I just wanted to tell you that on Dr. Oz he’s doing an entire show on pee and poop! Can you believe that? Poop!”
Why, yes, mom. I can believe that.
Cute Kiddo Quote of the Week: My nine year old son fell down and got a big scratch on his foot. He could have received the Academy Award for Best Actor for Dying a Slow and Painful Death. After he stopped crying, I tucked him in on the couch, brought him some apple juice and a cookie, turned the TV on Phinneus and Ferb and leaned in to hug him (he squirmed away) Then I asked him, “Do you need anything else before I go?” Without missing a beat he grinned and said, “A twenty?” So after I brought him $20, I told him he could have it as long as he let me give him one hug. Who says money can’t buy love?
Shameless Begging for Votes I am in The Good Greatsby’s caption contest again.
Mr. Skittles and I would appreciate it if you’d take a second out of your busy day and throw us a vote. If you want. No pressure. Oh, and he wanted to tell you all something before I go…
After Maineiac lost her last caption contest in a crushing defeat to Peg-o-leg, I ran away. I was quickly captured and forced to live behind these giant yellow bars that I probably could squeeze through enough to escape my captors and taste my glorious freedom, but since I’ve lost the will to live, I didn’t.
I spent many long, cold and lonely days praying for Maineiac to have another shot at caption glory, my only sustenance a few rancid Circus Peanuts that had turned green from decay.
It’s been a brutal winter while waiting for my beloved owner to spring me from this hell. Time has not been kind: my fur now a ghastly white, my tired bones ravaged by arthritis, my face forever frozen into a mask of unrelenting hope; hope that you will vote for Darla’s caption here. Or vote for The Life of Jamie, Ape No.1, HoaiPhai, or Perry Block. I will forgive you because theirs are funny as well.
So to sum up:
Mr. Skittles thanks you. Me good monkey. Me love you forever. Methinks Circus Peanuts taste like poop. If you don’t vote, then please send me some real food instead, preferably Hostess Twinkies. Ooh ooh ah ah!