I’ve watched my daughters spend/waste countless hours Facebooking. I’ve never really understood the social networking side of the internet, but its appeal is obvious. I actually registered on Facebook some months ago, so I could view Mitt Romney’s site and do a post on it. I had no idea, at the time, that this meant that somewhere in the vast wilderness of Facebook, I had a page.
Tonight I got an email from the Facebook “team” that said:
Roger [Simon] added you as a friend on Facebook. We need you to confirm that you are, in fact, friends with Roger.
To confirm this friend request, follow the link below:
The Facebook Team
Such a demure, third-party request! It’s almost 19th century. I quickly assured the “Facebook Team,” i.e., some anonymous software somewhere, that Roger and I are indeed friends.
This led me to check out Roger’s Facebook page–hey, Roger, where’s the photo?–and it caused my ten year old daughter to track down my own embryonic page, which, as I said, I didn’t know existed. We spruced it up a bit.
The last thing I need, of course, is another web site to worry about, so I doubt that my Facebook page will get much attention. Still, it’s not every day that you get an email that allows you to officially add a friend to your list. I’m beginning to understand why my kids like Facebook so much.
UPDATE: This post was up for less than two minutes, I swear, before I got an email saying that Arthur Chrenkoff, who I believe lives in Australia, has added me as a friend. There may really be something to this Facebook thing.