Dating Magazine

Social Media From An Old Lady’s Point Of View

By Aussalorens

I’m still in NYC but I leave you in the capable hands of Michelle at Rubber Shoes in Hell.  She was one of the first blogs I ever followed– Her snarky take on life drew me in and satisfied the part of my soul that is always looking for something absurd to laugh at.  Then I found her on Twitter—if that sounds like some sort of spiritual experience, then I’m telling it accurately. 

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First of all, I’m not really an old lady. I am kind of an old lady. A little bit of an old lady. I am definitely not young. But I look amazing, so I’m going to continue to enjoy that for the few years I have left before gravity wins this tug of war we’ve been fighting.

When Aussa asked me to write a guest post, I mildly freaked out. What would I write about? Would it be good enough? Does she know I mostly suck at this? Poor Aussa. I’m totally ruining her blog and it’s such a good blog.

I know. Write about that time your boss said you were not allowed to say fuck anymore.

I decided to write about social media, because, you know…no one else has.

I was late to the party on Facebook and Twitter and way late on Pinterest. I never had a MySpace account and only had the vaguest understanding what it was about.

I have Instagram and Tumblr accounts, but I have to be honest, I have no idea what they are. I know Instagram is pictures and there is a lot of food involved. I think Tumblr might just be pictures as well, but I am not sure. I normally don’t feel compelled to take pictures of food. I feel compelled to eat food, but I don’t feel the need to preserve it’s memory. In the spirit of being a good sport, please enjoy this picture of the two consumable items sitting on my kitchen table as I write this post.


Oh and forget Google +. I’m not learning it. There are circles. Normally, I am a fan of circles, or at the very least, not anti-circle, but I don’t like the Google + circles.

Seriously, just tell the ‘time you weren’t allowed to say fuck’ story. It’s funny.

Facebook has it’s merits. I get to see pictures of my grandkids. Sometimes people post some funny shit. It’s also  my number one source of watching videos that can make me cry in a minute or less.

Honestly, though, at least half the shit on facebook is annoying. The vague status updates, the self righteous rants and the cries for attention. Although, they aren’t the worst types of posts on Facebook. The worst is a tie between these two things: The constant updates where a person talks about nothing except how perfect every aspect of their life is and those emotionally manipulative posts where if you don’t repost it, it means you hate Jesus and bunnies and babies and you probably boil puppies. You definitely hate America.

There have been times that I’ve seen a pithy saying that resonated with me and I almost reposted it, but then I see the ‘repost this or blah blah blah’ at the bottom and think fuck you, don’t tell me what to do.

Any of my Facebook friends who read this blog post: I am not talking about you. It’s my other Facebook friends.

The ‘not being allowed to say fuck’ story is way better than this.

I don’t have a Snapchat or Vine account. I don’t really know what snapchat is. I think its pictures that you can text and then they disappear after a short period of time. This makes me think of Mission Impossible even though I am relatively sure they are nothing alike. I’ve seen some Vine posts on Facebook and have actually laughed at some, which is impressive with the 7 second restriction and all. Even so, I have no interest in creating 7 second videos. I have attention span problems and all, but not that bad. I can usually stand to be entertained by something for longer than 7 seconds.

This is the part where my 16 year old son would say ‘That’s what she said’. Which reminds me of a story from a few years ago. The boy, his dad and I were in the car and someone said something that prompted the boy to say ‘That’s what she said’. Hubs looks over at me and says “That’s what who said? Who is she”? That’s when I realized I was married to an old man.

Which brings us to Twitter. I fucking love Twitter. I love it. I love Twitter as much as any other type of entertainment ever. Video games didn’t come about until I was a teenager. Before then, all we had was pinball and we liked it. (You have to read that in Dana Carvey’s old man voice). I never did develop a love for video games. Sure, I played my share of Ms Pacman, but I didn’t spend enough time to get any good at it.

The point is, I’ve viewed the changes and advances in technology as convenient and I’ve appreciated it terribly, but not so much for entertainment. I was a pinball girl.

Then I discovered Twitter.I love how very funny so many people can be in 140 characters. I love that I’ve been hanging around there long enough that there are people that I genuinely look forward to talking with. I love to read celebrity tweets so that you can hear their voice rather than reading shit that gets filtered through their management or through editors.

I love the irreverence and the sarcasm and the raw emotion. I think we all wear a mask. Probably dozens of them. Unless it’s just me, in which case, please ignore that last thought. Twitter is where I get to wear my most transparent mask.

Sure, I’ve had a few run ins with some real douche canoes, but for the most part, people just want to be heard and what they are sharing is fascinating. It’s not filled (at least my timeline) with scores of people who are just waiting around to be offended or who want to preach to me about religion or politics or how I need to practice a healthier lifestyle (which I do).

I can see Twitter being a companion for my remaining years, or whatever Twitter morphs into. Hopefully, it will involve just thinking shit and transmitting it, because my eyes are not getting any younger. I already have a hard time with Twitter on my phone.

It’s funny to think about things people experience throughout their lives. My grandmother was raised in a farmhouse that didn’t have electricity. She lived through the depression. She told me  when she was a kid that the whole family would run outside if they heard a plane. She paused and said “actually, we did the same thing if we heard a car drive by”. Before she died, we had phones in our pockets and all the information we could ever need at our fingertips.

I know the next best thing is around the corner. I’m sure I’ll be fascinated. I remember the first time I saw a fax machine operate. It was like a caveman seeing fire for the first time. I remember when everyone had black and white TVs and if you grew up in the same socioeconomic background as I did, most of those televisions had wire coat hangers as antennas and you needed a pair of pliers to change the channel.

I don’t know that I’m excited to adopt upcoming technology as much as I’m just interested in knowing about it. I think some of the things coming up are going to be for my children and grandchildren more than they will be for me.

Unless it’s teleportation. I will rock the shit out of teleportation.

Also, one time, my boss told me I wasn’t allowed to say ‘fuck’ anymore. It was a rule just for me. The other people in my department (all male) did not have the same restriction. This did not end well for my boss. But that is another story.

rubber shoes in hell

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