What I’m Pinterested In

I don’t know what to call Pinterest.  Social media, maybe? An on-line scrapbook? Still not sure but it’s clever and catchy and I’m all for clever and catchy.  Really, I am.  Pinterest isn’t my cup o’ Joe but more power to those who love it.  Personally? I don’t think anyone would be Pinterested in knowing that chintz makes me want to vomit and my inspirational phrase of choice is Stop Texting At The Fucking Table rather than Start Every Day Like It’s Your Birthday.

But there’s this thing I have.  I’ll call it an affliction.  It’s beyond my control. Like what John Malkovich said to Glenn Close in Dangerous Liaisons when he double-crossed her and smashed her diabolical heart to smithereens.

In a nutshell, I am inexplicably driven to mock things that I don’t understand.  I vacillate between thinking it’s jealousy and thinking it’s simply chronic cynicism.

Let’s start with the jealousy angle. Yes, I admit I feel left in the dust when it comes to social media sites and everything related.  This proliferation of words and links and sites and apps and whatevers renders me helpless and paralyzed. There are so many things to learn, I don’t know where to begin. My peers are all so good at it.   I wish I could be more savvy and smart and clever but the learning curve just feels too….insurmountable to me.

And so I mock.

How can I not? When I go and search around on Pinterest, this is what I see…..

Cupcakes that look like Pandas.  [I can’t even make eggs that look like eggs for fuck sake!]

How to make hors d’oeuvres that look like Band-Aids  [Maybe I should post a picture of my party pleasin’ cocktail wieners that look like tampons. I’m tellin’ you, they’re a hit at every social gathering!]

A little kid dressed like Edward Scissorhands [Yes, it’s super cute but…man, it’s just a little creepy]

How to pickle asparagus [see egg comment above]

Picture of a sleeping baby wearing a crocheted hat with bunny ears inside a giant glass container filled with M & Ms [Jesus H. Christ on a raft! Who puts their baby in a jar of candy and takes its picture?]

Pictures of super cute animals [I admit, a baby hippo does make me smile but the fact that a human is holding it gives me pause]

The Paleo Diet  [I had no idea that cavemen ate such beautifully prepared dishes. And I thought wooly mammoth couldn’t look appetizing. Silly me!]

And there are lots and lots of cute, inspiring sayings some of which I can relate to…like the ones that have alcohol as a central theme because alcohol makes everything better. The ones I find amusing, however, are these:

It Is What It Is  [This, of course, is self-explanatory, right? Like We Are What We Are and A Prius Is A Prius]

Keep Calm And Zumba [This feels contradictory to me…like Shut Up And Yell]

Okay….I probably sound like an asshole which is to say I Am What I Am but I do try to find humorous ways to fill my giant void of inadequacy…it’s just at the expense of others, I’m afraid.

The conclusion?

I think I’m just cynically jealous.







Today, like every other day of my life, I stumbled to the kitchen for a cup o’ Joe so I could regain my eyesite, snatched up my laptop and climbed back in bed.  It’s still early, mind you, lest I give the impression I spend my entire day in bed.

Coffee and computer. My two most cherished “C” words.

E-mail came first.  Not much to report except that you can still buy Viagra for super, super cheap from that Canadian on-line pharmacy…and oh, yeah,… those hideous Jimmy Choos are now down to $27.50  from some discounter who refuses to stop stalking me. Nevermind that they really ARE hideous and they’re a size 18.

Off to check in with my Writer’s Workshop to see what’s cookin’ in the minds of my fellow scribes.

Open Safari….

Up pops Google which is my browser.  (Is that the right term? I think so.)

The article that caught my eye on the news feed thingy (probably NOT the right term) was:

“Google Knows Too Much About You.”

Of course I clicked on it because I’ve been seeing all those touchy-feeling messages from Google about how their new privacy policy is “beautiful” and “simplistic” and aren’t you all going to accept these lovely words….smoking us like a swarm of angry bees…eyelids growing heavy as we drift off to the land of…..

“Holy shit”, I say as I shake the images of candy cane trees and rivers of honey out of my noggin.

Yeah. They know everything about you.  Every fucking thing.

And God love ’em.  They reminded me that I’m overdue for my bi-yearly dental check-up and since I’m now 50?  I really need to schedule that colonoscopy and just to be really, really safe even though I do resistance training on a regular basis with kettle bells and pilates, probably a bone density test as well.

Gosh!  Thanks for putting in the time to know me so well, Google!  I feel really, really special now. It only cost me every ounce of privacy I have left in this double-edged-cyber-freak-show we live in.

….as she signs off of her blog, powered by the Internet, searchable on Google, the information she used to get here lovingly stored and preserved for future use in selling her a product or service of some sort.

She says to herself “What a clever blog! I feel like a hypocrit but whatever. It’s all harmless fun.”

She doesn’t believe her own words. Doubt clouds her face like she’s searching for a vague just-out-of-reach memory.

And realization hits her. Her face falls. Her fingers fly up to her Google search history.

Ruh roh.