This afternoon I was cruising through Facebook, as is my occasional wont, intent on spying out details of lives of half-remembered acquaintances of early childhood and realising again that I may as well give up on half because women still keep changing their surnames.
What is with that? I STILL can't grasp why anyone would willingly giving up their name. Unless they're entering a witness protection program, of course. But then I feel PROBABLE DEATH is a pretty good reason for a number of life adjustments.
However, I have joined a number of Facebook groups based entirely on their titles. Hence I am a member of:
▪ If you can't fix it with Gaffa tape, you haven't used enough.
▪ I FLIP MY PILLOW OVER TO GET TO THE COLD SIDE
▪ People Who Always Have To Spell Their Names For Other People
▪ Derek Zoolander's Group For Really Really Ridiculously Good Looking People
I feel the last one really connects with WHO I am. You know, on the inside.
I have cut myself out of eligibility for the Philosphy group "I Dont care How Comfortable Crocs Are, You Look Like A Dumbass", by purchasing a pair last week; nor do I really qualify for the "I only watch Eurovision for Terry Wogan" seeing as I don't get the British showing of it and I ACTUALLY only watch it for the Ukraine.
What can I say? Hope springs eternal for the return of Ruslana.
But this afternoon I found, I think, the most community service-orientated group yet, admittedly perhaps only relevant for those from my hometown...
"It shits me when people don't realise the ADDED LANE entering Torquay Road!"