500 Words, Day 19 -- Dumbshows and Noise

Facebook is the closest I will ever come to scrapbooking

Is there a way to download four years’ worth of FB posts?  I don’t care about the photos I found and the links I shared.  Status updates though --- some of them are hilarious if I do say so myself.  And some of them are painful, pithy, and poignant, not to mention cheesily alliterative.*

(Spellcheck let me have “cheesily” which was generous I must say  Curiously, it did not let me have “spellcheck.”   Built-in irony ftw).

For a while I was keeping tabs on those posts by copying them to a notepad on my desktop with the date.   But then my hard drive crashed and I didn’t save them elsewhere and so now they’re gone.  I keep saying I’m going to go through them from the beginning (July 27, 2011 -- save the date for the 4th birthday jam) and copy and paste.   But Facebook is an asshole (surprise) and doesn’t always show you everything from the past.  You have to keep telling it “show all posts” because the default is “highlights” and even then it’s pretty hit and miss.  (Hey, is it “hit  OR miss” or “hit AND miss?” Hang on, let me google it.  Huh.  Turns out either is correct.  Fantastic.  I need that kind of uncertainty in my life.)

One reason I want to be able to pull up some oldies but goodies is that I can use them for prompts when I’m out of ideas.  After all, that’s why I post them in the first place, so I won’t forget.  

Random hilarity around my house lately --
“Don’t let him hit ya where the good lord split ya.”  -- First time the Gamer had ever heard that expression and now he is rolling on the floor in non-ironic convulsive laughter.

Random hilarity from Summer 2011 --

“My kids drive me to drink.  The good news is they always come back to pick me up at closing time.”

Random mildly amusing observation from Fall 2012 --
“Filling up a shopping cart at Trader Joe's to take up to college when you visit your daughter: 75 dollars.

Laughing at yourself because your daughter lives closer to a Trader Joe's than you do: Priceless.”

Oh hey btw there was a bitter and angry (and heartbroken) paragraph up there also, but I put it down here in a footnote so it wouldn’t interrupt the bright and breezy flow of this fluffy post.    

You’re welcome.

*Some of the posts help mark the events of the past four years, when the chronology gets a little vague, like, when did Troubled and Juvie try make money selling poppy seed tea that they made in water bottles in the cul-de-sac?  When did Mr. K. said it was romantic that they were running an extension cord out to the truck so they could watch movies on the laptop when they spent the night in the truck in the driveway after I banished them from the house?  When did Mr. K. write me that deluded drunken denial-filled email describing a conversation he and Troubled had where they came to the conclusion that I had done a shitty job of mothering and wife-ing? I do try to let shit like this go because I'm never going to be happy reliving it all the damn time, but when I do, when I beat it back for a little while, Guilt and Blame and Shame come to call and those assholes will NOT take the hint.  Then the next thing you know, there's that shiny imaginary revolver to suck on or the phantom Volvo station wagon to drive off a cliff. So, no, not letting it go. Anger is keeping me alive. Next.