santa maria. pinta. niña... titanic.

Usually I'm not thankful for anything. I'm pretty sure everything I receive is either well-deserved, completely warranted, or just figures.

But, it is Thanksgiving. Or near it, sort of. Even I, on the holiest of all holidays centered around over-eating, swallow my pride and bitterness to give thanks to those who've earned it.

To start off, I'd like to express my thankfulness for blankets. They are cozy, and warm, and they smell nice. I love blankets. I wish I could wear one at work... but alas, I work outside the home, and people would think me strange should I show up in the tasting room with a down comforter draped across my shoulders. One of my great regrets...

Thank you, world, for Washington state. I don't have much to compare it to, seeing as though I've lived in it my entire life (oh God, how lame?!), but it's beyond dece. It has lakes, rivers and oceans, cities and small towns, rain forests, regular forests, deserts and mountains, and Pullman. It is spectacular. And it's shaped cool, not like one of those Dakotas or Tennessee. W (clap, clap, clap) A (clap, clap, clap) S (clap) H (clap) I (clap, clap, clap).... ugh, you get the idea. Jebus, you know, that's a lot of claps. Well, I suppose it is the anthem of a college town... Ha.

What else, what else. Ahhh, DVR, how I love you so. Thank you for letting me watch my shows without having to sit through all those dumb ass Roni Deutch ads. When the day comes that I move into Megan's and have to give up the fast forward feature... I'm sure I'll die a little bit inside. Damn. DAMN!

Hmmm... Oh, thank you Mark Zuckerberg, for selling out majorly and making Facebook available to my GRANDMOTHER. Do you know how bad I feel denying my Grandma's friend request? I just let it sit there, along with my mother's and various aunts and uncles, leering at me. They leer. Let us be your friend, Elizabeth, they say. And let my debauched haven become some unfortunate version of familial show and tell? Fat chance! "And here, Grandma, is a photo of my 3rd beer bong of the night."

I'm not the same person to you all as I am to my Grandma. To her I'm somewhat intelligent, sincere, and an all-around decent human being. She calls me, "Lovey Dovey", for Christ's sake. It was bad enough senior year when I was crowned Prom princess (less 'crowned' and more 'lost-but-still-given-a-tiara-and-title-by-default') and had to explain to her why people were yelling "BOOZE!" at me on stage, and what it meant, exactly, when they asked me about a Dairy Queen spoon... Yeah, thank you very much.

Speaking of Facebook, thanks to whomever decided it was okay to say whatever the hell you want on your status updates. It's almost always some crazy girl bitching about the idiots who wade in her cesspool of dating. "So-and-so thinks guyz r the BIGGEST PEICES OF SHIT EVERR. All guys. All of them. Especialy u, Fred. I hate u. U RUINED MY LIFE. N u stole my car! N I kno it was u callin all those hookers n shit... I pay for ur phone! I hate all men. There scum! But not u, Daddy. I luv u." ... Ugh. These typo-riddled rants are usually followed by a slew of commenting supporters, their grammatical prowess paralleled in the original post. If we're really lucky, it's the guy in question answering back. "Bitch u don't know me!" Also, how hard is it to spell out the word 'you'? Really, people.

It's my personal belief that any guy who would date a girl with no observable social awareness deserves to be mistreated in cyberspace. And any girl who's so pathetic as to use Facebook to alleviate the stress of dating such a nutbag deserves him as well. Get a life. Or don't, because I seriously love reading how psychotic you are. ...Hmm. Maybe I'm the one who needs a life. (in the crazy girls' defense, it's been my experience that we don't start out that way... it's you boys who drive us to the edge of our sanity...)

While we're on the subject of people who make me feel better about myself--- a big thanks goes to reality TV and just about everyone in it, because without you all as such sparkling examples of humanity, I'd feel like a real ass most of the time. Thanks for keeping me in check and showing me how truly normal I am.

Thanks 12-year molars, for finally gracing me with your presence. You've been 11 years in the making. Wisdom teeth? I have none. Say what you will.

Thank you, thank you, Steve Jobs, for creating a whole heap of shiny, expensive products that I don't really need, and never really thought I wanted, until I saw you explaining their gloriousness in a keynote.

Thanks Bank of America, for sending me a Cougar debit card. It brightens my day every time I make a purchase. It's especially exciting when I get 20% cash back on Cougar gear, like red solo cups, ping pong balls, and Busch Light.

Ooo, I should also thank Wikipedia, for giving me endless (if not false) information at my fingertips. Though I won't be completely appreciative until I have my own Wikipedia entry, declaring me the smartest, funniest, and perhaps the best person in the world.

I'd like to give a shout out to Christian Louboutin for making such lust-worthy, completely amazing high heels. Oh, and Christian, while I've got you here, I would like to un-thank you for pricing them at $800 a pair. It's a bit steep for someone who majored in English, if you know what I mean...

Also, while I'm un-thanking people, I'd like to un-thank God for making me 5'11". I want to wear Louboutins at my wedding, God, but you've made this nearly impossible. Do you know how hard it is to find an intelligent, rich, gorgeous guy who's 6'5", who happens to be spectacularly witty and interesting and perhaps foreign, who also wants to put up with me for as long as we both shall live? Of course you know how hard it is... you only made one of them. And for some reason, he's not returning my calls (I'm talking to you, Alexander Skarsgard... Marry me.) But, jokes on you, God. My knees are double-jointed, so I'll just stand kind of weird and settle for 6'2". HaHA!

Muchas gracias, tequila, for being AWESOME. I love you. Probably a little too much.

Thank you, texting. Now I barely have to talk to anyone, and it's fabulous. Sans the occasional typo that misconstrues an entire message, you are great. You're concise, timely, and sort of discreet- except today when I literally walked into a Hanukkah display at Target whilst texting Justin a picture of a menorah. That was not discreet. It would've seemed hate crime-ish, had I not immediately stooped to stow the white and blue candles back on their shelf... Sorry, Moses.

I guess I should thank all whom I consider my friend. I seriously have no idea why most of you have stuck around. I think it's that by now, I know too much about you, and at our age it's hard to break in new friends, and even harder to find ones that will be accepting of the annoying qualities we all seem to possess. Love you guys.

And last, but certainly not least, thanks Mom and Dad... I thank you for a lot of things, but mostly for not putting me up for adoption once you realized how strange I actually am :)

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!

Tequila shots Wednesday night? I'll text you.

anything anonymous

Hi, my name is Liz, and I'm an addict.

A Facebook addict, that is. And a gossip site addict. And an addict to just about anything that's counterproductive to life... aka 98% of the world wide web's offerings. I'm addicted to the internet.

12 hours ago, (yes, I've calculated it down to the hour...) I deleted my Facebook account. I can almost hear the gasps, the oh-the-horror's, and the WHAT?'s emitting across the Columbia Basin.

And all I can say is, I know.

I'm shaking like a crack fiend. Facebook has been an integral part of my 'social networking' for years. Hell, without Facebook, I'd probably have zero real-life friends, as I am less than reliable when it comes to answering my phone/returning calls... Facebook is the only reason I have sporadic activities and rendezvous' penciled in on my calendar, without it I'm just some loser that doesn't know what the hell's going on... especially with things concerning my friends.

I think I first noticed that I had a problem when I began thinking in Facebook status form. "Elizabeth Moss is practically DYING without fb :("

One of the most amusing parts of this whole Facebook thing, is that I've convinced myself that any of you care. You know, about my status updates. Or the fact that I posted pictures. Or what my favorite movies are, or my religious/political affiliation. Who am I, the Queen? Who gives a shit what I'm doing. No one, that's who.

But Facebook allows me to be the self-important jackass that I'm generally only comfortable being in front of my close friends... and since they account for only 5% of my friend list.... that would mean there are a lot of acquaintances that probably groan with every update, "Ugh, God, not her again."

What did we do before the days of social networking sites? Did we actually call people to chat? Just the thought of it makes me cringe. How did we get invited to parties? Paper invitations? How 1999. And don't even get me started on dating... how did we know whether or not someone's courtship was legitimate before they vowed their 'In A Relationship With...' status via minifeed announcement? Random sightings at the mall? Palpable affection? Ridiculous.

And, most importantly, how did one stalk their crushes, rivals and/or drunken acquaintances? Tailing them? Peering through a set of binoculars into their living room windows? How barbaric... and mildly thrilling.

Until Facebook came along, what did we do with all the time that we waste, er, I mean spend, on the computer? Frolic in the outdoors with three dimensional people? What an amusing thought.

Now, I realize that most of you don't have the same vices as I. You don't find yourself mindlessly navigating to Facebook during all hours of the night. You don't find yourself halfway through that one guy who sat behind you in English 351's wall-to-wall with his long lost best friend from preschool before realizing, "Shit, I'm supposed to be at work..."

But I do. I have a problem. And that is why I deactivated.

And none of you are going to see this. Because I have no way to tell you about it.

Hmm.

Didn't think this through, did I?

Dumbass.

technology is failing me.

I am getting old. At the used-to-be-tender age of 21, I have decided to throw in the towel and let the rest of the world pass me by.

I'm trying to embrace the fact that I'll just be one of those crotchety old people who doesn't know an iPhone from a Fuji, or Gala. Or, more appropriately, a Granny Smith. When is the age that we stop keeping up with the Jones', and instead spend the bulk of our time trying to understand why the damn commercials are so loud?

A while back, a group of friends (more like classmates and other people I don't like, minus Kaylee, who sometimes I do like) were talking about Flo Rida. Not hearing the emphatic space between flo and rida (loss of hearing is also a sign of old age...) I misunderstood their entire conversation. Butting in, I said,

"Yeah, well, I've been there once. Orlando though, I only went to Disney World."

Kaylee looked at me with confusion, and then what I can only assume was pity.

"We're talking about Flo Rida. The rapper? You know, 'then shorty got low, low, low...' Not the state of Florida."

Was this just the first of many egregious errors I am to make as a person who is no longer as technically, or pop culturally savvy as I once was? Oh, the horror.

I was watching The View the other day, and was accosted by a segment about teens and Facebook. And texting. And MySpace. And whatever the hell else that's out there corrupting the young minds of today. They were throwing out acronyms like, PIR (parent in room), MTFBWY (may the force be with you... ha, ha, ha.) and TDTM (talk dirty to me)... which all made me want to say, WTF? When did I grow up, and how did I get so far out of the loop???

To get back in said loop, I recently created a Twitter account. And by recent, I mean today. About an hour ago. I created it mainly because my two roommates and I had no fucking clue what a "Twitter" was. I have to admit, I'm still a little bit foggy about the whole ordeal.

It seems to me that it's a site full of Facebook Minifeed updates.

So-and-so is watching the Grammy's, and thinks M.I.A. might give birth right in the middle of her swaggering.

Why the hell would anyone want to use a site like this? And who really cares?

We brought in the AIM, Facebook, and Tomagatchi generation, and now, we're being surpassed by the throngs of children who 'Tweet', who text rather than converse, and who use the word like as a noun, pronoun, verb and adjective, which is far trickier than it seems.

Standing in line behind a woman at Safeway the other day, I watched as she tried to use a coupon for her Prilosec OTC purchase. The cashier informed her that she had to go online to input some information to receive the discount. The woman handed back the coupon, as well as the acid reflux pills, and shook her head angrily.

"I don't have a computer. Nevermind," she said, gathering her purse as she left.

What?!? How does she check her e-mail? How does she peruse E-Bay for discount tea kettles and vintage sunglasses? How does she live??!!?

Then it came to me. She, like me, must have given up on technology sometime in her twenties. The roaring 50's took their toll, and she just couldn't fathom using electricity and driving a car without a crank lever...

Kidding aside, I feel her pain. It happens to the best of us. In her youth, Gertrude (as we will refer to her) was probably all a twitter (excuse the blatant pun) with the excitement of the hydrogen bomb and birth control, when the subsequent development credit cards and polio vaccine threw her for a loop. Too much, too soon...

My days of being up-and-coming on the tech scene, much like Gerty, are past. I'll forever show my age by using phrases like "Do you have cable?" or using the seldom heard proper terms, 'cellular phone' or 'text message'... or even asking the rarely uttered, "Can I write a check?".

Yep, my youth is gone.

Dag nabbit.