I finally opened an account on Facebook, joining millions of other people who are openly admitting they have nothing better to do. I’ve had an account with Twitter for a few weeks and I’ve already found a vital distinction between the two: with Twitter, I have to go looking for people in order to read their pithy comments, whereas on Facebook, a random classmate from junior high can find me and is instantly sent a humiliating and hurtful rejection email when I choose to click the little virtual button that tells the entire world I do not wish to be his friend. I was pretty sure that the rock I hit him with in seventh grade was my indication that I did not wish to be his friend, but apparently he believes time heals all wounds.

I do admit that I have been slightly fascinated with Facebook, but only because I’ve been an account holder for approximately four days. It will wear off shortly.

The only serious gripe that I have against Facebook is that now I am subjected to every random thought, photograph, and dubious accolade that all of these people think I need to know about. It’s like being invited to an acquaintance’s house for dinner and then being subjected to a slide show of her vacation to the Grand Canyon. Entirely against my will. I think ransom notes were exchanged.

My very dear friend went to Disney World and for the next week I was bombarded with photographs of her with every plush member of the Disney crew. The photos were cute, I admit, and the friend is very precious to me. Then she sent me a photograph of her telephone display that showed it was some 68 degrees warmer in Orlando than it is at my house. I hope It’s A Small World breaks down while she’s riding it and strands her for hours with that song.

However, her incessant bragging via Facebook about the fact that she is in Orlando and I am not pales in comparison to the daily horoscope a different friend has opted to automatically pollute my Facebook wall with, a friend who hasn’t bothered to check on the fact that thanks to an ongoing argument in the astrology world I am no longer a Virgo. Now I get to read about the freaking phenomenal day I would have had if all the astrologers could have just kept their damn mouths shut and not turned me into a Leo.

Possibly the worst thing about Facebook is I am content to look down my nose at the sheer uselessness of it but I still feel compelled to hit that little button on my phone to check it fourteen times a day (Yes, I bought a brand-new smartphone so I could have features like the ability to talk on the phone ans use the Internet at the same time…while driving my car and drinking a grande latte). I justify the compulsion by pretending that I only go there to ridicule it, like when I generically informed my entire friend list that I had updated my status to “Wearing my Snuggie.”

I will have to cut my Facebook time down to a bare minimum since I understand from genuine fans that it can really become an addiction, thereby decreasing my productivity. That’s a real concern of mine since I’m in a huge hurry to write the Facebook app that will allow all of the newbie Ophiuchuses of the world to know what is going to happen to them today.