Hanging Up!

phone

 

 

 

Had it happen? Someone blocked you off their Facebook page? Maybe you had to block some twat who was being a, well, twat? It’s my generation’s answer to slamming down the phone. Fuck, that was always so satisfying!

About a month ago, a good friend of mine blocked me. She’s relatively new to Facebook, well, internet, really, so like all of us Olds, she has a lot of pent up anger to vent. Oh, the discovery of disagreeing with someone who is miles, countries away, getting all angry and shit and then just losing it and calling them a stupid cunt or something! Woof! That’s good.

 

So, about a month ago, she was on Facebook, shitting all over stuff she had no business shitting on. It’s about 5 am here, so about 1 am for her in Alberta. She went on to one of my friend’s page and starting in, and I called her on it. I wasn’t nice, but not as mean as I could have been. I was just fed up. I can do that. We’re friends.

We’ve been friends for a long time. A. Long. Time. We started hanging out when I turned Bar Age, which was 18 in Alberta. I turned 18 in 1979. That’s right, my Lovelies. I’ve been hammered for almost 40 years.

But she blocked me. How disposable we are, with a click of a button we cease to exist.  In my days of slamming down the phone, or having one slammed in my ear, we all lived in the same town and it was almost impossible to avoid each other. We had all the same friends.  We have fallen out before. Many time, actually. I assume she’ll come around. Maybe not.

Perhaps it’s all just run it’s course. I hope not. I haven’t lived in the same town as her since about 1986 but we always kept in touch. Always. maybe she’ll think fondly of me. Maybe she has enough friends already.

In this disposable society, I hope I’m at least recyclable.

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