November 20, 2009
Tourism boards are finally getting that Facebook is a great way to promote themselves. Sydney offered up a trip down under as a Facebook contest, and even Auschwitz has its own page for promotional purposes. Amsterdam has thrown its clogs 'n' tulips 'n' hash in the ring, offering up a cool contest to win a trip to the stoner city; the catch is you really have to give something up. You enter your information and snap a photo of something you're willing to trade for the free trip to Amsterdam (which includes airfare, a three-night stay at the Lloyd Hotel (breakfast included), topped off with one free dinner). Whatever you're trading in for the trip will be gifted to the Lloyd Hotel and showcased in their lobby.


When I phoned home last night, my mother skipped past all perfunctory greetings and nervously confided, "Facebook ... is like an addiction, isn't it?" I sighed long and deep before responding, "Yes." Then, a caveat: "But unlike me, you have a meaningful life outside of it, so I don't need you getting addicted to it." I've passed on friend requests from not only her, but also nearly 20 other aunts and uncles. Not necessarily because I have anything to hide, apart from an inexplicable photo series involving a red bird and I'm not about to take that down to appease people with ornithological hang-ups. I just don't want people whose last memories of me may involve me awkwardly plunking my way through a piano recital to ask me at a family reunion, over a decade since, "So I saw you're a Facebook Fan of
Someday, I'm going to sit down my adopted boy or girl who was cruelly wrenched away from his/her/its loving family of Himalayan sherpas and explain, "Once upon a time, people used to have relationships. They used to exchange mixtapes that typically had horrible songs by Sophie B. Hawkins because they loved each other and that's what love used to sound like. They didn't have to worry about the needling scrutiny of 500-plus near-strangers, thumbing through their photo album about that cute date at the arcade, where they played Mortal Kombat and noisily slurped Big Gulps. When they weren't happy with each other, they would just sleep with each other's best friends, not post passive-aggressive status updates. And back then, no one really had status updates. People would actually live their lives, instead of writing about living out their lives. Yes, little Lha-mo, the 1990s were golden, wondrous times." But unfortunately, we're not so far along. So instead, let's wonder what the proper course of action would be for the latest member of the celebrity fustercluck to suffer break-up tragedy via Twitter: Lindsay Lohan. Seriously, who else would you be expecting?