Old Busted Hotness

Did you ever take real close notice of how Facebook seems to know everything about you? It knows what you do, what you like, what you purchase, where you go and a whole lot of other stuff. Pretty soon, it’s going to know when you take a bathroom break! Facebook is watching you.

Most of us sorta kinda know this and we tolerate it. You can’t do internet business these days without Facebook and it is THE best way to keep up with friends and family. It provides a service. . . a valuable one. And, therefore, I guess, Zuck and company feel they can pry into everything in our lives in return. It’s one of those necessary evils of the modern age.

This morning, however, I noticed something new in Facebook’s observant ways. When I went to say Happy Birthday to the names that came up on the right side of the page, there was the standard window to type your greeting in, but there was also something else. Actually, I had noticed the line about, “Do you want to send Poindexter a gift?” before. I’m like, “Yeah, if I want to send him a gift, I’ll do it myself. Bite me.”

But today there was an added attraction. I got a list of Poindexter’s likes! Under the box was the “Do you want to send Poindexter a gift” routine and then. . . a list of what Poindexter likes! In this case, my Poindexter likes Starbucks, 1-800-Flowers and I forget what else.

So busybody me decided to click on the Starbucks link to see what it did. It took me to a page to purchase a $5 Starbucks gift card for Poindexter. A couple of clicks and VOILA. . . instant birthday gift! Now I can see where this could come in handy, especially if someone was close to you and you forgot their birthday. It says “I care,” a little bit more than just writing “Happy Birthday” on their wall does. But still. . .

People that I would spend money on a gift for, well, I know what they like. I don’t need to be told. When I thought about it for more than a few seconds, it felt creepy. I love being reminded of birthdays and it takes maybe 5 seconds to write “Happy Birthday” in that box and brighten someone’s day. But now Facebook is trying to make me spend money and then telling me what to spend it on. This could make Old Busted Hotness mighty paranoid if they keep it up!

What gets to me is how they seem to be watching us outside of Facebook, too. I’ve had things pop up on my sidebars that I’ve looked at on Amazon and a few other mass market retailers. Are they connected? If so, wouldn’t it be nice to let us know? Does Facebook have tracking cookies that follow us all over the net? It’s one thing to shadow us on Facebook, but other places?

I know that Facebook is one big advertising ploy to bring advertisers to it by providing them with a humongous potential customer base, but come on, Zuck. . . you’re seriously starting to creep me out. If I sign on one day and hear “Twilight Zone” music, Old Busted Hotness is gonna really freak out big time! I can guarantee you it won’t be pretty.

Old Busted Hotness just came back from a quick weekend in Atlantic City. Now I’ve been there many times, but this is the first time I have been on the inside of a club since way back in the middle ages. Yep, that’s right. The old gal went to a night club for young’uns (gasp, horror, shock!) Why? I had an interview right outside the club and then my PR guy asked me if I wanted to go in. I squared my shoulders and said, “Sure, why not?”

The music hit me like a sonic boom the moment the door swung open. It was dark with lights flashing and boy, oh  boy, was it crowded with sweet young things looking for a date. Once I got used to the volume, the band wasn’t too bad. As I was scoping out the outfits (or lack of them), I noticed a new fashion accessory on almost all of the ladies. No, it wasn’t a scarf or a certain type of shoes or jewelry. It was. . . .a cell phone!

Now I know everybody has a cell phone in today’s world. I have one. Mine is even a smart phone, which is probably a waste on me. But there was a difference. My phone was in my purse. Every young person in the club had their phone in their hand. Well, that’s not exactly true. Some of them had them in their bra. They must have. Nobody’s boobs are shaped like that! I can understand why. It’s hard when you have one hand wrapped around a guy and the other wrapped around a drink. And you just can’t put that phone in your purse. You might miss something!

As I watched in utter amazement, I stared at young people attempting to establish relationships in this highly-charged atmosphere while talking to one person and texting another. I know multi-tasking is a plus and women are better at it than men, but.. . . can’t anybody spell r-u-d-e anymore?

The wild part of this game was that nobody seemed to mind. Relationships were being established, short or long term unknown, friendships were being made, dancing was being done, drinks were being consumed and, all the while, the phones never stopped. It truly boggled my mind!

In today’s crazy world your phone is very important. I get that. I use mine more than I ever thought I would. But how can you gaze lovingly into someone else’s eyes while you’re texting? The answer is you can’t. You can’t truly pay attention to someone else while you’re hitting those keys at the speed of light and checking for your next most-important-in-the-world message.

I walked out shaking my head, phone still securely tucked in my purse. Maybe it’s sour grapes on my part because nobody called or messaged me the whole time. Or maybe it’s just that Old Busted Hotness has lived too long. I doubt I’ll ever be comfortable talking to one person while texting another. Actually, I doubt I’ll ever have the manual dexterity combined with the number of brain cells necessary to do it! I guess the younger generation has a different genetic makeup. They must have a phone gene that some of us well over the age of consent are missing.

How, then, are we to play the Game of Phones? Or maybe a better question is. . . do we even want to?