Facebook foibles: Can unfriending be amicable?

Facebook friendships can be a tangled web – or a prize fight.

I received a friend request the other day on Facebook. Hey, it happens. But this time, it was a little weird.

Frankly, I didn’t recognize the person, but we had lots of mutual friends. Plus, she apparently belongs to several of the same special-interest/recreational groups to which I do. So I accepted her friend request.

That’s where the trouble started.

Before the day was out, I spotted a post she had put up in a Facebook group to which we both belonged. It linked to her personal Facebook page and her Facebook business page as well. 

The post quoted one of my online articles – verbatim and in full – without permission for publication.

It was copyright infringement, plain and simple.

My publisher does not take kindly to such things. So I messaged this new “friend” and informed her as kindly as possible that the information was copyrighted.

Hey, maybe she didn’t know about copyrights, plagiarism, and publication laws. Lots of people don’t. Or, at least, they claim they don’t.

I suggested she remove the post (and all shares of it) before the publisher spotted it and possibly took action.

Apparently, she did remove the offending posts. But she also removed me promptly from her Facebook friends list.

This person, who approached me first and whom I still don’t even know, was friends with me for about six hours. That was it.

No harm, no foul. Right? Maybe … or maybe not.

Facebook does not issue notifications when someone dumps a friend. But it’s easy to tell, if one looks at that person’s page and sees the “Add Friend” button. That’s pretty much a dead giveaway.

So much for alerting someone ahead of time to possible legal action. And so much for a new friendship.

Well, you can pick your friends, but …

Image/s:

Vintage/public domain artwork

Spot-off weather report.

Phew! My homeward drive took longer than expected, as I piloted my vehicle through several highway construction zones in a total downpour that lasted for several minutes.

During the storm, I switched on the car radio, looking for a weather update. And I found one!

“We have a slight chance of rain this afternoon,” the meteorologist announced.

But I could barely hear him, over the sound of pelting rain on the roof of my car and the swishing of my windshield wipers.

Slight chance? I think I’ll take a rain check on that report.

Sounds like something’s a little slight, but it’s not the chance of wet weather around here today.

Maybe it’s time to start a tempest in someone’s teacup.

Hey, weatherman! Here’s a bolt from the blue.

I hate to rain on some professional’s proverbial parade, and I wouldn’t wanna steal his thunder. Still, let me throw caution to the wind.

And I'm no stormchaser, but I am pretty sure a total deluge equals 100 percent chance of precipitation.

Where do they find these guys, on Cloud Nine? Or are a few of them simply seven sheets to the wind?

Image/s:
Positively Pouring
Created by this user
on eCard template

Rainy Windshield

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Visions of PSYCHO in the shower

I just nearly died in the shower. Seriously, I did.

On a quiet weekend morning, I climbed out of bed to enjoy a leisurely shower. I was pretty sure I had the whole house to myself.

OK, a couple of teens were sacked out in the other room, but it would take an Old Testament marvel to rouse them.

I was certain of this, as I’d sent them to bed just a few hours earlier.

So I grabbed the opportunity to take a non-rushed shower.

I snatched my shampoo and intense therapy comb-through hair conditioner. (Hey, I only bother with the more time-consuming products on down-time weekends.)

I fairly sighed, as I stood in the perfect temperature water, lathering up my locks and enjoying some peace and quiet.

And then it happened.

I heard a click. Or at least, I thought I did. Next, I heard a cupboard door slam.

What!?!

I nearly fainted. Startled, I struggled to stay on my feet.

With shampoo running into my eyes, I peered through the steamy shower door.

He was already gone.

Still, the bathroom door was now unlocked. And the towel hanging on a hook on the back of the door was still swinging.

The Boundaries-Don’t-Apply-to-Me-Bandit had come and gone.

I resumed my shower, switched off the spigot, and wrapped in my towel. Stepping from the shower, I peeked into his bathroom cupboard. His toiletries kit was gone.

Hitchcock never dreamed up anything so stressful. It may not have been a stranger, but it was most definitely an intruder.

Image/s:

Movie Stills

From PSYCHO (1960)

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