Facebook...Dear Amy consoles jilted friend!

Lopez no friend of mine!

The "Dear Amy" columnist at one of the daily papers was asked to give her opinion on an incident which occurred on Facebook recently.

The write-in correspondent was irate over the fact that a woman she was friends with years ago - but lost touch with - uploaded her picture (and stats) recently and included her in a circle of friends pictured there.

"How dare she infer I am a friend," the irate Facebook-user lamented to Dear Amy.

Right on, lady!

Here's on how the dictionary defines the term friend:

friend

–noun

1.	a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.

2.	a person who gives assistance; patron; supporter: friends of the Boston Symphony.

3.	a person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile: Who goes there? Friend or foe?

4.	a member of the same nation, party, etc.

5.	(initial capital letter) a member of the Religious Society of Friends; a Quaker.

Ha!

Just as I surmised.

A friend is not a mere acquaintance, but rather, a special person in one's life.

And, once a bond has been established between two individuals - the relationship should be cherished - not treated lightly or cast off so carelessly like disposable rash.

In my estimation, if a person ends up with at least five real friends during the course of their lifelong existence on this mortal coil (trustworthy, loyal, and true) they should count themselves lucky, too.

Part of the problem rests with (and has been created by) Facebook staff.

For example, one day when I logged in to my Facebook homepage, I spied a photo of writer Steven Lopez staring down at me from a prominent section of the web page.

A caption beneath it (embedded into the home page) suggested that I contact Mr. Lopez with the ultimate aim of becoming "friends".

Since Facebook has been known to hook-up folks who have mutual friends (or take a good-faith stab at connecting individuals in the same line of work for networking purposes) I clicked on the link provided - at which point - the friendship request zipped off into the blogosphere.

Imagine that!

In spite of the fact Steven Lopez touts himself as a good-guy columnist at the Los Angeles Times daily newspaper, the gushing word-pusher didn't even give me the courtesy of a reply!

What an a**hole!

Yup, the old stick-in-the-mud, is on my enemies list now.

Next time, I'll expect to be wined and dined - and courted a little - before I cave in at Facebook.

Hell hath no fury like a potential friend scorned!

The fabric of friendship

http://www.julianayrs.com

UCLA...cafeteria worker has cheese for brains! Sign of the times..

To have salmon or not to have salmon, that is the question...



Occasionally, I stop into the cafeteria at UCLA around lunch-time for a snack.

In view of the recent outbreak of a stomach virus at USC, one can't be too careful, so I checked out the offerings for lunch quite carefully.

At one of the server's outlets - there was an example of a lunch-plate special consisting of salmon, potatoes, vegetables, and corn on the cob - on display.

Looked scrumptious!

But, how would it be delivered up "when and if" I chose to order it?

So, I asked the middle-aged woman behind the counter - who usually trolls around the cafeteria early in the morning with a sour pout on her face looking everyone up and down with disdain - if the lunch special would look as good as it did on display when it arrived on my plate.

She plunked a piece of salmon on a plate, then asked me a question.

"Would you like potatoes with that?"

Was I missing something here?

I paused a moment.

"Toast or roll," she continued without batting an eye.

At this juncture, I politely noted that she didn't answer my question.

"No. I didn't," she replied with this dumb look on her face.

So, I waited for the response.

Nothing.

The lights were barely on, but most certainly, no one was at home.

"Aren't you going to answer my question," I politely prodded her.

"Well," she snidely remarked, "It would just be my opinion."

Whoa - Nellie!

God forbid she should be required to offer that up.

Does that cost extra?

Gee Willikers!

Yes, this screw-ball old gal - with the blank stare and burnt out aura - was working on a counter for three or four bucks an hour.

And, for some inexplicable reason, she was under the mistaken impression that she was a philosopher!

Ah, it's a sign of the times.

People are working in jobs they can't stand, displaying the worst attitudes imaginable - and to boot - are taking out their failures in life on the customer.

Give us a break.

If you hate your job, quit.

The world doesn't owe you a living, lady.