medium – Page 22 – The only certainty is bad grammar

I still like Facebook / Newspapers should learn from Facebook

Published: May 14, 2010 / Updated: May 14, 2010 Crystal humor, im cool, medium

Maybe it’s because I’m a blogger, or because I’m a journalist or because I already go around wearing my heart on my tank-top sleeve, but I just do not care if Facebook gives my information to everyone ever all the time.

I don’t.

I use the freaking site for free. FREE! As in, I pay no money to do glorious things such as but not limited to: upload 3,439 photos to the site; send out mass message alerts to my high school youth group kids; and post links to this here blog.

No. Money. At. All.

So, if Mark Zukerburg feels the need to tell Barnes and Noble that I like to read books about humor, fine. Actually, better than fine, because then I get ads that I actually give a crap about.

And if you’re randomly worried that Facebook is shouting from the Internet rooftops about your favorite movies and/or telling Pandora you only listen to country music, than maybe you should just not list your favorite movies on the site to begin with and take Shania Twain off your music section.

Duh.

And well we’re on the topic of things that need to make money, I think newspapers could learn a lot from Facebook.

Basically readers have been using them for free for decades. The 75 cents they charge is for the actual cost of the physical paper and wet ink. The content is all paid for by ads, as in, users get it free.

But the newspaper advertising model now totally sucks when you compare it to super sophisticated things like Facebook, where I only see ads for Taco Bell and Johnny Depp movies because I only like Taco Bell and Johnny Depp movies.

Why are there still newspaper sites out there throwing random ads online about how to lose 1 pound of belly fat each week by following one simple rule? WHY? They should be getting tons of information from their users and then selling it so they can go back to their real mission – gathering content about important things like political scandals, car accidents and parades.

Every reader should only ever see ads that are relevant to their lives and no reader ever should have to fund content.

Also, I just really want this whole “newspapers are dying” thing to get worked out so I can make a decent wage and pay off my student loans and put aside a little extra cash in case Facebook starts charging me.

Getting game

May 11, 2010 Crystal feminism?, humor, im cool, medium, Wow

I’m thinking my 10-year-old sister has better game than me, which I’m sure offers some insight into why I’m single.

I mean, first the girl totally called me out on the corny, corny flirting I was doing with the boy working at the mall food court, all, “THEN, Crystal said, ‘uuu, can I ring your bell?,'” and then, she gave me the genius idea of how to give said boy my phone number.

“Oh! I know,” she tells me. “Just go up and say you need a refill on my Mountain Dew and then give him your number.”

Ladies and gentlemen, “My sister — the player.”

But, I was all, “I’m too scared. I mean, what if he says no, and I die? Or what if he has a girlfriend and she’s standing behind me and hears me and then beats me up and I get a concussion and then I die? Or, what if he thinks I’m the ugliest person ever in the world, heck the universe! AND he tells me so and I die? OR, what if I give him my number and he rips it up right in front of me, and as little pieces of sad napkin confetti fall to the floor, I die? OR!!!! What if he’s really an alien, and I give him my number and then he abducts me and I die. On the moon??!!!”

And my little sister was all, “What? Huh? Dude, I really do need a drink refill, so ya.”

So I found a pen, wrote my number on a napkin and tried my best to sound clever while asking if they charge for soda refills. (They don’t.)

And when he tried to be clever back, all, “Ya, $5,” I took it as a sign that he was totally into me and asked if he had a girlfriend. (He doesn’t).

Then I said, “Well, here’s my number if you want to call me sometime or something.”

AND TWO HOURS LATER HE TOTALLY TEXTED ME!!!! (Dear spell check, texted is a real word. Love, me).

And then we ended up watching a movie together.

And I might even see him again.

And I didn’t even die!!

YAY!!!

I need you to need me.

Published: May 6, 2010 / Updated: May 6, 2010 Crystal anti-meat, feminism?, god, humor, im cool, medium

I was strolling though the Barnes and Noble yesterday at the mall where that girl got stabbed (true story) and I saw this book called, “Why men love b*tches.”

And I was all, “Crap, why DO men love b*tches?” So I picked it up and read it. The entire first two pages. And it had all this stuff in there about how men like a “mental challenge” and women who “know what they want” and I was all, “Frick. I’m too nice.”

Then, I kind of started freaking out in a needy sort of way.

That’s how I roll.

I’m needy, with a capital NEEDY.

Wait. Please don’t go. Stay. Please. PLEASE!

I usually just blame all my screwed-upness on my childhood, because my childhood was very weird. No. No. Weirder than whatever you’re thinking right now. In fact, take whatever you’re thinking, times it by 40 and add dead mice.

To be fair, the dead mice thing mostly was handled by little brother Steve while I was at college (Go Steve!). But still, there were dozens of dead mice. In my house!

So ya. That’s why I’m screwed up.

I have this problem where I constantly worry that whichever boy I’m with will find a hotter girl because there’s no way I’ll ever be THE hottest girl ever and boys only like girls for looks, right? I worry that I’ll call too much. Or that he’ll randomly leave. And now, I worry that I worry too much.

I don’t understand how to date.

I just want a boy to come along, and not suck and embrace all my neediness with a smile and not worry about the fact that when it comes to men I have the confidence of a cow at a slaughter house (that’s my vegetarian plug of the day). I don’t want to pretend I’m easy going when I’m clearly not. I don’t want to pretend that I don’t like to know plans in advance, when I clearly do. And I don’t want to make you think it’s OK if you’re atheist when it is clearly not.

I don’t want to work on me for you. I want to just be me with you.

And, I’m kind of awesome once you get past the fact that I like to call you six times a day and text 500 times an hour. I’m smart, I have a strong faith and some people call me pretty. Once in a while, I bet I’ll make you laugh, I’ll never judge you for eating Taco Bell, and I’ll talk football with you any day of the week and twice on Sundays.

Oh, and I have a super awesome blog.

And if a guy would just take three seconds to see past my shaking hands, and total lack of confidence, I bet we could totally rock together.

Maybe. Probably. Eventually. Right?