Facebook: For the ego that needs a beating

I signed up for Facebook. This is my second go-around with the site, to be honest. I tried it out for a week last year and didn't really like it. But a lot of people I know are using it, and I like to keep up with things.

Anyway, they have these targeted ads on the site. Facebook has decided that the targeted ads I want to see are from a "Thirty Plus" dating Web site.

Thanks, Facebook. As if I don't already feel like a weird old-man-stalker type using your site.

State of the Thunder Cats

Did you hear the governor last night? Massachusetts is on the move! So the governor's secret is out: He's actually Lion-O from the ThunderCats:



So if Massachusetts is the ThunderCats, who's Mumm-Ra, our sworn enemy? I say New Hampshire. I'm sure Dan Kennedy would say it casino gambling. The firefighters would say its Mayor Menino, although I think he's the perfect Snarf.

Memo to Tom Reilly: You suck

Lost in all the talk of the Big Dig settlement is this: Tom Reilly was ready to settle for less money than is needed just to repair the shoddy work left behind in the project. What in God's name was he thinking? And he wanted to be governor?

I am an iPod Jedi master

Guilty admission: I got a compliment on my iPod’s diverse music selection, and I have been gloating over it for two days.

(Yes, I am a dork)

Two friends of mine threw a fantastic New Year’s party in the Back Bay, and asked that people bring their iPods along to dock with their spiffy new stereo. That way, everyone could play DJ. That’s a fantastic idea and it’s something I’ll include in all future parties.

So I brought my iPod, and dropped it into the dock to play some Fratellis. After a while, I forgot about it, until someone got their hands on the thing and made a bitchin’ On-The-Go playlist that everyone loved. As I left the apartment, the music was still going, so I asked my friends to hang onto the iPod til the next day.

Yesterday afternoon, I got a text:

"BTW, I’m not giving your iPod back."

My heart went soaring.

I don’t know why, but it feels like a confirmation that years and years of collecting music has led to some sort of accomplishment. Stupid, I know, but hey, it feels good to think I’m some sort of Ahmet Ertegün in waiting.