I might like you better if we...weren't Facebook friends

Hey everyone. It's Lesley again. 

Sup?

A few months ago, I made the decision to quit Facebook.  People have asked me if I miss it, and the truth is, I don’t. My relationship has improved, I’m able to give my daughter my full attention, and, I like my friends more. 

Don’t pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about.  

We've all been there.  One day at lunch, your friend Barbara says that she’s trying to lose weight, but her next Facebook post is a picture of her at some novelty restaurant, face smeared with barbecue sauce, wearing a bib that says “I ate the Big Kahuna!” with the caption “New record! 52 ounce steak in 15 minutes!”  
Barbara…God D*mn it. I bet you’re going to cancel our walk tomorrow too. 

But this isn't about Barbara. 

It’s about the things that we all do that annoy the crap out of each other on Facebook. And I’m calling you out. Because I’m not on there, so you can’t un-friend me.

Let’s just dive right in, shall we? Let’s see how many of you see your friends, loved ones or, gasp, even yourself, in these Facebook types:

 Search Engine Impaired Guy –  “What do Disneyland annual passes cost?” “What’s the name of that new movie with Jennifer Aniston?” Seriously?  I know you have a data plan on your phone. You’re using it to post on Facebook.  If you’re lonely and need attention, just post a picture of your junk. At least that’s entertaining and it doesn't require any of your friends to do research on your behalf.  Lazy bastard.

The Weatherman – Now, I love that Facebook helps to keep me connected to my family and friends in other states. I enjoy seeing my aunt in Nebraska post a gorgeous photo titled: “First Snow.”

But you know what I DON’T need?  “It’s hot.” “Man, it’s hot.” This bugs me specifically when the weather being reported is typical for this time of year…I mean, if you live in Palm Springs, and it’s August and SNOWING, by all means, post that! I wanna know that the apocalypse is starting.

Generally though, that’s not the case. Instead it’ll be one of my friends from San Bernardino, saying “Man, it’s almost 100!” And nobody “likes” it except their mom (clearly a sympathy “like”)…and nobody comments…because there’s nothing to say except “Yep. According to the Farmer’s Almanac, for the past 150 years, the average temp hovers around 98. In 1951, there was a low of 88, and a high of 103 in 1996.” Seriously dude. If you’re that compelled to report the weather, I hear there’s an internship at KCAL 9.

The Fisherman –  I think that this is everyone’s favorite to make fun of.  Their posts are always cryptic and give just enough information to make you worry, and generate a comment thread that goes on longer than the ship in the opening scene of Space Balls.

Common posts include:

“Emergency room visits are always fun.”

“Seriously don’t think I can handle this for one more minute.”

“I give and I give and this is how you treat me.”

Let me be clear…This is only acceptable if you’re The Riddler, and even then, it’s still annoying. 

What you’re doing is the in-person equivalent of a big sigh.  We all know that when someone gives us the big sigh it means:  “PLEASE ask me what’s wrong…I mean, I’ll say nothing, but if you keep trying, eventually I’ll tell you.” 

So, the fisherman posts his teaser status update and within moments, the floodgates open and all the posts come in:  “What’s wrong sweetie?” “This too, shall pass.” I feel like Dr. Phil and practically scream at these well-meaning souls:  “Stop enabling him!!!”

Honestly, my first reaction is never concern. I’m always overcome with the desire to post something untrue that would really embarrass them.

Fisherman: “I don’t think I can handle this. Prayers please.”

Me: “I told you! Relax and use more lube.”

Fisherman: “Should I really go through with this?”

Me: “We all agree that you’ll look much better as a woman than a man. I mean, it can’t get any worse, can it?”

The only reason I don’t do this is out of fear.  Fear that one day, one time, their status will actually be something horrible. 99% of the time it’s not. They’re probably just in a long line at Wal-Mart or waiting for the results of their smog check.  But what if, the ONE time I chime in, they just found out that they have cancer of the puppy and then I’m the a-hole for eternity.

The Obsessed Facebook Gamer – You know who you are. You don’t even have a profile photo, but you’ve sent me game requests 3 times today.  Ehem…I DON’T GIVE A SH*T ABOUT YOUR FARM!!

John Madden – You didn't sign up for a play-by-play, but you're getting one. He’ll go for weeks with not a single post and then, over a 3 hour period, will post 15 times, and send my phone into freak-out mode, simultaneously causing me great worry and draining my cell phone battery.

Post thread:

“Worst call ever.”

*moments later* “Sacked again!”

*moments later* “Interception in the redzone? Why?!?”

First of all, if we cared about the game, we’d be watching it. Your out of context posts mean nothing to me. Second, you’re ruining the game for people that may want to watch it when they get home. That’s just rude.  Spoiler alert!  On that note….

Spoiler Alert Guy – I have actually removed people from my newsfeed for being this type of a-hole.  Opening day of a new movie, this chump blasts out a major plot point.  “Omg! When Tom Hanks lost his volleyball in the ocean I was dying! WIIIILLLLSOOOON! GAH!!! #cryinglikeabitch”

Look, if you wanna post some feedback, that’s great!

DO:  Sex and The City Two was a serious waste of my time and money. Bleh! 

DON’T:  OMG Sex and The City Two was so bad! The part when Liza Minnelli performed at the wedding was great but all downhill from there. Plus the whole Aiden/Carrie cheating thing. Ugh. Break my heart!

No joke, I've had people that post of Facebook immediately following a new episode of The Walking Dead “Can’t believe that so and so died! Epic surprise!”  

Spoiler Alert:  You’re a douche.

I could go on….we all know “Workout” guy, “Incorrect grammar all the time” guy, “Never posts anything but memes” guy and “Pocket post” guy, where they can never seem to remember to lock their screen so half of their posts are “hoiho9870987.” 

Let’s all work on being considerate with our Facebook posts.

I really don’t think I can handle this anymore….

Emergency room visits are always fun.

I give and I give….and this is how you treat me.

My Forgasm

I had another fatty moment today. For those of you who have never read my blog before, I refer to myself as a fatty because I love food, not because I am the size of a Sasquatch. The term foody sounds to, how should I put this, gay for me. Try using it in a sentence sometimes. You feel very homosexual afterwards. Example: "Bob and I are big foodies. We just love sampling a little bit of everything. It's the foody in us." Gay, right?

Fatty's, such as myself, love food and will eat just about anything. That's right, even some fatty's have their limits. Mine is avocado, large amounts of butter, and anything from Burger King. Beyond that, I am pretty much set to consume anything that is put in front of me. I was the kid in 6th grade that earned 100 points for my team because I was the only person brave enough to eat escargot. But while a fatty will eat even some of the craziest things people can consume, they will tell you where you can get some of the best items your stomach is craving. Allow me to paint a picture.

Everybody loves hamburgers. Even my vegetarian friends love a good veggie burger, and await the day when a good bacon substitute is created to go on said burger. Being from California, we have one of the burger joints that the rest of the nation covets, In-N-Out. To this day, when I pick up my family from the airport, our first stop is In-N-Out, because that is the one thing the miss from California . . . I am number two. I love my family, coming in second behind In-N-Out. Look at us Huckaby's and our priorities. Can you blame us? In-N-Out is amazing. Saying you don't like In-N-Out is like saying you don't like George Clooney. That man, much like those burgers, is just delightful.

I believe Tucker Max said it best in his book, I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell: "I have only fallen in love three times in my life, and the first bite of that Double-Double was one of those times. The crispy bun complimenting the cool lettuce, the special sauce accentuating the fresh tomato, the sweet meat mixing with the salty cheese, all of it coming together in a harmonious medley of flavor thus far unseen on the American fast food landscape - I was smitten. It was the single greatest fast food meal in the history of civilization. Even though I was full, I immediately ate another Double-Double. I was nearly in tears at this meal, it was so transcendentally excellent. Those fuckers should hire me as a spokesman."

As wonderful as In-N-Out is, they are not known for their variety. If you want some crazy toppings on your burger, you have to venture out to places like Carls Jr or Five Guys. If you don't mind the restaurant atmosphere, Red Robin is always a great choice. But what is the best substitute for the guy who loves In-N-Out but still wants variety? How can one have his burger, and eat it too? (See what I did there? Oh the cleverness of me.)

My friend Troy and I were having this discussion several months ago at a hamburger joint in Palm Springs called Hamburger Mary's. I was enjoying my Buffy the Hamburgerslayer (complete with roasted garlic cloves and Caesar dressing) while Troy was devouring his Blue Cheese Burger. Because Troy is a fellow fatty, especially when it comes to burgers, I asked him if that was the best burger he had ever had. As he set his monstrosity of burger back down on his plate, he shook his head. "This is great. But not the best."

Curious, I asked him what could possibly beat these crazy concotions that Hamburger Mary's provided. That is when he told me about this mystical restaurant called Slaters 50/50. Where burgers are made as huge as your head, and every topping you could think of can be yours. Where the milkshakes are just as good as dairy queen, and the fries are crazy delicious. For ten minutes, he described to me the burger that he created on his first visit to this wonderful place. Truthfully, he had me at fried egg, because I had just been introduced to this new burger craze and was fascinated that there was a place that served them.

And then he said the words I will never forget, "If you love bacon, you will love Slaters." To which my response, "Who doesn't like bacon? Bacon is magical. It can tame any savage beasts hunger." I may have embellished that a little, but its true. Bacon is proof that god exists . . . through food. I will not believe for a second that their wasn't some higher power that created bacon for us to enjoy. No animal crawled out of the primordial soup and evolved into a pig, that just happened to have also evolved into the greatest tasting meat on the planet. I call shenanigans, good sir. You're probably asking yourself, "Did he just prove God's existence with Bacon?" Yeah. I went there. Bacon is also my example of temptation, because it is not a kosher product but how can one stay away when the aroma of cooked bacon is in the air.

For months I was plagued by the ideas of Slaters 50/50. I have had great burgers. I even went to Father's Office in LA whose burger won the gold medal for best burger in Southern California and were featured on Top Chef. Could Slaters 50/50 even hold a candle to that? No way had Troy found this little gem that I had failed to discover.

Last week, my mother in law wanted to go to lunch. When I asked her where she wanted to go, she mentioned she was craving Wendy's because of all the billboards she had seen, advertizing the new Pretzel Bun Bacon Burger. With the mention of a hamburger, I asked her if she would like to try this new "magical" place that Troy had told me about. Bottom line, she was in.

I am going to warn you. I had a food orgasum, or a forgasm, as I like to call them. I was taken somewhere that no hamburger has ever taken me before. Slaters 50/50 did things to me that I would not be comfortable talking about in front of small children. I apologize for all the sexual innuendos that are about to be read. But that's how good this damn thing was.

First off, I could create my own hamburger. While some of you skeptical people are reading this, you are probably saying to yourself, "Pffft. That's not unheard of." The choices for Slaters 50/50 were off the charts. Not only could I choose from 8 different patties, but I could also choose the size. The cheese choices were off the charts, they had brie and smoked Gouda for crying out loud. A handfull of bread choices, including a Bacon Pretzel Bun . . . let that sink in . . . a Pretzel Bun . . . infuesed with bacon. And the toppings, just to name a few: bacon, tomato, pickles, fried pickles, onions, grilled onions, onion rings, grilled red peppers, grilled mushrooms, fried egg, anchovies, pastrami, beer battered jalapenos, peanut butter, jelly, avocado mash, roasted corn and black beans, bacon infuesed gravy, portebello mushrooms, and spam. And if that isn't enough for you, the sauces are out of this world: 1000 Island Dressing, BBQ Sauce, Bacon Island Dressing, Baconnaise, Chipotle Adobo Mayo, Cilantro Lime Sour Cream, Garlic Aioli, Pumpkin Sauce, Slater’s Bacon Ketchup, Sriracha® Mayo, Tapatío® Ranch, and Teriyaki Glaze.

Second, I learned why its called Slaters 50/50. Their signature burger patty is 50% ground beef and 50% bacon. That's right. Half the patty. Bacon. As I was reading this on the menu, I had that moment that you see in cartoons all the time, where the angel appears on one shoulder and the devil appears on the other. The angel said to me, "That thing is going to close like eight of your arteries if you eat it." While the devil shouted, "Who is going to say no to a bacon patty? F those arteries. I got more." Can you guess which patty I ordered?

One bite into that thing made me question why anyone would eat a regular hamburger patty ever again. The juice coming of this thing sent my taste-buds into overdrive. I closed my eyes and savored every bite from that behemoth burger. The more I ate, the more I kept expecting to wake up from some naughty dream. Half way through, I had that moment where your eyes close, your toes curl, and your skin starts to tingle all over. And still had more to eat. This is what multiple orgasms must feel like. I have now found the one thing I envy about women.

After I was done, I new I was going to be in trouble, but every bite of that burger was worth anything that could happen. I left that place knowing I gained probably ten pounds, and I wasn't even upset about it. I sat on the couch for two hours in a food hangover, and had it lasted all day . . . still worth it. That could have been that last burger in my life, and I would have been content. I finally understood what James Cromwell meant at the end of Babe when he said "That'll do pig. That'll do." He was talking about that 50% bacon burger patty I just consumed.

I have been to the edge and back, my friends. I have tasted things that are so amazing that you never forget the first moment you tried them. I have even had food that was so good, you fealt like you had to tip the food itself. But never in all my years on this earth have I experienced something quite like Slaters 50/50.
And you know it's gotta be that good, because now I have to admit to Troy he was right . . . but that burger was totally worth it.