All in the family - urp!

Writers need to be careful with their words. I am finding this to be more and more true as the dizzying race to create the smallest, fastest and sleekest mobile devices threatens to put us all out of business.

While it's bad enough that everyday people can't use words correctly -- everything from saying "your" when one means "you're" to using "me" instead of "I" and vice-versa -- the blight has now hit my profession.

Apart from poor and wrong word choice and grammatical sins, writers aren't giving a smidge about cultural and social sensitivity. Oh, you think I'm wrong about this? How many of you have turned on your TVs only to be sold to "your family"? You pet your dog/cat and are stumped. 'Are they speaking to me? I use/spray/devour deoderant/pest repellant/licorice, too!'

Well, here in America apparently non-families are the silent huge minority. How huge?

According to Nov. 2013 census data from the US Government, a whopping 31.4 percent of adults (defined as ages 15-85+ years), had never been married. According to the same survey, another 10.2 percent had been divorced; 2.2 percent were separated; 5.7 percent widowed; and 1.4 percent were defined as married but with a "spouse absent" (not sure how that is different from "separated", but hey, I'm enjoying being single.)

The majority of adults, 49.1 percent, were defined as married with a spouse present. Forty-nine point one percent. Apparently, enough to drive an entire trend in advertising, one that appeals only to families and only marginally to singles. Gay families are being included, as they should, at quite a clip but where's the love for we singles?

Admittedly, including teenagers in your sample is going to skew the results, and it did. To be fair, Census data shows that in my age group and others in the 40s-to-50s, the number jumps to over 60 percent. Yet, statistics still show that the number of divorces is significant, and in my age group, even higher than the number of never-marrieds.

Why is advertising discriminating against us, then?


It's almost as if Bridget Jones made the advertising community wary of anyone who could or would choose to enjoy the single life. Women especially are seen as less than. I remember while other little girls were dreaming about their weddings, I was dreaming about my children. When I was unable to have them, I certainly didn't care about a wedding anymore. I started dreaming about my career, the next trip to Europe, my cat Wally and yes, some exotic man on a barstool in France.

I think what is wrong with America is our feigned puritanical streak. Remember Hollande's visit? The big story on CNN and other news outlets was how to seat the man, singly, at this big fancy dinner. Honestly, do you think Michelle and Barack Obama cared one whig? I think Michelle even dug the chance to keep the spotlight solely on herself (and she did look fab in that Carolina Herrera gown, I must say.)

I'm not against families; I'm not against marriage or suburbia or middle-aged paunches. I'm against SUVs for environmental reasons, but that's another story....

So dear Advertisers of America (and I'm speaking to you, Sprint, with your "Framily" plan - and by the way, it took me a minute to figure out that wasn't just a misspelling), throw we singles a bone. We buy and decorate homes, throw lavish and not so lavish parties, eat chicken wings, put up Christmas lights and yes, suffer from indigestion and hemorrhoids just like the rest of you.

Happy 10th birthday, Facebook (I think)

Looking back at 2008, when I joined Facebook, I remember the following: I was on my way to Prague and Paris, holed up in a hotel the night before my flight. I'd heard Michael Phelps mention something called his Facebook account during an interview from the Olympics.

'Facebook?' what's that? Anything Phelps did, from eating Subway sandwiches to hugging his mother to swimming the butterfly resonated with me. No matter that I was a grown woman, the axiom: If Michael Phelps jumped off a bridge, would you? completely applied to me.

So I got a Facebook account.

And with it, two friends.

Then three.

I don't remember who my first FB friends were (sorry) but within the first couple years, I was friends with about five ex-boyfriends I'd dredged up from all points east, west and overseas. I'd found cousins - first, second, third, and I don't know are we related? - and grouped them as "family". I even friended and then unfriended at least three family members, because I was starting to find that Facebook. like the Thanksgiving dinner table, was just that emotional.

I "liked" Michael Phelps. My first like. I loved getting all his pictures and updates from vacations with buddies, following his romances and endorsements and swims.

But soon, within just a few months, I wanted to scream: "Darn you, Michael Phelps!"

I was receiving invitations from people I didn't even remember from high school, from cousins I never liked, from boyfriends who left me bawling in bathrooms like on a bad episode of "Girls". I was spending at least half an hour a day checking my page, then updating my page, then updating my profile photo.

Within the first couple years, I went from one half hour a day to probably two hours a day. Facebook eclipsed my TV watching, or I'd watch, say, "Modern Family" but have one eye trained on the laptop.

Facebook.

The relationship wasn't quite so dysfunctional with Twitter, even though I'd heard many people checked their Twitter crawl first thing in the morning.

Not me. I was all about tracking down that guy whom I dated after my sophomore year in high school, and when I found him, thought of him while at grown-up interviews in the real world, at home as I posed for my new profile photos, as I giggled with girlfriends on line. (Can you giggle on line?)

He and I mutually decided to end the Facebook friendship -- he was taken, after all -- and this hurt me all over again. Not as much as at 15 when it had happened for real, but it still picked at the wound. "You always seem to come back into my life when I'm heading in the wrong direction," C. wrote from his hovel in Hawaii.

Thanks.

What the bleep did that mean?

Facebook.

I liked dozens of things, then unliked them when I realized the cool kids didn't like much. My first love only liked two things, so I'd be like him. When I found that his ex had a profile shot on the ski slopes, I thought I'd do the same. Yes, I loved skiing, but this really sealed it for me.

I was starting to crack, so much so that by 2013 I had something like 5,000 photos uploaded. I had over 200 friends, a "normal" amount, and I actually knew about a tenth of them.

It became foggy whom I had met in the real world versus who was an actual friend.

This is when I decided to take a step back from Facebook. I started logging on every other day - at least for a week. I was proud of this, in the way I was proud when I eased off smoking.

Now, I don't want to quit Facebook -- how else would I keep track of my mom in Texas? -- but I don't want it to run my life.

I also fantasize about the day when I'll travel the world meeting all my Facebook friends in person. When I was in LA, I wanted to spend time with one of those friends, but didn't realize we weren't really that close in real life. That friendship soon ended. Part of me says if we can't be real friends, why are we on Facebook together?

That would bring my total "friends" list to about 15, though, and no one wants to see that.

Happy 10th Birthday, Facebook.

I think.