Facebook is a funny thing. Greg Hall (yes, that Funky Werepig we all know and love) posted this morning that he has 500 friends, and intended to celebrate by buying them all breakfast. Kelli and I were sitting on the green couch in the garage at the time, dutifully hammering away at our keyboards. We know Greg, and we know he lives like ten minutes from the Porch O’Awesomeness (which has, since the blizzard, graduated into the Garage O’Awesomeness), and we were hungry, so we told him so.
Just like that, we had a werepig in the garage bearing sausage croissants and tater tots. It was cold and cloudy and rainy outside those doors and neither Kelli nor I had woken up this morning feeling any kind of spectacular, but we laughed in this garage like none of us had laughed since…oh…Mo*Con, anyway. There were Tweets and acronyms and interpretive dance and protective boyfriends and princes on mountaintops and death threats against evil banks…and the kids were home and Greg was walking back to his car all too soon.
What started out as a crummy day ended up as a really, really good day, and we have a chivalrous werepig to thank for it.
And, I suppose, Facebook.
Darn social networking sites making people all…social. What’s up with that?