Facebooking and Creepers

I did another massive Facebook overhaul today. The rainy weather helps me organize, I think! It's not easy to delete people now, which makes trimming down another 62 names blastedly difficult. Reloading pages instead of just clicking a button beside each name. So I will probably have a little more clean-up work to do until my FB account accurately represents my actual life and social network, but at least it's a step in the right direction. If you didn't make the cut, it was because we never talk. Nothing personal. Unless we are current, real life friends or family or your status updates make me think, I clicked the delete button. Still have fond memories of most everyone I deleted, though.

I'm not thrilled with the fact that Facebook will make the timeline feature mandatory in the coming weeks. I am very stick-in-the-mud when it comes to my technology. I like simple, bare-bones things and not a lot of change because it usually means that more of my privacy is going out the window. If I didn't use FB so much for local news, information and services, I'd cancel my account and just keep up with friends and family via Skype calls, letters and email. But...it IS convenient, so I'm compromising by really limiting my account and friend groups to people that I actually interact with in some form or another.

I may also be changing my cellphone number in the coming weeks, as I've gotten calls for my landlord's wife on my cell, which is odd. Especially since it sounded like collections. That can't be a coincidence. How hard is it to make up a number? Why in the world would you give out your renters' number? Grr. I liked these digits. When I called my hubby to complain:
"I don't want to have to change my number! Everyone has my number!" he pointed out that was precisely the problem.

"I thought that was what you were complaining about a few months ago...that everyone knows it."

Good point. Not too long ago I was being inundated by strange phone calls from old acquaintances, mostly from people wanting handouts, jobs, and one call from a creeper ex, just checking to see if I was still single (!). So it would be kind of nice to start afresh, especially seeing as I don't need all my fingers to count the number of people I actually talk with on a regular basis.

Speaking of creepers, a fellow blogger had recently commented on how being pregnant seemed to make her a target for come-ons. It happened to me at the beach yesterday. Weirdo, who may or may not have been drunk at 10 am, comes up and starts talking to me as we sit in the sun. Let me tell you gents, if a woman cannot tell if you are threatening her or hitting on her, you've got your tactics all messed up. Also, pregnant married women who are at least a dozen years your senior aren't flattered when you are more than vaguely reminiscent of Rio's street punks. (Lots of self-esteem, zero reason for it!) When he didn't take the hint to get lost, I told him in no uncertain terms that I'd cause a commotion if he didn't leave. He didn't...and let me tell you, yelling at someone on the beach is a surefire way to get LOTS of attention. Creeper sulked off and eventually disappeared...but it kind of ruined my appreciation for the gorgeous taffy clouds that were wrapping around the mountain as the sun slowly retreated. I was too busy making sure he wasn't a nutter, coming back with his cachaça bottle to brain us!