is easy. Really.
I’m not particularly fond of the social networking hoi polloi. Bah. But I must admit, the minute-by-minute status roll of how - ‘Master Doctor Jesus has performed a miracle!’, ‘Krishna, Allah, Jesus - All Gods are in control’, ‘my cute baby doll is the cheweetesttt’, and ‘my husband is the best thing that has ever happened in my life’ - don't amuse me as much as virtual lovebirds do.
Turns out, if someone is in love and the diagnosis eventually leads to a wedding of sorts, their profile picture is immediately upgraded to one with the better half...meaningfully conjoined at the head. It appears this gesture never goes unnoticed; it is followed with a string of comments about how fabulous they look together, and tens and hundreds of 'likes'. The smiling couple, usually in their twenties, thank everyone for appreciating their timely pseudo celebrity and follow up with more photos of their wedded bliss.
Then, there are those couples who have forgotten the last time they celebrated an anniversary; more commonly known as our parents, their parents and older relatives who you've added as friends (and carefully put on limited access) because you were supposed to. Strangely, none of them have profile photographs with anyone conjoined at the head, not even an arm around a tree for that matter. The only invites I get from this lot are invites to farmville, fishville and whatever-pointless-facebook-game-there-is-ville. Curiously enough, it seems, that invisible nerve that once conjoined their heads, doesn't anymore.
Interesting, now facebook allows you to track your journey from head sake to headache on something called Timeline.