Long overdue for a reprieve from the purgatory that is small-town New Jersey, I spent the past weekend in the DC metro area with some of the people I love the most.

Being back on the East Coast certainly has its benefits - namely, being able to make an easy 4-hour drive to DC (as opposed to having to take a much more costly plane ride).  I invited my friend and brother Quincy to ride down with me from New Jersey since his parents live in NoVa.  Turns out he had a photo shoot to do in DC over the weekend and he was due for a visit.  Sweet.

Quincy met me at the New Brunswick train station.  I was hoping he’d be able to avoid a train transfer in Newark, but no dice - he still had to transfer train lines.  Now I realize I should have asked him to meet me at a station closer to my house to simplify my end of the trip since it would have taken him the same number of transfers and time.

It was great to have his company on the way down.  We talked about music, Cartoon-gate (the NY Post editorial cartoon melodrama), and about how he would convince his parents that no, he’s not really sick - “it’s just allergies.”  (But Q. was really, really sick.  Poor thing.  Shh, don’t tell him I told.)

Once on the road, I realized that I had forgotten two very important things:  (more…)

Am I missing something here?  Here’s the deal:

I sent an old friend a book and magazine for an industry in which she’s starting a career.  I wrapped it in sparkly black gift-wrap, wrote a quick note - on my own set of personalized note cards, of course - and sent it just before Christmas, although it wasn’t necessarily a Christmas present.  (I’d actually had it for about a month before I got around to sending it.)

I shipped the gift via FedEx so I could track the package and make sure she received it.  Delivery was attempted, but she wasn’t at home to sign for it, so the driver didn’t leave the package at her door.  (I sent it signature-required.)  I shot her an email that evening that said “hey, I sent you something - you have to sign for it.” The next day, I believe, FedEx successfully delivered the package.

I haven’t heard anything from this friend since, and I’m left wondering what happened.  Did she receive my gift?  Did she like it?  Can she use it?  (more…)

Isn’t that comforting to know?  Kind of gives you that warm fuzzy feeling inside, yes?

A woman wrote into The Consumerist, reporting that Facebook has denied her request to have her deceased brother’s Facebook account closed down.  The sister sent Facebook a copy of her brother’s death certificate, but Facebook refused, citing it was against their policy to close down deceased members’ accounts.

Facebook’s reply?  (more…)

So everyone’s talking about Nadya Suleman, the mother of the octuplets born in California.  I had absolutely no plans to mention this on Social Tools. It’s not the kind of topic we’d normally cover here, but this topic came up at the dinner party I attended on Saturday night and the conversation got fairly heated.

(I also just finished reading a piece by Bonnie Fuller called, “Help! Someone Save the Octuplets from Their Mom.”  Read it. It’s good.  It’s what reminded me of the dinner party conversation and spurred me to write this.)

One member of the party - a woman, a doctor - thought it was morally reprehensible for the fertility doctor to implant all of those embryos in a woman who already had six children at home. I happened to agree because of the living situation of the pre-existing family: 6 children and 3 adults living in a 3 bedroom house.  (more…)

I miss my friends.  Terribly.

My two closest friends - Will and D - live elsewhere.  Actually, I guess I’m the one who really lives elsewhere.  I’m the one who’s moved.  Twice.

Will, whom I’ve known longer, is still in Virginia.  He’s a friend and brother all rolled up into one.  We’ve been friends for 7 years now and seen each other at our best and worst.  (I’m not just tossing out a tired cliché here.  Take this literally.)  And we’re so similar that sometimes it’s like talking to a male version of myself.

Will actually lived right across the hall from me in our dorm building, Dominion Hall, for about 4 months before we even spoke to each other.  I’d see him at the elevator, or see him walking to or from our building, but we never really spoke.  Perhaps a quick “hello” or nod of acknowledgment as we passed each other, but that was about it.  (more…)