Free Suburgatory by Linda Keenan Page B

caretakers, leaving them terrified and heartbroken. Toddler or Anchor?
    Answer: Anchor. Actually, the above isn’t completely true. The anchor did just disappear without warning, not showing up or calling in for days, weeks, never to return. But we weren’t terrified and heartbroken. In fact, we had a lot of fun in the newsroom during that time and some nice relaxing lunches.

    As I review my puzzler, I realize I better snuggle on down in this crazy suburb I now call home and get cozy, because I’ll probably never eat a nice lunch, or produce TV, in that town again. But that’s OK. I’m happy with the less-than-relaxing lunches I now have at, yes, Applebee’s, with my little ball of energy who tells me he loves me ten times a day. I never got that with an anchor. Frank can crap on me all he wants.

    Mom Crushed to Learn
that Facebook Isn’t Job
    Suburgatory, USA—A local stay-at-home mom who calls herself the “Facebook Queen” was crushed to find out, after nine months of avid social networking, that Facebook is not a job and she won’t be getting paid.
    Molly Brooks, thirty-eight, has become an instant legend among her 732 Facebook friends for seeking and accepting friend requests from people she doesn’t know, or barely knows.
    In a very short period of time, Brooks has made herself a fixture, by being the first on anyone’s Wall to offer birthday greetings and by invariably being the first person to “like” a status update. Her response time leaves her friends awestruck and a bit concerned.
    â€œSeriously, my update will be fourteen seconds old and she’s already lunging for it,” said Patrick Mulleavy, who knows Brooks through a one-time fraternity party hand job back in college. “It was great,” he said. The hand job? “No, no, my fraternity. I miss that life so much. Thank God for Facebook. Reconnecting with Molly brought me a little closer to those memories.”
    He considers Brooks’s Facebook prowess similar to her approach to a hand job. “A little too eager, a little forced, but total A for effort,” said Mulleavy. “She was a really nice girl in college, and from what little I can tell from Facebook, she’s turned into a really nice lady and mom. With maybe not a whole lot going on in her life.”
    Other friends worry that her Facebook vigilance means she is neglecting her family responsibilities. “How does she keep up that totally insane pace with the liking and the commenting, the ‘Get better soon!’ and ‘How fun!’ and still watch her kid? He’s only two years old!” said Maura Tanner, a childhood friend.
    â€œMolly’s like a sister to me and I’ve known her in real life for decades, which is more than I can say for these other ‘friends’ she has. ‘Shahgan Vatan’? His Facebook page says he’s a Pakistani mariner. Did you hear that? A PAKISTANI MARINER,” said Tanner, disturbed that Diehl would be wasting her time with what she called “some rando across the world.”
    Tanner explains, “Molly met him in . . . the Jewish Maritime Historical Society page on Facebook. I mean, what the FUCK. I’m not sure what’s weirder—a Pakistani who joins the Jewish Maritime Historical Society or a stay-at-home who’s a) not Jewish, b) barely ever been on a boat, and c) gets history from, like, going to see The Help. Molly watches that one stupid movie and she thinks she marched on Washington arm in arm with MLK or something.”
    Brooks says she joined the Jewish Maritime Historical Society “because it looked cool and my friend Herb asked me and he just had a baby, Henry. Isn’t he soooo cute?” She thumbs her iPhone to find the pictures. Does Brooks feel, as some of her friends do, that she’s wasting her time and life on Facebook? “Well no, of course not. I do get paid, you know. Though Facebook is