Social networking, dexterity, and porch-sitting!

Over the course of the last year, primarily due to boredom and lack of adult conversation, I have begun to dabble in the art of social networking. I thought perhaps it my be nice to reconnect with old college chums, long-distance relatives, and the like. For this platform I chose the ubiquitous Facebook. So far I have enjoyed but, it never ceases to amaze me the number of friends people seem to have on this site. I have seen a few that have several hundred. How in the hell? Kevin Bacon doesn’t even have such extensive connections! I couldn’t manage to remember the names of that many people on a consistent basis, less alone take the time to remark on the cuteness their children, or take note of their Jungle Wolf Personality test results. I am thinking that people with more than 100 friends aren’t monitoring a lot of personal details. Perhaps I am eating sour grapes here (never have been the popular type), but really I think my poor blackberry would crash under the weight of all those status updates!
Also, I have recently been made aware of the “sexting” phenomena, via several ominous news broadcasts ("Do you know what your children are doing with their Iphone" type stuff). I have texted some, but I find it difficult to imagine the tiny keyboarding skills that would be necessary to achieve any sort of resolution. Not to mention those who don’t have a qwerty keyboard. With those sorts of targeted speeds, one should devote their talent to the war effort. Snipers be damned!
The dog hasn’t eaten any substantial piece of property in a while, but he still sends longing glances in the direction of my footwear. Keeping this in mind, I generally hide my own shoes. At times this becomes irritating. I have to search for different shoes if I haven’t worn them for a bit. Occasionally I shove them under the couch, so I often have to take a peak down there. The dog takes this opportunity to paw my skull. Apparently, he thinks I have notions regarding his hidden rawhide. Two days ago, I couldn’t find one flip-flop. Apparently the dog had retrieved one from beneath my bed, not to eat it, but to merely to relocate it under the love seat. It took me two freaking days to find that shoe. Speaking of the dog, I wonder if anyone else out there has an unfixed (presumably still broken) large breed dog. Now Samson is a large nine month old puppy who obviously enjoys sitting on the porch. It’s gotten so bad at times that we are forced to put the poor dog inside, lest he shame some of our less gifted neighbors.