Benny Jay: Thunder Thighs

In my unrelenting ambition to become the world’s richest man by writing a blog – that’s the plan, anyway — I join Facebook.

My good friend, Monroe, who knows everything about blogging, made me do it. He gave me this whole lecture about the new media train leaving the station. He said unless I want to spend the rest of my life on the sidelines watching it go by I had to jump aboard right now. And even then I’d only be on the caboose….

My older daughter helps me set up the account. We stay up late on the night before she goes back to college. Hooks me up with friends – mostly people I never even heard of – and gets  me to list my favorite music, books and movies.

Then she says I have to put up some pictures.

“You’re kidding,” I say.

“No….”

“Why?”

“Cause, dad, people need to see your face. That’s why they call it Facebook….”

So we post some photos of a recent family vacation.

“Oh, you gotta pick this one,” says my daughter.

It shows my wife and me standing on a lovely beach in northern Michigan. It’s got the tawny-colored sand, gorgeous blue sky, grassy-green dunes and sparkling sun-drenched waves of the lake.

“It just makes you want to be there,” she says.

“Yeah — mom’s gonna love it….”

Fast-forward eight hours. My daughter and her friends have taken off for college and I’m at the computer fiddling around with – what else – Facebook.

“You gotta see my Facebook thing,” I tell my wife.

“Does it have pictures?” she asks.

“Hell, yeah it has pictures,” I say, happy that I finally found someone who knows less about Facebook than I do. “You have to have pictures. Hence the name, Facebook – duh.”

I show her my pictures: The kids on the porch, the dog under the bed, me running through the woods, the two of us, arm in arm, on the beach….

“Ahhh!” she shrieks.

“What?”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything – and I won’t do it again….”

“Take it down…

“Take what down?”

“The picture….”

“What picture?”

“What do you mean, `what picture?’ That picture!”

I look at the picture. I see the sun, the sky, the sand, the dunes, the water. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m wearing a bathing suit.”

“Well, yeah — you’re on a beach….”

“My thighs are showing,” she says.

I look again. I don’t know what to say.

“You’re not flashing my thighs to millions of people on the Internet….”

“Millions of people? I only got like ten Facebook friends….”

“Take down that picture of my thighs….”

“Okay — your thighs are just a very small part of the total picture….”

“They’re thunder thighs….”

“Thunder thighs – what the fu?”

“Take them down now!”

“Okay, okay.” I’m starting to panic cause — I don’t know how to take a picture down.

“They’re still up,” she says.

“Hold on – I’m not sure how to do it….”

“Oh, you don’t know how to take it down, but you know how to put it up….”

“Hannah did that….”

“Call Hannah….”

“I tried — she’s not picking up….”

“Call Monroe!”

“I can’t call Monroe — it’s Sunday morning….”

“Hurry up!”

She’s hovering over my head, her breath on my neck. I scan the screen looking for options. Miraculously, I see a delete-picture prompt.

“There – all gone,” I say. “Happy?”

“I can’t believe you put that up there….”

“How `bout a little credit for figuring out how to take it down….”

“Obviously, you know nothing about women….”

Well, isn’t that the understatement of the century?

“For the record,” I say. “I like that picture….”

“Yeah, well, don’t put up any more pictures until you run them by me….”

Can you believe the stuff I have to put up with?  I used to feel sorry for those Goggle guys who have to deal with China’s Internet censors. But compared to my wife, the censors in China are a piece of cake….

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