Things Facebook Has Suggested to Me Offline

I. I was filling out standard medical forms in the doctor's office when I heard Facebook's voice over my shoulder.

“Do you need some help with that?” it asked. “I couldn't help but notice you got your own blood type wrong.”

I'll say this about Facebook — it may have poor grammar, but its memory is impeccable. The first day of my last period — how could I have forgotten that it was a Thursday?

“While I work, why don't you help yourself to some of the candy in that serving dish?” Facebook asked. “There are lots of Reese's; I hear those are your favorite.”

II. “Hey, look!” Facebook said on the train, pointing at a glossy newsmagazine in another passenger's hands. “A middle-aged white person wrote an article about hipsters, and some people are mad about it.”

III. I invited Facebook to shabbat dinner with my cousin, aunt, and uncle. Facebook was polite at first, taking in the surroundings, though it was weirdly insistent that we try acaí.

“Hey, do you know Brian Metzger?” Facebook asked.

“Can't say that I do,” I responded.

“How about Honi Weiss?” it countered.

I shook my head. “Just because I'm Jewish doesn't mean I know every Jewish person.”

“Rachel Moscovitzberg? Mordechai Kahansteinbaum?” it persisted.

“Are you just making shit up?" I asked, but it ignored me.

“Do you know Selma Blair?” it asked. “Or Matisyahu? Do you hang out with Monica Lewinsky?” My aunt and uncle looked confused and concerned; they murmured inscrutable things to each other, glancing critically in Facebook's direction. My cousin buttered her raisin challah scornfully. I tried to stem the tide of questions, but Facebook was too quick for me.

“DO YOU KNOW SOON-YI PREVIN?!?!?” Facebook screamed over the din.

IV. I was showering when Facebook appeared in my bathroom doorway, smirking.

“Facebook, how did you get in here?” I asked.

“YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHO JUST HAD A BABY,” it gushed. I stood frozen for a moment, letting the horror wash over me like so much shower water. After a short pause, I reached for the soap.

“Oh, three of your best friends like that soap!” Facebook cooed. “It's great for dry skin, like yours gets in the winter. You look so pretty without makeup,” it said with unwelcome affection.

“How can you be so sad when your stoner high school classmate is procreating?" Facebook said. "Do you wish YOU were pregnant with a baby-related status message?”

I didn't know what to do, so I started to cry.

Previously: On Trend: Fetuses.

Arianna Stern's head is still stuck in the banister.