Fear Factor (that's my daughter) on Face Book

Have you ever had one of those 'Eureka' moments (no that's not when an Italian lady complains about your body odour) when quite unexpectedly a mystery that has been confusing you for ages is finally solved?
For the past few months I have often had people bumping into me in town (I wish they'd make those bottle store aisles a bit wider) and stopping to ask
" How IS your daughter?"

Note the capitals? Not just a casual "How's your daughter?" , but more of an emphasis that seemed out of place:
"How IS your daughter?".

It's as if they are aiming some sympathy in her direction, which I find odd, because I'M the one who has to take her for driving lessons.

Knowing that Fear Factor (that's a nickname we have given her since she got behind the wheel for the first time) has had no recent heartbreaks, and is in reasonably good health (apart from what we can only assume was a brief mental condition last week… when she actually tidied her bedroom) this concern from people has been quite disconcerting and I have oft cornered her at home to double check that she is not missing a limb, tattooed her gums, or put a bone through the bridge of her nose.

But no matter how long I stare at her she seems just the same as the photograph of her I have in my wallet (I keep it there along forged boat ownership documents, in case I meet a prospective husband)

Fortunately this mystery was solved when we were traveling to the Mother City for her elder brother's birthday.

Let me explain.

My sister and brother-in-law were with us and we men sat in the front (so bro-in-law could navigate) whilst Mrs Ed and my sister sat on either side of Fear Factor in the back. Now the back seat does allow a reasonable amount of acreage for each passenger, but it certainly is somewhat lacking in the 'privacy' department, so when Fear Factor took out her laptop to 'update her Face Book status' there was nothing she could do to prevent her mother on one side and her aunt on the other from seeing what she was typing in.

Now for those of you who perhaps, like me, are not quite 'with it' when it comes to understanding what a Face Book status is, let me explain what I learned in that particular car trip. Apparently your 'status' is an announcement of how you are feeling, where you are, or what you are doing for that week… or day… or hour… or minute, depending on how often you update your Face Book profile.
For example one might put "Having a cosy cup of coffee with the girls" as a status, unless of course one has a jealous wife.

And whilst some might post a straight and simple status "At work", some get deep down and personal, no doubt forgetting that other people might be bored enough to read it. "Rubbing lard on the cat's boils and thinking of Tim. Wonder why he isn't calling?"

Now along with twenty seven million other young Face Book users, Fear Factor apparently feels an urgent need to 'update' her status approximately every twenty seven minutes. Because let's face it, if she didn't the whole world would deem her 'lame', or even worse, think she's got a job. Of course this frantic updating schedule presents a problem, because in today's world your status is the measure of your coolness, or lack thereof, so every effort has to be made to make it something with a 'Wow! That's soooo deep.' factor.

We had stopped for fuel on the outskirts of Cape Town when I heard Mrs Ed ask
"What do you mean by your new status 'Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me no more,' ?"
She was understandably alarmed, glancing furtively around the packed car incase an infant with a knife had crawled in and started viciously carving up her daughter's ankles.
"Oh. It's just words from that 'What is Love' song," explained Fear Factor, "I always use old song lyrics for my statuses."

I suppose I wouldn't have thought anything of this conversation, except perhaps whether she should have said 'Statusi' but just then my phone buzzed with a message from a customer whose daughter who had gone through school with Fear Factor.

"Oh my. How IS your daughter?" it read.

"Hang on," I said to Fear factor "What do you mean you always use song lyrics"
"It's cool," she pouted, "It shows I'm a deep thinker - and you should see all of the lovely, caring comments I get!" she said, scrolling down her page.
"Like just yesterday - all the UK cousins sent me a message to say whatever decision I make, they'll stand by me."
"That's because of your status was 'Sometimes I feel I've got to get away - I've got to run away from the pain you drive into loving me'" Mrs Ed pointed out, once again reading over her shoulder, "Isn't that 'Tainted Love' by Soft Cell?"

And so it all started to add up in my head. It wasn't just the sympathetic looks and comments I had been getting from her friends' parents, but what about that strange email from the youth camp leader last week asking whether we might be influencing our daughter with some 'negative habits' we'd perhaps brought down with us from Zimbabwe.
"What was your status at about 10am last Friday morning?" I asked - and she quickly checked through. "Oh nothing really... It was just a quote from a Jimi Hendrix song called Voodoo Child," she smiled.

"And Monday?" I queried, remembering the rather confusing appearance of three giggling young men at our gate, nudging and winking and asking if perhaps somebody in our family had something special cabbage to sell them.
"Oh I had a lot of status changes on Monday I remember it was my Bob Marley day" she said, which kind of explained it all.

Between them Mrs Ed and my sister read out a sampling of Fear factor's statuses, all song lyrics and each one more terrifying than before. One really doesn't want to hear that one's daughter has been seen online as 'Born to be Wild', 'Oh just a little bit dangerous' or even 'Lucy in the sky with diamonds'.

"I think I've got the perfect status for you," I interrupted, not able to take anymore.
"What's that," she answered, obviously keen for input from someone who had been around before the old songs got old.
"It's by a group called Train," I said and the lyrics are "Marry me, say you will" .