Tag Archives: Facebook

Oh yes, another article about how to give your kids the best summer ever

Here’s a fun story. The other day I was scrolling through Facebook when I happened upon an article with one of those irresistible yet general headlines that made it seem like it was ALL ABOUT ME. Naturally I had to click on it. And it did not disappoint. The whole thing was devoted to how much better childhood summers were in the 70’s and 80’s. You know, when roving bands of neighborhood children tortured fireflies in glass prisons and we only came home when we finally got thirsty enough to actually choke down some Tang without gagging.

Yes! I thought to myself. I remember riding my bike all day around my grandma’s neighborhood, unsupervised and helmetless! My cousins and I explored the woods behind my aunt’s house all summer long! We didn’t even know what shoes were! Or sunscreen! Or basic hygiene!

We didn’t have parents hovering over us every second! In fact, we were expected to work things out amongst ourselves! Which is why we had so many “Lord of the Flies” level fights (and why my right thumb doesn’t work correctly and how my childhood friend Cyclops Pete earned his nickname).

Our childhood was magical! And look, we all turned out FINE! Cyclops Pete even owns his own car dealership! (Slogan: I’ve Got An Eye For Bargains!). Parents today. Pffft. So glad I read this to remind me not to turn into ONE OF THEM. My kid’s going to know freedom. Believe you me.

Smug and satisfied with myself that I was superior to pretty much everyone else (which is the only reason to be on Facebook in the first place), I continued scrolling where I happened upon a video that had one of those headlines that assured you that everything you were doing as a parent was wrong and your kid had probably died while you scanned this headline so you may as well watch this video because I mean, what else do you have to do, your kid is dead because you’re such a crappy parent, remember? It showed a man with a puppy luring children away from their parents on a playground, even though the parents had taught their children repeatedly about STRANGER DANGER. But the kids went off with the man ANYWAY. Because their unfit, neglectful parents let them play a whole FIVE feet away from them.

Oh god! I thought to myself. I’m never letting my child out of my sight! Ever! Wait, where is he? Holy crap! Where is he!?! Riker!?! RIKER!?!? Oh god, the man with the puppy got him! Must have gotten into the house somehow! I never should have opened the windows! It’s only 85 degrees! And I traded my precious baby’s life for a slight breeze. HOW COULD I HAVE LET THIS HAP…oh, there you are. Have you been in my lap this whole time?

Now, here’s the fun part. Both these things were posted by the same person. Within an hour of each other. A friend of a friend of an acquaintance of a random lady I once met for five seconds in 2006.

And that is modern parenting, y’all.

We now live in a world where people will monologue about how horrible this generation’s helicopter parenting is while simultaneously dialing Child Protective Services to report the 11-year-old playing in the park by himself. These are the same people who talk about how back in their day, they didn’t make their kids their whole world. They loved them, sure. But they knew how to still have fun. They knew how to let loose. They would send the kiddies up to bed and then throw wild parties. Meanwhile, they give me the stink eye for ordering a cocktail at brunch while my toddler sits in the highchair beside me (which is ridiculous since brunch without a cocktail is just lunch with eggs).

And granted, it’s only natural. People have been judging parenting styles ever since time began:

“Doth thou think we are letting little Johnny drink too much ale, my lord?”

“Aye, no, my lady. He’ll be fine. Look at my grandfather. He drank five gallons of ale a day as a child and he died at the ripe old age of 24 with three whole teeth in his mouth.”

“Ah, so true, my lord. And it’s not like we let him play with a ball of rags all day like the Pempletons. How on earth willst their children ever develop an imagination when they are constantly glued to that thing?”

The only difference now is that we all have multiple platforms to make our opinions known and shame parents publicly.

Which is why all of this has led me to conclude that there is, in fact, only one way to give your children the best possible summer:

Stay off the Internet.

Or, at least until September when we can once again freak out over articles about third-graders getting pregnant and a new trend where unvaccinated children lick your kid’s peanut butter sandwich just for kicks.

Geez…Happy Lamesgiving

Is it just me or has everyone gone nuts for Thanksgiving this year? No, I’m not talking about getting a jumpstart on the traditional holiday season bender a vast majority of us go on this time of year. Hell, most of us started that in August.

I’m talking about the abundance of thanks people are publicly listing on social networking sites such as Facebook, which started as early as November 1st.

Every. Single. Day. Posting what they’re thankful for: Their children. Their health. The fact that every time they bitch on Facebook it’s only for First World Problems.

Last time I checked, Thanksgiving was only one day. For only one day did I have to be thankful for crap. Which was then followed the next day by beating up people in Aisle 10 of Wal-Mart in order to get the last Tickle Me Binder Full of Women or whatever stupid, popular toy some manufacturer didn’t make enough of for all of us in the world who have the time and luxury to camp outside a store for a week.

I mean, I wouldn’t care, but it’s bad enough Christmas starts in March now. Does Thanksgiving really need to be a whole month-long?

And honestly, who really cares what you’re thankful for?

The answer? No one. So knock it off and keep it at the Thanksgiving dinner table, where it belongs.

OK, OK, enough complaining. I digress. Let’s move onto the topic of this blog.

Here’s a list of everything I’m thankful for this year:

“Jersey Shore” is finally ending.

Season Two of HBO’s “Girls” begins in January.

My dog Buffy has yet to succeed with his plans to take over the world.

Speaking of the world, I’m also glad we got a heads up that it is ending this December, which means I don’t have to go out and buy Christmas gifts for anyone. Suckers.

Hats that make babies look like bears.

That Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, YouTube, Instagram, Blogger and WordPress didn’t exist when I was a teenager, thus documenting all my stupid ducky-wip pictures and lame, melodramatic “poetry” for all eternity on the Internet.

Toilet paper (look, I know I say that every year, but seriously, think about it…think about life without toilet paper…yeah…exactly).

That I didn’t kill myself quite literally about an hour ago when I noticed the gas on our stove top was on and had been on for about four hours ever since I cleaned it this morning and accidentally turned the dial on. And that I didn’t go with my first gut reaction, which was to light the stove so that it would use up all the excess gas (I swear, I have two college degrees).

Hummus. Which I use to confuse with haggis. And which is why I never ate it. Until someone finally told me the difference (did I mention I have two college degrees?).

Saturday Night Live. And specifically, Bill Hader. Who I would like to do dirty, dirty things to while he does his Clint Eastwood impression.

That if I ever become homeless, I will own the most books of any homeless person ever. I don’t care how many Kmart carts I have to steal from their parking lot. They’re ALL coming with me to the creepy alleyway.

My husband. Without which, I would have to move every time there was a spider in the house.

My in-laws (yeah, I have awesome in-laws…how much do you hate me right now?).

My 2004 Hyundai, which is not only paid off but has a sassy chassis that keeps running like a dream (well, a dream with a broken muffler that makes it sound like a monster truck eating a fourwheeler).

I finally have a dining room table…like an ADULT.



Captain Morgan.



Pumpkin beer.



Christmas-themed beer.

Cherry Bounce (which is a family recipe involving vodka, cherries and I swear, body parts from a unicorn).

Beer in a bottle.

Also a can.

And occasionally out of a jar.

And FINE! I’ll give a legit one. GAWD. I’m thankful that even though I lost the title of mother this year, I was quickly reminded by some wonderful people that I still hold the title of beloved wife, daughter, sister, aunt, niece, cousin, in-law, friend and kindred spirit.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I’m really starting to hate you, Mark Zuckerberg

Well, it finally came. My 30th birthday was Monday (meaning when people now ask me my age, my go-to response henceforth will be “vintage”…and for them to “stop being so damn nosy”).

It ended up being a really good birthday. Well, except for the morning, which was spent trying to clean up a VERY BAD dog who thought a wonderful gift to his owner would be rolling around in some other dog’s fresh poo (consequently, he is now on canine probation).

But the afternoon was spent with my friend Patrick, where we had a shamelessly nerdy time drinking at coffeehouses, perusing used book stores and discussing “Battlestar Galactica” over beer (or to sum up for fans of “The Office”: Books. Beers. Battlestar Galactica.). And the evening was spent drinking wine with my husband and watching a penis-shrinking chick flick.

And then, as night rolled around, I spent the next three hours on my laptop, frantically trying to respond to the 900 million or so posts I received on Facebook.

See, it used to be that on your birthday, you’d get a couple of cards in the mail, a phone call from your mom and maybe a good friend, and, if you were lucky, perhaps a free shot or two at the bar from some random, who deduced it was your birthday after you climbed on the bar and yelled “It’s my birthday, bitches!!!”

But now, everyone knows it’s your birthday. Facebook announces right there on your profile whose birthday it is that day, basically passive-aggressively telling you “don’t be a schmuck…wish this kid a happy birthday, huh?”

On one hand, this is great. Nothing makes you feel quite as special on your special day as having 1,034 of your closest virtual friends wishing you a happy birthday. This is especially true when you’re spending your birthday in a new city where you’ve only made a handful of real-life friends so far, like me.

But my problem is that I don’t know what is proper Facebook birthday etiquette. Do I have to respond to each post individually? Or can I just make a blanket “thanks, everyone” post? And if so, how many exclamation points after “everyone” do I use?

But if I do that and someone wrote something really funny, like, “in honor of your birthday, I’m going to bong a Natty Light”, is it ok to “Like” that post, or do I have to like all the posts then?

And what about the posts that go beyond the standard “happy birthday” message and include a follow up message? Or even a question, like “Happy birthday! Crows feet really suck, huh?” Is it rude not to write back?

Is a free e-card on the same level as an electronic gift card to Starbucks? And where do someecards fit in? What about the guy who made a hilarious JibJab video featuring me? Do I need to reciprocate? Not to mention, for everyone who wrote on my page, am I expected to write on their page for their birthday? What if I don’t know them? Or did know them at one point but totally forget who they are now? What about the ones that sent me an actual message, instead of a wall post? Does that deserve a response?


Where’s Emily Facebook Post when you need her?