Tag Archives: parents

Parents on Facebook: Friend or Don’t Friend?

A blogger I follow wrote about how she only recently added her parents on Facebook, despite living 4,000 miles away from them. I couldn’t believe it! But then I started thinking about it, and I wouldn’t want most people’s parents as my friends on Facebook or real life if they were my parents.

I guess I got lucky. My parents are cool, and many of my friends are also friends with them.

See, look how cool they are in action, making me dinner, placing it on the table in front of me, etc.

Sometimes I think maybe they’re not cool. Maybe it’s just that I’m so boring and dorky I have nothing questionable floating about in the Facebook sphere to cause concern, and that’s why I can’t see any problem being friends with them. Even if I did engage in nefarious activities, would I be broadcasting them on Facebook anyway? No.

I don’t like how everything has to be “cool.”  Why can’t we just live life, instead of having to say snotty stuff like, “Oh, I can’t be on Facebook now that my grandparents are on it.” I mean, if you don’t want to be on Facebook, fine. But it annoys me when people act like they’re too cool for school. Or grandmas.

Again, maybe this is because I was blessed with a cool grandma, but so what? Grandma watches South Park, says bad words, and plays evil tricks on me like when we went fishing and she tossed a worm in my ear and slapped a big wet fish on my bare back. She’s not on Facebook, but if she did join she’d be way cooler than the tool sheds who’d leave because of her.

Here’s the chart I saw on this gal’s blog. Still kinda funny!

I guess my point is, if your parents suck at life and you’d rather not be reminded of them, fine. Don’t add them. But if you’re not adding them out of some commitment to being cool, you’re not cool. Add them.



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I definitely take after my dad.

My mom sent me two pictures this morning that cemented the fact that I take after my dad.

My mom’s packed lunch:

My dad’s packed lunch:

I don’t get people. You’re at work at least 8 hours a day – in what world does that warrant only one meal?  I guess I’m jealous! Packing and carrying all that food is a burden, and I always have to be thinking about where my next meal is coming from because I get so hungry. Unfortunately I can’t find the picture I took of one of my packed lunches, but it doesn’t matter because you can just imagine something similar in size to my dad’s lunch.

I feel happy when I meet other people like me because they understand the hunger. The hunger is one reason why I don’t like to hang out with large groups of people. You could be stuck for hours with the hunger while you’re waiting on everyone in the group to get hungry enough to eat, and then you have to wait even longer for them to come to a group decision about where to eat. When Adrian’s friends had a camping trip for three full days a couple months ago that honestly was one reason why I didn’t want to go. The thought of having all my meals for three days planned around a group decision sounded simply awful. I knew thoughts of eating would consume me, and I’d be nervous the whole day about how long I was going to be waiting. If it were up to me I’d have just gone to get food whenever I pleased, but for some reason Adrian felt this would be rude.

Adrian doesn’t understand the hunger. He just says, “I get hungry too.” If he actually understood like he thinks he does, he wouldn’t skip breakfast every day and then have a pitiful little sandwich from Pret for lunch, and then not eat again until dinner time. Any time I eat a sandwich from Pret I’m hungry again in exactly an hour. Skipping breakfast? Not an option. As soon as I wake up I’m absolutely starving to the point where my stomach hurts. If I do decide to not eat at the house and get something at work, by the time I get there I have a headache from not eating all night, and I feel so sick I want to throw up (which I think is weird, because there’s nothing in there).

I would feel like a freak, but I’ve met a number of people like me so it must be kind of normal.

I’m certain I’ve written about this before, but I don’t know where that post is and I don’t really care. Some topics are important enough that they need discussing again. And this is my blog and I can do what I want *snap* *snap*!


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