tweet, friend, trend.

I spent the night (attempting) to teach my mom about/ how to use Twitter. The best part of this is that I found out she has 7 Twitter accounts. She kept starting new ones because she couldn’t remember her user name/ password and didn’t understand how to use it. Hilarious. The worst part about this is that, well, now she has a Twitter and a vague idea how to use it, meaning I (and others) will get several emails and texts, thinking they were tweets.

Those of you who may be thinking I’m being too hard on dear old mom obviously aren’t Facebook friends with her. My mom thinks her newsfeed is her wall and is always confused. She will respond to or comment on statuses that were written months ago and write completely inappropriate things on your wall. There is a “message” option for a reason, mother.

On one particular occasion, Mike sent me flowers at school just because he’s cute. I wrote a thank you note on his wall and she commented: “Did Mizzou win?” on the post. When no one responded to her, she commented again, “Yes mother, they did!” (What do flowers have to do with the Mizzou game?)

You might be thinking, “come on, that’s not too bad.” But you’d be wrong if you thought I was done. She then made her status “he should have gotten me those flowers for being such a cool mom” because she thought she was writing on my wall. (Also, she isn’t his mom, so why would he get her “cool mom” flowers?)

Another great mishap happened one night of parent’s weekend at Mizzou. After a football game, we headed to a local bar with some friends. There, I put on my mother’s engagement ring (just to show her how it fits me perfectly and it should have my name on it in her will)—(am I a terrible person?). Anyway, while showing it off to my friends, one took a picture and it ended up on Facebook with the caption “Meara’s engaged” underneath it. (Clearly a joke, because I am not, in fact, engaged) My mom was able to see the photo because she is “friends” with both my friend who posted the picture and myself.

A few days later, I got a message from one of my aunts (who I am NOT Facebook friends with or really close to in general,) asking where the “funny engagement picture” was. Apparently, my mom had written to our family (those of whom she is “friends” with), not to be alarmed by the engagement ring picture, because I was not engaged and just trying on her ring for fun.

WHAT!?

When I confronted my mom, she couldn’t understand why I was weirded out. She was also confused on how my extended family couldn’t see my pictures, because she could. After a good half-hour explanation on how neither my friend nor I were “friends” with my family members, thus them not being able to see our pictures, she was still baffled.

This isn’t a one-time occasion, it actually happens all the time. My friends think it’s great and hysterical, but it’s not. I promise.

My sister and I have discussed starting a website entitled “Parents Make the Worst Friends”. It will be similar to “When Parents Text”, but related to Facebook. None of the real nuts or bolts has been worked out, but I think it would really be successful. We can’t be the only children who have Facebook-abusing parents, right?

We should patent it right away. Our only hope is that it continues to happen and she never learns the correct way to use Facebook. Maybe it will extend to Twitter and we could have two websites on our hands. Could be the million-dollar ticket. Thanks mom!

now&then

I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people.

I'll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone's laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little bit harder (and a millisecond earlier) to prove that I'm still the only one who really, really gets it.

Also, I usually have to say all lines, right before the characters do, just to let everyone know how much I like this movie and that I know what’s going to happen next.

Here’s the kicker. Ask my roommate- she HATES this. I REPEAT the funny parts of a line in a favorite movie or TV show I’ve seen before, just to make sure that the other people in the room, heard it and got the full funny effect.

If anyone else were to do this while I was trying to enjoy a flick, I’m pretty sure I’d punch them in the face because I hate it more than I hate mustard (you have no idea). Needless to say, I’m trying to kick the habit, but it hasn’t come as easily as I would have hoped.

I’m not sure if I’m crazy or just really want the other person to understand the genius of whatever we are watching, but either way, I usually watch movies alone.

second drawer, bedside table.

I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.


This is serious business. A best friend should know all of your secret hiding places in order to destroy any evidence of your “wild times”. Everyone has skeletons in their closet and my worst nightmare is dying and having to have my mom go through my personal belongings and finding pictures of underage drinking or my high school journal. (so embarrassing)

Honestly, I wasn’t a bad kid, but there is a reason you don’t want your parents to go through your stuff. Its not because you want them to “respect your personal space” or “trust you”. You’re obviously hiding something or someone in your closet.

In addition to this plan, I believe whoever knows my secret hiding places should also be trusted with the password to my Facebook and or email, etc. If I die before Facebook is old news and in danger of becoming what my_space seems to be, or something new comes along and sucks me in, I want my account to be deleted immediately, before anyone who I wasn’t friends with, didn’t like, or didn’t really know me, is able to write “sorry I was such a slut in high school, wish we coulda been betta friends, RIP gurl” on my wall. The thought alone makes me cringe.

Just my two cents, I guess. I’ve told some people of this Facebook plan, but they disagree with me. They make the valid point that writing on someone’s wall could be some kind of therapeutic way of saying goodbye, moving on, etc. I understand, but it’s just not my thing and I think anyone who knew me while I was alive would know I wouldn’t want it after I was gone. Hopefully people won’t make it their statuses either. Also something I’m not in to.

Anyone else have a plan like this?

oh... you're right.

Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

If you know me at all, you know I’m a weirdo. I like random, unusual facts that I can spew out at a moments notice during conversation. (I even follow OMGFacts on Twitter) Interestingly enough, I remember most things I read and the fact that I can talk about pretty much anything and throw a random fact in makes me happy. Because of this strange skill, many people come to me with bizarre questions and problems, wondering if I know anything that could help lead them to an answer. Usually, I’m pretty on point, if I do say so myself. The issue is this, when I don’t know the answer, sometimes I MAKE IT UP!

Why? I have no idea. I don’t even plan it. It just comes out of my mouth like word vomit. Sometimes I even throw in some fake statistics to make it sound real. If a friend calls my bluff we usually argue about it and how I claim to have “read it somewhere”. The worst part of any moment like this is when they realize I’m wrong about something and they PROVE IT. It is a total ego killer.

I hate being wrong and I will fight to the death about anything I actually believe to be true, but WHY do I feel the need to try to make a case for my side when even I know its wrong?

You know what I hate even more then being wrong? When other people REFUSE to let me be right! It makes me want to pull my hair out. Everyone likes to be right, but now and again, you have to admit defeat.

Sometimes you’re wrong and you have to deal with it. Does anyone know how to do it effectively? Sometimes I mope about it, but that is so gross and petty.

I need professional help.

i said look ma, no hands.

Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

This is a real problem. This past summer, I had the privilege of living in London and interning for a PR company called Sequel UK. Sequel held all the licensing for GUESS and Gc watches and jewelry. I came to very much appreciate the detail of watches in all their glory. I was lucky enough to receive a beautifully simple, gold, boyfriend style watch as a sort of payment for my work there during the summer months. I love my watch. It is chic and classic and goes with pretty much everything. I can dress it up with bracelets and a cocktail ring for a night on the town or keep is casual with jeans and a cardigan during the day. Either way, it is almost always on my wrist.

Seeing my admiration for this accessory, Mike got me a beautiful chunky, silver version for Christmas this year (I haven’t been able to wear it as much as I would like because it still hasn’t been sized for my 5 year old baby wrists).

Anyway, my point is not only that a watch is a cool addition to any outfit, but they should also be used for their purpose, which is to TELL TIME!

I’ve read a few articles about this subject and the percentages vary, but some say that up to 30% of young adults ages 13-25 can’t read an analog clock (the kind with two hands). This is pretty crazy, if you ask me.

I don’t belong to this percentage, seeing as how I do, in fact, know how to read a clock, but sometimes I will look down at it the exact moment someone else asks me what time it is, and I will say, “I don’t know”. I try to laugh it off, but THEN, this anxiety comes over me and I feel so much pressure to figure out what time it is and sometimes I end up giving up and saying a random time. Does anyone else do that? I think it is totally weird, but I feel like the person is staring me down, waiting for me to respond with a real answer and thinking: this girl is so dumb, she can’t even tell time. I do, I do, I swear!

That’s it, really. Just wanted those of you who I accidentally (on purpose) told the incorrect time, that I actually know how to read a clock, but you scared me and I couldn’t perform under the pressure.