Dear Mom Get Off Facebook

Listen, Mom,

You and I need to talk about something. No, it’s not about the fact that I tend to reserve Sundays as the only days to answer your calls, yet expect you to pick up whenever I phone you in the middle of a crisis (it’s super fucking rude when you don’t answer, by the way). It’s not about the fact I think you might love the dog more than the rest of your children. It’s not even about your current midlife crisis highlights, which would be really cute on someone in their 30’s, which brings me to my next point: YOU CAN’T TURN 38 TEN YEARS IN A ROW.

Moving on.

We need to talk about your social media usage. I get it, Mom, you’re from the generation that watched all this technology develop, but never quite understood how to use it. You were in college, earning your MRS degree with Farrah Fawcett feathered hair, when computers were introduced to the masses. You were busy bossing the nanny around when I was just a baby while the internet was being widely discussed on The Today Show, and Katie Couric was so fucking confused about it that the rest of the world wasn’t sure if Al Gore had blessed us with technology or sorcery.

I know you think it’s cool you’ve (sort of) mastered the art of texting, and I get that you’re really proud you were able to scan all of the pictures from my childhood onto the computer, but there is one activity I can no longer condone in any way, shape, or form when it comes to your web presence: your use of Facebook.

Mom, I understand it must be cool to be able to catch up with your besties via social media, because trust me, as a post–grad, I love Facebook for that very reason. However, the following activities are beyond heinous, and need to be stopped immediately before I unfriend you, and this time it will be for good:

1. You need to stop “sharing” everything. You can see something on Facebook without sharing it to all of your friends, such as the pictures of me and my friends from the previous weekend. I understand you want to show everyone how well your oldest (and obviously favorite) daughter is doing, but I don’t need everyone to see me at the bar with a Ketel and soda in hand. Come on, girl.

2. If you need to ask me a question, just call me. You can’t comment “who is this boy???????” on every picture I post. He’s my fucking coworker, woman. Calm down. This is how rumors get started.

3. You need to learn how to type. Chill out with the caps lock. It makes your web presence seem annoying and aggressive.

4. In case you haven’t noticed, YOUR NAME precedes EVERYTHING you post. Literally, everything. As in, when your Facebook status pops up on my newsfeed, it literally says “Mother Hilton,” followed by whatever asinine statement you need to make. You don’t have to write “Pearls! Why were you calling me at 2 am? Are u ok? Do u need money? We are worried. Love u. –Mom” on my wall. I get it. I KNOW WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE.

5. Stop posting baby pictures of me for the world to see. It’s cute in small doses, but making 45 albums of my life from the day I exited the birth canal through high school prom is a little bit much, don’t you think?

6. You need to stop friending all of my friends. It’s not funny that I receive multiple texts from various guy friends saying, “So…you’re mom friended me on Facebook.” It’s embarrassing. Just because I mention a boy, casually, in conversation, does not give you license to try to stalk him. Also, you’re not being discreet if you “like” his pictures from senior prom or freshman year formal. Psycho.

7. There is a huge difference between a wall post and a private message, and I wish you would figure that out.

8. I love the dog too, but nobody else gives a shit about him, so stop uploading new pictures of the three pound canine every four seconds, and stop captioning them with “because my kids won’t give me grandbabies yet!” I hate you.

Ok, like seriously, Mom. I love you, I do…well, most of the time, but you need to chill out with the social media assault. I feel as if you’re going Blitzkreig on my web presence, and I can’t even deal. If you’re going to continue to ruin the lives of my siblings and me, well past the day we leave home, you can at least figure out how to use Facebook correctly.

Love, your favorite daughter,


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