Hello Internet!

I have awoken from a seemingly never ending sleep to finally post on my blog. Yes, yes, I know, oh internet, that you have been feeling impatient. For all I know, you have been frantically checking it whilst foaming at the mouth. I became some sort of deity if you will, doling out blog posts hither and thither, never stopping to think of the good of my people, but rather shining in the golden light of the Gods, allowing you all to bask in my glow, and then sinking back into the clouds that contain whatever heaven you may imagine and leaving you to ask, similar to Job

My blogger, my blogger, why hast thou forsaken me?

Well all you non- believers, I happened to have a very good reason. My computer was confiscated because I spent too much time doing what my mother calls "Facebooking". I have come to believe that my mother has no idea how to use Facebook at all, an idea supported both by the fact that she has only been on it twice and that she thinks Facebook has functions that it has never, or will never have, including:

Chatting with people who aren't online

Knowing who other people are talking to online

Using facebook chat with my cell phone

Twittering

In reality, my Facebook is up all the time, and most of the time I'm on the computer surfing the internet, completely oblivious to anything happening on Facebook. And, when I am on Facebook, I am usually just chatting. My mother lately has seemed to have a problem with any form of non verbal communication between me and my friends.

"Honey?"

"Uh huh?"

"Why must you text in the car?"

"I'm sorry. Did you want me to talk to you instead?"

"That's not the point. It's rude to text in the car."

"Why?"

"Can't you just call them or something? How about you talk on the phone?"

"Wouldn't it be ruder if I had a loud conversation with them in the car?"

"I guess. . .I just don't like that clacky noise. . .clack clack clack."

This discussion happens every time we leave the house to go anywhere. I don't know what my mother dislikes so much about texting in the car- I can only assume that she believes I am training to be an undercover spy and she is afraid my texting noises will give me away in a moment requiring stealth.

I suppose I can live with it if it means being a spy.