OMG! OMG! I just had the best corn dog of my life. I can't wait to post a picture of it on Facebook! ~ Everyone on Facebook

Unless you're a food critic for the New York Times, I really don't give a shit what you had for lunch, and I especially don't need a picture of it to prove how good it might have been. And guess what? I already know what you look like; we've been friends since high school, so please stop posting those ridicules selfies every three hours to show everyone how great your camera filter works. We've already seen the unfiltered you, and I'm pretty sure it's just moderately adequate.


How did we get here? Ten years ago, if I wanted to talk to one my friends, I'd just pick up the phone and call them. Now, even though our phones are literally strapped to our asses, no ever answers it! And all those voicemails you keep leaving on their ass phone just trickles into a vortex of unclaimed messages that will never be heard from again. But I'll admit... It is hard not to laugh when I see my husband feverishly responding to one of his rugby boys about another hard night at the Brewhouse. *Peck* *Peck* *Peck* "I  c a n ' t  b e l i e v e  h e  d i d n ' t  g e t  a r r e s t e d !

What's going to happen to our kids though? What do you think their social life going to be like in another five years? Will they even KNOW how to have a conversation with a live human being? The other night, my daughter told me she was jelly. I knew what she meant; I'd heard it before, but she's only six and it sort of pissed me off a little. "You're JELLY?" I sneered, while rolling my eyes. "What kind of jelly? Raspberry? That's my favorite, you know. Grandma used to make it when I was a kid." "No mommy," she begins as if she needs to explain, "it means I'm jealous!" "Oh, I see what you did there," I say mockingly, "You just shortened the word jealous because it's such a long word! It's odd that you chose another two-syllable word to act as a replacement though; I mean... I'm just sayin'..."
Her: "OMG mom. You are such a goofball!"

Me: "OMG? What does THAT mean? One mama gansta?"

Her: "No!" *laughs*

Me: "Out my garage? That doesn't even make sense!"

Her: "No mommy!"

Me:  "On my grave? Why would you even SAY that?"

Her: "OH MY GOSH!"

Me:  "What? What's wrong?"

Her: "No... OMG means OH MY GOSH!"

Me:  "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

I've heard a rumor (not a rumor) recently that boys no longer call a girl and ask her out for a date. Nope, they just pick up their mechanical set of balls and send her an impersonal, one-dimensional text. Whaaa?! If some little pimply faced boy ever sends MY girl a text message for a date, he'd better be ready to spend some serious cash because she's not going, and I'll be wearing the biggest feed bag he's ever seen.

I don't know if there's a cure for this social media nightmare; but if there is, I hope we find it before people start believing those awful rumors about me being a cougar. After all... I haven't even told anyone yet!