Recently, to enable my Mom’s addition to Facebook slots, my Dad signed up for Facebook so he can send her points to play. And I guess he can play, too. But he’s so secretive he added NO information at all and even put in a fake birthday.
Obviously I HAVE to be friends with him. “Dad! Dad! Dad! We can be Facebook friends! Dad! Dad! You can read my blog! Dad! Dad! Dad!”
“Kerry,” he said, “calm down! Besides, you have to find me first.”
“Challenge accepted!” I shouted and ran downstairs.
Ten seconds later I was back in the kitchen. “Found you, ass hole. Now go accept my friend request.”
“Bahahha! Listen to her, so affectionate!” he said. My Gram was frowning.
“Hey, how’d you do that so fast?” My Mom asked. “I tried looking for him and a whole bunch of Dans popped up, but, you know, they were like in Oregon and some shit so I knew it wasn’t him. But it still took me a while.”
“I went to your page, searched your friends, found Dad. DONE.”
“Oh, wow, it’s really that simple?”
And what do I find on his page? This message from my Mom:
Careful of what?!
