Don’t read. Rated R. I’m furious.

If you are easily offended, stop reading now.  

Seriously.  Go ahead.  Trot off and have a nice cup of coffee and a chat with your neighbor.

And, whatever you do, don’t read the last paragraph. 

Still here?

Okay…here goes.  Last night, I logged on to Facebook, only to find a post on my wall by a charming eighth-grade friend of my children.  I think it should be titled Ode to My Mother, as he claimed he wrote it himself about his ‘explitive deleted’ of a mother.  He says he composed this thoughtful poem because she wouldn’t allow him to have friends and s**t over any more, although it smacks more of one of Eminnem’s masterpieces.  Dude. Word.

Anyhow, I get the feeling Mummy doesn’t alway check in on her little darling’s Facebook page to view his poetry.  People, people, PEOPLE!  Why are we allowing such blatant disrespect to run rampant on Facebook?  Not only did little darling’s post make me look like a white trash bimbo on my wall, it made his mother a laughing-stock.  6 people “Liked” his poetry.  Not one of them was his mother.

Another thing that children and adults alike simply don’t get it this… Your future employer LOOKS AT YOUR FACEBOOK PAGE when they are trying to figure out who and what to hire. At this rate, this kid’s career prospects are limited to gang member, rapper (and I hear it’s super hard to break in to the industry) and serial killer.

I know, a lot of you are thinking, “Hey, why doesn’t this uptight hag simply unfriend the kid?”    I did.  But not before he sullied my wall and the walls of anyone else on his list, including MY kids.  And as an adult, I don’t feel right about not saying anything.  About not hurting/embarrassing this kid’s precious inner-child.  Letting him throw a public tantrum isn’t responsible or self-actualized, folks.  It is cowardly and uncaring.  Why do we all sit around and put up with this crap, all  in the name of freedom of speech?  Hey, if you are a minor in my household, you are free to speak you mind.  But start up with the f-bombs and we’re gonna wrangle and I’m gonna win.

I have a feeling this kid (underneath his vitriolic spew) is probably a nice kid looking for guidance.  Clearly, he’s not getting enough at home.  He’s lucky he’s not my kid.  Because if he was, his Facebook account would be history.  As would his computer, iPod, iPhone, gameboy and Xbox 360 and all the other baby-sitting devices his parents are no doubt currently employing.  He would be assigned a mountain of chores (my toilets would sparkle!) and he would have to spend endless hours sitting with (and getting to know) ME!  his new best friend!  Oh, the ways we’d bond!  He could teach me to rap and I would teach him Ephesians 4:29.  And perhaps, in the future, we could avoid the four-lane car crash that he posted yesterday.

I don’t pretend to be a saint.  Far from it.  I spent waaaay too many years using language that I have come to realize made me look illiterate and low-class.  And, vulgar.  Trampy.  Disgusting.  And, while these things may still be true, at least I try not to give off the immediate impression anymore.

For those of you who hung in with me to the end of this rant, here is the edited version of this post:

&%$-ing slut you look like a mutt you held me in a rutt im done nomore fun we had a good run you too ton timeing #$%@! your a snitch you snaked my heart i dontmean to sound dark i guess it wasnt very smart to trust you in the first place when i got the first taste i got hooked i shouldve booked it when i got to chance no i dont dance or prance for you i stayed true too you oh boo whoo #$%@ you too.

I ache for his mother.  The spelling is atrocious.

Carolyn

 

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7 Comments

Filed under Children, Cussing, Facebook, Humor, Marriage, Menopause, Motherhood, parenthood, phone, please and thank you, politeness

7 responses to “Don’t read. Rated R. I’m furious.

  1. Amen, Sister! He wouldn’t want to live in my house either.

  2. Joyce

    Well spoken Carolyn. It is unbelievable what the “facelessness” of the internet gives us the “courage” to say.

  3. You go, Blogmate and dear friend. Hey, I began writing mean notes to my mother in my diary when I was seven. I had really good spelling, but she read the diary and let me know clearly that the kind of disrespect I was showing (even in my own head) didn’t go over well with her.

    In my twenties, I brought this issue up to a compassionate therapist who agreed with me that my privacy had been unforgivably violated. We were both wrong. I wish I could tell my wonderful, loving, kindhearted mother that I am sorry I was so full of myself and “my rights,” and that she was awesome. But she died before I wised up. Hopefully Mr. Eighth Grade Thinks He’s All That won’t make the same mistake. The Ten Commandments are pretty wise.

    Wendy

  4. Rosemary

    good thing this little darling doesn’t live in
    Tiller. I know my kids knew the difference between Irish Spring, and Lava by taste by the time they were 8. Good luck to his mom.

  5. Margaret

    Good for you! Well done!

  6. Jill

    Preach it sister….I’m with Rose…the little darling could do with a new kind of mouth wash before cleaning my toilets and all those in the neighborhood.

  7. Grace Bohannan

    A young man crying for help if you ask me. If she does see this rant she should first look in the mirror to why her child sees her in this light. There is two sides to every story and it is easy to cast a judgement but I have learned to stop and listen. I will pray for this mom and son there is something really wrong here. Then he would clean the toilet with his tongue. And would be signed up to a third world country for a month of cleaning their toilets. I bet he would come back a change young man.

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