Milk

So my grandma’s sister added me on Facebook. Okay, technically she’s also my godmother, if that makes any difference…
Oh man though, I was a flower girl at this woman’s wedding. I was a kicking and screaming 5 year old when this woman was getting married (she got married at a relatively late age). And now she’s going to have access to inappropriate comments left on my wall by friends, or emo status updates, or pictures of me completely drunk. I don’t drink all that much but it seems like every single time I’ve been drunk it’s somehow been documented on Facebook, and now my great aunt is going to see that.
Yeah, I could always put on some sort of filter for her so that she can’t seem some of this stuff, but….well, we all know that I’m 100 percent inappropriate, so eventually no matter what I block, somehow I’m going to write/post/whatever something inappropriate that she’ll have access to. To be perfectly honest, I’d rather add a complete stranger as a facebook friend than someone I’m actually related to.

This is exactly why, even though I started this blog for the purposes of keeping my family updated, I have not actually given anyone in my family the address to this blog, nor have I dropped the slightest hint that it even exists, and I hope that they have not wised up. Because then I’d feel embarrassed to talk about gross things—I mean, hell, I believe yesterday there was a reference to stain looking like the “worst [menstrual] period ever,” and that’s probably not even the most disgusting or potentially embarrassing thing I’ve written on this blog.

Also, I’m convinced that my roommate is an agent of the 3% Milk Conspiracy.

Also, I’m watching a Mickey Mouse cartoon in Hebrew (reminder, Mickey Mouse sounds like a total pedophile in Hebrew), and I got frustrated that I couldn’t understand Donald Duck. And then I realized that I don’t understand Donald Duck in English either, and I felt a lot better.