Recently I found out that my mom was finally taking the techno-plunge and activating a Facebook account like all the other cooler Debbies she’s friends with. I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming. Last week I watched as she downloaded Candy Crush. OF COURSE Facebook was next.
Like any good daughter, I took care of this issue in the most mature, dignified and respectful manor I could possibly manage: by creating a fake Facebook account so she’d never discover my true identity.
First came the name. Easy. Shannon P. McCarroll. Finally, the middle name gets to almost see the light of day.
The rest was easy. Find a photographer and get to work.
Here is Shannon P. McCarroll in all her academic glory:
My generous friends (and admittedly some people I have never met before who I assume must’ve added me in the hopes of joining the book club I’m pretending to be apart of… sorry) went along with my alter ego’s existence by writing sweet G rated comments on my new Facebook wall:
All in all, it worked. Now my mom will never have to see what I actually wore for Halloween last year.
Moral of the story is, I’m safe for another year of PG-13 Facebook posts, or at least until she reaches her next level of Mom-tech and finds the real me. Or I guess until she reads this blog post.