So, here’s the thing about my mom– she desperately wants to know how the internet works without ever putting any effort into remembering how the internet works. It was for this very reason that I was confident posting blogs that might otherwise embarrass her and her circle of friends (the ladies who love me) would go unnoticed.
Her lack of technological vocabulary is frightening.
Me: “Mom -go to the address bar and type in the website.”
Mom: “What’s an address bar?”
Me: “For real? It’s the rectangle at the top of the screen with letters and somtimes numbers in it.”
Mom: “How do I make the picture go away?”
Me: “That question doesn’t make sense. What picture are you talking about?”
Mom: “I do the Google thing and I don’t know how to get rid of the picture.”
Me: “What? Picture of what?”
Mom: “Never mind, It went away. I think my computer was sleeping. That’s a computer word, right?”
Conversations like this led me to believe that embarrassing topics published on the blog-o-sphere were safe from elder eyes. Technically, she has access to the interwebs (I think that’s what she calls it), but it’s kind of like having access to your state senator.
Technically, yes. Realistically, no. I once published an ironic blog post asking if anyone was aware of pills that might help me to grow my penis.
Given the abundance of such junk mail – I figured this was rather obvious commentary. My brother thought it would be funny to show this posting to my mother.
Mom: (In an email): Stephen, I’m worried about you? Are you afraid your penis is too small?
Me: “Did you really just ask me that? Clearly the joke went over your head – I was making fun of internet advertising. Please don’t ever ask me about my penis again.”
Mom: “Did Marie say something? Is your marriage ok?”
Me: “What the Frank and beans are you talking about? Seriously – stop.”
Mom: “I think you’re perfect.”
Me: “I’m going to pretend that comment wasn’t in reference to my body. I love you. Turn off your computer.”
I was under the impression that my mother had abandoned her dreams of learning the computer. I was more or less correct. She can send an email, forward some things too. In fact she loves that. Anything with a fat person in Walmart will inevitably find it’s way to my inbox. But so far as stumbling across my blog – I figured I was safe. Wrong.
My last blog disscuses how attractive I was to middle aged women. Much to my horror – this was the third comment on my blog:
“I liked that almost as much as mom did while I read it to her…. A little awkward within the first couple sentences but I thought it would get more pg and by that time I was committed…… Still better than “the wedding crashers” with her.”
Quick background – in an exceptionally poor decision, my brother and I took my mom to “Wedding Crashers.” In the scene where Vince Vaughn receives a hand job under the table – my mom nearly passed out with suppressed hysteria. My brother and I slinked into our seats and cried a little bit.
With that perspective – I’m left to thank my brother for the next most humiliating moment of my mother-son relationship. I talked to her tonight and explained once again that I highly doubted her friends were masturbating to the thought of me. That I had to use the word “masturbate” was incredibly disturbing, and no – I would never again blog about such topics. Whoops.
An honest message to my brother Michael – I’m sorry for whatever I did to deserve this. Please remove the battery from mom’s computer and convince her that the internet has been cancelled. Thanks.
And just in case Michael reads this to you again (mom) – haha, just kidding. You’re totally awesome at the computer. All jokes are made up, and I love you.
The Mama’s Avocado