This is Facebook. This is Your Mom on Facebook.

This could be a post about going to the beach and doing beachy things, but everybody does that stuff.  So, this is a post about what happened when I got home (Georgia home):  I built my Mom a Facebook.  Cue the organ music.

Now, Mama Bito does have a degree of Facebook experience.  The rule in our family is that the parents get your password until you graduate from high school, just so they can make sure that me and the LaxBro weren't tagged in pictures committing heinous crimes or something.  If you were caught doing anything illicit, such as wearing a polo shirt without matching earrings (me) or dancing on a stripper pole on your prom bus (the LaxBro) the parents would find out, and there would be hell to pay.

Untag me please!

So I get Mama Bito signed up.  Right after the sign in screen, Zuckerberg pulls up a page that lets you import your email contacts.  Trying to start my Mom off with some Facebook friends, I go ahead and import from her email.

Burgermeister Zuckerberger turns up with a nice long list of names.  This is great!  Hey, Mom!  Here are your email people - who do you want to friend?

"Friends, out of the people I email?  Ew. No.  I don't wanna be friends with any of them."

Are you sure, Mom?  Why don't you take a look at---

"No."

Okay, then.  As someone who has exchanged emails with a significant number of 1) strangers and 2) jerks, I figure my Mom is probably smart to "skip this step" of setting up an account.  We add in her high school and college, and get her a profile picture.  She starts to lose interest, so....

Mom, let's get you some blast-from-the-past friends!  What's the name of that guy you had such a crush on in high schoo---

"He's DEAD."

All my enthusiasm was just making the situation worse.  Also, this is what happens when you google "awkward funeral."

So I turn to Zuckerpuppy for help once more, this time through the "people you may know" sidebar.  It should have been titled "people you have never heard of" speckled with "some random friends of my kids."  No.  Luck.

So far, my Mom has been found by a bunch of friends from all over - her little Facebook page is off to a good start.  She's caught on quickly to this whole thing.

This is a noted departure from my Dad, who used to read me his news feed like it was a story.  "And this guy - LOOK at this guy!  I haven't talked to this guy in, what, thirty years?  And now all I know about his life is that he plays The Farmville!  When I see somebody who does nothing but play The Farmville, I think 'Your life is a little sad.  Maybe we can't be friends anymore."  Good thinking, Dad.  Really!

He just walked in the kitchen, where I'm typing this.  "Where's this going, Ange?  Oh, just the Garnish? Okay, as long as it's not on my Facebook."

There is some hope at the end of this Facebook blue tunnel - my Mom just said, "Farmville?  I don't even want to begin to know what that is."  THERE IS HOPE!!!!!