deactivating.

“Hello, my name is Megan, and I’m a recovering Facebook addict.”

                “Hi Megan.”

It’s been a month. Exactly. The girls in my freshmen only class were in shock when I informed them of the fact that exactly a month ago I deactivated my Facebook account.

It was a joke at first. I was a fantastic Facebook creeper, happy in my ways. As I drove up the hill by my new condo Woman and I laughed about deactivating our accounts. We both made a lovely pro/con list for Facebook. Facebook lost. I was first. It’s actually a hard thing to do, deactivating your Facebook. It shows you pictures of your friends and says that they’ll miss you on the final page of the deactivation. But, I did it.

I’m not going to say that I don’t get onto my dad’s account, but it’s hard to creep when it’s your father’s account.

Just so you know, cars weren’t made to be offices and it’s amazing how many people go to Wendy’s at ten thirty at night. We’re now ducking down trying to hide from the Wendy’s employee who just came out to take out the garbage.
Um. Must go. Apparently they don’t like you to bum off their internet and not buy anything. Rude. So rude.

Appreciate your internet kids, hug your mother for paying for it for you.