But instead I find myself wanting to blog about two groups of people who annoy me:
1) Gangs of seven-year-old girls. They hang out in front of Baskin-Robbins, high on lime daiquiri sorbet, squealing and making plans for Opposite Day. If one of them gets hold of a cell phone, watch out. They will fucking text “I hate you” to their own mothers. Then they’ll scream, “It was a prank! It was a prank!”
2) A particular strain of stay-at-home mom on Facebook. I know I’m treading on dangerous territory by saying this, and maybe it’s because my biological clock is juuuust beginning to tick (though not enough to want to spend more than twenty seconds with a seven-year-old), but I feel like Facebook is a year-round, 24-hours-a-day braggy Christmas letter.
Not that anyone asked me, but a couple of things I am generally against:
- Posting a picture of your child as your profile picture. I’m all for posting pictures of your kids. If I can post a picture of my cat talking on a banana phone, you can certainly post pictures of your kids, who are almost as cute as my cat, after all. But when you post a headshot of your daughter as your profile pic, the implication is that her identity has totally subsumed yours. Disturbing.
- (I have a friend who posted a picture of her placenta after she gave birth. This I was down with.)
- Listing your job as “mom” in an overly cutesy way. I’m not saying being a full-time parent isn’t work. Part of the reason we had the seventies was to give some long overdue credit in that arena. But it’s a little bit of a luxury to be a one-income family these days. If I had a friend who posted all the time about how much she loved her super fun, hard-to-get job as, say, a film director, I’d get sick of her too.