|photo credit: Heritage Vancouver via photopin cc|
The paragraphs go on to tell me all that I could be doing by logging off. Strengthening real life relationships (like online ones aren't real?), developing a hobby (got one, it's twitter), exercising (bawk! that chicken sound, you know?), and re-organizing my life (what's wrong with sitting on laundry?).
Right, all these things I could be doing. Could. That's the kicker there, the author assumes I'd be doing things if I weren't online. Oh, my sides, my sides from the laughter. Yeah no not so much.
Here's my list of "All I Could Be Doing If I Weren't Online":
--Staring at my fingernails, willing my lazy butt go get out of the house and get a manicure.
--Poking around snack cabinet deciding on what to have for second breakfast.
--Walking around the house with two pairs of socks on to stretch out my new winter boots.
--Letting Bethenny Now! exercise DVD play in background while I finish up sweetnsalty chips kids left out last night.
--Walk downstairs to basement with intention to cull toys dvds books. Walk back upstairs after three minutes.
--Be at local yoga class where teacher there always waits until I'm relaxed with my eyes closed to sneak up on me and make me jump ten feet into the air by whispering "namaste" into my ear.
--Or I could be at Zumba, where instructor tries again to talk me into leading Zumba Silver.
--Pull blankets off beds to let sheets "breathe" as Martha Stewart Living advises. Consider that my gold bar of housekeeping for the day.
--Decide to have lunch with kids at school, show up with McDonald's bags only to have them grab bag out of my hands and say, "Thanks mom you can go home now. No, really, you can go home now."
--Look down at jeans with permanent knee mounds, take myself to Old Navy for new pair. All are too long and too tight. Refuse to try double digit numbered ones. Drive to Hefner's Cup O'Custard, sit in parking lot, licking wounds metaphorically through death by chocolate triple scoop in cup. Consider death by chocolate literal invitation.
--Drive to afternoon matinee. Suffer through "Playing for Keeps" about hypersexed soccer moms wanting to do aging soccer star Gerard Butler at every which way while he coaches their little ones on for a team win! Try and guess which mom is the one who gets behind the scenes reffing. I win.
--Rummage through husband's sock and underwear drawer. Hoping to find something linking him to exciting past Bourne identity life, find only saved tags from boxers in case new ones don't fit.
Oh, the undeniable Jezebel that Social Media is. We need no more proof than this list right here.