So many of you have been so kind with your messages of concern because I haven't been around lately.
I almost wish I could tell you that there was a family emergency or that I was in a horrible accident. I wish I could tell you almost anything other than the truth, which is that
I am a rotten, stinking, depraved addict!!
I always thought this only happened to other people. This couldn't happen in my family, and certainly not to me. I have ten years of post-high school education, for crap's sake! What they say, though, is true: No one is immune.
And I'm not talking about a little booze or prescription pain meds here. That stuff is for amateurs. I'm talking about the hardcore, Queen Mother of all drugs.
That's right, people, I'm battling FACEBOOK and I'm neglecting everything in my life because of it. All I can think about is when, and how, I'm going to get my next fix.
I wake up in the middle of the night and toss and turn until I get out of bed, sit on the floor in the corner of the dining room, log on, and "throw" intangible Mardi Gras beads at the girl who sat next to me in third-grade homeroom.
My husband knows I've experimented, but he doesn't know about my problem. I'm careful not to show any signs when he's near. I always make sure I listen for his car in the driveway so I will be cognizant of the exact moment that I need to "X" out of the "Seinfeld" or "Brady Bunch" quiz I am taking, unplug the laptop, and run into the laundry room and pretend to sort the darks from the lights from the reds.
I have to worry about my four year-old daughter, though. She's a little narc. The first time I put her in time-out she'll sing like a canary about what happens when she's hungry and I'm looking at pictures of the husband and baby of a girl I haven't laid eyes on in twenty-five years. I think I need to decapitate her Dora just so she understands that no one better ever find out I make her pull out the kitchen drawers and climb them like steps so she can reach the bowls and the Fruity Pebbles.
You need to know all of this so you can protect yourselves from me. DO NOT TRUST ME. If I am driving by your house and I NEED to take yet another I.Q. test, just know that I will not hesitate to break your window and climb through it to get to your Internet connection.
And heaven help you when I lose my job and my cable gets disconnected because I can't leave my wall long enough to show up in court. Do not doubt that I will steal your grandmother's wedding ring and take it to the nearest pawn shop to get my DSL back. I'll do whatever I have to do to have access to my friends' status updates and the additions to their photo albums.
I know. I need help.
Do you think MySpace works the same as methadone?