Stop Googling my name, Mom

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You’re not going to like what you read here, and I’m too old to be fielding calls about what my future employers might think.

Oh, and I love you.  I haven’t called because I’ve been so busy at work I want to die and I’m tired like an elderly lady, but since you asked: the dinner party was good, I wore jeans (seriously, what kind of a question was that?), and I can’t believe you listened to that whole NPR interview.

The rest of you, check this shit out.  Tres awesome!

Update: Oh, fiddlesticks.  People who read this in Google Reader ended up at a Facebook Pages’ info site if they clicked the link above.  I realize you did not ask for an explanation, but I’m giving one anyway lest people mistakenly think I’m enamored with this newfangled internettery known as “Facebook.”  What happened is that URL was still on my clipboard from when I was compiling a guide for work, and I didn’t notice it because my brain is practically mush right now.  The link was supposed to take you to an amusing post about how not to be a feminist ally, which it now does.

The irony of a “Social Media Specialist” fucking up hyperlinking on her blog is not lost on me.

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