Wednesday, January 6, 2010

you could write a book about us

Serves me right.

First I insisted dad get an internet connection at home. Then I taught him skype.

Now he’s on facebook. And has sent me a friend request.

I accepted. Reluctantly. Because I can imagine my parents lovingly scanning my page, reading into every comment made there, looking at all my photos and then analysing all my status updates.

Actually my dad isn’t the problem.

My mom is. She thinks privacy is a white woman who lives in another continent.

I remember hurling accusations at her as an infuriated teenager, after discovering she had read a letter that got home before I did.

“You have no right to read my letters.”

Her reply was always one of the following.

“I have every right, I am your mother.”

“Your letters? Remember, I am your mother.

“Don’t make those ugly faces and yell at me, I am your mother.”

How do you win a battle like that?

By learning to be sneaky. I remember a school crush sending me twenty four love letters on valentine’s day. I remember the number not because they were sweet or so well-written, but because I had to tear all twenty four into tiny shreds and flush them down the toilet bowl, while my mother banged at the bathroom door and yelled, “What are you doing inside for so long? Open the door, I’m your mother.”

She still tries it. Like if I’m changing, and she refuses to leave the room. She’ll stare at me, then I’ll stare at her, rather pointedly.

“Do you mind, I’d like to change.”

“So...I’m your can change in front of me.”

No, I can’t. Because you are checking me out with microscopic laser vision. What underwear am I wearing? Does my bra have underwire? And of course, is it washed properly?

Now she’s going to be on facebook, courtesy dad.

I’m already thinking of the possible scenarios.

“ Why are you wearing that awful silver hair?

“Because i like it. And I think it looks fun.”

Fun? You look like a clown. Don’t your friends tell you that?”


“Well, then take it from me, and I’m your mother, and I’m telling you: you look like a clown.”

Gosh. Dreadbook is an idea I might be able to live without.


Anonymous said...

Dreadbook. :)

The Cloudcutter said...

Oh the letter thing really bugged the hell out of me man! Many a teen romance of mine was nipped in the bud, thanx to my Hitler of a Mom. And the phonecall screening. Jesus, the number of blank calls (remember those days?) we used to receive back then!

The Cloudcutter said...

I think when pregnant women are given anesthesia, it affects a particular nerve in their brains forever turning them into Nazis!

BlueMist said...

I love this mum-daughter nok-zonk. :)

Dread book

Roy said...

welcome to my facebook! my mom has taken to commenting on stuff with detail I'd rather not have known to the world and I get the "I'm your mother" comment when I delete them...fml

Meghana Naidu said...

bad move
baaaaad move
no seriously, bad move!
you're doomed
next thing you know, she'll be reading your blog

im going to shut up and slink away before you throw something at me

Kro said...

well there is the power of the Limited Profile

agent green glass said...

@ki: yeah. shudderbook also works
: )

@cloudcutter: ooh. blank calls. every time we got a blank call, my mother would fix her eyes on me, give me THE look and say, " who was that?" whaaaat? how the hell do i know? do i have a crystal ball? does every blank caller inform me before making the call?

@blueMist: oh we are waaay beyond nok zonk. or even tu tu main main. we are like two warring countries, with my dad playing neutral country who wants out.

@roy: ooh. you are sooo ruined. my sympathies.

@megs: do not even go there. if i ever disappear from here, just remember, i have been busted by my mom.

@kro: waat? you think she'll take that lying down? "why is it i can't read things on your page? privacy...that's for others...i'm your mother!"

Atrisa said...

Atleast facebook has privacy settings and your mother isn't reading your blog. Mine read mine yesterday and there came a phone call. I'm pretty sure I used "Screw everyone" in the conversation :| Any idea how to prevent them to read blogs? Me thinks I should write a disclaimer before every scandalous post. Caution: Mom don't read this. You might doubt your parenting skills.

Shanu said...


Thank God my mom refuses to come anywhere close to the lappy. I wanna keep her as away from my FB as possible :P

soin said...

thankfully my mom is just learning to text from the cell and is thinking she has reached the pinnacle of technology.and my dad found about my blog by googling my name..fucking

Anonymous said...

Q. What if Darth Vader was a woman? A. "Luke, I am your mother!"

Haw haw haw.


disappearslikesmoke said...

dreadbook, there's an idea. really.

mentalie said...

you're buggered. get another facebook page. then you can have the 'parent proof' version and the 'parent quality checked' version. it's time for drastic measures.

This is that said...

hahahahahaha..brilliant..I know the whole mother thing, mine read my diary once which was full of gush and mush, I still cringe when I think about it. If I ever become that person..shake me nice and proper agent . And just send this right back to me. Or just take my child and make him wear the silver wig. Love ya.

Pinku said... u have done the silliest thing ever.

now ensure u block dad/mom on every post/pic u wouldn't want them to see.

and with a lil pain u can do that on facebook.

and as far as mom's go....mine chanced upon my old dairies post my marriage, thought them outrageous and went ahead and burned them all...

and much later when i was searching for them she triumphantly told me about her deed in a tone and manner which said that she had saved me from peril of the worst sort. Her concern was that my husband would chance upon them.

It took me a year and a half to forgive her and even now the thought hurts.

The knife said...

This is the point at which I jump up, hug you and say 'behena', AGG. So what if I don't have tattoos

I was into diarying thanks to Ann Frank and Adrian Mole. My mom read each and everyone of them. Which twenty years later translated into sermons about how I shouldn't blog late into the night. I think I chose not to be anonymous in protest.

Don't forget to ask K to tell you stories about how her Mom used to sew up the necklines of K's stuff in college...and when she was working. I sew them now :)

Try privacy settings. I think people who are blocked won't know. I hope so.

Divya said...

Sigh. If I blogged something like this, I'd have to face a mommy tantrum. How I wish she hadn't discovered my blog. Thankfully, she hasn't discovered facebook. Though she and dad both talk of "trying out" facebook and twitter, just because they've caught wind that I use them. I foresee doom and destruction when they (she actually) discover I'm not accepting any requests.

DewdropDream said...

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA!!! I sympathise completely but you have to admit, this is stuff that makes you crack up.

*Dreadbook* Bwahaha! My dad too got onto FB and sent me a request. My folks are not the kind who use the net so I have no idea why he signed up, but I put him on Limited Profile even then. As have I done with countless cousins and relatives. Hmpfh.

I had 'a talk' about some letters a penpal used to write. heavens! And blank calls! Who could forget those?! I resorted to using a girl's name everytime I was talking to some guy.

P.S: The comments section here is a treat!

Spaz Kumari said...

i just categorically REFUSED to put my family on my friendlist.

except my aunt. and my two cousins. and my grandfather. and my sister.

it's inevitable, welcome to the dark side. :(

and oh, my mom's standard ammo is way more annoying than "im your mom"; hers is "because i said so. also, i own this house."


try fighting with THAT. :(

Sangfroid said...

The apple of 'her' eye :-P

I've some FB requests from relatives. Approval is at my discretion. :-)

agent green glass said...

@atrisa: scary. i'm always worried my folks will stumble on this and then...fireworks, waterworks...the works...

@shanu: thank your lucky stars.

@sion: ha ha. my dad has been googling me...brrrr.

@hyde: hehe heheh.

@disappearslikesmoke: i think so too.

@mentalie: parent proof privacy settings - i think we shd petition to FB.

@thisisthat: gosh. no. i don't think you wld do that. and i think your boy is way smarter. he probably will never wear a silver wig.

@pinku: gosh. that must hurt. : (

@the knife: and i never kept a diary in fear of hitler at home!

@divya: what are you doing???? actively dissuade them now. nip it in the bud i say.

@dewdrop dream: yeah, we are a traumatised lot.

@spazkumari: yes, yes, my mom used to throw that all the time: it is my house, when you work you can do anything. now it is: just because you work, you think you can do anything!

@sangfroid: more like the wart in her eye!!!

Anamika said...

your mother is do look like clown.....listen to her.

agent green glass said...

ooooh. the filthy stalker is back.

Divya said...

Only last time, she was super appreciative of.. er.. certain parts of you :P

Anita :) said...

Sure...the "i am your mother' dialogue gives her every right to your territory, and it gives u no chance to say anything back! Cos, she is your MOTHER!!!

Small Miracle said... i have missed the blog world in the past 4 months!

Anonymous said...

“Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them" - Wilde

Miri said...

Why Why Why would you accept! I wouldn't - I know I know - very difficult, but better a day of frostiness than a lifetime of digging ;)

Milann Tress John said...

i have the exact same mother.
we had an 'open bedroom door' rule in our house.
i wrote in code in my diaries.
it's been a problem since i write scripts for films default in code.not helping the career.
this facebook adding thing will mean your mom is definitely watching you.