My mom just tried to add me on Facebook.

OK, look, I’m sure you probably went through this nonsense three years ago, and this is one of the stupidest things you could ever have a crisis about, but I guaran-fucking-tee you did not make the following mistakes in the year 2005, AKA when Facebook had “exclusivity” and was only available to college kids:

A: Attend college

B: Take a remarkably expensive Europe trip where you redefined the amount of alcohol the human body could consume without consequence (I’m not even bragging, it’s shameful and I don’t regret a bit of it, although in 40 years I will).

C: Have every compromising photo of you get posted on Facebook because at the time, and this is the key component: HAVE YOUR ASS TAGGED BECAUSE THE SITE ONLY PERMITTED STUDENTS TO LOOK AT IT!

I mean Facebook’s got it all. Body shots: check. Mohawk: gloriously featured, in several colors. Me motorboating Danish high school girls: you bet. All that shit is there, 100 percent. Several times I’ve just wanted to scrap the old account and start a new one under the false pretense that I was hacked or something, but the vast majority of the friends that I actually care about would see through that crap immediately.

So, I have to make the following decision: either pretend that I’m a choirboy and submit it all to privacy settings (which would take hours, and let’s face it, I’d rather delete the account), or delete the account.

Jesus, that was easy. Thanks for listening. Simply because every good picture of me taken in the last six years is on there, I’m keeping it. But I’m going to trim my account from its current 377 people to 50, and use it as god fucking intended: for friends.

Have a great weekend.