by Marinka on December 30, 2009
1. I do not actually drink vodka. I’m not allergic or anything, I just don’t love it. Not like I’ve portrayed myself as a vodka guzzler or anything, but I thought you should know.
2. Except if it’s in a drink that contains other life-saving ingredients. Like tonic.
3. I own zero pairs of stilettos.
4. Wait, was this list supposed to be Huge Motherhood in NYC Resolutions? No? What a relief!
5. The strikeout, which appears to be a beloved blogging technique drives me Miss Daisy fucking crazy. No likey.
6. I also don’t like expressions like “no likey” “nom nom” and “ktxbi”. Thanks to Kirsten for reminding me about some of these. Ok, I just noticed that Kirsten uses the strikeout technique that I so cruelly mocked above. Will this affect our friendship? Stay tuned!
7. When I talk to Mama and Papa in Russian, I do indeed call them Mama and Papa, when I talk about them to my friends in English, I refer to them as “my mother and my father.”
8. My daughter calls my mother “Lady Olga” because her first name is, indeed, Olga, and because “Lady Olga” sounds like “Lady Gaga”.
9. Last month, gay friend John told me that he will be hosting the Blow Job Olympics this winter and I never blogged about it and it’s like an issue between us now. But this is a family blog.
10. I worry that I don’t write enough serious posts and that I am tired of calling Husbandrinka Husbandrinka.
11. This is not a revelation, but thank you. Thank you for reading and leaving comments or sending me emails. You make blogging fun for me.
by Marinka on December 29, 2009
I know I’m about 5 years too late with this post, but I don’t get Facebook.
I assume that people who praise it with “omg, this kid I went to camp with friended me!” are speaking in some kind of code, because the idea that someone from my childhood making contact with me is enough to make me apply for the Witness Protection program. Even though it will probably involve relocation to Ohio or something. Not that there’s anything wrong with Ohio, of course, it’s just that this blog is called Motherhood in NYC, so I’m all sorts of tethered to here.
So, I resisted.
I created a Facebook account for this blog, proudly called myself Marinka Romanoff and then promptly forgot my password and pissed off dozens of people who tried to friend me. Well, what do you expect? The Romanoffs had it rough.
But last week, my 11 year old daughter sent me a friend request ad I accepted it. Because I wanted to spy on her. So, I joined Facebook again. And friended my daughter and two other women that I know. Also because I wanted to spy on them.
I am exhausted already.
First, my daughter started sending me chats. Then she wrote on my wall. (Nice that our young are being encouraged to deface walls with graffiti.) Then she sent me a “motherhood request” which means, I’m guessing that she indicated that I’m her mother and Facebook wants to confirm this before saddling me with a lot of maternal responsibilities. I accepted. I’m exhausted. Every time I log on, there’s some kind of Satanic message that I have to take care of some animals or that I am close to getting a zoo or that my daughter now has a Porpoise.
The last straw was this morning when I logged on and saw that my daughter challenged me to a Facebook pillow fight. And hit me with a Betty Boop pillow. What. the. fuck? The good news is that I have two days to hit her back, but I didn’t want to cut it too close, so I got into action mode immediately. I had many pillows to choose from. I choose the therapeutic one. And hit her back.
I can hardly wait to see what happens next!