F-Bomb on F Book

So, as most of you know, both of the boys are home with the stomach flu through the end of the week on doctor's orders. Both are doing much better, and in fact ate dinner tonight, and it stayed put. Thus far anyway. Additionally amazing is that so far I have somehow managed not to get the funk...Mom immunity is a wonderful thing, although of course it would be handy to be sick when faced with the mountain of laundry and dirty bathrooms that two sick kiddos have produced. Where's the maid when you need her anyway, dammit?

Anyhoo, since J Bird was feeling better and was a bit lonesome for his friends I let him have some computer time tonight to play online games and catch up with his buddies on Facebook...oh how they love the chat function. Me, not so much- I like to pop on, creep around a bit, and pop back off- in, out, done. So after his time was up I went to grab the laptop and shut it down (that's right- tween boys clean nothing of their own volition) when I noticed he had left his FB page open...and one of his, ahem, "friends" had sent him a chat message that used the F word, you know- the Big One. The Queen Mother of dirty words. The F dash dash dash word. Used correctly, like, in a Biblical sense.

And that's when my very own mother, circa 1985, sporting pantyhose with her khakis and espadrilles and smoking a B&H Deluxe Ultra Light 100 while sipping her Tab, entered my body, took command of my typing fingers and wrote this:

Young man (Oh yes, I did she did)- This is J-Bird's mother. If you continue to use that language I will have to call your mother and let her know what you are talking about on FB. 

To which he responded:
Yeah rite (oh, the spelling!) J quit messing wit me

To which I (I mean, my possessed body) responded:
No, not J Bird, and not messing with you. He is not allowed on the computer after 9 PM. You are on J Bird's football team, right? I am sure Coach and your Mom wouldn't be too happy with your language. Clean it up, please.

So now it's official. I am the totally Uncool Narc Mom. I might as well hand in my Seven Jeans and leather jacket for a sweatshirt and fanny pack right now. Hopefully J Bird doesn't get shoved into a locker when he goes back to school.