“Oh this should be good,” he says absently as he rests his chin on my head.

I shake my head in denial, completely horrified at the fact that I drunk Facebooked last night.

How can he be so calm?  God only knows what I did that his mother might have seen.

“No wonder your mother isn’t very impressed by me,” I state.

“Nah, don’t take that personally.  Madelyn Ellis was born with a stick up her ass,” Drew reassures me.

“It’s true, she was,” Carter agreed.  “And they love you so stop it.”

A few minutes later, Liz, Jim, and my father arrive and after introducing themselves to Carter’s parents, they make their way over to our little group.

“So, I’m guessing since you’re still alive Carter’s mom either hasn’t read her Facebook page yet or she has a really good sense of humor,” Liz says with a laugh.

Oh my God.  That’s it! I’m putting an ad out for new friends.

“I should have been nowhere even remotely near Facebook in that condition.  What is wrong with you people?!” I yell in a loud whisper so Carter’s parents won’t hear my hysterical breakdown from their table over by the kitchen where they are currently showing Gavin what each utensil is for and how to place the napkin in his lap.

Oh Jesus.  They have manners.  They have manners and they’re all proper and know which fork to use, and I took a dump on their Facebook page last night.

“You guys let her near the internet when you went out?  Jim should especially know better.  How many times has she lifted your cell phone and hacked your Facebook page to tell everyone you like to eat baked beans off of hookers?” My dad asks with a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, George.  I remember when she changed your status to say, ‘Can anyone tell me what it means when your penis has a blue discharge that smells like egg salad?’” Jim reminds him.

“So who let the dip shit near a phone?” my dad questions.

Can you feel the love?  Can you?  It feels almost like having my toenails ripped out.

“Well, at first we thought we should take her Blackberry away for her own safety and for that of those around her.  But when she posted, “Spitters are quitters” on every one of Carter’s cousin’s pictures in her photo album, at that point it was just too funny to put a stop to.” Drew laughs.

Oh fuck me.

I vaguely remember while Carter was up at the bar buying a bottle of wine at the fourth winery, I told everyone the story about how his cousin Katie gave some guy a blow job in college and gagged on his spunk.  The very same story she had just told me a few days ago when she accepted my friend request and swore me to secrecy.  Yes, I realize this is very personal information to be sharing with an almost-stranger, but we bonded quickly over Facebook email, what can I say?  I may have suggested that if I told anyone her deep, dark secret she could shave my head.

Double fuck.

“I really don’t want to hear the story about my cousin that goes along with that, do I?” Carter asks as I crane my neck around to see the grimace on his face.

“Probably not,” I mutter as I look back at Liz.

“Give me your phone.  Now,” I state with my hand out to her.

Of course, today of all days my phone’s battery is dead and I've left the fucking thing at home.

Liz pulls her iPhone out of her purse and slaps it into my open palm.  I yanked it to me faster than a fat kid with a piece of cake and quickly click on the Facebook icon and log into my account.

“Holy fucking shit,” I whisper as the little globe symbol at the top of the screen tells me I have sixty-five new notifications.

Liz moves over next to me and glances over my shoulder.

“Oh don’t worry. Most of those were you replying to your own posts using my account.  You were really cracking yourself up last night.”

This is doing nothing to make me feel better.  I go to Katie’s page and clicked on one of the two photo albums she had in there.  I quickly scan through the pictures and don’t find any offending comments.  Maybe I had deleted them.

Right, and maybe fairies will start shitting money on my front lawn.

“Wrong photo album,” Drew states as he also comes around behind me so he can peer over my other shoulder. “The photo album you want is the one titled, 'Missionary Trip to Jerusalem.'  And yes, I totally just said ‘missionary’ without laughing.”

I am going straight to hell.

At this point, Carter moves his head to the side, right next to mine, so he too can look down at the phone.

I click on the correct album and sure enough, under every single photo from her trip to Jerusalem with people from her CHURCH GROUP, I have posted the words, “Spitters are quitters.”

“Oooh, oooh, wait!  This is my favorite part!” Drew says excitedly as he snatches the phone out of my hand and navigates to the last picture in the album.

He finds what he was looking for and barks out a laugh before handing the phone back to me. I grab it out of his hand roughly and shoot him a dirty look for his excitement at my epic fail.

Not only does it say “Spitters are quitters” under the last photo in the album, but below that stellar use of the English language I have written, “Jesus is my homeboy.”

“Your cousin is never going to forgive me,” I said with a sigh.

“Eh, she’s a bitch anyway.  Someone needed to put her in her place.” Carter laughs as he tightens his hold on me.

I reach my arm out to hand the phone back to Liz and notice a funny look on her face.

“What?” I ask with trepidation, my arm just hanging there since she hadn’t reached out to take the phone from me.

“Oh fuck, there’s more?” I question her as my shoulders drooped.

“You might want to take a gander at the conversation we had on Carter’s mom’s page,” she says, not even bothering to contain the laughter at this point.

I’m sure my eyes are the size of dinner plates as I just stand there staring at her.

“Oh my God!  I forgot about that!  I read it again this morning and almost pissed myself!” Drew chuckles.  "Not on any furniture," he says to me in total seriousness.

I regretfully bring the phone back to me and pull Madelyn Ellis’ Facebook page up.

At exactly 12:28 a.m. I had posted the following on Madelyn’s page:

“You are a gigantic, stinkotic, vaginastic, clitoral, liptistic whore dizzle.”

Three minutes later Liz responds with: “Dude, was this meant for me?  You just posted this on Carter’s mom’s page. Ha!  You dumb ass!”

I stare at the rest of the conversation, ON CARTER’S MOM’S PAGE, and I want to vomit.  His MOM’S page, people!  I don’t think you understand the level of suck we’re at right now.

Claire Morgan:  You are a furry nut sack on the giant dick of my life.

Elizabeth Gates: You are the taco to my furry heart.

Claire Morgan: Where is your Dumbo-earred vagina?  I can hear it flapping from here.  Are you trying to fly back to me?

Elizabeth Gates: My vagina is way nicer than anything you own you drizzly, weighted down orca of a woman.

Claire Morgan: Your vagina is like a burning clown car…this flaming taco with hundreds of screaming people trying get the fuck out of it.

Elizabeth Gates: Dumb shit whore.

Claire Morgan: Dick weed.

By the time I got to the bottom of the thread, Carter has stepped away from me and is practically convulsing with laughter.

Carter’s parents choose that moment to walk Gavin back over to us, and  I am praying to God, Allah, Buddha, and Ryan Seacrest that she had not logged into her Facebook account yet today so I can get in there and delete everything.

Drew and Jim are now huddled together behind me quoting those posts back and forth to each other in loud whispers and laughing like hyenas.