Mollie Shambeau: Master of Technology

The most important tidbit of information you will learn from this blog post is that I, Mollie Shambeau, figured out how to allow YOU—the reader and philanthropist—to purchase Style for a Cure scarves ONLINE through PayPal! I can’t imagine your excitement right now—it’s like all your dreams have come true!

To the left is a snapshot of SHANDA, a scarf from a new line from LA Blend that I added to my site. They’re lightweight and they have amazing textures and colors. Click here to view the available scarves, and click here to buy online.

With that being said, I will now launch into a roundabout sidebar that has very little to do with that fact you can purchase scarves online. I do this purely for your reading enjoyment, so that in case you get bored from my ramblings and decided—gasp!—to leave the Mollie Shambeau Show before getting to the end of this post (shame on you—I’m judging you for even considering that), at least you got the main point first.

Ergo, I’m not only a technology genius, but also an extremely considerate blogger. And now, let the rambling ensue…

* * *

Life doesn’t get more entertaining than listening to my parents talk about Facebook.

My dad, for starters, completely avoids it, and claims that the only reason he set up an account was by accident. Someone “tricked” him into setting it up to view photos. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? Literally, that certain someone (who will remain nameless) thought to themselves—Oh that Mr. Shambeau, he won’t know what hit him when I trick him into signing up for Facebook. He will be frustrated and confused and angry because I will lure him with a false promise of viewing photos! <throws head back for a dramatic, evil laugh>

I’m pretty sure he hasn’t logged on since that first day. (So if you’ve ever friended my dad, you can stop waiting by the computer to see if he confirmed you…it’s not gonna happen.)

My mom, on the other hand, is quickly warming up to the idea of Facebook. A little over a month ago, I received a phonecall from her saying something to the tune of:

Mom: Mol! You’ll never guess what I did.

Me: What, Mom?

Mom: I signed up for a Facebook class.

Me: <shocked and appalled> You’re paying MONEY to learn FACEBOOK?

Mom: Yeah! It’s a class that will teach me all about it.

Me: Mom, I could just teach you about Face—

<I pause, thinking about how tortuous it would be to answer questions like, “What does poking mean?” or “Why can’t I see your brother’s full profile page?” or “Why are you [insert inappropriate behavior]-ing in this photo?”>

Me: Nevermind…that’s very nice, Mom. I’m sure it will be worth the money.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t worth the money (I know—imagine that, right?). Mom was upset because they neglected to walk the students through the steps, and instead barreled through the tutorial, not allowing people to process the information by following along.

What does this mean for me? I get regular calls from Mom about how to do simple things. I can always identify these calls because she starts off by saying, “OK Mol, I need your help.” My brain goes DING DING DING! Facebook question! Don’t get irritated!

<too late>

She’ll ask things like how to send a private message…I guess she once posted the word hell, as in “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing…” on someone’s wall instead of in a private message. I think it scarred her for life to know that what she writes to one person could accidentally be sent out to all SEVENTEEN of her friends. OH, THE HORROR!

But before I go bashing my parents for a whole blog post…er, oh wait, I just did…

In all seriousness, I give Mom credit for trying—she really is getting better. If anything, her phone-call questions always make me chuckle (and occasionally twitch). And I guess I’ll give my dad credit too…he’s not trying to be something that he’s not. In his free time, he may be a skilled carpenter, an avid Kindle-reader and a connoisseur of water—excuse me, I mean Miller 64…but no sir—he is not, and will never be a Facebooker.