Some of you have wondered how John-Paul has chosen me as his Facebook wife after only exchanging a few words twenty years ago and then a Google search. But after seeing all the anime/manga marketing work I've done along with that interview that still shows up on adult entertainment web sites, he and his roommates have determined that I am not just the right woman, but the right person, to take on the role as Facebook Mrs. Ouzounian. However, I will be keeping my maiden name because everyone knows that changing your account on Facebook is a bitch.
My only previous experience in a relationship was a boyfriend for six months but he was an Englishman so that's a foreign relationship, proving an ability to handle international issues that can erupt at any given moment such as the 3 am drunken booty call. And those of you who worry that I cannot handle both a Facebook marriage and a career, I tell you that I will fight for my Facebook husband just as I fight to get the second-to-last cup of coffee in the office kitchen so that I do not have to make the next pot.
My small-town values (Minneapolis: population 382,618) reflect my unusual position on marriage, such as mixed marriages (Vikings Fan with Packers Fan) and whether or not the affairs of politicians should stay confined to the men's restroom at Lindbergh Terminal. My affiliation with Prince is merely as a fan to a music artist; he is not my spiritual advisor as he claims in the lyrics “You can be the president, I'd rather be the Pope.” I strongly believe that abstinence works to prevent Facebook pregnancies, not just sending a $1 gift of a virtual condom or pill as that just promotes online promiscuity. No, unmarried members will just have to make do with throwing a sheep.
We all know there are the rumors circulating in the media about me. They say I claimed on my blog to be too old for Facebook but what I said was that I was too tired... and then I got some rest. I did not gay-marry one of my college roommates; we were merely trying to get a reduced rate on Costco membership by calling ourselves 'domestic partners.' The powdered substance found in my backpack at the Oakland airport was indeed the yummy day-glo cheese that comes from Kraft's blue box of delicious pasta dinners.
And then there are stories about my household. The baby I constantly refer to is actually Macy, my landlady's dog. She's here with me now in her camouflage collar before she heads off for the kitchen. For Macy, her brother Bob, and millions like them, I will make sure that vets get the proper equipment needed for even the most challenging operations.
I promise you as my fellow Facebook members that I will restore honor and dignity to marriage after the mess made by the previous generation. There are Mac people in the Red States just as there are PC people in the Blue States, and with John-Paul as my Facebook husband we will reach across the aisle to answer emails from people on LinkedIn. Thank you, and God Bless Facebook.