Facebook fail: When Too Much Information becomes diarrhea

Mortified author in question
Mortified author in question

Mortified author in question
​To say that my best friend and I have a unique relationship would be an understatement; what we know about each other goes beyond the basic ramifications of "girl code" and into the uncharted territories of period stains, untimely fart releases and bowel movements.

When Ted (her name has been changed to protect her identity) and I met around the year 2000, there was an instant connection: We smoked the same kind of menthol cigarettes, we were both addicted to dieting and we shared a fanatic affinity for Will Farrell's body of work (hence our mutual nickname, Ted, which came from Farrell's baby man character, Ted Brogan.) At barely 20 years old, we fell in best friend-love while hustling cosmetics at the same make-up counter. We moved in together after less than a year, and spent the next two being obsessed with each other.

Fast forward to 2011: Ted's married and I'm living in my mom's basement and most of the time we spend together is at yoga. Yes, we went from stealing drinks at Streets of London at last call to meeting at 5:45 a.m. for our favorite hot power fusion class. But just because we are old doesn't mean the conversation has changed. This is why, after our usual morning power hour before she gets her kids to school and I tweet about my day as a freelancer from my bed, I decided to tell her about my diarrhea. On Facebook.

Facebook fail: When Too Much Information becomes diarrhea

Except, it wasn't her Facebook page, it was her husband's. It is true, sometimes we single people forget that couples can have the same picture up on their profiles. Actually, I won't limit this to a faux pas of the single-person eye -- I will say it is more due to the act of careless Facebooking. Because I can't read names and I apparently only identify people by photograph, I told her 35-year-old husband that, while I almost shit my pants, I was glad we got to exercise together.

I know what you're thinking: You're thinking, who cares whose Facebook page this is on? What kind of Patty McGrossout tells his or her friend about a bowel movement in a public forum? Well, the jig is up. I do. And Ted, I'm still glad we were able to share the joys of Padahastasana and chair pose together this morning, even though the whole time I was thinking about not squirting poo into my stretch pants.

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