It all starts with the most recent issue of TIME magazine. We have a small magazine holder in our bathroom, as I’m sure many of you do as well, and the December issue of TIME happened to be sitting on top. Why we’re still on the December issue is a mystery to me.
Anyway, our dear friend, Mark Zuckerberg was on the cover of said magazine, being lauded for his achievement as “Person of the Year.”
Over the next few days we would be sitting in the living room and hear someone shout from the bathroom, “Mark Zuckerberg is looking at me!” Or making dinner in the kitchen a hear a muffled, “This is so creepy, Zuckerberg…”
When the magazine was finally read and moved out of the bathroom, we actually found that we missed seeing his face every time that we went to relieve ourselves. Well, my sister and I at least…
So we came up with the brilliant, half-baked plan to restore him to his place.
Late one Thursday night, after everyone else had gone to bed, we snuck upstairs to the computer and printed out a new photo of Mark Zuckerberg. Trying to contain our excitement, for what was sure to be a hilarious reveal, we tip-toed down the stairs and into the bathroom.
Our bathroom has a slight lighthouse theme, and when I say slight, I mean there are pictures of every lighthouse we’ve ever seen hung on the walls. So all we had to do, was replace one of those pictures with Mark Zuckerberg’s smiling face.
One of these things is not like the other.
We went to bed feeling incredibly accomplished, awaiting the moment when our parents would discover Mark.
It took an entire day for them to find him. The end result of our incredibly-well-thought-out, ingenious efforts? “What’s Mark Zuckerberg doing in the bathroom?”
“Well, it’s funny mom. Don’t you think it’s funny. You know, because he was in there before. Me and Natalie swapped out the picture in the middle of the night last night.”
It took a few minutes to process, but eventually they were both laughing. I’d call this a success. Maybe not the success as a company worth over $100 billion dollars, but I’m no Mark Zuckerberg.