It’s that time of year when our spending limits are ignored and our good manners go out the window. But at least we have it all on film, eh? Even your toddler has a five megapixel point and shoot … to capture those candid knee cap moments around the Christmas tree. It seems “family” photos have gone from the darkened room 35 mm slide reels that were the status symbol of the 1960’s wood panneled basement martini crowd to the now don’t-kid-yourself-about-privacy Facebook wall of shame.

Generation XBox was certainly weened on the candid camera. Proof of which will become clear by the 2020 elections when no one will be able to run for office without high-def-faux-pas moments from their past being streamed across the cosmos.

When did we become so paperazi programmed? Why is my make-up-less, hair-mess, stressed out breakdown good viewing pleasure that it gets a dozen LIKE’s in the first hour some idiot tags me?

While my family and I enjoy photochopping and spin-doctoring our family history, we realize it isn’t for everyone. My own grandmother didn’t like to have her picture taken. She was a shy small stature dignified Italian woman who would wrinkle up her little face and wave her hand while rolling her eyes and say “Don’t point that at me, I look like Lizzy Tish.” In my eyes of course Grandma Pauline was beautiful, she was the essence of love and compassion, good old fashion comfort food and family values. And yes I miss not have photos of her … but I still have memories and that is the way she wanted it.

Me? I’m a YouTube-Blog-Whore. I get that. It pretty much makes me fair game for all of the “Ewww bitch you should puts on some damn make-up” comments. And for the most part I take it in stride. Yet there are private moments, things we would rather not be public about … each of us … and it isn’t for anyone else to say “It’s not going to kill you to do it.”

In a world that seems we have so little that we can control … choosing when, where, how and WTF we want to share in HD upclose and in your MySpace should be our prerogative. So when your guests come over to share in some holiday cheer this season … please be mindful of their wishes. Aunt Ida’s fruitcake ain’t all that to assume we want our picture taken with it. And don’t go on about whining that you want memories of the occasion … we all know you have an imagination.  You use it to have sex with the same partner year after year, you can use it to remember Mark’s Bar Mitzvah too.

So for all the wendy-whoo-hoos and benny-boo-hoos out there who want to zoom into the pores on our face with your new 1080p-flip and upload it to the anti-social network obsession of choice… let me make this clear …

Don’t tag me and I won’t shoot you.

Happy Holidays!