And I thought blogging was a Darwinian popularity contest. Ha! Ha ha! Survival of the wittiest!
And then, Facebook! Survival of the flittiest!
HA!
No. It’s Twitter that’s culling the socially inept from the human race. Wretched, wretched Twitter. It just…confounds me. No one answers me when I tweet! I do not speak the tweet!
Yes. I know I said I was a Twitter quitter. Until I fell off the tweet wagon. Twit.
One of my best friends? I mean I love this guy, so much? Yeah, HE DOES NOT ANSWER ME WHEN I TWEET! YES, YOU, SPOTCOOLSTUFF! Just because you’re in the cool travel club with Ms. Sexy Goplanit and I can’t tweet intriguingly about anything but my dishwasher? DOES NOT MEAN YOU GET TO IGNORE ME, MISTER STINKER. I may be in the school band playing the marimba BUT I AM STILL WORTHY OF YOUR PUBLIC TWEETS IF YOU EMAIL ME REGULARLY.
And: My blog wife, Mochamomma, the hussy, is a tweeting fool, getting tweeted up against the lockers by endless admirers! I watch around the corner and adjust the duct tape on the bridge of my glasses and fiddle sadly with my pocket protector, wondering how to get her attention again. I fear a breakup is imminent. Even NPR loves her. If I knew how to retweet that, I would.
And: It gets worse! I typed in the wrong person’s name in a tweet about earmites and fleas. And HE told all of his pals that I might be a pervert or, worse, an earmite spammer! Then, when I apologized, he ignored me FROM HIS PLACE AT THE QUARTERBACK AND CHEERLEADERS’ LUNCH TABLE!!! OMG!!! WTF??? CRICKETS!!!!!!!!! NOTHING!!!!!!! Why am I such a loser in Twitterland????
Twitter is the equivalent of a school gym filled with barking class clowns with ADHD. I have PTSD from my failed tweets. TWITTERERS! HEAR YE THIS! I AM A HUMAN BEING! I AM NOT A HOUSEPLANT OR A MARBLE OR SOMETHING THE DOG FOUND UNDER THE COUCH!
A pox on you, Twitter. High school was easier to navigate. I could usually find someone willing to eat lunch with me.
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