I left The Twitter several months ago. I didn’t so much want to, but like my honey ❤ ❤ IRL got all OMG!! 🙂 When are you gonna GET IN THERE AND MAKE ME A SANDWICH, WOMAN?! And by “make me a sandwich,” I mean turn my Twitter feed off while we’re, you know, making with the marriage stuff.
NOTE: Right here is where my husband (aka The Ham King) turns and says, your boundaries are getting awfully thin these days, and I go, well, thanks, I’ve been working out, and he goes, uh, that was not a compliment.
Where was I? Twitter induced attention span of a oooh, did I just get a new follower?
What I was going to say is that since joining back up with The Twitter, I realize not how empty, shallow, and pathetic my life is—I totally came to terms with that years ago. What I have realized is that I should be more calculating in my tweets. And this is not actually because I’m in fear of broadcasting too much of my life to total strangers. It’s because, well, what if I get hit by a bus?
The fear of getting in an accident and not having on clean drawers has been replaced with a fear of what if that is the last thing I tweet? What if I get hit by a bus—it could happen—and my last update, in reply to a friend’s comment about being accidentally sexted, was
I have compiled a short list of tweets I am relieved were not my last words on earth (in no particular order):
- I actually laughed so hard I leaked.
- Just realized when I get cranked up, my use of "dude" and "freaking" increases dramatically. This does not apply to my use of "asshat".
- The decision to eat THEN ride might have been a bad one. #biscuitbelly
- Pot roast, bitchez
- The house just shook and power flickered. Anyone in [neighborhood redacted] have this?
- No more foods with "Buffalo" in the name for breakfast.
- Who forgets they have cookies? Me. I do. I HAVE COOKIES!
- I got 99 problems, and Tiger Woods' penis ain't one.
- See what happens when I don't Twitter for a while? I miss awesome ideas like filling Swiffer w/ salsa!!
- Coffee and Cheez-Its: Breakfast of champions or pathetic cry for help? Discuss.
- Where are the pictures of flaming snowball farts? Nowhere.
- I will, by the power of Greyskull, write something tomorrow even if it's a treatise on unicorn farts. You have been warned.
- And then did I "enjoy" using moist wipes to "feel extra clean"?
- Tonight, I will get knocked up with a food baby whose baby daddy is nachos.
- I did not understand the screaming chickens. Don't they know they don't have to be cut open to retrieve the eggs?
And, finally, three that might have been helpful had they been my last tweet:
- @****** HOLY SHIT! What great birth control that was! Thanks!
- OK, y'all. I'm making a drinking game out of these Olympics somehow. If you don't hear from me tomorrow, you'll know I figured out how.
- In between Jon Stewart and Ricky Gervais. That's how I want to die. Right there.