One who twits?
Or is it tweets?
You know what I'm talking about, right? Twitter, the
Yeah, 'cause I need a minute-by-minute account of my dental hygienist's day. (Yes, he tweets.)
You can follow me on Twitter, though I don't know why you'd want to. I hardly ever update it, much to the dismay of missburrows, who is, at this minute, apparently smelling her fingers.
See, it's things like that that I'm not sure I need to know about people.
Don't get me wrong--I'm a finger sniffer, too. I just don't know if I want to broadcast it to the world.
(Well, a little late now, I suppose.)
The gurus at Twitter consider their service a format for "free microblogging", which is a great option for anyone who can't afford the exorbitant cost of a Blogspot blog and has the attention span of a stoned gnat.
No offense, Miss B.
I just don't see the appeal, but, then again, I believe I have mentioned I'm not the most interesting person in the world. Maybe I just find it hard to believe that anyone would want a rundown of the activities of which my days consist in real time.
Let's see...wake up, feed the whelp mini muffins and Mountain Dew, order him umpteen million times to put on some pants, take him to school, sit on the couch and eats Bon Bons until it is time to pick him up, feed him again, "interact", feed the big one, "interact", bury my nose in a book and ignore them for the rest of the night, repeat.
There you have it. I just saved myself the trouble of logging on to Twitter a good twenty times right there.
Not that I do. I'm just sayin'.