This is a post about Twitter. Since all my blog stuff gets pushed to Twitter automatically, will posting a post about Twitter on Twitter actually make the universe implode? Whatevs: my throat glands are the size of horse dung and I can’t feel my face. If this is the last thing you read, then at least you can be sure it’s a top-quality slice of Pulitzer prize-winning insight.
Now excuse me, I need to go gargle some salt.
I used to hate Twitter.
Like, really, really hate it. My face did this involuntary sneering thing whenever someone mentioned it. ‘Oh, the height of self-involvement’, I thought, grandly. ‘Thinking that someone is interested in what you had for lunch’. I forgot we already had something like that called the Facebook status box, which wasn’t Twitter’s fault. Also that, quite a lot of the time, I enjoy talking about lunch.
I also enjoy the challenge of summing up a day in 140 characters or fewer. It’s like one of those line-a-day journals I keep thinking I’ll buy, and never do. Sometimes I have to remove spaces between words to make them all fit, which makes me sad inside, but mostly I enjoy the excuse for a thesaurus. I just don’t get enough quality time with a good thesaurus, these days. Thanks for the memories, T-dawg.
The other week I posted my 1000th tweet. It was an unflattering up-the-nose self-portrait from Instagram, if you must know. But out of curiosity I started looking back at my previous updates. And they pretty much told me all I needed to know about the day I posted them. I mention this just in passing, but there are twenty tweets here, and I talk about food in nine of them. I really do enjoy talking about lunch.
Nothing sadder than watching the Domino’s man pull into the drive…and deliver next door. Thought he was following a prompting.
Just got 3/4 through making lunch before I looked at the time. 11am. OH MONDAY YOU MOCK ME WITH YOUR ENDLESSNESS. #cakequestionmark
I am going to write a song about hipster lifestyle bloggers, called ‘She Keeps Her Ketchup in a Mason Jar’. Suggestions welcome for 2nd line.
Sometimes I imagine Joseph Fiennes as inky-fingered Shakespeare actually blowing up the sun with his hotness. Could happen.
Me: Soo, I need to apologise. Tim: For what? Me: When I woke up from that nap, I’d drooled on your head. This is marriage, people. #romance
‘A half-read book is a half-finished love affair’. David Mitchell
Happiness is:waking up and not feeling like death for 1st time in days; realising you have 5 lost lbs to put on and the world is your pizza.
Had a dream that I hung out with some of my favourite bloggers. And I was painfully shy, and they thought I was boring. #humilitydreams
Trying to decide how to hyphenate ‘hardcore country music’. Didn’t know country music came in core strengths. #editorproblems
Gosh. Hardcore country really is hardcore #cocaineandawhore
Have a new tuning app open for my Christmas ukelele. @mrjeffcoat is snoring in the key of G#, in case you were wondering.
Told Henry we were picking up @mrjeffcoat 10mins ago. Since then he’s been repeating ‘daddy, daddy’ in this crazed, omen-style whisper. #um
Whenever I eat a KFC I feel like a small number of my cells voluntarily give up their lives in shame. #andyethereIam
This is the only thing standing between me and that atrocity in the bath.
Just paid a £5 library fine. I do and do not want to know how many doughnuts I could’ve bought with that.
1.Bite head off red lipstick. 2.Stand on it. 3.Go for very long walk on cream carpet.<-Henry’s Tuesday. #somemenjustwanttowatchtheworldburn
I am driving back from Tesco. Eating a pork pie. Realise it’s my third in four minutes. Then realise I am LIVING THE LIFE. #umpregnancy?
Toddler saying mystery word over and over. Sounds very much like a swear. Um. Hope he doesn’t remember it in church tomorrow.
In case you wanted to try taking a contact lens out from an eye with no lens in it, let me save you the bother. Don’t. #shorttermmemoryfail
There are times you’ve been tidying this room for 10 frigging years, and your toddler decides to love every surface with chocolate covered face.
Also pretty sure I ingested that chocolate egg so quickly I ate some of the foil. Ah, Thursday.
Brian Cox is telling me that the larger the animal, the less it has to eat to stay alive. Not true over here, Brian. I defy your physics.
I’m still upset about that lipstick. And now I want a pork pie.
Time for bed? Yes.