In an effort to catch up to 2010, I have finally started using Twitter.
What I mean by using, is that I follow about 150 people and gobble up their tweets like they are manna from heaven. It seems that there are some seriously funny/despicable/morally decrepit people on Twitter.
It does make me very warm and smiley, and more envious that people can be that clever with such a limited character base.
I am nervous to tweet.
I feel like I have just arrived at a party, everyone is there, everyone is funny, intoxicated, dressed to impress, and I am standing there wearing dungarees with a bag of opened Chuckles in the pocket in front. I am wondering how to strike up conversation, but I am wondering if I should pour a drink and go into the kitchen and wash dishes —- that is a good way to be useful, and remove myself from the social pressure, and maybe have the odd person talk to me as they come in to the kitchen to refill their drink and they will say “hey, why you are you washing dishes ….”
I tweet and then sit there and wait for someone to respond.
No one does. I am actually not sure exactly how it works.
This further adds to the sense of “wearing a head brace” and Bata Toughees to a Marie Claire party full of swanky good looking, rich and successful people. Feeling awkward.
This morning I opened Twitter – as I do with my morning cup of tea, and I was like WTF??
Three tweets I have no recollection of posting. I panicked and thought “fk, fk, fk, please please please do not let me have much in the way of damage control to do………what the hell have I done and who to??? Can I blame it on the Facebook Hacker shit? Can I? Can I?”
I calmed down, and reread the posts and I thought they were pretty good – I did not realise I was that clever. I am also pretty funny. No freaking idea where that came from.
If you received an sms or an email or a facebook post from me after say 22h00 last night, please be so good as to just delete it.
The last one I recall was the Woolworths comment about the onesie — after that, nothing.
Seriously though, who in their right mind as an adult would wear a onesie? I think they are cute, for a 3 year old, but I wouldn’t put my 11 year old in it. Good grief …. who buys this stuff? And why do they both look so happy — how the hell are you meant to get to your stuff when you are zipped up from your crotch to your neck? And seriously why, why, why!!!!
So I am on twitter – and I have no fckn idea what I am doing most of the time – but that is sort of a reflection of how I function — I cannot promise that there will be many tweets, as I tend to stand around a lot and shuffle my feet …….. I also get a bit nervous when I receive notifications that people are following me … I interpret it as stalking me …. and my paranoia tends to pick up a bit.