I can’t believe I just said that, but it’s true, I’ve joined Twitter. Maybe I’m not supposed to say “joined,” but that’s how I say it. So far I have 10 followers, which is not so bad for an old broad like me. I’m pretty sure a few of them are not the kind of audience I am looking for because they have names like “I8cum” and “addicted2cock” and as you know, I’m just not that kind of girl. The rest of them are my kids and their friends. So hurry up and start following me before it gets embarrassing. I know what you’re thinking, “D.Parker, you’ve always been so anti-Twitter and Facebook!” That’s true, and I’m still anti-Facebook. But someone convinced me that being a Twit would lead more people to this blog, which will, in turn, surely lead to fame and then, likely, fortune. Also it’s giving me something to do in this second-most-depressing week of the year (the first-most-depressing week being next week) besides eating every cookie and candy morsel in sight and then having to clean up the endless crumbs with a broken vacuum. I just spent 15 minutes vacuuming a tiny throw rug and lord knows there are better ways to spend 15 minutes, like checking my Twitter account 15 times or eating 15 cookies or mixing 15 ounces of vodka with anything. And then drinking it.
It’s barely been 24 hours and I can already tell you this Twitter thing eats up a lot of time. Between trying to come up with clever things to Twit, I mean Tweet, and then checking to see if anyone read it, without accidentally agreeing follow “Iluvdik.” I didn’t even have time for my afternoon nap. So maybe you should just skip it altogether.
On the other hand it’s a good distraction from the rampant drama, that festers like the nasty mold on that old piece of cheese in my refrigerator, that goes on around my house when Charles has too much time on his hands (will the Christmas break never end?). Today, for instance, as I walked in the door from another trip to the supermarket during which I forgot to buy the thing I went there for (dinner), and bought a bunch of useless stuff instead (frozen appetizers), he told me that he almost choked to death in my absence. He was serious as a heart attack, the culprit being a piece of Halloween candy (yes, he is still working on that 19 pound bag of crap), and if it weren’t for his long finger that he was able to stick down his throat to extract that bite of Kit Kat he would be pushing up daisies about now. Do I need to remind you that Charles is almost 14 years old? Here I’ve been worrying that he’s going to come home drunk or reeking of pot, when I should have been worried about choking, like I did when he was a toddler and inhaled a dumdum lollipop right off the stick. If he starts telling me he shoved a bunch of peanuts up his nose because his pockets were full, I’m out.
Once he got over his fright he proceeded to disassemble his new skateboard wheels and clean the bearings (did I spell that right?) with my newest holiday-themed dishtowel (the one I display on the rail of the dishwasher, and is clearly for only for show) on my marble floors. They were not really that greasy, so I was able to gather my wits about me after going crazy on him in time to talk him off the cliff when he realized he got some of the grease on his new cell phone cover. Which was a Christmas gift. And which proceeded to fall apart after he soaked it in hot, soapy water, for 25 minutes. He finally calmed down after I reminded him that he had proclaimed this year “The Best Christmas EVER” and why lose that feeling over two destroyed gifts when there were still a few yet to be touched? He was ready to go hang out with his friends, he flipped out all over again when I told him to be home in an hour for dinner. Yes, it is completely possible to waste an entire day washing useless things to the point that they disintegrate. I must admit, the kid really can rival me in the wasting-time department. Little bastard.
Anyway, I promise not to write any of this on Twitter, because that would be redundant, and also because on Twitter you have to be really concise and write things in one sentence or even less. It seems to me that other people get to write more than one sentence, so I’m not sure if there’s some kind of “level” you have to get to like in a video game, when they let you write two sentences, but if there is I’m totally going to get to that level, even if it takes me all day, every day, for a week.
Meanwhile, I’ll keep writing useless stuff over here.
Follow my Twitter experiment.
What ever happened when you tweeted the millionaire matchmaker about Tim Gunn? Is she following you now?