I recently signed up for Twitter, and I've been thinking in Tweets. The problem is that the entries limit your characters, so here are the expanded versions of my Twitter thoughts over the past few days: (I shall offset them with emo hyphens.)
~A boy angrily told me that he was TO'd last week. Two things: A, our society has okayed a third season of Jersey Shore, sex tape stars in their own TV shows, and Tim Meadows said "shit" on Conan a few weeks ago...I think "ticked" is now acceptable to say aloud. B, if you're ticked off, let's be honest...just how mad are you? Really. I think I get ticked off when someone kinks up the flow of a 4-way stop.
~Adults with braces, why now? You've made it this far. Are you preparing for your 15 minutes of fame on "Millionaire?" Stop adjusting your lips around the brackets...it's creepy.
~Some engineering student published a response to my article in the CW. Had the article been a critique or criticism of my argument, I would have respected it. Rather the article was merely bashing my writing and my MO for writing the piece. It really upset me and I want to find that guy and pull the "what's that on your shirt" and then punch him in the face and ugh this is why I doubt I'll ever be a great writer. Give me constructive criticism. Do not dismiss me or my writing unless you're in my file of people whom I respect. Plus, it kind of blew my mind that a newspaper would publish such a hateful writing anyway...this isn't a literary review. Is the article productive in countering the point? No. Did it successfully make Bryan hold me for fear of tears? Yes.
~I'm really not confrontational, which is why the above Tweet really upset me, buuuut I got in a fight Saturday night? The story is really long-winded and trivial, but the bottom line is that I was quick on my feet and kind of hateful, but not remorseful as I type this. BAM.
~(Totally unrelated to the previous Tweet...) Why must the tampons be located on the same aisle with the condoms? Really? I'm menstruating...I'm not interested in glow-in-the-dark rubbers or fruity lube. It's so awkward. We shouldn't feel ashamed for something our bodies have been doing since middle school...so don't put us in a section of the store allocated for something we'll be doing until we die, although hopefully glow-in-the-dark rubbers and fruity lube will be outdated by baby-making time...
~When I work out, I sweat out my ethics and good faith. I make up deeply incriminating stories about the girls running on the treadmills, I provide provocative biographies for each stair climber, I fabricate richly deceitful conversations with weight lifters. I'm going to go ahead and say I do this for the benefit of my creative writing. Plus I always hydrate post-workout with ethics and good faith :)
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