If you still don’t know what Twitter is, it’s like a live chat version of the Facebook status update. People will often just write random shit, but the trick is, doing it in 140 characters. Quel tricky. It’s a strange community. You can ‘star’ or ‘favourite’ the ‘tweets’ you like best.
If you star stuff, then you should also sign up at Favrd. That way, your favourite sayings will get logged, and the person who said it gets a little notice as a result. It’s a nice thing to do, Favrding your faves. Nudge, nudge, hint. Poke. Y’know?
I had no idea I was getting stuff “Favrd” on Twitter. How cool is that shit? People put little gold stars next to the things I say. I feel so speshul! Watch me blush.
I have to admit, some of this stuff cracks me up when I think it, so when I find out someone, anyone, got a laugh out of it or dug it? Makes me feel awesome. So here’s some of what people liked that I’ve said. Brace yourself!
The fella next to me on the bus either wears Rotting Apple cologne or he needs to clean out his bag. Rimbaud would approve. Me? Not so much.
- Bet no one wants to talk to the shouting bearded As-See-On-TV guy at parties. “BUT WAIT, there’s MORE! A martini bar! It’ll get you drunk!”
Homelessness is always sad, but it’s sadder in hard November rains.
- Why is Twitter so fucking slow on my FAST computer, and faster on my snail-like old laptop? Fuckled. That’s what it is. Fuckled.
I hate cable companies who keep moving the fucking channels around. Is it REALLY necessary? Is TLC gonna be better on 46 v ch. 34? C’MON!
- Now and then, something seemingly simple like putting a coat on becomes some end-of-the-world struggle that just confuses the fuck outta me.
I’m saying it now: If GM gets a “green” bailout & ever makes another fucking Hummer, you’ll find me in the belltower with a spotting rifle.
- Great public service idea! Every exec from Wall Street and Detroit’s big-3 should line up so taxpayers can bitch-slap ’em like they deserve.
I don’t want to order in food tonight. I want to order in a make-out session and teasing. But also bringing food? Priceless.
- WHY IN THE HELL does news always have to be “BREAKING” now? Fuck! It’s NEWS! And if it’s more than 6 hours old, it ain’t BREAKING, it BROKE.
Was it a Sex Blogger Calendar party or a virus-swapping? Only time will reveal all.
- Am I the only person that feels uneasy when a tv station lapses into dead air? Like, “ohmigod, is my show okay? is there an alien invasion?”
HEY, ASSHAT. Five minutes is enough of your car alarm at 8:35 on Sunday morning! If it getting stolen means alarm stops, THEN I’M FOR CRIME.
- I buy my onions from a store sometimes that, when marking the big sweet onions, will draw different wacky happy faces on each one.
Gotta say, having a job would be a lot more pleasant if it wasn’t so fucking much work. Where are the hammocks? The blended drinks? Sigh.
- Bring me a cabana boy, and keep your stupid-ass “tight deadline” bullshit, s’il vous plait. I have serious slacking that requires attention!
These bus doors squeak as bad as my old bed did during enthusiastic encounters. I’d recommend more lube but it’d just get me more nostalgic.
- Could be time to turn up the heat a little. Getting nipply out there. And pretty nipply in this shirt too. Oh, dear.
much chopping to do for ragout. onions, carrots, zucchini, peppers, etc. choppa-choppa-chop. chop. choppa. chop. sigh. chop. choppa-chop.
- HEY, COSTCO. I pay big bucks for boneless salmon, so why am I finding SIX BONES in this fillet? I work all week, now I gotta pick this shit?
People who post donut images are really just tools of Satan.
- An out-of-the-blue: People who don’t say thank you irritate me more than anyone. Just realized that. Gratitude, people. It’s only right.
I’m fascinated by the paradox of transit. When riding, both my empathy for, and my annoyance with, my fellow man absolutely skyrockets.
- well, masturbation’s only good for so long. i’m off to the shower.
Which, considering the subject of this posting, is the perfect place to stop. Heh. But that’s a selection of the first three of something like 11 pages or so of them, which is fun. I was excited when I thought I had one Favrd, but to have found so many? Flattered, man. Party on, Wayne.