twittering

You know, I don't think there's any time in the last two years that I've thought, boy, I really wish people knew what I was doing right now. I haven't been hitting any hot clubs, having any deep and meaningful conversations in coffeeshops, observing things quirkily by myself in the rain. Moreover, the sense that I need to share my life with the world because nobody is OBSERVING me, dammit, has been permanently obviated by the fact that I am followed everywhere by a small human appendage. Including to the bathroom. (Are there many tweets from the toilet? How close do people take this minute-by-minute life documentation thing? And man, how sorry are you that Yoko Ono is too old for Twitter?) Plus, now that the appendage has taken to parroting my every utterance, I'm even getting a fairly constant stream of feedback.

"Let's build a sandcastle!"
"Cas-yul!"
"Do you want to go in and get something to drink?"
"Dink!" (Generally repeated several times, like an extremely small fratboy.)
"Oh holy sh**! Fu**!" (In response to the cranberry juice being poured on the white couch.)
"Fik! Fik!"

And this is why Twitter is not for parents. We already have micro-blogs. They're called THE TINY BRAINS OF CHILDREN! MWAH AHAHAHAHHAHAHAH!

(Thanks to Rekha for her post.)