Ever had one of those Friday nights where you have a splitting headache, your husband is out, your children refuse to go to bed, and you find yourself signing up to Latest Social Networking Phenomenon “Twitter” only to then find yourself “tweeting” away inanely to an Audience of One, who happens to be your very first boyfriend from when you were 14 and who is now happily married and has five children, thank you very much?
Well, I did have one of those Friday nights. And I’d like to think that, for my Audience of One, it was a little like having a private audience with one of the Greatest Comic Minds of Our Time, but actually it was probably a lot more like being cornered on an express train by a mad-woman who may or may not have shat her pants.
A lot of people say to me “What exactly is twitter, NDM? And why have you signed up? And don’t you have enough on your plate as it is without committing yourself to further social networking? Quite frankly, you should be concentrating a little more on the State of Your House.” And then I get all cranky because those people, even though they are all total figments of my imagination, are always cranky and so damn critical.
Still, those of you who are a little less vocal, might not know what Twitter is and since you’re being so polite and quiet about it, I’ll answer these naysayers’ questions.
In 140 characters or less: “Twitter is just like facebook status updates except you don’t have to be ‘friends’ with someone to receive them, you just become a ‘follower’ instead which sounds a bit like you’ve just signed over 10% of your earnings in some kind of Messiah-Disciple-cult-type-arrangement where you get to sit at their feet and hang off every single wise word but, in reality, all it is a constant stream of updates – in 140 characters or less – about which people just went to the toilet and how their faeces might be classified according to the Bristol Stool Chart and…” Oh shit, I just blew the 140 characters, didn’t I?
“By over 400 characters. If you really want to know, NDM,” those usual people just can’t help but point out.
Yes, thanks for that, people. In all honesty, I’m not really made for the 140 character limit that Twitter imposes on you – it takes me 140 characters just to get warmed up and at least 300 characters to even start being funny (and for the record the Bristol Stool Chart is real and was brought to my attention by the unstoppable force that is the Bearded Iris – see her post “On the Bright Side” for more. If you’ve got the stomach for it, that is.)
So, why have I signed up? It is all part of my Cunning Strategic Plan to become an International Internet Phenomenon. At the time of publishing this post, I had increased my Twitter “Followship” from one to ten so I am clearly well on my way. Clearly.
As for the full plate/state of my house remarks, I shall not even dignify those questions with an answer. But I shall say that the floor was recently spotted in the Back Room. No, really. Apparently, according to the source, the carpet was a brown-ish colour. Brown? Fancy that. I could have sworn it was blue when we moved in.
So what do I think about Twitter so far? It’s hard to say, really. Unlike “The Book of Face”, nobody has thrown a sheep at me, poked me, super-poked me or sent their zombie army to attack me. Or even invited me to take part in the quiz “Which Secret Seven villain do you most resemble?” and “If you were facial hair on a 1970s Australian cricketer, what would you be?”. Which is kind of a relief, because the less I know about myself the better, really. It’s hard to blog with all that self-knowledge.
And listen, here’s the really exciting thing about Twitter: if I wanted to, I could “follow” Lindsay Lohan. No, really! Or perhaps better still, I could follow the FakeLindsayLohan who gets up to all sorts of fake alcohol-fueled antics with her fake Lesbian Lover. It’s difficult to imagine any circumstances where I would ever want to follow either, but isn’t it nice to have Options?
And famous people might just start following me! My friend Mr C had Uncle Kev (Prime Minister of Australia) follow him for twenty-four hours – he never knew why he came or why he went away. But for twenty four hours, Mr C had the ear of the Prime Minister – or at least some lowly aide from the PM’s office in charge of twittering. Personally, however, I like to think Uncle Kev is keeping tabs on the mood of the people via “Twitterberry“.
Now, if I could only get Uncle Kev’s ear for even one hour, let me tell you this much: he’d sure as hell learn a lot about my bowel movements. Come on, Kev, click http://twitter.com/theNDM and let the fun times begin. You know you want to.