Or: Why I Finally Learned Twatter Twitter

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Recently – and I mean recent relative to how long it takes for me to see a thing and actually respond to it – The Bloggess, whose great and terrifying blogging powers have inspired an entire generation of young narcissists, she called me an ASSHOLE.

It’s true.  You can read about it here.

It made me cry.  It made me want to crawl into a dark, muddy little hole and never come out, except if I did that she would think I was even more of an asshole because I still wouldn’t respond to her tweets.

“But Bloggess!” I cried in despair, “I don’t even know how to use Twitter!”

The Bloggess was unsympathetic to my excuses.

So I decided I must learn, in order to please the majestic, magnificent, the Holy Bloggess.

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I shit you not, Twitter confused the hell out of me.  I would hear all these ads or whatever about so-and-so being on the Big T, so I would go to www.twitter.com to find out what they were saying.  And then the only thing on the page is some search bar and you type in the name of the person that you are looking for and all the results would be about that person instead of that person’s tweets.  And so I was like, screw this, and basically ignored anything with a little blue bird.

Until The Bloggess called me an asshole, that is, and then I made it my goal to learn how to use Twitter.

And now, I still don’t really know how to use it because I got tired of reading all the FAQs and shit but I have an account.  I might even use it.  Or I might just follow cool people.  Who can say?