Twitter is an odd social convention, one which over the past nine months or so I have become utterly addicted to. Before I joined I was bemused at the twitter addiction (twiddiction? .......no.) my friends suffered from, they literally live blogged their every thought, movement, any incident that occurred was recorded and immortalised on this cyber journal. When I eventually made my own account, I tweeted sparsely, attempting to keep my tweets either witty or profound. That method soon fell by the wayside and now I tweet daily about anything and everything, from the mundane to the incredibly awkward, and frequent, events that form my existence.
I am rapidly approaching my 1000th tweet, an event that sadly means a lot more to me than it should. As such, I put forward this analysis of my best and worst, essentially a collection of 140 character thoughts that sums up the last few months of my life, its sure to be pretty dull at worst and hugely mortifying at best. Also I had to scroll really far so I feel like I have accomplished something today.
The pressure for this first tweet is painful.... Oh, that wasn't so bad!
A brave stab at a cliched joke upon entry into a new arena of my life.. Yep, sounds about right.
Andrew McCarthy circa 1985.. Thanks for the ridic high standards!
Pretty in Pink, St. Elmos Fire, Andrew McCarthy is the condescending 80s douchebag that should be populating my life, making me feel better about being weird and, probably, insinuating that I could be pretty if I changed almost everything about myself. Alas, I am on my own, but a girl can dream.
"There, Philip, below mine... YOUR NICE WRITING PHILIP!" "Oh yes, yes there you go. This countrys nice, innit? Do we still own this?"
One of the biggest events in my life over the past year is the impact of the Royal Wedding and subsequent obsession with the Royal Family, particularly Philip, which ensued. Watching the coverage of his trip to Ireland (and the Queen's too, I suppose) took up a lot of my time, imagination when it came to improvising what they were saying, and tweet space.
So the world's supposed to end THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW! ahahahah.....haha...ha...sorry.
Remember when everyone briefly believed the 21st of May was the end of the world? This was composed on the 19th... No further explanation needed.
"You have very big hands, God Bless you." - My Grandfather.
My Grandfather is easily one of my favourite people on the planet. He lives in the nursing home where I work so I get to spend a great deal of time with time, time he usually spends musing on my inappropriate hand/stomach size, worrying about when I'm going to get married (sooner rather than later seems to be the general concensus) and whether or not he looks handsome enough on any given day to "get some mots".
I've built a fort inside the hood of my hoodie using my imagination.
I have no explanation for this other than; exam time.
I rarely consider myself sexier than when plunging out the shower. Especially when Kanye comes on. Get down girl, gon' head, get down.
We've all been there, sexy dancing to the iPod, then glancing in the mirror and realising we look like a human equivalent of a sewer rat.
My Dad tried to hide the M&Ms from me. Degrading. Its like tying up an obese kid on a diet at night so he doesn't eat his fingers.
I don't think I've gotten over this, although when I found the sharer bag of M&Ms I DID eat them all, then immediately felt sick. So maybe he was in the right.
Waiting until its bright to sleep... New life low.
I suck at horror movies.
Good thing my bro in law is understanding of the female need to cook whilst simultaneously getting drunk.
During an ill-fated Come Dine With Me in my sisters home, when I started drinking before I started cooking to steady my nerves and help me forget that I can't cook.
Better invest in a coat.
True.
You don't even know Twitter. You don't even know how excited I am for The Muppets.
This was written in November. I have since seen The Muppets. And Holy Mother of Moses but it was fantastic. I want Jason Segel to marry me in a quaint, but not forced looking, Hawaiian ceremony.
=O
Not at my most articulate, but you get the idea.
Well that was sexually uncomfortable.
This was written about the Late Late Toy Show, I have no idea what it was in reference to, but I do remember Tubridy dressed up as Woody so its probably something to do with that.
She's literally YouTubing cats... What, I don't even...
My friend Aoife is the most ridiculously adorable person I know, she speaks fluent LOLcat and is the biggest Twitter influence in my life with over 400 followers and 52,000 tweets.
God I wish I had tumblr, for further means of procrastination.
I love you Blogger.
I don't like Oprah. There I said it.
SHE'S JUST TOO BIG FOR HER GOD DAMN BOOTS.
I'm in my twenties.
Oh, what a horrid, horrid realisation. I'm a bit in love with my birthday, but the aging fear that gripped me on turning twenty made me cling to immaturity more than usual. As a result on my twentieth birthday I was insufferable. Whenever I didn't get my way I would scream "I CALL BIRTHDAY!" until someone relented into giving me what I wanted. The shame.
Who won the superplate?
I stand by this hilarious wordplay. Plate and bowl, get it? GET IT?
No one will want to talk to me if I keep referring to feminist lit as my "Vagina Class".
I mean, where is the chase and how do I cut to it.
I can get up anytime I want...
This was only a few days ago! I'm still in bed.
Had to sleep in my parents bed after spilling a pint of water in mine when I turned in my sleep. Makes me wonder... Where are they??
This did happen, I am very awkward, and my parents are quite mysterious. I once rang my Dad to see if he'd pick me up from school and he couldn't because he was in Amsterdam.
An entire year of my life compressed into one blogpost via twitter: I don't want to live on this planet anymore.
Niamh (discovered the internet yesterday.)
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