Twatter

I got a Twitter. 

And I'm probably going to sound like I'm 108 years old when I say this but, I feel the same way about Twitter that I do about DVR.

10 percent useful and 90 percent a total cluster fuck. 

I don't understand a freaking thing and and black out trying to figure out how it works and typically just end up giving up entirely. What is the meaning of this?

WHATEVER. I'll watch the fucking commercials. I lived without it before, I can live with it now.

Difference is, now I pay for it. Served.


The other day. boyfriend was on my DVR trying to record man shows like Deadliest Catch and Orange County Choppers and I was in AWE at how quickly he navigated through...truly shocked. Who taught you this? Was there a college course for DVR?

So he goes to the part where it shows you 'my recordings' and I'm all whoaaaa and then the screen pops up and its like 57 recordings of the same episode of Bethenny Ever After. 

As a side note, if I watch one more episode of Deadliest Catch, I'm going to throw myself down the stairs.


Anyway, I got Twitter so that I can have another avenue to stalk the Kardashians promote the blog. 


Right off the bat, I followed the entire Kardashian Klan (too many Ks? is that too insensitive after the white comment?) yes, including Rob.

Katy Perry, Britney Spears and Shia LeBouf quickly followed. 


THIS IS BUSINESS, PEOPLE.


So all I'm wondering is whyeveryonetalkswithoutspaces and the primary significance of @ and #. 

So far, I don't understand and I'm not enjoying myself. 

Ten days and several techo nightmares later, I went to log in to take another stab at this Twitter phenomenon. 


I forgot my password. 


Gave up. 


And there goes that project. 


Good thing Twitter is free.

Because if faced with the responsibility of trying to figure out how to deactivate a Twitter account, it's probably going to send me over the edge.


It is free, right?

Once Upon a Time There Was a Blog...

And it was good. 

I'm sure you're wondering by now if I got that job. 

Well I didn't, so suck it. IT WASN'T MEANT TO BE.

Except it totally, totally was meant to be.

But, I did get a super nice email from the manager as a consolation prize. Sort of a 'hit me up in 2 years' email. That's probably exactly how Cindy Crawford started her modeling career.


Did the email make me feel better? Slightly. 


Are they signing my paychecks? Not.

In the meantime, I am applying violently.


Regardless, my hatred towards my current job has me convinced my future imaginary company is just working hard to present me with a ballin' package of benefits, salary and other legit things I don't even know about yet. I probably haven't even heard of these benefits 'cause they're gonna be so sweet. 

Yeah, they're totally just waiting for me. Whoever they are. 

It's all about getting your hopes up for something that won't happen positivity. 



In an attempt to distract myself, I've had a bit going on. 

Boyfriend bought this

I won this

Drove to Oklahoma like this

Aaaaaaand the big reveal.

I'm white.

Boyfriend and I ran a race just like this 

And this

 And this

It was called Mud Run and was 6.2 miles and 35 obstacles of dirty sweaty insanity. And free beer at the finish line. 

If you say the first part really quickly then free beer at the finish line is convincing enough. 

It worked for us.

Boyfriends puppy grew into this 

Started a marathon training that looks like this

Cooked a dinner like this. Or was this, rather

Suffocated to death in weather like this