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All the Little Birds on Jaybird Street

If you'll look to your right, please, ladies and gentlemen, you will notice an addition to Blonde Champagne.  C'est Twitter.

When I was liveblogging The Most Metaest Blogging Experience that Ever Metaed, one of my fellow writers mentioned that she was "tweeting" the debate, which sounded terribly unladylike, but Rick Brookhiser gave her the Deep One-Nod of The Impressed.  I scurried to my laptop to look up "tweeting," but on my way there somebody gave me some wine, which meant I had no idea what "tweeting" was until my husband made sure I knew whether I liked it or not.

There was immense initial resistance to this.  First of all, I'm famously wary of new forms of social networking, as each one becomes a progressively more suckatious black hole for time.  That is why I have a Facebook account but no idea what the login and password are; Josh The Pilot manages my page.  Twice a month or so I'll walk up to him and his Face.... area, or whatever it is, and say, "Can I see Julie?" and he'll call up Julie The NephewsMama's page, where she sometimes types things like, "Almost drove off the road today when James said he saw a 'chick fight' in school.  Turns out his school's pet chicks were fighting over food." In these moments, and these moments only, Facebook is an acceptable part of life.

Second of all, Twitter limits the character amounts on each update.  This cramps my jive.  I am kind of a loquacious, wordy writer, never happy with one sentence when I can have a hundred and nine.  Screw you, Twitter.  (There, see?  It's helping my brevity of prose already.)

And let's not even start with the business of tweeting by phone.  I have figured out how to delete the messages other people send me and that's it.  A couple times Josh insisted that I text him for some reason or another, and I couldn't figure out where the comma was, or how to make a capital letter, or how to make the sentence stop, and then when I finally just trailed off with the mother of all ee cummings run-ons I couldn't figure out how to send it, and I wound up accidentally leaving the "texting" section of the phone or whatever, which deleted my "iamwaitingatthedoctorsofficewillbehometomakedinnerokloveyou" and then I had to start all over.  Then again, that entire exercise officially explains 99.99% of my students' papers.

What got me into Twitter is that it allows me to more efficiently stalk the people I already stalk the old-fashioned Google way, like Keith Lockhart and The Stig.  And Michael J. Nelson, who I tweeted and HE TOTALLY TWEETED BACK, LOLBRBROTFLMFAO and I haven't heard back yet from the time I wrote him back after he asked me to write him back.  It was like this, okay:

@michaeljnelson Am attending a speech from Apollo 11 crew.Collins used to fly the Starfighter.Will ask him if he heard jazz during refueling.

(For those of you who are not MSTies, The Starfighters is a classic episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000.  The mocked film in question contains very little plot, even less acting, a young B-1 Bob Dornan, and approximately 89 minutes of F-104 refueling footage, over which the United States Air Force has lovingly laid several layers of cool jazz with male chorus.  It's worse than it sounds.  YOU MUST SEE THIS EPISODE.)

Anyway, The Nelson wrote back:

@BlondeChampagne Sweet! Where are you meeting Collins?

This unsheathed a social conundrum of angst and indecisiveness not seen since The Failed Text Message of Doom.  First of all, what time had he... what's the past tense of "tweet"?  Tw-- never mind.  When should I write him back?  The tweet invited a response, did it not?  It wasn't as if he'd stopped at the "Sweet!" or tacked on a "FBI is en route."   He'd directly asked for further information.

The issue was:  How soon?  Suddenly I was asking myself questions I thought I'd laid aside with my bachelorettedom:  Is making contact right away creepy?  Should I wait an hour?  How about two hours?  Twelve sounds good.  Oh, but wait, a twelve-hour pause would make for like a 4 AM tweet, and that in and of itself was creepy, right?  If I waited 24 hours, would the invitation to answer him expire?  Because in Twitter terms, a day is like a skillion years, correct?

Yeah, this tweeting thing, big communications improvement.

Anyway, I also favor Twitter over Facebook since anyone can read the updates without signing up, so that you, The Readers, can check up on how many times I've masticated my most recent Cheeto.  My page is here, Josh the Pilot's page is here, and for good measure poor electronically assailed Michael J. Nelson is here.  I"ll be updating every time I... um, update, here on Blonde Champagne or my byline pops up elsewhere.

Or,  just go eyeballs-right to catch up.  Click on the "Tweet Tweet!" for a full listing.  And if you're already on Twitter, come follow me (CREEPY, this Twitter thing is); I'm "BlondeChampagne," since someone else on the face of the Earth summoned the nerve to have my name and also a cell phone.

So that last part is basically what I came here to tell you, and I managed it in a mere... 801 words.  See you on a tiny little screen sometime, deeply constrained.

140 at:  mbe@drinktothelasses.com

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Reader Comments (7)

[...] Rockin’ Robin Tuesday, July 14th, 2009 | Blonde Champagne | morningworksmedia Fun with Mary Beth and Twitter [...]

The "Dear NASA" is pure awesomeness.

And No, I refuse to enter the Tweet world.

I feel that if I do, I might as well paste a computer monitor to my forehead with Krazy Glue, and forget all about Meatspace.

July 14, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterred pill junkie

no tweeting. waste enough time online already! But this was wonderfully funny.

July 15, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterstarnarcosis

MB, you are hilarious. Twitter is way too frenetic (or chaotic or ADHD...it's' just TOO MUCH) for me. I like wasting my time on Facebook. :)

July 15, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterKris


I checked out your page. I love your dearly but am just not ready to plunge into twitter, though I would make an awesome tweeter. Maybe when I get a cool new phone that all the kids already have and can be in touch at all times. I am with you on the 5 hours of real time is like 10 days of tweet time and it would just make me crazy trying to keep up.

Loved your posts though.

July 15, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterKelle Belle

None of you have to tweet back! Just sit back and behold as I find yet another time suck.

July 15, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterMB

Telling you that I'm "following" you now sounds creepy, but I guess that is what I'm doing.

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