by Stefanie Wilder-Taylor
Twitter can bite me. Yeah, I know, I know, get with the social media program or get left behind. It’s not like I don’t have a Twitter account. I do. I got my account about a year or so ago so that I could keep up with the Joneses (if it’s even called the Joneses –seeing as I know no one with the last name Jones and I’m way behind on hip terminology –I still use “phat” as an adjective) but I’m having trouble giving a shit about what anyone tweets or twats or twitters or whatever you call it. Whatever! I’m forty-three, I still refer to my iPod as a Walkman and please don’t bother correcting me, so I’m not going to burden myself with learning the correct twitter lingo.
The thing is, every time I go on twitter, I see the same ten people “talking” and I use the term “talking” loosely about their kids’ poop consistency or color and despite the warning that “this may be TMI” or the slightly self deprecating, LOL after the shit description, I find myself wondering, If it’s too much information, why bring it up?
Really, why talk about anything at all in 140 word increments? But definitely why that?
Am I just getting intolerant in my old age or is talking about your kid’s latest food allergy best saved for a phone chat with a girlfriend or for when you’re fishing for conversation ideas in the produce section of Trader Joe’s with that woman whose name you can’t remember but you vaguely recall your kids went to My Gym together in 2006? Because sure, when you’re confronted with a situation that absolutely begs for small talk then by all means, break out the poop chat, but otherwise, I don’t want to hear it.
This is what twitter feels like to me: small talk; line after line after line of boring small talk. I don’t like small talk. You’ll never hear anyone tweet anything like, “just got back from the clinic. Abortion went off without a hitch :)“ And they could too; it’s only 66 characters. But I suppose it would be inappropriate. So I wonder what I’m supposed to fill that blank space with because lately I’ve been twitter blocked which is like writer’s block but doesn’t require therapy or result in my house getting clean as an avoidance technique. But every day I do have new twitter followers so there is some sort of pressure to show I use the thing every once in awhile. I just can’t bear to be boring. The only thing worse than the TMI tweets is all the corporate advertising. It doesn’t help that I get offers from corporations inviting me to “have a conversation with your readers that somehow incorporates our products and helps moms and all consumers feel good about our brand” and that if I’m just willing to tweet/twat/twitter about their coffee maker/mac & cheese/robot vacuum there might be a little something in it for me –but not cash –no because that would be advertising. This is just conversation -one mom slipping her love of their product into regular girl talk –as if that’s not going to be sleazy and transparent. I don’t even know how to do that: “Hey, everyone. Big news: I just saw a unicorn! #Kraft #Whatmykidslove #Kraftmakessense” I’d much rather get paid cash to tweet/twat things like “If you don’t feed your kids mac&cheese you clearly don’t love them” and get paid five dollars. I’m not saying I’m not a whore, I’m just saying I’m a bad actor.
So I guess that’s my choice, read about a baby’s perfect stool or be bombarded with a company’s not so subliminal messages. No to mention, all the retweets on the same topic just by people I’m not even following. It’s very complicated. Just talking about this makes me long for a simpler time in technology where if we wanted to stay connected to our friends we just found them on Friendster! Come on! Can I get a whoop whoop? Is anyone “in the house?” Yes, this whole thing just makes me feel old, tired, bitchy and in need of more Botox. Hey, if you’re reading this good people of Botox, if you hook me up with a few vials, I will tweet/twat/twitter about you all day long! Follow me at @swildertaylor !