Yeah, it's Twitter, I know. I know. But I did just call it "Tweeter" by mistake (a mix-up of "Twitter" and"tweeting," that's all, for crying out loud) and garnered the mockery of my tech-savvy husband.
The title refers to Bradley, not me. I think Twitter is stupid. Sorry to offend if I have offended. Well, not that sorry, b/c I do think it's stupid. Maybe I just don't get it. I mean, for sure, I don't get it. And maybe that's the only reason I think it's dumb; then again, maybe not. Maybe it just is dumb.
Anyway, we're sitting at Starbucks presently, and my dear hubby announces, "I think maybe I'll start doing Twitter."
Me: twitching, half-laughing, trying to appraise his seriousness-level.
This man I am sitting across from with whom I share a home and cats and myriad other things just said to me, only half-jokingly (and how I wish it were more than half), "It's a revolution in communication."
I sigh. Were we not in public, I would weep. He's not interested in blogging, but this whole Twitter thing is, somehow, appealing. He says he wants to use it, at least in part, professionally. I have no idea what that means, and he hasn't quite articulated what that means. Does this mean he doesn't know what that means? What do I mean? What does the universe mean? What do I mean by "mean"? Okay, now I'm being unnecessarily silly.
Anyway, my husband may soon become the next Mr. Twitter, joining the ranks of Demi Moore, Jim Carey, and apparently a host of "profressionals" who are tweeting about who-knows-what. Will that make me Mrs. Twitter? I really, really hate the sound of that . . .