Seriously - what the fuck is with Twitter?

Okay - so this is going to totally make me sound like a cranky old man on a porch - but here it is. I just don’t fucking get twitter.

I can sort of see the merit in following news feeds, maybe your family (but then I think - why not just log into CNN.com and read full stories, or call or email your family?) but following your friends, celebrities and strangers?

The whole thing just seems so narcissistic. I would never get an account - for a few reasons - but one of the big ones is that I am pretty sure no one cares what I have to say. Maybe I am just not interesting enough? But I have gone on the site and followed celebrity twitter feeds to try and figure out what I am missing - and you know what - even their feeds are boring.

I was in a meeting at work this morning - at a table that was heavy on the 29 and below demographic - and this one woman states - in a very matter-of-fact way - that "if you are in PR and you don’t understand twitter, four square, fliker (and then a few names I am pretty sure she just made up to see if us 29 and above demographic were still awake) then you don’t belong in PR."

Those of us in the 29 and above demographic just sat there nodding our heads and thinking - "what the hell did that baby just say? I don’t want to single my geriatric ass out so even though I totally did not get anything she just said - I am going to nod emphatically and be all hell yes!"

Four Square seems like a perfect way to get robbed - and in my opinion was probably invented by robbers who got their asses thrown into jail, signed up for computer training while in the big house - and then were like - "Holy shit! What if we invented this site where dumb ass people can on and say where they are...we could TOTALLY go rob their houses while they were gone!"

My preschoolers can out maneuver me on the iPad and have locked me out of my cell phone a few times. I remember watching my mom try and program the time on the microwave and figure out how to auto record on the VCR – and thinking "how hard is it for Christ’s sake woman – step aside and let me do it!"

I swore it would never happen to me – but at the age of 36 – I feel like I have officially become the feeble minded old woman in the room.

Rainy Saturday morning

I love rainy Saturdays - always have. There is something so cozy and comforting about them. They make me feel like curling up on the couch with a book, having naps, and maybe baking something. Then - finish the day off with take-out and a snuggle on the couch while we watch a movie.

Then we had kids. And now rainy Saturdays now fill me with fear and panic.

"What in the hell are we going to do to tire them out and entertain them! Would it totally trash the floor and the walls if we let them ride their bikes in here? If we push the couches out of the way - I think the bouncy house will fit."

Currently, Max and Molly are upstairs jumping on Max's bed. And I know the crying will start shortly, and someone will wipe out and smack their head, and there may, or may not be a trip to the hospital.

This is a truth of having kids. You will dread things you used to love, you will do shit you never would have done pre-kid (without being half in the bag anyway), you will openly talk about shit - actual shit - like it is the most fascinating stuff to ever leave your child (I added this because I literally just finished asking my husband about Max's crap this morning) and you can kiss relaxing rainy Saturdays goodbye. 

We have a kid's birthday party to go to this afternoon - and I am hoping the entertainment is a step aerobics instructor - or maybe a baby bootcamp class.

My first post...I feel like a kid in kindergarten

I have always wanted to write a book, or maybe even just a column in a local paper, but life has just never gone that way.

Where it has gone is to a life lived in the suburbs. I work full time in the public relations industry, so I guess I do get to write daily and for a living, but it just isn't the same. It isn't what I would call a creative outlet. Don't get me wrong - I like my job, and am grateful that I have it. But if I was to write what I really thought, or speak how I really speak, I would be escorted from the property. So, pay cheque - yes, creative outlet - no.

Which brings me here. And it is kind of scary. It feels a little bit like standing in front of the classroom, introducing myself, and asking you all to like me, and like me enough that you keep coming back here to read what I have to say. I hope you like me.