Tweet to be square.

Twitter. I have been tweeting for quite some time, and one thing that drives me absolutely crazy... people who follow me and when I go visit them to see if I want to follow them back, they have no updates. Zero, Nada, a big goose egg, and there is nothing to tell me anything about them. Who are these people? I'm not going to follow a "nobody" and I'm not talking about everyday people here. I'm talking about the invisible people who have twitter accounts. How does a nobody get a twitter account and become a somebody?

Speaking of nobodies, celebrities are getting in on it. Think Oprah when she started tweeting. Some celebrities have ghost twitterers.

I also don't follow people with thousands upon thousands of followers when they only have a few updates. What is the point?

People, just an FYI, not everyone wants to hear about when you need to go to the bathroom. Jeez, if that was the case, that's all I would be tweeting. Drinking another cup of coffee. Heading to the bathroom. Getting another glass of water. Heading to the bathroom. Making new earrings. Heading to the bathroom. Do you see my point? No, I do not have a bladder problem. Drinking problem, yes.

Do you twitter? Do you follow people just to have them follow you back? Are you only interested in watching your follower list rise in numbers? Are you obsessed with how many followers you have?

Twit is twitter without the ter. Are you a twit if you twitter? Some might be.

Definition of Twit.

Main Entry:

¹twit

Pronunciation:

\ˈtwit\

Function:

noun

Date:

1528

1 : an act of twitting : taunt
2 : a silly annoying person : fool

You can follow me. tweet, tweet.

It went like this...

Blake: (yelling in a muffled tone) Mom! I need you!

Me: Yes, Blake (speaking loudly, well alright, yelling back).

B: I need you.

Me: What for? Where are you?

Erika: (snickering) He's in the bathroom.

Me: (at the bathroom door) Blake, are you okay?

B: No, I need you.

Me: (trying the door, its locked) Honey, can you open the door?

B: No, can you get one of the fluffy things... and just... (more words that I cannot make out, is his head in the toilet?)

Me: What fluffy thing? (what the hell is going on in there?)

B: You know the stick with the squishy white stuff on the end?

Me: (Good lord, this could take forever) I don't know what you're talking about. Can you open the door?

B: You know the stick you put in your ear. You take one and take off some of that white fluffy and put that in the door.

Me: Huh? You mean a Q-tip? (Where in the world is he going with this?)

B: Yes, take some of the white stuff off and then put it in the door.

Me: I don't understand. Why do I need to do this? You want me to place it under the door?

B: No, in the little hole and push it in. Hurry, I need you.

Me: (Finally! I'm beginning to see where he's going with this). Oh, okay. Hold on, I gotta go get one. (I run to the kitchen, turn down the stove so our dinner will not burn, ask Erika to watch it, race upstairs with the dog chasing after me, and find a Q-tip). I get one, remove most of the white fluffy from one end, and insert it in the hole in the doorknob and ta da! the door unlocks. I go in to see him sitting on the toilet moaning about his tummy. I say "Are you alright?"

B: Yes, but I just can't move, my tummy aches. Can you carry me?

Me: Carry you? Are you kidding? You're 7 years old. You need to wash up and come to the table, dinner is just about ready. Do you need me for anything else.

B: No, I think I can do it. What's for dinner?



All that because he wanted me to unlock the door, go into the bathroom and see him? Or did he want to see me?

Boys are little men in need of a female's attention. They can't seem to do anything by themselves. I'm trying to raise my son to be independent. Where am I going wrong? Are we suppose to read their minds?