Friday, March 8, 2013

Tweets of the Damned

When it comes to new technologies and technology trends, my husband and I aren’t early adopters.  We’re more like what-is-that-I-think-I-heard-about-that-six-months-ago-let’s-wait-another-year-before-we-try-it adopters.  So, this is a long and roundabout way of telling you that he and I got ourselves some Twitter accounts not too long ago. 

No one is following us. 

I mean no one.

But, we do follow each other.  

So, for a while, we just tweeted semi-witty or hare-brained things and giggled to ourselves about it.  Then we discovered that we could tweet back and forth to each other.  Kind of a Twitter conversation.  And it was stupid.  And silly.  But fun.  It made us feel witty and clever.

And I figured no one but us would get it or think it was funny.  But, somehow, I think our Twitter dialogues tell you something about our relationship.  And they might make you laugh.  Also, well, maybe someone besides just us will think we are funny. 

So, I share with you, CRAP QUINTEN AND I SAY TO EACH OTHER ON TWITTER:

1. Quinten and I are trying really hard not to eat too many sweets or between-meal snacks.  Sometimes, I am not very helpful in this regard:

Quinten: That’s 5 cupcakes and 3 tins of cookies at work left over from a Friday birthday.  I could eat it all.  I WILL NOT EAT ANY!
Me: Ummmm….I have a message from a Mister Cup Cake. He says he’s in the break room waiting for you? Is there something I should know?
Quinten: Don’t listen to that sumbitch. He’s a liar. He tells half-truths. He’s tricksy, that one. I haven’t eaten one of his kind since Friday.
Me: Iris has a message for you: “YOU ATE A CUT-CAKE WITHOUT ME?!?!?!??!?!?!!!!!???”
Q: Damn. You caught me.

 2.  Quinten got a cold last week.  He was kind of angry and whiny about it.  I was not particularly sympathetic:

Quinten: I cannot smell one god damn thing. Going to be a great day!
Me: Can you smell things that are not damned by God?
Me: Like, for example, I’m pretty sure God approves of popcorn, so could you smell that?
Me: And I have it on good authority that God actually likes my perfume, so could you smell that?
Me: But burnt plastic…I’m fairly certain that smell would offend God…so you can’t smell burnt plastic, right?
Me: Seems like a pretty good deal for you.
Me: Also, am I going to hell now?
Quinten: I’ll be there with you so at least you won’t be lonely.

 3.  I was punished for my lack of sympathy when I, too, was infected with the cold.  At first, my cold seemed to be more mild than Quinten’s so I could joke about it:

Quinten: The colds my wife and I share take on personalities and develop emotions. Our current cold, named “Rico,” hates us, and wants us to die.
Quinten: Our last cold, named “Barbara,” loved us, and wanted us to die. I sense a theme.
Me: Remember “Sal”? He was so disappointed in you. Because you wouldn’t die.
Me: And “Regina”? She was so happy. Until she realized we weren’t going to die. Then she was just mean.

4.  Then the cold, Rico, got so much worse and I was miserable.  Quinten gets whiny when he gets a cold.  I just get mean.  I blamed Quinten.  After all, he gave me the cold.

Me: Rico is killing me and I kind of hate you now.
Quinten: Blame Rico, he’s the one being a dick. He doesn’t care about us at all. He’s a horrible pathogen.
Me: Rico should be required to come here and potty train Iris as a punishment.
Quinten: Rico doesn’t have hands.
Me: (here is where I got instantly and absurdly irate that Rico did not have hands.  Which is insane because Rico is not real. Anyway, I was tired and sick and I just lashed out)  Fuck him! That’s not my problem! He’ll have to figure it out, dammit!
 
5.  Then I just started feeling sorry for myself.  And, for the record, this particular Twitter conversation took place while Quinten and I were on separate laptop computers in the same room.  Because we are ridiculous.

Me: When I am sick, I shouldn’t have to come up with a nutritious meal for everyone. I should get to eat chocolate pudding and go to bed.
Quinten: We’ve just eaten two cupcakes. Does that count?
Me: You have to chew cupcakes. You do not have to chew chocolate pudding. So, no, cupcakes don’t count.
Quinten: That’s fair. I think I’ve been lawyered.

And now you will either think we are cute, or that we are nuts.  Actually, we’re never quite sure which it is, ourselves.

2 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Well, you're the one who said you barely ever use twitter. And you'he never given me any reason to believe you're actually reading. And, c'mon...you're my brother...

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