@TwirpingTweetyTwodTwootie: Paper Dress, Stirrups. Yowzah.

I just signed up for Twitter. I'm not sure why - I think it was mostly because I was aware of the fact that I was avoiding it.

Twitter's pitch is "Real life happens between blog posts and emails."

Thank you for reminding me. I wasn't sure what all that superfluous stuff was, without anyone there to instantly validate me. Real life. Gotcha.

Little does Twitter know that between blog posts and emails, I pretty much just drink myself into a stupor. Not a lot of Twitter fodder there. Or "Twodder", if you will. My alcohol-induced comas are not Twittertastic.

I was able to check my Gmail, Hotmail, and Yahoo accounts and see which of my friends were already Twittering. Out of my hundreds of contacts, six of them twittered. Or send "tweets", as the kids are saying. My peeps and their tweets. This is sounding a little too Easter eggy for me. And the fact that I'll be 40 in a few short years, and am blogging about my tweeting peeps, is unnerving. At least I'm not still saying "posse".

Fo' shizzle.

So next week, when I have an appointment with the gynie, if I tweet about it via a text message, does that become "twattering"?

I'm just sayin'.