Today, at approximately 3:45 p.m. the husband called me at the office and we had the following conversation.
The husband: I just finished playing with Cindy.
Me: Excuse me?
The husband: Are you happy today?
The husband: Good. It makes me so happy to think of you so happy at work.
The husband: Do I sound drunk right now?
Me: Are you drunk?
The husband: No. Ooh! Ice pops!
What. The f*ck?
I can only assume that the reason the husband is drunk before 4 p.m. on a work day is because the world is ending.
Batten down the hatches, stock up on water - screw the water, stock up on wine, the apocalypse is coming! - wrap your house in cellophane and pick up your dry cleaning.
The end of the world is no excuse for dressing like a homeless hobo crack addict. If we're all going out, we're going out in style.
So how's it gonna happen? It won't be by meteor, or nuclear bomb or that Duggar clan that just won't stop reproducing.
It's going to be by me.
After thoughtful consideration and the advice of several of you, I'm going to start twittering. Tweeting? Twatting? I'm pretty sure that last one is the correct term.
That's right, there's going to be a whole lotta twatting going on. Speaking of twatting, you guys should prepare yourself for the excessive use of the word "twat" from this point forward. For those of you offended by that word, I am sorry. And also? Really? That offends you? Have you ever actually said that word out loud? Come on, all together now. Twat. Twat. One more time. Twwwaaat.
Is that not the most ridiculous sounding word in the English language?
No it's not ridiculous, it's offensive? Okay, here's what we're going to do. We're going to cure you of being offended by the most ridiculous sounding word ever. And then we can all move on to more important things. Like forming a coalition to ban the words moist and munch from the English language. You can't see me right now, but I'm dry heaving all over the place. And if you can see me - hello stalker! - do you think these panties match this bra? For those of you offended by the word panties - and I happen to know there are quite a few - we can add that word to the coalition too.
Back to The Twat. Hee hee. Twat. Doesn't it make you laugh just a little?
Okay, here we go. Say twat 1,000 times in a row.
Finished? Good. It's already starting to sound less offensive, right? Now start inserting the word twat into every day conversation.
At dinner... "Honey, can you please pass the twat?"
Twat = salt. How can you be offended by salt?
At work, coworker comes into your office and sits across from you to discuss 4th quarter financials or some other crap you could care less about... "Hold that thought Walter, I need to go warm my coffee in the twat."
Twat = microwave. You can't honestly tell me you're offended by the word "microwave."
At the store making an exchange..."This twat is too big for me. I'd like to exchange it for a smaller size."
In this case twat = twat. Hahahahaha! Just kidding, it equals sweater.
It's possible that I, too, have gotten drunk in preparation for the end of the world. AKA me twittering.
Why does me joining the twatosphere equal the end of the world? You must be new around here. Hello, and welcome. Read this post about how I don't get technology and check out this gem about the disaster that was me getting my own facebook page.
Considering that I have absolutely no idea what Twitter is - I think it has something to do with a bird? - I can only imagine the disaster this is going to be. As if I don't have enough to worry about - blog followers, facebook friends - now I have to worry about getting twitter followers. Better double up on my anxiety meds.
What exactly does one talk about on twitter? I sure hope you're allowed to say "twat" because I suspect my first 1400 tweets are going to go something like this:
Look at me! Twatting while peeing!
Twatting while swinging! Wee!
Twatting while extricating the squirrel that build its nest in my car's engine. True story.
Twatting while squatting! And you say I'm not a poet.
Twatting while twatting! Because redundancy completes me.
Twatting while weaving a tangled web of lies! Yeah I don't get it either.
And 1394 more tweets just like those.
My new friend Amber from wosushi whom I "met" on SheWrites (her blog is awesome, check it out or I will steal all your wine and then you'll have to go through the apocalypse without wine. And going through the apocalypse without wine is like going through the apocalypse without wine.) was sweet enough to try to help me through the torrent of confusion that surrounds the twitter world. She sent me a document of notes she took from a twitter chat. Unfortunately she forgot to send along a twit-terpreter because the hell?
Hashtag? Is that like a hashbrown? I loooove hashbrowns. But only the ones from McDonalds. If I ever figure out twitter maybe my first twat will be about my secret fantasy of filling a bathtub with McDonalds hashbrowns and diving in for a nice greasy hash bath. What? Who said that?
Great. Now the only thing I can think about are hashbrowns.
Thanks a lot Twitter.
The husband just said: You love that mango.
So follow me on twitter and watch it all go down.
If I can figure out how to set up my twatter account, that is.
Before the husband yells at me for saying he was drunk during regular work hours (he's his own boss, hope he doesn't get yelled at) let me just say that he was not drunk when he called me at work. I don't know why he cares so much about what people think...they're all going to be dead soon anyway. The world is ending, the husband.
UPDATED: I am now a twat. Follow me @SarcasmGoddess. Do it. It'll be like watching a train wreck. And who doesn't love that?
UPDATED Part 2: You guys don't actually want to follow me over there do you? Cuz if you do, you're not going to find me. Apparently @SarcasmGoddess only exists in my mind. If you are a twatter, tell me your twat name in the comments and then we can be twatter friends.
UPDATED Part 3: I have been twatting less than an hour and have received this message from Twitter no less than ten times: Error. We can process your request, but we choose not to. I'm a twat and Twitter's an asshole. Awesome.
UPDATED Part 4: Just received this message from Twitter: Twitter is over capacity. I'm choosing to believe it's due to all the thousands of people rushing to the twatosphere trying to follow me. Unfortunately for them, they're not going to find me cuz my twat is broken. See updated part 2.