The problem with Twitter is that I now think thoughts in 140 characters.
And I'm not sure if that line was 140 or not,
but if there was a counter under it
and it was over 140 characters
I would edit it down to the bare sentiment.
That's a sad thing.
No luxuriously beautiful, superfluous adjectives.
Just Joe Fridays from here on out;
The facts and nothing but the brief facts.
I run 4 twitter accounts.
That's 4 outlets of 140 character thoughts that I update each on average about 2 times a day.
12 times a day, 140 character thoughts.
There's my personal/comedian twitter - @thesuefunke
This is where I talk about what's going on in my life.
Spew out 140 characters of a witty observation.
It's my mini "The Sue Funke" me.
On my @thesuefunke account I keep my friends. These are mostly people who if I ran into on the street I would know and say hello to, possibly even embrace because I can be "a hugger" sometimes.
Why is it that I'm holding out on my pals? Why am I limiting our exchanges to 140 letters?
Well, if I have something I really want to say that's longer - I will just update my facebook status to let everyone know.
Why don't I just call my friends?
I don't have time to call them. I'll just text them.
There - in 160 letters I've said how I truly feel, kinda...with even more horrible spelling and grammar.
I miss my grammar skills.
I used to be so adept at grammar that I would diagram sentences for fun, because I was so good at it.
I would sit back and be pleased with myself for understanding where the clauses were.
I knew the proper places for punctuation.
Now, I am constantly catching myself making the simplest grammar errors.
Ones that if I saw my friends do in my Great Grammar Glory Days
I would've scoffed at
and made fun of others for making.
My mind pushed these facts out so I could learn new, faster ways to communicate.
My second twitter feed was meant to promote my second blog - http://ILoveTVMoreThanYou.com (@ILuvTVMoreThanU)
But instead, it's me just "re-tweeting" other people's updates about all the cool TV stuff I'm finding out.
I'm pushing out more words, more grammar lessons.
And I feel the need to tell everyone about it in a 140 character story...
I digress
-Thanks to the old fashion form of bloggery I write upon right now.
I have stopped updating my long form blogs lately, and have shifted my focus on clever tweets.
Which, as a busy person,
who is a little self centered, and wants to share it
is a wonderful thing.
Then, I got two more twitter accounts for the newsletters I'm writing at work
((PLUG!
click on or copy http://talk.about.com/
and sign up for The Shopping List and Screening Room))
So, I spend part of my day updating @Shopping_List
and @Screening_Room
and now it's all 140 bits
and pieces
and fragments
of thoughts, that somehow I feel need to be publicized.
It's so simple to get into the mundane tweeting practice.
To want to tell people where you are and what you're doing.
If it's somehow funny, even better.
If there's a good link - everyone should know!
And I feel my brain capacity shifting.
It's shifting away from full conversations.
I find myself not able to say the entire word totally.
"Totes!"
It's not only more efficient, but adorable...or adorbs! even.
So, maybe it's not Twitter's fault.
Maybe it's just time.
We don't have enough time to do all we want/need so we feel the need to abbreviate life.
I'd expound upon this more,
but really
I've used far too many characters already.
Showing posts with label stupid girls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stupid girls. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Shorten it, Shorten it NOW!
For the past few weeks my hair has done nothing. It's been like this limp, lame thing.
I look in the mirror and feel like I've got a David Cassidy circa Partridge Family crossed with a sheep dog hair style.
I'm not really that girly.
Honestly.
But when it comes to my locks, I have some major opinions. You might recall this if you read my ordeal about going back to my natural color.
I came into the office this morning miserable about my stupid hair. I hid it under my big flappy Annie Hall hat and scurried through the halls wishing it was different.
Then, I realized it was pay day and the place where I get my hair cut is right around the corner. So, I booked it on a quick break to run in and book the appointment, didn't take lunch, left at 4:30 and now I have chin length hair. It feels sooo much better.
What a different an inch or two makes.
I look in the mirror and feel like I've got a David Cassidy circa Partridge Family crossed with a sheep dog hair style.
I'm not really that girly.
Honestly.
But when it comes to my locks, I have some major opinions. You might recall this if you read my ordeal about going back to my natural color.
I came into the office this morning miserable about my stupid hair. I hid it under my big flappy Annie Hall hat and scurried through the halls wishing it was different.
Then, I realized it was pay day and the place where I get my hair cut is right around the corner. So, I booked it on a quick break to run in and book the appointment, didn't take lunch, left at 4:30 and now I have chin length hair. It feels sooo much better.
What a different an inch or two makes.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Jessica Simpson's Acting Career
She is no Goldie Hawn.
Skip this movie and watch Private Benjamin. Oooh! and then Protocol.
I smell a movie marathon...
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Returning to My Roots
In an impulsive, yet well thought out move, yesterday, I went to the salon by my office and got my hair dyed to match my roots.
For the past four years I’ve highlighted my hair. I was going to Long Island and spending money like I actually had it. It was my girly splurge that I really enjoyed. Lately though, I feel like I need to change situations and I’m stuck in the mud. So, instead of moping I figured I could act upon my hair.
It’s weird because I really did enjoy my lighter hair, but as soon as Sam, my wonderfully flamboyant and wine-pushing hair stylist, dried my hair I felt like I was seeing me again. I have spent much more of my life with a natural brown-toned hair color than without it. I was so happy to see me, I smiled with my eyes.
For those of you who do not understand how one could even do such a thing, I recommend watching America’s Next Top Model. There will most likely be a marathon on this weekend; don’t make any plans. Just sit there and watch Tyra Banks teach you that with just a little squint of your lower lid and widening of your upper lid you can show your inner happiness. Either that or just go back to your natural color.
I should also note that I got my hair done next to a “celebrity”. That’s right folks. The woman getting the white bleach applied to her roots has been seen on Maury and CNN because of her roots in a crazy sex cult. She is now a dancer at Scores. I was talking to the owner of the salon about this and said, “good for her, it’s competitive to get in there. She must’ve paid a lot for that body. I couldn’t do it, but it’s probably good money.” He then reminded me that it’s hard work: 9-5 on a pole. Well, at least she can afford her roots to be touched up on the regular.
We all have our priorities.
For the past four years I’ve highlighted my hair. I was going to Long Island and spending money like I actually had it. It was my girly splurge that I really enjoyed. Lately though, I feel like I need to change situations and I’m stuck in the mud. So, instead of moping I figured I could act upon my hair.
It’s weird because I really did enjoy my lighter hair, but as soon as Sam, my wonderfully flamboyant and wine-pushing hair stylist, dried my hair I felt like I was seeing me again. I have spent much more of my life with a natural brown-toned hair color than without it. I was so happy to see me, I smiled with my eyes.
For those of you who do not understand how one could even do such a thing, I recommend watching America’s Next Top Model. There will most likely be a marathon on this weekend; don’t make any plans. Just sit there and watch Tyra Banks teach you that with just a little squint of your lower lid and widening of your upper lid you can show your inner happiness. Either that or just go back to your natural color.
I should also note that I got my hair done next to a “celebrity”. That’s right folks. The woman getting the white bleach applied to her roots has been seen on Maury and CNN because of her roots in a crazy sex cult. She is now a dancer at Scores. I was talking to the owner of the salon about this and said, “good for her, it’s competitive to get in there. She must’ve paid a lot for that body. I couldn’t do it, but it’s probably good money.” He then reminded me that it’s hard work: 9-5 on a pole. Well, at least she can afford her roots to be touched up on the regular.
We all have our priorities.
Monday, October 08, 2007
Scott's Finest Moment
One night at the Four Faced Liar while I was still a smoker,
I went out for cigarettes between waters. While I was gone my pals Ben and J watched Jennie Smash's and my spots at the bar. We had two stools in front of the TV, a coveted corner that we came early to grab.
On cigarette break three or four two skanks walked into the bar. Now, I'm not really being mean here, you call a plum a plum just like you have to call a skank a skank. And when girls look this trashy and act this dumb, the appropriate term is skank. These skanks took our seats.
"Excuse me, I was saving those for our friends. You'll have to get up when they get back." Ben said to the skanks.
"Sure thing!" said the skanks.
But when we came back the skanks were chatting it up with their pals. I tapped one on the shoulder and asked her to keep her word she had given to Ben.
"No, we're not moving. Your loss."
I didn't want to start a fight just then. So, I did what any normal person would do in this situation and mocked the skanks.
"Oh Jen, we can't sit down. The skanks need the stools."
"Oh, it's ok it's because they have AIDS, actually I think they have double AIDS, " Jen replies.
Roommate Tom walks over and asks us what the problem is, we tell him about the double AIDS skanks.
"WHORES." Tom says loudly with his typical emotion, deadpan. We then realize that these girls are with two men and fear that now that Tom is involved there will be fighting. The guys stare at us, but do nothing. As if to say, "Yeah, we know they are skanky girls, but this is why we are with them." We took this as open season to mock the girls every chance we could till we bored of it.
And since our humor is similar to our attention span, like an 11 year old ADHD kid, we tired quickly of mocking the seat stealing skanks.
We watched the Met game.
Now, this is when the Mets really started tanking. I mean they were going down faster than a Thai hooker. It was horrible to watch, and in the 8th inning when things were getting close and we blew it again, I got myself a Guiness.
I get drunk quickly. I mean 1/4 of the way into the beer and I'm slurring and kinda non-responsive to my friends droning and moaning about the game.
This is when one of the skanks hops off the stool to hug a dude who came in.
I see my opportunity.
I wait until she's about to sit back down, and when she's like one step away from planting a butt cheek - I kick the stool and hop on it.
Now, yes, this was an obnoxious thing to do.
But the skanks response, was so far out of line that it made me look totally in the right.
They start screaming like banshies, "SHE WAS ABOUT TO SIT DOWN! WHAT THE F*&^K ARE YOU DOING YOU #&%&@$(@%*!! GIVE IT BACK! GET UP YOU @#$#$~! STAND UP, JUST STAND UP YOU ARE SUCH A #$@%$@! WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!!"
I calmly turn to them and say, "I'm taking back the stool that you stole from me."
"YOU WENT FOR A CIGARETTE, YOU LOST IT, GET UP @#$*!!! JUST GET THE @#$^t@$ UP RIGHT NOW YOU #@%$@!!!" the skank says as she screams right in my face.
"Ladies, you're obviously menstrual and that's fine. I understand. But here's the thing, I'm old, much older than you. And you don't understand this yet, but when you get older you get tired of standing and need to take a sit. So, I'm gonna take my sit, drink my beer, hope my team doesn't tank, and when I'm ready - shouldn't take too long, I'll get up from my sit and you can put your young little tuckus down on it. OK?"
"NO THAT IS NOT OK. NO!!!! NOOOOO! GET UP! I'M NOT MENSTRUAL, YOU GET THE @#*$* UP! STAND UP !#@r$$@!"
Now, at this point they are screaming so loud that the entire bar is just watching and it's ridiculous because they're practically climbing on the bar to get in my face and I turn to stare at the cocktail waitress who is looking from the girls to me in disbelief. We're speechless, these girls are obviously drunk and somewhat unstable.
All I can say is, "Wow. Wow."
The cocktail waitress laughs and nods, but is unable to speak still because the skanks immediately retaliate, "YOU DON'T SAY WOW TO HER!"
"DON'T SAY WOW TO ME! DON'T SAY WOW!"
And as they screetch about the word wow, Scott moves in for the win.
He pulls up a bar stool and sets it down next to me and says, "Here Sue, you can sit here so you can watch the game in peace."
I thank him and move myself to the new stool, I had made my point.
But then, Scott goes back and gets another stool and puts next to the girls who are still all riled up and says, "Here and I got a stool for your attitude." He places the stool between the girls and steps back.
"Thank you, we need it." says the now blatantly obvious stupid skank.
Kate, Scott's girl friend, put it best when she said, "Ya know Scott can be pretty corny, but that was freakin' awesome!"
And we all agreed that it really was Scott's finest moment.
I went out for cigarettes between waters. While I was gone my pals Ben and J watched Jennie Smash's and my spots at the bar. We had two stools in front of the TV, a coveted corner that we came early to grab.
On cigarette break three or four two skanks walked into the bar. Now, I'm not really being mean here, you call a plum a plum just like you have to call a skank a skank. And when girls look this trashy and act this dumb, the appropriate term is skank. These skanks took our seats.
"Excuse me, I was saving those for our friends. You'll have to get up when they get back." Ben said to the skanks.
"Sure thing!" said the skanks.
But when we came back the skanks were chatting it up with their pals. I tapped one on the shoulder and asked her to keep her word she had given to Ben.
"No, we're not moving. Your loss."
I didn't want to start a fight just then. So, I did what any normal person would do in this situation and mocked the skanks.
"Oh Jen, we can't sit down. The skanks need the stools."
"Oh, it's ok it's because they have AIDS, actually I think they have double AIDS, " Jen replies.
Roommate Tom walks over and asks us what the problem is, we tell him about the double AIDS skanks.
"WHORES." Tom says loudly with his typical emotion, deadpan. We then realize that these girls are with two men and fear that now that Tom is involved there will be fighting. The guys stare at us, but do nothing. As if to say, "Yeah, we know they are skanky girls, but this is why we are with them." We took this as open season to mock the girls every chance we could till we bored of it.
And since our humor is similar to our attention span, like an 11 year old ADHD kid, we tired quickly of mocking the seat stealing skanks.
We watched the Met game.
Now, this is when the Mets really started tanking. I mean they were going down faster than a Thai hooker. It was horrible to watch, and in the 8th inning when things were getting close and we blew it again, I got myself a Guiness.
I get drunk quickly. I mean 1/4 of the way into the beer and I'm slurring and kinda non-responsive to my friends droning and moaning about the game.
This is when one of the skanks hops off the stool to hug a dude who came in.
I see my opportunity.
I wait until she's about to sit back down, and when she's like one step away from planting a butt cheek - I kick the stool and hop on it.
Now, yes, this was an obnoxious thing to do.
But the skanks response, was so far out of line that it made me look totally in the right.
They start screaming like banshies, "SHE WAS ABOUT TO SIT DOWN! WHAT THE F*&^K ARE YOU DOING YOU #&%&@$(@%*!! GIVE IT BACK! GET UP YOU @#$#$~! STAND UP, JUST STAND UP YOU ARE SUCH A #$@%$@! WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!!"
I calmly turn to them and say, "I'm taking back the stool that you stole from me."
"YOU WENT FOR A CIGARETTE, YOU LOST IT, GET UP @#$*!!! JUST GET THE @#$^t@$ UP RIGHT NOW YOU #@%$@!!!" the skank says as she screams right in my face.
"Ladies, you're obviously menstrual and that's fine. I understand. But here's the thing, I'm old, much older than you. And you don't understand this yet, but when you get older you get tired of standing and need to take a sit. So, I'm gonna take my sit, drink my beer, hope my team doesn't tank, and when I'm ready - shouldn't take too long, I'll get up from my sit and you can put your young little tuckus down on it. OK?"
"NO THAT IS NOT OK. NO!!!! NOOOOO! GET UP! I'M NOT MENSTRUAL, YOU GET THE @#*$* UP! STAND UP !#@r$$@!"
Now, at this point they are screaming so loud that the entire bar is just watching and it's ridiculous because they're practically climbing on the bar to get in my face and I turn to stare at the cocktail waitress who is looking from the girls to me in disbelief. We're speechless, these girls are obviously drunk and somewhat unstable.
All I can say is, "Wow. Wow."
The cocktail waitress laughs and nods, but is unable to speak still because the skanks immediately retaliate, "YOU DON'T SAY WOW TO HER!"
"DON'T SAY WOW TO ME! DON'T SAY WOW!"
And as they screetch about the word wow, Scott moves in for the win.
He pulls up a bar stool and sets it down next to me and says, "Here Sue, you can sit here so you can watch the game in peace."
I thank him and move myself to the new stool, I had made my point.
But then, Scott goes back and gets another stool and puts next to the girls who are still all riled up and says, "Here and I got a stool for your attitude." He places the stool between the girls and steps back.
"Thank you, we need it." says the now blatantly obvious stupid skank.
Kate, Scott's girl friend, put it best when she said, "Ya know Scott can be pretty corny, but that was freakin' awesome!"
And we all agreed that it really was Scott's finest moment.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Girls who hate Girls
The other night I ran into a girl
who for some reason hates me.
She spoke to me in the phony voice:
you know, the kind where the eyebrows lift and the smile is flat
and the ingenious of the words, "great to see you," are so pointed that you feel as if you can see them slice through the air as if they are daggers meant to cut you.
I don't know what I did to provoke this.
It was upsetting for me, because I hadn't seen her for a long time
and didn't recall us parting on bad terms.
I was even more perplexed because I had corresponded with her recently
and she seemed quite kind,
but maybe I just couldn't read the sarcasm.
I asked my other friend who saw this display,
"What's up with that frost?"
She replied,
"She's just one of those girls who hates girls"
...
but I'm totally not a girly girl!
I always hang out with guys,
because I usually prefer the male hang out session to the female.
Male hang out session: Hang out, watch tv, talk about tv program/sports
Female hang out session: Hang out, watch tv, talk about how we feel about everything and everyone.
I'm not dissing on the female hang out sessions, but I more often prefer the male hang out.
But I'm not gonna be mean to girls because of this.
My friend agreed, but said that this girl in particular
just hates girls.
It's her thing.
This behavior reminded me of a time that I once told my friend, Erica Watson
that I hated white people.
And she said, "You should never hate your own kind, because really you're just hating yourself."
Maybe this girl just hates herself.
Don't get me wrong here,
there are some girls who just drive me nuts,
but I don't hate all of them.
Nor do I fire off the dagger tongue unless they pricked me first.
My point here is,
don't discriminate so blindly,
wait for me to do something mean to you*,
then treat me cruel.
*You'll probably end up waiting a long time. I work hard at not being mean to others since I believe in karma.
who for some reason hates me.
She spoke to me in the phony voice:
you know, the kind where the eyebrows lift and the smile is flat
and the ingenious of the words, "great to see you," are so pointed that you feel as if you can see them slice through the air as if they are daggers meant to cut you.
I don't know what I did to provoke this.
It was upsetting for me, because I hadn't seen her for a long time
and didn't recall us parting on bad terms.
I was even more perplexed because I had corresponded with her recently
and she seemed quite kind,
but maybe I just couldn't read the sarcasm.
I asked my other friend who saw this display,
"What's up with that frost?"
She replied,
"She's just one of those girls who hates girls"
...
but I'm totally not a girly girl!
I always hang out with guys,
because I usually prefer the male hang out session to the female.
Male hang out session: Hang out, watch tv, talk about tv program/sports
Female hang out session: Hang out, watch tv, talk about how we feel about everything and everyone.
I'm not dissing on the female hang out sessions, but I more often prefer the male hang out.
But I'm not gonna be mean to girls because of this.
My friend agreed, but said that this girl in particular
just hates girls.
It's her thing.
This behavior reminded me of a time that I once told my friend, Erica Watson
that I hated white people.
And she said, "You should never hate your own kind, because really you're just hating yourself."
Maybe this girl just hates herself.
Don't get me wrong here,
there are some girls who just drive me nuts,
but I don't hate all of them.
Nor do I fire off the dagger tongue unless they pricked me first.
My point here is,
don't discriminate so blindly,
wait for me to do something mean to you*,
then treat me cruel.
*You'll probably end up waiting a long time. I work hard at not being mean to others since I believe in karma.
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