Twitter
2
. . . I can't think of a single person whose thoughts are so interesting that I'm compelled to get an update 24 hours a day in 160-character increments. Not even my husband ( . . . actually, ESPECIALLY my husband. If you knew him, you'd understand.) And I'm not even going to pretend that I have anything that interesting to say that I'd go streaming it:
"6:30am: Woke up. Hit Snoozebar."
"6:39am: Woke up again. Hit Snoozebar."
"6:48am: Woke up. Again. Snoozebar. Again."
"6:52am: Cat jumps on me. Walks on me until she gets to my face. Demands breakfast."
"6:53am: Cat walks down to my abdomen and starts that kneading thing. Right where my bladder is. Now I gotta get up to go to the bathroom."
"6:55am: Cat demands breakfast at the bathroom door."
"6:57am: Putting in my contacts, get startled by alarm clock I forgot to turn off. Drop contact. Dammit."
Seriously, if you want to write a play-by-play of your life for your own purposes, go for it. I'll skip on the subscription, though.