Twits, Tweets and Night Vision Goggles

Before I get to my much talked about Twitter shame, I just wanted to say that I thought the Michael Jackson memorial service today was nicely done, weird at times but touching. The only problem I had was when Stevie Wonder came on to sing and I freaked because I thought he was dead. Realizing only moments later I was confusing him with Ray Charles. Go ahead, judge away. I am a terrible person.

So I was messing around on Google the other day and happened to realize that Twitter accounts show up on Google searches. Rather than Google search everyone I was friends with so I would know who to no longer be friends with, I decided to briefly join Twitter to see what all the fuss was about. I refused to use my real name on the off chance someone would be searching for me in the four minutes I was a member and would try to follow me and my made-up account.

To my utter amazement, Twitter asked me if I would like to import my gmail contacts to see which of my "friends" had Twitter accounts. Yes I would like to import my contacts, Twitter. Thank you for asking. What I found was well, astonishing, surprising, and mildly hurtful. Friends I never thought would tweet were following people and being followed by people. As I clicked on each former friend, I grew more and more confused as to the appeal of Twitter.

Unlike facebook which has a nice, happy, standard blue background, twits are able to pick their own background ala myspace. This of course leads to many vomit inducing screens illustrating just why many of my gmail contacts should be on "What Not to Wear." So although it is myspace-esque, allowing twits the freedom to chose their own backgrounds (a freedom that I strongly oppose), it does not allow for picture posting perhaps in an effort to tone down the pedophile appeal of the once popular myspace. (Maybe still popular myspace? How should I know? Do I look like a 14 year old girl?)

Which leads me to wonder, is Twitter really just myspace but less popular among perverts? After much debate, I realized the answer was a resounding no. Twits post their every move on their nauseating homepages making it a stalker's paradise. So although Twitter may cut down on the success of "To Catch a Predator," it does finds its niche with the lazy stalker and the perv who likes a challenge. A demographic, I must admit, that has been wholeheartedly ignored in the past.

All in all my four minutes spent as a twit were not the worst four minutes of my life, but are four minutes that sadly, I will never get back. Although many loyal twits swear by the glorious powers of Twitter, I for one am an old fashion gal and prefer to do things the hard way. Who needs tweeted updates when you can sit in a car parked across the street, cup of coffee, a donut and a pair of high powered night vision goggles waiting for his car to pull in his driveway? Sigh. Those were the days.