I am so fucking trumped

I'll admit it, I'll fucking give in, my blog is far far insuperior. I just learned how half of Twitter works over the past month. The other half, I'm not so sure of how it works. Sometimes I believe I am responding to myself. On one end, that isn't half bad. Now when I make idiotic 4am comments, while ridiculously drunk, I am simply talking to myself and not an audience of twits. (That is the name for those who twitter, right?).

I also admit to not knowing what @whateverthefuckthenameofthepersonis means. I think it means 'at', as in @homeboy, being at homeboy or @Ididyourmomlastnight meaning 'at I did your mom last night'. Which to me is incredibly stupid and ridiculous.

I also hate myself at the moment because Diablo Cody, a person whose name I despise because it was so obviously contrived, and who has talent about writing about prego teens in a funny, sarcastic manner, managed to outhink, outdo and outwrite me in of all the fucking things, TWITTER.

Her gem: "Inspired by the Bellagio fountain, I applauded for my own sprinkler system today."

Damn fucking good line. I swear to god. My best one this week:

Another Person: "See, the rich always fuck the little people"
Me: "That's why I want to become rich, so I can fuck little people."

Diablo Cody:

"Watching Ace of Cakes. I want to drape everything in fondant and create a world-sized cake simulacrum."

Uses Simulacrum in TWITTER. I want to know, Diablo, El Devil, Evil One, I WANT TO KNOW, how much time do you spend thinking of what you Twitter. I think you stare at the screen counting up and down the number of letters you have in this modern, vile version of a haiku, and how the hell do you come up with it all?

Are you a poet?

Cause your shorthand is good. But I'm gonna be honest, Cody (Can I call you Cody?) I thought Juno wasn't all that. It was ok, but not worth the fame. You rode Superbad and the dying fumes of Arrested Development and the teenage need to see themselves reflected in a much cooler glow. But I have to say, damned good step up from stripping. Nice choice.

I want to face off with you in a knife fight, if you are actually El Diablo, you will win. Otherwise, I think I might have a shot. You choose the knives, I choose the location:

Olympic sized pool at 12 am.

all the rest of you buggers, wait until I lean out my car and flip you off.