“What do you mean you’re not on Twitter?”
David was staring at me, slack-jawed and wide-eyed as he finished the above question. His reaction was as if I’ve just told him that I don’t enjoy having a woman blow me, or that even though I’m a meat eater I think that bacon is crap. The thing is that it’s a no-brainer to me; I don’t need to broadcast my every thought every moment that I thought it. Sure I’m working in “Web” and I blog, and I’m on Facebook, or Farcebook as I like to call it, but why is it beyond belief that I don’t have a Twitter account?
David got himself together and tried again;
“I mean how do you stay in touch with everything, man?”
This was not the first time I’d heard this, and I already had a stock answer;
“What did you do before Aprl 2007? Were you in a desert of solitude without any sense of human connection? Seriously?”
He didn’t get it, he went on for about another hour, so guess what? Yeah, I have a Twitter account now. Now the only thing left to do is to work out what the Hell to do with it?