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I think Tweets might be the most frustrating thing in my life right now. I always write the perfect tweet, only to find out the counter’s at -2. “Seriously? We couldn’t just round up a bonus five characters? This one’s perfect.” So I’ll sit there and rewrite it, check the counter and see it’s down to -1. The only thing running through my head is a slipstream of eff-bombs. I’ll think about what my boss said about tweets (“Tweets are a throwaway thing”) and just hit enter, come back two minutes later like, “Wait. Wait. I said what?” The next logical step of course is to delete the whole tweet and start from the beginning. “Maybe a hashtag this time.” (My boss said they’re passe and I’m worried that’s one of the main reasons I find them hilarious.)

I try to spread them out, keep it 30% self-promotional, 20% promoting stuff I like and 50% jokes. Yes, the latter category overlaps both and I also made up all of those statistics, but of course it all just feels like me douching up the internet. I spend equal amounts of time reading tweets from the people I follow and my tweets re-tweeted (I currently have five re-tweets). I feel like John Nash, dashing back to my re-tweets to  find the pattern in pure, unadulterated randomness and to see if someone has re-tweeted something I just wrote. I do this because they are my saving grace, my friends telling me, “Hey, everyone else, here are some examples of my friend Chris not sucking at Twitter. I hope he makes more of these ones, too. The rest are weird.”

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