With a click of my mouse, I now pronounce you dead to me.

I accidentally posted a Tweet to Facebook. I lost 8 friends and my mom blocked me.

Careful who you share your secrets, fears and dreams with. That shit is ammunition in the wrong hands.

Hey, gas stations that charge for air, fuck you.

I can only star and RT you popular people for so long before I give up due to lack of acknowledgement.

Wanted:Twitter crush. Must be funny, have a cute avi & the ability to tolerate the angst and insecurities of my last 3 failed relationships.

Just because I don't post boob pics doesn't mean they're not fabulous.

I unfollow skinny girls who make fun of overweight girls. I'm not overweight, I just don't like insensitive bitches.

I'm Twitter promiscuous. I give my stars with reckless abandon. Sometimes without following.

I wish is was as easy to start over in real life as it is on Twitter.

Don't tell me who to follow. Show me with your RT button.

If the truth hurts, then you probably aren't a very nice person.

Drinking chocolate milk out of a wine glass. I'm not fancy, it's just not my turn to do dishes.

Validate me. Validate me hard.

Tonight I'm printing out your avatars, making Popsicle stick puppets and putting on a show for my dog.

Hurry up and get your shit together so I can love you already.

Twitter is a lot like high school popularity, except this time I don't give a fuck.

When the hurt and anger dissipate quickly, I know that I never really cared.

The line to blow smoke up my ass starts here. Single file and one at a time please.

I would do anything for my son. Anything but getting my ass up off this couch and driving to the park to drop off his skateboard.