Twitter: Martinis for the Modern Mom

Even the Tweety bird ties one on once in a while.

In the 18th century, to break up the monotony of stoking fires and slaughtering oxen, American housewives tatted, going blind making lace, blissfully unaware that it was the pre-cursor to Hanky Panky thongs. In the 19th century, women had their salons, performing for each other, and leaving us a legacy of reality stars who are talentless, yet revered. In the middle of the 20th century, women stopped with all the activities, and started drinking. Heavily.  The only way out of the tedium of housewifery was the three martini lunch. Eventually, Martinis gave way to the less social Valium, then the more social Prozac, and finally the insanity of Soul Cycle.

Today, women no longer need mind altering substances to escape from the numbing tedium of every day life.  We have Twitter.

But are drugs and Twitter really all that different?  You decide:

Tweeting                                               Drinking Martinis

Leads to lost time, due to Twitter’s time sucking properties Leads to lost time, due to black outs from midday drunkenness
Leads you to form relationships with people who seem nice virtually, but turn out to be insane in real life or cyber stalkers in the virtual one. Leads you to form relationships with people you think are your best friends, due to alcohol induced haze, but turn out to be nincompoops .
Every idea seems great on Twitter!  If it gets re-tweeted enough, it must be good! Everyone looks better after a few martinis.  If you drink enough, even the overweight, smelly delivery guy seems…nice.
There’s always time for one more tweet. So what if you miss the first half of the little league game? There’s always room for one more sip.  So what if you’re a little wobbly as you drive to pick up? .
When you start tweeting, you swear it’s only going to be for five minutes. When you start drinking martinis, you swear you’re only going to have one.
When tweeting, it’s socially acceptable to talk to strangers and tell them your intimate secrets under cover of your Twitter handle. When you’ve had enough martinis, it’s socially acceptable to tell a bartender your intimate secrets, undercover of the bar.
When you’re tweeting, you think your Klout score really, really means something. When you’re drunk, you think your opinions really, really mean something.


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