It’s your favourite day of the week - whichever random day on which I decide to write the Not Important News-Letter!
Hey twitter, listen here you punk!
This post has been brewing in my mind for a while so this is kind of old news now. I got my first ever 12 hour twitter ban. People are surprised to hear I could be banned from twitter. They say: “but Ana, you’re such a mild mannered individual!” (Nobody said that ever but they would if I made them.)
…well they’re WRONG. I knew in my heart all along and now there’s proof that I’m an anarchist and a rebel, not a gentle parenting stay at home mother of two. These coffee dates with my friends are just a ruse to cover up spreading our inflammatory revolutionary ideas like how low income households should be able to afford food and heating. Don’t tell Liz, to her this kind of talk is worse than treason. Poor people thriving? Don’t be silly.
I know, I know, I promised not to talk about anything important. So we’ll get back to the part of the story you care least about - my twitter ban.
What I did was call Liz Truss a cunt. I didn’t consider this to be a controversial statement. I spoke to everybody, every single person in the world; living and dead. Everyone agreed that she’s a cunt. So it felt like a safe tweet. I said my piece and went to sleep, deeply satisfied with how right I was about everything.
Well roll on the next morning and I woke up to a 12 hour twitter ban. I felt it was unjust, since the rules they quoted to justify my ban didn’t cover calling the prime minister a cunt.
Julz said that twitter has a complicated relationship with the word cunt itself, which I found strange. In my mind twitter is a man, so it shouldn’t really be telling me how to use the word (giving you credit to know I’m being satirical). I thought we were reclaiming it anyway so I should be able to use it however I see fit. It equally could have been a compliment (it wasn’t). But could have been! (Wasn’t.)
Either way, I’m not enough of an anarchist to live without twitter while they’re considering my appeal so I just had to do a “my bad”, delete the tweet, and hope they don’t flag me again, since it would most likely result in something more permanent.
***
!!!Tangent incoming!!!
I had to make sure the phrase was “say my piece” and not “say my peace”. I ended up in the how-to-English part of Google and I’m so happy.
Number one, yes, I was right, it’s “piece”.
Number two, apparently, people confuse Say my piece and Hold your peace, or Hold my peace.
The thought of a priest telling people to FOREVER hold their PIECE just kills me. Kills me dead. I will never be able to attend a wedding ever again without thinking of penises.
But wait! People also ask:
Three stages of my drunkenness in one screenshot. Somebody needs to go check on Google.
***
I went to a gender reveal party for the first time ever.
Gender reveal parties are a peculiar way to spend time. It’s 50-50! I disagree that things can be exciting with these odds. That’s probably why people do those ever increasingly extreme stunts to give the event more oompf. Blue confetti is not instagrammable enough any longer. “Fuck, it’s one or the other--- let’s start a forest fire!” When you have to go to such lengths to make the party worthwhile maybe it’s time to re-examine the concept?
I have to say, however, that I enjoyed this one. I care about the family, and their daughter was Zoe’s first playmate. It was a lovely occasion for them to be surrounded by close friends and celebrate this new chapter. Being in that room made me feel all warm inside and so excited for them. Even made me wish I had friends or something.
But most importantly, they’re having twins, meaning the odds aren’t 50-50. No need for a plane, an ostrich, and aerial acrobats when two out of three people can be wrong.
So I guess gender reveals can be exciting. You either have to care about people (gross), or just have twins. Praying hard for someone to come through with triplets now. Or the bike lock quadruplets.
I did it, I messaged my second cousin.
I said: Hey! This might be weird but I think we’re second cousins?
And then I reminded her when we met and she responded saying that of course she remembers me, and also remembers that we got on like a house on fire. (Maybe one day we should discuss the fact that “a house on fire” means “excellently”. Please, it’s neither an adverb nor a good thing. Being gaslit by an entire language on the daily.)
Just wanted to update you and let you know I’m not a coward and a woman of my word and it only took me two years to get in touch with her.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about, read this.
***
I have so much more to share with you, but for some reason it was kind of hard to sit down and write, so I’m going to quit while I’m ahead and not a knee HAHA!!!!!!! I just came up with that. Felt cute, might edit out later.
Since I’m not sure how to finish here’s some topics I’m planning to discuss in future times:
Bananas. The Lion King. Rainbow rice.
Bye.