Call me #twidiot.

Hey my people, 

You know how they talk about chemo brain?  When you're just a little bit off?  When your windmill is missing a blade?  Yeah, I have that, but chemo's not the culprit.  I had it in kindergarten.  At age 7 I took to eating my egg-on-toast balanced on the back of my hand.  I had a lot of fails with that system, but I guess I wanted more suspense out of breakfast.  In school I once went through fifth period before I realized my skirt was on inside out.  To this day, I can say the wrong thing and be just as surprised as you when it pops out.  It's just part of my makeup, like being left-handed.  (Go #lefthandersday! Oh crap. That was yesterday.) 

When I was a journalist, my editors knew that my stories would be gibberish until draft #3.  I don't mean disorganized.  I mean not in English.  

This is why Twitter worries me.  For you, it's a genius instant bond with the globe.  For me, it's that place where it takes one millisecond to tell the universe that there's a leak in my oil pan.

I learn something every day though.  #restingbitchface #humblebrag #princegeorge

See?  A #twiddiot can up her game.  Once upon a time, even rain was a learning curve.