Une artiste, c'est moi.

Sometimes I want to start a Twitter account just so I can blast you with the meaningless tidbits that preoccupy me during the day but don't seem to warrant an entire LJ post. Like today, it was humid in my apartment and my couch really stank. I could've just Tweeted, Wow, my couch stinks today. PU.

But I couldn't tell you that without telling you WHY the couch stinks. Or exactly HOW it stinks. Or the failures of Febreeze and similar "fabric refreshers" to CONTROL the stink. And I can't do all of that in 140 characters or less! I'm a storyteller, goddamnit! I'm a fucking artist! I don't believe in this Twittershit. I need at least a thousand words to fully express the heartrending, epic and unforgettable saga of my malodorous couch!

Philistines. I'm too good for all of you.