Knowing that I’ve developed an addiction to the Apple-flavored Kool-Aid, my husband told me yesterday afternoon he’d heard one of the new, super-secret iPhones had been lost at a bar and was on the radio news.
My reaction: Why, if you live under a rock, are your dirty socks on my bedroom floor?
Then, during the lead-in to the early evening news, they mentioned that a woman convicted of negligent homicide had been sentenced. When I launched into a rant about the fact she’s only doing 6 months behind bars, he was confused. Wanted to now how I knew that when the news had just started.
Dude…Twitter. Welcome to this century.
I’m married to a man who still yells for me if he has to send an email. I program the numbers into his cellphone. In the past few months he’s begun handling his own private messages through the ATV forum we belong to and he can surf eBay, but that’s about it.
To him, “social media” means “my wife sitting around on the internet all day chatting with her friends and claiming it’s part of being an author”.
To me, “social media” means I know stuff before my husband and that’s awesome.