what twits.

Usually I go through life with a pretty sunny outlook. Sure, I coat my warm fuzzy insides with a crackly outer layer of snarkiness and sarcasm (or, as I like to call it, snarkasm), but I generally enjoy my world. I encountered something yesterday, though, that I don't know if I'm okay with. I'm not sure if I should be annoyed, or if I should just sit in the corner and giggle for an hour--it's that level of ridiculous. I'd try to ease you gently into it, but there's just no point, so brace yourself--here it is...TWITTER SHOES.

You heard me. Twitter shoes. Officially known as "rambler" shoes. Some fiendish geekazoid with nothing better to do with their brains and skill decided to make a sneaker that is equipped with Bluetooth for the sole purpose (HA! Shoe joke!) of broadcasting the wearer's every step to Twitter. If I were to wear these shoes, people who followed my (nonexistent) Twitter page would have access to my location every step of the way. That says two things. One of them is "my ego is so big it has its own gravitational pull," and the other is "please please stalk me."

Granted, the shoes are supposed to be some sort of commentary on how stupid Twitter is, and how dependent people have become on the instant gratification of constant status updates and social networking. But putting these shoes out there is like trying to get somebody to stop drinking by showing them a swimming pool full of tequila and saying "See? See how senseless that is?"

On a completely different note, I clicked on my Spam mailbox yesterday and in response, Gmail immediately put up a link in the ads section of the page that read "SAVORY SPAM CRESCENTS--BAKE 12-15 MINUTES OR UNTIL GOLDEN BROWN." No. No on so very many levels, gmail. But thanks for trying.