Grey Gardens quoting twitter bots. This is what I do with my free time

I was looking for different twitter tools and found a site that had code for a simple twitter bot. Of course, I started brainstorming for something to do with it. I thought maybe something Project Runway related, but then thought.. no, there’s only so many times someone wants to get “Make it work” sent to them.

So.

I’m still copying and pasting lines of the movie in, but I have enough for a few of weeks without getting repeats. At least, for little_edie. big_edie just didn’t have as much screen time, unless you want me to put in the lyrics for “Tea for Two”. :)

They’re sent out twice a day via twitter, but you don’t need a twitter account. After I add more I’ll figure out a way to get a quote on demand. or maybe search for quotes :)

Obligatory disclaimer: Normal SMS message rates will apply. :)

send follow big_edie or follow little_edie to 40404 to subscribe.

Note: a few messages are sent from one bot to the other, so you have to be subscribed to both of them to get those.

9/16: Oops, a bit of a misconfiguration caused it to send out a slew of messages this morning. Fixed

The Saints lost. I bought books.

So yeah, the Saints lost to the Redskins. I don’t really care, but I have to admit there were a few times where I got in the spirit and yelled “Booooo” or shouted “YES!!” at the appropriate times. Once, I chanted “Who dat! Who dat! Who dat say dey gonna beat dem Saints!” with the eight other Saints fans that were in ear shot of our seats. OK, four times.

Five times?

The first 20 minutes of the game were dreadfully hot, but once the sun was blocked by the concrete overhang holding up the other 89,998 screaming fans, it wasn’t completely unbearable. I think I spent 34 dollars total throughout the game, buying a hot dog, a small tray of nachos and two diet cokes. Yes, all that. Totally insane, no?

On a completely unrelated note, on Friday I returned to the world of online purchasing, buying books on Amazon.com for the first time in several years.

I’m about 35 years behind the cool kids and have only now started reading Charles Bukowski. After buying Hollywood, Ham on Rye and Post Office from my favorite used books store, Second Story Books, I got hooked, but they didn’t have anything else. Amazon had The Most Beautiful Woman in Town for like $3 so I got that and also picked up a pair of books by David Sedaris and a couple Christopher Moore novels.

It’s gonna be a mini-xmas for me on Wednesday!

Are you ready for some football?

It seems that in some point in the too distant past, a short time after Alberto had bought season tickets from a co-worker’s mom, I agreed to go to one of the games. I picked the game where the Redskins were playing the Saints since I figured that even if I hated watching football (which I do) I could muster up some measurable level of excitement for that one, if none other.

So. The day has come. It is 10am. I am hungover. I do not feel like sitting in a large open air venue surrounded by tasty snacks and cool refreshments, watching a bunch of sweaty guys run around a field in tight pants throwing themselves against each other in testosterone fueled displays of male superiority.

Wait. I think I’m ready to rumble.

How much for just one rib?

Today I’m taking my first sick day off of work. Well, sick half-day since I can’t afford to take an actual and complete full day off after I just had labor day off (with no pay.)

Skeleton displayI’d like to say I pulled a Ferris Bueller and talked a couple friends into spending the morning visiting museums and eating at snooty (snooty?) snotty restaurants; the truth be told I either bruised or cracked a rib last week. It’d be much more interesting if I could be all “I was having crazed monkeysex with some hot guy I met online”, but I actually injured myself giving Plato a much needed bath. I was bent over the tub trying to hold him with one hand while pouring water over him with the other. He was being VERY tolerant under the circumstances but at one point I guess he was just wet as hell and couldn’t stand it anymore because he started to squirm out of my hands, planning to leap from the porcelain Guantanamo Tub that he had found himself in, I’m sure. He squirmed, I clutched, he lept, my knee slipped, he was pulled back into the tub and the edge of the tub got jammed between two of my ribs.

I remember feeling a weird sensation in my ribcage. It was like the edge of the tub was alive and vibrating, trying to burrow deep into my body like a giant ceramic parasite. (It was very Kafka.) It didn’t really hurt, though. Until the next morning.

Of course, I figured since I had gone through this before I could take it like a man —- I knew what to expect, right? Stupid stupid stupid.

It’s been painful but tolerable throughout the week, but I must have sat wrong on the metro last night because when I stood up to start walking home I almost doubled over in pain right there on the train. Then I took a nap last night and must have rolled over on my stomach because when I woke up, not only was I on my stomach, but the pain was even worse. I remember thinking to myself “Oh weird, how did I end up on my stomach. Damn, the pain is even worse.”

So this morning, for the past couple of hours, I’ve been sitting on the sofa with an ice pack on my bosom, praying to the rib goddess to make the pain a little better so I can go and make some mo-nay to support my kitties. So far my upper torso is much colder than it was before, but I’m not sure if it’s any better. I’ll have to wait for my ribcage to thaw out to see if this did any good.

At least Plato is clean now, right?

Plato, merow!