I celebrated America's independence appropriately this weekend - sunburn, mosquito bites, foolish decisions and fireworks. Wait. Is that not what we were supposed to do? My bad. I did see 'Eclipse.' For the third time. If that counts. As proper celebrating. No? OK. Thought I'd throw that out there.

Friday already feels like a lifetime ago. I jam-packed my weekend with things to do in between sitting for both a cat and a dog. Make that two cats - one kitten, one not - and a dog. Said kitten, while adorable to the point of illegality (fondly described as a 'cotton ball with organs'), required medicine twice a day to fight off an illness. My weekend dogchild, Paco, was recently bitten by yappy bitch poodle, and also required medicine twice per day, plus monitoring and swabbing of the PUNCTURE WOUND in his side from said poodle bitch. That's three strikes against poodles, man. They're ugly. They're uglier. And they bite.

So, yes, I was Dr. Doolittle. All ended well, and all my charges are still alive and well. And precious, obviously. In my next life I'll be an animal whiserer. You just wait.

Saw some fireworks Saturday. And Sunday. All glorious, as fireworks are probably my favorite things ever on earth. After mom's spaghetti, speaking in LOLcats with hashtags, and the possibility of world peace. Of course. Unfortunately with fireworks come mosquito bites, which are further unfortunate on top of fresh sunburn. But I spent the afternoon Sunday sailing across a pool atop a raft with an umbrella as a sail, so who can complain, really?

In other news, I posted my 16,000th tweet lasts night. SIXTEEN-THOUSAND. That's, like, 2,240,000 characters of nonsense. Yes I counted. When you only get 140 characters at a time to spew bullshit on the Internet for 900+ mostly-strangers to read, you learn to use each and every character very wisely. Must not waste! With that sixteen-thousandth (!!!) tweet, I came to the realization that I have an unfortunate habit I must break. That's not to say I don't like shatting random thoughts across the interwebs, it's just to say I need to back off my ridiculous habits.

Hence, Day One of a twitterbreak.

It's mostly an experiment, really. Like, can I go an extended period of time without even a peek at Twitter? God I hope so. So far, so good. But that's my problem. Peeking. Like every other social networking tool, thanks to the Internet, we're all this-much closer to not being able to escape anyone. Everyone's on Facebook. Everyone has a blog. Everyone's on Twitter. Like, everyone. So when you're feeling extra masochistic all you have to do is type a few words (beep-beep-boop!) into the ol' keyboard, and BAM! There's that person. Every picture. Every tweet. Every new girl. Everything that's better. Everything that isn't you.

I suppose most people have, um, what's it called? Restraint? Yeah, no. Not me. I am not that person. I'm the person who will seek out a person's online presence just to feel that awful ache in my insides. Like, by doing so's eventually going to make it feel awesome.

Uh, so far, no dice, guys. Sorry. Hold onto your restraint.

In a few days (hours? 10 minutes?), I'll crawl back. Always do. I'll have on my big girl panties. I'll be all, "What? No I won't go look at your Twitter feed. i can has restraint, bitch." And for at least a day I'll be high on this power. The power of restraint. But, as usual, every superhero must fall. @krittabug is no different (ooh, I like that. Has a nice ring. I AM A SUPERHERO. AT-KRITTABUG IS MY NAME. RAWR).

And again I shall fall. Such is the life. So for now I'll continue living in my blissful naivete, listening to Ingrid Michaelson and quoting her on my Facebook profile.

Tweet on, friends. I'll look at it another day.

(Although, not gonna lie, I still get a notification every time someone tweets at me. I read those. Makes me feel rebellious and dirty. It's delicious).