Monday, August 29, 2011
I remember a time when I could drink like it was the fucking prohibition all over again, and wake up with a smile, sans hangover, and go about my day....
Those days are gone. And I miss them.
I'm not really sure why I decided I should drink margaritas last night. Maybe it's because everyone else was doing it. Maybe it's because my closet alcoholic cousin came over, and she always bring booze. It's totally rude if we don't open it and try some. I mean Martha would beat the impolite out of me, right? Right. Maybe it's because the phubster walks around shaking his head by the time I get to the fourth drink.... I'm not really sure of the why... but snarksters can I just say.... I AM FUCKING OLD.
I remember doing a lot of laughing and animated talking last night. I think I also helped my other cousin's daughter write a speech on the importance of history. She read it back to me and it sounded like shit. I tried to read it, but it looked like shit. So I think I'm banned from offering my unsolicited advice. SIGH. I'm usually so helpful. I was in Speech and Debate in High School, so that totally qualifies me. I think I also walked into a wall. I mean generally speaking it's typically the door jams and knobs that like to jump out in front of me for no reason other than to scoff behind my back; but I guess the walls want in on it too now, bastards. After a lot of talking, and me referring to my sister in law as "that cow," and telling a couple of cousins to "shut [their] whore mouths," and my mother in law cutting me off (embarrassing, YES, necessary, PROBABLY) I decided it was time for beddy bye. I was convinced that I would be fine this morning.
I was EPICALLY (a new word) wrong.
This morning I had a headache, and my eyes would literally not.open. My back also hurt for no explainable reason, and I had three bruises on my arm that I have no idea where they or from or how they got there. My entire mouth tasted like tequila, and my legs were stiff, and my joints creaky. As I hobbled out of bed, and stumbled to the bathroom I realized that I am old. I also found a gray hair, which was immediately removed. Add this to the list of I am getting old and it sucks ass.....
I remember when I could go on two hours of sleep too.... insomnia how I miss thee.
Things that have gone with age:
1. My memory
2. My body
3. My ability to hold my liquor
4. My tolerance for stupid people
5. My ability to just have one drink.....
6. My tolerance for people who just have one drink....
oh the list goes on................. but why bore you. It's Monday, and I'm hung over, like a Bob Damned teenager who's been sneaking the devil's water out of daddy's liquor cabinet. I think my eyes are blood shot too.
That's it. I gotta keep my boozing to Friday and Saturday....
1. When your cousin shows up with a gallon of Jose Cuervo, that does not mean you should help her drink the gallon.
2. When your MIL cuts you off--> you should cut her back, with a spork.
3. Telling someone to shut their whore mouth is most likely going to end in a fist fight
4. You should never look up quotes about history, and read them when impaired
5. Calling your sister in law a cow might get you booted out of the family.....
6. Learning to hold your liquor and your tongue would be fanfuckingtastic
Soooo... call anyone a cow lately? Find some gray hairs, got creaky joints? Share, because I don't want to be old and alone.................
Friday, August 26, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
It’s true. I have done gone and lost my funny. I don’t where it is, but I’m sure it will return to me shortly. (Please dear God, give it back, NOW.) So for the time being, you’re stuck with just me. Double SIGH. It’s ok though because even though I lost my funny bone, I still got “it.” (Apparently).
"It," you say... what the hell is "it." Duh. You know, that factor that makes you turn heads, get honked at by cars, and be wolf whistled at... that "it," it's still mine. I'm still rocking it. Case in point my bank run in.
I went to the bank yesterday, you know the kind in the grocery store (don’t judge me) with my two kiddos. I was in a hurry, and they were climbing all over me. The teller must have been about 12, cute for his age, but still very young, and giving off a slight creeper vibe. This is the conversation that went down…
Bank Teller(BA): Why hey... hello there. Can I help you? (big broad smile-->why grandma what big teeth you have!)
Me: (Kids climbing all over me like a jungle gym) Uhh yes. I need to—Little Monster put that back—Deposit something. (kids running up my shirt, knocking over candy, dancing in pure evil glee)
BA: (leaning over the counter behind the glass slightly) Oh I can most definitely help you with that. (Actually touches my hand when he takes deposit slip and check)
Me: (recoiling in disgust) Great.
BA: So, how is your day going? (Again with the scary smile and horse teeth)
Me: (Crybaby pulling my hair, Little Monster doing pirouettes in the isle) Uh ok I guess.
BA: Do you come to this branch often? (OMG, YES he did say that I swear)
Me: No, not really. (This is the longest deposit transaction ever)
BA: Oh, well you should, I haven’t seen you here before. (Wow, super cheesy)
Me: Well, I don’t really come here. I just needed a few things at the store. (talking really fast because that should end the pain pretty fast)
BA: Well (dramatic pause) you should come here more often, I’ll be more than happy to help you. *wink* (holy shit, did that guy just wink at me)
Me: Uhh… are you done with my transaction yet?
BA: (completely ignoring me) So are you babysitting those kids?
Me: Nope these are mine and MY HUSBAND’S. (Extra EMPHASIS and the husband part)
BA: (apparently not phased) You have kids? You are way too young to have two kids. (This shmuck is actually undressing me with his 12 year old eyes!)
Me: (super sarcastic) Oh that’s right because these children right here don’t actually exist.
BA: Hahaha, you are just so funny. So, Rebecca (said somewhat intimately) (holy shit he used my first name, WTF), when’s the next time you’ll think you’ll come to this branch? I work just about every day.
Me: (said pretty much in a fuck you voice) I’m pretty sure this is the last time.
BA: (genuine disappointment) Well that’s too bad. I’ll be disappointed not to see you again. (hands me my transaction receipt)
Me: (smugly) Then let the disappointment abound. I gotta go now.
BA: (panicked and insistent) Well wait, take my card. My number’s on there.
Me: No, I don’t think so. (scooping up the kids, surveying the damage left in their wake)
BA: (practically yelling through the glass) Come back again, ok. Your kids are really cute. (What the fuck man, what the fuck)
Me: (turns around, points finger at glass) Umm that’s a really weird thing to say, but thanks. Good bye! (stomps out of store with kids, who are now both in tears.)
This weird conglomeration of emotion flooded me as I left the store with the little ones… the first one was total gratification followed by an uncomfortable awkwardness and total creep out that the teller told me my children were cute, followed by a wave of flattery. In fact today I’m still not exactly sure how I feel about the whole incident. I should add it’s been about ohh 7 years since I’ve been hit on. Mostly because the phubster can emit a certain air of…. What’s the phrase, oh yeah “don’t look at me, my woman or my family because I’ll fuck you up,” when he’s around, and therefore most men, women, small children and dogs walk on the other side of the street. (Once you get to know him, he’s really a softie, way down deep, I SWEAR). So in a way it was nice, and then again it was super uncomfortable at the same time.
This was followed up by a preschool orientation meeting where the class bully from the Little Monster’s 3 year old class was described by her parents as a natural born leader with slight headstrong tendencies. She is also apparently a master orator who through the simple inflection of her little voice can bewitch all the other children to do her bidding.
This little girl is a TYRANT. She has a nasty temper, has been known to hit her fellow students, lay down in the middle of the floor and cry, say nasty things to any adult who dares to get in her way, and have a full blown meltdown at the mere mention of having to cut something with scissors. Natural born leader she is not. AND to top it all off her father went on this LOOONNNNGGGG rant followed by 20 questions (not even kidding here) about how closely the kids are monitored and if they ever share snacks, food, drinks, crayons, scissors, paper, toys, tissues, etc, because his daughter was sick, a lot, last year. PUH-LEASE. HELLO there, FOUR YEAR OLDS. They share EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. And don’t think your precious bundle of natural leadership isn’t the one that doesn’t instigate the sharing of water, snacks, etc. Some parents really have blinders on when it comes to their kids.
It was so annoying and irritating that I spent a large part of the time compulsively coughing every time they spoke. This may or may not have caused some other parents to break into muffled giggles, and to also effectively have me moved away from the Tyrant’s family. Just like High School, all over again…
You know what they say, once a rabble-rouser, always a rabble-rouser.
A couple lessons learned:
1. I must find a purse sized tazer for zapping weirdos at the bank and snobby parents
2. I should try to make a better impression on my child’s teacher
3. Scratch 2, being the class clown has and will always be more fun
So, been hit on in a creepy yet erriely satisfying way? Had it up to your eyeballs in self induldent parents. Let me hear all about it…….. besides I’ve got nothing better to do until my funny comes back.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
"What?" (C, eye brows arched)
"You know, [punctuate with a giggle] a lady in the streets..."
"Duh, a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets." (L starts chuckling)
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
I swear to BOB, people should mind their own fucking business, especially when it comes to my damn children.
An open letter to the Nun like Nazi woman in the woman's bathroom at Albertson's.
Dear Nun Nazi. Fuck you. Fuck you and your disparaging glances and disapproving clucking noises. I will gouge your eyes out with hot spoons. Damn you. My gang will you jump you multiple times. Granted, the little monster was having a meltdown that will surely live in infamy, however you should have kept your whore mouth shut.
Mrs. Suck IT
Oh Snarksters, I swear I was about to cut a bitch, but due to a mislaid gang shiv I settled for utter shock and sputtering noises instead..... Here's what happened:
I took the little monster to Albertson's to pick up a few things. Of course we ended up in the toy/paper goods/office supply isle, and of course she wants a $20 Barbie. At first I said, "not today babe," and continued down the aisle. She immediately put super glue on the bottom of her feet and stay planted in front of said Barbie. "But I really want it mommy." I stopped and turned around and said, "no, I don't think so, you already have a lot of toys at home (which she does, in fact anyone want some toys or a new daughter?)." Now she's jumping up and down and begging, and yes, people are staring. I then try to to explain that Barbie is a terrible role model and that you'd see more "real women" working the corner than in Barbie's dream house [ok fine I didn't really say that to a four year old, but I may have implied it]. Of course she is now screaming and crying and mumbling incoherently, "You're a mean mommy and you never get me anything!" Oh HELL no.
Calmly I take her by the hand and practically drag her and her tantrum to the bathroom. I run the cold water, and then I splash some in her face. (I know this is GENIUS right.)
At first little monster sputters and is totally about to go off the deep end when, presto--> just like that she starts laughing (it's a game now) and I have just avoided a nuclear meltdown that would rival Chernobyl, (I'm pretty sure that I'm going to get the Mother of the Year Award just for that little maneuver there, I promise to pass it around for show and tell) until....
NN(Nazi Nun): cough, cough, tap on the shoulder, "Excuse me, maybe I shouldn't say anything [yeah, the fuck you shouldn't] but I just don't think you should be doing that to her."
Me: Why the fuck did that woman just tap me..."Umm what?!"
NN: Backing up slightly-->she must have felt the animosity rolling off in waves..."You know, wetting her in the face. She should choke. [Choke my ass, it's sprinkles of water CUNT] And it's not healthy. [AGAIN, SPRINKLES OF WATER HO BAG] I saw you in the store, [what the hell, you're fucking stalking me, crazy bitch] she's just crying over a toy. It's not worth traumatizing her. [What.... She is going to be traumatized when I cut your neck and you spurt blood all over the place right now]"
Me: Where in the FUCK did I leave the gang shiv....."Umm what?!"I think I may have got that crazy glazed over look at this point. Look, never back an animal, or mom into a corner. You'll get your face torn off.
NN: Backs up some more, and puts one hand on the door...."You know sometimes positive attention gets more results than negative." Smiles smugly and leaves.
Me: What the fuck just happened here.
Little Monster: "What did that lady tell you?"
Me: "Not to buy you a Barbie." Cue the tears and the wailing from Little Monster.
We actually ended up hanging out in the bathroom for another 5 minutes while I got the Little Monster to chill out. And while I contemplated different ways I could fuck a bitch up.
Hello RUDE! Did I ask for your opinion on how to discipline my child? Was I throwing my child around the bathroom and punching her in the face, NO. Was I spanking her repeatedly with wire hangers, NO. Was I even yelling at her while she covered her ears and cowered in fear, HELL FUCKING NO.
SHUT THE FUCK UP THEN.
Here's the deal, DO NOT give unsolicited advice. Unless someone is being physically harmed, or obviously emotionally abused, keep your whore trap SHUT. Roll your eyes, make wild gestures, gossip with your Bob damn friends about the unfit mother you saw at the store, but DO NOT let one syllable out of your ball sucking mouth. Unless you want to lose a finger, an eye, or your entire fucking face. Bob DAMN YOU.
After nearly losing my daughter to Child Protective Services in the Bathroom, I opted for a shopping trip in Nirvana, which is also spelled Target. There my 1 year old son The CryBaby spilled an entire bottle of All Purpose Cleaner down the back of my shorts (a post for another day), some crazy cart woman ran me over to get to the kitchen items, and I stubbed my toe. I even forgot to use some of my carpal tunnel coupons. GAH.
Here's the lessons of the day:
1. If you're going to critique someone, put that shit right back in your dirty pie hole. Or be prepared to die.
2. If you're going to sputter and not say anything the least you can do is shank a ho.
3. After a run in at one store, do not foolishly believe that you can make it better at another.
4. Do not loudly ask your neighbor across the street if she's pregnant, congratulate her and make wild gestures. She's not. Sorry, my bad! (I swear the woman looked 5 months pregnant, at least). [I know, what does this have to do with that, well nothing, but I fucked up, and when I fuck up I retract that shit yo. Also, another example of when to keep your whore mouth shut]
And there you go. A daily dose of snark, from me to you. Has anyone ever said anything to you inappropriately, offered unsolicited advice, critiqued your mad skills, made you see red, and think about all those pre-planned out spots where you could dump a body.....
Don't be shy. Share.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Wait I know, how narcissistic is it to title the post the same title as my blog. VERY. But that's ok because that's how I ROLL...
Yup a bit snarky, sarcastic, narcissitc, a definite potty mouth. You should have SEEN the last post on my other stream of consciousness-not so daring-more of my inner thoughts-private life-ramblings. I think it was just TOO much. I may have offended some people, I may have caused other innocents just to go straight to hell. Ehh...
Either way, I've decided that I need to have an outlet for my other self, the snarky one who keeps all the confidence and sass to herself (that bitch!).
So be forewarned, this is not for the faint of heart, or for those who don't like cussing like a mother fucking sailor.
And to get things started on the right foot, a post about how I practically died last week. I've moved it from my other blog, because that soft ass hooker decided that it was just too much for that space. Shit. She should grow a spine.
Until my next snarky break.............
Screw you, it's Monday.
Much respect and props yo'. (Did I mention that'd I also like to fully explore my hip hop slang and text language options as well.... ttyl.)