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Category Archives: Disappointment Blows A Fat Dick

I Didn’t Quite Cry Like A Little Girl….

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Well my little Snark Bugs I’m going to make it official. I think my liver is broken. Or my brain my be actually working, or I have been abducted by aliens: any one of these scenarios is highly plausible. Just when I thought I was going to be able to regale you with climactic and scintillating stories of this past weekend’s complete debauchary, I have a confession to make:

I have failed you.

And you better get used to that shit now, you know the lingering garlicesque quality of bitter disappointment. No matter how many times you brush your teeth that shit still sucks.  What can I say Snarksters…. I did not drink at all this weekend.


Let me retract that…. I drank a really watered down fruit cocktail with vodka, and by drank I mean I had two sips.

I can hear the feigned outrage and threatened lynchings now, so let’s just get to the punch shall we (yes I revel in irony the way some revel in power, or you know glitter and spanx).  It’s not that I didn’t want to drink per se, in fact I spent most of Saturday afternoon preparing for the onslaught of moonshine I was going to force on my gullet. I drank copious amounts of water, and an Urban Detox drink/elixir.  I had everything planned out… I was going to spend the night at Ms. VampireS’s place, we were going to do a little pre-party, the whole thing……. I had a free pass from the phubster to have a good time… and yet when the time came I just couldn’t do it.

I know…. pick your jaw up off the floor and keep reading, if you can….

But Becca WHY………… you’re asking yourself, or accusingly pointing at the screen and shouting….

Ummm…. to put it in a nutshell–> I felt homesick.

Oh God, and there goes all my hard earned street cred.

So here’s the thing, the phubster and I don’t see a lot of each other during the week, in fact we don’t see each other at all because of our work schedules, locations, etc I actually spend the week with the kids at my parent’s house and we don’t see him until the weekend.  Well we do see him during the week for dinner and stuff but we don’t actually stay together, and Yes, this is by choice.  The money we save on gas, and the stress that’s avoided by me not having to rustle the kiddos up early and drop them off is immeasurable, and so for a while, we’re traversing down this road.  Obviously it’s not all roses and peaches, and for the most part it’s pretty much vomit and shit, but it is what it is, so let’s just move on….

I had been planning on this party for at least 6 weeks now. It was promising to be an epic night, replete with funny drunken stories, and maybe projectile vomiting. I had a crazy morning trying to get everything together for the phubster so he could take care of the kids, and it took me forever to leave the house because he was being cranky, and the Crybaby was being extra clingy. It was just about World War 3 to get out and get over to Ms. VampireS’s place somewhat on time. And I was irritated too. I was really ticked off that the phubster and the kiddos had gotten me all sorts of pissy while I was trying to get into “get drunk party mode” and leave. I was in fact really happy and looking forward to all kinds of inappropriate fun just for spite. Ms. VampireS and I started off at her local nail salon, and the moment I sat down in the chair I knew it… I was screwed, because I was suddenly and desperately homesick for my cranky ass husband and insane kiddos.

But I was committed, and I was determined to push through this, I really was. So I swallowed the lump in my throat, and tried to ignore the texts with pictures of the kiddos from the phubster who really wasn’t helping the cause (and I take this tactic to be part of new strategy in his game, which I’m fucking on to, now….), and I was just going to go ahead as planned. Also in part (a particularly large part) I was embarrassed to be feeling like such a sissy crybaby, and not really willing to let Ms. VampireS know about my current blues. So the festitivites continued and I tried to keep it light, and I really wanted to drink, but as we got ready, and got our eyelashes done, and put on my going out face (aka spackle, aka make-up), I just couldn’t shake it. I was sure it would get better at dinner, where I would see some more of our mutual friends and for sure have a drink or too, at least to relax.

At dinner I kept meaning to order a drink, really. I did. But the service was kind of God Awful, and the phubster was still blowing up my phone (bastard), and when the food finally arrived I was only too grateful to just inhale, without thinking about drinking. After dinner, I promised myself I was going to have a drink at the bar. I was going to get drunk and dance on top of the bar and make a fool out  of myself, I swore it, but instead, the achy hollow feeling, filled up the space that was meant for my liquor, and pulsed in rhythm to the deafening music. I danced with Ms VampireS, kept the creepers off my girlfriends (and Oh LORD we’re there ever some fucking wierdos at the bar), told a drunk guy’s homie he better “check his boy” before I do, and made daggerous eyes at some insane fuck that sniffed one of my other friend’s neck.

I was told numerous times I should have a drink, and I wanted to, I didn’t have a good reason not to, other than the fact that I just couldn’t. Couldn’t bring myself to imbibe in some “forget the feelings juice” and let loose. I stayed until the bar closed and we all went back to Ms. VampireS’s place, where I guilitly broke down and said, “I think I’m just going to go home, the phubster was blowing up my phone all night.”  The look on her face could have recdued me to a puddle of toxic waste, but she gracefully aqcuiesed. I suddenly felt guilty, and knew I couldn’t fight either feeling as I did the walk of shame back to my car and drove home.

Ms. VampireS I’m sorry. Really. For being such a fucking pussy. Seriously. But I know you’re going to forgive me which is why we’re such good friends, and I promise that at your Star Wars themed wedding bacholorette party I’m going balls to the walls……………………

All the way home, the heavy feeling, like walking through a mucky pond became lighter and lighter as the miles flew under my tires, and when I finally arrived home I quietly went inside, laid down next to the phubster and went to sleep. I felt complete.

The next day I was exhausted, as though I had actually stayed up all night drinking. This is when I realized how incredibly old I’m getting, and that I really shouldn’t be out at the bar dancing if I’m not drunk enough to make my muscles loosen up to handle the torture I’m putting it through.

New rule…. I have to stop being such a pussy, and I really need to start doing some yoga or something, because shit, my legs fucking hurt.

So, ever felt homesick as an adult? Please share… emabrassment loves company…..


Under Pressure I Apparently Don’t Become a Diamond….

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I was linked to today by an awesome blogger who always makes me laugh, or at least say What.The.Fuck man…. That’s right Shane, big shout out to you over at  If you haven’t checked him out yet you better, or prepare for knee cap destruction by pencils.

However, this put a lot of pressure on me to write something epic– something hilarious wherein you the reader, would spit your beverage out all over the screen or chortle devilishly to yourself while people point and stare.


I have choked.

Under the pressure.

And the best I could come up with is sharing my two favorite jokes of all time. But hey it’s better than nothing.

Joke 1

Q: What’s brown and sticky
 (no it’s not poop)
A: A stick! (hahahahahahahaha you know you’re laughing)

Joke 2

Two peanuts were walking down the street.
One was a salted.
 (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, oh my God that’s funny)

Check back in with me on Monday, for more Conversational Mondays, and I promise to shape up a little for next week……….

I’m Going to Have to Minimize My Guest Posting Rights… Fuck… Just Kidding….

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So Snarksters,

Here it is… the aforementioned and highly anticipated post by Ms. VampireS herself. Can I just say that the fact that she DID NOT post about vampires and brownies has pretty much ruined my fucking week. GAH. Anyway…. she does have a point somewhere in all this rambling about life lessons like forgiveness, friendships, blah blah fucking Hallmark blah blah. Ugh. Not to worry though, I’ve livened up the place with a few strategically placed editor’s notes. The editor would be me. Oh SHIZ NITZ, please add that onto the ever growing list of talents I have and that you suck at. I know, I know, you’re thinking to yourself, “oh no she din’t.” And HELL YES, I did.

P.S. I’m one of the biggest fans of Ms. VampireS, and she knows it. She also knows that I’m joking around with her in my most Snarky way. If you take upon yourself to leave her a nasty comment, I will sharpen my fucking pencils, and I will Bob Damn Find You. Did I mention I’m in a gang……..

My mom would just die if she knew I was blogging. It’s ok because it’s not my blog and really this is an act of chivalry. (Can girls be chivalrous? Or is that an act saved for the male species?) You see I feel the need to save my BFF from herself [editor’s note: I like going down in flames, not saving necessary]. I read these blogs of hers and while I chuckle (ok laugh my ass of in an actual LMAO moment) I can’t help but say oh B darling, why the foul language?? [editor’s note: because I fucking love to Bob Damn mother fucking curse. Shit.]
So when given the much coveted offer of a “guest post” I couldn’t help but say “YES! YES… oh god..” So after much ado (and hopefully not about nothing) here it is folks.
Now I know you were all promised brownies and vampires [editor’s note: I’m sorely disappointed, I still want my vampire brownies] but I have a new idea. I apologize for anyone who was waiting on baited breathe for that post. Actually no I don’t. Get over it. [editor’s note: well screw you too]
Moving on…
A few years ago, after a couple days or maybe even weeks of dodging my best friend’s phone calls (no not B) I got quite the nasty gram from him. My response? “Sorry I’ve been really busy.” … if this is the part where you think it went over well, you’re wrong. “Don’t ever say that to me, I always make time for you. I’m busier than anyone I know.” At the time I thought OMG how dramatic! Cry me a river, we’re not dating or anything. But as time passed, and as I got older (and ironically enough, busier) I started to encounter more and more people that just didn’t have time for me. Some of this was just natural growing apart as we matured and to avoid the awkward painful conversation of “I just don’t like you anymore” we both pretended to be too busy to get together…. Letting our relationship dissolve in the ephemeral [editor’s note: sometimes Ms. VampireS uses big words. I know, it’s ok I don’t know what they mean either]. But I digress…
There were others, those hurt more.
Now that I’m older, and less dramatic (shut up! I am I swear [editor’s note: um no you’re not]) I get way less offended when people don’t have time for me… nope now I just get pissed.
So when today, I had 4 different people (yes all male) tell me “I’m sorry, I’ve just been SUPER busy lately.” (or some variation thereof) you can imagine how fucking pissed off I was. Like really? That’s all you got?
Case 1 – guy I know, that everyone I know can’t fucking stand, who has been giving a million chances and is on his 1 million and 1st chance… in the proverbial king sized dog house. Who, if he really wanted to make up to me big time as promised, would really find some time. And not a lot of time, I mean clearly any girl who forgives you so much, really wouldn’t require too much time. But I guess that’s the point isn’t it, he knows I forgive… (look at me digressing again.)
Case 2 – guy I know, who after finally convincing me to go out with him and acts, well let’s just say quite odd on our 1st date, complete with trying to kiss me and ending up in my ear and then texting me as I drove away to say, “um can we hang tonight?” … um we just hung out… did you mean to call someone else?? “nope you, I meant to call you silly.” Right…. [editor’s note: please do not go out with the guy again because I don’t want to have to ID you at the morgue. Thanks.]
Case 3 – my GD assistant who actually had the audacity to tell me “I’m too busy, you’re gonna have to do that yourself.” [editor’s note: as a “professional assistant” this is unacceptable, and I would tell him to go Fuck himself six ways to Monday]
Case 4 – no, I don’t think B’s readers are quite ready for case 4. [editor’s note: I’m not ready either]
What the fuck is with telling people you are too busy? There are some people you get “un busy” for, and there are some people you lie to about being “busy” and there are some people (and yes this would be me) [editor’s action: big time EYEROLL] that you’re just never too busy for.
The girl who has giving you a million and one chances, the girl whose ear you kiss, the girl who could sink your career… you’re never too busy for that girl.
So my best friend was right. And I was an ass. … is this my penance? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure JC himself would agree I’ve paid my debt to society and deserve once again to be showered in the love and admiration of those around me. … oh well, B loves me [editor’s note: sure I do, when I don’t want to break your knee caps with pencils].
PS… wanna guess who is the only guy I forgave? Case 1,2 or 3 ?…. yup case 1. Convincing argument? Nope… I just need real mental health treatment [editor’s note: agreed, I’ll drive you just cuz we’re tight like that].

The Kid Needs A Damn Cat Bell

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Oh readers, friends, comrades, followers and those of you who have been forcibly made to read this blog upon pain of death. You my funny snarksters (add that to my ever growing lexicon of words that I invented) are going to be sorely disappointed today.

My bees knees snarkster friend = EPIC BLOG FAILURE. Due to conflicting schedules she did not write her post as promised and therefore I had to break off our friendship and break her mother fucking knees, with pencils. It was bloody, there was screaming, and she’ll never walk again.
Ok, ok I kid. I would never break her knees with pencils, I’d have to use a couple of three ring binders and industrial staplers instead because it’s totally more humane to do it that way. But can I just say for the record that I was LOOKING forward to a great POST about Desserts, Vampires and Brownies. Now I must subject my loyal snarksters to more inane ramblings…. I Blame you Ms.VampireS. And thus I have dubbed you forever more in my posts to be referred to as Ms.VampireS. Don’t like, don’t not do your damn homework for me. (Hmph!)
Actually I’m willing to cut Ms. VampireS a break. She was a bit busy last night, and she did mention she fell asleep while texting me, therefore let it be known that you have earned yourself a stay of execution. And before you feign outrage, did you really think I wouldn’t blog about you not getting your post ready for my blog? Think again, just about anything is game for posts…
Along the same lines: how are you, dear snarkster lEfty (and you know who are) going to leave a comment that says “Don’t blog about me” and then seriously expect me to not post about you. You walked right into it my dear. I promise to post a good one about the good old days pretty soon. It would probably start something like, “One day in eighth grade….” Please note you’ve be fore fucking warned.
On an unrelated note, my little monster is sleepwalking.
(Pause for dramatic effect)
Yup that’s right snarksters, sleepwalking. The other night the phubster (after a frantic search) found her downstairs on the couch sleeping. No lights were on, and the door to our bedroom was closed (I should mention she sleeps in a toddler bed in our room). She has no recollection of how she got downstairs.
Then last night the little monster got up and paced in front of the bed with her eyes wide open, not blinking and incoherently mumbling. My first thought when I woke up to this sight was, “Oh my Fucking BOB, the Bob Damn RING come to life, and now my soul is going to go straight to hell while this she ghost demon infects me with her evil spawn and I shrivel up with lesions and convulse to death. FUCK ME.”
And then after blinking a few times, protected from my see no evil blankets, I peeped my head out again and realized it was just the little monster sleep walking. I got out of bed and gently guided her back to her bed. She didn’t get up again, and I did not have one finger or toe sticking out from beneath the sheets just in case there really were demon spawn out to steal my soul.
This morning I relayed the sleep walking story to the phubster.
His one comment, “the kid needs a damn cat bell.”
Well played phubby, well fucking played.
Be that as it may, I don’t know how appropriate a cat bell is to put on a small child. I think it’ll be better to just put up the safety gates and sleep with one eye open. Oh sleep how I miss thee.
In other unrelated news my home girl (I’m in her gang yo) Elizabeth stopped on by and left me a comment to which I secretly (ok not so secretly) swooned to, and then giggled about like a damn school girl. Check out her awesomeness here:
I may have also had a post of mine re-posted (and edited, sigh) here
What can I say snarksters… I am one talented bitch. It’s like I was telling Ms. VampireS, I should be writing for SNL or something. I’m pretty sure that my comedic talent is being totally fucking squandered and that my nuggets of wisdom will never get the warm the cockles of main stream America.
And on that note, I’m out yo.
After all it’s the fucking weekend and I plan to be sippin on gin and juice, laid back…..
More Snark on Monday………..