Then I got stuck in a dress at Goodwill...

Totally not kidding.

Many of you know that I'm going to a blogging conference next Friday. It's BlogU 14 and unless you live under a rock or it's your first time here, you know what I'm talking about. I've been tweeting and Facebooking about it for months now, in an attempt to win back my registration costs. Aside from the chance to win some cash, I'm truly excited about going to this conference.

It'll be my first blogging conference and there are so many hilarious ladies (and one awesome dude) that will be there, it's like a veritable buffet of laughs and coolness.

But there is one dark side to this whole thing. On Wednesday, I almost died. Yes, it's true. Because of my love for this conference, I nearly lost my life. Let me explain.

I had asked my friend Tonya to keep an eye out for 'retro-gowns' (think: big, poofy, 80's), so when she texted me Wednesday afternoon telling me that she had found the perfect dress for me at Goodwill, I was all over it! She had them put the dress aside for me AND talked them down to just $20! I prayed this dress would fit, because I hate shopping for 'retro-gowns' (ok I've NEVER shopped for 'retro-gowns') and it would just be so much easier to have someone else find it for me.

After work, I headed to Goodwill, grabbed the dress and went into the dressing room. I took the montrosity off the hangar and lifted it over my head. I then struggled with the zipper until it was almost all the way up. SUCCESS! It (almost) FIT!! I was so glad that it fit that I took this pic while in the Goodwill dressing room:

Me, in all my pink poofy retro glory

It's floor-length, and so hot that I'm sure I will sweat my ass off, but it (almost) fit and I didn't have to go out looking for another dress, so I made the decision to buy it. Then I tried to get out of it. And that's when it happened. I came close to dying right then and there in the Goodwill dressing room. Seriously. I started sweating, my heart began to race and I had 9-1-1 on standby. When I was unzipping the dress, the gigantic, almost blanket-sized tag got caught in the zipper. See for yourself:

Giant tag caught in zipper, while the dress is on. I nearly died!

As you can see, I was in a bit of a pickle. I was wearing the dress, the zipper was on the opposite side of my body from my eyes and my hands so I was working blindly and pretty much having a heart attack. I said to myself: "Self, the first thing you're gonna do if you ever get out of this dress is CUT OFF THAT FUCKING TAG!" I convinced myself that it would be better to die alone in the dressing room than to die of embarrassment by having to ask someone at Goodwill to come into my dressing room and help get me out of this dress-of-death. So I went to my happy place (where there's wine and chocolate), slowed my breathing and concentrated on not dying. I took my arms out of the top of the dress and was able to turn the dress around just enough that I could see the tag in the zipper. I swear I could hear the tag laughing at me but that may have just been my imagination.

Eventually, I freed the tag from the zipper and cursed at it strongly before extricating myself from the dress without the use of the jaws of life. It was touch and go for awhile, and ultimately, I got myself a pretty cool dress for a really cheap price. 

I can't wait to wear it at BlogU 14 next weekend, and yes, as soon as I got it home, I made that tag my bitch. 

Things that pissed me off today...

Excuse me while I get a few things off my chest.

Photo courtesy morguefile.com

First, to the bitch who barreled out of the McDonalds parking lot this morning: you know who you are, you never slowed down, you never even THOUGHT about looking to see if there was anyone coming. There was. I had to slam on my brakes and my horn and you never even looked in your rear view mirror to see me screaming at you. I hope your Egg McMuffin wasn't cooked properly, and you get some awful stomach bug that makes you shit yourself when you sneeze.

To the boy at 14's school who is supposed to be her friend: remember when you threw her tampon all around the classroom thinking you were hilarious? Remember when her father and I confronted you about it? Remember how you claimed to be her friend and apologized to her and to us, knowing it was stupid and embarrassing to her, and remember how you promised that you'd look out for her in the future when anyone else picked on her? Well, douchenozzle, telling other boys not to mess with her because she'll run home and tell her daddy is NOT looking out for her. It's being an assbag. And if you ever come to my house again, I will point out to you EXACTLY how much of a fuckwit you are and in no uncertain terms, I will let you know that you are NEVER to show your face at my door again, I will NEVER offer you a ride anywhere when you are stranded and you will NEVER treat my daughter like you've been treating her lately. That's NOT how friends treat each other. I hope you eat some bad Chinese food and shit yourself in class when you sneeze.

To the fucktards at Morning Joe: I heard this morning that you made an off the cuff remark about the shooter at UCSB being "on the Aspergers scale, no big surprise" as if that's the reason he shot and killed all those innocent students. I hate your show, I hate what you said and I hope you get the same stomach ailment that the bitch from the McDonalds parking lot gets and that when you sneeze on your show tomorrow, you shit yourself on live TV.

Okay, thanks for letting me get that off my chest. I feel much better now.

Raindrops on roses, and whiskers on kittens....

Blah blah blah, these are a few of my favorite things.

Dumbass under my bed

I don't do a real good Julie Andrews impression. As a matter of fact, when I was in either 7th or 8th grade, our high school was putting on the play The Sound of Music and was looking for elementary kids to audition. My friend Sue (who could sing circles around me) convinced me to try out for the play as one of the Von Trapp kids. I don't remember if Sue made it but I certainly did not. I bombed my audition when my voice cracked as I tried to hit the high notes. Instead of it sounding beautiful and melodious when I sang Do Re Mi, it sounded more like DON'T, You're Raping My Ears. Suffice it to say, that was the beginning and the end of my career in the theater.

Anyway, I'm digressing from the point of today's post (and I really DO have a point, I just usually take forever getting around to it). I want to tell you about some of MY favorite things, and they don't include raindrops OR whiskers. Whiskey, maybe, but not whiskers.

In no particular order, I present to you, some of my favorite things:

Watching my kids perform. Doesn't matter if they are playing volleyball, basketball, track or music. One of my very favorite things is seeing them use their talents. When they were younger and played soccer, nothing would give me greater pleasure than seeing them dribble the ball up the field, pass it back and forth with their teammates and then take that shot and watch the ball whiz past the goalie. More recently, I love watching them stand on the foul line and take a free throw that is the go-ahead shot in the game. And don't even get me started on seeing them perform music with their respective bands. Since I am not even remotely athletically or musically inclined it just makes me so proud that they HAVE talent and USE that talent.

14, my volleyball star
Photo courtesy of Brian Englebright

16, my hurdling hero
Photo courtesy of Rollie Jacobs

Baking on a hot beach, on a lounge chair with my feet in the ocean. Seriously, it's awesome and something I wish I could do more of, but sadly, when you live 4 hours from the closest ocean, it's a little difficult. When I lived in Ocean City, NJ I didn't do this NEARLY as much as I should have. Another thing that just melts my butter is tubing along on a lazy river with friends or family. Last summer, I tubed the Potomac with some amazing friends for about 4 hours. We relaxed, drank, laughed and had a blast.

Spending time with this crew, doing things together, or just sitting and watching TV when we're all in the same room. I bitch and moan about them but I love them to bits and love spending time with them. Things are going to be mighty different next year when 16 becomes 17 and graduates from High School. Totally not ready for that, so I will enjoy the time we have between now and then. 

My crew in Disney from 2012

This guy. This picture.

Me, carrying Mike Rowe, wanting to never put him down.

These three. They never fail to bring a smile to my face on a daily basis. If they didn't shed so damn much, life would be close to perfect.

My Henry

My Cosmo

My Dumbass

And I'm just saying, when the dog bites or the bee stings, I'm not just feeling sad, I'm pretty freaking pissed off. Remembering my favorite things when my skin is hanging open from a dog bite doesn't help me not feel so bad. When a bee stings me, thinking about kitties and bright copper kettles does NOTHING to ease my pain. And those silver white winters that I thought would NEVER melt into springs??? You can keep that white shit, Julie. Keep it right over there in Vienna where it belongs. Give me 90 degree temps and a hot beach with a cool drink. THAT'S what I need to make me feel better.

People are weird...

That's a quote from my FB page today on a post I just made. And you're right, Andrea Foreman Pendergraff, people ARE weird.

I love checking the terms people use to find my blog. I get the normal search terms like: Is Mike Rowe married? Mike Rowe gay? Mike Rowe single? Mike Rowe naked? I'm still waiting for someone to search for "Is Mike Rowe having a torrid affair with that girl from Snarkfest?" but that hasn't happened yet.

Yet.

Anyway, getting back to search terms, people are, indeed, weird. I wrote a post 2 years ago and the prompt was something about waking up as a member of the opposite sex. My post started out with me waking up and scratching my balls. Now I get people everyday finding my blog by searching "balls". Yes, weird.

Speaking of weird, I love reading weird stories on the whacknet. I found this story out of Florida where a prosecutor posted his thoughts on crack ho's (hoes? What IS the plural of crack ho?) and Supreme Court Justices. Can I just tell you that I thought people who went to law school were 'apposed to be smart? This guy? Not so much. Prepare to be astonished at what they let graduate from law school. Here are his 2 quotes, taken from his Facebook page, which he THOUGHT would be private. Here's a tip, counselor, NOTHING you put on the whacknet is private. NO-THING.

Quote 1:  "Happy Mother's Day to all the crack hoes out there. It' never too late to turn it around, tie your tubes, clean up your life, and make difference to someone out there that deserves a better mother."

Quote 2: (this one regarding Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor) "Reason enough why no country should ever engage in the practice of Affirmative Action again. This could be the result. Where would she be if she didn't hit the quota lottery? Here's a hint: 'Would you like to supersize that sir'?"

I do realize that everyone is entitled to his/her own opinion, even assbags. But if you're a prosecutor, someone in an authoritative position in the legal system, aren't you supposed to know better than to post stuff like that on the net? Stupid weirdos.

I'm going to leave you with this bit of weirdness to get you started on your long holiday weekend. Has God ever told you to steal a skateboard? Apparently, God had a sit down with this guy in California and told him that these kids were apparently in danger and it would be a good idea to steal one of their skateboards and try to run away with it. Sure, happens to me all the time.  I see a woman walking down the street with an eclair, and God says "Snarky, beat her with your shoe and take the pastry!" Who am I to say no to God? For God's sake, he's God!


Anyway this guy was a 2nd grade teacher. Read that sentence again. A 2nd grade teacher pushed a kid, stole his skateboard and then said God told him to do it. Is there any wonder why I fear for the future?? Because people are weird.

I Just Want to Be Alone...

I was supposed to write this review when the book first came out, but then life happened. Overwhelmed with band, volleyball, track, more band, work, house, dogs, band again....you get the idea. So now I'm making good on my word to review the book "I Just Want to Be Alone." The book is the follow-up anthology to the equally hilarious "I Just Want to Pee Alone." (I was in that!)

When I got this book from Amazon, I immediately searched for the essays of some of my favorite bloggers: Michelle from You're My Favorite Today, Rebecca from Frugalista Blog, Meredith from The Mom of the Year, Karen from Baby Sideburns, Bethany from I Love Them Most When They're Sleeping....

I could go on and on, but suffice it to say, those awesome ladies and tons of others are in this book. Compiled by Jen, the mastermind of People I Want to Punch in the Throat, this second anthology is directed at husbands, boyfriends, significant others and better halves. Some rants, some stories, all entertaining!

From Meredith's husband's go at bee-keeping, Rebecca's husband's diaper-changing abilities (or lack thereof), Michelle's husband's bed-wetting experience to Karen's husband's bowel issues, this book is chock full of funny stuff. Some names you'll remember from Book 1 and some new names make up this amusing and entertaining look at life with men.

It's an easy read, you can do a chapter each time you sit down to pee (alone), while you're waiting for your gyno appointment with Dr. Jellyfinger or after your little crumbsnatchers go to sleep (again, for the 4th time) at night. Wherever you can sneak in a quick chapter, you won't be disappointed! Buy the book and visit the blogs of the amazingly funny ladies who make up "I Just Want to Be Alone." And tell 'em Snarky sent ya.

Lazy people really boil my lobsters...

After reading this post by the lovely and talented Robyn of Hollow Tree Ventures, I was inspired to write my own take on this issue. It's one that I just had to deal with on a major scale and it pissed me off. It's something that has happened for the past 3 years, and for some reason, this year it just really churned my butter.

Let me 'splain it to you. I am the coordinator for our High School band's spring banquet. My first year (16's freshman year) I co-coordinated with my friend Mimzy (you can read her blog here, she's awesome). That year, her son graduated and she had one year off after that before her youngest was a freshman, so 16's Sophomore year, I took over the job. Confused yet? Good.

Here's how we do this every year. It's a potluck dinner that we hold in the cafeteria, and each class brings something: Freshman bring salads, Sophomores bring sides, Juniors bring main dishes and Seniors bring desserts/beverages. Are you with me? Good.

Now to the aggravating part. Every year we send out a blanket email invitation from the band director explaining the deal, asking for the folks to bring stuff and reminding them to RSVP to one of us (me or Mimzy, who is back in the HS in full swing with her youngest). This same message also goes out to all parents in the county's school portal, Livegrades. It's on the band's website. Every parent should see this in one way or another. The kids all talk about it. So explain to me WHY in the WORLD NO ONE RSVP's??? Yet they show up! And SOME show up EMPTY HANDED!!! Here's a little breakdown for you:

2012 -  125 kids in band,  59 families RSVP, 215 were expected, over 300 people showed up
2013 -  147 kids in band,  57 families RSVP, 220 were expected, over 350 people showed up
2014 -  155 kids in band,  64 families RSVP, 244 were expected, OVER 430 people showed up

This year, we ran out of chicken before the last table was sent up to the buffet (the band booster organization provides the chicken each year). We ran out of forks. We ran out of plates. Why? Because HOW can you POSSIBLY plan a banquet when you expect 250 people and almost 200 more show up? How hard is it to respond to an email? Make a phone call? Send a damn text? Shit, I see a great many of these folks at sporting events, concerts and even the grocery store! Couldn't you just say "Hey there will be 3 of us at the banquet, see you then!"???? Is that so friggin' hard?? I could scream!

I walked around that cafeteria saying hello to folks and under my breath I was whispering to myself: "You didn't RSVP, YOU didn't RSVP, and oh, there's ANOTHER family who didn't RSVP." Yes, I must have looked nuts.

Now, here is our big quandary. Next year's band will be the biggest we've ever had. We have 180 kids signed up. Our cafeteria seats 450 UNcomfortably. Seriously, this year at 430 attendees, we were packed in there like sardines. We are averaging about 41% of band families RSVP'ing to the event. Let me put it to you plainly: WE. ARE. SCREWED.

So I'm putting this question to you, my dear Snarklings: How do you get people to listen to an RSVP? And what measures should we take in the future to ensure we have enough room? Do we make it band kids only? Or only invite Senior parents?  I like the Senior parents idea, and if you are a parent of a kid in another grade and want to attend, not only is RSVP MANDATORY, but you also have to come and help set up and stay for clean up. Damn right I'm bitchy about this subject.

Mike Rowe: Naked for a good cause...

Photo courtesy of Mike Rowe's FB page

I just want to blow raspberries on his naked tummy.

Where was I? Oh right. Naked Mike. This picture is from a commercial shoot that apparently, Standards and Practices didn't approve of. What a bunch of prudes. Here is the full commercial, but sadly, there is no Full Monty. And you can read exactly WHY Mike is almost naked on his Facebook page at this link.