Merry Christmas and Snarky New Year, or how I came to hate telemarketers.

Merry Christmas Eve, Snarklings!

Thanks to all of you who commented on the Christmas Blues post, you guys have no idea how tremendously better you made me feel with all of your words. It's great to know that I'm not alone in feeling overwhelmed. I'm happy to report that my baking is finished, shopping is done, my wrapping is wrapped up, (see what I did there?) my mood is lighter and my house is still a shit hole. Hopefully that will have changed by the time I get home from work today. 16 & 14 were both given the directive to clean up said shit hole or there will not be a single gift under the tree tomorrow morning. Yeah, that's how I roll. Mrs. Grinch. So sue me.

Shifting gears here for a moment, I just got one of those annoying automated calls on my cell phone. I find I've been getting more and more of them.

"This is Assface from your credit card company. There is no problem with your account, however you now have an opportunity to lower your percentage rate!" 

Me: "WOW What a great automated person Assface is, trying to save me money! How can I learn more, Assface???

Assface: "Press 1 to speak with a REAL LIVE HUMAN to discuss lowering your rate!!" 

Naturally, I nearly break my finger pressing 1 with the enthusiasm of a child opening a present on Christmas morning (a child who has cleaned up her shit hole of a house, of course).

Real live human douchebag: "Rude Dude here, how can I help you today?"

Me: "Hey Rude Dude, I wish to be put on your DO NOT CALL list please. "

Real live human Rude Dude: "click"

He hung up on me!!! I was SHOCKED!

That's almost as bad as the call I received the other night. 14 answered the phone and I heard her say "hello" several times before she actually got an answer. "Hold on, she's right here". She handed me the phone and again, I repeatedly said "Hello" before "Ken Johnson" came on the to tell me (in his clearest voice with the heaviest Indian accent I have ever heard) that my computer was sending out too many critical errors and that I needed to do something about it. Please don't ask me what I needed to do because I couldn't understand one flipping word that "Ken Johnson" was telling me. "Ken" and I were both talking at the same time so it made it even more difficult to ascertain exactly what he wanted from me, so I told them that I wanted him to put me on his DO NOT CALL list. "Ken's" response to me was simply one word: "WHY?"

Why?? How about because I don't know what you want from me, I don't have any account with you and I don't wish to receive anymore calls from you, how about that, "Ken Johnson"??

This was "Ken Johnson's" response, and I swear to Allah that I am not making this up: "No, but you have to open an account with me!"

Um, what? Really? No, I really don't think I do, "Ken Johnson".

I have my home phone on the national DO NOT CALL list, and I have all the cell phone numbers we have also listed on the national DO NO CALL list, and still, they continue to call. And THIS is why we need to stop spending forty-nine bazillion dollars on determining why some rats like brie and others prefer limberger cheese and start cracking down on the "Ken Johnsons" of the telemarketing world.

Ok, rant over. Now that I've gotten that off my chest, I want to say that I hope your 2014 is filled with love, laughter and NO TELEMARKETING PHONE CALLS!! Merry Christmas, Snarklings!

Christmas Blues.......I gotz 'em

half and half
eggs
juice
butter

Oh, hey, sorry, just making my list for the grocery store. Got more baking to do tonight. After all, it is the Christmas season. It's the time of year for magic, caroling, decorating the tree and spending time with family, holiday shopping, writing out cards. Normally I've got it. But the past few years, I've started to lose my grasp on things. Maybe it's because my kids are getting older. Maybe it's because I'm so far away from my Mom, but it gets tougher every year for me to get into the Christmas spirit. When I lived in Jersey, I looked forward to this time of year as soon as my Thanksgiving Dinner was digested. But since I moved here to WV, it gets harder and harder for me to get into the spirit every year. A few years ago, we didn't even get a tree. The kids put up pictures of decorated Christmas trees next to the fireplace, with a request for Santa to leave the presents there. Pathetic, huh?

This year it's probably the worst it's ever been. Yes, I'm stressed about money. Who isn't? And I'm also stressed that it is exactly ONE WEEK until Christmas Day, and I haven't baked nearly as much I have in previous years, nor have I written out a single card, my house isn't the slightest bit decorated (except for about 6 cards taped up in a doorway). We have the tree standing in the garage and I'm hopeful that it will eventually make its way into the house. I'll have the girls decorate it this weekend. But since we've had basketball games or practices every night, a wedding back in NJ this past weekend, band concerts, Christmas parties for various activities, we haven't had a single moment to relax.

This year I promised 16 that I'd get her a varsity lettermen's jacket for Christmas. Unfortunately, the store where I want to make the purchase doesn't have very convenient hours, so we haven't even made it there for her to TRY ON a damn jacket. Yes she'll get her jacket, but it might not be until after St. Patrick's Day. Merry Christmas, darling.

And for the love of God why can't I stop crying?? I'm telling you, the older I get, the more emotional I get. And I say FUCK YOU MENOPAUSE!! I swear, I cry all the damn time. At the stupidest of things. I read an article on AOL about a guy whose seeing eye dog saved his life after the guy fell onto the tracks from a subway platform. When I read that the dog is 11 and will be retiring soon, and that the guy can't afford to keep him and he's looking for a home for the dog, I cried like a baby. Then I remembered that my friend Mindy just lost her kitty this week, and cried even harder.

I miss my Dad, I miss our talks on the phone. If he were alive today, we'd be discussing how ridiculous Ruben Amaro Jr.'s decisions have become when it comes to acquiring new players for the Phillies. And Dad would be so excited if he knew that there was going to be a new 24 movie next summer. But he's gone and I miss him.

I miss my Mom who is thankfully still with us but suffering from COPD and is on oxygen 24/7 these days. I don't know how many more Christmases I'll have with her and being so far away from her just breaks my heart. So naturally, I cry.

I cry for those who will spend Christmas alone this year because they've lost loved ones, or because their loved ones are deployed. I cry at video clips of soldiers and sailors surprising their loved ones by coming home unexpectedly. I cry at sad Christmas songs. Shit I cry at HAPPY Christmas songs. I cry when I hear the Waitresses singing about the guy in the line she's been chasin' all year and they realize that they won't be spending Christmas alone this year after all.

I just have the blues. Am I alone? How do you cheer yourself up and get yourself out of the holiday rut?

Facebook, you're a tool.

I don't even know how much it will help to post this on my Snarkfest page, because Facebook has DRASTICALLY decreased how many people see posts.  Many of my blogging friends who have thousands and thousands of followers have seen a huge decrease in traffic on FB and a tremendous dip in how many of their posts are actually seen by the people who like their pages. It's easy for us to say "Go to where it says "Like" on FB and click "Get Notifications" but that doesn't even seem to be working. 

So what I'm asking is this: Keep checking my Facebook page for new content, even if you don't see anything new from me in your newsfeed. Do this for ALL the pages you like and want to hear from.

Secondly, if you don't want to miss any of my blog posts, please subscribe to receive my blog in your email or follow my blog posts on Bloglovin'. You can do both of these from this blog page over there on the right side where it says "Subscribe via Email" or "Follow Me". I promise to NEVER EVER send you a bunch of spam.


Lastly, please share stuff you find humorous or thought provoking on the pages of bloggers or humorists you enjoy reading. Word of mouth is a powerful tool and lately, FB has been taking a lot of tools away from us.

What's That, Snarky? A Giveaway??

That's right, Snarklings! I'm telling you right now that I have just finished a ridiculously funny book, and I'm giving away a FREE COPY of it. What book, you ask?? "You Have Lipstick On Your Teeth" which was edited by Leslie Marinelli (the Bearded Iris herself!) and contains absolutely hysterical essays from some of my all-time favorite bloggers. These bloggers are all bloggers who have been featured on the awesome site, In the Powder Room. One of these days I'm hoping to be invited to hang out with the cool chicks from the Powder Room but until then, I'll have to read  and admire them from afar.

But YOU get the chance to win a copy of their book "You Have Lipstick On Your Teeth" as well as a copy of our very own awesomely fantastic book "I Just Want to Pee Alone", which has now sold over 20,000 copies!!! I am so excited and proud of this book and I can't wait to share it with you.

Seriously, some of my favorite bloggers are here including Abby of Abby Has Issues who discusses how she would be okay with being a Consolation Prize Wife as opposed to a Trophy Wife.  Or how about Lady Estrogen, whose lady parts look like, um, a vegetable that one usually serves smothered in melted cheese!! MaNNaHaTTaMaMMa's Cautionary Tale about peri-menopause had me cracking up, not AT her but WITH her because it's happening to me AS I'M TYPING THIS.

I can't leave out my fellow Pee Book authors who are also featured in this book. There's Amy of Family is Funny, who talks about the ABC Club which is a club I'd definitely belong to. Because I'm definitely Anti-B.....sorry, you'll have to read this story to learn more. Allison of MotherhoodWTF cracked me up with her story of an oral dilemma. And my girl Frugalista Blog had me peeing in MY pants discussing peeing in her FRIEND'S pants. Yes, you read that right. There are so many fantastic bloggers in this book and I want YOU to have a copy. And a copy of MY book too! The contest runs until next Monday so Tweet daily and enter now! It's a Rafflecopter, so you know the deal. Go for it! And good luck!


a Rafflecopter giveaway

Minions and Twinkies and Makeovers, Oh My!!

Got a little secret to share with you. Shhhhh, don't tell anyone. When I was in high school, about a thousand years ago, I had a huge crush on a guy named Twinkie. Yes, you read that right, Twinkie. Twinkie was on the wrestling team. People called him Twinkie and he was okay with it. Being on the wrestling team, you'd think that if someone calls a guy Twinkie, someone would get a swift kick in the ass, right? Not so much. This guy was big. And hot. And no, his momma didn't really name him Twinkie, that was just his nickname and I needed a lead-in to this post about Twinkies. And decorating Twinkies to look like the Minions from the movie Despicable Me 2. Apparently, this movie is set to be released on Blue-Ray soon and someone wanted me to write about this contest that's being sponsored by Universal Studios and Hostess (who THANK GOD started making Twinkies again).

Image courtesy: Wallcapture.com
Aren't they just the cutest stinking things????

And damn if they don't look just like Twinkies! That's what the contest thingy is about. Give your Twinkie a Minion Makeover to look like cute and adorable Minions from Despicable Me 2 and you can win stuff. More about that later. I've taken to my Snarkfest FB page and asked for one-liners from my friends and Snarklings describing their thoughts on the movie (which again, I should probably see since the first one was totes adorbs). Now, I must tell you that I have to go bleach my brain because I just typed the words 'totes adorbs' and I HATE anything that's 'totes' OR 'adorbs' but that's what the kids are saying these days and I gotsta stay current, yo.

I digress, as uszhe. So this is what the Snarklings are saying about Despicable Me 2:

"BEE-DOH, BEE-DOH, BEE-DOH" ~  Snarkling Minday (whose son Ganna is totes adorbs)
"Twinkles gross me out" ~ Snarkling Fran (who is awesome, by the way, even if Twinkles gross her out)
"Made us laugh, made us cry" ~ Snarkling Tanya (who may or may not be off her meds)
"It was better than Cats!" ~ Snarkling Theresa (who KNOWS her Cats!)
"Twenty one fart gun salute!" ~ Snarkling Sharon (who, you guessed it, knows her farts)
"Haven't seen it but two lies scare me almost as much as minions!" ~ Snarkling Evil Joy (whose autocorrect hates Twinkies too)

So there you have the shining reviews of a totally cute movie, and a cool contest whereby you decorate phallic shaped cream filled baked goods and win cool stuff. Does it GET any better??? I think not.

So here are the details of the contest for those of you who are still with me. You can read the rest, I'm going to go buy a box of Twinkies and reminisce on my high school days.

Image courtesy: wallcee.com
How do you find overalls to fit 7 Twinkies???

Sweepstakes Details: 
HOSTESS INVITES FANS TO GIVE TWINKIES A MINION MAKEOVER!
Hostess and Universal Studios Celebrate the Despicable Me 2 release on Blu-ray, DVD and Digital HD with The Twinkie Minion Makeover Sweepstakes! The Limited Edition Minion Makeover Packaging hits shelves as the holiday season gets underway. Hostess is inviting fans across the country to kick up their creativity and dress up their favorite golden, crème-filled treats and “Minion-ize” their Twinkies for the chance to win great prizes. Now through January 5, 2014, Hostess lovers can make the season a little brighter by visiting https://www.facebook.com/Hostess and https://www.Facebook.com/Hostess/app_170621563134175 to download a collection of Minion accessories, and make their own Twinkie Minion. Fans can then upload pictures of their creations to enter to win a daily instant prize, which includes a Despicable Me 2 Blu-ray™ and special offers from Hostess, or the grand prize, which includes a Home Theater System, a collection of 30 Blu-rays and a year’s supply of Hostess treats.

Overlooking Those We Love, Those Who Need Our Love

This isn't a typical "I'm thankful" post. No, today I am feeling very very sad. The religious like to say that God does not give us more than we can handle. I've never subscribed to that point of view, and if you do, more power to you, I'm not doubting your beliefs. I'm just saying that when I was growing up, there were times when we thought, "Hey, God, could you focus on someone else for just a little while? We're gonna have to open a window pretty soon."  But that was then and this is now, and now I'm a grown up and have lots of things to be thankful for, grateful for, and to worry about.

Life has thrown us a few curve balls over the course of the past week. Currently, we are down to one car. The car that is no longer with us saved my husband's life. There is no doubt in my mind that if he was driving our Saturn, this would be a totally different blog post. Then there is 16, who has had a fever since Friday. Doctor says it's the flu and naturally she's gotta ride it out with fluids and Ibuprofen.  And there's Thanksgiving! Who could forget Thanksgiving? I'm cooking for 10! The house needs to be cleaned, the tables need to be moved, the bedding all needs to be washed and redone. Lots going on.

Which is why I feel absolutely horrible about what transpired right under my nose and I had no clue. My beautiful 14 was supposed to play volleyball this winter with the club in which she played last year. She even received an email from the team this past Sunday (when she was out helping me with Thanksgiving grocery shopping) stating that the first team meeting would be on the same night as one of her basketball games. We laughed about it and I told her we'd figure something out. And then I forgot about it because I had to get gas and go home and make dinner and blah blah blah.....

Yesterday, 14 forwarded an email to me. I had taken the day off from work to take 16 to the doctor and then to go empty out the remains of the car that saved hubby's life. I assumed that the email was the same email that 14 had received on Sunday about the team meeting. I ignored it. I've been bitching and whining about the house and no one helping me clean. And I still hadn't checked the email.

Until now. Let me make one thing perfectly clear: 14 LOVES VOLLEYBALL. And she's pretty damn good at it too. She picked up a volleyball in 6th grade for probably the first time at tryouts. And she was good enough to be put on JV AND Varsity. She's good. No kidding. And she LOVES the game. She eats it, sleeps it and breathes it. Are you getting the picture? Good.

So I finally got around to reading the email that she forwarded to me. And my heart sank. The coach had emailed her, apologizing profusely. There wasn't enough interest, they didn't have enough girls to field a team for U15, she was not eligible to play U14. My girl sat on this information and never said anything to be because of all that has been going on around her. She kept this inside. And I know she is brokenhearted about it. The coach did make her a pretty cool offer to help as a volunteer assistant coach for younger girls. She'd get to help them at practices, but it wouldn't be the same for her. She wants to play.  And the coach paid her a very high complement, saying that 14 "is a good person with very high character for only being 14, and is a great role model for young girls just starting out." But still, she doesn't get to play. And she never told me, because of everything else that's going on in our lives at this moment. Her dad. Her sister who's sick. Thanksgiving.

The coach was right, she IS a good person, she DOES have very high character, she IS a great role model to younger girls. But she's also selfless, kind, caring, compassionate, smart, funny, sarcastic, energetic, athletic, beautiful, witty, confident and amazing. I'm so proud to be her mother that sometimes my heart feels like it will explode with pride.

And so, to my baby girl, I'm so sorry that we've overlooked your needs this week. I promise I will try very hard to be aware of your needs and I promise that if you send me an email, I WILL READ IT.

If you ask me what I'm thankful for, right at this moment, I'd tell you I'm thankful for the following:

The restraint system on the Chevy Equinox
The warmth, health and love of my family
The generosity and love of my friends
The patience and love of my daughters
The love of my husband, who I hope will be around for many many more years

Picture Books, Duran Duran and Highway Robbery

It's no secret that I'm a huge Duran Duran fan. Everyone knows it, and those who don't know it live under a rock. I've seen them live over 20 times, I've traveled far and wide to see them, and to visit my girls for Duranie weekends. Or as we like to call them, BITCHES weekends. We have a tight-knit group of about 30 of us and we all try to get together at least once a year, just to hang out. For us, the band brought us together, but our friendships now go MUCH deeper than our love for the band.

And let me be clear on one thing: NONE of us are independently wealthy. NONE of us live in a mansion, NONE of us shop on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Most of us have families, mortgages, car payments, the usual. And we have one more thing in common: we all think the band has GIGANTIC CUJONES for what they are charging for a new book out this month.

Photographer Denis O'Regan followed the band around on their Sing Blue Silver tour and took a bunch of pictures. Now he's put together a book of over 200 color and black & white photos, bound it in cloth and they have the AUDACITY to charge £250 for it (to save you the trouble, that's $403 to us here in the US. Shocked? How about the £500 (That's right, $806 US) for the 'Deluxe Edition' signed by all 5 original band members? If that doesn't get you, there's also a £2500 (you guessed it, over $4000!) edition which is described as: "containing contemporary fine art prints and 1984 vintage prints, together with handwritten lyrics of one of the band's classic hits by Simon LeBon." My guess is it's that over-done, over-played make-my-ears-bleed song Hungry Like The Wolf. YUCK.

Well let me tell YOU something, Denis O'Regan, Simon, John, Nick, Roger and Andy. There's NO way on God's green Earth that I or ANY of my Durannie girls will EVER part with that much green for a book of pictures, with or without your autographs.

You've gotten a lot of money from us over the years, but (to quote Simon LeBon) you've gone too far this time.

If you are a Duran fan and you have the extra cash to fork over for one of these coffee table books, good on ya. But if you are a normal person with a limited income, this is an exorbitant amount of money and for them to expect a fan to part with that kind of cash for this book is BEYOND the scope of fandom. It borders on extortion.

Do we love the band? Yes. Are we insane enough to part with our hard earned money for this? No. Flippin. Way.

Sorry, I just had to get that off my chest. And in the illustrious words of my girlfriend Joelle:

"For £2500 that book better be fucking hand delivered and Simon better be scrubbing my toilets, while Nick does the laundry, John runs the vacuum, and Roger does the dishes. I'll let Dom off the hook since he probably isn't included. Oh wait, Andy's included? Well then take out the trash."

Why I'm Out of Contention for Wife/Mother of the Year: A Snarkfest Confession

The amazing Frugalista Blog is healing from a football injury, and in her blogging absence, she's having some guest bloggers fill in for her until she's back in action. And one of her guests is the phenomenal Keesha from Mom's New Stage. Keesha's post is a fantastic confession of ways that she sucks.

This got me thinking that it's been a really rough week at Casa Snarkfest, and I think that it's very important that you all know that I'm NOT a very nice person sometimes (shut up, I said SOMEtimes, not 24/7). I think it's also important that you know that my family usually ends up on the receiving end of my not-so-niceness and they deserve an apology. So to that end, I'm presenting you all a list of reasons I sometimes suck at this whole wife/mother thing. The list below, in no particular order, is my way of apologizing to my family for my short-comings. I hope to improve on this soon. Until then, please don't change the locks on the front door.

A. I am a lousy housekeeper. You know it. I know it. And while I piss and moan to you all about not folding and putting laundry away, I continue to pile dirty dishes in the sink and then bitch that they are still in there days later. I'm just as much at fault as you are.

B. I let things simmer inside until I can't take it anymore, then I explode and let everything pour out, and you are on the receiving end, whether it was your fault or not. I'm talking to all of you. Instead of addressing the issue when it happens, I let it stew and fester, and then one thing sets me off and I look like Milton the Monster when he blows his top. And for that, I am sorry.

C. I am very hard on both 16 and 14. I embarrass them for missing the bus in the hopes that it will motivate them to start making the bus. And apparently, it's backfiring on me. Embarrassing them is mean. And I didn't realize just how mean it was until a 'Come to Jesus' meeting this week in which I realized just how much it has affected them. So I promise to make a concentrated effort to stop using negative reinforcement to motivate, and start using positive reinforcement. Donuts? Puppies? I'm open to suggestions.

D. I have also promised to try to be less, shall we say, 'fly-off-the-handle-like' with my girls. I've never had a teenager before, and they don't come with a manual, so it's pretty much either learn from the mistakes of others, or it's on the job training. So let this be a lesson to other parents who have kids who may soon be teens: listen to them before jumping on their shit. It's a mistake I make way too often. I leap before I look and I often miss the point. And for that, 16 & 14, I'm incredibly sorry. And I'll try to do better.

E. I often phone in my interest, and that's bad. Very bad, m'kay? Phoning in your interest is not cool. So when 14 goes on about how hot Austin Mahone is or how much her You-Tubers crack her up, I promise not to phone in my interest, I promise to listen. If it's important to my kids, then it needs to be important to me too. Because I don't want them to turn to someone else who will feign interest to get them to do things they probably should not be doing. So when you tell me about someone on the team who does this or that, or you tell me that someone in your class is bothersome, or that Harry Styles is the best thing since chocolate Pop-Tarts, I promise to listen and not just nod my head and say 'yup, sure is.'

F. I don't make enough time for my husband, and that's really bad too. Not making time for your husband is bad, m'kay? Marriage is hard, yo. Really hard. But we've been at it for almost 19 years, and he's so cute! It's definitely worth working for, and I am sorry that I don't make enough time for him. I need to make a concentrated effort to make a monthly 'date night' and I'm announcing it here and now (Wolf! Right here and now!) that I'm going to try hard to do this for him and for our marriage.

I think that's enough confession for one day. So to my handsome and funny 49, to my beautiful and amazing 16 and my phenomenal and fantastic 14, I'm sorry that I'm not working hard enough and I promise that I will try harder to be a better person. You girls look to me to be a role model, and I'm going to try to be the person you need me to be. Now go clean your rooms.

Sensitivity and the teenager......

I picked 16 up from basketball practice last night and we were discussing the blog. I told her I was trying to come up with some ideas on a blog about her dad. She asked if I was going to throw him 'out of the bus' like I do with her and her sister. And I said "first of all, it's UNDER the bus, not OUT OF the bus. And B, I don't throw you guys under the bus.


Much."

She then proceeded to explain to me about how I'm always like, "Oh I'm so proud of 16, she's such an awesome kid BUT SHE MISSES THE BUS and she never listens and she does this wrong and that wrong."

I didn't think that I was being mean. I think all teenagers do a lot of the same things. Messy rooms, not doing what's asked of them, being all-consumed with the iPhone, not doing what's asked of them, no sense of urgency, then blaming everyone else when things don't go as planned. I'm not alone in this. I swear, there are other parents out there with kids who are EXACTLY like mine. I write about mine so that other moms will tell me I'm not the only one. Nothing makes me feel better than when someone else says "Oh the same thing happens in my house." Because it makes me feel like I'm NOT sucking as a parent.

These girls didn't come with any training manual, no instructions on how NOT to fuck up their lives. So it's all been trial and error for me. And after the conversation with 16 I felt like it was WAY more error than trial.

And now I'm left wondering if I'm doing more harm than good by writing about them. Blogging about stuff, writing songs when they miss the school bus. I cannot tell you how much they hate those songs. Their friends give them a hard time, their friends' parents kid them about it. I don't do it to be malicious, I do it as a release. It's frustrating to me and I turn my frustration to humor. I have to. Drinking before work is kind of frowned upon.

She says I never write about the GOOD stuff they do.

Make no mistake, I'm incredibly proud of both my daughters. You'll never meet a more proud mom. They are smart, they are beautiful, funny, caring girls. They never rob banks or kick puppies. They never make fun of hobos or break windows. They almost never steal cars. And if they hate my songs about the school bus, maybe they could try MAKING the bus more often. I've already conceded to not writing songs when they MAKE the bus (which is awesome because I'm running out of ideas), and if they never missed the bus again, I'll never have to come with another witty song, ever. Trust me, that would be just fine with me.

So let it be known here and now and henceforth that I DO love my kids, I AM proud of them, they ARE amazing girls, and I hereby apologize to them if they feel that I'm mean to them on my blog or Facebook page.

And let me also say this: being messy, missing the bus and having to be nagged are problems I am THRILLED to have. Because there are other parents out there who have to deal with their children doing drugs, drinking, teen pregnancy, health issues, behavioral problems. Trust me, if the only thing I ever have to worry about is my daughter missing the school bus, I am the luckiest mother on the face of the earth.

It's Halloween and the Assbags are Out!

My friend Joy from Evil Joy (who really is NOT all that Evil) messaged me this morning on the Book de Face telling me that she was reading an article about this chick who is giving out candy to deserving skinny children this Halloween, and letters to those children whom she deems as obese.

Yes, you did read that correctly. She is taking it upon herself to rid the world of obese children, one letter at a time.

Don't believe me? See the news report and hear it from her own mouth here. I'm flabbergasted. And you know I don't get flabbergasted over just anything. Now, don't get me wrong. I totally believe that her motives are pure. She sees a generation of obese kids being raised, she wants to do something about it. How about giving out APPLES instead of candy, you stupid assbag?? There's a novel idea!! Clementines? Raisins? Yes, you'd be considered 'that house' on Halloween, but your house is less likely to be egged if you hand out fruit than it will if you hand out letters to kids telling them that, in YOUR opinion, they are obese, and therefore, deserve to be singled out and put down. Trust me, if my kid ever received a letter stating that, in someone else's opinion, she was obese, the author of said letter would be receiving a visit from me, my attitude, and my size 8 boot up her ass.

I really do understand where she's coming from, but I think the way she's going about it is beyond ridiculous. I think back to my days as an overweight child. My self-esteem was already in the toilet, and it was bad enough that I heard from my bullying peers that my ass was too big, my stomach was fat, etc. But to be handed a letter from a grown woman telling me almost exactly the same thing is crushing. You're obese and don't deserve candy. Your parents aren't doing enough to raise you to be healthy. All in HER opinion. How is she going to make the determination? Is her front porch secretly a scale? Will she have a BMI chart inside her front door? Who is SHE to judge who should and should not receive candy on Halloween?

 I'm sorry, this bitch is just asking to have a crowd of angry parents come knocking on her door. In my opinion, she deserves what's no doubt going to be showing up on her front porch.

If she thinks this is such a big problem, then she should hand out healthy snacks to EVERYONE who comes to her door tomorrow night for trick or treat. Set the standard for EVERY child, not just those who she deems overweight or obese.

Tough Mudder, Part Two

Once again, I am a BAMF. (if you 're not sure what that means, think back to SHAFT). I, along with 5 other bad asses, ran the Tough Mudder Mid Atlantic 2013 held at what seemed like the highest point in West Virginia this past Saturday. The scenery was absolutely breathtaking and I probably would've enjoyed it much more if I wasn't bleeding, crampy, bruised, achy, tired and dying to finish this trek.

The few, the proud, the Fossils. Pre-dirt.

If you didn't know it, this wasn't my first time at this rodeo. I ran the Tough Mudder last August with an equally insane group of folks. We continued the Team Fossil tradition and made it to the finish with only one testicle being lost. (not mine, rest assured). Last year I face planted into the Dirty Ballerina, and luckily for me, we didn't have this obstacle this year. However, we DID have the Cage Crawl, which is a cold water filled muddy pit covered by fencing. You literally get into the dirty, cold pool and with your face about 6" from the fencing, you pull yourself through the mud/water without being able to see how far you've gone or how much farther you have to go. We had quite a delay here because one of the participants had her pinky impaled by the tip of the fencing as she was exiting. While we waited, our fearless photographer, West, captured this image of me.

Ew, I think I have some dirt under my nail! Wait, that's not dirt!

This picture just cracks me up. I know it's blurry but the look on my face (as I am completely covered in mud and probably cow-shit, among other things) is hilarious to me. I'm dirty, I'm smelly, I have mud caked into places NO woman should EVER have mud, and yet I'm picking something dirty off of my hand. I dunno, maybe it's just me. By this point in the race I was delirious from all the effing hills we had to climb.

We once again faced the Arctic Enema, only this year I was better prepared. This year I KNEW how shocked my body was going to be. It didn't make it any easier to get through, but it DID make it easier for my fake husband who was once again behind me. Last year, I froze, literally, in front of him. When I turned to express my shock to him, in slow motion I saw him mouth the word: "MOOOOOVVVEEE!!!!" This year, I moved without prompting from him. I swam under the board in the middle of the pool of ice water, and swam to the end. And bless you sweet baby Jesus there was a ladder at the end this year. Last year, Joseph had to literally catapult me out of the pool and thankfully my teammate Keith was there to save my life. This year I very easily (and pretty damned quickly) climbed out by myself.

We faced several of the same obstacles as last year, and some new obstacles that kicked our asses, just as climbing the hills did. There were giant  hills to climb, and once we scaled the hills, we had to descend them and do pushups. We ascended the next hill, ascended that one and had to do lunges. What the hell kind of sick, torturous mind comes UP with these things??  I should make my KIDS do these things when they miss the bus!

Or subject them to Electroshock Therapy, which is the last obstacle we faced before running up YET ANOTHER damned hill to get to the finish line. This is probably one of my favorite pics that West took, because we made it to the end, no one died, no one lost any limbs (other than that testicle one of us left back at the Berlin Wall) and we all just uttered a gutteral scream of relief.

Crazy shocked Fossils.

 At the finish line, sporting our Tough Mudder headbands (you get this instead of a medal. Go ahead, be jealous) and heading for the free beer, we once again leaned on one another as we did through the 11 miles of dirt, hills, hell, ice water and dirt.

Bring on the beer!

Below is probably, by far, my favorite group picture in the lot. This is what Tough Mudder is all about. You help your team, you help others, others help you. Here is a shot of the 6 of us. I'm in the middle struggling to get my fat ass up that damned hill, my teammates are above me and below me helping, as is another nameless Mudder there grabbing my hand, pulling me to the top of the hill.

Dear God, please get me up this damned hill.

This is what it's all about. And I've completed this thing twice. Next year, I'm going to volunteer. I may not get as dirty or as bruised, but I'll be able to help give to those other Mudders who have gotten me through the past two Tough Mudders I've run.

Things that make me shake my head.....

I can always count on Huffington Post's 'Weird News' page to make me say "Say what???" and this morning is no different. For those who invite potty humor to the dinner table, I give you the Magic Restroom Cafe. I shit you not (sorry, bad pun) this is a real restaurant in L.A. that has toilets for seats, toilet bowls for dishes and some really gross-out names for its signature dishes. My personal least favorite is the "Bloody Number Two".

Another story that made me pretty furious was the AOL story about the woman who was walking with her boyfriend near the Ala Wai Boat Harbor in Waikiki, HI when she heard the sounds of dogs (a LOT of dogs) barking from a car. She called 911 and opened an unlocked door to a Honda Fit (trust me, Matchbox cars look like Hummers compared to these little cars). Inside the Fit were 21 dogs. Let that sink in for a second. Picture a Matchbox car, now picture 21 dogs inside, now imagine all this in the Hawaiian tropical heat. Some of the Pomeranian-Poodle mixed dogs were crammed into crates and some were running around the car free. The story is that the owner of the Fit was the mother of the breeder of the dogs, and the mother took the dogs without permission. BOTH of these folks should be slapped upside the head with a bat. Absolutely disgusting.

If this doesn't make you say "What the what???" I don't know what will. Wine for Cats. That's right, I said Wine.........for your cat. I've got some bad news for my Dumbass. Momma doesn't share her wine. It's bad enough sometime she gets her disgusting cat hair IN my wine. Now from Japan, there's wine for your cat. I. Don't. Think. So.

Back off, kitty, that's MY Cabernet!!!
Photo courtesy: 123RF.com

And to finish up your Wednesday morning, this one made me smile. It's one for my friend Toby's site, Dumbass News.  He's always got great stories of really smart people, like this Einstein, who called the cops because he got stiffed on a drug deal. Seriously. Apparently he was selling prescription drugs for $1.25 each, not realizing that this was, in fact, illegal to sell prescription drugs, and when the buyer stiffed him, he called the police to report it. When they didn't show up right away, he called them three more times to see what was taking them so long. Apparently he was in a hurry to get locked in the pokey. I love stupid people.

Happy Birthday, 14!!

I want to wish a very Happy Birthday to my baby girl, 14. She is sweet, funny, smart, athletic and can do anything she puts her mind to. I love her MORE than wine and chocolate (today, anyway). She is, my 14:

Happy Birthday, babe. Love you!!

Tuesday Tirade.....GPS and Twin Oaks Restaurant

Hey Snarklings! Over the weekend 13 and I traveled with her volleyball team to a tournament in Clarksburg, WV. It was a nice drive over beautiful mountain roads with a fun group of parents and players, however, my GPS hates my guts and took me on a journey that I don't think Stephen King himself could've thought up. The hotel was off of I-79 on Tolley Road. Apparently there are 2 Tolley Roads in that area. My husband and I have a joke that when there is a 50-50 chance of getting something right, 90% of the time, I'll pick the wrong answer. In this case, my GPS was 50-50-90.  "Exit now, and make a left onto Joy Rd." it said.

"Are you sure?" I questioned, "Because that's not looking like much of a road."

"Trust me" said my GPS. I swear I could hear a faint snicker. I turned left onto Joy Rd. and almost immediately regretted that decision. It was a one lane dirt road and I drove about 50 feet when I was met with an SUV coming the opposite way. On a one lane dirt road. I pulled to the side to let him pass and almost went off the cliff.

"Drive 2 miles, then turn left onto Tolley Rd." my GPS instructed.

"Really? Because I've been on Joy Rd for 12 seconds and just almost died." I argued.

"Just dooooooo it." My GPS whispered. I did as I was told and traveled for 2 miles up a dark, twisty, scary road, taking my life in my hands, when at last I came upon Tolley Rd.  The clouds parted, the sky turned blue, angels sang as I turned left, as instructed, onto Tolley Rd.

"Drive .7 miles, end at Days Inn on right" said my GPS, as if he had led me to the promised land, after 40 years in the desert.  I drove .7 miles and then I heard banjos. No Days Inn, no promised land, only banjos. Dear God, the banjos.

Thankfully, a nice farmer got off his plow, put down his banjo and came to my rescue. Apparently, there are two Tolley Roads in that area and my GPS did the old 50-50-90 (bastard). The farmer gave me the proper directions and sent us on our way, safely, with no one asking me to squeal like a pig.

We arrived at the hotel (20 minutes later than everyone else, thanks GPS) and put our things in our room. The girls went to hit the volleyball around for a bit while the coach and parents decided on where to go for dinner. Our coach is from that area and she said someone had recommended we eat at the Twin Oaks Restaurant.  We had a rather large group, 17 in all, so she called ahead to make sure they had room.

The person who answered the phone could NOT have been anymore rude if he tried. When the coach said there were 17 of us, she was told we could not go there for dinner. 'We don't have room.' She asked if we could maybe go a bit later, perhaps they could put some tables together if given enough time, and the answer she received was "No, we don't want you here."

Photo courtesy: monkeyworlds.com

It's not like we were taking a group of  howler monkeys to eat, we had 8 girls and 9 parents, all over the age of 13, all pretty much potty trained, yet we were told in no uncertain terms. "We don't want you here." So I decided to do the right thing, and tell every one I know how wonderful I thought that was. Great decision on the part of the person who answered the phone.

The power of the internet is unbelievable. One bad review, one bad word can lead to more bad reviews, which leads to a drop in business. I'm not saying I hold the power to make or break a business, but I am snarky and bitchy and am not afraid of telling it like it is. So if you are ever in the area of Bridgeport or Clarksburg, WV and you're looking for an amazing meal, go to Oliverio's, the restaurant who was more than helpful in accommodating a group of 17 as soon as we called, and who provided outstanding service and incredible food to us. If you're looking for a shit hole with awful customer service and poor reviews, go to Twin Oaks. Tell 'em Snarky sent ya.

How to wake your kids up for school in the morning: The Reality

Getting those kids out of bed in the morning. It's a no-brainer, really. If you read this article, it's chock full of great tips and helpful hints for a gloriously happy morning in your household. Even the title screams positivity! Ten Positive Ways to Wake Your Kids Up for School! Your darling angels will wake up happy and smiling, which will, of course, start your day off in a magnificent way. What could possibly go wrong?

See?? Isn't that magnificent?? I'm happier already. In MY reality, that list of ways to rouse your amazing offspring doesn't tell the full story. Here, I'mma tell you the REAL truth, as I see it in Snarkworld. Now, y'all know I've had a bit of a rough go of it over the past few weeks 16 years. I've learned a little something over the course of those years when dealing with my girls in the morning. So here goes a sort of point/counter point to this article, as I see it. All opinions are my own and as you would expect, they are a bit on the snarky side. What else would they be?

1. Reticular Activating Formation. They say it's our internal alarm clock. I say Rectangular what? They say to open the blinds during the night to slowly let the light in. 16's bus comes at 7:03. The sun is barely up. May-hap I should call the school and ask them to start just a smidge later? So that my adorable little cuddle-bunnies can gradually awaken to the sun's natural glow? Can I just tell you that one evening a few weeks ago, I was sitting out back with Lisa (the Nazi running crack ho) on her patio enjoying a glass (or 4) of wine. One of her friends was with us and as we were chatting, the friend just happened to notice that a young woman was comfortable enough with her body that she was undressing with the blinds open. Yep, that would be MY comfortable young woman. 16 had decided to get changed with the lights on, blinds open for God and Lisa and all mankind to see. I've since nailed her blinds shut.

2. Sundowning. Otherwise know at Casa Snarkfest as 'beating my head against the wall over and over ad nauseam. Every night it's the same thing:
            9:00 give me your phone.
            9:30 finish the homework, you need to go to bed. No, you can't have your phone back to do your  homework. You can't find the answers to your homework on TwitStagramChatBook.
            10:00 come on, lights out.
            10:15 get out of your sister's room
            10:30 NOW you have to brush your teeth?
            10:45 GET OUT OF YOUR SISTER'S ROOM
            11:00 SERIOUSLY???
Repeat nightly.

3. This is one of my favorites: "Instead of yelling "GET UP",  try speaking softly to rouse them from their deep slumber. Rub their back to make them feel loved, cared for and appreciated. Ignore their grumpiness and show them love."  WHAT???? Who are these people and where did they get kids who respond to THAT??? I want that!!! I've rubbed their little backs, I've cooed to them like a momma pigeon, soothingly trying to rouse them from their slumber. And here's a bit of advice on that. It. Doesn't. Work. In. My. House. This goes sort of hand in hand with the next one:

4. Tickle them awake. Who can resist waking up to laughter? I'll tell you who: MY KIDS. I've come close to broken ribs (mine) broken wrists (mine) and bruised thighs (mine) from the loving reaction I receive from my slumbering angels when I try to tickle them awake. "STOP!" they grunt as they kick out a leg into my thigh or swing an arm at my wrist. They flail, they swing (and connect!) and they are most definitely NOT waking up to laughter.

5. "Sing to them. Waking up to a song is an expression of pure joy." HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA yeah, not in my house. 13 sleeps with a radio on. I could turn the volume up to 11 and scream the lyrics to "Enter Sandman" and she would lay there like a corspe. Because apparently, Sandman gives her an extra dose of slumber sand each night. Bastard.

6. Play music. See #5.

7. "Cook cinnamon rolls or some other aromatic food for breakfast." Have you NOT been paying attention?? I cannot get these girls out of bed with enough time for them to come downstairs long enough to EAT breakfast. On the first day of school, the dogs had a delish breakfast of Dog Chow and scrambled eggs. The dogs get up early EVERY morning for me. The kids? Not so much. I could take a hotplate and make them cinnamon French toast IN THEIR BEDS and they still wouldn't get up. I could coat them in vanilla and brown sugar, and they'd roll over and snore louder.

8. "Leave them alone. Bed is sanctuary, no one likes to be ripped from one's sanctuary. Give them a few minutes to collect their thoughts." Yes, if I want them to go right back to sleep after I make them cinnamon shit, rub their backs, sing to them and tickle them, I'll give them a few minutes to collect their thoughts. And in 30 seconds, I'll hear snoring again. "I'm not sleeping, I'm collecting my thoughts!" GET OUT OF BED NOW!!!!

9. Get treatment for hypersomnia. Whatever. They are teenagers, they aren't depressed, they aren't anxious. They just can't get their asses in bed at a decent time so that they could get their asses BACK out of bed at a decent time.

10. Set a plan for them to take responsibility and get themselves up. UGH. Whatever.

Look, I love my girls and I'm trying to raise them to be responsible, non-sociopathic, non-homicidal-maniac adults. There is very little drama in our lives. There are very few conflicts that we deal with on a day to day basis. I do consider myself tremendously lucky that I've got happy, healthy, well-adjusted daughters. In the great big scheme of things, the morning trials and tribulations at Casa Snarkfest will be a laughable memory in years to come. But for now, it's driving me to drink.

Sad state of affairs, the future is bleak

UPDATE TO THIS STORY!
Brian Holloway is now pressing charges. I have NO sympathy for the children who did this, and I applaud him for the effort he made in trying to HELP them.  But apparently those kids don't NEED his help, so he is WELL within his rights to press charges.

__________________________________________________________________________
Just when I think I can't get any more discouraged about the generation being raised today, something comes along to lower my expectations even more. It makes me wonder what kind of job I'm doing as a parent. I'm so disgusted right now after reading Facebook, I can't even put my thoughts together. This post may not be the high quality Pulitzer-prize-winning blog post you've come to expect from me, but that's because I'm writing it between dry heaves in the damn bathroom. Let me 'splain.

My friend Marguerite just posted a link to a story that I hadn't heard before. Now that I've read it, I want to vomit. An ex-NFL player, Brian Holloway owns a house in Stephentown, NY and another, which is his primary residence, in Florida. Over Labor Day weekend, when Holloway was at his home in Florida, his son contacted him to let him know that he had seen some disturbing activity on Twitter, apparently there was a break-in at Holloway's Stephentown home, and kids were tweeting that there was a huge party there. 300 kids showed up. 300 kids did over $20,000 worth of damage to this man's home. 

Take that in for a moment: 300 kids broke into this man's home and did $20,000 in damage. Piss on carpets, broken windows, garbage strewn all over, spray paint all over the walls, a statue was stolen, but eventually returned (thank God SOMEONE had a conscience). Some of the tweets about this party were sickening. How about this one: "So glad my parents don't give a fuck what I do" or maybe this one: "yeah mom, I went to a party and got drunk but hey at least I'm not a meth addict".

Seriously? Do you think your mom is happy about that? What kind of children are these parents raising?? Oh my God I'm just speechless. But wait, there's more. Sit down, this is going to come as a bit of a shock:

Brian Holloway may actually be getting sued by the parents of the 300 kids who trashed his house. SUED. Why? Because he had the audacity to try to HELP these kids. How dare he?? Rather than to go straight to the police and seek to press charges, he did something amazing. He created a website, and tried to reach out to these kids to try to HELP them before they do something tragic. He's buried several friends who passed away too soon from drugs and alcohol, so he set up a website, attempting to identify the 300 kids, and invited them to come to his property for a picnic he planned to host for veterans, asking them to help clean up and try to make some amends.  He's identified at least 100 of the 300 kids, and on his website, HelpMeSave300, has pictures and tweets that were posted on Twitter by these kids. Read that again. These kids posted their pictures and tweeted about the party on Twitter for the whole world to see. Yet, these parents are looking to sue him for posting these pictures and names on his website. How utterly disgusting is that? Is it me? Am I out of line here?  And do you know how many of these kids and their parents showed up to the picnic? 4. FOUR. 4 of the 300 students came to his house and helped. MIND = BLOWN.

What does this say about the PARENTS?? That these parents would rather SUE this man, who is the VICTIM here, for putting their kids on his website, than to have their children step up and take responsibility for their actions. I'm utterly aghast and I don't think I've ever actually been aghast before. And let me tell you, it's not a good feeling.

Look, if it was my kid who was involved, I'd want to know about it. If it was my kid who was stupid enough to tweet about it and post pictures of themselves trashing a stranger's house, I'd damn sure want to know about it, and I'd DAMN sure hold my child accountable for her actions. My child may be too old for me to beat her ass, but don't think I wouldn't try if she did something as incredibly horrific and stupid as this.

Accountability. Responsibility. Conscience. What the hell happened to those three things?

I applaud Brian Holloway, he's a better person than I will ever hope to be. I'd be looking for restitution and justice. He's just looking to help these kids turn around and be productive. That is something that their PARENTS should be doing, but apparently, that's just not the case.

Things I will never understand, part 46

Ya know, just when you THINK you've heard it all, a man goes and cuts off his testicles with scissors on his wedding day. Seriously. There are some things you just CAN NOT make up. This is one of those things. This is something that should be reported on Dumbass News. Because clearly, this guy is a dumbass. And it made news. Read about it here, then explain somethings to me. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Twigs and berries courtesy of monkeemama.com

Now that you've read it, WHAT IN THE WORLD WAS HE THINKING????  Here's a brief synopsis for those of you who didn't take the time to read it (lazy butts).

A. An hour before he is scheduled to say 'I do' to his lovely fiance, he whacks off is own nuts
2. Early wedding-goers had the pleasure of seeing said bloody nuts on the floor of the church
B. The eunich was sent for a psychiatric eval (ya think??) after a trip to the ER
Lastly, NOBODY TOLD THE BRIDE UNTIL AFTER THE WEDDING (which DID actually take place that day!)

Holy flipping cheeseburgers, Batman, can you imagine the surprise this bride got at that wedding and then later on her wedding night????  I'm picturing that it went something like this:

Bride: Honey, come out and dance with me, it's our wedding song.
No Nuts: Nah love, gonna sit this one out. Little chaffed. Got the chub rub.
Bride: ??

Skip to the wedding night in the bridal suite:

Bride: Um, dude, what the hell happened? Where are your balls? Where the hell are your balls??? You had balls yesterday, hell you've had balls for as long as I've known you, and now? NO balls! What's up with that?
Nutless Wonder: Oh, yeah, hey, funny story............

How do you explain to your new wife that you CUT OFF YOUR OWN SAC??? Correct me if I'm wrong, and maybe it's just me, but if my soon-to-be-hubby was fruit-loopy enough to take a pair of scissors and cut off his own stones, I do think I'd want to know about it BEFORE I MARRIED HIM!!! But no, no one told her. According to the article, the bride WASN'T informed about why the wedding was delayed until AFTER the nuptuals took place. For real?? What the hell?? Didn't anyone stop for a minute and think: "Gee, I wonder if she plans on having some sex on her wedding night? Cuz sex with a man who just gashed his gonads might be a little tricky." I can't even imagine how furious I would be if this had happened to me. Seriously, girlfriend deserves to know she's marrying a total nutjob (sorry for the pun).

Maybe the groom was afraid that if he kept his junk, he'd end up like this guy, who, for all intents and purposes, raped a Land Rover. I wish I could make this stuff up.

***UPDATED FOR CLARIFICATION: Ok, my bad, sorry. It wasn't the actual GROOM who did the cutting off of the stuff. It was an unnamed man. Still doesn't change the fact that some whackjob cut off his own jewels, just that he delayed some poor couple's wedding while they cleaned his junk off the floor. My apologies to the groom. I'm sure he and Mrs. Groom had a lovely wedding and a lovely wedding night. With sex.

Fear, served with a side of guilt

When the phone rang yesterday morning at 8:53 and my husband was on the other end telling me "I just want you to know that I'm okay" I'll admit, I had no idea what he was talking about. I was in the process of getting ready for work, I had no TV, no radio, no social media going on. Just me and my hair dryer. I was like...."okayyyyyy, why?" He told me there had been a shooting on the base. The base where he works in DC. At that moment, 10,000 thoughts went flying through my head. None of them made any sense, other than he was okay. He was safe. And that's what I held onto.

The shooting occurred in a different building across the base from where he works. There was one shooter. No, there were three. There were 4 people dead. There was a guy lying on the ground in front of CVS who had been shot. There were 2 gunmen. There were 6 people dead. The gunman was dead. There were 2 other gunmen on the loose. No, the guy in the picture by CVS had a heart attack. I heard more inaccuracies, more misinformation. The only thing I held onto was that my husband was continually in contact with me. I sat at my desk at work with an uneasy knot in my stomach. I knew he was safe, he reassured me throughout the day that he was in a brick building, away from windows, completely safe. But the media was just running rampant with crazy stories that they HAD to put out before anything was verified, which in turn, scares the hell out of the public, who rely on them for facts. Sadly, facts don't matter, getting the story out before anyone else matters, regardless of how inaccurate the story turns out to be.

He was finally cleared to leave his building at 7:15 last night, long after the last train for home had gone. So he took the Metro and I drove to pick him up. The relief I felt when I saw him was unmatched by any relief I've ever felt. It was only then that I allowed myself to think about all those folks whose loved ones weren't going to come home. I thought about those family members who were not in touch with their loved ones all day. How frightening must that have been for them? The whole not knowing what's going on scares the daylights out of me. I was lucky. But others were not. I felt guilty for not thinking about others all day. Real guilt, because my husband was with me, and others were without their spouses, their sons or daughters, their grandfathers or grandmothers. Their neighbors. Their friends. I felt terrible for those who lost loved ones, but I was thankful that I was not one of them.

Guilt is a strong emotion. So is fear, and I tried to imagine the fear of the unknown. And it made me sick. My mind wandered, during my drive home with my husband safely in my car. It wandered back to that Tuesday 13 years ago. That beautiful September day when we were attacked by terrorists. The fear that family members must've felt not knowing if their loved ones were alive or dead. Phone reception in NYC was spotty at best that day. My husband was able to get through to his sister who worked several blocks from the World Trade Center. Others weren't as lucky. And so they waited and wondered what had become of their loved ones. As I drove home last night I could not even wrap my brain around the fear of NOT knowing that my loved one was safe. It was just something I cannot imagine going through.

My heart goes out to all who lost a loved one yesterday and to those who face an uphill battle in their recovery from gunshots. And an unbelievable amount of gratitude goes out to all of my friends and family who called, texted, Facebook'ed, or emailed to check in on us, to make sure we were okay, to see if I needed help with anything. I'm lucky to have an amazing connection to everyone who helped make yesterday a little easier to bear. And I'm lucky that I had my husband home with me last night.

Who wants a night out with the girls?

Who doesn't want a night out with the girls, right? I mean, we ALL need time away with our girlfriends, don't we? It's what keeps us sane. If we don't get a night out every so often, the terrorists win, right? So last year, the fabulous Jen of People I Want to Punch in the Throat organized a Ladies Night Out in her little town, and she was joined by a bunch of other moms who just wanted a night out. The evening was a success and a great time was had by all.

Well this year, after she masterminded the hilariously awesome book I Just Want to Pee Alone (in case you've lived under a rock, I co-authored that book with 36 other fantastically funny ladies) she has coordinated ANOTHER Moms Night Out, only this time, we're ALL joining in!

That's right, all across the U.S. on Wednesday, October 16 Moms EVERYWHERE are going out!  It's NATION WIDE!!  And it doesn't matter if you're Mom to kids, dogs, ferrets, or dust bunnies, YOU'RE INVITED!!  Since we are scattered all over the United States, there is a place for (almost) everyone to go out and enjoy National Night Out, a night of eating, drinking and peeing alone, with other Moms who all just want to pee alone. My night out will be held at Domestic located at 117 E. German St in Shepherdstown, WV on Wednesday night, October 16 from 7-10 p.m. When you walk in, just tell them you came to Pee Alone and they'll send you to the side room where we will be frolicking together and enjoying our freedom (if only for a few hours).

If you live near me in Shepherdstown, WV, I would absolutely LOVE for you to join me at Domestic for this National Night Out of fun and laughter. But if you don't live near me, don't fret, we're hosting this event all over the country!! Check out the I Just Want to Pee Alone Facebook Events page for a location near you! There are going to be Moms going out to eat, drink and pee alone in places like Minneapolis, Chicago, Morristown NJ, Houston, Lancaster PA, Boston, Indiana, Colorado, Kansas and MORE!! Check out the events page to see where YOU can join in the fun.

If you aren't close to any of the ladies hosting, don't be sad, because YOU can host your OWN National Night out! Just pick a location on October 16th, tell them you want to host a Moms Night Out and send out invites to your friends! Then send your details (location, time, address, etc) to Jen at "sweetsadiecreations @ gmail dot com" (but, you know, the real way, with all that stuff strung together) and she'll add your event to the Events page so that MORE people will find out and show up! How cool is that?

So save the date! Wednesday, October 16 7-10 p.m. Go out and have fun!!!

Wild and Wonderful Wednesday

I'm sorry I've been neglecting you all, my lovely Snarklings. Remember when I told you about Mom's COPD kicking her butt? Well it hit the fan Friday afternoon when she had to be taken to the hospital with chest pains. Turns out the heart doesn't like it when it's not getting enough oxygen, and it rebels. Luckily it was just a scare and she was released on Sunday, but I took 16 & 13 up for a visit to spend time with her and make sure she was okay.

Got home Monday morning well after 1:00 a.m. Sleepy Snarky! Can I just tell you that I got home from work at 5:20 yesterday afternoon and went almost immediately to sleep? Well, too late, I just told you. I slept from about 6:00 p.m. til about 11:00 last night. I got up long enough to scarf down a bowl of cereal, went back to bed at midnight and slept until 6:30 this morning. I feel a bajillion percent better today. Sleep is such a good thing.

Know what else is a good thing? A FREE TARGET GIFT CARD! That's right! I've had 2 people enter my little Songs for the Schoolbus contest on the old Book of Face Page. The race is tight, so see if you can find more of my Songs for the Schoolbus on my Facebook page than anyone else and you'll have yourself a $25 Target Gift Card! Exciting, right?

I was too tired to do a Tuesday Tirade yesterday and I'm in a much better mood so I'm not going to do a Wednesday Whine, but I would be remiss if I didn't at least mention in passing that it's 9/11, the 12th anniversary of the attacks on the US. I don't ever discuss politics, you guys know that. But I will mention the sadness I feel when I remember that day. I went to high school with one of the victims who perished in the World Trade Center, and worked with the mother of one of the pilots who was a Captain of one of the planes. My heart goes out to their families and the families of all those who died that day. And to the survivors who live on. Tonight I will probably break out the VHS tape I have of the documentary 9/11 with Robert DeNiro, and my family and I will remember, we'll cry and we'll pray. We may even have ice cream. Because if we can't have ice cream, then the terrorists win!

The girls are back to their old tricks (staying up too late, missing the bus in the morning). I've been chastised by 13 because it's embarrassing when friends come up and say "I read your mom's song this morning, you missed the bus again, huh?" Hmmm, here's a thought: MAKE THE BUS and I won't embarrass you anymore. It's not rocket science. The bus comes at 7:16. Be on it. On the plus side, I DID make $10 this morning driving them both to school.

Here's one more piece of business, lest you forget. See that little Amazon box over there on the right? Yeah, anytime you wanna make an Amazon purchase, if you could use that link instead of going right to Amazon's site, it'll make me a few cents. Now a few cents doesn't mean much but if all 6 of you who actually read my stuff would use that link to make your purchases on Amazon.com, I would maybe have enough to buy a Blizzard from Dairy Queen. Because if I can't buy a Blizzard, the terrorist win!

So thanks for reading today and I hope you all take a moment to remember this day and hug your family a little tighter and thank God we are a free country. Go on, hug your family, don't let the terrorists win.

Where've you been, Snarky??

Hey Snarklings! Miss me? I've missed you guys. School's back in session, Holiday weekend just passed us and this is the first chance I've had to actually sit down and write! Silly life getting in the way. Anywhooo, how've ya been? What's new in your world? We've recovered from the 1D movie, got new phones over the weekend because on Sunday it was 15's birthday!

Happy Birthday to my gorgeous 16!! Gotta remember to go change the info on my pages here to reflect her getting older.

My mom's been having trouble lately. Her emphysema has been kicking her ass lately, so that's had us troubled with all the humidity she's been laboring through. Keep her in your thoughts, will ya?

Phillies are struggling through the end of a losing season. I don't want to talk about that anymore.

And guess who has a chance to win a $25 Target gift card!!! YOU!! That's right, I'm currently running a contest on my Snarkfest Facebook page, so go check it out. Because I suck at keeping track of stuff, I have NO idea how many songs I've written for the school bus (if you missed todays, here it is:)

Maybe she took a shower
Maybe she took too long
Maybe she's out of her miiiiiiiind
Ok now here we go
Try to just wake her ass up
But she's an animal
It seems she's hibernatin'
And that's why 'Manda missed the school bus
I know she missed it
You know she missed it
I had to drive her
Missed the school bus
She let it get past her
I'm flabberghasted
Talk about spend gas cash
She missed the school bus

Blurred Lines - Robin Thicke

Here is what I'm asking you to do in order to win the Target gift card. Go to my Snarkfest Facebook page and search back, back way back. As far as you can possibly search, and find as many songs for the school bus as you can. I know there have to be at least 100 between songs that display them missing the bus as well as making the bus. Find songs, copy and paste them to a Word document. When you have as many as you can find, message me on FB and I'll get the document from you. The contest will end on September 30 and whoever finds the most number of songs and pastes them into the document will win a $25 Target gift card! In the even that there is a tie, I will award 2 $15 Target gift cards. A 3-way tie, and I will award 3 $10 Target gift cards. So get moving! Go back on my FB page as far as you can and find as many songs for the bus that you can (so I don't have to, I'm lazy like that).

A Mom's Review of the One Direction Movie

Before I talk about the review, I want to say that one of the biggest reasons I decided to do this midnight premiere thing is because I know EXACTLY how excited my girls are over this band. I was the EXACT same way when I was 15 and Duran Duran was THE BIG THING. Every generation of young girls should have their BIG THING and, IN MY OPINION, sometimes it's good to give in to your kids' wishes when you know how big an impact it will make on them, both now and in later years. They worked hard to complete the tasks they said they'd complete. They kept their end of the deal. Thinking back on my own teen years, fan-girling over my favorite band, Duran Duran, I had the opportunity to see them twice in concert and know what an amazing experience it is for a teenage girl, so I really wanted to do this for my girls, because they're like me. I knew they'd love it. And I'd rather be remembered by my girls as the mom who did special things for them instead of the mean mom who said NO all the time. (mind you, I do say NO quite a bit, but in this case, I knew how much it meant to them).When we were sitting in traffic before the Hershey Park 1D concert, I had the windows down and we were blaring the CD and Amanda told me I was 'the coolest mom ever.' Sometimes a mom needs to hear that. It's validation.

So here it is, a bright and sunny early (and I do mean freaking early) Friday morning after a late night last night. My girls and I made a deal: if they made the bus every day from the beginning of the school year, clean out (vacuumed, dusted, etc) the guest room and got both their rooms spotless, I'd take them to the midnight premiere of the One Direction: This Is Us movie. Shockingly enough, they held up their end of the bargain. Who knew?

Last night after dinner, I went upstairs (while they were still cleaning/studying/fan-girling) and took a nap in preparation for the late night I knew I'd have. I woke up at around 8:20 and just for shits and giggles, logged on to the Regal Cinema site to see what the deal was for the movie. How pleasantly surprised I was to see that the midnight premiere was NOT, in fact, at midnight, but it was at 10:00! MUCH better. I let the girls know that they had exactly ONE HOUR to finish, then we'd leave.

I had planned to bring my earplugs, fully expecting a cacophony of screaming teens, much like I experienced at the One Direction concert back in July. However, when we arrived at the theater at 9:40, the parking lot was nearly empty and the theater was dark and all I could think of was "CRAP!! What the hell???" When we walked in and presented our tickets they told us the theater was to the left. We got our popcorn and headed over the theater 2 and sat with the 9 other girls that were there to see the movie. No lie. 9 other people plus us. BONUS! No ear plugs needed. After what seemed like an endless showing of movie previews, the movie started.

It. Was. Great. It was an honest look at the onstage and behind the scenes lives that these boys live. It wasn't just a concert movie like I was expecting. The filmmaker, Morgan Spurlock, filmed the boys' lives on tour. The good and the bad. Parents sad and missing their sons. Louis paying a visit to his Nan, Harry visiting the bakery where he worked before auditioning for the X-Factor. We saw the madness of screaming fans and the truth that the boys felt about it. The insanity of being pulled at (Liam nearly lost an ear!), fawned over, screamed at and how lonely that really can be. They sit around a campfire wondering what their lives will end up like, will they do this forever? Will they settle down and get married and have a family? Will a girl want to be with them because of the person they are on the inside and not because of WHO they are on the outside.

The movie is an honest look at what it's like for them to be away from their families for extended periods of time. Zayn bought a house, his mother and sisters got the keys and moved in and called him. Mom cried about how proud of him she was, how much it meant to her that he did this for them and he was visibly moved, glad that he was able to do this for her but saddened that he wasn't there to enjoy the new place with them. It really was an intimate look at their insights, their relationship with their families and with one another.

I enjoyed the film, and I'm so glad that my girls enjoyed it as well. It was worth going to such a late movie on a school night. I'd take them again in a heartbeat because it was a great bonding experience for the 3 of us. AND their rooms are clean, which is a bonus.

Oh and 15's calling me a closet 'Directioner' because I said I liked the movie. So I told her she's a closet 'Duranie' because she liked the Duran Duran concert we attended together. Ah the joys of motherhood.