Quiet Time

     I'm craving some serious quiet time right now. However, as soon as I sat down at the computer my two year old granddaughter says "Nigh Night!!  Go nigh night!  happy bday??"  She is now singing "happy 'buth' kunkine away abcdfgee."    There is NO quiet moment with her.  None.  Zippo.  I know she can read, she's just being belligerent!

I've been perusing other blogs to get ideas for Christmas crafts and decor.  It sucks.  Seriously.  All of the places I click on CLAIM to have small children.  And yet the pictures they post make me believe that these people have never had a child step foot in their homes.  Where is the clutter?  The clothes on the floor?  The empty sippy cups???  The food spread around?

Just once I'd like to see an honest photo of a normal family.  Maybe I should head over to Awkward Family Photos.  Or maybe not -   Awkward!!!!

                                                                                           Mrs. Snarky

Pointless

   
I'm apparently too tired and crabby from my recent doctor experiences to be very funny tonight. I've had an ultrasound, (no I'm not a hermaphrodite as my lovely co-worker suggested) an MRI, (I do have a brain, which I was glad to hear) an aspiration, (which is actually just a nice way of saying I'm going to stick a needle in your throat for around an hour) and acupuncture (a not so nice way of saying I'm going to stick needles all over your body and leave them in for around an hour). I've tried and tried again but instead of funny Mr. Snarky, the writing comes across as bitchy unfunny Snarky. Sorry. I have a right to be bitchy. Oh, and the Packers kicked holy hell out of my Vikings tonight. Just kick a dog when he's down okay?

Anyway, Mr. Snarky's health has been an issue lately, but don't worry. He'll be fine. You know he's feeling a little bit better when he starts writing about himself in 3rd person. So I got that going for me, which is nice. I am feeling a bit down though. Anyone have any Prozac? Maybe Jemaine can cheer me up instead.

Time to go to my happy place

Ahh screw it. Nothing helps. Time to pop a Xanax and go to bed.

Goodnight. I kinda like you guys.

Mr. Snarky

I love my job... sometimes

I am writing this post as a public service to cashiers everywhere. I am not a cashier, but it is a fairly large part of my job. Glamorous I know. Cashiers have always held a special place in my heart. They work hard, stand on their feet all day, make crappy money, work crappy hours, and worst of all, they have to deal with the public constantly while trying to keep a smile on their face. Don't get me wrong; for the most part, I enjoy dealing with the public. There are just certain things about it that make me crazy.

DO NOT TALK ON YOUR CELLPHONE WHILE IN LINE... EVER!!! I mean it! Yesterday, a woman in line at the register was talking to her friend. She was at the front of the line and we couldn't help her without talking to her first. Her conversation, two decibels higher than a normal speaking voice, went something like this: "Yeah, I'm at the pharmacy right now. Uh huh. Well, I'm picking something up. No, at the drugstore. Yeah. I probably should go because I'm at the drugstore getting something for Charlie. Uh huh. Yeah." It went on like that for 2 or 3 minutes. Incredibly engaging conversation that couldn't possibly wait until AFTER picking up Charlie's meds, right? Hang up the damned phone lady! Even if you're just picking up a bottled water or something, talking on the phone says to the clerk that they mean absolutely nothing to you. Please, please don't do it.

Do not lick your finger when you are taking out your money or checkbook or debit card. This is especially true when you are at the pharmacy picking up antibiotics. It may sound silly, but people do it all the time... especially people over 50. I often want to stick out my hand and ask them if they'd like to spit on it, because in effect, that is what they've done. Instead, I grab the hand sanitizer, set it on the counter, and douse my hand right in front of them before taking the money to see if they get the hint. From what I can tell, none of them ever have.

If you want to make conversation, great. Just remember that this cashier has heard many of the same lines over and over and over all day every day. I'm not being clear here, so let me give you some examples. Yes, those of us who have to make you sign in the box know that it looks nothing like your signature. We don't give a rip. If an item you are trying to purchase has no price sticker or won't scan, IT ISN'T FREE! The teller at your bank who laughs when you stick her up by pretending your finger is a gun... thinks you are an idiot. And when she asks you how you want your 200 dollars, cash is NOT the answer she's looking for. The guy at the gas station knows that gas prices are really high. It's not his fault. When I worked at a different drug store that had a preferred customer card, the cashiers were required to tell them how much they saved by using the card. Me, "You saved 93 cents with your card." Them, "93 cents is 93 cents, hahaha" Me, "Really? I thought it was 92 cents. But actually, in 1953 dollars, 93 cents is 17 cents. And in Canada, 93 cents is more like 80 cents. But thanks for sharing." Okay, so I never said the last sentence. Instead I just tried not to make faces at them as they left. "Have a nice day!" Then under my breath, "MORON!"

Lastly, do not ever just throw your wadded up money on the counter. I can't speak for every cashier, but when I tell you the total and you flop money out there like that, it brings to mind just one word. Asshole!

Remember that cashiers, while not having the most exciting job in the world, are people. They HATE when you treat them like dirt or like they are invisible. When you have to wait in line, it's usually not their fault. They don't like it either. They've been standing there all day; you've only had to stand there for 5 minutes. They have a list of things they are supposed to be getting done when it's not busy and the crowd you see in front of you in line means that they can't do it and the manager doesn't care whether it's too busy. He only sees that the list hasn't been completed. So remember, the guy who takes your money might just be going to school to try to improve himself; the girl who runs your debit card might be a single mommy just trying to survive. Give 'em a break, would you? I'd appreciate it.

Hope this didn't make you mad because... I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!

But if it did make you mad.... PFFFFFFFTTTT! Mr. Snarky

Superheroes... almost

   
My favorite 3 year old boy LOVES superheroes. He has DVDs, puzzles, outfits, coloring books and action figures. He has introduced me to several superheroes and villains that I had no idea existed. This led me to a thought; if there are that many superheroes, surely there were some who were "left on the drawing board"  After a little research, I discovered these never before released Superheroes who never made it.

The Mosquito, AKA Buzz Miller: When Buzz discovered the ability to turn into a mosquito, he was determined to help New York City police in solving crimes. Unfortunately, two days later, while making a deposit at his credit union, armed robbers arrived. Never having had the time to determine what good could come of his power, he decided to give it a shot anyway. He transformed, bit the first robber he could find, and was promptly slapped, ending his career before it had a chance. Rest In Peace Buzz.

Mr Toilet, AKA Louis Commode: Loo, as he is known by his friends, is a mild mannered janitor working for a defense contractor. When he has his sights set on an evildoer, he goes into a stall, and quickly transforms himself into Mr. Toilet. When the unsuspecting bad guy sits down, Mr. Toilet swallows him whole. His sometime assistant, Dr. Ex-lax, occasionally helps him on a really hard case.

Sgt. Racker: Racker is a retired Marine drill Sargent. He has no super power. If someone is doing something wrong, he kicks them right in the nuts. That's all.

Skunkman, AKA Mal Oder: Mal works as a file clerk for a Washington lobbyist. He seeks out government corruption and when he finds it, he sprays it down, leaving the offender with a foul smell that can only be removed with a bath in tomato juice.

The Human Tornado, AKA Billy Ray Gibson: Billy Ray is the maintenance man at a trailer park in Mississippi. After a nasty incident involving a stolen 6 pack of Old Milwaukee, the residents of the park learned to NEVER EVER piss Billy Ray off again.

Papa Razzi: Papa lives in LA. The biggest crime he has foiled was at a convenience store. He took so many pictures of the perpetrator, the man was blinded and unable to drive the getaway car and the authorities arrived in time to confiscate the stolen red bulls and beef jerky.

Soup or Man, AKA Pierre Bouilliabaisse: He tried fighting crime, but it didn't work out very well. Peter's super power was, unfortunately, the ability to turn himself into a bowl of soup. The criminals either laughed at him, or took a few bites. His biggest success came when his arch nemesis, Jimmy the Jaywalker took a big bite and forgot to blow on the spoon, severely burning his lips.

Rain Man, AKA Chief Winnebago: The chief is the greatest rain dancer the world has ever seen. When crimes are in progress, he does his dance and the evil doers are quickly soaked to the bone. However, he has not yet learned to control the more powerful lightning and his arch rivals know this, always remembering to bring towels and a change of clothes to the crime scenes.

                                          Hope you all have a great week. Love, Mr Snarky

Things Mr. Snarky is thankful for

        A relative of ours posted a request on her blog asking people to name some things they are thankful for. I think she might get more than she bargained for from Mr. Snarky. So anyway, in no particular order (other than the first one being number one which you will definitely understand in a moment) here they come.

1. I am not dead. I like this a whole lot. I prefer me in my state of not-deadness, which is very much different than undead. I wouldn't like that at all I don't think, unless I got to star in a movie about it with Simon Pegg. That might be cool. If you're reading this, I'm pretty sure you like the fact that I'm not dead as well, but who can be certain about these things.

The Rest

I'm very thankful that I'm not talking to that one guy who never stops talking. You know the one. You think he's done and you try to walk away but he keeps following you and never stops talking even when you say something really obnoxious and he still doesn't pick up on it because that guy never listens anyway... all he ever thinks about is himself and you can try to change the subject and he just keeps going on and on and on. Yeah. That guy. Or the guy who smells bad.

I'm thankful for blog posts asking me what I'm thankful for.  Really. It made me write this. Otherwise I would probably be sleeping right now and who needs that. Maybe I would be sitting here playing plants vs zombies or some other time waster until I got tired.

I am so thankful that I've never fallen on a beer bottle when I was naked. That's all I have to say about that.

I'm thankful that I'm me and not you. No one else gets to be me and that's good. Because I'm better than you. At something anyway. Not sure what. Maybe I'll figure it out when I grow up. (I'm in my 40's)

I'm thankful that I'm not that guy who smells bad.

And beer. I like beer.

I'm thankful that not every song on the radio is by Katie Perry. Cuz that would suck.

I'm thankful for Mrs. Snarky. She laughs at all my attempts at humour; even the ones that aren't funny.

I'm thankful for the British spellings of the words "Humour and Colour" (okay, if she laughs at that, I'll know she's faking cuz it's just not funny)

I'm thankful that the Yankees did not win the World Series this year. They just do that FAR too often.

And finally, I'm thankful for a good book and a warm fire on a cold night; the love of a family member; my good friends; having food to eat and a place to sleep; a good conversation over a cup of coffee; the feeling of a job well done when you've helped someone overcome a problem in their life that they've been working at for years and had no success... or some other crap like that. Oh hell... let's be real. Post-Its... yeah! I'm WAY thankful for Post-Its.

I am also thankful for YOU, dear reader.  With Love, Mister Snarky

Stupid people are just... well... stupid.

  

How many times can a person apologize for doing the same thing over again before it becomes apparent that they aren't really sorry and they just don't give a damn? This morning, I called the dentist's office for Mrs. Snarky and the receptionist there, who has known us for three or four years now, mispronounced my name. Again. Now, as you may have gathered, our last name isn't really Snarky... but it's not all that hard to pronounce. 5 letters. That's it. And it rhymes with every other English word that is spelled with the same last 4 letters. There aren't all that many words you can rhyme it with, but they are out there. WTF is soo damn hard about changing 1 letter? It's always pissed me off since back in the day when you would get calls from salesmen at dinnertime on the house phone and had to answer because caller ID hadn't been invented yet. Those guys ALWAYS screwed it up too. This is worse. I have corrected this person at least 15 times. Yet every time I talk to her, she screws it up again... and apologizes again. It tells me that either: 1. She really doesn't give a damn about me and whether or not I come to that dentist or, 2. she is as dumb as a box of rocks. The Mrs. and I LOVE our dentist. She is a sweet woman who always comes across as being genuinely concerned about you and your family, and she makes every effort to ensure that you are as comfortable as possible as she rips your mouth to shreds. Oh... she also pronounces your fucking name properly.

I felt like making the receptionist repeat my name correctly over and over again this morning. Thought that maybe if I yelled something like "MY NAME IS SNARKY, NOT SNARE KEY!" 7 or 8 times, the next time she called, the idiot would remember how to say it. She'd definitely remember ME. But I didn't. I saved my snarkiness for later, bitching about her in my mind while I was in the shower. I'm thinking of not paying the bill. When she calls me to ask for payment, I'll tell her that if she can pronounce my name right the first time, I will send the check right then and there. If not, call again next week and give it another shot. Dumbass!

But not you guys. You're great. No really, you are.    

                                          Mr. Snarky

I Have a Vagina, How 'Bout You?

        A week or so ago I ended up breaking in to song.  This is not an unusual thing for me to do.  In fact, I really enjoy belting out a tune Opera style.   "I have a vagina, how 'bout you??"  Yep, thems the words.  Catchy isn't it.  It's great fun to sing with others as well.  Especially my three year old grandson. That boy is one of the funniest kids on the planet I tell you!  He knows he doesn't have a vagina, but he doesn't pass up a catchy tune, no matter WHAT the words are.  Obviously.

I was sitting in the kitchen with my sister tonight when said three year old started singing the winsome words in the living room.  "We all have vaginas, how 'bout you?" Well, there were 4 adults nearby and we all started cracking up.  Then, we sang along.   And yes, we all have vaginas, how 'bout you???

Our almost 2 year old granddaughter joined in the musical by singing "Nigh Night fagina."  She can't say V's.  Probably a good thing for now.

Mrs. Snarky