During a recent night out with the girls, I found myself listening to the strangest story in the history of the world.  Of course, I feel inclined to share the horror with you now.

A couple martinis into the night, Veronica* says, “Well, girls, I did it!”  (Oh, God… this could be anything.  *Braces herself.*)  “I told Harry* that if he wanted to do the thing he likes me to do, then he was going to have to shave!  I told him I was tired of getting poked in the eye!”  *Drinks spray in the air as we all choke on that last sip.*  Poked in the eye?  ROFL

Of course Harry couldn’t possibly imagine how he could do this himself, so she agreed to help.  Now you’re thinking, as I did, ok that’s kind of hot.  A little mutual shaving… bring it on.  Oh no, we assumed wrong… this was about as hot as surgery prep.  How can that be?  Well, I present you with Veronica & Harry’s Manscaping 101:

Step 1:  Have your man sit buck naked on your beige couch.  Forget about the skid marks you’ll live with for the rest of your life.
Step 2:  Turn on the Cubs game.  Yes, baseball.
Step 3:  Begin furiously trimming with a shaver and scissors.  Picture Edward Scissorhands trimming a bush into a deer shape.
Step 4:  Don’t want pubic hair all over your couch and carpet?  Hold a dish towel under the area as you work.
Step 5:  Sit back and envy your work.
Step 6:  Have your man get dressed and go to dinner at Chipotle.

I can’t get the scene out of my head… it keeps me up at night in terror.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sit on her couch again… or really touch anything in her apartment… knowing what went down.   *Shudders*

*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the oddballs.

A dark shadow has fallen upon the snarky kingdom.  I’m beyond depressed.  Is it the economy?  No.  Seasonal Affective Disorder?  I wish.  A plague of boils and locusts?  I could be so lucky.  What I have to share with you is much more apocalyptic than any of these.

MILLER HAS STOPPED PRODUCING ZIMA!   *Collapses*

OK… I know you’re thinking, “Wait… they were still making it?” And yes they were.  I haven’t had it in years, but it was always there on the beer shelf like an old favorite blanket.  It was comforting to know that my all time favorite beverage would always be there for me (even though it hasn’t been socially acceptable in a long time).  Sometimes I would stare at it longingly as I passed by… too embarrassed to buy it.  I was waiting for its comeback.

I have so many fond memories of Zima.  Road trips, nights out, nights in, smuggling 40 oz. Zima’s into the movies.  (ROFL… yes, they made 40’s.)  When it was new, everybody drank it… even boys!  It really was a great drink.., not as bitter and filling as beer… not as sweet and thick as other girly drinks.  “Zomething Different” the ads would affirm.  *Sigh*

This morning, an email was instantly circulated among my closest friends with the subject “OMG BAD NEWS”.  We will be buying every 6- pack of Zima we can get our hands on so that we can have a bon voyage party for Zima… to lay our dear friend to rest.  *Hears Taps playing in the background*

“OMG Snarky… you need to get a Facebook page.”  “Why?”  “So I can add you to my friends.”  “I’m your friend already.”  “Well we can post messages to each other and stuff.”  “Don’t you have my e-mail address and phone number… and you know… the joy of me in person?”  “Well… ummmm…”  “You want other people to be able to read the ridiculous things we say to each other?”  “It’s fun!”  “Yeah…”

I just don’t understand the Facebook (and Myspace) craze.  I had a Myspace page a couple years ago for a few months and HATED it.  It was work.  Sure it was fun to make it all cute and stuff… but the chore of clicking on everyone’s pages to send the REQUIRED appropriate allotment of messages to each friend?  Work.  “Happy Hump Day!”  Ugh.  “It’s Thirsty Thursday!”  Shoot me.  And it IS a requirement… people get pissy if you don’t “comment them back”.  It’s like high school all over again.  Whoever can collect the most friends and appear to be the most popular, wins.  No, thanks.

The other aspect of Facebook that really bothers me (and I realize this makes me a bit of a freak)… is the fact that people can search your name and find you!  Yikes!  I don’t want my students or their parents or my colleagues to track me down and see stupid posts from my friends… or drunken pictures of me sticking my tongue out, making the “shocker” hand gesture.  (Wow… that was quite a night btw!)  No, thanks.

I also don’t want weirdos from my past (that I have successfully brushed off) to find me again.  I’ve got my close circle of friends… we’re tight like spandex.  I’ve got my outer circle of friends… we can go months without seeing each other, but it never feels that way when we get together.  I’ve been pretty good about trimming the fringe… those people whom I really don’t care for… and our conversations always consist of small talk and “catching up”.  I don’t feel the need to keep in touch with them.  I know it’s odd, but that’s how I am.  Facebook brings the fringe back.  No, thanks.

So, please pardon my hermitic (yes, that’s a word) behavior… and quit trying to drag me into virtual high school.

I feel absolutely awful!  My last frog died today.  After wishing her demise yesterday, I feel REALLY guilty now.

I love animals… I have more compassion for them than I do for people many times.  I feel very cold-hearted for being happy to see these pets go.  In my defense, I even get upset when a harmless pixel animal gets killed in WoW… I have actually uttered the phrase, “Oh no, I killed a frog!”  Oh, the irony!

I’m sure there’s some sort of karmic retribution waiting for me, as a result of my evil thoughts…

Tomorrow is the dreaded family birthday party for a one-year-old child… except it’s not even my family.  My friend always has these huge family parties for her kids… and then she invites her 5 single girlfriends, too.  No other friends… just us.  Talk about awkward!  The only good part is that I didn’t hear about it until yesterday… so I’ve only had a day and a half to dread it.  A friend of mine said, “Prepare for the huge party sub.”  Another responded, “A big sandwich, kool-aid, and a moon jumper… oh my!”  I really lead a glamorous life.  *winks*

I took a nature walk with my students yesterday to collect leaves and seeds for science.  We did all kinds of sorting and investigating with our finds.  During recess today some students were looking at our leaves and stuff again.  I overheard one student say (in reference to some berries), “Don’t touch those!  They poison!”  Another student responded (in a very “duh, you’re an idiot” tone), “Ms. Kitten wouldn’t pick them if they poison!”  I had to laugh… it was too cute!

It was also an interesting situation, though.  One student was so rooted in common sense and the other relied completely on trust.  Which one would win out?  Well, the kids all looked at each other… shrugged… and touched the berries.  LOL

Trust is everything… any relationship without it is poison.

So I did it!  What’s this momentous occasion you wonder?  I finally went grocery shopping for the first time in September!  The first couple of weeks weren’t bad at all… I still had leftovers from the parents’ visit and lots of odds and ends in the freezer.  Then I really had to get creative.  By last week, I was pretty desperate.  I had eaten way too much take-out and a few too many dinners consisting entirely of pretzels and diet coke.  But yesterday I hit rock bottom…

I stopped at the drugstore on the way to work to grab something to take for lunch.  I spied something that looked edible on the bottom shelf of the fridge case.  I squatted down to check it out… but I suddenly found myself eye-to-eye with a big, nasty dill pickle.  This thing was practically yellow and swimming in a plastic pouch of rancid pickle essences and juices.  I gagged.  This isn’t something I’d ever want to be 6 inches away from… and especially not at 6:30 in the morning!  Mental note:  Must.  Buy.  Food.  Today.

That pickle scared me straight.  I will never be without food in the house again.  I plan on spending my whole life avoiding that pickle.  You know that thing will still be there when I die… mocking me from its juicy hyperbaric chamber.

I have these colleagues of all ages that get together once a month for dinner.  We have done this for years.  When the group first started, we all worked at the same school.  We’d get together and piss and moan about work… and leave feeling great after much laughter and wine.  Over the years, a few of the members have retired.  This has really put a damper on the fun.  These dinners have taught me a lot about retired people:

- 5:30 is considered a late dinner
- When you’re meeting at 5:30, you are really expected to be there at 5:15 or they will obsess over your whereabouts.  5:25 just won’t cut it.
- Appetizers?  Dessert?  Drinks?  What are those??  We have got to get out of here before dark!
- Topics of conversation are limited to diseases and surgeries, random people we run into at random places, and deaths.
- If the server screws anything up, they can’t get over it.  “I can’t believe he gave me your salad and you got mine!”  “He can’t even keep salads straight!”  An hour later… “Does this LOOK like thousand island?”
- Even if their plates consist of 3 peas and a slice of bread, they obsess over having wayyyyy too much food.
- They LOVE separate checks (and servers just LOVE us as a result).
- They give the EXACT amount down to the penny… heaven forbid we round up and give the server another 12 cents!

I have a friend who is just as annoyed with their behavior (she’s the only other “young” one)… you can catch us making a lot of faces at each other throughout dinner.  You can’t help but laugh through the whole meal at this point.  I adore these ladies, but somebody shoot me when I start showing any of these characteristics!

Wheeeeeeeee!  My new couch is here!  Nevermind that the delivery guys came 2 hours early… and when they called to say they’d be here in 10 minutes, I was still in bed.  I’m too excited to care about letting strangers in my house in my pj’s!

I called my parents to share my joy.  Unfortunately, Mom wasn’t home, so I got to talk to Dad.  He isn’t exactly the epitome of excitement over anything.  I told him I got the couch and his response was, “You had to take a day off of work?”  LOL  I ignored it and continued babbling about how cute it is.  Then he said, “Am I going to be able to stretch out and take a nap on this thing?”  Always so practical…

I’ve inspected every inch of it again, just to be safe.  It’s still in perfect condition.  So now if any pee stains turn up, I’ll know they’re my own.