Quite Possibly, I Am the Best Wife Ever.

First of all, the day started with me trying to give two of the three cats in our household medication.

The third one is meds free. Probably not for long, though. That’s how we roll.

And, just bear with me, this does actually pertain to the wife thing.

Anyhow, one cat in the household (Steve) is a darling fluffy fat furball of deliciousness, and he just sits on me as I put the pill in his pink mouth. Like, he sits STILL, and then he just swallows it. And purrs. Because, did I mention, Steve is JUST THE MOST ADORABLE LUMP OF FURRY GOODNESS?

Seriously. He swallows the pill. No problems. We get in; we get out. Over and done in seconds. Then, he gets up and offers to help with the laundry. (Not really, but I know, I KNOW, if he had opposable thumbs, he would.)

Perhaps all this lead-up would give you a bit of foreshadowing for how the second cat deals with medication?

Second cat: Hi! I’m all furry and purring and rubbing up against you! Cuteness is here!

Me: It’s time for your pill, Second Cat.


Me: I’m ready for that. This time I have a towel.


Me: I think perhaps you are over-dramatizing the whole situation, Second Cat. You could, you know, just take the pill and we’d be over this in seconds. Like, oh I don’t know… your buddy-

Second Cat: Don’t do it.

Me: Like your buddy, STEVE? The preshus?

Steve: Dude. Every time you compare me to one of the other animals, or children, in this house, you break their spirit. You know I’ve set some impossible standards here.

Ok, I promise I’m going to get to the wife thing. The issue here is that I have now been treated poorly by a cat, and my feelings are hurt. THEN, when the husband came downstairs, this happened:

Husband: Hi honey! What’s with the bandaids?


It’s possible I too was over-dramatizing. Forty million tiny slices from a tiny ninja cat will do that to you.

A lot of times, when you are Mom-ming, you should be able to shake it off. Like, all of it. Shake off the furry disasters, the endless laundry, the fact that no matter what I cook for dinner it always ends up being one color.

My friends, I am not much of a shake it off kinda girl.

So, perhaps, just maybe …  as I was preparing the mashed potatoes for dinner, I overheard Blonde’s commentary on his dislike of such a dish:

“Ugh,” Blonde said,  “I don’t LIKE mashted potatoes. They’re kinda tasteless. And squishy.”

And then, maybe… just maybe I said:

“Huh. That’s exactly how I feel about your father. Kinda tasteless. And squishy.”

I know. Tbe ninja snark is strong with this one.

After copious apologies and kisses on the husband, I then decided to add this to the menu for dinner:IMG_7185.jpg

Note the strategic coffee cup placement. Foreshadowing.

We had BLT’s with fresh tomatoes from my mom’s garden:


Along with squishy and tasteless mashed potatoes. And at the table was seated a husband who forgives me on a daily basis. Also present were two kids who ate a lot of bacon, after delicately removing any trace of the T or the L, and bread. And the heavens smiled.

Because carbs and bacon will solve all the world’s problems.

Problems like:

  1. Snarkitude
  2. Mashed potatoes (Also, add cheese. Oh my goodness.)
  3. North Korea
  4. Mullet haircuts
  5. Reality television
  6. The deep sucking void that is, basically, 2017

So we end this little tale happily.

My cats are medicated.

We’ve had our fill of pork products.

And I am, most surely:IMG_7185.png






S = Snark Attack!

tiger_shark_2012_by_feeves-d5b9lyhSo… last Sunday my women’s Sunday school class wanted me to make a Pact with them.  I love Pacts.  They keep it real.  And they add a degree of suspense to my day that otherwise would be, you know, laundry and Connect Four.  Pacts are all Survivor-y and Hunger Games-ish.  I like to dial-up my inner Katniss.  So I was all, I’m IN!  The odds are ever in my favor!  And I look so CUTE in a side hair braid anyhow!Katniss-Everdeen-the-hunger-games-fan-club-30601998-530-725

But. I digress.

Here’s the Pact:  We would not say anything negative TO or ABOUT our husbands for an entire week.

I’m already trying to test the fine print on this one.

It’s just…  he’s cute.  And as far as easy prey goes?  He’s a baby turtle buffet.  I love, LOVE teasing the man.  Just adore it.  It is the wind beneath my wings, the Snark attack.  It gives me such great joy.  I KNOW Jesus would understand.  I mean, really, He SAYS we are to choose joy, right? That’s in the bible somewhere*.  Right?  And Snark is my love language.

Sigh. Perhaps I have gone on enough about levels of Snark of which I am capable.   It makes me sound… callous and uncaring.

Nah, I got more.

photo (2)

In this picture my husband is clearly indicating his love and devotion and patience. And, that he might qualify as a hipster.

I was thinking about how we operate, we Snarkalots.  We circle in.  We do a lot of side eye-ing.  We wait for it…  and then, BAM!  We find fresh meat.

Generally speaking, Snark attacks work best in packs.  (A pack of Snarks is called a Snack, by the way.)   Snarking alone?  Possible, but not as…  satisfying.

For those of you gentle souls who are on the baby turtle side of life, the following is a helpful tool for keeping the Snarks at bay.  With Snarks, sometimes the best bet is simply:  Don’t go in the water.  Stay away.

The hubs is really good at this.  He simply smiles, and wanders off whenever the Snark fin appears.  He then settles down on his beach (couch) with lots of sports, ESPN, and some chips, and in all his affable detachment he just doesn’t even let me BITE.  Maddening.  But smart.  Snark repellant.

Momsie’s Dictionary of Snark Terminology:

There’s a Snark in the water:  The ominous Snark music is cued, and one should start heading for dry ground.

Bull snark:  The snark is recognized as being very very full of poop. Note:  This does not deter the Snark.  Of course.

Snarknado:  When other Snarks join in, and it’s a frenzy of Snarkism.     It’s more fun this way.  See also:  Marital Discord.

Snark Tank:  An attempt at Snark that just… fails.  As in, hits bottom.  Sinks.  Goes belly up.  Note:  This does not deter the Snark.  Of course.  A Snark’s gotta keep moving.

Snark Week:  Generally this week is fueled and fed by crazy hormones.  It is best not to speak of this week.  It’s too graphic.

Great White Snark:  Snark’s first appearance at the pool.  Other snark mommies show up. It’s paleness all around.  See also:  Pool Snark.

Pool Snark: a special breed of Snark that wears the “Mom suit,”  lots of SPF 50, and downtime.  Snark usually increases exponentially at the pool due to heat and glare. It’s easier to Snark behind gigantic, dark sunglasses.

Killer snark:  You know when you really are SPOT on with some snark and it just is sooooo perfect?  The zinger?  The APEX of snark?  Note:  Can have harmful side effects on marital relations.  See Jumping the Snark.  and Marital Discord.  Again.

Basking snark:  Summer Snark is finding her tan.  Also: A Killer Snark just surfaced and Snark Momsie is basking in the glow.

Jumping the Snark:  Snarking has gone too far.  The end is near.  Your relationship with your husband (main Snark recipient) has decided to cancel your show.

CLAWS:  70’s blockbuster about a snark with a particularly evil set of claws.  And yes, I know we’re mixing metaphors here but stay with me.CBM001_i_can_has_cheezburger_magnet_madison_park_group_funny_lol_sarcasm_sarkasm_just_another_service_i_offer_cat_kitteh__57961.1336510338.1200.1200

And finally…

“We’re gonna need a bigger gloat”:  The Snark has become so full of herself that she uses movie quotes to savor the moment.  See Basking Snark.  And also:  Marital Counseling .


After all this, there is really only one final term that any good Snark needs to know:

Remorsa:  Uh, this one kinda speaks for itself.


Sorry sorry sorry… I love youuuuuuuuu.

*The Momsie Bible maybe…  the Newly Organized and Paraphrased Edition ( or  the NOPE ) is my go-to bible for highly doctored, often massively inaccurate mutations of verses so I can prove a point or make my life easier.

Oh my friends.  Try to tame your inner Snark.  Or your husband will eventually start acting like this guy:



Of course, I have to leave you with this:

You’re welcome.

Things I am Just Not Grateful for:


NaBloPoMo:  Not for the faint of heart.

NaBloPoMo: Not for the faint of heart.

I know it’s November, and this month we are all about gratitude.

But.   Todays opposite day? So I’m going to post?  This?

Top Ten Things For Which I am Not Grateful:

1.  People who are up talkers? At the end of all their sentences? They don’t really have an idea at all, really? What they’re talking about?

2.  Overuse of the !.  People,  I’m an English teacher. Yes, I chose to do it.  Listen to me:  use more than one of those suckers in an academic paper about something erudite and literary and crud, and you end up sounding like you’re name is *Brittani!  And you’re so pumped!  Because you’re trying out for your 7th grade cheer leading squad! (Double bonus if you use a heart to dot your !  And yes, it has happened.)

3.  There’s a Wocket in My Pocket.  That book creeps me out.

4.  Know what other book really creeps me out?  I’ll Love You, FOREVER.  Wow. Forever? Enough to crawl in your son’s window at night when he’s in his thirties?  Lady! Get a life!  This is American Horror Story stuff!  Please!  (Ok, see rule 2.)

Screenshot 2013-11-22 20.43.55

LOCK THE WINDOW .                                      shaungroves.com

5. People who say, “Do as I say; not as I do.”  (Yep, see rule 4.)


7.  Close-talkers.  There are too many walls around to deal with you people.



8.  “I myself.”  What other “I” are you talking about?  It’s troubling.

9.  Socks that you bought at Dillards for like a lotta amount of dollars, and they keep slipping down over your heel.  It’s un-American.

10.  And speaking of un-American: any toy from Dollar General.  It’s gonna last about 24 minutes.

Bonus:  Bra straps.  I hate them.  I realize that gravity exists and all, and we need ’em.  And there really is no super comfy strapless option out there me.  Strapless is all about, well, prom night or Victoria Secret bouncy fleshyness.  Not momsies who are tired and just don’t like to deal with the added hassle.  It is possible I need to stop buying my bras at Dollar General. (All right, all RIGHT! See rule 10.)

Oh YEA!  And another thing!  The Victoria Secret commercials?  It’s Christmas?  So of course they gotta start airing them all the time?  Right?   Baby Jesus… and diamond encrusted bra straps.  Sigh.

Image 11-22-13 at 9.00 PM


Oh, and people who start lists and then just end up rambling and whining endlessly.

The end.

*If your name is Brittani, I apologize.  You took one for the team today.  Well done, chin up, and keep telling people it’s with an “i” not a “y.”  Carri on soldier.

Go here to read a very accurate review of this nutball book.  Shaun gets the creepy.

I promise – I’ll be grateful again.  Just not today.  I feel much better.