adj. snark·i·er, snark·i·est Slang
1. Rudely sarcastic or disrespectful; snide.
2. Irritable or short-tempered; irascible.
I get tons of (I’ll refer to them as) “compliments” on my sarcastic and b*tchy attitude. I’ve been called super snarky on a gazillion occasions. And truth be told, I like being snarky.
It’s self-defence, y’all. Picture this:
I felt an absolute, urgent need to talk about it. Bigger urgency than a ginormous loomergency. I’m totally serious. Because, compliments like that make me feel like I need to explain myself. Like a compulsion or something. I’m sure this is abnormal – but then there’s nothing normal or textbook nice about me. So yes, I’m snarky. Deal with it.
I’ve mentioned – way too many times – that I hate cousins. With cousins, comes baggage. Not pretty and chic Burberry baggage, y’all. I’m talking people, my cousins’ significant others who they’ve been dating for, like, two seconds. I have this one particular cousin, who I used to be best friends with, until he started dating this overly airbrushed chick he met on Facebook. (Like Facebook hasn’t ruined enough already.)
Now, I’ve got no problems with people dating whoever the badooshes they want. Everyone is entitled to their own take on romance and the shenanigans that come with that kind of crap. I am not judging. Just so we are clear.
But then, this genius cousin of mine had to go and make me talk to his brand-spanking-new squeeze and all possible Hell broke loose. This is how some of the conversation (on a conference call) went:
Cousin: Sooch, you’re on conference call. With you know *insert sickeningly rubbish pet names here* and please, behave.
Me: Duh. Okay.
The squeeze comes online.
All three of us, excited squealing: OMG Hey!
Please bear in mind that my cousin is twenty seven and he effing squealed.
Exchange of pleasantries.
Stupid lovey banter. Me, feeling like a eavesdropping freak/voyeur.
And then out of the blue:
Squeeze: Can you hang up? I need to talk to my husband, alone. You’re eavesdropping.
Silence from my cousin’s end.
The squeeze continues.
Squeeze: Don’t mind but I think you wear too much makeup. Kinda makes you look like a drag queen. Your bro showed me pictures. You might wanna bulk-purchase makeup remover.
Holy Crap. Me, stunned into total silence. Then:
Me: Ooh. Weird coming from a girl who goes to sleep with ten pounds of makeup on! Also, what’s with the “husband”? You guys have only JUST MET. Like, two seconds back.
Now, my cousin is mad at me. I’ve been ordered to apologize. Balls. I’ll do it when Hell freezes over. Drag queen?! Seriously? And before you lunge at me – I absolutely have NO problem with people who like to cross-dress. I ADORE Conchita Wurst. She’s freaking amazeballs!
Anyway, so I’m now working on an apology:
And all the while she’s probably like:
Even though I’m not a vengeful person. But she pushed my effing buttons! Did I mention, I FRIGGING HATE COUSINS?! But some good came out of that. I love snarkiness. Period.
Wear it like armor, y’all. It’s a life-saver.
Embrace the snark.