#3words1story #010 ❤

In which I post three words and turn them into one story. Feel free to join in. 


I’m not really sure why I agreed to date a total stranger on Valentine’s Day. Wasn’t this day supposed to be about people you love? It’s not like I was going to fall for this guy. He was more muscle than brain, he’d already made at least two vampire steak jokes and he was contemplating taking me to watch Fifty Shades of Whatever The Latest Crapfest Is Called.

I told him that I’d rather watch my own eyeballs do the samba. He laughed at me and said something, like, ‘Oh yeah, that’s my favourite sport too.’ I figured that his mouth was just set to bullshit.

My suspicions were confirmed when the conversation turned to the most outlandish people he’s dated. It was somewhere around this point that I realised that I didn’t remember his name. He was busy waxing lyrical about some girl called Candy when I signaled over the waiter and demanded more wine.

“So, Candy was last year but the worst one has to be when I managed to hook up with my friends grandmother.”

It was only the thought of wasting precious (and expensive) wine that stopped me from spitting it out.

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked him. It was probably the most vocal I’d been in the past fifteen minutes.

The guy shrugged. “I’d just gotten the sack from my old job and you know, I bumped into her and one thing led to another.”

“There are several steps missing in that story,” I said instantly. I was itching to get a notepad and write all of this down but his face began to redden.

“You know, we were drunk and it just happened.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What were you drinking? Absinthe? How does something like that just happen? Does your friend know?”

He began to fidget nervously. “Actually, you’re the only person I’ve told.”

I didn’t attempt to conceal my grimace before I finished the rest of my wine. Clearly, this was a waste of time.

“Listen….” I paused in the hopes that he’s offer his name.

“Tom,” he said quickly, his eyes anywhere but in my direction.

“This has been interesting, but I’m going to go home and watch a movie. Something with enough explosions to help me forget this terrible date.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

We parted ways amicably and I was surprised to hear my phone going off when I stepped into my Uber.

I had a great time despite the awkward ending! Wanna do it again sometimes?

With an eye roll, I deleted the text and changed his contact name to Dumb Brady.


Valentine’s Day is stupid

First things first, and because I’m not entirely miserable…

Secondly, Valentine’s Day is so stupid. I’m not even sure why it exists. To me, it’s just another day. Being a loner means that things like Valentine’s Day pass me by. 

Literally, on Monday, someone was like, “Wednesday’s close…” and I had no idea what they were talking about. On Tuesday, someone asked me ‘what tomorrow is’ and I just said, “Wednesday’.

It took me a while to remember that it’s Valentine’s Day. 

I feel like Valentine’s Day should be for teenagers and little kids who love their mothers. 

Scratch that. Just little kids who love their mothers. Teenagers are already busy trying to avoiding catching STDs, do we need to give them a free day? Nope. We should abolish it just for the sake of the children. Really. 

Think about it. Flowers. Chocolates. Lingerie. Dinner. Valentine’s Day is literally all about the downstairs shuffle. It’s like the Barney Stinson of ‘holidays’ but The Playbook is really just retail bosses with a long list of goal$. 

The adult focus on Valentine’s Day is bizarre. If you’re over the age of 18, the day should pass you by. No woman should be sitting around at home wondering why her dude didn’t buy a bunch of chocolates that will be marked down in a couple of days. Or flowers that will die the same way regular flowers do. Or a card that becomes as pointless as all other cards. Or dinner at a packed restaurant. Or why he didn’t call. Same thing for guys. 
It really is one of those days that literally has money smothered all over it once you’re an adult. The only good thing is that they reduce chocolate and ice cream, but in this day and age, they do that because they know that plebs like me can’t actually afford real food. Either way, I’m not winning here. 

None of us are winning. 

Except for the people selling us this shit to begin with. 

And yes, I’m single, and if that makes me one of those people that’s not allowed to hate Valentine’s Day, the joke is on you. I hate what I hate! Plus, research is on my side. Apparently, Americans spend TWENTY BILLION DOLLARS on Valentine’s Day. What the fuck? That’s a lot of money. That’s like, how much a gazillion Mission: Impossible movies would make and let’s face it, at the rate Tom Cruise is going, he will make a gazillion. 

Imagine how much better life would be if they saved that money and just wasted it over Christmas instead. 


With social media, Valentine’s Day has probably become really annoying. Instagram, Snapchat, whatever else. I’m sure they will be awash with gross (sorry, romantic) messages all over the place and whatnot. 

I will be staying far away from it all. 

Here in Snarkville, February 14th is just another day. 

Just one more note. Valentine’s Week? 


February 9 is particularly outrageous. 

Chocolate day is EVERY DAY, thank you very much. 


Okay, fine. 

I will admit that I maybe have a crush on That Guy (guy that I work with who may or may not like me etc). At this point, there’s no running away from it. I literally start waving like an idiot when I see him. I tend to go over and talk to him (once again, I have no idea who this stranger masquerading as Snark is but I like her confidence). I initiate contact (once again, I have no idea who this stranger is). 
However, I feel like I do more talking than he does. We talk about him because I ask and that’s that. Not that I want him to ask about me because I’m a mess, but you know, as someone who examines other people in her spare time, it’s interesting that most of what he has to say about me is superficial. There was an awkward moment yesterday where he sort of came up to me as I was talking to someone else and we both started laughing (!!!). 

The main issue I have is that whenever I go to talk to him I basically feel ~things~ panic and do my best to get the hell away (oh, finally, here’s normal Snark!). And also he’s basically told me many, many times that I look good and I basically brush it off. I don’t know what that means to him. Or me. 

The second issue is that I work with him and I actually heard from someone who went out with a guy (we’ll call him X) who sort of works with That Guy. It didn’t work out and X started talking about this person and THAT WILL NOT BE MY LIFE. I am happy to just remain in the flirting stage forever than have people talking about me. Ew. 

The gossip at work is so gross. It’s even worse when you realise that you’re a part of it. I always stop and think SNARK, SHUT THE FUCK UP. At the same time, some people love to spread their own business. If they were slices of bread, they’d be buttered the fuck up, I mean, damn. You’re not that interesting. And even if you are, I’m only going to put you in my novel. You don’t want that. I might get a three picture movie deal. You never know. 

Anyway, yes for the first time in years, I have a crush on someone. However, I am still my own boyfriend for the time being. 

My last crush was a guy that I went to university with. I didn’t know his name because I didn’t speak to anyone. I had bad anxiety the whole time I was there, so it was a case of turn up and run away as soon as it was possible to do so. 

Until one day, when I was binding my project report or my dissertation, whichever I handed in last. There I was, struggling with the binding machine when he appeared. I can’t even remember if he was waiting, but I was so desperate that I asked him to help me. Neither of us could figure it out for a while before he did eventually, but he was so sweet and helpful. Even if it wasn’t meant to be, I’m glad that I got a chance to see that he was a nice guy. 

Anyway, enough about this yucky crush romance stuff. Bleh. 

Back to talking about how everything is terrible and annoying. 

#JusJoJan – 7/1/18 – snarkdelible

– (of ink or a pen) making marks that cannot be removed.
– not able to be forgotten.

Yeah, I’m going to turn to Pinterest for this one because I have nothing to say. I am in a state of mild anxiety at the moment because the last two hours have been horrible and not year of snark worthy. #effthatnoise

Well, Pinterest had several things to show me. 

The definition:

Couples pictures:

A lot of couple pictures. I hate to be that girl but there’s something about all of these pictures bar one that made me go ugh. How hard is it to just take a normal picture? Anything else needs to stay on your iCloud. I am not interested in your risqué poses or watching you suck face.
I am happy that you love each other but you can do that in person and spare the rest of us. I always find that the couples that don’t flaunt their relationships 24/7/365 tend to last longer. These people are clearly indelible wannabes. 



Allow me to put on my judgemental hat. 
Yeah…I am not a fan of tattoos in general. And I used to draw on my hands all the time! Call it a cultural thing or a me thing. I don’t really see the point in marking the skin with ink permanently. I can tolerate the small ones or things that have serious importance (your birthday doesn’t count), but anything else. Nope. I once saw this guy who has a weird sort of Celtic pattern on his leg. It made my brain hurt. I have this thing where certain patterns make my brain scrunch up and want to crawl away. 

I don’t know if that’s a condition or whatever, but it’s what happens. Ugly tattoos fall under the category. I find that the more tattoos someone has the worse they are (see: Tom Hardy, football/soccer players, most people with sleeves). 

Some tattoos just don’t make sense to me. Back tattoos. Neck tattoos. Any tattoo that requires a mirror in order for you to see it yourself. Knuckle tattoos. A tattoo of Jared Padalecki’s face. Song lyrics. Latin inscriptions. Face tattoos. Crosses (extra level of tacky). 


Plus, the cost! Unless you’re BFFs with a tattoo artist, oh hell no. Mama’s got bills to pay. Oh and the needle aspect is a non-starter as well. 


Before anyone throws a pitchfork at my head, I am not against people getting tattoos and I wouldn’t cross the street to avoid you, they’re just not for me. 

Anyway, unsurprisingly some people with tattoos don’t appreciate that viewpoint. Like, I always say, an opinion is a opinion and you don’t have to give a shit. 

I need a boy…

Apparently so. 

I feel like this has come up for me a lot lately. It started with that woman who looked at me like I was an alien for not having a boyfriend. Next, I met this guy at work and right now it’s interesting, but it’s also work and probably not going to happen. At least I don’t think so. I barely know him. He did say that I was good company on the second day that I saw him. And I did repeatedly go out of my way to talk to him and help him but only because that’s the kind of person I am. Very friendly. 

I feel his expression here is probably how people will react to the above line

A week after that, someone observed me and said guy and started making suggestive comments and I got all flustered. We have our own little greeting (like a weird fist bump/hand clasp) and we exchange words here and there, but I never get a chance to really talk to him so I can’t say that I like him. He’s very cute, though. 

Following that, I had multiple people ask me if I had a boyfriend. No. Why not? I can’t be bothered. When was the last one? A few years ago now (if we can call it that, LOL). It’s just a bit weird. I guess I’m at that stage in life where I’m thinking about these things. Kids. Life. The career is the main goal but ultimately, that might have to come after everything else. Do I even want to get married? Do I want to have to live with someone else? The answer is more in the no direction than anything else. 

It’s genuinely something that I only think much about when other people bring it up. I feel like some kind of leper, or like I’m weird because I don’t have a boyfriend, but I’d rather be comfortable with myself than go after something because someone else thinks that’s the norm? Does that make sense?

That’s where I’m at right now. 

Still waiting for Chris Hemsworth. Ha. 

If we’re talking about love I can’t say I would know it if it hit me. There’s only really ever been one guy that I was truly infatuated (and that’s never a good thing) by and I never actually met him in person. We would speak via instant messenger everyday, and later we’d pass messages on Facebook. His birthday was eight days before mine, we liked the same music. He got me into Slipknot (I say that like it’s a redeeming quality!) and in general, I guess I really liked him. It was years ago now but obviously it meant enough that I still remember it all. In the end we drifted away. Occasionally I see his Facebook posts with whatever girl he’s dating and I feel kind of funny, not jealous just…wistful. 

There have been others, and I suspect that if I’d gone to a mixed school as a teenager, I would probably have a different story. When you’re socially awkward and not exposed to something, you’re not going to be anywhere near it. For a long time, I found all guys awkward because all of the guys I knew were authority figures. I also have that kind of weird military commander relationship with my Dad (who wasn’t even in the military as far as I know, I need to ask lol!).

I guess the crux of the matter is that I probably would make a fool of myself if I attempted to even attempted to find a boyfriend today. Plus, I am genuinely okay without having one. It’s not like I’m a stunning beauty who meets nice people who are interested. I meet creepers and people who aren’t interested. Plus, I don’t put myself out there, ergo, no one decent is interested. It’s as simple as that. 

I don’t think it’s that unusual, I’m just not sure why I keep on getting asked this question lately. Do I look like I need one? Do I have a flashing sign above my head? WANTED: BOYFRIEND! Do I look like I have 85 cats in my future? 

I don’t know. Maybe they feel like I need a way to relieve some stress. In that case, I might need a boy or two, but not a boyfriend. LOL. 

Anyway, apparently I needed to get that off my chest. 

If anyone wants to apply to be my boyfriend, read through my blog and then re-evaluate your opinion. LOL. 

Go wild, go crazy (in love), go snarky!

song lyric sunday – flower in a field of weeds

This week’s prompt is falling otherwise known as an excuse to post a Billy Talent songs. Have I mentioned how much I adore my Canadian husbands?

This is one of my favourite songs of all time. 

Billy Talent – Surrender

She reads a book from across the street
Waiting for someone that she’ll never meet
Talk over coffee for an hour or two
She wonders why I’m always in a good mood

Killing time before she struts her stuff
She needs support and I’ve become the crutch
She’ll never know how much she means to me
I’d play the game but I’m the referee

every word, every thought, every sound
(Surrender) every touch, every smile, every frown
(Surrender) all the pain we’ve endured until now
(Surrender) all the hope that I lost, it was found
(Surrender) yourself to me

Even though I know what I’m looking for
She’s got a brick wall behind her door
I’d travel time and confess to her
But I’m afraid she’d shoot the messenger

every word, every thought, every sound
(Surrender) every touch, every smile, every frown
(Surrender) all the pain we’ve endured until now
(Surrender) all the hope that I lost, you have found
(Surrender) yourself to me

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds
I think I found a flower in a field of weeds
Searching until my hands bleed
This flower don’t belong to me

I think I found a flower in a field of weeds
I think I found a flower in a field of weeds
Searching until my hands bleed
This flower don’t belong to me
This flower don’t belong to me
Why can’t she belong to me?

Every word, every thought, every sound
Every touch, every smile, every frown
All the pain we’ve endured until now
All the hope that I lost, you have found
every word, every thought, every sound(

Surrender) every touch, every smile, every frown
(Surrender) all the pain we’ve endured until now
(Surrender) all the hope that I lost, you have found
I never had the nerve to ask
(Surrender) Has my moment come and passed?
(Surrender) I never had the nerve to ask
(Surrender) Has my moment come and passed?
(Surrender) I never had the nerve to ask
(Surrender) Has my moment come and passed?
(Surrender) I never had the nerve to ask

just friends

Written for ~ #LyricalFictionFriday ~ Please check it out and join in!

“It makes no sense to be falling…you’ve got her, I’ve got him, should not even be calling…

It was the little things that made me question our friendship. The way he laughed at my jokes, the way his eyes lit up when he saw me. The way I found myself unable to flatten my smile when I was around him. I beamed so hard that my cheeks ached. Laughed so hard that my chest did somersaults. We spent hours talking on various occasions, much to the chagrin of his significant other. 

In my mind, it was okay. We were just friends

Of course, it only took one seed of doubt for me to start to wonder. I felt comfortable with him, I expressed things that I’d never be able to tell anyone else. He understood my thoughts before I even got them out. He was my rock when everything else started to crumbled. 

The only problem was that I had someone else and he had her. 

My disdain for her wasn’t anything out of the ordinary until she warned me off him. It was the usual she’s not good enough and he can do better that skipped around in my head. 

It’s not until she spoke up that I even considered that my feelings were anything but platonic.  

I can see what you’re doing. 

I had no idea what she meant, at least not until I sat down and thought about it. 

We’re just friends

That’s how I reassured her. Looking back, it was only ever a half-hearted attempt to put her mind at rest. 

My someone took a more direct approach. He idly wondered when we’d become so close. Usually, I’d reply honestly but something stopped me. I couldn’t tell him that I spent hours talking to another man, that we exchanged messages and emails often, that we had umpteen personal jokes and understood each other on a deeper level. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if just friends was the right way to describe it. 

At this point, my someone and I were rarely on the same page anyway. We argued. We barely had time for each other, yet I loved him enough to stay; to want to work it out. His distance was a sore point, but maybe I was to blame. Maybe I needed to better. 

Months went by and I soon concluded that we were both deluding ourselves. My someone had checked out and I was checked into the wrong person. 

My interactions with him were often the highlight of my day. I’d still be smiling to myself minutes after we parted, I’d replay our conversations and instantly feel better. His voice rang in my soul like a warm echo, making sure each corner was in touch. 

I wanted him but he wasn’t mine to have. I wasn’t sure that he ever would be because we were…

Just friends. 

That’s all it could ever be. 

I had someone and he had her. 

Not only that, he loved her. I knew this because he talked about it. How she made him happy, how she’d been there for him. I didn’t like her but I grew to respect her through his eyes. If he was happy with her, I was happy for him. And unhappy for myself.

By comparison, I mostly spoke of how my someone was no longer the person I’d fallen in love with. I still loved my someone but I wasn’t sure if I was in love with him anymore. Everything was messy, tangled, like barbed wires dripping with barbecue sauce. 

When it fell apart, no one was surprised, least of all me. It turned out that my someone had someone else. It made sense. Here I was spending hours with another man and he’d barely blinked an eye. His heart was with another and mine was trapped in a wasteland. Given to my someone who’d returned it months ago and half with him, the one that wasn’t mine to have

The break up was amicable. I folded like a worn out pack of cards and watched my now ex-someone leave. There were tears, but not for the loss of what I’d had but rather over something that I’d never have.

At the end of the day, when the dust settled and I was left to pick up the pieces, only two words rang true. 

Just friends. 

This was written in the morning after I woke up after two hours of sleep. Muse, you sure have weird timing, lol. I hope that you like it.