I am horrifically inappropriate

It is not safe to bring me to meet your parents. Even while sober. And especially while drunk. (Ask my sibling about the time I told her future mother-in-law how much I liked her "Gone with the Wind"-Themed Pittsburgh Toilet/bathroom in the basement after the St Paddy's Day Parade) Additionally, you will find, that I'm probably not safe around the children.

I mean. Don't get me wrong. I have a children. I like my particular spawn rather well. I am also good with the children of my close associates, compatriots, and partners in crime. However. They have been well briefed not to repeat anything mrs. snark says, no matter where they are.

The most horrific things pass through my brain on a regular basis. And I giggle about them. Often. So it is not odd to see me walking down the hall just giggling. And if you ask "What's so funny?" my reply might very well be ... "Oh... I... um... just think funny things sometimes." Because I absolutely cannot tell you what I'm laughing about.

Well. Ok. I can tell you guys. I mean. You probably don't know the people that I'm laughing about, so it's all good fun. Case in point. Today. I'm walking to the water fountain at work. And I pass by the pregnant woman at work. (Oh, trust me, she is THE pregnant woman. And we ALLLLLL know allllll about her first, and now up-coming second, spawn. And every little stinking thing they do. And the words they say. And what they had for lunch. and... omg. yes. its that bad.)

So anyways. I see her. And she's. Well. She's a big girl. Tall. Broad shoulders. She's just. I mean, she's really tall. And. well. Wide. And now she's preggers. And fairly deep into the pregnancy, and she just. Well. She looks odd. Like. Well, like Jabba the Hut.

So now I'm in the hall, water dripping down my face, giggling. And I can't tell anyone why this is funny. Except it totally is. She's one of those people that is Smarter Than You (tm). She has a piece of advice on every single thing you've ever done or have ever contemplated doing. Even if she's never done it.

During her first pregnancy, she was giving me parenting advice. O.o

So trust me. It's funny. And so I consult with one of my coworkers on the issue, and she agrees that yes, it just looks weird. And it occurs to me that we are probably going to Special Hell for thinking these thoughts.

Special Hell is this place that is worse than Actual Hell in that every once in a while, you forget you're in hell. And then, BAM! Back on your heads.

Anyways. The point of this post is to give a shout-out to someone who isn't a local blog, but is a rather amusing blog, and sometimes a poignant blog, but all around a good blog. Someone who reminds me that it's ok to be as inappropriate as I am, because she's just as inappropriate. And if you're going to be inappropriate, you don't want to also be alone. So, a round of clicking for your aunt and mine, Aunt Becky:

only so many dots...

As part of maintaining my image as "not a gamer" I play in a few different games, we could call them roleplaying games, things like D&D, but not D&D. (Cue the leaving of all of my current followers and readers...) (All two of you. ;) ) Anyways. One of these games involves a system of "Dots" to account for the different skills that you have, and the level of skill you posses in any one skill.

In the system that I play, once you've used your dot, you've used it. Like, for example, if you attempt to "Drive your car down a set of stairs and not kill anyone" you might fail, and then you've used up your dots and can't drive anything, anywhere, no matter how normal.

The dot system continues in real life. I have "dots" in drive, photography, cooking, work stuff, etc. Sometimes I try to do something ultra-cool and it works out, sometimes I try to do something ultra-cool and it doesn't work out. Sometimes, I manage to do something ultra-cool, and then later try to do something fairly simple and utterly fail... it's these moments where I realize "Crap. I'm out of dots for the day."

I don't specifically have a story that goes with being out of dots, but I find it rather interesting that most of my compatriots follow the same theories. I have a friend who has stated, "Sure, I can remotely mount your virtual server and connect you through the firewall to your VPN, but I'm likely to get stuck in the elevator on my way home."

So, my easter wish for you is simple. May you all have enough dots to be enjoyed, but not enough to get in the way!

social contract

So, let's just get this out of the way right now before we go any further. I'm pretty much Hobbesian in my view of man and society, even though I'd like to ascribe to be more Locke-ian. The basic argument between the two (for the purposes of this post, and not, say, an exhaustive compare/contrast research paper on the two) is that Hobbes believed that without the social contract man would exist in a state of nature that was "nasty, brutish, and short" whereas Locke believed that "human nature is characterized by reason and tolerance."

Traditional views of the social contract posit that we give up certain liberties and freedoms in order to live in civilized society.... Basically, you give up the right to murder people and take their bacon with the understanding that other people won't murder you and take your bacon.

Anyways. That's all fine well and good, but in today's society, I think, (I swear I'm getting to the funny bit, just stick with me) we're not really in danger of people murdering us to steal our bacon, for the most part. I mean, most people will go to the grocery store and buy their own bacon without having to deal with the messy murder part.

Personally, I think there's a new social contract theory that's operating. It's the one that says something along the lines of "I will not point out how utterly pointless my daily tasks are. I will not get irritated when my coworkers use buzz words. I will attend meetings that suck my soul out through powerpoint presentations. And I will do all of this in exchange for my paycheck, which, while not what I am worth, still allows me to buy bacon."

Because today the concern is less that I will be attacked by Indians who wish to do me harm, than it is I will be nagged into apathy and suddenly snap one day when they take my stapler.

They really oughta put this sort of thing in the employee manual, or at the very least, make you sign it when you're doing all the hiring paperwork. I think it would really drive home what you're getting into before it's too late.

shout out

So, blog shout out to: Burghilicious for not only catching the reference with my blog handle, but for potentially venturing out to sample one of my favorite restaurants.

I think I'd like to start doing "other blog" shout-outs from time to time on local blogs that I think deserve a read. And since Pittsburgh is in the title of mine, yes, local blogs. 'Cause Pittsburgh is awesome, n'at.

drive-through coffee hut

Normally Mr. Snark makes the coffee in Snarkville...every morning...french press, freshly ground beans in a burr grinder, water just below boiling. It's life altering. It turns you into one of those people who are ... you know... kind of irritating with their coffee habit.

Don't get me wrong. Any port in a storm will usually suffice when it comes to the morning cup. But if I get my preference, it's to be at home, drinking the nectar of the gods that is the snarvillian coffee.

This morning, however, was one of those mornings where I'm left to fend for myself in the way of acquiring my daily fix. I have attempted to fix this problem in a multitude of ways. First, there was the "Oh, I'll just get it at that coffee shop down the street" solution which was $1.98 each day.

Then there was the "Oh, I'll just drink the office coffee and save up for one of those pod coffee makers with the money I save." Which was $0.35 a day, and led to one of those pod coffee makers that would make a cup of coffee exactly big enough to whet my appetite but not stave off the dreaded headache.

The last solution involves this adorable little single cup brewer thingie that I got from the discount cart at the grocery store, requires size #2 filters, and ground coffee, and a little more dish washing then I'm usually willing to sign up for on any given work morning. (Sometimes the work kitchen smells like... err. Stuff that smells bad.)

So, this morning, I hit the drive-through coffee hut. (How lazy am I?) $1.89 and I get a chocolate covered espresso bean. The only draw-back is that sometimes you get stuck behind someone who needs a complicated latte, which is fine, because sometimes I need a complicated latte.

Later in the day, I learned that my eat-n-park is building a drive-through pick-up window for people who order take-out and don't want to get out of their cars to pick it up.

I'd like to say I'm embarrassed or something, but for someone who has spent over $150 and several months trying to solve the coffee problem because she doesn't want to wash the french press and take the 10 minutes it would take to make coffee, I really don't feel as if I'm in a position to judge.

never judge a blog by its cover

Point of fact: Coffee is in my title, bacon is not. I'm fairly certain I mention bacon here more often than I mention coffee.

Is this false advertising?

My face hurts and I am whiney. I went to the dentist yesterday to get a filling ... um. Hrm. Repaired isn't the right word because I didn't break it. Replaced? Yes, let's go with replaced.

See, back in September, I went to the Blue Ribbon Bacon Festival and was eating some bacon brittle, and I thought a piece of bacon got stuck in my tooth, but when I picked it out it turned out it was... tooth parts. So I chipped a tooth on something I shouldn't have been eating anyways, and had to go to the dentist.

I have this thing about the dentist. I brush. I floss. I use Listerine. I do all those things. And yet, I still have dental issues. Like, I have one tooth where the gum is receding because I brush too hard apparently. And now the tooth chippy thing.

So I go get it fixed in September, and whatever he does, he leaves a little pothole in there so that when I eat, it's like... I dunno... some sort of olympic sport to try and avoid that particular pothole, or to immediately go floss to get out whatever's fallen in there (I am suddenly struck by how profoundly TMI this all is.)

Anyways. Yesterday I go back to have him properly do the thing and now I'm all ouchey because of the giant needle they use for the novocaine. Oh, and my knees hurt because I started working out again. I think my basic point here is "damned if you do, damned if you don't."

Bacon may somehow be to blame for all of this.