A Snyder In The Sun

A Snyder In The Sun

Why Waste My Time Actually Living My Life When I Can Answer Stupid Facebook Questions Instead?

This post is self explanatory.  Probably.

  1. Favorite smell- Um, probably pizza?  Are we talking about food smells or just smells in general?  Either way, it's pizza.  Ohhhhh or BBQ.  Maybe french fries?  Food.  It's definitely food.  But not like that fried smell that seeps into your clothes even if you've only been engulfed in it for a few seconds.  I HATE that shit!  Sometimes my husband will decide to  fry up a bunch of onions when I'm already in my "good" clothes and I have to scream at him AGAIN that I don't want to smell like the inside of a greasy diner for the rest of the day.  If I knew he was going to get crazy in the kitchen I would've left on my old ass yoga pants that have become slightly high water in length over time.  He doesn't get it.
  2. Last time I cried- It's hard to tell as I have breakdowns on the reg.  Winky face.
  3. Favorite pizza- Now we're talkin'! Manco & Manco pizza on the Jersey boardwalk.  Formerly Mack & Manco's.  It's worth the trip to dirty Jersey, trust me.  A close second would be the Waymart Hotel in Waymart, PA.  
  4. Favorite flower- It used to be orchids but upon further inspection they sort of remind me of vaginas, so now I would have to say hydrangeas.  
  5. Favorite dog breed- CAT!
  6. Untie laces before shoes come off- Who has time for such nonsense?!  Also, I try not to bend down unless absolutely necessary.
  7. Roller coaster- Is this even a question?  Roller coaster what?  Of love?
  8. Favorite ice cream- Give me all the goddamned ice cream
  9. Pet Peeves- When people say "seen" instead of "saw" and lots of different noises at once. The noise thing is an actual issue that gives me incredible anxiety.
  10. Shorts or Jeans- Neither.  Jeans are oppressive as fuck and I've yet to wear a pair of shorts that I absolutely couldn't live without.  Yoga capris pleae.
  11. What are you listening to- A horrible commercial playing "I Want Candy."  Why tho?
  12. Color of your vehicle- I can't think of a more boring question.  That said, silver.
  13. Short hair or long- I love the idea of long hair and I'm in the process of growing it out after shaving if off.  However, when my hair is long 99% of the time it is up in a messy bun of some sort because I hate the feeling of it around my face.  Also, I get bored super easily and always want to cut it when it's longish.  Soooooo, I guess short?  
  14. Favorite food- Pizza.  Hands down.
  15. Favorite holiday- Snap, this one is tricky.  I love all things Halloween and Thanksgiving is a gluttonous food fest that I am also a big fan of.  Then there's Christmas.  Once I had kids Christmas became a stressful shit show, but they don't know that and the excitement they get as the holiday approaches is so stinkin' cute.  So, Christmas.  That's my favorite holiday.
  16. Night owl or morning person- I am neither of those things.  I despise waking up and staying awake past 11 (at the very latest) is so hard.  I'm almost 33 years old and I would rather be cozy in my bed by like 8:30 watching Netflix than be out with all the hooligans just a gallivanting around and waiting for trouble to ensue.  Some people say that nothing good happens after midnight.  I say nothing good happens after 9:00.
  17. Favorite day of the week-  The week?  Friday.  Weekend?  Saturday.  Again, dumb question.  Why am I doing this?
  18. Do you have a nickname?  Yes.  Would you like to know it?
  19. Favorite music- Ween.  Also, mostly classic rock mixed with the oldies and lots of female driven bands and singers. 
  20. Tattoos- I have 4 and want about 40 more.  Just like crack, they are addicting.  Or so I've been told. 

That's it, guys.  Yes, this was a monumental waste of time, which was probably why I did it.  Anything to avoid that pile of laundry in front of me.

Few Things Feel As Good As Not Having To Cram My Fat Rolls Into A Pair Of Jeans

It's happened, guys, I've reached my pre-pregnancy weight and then some.  It took 4 months but this bish did it and I'm pretty stoked.  It's not like I actually did any work to lose the weight, let's be real.  I just  fed my baby any time he demanded itand he sucked all the weight off, easy peasy.  Thanks, buddy!  It's not all sunshine and rainbows though.  In the aftermath of baby number three my body is all, Hey girl!!! I hope you like loose skin that resembles a stomach butt and a weird brown discoloration in your belly button 'cause that's the shit you're going to be rocking for a bit.  Sorry!  And I'm like, Thanks for nothing, you piece of turd.  And seriously, what's with that color thing anyway?

Despite the weight loss I've been living in leggings and jeggings, which are just a sturdier pair of leggings that aren't as comfortable but still give a much better range of motion than jeans when I'm trying to squat down to grab that tortilla chip I dropped on the ground.  Now, you're probably thinking I mean I'm wearing these things about 80% of the time.  No.  I wasn't exaggerating, I am legitimately living in them.  I wake up in leggings and go to sleep in them.  Okay, I guess I am lying slightly.  I ALSO wear sweatpants, which are the poor mans legging,  because FUCK JEANS!  Jeans are awful and I hate them and they make me sad when I try them on.  I foolishly thought putting on a pair when I was like a month post having a baby fall out of me was a smart idea.  I ended up getting them just past my knee caps and then spent the rest of the afternoon in the corner, fetal, and praying to a god I don't even believe in to just end it all because there was no way I was going to be able to go on.  A tad dramatic maybe, but you don't know my life.  Also, hormones.

The other day I thought maybe I would revisit those jeans because apparently I hate myself.  I went in with zero expectations that they would fit and was pleasantly surprised when they did.  However, they still weren't as comfortable as the buttery soft leggings that are billowing out of my pants drawer.  When you've been living your life in the smooth comfort of high-waisted (so as to suck all the rolls in) leggings from Walmart (I fucking hate this store but CHEAP LEGGINGS!) the feel of jeans on the skin is just oppressive and anxiety-inducing.  Sure, they looked dope (can I pull that word off? Probably not.) but at what cost?!  Maybe I'll just make jeans my formal wear from now on.  You know, for when I actually get to go on some sort of date with my husband, which probably won't happen until my youngest can converse because he is literally the most needy baby I have ever encountered.  What can I say?  He loves his mama and thinks the world is ending when I am out of his sight for more than .3 nanoseconds. 

I've given up on trying to be trendy and cute with things like jeans and shirts that don't have spit up and drools marks on them and fashion sweaters.  Yes I wrote fashion sweaters.  There's no reason for it.  I live in the sticks again and don't see anyone I need to impress.  My family are about the only ones I see on the daily and they already know I'm past the point of giving a shit.  I roll out of bed totally zombified each morning and stumble to the coffee maker with my eyes half crusted over with remnants of the sandman, or possibly baby vomit, it's hard to say, and make my coffee the strongest brew allowed by law.  Then I take a sip and hastily put it to the side because the baby needs me or my daughter needs her 4th breakfast of the morning.  By the time I get back to my coffee it's cold and I'm already awake because of the sheer force of will it takes to NOT scream at my middle child for patting her brother on the head just a tad too hard AGAIN.  So I'll just say fuck the coffee and walk downstairs into by bedroom cave and take off the leggings I wore to bed and switch them out for today's jeggings, you know, to fancy it up, and start my day, which will no doubt consist of countless baby feedings, refereeing my girls so they don't literally kill each other, all while trying to find time to breathe and be the incredible goddess that I am.  Who needs fancy jeans when I am just BURSTING with inner beauty?

These Are The Reasons My Husband Will Probably Divorce Me

I have been married for almost 8 years and I can guarantee that the things my husband might have found endearing about me when we first began our love affair are now that things that make him want to disappear into the woods for hours on end, such as my need to have as much white noise as possible when I sleep, not limited to a fan blasting at the highest speed and, as of recently, a video on Amazon Prime that shows the same picture of a stream for 4 hours at a time. No kidding, he tried to switch up my stream video during Halloween to a picture of a jack-o-lantern that played creepy music, which I'm not necessarily opposed to but just wasn't feeling at the time because I had finally found my sleep groove, and I just about punched him in the face.  Anyway, here's all the reasons my husband will probably leave my ass one day...

  1. The state of the interior of my car.  It drives him up the fucking wall.  It is extremely messy, but in my defense I have 1300 kids jumping up in that bitch all day long and I don't have time to make sure that the middle child remembers to take her Go Gurt wrapper off of the floor or to recycle my 400 seltzer cans that litter the front passenger seat, because that's where they get thrown when I'm trying to make room for a new can in the cup holders.  Also, I probably should throw away all the Dunkin Donut bags when I get home, but by that time the bag has slid onto the floor, mostly because of the fast driving and then slamming on the breaks, and I just can't be bothered to bend over and grab that shit.  Instead I put empty bags inside of empty bags until one massive bag forms and then I panic run to the car before my husband and grab that shit real quick before I get yet another lecture about what a pig sty my vehicle is.  I know I should just clean it out like he asks but it's fucking cold outside and this bitch would rather drive in filth than freeze trying to cram all the garbage into one little plastic bag because I'm too lazy to go inside and get another plastic bag, because once I'm inside, let's be honest, I'm heading straight to the couch while mentally congratulating myself on a half-assed job well done.
  2. I wash his t-shirts in the same load as his jeans and towels.  For some reason he seems to think that his shirts are vintage pieces of gold that need to be treated SUPER delicately, instead of what they really are: OLD WORK SHIRTS!  He doesn't own one fancy shirt.  Not one.  Nothing that costs over $20 anyway, so why the fuck should I do yet another load of wash just to preserve that tank top he bought at Target that seriously resembles a goat head in front of a pentagram?  If that one got destroyed I'm pretty sure no one would miss it, even Satan.
  3. I don't take the shower liner out of the bathtub before I bathe our children.  This one is an honest mistake on my part but he probably thinks I do it on purpose.  He must think the liner is riddled with germs and algae because I literally just heard him have a small stroke the other night when he went to check on the girls and the liner was in the tub with them.  OH MY GOD HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU KIDS TO TAKE THE LINER OUT OF THE TUB BEFORE YOU TAKE A BATH???!!!  It wasn't their fault in the slightest, that thing was in the tub when they got in, but I still totally let them take the fall for it.
  4. I am absolutely irrational when I don't sleep.  My baby has decided to regress to his newborn days and wake up every hour on the hour for the past few nights which has left me scrambling to remember who I am and why I am on this planet.  My husband has only had to deal with that sort of sleep deprivation when the baby was two weeks old and I was in the hospital getting stones removed from my innards.  That was almost 4 months ago and motherfucker (husband, NOT precious angel baby straight from heaven) has been able to sleep peacefully uninterrupted since then.  Yesterday morning he innocently came into the bedroom and sweetly said something about me being up all night.  Instead of calmly saying yes I had been up all night I yelled, I'VE LITERALLY BEEN UP ALL FUCKING NIGHT LONG WITH THIS NIGHTMARE OF A CHILD AND I'M FUCKING EXHAUSTED AND I'M NOT GOING TO GET ANY SORT OF BREAK TODAY BECAUSE YOUR OTHER CHILD IS GOING TO BE UP MY ASSHOLE UNTIL SHE GOES TO SCHOOL FOR A FEW HOURS AND EVEN THEN I WON'T BE ABLE TO NAP BECAUSE I GUARANTEE THE GODDAMNED BABY WON'T LET ME! And he said nothing and slowly backed out of the room.  As he should.
  5. I don't let him sleep in our bedroom.  Since he decided that snoring like a freight train was how he would live his best life, he's banned from sleeping with me.  He gets this now, but every once in a while he will still try to pass out while we watch shit on Netflix and I gently (READ: super aggressively) wake him up and send him on his way.  For now he has to sleep upstairs in the playroom on this super cute but horrendously uncomfortable futon thing I bought after eyeing it up online for months.  It's basically the equivalent of sleeping on the floor but if he really wanted to sleep in more comfortable quarters, like his own bed, he would figure out how to not sound like WWII is coming out of his face holes when he sleeps.  I already wake up 700 times a night because of the baby, I don't need to wake up in a panic thinking we're on Normandy Beach in 1944.

Now, I'm sure if my husband were in charge of this list, it would be a fuck of a lot longer.  I'm not stupid.  I annoy him on a daily basis with my constant need for attention while simultaneously demanding time alone because if one more kid follows me around from room to room singing or asking the same question over and over again I just might go out for a pack of smokes and not come back.  I'm not an easy person to cohabitate with, but neither is he.  Somehow we've made it work this long, probably because he's smart enough to know to shut his gd mouth when I'm ranting once again about some nonsensical crap like the bitch in Walmart that gave me side eye, or why I can't seem to get my shit together and stop wasting the lettuce I buy every week.  I mean, my intentions are good, but I just can't seem to make a fucking salad.  Whatever.  Somehow we work, which is a good thing because the thought of shaving my legs and putting my face on to impress some random ass dude off of the internet makes me want to kill myself hard.

Feel free to pass me around to your friends.  I like to be shared ;)