A Couple of Snark

Tonight I got in a friendly argument. No harm done. But what bothers me is that I backed off, when I really shouldn’t have.

Here’s the thing: I know what clothes you need to buy, I know what cologne you need to wear, I know what car you need to drive, what computer you need to use, what toilet paper you need to wipe your ass with, what mouthwash you need to gargle with, what oil you need to saute with, what team you need to support, what beer you need to drink, what cigar you need to smoke. I know where you need to live, and I know how you need to get there. I know what ring you need to buy, and who you need to propose to. I know how many kids you need to have, and what you need to name them. I know everything.

I know what stocks you need in your portfolio, what supermarket you need to shop at, what pharmacy you need to frequent. I know who should be insuring your vehicles, home, and health. I know these things.

I know when you need to say what you need to say, and how you need to say it.

I am the sultan of spin. I have no reputation to ruin, I don’t have an image problem because I don’t have an image. I have a presence. And it is undeniable.

I am the man.

I am human, and I am sorry. I have lived a life unrepentant of the mistakes I have made. I have lived a life, all the while cursing the trauma I experienced at the hands of the orchestrators of my childhood; at the hands of the racists and bigots and abusers that defined my existence. At the hands of the leaders that failed to lead and the mentors that failed to comfort. I have lived a life allowing myself to be defined, yet refusing to define myself. I have lived a life with no significant accomplishment. I have lived a life of mediocrity and complacence. I am human, and I am sorry.

I have rejected my humanity, embraced a divinity and spirituality — cursed, blamed, and forgone responsibility for my errors in search of something unseen to hate. I am human, and I am sorry.

I have asked the important questions, but anticipated the wrong answers. I have turned down the hands offering to feed me. I have embraced conflict in the hopes that the calumniation I have experienced be justified in the end. I am human, and I am sorry.

I have taken for granted a life of comfort, ease, and at some times, opulence. But I have sworn, time and again, to make things different for the generation that will follow me. I am human, and I am sorry.

I have embraced the hurt within me, and downplayed that of others. The death, struggle, misfortune and loss suffered by others in my life pales in comparison to my own suffering. I am human, and for this, I cannot apologise.

I am human.

As I begin this update, I am completing an activity that I have only ever performed twice in my life as a potty trained individual. I just took a crap on a toilet that wasn’t located somewhere I was also sleeping. Yes, that is correct. I have only ever defecated at home or in a location where I would later be asleep. The only exceptions to this were:

1) As a primary school boy in the 5th grade when I just couldn’t hold it until the end of the day.

2) As an 11th grader on an internship in New York.

And then we have now…at work…in the middle of the day. I am upset, needless to say. This isn’t a personal hygiene or OCD thing…I’m fairly certain the toilets in my office are used less and cleaned more often than the toilet in my own apartment.

But there’s something disconcerting about trusting my bare ass to this horribly industrial, white plastic toilet seat.

As a child, I didn’t suckle on anybody else’s mother’s breast. I didn’t sleep in anybody else’s bed. I didn’t eat anybody else’s food off anybody else’s plate, and I damn sure have not pleased anybody else’s wife (girlfriend, yes…but wife, ABSOLUTELY not).

I guess the point I’m trying to make is that taking a shit anywhere but the place you’re willing to make your home is just fucking wrong.

Don’t do it. Because if you do, I wouldn’t be caught dead inside you…or even just talking to you.

Because of…
1) Every time you have ever lost your keys.
2) Every time you have ever lost your wallet.
3) Every time your transmission has failed on a car you bought 3 months ago.
4) Every time you’re paying too much for rent.
5) Every time your flight is delayed.
6) Every time your cellphone battery runs out of charge.
7) Every time someone leaves their clothes in the dryer.
Every time you can’t find your meds.
9) Every time the liquor store is out of Angostura bitters.
10) Every time you can’t find parking.

Being Valentine’s day, I’m sure you’re expecting a long list of why I hate this holiday, and what a stupid, materialistic waste of time it is. But you’d be wrong to expect that. Because the truth is, there are few holidays I enjoy as much as this one.

There’s nothing wrong with Valentine’s day. There’s never any obligation to be around those you can’t stand. There’s oysters, and dark chocolate, and caviar and champagne. There’s time to be spent with the ones closest to you, time to enjoy their words, the warmth of their embrace, and the sparkle in their eye that only seems to appear when they’re at their happiest; when they’re with you, and when it seems like absolutely all your troubles melt away.

Keep loving, lovers.

T’was the snark before Christmas,
When, all through the house,
Not a person was sober,
Drunk on Famous Grouse.
The ladies asleep,
Jizz still in their hair,
As I crept out of bed,
And down, stair by stair.
Now under the tree,
Fallen off from the chez,
My 12-Pack of condoms,
And tossed off negligees.
But hark, do I see?
Do mine eyes deceive?
An unexplained gift,
On this Christmas Eve.
“Santa! He’s come!”
I yelled and exclaimed,
And danced, and pranced,
With no ounce of shame.
I picked up a note,
And read it with joy,
“Zachary, ho-ho-ho! You’ve been a very bad boy!”
My heart slowly sank,
With these words Santa wrote,
And my bones felt a chill,
Deep in my winter coat.
“You shameless lothario,
These women you’ve bed!
So for Christmas this year,
Not one more you will get.
I’ll teach you a lesson,”
He continued to scold.
“I’ll give you one crazy,
She’ll sure break the mold.
Her ass is as plump
As a ripe Christmas goose.
Her hair, red like holly,
Or bright Christmas fruit.”
“Oh no!” I cried out,
“Surely I don’t deserve!
Rapists or murderers,
But not this poor perv!”
With fear I did turn,
But to see standing there,
A girl, with an ass,
And the craziest hair.
My Christmas gift,
It appears, here to stay,
Is an unpleasant house guest,
In the snarkiest way.

—- Happy Holidays from the crew at A Couple of Snark —-
Love, Zack & Laura.