My ex-husband used to call me the Snarkboat Captain.  I have to tell you, if you were to question him now, he’d tell you that it wasn’t so much that I was a grumpy person, but a master at the helm when it came to biting commentary on all things irritating that made the snark ship sail.

If you’re not familiar with the word snarky, let me give you a sampling of Websters synonyms so you’ll get the gist: cranky, cross, snappy, testy, etc. Those words give the overall impression of a prickly personality, I understand – but, you should know that to truly be snarky is… oh, so much more.  Snarky has an impertinence that grumpy doesn’t have and attitude that cranky can only dream of.  Honestly, I’ll take a table of the snarkiest women ever over simply testy ones, any day of the week (preferably, on Sundays).

Yeah, yeah.  Snark happens.  Not all of the time, but let me tell you — I earned my license to be a card carrying member of the snark club a long, long time ago.  Life has repeatedly launched things at me that would have made even the saintliest of individuals angry.  And not just angry, either.  I’m talking red-hot furious/enraged/fuming/downright wrathful.  Yet, somewhere along the road to adulthood, I realized that being perpetually angry was going to be a colossal waste of my time and energy.  Even if I did have a right to be rankled by it all, because like a lot of people out there, my life was less Norman Rockwell, more abnormal and mocked well (yes, I still remember those comments made in junior high and high school about my home life).  Starting in utero, I was surrounded by rageaholics, alcoholics, substance abusers, plain ol’ garden-variety abusers, narcissists, schizophrenics and a whole host of other folks that guys like Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung would have had a field day with.  Me?  Not so much.  Even without therapy, I knew early on that the bumper sticker platitude of “Don’t sweat the small stuff” was going to have to be turned upside down in order for me to survive.  See, you just can’t get steamed up over the large, nasty, rosy-nosed elephant in the room or let every personality disorder you’re related to raise your blood pressure.  It’s just not healthy.

As I mentioned, I really am a pretty even-keeled person with occasional admitted bouts of temporary insnarkity.  In order to not blow a mental health gasket (and not sweat over the big stuff), every now and again my snark meter has to boil over.  Being snarky is so much more manageable than being angry is, and it provides loads of entertaining fodder for conversation around the Sunday table.  Here’s the short list of the inane and ridiculous that trigger my most snarky episodes:

…impatient and overly caffeinated people on the congested roadways ofLos Angelesat all hours of the day and night (city of angels, maybe – but none of them driving cars, I assure you).

…having my typos pointed out.  [Uhm, hello!?  I have no agent or editors with big red pencils on my team wearing my “T.” on their polo shirts.  I’m fully aware of the shortcomings of my fingers, thank you vey much (I mean very).]

…hearing the words, “Have you put on a few pounds?”  Why?  Does your car/dining table/visual capacity have a weight limit that has the OSHA people concerned?

…those who don’t take responsibility for their personal happiness and comfort, instead choosing to place that burden on friends, neighbors and members of the community at large.  Wow.  That waitress/flight attendant/government employee didn’t smile at you.  I’m so sorry for your pain.  Here’s a Junior Mint to cool the fever that rages within you.  And a Get Over Yourself card from the nice folks at Hallmark.

…Charlatans.  And the people who promote them, knowingly and believing there will be no fallout from their folly.  Fools and ignoramuses, the lot of them, with no moral compass, whatsoever.

So, there you go.  Between the devil and the deep blue sea, Snarkboat Captain, I may well be.  But, perhaps you’re a member of the crew, too?  You and I may never repair all of the holes in the hull from the storms (and stormy individuals) we’ve weathered, but we can gather around the table and discuss the journey, even if there is a snarkfied tone to the tale.  Sundays are, after all, a lovely day to dock and talk.

< xo – t. >

 “Say, it’s only a paper moon, sailing over a cardboard sea….”  — E.Y. Harburg

“Only fools and charlatans know everything and understand nothing.” – Anton Chekhov