Ok, so as of.....30 seconds ago we are now The Snark Tank, and you will be regailed with stories of Bitey (That'd be me, in the purple aka Snowflake for all of like....2 hours) and Chompers.
So allow me to give you the background i neglegted before in an attempt to just get something up. See, Chompers and I have been discussing the making of a blog for oh let's say..... 2 months now.
So today I said "F that" and made one.
You're welcome.
Tangent- Because Chompers and I have been talking about doing this for entirely too long, we have actually started telling the other one to just "blog it out". Bad day? Blog is out! Uber Pissed? Blog. It. Out. See a trainwreck hit on a trainwreck? BLOG IT OUT! But I digress
Howdy, I'm Bitey The mid-twenty-something work-a-day half of the blogwreck. Workin' 9-5, what a way to make a living. I graduated, as so many did, during the economic shit storm that was the late aughts, so as far as I'm concerned, I'm one of the lucky ones.
God Bless the Unlucky Ones, particularly the mid-twenty somethings living in their bedrooms of old. Nothing says sexy times like bringing your date home to a race car bed or My Little Pony sheets. Just sayin.
I live in "The Big City" compared to Chompers, so think of me as more Dirty Martini and Chompers more Miller High Life. Both will get you fucked up, but I'm going to cost you more, and you can't pick me up in a grocery store. Best part of living in the "Big City" the part of town i live in is totally no pants friendly all year long. You can walk down the street day or night and see at least 3 people bottemless. Really bizzare? totals. Worth it? Every time.
Oh swell, catch you later
-Bitey
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Moving Right Along
Greetings blogosphere! This is co-blogger Chompers of soon to be The Snark Tank fame. I hope you all are finding this Wednesday well because, frankly, I wasn’t until my beautiful, beautiful co-blogger Bitey gave me the best e-surprise of all time (yes, even better than that one guy who sent nudie pics via facebook -we were NOT that serious!): this here blog!
Ok, background: I am the “college age” correspondent for this fine piece of internet literature (yup, first post and we’ve already started fishing for a book deal) attending a nondescript, tier four “institute of higher education” which we all know means the only difference between this little slice of heaven and your average American elementary school is that the cafeteria has chain restaurants and the girls may or may not have a little fuzz down south when they show you what’s in their pants in exchange for pudding and half a pack of necco wafers (yes, this has happened to me). That said, the b-e-a-utiful trainwreckage that is this campus is just that, UH-MAAAAAZE-ING. Best part: it’s in a rural part of the Durdy Souf: trainwrecks with accents.
Pleasantries aside, let’s get down to brass-tax with our first ever segment of:
Can I Just Say?
That I -a white, middle-class male in a lab group otherwise composed of African-American females of varying age and weight, was the fortunate participant in a lab experiment entitled “Who’s The Daddy?”
Pause for emphasis –I’m literally raising my eyebrows suggestively as I type this.
That’s right, there is a God –and he has one fandamntastic sense of humor! I literally yelped with glee when, upon finishing my pre-lab minutes before class (like I do) There I was, casually flipping through the day’s assignments to assess the damage (that class is forever long –like, waiting on Ricky Martin’s queeny ass to come out of the closet long. Tangent: why was that even relevant? When was the last time you heard his name? Answer: 1999ish) and I stumbled across the title of our experiment having to do with blood typing, or gel electrophoresis, or some such sciency bullshit. Guys, I for real could not catch my breath for at least twenty seconds –it was that good.
Fast forward to class time: my lab partners (who will henceforth be referred to as Mah Gurlfrans) and I are sitting in lab. After our strikingly frog-like TA (imagine Professor Umbridge and that raspy-voiced kid with specs from “Little Rascals” had a baby –that’s her) finishes going over the homework, Mah Gurlfrans and I flip open our lab manuals and I audibly gasp. Mah Gurlfran #1 laughs. her. ass. off. at the title as Mah Gurlfran #2 mutters something about racism under her breath (she’s a middle-aged black lady: ‘nuff said). I am, at this point, visibly uncomfortable which does not go unnoticed by Mah Gurlfrans. After much hemming and hawing, we get down to business and discover Maury-style that, of course, the blackest lab group in the room is indeed the father. Mah Gurlfran #1 proceeds to pantomime Maury’s “you are the father” and “you are not the father” mannerisms for the next five minutes as TA Frogger tries to reestablish order. Order reestablished, we move on to experiment number two which involved snapping various bits and pieces together to form plastic DNA strands (seriously!? a $200 lab fee to play with fucking K’NEX?). We are now two hours deep in lab and Chompers is hungry so he starts directing the construction of said DNA strands. Not about to let the obvious racial goldmine that was our first experiment, Mah Gurlfrans proceed to piss and moan about how all I do is order them around. I deny this vehemently and continue ordering them around. This, too, does not go unnoticed by Mah Gurlfrans and they continue pissing and moaning until finally Mah Gurlfran #1 begins to call me “Massuh.” It is at this point that I lose all ability to comport myself in a manner befitting a young man of good raising. Y’all, we had that entire room in fits of laughter going on about “guh you so crazy” this and “illegitimate slave-baby” that.
Moral of the story: attending shitty public universities affords you the opportunity to basically re-enact issues of Dave Chappelle’s show in a relatively safe environment all while earning college credit.
Ok, background: I am the “college age” correspondent for this fine piece of internet literature (yup, first post and we’ve already started fishing for a book deal) attending a nondescript, tier four “institute of higher education” which we all know means the only difference between this little slice of heaven and your average American elementary school is that the cafeteria has chain restaurants and the girls may or may not have a little fuzz down south when they show you what’s in their pants in exchange for pudding and half a pack of necco wafers (yes, this has happened to me). That said, the b-e-a-utiful trainwreckage that is this campus is just that, UH-MAAAAAZE-ING. Best part: it’s in a rural part of the Durdy Souf: trainwrecks with accents.
Pleasantries aside, let’s get down to brass-tax with our first ever segment of:
Can I Just Say?
That I -a white, middle-class male in a lab group otherwise composed of African-American females of varying age and weight, was the fortunate participant in a lab experiment entitled “Who’s The Daddy?”
Pause for emphasis –I’m literally raising my eyebrows suggestively as I type this.
That’s right, there is a God –and he has one fandamntastic sense of humor! I literally yelped with glee when, upon finishing my pre-lab minutes before class (like I do) There I was, casually flipping through the day’s assignments to assess the damage (that class is forever long –like, waiting on Ricky Martin’s queeny ass to come out of the closet long. Tangent: why was that even relevant? When was the last time you heard his name? Answer: 1999ish) and I stumbled across the title of our experiment having to do with blood typing, or gel electrophoresis, or some such sciency bullshit. Guys, I for real could not catch my breath for at least twenty seconds –it was that good.
Fast forward to class time: my lab partners (who will henceforth be referred to as Mah Gurlfrans) and I are sitting in lab. After our strikingly frog-like TA (imagine Professor Umbridge and that raspy-voiced kid with specs from “Little Rascals” had a baby –that’s her) finishes going over the homework, Mah Gurlfrans and I flip open our lab manuals and I audibly gasp. Mah Gurlfran #1 laughs. her. ass. off. at the title as Mah Gurlfran #2 mutters something about racism under her breath (she’s a middle-aged black lady: ‘nuff said). I am, at this point, visibly uncomfortable which does not go unnoticed by Mah Gurlfrans. After much hemming and hawing, we get down to business and discover Maury-style that, of course, the blackest lab group in the room is indeed the father. Mah Gurlfran #1 proceeds to pantomime Maury’s “you are the father” and “you are not the father” mannerisms for the next five minutes as TA Frogger tries to reestablish order. Order reestablished, we move on to experiment number two which involved snapping various bits and pieces together to form plastic DNA strands (seriously!? a $200 lab fee to play with fucking K’NEX?). We are now two hours deep in lab and Chompers is hungry so he starts directing the construction of said DNA strands. Not about to let the obvious racial goldmine that was our first experiment, Mah Gurlfrans proceed to piss and moan about how all I do is order them around. I deny this vehemently and continue ordering them around. This, too, does not go unnoticed by Mah Gurlfrans and they continue pissing and moaning until finally Mah Gurlfran #1 begins to call me “Massuh.” It is at this point that I lose all ability to comport myself in a manner befitting a young man of good raising. Y’all, we had that entire room in fits of laughter going on about “guh you so crazy” this and “illegitimate slave-baby” that.
Moral of the story: attending shitty public universities affords you the opportunity to basically re-enact issues of Dave Chappelle’s show in a relatively safe environment all while earning college credit.
A Suprise in Every Box..........
..........and a crazy in everyone's heart.
Howdy! And welcome to Snark-a-Topia, the home of Twinkle and Snowflake. Because Twinkle sparkles and shines like a diamond in a gay bar, and I'm unique with an unbeating heart of ice, like a Snowflake. We will be the voice of the common twenty-something struggling with trainwrecks, morons and anything else throws at us with the cynicism and snark of someone at least twice our age and 3 times as perpetually drunk.
If you are reading this well fan-damn-tastic! Especially if you aren't co-blogger Twinkle. Oh the ramblings and oddity that this blog will be. As you can see all posts by Snowflake will be in purple, a personal favorite color of mine.
Shoot us an e-mail if you feel the need. We have plenty of free time on our hands so odds are-> you will get a response.
Peace, Love and Cocopuffs!
-Snowflake
Howdy! And welcome to Snark-a-Topia, the home of Twinkle and Snowflake. Because Twinkle sparkles and shines like a diamond in a gay bar, and I'm unique with an unbeating heart of ice, like a Snowflake. We will be the voice of the common twenty-something struggling with trainwrecks, morons and anything else throws at us with the cynicism and snark of someone at least twice our age and 3 times as perpetually drunk.
If you are reading this well fan-damn-tastic! Especially if you aren't co-blogger Twinkle. Oh the ramblings and oddity that this blog will be. As you can see all posts by Snowflake will be in purple, a personal favorite color of mine.
Shoot us an e-mail if you feel the need. We have plenty of free time on our hands so odds are-> you will get a response.
Peace, Love and Cocopuffs!
-Snowflake
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