The Upsell is Ticking Me Off

53853949c74cb236cae412a229775635I want to live in a world where you can get your oil changed and aren’t subjected to a five-minute upsell on various fluid replacements and the granddaddy of them all – new air filters. I’m no conspiracy theorist, but I’m beginning to believe that each oil change shop has one all-purpose grimy, Darth Vader black, air filter that they keep behind the counter to convince you that you do indeed need to spend upwards of $100 on new ones. And because I was having an annoying morning I floated that idea to the oil change guy.

I told him the air filter he was showing me looked like I daily drove my car into the belly of a coal mine. There was no way that was my filter. Mainly because I just had my filters changed last time. Dropping that bomb got the guy to back off on the upsell which was a good move on his part. There was some bad mojo happening inside my brain and I felt like I was about to lose my mind. I had the tag lines for all the Real Housewives of Atlanta stuck in my head (which FYI is a million times worse than having a song on cranial auto loop) and it’s was making me super cranky.

If you’re right now going huh over the whole tag line thing here’s a quick Real Housewives primer. The opening of every Real Housewives show features the “ladies” (Yep quotes around ladies because the women who are featured as “housewives” don’t demonstrate even remotely the gentle graces of that appellation. If there was truth in tilting all the shows would be called the Real Shrews of Insert City of Your Choice Here.) saying some ridiculous one liner about their lives. For instance on the Real Housewives of New York one unemployed woman, getting a divorce for the last decade, and quite possibly suffering from some sort of Botox poisoning that has led to delayed cognitive skills says “I have a taste for luxury, and luxury has a taste for me.”

When the oil change guy was berating/scaring me about my filter I was this close to belting out Atlanta housewife Kandi Burruss’s tag line from 2015 “I’m not about the drama. Don’t start none, won’t be none” which would have been muy embarrassing. Plus, I know it’s not the oil change employee’s fault he’s aggressively trying to upsell. It’s part of the 21st century retail experience.

There’s not a store I can think of you where you can complete your transaction without some sort of upsell or continued invasion of your privacy. It’s gotten so bad when I check out at Target I immediately look the cashier in the eye and politely state that, “No I do not want a Red card in either debit or credit form.” Even worse are all those stores with point systems and now some retail conglomerates have grown greedy tentacles and created point octopuses. This is where you can sign up for points at say a clothing store and also get gas points at a convenience store that’s not even in your time zone.

It’s so confusing that to use all those points you would need at least a Bachelor of Science in forensic retailing. Forget about the reality TV show Extreme Couponing that’s for amateurs. Clipping coupons and digging through dumpsters for newspaper circulars is downright remedial. The real drama would be watching someone track, sort, and use all their shopping points.

Enter the RPI – Retail Point Investigator. (Think of it as a CSI combined with the shopping acumen of Black Friday groupie.) This breed of scientist would look at your points and determine their DNA (ie what store they really came from), if there’s any cross contamination between retail establishment thus rendering your points invalid, use the latest in mass spectrometry to find important clues like if  your points have been combined with your husband’s or if there were cast off points and if there’s trace evidence to suggest if you should be receiving double or bonus points. I can’t be the only one who thinks this would be must watch television. If there’s a CSI:Cyber there’s no reason why there can’t be a CSI: Retail Points Investigator.

Plus imagine the viewing audience it would pull in. Thankfully most of us have lives that aren’t touched by a murder, but all of us have retail points. I’ve already got a great idea for the pilot. A woman walks into an oil change shop and just as the guy is trying to sell her a new filter she whips out a points card. Does the woman buy the new filter with points? Does the oil change guy declare that they no longer honor those points? Is there a throw down? Is it time to call in the Retail Point Investigator? Stay tuned.


Dear Snarky – My Engagement Ring Is Butt Ugly

Screen Shot 2016-02-03 at 9.59.08 AMDear Snarky,

I just got engaged and while I’m super happy about getting married I’m totally disappointed in the ring my fiancé gave me. I don’t mean to sound like a brat, but the ring, which is apparently a family heirloom, is a hideous monstrosity of intertwining bands with an almost indiscernible diamond. I just can’t imagine wearing it for the rest of my life.

I make decent money and I’m totally cool with buying or going in with my fiancé on what I’m going to call a more suitable ring, but I don’t want to start any soon-to-be in-law drama.  Do you think it would be okay to be honest about my feelings?

Signed, So Not A Pinterest Engagement Ring

*Thank you to the almost 100 people on my Snarky FB page who offered up their very thoughtful suggestions on how to answer this letter. I read every single one of your comments and from your insight formulated my response.

Dear Pinterest,

You’ve got some homework to do. First, find out exactly what the story or lineage is behind the ring. By this I mean did your finance’s dad buy it from the jewelry counter at Walmart 25 years ago or is great, great, great, great grandma’s ring from 1776.  (Also, if your fiance’s mother is still alive, then umm, why are you getting her ring? Is she trying to get rid of it?)

Next, would any family members object to you getting the ring reset or modified? The answer maybe YES because that would denigrate the antique or emotional value of the ring.

Once those questions have been answered I would use the ring issue as an opportunity to explore the primary building blocks of your relationship. Have a serious talk with your fiancé about the ring. Be honest about your feelings and see if the two of you can come up with a plan that would make both of you happy. For any marriage to have any long-term success the husband and wife have to be a team and united in all of life’s big decisions. You think this ring thing is huge – just wait until  you have kids or career and financial issues.

The way I see it the ugly ring is a blessing because it’s allowing you and your fiancé a chance to really examine your future and how you’re going to deal with family and conflict.

If you have a question for Dear Snarky – 21st Century Advice With An Attitude – please send your letters to or private message me on my Snarky FB page.

Dumbassery – A Lifestyle Choice

In a one-hour perScreen Shot 2016-01-28 at 11.41.23 AMiod last week I saw two things that made me fearful for humanity. It’s not like I was looking for signs of the apocalypse. I swear. I was just running errands and minding my own business as best I could. I have to add that caveat because as some of you may have figured out by now MYOBing is a skill set I’ve yet to master. But I promise I was very focused on my To Do list and not looking to be amazed at the idiocy of humankind.

My first moment of we’re all doomed was at an organic grocery store. I was there to buy cheese puffs. I got you there right? You thought I was going to say arugula or radicchio. But no, it was puffs I was after. Specifically puffs to pack in my 15-year-old daughter’s lunch. Did I care if they were organic? Absolutely not. My main concern was cheese puff coating transfer and cheese veneer vulnerability. You see these “healthy” puffs are the only ones I found that don’t shed their orange patina all over your hands. Apparently, having your fingers working a day glow hue is not socially acceptable in a high school cafeteria setting.

So, there I was ambling through the store with my two bags of puffs that I think were garnering me some food shaming looks. I get it. Most of the shoppers have their organic cart swagger going on. They’re loaded up with the no’s. As in no GMO, no gluten, no preservatives, no additives, no dyes and no unhappy dairy cows and there I am double fisting cheese puffs. Also, the majority of the clientele are all sporty in their Lycra leggings, Patagonia jackets and boots that cost more than my house payment while I’m wearing Old Navy corduroys. This means that when I walk my thighs rub together making a sound that can best be described as a symphony of cheese graters.

Now, while I’m making music I notice the trifecta of disgusting. It was so gross I almost dropped my puffs. At not one, but two of the sample stands people, grown people, were 1) Free range sneezing like their snot had healing properties and needed to be shared all over the samples. 2) Fondling the samples so vigorously I felt violated just watching. 3) One woman licked, yes licked, samples and then put them back.

What is wrong with people? You’re paying a premium price for a strawberry that had a loving pre-harvest home life and yet you’re okay with using your bodily fluids as some sort of “all natural, gluten-free” marinade! I wanted to say something to the licker, but I was afraid to approach her. After all somebody that French kisses food items and then walks away can’t be all there mentally. (I did though give a heads up to the store management about their Typhoid Mary samples.)

My next stop was Macy’s when something so disturbing happened I still flinch thinking about it. As I’m looking through a sale rack, a lady, also pawing through the Ralph Lauren sportswear separates, is on her phone telling her child that grandma had just died. Yes, a death notification of a loved one was delivered in the women’s department at Macy’s AND the lady didn’t miss a beat as she relayed the news she checked a price tag. I didn’t even know the grandma and I released my grip on a darling lilac cashmere V-neck sweater for a moment of silence.

Even if I play devil’s advocate and run a couple of scenarios through my head like maybe grandma had been at death’s door for days, maybe the mom had told her daughter an hour ago that death was near or maybe even that grandma was a huge jerk whose family hated her – none of it equals sharing the news while shopping a clearance sale.

I was so alarmed I group texted my children, “When I pass on under no circumstances are you to deliver the news to anyone while rummaging through the remnants of a 60 percent off sale at Macy’s. I don’t care if you have WOW coupons.” I added, “I at least deserve the respect of a Nordstrom’s or Neiman Marcus notification.” I also threw in a safety tip “and for the love of God never eat a grocery store sample.”

Of course, I got nothing in the way of text reply from my children. When I texted again about the no reply my son sent back his usual response, “I really want out of the family group text” and my daughter totally dissed me with, what I think was, an eye roll emoji.

Whatever. My kids can discount what I saw and heard all they want, but I know a major case of dumbassery was going on that day.



Dear Snarky – Make Over Mess Up


I used to work in the cosmetics industry (make up artist, fashion stylist) before I had kids and I had some pretty high-profile clients. Now, I’m the mother of a 12-year-old girl and recently I gave one of her friends a “make over.” I thought the girl looked glamorous and classy not TRASHY, but her mother freaked out!

I didn’t apologize at the time because it’s make-up. It washes off! So, what’s the big deal? But now the mom is talking crap about me up at the middle school and saying I “vamped up”* (Editor’s note this is the cleaner version of the word that was in the letter)  her daughter? How do I shut this down?

Signed, Hating the Suburbs

Dear Hating,

I think something more maybe going on here. Because I’m with you make up washes off so really why the whole going cray thing? BUT this mom may have a no make up rule till 16. Every family is different. For example, I was not allowed to get my ears pierced till I was an adult.

It could even be the mom thought that the make up made her 12-year-old looked older and she didn’t like the visual. Now, if photos of the girl were posted to social media I can see a parent going full mama bear because hello a picture of her sweet little girl looking 20 something is out there circulating.

I feel your best bet is to apologize to the mom. Tell her you had no idea she would get upset and that you were just showing your daughter and her’s some makeup techniques. Then in the future I would stay clear of doing any make overs on minors unless you have the moms permission because that’s the kind of world we live in today

*If you have a question for Dear Snarky 21st Advice With An Attitude please email me at or leave me a private message on my Snarky Facebook page.

Add This To the List

939b3764eb0fd0ab5ea958c7cd1bb286I just discovered something new to worry about. The good news is it’s not a life threatening kind of worry. The bad news is how could this worry not have ever crossed my mind? It was totally M.I.A. in my “things I might worry about someday” pile that ricochets around in my brain like a teaspoon stuck in a garbage disposal.

This new worry came about courtesy of some women who have older kids. They were sharing horror stories of their adult children having serious romances with or in some cases even marrying (and divorcing) people who are hauling around some pretty hefty personal baggage that has the power to not exactly ruin your child’s life, but certainly crush their credit score.

These credit crushing young adults even have a not so nifty moniker. They’re called “FICO fiances/fiancees” or “Fiscal Drags” – college educated young men and women who are up to their still unfurrowed brow in college debt. There are even levels of Fiscal Drags. The worst, according to the sisterhood of the traveling hormone creams are the liberal arts majors with advanced degrees from “fancy east coast” schools.

Mom A whose son was smitten with a woman who has a degree from Vassar in Victorian Studies says she was “freaking out” over the relationship. “You can’t tell me she’s ever going to be able pay six figure in loans working retail at Anthropologie.”

Mom B did a one up and shared that her daughter was almost engaged to a “boy with a more than $125,000 in college debt who never even graduated.” The parents had to go hard-core with a Powerpoint presentation to illustrate to their daughter “the amount of debt she would be marrying.” The mother said her husband labeled the presentation “Attention K Mart Shoppers.” (Although that kind of dated shopping humor was lost on the millennial.)

The STEM degrees also should be approached with caution. Mom C explained in detail how getting hitched to a doctor can be a nightmare. I learned from her that if your child falls in love with an aspiring M.D. going through schools on loans make sure it’s “someone who wants to be a cutter.”

That confused me. So, I asked for clarification on the term. Mom A quickly explained that if you’re not wielding a scalpel you’re not making the money. Mom C jumped in with “that’s yes to the plastic surgeon and no to the family practice doctor.”

These women were scaring me. I was frightened by their frankness and their flippant ability to breakdown relationships based on credit scores and lifetime earning potential. Although I understand where they’re coming from. The stress of financial debt is a marriage killer.

They also pushed my panic button. With a child in the second semester of his sophomore year of college I’m constantly texting my son with grocery store coupons and money-saving tips. (I save my beloved Kohl’s cash for me. I’m afraid he’s just not Kohl’s cash worthy yet. Although I dare to dream of that day coming very soon.) I do all this because the price tag for a college education is beyond outrageous even at a state school.

How did we allow this happen? Since I graduated college in the 80’s some studies point to the cost of college increasing by 500%! And to circle back around to my friends FICO fiancees fears all I have to say is good luck finding a future spouse who isn’t walking down the aisle with some sort of loan lodestone around his or her neck.

I believe I was blessed to go to college back in the day when my parents could, with a straight face, tell me to “major in what I loved and to do work that would make me smile every day.” And that was said with two kids already at the University of Texas. Of course that’s when a semester hour at U.T. was, and I’m not kidding here, $8.00! Yep, a semester hour of college cost the same as a couple of Happy Meals from McDonalds.

Fast forward three decades and my sweet son had to get a cold, hard lesson on college costs from my husband and I. No sunshine and unicorns for him with parents whose careers surfed the tech bubble bursting, the housing bust and the worst recession since the Great Depression he got sobering lesson about the American economy. And although my husband and I are footing the bill for college my son was still strongly encouraged to select a major that would ensure him a job immediately after graduation and has an earning scale that would outpace inflation. Do I feel bad that we never mentioned the word smile? You bet.

Dear Snarky – My Secret Santa Gift to My Boss is Coming Back to Bite Me In the Ass

Dear Snarky,dear_snarky_logo

 I think the Secret Santa gift I gave my boss may end up costing me my job. In December everyone in the company drew names for Secret Santa. I got my boss and the gift rules were something funny and under $20. I thought it would be hilarious to give my boss the Walmart version of Spanx.

 She seemed okay when she opened the gift and sort of  laughed. But last week I got a horrible year-end performance review and a couple of my co-workers say it’s because I insulted my boss by giving her an XL tummy shaper. What should I do? I don’t want to lose my job.

 Signed, Not Unemployed Yet

Dear Not Unemployed,

 Let me get this straight – you thought is was okay to give your boss an extra-large girdle and to add insult to injury you did this in front of the entire office. I’m surprised she didn’t fire you on the spot. You pretty much violated every rule of business decorum and even worse you hurt your boss’s feelings. Your gift wasn’t funny it was mean-spirited.

 You need to immediately go and apologize to your boss explaining that in retrospect you realize your gift was out of line and that you in no way meant to hurt her feelings. Then after that groveling episode I would start looking for another job because I have a feeling your boss is never really going to like you – ever. I also suggest taking a class or reading a book about how to get ahead in the work place because you definitely need some help.

If you have a question for Dear Snarky “21st Century Advice With An Attitude” please email me at or private message me on my Snarky Facebook page. :

Winning the New Year/New You Game

Screen Shot 2016-01-13 at 12.34.03 PMAck! A new year. Someone hold me I’m scared. There’s just way too much pressure associated with a new beginning. Sure, a fresh year is full of promise and you know all that other good stuff like making goals and realizing or redirecting your infinite potential, but it can also be like walking barefoot on a shag carpet that’s laced with Batman Legos – a big ouch! (You don’t know real pain until you’ve stepped on Batman’s pointy, little Lego ears.)

Take losing weight. Wait, nope, scratch that. Losing weight is so 2015. The 2016 way to classify dropping 20 pounds is now called personal optimization. What it really should be labeled is “The 2fer of Shame.”  Why 2Fer? Because not only do most of us never achieve our goal weight, but then we feel bad about it and spend countless hours beating ourselves up over it as we eat an entire container of discounted holiday Poppycock and watch My 600-lb Life on TLC thinking, “Well, at least I’m not on a TV show starring the morbidly obese.” Okay, that might just be me who does that, but still you get my point. More often than not all that New Year New You jargon results in is the old you feeling like a failure.

That’s why I, in an attempt to kickstart 2016 right in it’s pristine, unsoiled by resolutions that  disappeared at the first sighting of a Krispy Kreme drive thru, posterior started my New Year New You campaign way back in November. Therefore already accomplishing one of my resolutions to be more organized by getting a two month running head start on everyone else. (Can you say genius move?)

 To begin my 2016 self-improvement campaign I did loads of research which means I went to Barnes and Noble and before I could even make it to the self-help area was distracted by an Us Weekly magazine. Now some of you maybe beyond proud that you can do 50 of those burpee things which, come one, are really re-branded squat thrusts that we all did back in middle school P.E. So let’s call them what they are – 7th grade gym exercises that made us cry. I, not being a burpee girl, am all braggy about my ability to read an Us Weekly in under four minutes. 

 My personal best was back in April of 2004 with Jennifer Aniston’s “super sexy secrets revealed” on the cover. I read the entire issue in three minutes thirty-seven seconds. Go ahead be impressed. I welcome your awe. So based on this how could I not stop and time myself as I read an Us? The bad news, I did not break my record. I blame the riveting article (and in US Weekly terminology that would be three sentences) on Khloe Kardashian.

 After I clocked a disappointing 3:58 I continued my journey to self-help and this where I saw the bestseller Year of Yes. The Year of Yes is written by the super talented Shonda Rhimes who created the T.V. shows Grey’s Anatomy and Scandal. In her book, or at least the part a read while in the B&N Starbucks line, this amazing woman shares how her entire life changed when she “committed to saying yes to everything for one year.” This got me excited. I could do this. 

 Hello to another resolution and buh bye to my sanity. 

This saying yes thing did even make it a week because besides the predictable things that are going to happen when you say yes like your children thinking they’ve died and gone to heaven is that you get stuck doing things you have avoided, with good reason, all your life. Now, thanks to a scant 72 hours where I said yes I’m now recording secretary on two non-profit boards! 

 I love volunteering, but recording secretary is a position I have always avoided primarily because you have to pay rapt attention the entire board meeting. And If it’s a lunch meeting you can’t even take delicate board size bites of your Panera turkey sandwich because you’re typing away like a 1950’s court reporter in a Perry Mason T.V. procedural. There’s not even time for an eye roll (and were’s the fun it that?) when a know it all board member (and really there’s one on almost every board) begins his or her’s scolding/lecture about how “we’re doing it all wrong.”  Ugh. I don’t know about you, but I think I’m more of a “Year of No” type of person.

 My next resolution was courtesy of the book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing. My take away from this book was that in organizing your life and your surroundings you should only keep things that bring you joy. I tested out this resolution while making the annual spring/summer to fall/winter clothing change over. While going through my clothes I made two stacks. One was a joy pile – clothes that made me happy and the other was a ho-hum pile – clothes that I had little or no feelings about. 

 There was a big, big, problem with my two piles. If I chose to wear only the clothes that made me happy I would most likely be arrested and committed to a long-term mental health facility. This is because in my joy pile were all my “skinny” clothes I kept in the delusional hope that someday I will be able to wear them again, my worn out sweatpants, and my wedding dress. 

 Here’s a fashion statement for you. A very middle-aged woman barely wearing a wedding dress from the 1980’s because it’s so small on her she can’t zip it or I fear duct tape it together with puffy sleeves so large they could do double duty as a landing pad for First Responders and underneath it all she has on sweatpants and a tube top from Port Aransas Spring Break 1984. Now imagine this woman running errands in that “joy” ensemble and raise your hand if don’t think some frightened Target employee wouldn’t dial 911.

This is when I had an epiphany. I was making the wrong resolutions. I needed to think bigger, not be so me focused, so selfish. I should branch out and think global. So, after much thought I have a new list and I’m going to pat myself on the back a little and share it’s going great. I’m really sacrificing and doing what it takes to make sure these resolutions stick. For instance, one of my top five resolutions involves watching more Bravo television in an effort to it’s help it’s parent company NBCUniversal boost their profits therefore ensuring job security for thousands. It means making an extra effort, but I can proudly rejoice that I’ve yet to miss one episode of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I don’t want to jinx it, but 2016 just maybe the year I finally achieve New Year’s resolution success.

Dear Snarky – Should I Go On a Vacay With My Ex Boyfriend’s Family?

Dear Snarky,dear_snarky_logo-1

 I had a nasty breakup with my boyfriend of three years on New Year’s Eve. During Christmas his family had invited me to go winter camping with them in February. I still want to go because I love his family and even his sister told me I should go with them.

 What do you think? I’ve already asked for the time off from work and bought some cool camping gear. Also, I don’t think I should be left out of the fun just because my ex is a jerk.

 Signed, Camping Kara

 Dear Camping,

 First, I’d like to say it sounds like you dodged a bullet. Camping in the dead of winter? What kind of fresh hell is that? This is my way of saying under no circumstances are you to go on your former boyfriend’s family vacation.  I don’t care what his sister says it would be at best uncomfortable and at worst an emotional blizzard. This is your life not a Nicholas Sparks movie where you’ll be reunited with your ex after a deadly avalanche makes him realize how much he still loves you.

 Have you even thought about the what if’s? As in what if your ex brings a new girlfriend to the vacay? Also, you’re going to be out in the wilderness. It’s not like if things go cray you can call Uber and head for the airport. You’ll be trapped with these people in an igloo or snow hut where your only chance at escape is being eaten by a bear.

Trust me on this – return your camping gear, stay home and work on moving forward with your life. 

The Casper Syndrome

Screen Shot 2016-01-11 at 10.02.43 AM

You know I’ve never minded getting older. My go to has always been as long as I stay young in spirit and have a certain cheerful zest about life I’m okay with the aging process. Well, let me now share that ship has sailed and I’ve entered the full-blown cranky person phase of my existence.

I blame the mall.

I know some of you maybe thinking, “Dear God, she’s going to rant about the mall again? Here’s a tip quit going.”

If only I could my friends, if only I could. But alas, I’m the mother of a teenage age daughter and going mall free is not a viable option. Granted I did not have to go to the mall the day after Christmas, but some grandma money was calling my daughter’s name and after spending 48 hours in what I would refer to as a forcible lock down with her family my 15-year-old was fixated on getting to Abercrombie.

Stay with me; don’t go over to Buzz Feed  just yet. I promise I’m not going to linger on Abercrombie. I’m aware that I’ve beaten that horse to death  blog wise. Instead I will be discussing the mall in a larger context starting with addressing a pressing social issue that I think is being egregiously ignored – the 14 to 24 demographic being totally bereft of having any spatial self-awareness.

These poor young people, raised on iPhones, have zero idea of how to walk or stand in any sort of group setting. In fact, I would go as far to suggest that they all might be suffering from some sort of delusional depth perception where they perceive themselves of being invisible or even ghostly apparitions where people are able to just walk through their human form. In the interest of science, I have labeled this disorder the Casper Syndrome (as in Casper the Ghost).

This generation of Casper’s will come to a dead stop in the middle of a surging crowd to look at their phones blissfully unaware that they are impeding the flow of mankind and even causing other fellow carbon life forms to stop short and wipe out by a ridiculous store for girls called Garage. (I’m sure aptly named because that’s about the only place I would let my daughter wear that collection of tramp-a-doodle-do.)

These Casper’s also have the innate ability to place their bodies in the most well-traveled place in any store and basically camp out on their phones while they block the forward movement of any other bipedal mammal. Even when another person says a very polite “pardon me” or a more aggressive, “you and your phone need to move out-of-the-way” the Caspers are unable to grasp the dual concept that they are making people feel stabby and that they have created a human barricade.

You know the Casper Syndrome is widespread when you witness a mall cop spending his day telling teens to keep walking and explaining the fundamental concept of moving their bodies to the side of a walkway or aisle instead of parking themselves in the center.

Another thing that catapulted me into the extreme crank zone is the age old question of not why did the chicken cross the road, but how long does a line have to be for a store to open up another cash register? I even felt compelled to assist one retail establishment with basic math.

Here’s the word problem. There are four registers and only two cashiers working. Meanwhile, there are two “managers” sashaying down a line so long customers have nicknamed it I-35 and asking people if they had “found everything they needed.” What is the best way to improve the speed of this line?

The correct answer is telling the sashayers, “Hey, how about if the two of you stop with the chit-chat and get on a register because four working check out stations equal four times the customer service.”

I got the stink eye, but I’m proud to report that an additional register was open. Not all the registers of course, because that would have made sense. Then when it was FINALLY my turn to check out I was told they couldn’t take cash! WTH? That’s spitting on the very foundation of the American economy. I’m sure it’s even considered a treasonable offense. I’m not going to sugar coat it. I had a breakdown.

Finally, the manager confessed that the problem was they couldn’t open the cash drawers of the registers. (Hello, have your tried a nail file?) That was my cue to storm out in a very dramatic fashion until my exit was abruptly stopped/blocked by what else but two Casper Syndrome teens. God help us all.



Dear Snarky – I’m Skinny Now and I Think My Girlfriends Hate Me

Screen Shot 2016-01-06 at 9.00.07 AMDear Snarky,

My diet is breaking up my friendships. About two months ago I went on a clean, plant-based diet – no sugar, no gluten, no meat and slowly I’ve noticed my friends dropping me. The straw that broke the camel’s back was when I was excluded from New Year’s Eve plans. My feelings are really, really, hurt. Do you think my girlfriends are jealous of my weight loss or just intimidated by my healthy choices?

Signed, Getting Skinny

Dear Skinny,

You’re going to have to ask yourself some tough questions. First, are these women real friends? Because I doubt good friends would dump you because you’re losing weight. In fact, the opposite would occur they would be proud of you and encouraging.

Two and think carefully before answering – Are you being a food Nazi –  critiquing and judging everything your friends eat and drink? If you’re calorie shaming or broadcasting the carcinogen levels of everything your buddies put in their mouths than I’m guessing  you’re making them feel so uncomfortable they don’t want to be around you.

Maybe these girlfriends were more drinking buddies than besties? Maybe they think you’re a now skinny pain in their backside? The only way to really find out what’s going on is to sit down and talk with them.  Yep, at first, it’s probably going to be an uncomfortable conversation, but it sounds like you’re up to the challenge. And if it turns out they aren’t really true friends throw back a kale smoothie and go out and make some new ones.

*If you have a question for Dear Snarky – 21st Century Attitude With an Attitude please email me at or private message me on my Snarky Facebook page.