Sass & Bite

"If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they'll kill you" Oscar Wilde

Category: Random Musings and Insane Ramblings

PSA: Instagram Breaks are Good for Your Mental Health but Terrible for Your Overall Outlook on Humanity

So I’m writing what is, by my modest calculation, my 863rd cover letter. And it’s difficult. And boring. And I wish I could just write an offer for sexual favors in exchange for a job under my contact info heading and leave it at that.

But alas, my attorneys have assured me that would be unwise. So I took a brief recess to check up with everyone on Instagram.

I fondly laughed at the Flashback Friday to when Gucci Mane told the judge “Bitch I might be” when asked if he was guilty.
Jealously “liked” my friend’s photo outside the Sydney Opera House.
Made a mental note to check out the restaurant where someone tagged a really, really, ridiculously good-looking meal.
Pretty standard stuff.

And then. As I was scrolling past this lady’s photo of her new baby in his bedroom — because I’m generally not all that interested in strangers’ babies on the internet, you’ll probably be relieved to learn — I noticed one of the comments from a helpful Samaritan:

“Ah how cute! But you probably didn’t know that you shouldn’t have plants in you’re bedroom, it sucks up all the oxygen that you’re body need when you sleeping![sic]” (*Followed by a plant and green heart emojis).

I copied that exactly. That is what it says. To the letter.

And then, a few comments down, after a couple deadpan comments from people with a better grasp of science and also basic common sense, she got some backup:

“That is the first think I noticed too, Plants don’t belong in the bedroom. Your baby is adorable”[sic].

So I laughed, because honestly, it’s pretty funny. I don’t even have any snappy commentary, it’s just amusing.

Except then I realized they’re allowed to vote and also reproduce : (


Shout-Out to Sunglasses

Nothing like killing a bottle of tequila and a gallon jug of cheap wine between three people to remind you that you’re no spring chicken anymore. As I sit here praying for a swift death, rockin’ my largest pair of shades to protect against the glare of my computer screen, I’m reminded what a blessing my aviators are. So here’s to sunglasses, for easing our hangovers, making us look dramatic or mysterious, and letting us covertly stare at the people around us.

*Ed. note: I’m not a complete derelict, this was supposed to post on Sunday. Disclaimer, I’m not hungover on a Tuesday. This isn’t college. 578727cd0f84758ceb2211b9d057a3cb 95ea1d8b7fac036abbb51237dd57e4bd 311f4fc25ac71ca68cf519451efd5fb1 0b5c1743133631cfe9420ddf6b43ff01 5684196264a18ae72055c1b5d2e130e7 84b6cafc831e959bdaeb034c9ab7fb5e 827c9f9b8ed27d02c0f9ba18b712976e tumblr_m95cfo5dDf1qfrtudo1_500 f6c74c79c98495f29c2dc7cfe327521e 03c8e6cceda91ac9600721e37826e84c 2c1a47cee1c0911cff6cff1a3074e26a b213a2e052dd1dedb0e71391a3771763 0084d928e9710c116b9fe37ab4870c76 ecd4e977580f63356d3436101be80877 d9987445d9d4f769b83b536f534eea34 c465225518963a2a9a27081469ddb898

Every Time I Hear Katy Perry’s God-Awful Excuse for a Song, “Unconditionally”

I think of Bill Nighy in Love Actually saying, of his own attempt at a comeback song: “And particularly enjoy the incredible crassness of the moment we try to squeeze an extra syllable into the fourth line”.


Picture 1

. . . Well this is uncomfortable.

Attention, Purveyors of Clothing:

We need to talk. It’s been bothering me for like a year and a half now, and I had hoped it would go away on its own, but apparently that’s not going to happen, so I’m just gonna say it.

Not everything needs to be a crop top.

I know it’s all trendy right now, but for real, it is possible to manufacture a shirt that falls below the ribcage. And even make it look good. We have the technology.

I mean, some of us are not 16 anymore, and don’t care to dress like we are. Who let them dictate the trends, anyway? They have horrible taste. It’s Coachella and Zooey Deschanel every day with them.

Also, some of us have hit that proverbial slowing of the metabolism that we were always warned about, although I’m pretty sure I was told it didn’t happen until closer to 30.

And, some of us spend a little more time drowning our quarter-life crisis in wine and food than we used to, so a garment that doesn’t stop right at the most unflattering spot below the waist line but above the hips — you know what I mean, that little roll — would be much appreciated. Not only by us, but by the people we have to interact with on the daily.

Peace and Blessings,

Everyone who has graduated from high school and is trying to get their lives together, or at least dress like they are

I Heard about this “Blood Moon” thing this morning and I thought, this does not bode well for me. . .

And you know what?

I was absolutely right.

Signs Your Life is Noticeably Depressing and You Need an Intervention or Oprah or Something

My family friend helpfully forwarded this to me yesterday:

Netflix and Drinks


She said it popped up in her sidebar and she immediately thought of me. How’s that for infamy?

She also said, “here you go, it’s all thought out for you!”. Little does she know I don’t have to think of a drink, I have a go-to already — it’s called a bottle of whatever  happens to be lying around.

And a straw if I’m feeling fancy.


I Know What You’re All Thinking, and I’m Seething and I’m Devastated, but I’m Working Through It

I’m holding up all right — for now. I just need some time.

It just feels like a personal affront, you know? Like, I know it isn’t, and it’s bigger than me and a lot of people are affected. But honestly, I almost feel like Anna singled me out and it’s like she doesn’t even care anymore. Like she’s more interested in shock than anything else.

And I used to like that about her, her willingness to test boundaries, but at this point I just think she’s gone too far. I’m still reeling.

I just. . . them. On the cover. Him. But especially her.

And if I’m feeling this way, I can’t even imagine how Victoria Beckham is feeling. Let’s all keep her in mind today.

When my issue comes, I may have to cover it over with a paper cover, like pervs used to do in the 40’s or whatever so they could read smutty magazines in public. That’s how strongly I feel about this. I don’t even want to look at it.

So, I’m not at all a religious person and in fact I’m pretty sure a Bible once fell off the podium just because I was standing near it. . .

But I cannot overstate how much I hope that just for today, Heaven and St. Peter are real and he has organized a picket line at the pearly gates just for Fred Phelps.

With all the angels holding signs filled with vitriolic phrases directed at him.

And Jesus will, like, totally exclude him and not even look in his direction.

I can only hope.

On a Scale of One to That New Cadillac Commercial. . .

How douchey is it that I brought a small grinder of Pink Himalyan Sea Salt to work with me today for my lunch?

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