Miss Snarky Pants was a girl who never had an imaginary friend because all the imaginary friends had nice, proper children to play with – not nerdy, taller-than-average blabbermouths who were afraid to remove Ken’s (the doll, pervs) swimming trunks because they thought they’d go straight to Hell. She used to love Jesus – until she found out that he was cheating on her with 2.1 billion other people. After enduring years of parochial schooling and smocked, Polly Flinders’ dresses, Miss Snarky Pants grew into a nerdy, taller-than-average blabbermouth who became an attorney because she heard there was no math on the LSAT.
This is also the blog formerly known as Paltry Meanderings of a Taller Than Average Woman. Clearly, Miss Snarky Pants didn’t spend much time thinking about her blog name when she first began blogging or she would have come up with one that people could remember.
In this blog, she blathers on about things that many people, given the chance and sufficient alcohol, also enjoy blathering on about. Except she’s not drunk, no matter what she says. She just wants to be one of the cool kids. As long as the cool kids are liberals. Or bad conservatives. Yeah, if you’re one of those people who read The Borowitz Report for all the news, you should probably forget everything you’ve read thus far and just move along. Nothing to see here.
Worst of all, her photo looks like a cartoon Olan Mills portrait. I mean, the “resting your cheek on your hand” pose in front of a library setting? Has anyone done that since since circa 1982? Clearly, Miss Snarky Pants was never a supermodel. Ugh, what’s next? A Warhol-esque quadrant of neon snark? Worst of all, talking about herself in third person on her About page makes her absolutely insufferable. Kill her now.
Carry on. There’s much more to learn. That whole killing thing was metaphorical. Take a turn in the Archives. Miss Snarky Pants offers you stories of her frequent and lifelong humiliations because being self-deprecating makes her seem likable and modest. And, apparently, people find her pain hilarious. There’s absolutely no accounting for taste, anymore.
And do Follow. Why wander lost in the maze of blogging narcissists when you can Follow Miss Snarky Pants, exit the maze, and have a cocktail and a laugh? Isn’t that better than camping out in the middle of a maze all night?