Monday, October 14, 2019


True Fact #1 - Yes, we're going back to the great state of Washington in October, 2020 (unless they catch wind of this and ban us all from state line).

True Fact #2 - Some of you may have already heard of a date. If you have, it may be wrong. We wouldn't be us if we didn't royally fuck this up from the jump.

True Fact #3 - It took me and Snarkier Than You like 20 minutes to figure out how to log into Blogger, and another 20 minutes of us trying to remember how the fuck to do this. Thus, bare bones post, my lovely ladies. Also, wine.

Here is all the information we have at this point:

  • We will be landing in the beautiful state of Washington on Thursday, October 22nd. We will be leaving the state (unless forcibly removed earlier) on Monday, October 26th. 
  • We will not be staying in Forks. 
  • We're not sure yet where we'll be staying. 

Ladies (and perhaps the occasional gent) - this is in the VERY early stages of planning. We wish we could give you more, but we're getting older and we have to go bed soon. Consider this post a "To Be Continued". 

Our question to you -- WHO WANTS TO GO?? Please leave a comment if you're seriously interested in joining us. 

We know that some of you have been getting together in that area for years and that warms our cold, dark hearts. Also? Probably gonna need your help if you're willing to give it. 

We'll be in touch and feel free to share this post because we actually don't know how to anymore. 

Be safe. 

Jenny Jerkface, Snarkier Than You, and the rest of Twitarded. 

P.S. - Special, big huge thanks to Dangr Dafne. SERIOUSLY. She is as tenacious as she is absolutely amazing. 

Monday, November 17, 2014

I Think I Just Un-Imprinted.

Back in late 2008, I came across a copy of Entertainment Weekly with some guy on the cover. I didn't know who he was or what landed him there, but I knew he was damn easy on the eyes even with that popped collar and the big poofy hair. There was just something pleasantly unnerving about that gaze...

 First Sight. Well HELLOOOOOOOOOOOO there. You make me feel funny.

Since all know how I happily went down the rabbit hole, gleefully clapping my hands and  taking as many people along with me as possible. These days - honestly? I don't give it all much thought. Don't get me wrong: it was a super-special, remarkably amazing time in my life and I am always thankful for everything that came out if it. THAT I think of often. I regret [almost] nothing. And I'm going to come right out and say (as if you all didn't already know...) that there's been a lot - a LOT - of blatant, shameless objectification over the years. We've written countless words about this man's hands, his fingers, his eyes, his mouth, his abs (or lack thereof - we didn't even care that they were mostly only there through the grace of a makeup artist), and his general hotness. But perhaps more than anything, we fixated on his hair. That HAIR!

OK, maybe not more than his smexy-times stare, but that mane of hair was a BIG part of the package.

We liked it in Twilight...

...and when he was promoting Twilight...

Rome Rob was nearly the death of me!

Yeah, I know he was under some contractual obligation or something to not cut it all off at this point and I DON'T CARE! Viva la lawyers and whoever else made this possible!

And when he finally did THIS -

...somehow we survived. Because let's face it: while I would have happily glued every strand back on - individually! - if given the chance, he was still blazingly hot and there's plenty of room in fanfic for stubble.

Long, short, in between - it. didn't. matter. 

 Kinda short? Woo hoo!

 Long enough to make me want to tug it? Yes please!

 Running his hands through it constantly? ;jbvuhsgs;esr;jbhfd...

We even kept a stiff upper lip and dealt with hats and beanies and various hoods and headgear. 

 ...although I did pout when he showed up at the Times Talk we attended covering up that mane.

In short (well, not so short, but admit it - you liked looking at all those photos),  the man has always had good hair.

So the other day when Latchkey Wife sent me a link that had the words  "so wtf is up with robert pattinsons hair" in it, I was...concerned. I clicked tentatively, hoping for the best. I mean, how bad could it be??? IT WAS WORSE.

Well this is odd but ooookaaaay...

Wait--what the...?!


what. the. actual. fuck. Did he lose a bet??? WHY is he lady-scaping the back of his head?! Is his hairstylist secretly VERY HARDCORE Team Jacob and still incredibly bitter? Did his girlfriend issue some sort of "I will if you will" ultimatum and this was his clever way of complying? Does he not know that whoever gave him this bowl cut (and I assume they have since went into hiding) left a patch? As if the "bowl & buzz" wasn't enough?. Whatever - I DON'T LIKE IT. I would prefer that fucked up thing he had on his head at ComicCon that one year, even if it had nothing to  do with a movie role.

Even this is better. THIS.
I think something in me died a little when I saw these pics, or maybe was finally brought back down to Earth. I don't know why it irked me so much; I acknowledge that it's strange that I would give a crap or have an opinion in the first place. OK, actually, I kinda DO know why it made me rant: I am not bothered that he cut his hair; I am bothered that he is someone who would cut his hair like THAT. I'm bothered because I don't think I would like someone who thought this haircut was a good idea. There. I said it. So congratulations, Robert Pattinson, on FINALLY coming up with a way to get at least one of the middle-aged weirdos who was inexplicably spellbound by you to throw up her hands in bewilderment.


 *ahem* I will, of course, allow myself some fond reminiscing...

So what do YOU think??? Lay it on me in the comments, people.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Coconut Oil is the New Black

Hello, ladies (and the occasional gent)! You're all looking lovely this evening. I  thought it was high time we do another beauty post. I haven't been seventeen in...a while and my body is none too pleased with it. Long gone are the days where I could eat Taco Bell without grave repercussions. My knees and ankles are better weather forecasters than a meteorologist. Welcome to a world where you can throw out you back opening a jar of applesauce. Thinking about collapsing into bed without removing my makeup? Better be prepared to have a face transplant in the morning. I have vague memories of some decrepit old people trying to warn me about this when I was a nubile young thing. It's worth noting that I am now older than those decrepit old people. But I digress...

Some time ago, I fell down the rabbit hole of Pinterest. I have a touch of CDO it's like OCD, but with the letters in alphabetical order as God intended. I mean, this website is basically the internet sorted into an orderly fashion. How is that not the best thing ever? Like a veritable Ponce de Leon, I've been scouring the web for the Fountain of Youth. My face has been looking older and more tired lately, and I refuse to accept that it's because I'm older and more tired. I've seen quite a few articles and blog posts extoling the virtues of coconut oil as a cleanser. This defies all logic since I'm trying to REMOVE the oil from my face. Well, I got desperate enough to try it, and I fully expected to have to call in the crew who cleaned up after the Exxon Valdez spill to mop up my skin.

SPOILER ALERT: Nothing but good things happened. All I did was smear it on my skin and wipe it off with a damp cloth. That's it. BAM. I've always had these little bumpy things on my face (probably not the dermatological term) that I'm sure no one else can see, but I've spent a lot of time and money trying to exfoliate them out of existence. After one time of using the oil, they were gone. Apparently all I needed to do was fill up my pores with good oil and my problem was solved. My skin tone has evened out. I thought I had rosacea for the longest time (Thanks, drug company commercials.), but now my skin is just a vampirac white. I have had ZERO breakouts, which is a damn miracle all by itself. Can I just take a moment to say how unfair it is to battle wrinkles AND acne at the same time? Pick a struggle, skin.

I really don't know what to do with myself since my skin maintenance routine has gone from six steps down to one. I'm recommending it to all of my friends and neighbors. Most of them have been receptive, but are few were all "How did you get in my house again? I thought I changed the locks." It might be overly dramatic to call this a miracle cure, but I can tell you five cents worth of coconut oil has replaced eye makeup remover, cleanser, exfoliant, a mask, moisturizer, and eye cream. I might try filling the swimming pool with it next, Cocoon style.

Has anyone else tried this, or anything similar?

Thursday, July 24, 2014

So We Have a Group Date Next Valentine's Day, AMIRIGHT???

It's a good thing that Mr. Snarky and I don't go all nuts celebrating Valentine's Day (too many years in the restaurant biz, among other things? Eh - we're not all that romantic...), because I know exactly where I plan on spending V-Day 2015:

To be honest, my feelings on this whole FSoG movie thing generally range from ambivalent to apathetic (I had zero thoughts on casting before the fact - aside from the impossible obvious; I was "meh" on their choices after...), but I have to admit that Jamie Dornan has a happenin' smexy-times stare. UNF. Also? RRoP FTMFW!

I will NOT go stand for hours on a sidewalk in NYC to see this opening night. BUT, I would totally be down with filling a small-ish theater (preferably one within cab distance that serves booze) with like-minded Twitards for one night... Will you be my Valentine?

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Consequence of Miracles

Do you guys read Twilight fan fiction anymore? Because I don't (confession: I never read a lot of fic in the first place, if you can believe that). But that said, that purveyor of all things worthy in the fandom, LeJadaLulu was going insane for a fic a month or so ago and I couldn't help but notice. Not when all my other fandom folks on Twitter were going insane for it. Finally, my curiosity got the best of me and I'm telling you guys, I devoured this fic. Couldn't wait for updates, would drop everything to read them. You're lucky - I'm not even telling you about this until now, when it's complete!

Consequence of Miracles is an angsty read but not traumatic, in that it's not graphic in any way and it's not gratuitous, if you know what I mean. It does tackle a Very Difficult Subject, and let me tell you, this would be the last thing I'd ever put on my TBR list, knowing what it was about but not knowing the story itself. I like reading happy shit, not dramatic stories. But it was handled incredibly well, and the story is actually told through Bella's eyes and manages to be her story, even though the dark, difficult stuff happens to Edward (I'm trying to not be spoiler-y, but give fair warning that the story could possibly be a trigger for some folks). If you're looking for a different kind of Twilight fic, or are just curious, I encourage you to take a look. I feel like it was an incredibly sensitive and hopeful treatment of a painful subject and I've never read a fic quite like it. I even legitimately cried after one chapter and I don't think I've ever done that reading a fic!

Speaking of minor miracles, guess what? I HAVE AN AGENT, YOU GUYS. I wrote something that isn't fic!

It's called LOUD IS HOW I LOVE YOU and it's a smutty, funny romance about indie rock kids in the 90s. I sent it out to a bunch of agents and snagged representation by Brooks Sherman at the Bent Agency and I couldn't be more excited. And nauseated. For a moment, just imagine me having a conversation with this nice man, a literary agent, who is quite lovely but still mostly a perfect stranger, about the possibility of pitching a follow-up book with three-way sex in it. This is my life now. And while it's awkward, it also happens to be awesome.

Anyway, LOUD is out on submission with some publishers and now I wait to see if anyone wants to actually buy it and publish it, so my smutty words can be out there in the actual world.


Or, maybe more appropriate in this circumstance: Jesus MotherFucking Hamster Fucker.

My new pen name is Mercy Brown. I picked it because I wanted something that would be a statement about where I come from as a writer, and that's right here with all of you. Plus, Mercy is just sexier than Mygdala (but you guys, please keep calling me Myg or I will be totally confused).

And, I've never been good at ending blog posts.

The End.

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

We're Getting the Band Back Together.

Are you there, blog? It's me, Snarkier Than You...

I've been fixin' to post something here since about three days after my last post (give or take), which means that even by my mighty Herculean abilities to procrastinate like no other human on the planet, this has been a long time coming. I've spent an enormous amount of time since we stopped posting thinking about what to write and how to write it. I still have notes - reasonably handy - for the review of Breaking Dawn II that we never did, among other things, but after so much time had passed my brain always circled back to "Welp, you blew it and it's too late now."

I feel like there was an epic fail in not giving this blog a proper sendoff that would have reflected the love and meaning that we put into it and got out of it over the years, and that's mostly what's kept me from writing anything at all. Because it deserved a full-on party with a 21-gun salute, a brass band, possibly fire and dragon eggs, and we gave you something more in line with an unceremonious backyard burial of a hamster in a shoebox or the flushing a goldfish... Perhaps even worse - we just let it peter out. Anyway, you deserved better. I know that. But you knew that we were the slowest and most unreliable bloggers when you started hanging out with us, remember? The Twi-blogger equivalent of the irresistible "bad boy with a heart of gold"??? Or something like that? Maybe? *wink-wink*

I think at some point it seemed like there was no way I could just sneak back in and write something - anything - to fill the space; it would have needed to be AWESOME. Hopefully you have figured out at this point that I am keeping expectations suitably low. My drafts over the years for writing this look like the beginning of Eclipse, only more contrite and without the cutesy font -

Dean Twitards, I'm sorry...

We suck...what did you expect?!

Fuck this shit I don't know how to do this anymore...

At some point, I realized that part of the problem was that I wasn't willing to pen a farewell because I refuse to let it be over and done. But I also realized something else somewhere along the way: it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if I couldn't (or didn't) produce some epic send-off or reintroduction or whatever I am considering this whole thing at this point. It doesn't matter if this is not the best thing I have ever written or the worst or even if there is nobody out there left to read it. I need this. I miss this. This is my outlet. The gaping hole in my heart? Yeah ok I know you all see what I am doing here... Let's say it's a small tear - not so much a gaping hole as a yearning and a small-ish but very persistent and troublesome spot that will. not. be. ignored. Thinking about writing here has been with me like an iffy tooth that you try to pretend isn't bothering you but that your tongue seems to gravitate towards and worry despite your best efforts to do anything else.

I know that the community has evolved and moved on, but Twitarded has always felt like home to me, and dammit, I'm staying even if it doesn't really make much sense at all (and very possibly dragging Jenny Jerkface, Latchkey Wife, and Myg along with me if I can talk them into it for some not-regularly-scheduled posts about who knows what). I'm rusty and can't promise anything will be particularly entertaining... But before I think about it too much and wait another couple of years before releasing the finger that is twitching tentatively over the "Publish" button, I'd better PTMFS.

P.S. Speaking of comebacks, Hellllllooooooooooooooooooo there, Cannes Rob!

I missed you, too...

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Beautiful Bastard is out today!

Cross-posted at Blogwaffles, too!

Guess what's out in stores today, people?
WTF is he doing with his sleeve and why can't I stop staring at it? Because UNGF.
That's right, the original Ficward, Beautiful Bastard, is here! In a real, live legal book that you can go buy and hold in your hands and everything! In fact, you should go buy it right now!

Or, walk right into your local book store and buy it there!

Seriously, folks, back in 2010 when I first got to the Twilight fandom, I never would have fathomed the day when all these fan fiction stories would be making actual paid writers out of fic authors. But it happened. Boy, did it happen. And now, here we are with our very own Beautiful Bastard out in stores today.

I think many of you reading this have read the original fic The Office by Tby789, back when it was around. For those of you who haven't read it and are curious about Beautiful Bastard, I can sum it up like this:

A strong young woman works for a gorgeous asshole at a big corporate firm. They can't stand each other, but they are desperately attracted to one another. A lot of fucking happens, but not just your run-of-the-mill wanky, boring amateurish fucking. Oh no, no, no.

Think of it this way--have you ever been super pissed off at your significant other, and then you get into a wicked argument and in the  middle of it think, "God damn, he (or she, as the case may be,) is so hot when he's angry?" And then you end up having sex on the kitchen table, in spite of how pissed off you are? And then when it's over, you're all, "Damn, I can't believe I just had sex with you, you bastard--I'm still pissed off that you put the potato masher in the wrong drawer. You don't live here all by yourself, you know."

Wait, that doesn't happen to you? It's just me? Hmm.

Well, it doesn't matter, because Beautiful Bastard is much hotter than that, and there are no potato mashers involved. Anywhere.
potatoe masher
This object does not appear anywhere in Beautiful Bastard.

Lots of writers write sex scenes. Fic writers write lemons. We all love a good lemon, right? Well, the thing that made Christina and Lauren such well-loved authors of fic is that those two can REALLY write sex scenes. And believe it or not, all that fantasy-indulging sex has a purpose--a point. Not just to titillate you, dear readers. There's a story here, between two strong-willed characters who find each other, fuck each other, and come to love each other in spite of themselves. But this ain't no schmaltzy two-bit romance, either. It's smart. It's funny. It indulges all the right emotional fantasies as well as the sexual ones. It's tongue-in-cheek, and it's tongue in other better places as well.

What I'm saying is, it's all that and a trip to the La Perla dressing room.

For those of you who have read The Office, let me tell you, Beautiful Bastard does a masterful job of keeping the spirit of The Office alive and well, yet it also updates and polishes it in ways that you'll definitely appreciate. It's been revised so there are plenty of new things to discover. The writing is as smart as ever and it's still funny. There are parts of this where you're going to literally LOL right before you gasp at how smutty something is, so don't read it at work. Okay, you can read it at work if you work from home or in the adult industry.

But trust me when I say, you will want to read it. Over and over again.

Tell me in the comments, did you order your copy of Beautiful Bastard yet? Did you read it? What other fic-turned-books have you read? What are you hoping makes the leap next?

Talk to me, people.