Category: Life

…And Then I Bought Something.

Stefanie Snider

A friend of mine linked me to this article on Cracked:5 People on Etsy Who Are Clearly Serial Killers. It features some…questionable objects: dead animal faces. Teeth from an asylum. A jar covered in what the seller insists is human flesh.

I read the article. I cringed. I laughed. And then I bought something.

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She’s photographed, according to Pamela Klaffke, the photographer, “with a holga cfn 120mm toy camera, using expired film”.

She’s a little eerie, but I love her. (Or maybe that’s WHY I love her?) There’s a certain dreamy quality to the print, an almost-Instagram-except-way-better distortion. She struck me when I saw her, and I had to have her.

I have a feeling, though, that she might be coming to live in my office with me. The office is where C makes me house all the weird shit he doesn’t like looking at (though why he doesn’t want anatomical drawings and stuffed elk heads* wearing tiaras in the rest of the house is beyond me).

Go check out the other critters in Klaffke’s collection (because, seriously, who doesn’t need a scary Hanukkah fox child in their lives? Or click here for the rest of the Cracked article.

(screen grab via Cracked, photo featured copyright Pamela Klaffke)

*(Relax, vegans: this is the head in question.)

Murder Nails

Stefanie Snider

I tore his flesh, gouging out the tenderest meat with my nails, fingers aching with the effort. It was a harder go than I expected; humans, it turns out, aren’t made for ripping each other apart. Not with bare hands. But needs must, and I was so hungry…

bloody fingernails

Or, y’know…I’m just exceptionally bad at applying nail polish with my left hand. Whatever.

Colour is Sally Hansen’s Flirt, gory text is a possible story opening. Yes? No? We shall see.

(And yes, I cleaned it up after. And, also? You know when you write the same word too many times, and it stops making sense as a word and starts to look like gibberish? I’ve looked at this picture for too long, and my hand is starting to look all fucked up. I hope that’s just me. I have normal hands, promise.)

The Further Domestication of One Mrs. Snider

Stefanie Snider

I was baking cookies last night (because yesterday was Saturday and Saturdays are for baking) and managed to spill cinnamon everywhere, including all over my pants. Sexy. I figured it’s about time I do something about this whole wearing-what-I’m-cooking thing.

I just bought the most adorable apron:

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Look at how cute that is! I’m 100% certain it will make my already-stellar baking taste even better. I mean, seriously. How could it not?

(photo belongs to Etsy seller Boojiboo, who stocks the cutest vintage-inspired aprons I have ever seen, including this horror movie piece.)

PS – Honourable mention goes to @falconjockey on Twitter for suggesting a Darth Vader apron, though my tastes run a little more to Fifties Housewife than Dark Space Lord.

I Love the Nightlife

Stefanie Snider

I’m on nights again! I haven’t worked this shift in a year, maybe two, and I’d forgotten how good it was.

The work bit…well, I don’t talk about work here. Use your imagination for that part.

But the rest of it is magic. I’m at my best late at night, when everyone sensible is tucked into their beds asleep. The roads on my way home are empty, my street is dark, and I have the run of the house. I’m full of energy at night: something about the dark brings out my best and before you know it I’m cleaning the whole house. I’ve knit a ton, I’ve fleshed out a story, I’ve reworked our budget.

I feel great.

Maybe all those vampire stories had something to them. Maybe it’s not the blood that had those creatures slinking out into the darkness, but the darkness itself that made them thrive. There’s just a different feeling about the world at 3 AM that you can’t find anywhere else. I’ve missed it, but I’m so glad to be back.

Resolutions. Or Not.

Stefanie Snider

I’ve been thinking about resolutions all day (which is to say on commercial breaks and while driving to Chapters only to find that THE INTERNET LIED and they weren’t open after all, dammit). I feel like this is a big year, for some reason, Mayan bullshit excepted.

So, some things:

I want to waste less: time, energy, money, mental space taken up by stupid shit that doesn’t matter.

I want to make more: to write and publish more, finish up some knitting projects, and bake every week.

I want to read more: I thought about setting a “goal” number, 52 books this year? 100? but that takes the joy out of reading. So, just more.

I want to strengthen my relationships with the people who matter most to me, and to let go of those who suck the life out of me.

I don’t know if these are resolutions, in the traditional New Year’s sense, because they’re all things I’ve been working on lately anyway. But at the same time, these are all important to me, and sharpening my focus on them only helps me get where I want to be. So, there you have it.

What are your goals this year?

Post-Christmas Reveal!

Stefanie Snider

I hope you all had a fantastic winter holiday of your choosing.

Us Sniders (past, present, and honorary) gathered at my in-laws’ yesterday for Christmas dinner. C and I brought gifts for the kids — “kids” in this sense including his 15-year-old little sister. Which worked out well, considering that when I saw a certain pattern I knew I had to knit it for her.

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She’s a Harry Potter nut — she knows everything, and I mean everything about the series. Her favourite House is Gryffindor, hence the colours. But she’s not 100% pro-good-guy: she mentioned a while ago that she wanted a Dark Mark tattoo.

Which brings us to the best part:

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Illusion knitting uses strategic knits and purls to create peaks and valleys that, when viewed on an angle, reveal a picture. It was a ton of fun to knit, and I think she really liked it (“You could knit for me next Christmas” is probably the most enthusiasm you’ll get from a teenager).

The pattern information is here; it’s free with a free Ravelry membership. If you make one, let me know! I’d love to see other versions.

Oh, and of course I made my father-in-law’s favourite ginger-molasses cookies, because there is nothing worse than seeing a grown man cry.

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Have a great day everyone!

Happy Festivus!

Stefanie Snider

Tonight I attended my first Festivus party. We feasted upon tacos, spaghetti, and chicken wings; we drowned our grievances in margaritas. There was a pole, of course, drug out of our co-host’s backyard (he assured me it hadn’t been supporting anything, but really…who has a pile of aluminum poles just “laying around”?). We played a rousing game of Cards Against Humanity, though sadly C and I had to leave before the Feats of Strength.

We were given a wonderful parting gift, though:

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(PS – the party was given by a friend’s girlfriend, who has quite possibly the dreamiest horror apartment EVER. Life-sized Pinhead, signed Friday the 13th poster… She had a death mask of Vincent Price! I wanted to steal everything.)

Fuck Cancer.

Stefanie Snider

Someone I grew up with is dealing with cancer. A brain tumor. We were best friends, before life and circumstance caused us to drift, and she’s a good person. She doesn’t “deserve” this. (Not that anyone does.) She’s lovely, and kind, and sweet, and her tumor is growing again.

I am so fucking angry right now.

She’s missed out on so much — her own wedding, for Christ’s sake — and she’s only 30 and she’s having to deal with all of this. Her family is having to deal with it.

What the fuck have I been doing, sitting here worried about my own small shit, when nothing that I worry about even matters. Who the fuck am I to think my shit is important when I have my health and my family and those two things are all that anyone could ask for.

It makes me rage, and I have nothing to rage against. I’m crying, but crying won’t help.

She’s the… fifth? person in my personal life to have tangoed with that motherfucker. Five. More, if you count people I know once-removed. So many more. And where are the answers? Where is the end? Why the hell is such a beautiful person being attacked by a monster so horrible most of us don’t even speak its name aloud? What the hell is wrong with us, that we haven’t cured this yet?

I don’t fucking dare feel sorry for myself. I have so much to be grateful for.

SniderWriter Turns One!

Stefanie Snider

A year ago today I started this blog.

It’s been a blast! I never thought I’d be a blogger; I didn’t think I had much to talk about. 348 posts and counting has taught me differently. I’ve connected with so many of you over the past year (and if you’re lurking, speak up! I’d love to get to know you!)

My favourite part of writing a blog is all the things I get to learn and see — since I’m always looking for material to post I get to trawl all kinds of websites I might not have come across otherwise. I get to learn about all kinds of weird shit. And some of you have found me in strange ways, too, like the following searches that brought you here:

“witch to do list”
“see i’m pretty”
“headgear 2012”
“different types of cursive”
“shower sexy”
“disgusting images of sugar”
“breaking up jokes”
“fun marriage” (awww)

and my all-time favourite: “how can i get my kids to leave there coats zipped up”. Because apparently someone out there desires parenting advice from the sweary horror lady.

I’ve covered health, politics, film, and DIY. Together we’ve learned about eyeball tattoos and lobotomies and horrible things that lurk in the sea.

And of course, along the way, I hope I’ve scared the crap out of you.

So this chilly December night I raise my glass (which may or may not contain more rum than eggnog) and toast to another year of fun, and weirdness, and fear. And I toast to you, because knowing you’re out there is what makes this so much fun. So thanks!

That Whole “Balance” Thing

Stefanie Snider

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Here we go again.

I haven’t written anything in a few days. Scratch that, it might be approaching two weeks at this point. Two weeks without fiction or journalling. Two weeks of barely even maintaining my planner. Two weeks may not seem like much, but two whole weeks without creating anything is like drowning. Not only does it feel awful, but with every day that slips by it gets harder and harder to get started again.

It’s not even a block, not really. It’s… an absence. Whole days pass without even the inkling to pick up a pen or to open a text program.

Bizarrely, I’ve been super productive lately in other areas. I’ve been baking up a storm, knitting a very secret Christmas gift, deep cleaning and streamlining the house. But the more I seem to get done in my day-to-day life, the more it seems my career is suffering. It’s completely unacceptable.

I’ve decided that enough is enough. One whole year of my five-year career plan has slipped by, and I’m not where I thought I would be. I’m not where I need to be. But today starts a new month. I’m considering December a practice run before the new year kicks in.

In four years I don’t want to look back and realize I let myself down.

This is it.

(photo by Colin Harris)