08
Mar 10

all good things

must come to and end.

i never wanted to believe that dreary saying, but for me, it has been true more than once. after 2 years, me & the bf called it quits. ripped off the ol’ band-aid. some of you know, many of you have always suspected, the circumstances under which me met, were always questionable at best (and that is all i am going to say about it. so tawk amongst yourselves). and as a result, i have been breaking up with him ever since we started dating. we always acknowledged it and talked about that a lot. in fact, i can think of at least 3 major attempts, in addition to numerous non-major attempts, prior to this that never stuck. the reality of an eventual end has hung over us like a dark cloud since the beginning, but we kept ignoring it; not because we hoped the rain would never come, but because the rest of the sky was so sunny & blue that we just wanted enjoy the perfect weather as long as we could (great, now i am fucking al roker with the endless weather metaphors). but it’s different this time. we both know, it’s really over. we clearly want different things for our futures. and i would like to tell you that “we can still be friends,” but i have never done that with any ex particularly well (hence, the 21 month divorce) and i am not sure it will be appropriate in our set of constraints.

like any woman “scorned,” i would love to tell you what an asshole he is, but he’s not. oh sure, there are the questionable circumstances on both ends, but the truth is, he played a crucial role in my life at a time when i needed someone most. he has been with me through the lowest times in my life – said protracted, painful divorce (that is most likely still far from over) and the sudden death of my beloved father. he has been my friend, my coach, legal adviser, personal chef, media guru, escape, nurse, confidante, comedic relief, grief counselor, music selector, personal minstrel, cheerleader, housekeeper, editorial consultant, web designer, collaborative writer, partner in crime, travel agent, “de-briefer,” and lover (and a fabulous one at that). he has worn many hats on our adventure, but never the ass hat. he has seen me at my worst far more than my best and always loved me unconditionally. in this short time we have been together, he has known me better than anyone else has. he has managed to lovingly call me on my shit and help me to see things more clearly. he is the only man who ever really “got” me and loved every bit of what made me, me. he restored my faith in relationships & family and gave me a chance to experience a little bit of  “normal.” he always joked that the next guy would be the benefactor of all of his “training.” it has been a wild, wonderful ride that i always knew would have an end. i could devote an entire blog just to all of the crazy shit we have been through these past 2 years (i did actually start a book awhile ago). it would have been absolutely wonderful if our paths had crossed at different times in our lives. and despite my profound lack of spirituality, i like to believe the universe had it’s reasons for us to find each other (via a very circuitous, non-traditional route), even though we will ultimately not end up together. despite the abrupt, unfortunate way things ended, i have fond memories, no regrets, and will always have that cliched special place in my heart for him.

it’s really not the break-up that hurts so much, because we both know it really has been a long time coming. it’s the being let go of so easily. it’s being let go without a fight. it’s the realization that i found a way to repeat the pattern i already lived with asshat – not being someone’s priority. not being worth fighting for. settling for less than i deserve. being right about something about which i would have preferred to be wrong. and being terrified that i will continue the pattern over and over again. and there’s the other things that remind you you’re alone now: the quiet, lonely, textless phone. the habit of picking up the phone to text or call someone you have been in contact with for 500 times a day for 2 years, and then stopping yourself.  missing the constant companionship technology allowed. the silly cork collection with notes of special occasions on each one (it’s large collection. we drank a lot). the card from the flowers sent on the one year anniversary of my father’s death. finding his shirt in my laundry and not being sure what to do with it. seeing the book he loaned me that i probably won’t finish. the card i got him that i never filled out. the necklace he gave me that i wore every day that i can’t wear anymore. not getting the good morning & good night texts. but it’s okay because i now stand on the verge of a new life and a fresh start. in the cradle of his love, i gained courage and strength. and it is because of him, i am now ready to stand on my own 2 feet.

in a lot of ways, the bf was a crutch to me. i was healed long ago, but afraid to take those first steps without him.  and now without the comfort of him by my side, i feel naked and exposed to the world without any protection. and “false bravado” be damned, i actually feel more empowered than ever.  i know the rest of this journey is mine to face alone and i do so willingly. plus now i may finally lose that “relationship paunch.”

and so, another chapter of my life has ended. but it’s just a gateway to the next one. thanks for everything, bf. i do hope you find all the happiness in this life we all deserve.

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24
Feb 10

the trophy wife

so, i got a new cell last week because a certain asshat that lives in this house with me, who shall remain nameless, spilled water on my old one. but, swv, you say, “surely it was an accident. why would someone do such a nasty thing?” to which swv replies, “oh no, dear friends, i assure you, it was no accident. i spied the alleged crime being committed out of the corner of my little eye.” i got cocky and was silly enough  to try to live like a free person in my own home and left the phone unattended during the kitchen webcast for nary a moment, when i heard water being poured and turned my head in time to witness the murder of my beloved phone. we had a lot of good times together, that phone and i. oh the stories it could tell about the b part of gggb. sigh. anyway, you know, its not like i haven’t fantasized about the destruction of the hat’s personal property myself. a nasty divorce makes petty bedfellows when you are forced to live together for oh, approximately 21 looonnng months now (not that i am counting). i would just love to accidentally pour orange juice on the webcam, accidentally run over his cell phone with my car, accidentally destroy his laptop with lemonade, but the difference is, I DON’T. why don’t i? because i am what is known as an adult. not a bratty 39 year old child in a grown up body. because i am not a vapid, petulant, spoiled frat boy pulling pranks on my buds at the house. besides, can you imagine the barrage of whiny letters i would get from plaintiff’s of counsel, Mr. Spitty, to cease and desist? and the kicker is, that puppy was up for a 100 clam upgrade next month anyway. hmm, i wonder if i should just submit my receipts directly on the blog. okay, digression complete: i tell you about the phone because it struck me that getting a new phone or any new piece of technology is much like starting a new relationship.

one day it’s close to the date of your 2 year anniversary upgrade and you wake up and see the phone you have through different eyes. less starstruck eyes. it has lost it’s shine. it was great at first when you were both so in synch. but little by little you started to grow apart. she doesn’t look as good as she used to. the thrill is gone and you start to wonder what else is out there while you two have been cocooning at home for 2 years in a haze of texts and vodka. one day you secretly look at online phone sites. phone porn. you forget to erase the browser history and the breakup is inevitable. before you realize it, you find yourself in the market for a new phone. at first you are just discretely looking at your friends’ phones. what do they have that you don’t that makes them so happy? then you go out & start shopping around a bit. you find yourself at the verizon store alone or with a friend for support. you are at the singles’ bar of phones, and when you first walk in it’s so full of promise. it’s a meat market with so many possibilities that you can’t believe what you have been missing all of this time. you had an idea what was out there, but not like this. which phone will you will leave with tonight? they are all so beautiful. so many new & exciting features in so many different models. but you better find a phone before that scene gets old. still, you imagine all the things you will do together with your new phone. you will text without limits, finally use the email feature, use the internet, go on dates with  your fav 5 & their phones. you will always be together & take her everywhere. finally after what seems like so much looking, you find the one. your search is finally over you are ready to commit. you can’t wait to bring her home to show her off to your friends and family. brag on her and all the amazing features she has that your last phone didn’t. you smugly ask your pals, “do your phones do that?” it’s a new relationship just bursting with infinite futures, and you are happy and in love all over again. it’s perfect & exactly what you dreamed of. all the qualities in a phone you always wanted that your others didn’t have. she gets you, man.

the relationship progresses slowly at first. and as you unwrap her gingerly from the box, you promise her & yourself: it will be different this time, baby. i won’t ever drop you. i will never leave you unprotected. i won’t let anyone touch you. i will get you insurance. you want a cover, a 50 dollar bundle, extra battery? you got it. anything for you. i will never turn my back on you. i will always keep you close to me in your special compartment in my purse. you will never get wet (not like my last 4 phones). i swear. i will treat you right baby. with respect. i definitely won’t lose you at least once every day, uh uh. i will never overcharge your battery. what? what’s that i am shoving in the back of my drawer? pay no attention – its just a cell phone graveyard with various crumpled manuals and outdated chargers. i don’t care about them anymore. i promise to get rid of all of them. i will only read your manual, baby. it’s just you & me now. you will never end up there baby, you’re different, you’re special. and so it goes. you are pretty sure you are made for each other but you still have 30 days to be positive. you can still back out and return to your old phone if no one has snatched her up yet after you dumped her in that recycle bin. if she will have you again. she loved you once. maybe she can again. she wasn’t that bad really…

as you get more comfortable with each other over the next week, your new phone slowly reveals herself. one by one the protective plastic coverings come off. slowly at first, but then you just rip the rest off until she is totally naked. vulnerable and completely trusting you not to hurt her. sending that first text is like deflowering a virgin. “you’ll be gentle, right?  you promise not to scratch my display baby? you won’t get greasy fingerprints all over my shiney parts? i am not wearing any case today. you said you wouldn’t drop me. no, no don’t leave me here in the kitchen by the kids. i don’t like your kids very much and i hate your dog. you promised.” and it’s all so exciting, the discovery phase of the relationship. the falling in love. the software & layout are different than what you’re used to. the keys are bigger & softer to the touch. they are real. touching her even made you a bit nervous at first. she felt so different in your hands. it was a challenge to get her to open up, and teach you all her ways, but it was intoxicating. and as she reveals all of her functions, you learned exactly how to press her buttons to get the right result every time. and it is the heaven you imagined – she cuddles next to you every night and greets you with her gentle buzz every morning. you are a perfect match and for almost 2 years, it’s bliss until the contract nears it’s end and the new models come out…

when i had to pick my new phone i was overwhelmed – i clearly wasn’t ready to be out there yet. i looked over all the models at the store but didn’t take any home. i wasn’t ready to commit. it was so much pressure being out there. feeling so exposed. so i tried online dating, and after exploring a few possible matches, i ordered my new phone off the verizon website. ironically, i  chose the newest model of the phone i already had. it was just a younger, shiner, & better dressed version. the buttons were tight and unused. the were no scars on its body or display. it was just beautiful & perfect. so, in effect, i traded up for a trophy wife. i am sure we will be very happy together.

for 24 months.

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16
Feb 10

skip to my loo, my darlin’

so i just spent 2 days curled up in bed with a nasty stomach bug. and i wonder not from where i contracted the pest, but more so why it always strikes after i have eaten an unusually large 12 course meal mere hours before. it was sunday pig out day and i take that very seriously. my only saving grace was that the wee ones and i happened to be sleeping at my mom’s the night the virus attacked, which meant i had my mommy to take care of me. it was almost worth being sick, because during the marriage (a term which i use loosely), the hat normally left me for dead when i got sick. he was most likely too busy allegedly jacking off or allegedly toking up and lost track of time in a drug haze like those parents of the infant in trainspotters. but, i digress…

i find the suspense of the crippling nausea to be worse than the actual up-chucking, for awhile i beg my stomach to hold steady and then i do a 180 and beg to just get it over with because you really do feel better after the ol’ heave ho. it’s all about facing the fear for me. but then the suspense starts all over again for round 2. i always find an hour to be the magic amount of time. if i can just get  past an hour i will be fine. if i can just sleep. and why is it always in the middle of the night when these things happen? i always think, if i can make it through the night i will be fine. it will all be over when the sun shines. and it just blows my mind if i barf during the day.

so, while my partially digested meal proceeded to exit six times using all possible means of egress, and i was laying in the fetal position on the bathroom floor, i was thinking, “at least i’m losing weight.” never mind, the broken blood vessels all around my eyes, the dehydration, sallow skin, and relentless physical torture. naturally, i couldn’t wait to get on that scale when i was finally able to rise above a crawl position. and then the cruelest of all jokes: not one ounce lost. how is that possible? isn’t there an entire eating disorder based on this premise? what was i doing wrong?

but it was so nice to have mommy there to take care of me. she brought me water, flat coke, hot tea, held my hair back, & cleaned up after me like she used to when i was a kid. which means bad news for us mothers: it turns out no matter how old our kids get, we are never ever done cleaning up vomit & poo. well, you’re the best mom. and uh, thanks for the loaner undies, the reason which necessitated such, we have agreed never to speak of again…

on the second eve of the aftermath, i am still wiped out and i am finally just able to keep down water. my stomach is still gurgling incessantly and i am in fear of a full relapse. then there is also the worry about the rest of the household being struck down with the same merciless ailment. how many days is it until you can be sure it’s icy grip has passed like the angel of death on pessach? is there some pagan offering to be left for it to skip your children? can i smear lamb’s blood on my door?

i have a friend who lives in fear of stomach viruses and will quarantine you at the mere mention of “throw-up.” her children are interrogated every day after they get home, with, “did anyone throw up at school today? did anyone say they were nauseous? did anyone mention being around anybody who was sick? did anyone go to the nurse? was any sawdust spread on the floor of any room by yours? no? fine. go wash your hands before you touch anything!” her mother once sent back 52 bags of groceries because the cashier mentioned she felt nauseous at the end of the transaction. so, it would seem my pal does come by it honestly, and in following parental suit, she has a complicated formula by which she figures out the square root of the hypotenuse of how many days from initial exposure until infectious danger has passed and she will agree to meet you out in public. the time frame for when you are allowed back into her home or vice verse is an entirely other much longer formula which is proprietary and usually works out to be a minimum of 6 weeks. mind you she is no math whiz, but she has a ph.d in barf. she claims it’s because she can’t stand to see her children suffer. i say it’s more to do with cleaning the carpet. oh, wait, that’s me.

please, don’t get me wrong, i hate to ever see my girls in any discomfort, but i was quite thrilled when they learned how to make it to the bathroom on time or at least aim successfully into the bedside bucket. i have a weak stomach & overactive gag reflex which makes cleaning up vomit more difficult for me than your average bear. i once came very close to barfing on my own baby at the sight of a diarrhea explosion up to her armpits. i had to strap her to the changing table & run to the toilet. so, it’s no surprise i have to talk myself down when i have to deal with puke. i repeat a mantra of, “grow up. deal. you are NOT going to throw up. keep it together, dammit.” only thing hat was ever minimally useful for was that particular clean-up detail. and when kids get sick, they always manage to sprinkle every piece of linen on the bed and projectile within a 5 mile radius. baby spit-up was bad enough & was generally controllable with my babies. but when they got bigger and  it turned into real vomit, i was done for. and don’t get me started on barfing in a moving vehicle. that strikes terror into my heart like nothing else. that is one scenario for which i am rarely prepared. the clean-up is monumental. you might as well total the car at that point. is there a vomit clause in auto insurance? there should be if not. i must ask that progressive chick.

then there is nothing quite like the test of a relationship when barf is introduced. does he run screaming or does he hold your hair back? does he barf along side you at the sight of vomit or does he want to rub your back and sleep next to you on the floor of the bathroom even though you protest pitifully? does he bring blankets into the bathroom for you while breaking & entering even though you tried to lock him out because it’s just too soon for him to see you this way & you are really embarrassed? cute bf saw me at my worst fairly early on and i knew if he didn’t bail then, there may be no getting rid of this guy! ;-)

anyway, that concludes my dissertation on vomtiology.  now, here i sit, sipping flat bourbonless coke, patiently waiting for a complete recovery. hoping i will be ready to face the world in 24 hours knowing the world has no idea what i just faced a mere 24 hours earlier. if i am lucky i will be able to have a cup of coffee with my friend in 8 weeks or so when she agrees to see me to celebrate the spring thaw…

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11
Feb 10

into the wild

valentine’s day came early for the gggb this year. the bf swept me away for a romantic getaway in upstate new york this past weekend. my live-in underage intel had alerted me a few weeks ago that i would have the weekend free, and as soon as i told that to the dreamy bff/bf, he sprung into action and made plans to take me away for a romantic weekend retreat. like most couples, we (and i mean he) planned our activities in advance. but there was a small caveat- no open containers on the premises. how could he book such a place? does he not know me at all? obviously it would be necessary to plan our activities & packing around undercover alcohol consumption. instead of a list of garments i needed to pack, i had a list of booze i needed to bring. i was shopping for hootch like Ben Sanderson in Leaving Las Vegas. cute bf had a fantasy about sipping hot toddies in front of a roaring fire, and i had a fantasy, well, just about drinking in general. and while he made all the important plans, i was charged with one thing: secure the proper containers for our liquid contraband. immediately it was clear what my mission was: i must find matching travel mugs & get them engraved to commemorate this auspicious occasion, what i called “jaycation 2010.”

when we pulled up to the front & the valet came to unload our car, he found the loose bottle of mixer rolling around the trunk. upon this discovery he remarked, “you know, i thought my grandfather was the only one who liked to drink plain seltzer.” “oh no. there’s a ton of us,” i chuckled. i was also now struggling with a heavy brown bag from which deep within clinking noises could be heard. he offered to place it on the luggage cart, with the “seltzer” but i politely declined – who knew how long it would be before our bags were to arrive at the room. not only did i need to make a drink pronto, but, i was avoiding a potential raid by the Monhonk Mountain House Security Corps.

so this place was  an extremely historic vacation destination built in the 1800’s and the stench of old people hits you the minute you walk into its hallowed halls. but it was really lovely and bf sprung for a tricked out room with a parlour (that’s fancy for sitting area) and a fireplace. the first thing you need to do when you get to a hotel after evaluating the quality of your room and deciding if trip advisor was accurate is to unpack all of your smuggled booze and fashion a proper bar. then quickly line up the 15 pairs of shoes you needed for 2 days, use all of the hangers in both closets, and fill up all of the drawers in the dresser, no matter how short your stay, before your companion has a chance to lay claim to any of it. upon carrying out that ancient ritual, i learned that i had brought far more lingerie than actual clothing. apparently i had some unconscious expectations on my mind when hunting and gathering my items for the trip. after you get all of your unmentionables stowed,  you are ready to venture out of the en suite to get the initial lay of the land. this is where you explore all the nooks & crannies of the lodgings and check out the 97 activities you promise yourselves you’re going to do in a day and a 1/2 . it was finally time to break out the matching travel mugs and embark upon our snowy adventure.

self service in room bar. note barware: matching engraved travel mugs.

after touring the art in the halls, historic photos in stairwells, the spa with an outdoor mineral pool (lovey for a romantic late night dip when it’s 8 below), the ice skating pavilion and, of course, the gift shop, we went back to our suite to relax. we indulged in the use of the fireplace before dinner which is when we learned the reason drinking in guest rooms is discouraged: supplying random people with their own wood & matches at a 240 year old mountain retreat made of wood itself is a recipe for disaster when you add alcohol to it. our fire was burning brilliantly, we were enjoying the whole snuggly time with wine by the firelight scene, when suddenly the smoke started pouring into the room. here is where romance meets real life: to fix the fire situation, bf starts crumpling his important business papers (which were removed from his briefcase earlier because we used it to smuggle in beer) as corrective kindling (he has mad fire skills even though he was never a boy scout). while he is burning the pensky file to fix the fire,  I am choking from smoke inhalation and fanning smoke away from the detector. he got it stabilized & under control and we didn’t need to call in the local  fire department but i was now perfumed with eau de smokey the bear for the “formal” dinner with no time for a shower.

the food is phat at this place. kind of like being on a cruise ship. after every exotic meal, it was necessary to undo the top button on my pants (which birthed an unwritten agreement about taking the elevator instead of walking one flight of stairs). very, very sexy for after dinner activities like square dancing, story telling, folk singers, and listening to what looked like the original  lawrence welk orchestra that must  have been exhumed for the evening. this place was clearly too wholesome for us, but we liked the “olde tyme” charm. when i say olde tyme i mean it – no tellies in the rooms, which leaves much time for participating in less wholesome activities after the old peeps go to bed at their 8:30 pm curfew.

even though it was 15 degrees the next morning, we were determined to do some of those outdoor winter activities we planned. bf was outfitted with a crazy ass faux coon skin cap with ear flaps that was worth whatever he paid for the amusement factor alone. then we went ice skating which i suck at and held the side rail the entire time. slick bf tried to relive his glory days of being on the ice hockey team by skating backwards & turning and, thus fell on his ass & somehow injured his shoulder. i did offer some restorative sports massage but, hey, that’s what you get for being a showoff. best part was we held hands while ice skating to Dreamweaver, which is only one of my top fave 5 lite fm songs ever. oh, and i got to see the zamboni in action. then after my shins were screaming from pain, who wouldn’t think its a good idea to take a 2 mile hike to the top of the snowy moutains with no provisions or proper gear ignoring all the “trail is closed for the season” signs roped off with orange caution tape? we had all the makings of a lost hikers story where one eats the other to stay alive & uses the carcass for warmth until the rescue copter comes 4 days later. turns out what i thought were fashionable ski pants were actually outdoor pants. minor difference being that they stayed dry but let all of the cold air through them and i neglected to wear my long johns with the butt flap. as we trekked around a bend, we lost our footing & slipped on ice under the snow and fell. it  was kind of funny after the initial terror of almost careening off the side of the mountain wore off (i think this may have been the reason for the seasonal closing of the trails). poor bf injured his other shoulder and now was officially in pain. it was clearly time to retreat to a lower, more civilized elevation &  find our travel mugs again.

the rest is a relaxing, drunken blur. we did a couples massage before we left which was wonderful, but which the only point of as far as i can tell is for the wives to be in the room so that hubby can’t get the ol’ happy ending. it’s odd to have a room mate in the massage room and i resisted the idea initially forgetting that i was on vacation with someone whose company i actually enjoyed. the best part of this snowy retreat, besides all that delicious alone time with the bf, was the “healing.”

i have to tell you that one of the most terrible things in my marriage was how miserable the asshat was on vacation. without fail, every vacation incorporated a HUGE knock down drag out fight where i ended up crying in a public place – usually at an expensive dinner.  it got to the point where i refused to go away with him anymore. i would say why would i want to take this show on the road where i will be trapped alone with you? if we drove somewhere, the hat would ignore me in the car. we sat in silence except for his craptacular RUSH music. it was torture. if we flew, he put in his ear buds and didn’t talk to me the entire flight. the final straw for me was our last vacation to italy. how do you ruin italy? you truly have to try. traveling with holio was so distasteful, i  had actually tried to convince myself that i didn’t care about traveling anywhere anymore. but, during our getaway, the sweet bf has once again just acted like a normal man and in doing so, swept me off my little 5.5’s.

sometimes i think i put a lot of pressure on bf to be the” perfect” guy, but really if you think about my past experiences – the bar isn’t set all that high. it was all so relaxing and enjoyable to just be together. he showed me how it’s supposed to be. we laughed and laughed. vacations are fun. they are relaxing. even if things don’t turn out how you envisioned and you tear both rotator cuffs, it’s all about the company. that is really what life is about. at least for me. akin to a woman who has awoken from a coma after 16 years: i am literally re-learning how to live again with a new & patient teacher. plus he has really cute boot-ay. but don’t tell him i told you.

happy sigh. :-)

grizzly adams & his quarry: the lone milf

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27
Jan 10

truth in advertising

so here’s a bunch of crap that i think about, weird stuff i do, some asshat custody evaluation fodder (this way he can’t say i never did nutin’ for him), & general observations:

when i see those memorial crosses with flowers & gifts on the side of the highway denoting a fatal traffic accident, i frequently wonder if some of them are for pets who got loose & got clobbered by a car.

when my i buy my kids craft projects or i am gifted with random assorted junk from the PTA sales at school, i say to myself that’s a $27.00 piece of garbage-to-be, how long am i expected to keep this on display before i can throw it out?

when trashing the aforementioned items, i have an evil process: 1. it is displayed for a reasonable period of time somewhere prominent. 2. it is moved somewhere less prominent so i can see if it’s absence has been noticed. this occurs for a lesser amount of time. 3. it is hidden in a drawer out of sight for a minimum of 2 weeks to see if anyone misses it at all. 4. it is wrapped in black garbage bags, stuffed in the bottom of the trash or disposed of in a secret trash location. once in awhile i get caught by the girls at perp-ing step 4 and i am forced to feign surprise & remorse and claim it was an accident. once the heat is off, i will then start the process again.

i once said raising girls involves a lot of glitter. demetri martin said. “glitter is the herpes of craft supplies.” i think that is spot on.

over the past month or so, the hat has been “secretly” videotaping me in the morning when i get the kids ready for school. i use the quotes because he thinks i don’t know and he thinks he is going to catch me in some inappropriate parental “behavior.” frankly, i normally only have 1 eye open at 7:30 am and i am way too tired to yell at my kids. he should really consider taping me later in the day when the caffeine crash has happened and i have spent 2 hours doing tandem homework assignments. anyway, i wonder what he plans to use it for. is he doing a live webcast show called, “my ex wife in the morning?” maybe posting it on you porn? since he can not be seen at all on the tape, he is basically admitting to doing nothing at all each morning. way to go superdad! i wonder if his brilliant legal counsel told him to do that or if he just cooks up his own schemes while fantasizing about how he will get me convicted of a mothering crime: “judge, look at the tape. she actually had the nerve to get annoyed at the kids after asking them 6 times to get their shoes on for the bus. she should have asked at least 10 with a smile on her face and not raising her voice one decibel. plus, she made them wear jackets and gloves despite their pleas to the contrary! she should lose custody.” “judge, just look at that sloppy spreading of the bread. and that crust is not completely cut off and she is feeding our oldest, nutella, judge. nutella. yes, the chocolate hazelnut spread as seen on tv. yes, i did in fact eat the whole jar when i got the munchies last night so there wasn’t any left this morning. but, that is not the point. she is a bad, bad mother” “judge, did you see that? she only defrosted 3 mini pancakes, when clearly, the child asked for 4. that is definitely neglect.” when the kids aren’t looking i flip that lens the bird every so often when i walk by. i hope i look good on the ex-wife cam.

the ex-wife-to-be webcast: coming to a kitchen near you...

my itunes was randomly playing my tunes. billy joel’s “i don’t know why i go to extremes” came on. it occurred to me for the very first time in all the years i have been hearing that song, that it is clearly about his unmedicated bi-polar disorder.

when the bf and i are texting and i get a great blog idea from our exchange i say to him, “ferb, i know what we are going to blog about today. ” you have to be as huge a dorky phineas & ferb fan as I am to get this, but it amuses me.

all those new hybrid vehicles remind me of a hack magician’s act where he saws the chick in half in the box. that’s what those cars look like to me: like they were abruptly sawed in half in the middle of assembly at the plant.

i cheated my way through typing in middle school and still can’t type without looking to this day. i even hold my fingers in the “home” position, but that is as close as i get to actual ability. i regret that, since, clearly, typing is a useful skill for a wanna-be writer. kids, it’s true: cheating only hurts you in the end. i am living proof.

i am not saying no one else came up with this idea, but 7 years ago i emailed babies ‘r us’ corporate HQ  and told them about the existence of a large empty space in the area (which actually became their current location in manalapan), because i was tired of driving to eatontown for my excessive and entirely unnecessary baby needs. by the time they built it, i no longer had any use for their merchandise. however, i like to think that i helped out all the preggos in this area with that now unselfish act.

many times during the day i am shopping for things my kids need and i have a question or need clarification. like, ” is it you or your sister who eats chunky peanut butter?” and, “they don’t have the notebook in blue, will you use a red one?” and i wish i could text them at school to learn this important stuff that is worth interrupting their learning.

since the master cleanse only lasted til lunch, i decided to finish up my bottle of “hydroxycut hardcore.” one pill not only gives me insane energy so that i don’t need my giant latte anymore (a $4 daily savings), but also puts a perma-grin on my face. i am telling you it is better than any anti-depressant i have sampled.* they should put this stuff in the water.  *these statements have not been evaluated by the FDA.

i have a lock with a word combination because i can’t remember the damn numbers and how many turns which way (that was some major anxiety in school. hence the recurring locker nightmare).  the word i chose 3 years ago pre-divorce, but on the verge of very bad behavior is “LUSTY.” but, please don’t break into my locker at the gym now that you have the code, because i have no idea how to change it.

as i have told you, the idea of marrying again puts fear in my heart, but i know never to say never. but i think i would re-write the vows to make them a wee bit more truthful. like, “do you take this man in baldness and fatness, through bull and bear markets, for offensive gas and hairy ears, through workoholism and job loss, during kitchen remodels and sickness when he is being a complete pain in the ass. ” “do you take this woman to be your wife, during pms and bloating, pregnancy and numerous weight loss attempts thereafter, through bad haircuts and through losing your closet space to 59 pairs of black shoes, and promise to check on her once in awhile when she has the flu to make sure she is not dead?” “do you take each other to have and to hold if you can get your arms around each other after 15 years?” “do agree to honor invasive in-laws and friends you don’t like?” “do you agree to replace the toilet paper when its down to 3 squares and not leave empty containers in the fridge and say thank you once in awhile?” i think this could really save some marriages. much of the success in life is all about having realistic expectations and i think some truth in advertising would help.

you ever listen to music you used to just love that you thought was way cool a year or so later and realize how bad it really sucks and then wonder how you ever liked it in the first place? maroon 5 is this band for me. now i get why that doctor meg briefly dated on family guy said, ” i remembered you liked crappy music, so i bought you the new maroon 5 cd.”

when my girls play games where their dolls get married, i cringe inside.

a word i would like to see retired: “multi-task.” it just means doing a whole lotta things at once all half-assed  and pretending you are paying attention to your kids when you’re doing something else. another: “synergy” it’s made up corporate gobbledy gook. only douches use it.

also, i hate when people say i “text” her insetad of i “textED” her. i’m glad you are up to speed with technology, now how about trying to speak english correctly too?

when i have to spend some quality time in the loo at home and i have forgotten my reading material or i am not at my home loo location, i have some games i play to pass the time: 1. i take any object with writing on it and play the alphabet game. this is where i search for every letter of the alphabet in the text of the product in order of the alphabet.  then i do that with a word starting with each letter in alphabetical order. 2. i find a long word and make smaller words out of it. 3. sometimes i play the list game, where i try to make up a word for every letter of the alphabet according to a subject, like” antelope bear, cat, etc.  but it’s best to be properly equipped with your preferred reading material at all times ( hence the term pocketbook) or have access to the internet via a discrete hand-held device.

i would buy an iphone immediately if it had a “personal massager” app. that would be great for travel. or daily errands. or time at home…

i despise clutter so much that even e-clutter makes me nuts too. i clean out my email in-box religiously, unsubscribe from junk mail, update the email address book, delete unused files and programs, defragment the hard drive, remove duplicates and unwanted songs on my i-tunes frequently, delete old contacts from my cell, and reorganize all of my bookmarks regularly. keep in mind i can absolutely find time for all that, but i don’t floss.

2 new bumper stickers for my line: “i went on the honeymoon from hell and all i  got was this stupid bumper sticker” and “no sex on my wedding night.”

i’d love to make a video game for ex-wives where you get to shoot at men in suits running around with briefcases.

a few months ago i saw maybelline pulse perfection mascara in CVS. it is a vibrating mascara for $14.99. for that price, it better make me a latte the next morning.

my current romantical relationship has this kind of “stoner effect” where we get so involved and so interested in so many topics of conversation at once that we say, “waaaiiiitttttt, what were we talking about, duuuude?” i would love to have a dvr for my life/brain for this purpose. you could rewind back and remember what you were saying or did. there would be no arguing anymore. you could just say, “hey ref, lets’ go to the tape for a ruling.”

i am what is known as a chronoptimist.

several months ago i helped chaperon a sleepover party for 20 nine year old girls. wanna know what it was like? imagine being around 20 women all pms-ing hard at the same exact time. crying, hair pulling, gossiping, exclusionary tactics, and girls leaving at 4am. it was not pretty. after the craft portion of the fiesta was complete, i told the hostess, “as soon as you put the movie on, i am opening the wine.” she immediately said,” girls, i’m turning the movie on now.”

should someone hire me for such, my possible column titles are:  i am woman: hear me whorepermanently hot and bothered, the lone milf, batshit crazy, my ugly divorce.

words i love: craptastic, fucktacular, dooshtastic, asshat (love the word, not the dude.)

5 famous people i want to hang out (= drink)  with: 1.  chelsea handler 2. niecey nash as her reno 911 character 3. brian from family guy  4. danielle fischel from the dish 5. joel mchale from the soup

did i ever tell you about my most embarrassing moment? tough shit if i did: it’s the very first day of college, it’s night, bunch of us are hanging in the dorm lounge to get to know each other and playing trivial pursuit. it’s my turn. the question is asked. i pause for a minute, shift in my seat, and in doing so a fart escapes. everyone dies laughing because they think i did it on purpose as my answer. i crawled out when no one was looking, but it took an entire semester to live down until i did some way more embarrassing things…

i love interior design and ever since i was a kid i try to peep into people’s windows as i drive by to checkout how their houses are decorated.

i don’t understand the concept of being a sports fan and hometown pride. you were just born there, you’re not playing for the team. ditto for people who say, “we won. we lost” it’s not we. you are not on the field. in fact, your lazy ass is sitting and watching, hotter, slimmer, younger men than yourself doing cool things while you are drinking 6 beers and eating 4 jumbo chili dogs. makes even less sense to me when it’s not even a team from where you went to college or ever lived that you gets so jazzed about and a loss ruins your day. what am i missing here?

why do manufacturers keep improving toothbrushes and toothpaste? it’s stuff we  have to use anyway. its not like you will start brushing regularly because they have a cool new toothpaste or quit because you don’t like the bristle placement on the available toothbrushes. seems like overkill to me.

can someone please make the voices inside my head stop? maybe the freud finger puppet?

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18
Jan 10

consider this.

so, me & the bf are getting to that point in the relationship where we need to acknowledge that we both have bodily functions. i am tired of running the water while i go to the loo so he can’t hear me tinkle and pretending that i shit roses or not at all. and a few nights ago, for the first time in 17 months, he actually admitted to “some abdominal discomfort” and begrudgingly let me administer gas-ex (yes, i do have that on my person at all times). there is this strong desire to keep up the romance on all fronts, but at some point we will have to admit we are human and let go of some of that pretense. and quite honestly, i just can’t hold the methane in anymore.

the letting go of  “the romance,” presents quite the conundrum for me since one of the many issues in my crappy marriage was the complete & total lack of it.  and since the bf knows that was a major sore point, i imagine he must feel extreme pressure to keep up this charade. and it would serve me nicely to lighten up a bit since, i, myself, am largely maintaining my facade with a lot of  smoke and mirrors. for instance, i  am a notorious zit picker & quite frankly, i am exhausted from the amount of time & effort it takes to apply a perfect veneer of concealer every time i see him. and while i do love to dress to impress, i am really most happy in my hello kitty flannel pajama bottoms & muppets tee shirt, not all that sexy lingerie. when i go to his place after a stressful day, i  just long to sit in front of the tv with my hand down my pants & ride that remote like the little bitch it is, not sit all properly arranged & ladylike. in short, i’m just about ready to trade in Hot Sex Kitten status for Lukewarm Cute Companion. it is, however, with great trepidation that i consider such, for much fear of our relationship losing that proverbial “spark.”

but here is what i am finally starting to realize: that while giving in to some of that comfort is not a license for complete slovenliness, it is the dawning of true intimacy. reaching a place where i can feel free to unbutton my pants after eating too much for dinner & he can pass out on the couch is the true intimacy of accepting each other for who we really are, warts and all. but it’s a tricky endeavor, because we can quickly get into the territory of letting ourselves go just a little too much and turn into unattractive slobs. even barney & robin fell victim to relationship paunch (that’s the weight most of us tend to gain around the middle when we are comfortable in our relationship. umm,  guilty, your honor).

but i also think we women sometimes confuse the desire for romance for the need to feel appreciated. because lets face it, long after all the glitter has faded from the romance of hollywood movies (for which we all desperately pine and which most mortal men are not even remotely capable of pulling off), at the end of the day, what makes us feel truly loved and cared for is our partner’s consideration & appreciation for us. without it, we feel little like partners, and more like trapped indentured servants.

it’s true that women are the genetically coded caretakers and most of us take to that task naturally, easily, and willingly. we are happy to give up a lot when it comes to our children & spouses and we don’t really expect much in return. but what wears on a woman and a marriage, is the complete lack of consideration & gratitude. it’s being the person that shops for the toilet paper & makes sure it’s in inventory at all times, but always being the one who is caught with her pants around her ankles with nothing but a cardboard roll with a few shreds left on it. it usually not for lack of asking either. (i finally got so sick of that particular situation that i just used his face towel to wipe my ass. disgusting, but immensely satisfying.) it’s being the one that buys all the groceries but never the one who has milk for her coffee because instead of replacing it, someone has left only 2 drops in the container in the fridge. its the endless list of inconsiderate behaviors that add up over the years and make a woman eventually want to run away from home. this isn’t what we signed on for when we recall the happy ending disney & hallmark promised us. it’s those seemingly unimportant things that are usually overlooked that let us know we really are loved: checking the air in our tires, changing a light bulb, getting our oil changed, saying thank you once in awhile. wives and mothers are not personal assistants and do not find enlightened fulfillment from dragging endless piles of shirts to the dry cleaners while juggling a 30 pound infant carrier and a toddler. and, i know no one wins the argument of who has it harder or who is more tired with more stress and responsibilities. being “all growed up” and wearing big boy clothes & big girl panties sucks all around. we all need to show each other our appreciation because it gets lost so easily in the bustle of everyday survival. the little things say so much. and oh, those big, giant awful things in my marriage would have been so much easier to stomach if there ever were some tiny gestures in which to take comfort.

the greatest loneliness & pain of my marriage was being tethered to a man who showed me every day that he could have cared less about me by his complete lack of consideration and interest.  and while living with his unbearable selfishness, my utmost servitude was expected. i would walk into a room or the house & be met with complete indifference like i wasn’t even there. i would try to speak to him & receive no response. i was never able to take him at his word from the smallest to largest thing when he said he would do something because he let me down every time. and i carried a tremendous secret burden of A Bad Marriage because on the outside it looked like the Suburban Dream was mine. i wanted to achieve it so badly, i pretended to be happy. i smiled on the outside, while on the inside i was despondent. i did everything i could think of to Make It Work. and when i would try to fix what i felt was wrong & try to make him understand, he just wanted to buy me off with another piece of jewelery or some extra cash. i felt like little more than a prostitute or a housekeeper much of the time. it took a really long time to figure out that he just wasn’t capable of giving me what i needed. no matter what i did to please him or try to “fix” things, it would never be any different. i had to accept the death of my marriage and with it, many of my dreams, to be able to move on in my life.

and that is why i am so very grateful to the ETB for filing those papers first. i struggled with that decision for 7 years prior, since my first child was born. i wanted so badly to stay and make it work, but my marriage was like a prison to me everyday. he emancipated me from a slow death – i was becoming a bitter shell of myself. there never was just one heartbreaking moment -  he ripped at my heart a little bit each day until there was simply no more forgiveness left in me. it took me 16 years of abuse to no longer feel anything for him. i was done “working on it.” all the marriage therapy on earth couldn’t save us. but hey, his torture led me to the bf (another story for another day) and i really can’t thank him enough. being freed of him, was the only real gift the he ever gave me.

i am really a simple girl at heart,  like i said: the little things make me happy. i was fortunate enough to have the big, beautiful house, the lexus, the diamonds, luxury vacations, nordstrom shopping, private pre-schools, babysitters, a new kitchen, & all the material things i wanted but i was still empty inside. it all meant nothing without love. and this brings me back to the sweet bf: i am so smitten with him partly because of all that small stuff he does for me (this is where he gets really embarrassed and blushes) like bringing me coffee in bed and making sure he is properly stocked with good vodka. he even makes me mix tapes (well, actually cd’s, but now just the memory stick from his itunes). he cooks for me & remembers that i hate black pepper but love garlic (and he never admits when i have garlic or onion breath either). he cleans the bathroom before i come over, does all the research about anything i need because i hate to do it, pretends he didn’t hear an errant toot slip out, and has come running to be at my side without question whenever i have needed him.  and i love that we can talk for hours and laugh and just be. just be together and be content in that. AND he does what he says he will do; and that, my friends, is the most important thing to me: being with a man i can depend on, especially now that my father is gone. really, i could easily list a zillion more things, but the only one that matters is that he truly loves me for who i am and i feel safe to be myself completely when i am with him. i never felt that with anybody before and that is a whole new, beautiful world for me. he does this all while he keeps telling me that he is “really is not that special.” “this is normal.” but for 16 years, i had the complete opposite of that,  so to me to me it’s not “normal.” it’s spectacular.

now i am on a path of healing and freedom from all that pain of my failed marriage and i hope that wonderful bf of which i speak remains on the journey with me. i don’t know where the future will lead us, but i am damn grateful for the time we have had together so far. he has taught me so much about myself and about relationships. i am quite happy to take it slow this time around- the idea of marrying again terrifies me.

you know, the other day the bf offered me a drawer. a whole drawer. i considered it for a minute and then decided that i am fine with my existing 1/4 of a bottom drawer for my jammies and one slot in the toothbrush holder in his bathroom. but an entire drawer? i’m just not ready for that level of intimacy, yet. ;-)

p.s here is a simple helpful equation that could help many a marriage: men want more sex. women want more consideration. do the math, morons: more consideration = more sex.

the pancake the size of my head the bf made me for breakfast. check out the omelette, bacon, & MIMOSA in the background. oh yeah. that's what ahm tawkin bout!

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14
Jan 10

caveat emptor

i have learned of 3 more divorces quite recently and as glad as i am to be participating in a very lengthy one, i’m still sad when someone else’s dreams of that fallacious disney happy ending have died along with mine. so, in the interest of public service, i would like to share my great wisdom with the young ones out there who are considering volunteering for The Life Sentence, and, maybe together, we can prevent forest fires. here are some of the proverbial Red Flags (or load of bricks on the head), i would have been prudent to consider prior to signing on for my indentured servitude and thinking, “it will be different when we are married.” all in my opinion, of course. any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is purely coincidental

signs you should not marry the jackass, not necessarily in chronological order, if:

1. you, the current girlfriend, are not only not invited to your boyfriend’s college graduation party, but asked not to come while the most recent ex-girlfriend is.

2. you ditch your friends on your 21st birthday to be with your boyfriend (for which they will never forgive you) and he gets “a headache” and you stay home all night listening to him whine instead of doing shots with your bffs & snogging random dudes in a sleazy college bar.

3. it is a regular occurrence that your boyfriend is MIA for hours and ignores your phone calls even though you had a date because, he “was sleeping and didn’t hear the phone.”

4. he wears sneakers with velcro on them and he is over 20 years old.

5. he is so obsessed with a suckass band, that his rule for deciding if he will marry you one day is if you will go see that band with him at least once and it would help if you liked it.

6. when your californian cousin that you hardly ever get to see (or insert any one of your relatives or friends) comes to visit and you plan to go into NY to party for the evening (or insert any event) and he comes down with “a migraine” that lands him in bed for the evening. well, at least you go without him.

7. your boyfriend’s parents buy his ex-girlfriend a birthday present after you have already been dating him for a year, because they are still friends with her and “still care for her a great deal.”

8. your boyfriend’s sister says, ” i always thought you were going to marry (insert ex-gf’s name),” in front of you.

9. your boyfriend of approximately 2.5 years breaks up with you when you opt to visit your mother in the hospital after her hysterectomy rather than going to watch him kung-foo fight, saying, “she’s fine. you didn’t really need to be there. you were the only girlfriend who wasn’t there. i just can’t be with someone like that.” (also, you will forever hate yourself when you beg him to take you back after 24 hours. trust me.)

10. he EVER speaks ill of his mother. or your mother.

11. tells you that you embarrass him in front of his friends.

12. thinks pestering you to the point of making you cry is fun.

13. punches a hole in the wall right next to your head during a conversation about his crappy behavior, because he is just “so upset he hurt you.”

14. refuses to marry you unless you live with him first.

15. right before you plan to move in with him (because you gave in against the entire world’s advice), he goes with his parents to buy couches without you. hideous couches you will spend the better part of the next decade trying to get rid of.

16. he allegedly tries to get you stoned every night so you don’t notice what a jackass he is.

17. has a tantrum because the new sheets you bought are “scratchy” and refuses to sleep in your bed until you wash them, so he sleeps on the floor.

18. asks you to pick the zits on his head like you are grooming an ape & tells you you’re “selfish” when you refuse to out of disgust.

19. your father comes to you weeks before your wedding and tells you you “don’t have to go through with it. i don’t care about the money”

20. he allegedly asks you to hide his pot from him in a lock box and then threatens to harm you & cracks the code anyway when you refuse to give it to him.

21. you have one single, tiny, iota of doubt.

okay, so you didn’t listen to me or, more importantly,  your own nagging fears (which you swallowed down the night before the wedding) and you married the jackass anyway (because, the wedding is all planned, you are already living with him, and you have invested way too much time in him to leave). here are signs that he will most likely be your “first husband.”

signs your marriage may not be going well, not necessarily in chronological order, if:

1. your husband does nothing for your birthday, which also happens to be on passover, in favor of going to a concert of a band he has seen approximately 59 times.

2. he takes your $25.00 hanukah check from your grandmother and puts it in the joint account.

3. he does not acknowledge your family members when they are in your home.

4. his idea of dressing up is wearing the button down concert t-shirt instead of the regular concert tee and therefore refuses to go anywhere requiring big boy clothes.

5. when you are visiting international relatives for the holidays and he works in a concert 48 of said awful band and leaves you and the children in the hotel room alone while he does so. oh, and he also leaves his wedding band in the bathroom. hmmm.

6. while you are in the aforementioned hotel room, you unintentionally find his alleged porn websites on his computer because he wasn’t smart enough to erase the browser history and what you find is so sick it horrifies you. you also find the alleged craig’s list prostitute ads he was allegedly perusing in towns when he was “on tour” with his crappy band and most of them appear to be from allegedly under-aged girls.

7. refuses to sit down to a home cooked dinner at night, citing, ” i can’t be expected to sit down to dinner every night. you are trying to control me,” even though he usually gets home before most people leave work for the day.

8. isn’t excited about your first pregnancy because when you told him he was “still mad at you from the fight this morning.”  and barely even acknowledges the second one.

9. hates all of your friends.

10. does not have sex with you on your wedding night because he is too tired from counting up all the checks.

12. you are vomiting uncontrollably before you have to leave for your flight for the honeymoon & he doesn’t even give enough of a shit to get you a plastic bag because he is going to hawaii with or without you, dammit.

13. he has an all out screaming, crying, flailing tantrum on the floor one morning before work because the cat barfed on his favorite rug. the one with the pretty animals on it.

14. he considers owning a porn collection to be his scared right & your objection to it to be “unsupportive of his needs.”

15. he allegedly smokes pot your entire marriage and refuses to quit even after you have kids because you are “trying to take something away from” him that “he loves” & you are “trying control him.”

16. tries to convince you that you are crazy, and says you need anti-depressants & blood work to prove to him you’re not at his mother’s suggestion.

17. throws the fact around that he was there at the hospital when you had a lump removed from your breast as a reason why you should be more sympathetic when his back hurts.

18.  he allegedly uses you as a drug mule for his pot by hiding it in your suitcase on a flight to new orleans and tells you just as you are walking past the drug sniffing dogs. his reason, “well, i have a [broker's] license.” which, to him, makes perfect sense since you are only the children’s mother and they won’t miss you while you’re in jail.

19. he allegedly hides pot somewhere in the car you are driving over the canadian border, without your knowledge, but thinks its a good time to tell you after your car has been searched. ditto that on another night coming home from nyc after being stopped by the po po at a parkway rest stop.

20. freaks out if someone parks on his side of the driveway & blocks his entry into the garage.

21. throws the coffee table across the room, damaging it, because you rearranged the furniture again and he doesn’t like it.

22. pretends not to hear when you or his kids are speaking to him.

23. he allegedly takes all of your painkillers for recreational use after you have agonizing wisdom tooth removal so you do not have them when you are writhing in pain and actually need them.

24. hits a deer & wrecks the car the night you return home form your honeymoon, but gets mad at you “for being upset about the deer” and not “supporting” him.

25. thinks it’s fine for you to take the garbage out when you are 8 months preggers. at night.

26. you suspect at any time your husband might allegedly be a sociopath or at the very least a mental patient.

25. treats you like anything less than his beloved & treasured partner in life.

oh, i could go on, for pages,  but i think that covers most of your basic warning signs.

but, i’m not bitter. really. ;-)

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13
Jan 10

reality, bites!

so, i have just emerged from the cozy cocoon of a sick child who has been home for two days. the doc confirmed it was just a stomach virus and not The Swine. thank jeebus. i am developing a very close relationship with the pediatrician this year; averaging a sick visit with one child or another every 30ish days. poor lil thing felt so crappy all she did was lay in my bed and watch tv for 2 days. and of course, i being her loving mother, was more than thrilled to put everything on hold and sit and watch tv with her for 2 days. i discovered an entire world i have been missing – Daytime Reality TV. it’s generally reserved for the homebound, insane, house arrested, and unemployed, but we found a whole new slew of shows to dvr. we enjoyed The Style Network the most & its myriad of shows designed to break already low self-esteemed women down further by telling them their entire life sucks, their friends agree, and all they need to fix it is a makeover. thus, confirming their deepest fears that all that matters is how you look. then these newly fabulous empowered creatures are booted back to their crappy lives with to die for designer clothes they really could never afford, a hairstyle never to be replicated again, and a face full of expertly applied “natural” makeup that once washed off will turn back into blue eye shadow & glitter eyeliner. all with an “atta girl” sprinkled on top. since i now know all of womankind’s problems can be solved with a makeover, i have applied to be on the show…

anyway, all this “reality” inspired me to come up with my own reality shows, based on actual Reality.

here is the svw network’s spring 2010 lineup in development:

Unshowered

follow the deterioration of  extremely well groomed pregnant women as they become new mothers and no longer have the time for the extensive personal hygiene they once did. see the true genius of the creativity put into looking clean, but not actually being so. while being held together loosely by under-eye concealer & massive quantities of caffeine, can they fool their closet friends? will the baby wake up just as she steps into the tub? can she shave her legs with a one year old dancing around the bathroom? will husbands who never hear the baby wailing  all night, “help” out long enough to let their comatose wives take a shower? will she ever stop silently weeping upon accidentally viewing old photos of the woman she once was? the dirtiest, hairiest, but cleanest looking woman wins a trip to the bathroom so she can take just one crap alone.

Preschool Princessess

watch a semester of a class of darling suburban 2 year olds as they spend 3 hours at a pricey pre-school. watch their mothers overdress them in fancy designer clothes made for dolls, not children, send them into a room full of paint and glue and admonish them “to stay clean” while encouraging them to have fun. notice the teachers beginning to crack from the stress of trying to keep smocks on these princesses so mommy doesn’t rip them a new one when she comes back. you will be on the edge of your seat when grape juice and oreos are served at snack time.

Pyramid Scheme Pals

meet 5 women with their “own businesses.” they sell everything from makeup to craft supplies to household items. explore this cunning underworld as they struggle epically to keep making “new friends” (i.e. network)  to host “parties” where they get these “friends” to buy tons of overpriced crap they don’t need and to get others to be a “rep” under them. all it takes is a few suckers with checkbooks & a bottle of wine for these enterprising women to barely cover their initial outlay for “the product” they are now housing in their garages. some will actually make money, some will be forced to liquidate and quit. see how they handle the constant alienation from the community such as “friends” hiding from them when they approach for fear they be asked “to host a party as a favor” or attend one where they have to buy something out of a misplaced feeling of obligation.

On Hold: India

watch as 2 teams of heroic men & women conquer their fears in this monumental adventure game. they must get on the phone with customer service reps in india and brave the eternal holding pattern of a person that needs actual product support. only the most finely tuned of ears, can decipher the code of what the”agent” on the other end who just learned english yesterday is actually saying. how long can they go without hanging up? many will try, but few will succeed. the winner gets to be transferred to a supervisor and wait for a call back that never comes.

So You Think You Can Text

see the trials and tribulations of texters trying to communicate with non-texters in this exciting reality series. feel their joy when their technologically challenged friends finally get it & join the rest of the world in this new endeavor. see generations come together in a whole new way that doesn’t require any of that pesky talking. share their ups & downs as they try to decode each other’s text slang and give birth a whole new language. watch texting wars and friendships crumble under the weight of lag time. hold your breath as they all text while driving even though they promised tyra they wouldn’t.

Lunch

follow a bunch of women through various stages of wifedom & motherhood as they lunch at a different locale daily. the great debate of what to order. salad or chicken? dressing on the side. who is dieting? who is eating bread? who isn’t eating carbs? watch a fight break out as  the carb eater spits in the face of the the non-carb eater & snags her bread. who will have the gall to order dessert? will the stroller fit? how do the other women handle the pal that is always rude to the wait staff or the friend who has obnoxious kids that make a giant mess while screaming for an hour? will the intelligent woman’s ears bleed if she has to listen to one more story from the vacuous ex-supermodel mom? do they all make it home before the bus? the victorious woman wins a lifetime of all expense paid lunching at nordtsrom.

The Great Race: Endless Supermarket Run

watch  5 harried women return to the grocery store day after day for that One More Item they eternally need even though they “were just here yesterday.” see them cruise the parking lot for a closer spot, load 4 fighting kids into the cart and endure long “express” lines with lots of crap their whiny brats beg them to buy while just trying to pay for a 1/2 gallon of milk.

Drive-Thru Divas

you will be glued to your screen every week watching 6 suburban women drive about town in their giant suvs. they achieve all of their daily tasks without ever leaving their cars. coffee, lunch, the banking, pick up the family’s rx’s, re-fuel; all while talking on their cell phones to each other and just narrowly missing side swiping the drive-thru windows.  this is a game of extreme skill and only the winner will make it to the end of the season with both side view mirrors in tact.

Suburban Sexy

track a group of gorgeous suburban milfs as they follow a grueling weekly grooming schedule of manicures, pedicures, fills, spa treatments, hilights, color, cut, style, waxing, laser, botox,  and tanning. watch the young newbie’s eyes pop out of her head when the giant russian lady gives her a brazillian she didn’t ask for. she how they beautify & maintain from head to toe and still go home to husbands that ignore them because they are schtuping the chick at the office. they don’t care if hubby doesn’t notice, because the cable guy sure does.

Death by Disney

in this contest, teams of parents are forced to watch endless repeats of some of disney’s most insidious shows without losing consciousness or sanity. they will be hooked up to monitors to measure the effects on their bodies while  dr. drew explains their failing brain activity. will contestants’ long term memories be permanently altered by disney sitcom stereotypes’ quips? will their heads explode on national tv? does anybody but disney really win this game?

Queen of the Gym

which exercise obsessed work out princess will win the title of queen at the end of this series? it will be hard for the hottest personal trainer to pick his queen. which fabulously fit chick has the flattest abs, biggest implants, tightest spandex, best tatts, tightest ass, & most strategically placed multiple piercings? only one of these dedicated ladies who is at the gym every single day for 2 or 3 hours can wear the coveted diamonelle studded weight belt. who wants the crown badly enough? which lovely lady is willing to meet the fat gym owner in the locker room after hours to secure her title? how many guys will she let “spot her” to ensure the win? winner receives  a swarovski combination lock and a lifetime of personal training. and we mean personal.

network execs may feel free to contact me to discuss further creative development.

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07
Jan 10

i’m game

hey, you know what’s really fun? trivia and games and trivia games.  i have some really fun trivia that I think is “clearly germaine and pertinent to the issues being addressed” in my divorce. I also “submit that there are aspects of this” trivia “which are troubling and disturbing at best, if not calling into the question the stability and parental capacity” of The Asshat “at this juncture.” in that spirit, i have drawn from the “vent” -ings of “a mad suburban housewife,” to design my own nifty trivia game. it’s called:

Guess the Assholio

1. Guess which Assholio sleeps with, carries in his briefcase, and caresses a blue blankie while driving:

a. Sloth from the Goonies

b. the creepy Meghan’s Law neighbor from down the block

c. Manchildholio

2. Guess Which Assholio blows snot on the shower walls instead of using a tissue & leaves it there as a permanent art installation:

a. Animal from The Muppet Show

b. Mr. Clean’s alter ego, Mr. Filthy

c. Pigholio

3. Guess which Assholio purchased synthetic urine online to allegedly use for a pre-employment drug test:

a. Ben of Ben & Jerry

b. Pauley Shore

c. Mary J. Holio

4. Guess which Assholio withheld conjugal relations from his wife during most of the marriage preferring his  giant collection of porn, a plastic vagina & penis pump:

a. 80 year old Hugh Heffner

b. The Hedgehog, Ron Jeremy

c. Pervertholio

5. Guess which Assholio didn’t answer his phone or the banging on his door when his kids wanted to wish him a happy new year:

a. Al Bundy

b. Father Time

c. Superdadholio

6. Guess which Assholio started a fire in a room next to where his children were sitting by putting ashes from his “incense” in his wastebasket full of paper and then left the room & said children alone:

a. Smoky the Bear’s half-wit cousin, Sooty

b. Fire Marshal Bill

c. Impairedholio

7. Guess which Assholio didn’t shovel the driveway after 2.5 feet of snow fell so his children could be safely driven out of the garage or walk down to the hill to the school bus without falling on the ice:

a. Lazy Smurf

b. Frosty the Snowman’s Evil twin, Slippery the Snowman

c. Slackholio

8. Guess which Assholio has refused to buy groceries for or wash articles of his kids’ laundry when specifically asked by said children to do so at the exact time he is already performing these very acts for himself:

a. George Jefferson

b. Darth Vader

c. Dildoholio

9. Guess which Assholio stole his wife’s checkbooks, cash, & moved assets after divorce filings necessitating the hiring of expensive forensic accounting experts:

a. Donald Trump

b. The CEO of Enron

c. Brokerholio

10.  Guess which Assholio removed approximately 54 light bulbs from his kid’s home to limit household utility usage, forcing his children to sit in the dark to do their homework & was eventually court ordered to replace said light bulbs:

a. The Heat Miser

b. Ralph Nader

c. Cheapholio

11. Guess which Assholio eats toaster oven steak almost every night:

a. Bobby Flay

b. A Homeless Dude

c. Chefholio

12. Guess which Assholio worships one of the crappiest bands of all time to the point of certifiable obsession akin to a trekkie (in my opinion), and “toured” with them (his word), i.e., followed them across the country, for 3 weeks one summer while leaving his wife and kids home:

a. Jack Black

b. Cameron Crowe

c. Dorkholio

13. Guess which Assholio travels with a finger puppet on vacations and takes pictures of it, once going so far as to ask his wife to take a picture of him with it instead of asking a passerby to take a picture of him & said wife & then got violently angry at said wife because she refused to do such:

a. Triumph, the Insult Comic Dog

b. Jeff Dunham

c. Nutholio

14. Guess which Assholio threw a giant old school rotary phone at his wife’s head when he couldn’t get international internet access while on an all expense paid trip in italy to read about the crappy band’s concert and then later screamed at her in front a group of people, he would rather be “touring” with that crappy band then be on vacation with her:

a. Ike Turner

b. Mike Tyson

c. Abusiveholio

15. Guess which Assholio, while on a Disney Cruise for a “family” vacation,  shoved his wife into a stairwell in an alleged attempt to push her down the stairs in front of his young children & other guests:

a. Pete the Bully

b. Scrooge McDuck

c. Mouseketeerholio

16. Guess which Assholio won a 5K jackpot in vegas when on vacation with his wife, and then became uncontrollably paranoid & completely convinced he was being followed, chastised her nastily for celebrating the win publicly, and forcibly dragged her back to their hotel room to hide out for the rest of the evening:

a. Steve Wynn

b. Howard Hughes

c. Dellusionalholio

17. Guess which Assholio claimed to be on a business trip but, i strongly suspect actually went to RatCon 2009 (the dates of said trip & this event matched up suspiciously) at a cheesy motel to listen to music and talk about his most favoritest awesomely horrible band for several days with his bestest psychonerd bff’s in their motel rooms (i ask you, does it get any douchier than that?):

a. Derek Smalls of Spinal Tap

b. Geddy Lee, himself

c. Rusholio

18. Guess which Assholio was bullied as a kid & pooped his pants at sleep-away camp at the age of 10:

a. Steve Erkel

b. Screech

c. Camperholio

19. Guess which Assholio watched over 7 hours of wrasslin’ most  every week of the marriage and may have believed it to be real:

a.Vince McMahon

b. Peter Griffin

c. Hulk Hoganholio

20. Guess which Assholio will soon realize his dream of being freed of the bitchy wife (a.k.a unruly indentured servant), unfit mother of his children, and cushy life he has lead for 13 years:

a. Schmuckholio

b. Divorceholio

c. a & b

Scoring:

Give yourself 0 points for every a or b answer. Give your self 1 point for every c answer. If you score under 20 points, you are clueless and have not been paying much attention to this blog. go back to the beginning. if you score 19 points, congratulations, you are expert in all things Holio.

*5 points extra credit if you figured out the finger puppets in the photo at the top are the likenesses of 3 famous psychoanalysts: freud, anna freud, & carl jung complete with couch. these nifty guys are available at uncommongoods.com. my hope is that the shrink puppets will analyze the conky puppet and help him work out all those mommy issues of his.

conky, the puppet with whom i toured italy. best company i had whole trip.

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01
Jan 10

resolution solution

confetti

i stopped making new year’s resolutions a few years ago when decided it was a futile exercise designed to make me feel shitty about myself; especially since i didn’t keep them up past january 3rd. this year i am taking it a step further – i am making a list of what i resolve not to do this year. i am optimistic i will have no problem with this year’s list…

for 2010, the year of the gggb, i  resolve NOT to:

  1. eat less, drink less, or exercise more.
  2. make my bed.
  3. stop procrastinating.
  4. text less & call more.
  5. listen to my voice mails.
  6. cut back on shoe, purse, & coat purchases.
  7. remember coupons.
  8. give up $4.00 daily lattes.
  9. kick my kids out of my bed at night.
  10. stop making multiple lists of crap to do that i wont do anyway.
  11. clean more.
  12. get up earlier than my kids on school days.
  13. squeeze my kids’ tushies less.
  14. drink enough water.
  15. floss. ever.
  16. lose that eternal 5 pounds.
  17. conserve light bulbs in these most “dire economic times.”
  18. worry about the small stuff or even most of the big stuff.
  19. stop missing my dad every day.
  20. brush my teeth before noon.
  21. stop picking my zits.
  22. eat less chocolate.
  23. “rescuing” stray change or bills from the laundry.
  24. stop embarrassing my girls by wearing my jammies & slippers to put them on the bus every morning.
  25. make anything for breakfast that can not be microwaved & ready for consumption in  23 seconds.
  26. keep the civil in civilization.
  27. make any real resolutions.

hmm. seems a lot like 2009…

**and  now, a segment,  new to 2010**

***The Hat’s Corner***

in an effort to bring humor back into humorless, this space is dedicated to you Mr. Hat, if you could just check this space regularly for personal messages since you are a regular reader now…

can you pick up some milk for the girls? 2%. 1/2 gallon is good.

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