It’s no surprise that I have a whole chapter about divorced dating sex in my book One Happy Divorce. Listen, y’all, you thought you were done with condoms, STDs, getting tested, and all that friggin drama? Think again. You had sex with the same person for years and years and years and years…. It was nice and safe (unless of course, he was cheating but that’s a different story! I hope you got tested, and nailed that motherfucker to the wall!)  Anyway, you get my drift– maybe you had to worry about birth control but not getting a fucking disease!

But now you’re divorced. 

You’re dating! You get to sow your oats again! Play the field! Wheeeee!

But, oh shit… it’s like Sex Ed all over again. I mean, if you’re my age, you PROBABLY didn’t have sex ed in school but I digress. Not long ago I recorded a video for Blunt Moms, about #WhySexEd. It’s an important topic. Yes, we need more sex ed in our schools, but guess what? SO DO YOU. But maybe you don’t need the same kind of sex ed. If you’re a parent, you probably are up on the all the latest horrible STDs anyway. (If you’re not up on the latest, though, here’s a handy video that explains IT ALL. Don’t watch it at work, okay? You’re welcome.)  So, besides the STDs, you also have a plethora of protection to choose from.

How about a female condom?

Or that stupid vaginal film. UGH! (When you read my book, you’ll hear all about THAT one. What a disaster.)

Ooh, how about a sponge? But then you might have this situation:

I mean, really. You probably haven’t thought about this stuff in YEARS. Even if you’re in no danger of getting pregnant, that nice divorced dad you’ve had your eye on could be a veritable petri dish. Just because he doesn’t look like a man slut, doesn’t mean he isn’t. Eyes open, girl!

Okay, let’s talk about the actual SEX. Maybe when you got divorced, you were basically a sexless couple or you were doing super boring missionary every.single.time.  Now, you get to have fun! Reinvent your sexual energy and learn something new. Variety is the spice of life, after all. I mean, you don’t have to sleep with every guy that winks at you but if you’re on a date, and you’re feeling it, GO WITH IT. This is not teenage sex when you didn’t know what you were doing. You’ve got the basics down now, so it’s time to up that sexy time. What you need the most after a divorce is to feel sexy again.  Sex will do that! It can do wonders for your self-esteem. I mean, I can’t promise that every escapade will be totally awesome. There will be duds, I can tell you that.  But mostly, it’ll be fun and you’ll feel great about yourself!  

I’ve got a book coming out soon! Download me reading an excerpt now!

Download some audio excerpts of the book read by ME!








Just slow my gosh darn roll! It’s a saying.  My kids use it, I think. They also called me, “savage” the other day. Not so sure that’s a good thing. But whatever. And how about “lit”, is that a positive adjective? Let me use it in a sentence for ya, “Mom, my friends at school think you’re totally LIT.” Hmm. Again, I question its exact connotation….but hey, I aim to please! But I got this “slowing your roll” phrase down! It means to ease your shit up, slow your ass down…stop moving into everything so dang fast. And for the love of all things holy STOP FALLING IN LOVE SO QUICKLY! Phew.

Ya, just gotta slow my damn roll, Cowgirl.

But really, how do are you supposed to move slowly when the guy is doing everything in his power to make you WANT HIM so damn bad? 





out of


fucking mind…

Oh, wait, that’s me. I’m the one that thought I was “in a relationship” when I wasn’t. Right. Moi. Crazy, party of one. But hey, at least I can admit I’m nuts! I know I have a screw loose. I can laugh at myself, and joke about my spaz-like qualities. Can you? I think, the girls that know they’re coo-coo are actually in fact, the non-crazies. It’s the ones that get all fucking defensive when you call them out…those are the REAL nut jobs. Those chicks? Bunny-boilers. Run like the wind from those tarts. Men, try using this tactic as a litmus test for psychoses, ok? When you take a women out on a first date, simply ask her if she’s off her rocker. Ya…go ahead! Tell her Hurvitz told you to do it! I’m sure you won’t offend her, she’s surely heard worse. And depending on her immediate response, you’ll smell the insanity!

I was having this exact discussion with a guy I found on Tinder! He does it. He tests for crazy. He is the one that actually told me about it, and I should probably give him props. But fuck him, we ended up getting in a little tiff. He called me crazy. So no royalties; I am stealing his stupid fucking “Crazy Test”. Obviously, I just did. Done. And I just named it, and wrote about it…and the real point of all this jibber-jabber is that I am back on Tinder. Follow me? Good. After the bullshit I’ve been through over the past few weeks, I have decided that the best way to get over someone, is to get under someone else. Do not judge. I clearly could care less what you think, or I wouldn’t be sharing my plan of attack. Plan of attack. Ha. I sound like a psycho.

But have all y’all seen Tinder lately?

Married men looking for “discreet women”. Polygamists searching for “wives” to add to their “happy homes”. Guys looking for “friends with benefits”. Men with rulers showing the length of their members. Yup, you heard me. Just this morning I came across a profile with a picture of a ruler, that said “8 inches”. (She said came across) Ha. Pun totally not intended, but it just fit so nicely didn’t it? And these guys think WE are the crazy ones? That WE are the nuttier of the genders? Holy Fuckballs, guys. Give it up. You must be drinking the crazy juice, because there is nothing more insane than the shit going down on Tinder! It’s a dating site…I am simply trying to find a nice boy to have lunch with. Share a little conversation, have a cup of coffee. My finger is throbbing from swiping left. Left, left…left. Loser, loser…and LOSER.

Ok, that was harsh.

I shouldn’t be so Judgy Smurf. Perhaps there are women out there that are looking to fuck married men. Or that are interested in being with a guy that has 3 other wives. Who am I to judge? Maybe, there is a woman, sitting home right now…swiping RIGHT on that guy that posted his pepe with the yardstick. Yes. She didn’t see his face, or his body. She didn’t care. No! She was just swiping right for his 8 inch cock. HA! I am laughing so hard? I swear, I can’t stop. I’m seriously imagining some asshole-chick matching up with the Penis Poster! Can’t stand it! Oy. My poor father. I have like a bazillion readers that send me messages about him. My Dad, not the Penis Poster. They want to know if he reads the blog. And the truth is, he can’t. He just can’t. How can he? He is the most supportive father in the Universe. He loves me with all his soul, but for Goddesake…I don’t think his poor heart could survive The Truth Hurvitz.

But, fingers crossed please…the pilot is done, and being shopped this summer! Whoop whoop!! I didn’t tell anyone. I am kinda keeping it a secret…just in case it all goes to shit. Which it won’t. It just can’t. I have to think positive. I have the BEST people in LA working for me. Pulling for me, and they have my back. I mean, its come this far. Omg. I’m definitely keeping it on the DL, so if it doesn’t happen I won’t feel like a total ass. But if the pilot does get picked up….my DAD WILL WATCH MY SHOW! Yep. He will. And maybe, just maybe he will be my “plus one”. Ya know, if I’m ever like famous or some shit like that. He did put up with me writing this vulgarity for the past two years. Don’t you think HE should get my “plus one”?

Hmmm. Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it. (she said come). What a dirty-girl I am today. I must have sex on my brain. Or maybe I swiped right on a new guy, and I have a hot date…after all, nothing says”over it” like a NEW man. What?! Gotta keep on fucking! Shit. I meant trucking! I totally meant trucking, yeesh. Keep on trucking! ;)

xo j








The Selfie.




Pure enjoyment.

And if I get one more stupid-ass shot from a guy I don’t give a crap about, I just might lose my guts. Really! Last night, I was minding my own beeswax when I got a ping. So, I picked up my phone, and there was a text from a number I didn’t recognize. Ok, so I guess it’s my bad that I give my digits out to JDaters and Tinder-peeps across the US of A? But I do. And I am currently back on the sites, ok? Don’t judge me. I’m bored, and the last dude that was “soooo fabulous” just ended up being well, a bust. Kinda a bummer. He was a good guy, and a great catch. Just not for me. It happens. You date, you hook up…you hope it’s going to work out, and it doesn’t.

It’s my fucking life story.

And somewhere between drinks, and bleeding out in the hotel room, you decide it’s just not a “good fit”. Oh ya, we were hooking up…and I started bleeding like a stuck pig. Poor guy, he was literally covered in my blood from head to toe. Talk about bad luck. I had my IUD removed a couple days prior to our date, and it looked like a fucking crime scene. He was like, “Wow you’re really turned on!” And I was like, ummm no…that would be my uterus exploding. Great. Does this room happen to have a tourniquet? Can you call down for a cauterizer! Close me up, STAT. I swear, he asked me if I needed blood transfusion, or a ride to the ER. I wasn’t even embarrassed. I mean, at my age…who really gives a fuck? So what if I bled out all over a guy I barely even knew? I was just happy to be getting a free dinner, and a night in hotel. I love those little mints on the pillow. We snuck out of there so quickly the next morning, to avoid getting arrested. Housekeeping most definitely thought there was a murder in our room. I wanted to put down a body outline in yellow tape.

Great guy. We went out a few more times, but it’s clearly over. Maybe my Bloody, Bloody Vagina scared him away? Who cares. I can’t worry about it, and you know what they say…the best way to get over someone, is to get under somebody else! So, I’m back on the dating scene. Wasn’t that my point here? Yes. The ping! Last night, I got one. A text came in from this guy. It was a SELFIE. But not just any selfie, a picture of him sleeping. And not just sleeping, but sleeping half naked. And not just sleeping half naked, but sleeping half naked with his eyes closed. Ok, you get it. But, shit. He was holding a fucking TEDDY BEAR. That’s right, he was cradling a teddy bear to his bosom. Like a suckling baby, on his momma’s titty. Lord.

Now, listen to me. I don’t give a rat’s patootie if this loony bird was asleep with his fucking dog, or his kid… or his cat, ok? But he was asleep holding a large, stuffed BEAR to his breast! And his eyes were closed. Can you please tell me how he took a SELFIE with his eyes fucking closed? I was dying. I just stared at the picture. It’s just not right on so many levels. A guy, and his bear. I have nothing left to say. Don’t send me letters, telling me I’m heartless, or mean. Or call PETA telling them I don’t love animals. I hate cats, but I do love stuffed bears.

Why can’t I just find a normal guy?

Listen, I love taking selfies. I am the Selfie Queen. But I am real. I am wearing tons of lip gloss, and my head is usually cocked to one side. And my mouth is always wide open. And the caption probably says, “HOLLA!” I might send you one of me looking all silly or trying to be all stupid-sexy…but I can promise you this; I will not be half naked holding a stuffed bear. Well, I might be half naked…but never, ever will I be clutching a Muppet. ;)


xo j