Babs. My idol. She don’t bring you flowers. Papa can you hear me? The biggest bitch on the block. Yup, you know her, and most of the world loves her. But the industry hates her! And why? Because she is a DIVA. A star. The best of the best. She says, who.. she says, when.. she says…who! And she rules the roost. But boy does she get a bad rap. And there are others: JLo, Beyonce, Hilary, Miss Piggy. Ok, you get the point. Bitches with backbone. Women with MOXY. Ladies who live by their own rules, and beat to their own drum..and don’t take a guy’s shit. Strong, independent, and they know what they want! Ballbusters. Control Freaks. And ya, I have been told by many, especially around golf season…that I fall into the above category. Jeez, that hurts.

So, I have been asking myself this question for years, internally. Well, to myself. I have been asking it, quietly in my head..oh my god, you what I mean! I have been thinking about it, ok!!! And now I’m asking you. Do all y’all think men just can’t handle TOUGH COOKIES? Women who have an opinion. Girls like ME. Women who are strong-minded, and say what they are feeling. Because, I can’t seem to find a guy who can well, “handle me” lately. Well I say lately.. but what I mean is, ever. I can’t find a guy who can handle me, ever.  And c’mon am I really THAT hard to deal with? (Mark, this is no time for rolling your eyes, or commenting.)

I just feel like men are babies. I have my shit. I admit it. I don’t eat green food. I don’t. I hate it. No green jello, or green beans. Not even a green Jolly Rancher. Nope. Not gonna do it. And I don’t like the cold weather. Or the heat. I like my body to be in a complete state of homeostasis. I like my food to be the way I like it. But so did Sally, and she fell in love.. you all saw it. At the end of the movie! Sally got Harry, and they kissed, and it was all happy and shit. And for god sake’s SHE was one high maintenance bitch! So, come on guys.. put up with my crap! And so what if I don’t cook. Fuck. I do other things to make up for it. I can dance. But I always have to lead. And do you really want a wallflower? Someone who just sits there, and nods her head.. and agrees with every thing you say? Borrrring. I tell it how it is. I don’t take much crap.  I am strong. I am tough. I’m from the D! And I can move mountains. And I never let anyone down. I get the job done!

But every now and then the cookie crumbles.. tough girls have feelings, too. We do. And sometimes, I think men freak out. They don’t have a clue what to do when Tough Cookies crack..

And I’m emotional. And scared. And sad. And sometimes,  I just want a guy to see that I’m super sweet, and I cry at the dumbest shit. Like..Kleenex commercials. And I am loyal, and I love my boys. And when I talk about them, even for a few minutes… my face changes. And right now, as I’m typing..I have tears in my eyes. I am not a bad-ass, I have feelings. And I want to be wanted. And I need to be held. And after my divorce, I’m insecure. So damn insecure. Why is it so hard for guys to see that I can let my guard down, but still be strong? And no, I don’t have my fucking period. I’m just sad. Do they want to be punched in the face? I swear, they do.

And I love to just act like a total dork, and be stupid.. and let the man lead. Ya know, guys can be really good at leading, if you give them a chance. I think, I could give a guy a chance. There has to be one out there, that can let me be me. And just “get me”. CAN’T ONE OF YOU DUMMIES JUST FUCKING GET ME?? I’ll give you a prize. It starts with a “J”!

Wow. I am a very complicated, cookie! Hard on the outside, and soft and mushy on the inside. I am getting flippin’ hungry. Shit. I need something to nosh on.. dammit. Focus, Jen.

So guys, I guess the question is.. how do you like your cookie? Tough, or mushy…anyway but tossed, I’m sure? ha.

xo j

Well, this is gonna be a doozie!

So pull up a chair, all y’all…

Where to begin?

I have a hard time getting all my thoughts in order.

Are you surprised? I just have so much to say, so much to talk about…and I want to tell it all. All of it. Every last bit of bullshit that is crammed in my head, so sit tight..and hold on for the ride. Take a Tums, if you get nauseous. Dating after marriage just isn’t as yummy as I thought it was going to be. In fact, it makes me kinda wanna puke. Don’t worry, I’ve changed all the names to protect the innocent, ok? Like I would ever actually out the douchebag that told me he had a “live-in” girlfriend after we went out 3 times? Come on, Corey. I know it totally slipped your mind. I would NEVER do that. Or would I? After all, “The Truth Hurvitz” don’t it?

So, I’ve been “legally separated” here in good ole Charlotte for about 8 months. Ok, that’s a lie. It’s been …like 20 minutes, but who’s counting? In my head it’s been like 2 years. Sorry Mark, but I want to get a man after this, and I want you to meet a nice girl…settle down, and live happily-ever-after. Puke. Get the barf-bag! Focus, Jen. Pull it in. Here we go…

Ok, so… I figure it’s time to DATE.

How do you date after you’ve been married for 12 years? OMG. Like get back out there. Go out with a new man, and talk about your entire life? And my kids. And what I love to do, and listen to all his crap.  Act fake. Or real. Get naked? I have scars. Jesus. All kinds of scars…emotional, and real. Can we keep the lights off? Fuck that, turn them on! I want to see what I’m looking at…after we talk for hours on end. About all the in’s and out’s of day-to-day life. Blah, blah…blahhhhh. FUN!!! omg, So fun! I am like SOOO good at that!! Bring it on! I’m like the best blind-dater ever! And when I was a slut back in my 20’s, I dated the entire world.. and I could totally rock it out! Shit. Wait, but now…I’m old. And 40-ish. And I’m a total loser. And I have no life.

But my sister Julie made me a list. A list of all the things I’m NOT allowed to talk about on a first date. I call it, my “What You’re NOT allowed to talk about on a FIRST DATE List“.  Good name, right? If we could just shorten it to, NO talking about: the kids, the ex’s, or the finances. Phew. That’s easy enough. One guy I went out with actually brought a cowbell on our first date. And every time I slipped, he would ring it. Fucking loved that. Takes a huge set of balls to pull that off with me! Note to self: liked that boy. I really did. Funny is good. But is funny good enough? Guess not. He dumped my ass. He just didn’t “get me”.  Or that’s what I told myself. And do you think it didn’t hurt? I forgot what “breaking up” felt like after 12 years of marriage. Fucking sucked. But after a divorce, nothing hurts. Shit, it was easy in comparison. I could take anything after what I’ve been going through. So listen up “Cowbell guy” I’m just fine. I will survive.

So, my girlfriends have started to name the guys I’ve gone out with, hence, “Cowbell guy”.  We talk in code. One guy was nice enough to tell me he had genital warts. So we call him “Wart Boy”.  I am chuckling. That was so kind of him, was it not? I’m sure my girls are dying right now. Lord knows, I am thankful for his honesty. WHAT THE HELL? Like I was going to go out with him after that? Like, “Oh Corey, thank you so much for sharing, (pun intended) can we go out next week?” Are you high? I think every new divorcee should get the HPV shots. Just putting it out there. I’m not a doctor, but I do think I am. And I think all women should respect their bodies. After all, we are all Temples of God. I’ve clearly been living in the South for far too long. Bless.

And do you kiss on the first date? Do you put out? Do you pay… do you drive your own car? What do you do! Who has a book about this crap? Should I wear my good thong, just in case, or my shitty one… so I don’t look like I was “trying too hard”? Or maybe I should shave my legs, I mean for the love of Goddess… I need to shave, right? And what if he has food in his teeth, do I pick it out? I would tell Mark, I would! But not some guy I don’t even know. And I am not shy, I tell it how it is! If I hate you, I am not staying. Life is too short, I’m fucking 41 with 2 kids, and now I can be picky. I need to take my time. I am sweating even typing this. I just want to have FUN. I want to be happy. And enjoy some one’s company. Stress-free. And at 41, I’m not changing who I am. This is it, take it or leave it.

Why is life so flipping hard? Isn’t dating supposed to be more exciting  than being married? I kinda thought that was the point of all this…trying to find a guy who I get along better with than my ex? Am I the only one that feels this way? I love this blog thing. I can rant and rant… and no one stops me…or tells me I’m annoying. Kinda nice.

To Date or Not To Date: I guess that is MY question. And I am just going to have to figure it out all by myself.

Now, who wants to go out tonight? I’m totally free…and I even have a new leopard thong! ;)

xo j

Well here goes nothing. And here goes everything…
Everything, and nothing…all rolled up into one, simple, self-deprecating…self-healing, self-righteous, self-soothing…BLOG. A blog. What the fuck is a blog, anyhoo? Who named it, or made it up.. or decided it was going to be something? Rhetorical people. I don’t really care. I don’t. I just think it’s stupid. But for all intents and purposes, I guess it’s what I have to use these days, to say whatever it is I want to say, or bitch about. So, I will blog it up! I will do it. I am doing it, right now. Fingers don’t stop.. go, go goooo! But here are some rules, k?


  1.  I will only do this if you like it. Well, if you don’t hate it.
  2.  I will only do this if all y’all don’t talk too much nasty-ass shit behind my back. That’s kinda mean, and really, don’t you think I’ve been though enough? I’m doing this for your enjoyment, fuckers.
  3. I will only do this, if you promise not to get too raunchy and gross. This is NOT a pornsite. Or a brothel.
  4.  I will only do this if you don’t critique my spelling or grammar. I suck. I can’t spell, or punctuate. I can’t type. And if Liz Newman were here, she would probably plotz! (I need you girl!)


Ok, that’s it. Love it or leave it! I am going to write how I talk. It is what it is.. and if you know me, you know one thing. I tell it like it is! If you don’t like it, don’t read it.
So, I will ask for topics. Or comments. Or just put stuff out there.. or what’s on your mind. It will be an interactive blog! And my ADHD will just make it all the more fun. I can honestly say, cause y’all know I don’t bullshit…this might just be exactly what I need to get through this divorce. Maybe, just maybe, this “mid-life crisis” crap can be doable if we all do this together? Like do it, with support from each other. Not do each other. You know what I mean. Dammit.
Oh, and for those of you who don’t know me, my name is Jennifer HURVITZ Weintraub. I’m newly separated at 41 years young. And I have two of the most amazing boys on the planet. I’m also lucky enough to have one of the best EX-hubbies around. I think people don’t believe us, that we are friends. Like there has to be a big “story’. But we just hated being married. And I was a shitty wife. And he was a sucky-ass husband. But we did ONE thing right. We were amazing parents. And that is that. We just love our kids. And had enough chutzpah to admit our marriage was over. Done.
Life is not a bowl of cherries. It’s been a rough 12 years. In fact, the past year has been one of the worst ever.  But hey, they say G-d gives you what you can handle. I am obviously one bad-ass mo fo, cause I am still standing. Wavering, but still up. Ok, maybe I dropped a few times. But come on. Gimme a little break?
Cue “Eye Of The Tiger”.. .I feel a mantra coming on. Music. And fade to black. Damn I’m good. ha.
I think I’m gonna dig this blogging thing. ;)