So you know I’m a real person, right?
I have a family.
I have a house.
And a car, and dogs…
I am real.
So why the fuck do you keep doing stupid shit that makes me want to stop blogging all together? I mean, c’mon? Why?! Let me just tell you what happened the other day, ok? I swear, I can’t make this shit up. Well, I could. And then, maybe you would think I wasn’t real enough. And you would call me out on my wall. And write crap like, “Oh, Hurvitz. I thought you were real…but you are so not!” Really. I can’t win for losing. If I spill my guts, you call me “over the top” and “out there”. But if I don’t share every last detail, or I actually keep something private, then I’m “fake”, or “full of shit”. I am a person. Not a character in a book, I have feelings, and emotions. I am a mother. And I don’t do this blogging shit to make money, or to get off. I do it, because it is fun. And when it stops being fun…
Then I’m going to stop blogging. And this girl you all think is tough-as-nails, will vanish before your eyes. Just like that.. Poof. And I’ll find a job selling Botox. Or working at Starbucks. Do you know they get free coffee while they are on the job? wow.
Let me tell you what happened…
I got this message. It was in my in-box. Not in my box. My in-box, sluts. And it made my skin crawl. It was nice, kinda. I mean, if you like stalkers. Caring, and thoughtful. From a “fan”. But this “fan” decided he or she wasn’t comfortable enough writing as themselves. So they made a new Facebook account, with a fake name. Ok, ummmm. Weird. And creepy. At first, I just thought it was funny. And I laughed it off. I called my sister, and my friends. I asked around, thinking someone would fess up. I accused my Dad. I thought for sure it was Art. Nope. So, I chalked it up to someone in my life being a big, fat…fucking pussy. Yup. Like who isn’t man, or woman enough to say something to my face? Bitch please. If you need to create a fake name and profile on FB, then you are not right. But this was kinda whack? The content of the message was about my new relationship. The he-she was warning me to “take it slow” and not fall in love so fast…which I greatly appreciated. But COME ON!!! Which one of my real friends can’t say that to my face, y’all! Holy shit balls. As I think about it more, I start to fucking freak the freak out. And if you’re going to make up a name, can you please choose something better than Ilene? Not that I dislike the name Ilene. But if I had a chance to have a pseudonym, it would be like Tatum…or Apple. Or something insanely sexy like, Roxy Giselle. Yes. That is gushing with sex appeal. Hot.
From now on, please refer to me as Roxy Giselle Hurvitz Weintraub. Ha. I am cracking up. You know, I laugh when I get nervous. One of my many bad habits. I chuckle at totally inconvenient times, if I get anxious. Like at funerals. Or when I’m being yelled at. Yikes. Or when I get pulled over for speeding. I laugh. Me and my sister get in trouble all the time, cause we laugh when we aren’t supposed to, sorry Mom. But Helen’s funeral was funny. The organ person was the worst, and I couldn’t stop, my bad. So, obviously I am nervous. I mean, wouldn’t you be if some he-she named “Ilene” was messaging you bat-shit crazy stuff to your box? What if I start getting hate mail. Or death threats. Or some loon makes Hurvitz action figures, and sells them on the black market?! OMG. What is happening??!!! Ya, I know… it’s part of the job. Wait, wait. Part of what job? I didn’t sign up for this job! I am just a girl from Detroit, living my life in Charlotte now…minding my own business. And sharing my life on a blog….
Hmmm. Part of the job. Comes with the territory. Signed up for this shit. Did I really? I mean, did I ask for this craziness? I guess, I have to get used to it. And understand that to some people that don’t know me in “real life” The Truth Hurvitz is like a fantasy world. And I’m just a character. You are reading a story, of a woman’s life in Charlotte. A girl named Jennifer, that just got divorced…and has all kinds of insanity going on! And those of you who know me, know me… like for real, can hear me talking, and know what parts of my blog are the “truth” and what parts are embellished, am I right? Wow. I get it now. Do you? Am I confusing you, cause I am totally on the same page…I hope. I think we just need to get to know each other better. That’s all. So everyone can tell what is real, and what is not. And let’s get one thing straight. I AM REAL. While some of my stories might be embellished, this chick is not. Please remember that, ok? Get with the program, all y’all! New peeps, you might have to go back a few entries to catch up!
Hi, I’m Jennifer Hurvitz welcome to The Truth Hurvitz! My blog. Where I say anything I want to say, and you can like it…or leave it. But, truth be told…I hope you like it. And you never leave it. You stick around for a really, really long time. Oh, and don’t send me whack messages to my in-box. Unless they are love letters. Or book deals. Or you want me to DJ your kids Bar Mitzvah. Thanks, Ilene…you are a dear. ;)