fun….or not.

It’s been a year. One flipping year. Cinco De Mayo all y’all, will be the ONE year anniversary of my divorce. Well, since the final papers were signed anyway. Yuppers. Last year, on the Fifth of May I became legally single. Can you even believe it? That it’s only been a year? And look how much has happened! My life has changed so drastically, it’s insane. And I’ve made so many mistakes. I know, I’ve made a shit-ton of mistakes! But really, give a girl a break! Cut me a little fucking slack, ok? I mean, after a year of having a kid no one expects you to know how to raise it. After a year of med school, they don’t expect you to perform brain surgery!  After a year of anything, you’re just…well a year wiser. And that is it. So I need to take it easy on myself, and the rest of you need to lighten up, too. I’m new at this divorce thing, and after a year of being on my own I think I am doing just fine.

So there.

This morning, I was talking to my sister…she was the one who told me to stop beating myself up. Take a deep breath, and be proud of the woman I am right now. Where I have landed, and what I have accomplished in the last 12 loooonggg months. I have a pilot ready to shop, I have a house that’s all mine… and I have two boys that are happy. Wow. When you look at it that way, I think I am on the road to success. The world is my oyster! Ok, maybe if you measure “success” by your house, and your kids. But I am just grasping at straws here guys. Work with me! But truly, it’s only been a year! And sure, I had to up my meds, and sure…I had a few bouts of hysteria along the way. But wouldn’t you?

No wait, I’ll answer that for ya: you would. And it takes a strong person to get divorced. This whole thing rocks your world. And I’m not suggesting you should stay in a shitty marriage. (Don’t start sending me hate-mail) But I am saying think long and hard about it before you walk out that door. The struggle is real, the pain is real…the change in lifestyle is real. And if you think the grass is greener, think again. Now sure, there are circumstances that are out of your control. Your spouse cheats, or he’s a drug user. She’s abusive. The trust is lost. He walks out. I get it. But if you feel like ending it just because you don’t get that “warm and fuzzy” feeling every time the garage door opens, suck it up Buttercup. You will hate your life even more on the other side. Try dating the shitheads I met on Nothing “warm and fuzzy” going on there,  trust me. Well, except maybe their balls. Unless they shaved them, and in that case they were not warm, nor fuzzy. Just smooth and maybe room temp? Ugh. Sorry, Dad.

So, I have learned a ton in a year. And I’ve made HUGE mistakes. But I can only learn from them. I made stupid purchases thinking I had the money to spend. After all, I was accustomed to a certain lifestyle. I bought art I couldn’t afford, to support my friends. I put a sport court in my back yard to be “fun mom”. I had to compete with FUN DAD, after all! He kept the big house, so I just thought I should have something cooler. I mean, come on! Every kid needs a basketball court in their backyard, right? Wrong. And I traveled. I went wherever I could go to escape the aloneness I felt when I didn’t have my boys. Every week they were with Mark, I hopped a flight to nowhere. Or somewhere. Or anywhere. As long as it wasn’t here. I didn’t want to sit in my too-quiet house alone.

So I left.

I know you married folk don’t get it. And it’s okay. But I wish I could climb into your windows at night, and sprinkle “Happy Couple Dust” on y’all while you’re asleep. So you’d appreciate your marriages. You’d love harder, and be thankful for the person next to you. Marriage is tough. It sucks sometimes. It’s work. But I wish I had someone telling me all of this when I was with Mark. I wish I had blog to read, written by an HONEST chick that went through it. Fuck, I would have done it so much differently. But I’ll tell you this much for free. If I ever get another chance at it…this marriage thing. I won’t fuck it up.

I will do it right. I’ll learn from my mistakes. And I will live Happily Ever After. One year down and a lifetime to go…Happy Anniversary to Me. ;)

xo j




I am going to upset you.

Ok, maybe not all of you…

But some of you.

Maybe a lot more than some.

If you have a penis, you definitely won’t be happy.

I’m kinda saying “you” as in the general you…not like you-you. Not like I’m pointing a finger or some shit. Don’t think that’s what I’m doing. I’m not. I am just saying that most of you that read this blog entry might be upset by it. Ok? But I am annoyed, and when I’m annoyed…I tend to come here. To my blog, and write. Right? I sit, usually in my comfy chair…all comfy-uppy, and spit out how I’m feeling. Unless I’m at my office (Starbucks) and then, I’m not so comfy, but I’m caffeinated. Which is also a really nice thing, to be filled with that extra bit of energy when I’m on a tangent. Wow. So, I’m annoyed. And I’m sitting here, in my house. It’s Saturday night, and I’m alone…with a bottle, I mean a glass of wine. Wearing my sweats, and Uggs…ready to upset you. No idea why it matters what the fuck I’m wearing, to ruin your night. I guess I just felt like stalling. I am clearly stalling…trying to waste time, before I share this Goddess awful epiphany I have arrived at today.

Well, I better just say it. Here goes nothing….

Married men suck balls. 

OMG DID SHE JUST SAY THAT? It’s that MAN-BASHING bitch again! Like does she mean ALL married men? No, I actually mean all men. Not just the married ones. But I decided to give the single and divorced ones a break tonight. Fuck. What a bunch of dickheads. No, I’m sorry Mr.I’mUnhappyAtHome, you can’t text me. And no, Mr.SheWon’tPutOut, you can’t meet me for a drink. And NO Mr.I’mSoBoredICouldDie….you can NOT fly me to Aruba when you say you are on a business trip you piece of shit!! Fuck. I am done. Let me just fill you all in you married men, just because I have no ring on my finger…doesn’t mean YOURS IS INVISIBLE! Oh, I’m sorry, is this upsetting you? Are you mad, a little nervous? I’m actually giving your wives a head’s up? Well ya. Because in all honesty I am done. You are all so gross. I’m at the bar, and there you are. I’m on Twitter, and you stalk me. Or on Facebook. And you know exactly what you’re doing. And it’s not just me. I’ve taken a little poll, all y’all think you’re real cute. Guys, we are onto you. And so are your wives. Keep your dicks in your pants, and your rings on your fingers.

Listen, if you’re miserable in your marriages have enough balls to end it. Finish dinner, then have dessert. Go home, and tell your wives you are done. Have enough respect for her, and your children to finish what you’ve started. Have enough respect for yourself. Don’t say you’re staying “for the kids”. I did that. It doesn’t work, they know. They are smart, and they feel when you’re unhappy…doesn’t everyone deserve to be happy? And feel wanted, and loved? Including your wife? Yeesh. Life is too damn short to be with a person you don’t want to be with. I have sat recently with friends, leaving their spouses…scared, nervous…it’s the fear of the unknown. What will I do by myself? Who will take care of me? Where will I live, how about my kids…will we ever be happy, stable…okay?

And the answer is yes. Yes, yes… yes. You will all be alright. It takes time. It’s not easy. But you won’t be at peace if you stay in a marriage that is unsatisfying. Or loveless. Lacking intimacy. If you are searching to find happiness somewhere else. Not from a divorcee with a blog on Facebook…ya know? That shit will get you nowhere fast. Just be happy. I may sound preachy, and I’m starting to annoy myself a little…but it’s almost cathartic being able to write to you. Like this. I am finally, after a year of uncertainty…ok.

I’m at peace with my decision to get divorced. And I am happy. And still a little annoyed at you fucking married men who are all up in our shit. Go get happy, ok? And leave us Happily Divorced women alone! Oh, and P.S. If you are married to any of my friends…or my family members, you do not count. I love you, and therefore you are exempt from my hatred of married men. ;)

Thank You,

The Management. (that’s me)

xo j

New Year’s Eve.

Who doesn’t love New Year’s Fuckin’ Eve?
Only like the best night of the year. Really.
Get all dolled up. Hot dress. Hair done. Get your sexy-on. Take a water pill to get the excess bloat off from the Christmas carbs.
You are ready to go!
And you have extra-special reservations at the newest, hippest joint in town. Paid an arm and a leg, but who cares?!
It’s New Year’s Fuckin’ Eve! 

You wanna know what I did last year?
I was getting roofied at a swanky hotel bar in West Hollywood. And passed out on the bathroom floor by eleven. For reals. I wish I was kidding. But I’m not. I was at the Rose Bowl, in Cali with the best group of MSU boys this side of the Mississippi…or that side, depending on which state you are reading this from. Or country for that matter. I mean, if you’re reading this from Australia, then I guess who cares where the flipping Mississippi is, right? Shit. Let’s just say, the greatest group of guys on the planet!! I had just gotten separated, and I decided to take a trip. FOR ME. A me trip. Do you know what a “me-trip” is, girls? It’s a trip that you take just for yourself. You actually wake up one morning, get out of bed, and say, “Hello, (insert husband’s name here), I am going to be leaving for (insert place here), and that is that. Goodbye!” A “me-trip”. You don’t ask permission. You don’t see if it’s ok, or if it fits into HIS schedule. You simply go. You get the fuck up, and you go Daddy on him. You know, Daddy? The Danielle Steele novel where the main character literally leaves the Dad with the kids, and like never comes back. Just fucking up and leaves….buh-bye. haha. How many times have all y’all thought of doing that? Come on. Admit it. Well, I have. I’ve thought to myself, what would Mark do if I just left? Like took the car keys…and just drove off into the night. Never to be seen, or heard from again. Ya know? “Go Daddy” on him. Ya well, never happened. But a “me-trip” is the closest thing to a “Go Daddy”.
So, anyways, I left last New Year’s for Cali, and went to meet my bestest guy friends from MSU…and we had the greatest time at the ROSE BOWL! Whoop Whoop! It was my separation gift to myself. I used my own money. And just went. Alone. No friends from Charlotte, just me. My “me trip”. Something I would have probably asked to do before, but didn’t even batt an eyelash at this time. I just looked at Mark and said, “see ya”! And on NYE, I was at the bar, and low and behold….I put my drink down for all of 5 seconds, and I am 100% sure that I got roofied. Well, at least that’s what I’m assuming happened as I was texting one minute, and the next minute I was falling face first onto the floor. All I could hear was my friend Jason saying…”Jen…Jen…Jen!”
Good times. Just like MSU circa 1990. I was so proud…
And I got all dolled up. Hot outfit. Hair done. Clearly had my sexy-on. And made a complete and total ass of my newly-separated self….as I face planted on the W Hotel’s floor. Oh, and the EMS shining their little lights in my eyes, and taking my pulse was just an added bonus. New Year’s Eve was the BEST night ever! Not. Good thing the guys were close by to wake my ass up the next day so I could make the game. Go Green….Go White! I wanted to puke. And crawl under the bleachers. And I was just so happy that my friends didn’t make too much fun of me. They all were just probably feeling so badly for me…I was like this loser. Pathetic, and a hot mess. Little did they know, I was so happy to be there, that weekend.  Like the little sister, they dragged around…it was like the best time ever. Kinda like my coming out party! Even if I did get drugged. lol. Thanks, guys…you rocked. And Mark was such a dick. I called him, to tell him not to worry. I was fine, but nearly died the night before. Ok, a bit dramatic, but I felt like I had died. He was all but surprised. And could really give a shit. He said, “Only you, Jen. This shit only happens to you.” Just the confirmation I needed that I was doing the right thing. Separation is a GO. We have lift off…
So, now…it’s a year later. And so much has happened! omg. So what am I going to be doing this New Year’s you ask? Hmmmmm.
Well, I have options.
A trip to Savannah. With this boy. He’s fun. And funny. Not the same. Fun and funny. Two different things. So, he is both. Fun and funny. And hot. But I’m not going. Then, there is this invite I got to go to Boston. This other fella. Smart. Successful. Handsome. Not fun. Or funny. Not going. Ok, are you following me? There’s always my best friend’s house party. She is totally fun and funny. And I don’t give a rat’s ass what she looks like. lol. But she is lovely. And very pretty. Who cares. She knows how to throw a party. And cook, and she always has awesome drinks. And stuff. But I am probably going to be the only single person there. So who would I kiss at midnight? How embarrassing. So I am not going. No I am not. Oh, and her dog hates me, and always tries to eat me. I’m not kidding. I have no idea why I taste so good to her puppy….but I think it’s only me. I’ve never seen the dog eat anyone else! I’m doing to have to have a conversation with her about this. My friend, not the dog. Talking to dogs is weird. If I start talking to dogs, please lock me up.
Ok, so there you have it. I am staying home. I’m going to drink wine, and blog. How great does that sound?! A drunken New Year’s Fuckin’ Eve Blog! ha. I think there will be nothing finer than a blog that I post at the stroke of midnight. Genius. Think it’s too much? I thought of that just now. I mean, what are the actual chances that I’m up at midnight? I will probably be sound asleep by nine. I’m such a lightweight. If I start drinking my wine at like, seven-ish…I will never make it! Shit. I better make some of those little hot dogs, and man up! Dammit. My sister will be in her pi’s too, I think…I need confirmation, Julie. But if that’s true…I won’t feel like that big of a loser. If Mother Sketcher (my sister’s company, shameless plug) is sitting in her hotel room in South Beach on NYE, then The Truth Hurvitz can be alone, too. Although, somehow being in South Beach…with her hubbie, and kids…sounds a little more glamorous than being in Charlotte, no? New Year’s Eve is over-frickin’-rated. I have never liked it. Never. It’s so much pressure. So much hoopla! So much….
Nonsense. And noise. And kissing. And happiness. And yuck. Just drop the damn ball, Dick! Why do you have to be sooooo dramatic? We all know it’s going to fall. Yeesh.
I would much rather be in my house. Alone. Drinking myself into a drunken stupor, and writing my inner most thoughts. Hey, at least if I stay locked-in, there is zero chance of me getting roofied. Just me, Ryan Seacrest…and my laptop. This year, I’m laying low. Which is quite abnormal, but I’m ok with it. My boys are with Mark….and I am not going to cry over it. I am going to take advantage of it, and just chill. Anyone wanna join me? ;)
xo j
Happy New Year, all y’all! And here’s to great things for all of us in 2015! 

I am done.

Done with

Done with J-Date.

Done with anything that has a penis.

Ya, I know, I’ve said it before. And I’ll probably say it again…and again.

But I am totally over it all, for now.

Damn fucking guys. I swear, they are all so full of shit! The last one I went out with, had a girlfriend. True story. While he was on a date with me, his poor girlfriend was at home…doing the dishes. Probably thinking he was at the mall, buying her a nice pair of fuzzy slippers for Christmas. Or a slinky nightie. Or a new blender. Asshole. He was hanging out with me, being all fun…and witty,  and yummy. And I was loving it. Sucking all the bullshit up with a straw, while that stupid-twinkie was home, just siting there. Watching re-runs of Sex and the City, and planning her wedding. Jesus. What a loser. Him, not her. She is a fool. With a CAPITAL F-O-O-L. Fool. Him, loser. Her, fool. Me, done. Done with a fork in me. Dammit.

Which leads me to this question…

Are you a penguin? 

Don’t stop reading. I’m as serious a bad case of herpes, y’all. Just hear me out. Stay here, and listen. I was just told, that Emperor Penguins are the ONLY species in the entire Universe that are serially MONOGAMOUS. Yup. You heard me. They are. I Googled it, and it’s true!! Believe me if you want. Or just go with it, and shut the fuck up. Penguins only have ONE mate…and they stay faithful to her. OMG!! How dang cute is that? So sweet. I love it. I want to date a Penguin! Actually, when I was little….we adopted one at the Detroit Zoo. You can do that, you know? Adopt a bird. Or any animal you want. I think. Anyways, I digress…what I want you to ask yourself is…

Are you a fucking PENGUIN, or what? Ya know, are you capable of being monogamous? 

Cause listen, guys. I happen to know that is like physically impossible for you to keep your dicks out of a vagina. And I also believe that if you are not in your partner’s puss, then you will find another puss to put it in. Wow. Say that 5 times fast. And yes, I just said that. And yes, I believe it to be true. Men need sex. Penguins need sex. Human beings need sex. Duh. It’s just how we are wired. But the question I’m asking today is, can we as HUMANS actually have sex with just ONE person for our entire lifetimes? Ok. I’m putting it out there, because I know you have asked yourself the same question. Don’t lie. Admit it! I mean, really! Are we Penguins, or not? I say no flippin’ way.  My opinion. My blog. My first amendment right. Freedom of Speech. ha. Now, I do think, there are people out there that are “penguins”, sure. They actually take their marriage vows seriously, and sleep with the person (or penguin) they are assigned to. I’m sorry, that was harsh. The person they picked. And I commend them. You are amaze-balls. And you get a prize. What’s the prize, you ask? Well, Bob, the prize today for staying faithful to your partner is….

The person you love for all eternity. And a whole lot of respect from the rest of us. Kudos. Props. And dammit, I think that’s quite a prize. And I mean that with total and complete sincerity.

But some of us aren’t so lucky. Some of us are just born to stray. I actually read an article that said there is a gene for cheating. A cheating gene. Like a gene for blue eyes? Or a gene for hammer toe. Or, like a gene for red hair. Which in less it’s on a girl, might as well be hammer toe. It’s actually found in WOMEN. Men, you’re safe…for now. This gene affects how women process oxytocin, What is oxytocin, you ask? It’s the “cuddle chemical”, and it gives us what we need to be affectionate with our partners. It’s the hormone associated with LOVE AND BONDING! OMG you guys, that is it!!! I need more OXYTOCIN so I can be a better PENGUIN!! Thank you Huffington Post, you just saved me like 10 years of therapy. Where can I get this oxytocin shiz? Can I spray it up my nose, or sprinkle it on my cereal…or better yet, can I slip it in my new guys coffee when we meet on our next Starbucks date? Holy shit. I am missing that A-allele gene. That explains everything. Check please!

Could you even imagine? hahaha. On my next Match-date, the dude gets up to go take a piss…and I pull a vile of “love potion” out of my purse. I pour it into his drink, kinda like a roofie! But it’s all natural, and homeopathic. I sound like an infomercial. Wait, don’t they have this shit already? Can’t I just eat oysters. Or watch porn? NO, it’s a hormone imbalance. And I think…everyone must be affected. Yes. Cause Mark couldn’t stand me. He never wanted to be near me. He said I made his skin crawl…And there is NO WAY it was because I was a total douche bag! He must have been a little feminine, and carried the gene for anti-cuddling!! Hmmmm. lol. I am going to hell. You do know that, right?

So, I was lunching with one of my best girlfriends, and she asked me, “Is cheating like the new thing these days, or what?” And I seriously answered, “Yes”. I swear, every time I turn around…some one is fucking someone else. Or this one is having a threesome with that one. Or he is sleeping with her stylist. Or she is doing his best friend’s, brother’s…sister’s babysitter. And really, I don’t think anyone is even surprised anymore. Really! Are you? When you hear about your friend that got cheated on? Do you even react like you used to 10 years ago? Not me. It just seems like everyday stuff. Sad. But so true. And I think, my generation is just used to getting everything we want. We are so fucking entitled. Things aren’t worth working for, including our marriages. Or our relationships, we give up too damn easily. Move on for the next best thing. The BBD. The bigger, better.. deal. Well. what a crock of shit. You think it’s any better on the other side, with someone else’s crap? It’s the same crap, different person. Blah. Blah….blah.

Hey, I’m not saying stay in a shitty marriage. Hell, life is too short. But if you once had a “penguin”,  and it’s a relationship worth saving…maybe you can clean up the cage. Pick up some penguin-poop. Pop some oxytocin, and go to therapy?  lol. You get the gist.  And look, this is just one woman’s opinion. I know I’m not perfect. Hell, I’m not even close. But I will learn from the mistakes I made in my marriage. I’m finding me some of that “cuddle chemical”, and I’m going to inject it into my veins. Then, I’m going to give it to my next boyfriend…and lock him in my house, for all eternity. And he will be mine….all mine!!! (maniacal laugh….maniacal laugh!)

And you know what? It’s going to be Happy fucking Feet when I’m done, if it’s the last thing I do. Happy Penguin Feet. ;)

xo j