I’LL BE BACK. I typed that in my best Terminator voice. Arnold Schwarzenegger would be proud, if he wasn’t busy having illegitimate children with the staff.
OH MY GOD, GUESS WHAT?
I’m still here.
I can’t believe it either.
I have so much to tell you but my brain is in overdrive and my fingers can’t keep up and they’re all SLOW THE HELL DOWN, STUPID CEREBELLUM, and my brain is all OH YEAH? WHY DON’T YOU COME OVER HERE AND MAKE ME, YOU STUPID DIGITS and my fingers are all OH YEAH? COME OUT FROM BEHIND THAT SKULL AND WE’LL SEE HOW BIG YOUR BALLS ARE and my brain is all OH, GAME ON! YOU LITTLE PIECES OF … WAIT. I HAVE BALLS?
I’m typing this with eight fingers now because my two middle ones are busy flipping my cerebellum’s genitalia the bird.
Look at that! I still manage to fit some derivative of the word “genitals” into a post that has nothing to do with sex. See? I’m still me.
THAT’S A GOOD THING.
Just in case you were wondering.
There is no way I can use one blog post to fill you in on all of the unholy crap that has gone down in the last couple of months so for now, I’ll just hit the highlights:
- I am getting a divorce.
- Divorce sucks the big wazoo.
- So does discovering that your marriage was essentially a Jerry Springer/Law & Order SVU combo
episode seasonDVD boxed set in the making.
- I’m not sure where rock bottom is, never having visited it myself, but if Nate’s sense of direction is accurate, I’m thinking it’s about 45 miles due south of Hell. I’ll let you know when he hits it.
- It took me a long time to even think about the word “divorce” let alone type it out loud without crying my guts out.
- *splat* <———- a gut, splashing on my big toe.
- For the record, I’m not entirely sure what a wazoo is.
- I went back to work full time as a paralegal in a downtown law firm.
- I am dealing with all kinds of unbearable stress by buying 637+ pairs of shoes.
- Some of the shoes in my closet have five inch platform heels.
- That is seven different kinds of WHAT THE HELL, ANDY?
- So say my feet.
- Two weeks ago, I wore tights for the first time in my life.
- They are exactly like pantyhose except that now, it costs me twice as much to enjoy the sensation of the crotch migrating its way to my knees by noon.
Right now, I am trying to finish my Christmas shopping sometime before Valentine’s Day but I’ll be back soon because when all is said and done, I miss writing my blog.
Really, really miss it.
And while I can no longer write about my marriage to Nate without gouging my eyes out with a spork, I’m confident that life won’t always suck like it does at the moment. This is not the end of my story but simply the end of a chapter. And hopefully, this horribleness will be over soon and my new life will begin and I can sell the rights to my insane life story to Pixar and they’ll make an animated movie of my life and it will be their first R or NC-17 movie and parents will unwittingly take their kids to it because hello? It’s Pixar! And three minutes in, they’ll be shielding their children’s eyes and screaming for their money back so they can pay for therapy and their kids will be crying MOMMY! WHY ARE CREATIVE JUNKIE’S BRAINS EXPLODING ALL OVER THE SCREEN? CAN I HAVE MORE GUMMY BEARS?
My new life will inevitably breed all sorts of new stories and I expect it won’t be too long before I have blog fodder out the ying yang, such as my suspicion that instead of working on her college application essay, my eldest daughter is busy writing my online profile for eharmony.com.
Maybe by the time I’m actually ready to date, I’ll know what a wazoo and a ying yang is.