10 minutes, Oh, excuse me, 100. NBD.

peep.pngThis April, I was blessed enough (I had to put that in there, because I can’t stand when people #blessed) took the minis to sunny FLA.  More on all of the deets of the trip, our doings, getting yelled at, the one time bigs almost drown (well, one time I saw), flooding the kitchen, etc etc, but first, lemme tell you about a trip we took to the ole Animal Kingdom.

It was day 2 of what shall be known as our “Disney Excursion.”  Listen, I am NOT a Disney person (not saying they are weird, but they are, I have never seen so many adults dressed up in fucking costumes when it is 98 degrees, except for that one time I went to a drag show and that actually seemed more approp than these people just walking around with ears on their heads and matching “family vacation” T shirts  it is just not my gig). Again, more on all of that later, but, let’s just start with a lil safari we took.

Apparently there are “do’s” and “don’ts” to the Disney parks. I have no idea what any of them are, because I am a pretty bad parent and didn’t read about any of this stuff, but seems like this “Safari” is on the solid “Yep” list.

My general “order” to these parks (and, my life in general TBH) is “Ohhh, let’s just go in, and we will see what we find, I bet we will like something, and if we see a monkey, roarsome.”  Ok, ok, I suppose when you are dropping some serious Disney dollahas on this, you may want to, oh, idunno, see if there is an app for that or something, but again, I didn’t.  (Sidebar, it is more like I can’t, I can’t plan every second of my life, and to plan even a single second of vacation, is just everything I am not, interesting fact, Disney parks average 52,000+ people a day.  Ever stood in line with that many people? Right.).

So, as we are wondering around aimlessly, trying to find a tiger to pet (did you know that is frowned upon? What the fuck are they there for then? To “look” at? Lame.). I stumble on this safari (literally, one too many AM sangria).   Oh! I totally have a déjà vu moment and am like “I think this is on the heeellllyep list.”

Now, you need to understand, that the parks put up these signs (for us assholes who don’t fastpass because they just can’t deal) and it tells you your wait time.  I would say they are pretty accurate….. I see a sign that looks EXACTLY like this for the Safari.1

There is only a 10 minute wait for someone to take me on a Safari and drive me around Africa for 22 minutes.  Done. Sign me up.

OK, I am not very smart, totally on board with that, but when 41,000 of the 52,000 people at the park are in the same fucking line, it is not a 10 minute wait.  I literally see people coming in with coolers and imma like “huh? 10 minutes you say?”  But the thing is, once you are in these lines, you are kind of locked in. And by “kind of” I mean “totally fucking”  And I am still thinking 10 minutes…  Dudes, I have no fucking clue. Disney V card right here.  So we are in line for about 20 minutes (which I feel like is longer than 10, but again, I am not very smart) when I send Pie this text.

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THEY RAN OUT OF FUCKING ZEROS??????  How for fucks sake does that actually happen????? Can we sidebar how patient Pie is that I send him like 86 of these a day, AS IF HE CAN FIX IT?!?!?!?  I hate myself.

Fast forward, fast forward, we get on what seems like a standard safari vehicle (because obvi I know). And I’m all like “Can we get a bartender here? I just waited for ten minutes one hundred minutes.”

OK, so imma tell you a lil Disney secret.  When you finally make it on the truck, you know, for the Safari, there is a “good” side and a “bad” side.  Guess which one I picked.

So the mini one and I saw a ton of awesome stuff.  Like this:

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Giant piles of shit. Lots of them.

 

This was pretty fantastic too.  A giant pile of heeeeyyyyyyyyyy……

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There may have been some animals on the left side, but I could not see past this guys hat, which was fine, because,  I only waited 100 minutes.  I should note too, that at this point, every “animal” that the driver “points out” MJ yells (and I mean YELLS)  “DOGGIE, WOOF” or “IS DAT A REINDEER? WHERE IS SANTAS FAT BELLY?” So people were less than impressed with us. Shocking.

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Good news is, they got this sign correct. Which is awesome. And I had a bangin view of it.

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So, as you can imagine, I was already pretty fucking jazzed with this hot spots we had seen on safari, when the driver was like “PEOPLE ON THE RIGHT, THIS IS THE BEST THING YOU ARE GOING TO SEE!!!!!”

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A fucking termite hill.  You can’t make this shit up.  At this point I jumped up and was like “WOOOOFUCKINGHOO, I LOVE TERMITES.” Because, ya know.

As we rounded the corner to end our 22 minute drive that we did not wait in line 10 minutes for, the driver is like “People on the right, people on the right, there is an animal on your side!”

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You can’t even make this stuff up people.  You really can’t.

 

 

Flawless Execution, 1.1

windiwSo the minis and I took off for our first solo adventure via aero-plane together.  Wait, I think? There may have been more that I blacked out forgot. This is embarrassing. I actually have no idea if we have done this before.  All I can remember right now is that one flight I took with the former Mr. Nara, when I was like 85 months pregnant with peewee and had a 2 year old Quinn, and got upgraded to first class and HE TOOK MY FUCKING UPGRADE.  We got off the plane in Phoenix and he was HAMMERED, and I legit was like “Yea, peace.” I still find it strange sometimes things didn’t work out with us.

Anywoot, I am up and at em at like 4am….. Thank goodness brother had a solid nights sleep like a so

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He sleeps ACROSS me…. No, Pie, no.

(I texted Pie at like 5am like “Listen, super into you, but if you do this, straight to the trundle, pick your poison.”) That makes exactly one of us (no joke, when I woke up bigs, he was like “no, 5 more minutes”)…. DUDE, I AM TAKING YOU ON VACATION!?!???!  Anyholla. Off we go to the airport.

Right now, you are like “wha-wha-wait, Pie?” No pausing people, this is about me. And there are some things I don’t share. Not saying Pie is one of them, just saying. Wait, I don’t share Pie…. Or share about. This is all coming out wrong, what I am saying is I won’t share Pie or share details about Pie. #inphoneaspie

It is standard April vacation crowded, however, interesting fact, when you travel as a legit frazzled single mom of two mini boys, people feel so bad for you they let you cut them and are all like “GET THE FUCK THROUGH THE LINE AND AWAY FROM ME” are generally a bit more understanding.  Case in point….  Getting through security was like this:

Security: Are you traveling alone with those two animals? Are you being held hostage? Exactly how sedated are you

Me: Yep.

Security: (Literally, as they take down those rope barriers) “Oh, I am so sorry, you can go right through the center of the line to the front” (there was honest to god another person waving me down, like “OVER HERE, WE WILL SAVE YOU”)

Me: OK.  I would almost like rent a child if I was traveling alone just to get to the front of 9000 people.

Things were going oddly smoothly until I got the token full search (every time, every fucking time, and this time it was not even a full size bottle of shampoo or drugs that did it). Even when I travel solo with like a laptop and a chapstick, for the day, they are like “Stop right there lady.”

Once we make it through my strip search, the minis are hangry.  Fair enough.  Oh, and this is happening…

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Don’t let us stop you, just getting strip searched.

Honest to god, NOTHING can interfere with this child when he is in the zone. I get it dude, I do…… So, we hop into the 45 minute dunkin donuts line to get them bagels, and obvi, they don’t have them…… Brother is now crying because apparently that is the only food he will eat and if he doesn’t have it now is likely going to starve (listen, I get this too, he is my mini and must be fed every 4-5 minutes). Make it to the gate, and honest to god, I am in shock that things are sort of going ok, when both minis give the standard “I have to poop.” You know how some people will only poop at home, I swear, the minis will only poop in public….. I am all like “welp, gunna have to learn how to hold it because we are boarding in 14 seconds.” They tell me they can’t so I am all like “welp, go in your Spidy undies” because I KNOW there is not a shot they will shit in those (Paw Patrol, sure, Spiderman, fuck nope).

We line up to load onto the plane, and I am all like “Oh, who is going to sit next to the window” (Sidebar, I am HONESTLY so fuckin dumb sometimes that it actually hurts me, why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?)…. And at the same time they are like “MEEEE!!!! And mommy, I need to be next to you.” Both of them. Samsies.  Literally samsies. This wouldn’t normally be a problem, because they generally can’t wait to get away from me, but this time, the guy behind us, was like “Oh, you know that this plane is 2 and 2 seats.”  HA. I already see where this is going…. I am leaving one child with a stranger, that is where.  This is also the time that I find out that this bird doesn’t have wi-fi, and I am like “So, ah, littles, want to go to Mobile, Alabama, I mean, I have no idea what is there, but they have wifi.”

I bribe the big guy to go sit with another family across from me, (honestly, he is such a teenager now, that I think he wanted the chicks on the plane to think he was traveling alone, at age 8.  Yup.).  Brother is emptying the ENTIRE contents of his “Fyida” bag out and Bigs is watching ESPN (come on) and I’m like “So, what time does the bar on this thing open?”. The stranger woman I dropped bigs off with is like “They are BOTH yours, wow you are so brave to travel alone.” Like as if I could be like “Little one, you didn’t make the cut, back to 01945, I am sure you will be fine fending for yourself.”

So, upon landing, we hit go on a search and rescue to find the car, nap

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Don’t poke the bear.

(them, notta me) hit up the pool and then the local “Publix.”  OK, for those of you peasants like me, at this place, they walk you out to your car (amirite?) and the guy walking us was like “You got three kids” (because ya know, one is invisible except to Publix guy)…. And Imma like “nope, just dos” To which he says “THEY MUST DRIVE YOU FUCKING CRAZY.” Honestly, can’t make this up.  Cuz everything is bigger in the south.

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Why I will never online date, part 2. Right?2? No?

Here’s the gig.  I legit 100% slammed the brakes on online dating. Why? I already have enough fucking crazy in my life, I don’t need to be swiping to find the next Mr. Nara, when I could be at the shelter looking for cats. I dunno.  It just isn’t me…. I don’t want to go to a random bar, and meet some random guy, and assume shit is just going to work out.  Do you know who I am? I still can’t figure out how to make the lights on my car go back to “auto” you HONESTLY think a Tinder date is going to work out for me? Solid nope.   I am holding out for meeting in the produce aisle and someone being all like “Wow, you ALSO like cucumber, we are a 10 match.”  Oh shit. I grocery shop online.  Ha.  So much for a produce match. Anyhoo.

However, the hilarity of online dating lives through some of my BFF’s.  For example, can we talk about one of my GF’s who was “talking” to this guy, and all of the sudden, there is a question of height.  AND HE IS FIVE FOOT FUCKING 2 INCHES.  Listen people, that is how tall I am, and I am a very short person.  I was all like “Oh, so he wears those shoes that make you look taller, no, those are super cool. I mean, looka how well they work for Tom Cruise.

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Seems like a match. Go for it, if, ya know, you are into little people

I am sorry, what the actual fuck.  There is a reason he is online dating. BECAUSE HE IS HOPING HE DOESN”T GET ASKED HOW SHORT TALL HE IS.  I bet he does get asked “So, how short are you?” like, slip of the tongue.  Womp.

Moving on to online date #2. GF shows me pictures of this guy, and it went something like a so…..

Me:  Yea, I don’t like him at all.  (I at the very least admit that I am judgy).

Friend: Why?

Me (judger): He is super fucking boring.

Friend: But that is just his picture, and he is nice.

Me (bitch): No, no he isn’t, he is boring. He makes me want to take a nap right now (ok, to be fair, I was so gassed after having a crayyy week, that anything made me want to nap, but this guys profile picture was like a “Contacts out, NAP.”)

Well, dontcha know, they go on a date…. So, the next morning, we are all laying making sure we do nothing productive….  chatting… When immma like “OMG, how was your date with the most boring person in the entire universe?” And then we went like a so:

Friend:  Um, it was good. He’s nice.

Me:  Uh-huh, did he look like his pictures (listen, “nice” means the same thing for men or women… Like, yea, he’s “nice” so boring I stabbed myself and jumped into the pizza wood burning fire for fun.”)

Friend:  He, um. No. No, he didn’t. He was…

Me: Oh, like the old “The pictures are from 5 years ago.”

Friend: Yep.

Apparently the worlds most boring person forgot to mention this.

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See, see people, there are just TWO reasons that I want a million cats won’t online it.

Now, I did have a few superhot dates this weekend……. Areyouret?

One was for family taco night. Here’s how that date went.  Within 8 seconds I had locked my keys in my car (Legit, I should never be unsupervised).  Good news, I left the sunroof open and we tossed a few lil people (not midgets, and not date #1 from above, but I guess that would have worked too, actual young people) through the sunroof.  Yup. All class, all the time.

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Next date, was with one of my BFF.  I took her to the dump……  Yup.  She is running Boston (right now, holla #30581) and such as it is, she had a bit of pre-run nerves (like how I say that as if I know?….. Clearly I don’t.  We were all actually discussing today how I would not run the .2 miles for anything less than genuine street tacos. And even then, .2 seems far).  Anyhoo, I had to hit up the dump, so off we go…. Right, lemme tell you people, this place is a HOT SPOT, because the line was down the street (I’m actually not kidding about that part)…. I’m not sure if it was the shot out, taped up windows (also not kidding) or the clientele of said dump, but the place was popping.  Lots of people from 01945 still had to dump their Christmas trees.  Truth. I was disappointed to only get hit on yelled at once, by the guy I hit with a rather large branch. Apparently you shouldn’t throw those.  I’ve never really been a “rules” person.

The last hot date of the weekend, was one that actually should have been video taped by E for my upcoming reality show  censored. You know, when you have that one friend who when you are together, basically everything is funny and someone pees their pants? Right, well, that is my 1.png

(did I forget that I also identify people with emojis.  Yea, true)…..

So, uni and I decide to go shopping for our kiddos panties.  I mean, why not? First things first, this weekend, likely because I did not have my own cherubs, screaming, crying children followed me.  Those fuckers had my number.  Let’s not act like this was any different.  There were many exchanges of “If that asshole follows me, I am taking out my flask leaving.” Well, dontcha know those dinks follow us to the skivvies.  So, in such, imma like “Unicorn, do you like this thong, or this thong.” CPS frowned upon that one.

So, as you can see, I am really crushing it in the world of dating. Hold on to your seats for more deets about my friends who are ok with super short people where that goes.

Apparently when I am super busy, I am still a hot ass mess….

My girlfriends have been all up in my chach, my greatest supporters of le blog (it could actually be because they are often times featured in it, and want to stay on my good side, but I think it is because they think I am pretty and funny and love me more than they love wine). I was thinking about writing all week, but once a year, we have our really important people from the world come visit us, and I have to work super hard, (I mean, not like I only work once a year, but I suppose, I work kind of harder that one time a year. Ish. Yearish).

However, because we hole up in a room for 15 hours a day then eat and drink for another 5  work essentially around the clock during this week, I have not had too many funny things happen. I mean, there was my dress being too tight yesterday and having to get unzipped, but that is just embarrassing and I would not want to write about it.  There is also the time that I said to my big BIG boss, in front of these global smarties, we are “black” when I meant “back” and he was like “Whoa, we are not black.” And i was like “Yea we are.” There was also that one  drunk conversation with these international experts, legit, experts, about my tattoos.  Here is a snapshot of my week, Legit (this is honestly from when I stepped away for like 2 hours).  If I acknowledged you this week, then you are wow.

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And yes, again, everyone has names in my phone. If you are in there as like “Kevin” I don’t like you, just understand it. Every group has names, some of them are like “DON”T ANSWER THESE ASSHOLES” cuz, ya know.

So, my gentle reminders that things were still pretty a-ok.

Reminder #1

Remember, when I was making pasta last weekend for everyone, and after a few too many bottles glasses of wine, I thought this was funny.  FUNNY RIGHT?!!?!

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Reminder #2

There are only certain people who can call you slore, but when they do, you own that shit.

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Reminder #3

My phone broke and I have no idea how. It isn’t because I dropped it in water then threw it at a wall when I lost a client at work. I am not positive.

However, when it broke, it would randomly text, message, email, FB respond, etc etc people.  And that was not annoying or embarrassing at all. See.

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and then the fix, that was not actually a fix…… annoying

 

As a side note, if anyone knows how to work an iphone, more than my “I can turn it on most of the time.” I will pay a hefty fee for you to make this new one work.

Reminders #4-784346

Listen, we like tacos. It is FACT.  But “taco night” isn’t about tacos. It is about being together, and being friends, and being outside, and having moments as your “framily” because that is the shit that rules.  And after a week like this one, when you have missed SO much, you just need taco night. So, there were about a million messages about taco night.  A small sampling of the best.

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Stay tuned for what I am sure will be an eventful taco night.  To call the 01945 FD or not? Next week, the minis and I pop down south for what I am sure will be a complete and total shit show and a miracle if we all make it back legit flawlessly executed vacay.  To blog or not to blog. Dumb question, have you seen the three of us together?????!!!!!

 

 

Weekend in review…. I think.

I thought that for today’s blog, I would do a recap of the weekend.  Then I was like “dear fuck, did I black the ENTIRE thing out?” wow.  What did I do anyway? So, I did what I do, and went through my pictures, and was like “Wow, my friends spend a LOT of time with me in either pajamas or Lulu.” That’s. Embarrassing.  So, a recap of the weekend.

Friday, peewee had his art show.  If you have never been to one before, this is when the parents have to pay $50 for a piece of “art” that they would normally pay zero for to throw out the minis get to display their art. The show is held in a hallway, and it is so claustrophobic that I want to be like “HERE IS MY FUCKING CHECKBOOK, IM OUT.”  There is music and the kids really like it.

Anyway, the mini one has been BEGGING for me to “give him swimming lessons.” Which is actually hysterical because I honest to god can’t swim. I don’t think I took a swimming lesson, I think I took a (literally, single) drowning prevention class.  It retrospect, it is weird, because I grew up on the water and spent summers on a lake. Anyhoo. Seemed like post art show was as good a time as ever.

So, off we go for me to give him “swimming lessons.”  Now, you need to understand that there was not a fucking shot I was going in that pubic (public?) pool?  Because yup.  Pubic.  Oh, and it opens to a mezzanine, that 100 people are sitting at and you think I am going to waddle around in my bathing suit. Nope. That is what I pay for.

Well, I needed to get the minis changed into their suits.  This always presents one of those “single mom” problems, because I don’t have a penis.  Oh, I mean, that should not be a shock to most of you, but what that means, is that I can’t go in the boys changing room.  OK, this is all coming out wrong. What it means is that we need to use the family changing room.   Well, as is par for the course, they were all full….. So, I sort of stand outside one, and brother starts to strip in front of the art show, because that’s how we roll.  When this single woman came out of the “family room.”  It takes everything I have when that shit happens to not be like “Honestly asshole?” And I would have, but I was immediately taken over by whatever just came out of her body.   She clearly eats from a dumpster really needed to go. So minis are changing, brother is like “Mom, she did a stinky, PEE YEW, MOMMY IT STINKS.” And I’m like “What brother, say it louder so everyone knows we didn’t do it.”

Off we go to the pool.  Peewee is so excited because he is like a dog in a car, and they just get so happy all the time this is his big swimming lesson. Bigs, on the other hand, has his period and was like “Whatever, swimming is not cool.”

Off peep goes to swim while bigs scopes for chicks at the pool.  No shit, the kid can SWIM.  There was Friday night after that.  I stopped taking pictures so I am not super clear on what happened.

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He doesn’t need a bubble, but I make him wear one because there is honestly not a shot I am going in pubic pool.

Saturday.  Now, this was the day that Peep has been waiting for his entire life.  He had a play date with TWIN GIRLS.  Can you even.  Legit though they are BFF and it was the cutest thing ever.  Of course, as this happened, Bigs wanted to go outside (cool) and I was like “Dude, I didn’t go see if pickles pooped out there yet, so just do a look around.”  Four seconds later “Mom, Pickles pooped and I stepped in it.” Like, did he not understand why I wanted him to look around? And that it was not actually to step in it?  The kid is honestly a shit magnet.

Moving on.  My unicorn and I now decide it is a good idea to take ALL of our boys bowling. Let me re-phrase that. I wanted to nap, she came and got me and was like “no, its cool to go out in pajamas, no one will know, people are totally fine with you not wearing pants” The only reason I went is because they serve beer and the old guy who works there is one of those people that when he is like “Yousobeautiful” you think he actually really means it, and LBH, I need every little bit of help.

So, we have the tres amigos at bowling….. Fast forward that my children think you throw the ball OVERHAND….. Right, so every time they pulled that arm back, I was like “JESUS CHRIST WHO FUCKING TAUGHT YOU TO BOWL.” And they were all like “Um, you.”  OK So at the time, it SEEMED like a good idea to let them all drink gigantic lemonades.  Then this happened.

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They. Went. Nuts. 

They thought it would be funny to open the windows and yell to the people on the road.  Ok, TBH, it was actually funny for the first 3 minutes, the next 32 were. Fucking. Torture.  If I had pants on I would have walked home. So then this happened.

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Get. Out. 

We slowed down and kicked them out of the car and drove off with the doors open dropped them off at a friend’s house and left.  I mean, there are times it is you or the kids, and this was one of those times I was going to be like “open your mouth and take the Benadryl” “I am mom, I am in charge.”

So from there (and I received a gentle reminder of this today)……  We all have family dinner, time to go home, etc, etc…..  Quick stop for one of our epic sunsets…..

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Pretty princess.  The sunset, not me. Duh. 

Then this.  I challenge all those fuckers to a lip synch battle.  Never done that? Oh, I am a professional, partly because I honestly know every word to every song, and partly because, duh, I am awesome I make the rules so that I win.

So, those of you from 01945, as I was crushing them in the battle, we were jamming, it happened…… We decided all of those minis needed to go have a neck run.  Yup…. Windows down, singing, Saturday night.  It was a little weird when we turned around at the light house and there were all the 13 year olds getting hanky panky  cuz, ya know.

Then, well, then there was Champagne Sunday.  Lately, my weekend starts on Tuesday, and this week has been no exception.  I just have so freaking much going on and 2 days isn’t enough and starting four days early was the only logical solution. So getting drunk on Sunday rather than being productive champagne Sunday is always a nice way to wind down. Oh, and, because I had to take the minis to Target, which, if you remember, I hardly let them out of the house so this was fucking TORTURE…. The story is so much longer than that, but I think I have PTSD from it.  Not STD, the one that you are traumatized.  Yes. That is me.  Post Target. I think my text to the girls said “I am going to drink champagne so I don’t murder someone.” I mean, paraphrasing, but pretty close.  It might have actually been exactly that. Plus, I needed my girls to analyze something from me, because, duh, that is how I roll.

So, I know from here, it seems like the weekend is going pretty swell, right? Right?  Well, Sunday night = everyone has to get clean…. So, I gently remind my minis of that (read previous blog about why this is a problem here https://wordpress.com/post/naramitchell.wordpress.com/69

I somehow bribe Bigs into taking a shower with Mini (I really wish I could remember what my bribe was…. I bet I was like “Front row seats to a Warriors game.” I mean, I really would say something like that….)

So, they agree to the shower, and I hear mini “Kin, kinny, where are your boobies? Kin, kinny, you have a ding dong and balls too.” (Honestly, I have NO idea where he gets “Balls” from.  Ding dong is me, and there are tons of variations, but “balls” is something I can HONESTLY say never comes from my mouth.  I’m not all like “Bros, how are your balls?”)

And that is it, the weekend in review. I think. I am sure I am forgetting something else though.

If you don’t have anything nice to say….. Don’t read my blog.

I got an email from someone bitchass troll who pre-divorce, I would have considered a “good friend.” Funny how life changes, isn’t it. She so pointedly told me that my blog was “disgusting” that I was “laughing in the face of divorce.”  OK, THAT part might be true, but when the Ex. Mr. Nara and I decided it was time to part ways, a huge part of me died.  It is the part that believed in love, or the fairy tale.  I’m not sure any of that exists, or if people just survive together. So yes, my blog is funny, because that is how I survive (and because I am funny as shit).

I could go into the 10,000 reasons we got divorced, (and it seems as though people are honest to fucking god DYING to know) but the reality is, I never would…..  Why?  Can you not read? Because when we parted ways, I died. I was 23 years old when I met the old Mr. Nara. We grew up together and then we grew apart.  He was wrong, I was wrong (ok, obvi he was WAY wronger, because HELLO, have you MET ME?). But the thing is, I have gotten past the part of my life when I wake up every day hoping his brake lines got cut cry every day.

So to the people who think I am “laughing” at my divorce, know this…. The night before our divorce was final, I laid in the fetal position in my car hysterically crying for hours.  I was alone.  There was not one person there, because my “person” was gone. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t believe he was gone. I thought about the things we had done, the things we wanted to do, and the dreams we had…. It was all gone.  I was alone.  Neither of us went into our marriage with the vows “Till we feel like meh, something better came along.” When I decided to follow through with our divorce, that we both had talked about for so long (because again, we met when we were twenty – fucking – three years old, are you the same person you were at 23? Right.), I not only lost him, I lost our family. I lost friends, I lost confidants.  But I found myself.  And guess what, he did too. And guess what else bitch ass trolls who I sorta think are jelly of me both of our lives are better for it. People who say to stay together for the kids, really?  Honestly, RE-FUCKING-ally?

I am not writing this as an explanation of myself, there is no one who deserves that. But for the people who question if we did the right thing…… I will tell you this…. Hardly a day goes by that I don’t communicate with the ex-husband formally known as Mr. Nara.  Not about me, not about him, not about divorce, or the weather (that’s a lie, we do communicate about weather) about our babes.…. Why, because he loves our children. And I do too.  And that is what matters.  So settle the fuck down trolls.  I would love to say “Walk one mile in my shoes.” But they are Louboutin and you can’t handle that shit.

Up sooner than I thought….. The friends you need in your life, and, the ones you don’t.  And, because this is me, likely some more of this… Because back to funny.1

Why I will never online date, part 2. The good, the bad and the FUCK NO DO NOT COME NEAR ME

They say to not judge a book by its cover, but there is nothing said about not judging people by their online dating profile picture (let’s face it, they also say if you don’t have anything nice to say, and lookie lookie me).

There is some rule, like, the first picture may be bad, but you need to look at the first three.  Lemme tell you something. I am ridiculously judgmental, I  know if I don’t like you right away. I know that I don’t like the smell of dog shit on the first go around, no need to sniff 2 more times? So yes, I am a quick swiper. Before I dive into what I would refer to as “instano”, lemme outline for you what an online dating site looks like (I know, SOME of you may be blissfully married and only have that one secret Ashley Madison account not on dating sites).

So, the anatomy of a profile picture – Tinder. Now, I will start by saying, Tinder is weird to me all around.  That is actually a very bad statement, it should be “weirder than other sites.” If we were rating on a 1-10, the creepy factor is a solid 18. Anyhoo.

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Just sitting here, on this rock, like I always do.
  1. Please note, I had to download the app, because I am NOT shitting you, I will have 9058 cats before I online date again.
  2. OK, so you put your “best” picture here. Seen here, is a lovely fellow gazing off for his future wife.
  3. Name, age, occupation, etc.
  4. Down at the bottom are the “yup” and “fuck no” buttons as well as a “super like” – here is the thing, super like is very sensitive, and there have been plenty of times I accidentally hit it, then got a message like “Wow, thanks for the super like” and I had to be all “Sorry, I have pork chop fingers, didn’t mean it, but best of luck to you, I am sure you will do great on here.”
  5. The obligatory spelling error

Supplemented with a little bit of POF. To be honest, all of these sites are the same exact thing, there is not one that you are like “HERE HE IS! IT IS MR NARA #2” (Pause real quick… I say “Mr. Nara #2” quite a bit, like I will actually get married again, however, the reality of me finding someone who understands that they can come MAYBE in the top 50 things I give a shit about, are slim…. They need to understand that they would come after: My critters, my family, my friends, my work, my eating, my wine drinking, my Bravo TV watching.   You get it.)

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I responded to him and asked what a “Regert” was. Because I am an asshole.

Then you break it down a bit more…. Some of these sites encourage you to talk about a bit about yourself.  This guy and I could never date bc he already gave me a headache.  (Last line, “I am a lil choosey I suppose).  Fucker, that is not why you are single, it is because you all cap type.  People hate that. Which means they hate you.

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STOP WITH THE CAPS. NOW.

What? Just? Just what the fuck is he saying?

They say to be honest, this guy, well, he really did.  Love the purple hair, fyi.

 

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I love the “18 and counting!”

Oh, ok, I see, you are on a dating site because you want to go to the movies with someone because your partner from your open relationship doesn’t feel like going to a movie.  Absolutely. Sign me up. I am here looking for a pen pal.

OK, so you can see, the profile is really the place where these folks shine!  So, once you have breezed through that, you may want to check out a few extra photos they have, you know, doing something super fun, or whatever.  Remember folks, these are my “matches” I didn’t go hand-digging for these psychopaths with really strong future careers in modeling people…..

Some mathematical equation believes one of these gems is the next Mr. Nara.

Instant “Nope” #1

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Did you get this taken at JC Penny? Adore.

I feel like this guy would make me do Zumba and give up donuts. Instant “no”

Instant “Nope” #2

Who did this guy get to take this picture? Was he like “MA! Come take my profile picture for Tinder.” And was she all like “No, get up ON the dirty laundry. Perfect, now look casual.”

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Now act like you always sit like that.

Instant “Nope” #3

Can’t you just see me with this guy? It wouldn’t be awkward at all….I’d be like “LOVE your thong, now, what kind of tape do YOU use to keep everything in place? And where did you get that giant size machete?”

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I just can’t.

Instant “Nope” #4 (I suppose and 5?)

I’m sorry, the ONLY photo you had of yourself, was from your wedding in 1971? As a side note, I super liked this guy just for the fuck of it. Didn’t even blame meat fingers.

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SIGN ME UP!

 

Instant “Nope” #6? (I think, but I can’t count)

This next fellow really outlines what is wrong with these dating websites.  See, they  need to ask you more than like “What is your favorite color?”  They need to be like “Would you date a guy with an eye patch? Could you do it with a straight face?” I mean, let’s just be honest here people. I also love that it says we both love basketball… I am 5 foot 1. There is no basketball that I like. At all. And he, welp. Just.  Well, you know.

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No shit your kids live away from home…..  I would too!

Instant “Nope” #Eh, no idea, 9, 10, 4000

My favorite thing about this guy is his giant WEDDING RING.  Dude, at that point, just have your wife take it. Be all like “Listen honey, things have been a little rocky, would you mind snapping a few Tinder profile pics for me so that I don’t have to deal with mirror flash. Thanks, sweetie, love you.”

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Big fan of the shower curtain.

So, you can see, how I really consider myself to be one of the “lucky ones” who is “handpicking” next Mr. Nara.

Now. Some nopes:

Guys who do better back bends than I do

Guys who wear thongs

Guys who carry machetes

Guys who are married

Guys with eye patches.

And, our next blog posts…….  Did. You. Really. Send. That.  Followed by, the friends you need, and more importantly the friends you don’t need.