Ahh, I see, going on troll patrol are we…..

Well, well, well….. Lookie what trash the old blog dragged in….. I figured it would be best for me to say my peace here, since, it clearly originated here….. So, dear readers who find it necessary to reach out to the old “wazband” about my blog, a few notes to you….

  1. It’s called humor, fucking learn it
  2. It’s all true, he is annoyed because he was, in fact, caught
  3. Step back, breathe, close your eyes, and realize what a god damn fucking troll you are for “reporting to him” he knows it all, he fucking created it. If you think you know more about my marriage than I do (which, hey, you might) please feel free to email me, I am always looking for new material
  4. Question my BLOG all you want, forward it to him, read it to him because he is a questionable at best reader, but know one thing…. There is only ONE parent involved here. There is one parent making my boys do homework, making sure they have dinner, showers, shoes, that they learn how to ride a bike.  There is one parent taking them to Disney, to Maine, teaching them how to waterski.  There is one parent laying in bed with them at night when they have a sore throat or a nightmare.  There is one parent praying with them and reminding them to be thankful for what they have, though it might not be much. There is one parent who gets them to school, picks them up from school, meets with teachers and works through the night to make up for the time they missed at work.  There is one parent who sits at the counter night after night googling “third grade math” and going over the sound that “F” makes, who cries with pride when the youngest mini writes his name.  There is one parent helping to perfect the dunk shot, or the trick shot from the stairs. There is one parent who sacrifices everything, there are no fancy dinners, no manicures, no nights on the town, so that they can play basketball or have swim lessons, so that they don’t see how hard it really is. There is one parent, who lays awake every night, scared that she will never be enough, because she is only one person.  One parent. There is only one parent. There has always only been one parent.  So if I WRITE about it, as an outlet, as humor, know, that I am the ONE parent.
  5. Keep reading my blog, forward it to him, send it to him, I am paid by the click. It went viral last week.  Who’s winning now?
  6. Now fuck off and de-friend me you douche bags
  7. .a8bdaa8feccf9e55e87a0b3e37d45b2f

Dating – the prelude. This nest is a hot mess 3.3

Someone once said to me, that she thought I was “lucky” because I got to “start over” and “hand select” who I wanted to date.  Interesting thought, I suppose. I had not exactly thought to myself “That’s right fuckers, one of the lucky ones here who got divorced! HOLLA!” And it wasn’t as though my parents placed an ad looking to get rid of me the first time, in exchange for a dozen chickens and six goats. Wait? WTF? Is THAT what the goats were for on our wedding day? They said they were just organically cutting the grass and that it was just “bad timing”. Teach me a lesson.

At any rate, I think that what she meant (maybe, and it is hard to tell, because she is a total vodka drunk and sometimes those people are cooooo coooo a little confused) was that I had been married once and got to do it again? Right? Fuck. Even as I type this, I am like “Is she a fucking idiot?” Actually, I know the answer to that question, never mind.

When I met the ex-Mr. Nara we were super young.  We were friends who secretly loathed each other.  Huh, not much changed I suppose…. We met at work, which seems like a common place to settle for the one fucking person you suppose you will spend the next 70 years with meet your true love.   Well, fast forward 15 years or so, 2 babies and now having the title of “single mom.”  That’s right fellas, hot commodity on the market this bitch right here is. (Here I am, I take a lot of selfies for and with my friends… When they are not with me, I want them to be reminded of how much they love me, and when I am with them, I want them to be reminded of how hot I am.  It is also a really good way to do a quick eyebrow check, so I recommend it – here I am with my spirit unicorn.  

Single and reeeaattty to mingle.  OMG, I just legit barfed in my own mouth from that.

Moving on.

I have found in my new “lucky” state, that the “eligible men” I would be dating, really break down into a few simple categories.

  1. They have never been married
  2. They too, are divorced
  3. They are just plain old fucked up

They then, fall into additional sub-categories (aka, “subs” – Ew, don’t go all sex on me here, sub as in “sub-category” Pervs).

  1. Fucking needy (Listen, if you have read my prior blog, you know I already have my children trying to jump back into my vag 26 hours a day, no need for you to)
  2. Someone who you can arrange to see every 82nd day (which, breaks down to 4.5 days a year, not a bad gig if you think about it and likely all someone can tolerate with me).
  3. Fucking nuts. And when I say “fucking nuts” I mean THEY ARE HONEST TO GOD CODE RED FUCKING CRAZY AND THAT WHAT ESCAPE EXITS ARE FOR, BYO safety ladder.

Well, well, well…. Lucky for you all, I have dipped my toes into the water of all of those – arentchalucky.   Let’s break it down, shall we.  Settle down fuckers, that is what taco night is for. Yup. Taco night. Me, my favorite girls, tequila, tacos, and we break. That. Shit. All. Down. Needy, limpy, nutty, pervs, the ones who still text in code (brb, jk, HBD – my oh my, you must really save yourself so much time) just wait.  Of course, yes, the ones we love will be spared, the rest of you dill-dongs are up for review. Sweet. Jesus. Little. Lord. Stay tuned amigos.