And on this day, cupid moved the rock and rose from the dead. Wait, no?

mature-cupid-fat-bearded-hairy-bow-heart-arrow-peace-sign-victory-his-hand-48936734I have been reminded quite a bit lately that I have not been blogging. And, ja know, it is true. It’s because I have mostly been snacking, drinking wine and shoveling. And petting my dog. Dear fuck I am a loser. So really, what better day to blog about my love life, than the day Cupid moved the rock and rose from the dead. Wait? Was that this holiday? What the actual fuck did cupid do?

Anyholla. I decided I wanted this blog to be two part (now, let’s see if my ADD allows for that). Part 1. How my incredibly busy dating life has been, and Part 2. My perfect online dating profile.

So, Part 1. The end. No, really. NOTHING HAS FUCKING CHANGED.

Part 2. Lemme tell you married people something. It is REALLY HARD writing an online profile of yourself. You have to “sell” yourself. But thing is, when you are out of a marriage, you don’t always feel super fucking awesome about yourself. Especially when you have been dealt some of the blows I have. Actually even just one. Just get dealt one of mine. Not a gigantic confidence boost. (except the formers new lady, according to sources, looks just like me AND has the same last name. Creepy, or stalky?)

This is what my actual profile says (can’t make this up, but it’s not online now, because I am burnt out from fielding marriage requests from men 15 years younger than me and am just going to work on stalking yoga or something).

Me. Was married for 10 years, but decided online dating seemed more fun. Have a great job, beautiful home and 2 mini-me’s. I’m skeptical of online dating, but having trouble meeting “the one” when sitting at home watching Bravo TV.

You. Must love cheese, bacon, dogs and wine. Be gainfully employed and not live with mom. Be active but not a Spartan. If your profile says things like “Hit me up” or “LOL” I am already annoyed. Gentlemen who have already claimed to be “the one” for me, so you need not apply: someone who asked if I like being slapped with bacon (no), a stripper (like, current, CURRENT stripper), someone who faked a dead wife, someone who sat down upon first meeting and said “My wife went butch, you gunna too?” And many men who are not “technically” single. If you support Trump, I assure you, we are not going to get along.

I mean, that’s funny, right???? Well, seems as though “funny” is not a quality people look for anymore. It also seems as though people don’t like women who own a home and are employed. And eat bacon. And drink wine. Otherwise EVERYONE says “hit me up.” (oh shit, maybe that is why I am always annoyed).

Anyjolla, I decided that I would write what I think my perfect online dating profile would be. Ya know, like the shit you want to say, but don’t.

Me: I dunno, I’ll prolly put some of the stuff from above in, however, here is the real me, lets give it a go.

Was married for 10 years, but decided online dating seemed more fun. Have a great job, beautiful home and 2 mini-me’s. Had my heart aggressively trampled on, but still believe (ish) in happy endings. Want an equal in life. You work, I work, I cook, you do dishes. Want someone to share the great (sunny days at the beach) and not as great (3rd grade recorder concert) with. Want someone who checks their phone in the middle of the night to see if I said “hi” and if I didn’t, you say it, because ya know, you are thinking of me. Want “easy” in a hard world. What does that mean? You understand that my life is chaotic, and even if I am not the fastest to respond to texts, it doesn’t mean I am not thinking of you…. It means, life. You don’t ever ask for racy photos…. Why, because you respect me… And really, who the fuck does that?

You: Understand that I had a life before you, but still want a life with you. What does that mean? I have two people who rule my every being. I never would have guessed I could love going to third grade basketball games, and doing science projects, and reading Octonauts every.single.night. They are actual parts of me (not like my old art teacher who had a sixth finger on both hands, but you know what I mean). You understand that I am a work in progress. Sure, I want to go to the gym more, and be the prettiest, smartest, fastest, but I’m not. And I don’t. And I won’t. Because life. I don’t really watch TV, but always have music on. You should be overly comfortable with a nightly dance party. I don’t believe in electronics at the dinner table. Or lunch table. Or breakfast table. I am right here. But the phone down, I assure you, nothing happened on FaceBook.

So, there you have it, the profile I would like to post, but won’t, because, eh, imma hold out and hope I meet someone in the produce potato chip aisle.




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.


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.


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.

blog 3

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.




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?????!!!!!



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.