Two reasons I love this:
1. The screams of a dozen of my News Ed professors as they watched this (and/or snobbishly balked at the fact that KSL is a CNN news affiliate), specifically the expert interview at the end.
2. It looks like Indyboy had a bad week without Mogleydog and turned to a life of crime. Rock bottom, Indy. Rock bottom.
Christmas ruled, by the way. I mean, I was alone on the holiday and throughout family festivities because OH YEAH, I got divorced.
And I got my wallet stolen Sunday, and since it's the new make-it-on-my-own bank account that I'd had for less than a week, the pin was stashed on a mini post-it in one of the pockets, and two thugs drained my bank account before I was finished Christmas shopping.
And before the bank would notarize an affidavit declaring my debit and credit cards were fraudulently used, they required a license, which I told them was somewhere in a West Valley Dumpster along with my raped wallet...I had to go back to the DMV again to get yet ANOTHER license (I was there a week ago, getting a fresh one since my former had expired, and they wouldn't complete the processing of my divorce papers until I had a dewey fresh license to flash them, even though I told them I didn't want to get one until I could put my maiden name on it, to which they laughed maniacally and told me to shove a bank pen into my eye). Basically, next week will be the THIRD trip to the DMV (/third driver's license I will acquire) in three weeks due to the joy of turning (ew!) 27, the joy of getting divorced, and the joy of getting robbed, all in remarkably short order. So the bonus DMV trip was the pine sprig on the top of my Christmas lamb shank of shit.
And the next day I got violently ill with that demonic puking virus. I had not slept much the night before, and would bob off to upright pseudo-slumber in between retching spells and dry-heaving while sitting on my freezing-ass bathroom floor. Nothing really came up, but I did manage to mutilate the back of my throat with my fingernail in the meantime. The long stretches between fruitless gagging gave me some time to picture my ex husband in hotel rooms with strange women, and West Valley thugs lovingly laying Bratz dolls under the trees for their illegitimate children on my dime.
But it was a good Christmas because I found my Zune cable, saw a "news" piece about a Malamute that stuck it to the man, and had a surprise romantic encounter that would curl your toes, melt your heart, and make you wish your whoring exhusband and his harem of skanks a lifetime of disease-free happiness. It was that awesome.
Merry Christmas.
***and also an update: my "encounter" (which is one of my favorite ways to describe stimulating conversation/flirtation/seeing stars, because the catalog for those Sex Toy Parties that have taken over Utah, is called "encounters" and I can't help but love that), well he was a collegiate athlete - a tight end or something like that back in the day, which I don't know anything about, except that I think it was an appropriate description, but a little creepy and gay for a coach to call him, but it's a fun nickname for the moment...and also, having The Tight End on the brain has, as I said, made me blissfully benevolent about my failed marriage, that I think I could actually drop the "ex-" and replace it with "starter-". Call me grace, guys.***
1. The screams of a dozen of my News Ed professors as they watched this (and/or snobbishly balked at the fact that KSL is a CNN news affiliate), specifically the expert interview at the end.
2. It looks like Indyboy had a bad week without Mogleydog and turned to a life of crime. Rock bottom, Indy. Rock bottom.
Christmas ruled, by the way. I mean, I was alone on the holiday and throughout family festivities because OH YEAH, I got divorced.
And I got my wallet stolen Sunday, and since it's the new make-it-on-my-own bank account that I'd had for less than a week, the pin was stashed on a mini post-it in one of the pockets, and two thugs drained my bank account before I was finished Christmas shopping.
And before the bank would notarize an affidavit declaring my debit and credit cards were fraudulently used, they required a license, which I told them was somewhere in a West Valley Dumpster along with my raped wallet...I had to go back to the DMV again to get yet ANOTHER license (I was there a week ago, getting a fresh one since my former had expired, and they wouldn't complete the processing of my divorce papers until I had a dewey fresh license to flash them, even though I told them I didn't want to get one until I could put my maiden name on it, to which they laughed maniacally and told me to shove a bank pen into my eye). Basically, next week will be the THIRD trip to the DMV (/third driver's license I will acquire) in three weeks due to the joy of turning (ew!) 27, the joy of getting divorced, and the joy of getting robbed, all in remarkably short order. So the bonus DMV trip was the pine sprig on the top of my Christmas lamb shank of shit.
And the next day I got violently ill with that demonic puking virus. I had not slept much the night before, and would bob off to upright pseudo-slumber in between retching spells and dry-heaving while sitting on my freezing-ass bathroom floor. Nothing really came up, but I did manage to mutilate the back of my throat with my fingernail in the meantime. The long stretches between fruitless gagging gave me some time to picture my ex husband in hotel rooms with strange women, and West Valley thugs lovingly laying Bratz dolls under the trees for their illegitimate children on my dime.
But it was a good Christmas because I found my Zune cable, saw a "news" piece about a Malamute that stuck it to the man, and had a surprise romantic encounter that would curl your toes, melt your heart, and make you wish your whoring exhusband and his harem of skanks a lifetime of disease-free happiness. It was that awesome.
Merry Christmas.
***and also an update: my "encounter" (which is one of my favorite ways to describe stimulating conversation/flirtation/seeing stars, because the catalog for those Sex Toy Parties that have taken over Utah, is called "encounters" and I can't help but love that), well he was a collegiate athlete - a tight end or something like that back in the day, which I don't know anything about, except that I think it was an appropriate description, but a little creepy and gay for a coach to call him, but it's a fun nickname for the moment...and also, having The Tight End on the brain has, as I said, made me blissfully benevolent about my failed marriage, that I think I could actually drop the "ex-" and replace it with "starter-". Call me grace, guys.***
3 comments:
west valley always gets our cars and wallets. Sad.
But happy for your BAM.
Your Utah professors probably told you KUTV was the best news station in Utah? Ha.
OMH, i have been behind on reading blogs and finally got around to reading a couple post. i am still shocked with the horrible series of tragic events life has dealt you the past few weeks. my sincerest hope is that karma gets on track and starts paying up. i'll be sending my happy thoughts your way.
also, so happy for your gorgeous new boots and your well-deserved encounter. i hope you can enjoy every possible thing about being single again.
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