>The Band-Aid Comes off Quick

Posted: July 6, 2010 in divorce, relationships, stories of me, wife

I’m going to do this quick.

Please note, ladies, that this will be the first time I ever actually warn you of this.

Every other time is really just a complete shock and doubt on your part on whether or not the two Tequila shots were really worth the effort.

I’ve digressed.

Here goes:

Recently, I moved out of my house and into a one-bedroom apartment.


My wife and I are divorcing.

It is amicable.

We are still friendly and, honestly, haven’t gotten along this well in YEARS. It’s amazing the freedom you get when you realize that you don’t have to actually try to make someone happy. It’s so much work.

I hate work.

We will share custody of the children.

She is taking care of the dog.

I am taking care of the..um…

I’m taking care of the FUCKING HAMSTER ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?


Because nothing screams “bachelor” like a guy living alone except for a hamster in a bright pink cage.

I can’t wait to grow a scraggly beard and fashion a hat out of newspaper and then go get the mail down the hallway with the hamster following me in her little ball while I scream “TODAY IS THE DAY, IZZY, WHERE PUBLISHER’S CLEARING HOUSE MAKES ME RICH!” or something like “Maybe your pirate outfit has arrived!”

Trust me.

In this apartment building, this will only make me fit in MORE.

I’m not looking for sympathy. Or apathy. Or anything else that ends in ‘thy’ unless it’s ‘porn that is filthy’ at which point you can email me at the address in the ‘contact me’ section.

I have a lot of time to watch porn now.

I just wish the hamster would stop staring at me. Makes me feel icky.

So in the future you will hear about me filling out the paperwork and about my neighbors who all have a desire to wear cut-off tank tops and our divorce procedure which includes a mandatory ‘child impact seminar’ that required us to fill out a questionnaire about custody in which we needed to sign a section agreeing that the kids wouldn’t be exposed to druggies or alcoholics or alcoholic druggies which means now my dad can’t come to visit and also pretty much guarantees that I just lost $200 on this crack-whore next door because there is no provision in this section that says ‘..unless you lock the children in another room whilst you get toothless blowjobs..’

So. Yeah.

Band-Aid torn off.

A new adventure begins.

With a hamster in tow.

Isn’t that just fucking great.


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