"Like a llama or an emu…" -Barenaked Ladies

I'm pondering an animal. Fowl or pig? That's my big decision today. If I can work through this I think I've got the day handled. Fowl or pig? That's my Christmas dinner. I still have the second Cornish game hen in the freezer (they're packaged in pairs, my Thanksgiving entrée hated to travel alone.), but I'd rather have ham.

What do I do? Go cheap, or spend ill-gotten booty on honey glazed pig? Ok, I don't have any "ill-gotten booty" that makes me sound like I'm some kind of pirate. Dread Pirate Rob, captain of the Stuffed Squab. Ok, now that just sounds like gay porn. Let's go back to my dinner plans; we'll drop the pirate thing until I can work the kink out--make it good wholesome Christmas fun.

Besides, I'm divorcing. I don't even want to hint at buried treasure until this is done—not even in jest. If you're MyUnwife and reading this, know that I've hooked the computer to the exer-cycle. I can no longer pay the electricity, so I'm pedaling for power. The good news is that Tony Little dropped by. He want's to talk about an DVD deal. You can do it!

Oh, I probably shouldn't have mentioned that either... See? Everything's a big front in divorce. It's hard too. The person I used to tell everything to is the person I can say nothing to now.

Me: Hey guess what?

MyUnwife: What?

Me: I just-are you recording this?

MyUnwife: Uh..no why? What did you just do? Speak loudly into the receiver please.

Me: I don't believe you.

MyUnwife: You never trusted me!

Me: You're recording this.

MyUnwife: No…I hired a stenographer.

Click.

I'm always on guard, even if it's stupid. I'm worried she'll hear about my fowl/pig debate and take pride that I'm eating alone. "I made him do that!" Well I'm not giving her full credit, but I will admit her fingers were all over the decision That's ok. I know she drives down the road, happy, until some song plays on the radio reminding her of me. I'm the music guy, I know it happens. I don't know what song, let that be her little secret, but I'm there. She can't help it. Little Rob sailing through the speakers. I'm there, and I'm boarding her car. Avast! Insert evil pirate laugh here.

It's a shame what divorce does to us, as individuals and as couples. Even the "friendly divorce" can become a little antagonistic. Then again I suppose if it were too friendly it wouldn't be a divorce, it would be a party. Speaking of divorce, I need to plan my Christmas dinner.

Dread Pirate Rob, party of one, your table's ready...

Oh yeah

Hey, I created a myspace page. I know, I'm so behind the times. It really isn't anything but a networking tool to send people back here, but I thought I'd mention it, because I created a playlist on it and now you can listen to Robtunes whenever you want without listening to Robwhine.

Check me out in all my glory.

Oh and don't laugh at me, I have no friends. ;)

Just telling you all where you can go...Rob.

Divorce360.com is now up!

Hey all!

I just wanted to let you know. I've spent alot of time whining about my divorce. So much in fact, that as most of you know I split my site. Well now you can also see me at Divorce360.com. Three times the Rob? Could the world hold that much joy? I think it's ready.

Besides my pretty face, you can find all your answers to divorce questions on legal issues, financial woes, and even kids! That's right kids, there'll be pizza and balloons! Drop by!

Most importantly, I try to keep my stuff light, but if you're having a hard time coping, or just getting by, Divorce360 offers community. So stop by, pull up a seat, and tell me about your childhood.

Do you still hear the lambs scream Clarice?

"You can't go forcing something if it's just not right…"-Greenday

I'm makin' my list and checkin' it twice. It's an easy list. So who's on my Christmas list this year? Pretty much nobody. The good news is that on an empty list there's no "bad" column. It's all good. As Grinchy as it sounds: Everybody's getting cards. Oh, they'll be well meaning cards, filled with all the sincere love and wishes that Christmas can bestow in a 4x6 envelope, but beyond that, it's all glittery vapor, baby.

I'd go into the whole finances thing but at this point that’s as exciting as sitting through a tax seminar—twice. California mortgage, utilities for single family dwelling, stuff breaking, blah, blah, blah…no money. It won't come as much of a surprise for the usual recipients, in fact my sisters will probably be elated. For the past few years, MyUnwife and I gave my nieces "parent nightmare" gifts. You know, art sets, finger paints, musical instruments, noisy things, brilliant things, things with seizure inducing flashing lights and skull crushing cacophonies in a child safe package. Anything to stretch their mind, and make Mom and Dad weep. It's the least I could do. Isn't that what uncles are for?

This year: nothing.

"Uncle Rob sucks, Mom."

"No, this year he gave the gift of peace. God bless us all everyone…"

Running down my blank list, I thought about gifts MyUnwife gave me. One year, she gave me a wallet. Do you realize that in every relationship I've been in, the woman has always given me a wallet? What does that say? Even my high school girlfriend gave me a red Velcro thing. You remember those, right? Do they still make them? Anyway, I had one. She gave it to me.

Another interesting fact about those wallets: in every case, the wallet has lasted longer than the relationship. I don't know if that's a testament to the quality of cow who gave her hide, or to the sad truth of my love life. Then again, it could just say "Rob's too cheap to buy a new wallet." I'm sticking by the first option, thank you very much, miracle-cow. Although I could agree to blaming all my failed relationships on a wallet curse. That would be a great gift. "Hey none of this is anybody's fault, blame the wallet. There's a special pocket inside the billfold area for that."

Then the next time I'm in a relationship, and the woman gives me a wallet, I'll open it, smile into her eyes and slide it back to her. "No thanks, I love you more." Wouldn't that be awesome? Or maybe I don't. Maybe I really need the wallet. I could put all my belongings into it's folds, and walk the girl to the door with my arm across her shoulders. "It's been nice…." Then she could rip off the arm and beat me with it.

"What did Rob give you for Christmas?"

"I took his arm, but I let him keep his leg."

"aww, you guys are so cute together…"

It's true. I don't even think MyUnwife and I were married when she gave me the wallet I use now. It was a Christmas gift, really nice too: tri-fold, lots of credit card space (she liked that. Ok, that's just a bitter joke. Everybody laugh), special ID window, with an extra large slot for easy drunken removal. That wallet is still going strong. Maybe when the divorce is finalized, I'll store the paperwork in it and buy me a new one. I'm not worried about cursing me; my relationship with me will go on for quite some time. I love the moonlit walks and the intelligent conversations I have with myself. I'm such a swell guy.

There are other things that outlived our marriage. The dryer is still going strong, and the fridge just needs to hold out 2 more years; it might make it. The icemaker is dead, so it might pass out and die on the finish line. We'll see. The car's nowhere close, but who expects a car to outlast a marriage anyway anymore? No. I don't have the marriage anymore, but I might as well enjoy the trappings. It's the tinsel on my Charlie Brown Christmas tree. It's not a pretty tree, but it's my tree. It holds a special place: right next to those people getting Christmas cards this year.

"Don’t ever need to worry cause it’s gonna feel all right…"-Spoon

Who's your buddy? Everybody needs one. Only Dirty Harry liked to work alone, and that's because he was always getting partners shot. They liked him to work alone too.

"Go ahead, shoot my co-star…"

BANG!

"Ahhh…."

That's how Harry rolled. Good for him. I hope somebody smothers him with that ugly plaid jacket. Loner bastard, makes the rest of us look bad.

So who's your Buddy? I found out last night I don't have one. I'm like Harry, but I swear I dress better, and no, my villains don't kill my costars, right now they are my costars. Yeah, I know I lose 5 friendly divorce points for that one: go back 3 squares. I suck at the game of divorce.

Friday it rained here. Normally I buy groceries and sit by the fountain-that-is-now-a-Christmas-Tree to write Friday nights. It was raining that night; it was too wet to play; there would be no writing for me that very cold rainy day. So I wandered the empty Vons and went home. Sorry, Vons, for you not California readers, is a grocery store. Think A&P or Piggly Wiggly. Why is this important? Work with my, you'll see a pattern soon. It's dot to dot time.

I was really busy Saturday night. I worked until 6am, and I didn't get up to go to church Sunday. I've been busy all week. Now normally, busy is good, but then there are those other times when you forget. You forget about other things in life that you'll remember when you take a breath.

I took my breath around 6:30pm, and lost my wind. The dark divorce depression set in. I'm alone. I haven't seen another person since the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. It's like a bad 80's post apocalypse movie. I'm busy, but for what? For who? What will it matter? Yeah, you can see where this line of thought is leading, and it too, is as bad as an 80's post apocalypse movie. Sad Rob: The on the Road to Divorce Road Warrior. Co-starring: Bob Hope and Bing Crosby--Both dead. No funny dialogue, just divorce ichor and death attar.

Who's your buddy? I don't have one. Oh, it's not like somebody, who should have been there, let me down; that would have been cool, 'cuz then I could blame them. Blame is good when you're in a dark funk. I know people, but I don't have any emergency contacts. There's nobody I can call out of the blue and go "AHHHH!!"

I tried one name, but that was more the pin the tail on the donkey approach to support. I was so surprised when I didn't get a response.

"That's because nobody cares about me…" Yeah, it's pretty pathetic.

When I was in high school I used to wrestle. Whenever we were in a match and in trouble, the couch would yell "Find your buddy!" That meant, get outside the ring. When you crossed the line to the outside, the ref blew the whistle, and you'd restart in a better place than where you were when you crossed out.

That's what this is. Get a buddy. Find somebody you can talk to or trust, because no matter how great things are, those black days will hit. It's good to have somebody on your side when it happens.

Who's your buddy?

Humbug

Hey! Since I've already announed that I'm not doing the light thing
this year, I've decided to share my neighbor's spirit with you. This
is the guy across the street. Every year he starts simple, then adds
new lights. I'll post his progress every week, expanding from godly
to gaudy. Who says I don't have spirit? I got spirit, yes I do. I
got spirit how 'bout you?

"...Thank God it's them instead of you…"-Band Aid

The rain stopped. It rained all day yesterday. I know, those of you living in lesser locales are saying, "So?" But this is Southern California, we have laws against rain! How do they expect us to look good for the paparazzi we pretend to abhor when the smog-rain soils our Armani? I tell you, it's hard living up to the California dream!

I suppose the divorce has been a bigger damper on things than the rain. I mean, I'm supposed to be happy all the time. It's kind of an oxymoron too; Californian's are supposed to be happy, and yet we're supposed to divorce partners like they're a 30 day old shipment from the spouse of the month club. What, you don't have one of those? That's because you don't live here. Move here; it's the most popular thing in the welcome basket.

People tell me that I have a great attitude, that I'm doing great. I am, under the circumstances. I know, I'm adding the qualifier. It's my way of leaving wiggle room to break down. Remember the old anti-drug commercial? "This is your brain, this is your brain on drugs" Then some heroin waif, pretending to be a maid (a California staple for every household—even our homeless are required to have maids, or at least somebody who's willing to wear the costume. Heroin waifs are popular out here too...), trashes somebody's kitchen with a frying pan then strolls off, appeased. Sometimes I feel like I need to do that, but I can't afford the aftermath. I don't have the money to replace the broken stuff.

California stuff it expensive. You live here, you pay. They're thinking of making that our slogan "What happens in LA costs you everything." It's not quite as catchy as the Vegas thing, but people still come. They think we're cool. They love the fantasy. I came, and now I can't afford to go crazy in my own home. I wash my dishes then bubble wrap them just in case. Ok, that's ridiculous, but I feel that way; sometimes I think the biggest victim in the divorce is my brain. This is your brain on divorce…

I've always been a little off, you can ask anyone. Don't ask MyUnwife, she's got a bloody axe to burry; my skull seems as good a place as any. Yeah, we all have axes too, It's sort of a SoCal musical chairs thing. When the music stops, if you're the one left holding the dripping blade, you lose. You lose big. I've buried my hatchet. I'm safe from that (I can hear MyUnwife sighing relief from here), but I still get these crazy mood swings. At first I thought it might be PMS, but then I realized, I'm a guy, and that just doesn't happen. MyUnwife was already gone so it couldn't be sympathy pains. I am a Gemini, so that made sense, but these swings seemed more erratic, unpredictable, like a Florida rainstorm. I'd say "California," but we don't get rain.

Then I happened on a article about 10 ways to get through the holidays after/during a divorce. Number 8 said "Celebrate your mood swings." Mood swings? Divorce related? No way! I am Keanu Reeves, and this is my Bill and Ted's excellent epiphany. "No" pause "Way!" My mood swings are divorce related? I was just getting ready to blame my parents! According to the list's creator, it's a natural part of divorce.

"No"

"Way!"

I'm still in shock. You mean this isn't some unique crisis only I get to go through? That's a bummer. It's normal, common, and everybody goes through it in a divorce. I hope the HOA doesn't find out, it's the only thing that made me cool enough to move in. Without them, Corey Haim could have eked me out: He throws cool tantrums when you even suggest he had a D-R-U-G problem in the early 90's.

So I'm supposed to celebrate my mood swings huh? Maybe I could dress them up for the holiday, make mood swing ornaments, or even make blinking mood swing swag lights.

"Happy."

"Sad"

"Angry"

"SoCal cool."

That's me now. I'm so cool I don't need to ice my tea. At least not until the next rainstorm.