If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, consider me WAY flattered.
(Wait a sec. You know, there’s one more way I could have chosen to start this blog, so I’ll just throw this one out there, too.)
There’s a new #1.
Yip, you heard right, people. You truly can’t make this shit up, and it does seem like my life does have a way of giving me chronic blogger fodder (or CBF, in medical terms…it’s a delicate subject, after all). So you’re all familiar with my personal list of the 10 Most Bat-Crazy Things You Never Thought You’d Have to Deal with, Post-Divorce, right?
Well, #1 has been trumped. So have numbers 10 through 2, in my opinion.
(Hold please. One more idea…)
Move over bacon…now there’s something meatier!
(OK, so that one’s a stretch…)
Alright, enough with my commitment issues — even picking a lead paragraph presents opportunities for vacillation, which I whole-heartedly embrace.
Let’s just go with option #2.
THE BRAND NEW AND IMPROVED, #1 Bat-Shit Crazy Thing You Never Thought You’d Have to Deal with, Post-Divorce is:
The ex’s new wife starts a blog. In RESPONSE to your blog. In which her first paragraph mimics the first paragraph of your blog!
WHO DOES THIS? Oh yeah, the woman in charge of my children half the time…that’s who.
Seriously, people. I do not lie.
So here’s the back story: A mutual friend of crazy new wife (“crazy new wife” will henceforth be called “Marilyn,” for the purpose of this blog post) alerts me to the appearance of a brand new blog in the blogosphere. This inane blog, I learn, is penned by Marilyn.
Seems Marilyn has read my blog (big surprise, as I’ve gotten a few comments from her, which I’ve summarily ignored because they’re chock- full of crazy), and she has made the ill-advised decision to try to steal my thunder. Keep in mind my first blog post is dated August 27, while hers is dated August 31. That’s an important detail. So is the idea that “stealing one’s thunder” typically implies doing something better than someone else.
Wait: I’ll bet she thought she was making a preemptive strike — after the fact! She’s kinda sly that way…
Anyhow, if you haven’t yet read my first post, I start my blog off by referring to myself as “that girl,” which translates to “the girl the universe just can’t help but fuck with” (because, among other things, my marriage ended with a brick. A literal brick. Seriously, people, if you need to catch up, read here, and I’ll stop with the Cliff’s Notes version of my 2-month old blog.)
So how does Marilyn’s blog start?
The conclusion of her first mindless paragraph asserts this gem: “I’m that girl.”
Oh. My. God.
She tells her reader (I’m assuming I’m the only one who has consumed said drivel, mostly with my jaw hanging open while I literally squealed in delight over how mindless it all was) that she’s “the girl next door,” the cheerleader who “dated the hot football player,” etc.
Oh. She’s THAT girl. Good to know. Cuz here I thought she was that girl who stole my husband, lives in my old home and plays mommy half the time with my children. I thought she was that girl who already proved how much she wanted my life by trying to assimilate all that was mine into hers, complete with physically transforming my daughter’s hair to look like hers, calling my children her children, etc.
Nope. Turns out she’s that girl who is dead set on finding even more crazy ways to mimic me.
OK, so here’s the deal: You can have it all Marilyn…all except my beautiful children, that is, which is the only thing from my old life worth fighting for.
So while I’m off living my new life to its fullest and embracing my 2.0 version, you’re welcome to have my leftovers. Go right ahead. Enjoy.
And I will continue with my writing — because I’m an ACTUAL writer, not just playing one on TV — while you keep trying to copy me. And I truly am flattered, really.
A blog for a blog, huh? I wonder if Marilyn can fully understand the hypocrisy inherent to such clear biblical connections.
Because if I recall, there’s a certain Commandment or two about coveting. And stealing. And adultery. And bearing false witness. And…well, I could go on and on.
Nah. She’s definitely not that girl.