MyExWifeIsAWhore.com

A couple of years back I met a girl that put me in this path of thought.  Let’s call her “Vicky”.

Vicky was a very sweet, and pretty girl.  She was well educated, very well mannered, and liked expensive things.  She liked really expensive things.  Vicky wore designer clothes, drove a high-end luxury car, wore a Rolex, and collected designer crystal ornaments.  She was a Republican (as far as she could tell me), and believed in the nature of good people.  Vicky was up-beat and seemed quite content with her life.

Vicky will be someone’s new trophy wife.  Let’s all hope this guy has a nice-sized savings account and a substantial source of income.

There has been a paradigm shift toward Vicky’s lifestyle by modern women.  Not ten years ago, a trophy wife’s job was to look hot (often confused with beautiful) and hang off her older (and generally “richer”) man’s arm.  But the modern age has called for an evolution of these women.  Trophy wives are now going to college, getting nice starter jobs, and establishing themselves in the professional workforce.  Although generally speaking, once the children arrive the trophy wife’s career disappears.

Previously we’ve seen, that after a few years these marriages are strained by the trophy wife’s’ constant need for upgrade and change, usually fed by spending more and more exorbitant amounts of money on completely unnecessary items (usually art or jewelery).  This normally led to a wife-change-up on the part of the husband.  And expectantly, the new wife was generally a complete deviation from the trophy wife personality.

This cycle was responsible for creating an entire class of well-off, aging, former beauty queens who fill their over-sized houses (often full of cats) with expensive “heirlooms” that no one will want when they die.

Only time will tell if we will see the trend of trophy wife “replacement” that we have witnessed in the past, and if that cycle is broken… What will we do with all of the deisgner crystal Christmas ornaments?

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When I got my own place many years back, one of the first things I wanted to do was get a dog.  I picked up a Jack Russel from a local “breeder” for a few hundred bucks, and named her JavaScript.  She pretty much fixed any need I would EVER have to get another dog.  Long story short, when I moved out my apartment complex sent me a bill for over $1,000.  That’s a pretty impressive number for a 6 pound dog!

Fast forward a few years, to my marriage.  My ex wife was a dog owner when I met her.  A pit bull owner, actually.  And, I do have to say, in spite of the negative stigmas around pit bulls, she was a true sweetheart and a great dog.  So, reluctantly I agreed to get another one who would be “ours”.  When divorce became a reality, I decided that I couldn’t keep anything that reminded me of her or our marriage, so out they went with her.

Since then, I’ve put off the dog owning lifestyle using my busy life, frequent travel, and long-working-hours as excuses.  But secretly, I’ve wanted another dog.  I’ve wanted a dog with big, floppy ears like the ones you see in the puppy food commercials.  Great big floppy ears, and big brown eyes.  Doesn’t sound like a difficult order to fill.

Since meeting my girlfriend, a dog has been a topic of conversation on more than one occasion, and I’ve finally given in to my secret desire to have one.  So, we started looking everywhere… CraigsList, local shelters, even the Penny Saver, but were having no luck.

But then we found her. It was a happen-chance meeting actually, like most amazing things are. Right next to two male beagles in a little cage at an animal control shelter.  Huge floppy ears?  Check.  Big brown eyes?  Check.  Seriously, have you ever seen a cooler dog?  Now we just need a name for her.  Any suggestions?

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So I’m driving to work today, listening to the local rock station, and it suddenly occurs to me… I haven’t heard a guitar solo in the last three or four songs.

What the hell happened to the lead guitar? It wasn’t all that long ago that you couldn’t switch from one station to the next without hearing a kick-ass guitar solo from bands like Pantera, Metallica, Guns & Roses, or Pearl Jam. But now, there’s no drum solo, no guitar solo, no… Well, no anything! WTF?

Have we reached a point where musicians are no longer capable of playing more than three chords?

What happened to rock music?

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This blog is a ranting-raving collection of a (generally angry) single guy’s mind.  I apologize for nothing! 

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