3/24/2008

The Ex-Files

So last night I was watching Rock of Love. . .

You mean you were MIA in Blogland all weekend but you had time to watch Rock of Love? On Easter? Um, yeah. I just needed a little break until the houseguests relocated to my parents' house, which they did yesterday. Happy Easter to me! Lovebug and Ironflower got completely spoiled with Easter stuff and my mom made an incredible dinner and it was a great holiday. And then when I went to bed there was great trash TV. I feel blessed. Anyway. . .

and this was the one where all the girls' exes showed up. Which got me thinking, what if I'd never met Hubby and gotten a complete body overhaul (though without Hubby and the kiddos the overhaul wouldn't have to be quite so complete) and I lost about 50 IQ points and someone way hotter than Bret Michaels (Jon Bon Jovi? Bono?) started using reality shows to get a girlfriend, which ex would I want showing up to talk about me on national television?

Should it be my self-esteem crushing first husband, who would complain that I hadn't supported his "art" (collages of photos of nude Asian women - yes, I'm serious) ? Confusing MG, who turned me into a neurotic mess (though he is my friend on MySpace, so he probably doesn't hate me)? Freakboy? John the Sailor?

I'm sure the reality show producers would go for my ex-husband for the drama, but I know my ex-husband would never appear on a reality show. He uses a post office box so no one can get his home address and won't use his name for his professional email. He is way too paranoid to go on TV. (BTW, I don't know why he's so paranoid, he doesn't sell drugs or have gambling debts. I think it's just that he's so self-centered and has such a superiority complex that he assumes people would be out to get him if they knew of his genius)

I don't think most of my other exes would bother to appear on the show either, they all have lives and most of them make enough money that they don't need a free trip to California badly enough to embarrass us both. But I'm not sure.

So I'm throwing it all out to you, dear internets. If you're familiar with all of my ex sagas, weigh in on who should go on reality TV with me. Or, leave a comment about which one of your exes you would choose to go on with you. And why, of course. Or write a whole post about it and leave the link.

5 comments:

lottifish said...

Hmmm...I think I'd choose my ex Nick because we're still good friends and we ended things simply because our differences took over. I don't think either one of us would ever say anything bad about the other.

Jill said...

Your ex sounds like a barrel of laughs!

I'm not familiar with your exploits...looks like I've got some reading to do!

My ex's have lots of dirt on me! I used to be so crazy! (They loved it though) thank goodness I got it out of my system before I married and had children!

Leslie said...

I don't have many exes...but they'd definitely choose my ex-husband for the drama factor. He'd tell everyone how I was a cold, workaholic bitch. He would leave out how I HAD to be a workaholic to keep us afloat while he failed out of college and sat home feeding his video game addiction. Oh! But he was working and earning an income...I just didn't know it. (What did he spend his earnings on? I don't know!) Your ex did collages of nude Asian women? My ex ran an x-rated pic post website! Cool, huh? Yeah, that was fun to find out.

Anyway...I'm going to stop there, before I sound any more like a Jerry Springer show.

Scarlet O'Kara said...

So I am not the only one that gets "Guilty Pleasure" out of watching Rock Of Love...Good to know.

Love your blog. Will have to read on a regular basis.

jerseygirl89 said...

lottifish - sounds like you have a good option.

Becky - It's like fried food - you know it's bad for you, but it tastes so good.

Jill - He's great for story material.

Leslie - Your ex and my ex could probably make a lot of money together - too bad we'd never see any of it even though we supported them.

Scarlet - Thanks for coming by! Glad you enjoyed it (and Rock of Love).