What?! Has hell frozen over and I just wasn't aware?

One hour ago.

Text from Ex: "been thnkg.i'm at a loss for words n i think the courts r going to have 2 figure this out...its sad n w/the timeframe Lawyer said, i cant promise i can hold off the IRS."

(Background: Ex is apparently in deep shite with the government. We know those sluts mean business, too.)

Second text: "i really wish we could of figured this out ourselves..now we will have 2 pay others 2 figure this out...wasted money that i don't have..this stinks."

My reply: "It does. Do you want to try and work it out by ourselves?"

Ex: "i think, if we do, in the end we will end up w/more...hate 2 give it to attorneys n accountants..etc.i am willing 2 do it but i think only we will loose...."

Me: "More what? I don't understand." (Blond moment extraordinaire.)

Ex: "the more money i have 2 spend on other people..attrnys etc..will be less money for us."

Me: "Can we talk this out like 2 rational people? And can we talk on the phone? This texting is making me nuts."

The phone rang 2 minutes later, after which transpired a shockingly logical conversation. I truly thought I had morphed into "We're not in Kansas anymore" Dorothy and that a posse of little orange people were going to surround me and begin singing, "Follow the Yellow Brick Road." I literally went out on my terrace to see if there was a tornado slinging a tree my way to hit me in the head and send me into dreamland.

This conversation was probably an outcropping of our settlement conference on Friday, which was fiercely heated at times. ("Ex, are you f*cking kidding me that you want my motorcycle that I owned free and clear two years before we even met?! Did a squirrel just crawl into your brain and take over your thought process?") However, after an hour and a half of back-and-forth negotiations with no resolution, Lawyer and I left. I was feeling lower than Britney when she can't find her bottle of Grey Goose.

Lawyer, on the other hand, encouraged me by telling me that it was a beginning and that it's possible this could settle out of court. He urged me to attempt to begin a dialog with Ex in order to save some money for both sides. Hence, my conversation this evening.

Considering that Ex has acted somewhat irrationally (oh, and that's a euphamism, just in case you missed it), I'm not too hopeful. However, it seems as if we will be speaking, if not actually meeting in person, later in the week.

If a mutually agreeable solution is reached, I'm pretty sure that seven horsemen will descend from the skies on winged creatures, signaling that the Apocalypse has finally arrived. I'm not all that cynical, but we are talking about the guy who bugged our house, hacked into my email, put a P.I. on me in our first year of marriage, installed a GPS unit on my car, and hired some thug to break a (platonic) male friend of mine's legs. As I write this, my hope for a rational settlement is waning faster than O.J.'s popularity.

And the leg breaking incident? Perhaps I'll write that one for you tomorrow. Now where's my wine? I'm going to need a buzz to get through that post.

Oh, and P.S. to the dude who found my blog by Googling "Grandpa Gets a Woody"? Ewww!

THE RAID

This is one of my favorite stories of all time, and even though it's long, I just can't resist telling it today, especially since Tracy, Lauren, and Lynn just conducted a raid of their own.

My raid was much more dramatic than that one, and I have to say, so filled with laughs that it's nearly impossible to convey in words.

I had moved out of the house in the fall, and Ex and I initially tried to work out our divorce amicably. It clearly was not going well because we had too many assets and it was an insurmountable task to divide them equally. Add to that the many drunk texts I was receiving almost nightly, and it equaled a contentious relationship to say the least. I had already retained Lawyer, so I wasn't surprised when he called me shortly after the New Year one Monday morning and said, "Almost, Ex has filed for divorce against you. Let's get together later today and sign some papers. I already have them drawn up."

The next day while I was at work, I called Lawyer and said, "Listen, I think I should probably go get the rest of my possessions out of the house. What do you think?"

"Absolutely! Get over there as fast as you can!"

As I've already mentioned, Ex is gone during the week for work, and this presented the perfect opportunity to go back to the house and load up what remaining items I could fit into my car. It just so happened that this fell on Girls' Night, which is our weekly get together of whatever members of our girls' club are available, so I called all of the girls and asked a huge favor.

"Lauren, Anastasia, and Shawn, I need to get my stuff out of the house. Can you bring your SUVs and help me tonight? I promise, there will still be wine involved."

The wonderful friends that they are, they agreed and I headed to the house straight after work.

I was nervous while I was driving there because I wasn't entirely convinced that Ex wouldn't be home, but I was enormously relieved when I drove down the driveway and saw that the space in which he usually parked his car was empty.

I was the first to arrive. I traipsed through the inches of snow on the ground to the front door, almost breaking my neck in the Christian Louboutins I had worn to work that day.

I tried my key in the lock. It wasn't working, no matter how much I jiggled it. I was incredulous. Ex had changed the locks.

Again, almost breaking my neck in my heels, I walked to the back of the house and tried my other key. He'd changed those locks as well.

I promptly called Lawyer. I was in a rage. "Lawyer, he CHANGED THE LOCKS ON ME!!"

"Of course he did."

"Am I within my legal rights to break the window or pick the locks to get my stuff back?" I asked, while walking to the sliding glass door in the front of the house.

Just as Lawyer was about to answer me, I tugged on the sliding glass door and began to laugh. It slid right open. For all of Ex's attempts to keep me out, he had forgotten to lock that door and it amused me to no end. Lawyer laughed as well and we said our goodbyes.

The first thing I went to look for was a stash of physical precious metals we had acquired over the course of the marriage, which happened to amount to a substantial sum of money. My intent was to have Lauren photograph the entire stash for insurance purposes and then split it equally. I knew the going price of gold and silver at the time, so it would have been a simple task. It was gone.

Again, in a rage, I called Lawyer. "The gold and silver is gone!"

"Of course it is."

I was becoming irate as the girls started showing up. They were already in hysterics because of the manner in which I gained entry to the house, but I threw my hands in the air in frustration.

"Can you believe this bastard? First, he tries to lock me out of getting my own stuff, and then he steals the gold and silver! What a motherf*cker!"

Anastasia said, "Chill out, Almost. Let's open a bottle of wine while we get your stuff together."

Ex and I had been working on a wine cellar together when I moved out of the house, and by the time The Raid took place, it was finished. There was a key on the table near the entrance to the cellar, and it didn't work. I looked at Anastasia and said, "You're the cop, break in!"

Instead, she went on a hunt for the working key, and to her credit, found it. We began by opening a bottle of Opus One. An old one. A very expensive one, and the first of several that we would finish before the evening was out.

While we went to work packing up the remainder of my clothes, books, and everything else I thought we could fit into our various vehicles, Shawn said, "Wouldn't it be funny if we took all of the toilet paper in the house?"

Shawn didn't know this, but Ex has this thing about toilet paper. If there weren't 800 rolls in the house at once, he'd flip out, go to the nearest 24 hour convenience store and purchase their entire stock of Charmin.

Of course, Lauren was aware of Ex's obsession and the look in her eyes was priceless as she took off on a tear to grab every single roll in the place. On each spindle, she left an empty cardboard roll.

I went to look for a plastic bin containing thousands of photos that I can never replace, and it wasn't in the last place I'd left it. I began to panic because, honestly, of everything I was taking, this was the most important. I thought that perhaps it was in the garage, so I grabbed the garage door opener and went outside.

Ex had told me in November that he'd had my motorcycle taken to the dealership for winter tune-up and storage. I took him at his word and never called the dealership to confirm, so it came to me as a huge surprise when I opened up the garage door and found my bike sitting right there, not moved an inch from the last time I'd taken a ride. I was dumbfounded. I couldn't believe that I couldn't find my pictures, but did find my bike. This whole situation was becoming more and more unbearable.

Immediately, I got on the phone with the dealership. These guys have known me for years, and I knew that even though it was after hours, a little begging might prod them into coming out and picking up the bike. I really needed them to do this because if that bike was still there when Ex came home and realized I had removed my belongings, he'd take a hammer to it. I explained my situation, and sure enough, a half hour later, two of the guys from the dealership showed up with their truck. After loading my baby into the back of their trailer, I invited them inside for some wine and laughs.

By this time, we'd pretty much packed up all of my belongings and we were sitting in the living room working on our third bottle of wine. I went into the wine cellar, picked up two collector's edition magnums of cabernet, and gave one to each of the guys from the dealership.

Anastasia said, "Almost, you should take something of value, since Ex took the gold and silver, tried to deprive you of your own possessions by changing the locks, did something with your photos that you can never replace, and lied to you about the bike."

"You're right. I need collateral, don't I?"

"Sure do."

I promptly added to the pile of belongings the three most expensive paintings we had in the house, as well as Ex's gold Rolex, of course with the intention of returning them eventually.

As the six of us chatted and drank more wine, Lauren got a mischievous look in her eyes. Ex and I had purchased a six foot wooden Cigar Store Native American statue a couple of years back which stood in the corner of the living room. Lauren said, "Wouldn't it be great if we took that thing out on the front lawn and wrapped it in toilet paper?"

We all giggled and the guys from the dealership groaned. They looked at each other and one muttered, "This is why the saying goes that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

I couldn't bring myself to do something like that, but Lauren had another idea. "Almost, why don't we dress up the cigar store dude in some of Ex's clothes?"

I jumped up. "His wedding tuxedo!"

I ran to Ex's closet, brought out the tux, and we proceeded to dress the statue in the clothes. We had no trouble with the shirt and jacket, but we couldn't figure out how to get the pants on because the feet were planted to a rectangular stand.

"Almost, go get some nails," Shawn giggled.

I went into the tool box, found a couple of rusty roofing nails and a hammer, which Shawn promptly grabbed from me and used to affix the pants onto the statue. We were in hysterics while we each took turns taking photos with the statue hilariously dressed in Ex's wedding tuxedo.

I knew that I couldn't leave it like that, so I eventually took off the tux and returned it to Ex's closet, though the pictures still make me laugh.

My boxes and bags were sitting at the door, and I thought it was time to get going. The boys from the motorcycle dealership helped us pack everything in the cars and SUVs, but I was having trouble because I was wearing good shoes that I didn't want to ruin in the snow. While I had been packing, I had come across a cheap, ugly pair of Frederick's of Hollywood mules with feathers on the toes. Though it was cold and snowy, I thought it was better to go in and out of the house in those rather than ruin a nice pair of shoes because truthfully, I'd rather have frostbite than kill expensive shoes.

When we were finished packing everything in the vehicles, Lauren said, "Almost, we have to do one more thing. Sort of like a signature..... hmmm.... oh, I know! Give me those cheap mules you've been wearing!"

"What? Why?" I asked.

She laughed and said, "Trust me on this one. If you like them that much, I'll buy you another pair."

I handed over the mules in question, after which Lauren dangled them from the deer antlers that hung over the main fireplace.

"There. Now Ex will definitely know you've been here," and she took a picture of it.

We were all in hysterics at this point after the toilet paper theft, dressing up the statue in the tux, the mules on the antlers, and 5 bottles of wine.

We slid the sliding glass door closed and left.

A few days later, Lauren was at work and she received a phone call from Ex.

"I want to report a theft. I've been robbed of my Rolex and three paintings."

"No you haven't."

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't been robbed."

"How do you know?"

"I was there."

"You.... you.... what do you f*cking mean you were there?" Ex stammered as he was apparently becoming more and more angry.

"I was there as your insurance agent to ensure that nothing was damaged."

"I still need to report a theft. I've gone to the police. They fingerprinted everything. And you had no right to break into my house."

"I didn't break in. You left the sliding glass door open."

"No I didn't! You broke in, and I want to report this f*cking theft! I have the police report and I'll press charges if I have to!"

"First of all, reporting a theft would be insurance fraud because the other person on the policy is in possession of the items in question. Second of all, you were well aware that it was Almost who came back to get her stuff and she had every right to do so. Lastly, if you want to be such an A**HOLE that you feel the need to bring down all of your wife's friends as well as her, then more power to you!"

"WHAT?? I want to speak to your supervisor!"

"Fabulous. I'll transfer you."

Several minutes later, Lauren's supervisor transferred him back to her.

"Yes, Ex?"

"I just want you to know that I only said good things to your supervisor about you."

"Then why did you want to be transferred in the first place?"

"I'm not a bad person, you know."

"Ex, until today, I probably would have agreed with you."

"Come on, Lauren, tell me who else was there," Ex nearly whimpered.

My own personal queen of one-liners said, "I guess you'll have to wait until the fingerprints come back. Goodbye." Click.

Since that time, I've returned the paintings and the Rolex, while Ex has put the gold and silver in escrow and returned my photos.

But I will always have one of the letters to Lawyer from Greasy Attorney regarding The Raid which states the following and makes me laugh all over again, no matter how many times I read it:

"What is even more upsetting is not only did your client and whatever other people she had in the home at the time, is that they drank 6 bottles of wine and/or champagne and left them at the house, as well as the empty glasses in the sink. Further, they placed a pair of stiletto heels on the deer's antlers which were above the fireplace mantle and removed every single roll of toilet paper, as well as emptying the toilet paper rolls on the dispensers."

The Raid is now forever commemorated in our state's legal system and I still haven't had to buy a single roll of toilet paper since that night.

Unexpected Blessings

Sometimes people come into your life and not only become great friends, but also bring with them unanticipated beneficence. I met my girlfriend Shawn less than a year ago, right before Thanksgiving. I knew almost instantly that she would become one of our group of girls. The first night we met was in New York, where we were both invited by a surgeon friend of ours to do a press conference. We spent the evening before the media appearance at the hotel's bar hearing about each other's lives. From that moment on, we've continued to grow closer.

She has a really interesting history, having worked in the nighttime scene in New York for awhile when she was in her early 20s, modeled for Playboy, then worked for Playboy doing makeup, hair, and layout. On top of that, she's an extremely talented sculptor and graphic designer. Now she's a mother of four and is adding an addition to her home, mostly by hand. She'll send me text pictures of the bathroom floor she just mosaic-tiled by hand or the shower she just installed and I have to sit back and wonder if Bob Vila suddenly morphed into a hot chick.

Along her travels across the country, Shawn has met some really interesting people, some famous, some not, and some infamous. When Shawn called me during the winter to see if I wanted to go visit her longtime friend Tony down south, whom she met while she was working for Playboy, I said an instant yes. The divorce had been filed, I was stressed out, and this was just what I needed to relax for a few days.

She said, "I know you ride motorcycles. You know who Tony is, right?"

"No, but his name sounds kind of familiar."

"Don't you ever watch the Speed Channel? He's on there all the time. He's a famous motorcycle builder!"

I said, "Sorry, I don't know exactly who he is, but maybe I'll recognize him when I see him." It's been a long time since I've read Hot Bike Magazine and even longer since I dated a biker, so I'm not familiar with some of the hot bike builders these days.

She sighed and said, "OK, well whatever, but Tony is flying us down there and taking care of all our expenses."

I was incredulous, but so grateful because I already knew that I would end up motoring through my savings pretty quickly in this ludicrously expensive divorce process. Spending a weekend in warm weather and riding motorcycles for free with my girlfriend? How could life get any better?

So we packed up our bags and off we went. When Tony picked us up at the airport, I still didn't recognize him. He seemed nice enough, really attractive in that dark, dangerous sort of way, but sweet at the same time. While Shawn and Tony were catching up on the way to his shop where we were making a stop, I remained pretty quiet. I became utterly mute when it began to dawn on me that I did know Tony.

As we pulled into his shop, my hands started to shake. I looked at the shop's sign and asked Tony, "This isn't your shop, is it??" Of course it was.

I instantly knew the very famous shop name and realized that I've been wanting one of these bikes for years. He builds bikes that are sleek, shiny, sensual.... they positively scream sex. To me, anyway. I simply could not believe that I was sitting in the car with this bike builder. I was saying a silent thanks to Shawn for inviting me, because of all people who would appreciate this weekend, it was me.

Walking into his shop was like walking the red carpet at the Oscars, with people shouting out from all over, "Tony, over here! Tony, man, I rode all the way from Colorado just to meet you! Tony, will you take a picture with me?" But I barely paid attention because I needed to concentrate on keeping my mouth shut so that I wouldn't drool or perhaps even lick one of those glorious machines gracing his showroom floor. While he was taking care of business, I grabbed Shawn's hand and thanked her profusely, explaining that I knew exactly who Tony was now and I felt I was in the presence of greatness. She laughed mischievously and said, "I thought I told you the name of his shop!"

We eventually headed off to his house and commenced a fabulous weekend on his waterfront deck by the pool with a bottle of Dom. The special, protective relationship between Tony and Shawn quickly became clear to me. They had a fling at some point long ago, but now he looks out for her fiercely and would do literally anything for her. Beneath that tough bike builder is a heart of pure platinum.

We had a wild weekend. Friday night consisted of a wonderful Italian dinner, after which we found ourselves in a strip club. Of course, Shawn got a dance from a super hot blonde, while I was graced with a decidedly unenthusiastic dance from a worn-out, roundish lady who sighed, "Some dude just walked out the door and gave me money to dance for you. So I guess I have to." It was a blast nonetheless, and I bought some shiny trinkets from the bathroom attendant who told me, "May Jesus bless you." Those are words you just don't expect to hear in the bathroom of a strip club.

Tony took us out for a ride in his boat on Saturday and then to dinner at a new, hot restaurant that evening. He told us that we were going to dinner with a famous actor, and asked if I minded. He called the actor by his nickname, so I didn't recognize it, and he asked, "Didn't you see Most Famous Gangster Movie of All Time?" I hadn't. Shawn was dumbfounded. She said, "I can't believe you don't know who we're talking about!"

As soon as we reached the restaurant and met up with Actor and his friend, I recognized him. I still haven't seen Most Famous Gangster Movie of All Time, but I have seen the show of which he's the current star. I liked him right off the bat. We sat next to each other and chatted about marriage, divorce, where we lived, and how his next film should be shot in my city so we could hang out.

The night stretched into the wee hours, throughout which Actor was hounded for autographs as we migrated from club to club. We took some pictures, one of which Actor looked at and said to me, "Should we make this our Christmas card?" When a drunken girl slid over to me and asked, "Hey, can I have a threesome with you and Actor?" Actor put a protective arm around me and replied, "My wife and I are happy with each other, but thank you." Tony pulled me aside and whispered, "You know that I introduced Actor to several of his wives, right?" at which time Shawn and Tony dissolved into hysterics. Since I had been feeling so destroyed for so long, I thoroughly enjoyed the night and the attention, I admit it. It was one of the best nights I'd had in ages.

We weren't leaving until Sunday night, so that afternoon we decided to go out for a ride, Shawn on the back of Tony's bike and me on a loaner from his shop. I was terrified riding one of Tony's bikes, but as soon as I got on and hit the start button, my nerves disappeared. Riding motorcycles for me is like a spiritual experience. Somehow, the wind in my face, the ear-splitting crack of pipes, and the unfettered feeling of two wheels instead of four leaves all of my troubles far behind. For a girl like me, it was the perfect end to a glorious weekend.

During our ride, we stopped to have a late lunch. We had a few mimosas, after which Shawn and Tony began talking about the days when they were involved with each other. Shawn said, "We did some wild things, Almost. I don't remember a lot of it, but you wouldn't have believed some of my antics in those days. Hey, Tony, remember that time with the Heineken bottle?" They both laughed uproariously. I'm not sure I want to know exactly what happened with that bottle, but I can just imagine.

Tony said, "Wait, I thought it was Corona...."

This time, all three of us were laughing uncontrollably.

As lunch drew to a close, we realized that ominous clouds had formed over head, and I thought, "Crap, if I have to ride in the rain, I might lay down Tony's bike and then they'll both be sorry they invited me." I hate riding in the rain because the pavement becomes so slick and the rain stings your skin like tiny needles. Sure enough, the skies opened with a rainfall of torrential proportions.

I rode behind Tony, and indeed, almost laid down the bike, but not because of the rain. I was practically doubled over laughing because there was a huge rooster tail of water spitting up from Tony's back wheel that was giving Shawn a water wedgie like nothing I've ever seen. I watched her frantically try to cover her butt, but her diminutive hand was no match for the 6 foot geyser soaking her entire back and probably giving her an unwanted enema.

By the time we reached Tony's shop, we were all literally dripping wet and laughing at how absurd we all looked. Shawn and I were going to be late for the airport, but we really needed to change because "drowned rat" is too attractive a term to describe our appearances. There was no time for running into the bathroom for privacy because we only had seconds to spare, so Shawn and I stripped down and changed right in front of the plate glass windows of Tony's shop while Tony covered his eyes, shouting, "I'm not looking, I swear!"

The weekend for me was salve on my heart's wounds. Shawn had recognized that I was stretched to the limit of my sanity, and she reached out a helping hand to me by inviting me on this trip. Actor had comforted me by telling me that he'd been through divorce, and yes, you do survive. Tony extended his protectiveness to me in a sense, at one point growling, "Ex is a f*cking assh*le," which seems small, but a little comment like that means the world when you're feeling beaten up. And riding motorcycles, even in the rain, with Shawn and a new friend was the best feeling I'd had in months.

We made our flight, arrived safely back in our city, and called Tony. Shawn handed me her phone when he answered and I said, "Hey, have you had a Heineken lately?" All three of us were laughing once again.

I'm still not sure that Shawn has any idea of the magnitude of that weekend's healing effects on me, but I will always be grateful for her gift of laughter and a few days in which my troubles were a couple thousand miles away.