Originally Posted by ill_ag
so is that true or not?
I can't get to blogs from my work.
Could be an elaborate hoax to have fun on the internet-probably photochopped the sign, but you be the judge.
Thursday, July 20
Before I met Steven, baseball was the last thing I'd ever make time for. It's not that I hated America's pastime; I'd just rather watch an insurance seminar or paint dry. He's so enamored with baseball that virtually every evening of the season (we're talking, half a year), I'd hear how every game was so unique, groundbreaking, history-making. He even quotes batting averages on guys who played twenty years ago.
Anyway, I learned to spend ďquality timeĒ with Steven and go to the ole ballgames with him, wasting ten dollars on a urine sample-sized beer. I even let him watch baseball while we had sex on the couch - otherwise, I knew he'd get to bed too late and there wouldn't be any more extra innings.
Steven introduced me to the "fascinating world" of fantasy baseball. Can you believe these boys sit at home on the computer and draft pretend teams and play pretend ball? Not only that, they're pretty damn serious about it. Especially Steven. Steven's had one too many fantasies lately.
Over the years, you tend to figure out your companion's passwords. So I decided to enter Steven's fantasy baseball world. I finally connected with the league he's been on proudly for six years now. I tried to figure out the rules and finally gave up. So I waived some of his players (in fantasy baseball, that means firedÖ I think). I waived the guys whose names stuck in my head - like A-rod, Beltran and Pujols. I think I got rid of them. But then it just became so confusing since I don't really know who's good and who's bad. So I simply got rid of all the players and I picked up a bunch of guys on the disabled list. Now, Steven can ďwaiveĒ goodbye to his fantasy team.
See you all tomorrow: ďLions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!Ē
posted by Emily @ 12:17 PM
Wednesday, July 19
So I'm back from ďfun in the sunĒ - and no, not the beach. In the crazy busy New York City streets, where I spent all day handing out the flyers. Got a great reception too! Who says New Yorkers aren't friendly? Anyway, for all of you who missed it, here's what a cheating lying dog looks like.
Well, I'm off to bed. I'm exhausted. Big day tomorrow.
posted by Emily @ 9:55 PM
Day 3. Things are just heating up for Steve-o. Lots more to come. Iíve been pounding the pavement all morning passing out flyers about Steven and just popped into a friendís office (a real friend, not a ďfriendĒ like that slut Laura) to get a break from the heat. Plus, I needed to make more copies - I had no idea they'd be such a hit! Pretty clever flyer if I do say so myself. Iíll figure out a way to post it tonight when I get home.
Before I forget, Iíve received a ton of emails (sorry, too many to respond to) and really want to say thanks for all your support! It really keeps me going!
posted by Emily @ 4:20 PM
Tuesday, July 18
Steven and Laura
It's Tuesday night and nothing's better than a bucket of popcorn, a bottle of wine (I did keep a few good ones for myself) and a great romantic movie. Don't you think? I've got a great, new romantic movie the private investigator made Ė just some highlights. I watched it 14 times last night. Steven and Laura. Holding hands, kissing, going to a HOTEL. Do you charge by the hour, Laura? Bitch.
Anyway, I uploaded it, so check it out for yourself.
I think Iím going to puke.
posted by Emily @ 8:55 PM
I had no idea this billboard would go over so well! Many of you enjoyed my ďletterĒ to Steven and thank you for your support. So here's the latestÖ I've changed the locks on our house. Steven's been by once and called a bunch of times. I don't know if he's more angry about what the billboard says or what the billboard costs. I mean, the joint bank account was his idea. And let's just say he's not too happy about ďourĒ expenditures this quarter. He should have thought about that before he deposited his principal into my best friend's money market. But numbers bore me.
I've had a busy day. I began the heart-breaking process of clearing Steven's crap out of the house. It's not what you think. His belongings will not be stuffed into the garage. I will take meticulous care with his valued goods. Starting with his extensive wine collection. His pride and joy. His baby. I remember when we were looking at houses and how this one was the ďoneĒ because it had room for a wine cellar. He had the racks custom-made and filled them up with countless bottles. Some nights, I found him sitting down there listening to his jazz with a glass of his favorite vintage. Kinda spooky, actually.
Steven's always been big into charities. For me, there's something about charity that scares me. But I do like to give. So I drove around the neighborhood and personally donated a bottle of wine to all the hard-working landscapers. The smiles on their faces were priceless! It felt so good to just give. Oh and, Steven-honey? That Chateau La Mondotte Saint-Emilion that you've been saving for just the right moment - well that moment finally arrived! We may not be able to write this off, but can't you feel the goodness manifest in your heart. I'll be curious if they can tell the difference between the Henschke and the Bettenelli Cabernet Sauvignon. I couldn't. I think it's because I have, what Steven likes to refer to as, an ďunsophisticated palette.Ē
Oh, and Iím going to hit the streets tomorrow to personally tell the world about the dirty, sneaky immoral, unfaithful, poorly-endowed slimeball!
posted by Emily @ 4:18 PM
Monday, July 17
This photo is what Iíve been talking about, the favors that I called in for. Brilliant, isnít it? I think so. I ran out early this morning to beat the rush hour traffic (didnít quite go as planned but at least it wasnít standstill) and got a picture of my billboard. My way to tell the world about the lowlife Iíve just wasted so many years on.
I put it near Stevenís office so his co-workers and friends could see exactly what a cheating scumbag he is. And of course, for all of you to see as well. Iíve decided to do what so many quiet, back-stabbed wives donít -- take charge, make my whoring, cheating, adulterous, fornicating husband know what it feels like to be humiliated. And do it with many decibels.
Itís a personal message for everyone to read. Thanks goes out to my husband who chipped in on the price tag. Golly gee honey, I wouldíve never been able to tell the world about your exploits with my best friend without your contribution! Gotta love joint bank accounts. Oh, sorry Steve, I had to splurge on the lights, too. Some people work late, like you. And theyíre always driving home when itís dark. Burning that midnight oil, Steve-o. Just like you.
So for the next two weeks, starting with today, I will exact revenge on my whoring husband. And who knows what a disparaged woman with lots of resources at her disposal might do?!
Itís going to be 14 days of vengeance. 14 days of unbridled revenge. 14 days of Steven looking over his back to see whatís coming next. Because Iíve decided that 14 days is precisely the amount of time Iíll still devote to that faithless and deceitful husband before I wash my hands of him completely. These 14 days will be a message to all of those nut-sacks who betray their family. Remember in Jamaica, on our honeymoon, when you said we were now a family? Me and you. Oh, you remember! It was on the terrace, in our white satin robes, right after you came prematurely. (Shoulda seen that pattern!) 14 days of misery for Steven, 14 days of reprisal for me, and 14 days of fun for all of you reading this blog!
Welcome to Emilyís 14 Days of WRATH! Wait till you see what Iíve got in store for Steven tomorrow Ė a wine tasting party with a twist!
posted by Emily @ 11:51 AM
Sunday, July 16
So my favors have come through. People say donít burn bridges because you never know when youíll need someone or something again. And itís all about connections in the end. Of course, it doesnít hurt that I used to work in media! Because not only my ex-boss, but others connected to him, have agreed to help me out. Because now, Iíll be able to get even. Even with Steven. Even, Steven.
Because of what happened yesterday, I figured I should be in a new Pilates class. Iíve wiped my schedule clean of any house showings Ė I canít imagine what those poor clients would go through if I were their agent today. Iím staying at home, ignoring the hang ups on the answering machine which Iím sure are from Steven, and concocting all sorts of wonderful activities for dear Steven and that ho-bag once called my best friend, Laura.
In the last few days, Iíve done a lot of thinking. Iíve done some number crunching. Iíve done some brainstorming. Iíve made some phone calls. Iíve thought about what the rest of my life will entail. And the rest of my life starts tomorrow. Tomorrow, the world will bear witness to a woman scorned. After tomorrow, husbands all over the country will think twice before inviting their divorcee secretaries out for a mojito. Theyíll check themselves before they wander into online singles chat rooms. After tomorrow, husbands will be rubbing one out in the shower, instead of signing the room check for their mistress at the Plaza. Steven and Laura have been doing a lot of fucking lately. Now, itís my turn.
posted by Emily @ 12:57 PM
Saturday, July 15
Iíve decided I am going to remain calm today. Iím not going to cry anymore. Iíve run out of hemorrhoid cream. Iíve pulled myself together, doused myself with Preparation H (yes, those butt creams do the trick to puffy eyes) and put on my work-out gear.
I talked to my brother every hour. Iíve gone through a rollercoaster of emotions with him but Iím glad he hired that PI. Took a lot of guts for him to do that for me. He told me that he walked out of work late one night and thought he saw Steven and Laura getting in a cab. The two of themÖ Iím going to get back at them. They committed marital treason. They think Iím stupid.
I made myself go to Pilates again. Just because Stevenís out of my life doesnít mean I have to let myself go. As a matter a fact, Iím going to look hotter than heís ever seen me. What a mistake it was for that newbie to show up.
The newbie Ė yes, she was wearing her same ole headband. Now, on a more rational day, I wouldíve gone to the back of the room and dealt with her after class. But today, I was in no mood. I mean, my husband is cheating on me. No ana-mia wanna-be Pilates bitch is gonna take my spot. Late or not, I needed my ďregularĒ status right now. So I walked up to her and squeezed my way next to her so that she didnít have much room left to stretch in. Neither did I but I didnít care. I was home: front row, second person from the window, perfect mirror view, just the right amount of direct sunlight.
I think the teacher chose to ignore me because I was determined not to move. Anyone could see it in my face. The newbie continued doing the stretches but after I kept ďaccidentallyĒ elbowing her, she finally gave up, glared at me and moved to the back. I got a few looks. Maybe I shouldíve screamed out, ďMy husband is cheating on me!Ē and then they wouldíve understood. But I didnít.
Stevenís not going to get away with this. Iím going to turn his world upside down like mine is now.
posted by Emily @ 5:53 PM
Friday, July 14
I confronted Steven last night. I drank a bottle of wine and told him I know. He says I canít know because thereís nothing to know. I wanted to believe him. I wanted him to tell me itís a mistake. That the PI screwed up. But I couldnít. I told him not to bullshit me, that I know. I have proof. And if he really wanted, I could show it all to him. I thought he was going to get on his knees and say he was sorry. Beg me, tell me it was a huge mistake and itíll never happen again. But he didnít kneel. He just stood there and finally started mumbling that it didnít mean anything, that things have been weird with us lately. Weird with us? Wo-awóI am not part of this equation, thatís for sure! That pissed me off even more. I didnít even give him the time to finish. I told him to get the hell out. That heíd regret every minute he spent with her.
Now, I donít know where he is. He took a knapsack of essentials. His new Calvin Klein underwear he ďbought recentlyĒ Ė heís never bought his own underwear before. Bastard. I was so blind. Heís probably holed up at that slutís apartment. In all of her 700 square feet in a fifth floor walk-up. I hope her air-conditioning is still broken. Just the two of them.
You see, everyone, my husband of seven years has been putting his small, little tool into another womanís toolbox. Not mine. My best friendís, to be precise. Not only have they been trading reproductive juices, theyíve been doing it right under my nose. Can you say: adultery! And letís just say that adultery is highly incriminating in divorce court.
They think they can just walk away from this. Their games have been played for the last month. Months? My games are just starting. They donít know what kind of shit theyíve just stepped in. Flies everywhere. I have friends in high and low places. Itís time to call in some favors. Itís time to draw up my own games. Itís time for them to feel what Iím feeling. Everyone reading this blog will have front row seats.
posted by Emily @ 3:12 PM
Thursday, July 13
I still havenít slept. Not really. Dozed off on the couch a few times. Couldnít get back into bed with Steven. I made sure I was out with Whiskey when he got up and went to work. I still canít believe this is happening. I donít know how I let this happen. What did I do wrong? It was so hard for me to walk back inside the house.
This is what happened yesterday. I went to see the PI. He told me that Steven has a private credit card I donít know about. A credit card Iím not supposed to know about. Itís been piling up hotel charges. Hotels in the city. Hotels Iíve never been to. Usually, when Steven goes out on company meals, a credit card for expense accounts is brought along. No one every pays with their own. Stevenís private credit card had numerous restaurants charged on it. Restaurants Iíve always wanted to go to. Restaurants Iíve never been to. The PI called Steven ďsloppy.Ē Not the modifier Iíd use. Stevenís phone records show heís been dialing a number thatís not work. That all those times while we were in Nantucket, when he had to go to town and get service for his cell, he wasnít calling work. He was calling another number. Residential.
When the PI told me the number, I was relieved at first. I know that number! Itís Lauraís! I said with a smile, ďOf course, itís my best friend, Lauraís.Ē So thatís definitely not who heís been secretly calling. The PI said he saw Steven and a brunette, about 5í7, holding hands, enter a hotel at around 7PM. He then said, Steven and the girl exited the hotel about two hours later. He showed me some photos.
I looked at the pictures: oh, thereís Steven and Laura. Then it hit me: thereís Steven and Laura. Steven and Laura are having an affair. The two people closest to me in the world. The two people I trusted most. Laura, the one woman Iíd never be jealous of if she spent time with Steven without me. Because you can always trust your best friend. And that's why they were able to do it. Because they knew I trusted them. That's why Laura hasn't been so available lately. It never occurred to me that she was fucking my husband. Why would it? Best friends donít fuck your husband, right? Not my best friend. My bridesmaid (she wouldíve been maid-of-honor if I didnít have a sister!). Not my confidant.
posted by Emily @ 1:15 PM
Somehow, I managed to pass out but now I canít sleep. I woke up a few minutes ago to Steven zonked out next to me. I sat up in bed and just stared at him. He looked so peaceful. And I realized: I despise him. The lying, cheating bastard. I still feel sick to my stomach. Itís clichť, but it feels like a nightmare right now and I canít wake up. I canít believe my husband did this to me. It came so fast and feels so horrible. All those fucking Pilates classes to tone down for him. To look good for him. To turn him on. All I did was try, try, try! He did nothing. Heís still sleeping in bed. Heís probably dreaming about Laura. About her ankles resting on his shoulders.
He has no idea I know. He has no idea how upside down my world feels. He has no feelings towards me. He cheated on me with my best friend. I need to take a shower.
posted by Emily @ 2:07 AM
Wednesday, July 12
I am back from the PI. MY HUSBAND IS CHEATING ON ME. WITH MY BEST FRIEND, LAURA. I canít believe this is happening to me. I just canít believe it. Fuck me.
posted by Emily @ 6:19 PM
So today I was in the middle of showing a psychiatrist a home with a separate guest house for his practice. He was complaining that the neurotic housewives in the suburbs out-number the psychiatrists they should see. He was either hinting about something or just being a plain douche-bag. Pardon my French. But, I hate head doctors. They sit around, dripping Visine into their eyes, while someone sits across from them bitching about their stepsister who eats too much mayonnaise. And they get paid for hardly talking and arranging their mahogany-framed ďdegreesĒ in conspicuous areas around the room.
Anyway, my point is, my brother, Jason, called while I was with the head doctor and said I had an appointment in two hours with a PI. A private investigator. Can you believe it? How crazy is that! See, a few weeks ago, my brother came up with this cockamamie idea that something's amiss with Steven. They work near each other and sometimes have lunch and Stevenís been acting weird. Jason thinks heís cheating on me. My brother is a sweetheart, but heís always been quick to judge. Steven's not screwing anyone but moi.
Anyway, Jason said I should hire a PI. To spy on Steven. Of course I said, ďnoĒ of course but Jason was relentless. I know heís just looking out for me and since I figured it would be easier to just agree and get him to shut up about it already, I told him it was fine as long as he handled it Ė I wouldnít want Steven to notice any money coming out of our account. I almost completely forgot about the whole thing until Jason called. But heís made an appointment for me with the PI today. Itís totally insane. But Iíve decided Iím going to go and find out what eye-opening dirt this PIís come up with. Iím sure that theyíre going to show me scintillating footage of Steven sneaking off for his nicotine fix since I know he hasnít really quit yet. Anyway, itís weird but I feel a little nervous. I feel like Iím the one whoís doing something wrong here, like cheating and lying to Steven with this PIÖ but itíll be funny when I tell him about it later - if I tell him at all.
posted by Emily @ 2:46 PM
Tuesday, July 11
So I was driving home from Pilates today and I heard a song on the radio that reminded me of my college days. Red Hot Chili Peppers "Knock Me Down." I played the heck out of that album. Mother's Milk. Those were the crazy days. I remember one night walking home with my sorority sisters from the bar. It was a long walk back to the house and we were really drunk. Too many of the three wise men that night: Jack (Daniels)Jim (Beam)and Jose (Cuervo). Anyway, we're walking home and this guy pulls over in his van and asks if we need a ride. We were four strong so we figured, what's the harm? We get in the van and sure enough half way to the sorority house, my friend Amy looks down and sees he has his c*ck out in his hand! We all shriek and jump out of the van at the light. Minutes later, weíre in the house, laughing our asses off. The kicker is that we found another sorority sister out on a date with the guy a month later. We stopped by the table and told her. She immediately got up and left without another word.
Ahhh... college. It was fun but I'd kill my kids if they ever pulled those stunts.
Itís funny how Steven didnít even exist for me back then.
posted by Emily @ 7:50 PM
Monday, July 10
So I was on the phone with my sister, Robynn, who lives in the city and out of the blue, asked me about Steven and our sex life. I mean, I love my sister but Iím not into spreading the gossip on my sex life with her. Seriously, does she call my brother and ask him the same thing?? So I promptly told Robynn itís great. She tried to pry but I told her I had a house to show and that Iíd call her later. Ah, siblings.
So let me say this: our sex life has always been pretty steamy. I didnít start as the most experienced woman, but with Steven, I became one. We update a checklist of positions that he keeps in his blackberry, ďPalmaSutra,Ē we like to amalgamate toys with our love-making and we donít only use the bedroom. Lately, though, our love-making has been occasional. Okay, Iíll be blunt: almost never is about right. Itís gotten to the point that we connect maybe once a month. Okay, once every two months. On average. And itís always in the bedroom, in bed and thereís nothing to check off in the PalmaSutra anymore. Stevenís exhaustion from work sends me retreating to the bathroom to abandon my fishnet stockings, dental-floss G-strings and mechanicís jump-suit (donít ask) on a number of occasions. Yet he finds the time to pore over spreadsheets for two hours in bed. I didnít get it when it first started. He never used to pass up ďLilí Bunnyís GarageĒ for Focused Valuation Input Analysis. But now, I realize itís that heís working even harder so that our kids and our future will be totally secure. I mean, it could be worse. I was watching some nature show the other day about flounder. You know the fish they serve at Red Lobster. Anyway, flounder lay around on the bottom of the ocean floor all year. They mate once a year. Once! The rest of the time they just lay on the ocean floor. Once a year!
But the thing is, itís really getting unfair for me too. I thought about it this morning. I mean, even in Nantucket during our vacation we barely had sex once! I didn't want to over-analyze it but I was the Grey Lady on that island. It took place in the morning and I think Steven fell back asleep during the process. In his defense, we did a lot during the day... I think.
Anyway, I realized that the only thing that makes me feel good is writing this blog. Better than Pilates, which I canít make myself go to today. And you know whatís funny? When I had my sex-revelation this morning, it was after walking Whiskey. We walked into the house and Whiskey (without his testes) began humping the leg of the couch. I laughed so hard, I almost cried. Actually, I did cry. I mean, from laughter, of course. And then, after that, I cried for like an hour. I donít know. That seems to be happening a lot lately, for no reason whatsoever. I hope it stops soon. Maybe Iíll motivate for Pilates after all. Thereís been too much ice cream entering this house, my mouth and hence my ass. Maybe I should try the couch leg to burn some calories.
posted by Emily @ 7:05 PM
Sunday, July 9
This morning, Steven was finally able to sleep in a little. Itís Sunday so he has a day off! On the seventh day, even God took a breather. I know Stevenís not God. But I sure as hell hates when he acts like one.
Anyway, Iím already up because when I have too much Chardonnay I can never sleep late. We had a bit of rowdy night last night. But we always have fun when Lauraís around. Right, Laura came over for dinner. I called Laura and told her Stevenís at work again and thought weíd have some GQT (girl quality time), since lately, we havenít actually seen each other. Itís hard with her living in the city. Anyway, I made dinner, spicy jerk chicken. Itís all about marinating the meat for hours and then itís ďhot hot hot.Ē Talk about sexy hot when you kiss a bite of chicken into your hubbyís mouth! I really want to go back to Jamaica and have the real thing again. (And Iím not just talking about the jerk chicken, jah mon!) Sorry. Back to the chicken. He Ė I mean, Steven, not the chicken! Ė surprised me and showed up in time for dinner! He said he finally managed to get away so we could spend time together but he adores Laura too so he didnít mind her there at all.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, we got extremely wasted. I mean, really drunk. Thatís what happens when you have an incredible collection of wine right in your own home and membership in a wine club to enjoy it Ė Stevenís proudly got a collection in the basement that rivals Trattoria DellíArteís wine room. I remember at one point, we were all laughing so hard that Laura fell off the couch and Steven right on top of her! It was hilarious.
What was even funnier was waking up in the living room chair. Thatís the worst feeling when you wake up on the couch in the middle of the night. The televisionís still on and has some infomercial of the British guy selling you a food processor you can put on your keychain, the dog is licking your big toe and you have an imprint of carnations on your cheek from the high-relief floral pattern on the throw pillows. Then you have to get out of your clothes and get into bed. Yuck. Laura and Steven were both passe out on the couch. I checked the time: too late for Laura to catch a train back into the city. So I pulled Steven up and dragged him (and myself for that matter) up to bed. I went back down and stretched Laura on the couch and put a blanket on her. Thank God I was coherent enough to gulp some Advil before passing out. Still have a headache.
I love Sunday mornings. Fluffing up the pillows, spreading out the New York Times and trading sections with Steven. Iím one of those who reads the first couple of paragraphs of articles and then moves on. Itís always with the intention of reading the entire article, but that intention never lasts. Do you do that? I think you have to be over 60 to read the whole Sunday Times. Page by page. Steven takes the front section and Sports and Business. Iím a Metro and Arts & Entertainment gal. Either way, itís worth the money. I love Sundays, skimming the paper. Itís our one moment every week that we can both count on being together. Anyway, Whiskey somehow gets into the room, and we tease him by kissing and making him bark and jump all over the place, going crazy with jealousy! It only gets a little awkward when he bounces in right when weíre in the middle of our ownÖjumping and he gets tangled in all the wrong placesÖ then itís back to the doggie spaÖ okay, that is definitely too much information!
Well, itís raining hard this morning, despite the heat, and when I went outside to pick up the Times, it was soaked, even in its plastic bag. Steven and Laura were both still passed out and I saw we're out of OJ and Advil - two key ingredients to curing a hangover. So I decided to make a pharmacy run.
When I came to a red light and all of a sudden, I made the window wiper stop and turned off the engine. There were no cars around and I just wanted to hear that sound of the rain pelting on the window, as if wanting to bust into my car and onto me. And I felt so protected. There was no way that rain was going to come in no matter how hard it was beating down. And I felt like I couldíve stayed that way forever! But then, a car honked and I was forced to restart the engine, hit the window wiper on and just move forward. And I did. As I always do.
Right now, Stevenís upstairs, laying in bed, reading. He says he puked while I was out at the pharmacy, he's that hung-over. He told me Laura called a cab to catch the train back into the city because she had a brunch to go to. I nuked up some chicken broth and he seems to be sucking it down. I hate to sound selfish but if he doesnít feel better, itís going to suck. Rather, thereíll be no sucking at all. Not even sucking up to Steven because on top of him working all the time, he now has to get sick?? I guess tonight will consist of re-heated jerk chicken, more Chardonnay and maybe some Judy Garland. Maybe ďGirl CrazyĒ will be on TV.
posted by Emily @ 6:11 PM
Saturday, July 8
Just got back from Pilates and the newbie had the nerve not only to show up but to take my spot again! But I guess I was late again so there wasnít much I could doÖ until the newbie was in the shower and I stole her towel. Well, not exactly. I took her towel and put it in the bin with the other used towels. But the look on her face when she got out of the shower and realized she had no towelópriceless!
posted by Emily @ 3:43 PM