Planned Parenthood Really Screwed Me

by Marinka on October 4, 2015

I know that there were Congressional hearings going on last week and I stand with Planned Parenthood (assuming that all the seats are taken and it’s Standing Room Only) and all that, but I am also furious at them. And I know that as a pinko-liberal-feminist it’s not ok to be mad at Planned Parenthood, but I am. I AM. And I will no longer be silenced.

Now let me tell you everything from the beginning so that you can see why I am completely right about everything and why Planned Parenthood owes me a huge apology and perhaps a small gift.

I have always supported Planned Parenthood. In college, I did data entry for them. After college, I worked as an escort at one of their clinics, helping women who needed services get past the protesting nutcases. And I sent them money when I could. Because, oh I don’t know, I think women’s healthcare is important. Women having reproductive options is important. Not as important as the right to be armed to the teeth, obviously, but still up there. So, to sum up, I’ve been wonderful to Planned Parenthood.

And not let’s see what they’ve done for me.

When I had my first baby, over seventeen years ago, they did not tell me that I should “plan” on not sleeping for a year. If this isn’t something that Planned Parenthood should advise you about, I don’t know what is. And yes, it’s true, I didn’t seek out their wisdom, but I also didn’t go to the car makers to ask if I should put on my seatbelt. They came to me and let me know. But not Planned Parenthood. Had they warned my about this, I would have gotten pregnant and had a baby at approximately 80. So, that’s Strike One.

Strike Two came with the birth of my son, three years later. Did Planned Parenthood tell me that having kids three years apart in NYC mean that I would be applying to middle school and high school at the same time? Or that my daughter would be applying to college just one year after my son applied to high school and I was still in recovery from the process? No, they did not. Because apparently Planned Parenthood has “better things to do” than guide parents on how not to lose their fucking minds.

The Third Strike just descended on me recently and it’s a fine how-do-you-do. Because my beautiful and lovely 17 year old daughter, who now sleeps all the way through the night, is going away to college next year. And although I am so happy for everything that she has accomplished and the person that she is, I miss her already. And here’s the Fourth Strike against Planned Parenthood. If they’re such experts on women’s health, why couldn’t they have told me that I would be going through peri-menopause-induced weepiness at that exact moment, why?!

I hope that Congress gets to the bottom of this. Before there’s a Fifth strike.


Dating After Divorce

by Marinka on August 8, 2015

I had it all figured out. After my divorce, I’d start dating again and then I would write the definitive work of great wisdom about dating after divorce. I even had the title all picked out, “Dating After Divorce”! Everyone would read it, immediately get a divorce and start dating, while I counted the royalties that would be rolling in at the speed of light, if not faster. I would become rich and famous and then I would come out with a sequel, “Dating After Divorce While Rich and Famous” which would appeal to a much smaller audience, but fortunately, with my sharp business acumen, each book would cost $1,000, so I would only have to sell a couple. Madonna would buy one, and so would Jennifer Aniston. Oh come on. Give it a few years.

Anyway, my plan was fool-proof, and after a few dates I was about to pen a note to the Pulitzer Committee, just to give them a heads up and then the worst thing that could possibly happen, happened and I fell in love with The Guy I Went to Ireland With(“TGIWTIW”) and all the dating stopped. But this isn’t a post about How the Guy I Went to Ireland Ruined Everything (that series is coming soon!) It’s a post about What Could Have Been. Because before I met TGIWTIW, I had three dates with three different men. And that’s what we call prelude (some call it “cautionary tale”, but whatever) and it could have led to a great masterpiece of a book– Dating After Divorce. But it didn’t. Instead, it’s leading to this blog post.

So I’m going to tell you about the guy with whom I had a lunch date.

Here’s what I remember about him: He was nice. Here’s what I don’t remember about him: His name.

I never use anyone’s real name in blog posts anyway, so it’s less of a loss for you than a memory loss for me. Not everything is about you, you know.

Anyway, we planned to meet a restaurant at noon and at 11, he texted me that he was tied up at work. I assume that was a figure of speech and that he wasn’t a bondage tester, but you can’t be too careful. Should we reschedule? I asked, and he said, no, let’s just move it by 15 minutes. And then this texting scenario repeated itself until about 1:30, when I started Googling “how long can a person survive without food?” and “is famine fetish a thing?” Luckily, we finally met at 2:15 and I ordered a burger with a side of everything else on the menu. And he ordered a beer.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked.

He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t hungry because he got hungry earlier on and ate. Before our lunch date.

I knew we were gastronomically incompatible and had no future.

So, that was going to be my Chapter One: When Going Out for a Meal, Be Prepared to Have a Meal.

The whole book was going to be filled with life lessons that would help everyone, especially my bank account.

But then my plan went terribly wrong.

Oh, don’t misunderstand me– I’m ridiculously happy. Or as happy as I can be, knowing that others are suffering because of the book that I cannot write. It is to those people that I say– I’m happy for you, on your behalf. I’m happy so that you don’t have to be.

You’re welcome.


Mysterious Ways

July 8, 2015

Tweet I bought new sandals, wedges, the day that my son graduated from middle school last month. They were on sale, although from an upscale store and I spent more on them than I normally would, but they were comfortable and had secure black straps that flattered my Cinderella’s step-sister foot and I thought, “why […]

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A Scene in Front of a Fountain

June 28, 2015

Tweet A while back, Papa was telling me about an argument that he had with Mama. “We had real scene in front of fountain,” he told me, in Russian, which I am indicating by writing in English but nonetheless leaving out all the articles, so you can feel the Russianness. Let me know how that’s […]

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June 11, 2015

Tweet Last week I met my lovely daughter’s handsome boyfriend which is one of those things that I file under “about damn time” since they’ve been dating for over a year which is like a decade in teenage years and who knows how long in dog years, although I suspect it depends on the breed, […]

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D and E

June 5, 2015

Tweet The other evening I was having dinner with a friend and she mentioned that at our age, we have to do more than just exercise or just diet, in fact we have to do both. There are many things that I hate about this, starting with that she said “at our age” even though […]

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On Worry

May 15, 2015

Tweet You know how I don’t like to worry you unnecessarily, what with this being a humor blog and all, but I lately I have been suffering terribly. Terribly, I say. It all started a few weeks ago, when the Guy I Went to Ireland With sneezed and then also coughed. “You have a disease,” […]

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Sleigh Me

April 19, 2015

Tweet You know what? I love my bed. I’ve had it for years. It’s a sleigh bed, which is admittedly an odd concept. Why do we want to pretend that we are on a sleigh when resting? And why don’t we call it a sled bed, which is a lot catchier and would also appeal […]

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