I swear to you – I tried so hard to not write this post.  Every time a new story about Jared broke I told myself, “Nope – don’t do it.  Don’t throw shade.  Just mind your own business and write about poop and wine and muffin tops like you do every other day.”

Sitting down to my laptop this evening I fully intended to work on an essay that I’m submitting for a contest next week.  The topic is marriage, and I’m writing about my first marriage.  Filled with lies, scandal and deceit, it makes for a much more interesting read than my current marriage, with all its boring love and mutual respect.

Of course by ‘work on my essay’ I mean ‘spend the better part of an hour scrolling through Facebook’ which, today looks a lot like my first marriage did.  Lies, cheating, deceit, Josh, Jared, lying bastards, gross gross gross barf I hate you and I’m fucking taking the house and the cat.

Having been on the receiving end of an unfaithful relationship, infidelity holds a special place in my heart.  That place is the place that wants to tie human beings up in my basement and stick lit cigarettes in their eye over and over and then sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star as I mutilate their genitalia.  Sorry – I thought maybe I should introduce you to the thoughts that were in my head moments before I invited you into my blog and then locked the doors.  Anyhoo, it’s all tied together in a roundabout sort of way so here we go.  I’m fired up and I’m writing about it.

Before I left my job to change diapers full time,  I was the Senior Brand Manager on the Subway account at an ad agency.  This meant eating sandwiches until I wanted to kill myself and occasionally flying Jared into town and managing/driving him to appearances.  I worked on the account for three years, from 2007 – 2010, which I just read was right in the wheelhouse of his Disgusting and now I have to burn my car.

Like any celebrity he was less than thrilled about being recognized by strangers dying to tell him in detail about how much weight they lost by eating nothing but sandwiches.  And he was recognized everywhere.  We did our best to avoid people and tried to stay as incognito as possible when we weren’t doing publicity for the brand, because EVERYONE KNEW HIM AND HE KNEW THAT EVERYONE KNEW HIM.  Do you see where I am going with this?

This goes for you too, Josh Duggar – I cannot wrap my mind around how these guys thought they were going to be able to get away with cheating on such a grandiose scale.  Everyone knows Jared, and I’m sure everyone in, well, wherever the hell he lives, knows Josh Duggar.

Did getting recognized and then blown to bits by the media give them any pause?  Has Monica Lewinsky taught us nothing?  Evidence is everywhere, EVERYWHERE for ordinary people.  But a celebrity?  YOU WILL GET CAUGHT CHEATING WITH YOUR NANNY, BEN AFFLECK.  In the case of Jared and Josh they didn’t even try to cover it up.  $1,000 for an Ashley Madison account on your shared credit card?  Texting from your main phone to brag about underage prostitutes?  Jesus… take a course in Hide Shit 101.

Am I the only one who watches To Catch a Predator?  Chris Hansen poised and ready to pounce from under a pile of clothes in the laundry basket, beer bellied oaf after oaf blindly shuffling his way right into the lens of the camera with a shit eating grin – condoms in one hand and AstroGlide in the other.

Call me sexist, but a woman would see that show once and think, “Wow – I’m never showing up at someone’s house for underage sex because it is probably a trap.”  Men… not so much.  That show ran for TWENTY YEARS.  In twenty years of that show running on the most watched television network in the entire world, their secret trap exposed for everyone to see, they still had a plethora of men lined up and ready for action.  In their minds there was no way they could possibly get caught; their wives would never find out.

Chris Hansen a warrior – the voice of reason righting the wrongs, fighting for jilted wives everywhere.

EXHIBIT A – THE MAN WHO HOSTED A TELEVISION SHOW ABOUT CHEATING FOR TWENTY YEARS WAS CAUGHT CHEATING AND FIRED FROM THE SHOW WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THE EARTH.

I was banging my head on the table, trying to figure out how to wrap this all up when Nick called.

“Hey – how is your day going?”

“Oh my god why are men so fucking stupid and think they can get away with whatever they want like ‘Oh it’s Thursday going to get me a 13-year-old prostitute’ and furthermore what is wrong with these prostitutes that they didn’t recognize that these guys are celebrities and then ask for more money?  Or sell their story to US Weekly for like a million dollars?  Who doesn’t recognize Hugh Grant?  Why are men so sloppy and careless and don’t even give two shits if these women recognize them and go to the press and ruin the lives of their family and go to prison?”

“Totally.  Everybody knows you kill a prostitute once you’re done with her.”

And that, my friends, is my better marriage.