Love Stinks. Yeah, Yeah.

Divorce.jpg
'Til divorce do us part.

Editor's note: This item was removed, edited and now re-posted in interest of protecting the privacy of the parties involved. -- Mark Donald, editor, Dallas Observer


... and then one day you wake up and discover that up is down, yes is
no and the one person that for nine years you've unconditionally
loved is suddenly the same one that's now impossible not to hate.
If you're looking for a warm-'n-fuzzy Thanksgiving yarn to soothe
your soul as you share a Snuggie with family for some feel-good
holiday cheer, sorry. Move along, nothing to see here. That comes
tomorrow. Promise.

Today, however, it's the tale of my divorce. Continue at your own peril.

I'm not afraid to get personal on this blog. (My name, after all, is out front on the marquee.) Whether it's what's in my closet or what's not in my stomach or what rolls down my cheeks, I share, you read and, more times than not, you react. You like. You dismiss. You judge. Mostly, you pay attention.

Some of you have astutely pointed out lately that I've been a tad distracted. Good on ya. Always need an extra editor peering over my shoulder. In recent weeks I've spelled tambourine without the "u," confused ugly wins with ugly losses, written "want" instead of "wont" and admittedly snapped at callers to 105.3 The Fan.

My excuse?

Okay, here goes ...

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