Unacceptable use of pop culture references.

As per usual on chilly Sunday nights, tonight I found myself swathed in a heap of blankets, feet nestled cozily into the gratuitous under belly of an immobile lump of dog, with a pair of knitting needles in hand and a movie on in the background. The making of a fine evening if you ask me, so I guess I really only have myself to blame for ruining it by checking my Facebook (aka StalkerRoster). On my news feed were the not quite immortal, not quite verbatim, words of Chris Rock a la Lethal Weapon 4, "My baby is having my baby." Next to a picture of my (semi)recently separated from husband. Separated for just over a year, we haven't talked in the past six months, and all of the information I've managed to squirrel away (i.e. the addition of a new girlfriend, and now apparently a baby a'brewin) has been gathered through Facebook, where I keep watchful eye on him, just in case I ever needed to spring a surprise divorce on him since he still lives in Canada where I left him, our old number has been changed, and he refuses to respond to e-mails. Well, the time is apparently now, tacky, yet slightly emotionally satisfying, I left him a public wall post (Welcome back to high school, please enjoy your stay!) that said congratulations, and I think it's time for a divorce, and left him my number. I feel slightly justified in doing such a cuntastic thing in that I tried to call his cellphone, and received a woman's answering machine and thus really had no other choice...except to maybe not do it publicly, but honestly if I have to find out such drastic things about someone I'm still legally bound to through an internet social network, I don't feel as if I should give him the benefit of keeping my distaste and interest in starting divorce proceedings a secret, something that in the given situation he should be initiating. As my friend said, "Having a baby out of wedlock is one thing. Having a baby in wedlock with someone else is entirely different, and fucked up."

I dedicate the rest of the night to Dirty Dancing, knitting, chain smoking, and shoving my face with 99 cent Jack in the Box tacos, also thanking the ever sweet baby Jesus that it's not my womb.