Publishers Marketplace
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
RSS feed of this page
Help help with RSS feeds
Ex-Wife New Life
by:  Amy Koko
After 27 years of marriage my husband announces he is leaving me for a beautiful Swiss pastry chef. NOW WHAT?
April 20, 2014

Alot on my PLATE

Buy a lottery ticket, say yes to an opportunity, explore an idea - do something to capitalize on the luck that is flowing your way now, Leo. Can you feel the vibe? Can you sense that something has shifted, and that your luck is growing increasingly fabulous? You need to be ready, willing, and able to take on any positive chance that comes your way. You need to be aware of the power you now have to change your life for the better. Your intuition is astoundingly accurate - something has shifted. Your luck is on the upswing!

This morning I read my horoscope and immediately went back to bed with my computer waiting for the good news to come my way. I checked my email for job offers, publishers reaching out with a 10k advance, or an Ellen DeGeneres' staff member wanting to book me for her show. Nothing. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.

Wait a minute! I just got a text! At this point I will settle for a message from ALDO SHOES saying they CAN get the black gladiator sandals in a 9 AAA. Yes, that would be increasingly, fabulous luck, as my old black gladiator sandals now resemble the shoes Charlton Heston wore in Ben Hur.

Alas, it is not from ALDO, but from my ex husband's new wife. Could it be she is reaching out to make amends? I agree, it's time to bury the hatchet and co-exist peacefully. Perhaps she wants to meet for lunch or coffee. We can have a girl's day out, shooting the breeze and then doing a little shopping. (I am not sharing a dressing room, that is where I draw the line.) Better yet, perhaps a nice dinner out, where we sit like two grown up ladies drinking martinis. I'm definitely feeling the let's be friends vibe.

WTF? The text reads as follows, "Amy, it is ___ We want to hang a TV on the lanai and the metal plate is missing? Do you have the metal plate? We need the metal plate."

I'm starting to feel the "Dude. Seriously?" vibe. I lived in that house for 7 years with 4 teenagers. I spent months packing it up, and trying to figure out how to discard cracked bongs found beneath beds without alerting the drug squad. I could have paid my taxes had I taken all the empty Red Bull cans found in closets and cabinets to the recycling center. I packed up 27 years of kitchen knick knacks, family China, and saved t -ball uniforms. I emptied closets, bathroom cabinets, (still having PTSD from what I found under there,) and sat on the floor days at a time crying over boxes of photos.

Yes, when the day came and I walked out of that house for the last time leaving memories and beautiful Persian Pearl granite behind, I suddenly thought, "Wait! She can have my husband and my beautiful home but she is NOT getting the metal plate on the lanai wall!"

So, what do I text back? How about, "I'm so sorry, I was awarded the metal plate in the divorce settlement. Speak to my attorney."

But no, I can afford to be generous and magnanimous. My luck is on the upswing! I answered, "I did not take that TV so I do not have the metal plate. Sorry. Hope all is well."
She texted back, "Thank you, same to you," which I think means "I know you have the metal plate you evil bitch."

Yes. Something tells me she doesn't quite buy my story and we all know my intuition is astoundingly accurate.

Send author a comment on this post

April 9, 2014

Okay, I Have Really Accepted 50

The other day I came face to face with fifty. By that I mean I came to terms with it, accepted it, conceded, and dealt with the fact that I am no longer “around fifty” I am 53 and overdue for a bone density test. During Pilates my knees sound like Fourth of July fireworks. Also, whereas I used to be obsessed with commercials for sexy new perfumes and face creams, I am now way more interested in the ads for Fosamax and Cymbalta. What? Possible dry mouth, and diarrhea? But I won’t wake up counting the hours until I can go back to bed? Okay, I’ll take that sweet deal.

Anyway, the way it happened was this: I was on my way home from spin class wearing the bike shorts my ex wore when he competed in an IronMan triathalon fifteen years ago and a Nike sports bra from the bygone era of Aerobics class routines set to “Let’s Get Physical” by Olivia Newton John. I mean the swish is long gone on this thing. WIthout getting too graphic here, the word BRA is being used loosely as I pretty much have to jam my boobs up into it and then hope I don’t see them later peeking out around my lap as I pedal away to TIMBER.

Suddenly I needed frozen yogurt, from the self serve place where I like to get a small cup, fill it half way with NATURALLY TART and then add like four cupfuls of chocolate sprinkles and a quart of hot caramel sauce. I knew that if I first went home and showered I would end up eating half a box of Cheezits and a Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich and most likely after washing that down with a diet Dr. Pepper I would never make it to Menchies, and my body was really craving it. Therefore, there was a huge decision to be made. Do I actually go into a food establishment with sweat rings around my nipples or do I miss out on one of the few things besides Chardonnay and Mad Men that help me keep my mind off the fact that I only get six more years of alimony. It dawned on me right then, I don’t care what people think of me or my sagging bike shorts or sweaty boobs. I WANT YOGURT! I went in and loaded up. So, that is one way I know that I have come to terms with fifty. Ice cream over vanity. Here are a few other ways I think prove I have accepted the fact that I am definitely well into my fifth decade:

I now stand at the Publix checkout after I have paid the bill going over my receipt like a radiologist viewing a bone scan. The line builds behind me but I don’t care, I have to make sure I got the BOGO on my Oreos.

I will virtually try on any type of underwear that promises to hide back fat. Even if I see that it is constructed with what appears to be toilet paper and Elmers glue I never lose hope. This could be the one.

When I go out to dinner, instead of laying my purse on an empty chair or on the floor next to me I clutch it close to me on my lap and realize now it’s only a matter of time before I start sneaking sugar packets into it.

I now say, “Will you share something with me?” when I am out to dinner as if later, I am not going to go home and eat a bowl of Honeycomb cereal while watching Millionaire Matchmaker.

I invariably will tell my sister during one of our long distance cell phone conversations that “I’ll call you right back, I can’t find my phone.”

Believe it or not, I find there is a freedom in admitting to yourself that you are pretty much middle aged now, and it is more than eating yogurt in sweaty gym clothes. You can do what you want when you feel like doing it, (within reason, you don’t want to end up on Dateline or anything,) with the knowledge that those who love you will love you just as much with a little caramel sauce on your chin and even a tiny bit of back fat.

Send author a comment on this post

March 24, 2014


I am sitting in my office where I am supposed to be writing 1. a book 2. an article on the most over the top wedding items ever and 3. an interview I did with Frank a ten year old dachsund. I am just about ready to get to work but first things first. I have already checked Facebook, done some creepstalking on an old boss, and liked 3 funny pet videos. I checked my Twitter though not sure why as still not really sure what it's supposed to be doing. I googled Season 7 of Mad Men to see when I need to set my DVR as well as season 3 of VEEP. I am debating going to TJ Maxx for sports bras at some point today. I am the only one wearing collared GAP t-shirts at Pilates.

I am ready to buckle down and get on with my business, but there are still some nagging thoughts keeping me from penning my masterpiece and researching swan ice sculptures.

1. I ate two Eggo waffles less than 30 minutes ago. Why am I still hungry? I want cheese.

2. In today's world would Don Draper be an advertising exec? Do we still have those? Would he be in AA? Would he be in rehab for sex addiction? How can I meet Jon Hamm?

3. Why didn't Mick Jagger's girlfriend L'wren Scott just ask Mick if she could possibly borrow the money to bail out her business and pay him back later?

4. What exactly is Obamacare and do I need it and if so where do I get it?

5. How do I get off the GILT website...I can't afford anything on there and I have already unsubscribed twice?

6. What is the fake crab in the Publix sushi made of? Should I get some for lunch or eat left over spaghetti?

7. What time does TJ Maxx open?

Okay. Now I'm ready.

Meet Frank, a 10 year old dachsund with a mind of his own!...

Send author a comment on this post

March 6, 2014

Coffee, Tea, or Vulva Cancer

This week I had the fabulous experience of flying from Tampa to NYC, and I have one thing to say...W T F? If anyone looked more hung over and disheveled then myself, (I ended up boarding while holding my belt and still trying to cram my laptop into my carry on,) it was the flight attendants. They stood in the doorway as we came aboard with a look on their face that said, “Ugh. What are YOU doing here?”

Remember back in the day when flight attendants were stewardesses and super pretty? Those days they couldn’t do enough for you, chatting you up as they offered magazines, pillows, blankets and anything else your heart desired. I believe it now costs something like five bucks to rent a magazine for the duration of the trip unless you just want to read the stupid magazine their airline puts out that is in the seat back pocket. Typically the back pages will be stuck together with some type of substance that could be soda, snot or semen and the crossword puzzle is already done. The Soduku puzzle is usually just half done, due to another human being realizing that this hideous game is just a huge mind fuck unless you happen to be the person that discovered the theory of relativity, in which case I’m sure it’s a breeze.

I located my seat which was on the aisle. I prefer a window seat so that I can smash my head up against it and stare out, hopefully keeping my seat mate from speaking to me. I didn’t used to be this way. I used to be open to meeting new people and learning about how other people live in different parts of the world. This however, has never happened. The final straw was during a flight from Atlanta to Tampa. What typically is a 90 minute flight felt like an trans-Atlantic crossing, as my seat mate regaled me with details of her recovery from vulva cancer. Hence my new outlook on seat mates.

I began feeling hopeful as the seat next to me was still empty with only a few stragglers left to board. Maybe this would be my lucky day, and I would be able to travel in peace as I had already given the young girl in the window seat a look that said, “Don’t even think about it.” Then I saw him and immediately I knew, he was to be mine. The pink crocs, polyester Hawaiian shirt with stomach protruding and greasy blonde comb over gave it away.

Sure enough, he wedges himself into the seat next to me, slips off his shoes and removes a bag of Fritos from his backpack. I pulled out my Ipad and started playing Candy Crush which is my way of saying, DON’T EVEN.

After take off, during which time the flight attendants did their presentations, ending with, “Please take a look at the food items we have for sale listed on the back of your Delta Magazine, but we’re pretty much out of everything, so....whatever,” my seat mates began talking.

I heard a lot of “Blah Blah Blah,” and then I heard the words Los Angeles and actor. Hold on. It seems my neighbor lives in L A and is an actor! He must be traveling to New York for work. Well, suddenly I see him in a whole new light. Perhaps the Universe put him next to me so that I could tell him about my book and he could introduce me to influential people who will make it into a movie and I will get to walk a red carpet at the Oscars and meet Meryl Streep. Finally.

Never one to ignore a golden opportunity I turn to him and say, “Oh, did I hear you are from Los Angeles?”

“Yes, where are you from?”
Okay, enough about me let’s cut to the chase.

“So, what do you do in L A?”
“I’m an actor.”
“Oh Gosh, how exciting! What have you been in lately?”
“Well, actually, nothing lately. Basically I had a short stint a while back as a clown in the circus.”

Because I had opened my big mouth, the rest of the flight was filled with looking at pictures of him in a variety of clown get ups, and photos of his cat Mr. Wiggins.

Up, up and away.

Send author a comment on this post

February 10, 2014

Just Bag It

I’m cranky today. So I have decided to take this time to write a letter to the checkout people at my Publix. I just want to clear the air so that from now on, I don’t have to make conversation, I can just hand them a copy of this letter and be done with it. Let me preface this by saying I hate grocery shopping. I would rather be doing just about anything other than reading Kim Kardashian tweets or getting a mammogram, but a girl’s gotta eat so...(A girl’s gotta drink too but the folks at ABC liquor GET IT. They keep their head down and don’t judge me when I come running in with a martini shaker on a Friday night, screaming out “Hurry! Where are the olives?” and then, grab a jar of jalapeno olives off the shelf, and immediately dump a bunch in as soon as they ring me up. THAT’S how you do business!)

So anyway, here is a list of answers to questions the Publix folks like to throw at me. Let’s hope this takes care of that making friendly conversation problem.

Yes this is a mop. Yes it DOES look like a really good mop. What? You’ve been needing to buy a mop too? Fascinating. Haa haa, does look like the mop head is washable. You’re kidding. Your mother still only uses sponge mops? Wow. I have an idea, shut up and put it in the cart.

Yes I did notice that if I buy five cartons of Publix soda the fifth one is free. However, I’ve been thinking lately that I really want to hold on to the teeth in my mouth, so I think I will just take this six pack of diet Coke for today. What? Your kids drink that stuff like it’s going out of style? I would have never guessed. What say we just go ahead and load that into the cart for now, before the top of my head explodes or I end up stabbing you with my car key?

Yup, this is a dog bone. Haa haa haa, yes he IS one spoiled dog. What? He is an English mastiff. Oh, about 140 pounds I guess. Yes, I know. You already said that is one giant dog bone. Oh wow, how interesting. You have a dog that weighs only 10 pounds? You’re right it probably would take years for him to finish chewing this bone. How bout loading it in the car before my 13 year old mastiff succumbs to old age and I return to find him fossilized on the floor waiting for his rawhide?

Yes, SOMEBODY IS making spaghetti sauce. Yes these are the best tomatoes to use which is why I am buying them. Yes you will have to try them. Nope. Not putting any meat in this one. Yep, I agree. Any sauce can taste great with browned up beef in it. No that’s okay. I don’t want you to send the bagger to get me a hunk. What I do want is for you to load these tomatoes into double bags, and let me get the hell out of here before I start to cry.

Please, NO! I DO NOT WANT HELP OUT TO MY CAR. Not that I would not enjoy you accompanying me to the parking lot where I will no doubt wander for a few minutes looking for my car while you regale me with your Superbowl party plans and the chili dip your sister in law will be bringing, and even though you hate her new boyfriend because he drinks all the beer and doesn’t bring any, you DO love her chili dip. Thanks anyway. I can get it.

Finally, yes I have coupons. On my counter right next to my sunglasses that I also forgot. We all know that’s not going to help me at this point. So please, just ring me up, let me pay, and let’s both move on with the rest of our day. I can tell the woman behind me is dying to tell you about her Swiffer.

Send author a comment on this post

A B O U T   T H E   A U T H O R

Amy Koko is the author of the popular blog Ex-Wife New Life and a blogger for Huffington Post in the Divorce, Women and Comedy sections. She is also an anchor for She is currently seeking representation for her book "My Husband Left Me For a Swiss Pastry Chef - For Newbies."