So I got this email last night, right?

"Fake Rolexes! Make you real, and affordable!" No, not that one.

"Male pattern baldness leaving you left out, an alien? Try Chia Hair circles!" No, just past that.

"Hi" Yeah, that one. Somebody had some real questions. Oh sure, it started with the traditional, "Hi Rob" and meandered through the valley of "how are you, I am fine," but it finally did move on to the Rob moving on question. "What are you going to do to celebrate the divorce?"

Celebrate? Divorce? Well, I hadn't really thought about celebrating my divorce. It just didn't seem like a celebratory event. I suppose I could get a piñata and buy some darts. The neighbors kids are still twitching from the last time I tried that.

"I'm going to Disneyland!"

No. That's not quite right either. Oh, I'll be glad when the divorce is over, but is it really a cause for celebration? I mean the marriage is over. The marriage was the part worth the cake and the rice and the bad 80's tunes.

"Always and forever…"

Yeah, kiss my ass, Heatwave.

The marriage was over a long time ago. Next week, the state of California will recognize it's demise with an event they call "Divorce." Our state is slow that way. Gas is nearly five bucks a gallon, and we've still got people still driving SUVs like they're water powered youth generators.

It's all about image out here. You can tell a Californian from the color of tooth in his ear. It's blue, and it's sending brainwaves to the cell phone he can no longer carry while he's crushing traffic, working the crossword, and scarfing a tofu Twinkie.

Yup, we're a bluetooth state. And we look cool doing it. It's our state motto: "Y Pluribus Beauteous--Nike." The street translation is, "So long as you look good. Just do it." We don't care what it really means.

It does mean that I'll be looking good for my divorce--or at least as good as I did before the divorce. Nothing really changes. Does it really end when the state acknowledges the divorce? Is there a magic cut off and a red ribbon drawn across the date? A Rob runs through it, and the last year and a half disappear from my psyche?

Sign me up for that!

All this divorce-think makes me seek web babble. When things get heavy, I like to see what's stuck under the internet desk. Last night I saw a site that said "Divorce is not a verb."

Wha?

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