In 2021, there I was, high as mothaaaa (get it. I'm a mothaaaa) on MDMA (street name ecstasy) watching National Geographic. For legal reasons it feels important for me to say that I no longer do illicit drugs. I take prescriptions, because I am an adult now. Anyway, there I was, absolutely engulfed in this nature documentary (drugs, remember) about oceans and marine life. When all of a sudden, and I’m like not even kidding at all when I say I just got full body chills {lol}, a fucking NARWHAL is on the screen. A real one. I could not believe my eyes. I am telling you right the fuck now, my brain chemistry was altered in that moment. And now that I'm really thinking about it, it probably was because I was literally on MDMA and my best friend Emily has been part of a clinical trial for MDMA. Emily, I hope you didn’t sign an NDA. Ya’ll. We’re on this journey together. I always just assumed that narwhals were whimsical clay figures made up by someone with an exaggerated, kinda fucked up imagination for the movie Elf. Not that I spent any time really at all thinking about narwhals, but, you can imagine my surprise! Even five years later, it still just rocks me right down to my core. Because of the significance of this event, I started referring to those big “HE SAID WHAT” moments as Certified Narwhal Moments. And tonight, we’re going to take a little stroll through a few of the most notable ones I’ve experienced.

These are presented to you in no particular order.

Our first Certified Narwhal Moment goes to Venus and Serena Williams for not being identical twins. Like, what? Who knew that? Did you know that? This was a relatively recent discovery for me, and I’m still a little shaken by it, if I'm being honest. Did everyone just know that and no one decided to let me in on it? Wouldn’t be the first time. Surely not the last. Fool me once, like George W. said. Are we filming the third season of Jury Duty? AND I’M THE GUY? God, I’ve always wanted to be on a jury, but I don’t think it would really be that great of an experience. Basically like a group project and you have to wear hard pants? Two strikes. Okay I’m getting distracted. Back to Venus and Serena. They’re not even the same age. They’re not even the same height, or build. Their skin colors are vastly different as well. How have I gone this entire time just not knowing that? Was I just not paying attention, or is Big Pharma somehow involved? Is there a class action lawsuit pending that I need to be made aware of? Please follow up in the comments if you have additional information on that.

I’m really not even sure who to point the finger at for this next one, because it almost feels like a pretty obvious difference in these two insects (in hindsight). Are they insects? I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m not looking it up. Now we’re all confused. My whole life I’ve always thought that a locust was a cicada - that the terms were interchangeable. One day, Emily and I were talking about locusts (I don’t remember why - it seems irrelevant knowing what’s to come) and she said, “locusts are basically like MAGA grasshoppers. They’re radicalized and horrible.” So you can imagine my surprise at this very obvious mistake, because my perfect, beautiful, angelic best friend that has an English degree never makes mistakes. Especially not with things like words. Good thing we have the Internet, because we had a mystery to solve, and it was URGENT. It was in that moment that my brain chemistry was altered again, and now that I'm thinking about it, a lot of these are really recent, and I’m on Lexapro. I wonder what the long term impacts of all this rewiring will be. We’re on this journey together. Because what do you mean they’re not cicadas? I swear I learned this in school. If I’m being honest, I don’t remember much of my childhood. That’s because of a proprietary blend of Big T Trauma and Little T Traumas. I don’t even know the ingredients, but somebody should check on the cook, who is likely doing a Helen Keller bit instead of their job. Things are not going well. I used that pronoun on purpose to trigger people who don’t belong here. It’s like when insurance companies raise your rates so high you just leave, cuz they don’t wanna fuck with you anymore. So if you were triggered by that, go join the gravity deniers in the hallway. You are not welcome here anymore.

What do you call it when you’ve mismatched the buttons on a shirt, or when something’s crooked, or just a little bit off? Gollywhoppered, right? Oh, you’ve never heard anyone say the word gollywhoppered? Ever in your whole entire life? Speak for yourself. I have used this term openly, with confidence, for as long as I can remember. My entire family uses this term with confidence and a familial pride that some of you just don’t possess. Apparently, everyone else outside the family lore is just playing along, or they’re not really that intelligent, maybe they think it’s a different language? No one has ever even asked a basic follow up question when I’ve used this word. Is this below bare minimum? Because I recently used this term, with pride and confidence, in front of two friends that are probably smarter than all of you people (I’m sorry, but it’s actually probably true.) because they clocked the gollywhop’ immediately. They erupt into laughter. I’m staring at them with the same look I had after I found out I was going to jail. We’ll talk about that later —I was gollywhoppered that night.. oop. A back and forth exchange occurs. There are Google searches. Gasps. Emily faints. Just kidding. I was forced to face a harsh reality: gollywhoppered was merely an idea. A gollywhop, I guess. My brain was being rewired again. After months of investigative research, it was discovered that the word gollywhoppered stems from the Kopca branch of the family bush, and the mystery was finally solved. I’ll never stop trying to make gollywhopper happen.

What is your Certified Narwhal Moment? I want to know all about it. No, I’m serious. Tell me about it.

While the name of this pubic-lation is Divorcee Diary, we will be exploring all the nooks and crannies of my wildly exciting, active life. That was a joke, you fucking idiots. I don’t exercise and you can’t gaslight me into thinking I have to. I am fireproof, bitch. And this pubic-lation is going to walk you through how a precious, innocent, perfect baby Allison was abducted by a below average in every category man, and then he brainwashed her and made her hate herself and everyone else. It’s going to get messy. People might get offended. My attorney is still on retainer (Kristin - I’ll call you tomorrow). I am unapologetic of the choices that I have made, and by the power vested in me, I will be early terminated from supervised probation with the State of Colorado early. Because I graduated early. Because I fuckin’ aced it. Crushed it. Oh fuck, ya’ll don’t know about the incarceration yet. See? I’m getting distracted again. Buckle up.

Let’s light this candle.