I'm going through a divorce right now, and there are so many great things about it, but probably the best part is dealing with all the relatives. My grandmother is the most excited. She's taking me out, getting me registered at Pottery Barn, Crate & Barrel, Smith & Wesson. It's really a lot of fun.

I'm so busy with everything, like I'm having six showers, three for each coast, which is great. The bachelorette party is going to be pretty raunchy. I've started that already. I basically wear the inflatable penis balloon wherever. It can get awkward, but it usually makes me look a little less stupid ordering my extra soy vanilla shot no foam double latte so that's a bonus.

For the honeymoon, we're going to line up all the people that we've cheated with and turn it into a game of Twister. If Twister doesn't work out, we'll probably go to Russian Roulette. Something that goes with the ivory napkins in the sun room, that's all I know.

We didn't have any kids before, but it seems like a good idea now. Every kid whose parents are divorced has that extra edge, that special mark that makes them interesting. I don't do a lot for the children, but when I do, I believe in making a commitment.

I can't imagine I'll have any trouble conceiving, but I'm planning to go to an infertility clinic to make sure that we do have twins. I'm also launching my perfume line right about that time. I'm going to call it Fragrant Meadows. Either that or I Hope You Fucking Die. Or perhaps Mystery. Maybe Mystery Meadows. There are so many choices, really.

I'm not sure what shoes I should have my divorceemaids wear, but I'm thinking I might pick out something in taupe. Taupe seems like a color that you can rely on because it's only one syllable, and it rhymes with dope. Plus it starts with T like Tupac, and I think that Tupac would have gone with taupe. If he hadn't been shot down for speaking the fucking truth, man.

One thing I do know is that on the special day I'm going to be wearing white. I'm just traditional that way. I think it's important to wear white because Paris Hilton has redefined white as a concept. White to me means heiress, sex tape, empire, marketing, brain death, taking it in every hole, suck and fuck, propriety, etiquette, good breeding, and then probably unicorns. Definitely unicorns. And you can't have a proper divorce without unicorns.

There's always the question of what deejay we should hire, but I'm thinking it'll be someone who plays off a cassingles-only list. Because that will ensure "I Touch Myself" by the Divinyls and "Naughty Girls Need Love Too" by Samantha Fox. Then hopefully if we play our cards right a little Adam Ant. You cannot have a good divorce party without a little Ant.

I'll admit I am getting more and more nervous as the big day approaches, but one thing I do know is that nothing is going to go wrong. You dream about a day like this your entire life. You imagine how he will phrase it to you, like will you be on a deserted island somewhere that he's paid his chauffeur to take you to so that it's just the two of you, and then he'll say, "Oh my God, can I have a little coconut milk?" and you'll say, "What, you know that I hate coconut milk," but then out of the coconut will come the court papers wrapped in a tiny little diamond. And that's just how it happened with us.

He hired a photographer to be there on the island because we're going to do a big collage of impromptu photos from the day that he asked me to the actual day of, and then we're probably going to make special books for all the people standing up so that they can keep them. Because if you can't have keepsakes, what do you have? You have forgetsakes, and that's just sad. That's no kind of life.

Of course, I don't want people to throw rice at us because you know everyone has heard about how it makes the poor pigeons' stomachs explode, and no one wants a downer on a day like that. So I think that we'll probably have stuffed pigeons to throw because that seems very practical. You can get a good grip on the bird, you can aim, you can fire, you can have a little fun with it.

I'm not sure yet who to bring as a date, but I'm looking at a few options. Do you bring the lawyer? That just seems so cliché. Everyone brings their lawyer to their divorce. Why not mix it up? My chiropractor has been there for me during this time, too. And my dentist because I had this one sealant put on my lower right quadrant.

Then there are the caterers. Do you do the Baked Alaskan or is that too pre-dotcom crash? Do you have the three-tiered cake with the decadent fudge sauce or is it better to go with something more low key? I was reading in Modern Divorcee magazine about this amazing opium den one couple had at the reception, and I thought, see, you think everything's been done, but it hasn't.

I'm still debating how I should do my hair. Should I go with the up-do or wear it down like he likes it? Every man likes the hair down. Kind of sexy, tossed around. Or do I shave it off completely? Go for the sympathy. Does she have cancer? Or is she just getting divorced?

I'm still having trouble picking the right divorce planner, though. There are a lot of girls I like, but none are as good as J Puffy in that one movie. She sets the bar so frickin high. Because you want someone who treats you well but then can also take you forcefully from behind when the situation calls for it. You need someone comfortable as both a top and a bottom. I'm thinking I'll probably just ask my dentist.