Uncontained Chaos--Take 2

I Was Off Yesterday--But Worked Harder Than Ever...

2009-01-22T07:09:00.000-08:00

A day off should be just that. A day OFF. But whoever (I'm talking females here) REALLY takes the day off if they have the day off? Apparently not me...

I went to the bank. To the grocery store that I lovingly call "hell mart". To the water department. Unloaded the dishwasher. Loaded it. Washed 3 loads of laundry. And put away 7 (don't ask). I cleaned the litter box out. The refrigerator out. My pantie drawer out. I made my bed. The boys bed. The girls bed. I straightened the living room. Vacuumed. I went and ate lunch with Carson (surprise!!)--but really, I didn't eat. Then I sat on my couch and paid the electric bill (one day EARLY!!) and the car insurance bill (4 days late). Took me 30 minutes and much aggravation. "You entered three. hundred. and forty. five. dollars. and zero. cents. If this is correct press 1" O. M. G. "If you now have a headache and want to cook your food by campfire and read by candlelight--just hang up. We will disconnect you in a few days"

Then I played Mahjong Titans on the computer for a few games (I deserved it). Then I made homemade hot sauce--and ate 1/4 of it. I cleaned the toilets. The sinks. Emptied all the trash cans. Windexed the mirrors. Clorox wiped the counters, faucets and pottys. Took a bath. Read part of my new book ("Such A Pretty Fat" or "Why Pie Is Not The Answer" by Jen Lancaster). Then I started dinner. Had a Sam Adams Winter Lager. By now it was 5:30PM and I officially QUIT for the day.

I was in bed at 8. Asleep by 9PM.

And today I had to go back to work. Where I sit and do a few things--and then by 9:20AM I'm bored. I think I'd rather have the day off.

The Search Is Over For My Latest Love...

2009-01-20T09:00:00.000-08:00

I am so smitten with this fella. He loves to rub against me. He gets jealous of any attention I show to a book or my laptop. You can hear how happy he is. He tells me. He can't keep his hands off me. His touch is so soft--but rough sometimes too. He doesn't realise he is hurting me. Which makes me almost like his scratches.

His name is Earl Marco S. He isn't "red" but more "golden". He is so healthy. So soft. So funny. He loves to play. And he loves ME! My in-laws got him from their neighbors. The kids over there had named him Marco. Now, before you accuse me of stealing these kids favorite pet... they have approximately 22 cats. They are all outside. And they ALL have names. I promised the kids that he would be an inside cat. Be brushed, loved, fed and pampered. I have $35 worth of cat toys at my house for him to play with. I also promised the kids his name would be Earl MARCO. I call him Early-Pearly or Early Early Oxen Free!!

I really am happy with him. I love. love. love him. But I gotta get him declawed. O.M.G. He can't be near me without kneading me and clawing me. But he's so darn cute. I love how cats are so "snobby". I saw a sign at the local vets office. It's perfect. "Dogs have owners. Cats have staff." Even Calie likes him. Her and Earl #1 were not friends--he liked to pee-pee on her bed or clothes... Early Pearly knows where to potty. He's a good boy.

For those of you wondering about my health issues... I was stuck 3 times yesterday by an evil blood sucker woman. She finally got 4 vials of blood from me after I bit a hole in my arm so she would give me a break! I wanted to tell her that I would just rip out my tampon and squeeze it into her vials if she's let me. But Sweets kept giving me the evil eye as if to say "Don't you DARE say it...DO NOT!" So, I didn't. I look like a IV drug user--so I'm wearing long sleeves until my arms heal. I do feel a little better. Still exhausted. Even after 12 hours of sleep. I'm a total lard ass. Doctor is trying to find out why I'm gaining so much weight (165--and even at 5'8"--it's not pretty). I think it's my medicine--or Taco Bell's fault. All of my medicines were increased recently--I *think* I feel a difference. But then, I'm crazy anyways, so...who knows.

I can't find Claudia's DS. This last weekend I rearranged the living room furniture. And my bedroom furniture. In an attempt to locate the DS. FAIL! I straightened up her room. And the boys room. FAIL. I can NOT find it. It has to be somewhere. I mean, it didn't grow legs and walk off...right? Oh well.

I'm about to go home for lunch and pet Early Pearly. And play solitaire on the laptop. Have a great Tuesday--see yall (I'm from East Texas--I can say that) Thursday.

Driving Mrs.Crazy...

2009-01-14T11:22:00.000-08:00

I've recently had more doctors, therapist, nurse and lab appointments than I did while pregnant with all 4 kids... I'm missing 6-8 vials of blood. And I have to go back in one week to give *more*. And within the next 6 weeks I have 3 MORE doctor appointments! Don't worry, I'm not pregnant. And it shouldn't be fatal. baha ha Don't worry, I'm in good hands. Trying a new medicine that everyone has high hopes for.

Needless to say...I've got some medical stuff going on. On top of being crazy. So, this is my reason for not posting more of late. That and my addiction to David Sedaris. I would love to slap mayonnaise all over his lil ole head and cradle it between two slices of soft white bread...and eat him UP!! I love his humor. Love. Love. Love. I read one book in 1 day. Won't tell you which one--cause it doesn't matter--they ALL are that good.

And I might not get to post too much in the near future either. My full time job is cutting my hours back to 24 per week. They are uber slow right now. I've already talked to my part time job/boss about picking up 8-10 hrs per week there. And since I make double *there*--shouldn't be a problem for us financially. Plus I'm gonna be off ALL jobs Saturday, Sunday and Mondays. And Mondays are "me and Sweets day" since he's off Mondays too. I really need a job with insurance though. Really.

For those wondering, emailing and commenting:

Earl: Still MIA. Call me heartless, but I'm already looking for his replacement. I NEED that little thing waiting for me when I come home for lunch break--or at the end of my work day.

Chupacabra: Spanish for "goat sucker". An "urban legend" (or so they say) of a hairless, coyote-looking animal that sucks blood from other animals--google it--but be prepared to drink heavily and HARD to keep from having nightmares about it...

I've recently started a "mood" journal too. Sweets and I are about to try some holistic type things together to help with the Bipolar stuff. My Psychiatrist was really impressed with Sweets attitude about this. Sweets has researched and bought books on this type of addition to my treatment. And is going to my appointments with me. Sure is a switch from that last guy, huh?

I also want to take a moment to thank my best friend. And to scold her. V, you mean alot to me. ALOT. You will never know how much I appreciate your emails. Don't EVER hesitate to email me, girl. EVER. ((HUGS))

Earl Has Run Away...Or He's Hiding Really, Really Good...

2009-01-09T12:47:00.000-08:00

I am pretty sure that my cat, Earl has run away from home. I've only been his...Momma, for 3 weeks, give or take a few days. I have been treating him for a VICIOUS case of ear mites. I even gave him a...eeeeek, BATH. Needless to say, he hates me. He hides from me whenever I come home. He knows me only as "that Bitch who cleans my ear out and gave me a bath". He's maybe 3 months old. He is a little on the retarded side. He poops in his litter box--but I've seen evidence that he pees wherever he has the urge. His ear is soooo gross, that when I clean it I gag. The smell!! The mucus and pus! And he wants to shake it all over me. Gag.

Yesterday when I caught him and drug him out from under the chair/recliner to clean and medicate his nastiness, he grabbed a hold of my middle finger with his claw and attempted to pull the bone out of my finger. In other words, it hurt like a Mo Fo. Today, at lunch, I went hunting for him. I looked in all his good hiding places. All the closets. Under the recliners and chairs. Under end tables, my bed...even the dryer (if you leave the door open he will crawl in and lay his nastiness all over clean clothes). I couldn't find him. Then I remembered: yesterday, I cleaned out the refrigerator. And took all the gross leftovers that had worn their welcome out--out to the field behind our house to feed the Chupacabra that lives in the woods. And I left the back door open when I did it...did he sneak out then?? Or. I remembered that when I got up this morning I saw the front door open 4 inches. My 17 year old vampire/daughter came in soooo late it was early...this morning--did she let Earl slip out the door?? The storm door was closed--but who knows...? So. Is Earl hiding in a really good place? Or is he gone?

My Sweets feels really bad that he got me a kitten that is flawed, ill...messed up. He wanted a kitten that jumps around. Snuggles. Plays with the $30 worth of cat toys I bought. I love Earl. I do. I wanted to be his Knight in Shinning Armor. To rescue him from an ear mite filled miserable life. And send him purring into one filled with canned food and catnip. But, maybe Earl just wanted to be a wild cat, like his CatMommy and CatDaddy. Maybe he got tired of me cleaning all that gunk out of his ears. Putting in those dreadful drops. Got tired of me hauling his ass to the cat box every time I caught him in the "I'm about to urinate all over this here quilt" pose. So he snuck out. I want to put food out for him--but I'm afraid. Afraid the Chupacabra will get it--or Earl.

So, tonight, when I get off work, I'm going to search the house from top to bottom for Earl. I may even bribe the kids--like I do when we can't find a special toy, or school backpack. "Whoever finds him gets a dollar. A WHOLE dollar!!" Lay out carrots for the Carrot god or pray to G. O. D. that we find him.

Aeropostale After 29...AKA Act Your Age...

2009-01-09T11:10:00.000-08:00

I think Aeropostale was designed with the young, hip adults in mind. Don't you? I mean, really? I'm not saying, that as a 40 year old woman, mother of 8, that I'm wearing denim jumpers and keds all over town. I still wear jeans and T-shirts. I own a leather jacket. I wear flats and Mary Jane sneakers... but some items of clothing are just...too young. You wouldn't catch me in a mini skirt. Or a tank top (unless I'm mowing the yard).

As I pass through my everyday life I am seeing more and more people wearing clothes that just make them look desperate to maintain that "youthful" vibe. Gah. Whatever. It doesn't come off as youthful, either. It comes off as desperate. Just plain desperate. 40+ year old women with Pamela Anderson breasts stuffed into a small baby doll tshirt at the grocery store--it just ruins my appetite. You should never show your mid-driff in public after the age of 20-ish unless you are involved in a horrible accident which causes you to pass out--and then the wind blows your tshirt up (a la Oprah, in "The Color Purple"). And just because your boobies look 20-something, doesn't mean the rest of you does.

Same thing with men. I know it's supposedly harder for men to accept the come of "middle age" --that's why men get bombarded with the big nickname of "Midlife Crisis"...you never really hear that about women. Men try to appear younger by buying clothes that should appear on teenagers. Or buying expensive sporty cars...or dating women young enough to be their daughters. It just makes them look SAD. And OLD.

I suppose it makes them all feel better to dress like they are 29. Or date people half their age. But how hot will they feel when they realise everyone is laughing at them behind their backs. Or their younger partners decide to date someone who can keep up with them?

Act your age people. Or at least from your own generation...

PS: You're so vain, you probably think this post is about you, don't you? Don't you?!

Is THIS What I'm Going To be Doing All Year?...

2009-01-02T07:41:00.000-08:00

Have you ever heard the dumb ole wives tale/saying that "what ever you are doing when the new year rings in, is what you will be doing all year"? I sincerely hope it's not true.

I had high hopes for New Year's Eve. But Karma reminded me that just when you think it's gonna be good--be prepared to be disappointed. I won't go into specifics here, mainly because I don't REALLY want you to know how really crazy I am, but my husband and 3 of his 4 kids came home about 8PM with pizza and movies. I had already had a glass or two or three of wine. I sorta started the party without them. Needless to say, after a bath and a slice of pizza--I was asleep in bed. By 10PM. They tried to get me up for fireworks at midnight. But I was soooo tired. I know what you are thinking. And no, I was not passed out.

So, if the wives tale is right, I will either be sooooo tired all year. Or asleep in bed. Alone. While everyone else parties and has a good time. Great.

PS: "the diet" started yesterday. And at 10pm we made a run to Taco Bell. I'm a failure. Already. Again. sigh.

Thank You For Visiting My Planet...

2008-12-31T12:01:00.000-08:00

My new little thing here is getting almost as much traffic as my old blog. I see old faces stopping by (Hi ex brother and sister in law!) and new ones from different countries. Thanks for either following me over here--or stopping by because you saw some asinine comment I left somewhere else and thought "who the hell does she think she is?" and clicked on my lil ole name. Makes me feel special that you all can't seem to keep away--heck! Some of you come by twice or more per day--and I'm pretty sure it isn't that crazy guy I dated for a month.

So Happy New Years, fools! And thanks for visiting.

Ninja Kitty...

2008-12-30T13:19:00.000-08:00

I love this. Looooove it. Wanna bury my nose in it and rub his little head...

http://video.yahoo.com/network/100000086?v=3510825

I Ripped My Pants...

2008-12-30T09:43:00.000-08:00

On Thursday I start depriving myself of good tasting things to eat and drink. OK. I will not deprive myself of a good beer or glass of wine, but I WILL stop eating alot of yummy tasting, chock-full of fat stuff. And only eat a normal sized portion. With a tiny baby spoon and shrimp fork on a Frito Bean Dip lid--that way I feel like my plate is full--it should work, don't ya think?

Anyways, today I was reminded of WHY I must do this. And no, I don't mean when I looked at myself in the mirror as I climbed out of the smokey shower. That is why I take HOT showers. It fogs the mirror and I *can't* see myself. I'm talking about when I unlocked the office door after my "errand" trip to the Post Office and Bank. The door to my "building" is metal. and I caught my pants on the jagged metal and ripped my jeans. And now...now, my ass is hanging out. And it isn't pretty. And I know this because I contorted myself and took a picture of my backside with my cell phone. To send to my loving husband.

His response? "LOL!!" That's *it*?!? I ripped my pants, my assssss is hanging out at work, literally, and all he can say is "LOL!!"??? I need to lose some weight. So that the next time I send him a picture of my ass he might think of something risque' and sexy to say. Not fall down on the ground laughing at my cold white rear. Sigh.

PS: I can't leave the office until lunch--so, yeah. I'm wearing a jacket tied around my waist. But it's still a bit drafty in here.

Tiffs, Scratches And Bruises...

2008-12-29T12:26:00.000-08:00

I get my feelings hurt easily. I try not to care what others might THINK or say in regards to me--but, yeah. I do. I care. If I walk into a room and 2-3 women are huddled together, talking and they look up and make eye contact with me--then go back to huddling and whispering--I am CONVINCED they are talking about me. And not in a good way. Instead of going over and saying "hello" or "let's take it outside, you bitch!!" I tend to want to crawl into a corner and lick my wounds--or run to the bathroom to see if I have a booger hanging out of my nose. Where I will then stay--because, my gawd! They are out there TALKING about me...

But when it comes to my kids... That is the only time I might get ballsy and kick some real or pretend ass. Today my Sweets took me and his oldest two kids (12 and 11 tomorrow) to lunch. I then proceeded to tell a lovely tale of how my ex husband is being mean to my 17 year old. She was his only bright spot--he spoiled her awful...until she started spending more time with me. Now he no longer takes her out to eat or to the movies or attempts to help her with the new car he insisted she allow him to buy her. Now he has a new sweet thing. She's 20 years his junior...and he plans to marry her soon. So he informed my 17 year old last night that he wouldn't be able to help her for a few months--because he has an engagement ring to buy. This upset my 17 year old--alot. As you could imagine. While trying to tell this tale--my NEW husbands basically says "Well--she wants to be treated like an adult--she should stop whining about having to pay her $400 car payment..." THIS pissed me off. Because this man, whom I love more than I ever thought was possible--seems to be picking the side of my ex asshole over me and mine. Plus, this lover of mine has had financial issues as an ADULT and was lucky enough to have parents who covered and carried his ass when he needed it. So...my heart beat faster. My voice started to strain. My eyes felt full of unshed tears. And I went to the restroom. Where I spent a good 10 minutes. Trying to calm myself down. Lower my blood pressure. And I decided: Maybe some things are better left unsaid. I won't enlighten him of the pressures and problems of MY 17 year old. This is my burden to bear. He wasn't helping me--so I will keep it to myself. Less likely to get scratched and bruised that way. But this feels wrong. I still have a huge lump in my throat.

This post will not be up long. I HATE to say anything negative about my Sweets--but this is my REAL life here folks... this isn't a Disney movie. Sometimes it's a comedy. Sometimes it's a action adventure. And sometimes it's a drama. And sometimes it's just sad.

Nymphomaniacs Are Us...

2008-12-29T06:29:00.001-08:00

In my first marriage, sex wasn't a HUGE thing. Ok, well, to ME it wasn't. Not that it wasn't good... It was fine after we got started, but it wasn't something I thought about all day. Wasn't something I craved. I didn't dream about it at night, 1 hour after we had sex. Not even in the "honeymoon" days. And that marriage lasted 19 years...

But, now? My second marriage?? Ohhhh myyyy. I think about it constantly. Body parts get all tingly when I just LOOK at him. I can't get enough of him. We text each other all day. Teasing and flirting. He brings me breakfast by my office. All day long it's foreplay. By the time we both make it home, I can't see straight. I've never felt like this. Is this "a woman in her prime"? If so--dammmnnnnn!

We don't take days "off" either. Heck, I feel lost if it's just once a day! I'm not bragging...I'm really stumped by this--but I don't want it changed. I wanna be 80 years old, bending over in my t-shirt and socks, in front of the Lakers game--just to get a "rise" outta him--hee hee. And you know what makes it *really* good? He's a man with a HEALTHY appetite too. We both are sex crazed. But who knew?

If my ex husband knew my sex appetite now...he'd be wondering "WTH?! What happened to her?" What happened to me? hmmmm... I dunno. Except I feel special. I feel important. I feel wanted and needed. I feel sexy. And all those things add up to some HOT sex--or in our case, ALOT of hot sex.

So, if you are not having sex everyday...my sympathy. And if you are? YOU GO!

Ok, Christmas Has Been Saved...

2008-12-24T07:21:00.000-08:00

My Sweets called me last night and asked me if I could go to WalMart for him (he was still at work). He needed me to pick up some cat litter and a cat litter box, Meow mix and a collar. ??

He then quickly informed me that it wasn't for HIM--but for a friend. Whatever.

He brought me the most adorable kitten/cat. He's orange/white tabby. Scrawny. Dirty. In need of LOTS of TLC. Just what a depressed person needs. A small, soft creature...that loves you. Rubs their little head on your shin. Purrs and reaches their little paws out for more scratching. A little baby that needs me. Wants me. So happy to just quietly sit in my lap. Kneading my thigh. Happy to just BE with me.

I now can't wait to go home for lunch. Someone is waiting for me. And they LOVE me. And they need me...just enough.

His name is Earl.

I Don't "DO" Christmas Very Well...

2008-12-23T07:06:00.000-08:00

The last week has been par for the course around here. Christmas time is a stressful time anyways. But add a manic/depressive, 2 jobs, 7 kids and a small 3 bedroom house--it's not pretty. Then, for good measure, sprinkle in a 3 year old who has diarrhea. A 12 year old with anger issues and a 6 year old who is being managed by ADHD meds--but *that* is being counter acted by the sugar cookies he has stolen and hidden under his bed.

Saturday and Sunday I had a break down. I told all the kids that the slave/maid was quitting. I told them that the next person who inflicted violence of ANY sort on another living thing would perish at MY hands. I told them that NOTHING liquid would be ingested at my house except water--and they had to be SITTING in the bathtub to enjoy THAT.

On Sunday, they all left. I drank more than my share of spirits. And with every sip...instead of relaxing and feeling better--I felt worse. I feel my life is out of control. I feel I am NOT cut out to Mother 7 children (eight if you include the semi adult who resides with us that I never see)... Plus I suck at being a good wife--and not in the good sense either. My house is a disaster. I feel mean, mad and sad. I AM mean, mad and sad. I feel downright Grinchy.

Christmas music gets on my last nerve, peppermint sticks and candy canes make my stomach turn sour. Green, red...gag. Women wearing Christmas ornaments as earrings should have them ripped from their ears. How dare they pretend to be trees!? Are they retarded? Hot chocolate...even my boss has offered me hot chocolate! WTF? really. W. T. F.

I just want it all to be over. I really just want to run away. FAR away. Maybe become a waitress in a pub in Ireland. Have a tiny room. Just a bed and dresser. A book to read. No house to clean. Massive laundry to do. No ass to wipe. No koolaid to mop up. No heads of hair to wash. Just me. Me. Me.

Let me know when it's Spring. I'll think about coming back then...

My Miserable, Lonely Lesbian Pregnancy...

2008-12-16T14:44:00.000-08:00

No, no, no. Not *mine*. Andrea's. Andrea Askowitz. And as quoted " You don’t have to be a miserable, lonely, pregnant lesbian to enjoy this book.”

Buy it for all your friends. And all your foes.

http://andreaaskowitz.com/?p=318

Andrea's a cool chick. She writes amazingly funny stories.

*she doesn't know I'm plugging her (darn. THAT sounded gay).

Let The Games Begin...

2008-12-16T09:54:00.001-08:00

I have decided to have a New Years resolution this year. One I really am serious about trying to stick to all year. It involves eating better and eating less. AND drinking less. I would like to lose 15-20#. And I would like to be able to exercise without puking. And I would like to love being 41 even more than I do being 40--to accomplish this I need to be able to bend over without pain. And I'd like to be able to wear those size 7 jeans hanging in my closet. And the shirts that cling to my chest--well, they cling to my fat rolls also. But I can not be denied--It's not Jan 1st yeeeeetttt.

I have 15 days left to overindulge in both food and alcohol. Food should be easy--Christmas fare is abundant this time of year. Alcohol will be harder. After December 31st I will only partake in a glass of wine a few times per week. No more Sweets and I laying in front of the fridge with the spout open on the boxed wine--yelling each other on to victory!

So my next few days will be full of sausage balls, sugar cookies, ham wraps and pecan pie. My nights will include Raspberry Long Island Iced Teas, Vodka and OJ and Whiskey Sours. You should enjoy yourselves too!! I mean, I know that most of you will have the same resolution as I do--tho some of you will outwardly deny it--as to not appear to be a massive LOSER on January 2nd. But you should enjoy yourselves NOW. Get it while the getting is good, that's what I say. You deserve to pleasure yourself with food and drink--you suffered hard this past year. I know I did. Diagnosed as Bipolar II. Divorced after 19 years of marriage. Became trailer park trash--moved into a double wide...that even *I* find hard to afford. Met the man of my dreams and his four kids. Was lucky enough to trick him into marrying me (hee hee). Became unemployed. And found a job that is both enjoyable and easy--that pays quite well also. 2009 will be a banner year.

Join me in telling 2008 "kiss-m-ass" and "buh-bye". May your 2009 be leaner in the gut and fatter in the wallet!!

Working For A Living...

2008-12-15T08:36:00.000-08:00

Last you heard from me, back on the oooold blog, was that I had a part time job. I still do. And now I have a full time job also. I'm working about 60 hours a week right now. Fifteen to twenty hours are spent at the mall. I'm a fragrance rep. Which means I stand around and ask you "Would you like to try *XYZ*?" I am not on commission. Strictly by the hour. And I make $16.00 per hour to offer you to sniff the latest and the greatest. The fragrance I sell is the top seller at our local mall. In both women's and men's. So, the work isn't hard. It sells itself. I just have to stand around for 7-8 hours and smile. And it's fun.

My new full time job is for a "dirt" company. We haul rock, dirt, asphalt. We'll "we" don't. I work in the office. A glorified secretary. The pay is really good here too. But I'm in the office alone--for the most part. I've been here 5 days--and got a $100 bonus today. Kewl, eh?

But I am exhausted. And getting sick. I can't do this much longer--work two jobs I mean. I wish I could, but it's killing me. My nose is stuffed up. I feel like I haven't slept in three days. My eyeballs are literally TIRED. So, although I like the tinkley sound of money in my purse, I might have to quit the 'smell good' job. And just play in the dirt. I sorta like working around all these men too. They are quiet, nice and gentlemenly--surprising for a bunch of dirt hogs. But nice. So, if ya need a pad built for your new home, or a pond for your pasture, or asphalt on your parking lot...give us a call. The girl in the office is realllll nice.

Allow Me To (re)Introduce Myself...

2008-12-12T13:55:00.000-08:00

It's me. Martie. Formerly of http://uncontainedchaos.blogspot.com
Had to leave the old blog due to--well, I just had to.

Give me a few days. I'll let you into a world full of crazy antics. I like to call it "MY LIFE".

Main characters in my life:

Sweets--my husband since Oct. 25th 2008. My best friend. My hearts (and a few other body parts) desire. FUNNY.

Calie:--my 17 yr old. Beautiful. Not gonna say much else.
Claudia:-- my 8 yr old. Bossy. Moody. Beautiful.
Carson:--my 6 yr old. Severe ADHD son with a sprinkle of Oppositional Defiant Disorder. LOVE him.
Caden:--my 3 year old. 4 in April 09, and JUST potty trained.

Richard:-- aged 45: was my husband for 19 years. Now, he's just my babys daddy.
Miss A:--my ex's 25 year old girlfriend (soon to marry I'm sure).

The Beast:--my honey's exwife. This one is a tad crazy. And paranoid.

Now ME:--5'8", currently 155 (but determined to lose 15#). Blonde. Blue eyes. I'm a tad dramatic--and I'm told I'm funny on occassion. I'm 40. But I act 12ish. I'm Bipolar. But medicated--and under control. I'm in love. I like to laugh. I like to tell you everything. Sometimes it's TMI. Sometimes I cuss. Sometimes I drink--OK, more than sometimes--but not every night. I enjoy being 40. Did you ever hear that women are in their prime at 40? It's soooo true (see, here's some TMI stuff)!!

Check back soon.