Princess of Irony

You got it� bucket of crazy was wife number three.

Issue Date: Monday, Jul. 12, 2004

I have on the ugliest shoes ever invented, made, dreamt up, fabricated, designed and or brought to reality. I found them during the move� and this morning in my rush to leave, I couldn�t find my trusty Enzos so I grabbed these out of the garage (garage, not garbage) and slapped them on my tootsies.

Seriously. You can�t imagine the suckitude.

Check it� navy blue loafers, with a gold detail bar-thingy on the top. Schnnnnnnaaazzy!

Hideous. Truly.

My outfit is thus: Navy blue blouse, tan pants with subtle pattern, my tin-cup necklace, pearl earrings� And the Shoes Of Ass!

Ok. So the gossip.

My ex-sister-in-law� Debra Jean (or Trixie �round these parts) was married to Little G. Little G was my ex-husband�s (X) brother. She and I were best girlfriends in college and ended up marrying brothers. Yes, yes, very redneck of us� shut it. It wasn�t planned or anything, really. No. Really.

Anyway. After I left X, Trixie made her escape soon after. I will leave the details of her escape to Houston for her to tell. It was pretty much like my escape to Dallas, just with more stops at McDonald�s for the kids (she has two) and less drinking, smoking and profanity.

Or� one would think!

X married soon after I left, as a matter of fact, the only thing holding him up from replacing me was my court date to see the judge. He actually called me to ask me to hurry the hell up. Yeah, class all the way baby! Nothin�s too good for me!

It actually took Little G a few years to remarry after Trixie left. But remarry he did. A local bucket o� crazy by the name of� um shit, � No� Shit is not her name, I just can�t remember it. Regardless, he did remarry, like two months ago.

Guess what. Yeah, you could tell this was coming, couldn�t you?

Yeah, they are getting divorced.

My ex-father-in-law, Big G is on his third wife. He was on his third wife before his thirtieth birthday.

X? Yep, wife number three.

And Little G? You got it� bucket of crazy was wife number three.

Between the three of them, they have had nine wives. Nine. Hello. Um, NINE! Trix and I were number six and seven� if you are playing the home game.

They are NOT worried about diluting their gene (Ha!�just for you Trix� ain�t I punny?) pool. Just the opposite, apparently they are out to gather a small harem for their wicked matriarchal bitch of a mother to lord over with her bible-thumping passive aggressive ways.

Bitter much?

So� anyways, Trix and I had a good laugh over that yesterday afternoon. Laughing at her ex-husband�s expense? You bet�cher ass buddy!

Do you guys like my new layout? Isn�t it all somber and serious looking?

Hee!

Like a real newspaper no? No? Really? I think it is quite smashing. Props and a big ol� shout out to OZ for the new design.

I was reading the latest entry over at Amalah about her make up� and I have to admit, I seriously have a problem.

She�s got this cute little silver box thingy from Sephora that has pull out drawers, and levels, and sprinkles. I want that box. I loave that box. Yes, loave.

Hmmm� That sounded sort of pornish.

If I had that box, would my makeup and potions and lotions and powders be organized? Uh, no. I would still have like eleven products from Clarins sitting on my bathroom counter. I would still have a travel bag with products bursting at the seams. I would still have a spa bag that I insist on taking everywhere with me. A spa bag that has glitter eyeliner and black/gold eye shadow huddled in its� depths. I would still carry a makeup bag in my purse everyday in case those two other bags get lost and my house burns down.

I have every shade, color, texture and combination of lip gloss and lip stick that is available to a consumer. I have clear, I have deep red and I have everything in between. I have vitamin E sticks hidden in my nightstand, my husband�s nightstand, in my purse and on my bathroom counter. I slather my lips with vitamins every night right after I apply one of my myriads of hand lotions to my hands, elbows and feet.

I want to be soft, supple and smooth.

I want the variances of my green/blue eyes to show with the choice of eyeliner and eye shadow.

I want my lips to scream to Mister� Kiss Me! I am soft and dewy!

I love L�Oreal Voluminous Mascara and my Revlon eyelash curler with something akin to rabid devotion.

Apparently I have a problem.

Now, if you�ll excuse me, I have a manicure appointment to get to.

I bet the women at the salon are gonna laugh at my shoes.

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