Madlibby’s Weblog

So I keep getting up and putting on my smile and telling all the good stories and spending time with new interesting people. I stay active and involved and meet new people and try new things, but. but. but I don’t want to get up and I don’t want to tell the good stories and I don’t want to be active or – or – or. I just want to spend time with a myth. And I’m disgusted with my self-involvement and my pink shaded memories and I’m ready to want to do the things that I make myself do so I can move on.
It’s Friday for fucks sake and Friday is a good thing. I am reminded of a cure song. hahahaha. fuuuuuck. help. What a silly miserable thing. I am by myself betrayed.

Where is the vermouth? Also what is vermouth?

Shaken please,
MadLibby

I wrote this a few months ago. I was in agony…

I’ve got to talk to somebody and I cannot afford a shrink, so that is why I’m doing this. And…no I don’t WANT to fight with her again. Over and over just running into that knife – what? It’s my fault, right. I keep running into it…but I’m not the knife! How can you blame me? Hmmm.

Now I have no clue who it is about. hahahahaha. Oh Libby, you’re a silly broad.

xoxo,

MadLibby

Occasionally you will need help or direction. You will feel alone and like you might start crying in the middle of a dull conference call or painful yoga class. You have a few options…

1. drink whiskey
2. check out self- help blogs
3. write hate emails
4. look up the youtube from burning man of “oh the places you’ll go”

Good luck out there.

Remember – “If you let go a little, you will have a little peace. If you let go a lot, you will have a lot of peace.” Pretty sure that is from chicken soup for the future cat-owner’s soul, but I’ll take it.

xoxo,
MadLibby

It’s a jungle out there.  On the internet I mean.  Sometimes it is nearly impossible to derive meaning from the profiles of possible suitors, so I have developed the following guideline to help you understand what kind of crazy expectations these ugg-os have for their lady friends.

1. He has pictures in a military uniform – He is poor and will beat you.

2. “I am active and want a woman who takes care of herself” – He’s a douchbag and you better be hot.

3. “I’m funny” – wrong

4. “I’m sarcastic” – he is a dick

5. “I’m very close with my family” – His mom breastfed him until he was 13

6. “I make $100,000+ a year” – seriously you put that?

It should be pretty clear at this point that people are lying out there.  I am the only normal and decent person trying to find a super wealthy, tall, interesting man with a full head of hair, reasonable exercise schedule/vocabulary/interest in books and art, who wants to marry and support a funny, fake red-head with too many opinions and big thighs.  How is this hard?  It really shouldn’t be.  Boys are such jerks.

xoxo,

MadLibby

No SERIOUSLY. Girl – stop stalking. Stalking never gets you anywhere but in high blood-pressure/angry cajun town.

However, occasionally, you will be required to do a little stalking. And when you find some bad shit (you ALWAYS find bad shit) – you will call him. This will be a mistake. You will say D***Head I saw XYZ…then your neck will get real hot and your face will turn a touch red and you can say, “oh my this wine is making me hot.” But sister – no one will believe your dumb ass. You done stalked a D***Head and that don’t get you no where but trouble.

**Also – stalking turns you into Paula Dean and you suddenly want to cook something with bacon fat.

Anyway – back to it. DH will DENY said fuck up, even though you have clear evidence that he did xyANDz and will start to make you think maybe you had it all wrong. DO NOT BE MISLEAD. You are a diva – you know the truth.  DH is a D***Head! Believe it. He will say some nice things sprinkled in with awful things. You will feel better and worse. You will feel stronger and wiser and more pathetic than before. You will want a manicure. You will take two advil and blog about it.

Then you will watch Friday Night Lights.

Tomorrow you will focus your yoga practice on self-love and you will blog about idiots on Match.com.

Tomorrow is another day.

night night,

MadLibby