Meet Crazy...

“I'm crazy.” That's what I told my boyfriend on our first date. We'll call him Bear for the sake of this blog. Bear and I dove into the whole cohabitation thing last year and became a party of five. FIVE. In a three bedroom house. Do you know how much chaos is inevitably packed into each and every day when you cram five people into one teeny, tiny house? Well, stick around, you just might find out. But I digress.

I warned him upfront that I’m crazy. I know most women are in denial about this fact of life but I am honest about it. It is a fact and I frankly enjoy it. I tried to be normal for a long time. It wasn’t fun. It didn’t save my marriage. It sucked. No more normal. I’m gonna be me. Crazy, wacky, messy, goofy, sometime bitchy me. How crazy am I? Party of five crazy.

Meet our  group:

Bear - the Marine

Momma - the crazy mess

Bubba - the football player

Princess - the drama queen in the making

Goober - the little guy

My two contributions are Princess, the teenager girl who claims to hate drama while creating it over the simplest little thing. For instance, did you know that socks are a highly dramatic topic? They can be. Fun times. And then there’s Goober. Oh the joys of Kindergarten. Yup, one in high school and one just starting out- I planned that well, eh?

Bear has a teenage son, we’re calling him Bubba because he hates that name and Bear thinks it’s funny to annoy the teens. Not that Bear is reading this. Neither will the teens, but it’s fun to know that they would be annoyed. Life’s pleasures really are simple. Crazy simple.

Warnings you might want to know before you stalk my posts:

I really am crazy and I overuse words like crazy, epic and amazing.

I’m not going to apologize for anything I write. Ever.

I’m looking for an outlet. Your enjoyment is not necessary, it’s a bonus.

I’m in love so I might get sappy.

I’m a momma so I will talk about kids. Mostly mine.

I like beer, boobs, bacon and the beach. B is a good letter.

I can’t remember shit. No seriously, what was I writing a list for?

My goal this year, not a resolution - just a hope, is to write down the funny things that happen in my life and share them. Also to stop holding in the things which piss me off. So I should probably add to the list that I might bitch a lot of crap out of my system. I don’t want to be a negative ninny, but I don’t want to become a stick of dynamite waiting to be lit.

Have fun. Or don’t. It makes no difference. Is anyone still reading this? Eh, I think it’s time for another adult beverage. Peace!