In bizarro world, I’m on my second husband. Just right behind Christie Brinkley and JLo.
Because I can’t go a single, solitary summer weekend without pissing in a port-o-potty, I did my part to support Amtrak and went to the big BoDeans concert in breathtaking Peru, Ill-a-noise.
I was wandering around the crowd there on Saturday, trying to find my “friends” who ditched me like an unwanted child at the Taste when I went to meet up with my sister (“They’ll text me or call, I just know it,” I repeated to myself hopefully).
From behind me I heard, “Hey! Did you get married again?”
I turned to find this guy I knew from back in the day. He apparently thought I married this buffoon from college (and consequently took his name) and then remarried recently. There’s an Angie Buffoon in town, thus the confusion. I set him straight and went on my quest to find Drunk, Drunker, and Drunkest. I was somewhere in between Drunker and Drunkest, fyi.
Anyway, I’ve decided to put my fabulous imagination to work and concoct a sordid past that I’ll have friends spread about me. What I’ve really been up to during the past 10-15 years is awfully bland, well most of it is. So if anyone has any ideas . . . let ‘em rip!