Damn My Ex 

so marie, my then wife, and i went to a fast food seafood place.  you know short bob gold’s, and she tells me to get her extra hushpuppies.  so i come back with our order and extra hushpuppies (3).  she flips out, flips out!

apparently,extra means at least a dozen.  what did i end up getting her to get her to shut up?? two dozen, that’s 24 hushpuppies “on the side”.

and you thought this post was about boobs.

marie ate a lot. A LOT.  i mean, two gooey butter cakes by herself in one sitting.  an entire tub of meringue cookies.  unbaked muffins.  you know, just the batter?  uncooked pie crust.  a real health nut.

post-divorce, we’re talking on the phone.

“by the way, my doctor told me that i’m hypoglycemic,” she tells me.

my thought, you eat so damn much, how can you tell?

so marie starts getting child support checks.  she decides to spend it on whatever she wants.  so she buys two gooey butter cakes.  you know, the essentials.

she goes into her room, and eats them both.

she comes back out with the empty boxes.  i ask if she really ate them both.

“yeah, is that a lot?”

marie refused to eat mac n’ cheese. REFUSED. i thought she just didn’t like it.  after all, this was a woman who claimed to be lactose intolerant so she wouldn’t have to drink milk, but could easily down an entire cheesecake by herself.

nope.  turns out, she had a babysitter or something who would make mac n’ cheese and then make her watch pippi longstocking, and marie didn’t like the movie.  my thought is, okay, don’t watch the flick!  no, poor, poor, marie just refused to eat mac n’ cheese instead. (of course, every time she saw it, heard someone mention it, or even thought of it, she just had to go over the whole damn story like you had never heard it before)