Tuesday, April 2, 2013

new life, new blog, old story...

For those of you who are new to my blog, let me give you a little background info. I started my old blog, MalibuTrophyWife, about nine months ago. Back then I wrote blithely of my ‘perfect’ life and shared a recipe or household tip each week. Talk about self-delusion. My perfect life recently imploded. For those of you who are continuing to follow me from before, the tone of this new blog will be totally different from what you guys are used to reading. (I’m keeping the recipes and tips, though!)

My name is Alexis Wiseman, at least it was for nine-point-nine-nine years. Part of me still feels like Alexis Matthews, even though I only called myself that for about a year, after I moved to Los Angeles to become an actress. After I married ‘Barney’ (not his real name, but it should be, the dirtyrottenbastard!) life was all rainbows and cupcakes. I could leave my spotty past behind and finally ‘be somebody’. I drew on the name Wiseman like a nutria-lined trench coat. Barney is a ‘Producer’ with a capital ‘P’, but only for television. He specializes in reality shows - big surprise. Even still, on our wedding day I felt like I’d won the lottery. Amazing how things can just turn on a dime. Anyhow, I’m hanging on to my married name. It might be the only thing I get out of the divorce.

My regular readers know that I’ve been silent for awhile. It’s because my husband – soon to be ex-husband – has gone insane and left me for a life-sized, primarily plastic human doll I like to call ‘Pea-Brain Barbie’.
I spent last week reading my old blog posts. Seriously, I can’t believe how clueless I was. For example, awhile back Barney seemed to lose interest in sex. I just thought it was prostate problems. I mean, he’s 56, after all! Then he started to spend more and more nights in town - ‘working’. Can you say “someone’s got a bimbo on the side”?
I guess I wasn’t completely oblivious. I know I was depressed. Even though I’ve taken down my old blog, in the interest of bringing you all up to speed, here’s how my mind was working…

“No wonder Barney seems distant. I caught a look at myself in the mirror today. Damn. I look like an FLDS sister wife. My hair hasn’t been touched up in weeks and I was wearing a t-shirt and a jumper. I mean, honestly – a jumper? At least it wasn’t denim (shudder!) but still…I guess I’ve been more depressed than I realized. Ok, so, today is all about beauty-911, lunch, and shopping.”
Pathetic, huh? What’s worse is that I thought a little sprucing up would actually make a difference.

“This last week was hectic, but I’m feeling back to normal. Franco restored my hair! Where there was straw, now there’s cornsilk. A French mani/pedi cleared up the nails. My face is still a wee bit red, but an intensive European facial will do that. I feel a little sore – maybe three yoga sessions right out of the gate was a bit much but all-in-all I feel fabulous. I met with Nadia, my cosmetic surgeon. We’re discussing the possibility of a forehead lift this spring and fractal laser on my face, neck, and decollete. No more tanning beds! From here on out it’s spray tanning and SPF 100!”
I’m reading the post again and it makes me want to cry. There won’t be any mani/pedis, let alone fractal lasers, in my foreseeable future. On my current income I can just about afford a new pack of emery boards. When I’m done with my nails I’ll just use the damn things to resurface my face.

Ok, well, that’s my life so far. Tune in next week for the latest gory details.

BTW, in the interest of protecting myself from libel, slander, or whatever, all the names in my blog and profile have been changed. Except my first name – that’s real. Just sayin’…
Recipes and Household Tips for the Recently Impoverished - Tip # 1
Did you know that you can use mayonnaise to clean the leaves of houseplants? I didn't either! The bigger question is what was mayonnaise doing in my apartment in the first place? Anyhow, you can polish your dusty ficus leaves with a dab of mayo on a soft cloth (or just rub it off your fingers after consuming a Subway sandwich at 2am while watching 'An Officer and a Gentleman' for the twenty-seventh time and crying your eyes out - again.

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