Okay, so now for something completely out of left field - honesty. What've I got to lose but the embarrassment of trying to explain inconsistencies if/when we actually meet?



Basically, I am a typical single woman pushing 40. NOT, mind you, typical in the 'Sex and the City' sense, but typical in the real-life, 'pitifully lonely with tons of baggage and a harem of cats' sense. I have, however, been married before and have suffered through several seriously fucked long-term relationships that I will happily tell you about if you're brave enough to ask or if I happen to hit the vodka a bit too hard before we meet.



I am neither big nor beautiful, but rather painfully average in both appearance and weight, if slightly above average in height. Photos are available upon request, but to give you a basic idea, I'm pretty much what anyone would envision from the words 'Irish Peasant Woman'. I'm built for utility, not aesthetics, but boy can I dig those praties. I'm death-white by nature, covered in freckles, and have been warned that overexposure to sun might cause me to spontaneously combust. Oh yeah, and I'm ginger. But I'm also addicted to strange hair dyes, so this likely won't be a problem for too long.



I'm immature, hyperactive, drink too much, and have a tendency towards using the filthiest language imaginable. I also lack tact. If you can't deal with the truth, laid out before you in very colourful terms, chances are you can't deal with me.















You still here? Haha....good man. Drop me a line. And stop looking at me like that, for FUCK'S sake! You're looking for dates on Craigslist, dude.