White Spandex and Scrunchies

In the wake of my Midwest tour, I'm going to seal off that bottle with some Kid Rock tonight.  I feel torn in seeing one of Mitten's Finest in a Chicago venue.  Being true to myself, I should wear nothing but my Red Wings jersey and possibly some hoop earrings.  I'm afraid that if I rock the hockey sweater, people will feel the need to punch me in the face because most Blackhawk fans are "ignint."



I don't really know any of the Kid's songs however, I can always people watch.  Or, be "that guy" and wear a Kid Rock concert t-shirt.  Don't be that guy.

Chris and I saw our engagement photo pictures.  Holy crap.  My ass is in fact fat and I can confirm that I am not photogenic.  My hair looked good and that's about it.

I dont think Barbizon Modeling School is going to be banging down my door.  The photographer emailed me the link to see the gallery and I about died laughing as I reviewed it.


http://honeyandlight.smugmug.com/Weddings/engagement/Jennie

PASSWORD: Monforton

Glamour Shots

Chris and I had our "engagement photo session" on Monday.  Ha.  First of all, I look like an ogre in all pictures.  Two, Chris is seriously the most photogenic person I know.  Third, I don't recommend Graue Mill in the middle of August = mosquitoes galore.  Fourth and finally, I look 46 lbs. heavier in snapshots.

Maybe I should pimp Chris out as his manager and put together a "book" for him to take on "go sees."  GQ look out.

I am on the road this week.  Fortunately, my work took me to Cincinnati and Indy, the land of fat people and 1991 rap music.  Instead of a crummy hotel, I am shacking at the Casa de Greta, i.e. Carrie and Dave's house.  This place is like the lap of luxury, with more dogs and more burp cloths.

It's been a full month since last seeing Miss Greta Dumpy Drawers.  What a difference 4 weeks makes.  Literally, she has changed from "newborn" to baby.  Her elbows and knees are porkier and she is definitely more "aware" of her surroundings.  On the verge of a full-on smile, Greta does cute things with her tongue and LOVES her hands.  I can't get enough of that little stinker-- I wonder if Carrie and Dave would be upset if I packed her away in my pocket and got outta dodge?  I mean really, would they notice?

Confession-- I got fake nails today.  After weeks and weeks of nawing away at my phalanges, my nubs are most def tattered.  I feel like I injure Kasia every time I rub her ears.  Opting for a light shade of pink, the new nails look somewhat better.  Like putting earrings on a pig, I will never have Adrienne's long, piano-playing fingers, so I have finally accepted my sausage fingers.  I'm just thankful I have a super small engagement ring, then shit would look real whack.  This doesnt mean I'm getting a weave.  For the record.

Furbaby Jerky

I hate to be the bearer of bad news however, there are few dark events that hath taken place over the past week.  In no specific order, please read below:

1.)  Jani Lane, frontman for the internationally popular band Warrant, died this past Thursday.  Belting out such hits as "Uncle Tom's Cabin," "I Saw Red" and "Cherry Pie," Jani had amazingly permed hair and was often seen wearing white leather pants (the "Heaven" video).



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rrSdXtFJG20&ob=av2e

2.)  The baby furbabies that had posted up in our backyard are now grown and long gone.  Actually, they aren't long gone; I held one on Friday.  Since the babies are still pretty small and super smooshy/soft, I was able to catch one as it hopped away.  Not only squatty and porky in girth, this little rabbit fell asleep in my hand.  Holy Jesus and smack my momma.  For the sake of our dog's sanity, I hope the rabbits don't come back for a repeat birthing experience.

3.)  Greta is growing.  I know, shocking.  Miss Thang is now bordering on 12.5 lbs of pure softness and gaining.  No longer a baby wood nymph with magical fairy wings and outfitted in "newborn sized" diapers, Margaret Elizabeth is practically a teenager.



I proposed shrinking serum in Greta's breast milk, but Carrie mumbled something about CPS.  Whatever.

My Super Sweet 16

I have just taken an emotional dump.  That's right.  A grumper.  Chris and I ordered our invitations today.  Holy shit.  I wish there was a free injection of heroin or a case of Mad Dog to injest before embarking on such a task.  I was literally sitting in front of my laptop for 3 hours checking, double-checking and revising every element of the invites.  Not only do I have a headache but I've missed out on almost an entire Sunday of antics (laying around, watching a marathon of American Pickers, changing sweatpants, rubbing Kasia's ears).  The only thing that would've been worse is a hangover combined with the wedding shananagins.  Good thing Chris has been sleeping the entire time.... what a big help he's been.



Since my mom is in town, which has been awesome, I have been briefing her on wedding details.  The topic of wedding music came up and apparently, we are in a mild disagreement.  I need to circle the wagons and figure out a lyrical agenda for all things November 19th.  I want something nontraditional for our ceremony...... don't worry, there won't be an electric slide down the aisle.



The same goes for moonwalking, the cha-cha slide or anything involving props.  I'm not ok with that crap.  In fact, I used to think large groups of choreographed numbers were cool-- YouTube ruined that.  Now, every wedding with 20-somethings has a 30 second split of slow music followed by a Michael Jackson tune.  Come on peeps... let's get original.  Plus, the moves showcased are usually executed poorly/borderline offensive in suckiness and lack rhythm.



WHAT WOULD BE RAD IS A New Dance Show style of dancing.  We can bring back the timeless Detroit-style runway and bust a move.



Fat Sausages

My favorite thing about Greta is her sausageness.  When she was first hatched, Greta was a tiny little thing with very little pork on her rump.  After leaving the hospital and getting more comfortable in her permanent digs, Greta has begun to thicken up.  Compliments of weezing the juice from Carrie and lots of hugs, Miss Greta is beginning to grow a "back." 

She has a small amount of peanut butter on her hands and feet, but the prime stuff is located on her shoulders.  (see photo above)  Her skin is super soft like a baby bird.  I'm glad she isn't one of those fat babies; the one you look at and think "Holy shit.  Is that kid's mom feeding it lard and Mountain Dew?"



Furbaby Report:

I'm happy to share that the baby furbabies shacking up in our backyard are growing nicely.  With very careful, gingerly hands, I check on their nest every morning.  Every time Kasia goes in the back, I have to watch her like a hawk to make sure she doesn't disembowel the rabbit compound.  Kasia discovered the rabbits last night.... now she wants to "play with them."  Nonetheless, the rabbits now have baby fur and their ears are growing.  I haven't seen their momma around; I don't know how they are getting nourished.



Furbabies

While perusing the backyard with Kasia last night, I noticed several new holes in the lawn.  Actually, "holes" isn't the appropriate word...... roughed up patches of grass is more like it.  As I walked closer to investigate the possible cause of the holes (I assumed it was Kasia on a death mission for Felicia the chipmunk) I quickly realized they were produced by a rabbit.  Could it be?  Might there be baby furbabies setting up shop in our fertile crescent?

After Kasia sniffed out the scene and determined it "condemned," she trotted off to take a dump.  Thank God.  I don't want to come home from work and see my daughter noshing on a practically-hairless-baby-furbabie with ears as small as a thumbtack. 

The babies' nest is covered nicely with a mix of rabbit fur and grass clippings.  Though not my first choice for building materials, the rabbits' magically-thatched roof seems to shield them from the elements.  I'm considering erecting a lean-to for extra support/coverage.  In the meantime, I'm going to hope and pray that no creature threatens them.

All babies need a name.  After their first photo shoot, I determined names:

Rita

Carl

Dick

Norbert

Clem

Erv

I wonder if their mom would mind if I made scarves and hats for them?  Since I decided that there is one girl in the gaggle, Rita's scarf could be purple with sparkles.

I finally downloaded pictures from my camera; the thing was loaded with several hundred photographs.  Of course most pictures were of Greta the Great, but there were others of plantation houses (from my recent trip to Louisiana) and miscellaneous stuff.

If anyone cares, I still want to move down south and maintain an old plantation house.  Also, I want horses walking around on the property and pitchers of sweet tea in the kitchen.



Greta's stink eye

I wish Greta lived in my pocket, so I could touch her magic baby mullett for strength.  I recommend to Carrie corn-rowing that shit for extra cool points.  Perhaps with beads?  Acorns?





If Greta lived in Chicago, I could hook her up with the rabbit crew.