Tying the Knot

We did it.  I'm officially Mrs. Christopher Willis.  Though not traditional through and through, I will be changing my name from Jennifer Elizabeth Monforton to Jennifer Monforton Willis.  Lots of vowels. 

The wedding went off without a hitch.  It's funny..... you plan for so long, the stress builds to a point of almost-explosion and then the day finally arrives.  There isn't a thing I would change about our wedding day; Chris and I are sad it's all over.  At least our dog isn't a bastard dog anymore.

The whole kit-and-caboodle showed up; friends, family and most importantly, Greta Fat Pants.  She was a champ all weekend and only threw up once (after brunch on Sunday because she was hungover).

Since Greta's mom was helping me with bride bullshit, Greta was being overseen by her dadda.  Dave impressingly dressed her in awesome-non-matching outfits, which is just how Aunt Jennie likes it.  Greta is very soft in her 5 months of development and likes to touch people's faces.  During the ceremony, Greta made teradactyl noises so that everyone knew she was present and counted for. 

Also, I'd like to add that I drank an entire bottle of champage myself on Saturday night.  I have a whole new respect for Adrienne and Susanne (who love the champagne)..... I put myself in a wheelchair that night.

On to better and brighter things...... CHRISTMAS.  I have already began the pre-planning stages of transforming our home into a Tartan Dream Holiday Magical Shire.



For those of you that don't yet realize, the pictures about are NOT my home.  I wish.  Chris and I actually bought a new couch last night-- its a dark brown corduoroy material in a sectional shape.  The comfort level of this couch kicks ass; it literally sucks you in.  Being placed in the fireplace room, we need to still figure out how we're going to paint, or, how we are going to panel the walls.



Plaids and tartans look awesomely rich during any season, so I may try and convince Chris to keep our fireplace room cozy and den-like.

















The Sedin Sisters

I'm a shitty blogger.  There.  I admit it.  I have strayed from my fans.  This whole wedding hoopla
(as K Kardashian has put it) is really all-encompassing.  Literally.  In 2 weeks I will be walking down the aisle and I'm not prepared.  Financially, the wedding has gotten way out of hand.  Originally, I wanted a small, intimate affair with immediate family and close friends.  200 people later, Chris and I are knee-deep in wedding shit.  I'm so thankful for my parents and Chris' mom for being emotionally supportive and labor-lending.  Might I also add that wedding planning shows people's true colors.  I will not elaborate on that last comment.

The bright shiny light has been my sister visiting from Bloomington, bringing along her little hobbit, Miss Greta Fat Pants.  2 blowouts down and a sleeping 5-month-old on my bed, Carrie, Greta and I were able to tackle some tasks on the wedding list.  We purchased bridesmaid's gifts and got the hook-up with a sweet and not pretty bustier (to wear underneath my dress).  If I had fake boobs I wouldn't need a bustier, but since I'm not a 34 A, I need all-things-having-to-do-with-framing-a-house surrounding my bust.  IDEA-- I should open up a bra store.  That's right.  BRA STORE.  For any chic with real hooters, they could make a pitstop at my store and get the hook up with bras that ACTUALLY fit and make the rack look fab.

We took Kasia to the dog park this morning.  I always encounter at least one fanatical dog person.  In today's case it was Margaret a.k.a. Diane.  Diane had a golden retriever named Buddy.  Buddy and Kasia laid down next to eachother and felt the breeze in their ears.  Then, we saw Mr. Pittsburgh Penguins Jersey guy.  Mr. PPJ guy was talking about how Sidney Crosby is like the 2nd coming.  Gimme a break.  Sid is a decent hockey player but frankly, a huge pussy.  Never willing to throw off the gloves, Big Sid can definitely shoot and score, but incapable of throwing a gangster McCarty style haymaker.

As the weekend comes to a close, Chris and I are relaxing in the TV room (Carrie and Greta are in the other room).  If there is a Hawks game on and in the same room as Chris, I am subject to watch the game.  Gag me.  The cool thing about tonight's game is that there has been lots of smack talk.  Playing the Vancouver Canucks, the Hawks threw out alot of smack talk before the game = fights = awesome.  I'm hoping that the Sedin losers get some chin music because they are dirty.  The Sedins are like two Tim Tebows, which is too many Tebows in one rink.

Changes in Latitude, Changes in Attitude



The past few weeks have been interesting.  With all the wedding planning, etc. both Chris and I have been under more stress than usual.  Oddly enough, its brought us to this weird place:  every morning upon waking up, we both share dreams with one another from the night before.  This morning was the weirdest.  We both dreamed of what our unborn child's nursery will look like...... and that it would have trees in it.  WEIRD.  We then parlayed nursery design into a convo about new windows and siding.

Above is a picture of a home sided with Hardie siding.  Typically in an Arts and Crafts style, Hardie siding is often colorful and planked in a wider scheme.  I love the photo however, our house doesn't look anything like the one featured.  We're hoping after all the wedding bs we can focus our money and attention on giving our home a facelift.



Above is what Chris and I dreamed about.  So weird.  Chris must be my dream soulmate.



Mt. Brighton

I tried to submit a blog post yesterday while visiting Carrie and Greta in Bloomington however, since Carrie's laptop sucks the big one, the entire blog entry was deleted.  So, let's try round 2.

I'd like to dedicate this post to TJ Burke and Dexter Rutecki, "Mt. Brighton's Finest."  For those of you that don't "get" that last sentence, TJ and Dex are characters in the best movie ever made, Aspen Extreme.  There is also no such thing as Mt. Brighton.  Brighton is a trash dump with a tow rope.

While in the throws of an Effexor withdrawal last week, ski porn such as Aspen Extreme and Hotdog the Movie were the only things that made me feel better.

I love 80's movie posters





To add to matters, the Front Range/Summit County of Colorado got dumped on this week.  That's make me want to throw another hammer in the hat of living in IL.  WTF.  There are no mountains here which equals BTSAD.  Big Time Seasonal Affective Disorder.  Perhaps I should renew my Effexor prescription now in anticipation of a shitty winter in the midwest.



The above shows the awesomeness of 80's movie posters.  What ever happened to that sweet artwork?



Podcasts and whatnot

What do Amanda Knox, Rod Blago-douche, Drew Petersen, Casey Anthony and Dr. Conrad Murray have in common?
Does anyone else think its totally fucking weird that with all of the very-public court cases featured this past year, the verdicts/defense testimony seem to be "not favorable"?  I'm not going to go on some crazy tangent about the US judicial system HOWEVER, I will state a few of my own thoughts regarding how dumb jurors can be.



1.)  Based on the evidence presented in the case of Casey Anthony, I think she is guilty of something very fishy.  Does anybody else out there want to know how her young daughter was killed and found in the woods, wrapped up like a baby burrito?  I am gobsmacked as to how Casey walked away innocent, while the public wants to know how Tot Mom's child died.  If I were her lawyer, I would have recommended her to take a plea bargain, spill her guts and save face.  Now until the end of Casey Anthony's life, people will haunt her; possibly going as far as threaten her life.  If she would have just told the TRUTH, the American public would have been less skeptical about what REALLY happened.

SIDENOTE:  Not all women are fit to be a parent.  Said information supports that claim.

2.)  As the trial of Dr. Conrad Murray begins, I have been gathering as much information as possible.  Because I wasn't one of those people-obsessed-with-Michael-Jackson, MJ's death didn't rock me to the core.  Yes, I will miss his plastic surgery antics.  No, I did not like any of his post-80s songs.

Propofol (INN, marketed as Diprivan by AstraZeneca) is a short-acting, intravenously administered hypnotic agent. Its uses include the induction and maintenance of general anesthesia, sedation for mechanically ventilated adults, and procedural sedation. Propofol is also commonly used in veterinary medicine. Short-term effects include mild euphoria, hallucinations, and disinhibition.^[30][31] Long-term use has been reported to result in addiction.^[Attention to the risks of nonmedical use of propofol increased in August 2009 due to the Los Angeles County coroner's conclusion that Michael Jackson died from a mixture of propofol and the benzodiazepine drugs lorazepam on top of diazepam ingested earlier.

"Benzos" or benzodiazepine is useful in treating anxiety, insomnia, agitation, seizures, muscle spasms and alcohol withdrawal.  Almost every cast member of Celebrity Rehab with hot Dr. Drew is secondarily addicted to benzo drugs, on top of whatever liquor or drug they choose to shove in their nose.

Here is how the story of Mr.-Sparkly-Glove died:
Autopsy results show that MJ died of sudden cardiac death..... meaning his heart stopped.  The twist is how/why it suddenly stopped, since weeks before MJ was given a clean bill of health from a physical exam.  Apparently, Michael had his own little medical staff in-house to "support" his habits. 

Dr. Murray was hired as Jackson's personal physician.  Plagued with insomnia, Jackson had struggled with a night's rest for several years.  For whatever reason, Murray determined that propofol would be an ideal drug to aid with Jackson's sleepless nights.  Normally given to patients while undergoing surgery and under the watchful eye of a licensed hosptial staff member, the white liquid is very potent (hence why anestesiologists use several pieces of medical equipment to monitor vital signs in surgery). 

Murray gave MJ a heavy dose of the drug, allegedly left MJ unattended, and problems arose.  Prosecutors argue that Murray failed to immediately call 911, followed by not sharing with paramedics and doctors trying to resuscitate Jackson about the propofol.   Simply, there were two very large negligent acts that may make him criminally responsible for Jackson's death.  With a maximum sentence of four years in prison and loss of his medical license, Dr. Murray is in some shit.



To circle back the discussion, there have been a few nights when the lights went out in Georgia, if you know what I'm saying.  Maybe I should've been a judge.  Not Judge Judy but a real judge.  I can see through bs like a champ.

On a brighter note, I get to see my little niece piece this coming weekend.  Armed with a full night's rest and food in my gullet, I'm preparing to hold and kiss Greta as much as possible.

Seriously?  Do I need to even justify why she is the cutest hobbit ever?





Uggs made of mud

It has been raining in "The Shy" for a few days now.  Our backyard looks like the coat of a mangy dog-- a few patches of grass here, several bald patches of mud there....  Chris' hard work trying to grow a healthy lawn has all been shot to hell.  What doesn't help the look of our outfield is Kasia's morning antics, usually involving SEVERAL laps, back and forth, all the while ripping up grass.  Post Kasia running finale, I will call her in and then spend the next 6-9 minutes wiping the caked layers of mud from her paws.

I'm "working from home" today, which really means working on my laptop while taking breaks to paint the new door molding.  As I read e-mails, I decided to turn on the "Teen Mom Season 3 Finale."  Holy shit.  I love this show however, I don't want anyone to translate me loving Teen Mom with me loving Amber.  One of the cast members is named Amber.  She is from Anderson, IN.  In a nutshell, she is trailer park straight up:

Fake nails with ridiculous decals/gems/danglies
Fake eyelashes that look like pieces of shag carpet
WAY too much eye makeup

There is nothing wrong with being from Anderson or living in a trailer park.  What is an issue is the lack of class.  Apparently she has 3 felonies and a misdemeanor for going toe-up with her on-again/off-again last season.  REALLY?  It's not hard to not punch and slap someone..... check that.... it is hard to not punch and/or slap annoying drivers on I-355 during rush hour.

I get that it is extremely challenging to raise a child as a single parent with limited funds and limited support.  What isn't challenging is maintaining a level of class and dignity.

A WEDDING UPDATE:  In several weeks Chris and I will be tying the knot.  I still don't have my dress.  I'm not too pleased with House of Brides.  I have tried calling, following up..... I haven't gotten one call, one e-mail, nothing.  Nada.  Ziltch.  Jeebus.  What am I suppose to do if I don't get my dress in time?  Keep in mind that I ordered it in March.  I need a Xanax.

"That's Not My Job"

It's Friday and I haven't blogged in a long time.  Sorry.  With the wedding coming in 8 weeks and a lovely visit from my twin and her little baby accordian (my niece), things have been nothing but hectic.  To paint the picture a little clearer, last night I found my strapless bra in the backyard by the gutter.  So, I can't even manage to keep tabs on my undergarments.  I need to get a grip.

Being Casual Friday in the office, apparently there was a memo that went out office-wide that casual ACTUALLY MEANS "look like a freakin' slob."  Perhaps people actually do forget to brush their hair?  I wouldn't DARE step into a public space without at least brushing my hair and my teeth...... now, well, my outfit choice would be somewhat questionable.

To ease the general feeling of crappiness in the office today (compiled with Freakin' Slob Day) I am headphoned and tuned into "Bread Radio" on Pandora.  Some may say this particular channel would be thrown into the dentist office category however, it helps drown out the unnecessary LOUD chatter over the cubicles.  It's always the same idiots talking loudly in the office-- I need a door or something.... or some old school ear plugs.

It's Tuesday, but really Monday

Apparently I did not get the memo that the morning was going to turn to shit.  I woke up and enjoyed an extra few minutes of ear-rubbing with Kasia.  With a healthy dose of dog hair in my eyes and mouth, I thought to myself, "It's going to be a good day."  Wrong.

Maybe I'm not cut-out to deal with certain things however, today's bullshit meter is running in overdrive.  The general public is dumb and I have been reminded for the 8,456th time.  I wonder if it's too late to drive home, slap on some sweatpants and resume ear rubbing?



To soothe my chapped ass, I ingested half of a bagel, which seems to be doing the trick.  With the wedding hovering just 2 months away, I need to do a gut/ass/fat check and keep my piehole shut.  If my random instant stomach explosions keep up, I should be good to go.



I think I need a daily dose of Greta Fat Pants.  She is soft, porky, has sweet hair and holding her is like taking a Xanax.



Mad for Plaid

When I'm bored at work, which isn't often, I cruise the internet looking for decorating ideas.  Our house is still a neutral palette with a significant amount of beige.  Chris and I have to paint all the rooms, including ceilings, finish hanging the crown molding, etc.  We did however, paint our bedroom a dark green shade.  Called Painted Turtle, it makes our roomy feel super cozy.

I like the look of traditional homes-- neutral tones with splashes of color here and there.  I tend to go back to blue and red.  I have a strong dislike for anything modern and contemporary, extending to furniture design.  Classic is the way to go; I don't want to look back at pictures and think "Why did I pick purple shag carpet?"

Perhaps this is the Libra in me (symbolized by a scale) and my like for many different things, I will at some point need to have a very large home which I could morph into a world of Ralph Lauren style decor.  Capturing the worlds of preppy, Americana and coastal, anything RL looks fab...... or as Rachel Zoe would say, "Died.  Love.  Isn't this bananas?"



Eventually, I want our home to be cozy and inviting..... the type of place where you want to take your shoes off and relax.

Fat and Carbs

Labor Day was a great day-- right up there with the birth of my little niecelet, Greta.  With no work, a One Tree Hill "Leyton" Marathon and a delightful 70 degrees on the thermometer..... the day kicked ass.  I dressed up for the occasion by sporting my most tapered pair of sweatpants, a sweet side ponytail and a ripped hoodie with paint and holes in it.  Because I typically spend my weekends running around like a mad woman; cooking, cleaning, running errands, chasing after Kasia and doing 78 loads of laundry, I wanted to celebrate the Day of Labor with doing nothing.  And eating carbs.  And napping.  2 naps.

I kicked off my 3-day weekend with a sleepover at the Abbey Resort in Lake Geneva.  Celebrating Kristy's up-and-coming nuptials, her maid of honor (Jen Awesome) threw together a lovely weekend.  Lovely quickly turned to drunk and fun, and partially black-out wasted however, it was super.  I drove up with Ashley and thank God...... I was still drunk when I awoke on Saturday, so she got the lucky job of driving home.  McDonald's would not have made any difference to my bodily state.  It was that bad.





Beatrix the squirrel-a-puss

I love and hate mornings, all at the same time.  The following is a list of reasons why I love the morning:

-Kasia's ears have been marinading in magical humidity all through the night, thus producing ultimate softness.
-It's not that hot out at 6 AM.
-Chris' farts are loud and not too smelly, which equals laughing.
-My one cup of coffee each day is ingested in the morning, which always tastes delicious
-After my shower, Kasia usually greets me at the bathroom door with a medley of treasures: her deer horn, a dirty sock, an empty toilet paper roll, a tube of wood glue, Beatrix the squirrel/octopus furry toy and my black high heel.



Reasons why I hate mornings:
-Work
-Driving to Itasca or the airport..... both suck
-The same music is played on 99.5 the country station.  Mix it up for Heaven's sake.  I want to hear Alabama.  (Alabama is awesome because they all wear sweet tinted glasses)



-People that don't know that the left lane is for driving fast need to pull over, turn off their cell phone, put down the tube of mascara and get checked.  "You've been checked, bitch!" -Tammy from Basketball Wives



-Upon arrival at the office, it's like "Dumb question hour."  For example, "So Jennie..... you're wearing all black today, huh?"  Yes dumbass.  All black.  Glad you're not colorblind.