Baby Third

It has been brought to my attention (after lots of hours of Teen Mom watching) that someday if and when JJ and I decide to have children I will have to make by first born son a THIRD. John Falls Bennett III will have to be his name unless I want to bring shame to my inlaws. My roommate and I were trying to come up with nicknames we could call "baby third"

Kaci: "How about Johnny?"
E: "Baby Johnny? I don't think so."
Kaci: "How about John?"
E: "Kaci, seriously? I don't want to be a copy cat"
Kaci: "I think that's the point of having a third...."

(disclaimer: baby third is so far away that if any one talks about him I am going to claw you in the face)

Also, it has been a wrinkly week here at the apartment because the coat rack hook fell out of the wall. I guess I'm not surprised since I installed it using my pink power drill and forgot to use the special drywall nails that JJ kept nagging me about. Anywho, all of my coats, scarves, Watson's old leash, an umbrella and other various crap are laying in a wrinkly pile on the floor blocking the front door. Since I did so many productive things last week I don't really feel like fixing it. Therefore, I'm ready for spring if for no other reason but to be able to come in and out of my apartment without standing on my clothing.

Also, also. Kaci reminded me tonight of this gem:

I couldn't have recreated this unfortunate event if I'd tried! This is the day I went to see Venus and Serena Williams play each other at Wimbledon when I was living in London. Good thing I bothered to put on such exciting underwear that day, huh?

Rhinestone Petals from my Little Monsters

I've been told by two people recently that they read this blog- so I am going to go ahead and assume that I have a giant fan base. There might even be a half dozen people who are interested in my ramblings!

So, little monsters (as my BFF Gaga would say), I have a favor to ask of you. As you know, I'm pretending to get married in September to get attention. I have been reading a lot of wedding blogs lately and have decided that my all time favorite is "style me pretty." Over the weekend they did a photoshoot of a wedding where the bride carried a jeweled bouquet rather than one made of flowers. Why hadn't I thought of this wonderful idea- what is not to love about rhinestone petals!? So naturally I've been stalking the L.A. based jeweler who made the bouquet to make one for me too. And, she agreed!

Here is my plea: Do you have any flower-ish shapped costume jewelry (broken works too!) that you don't want and might be willing to share with me? I just think this bouquet is so elegant, in a very unique way. The best part is that after the wedding I can put it in a vase in my bedroom as a keepsake of the day all my friends shared their broken jewelry with me.

tooting my own horn

I'm having trouble concentration on work because there is a bird stuck in my vent. He is squawking in a sad/concerned tone and he keep rattling my vent so it has become impossible to do anything but google types of birds and make guesses about what kind he might be.



I don't want to "toot" my own horn but I am pretty proud of myself for 2 reasons:

1. I sanded and repainted a section on my car that had rusted all by myself! JJ kept saying that he was going to help but then he never did (like a true "husband" with a to-do list!) so I just took matters into my own hands. It doesn't look extremely professional but if you stand back and close one eye you can't even see a difference.



2. I finally convinced my phone stalker (who says we met in a club in Topeka where I danced with him and then gave him my number) that I was not who he thought I was. For an entire week, some guy who claims his name is "Black" has been texting and calling me wanting to know why I won't be his bay-bay. Sorry dude, it looks like she gave you a fake number. It's not me, it's really really YOU.





And now I will leave you with a little picture of my new dream man:



Oh, Justin Bieber. haha

Honeymoon Branson style

The irony of what just happened to me is almost eerie. A few weeks ago when JJ was visiting me in Columbia I convinced him to join me at a little thing called a bridal expo. No amount of car coaxing can prepare a man for a bridal expo and JJ was a good sport for just long enough for me to run around and enter every free drawing.

I assumed that no one every actually wins these drawings- they are merely a means to gather your email address and phone number and then harrass you about flatware and tuxes until you have to change your number. What a nice surprise it was today when my phone rang and it was someone claiming to be a vender from said bridal expo. The conversaion went something like this:

Telemarketer: "Ms. White?"
E: "Uh-huh"
Telemarketer: "We've pulled your name from the bridal expo you attended and you and John have won a honeymoon!"
E: "Shut up! This is amazing! Blah Blah Blah"
Telemarketer: "All you have to do is come in to our office and watch a demonstration of our new stainless steel skillets. Then you'll get a voucher for 2 free nights in a hotel in Branson!"
E: "oh...." (and then I hung up)

This telemarketer could have no way of knowing that JJ and I met while working at a camp in Branson. For that matter, they can't have known much about anything if they thought that a honeymoon to Branson would be my idea of romantic. I can picture it now: JJ and I gazing into each other's eyes at Dixie Stampede. I don't think so.

So for all you bridal expo coordinators out there: please delete my phone number from your "harrass" log. I don't want your stainless steel skillets....unless they come with a martini and a foot rub.

T-R-E-A-T

Some occasions just call for special treats. An unbearably long workday calls for peanut m&ms. A trip to the movie calls for diet coke and popcorn. Valentine's day calls for conversation hearts. Starting a workout routine calls for an entirely new workout wardrobe. Everybody who is anybody knows these things.

One of the girls that I work with at my job has suggested that I "treat" myself to a personal trainer to get in shape for the wedding (which is only 199 days away!). This is her "sweet" way of telling me that I am fat. Since I am poor, and getting in shape was her idea, I asked her if she would do the Jillian Michael's DVD with me on my lunch break yesterday. Little did I know, this seemingly weak and unfit child has an inner devil that comes out while working out. If Jillian wanted me to do 15 reps of leg squats and I only did 13 (because I am fat after all) then she would pause the DVD and make me start counting all over again.

Naturally, today I have been hiding from her. Partially from shame that she had much more stamina than I did. But mostly out of fear that she thinks this is going to become a daily occurrence. I'm hoping she will decide I wasn't cool enough to hang out with and will haunt someone else with squats and crunches.

Until next time, I'll be hiding in my office eating all of the chocolate covered strawberries my fiance's mother gave me for Valentine's Day. I'm sure they are diet strawberries.

Almost forgot

I almost forgot when I wrote that blog post yesterday about the "unsightly" state I was in last year for Valentine's Day: I had a STAPH INFECTION ON MY FACE. Suck on that February.

I've always hated February

For as long as I can remember, I've always hated February. Nothing good ever comes of this month. I've had my fair share of unconventional Valentine's days but I still think my most memorable one was when my high school best friend ditched her boyfriend to bring me pizza and flowers because I'd recently been dumped.

This year may also be one for the books- but in a different way because my furry little Valentine (aka Watson) will be spending the holiday getting lovin' from a different mama. Yesterday my bundle of joy got a new home and since then I've had a break-down in my future-in-law's kitchen and two break-downs at work. He was having some serious issues fitting into our world and the adorable old lady who came to get him promised to let him sleep in her bed.

I think what I really need for Valentine's day is a designer Gay best friend. No offense to my heterosexual real best friends, but if I had a say I would have you help me with picking out curtains and rearranging furniture.