I accidentally got “America’s Most Beautiful Babies” in the mail, addressed to a stripper who used to live here (seriously, what kind of name is Crystal Lyons?), which is probably one of those pay-to-get-your-child-in-this-book-and-then-pay-to-buy-it-so-you-can-show-off-your-baby’s-superiority-even-though-he’s-just-as-stupid-and-hideous-as-every-other-baby-EVER sort of schemes.
But so anyway last night within 40 seconds of opening the book, Bunny and I somehow decided we needed to put on grotesque makeup, wear lingerie and scotch tape baby photos all over it, and then take a zillion pictures in front of my world map to put on the internet. So we did just that.
wtf?
Then we drove back to her house wearing 1940’s nightgowns. Except she was wearing my corset/bra on the outside. I hope lots and lots of people saw us.
pictures soon. Then maybe next weekend we can, oh, say, mime King Lear wearing ball gowns and ten gallon hats while drinking out of yahtzee shakers LIKE NORMAL GIRLS.
Oh and we had an egg-dying party, which was a slammin’ success. Turns out Army dudes love arts and crafts/holidays/jesus:
Hope you like deviled eggs FOREVER. And I hope you like them with buttons super glued to the outside. AND ONE GOOGLY EYE FOR SOME REASON.
Photoz from Friday night’s extravaganza that I stole from Rebecca where you can almost sorta see my faux hawk:
What’s remarkable is how completely unphased Ev and I were as this unfolded before us.
yeah. Not “you guys are fucking sick I don’t understand you”. Instead “you need more babies”.
I would not have married someone who doesn’t understand that we need more babies.