Remember our Christmas ‘sheet set’ giveaway? There are a lot of jokes here about beds and keeping warm, but I am far too classy to make them.
I certainly can’t blame you. In fact, I’m pretty sure nine out of ten bloggers already think I’m married to The Byronic Man.
It occurs to me that finding my third spouse is like completing the final layer of my Dream Cupcake. Have you heard of these cupcakes? I hadn’t either, until I was roped into volunteered to help my parents cook for Easter Sunday.
1st layer: Chocolate chip cookie dough.
2nd layer: Reese’s peanut butter cup.
3rd layer: Brownie batter.
Cook 30 minutes at 350 F. Then eat. Then just crawl into a hole and die. Because life can only go down from there.
Um, anyway, okay, so, with the final 5 candidates selected…
It’s time to vote for my third spouse! (If you missed it, Click here to review their entries!)
Polls close NOON EST, Wednesday, April 3, 2013. My third spouse and I will regale you with some of our misadventures on Friday, April 5, 2013!
As many of you Chipmunks know, I have a long-standing polyandrous situation in my house. Sure, First Husband, Peppermeister, is great, but…Scrabble…is more fun with extra players. Cue Second Husband, Darren Criss (of Glee fame).
Things have been grand over the past year, but our bed is really, really big. So.
Enough chatter. I’m cold.
Let’s review the candidates…
#1 – My BFF, Jenn
My dearest wife Jules,
After all these years, I know it’s obvious to you I was born to be your third and only (hmmm, we’ll have to work on that – we have time). But perhaps your readers, like the majority of state legislatures in our fair nation, need a pinch of persuasion. After all, they haven’t:
fled to the arms of another man from dated YOUR brother
taken a kick ass road trip with me
nearly died with me
Okay, those last two are really the same thing, but I’ll make it count for two.
Jules, I was born to be your Third Husband, because let’s face it. I got this vow shizz locked up like a three-peat offender. In good times and in bad? How much better can it get than our impending wedding date in the banquet hall of a Greek restaurant in Texas that rents its second floor as apartments? (B-T-Dubs, my first guest post as Hub3 – just sayin’.)
JULES + JENN 4-EVER.
And bad times? Let’s be honest, we’ve already hit rock bottom together. Amazingly, I’m not even talking about vodka here. On our road trip [from New Jersey to Georgia in 2002], you lost your wallet, like, 27 minutes in. We were checked into the Blue Ridge Motor Lodge (I could stop here) by a heavily bleeding sexagenarian who begged us to take a plunge in his toad-infested pool (he really did have a surprisingly strong grasp on metaphor). Then our friend couldn’t meet up with us in Atlanta as planned because he was… oh, that’s right… IN JAIL. And to top it all off, we nearly died. On a cliff. We nearly went over a cliff together. Can’t you just see the Thelma and Louise motif on our engraved invitations?
When we I backed up on the freshly wet gravel, smack into the electrified fence that was then the only thing between my back tires and the plummet, and the passenger door was pinned shut by the… voltage, didn’t I demand that you climb over me to safety? Wriggle between my body and the steering wheel, out the driver’s door, before I even THOUGHT about escaping myself?
Jules and Jenn in Savannah, circa 2002. Five days from near death.
And when the farmer in denim overalls, sans shirt or underwear, came strolling out to look at my handiwork with his fence… and you asked him where exactly we were…. when he removed the hay from both his teeth to reply: “Girly, you’re in the middle of nowhere…” Well, girly, he couldn’t have been more wrong. We could never be lost as long as we’re together.
So, in conclusion:
I, BFF, take you, GJG, to be my unlawfully wedded wife, to have (mercy) and hold (your hair back), from this day forward. For better (see above) and worse (ditto), for richer (I’m not worried) and poorer (we got this), in sickness (check) and health (too late), until Blue Ridge Mountain death do us part.
Love,
Jenn
#2 – Adam Levine
No, I don’t, Adam. Show, I mean tell, me.
Hey Jules,
You know what they say about guys with tattoos…
xox,
Adam
P.S. – I do yoga.
#3 – Justin Timberlake
Jules,
You knew I’d come back for you, Jules.
I’ve wracked my brain abs for a way to properly thank you for convincing me to finally bring sexy back. Are you enjoying my new album, The 20/20 Experience, which dropped March 19th? Oh wait, this isn’t about me. It’s about you. And how I plan to repay you…
Hugs and Harmonies (and more?),
JT
#4 – Bacon
My Jules,
Duh.
-Bacon
#5 – ?
That’s right, Chipmunks. Here’s your chance to nominate someone else, or throw your teeny, tiny, adorable hat in the ring. And take it from Jenn: I’m very open-minded…
Submit your 5th candidate ideas [in the comments section below] by NOON EST Wednesday, March 27th. Polls will open Thursday, March 28th at 6am EST!
While mustaches are kinda my thing, and I constantly wax poetic (pun totally intended) about the merits of the handlebar, the Groucho, the walrus, etc., there’s something that’s bothered me for years.
Discovering the vanity-inspiring MacBook photo booth application, circa 2008.
Let’s take a closer look, shall we?
“It’s probably just a shadow,” I told myself. But it continued to eat away at me. For the next five years. I could have been curing cancer, saving tigers Britney, learning sign language, but I was simply too busy worrying about It.
So. Last week I went to the drug store and picked up this:
I didn’t think it was a good sign that this is what happened to the box when I opened it.
The instructions mandated that I test it out and wait 24 hours to see if it caused an allergic reaction.
“That’s probably wise,” I thought.
Two seconds later, I was mixing the cream and slathering it on my face.
Go Jules Go: Living Life on the Edge Since…Today.
“If it starts burning, I’ll wipe it off,” I thought.
I waited the recommended 10 minutes, killing time by wondering if horse really tastes as good as people say, and whether Adam Levine’s tattoos make him more or less more sexy.
Got shame?
I don’t think that shiz worked at all. Look!
No but seriously. I think it did the trick. Thank gawd. Now I have time to learn how to sign, “Is Adam Levine a vegetarian?”
Sooo… how about sharing your embarrassing personal grooming stories? No? Um, okay, well, gosh. This is awkward.
Go Jules Go 