"Sorry, no autographs please"

First-things-first, it's time to recognize those in the TJA. That's right, the avid followers of the Tight Jean Army. I salute those who rock the stretched denim so flush to skin that air refuses to dive below the belt.

We're only three-strong right now, but this elite fraternity will be taking pledges soon. For now, please let me introduce the founders of the TJA (also known as "Blog Followers")...

Kristen "Buns of Denim Steel" Miller, President - As wife and mother, please ensure our son's Wranglers are one size too small. Simply put, middle school girls should scream for his posterior like Diack at a Spice Girls concert.

Bridget "Denim Diaper" Gregg, Rush Chair - Being my son's future mother-in-law, please ensure McCall is immediately fitted with a tight denim diaper. The TJA must adhere to a strict dress code...

Kelli "Any Comment Related To Tight Denim And My Sister-In-Law Might Put Me Sleeping In The Bonus Room" Masters, Pledge Marshall - Sole recruiter to the TJA.

**For you three who blindly follow this blog, thank you. T-shirts are currently in production**

Alright, let's chat about my unborn son:

This weekend, my entire family got to see Price for the last time while burrowed deep in the bosom. In just a mere seven weeks, he'll make his grand entrance into the world...which got me thinking...

Would it be inappropriate to blare "2001" and erupt a fog machine on the hospital bed at the precise moment of my son's birth? Seriously, it would be his first Gamecock experience minus the bourbon...which, of course, I'll have on standby for Kristen. I have even pondered having the doctor dress up like Cocky and pop out of a cabinet during those final contractions...too much for a new father to ask?...

But back to the 4D ultrasound. As expected, my son did not want to share all his goods with us prior to his arrival. Being a celebrity (future President of the TJA), he's pretty guarded with glorious photos. The thirty minutes of us chasing down his beauty only produced fleeting glimpses. The sexy little cherub decided to ward us off with his arm, as if to say, "sorry, no autographs please." We realized quickly he had mistaken us for the paparazzi.

PS - Did you know little boys in the womb also like tucking a hand between their legs? If I didn't know better, I might think there was a small couch, six pack of PBR, and a NASCAR race happening in Kris' belly. Either way, stay comfortable in there little dude!

Until next time,

Blairy Labonte and His 3 Tight-Jeaned Elves