hairless cat

remember when i wrote that post about getting my snooch waxed?
if you don't you can refresh your memory by clicking here.  and also here.
with that being said and read shitler told me that he would be home tonight.  as in like twelve hours from now or something.  and i was like "oh.  ok."  and then he was like "do you miss me?"  and i was like "i would like some D and some snuggsin."  and he was like "only if you're lucky."  and i was like "rude."  but then it dawned on me that my downstairs business was still like something out of rain forest and that it would probably take a machete to hack through it.  you're welcome for the visual.  and then i all of the sudden was like "fuck i thought i had more time to take care of my power bush."  but now the time is dwindling down to like hours and there's no time left to see my regular snooch lady and i'm sure as shit not going back to that one lady with the rubbing and the rounding of the imaginary bases and then i remembered that my friend mentioned that a new place opened up not too far from us.  and so i jumped online, googled, booked an appointment, and just like that i could add another person to the list of people who have seen my snooch at its very worst.  and i didn't even blink about adding to the list because since the place is new i get half off my snooch wax today.  so for $27.50 she'll be right as rain and just like that we all learned how cheap my snooch is.

tell no one about my cheap snooch.
i also think this means that i would be a terrible hooker.

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shitler the blushing bride

if you're new around these parts - WELCOME.
if not - hey you're addicted to this trainwreck; like a crack you can't quit.  but it's cool because i'm not harmful to your health.  at least not that harmful.

but this blog is mostly about nothing.  and when it is about anything it's usually just random stories and pictures of shitler (and sometimes the dogs).  

so maybe shitler is my muse.  but don't tell him that.  
his ego is large enough as it is.  

which brings me to what i would like to tell you today.  shitler is the perfect subject for any and all photo taking.  i swear his eyes light up when i whip out my camera and it's just an instant show and i just click to my heart's content and usually end up with some sort of gold mine of loveliness.

with that being said i wanted to share a story from the one time i got married.
an anecdote, if you will.

so after everything was done.  like after all the ceremony crap and the vows and such our one-hour photographer took shitler and me on down the beach and started taking pictures.  i will say that i typically gush over all the gorgeous portrait shots of all the pretty bride ladies and i'm always all "UGH I WILL NEVER LOOK LIKE THAT."  but then people are like "just you wait for your big day, you sure will."  and i'm here to tell you that i proved all those people wrong (i actually don't think anyone told me that but it was mainly just me reassuring myself in my head).  first and foremost our photographer didn't speak english so he brought along a translator and giving that i was slightly buzzed off of champagne i wasn't really comprehending the things that they wanted me to do (like the by myself shots).  the translator lady kept taking my flowers and whipping her hand back behind her and then the photographer would gesture wildly and all excited like "YES!  that's it!  that's how you do it!"  and i was all like "uhhhhh i don't get it.  like this?"

and as you can tell from my face i was clearly questioning whether or not i was nailing this.
and the answer is no.
and then they kept trying to demonstrate.  but in like the same way they initially tried to show me what to do and i couldn't help but think "uh that clearly didn't work the first time so maybe try a different way or maybe we could just skip this pose entirely because i'm remedial."  but not - they kept trying.  and then i like slightly gave up.  and then they took this photo.

i call that one "I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU WANT FROM ME I'M BAD AT THIS LET'S PLEASE STOP."  but then shitler stepped in and said "you would be a terrible model.  you don't know how to take direction" and ripped the bouquet from my hand and demonstrated, to a tee, what the photographer wanted.

and then i tried one more time.

and still failed.

so the moral of the story is that it was shitler's day, he's a way better model than i will ever be, and also i'm terrible at taking direction.

Wedding Wednesday

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insert joke about light bulbs {here}

today marks me officially not having shitler around for one whole week.
and in that time i've done things like listen to a lot of alanis morrisette's "jagged little pill" album on repeat and at an obscene level, go to bed at 7:30PM, watch far too much big love, and eat various foods in bed free of any type of judgement from that son of a bitch i married.

but there have been a few hiccups along the way.
and i'm going to discuss them with you.

at the risk of being criticized after this post let me preface by saying that i can do anything myself.
but, due to my laziness, there a whole lot of them that i would prefer not having to do.  like ever.  and as a result they've become things that shitler does and in exchange i do things that he doesn't like to do.

case and point being the following.

shitler things:

change lightbulbs
take out the trash
check the dipstick thing on cars
refill my wine glass
fix broken shit
lift various heavy things

shannon things:

dishes (because, in his defense, he does a terrible job and it gives me a coronary to endure it)
general house clean up
drink wine on the couch
let him watch whatever shows he wants while i read kindle smut

and i like to think that it's a pretty fair trade-off.

quick aside.  for the love of everything in the universe i'm not suggesting that any of the above things should be or are gender specific.  it's just that he can take out the trash in the dead of winter when it's cold and the hill is slippery and i'll just stay cocooned in a pile of fresh out of the dryer laundry and we'll call it even.

but the point is that i've had to do all the stuff off of my list and far too much off of shitler's list in his absence.  like taking the garbage up the hill?  UGH my girl arms are weak and they get tired easily.  and the boxes full of my party lite treasures are heavy and i've just had to kind of maneuver them around the room and out of my way because they're too heavy to lift (girl arms, remember?).  and i swear all the light bulbs in the house had a meeting when i was in chicago and decided it would be appropriate to stop working all at the same time.  which was thursday night.  NIGHT.  as in it's dark and things are scary and i didn't even know if we had lightbulbs and yes i'm fully capable of changing them but the fact of the matter is that i don't feel i should have to.  so letting the dogs out in the dead of night became something out of a horror movie for me on thursday and friday night.  because i was scared that some sort of demon would show its face in the window and i would die of fright.  OR that i would let a woodland creature into the house because it's so dark out that i wouldn't be able to tell if it was murphy lee or like a skunk.  IN MY DEFENSE THEY ARE BOTH BLACK AND WHITE.

but back to the lightbulbs.  because they needed to be changed.  and don't worry there were no demons in the window nor did i let a skunk in.  crisis averted.  but saturday morning i decided to take on the motherfucking day and change those motherfucking lightbulbs.  the ones in the house were relatively easy; and by easy i mean i only had to spider monkey/straddle a desk and the stair railing in order to swap out the bulbs.  but then there was the matter of the outside light.  shitler had instructed me that there were screws that i would need to remove and I BETTER NOT FUCKING LOSE THOSE SCREWS and i was like FINE QUIT YELLING (this all happened via text so there was no yelling but it sounds better the way i tell it) and so then naturally i asked the following question:

and in my defense before you rip on me for asking if i need a screwdriver for the screws there are situations in which you sometimes don't need to use a screwdriver because little suckers can be be unscrewed with my nimble, lady fingers (lol also a cookie).  but not in this case.  apparently a pliers is necessary.  and let me point out that shitler took all of his tools with him so now i'm plier-less and also outdoor light-less and life is bullshit.  so naturally i went rooting through the house like an aardvark (used the spelling trick from the cartoon "arthur" to knock out that spelling on the first try) and managed to locate shitler's ice fishing pliers.
as in the pliers that he uses to wrench the hook out of the fish's mouth.  as in - there's probably gross fish guts all over the thing but oh well it will have to do.  and then i to hose down the house because giant spiders (un-charlotte types) spin their webs around that light fixture and it makes me skin crawl.

but i managed it all on my own.  no screws were lost, no spiders crawled into my ears and laid eggs, and i didn't slip and fall off the rickety chair i was standing on.  SO I WIN.  I WIN EVERYTHING.

because fuck this burned out light bulb.

and also fuck this interaction with shitler.

so yes.  this was just one long, drawn out complaint about me having to do things that i don't want to do.
like change light bulbs.  and the answer to the joke about how many shannons does it to take to change a light bulb is one.  just one.  albeit begrudgingly. 

p.s.  i felt it my duty to find the arthur video.  and also watch it twenty-eight times.  A-A-R-D-V-A-R-K

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friday things

oh hai.
it is i.  shannon.
and i have returned.  with nothing exceptionally interesting to tell you.
so prepare to be under-whelmed by the five things on this friday that i've decided to tell you.

1// i returned from chicago on wednesday and parked myself on the couch, in front of the television, and basically OD'd on big love.  no one told me that trade shows were exhausting.  but apparently being on your feet for nine straight hours and then having to deal with outrageous chicago traffic to and from your hotel, and then not eating dinner till 9PM, and then not being back to sleep until 11PM will leave you in a constant state of being some sort of walking zombie because you just wake up and do the whole thing over again.  but you know what's not something to whine about when it comes to trade shows?  FOOD.  because i ate things like giant prawns, the best salmon i've ever put in my mouth, and short rib stuffed ravioli in a brown butter sauce and basically i was in some sort of orgasmic state whenever it came to food.

2// i committed to doing an eat clean challenge thing that started on monday (as in the eighth) and i'll 100% cop to the fact that i had the best of intentions to stick to it but chicago and delicious food was hard and there was booze so i failed.  BUT i buckled down and started it on wednesday.  so today is everyone's last day of the challenge and they're probably totally pumped and i'm over here kicking myself for not just sticking to the original plan but RPM restaurant - i couldn't quit you.  SO through the weekend it's just going to be me and my plain greek yogurt that i just can't seem to doctor up enough to taste good and all the other things that i don't actually want to eat.  like more greek yogurt.  or kale.

3// i was always so anti any e-reader.  but then things like pre-ordering and automatic downloading and borrowing e-books right from the library and being able to immediately download became a reality and now i won't stop can't stop.  so imagine how gleeful i was monday morning when a new book i had pre-ordered was waiting for me. #screwdrivered

4// i'm well into my first week of being shitler-less.  and i must say that it is glorious.  shitler is not one that enjoys alone time or solitary-type confinement so it's been amusing to get snapchat after snapchat of him trying to entertain himself.  which typically just means him getting drunk.  in his hotel room.  by himself.
poor guy.  BUT not poor shannon.  because the other day i bought some razors since i figured that was half the battle in attempting to shave legs and pits but then i was like WHOA why even bother.  because who am i trying to impress?  no one.  he gone.

5// so we all know that my dinkus dog mac is obsessed with me.  and yes he lumbers his sixty-pound self into bed every night and insists on sleeping with us.  so i think he's just beyond happy that shitler is gone and he gets more of the bed.  and last night was no exception.  because when i woke up at like 2AM i was crammed onto the side that shitler normally sleeps on and when i looked over mac was sleeping.  on his back.  head on the pillows.  under the covers.  like a damn human.  and it was comical and weird all at the same time.

so that's that.  and now it's back to the reality of having to work at the restaurant tonight.
double drat.

linking up with lauren elizabeth and amanda.

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x-mas came early for this girl. 
today marks the first of fourteen days that i will be shitler-less. 
no more of this. dat ass. 

i'm actually in chicago through wednesday for a trade show for work. so holler for some work shenanigans.  and then straight back home to do all the things that shitler would typically make fun of me for but now i can do it freely without judgement SO THERE. 

so basically if you have shows and movies that you can suggest that will aid in me being more a piece of lazy shit for the next two weeks that would be much appreciated.


it's begun

cue all sorts of football related posts from here until literally next year (totally sounds more daunting than it actually is).  and let me be the first to admit that for fourteen mondays, one tuesday, and a friday morning i will totally probably be hungover.  because it's packer season and there will either be raucous cause to celebratory drink OR depress drink based on the performance of the packers/outcome of all games. 
and depressed drinking is the cause of my slight sad hangover today.
which is actually the worst kind of hangover.

because when you wake up hungover after a night of celebrating you can at least be reminded that "hey!  i was totally happy and drinking last night because the packers laid out a straight beat down on 'insert any of the three teams i despise here'!"  which is actually the exact opposite of what i am right now.  which is just sad, depressed hungover because the packers played so terribly bad last night and the cherry on top of the shit sundae was that it was against the cheathawks seahawks and losing is bad enough but i certainly don't like doing it against those bag of dicks
and yes i'm still holding a grudge from last 2012.  because duh.

so you'll have to excuse me while i weep into my diet breakfast (which is literally the worst when you're hungover) and also mull over my deep hatred for those pacific northwest gross birds.

OMG you guys.  the most awful thing just happened.

i should let you know that it usually takes me f'ing forever to even compile the simplest of posts.  so in the two hours that this draft has been open i've listened to a song that i've been obsessing over ever since it was introduced to me.  i figured that, in my current condition, it might make me feel better.  so naturally i went to listen to it again on spotify and IT IS NO LONGER AVAILABLE.  this the worst day of my life.  like ever.  #firstworldproblems - i know.
i found it on grooveshark so you can do yourself the most giant of favors by listening to it and then also commiserate with me because it's no longer available on spotity (where i do most of my musical listenings).
also i know that "listenings" isn't a word but i deserve a pass.
i should go home.  
do you think work would allow me to bail based on "THE SONG I LOVE ISN'T ON SPOTIFY ANYMORE, THE PACKERS LOST, AND I'M HUNGOVER/MY LIFE IS TERRIBLE" excuse?

ya - i don't think that'll work either.
i'll just stare at aaron.

p.s. happy friday assholes.
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mornings used to be my friend

can we talk about mornings?
this is my daily alarm situation.

monday through friday - that's my reality.
but spoiler alert i never make it to the gym in the AM and a majority of the time i don't even bother showering.  and it's not for lack of trying.  because i really do try.  i roll over and inevitably hit snooze every eight minutes and totally think long and hard about getting up but alas i am never successful.  and what's even worse is that i'm at my most productive in the mornings.  like back in college it was like power paper writing from 6AM till noon and then after that all bets were off because soap operas were on and days of our lives was my jam (shawn d & belle 4EVA).  

but rainy mornings are especially hard because gloom and doom outside and cuddly border collies make getting out of my cocoon of comfort basically the hardest thing in the world.  because that was exactly my morning.  and then when i finally did get up (extremely late, by the way) i just kind of zombie-like plodded through my morning and the entire drive to work kind of felt like a dream.  especially when i pulled up along side of a gentleman reading his newspaper.  in the driver's seat.  waiting at the light to pull onto the expressway.  and really my only reaction was this:

 photo tumblr_m79gbhu3oj1ql5yr7o1_400_zpsb7f5de49.gif

but ideally i would love to be able to rouse my lazy ass out of bed in the morning and get working out done and out of the way.  i feel like having a wedding and needing to fit into my toga smock dress was motivation to like the millionth degree but now "being healthy because that's what adults do" is just seriously so un-motivating.  so now i'm just going to need other people to help me.  which is where ashten and this challenge come in.  girlfriend tweeted that she'd call me every morning and get my chubby (my words, not hers) ass out of bed for a work out.  i don't think she knows what she's gotten herself into but here's to hoping that this will help my chubby ass me.

also if you want to join us i think today is the last day to join the challenge and it's only five doll hairs so maybe just do it with me and then we can commiserate.
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