adult things are weird

you know what's weird?
the general progression of life.  
stop me if you've heard this before but i can't be alone in thinking this.
like when did we all of the sudden become adults?  and start doing adult things, no less? 
like getting married, having a car payment, buying a house, having babies, etc. etc. etc.

i can't be the only one that logs onto facebook every now and again and is confused when they see a person they went to high school with and they've just popped out a child and then you're all "welp, there's another teen mom."  and then reality comes crashing down around you and you're like "wait.whoa.no.  she's not a teen, she's turning thirty this year."  and then you're all "WHERE DID MY LIFE GO?"  because i know that it's totally normal for people to be having babies and doing other adult things but apparently, for me, it's difficult for my brain to process.

but the point to this is is that it's halloween.
and halloween is the day that my best friend in the whole entire world was born.
and it's weird because it's the first time like ever in the history of all of our halloweens spent together that we will not be black out drunk together.  and it won't be for lack of trying (at least not on my part).  but she's doing the grown up thing where there's currently a womb creature wriggling around inside of her. 

the days of old were most excellent.  the days of party refs, dorothy, that red sox fan steve bartman, a devil in a blue dress, a construction worker, and a chicken are over.

but really this weekend is minneapolis time.
thank goodness gracious because that means nikki time and also matt's bar because jucy lucys and beer for me but just a jucy lucy for nikki.  and really all i want to do for halloween is lay on the couch in our sweatpants while we wait for the pumpkin seeds to bake and watch hocus pocus.  because an exact replica of sophomore year halloween in college when we weren't real adults would be my dream.  because now we're old and married (and only half of us is knocked up) and it's too much work to go to madison for halloween and avoid getting trampled and tear gassed like we did that one year.  instead we will just do things like nap, get married, and be pregnant (not me, her).

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make room for me on the bandwagon!

can we talk about the pedometer craze?
i never really understood it.  like cool.  it counts your steps.  HOW INTERESTING.

but then my friend had a brand new fitbit one straight out of the unopened box that she was selling for fifty doll hairs and i couldn't not get it from her.  and once i had it in my grubby paws it was like a revelation and i totally one hundred percent understood what the big fucking deal was.  it's impossible to not obsess over all the steps you're taking, all the flights of stairs you're going up, and whether or not you're having any active minutes.  and then you can challenge people and the competition aspect brings out the absolute worst cut throat attitude and you're constantly just making extra trips to do any and all of the most small and menial tasks just to get yourself more steps.  and then you get badges, which are meaningless really, but make you feel special.  like "YES the twenty-five flights of stairs in a day badge?!" go me!  so that's what my life has come down to.  constantly monitoring my activity during the day and then also studying my sleep habits.  and speaking of sleep study i'm going to get hammered drunk one of the nights this weekend and then review whether i'm restless or not during a passed out drunk stupor like i'm restless during my week night sober sleeps.

so if you want to be fitbit friends let's please be fitbit friends because then i can have one more person to obsessively try to out step every day.

and also i just went to the bathroom and giggled when i looked at my underwear.  
i forgot they had top hats on them.  cheers.

p.s. what kind of underwear are you wearing today?

p.p.s. this is quite possibly my favorite picture of all time.  you're welcome.

p.p.p.s.  i'm still going to do that smut link up.  i swear.  maybe you don't care. but i'm thinking november.  let's discuss more about it on monday.

p.p.p.p.s. i think i'm doing the multiple p.s. thing wrong but i don't feel like googling it.

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the bet

i don't know about anyone else but when people refer to "the most wonderful time of the year" i assume they're talking about football season.  and football season is just that much more wonderful if you're a packers fan (hash tag america's team and if you think it's any other team i will fight you) because hello aaron rodgers and slay matthews, and jordy, and randall and yes i like to refer to most all of the players by their first names because we're close like that (i wish AHEM slay and aaron).  and loving the packers and having cancelled cables means that oh-shucks-darn you have to watch the games at a bar that gives touchdown shots, prizes like free booze and bags sets, and also free drinking if you win the cheesehead hat.

but football season also means fantasy football.  and if we're being honest - i'm terrible at it.  like every season i have such high hopes for my team but i draft like shit and then none of my players ever live up to their potential.  and then i'm crushed because i get my ass kicked every week and never even make it to the playoffs.  and obviously this season wasn't supposed to be any different.  because the first few weeks tim tom brady decided to phone it in and i got my ass kicked from here to timbuktu.  but then in week three i was given a gift from the fantasy football gods when i played a team that had nearly every dominating player on a bye and i was all "i don't even care if this is a crap win because a win is a win and i will take it."  and then in week four i lost by a measly 3.53 points and i was like "at least it wasn't a blow out."  and then in week six i won.  again.  and by this point in time i was just generally confused as the feeling of winning was just so incredibly foreign.  which brings us to this last week; week seven: rivalry week.  which is basically couples week in the pool of tears (that's the delightful league name, FYI).  so naturally shitler taunted me and told me how i sucked balls and then asked if i was interested in a wager of sorts.  and i was down because what did i have to lose?  and the answer was not one red cent.  because existing at the bottom of the totem pole had its perks.  those being that there's really only one way to go.  and that's up.  shitler, on the other hand, had everything to lose.  sitting in first place and possibly losing to a wife that sucks donkey dick at fantasy football is certainly nothing anyone could brag about.

and so the negotiations began.

shitler: if you win you want butt stuff, don't you?
me: what?  no.  you wish, loser.
shitler: **weird creepy laugh**
me: if i win i get a kitten.
shitler: no.
me: oh so you're not confident in your first place team?
shitler: i can't risk it.  anything thing else?
me: the other band for my wedding ring then.
shitler: damn lady.
me: you can either agree to a free cat (with nominal vet bills) or the other band for my ring.
shitler: neither.
me: those are my two choices.  you decide.
shitler: ugh.  i hate you.

and then the most miraculous thing happened.  i won.

and then i was all david after dentist and "IS THIS REAL LIFE?"
so yes.  ladies (and no gentlemen, i'm sure) i totally won.  but the kicker is that shitler has refused both of my options for the conditions of the bet.  which leaves me with having won nothing.  which leads me to the point of this post.  which is your help.  your help in picking out what i shall now demand since shitler will not acquiesce with my demands of a kitten or my other wedding band.

what would you demand as spoils 
of the fantasy football rivalry week win?
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it's friday.
the packers laid out a straight beat down on the vikings last night.
life is good.

cheers hoes.

p.s. do yourself a damn favor and throw this bitchin' song on repeat.

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one week anniversary of over-serving myself. again.

last week wednesday i had a conversation with shitler that went something like this:

me: oh hey - i'm staying at melissa's house tomorrow night.

shitler: why?

me: because we're going to drink too much wine and hork all the food in our faces and i'm going to be too drunk to be able to commandeer any type of motorized vehicle (like even a fucking big wheel).

shitler: oh.

me: ya, so see you sunday.

and then i think we high-fived and went our separate, merry ways till sunday.

so with that being said - today is the one week anniversary of when i thought it would be a good idea to eat my fucking face off and drink one of those family sized bottles of pinot noir with my friend.  and by drink one of those family sized bottles of pinot noir i mean that i drank an entire 1.75 and she also drank an entire 1.75 and then we tried to watch the movie "the other woman" but it didn't work out because we re-started it like six times but then got distracted by eating a jar of pickled asparagus and also by needing to order partylite and then we finally passed out but not before i demanded that her cats sleep in the bed but duh cats don't listen so they ignored me.

but then all the fun came to a screeching halt when the alarms went off the next morning and it was like a stumble fest of trying to dress myself and also figure out where the fuck i was (because i responsibly spent the night at my friend's house).  and also i warned her that she shouldn't be alarmed if i tried to cuddle or spoon her because it's what i'm accustomed to but what i'm not accustomed to is sleeping next to someone that isn't covered in hair so it was kind of weird and i felt out of place but i made do because i was wine drunk and i could have probably slept on a hardwood floor.  and then we hauled ass to work and as i sat at my desk i was all "WOE IS ME, WHY DO I DO THIS.  SHANNON YOU ARE A TERRIBLE DECISION MAKER."  and then i was like "UGH, i have to work at the restaurant tonight - IS THIS REAL LIFE?"  and then i was all  "wait a minute.  once upon a time i was honest about not wanting to work a shift and it totally got me out of work so maybe try it again."  you can read about that here.  so i quickly shot off a text to my manager:

so no.  i didn't get out of the second round job that night.
i put in the regular eight hour day and then suffered through another six hour shift where i swear the universe was punishing me for my over-indulgence because like every table ordered red wine and it taunted me and my hangover because vomatrocious (not a word but deal with it). 

so the moral of the story is that i haven't had anything boozy to drink since then.
which has made all the difference in how i feel on a daily basis.  I KNOW.  I GET IT.  EVERYONE TOLD ME SO.  whatever.  i'm a glutton for punishment.  also this last tuesday, as in three days ago, i did one of those frisky fall tone it up circuit thing at the gym and immediately after i finished i felt like i could take on the world but then i woke up the next morning and almost fell down the stairs because apparently my legs worked so hard the night before that they felt they didn't need to show up to the next day at all.

originally i was going to post some pictures about my labor day weekend i the northwoods of wisconsin but then this post spiraled wildly out of control and i don't have any type of motivation to bring it full circle.

so instead i leave you with this cat; because in my mind it's spoon-feeding me carbs.

p.s. i want to do a smut link up and i wrote about it here.
so check it out.  let's do it.  not like "it" but like the link-up.

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a beginning: smut mondays

if you've read stuff here for any length of time then you'll know how much i love me some smut.
like any and all (except the kind that talks about fisting because that's just not for me).

you can read all of the posts i've written about smut here and here.
i know - two whole posts - how in depth.

but the point is that i love to read the smut and i love when people recommend other smuts and i thought that maybe like twice a month we could do a smut link up and i show you mine and you show me yours.  relax - the books, not any body parts.  perverts.  but then we could talk about all the awesome smut we've read and also all the terrible stuff that you don't even want to admit to starting let alone finishing.

so come back on monday, october 13th, for our first edition of smut mondays.
i'm still working on making a button because i'm remedial but i did make this banner type thing and i'm super proud of it.

also - if you're serial about the link up - perhaps leave a comment so i know i won't be the one and only person linking up two mondays a month.  k.thanx.bai.
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a novel snippet

i assume that most people like to read.
at least people i like to be friends with (if not - i can kind of look passed it).
i thought i would take the opportunity to introduce you to jenn.  who is one mighty nice lady and one helluva writer.  you can find her blogging at quirky pickings where she does some of the best giveaways and has great posts and just in general she's like the nicest person and one of my most favorite internet friends.

jenn is currently working on a novel and after reading the first chapter she sent me i demanded that she send me more and she did and it's excellent and i love it!  so here today is a snippet from said novel that i thought i would share with you!

so get your read on and then go ahead and let jenn know that you love it just as much as i do!

so there's this girl named isabel. she likes this guy called reese. and he likes her, but she's more than a little surprised by this. and not prepared for what happens next. their story begins three years ago in the fall.

“Isabel, it’s barely one,” Reese said.

She paused, angled her head so that she could see him. “I gotta be at school early.”

“On a Sunday?”

“I know.” She shoved her hair back. Not because it was in her way—she’d managed, miraculously, to get through a whole day without putting her hair up—but because she needed something to do with her hands to hide the way they sometimes shook, like her voice did, whenever she spoke to him. So she spoke fast. “I gotta get to the ceramics studio to finish up some projects.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll walk you out.”

Why? Her brow furrowed. “I’m not that far. Just the garage across the street. You don’t have to.” I kind of don’t want you to. Not that it’s not nice of you to offer. But, then I’d have to talk to you.

“I’ll walk you out.”

“Okay.” She waited, reluctantly, as Matthew let Reese out. He stood, placed a hand at the small of her back. A second of shock. Of alarm. Her dark eyes widened then fluttered shut as her mindset shifted from appalled to appreciative—it actually felt kind of nice to have his hand there—and then to wonder. What the hell? That’s not friendly. That’s… that’s… what the hell? Her gaze snapped to his. And she thought she saw amusement flash across his face.

“Change your mind? You gonna stay?”

He’s just being nice, Isa, which is what you like about him. Snap out of it. “No.” She turned her head and marched to the entrance. Glanced at the bouncers as she uttered, “Good night.”

His hand wasn’t at her back anymore. She’d walked a little too quickly for that. To keep her hands busy, for a distraction, she began twirling her keys. “I don’t know why you think I need an escort. I've walked to my truck a thousand times before by myself. I don’t—”

“I don’t understand why my walking with you is a big deal.”

Because I can’t talk to you! She walked faster. The sooner she got to her truck, the better. She didn’t even bother to check for traffic as they crossed to the movie theater and then again to the garage.

“I don’t understand that either,” he said.

“What's that?”

“You don’t talk much. Especially to me. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you didn’t like me.”

But I do. I do. “Maybe I don’t have much to say.”

“Oh, I doubt that. I think you have a lot to say. You just don’t say any of it.”

Hurry up, Isabel!

“Especially to me,” he repeated. “I wonder why that is.”

“I’m shy.”

“I know.”

Then why ask the question? “So?”

“So, I don’t understand why?”

She sighed. Because you’re a beautiful man, and I like looking at you. A good one, and I wouldn’t have a clue what to talk to you about because you’re you, and I’m me, and… I’m just a girl. Too damaged and far too fragile for the likes of you. “I don’t suppose just because would be a sufficient answer.”

“I suppose so. You’re gonna be at the studio all day tomorrow?”

Ugh. Unfortunately, yes. “God, I hope not.”

“What do you have to do?”

Pretty much everything. They’d gotten to her truck. She unlocked it, threw her things inside and stood there, her back against the cab. Sure, she liked looking at him. But not when he was looking at her. So she focused on everything she saw around him. The cracks in the concrete. The scuff marks on her favorite shoes, her Docs—I should take them to a shoe shop and have them cleaned. The shrubbery on the other side of the brick. The glint of chrome—And I should get my truck washed. And the gleam of red paint—Why anyone would spring for a red car, one the color of a tomato, and pay more to insure the thing makes no sense. Ceramics, Isabel. Focus. “I've to glaze three pieces and make one. I’ll probably be there all day. It’s gonna suck, but that’s what I get for cramming the majority of a semester’s work into one day, for waiting ‘til the last minute.” She glanced at her watch, more to busy her hands than to check the time. “I should’ve left earlier.”

“How much earlier? An hour? Two? We’d just gotten there at eleven.”

“Yeah. I know. But I won’t be in bed until two, and I doubt I’ll get to sleep until three, and I gotta get up at eight.” She’d been thinking aloud. Too much, Isabel. He doesn’t need to know this. She blew out a breath. “It’s late.”

“So. Sleep ‘til nine.”

“Can’t. Too much to do.” She looked him then. “Why do you ask anyway? You’re working, right?”

“Yeah. I was just curious.” He grinned.

Good Lord. She fought the urge to put a hand to her stomach, to chew on her lip.

“Making conversation,” he said.

“Hm. Okay. Well.” She pressed up against the truck. The way he was looking at her now… it was weird. She didn’t know what to think of it. “I’m gonna go.” She set a hand on the interior handle, pushed the door open wider and started to climb inside. His hand was on her again. This time, he’d wrapped his fingers around her arm above the elbow. Not tight. He didn’t hurt her. But the contact had unnerved her, nonetheless. And before she had a chance to say anything, he had turned her, stepped closer still and fixed his mouth on hers. Wait. Wait. What is this? You’re not supposed to be doing this. You’re not supposed to want to. I don’t know how to do this. Reese, wait. Wait. And then… two boys. The trees. The ground. Stop. Stop!

He did. Stepped back.

Just breathe, Isa. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. It’s Reese. Not them. He’s good. He’s good.
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