french whores

last night we moved grandma lincoln (shitler's grandma) from the third floor of her senior living apartment complex to the second floor.  and just the small taste of having to move not tons of stuff but enough stuff reminded me how much i truly hate moving.  and then it was like flashbacks of college inundated my brain and i was taunted with four years of having to move back and forth from minneapolis to the milwaukee area with a tiny car jam packed full of all my shit and i was like "WHY.  WHY.  WHY."
but that's neither here nor there because it was on one of my trips back downstairs that shitler's cousin (george) scampered up to me, full of giggles, and was like "smell your husband."  and i was like "uh what?  is he taking a shit?  did he fart?  because, gross, no i will not smell him."  and george was all "just trust me.  smell him."  and so i did.  and i was like "why are you wearing perfume?"  and george was snickering and said "i sprayed him with grandma's perfume!"  and then it became a battle royale of spraying each other with grandma's perfume and i was like "ugh.  bye."  and then a half hour later that tom's uncle started sniffing and said "what is that smell?  it smells like a french whore."  and george geeked out and said "uh that's grandma's perfume.  you just called grandma a french whore."  and then grandma lincoln was like "what are you all laughing about?"  and then shitler was like "grandma.  your perfume, which we're all wearing, danny thinks it smells like a french whore."  and then grandma was like "well."  and that was it.  and we all laughed hysterically.  because someone thinks grandma's perfume smells like a french whore and apparently grandma doesn't disagree. 
i couldn't have married into a more perfect family.
p.s.  i like to include at least a picture in all of my posts because things are fun to look at.  i couldn't decide what would be best suited for this post so i chose two pictures.  one is a picture of shitler and his grandma circa 2007 and also a picture of a cat with a hot dog delicately placed on said cat's side.

to nickolas adam

i'd like to wish the happiest of birthdays to the first brother i ever had to share all the attention with.  i will thank you for all the toys i was showered with at your birth because i like to think the rest of the family was scared at the possibility of a meltdown from tiny five-year-old shannon prompted by your, at the time, unwelcome arrival.

cheers to you and your jack nicklaus name sake and spelling.  dad really, really loves golf, hey?
maybe we should start calling you "the golden bear?"

if only you could have meaningful family middle name like myself and matthew.

instead you got adam.  which prompted mom to tell you the story that it was, in fact, meaningful (lies) and that you were named after adam from the bible just to placate you.

remember that time you were fucking around and put pretzel rods in your nose and then matthew reached over and crammed it further up your nostril and then blood came pouring out and i just sat there and laughed at you guys?

remember that time i heard you and your girlfriend having sex?  well, mainly your girlfriend?  

ya - well i can't ever un-hear that no matter how much i binge drink.  so thank you.

remember all the times i was basically the best big sister ever and bought you beer because you weren't twenty-one?

just kidding.  that NEVER happened mom - i SWEAR.

are you twenty-three now?  i can't recall.  help a sista out.

but anyway - cheers to more drinks, more shots, and more family dubstep.

p.s. stop picking up shitler.
KIDDING - you can pick him up.
sidenote - we're broke. if you pick up shitler consider that your birthday present.  sorry we're not sorry.