marriage advice

a few fridays ago i randomly had off from the restaurant. and it's super weird when that happens because i end up feeling like a normal person with a normal weekend.  but the feeling is so foreign (and few and far between) that i'm usually left perplexed and confused about what to do with a random night that doesn't involve work or something that's not already planned.  so when i got home and asked shitler what he wanted to do he replied with "wanna just get drunk or something?"  and i was like "that sounds nice; although pretty similar to what we normally do but ok it's friday and like 6PM so why not."  so we did.  and then shitler was like "i'm going to fuck around with my air soft gun."  and i was all "whatever; i don't even care."

and then shitler waxed on and on about what type of air soft gun it was.  but then it wouldn't work right.  and then he had to charge the batteries.

and then he had to remind me about how he bought it for like $10 on clearance at wal-mart.

and then it wasn't working right. so he re-loaded and practiced his aim.

and by this point in time i was at least four vodka presses in and beginning to get curious about air soft guns.  like mainly curious about how it would feel.  and shitler assured me that it didn't really hurt.  at least not that bad.  so shitler (a little too gleefully) suggested that he go like forty feet away and aim for my foot and then i would know what it felt like it.  so, like an idiot, i agreed.  and what's even more curious about the entire situation was that i was drunk enough to know that getting shot in the foot with an air soft gun was a bad idea but i was still drunk enough to know that i wanted to know what it felt like.

spoiler alert: it hurts like a bitch and will leave a giant, red welt on your foot.

and naturally i had over-served myself to the point where i couldn't figure out how to auto-focus and get a shot of the air soft gun induced welt so i don't even have anything to show for it.

which leads me to the point of this post: marriage advice.

DO get drunk with your spouse.
DO NOT let your spouse shoot you in the foot with an air soft gun.


p.s. shitler has incredible aim.  thank god.

may the fourth be with you

so may was a weird month. and by weird i mean things happened. and by things happened i mean i got motherfucking married. and i say it's weird because after being with shitler for almost fourteen years it's weird to not have a boyfriend anymore.  and it seemed like it was such a short time that i had a "fiance."
and having one of those was weird too.  and now i have a dude that i have to call "husband."
and it seems foreign and weird to say and it doesn't exactly roll off the tongue quite that nice.
because when you so constantly use the phrase "my boyfriend" for over a decade it's crazy abnormal to say "my husband" and for the most part since it's happened i'll start to say "my hus-err-umm, tom" and then people just assume i'm remedial.  which is fine.  so really for real i don't know how this goes.  i changed my last name on facebook.  and it literally only just affected things on facebook.  which is rude because i thought facebook controlled everything and that if i just made the change there at would extend to everything that needed to be changed.  like major credit cards, social security card, tax documents, etc. etc. etc.  and then last night when shitler asked if i had changed my name yet i just responded with "no.  it's a lot of work.  can you just do it for me?"  and then he agreed to.  but i actually don't know if it's possible for him to do it all for me and he was just saying that to placate me.  
so a wedding post is what you get today. and whether you like it or not you're going to read this and look at the pictures and leave me comments telling me how adorable i am and ZOMG CONGRATULATIONS SHANNON.  you don't have to like it but you will do it.
p.s. this was a wedding on a budget.  so instead of shelling out thousands of dollars to have a photographer follow me around all day and take pictures of me looking like shit in the morning and getting my hair done for like an hour we opted to pay for the cheapest guy we could find.
which was $507 for one hour.  so while other girls have all kinds of shots of themselves in black and white looking pensive and reflective and semi-cry-facing i was drinking champagne, watching pitch perfect, and eating french fries while i got ready for my wedding.
thank god there's no pictures of that.
here's me and my dad.  his name is gary and he's kind of a hard-ass and i don't think there's one picture of him like full on smiling for the entire wedding.  but there is one of him semi-smirking so at least there's that.
two fun facts about me and my dad.  one time he wouldn't let me do something that a ten year old so desperately thought she needed to do and so i very haughtily called him a disciplinarian at the dinner table.  and i felt super smug about it because my parents were shocked that i knew that word and also used it correctly but then my dad was basically like "well if the shoe fits" and still wouldn't let me do whatever it was that i wanted to do.  second fun fact.  i read all the damn time as a kid and i think there's a strong possibility that my parents didn't exactly know how much i read and maybe how much i knew so when my dad didn't go to work one day and then looked a little worse for wear at the dinner table later on that night he casually mentioned to my mother about the whole "getting snipped takes a lot out of a guy."
and when my brothers were confused i very politely informed everyone that "DAD GOT A VASECTOMY."  and then my parents had a lot of explaining to do.  that's it for the fun facts.

LOOK AT SHITLER'S MANE JUST BLOWING THE WIND.

cracks me up. 

i posted a while ago about how we had a friend marry us.  talk about the best kind of decision.

our guy got ordained online and insisted on buying and wearing a shirt that read "MINISTER."
and oftentimes while we were out he would refer to himself as the reverend. and i think his wife absolutely loved him being an online ordained minister more than he did but she constantly referred to herself as the "reverend's wife."  and it was mainly in the following way: "the reverend's wife would really like another captains and diet."

another fun fact.  shitler and i have dated for so long.  like high school long.  so there was a point that my dad wasn't a huge shitler fan.  and it for sure started in high school.  like what dad is going to be crazy about some sass-mouthed kid dating his only daughter?  but the running joke was always that my dad didn't like shitler but we moreso thought it was endearing than anything else.  but after a while, like years and years and years, we figured that shitler eventually grew on my dad.  like a fungus.  until one time about four or five years ago when my dad mentioned that he had just played a round of golf with a family friend who had a son that i grew up with.  my dad felt it necessary to mention that said son was a navy seal and also a surgeon and he could get me his number if i wanted.  and of course i really didn't have a response to that other than just be completely dumbfounded that my dad was trying to set up me up with other men when i was very clearly still with shitler.  like living with shitler and having dog children with shitler.  so naturally the running joke everywhere we go is that "there's always the surgeon" whenever shitler does something questionable and/or pisses me off.  and the point to that ramble is that our reverend friend totally mentioned the surgeon in the ceremony and i died laughing.  so did my bridesmaids.

that one right up there is my favorite one because it for sure looks like i'm bracing myself to get decked in the face.  and shitler looks like he's certainly up to the task after many years of putting up with my bullshit.

there's shitler just forcing that kiss on me.
good god man.  he pounced before i could even process anything and now the picture of our first kiss is just hilarious looking.

the lincolns.  in all their mother f'ing lincoln glory.

this was exhausting to write.

so FYI there will be other wedding posts and everyone will just need to deal with it.

also - totally not planned but it is wednesday so ZOMG WEDDING WEDNESDAY.

lame: party of one. 

 

thirty days

there's like thirty-some days left till i will be officially like legally bound to shitler. talk about terrifying. one month till i'm married MARRIED to shitler. barf.  kidding.
last night we had marriage counseling. and by marriage counseling i mean the man that got ordained online in order to marry us meets us at the bar and him and shitler drink beers and we eat prime rib and laugh at each other and occasionally we talk about shitler and shannon related things.
IT'S THE BEST MARRIAGE COUNSELING.
but then some man was there.  a neighbor man.  and he butted his way in and and started asking us questions and demanding answers.  and it caused me to get twitchy because HELLO NEIGHBOR MAN YOU ARE NOT MY FRIEND, MY THERAPIST, OR THE MAN MARRYING US SO KINDLY SEE YOURSELF OUT.  but really you guys.  he asked me to tell him why i want to marry shitler and when i answered he proceeded to explain that people answer questions in three different forms.  child form, parent form, and adult form.  he said my response was a child response and then pressured me for my adult response.  and he wouldn't let shitler answer until i answered.  and then he poked and prodded and kept saying "well how does he care for you?  protect you?"  and in my head all i could think was "look motherfucker - keep this shit up and it's going to be you needing the protecting because i'm going to punch you in the sternum and then rip your goddamn dick off."  
because the deal is that me and shitler work because we just work.  and i don't need to explain anything to anyone.  we don't put each other on a pedestal (although i think shitler would like that because he's king of all the attention whores) and i am certainly no lady that would sit here and tell you that he makes me a better person.  because i think it's the opposite.  because we can be in a room full of remedials and we need to only make eye contact for a second and we instantly know all the terrible thoughts the other is thinking about all the remedial people.
and he's one of my all-time favorite people to sit around and talk shit about other people with.
and he's super duper fun to get ghost faced wasted with him and i also like to tell him things. and i like to treat him like shit from time to time and be a super bitch to him. and i like that he just takes it.  and sure he protects me.  like one time he was going out of town and there was some rapist on the loose and he showed me how to load the guns so i could shoot that rapist should he try to home invade me and my vagina.  and i'm sorry if those are all my CHILD answers but i'm clearly a far ways off from ever being an adult and i'm ok with that.   because if you don't marry someone that you want to fuck shit up with then you're doing it wrong.

if i was a rapper and had a mic i would drop it.

girl bye.

p.s. i really, really wish i was a rapper.

moral of the story i get married in thirty days and i don't like people therapist'ing me.

cute.

i think i'm a girl with jumbled priorities.
and by jumbled i mean abnormal.  but i think in the best possible way.
like the other day i was attempting to do blog-related things when i got distracted by a commercial on tv that mentioned something about trans-vaginal mesh.  and then i spent an hour googling trans-vaginal mesh related things and forgot about the blog things i had set out to do.
or when the movie honey came on tv and i literally dropped everything i was attempting to do (like laundry and dishes) and became 100% totally engrossed in it.  which is embarrassing because a toddler could probably follow the plot line with no problem.  HIP HOP AT THE CENTA.
or that i bought a second wedding dress the other day.  priorities people.
which got me to thinking about weddings/marriage/ridiculous people. one of my favorite people in the whole entire world, wendalyn lou, oftentimes tells me she doesn't understand how people like me since i'm usually such a giant bitch (and i took some liberties with her statement and she means it in the nicest way like ever).  and i have to admit that i just don't care.  like about anything.  
you don't like me?  i'll live and continue to sleep soundly at night. if you expect me to operate based on what society deems to be appropriate then your expectations of me will surely fall short. i've never been one to let other people's expectations dictate the way my life is going to pan out. marriage?  eh - if it happens it happens.  and if it doesn't then that's ok too. babies?  terrifying but if shitler knocks me up at some point then i guess i'll be a mom. and i guess what i'm trying to get at is the women that say they've been planning their wedding since they were a little girl?  why?  go the fuck outside because it's time to play ghost in the motherfucking graveyard not decide on color schemes and look at swatches.

because you know what's cute?  girls pitching fits that a man hasn't put a ring on it yet.  i bet you a million dollars your boyfriend has never been less attracted to you then when you're throwing a fit about not being engaged.

even cuter?  girls that give men ultimatums.  because nothing would make me feel better about that ring finger being frosted then knowing that it got there because i pressured the shit out of a dude and he didn't actually want to marry me of his own accord.
i guess i've seen and experienced too much of that type of thing with women around me and it makes my brain want to explode.  like weird chicks that i went to college with and happened to have a boyfriend when they graduated went and immediately got married.  like it was the next logical life step instead of making sure that it was happening because of the right reasons.  same thing with babies.  or certain women that think it's necessary to make getting to the altar a competition.  and trust me - they truly do exist and it's not cute.  plenty of people in my life got engaged and married before shitler and i did and those same people had been together a lot less time than we even were.  and you know what's normal?  to get pumped that there's an upcoming wedding to get beat up drunk at.
so basically the moral of the story is that women should stop caring so much. the wedding i'm planning involves a two week vacation and a beach and it's turning out to be way more work than i can handle (which if you're wondering how much work i can handle - the answer is none).
and ladies relax.  shitler proposed after thirteen years of me making his life miserable.
he hit the jackpot when he decided to make me mrs shitler.

i hope some of that made sense.  because bitches be crazy.
p.s.  my lady garden hasn't been a priority lately.  so i should probably make an appointment to get waxed. because guess who else participated in no-shave-november?  my vagina.