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.much.awkwardness.

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.

shit show weddings are the best weddings

this is something new for me. this is a post that i wrote like not the same day that i published it.  which is weird.  and also makes me feel like i have my shit together.  which we all know is a goddamn lie.  but here we are.  and with another wedding post no less.  also - i've had like a half bottle of wine so if things get weirder than normal and also nonsensical then you'll know why.  also i'm attempting to do laundry.  so three cheers for being like slightly domestic.  CHEERS HOES.
ok so anyway.  if you're new here let me give you a recap. my name is shannon.  i married shitler in may after being in an eternity relationship for like forever.  and by forever i mean thirteen or fourteen years.  sometimes i lose count and go like two years with telling people we've been together for twelve years so i'm not actually sure how long.  whatever.
i wrote a post about my mexican beach wedding and you can read about it here.    i also posted some initial pictures.  like mainly of me walking down the aisle and also of the actual ceremony.  i even shared some anecdotes.  so i would start with that initial post and then maybe come back here for the continuation of that shit show.
firstly (which i didn't think was a word until i typed it and nothing correct me so go figure) i would like to give you a peek into how the wheels are turning in my brain when i see other wedding things and/or read other engagement and wedding stories.
you begged and whined when you didn't get a proposal that coincided with your weird timeline. how embarrassing for you.
you spent an obscene amount of money on one day and more specifically on things like mason jars. were you high?
you cried when things didn't go according to your perfect wedding plan. you're pathetic.
my face in general when i think about "traditional" weddings.

but that's neither here nor there.  because today i'm going to show you some pictures of like right after the fifteen minute non-religious ceremony where our "minister" mentioned me still having a chance with a surgeon.  a surgeon that is surely not shitler.  obviously.

quick aside.  nothing makes for a better wedding story then being able to tell people that one of your bridesmaids got drunk (though she still denies it), put her dress on backwards (and it took shitler figuring it out to get it fixed), walked almost down the aisle with the tags still on her shoes, and for sure walked down the aisle with my bridal bouquet.  like the bouquet with my monogrammed initials on it and everything.
hashtag memories.

because back to the whole top portion of this post where all wedding-obsessed girls are all ZOMG perfect wedding everything because hello you basic boring bitch what is even the point?

i'm sorry.  things got off track.  you were probably drinking out of a paper straw.
welcome back, i hate you, paper straw drinkers.

but anyway wedding stuff.

brides and their perfect everything.  because i had none of that and it was wonderful.

because sometimes there are the girls that just want the absolute perfect picture ever.

and then sometimes when you're in mexico the federales happen to pass by and your drunk-ish bridesmaid that put her bridesmaid dress on backwards and walked your bridal bouquet down the aisle happens to scamper up to them and ask them to take a picture with you.  and they do.
and then when you show the pictures to other people, like the mexican sushi chef that works at the restaurant, and he politely tells you that there's a fifty percent chance they were part of a mexican drug cartel and that i could have been
kidnapped and then i laughed.  but he was serious.  and obviously i wasn't kidnapped.  so crisis averted.

but anyway - one of my favorite pictures ever below.

but honestly - who even wants the most perfect of everything when can just have the most ridiculous?  and then you can know that everything was so absolutely perfect in all its ridiculousness.  

because when you walk down the aisle to the best dave matthews band song in all the land to the very best person in the whole entire world for you surrounded by all the best people that made the huge and most appreciated effort to fly down and be a part of your day then you know that everything is as it should be.

quick recap:

walked down the aisle to: "i'll back you up" by dave matthews band
walked down the aisle after being declared mr. & mrs. to "the idea of you" by dave matthews band

there were no mason jars, paper straws, or expensive nonsense

i didn't wear shoes because fuck shoes

people were drunk

everything was exactly as it should have been.

also this because GIMME THE CHAMPAGNE I DO NOT LIKE BEING SOBER

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. 

 

i call it my seaweed bush

so sometimes you have the very best intentions to write a post like the night before you plan to publish said post.  but then somewhere along the way you end up doing everything else that isn't writing a post.  like putting pictures in a photo album, taking a muscle relaxer, watching seven episodes of the show "white collar," drinking a bottle and a half of wine, and making music videos with your dog.  and then you pass out having never done the thing that you had intended to go.  
and that's exactly how i know i'm going to hell.
because my road there has been re-paved with the ridiculous amount of all my good intentions.
so anyway.  instead of the post i had intended to reveal to the world - you get this. because there are two things that i've done in all my years that i'm infinitely proud of.   one being the 90s jamz playlist i made on spotify and the other being this picture i took on my mexican vacation.

goodness gracious do i both impress and crack myself up.

shitler was none too impressed and just called me a freak.  and then i excitedly took a picture of the picture while it was on my camera and sent it to people.  and said people were nice enough to make me feel validated about the picture (whether they were serious or not is neither here nor there).  but really you guys.  that picture is incredible and i love it and i can't wait to frame it.  let me know if you want a poster sized coffee for your living room because i will totally make copies for everyone.

anyway.  that's it.

but here's my 90s jamz playlist.  AKA the best thing i have ever done.
besides my seaweed bush picture above.

married ladies get black out drunk too

last night shitler was like "are you ever going to blog again?"  and i was all "look hus-BITCH (i think that has nice ring to it) - I DO WHAT I WANT."  but really i would like to blog.  i would like to tell everyone my mexican tales but my couch looks so lonely when i get home from work and the last thing i want to do is navigate the monstrosity that is our laptop and honestly eating chips and watching the americans sounds more magical. and i didn't actually call him hus-bitch.
but now that it's out there and i like the sound of it i might just start using it more.
but today i would like to tell you the story of mexican blackout monday.
i need to preface this post by telling you that i am a morning person.  and before you exaggeratedly roll your eyes because who actually enjoys being up at the crack of dawn let me explain that i'm a morning person because it's the one time of the day when shitler isn't awake and i have complete silence and i don't have to actually deal with anyone and can put off the inevitable brain bleed that will be the day.  and being on a mexican vacation was no different. shitler would sleep till 10, 11, or 12 and i had all the time in the world to lay in bed and read my smut/contemplate whether or not i felt like getting handsy, watch some mexican national geographic, or hit the breakfast buffet all by my lonesome.  and it was on that fateful monday that i probably should have stayed far from the breakfast buffet because it was there the shenanigans began.  
that morning i decided to visit the buffet and straight up carb load (which was also no different then every other day after the wedding and i didn't have to fit into that damn white dress) and apparently i felt like celebrating a two-bagel and cream cheese breakfast with mimosas.  and mimosa after mimosa after mimosa tend to go down really, really well when you're just hanging out eating bagels by yourself and reading smut on your kindle.  after i was good and breakfast buzzed i traveled back to the room to bother shitler.  after finally rousing him from his slumber we had to wait till the buffet turned to lunch so he could eat and i could drink my lunch.  which i did.  in the form of white wine.  i'm not sure how other people's other halves are but shitler is the kind of guy that as soon as he's done eating wants to get the fuck out of dodge.  and i'm the kind of person that doesn't mind lingering and having an additional bottle of wine.  and the wait staff at our resort had no problem never letting me see the bottom of my wine glass at that particular lunch.  p.s. it was also super fun to consistently have more wine every time shitler returned to the table.  especially when i could tell that he was getting antsy in his pantsy to leave.  especially when he was done with his dessert and i decided that i needed dessert wine since he got dessert food.  p.p.s. i lost track of how many glasses of wine i ingested at lunch.
but i digress.  because after my liquid lunch i was now lunch drunk and shitler wanted to walk on the beach.  and mainly for me it was stumbling along the beach,taking thirty-seven pictures of rocks, and admiring nice asses.  and then documenting it for all eternity.
I MEAN REALLY ARE YOU KIDDING ME LADY.  #DatAss

eventually i got bored with the physical activity and i was hot and i just wanted to go in the pool.  so i negotiated a return to the resort wherein i could pee in the pool visit the restroom and take a dip in the pool and then continue on a beach walk in the opposite direction of the one we had just taken.  but at the pool we made friends and started talking.  and then i decided having long islands was an appropriate idea.  and then our new found friends were like "WE SHOULD DRINK WHITE RUSSIANS!"  and i was like "OMG THAT IS A GREAT IDEA BUT LET ME FINISH THIS SECOND OR THIRD LONG ISLAND FIRST."  and then we had white russians and it was then that my black out occurred.

because according to shitler i was passed out in the room at 4PM, and much to my chagrin, 100% don't remember what i'm sure was me being one sloppy bitch as shitler attempted to corral me back to the room. what i do remember is waking up around 8PM confused, but wrapped in a bathrobe, and i attempting to eat a french fry and promptly fleeing to the bathroom to expel it from my system.  on account of the same day hangover i was experiencing.

and then the next morning i had to suffer through a massage.  which, if you're wondering, a massage while you're hungover is terrible.  because it literally feels like the puke is being massaged out of your body. #FirstWorldProblems 

photographic evidence of my passedoutedness and also shitler is creepy.

salutations friends

there's not much to be said. except that i'm back.  back from two glorious weeks in mexico where the only actual tough decision i had to make each and every day was whether to go to the beach or go to the pool (and also actually follow through on the "i do's" because of that pesky marriage and whatnot).
so i just wanted to say hi. and that there are stories and i will get to them and also pictures and also mainly an incredibly overwhelming neediness to get back to mexico.
but in the meantime i leave you with this picture. a picture of a man and his beach bag.

hashtag i die.

mexico part 2

this is the last of it.
i kind of promise.

p.s. if you'd like to have shitler as your flower girl in any upcoming nuptials please contact me.  
i schedule all of his flower girl appearances.