shannon goes to summercamp

once upon a time there was a summer where shannon decided to go to any and all music festivals (it could also be referred to as the summer that shannon thought she had way more money than she actually did).  in reality there were only like three festivals but umm hello that's a lot for a person as lazy as shannon.

memorial day weekend seemed as good as any other weekend to just kick shit off right.

an extra long weekend filled with tunes and general debauchery?  sign shannon up.

so it was off to summercamp music festival with shannon, her friend bowser, and bowser's man-friend.

what originated as a standard two-hour trip to the state of illinois turned out to be extensively longer since no one was paying attention to anything and the trio ended up getting lost which translated into having to set up camp in the dark of the night.  which is difficult when you've been enjoying road sodas.  it's also even worse when you discover that they're super serious about you not carrying in your own booze and they're more pro-BUY-OUR-INSANELY-EXPENSIVE-SHITTY-BEER inside the festival.  the majority of the weekend was comprised of making multiple trips to the car to fill our tiny karkovs up with the vodka and then crotching them back into the festival.
which also, in retrospect, maybe one of the two skanks could have done without so much vodka.
CLASSY - i know.

looking back it would be appropriate to label this as shannon's "bandana phase" because she was clearly extremely serious about rocking them.  the first day of the festival involved breakfast drinking, traipsing around the festival, and making kissy faces.

the group enjoyed the musical stylings of family groove company, g.love and the special sauce and then that's all shannon can remember.

except that at one point during the day bowser's man-friend was lost but then quickly re-found when he came sprinting by out of nowhere and knocked shannon's beer onto her (good thing it was bowser's shirt).
and then also we found super-recycling-loving lady.

suffice it to say that at some point shannon got irrationally drunk and thought she was the third-wheel.  so she decided to get lost from the group (which meant sitting on a pile of dirt like six campsites away) and wailing on the phone to shitler about her plight.  but it wasn't a plight.  because she was just a typical drunk girl overreacting about literally nothing.  so she put her big girl pants on and went back to the campsite to sleep off the probable alcohol poisoning.  and before she knew it it was once again time to rise and groove.  because that day was the day shannon had been looking forward to all weekend.  it was time for george clinton and parliament funkadelic.  and apparently also a man in a diaper.

suffice it to say that shannon didn't entirely learn her lesson from the previous day.  because she threw caution to the wind, didn't apply sun screen, and got drunk all over again.

if there was a lesson to be learned here it's that shannon shouldn't be allowed to drink in public places.
see also miller park drunk.

stay tuned for the next installment: shannon meets bad adam.

p.s. this was circa 2008.  when i like to think i was way better at drinking than i am now.

      

the time i got almost arrested

i'd be lying if i said i did anything on time.
and if there is ever an example of not doing things on time biting you in the ass it's the time i got almost arrested.

let me paint you a picture.
the time comes for me to renew my license plate tags (which basically means shelling out $75 for the state to hand you some stickers that state the current year).  but i don't.  instead i continue driving around like this won't get me a ticket.  which, it inevitably does.
so to keep you up to speed i am now in the hole $85 for the new license plate tags (because there's now a $10 late fee tacked on) and now $113 for having expired license plate tags.
so naturally i toss the ticket into the black hole that is the back seat of my car and continue on with my life.
the deadline to pay my ticket comes and goes.  without me paying it.  obviously.  and i have just gotten around to actually getting the new license plate tags when it turns out i'm no longer just someone that doesn't do things on time but i have now evolved into a fugitive.

i'm minding my own business, working a shift at the restaurant, when shitler calls.
the conversation went something like this:
shitler: uhhh the cops were just at the house looking for you?
me: huh?  why?
shitler: i don't know.  i'm not your husband so they wouldn't tell me.
me: so what did they say?
shitler: they asked if you were home.  and i told them you were at the restaurant.
me: you fucking NARCED me out?!
shitler: relax.  they were cops from our town.  the restaurant is in a different town.  they probably can't do anything.  but in the meantime - you might want to find out what they want.
me: i will.  but you're still a narc-bastard.

the following day, while at my day job, i make some calls.
turns out that if you don't pay your ticket they'll issue ANOTHER ticket in the form of a bench warrant for your arrest.  so naturally - i get on the phone, make a couple more calls, and get it paid for.  my day continues and i'm at my restaurant job just dicking around.

not actually doing this but sheningans like this are pretty typical.

much to my surprise two cops (one played good cop and the other bad) come in looking for "shannon." i identify myself and i am immediately snatched, whipped around, and slapped with hand cuffs.  they march me outside and begin this line of questioning:
bad cop: do you know why you're being arrested?  i have an inkling.
bad cop: so have you paid your ticket?  yes, today at lunch.
bad cop: what time was your lunch?  noon.  i took my lunch break and ordered jimmy john's.
good cop: oh!  do you know so and so?!  from your work?  yes.
good cop: great, tell him i say hi.  will do.  when these handcuffs are off.
bad cop: do you know who you spoke with when you paid your ticket?  no.
bad cop: do you have a receipt number?  no.
bad cop: how can we believe that you actually paid the ticket?  take my word for it?
bad cop: let me make some calls.  ok.

the bad cop informs me that after making several phone calls he could find no record of me having paid the ticket.
in the meantime this has gone on for about a half hour, in the sweltering heat, wearing all black, in hand cuffs.
i try to insist to the cop that i'm sure he hears it every day that someone is claiming to have done something they didn't actually do.  but i did pay the ticket.  i was just too remedial to think i would need some sort of receipt because i never thought that cops did something as pointless as arrest people for having a passed due ticket for a license plate registration.  the conversation ended like this:

bad cop: well, you have two options.
a. you pay the ticket again.  then if you did actually pay it we will issue you a refund.
b. we take your word for it and let you go.  but know this - if i get to work tomorrow and there isn't proof that you have paid this ticket i will be back here so fast your head will spin.  and i will slap cuffs on you and charge you with obstruction of justice.

me: uhhhh, option b.

so they release me.  and now i'm no longer under arrest.
so i go back inside, where i now have much more street cred than before, and regale to my co-workers the tale of the most ridiculous thing that has ever happened to me.  about five minutes go by when bad cop pops his head back into the restaurant and informs me that they found the paperwork.  and that was that.

not the time i got almost arrested - but the feeling is similar.

have you ever gotten actually arrested?

nostalgic tuesday - blast from the past. like an actual blast.

once upon a time shitler drove a cute little mazda stick shift red truck that didn't have power steering.
but one day it broke down.  
and even after shitler's many valiant and expensive attempts to fix said truck it was just no use.
so the truck got parked in the driveway and forgotten about.
there was always talk about selling it for scrap metal.
or taking the tires off and selling them.
you know - good intentions and all that.
but it never happened.

why?
because it got motherfucking struck by lightning.

the door was fucking welded shut.

these tires might be a bit bald.

WHATEVER tiny engine.

moral of the story?

lightning really doesn't strike twice.

because i joked that maybe it would come back and strike shitler.

but alas - it did not.