hi. hi. HIYA.

it's payday friday ya'll.  you know - that one day of the week where you feel uber rich for a hot minute until every bill gets taken out and then you're back to being dirt poor again.  #SadTrombone i'm going to need for everyone to get on the "we're all super jealous of shannon" caboose part of the train because this skank has a half day today during which traveling to waupaca and the chain 'o lakes will commence, and then i'll drink my face off, and then come back monday and still not have to work. so basically this is me now and also for the entire rest of the weekend:
ANYWAY - i've compiled some things that i'd like to share with everyone. for high-fiving purposes.

1// look.  get drunk around me and you'll end up with a fancy pen tattoo.  i'm basically an artist.

2// someone wanted to take their leftovers home.  and by leftovers he means one lone tomato and a piece of droopy lettuce.

3// it's embarrassing when you get excited over the fact that you were given "maybe you touched your genitals" hand sanitizer and then you watch a shameful amount of real housewives of orange county reruns that you've already seen a kajillion times and squeal in glee when you realize you have the same hand sanitizer that heather gave to tamra.

4// operation not be a fatass was in full effect this week and i hated every fucking minute of it.  working out is stupid and i just need immediate results like yesterday.  i want to do the least amount of work and have the best possible outcome which is probably what makes me so american.  #FACE

and lastly because of the half day and the boozing and the general loving of life i'm especially excited to be backing dat azz up courtesy of whit-zizzle.  so maybe let's get our grind on and you remember when lil wayne sang about how he let her l-l-lick him like a lollipop.

if you don't read then we can't be friends.

interesting tidbit you may not know about me: i love books.  and loving them may be the understatement of the century.  because i am constantly buying them.  which is constantly annoying shitler.  like one month he got extra annoyed because i easily dropped over $100 on various books.  but i feel like he can't even get mad because HELLO I'M EXERCISING MY BRAIN.  at any given point in time i typically have two books in my purse, books scattered on my desk at work, and books strewn about all over the house.  i can't help it.
when i was little my parents used to buy me a book each and every time we were at the store and at one point it got so bad that i would throw fits if whoever i was at the store with didn't buy me a book.   and if you ever need to find the kid that wasn't angry when their parents grounded them and banished them to their room then look no further because i used to be all "ha, joke is on you mom there's books in that room.  good punishment.  not."  until she eventually figured it out and i just got grounded from books.  which, whatever that's rude, because i'm just trying to expand my mind so thanks a lot MOM. one of the only grudges i'm actually still holding onto stems from book reading.  one time in the first grade my elementary school decided to hold a week-long contest in which if you were reading between the hours of 5PM and 8PM and the principal called you it meant you won and you got a giant gift certificate to the scholastic book club flyers and you could basically pick out whatever you wanted.  enter tiny me and i was in heaven.  i would force dinner to be had early in order to get it out of the way so that my parents would sit down with me and read.
if my tiny brother nickolas needed anything i was all "you better get your requests in before 5PM because after that you're SOL bro."  so religiously, monday through thursday, i read and to no avail because nothing happened and the principal NEVER called and while i was obviously not happy about it i wasn't technically that unhinged.
until friday morning rolled around and i was hanging out with my then-best friend sarah and she told me a tale full of lies and deception.
guess who hadn't read at all that week?  SARAH. guess who the principal called on thursday night?  SARAH. guess who wasn't reading at the time the principal called?  SARAH. guess who's parents lied and said she was reading so she could win the contest?  SARAH'S.
it's been like twenty-two years and i still haven't forgiven that bitch. and honestly my blood pressure for sure spiked just writing about that story.
but for all intents and purposes the reason i mention my love of books is that while i typically read and enjoy (for the most part) everything i read there are certain points where you come across certain books and you're convinced they've changed your entire existence.  this happened last summer when samm and i read invisible monsters and honestly all i could think was #GameChanger and then i "wrote" about it.  now it's one year later and i devoured the book the fault in our stars and it's all i can think about, tweet about, write about, and cry about it.  it's a rare occurrence when a book makes you feel like the biggest piece of ungrateful shit about your entire life but you have no qualms about opening said book right from the beginning and starting it all over again.  THAT, kids, is a great book.  and that is exactly this book.  i have never ugly cried more inside at 3PM on a beautiful summer day with the shades drawn than when i read this book.  it's everything you don't want to be confronted with but it will throat punch you into awareness nonetheless.  

talk about reading just one declaration of love and bursting into an embarrassing amount of tears and thanking the heavens that shitler isn't around to judge the shit out of you.

and it's terrible because it's about cancer and i'm pretty sure that each and every one of us has had to endure the grief that is watching someone you love suffer from that but this book is still one of the most beautiful books i have ever read.

so do yourself a favor and order it, read it, love it.  just do it right fucking now so we can all talk about it together.
p.s. i'm too remedial to even write a review of any type of book so don't think this was my attempt at doing a book review.  but just know that i will forcefully cram this book down everyone's throat until they read it and love it as much as i do.

do dreams come true? because if so i only hope like half of mine does.

i think everyone has one distinct thing they remember from college and/or school. which is embarrassing to say since i spent like 30K on a religious studies major which, albeit very interesting, isn't really doing much for me right now.  and while i can talk martin luther (of the reformation), the bible, and spout off interesting, non-necessary bits of information about the early roman empire's impact on the evolution of christianity with the best of them it's not even the close to the one tidbit of information i remember from college.
p.s. i'm sure all your minds are blown knowing that i was a religious studies major.  WHATEVER.
let's journey back to my freshman year of college. this will date me and you will all think i'm some sort of decrepit old weirdo - but it was circa 2003/2004, woof, and it was my intro to psych class with my professor, bridget.  because you know - i went to one of those super hip colleges where we all called our professors by their first names. but i digress.  we were learning all about sleep cycles, and REM, and dreams when one kids was all "yo bridget i don't ever dream."  to  which bridget replied with "yes you do.  you dream every, single night.  it's just a matter of whether you remember your dreams or not." and that, my friends, is the one thing that has stuck with the most from my college years. if that doesn't say "that was a waste of four years and thirty thousand dollars" then i don't know what does.
at this point you're probably wondering what on earth is even the point. the point, kids, is that i never remember my dreams.  like ever. but then, on the off chance that i do, they're typically the most insane dreams. case in point: monday night's dream. so buckle up kids because it's semi-ridiculous and i won't blame you if you never come back here again.
for those of you who don't know - shitler and i are getting married.  after like thirteen long, long years together we're actually making the move towards not living in sin or whatever.   so this sets the scene for my dream.  we're married and somehow shitler is some large car wash tycoon (which isn't surprising because he bought one IRL like three months ago) and we're just shutting shit down - financially.
shitler and i are living in some sort of frank llyod wright-esque house and have not a care in the world.  until our relationship makes a left-hand turn down tumultuous lane.  as in - shitler starts beating the ever-living shit out of me.  and in my dream, no matter who i tell, no one will believe me.  and it's frustrating because i'm no j.lo a la "enough" because i'm just too lazy for that and mainly i just want to stop getting hit.  so i finally manage to muster up the courage/energy to leave and i'm frantically packing my shit into my fancy jaguar and praying for a clean get-a-way because shitler is off being a carwash mogul, when instead he SURPRISE comes home in the middle of the business day.  now seeing what i'm up to he's clearly not happy and immediately thwarts my efforts to leave.  my dream ends with him whispering in my ear in a very menacing tone "i'll never let you leave me" and then he forces me to *cough* service him *cough.cough.*
i think what makes the entire dream is that i couldn't even make it through telling shitler about the dream without lol'ing all over the place.  and when i finally did manage to get it out he just patted me on the head and said "that's exactly what our future is going to be."

p.s. please don't think for a second that i take anything abuse-related lightly.  because i don't. p.p.s. we actually do love each other.  despite what it looks like.

the 4th is still with me. i blame the booze.

sometimes you make the very correct choice in taking a day of vacation after a long holiday weekend. that correct decision is today. i went into the holiday weekend dead set on not drinking.  i was going to be like 100% healthy and go to the gym and just refrain from general imbibing.  but then all the bottles of moscato broke my resolve and all bets were off and i didn't go to bed till 4AM and i'm still hating my life.  see also: it's monday morning and all those poor choices were made on thursday.
this is the face of someone that is officially old and should probably at some point grow up.
and honestly - this is just that one day.  that's all i have the wherewithal to recap with sami.
but anyway here are some delightful pictures from independence day (sadly no aliens).

and yes - that is murphy lee straight terrified in the bath tub on account of the fireworks.

and yes - those are the fireworks.  just straight across from the house.  

and yes that close.  and yes it's no big deal.

stay tuned for a series of photos i have entitled baby with red solo cup. 

it's my finest work.

i hate showers

anything wedding-related befuddles me. my train of thought usually goes something like this: "wait - you paid how much for tiny personalized tubes of bubbles?" "i'm sorry but lavish centerpieces like on 'my sweet 16' are an actual thing?" "sweet lord a venue costs that much?" "excuse me how many people are invited?  jeez - i don't even know that many people.  am i a loser?" "so not every girl imagines herself just heading to the courthouse, banging out a marriage in front of a justice of the peace, and then heading straight to the bar?" honestly.  it's like the entirety of the wedding industry is just punking everyone and since that show isn't around anymore everyone just keeps falling for it.   so basically it's ashton kutcher's fault.  THANKS A LOT ASHTON. because this is me in a nutshell about all weddings and their nonsense:

considering the fact that shitler and i have been together since diapers it was damn hilarious to see so many of my friends getting engaged and then run the marriage-planning gauntlet.  mainly because all i kept thinking to myself was "all my friends are getting married and i'm just getting drunk."

and then i'd drunk-giggle to myself and pass out on the couch.  so when shitler proposed last september i pulled a david at the dentist and was all "is this real life?" and then when i discovered it was real life i was like "now what?  do i do things?"

because if you come here often you'll know that i'm governed my inherent and overwhelming laziness and also my general "i could not give less shits about anything" attitude.  so to say that i'm at the opposite end of the insane bridal obsessed-i've-been-planning-my-wedding-since-i-was-six spectrum would be an understatement (because seriously there were better things to do when you were six.  like play red rover and ghost in the graveyard.  your six-year old self needs to retro-actively get their shit together).

but there's a point to this.  

because on the list of wedding-things i don't understand are bridal showers.

bear with me.  i understand the point of them.  i understand that you and whatever dude you're marrying are going to be "LIKE EMBARKING ON LIFE TOGETHER" and that apparently means you need shit like seventeen different colored spatulas, or perhaps shrimp forks because "OMG DUH - everyone needs shrimp forks," or even worse that silver tea set you've had your eyeballs on.    but here are some reasons why i don't like bridal showers.

1. BYOB?

apparently it's weird to ask if it's BYOB.  which, in my defense, isn't something so crazy to ask.  chances are they're serving up some sort of punch with thirty ingredients that are guaranteed to give me gut rot so if it's cool to bring my flask or miniature bottles of booze i'll do so.

2. fish in a barrel.

i'm by no means IRL popular.  at all.  but i swear that my general distaste for having to do things i don't want to do or be forced to hang out with people that i would be content never seeing again somehow turns me into the person that everyone wants to be around.  and for what reason i don't know.  suddenly, now that you're at the shower, it's everyone's opportunity to talk to you, grill you, try and joke with you, and generally annoy you.  it's as though 75% of the people in that room are people you don't want to talk to and were mildly successful at avoiding before you had to attend the fucking bridal shower and said bridal shower ruined everything.

3. the registry.

i could think of a thousand better things to register for than what the appropriate things to register for are.  is it possible to register at my favorite bar?  like for shots?  eleventy-billion throw-a-way tupperware contains because duh.  paper plates instead of expensive, stupid china because whatever environment i don't like doing the dishes.  gift cards to clothing stores so that i can just buy new clothes when it comes time to do laundry.  one of those IV-drip machines so i can fill it with coffee, insert it straight into my bloodstream, and wheel it around with me wherever i go.

4. the gift-opening.

is it just me or am i the only one that thinks it's borderline ridiculous to sit around and watch someone open a thousand gifts that they've picked out for themselves?  i mean, don't get me wrong, i would never be mad at the stuff but can't they just take that stuff home and open it?  then drop a thank you note in the mail?  basically you turn, at tops, what should be an hour-long shindig into an entire day-ruining event.

5. wish drinking.

let's be honest - bridal showers leave you spending a majority of the time wishing you were drunk.

because of all of the above reasons.

all bitching aside i'm totally having a bridal shower.
at the bar.

you're all invited.

bring your best drinking outfit and be prepared to level up.

so much general nonsense

HI HI HIYA.

ten points to you and i'll mail you snack packs if you guess what movie that came from.

clue: it's ben stiller's best work.  hands down.

i thought about calling in sick this morning because i'm a lazy piece of shit.

but then i remembered that it's a goddamn short work week and i managed to muster up the strength to, you know, do what's expected of me and go to my job.

these weekend recaps with sami feel foreign to me.  as my weekend is usually just a pile of shit.

but we're going to go ahead and give it a whirl.

so friday was the two year anniversary of my grandma dying.

is that considered an anniversary?  do anniversaries have to be un-depressed in order to qualify as an anniversary?  i'm going to go with no because i'm pretty sure there are plenty of unhappily married couples that begrudgingly hate-celebrate the date of their marital union.  

so yes it was the two year anniversary of my grandma's death. and of course my mom and her six brothers and sisters were a tad melancholy.  i mean - their mom was a really neat lady.

fun fact - a couple month's back it was my dead grandma's birthday so the whole family went out for pizza and then they brought out a birthday cake FOR MY DEAD GRANDMA.  

i had to refrain from commenting.  and i'm still confused.

a little throw back - shitler doing what he does best and harassing people.

BUT ANYWAY.  enough with depressing death-related things.

because out of the blue a friend stopped in at work, dropped off a stuffed animal, and instructed me to take pictures of it and post it all over the internet. 

so obviously i did.  because duh.

woke up and unknowingly made the worse mistake of my life.

i happened to see people on the twat talking about how old navy was having $1 flip flop day and in trying to be like slightly ahead of the wedding game decided to head to the hellish place that houses old navy in my neck of the woods (aka the mall) and pick a bunch up.

you know that scene in mean girls when all the girls start fighting?

that's almost exactly how it was.  except on a lesser scale.  and people weren't physically harming one another.

except people were INSANE.  as in death-gripping armfuls of $1 flip flops just scurrying around the store in spite of the old navy employee with the megaphone that kept yelling "LADIES - THERE IS A 5 LIMIT FLIP FLOP PER PERSON."  and then there was me that was on the verge of entering full-on melt down mode because it's like my worst nightmare.  i swear these were like crack flip flops the way these women were carrying on.

but don't worry kids - i got my five pair and then had the luxury of waiting in the half-hour line that snaked around the store in order to fucking check-out.  and all of this for a total of $5.25 and i'm officially never leaving the house again.

i did the unthinkable.  and decided to clean the house.

have you ever looked at your disaster area of a house and known that if you actually had kids that child protective services would have for sure taken them away in light of the state of emergency that is your home?  but then your house is also so very terribly awful that you can't help but just throw your hands up because you're exhausted just thinking about all the effort it's going to take to clean that shit hole that you live in?  oh - just me?  good.

so i did it.  i hate-cleaned like half the house.  because after i had shitler pull out the refrigerator and ended up having to get on my hands and knees and hack at some godawful stain with a butter knife i could no longer go on. 

this was me:

except i just wanted wine.  of which i discovered that i was out of.

and then a part of me died.

because all that was left in the house was korbel and coke.

and upon drinking it i realized i was officially an eighty-year-old-man.

but whatever.  i managed to find my heart rate monitor which i possessed for less than two weeks before i thought i just promptly lost it.  so as much as i hate to admit that something positive was a result of the purge i will.   oh and the lake.  i went out on the lake.  and shitler brought me wine.
and then it was like all was right in the world.

and lastly.

a video.  because shitler loves him the oldies.