and then it dawned on me how big of a whack job i actually am

if there's one thing i'm super good at besides not following through on anything that i say i'll do it's being a irrationally afraid of the most ridiculous things.  shitler hates it and then shitler ends up usually messing with me and borderline sends me into panic attacks about said fears.
and i must admit after actually typing these out it made me feel like a bigger tool than usual.
so here it is: the top six things i'm terrified of.
unflattering pictures of myself that people tag me in on facebook. don't even try to act like your heart doesn't skip a beat when you see a facebook notification that someone has tagged you in photo.  i mean let's be real - you probably look fat.  you're probably mid-stuffing-your-face.  you probably didn't shower that day (or for the few days before that) and you look like trash.  you get the idea.  for a split second when i get that notification a part of me dies and i'm truly petrified at what hides beyond that click of a button.

via

aisles at the grocery store with people in them already: it doesn't make sense.  i know that.  but there's something about turning down the next grocery store aisle and if there's people already in it i start to mildly panic and have to skip to the next empty aisle.  i just don't feel like there is feasibly enough room in that aisle for everyone.  your cart is going to touch my cart.  you're going to be in my way when i want to quickly grab something and get the fuck outta dodge of that aisle.  i'm going to have a meltdown in public and then i'll never be allowed back in my favorite grocery store.  you know - the one where i know where exactly everything is and that thought terrifies me.

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doing doughnuts in parking lots/people driving erratically: this is aimed solely at shitler because that mofo knows for a fact that these things scare me so much i could quite literally shit my pants.  doing doughnuts in a slippery parking lot in the middle of a wisconsin winter or driving so that your vehicle fish-tails down the snowy road doesn't hold much appeal to me.  it seems more like a recipe for a goddamn rollover accident and then our car insurance will go up - SCARY.

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snakes: if i could murder every serpent on the face of the planet - i would do it in a heartbeat.  but it won't happen because i literally cannot be in the same room as one or even look at a picture of one without it sending me into a hyperventilating fit.  in my defense - this fear actually has a base in reality (unlike the other ones that are just embellished to the n-th degree in my head).
when i was fifteen i was minding my own business, laying on a raft in lake during a family camping trip when i felt something bite my arm.  much to my dismay, when i lifted my arm from the water, there was a snake hanging from my arm and it refused to let go.  no amounts of "DROP IT.  DROP ME!" would suffice and it turned into me having to beat it off my arm until it relinquished it's hold and i high-tailed it out of the water.  the snake, refusing to be deterred, continued its hunt as it slithered up the beach through the trail of blood i left behind while my little brother and i sprinted back to our campsite.  my parents ended up reporting it to the campground and the people just lectured me about how i shouldn't go around "corning snakes."
WHATEVER.  those things are the devil's work. and nice try.  no snake image.  shitler has a nasty habit of sending me pictures of them and then it gives me the sweats for at least an hour.
trucks with supplies mounted in the bed: show of hands if you've seen any final destination movies?  that delightful flat bed truck with all the murderous rods that isn't properly secured and ends up coming loose and slicing into the driver behind said flat bed truck?  words cannot describe how insanely spine-chilling these things are in my brain.  like "oh those 2x4s look unassuming.  until they come barreling out of the truck and cause a multi-car pile up and give you so many slivers that eventually get infected and you a die a miserable death."  or "oh, that ladder rack you have mounted to your truck?  you may as well mount a damn machine gun to it and drive that bitch down the highway."  know that i simply cannot handle being behind any of these things while driving and basically if i can help it.  and respectfully know that i think you'll probably get murdered by them if you choose to drive behind them.  my thoughts are with you.

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rollercoasters: no.  just no.  for something that is supposed to be ZOMG SO MUCH FUN it looks like a mother f'ing death trap.  i just know my clothes are going to get stuck in something, or my hair is going to wrap around some bolt and scalp me to death, or the sheer knowledge that at the angle i'm descending back to the earth would kill me upon impact will cause my heart to beat so uncontrollably that it will explode and i will die.  and i swear if someone comes at me with how statistically low roller coaster related deaths are i will respond with "THERE SHOULD BE NO DEATHS IF IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE SO AWESOME."
leave me alone on the tilt-a-whirl.

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please still like me after reading this.

the dong bong giveth

tiger tiger woods ya'll.
i can't help but hate today.  not just because it's monday but also because this weekend has left me feeling like a piece of bloated crap and also my chest feels like a large person is sitting on it and therefore making it difficult to breathe.  so all in all i just want to crawl under my desk like a cat and have someone pet me.  let me know if you're interested in filling that position and we can get the necessary paperwork started.
my weekend was magical.  why you ask? because it was the fifth anniversary of our camping extravaganza at pinewoods. and there is nothing in the world i love more than camping.
here are eight hundred reasons i love camping:
1. everything in pudgy pie form.  if you don't know what a pudgy pie is you can kindly GTFO of my blog space.
2. drinking and driving isn't an issue.  you can just park your ass in your chair in front of the fire, drink to your heart's content, and then stumble to your tent.
3. showering isn't an option.  you're dirty, your friends are dirty, everything's dirty.  and all is right in the world.
that's actually all i have.  three whole reasons i love camping.  semi-pitiful.  but oh well. basically pinewoods  is our yearly excuse to get together and behave like degenerate pieces of shit. we play games like shot roulette, bring along framed pictures of jack bauer, and burn things. and apparently i don't wear pants.

FYI - shot roulette is exactly what you think it is.  not all those shot glasses are filled with alcohol but whatever your spin lands on you must ingest.

if you camp with us this is what your weekend would look like.

shitler could totally be a model, yeah? and the dong bong makes its presence known.
sunday was full of football, recovery, and loss. as in the packers lost, i most likely lost in my fantasy football leagues, and the only thing that kept me afloat was juliette drawing eyebrows on pictures of mac-dizzle and sending them to me.
also shitler's heart hurts.  someone console him.

so that's that.  a weekend full of a lot of terribly inappropriate things. can someone blog-related come live with me so i don't have to endure these things alone?

it's only a matter of time before shitler destroys me

i'll get to that title.

but in the meantime. eight hours. that's the only thing that stands between me and getting my camp on. it's that time of the year again - our 5th annual pinewoods camping celebration.  where we destroy the natural landscape of our camp site, drink our faces off, and generally behave like animals. here's a quick collage of years past to give you a general idea.

and yes - that's shitler with a chain saw.  and also the bonging of the boxed wine.

so ya - work can blow me because it's the very last thing in the world i want to even think about right now.

i say that not only because of the camping but also because i did alcohol shopping last night and it's all still in the back of my truck so it's hard to overcome the temptation that i know is waiting for me out in the parking lot.

so.close.

i bet the entire blog universe is going to be dominated by all things football and i'm going to mention it below so feel free to click out now but to warn you i have a delightful meme at the very end of this post so you might just want to buck up, endure the football talk, and then get rewarded with the meme.

fantasy football + NFL redzone = one happy kitten.  and that kitten is me.  and also shitler.

basically you don't bother the shitler household on a sunday.  like you can come over and drink with us but like shut your goddamn mouth and don't even ask to change the channel to watch some other game in its entirety you idiot.  #QUADBOX and also i love scott hanson.  but ok the point of this is that shitler and i participate in a fantasy league together every year with a bunch of our other degenerate friends called the "pool of tears" and basically shitler has won every single year.  he's a fantasy monster and i think if it were possible to actually live off of fantasy football related things he would.  i'm not even kidding.  he scooped up sproles before anyone actually knew who the fuck sproles was and he laughs his way to the championship each year because he just knows his shit and whenever the week comes that i have to play i pray to the fantasy football gods that his first pick quarterback is on a bye and he won't spank me too much.

this is what shitler did to his opponent last night (and thankfully it wasn't me).

are.you.kidding.me. and naturally since it's friday and i'm actually posting i'm going to link up with whit. and this song because it's our camping theme song because we sing it like a bunch of drunk hyenas and be all "WE 'GON RUN PINEWOODS TONIGHT."

AND i'm also going to do the damn thing with sarah because i mentioned fantasy football and how i am a fan of it so basically that qualifies.
AND IT'S MEME TIME.

catch you on the flip.  ghost ride the whip.

rubber necking - as in you can't stop watching shitler dance

i feel like this is a space where i can write about things that are super terrible and have all the kids reading it be ok with it.  and to be honest - even if you're not ok with it i'm going to write about it anyway.   i have the world's worst menstrual cycle.   there.  i said it. like the worst in that i'm convinced that every month my insides are trying to kill me by actively trying to bleed me out.  and yes - i've been on the pill and am back on the pill but even when i'm on the pill i feel like my reproductive parts are all "HAHAHA NICE TRY SHANNON BUT WE CAN'T STOP AND WE WON'T STOP (but no i don't think my insides have the voice of miley cyrus)."  basically i just want everyone that reads this to know that like officially i had my period  more than i didn't have it in the month of august.  like some sick period gods were in the mood to smite me with their red devil and i was just here to endure it.  and just so you kids have an idea of the actual length of time let me tell you that i started riding the crimson wave on august eighth and surfed it till the twenty-second.  and thankfully was granted a brief reprieve until the twenty-eighth where she reared her ugly head again and made her presence known.  so in case you're bad at math (like me) i battled the red dragon for nineteen days last month.  and FYI - the battle still rages on.  i wasn't really going anywhere with that except i just want you kids to feel sorry for me and maybe give me a virtual hug and/or a punch to the uterus. BUT THE WEEKEND.

worked all day.  which was lame.  but now i have that goddamn car to pay for so i just feel uber guilty if i'm not working and making money to pay for her pricey ass.  but when work was finally done it meant it was play time.
and by play time i mean beer pong and nonsense at the house of boners.  which is code for the home that shitler's brother and cousin live in.  oh and also john mayer was there.

i think dreams are made of mimosas and BLTs and buffalo chicken wraps and baskets of french fries (or freedom fries - whatever you like to call them) and scheming and also samm.  because all those things happened on saturday when mine and samm's worlds collided.  and to quote the lord "it was good." basically samm and i got the whack job idea planning a religious road trip all over the country and then samm got overly zealous and i had to gently remind her that said road trip isn't going to happen until 2K15 on account of that damn wedding that i happen to be a part of.  she was none too pleased.

long holiday weekends are like expected, unexpected presents.  because you know they're coming but you're still so surprised and overly thankful that they've arrived.  don't get me wrong - i enjoy a good black out sunday as much as the next girl but most times you need to reign it on account of not wanting to spend eight hours at your work desk contemplating the different ways you could either kill yourself or subtly throw up and have no one know about it.  so i think i can speak for most people when i kept catching myself trying to moderate my drinking on sunday and then shitler would drunkenly yell something about "NOT FUCKING WORKING TOMORROW!" and i would remember and then slam another cocktail.

monday was pointless.  i slept for like seven hours, woke up, laid on the couch like a piece of shit, then napped, then gorged myself on food for the rest of the night.  i honestly can't believe how attractive i am. lastly - shitler pretty much shut shit down on sunday with his dance moves.
you can check out my ginstagram for those videos but i've gone ahead and included my favorite one from the weekend.  it's upwards of two minutes long but i promise that it's totally worth it. now don't mind me as i pester ellen on twitter for the rest of the day with this video. won't you join me?

p.s. linking up with sami.  obviously.

trying to keep it up

i'm going to do this thing called posting. and it's going to be weird.

1// shitler is pumped for all the various gun accessories he can buy for the new whip.  and i hate to admit that i don't even mind the look of a damn gun rack in betty.  i'm not sure what that says about me.
2// slight rant - hulu can lick my balls.  i'm constantly having problems with it.  either none of the episodes i want to actually watch even load or every time you try to find an episode that you would like to watch you're faced with the problem of practically finding a needle in a haystack.  so basically i've come to an impasse during my enjoyment of scandal and new girl.  until netflix came riding in like a knight in shining armor to save me scandal season 2 on streaming.  holler at your girl netflix because i'm totally buying us BFF necklaces.
3// since getting betty i have officially been in car washes more in a two week span than i have my entire life.  and i have a favorite one (and no it's not shitler's because that one is 45 minutes away).  but it's the one that has the thirty-seven different colored soaps they spray onto your car and then i feel like popping in a grateful dead cd and maybe mixing myself a mushroom/LSD/marijuana cocktail and have myself a car party.
4//  speaking of betty.  those smelly gross things i call my dogs aren't allowed in any place other than in the way back seat in a little place we like to call DOGGY JAIL.  i would like to confine all that dog hair to one section of the vehicle and i certainly don't need mac's boner rubbing all over all the seats.
5//  i started re-reading one of my all.time.favorite books.  if you haven't read sharp objects than i suggest you stop everything you're doing today and get cracking on it.  it's the same author of gone girl and in my opinion sharp objects is a bajillion times better (if that's even possible) and it's so supremely fucked up which in turn makes it so amazingly good.
so there.  five things i'm high-fiving. and most of them were about the newish car.  how lame.
sidenote - i feel like i've put backing dat azz up on the back burner.  which is never fun and super frowned upon.
but there's no time like the present.  so here we go whit.

i'm here. and i'm inappropriate.

hi friends. what's the good word? TELL ME EVERYTHING.
but anyway.  the other day i was thinking about how much i hate working at the restaurant and how mostly it made me hate myself more than i normally did on a daily basis.  but then i also started thinking about how the restaurant is the place (besides in the home) where i'm most comfortable being my highly inappropriate self and have it be accepted by actual other human beings.
so here is the first installment of "shit you hear in a restaurant kitchen."
from me: "SON OF A BITCH.  diego? jose? miguel?  which one of you keeps putting canned goods in my purse?"
from suddenly scott: "when people look at me they think sunshine! handsome! pina colada!  i just picked up my shirt from martinizing - i don't even need to pop my collar."
from me: "i'm going to cut the dick off the next person that takes my food."
from me: "is the new busser eighteen?  i don't feel like censoring myself but i also don't feel like going to jail."
from me: "quit acting like you don't like getting elephant trunked."
from blake the busser: "i swear to god if i have to be in the dish pit one more time i'm going to masturbate."
from me: "what do i need to do to get sent home?  if i shit my pants will that do the trick?"
whispered in my ear from diego the line cook: "i'm going to eat your ass raw." my response: "like eat it till it's raw?  or like raw in the opposite of being cooked?  which, either way, i don't get it.
you should work on your english."
and sometimes people just hang their bras up.