take me out to the ballpark and make me drink responsibly

once upon a time a friend's dad gave shannon excellent tickets to the brewer game.

shannon went early to the game with friends to tailgate and partake in general merriment in preparation for shitler's late arrival.  

things got out of hand.  

shannon was over-served (by herself, mind you) and things quickly took a turn for the worse.

shannon lost her friends.  and then lost her money.

when shitler finally discovered her she was on level black-out, ghost-faced wasted.

in an attempt to sober her up he fed her expensive miller park chicken fingers only to have her throw those up in a miller park trash can.

shitler, having never had tickets so close to the field, was less than thrilled.

having located one of shannon's friends - shitler ushered the drunks to the car and drove them home having never even sat in his nice seat in the ballpark.

moral of the story: shannon can't be left alone to her own devices when drinking at miller park.

the fallout: shitler didn't talk to shannon for at least two days.  it was declared that shannon had ruined his chance to sit as close to the field as he had ever been before.

the longevity: shitler has never let shannon live it down.  even going so far as to sometimes nonchalantly bring it up like "oh hey, remember that time you got so drunk you could barely walk and ruined that brewers game for me?  ya.  i remember that.  thanks."

after many apologies, though they fell on deaf ears, both parties moved on.

until this last week when shitler arrived home, wagging his tail like an excited puppy whose owners have just arrived home with treats aplenty.  he declared "GREAT NEWS.  justin scored some season tickets for the next game!  even better - they're only $75 a piece!"  shannon, having just recovered from the instant heart attack that the price of those tickets had inflicted on her, immediately vetoed the entire idea.  until shitler was all "really?  REALLY?  no bitch - you owe me."  and then shannon reluctantly agreed and then professed that they were now even and he could no longer lord that miller park drunk incident over her head.

so they went to the game.  and shitler was close to the field and he was happy.

so he loved it.  and now we're even.  which i secretly think he hates.

p.s. shannon found her money from the first drunken brewers incident.  shannon had stuffed it in her bra declaring that to be the safest of places for it but then quickly forgot that in her drunken stupor.  it was later discovered when she drunkenly undressed and made the glorious find.

      

the best of what's around

so sometimes you have a weekend that's basically the most perfect one ever.
because you did so very little that you loved almost every nanosecond of it.
like there was gorgeous weather and other people's gorgeous kids.
a lake.  WINE (obviously).

but alas.  it's monday.

and we all hate it.  like perhaps the picture below is how we're all feeling.

p.s. will it be weird if i blow up pictures of other people's children to like a poster-sized version because they're so damn cute i can't even handle it?  probably?  ok, i won't.

how the mother-f was your weekend?

      

high five me and i'll upgrade you

high fiving and backing up azzes is basically my favorite part of the week.
let's get it on.

1// sometimes when i'm on a diet i make detrimental choices that will possibly ruin everything that i've worked for.
like carbs.  carbs will ruin a diet.  so it's probably not a good idea to make bread in a bread maker we were recently given.  #fail

2// that's an empty glass.  and no it's not because i've just recently killed a bottle.  the empty glass represents the fact that i haven't had a glass of wine all week.  and it's been horrible.  but if you're confused please refer to number one.

3// i thought about my wedding this week.  and by thought about it i mean that i looked at those shoes and thought they'd be cute to wear so now i'm considering them.

4// sometimes he's cute and i can't even handle it.  like when he uses his tail as a pillow.  nice try, buddy.

5// i think if you watch duck dynasty then you'd agree when i say that this picture is the very definition
of "happy, happy, happy."

but now let's get to the heart of the matter.  and backing up our azzes.

because obviously.

know that i will upgrade everyone.

but it's also concerning how much stuff beyonce puts in her mouth in this video.

     

to nickolas adam

i'd like to wish the happiest of birthdays to the first brother i ever had to share all the attention with.  i will thank you for all the toys i was showered with at your birth because i like to think the rest of the family was scared at the possibility of a meltdown from tiny five-year-old shannon prompted by your, at the time, unwelcome arrival.

cheers to you and your jack nicklaus name sake and spelling.  dad really, really loves golf, hey?
maybe we should start calling you "the golden bear?"

if only you could have meaningful family middle name like myself and matthew.

instead you got adam.  which prompted mom to tell you the story that it was, in fact, meaningful (lies) and that you were named after adam from the bible just to placate you.

remember that time you were fucking around and put pretzel rods in your nose and then matthew reached over and crammed it further up your nostril and then blood came pouring out and i just sat there and laughed at you guys?

remember that time i heard you and your girlfriend having sex?  well, mainly your girlfriend?  

ya - well i can't ever un-hear that no matter how much i binge drink.  so thank you.

remember all the times i was basically the best big sister ever and bought you beer because you weren't twenty-one?

just kidding.  that NEVER happened mom - i SWEAR.

are you twenty-three now?  i can't recall.  help a sista out.

but anyway - cheers to more drinks, more shots, and more family dubstep.

p.s. stop picking up shitler.
KIDDING - you can pick him up.
sidenote - we're broke. if you pick up shitler consider that your birthday present.  sorry we're not sorry.

      

with all due respect

yesterday was one of those days where i felt the need to rage in straight godzilla-destruction mode.

there wasn't any particular reason for it.

but i was in one of those "i'm in limbo" moods.  

the kind where you're not unhappy but you're certainly not happy.

you're not tragically upset about anything in particular but you're almost dangerously indifferent to the point where the most unassuming thing could set you off and then all hell will break loose.

and frankly nothing snapped me out of it.  

i just floated through the day teetering on the edge of a menacing apocalypse.

so i came up with some general advice for interacting with me:

do not ask me stupid questions.

do send me funny cat pictures.

do not leave me goddamn voicemails.

do text me inappropriate things littered with profanity.

do not forego deodorant.

do bring me pickles as a peace offering if you've angered me.

do not not anger me.

do bring me pickles anyway.

do not ask me if i want to get drunk (that's a stupid question).

do not think i give any fucks about anything you're trying to tell me (unless it's about funny cats, booze, or pickles because then i'm all ears).

do make smacking me on the ass a top priority.

do not put olives on your fingers and chase me around.

do watch the video below.

  

are we clear?

because i won't hesitate to come

at you like a spider monkey.