gnome-something

this has basically been the best week of my life.  because, not to be redundant, but i only had to work three days this week.  and it's definitely, for sure something that i could like all the time get used to.  today will also mark the day that i actually start the hard-core diet and starving myself (half-kidding) so that i don't look like a beached whale at my wedding which is like officially, official less than a year away.  also give me a prize for that run-on sentence.

so stay tuned for me hating my life and attempting to use a heart-rate monitor.

first we high-five.

1// i can't help but love everything about the giant trees outside of the house.  it looks like a damn jungle.  but since it looks like a damn jungle there's a gazillion jungle bugs.

2// murphy lee.  just desperate to be freed from the clutches of that monster.

3// and mac just snuggled like a bug in a damn rug.  i can't handle it.  he just wants all of your love and he never thinks that's too much to ask.

4// the family neighbors have this shot glass.  and i'm in love.  and just - WORD.

5// and i forgot about this picture from the weekend.  but i couldn't not share it.  because this wonderful drinking family bongs beers from a gnome they've modified.  just so fantastic.

and then to wrap this bitch up and back up my ass in honor of princess whitney.

p.s. sorry this was a shit post.

      

go shawty

that's just me kids.  channeling miss new york.  

and if i had a blog world re-entrance that would definitely be it.

unless no one noticed that i was semi-absent.  in which case i'm just embarrassed for myself.

humor me kids and act like you missed me.

except i wasn't all that absent if you follow me on ginstagram, facebook, twitter, etc.

and if you do i'd like to issue an apology right here and now because that was ever so obnoxious on those social media outlets this weekend and if i annoyed you then you should probably just get over it because the booze made me do it.

i'm typically like 100% secretive about anything related to my birthday.

nothing is more obnoxious than getting facebook birthday wishes from people you haven't talked to in years and probably didn't even like to begin with.  i don't even have it listed on facebook and last year i made it until 5PM on my birthday without anyone wishing me any type of birthday wish on ass-book.  until i made the mistake of bragging about that fact to shitler and then he blasted it all over the facebook world and then i was fucked.

so what you won't find on this blog is birthday giveaways or annoying crap like that.

instead you will find pictures of me drinking.  which isn't anything different than any other day of my life except that i feel better about behaving like this:

and i did get drinks.  many of them.

and most of them in shot form.

i've talked about the northwoods before and how i'm absolutely convinced that all booze tastes better up there but i'm also convinced that all birthdays are just like auto-awesome when up there.  

the day was spent boating and bar-hopping with shitler and two of my other favorite people in the world (who i just so happened to introduce and then they got married so basically i'm a match-maker) ryder and wendy.  these people know me well.  so well in fact that my presents from my matched friends included a fantastic shirt and a bag full of beef jerky.

and also shitler got me a giant printer so i can wi-fi print the obscene amount of pictures i take as well as a portable charger thingy for my phone.  which happens to be my favorite thing ever.  and he's basically enabling me.  because he already hates how much i'm on my phone and he's just helped to feed the beast BECAUSE MY PHONE WILL NEVER DIE.

lastly i'm going to regale you with a tale of drunkenness. 

memorial day began like any other celebratory day.  with german food, beer, and irish car bombs.

except someone probably should have ingested more than a cup of soup and a soft pretzel with cheese.  because the rest of the day included obnoxious amounts of shots, cocktails, and drinks in miniature buckets.
there was a shot-paddle.  and more shots.
there was also interactions with strangers like this:

stranger: LOVE your shirt.

hot mess: you sure do.

there was a trip to the grocery store where the hot mess yelled out the window on multiple occasions to get a BAG OF CHEESE and VIDALIA ONION.  a VIDALIA ONION.  then later a dish was broken, someone wasn't allowed to use a knife to cut things (for obvious reasons), and when all the ingredients were assembled together the drunkard mumbled "this doesn't look right" in regards to the cheesy, hashbrown casserole.

the drunkard being this girl:

which led to me drunk-making my own birthday cake.

WHICH WAS DELIGHTFUL.  regardless of its less than aesthetically pleasing look.

so all's well that ends well.  as long as there are shots involved.  and beef jerky.  and friends.

also i'm super attractive.

p.s. i believe there are some shots that i took in an attempt to be super artsy but i don't know how well they turned out because i was drunk.  not as drunk as wendy.  but definitely drunk enough to think that everything i was doing was meaningful in some way, shape, or form.

p.p.s. i know i said you won't find a birthday giveaway but i am feeling generous so if you want me to send you a miniature bottle of booze then just send me your address and i'll probably send you something at some point in time.  like by the end of the year for sure.  in which case i can pretend it's your x-mas present.

p.p.p.s. this whole three day work week i'm currently in the middle of is like a thousand times better than a five day work week.  we should try and pass a law to make it happen officially.

p.p.p.p.s. i forgot i basically shot-gunned/beer-bonged a beer out of a gnome.  which we should also make happen.

      

pretty, pretty aubrey

i cannot wait to just GTFO of this hellish place that is work.

it's just a matter of hours that separates my liver and the disastrous things i plan on doing to it on this extended weekend.  and by extended weekend i mean that i don't have to step foot in either of my places of employment until wednesday.  praise be.

but first things first: the high-fiving.

1// whatever tiny john travolta.  look at you with your "stayin' alive" moves.  the world applauds you baby b.

2// he's just a wreck.  like no mac it's not ok for us to come home to you and your drunkenness and googly
eye-glasses.  get it together.

3// i think if uncle rico were able to speak he would be saying "it's real fucked up that you tied me to this tree."

4// although i'm like the world's happiest camper with my new iPhone 5 it's been a real pain in the ass to re-download all my music onto it.  but if there's one thing i'm beyond loving it's re-discovering all the music i had previously downloaded that couldn't fit on the baby 16GB phone that is now a thing of the past.  like i died listening to the snow patrol/martha wainwright song "set fire to the third bar" on repeat all damn morning.
it will change your life.  download it.  now.

5// and just a little something to send you into the weekend.  because it's true.

and this song for whitney's azz-tastic friday.

because i think we all know the words and i think we could all basically sing it off-key together at the drop of a hat.

p.s. i'm not the least bit ashamed to admit that i watched diddy's making the band and that one of the best reality television lines ever was when aubrey wept in the recording booth about she just didn't want to only be "pretty, pretty aubrey."  please tell me you all remember that too?

      

an argument against sobriety

one time i gave up drinking for three months.

in the shitler household we refer to those months as the "dark ages."

when not drinking it's insane how boring actual life is.  like you're extremely more soberly aware that none of the laundry is done, those dishes are starting to stink, and that dog hair you haven't vacuumed up in two weeks has taken on a tumble-weed like form and you catch yourself humming old western music as they skitter across the kitchen floor.  the worst part about not drinking is that, while you still don't have any motivation to do anything worthwhile, you find that you care much more about all the things that you're not doing then you did when you were drunk and/or hungover.  but the point is that while i was tragically sober i just became wildly obsessed with doing the most pointless of things (much to shitler's chagrin).  

case in point: finger puppets.

then things got a bit more edgy.

so basically they went everywhere with me.  out to meals.  they hung out with shitler.  came to work.

so the moral of the story is don't stop drinking.

ever.

p.s. i'm not even remotely creative enough to come up with any of those patterns on my own.  so it was pinterest to the rescue and this crafty lady.

      

waiting in real life

things you should know about your server and what they're probably thinking.

1. the less we have to talk to you the better.

if i had a dollar for every time i had to stand at a table with an armload full of dishes listening to people talk about their lives i would have at least $100.  i'm sorry sir/ma'am - but you are virtually a stranger to me and i could not give less fucks about what's going on in your life.  i'm here to drop off your food and then maybe check on you one more time.  do you want more booze?  i can make that happen.  otherwise - let's keep the chatter to a minimum.

2. you are not a pig and this is not a trough.

it's absolutely atrocious the way some adults eat.  you could not have MADE a bigger mess.  there could not be MORE soy sauce soaking the tablecloth.  and i'm sorry but how did so much of your meal end up on the floor.  this makes zero sense.  seriously - did you eat anything?  i would also rather you not acknowledge the mess.  i don't know what's worse.  that you somehow think it's appropriate to eat in this manner or to joke about it afterwards.

3. your jokes don't pay my bills.  nor do your coupons.

fun fact: the people that are jokey mcjokerson with you and the ones that you think you have a great repoire with are the ones that leave the shittiest of tips.  it's like they magically think that in a matter of an hour you've forged a meaningful relationship and that either that killer joke they just dropped on you or the fact that you should just really like them by now means they don't have to leave you a decent tip.  fun fact: my pal john mayer once waited on a table of regulars.  and when all was said and done they left him a $5 tip on a $100 bill and some BOGO coupons to culvers.  really you cheap skanks?

4. order dessert and i will go ballistic in the back.

it never fails that people decide to order dessert at the most inopportune time during service.  i might be the only server that doesn't care that it will up the bill and maybe get me more of a tip.  i just want you gone.  because in the middle of having to bring you a piece of fucking triple chocolate cake i probably have to drop off six drink orders, split a check, and pretend to enjoy a joke.

via

5. referring to yourself in the third person is not cute.

any server will tell you that the worst season to be a server is high school dance season.  it's the most horrifying time of the year and it happen three times a year; homecoming, the girls ask the guys dance, and prom.  it usually means you get a giant group of high school kids that all order waters, MAYBE an appetizer, and then ask for thirty-seven split checks.  it's a nightmare.  even worse when high school students think it's cute to refer to themselves in the third person.
just recently i had the joy of waiting on a young lady who insisted on referring to herself as michelle obama in the third person.  things like "uhhhh michelle obama would like another diet coke!" as she so helpfully held her glass in the air and jingled it around so the clinking of the ice cubes would get my attention.  or "michelle obama needs her check now!"  i can honestly say that it's the first time i ever came so close to punching the first lady in the face.

6.  just because you bring your child to a restaurant doesn't automatically mean this is a daycare.

control your child.  teach them how to behave in a public place.  this restaurant isn't a jungle gym.  they shouldn't be sitting at the bar because it takes up a seat for someone who will buy drinks and tip the bartender.  i don't want to run back and forth to get your child cherries on a tiny sword.  if your child is underfoot and i'm carrying a large, extremely heavy tray of food containing knives and also bowls of hot curry i won't even feel bad if it falls on them.  and don't test me.  i will hang your child on the coat rack.  if i had a bucket list that exact thing would be on there.

7. don't be a dick.

if you've ever served then you're with me on this.  limit the amount of trips i have to make back to your large table by maybe taking stock of your cocktail when someone else is ordering their new one. having to make ten separate trips for each person after they've ordered their drinks is a pain in my ass.  less trips = i don't have to talk to you = shannon is a happy-ish camper.  also remember to be patient.  if i'm running around like a lunatic it's obviously for a reason.  you are not the only person i'm waiting on in this restaurant.  and please know that the faster you eat, drink, pay, tip, and the GTFO the better for everyone involved.

know that i will like you if you leave me things like this:

and know that this is what i would rather do than wait on tables.

just dick around with my friends.

      

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.