because last minute crap is my jam

i bought shitler's xmas present yesterday. i wasn't actually going to get him anything but then he called me at work (yesterday) and said he had just got done getting my xmas present and then i was under my breath muttery (i just made that word up and i really like it so i'm going to use it more frequently) with "son of a bitch" and he was like "what did you say?" and i was like "nothing.  i don't want to talk anymore.  bye."  and then i was like "damn, damn, damn what the shit am i going to get him?"  and there's pressure here people because shitler says i'm terrible at giving gifts (but the joke is on him because i'm just terrible at giving him gifts).  and since i didn't have a spare four hundred doll hairz laying around getting him a PS3 (or 4 because whatever i don't even know what the fuck is the most current gaming system) was out of the question.  so really and truly you would think i would learn from my mistakes about last minute xmas shopping because everything is picked over and there's basically nothing available (but obviously i never do).  so it was just a matter of making do with what was available.  and when i had collected the assortment of gifts in my cart i was fairly confident that all were excellent gifts.  but feedback is always nice so naturally i asked a nearby sixty year old man if he would enjoy all the items if he received them as a gift.  and he told me yes.  so if one were to follow logic - if shitler enjoys these gifts then he's basically a sixty year old man.
now be a good sixty year old man and drink that glass of straight jim beam.

no shilter, 'mo problems: when it rains it pours

real quick. shitler is still gone.  he comes back tomorrow.  THANK EVERYTHING IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD.   and not to go into much detail, because that's a post for another time, but i have lived in abject chaos for approximately eight-five percent of the time that shitler has been gone.
like really. like this since monday.

if that is enough to cause you to get an aneurysm then WELCOME TO THE CLUB. and then fast forward from monday to thursday morning (and i've kind of grown semi-accustomed to it - kind of) and it's 6.30 in the morning and i'm barely awake and stepping on stray building materials (like pieces of walls and also broken nails) as i make my through the gauntlet of sheets of drywall and tools and i curse (because that shit is hurtful to feet when stepped on) and then i look ahead and i curse even more.  because i saw this:

i'll give you some time to make an educated guess as to which asshole dog did it.  

you guessed mac, didn't you?

DING DING DING.

you don't get a prize because i'm broke but i'll give you a virtual high five.

i hope he enjoyed the old sour cream left in this container.

i assume he did because the container was so clean you would think i ran it through the dishwasher.

fun fact.

i made a box of salmon burgers last night.  i'd never had them before and they seemed questionable and i made all four that were in the box because i figured "hey, leftovers for lunch."  but it turned out that they were gross.  so i put them back in the box they came from and threw them in the trash.

apparently mac thought they were delicious.

delicious salmon burgers with a cardboard bun is what mac apparently enjoyed as a midnight snack.

so i cleaned it up and then made him pose by his late night dinner buffet.

when shitler gets back i'm refusing to do anything for two weeks.

I DESERVE IT.

p.s. i have never met a dog that looks so cute while being so naughty.  it vexes me.

a post where mainly i whine (sorry)

i came here today and just stared at the cursor till my eyeballs hurt. because there are totally things i want to write about but the effort to do so seems impossibly unattainable.  and really i'm just tired.  like there's a thousand things going on and really i no longer have the patience to do any of them and then it's like all hell breaks loose.
does everyone's life look something like this: xmas shopping?  not done. xmas presents i did buy?  not all wrapped. shark week?  happening right now (ladies know what i'm talking about). the house?  construction zone. the yard?  a mud pit. current status?  single dog mom. bank account?  so pathetically sad.
and okay maybe it doesn't look exactly like that but perhaps some of your life is like some of the above?  OR maybe just lie to me because misery loves company.
but really it's kind of crazy how you become so used to being part of a team. and then your fellow teammate bails on you (not really because yes it's for work) and leaves you in the dust (literal dust) and what you thought was going to be two blissful weeks of watching crap television turns out to be the exact opposite.  and really this entire post is becoming one giant whine-fest.  sorry.
maybe send me cat pictures. those always make me feel like a million bucks.
also this is my whole life.

a post about getting taught a lesson

well monday - we meet again you son of a bitch. i hope that everyone had like the best weekend ever because mine was total shit. but that's a tale for another time.
today i bring you a server story. which i think are the best because it's like you don't think people can actually be as asshole-ish as you think but then you have to wait on them and it turns out that some people are truly horrible.
so the story. it was friday night.  the restaurant was mildly busy when the manager decided to cut the floor (basic restaurant speak for going down to the closing servers and like me who is usually the last non-closing server to show up).  and typically when this happens the servers still on the floor end up with full sections and a late dinner push.  which is exactly what ended up happening.  it was nothing insanely busy but it was enough to keep you running around.
i had a table with a gentleman and his wife.  and at the beginning of service they had given me a movie ticket stub (the restaurant gives you five bucks off your meal if you go the movie theater across the street in the same day you come and eat at the restaurant) and i thanked them and put it in my pocket and went about my merry way.  suffice it to say that the man was unbearable from the get-go.  as in every time i checked on their table he went above and beyond to respond to make my questions with his obnoxious take on what my voice sounded like.  not to mention that the times i did go back to the table it was evident that he found me doing my job to be an annoying interruption of whatever lame story he was telling and couldn't possibly be bothered with me asking if he wanted another drink.  and it's exactly these people who are the kind who you can't ever win with.  my mere presence annoyed him but had i stayed away he would have been peeved that i wasn't attentive enough.
so the meal came to an end, i ran their credit card, and so very sweetly it would give you cavities told them that i hoped they had a "wonderful weekend," and then high-tailed it to the kitchen.  a few had minutes elapsed when a fellow server found me and told me that i had a table saying i had forgotten to take the five dollar discount off their bill.  and after a slew of expletives because i had forgotten and i knew which table it was i ventured out to speak with the gentleman.  i apologized profusely, told him i had completely forgot, and that i would void the transaction, take the five dollars off, and then re-run his credit card.  his response: "no.  that's ok.  i'll just take it off your tip."  and then he opened the check fold and in front of me furiously scribbled out the tip he had originally given me and wrote in the new tip.

in my head, while it was happening, i convinced myself i looked like this:

in reality i'm sure i looked like this:

the gentleman handed me back the book and i sweetly thanked him, once again, and hauled ass to the kitchen.  once i arrived back in the kitchen i couldn't stop laughing.  like at all.  the entire thing had given the kind of lolz that i couldn't control and just kept bubbling out.  i managed to get the story out to the manager and truly it felt like i had just been reprimanded by my father.  like the gentleman shorted me the five dollar discount that i had forgotten and then went above and beyond to dock my tip another three dollars.  almost as if to punish me further and perhaps teach me a lesson about forgetfulness. 

in all fairness - i had forgotten the discount and that's my bad.

but truly this gentleman was a prick.

shit happens.  restaurants get busy and things get forgotten.  but you bet your ass that i try and make up for it and go above and beyond to fix whatever mistake i made and be honest about it.

at the end of the day if that man feels way good about himself for shorting me on a tip because of a mistake i made that i offered to fix then so be it.  i'll take my ten doll hairz (that i had to tip out on to other people so really i only made eight doll hairz on that table) and i'll enjoy the taco bell it bought me and i hope, you sir, enjoy your miserable life. 

no shitler, 'mo problemz: blender wars

i forgot that i never told you guys the blender story. today we'll fix that. so once upon a time we got married. and people gave us stuff.  like nice stuff. and after people gave us said stuff shitler forbade me from using any of it in our current house. his exact words being "we're not using our nice stuff in this shitty house (p.s. the house is not shitty but shitler just badly wants to own his own house)." and i was like "whatever i don't even care." until three weeks ago when i had shakeology stuff that i wanted to try.  and after looking at all the recipes online it had become clear that i would need a blender.  and i was in luck.  because i knew just where to find one.

so i waited until shitler left for bowling that night and then lugged out the blender from a midst the mountain of presents.
and i made myself a shake.  a delicious peanut butter chocolately number that was simply divine.  and then i washed each and every piece, dried them, and put everything back in the box and left it next to the kitchen table because i knew the shakes would be a repeat offense.  fast forward to 2AM.  and being rudely awakened by shitler with a rough shake and the following words: "hey.  HEY.  did you use the blender we got as a wedding gift?"  as i blearily tried to understand what the fuck was actually happening shitler shook me again and asked the same question and when i rolled over to look at the clock and processed what was happening i was all "no shit sherlock yes i did use it.  what gave it away?"
and at this point it finally dawns on me that it's late as balls and shitler has had some cocktails and he is apparently quite miffed that i've used the blender.  so the conversation continues and shitler says "but i don't understand why you would use it.  we agreed that we weren't going to use any of the wedding gifts until we bought a house."  and i was all "i wanted to make a shake.  how do you propose i do that without a blender?"  and shitler was all whiney and went "but we were supposed to use these gifts together..."  and i was like "OMG it is 2AM.  what would you have liked me to do?
tape the box up and act like i never used it?"  and he quietly murmured "well, yeah."  and then i rolled over and barked at him to shut off the lights and go to sleep.
and the next morning i assumed that the issue was null and void.  except it wasn't. because shitler was like "we should just buy a super shitty blender for you to use and we can save the nice one for when we move."  and i was like "that's the dumbest thing i've ever heard.  you just need to relax and accept the fact that i'm using the blender."  and he was like "i don't like it."  and i was like "what don't you like about it?"  and he was all "you're going to ruin it.  you're going to run out the motor before it even gets to be in the new house."  and then every time i used he would give me the death glare from across the room and then he would come over to inspect that i cleaned it properly.  and then one time when i was cleaning it i got too close to the blade and sliced my finger.  and when he asked what i did and i told him his response was "good."  rude.   in conclusion i have two things to say: 1. shitler is super, super sensitive about blender usage. 2. since he's not home guess what i'm using and totally not putting away?
p.s. shitler - if you're reading this, like ya i love you, but it feels nice to not have to live under your blender dictatorship. p.p.s. i'm sure you probably saw this on my ginstagram but the picture is just too much derp.

no shitler, 'mo problemz: installment one (nothing exciting)

day one of "no shitler, 'mo problemz" is in the books. 'twas nothing terrible. i watched about seven straight hours of that vampire show "the originals."  and i think netflix asked me three or four times if i was still watching and i know everyone feels my pain about how junky and lazy netflix is able to make you feel but like whatever netflix if you don't knock it off i'm heading to hulu because they don't ask me that as often so bye.  
i thought about maybe finishing up wrapping the  x-mas presents but decided against that because it involved me getting off of the couch.  and also i made myself a hamburger on the george foreman grill and didn't bother to clean it off when i was done (take that shitler).  other than that there are still piles of laundry to be folded and put away.  and a sink full of dishes.  and apparently rain is deciding to be a thing.  in december.  in wisconsin.   which translates to mud.  which means the dogs track mud in the house each and every time they go outside and it's just a never-ending cycle of constantly washing their dog paws off and then washing the floors because there is mud everywhere and it's a fucking nightmare.
but really that was my day. exciting.  i know. i will say that the best thing about not having shitler around is not having to endure his constant judgement off my all-encompassing laziness.

and also i swear there will be better posts to come. i've totally been working on some.  say whaaaaaaaaat?  i know, i know.  it's unheard of around these parts.
also.  i was thinking of watching the victoria's secret fashion show tonight. like 100% to see t.swizzle but now i'm leaning towards maybe not watching it because i'll just feel like a giant over-weight lumber jack compared to all the darling beauties stomping down the runway. are you going to watch it?  should we watch it together?
also.  this picture of shitler and mac.  makes me lol.  hard. like get your paw of his thigh you super creep.

p.s. i took the trash up this morning.  now there's sauerkraut all over the top of my car.  #rude

a series: no shitler, 'mo problemz

a couple of weeks ago shitler called me at work. it was a normal conversation.  he probably called me a hoe and i probably told him to cram it. and then he informed me after two weekends of being out of town waging a war on deer that he would be leaving again.
for indiana.  for two weeks.  and i waited a beat and looked at my calendar and got like instantly annoyed.  because shitler was all "you'll probably have to do all the x-mas shopping yourself." and i was like " **INSERT EXAGGERATED HUFF HERE** - you're going to miss my work party.  who is going to squire my drunken ass about town?"  and then he was like "you're not seriously annoyed are you?"  and i was all "ya.  i am."  
because the deal is that while i'm the first to admit that i absolutely love it when he's gone, his absence still does suck a big fat one.  the last time he was gone for two weeks wasn't all that bad.  i'm still pissed i had to change that light bulb but like not as mad i was originally (also relax because yes i can change a light bulb but i just feel like i shouldn't have to because hello that's shitler's job and you can read the post i wrote about it here).  but now he'll be gone in december. and we live in wisconsin.  which means who the shit is going to keep me warm at night, and who is going to salt the treacherous hill that we live at the bottom of so that i don't slip and die, and who is going to shovel the snow when it falls, and who is going to listen to me whine about all the things i don't want to do, and who is going to bring me my inhaler and also tampons when i forget them at home, and who is going to drink with me, and who is going to suggest that we eat tacos, and who is going to drive my drunk ass home from my work party, and who is going to bring me chicken wings, and mainly WHO IS GOING TO PLAY WITH ME?
i know, i know.  first world problems. but i'm going to whine about it anyway.
so starting tomorrow and through the next like two weeks or whatever i'm going to catalog how much more difficult my life is without shitler around.  and that's not to be confused with him like how much i will miss him but more along the lines of how put out i'll be for two weeks (and don't even get me started on the lack of putting out during those two weeks because rude).  and also don't get any ideas that this will make me realize that i should be more grateful about having him around because i'm grateful.  barely.
also whatever are you looking at off in the distance, shitler?

the scale: AKA my nemesis

you know what blows the big D? working out like a maniac for entire month. and eating like half-way better than you normally do and also cuttting back on the drinking by like a lot.  and then getting on a scale and seeing that you only lost two measly fucking pounds. IN A MONTH. rude.  so impossibly rude i can't even handle it.
but the only saving grace in that entire debacle was that i remembered to measure myself before i set out on the month-long work out adventure.  and so after i stepped off the scale, and talked myself off of a ledge that included rage-eating an entire loaf of bread and taking a baseball bat to the scale a la office space, i grabbed my tape measure and was like "there better be some motherfucking inches missing or something dies."  and thankfully there were inches missing.  as in three off my waist and two off my hips and thighs.  and so part of me was relieved; that i had something to show after a month of doing things like two-thirds different than i normally do.  but with that being said it's not enough.  so come monday (the eighth) susan and i will be doing two weeks worth of no carb (or at least extremely low carb) in an effort to counteract all the nonsense.  also i think i'm going to force myself to run 150 miles by new years.  and then when i achieve that i'll like eat an entire cake or something.  just kidding.  my reward would include a never-ending build your own taco bar. #amiright
UGH.  it's just so frustrating to work SO much and have little to show for it. at least scale-wise. so what do you ladies do?  what are your favorite work outs?  favorite no carb/low carb meals? help a sister out.
also - can we get a damn huzzah for the mild botox that the blog got? she's looking trim and tight just in time for the holidays thanks to natalie! you can check out her blog here and her blog template shop here.
also this snapchat from shitler about sums up his war on deer.

because food

i just wanted to come here and tell you all that i really, really like girls. like especially girls that are similar to me in all my gluttonous ways. like why even bother hiding the primal beasts that we all are at our very core?  there's no point. and the reason i'm talking about my beast tendencies is because tonight is the very biggest drinking night of the year.  and i totally had plans to eat wings at my favorite bar down the street but then it turns out shitler has bowling, my one friend has a date, and  my other friend is re-financing her home (SHE'S A DAMN GROWN UP) thus leaving me dateless for over-indulging on wing date.  so instead the plan is to eat spicy hot chicken wings (probably twelve of them) and some haystack onion rings.  then wash it all down with a family-sized bottle of wine while watching episodes of top chef that i've already seen like three too many times.
also my blanket scarf arrived this week. so i'll just be hanging out in it.  kissy duck face and all because i'll be wined up by myself.

also can we talk about how cat pictures literally tell the story of my entire life.

like after i consume the obnoxious amount of food that i have planned and also the wine i imagine i will look like this:

what do YOU have planned for tonight? if you have nothing then join me by eating chicken wings  with me and we can snapchat about it. it'll be fun.  i promise.

p.s. happy bangs thanksgiving.

because friday

sometimes a friday comes around and it's different than other fridays. and it's because you don't have to work your second job and it's not because you have shitloads of crap to do that you have off from your second job but it's because you decided that you just wanted to be able to go out to dinner on a friday night with the rest of the world that doesn't have to work at a restaurant and you're going to enjoy the shit out of it.  and then, since you're lazy and you'll probably eat too much, you'll go straight home after said dinner and watch eight hours of sons of anarchy and rock back and forth while you weep because it's so emotionally overwhelming that your tiny woman brain can barely handle it.  and then you'll follow it up by watching the voice because then you can have a healthy weep session where you thank the lord there are truly talented people in the world (though you're still harboring a deep seated resentment that you received no such talent).  and this entire time you will be rocking really perfectly curled hair that almost never happens.  and then you'll also go to the gym friday, saturday, and sunday and you will realize that you've gone to the gym every single day for the last two weeks and you will be impressed with yourself.  but not so impressed that you throw yourself a damn party where only you're invited and you get too drunk because you have calories that you need to save to eat pizza on saturday night and carrot cake pancakes on sunday morning and then will have to packer fan indulge after that and then be so exhausted you'll nap from 3PM till when you have to wake up for work on monday morning.
and just so we're clear this entire post was me telling you what i'm going to be doing this weekend.
other things i did this week: 1.  bought a blanket scarf  because ashten. 2.  tried shakeology for the first time because of samantha (and no there's no post that i know of that's shakeology related but i just like her blog).  oh wait i just searched her blog and ya there's totally a post and here it is.  it's HERE. 3.  had some really in depth g.chat conversations with lindsay about food.  basically just food porn. 4.  had my life changed when samm told me that there are bravo emoticons. #twirl 5.  harrassed faith because she's been posting lasagna spaghetti squash pictures and has yet to fork over the recipe so that i can cram it down my gullet.
and also because a post is boring without a picture here's one from last tuesday that murders my uterus every time i look at it.

happy weekend'ing, you hoes! what's on your docket?

annual snooch check up

so adulthood. adult womanhood to be exact. it's a real thing.   like a real thing that includes yearly snooch check ups and getting felt up by someone who is practically a stranger.
so naturally the time came and went for my annual snooch tune up and along with the duck-billed platypus instrument that gets crammed up there and the awkward small talk during there comes the inevitable talk about any concerns i may have had.  and so i mentioned to her that a few times during said menstruation cycles i will have "break through bleeding" (sidenote - i really enjoyed forcing shitler to listen to my snooch tales because he didn't care but it was like he couldn't not listen and be completely grossed out/uncomfortable and if you need a visual of how i tell shitler stories that he doesn't care about it would be this GIF and obviously he's the cat and i'm the sloth).

but i digress.  because my gyno was all "we can switch you to another pill" and i was all "no thanks because i swear the one i'm on now is the only one covered by my insurance and i'm too cheap to pay for it because that would cut into other various, useless shit i buy on a regular basis."  and she was like "oooook?  so you're ok with bleeding?"  and i was like "well i don't like love it but it's better than before when i would bleed out for like four weeks time."  and she was like "touche."  and then i was like "i just think my menstrual cycle is too powerful and it can't be tamed with traditional means that work on other female cycles."  and then she looked at me like i was nuts and then burst out laughing.  and then she was like "i've never heard it described like that before.  i'm using it from it now on.  it'll be a power surge."  and i was all "we're a good team."  and then i high-fived her and said "see ya next year."

p.s. this year i won the no finger in the butthole lottery at my gyno.  this is my second year dodging that terrible bullet.  and don't act like i'm nuts for having this happen.  because people have questioned this and it's totally thing.  i googled it.

please regale me with your gyno appointment stories.
i need to be entertained.

a mishmash

guys. i did something this morning. something unheard of.
i dragged my unhappy ass to the gym at 5:15 in the AM. and although it was pitch black dark outside and windy and cold and it felt weird to be there working out when really all i truly wanted to be was cocooned in my blanket fort spooning my dog i will fully admit that i kind of feel like i could almost take on the world right now.  but i could be confusing the take over the world feeling with ravenous all-consuming hunger but that's neither here nor there.  and this feeling of accomplishment that i'm currently feeling is only rivaled by the feeling of accomplishment i have after i take a shower.  so really it's the little things. or whatever.
also guys. today marks six months of being married to shitler. where's my medal?  because i damn sure deserve one when this beast is what you're married to.

but anyway.

really i just wanted to tell you that i can't believe i actually worked out at 5:15 this morning.  that's one for the record books, methinks.  people don't do gifts for this halfway, almost to a year of being married anniversary, do they?  i hope not.  if they do then my gift to shitler is me going to the gym this morning and also only being half way drunk when he gets home from bowling tonight. 

HAPPY DAY TO YOU SHITLER.

also can we talk about how six months ago we were frolicking on a beach and now it's november and politics is upon us and it's cold and i don't want to do anything at all except eat and hibernate?

p.s. this is a fun wedding photo that sometimes makes me want to "squeeeee!"

p.p.s. i wish i were better at blogging.

adult things are weird

you know what's weird? the general progression of life.   stop me if you've heard this before but i can't be alone in thinking this. like when did we all of the sudden become adults?  and start doing adult things, no less?  like getting married, having a car payment, buying a house, having babies, etc. etc. etc.
i can't be the only one that logs onto facebook every now and again and is confused when they see a person they went to high school with and they've just popped out a child and then you're all "welp, there's another teen mom."  and then reality comes crashing down around you and you're like "wait.whoa.no.  she's not a teen, she's turning thirty this year."  and then you're all "WHERE DID MY LIFE GO?"  because i know that it's totally normal for people to be having babies and doing other adult things but apparently, for me, it's difficult for my brain to process.
but the point to this is is that it's halloween. and halloween is the day that my best friend in the whole entire world was born. and it's weird because it's the first time like ever in the history of all of our halloweens spent together that we will not be black out drunk together.  and it won't be for lack of trying (at least not on my part).  but she's doing the grown up thing where there's currently a womb creature wriggling around inside of her. 
the days of old were most excellent.  the days of party refs, dorothy, that red sox fan steve bartman, a devil in a blue dress, a construction worker, and a chicken are over.

but really this weekend is minneapolis time.

thank goodness gracious because that means nikki time and also matt's bar because jucy lucys and beer for me but just a jucy lucy for nikki.  and really all i want to do for halloween is lay on the couch in our sweatpants while we wait for the pumpkin seeds to bake and watch hocus pocus.  because an exact replica of sophomore year halloween in college when we weren't real adults would be my dream.  because now we're old and married (and only half of us is knocked up) and it's too much work to go to madison for halloween and avoid getting trampled and tear gassed like we did that one year.  instead we will just do things like nap, get married, and be pregnant (not me, her).

make room for me on the bandwagon!

can we talk about the pedometer craze? i never really understood it.  like cool.  it counts your steps.  HOW INTERESTING.
but then my friend had a brand new fitbit one straight out of the unopened box that she was selling for fifty doll hairs and i couldn't not get it from her.  and once i had it in my grubby paws it was like a revelation and i totally one hundred percent understood what the big fucking deal was.  it's impossible to not obsess over all the steps you're taking, all the flights of stairs you're going up, and whether or not you're having any active minutes.  and then you can challenge people and the competition aspect brings out the absolute worst cut throat attitude and you're constantly just making extra trips to do any and all of the most small and menial tasks just to get yourself more steps.  and then you get badges, which are meaningless really, but make you feel special.  like "YES the twenty-five flights of stairs in a day badge?!" go me!  so that's what my life has come down to.  constantly monitoring my activity during the day and then also studying my sleep habits.  and speaking of sleep study i'm going to get hammered drunk one of the nights this weekend and then review whether i'm restless or not during a passed out drunk stupor like i'm restless during my week night sober sleeps.
so if you want to be fitbit friends let's please be fitbit friends because then i can have one more person to obsessively try to out step every day.
and also i just went to the bathroom and giggled when i looked at my underwear.   i forgot they had top hats on them.  cheers.
p.s. what kind of underwear are you wearing today?
p.p.s. this is quite possibly my favorite picture of all time.  you're welcome.

p.p.p.s.  i'm still going to do that smut link up.  i swear.  maybe you don't care. but i'm thinking november.  let's discuss more about it on monday.

p.p.p.p.s. i think i'm doing the multiple p.s. thing wrong but i don't feel like googling it.

the bet

i don't know about anyone else but when people refer to "the most wonderful time of the year" i assume they're talking about football season.  and football season is just that much more wonderful if you're a packers fan (hash tag america's team and if you think it's any other team i will fight you) because hello aaron rodgers and slay matthews, and jordy, and randall and yes i like to refer to most all of the players by their first names because we're close like that (i wish AHEM slay and aaron).  and loving the packers and having cancelled cables means that oh-shucks-darn you have to watch the games at a bar that gives touchdown shots, prizes like free booze and bags sets, and also free drinking if you win the cheesehead hat.

but football season also means fantasy football.  and if we're being honest - i'm terrible at it.  like every season i have such high hopes for my team but i draft like shit and then none of my players ever live up to their potential.  and then i'm crushed because i get my ass kicked every week and never even make it to the playoffs.  and obviously this season wasn't supposed to be any different.  because the first few weeks tim tom brady decided to phone it in and i got my ass kicked from here to timbuktu.  but then in week three i was given a gift from the fantasy football gods when i played a team that had nearly every dominating player on a bye and i was all "i don't even care if this is a crap win because a win is a win and i will take it."  and then in week four i lost by a measly 3.53 points and i was like "at least it wasn't a blow out."  and then in week six i won.  again.  and by this point in time i was just generally confused as the feeling of winning was just so incredibly foreign.  which brings us to this last week; week seven: rivalry week.  which is basically couples week in the pool of tears (that's the delightful league name, FYI).  so naturally shitler taunted me and told me how i sucked balls and then asked if i was interested in a wager of sorts.  and i was down because what did i have to lose?  and the answer was not one red cent.  because existing at the bottom of the totem pole had its perks.  those being that there's really only one way to go.  and that's up.  shitler, on the other hand, had everything to lose.  sitting in first place and possibly losing to a wife that sucks donkey dick at fantasy football is certainly nothing anyone could brag about.
and so the negotiations began.
shitler: if you win you want butt stuff, don't you? me: what?  no.  you wish, loser. shitler: **weird creepy laugh** me: if i win i get a kitten. shitler: no. me: oh so you're not confident in your first place team? shitler: i can't risk it.  anything thing else? me: the other band for my wedding ring then. shitler: damn lady. me: you can either agree to a free cat (with nominal vet bills) or the other band for my ring. shitler: neither. me: those are my two choices.  you decide. shitler: ugh.  i hate you.
and then the most miraculous thing happened.  i won.

and then i was all david after dentist and "IS THIS REAL LIFE?"

so yes.  ladies (and no gentlemen, i'm sure) i totally won.  but the kicker is that shitler has refused both of my options for the conditions of the bet.  which leaves me with having won nothing.  which leads me to the point of this post.  which is your help.  your help in picking out what i shall now demand since shitler will not acquiesce with my demands of a kitten or my other wedding band.

what would you demand as spoils 

of the fantasy football rivalry week win?

victory

it's friday. the packers laid out a straight beat down on the vikings last night. life is good.
cheers hoes.

p.s. do yourself a damn favor and throw this bitchin' song on repeat.

one week anniversary of over-serving myself. again.

last week wednesday i had a conversation with shitler that went something like this:
me: oh hey - i'm staying at melissa's house tomorrow night.
shitler: why?
me: because we're going to drink too much wine and hork all the food in our faces and i'm going to be too drunk to be able to commandeer any type of motorized vehicle (like even a fucking big wheel).
shitler: oh.
me: ya, so see you sunday.
and then i think we high-fived and went our separate, merry ways till sunday.
so with that being said - today is the one week anniversary of when i thought it would be a good idea to eat my fucking face off and drink one of those family sized bottles of pinot noir with my friend.  and by drink one of those family sized bottles of pinot noir i mean that i drank an entire 1.75 and she also drank an entire 1.75 and then we tried to watch the movie "the other woman" but it didn't work out because we re-started it like six times but then got distracted by eating a jar of pickled asparagus and also by needing to order partylite and then we finally passed out but not before i demanded that her cats sleep in the bed but duh cats don't listen so they ignored me.
but then all the fun came to a screeching halt when the alarms went off the next morning and it was like a stumble fest of trying to dress myself and also figure out where the fuck i was (because i responsibly spent the night at my friend's house).  and also i warned her that she shouldn't be alarmed if i tried to cuddle or spoon her because it's what i'm accustomed to but what i'm not accustomed to is sleeping next to someone that isn't covered in hair so it was kind of weird and i felt out of place but i made do because i was wine drunk and i could have probably slept on a hardwood floor.  and then we hauled ass to work and as i sat at my desk i was all "WOE IS ME, WHY DO I DO THIS.  SHANNON YOU ARE A TERRIBLE DECISION MAKER."  and then i was like "UGH, i have to work at the restaurant tonight - IS THIS REAL LIFE?"  and then i was all  "wait a minute.  once upon a time i was honest about not wanting to work a shift and it totally got me out of work so maybe try it again."  you can read about that here.  so i quickly shot off a text to my manager:

so no.  i didn't get out of the second round job that night.

i put in the regular eight hour day and then suffered through another six hour shift where i swear the universe was punishing me for my over-indulgence because like every table ordered red wine and it taunted me and my hangover because vomatrocious (not a word but deal with it). 

so the moral of the story is that i haven't had anything boozy to drink since then. which has made all the difference in how i feel on a daily basis.  I KNOW.  I GET IT.  EVERYONE TOLD ME SO.  whatever.  i'm a glutton for punishment.  also this last tuesday, as in three days ago, i did one of those frisky fall tone it up circuit thing at the gym and immediately after i finished i felt like i could take on the world but then i woke up the next morning and almost fell down the stairs because apparently my legs worked so hard the night before that they felt they didn't need to show up to the next day at all.
originally i was going to post some pictures about my labor day weekend i the northwoods of wisconsin but then this post spiraled wildly out of control and i don't have any type of motivation to bring it full circle.
so instead i leave you with this cat; because in my mind it's spoon-feeding me carbs.

p.s. i want to do a smut link up and i wrote about it here.
so check it out.  let's do it.  not like "it" but like the link-up.

a beginning: smut mondays

if you've read stuff here for any length of time then you'll know how much i love me some smut. like any and all (except the kind that talks about fisting because that's just not for me).
you can read all of the posts i've written about smut here and here. i know - two whole posts - how in depth.
but the point is that i love to read the smut and i love when people recommend other smuts and i thought that maybe like twice a month we could do a smut link up and i show you mine and you show me yours.  relax - the books, not any body parts.  perverts.  but then we could talk about all the awesome smut we've read and also all the terrible stuff that you don't even want to admit to starting let alone finishing.
so come back on monday, october 13th, for our first edition of smut mondays. i'm still working on making a button because i'm remedial but i did make this banner type thing and i'm super proud of it.

also - if you're serial about the link up - perhaps leave a comment so i know i won't be the one and only person linking up two mondays a month.  k.thanx.bai.

a novel snippet

i assume that most people like to read.
at least people i like to be friends with (if not - i can kind of look passed it).
i thought i would take the opportunity to introduce you to jenn.  who is one mighty nice lady and one helluva writer.  you can find her blogging at quirky pickings where she does some of the best giveaways and has great posts and just in general she's like the nicest person and one of my most favorite internet friends.

jenn is currently working on a novel and after reading the first chapter she sent me i demanded that she send me more and she did and it's excellent and i love it!  so here today is a snippet from said novel that i thought i would share with you!

so get your read on and then go ahead and let jenn know that you love it just as much as i do!


so there's this girl named isabel. she likes this guy called reese. and he likes her, but she's more than a little surprised by this. and not prepared for what happens next. their story begins three years ago in the fall.

“Isabel, it’s barely one,” Reese said.

She paused, angled her head so that she could see him. “I gotta be at school early.”

“On a Sunday?”

“I know.” She shoved her hair back. Not because it was in her way—she’d managed, miraculously, to get through a whole day without putting her hair up—but because she needed something to do with her hands to hide the way they sometimes shook, like her voice did, whenever she spoke to him. So she spoke fast. “I gotta get to the ceramics studio to finish up some projects.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll walk you out.”

Why? Her brow furrowed. “I’m not that far. Just the garage across the street. You don’t have to.” I kind of don’t want you to. Not that it’s not nice of you to offer. But, then I’d have to talk to you.

“I’ll walk you out.”

“Okay.” She waited, reluctantly, as Matthew let Reese out. He stood, placed a hand at the small of her back. A second of shock. Of alarm. Her dark eyes widened then fluttered shut as her mindset shifted from appalled to appreciative—it actually felt kind of nice to have his hand there—and then to wonder. What the hell? That’s not friendly. That’s… that’s… what the hell? Her gaze snapped to his. And she thought she saw amusement flash across his face.

“Change your mind? You gonna stay?”

He’s just being nice, Isa, which is what you like about him. Snap out of it. “No.” She turned her head and marched to the entrance. Glanced at the bouncers as she uttered, “Good night.”

His hand wasn’t at her back anymore. She’d walked a little too quickly for that. To keep her hands busy, for a distraction, she began twirling her keys. “I don’t know why you think I need an escort. I've walked to my truck a thousand times before by myself. I don’t—”

“I don’t understand why my walking with you is a big deal.”

Because I can’t talk to you! She walked faster. The sooner she got to her truck, the better. She didn’t even bother to check for traffic as they crossed to the movie theater and then again to the garage.

“I don’t understand that either,” he said.

“What's that?”

“You don’t talk much. Especially to me. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you didn’t like me.”

But I do. I do. “Maybe I don’t have much to say.”

“Oh, I doubt that. I think you have a lot to say. You just don’t say any of it.”

Hurry up, Isabel!

“Especially to me,” he repeated. “I wonder why that is.”

“I’m shy.”

“I know.”

Then why ask the question? “So?”

“So, I don’t understand why?”

She sighed. Because you’re a beautiful man, and I like looking at you. A good one, and I wouldn’t have a clue what to talk to you about because you’re you, and I’m me, and… I’m just a girl. Too damaged and far too fragile for the likes of you. “I don’t suppose just because would be a sufficient answer.”

“I suppose so. You’re gonna be at the studio all day tomorrow?”

Ugh. Unfortunately, yes. “God, I hope not.”

“What do you have to do?”

Pretty much everything. They’d gotten to her truck. She unlocked it, threw her things inside and stood there, her back against the cab. Sure, she liked looking at him. But not when he was looking at her. So she focused on everything she saw around him. The cracks in the concrete. The scuff marks on her favorite shoes, her Docs—I should take them to a shoe shop and have them cleaned. The shrubbery on the other side of the brick. The glint of chrome—And I should get my truck washed. And the gleam of red paint—Why anyone would spring for a red car, one the color of a tomato, and pay more to insure the thing makes no sense. Ceramics, Isabel. Focus. “I've to glaze three pieces and make one. I’ll probably be there all day. It’s gonna suck, but that’s what I get for cramming the majority of a semester’s work into one day, for waiting ‘til the last minute.” She glanced at her watch, more to busy her hands than to check the time. “I should’ve left earlier.”

“How much earlier? An hour? Two? We’d just gotten there at eleven.”

“Yeah. I know. But I won’t be in bed until two, and I doubt I’ll get to sleep until three, and I gotta get up at eight.” She’d been thinking aloud. Too much, Isabel. He doesn’t need to know this. She blew out a breath. “It’s late.”

“So. Sleep ‘til nine.”

“Can’t. Too much to do.” She looked him then. “Why do you ask anyway? You’re working, right?”

“Yeah. I was just curious.” He grinned.

Good Lord. She fought the urge to put a hand to her stomach, to chew on her lip.

“Making conversation,” he said.

“Hm. Okay. Well.” She pressed up against the truck. The way he was looking at her now… it was weird. She didn’t know what to think of it. “I’m gonna go.” She set a hand on the interior handle, pushed the door open wider and started to climb inside. His hand was on her again. This time, he’d wrapped his fingers around her arm above the elbow. Not tight. He didn’t hurt her. But the contact had unnerved her, nonetheless. And before she had a chance to say anything, he had turned her, stepped closer still and fixed his mouth on hers. Wait. Wait. What is this? You’re not supposed to be doing this. You’re not supposed to want to. I don’t know how to do this. Reese, wait. Wait. And then… two boys. The trees. The ground. Stop. Stop!

He did. Stepped back.

Just breathe, Isa. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. It’s Reese. Not them. He’s good. He’s good.