snapchat 2.0

i once confessed my undying love for snapchat here. and mainly it was just examples of all the things that we should be snapping more of.
and since that time i've decided that i left off two super important things that i think we should be snapping more of. 
1// poop snapchats
some shitler pooping snapchats:

discussions about poop snapchats:

and i must give props to all the people that send me the classic snapchat of their feet while they are perched on the porcelain throne.  bravo to you poop snapchatters, bravo.

2// food snapchats

and don't get whiny and complain that food and poop shouldn't be in the same post because HELLO you wouldn't get to the poop without the food part so relax.

and although the artistic snapchat is not something new to add i must give big ups to this snapchat that i received because it is gloriously artistic and i'm obsessed with it.

p.s. i wish i had better things to blog about.  but really my life sucks.  so whatever.

shitler's shenanigans

am i the only bride to be that was like instantly excited at the thought of my bachelorette party?  like maybe a little bit more than the actual getting married thing? and mainly when i envisioned my bachelorette i thought about everyone coming to my house and laying on couches and getting wasted while watching trash reality television.  god i'm a loser.  but then the planning began and things started to get awesome and then shitler started talking mad shit about how lame my bachelorette was going to be compared to his because girls are dramatic and everything will go wrong and we will have a terrible time.  and that should shock none of you because HELLO he is shitler.
but i digress.  because the point of this is that shitler's bachelor party was this weekend.  and originally he tried so desperately to act like he didn't even want one when in reality he is the biggest attention whore i know and to say that he wouldn't want an entire event revolving solely around him would be a lie.  so they planned something slightly low-key.  an afternoon at the cigar shop, a group dinner (like 35 penises together - WOOF), and then to a bar.
like i said - pretty low key.  except some people started drinking at noon.  and by the time everyone reached the bar were possibly beat up, black out drunk.  and then they got mouthy and lippy with a bouncer and got kicked out of the bar.  and then got the cops called on them while they were waiting for a ride.  and then they got argumentative with the cops.  and finally the cops had enough and carted them off to the drunk tank for like five hours to sober the two boys up.
for the record - it was not shitler.  it was shitler's brother and cousin and both ended up with disorderly conduct tickets but no shameful jail stories (i would make a joke about them being someone's bitch and/or dropping the soap but they weren't there long enough and also those jokes are so, so tired but it's also the only jail-type jokes i know.  besides toilet wine.  but i don't think toilet wine pertains here.  unless they started drinking their own toilet wine at noon which would make sense and bring things full circle).
but back to the story.  myself and one of my bridesmaids (who happens to be shitler's cousin) were called to go scoop up the drunks.  i was informed that shitler was "white boy wasted" and that he almost got kicked out of the bar; on account of him flipping off a bouncer behind said bouncer's back but being too drunk to realize that other bouncer's were around witnessing the whole thing.  and then someone puked all over my bridesmaid's car on the ride home.  as in all over the seats, all over the center console, and all over the other two people he was riding in the backseat with.  and one of the other passengers had to stand in his underwear on the side of the highway while puke was attempted to be removed from the car since his clothes were covered in vomit.  and shitler demanded that i stop the car at one point because he couldn't figure out how to get his phone out of his pocket.  joke was on him because the car was in park.
and bless his drunk little heart because he couldn't understand how to work my phone let alone my spotify but he was determined to listen to music and then this is how i found my spotify in the morning.

obviously i'm concerned.  about a lot of things.
but good things do sometimes come from being sober. more specifically - pictures like this.

gumby in hand pass out picture.

and even better - when he was informed that he could lay down in a bed he exclaimed "I'M TRAINING!"  good for him.

p.s. i can't stop staring at my hair because HI it looks fantastic for like 3AM.

p.p.s. i'd like to treat you to the following conversations.

like an early x-mas present for you kids.

late night conversations with a drunken shitler:
shitler: why is your dad so good at foosball? me: couldn't tell you. shitler: but seriously.  he's so good at foosball.  he shouldn't be that good at foosball.  he kicked all of our asses.  he's like 80 years old.  he shouldn't be that good at foosball.  i don't get it. me: my dad isn't 80 years old.
shitler: i can't wait to eat a sandwich tomorrow. me: we'll need more lunch meat. shitler: WHAT?  WHY? me: tony made himself a sandwich. shitler: WHY WAS I NOT INFORMED?! me: he literally ate the sandwich right in front of you. shitler: oh.
shitler: i wish i could get a boner right now. me: why is that? shitler: puss (as in pussy cat) - you know why. me: ohhhhh ok.  then get a boner. shitler: i can't.  i couldn't get a boner if mila kunis was here with one million dollars needing me to get a boner. me: that's unfortunate.  

secret shopper

i probably shouldn't spill my secret ways here.

because from time to time shitler reads this and then corners me about what i've written when i'm least expecting it and then i can't even use my tried and true "i don't know what you're talking about" because he literally has written proof of something that i've declared for all of the internet to see.

to preface this post we need to remember that i gave up all things alcohol for four goddamn months.  and i feel like i'm not even in the home stretch.  like there's still fifty some days to go and i want to rage at everyone and their delicious boozy beverages.  so with that being said i've freed up funds that i used to spend on vodka and wine.  and albeit it was all cheap wine and vodka i've got to have saved monies because i've no longer had to buy a bevy of hangover beverages and foodstuffs that help said hangover be more bearable.

i for sure have more expendable income that a) i can spend on other things and b) deserve to spend on other things as a reward from staying away from the sauce and also dropping LBs.

and p.s. i am morally opposed to buying anything at full price and/or without some sort of discount code that i've spent hours scouring the internet for so nothing i ever buy is like a bad idea.  and i make it a point of telling shitler that.  like all the time.

but more importantly there are ways to bypass the bullshit of having to explain things to your other half about all the things that mysteriously appear in your home.  here are my ways.

1. have most things delivered to your work thusly enabling you to smuggle contraband into your home little by little and having to do little to no explaining.

2. certain things are always on backorder.  as in "no i ordered this a long time ago but they're just now shipping it to me."

3.  use the classic man flaw of not paying attention.  like "no, we have always had that.  you're just too busy watching sports center when i'm showing you things!  if you loved me you would pay more attention to me when i'm talking to you.  don't you love me?!!?!"

4. things were gifted to you.  it's not your fault that you have magical friends that like to buy you stuff.

5.  use dramatics.  "DON'T YOU WANT ME TO BE HAPPY?!  THESE THINGS MAKE ME HAPPY!"  or "NOTHING FITS ME ANYMORE I HAVE TO BUY THESE THINGS."  and my favorite "IT'S MY WEDDING AND I NEED NEW OUTFITS AND I DESERVE IT."

let's be honest.  i rarely feel bad about buying anything because hello i work two jobs and shitler spends forty dollhairz a week on bowling.  BOWLING.  so in my head we're even.  and mainly i deserve it.

also i have pictures of him like this.

i win.

and for funsies let's get with whit.

and fleetwood mac because duh.

day of the douche

there are probably like a gazillion other things that i could be writing a post about but instead i will write it about this gentleman douche instead.

if you're one of my snapchat friends then you've had the esteemed pleasure of seeing many a snap of his ballz.  and you probably curse me for it but that shit is hilarious and you know it.  i have to see it in person and frankly those giant things are way too close to me for my comfort at all times.  case in point - the other morning when i woke up and he was crammed on the couch with me, on his back, legs in the air, and balls staring straight at me is a for sure thing no one needs at 5AM.
but there is a point to all of this ball talk.  i assure you. once upon a time someone emailed me a link to a litter of puppies and i spastically forwarded it to shitler and demanded another puppy as a mother's day gift.  and i wish i could blame being drunk on the insane reasoning and demand but alas - that is not the case.  shitler acquiesced and the rest, they say, is history.  because that's how we got McElhenney McCrae Lincoln and Murphy Lee has never truly gotten over it.
as in - i think he still longs for the days of the one dog household yore.

either he shit on the couch or destroyed the cover. i can't be sure.

but now for the actual point.

because when you get a puppy from a breeder there's all sorts of hoops to jump through and the wait period before you can actually pick the puppy up.  we brought mac home on mother's day, which in retrospect, is like the world's worst mother's day gift ever.  but mother's day is not his birthday.  
TODAY IS.
so that's the point of all this convoluted bullshit.  mac-dizzle is four years old today. i deserve a dog mom medal for the last four years.  that's for damn sure.
so mac - i didn't buy you anything.  you 100% don't deserve it (considering you've probably shit somewhere in the house as i write this).  so you get a blog post and one of your father's beers tonight.
and the following toast: here's to many more years of you rolling in your own shit, eating my soiled tampons, feasting on trash can buffets, using me as your glorified dog bed, acting like you're dumb as rocks to avoid obeying commands, and  being generally the weirdest dog i have ever met in my entire life.
i'm so lucky to call you mine.
p.s. when shitler and i get divorced you're going with your father.

i can't even ever really spell pneumonia

if i had a white flag i would be waving it. because sickness won.  it won big time.
everything was coming up roses.  i joined a new (and better gym) albeit it a more expensive one and i totally went like almost every, single day.  even did a yoga class and didn't fart.  and my whole life (for a hot minute) felt like i was kicking ass and taking names.
and then last sunday i woke up with this weird dry cough that wouldn't quit.  and it's not like it was preventing me from really doing anything important but it was moreso cramping my style because it was annoying.  and then monday it was worse.  and on tuesday everything came crashing down.  because my cough had turned into something that wouldn't stop and often resulted in me gasping for breath and having intermittent panic attacks because it felt like at any moment the cough was going to suffocate me.  on wednesday i caved and went to the doctor and prayed that it would just be something that they could treat.  since i'm convinced there is nothing worse than having to pay out of the ass for a doctor's visit where they tell you it's viral and you should just drink a lot of water and rest (worst $100 ever spent).  so the doctor inspected me.  had me do deep breaths in and out (which sounded like my lung was whistling) and then told me not to freak out but that i had pneumonia in my left lung.  and then i was all "whatever doc - GIMME THE DRUGS.  MAKE ME BETTER."  so the good doctor prescribed a medication that has a high possibility of causing tendinitis and also two inhalers.  one of which, if i don't follow up with rinsing out my mouth properly, could cause me to get an oral yeast infection called "thrush."  but the risk is worth it because this shit is awful, thrush kind of sounds interesting, and for five consistent days i set up camp on the couch because shitler didn't want me in the bed and wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole.
so anyway that was a super long drawn out way of saying that i was sick and that i didn't do anything but alternate between watching parenthood, sons of anarchy, and vampire diaries for like five straight days which could also be used to describe heaven but like sans the pneumonia.
mac and all of his sixty pounds of pain in my ass camped out on top of me for the majority of the time. AKA his heaven.

and also the internet is pretty boring when people are out not having pneumonia.

like you skanks were all out doing things and not posting things on various social media outlets so by default my like sucked  because your lives were awesome.

also this picture makes me laugh.

because i can't stop saying 'dirty thirty'

i'm here to write a birthday post. and it feels like i literally just did one.
but this one is for shitler. the dude i'm going to marry in two months (which is still slightly mind-blowing). we've been together for what feels like an eternity and i like to think that we're not like most other couples.  and if there is we should find them and kill them because i want to be the only shanny and shitler.  but you are for sure the only person that i can lay in bed with while eating deli meats and watching heavyweights and not feel like a complete asshole.  and you're the only one who allows me to be mean as shit to you (like i truly want to be with others but can't ever justify).  and you're definitely the only one that will attempt to answer odd questions i ask you.
questions like:
how many times did you jerk off today?  did you watch porn?  what kind? why don't you let me watch you pee? are you sure you don't have a gluten allergy? can i pop this zit on your back while you poop? when can we get a cat?  what about that duck?  also a mongoose?
and honestly you tolerate me constantly taking pictures of the weird shit you do. which gives me so many lolz.

so happy birthday shitler.

you are officially thirty and old as fuck.

remember when we were younger, skinnier, and prettier?

ya - me too.

p.s. no mouth hug today.  i have a cough.