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.