excited: party of two

are you ever just so out of your goddamn mind excited that you can't even see straight?  like whatever you may be excited about is what consumes every thought you have when you're conscious?  and also your dreams (i assume i'm dreaming about this too but i never remember my dreams so i'm not sure).  and for the most part you're utterly useless to everyone because you have a one track mind about the excitement and do nothing else but obsess about it?
that's currently my situation.  like even more excited than getting engaged.  and even more excited than my own wedding and a two week vacation in mexico.  COMBINED.  like straight up lose your mind and melt your damn brain excited.
and no - i'm not pregnant. and it's bad enough that i was asked three times in the last seven days about whether i was pregnant.  i swear to everything that i will choke the next person that asks me that.  OR maybe i'll just tell them i'm barren.  that ought to to take care of things. and in a nice, awkward way.
but i digress.  back to the task at hand.  shitler and i moved in together the summer after we both graduated from college.  and it was grand.  we lived on a property that had three houses situated on it so we were renting a house on the lake for a fraction of the price.  in the summers we boozed on boats and piers down by the water and during the winters shitler ice fished his ass off. we got dogs on that property (even though we weren't supposed to), engaged on that property, and got into all sorts of other shenanigans on that property (see also: what shitler refers to as apartment-ruining fights that invovled a past roommate and their significant other).
check out how good we look; drinking by the basement wall circa 2008.

and even though we had tons of memories and an unimaginable amount of fun living there we both couldn't help getting slightly restless the older we got.  living on the lake is awesome.  living at the bottom of a treacherous hill come winter-time in wisconsin is not awesome.  my pregnant friends weren't allowed over nor were you allowed over if you had just had a child.  and it never failed that my overly active imagination thought about the worst possible thing happening.  i.e. a pregnant friend slipping and falling or a recently born baby tumbling down the stairs in its carrier and then me reacting to the insane fucking tragedy unfolding before me is not something i'm able to cope very well with.  i can't count the number of times i've slipped down that hill during the winter time (drunk OR sober thank you very much).  and no amount of salting the steps helped since the snow just melted during the day and quickly refroze into slick ice.  in all honesty - mountain climbing gear would have been incredibly helpful over the last eight years.  swearsies there was one winter where we just straight up slid down the hill on our asses till we hit the door.  

we affectionately referred to the spring time (or any other time it rained for that matter) as mud season.  the rain would run down the steps creating a torrential stream of water that would eventually collect in our basement and the dogs (obviously just mac because murphy is a fucking angel) so enjoyed prancing through all the mud and were then hesitant to comply with any and all methods of getting clean.  

and then there's just shitler.  and his restless wanting to do house projects.  for all those who don't know - shitler is quite the handy guy.  i think, technically, his job is a sub-contractor.  so he flips house, builds condos, remodels basements and bathrooms and then does most of those things for his friends and family (less flipping houses and building condos for friends and family and more so helping friends and family with house projects since home boy is not that generous).  shitler loves doing house projects for people; but one day he said to me "i'm sick of doing shit at everyone else's house. i want to do shit at my own house (i know - he's very eloquent)."  

so we took the terrifying next step.  and started looking at all the things house-buying entailed.  and it's insane stuff to go over.

like - you know you're broke.  but then you break it all down and you're all "i'm really broke.  how am i even making it?"  and then lenders don't want to lend to you.  and there's debt to income and there's needing to fix your credit and there's different kinds of loans and then there's money down and then you just want to throw yourself off a cliff.  because that's just the first step and you haven't even looked at a fucking house yet.  and for us - all that started in 2014.  and nothing actually came to fruition until just recently.  because first we had to rehab credit scores and attempt to pay off debt.  and even after all that it seemed like house buying was an insurmountable feat and maybe we just give the fuck up.

until 3 weeks ago - when shitler showed me a picture of a house and we decided to go look at it (we actually looked at two different houses and one just had a weird as fuck layout a twenty-five foot patch of grass the dogs would have to shit on).

and then we decided to put in an offer.  and then we had to wait an excruciating forty-eight hours to hear back.  and it was during those forty-eight hours that i realized how truly emotionally unstable i was (about everything in the world though - not just home buying).  but they countered and it was acceptable.  so we accepted it.  and then i had to sign papers.  and then we had to pay money (like thousands) and then the deed was done.  and come january - we move.

but right now - this is me and shitler.

let's circle back around to me being excited as fuck.  because i am.  and so is shitler.

because it will be ours.  and shitler can do house projects.

and shitler will also soon realize the true extent of my madness when i show him all the things on pinterest and go "MAKE IT HAPPEN, CLOWN.  and he'll be horrified that i pick backsplash colors that make me think of fairies sprinkling fairy dust through my kitchen and that i also want a full-blown wardrobe in the bedroom because NARNIA.

but he'll also tell me yes.  because he has to.  because i'll pull the marriage card and not even care and be all "but don't you want me to be happy?"  and then i'll also regret not putting house-related things in the marriage vows because he won't acquiese to my demands.

but in the meantime i have to pack.  and clean.  and obsess.  and stress myself out.

because obviously.

EVERYONE IS INVITED TO FIRST RAGING HOUSE PARTY.

byob though.  since soon we'll be supa, supa broke.

p.s. i also realize that the actual house buying (finding and buying) was relatively easy for us.  for all those that had to endure a probably more normal timeline of home buying - you are all angels and i don't know how you did it.

EXCITING THINGS

happy friday, skanks. current mood:

and my mood in relation to the title is simple.

i would describe it as cautiously excited.

because like three weeks ago the manager at the restaurant was all "i have a small proposal for you.  if i give you off on friday the 25th and saturday the 26th would you be able to cover a dinner shift on wednesday the 23rd?"  and i was like "DEAL."  and then thought to myself "homeboy really got the short end of that stick/he needs to work on his negotiation skills but whatever props to me."  and then i got even better news when shitler was like "FYI - pier out weekend is the 25th and 26th."  and then i was like "is this real life?  do i have an entire weekend off and shitler gone and out of my hair?"  so naturally i was fucking pumped.  but then also wary.  because so much can go wrong.  and by go wrong i mean me having to leave my couch.  but then i was like "you know what, shannon?  have you learned nothing from kim zolciak-biermann? ASK, BELIEVE, RECEIVE.

absolutely nothing will get in my way of couch laying, cross stitching, and binge watching shows."

and so with positive vibes put out into the universe i just needed to decide which show to binge watch.  sidenote - i've been keeping a list of which shows i need to start watching/finish watching and i haven't done anything but sometimes go look at the list and nod my head.  i know - very effective.

i figured that the easiest (and most fair) way of deciding on a show would be to pick the show out of a hat.

or in my case - my gym bag.  

i've put together a little how-to guide in case you're unfamiliar with the process.

step 1: write down all choices on scrap of paper.

step 2: put all scraps of paper in some sort of choosing device purgatory bag or hat.

step 3: use your hand and select a scrap of paper from the hat or bag of your choosing.

step 4: be unimpressed with the result.

step 5: keep picking because it's a fun game (and you're super lame) and then make a list of the results.

tudors it is.  and really i just have to finish it (since i made it through like the first three seasons but then got distracted by who knows what) and also because henry the 8th is like mega hot (the hollywood henry, not the historically accurate one) and really i can just drool all over his hotness all weekend without shitler ruining the fantasy for me.

so there's my weekend.  in all its incredibly lazy glory.

PRAISE BE.

have a great weekend.

nobody call me.

bruce {someplace in wisconsin}

so summer happened, hey? like we all blinked and then all the fucking sudden it was september (which i'm fine with because extreme heat and humidity in wisconsin does not a friend make).  and oddly enough - september is also almost over and i'm all "whaaaaat just happened?" and what's funny is that we did tons of fun crap all summer long and i literally have like kajillion pictures but i just never got around to sorting through any of them.  until now.  and now i remember why i didn't sort through any of them in the first place. because i'm now so overwhelmed that i just want to pretend they don't exist and lay on the couch and watch SYTYCD (so you think you can dance - for the noobs that don't know) instead. but  - the photos are oh so hilarious.
so i will batten down the hatches and be a grown up and try to follow through on this. there's a lot of things i have pictures of.  the 4th of july.  a street dance.  boating in two cities that start with a "w."  a fantasy draft.  camping.  and the first regular season packer game party (complete with pictures of an adorable baby).
first up. the bruce street dance (because i don't believe in chronological order).
truth bomb. shitler's real name isn't shitler.  and no - he's not of the madonna and prince caliber where he just goes with one a name moniker. i know - you're all shocked, aren't you?  his real name is tom.  tom lincoln to be specific (and yes exactly like in the movie the island where the guy screams "NO I'M TOM LINCOLN!).  
but anyway.  back to bruce.  as in a city in the wonderful state of wisconsin.  population 750 (approximately because i googled it and that's what was listed as of the last census) and location of the lincoln family yard burn and the bruce street dance.  this year shitler (tom lincoln) and i traveled to bruce for the street dance where the lincoln boys band plays every year.  it was hot, muggy, and just plain wonderful.  shitler happens to have a gigantic family; (and luckily they all love each other a lot and get along famously) so every get-together is basically just one gigantic shitshow - as evidenced in the photos below.

cousins sit on each other's laps, right?  

while partying in parking lots, right?

and sun their blindingly white thighs, right?

abs of f'ing steel on the left there.

grown up cousins hold hands, right?

shenanigans abounded.

with beer, of course.

and of course the band.

the lincoln boys band.

p.s. boys are weird; weird face-licking, nose-picking mother f'ing weirdos.

the one with all the pictures of dogs

what up, what up, what upppppp. so those blogloving contests are going on (or at least they were going on like last week sometime when i was attempting to read blogs). they're the ones where you vote about best whatever blog (basically all sorts of categories that yours truly would absolutely never qualify for).  but to be frank - i'm a little offended that i wasn't nominated for categories that should exist.  ones like "least consistent blogger" and "laziest blogger" because let's be honest - we all know that i'm the best at both of those.
but that's neither here nor there. remember like a month ago when i posted about shitler shooting me with an air soft gun? oh?  you don't?  ok - refresh your memory and go here.
caught up?  good. because the night wasn't a total wash. after i recovered from the excruciating pain (i'm totally over-exaggerating about the excruciating pain. like i definitely don't recommend anyone letting their spouse shoot them in the foot with an air soft gun but i obviously recovered from the trauma in a timely manner).  back to the night not being a total wash.
because we had a dog photo shoot!   like any two super cool, married people in their thirties do on a friday night!

^^ that's one type of dog. but let's get to the cute ones. here's mac thinking he's being shipped out all by his lonesome and losing his shit.

but don't worry.

we'll ship you both out.

i'm totally kidding (kind of).

they're cutest brothers in town and everyone should know it.

i bet you're noticing that things look a bit different around these parts. like different in that there's a new post but also that this delicious blog got a face lift. a face lift inspired by the glorious green bay packers (because it's mother f'ing football season). you need a blog design?   you go see my girl - NATALIE.  click here.

marriage advice

a few fridays ago i randomly had off from the restaurant. and it's super weird when that happens because i end up feeling like a normal person with a normal weekend.  but the feeling is so foreign (and few and far between) that i'm usually left perplexed and confused about what to do with a random night that doesn't involve work or something that's not already planned.  so when i got home and asked shitler what he wanted to do he replied with "wanna just get drunk or something?"  and i was like "that sounds nice; although pretty similar to what we normally do but ok it's friday and like 6PM so why not."  so we did.  and then shitler was like "i'm going to fuck around with my air soft gun."  and i was all "whatever; i don't even care."

and then shitler waxed on and on about what type of air soft gun it was.  but then it wouldn't work right.  and then he had to charge the batteries.

and then he had to remind me about how he bought it for like $10 on clearance at wal-mart.

and then it wasn't working right. so he re-loaded and practiced his aim.

and by this point in time i was at least four vodka presses in and beginning to get curious about air soft guns.  like mainly curious about how it would feel.  and shitler assured me that it didn't really hurt.  at least not that bad.  so shitler (a little too gleefully) suggested that he go like forty feet away and aim for my foot and then i would know what it felt like it.  so, like an idiot, i agreed.  and what's even more curious about the entire situation was that i was drunk enough to know that getting shot in the foot with an air soft gun was a bad idea but i was still drunk enough to know that i wanted to know what it felt like.

spoiler alert: it hurts like a bitch and will leave a giant, red welt on your foot.

and naturally i had over-served myself to the point where i couldn't figure out how to auto-focus and get a shot of the air soft gun induced welt so i don't even have anything to show for it.

which leads me to the point of this post: marriage advice.

DO get drunk with your spouse.
DO NOT let your spouse shoot you in the foot with an air soft gun.


p.s. shitler has incredible aim.  thank god.

the one where we went camping a month ago

oh hai there internet friends. it's me shannon; are you still there?
i really have to commend those that blog on a consistent basis (or let's be honest; even a semi-consistent basis) because i just don't know how they do it.  i have the means to blog consistently but lack the drive for any follow through.  because at the end of the day i'd rather plop my ass on the couch and sedate myself with reruns of trash television that i've already seen thirty-seven times than write blog posts.
but today i thought i would pull my head out of my ass and post about the time shitler and i went camping a month ago. so here we go.
we went someplace like 2 hours away.  for the life of me i can't remember what it was called but i do remember shitler telling me there were bluffs and we could hike.  but that never happened (obviously).
we bought a dutch oven but didn't even use it because PUDGY PIES. and naturally here's a picture of shitler enjoying a delicious breakfast burrito after i just mentioned pudgy pies. nothing in my life makes sense - i know.

and then naturally i took too many pictures of the muttz.

and then at one point shitler probably thought i was more nuts than usual because i came racing back from the bathroom to grab my camera and when he asked what i was doing i was all "taking pictures of a fairy's home!"  and he was like "what the fuck."  but i was obviously correct because HELLO LOOK AT THE FAIRY HOME BELOW.

and then we took the dogs to the beach.

where they were so handsomely adorable.

and then the muttz intently stared at shitler while he strolled up and down the beach by himself.

and then shitler did something he hasn't done in quite some time.

RUN.  baywatch style; down the beach.

and then naturally stopped to pose.  in the most tantalizing of ways. #thighsfordays

and then murphy lee got real pensive about the scenery.

and then turned around and couldn't contain his excitement about said scenery.

and then we left a day early because it wouldn't stop raining, and the dogs were soaking wet, and i was sick of having to sit at the picnic table underneath the canopy and stare at shitler while we did nothing.  and by nothing i mean i read my kindle and he bugged me to pay attention to him.

p.s. we also played beer bong.