What are you thinking of?

My heart was broken this morning.  I think I literally saw it fall out of my chest and saw the shards of ice bounce across the floor.  I'm going to tell you what set me over the edge.  {I'm blaming this on Ann Curry for no reason other than she drives me fucking insane.}  I'm sure you've heard by now:  Prince William is engaged.  I think his fiance's name is Kate?  But let's be honest.  I don't care.  All I know is that the home wrecker ruined any chance I had at marrying William.  I don't care that his teeth are gross nor do I care that he's balding.  He's a fucking prince.  Confession:  I don't care about him at all.  I just want a tiara for god's sake.  Looks like I've got to keep my eyes on Harry... does anyone know of a therapy that will make me more partial to the gingers?  I'll probably need some sort of electric shock therapy.

One more thing...

Another reason why I shouldn't go out of town any time soon:  bad things happen.  My best, Gracie, had to  drive HERSELF to the ER Sunday morning and ended up getting an appendectomy.  Now, I have no idea what an appendix is and I certainly have no fucking clue what it does but I have a feeling that they aren't important.  G is still in the hospital right now so I went to see her after work.  I hate hospitals.  But something that I love:  shower caps that have shampoo in them.  All you have to do is put it on and scrub for a minute or two and viola!  You're shit is less nasty.  I hope she gets out of there tomorrow because I don't want to get lost wandering the halls and looking into strangers rooms again.  Love you, G.  FEEL BETTER, NOW!

You win. You always do.

Hi-dy ho boys and girls.  I hope you all had a good weekend.  As I told you in my last post, I decided to take a little road trip up to Nashville this past weekend.  As per usual, the 615 and I went toe to toe.  I'm fairly certain that Nashville won but let's tally the score:

I arrived around 8ish Friday night.  {Side note:  day light savings time sucks balls.  Having to drive the entire trip in the dark was freaking Snooze-ville, USA.}  Taylor and I stopped at a McDonald's to wait for Nashville to come pick me up.  We go inside where I immediately notice the plethora of thugs and that all the tv's are speaking Spanish.  I can handle this.  I'm from Memphis.  I get cat-called whilst walking to the pisser and ogled the entire 20 minutes we are there.  Maybe they don't grow them like me off of exit 6.  One point to me.
615:  0  Shannon: 1
We decide to go to Losers - a fun little bar in the midtown area?  Let me tell you something, dear friends.  Nashville looooves it's mustaches.  My little heart skipped a beat with each passing fu manchu.  I had to pet on fella's mustache because it was so luscious.  {Yup.  I'm fully aware of how creepy this sounds.  And please believe me that it was 100% creepier than you think.}  Let's blame this move on the rumplemintz. Clearly the 615 takes the win here.
615: 1  Shannon: 1
We head to bar numero dos {Red Bar, I believe}.  Things were going fine.  I saw this one little nugget who was wearing the biggest, most ridiculously blinged out watch I'd ever seen in my life.  Of course I had to mock him.  Mocking lead to him spilling some lines about how he's Lebron James' PR guy.  Lies.  Anyway, 3 o'clock comes along and my new homegirl Jagoda and I realize that Nashville, our ride, has decided to flee the scene with a stranger nick-named Dave Mraz due to his uncanny resemblance to Dave Matthews and Mr. to the AZ.  Being the resourceful ladies that we are, Jagoda and I start looking around for landmarks and realize that we are by a SPACESHIP.  Nashville finally comes to our rescue - probably because she found the spaceship - and we make it home.  The city takes another win with this one.  The architectural beauty may be the only reason Jagoda and I did not wind up on the back of a milk carton or on Dateline.

So maybe it doesn't look like a spaceship...

615: 2  Shannon: 1

In my hurry to find my pj's and make my way to bed I had a run in with the door.  Actually, my foot had a run in with the door.  The door won.  My toe?  Well, it's now broken.  This calls for 1 point to the 615 and - 1 point for me.

615:  3  Shannon: 0

Saturday:  I drank too much rumple, fancy that, and spent the majority of the day watching Harry Potter.  Before round 2 I had to go get some flats {though they are cute, I loathe them.  Flats are not my friend}. My body is not physically prepared for another night on the town - especially since Nashville had to make jello shots and got moonshine for the birthday party we were supposed to attend.  I put my party panties on and went along for the ride.  Looking back, I should have stayed home.

Jello shots, moonshine and fireball were a-flowing at the party.  We head downtown {jello and fireball in purses, of course}.  Before we go into Miss Kelly's the bouncer makes me show him the contents of my purse.  The Meathead finds not one, not two - not even three or four but NINE jello shots in my purse.  Naturally I step outside and throw them to anyone that looks like someone I know.  Meathead is not pleased.  He shames the shiiiiiit out of me but I dance my way back to the bar.  I'm giving myself one point for my ability to share and the city gets one for le shame.
615: 4  Shannon: 1


Things start to get a little fuzzy.  Here's what I know:  rumplemintz, whiskey, jello, water {see, I'm responsible}, dancing, schooling some silly boys in the ghetto ways of Coolio, strip club {no need for extra shame here... I got this}, penis tattoo {real life}, closing time?, SEVENTY FIVE DOLLAR cab ride home, getting lost in the apartment complex, sleep?  If I added this correctly that's 8 for the 615 and 2 for me.  I'm taking one of my points away for going to a strip club.  That's fucking gross.
615: 12  Shannon:2


Did I mention that I left my phone in the cab?  Or that someone stepped on my broken toe and I wanted to punch them in the genitals and projectile vomit in their face all at the same time?  Yup.  Sunday morning was rough.  REAL rough.  I had to find Nashville to use her phone because I didn't know what time my ride was coming through.  I don't know my ride's number.  Enter panic attack.  Through some handy facebooking I found my ride's number but his phone was dead.  Seriously - PANIC attack.  I was positive that I was going to have to take a greyhound home and that I was going to be forced to sit next to a crackhead whose hygiene is sub par.  They'd probably be eating curry.  Or squirrel.  Maybe possum.  Cut to 6 hours after my first attempt to get in touch with my ride.  We finally leave the city limits around 6 and make it to Memphis after what feels like an eternity.  Cashville
615:  32  Shannon:  7

I went and got my new phone today and talked to man out of making me pay for my $120 new contract fee.  How?  I borrowed crutches and gimped in there and made him feel so badly about my weekend that he would do anything to make me happy.  $150 later I have a new phone, all my contacts and a little pep in my walk... er... limp?  That's 120 to me 150 to them.
615:  182  Shannon:  127


There are a few other stories that I won't mention.  I'd like to keep what little dignity I have left over.  I say I put up a pretty solid fight.  See you next time, Nashville... keep it classy.

Captain Ron IS America.

HAPPY ALMOST FRIDAY!

Also, happy veterans day.  I'm so proud to be an American it's almost disgusting.  I'd wear a red, white and blue fanny pack with an American eagle perched on the shoulder of my American flag black t-shirt on top of my camo pants if I had them.  Unfortunately, I don't have any of these items.  {Note to self: invest in these gems before the 4th of July.}

I wish I could tell you that I've done something productive with my day off but I have the attention span of a small child.  Or a fly.  Take your pick.  I went and had a delicious lunch at Holiday Ham with my wonderful mother.  I then came home and pretended to clean.  Pretending to clean takes a lot out of a person.  I had to try to fix my speakers so I could have a dance/clean party but it seems they are to be added to my fallen soldier list from last weekend.  Gracie came over with the two little girls she picks up from school and I got to play "Try to get me" / tag with one of my favorite kids ever - Gracie and I have given her the nickname of Poofer Fries McNugget.  She doesn't like it but she also doesn't have a choice.  Poofer can count to ten in Russian.  I know, impressive.  I struggle with counting in English.

I finally found my camera chord.  It was in my overnight bag.  Proof positive that I need to get out of town more often.  Anyway, here are the pictures I have promised you.

My yummy brunch for my family

Mom made me take the spatula off for a legit pic

Aren't they just the cutest things you ever did see?

I may know how to cook but jello shots are my specialty

Proof jello shots are my thing

I don't know if you can see this BUT she's wearing a mustache.

I'm so excited that it's almost the weekend I can hardly stand it.  I've decided to make a trip up to my second favorite city in the grand ol' state of Tennessee: Nashville.  I made this decision yesterday... so clearly it's been planned for quite some time.  I am in desperate need of a getaway.  I'm going to be staying with Nashville and only horrible awesome things can happen.  Or so I thought before she informed me that jello shots were going to be involved.  It may be about two or three weeks too soon alas, these are the struggles I must endure.

I have something to share with you.  I have, apparently, acquired a boyfriend - completely unbeknownst to me.  I know you must be thinking, "Wow, Shannon has mad game!"  And you - dear readers - are sadly mistaken.  My new boyfriend is Captain Ron.  Would you like to know some more about this elusive one eyed character?  I thought so...

The Down-low on Captain Ron

• His birth name is Michael.  Crazy talk, I tell you.  He is a Ron if I've ever met one.  {He will heretofore be referred to as "Boyfriend" because my neighbors are assholes.}
• Boyfriend will let you me call him "girl" or "girlfriend" without even blinking an eye.  It's like he was born for these absurd terms.
• Boyfriend loves to try to pawn off stray dogs on you.  He will even try to bring them in your house - even after you ask him not to.
• Boyfriend likes to speak in pirate voice.  This is quite fitting since he wears an eye patch, don't ya think?
• Boyfriend has been through quite a bit in his life.  He will tell you all about these stories except for the ONE story everyone needs to know about.
• Boyfriend will not talk about why he wears an eye patch.  This.  Is.  Devestating.
• Boyfriend's job status is unknown.
• While Boyfriend's job status is unknown, he is willing to make you ham.  Proof:

I don't know what he's talking about with the Swine Island Dance Hall but something tells me this love bucket is not playing with a full team upstairs.

I hope all of you have a b-e-a-uuuu-tiful weekend.  I'ma let Lee Greenwood take it home.  America, fuck yeah.

30 Day Challenge: The Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeend

Day 30:  A picture

I'm posting this picture for two reasons:

1.  This godforesaken blog challenge is over.  I got really bored with it, obviously.  Note to self:  next time, read the questions BEFORE you start the challenge.  Hopefully I will remember... not that I plan on doing this for a really long time.

2.  George W's book came out today.  I want - no, need - to read it.  I have got to read this book for several reasons.  Politics aside, I find this big dumb animal kind of endearing.  I will mock him until the end of time for it but I kind of enjoy that he makes up words.  Anyway, if anyone reads this gem let me know - I would like to know what I'm getting myself into before hand.

This should explain a lot.

I'm too old for this shit

I have lots to tell you, lovers.  Most of what needs to be told to you also needs to be told to me because, well, someone had too much fun this weekend {hint: it's me}.  Those stories will have to wait until Nashville and Tampa finally decide to post their pictures.  Here's what I know:

Friday:  Nashville was kind enough a complete bitch and brought my new kryptonite: moon shine.  Not just any moon shine.  Apple pie moon shine. Whoever invented this needs to gold medal for life.  And then needs a swift kick to the balls.  It was the best thing I've ever tasted and it kicked my ass.  It kicked it bad.  Steve Prefontaine brought over some rum.  Fer brought some vodka.  We drank far too much before we even left the house.  We went to my favorite bar - which just happens to be within walking distance - and I'm banning myself from there for at least one week {you'll find out why in a second}.  We caught the tail end of the Grizzlies game and I made a wager with Mr. Prefontaine.  If the Griz pull out a win, I'll buy you a car bomb.  If the Grizzlies lose, I'll buy you a car bomb.  Yup.  I'm a fucking idiot genius.  Griz lost.  Car bomb mania began.  THEN it happened.  I may or may not have told someone {that doesn't know me well enough to find that charming, cute, or funny - not that it IS any of those things} that I want their p in my v.  Adios dignity.  In those exact words?  Haaawwwwwwhat?  Who in the fuck does that?  Someone who's had far too many jello shots and Irish Car Bombs, too much moonshine and, the icing on the cake - rumplemintz.  I sold my most prized possession for $20 and a shot of rumple.  I miss my mustache necklace already.

Friday recap:  down one mustache necklace, one busted knee, lost at least one card, dignity out the window... or down the pisser - whichever the case may be.

Saturday: I told people to come over around noon.  I woke up in a timely fashion. At 11:45.  Cute.  I'm still in my towel when my first friend arrives.  I'm still hammered from Friday.  I have no idea what's going on.  I took a nap.  In my front yard.  On my porch.  In my house.  Captain Ron came over.  Uninvited.  Gave his business cards to all of my friends.  Tried to talk to me at the edge of my bed while I was napping.  My friend from work came over with his friends.  {Side bar:  The last time Taylor came over with his friends was during my housewarming party.  I was swimming on the floor when he got here.  I don't know why he came back for more embarrassment.}  I told one them he had a pretty face.  {In my defense, he totally did.  And he speaks French.  And he cooks.}  I also told him I want to lick his teeth.  Sometimes I really fucking creep myself out.  Sometimes = all the time.  We all went to the Blue Monkey.  There Nashville fell in love with a stranger named Evil Keith.  Real life.  I know, I'm confused too.

Recap: I'm the biggest creep in the world, my friends fall in love easily, Taylor should never hang out with me again, Captain Ron is the second biggest creep in the world

Sunday.  Moral hangover like whoa.  Waking up in my apartment that smelled a lot like bad decisions {aka stale beer and cigarette smoke} was pretty much the only good decision I made this weekend.  Next time I throw out the idea of jello shots, tell me no.  I won't listen to you.  But at least you will have tried.

 I need to tell you that before this weekend I missed college.  I missed the lack of responsibility.  I missed the bad decisions.  I missed everything.  Now?  All I have to say is I'm way too old for this shit.  Way too fucking old.

Today was rough.  I'm pretty sure my kidneys are failing and my liver is on it's last leg.  My brain has officially turned to mush.  I realized I lost my debit card, again.  I lost my flex spending card {still not sure how that happened}.  I didn't lose my id {whoop, whoop} and I somehow gained the respect of one of my neighbors and some anti-burn cream.  That's all I have for now.  I'll be a grown up one day.  I promise. I also promise it won't be anytime soon.  But one day.

In other news, this girl I work with told me she had a dream I was pregnant.  I hope she doesn't predict the future otherwise I need to take up extreme sports.