To the man who calls me shitbird

There's only one person in my life that calls me shitbird (to my face at least), and it's that person's birthday today!!!

If you're wondering why this person calls me shitbird, it may be because of the fact that he had to deal with 16-year-old Shayli (the worst) and take my phone all the time and stand in the front window in his garments and wait for me to come home waaaaaaayyyy past curfew. Or maybe it's because I stole his BYU chocolate truffles all the time? Or because I always called him with favors? Okay, those last two things don't apply to just 16-year-old Shayli, but you get the idea. Lots of reasons why I could be considered the shitbird in this person's eyes!

And if you can't tell already, this "person" is my dad!

The only reason we are smiling in this photo is because we just got done saying, "SHEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIITTTTT" 

Some people might think it's weird that my dad (fajia as I like to call him) calls me shitbird, but it's actually a term of endearment. At least I think it is.... dad????! Anyway, anyone who knows him, knows he's not really what you would call "a hugger" if you know what I'm saying. So calling me shitbird and giving me a little punch to the arm to let me know he's proud of me is actually pretty normal. Ha!

Anyway, HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the man who calls me shitbird! Who also happens to be  the same man that eats Cheetos with a fork + wears a jumpsuit to mow the lawn in that says "Shayli's Dad" on the back + collects opal turtles + quotes Seinfeld + orders salads at Texas Roadhouse. Most importantly, Happy Birthday to the man who has shown me what an amazing husband and dad is supposed to be like. You are truly one of a kind! There's no one else I'd rather have call me shitbird than you.

"Proud of you!" *punches arm*

Love,
SB