This is How We Roll

Wheelin'

Rollin’ around.

While visiting Iowa last week, I resided with my Gma in her studio apartment at a retirement home.

Gma

My roommie.

I not only found myself without Internet access along with shitty phone service and an overabundance of daytime TV, I also found myself without a vehicle among miles and miles of cornfields.

Among the cornfields.

Nope, still not heaven. Just Iowa.

Although we love one another, being cooped up in 400 square feet with someone for days can lead one to be a tad irritated edgy claustrophobic.

We decided that venturing a few blocks to the town square shouldn’t be too big of a feat. And while Gma is perfectly capable of walking, traipsing up and down streets isn’t her strong suit at 91, so we borrowed a vehicle from her buddy.

Wheels

Motorized by CBXB.

We were a traffic stopping duo, as cars had to wait for minutes while I popped wheelies to get Gma up and over a curb to the restaurant where we intended to be ladies who lunch.

Selfie!

Selfies cause gridlock when you take them in the middle of the road.

Streets

Bricks aren’t kind to wheelchairs. Or their drivers.     Photo – Wikipedia

After scooping the loop down Main Street a time or two, Gma announced that she was thirsty and I kicked into a gear so high I think I left a trail of smoke knowing a cold bottle of wine awaited our arrival.

Cheese!

Happy hour awaits!

We decided it was best to sit out on the porch and watch everyone else (while we also talked about them) drive by in actual vehicles as we sipped (well, she swigged, I gulped) our evening vino.

Cheers!

Busy bodies on a balcony deck.

Who needs a rental car when you can wheel it around town?

That’s just how we roll.

CBXB

CBXB!

CBXB Invasion

Corn fed, Hawkeye bred!

Corn fed, Hawkeye bred!

While in eastern Iowa for a long Labor Day stay, I ended up staying through the rest of the week for a little family bonding, starting with the twins.

Twosome

Three is not a crowd with this crew.

Being these tykes are now 19 months old and actual mini people, they often seem like Tasmanian devils.

Which is why I had grubby little handprints all over my clothes.

No clean clothes.

Subtle reminder of my fave people.

I was able to see Prince B get his teeth cleaned, which started off as traumatic but ended in bliss when he realized there was a TV on the ceiling.

Teeth clean

Cartoons and clean chompers.

With my mad camera skills, I took 1,762,364 selfies with each twin, producing just one non-blurry photo of me and Princess B.

Endless selfies. Again? Again with the camera Auntie CBXB?

Again? Again with the camera Auntie CBXB?

I cheated on Ted with my dogphew, Gunner by rolling around in the sack endlessly with him night after night.

Cheating.

Sleeping double in a single bed.

My unfaithfulness continued with goodbye kisses for my furry family member…

Kisses to make the world go round

I kissed a dog and I liked it.

….and my little humans, too.

Good bye kisses and feminine product education

A goodbye smooch and feminine product education all at the same time. I’m a multi-tasking aunt.

It was then time to head west to the town where John Wayne was born and The Bridges of Madison County was filmed (that’s right – I walked the same streets as Meryl Streep) to see my Gma.

Jell-O shootin' granny

Jell-O shootin’ granny with her Jell-O shootin’ offspring.

It was a good thing I travel with booze, as I was staying with Gma in her retirement home.

With no WiFi.

And spotty cell service.

And no car.

No wifi and limited cell service at Gmas meant plenty of wine time for me.

Coping with my surroundings.

But we passed the time with news programs, drinks, news programs, pedicures and news programs.

Isn't this the life?

Isn’t this the life?

In between being a manicurist and wino, I got to see Aunt Crazy Pants for an afternoon and a ride to the gigantic Des Moines airport.

Crazy Pants

Crazy and Crazier.

And there is nothing more fun than getting to spend six unexpected hours at an airline gate while trying to get my ass back to Nashville.

Looooong delays at airports.

GET ME HOME TO MY PUSSIES!

Naturally, I was nothing but ignored by my two felines upon my arrival back to our mini manse.

You're home. Now choose.

You cheated with an actual dog. We hate you.

I’m definitely in vacation withdrawal as on the first day back to work I forgot my laptop at home, lunch consisted of 10 day old pizza out of the communal fridge and I kept calling a buddy Ted…when his name is Chris.

Means this may or may not be in my cup today at work.

Definitely what my co-workers think of me and my coffee mug.

Here’s hoping that you’re brighter eyed and more bushy-tailed than I this week, friends.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

How to be an Unruly Fan

The most

Did I do that?

When attending a sporting event of any kind, I can’t help but really get into the spirit of the event. This past Saturday, I was gussied up in my finest Hawkeye threads….

All dressed up...

Yep. Ready for the game.

I had a hot date with my college roommie….

Let's do this.

Let’s do this.

We pre-partied with the best of them in parking lot tailgates…

with somewhere to go...

We’re in there somewhere.

We may or may not have contributed to this mess…

Been here, done that.

Been here, done that.

And when we entered Kinnick stadium, we might have thought the crowd was cheering our arrival.

Rush of the roaring crowd...

Rush of the roaring crowd.

Our high was quickly sucked away by the Debbie Downer (and fan of the opposing team) sitting to my left in the straw hat. Yes, the one who was approximately 102 years old.

And then this...

Fun hater to my left.

You see, Whitney Lover and I were simply happy to be together. In our old college stadium. With 70,000 of our closest friends.

And we are not the most soft-spoken ladies. Nor are we the classiest ladies. Nor are we any kind of boring.

So we cheered. We hooped. We hollered. We would have done toe touches if we were still limber enough if there had been enough room.

We were so happy we felt the need to document every other second.

Hi. We're here together and I have 4.2 million photos to prove it.

Hi. We’re here together and I have 4.2 million photos to prove it.

Scoreboard

Have you seen the working scoreboard?

Band time...

Did you know we witnessed the marching band?

While over enjoying the atmosphere,  I overheard the 102 year old tell her hubs that she was “appalled” (yes, she said appalled and yes, I was keeping my hands to myself AND I hadn’t even been using my favorite f word, as the Hawks were winning) by our loud, obnoxious behavior (and most likely the pink streaks in my hair).

So when she squeezed her ears shut as the fans around her cheered for an Iowa touchdown…I may or may not have been inches closer to her ear than necessary.

Inappropriate, loud behavior.

Hearing aid not needed.

And then I scooched a little closer to my new bestie for the second half of the game…

Oops.

Oops.

Just to make her day a little more fun.

And unruly.

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Tailgates, Twins and Louis Vuitton

Hawkeye

Still Hawkeyes at heart.

A three day holiday weekend meant it was time to high tail it up to Iowa in order to see the twins, catch a little college football and finish up a birthday celebration.

These two.

Princess and Prince B awaiting my appearance.

Being that we arrived in the wee hours of Saturday morning, 8am tailgating time came a tad early for me. But I was able to rally with a glass of vodka mixed with everyone’s favorite…Capri Sun.

Kid concoction

Can you tell my friends have kids?

Excited to be in Iowa City for the first game of football season, I met up with my college bestie, Whitney Lover  (who has a once-was-white-but-now-it’s-yellow-because-it’s-so-old Whitney Houston t-shirt from the “Greatest Love of All” days that she still sports) and couldn’t wait to get my hands on her little Lady E.

Saturday morning greeting.

One of us is bright eyed and bushy tailed.

Then we headed to see the action at the tailgates with 70,000 of our closest buddies.

Tailgate

Truth.

When it comes to Whitney Lover and myself, we do nothing but up the ante of classiness wherever we go.

Uping the class ante wherever we go.

Classing up the joint with our plastic grocery bag cooler.

Feed me.

Classing it up with food choices…a foot long corn dog and ribeye on a stick.

Nuttious treats.

As well as keeping it nutricious with our classy game day picnic spread.

Watching our Iowa Hawkeyes take in a big W was a fabulous way to kick-off the football season.

But want to know what was more fabulous?

Seeing my boyfriend, Herky the Hawk roaming the streets as I stalked followed him to beg, plead ask for a photo together.  He kindly obliged my request by driving as fast as he could down the street as I tried to throw myself in front of his golf cart.

Herky!

Pretty sure Herky’s  checking my ass out, right? True love.

Naturally a victorious football team AND running into my mascot boy toy called for celebratory bubbles.

Victories taste so good.

Victories taste so good.

The rest of the weekend required partying for my ma’s birthday, as the twins couldn’t be in Nashville on her actual big day. Being that this was a milestone, we brought out the big guns with friends and family joining in on one mother of a gift.

Ooh, really?

Yep. It’s really what the box says it is.

A Louis Vuitton will now be housed among my mama’s other accessories.

Still celerbating that bday

A gift worth celebrating!

And mom had a wee bit of trouble taking her new bag back to Nashville, as Princess B wasn’t about it let it out of her sight.

Yep. She's for sure my niece.

Yep. She’s for sure my niece.

Capping the holiday weekend out with one last cocktail took all of these ingredients…

Adios.

An Adios Motherfucker is an appropriate way to wave goodbye to summer, yes?

Cheers!

We sure thought so.

Adios!

CBXB

CBXB!

Game Day Gussy Up

Is it possible to look fabulous during football season while waving a foam finger in the air?

Foam finger fail.

Fail at fabulousness.

Ever since I was a kid, wearing college colors for game day has been tradition.

Sporting my dad's college jersey. Yes. He was a football playing stud who also was a cheerleader.

Sporting my dad’s college jersey. Yes, he was a football playing stud who also was a cheerleader. Yes, he will sign an autograph for you.

Now that I’m an Iowa Hawkeye girl (that’s Big Ten Country for you non-sports folks – or anyone that has ever misidentified Iowa as the Potato State, addressed my beloved team as the Iowa Buckeyes or thought Kevin Costner lived there in a magic corn field of dreams) in a Nashville world, I always support my college alma mater while cheering hundreds of miles away.

Wearing my pride on my…

Skirts...

…skirt…

...sequins...

…sequins…

...and sweater.

…and sweater.

But why stop at typical fan wear that anyone can sport? If you’re really a team supporter you’ll be sure to accessorize your head to toe outfit.

Whole lotta Hawk.

With flags.

With rings.

With rings.

Gaudy earrings

With gaudy football earrings.

And let’s not forget the importance of matching our cocktails to our team of choice.

And

Appropriately holds one bottle of wine.

We live, breathe and sleep by our black and gold when it comes to college football season.

Taking it to the limits

Taking true fandom  fabulousness to the limits.

Not wanting anyone to feel left out, the twins are even adorned with adorable Hawkeye gear.

Miniature Herkys.

It’s all fun and football games with Prince B and Princess B.

Being a lady (I use that term loosely) that takes any chance to celebrate, today I’m all gussied up in my finest black and gold threads in honor of College Colors Day (it’s seriously a day supported by The Collegiate Licensing Company).

No, we're not Southern Missisippi.

A gal in need of a Hawkeye throne.

And I wouldn’t be true to myself if I didn’t dress my nails up with matching gaudy polish.

Manicured

Team colored talons.

As for a foam finger, I’ve made a minor substitution in order to keep my family’s moonshine touchdown tradition alive this season.

The end all, be all importance of game day.

Moonshine shots with every seven points scored.

Shots with every seven points scored.

Who needs a foam finger with Hawkeye moonshine?

Now go get your game day gussy up on!

CBXB

CBXB!

Pigskin Sushi

Trashy tailgating treat at its finest.

Trashy tailgating treat at its finest.

There’s nothing my family does better than snack and celebrate, so with the college football season kick-off this weekend, we already have our game faces on with what appetizers to draft for our game day spread. And there’s no fumbling when it comes to making one of our finest treats, Pigskin Sushi.

Cheers to football season finally being here!

A big moonshine cheers to football season finally being here!

This non-threatening Midwestern version of sushi is a crowd pleasing hit at any tailgate whether you’re cheering for your fave college team….

On Iowa!

Yes, the Big Ten is a conference in college football.

…or you’re trying to impress fellow NFL fans.

Titan Up!

And yes, the Tennessee Titans still have fans even after dismal seasons.

This is my trashy version of sushi that requires three ingredients, five minutes of prep and dirties no dishes (perfect for kitchen lovers like me).

Ingredients:

Ingredients

Baby dill pickles, one block of cream cheese and thick-sliced, cooked ham. Total cost – $7.00.

Remove one piece of the cooked ham and place on a paper towel.

Spread room temperature cream cheese over the ham.

Rollin'

Place dill pickle at one end of the ham and roll up.

Slice

Slice the pickle-in-a-blanket to your desired size.

Trashy tailgating treat at its finest.

And voila! White trash sushi.

This low carb, gluten-free delicatessen will stand out among the typical tailgating treats.

hit it

A bright beacon of shining food among traditional football snacks.

And not only is Pigskin Sushi cheap and easy (no I’m not referring to myself), it washes down with any cocktail you choose on game day.

Skinny Pirates for the Hawkeye.

Skinny Pirates for this Hawkeye.

In my book, that’s a touchdown!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Singing in the Rain

Band rehearsal, football, cocktails and pool time are the perfect combo to a relaxing Nashville weekend.

Titan Up

Titan Up!

Friday night rehearsal for No Name Band (nope…still no name) went smashingly once I arrived. (Master of directions I am not. So after two hours in a car, feeling like I was in BFE, this classy chick had to pull over and take a leak, as there were no buildings with running water in sight. But I finally found my mates – with an empty bladder).

Cocktails, of course.

Cocktails for the directionally challenged, please.

Sing!

The worst band selfie ever.

Saturday was meant to be spent at the pool but a rainstorm thwarted my attempts. Instead, we sat out on the balcony as the thunder rolled and while you all think Ted is a big, fat, high maintenance bitch (which, let’s be honest – he is) this little fur ball is not afraid of sounds from the sky.

What the who?

What the what? Who cares. Pet me.

But New Cat on the other hand thinks the storm is coming just for him and if he isn’t underneath the bed, he is up under my chinny chin chin.

New Cat Thunderstruck

Thunderstruck pussy.

After watching my Tennessee Titans score a win (I know, I know it’s just pre-season but still), this hot pink mess greeted my arrival home from the bar.

Feather football.

Feather football played by one.

Speaking of non-traditional football, my always snazzy friend L-Dawg found these heels of her fave college team. While I am not a person who will ever chant SEC!-SEC!-SEC! these heels are a must have.  Although I can’t find any bedazzled Iowa Hawkeye heels online. Guess it will be my next ultra classy DIY project.

Football FMP

So appropriate for galloping around a stadium.

Sunday sunny Sunday was complete with a cool pool, cocktails, catching up on reading and naps (you know, 20 minutes every hour).

Sunny Sunday!

Summer fun wind down.

And as I was basking in the sun, the Iowa twins were busy kicking up a storm when they heard Auntie CBXB will be in town to see them next weekend.

perfect 10

Prince B, reminding me he’s a perfect ten.

And she knows it.

And Princess B knowing she’s a perfect ten.

Now all I have to do is decide which size of hot dog to bring to the Iowa tailgate….

Six or eight inch??

Six or eight inches?

Cheers to a fabulous week!

CBXB

CBXB!