Perfect Partners in Pumpkin Crime

Growing up (and still today for yours truly), Halloween was the kick-off to a long-awaited holiday season.

I'll cut a bitch

Even at the tender age of 3, I’d cut a bitch.

With an assist from my dad.

Letting Dad do all of the carving work because even way back when my nails were “jewels, not tools”.  And how ’bout the back of the pumpkin matching our beautiful carpet?

In small Iowa town where I grew up, we had costume parties at school and church (when you used to be able to call it a Halloween party complete with witches and bats, instead of a bland Fall Festival with scarecrows and hay bales – why were party poopers invented? Why?), parades to prance proudly down our eight block Main Street (where every single one of the 1,200 citizens seemed to show up) and so much trick-or-treating mania, I’d have to come home halfway through the evening just to dump my candy (hiding it all from my dad in the dryer or it’d be gone by morning) because my pumpkin got so overloaded, it was too heavy for me to carry.

hall

What better way to celebrate Halloween than to dress up as Cookie Monster and pedal your best lookin’ stuffed animals on a parade through town? Forget my adorableness for one second – what about the clown behind #165?

ped

Spectator sport for the entire town (there’s still time for you to go this year). And let’s discuss my mom’s creativity with the cookie wheels… genius!

But in my younger years, I carried the burden of celebrating Halloween by myself and being a lone Cookie Monster got frustrating.

Ho Hum

Lone monster.

Begging my parents to procreate, I was presented with my sister who was immediately awarded with side kickin’ it as my lifetime partner-in-crime (lucky her). If I was going to be dressing up (oftentimes making an ass out of myself in later years) she was going to be doing it too, by God (town parades included).

In the beginning of our twosome, we were all about cutesy costumes.

Sugar'n' Spice

The rock star and Raggedy Ann. A little sugar for my spice.

And the ‘cute’ theme seemed to carry on in our early years. Except for the tilt in our heads. And the fog in the background…

Creepy Hollow

Cute masked crusaders in Creepy Hollow.

As we got a little older, I wanted a little edge (well as much edge as an elementary kid and toddler could muster) to our giddy ups. I let my young inner badass out, as my sister scared the pants off no one.

very busy

That’s right. I was hardcore even in elementary school. My Fisher Price mobile cassette player really upped my ante of rockstardom.

We slid slightly into the creepy department as my sister joined me in grade school.

Scardey Crow

Scaredy crow and premature mini old man. Almost spine-chilling. Almost.

Then I graduated to truly frightening and fearful territory as I crept toward junior high.  Pebbles looks less than horrified as I try my best scare tactic on her.

Pebs

I’m also starting to wonder if there was any other color of hair paint than green, since that tends to be a trend here.

When we thought we were oh so grown up, our costumes reflected our mature attitudes.

Lady and the Tramp.

Lady and the Tramp. Or Princess and Sock Hop Girl…however you want to look at it.

But we were reminded in following years just how far from adults we were…especially yours truly. A recycled mask and costume from a previous Halloween hid my “I’m way too old for this shit” attitude toward trick-or-treating when I was forced to go with my younger sister.

Barley a Boo

I can’t tell who’s more excited – the monster or the witch.

And being older we’re not so much cute, cuddly or even scary creatures…we’re just mostly cocktailed.

bl

The odd couple. Pocahontas and Kid Rock.

Now that we’re miles apart during the costuming time of year, it’s fun to look back at our sisterly ghosts of Halloween’s past. But what’s even more fun is seeing her twin goblins growing to love the holidays as much as she and I did as kids.

As

Permanent partners-in-crime scary season #1.

I can’t wait to see what the little monsters will be for their second Halloween.

Goblins

Scary season round #2.

As we’re on the eve of Halloween, you should take a look at the old skeletons in your closet.

You aren’t a fraidy cat, are you?

CBXB

CBXB!

National Teddy B…er, I Mean Cat Day

It’s National Cat Day folks.

This is the biggest holiday of my year (don’t judge) as most of you know just how cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs I am about my pussy, Teddy B.  He’s the yin to my yang. The side to my kick. The “me” to my “ow”.   So in a dire attempt to make my furball love me all the more, I present you with an ode to the best bear on the planet…

Ahem.

Oh Ted you bring so much joy and good cheer,

Even when your piercing looks could kill.

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Always a sport when I dress you up,

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You never lose your cool when the costume fucks up.

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Cinco de Teddy was a highlight last year and

while I was sure we had matching sombreros,

Image 2

I’m pretty sure you were trying to figure out

how to pierce my heart with an arrow.

Image 1

Bunny ears aren’t your favorite as you made very clear,

Image

So I made you a pirate, in which (I kinda think) you revered.

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Today is your day and in honor of you,

I will break out my finest kit cat attire.

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I’ll be sure to slip on your favorite tie  -

before you try to murder me by hire.

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The night will be yours to do as you please.

Whether it includes Skinny Pirates, shots of Jell-O,

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or your favorite vino to help you chill and be mellow.

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 Never once this year did you act blue

when we rescued New Cat

New Cat

and he permanently joined our crew.

Kitty Love

Celebrate you we will with all kinds of fun,

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As my Earth tends to revolve around your sun.

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Happy Teddy Bear Cat Day to all of our furiends!

CBXB

CBXB!

How to Turn Your Dad Into Pamela Anderson

This post is a ghost from a Halloween past…but couldn’t resist sharing again this season.

Kissy Face

A few years ago I was dying to dress up as Kid Rock and needed a trashy Pamela Anderson to hang all over me.  Because my dad is no stranger to the spotlight (and always my hero) he leapt at the chance.

But how in the hell do you transform a 6’4″ man into a petite (OK not happening….ever), blond, big busted bombshell?

You start feet first by carefully applying polish to gigantic toes.

Heavy duty gloves for a hazardous job as my dad has a green toe I lovingly refer to as Foot Fungus.

Hoping the thick ass gloves prevent the Foot Fungus from jumping to my body.

Top off the precious pedicure with an orange bow (to make those feet look a teeny tiny bit more feminine and festive).

The bow helps….kinda.

Next, a base for the famous face must be applied as the transformation continues (the application of foundation “hurt his face,” according to this cross dresser).

Suffering to be beautiful has never been this man’s motto.

Also be sure manly Pam has brushed his teeth this century before getting too close.

Be sure your Pam has brushed her teeth this century.

I learned the hard way and had no breath mint.

The trickiest and final step is squeezing Pamela into her costume because we created her famous rack by stuffing as much quilt batting as possible into nylons.

Squeeeeeze

Even the largest bra found at Wal-Mart had velcro extenders added in order to get the damn thing to clasp shut.

Dying a men’s tank top red (and almost ruining a washer in the process) we applied masking tape to create the Lifeguard logo. I scored the checkered shorts in the very big ladies section at Wal-Mart (go figure), topping man Pam off with a blond wig.

Prettiest Man Pam ever. Right?

But by God, she ended up looking like a fabulous Baywatch knock-off and now all Pamela needed was her handsome rock star flavor, Kid Rock.

This union totally lasted… a whole six months.

Our band of misfits were all gussied up, ready to fill our party drinking cups.

Playmate Crazy Pants, Hugh Hefner, Playmate Mama, Pam Man and yours truly.

Playmate Crazy Pants, Hugh Hefner, Playmate Mama, Pam Man and yours truly.

With the complete transformation in place, Pammy was (happily, excitedly, thrilled to be) the center of attention. She tended to overshadow even the most glamorous celebrities at the party.

Marilyn Monroe couldn't help but manhandle Pam's assets.

Marilyn Monroe couldn’t help but manhandle Pam’s assets.

Where's Cher?

Where’s Cher?

Everyone was completely obsessed with Pam’s chest –  even men that view breasts as their day job.

Hugh

Hugh Hefner couldn’t believe his old man eyes.

Even

This dude who knew this Pam was a dude couldn’t help but motorboat.

But even the ladies couldn’t resist a round with Pamela’s chest.

But they do make for a nice place to rest your head.

Lifeguard flotation devices also doubling as head rests.

Although this real life odd couple went on to hit the skids, Kid and Pam were able to let bygones be bygones this particular Halloween.

kissy

Is my dad fun or what?

And while this may not be the Pamela Anderson of everyone’s dreams, she’s awfully pretty to me.

Pam Man is the fairest in this Nashville land.

And that my friends is how you transform your studly, ex-NFL playing father into a sex pot.

But let’s not forget, beauty is in the eye of the beholder…

CBXB

CBXB!

Fangtastic Fingers

I vant to suck your blood. Well, really I don't because it might ruin my nails.

I vant to suck your blood.
Well, really I don’t because it might ruin my nails.

Known for being anything but subtle, I choose coordinating holiday colors for my Hallowmani.

Forget the ghosts.

Who doesn’t match their mani to their decor?

After applying a base coat, I doubled up on Sally Hansen’s pumpkin hued polish in Crushed. Letting that dry a few minutes, I followed with a swipe of Orly’s GOTH on the tips of my talons and with a slightly steady hand (I like to have two glasses of wine before attempting this step) I glided Salon Perfect nail art in Silver Plated between the black and orange colors.

No matter what mani I’ve just completed, I always use Seche Vite Dry Fast topcoat. Always.

Terrifying trio.

Terrifying trio.

Curiosity almost killed New Cat (by yours truly), as he risked one of his nine lives to photo bomb my set-up.

Actually this little shit was more terrifying as I thought his tail was going to knock every knick knack over in sight.

My little shit taking my less than professional photo shoot down 14 notches.

But I kept my cool because that’s what a self-appointed Queen of Halloween would do, right?

Afterall, the Queen of Halloween. Naturally.

Naturally.

Happy haunting.

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Leaf Lurker

Hello Friday

Hello Friday.

You know those weeks that seem to feel like an entire year has gone by within the past seven days? Well, I had one and could hardly wait to high tail it to my fave Nashville watering hole, Dalts to get five a few Skinny Pirates on Friday.

This iswhy I love Dalts.

Filled to the brim…one of the many reasons to love Dalts.

Returning to my mini manse, I opened the mailbox to see a card from my gal pal that included a rebate for Captain Morgan. If you happened to witness my reaction when opening the card, you’d have thought I’d just won $10,000 in cold hard cash ($4 off liquor can sometimes feel like a jackpot, OK? Don’t judge).

And my girlfriends.

I wish my girlfriend knew me better.

My twin hellions in Iowa were busy terrorizing their neighborhood on Saturday morning.

Hell's Angels in Iowa.

Hell on wheels at its cutest.

Once the trike terrorizing was complete, Prince B stopped to give his best J. Crew imitation.

Mini model

Mini model.

And Princess B further demonstrated her future as a cray cray cat lady by selecting the most beautiful bike helmet of all time.

Since my Iowa Hawkeyes were on a bye week, the Tennessee Titans suck shit and it was 75 degrees outside, I had some time on my hands to run around the park.

Much needed fall run jog.

Leisurely jog with the leaves.

There I was minding my own business, jogging slower than most fast walkers and jamming out to my playlist when all of a sudden out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a figure running full speed ahead at me, while screaming in Spanish (I unfortunately went with French class in high school).

In .02 seconds, my life flashed before my eyes (as I was sure this dude was going to usher me onto an episode of Forensic Files which then lead me to be thankful I keep my fingernails so long, as I could capture DNA evidence – just the kind of thing you’d think about before possibly perishing, right?) and before I knew it, my feet were over my head.

What the who?!

What the who?!

Processing the prior few moments (which is hard for me anyhow, being blonde and all) took longer than usual due to the stars spinning around my head. As I was turning around to punch the incomprehensible man still screaming at me in Spanish in the face, I was able to decipher the words “snake” and “rattle”.

What the fuck? Forensic files?

What the fuck?

Turns out my Knight in Spanish Speaking Shining Armour saved my ankle from being bitten by a rattlesnake that I was about to step on because it was lurking in the leaves on the asphalt trail. I went from wanting to accost him to wanting to marry him.

We're all good. Skinned knees are better than a rattlesnake bite, right?

Hold up. That was the shittiest proposal of all time.

With my heart securely sitting in my throat, I went home to take a long, hot shower and calm the fuck down. Due to the fact that I am totally blind without aid, I took a shower with a hairy little beast that I didn’t notice until I put my glasses on afterward.

Snakes and spiders Sunday.

Where’s my Spanish speaking man when I need him?

Feeling like Halloween was playing a gigantic prank on me with the reptile and arachnid run-ins, I repeatedly enjoyed glasses of vodka for the remainder of the day (the night and into the wee hours of the next morning, as I couldn’t go to bed thinking about snakes and spiders now could I?).

Skinny Skull

A Skinny Skull cocktail for scary Sundays.

My own personal heart attack prevention team made sure I was soothed the rest of the weekend much to my appreciation.

All fun and games 'til I costume them up.

All sweetness and sugar ’til I costume them up on Friday…

Here’s hoping you don’t have any heart stopping moments this Halloween week.

Eek!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

Losers Lane

Drowning in my sorrows.

Game day gulping at its finest.

So my blogging buddy Mark Bialczak and I had a virtual pinky bet last weekend, as our alma maters were going head-to-head in a college football game with the loser posting a victorious, smiling photo of the winner.

Being an overly confident ass, I just knew my Iowa Hawkeyes were going to beat some Maryland Terp tail.  When my black and yellow outfitted men scored a touchdown due to an interception in the first minutes of the game, my confidence soared.

Shine On!

One touchdown, one moonshine shot.

I had a hunch Mr. Mark wasn’t feeling so peppy after that turnover….

Not so fabulous first quarter for the Terps. Terp Tears

Terp tears.

My head swelled to an inconceivable size when Iowa scored a second touchdown within the first quarter making the score 14 to zip, zilch, nada.

Yeehaw

Shine time!

But it turns out that we Hawk fans did a victory dance three quarters too soon.

Happy dances done all too soon.

Overly confident two-step.

Much to my dismay, those Terps found themselves up 21-14 in the third quarter and at that point, even Mark’s cutie of a puppy, Ellie B. got in on the cheering.

Ellie B even got in on the turnaround cheer

Turnaround for the Terps.

Turns out my hyped up Hawkeyes failed to rally and lost 31-38.

Oh boy...thumbs down

A sparkly thumbs down.

So without further ado, please give a big round of virtual applause to the winners of what will surely be an annual pinky bet, Mark and his dear wife Karen.

Victorious! Until next year...

These two are too k-ute to trash talk.

Until next year….

CBXB

CBXB!

The Great Gourd Gussy Up

Once upon a time (like yesterday) this wickedly crazy for Halloween lady decided plain old orange pumpkins weren’t for her.

Merry Halloween!

Merry Halloween!

I had sudden pangs of guilt for my three recently acquired, extremely traditional pumpkins because they sat on ordinary stairs, doing their best to decorate a very common staircase.

Plain, Plainer and Plainest.

These pumpkins longed to be dazzled up and shine their brightest in the Halloween spotlight (I mean c’mon, they’re my gourds after all – like they’d be satisfied staying a plain old orange) and because I have a knack for all things sparkly, I set out to bedazzle the hell out of my mini manse drawbridge.

It started with a few cans of contemporary magic….

All found at your local hardware castle.

…and grass magically turned silver (on accident, as I did try to protect it…kinda) when a pumpkin makeover commenced.

Shiny and Shinier.

A little metallic silver here and glossy black there and…

POOF!

Gussied up gourds in all their glory.

The poor peasant pumpkins went from mediocre to magnificent in moments.

But this Halloween monster still felt that something was missing on my little plump pretties.

Enter the masked crusaders. $2.00 each, Target.

Of course plain white accessories just wouldn’t do, so glitz was added with a witchy wave of a spray can.

Accompanied with a sprinkle of modern-day fairy dust.

And finally, garnished with glamour.

So it is with pleasure that I proudly introduce the gaudiest fairest pumpkins in all the land…

And a precious pumpkin for even the most annoying feline in the animal kingdom, New Cat.

With the help of contemporary magic, these primped up pumpkins turned an ordinary staircase into a regal entrance.

The drawbridge of my mini manse is now complete.

And they’ll live happily ever after! (Well, they’ll live until I want to get my Christmas tree out on November 1st anyway)

Don’t judge.

CBXB

CBXB!