World’s Bitchiest Bunny

Here comes Teddy Cottontail
Bitchin’ down the bunny trail
Hippity hoppin’, Easter’s on its way!

Clawin’ every chance he gets
At his own mother’s neck
Here’s hopin’ that we brighten your Easter day!

T. Bunny

T. Bunny

Paws crossed the bunny finds you.

Happy Easter!






Adios Amigos!

Goodbye Nashville! Hello vacay!

A few weeks ago I was bitching and moaning that I had nothing on the books for Spring Break. The vacation Gods heard my whiny ass soon and soon I’ll be basking at the beach while cabana boys deliver endless umbrella adorned Skinny Pirates.

Teddy will be checking in on the blog (as he loves revisiting posts all about him, naturally) while I’m away.

Ted loving Ted

Ted loving Ted.

Of course he’ll also be pining for me daily, so he’ll dramatically thrust himself into a fave blanket in my absence.

Feeling sorry for himself

Feline fit for a soap opera.

New Cat has tried to pack himself among my sunscreen and sequins, although he miserably failed as he ripped every bag he tried to hide in to shreds.

Hi. I'm expensive. And I like it that way.

Where do you think you’re going?

While both of my pussies will be in beyond capable hands, I know I’ll be paying one high price upon my return (which is why I’ll be stocking up on cat nip while away).

If you hear of any breaking news on the beach, I had nothing to do with it….




Weekend Winks – Leading and Loving It

My Nashville weekend kicked off at my fave watering hole, Dalts.

Fun times

Wishing Friday nights were fun.

While we were busy whooping it up and throwing jazz hands down at one end of the bar…


What’s a Friday without a jazz hand?

…the other end of the bar was hosting the worst date of the year…

Date nightmare.

Very clear chemistry.

…and the men were lining up to ask me out.

Can you see me now?

Can you see me now?

Does it shock anyone (anyone?) reading that I had another birthday celebration?


Showing off the silver bag while being photo bombed.

We then able to played around the world with my gifted sake, homemade apple brandy, my Skinny Pirate and a Miller Lite. Did we miss anything?


Fabulous foursome.

My fave bartender, Marjia even got in on the photo fun by posing with my buddy’s sixer – and yes, that’s how they serve him.

Marjia the Bartender

Perfect presentation.

While I slept Saturday morning away, the Iowa twins were basking in the glory of a new play set.

Play on.

Play on.

My niece also proudly displayed her pink cowboy boots that came from Auntie CBXB…

Shit kickers

Shit kickin’ after my own heart!

Seeing the fun she was having parading in her boots, I decided to prance around in my Prada kitten heels.

Prada Prance.

TJ Maxx score of the century.

Upon returning back to the mini manse, I had a fun surprise awaiting my arrival.


Who doesn’t like a Nordstom bag hanging on their door?

Which ended up being a belated birthday gift well worth the wait – a pink Alexander McQueen scarf.

Wish knew me better.

Wish my friends knew me better.

Turns out while Mama was away, the cats played and broke into an outlawed bag of food. This bag was in a closet that the little monsters pried open and drug to the kitchen. Being that it is not Mr. Ted E. Bear’s $60 prescription duck and pea food, he’ll surely be getting sick any second. Little beasts.

Gone too long.

Gone too long.

On Sunday I went with the slicked back no bangs look, as I am waffling on whether or not to grow them out. Thoughts?

No bangs Sunday

Bangs or no bangs? #firstworldproblems

What good is a weekend if you don’t sweat out the toxins before shoving more in?

Walk it out.

Bloody Marys for me after a jog.

My new mantra greeted me at mile marker four.


You know it.

As the end of my weekend came to a close, I tried to finish the 391 loads of laundry seeping into all areas of the mini manse. Ted was a gigantic help.


Folding laundry is exhausting.

Here’s hoping you have a week’s worth of clean clothes and cocktail to keep it fun.







Youth is Wasted on the Young? Bitch, Please.

My favorite Georgia dame, Ldawg tagged me in a game (on Facebook) and of course I just had to play, as I never want to miss out on any fun.  The skinny is the tagger selects an age and you answer questions in regard to that time in your life.

Here goes…
Age I was given: 22

Ringing in the 22nd.

Ringing in the 22nd.

Where I lived: Iowa City, IA

Iowa City fun times.

Hawkeyes at heart.

What I drove: a cool red Beretta (that I once had Johnny Rzeznik from the band Goo Goo Dolls in but that’s a story for another day).
What I did: graduated college with a broken leg and put my two degrees to use by bartending afterward before heading to Nashville.

Broken ankles are fun when you

Broken ankles are fun when you have cousins to carry you around.

Bar tending at its finest.

Bar tending at its finest.

"Packing" the night before I left for Nashville.

“Packing” the night before I left for Nashville.

Who had my heart: Nicodeamus – the first little fur ball love of my life.

Such a sex kitten.

Such a sex kitten.

Where I currently live: Nashvegas, Baby!

Only a pinky out will do

My gaudy Nashville style. Pinky up.

What I drive: Toyota 4Runner that has turned into a piece of shit rust bucket.

Dream come true...

Willing my ride into a Range Rover.

What I do: Have fun!

Risky Business

Fun with bubbly.


Family fun.

Titans Mania!

Fun at football games.


Fun times booblegging.

Red neck? Fabulously trashy? Ultra stupid to give me a machine gun?

Fun times with a machine gun.

Two for one....

Two times the fun.

My feet hurt, I need a lift.

Piggy back ride fun.


Lake of the Ozarks family fun.

to PM....I could get used to this.

Bathroom primping fun.

Perfecting our scare faces

Riding in the car fun.

Our work version of Santa.

Fun at work.

Snuggle Time

Fun times with the pussies.

How to turn a gay man straight...well, maybe not.

Trying to turn a gay man straight fun.

Like fam

Selfie fun.

Party Girl not pooped.

Never wanting the party to end fun.

Who has my heart:  Mr. Ted E. Bear and those chubby cheeked twins in Iowa.

Film me, Bitches.

Heart portion #1.


Heart portions #2 and #3.

Wanna play? Comment below or on Facebook and I’ll give you an age.

Cheers to not wasting any day in your life!



My Pussy Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

My pussy cat Mr. Ted E. Bear loves to hate me.

All I do.


For some odd reason, even though I shower the little love of my life with more affection than a newborn human, he can be so bitchy.  Many times when I’d like to scoop him up for a photo-op, he loves me not.

Kiss me fool

Bitch please.

Still not loving me.

Cheek bite

Getting cheeky.

Forced to love me.


Face of defeat.

Teddy gets extremely annoyed with football season, as every Saturday becomes a drunken moonshine guzzling family affair and he isn’t afraid to showcase his disdain.

Not football friendly. Tailgate fail.

No pussy love for tailgating.

But what I can’t understand is Ted’s pissy behavior when I force him into his Sunday best…


Loves me not.

Or dress him up in a bee costume…


Desperately wanting to sting his mother.

Or make him be a version of Robin Thicke to my Miley.


Love me not.

Money shot!

For sure hates my guts.

What I do know is that regardless of whatever giddy up I shove Tedstar into, he always warms up (after some treats are dispersed – green peas are his fave), comes back around (once I have thoroughly massaged between his ears, under his chin with the grande finale of a belly rub) and gets in the saddle once again to be my constant sidekick.

Always got my back.

He’ll claw a bitch.

So no matter how much my pussy love to hate me, we always kiss and make up.

Kiss and make up.

Loves me?

Whether he likes it or not.




How to Stretch Out a Party

I’ve never met a day I couldn’t celebrate, especially when it involves my date of birth.



Remember the fun celebrations of yesteryear, where all the school kids would line up on your special day for a piece of cake and a party favor?


The beginning of my celebratory spirit. The more, the merrier.

Well now that I’m an adult (I use that term loosely) and most of the folks I know have real grown-up lives (you know, mortgages, spouses, babies, jobs – which I know nothing about except for the work part) it’s harder to get everyone together for one celebration. Which means that I streeeeeetch the occasion out for as long as humanly possible.

On my actual birthday, I was greeted with tasty lunchtime treats followed by a 9 hour work meeting.

Wish my work buddies knew me better.

Wish my work buddies knew me better.

Upon the adjournment of our conference the work boys wined and dined me, starting with a light-up cocktail menu that had to be pried from my paws when the waiter came to take it away.

Light up menu solves everything.

The only way this menu could get better was if there was a mirror on one side.

Birthday love

Feeling the love.

Wish I may I wish I might stretch my birthday out 'til next Friday night.

Wish I may, wish I might stretch my birthday out ’til next Friday night.

The week continued with a surprise visit from my fave Real Housewife from the South where we celebrated our mutual love of vodka.

Still sizzlin'

Presence is the best present!

'tini time.

Strawberry martinis never disappoint.


Dessert #2 for the second straight night…

With wine and vodka under my sparkly birthday belt, it was time to party down with tequila.

Lime in the coconut time!

Birthdays make you thirsty.

Shits and giggles.

Margaritas make you topsy-turvy. fri-ie-ie-ied ice cream!

Dessert three nights in a row makes your hips curvy.

As the handsome staff surrounded our table with song, I was also sweetly smothered in whipped cream.

Sing to me.

Laugh all you want. I’m keeping this sombrero.

Thing is…the hat was heavier than anticipated.

Marg me

Straining my neck for the love of tequila.

The burdensome headpiece proved to thwart all ability to sip margaritas with any shred of dignity.

Heavy crown.

Balancing act fail.

So I decided to keep the crown down, taking it easy on the high maintenance neck.

So I kept my head down.

Bow down to the gaudy crown.

What better way to round out the party spree than spending it with Ma and my beloved rum?

Mama and me.

The grand finale.

My Skinny Pirate loving ass took to the bar stool that should have my name etched in it at Dalts (my Nashville version of Cheers).

photo 4

Captain Morgan I am obviously not.

The bday week wouldn’t have been complete without a little March Madness and a bloody mary now would it?

Winding down

The perfect wind down.

Like I ever wind down...

Like I ever wind down.

At least my fabulous friend knew exactly what I would need come Sunday evening.


…for after all the celebrating is over…


Clearly working off all of the extra calories consumed through the week was a major concern.

Party on indeed.





Weekend Winks – Cat Woman Style

Much to my unembarrassed delight, it seems as if I’m becoming known around the streets of Nashville for my crazy cat lady status.


This is Ted and I love him more than most humans. Deal with it or move on.

Last week, I was in the pharmacy (you know, where actual people get their medicine) picking up a prescription for my recently acquired sick ass stray kitty, New Cat.

Hi. I'm expensive. And I like it that way.

The most expensive stray cat in the history of my mini manse.

Wanting to put a paper bag over my head when I heard “New Cat, New Cat, your prescription is ready,” over the loud-speaker in Walgreens, I assured myself that this couldn’t have been a blip in the pharmacist’s radar of unusual medicinal refills.


I went to pick up my own personal prescription this weekend and, well, I got a handwritten note from the pharmacist accompanying my refill.

Yep. Seriously.

Making last impressions whether I want to or not.

The lady at the register commented that the pharmacist must remember me from a previous visit. Oh, no shit Sherlock?

My Iowa twins thought the story was simply hilarious.

Because they're happy...

Can you believe our aunt is such a jack ass? Hee Hee.

Ma came in to soothe nerves and further extend the celebration of my birthday month week.

Like mother, like daughter!

Cheers to cray cray and birth dates!

Of course I didn’t mind being a tad spoiled…


I wish my mom knew me better.

Gift helps

Thank God I had Tedstar to aid in the unwrapping of every piece of ribbon.

Due to all of the glitter on the gifts, I was able to shine bright like a diamond the rest of the day with the copious amount of pink sparkle on my jeans.

Not at all upset with the glitter.

Wishing these jeans were for real.

Taking my upgraded fancy pants out and about, we invested in a few birthday cocktails.

Still a celebration

A glass for the birthday. A bottle for the crazy.

Perusing through my gifts the next morning, I got a little tangled in my new Beats by Dre headphones.


Taking headphones off for blondes is hard work.



Possibly the best birthday gift of all this year? A long-lost scrunchie (yes I said scrunchie) that I wear to bed nightly reappeared with my mom after her last trip to Iowa (I was for sure my dogphew ate it).


It’s a birthday miracle!

All of the tangled excitement and scrunchie fever had me exhausted before noon.


Thanks for the over-partied recovery mask Enchanted Seashells!

Here’s hoping you have a week filled with non-crazy cat ladies and lots of springtime fun.