The Beauty of Birthdays

Birthdays of yesteryear taught me some extremely important lessons that I adhere to even today, as I prepare to celebrate another year of fabulous fun.

Huff. Puff. and Blow.

Huff. Puff. Blow.

1) Always take a peek in a mirror before a photo is snapped, forever capturing the loveliness of you on your special day or you may end up with something like this….

My most gorgeous birthday photo ever.

Hello Gorgeous.

Seriously. Stare in the mirror and give a rat’s ass or you’ll be gazing at your lovely self in something as beautiful as a crocheted vest for years to come.

Crochet nightmare

Fashion at its finest accessorized with wispy bangs.

Celebrate

Own advice not taken. Clearly.

2) Upon receiving presents, always act like you’ve just received the best.gift.ever. Even if you have no clue what it is or have no intention of ever wearing/using/displaying/eating/drinking.

Always act surprised.

Holy shit! I love it! No, truly I do.

3) Insist upon holding fingers up to commemorate which age you were celebrating when photos end up in albums.

Insist

I’m this many today.

Even if you’re not quite sure how old you are, own whatever you are saying which will demand more attention on you.

Even

If I say I’m two and a half, I AM TWO AND A HALF, ya dig?

4) Cake matters. Choose your design wisely.

Scoobs.

Everyone wants a piece of Scooby.

Then insist someone hand feed it to you.

Keepin' it classy. As usual.

Keepin’ it classy. As usual.

5) Practice your ‘birthday face’ so you can look adorable in all photos.

Mug for the camera.

Oh who me? Why yes it is my birthday. I’ll just hold this pose for the rest of the day.

Camera!

Adorableness fail.

6) Be sure to have a themed party. Even if it involves you looking like an ass clown.

theme

Send in the clowns.

7) Dance, jump and twirl to your heart’s content, acting as if you have one ounce of rhythm somewhere in your being.

PARTY!

Shake, rattle and rollin’ expected.

Dance

High kicks accepted.

Head banging also accepted.

Head banging also welcomed but you’ll regret it in the morning. Trust me.

8) Noisy favors are a must. Especially if party goers are under the age of six.

Blow it out.

Blow out birthday party.

9) Always go with the celebratory flow.

Go with the flow

Balloons in my hair? Sounds like a good birthday look.

Or at least let someone catch you when the flow gets to be too much for you to stand on your own.

Hey-oh!

Hey-oh!

10) Don’t ever turn away a birthday kiss, no matter how much you think it may hurt your face.

Scruffy faces hurt my cheek. Always low maintenance.

Always being low maintenance, scruffy faces hurt my cheek. Shave already!

11) Even if you share the same birthday with a cousin (gentleman to my left in photo below with thrilled look on his face) be sure you try to be the star of the show anyhow.

Sharing

Sorry. Not sorry B. Happy Birthday today by the way!

12) Never, ever, ever, ever turn down a birthday shot. Ever.

Why thank you

Birthdays taste so good.

Cheers to your birthdays of yesteryear – as well as a year full of the happiest of birthdays for all of us and those we hold dear!

This evening, I’ll be drinking to the wise words my Gma has told me every year, “having another birthday sure beats the alternative.”

Smart lady.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – FUN

The Nashville weekend was brimming with basketball, booze and those babies I adore in Iowa.

Ted was so happy to finally get a full bowl of his prescription cat food Friday night that he acted as if any kind of nourishment hadn’t touched his lips in three years (TRUTH: I couldn’t get to the vet early enough this week, so he and New Cat were forced to eat tuna, poor things).  It was such a lip smacking good party, Ted couldn’t get his head under the bowl (well, in his case martini glass) fast enough and ended up with food all over his furry bod.

Getting crazier by the second in the mini manse.

Getting crazier by the second in the mini manse.

My Iowa twins were gussied up in their finest Iowa threads in order to cheer our Hawkeye basketball team in the first round of March Madness.

Hakweyes most dynamic duo.

The cutest cheerleader and football player my eyes have ever seen.

Although Princess B could have cared less that the Hawkeyes won when she found out the celebratory meal would take place at Chili’s….home of her beloved salsa.

Mostly excited for the salsa at Chili's.

Who cares about basketball?

Wishing I was guzzling salsa with Princess B, I instead gave my kitchen a facelift with a new rug. First I thought it was a bit busy for the room – but who a I kidding? The busier the better in my mini manse!

You like?

You like?

There’s also something I’ve neglected to share with readers and for that I am sorry. Because I know you hang on every. single. aspect. of my trashtacular life.  So it is with great pleasure that I remind you my birthday is this Wednesday.

As in two days.

As in exactly three months after Christmas.

If you second day air mail packages, you’ll be right on time. If you snail mail, it will just keep my party going. I accept well wishes all year round however, so please don’t refrain as I obviously hate hearing about myself.

Birthday!

First gift of my birthday month!

Speaking of presents, I gifted Princess B with an Elsa swimsuit in which she promptly put on and pranced around.

Iowa's very own Elsa.

Iowa’s very own Elsa.

And when this tiny chick is in love with something it’s full on, full force. So she demanded to wear it out to play – with her leopard shades of course.

Too cool to take the suit off. Outdoor Elsa.

Outdoor Elsa.

The second round of March Madness came on Sunday night for the Hawkeyes, and Dada CBXB was luckily in Iowa not only watching the game with the twins but also on a big screen.

Back to the madness that is March basketball.

Not hating life in the slightest.

When all was said and done, Iowa got their asses handed to them and we decided to mourn the loss differently.

Hawks lose. Losing kisses.

The twins kissed their blues away.

While I decided to drown in my sorrows with the fullest martini I’d ever seen.

martini so full

A martini worth the moola.

A cocktail so full, I couldn’t use my hands to move it, therefore I sipped it as if I was a classy lady.

Look ma, no hands!

Look ma, no hands!

Upon returning home, I found my two pussies in a shoving match atop the pink sparkly hamper (which is normally Ted’s domain only).

Shoving match ensued. But I was face first into a martini, so....

Two’s definitely a crowd.

Upon the completion of the feline WWF show, I decided to make us friendship bracelets, as a reminder we can all get along.

Good idea, I think yes.

Again, crazier by the second here at the mini manse.

Here’s hoping you have a crazy fun week friends!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

A Loose Limerick…

  A crazy lady named Captain

IMG_2679

Stuffed her cats in Irish hats to entertain

IMG_2660

New Cat squealed

IMG_2704

Teddy persevered

IMG_2683

But both pussies still showcased their disdain.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Shamrocks ‘n’ Smiles

The Nashville weekend shenanigans contained a little St. Patty’s Day pre-parting and I was thrilled to partake in the events.

Who's with me?

Who’s with me?

My twins in Iowa were more than a tad excited not only for the upcoming hunt of leprechauns and gold but also to eat chicken for lunch (it’s the little things, isn’t it?) on Saturday.

These two are down for some shamrock celebrating.

My face at every meal.

Elation over poultry, a new playhouse and the making of their first ever mud pies kinda made me wish I was up in Iowa with my favorite twosome. But then they’d have wanted me to help with the pies of dirt and you know, my nails are “jewels, not tools,” so it’s better I viewed from afar.

Mud pies

Finger lickin’ fun.

Remember sweet Mighty Dog, who belongs to one of my fave couples? A few weeks ago she was recovering from cancer surgery and I asked you for good karma, hugs, purrs and prayers that she’d get back to her old self.

Remember Mighty Dog?

Recovering in comfort.

Guess what? It worked!

She’s back! She’s better than ever! She’s cancer free!

Ms. Mighty and her partner in crime, Buddy.

Ms. Mighty and her partner in crime, Buddy.

Feeling the need to celebrate everything under the sun (that finally came out in Nashville after a dreary winter – yeehaw!) Saturday evening activities commenced, starting with costuming my Glamingo (what grown ass woman doesn’t have a flamingo to dress up?).

Gussied up and ready to glam.

Gussied up and ready to glam.

My classy party staples were chilled to perfection.

St. Patty's Day fun

Jell-O shots locked and loaded for good luck.

And the most handsome Captain ever was at the ready to accompany me through the evening’s events.

Essentials

Ingredients for a perfect date.

The topper of the night? A spectacular light show that enhanced every aspect of the party…and then some.

Ooooh...ahhh....with the ultimate party lights!

Ooooh…ahhh….with the ultimate party lights!

Sunday was spent in typical fashion – with New Cat frolicking to the couch, only to see he was again too late to partake in lap love as Ted  pretends he’s made of stone and has been fast asleep for three centuries.

Usual places for Sunday evening...

Ignoring at its finest.

Know what I can’t ignore?

Animated faces ready to party among leprechauns.

Are you this excited?

These two are down for some shamrock celebrating.

Here’s hoping you find a pot of gold tomorrow!

CBXB

CBXB!

Cattail Hour

Who needs humans for happy hour?

Not this bat shit crazy cat lady!

My precious pussy Ted can hardly wait for me to arrive home in the evenings so we can partake in our cattails (of course this is only a mocktail for me before I move onto Skinny Pirates).

Catail time!

Those who cattail together, stay together.

He hates drinking alone at happy hour, so I get my head under the sink with him (yes, you read that right) and liquid my liver up before I master the art of dehydrating it over the weekend.

Drink up!

Drinking alone is no fun.

For those of you feeling bad that New Cat is left out – well, that’s his own fucking fault. His brain is filled with so many dead cells that he lays in the water once the sink has been filled…

And then bitches about it.

…and then bitches about it.

Happy cattailing to you and yours on this fine feline Friday.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Crazy Pants Party!

Looking for a fabulous way to kick cabin fever’s ass while celebrating a gal pal’s birthday, there was no better idea than to host a crazy pants party at my mini manse.

Crazy time.

Crazy time for crazy ladies.

Naturally needing to up my outfit ante,  I added pink tinsel eyelashes to my look…which I now want to be an everyday staple.

Details matter most.

Details matter most.

With my outfit ready and set to go, party food being monitored for meddling pussies and birthday decor in proper places, there was only one thing left to do…

Feed me.

Feed me.

… get the furry little host with the most set to be the greeter.

Greeter all

Everyone go home. I’m tired.

And then the crazy pants came in droves!

Crazy Pants!

Literal crazy pants arrived.

Clark Kent in his skivies.

Clark Kent showed in his skivvies.

Party pants with pops of color and sequins for me.

Party pants with polka dots, poppies and sequins mixed and mingled.

The Mad Hatter in her flannel and elf.

Flannel  pants and footie pjs won the prize for comfiest attendees.

And why stop at pants when you can add crazy hats?

Why stop at pants when you can add crazy hats?

Bedazzled helmets for our heads.

Now it’s not a party without a little drama – and you could cut the animal tension with a knife when sweet Precious rolled in.

Precious party goer in her sparkly giddy up.

Stealing Ted’s spotlight (that I’m still paying for).

With a puppy and two pussies under my roof already, this CBXB party wasn’t complete without my Pa.

My eyes are open.

Yes my eyes are open, you just can’t tell because of my six inch long tinsel lashes.

Nor will any party of mine be complete without classy rounds of Jell-O shots served by the one and only Mama CBXB.

You're been served.

You’re been served.

Once I’d consumed my weight in gelatinous goodness, it was time to ruin party pics.

Plenty of party pics for me to ruin.

You’re welcome.

While I was busy being the star of every camera’s show, Dada CBXB didn’t mind taking in all of the lovely lady sights.

All kinds of lovin' spread around.

A perfectly paired couple – from top to bottom.

A crazy pants party isn’t complete without various cray cray lady pics with an appropriate prop.

What's a crazy pants party without crazy party girls?

The angry drunk crazy lady.

Cr

The run for the hills and never look back crazy as fuck cat lady.

Crazy crying girl who was quickly DisLiked.

The crazy crying girl who was DisLiked.

With the shenanigans raging on until daylight started to creep in the windows, Teddy resorted to his Juicy Couture Pussy Palace where he knew I couldn’t fit in and breathe stale Skinny Pirate breath all over him.

Pussy Palace

A fancy furry tent cures kitty hangovers.

And as those wee rays of sunshine poured into the mini manse, I could only muster the energy to reach for my recovery kit complete with vodka, bloody mary mix and aspirin. Lots and lots of aspirin.

Still sippin' on my juice today..

A true life saver.

I may or may not still be sipping on a recovery mix days after this party ended, along with lots and lots and lots of aspirin.

Here’s hoping your week has been headache free!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Parental Pussy FAIL

Turns out not only can I not take photos with my pussies, I’m the world’s worst cat mom when it comes to snow days.

Photography fail. Feline photo fail

Feline photo fail 8,054,278.

Nashville has recently been pummeled with winter weather outside of the norm. And that’s meant staying in, hunkering down and working in my finest pjs.

Snow day office attire.

Snow day office attire.

Days home due to snow also require a trip to the grocery whenever a winter advisory is in place and Nashvillians feel the need to stock up on any and everything under the sun. Especially milk and bread.

Save yourself.

Save yourself. The lines were about 16 deep at each checkout.

So instead of getting snow day food essentials, I filled my car with the more important necessities when stuck at home.

Most important stocking up of all.

Priorities.

Upon waking up and realizing I needed to put a layer of carbs in my belly before commencing on the day drinking ahead of me, I found an old box of pancake mix and blueberries in the fridge that didn’t yet have mold growing on them.

Homemade breakfast.

Yes, I can cook. Don’t go dying of shock.

After stuffing my face (because I’m like any good selfless mom, I fed me first) with what felt like eight pounds of pancakes, I realized my little fur balls needed some meat for their bones too.

Cats need food too...

Awe, little prince was rationing his food.

But then, this happened when I went to the cat pantry….

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Upon hearing the cling of the metal food pan ringing a little too loudly due to the lack of food inside, Ted had some choice looks for me.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE'RE OUT OF FOOD?!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE’RE OUT OF FOOD?!

Mr. Bear looked in the cupboards with no luck.

Cupboards were empty

Nothing but crumbs.

New Cat checked under the kitchen rug to no avail.

None under here. Rug rate.

My mom hates me.

When I tried calming them down, saying I had tuna (that may or may not have expired in 2010) somewhere in a drawer I returned from my search to this on my computer.

Oh boy.

Oh boy.

Feeling slightly guilty that I had my booze and batter on hand, I thought I would be a super mom and brave the icy streets of Nashville to get these little assholes their fancy $60 cat food (Ted has kitty Celiac’s Disease and New Cat just lucks out – the little bastard).

I then realized that the only tools I had to fight the ice was my Captain and a spatula.

An Iowa girl minus a scraper.

What kind of Iowa girl am I without an ice scraper?!? Yet another fail from yours truly. Sorry Iowa.

Turns out the cooking utensil was no match for the ice that had frozen every opening of my vehicle shut.

Getting nowhere fast.

Getting nowhere fast.

One quarter of the way through after 55 minutes.

One quarter of the way through after 48 minutes.

Realizing that my efforts were going to go down in flames, I trudged back inside to tell my pussies the bad news.  Teddy took it about as well as when he jumped in a bush like Garfield.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CSN'T GET OUT?!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T GET OUT?!

New Cat in all of his dramatic glory, fainted.

Ohmygod! Ohmygod. Ohmygaaaaaaawd.

OMG. Ohmygod! Ohmygod. Ohmygaaaaaaawd.

Luckily for me, my buddy Camo texted that he’d be up my way in his heavy duty truck and asked if I needed anything. And boy, was he sorry (no good deed goes unpunished) when I told him I needed the fancy prescription cat food for His Royal Highness and Mr. Annoying.

He nicely agreed to pick it up, so I called the pet store to see if I could pay over the phone. While the business transaction was a success, the store was closing in 15 minutes due to the inclement weather. At this point, I just felt like I should end it all and let the cats eat my face in lieu of their precious fucking food.

But lo and behold Camo whisked in with a bag just in the nick of time (I’d chosen to put my head in the oven due to warmth).

Snow Hero to the rescue!

Camo needs a cape.

New Cat was so happy to see this sight that he started to make out with the bag of food.

Love

Hugging on the fine delicatessen.

Kissing on the food.

Kissing, er…biting on the bag.

Escorting the damn food to its new home.

Escorting the damn food to its new home.

And diving right in on the fresh duck and pea food.

And diving right in on the fresh duck and pea concoction.

Naturally my first born was nothing but pissed off, yet still found a way to eat anyhow.

I hate your guts but my fancy food is delish.

I hate your guts but my fancy food is delish.

We’ve since all made up.

Back to being mauled. Just as it should be.

Back to being mauled. Just as it should be.

Lesson learned folks. My checklist for the next winter weather advisory:

  1. Cat food
  2. Captain
  3. Cat food
  4. Wine
  5. Cat food

Can someone please remind me of this list? It’s hard being blonde.

CBXB

CBXB!