Weekend Winks – Red, White and Booze

Dreary skies didn’t keep the fun out of the Fourth of July holiday weekend in Nashville.  The crew and I were going to have a fabulous time – even if we had to enlist in the party patrol.

Patriotic party patrol.

Patriotic party on patrol.

Not everyone was in the spirit of celebrating. Prince B wasn’t sure what to think of his new headpiece as he paraded around his kitchen in Iowa.

Serious Statue of Liberty.

Serious Statue of Liberty.

While the real life sculpture was sulky, there was zero hesitation on my part whether or not to fete the weekend – no matter how shitty the weather. It was still hot enough for a boat ride accompanied with a bag of wine for classy, cooling off shenanigans.

Wine not?

This can also be used as a pillow if a party goer needs to pass out.

Between the over consumption of vino and the precarious monsoon-like weather, I kept refreshed in the lovely I-don’t-care-why-it’s-brown-because-I’ve-had-too-much-to-drink colored lake.

Cool down in the cool rain.

Cocktails helped keep my composure in the non-crystal clear lake.

Princess B had a much better (smarter, cleaner, safer) way of keeping her body temp in check by slurping on a slice of watermelon.

Keeping cool with water melon.

Star spangled smartie.

Not to be outdone by my niece, I threw on a matching outfit but sipped on something a bit more my speed.

Choosing another route.

Bringing the best out for a holiday.

Dada CBXB double fisted to stars and stripes forever as he downed a very American meal of … chips and salsa.

Double fisting cool down.

Red, white and brew baby.

Meanwhile I was policing my two pussies as they tried to create their own fireworks all weekend by demanding to drink out of the same dish at the same time, acting as if they had their sights set on the last nine ounces of water left on the planet.

Double up cool down

Party patrol on high alert.

Here’s hoping you find your own way to keep the blistery summer heat at bay.

Might I suggest something with booze?

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Star Spangled Shenanigans

Driving a boat at Lake of the Ozarks

Party Chick

Is a party girl from Tennessee

Party Girl

As cousins gather every Fourth

Cousins

To be with family

The Griswolds

From Jell-O shots

Jell-O

With whipped cream

Whipped Cream

Constant fights over the mic

Mic Fight

To sing karaoke

Karoake King

Trivial Pursuit winners, always reign supreme

Winners!

From new tattoos

Tattoo

To pool dunks

Dunk

With drunken dancers around a hunk

Hunk

Our favorite toy is the aqua bar

Aqua Bar

That prevents us from floating too far…

Floater

And I’m proud to be from my family

Family

Where at least I can be me

Beerpoo

And they never, ever let me forget

Just how handy my booty can be

Handy

Cousins blowing their muscles up

Blow Hards

Next to me

Muscles

So I won’t cry and feel left out

Cry Baby

There ain’t no doubt I love my clan

Clan

Thank God for my family!

Fam

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Booze, Babes and Fur Balls

You know those nights when you mean to have one cocktail and then accidentally go to bed with the bottle?

Hello Weekend. We missed you.

Hello Weekend. We missed you.

Oh you don’t know that feeling? Well, I lost track of how many ounces were consumed during a marathon gab fest Friday night where I meant to stop at my girl Jdub’s for a few drinks.

But then it was who knows what time and black stretch pants came out of her closet and my heels were thrown to the floor.

Yoga pants and bare feet for everyone!

Yoga pants and bare feet for everyone!

Then all of a sudden it was light outside and when I tried to pry my super glued eyelids open (well, that’s what it feels like when you accidentally sleep in your hard contacts), I found my face full of fur under this ass…

She's just big boned.

My neck felt amazing.

When I went to take my dehydrated, foggy visioned self home I couldn’t find my leopard jeans, so I rolled out in Jdub’s bootleg yoga pants that hit me at my ankles. Which nicely featured my sky high heels on a very early Saturday morning fashion don’t.

Hello hot stuff.

A whole different kind of walk of shame complete with white dog hair covering every inch of black material.

My Iowa twins were also rolling around in fur but it was by choice. I mean, who doesn’t dress up in their Halloween giddy-ups for the shits and giggles of it?

Cat and dogs. Dogs and cats.

This puppy loves a belly rub.

When dressing up gets old and boring after six minutes, there’s nothing like a little face paint.

Dirty Prince.

Dirty Prince.

Dirty Princess

Dirtier Princess.

But not to worry, they clean up to be two of the cutest faces on the planet.

Clean up real nice. Sparkling

A sparkling duo.

I bet Prince and Princess B wished their auntie would clean up her act but it is simply impossible. My dad and I were loading up on Skinny Pirates at Dalts when a fellow patron showed us my new favorite app.  You select a photo and the app puts a caption with it.

My dad got eaten by a shark…

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…while I think the person who created this app knows me a little too well.

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Speaking of drinking, look what is now on the beer market –

Cross Bones Beer

I think they could have used some of my sparkliness in their labels, yes?

As the weekend wound down, it was time to snuggle up with my fave houseguest and chug, Precious.

Sweet face

She knows she’s cute.

Luckily for me Presh and the cats get along fabulously. Maybe even a little too fabulously. Because now there’s barely room for my ample derriere on my leopard lair. Especially when New Cat is conducting high kicks.

Barely room for me.

I was given seven inches of space.

Here’s hoping you get a little more space on the couch than me this week.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Goodbye to Gma the Great

I’ve never been one to take my family or time with them for granted, so it was real bummer when my Gma passed away a few weeks ago. Not only was she one of my best buddies, I know I inherited her brutal honesty, ornery streak and love of having my fingernails polished.

An ode to my Gma, HJ who recently passed away…

Gma

Always one to laugh at surprises…

Image

…you took to my photobombing like it was one of your most treasured prizes.

Photo Bomb!

You never let anyone forget…

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…when it was time to celebrate you bigger than the national debt.

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I learned from the best…

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…how to celebrate my life full of zest.

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Now seriously Gma, you taught me to party harder than Mae West.

photo 1

A love of leopard you instilled….

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…which is now being passed down to the next generation, who’s thrilled.

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It’s so fun you two met at a skating rink…

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…even if after 44 years you still had to steal kisses quicker than an eye blink.

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Although I took after Gpa avoiding kisses, rather craving a hard drink…

photo 5

…you always insisted on showing your love, making sure everyone was in sync.

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Beauty sleep and a hairnet was apparently all that you needed…

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…but truly it was your hair ‘dos that always succeeded.

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So it was with glasses and confidence that I superseded…

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…the grace and confidence that you always heeded.

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I wish I would have felt more impeded.

photo 1

The Iowa State Fair you never did love,

probably because you couldn’t wear foot gloves.

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It will never be the same, not bringing you a corn dog…

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…and discussing how I ate my way through the fair like a prize-winning hog.

Image 145

Circled blacked out dates always meant you had a companion…

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…you always loved attention bigger than the Grand Canyon.

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Attending every homemade Christmas pageant we made…

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…and most likely secretly prayed…

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…that I would never end up a lonely old maid.

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The first to pass of five sisters, who lived out their misters,

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…you loved being pampered more than a fever blister.

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Your nails were painted the day before you passed…

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…and Jell-O shots without you will seem so miscast.

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Regardless of view near or afar, life will never be the same…

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…without you as my shining rock star.

I love you Gma.

Megan

CBXB!

To Dads Who Rock Our Worlds

An ode to my dad, the dude who’s taught me quite a few important life lessons worth sharing …

#1) The art of playing dress up.

One should never take themselves too seriously (doesn’t he make a beautifully awkward looking woman?).

Teach the importance of playing dress up.

Kid and Pam. Duo of the Halloween circuit (click here to read about it).

#2) Giving good fashion tips and showing the importance of taking risks.

I may never have rocked neon pink jeans or turquoise sneakers if I hadn’t seen my dad risking it by wearing a pink feather boa.

Oh, pink feathers would look good on me!

It takes balls to boa.

#3) Instilling the importance of a family tradition during holidays.

Thus taking this lesson to heart, I’ve turned into a Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Easter, anything-that-has-a-theme seasonal maniac.

Help you fall in love with holidays, so now you're a maniac when it comes to

Pumpkin carving passion 101.

#4) Schooling me on the art of loving your birthday so much, it’s your favorite day of the year.

My birthday is in late March (and if you must know, three months exactly after Christmas), therefore it’s my birthday month. And, although it’s June, I’m still accepting presents and celebratory cocktails. I really took this lesson to heart. Thanks Dad.

Teach the imporance of a celebration

I’m all business when it comes to taking tips on the art of blowing candles out.

#5) Showing the almighty ability to shake it up and party down without spilling your cocktail on the dance floor.

This might be the most important lesson learned from my father. I’ve fallen down stairs, tripped in grass and jumped into a pool without losing a drop of liquor from my glass. TALENT taught well.

Dancing maching

Drip dry dancing machines. Liquor in tact!

#6) Establishing the idea that no matter what, your family will be there to pick you up in times of need.

Like the time I accidentally got shit faced at my sister’s bachelorette party and couldn’t walk to the car because my feet hurt.

My feet hurt, I need a lift.

My heels are killing me! I need a lift.

Stiff as a board but sure as shit not light as a feather...especially after cocktailing.

A family effort trying to throw my dad’s back out.

Are we there yet? I think I just threw my dad's back out.

The dude who’s carried me through life like a champ.

Whether your dad is still cruising the streets or has departed to the big party in the sky, I’m raising my glass to each and everyone this Sunday.

Happy Father’s Day to all of the dads that have rocked our worlds.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

How to Almost Give a Gay Guy a Heart Attack

And no, the answer is not me naked.

Surprise party of one.

The answer is a surprise party of one stuffed into a car trunk.

This past weekend I was beckoned to Des Moines by my bestie Scooby to supply his husband with a good old fashioned make your heart stop birthday surprise.  Brainstorming on how I would be presented as a grand gift we landed on the idea of shoving me into the trunk for an ambush on Mr. Scooby.

Naturally, we pulled over in a church parking lot to get the deed done.

Good idea. God won't care.

Nothing strange about this scene.

A quick prayer was said in the hopes that no one would suffocate to death, all other vehicles on the road would avoid rear ending us and I prayed Scooby wouldn’t forget about me as soon as he went into the house to fetch his hubs.

Are you there God? It's me, Scooby.

Are you there God?
It’s me, Scooby.

With the surprise package in compact place, we were off.

Alive and kickin' but feeling very sorry for all of the damsels in acting TV  distress. This trunk shit is hard work. Especially the not laughing part.

Big ass, tiny space.

In case you were wondering what your trunk look like from the inside...

In case you were wondering, here’s what you’ll see if you’re ever thrown in a trunk.

As the car reached its destination, I heard voices approaching the vehicle to take a gander at what gift awaited while I almost pissed my pants from trying to keep my not so quiet laugh subdued. Mr. Scooby said, “is there a puppy in there?”

S.U.P.R.I.S.E. it's not a puppy!

S.U.P.R.I.S.E. it’s not a puppy!

It’s CBXB!

Happy or sad?

Bewildered birthday boy.

While the surprise was a success, I had a grand entrance fail.

Graceful exit. Easy in, hard out. Grand entrance fail.

Does anyone have a crane?

Once able to hoist my fat ass out of the trunk (a true junk in the trunk story here folks) it was birthday hugs for everyone.

Hieee!

It’s me!  In the flesh!

It's for reals.

For reals.

The only thing left to do was get the party started.

Let's party!

What’s a soiree without jazz hands?

And party we did.

Happiest of birthdays Mr. Scooby!

Happiest of birthdays Mr. Scooby!

Now how in the hell am I going to top this next year?

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – World Traveler

OK, so maybe I’m not so much of a world traveler as a back and forth to Iowa traveler.

The past two weekends I’ve found myself in opposite ends of Iowa, partying it up with some of my fave family members starting with Prince and Princess B.

Twins are so easy.

Twins are so easy.

I hadn’t seen my hell on wheels duo since January and being that they’re now two and a half no moment spent with them is dull.

Princess B

This laugh is as funny as it appears.

Prince B

Nephew nuzzles are the best kind of love.

My sister typically stocks up on my beloved Anderson Erickson chip dip (seriously the best dip on the planet and my ample ass can prove it!) for me but Princess B had other plans.

Love us some dairy.

Who needs a spoon?

We also ganged up and loved on our favorite Hawkeye, Dada CBXB.

Three

As you can see, he hates the attention.

After a two night layover back in my own Nashville bed, I headed up to see my spunky Gma (you know, the one who pretends to hate Jell-O shots and wheels around the town square in style) as she’s not been feeling fabulous recently.

Gma

Happy to be hanging together.

I also found myself willingly stuffed in a trunk for the sake of a birthday surprise for my fabulous friend Mr. Scooby.

Got thrown in a trunk

Not much I won’t do for a laugh.

Mr. Scooby was surprised to say the least.

Surprise success!

My bestie Scooby flew me into Des Moines to surprise his hubs, Mr. Scooby for his birthday. This trip also served as a way for Scooby and myself to get shit faced at the finish line while his hot husband and equally good looking running mate, Royal, sprinted 13.2 miles at the annual Dam to Dam.

Drunk Mascot

Race runners with their soon to be drunk mascot.

A little too much excitement in the collecting of champagne bottles resulted in a bubble catastrophe in the grocery store. I swear my two bottles of wine at supper had nothing to do with it.

Clean up on aisle nine...

Clean up on aisle nine…

But the spill was definitely worth the trouble as Scoobs and I tailgated at the finish line at the ass crack of dawn the following morning.

Force fed champs well before noon

Force fed champs well before noon.

We also mustered enough energy to engage in a photo shoot while waiting for our runners.

Holla!

Holla!

They did it!

They did it!

After drinking the day away, we kept it up by cocktailing with a fellow classmate, Rolo.

Old friends.

Old friends are the funnest!

After our 118th cocktail of the day, we decided that Scooby looks like the dad from the ’80s TV show “Alf”.

Don’t you agree?

Alf Dad = Scooby

Well, we don’t think the hair looks the same…

Although a whirlwind of a time, it was a spectacular weekend seeing my gays who make me belly laugh so hard I count it as an ab workout.

Foursome

Best bikini workout ever.

There was one teeny, tiny kink in my flight back to Nashville.

It took off at 6am.

I woke up at 5:15am.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

This wouldn’t be such an issue in any other booming metropolis but the thing is this was the one and only flight out of Nashville via Southwest on Sunday. My hungover ass had to make the plane.

At 5:39am I announced my arrival at the airport running in, screaming like a crazy lady at the Southwest ticketing agents:

“WILL I MAKE A SIX AM FLIGHT?”

“You have a slight chance but your bag will never make it.”

Throwing my suitcase at the agent (while thanking her at the same time), I turned into an Olympic runner barreling through security (thank god for salt of the earth, nice, understanding Iowa people who suggested I budge when they saw dust at my feet due to my sudden athletic abilities) and sprinting to my gate in just enough time to dry heave (my body is only used to me doing arm curls in order to get a cocktail to my watering hole) when I sat in my seat as the airplane door slammed shut 30 seconds after my entrance.

Um, oops.

Aging five years in fifty minutes.

And you know what? Even with my beyond late check-in, the suitcase made the airplane.

Made it!

God I love Iowa airport workers.

As this post comes to a close, I’ve received word that things aren’t looking so hot for my Gma and your good karma sent her way would be much appreciated as my family and I hope she’s resting comfortably.

Gma

Ladies out on the town.

And as I am giving my liver a rest, here’s hoping your week is off to a fabulous start!

CBXB

CBXB!