The Fabulousness of White Trash

Sink.

Only chic people bathe in the kitchen sink, ya dig?

Can white trash be fabulously classy?

It’s all in one’s perspective.

I picked up all kinds of trashy tips from my youth – like wrapping a can of pop (soda, Coke, whatever area of the world you live in insert word here) in aluminum foil is a poor gal’s koozie (my mom would do this to chill my beverage for field trips), keeping a wet wash cloth in a plastic baggie is just the same (and much cheaper) than a wet wipe (again, my clever mother), and ketchup between two slices of bread will make you feel like a chef (my genius shining through).

Ketchup sandwich for one, please.

Ketchup sandwich for one, please.

Any of these tips ring a bell to you? If not, you’re a classy person – in my book anyway.

To me, being white trash is knowing better (eating the piece of cheese after removing the moldy corner, blaming the broken basketball hoop on me, your cousin when I saw you break it with my own two eyes, proudly announcing that your entire family’s favorite movie is National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, digging the bag of chips out of the garbage because you want to be sure you ate them all or wearing a mini skirt with heels – that are just a tad too high – but doing it anyway), while not giving a rat’s ass what anyone thinks.

A mini minus the heels.

An early mini minus the heels.

I grew up in a rural Iowa town where it was a big deal if Dad decided to get a Casey’s gas station pizza on Friday night, a small hog (yes hog, not dog) house served as my backyard playhouse where mud pies were served abundantly and you were never short a friend or cousin to play alongside and smoke sugared cancer sticks.

Smoking deck for my cousin and me.

Classy candy cigarettes on the smoking deck after a long day of play.

I was also raised in a world where it was perfectly acceptable (in my family, anyway) to come home from the pool for lunch, play a round of baseball with Dad in the yard (not opting for a wardrobe change – sticking with the classy bathing suit), then head back to swim the rest of the day away.

Quick round of batting practice while home from the pool

Quick round of batting practice while home from the pool.

Being in a small town, we made our own fun. If there were no toys around or activities for a kid to do, my parents entertained me with a brown grocery bag, which I obviously enjoyed with enthusiasm.

No toys? No problem. A paper bag will do the trick.

No toys? No problem.

Preschool graduation days were also classily creative due to my mother’s knack of using paper and a plastic bowl in lieu of a real hat.

Graduation day at its finest.

Kiddie College graduation day at its finest.

Thankfully, the tricks of the white trash trade I acquired while growing have remained in perfect tact.

Drunk Girl

Classy drunk girl gracefully aging through life with a red roadie and one shoe.

White trash? Or fabulously trashy?

Fabulous in my book.

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Purrfect Dates and a Puppy

My beloved little fur ball Ted had his first date this past weekend.  You see, my pussy decided to take a self-appointed vacation a few weeks ago without letting me in on his plans and this little cutie below helped him find his way back to me.

Ted's first play date left him tuckered out.

No longer my little boy, on his first date and all.

While I was busy helping Mr. Bear get all gussied up for his rendezvous, my Iowa twins were going bananas over their own news.

Off the fucking rails.

Seriously off the fucking rails.

Because this was happening…

Welcome to the clan Spike!

Meet Spike.

Ever since my first dogphew Gunner suddenly passed away last November, the hustle bustle of the castle that houses my little prince and princess seemed too calm (right, sis?).

As you can imagine, the announcement of acquiring a new fur ball really wound the twins up – Princess B even dressed up in her finest prom gown (compliments of moi – surprised?) while awaiting Spike’s arrival.

I can't.

Who doesn’t wear sparkles on summer afternoons?

She hates him.

She hates him.

Prince B found the accessories that accompany a puppy way more intriguing than the dog himself.

Naturally they took right over and Spike learned his place immediately.

Exactly how toddlers would be housed at my mini manse.

This little ball of love has no clue what he’s in for – I especially can’t wait for Halloweennot that we ever over do it in my family or anything.

Puppy without a pen.

Welcome to the clan, buddy.

In other news, all is right in the world now that I have my Christmas Vacation 2015 ornament. How fitting is it that it’s called “Meowy Christmas”?

MINE! How fitting.

I mean, hello!

Ted shared my Christmas in July excitement when I presented him with our new Clark W. Griswold decoration.

Are you OK, comfy? Enough room?

Bitch please.

About that same time, the meme below was sent to me by a friend.

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Not like it’s going to be true or anything.

CBXB

CBXB!

My Pussy, the Bitch

Teddy Bear can really be a little bitch sometimes.

Missing man.

Worse than a junior high school girl hitting puberty.

And now that Ted has a partner in crime – New Cat – they can be such little bitches together.

Two times the trouble.

Two times the trouble.

The past few weeks, I might as well be getting up to nurse a fucking newborn because Mr. Bear starts meowing (in which he sounds like a tiny sheep) around 3am.

Then he comes in a little closer to the bed at 3:04 am.

A little louder and just out of arm’s reach at 3:07am.

I put the pillow over my head, turn my sound machine up and all of a sudden my little sheep cat is roaring his head off like a lion.

Fierce.

Fierce.

Then, because he idolizes his big bro, NC starts chiming in and together they sound like a jacked up version of a church choir.

And then bitches about it.

NOT pitch perfect.

When Tedstar first started doing this, I’d get my ass up to coax him back to bed but he wanted to play chase. Such fun every night at 3:13am.  I would go to pick him up and he’d run (for what seemed like his life – I might as well have been threatening to de-claw him with pliers) under the kitchen table. As soon as I’d crouch down by the table, he’d race into the bathroom behind the toilet, and so on…therefore, I started to ignore him.  Because he’s really just seeing if I will get up and give into him, right?

I never ever ever ever ever give in to this face. Ever.

I never ever, ever, ever, ever give in to this face.
Ever.

Well, this bitch means business. So much so, I was considering how to reupholster a section of my vintage sofa that used to belong to my Gma.  As I was getting my beauty sleep amid the white noise of my sound machine (on the highest volume setting) TB was up to no good (with assistance by Mr. Tuxedo, I’m sure).

Teddy Krueger’s version of a temper tantrum.

Of course I couldn’t find the little shits when I discovered this treasure and racked my brain contemplating how to patch this corner (the front, exposed so everyone can see it corner, naturally).  And I came up with a solution that fit right in with my eclectic, budget conscious household. Duct tape.

Leopard duct tape.

Growing up, I my dad taught me that duct tape can fix anything (even your big, fat glasses in 3rd grade. You simply put the duct tape over the piece that snapped off, which in my case was right in the middle, where the glasses sit on one’s nose and pretend as if nothing is wrong. Which is why much to my delight, I was nicknamed Ducky. Kids are so sweet).

Hello Gorgeous

Pre-Ducky break.

In my current case, applying my father’s knowledge, I found leopard duct tape and ‘reupholstered’ the corner of my couch.

Cheapest (and probably cheapest looking) DIY job ever! But it does the trick.

The $4 duct tape fix. Dad’s practical solution!

In reality, Teddy was just trying to help me spruce up my space a tad. Because once he got his claw stuck in the duct tape, he never set his sights on my couch again.

Oh, and those 3am wake up cries? Seems the cats were needing food, as I was forgetting to feed them before bed (guess this would be why I don’t have kids).

So now, I feed the damn pussies at night and all of my furniture has remained in tact.

For now.

CBXB

CBXB!

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…

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…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.

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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…

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…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.

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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!