The Bun of Steel

Who doesn’t not wash their hair for almost two weeks?

Anyone? Anyone?

Whenever I go see my fabulous stylist, I relish the wine, the time, the wine and the way I shine when I leave the salon. Upon my arrival, the desk dude always says to my stylist, “China, your bull has arrived.” Wonder why?

Hot head.

After getting pink nestled in my locks, I wait as long as possible to wash my hair, letting the dye really sink in. Typically I will get my hair colored on a Wednesday or Thursday night so I have the weekend to wear my hair up, washing my mane on Monday morning.

The day after my dye job.

This time was no different, except I overslept on Monday and didn’t have time to wash my hair, so I threw it up in a bun.

At this point, I was on day five with no shampoo touching my scalp.

After work, I went to hot yoga and got extremely sweaty. Normally, the bun doesn’t hold up through class but somehow this time, it did.

Hot bun.

I took a bath when I got home, leaving the bun in place, planning to take it down Tuesday morning. But when I woke up…it looked fresh out of the oven done. So, I left it in – again. I hit up the park after work for a long walk, fully planning on sudsing my locks afterward. But…

Welp, whether you think it’s gross or not…

That made it an entire seven days with not washing my hair. And, I got lazy on Wednesday night with no working out, therefore, the bun survived with another evening. (And when I say survived, I mean I’m doing nothing to it except loading it with more hairspray every day. I’m not taking it down and putting it back up.) So Thursday, my bun and I made our eighth appearance together.

By this point, if you follow me on Instagram, this was the hot topic in my stories. It had been referred to as Bungate, I was told that I was turning into one of those old church ladies who only has her hair ‘set’ once per week, leaves it in an updo until my next beauty shop appointment. One wire pick away from Grandmaville…

Especially when I announced my now disgustingly beloved bun was on its fifth day of perfection.

My direct messages were nothing short of hysterical upon my posting of day five with the bun.

My bald friend across the pond even joined in on the fun making a bow bun for himself.

Since it was Friday, I thought fuck it, I will just wash it tomorrow and had some Skinny Piratesย with what was now basically my Siamese twin.

Skinny buns.

Waking up to bun perfection on Saturday, I went to the park to walk…maybe jog.

Run or walk?

When I posed the run or walk scenario on my stories, I got the most important response.

I heeded the advice given to me and walked. Then I headed out to Dada CBXB’s for a Hawkeye game watch. Problem was, I needed to stop at my mothership, Target on the way and IT WAS RAINING.

With no shame in my game, I raced into run my errands and then arrived in time for kick-off. While watching the game, Cousin Eddie, one of my dad’s cats (that naturally I gave to him), took great interest in the knot on my head. Ed loves hair and heads (like he sleeps on my head when I stay there), so I was fairly certain it would be bye-bye bun.

Bun thwarter.

But he was willing to wait until after the game. However, Dada CBXB tried to smush the bun with a helmet during one of our Family Tradition touchdown shots.

Helmet head.

The bun survived both threats.

I woke up on Sunday like this…

Upon leaving heavy-handed from Dada CBXB’s, I took great precaution again, putting my makeshift grandma hair net on before setting out into the rainy day.

Bags, bowls and a protected bun.

Buns anonymous, here I come. Because the goddamn thing was still in on Monday morning.

Thankfully.

Wondering if I washed it before work? You bet your ass I didn’t. Although by this point, I was having to carry around my envelope opener to itch the inside of my bun because it was beyond scratchy. Also, I used about half a bottle of perfume, just dousing my top knot in it daily to avoid looks from others due to the greasy fumes that were emanating from my head.

Monday night, I again went to yoga…and the next morning…

So adorbs. It felt like ten year old plastic Barbie hair to the touch.

Sexy Plastic and I know it.

The back of my head was a different story…

Cat’s nest.

After an hour long shower, four shampoo cycles, and one deep conditioner left on for 20 minutes, I was good to go. So much so, I thought about calling Suave and offering to be a hair model for the day.

The exquisitely preserved pink.

I don’t think that old saying, “one must suffer to be beautiful,” really applies to my situation but I’m going to pretend that’s why I waited so long to end Bungate.

Now I’m off, being too busy washing my hair to do anything else. Then, I’ll start working on my next bun of steel.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Ghouls Night In

Being that I haven’t been in a celebratory mood for the past two years, retrieving my Halloween decor out of Camo’s attic was an exciting feat. Getting my giddy up back after Rapegate, I’m trying to stay on the right track by doing what I would “normally” do, which is celebrate the fuck out of every. single. thing. I can.

So Halloween has been my first glittery stiletto heeled step in the thriving direction. And what better way to get my ass in gear than to host my monthly Supper Club in October?

Yeah…all for the mini manse.

As soon as the bins were in, I was in shopping heaven – being that I hadn’t seen my sparkly Halloween accessories in almost 700 days. I perused my own decor, acting like I was on an episode of a holiday themed Supermarket Sweeps.

Decor for days.

This was also the first time any of my current fur ball amigos had seen any type of Halloween madness from their mama, and it was super fun trying to avoid stepping on a live cat bomb, as they hid amongst everything.

Elsa Pants trying her hand as a ground hog.

As the count down began, I decorated like the Wicked Witch of Nashville, readying my mini manse for a Ghoul’s Night In.

Why would it be worth even putting one decoration out, if you didn’t dress up the outside of your haunted house? Even the Glamingo slipped into her skeleton feather attire.

Grand entrance.

While most mansions have extravagantly large foyers, mine is excruciatingly small – but grand nonetheless.

Instead using my dining room for what its intended, I naturally have a few bars (duh).

The bar cart gussy up.

The liquor bar gussy up.

The side bar gussy up.

The wine bar gussy up.

The fur ball bar gussy up.

No, I do not think I have too many bars. No, I also do not need to attend weekly meetings (*cue eye roll*).

In lieu of dishes in kitchen cabinets, I chose to display Halloween knick knacks galore because…really, dishes are boring.

The stove top was easy to cover because it’s so rarely used.

My piece de resistance happens to be my player piano, which I turned into a haunted forest of sorts where resident pussies often tip toe through like abominable snowmen, seeing what all can be knocked over. Or broken. Or played with to pieces.

Speaking of my pussies, of course their room is also decorated – or else they’d be pissed.

Kit cats killed the witch.

Truth.

After my mini manse was haunted to the gills, it was time to prep for the ghouls.

Appetizing table setting.

Spooky Sangria prepped and ready.

My finest china ready for chili and potato soup.

Chili costume accessories.

All that was left were the ghouls who came to par-tay as my fave non-scary Halloween movie, Practical Magic, played in the background.

Cutest ghouls in Nashville.

Don’t think I let them forget me.

I mean, I am the ghostess with the mostess.

Happy Haunting!

CBXB

How to Display Merriment

Aside from the ability to wear gaudy holiday outfits, I always look forward to the snail mail of merriment that comes my way every December and decided to turn my kitchen into a museum of family and friends by hanging the fabulously festive cards on my cabinets.

Display

Holiday happiness on display.

Here’s what you’ll need for this most uncomplicated of decorating projects:

Goods

Scissors, your choice of ribbon, mini clothes pins and packing tape.

Mothership

I found my pink sparklers at Target for $3.00. Score!

First you need to measure the ribbon around the cabinet door and then tape each end of the ribbon down.

measure, cut, tape

Giving Martha Stewart a run for her money, I know.

The ribbon can stand alone as simple decor.

K-ute alone

Sprucing up the most mundane (and most unused) area of my mini manse.

But once your ribbon is filled with friendly faces, fur balls and off spring, you’ll want to open every cabinet door in the kitchen daily.

or covered in cards from loved one.s

Tempted to leave up year round…

Happy wrapping!
CBXB

 

 

Wrap It Up

I always look forward to the snail mail of merriment that comes my way every December and decided to turn my kitchen into a museum of family and friends by hanging the fabulously festive cards on my cabinets.

Display

Holiday happiness on display.

Here’s what you’ll need for this most uncomplicated of decorating projects:

Goods

Scissors, your choice of ribbon, mini clothes pins and packing tape.

Mothership

I found my pink sparklers at Target for $3.00. Score!

First you need to measure the ribbon around the cabinet door and then tape each end of the ribbon down.

measure, cut, tape

Giving Martha Stewart a run for her money, I know.

The ribbon can stand alone as simple decor.

K-ute alone

Sprucing up the most mundane area of my mini manse.

But once your ribbon is filled with friendly faces, fur balls and off spring, you’ll want to open every cabinet door in the kitchen daily.

or covered in cards from loved one.s

Tempted to leave up year round…

Happy wrapping!
CBXB

CBXB!

 

How Many Drunks Does it Take to Hang Wallpaper?

What seems like more fun after a few cocktails than trying to conquer a wallpapering project?

It’s what all the cool kids do on a Friday night, right?

Right?

Fun times

Happy and Happier about to embark on tasks better left to the sober.

While I was perusing my mothership Target last week, I discovered peel and stick wallpaper that stopped me dead in my tracks (the cart actually made screeching sound).

All the pretty paper

How could I refrain from the fabulousness?

You see, I have a pretty drab (i.e. not gaudy enough for me) wall that is screaming for some sprucing up in my mini manse and for $30, I could chevron the shit out of the bland area.

Ho hum wall.

No worries – help is coming by way of two drunks!

I was able to coerce my handy buddy Camo after a couple of Skinny Pirates at our local watering hole into hanging (of course the poor guy believed me when I said I’d help) the cool new decor I’d found.

Here are the supplies you will need:

Captain Morgan (or libation of your choice)

Wallpaper (we suggest peel and stick)

Scissors (leopard print cuts better)

Tape measure (to hopefully watch someone else use)

Razor blade (just in case things don’t work out)

Supplies

Winning with supplies.

You will also need one pissy pussy to assist as project manager.

Plus one grounch project manager who just wnated to cuddle

Someone is miffed that wallpapering comes before cuddling.

After removing the mirror, I documented the transformation as Camo carefully laid the first piece of paper with ease.

Watch Document

He’s hired.

Ted dictated our his every move.

Watch  Supervise

Overbearing authority.

Camo had everything under control until I saw bubbles forming underneath my wall sticker.

Wrinkles be damned!

Wrinkles be damned!

Then in between sips of Skinny Pirates, I got my paws on the stuff and wrinkled it into a crumbly mess.

Made worse by yours truly WRinkle ruiner

CBXB wallpaper fail.

After I managed to single-handedly thwart any and all wallpapering attempts, Camo suggested a paint job which I thought sounded like a genius idea as I could sit and watch document for this post.

Drunk painting party!

Drunk painting party!

Supervising

My arms got tired taking pictures.

And after all of the nonsense, the wall turned out pretty damn perfect.

Tah-Dah!

Tah-Dah!

So obviously two drunks don’t make a wallpapering right.

But what would happen if one went at it alone?

Second round of tools

Supplies for one, round two.

Bound and determined I was going to get this damn wallpaper up in my mini manse if it was the last thing I ever did, another boring wall was selected for me to manhandle.

Blah

My prey.

Rolling out the chevron sticker in my kitchen kinda made me wish this was a rug (wine makes the mind wander, doesn’t it?).

Chevron carpet

Mesmerized by measuring.

Once I thought the wallpaper was ready to go up, I quickly had to stop and guzzle a glass of vino as the fucking wrinkles, bubbles and creases reared their ugly heads again.

Not so much...same outcome, different night?

Why is this happening? WHY?!

Upon using wine as an alternative to Xanax, I calmly kept forging ahead in my not-so-perfect project because by God this was going to work.

After two hours of cussing, sweating, swearing, drinking and fighting through the urge to burn the wallpaper, the stars suddenly aligned and my luck turned a corner for the better.

As I stepped back to admire my minor accomplishment, I had a feeling I’d soon be known as a world-renowned wallpaper hanger upper.

Nope!

One drunk = a wallpaper success!

Until I got a little closer for a look at remaining imperfections from the sloppy installer.

Don't look too close

Too bad you can’t Botox walls.

Upon taking a further step back, I realized the job was lacking something pretty major…

Completion.

Half assed from one drunk

Half-assed wallpapering at its finest.

Maybe three drunks will be my lucky charm?

I’ll keep you posted.
CBXB

CBXB!

How to Hide Dirty Laundry

Looking for a new mini manse last month, there were a few very important priorities I kept in mind. I wanted to stay within my zip code (which is the 90210 of Nashville – but don’t go thinking I’m a classy, rich gal – click here to read about how I manage to trash up the area – fabulously of course. My previous place was more on the Skid Row side of Nashville’s Beverly Hills…and now I scored a place on the outskirts – I’m so moving up), I wanted to stay in a perimeter where my favorite watering hole Dalts, delivers food (seriously, this is what I was considering) and I required a laundry area within the walls of my residence (THE HORROR of having to revert to coins and carrying dirty clothes to and from a laundry mat after all these years of being spoiled by having machines in my duplex).

While other folks who are moving consider school systems, safety of neighborhoods and the overall atmosphere of an apartment complex, I was worried about how close I am to my favorite bar, whether or not I can maintain my prestigious (in my mind) zip code and the ability to clean clothes in my new mini manse. Shallow much? (At least I’m honest). So you can imagine my delight when I signed a lease to a new place that met all three of my requirements. Now I just needed a washer and dryer…

Woohoo!

My new laundry wing. Woohoo!

My washing quarters fit snuggly in this cozy bathroom – which is probably about as big as a jail cell.

Combo bathroom/laundry wing

Triple duty! A shitter, shower AND laundry wing.

There was one teeny, tiny problem.ย  As the washer and dryer I acquired from a friend at work sat on a truck in my parking lot awaiting their new home, my buddies moving me in didn’t think they would fit after viewing (and measuring – why would I have thought to measure?! Aren’t all appliances the same size? Being blonde is hard work.) the space. Mother f’er.

Enter Dad – the ever constant hero in my life.ย  He did some research, found an alternative to a gargantuan dryer vent and remeasured to be sure that the twosome I longed for would fit into my naked laundry wing. Once again my work buddies (who are probably loving to hate me and anything having to do with the word move) came back with the appliances…carrying them down ten stairs, taking the bathroom door off its hinges to get them in the minute space and sliding them into their new home (zero profanity was used during this time).

They fit! Except now one of the f’ing doors won’t slide shut.

They fit. Except now the f'ing door won't shut.

Why do dryers have to be so fat?

Tiny spaces

And what design genius put three doors in this tiny space?!

So problem solver Dad took the door off its hinges, which almost had me in tears, as I am OCD about things looking perfect. How could I ask company to sit on a toilet and gaze at my duct tape, modge podge, tools (I don’t know how to use) and dirty laundry?

Door expert

Door expert.

Seeing the look on my face, my dad immediately realized the situation was dire (to me). I mean, look at the door behind the toilet…

Whole lotta crammin' going on.

Whole lotta crammin’ going on.

Trying to avert the water damn about to break from my eyeballs (I’m typically not this dramatic but it’d been a tough week/month/year and this goddamn washer/dryer seemed like the world to me at that exact moment), Dad suggested I clean the junk up off the floor (while he cooled off with a cocktail) before permanently placing the dryer in its new digs – which ended up being a five step process due to the size of the bathroom.

Remnants

Remnants of last tenants…eww gross.

I got a workout hoisting the vacuum up on the dryer just so I could slide myself into the room and shut the door.

puhlease

Could we please put one more thing in this 6 x 6 room?

Once the cleaning device was in, I had to climb on top of the washer (due to my overly ample derriere) to maneuver the nozzle on the vacuum in the corners of the floor. Who knew I was an acrobat?

Squeeze

No room for big butts.

All of that climbing and cleaning cleared my mind for a moment of clarity in this blonde brain. I can’t have doors on my laundry wing…but what about a shower curtain? Dad and I hopped in the car and headed for my mothership…Target.

Target to the rescue!

My favorite red and white bullseye to the rescue!

After a quick trip and $30 for a shower curtain, rod and rings, my door problems were solved. No one was going to get to wonder what the hell is crammed in all of my closet bins while doing their business.

Shelves

Pay no attention to the junk behind the curtain…

In all of three minutes, the finishing touches were accomplished.

Laundry wing complete

No doors? No problem.

All thanks to CBXB’s own personal Mr. Fix It.

Once again, a hero! I'll give you three guesses to his top favorite sports teams.

I’ll give you one guess to his top three favorite sports teams.

Need your own laundry wing tweaked? I’ll lend this guy out – but it’s gonna cost you.

Probably just a Skinny Pirate or two. Wait, make that a bottle (or three) of Captain.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

99 Problems and a Man Ain’t One

Has anyone involved with a man ever been able to add this statement to their vocabulary? Highly doubtful.

Last night while out and about, I think I found a cure for problems with the male species: Training Treats for Boyfriends (there are also treats for husbands but they were all out at the store…wonder why?!).

The tag line reads, “If you think your boyfriend is a dream but he sometimes makes you want to scream, you can turn him into the perfect man using the simple training treats plan.”

blah

Trained to perfection?

And here’s what this product promises to accomplish…

Hello!

From totally geek to totally chic.

If they’d had a training treat box for diva felines, I would have snatched one up and given it a whirl on Ted (just to see if he’d set still and let me paint his claws).ย  And while I left the single remaining boyfriend box sitting on the shelf, it dawned on me that there were no training treats for females.

Is that because we’re perfect specimens or was the store sold out?

CBXB

CBXB!