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 Pirates 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

 

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.

Holiday happiness on display.

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

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

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.

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

The ribbon can stand alone as simple decor.

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.

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.

Holiday happiness on display.

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

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

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.

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

The ribbon can stand alone as simple decor.

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.

Tempted to leave up year round…

Happy wrapping!
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?

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).

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.

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)

Winning with supplies.

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

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.

He’s hired.

Ted dictated our his every move.

Overbearing authority.

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

Wrinkles be damned!

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

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!

My arms got tired taking pictures.

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

Tah-Dah!

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

But what would happen if one went at it alone?

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.

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?).

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.

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.

One drunk = a wallpaper success!

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

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 wallpapering at its finest.

Maybe three drunks will be my lucky charm?

I’ll keep you posted.
CBXB