The Man, The Myth, The Birthday Legend

Oh dads.

If you are lucky enough to have one or have had one in your life, then you win. A familiar fixture on this blog and in my life, my dad celebrates his day of birth (along with his twin!) today. Aunt Crazy Pants once doled out advice that I didn’t think much of at the time when I was younger. She said (during some stupid crazy boy drama, no doubt) “No man will ever love you the way your dad loves you.”

This didn’t really dawn on me until I was an “adult” (a term I use for myself extremely loosely these days) and a dude I was living with said to me, “I can’t treat you like your dad treats you.”

BOY BYE.

I guess I never had to think about it because of the jackpot I scored when my dad chose to be mine. A knight in shining (well, in his case probably rusty) armour. A frugal on the allowance guy whose driving abilities were always affected by how loudly the radio was playing in unknown territory (TURN DOWN Q.102 GIRLS WE’RE IN DES MOINES!). A dad who commuted four hours daily to work but rarely missed an extra curricular activity. A dude who could scare boyfriends shitless with his size but is actually a giant, goofy Teddy Bear.

A father who not only duct taped my glasses together in the third grade (hence the short-lived nickname “Ducky”) but also uses the same magic to keep my bumper adhered to your car as an “adult”.

A dad who tells you to “tough it up” when you’re sitting in the superintendent’s office, holding a bloody chin after being hit in the face with a baseball bat during PE but remains strong and silent decades later when he’s driving you to the hospital after being raped.

So yeah, Aunt Crazy Pants and her advice rings true – best of luck to a dude ever living up to The Man, The Myth, My Legend.

As we celebrate the Big Fella today, please join me as I share some of the valuable…

LESSONS FROM MY LEGEND


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You should always have your family’s back…

bl

       … even if they often attack.

Throw your hands up in the air…

wave

…and wave them like I just don’t care.

Even if you’re a dork inside…

...without my shades.

                                              

…it’s no matter if you’re cool on the outside.

The art of muscle blowing is unique.

blow

                       Passed down to generations…

and

                                              … and generations …

still

…to upkeep.

Pink isn’t just for girls…

flex

…guys often put the color on for a whirl.

Sequins should be in my everyday attire…

love

     … as you gave me the first bedazzled top I ever acquired.

It’s OK to stand out in a crowd…

Dada C-Note

…just be sure to do it loud and proud.

Giving is better than receiving…

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…except when you let your three year old open your gift to be appeasing. 

The importance of slathering on sunscreen daily…

very

                      …just be sure to not get too crazy.

The significance of jazz hands…

was

…often help when making demands.

It’s not a road trip…

check

…unless you have rot gut vodka and your finger to mix.

Reminding me there’s more than one fish in the sea…

fish

                …especially whenever a boy has been mean to me.

Being the life of the party…

never

                                          …is like leading one big…

                                                            …fun army.

The duo that shoots shots together…

Wild Turkey

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Stays together.

…stays together.

It’s important to share…

at the

                 …even while pigging out at the Iowa State Fair.

It’s OK to relax…

after

…after a day has been crap.

You’ve carried me through physical hard times…

broken foot

         

broken ankle

…even if sometimes it was from too much self-inflicted wine.

Tipping my Skinny Pirates when my nails are drying…

treat

                         

…because you know there’s a silver lining.

Most importantly, not all heroes wear capes…

Not all

…just dads who pick us up no matter our proverbial scrapes. 

So let us all raise our glasses today…

cheers!

…and cheers your birthday away!

Those are just a few of my lessons from…

happy

 The Man. The Myth. The Legend.

Happy Birthday Dada!

CBXB

CBXB!

One More Time, Mom

My beloved Aunt Crazy Pants passed away after a valiant fight against terminal lung cancer (after never smoking a goddamn cigarette in her life). By the time cancer was found through an unrelated surgery, it had already spread everywhere but her brain and she was given six months to a year to live last summer. Well, being a feisty little bitch, she survived with cancer 370 days.

Beat cancer for five extra days. Suck it.

Family and friends gathered to give life stealing cancer the middle finger, celebrating ACP with her favorite cocktails of Gin Rickeys, Black Velvet and margaritas.

Gin Rickeys all around.

Sharing stories of peeing our pants over shit she would say or do (when she literally shit her pants – like during a shopping trip at Target with her mom once. I just got an eye roll (sorry Gma) and a belly laugh (you’re welcome ACP) from the sky), witnessing tears running down her leg from laughing so hard and generally remembering the spirit this woman, mother, daughter, sister, crazy fun aunt and loyal friend to countless people sprinkled throughout our lives.

To say there’s a hole in my soul doesn’t do it justice, as my aunt was like a mother to me and I take after her in many lovely ways.

What I do know is:

I will carry on her klutziness (I fell into her closet after getting out of her bed the day after the funeral).

We also ruin phones the same. She dropped hers in a toilet, I run my over with cars. It’s a special talent.

I carry her ability to get tongue tied at any given moment (I asked a male co-worker at a new job if “these are the size of rubbers you wanted” – I forgot the word band after rubber).

Did I seriously say that?!

I have the ease of her unabashed bluntness and no fear of confrontation (she deemed me the biggest bitch of the family before she passed. I know, so sweet).

Wanna hear it or not, we tell it like it is.

I will honor her by eating double what I normally do during trips to the Iowa State Fair.

Two for me.

Being a crazy aunt is something I’m already all over.

Or rather, they’re all over me.

I was born with her dramatic flair for life, so that torch was lit long ago within me.

Jazz hands for life.

While it’s important to remember that when someone may no longer be among us on earth, our relationship with them can still exist, it’s also important to remember the quality of life given during an especially grueling battle with cancer. ACP’s youngest son R. Nasty made sacrifices I can’t say many young adults his age – let alone any adult – would do to care for his dying mother. I mean before being diagnosed with cancer, she was already the most dramatic woman on the planet (like bitching about “having” to pack to go to Hawaii – or any other fabulous destination…yeah, poor thing), so you can imagine the sheer joy the magnification of her theatrics became.

Flair for fun dramatics.

R. Nasty moved in with his mom (all young men’s dream come true) being closest in proximity and able to make accommodations to do so, while his other brothers and extended family lived further away.

All other Bros and Hos live far away.

He answered every time she hollered with a patient, “yes Mother,” sauntered into her room after every bell ring (a sound that will surely haunt him for the rest of his days), removed an ice cube each time he accidentally put four instead of three into her water and endless other duties that come along with caring for a cancer patient.

The true meaning of ‘got your back’.

My point is, this dude is a fucking saint. Throughout all the treatment routines, doctor’s appointments, therapy, surgeries, etc, ACP’s absolute favorite time was watching The Late Show with Stephen Colbert with R. Nasty every weeknight. Even if she dozed off in the evening as she got more cancer riddled, she wanted to be woken up to watch Stephen Colbert with her son.

Wake me up before you go go!

In the evening on August 31, 2017 my feisty aunt was taken from home hospice to the hospital. That night, as the end was drawing near, the room full of family was clearing out and R. Nasty leaned in and said, “We’re going to watch Stephen Colbert one more time, Mom.” And that they did. She died at 3am on Friday, September 1st, 2017.

While we’ve partied in every way possible in honor of Aunt Crazy Pants’ love of life, I’d like to acknowledge the sacrifices her son made so selflessly. When asked about it he always says (and still does), “it’s my honor to take care of my mother.”

                 

I hope my cats step up to the plate like that for me when the time comes.

Yeah…I’m fucked.

Cheers to the craziest fun aunt I got to call mine. We all miss you something terrible.

Life already isn’t the same.

I love you.

CBXB

 

My 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 two years 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.

To celebrate what would have been her 94 birthday today, an ode to my Gma the great!

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…

PastedGraphic-1

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

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I learned from the best…

Image 16

…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.

IMG_1349

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

IMG_4888

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

IMG_4873

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.

IMG_3760

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

IMG_4858

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

IMG_4893

So it was with glasses and confidence that I superseded…

photo 3

…the grace and confidence that you always heeded.

IMG_4892

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.

Image 12

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

Image 42

…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.

photo 1

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

Image 19

…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.

Image 1

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

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…without you as my shining rock star.

Love and miss you Gma.

CBXB!

Griswold Family Style Fourth of July

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

 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

Here’s hoping your version of the Griswolds has a safe and booze filled 4th.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Fa-La-La-La-Pussy Pageant

Is there anything better than a Christmas pageant?

Growing up, my sister and I were forced couldn’t wait to deck out in our finest holiday threads and put on the white trashiest show we could muster for our Gma and Gpa Morris.

Finest production in all of Southwestern Iowa.

Finest production in all of Southwestern Iowa. Paper beard and all.

Due to the fact that I’ve chosen not to create spawn from my own loins, I look to carry on this particular family tradition with main fur ball squeeze, Mr. Ted E. Bear. He’s grown into having a real knack for knowing when to hit notes on cue.

Falalala

Known for fur balls, meows in the middle of the night and Christmas caroling.

The newest members of our brood, however, could give two shits about partaking in the singing festivities. Either that or Ted has forced suggested he remain the one and only star of the 2016 Pussy Pageant.

Better

Choosing to nap over caroling. Ted’s got this covered.

As far as my little chug goes…

cute

Precious is far too busy looking cute and snotting all over her bed to be bothered with singing.

Therefore, please enjoy “Deck the Tree,” sung to you by my favorite pussy in the entire world, Mr. Ted E. Bear.

Image 1

Ahem.

Deck the tree if you can move me

Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

Image 4

‘Tis the Season to be curious

Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

Curiosity

Move me and I’ll claw your eyes out

Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!

DON'T

Troll the same box I see every single year

Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

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See the blazing pink before me

Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

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Watch me almost catch on fire

Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

Helps check all the bulbs

Break for naps, merriment is exhausting

Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

Moose mug break

Soak in all the glittery glory

Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

Admiring his hard work

I’m the only star in this joint

Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

Glitter tastes so good

I just found my newest chew toy

Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

Hate the star

Eliminate all other feline competition

Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

IMG_2349

Remind your mom that you’re her one and only…

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FA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA!

You’re welcome for your new favorite Christmas caroler.

CBXB

CBXB!

Cheers to a full tank.

p.s. – only 13 more days to Fuck Yeah 2017!

 

In Heaven There is No Beer…

It’s the most wonderful time of the year (aside from my birthday, Ted’s birthday, Christmas and the Iowa State Fair)!

IMG_7503

The white trash classiness that is my life continues as another season of college football kicks off this weekend!

My dad and I started a tradition a few years ago to celebrate every touchdown that our favorite college football team, the Iowa Hawkeyes, scored with a shot of moonshine (this way no matter what the outcome of the game, you can have fun – even if your team sucks – which is how this lovely tradition began. Unless they score nothing of course, and if that’s the case, get a new team).

First shot of the season.

First shot of the season feels so good!

Our freezer stash of Popcorn Sutton’s Tennessee White Whiskey is prepped and ready to go for the season opener.

Iced

Chic shenanigans await.

Problem is this year, Dada CBXB is heading up to see my fave duo on the planet as I type, so we’ll have to resort to our trashtacular tradition via Facetime, which we’ve already mastered in years past.

Miles schmiles.

Miles schmiles.

Being that the Hawks were 12-0 in the regular season last year, we hope our liver tolerance remains in tact for alcohol that makes chest hair grow whether you like it or not. While we’ll be celebrating apart, we have everything we need to round out the first college game day.

Double fisting at its finest.

Double fisting at its finest.

W-I-N.

Who’s with us?

CBXB

CBXB!

Dumb and Crazy Dumber

Folks often tell me that I act like my aunt Crazy Pants (I mean obvies, look at the jazz hands!).

The past few years for both of us have been nothing but a shit show (to put it mildly0 and she has been dealt yet another large blow in the last few days. Due to the fact that she’s spunky, with a ‘fuck this shit’ attitude (yeah, we’re waaaaay similar), reality is what it is and we’ll deal.

We could be known as Thelma and Louise (but we’re not as cool and fabulous – we wouldn’t drive off a cliff on purpose, we’d do it because we were lost and missed a turn) although we more often times resemble Lucy and Ethel (on our best days) but in reality we can most identify with Dumb and Dumber.

Crazy!

Crazy times two.

Of all of the things we have in common, we share a love of Jell-O shots which are a staple at every family gathering (classy, I know) and party I throw.

Jello Love

Jell-O shots = Love

I mean we really love the spiked gelatin.

oving Jell-O maybe a little too much.

Like really, really, really love.

Down the hatch. How many?

Especially with whipped cream.

Our consumption of Jell-O shots makes us both more limber (until we wake up the next morning and can’t move).

Jell-O makes us limber

Who doesn’t do a leg lift after a bit of J-E-L-L-O?

Hey-o! Almost to the toes!

Hey-o! Jell-O makes me stretch almost to my toes!

However, I do not ever try to do tricks with my shots of liquor. There’s too much risk that it won’t make it to my mouth, which in my mind would be a travesty.

She can shoot Jell-O with no hands!

She can shoot Jell-O with no hands!

Or can she?

But really, she can’t.

Can't. Stop. Laughing. At. Her. Or, I mean with. WITH HER.

Can’t. stop. laughing. at. Aunt Crazy Pants. Errr, I mean with. Laughing WITH HER.

Upon making sure that whipped cream was ground into my carpet (thus I will not be getting my deposit back), Aunt Crazy Pants decided to go on a path of destruction in my mini manse by taking her tipsy ass into my beloved dressing room.

Fave room in my mini manse...

What CBXB does with extra bedrooms.

This wing of my mini manse is home to my two shoe towers (and no, I still don’t have too many shoes Dad and yes folks, I do wear all of them).

Tower of Shoes

Wall of bliss.

Admiring my collection

Even Ted admires my collection daily.

All was well in my closet kingdom until this tiny bull walked into my sparkly china shop and decided to trip into one of my towers that was bolted to the wall. The shelving quickly turned into a leaning tower of shoes, as it had about six inches in between the wall and the back of the racks.

Bag of Crazy

Apparently, the whipped cream on her glasses obstructed her view.

We then had to call in Camo during our girls night in to put a temporary band aid on the problem so we wouldn’t be making any trips to the emergency room with stories of shoe boxes falling onto our heads.

Closet hero

Closet hero.

Saving the Closet

I’m a big help, I know.

Crazy Pants can kiss my ass.

Think HGTV will come calling due to my mad holding skills?

When Camo was rewarded with a beer, Aunt Crazy Pants tried to show her gratitude by mauling him.

Mauling. Part 1.

Manhandling, Part 1.

Mauling Part 2.

Manhandling Part 2.

Make it stop. No seriously, make it stop.

Make the manhandling stop. No seriously, make it stop. Somebody muzzle her.

L-Dawg came in to save the day (and Camo’s dignity) by wrangling Crazy Pants with a dish towel.

L-Dawg wrangled Crazy Pants

Making sure no more Jell-O shots spill and Aunt CP stays in her seat.

For the next eight minutes, all was good in my mini manse hood until this happened….

Down the hatch.

Down the Crazy Pant hatch.

There was no turning back once she was out of Jell-O shots, so we put a boa on her and made her dance (and we have videos to prove it).

After the finishing shots, there was no wrangling her. So we put a boa on and made her dance.

Dumb and Dumber at our dancing finest.

I’m happy to report that the mini manse is still standing. But I’m certain that’s due to the fact that Aunt Crazy Pants went home.

Although now that’s she’s home, we need good juju, fabulous magic, positive vibes, abundant karma – and for anyone who lives close enough, margaritas delivered to her house.

Cheers to Aunt Crazy Pants!

You are so loved.

CBXB

CBXB!