Weekend Winks – Catfish, Cuteness and Cocktails

No matter your job or career, there’s something about that Friday feeling that gets most of us nine to five folks giddily gearing up for the weekend ahead.

Rocky nailed it.

Fridays always call for cocktails in my book and I was lucky enough to partake in the very divine avocado margaritas (sound disgusting, beyond delish) at a local restaurant called Avo. It’s a fabulous vegan place that even carnivores  (me)can love.

Double fisting at its finest.

I have a love/hate relationship with the social media “remember this from a year ago” shit they drudge up daily. But this time, I was loving the reminder on Instagram.

From toddlers to kids in the blink of an eye.

While my Iowa twins are a ways away from 21, that doesn’t stop the party from taking place around the time of a typical happy hour for Princess B (remind you of anyone else you know?).

No problems with happy hours here.

While it was juice galore for my princess, Prince B was pretty much trying out to be a Harlem Globetrotter.

Is the player that short or is Prince B that tall?

He’s a serious athlete in the making and I can’t wait to yell, make a scene, cheer from the stands like the appropriately embarrassing aunt I will never cease to be.

I cannot wait to wear his jersey.

In other sports related news, my Nashville Predators hockey team is in the first round of the Stanley Cup playoffs. So I did what any good sports fan does and got gussied up in my finest attire. Nashville’s non-official ‘mascot’ is a catfish because inevitably at the start of any game, a fan always throws a catfish on the ice. Now there is a tank full of catfish at the arena (these catfish are only for viewing pleasure, not to be thrown on the ice, FYI).

Gussied up in my Preds gear.

It was a girl gang-a-palooza watching party at a local joint, The Centennial, in the Nations area of Nashville.

Girl gang in full force.

Van Waffles had the pleasure of being our mascot for the evening. I don’t think he minded being the ring leader of us gaggle of gals.

Van Waffles and the resident clown.

The hockey game got exciting, as it went into overtime. When I glanced over at First Mate, she’d added a Preds hat and brought her towel out of her purse to further encourage our team’s win.

Stealth accessory adder.

First Mate undoubtedly looked adorable in her additional giddy up, which proved to help our Preds because they won in overtime. Meanwhile, I had a hard time putting on an accessory otherwise known as a windbreaker.

Blame it on a big head or being blonde?

Winding down Sunday, a little hair of the dog action was necessary while watching Tiger Woods come back out of his 11 year slump. I’m way too loud for golf but it’s easy to get caught up in the hype of excitement with an event so big.

The Pussy Posse could have given two fucks about the Masters, so they had a snuggle party in bed instead.

Snugglemania.

After not watching the insanely hyped Game of Thrones debut (I haven’t seen but the first episode where a brother has sex with a sister and they push a boy out of a castle window, so I don’t get why every.single.person I know is in love with this series but to each their own). Instead, I ended the weekend the way I always do.

Bubblicioius.

Cheers!

CBXB!

 

The Bonanza

Being that I’ve taken the last three years off from celebrating much of anything, it.was.on. for my birthday this year. For those of you unaware (I have no fucking idea how you couldn’t if you read this blog very often at all), my day of gracing this planet with my presents presence is exactly three months after Christmas. And frankly, I had so much fun this year, I may just start my birthday countdown December 26. Sorry. Not sorry.

My big time celebrating did start about a week prior to the actual day because my Iowa peeps were in Nashville for their spring break.

Birthday Sandwich.

Sister CBXB, being the foodie that she is, kept saying she was my amuse bouche (which in French literally translates to mouth amuser….It’s OK, I live in the south) to my birthday. Since I frequent more hip chain style casual dining restaurants of the likes of Chili’s, I had to look the term up. Amuse bouche is served at fancy restaurants before any orders are placed to prepare diners of the chef’s style. Next time at Dalts I’m going to ask for an amuse bouche with a side of ranch before my first Skinny Pirate.

The amuse bouche of my birthday!

We went to a fabulous restaurant called Husk, where we were on a three-way (again, fine due to my region of residence) text with my foodie bro-in-law back in Iowa.  He is an expert on ordering, knows what we like to eat, drink and guzzle.

Husk Hooch.

Naturally, when two corn-fed sisters saw cornbread on the menu, it was a must.

We hated it.

Aside from the beyond our wildest dreams cornbread we wanted to stuff into our purses for a snack later, we feasted on fried dilly tomatoes with pimento cheese, chicken, steak and more cocktails, of course. BIL informed us that this was all created under Chef Brock who is on the new season of Chef’s Table on Netflix.

We so fancy.

I carried the fancy on to the Mumford and Sons concert Sister CBXB took me to after supper. I carefully selected my concert t-shirt (a must whenever I see a live show) and then promptly put it on.

Yes. I’m that girl.

My sister put her t-shirt on right away too because siblings stick together. After getting cocktails that cost more than I’m paid per hour, we sat to watch the opening act. As we were chit chatting about how lights and speakers are hung (I used to work in music production) a man in front of us was apparently on a first fucking Match.com date and asked us to be quiet. Then his date piped in and said she, “paid good money for these tickets.”

You can imagine how that went.

Take your shhhh! and shove it up your ass.

Ahmahzing sold out show.

Mumford and Sons not only sold out the Bridgestone Arena, they also broke the record for attendance tipping the people meter at over 19,000.

The following evening, First Mate further assisted me out of my culinary comfort zone and took me to a new Indian restaurant in Nashville called Chaatable. Every time I think of Indian food, I see Ben Stiller sweating (then shitting) his brains out in the movie Along Came Polly.

Beauty and her birthday Beast.

You guys, this restaurant was beyond. I didn’t sweat or shit myself (surprisingly) while dining here. The food was insane good to the point where I wanted to lick my butter chicken bowl clean (I may have).

All. the. yes.

There are 80,000 Indian bracelets used as a central piece of the art in the restaurant. Now I need one of these in the Mini Manse, of course.

Bracelet bonanza.

The eve of my birthday consisted of wine, cats, cuddles and DVR.

Purrrrfection.

On my birthday, I woke up with all four of my pussies in the bed, contemplating having a ‘sick’ day from work since my birthday fell on a Monday. However, that would have been a grave mistake on my part.

Well wishes came in all kinds of styles starting with handmade cards from the twins…

…to insane crazy sweet text messages…

…to appropriate memes sent to me throughout the day.

It looked like Christmas morning at my desk upon my arrival to work. From wine, to pink icing covered donuts, to lunch with coworkers at my fave Dalts to cake in the afternoon, the day did not suck.

Spoiled beyond.

Here I thought it would be a slight bummer having my birthday fall on the first day of the work week but boy, was I mistaken.

After a short work day (I have the best boss), I met First Mate for rosé at 51st Taproom.

Rosé all birthday.

Then it was on to a Mexican fiesta with Mama CBXB and Rasta for more vino, accompanied by some cheese dip and 4,961 chips. And then, my mom’s family famous O’Henry bars for a birthday treat.

Janie’s Junk just for me.

Due to the fact that I had years of celebrating to make up for, I welcomed wishes and reminders all week.

Double DUH.

My TGIF birthday night was another fabulous dining experience for me. Van Waffles took me to the Marsh House at the Thompson Hotel in the Gulch area of Nashville. Another menu for me to text my BIL and sister, who guided me through the ordering process of cocktails, BBQ shrimp (fucking killer) and Mahi.

The Marsh House mania.

The experience was so divine, it was dizzying.

Best photographer ever.

Saturday, Van Waffles spoiled me further by cooking a fabulously kick ass meal at the Mini Manse. I have no idea what all was in it aside from salmon and noodles but it all went into my belly. I also had no idea my kitchen functioned properly for which it was intended (not just extra storage in the oven).

THIS. WAS. MADE. IN. MY. KITCHEN.

Further spoiling came from all over the globe. I woke up on Sunday to this sweet message from my buddy, Stevie, who lives in Australia. We’ve yet to meet in person but it seems like we’ve been friends for years. Because we have been friends on social media. Isn’t that fun?

The awesome didn’t stop, as I made my way to Dalts for a much-needed hair of the dog on my day of rest.

Then capped off by my favorite relaxing ritual.

Birthday bubbles.

All in all, this was one of my best birthdays that I can remember. So much so, that I won’t ever be taking three years off from celebrating again.

Cheers until next year!

Thanks for all of the love. I love you right back.

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Wink – The Luckiest Girl

It’s that time of year that green is all around us in Nashville as a welcomed sight. The grass, the leaves and this past weekend, the hue of celebrating the patron saint of Ireland, Patrick.

I met up with one of my former band mates, Keys, and we had a fun catch up lunch at my fave watering hole, Dalts.

Old friends make me a lucky gal.

Friends of yesteryear also keep me company with kind words and support he’s always throwing behind me.

I had a guest coming over for supper (oh, we will get into this supper vs. dinner debate at a later date) Friday evening and I hadn’t made my Lazy Lasagna (or anything that didn’t simply require a microwave heat up) in…well, I can’t remember when. Naturally, I acted like I was concocting an eight course meal, when really I was just layering ingredients.

Slaving away for supper.

Lucky for me, it turned out in my favor.

Once the lasagna was baked and in my belly, I promptly took a 16 hour nap, gearing up for the weekend festivities.

Pot of gold kickers.

In celebration of the season, I’d gussied up my pink tinsel Christmas Celebration tree and sat to enjoy my Saturday spiked coffee in front of it.

Lucky tree.

Perk Me Up.

Meeting up with friends for the celebration of Irish culture did not make for a dull time.

Lucky ladies.

I’m gonna need these hearts in pink for daily use.

We saw nothing but green until we started to consume cocktails of the day’s hue.

The Queen of green Jell-O shots…

.. might have had me seeing black and white.

While I was busy with Shamrock Shenanigans, my Iowa twins were road tripping down South.

Lucky they’re on their way to see me!

My neck aches for them.

It’s hard to remember just how little these two nuggets were a mere three years ago.

Time flies with twinning fun.

Three years later and still the cutest two shits I know.

Speaking of shits, I’m lucky to know the most fun one in all of Iowa City. My buddy N8 never misses a chance to morph into the best leprechaun every year.

Lucky leaning tower of green.

On Sunday, the actual day of Saint Patrick, I met up with First Mate for a gulp of our favorite boxed rosé. Although we didn’t get the green dye for to properly mark the occasion, we made do.

Pink and green are the perfect pairing.

It was so fabulous outside, we couldn’t resist a patio where Van Waffle asked me to take his picture. The fucking nerve.

My thoughts on being the photographer vs. the model.

All in all, the weekend of sunny skies, fabulous company and fun made me feel like the luckiest girl. Although, what makes my world go round always takes my lucky cake…

Lucky fur mama.

Here’s hoping a little luck comes your way this week.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – Cocktails, Crocs and Kindness

There are some weeks that seem 14 days long and Friday couldn’t have gotten here soon enough. Nashville has been plagued with rain and dreary skies for the last month (not to bitch too much because I know it’s been earth shatteringly freezing above the Mason Dixon Line).

Once the work week was behind me, my gal pal Rasta came over for a little girl’s night in. She’s been under the weather since the holidays and is finally feeling better.

Jazz hands for happy health.

I’ve been cheating on The Pussy Posse with my side hustle, which is pet sitting. I can’t say I don’t love it because look at these faces…

Princess Purr-A-Lot.

Some definite puppy love going on.

Rocco the dog lives in an apartment complex and while I was dropping in on him, I could not help but notice the pile up of shoes at his neighbor’s place. The first visit I just glanced and thought they must have had company. The second visit I noticed that a pair were fucking Croc style knock-offs that were camouflage. I mean, please.

No. Just no.

Some dude actually wears those motherfuckers.

When I posted on my Insta about the in my opinion abhorrent shoes, I received messages with excuses examples of why people have them. My favorite response was that I should burn them to help the guy out. Slappy takes the cake because she has a matching pair with her husband – BUT only for outdoor purposes and they aren’t camo, so that’s OK?

Oh, Slappy….

My Iowa twins spent some much deserved time in Mexican sun after a winter with temperatures bottoming out at -52 degrees.

Riding back to Iowa…

They went from sunny and 80 degrees to about 12 degrees in two hours. Their vehicle needed pushing assistance from helpful Samaritans upon their landing back in Iowa.

Back to the snow.

Just as active as ever, they went from horse back riding to drive way ice skating in a day’s time.

Personal skating rink.

While they were outside burning through energy, their cousin was watching the Nashville Predators all the way in Iowa. Cheering for the yellow team because yours truly likes them. How fucking cute is that?

GO YELLOW TEAM!

So many decisions needed to be made on my behalf regarding Saturday night because I had been properly asked out to supper. I haven’t been out – really out – since Rapegate and this was a fabulous sign that I was excited. I was excited I was excited which means there’s been some major healing on the forefront.

To platform or to platform?

We went to a fabulous foodie restaurant called Husk. Being that I am a frequent guest of lower status restaurants, I had to enlist in the help of Sister CBXB and BIL to guide me with choices, as Husk’s menu changes daily.

I am officially a fucking foodie. Between the crafted cocktails and quality of the meal, I feel like Chili’s isn’t going to be a place I frequent as often.

Never have I ever seen catfish so pretty.

First Mate ended up meeting us out after supper and I stayed all snuggled up on her sofa. Because neither of us can (or like) to cook, she spoiled me with coffee and Bubly the next morning.

Sunday morning two-for-one.

These two knuckleheads were up and at ’em early making the most of their day of rest (which honestly, I don’t think these kids ever rest and relax unless they are asleep in bed).

One version of Sunday Funday.

My version of Sunday Funday.

While enjoying my bloody mary at Dalts, I was recalling the time shortly after Rapegate began, I received a package from a reader when I arrived one Friday night. It was from a complete stranger who knew I frequented my favorite watering hole and contained the sweetest note of encouragement and a bottle of Captain Morgan Private Stock. Funny that this then popped up in my Facebook memories last night.

Speaking of sweet surprises, I received a package with the most purrfect for me present inside.

Truth.

You guys spoil me beyond and know just when a gal needs a smile. Thank you T. Ratt for thinking of me and gifting me my now favorite shirt.

Speaking of faves, you know that Princess B is basically morphing into her crazy aunt.

So many colors. So little time.

Except she has me drooling with envy over her fucking insane hair.

Gorgeous as all get out.

And she knows it.

What better way to end the weekend than with a sudsy soak?

Bubbles make my world go round.

Cheers to a fabulous first full week of March!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Super Twins, Super Friends, Super Bowl

Anyone else feel the wrath of the Polar Vortex last week? Living in Nashville, it was just a touch chillier than usual. But my where my Iowa twins reside it was a balmy -51…and that was the actual temperature, not the wind chill. Busting out of the house on Friday night made for two happy kids (and two happier parents).

Cheering on their cousin at a basketball game.

With blue tongues.

While the twins were cheering being out of the house during the Polar Vortex, I was watching the Iowa Hawkeyes basketball team school a fifth ranked Michigan. An unranked Hawk team won with a score of 74-59. God I love a rush to the court.

ON IOWA.

I’ve been meaning to give the Mini Manse a facelift since I’ve been letting everything pile up in the three years since Rapegate. Now that I’m back to giving fucks about everything, it was time to roll up my sparkly sleeves and get to work. I decided to start with The Pussy Posse wing, which I am also converting into an office Carrie Bradshaw style (you know, since I will have a martini by my side while I’m writing).

Disaster area.

As you can see, I had my work cut out for me. Basically, it looked like I was removing into the Mini Manse instead of reorganizing. My Posse couldn’t have been more excited for the overhaul.

So helpful.

In other animal news, my side hustle is pet sitting and I finally have a logo. With Hawkeye colors and a crown, could it be more fitting?

Pet Sitter Extraordinaire.

Mama CBXB provided an organizing break on Saturday morning with a much needed mimosa.

Respite from reorganizing.

While brunching, I was reminded of a long, lost pet peeve I hadn’t seen in many moons. Does it bother anyone else when parties of two sit on the same side? It makes my skin crawl for some reason.

Why can’t I just let people eat in peace?

After carb loading, it was back to finishing the cat room and it turned out swimmingly (if you like all things cat and also don’t mind memorials to my lost fur ball loves, fittingly stored in cocktail shakers and a disco ball for Ted).

 

Yes. I know you think I’m crazy. No, I don’t give a fuck.

After the finishing touches on the organizing, it was time to relax.

Some of my fave gal pals from the ‘hood came over to bitch, moan, celebrate, laugh and lean on each other.

Nothing better than gal pals.

Galentine’s Day prep.

Sunday marked a sad sports day for me. The official end of football season. However, I am much more of a college football fan than an NFL lady but still, I have to wait until August for my beloved sport to start again.

See ya later Tailgater.

While I loathe the fucking Patriots (don’t forget Bill Belichick released my dad from the Baltimore Colts back in the day – oh, and that video camera in opposing teams’ locker rooms still seems a lot like fucking cheating to me). However, between both teams combined playing in the Super Bowl, my Iowa Hawkeyes had the most players of any other college representing.

The Patriots have four former Hawkeyes total on their team. Adrian Clayborn and James Ferentz are on the roster, while Cole Croston and Riley McCarron are on the practice squad. The Rams sport two former Hawks, starting guard Austin Blythe and Henry Krieger-Coble on the practice squad. Not a bad turnout from one college program, huh?

Dada CBXB and I decided to forgo our usual tailgating snacks for a Chili’s enchilada platter and it did not disappoint in the slightest.

Um…I’m still eating on this today when I was starting a diet on Monday…

Filler up for a snoozefest of a defensive game.

While I was rooting for the Rams, I will always be happy to see former Hawkeyes achieving great feats.

One of my all time fave Hawks and my all time fave coach, celebrating.

It was even cooler that Coach Ferentz’s son also will be receiving a Super bowl ring.

Iowa girl through and through.

Lastly, I learned news yesterday of a spunky, feisty, young, bad ass mother of two who has been given a diagnosis none of us want. She’s got an army around her but I ask you to send your magic, juju, positivity and whatever else you can muster her way.

FUCK CANCER.

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – The Pussy Posse, A Penis Pot and Profile Pics

January is proving to be the most challenging time of the year for me. While I’m thrilled for a new year, something negative creeps into my bones whether I like it or not. My stutter is back. My bouncy leg comes out of nowhere. A sense of profound grief follows me around like Peanuts’ Pig-Pen’s dust cloud. It’s almost my Rapegativersary and my body realizes this. BUT all that being said, I have peeps who know how to keep me on the up and up, and so instead of treading water, I’m on a floatie.

My besite stopped by the Mini Manse Friday and we guzzled sipped wine (surprise!) and watched the Melissa McCarthy movie “Life of the Party.” Beyond hysterical.

Thank gawd for First Mate.

Saturday, two of my four pussies had vet appointments for annual check-ups. When I was scheduling, they asked which two and I said, “whichever two I can wrangle into carriers.” You know, Ted always just got swaddled in a blanket and sat on my lap during car rides so this carrier thing is new to me. And my pussies are not stupid (well, except for Ruby Sue – aka Thundercunt – who was the first victim in a cage).

Who wants a shot?

Fabio was a wee bit too big for the skull and crossbones carrier.

But not for the pink one. It was a full on wrestling match trying to shove his muscled ass into the cage but somehow after about a 10 minute struggle, I got the fucking door latched.

Beyond thrilled.

Ruby Sue on the other hand, was in some serious shock at the thought of getting on the scale. Or being at the vet. Or the car ride. Or all three.

Dime sized eyes.

While we waited for the vet, I almost laughed the building down when I saw this comparison on social media.

Better belly laugh yet came when Slappy responded…

I don’t care which way you lean, it’s fucking funny. Upon wondering what kind of comedy show my pussies were putting on in the waiting room, we got a clean bill of health for both Fabs and Thundie. Although Fabio gained 2.5 lbs last year, so he’s officially “big-boned”. Just more for this mama to love on.

While my pussies were braving the vet, my Iowa twins were eating ice cream in sub degree temperatures. Because they’re bad ass like that. Pretty unprecedented weather is coming through the state with temps supposing to feel like -41 later this week. Makes me love the Nashville 50 degree winter days all the more.

Cuteness overload.

First Mate had a girls gathering on Saturday evening and while I almost didn’t go, I was so glad I did.

What it’s like taking a selfie with me.

First Mate and Rach had to team up to pour my glass of wine.

My eye happened to catch what I thought was a tea pot on FM’s counter and thought aloud, “why the fuck do you have a penis pot on your kitchen counter?” Turns out, it’s actually a nettie pot used for sinuses and allergies and we got a full-on infomercial on how to use said pot.

Penis Pot Love

Best kind of therapy for me (friends, not the penis pot).

Perfect remedy for me.

First Mate tucked Rach and I into her couch and she had to wake us up from our peaceful passouts slumber the following afternoon.

What happened? Where am I? Who am I?

What I saw when I woke up.

Good thing is, we hydrated with water all night AND ate pizza (Rach had no memory of) so after a little coffee, we were good to go after a 16 hour girl’s night in marathon.

Hangover Schmangover.

There’s this “game” on Facebook where you can have your next five year’s predicted through photos. This is what a normal one looks like…

It takes your profile pic and then gives you standard photos for the next five years of your life.

Here’s mine…

The actual fuck? I’m not sure why I was surprised although my profile pic is of the twins.

Side note: if someone could put a pillow under my chin in 2023, I would greatly appreciate not getting a stiff neck from sleeping on the toilet face first. Thanks.

My current life philosophy. pc:#mytherapistsays

So while we all try to roll with punches that hit us, it’s always fabulous to have support of any kind. Thank you for yours.

Cheers!

CBXB

 

Weekend Winks – Spirits, Sparkles and Small Spaces

First full work weeks after holiday time off requires some celebrating for making it back into the regularity of well, regular life. What better way to do it than a little impromptu girl’s night out?

Girlfriends are the gift that keeps on giving.

Hi 2019. It’s me. Be nice.

While I am pretty sure I gained my body weight consuming every.single.alcoholic beverage I cold get my paws on, I’m back at hot yoga, trying to sweat out all of the impurities.

Nama-trying-to-get-fit.

Those not having to try hard in the slightest are those Iowa twins of mine who got to frolic in the snowfall over the weekend.

Snow Princess.

Snow Prince.

Although, I will say my B-I-L did have his work cut out for him, pulling two almost six-year-olds through the white fun.

Two ton ride.

While I haven’t made a new year’s resolution since fourth grade (I vowed to read 52 books and yes, I achieved that goal and then some because deep down, I’m a librarian rock star at heart), I did locate a possible dream vacation goal for 2019. Thing is, I wonder if all of my pussies can also cross the Canadian border…?

Who’s in?

I mean, don’t they look like they’re ready to be world travelers and not the laziest beings on the planet?

Three of my indoor four.

And for those of you keeping track, I still have this family of four I’m feeding outside. Anyone interested in rescuing? Anyone? Anyone? ANYONE?

My outdoor four.

Aside from my Meowfest goal, I’ve been besieged with social media tags on how I should exit this world. And I have to say, I’d really like this casket now because it matches my pink sparkly bass drum coffee table and I think it would make a good napping station.

I would actually sleep in this now. Morbid much?

What’s a day of rest without a little fun? First Mate and Rach called the first brunch of the season and who was I to say no?

Eeny Meeny Miny Mimosas!

From OJ to grape juice.

Finally, it’s time to take the Christmas decor down from the mini manse. Which meant I needed to climb up into Camo’s attic where he graciously allows me to store my warehouse’s worth of holiday bins. It’s the getting them down part that’s the most fun.

I may or may not still be stuck here.

Good news. I wiggled my way down and now all of my neighbors think I’m moving out, as I’ve decided to store my bins outside of the mini manse.

Nope. Not moving.

S.O.S.
@therosepepper

When the Alexa that I don’t own was no help in de-decoring, I decided to do the next best productive thing and immerse myself into bubbles.

It’s ain’t easy being me….as we’re all well aware.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!