When Bad Shit Happens to Good People

If you’re a regular reader, you may have noticed this typically bright, shiny, sparkly and pussy filled blog has been dark for almost four weeks. And, there’s been quite a big reason for my need to crawl in a hole the size of the Grand Canyon and wallow like a beached whale on my leopard couch with my favorite fur ball Ted for the past 30 days.

Pretty much sums up my last 730 hours.

Pretty much sums up my last 730 hours.

One month ago today, I spent a sunny afternoon in an ER being examined for a violation that no one should ever experience. There’s an open investigation, so no specific details to share but it has been a life altering event that will forever change me whether I like it or not. The immediate aftermath bubbled up feelings of shame, embarrassment, disgust, disbelief and just now, I think the shock is starting to wear off.

The thing is, in the weeks, days, hours and minutes when I felt this ordeal sinking my personal ship to the depths of the Bermuda Triangle, I’ve had a paramount support system through family, friends, fur balls and fellow blogging buddies via visits, phone calls, texts, emails and old fashioned letters.

When bad shit happens to good people, folks know how to rally.

Who love me?

Who loves me?

I’m beyond lucky to have peeps that have my back – the kind of humans who give you hope when life is heavy.

The kind of dad who has to leave work early to take his grown kid to the ER and hear the things no father should have to hear on what should have been a typical Friday.

My constant hero, Dada CBXB, remained a rock solid foundation.

My constant hero, Dada CBXB, remaining a rock solid foundation.

The kind of sister who flies down from Iowa within 24 hours, leaving her three year old twins (in the fabulous care of their father) to hold my hand and help my heart.

Through thick and thin.

Through thick and thin.

The kind of mom who comes in for a week and does almost everything except wipe my ass because I don’t know how to function (except for petting Teddy, of course – that comes naturally).

A mom's love.

A mom’s love.

The kind of friends who can make any traumatic situation feel just a bit lighter.

Laughs

Laugh factory.

The kind of friends who stay up late on school nights to comfort you.

I heart you guys.

I heart you guys.

The kind of friend who reminds you that you are, in fact, a fabulous person – but you still need to wash your hair.

Telling it like it is.

Telling it like it is.

The kind of friend who secures your mini manse surroundings.

Safety first.

Safety first.

The kind of friends who rearrange their family lives to spend time with you.

Moms rule!

Moms rule!

The kind of friends who can make you smile within seconds just because they know you’re sad.

Giggles galore.

Giggles galore.

The kind of friend who comes to slumber party because it’s too hard to be alone.

Twins

Sleeping bag bound.

The kind of friend who flies to your rescue without even being asked.

BFF for reals.

BFF for reals.

The kind of friend who packs your favorite, unattainable-in-Nashville dip in his luggage to comfort feed you.

My favorite combo.

My favorite combo.

Like, seriously.

Like, seriously.

The kind of niece and nephew who can instantly console you with their hugs, even if they’re states away.

Smiles for miles.

Smiles for miles.

Princess B hug.

Princess B’s open arms.

Prince B's open arms.

Prince B’s huge hug.

The kind of fur balls who know just when to maul you.

The kind of fur ball who never leaves your side for a second – no matter what you’re doing.

Bubbles with my fave chug.

Bubbles with my fave chug.

The kind of fur ball who further reminds you why he’s your best friend and constant life companion, giving you just what you need, when you need it.

Not for a second.

The best medicine.

The kind of people in your life who worry when you appear to be growing dreads.

Sexy and I know it.

Sexy and I know it.

The kind of people who demand you shower to remove said growing dreads.

Pretty products.

Pretty products to take out the stink.

The kind of people who check in daily, wondering where the in fuck your make-up, your sparkle and your happy has gone.

Help wanted.

Help wanted.

The kind of people who will do just about anything to help you start feeling a little bit like yourself again.

There's hope yet.

Hope floats with half assed jazz hands.

Thank you to all of those people.  If you’re reading this, you’re one of them. And I love you.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

 

Weekend Winks – a Fat Ass, Sports and a Party

CBXB invaded Kansas City this past weekend to visit Scooby and Mr. Scooby in the event of a Halloween par-tay!

Besties

How besties pick up besties at the airport.

You know how else loves of my life fulfill me? By picking up every single container of Anderson Erickson party dip (’cause I can’t get it in Nashville) so I could eat my weight in chips and dip over the weekend.

How besties prep for fat ass bestie's arrival.

How besties prep for fat ass bestie’s arrival.

And this immediately happened upon entrance into their apartment.

I was already on my second carton.

Already on my second carton.

While Scoobs was still on his first bottle of wine.

Slow guzzle.

Slow guzzling is an embarrassment.

Being full on dip and wine, we thought it was a fabulous idea to go play sports because this is our area of expertise we needed a laugh.

Gay golfers.

Gay golfers on the prowl.

My technique failed me.

My multi-tasking technique failed me.

While non of us will be joining any sort of golfing league, PGA tour or country club anytime soon, we sure looked k-ute playing, didn’t we?

Foursome fun!

Foursome fun!

Speaking of fun, what about my Iowa twins visiting preschool already? Preschool?!?!

Preschool visit. Sniff.....sniff...

Shit’s getting real seeing this little lady bug and monkey growing up.
Sniff…..sniff…sniff…

Taking their visit seriously, it was all reading after the school visit.

Brushing up on their reading skills, so excited! Books in a basket.

Books, baskets and a dog in dire need of a brush.

While Prince and Princess B were busy educating themselves, I was engaged in unpacking my precious costume cargo.

Shoving shit into my suitcase.

In need of some Halloween TLC.

The games began as the stuffing process commenced, which took a nice long hour to finish.

Beauty

Definitely not a beauty this Halloween – went for the beast.

Arriving to the party with over 20 pounds of quilt batting between my skin and the outside world, I had to take a few breathers outside to catch my breath. And the age range at this party was from about 18 to 70, so not only did folks get I was the Stay Puft Marshmallow man from Ghostbusters, some dumb fucks thought I was the Pillsbury Doughboy.

No, I'm not the fucking Pillsbury doughboy you young funk!

And dumb dumber fucks thought I was the fucking Michelin Man.

But I think our foursome nailed it!

Who ya gonna call?!

Who ya gonna call?!

Naturally I needed assistance with my gulping because my arms wouldn’t make it up to my face, as they were overly stuffed.

Assisted drink.

Mr. Scooby is hired as my drinking assistant.

Prince and Princess B greeted Sunday with my exact sentiments.

Just as tired as this marshmallow.

Just as tired as their auntie marshmallow.

As soon as I landed in Nashville, I nestled down with my favorite pussy.

Nestled.

Ted proclaiming his Halloween piece.

Here’s hoping the rest of your week is filled with spooks and spirits!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – World Traveler

OK, so maybe I’m not so much of a world traveler as a back and forth to Iowa traveler.

The past two weekends I’ve found myself in opposite ends of Iowa, partying it up with some of my fave family members starting with Prince and Princess B.

Twins are so easy.

Twins are so easy.

I hadn’t seen my hell on wheels duo since January and being that they’re now two and a half no moment spent with them is dull.

Princess B

This laugh is as funny as it appears.

Prince B

Nephew nuzzles are the best kind of love.

My sister typically stocks up on my beloved Anderson Erickson chip dip (seriously the best dip on the planet and my ample ass can prove it!) for me but Princess B had other plans.

Love us some dairy.

Who needs a spoon?

We also ganged up and loved on our favorite Hawkeye, Dada CBXB.

Three

As you can see, he hates the attention.

After a two night layover back in my own Nashville bed, I headed up to see my spunky Gma (you know, the one who pretends to hate Jell-O shots and wheels around the town square in style) as she’s not been feeling fabulous recently.

Gma

Happy to be hanging together.

I also found myself willingly stuffed in a trunk for the sake of a birthday surprise for my fabulous friend Mr. Scooby.

Got thrown in a trunk

Not much I won’t do for a laugh.

Mr. Scooby was surprised to say the least.

Surprise success!

My bestie Scooby flew me into Des Moines to surprise his hubs, Mr. Scooby for his birthday. This trip also served as a way for Scooby and myself to get shit faced at the finish line while his hot husband and equally good looking running mate, Royal, sprinted 13.2 miles at the annual Dam to Dam.

Drunk Mascot

Race runners with their soon to be drunk mascot.

A little too much excitement in the collecting of champagne bottles resulted in a bubble catastrophe in the grocery store. I swear my two bottles of wine at supper had nothing to do with it.

Clean up on aisle nine...

Clean up on aisle nine…

But the spill was definitely worth the trouble as Scoobs and I tailgated at the finish line at the ass crack of dawn the following morning.

Force fed champs well before noon

Force fed champs well before noon.

We also mustered enough energy to engage in a photo shoot while waiting for our runners.

Holla!

Holla!

They did it!

They did it!

After drinking the day away, we kept it up by cocktailing with a fellow classmate, Rolo.

Old friends.

Old friends are the funnest!

After our 118th cocktail of the day, we decided that Scooby looks like the dad from the ’80s TV show “Alf”.

Don’t you agree?

Alf Dad = Scooby

Well, we don’t think the hair looks the same…

Although a whirlwind of a time, it was a spectacular weekend seeing my gays who make me belly laugh so hard I count it as an ab workout.

Foursome

Best bikini workout ever.

There was one teeny, tiny kink in my flight back to Nashville.

It took off at 6am.

I woke up at 5:15am.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

This wouldn’t be such an issue in any other booming metropolis but the thing is this was the one and only flight out of Nashville via Southwest on Sunday. My hungover ass had to make the plane.

At 5:39am I announced my arrival at the airport running in, screaming like a crazy lady at the Southwest ticketing agents:

“WILL I MAKE A SIX AM FLIGHT?”

“You have a slight chance but your bag will never make it.”

Throwing my suitcase at the agent (while thanking her at the same time), I turned into an Olympic runner barreling through security (thank god for salt of the earth, nice, understanding Iowa people who suggested I budge when they saw dust at my feet due to my sudden athletic abilities) and sprinting to my gate in just enough time to dry heave (my body is only used to me doing arm curls in order to get a cocktail to my watering hole) when I sat in my seat as the airplane door slammed shut 30 seconds after my entrance.

Um, oops.

Aging five years in fifty minutes.

And you know what? Even with my beyond late check-in, the suitcase made the airplane.

Made it!

God I love Iowa airport workers.

As this post comes to a close, I’ve received word that things aren’t looking so hot for my Gma and your good karma sent her way would be much appreciated as my family and I hope she’s resting comfortably.

Gma

Ladies out on the town.

And as I am giving my liver a rest, here’s hoping your week is off to a fabulous start!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – Take Me to Church

Or…maybe you shouldn’t because I might burst into flames.

This Church. Not the one with a steeple.

This Church. Not the one with a steeple.

Being that I’m a lucky lady, I scored a ticket to the Eric Church concert in Nashville this weekend.  Naturally the most important element of concert prep is putting together my concert attire. And I tend to always go understated.

What to Wear?

Being subtle is my favorite thing in life.

Once the giddy up was on, I trotted down to a local honky tonk where I ran into an Arizona buddy that I haven’t seen in years. Once we started talking, it seemed like we were in the high school hallway yesterday.

Photo Bomb!

The Photo Bomber gets bombed!

My choice in outerwear proved to be a wise one as it easily turned into a bar pillow.

Bar Pillow

Heads get heavy after too much Grey Goose.

It also upped T Man’s bland outfit at one point in the evening.

Giddy Up

Animal print is so complimentary.

Leopard went straight to T Man’s head because he ever so graciously took photos of himself while using my phone.

Camera Man

It’s all fun and games until a blogger posts your picture.

What would a concert be like without a cocktail?

Showtime

No fun. A concert would be no fun without a cocktail.

But having seven a couple of Skinny Pirates might not have been so smart, as a life sized devil appeared during one of Mr. Church’s songs, making me want to sprint to the nearest House of Worship.

Devil

I still see this every time I close my eyes. Thanks Eric.

I awoke Sunday to a very pissed off pussy (who might as well have been the life size devil at the show) because he lost a wee bit of beauty sleep due to my Saturday night shenanigans.

SLEEP

Where the fuck were you last night?

I was relieved to find my phone in check, as I had lost my Louis Vuitton clutch twice during the previous evening – once in the arena and I then left it in the Uber cab (I don’t know how in the world this happened as I had a cross body bag on to prevent me losing anything. Major fail). But faith has been restored in humanity as not only was my clutch waiting for me at guest relations but the Uber driver came back by to see that my clutch found its way back to my mini manse.  Phew.

Upon charging my very dead phone, this is the face that greeted me as it powered back on.

Screen Saver

You might want to think twice if you are putting your mug on a blogger’s screen saver. Just sayin’.

Not only was I excited for the Golden Globes yesterday, I about pissed my pants in delight when I used my local grocery store’s points at the pump, making each gallon less than a dollar.

What?

Twenty gallons for less than $20.

While under lock down in Iowa due to bone chilling temps, my twins are approaching a small milestone.

T

Just the cutest duo on the planet.

Prince and Princess B will soon be entering a horrific phase (for their parents)…

Terrible Twos?

Terrible twos on the horizon this week.

In anticipation for my fave awards show, I thought I’d try to mimic the little golden statue by using a similar colored face mask while soaking in the tub but it did nothing but make me still look like me.

Golden Glow

Golden glow fail.

It was then time to decide which healthy treats I should grant myself  while watching the red carpet after eating my way through the holidays.

Dip Baby Dip

Pigging out while watching impossibly skinny stars prance around in their elegant gowns does wonders for self confidence.

And then the fabulous trio that resides in my mini manse gathered on the couch for the Golden Globes.

My Two Pussies

Golden globed PJs, one happy cat and one pissed off pussy.

Some things never change.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Merry Moments

I’m baaaack!

Miss me? Because I missed you as I greeted 2015 with about ten extra holiday pounds and 40,401 less brain cells.

Hello 2015!

Hello 2015!

While on a blogging break, I hung with my two favorite pussies more than I care to admit in Christmas pajamas.

Cat time.

Yep. Still a crazy cat lady.

I played reindeer games in hopes that Saint Nicholas would soon make an appearance.

Reindeer games.

All dolled up with no Santa in sight.

Ted nestled down in his Juicy Couture Pussy Palace while visions of life without New Cat danced around in his furry head.

Nestled all snug in his Juicy Couture Pussy Palace.

Seriously contemplating how to get rid of NC. I raise sweet cats.

A key for Santa was accompanied by my favorite treat.

Santa's fave.

Who wants milk when you can have Captain?

Christmas morning found Princess B playing her kick ass guitar from Auntie CBXB that makes all kinds of loud, annoying noise.

Rockstar in the making.

Rock star in the making.

While Prince B got his very own puppy from me.

Prince B got a puppy.

I almost wrapped up New Cat but settled on this instead.

And Princess B was so upset that she didn’t receive a stuffed dog too, she taught my mom a less by punching her in the face.

BItch slapping Mama CBXB for not gifting her a stuffed puppy.

WHERE’S MY PUPPY GIGI?!

And so she stole Prince B’s gift.

Mine. All mine.

Mine. All mine.

While I stole all of the chips and AE French Onion dip in the house.

'Tis the season of overeating....

‘Tis the season of overeating….

Which came in handy as I was leaving for Miami the following day.

Toes in the sand with my chip and dip gut.

Toes in the sand with my chip and dip gut.

But I visited the local Jewish Community Center where I tried to work off my Christmas caloric intake but couldn’t figure out how to use the damn equipment.

What the who?

Workout fail.

Trying to shed ten pounds in one morning didn’t really work out in my favor but that was OK as I was too busy kissing 2014 goodbye to care.

Kissing 2014 away!

I love you Captain.

I also got to hang with some real hipsters who obviously got all dolled up for the big night.

Hot friends

He had chips and dip over the holiday too.

And as it came down to the final seconds of 2014, I celebrated in my normal subtle way.

Double horns for double NYE excitement!

Double horns for double NYE excitement!

There was much to anticipate in the early days of 2015 – like one more Iowa Hawkeye football game. And while I wasn’t with my family to celebrate in our traditional game day ways, we still ‘tailgated’ together.

Representing the Hawks on the beach, bitch.

Representing the Hawks on the beach.

Overalls on in Tennessee

Overalls on in Tennessee.

Preparations for the game being made in Iowa by Prince B.

Preparations for the game being made in Iowa by Prince B.

Princess B could care.

While Princess B could give two shits about the upcoming game, as she was still busy with her brother’s puppy.

When the ominous clouds rolled in over the beach, I shoulda known what was going to happen as the Hawks have had a piss poor season. Even though we were playing an equally dismal team, the University of Tennessee Volunteers, I just knew it would be a good game, forgetting the fact that I attended one of the top party schools in the nation (according to a 2013 report). So I suppose fun in the sun got the better of my team.

Clouds rolled in...

Lightning did not strike for my Hawkeyes.

After a 21-0 Vols lead in the first quarter I was suddenly thrilled that I didn’t make any bets with the Tennessee fans around me. Finally in the third quarter of the game Iowa scored but still managed to make the Tennessee Vols look like a Superbowl team.

FINALLY a touchdown shot!

A much needed celebration touchdown shot.

The Vols had not won a post season game since 2008 and I was less than thrilled that my Hawkeyes were able to grant them a big W with a final score of 45-28. And so I did what any fan would do after losing a hideously named Taxslayer Bowl…

Drowning in my sorrows.

Drowning in my salt water sorrows.

Upon my arrival back to Nashville, I was greeted with fuck you flowers from my buddy and Vols fan, Camo.

Greeted back to Nashville with Tennessee colored flowers compliments of my buddy and Vols fan Camo. So sweet.

A masked insult in a lovely bouquet.

And I thought maybe 2015 wasn’t starting off on the right foot…

Maybe we didn't start the new year off on the right foot afterall...

Um, I think I miss you 2014.

Until I ran into my best friend at Dalts, which made everything right in the world again.

Captain to the rescue!

Skinny Pirates to the rescue!

So now I am back in love with the idea of a new year and I plan to kick 2015’s ass.

I hope you do, too.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

Weekend Winks – Two Times the Fun!

Being that last Friday was my two year blogging anniversary, it called for a weekend of celebrating (as I have hit a dry spell on things to celebrate….c’mon Halloween)!

Happy CBXB

Balloons courtesy of my buddy Camo.

What better way to kick of a celebratory Friday than a Skinny Pirate at my beloved Dalts?

All Captain, splash of Diet.

All Captain, splash of Diet.

Blogoversaries taste so good!

Blogoversaries taste so good!

It was also a mini celebration for Camo‘s birthday, which was over a month ago but still…

Camo's bday one month late. I just like to stretch events out.

I really like to streeetch events out.

A wake up call came bright and early for my Iowa twins, as Princess B had places to go.

GET UP! GET UP!

Get up or I’ll sit on your head.

But she needed to get to the splash park, so a rude awakening of Prince B was appropriate.

Splash parks to get to!

Early play date!

Worth the rude awakening.

Totally worth the sudden awakening.

Being that Princess B takes after Auntie CBXB, I was headed to my mini manse’s pool on Saturday and low and behold it was empty just for me.

Private pool!

Private pool!

I settled in to enjoy the absent screaming kids, radios on either side of me (one playing pop country, the other hip hop) and dudes who try to strike up a conversation even though I am clearly reading (this is the equivalent of someone trying to speak to you on a plane when you very noticeably have earphones in).

Am I the only one?!

Am I the only one in America who hasn’t yet read this book?

As the afternoon carried on, the pool filled to the brim with fellow residents and it was time for me to make an exit for a few cocktails.  While out and about, I just happened to run into First Mate which makes me love that Nashville really is a big, small town.

Quenching my losing thirst.

Fancy seeing you here!

Sunday was filled with Iowa treats my folks brought back to me from a recent trip.

Crazy for sweet corn

Crazy for sweet corn –  six ears consumed in one sitting.

Accopmanied by my two other Iowa faves - AE french onion chip dip and their equally delicious cottage cheese. *swwon*

Accompanied by my two other Iowa faves – AE french onion chip dip and their equally delicious cottage cheese. *swoon*

Trying to unwind with my weekly magazines in the tub, I got an ass to the face.

Trying to relax in the bath.

Flicking drops of water at my noggin with every whip of his tail.

After failed attempts to shower me with my own bubble bath, New Cat tried his best version of puppy dog eyes, while sitting on my reading materials.

Seriously. get out of the tub.

Seriously. Get out of the tub.

When I finally did emerge with pruned skin, Ted assumed his evening position with me on the couch, while New Cat was still in the bathroom (he’s such a smart pussy).

Sunday night maul.

Sunday night maul.

Here’s hoping your week is off to a fabulous start!

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Auntie Style

An unexpected trip to Iowa made for a whirlwind weekend for this Nashville gal, as among other things my sister and her family were in the middle of a move.

Fun aunts are amazing

Totally hands on during the move.

My bro-in-law saw that Anderson Erickson (the best damn dairy company on the planet) took notice of my Iowa appearance and put the most delish chip dip in the world on sale (I can typically eat a carton and a bag of Lay’s potato chips in one sitting. Don’t judge.).

Dip baby, dip.

Dip baby, dip.

The best thing about traveling to Iowa is seeing my twin niece and nephew, who are obvious geniuses as they have now mastered one steep step.

Step mastered.

Little Einsteins.

While arriving in the wee hours Friday morning, we needed a little pick-me-up when the moving festivities began at 8am.

Moonshine for the move.

Who needs mimosas when you have moonshine?

All of us but one selected suitable moving shoes.

Appropriate moving heels. Cinderella style

Anything more appropriate than Cinderella glass heels on moving day?

While some of us felt like Prince B mid-move, we were able to keep our emotions in check.

Not excited.

My condolences on the changing of your diaper.

I was able to muster the energy it took to stand and point as the movers brought furniture in all afternoon.

Traffic cop.

Traffic cop.

During my breaks, I felt it necessary to ride horses with Princess B.

Ridin' ponies.

She’s wondering what the hell I’m doing on her brother’s pony.

Lunch was accompanied by whiskey and ibuprofen, keeping spirits lifted.

Lunch break.

I should pack this in my lunch every day.

Because whiskey is needed in Diet Coke when you get to do fun moving chores like dismantle a couch to fit through a doorway.

Fun times.

Of course, I stood and ordered rather than get my hands dirty.

After feeling like my index fingers were about to fall off, the move was complete and I couldn’t decide which one of the moving men I liked better.

Watching is exhausting.

Professional, polite, fun and hard-working – call this company if you find yourself in the depths of moving hell.

No one was more exhausted after the day’s activities than my dogphew, Gunner who lounged under his Gigi’s feet all evening.

Dogphew

Barking is hard work.

Another perk about Iowa is getting to see my college bestie, Whitney Lover (as she has the oldest and most worn Whitney Houston t-shirt that once was white but now appears to be a stained yellow) when she has time to slide me into her hectic schedule filled with three kids’ activies.

Everyone knows of her love for WL and she was gifted with a matching onesie for her daughter.

Much to her daughter’s dismay, she received a matching Whitney Houston onesie.

Besties

We know, we know. Best photo ever.

And I got to see her little Lady E who has the biggest blue eyes you’ve ever seen.

Lady E.

Lady E with Auntie CBXB.

While Whitney Lover and I were at the bar, we noticed that a 70-year-old was trying to remain hip and cool (or copying my style completely) as she had the exact same hue of pink under her grayish white hair.  Please refrain from telling Whitney Lover how amazing her hairstyle was that day – we heard about it every where we stopped.

Pink Lady.

WL and I agreed that it’d be best if I just ended it all now.

In between meeting WL’s neighbors and kids, we headed to her house after a few cocktails. I had arrived late, so the entire neighborhood was about 14 drinks ahead of yours truly which made getting out of a seat belt extremely difficult for one Neighbor.

How many clicks to get out of a seat belt?

How many clicks does it take to get out of a safety harness?

Texting

WL wouldn’t know as she was busy texting.

And with not one ounce of ease and after 12 minutes, we were able to slide Neighbor out of the seat belt and secure her feet firmly to the ground.

Mission accomplished

Mission accomplished.

The next morning it was time to say goodbye to my fave bebes, so I read to Prince B one last time as he sat on his throne.

Stories

His Royal Highness loves his caterpillar book.

Princess B thought she’d give brushing my hair a whirl (and thankfully left no snarls).

Hair brushing

Brushing at its best.

On the way back to Nashville, we stopped at a gas station where my thoughts of inspiring hair color for seniors around the Midwest were solidified, as I saw an 85-year-old with pink in her pixie cut.

Kill. Me. Now.

Kill. Me. Now.

Who knew I was such a trendsetter for the AARP crowd?

Lucky me.

CBXB

CBXB!