Weekend Winks – Super Hero, Sun and Snuggles

Life. Last week was a doozy in the fact that my chronic fatigue kicked into high gear. I was so ready for Friday at 5pm, I came home and when I laid down on the couch, I woke up two hours later. I’m not a napper but damn it felt ah-mah-zing.

While I was busy snoozing, Prince B was kicking ass and taking names as a super warrior ninja.

Even ninjas use jazz hands.

He was supposed to use his super power abilities to make it through the obstacle course.

Nailed it.

You know what else this handsome devil can do? Model. His love of books rivals my own and Sister CBXB has taken the twins to the library since forever. Proof is in the banner below.

Literature stud since birth. Yes, I can get you an autograph.

Speaking of autographs, I can also secure you one of Princess B when she becomes a hair model.

Curls on point.

I mean…can you even?

After my mini marathon of a nap Friday, I moved my ass to the bathtub and read to relax. I went to bed around midnight and woke up at 11:30am on Saturday looking nothing like the storybook princesses do. But damn was I rested.

A not so Sleeping Beauty.

As soon as I saw the sun was out, I met Rasta up at the pool where we had on matching swimsuits that were filled out a skosh differently.

Twinning.

My other gal pal, Voodoo found the.perfect.float at my mothership, Target. I will be purchasing this on my next payday because, how could I live without it?

MINE.

Saturday night called for a birthday party for my gal pal G (you know, the one who defended my honor and almost fought an 80-year-old man). It was a real treat to see these ladies.

Fab four.

I don’t get to see them as much lately due to the fact that they have procreated. And while I am extremely busy raising four lazy pussies, I can’t get them to play games with me. So I borrow everyone else’s spawn.

Don’t worry. There was a babysitter babysitting me, too.

Sunday was so dreary I could only think of one thing that might make it better.

The perfect Iowa trifecta of goods. Fresh sweet corn, Anderson Erickson Old Fashioned Cottage Cheese and their fucking bomb ass French Onion dip (which I always call french vanilla – sooooooo hard being blonde). Please, for the love of GAWD can a grocery store start carrying these products below the Mason Dixon Line?!

Throw in a steak and this could be my last meal.

Still feeling tired as all get out, I went back to bed to read only to be pounced on (a very, slow, lethargic pounce) by Rocky.

14 lbs of pussy.

My fucking arm and hand went numb because how could I move this face? HOW?

Dead weight.

While trying to do things with my non-dominant left hand, I happened to scroll passed a very accurate meme on Instagram.

Further fucking proof of a snoozing Pussy Posse.

Obviously Rocco moved and I was able to resume finishing my book. Then I was down a pussy in the bed and went on the hunt for Fabio who typically is demanding a head rub on my chest. I found him on the kitty condo enjoying some solitude.

He just needed a minute.

While I was getting ready to pour myself a cup of Sleepytime tea, these two clowns were still up at 8:30pm when their usual bedtime routine starts around 7pm.

Night caps of milk.

Monday started out in the loveliest way possible. As my alarm did its duty, the pussies that were sleeping in each arm pit and on my chest scattered, knowing it was feeding time. I rolled over and saw cat ass. Awe.

Best view in bed.

Here’s hoping you don’t already feel like this today, too.

Cheers!

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.

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.

This laugh is as funny as it appears.

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.

Who needs a spoon?

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

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.

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.

Not much I won’t do for a laugh.

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.

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…

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.

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

Holla!

They did it!

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

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?

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.

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.

Aging five years in fifty minutes.

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

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.

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

 

Trashtacular 90th Birthday Shenanigans

Can you imagine turning the big nine-oh? I can’t either (really, I can’t imagine my liver lasting that long). But my family certainly turned up the class when we were celebrating behind the scenes at my Grandma’s 90th birthday shindig, starting off with her heart bursting in pride at my inability to wash off rub on tattoos I’d received at the Iowa State Fair the day prior.

Tough enough to celebrate 90?

Of course we threw Gma an appropriate celebration complete with cake, cookies, punch, old friends and best (depends on how you look at it) of all  – family.

Nonagenarian in her birthday glory!

Party girls! All five sisters are still alive and kickin’ it into their 90s.

Whenever the seven of us are now in the same state, my immediate fam always feels the needs to take a photo just in case we use it at holiday time.

Smile! Might be the Christmas card this year…but it for sure won’t be because the babies aren’t looking into the camera. Plus, why do I have two dark holes as eyes?

During the four-hour throw down, a few of us cousins snuck off to Aunt Crispy’s house for a quick cocktail.

None of the 90-year-olds even noticed we went missing.

The celebrating really started when we spiked the punch and got out the elaborate appetizers at the after party.

Nothing says fancy like Anderson Erickson French Onion Dip and party sized Ruffles!

We took turns primping in the new hand mirror my sister gifted me…

Definitely not the fairest in the land.

I cheated on Captain for the first time ever (hurt so good) and used Lady Bligh for Skinny Pirates.

You can catch me on the next episode of Cheaters.

Friendly, loving sign language was exchanged as I “made” family members sign Gma’s guest book, accompanied by a favorite memory with her.

Tough times signing the book (even though it’s her own son).

With the addition of B and B, we were sure to keep the after-party baby friendly.

Party animals taking notes from Auntie CBXB.

As we turned their binkies into new wine glass decor.

Binky booze charms will be all the rage. Mark my words.

We then felt the need to forgo glasses and just pass the bottle, in old-fashioned, celebratory, heathen-style family fun.

Who needs a glass?

Once we threw the stemware out, we felt it appropriate to just use our hands to eat left over cake.

Don’t forget to lick under your fingernails.

And what family birthday party is complete without someone taking their shirt off and using it as a turban?

Uncle T’s head was cold. Really cold.

Taking one’s shirt off also means you can just let it all hang out…all over the kitchen table.

Bonding time over the gut strut.

You may think that all of this white trash birthday behavior would be enough to make one go mad…

I don’t care about your gut Uncle T! This mirror won’t answer my question. AM I PRETTIER THAN SNOW F’ING WHITE?!

But I was still concerned with not being the fairest in all of the land.

I’m sure you’re wondering if my clan is available to attend your next family gathering. The answer is yes. But we do require chips, dip and booze. Lots of booze. Oh, and a piece of your square footage to lay our weary party heads when it’s all over.

CBXB

Weekend Winks – Car Party!

A lazy Nashville Friday night consisted of Skinny Pirates and laundry with assistance from Mr. Bear, of course.

Wanting to be the center of my laundry attention.

Fluff cycle.

A tad on the overly excited side, I accidentally ate an entire bag of Lay’s potato chips due to the fact that my bootlegged AE chip dip (brought back from last week’s trip to Iowa) called my name every three seconds from the fridge. Along with the equally delicious AE cottage cheese.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner for the weekend.

An unexpected girl’s Saturday night out called for pre-party cocktails and a fancy Instagram-ish photo shoot, showing off my leopard heels (purchased on sale at Dillards – $19.98. Hello!).

Cocktails and high heels on a Saturday night.

Upon arriving to our bar of choice, we commenced the rare evening out (some of these ladies have little ones, therefore not out-on-the town as much as yours truly) with a big, fat toast.

Cheers to Saturday!

Moms on the loose.

People watching is one of my fave things to do and I was trying to snap a pic of a gal’s rain boots all incognito with no success. So we sat up a mock photo shoot in the booth.

The cover up.

The victory shot of the camo rain boots with no precipitation in sight. But a much-needed documentation of Southern-style rubber mud kickers, agree?

Mission accomplished.

Once our camo clad photo shoot was busted (I think my loud laugh gave our shenanigans away), we kept up the charade of a photo shoot up much to our fellow bar-goers delight.

Can you believe the Ford Modeling Agency passed on this? Complete with a carrot shred in my lap?

Oh you have camo boots? We have carrot moustaches.

Yes. We know we’re very cool.

Upon completion of our own personal media event in the bar booth, we celebrated with bubbly in our parked car (since we couldn’t crack the champs open in the restaurant – I brought the bottle in celebration of a baby girl born to one of our fellow ladies eight weeks earlier – so I was a little late…).

Have you done this since you were 16? We’re just keeping it classy!

Backseat beauties.

Our car party was busted by the valet dude who acted like a cop on patrol.

Oh, what’s that you say? We can’t party in the parking lot of this fabulous establishment?

We kissed the stuffy bar good-bye (and I literally left my red lipstick and greasy nose print in my gal pal’s backseat) and hoofed it downtown to carry on the evening.

CBXB reminder for the week…I think that’s 24 hour stay put lipstick.

Disapproving of the late hour of my return, Ted could only look down his nose at me in disgust.

PAST CURFEW!

But he quickly got over it as I belly rubbed him to sleep.

Lazy leopard.

Sunday was spent giggling at photos of my god-daughter…what better past time?

Life is good!

Here’s to a happy week for you!

Cheers –

CBXB

How to Throw Down at a Christening

Prior to witnessing the baptism of your twin niece and nephew, it’s important that they start the day happy.

Rise and Shine!

It’s also equally important to fill up on bottles of adult beverages in preparation for a Christening celebration (that, and the fact that you didn’t start on fire upon entering a church).

Baptism of twins equals twice the party fun!

Be sure to add personal touches in decorating by displaying pics of those near and dear holding the babies.

Can you spot CBXB sticking out like a sore thumb?

My sister, the mother of infant twins, also finds time to create art with all of her spare time.

Food is essential when celebrating babies being dunked in holy water, so have a nice spread.

Sweets, sandwiches and salads…oh my!

Play kissy face with one of the guests-of-honor when she refuses to go down for a nap (not wanting to miss out on any of the fun…taking after Auntie CBXB!).

Future social butterfly.

Keep the cocktails flowing with an open bar, new mom and tasty beverages.

Pour me another, please!

Have a camera in hand at all times to catch each and every second of the day drinking celebration (you’re doing it for the babies, of course).

Turn into a tourist in your sister’s home.

All of the photo snapping will make you very thirsty, leading to a case of the double fists.

I did this in honor of twins…you know a drink for each.

Force your dad to try drinks unknown to him (which would be anything other than Natty Light and Taaka (rot gut) vodka).

Force feed martinis.

Once the party is fully underway, keep the chips and dip within an arm’s reach so as not to starve due to over consumption of wine. Or beer. Or vodka. Or Captain.

Rehydrating with sodium filled potato chips and the best dip ever Anderson Erickson French Onion (one of the best things in Iowa!).

To further the celebration, break out the cigars!

Don’t usually smoke? Have a cigar anyhow.

Partaking in cigars when one usually doesn’t smoke leads to the party clock striking midnight and lights out…almost immediately.

My bed buddy. Not affected by the cigar smoke but clearly happy the party is over.

One can try to sleep the Christening party off the next morning but sometimes you forget that babies get up at the ass crack of dawn. No. Matter. What.

Party pooped out …. well at least I am.

And excitedly remember that babies also tend to only sleep, eat and shit the rest of the day. Score!

Trying to be just like her Auntie CBXB with a sleep mask. Love!

And that folks is how you thrown down at a Christening.

Bless your heart.

CBXB