Weekend Winks – WTF Fall?!

Where the fuck is fall?

It’s been a balmy 90 degrees and higher month of September in Nashville with not much of an end in sight. If you live below the Mason-Dixon Line, you know what’s up. At this rate, we’ll get one day of fall at the end of October and then it will start snowing.

There are signs of autumn all around – green leaves are falling from the trees (because it’s so fucking dry here), pumpkin spice everything is being advertised everywhere (did Starbucks start this beyond basic trend with their flavored latte?), football in the college and professional realms have kicked off, hockey season is upon us and Halloween decor is out in full force. So come the fuck on fall weather.

Regardless of the tropical heatwave, I scored seats to a preseason Predators game. Feeling the cool air in the arena reminded me what season is coming next.

Puck yeah hockey season is here!

Sleepy and I sat a few rows off the glass and I had to keep yelling chants to keep her eyes open (I kid, I kid. But this chick has fallen asleep numerous times when we’ve hung out, hence her nickname and the beautiful photo below).

Smashed ‘n’  Sleepy.

What other sport symbolizes the start of fall like college football? This was the fifth week of play and Dada CBXB and I were ready, as always.

Photo props waiting for their close ups.

We switched our Family Tradition touchdown shots from moonshine to Tennessee Fire (cinnamon whiskey – waaaaaay smoother than Fireball), when the Hawks started scoring more than two touchdowns per game. Our livers have loved us ever since.

Tenn Fire.

We even had a prediction as to how many touchdown shots would take place when the Hawkeyes took on the Blue Raiders of Middle Tennessee State University.

Our buddy’s shot forecast sure started out on the right cleat.

One and NOT done.

I’ve been trying to incorporate Prissy into the game day hoopla. She is so over it.

Shot two with an side of eye roll.

It was 11:58am when we slid the third shot smoothly down our throats.

Third outside with the birds.

When I posted a video about our Family Tradition consumption on Instagram, a few more peeps had more predictions…

We aren’t quitters.

Four more please.

Jazz hands for the fifth TD.

Double hands for the final family tradition count!

With a final score of 48-3, we were high on life, a win and had well dehydrated livers. Aside from victory, Saturday’s game highlighted one of the most endearing stories to come around in awhile. On the program College Gameday (the one where my 82-year-old boyfriend Lee Corso commentates and I just stood six hours to catch a glimpse of him two weeks ago), it’s tradition to hold signs up during the broadcast. My Iowa Hawkeyes played in state rivalry, the Cyclones on September 14 on their turf in Ames.

In the crowd, one of the signs red “Busch Light Supply Needs Replenished” along with a Venmo handle @CarsonKing-25. Meant to be a joke, strangers started sending funds to this Venmo account and when the sign maker, Carson King, a Cyclone fan, finally noticed, he’d received over $600 just during Gameday. And then, something specfuckingtacular happened. King decided that he would donate all of money he received for beer money to the University of Iowa Stead Family Children’s Hospital which is in Iowa City, where the Hawks reside.

That’s when it took off…

With both Anheuser-Busch and Venmo’s pledges to match donations through the end of September 30, 2019 (you’ve got time to donate), Carson King will be donating well over $2 million dollars raised in TWO weeks. What a heartwarming story needed when the climate of America is so divisive. The world needs more Carson Kings (oh and p.s. he’s 24 years old).

#ForTheKids

After all the feel goods in the morning, I joined the crew at the pool for one last weekend.

Captain, First Mate, Sleepy and Mama CBXB.

Saturday night proved alright. Prissy, the Pussy Posse and I hunkered down for the premiere of SNL, which did not disappoint. If you missed it, look up the sketch where Woody Harrelson’s Joe Biden character compares himself to a plastic straw. Comedy writing at its finest.

Saturday night vibes and yet, more fucking side eye.

Although it feels like tropical vacation weather minus the vacation in Nashville, my apartment pool shuts down this week. So you bet your ass, I planted mine in a lounge chair all of Sunday.

See ya summer.

I’m already working on a bikini body for next year’s heatwave in hot yoga and spin classes (still trying to lose the weight gained since Rapegate).

Rising and fucking shining.

Now come the fuck on fall!

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

About Last Night…

When this happens…

While this happens…

This happens…

And I’m doing it all over again tonight, so wish me (and my liver) good luck!

We’re gonna need all of the help we can get.

Cheers!

CBXB

Weekend Winks – Super Bowl Snuggle

As my Nashville weekend kicked off I found myself at my favorite local watering hole, Dalts Grill.

Fridays taste so fucking good.

Fridays are also finger lickin’ good.

Saturday had something new in store for me as I attended my first Arenacross event. I was happy to be up high enough in the seats to avoid the dirt accumulating on my face (I’m so sporty) as bikes flew through the air.

Happy the dust settled 30 yards from me.

At intermission, I was somehow shocked that bulldozers came out to smooth out the mounds of soil.

Just me and my blonde thoughts.

Being that Arenacross was held in the same place where Nashville’s NHL team, the Predators play I for some reason thought I’d see a Zamboni machine being used for the same purpose…

It’s really, really, really, really hard being blonde.

While I was busy figuring out the differences in large machines and which ones are used for ice versus dirt, my Iowa twins were enjoying the 12 inches of snowfall received over the weekend.

Sunday fun day indeed.

Heavy snowfall is always an exciting way to get out and play the day away, unless you’re a smarty pants like Princess B, who kept warm watching her twin brother throw snowballs.

Priorities.

It was then time to assume seats and snuggle down for the Super Bowl game.

Game day giddy ups.

Teddy was front and center on my lap as we tuned into the Hallmark channel and watched the cathletes on the Kitten Bowl.

Teddy is now demanding a Kitten Bowl championship ring.

When New Cat tried to join in on the snuggling, Mr. Ted E. Bear showed him who was boss.

Three’s a crowd when pissy pussies are involved.

So Newie snoozed through the football game like a fat guy in a little coat.

#1 sports fan.

Keeping up with my trashtacular ways, I turned an otherwise low calorie, healthy celery stick into a heart attack waiting to happen by dunking it in rotel and Velveeta.

Football food at its finest.

After I stuffed my face for the entire first half of the game, Tedstar decided enough was enough and got me right where he wanted me…

Snuggled down for a super bowl nap.

Some things never change.

CBXB

 

 

Weekend Winks – Bruno Mars Style

Bruno Mars was in Nashville this past weekend on his Moonshine Jungle tour and in celebration of her birthday, my mom I went to party down with the rest of the crooner’s 15,000 closest Southern friends.

Best kiss of Bruno’s life. Hands down.

A little pre-concert cocktailing at my mini-manse kicked our evening off on the right high-heeled foot.

Birthday Girl worked it!

On the way to the show, we stopping at my neighborhood liquor store (in which case, I’m pretty sure every customer in the store thought I was a hooker, based on the looks I received for my gaudy outfit), for some smuggled concert liquor concessions that I’m able to stuff in my bra with no problems (a small chest comes in handy at times like these!).

Now ya see it…

Now ya don’t!

After the bra stuffing incident, we (well, mostly me) primped before making our grand entrance onto the arena property.

Thank God for clean car windows.

We followed the beacon to the Bridgestone Arena (who knows where we’d end up without a landmark to follow?!) on a beautiful Nashville night.

We followed the light…

And of course had to have our photo snapped 400 more times (due to my insistance).

Ready for the Moonshine Jungle!

Once we purchased our sodas in the arena, I headed to the bathroom stall (Gross? YES. Cost effective? Absolutely.) to mix cocktails with my booblegged liquor.

What more did you expect from this classy lady?!

I was also able to smuggle in my mom’s fave drink in my purse (maybe I should stop blogging about it so every venue in Nashville doesn’t start full body frisking me when I come within 15 feet of their establishments).

Don’t tell Carrie Underwood that I was in a bathroom stall with her husband (even if he was only on a cup).

While waiting on Mr. Mars to take the stage, I was completely jealous of his gold, shiny, sequined palm trees!

I feel like I need this as wallpaper in my mini manse. Agree?

Trying to avoid the awkward situation where a mother behind us asked that the ladies in our row “stop dancing like strippers” in front of her 12-year-old son (although Bruno Mars does cocaine, sings about sex in about 80% of his songs and uses the F word and M’fer like it’s going out of style and humps the stage with his pelvis, you’re going to get pissed about how we’re dancing?), we held a photo shoot to keep me from getting into a brawl.

Hurry the hell up, Bruno!

When the star hit the stage, all I could do was shake it (probably not as gracefully as a stripper) for two hours straight.  I got a side ache from boogying in one spot (and I’ve run a marathon without a side ache…think that means I need to up my jogging game?) while trying to avoid pissing off the couple behind me who stood as still as trees the entire show.

Lights! Back up band that danced like the Temptations! Bruno Mars in a leopard shirt! I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

While sitting to let the crowd clear after the show, I thought we had a medical emergency on our hands, as a gal in our row took a plunge over the seats in front of us.

Wonder what she’s doing?

And still doing?

She was just trying to get a piece of the Bruno Mars glitter magic that was released at the end of the concert. Of course, it didn’t make any sense to her to walk to the now-golden stairs two feet to her left to pick up one piece from the 5.7 billion that covered the surface. Easier to go over the chair. Much easier.

Chair diving for the shiny. So worth it.

Outside, I was wooed by two cute fellas who unlike Bruno, brought flowers to me (and the 10,000 other females who were at the show). I had to leave them broken-hearted because I just couldn’t choose between the two!

It’s been so long since anyone brought me flowers, I couldn’t make my mind up…so I left with Mom.

Keeping up with the theme of the evening, we tried to muscle our way through the entire concert crowd to get into the downtown moonshine bar.

A Moonshine Jungle tour begs for us to drink moonshine, right?

At a quick glance, we were going to be asses to elbows inside the joint and I couldn’t bear to stand on my feet for much longer after my fabulous shoe selection for the evening. It seems that jumping, twirling and step touching did a number on my tootsies in these babies…

How do strippers do it?

Although my feet were a tad sore, I wasn’t about to unload my sparkly kicks, like this person did when his flip-flops apparently gave his feet something to scream about.

Abandoned and alone on the Nashville street.

As we were leaving the downtown area, I asked a young dude and a girl (who I thought was his girlfriend) if he could take our picture he said, “I can do a hell of a lot more than that to you.” Um, OK nevermind. I’m going to ask this Grandpa who probably has never used a digital camera in his life but won’t give me genital warts just by looking at me for three seconds, thanks.

Successful birthday celebration!

We woke up the next morning to find my mom had acquired a concert injury.  While walking down the steps in the dark arena, she felt like she was going to fall. Not wanting to drop her precious cocktail, she held onto the railing with just her pinky. She says it still feels really good.

Sacrificing a finger for a party. Smart choice!

And while I thought I was exhausted, parked on my couch for the entire Sunday, Teddy could hardly keep his eyes open after we kept him up until 3am with all of our concert stories (that he really, really cared about hearing).

Who the F is Bruno Mars? I don’t care. I need my beauty sleep.

With weary feet, a side ache still thumping two days later and a shriveled up liver, I’m trudging through this Monday like a champ.

And it was so worth it.

Cheers!

CBXB