Weekend Winks – Super Bowl and Sequins

A Nashville weekend jam-packed with sports, sequins and kitty cats.

Sounds like a dream come true, doesn’t it?

It's not a Super Bowl without a few sparkly sequins.

It’s not a Super Bowl without a few sequins.

Friday found me attending a Nashville Predators hockey game, where I had full expectations of yet another disappointing loss. However much to my delight, the Preds defeated the New Jersey Devils in overtime. Holla!

Fang fingers!

Fang fingers!

The win deserved to be celebrated, so my group trekked down Broadway looking for any establishment that didn’t have a two-mile line to get in. When we solidified our spot, everyone before our group and everyone after our group was carded. No one in our gang needed to whip out their ID as the bouncer said, “You’re with this guy?(a friend with few strands of gray hair) He’s old enough, I’m sure you are too.” Tear.


Reminiscing about the good old days of looking under 21.

Inquiring minds have been asking about New Cat (a freezing stray that showed up at our door a few weeks back), who is still in residence under my roof. You know how folks say after three days company starts smelling a little fishy? Then you can only imagine how Ted is feeling about New Cat after three weeks….

House guest smelling a little fish to TEd

A real, live shadow for Teddy.

While I thought New Cat was enjoying his warm, cozy digs I second guessed that notion after catching him trying to commit suicide from my second balcony porch this weekend.

Suicide attempt

Only nine lives there, NC.

On a side note, this is really one of the sweetest, cuddliest cats I’ve ever seen. In the market for a little fur baby? I’ll drive him to a fabulous home…

Ever go dumpster diving? I didn’t think it was really a sport until I saw this set of glasses calling my name from the neighborhood trash can.  Couldn’t help but slam on the brakes and carefully load my new glasses into the car.

One man's trash is apparently my treasure

Trashy treasure for me!

My two little Iowa rug rats were so excited for the Super Bowl that they stood up and cheered about it on Sunday morning.

A standing ovation on Super Bow day.

A standing ovation for football.

While the twins were busy giving their legs a workout, my favorite feline was busy soaking in all of the fun from the Kitten Bowl.

Me and my MVP

Me and my MVP.

Of course there were parties to attend in honor of football’s biggest night.  Remember how I said it’s not a Super Bowl without sequins? I meant to also include Jell-O shots in that statement.

Jell-O! Remember how I said what's a super bowl without sequins? I meant Jell-I too.

Ain’t no party like a Super Bowl party…

I elbowed my way up to the well stocked bar as soon as I made my grand entrance.

Bee line to the bar.

Too bad there’s no liquor to consume.

Guess which glass I chose to guzzle from the entire evening?

Size matters

Size matters.

When the whistle blew, we had our game faces on.

Game face on.

Nice grill.

The spread of food would have easily covered a football field.

Food galore.

It keeps going…

And more...

…and going….

Oyster appearance

…and going….

Bets and tasty footballs

…and going…

Did I mention that there were Jell-O shots?

Did I mention Jell-O?

No pressure but you should probably have one. Or five.

While the game started to suck shit even before halftime, our crowd was ready for some Bruno Mars entertainment.

Bruno ready!

Bring us Bruno, baby!

Hello Lovah.

80 inches of one fabulously fine performer.

While no one likes to see a Super Bowl blow out, there’s really only one thing you can do to keep from being bored…

Celebrate Bruno the only way I know how.

Jell-O. For winners, losers and boredom.

Even sweet Buddy the dog was forced to sniff the gelatinous goodness due to the snooze fest of a game.

Buddy was even

No worries. I did Buddy’s shot for him.

A few rounds of Jell-O made even the dreariest of commercials hilarious.

Wishing I was this happy this am....

Game? What game?

Wishing I was feeling that happy on this Monday morning…

Congrats to the Seattle Seahawks!




Songs of a Move

Moving is always a pain in the ass, as you have to touch every. single. thing. you own (or so it seems) before you decide what is actually making the cut for your new digs, what hits the trash and what you will give away.

Smoking wreck

Moving morphs me into a smoking wreck. And I don’t smoke. Ever.

Every relocation situation has emotions behind it – whether it’s excitement, anxiousness, fear, happiness – and as I found myself moving yet again this summer, I thought back on previous times when I transitioned to a new place. And each memory was accompanied by a specific song, which had really never dawned on me previously.

So here are anthems from a few of my life changing moves…

Relocating to Nashville with no job, an apartment waiting for me that I’d never laid eyes on and $900 bucks in my pocket, I packed up a U-Haul, put my cat on my lap and headed for a city where I didn’t know a single soul.  I visited Nashville a week prior and spontaneously decided to give it a whirl. I didn’t have a ‘real’ job in Iowa with standard amenities (a regular paycheck and health insurance being examples), I didn’t have a ball and chain persuading me to settle down and pop out love children yet and it just seemed like the right time to make a big move.

Packing is so fun if you leave it 'til the last minute!

Packing is so fun if you start the night before you leave.

While filled with exhilarating emotions, when the day came to actually leave the comforts of my family home and the wheels turned out of my driveway, I drove down I-80 with big, fat “what the F am I doing?!” tears rolling down my cheeks.

Bawl baby in three...two...cue the song.

Little does this picture convey that I’m a water balloon waiting to burst inside of my SUV in a mere matter of seconds.

And what song was blaring on the stereo, aiding my sudden emotional insecurity of moving so far away from every familiar person in my life?

Wide Open Spaces” by the Dixie Chicks.

Cliché? Hell yes. Did it make me feel better? Oh F yes.

Carrying on like a bawl baby, acting as if I would never see my home state of Iowa again, singing along with the song…

“Who doesn’t know what I’m talking about
Who’s (me sniffing) never left (I wipe my snotty nose) home (I begin bawling), who’s never struck out (now crying so hard can’t catch breath)
To find a dream (me wailing) and a life of their own
A place in the clouds, a foundation of stone”

I think every trucker I passed and glanced down at my car thought about running me off the road to put me out of my own misery. But at the end of that long weekend move, I was excited, scared and ready to take on Nashville with all of the gusto a young gal such as myself could muster.

First 'real' apartment!

First ‘real’ apartment and it’s mine. All mine.

As life happens, I found a job within the first week of my move, met friends, joined a band, found a boy I shacked up with and all seemed to be falling into place. Except when it didn’t several years in.  I lost my job, vacated the shared house with my boyfriend and ended up getting to move in with my parents (every adult child’s dream come true) all in the same week. To say that it was epic shit show is an understatement.

Shit show.

A year full of hot mess and mascara stained cheeks that forced me to laugh at my ridiculousness.

The world seemed to cave in, the sky fell down and the Earth under my feet was ripped from beneath me.  I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t catch a break. Not only was I reeling from a difficult break-up (I’d been with this man longer than some gal pals had their husbands) I couldn’t believe I had given my blind loyalty to friends only to have them vacate as soon as I needed them or even worse, take advantage of my trust when I was most vulnerable. Valuable life lessons learned and true friends left standing. Oh snap!

The song that played on constant repeat this time around?

Grenade” by Bruno Mars with a doozy of a chorus that goes like this…

“I’d catch a grenade for you
Throw my hand on a blade for you
I’d jump in front of a train for you
You know I’d do anything for you
Oh, I would go through all this pain
Take a bullet straight through my brain
Yes, I would die for you, baby
But you won’t do the same”

I was able to get through the tough year with family, best friends, running my ass off and any liquor I could get my hands on (the always oh-so-healthy coping mechanism).

Car bomb shots seemed like such a good idea...

Car bomb shots with cousins seemed like such a good idea…

But not really...

Until they went down the hatch…

Of course when my liver dried out and I was able to eek out the funds to make the move into my mini manse after 10 months of parental living, the song blaring from every available speaker was “Fuck You,” by Cee Lo Green, which has pretty much become my life anthem (side note, please play at my funeral if I should die before you. Thanks).

And now for my recent humdinger of a move…

Feeling kind of like a card-carrying adult, I was thinking at this point in my life the next step for me would be to move into a bona-fide house (or at the very least a spanky condo) and I was very happy in the small duplex I was renting, which is where I planned to stay until the timing was right for me to leave. But instead, I got kicked out of my mini manse duplex two months ago when the land lord’s son knocked up his girlfriend and they needed to expand to my side. Rough news, as I lacked the funds moving requires and the last thing I wanted to spend what little savings I had on first and last month’s rent, pet deposits, utility transfer fees, endless tanks of gas, etc….

Thank God for t-shirts that say it all.

Oh you need me to move ASAP? Let me just get my trusty shirt, sunglasses to wear inside due to swollen, shit show eyes and get drunk first. Thanks.

The Rolling Stones helped me get through this past summer move with “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.”

“You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You just might find
You get what you need”

The lyrics continue to remind me that while at a forced proverbial fork in the road, intoxicated by my life’s sudden and unexpected twists and plot changes, I just might find that in the end of this chapter I will get what I need (or at least I F’ing better!) – I just wish I knew what that was going to be…(patience is definitely not a virtue in which I’m familiar).

I’ll keep you posted.

Until my next moving anthem presents itself, I’ll be cranking up the Cee Lo and rockin’ out to my life’s theme song as I continue to unpack by touching every. single. thing. I own.



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.

I let Bruno give me a kiss...

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!

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 see it…

Now ya don't!

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.

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.

beautiful Nashville night

We followed the light…

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

Ready to party!

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)

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!

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.

dance the night away

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?

Wonder what she’s doing?

And still 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.

Trying to get a piece of the glitter magic.

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 had a hard time deciding...

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.

Keeping with the Moonshine Jungle theme, tried the moonshine bar but packed

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…

While my feet hurt a tad after all of the jumping, dancing and

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 broken

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.

Honky Tonk Time!

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.

pinky parade

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).

Lights out the rest of the weekend!

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.




Yo, Mama!

Roses are red, violets are blue,

Today is your birthday, Mom and here’s a poem for you.

Favorite pictures from the past are always a hoot,

This one is my favorite although I look like a goof.

Yo Mama

Often times through the years we looked so cute,

Good times

But sometimes I see photos I wish we could color mute.

Did a rainbow throw up on this picture?!

You’ve lead us through the sea of life,

In the sea of life, you taught me how to keep my head above water...

Like a bright, shining, ray of light.

Made mon Russ

While two girls were just perfect for our close knit clan,

Yo Mama

You were thrilled to add a son-in-law and then twins to the fam!

Fun Day Father's Day!

You’re a party girl at heart,

And everyone always wants you around when the fun starts.

Taught me the value of a good cheers!

You taught me the importance of good cheer

And how to dance with jazz hands showing no fear.

And how to keep the party going strong!

Some folks were jealous of me, having you as my mom

And I don’t blame them one bit because you’re the bomb!

Like mother, like daughter!

So for some birthday fun, put your dancing shoes on

For tomorrow night we’re going downtown to fawn,

All over Bruno Mars as he sings us his songs!