Weekend Winks – A Wonder Dog and Dads

All is well and good until you kick your weekend off with a purple gin martini.

Then it’s fucking fabulous.

I only like gin when it’s purple.

A gaggle of friends were in Music City and we had so much fun, the time spent together warrants its own post. But what started out like this…

Was raging the following 24 hours like this…

No fun zone.

My Iowa twins were having their own fun on my old work stomping grounds at Adventureland, an amusement park near Des Moines.

You’re gonna have a fun filled day! (jingle)

I used to sing and dance on a stage that rose from the ground six times per day in the sweltering Iowa heat. It was so much more fun than waiting tables and it gave me the performance bug that eventually led me to Nashville.

I was not fortunate enough to be a plush dog. Once I was a fucking clown.

Princess B decided to get a few inches chopped off of her luscious locks and I don’t care that she’s my mini me, this chick can do no wrong when it comes to life her hair.

those. curls.

Saturday called for brunch and while I was busy guzzling bottomless mimosas at the bar, I saw a dog (it’s like my eyes are magnetically drawn to anything furry). The bartender took a beer, the dog retreived it from her hand and gingerly carried it to his owner at a nearby table.

I was so bummed I missed the video but naturally had to go and maul the dog, Dog for his fabulous efforts. Luckily for me, the owner was not a one and done kind of drinker, therefore, I had a chance to get this genius canine in his pet trick element.

*mind blown*

What else would one do on a low key Saturday night than watch your favorite Christmas movie for the 6,380,156 time? I couldn’t even wait until “Christmas in July”.

A fun old fashioned family Griswold Christmas.

Sunday greeted me with a fancy omelette courtesy of Van Waffles.

That drizzle is everything.

Father’s Day celebrations then commenced and I sent messages to my peeps. I have dudes in my life who are fathers to fish, four legged friends, and humans. First photo I received of the day was from my cousin and his one and some months year old daughter (why don’t people just say one? Why does it have to be 16, 18, 24 months? Just a side question for the humanless parents).

Juicy Lucy!

My mini party headed to the ever affordable Chili’s for their all day happy hour (2 for 1 house wines and beer, hello!) to celebrate dear old Dada CBXB.

Chips, salsa and snoozes.

My girl, Sleepy, went out the evening before and the salsa dipping proved to be too much, so she shut her eyes for a second.

Party animal.

While she was regaining her dipping strength, I gifted Dada CBXB with a small token of gratitude that he can share with me, naturally.

Bota Box Rosé. Bring that into the pool next weekend. Thanks.

I then turned my dad into Elton John by adorning him with my new sunglasses that are only missing lights.

Here’s hoping your week is just as extra as my dad’s sunglasses.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Baby Back Twins

A crazy trifecta.

A trifecta of crazy.

It’s no secret that I am bat shit cray cray over my niece and nephew who reside in Iowa.  While I’m certifiably nuts over the twins, my pussies (especially Ted), the Iowa Hawkeyes and Skinny Pirates, my teeny kinfolk (a snazzy word I’ve picked up since living in the South) are bananas over chips and salsa.

Chips and salsa for everyone!

Chips and salsa for every meal please.

She means fucking business.

Princess B means fucking business.

While any old brand will typically do the trick when they get a hankering, there is one place that ranks highly in the hearts of the twins in regard to salsa.

Twins of a different sort.

Twins of a different sort and their mothership of salsa.

A love for all things about the Chili’s casual dining experience, the twins go banana pants when it comes to the food served.

Cheese

A cheesehead stringing his snack out.

Of course the main dish is typically copious amounts of salsa.

Happy place.

Happy place.

Salsa and cheese. The gifts that keep on giving.

Salsa and cheese.
The gifts that keep on giving.

Just recently, a new adoration was revealed after a family sing-a-long of one of Chili’s most famous commercial jingles. (I mean, what classy family in desperate need of toddler entertainment doesn’t dig advertisement songs out from the past to pass down from generation to generation?)

Not sure what I’m talking about? Well, please tune in to the two virtuoso versions below. Yes, my heart is bursting with pride over the renditions of “Chili’s Baby Back Ribs“.

Allow me to set the twins up.

Ahem….

I want my baby-back-baby-back-baby-back-baby-back.

I want my baby-back-baby-back-baby-back-baby-back.

Naturally, I’m waiting by the phone for the marketing department of Chili’s to call and offer Prince and Princess B contracts (of course I’ll be the auntager, giving Kris Jenner a run for her billions).

BARBECUE SAUCE!

CBXB

CBXB!