Weekend Winks – Best Day of My Life…and Then Some

Due to the current football season underway, we were encouraged to decorate our work spaces with items showing off our #1 team last week. Per usual, I went with subtlety.

Just me, over here in my Hawkeye sequins jersey.

Overboard much?

I hate the Iowa Hawkeyes, obvies.

On Friday, we had a pot luck BBQ and there were raffle prizes to be distributed. When it was said that we were having a few “special guests” help draw the raffle names, my interest was beyond piqued. Then, in skipped two Tennessee Titans cheerleaders, which was pretty cool. As they were getting ready to draw the first prize, it was announced that there was one more special guest. My stomach dropped. I was thinking please don’t be the new head coach Mike Vrabel, please don’t let it be the quarterback Marcus Mariota, but pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease let it be my T-Rac. The official mascot of the Tennessee Titans.

See, I have a thing for mascots. You know, those fur coated creatures that accompany my fave sports teams. It sure as shit was my lucky day.

In waltzed T-Rac. My face went red, I screamed like a girl seeing The Beatles on the 1964 Ed fucking Sullivan show, and about broke my metal folding chair pumping up and down on my plump rump. With my heart racing, the cheerleaders started drawing names for raffle winners. T-Rac was the one distributing the awards and I had to get my hands on him. The final prize of the day – a $100 gift card and commemorative Titans glass was on the line. The blonde beauty drew that last ticket and….said MY NAME.

I reacted with real class.

I jumped like a fat rabbit up to get my prize while giddily giggle screaming the entire way.

HUG ME ALREADY.

In the span of 25 seconds, I managed to make a gigantic ass hat of myself in front of my entire office. I also managed to not only maul T-Rac but told him that I loved him AND announced that this was the best day of my life. It wasn’t even noon on a Friday yet.

 

Afterward, the gentlemanly raccoon and his cheering sidekicks stayed to graciously take pics with the peeps.

Four’s a crowd.

demanded asked the hot mammas to please move over and allow me a solo photo with my main plush squeeze.

Move over bitches. He’s all mine.

On top of being in the arms of a giant stuffed animal, my life was absolutely complete when I made my debut on T-Rac’s social media page as the inaugural “Fan of the day”.  Of course I turned right around and added it to my Instagram.

Stand by for our “Save the Date” wedding invites.

How could this day get any more exciting?

An email went out announcing free cans of wine in the breakroom. I had to steady myself as I sprinted down the hallway to hoard the loot.

Mine all mine – now safely in my fridge and damn good.

My adrenaline was pumping pretty high, so I was excited I had plans to celebrate one of my nearest and dearest gal pal’s birthday after work.

Birthday girl sandwich.

I could hardly go to sleep since I had such a positive karma filled day. Luckily, Ruby Sue was wide-eyed with me.

Too excited to sleep.

With it being a balmy 90 degrees on Saturday, I hauled ass to the pool, trying to make summer last.

Saturday sun soak.

While I was hoping Saturday wasn’t the last hurrah in the sun, my Iowa twins were up and at ’em with a clever activity. They put coins in pans to freeze overnight.

Different version of Frozen.

They had to break the ice open, count the coins and exchange them for dollar bills from their parents.

Big money for Prince B.

Princess B headed straight to the Dollar Tree.

Saturday night my Hawkeyes played and I headed out to Dada CBXB’s to get the tailgate going.

Who doesn’t love boxed wine and wings?

Positions assumed.

The kitty didn’t stay cozy for long, as Iowa scored five touchdowns. You know what that means…

Five Family Tradition winning shots, baby.

Easily soaked up the next morning by my omelette making father.

What shots?

Being back in the maniac celebrate-everything-for-fun-life mode again, I started decorating for Halloween all day Sunday. My fabulous Fabio could have given two shits about my hard work, turning the mini manse into a haunted fortress.

As I was going back and forth to fetch my Halloween bins from my car, it was raining lightly. When I looked up in the sky, there was a full on rainbow. I seriously considered getting in my rust bucket and searching for the end, hoping for a pot of gold.

For like, a full five minutes.

I mean, I had fab karma going on.

Instead of looking for lost treasure, I plopped down in my tub for a soak and a People magazine read (side note – I get Meghan Markle is now a princess from America and all but if I wanted to read about the Royals every week, I’d move to fucking England).

Then it was time for a snuggle down on the leopard couch with my new fall scented candles.

No better way to wind down after an exhaustingly excitement filled 48 hours. Amiright?

Here’s hoping your mascot equivalent finds you this week.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Summer Swirldown

How in the fuck is it the middle of September already? I mean, south of the Mason-Dixon Line we’re hitting 90 degrees today,
so it still feels like July. However, I am ready for all things Hallothanksgivingmas to commence and you can bet your ass I’m beyond thrilled college football is in full swing.

The tests of life were full throttle over the sweltering months of heat and while I tried to remain armored and ready to fight, I found myself more than exhausted.

*most of the time*

Much of the summer was spent lounging on my leopard couch with The Pussy Posse, admiring my seasonal celebration tree adorned with flamingos and sunglasses.

Yep. That’s Cousin Eddie’s camper beneath the tree.

 

 

 

The first punch of summer was coming home to the mini manse one Monday after work, finding my sweet Precious had passed on to the Rainbow Bridge. She was the last link to my “old” (aka pre-Rapegate life) and losing her really took one of the last pieces of my sparkly black heart.

Ted and Presh reunited over the rainbow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course loss is a way of life, and with the horrible, comes the fabulous. One of my fave peeps, 5 Degrees, flew me to Phoenix to par-tay over the Fourth of July.

I have the best friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I packed my leopard print suitcase (which still isn’t unpacked all the way – 5D, does that make your OCD skin crawl?!) and took my American Bad Ass south, not being able to wait to get the fuck out of Dodge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was able to not only cut loose with 5D and my beloved gal pal, Dumpy, I also was able to finally sleep. Instead of a puke and rally like performed in college days, I napped and rallied. In the middle of the party, I went to my bedroom, slept a few hours, work up and started all over.

A gent, a lady and an ass clown.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After gracing Phoenix with my presence, Rasta and I celebrated Nashville Pride by having duct tape slapped over our loud mouths. Kidding. It was for the NoH8 campaign.

I know many of you would like me to wear this tape daily.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Best lazy days are spent at the pool and I put hard time in over the summer.

Pool days for days.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Girls just wanna have sun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now that I’m moving along in PTSD recovery, I can actually concentrate and read again without forgetting what I just read when I turn the page. I’ve immersed myself in books thanks to Sister CBXB, sending me all the good reads.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If I wasn’t at the pool reading, I was in the bubbles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Speaking of reading, my Iowa twins started kindergarten. Fucking kindergarten!

Two tall weeds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not excited about it at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After twirling myself down to the concrete and gaining a concussion, I hobbled around like a 92-year-old with a broken hip (when I really just had- have- a broken toe).

The Steven Tyler of cane decorators.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

While rest proved to be just what the body ordered, it was the time of year where I could either choose to celebrate life or grieve in sadness as the first anniversaries of the lost loves came. The magnitude of losing my best friend just hasn’t gone away. The time has helped to ease the heaviness in my heart but there really isn’t anything that helps with the void of our daily routine. And how he was always there when I came home from Rapegate therapy every Thursday as I cried in my closet – he never left my side. Holy fuck was I lucky to be his mama. I can’t wait to see him again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first anniversary of the passing of Aunt Crazy Pants was a cruel reminder that I have yet to realize that she’s actually gone. I didn’t see her every day or talk to her every day but I sure as fuck still think to pick up the phone and call to bitch about a bad day or ask how to what the fuck shallots are for some ludicrous recipe because I’m no genius in the kitchen. While tears were shed, Mama CBXB, First Mate, Bird Lady and myself cheersed to ACP at the Cheesecake Factory with her fave cocktail, a Gin Rickey.

Celebrating ACP.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then, we shopped for shoes and sipped champagne at Tory Burch.

Cheers to the life lived.

 

 

One of the end-of-summer highlights…I, most likely along with every other customer, received a VIP card to my beloved Dalts. Which, in my opinion, I should have received 100 years ago.

About fucking time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The best part of the swirl down of summer? It’s the start of college football season, bitches. And Coach Kirk Ferentz of my Iowa Hawkeyes is not only celebrating his 20th year as Iowa’s head coach, he’s also the longest tenured coach in college football and just nabbed the all-time wins as an Iowa coach, surpassing Hayden Fry.

 

 

You know what football season means…it’s time for weekly tailgates with Dada CBXB!

Family tradition touchdown shot time!

 

 

 

 

Feeling a little stuck in the middle of muck this summer, the rest, family, friends and fur balls have kept me plugging along.

Stuck in the middle…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now I’m ready to tackle (pun intended) the rest of the year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love ya, mean it.

CBXB

CBXB!

The Lights That Guide You Home

It’s fucking insane that my kick ass Aunt Crazy Pants has been partying up above for nearly 365 days. Some moments, it feels like two years ago but mostly I still forget and think to pick up the phone to text or call and then remember I can only communicate via the red bird, a cardinal.

A song s-t-u-c-k in my brain like a worm the last couple of days has been “Fix You” by Coldplay from their X&Y album (if you haven’t heard it, stop what you’re doing and go download it or,  for those of you a tad more technologically challenged, click on the pink “Fix You” words above for a link to the video – you’re welcome. Now listen to it before reading the rest of this post).

I’ll wait.

Still waiting. (Uncle Toddy, have Gma’s second favorite grandchild help you. Mama CBXB, I will help you. Uncle Lew, you’re fucked unless Aunt Patti knows how to do it.)

OK, then.

In honor of Aunt Crazy Pants, raise those gin rickey’s (or Black Velvet and Diet 7Up, whichever you’re feeling) high in the air, as we celebrate how much we miss her and hate the fuck out of cancer in my mixed lyric rendition of the song.

Fix You

When you try your best

But you don’t succeed

When you get what you want

But not what you need

When you feel so tired

But you can’t sleep

Stuck in reverse

And high up above

Or down below

When you’re too in love

To let it go

But if you never try

You’ll never know

Just what you’re worth

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And we did try to fix you

Tears stream

Down your face

When you lose something you cannot replace

Tears stream

Down your face

When you lose something you can’t replace

Tears stream

 Down your face

When you lose something you cannot replace

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And we don’t have to fix you

CBXB

 

Weekend Winks – Room With a View

Being that I’d been in slow recovery from my recent twirl down, resulting in a broken toe and concussion, it’d been a bit since I partook in any evening activities. This weekend called for a celebration of Bird Lady’s birthday and she chose to spend it at the fabulous Opryland Hotel in Nashville.

First Mate and yours truly arrived early to make sure the room approved our standards (I use the term “our” loosely as I used to be in a band and my standards are way lower than hers) – and did it ever. Except we didn’t find the refrigerator until just before checking out the next morning. It looked like it was a cupboard under the desk. How were we to know? So we ended up putting the ice maker to good use.

Blonde and Blonder.

We were also beyond excited about our balcony, overlooking the Garden Conservatory where we could judge people watch and sip our vino awaiting Bird’s arrival.

Room with a view.

Like, a gorgeous view.

Being that I’ve recovered from my recent concussion (which I confusingly refer to as my coma – so if you hear me say that, just roll with this blonde brained lady), it seemed like a fabulous idea to hang off the side of the balcony.

Not like I’m accident prone or anything.

Upon Bird Lady’s arrival, the celebration commenced.

Birthday Bird.

What’s a party without crowns?

Three times the fun.

Sushi was the choice of supper and for once, we asked someone else to take our photo. I mean, my arm does get tired when I have to take 1,978 selfies of us in order to get one approved by everybody.

Sushi, sake and smiles.

We then again asked for photo assistance while we played with horses and guitars.

If I had a bigger purse, the horse would have ended up at the mini manse.

Walking around the botanical garden-like wings of Opryland can be really pretty. Especially if you like fake flowers that are lit in your fave color, fuchsia – because that’s what was on display. And I not-so-quietly lost my fucking mind.

This definitely would be a lovely focal point in the mini manse.

Naturally, I had to get off the damn path and deflower the beautiful mesh sculpture for a photo-op.

Flower Power.

I was even able to coerce First Mate into joining in on the fun – although she is a classier woman than moi, so we posed in front of her favorite, rather than in the piece.

A whole lotta class with one gigantic ass.

After I threw a fit that this enormous hotel had no gluten free pizza, we headed back up to the room to polish off snacks.

Right before the party crash.

While I used to be the all-nighter, my sleepiness gets the best of me these days and I was the first to fall into bed.

Party pooped.

I spent a Sunday in my three of my favorite places…

The pool.

The bubbles.

The purrrrrrrrrrfect Pussy Posse.

I’m sure you are all keeping track just as closely as I am but as a reminder, my Iowa Hawkeyes start their football season in FOUR days.

In case you can’t count. Four.

See you on Saturday for touchdown shots!

CBXB

Weekend Winks – Bubbles, Books and a Birthday

It’s no secret that I’m batshit crazy.

However, due to the aftermath of Rapegate, I didn’t decorate my mini manse for the holidays for almost two years (this is the equivalent to giving my animals away). So it was serious business. When I put that goddamn glorious pink tinsel tree up this year, I didn’t have the heart to take it down. So it’s become my Celebration tree.

Just chalk it up to another reason I’m so fucking fabulous: cats, candles, books, and now a year round Christmas tree.

Christmas in July anyone?

At least it’s adorned with appropriate gear…flamingos, leis and sunglasses.

 

My cousin, B Master and his fam were traveling through Nashville and stopped for a quick bite to eat.

Being a bonus aunt doesn’t suck.

B Master had a relic with him and it’s a super doozie from a craft camp when he was a young lad.

A handmade wallet that won’t even properly hold a dollar bill.

However, it was designed to hold a photo of his favorite cousin, moi.

And, of course one himself.

As you can tell, good looks run in the family.

My side hustle is pet sitting and it was a fun week continued into the weekend with the foursome below.

Side hustle with this wild bunch for the week.

The bonus of this gig was the mega deep jet tub that I could hardly rip myself out of, as a bubble bath is my idea of heaven.

Friday Night Lights.

Princess B bucked up her bravery and had two teeth pulled.

No tears, no fear.

These days, the Tooth Fairy leaves behind a little more than I got back in the day.

Two bills a tooth, yo.

Even though Prince B didn’t have any teeth to yank, he proved his bravery by adorning his ninja warrior giddy up.

I’m glad he’s lacking a sword.

After a short recovery, it was time to head to an outdoor concert. Not sure why Prince B removed his red outfit.

Who wouldn’t wear a tutu to an outdoor concert?

Saturday was one of the most gorgeous of the summer, so Dada CBXB came in to enjoy the private pool at my side hustle (no, that also didn’t suck – along with the cute animals).

Sunning for fun.

A little gal pal gathering for our friend who was celebrating a big birthday and a move all in the same day.

Partay for a fave girlfriend, G Money.

Sunday was nothing short of a dream day for me. I woke up spooning a German Shepard, while butt-to-butt with the mutt and two cats on each side of my pillow. It took a long while for me to get my ass out of bed but when I did, I headed out to my private pool and relaxed the day away.

Sunday. Super, duper fun day.

After a book down in the pool and the sun said goodbye, I headed into that bliss bubble tub and read another.

I feel like I may have been a mermaid cat in another life.

I mean, hello!

Last week, I shared the love of rosé between Sister CBXB and myself in a post. My smart niece has taken to our slogan, “rosé all day.” You can imagine the family high fives when Bota Box liked the tweet, including my blog post.

Yes. Yes I will be her Auntager.

I’m already waiting by the phone for the Bota Box people to call my people. As well as prepping a filing system.

Just practicing for my future.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

The Stupid Cardinal

When Aunt Crazy Pants was fighting her fierce battle with fucking cancer, she told family to think of her every time we saw a cardinal after she passed. I took that advice and ran – it’s the best thing of my day when I see a red bird. And somehow, it always comes at a time that I’m trying to make a decision or on the verge of a panic attack. Funny how the universe works.

See a cardinal, think of me.

My Iowa twins also took that advice and sprinted.  Announcing whenever they would see a cardinal that it was ACP.

Birds of a feather.

But Princess B, especially, took to the notion.

If you’re gonna go, go all in.

This ties to the passing of my beloved sidekick, Precious the Chug. Presh (or Pweshy as the twins called her) was always a welcomed joy to my Iowa duo. Luckily she didn’t mind getting gussied up to impress her fashion upon them when we would head up to see the twins.

All glittered up and ready to go.

A nine-hour drive never deterred this dog’s ability to behave.

World’s Greatest Traveler.

It was a maulfest as soon as we’d arrive to the Iowa palace where my twins reside.

Hands on.

The squeeze.

One of their favorite parts of seeing Presh was walking her out and around the neighborhood.

Dynamic duo dog walkers.

Princess B always had to have alone time with her fave chug.

Walk Solo.

She’d be upset when we’d leave (I mean, what’s not to miss people), and it would tug at my heart strings something fierce. A video like the one below had me wanting to pack up my rust bucket and drive non-sensibly to Iowa from Nashville.

Luckily, it was time for Dada CBXB and myself to fly our sleigh in for Christmas shortly after receiving the tearful action shot of my takes-after-me-in-the-drama-department niece.

We’re baaaaaaaaaaack!

Precious was just so pleased.

Obviously.

A look of love.
Also, a look of hate.

We continued to change outfits and make a model of my canine.

Poser.

P was even fortunate enough to ride shotgun in Princess B’s new ride.

Cruisin’ for a bruisin’.

And then there was Presh’s cousin, Spike, who like everyone else before him fell in love with my little Ewok.

My horse-sized dogphew.

Spike and I have always had a tight bond, being the crazy animal lover that I am, letting him love attack me whenever he deemed necessary.

Snuggle buddies.

Dance partners. I took the lead, naturally.

Once Spike laid eyes on Precious, it was L.O.V.E.

A hard, romantic comedy type of love.

He barely left her side for a second, attentively watching P’s every move.

Making sure she was properly seated for all meals.

Letting her use his new Christmas bone first.

When it was clearly meant for a dog of a much larger stature.

When Presh had enough, she would sit on her throne and watch Spike roam around the couch, anticipating her jump down.

Waiting out the horse dog.

Preshy was already a member of the family because she was basically my fur covered spawn.

She cocktailed with us.

She cheersed with us.

She watched movies with us.

She played in the snow with us.

She dried off at the kitchen bar with us.

She forcefully posed with us.

In between visits, we’d Facetime with the kids and they always needed to know what the fuck Presh was up to (along with my other four fur kids). This past March, the Prince and Princess graced Nashville with their presence and you can guess who had the pleasure of being the guest of honor.

All tucked in.

All tuckered out.

Cuddle chug.

Walk Solo round two.

When we suddenly lost Precious a month ago, there are no words for the way my heart ached (and still does). But I don’t think anyone realized how hard it would smack Princess B. The day she found out, I was ordered to send all photos and videos I had of the chug to Sister CBXB for memories.

R.I.P. Sweet P.

When she was told that one day she would see Presh again (like in 140 years when my mini me passes away and reunites with all animals she’s loved), Princess B replied, “Yeah. AS A STUPID CARDINAL.”

Oh the reasoning of kids.

Yesterday, the twins were out walking their horse dog.

Spike is more manageable now that the kids are taller.

Princess Prance.

After getting these pics, I couldn’t help but smile that they were having fun with my dogphew. Then, this text came in from Sister CBXB.

I died. I laughed. I cried. A legacy left by Aunt Crazy Pants has now lead to comfort in areas of grieving for my little loves.

Maybe Princess B doesn’t think cardinals are so stupid after all.

I sure the fuck don’t.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – Legally Blonde, Margaritas and Partying On

This was one of the best weekends I’ve had in a long, long while. And everything started off on Friday – which as of now, will go down in my world as the most outstanding, fabulous fucking last day of the work week in history.

It all started when I saw on the news that over 250,000 peeps across the pond were protesting the person with the highest position in this country.

I kinda wanted to be a Brit there for a second on Friday.

My fave thing was the spin POTUS put on it…”Many, many protests in my favor.”

Uh huh.

Then I realized via social media that it was just 50 days until the Iowa Hawkeyes first kick-off of the season.

Bring on the swarm!

This was all before 8am. So I was already practically skipping around the office.

THEN SOMETHING ELSE FABULOUS HAPPENED.

You know, I lost my baby girl Precious three weeks ago.

Partner in crime, upstairs now doing her time.

Well, Mama CBXB is in Iowa watching the twins.

Camp Gigi

While Mama was perusing Instagram, Princess B looked over her shoulder and said, “Aunt Juju got a new puppy?”

Wait for it…

I wonder how she got the impression?

Oh hi. It’s just me. Aunt Juju Spoon.

Regardless, if I could still do a cartwheel, I would have been doing them in my stilettos.

More fun after work took place at Avo, where they make avocado margaritas that are beyond.

When I posted my pic on Instagram, Avo reposted on theirs. Pretty sure this means I’m now considered an influencer, right?

Right?

And ending the FriYAY off right, I’ve started a side hustle, Animal Queendom, pet sitting pooches and pussies. So I made a stop at a clients house for a cuddle.

Side hustle doesn’t suck.

Saturday was a sun’s out, bun’s out pool party kinda day.

Three pool stooges.

Prince B and Princess B were very busy catching lightning bugs while I was playing Shamu in the blue water.

Bug catcher shenanigans in very professional attire.

I put on very unprofessional attire to attend a birthday soirée for my Cycling Queen.

Celebrating the birthday gal.

Sunday as I was scrolling through social media, my Facebook memories popped up. While I have a love/hate relationship with them, this one was a photo of Aunt Crazy Pants from a wild night at Robert’s Western World six years ago.

“Take my picture! Put it on Facebook.” Direct quote from ACP.

Funny enough, it was also National Ice Cream Day yesterday too – her favorite fucking indulgence.

Coincidence? I think not.

Rainy Sundays are the best for being lazy as fuck. So, I wallowed in bed, reading a new book finding enough energy to move my ass to the bath.

Who’s the fave gonna be?

I have a new cable system that lets you talk into your remote (which has been around quite a few years but I am slow to change because I hate it BUT this has been a TV watching game changer). With this system, it also suggests new shows I may like because of my previously watched history.

I got sucked into binging a show called The Affair on Showtime.

WHERE HAS BINGING BEEN ALL MY LIFE?

And then it became a family watching affair. I could not stop.

Neither could Fabio.

Neither could Rocky.

Princess Elsa Pants was only present for the chin rubs.

Ruby Sue was the most committed.

I finally had to make Sleepytime tea because even my sleeping pill wasn’t making me want to tear my eyes away from the screen.

It worked.

I found myself waking up at the time I’m due to work this morning but still beat my boss in…although my so-greasy-it-might-have-bugs-in-it hair that I was supposed to wash is in a bun (thank gawd for long hair). As I was scrambling around the mini manse to get my ass to work in 20 minutes, these three were beyond concerned.

Go earn us food money.

Here’s hoping your Monday is as chill as my pussies.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!