When this happens…
While 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.
Or…maybe you shouldn’t because I might burst into flames.
Being that I’m a lucky lady, I scored a ticket to the Eric Church concert in Nashville this weekend. Naturally the most important element of concert prep is putting together my concert attire. And I tend to always go understated.
Once the giddy up was on, I trotted down to a local honky tonk where I ran into an Arizona buddy that I haven’t seen in years. Once we started talking, it seemed like we were in the high school hallway yesterday.
My choice in outerwear proved to be a wise one as it easily turned into a bar pillow.
It also upped T Man’s bland outfit at one point in the evening.
Leopard went straight to T Man’s head because he ever so graciously took photos of himself while using my phone.
What would a concert be like without a cocktail?
seven a couple of Skinny Pirates might not have been so smart, as a life sized devil appeared during one of Mr. Church’s songs, making me want to sprint to the nearest House of Worship.
I awoke Sunday to a very pissed off pussy (who might as well have been the life size devil at the show) because he lost a wee bit of beauty sleep due to my Saturday night shenanigans.
I was relieved to find my phone in check, as I had lost my Louis Vuitton clutch twice during the previous evening – once in the arena and I then left it in the Uber cab (I don’t know how in the world this happened as I had a cross body bag on to prevent me losing anything. Major fail). But faith has been restored in humanity as not only was my clutch waiting for me at guest relations but the Uber driver came back by to see that my clutch found its way back to my mini manse. Phew.
Upon charging my very dead phone, this is the face that greeted me as it powered back on.
Not only was I excited for the Golden Globes yesterday, I about pissed my pants in delight when I used my local grocery store’s points at the pump, making each gallon less than a dollar.
While under lock down in Iowa due to bone chilling temps, my twins are approaching a small milestone.
Prince and Princess B will soon be entering a horrific phase (for their parents)…
In anticipation for my fave awards show, I thought I’d try to mimic the little golden statue by using a similar colored face mask while soaking in the tub but it did nothing but make me still look like me.
It was then time to decide which healthy treats I should grant myself while watching the red carpet after eating my way through the holidays.
And then the fabulous trio that resides in my mini manse gathered on the couch for the Golden Globes.
Some things never change.
The Nashville weekend started early with a chance to go see a Beatle in all of his glory – for free!
Taking full advantage of what our suite had to offer, waiting for Sir Paul to take the stage wasn’t difficult.
Gals on a budget know what to do when presented with free food.
The concert was beyond fantastic, with Sir Paul playing for nearly three hours.
Naturally I had to snap my photo with the rock star and I’m pretty sure it turned out good enough to be my Christmas card this year.
Seems that flying on a kick ass concert high can be sucked right out of you the following afternoon when involved in a minor parking lot accident.
With someone who doesn’t speak English.
It did seem as if there was a small rain cloud over my head because while walking to a concert (yes, my third night in a row and yes, I’m still exhausted) I managed to get shit on by a bird. Without noticing it in my hair or my hand until I looked down to take a long guzzle of wine at the bar pre-show and then rushed to the bathroom.
Classy lady in the bar alert!
When the concert finally ended (Bluegrass shows promise two acts on the ticket, then invite everyone they know to come and play a song, which can make a concert last four hours), I mosied my way back to the mini manse to find this prize waiting for me by the door…
Ted had a bum ear last week that he wouldn’t leave alone, therefore was forced into being in an uncomfortable state (you know, because he acted like the cone weighed 500 fucking pounds).
It seemed like a small miracle the ear healed because every time I turned around Mr. Bear had weaseled himself out of the embarrassing accessory.
And then puked his way out of it.
Good news arrived via text on Saturday morning proving that my niece, Princess B is going to grow up and be a rock star.
It was also a big game day, as my blogging buddy Mark Bialczak’s alma mater was playing mine this weekend in college football. We had a virtual pinky bet that the loser had to post a big, smiling photo of the winner enjoying the game.
But in the end my team, the Iowa Hawkeyes were out played by the Maryland Terps and lost 31-38.
We took it pretty hard.
But after we drowned in our sorrows for 30 seconds, we realized there was more football to watch, more snacks to eat and more cocktails to cuddle.
Who says sore losers can’t be smiling? Mark’s victorious photo will be posted on the blog soon.
Enjoy your week and be careful in parking lots…
For CBXB, it’s rock ‘n’ roll all night….and pay for it the entire next day.
It was a girls’ night out in Nashville as Motley Crue brought their farewell tour to honky-tonk central.
six two rounds of pre-party cocktails we headed to the arena, where we stocked up on more libations before going in to see Alice Cooper, the opening act, pretend to be decapitated on stage.
Naturally, after the besiege of concert cocktails we felt it necessary to hold a photo shoot at every location in which we graced our presence.
With all of our modeling, we almost forgot that there was an actual reason we’d come to the Bridgestone Arena. Luckily for us, we didn’t miss Tommy Lee’s impressive drum solo he performed while his kit moved up and down the lighted truss at .000000001 mph.
After the concert it made perfect sense to do an additional whiskey shot in celebration of the kick ass farewell concert performance Motley Crue delivered. But something in my mind was doubting my capabilities to get up for work the next morning.
Naturally I downed that whiskey like it was Pepto Bismol, which is why I look so effortlessly chic and fabulous today.
While my exterior appearance mimics exactly how I’m feeling on the inside, I need to get my shit together as I get to do the same thing all over again tonight when attending a Sir Paul McCartney concert.
For free. In a suite. With food. And booze. Free booze.
My liver is screaming “kill me now” with my feet expressing their disdain for my attempt to prance around in my high-heeled hooker boots for a second night in a row. But who cares what my feet think, I’m going to see a music legend, right?
And as Paul McCartney says….Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da life goes on bra.
Although I have a feeling my motto tomorrow will be more along the lines of “Live and Let Die.”
The Fourth of July holiday weekend took me out of Nashville and on a road trip. Much to my dismay, a stop at Kentucky Fried Chicken was part of my journey.
Did you know that KFC proudly serves buffet style?
I opted for anything that didn’t require being served from the dishes and serving utensils surely manhandled by 1,437 people before me. So I got a boxed meal to go, which made me get creative in the bathroom as I didn’t want to set it down on the floor, baby changing station, counter top or any other space that looked as if it hadn’t been disinfected since 1999.
Holiday attire is a big must in my book and I was beyond delighted to find mini top hats awaiting my arrival.
As I was taking fancy up a notch, my dad was busy being the “King of Awesomeness” (who made him this pin? WHO?!) which I assume is a button he will never, ever, ever forget to put on any shirt he wears for the rest of his life.
What about those chubby cheeked twins I adore so in Iowa? They, too, were decked out in their finest holiday threads just like Auntie CBXB.
I was asked to jump on stage and sing with a band that’s been celebrating with Fourth of July shows for the last 20 years.
In preparation, my Miami Mini Me helped calm my nerves as she kept a countdown as to how many songs were left before my big debut.
While MMM was tallying up the minutes before I took the stage, I prepped with mouth exercises to ensure I would be able to get all of my words out.
Wondering how excited everyone else was for the big performance?
One of my tens of fans headed out to the car without announcing his departure.
He was overly eager with anticipation to my performance and needed to nap it off.
After my debut, we were able to really let our hair down and party.
Not only did we partake in cocktails but we also practiced one of my fave pastimes.
Not to be outdone, my dad had to get in on the photo-bombing action, even if it was mocked up for him.
What else does a holiday weekend entail?
An omelet party, featuring Bloody Marys and mimosas.
A parade in which I used a Fourth of July decoration as my own personal scepter.
A magnum of wine that had to be consumed.
passing out naps on concrete retaining walls.
Not to leave me hanging, MMM decided to get a little shut-eye after all of the events as well.
On the way back to Nashville, I rode next to Bret Michaels the entire way.
I was welcomed back to Music City by a fabulous care package from my gal pal and fellow blogger Lisa Johnson Sawyer.
Wanna know what else was full of happiness upon my return home?
Here’s hoping you’re fully recovered from your Fourth of July holiday weekend…I’m not.