Weekend Winks – Panic, Boos! and Pussy Shenanigans

Friday started on the right foot with some prep for a Halloween party at the office tomorrow.

However, things took a hard turn when I had a panic attack out of fucking nowhere after lunch. I had to leave work, after catching my breath and then I managed to throw up while driving down the interstate. With my head out the window like a dog. And still  got my empty stomach contents all over my shoulder and down the inside of my door.

Adulting is hard.

I threw my newest armour on that I received last week via mail with no note. Now, obviously the sender really knows me, as the shirt not only included sparkly pink text, it read, “Onward Buttercup there’s fuckery to spread.” I had posted a blog about my own personal Harvey Weinstein on Friday (thinking back, possible trigger for a panic attack), and got this text from the sender.

I have the best friends.

Unable to un-tense any section of my body (even my eyeballs ached), I wallowed on the leopard couch, played Words With Friends that pissed me off when realizing my favorite state isn’t really considered a word.

WTF?

I was joined in snuggles from Iowa by my sister and Princess B.

Miles apart but the same at heart.

I was being mauled by my fur balls and I didn’t hate a second of it.

Fierce feline snuggles from Ruby Sue.

Precious and Rocky joined in, too.

I was mighty happy the Iowa game didn’t start until 5:30 pm on Saturday, so I was able to do one out of 100 loads of laundry I should have done, lay on the couch, and watch my 81-year-old boyfriend Lee Corso on ESPN’s College Game Day rock a skeleton outfit. It was pretty much a perfect fucking all day.

Game day ready.

Extremely conflicted as to wear a costume, Iowa Hawkeye gear or a combo of both, I went for the gaudier side. A little Halloween and a whole lotta Hawkeye.

Conflicted costume.

Traveling out to Dada CBXB’s for the game (also known as Pamela Anderson to my Kid Rock this time of year), we got to see Cousin Eddie and Clark that I originally rescued but they took to my dad so much so, that I wrapped them up and gave him to them for Christmas two years ago. He can’t tell them apart and calls them Cat 1 and Cat 2.

To me it’s beyond obvious.

Cousin Eddie

Clarkie

We were all Skinny Pirated up and ready for the 5:30 kick-off. Some of our crowd were more excited than others…

Although the first half was kind of a snore, my Hawkeyes pulled out a win and we take those no matter how ugly!

Two touchdown and one victory shot! Whoop!

We then settled down with nightcaps of Manhattans courtesy of my BIL’s famous recipe.

Nighty night.

I slept the most consecutive hours Saturday night in as long as I can remember. TEN hours. TEN! I’ve been averaging maybe four per evening the past two years, so saying I felt like a new lady is an understatement.

To top off the start to my Sunday, I was treated by Dada’s world-famous cheese omelette (according to him) which is one of my fave things he cooks.

Ah, yeah baby.

My Iowa twins couldn’t decide which holiday they wanted to celebrate more…

From Halloween. To Christmas. Back to Halloween.

Pumpkin perfecting.

With some elbow grease to finish.

Paw Patrol is still big at the Twin Castle, and my handy sister was able to create adorable ensembles for the most adorable duo on the planet.

Skye

Zuma

Then, all hell broke loose for me when fucking Facebook popped up a memory from a year ago and feelings started to seep into my soul. This time every year, I would be prepping Teddy Bear’s costume – this is the first time in eight years I haven’t been able to do it. And top that off with it being National Cat Day, I had a come apart of epic proportions.

Hole in my heart over my main squeeze who is gone too soon.

Not wanting my current fur babies to feel left out, (as I do have the cutest kids on the fucking block), I still celebrated my fave four pussies, of course.

My fab four. Rocky, Fabio, Ruby Sue and Elsa Pants.

I’ll leave you with a little wisdom one of my Nashville sistas gave me in regard to closing out 2017, looking forward to a new year:

Anyone have any cheese for my cracker?

CBXB

Weekend Winks – Holy Shits, Dips and Shots

There’s all kinds of crazy taking place in my Nashville bubble and I can’t say that I hate it.

Precious and I made our Billboard.com debut in music artist Ryan Kinder’s “Still Believe in Crazy Love,” (scroll all of the way to the bottom of the article to watch the entire) video. There’s a long, fabulous story behind this experience I will share later (regarding Rapegate) but I did what any normal person does when they have their two seconds of fame.

Celebrating on a budget.

No pawtographs, please.

Naturally, I had to go out to toast my newfound famousness and First Mate was happy to oblige my obsession with myself.

Why am I not being bombarded?

While I basked in my glow of nothingness, the Iowa twins continue to morph into little people and are more hilarious than ever.

Princess B has been rocking pigtails, enjoying the Indian summer above the Mason Dixon line while she cheers her bro on in anything sports related.

Smiles for miles.

No. No it does not get any cuter.

Speaking of sports, I’ve been nil reporting on our tailgating shenanigans and Dada CBXB and I were in full force this weekend.

Her version of tailgating.

Our version of tailgating included almost every liquor under the sun, my dad’s self-dubbed “World Famous Wings,” the blogfamous “Eat Shit and Die Guacamole,” and snacks to soak up our hope of scoring any points against the number four ranked Penn State.

Spread right.

I made sure to be gussied up with sparkles and shine for a little extra luck for my Hawks.

Black, gold and perfectly bold Keds for Kate Spade sneakers.

Trying to one up Gwen Stefani by wearing my boyfriend’s face on my shirt instead of my shoe.

Much to our delight, we were able to do a traditional touchdown shot right before halftime because the Hawkeyes scored. Yeehaw!

We just wanted to drink….we didn’t think it’d actually be a good game!

As the second half wore on, our Cinderella team grew thisclose to beating the Nittany Lions with a last minute touchdown. Did you hear me screaming Saturday night?

 

The Hawkeyes did not hear my victory cries because they lost during the last play of the game with four seconds left. But we did an “E” for effort shot and are proud fans for hanging that close as an unranked, always overlooked team.

How ’bout them Hawks?!

Losers brunch was delish, as it was my dad’s self-dubbed “World Famous Omelette,” which never disappoints.

Breakfast of non-champions.

It’s been just over a month since I suddenly lost the furry little love of my life, Ted. And while I can’t yet write a full post about the magnitude of his loss to me, I miss him every single second of every single day.

But funny how I saw this Facebook memory and within minutes received a message from the gal who runs the cat rescue in which I’m a poster child, saying there may be someone I should go check out at Pet Smart if I was ready.

I have a love/hate relationship with the fucking memories that pop up on Facebook daily.

It took all of four seconds with my torso in the kennel to decide what the next chapter of pussy life will be like at the mini manse.

READY

A little shopping around with my newest pussy and shooting our first selfie before heading home.

Who doesn’t do this?

While the newest member of the fam has decided his fave place is under my bed, updates will follow as I mold him into my sidekick. Boy, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s in for – hope he’s ready by Halloween for matching outfits.

Here’s to having a fabulous week.

Cheers!

CBXB

 

Weekend Winks – Can’t Steal My Sunshine

The past 240 days of 2016 have put me in a seemingly endless downward spiral, creating a monster of a walking, talking freak show shell of myself because when bad shit happens to good people, everyone responds differently. In my case, I’ve been left in a constant state of limbo for nearly 9 months, in which actions of those in authority performed, conducted demanded (by me) on my behalf were out of my control (a fucking nightmare for an OCD maniac such as moi).

Being wound tighter than a yo-yo that hasn’t been used since 1972, good news was delivered Friday morning that made me happier than in as long as my memory can serve me (which isn’t saying much these days). The kind of happy that makes you feel intoxicated in the absence of booze (of course that didn’t last long). The kind of happy that makes you feel genuine joy. The kind of happy that gives you a glimmer of hope, a sliver of validation and sparkling reminder that karma is a motherfucker when it’s doled out to those who deserve it.

The kind of happy that feels like sunshine.

The celebration between a mother and her little fucker.

As tidings of joy (god, I can’t wait for Christmas) spread, my support group helped me celebrate from coast to coast.

Love in the form of a 12 pack from Atlanta.

Feted with flowers from gal pal and blogging bestie  Princess Rosebud from Cali.

Good thing for me the celebrating didn’t end with Skinny Pirates on Friday night. The party trickled into Saturday, where I didn’t have to choose a fave booze to holler’n’swaller t0 while cheering on my beloved Iowa Hawkeyes.

Room for all of my nearest and dearest game day delights.

A small hair of the dog did take the Friday night bite out of the 11am kick-off.

Even the tailgate crew gussied up in their game day finest.

Glitterati is a good sport.

Trying to keep our average American figures in check, our tailgate spread remained low carb (but who gives a rat’s ass how many are in your cocktail, amIright?).

Healthy spread to offset the dehydration of livers.

I even cooked something without a recipe…yes. Be ah-mazed. Because I still am.

Cauliflower crusted buffalo chicken pizza.

Family tradition continued the shenanigans of good fortune with touchdown shots.

Shot one! But not done.

Two and through.

The Hawkeyes eeked out a victory (a win is a win no matter how ugly) and while I take a victory even if not proudly, my heart about burst with delight when I received this video of Princess B.

 

I know that you are now overflowing with patriotism. I mean, who couldn’t after that rendition of the Pledge of Allegiance?  And, speaking of overflow, here’s hoping all of you peeps in Iowa are staying as dry as possible although the waters seem to keep rising.

Four feet of sandbags and still a raging river in Cedar Rapids.

The rest of my weekend was spent deciding what mini manse improvement projects I should do now that I have a little pep back in my step. It’s amazing how much an ounce of relief can revive your spirit. My pal Mills made the suggestion below and I think it’s something that even I could handle in a day’s work.

I mean, I already have the bag of wine, I just need to find massive shower clips. Who can help?

The pussy posse dominated my Sunday, demanding some mama time. I’m sure you can guess who still remains king of the castle though, right?

Thank God I have enough body mass for all of them.

While I’m not a political pot stirrer, I couldn’t help but fall truly, madly, deeply in love with this shirt

Love trumps hate.
Truth trumps dishonesty.
Karma trumps asshats.

Here’s hoping nothing steals your sunshine this week.

Cheers!

Weekend Winks – Celebratory Shenanigans

Oh so many reasons to get into the party mood (as if I ever need an excuse) this past weekend!

A new job! My birthday! Easter!

Celebrating a new job and my 22nd-ish year on the planet at the same time.

Lucky for me, this year my birthday happened to land on a Friday, which was a double whammy of fun as the last day of the work week almost always finds me at my local watering hole Dalts.

A decked out Skinny Pirate waiting my arrival.

The evening started out with the typical crew…

Dada CBXB, yours truly and Camo.

Naturally, I wasted no time getting wasted my drink on.

Birthdays taste so damn good.

As the night moved along, other friends graced my trashtacular ass with their presence and the shenanigans began to up their ante (mostly due to my behavior, of course).

A drunk girl, another birthday girl and my brutha from another mutha.

I mean, what’s not to love after eight Skinny Pirates and I lost count of how many birthday shots came my way?!

But never fear, my knight in shining Uber armour appeared!

Poor Nova, wishing he’d made better choices than appearing at Dalts to buy me a birthday cocktail.

Waking up feeling not at all like Kate Upton the following morning, I proceeded to the fridge for my go-to after the night after partying liquid. A real Coke.

I woke up like this.

Slight problem for this blonde. There wasn’t a goddamn single Coke in my fridge which hasn’t happened since 2004 when I lost my first job. But, no problemo! I was just gonna hop in my chariot and run to the gas station.

Only when I walked out of the mini manse with keys in hand, I hazily realized my car was at Dalts.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. No Coke. No Diet Coke. No tea. No coffee. And this chick needed her caffeine.  After a very close come apart, I scoured the fridge one more time and…it was a birthday miracle folks!

Do you see what I see? Yes, clear in the way back.

Nestling into the couch, reviewing my celebratory messages, I received one of those “I love you but seriously bless your heart” texts from a Lady friend.

Truth hurts.

Speaking of cats, I was able to muster the energy to hang with the fur balls while sipping in my caffeine.

More cats please.

I mean seriously. That face!

Obvies Ted is everyone’s main squeeze when it comes to the cuddles, so I left the pussies on the couch to do much more pressing things like open up gifts from my Prince and Princess in Iowa.

Except I couldn’t get the box open.

I wish I may, I wish I might open this fucking box tonight.

Well the effort was well worth it being that these two masterpieces were inside.

Obvious mini Picassos on the rise.

Then it was on to my fave snail mailed cards and this was the first and best one I opened.

Good thing I rarely use my burners as glitter hearts fell out of the fabulous card.

Onto the Easter shenanigans that greeted us on Sunday, my fave twins patiently awaited the arrival of Gpa, my Dada CBXB, that they lovingly refer to as Coo Coo.

Sleep sacked and Mrs. T in their finest attire.

No spoiling here.

And the Easter Bunny didn’t miss those sweet Prince and Princess B.

Easter down south was in full swing with Presh dressed pretty as a princess.

I was busy playing Suzy Homemaker with less than desired results in the form of a failed bunny pie.

Way more of a back story for this piece of art.

I also tried to burn my mini manse down by turning the burner full of golden sparkle hearts on to boil eggs that weren’t even on the right heating device.

Eating is much more my forte than cooking.

Thank God there was someone else making all of the other fixins.

Fat, happy and a bit tipsy is a weekend done right in my book.

Presh couldn’t agree more.

Here’s hoping the bunny found you.

Cheers!

CBXB

Weekend Winks – Thrones ‘n’ Football

Multi-screens in the mini manse, shit dip, moonshine and a brand new throne made this weekend divine.

Revenge of the shit dip.

After what felt like a year-long week, Saturday morning came a little too early after a little bit of boozing on Friday night.

Looking how I feel. And yes, I’m the jackass who wears sunglasses in the supermarket.

I also got my ass handed to me by Princess B – you know, my fact checker for this blog.

Not sure she likes what she’s reading.

She couldn’t stop herself from giving editorial notes while admiring herself on the small screen.

But wait, here’s what it should have looked like.

After enduring the creative notes from my niece, I hustled to get ready for the weekly tailgate my folks and I have each Saturday.

Little did we know this was a spread in search of a game.

Our tasty treats also included my gal pal Katie B’s infamous shit dip. It consists of corn, cream cheese and butter. And it tastes like heaven in your mouth.

And requires a side of toilet paper.

Trust me.

Click here for the recipe

You’re seriously going to need this.

Anyone else have Comcast as their cable provider? Anyone else want to tell Comcast to suck shit?

On Saturday morning, TV the guide listed either my Iowa Hawkeye game or the Penn State game was going to air.

I checked online for the TV listings. No luck.

I called and talked to three different Comcast departments for over an hour with three of the same answers…

“We’re sorry, we can’t tell you what will air.”

How in the hell can the cable provider not know what they’re going to show? How? HOW?

Sure enough, kick-off time rolled around and the Penn State game appeared on TV in the Nashville area. So we turned my mini manse into a multi-screened viewing area with the help of my lap top and live streaming.

Just like a sports bar. Only less classy.

During the TV shenanigans, New Cat became a man whore.

Mauling Gpa.

Mauling Gma.

Mauling Mama.

Not one to miss out on any action, Teddy gave his own version of a lap dance.

An ass to Gma’s face felt appropriate.

Although we had to squint to watch our game, touchdowns still required our family tradition of moonshine shots.

TD Baby!

The halftime show consisted of a pussy trying to commit suicide, another unable to feign any emotion for the suicidal cat and a grandpa oblivious to either scene taking place around him.

Where’s a marching band when you need one?

During the second half of the game New New got so handsy with Gpa that he didn’t want to share, giving anyone that came close a death stare.

Back off or I’ll bite.

I spent the rest of the third in the bathroom due to my copious amounts of my fave dip.

Shit happens.

It was a good thing I’d eaten my weight in corn, as two touchdown and a victory shot waited for me in the fourth quarter.

Popcorn Sutton White Whiskey for everyone!

Which made the rest of the afternoon feel like…

Moonshine mania makes the world spin.

And copious amount of moonshine may or may not be why my masterpiece of a pizza turned out like this for supper…

Don’t drink and cook.

But not surprisingly, I ate it anyway.

Sunday found me admiring my Miami Mini Me’s newest hair accessory.

Yes she’s fabulous. And yes, I’m borrowing that bow!

And what could be more ah-mah-zing than being gifted my very own throne on a lazy afternoon?

Nothing.

Hello my love. How did I ever live without you?!

A classy chair for a trashtacular lady.

While I was careful to use only my wrist to wave so as not to jiggle my arm fat, this one sprawled out on his throne with a jiggly belly proudly exposed.

You want me to wave a paw at you or something? Fuck off.

From our thrones to yours, here’s hoping your week is off to a fabulous start!

CBXB