Weekend What Day Is It Does It Matter Winks

Well, I for one, started this Ronacation off on the right foot. I wasn’t gonna let a worldwide pandemic keep me from fabulousness.

Safer at home day one.

I am fortunate to have the ability to work remotely and got my home desk all prepped and set.

Home office in the pussy room.

My desk is located in The Pussy Posse wing of the Mini Manse so, naturally, I have to display all things feline as to not wound the fragile feelings that cats pretend they own.

For those of you wondering, of course, I have pussies crawling all over me every damn day and I do not hate it. Not one bit.

But as the days rolled into weeks rolled into a month and then got all kinds of blurry as to what day of the week it actually was started taking a toll on my sparkly look. I morphed fairly quickly into a greasy-haired, messy bun, I-took-a-bath-so-I don’t-need-to-wash-my-hair-for-three-weeks, whatever-I’m-wearing-must be comfy-lady.

I’ve woken up like this precisely 32 days in a row now.

I’ve even taken things down 1,876,899 notches when taking Zoom calls, forgetting there’s a fucking video camera attached to the computer call. Blonde is hard.

I think many of us hold literal press conferences when we can say…

I mean, showering is not hard, right? But it’s so easy to skip washing my hair if I take a bath and because it’s long, I choose to wear the grease trap in a whale tail (a halved ponytail) or messy bun. If I get to feeling really fancy, I will shower AND wash AND then put deep conditioner in my hair, resulting in a wet bun for another five days (I am always cautious when taking my hair down from said wet bun, as I am not sure if it will have molded or if a kitten is hiding in there).

But the most impressive feat comes about every 14 days when I actually wash AND condition AND dry my locks.

There she is!

My Iowa twins are home from school the rest of this semester with planning for fall classes to resume. Like almost every other person I have seen on social media, the kids have started tie dying. Actually, I think this a prerequisite for Rona quarantine.

Am I the only one not doing this art?

If there’s anything my family knows how to do, it’s snack making. And Princess B is on it. She made her first batch of Rotel last Sunday and it was so tempting to get into my car (that wouldn’t make it down the block right now) and drive the nine hours to taste it.

Chef-boyarprincessdee

While Sister CBXB is teaching her kids how to cook, I’m letting mine snack when, where and on whatever they want to get them to shut the fuck up.

Rocky gettin cheezy.

I can’t stuff anything into my mouth without the prying puppy dog eyes from Prissy. I’ve conquered making a hot dog not fit into a hamburger bun. Rona probs.

A dog wanting a dog.

It’s a motherfucking shame that it’s taken a global pandemic to get family and friends to virtually gather. It’s not hard and why weren’t we doing this long before Rona?!

Virtual happy hours with friends near and far have helped me with my missing of in real life human connection.

A day in the life of quarantined CBXB looks a bit like the drawing I so accurately rendered below.

The Pussy Posse has a love/hate relationship with me right now.

While Tennessee is under a safer-at-home mandate until tomorrow, Nashville is under one until further notice. Mayor Cooper isn’t going to open the city until there are 14 days of COVID cases on the decline. Everyone has such mixed feelings but I think we can all agree it’s a fucking shame that kids are missing out on life milestones. In my apartment complex, it was shared that one of our resident’s daughters was turning 18, missing prom and her high school graduation. So her mom asked residents to decorate their balconies and come out of our places that evening for a surprise parade.

I still don’t know her name. But what a fucking fabulous feeling, helping spread a little joy with a community of neighbors whose names I mostly don’t know either.

All in this shitshow Rona prom/birthday/high school graduation parade together.

Speaking of prom, actor John Krasinski hosted a virtual prom last weekend for those missing out. On Instagram he wrote, “That’s right class of 2020, I’m DJing your prom with some friends this Friday night 8EST/5PST!!”

Best idea ever.

Due to it being a virtual prom, anyone could attend and Sister CBXB did it up right.

Prom Prince, Prom Princess, Prom chaperone.

Princess B got to wear one of her dance recital outfits, as it’s been canceled. Obvies looked adorbs. Prince B opted to go with a business on top, comfy on the bottom ensemble. Also, obvies adorbs.

All dressed up with somewhere to go!

Thankfully the weather in Music City has been pleasant (I mean after the tornado and whatnot). These two outside babies had their own kittens two weeks ago.

Rolo and Girlie Girl post-delivery of kittens.

These two petite sisters were born last April. I didn’t get them into the clinic in time for spaying before the tornado and then Rona hit. They got pregnant in the meantime and had kids. My little babies had babies. Eek. I have yet to see the kittens but I can hear them under the stairs. The Nashville Humane Society is going to take the kittens that I haven’t homed once they’ve weaned and socialized. As for the mamas, Rolo has found herself a home with my girl Rocky Ryan! We’re gonna meet up for the pussy exchange when it’s safe.

Going to be an Iowa Hawkeye!

Girlie Girl is still looking for a furrever abode. She’s sweet, petite, a purrer and I’ve finally gotten to pick her up for cuddles. Also, she and Prissy touch noses every morning, so she’s cool with dogs, too.

A pose for your consideration.

Social distance drinking is one of the events that can be done with nice weather! Last weekend, First Mate and I were able to enjoy separate boxes of our beloved Bota Box Rosé together but apart.

Two girls, two boxes, two dogs, safe distance.

When I put the above photo on Instagram, I was trying not to piss my pants pleasantly surprised when the actual Bota Box company “liked” my photo. It’s not like I rushed to any conclusions or anything.

While I know we are all dealing with this pandemic on different levels, it’s comforting to know that we’re in this together, apart. I can’t begin to express my gratitude for all of the essential employees and those working in the medical field.

And if you are safer-at-homing it but must go out, be sure you have the appropriate attire for Rona. I mean, this may be a tad extra but you get the point.

Not letting Rona steal my fabulousness.

Stay safe. Stay healthy.

Love ya, mean it.

CBXB

CBXB!

Buy Me a Drink

 

My Viral Birthday

Holy fucking shit.

The tornado that ripped through middle Tennessee wasn’t even one month ago.

While the region was reeling, the global pandemic made its debut the day after the tornado with the first confirmed diagnosis in the state.

Now, I know many folks who showed up in droves to volunteer after the tornado are starting to test positive for COVID. I think this is largely due to the massive amount of good humans who showed the fuck up to help neighbors after a natural disaster. Since then, the Coronavirus has thwarted a lot of the efforts being made by organizations, supplies, volunteers, hard-hit businesses, etc.

But here we are in the throes of a global pandemic and we all have a fucking front row seat. My VIP ticket happened to include my first ever birthday in quarantine.

Oh hi! You feel like celebrating with people now? Too bad.

Since Rapegate, I would have been down to par-tay in isolation on past birthdays.

But not this year. Oh no. This is the first year where the bitch is baaaack to finding all things joy and ready to celebrate the entire year month week day. So I did just that in spite of a fucking global pandemic. I celebrated my face off.

We partied and Prissy force loved it.

While the circumstances were not the most epically fabulous, my peeps far and wide celebrated with me. Boston Barbie had a bottle of champs with me via FaceTime and sent a pizza for supper.

Quarantined prezzies were sent and loved hard.

Text messages and social media wishes kept a smile on my face.

First Mate tapped on my window and brought her own airplane sized bottle (is that what they are really called?) of fancy vino over and poured it into her own glass.

I almost burnt down the Mini Manse baked my own gluten-free birthday cake. While it was not on the top ten (or top 100) sweets I’ve ever tasted, it went down the hatch like a charm (I think it was because of all the sprinkles). Please feel free to spoil my hips after this shitshow is over with all of the gluten-free goodies. I won’t hate it.

Look the fuck out Martha Stewart.

While I’m now certain I can star in my very own baking show of failures (waiting for the phone to ring cooking channel), my gal pal in Scotland came up with an acronym for “when all this is over” – WATIO – and posed the question on her Instagram.

What I want even more WATIO, is for you and your loved ones to be alive, healthy and ready to celebrate your faces off with me on my half birthday bash on September 25, 2020.

Until then, stay the fuck home. Let’s make my half birthday party go viral for reasons other than a worldwide pandemic.

Love ya, mean it.

CBXB

CBXB!