Two Ghouls Are Better Than One

Oh Halloween, how I’ve always loved thee. The 31st day of October was – and still remains – the kick-off to a long-awaited holiday season for me.

I'll cut a bitch

Even at the tender age of three, I’d cut a bitch.

With an assist from my dad.

Letting Dada CBXB (you know, the guy who dresses up like Pam Anderson) do all of the carving work because even way back my nails were “jewels, not tools”.

In a small Iowa town where I was raised, we had costume parties at school and church (when you used to be able to call it a Halloween party complete with witches and bats, instead of a fucking bland Fall Festival with scarecrows and hay bales – why are there fun haters? Why?), parades to prance proudly down our eight block Main Street (where every single one of the 1,200 citizens showed up) and so much trick-or-treating mania, I’d have to come home halfway through the evening just to dump my candy (hiding it all from my dad in the dryer or it’d be gone by morning) because my pumpkin got so overloaded, it was too heavy for me to carry.

hall

Forget my adorableness for one second – what about the clown behind #165?

ped

The Halloween parade. A spectator sport for the entire town.

In my younger years, I carried the burden of celebrating Halloween by myself and being a lone Cookie Monster got frustrating.

Ho Hum

One is the loneliest number.

Begging my parents to procreate, I was presented with Sister CBXB (you know, the one who called my dad a goddamn son of a bitch at the age of four) who was immediately awarded with side kickin’ it as my lifetime partner-in-crime (lucky her). If I was going to be dressing up (oftentimes making an ass out of myself in later years) she was going to be doing it too, by god (town parades included).

In the beginning of our twosome, we were all about cutesy costumes.

Sugar'n' Spice

The rock star and Raggedy Ann. A little sugar for my spice.

The ‘cute’ theme seemed to carry on in our early years.  Except for the tilt in our heads…and the fog in the background…and the overall sinisterness of this photo.

Creepy Hollow

Cute masked crusaders in Creepy Hollow.

As we grew older, I wanted a little edge (well as much edge as an elementary kid and toddler could muster) to our giddy ups. I let my young inner badass out, as my sister scared the pants off no one.

very busy

That’s right. I was hardcore even in elementary school.

We slid slightly into the ghoulish department as my sister joined me in grade school.

Scardey Crow

Scaredy crow and premature mini old man. Almost spine-chilling. Almost.

Then I graduated to truly frightening and fearful territory as I crept toward junior high.  Pebbles was not impressed.

Pebs

I’m also starting to wonder if there was any other color of hair paint than green, since that tends to be a trend here.

When we thought we were oh so grown up, our costumes reflected our mature attitudes.

Lady and the Tramp.

Lady and the Tramp. Or Princess and Sock Hop Girl…however you want to look at it.

We were reminded in following years just how far from adults we were…especially yours truly. A recycled mask and costume from a previous Halloween hid my “I’m way too old for this shit” attitude toward trick-or-treating when I was forced to go with my younger sister.

Barley a Boo

I can’t tell who’s more excited – the monster or the witch.

And being older we’re not so much cute, cuddly or even scary creatures…we’re just mostly cocktailed.

bl

The odd couple. Pocahontas and Kid Rock.

Now that we’re miles apart during the costuming time of year, it’s fun to look back at our sisterly ghosts of Halloween’s past. But what’s even more fun is seeing her twin goblins growing to love the holidays as much as she and I did as kids.

Scary season #1.

As

Permanent partners-in-crime.

Scary season #2.

I know, I know. The cutest fucking dog and cat you've ever seen.

I know, I know.
The cutest fucking cat and dog you’ve ever seen.

Scary season #3.

Princess Leah and Yoda

Star Wars at its silliest.

Scary season #4.

A mermaid with her super hero.

Scary season #5.

Captain America and a Princess Peacock.

No matter how you choose to spend Halloween, here’s to having a side kickin’ ghoul for your spooky festivities.

Happy Haunting!

CBXB

CBXB!

Partners in Pumpkin Crime

Growing up (and still today for yours truly), Halloween was the kick-off to a long-awaited holiday season.

I'll cut a bitch

Even at the tender age of three, I’d cut a bitch.

With an assist from my dad.

Letting Dad (you know, the guy who dresses up like Pam Anderson) do all of the carving work because even way back my nails were “jewels, not tools”.

In small Iowa town where I was raised, we had costume parties at school and church (when you used to be able to call it a Halloween party complete with witches and bats, instead of a bland Fall Festival with scarecrows and hay bales – why are there fun haters? Why?), parades to prance proudly down our eight block Main Street (where every single one of the 1,200 citizens seemed to show up) and so much trick-or-treating mania, I’d have to come home halfway through the evening just to dump my candy (hiding it all from my dad in the dryer or it’d be gone by morning) because my pumpkin got so overloaded, it was too heavy for me to carry.

hall

Forget my adorableness for one second – what about the clown behind #165?

ped

Spectator sport for the entire town.

In my younger years, I carried the burden of celebrating Halloween by myself and being a lone Cookie Monster got frustrating.

Ho Hum

One is the loneliest number.

Begging my parents to procreate, I was presented with my sister (you know, the one who called my dad a goddamn son of a bitch at the age of four) who was immediately awarded with side kickin’ it as my lifetime partner-in-crime (lucky her). If I was going to be dressing up (oftentimes making an ass out of myself in later years) she was going to be doing it too, by god (town parades included).

In the beginning of our twosome, we were all about cutesy costumes.

Sugar'n' Spice

The rock star and Raggedy Ann. A little sugar for my spice.

The ‘cute’ theme seemed to carry on in our early years.  Except for the tilt in our heads…and the fog in the background…and the overall sinisterness of this photo.

Creepy Hollow

Cute masked crusaders in Creepy Hollow.

As we grew older, I wanted a little edge (well as much edge as an elementary kid and toddler could muster) to our giddy ups. I let my young inner badass out, as my sister scared the pants off no one.

very busy

That’s right. I was hardcore even in elementary school.

We slid slightly into the ghoulish department as my sister joined me in grade school.

Scardey Crow

Scaredy crow and premature mini old man. Almost spine-chilling. Almost.

Then I graduated to truly frightening and fearful territory as I crept toward junior high.  Pebbles was not impressed.

Pebs

I’m also starting to wonder if there was any other color of hair paint than green, since that tends to be a trend here.

When we thought we were oh so grown up, our costumes reflected our mature attitudes.

Lady and the Tramp.

Lady and the Tramp. Or Princess and Sock Hop Girl…however you want to look at it.

We were reminded in following years just how far from adults we were…especially yours truly. A recycled mask and costume from a previous Halloween hid my “I’m way too old for this shit” attitude toward trick-or-treating when I was forced to go with my younger sister.

Barley a Boo

I can’t tell who’s more excited – the monster or the witch.

And being older we’re not so much cute, cuddly or even scary creatures…we’re just mostly cocktailed.

bl

The odd couple. Pocahontas and Kid Rock.

Now that we’re miles apart during the costuming time of year, it’s fun to look back at our sisterly ghosts of Halloween’s past. But what’s even more fun is seeing her twin goblins growing to love the holidays as much as she and I did as kids.

Scary season #1.

As

Permanent partners-in-crime.

Scary season #2.

I know, I know. The cutest fucking dog and cat you've ever seen.

I know, I know.
The cutest fucking cat and dog you’ve ever seen.

Scary season #3

Princess Leah and Yoda

Star Wars at its silliest.

Here’s hoping you have the perfect partner in Halloween crime.

CBXB

CBXB!

Inside Mr. Ted E. Bear’s Studio

James Lipton, famous for his mad interviewing skills, always asks the same ten questions to every guest on his show Inside the Actor’s Studio (and as I sit on my ass and watch from my leopard couch, I always answer right along).

Because I endlessly talk about myself here, I thought it would only be fitting to interview our my favorite feline fur ball (yes, New Cat is still around but we all know he’s not my fave) who rules the world of CBXB.

I'm very busy napping.

How dare you disrupt my snooze for an interview.

While I’m sure to pay for the sleep interruption later tonight, here are Teddy’s answers to James Lipton’s questions:

What is your favorite word?

Food. DUH.

Most wonderful time of the day.

Most wonderful time of the day.

What is your least favorite word?

No. Which is a word I rarely hear.

With a mug like this, all I ever hear is yes. To everything.

With a mug like this, all I ever hear is yes. To everything.

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

Cattails and naps.

No one likes to drink alone.

Getting the creative juices flowing with cattail hour.

Still trying...

Settling down for an emotionally charged nap.

What turns you off?

Costumes my mother forces me into on a seasonal basis.

Too cool for shades.

Teddy Thicke is too cool for this shit.

Catman

Catman hating life.

What is your favorite curse word?

It’s more of a sound. A hiss, combined with a low meow growl moments before trying to attack my mom who inevitably is forcing me do something I don’t want to do.

Ted is reminding me here that he's my main squeeze (in a very subtle, gentle manner - he take after me).

Done posing for fucking pictures!

What sound or noise do you love?

Tink. (the noise of food hitting my bowl)

I hear tinking!

I hear tinking!

What sound or noise do you hate?

The alarm going off in the morning. I refuse to budge and make my mom wiggle around me like a contortionist, so she doesn’t wake the sleeping Bear.

You want out of this bed? You're going to have to crawl over me.

You want out of this bed? You’re going to have to crawl over me.

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Being that I’m a professional eater, I’d like to try my hand at drinking for a career (I mean, my mom makes it look terribly easy).

Easy peasy.

Easy peasy.

What profession would you not like to do?

Hunt. I prefer my food poured into a bowl for me.

Hunt and Gather

Hunting and gathering fail.

proud feline

Tampons don’t taste good.

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

What took you so long? Your mom is waiting over that rainbow bridge to drink with you.

Holy shit!

There’s my Bear! Come to Mama – I have a fabulous angel costume to force you in!

That may be Mr. Bear’s own private kind of hell…

CBXB

CBXB!

Perfect Partners in Pumpkin Crime

Growing up (and still today for yours truly), Halloween was the kick-off to a long-awaited holiday season.

I'll cut a bitch

Even at the tender age of 3, I’d cut a bitch.

With an assist from my dad.

Letting Dad do all of the carving work because even way back when my nails were “jewels, not tools”.  And how ’bout the back of the pumpkin matching our beautiful carpet?

In small Iowa town where I grew up, we had costume parties at school and church (when you used to be able to call it a Halloween party complete with witches and bats, instead of a bland Fall Festival with scarecrows and hay bales – why were party poopers invented? Why?), parades to prance proudly down our eight block Main Street (where every single one of the 1,200 citizens seemed to show up) and so much trick-or-treating mania, I’d have to come home halfway through the evening just to dump my candy (hiding it all from my dad in the dryer or it’d be gone by morning) because my pumpkin got so overloaded, it was too heavy for me to carry.

hall

What better way to celebrate Halloween than to dress up as Cookie Monster and pedal your best lookin’ stuffed animals on a parade through town? Forget my adorableness for one second – what about the clown behind #165?

ped

Spectator sport for the entire town (there’s still time for you to go this year). And let’s discuss my mom’s creativity with the cookie wheels… genius!

But in my younger years, I carried the burden of celebrating Halloween by myself and being a lone Cookie Monster got frustrating.

Ho Hum

Lone monster.

Begging my parents to procreate, I was presented with my sister who was immediately awarded with side kickin’ it as my lifetime partner-in-crime (lucky her). If I was going to be dressing up (oftentimes making an ass out of myself in later years) she was going to be doing it too, by God (town parades included).

In the beginning of our twosome, we were all about cutesy costumes.

Sugar'n' Spice

The rock star and Raggedy Ann. A little sugar for my spice.

And the ‘cute’ theme seemed to carry on in our early years. Except for the tilt in our heads. And the fog in the background…

Creepy Hollow

Cute masked crusaders in Creepy Hollow.

As we got a little older, I wanted a little edge (well as much edge as an elementary kid and toddler could muster) to our giddy ups. I let my young inner badass out, as my sister scared the pants off no one.

very busy

That’s right. I was hardcore even in elementary school. My Fisher Price mobile cassette player really upped my ante of rockstardom.

We slid slightly into the creepy department as my sister joined me in grade school.

Scardey Crow

Scaredy crow and premature mini old man. Almost spine-chilling. Almost.

Then I graduated to truly frightening and fearful territory as I crept toward junior high.  Pebbles looks less than horrified as I try my best scare tactic on her.

Pebs

I’m also starting to wonder if there was any other color of hair paint than green, since that tends to be a trend here.

When we thought we were oh so grown up, our costumes reflected our mature attitudes.

Lady and the Tramp.

Lady and the Tramp. Or Princess and Sock Hop Girl…however you want to look at it.

But we were reminded in following years just how far from adults we were…especially yours truly. A recycled mask and costume from a previous Halloween hid my “I’m way too old for this shit” attitude toward trick-or-treating when I was forced to go with my younger sister.

Barley a Boo

I can’t tell who’s more excited – the monster or the witch.

And being older we’re not so much cute, cuddly or even scary creatures…we’re just mostly cocktailed.

bl

The odd couple. Pocahontas and Kid Rock.

Now that we’re miles apart during the costuming time of year, it’s fun to look back at our sisterly ghosts of Halloween’s past. But what’s even more fun is seeing her twin goblins growing to love the holidays as much as she and I did as kids.

As

Permanent partners-in-crime scary season #1.

I can’t wait to see what the little monsters will be for their second Halloween.

Goblins

Scary season round #2.

As we’re on the eve of Halloween, you should take a look at the old skeletons in your closet.

You aren’t a fraidy cat, are you?

CBXB

CBXB!

How to Turn Your Dad Into Pamela Anderson

This post is a ghost from a Halloween past…but couldn’t resist sharing again this season.

Kissy Face

A few years ago I was dying to dress up as Kid Rock and needed a trashy Pamela Anderson to hang all over me.  Because my dad is no stranger to the spotlight (and always my hero) he leapt at the chance.

But how in the hell do you transform a 6’4″ man into a petite (OK not happening….ever), blond, big busted bombshell?

You start feet first by carefully applying polish to gigantic toes.

Heavy duty gloves for a hazardous job as my dad has a green toe I lovingly refer to as Foot Fungus.

Hoping the thick ass gloves prevent the Foot Fungus from jumping to my body.

Top off the precious pedicure with an orange bow (to make those feet look a teeny tiny bit more feminine and festive).

The bow helps….kinda.

Next, a base for the famous face must be applied as the transformation continues (the application of foundation “hurt his face,” according to this cross dresser).

Suffering to be beautiful has never been this man’s motto.

Also be sure manly Pam has brushed his teeth this century before getting too close.

Be sure your Pam has brushed her teeth this century.

I learned the hard way and had no breath mint.

The trickiest and final step is squeezing Pamela into her costume because we created her famous rack by stuffing as much quilt batting as possible into nylons.

Squeeeeeze

Even the largest bra found at Wal-Mart had velcro extenders added in order to get the damn thing to clasp shut.

Dying a men’s tank top red (and almost ruining a washer in the process) we applied masking tape to create the Lifeguard logo. I scored the checkered shorts in the very big ladies section at Wal-Mart (go figure), topping man Pam off with a blond wig.

Prettiest Man Pam ever. Right?

But by God, she ended up looking like a fabulous Baywatch knock-off and now all Pamela needed was her handsome rock star flavor, Kid Rock.

This union totally lasted… a whole six months.

Our band of misfits were all gussied up, ready to fill our party drinking cups.

Playmate Crazy Pants, Hugh Hefner, Playmate Mama, Pam Man and yours truly.

Playmate Crazy Pants, Hugh Hefner, Playmate Mama, Pam Man and yours truly.

With the complete transformation in place, Pammy was (happily, excitedly, thrilled to be) the center of attention. She tended to overshadow even the most glamorous celebrities at the party.

Marilyn Monroe couldn't help but manhandle Pam's assets.

Marilyn Monroe couldn’t help but manhandle Pam’s assets.

Where's Cher?

Where’s Cher?

Everyone was completely obsessed with Pam’s chest –  even men that view breasts as their day job.

Hugh

Hugh Hefner couldn’t believe his old man eyes.

Even

This dude who knew this Pam was a dude couldn’t help but motorboat.

But even the ladies couldn’t resist a round with Pamela’s chest.

But they do make for a nice place to rest your head.

Lifeguard flotation devices also doubling as head rests.

Although this real life odd couple went on to hit the skids, Kid and Pam were able to let bygones be bygones this particular Halloween.

kissy

Is my dad fun or what?

And while this may not be the Pamela Anderson of everyone’s dreams, she’s awfully pretty to me.

Pam Man is the fairest in this Nashville land.

And that my friends is how you transform your studly, ex-NFL playing father into a sex pot.

But let’s not forget, beauty is in the eye of the beholder…

CBXB

CBXB!