Weekends Winks – Parties, Pussies and Precious

Weekends are typically welcomed with opened paws at my mini manse but when it’s college football season, I wish the five working days would fly by faster than I can chug a Skinny Pirate.

We hate football. Obviously.

We hate football.
Obviously.

Coming as zero shock to anyone who remotely knows me, I accidentally lost my goddamned mind while perusing the Halloween aisles of Target (my mothership) slightly inebriated after a Friday evening at Dalts.  Being a celebration queen, I’m thinking of charging admission (one bottle of Captain per person) into my mini manse during the month of October.

Hello. I have a problem and it's called Halloween.

Hello. I have a problem and it’s called Halloween.

While I was busy with my spiked pumpkins, Prince B was prepping for a Hawkeye game against our in state rivals, the Iowa State Cyclones.

Hawkeyes

How could any team deny this face a W?

Princess B was more concerned with her fingernails than football.

My mini me.

Remind you of anyone?

Dada CBXB and I decided to go party with the Nashville Iowa Club downtown for the game watch and our decision proved to be a wise one.

Reserved for

Reserved for the two biggest Hawk fans in Tennessee.

This club didn't know what was about to it them...

This club didn’t know what was about to it them

Joined by Camo and my gal pal Bird Lady, we enjoyed our traditional touchdown shot after every seven points was put on the scoreboard by our fellas in black and gold.

Shot one!

Shot one!

Shot two...

Shot two!

Somewhere in between three and four....

Somewhere in between three and four….

Watching the game with 170 of our closest Hawkeye friends was everything I wanted it to be and more – mostly due to the fact that the boisterous crowd cheered like our team had just won the Super Bowl – no matter if we’d just scored or just earned a first down.

Hawks win! Hawks win!

Hawks win! Hawks win!

With a victorious 31-17 score and our bellies bloated with moonshine, the entire crowd joined in for a rendition of the “Hawkeye Victory Polka” (which probably gives you an idea why my liver is still thriving as my alma mater sings this song during games as frequently as our fight song).

IMG_7066

In a more poignant moment, the Hawkeyes paid tribute to former player (and former New York Giant), Tyler Sash, who suddenly passed away last week at just 27 years old by wearing his number on their helmets.

A nice win in tribute of Tyler Sash.

RIP #9

Cuddling up on the couch seemed like the best Saturday night idea of all time until I realized that Precious the chug smelled like a sewage container.

Stank ass.

Such a stank ass little pig pen, Ted couldn’t even face her.

So we remedied the problem much to her dismay.

Presh isn't so sure about being so fresh and so clean clean.

Presh isn’t so sure about being so fresh and so clean clean.

Because Mr. Bear is still in recovery from his month long debacle with illness, Clark and Cousin Eddie are spending some quality time with Dada CBXB and love being the stars of his show.

Griswold twins hanging at Gpa's pad.

Griswold twins hanging at Gpa’s pad.

The human twins didn’t want to just hang on Sunday because they were anxiously watching the construction of all things fun in their backyard…

Anticipation o

Worth the wait!

I can’t wait to dominate play time on this bitch.

Seeing photos of swings made me dizzy on Sunday but that didn’t stop me from going on a hot brunch date…

…with my cat….

…on my couch…

….who proceeded to eat the other side of my sandwich.

Taking crazy to an entirely new level.

Taking crazy to an entirely new level.

Judge away.

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Purrfect Dates and a Puppy

My beloved little fur ball Ted had his first date this past weekend.  You see, my pussy decided to take a self-appointed vacation a few weeks ago without letting me in on his plans and this little cutie below helped him find his way back to me.

Ted's first play date left him tuckered out.

No longer my little boy, on his first date and all.

While I was busy helping Mr. Bear get all gussied up for his rendezvous, my Iowa twins were going bananas over their own news.

Off the fucking rails.

Seriously off the fucking rails.

Because this was happening…

Welcome to the clan Spike!

Meet Spike.

Ever since my first dogphew Gunner suddenly passed away last November, the hustle bustle of the castle that houses my little prince and princess seemed too calm (right, sis?).

As you can imagine, the announcement of acquiring a new fur ball really wound the twins up – Princess B even dressed up in her finest prom gown (compliments of moi – surprised?) while awaiting Spike’s arrival.

I can't.

Who doesn’t wear sparkles on summer afternoons?

She hates him.

She hates him.

Prince B found the accessories that accompany a puppy way more intriguing than the dog himself.

Naturally they took right over and Spike learned his place immediately.

Exactly how toddlers would be housed at my mini manse.

This little ball of love has no clue what he’s in for – I especially can’t wait for Halloweennot that we ever over do it in my family or anything.

Puppy without a pen.

Welcome to the clan, buddy.

In other news, all is right in the world now that I have my Christmas Vacation 2015 ornament. How fitting is it that it’s called “Meowy Christmas”?

MINE! How fitting.

I mean, hello!

Ted shared my Christmas in July excitement when I presented him with our new Clark W. Griswold decoration.

Are you OK, comfy? Enough room?

Bitch please.

About that same time, the meme below was sent to me by a friend.

IMG_5593

Not like it’s going to be true or anything.

CBXB

CBXB!

How to Almost Burn Down a Mini Manse

I’m a woman of many talents.

I photobomb like it’s my career, my dainty laugh makes 80-year-old men want to fight me,  I have a knack for getting strange dudes to send me dick pics and I’m on the brink of being Nashville’s cray cray cat lady.  However, I recently uncovered a new ability of mine when I almost burned my entire apartment complex to the ground with a microwave and a glittery paper plate.

All that glitters is not gold. It's more of an orange color with a yellow tint that when combined together create a blaze.

All that glitters is not gold.
It’s more of an orange color with a yellow tint that when combined together create a blaze.

It all started with these gorgeous red paper plates, rimmed in silver sparkles because an ordinary white hue was all too normal for me to purchase.

Of course I had to have them.

Food tastes better when combined with glitter, yes?

Maybe it was because I had five one too many Skinny Pirates the night before but I thought it was a good idea to throw the shimmering piece of flimsy cardboard into the microwave in order to heat up chicken fingers (also from the previous evening that may or may not have sat on the counter all night long).

Don't worry. I'm sure I have at least 22 brain cells left.

Don’t worry.
I’m sure I have at least 22 brain cells left.

Upon closing the appliance door and setting the timer for 30 seconds, I stepped away from the kitchen, distracted by one of New Cat’s many attempts to commit suicide by sitting on the banister of my second balcony porch.

No energy to thwart suicide attempts by New Cat.

Thinking long and hard about how rough he has it in my mini manse. Fucker.

In the mere seconds I was away rescuing my idiot pussy, something started happening in the microwave.

A stench started to quickly fill the air.

By the time I got back to the kitchen, flames were bursting through the microwave door as the timer counted down to zero.

For a moment, all I could think about was the loss of my chicken tenders. My hungover ass then snapped out of it and flung the door of the appliance open to find a smoldering, disintegrating plate with burnt to a crisp pieces of poultry attached to it.

So glitter doesn't warm well.

So…… sparkles don’t warm well.

Mourning the loss of my food like broken high heel, I was further pissed off thinking that the manufacturer of this piece of shit plate didn’t list any danger warnings about putting a metallic glitter plate into the microwave for all of the dumb asses out there who apparently don’t know foil starts on fire in a microwave like yours truly.

Then I turned the crispy plate over.

WARNING

I may have missed something here.

Once I realized I wasn’t even close to being the most mediocre genius on the planet, my feelings of grief were geared toward the loss of my beloved red (because white is too normal) microwave that now smelled like a year-long bonfire had taken place inside and ceased to run properly.

Um...

The not so sparkly remnants of a small kitchen fire.

Much to my hungover delight, Target (my mothership) had a shiny red appliance just waiting for me on the store shelf later that day.

Forced to invest in a new appliance.

It’s a kitchen miracle.

Forced to utilize my lingering brain cells, I tried to figure out how to unplug the old glitter cooker from behind the refrigerator without having to move the 250 lb unit.

Not going well.

This might as well have been brain surgery.

You guys, it’s hard being a blonde with so many talents.

Help.

Help.

Who wants to come over for a fancy chicken tenders dinner and watch me put my new microwave to use tonight?

Don’t worry, I got new glitter plates.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Crazier About My Pussy by the Day

If you’ve followed my shenanigans for long, you’re well aware that I am bat shit crazy about my cat Ted and slightly cray cray about the brother I forced upon him last year, New Cat (yep, that’s still his name).

Apparently my deranged feelings for my feline are starting to get out of control, as I went to send a picture to someone of Ted and this is who I tried to text….

Dear Teddy

Realizing no names were populating in the To: bar, it took a good 15 seconds for me to figure out why in the fuck this text wouldn’t send (being blonde is hard work).

I think it’s safe to say that I am now the number one psycho cat lady in Nashville. Hell, maybe in all of the state of Tennessee.

Anyone have a straight jacket I could borrow?

CBXB

CBXB!

The Agony of Being a Cat Mom

You know how moms of humans sometimes talk about feeling guilty and torn leaving their offspring, while going to work/vacation/out for much needed drinks away from the homestead?

I’ve often thought these women were fucked in the head for not wanting time away from their children until my little ones started pulling this shit whenever I try to leave the mini manse (and yes, my babies are cats. Stop judging).

Ted and New Cat have a perch right by my front window that allows them to look over the mighty kingdom of the side yard.

The perching isn't always this polite.

The perching isn’t always this polite.

When hearing my keys clink together New New typically scrams, knowing that it’s time to nap the day away.

Would you leave already? I have some very serious napping to do.

Would you leave already?
I have some very serious snoozing to do.

On the other hand Mr. Bear, acts as if he’s aboard the sinking Titanic with my departure being the last time we’ll ever see one another before drowning into the abyss of dark ocean waters (he takes after his mother in the drama department). So as soon as he hears the key hit the doorknob, he immediately engages me in a stare down.

What? Where do you think you're going?!

Goodbye my love.

Then he quickly tip toes like he’s walking the plank over the windowsill with high hopes of preventing my exit.

Sneak attack

Tricky Teddy’s balancing act isn’t always so graceful.

Before I know it, a blur of gray appears before my eyes.

The mad dash

The mad dash.

The little love of my life then tries to morph into The Rock, keeping the steel door from closing in his furry face.

High hopes the door swings back open.

Too bad he doesn’t have a shirt to rip off.

Regretfully I draw the door closed as my heart starts cracking.

THAT FACE.

Oh how the guilt washes over me as I gently shut the door.

Last ditch attempt with a strong paw

Does anyone else hear the violin music from the Titanic movie playing?

I get it moms to humans. I get it.

Is it too much to ask to be a stay at home cat mom?

CBXB

CBXB!