Griswold Family Style Fourth of July

Driving a boat at Lake of the Ozarks…

Party Chick

…is a party girl from Tennessee.

Party Girl

As cousins gather every Fourth…

Cousins

…to be with family

The Griswolds

From Jell-O shots…

Jell-O

…with whipped cream.

Whipped Cream

Constant fights over the mic…

Mic Fight

to sing karaoke.

Karoake King

Trivial Pursuit winners, always reign supreme!

Winners!

From new tattoos…

Tattoo

…to pool dunks…

Dunk

…with drunken dancers around a hunk.

Hunk

Our favorite toy is the aqua bar…

Aqua Bar

…that prevents us from floating too far.

Floater

 I’m proud to be from my family!

Family

Where at least I can be me.

Beerpoo

And they never, ever let me forget

Just how handy my booty can be.

Handy

Cousins blowing their muscles up…

Blow Hards

…next to me

Muscles

so I won’t cry and feel left out.

Cry Baby

There ain’t no doubt I love my clan –

Clan

Thank God for my family!

Fam

Here’s hoping your version of the Griswolds has a safe and booze filled 4th.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Dumb and Crazy Dumber

Folks often tell me that I act like my aunt Crazy Pants (I mean obvies, look at the jazz hands!).

The past few years for both of us have been nothing but a shit show (to put it mildly0 and she has been dealt yet another large blow in the last few days. Due to the fact that she’s spunky, with a ‘fuck this shit’ attitude (yeah, we’re waaaaay similar), reality is what it is and we’ll deal.

We could be known as Thelma and Louise (but we’re not as cool and fabulous – we wouldn’t drive off a cliff on purpose, we’d do it because we were lost and missed a turn) although we more often times resemble Lucy and Ethel (on our best days) but in reality we can most identify with Dumb and Dumber.

Crazy!

Crazy times two.

Of all of the things we have in common, we share a love of Jell-O shots which are a staple at every family gathering (classy, I know) and party I throw.

Jello Love

Jell-O shots = Love

I mean we really love the spiked gelatin.

oving Jell-O maybe a little too much.

Like really, really, really love.

Down the hatch. How many?

Especially with whipped cream.

Our consumption of Jell-O shots makes us both more limber (until we wake up the next morning and can’t move).

Jell-O makes us limber

Who doesn’t do a leg lift after a bit of J-E-L-L-O?

Hey-o! Almost to the toes!

Hey-o! Jell-O makes me stretch almost to my toes!

However, I do not ever try to do tricks with my shots of liquor. There’s too much risk that it won’t make it to my mouth, which in my mind would be a travesty.

She can shoot Jell-O with no hands!

She can shoot Jell-O with no hands!

Or can she?

But really, she can’t.

Can't. Stop. Laughing. At. Her. Or, I mean with. WITH HER.

Can’t. stop. laughing. at. Aunt Crazy Pants. Errr, I mean with. Laughing WITH HER.

Upon making sure that whipped cream was ground into my carpet (thus I will not be getting my deposit back), Aunt Crazy Pants decided to go on a path of destruction in my mini manse by taking her tipsy ass into my beloved dressing room.

Fave room in my mini manse...

What CBXB does with extra bedrooms.

This wing of my mini manse is home to my two shoe towers (and no, I still don’t have too many shoes Dad and yes folks, I do wear all of them).

Tower of Shoes

Wall of bliss.

Admiring my collection

Even Ted admires my collection daily.

All was well in my closet kingdom until this tiny bull walked into my sparkly china shop and decided to trip into one of my towers that was bolted to the wall. The shelving quickly turned into a leaning tower of shoes, as it had about six inches in between the wall and the back of the racks.

Bag of Crazy

Apparently, the whipped cream on her glasses obstructed her view.

We then had to call in Camo during our girls night in to put a temporary band aid on the problem so we wouldn’t be making any trips to the emergency room with stories of shoe boxes falling onto our heads.

Closet hero

Closet hero.

Saving the Closet

I’m a big help, I know.

Crazy Pants can kiss my ass.

Think HGTV will come calling due to my mad holding skills?

When Camo was rewarded with a beer, Aunt Crazy Pants tried to show her gratitude by mauling him.

Mauling. Part 1.

Manhandling, Part 1.

Mauling Part 2.

Manhandling Part 2.

Make it stop. No seriously, make it stop.

Make the manhandling stop. No seriously, make it stop. Somebody muzzle her.

L-Dawg came in to save the day (and Camo’s dignity) by wrangling Crazy Pants with a dish towel.

L-Dawg wrangled Crazy Pants

Making sure no more Jell-O shots spill and Aunt CP stays in her seat.

For the next eight minutes, all was good in my mini manse hood until this happened….

Down the hatch.

Down the Crazy Pant hatch.

There was no turning back once she was out of Jell-O shots, so we put a boa on her and made her dance (and we have videos to prove it).

After the finishing shots, there was no wrangling her. So we put a boa on and made her dance.

Dumb and Dumber at our dancing finest.

I’m happy to report that the mini manse is still standing. But I’m certain that’s due to the fact that Aunt Crazy Pants went home.

Although now that’s she’s home, we need good juju, fabulous magic, positive vibes, abundant karma – and for anyone who lives close enough, margaritas delivered to her house.

Cheers to Aunt Crazy Pants!

You are so loved.

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Under the Weather Pussy

Now that I’m officially on my way to being a bona fide, living, breathing, crazy as hell cat lady after recently adopting two more felines, we’re all getting settled in our new routines at the mini manse.

Such as sitting on my face while I try to read before bed on Friday night.

Right at home.

Eddie making himself right at home.

While the start to my weekend low-key, I found myself really missing out on the fun I usually have making an ass out of myself at the Iowa State Fair. Luckily, Aunt Crazy Pants was able to be a substitution for me.

Aunt Crazy Pants doin' the ISF fair for me!

CBXB jazz hands for everyone!

Knowing the fair was hand crafting menu items just for me made it all the more difficult not to be there, typically eating my weight in battered and fried hot dogs within a mere 12 hours.

Classy ladies like me e

Oh the heartache.

However, I had way more serious matters to tend to. My sweet little baby bear has been feeling awfully ill lately and made his third trip to the vet in two weeks.

Sick man.

Make it stop already.

But no matter how unwell Ted is feeling, he can still be such a little bitch showing his obvious disdain for myself for taking him to the vet, the vet for accosting him in areas rather unmentionable and also because he’s just a plain old piss and moaner.

NOT HAPPY.

Telling me where to shove it with those eyes.

One of the many nicknames Tedstar has received is Teddy Krueger…which I was reminded of when I tried to help the vet (and the vet tech) hold his mouth open for an oral examination.

Teddy Kruger at his finest.

I feel like we have our Halloween costume nailed down for this year.

Hanging with fabulous friends helped boost my mood on Saturday evening, putting my anxiety and worry on a much needed back burner for a bit.

Friends.

Saluting saddness away!

And of course wine always help sugar coat any situation with angst (in my case anyhow).

Because wine makes everything better.

My version of water.

Also lifting my spirits this weekend was my niece Princess B, who decided to play in her mom’s makeup.

Going for the smoky eye look.

Totally achieved the smoky eye look.

Aunt CBXB mania.

And…totally achieving the Auntie CBXB look.

Speaking of looks, Prince B just about melts my heart every single time I glance his way. Especially when he’s just received a big boy haircut.

My version of McDreamy.

My version of McDreamy.

A relaxing Sunday on the lake seemed like the best idea ever, until I had one too many Wild Ginger alcoholic beers…

Sunday on the water.

This could have been tranquil.

…and thought that spending 20 minutes on a bouncing tube, making my body contort into all kinds of positions only a Cirque du Soleil performer should be aware of was a better way to take it easy.

Because this is a good idea.

No, I can’t move today.

Realizing that I may be forever walking with a cane due to my boozy boating decisions, I tried to unwind (and untwist muscles that I never knew I had) by soaking in a bubbly tub. Except Clark and Eddie had other ideas.

Body back.

Yes, one ended up in the tub.

I was able to wrap the weekend up knowing that Ted was catching up on rest even though Clark really, REALLY wanted to cuddle (even after 428 warnings from a grouchy sick pussy not to).

Sleep it off. Ted's new best friend.

Ted’s new best friend – whether he likes it or not.

As the week moves forward, we’ll be taking all of the good karma we can get as Teddy goes in to see the vet this Thursday yet again.

I’ll be wearing gloves up to my elbows this time.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Photo Bombs and Egg Hunts

The fun meter was cranked to 11 in Nashville this past weekend, as family came to town to participate in all kinds of shenanigans.

Aunt Crazy Pants graced me with her presence and photo bombing expertise to kick off the monkey business.

Bomber gets bombed.

Double fisting and photo bombs make for fun on a Friday night.

We were making such a quiet commotion at our table that a stranger jumped in on the antics.

Nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you.

Speaking of commotion, the Easter Bunny was getting a run for his money in Iowa as Prince and Princess B practiced their hopping techniques.

Friday night shenanigans.

Trying to out hop the bunny.

Apparently my nephew didn’t inherit my ample ass, as his jumping caused him to fall out of his pull up.

I've never had this problem.

I’ve never had this problem. Ever.

Back at the mini manse, I was busy making sure Aunt Crazy pants stayed far, far away from my precious shoe towers that she tried to demolish last time she was in Music City.

She's baaaaaaack!

She’s baaaaaaack!

And she’s just as loose lipped and talkative as ever…you know, the kind of lady who says whatever she is thinking with no filter. Gotta love that!

Say wha...?! No filter.

Say wha…?!

We were waiting to greet my cousin Tballs (the kid that shit in the baby pool) and his fabulous fam who were coming in to pick up Crazy Pants and take her to Hotlanta to spend time with them.

Tballs

Tballs – cousin

Hussy #5

Hussy #5 – wife

I’m pretty sure you can tell from the pictures above, this couple is zero fun and I was not unhappy to welcome them into the mini manse for some wild times.

Due to the aforementioned wild times, Easter greeted us around noon in Nashville and Teddy couldn’t have been more thrilled.

Image

World’s pissiest bunny.

But at the crack of dawn above the Mason-Dixon Line the twins were up and at ’em racing to see what the furry Easter fella left in the yard.

Iowa eggs.

Iowa egg hunt pajama style.

Princess B scored some fashionable goggles and a Frozen dress.

Goggles consumed

Pretty princess.

While Prince B sifted through the loot one by one.

Eggstravaganza!

Eggstravaganza!

At the mini manse, we were prepping for a leisurely afternoon hunt.

Nashville egg prep with the help of New Cat.

One hungover bunny.

Turns out, one of the girls was far from impressed with what the egg hunt had to offer.

What. Ever.

What. Ever.

Her ‘tude turned around after I slaved over the decision of whether to cook or escort the clan to my beloved Dalts.

Slaved all day in the kitchen.

Happy Thanksgiving, er…I mean Easter.

But the real topper to the weekend was receiving this picture of Princess B who calls this her “Auntie CBXB” outfit.

Identifying with Auntie CBXB. My kinda girl.

My kinda girl.

Naturally, I’ve died and gone to heaven since I have an almost exact replica of yours truly.

Isn’t that just what the world needs?

CBXB

CBXB!

Crazy Pants Party!

Looking for a fabulous way to kick cabin fever’s ass while celebrating a gal pal’s birthday, there was no better idea than to host a crazy pants party at my mini manse.

Crazy time.

Crazy time for crazy ladies.

Naturally needing to up my outfit ante,  I added pink tinsel eyelashes to my look…which I now want to be an everyday staple.

Details matter most.

Details matter most.

With my outfit ready and set to go, party food being monitored for meddling pussies and birthday decor in proper places, there was only one thing left to do…

Feed me.

Feed me.

… get the furry little host with the most set to be the greeter.

Greeter all

Everyone go home. I’m tired.

And then the crazy pants came in droves!

Crazy Pants!

Literal crazy pants arrived.

Clark Kent in his skivies.

Clark Kent showed in his skivvies.

Party pants with pops of color and sequins for me.

Party pants with polka dots, poppies and sequins mixed and mingled.

The Mad Hatter in her flannel and elf.

Flannel  pants and footie pjs won the prize for comfiest attendees.

And why stop at pants when you can add crazy hats?

Why stop at pants when you can add crazy hats?

Bedazzled helmets for our heads.

Now it’s not a party without a little drama – and you could cut the animal tension with a knife when sweet Precious rolled in.

Precious party goer in her sparkly giddy up.

Stealing Ted’s spotlight (that I’m still paying for).

With a puppy and two pussies under my roof already, this CBXB party wasn’t complete without my Pa.

My eyes are open.

Yes my eyes are open, you just can’t tell because of my six inch long tinsel lashes.

Nor will any party of mine be complete without classy rounds of Jell-O shots served by the one and only Mama CBXB.

You're been served.

You’re been served.

Once I’d consumed my weight in gelatinous goodness, it was time to ruin party pics.

Plenty of party pics for me to ruin.

You’re welcome.

While I was busy being the star of every camera’s show, Dada CBXB didn’t mind taking in all of the lovely lady sights.

All kinds of lovin' spread around.

A perfectly paired couple – from top to bottom.

A crazy pants party isn’t complete without various cray cray lady pics with an appropriate prop.

What's a crazy pants party without crazy party girls?

The angry drunk crazy lady.

Cr

The run for the hills and never look back crazy as fuck cat lady.

Crazy crying girl who was quickly DisLiked.

The crazy crying girl who was DisLiked.

With the shenanigans raging on until daylight started to creep in the windows, Teddy resorted to his Juicy Couture Pussy Palace where he knew I couldn’t fit in and breathe stale Skinny Pirate breath all over him.

Pussy Palace

A fancy furry tent cures kitty hangovers.

And as those wee rays of sunshine poured into the mini manse, I could only muster the energy to reach for my recovery kit complete with vodka, bloody mary mix and aspirin. Lots and lots of aspirin.

Still sippin' on my juice today..

A true life saver.

I may or may not still be sipping on a recovery mix days after this party ended, along with lots and lots and lots of aspirin.

Here’s hoping your week has been headache free!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Dumb to My Dumber

Folks often tell me that I act like my aunt Crazy Pants. We could be known as Thelma and Louise (but we’re not as cool and fabulous – we wouldn’t drive off a cliff on purpose, we’d do it because we were lost and missed a turn) although we more often times resemble Lucy and Ethel (on our best days) but in reality we can most identify with Dumb and Dumber.

Crazy!

Crazy times two.

Of all of the things we have in common, we share a love of Jell-O shots which are a staple at every family gathering (classy, I know) and party I throw.

Jello Love

Jell-O shots = Love

I mean we really love the spiked gelatin.

oving Jell-O maybe a little too much.

Like really, really, really love.

Down the hatch. How many?

Especially with whipped cream.

Our consumption of Jell-O shots makes us both more limber (until we wake up the next morning and can’t move).

Jell-O makes us limber

Who doesn’t do a leg lift after a bit of J-E-L-L-O?

Hey-o! Almost to the toes!

Hey-o! Jell-O makes me stretch almost to my toes!

However, I do not ever try to do tricks with my shots of liquor. There’s too much risk that it won’t make it to my mouth, which in my mind would be a travesty.

She can shoot Jell-O with no hands!

She can shoot Jell-O with no hands!

Or can she?

But really, she can’t.

Can't. Stop. Laughing. At. Her. Or, I mean with. WITH HER.

Can’t. stop. laughing. at. Aunt Crazy Pants. Errr, I mean with. Laughing WITH HER.

Upon making sure that whipped cream was ground into my carpet (thus I will not be getting my deposit back), Aunt Crazy Pants decided to go on a path of destruction in my mini manse by taking her tipsy ass into my beloved dressing room.

Fave room in my mini manse...

What CBXB does with extra bedrooms.

My dressing room is home to my two shoe towers (and no, I still don’t have too many shoes Dad and yes folks, I do wear all of them).

Tower of Shoes

Wall of bliss.

Admiring my collection

Even Ted admires my collection daily.

All was well in my closet kingdom until this tiny bull walked into my china shop and decided to trip into one of my towers that was bolted to the wall. The shelving quickly turned into a leaning tower of shoes, as it had about six inches in between the wall and the back of the racks.

Bag of Crazy

Apparently, the whipped cream on her glasses obstructed her view.

We then had to call in Camo during our girls night in to put a temporary band aid on the problem so we wouldn’t be making any trips to the emergency room with stories of shoe boxes falling onto our heads.

Closet hero

Closet hero.

Saving the Closet

I’m a big help, I know.

Crazy Pants can kiss my ass.

Think HGTV will come calling due to my mad holding skills?

When Camo was rewarded with a beer, Aunt Crazy Pants tried to show her gratitude by mauling him.

Mauling. Part 1.

Manhandling, Part 1.

Mauling Part 2.

Manhandling Part 2.

Make it stop. No seriously, make it stop.

Make the manhandling stop. No seriously, make it stop. Somebody muzzle her.

L-Dawg came in to save the the day (and Camo’s dignity) by wrangling Crazy Pants with a dish towel.

L-Dawg wrangled Crazy Pants

Making sure no more Jell-O shots spill and CP stays in her seat.

For the next eight minutes, all was good in my mini manse hood until this happened….

Down the hatch.

Down the Crazy Pant hatch.

There was no turning back once she was out of Jell-O shots, so we put a boa on her and made her dance (and we have videos to prove it).

After the finishing shots, there was no wrangling her. So we put a boa on and made her dance.

Dumb and Dumber at our dancing finest.

I’m happy to report that the mini manse is still standing. But I’m certain that’s due to the fact that Aunt Crazy Pants went home.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!