Babies Can Be Such Bitches

My kid clock hasn’t started ticking and I’m not all that upset about it (Stop with the judgement. I like your kids and don’t mind being around them. I’m just thrilled they’re yours. Especially when they’re screaming at the top of their lungs in Target, have snot running down their nose, smell of sewer due to a dirty diaper, need to go to the ER at 3am due to being sick for the 13th time this year, require one to get up at the ass crack of dawn, etc….).

This duo of messy cuteness?

This duo of messy cuteness? I’ll let you clean them up.

However this year, I have acquired twins – a niece and nephew that I couldn’t love anymore if they were my own (for the love of Christ, no one tell Teddy).

Being that I’m 1,000 miles away from them, I try to buy their love from afar by sending them presents (this tactic always works with kids under one year, right?). I am sure to send two separate packages (on the same day), as I don’t want anyone getting pissy with having to share (plus, I remember how my sister and I made sure everything was EVEN as kids).

Upon receiving my gift in Iowa, I got this text and following photos from my sister:

B got the cutest star vest in the mail today! She loves it.

This coat hurts

Obviously.

On and on and on

This seriously must be the heaviest vest in the history of the world.

My response:

Dammit! The mailman was supposed to deliver two packages on the same day! I was promised at the counter when I mailed them!

Sister:

Don’t worry. I just told her brother that you don’t love him as much.

Well I felt really screwed over (someone has to take the blame) by the lying USPS. How must my sweet nephew feel about his Auntie CBXB forgetting him?

The following morning I received this from my sister:

You do love B! He’s much more appreciative!

You're welcome

Score!

Happy

Somebody’s love can be bought by Auntie CBXB!

Upon seeing the pics, I realized that I’d sent my nephew two things vs. Bawl Baby’s single star vest.

Me: He’s so welcome! Please don’t tell Little Miss Diva that her brother got two things. PLEASE.

Sister: Too late. She knows!!

She knows.

Keeping tabs already…

I rebounded quickly, telling my sister to remind my niece B of the Tiffany’s bracelet she received from her dear old auntie when she was baptized (while all brother B got a big hug and smooch).

Did someone mention a little blue box?

Did someone mention a little blue box? All is good in the ‘hood now!

Babies can be such bitches – especially when they take after their drama queen aunts.

CBXB

CBXB!

How to Make an Ass of Yourself in Front of Ernest Hemingway

While in recently Key West, I HAD to go to visit the Ernest Hemingway house because I knew he was a fellow cat fanatic.  I’d always heard about his love (like love, love) of six-toed cats (often referred to as Hemingway cats but properly known as a polydactyl cat).

As soon as I stepped foot into his house, I knew this was a man after my own feline loving heart…quite possibly my soul mate who just happens to be six feet under (ugh, why couldn’t he be alive? He’d only be like 142 or something).

love!

Captain and Ted.

EH and one of his many loves

Ernie and one of his many loves.

Hemingway received his first six-toed white cat named Snowball from a Captain (um, does this sound like fate to anyone else?!) of a ship and the rest is history.

While the house was gorgeous…

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Yes, I could live here with cats galore (or just Teddy, as he’d prefer).

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A perfect upstairs wrap around porch from which His Majesty Mr. Bear could reign over the Kingdom .

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Teddy and I could throw one kick ass party here. Who wants to come? Cats welcome but none allowed in if they’re prettier than TB…he has a complex.

After EH winning me over with the gorgeous house, I was out on the hunt for some of the descendants of Snowball who still rule the roost here. I muscled my way up to the front in each room, ruining every other tourist’s photos and videos because … well, I’m a crazy cat lady. What can I say?

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Perfectly perched on the bar (definitely my kind of cats).

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Taking over the bed. All of it.

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Hanging in the gift shop. Cat not for sale if you were wondering (because I asked).

I was in some serious feline euphoria, getting ideas for what I should acquire for my own little furry love.

cat house

Once I showed Teddy this cat bar, he demanded I have one constructed for him.

Cat cocktail bar

One bowl for Ted, one bowl for me. I can’t let my bear cocktail alone now can I?!

Teddy was so pissed when he saw that there are actual cat mansions to live in…what kind of diva am I raising?!

Cat Hotel

The future Teddy Bear Manor (or so he thinks).

Everything was all fur and games and I was feeling warm and fuzzy…

Until this happened…

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Uh oh…

At first I thought this was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen (further confirming my love of EH).  Each sweet kitty soul has their own gravestone on the property. Which may seem sad to you but my icy heart was melting because this meant that a cat was loved, appreciated and truly cared for during their life here (and yes, I’m a shit show when it comes to cats – and well aware of it).

Kitty cat memorials

Kitty cat memorials.

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Memorial wall.

Once I saw the wall of names, I wondered (on accident) how many plaques I would need in a lifetime for my cats. WHAT DID I JUST LET ENTER MY MIND?!?! And then I got closer to this cross with two cats, which reminded me of the first furry love of my life, Nicodeamus and my living, breathing, sometimes way-to-bithcy but I love him anyway Teddy Bear.

babies

Gulp.

After this, all hell broke loose causing rivers of waterworks down my cheeks, snot running from my nose and no f’ing Kleenex in sight.

Crazy cat lady cry

Crazy cat lady cry.

I kept trying to use the inside shoulder material of the black dress I was wearing to stop the faucet my nose had become. I had the cries you get in a really sad movie, where you’re trying to be quiet but you can’t quite catch your breath and I was on this tour alone (cue the song “All By Myself”) when a stranger came up to me and said “Miss, are you OK?”

I wanted to respond with,”Are you shitting me? I’m standing in a mother fucking cat cemetery bawling. Alone. Over cats.” But instead I just said “I have bad allergies,” knowing that this person left my side understanding I was out of my cat loving mind.

At least Ernest wasn’t alive to see my embarrassing display. Only a mere 78 tourists got a front row seat to see me making an ass out of myself.

Can a cat lady get any crazier?!

CBXB

CBXB!

The Fabulously French-ish Mani

A little fuchsia on a French mani never hurt!

A thrifty girl’s guide to having fab looking nails is learning how to do them herself. I watched my mom paint her nails every Sunday night when I was a kid, therefore, I have my “Sunday Night Nail Night.” I didn’t get a salon manicure until I was 22 (and don’t get me wrong, love them!) but I don’t have the extra dough to keep them in a budget rotation.

Colors shown on nails above are …

Chanel in Cry Baby and China Glaze in Purple Panic (Neon).

I always use a base coat, two coats of color polish and then one brush of top coat. To do the French-ish mani above, I do everything the same, except after I’ve put on two coats of the color polish, I paint a strip at the end of each nail and voila, a poor gal’s French mani. If you don’t have a steady hand, you can get sticker strips to put on the tips of your nails – just be sure to wait until your polish has dried before sticking them on your nails.

Good luck!