The Bonanza

Being that I’ve taken the last three years off from celebrating much of anything, it.was.on. for my birthday this year. For those of you unaware (I have no fucking idea how you couldn’t if you read this blog very often at all), my day of gracing this planet with my presents presence is exactly three months after Christmas. And frankly, I had so much fun this year, I may just start my birthday countdown December 26. Sorry. Not sorry.

My big time celebrating did start about a week prior to the actual day because my Iowa peeps were in Nashville for their spring break.

Birthday Sandwich.

Sister CBXB, being the foodie that she is, kept saying she was my amuse bouche (which in French literally translates to mouth amuser….It’s OK, I live in the south) to my birthday. Since I frequent more hip chain style casual dining restaurants of the likes of Chili’s, I had to look the term up. Amuse bouche is served at fancy restaurants before any orders are placed to prepare diners of the chef’s style. Next time at Dalts I’m going to ask for an amuse bouche with a side of ranch before my first Skinny Pirate.

The amuse bouche of my birthday!

We went to a fabulous restaurant called Husk, where we were on a three-way (again, fine due to my region of residence) text with my foodie bro-in-law back in Iowa.  He is an expert on ordering, knows what we like to eat, drink and guzzle.

Husk Hooch.

Naturally, when two corn-fed sisters saw cornbread on the menu, it was a must.

We hated it.

Aside from the beyond our wildest dreams cornbread we wanted to stuff into our purses for a snack later, we feasted on fried dilly tomatoes with pimento cheese, chicken, steak and more cocktails, of course. BIL informed us that this was all created under Chef Brock who is on the new season of Chef’s Table on Netflix.

We so fancy.

I carried the fancy on to the Mumford and Sons concert Sister CBXB took me to after supper. I carefully selected my concert t-shirt (a must whenever I see a live show) and then promptly put it on.

Yes. I’m that girl.

My sister put her t-shirt on right away too because siblings stick together. After getting cocktails that cost more than I’m paid per hour, we sat to watch the opening act. As we were chit chatting about how lights and speakers are hung (I used to work in music production) a man in front of us was apparently on a first fucking Match.com date and asked us to be quiet. Then his date piped in and said she, “paid good money for these tickets.”

You can imagine how that went.

Take your shhhh! and shove it up your ass.

Ahmahzing sold out show.

Mumford and Sons not only sold out the Bridgestone Arena, they also broke the record for attendance tipping the people meter at over 19,000.

The following evening, First Mate further assisted me out of my culinary comfort zone and took me to a new Indian restaurant in Nashville called Chaatable. Every time I think of Indian food, I see Ben Stiller sweating (then shitting) his brains out in the movie Along Came Polly.

Beauty and her birthday Beast.

You guys, this restaurant was beyond. I didn’t sweat or shit myself (surprisingly) while dining here. The food was insane good to the point where I wanted to lick my butter chicken bowl clean (I may have).

All. the. yes.

There are 80,000 Indian bracelets used as a central piece of the art in the restaurant. Now I need one of these in the Mini Manse, of course.

Bracelet bonanza.

The eve of my birthday consisted of wine, cats, cuddles and DVR.

Purrrrfection.

On my birthday, I woke up with all four of my pussies in the bed, contemplating having a ‘sick’ day from work since my birthday fell on a Monday. However, that would have been a grave mistake on my part.

Well wishes came in all kinds of styles starting with handmade cards from the twins…

…to insane crazy sweet text messages…

…to appropriate memes sent to me throughout the day.

It looked like Christmas morning at my desk upon my arrival to work. From wine, to pink icing covered donuts, to lunch with coworkers at my fave Dalts to cake in the afternoon, the day did not suck.

Spoiled beyond.

Here I thought it would be a slight bummer having my birthday fall on the first day of the work week but boy, was I mistaken.

After a short work day (I have the best boss), I met First Mate for rosé at 51st Taproom.

Rosé all birthday.

Then it was on to a Mexican fiesta with Mama CBXB and Rasta for more vino, accompanied by some cheese dip and 4,961 chips. And then, my mom’s family famous O’Henry bars for a birthday treat.

Janie’s Junk just for me.

Due to the fact that I had years of celebrating to make up for, I welcomed wishes and reminders all week.

Double DUH.

My TGIF birthday night was another fabulous dining experience for me. Van Waffles took me to the Marsh House at the Thompson Hotel in the Gulch area of Nashville. Another menu for me to text my BIL and sister, who guided me through the ordering process of cocktails, BBQ shrimp (fucking killer) and Mahi.

The Marsh House mania.

The experience was so divine, it was dizzying.

Best photographer ever.

Saturday, Van Waffles spoiled me further by cooking a fabulously kick ass meal at the Mini Manse. I have no idea what all was in it aside from salmon and noodles but it all went into my belly. I also had no idea my kitchen functioned properly for which it was intended (not just extra storage in the oven).

THIS. WAS. MADE. IN. MY. KITCHEN.

Further spoiling came from all over the globe. I woke up on Sunday to this sweet message from my buddy, Stevie, who lives in Australia. We’ve yet to meet in person but it seems like we’ve been friends for years. Because we have been friends on social media. Isn’t that fun?

The awesome didn’t stop, as I made my way to Dalts for a much-needed hair of the dog on my day of rest.

Then capped off by my favorite relaxing ritual.

Birthday bubbles.

All in all, this was one of my best birthdays that I can remember. So much so, that I won’t ever be taking three years off from celebrating again.

Cheers until next year!

Thanks for all of the love. I love you right back.

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Birthday Bonanza

Oh the bliss of birthdays. Typically I think mine ranks right up there with the birth of Jesus and the discovery of booze and I start announcing reminders to all acquaintances – “exactly three months after Christmas – how can you fucking forget?” – the moment March 1 rolls around.

But this year, I have been a tad distracted and it snuck up on me like a pregnancy after a one-night stand (never experienced either, so everyone calm down). Fortunately, Dada CBXB and Bird Lady accompanied me to my fave Nashville watering hole, Dalts, where I loaded up on Skinny Pirates and … a birthday tequila shot.

Three birthday amigos.

Unfortunately for me, I had decided to wear my best bar shoes and almost broke an ankle on my way out the door, lunging for a mint.

These just make good walking sense.

Broken ankles averted, I woke up with a case of the blues on my actual birthday morning. Funny how life could give a fuck what day it is in your world and runs you over whenever it deems necessary.

Tissues for my issues.

For a long moment, I thought I’d be spending my day in bed with each of my pussies taking a pity party turn with me. Rocky chose to go first and made it mighty difficult to want to leave my fluffy throne.

Save the drama for yo mama.

Then I remembered that I’m the Queen of my fucking universe. So, I fumbled out of the bed, slapped on some lipstick and threw prescription sunglasses over the puffy eyes that made me appear as if I was a co-starring with Sylvester Stallone as a real boxer in a Rocky movie.

When life hands you lemons, pretend they’re oranges and add champs.

Friends have a keen way to know when they’re needed the most (especially when you text them and ask if they would like to take your broke ass (still job hunting!) out for your special day) and swoop in to save the day.

A Shit Show, a First Mate and a Bird Lady.

Being that I’m the most non-quiet woman on the planet, we can’t help but be noticed in a small restaurant. But we also acted like we were somebodies as Bird Lady talked on speaker phone while First Mate and I made fun.

Real Housewives of the Hard of Hearing.

We also added fuel to sticking out like sore thumbs in the extremely hip and cool East Nashville (you know, the area of a city where young folks pay $313 for an outfit that looks like it’s from Goodwill?) by carrying our Louis Vuittons, prancing around in our sky high wedge heels and…pulling out a fucking sorority wind breaker (***cue eye roll from moi***). As you can imagine, we gave zero fucks and partied the afternoon away.

What’s a K Triangle?

Speaking of being spoiled by friends, look what came all the way from Colorado just for me? A pussy pot crafted by the fabulous pole dancing, kick ass, wonder mom, ceramics maven and fellow blogger Viv.  I had long admired her crafty pots and so she sent me one. Lucky me!

A slight shade off from my #1 pussy of all time, Mr. Ted E. Bear.

One time my best friend forgot my birthday. And, I never, ever, ever, ever let him forget it (please – what kind of classy lady would let that go?). Years later (in what I think was an attempt to avoid missing my very important date again), he got married on my birthday (I wasn’t the maid of honor but I’ve let that go…kind of).

Happy Anniversary Scooby and Mr. Scooby!

While I was shenaniganing my way through the weekend, my Iowa twins were lounging it away as they were both fighting the sickness.

Party people!

When my nephew, Prince B was having a conversation with my bro-in-law about why mom and dad share things because they’re married he said, “Dad, I told you I’m going to marry mom! Back off that girl!”

The Royal Duo – with one heartbreaker in the making.

I started, and then couldn’t tear myself away from this book while soaking in the suds on Sunday.

Creepy fucking awesome.

Then I hunkered down with the still slightly under the weather Ted and laid on my leopard couch so long, there’s now an imprint of my body.

No better birthday present.

Thanks to all of you for the well wishes, Facebook posts, texts, cards, calls and overload of love. This gal couldn’t appreciate it more. That being said, I am still accepting invitations to celebrate, so feel free to reach out.

Can’t stop. Won’t stop.

I mean, who wants their party to end?

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

 

Weekend Winks – Leaf Lurker

Hello Friday

Hello Friday.

You know those weeks that seem to feel like an entire year has gone by within the past seven days? Well, I had one and could hardly wait to high tail it to my fave Nashville watering hole, Dalts to get five a few Skinny Pirates on Friday.

This iswhy I love Dalts.

Filled to the brim…one of the many reasons to love Dalts.

Returning to my mini manse, I opened the mailbox to see a card from my gal pal that included a rebate for Captain Morgan. If you happened to witness my reaction when opening the card, you’d have thought I’d just won $10,000 in cold hard cash ($4 off liquor can sometimes feel like a jackpot, OK? Don’t judge).

And my girlfriends.

I wish my girlfriend knew me better.

My twin hellions in Iowa were busy terrorizing their neighborhood on Saturday morning.

Hell's Angels in Iowa.

Hell on wheels at its cutest.

Once the trike terrorizing was complete, Prince B stopped to give his best J. Crew imitation.

Mini model

Mini model.

And Princess B further demonstrated her future as a cray cray cat lady by selecting the most beautiful bike helmet of all time.

Since my Iowa Hawkeyes were on a bye week, the Tennessee Titans suck shit and it was 75 degrees outside, I had some time on my hands to run around the park.

Much needed fall run jog.

Leisurely jog with the leaves.

There I was minding my own business, jogging slower than most fast walkers and jamming out to my playlist when all of a sudden out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a figure running full speed ahead at me, while screaming in Spanish (I unfortunately went with French class in high school).

In .02 seconds, my life flashed before my eyes (as I was sure this dude was going to usher me onto an episode of Forensic Files which then lead me to be thankful I keep my fingernails so long, as I could capture DNA evidence – just the kind of thing you’d think about before possibly perishing, right?) and before I knew it, my feet were over my head.

What the who?!

What the who?!

Processing the prior few moments (which is hard for me anyhow, being blonde and all) took longer than usual due to the stars spinning around my head. As I was turning around to punch the incomprehensible man still screaming at me in Spanish in the face, I was able to decipher the words “snake” and “rattle”.

What the fuck? Forensic files?

What the fuck?

Turns out my Knight in Spanish Speaking Shining Armour saved my ankle from being bitten by a rattlesnake that I was about to step on because it was lurking in the leaves on the asphalt trail. I went from wanting to accost him to wanting to marry him.

We're all good. Skinned knees are better than a rattlesnake bite, right?

Hold up. That was the shittiest proposal of all time.

With my heart securely sitting in my throat, I went home to take a long, hot shower and calm the fuck down. Due to the fact that I am totally blind without aid, I took a shower with a hairy little beast that I didn’t notice until I put my glasses on afterward.

Snakes and spiders Sunday.

Where’s my Spanish speaking man when I need him?

Feeling like Halloween was playing a gigantic prank on me with the reptile and arachnid run-ins, I repeatedly enjoyed glasses of vodka for the remainder of the day (the night and into the wee hours of the next morning, as I couldn’t go to bed thinking about snakes and spiders now could I?).

Skinny Skull

A Skinny Skull cocktail for scary Sundays.

My own personal heart attack prevention team made sure I was soothed the rest of the weekend much to my appreciation.

All fun and games 'til I costume them up.

All sweetness and sugar ’til I costume them up on Friday…

Here’s hoping you don’t have any heart stopping moments this Halloween week.

Eek!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

Weekend Winks – BOO!zin’ Style

Skinny Pirates, Halloween decor and college football oh my!

Holla for handles of Captain! Oh how my dad knows the way to my heart...

Holla for handles of Captain!
Oh how my dad knows the way to my heart…

Friday started with Miller Lite for Camo and Captain for me as I stopped for a quick happy hour at my fave Nashville watering hole, Dalts.

Drive by drink

Drive by drink.

I only stayed for a few Skinny Pirates, as I’d been bit by the Halloween bug (yes, I know it’s still September and no, I don’t really give a shit).  It was mass chaos as I felt the need to unload every single piece of Halloween decor I owned before even attempting to decorate (maybe six a few Skinny Pirates and holiday embellishment don’t mix).

Halloween nightmare.

Don’t drink and decorate.

While I kept sipping on my Captain, my two fraidy cats felt the need to inspect the nooks and crannies of every box and bin.

Two fraidy cat helpers.

Expert Halloween helpers.

I decided to wave the white flag in Halloween adornment surrender as the wee hours of Saturday morning were fast approaching and I was reminded by my nephew, Prince B what awaited me the following morning.

Hawkeye time!

Iowa Hawkeye game day!

I headed out to game watch with my folks, where we nervously hoped for touchdowns in order to squeeze our moonshine tradition into Saturday.

Moonshine

Hawks score!

Posers

Moonshine mania posers.

Never ceases to amaze me.

This special spirit ever ceases to amaze me.

There’s no better accompaniment to moonshine than my dad’s ribs (his “best batch ever” is a phrase uttered each time he prepares them) and they didn’t disappoint this weekend.

Washing down moonshine

Ribs ‘n’ shine.

While I couldn’t stuff my face with ribs any faster than a competitive eater, my niece was busy discovering her favorite flavor of salad dressing.

Face Stuff

The Face Stuff

Face Smother The girl loves her ranch, OK?

The Face Smother
Screw the Hawks game. Gimme my ranch.

Seems as if she’s taking after Auntie CBXB more and more every day with her classy ways. Be still my beating heart.

After a Hawks victory and a quick wardrobe change, it was time to sit in a standstill on my way to Mrs. America’s (who joined me in a reality sizzle reel earlier this year) house.

Is there anything more fun than sitting in an interstate parking lot? Everything. Everything is more fun.

Is there anything more fun than sitting in an interstate parking lot?
Everything. Everything is more fun.

But it was all worthwhile when I laid eyes on Mrs. America who, along with her three princesses and hubby, just moved back to Nashville. Yeehaw!

Miss and Mrs. America.

Miss Trashtacular and Mrs. America.

While we were celebrating good fortune of her fabulous new house and positive network feedback on our sizzle, I ran across some extremely special decorative pieces from Mrs. America’s past.

We love us.

I’m demanding she spotlight these over her bed in the master.

It was all fun and games Sunday, trying to sneak in some last rays of summer sun before it turns into crispy fall weather.

Sneaky sneaky.

Sneaky sun success.

When the clouds rolled in, Ted demanded I get my ass in gear and finish garnishing our mini manse in all things black and orange.

Demanding I finish up this mess.

Get this shit cleaned up. NOW.

Turns out Mr. Bear had an ulterier motive, as I was mauled the rest of the weekend.

Because it was time for couch and cuddles.

Tag team.

Happy fall y’all!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

Weekend Winks – Leading and Loving It

My Nashville weekend kicked off at my fave watering hole, Dalts.

Fun times

Wishing Friday nights were fun.

While we were busy whooping it up and throwing jazz hands down at one end of the bar…

Fun

What’s a Friday without a jazz hand?

…the other end of the bar was hosting the worst date of the year…

Date nightmare.

Very clear chemistry.

…and the men were lining up to ask me out.

Can you see me now?

Can you see me now?

Does it shock anyone (anyone?) reading that I had another birthday celebration?

Bombed!

Showing off the silver bag while being photo bombed.

We then able to played around the world with my gifted sake, homemade apple brandy, my Skinny Pirate and a Miller Lite. Did we miss anything?

Foursome

Fabulous foursome.

My fave bartender, Marjia even got in on the photo fun by posing with my buddy’s sixer – and yes, that’s how they serve him.

Marjia the Bartender

Perfect presentation.

While I slept Saturday morning away, the Iowa twins were basking in the glory of a new play set.

Play on.

Play on.

My niece also proudly displayed her pink cowboy boots that came from Auntie CBXB…

Shit kickers

Shit kickin’ after my own heart!

Seeing the fun she was having parading in her boots, I decided to prance around in my Prada kitten heels.

Prada Prance.

TJ Maxx score of the century.

Upon returning back to the mini manse, I had a fun surprise awaiting my arrival.

Nordstom

Who doesn’t like a Nordstom bag hanging on their door?

Which ended up being a belated birthday gift well worth the wait – a pink Alexander McQueen scarf.

Wish knew me better.

Wish my friends knew me better.

Turns out while Mama was away, the cats played and broke into an outlawed bag of food. This bag was in a closet that the little monsters pried open and drug to the kitchen. Being that it is not Mr. Ted E. Bear’s $60 prescription duck and pea food, he’ll surely be getting sick any second. Little beasts.

Gone too long.

Gone too long.

On Sunday I went with the slicked back no bangs look, as I am waffling on whether or not to grow them out. Thoughts?

No bangs Sunday

Bangs or no bangs? #firstworldproblems

What good is a weekend if you don’t sweat out the toxins before shoving more in?

Walk it out.

Bloody Marys for me after a jog.

My new mantra greeted me at mile marker four.

Duh.

You know it.

As the end of my weekend came to a close, I tried to finish the 391 loads of laundry seeping into all areas of the mini manse. Ted was a gigantic help.

Exhausted

Folding laundry is exhausting.

Here’s hoping you have a week’s worth of clean clothes and cocktail to keep it fun.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

 

How to Stretch Out a Party

I’ve never met a day I couldn’t celebrate, especially when it involves my date of birth.

Ole!

Ole!

Remember the fun celebrations of yesteryear, where all the school kids would line up on your special day for a piece of cake and a party favor?

Party!

The beginning of my celebratory spirit. The more, the merrier.

Well now that I’m an adult (I use that term loosely) and most of the folks I know have real grown-up lives (you know, mortgages, spouses, babies, jobs – which I know nothing about except for the work part) it’s harder to get everyone together for one celebration. Which means that I streeeeeetch the occasion out for as long as humanly possible.

On my actual birthday, I was greeted with tasty lunchtime treats followed by a 9 hour work meeting.

Wish my work buddies knew me better.

Wish my work buddies knew me better.

Upon the adjournment of our conference the work boys wined and dined me, starting with a light-up cocktail menu that had to be pried from my paws when the waiter came to take it away.

Light up menu solves everything.

The only way this menu could get better was if there was a mirror on one side.

Birthday love

Feeling the love.

Wish I may I wish I might stretch my birthday out 'til next Friday night.

Wish I may, wish I might stretch my birthday out ’til next Friday night.

The week continued with a surprise visit from my fave Real Housewife from the South where we celebrated our mutual love of vodka.

Still sizzlin'

Presence is the best present!

'tini time.

Strawberry martinis never disappoint.

Cake!

Dessert #2 for the second straight night…

With wine and vodka under my sparkly birthday belt, it was time to party down with tequila.

Lime in the coconut time!

Birthdays make you thirsty.

Shits and giggles.

Margaritas make you topsy-turvy.

I-ei-ei-ei...love fri-ie-ie-ied ice cream!

Dessert three nights in a row makes your hips curvy.

As the handsome staff surrounded our table with song, I was also sweetly smothered in whipped cream.

Sing to me.

Laugh all you want. I’m keeping this sombrero.

Thing is…the hat was heavier than anticipated.

Marg me

Straining my neck for the love of tequila.

The burdensome headpiece proved to thwart all ability to sip margaritas with any shred of dignity.

Heavy crown.

Balancing act fail.

So I decided to keep the crown down, taking it easy on the high maintenance neck.

So I kept my head down.

Bow down to the gaudy crown.

What better way to round out the party spree than spending it with Ma and my beloved rum?

Mama and me.

The grand finale.

My Skinny Pirate loving ass took to the bar stool that should have my name etched in it at Dalts (my Nashville version of Cheers).

photo 4

Captain Morgan I am obviously not.

The bday week wouldn’t have been complete without a little March Madness and a bloody mary now would it?

Winding down

The perfect wind down.

Like I ever wind down...

Like I ever wind down.

At least my fabulous friend knew exactly what I would need come Sunday evening.

Sunday

…for after all the celebrating is over…

Exhausting.

Clearly working off all of the extra calories consumed through the week was a major concern.

Party on indeed.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

Weekend Winks – Conehead Style

I kicked my Nashville weekend off by heading to a place where everybody knows my name…(nope, not Cheers) Dalt’s where they pour the most perfect Skinny Pirate ever.

While I was waiting for my buddy (the one who likes to drive a muddy truck) to show up, I sang happy birthday (and because I’m a regular, no one even cast a sly glance my way) to of one of my fave bloggers from St. Louis, Don of All Trades who got the best day ever for a birthday – Friday!

Happy Birthday to...

No problem making an ass of myself for you, DOAT!

Wonder why I love this establishment? Because before I can get to a seat, my Skinny Pirate is awaiting my arrival. Plus, my fave bartender puts beer on ice while it waits to be poured down someone’s hatch.

Cheers.

My own personal heaven.

Best. Bartender. Ever.

Best. Bartender. Ever.

Upon returning to my mini manse Friday night, I noticed New Cat had some sort of feline pink eye.

Pink eye.

Not a happy place for pink.

So we headed to the vet on Saturday morning.

Caged tiger..

Caged kitty, not happy.

New Cat was so annoyed, he first turned into a parrot by trying to sit on my shoulder, then my back in order to avoid the cold vet’s table.

Replaced monkey on my back with cat, naturally.

Replaced monkey on my back with cat, naturally.

Prognosis for sweet little kit cat is a cone, oral medication, cream for his eye AND he and my precious Ted can’t be together until all symptoms have gone.

Conehead.

Miserable pussy in a cone.

The two twins in Iowa were having a far better day than my youngest cat, enjoying the food court immensely.

Fry attack

Niece definitely has my knack of loving carbs.

Carb overload

Fry overload exhausted Nephew.

While quarantined from his feline roommie, His Majesty Ted E. Bear basked in the sun, happy to be cone free.

Sunbathing.

Sorry. Not sorry New Cat.

Wondering how in the hell I was going to keep two pussies apart for at least a week, I was presented with a temporary remedy when my dad sent me this picture of his ‘open bar’.

Bar open.

I only have eyes for the handle of Captain.

Tedstar and I couldn’t get into the car fast enough for happy hour.

Cat cruising

All bundled up with somewhere to go.

It was all paws on deck driving us out to my folks’ place.

He needs white gloves, don't you think?

He needs white gloves, don’t you think?

Duck and pea food (for TB) and a handsome Skinny Pirate (for moi) greeted us upon our arrival. The cocktails kept flowing, flowing and flowing while we watched our pitiful Iowa Hawkeyes get beat once again in basketball.

My dad is the all time best omelet maker and we were beyond excited to hurry downstairs and eat Sunday morning.

Chef Blowhard Omelette Master

The Egg Master

Well, I couldn’t wait to get downstairs and stuff my face. Ted had other plans. Like laying in bed all day.

over his dead body

Eggs? Screw your eggs!

I prompted my fur ball out of bed by whispering sweet nothings in his ear (like, I will give you frozen peas (seriously his fave treat) for a snack if you get your ass out of bed). It worked and I inhaled all of the breakfast delight.

Better than Cracker Barrel

Better than Cracker Barrel. Seriously.

After dropping Teddy off at his own personal Disneyland complete with a private screened in porch and a large basement for him to peruse while I nurse New Cat back to health, visitors stop by back at the mini manse.

WTF?

NC trying to figure out what the hell happened to Ted.

As the little beasts hung out, First Mate and I shared a bottle(s) of wine on the deck as it finally felt like spring. Yeehaw!

Wine Date!

Sunday evening shenanigans.

While First Mate and I were busy guzzling our wine, Jacey Kournikova and New Cat were having a stare down.

Hello...I saw a tumbleweed blow by

A tumbleweed blew by.

But in the end, noses met and a friendship kinda blossomed as New Cat promptly jumped off the couch acting like the dog had cooties.

Brave Jaycee

There’s like, not love in the air.

Meanwhile, Ted was trying to ruin his eyesight by watching TV too closely on vacation. All this crazy cat lady needs is a pussy that needs glasses. Jesus.

Far too close! I don't need a cat that has to have glasses.

Loving on some Animal Planet.

The rest of my evening consisted of New Cat conveniently stripping off his cone and hiding it from me. You can imagine his delight when I not only retrieved the cone and strapped it around his neck but also gave him his meds and slathered cream on his eye.

Baby Love

Cones cause exhaustion.

It’s safe to say we’re not best friends at the moment.

Hopefully you have a pink eye free week!

CBXB!