How to Have a Pandemic Party Round Two

Holy fucking shit.

The fashionable 2020 March look is the fucking same in 2021.

If you had told me 365 days ago that I’d be having a second birthday during a worldwide pandemic tomorrow, I would have cock/cunt punched you.

@effinbirds

But here we are STILL in the throes of a global pandemic due to many “you can’t tell me what to do with my body” mask refusing ass hats, accompanied with politicians who act like they know more than the Center for Disease Control (go fucking figure) closely accompanied by the folks that follow said non-doctors blindly. I digress. My VIP Rona ticket happened to include my first ever birthday in quarantine. And now my second.

Oh hi! You feel like celebrating with people now? Too bad.

Little naive me thought I’d be hosting a half birthday party on September 25, 2020. Joke was on me! Well, really all of us. These were thoughts on my day of birth last year…

Poor, poor late March babies.

My birthday took place the first full week of lockdown in Nashville (when every business finally complied – lockdown actually started earlier). But still, I think everyone was hopeful/under the impression/couldn’t comprehend how this could last longer than a month, tops. 

Due to Rapegate, I would have been down to par-tay in isolation on any of my past five birthdays. But in 2020, I was ready for shenanigans and celebrations all about me, as I would have typically been pre-Rapegate. CELEBRATE EVERYTHING!

But not 2020. Oh no. This was the first year where this badass bitch was baaaack to finding all things joyful and ready to celebrate the entire month. So I did just that in spite of a fucking global pandemic.

I still celebrated my face off.

I partied and Prissy force loved it.

While the circumstances were not the most epically fabulous, my peeps far and wide celebrated with me. Boston Barbie canceled a trip she had planned to Nashville to celebrate with me in person due to the germy Rona shit. So she did the next best thing – had a bottle of champs with me via FaceTime and sent a pizza for supper.

Presents and hot toddy’s were delivered to the Mini Manse door.

First Mate tapped on my window and brought her own airplane sized bottle (is that what they are really called?) of fancy vino over and poured it into her own glass.  Rona shit was still so new, masks weren’t a required accessory yet (ATTENTION NASHVILLE RESIDENTS AND THOSE COWBOY BOOT PUKING TOURISTS – AS OF THIS DAY IN 2021 MASKS ARE STILL MANDATED IN DAVIDSON COUNTY).

Text messages dinging my phone all day kept me smiling from ear to ear. 

The world literally stopped turning on March 25, 2020. Yes. I am that.fucking.special.

Even my boyfriend T-Rac wished me a happy birthday and I pretty much died and went to Rona heaven (which would be the Mini Manse bed).

I almost burnt down the Mini Manse drunk baking my own gluten-free birthday cake.

Booze, boobs and baking.

While it was not on the top ten (or top 100) sweets I’ve ever tasted, it went down the hatch like a dry, dry, dry, dry, dry, dry charm (I think it was because of all the sprinkles). Yes, I still ate the damn thing.

Look the fuck out Martha Stewart.

This year’s pandemic birthday cake is gonna look different and be waaaaaay easier since I’m not gonna do fuck all with an oven.

Just need a candle.

Last year I wrote – and I quote, “What I want for my birthday wish is for you and your loved ones to be alive, healthy and ready to celebrate your faces off with me on my half birthday bash on September 25, 2020. Until then, stay the fuck home. Let’s make my half birthday party go viral for reasons other than a worldwide pandemic.”

So naive. So innocent.

This year my still-in-a-worldwide-pandemic-but-there-is-a-light-at-the-end-of-the tunnel plans are as follows:

An evening at the Mini Manse theater with a birthday themed film, accompanied with pizza and copious amounts of champs. And a side of extremely cold Diet Coke.

Hello Lovah.

Should I just get a case?

And because dreams do sometimes come true, I’m still alive and kicking after last year (and Rona free!). Typically, I’d head to my treasured watering hole, Dalts (they survived Rona too, woohoo!) to see my fave bartender ever to have eight a Skinny Pirate(s).

Marja + Skinny Pirates = Purrfection

Last year was the first time since I’ve lived in Nashville I didn’t celebrate my arrival into the world with Skinny Pirates and loved ons at Dalts.

2020 loner.

Maybe a more crowded party in 2022?!

It may not be post Rona normal yet but that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna commemorate my day of birth all weekend and then some. Remember, there are six more days in my birthday month and I intend to celebrate the fuck outta each and every one. Shocker.

See ya in 2022!

Last year celebrating my birthday couldn’t help but feel full of doom and gloom. This year’s vibe is a MOOD called gratitude. Now every one of you start saving your pennies to come par-tay at Dalts with me in 2022.

Cheers to seeing you next year!

Love ya, mean it.

CBXB

Buy Me a Drink

Weekend Winks – Like a Boss

Sometimes the end to a loooooooong work week requires day drinking on Friday. Like this past one, where I met up with Camo and Dada CBXB well before 5pm at our favorite watering hole, Dalts.

Pretty as pictures before happy hour started.

But we quickly recovered in the beauty department.

Not quite as special looking two minutes later.

Being that I’m always down for an extended celebration, my sister sent some fingerless Iowa Hawkeye gloves for a belated birthday gift that made me start to crave the tailgating season (which starts in t-minus five months).

Perfect tailgating practice makes for perfect tailgates.

While I was busy lounging in winter gear at the bar, the Iowa twins were kicking back and unwinding after a long day of play.

Chillaxin.

Due to the fact that our family doesn’t use traditional monikers (shocking, I know) for extended relatives (Grandma is Gigi, Grandpa is Cray Cray, Auntie CBXB is Aunt Juju) we went bananas seeing the twins in giddy ups that appeared to be custom-made.

Cray cray for their Cray Cray.

When it comes down to snack time, these peeps know how to do it up right. What to do with left over Easter candy? Why you make a Peep s’mores, of course.

Delicate deliciousness for Prince B.

Not so delicate marshmallow mania for Princess B.

Dada CBXB decided to splurge on some new living room attire, in which my expertise was needed. Naturally, I suggested he go with an animal print but he went with boring old brown instead.

Trying to put flair in the furniture shopping.

Speaking of flair, I have a new office that was in dire need of being CBXBfied. So, trying to stay true to my subtle self, Camo helped haul and hang accessories that made me feel right at home.

What office is complete without zebra print chairs?

Of course there is a Hawkeye nook.

Like a boss.

Since I stole art from my mini manse for my office meant I had a bare wall (THE HORROR) to deal with, which I quickly remedied.

Eeeew gross.

After about four hours of arranging, I executed my new design in my dressing room (you know, what us single gals do with extra  bedrooms).

I hate skulls, the color pink and sparkles, obviously.

While I was slaving away doing loads of laundry and redecorating small spaces, Ted, Rocky and Elsa Pants were a huge help while waiting for new sheets to be put on the bed.

Paw patrol.

Sweetest scene of the weekend was seeing Ted’s shadow, Elsa Pants follow him any and everywhere.

The Bear cannot escape but secretly loves it.

Speaking of cats, this crazy feline lady cannot wait to take in the moving Keanu this weekend. Guess what my household of pussies will be this year for Halloween?

Gangsta pussies.

While the work week has begun, I can most certainly say this is what I will be having for happy hour this evening.

Care to join?

Here’s hoping you’re already owning your week like a boss.

Cheers!

Weekend Winks – Celebratory Shenanigans

Oh so many reasons to get into the party mood (as if I ever need an excuse) this past weekend!

A new job! My birthday! Easter!

Celebrating a new job and my 22nd-ish year on the planet at the same time.

Lucky for me, this year my birthday happened to land on a Friday, which was a double whammy of fun as the last day of the work week almost always finds me at my local watering hole Dalts.

A decked out Skinny Pirate waiting my arrival.

The evening started out with the typical crew…

Dada CBXB, yours truly and Camo.

Naturally, I wasted no time getting wasted my drink on.

Birthdays taste so damn good.

As the night moved along, other friends graced my trashtacular ass with their presence and the shenanigans began to up their ante (mostly due to my behavior, of course).

A drunk girl, another birthday girl and my brutha from another mutha.

I mean, what’s not to love after eight Skinny Pirates and I lost count of how many birthday shots came my way?!

But never fear, my knight in shining Uber armour appeared!

Poor Nova, wishing he’d made better choices than appearing at Dalts to buy me a birthday cocktail.

Waking up feeling not at all like Kate Upton the following morning, I proceeded to the fridge for my go-to after the night after partying liquid. A real Coke.

I woke up like this.

Slight problem for this blonde. There wasn’t a goddamn single Coke in my fridge which hasn’t happened since 2004 when I lost my first job. But, no problemo! I was just gonna hop in my chariot and run to the gas station.

Only when I walked out of the mini manse with keys in hand, I hazily realized my car was at Dalts.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. No Coke. No Diet Coke. No tea. No coffee. And this chick needed her caffeine.  After a very close come apart, I scoured the fridge one more time and…it was a birthday miracle folks!

Do you see what I see? Yes, clear in the way back.

Nestling into the couch, reviewing my celebratory messages, I received one of those “I love you but seriously bless your heart” texts from a Lady friend.

Truth hurts.

Speaking of cats, I was able to muster the energy to hang with the fur balls while sipping in my caffeine.

More cats please.

I mean seriously. That face!

Obvies Ted is everyone’s main squeeze when it comes to the cuddles, so I left the pussies on the couch to do much more pressing things like open up gifts from my Prince and Princess in Iowa.

Except I couldn’t get the box open.

I wish I may, I wish I might open this fucking box tonight.

Well the effort was well worth it being that these two masterpieces were inside.

Obvious mini Picassos on the rise.

Then it was on to my fave snail mailed cards and this was the first and best one I opened.

Good thing I rarely use my burners as glitter hearts fell out of the fabulous card.

Onto the Easter shenanigans that greeted us on Sunday, my fave twins patiently awaited the arrival of Gpa, my Dada CBXB, that they lovingly refer to as Coo Coo.

Sleep sacked and Mrs. T in their finest attire.

No spoiling here.

And the Easter Bunny didn’t miss those sweet Prince and Princess B.

Easter down south was in full swing with Presh dressed pretty as a princess.

I was busy playing Suzy Homemaker with less than desired results in the form of a failed bunny pie.

Way more of a back story for this piece of art.

I also tried to burn my mini manse down by turning the burner full of golden sparkle hearts on to boil eggs that weren’t even on the right heating device.

Eating is much more my forte than cooking.

Thank God there was someone else making all of the other fixins.

Fat, happy and a bit tipsy is a weekend done right in my book.

Presh couldn’t agree more.

Here’s hoping the bunny found you.

Cheers!

CBXB

Weekend Winks – Leading and Loving It

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

Wishing Friday nights were fun.

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

What’s a Friday without a jazz hand?

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

Very clear chemistry.

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

Can you see me now?

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

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?

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.

Perfect presentation.

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

Play on.

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

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.

TJ Maxx score of the century.

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

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 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.

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

Bangs or no bangs? #firstworldproblems

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

Bloody Marys for me after a jog.

My new mantra greeted me at mile marker four.

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.

Folding laundry is exhausting.

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

Cheers!

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!

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.

My own personal heaven.

Best. Bartender. Ever.

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

Not a happy place for pink.

So we headed to the vet on Saturday morning.

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.

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.

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.

Niece definitely has my knack of loving carbs.

Fry overload exhausted Nephew.

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

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’.

I only have eyes for the handle of Captain.

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

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?

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.

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.

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. 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.

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!

Sunday evening shenanigans.

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

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.

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.

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.

Cones cause exhaustion.

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

Hopefully you have a pink eye free week!