Weekend Winks – Ass Hats, Ass Slaps and Lazy Asses

Is the weekend ever here fast enough?

Not for this duo who couldn’t wait long enough for me to take a piss before expressing their delight in having their mother smother them for two whole days.

We spent Friday lounging around the mini while I guzzled wine like Kristen Wiig in an SNL skit.

My dream come true.

Sunny Saturdays in Nashville call for pool parties. Since I don’t do beer and sipping on Skinny Pirates all day can make for an early evening, I’ve discovered spiked seltzer water. It’s the shit – 4.5% alcohol, 90 calories per can and 0 sugars.

Truly. Madly. Deeply in love.

After an all day sunfest, our pool crew decided to hit up my fave watering hole, Dalts for the aforementioned Skinny Pirates and home cooked food.

Feed me.

Thirst quenching fun with Cat Boy, Pool Mom and Rasta.

You see, we chose Dalts for our after hours pool party because last weekend, we ran into a bit of trouble at another local bar. After several rounds of cocktails and bar snacks, I got up to sing one of my fave AC/DC songs with the band. Complete with a greasy bun, prescription sunglasses on at night (’cause I’m douchy like that – oh, and also sunglasses hide sins, requiring no makeup after a pool day) and a maxi dress.

After my non-Grammy winning performance, on the way back to our table, some guy at the bar smacked my ass so hard my bun fell out. Some guy who I hadn’t spoken to all night. Some guy who I hadn’t ever laid eyes on before. A stranger. Trying to get some semblance of dignity back after the unwanted, unmerited slap of a stranger, I made my way back to our table. Just in time to find Cat Boy in the dude’s face, defending my honor…and thankfully so. Who knows what I may have done once I garnered my wits?

Girls just having some fun.

We were immediately asked to leave the bar and I inquired whether or not both parties were being asked to leave. I was told yes and I must say that I understood why – alcohol combined with angry tempers don’t mix but not one person – not the ass hat who slapped me, not the bouncer, not the employee who asked me to leave a very busy bar acknowledged what had happened. And as we stood outside waiting on our Lyft, we witnessed the stranger who smacked me being served another round of drinks with his buddies.

Isn’t that nice?

Daily reminders compliments of Metal Marvels.

This kind of shit isn’t OK. It bothered me all week and so after a few days, I called the owner of the bar who went back, looked at the tape and called back to apologize. He also said that as an owner of this establishment of 13 years, he’d never had any issues brought to his attention like this and wondered out loud how many other times something of this nature happened. Which is so fucking true.

If you see something, say something.

Violence isn’t the answer but fuck. There is never an appropriate time to spank a grown woman – a stranger to you – like she just hit a home run in the 9th inning of the World Series. Hands off.

Luckily for me, these two were just happy to be scarfing down on celery and pizza and I got picture proof of it.

Are your diners this cute?

Princess B got a new leotard and hates it. Obvies.

Hot shit and she knows it.

You know who else is hot shit? Former Iowa Hawkeye, Karl Klug, who has played for the Tennessee Titans since 2011. As Dada CBXB says “Klug is what hard work and not great talent is all about.” Does he sound like a former football player and coach? It’s been beyond fun having a defensive end on our professional team to cheer on every Sunday (after our college football Saturday fun). Klug signed autographs after practice last weekend and my friend’s boys were lucky enough to get a little pep talk, as well as an autograph.

Football season can’t get here fast enough!

You know what else can’t get here fast enough? Tourists leaving Nashville. Us locals can’t even go downtown anymore without fighting asses to elbows…I mean, I’m sure Robert’s Western World is wondering where in the hell the folks who come and sit in he front row for 10 hours have been. Although the Music City has grown so much in the past five years, we may have to get there at 10am just to see our fave band come on at 10pm.

Winding down the weekend, there was a packed couch.

The gray duo on one side of the couch.

Balanced by the human sized Rocky on the other.

Somehow, some way we made it to our usual wind down spots, naturally.

All’s well that ends well.

Here’s hoping you have an ass slappin’ fabulous week – for all of the right reasons.

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 – Winos, Weirdos and The Walking Dead

For some, weekend work functions can really suck if you let them. However, the right mix of co-workers (that you’re lucky to also call friends) can make any event more tolerable…especially if the event revolves around any sort of libation. Like a wine festival.

Trashy, classy and a tad sassy mix.

Sandwiched between trashy and classy. #heaven

I mean, who wouldn’t be pumped to be stuck between two blondes who know how to act incredibly VIP-ish.

We. Are. Somebodys.

We. Are. Somebodys.

Or, maybe he has a point….

Can you just carry everything? Thanks.

Can you just carry everything? Thanks.

We hightailed it to my beloved Dalts just as soon as we could to carry on the out-of-office shenanigans much to the rest of the bar’s dismay.

What

She loves us.

We critiqued all 4,09,265 selfies taken over a three hour period.

Ew.

Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew.

And then took one more.

Trashy is easily rubbing off.

My trashtacularness seems to be rubbing off on The Golden Girl.

While I was working on my wino wind down, the Iowa twins were frolicking in all of the fun that fall has to offer.

Double the fall fun!

Traipsing through the leaf debris.

Halloween bake-off.

Baking Halloween treats with creative flair.

Starting their Christmas lists a little early this year.

And starting their Christmas lists a little early.

After rehydrating my liver with a bloody mary Saturday morning, I was prepped and ready for the Iowa Hawkeye football game kick-off at 11am.

I even made my blogfamous Pigskin Sushi.

I even made my blogfamous Pigskin Sushi.

It may not look pretty but pickles and ham taste mighty fine together. Since the inception of our trashtacular family tradition of touchdown shots, we have yet to go a game with no moonshine. However, we were sorely disappointed when our team not only lost but only made field goals.

Losing like we mean it.

We’re thirsty after a 17-9 defeat.

It

Poor, lonely shot glasses.

The remainder of the weekend required a lot of lounging with my pussies (Rocky would like you to know this was snapped from a bad angle).

David and Goliath. Or Arnold and Danny.

David and Goliath. Or Arnold and Danny. Or the difference between my g-string and bra size.

The snooty duo of Ted and Presh stuck side-by-side, warming my leopard couch up for the premiere of The Walking Dead (holy fuck!) and promptly left the area when my less than quiet reactions to what was happening on screen turned into screeching.

The duo.

Patiently waiting for the flesh eating zombies.

The show forced me to lift my one night ban on drinking due to the high anxiety the events of the episode caused yours truly.

I might have gone overboard.

I might have gone overboard…

In closing, many of you know my bestie Scooby, who makes often appearances on this blog (although he doesn’t read it, so his husband Mr. Scooby has to tell him when he appears). Scooby is the friend that holds your hair back when you puke (while laughing at the back of your head), rushes to your aid when bad shit happens to good people, and will stuff a body into a trunk for a laugh.

So it’s suffice to say we’re family. And this family member is about to go to Atlanta on a manhunt because Scooby was involved in a hit and run while he was walking at a crosswalk yesterday. HE WILL BE OK. But he had to scramble to the curb after the vehicle ran him over and then the car fled the fucking scene.

I'll cut a bitch.

I’ll cut a bitch.

While his multiple broken bones will require surgery, he’s going to be OK after this scariest of incidents. Please send him and his family all of the good juju you can muster while he’s traveling home to Kansas City to prep for surgery and recover.

I’m way the fuck over 2016.

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Welcome to the Jungle

Life lately has felt as if I’ve been needing a machete to cut through the roughage of life growing up all around me. While it can more often than not feel all-consuming, it’s always a bonus when you got folks who have your back in blowing off some steam.

Ahhhh....Fridays are so refreshing

Like Dada CBXB always ready for a cold one.

IMG_3223

And suck I do.

And when I need it, suck down Skinny Pirates, I do!

With a little extra help from Camo and The Silent Indian, my spirits were flying higher in no time at my local haunt, Dalts.

You know what else exposes my pearly whites? Pics from the world’s cutest niece and nephew.

Party up north.

Two Iowa clowns.

I can't even.

I can’t even.

Not only should these two faces be in magazines, billboards and on TV (I beg their mother to let me be their auntager) but Princess B could rock the world of hair with her tresses.

Hair care

But then again, her awareness of self is already gigantic – I wonder if the world could handle her.

All 'tude. All the time.

All ‘tude. All the time.

Speaking of cuts, Precious got her summer chop going on and won’t stop strutting around the mini manse.

Chug-a-lug got a cute cut, too.

Chug-a-lug got a cute cut, too.

Ripping myself away from twin photos and my real life ewok proved difficult but somehow I managed when my buddy invited me along to see Guns N’ Roses – which from the hype was going to be the Nashville concert of the year.

I know. I'm so rock'n'roll.

Don’t even tell me. I’m so rock’n’roll.

You know when you don’t want to get your hopes up, keeping expectations low because aging rockers somehow, someway, typically disappoint?  Well, this wasn’t the case Saturday night.

I have always wanted to see Guns N’ Roses in all of their glory but when Axl Rose (who looked like he could be a Real Househusband of LA due to over botoxing but sang like a motherfucker), Duff McKagan and Slash (the ultimate shit of rock guitar shredders in my book) came out and took the stage in Music City my expectations were far exceeded.

I’ve seen the Stones. I’ve seen Paul McCartney. I’ve been backstage, side stage and on stage at numerous stadium shows for some of the greatest acts in the industry due to my work life. However, this show took the proverbial cake because I couldn’t stop smiling the entire show (or screaming, or air guitar playing or stopping myself from buying a new wardrobe so I have a GNR shirt for every goddamn day of the week).

I died.

Tri-Slashta.

That show put some much-needed kick ass pep back in my step. The concert also reminded me of the time years ago I made an ex-boyfriend dress as Axl to complement my Slash. Not hard to wonder when I want to dress as old rockers for Halloween why we’re not still together (well, aside from the fact that he’s dating a newer version of me who will probably go the route of a Hooters waitress for dress up holidays). Ya dig?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where did I go? Straight to the lovin’ teeny tiny T-rex arms of my fave chug, Presh.

Straight to bed.

Rocked out, lights out.

Sunday marked a milestone in the mini manse. The baby, Elsa Pants, ventured to Ted’s glass of kitty caviar – and lived to tell about it.

Fed the beast. Martini meows.

Martini meows.

Another fabulous pick-me-up over the weekend? One of my beloved gal pals, Bex, found the hardback (you know, because hardbacks are way more convenient than a paperback or Kindle) version of my all-time fave books, Stephen King’s The Stand. I have been looking for this nearly a decade and she stumbled upon it at a used bookstore – and remembered! Great friends kick ass.

HARDBACK!

Although I don’t have my hands on this masterpiece yet, I did settle down with Stephen King’s newest End of Watch and it was so fantastic, I read it all on Sunday. With company of course.

Wild Nashville nights.

Wild Nashville nights.

A little less wild in my jungle by weekend’s end.

Cheers!
CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Emotional Banana Pants

Since my experience with bad shit that happens to good people, I have been a walking, talking shit show.

I’ve slept on my couch for the past four months, find it hard to be alone, don’t love my mini manse the way I used to, started a new job, adopted three cats, threw up in my car (soberly), shit in my car (while talking soberly to my drive thru pharmacist as if nothing was happening), developed adjustment issues, eat every single emotion that I experience, then don’t eat for three days in a row, was granted a girls trip of a lifetime to Mexico by two walking saints, have nerves that never go away, my feelings have been boiling for four months now and every.single.little.thing is a major issue, an ex-boyfriend and friend of over 11 years put me in my proverbial place, another man in my life has thrown major shade, the family dynamics I’m used to have shifted in ways that I can’t control, my bank account was hacked on Friday, meaning for three to five business days I’m broke and my usually positive self is more and more negative by the day and I want to fire me from myself.

All of that being said, I’m a swinging pendulum of highest highs and lowest lows. Listening to my therapist hero, Miss Sheila, I’m just trying to take one day at a time and find joy in the little things. Like, the Country Music Festival (that used to be called Fan Fair and really, still should be) that took place in Nashville over the weekend.

CMA Fest

Naturally, when work called for a White Trash Bash party in honor of the tens of thousands of tourists pouring their hard-earned money into my beloved Nashville, I was beyond happy to participate in something celebratory.

What's a CMA Fest without a redneck?

Tattoos not permanent.

And blow off some steam I did.

Seemed like such a brilliant idea at the time.

Seemed like such a brilliant idea at the time.

I enjoyed myself so much that I got on stage. In a very popular downtown honk tonk. In overall shorts. And sang. With braids in my hair. In overall shorts. And cowboy boots. And forgot the words to a song I’ve sung 1.578.987 times with my ’80s cover band. In overall shorts. And my new boss captured it all on film.

And yeah, this. Life.

Needing an S.O.S. from life. Immediately.

Thankfully I snagged a safe ride home but my grown ass needed a way to get to my vehicle the following day. What would we do without women who arrive in chariots with the best hangover food ever?

Breakfast of hungover champions.

My personal Uber, complete with snacks.

Once my body full of nerves returned back to the mini manse, I was once again in the throes of my emotions – and according to Miss Sheila – I loathe feeling feelings.

#sos

#iwokeuplikethis

Adulting has been so difficult lately that I’ve started to identify with a local Nashville Mexican joints social media postings….

Truth

Truth

But instead of being full of tacos I was left in bed with a bunch of fur balls.

This is how I want my life to be always.

Forensic Files Friday night.

Wallowing in self shame, embarrassment, pity I was invited last second to meet up with some old work colleagues (and friends) and decided it best for me to socialize.

Old friends. Good friends. Fun times.

Old friends. Good friends. Fun times.

I then decided to take up smoking – and surprisingly it took the edge off about 12 of my 3,794,579,000 nerves.

I asked for a puff and got the whole shebang.

I asked for a puff and got the whole shebang.

Other friends made me piss my pants by shopping the local racks of the store I hate more than anything in the world for tank tops to wear to Bonnaroo.

I hate Walmart but NEED that tank.

I loathe Walmart but NEED that tank.

Another reason to stay off the couch and keep moving was a pre-celebration opening at a buddy’s new bar. It’s dog friendly, so you know that Presh, Dada CBXB and yours truly were on hand to party.

Dada CBXB and Presh

Hot Saturday date night!

Bird Lady also made an appearance in my weekend, as did another inappropriate t-shirt that is now one of my faves.

Bird Lady and shirts with iniappropri mae me happy

Just wearing my emotions.

Much like my buddy at Dalts, who wouldn’t give me this t-shirt because his girlfriend gave it to him.

This is why I love Dalts.

Pure stud.

You show me your kitties, I show you mine.

mouths to feed.

Four feline mouths to feed keep me going.

Mini lions.

And my mini lion chug Precious, of course.

Naturally anything from my Iowa twins puts a grin on my gigantic mouth breather.

I mean, those faces!

I mean, those faces!

But most of all, I have to keep getting off of my leopard couch, braving emotions, feelings, checking account robbers and put one foot in front of the other for my favorite pussy, my best friend, my main squeeze, Mr. Ted E. Bear (who is costing almost as much as rent with his meds these days but you know (and he knows) he’s worth every goddamn cent).

Prince

Forever the king of my castle.

My new life mantra for my therapist prescribed “day-by-day” attack on life was passed onto me by one of my besties, Whitney Lover.

Mantra

I’ll drink to that…every damn day.

Motherfucking cheers.

Motherfucking cheers.

Thanks to you – readers, social media buddies, real life friends, co-workers, family, kind strangers – for sticking by your hot mess of a shit show. Here’s hoping you’re sucking a little less each and every day this week.

Love ya, mean it.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – Wild Beer, Wild Times and Wild Pussies

Does anyone have a private jet so I can fulfill my niece’s request below? All she wants to do is play and paint her nails red with me. I promise that I will act like an ass because I’ve done so before while riding private.

Plus, just listen to her little voice. I’m considering driving through the night just to get a mani with her tomorrow. That’s not crazy is it?

Before trying to solicit my body for a plane ride to fulfill Princess B’s wishes, Dada CBXB and I stopped by Mr. Whisker’s Liquor in Nashville Friday for a tasting of Wild Ginger Alcoholic Beer and Wild Alcoholic Root Beer (both of which are gluten free).

Beer tasting with the Big Guy.

Big guy with a tiny cup.

Naturally, we almost cleaned out the supply before heading across the street to my beloved Dalts.

Greedy grab.

Greedy grab.

Dada lasted long enough to see Bird Lady and The Silent Indian.  We were asked to ‘keep it down’ before we were even inebriated –  I mean hell, I was still on my first Skinny Pirate!

A little too loud for the patrons with hearing aids. Surprise.

A little too loud for the patrons with hearing aids.
Surprise.

So to quiet ourselves down, we opted for tequila shots.

Tequila totally tones it down.

Tequila totally tones it down.

Speaking of surprise, I ran into one of my old bandmates and we reminisced about the days when we kicked some rock ass.

Bandmates reunite!

Reunited and it feels so good.

Sleeping off my Friday fun, someone could hardly contain their excitement for Saturday.

Jumping for Saturday joy!

I wish I had .0001% of this chick’s energy.

Mustering up the gumption to get out of my mini manse proved worthwhile as I got to see my cousin who was visiting from Atlanta on a weekend girls trip. While we had good intentions to make it a brunch, it also turned into lunch and almost supper.

Hussies!

Why thank you, we’ll have another.

Just there a teeny, tiny while.

Just there a teeny, tiny five hours.

In an attempt to detox, I slapped on a face mask and wanted to soak in the suds. But Ruby Sue had other ideas and ended up in the tub with me.

Jason and

A look-a-like Jason Voorhees and my stalker.

Wanting none of the water park action, Ted and his shadow Elsa Pants barely moved the entire evening.

Two peas on a purple pod.

Two peas on a purple pod.

We moved the party to the bedroom for a change of scenery. Mr. Bear made sure his spot was secure on my chest as he evil eyed the fuck out of Elsa and Rocky.

Triple show down.

Triple show down.

Ruby Sue, deeming herself princess of the mini manse declined the slumber party and sat in her color coordinating throne.

Princess bed for a princess.

Yes, her eyes are always that wide.

Judging from my Monday morning thus far, I’ll be drinking out of this coffee mug non-stop the next five days.

Looks like this is the kinda week I'll be having. At least I have the appropriate mug.

Truth.

Here’s hoping this is a week where you have your shit together.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

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.

Wasn't even 5:30 yet.

Pretty as pictures before happy hour started.

But we quickly recovered in the beauty department.

Much better.

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).

Ready for tailgating season.

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.

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, who they loving refer gpa.

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.

Peep s'mores

Delicate deliciousness for Prince B.

 Marshmallow mania.

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.

Furniture shopping with

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?

What office is complete without zebra print chairs?

Of course there is a Hawkeye nook.

Of course there is a Hawkeye nook.

Saturday Work Day

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.

Stole from home, so had juje the dressing room walls back up.

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.

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.

Lots of laundry help.

Paw patrol.

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

Ted and his shadow, Elsa Pants.

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?

Halloween outfit decided.

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.

Today feels like that kind of Monday.

Care to join?

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

Cheers!

CBXB!