The Birthday Bitch is BACK

Getting ready to start another 365 fresh days, I’m BAAAAAACK. I’d lost (now found!) the “celebrate everyday” mantra that I was so used to pre-Rapegate. Three years without any of my usual March references…”it’s my birthday month” or “did you know my birthday is exactly three months after Christmas,” (I mean, maybe we can say I’m god’s gift, OK?) to “we’re gonna do what I wanna do because it’s my birthday MONTH.”

YOU WILL CELEBRATE AND YOU WILL FUCKING LOVE IT.

Since I was a kid, my life revolved around Christmas, my birthday and then, the Iowa State Fair. Much to my cousin B’s dismay (I can only assume), I was born right smack dab in the middle of his birthday, therefore he was forced lucky to share his special occasion with me at every March family gathering. (He’s the super happy kid to your left in the pic below).

It’s all about meeeeeeeee. Sorry, not sorry B.

Instead of forcing myself to get it together and sorta celebrate like I have the last few years, I readily have my sparkly party stilettos on and am ready to s-t-r-e-t-c-h the fuck out of my day of birth. Like, for the remaining days of March. And also, because my birthday is on Monday, it’s really only fair to make it a birthday week.

I’m gonna huff, puff and blow those motherfucking candles out. Even if I light my own.

(side note, I’m gonna need someone to make a gluten-free yellow cake with chocolate frosting with one billion multi-colored sprinkles on it, thanks).

Huff. Puff. and Blow.

Huff.

Puff.

Blow.

I’m gonna act like my mom and document the fuck out of every.single.second of my special day. Like she did with my sweet pink and purple pony cake, accompanied by my lovely oversized spectacles and semi-mullet hair do.

My most gorgeous birthday photo ever.

Hello Gorgeous.

Documenting attire like the time she allowed (like anyone could ever allow me to do anything) me to celebrate my birthday with sweet wispy bangs and a crocheted vest that looked like one of my Grandma Vogel’s doilies she so effortlessly made.

Crochet nightmare

Always so fashion forward.

Celebrate

More my speed these days.

I’m going to open every text, social media well wish, card and gift like it’s the one and only thing I’ve ever received in my life.

Always act surprised.

Holy shit! I love it! No, truly I do.

I will not be holding up fingers to commemorate the age of which I am turning because I ran out of fingers after the age of 10. (side note: how hilarious is it that I have a shirt on that says First Mate, First Mate?).

Insist

I’m this many today.

I may, however, enlist the peeps around me to count other birthday fun.

When you’re out of fingers on both hands, just count drinks.

When one of you does show up at the mini manse door with my gluten-free cake in hand, I am going to need a shit ton of frosting on it. And having a crown crafted of construction paper wouldn’t hurt either.

Scoobs.

Paper Princess.

Then I may need assistance with eating the delivered cake if my hands are full with cocktails.

Keepin' it classy. As usual.

Are your hands clean?

I’m already practicing my ‘birthday adorable’ look that I mastered oh so few years ago for photo capturing.

Mug for the camera.

Oh who me? Why yes it is my birthday. I’ll just hold this pose for the rest of the day.

It’s a tradition I am still working on.

Adorableness FAIL.

Work in progress.

I’m going to dance, jump and twirl (but not down) to my heart’s content, acting as if I have one ounce of rhythm somewhere in my body.

PARTY!

Mosh pits before mosh pits were cool.

Dance

I may try a high kick, which for me is possibly as high as my hip…if I’m lucky.

Head banging also accepted.

This seems to be the appropriate dance moves when we run out of fingers in which to count cocktails.

I’m probably going to invest in some sort of kazoo or party favor to carry around next week so when anyone asks how my day is going, I’ll just blow it in their face. Like a classy lady.

Blow it out.

I’m fabulous. It’s my birthday week.

I’m gonna surround myself with my fabulous friends forcing in celebratory fashion.

The more, the merrier.

Oh the variety of bangs…

Did I mention it was all about me?

Along with gluten-free cake, diamonds, Louis Vuittons, rescue cats, anything sparkly, Iowa Hawkeye football season tickets, anything skull, stilettos, bubble bath, a new deep jet bath tub for said bubble bath, I will also be accepting birthday shots, wine and Skinny Pirates.

Why thank you

Birthdays taste so good.

I may or may not have consumed all liquids at this table.

Birthday Skinny Pirate in the house!

They just “get” me at Dalts.

This year, I’ll be drinking to the wise words my Gma always told me as I bitched about growing another year older, “having another birthday sure beats the alternative.” Jesus, it sure fucking does. I’ll drink to that!

Truth.

Now, who wants to celebrate with me?

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Ghostbusters, Rockstars and Star Wars

Oh Halloween.

How I love the kick off to a long-awaited holiday season, especially when it falls on a weekend.  Oftentimes as a kid, I had multiple costumes for different Halloween parties (the horror of wearing the same thing twice), so I followed my own tradition and mixed it up this year.

Stay Puft mania!

Stay Puft Marshmallow man mania!

My costume was so on point that the TV show The Goldbergs tried to bring back the beloved ’80s Ghostbusters characters only to fail.

Suck it Goldbergs!

Suck it Goldbergs!

As you can see, our group dominated this category. And we did our own costuming.

Ghostbusters

Ghostbusters done right.

Another Halloween scene called for more comfortable attire, as my crew was going to see a show and I didn’t really want to sweat (let’s be real, I don’t sweat, I glisten) to death (plus, I wanted to pee and the Stay Puft outfit makes you hold it for however long you’re wearing it).

Rock Trio

Lenny Kravitz, Alice Cooper and Kid Rock.

Not to be left out, my fave little chug (chihuahua + pug mix) Precious was an adorable little ladybug.

Ladybug

Most precious lady beetle ever.

Those Iowa twins of mine? They’re obsessed with Star Wars (as all kids I know have been except yours truly…I still don’t get it but whatever).

IMG_8264

Yes I know. The cutest fucking Princess Leia and Yoda you’ve ever seen.

Seeing how excited the twins were over their costumes, I decided Ted and I would stay in the same family of sorts and dress up as galaxy characters as well.

PastedGraphic-1

October 31st happened to not only be the day of candy collecting but also a game day for my beloved Iowa Hawkeyes, who have yet to lose a game and are ranked #10 in the nation (yeah, that’s right!).  My team was geared up to keep their record pristine against the Maryland Terps (turtles, in case you didn’t know what a terp was because I didn’t know).

Trick or Treat

Ghoulish game day treats.

Teddy Back Bear

Teddy Back Bear enjoying some ribs while still trying to put weight on after his bought with illness.

So….with all of that being said, our touchdown tradition carried on in great force on Saturday!

TD 1

Touchdown celebration #1!

TD 2

Celebration shot #2!

TD 3

Third touchdown is a charm!

Victory

Victory is sweet!

Now one of my blogging besties, Mark Bialczak is a fellow Big Ten fan, who cheers on his Maryland Terps. Last year, we had a bet that whomever’s team lost must be featured on the winner’s blog and ….. here he is in all of his loser glory this year!

Terp stew.

A Terp loss means a bottle of wine is needed.

Kinda feeling bad...but let's be real. The Hawks have sucked for years and the T

But how bad do we feel that his other team was the Mets?!

The celebration carried on to my fave Nashville watering hole, Dalts.

Skinny Pirates are my treat!

Skinny Pirates are a treat to my tricks!

Isn’t the day after Halloween the best when you are tallying up your treats?

Loot Round Up

Princess B laying out her line up.

You know my twins Clark and Cousin Eddie are still hanging with Gpa CBXB as Ted is still in weight gaining mode.

Cuddles

A belly big enough for two.

Ted was exhausted from all of the weekend shenanigans (of course) so he made it beyond difficult to do anything the rest of the weekend.

So I didn’t do shit.

Snoozefest

Snoozefest 2015.

Here’s hoping you are recovered from any kind of sugar overdose you may have encountered.

Cheers!

CBXB

 

Weekend Winks – Booze, Babes and Fur Balls

You know those nights when you mean to have one cocktail and then accidentally go to bed with the bottle?

Hello Weekend. We missed you.

Hello Weekend. We missed you.

Oh you don’t know that feeling? Well, I lost track of how many ounces were consumed during a marathon gab fest Friday night where I meant to stop at my girl Jdub’s for a few drinks.

But then it was who knows what time and black stretch pants came out of her closet and my heels were thrown to the floor.

Yoga pants and bare feet for everyone!

Yoga pants and bare feet for everyone!

Then all of a sudden it was light outside and when I tried to pry my super glued eyelids open (well, that’s what it feels like when you accidentally sleep in your hard contacts), I found my face full of fur under this ass…

She's just big boned.

My neck felt amazing.

When I went to take my dehydrated, foggy visioned self home I couldn’t find my leopard jeans, so I rolled out in Jdub’s bootleg yoga pants that hit me at my ankles. Which nicely featured my sky high heels on a very early Saturday morning fashion don’t.

Hello hot stuff.

A whole different kind of walk of shame complete with white dog hair covering every inch of black material.

My Iowa twins were also rolling around in fur but it was by choice. I mean, who doesn’t dress up in their Halloween giddy-ups for the shits and giggles of it?

Cat and dogs. Dogs and cats.

This puppy loves a belly rub.

When dressing up gets old and boring after six minutes, there’s nothing like a little face paint.

Dirty Prince.

Dirty Prince.

Dirty Princess

Dirtier Princess.

But not to worry, they clean up to be two of the cutest faces on the planet.

Clean up real nice. Sparkling

A sparkling duo.

I bet Prince and Princess B wished their auntie would clean up her act but it is simply impossible. My dad and I were loading up on Skinny Pirates at Dalts when a fellow patron showed us my new favorite app.  You select a photo and the app puts a caption with it.

My dad got eaten by a shark…

IMG_5164

…while I think the person who created this app knows me a little too well.

IMG_5162

Speaking of drinking, look what is now on the beer market –

Cross Bones Beer

I think they could have used some of my sparkliness in their labels, yes?

As the weekend wound down, it was time to snuggle up with my fave houseguest and chug, Precious.

Sweet face

She knows she’s cute.

Luckily for me Presh and the cats get along fabulously. Maybe even a little too fabulously. Because now there’s barely room for my ample derriere on my leopard lair. Especially when New Cat is conducting high kicks.

Barely room for me.

I was given seven inches of space.

Here’s hoping you get a little more space on the couch than me this week.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

They Call Me Captain

It’s funny how a nickname can commence.

CBXB as Captain.

The Captain.

I’m sure my parent’s hearts burst with pride knowing that I’ve obtained a substitute moniker that refers to my favorite rum, Captain Morgan.

Possible love of my life.

The spicy love of my life – other than Ted, of course.

I’m not sure the exact moment I fell head over heels for Captain but when the mix of this piquant rum and Diet Coke crossed my lips for the first time, the love of a Skinny Pirate was born and I’ve had one in hand almost ever since.

Double down

Documenting my liquid affection.

You see, Skinny Pirates are just the perfect accompaniment to any life situation…

Sneaky sneak.

Sneaky sneak time movie fun.

Keeping me cool in the pool

Keeping me cool in the sun.

Go Hawks

Cheering me through Iowa Hawkeyes game days like it’s my religion.

Holiday tradition

Creating Griswold family style traditions.

Keep you cool

Quenching my thirst after work outs.

Puts the ho in my down at country shows

Putting the ho in my down at country shows.

Fancy Captain

Following me from fancy places…

fancy place to low class spaces

…. to low class spaces.

Double fist, so don't leave out

Even when I try to cheat, Captain just can’t be beat.

Easily swallowed through a sippy cup.

Easily swallowed through a sippy cup.

Holiday helper

Skinny Pirates also help loosen the holidays up.

No hands

No hands needed to drink this libation.

Captain helps me sparkle

And my Captain keeps me sparkling on every occassion.

Good time Captain

There when I celebrate small life successes.

Mani

An inspiration for making Mani Mondays a bit excessive.

Selfie helper

Always keeping me company at the bar.

So what if my dream boat is a fake pirate?

So what if my main squeeze comes from a glass jar?

As you can see, my favorite libation is never far from my reach and Captain is suitable in addressing me.

The Captain

In fashion with Captain.

As my favorite pirate says, “To live, love and loot!”

You’d better cheers with me or this Captain will give you the boot.
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!

Please Hand Me My Cocktail. NOW.

Ever have one of those weeks you can’t wait to put behind you?

Where, when the day is over you find yourself telling the past 10 hours to SUCK IT?

Image

This picture says it all, doesn’t it?

Three cheers the weekend is here!

Drink up, my pretties (or I will do it for you – *cue evil witch laugh*)…

Now where’s my Skinny Pirate?

CBXB

CBXB!

How to Conduct a Trashtacular Moonshine Toast

Keepin' the family tradition alive...

Keepin’ the family tradition alive…

Being from such a classy clan, we started a tradition a few years ago to celebrate every touchdown or field goal that our favorite college football team, the Iowa Hawkeyes, score with a shot of one’s choice (this way no matter what the outcome of the game, you can have fun – even if your team sucks (which is how this lovely tradition began). Unless they score nothing of course, and if that’s the case, get a new team).

This past weekend, my dad really upped ante (and kept it Southern) by blowing the dust off of a jar of moonshine for our required celebratory shots.

Popcorn Sutton White Whiskey (it's called whiskey instead of moonshine because they pay taxes).

Popcorn Sutton White Whiskey (it’s called white whiskey instead of moonshine because they pay taxes).

In order to prep for a trashtacular toast (and be sure you’re ready for a photo-op), you must first be sure your three free fingers that aren’t holding the shot glass are available for a partial jazz hand.

Digits

Digits prepped and ready.

Second, make sure your ‘do is did. Right before this pic was snapped, my dad said, “I hope I combed my hair.”

Either way, it was too late as the toast was already in motion.

Hair

What hair? The one strand on top of your head?

Next, be sure you prolong the inevitable by clinking your glasses several times.

Don't forget the fingers.

Again, don’t forget the fingers.

Then before you take the shot, say something really clever like my dad, who said, “You know, once you go moonshine you never……….”

*Silence*

*Crickets*

Feel free to borrow this toast whenever you shoot moonshine next.

Down the hatch slowly...

Trepidatious cheers.

Boom!

Down the hatch…

Smooth?

Smooth. But hopefully the Hawks don’t score again until the second half.

Never one to be at a loss for words (unless he’s conducting a toast), my dad concluded our initial shot by saying, “Best shine I ever had.”

My response followed, “Oh no shit, Dad. It’s the first time you’ve ever had moonshine,” (although Popcorn Sutton is awfully tasty – it also mixes well with lemonade or Diet Coke for you white whiskey connoisseurs that aren’t down with our family tradition of straight shooting).

While we were hemming and hawing over the “best shine ever,” the Hawkeyes scored again.

Again?!

For F’s sake. Again?! And again. And again.

So even if your team loses (like ours did in the last ten seconds), you can have some bright, shiny fun watching the game anyway with a little bit of Southern likker.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!