Give Her the F’ing Nuts You SOB!

WARNING! Excessive profanity contained in the paragraphs below (spewed from a four-year-old’s mouth). Read at your own risk.

My foul mouthed sister in her earlier days. Don’t let this sweet face fool you.

My entire family (yes, I can say that proudly) has a knack for our fabulous trashiness (see White Trash Wednesday or anything in the Grizzies category).  After previous posts divulging of family classiness, I could not resist sharing “The Great McDonald’s Ice Cream Incident” once again. I first divulged this jewel a year ago when I had all of nine readers, therefore none of you who aren’t relation will be laying eyes on this for the first time (lucky you).

Growing up in a small (population 1,200) Iowa farming community, our Saturday nights were spent 20 minutes away at the nearest Pizza Hut (I thought was so fancy – I used to be easily impressed. USED to be).  Often times my grandma and grandpa would join us for our family date night and we would head to McDonald’s for ice cream afterward.

One Saturday we were on our journey through the drive thru, Dad chauffeuring us in the front seat with Grandpa.  My mom, sister, grandma and myself were all in the back and giving our orders (sounds like a dream of a Saturday night, huh?).  As Dad was receiving and passing the treats out, my sister got her sundae.

My four-year-old sibling looked my dad square in the face and said (without hesitation or skipping a beat), “You goddamn son-of-a-bitch I wanted nuts on my sundae.”

Immediate silence followed (although I was instantly delighted that I wasn’t the sister in trouble this time).

I assume my reaction was something like this one captured above (you’re loving the classy outfit with hair clips, aren’t you?).

Moments later, reactions set in. Grandpa busted out laughing. Grandma’s jaw hit the floor.  My mom leaned up over the seat to hiss in my dad’s ear,  “MICHAEL!” and my dad replied, “What? I don’t say those words,” (which I instantaneously knew was a lie because anytime he had his head under a sink being the ‘plumber,’ I never remembered him saying shoot, gosh darn it or duck).

Little did Grandpa know how his heart would burst with secret pride over my sister’s nut rant a few years after this photo was snapped.

So, my toddler sister just put the phrase together all in her own right? Well, being classy, a little trashy and quickly having my sister’s back, my grandma said, “I bet she learned it from all of those John Wayne movies.”  Um, yeah, since we had a three channel cable line up in our metropolis.

Being white trash is knowing better but doing it anyway, while not giving a rat’s ass what anyone else thinks. My sister just got a head start – you gotta love her spunkiness!

All guts and glory for this kid.

So fabulously trashy…I can’t wait to see how her kids carry on the tradition.

CBXB

CBXB!

Key West Winks

Leaving Nashville and heading to sunny Key West was no difficult task.  I managed to fit right in with the red necks, gays and high-class folks (well, not really this group) but having a pool boy wait on me hand and foot for days on end was fabulous…

Where's Tom Hanks when you need him?

Where’s Tom Hanks and a blow dryer when you need him?

I kicked off my trip with a Sunset Colada – Captain Morgan in a pina colada. Hello love at first sip!

Captain Rita

Captain Colada

While sipping on my new favorite beach cocktail, I died and went to heaven, then came back to Earth as I ate fresh stone crab claws.

Stone crab heaven

Is this heaven? No, it’s just a crab claw.

We crossed the longest bridges that I’ve ever seen – it was like the movie Groundhog’s Day, only above water.

World's longest bridges

Have I been here before? Or am I just having a blonde moment?

Meanwhile in Nashville, Teddy was putting a voodoo hex on me with his glowing eyes and ultra scowly face. I received this photo while pulling into the hotel…(don’t let that face fool you. Mom said it sounded like a bowling alley when Ted and his two feline uncles were playing the nights away – he was having fun but just being a bitch about it!).

Hate eyes

Paybacks are HELL.

I quickly forgot about what a grouchy cat I’d be coming home to once I laid eyes on my home for the next few days.

Fancy

Palm trees? Oceanside balconies? Can I stay indefinitely? PLEASE?!

Upon checking into the hotel, I wanted to see what beach rules I could break.

Which one applies to me...?

What? No moonshine?!

Regardless, I was overjoyed to be on vacation and accidentally got ‘happy’ in the hammock.

This is what a crasher looks like

Oh glorious vacay day!

And then on the way to dinner, I then gave my best Cameron Diaz impression from There’s Something About Mary.

There's something about....bad bangs

Ben Stiller bangs.

After a relatively early evening (the hammock cocktail party started way too early), I got up the next morning and did yoga on the beach. There was only one other person, so it was like a private session – score!

I could get used to this…

After the hour-long (exhausting because I was so dehydrated) yoga, I parked it poolside with a mimosa (because alcohol always helps rehydrate, right?).

So...think this could be the way I want to start every day. Mimosa in hand

Yoga and booze. The way every day should begin.

My home away from home proved to be more luxurious and relaxing than the mini manse I share with Ted.

This didn't suck

This didn’t suck.

As I walked the streets of Key West, I realized it should be my new place of residence.  Pink shutters….

Shutter me timbers

Shutter me timbers!

Kit cat mailboxes…(and yes, I was a creepy tourist almost on someone’s front porch. Trespassing, anyone?).

I'm destined for this mail box. I'm not the only cray cray cat lady!

I’m destined for this mail box.

And pink taxis…!

Taxi me..

I wanted to drive this cab back to Nashville to use as my personal vehicle.

After walking the streets of Key West for all of 1/2 mile, it was pool time once again.

134th Skinny Pirate of the vacay.

Walking makes me so thirsty.

While I was enjoying my 139th Skinny Pirate, I came up with a brilliant idea. All on accident…

Nice place to keep a straw when not drinking.  I should probably patton this idea

Hair makes a nice place to keep a straw when not drinking. I should probably patent this idea, don’t you think?

After all of the rum, I balanced out with a little (really, a truckload of) food. Lobster and corn on the cob (not as good as Iowa sweet corn but still good enough to eat like I’d just discovered a new delicatessen) happily kept me grounded (and the room from spinning).

The 32nd time I stuffed my face. Lobster and corn (not as good as Iowa sweet corn but still good enough to eat like I'd just discovered a new delicatessen).

The 26th time I stuffed my face.

Between mouthfuls of lobster and sips of Skinny Pirates, I commented on a fellow bar rat’s Tennessee hat.  Our conversation went as follows (with me doing most of the talking – surprise!):

“OMG! You’re from Iowa? Me too! You used to live in Des Moines?! Me too! You’re a Hawkeye fan wearing a Tennessee hat? Wait, you live in Nashville?! Me too!”  This man was so schnokered up, he would have told me he was my long, lost uncle and I would have believed him. Being blonde is hard work.

Iowans unite!

Iowans unite!

While perusing shops at midnight with an overloaded stomach, I saw this oh-so-perfect for me dish towel.  I wanted to break the glass window of the closed store to get it…hence the reason why I needed the damn towel!

Could this be any more perfect? I wanted to break the glass of the closed store to get it...hence the reason why I needed the damn towel!

Fitting, yes?

Keeping the make new friends tradition alive, I ran into a local Key West celeb (I only knew this after he was pointed out to me, therefore I felt the need to rush right over and become instant besties)- the mayor. So I did what all tourists do and got the camera out.

My new best friend. No I won't be your Deputy Mayor.

No, I won’t be your Deputy Mayor.

Ten hour days of cocktailing is exhausting work.  Below is what I require in order to marathon drink five days in a row…

Please follow the rules and shut the F up!

Please follow the rules and shut the F up!

While a little sad on the way back to Nashville, I snapped pics of the bridges once again. Only this time I was about 2.3 million brain cells short of completing a panoramic shot with my iPhone.

The wizardry of my photo genius. I somehow missed half of the car. Yes, you can hire me but it's going to cost you.

The wizardry of my photo genius. I somehow missed half of the car. Yes, you can hire me but it’s going to cost you.

So was Mr. Bear happy to see my tanned, relaxed face?  I think all of you cat owners know the answer.

He's seriously rolling his eyes.  Seriously.

He’s seriously rolling his eyes. Seriously.

Forced snuggling usually does the trick…

Force snuggle always works.

Not light as a feather but as stiff as a board.

And when snuggling doesn’t work, I use the mauling tactic.

Like he hates being mauled.

Ted loves to hate this.

You can imagine my happiness when I stepped into a nice pile of “F-you Mom” regurgitated cat food yesterday morning. And now I can rest easy, knowing I was missed.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!