Weekend Winks – Holy Shits, Dips and Shots

There’s all kinds of crazy taking place in my Nashville bubble and I can’t say that I hate it.

Precious and I made our Billboard.com debut in music artist Ryan Kinder’sStill Believe in Crazy Love,” (scroll all of the way to the bottom of the article to watch the entire) video. There’s a long, fabulous story behind this experience I will share later (regarding Rapegate) but I did what any normal person does when they have their two seconds of fame.

Celebrating on a budget.

No pawtographs, please.

Naturally, I had to go out to toast my newfound famousness and First Mate was happy to oblige my obsession with myself.

Why am I not being bombarded?

While I basked in my glow of nothingness, the Iowa twins continue to morph into little people and are more hilarious than ever.

Princess B has been rocking pigtails, enjoying the Indian summer above the Mason Dixon line while she cheers her bro on in anything sports related.

Smiles for miles.

No. No it does not get any cuter.

Speaking of sports, I’ve been nil reporting on our tailgating shenanigans and Dada CBXB and I were in full force this weekend.

Her version of tailgating.

Our version of tailgating included almost every liquor under the sun, my dad’s self-dubbed “World Famous Wings,” the blogfamous “Eat Shit and Die Guacamole,” and snacks to soak up our hope of scoring any points against the number four ranked Penn State.

Spread right.

I made sure to be gussied up with sparkles and shine for a little extra luck for my Hawks.

Black, gold and perfectly bold Keds for Kate Spade sneakers.

Trying to one up Gwen Stefani by wearing my boyfriend’s face on my shirt instead of my shoe.

Much to our delight, we were able to do a traditional touchdown shot right before halftime because the Hawkeyes scored. Yeehaw!

We just wanted to drink….we didn’t think it’d actually be a good game!

As the second half wore on, our Cinderella team grew thisclose to beating the Nittany Lions with a last minute touchdown. Did you hear me screaming Saturday night?


The Hawkeyes did not hear my victory cries because they lost during the last play of the game with four seconds left. But we did an “E” for effort shot and are proud fans for hanging that close as an unranked, always overlooked team.

How ’bout them Hawks?!

Losers brunch was delish, as it was my dad’s self-dubbed “World Famous Omelette,” which never disappoints.

Breakfast of non-champions.

It’s been just over a month since I suddenly lost the furry little love of my life, Ted. And while I can’t yet write a full post about the magnitude of his loss to me, I miss him every single second of every single day.

But funny how I saw this Facebook memory and within minutes received a message from the gal who runs the cat rescue in which I’m a poster child, saying there may be someone I should go check out at Pet Smart if I was ready.

I have a love/hate relationship with the fucking memories that pop up on Facebook daily.

It took all of four seconds with my torso in the kennel to decide what the next chapter of pussy life will be like at the mini manse.


A little shopping around with my newest pussy and shooting our first selfie before heading home.

Who doesn’t do this?

While the newest member of the fam has decided his fave place is under my bed, updates will follow as I mold him into my sidekick. Boy, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s in for – hope he’s ready by Halloween for matching outfits.

Here’s to having a fabulous week.




How to Almost Burn Down a Mini Manse

I’m a woman of many talents.

I photobomb like it’s my career, my dainty laugh makes 80-year-old men want to fight me,  I have a knack for getting strange dudes to send me dick pics and I’m on the brink of being Nashville’s cray cray cat lady.  However, I recently uncovered a new ability of mine when I almost burned my entire apartment complex to the ground with a microwave and a glittery paper plate.

All that glitters is not gold. It's more of an orange color with a yellow tint that when combined together create a blaze.

All that glitters is not gold.
It’s more of an orange color with a yellow tint that when combined together create a blaze.

It all started with these gorgeous red paper plates, rimmed in silver sparkles because an ordinary white hue was all too normal for me to purchase.

Of course I had to have them.

Food tastes better when combined with glitter, yes?

Maybe it was because I had five one too many Skinny Pirates the night before but I thought it was a good idea to throw the shimmering piece of flimsy cardboard into the microwave in order to heat up chicken fingers (also from the previous evening that may or may not have sat on the counter all night long).

Don't worry. I'm sure I have at least 22 brain cells left.

Don’t worry.
I’m sure I have at least 22 brain cells left.

Upon closing the appliance door and setting the timer for 30 seconds, I stepped away from the kitchen, distracted by one of New Cat’s many attempts to commit suicide by sitting on the banister of my second balcony porch.

No energy to thwart suicide attempts by New Cat.

Thinking long and hard about how rough he has it in my mini manse. Fucker.

In the mere seconds I was away rescuing my idiot pussy, something started happening in the microwave.

A stench started to quickly fill the air.

By the time I got back to the kitchen, flames were bursting through the microwave door as the timer counted down to zero.

For a moment, all I could think about was the loss of my chicken tenders. My hungover ass then snapped out of it and flung the door of the appliance open to find a smoldering, disintegrating plate with burnt to a crisp pieces of poultry attached to it.

So glitter doesn't warm well.

So…… sparkles don’t warm well.

Mourning the loss of my food like broken high heel, I was further pissed off thinking that the manufacturer of this piece of shit plate didn’t list any danger warnings about putting a metallic glitter plate into the microwave for all of the dumb asses out there who apparently don’t know foil starts on fire in a microwave like yours truly.

Then I turned the crispy plate over.


I may have missed something here.

Once I realized I wasn’t even close to being the most mediocre genius on the planet, my feelings of grief were geared toward the loss of my beloved red (because white is too normal) microwave that now smelled like a year-long bonfire had taken place inside and ceased to run properly.


The not so sparkly remnants of a small kitchen fire.

Much to my hungover delight, Target (my mothership) had a shiny red appliance just waiting for me on the store shelf later that day.

Forced to invest in a new appliance.

It’s a kitchen miracle.

Forced to utilize my lingering brain cells, I tried to figure out how to unplug the old glitter cooker from behind the refrigerator without having to move the 250 lb unit.

Not going well.

This might as well have been brain surgery.

You guys, it’s hard being a blonde with so many talents.



Who wants to come over for a fancy chicken tenders dinner and watch me put my new microwave to use tonight?

Don’t worry, I got new glitter plates.




How to Give a Trashy Gift From the Heart

Know someone who has had a particularly shitty year? Well, do I have a cheap and easy gift idea for you!

Being the classy lady (it is white trash Wednesday here at CBXB after all), one of my life’s mantras is “SUCK IT.”

My entire year of 2010, one gigantic black cloud followed me daily, pouring buckets of disaster over my head.  I lost my job, ended a six-year relationship, moved out of the house we’d shared for five years and moved in with my parents (every adult’s dream) all in one January week.

After all of that fun, I fell into a depression, wound up broke, finding myself in a mountain of debt, had friends crap out on me and got taken to the cleaners so inexplicably and despicably, I could have starred in my own Lifetime movie (which I would have rocked, of course. Then I could just be the girl who shows up in every single Lifetime movie with a small role. Job of my dreams!).

So needless to say, I was beyond thrilled December 31, 2010. I couldn’t wait to tell the past year to kiss my ass, so I decided to concoct my perfect New Year’s Eve attire by making my own T-shirt.

Who knew a little glitter glue and puffy paint could make a gal so happy?!

Who knew a little glitter and glue could make a gal so happy?!

And to convey my excitement over counting down the last ten seconds of the year…

Just to convey my excitement counting backward from 10. I have such a small mouth, don't I?

I have such a small mouth, don’t I?

Although I’m still climbing my way out of financial canyons due to circumstances out of my control two year’s ago, this shirt helped me put pep back into my step. I got my happy back!

Loving my bedazzled T-shirt so much (it hangs outside of my closet as ‘art’ because I giggle every time I see it), I’ve recreated a version for friends who could use a little pick me up after their past year, in the hope it brings a chuckle. All for about $10.

Here’s what you’ll need:

Glitter fabric paint or puffy paint (yeah, it’s still around!)

Glitter for fabric (I usually stick with silver because it will show on any color)

Basic colored T-shirt

This set will cost you about $7 and last you through many DIY projects

This set will cost you about $7 and last you through many DIY projects.

I can usually find T-shirts at Target for around $6. Cheaper if they’re short-sleeved or a tank (if you choose a tank, make sure it isn’t ribbed).

Wash and dry the t-shirt before starting your painting masterpiece.

Wash and dry the shirt before starting your one of a kind masterpiece.

Put something between the shirt to keep from

Put something between the shirt to keep the glue from sticking to the back…yes, I learned the hard way.

I use a silver colored Sharpie to

I use a silver-colored Sharpie to pattern my words, so I can just retrace with puffy paint.

After you have finished with the glue, it’s time for my favorite part – piling on the glitter!

Pile on the glitter!

I let this set for a few hours before shaking the excess off.

And just like that, you’ve created a piece that will bring a smile to your buddy’s face. ‘Tis the season, right?

The end result..

Good tidings of cheer!

If this message a little too vulgar for you, please remember, one gal’s trash is another gal’s treasure.

Oh and if it’s not a gift well received?

Just tell them to SUCK IT.


The Deer Hunter, Sparkly Style

Being from Iowa, where deer might as well be counted in the state’s population and now residing in the gun happy, hunting hungry South, I felt the need to join my kinfolk (people seriously still use that word) to mount a deer head on my wall.

Now, I’m an avid animal lover (I feel badly when I see road kill and yell at people when they drive too fast through my neighborhood because we have chipmunks! Don’t run over a chipmunk for Christ’s sake! What would Alvin or Simon do without Theodore?). So there’s no way in hell I would ever hunt and shoot a deer (scarred from one terrifying incident as a 10 year old that involved me, my dad and a poor pheasant first with a head, then without), let alone eat Bambi, then stuff and mount, only to have its sad eyes follow me like a creepy, old, oil portrait painting in a haunted house.

My hunt was less painstaking as the real deal but just as time-consuming.  There was no camouflage to be worn, no tree stands to squeeze into and no 4am wake up time, however I couldn’t find my counterfeit piece anywhere. As deer season pressed on, I was left thinking I wouldn’t bag one (let alone three antlered bucks, which is the state limit in Tennessee) as I perused the flea market, scoured the shelves at local thrift shops and just knew someone’s grandkids donated a treasure of this magnitude to Goodwill upon their passing, only to end up with a lonely bit of wall space.

And then, I saw it.

Its pink sparkle catching my eye in the harsh fluorescent lighting.  I quietly crept toward the beautiful creature (so as not to alarm other shoppers of a fabulous find), inching my way up to the shelf, carefully moving the camouflage of a shiny picture frame, a bedazzled mug and glittery candles it hid behind.  And then BANG! My arm shot through the merchandise so fast, the deer didn’t know what had hit it before it landed at the bottom of my cart. Ladies and gentlemen, I had just bagged my first deer.

How much more fabulous is this than the real deal? Beyond in my book. And a lot less messy. Deer decor, $9.99. TJ Maxx.

I made my Iowa peers proud and staked my claim in the Southern soil, all with one hunting transaction. Plus, it’s one hell of a conversation piece, hanging above my toilet (I only wish I could hear the thoughts running through minds upon spotting it. I imagine they start something like “That crazy…”) as I display it like a trophy.

And that my friends, is how you bag a deer. Sparkly style.