Summer Snaps

While it seemed the month of January lasted 100 days earlier this year, how in the fuck is it now the middle of June? Bananas.

I’ve taken a slide down the regression train the last two months in regard to Rapegate and its aftermath full of PTSD and what not but – BUT with the help of my family, friends and fur balls, my wheels are still on the track, although daily WD40 is required at this point. Here’s what kept me moving and grooving…

Sometimes all you need are ladies who help keep your crown held high. And wine. Lots and lots of wine.

A night in with laughs, snacks and shenanigans.

I decided to get CPR certified, so maybe when I’m having my own panic attacks I can calm myself the fuck down (just kidding…only chewing on Xanax and getting on all fours does the trick for me). When we were practicing chest compressions on our dummies, the instructor asked who I was mad at…angry much? Yes, I believe I will be taking up kick boxing or kung fu in the near future.

It was the shit watching Nashville’s NHL hockey team, the Predators make their second appearance in the Stanley Cup playoffs, complete with watch parties.

Fang Fingers!

While they didn’t make it to the end, it was a season full of fun with reasons to partake in cocktails whether they won or lost.

Reasons for seasons.

There’s always reminders that I need to stop and smell the roses lilacs, compliments of my Princess B. She knows what’s up.

She reminds me that I always have time to stop and smell the wine.

Not drinking alone if your cats are home.

Or your chug.

Summer sports are in full swing and I think I have a sports star in the making with Prince B.

Sports stud on the rise.

I don’t know if Prince B could do it without the support from his sister, who clearly only comes to his games to watch.

Cheerleading at its finest.

You wanna know what else is a ‘holy fuck?!’ moment? My Iowa twins graduated Pre-K. We have official kindergarteners on ours hands people.

First and last day pics.

As soon as the summer vacation commenced, these two were on it full speed ahead.

Vacay the right way.

Oh and my tender-hearted nephew is about to melt your heart. Even if its dead and cold. He recently shaved his head because he wanted matching ‘dos with his dad.

Like father, like son.

In other happy news, my dophew, Spike, celebrated his third trip around the sun.

Spike with his fave kind of bone.

And in possibly the best news yet, the mini manse’s pool opened.

Summer hydration IV.

Rasta and I celebrated our one year anniversary – we met at the pool last year. Awe.

Alcohol and Bad Decisions.

More happiness with my fabulous stylist who not only is one of my besties but makes me laugh AND makes my hair dreams come true.

He does the hair. I provide the accessories.

 

The pink glitter cup he gifted me left me with surprises in my pie hole.

Sequin tooth in place. Does this give me street cred?

Bird Lady and I found a new bar, Firefly Bar and Grille, where I want to move in as they have their Christmas lights up all year long inside. Better yet, when one strand burns out, they leave it up and just put new ones over the old strand. Be still my beating heart.

Firefly and feeling fine.

When my gal pal from college came in, we shut that damn bar down while showing off our jazz hands we perfected in our collegiate show choir. Yep. We were cool like that.

Jazz hands still on point.

There have been many a Friday night where I want to stay in and get wild with organization. But this keeps happening…

So I catch up on how to murder people without getting caught. Don’t piss me off.

I’m also happy to report that Nashville is finally joining the 1980s and offering wine on Sundays now. We still can’t purchase liquor but I’ll settle for Jesus juice.

Miracles do come true.

Speaking of miracles, my loudmouth was allowed on a golf course to play a bit of put-put (or as real golfers call it, golf) while also delivering snacks and booze. All for a fabulous cause – Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital at Vanderbilt. Over $300,000 was raised for the kids.

Koozies make the best earrings.

When they told me to stock up the cart with snacks, I pretended I was on Supermarket Sweep and took just about everything in sight.

Griswolds of the golf course.

Roaming around on the golf course are sheep and being the animal lover I am, I wanted to take one home. But I settled for a photo instead, where they look like white blobs behind a big slob.

The famous sheep with a gigantic asshat.

In other famous news, Princess B got all dolled up for her second recital. And while I am very proud of her, I am also beyond jealous of her costume and am considering an extreme diet so I can squeeze my ample rear end into it.

Dancing Queen

Since she supported her brother in baseball, it was only fair he happily did the same…complete with the proper dance picture pose.

Hands on hips.

I used to be an avid jogger. My bed seems so much better these days, yet, First Mate got me out of my shell and coaxed me into participating in a Coconut RAD (Random Ass Distance) Run. Rasta was so moved, she made us a support poster.

The only way I will run anymore is if I can also hold booze.

One size fits “most”…uh, yeah, right.

While we were far from first place, we were also far from last. And, we couldn’t say no to rum in our coconuts.

Middle of the pack finishers!

No better way to cool off than a party day with Dada CBXB.

Race day cool down.

Suns Out, Buns Out.

I took one for the team, rounding up my dad’s ginormous sandals when it was time to leave.

You all know how much I love my fur balls and one in particular is having some issues. Precious the chug passed out yesterday on the way out for a walk. She’s been to the vet and had tests done, so please send your good juju her way.

Hopeful to get some pep back in her pitiful step.

That, my friends is a long winded catch up. The many reasons I have to smile has everything to do with you.

Thank you.

XOXO

CBXB

 

 

Weekend Winks – Merry Moments

Anyone else love the holiday season?

I hate celebrating.

We packed up the Nashville sleigh and headed to see the Iowa twins for their third visit from Santa.

Twice the fun!

Precious the chug came as my mascot and was voted most popular over the Christmas weekend.

Presh had no clue what she was in for all weekend.

She was squeezed, kissed, loved and given the new name Pweshy by the twins.

Princess B and Princess P.

When the chug was napping, Auntie CBXB’s makeup bag was quite the exciting place to play.

Easy, breezy, beautiful cover girl.

Both twins obviously have a future in the beauty industry as I demonstrated their mad application skills.

Ready for date night.

After scrubbing my face for what felt like a solid eight hours, we moved on to matching manicures.

I’m being told EXACTLY how to apply the polish.

And then…it was Christmas eve Griswold family style.

Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where’s the Tylenol?

Speaking of the Griswolds, Dada CBXB has been watching my adopted feline twins Clark and Cousin Eddie since my main squeeze Ted E. Bear has been adjusting to life with inflammatory bowel disease and pancreatitis (both treatable in cats!). Since he’s had them the past few months, Dad’s fallen in love and we made it official as I pretended to be the Griswold character Aunt Bethany and wrapped up my damn cats, gifting them to the big guy.

Dada and his Griswold twins.

Santa delivered all kinds of festive fun but I decided to dress up as his sparkly girlfriend for the shits and giggles of merriment.

We need some Christmas spirit.
Obviously.

The biggest gift under the tree helped someone think they were hot shit taking their new power wheel out for a spin.

Not hating life.

I was also not hating life as I bonded with my new dogphew, Spike. He is a six month old golden doodle who is already the size of a small polar bear and makes the best cuddle partner.

Maul me please.

In not so merry news, I recently lost my job so it was only fitting that my favorite gift was a coffee mug with a well known slogan from the movie Bridesmaids that has become my personal motto.

Striking resemblance, no?

But I’ve still got my sparkle with the help of my mini me.

Princess, Precious and Poor.

Here’s hoping your holiday weekend was filled with lots of jingling bells and cocktails!

Cheers!

CBXB

The Bitch….er, I Mean Bear is Back.

My pussy is baaaaaaaaaaack!

The bitch is back.
And no, I’m not talking about me.

A little over a month ago, Ted became sick in what felt like a matter of minutes – as one day he seemed happy, healthy and bitchy as ever but then suddenly lost almost half his body weight, wouldn’t eat and became lethargic (couldn’t even hold his head up to meow profanities at me).  Taking him to the vet, I had to leave him in the kitty ICU.

Yes, we asked that the bandage match his eyes.

And then the worrying at the mini manse began…

The Griswold twins were plagued with uneasiness over Bear’s absence.

Clark was so terrified he had to take a nap.

Precious thought she may never again get a bath, since Ted demands he be the one to clean her.

Destined to be a forever dirty dog?

Speaking of worry, I was about thisclose to being shoved in a straight jacket and taken to the nearest loony bin.

I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sit still. But thank god I could still drink.

Just your regular, every day shit show.

My nerves frayed more when every single test ran on Mr. Bear turned up with nothing to report and another was conducted with days to wait in between for results. But you folks came out in droves with your good wishes, karma, prayers and support.

Cutie of a well wisher.

My friend’s kid is obviously going to be the next Picasso.

With all of that love swirling around for TB, he mustered the strength to pull through a surgery, was granted a diagnosis (that’s treatable!) and after what felt like eons in the pet hospital, I wrapped him up and took him home.

Homeward bound.

Think somebody missed someone?

Seeing my typically plump pussy so lean, I did what any mother would do.

Fur and bones.

I put food in his face every time he turned around (and then tried to wrangle Presh away).

A double dose of duck and tuna.

His fave green peas always at the ready.

Malts make everything better.

Overflowing his martini glass with food.
EAT DAMMIT!

While thwarting off his furry roommates in order to get to his heaping amounts of food I shoved in his face, Tedstar’s presence was missed so much that he couldn’t get one moment to himself.

No peace on the porch.

Cuddles on the couch are so cute.

Except when the 24/7 cuddles aren’t welcomed.

After shipping everyone else out of the mini manse so Ted could get some r and r, he is now basking in the glow of being an only child again.

Alone in the nap bed.

Alone on the porch.

Alone on the couch.

Alone in the car.

And…

Alone with me at work.

Where I continuously maul him all day long…

…much to his dismay.

The bear is now demanding his fur bros and sister reappear before I kiss him to death.

Yes, I know I’m a crazy cat lady. And I don’t give a fuck.

The bitch is back!

CBXB

 

 

 

Weekends Winks – Parties, Pussies and Precious

Weekends are typically welcomed with opened paws at my mini manse but when it’s college football season, I wish the five working days would fly by faster than I can chug a Skinny Pirate.

We hate football.
Obviously.

Coming as zero shock to anyone who remotely knows me, I accidentally lost my goddamned mind while perusing the Halloween aisles of Target (my mothership) slightly inebriated after a Friday evening at Dalts.  Being a celebration queen, I’m thinking of charging admission (one bottle of Captain per person) into my mini manse during the month of October.

Hello. I have a problem and it’s called Halloween.

While I was busy with my spiked pumpkins, Prince B was prepping for a Hawkeye game against our in state rivals, the Iowa State Cyclones.

How could any team deny this face a W?

Princess B was more concerned with her fingernails than football.

Remind you of anyone?

Dada CBXB and I decided to go party with the Nashville Iowa Club downtown for the game watch and our decision proved to be a wise one.

Reserved for the two biggest Hawk fans in Tennessee.

This club didn’t know what was about to it them…

Joined by Camo and my gal pal Bird Lady, we enjoyed our traditional touchdown shot after every seven points was put on the scoreboard by our fellas in black and gold.

Shot one!

Shot two!

Somewhere in between three and four….

Watching the game with 170 of our closest Hawkeye friends was everything I wanted it to be and more – mostly due to the fact that the boisterous crowd cheered like our team had just won the Super Bowl – no matter if we’d just scored or just earned a first down.

Hawks win! Hawks win!

With a victorious 31-17 score and our bellies bloated with moonshine, the entire crowd joined in for a rendition of the “Hawkeye Victory Polka” (which probably gives you an idea why my liver is still thriving as my alma mater sings this song during games as frequently as our fight song).

In a more poignant moment, the Hawkeyes paid tribute to former player (and former New York Giant), Tyler Sash, who suddenly passed away last week at just 27 years old by wearing his number on their helmets.

RIP #9

Cuddling up on the couch seemed like the best Saturday night idea of all time until I realized that Precious the chug smelled like a sewage container.

Such a stank ass little pig pen, Ted couldn’t even face her.

So we remedied the problem much to her dismay.

Presh isn’t so sure about being so fresh and so clean clean.

Because Mr. Bear is still in recovery from his month long debacle with illness, Clark and Cousin Eddie are spending some quality time with Dada CBXB and love being the stars of his show.

Griswold twins hanging at Gpa’s pad.

The human twins didn’t want to just hang on Sunday because they were anxiously watching the construction of all things fun in their backyard…

I can’t wait to dominate play time on this bitch.

Seeing photos of swings made me dizzy on Sunday but that didn’t stop me from going on a hot brunch date…

…with my cat….

…on my couch…

….who proceeded to eat the other side of my sandwich.

Taking crazy to an entirely new level.

Judge away.

Shitter’s Full

So…it appears that naming my new twin fur babies after my favorite Griswold characters has come back to bite me in the ass.

Clark and Cousin Eddie buttering me up.

Upon bringing the twins home to my mini manse, I escorted them into the wing they’d be spending much time in – the Pussy Wing.  Within this section of my apartment, all things cat related happen in here. The litter box is behind the green couch, food stored behind the partition, window always available to perch, etc…

A mini manse in a mini manse.

As you may well know (and he most definitely knows), the king of my castle is Mr. Ted E. Bear. Not only does this feline rule my roost non-stop, he has a version of kitty Celiac disease and needs prescription food to get by in life. Which costs a mere $65 per bag and can last one cat two months (which makes me thrilled out of my blonde mind that I now get to feed three mouths premium feline food).

My main squeeze.

Turns out that Clark and Cousin Eddie were beyond thrilled tasting this fine concoction of green peas and duck – so much so they were sucking it down their throats without even chewing.

Classy dudes with the kitty cat caviar.

It also turns out that the Griswolds have touchy digestive systems and this fancy food didn’t bode well with them.

As in, gave them diarrhea.

The squirts.

The runs.

Did you know that when cats have the shits, they don’t use their pan?

Me either.

Facing a literal shit show.

Being that the shade of feces and my carpet matched perfectly, I was able to put my foot in a few piles before I realized what was happening (and I’m sure my neighbors thought I was being murdered due to my overreaction of being touched by liquid dookie).

Trying to remedy this situation before having to burn my mini manse down to get rid of the defecating smells, I put out puppy pads, thinking this would help my sanity.

Fort Diarrhea

Only when my little chug friend Precious saw the puppy pads, she thought she was being ‘good’ by using them.

So now everyone is shitting and pissing on the fucking puppy pads.

How could anyone be mad at this mug?

Thwarting further insult to injury, I tipped the green couch in the Pussy Wing up on end as Cousin Eddie is now sharting (a little piece of shit coming out with a fart) and there have been a few dribbles on the sofa.

Leaning tower of green.

I also lined the sides of the couch with foil because from what I have heard and read online, cats are terrified of the stuff.

Clearly.

Foiled by my feline.

I just had this feeling that no matter how hard I was trying, this shit show version of my life was going to last a bit longer…

And, as Ed molested my head (as he has done nightly since his arrival) last night, I kept thinking that he smelled insanely rank but let it go.

All about the snugs.

Until this morning.

When I woke up still smelling rank ass and found this on my chest from Eddie’s sleeping ass.

Greeting the day by being shit on.

MAKE IT STOP.

So I’m taking the little shits who can’t control their bowel movements to the vet tomorrow and hoping there’s a cure for all things digestive related in these little monsters.

Driving me to drink straight out of the boxed wine bag.

If I’d have known that naming my cats after Griswolds would result in an actual remake of certain scenes from Christmas Vacation, I might have reconsidered.

But until tomorrow the shitter shall remain full.

CBXB