Weekend Winks – The Buck Stops Here

You know those weekends that you think are going to be low key? Mine started out on Friday with a heavy pour of pinot noir and snuggle down with the fur balls.

Wine down Friday.

Saturday rolled around and I could hardly get out of the bed, even though it was an Iowa Hawkeye game day.

Caturday canoodling.

I mean, with lay outs like the one below, I decided to crawl back into the throne and frolic with the fur balls.

A king almost falling off a queen sized bed.

The Hawks were going to play a number three ranked Ohio State University (whom I loathe, have always loathed and will continue to loathe forever and ever amen. Maybe it’s because you’re supposed to say THE Ohio State University…maybe it’s because they seem to piss every major bowl game down their leg, maybe it’s their cockiness….you choose). Dada CBXB and I almost didn’t get together because my he was having his cable worked on and we weren’t sure it’d be done by the game. I also think we both figured that being the 20 point underdogs, it may be the most boring game of the Hawkeye season.

Cheerleading from bed.

A game against THE Ohio State University several years ago is the reason we started taking touch down shots (to keep the games more interesting for us Hawk fans when we scored maybe one touchdown per game).

Then this gem of a text rolled in from my sister. Who, may I note, lives about 25 fucking minutes from the University of Iowa and Kinnick Stadium where kick off takes place. EVERY. SINGLE. Saturday she asks:

A) Who the Hawks play

B) What time the game starts

I, in turn, always love asking her who the Tennessee Titans play. Her guess this time goes back to when our dad played for the Baltimore Colts (who are now located in Indianapolis for you non sports fans). She’s a huge football fan, obvies.

I got all game day gussied up and headed out to watch what was possibly going to be the worst ass beating in the history of our team. It’s not that I don’t have faith in my Hawkeyes – I do – however, it’s sometimes heartbreaking being a fan because when we’re bad we’re very, very bad and when we’re good we rock.

On my way!

The game started and as I was saying, “Jeez it’s really lou-…” the Hawks got a pick six and scored for a touch down eight seconds into the game.

“At least we lead once this game,” said Dada CBXB.

Then, something miraculous happened and Iowa scored again.

Surprisingly a second shot as Dada said, “Well, at least we lead some of the game.”

Shot three game and we were silly with excitement.

NO ONE thought we’d have four touchdowns on THE Ohio State University during the first half (let alone the entire game).

Colin Cowherd, a sports media personality with his own pod cast hates the Hawkeyes with a passion. Even when Iowa had a perfect 12-0 season two years ago, he found holes to poke. Well, he taunted with a Tweet during halftime….

….SUCK IT Colin, ’cause the Hawkeyes kept on steam rolling. Cowherd really does owe everyone at the Deadwood bar in Iowa City a PBR.

We were ultra prepared for an OSU comeback in the second half but instead, the Hawkeyes kept on trucking and gave our livers a run for their money.

Shot fucking 5?!

Holy SIXTH!

Our reputation precedes us, as even our loyal Facebook touchdown shot counters noticed we had posted nothing during the entire game, as we typically document each shot taken.

HEY-OH we posted the last shot taken of the game!

THE BUCK STOPS HERE at shot seven.

With a final score of 55-24, all of the Iowa fans rushed the field…

…as did yours truly, only virtually.

I mean, how could I miss out on a moment like this – that will most likely never happen again?

Victory shot for good measure, along with how the rest of the night felt.

Even the Internet took notice over the ass beating we handed THE Ohio State University.

Being that I thought I would be sober Sally upon the completion of the game, I didn’t pack a bag to stay at dad’s….but I who am I kidding? I wouldn’t have changed out of my Hawkeye gear anyhow. I may or may not still be in my game day clothes and I may or may not change out of them until we lose again.

Not ashamed of this walk of shame.

Here’s hoping you’re having a week as high as I’m feeling. My head is still in the clouds because the buck stopped here.

CBXB

 

The Underdog

It’s no secret that I’ve had a rough go in my personal life the last few years. Of course, no one has perfection and bad shit happens to everyone, however, I’ve been numbed to the point that I don’t expect the worst but am surprised by nothing. Nothing.

Martians falling from the sky? We believe you.

It’s also no secret that I love college football – especially my alma mater, the Iowa Hawkeyes.

Fans #1 and #2.

The last day that I can truly say I was ‘in the moment’ was December 5, 2015. I got to experience the first Big Ten Championship with my dad, The Silent Indian (who cheered for the wrong team) and Camo with my Iowa Hawkeyes taking on Sparty of Michigan State.

Big four at the Big Ten game.

It was one of the best days of my life even though Sparty won in the literal last second of the game.

All the after morning feels.

Four days upon returning home from that game, I was pushed out of a career that I’d worked my ass off to obtain in the music business. Eleven days after that, I experienced the worst Christmas of my life – a day I cherish (almost as much as my birthday) due to family dynamics shifting and my unwillingness to accept it. Less than one month later, a woman who was like a little sister to me died in a car accident. That evening, I went to my best friend’s house and was raped by her boyfriend.

That period of time was as beautiful as I look in this photo.

The day I was at the hospital awaiting my rape kit to be performed, I was asked if I’d like an advocate to come sit with me. I didn’t know if I did or didn’t because as my bare ass was hanging out of the back of a hospital gown, I was in a state of shock. An advocate was called on my behalf. Aside from her beyond sweet demeanor, her name being Barbie (I mean, c’mon!), her fabulous Louis Vuitton purse (obvies the right advocate for me), she said something that still rings true to this day.

“There will be a before rape in your life. And there will be an after rape.” A before and after. Seems like a simple enough concept but I did not comprehend then how fucking true this would be in my daily life moving forward.

The Before: last selfie I took before Rapegate.

The After: first selfie taken after Rapegate.

It’s now been 616 days since the saga of Rapegate began. At first it was all-consuming, eating me up – a worm in my brain, invading every moment of my sleep, thoughts, feelings – I had no idea that I might as well have been standing at the bottom of Mount Everest, readying to climb 29,029 feet with zero conditioning. Because that’s what this last year and over a half has dealt…an excruciatingly slow climb out of (or rather up) the lowest of extreme lows, seeking the summit of a mountain top that appeared further and further away by the day.

What happens when I hike.

Thing is, life goes on all around even though time stands still for victims of any sort of trauma. For me, I was stuck on January 29, 2016 but I still had a job to find, bills to pay, fur ball mouths to feed and personal hygiene to maintain (this took much insisting from Mrs. America and my sister). I just wanted to wallow on my leopard couch and have it swallow me whole but of course that didn’t fucking happen.

Not so fresh and so clean clean.

With the support and love from my family, friends, and readers of this blog (my sparkly army), I was encouraged to put one (semi-clean) foot in front of the other and got into counseling. I tirelessly acted as my own advocate with a less than helpful (and that description is extremely nice) detective, found a job, kept my lights on, was diagnosed with PTSD, adjustment disorder and severe stress and stumbled forward.

I don’t wanna but I’m gonna!

Through what felt like a continuous avalanche in my life, I put on the happiest face possible and plowed forward. Although, everything had less meaning, was less fun, was just not right. I went to my fave watering hole Dalts, invited girlfriends over, tried to read books but couldn’t remember the page I just read, watched TV only to forget what the episode was about as my mind couldn’t stay focused, stopped going to yoga and jogging due to not being able to be alone with my thoughts – because the aftermath of Rapegate was never far.

SAY WHAT?

Trying to trudge through life, every step felt like I was moving through snow waist deep. Yet again, life stops for no one. Aunt Crazy Pants was diagnosed with terminal cancer almost six months to the day after I was raped. She passed just a little over a month ago, ten days after I suddenly lost the fur ball love of my life, Ted. The searing losses felt like a hot iron had been stabbed into my chest. I’d never experienced the throes of despair (navigating my way out of Rapegate), alongside devastating, life altering grief (losing those we deeply love) at the same time.

There’s not enough wine for this.

While I was home for ACP’s celebration of life, I had an opportunity to go tailgating with my Uncle Toddy, Aunt Crispie, my cousins and their many friends at the in state rivalry of Iowa versus Iowa State. It was a thrillingly unexpected day jam-packed with tailgating shenanigans.

The fun of family…

Mama CBXB, Uncle Toddy and Aunt Crispie host tailgating done right.

Friendly family rivalry.

OR WAS IT?!

The fun of the endless booze all around…

I hate tailgating.

The classiness of passing time while waiting to use the port-a-potties…

Shotski for three please.

The catching up with old friends…

Game ready.

Having to ask your uncle if there’s anyone he’s friends with in his season ticket section just in case I embarrass him with my loudness…

A beauty and a sparkly beast.

Embarrassing my youngest cousin with all the right moves…

Cousin love is acceptable below the Mason Dixon line.

Seeing a live marching band was fulfilled for the season…

March on.

Up close and personal for the live action overtime win didn’t suck!

End zone win baby!

Afterward, I realized how much fucking fun I truly had that day. I lived in the moment for the first time in almost two years – at yet another football game. I didn’t think about anything other than what I was partaking in every. single. second. The bands marching through the tailgates. The booze. The Hawkeye buses arriving. The booze. The food. The booze. The rivalry. The family and friends I was enjoying the fuck out of spending time with. The game I got to watch from the end zone and the exciting win by the Hawks in overtime.

Some cousins took it well.

Others were sore losers.

Point is, for a brief day I got a taste of what it will be like when I transfer from survivor to thriver. I felt normal. I felt the fun I was experiencing. I felt like pre-rape me for once in almost two years. And it was fucking fantastic, freeing and I caught a glimpse of my old self starting to shine through the cracks I still carry.

Fist forward.

The Hawkeyes are almost always considered the underdogs. And it’s not lost on me that both the last and first time I realized I was living in the moment were at football games, watching my favorite team with some of my favorite people.

It was a much needed reminder that I’m doing the best that I can every goddamn day. Aren’t we all?

Happy tailgating!

CBXB

Weekend Winks – Drunken Family Rivalries

Oh what to do when your fave college team is playing their in state rivals (and cousin’s fave team)? Iowa Hawkeye fans get their asses on the road from Nashville to Atlanta for a little family rivalry fun, viewing the game together.

Suck it State.

Suck it Iowa State.

Of course I can’t hardly live without my main feline squeeze, Ted so I packed him into the caravan (possibly against his wishes).

Naturally I also packed my my main feline squeeze into the caravan.

Pussy packed and not ready!

Although Mr. Bear’s traveling spirits perked right up when Gpa offered up some of his cheeseburger.

Cheeseburger in paradise.

Cheeseburger in paradise.

Cold cocktails awaited our arrival in Atlanta much to our delight.

Double the Skinny Pirates.

Double the Skinny Pirates.

The real reason I brought Tedstar to Atlanta was to babysit my cousin’s adorable duo while the adults ventured to the Atlanta Iowa Hawkeye Club for the football viewing party.

Trio

Adventures in babysitting.

The sweet, southern belle gathering was about to get loud as our transplanted northern selves took over the viewing space at Mazzy’s Sports Bar in Roswell.

You should have seen my toe touches.

You should have seen my toe touches.

I have to give props to my cousin Tballs who was the lone Iowa State fan in the Hawkeye bar.

The lone Iowa State fan at the Hawkeye bar. CyCLONER

CycLONER

Keeping up with our classy, traditional Hawkeye touchdown shots, we started early in the first quarter. Even Tballs the Cyclone was a good sport at first.

TD #1!

TD #1!

TD #2 left us Hawk fans happy.

TD #2 left us Hawk fans happy.

TD #3 required some muscle.

TD #3 required some muscle.

The fourth and fifth shots went a little like…

What the who?

What the who?

But the sixth shot went down like a charm…as us Hawk fans had to use two hands compared to the big 0 for the Cyclones.

But the sixth went down like a charm.

Winning doesn’t suck.

With a winning score of 42-3, we needed to take a victory pic, of course.

Winners photo!

Sleeping beauties and their beast.

Photo op 3,412 turned out alright!

Photo op 3,412 turned out with all eyes open!

On Sunday, my Iowa twins were picking apples in the orchard while the football fans were trying to revive our livers with anything other than a shot of alcohol.

Apple pickers.

Apple pickers.

Thankfully, the livers responded well to our choice of water (and a little hair of the dog) and we were all back in the saddle again – ready for next week’s tailgate!

If you visit my blog frequently, you know I’m banana pants over animals of all kinds. Most of you I know virtually and in daily life, love their fur babies like true human spawn. So when something indescribably inhumane happens to one of pal’s animals, I can’t help but have a hurt heart.

Please keep my friend Bex and her family in your loving thoughts, sending them some good juju as their beloved Fred was hit by a car on Friday – and the driver kept going, seeing that it hit a dog. Heartbreakingly, Fred didn’t survive his injuries and is no doubt leaving a void in their home.

Accidents happen but motherfuckers who leave the scene they created have a special place waiting for them in hell.

We also need some fabulous karma thrown in my Aunt Crazy Pants’ way. She’s fighting her way through cancer like Rocky Balboa but sometimes we need a water break and pep talk.

img_3311

So here’s to kicking cancer’s ass!

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

In Heaven There is No Beer…

It’s the most wonderful time of the year (aside from my birthday, Ted’s birthday, Christmas and the Iowa State Fair)!

IMG_7503

The white trash classiness that is my life continues as another season of college football kicks off this weekend!

My dad and I started a tradition a few years ago to celebrate every touchdown that our favorite college football team, the Iowa Hawkeyes, scored with a shot of moonshine (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).

First shot of the season.

First shot of the season feels so good!

Our freezer stash of Popcorn Sutton’s Tennessee White Whiskey is prepped and ready to go for the season opener.

Iced

Chic shenanigans await.

Problem is this year, Dada CBXB is heading up to see my fave duo on the planet as I type, so we’ll have to resort to our trashtacular tradition via Facetime, which we’ve already mastered in years past.

Miles schmiles.

Miles schmiles.

Being that the Hawks were 12-0 in the regular season last year, we hope our liver tolerance remains in tact for alcohol that makes chest hair grow whether you like it or not. While we’ll be celebrating apart, we have everything we need to round out the first college game day.

Double fisting at its finest.

Double fisting at its finest.

W-I-N.

Who’s with us?

CBXB

CBXB!

Trashtacular Family Tradition

The white trash classiness that is my life continues as another season of college football kicked off last week.

My dad and I started a tradition a few years ago to celebrate every touchdown that our favorite college football team, the Iowa Hawkeyes, scored with a shot of moonshine (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).

First shot of the season.

First shot of the season feels so good!

Naturally, you can’t do shots of moonshine without something to coat the belly first, so we had our finest tailgating treats out before the 11am kickoff.

Finger lickin' good.

Yes, that’s my blogfamous Shit Dip and you should really try it this weekend.

Our freezer stash of Popcorn Sutton’s Tennessee White Whiskey was prepped and ready to go for the season opener.

Iced

Chic shenanigans await.

Much to our delight, Iowa scored on the opening drive of the game, which meant moonshine was downed at precisely 11:11am on a Saturday morning.

Touchdown Iowa!

Touchdown Iowa!

The second Hawkeyes score of the game came just before noon and we decided it best to flaunt which shot we were on with our digits.

Double the fun!

Double the fun!

In the third quarter, Iowa snuck in another touchdown making the score 24-0, which didn’t disappoint us – although it did make trying to do a selfie with three fingers in the air a tad difficult – but somehow we pulled through.

Triple threat.

Triple threat.

While Iowa let our opponents score twice, we answered with a fourth touchdown, making the final score 31-14.

Waaay funner by the fourth.

Waaay funner by the fourth.

You’d think it was lights out after a four moonshine shot victory but over the last few football seasons we’ve gained quite the tolerance for alcohol that makes chest hair grow whether you like it or not. So, thankfully we had plenty more of everything needed to round out the first college game day.

Double fisting at its finest.

Double fisting at its finest.

And the countdown for next week is on.

Who’s with us?

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!

 

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!