First Round Draft Pick

The NFL Draft has arrived in Nashville and everyone is losing their goddamn minds.

Now, not everyone is losing their minds because they love the sport of America football or the NFL or just the hype of a fucking gigantic event being hosted in downtown Music City. Nashvillians are losing their goddamn minds over the influx of traffic, the take over of production companies downtown (causing you to watch every step you take due to massive cords), road closures everywhere, the cutting down of trees for draft stages, tourists in general, NFL draft tourists – need I say more?

I lose my fucking mind over this guy, T-Rac, every time.

On top of the NFL Draft commencing today, the Country Music Marathon is this weekend which in and of itself always draws tens of thousands more to the downtown area. All said, it’s projected that 300,000+ peeps will be overtaking my city. The past few weeks I declared no one could beg me to go near the downtown radius the entire week all of these shenanigans are taking place (unless, of course they had a front row seat to the first round of the draft).

Oh, hi! Who me? Miss out on fun? Never.

The preparation for this major event has included Nashville’s Hard Rock Cafe taking their iconic guitar sign down (you know, gets in the way of a good TV shot), entire bars are being rented by the NFL organization, and temporary rooftop viewing areas are being put on top of restaurants – it’s fucking bananas.

Missing: One massive neon guitar sign.

Years, months, weeks, days and now the final hours until the culmination of the NFL Draft 2019 begin to unfold.

Staging of the stage.

Side stage complete.

Naturally being the football fan I am, I certainly thought I was going to attend the draft when I heard it was going to be in Nashville and –  key word – free. Also, two Hawkeye tight ends are slated to be picked during the first round, Noah Fant and T.J. Hockensen. They will attempt to make 2019 the third Iowa draft class to ever feature more than one first-rounder, after the classes of 1997 and 1986. Would I Iove to take Dada CBXB (he was drafted by the Colts when they were in Baltimore after his college career, FYI) and see that happen in person? You bet your ass I would.

From a Red Raider to a Colt.

However, there is a lottery to get into the viewing area of the draft stage. Yes, there are mega huge TVs all over the city streets but in lieu of standing with other fans asses to elbows, I can sit ass to elbow with any and all members of The Pussy Posse. And, I don’t have to worry about standing en masse to get into one of these germy portable toilets that will surely run out of toilet paper within the first minutes of the event commencing.

Talk about crazy town.

When my gal pal Energizer Bunny asked if I wanted to go with her bestie Dance Pants for a last minute trip downtown, I had to think about it for .0000000000002 seconds (hypocrite at my finest).

EB: “Want to go-“
Me: “–YAS!”

Entrance to the NFL Draft experience on Broadway.

The aforementioned bars being converted into additional TV spots was equally impressive. Tootsies World Famous Orchid Lounge grew about 50 extra feet, which will be a secondary broadcast location for the event.

Finishing touches.

Stages here.

Stages there.

Stages everywhere.

Typically the downtown Nashville shopping scene is full of nothing but honky tonk trinkets. But every single store we passed had NFL team merchandise displays and every bar we passed had an NFL Draft 2019 neon light in its window.

No team left out.

Let’s not forget the people watching….

Bang This x 2.

People watch we did.

At one point as women who were wearing shorts shorter than bikini bottoms galloped by our bar window, Dance Pants said, “those gals are going to get a bad infection.” I immediately vowed to never sit on a bar stool without first wiping it down with an antibiotic wipe.

Regardless of whether you are watching the NFL Draft 2019 near, far or not at all, Nashville is definitely where it’s at this weekend.

The Bat Building is always a beaut.

Happy to have the projected 342,700 of you visit Music City this weekend. Just don’t forget to be one of the 30,000 departing people from the airport on Sunday or Monday.

Also, for those of you in motor vehicles, please kindly leave early (or late) enough so I can make it to work on time this upcoming Monday.

Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Because if you decide to stay, I will punt your ass out.




Weekend Winks – Surprises, Six Degrees and Slaying

This shade of black really brings out the color of my soul.

God I love a t-shirt that speaks for me.

Open for fun.

My aunt flew in to surprise my dad for a mini retirement celebration. It was pretty fucking fabulous.

The par-tay train headed downtown to honky tonk on Broadway.

The Bat Building never gets old.

Robert’s Western World never gets old.

Arriving late after gussying up, as soon as my ass hit the bar stool in Robert’s, I got a message from an old school friend asking if I happened to be around. Seeing as Music City has 100 fucking people moving to the city (please for the love of god, STOP MOVING HERE. Come visit, spend some cash and get the fuck out) Nashvillians going downtown is about as rare as a man being falsely accused of rape. So like, 99.9% never.

Downtown used to be a fun hang every so often but now, it’s asses to elbows everywhere. So it was Kismet that I happened to be in a bar right across the street from my old buddy, who still resides in Iowa. He was visiting for work and just thought he’d reach out. As kids, our families would camp (yes, I actually camped (ew) before I knew glamping was a thing) and one of our fave activities was going around Wilson’s Lake and collecting pop cans that we’d turn in for a refund at Cheese’s grocery store. Redeeming five cents per can, I thought we were going to be thousandaires as we packed garbage after garbage bag full of aluminum. I think we each ended up with about $50. Still not bad for 10 year olds.

Six degrees of CBXB.

When I went to meet up with his crew, I didn’t know anyone else at the table. But within the 30 minutes I chit chatted, I somehow had a connection to or through or knew someone they knew at the table. My friend came across the street to say hey to Dada CBXB who, prior to his move to Nashville (and retirement), was a teacher and coach of some sort for over 30 years.

Old school.

Naturally we did what all teachers and coaches do when they reunite with former students.


I mean, you know I have an ever classy fam.

Blurred lines.

Saturday came early for my Iowa twins, who were frying up a donut storm.

Then they decided to create costumes since the weather was kinda shitty.

If you guessed bats, you’d be right.

Inspired by my mini bakers, my lazy ass decided to get out a new pancake mix I picked up. Mostly because it was gluten free but really because all it takes is 2/3 cup of the mix and 3/4 cup of water.


My Iowa Hawkeyes had a 2:30 kick off, so I sauntered out to Dada CBXB’s and watched my dudes school the Minnesota Golden Gophers. The Hawks won 48-31. You know what that meant….six rounds of our classy Family Tradition.

I’m not good at math but I couldn’t fit six pics into my cute photo collage.

It also meant that the Floyd of Rosedale rivalry trophy will reside another year with my favorite birds.

The pig stays in the Hawkeye State.

After the welcomed distraction of a win, it remained consistently hard to escape the painful thoughts that have been swirling around my noggin for the last three weeks, as America’s attitude toward rape culture continues to shock the ever living hell out of me.

It’s sad. It’s so sad. So much so that I’ve turned to eating my pain away. Which isn’t working for my brain as much as it is my already ample ass.

I’ll have five pounds of wings, please. No, really, we had five pounds of wings. And Shit Dip that was already inhaled when this photo was snapped. And like one celery stick.

We welcomed Sunday by washing Saturday away with margaritas at our fave Mexican joint.

Tasty treats.

Accompanied by what felt like 482 lbs of food after I scarfed my feelings food down.

Another side of salsa, please.

Of course no self care Sunday would be complete without my personal bible, People magazine, and a dip in bubbles.

To those of you weary to the motherfucking bone after the past few weeks, know that it’s OK to feel that way. To those of you who are confused after the past few weeks, know that it’s OK to feel that way. To those of you who feel hopeless after the past few weeks, that’s not OK.

You matter.

The next generation matters.

K. Thanks. Bye.



Weekend Winks – I’m Baaaaaack!

Did you miss me while I was on a CBXB extended blogging vacay? Well, I sure as shit missed you!

Plunging right back into the classy party style life I lead was beyond easy this weekend with a visit from my bestie Scooby and his husband, Mr. Scooby.

My hair soulmate is all the way to the left...

Keeping it real. Real classy in Nashville.

See, Mr. Scooby and his friend Royal came to run the Country Music Half Marathon over the weekend.


Half of our group ran.

Half of our group got drunk while waiting for the runners.

Half of our group got drunk in the car while waiting for the runners.

When Scooby and I decided to take our party to the finish line, we were so busy taking selfies we failed to see either of our runners cross the finish line.

Too busy

But damn we looked good!

Once we found our competitors, I immediately forced Mr. Scooby to take off his shirt. You know, to help him cool off.

Shirt off for rest of weekend. THank you.

I hated walking around with him.

Although my two gorgeous gays ran their asses off, I was able to sneak into their spotlight.

Just a little photo bomb.

And they thought this day was about them.

While I was very busy trying to photo bomb every single picture the rest of the afternoon, my Iowa twins were accomplishing amazing feats of their own.

Who doesn't sit on the toilet in the kitchen?

Who doesn’t sit on the toilet in the kitchen?

Best place to read, obviously.

Best place to read, obviously.

There was a handsome potty training reward of Princess B’s all time favorite food/snack/meal/nourishment.


Will potty for salsa.

Will potty for salsa.

A half marathon completion calls for drinking. Especially for those of us who had to stand and cheer in between gulps of champagne.

Carry on.

Celebratory cocktails!

And what kind of party would this be if we didn’t keep on drinking right until brunch the following day?


Still going strong.

Partying with Reba

A Royal, a Reba and rare sober moment for CBXB.

My sobriety didn’t last long, as it was two for one mimosas and this is was the last round looked like at brunch…


We were really thirsty.

Upon finding ourselves out of libations, I forced Scooby to drink something that we hadn’t touched all weekend.

Water is so disgusting.

Water is so disgusting.

Who wants to go home after a morning full of cocktailing?

Not this crew. So we headed to my fave honky tonk to carry on the celebratory shenanigans.

Fave honky otnk

We don’t want the party to end.

Day drinking that turns into night drinking makes everyone feel sexy.

Especially when putting sunglasses on.

In a bar.

When it’s dark outside.

Sunglasses at night are so sexy. In 1981.

Sunglasses at night are so sexy. If it was 1981.

400 drinks in, we started with the photo shoots.

Model purrfect.

Perfect tipsy models.

And made strangers with wild hair become a part of our party.

My hair soulmate is all the way to the left...

Still sexy and we know it.

432 cocktails in, I became we became expert two steppers.

Dancing with someone who thinks she's a star.

Royal was forced to dance with someone who thinks she’s a star.

Upon giving him two very bruised feet, Royal took longer to recover from dancing with my graceless ass than he did his half marathon.


Straight women are exhausting.

And after the heartbreaking goodbye to my fave gays, this happened the rest of the weekend…

Couch? Check.

Pussy on shoulder? Check.

Sunglasses on until 11pm? Check.


Just keepin’ it real.

Here’s hoping your week is off to a semi-sober start.





Weekend Winks – WTF Happened?!

It was a long Nashville weekend full of celebrating Halloween and football victories, which lead to my demise.

Seriously. What the fuck?

Seriously. How a weekend full of fun feels come Sunday.

It all started out on Halloween with a some gussied up gals at work.

A pizza, a ghoul and bat girl.

The sweetest slice of pizza ever, an ass clown of a ghoul and Bat Girl.

My Iowa twins were happily acting like their favorite animals on the planet.

Busy cat and dog.

Princess Kit Kat and Prince Bow Wow.

Instead of roaming the streets in packed bars downtown, I bellied up at my fave watering hole, Dalts for my All Hallows’ Eve treats.

Treats instead of tricks for me.

Skinny Pirates instead of tricks for me.

Turns out I needed a nose job in order to properly guzzle my glass of rum.

Cocktail fail.

Cocktail fail.

After I performed emergency surgery on my schnoz, everything was right in the world.

Nose job completed.

Nose job completed.

I avoided over consumption of my beloved rum, as there was some tailgating to tackle Saturday morning.


Typical treats.

Thing is, this Saturday our Iowa Hawkeyes decided to show up and play ball. In a major way. And we bravely carried on our family tradition of a moonshine shot for every touchdown the Hawks scored.

Problem was, we were victorious with a score of 48-7.

Shot one...

Shot one…

Shot two, three and four...

Shots two, three and four and five…

Happy with the fifth...

Happy with the sixth…

Lead us to doing toe touches like the Golden Girls.

And doing toe touches Golden Girls style for a victory “dance”.

Happy with warm bellies and less brain cells, Mom and I thought it’d be a good idea to go honky tonkin’ downtown to cap off our Saturday.

The we think we're smart but not so smart ladies.

Never wanting the party to end. Ever.

But the fun came to a screeching halt the following morning.

Seriously. What the fuck?

Seriously. What the fuck?

Combining moonshine shots, toe touches, vodka and spinning around a dance floor like a contestant on Dancing With the Stars made it impossible to feel human before noon.

No energy to thwart suicide attempts by New Cat.

Not even enough energy to thwart suicide attempts by New Cat. (He lived)

But I had the best couch date ever who snoozed by my side from dawn ’til dusk.

Even Ted was party pooped.

Party pooped pussy.

Even though my self-inflicted pain, all of the shenanigans were worth it…

I think.



Weekend Winks – Cougar Style

A little honky tonkin’, hockey and hootenanny in Nashville this weekend….

After a few happy hour Skinny Pirates, I headed to the hockey game – and you know that meant a little bathroom bartending…

Don't tell I'm up to no good.

Thank God alcohol kills germs, right? Right?!

My Nashville Predators beat the Edmonton Oilers 6-0. Yeehaw!


Welcome to Smashville!

Saturday greeted me with a package from my blogging gal pal, Nicola from Nail Art For Funn.  She sent so many goodies from Korea, I can hardly wait to try all of the fun on my weekly Sunday night nail nights!

While out and about with visiting family, I came across an ancient artifact – my uncle’s phone.

Ancient history

Yes, it still works.

Saturday evening led to family fun night at my favorite Nashville honky tonk, Robert’s Western World.  I re-created my Hardee’s modeling bit (click here to read about my first time) while eating the oh-so-delicious burger…

Hardee's burger model, take 2.

Hardee’s burger model, take 2.

I ran into (OK, minorly stalked if I’m being honest here) the fastest playing fiddler in all of Tennessee, Joshua Hedley.

My favorite fiddle player

Cowboy Josh and a crazy fan.

And what to my wondering ears did appear but a 17-year-old guitar player full of good cheer.


This kid rocks.

While I don’t typically pine for guys younger than yours truly, I couldn’t help but swoon over this kick ass pickin’ kid, promptly turning into a cougar.


On the prowl – look out!

All of the Saturday night shenanigans led to a Sunday morning full of sunglasses and snuggling.


Yes. I needed the shades that badly.

Upon recovery, I headed back downtown with my family to see downtown Nashville in the daylight, where I set my sights on the most wonderful thing imaginable…a bar on wheels.  All you have to do is pedal while drinking to cruise the streets (I of course would need to sit on someone’s lap while they pedaled for me – I’m a high heel (and obviously high maintenance) wearin’ boozer).

Drink and pedal.

Drinking + pedaling = no cocktail calories counted.

A little BBQ action at Rippy’s for my endlessly starving 14-year-old cousin, C-dawg. Seriously, this kid talks about food as much as I rant and rave about Ted.


Feed me….again!

And remember me as a spitting image of Elvis?  I so badly wanted to keep the costume in order to continually prance around as The King but the upkeep of a white jumpsuit would be a nightmare.

As Elvis

Hunka hunka burnin’ …. love?

But I found the next best thing at a shop downtown –


PJs perfect for prancing around!

Guess what you’ll be seeing on this blog in the near future?



The Accidental Drunk

You know how you intend to have one after work cocktail and then all hell breaks loose? Yeah, me too.

Last night I met up with pals I haven’t seen in a long time … and one drink turned into three, which led to bourbon and late night honky tonkin’, resulting in a groggy Thursday morning.

It all started at a fancy restaurant where I decided to go out on a limb and deviate from my typical Skinny Pirate, vodka and wine.  I chose the “Keith It Simple” cocktail which included Corsair Absinthe, Old Forrester 100 Proof, house infused with vanilla bean, fresh lemon…there was nothing simple about this concoction.

the instigator

Big Mistake.

My choice in liquor for the evening led to an impromptu photo shoot outside the bathroom.

leading to the mauling of a pin up

Mauling of a pin-up.

And because I typically stick to dive bars, I was ultra impressed with the actual bathroom and started snapping photos in front of other customers (class act, right here).

Casablanca on the wall

Movies on the wall? I want to move in!

How does this work?

Blonde moment 341…how will this flat sink not get water all over my dry jeans?

After making an ass out of myself (and deciding the joint was too pricy for our food tastes), we decided to head to my favorite honky-tonk – Robert’s Western World.


Why would you pay $40 for an elegant steak when you can get a complete meal at Robert’s for $5!?

A fun tidbit from a bumper sticker – somehow Nashvillians can make bashful and Nashville rhyme.

Somehow Nashvillians can make Bashful and Nashville rhyme...

Making Nashville sound like it’s spelled Nashful. Now that’s talent!

Our versions of ‘gourmet’… late night burgers and fried bologna sandwiches, accompanied by the always kick ass Don Kelley Band (who granted my request and played one of my all time favorite songs, which of course required me to get up and dance…alone on the dance floor…constantly finding ways to make an ass of myself).


Mouth party!

After my personal Dancing With the Stars premiere, a dude at the table next to me watched me eat my cheese burger like a creeper – probably because I was shoveling the burger into my mouth like this –


Can’t I eat any faster?

But then he paid me with what I thought was the best compliment ever – “you eating that there burger reminds me of the models on the Hardee’s or Carl’s Jr. commercials.” Who me? A MODEL!!

And then realizing I looked like an eating train wreck, he must have meant I look like the male burger models with mayo running down their chinny chin chins. Just trying to keep it classy, folks!


Burger modeling in my future? Yes please!

All of these shenanigans had me reaching for my jar of much-needed Vegemite (the Australian hangover cure) this morning. And when I wondered aloud if readers were going to start trying to “sponsor” me due the constant advertising of my bad habits, a friend (a true one) said, “Alcoholics go to meetings. Drunks go to parties.”

Crisis averted.