Weekend Wink – The Luckiest Girl

It’s that time of year that green is all around us in Nashville as a welcomed sight. The grass, the leaves and this past weekend, the hue of celebrating the patron saint of Ireland, Patrick.

I met up with one of my former band mates, Keys, and we had a fun catch up lunch at my fave watering hole, Dalts.

Old friends make me a lucky gal.

Friends of yesteryear also keep me company with kind words and support he’s always throwing behind me.

I had a guest coming over for supper (oh, we will get into this supper vs. dinner debate at a later date) Friday evening and I hadn’t made my Lazy Lasagna (or anything that didn’t simply require a microwave heat up) in…well, I can’t remember when. Naturally, I acted like I was concocting an eight course meal, when really I was just layering ingredients.

Slaving away for supper.

Lucky for me, it turned out in my favor.

Once the lasagna was baked and in my belly, I promptly took a 16 hour nap, gearing up for the weekend festivities.

Pot of gold kickers.

In celebration of the season, I’d gussied up my pink tinsel Christmas Celebration tree and sat to enjoy my Saturday spiked coffee in front of it.

Lucky tree.

Perk Me Up.

Meeting up with friends for the celebration of Irish culture did not make for a dull time.

Lucky ladies.

I’m gonna need these hearts in pink for daily use.

We saw nothing but green until we started to consume cocktails of the day’s hue.

The Queen of green Jell-O shots…

.. might have had me seeing black and white.

While I was busy with Shamrock Shenanigans, my Iowa twins were road tripping down South.

Lucky they’re on their way to see me!

My neck aches for them.

It’s hard to remember just how little these two nuggets were a mere three years ago.

Time flies with twinning fun.

Three years later and still the cutest two shits I know.

Speaking of shits, I’m lucky to know the most fun one in all of Iowa City. My buddy N8 never misses a chance to morph into the best leprechaun every year.

Lucky leaning tower of green.

On Sunday, the actual day of Saint Patrick, I met up with First Mate for a gulp of our favorite boxed rosé. Although we didn’t get the green dye for to properly mark the occasion, we made do.

Pink and green are the perfect pairing.

It was so fabulous outside, we couldn’t resist a patio where Van Waffle asked me to take his picture. The fucking nerve.

My thoughts on being the photographer vs. the model.

All in all, the weekend of sunny skies, fabulous company and fun made me feel like the luckiest girl. Although, what makes my world go round always takes my lucky cake…

Lucky fur mama.

Here’s hoping a little luck comes your way this week.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Goodbye to Gma the Great

I’ve never been one to take my family or time with them for granted, so it was real bummer when my Gma passed away a few weeks ago. Not only was she one of my best buddies, I know I inherited her brutal honesty, ornery streak and love of having my fingernails polished.

An ode to my Gma, HJ who recently passed away…

Gma

Always one to laugh at surprises…

Image

…you took to my photobombing like it was one of your most treasured prizes.

Photo Bomb!

You never let anyone forget…

PastedGraphic-1

…when it was time to celebrate you bigger than the national debt.

IMG_4861

I learned from the best…

Image 16

…how to celebrate my life full of zest.

IMG_2618

Now seriously Gma, you taught me to party harder than Mae West.

photo 1

A love of leopard you instilled….

IMG_4900

…which is now being passed down to the next generation, who’s thrilled.

IMG_1349

It’s so fun you two met at a skating rink…

IMG_4888

…even if after 44 years you still had to steal kisses quicker than an eye blink.

IMG_4873

Although I took after Gpa avoiding kisses, rather craving a hard drink…

photo 5

…you always insisted on showing your love, making sure everyone was in sync.

IMG_3760

Beauty sleep and a hairnet was apparently all that you needed…

IMG_4858

…but truly it was your hair ‘dos that always succeeded.

IMG_4893

So it was with glasses and confidence that I superseded…

photo 3

…the grace and confidence that you always heeded.

IMG_4892

I wish I would have felt more impeded.

photo 1

The Iowa State Fair you never did love,

probably because you couldn’t wear foot gloves.

Image 12

It will never be the same, not bringing you a corn dog…

Image 42

…and discussing how I ate my way through the fair like a prize-winning hog.

Image 145

Circled blacked out dates always meant you had a companion…

IMG_4875

…you always loved attention bigger than the Grand Canyon.

IMG_4898

Attending every homemade Christmas pageant we made…

Image 55

…and most likely secretly prayed…

PastedGraphic-3

…that I would never end up a lonely old maid.

photo 1

The first to pass of five sisters, who lived out their misters,

Image 19

…you loved being pampered more than a fever blister.

IMG_5709

Your nails were painted the day before you passed…

IMG_4724

…and Jell-O shots without you will seem so miscast.

Image 1

Regardless of view near or afar, life will never be the same…

IMG_4547

…without you as my shining rock star.

I love you Gma.

Megan

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Shamrocks ‘n’ Smiles

The Nashville weekend shenanigans contained a little St. Patty’s Day pre-parting and I was thrilled to partake in the events.

Who's with me?

Who’s with me?

My twins in Iowa were more than a tad excited not only for the upcoming hunt of leprechauns and gold but also to eat chicken for lunch (it’s the little things, isn’t it?) on Saturday.

These two are down for some shamrock celebrating.

My face at every meal.

Elation over poultry, a new playhouse and the making of their first ever mud pies kinda made me wish I was up in Iowa with my favorite twosome. But then they’d have wanted me to help with the pies of dirt and you know, my nails are “jewels, not tools,” so it’s better I viewed from afar.

Mud pies

Finger lickin’ fun.

Remember sweet Mighty Dog, who belongs to one of my fave couples? A few weeks ago she was recovering from cancer surgery and I asked you for good karma, hugs, purrs and prayers that she’d get back to her old self.

Remember Mighty Dog?

Recovering in comfort.

Guess what? It worked!

She’s back! She’s better than ever! She’s cancer free!

Ms. Mighty and her partner in crime, Buddy.

Ms. Mighty and her partner in crime, Buddy.

Feeling the need to celebrate everything under the sun (that finally came out in Nashville after a dreary winter – yeehaw!) Saturday evening activities commenced, starting with costuming my Glamingo (what grown ass woman doesn’t have a flamingo to dress up?).

Gussied up and ready to glam.

Gussied up and ready to glam.

My classy party staples were chilled to perfection.

St. Patty's Day fun

Jell-O shots locked and loaded for good luck.

And the most handsome Captain ever was at the ready to accompany me through the evening’s events.

Essentials

Ingredients for a perfect date.

The topper of the night? A spectacular light show that enhanced every aspect of the party…and then some.

Ooooh...ahhh....with the ultimate party lights!

Ooooh…ahhh….with the ultimate party lights!

Sunday was spent in typical fashion – with New Cat frolicking to the couch, only to see he was again too late to partake in lap love as Ted  pretends he’s made of stone and has been fast asleep for three centuries.

Usual places for Sunday evening...

Ignoring at its finest.

Know what I can’t ignore?

Animated faces ready to party among leprechauns.

Are you this excited?

These two are down for some shamrock celebrating.

Here’s hoping you find a pot of gold tomorrow!

CBXB

CBXB!

Crazy Pants Party!

Looking for a fabulous way to kick cabin fever’s ass while celebrating a gal pal’s birthday, there was no better idea than to host a crazy pants party at my mini manse.

Crazy time.

Crazy time for crazy ladies.

Naturally needing to up my outfit ante,  I added pink tinsel eyelashes to my look…which I now want to be an everyday staple.

Details matter most.

Details matter most.

With my outfit ready and set to go, party food being monitored for meddling pussies and birthday decor in proper places, there was only one thing left to do…

Feed me.

Feed me.

… get the furry little host with the most set to be the greeter.

Greeter all

Everyone go home. I’m tired.

And then the crazy pants came in droves!

Crazy Pants!

Literal crazy pants arrived.

Clark Kent in his skivies.

Clark Kent showed in his skivvies.

Party pants with pops of color and sequins for me.

Party pants with polka dots, poppies and sequins mixed and mingled.

The Mad Hatter in her flannel and elf.

Flannel  pants and footie pjs won the prize for comfiest attendees.

And why stop at pants when you can add crazy hats?

Why stop at pants when you can add crazy hats?

Bedazzled helmets for our heads.

Now it’s not a party without a little drama – and you could cut the animal tension with a knife when sweet Precious rolled in.

Precious party goer in her sparkly giddy up.

Stealing Ted’s spotlight (that I’m still paying for).

With a puppy and two pussies under my roof already, this CBXB party wasn’t complete without my Pa.

My eyes are open.

Yes my eyes are open, you just can’t tell because of my six inch long tinsel lashes.

Nor will any party of mine be complete without classy rounds of Jell-O shots served by the one and only Mama CBXB.

You're been served.

You’re been served.

Once I’d consumed my weight in gelatinous goodness, it was time to ruin party pics.

Plenty of party pics for me to ruin.

You’re welcome.

While I was busy being the star of every camera’s show, Dada CBXB didn’t mind taking in all of the lovely lady sights.

All kinds of lovin' spread around.

A perfectly paired couple – from top to bottom.

A crazy pants party isn’t complete without various cray cray lady pics with an appropriate prop.

What's a crazy pants party without crazy party girls?

The angry drunk crazy lady.

Cr

The run for the hills and never look back crazy as fuck cat lady.

Crazy crying girl who was quickly DisLiked.

The crazy crying girl who was DisLiked.

With the shenanigans raging on until daylight started to creep in the windows, Teddy resorted to his Juicy Couture Pussy Palace where he knew I couldn’t fit in and breathe stale Skinny Pirate breath all over him.

Pussy Palace

A fancy furry tent cures kitty hangovers.

And as those wee rays of sunshine poured into the mini manse, I could only muster the energy to reach for my recovery kit complete with vodka, bloody mary mix and aspirin. Lots and lots of aspirin.

Still sippin' on my juice today..

A true life saver.

I may or may not still be sipping on a recovery mix days after this party ended, along with lots and lots and lots of aspirin.

Here’s hoping your week has been headache free!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jell-O Shot Jigglers

Jiggle while you wiggle.

Jiggle while you wiggle.

So, I almost had a heart attack of sorts when perusing the aisles of my fave grocery store in Iowa a few weeks ago when laying my eyes on a box that not only boasted my fave college team, it also contained a mold kit for Jell-O. I almost knocked the entire display down (as well as the few people in my way) trying to get over to this genius in a box merchandise.

Genius in a box.

No one was hurt in the purchase of this Jell-O Jigglers Mold Kit.

Why, it’s just Jell-O in a form resembling my alma mater you say?

To you, yes.

To me, no.

As I am a lover of all things alcoholic, I’m known for never hosting a party that doesn’t include Jell-O shots. Even my family treats Jell-O shots as tradition, having them at all family gatherings (classy, we know).

Hell, even Ted is a fan of spiked jiggly Jell-O.

Teddy approved.

Pussy approved party shots.

Seeing that I could concoct a gelatinous shot for tailgates every Saturday in celebration of my college football team, I couldn’t wait to get back to Nashville and prepare (so excited in fact that I lugged this mold kit in my carry on just in case my luggage got lost and had in-depth discussions with TSA agents when passing through airport security about how cool I was in doing so).

The $4.99 kit includes two mold trays and four boxes of coordinated-with-your-school-colors Jell-O.

Here’s what it takes to make two trays, which gives you 24 ‘shots’:

1 box of Jell-O

Your choice of vodka (in lieu of water)**

Cooking spray

Vodka not included in the box of happy.

Vodka not included in the box of happy.

**For lighter shots, you can do a half water and half vodka recipe.**

Unless you’re like me and have zero math skills (thanks to Scooby, I cheated my mathematical way to graduation from 9th grade on – sorry Mrs. Book – because like all kids I never thought I was really going to use anything other than addition in life but unbeknownst to me, I’d needed mad math skills when perfecting my shot recipes. Shit hooks).

What the fuck is half of 2/3 cup? WHAT?

What the fuck is half of 2/3 cup? What? WHAT?

So when your brain houses zero calculating skills of any kind, use all vodka in the recipe.

To prepare:

Spray the inside of molds with cooking spray

Hawkeye

Use your finger to get the cooking spray into the nooks and crannies of the mold or they’ll turn out less than perfect.    Trust me.

Then boil the water/vodka concoction and dissolve the Jell-O powder. Transfer liquid from cooking pan to a measuring cup (or anything that allows you to pour easily).

Pour

Fill molds and refrigerate three hours.

Instructions from the box will tell you to run a knife along the edges of your molds once the Jell-O has set. This method didn’t work so well (and was going to make my Hawkeye mascot look like it’d been mauled by a bear) Mama CBXB (genius shot maker, mind you) suggested placing the cool molds in a few centimeters of warm water and then use a toothpick to loosen the edges.

Hot soak in the sink wise words from Mama.

Coaxing the Jell-O to cooperate.

A hot soak in the sink (and my clean-until-I-licked-it-after-personally-guiding-each-shot-out-of-its-mold finger) did the trick.

Jiggling goodness.

Jiggling goodness.

Being that popping the little suckers out of the tray can be tricky (and a tad messy since you used cooking spray), distribute them on a paper towel, then move to a serving tray.

Hit of the party...

And boom. Hit of the party.

Field goal fanatics.

Papa approved.

While Dad and I stuck to our touchdown tradition of moonshine shots, the Jell-O shot jigglers can be a substitution for those who’d like to keep their wits about them on a Saturday.

Moonshine shot substitution for those who'd like to keep their wits about them on a Saturday.

Moonshine exchange for fraidy cats.

To see if Jell-O gives a rat’s ass about your favorite college team, click here.

Not into sports? How about a holiday?

I found this handsome party treat at Target over the weekend.

Halloween fun.

Spooky creature kit.

Obviously, you can make these gelatinous treats with no alcohol.

But now how is that any kind of fun?

Jiggle it. Just a little bit.

CBXB

CBXB!

God Bless the USA

Driving a boat at Lake of the Ozarks

Party Chick

Is a party girl from Tennessee

Party Girl

As cousins gather every Fourth

Cousins

To be with family

The Griswolds

From Jell-O shots

Jell-O

With whipped cream

Whipped Cream

Constant fights over the mic

Mic Fight

To sing karaoke

Karoake King

Trivial Pursuit winners, always reign supreme

Winners!

From new tattoos

Tattoo

To pool dunks

Dunk

With drunken dancers around a hunk

Hunk

Our favorite toy is the aqua bar

Aqua Bar

That prevents us from floating too far…

Floater

And I’m proud to be from my family

Family

Where at least I can be me

Beerpoo

And they never, ever let me forget

Just how handy my booty can be

Handy

Cousins blowing their muscles up

Blow Hards

Next to me

Muscles

So I won’t cry and feel left out

Cry Baby

There ain’t no doubt I love my clan

Clan

Thank God for my family!

Fam

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Luck of the Irish My Ass

My St. Patty’s Day weekend proved I’ve become a leprechaun in reverse with no overflowing gold in my pot.

Who's got my pot of gold?

No gold? No problem. Let’s party!

Ever have multiple seconds turn into minutes that roll into hours and then days that make you wanna pull your hair out strand by strand?

Friday morning started with this lovely event…

puncher

All aired out in less than two minutes flat.

A second punctured tire in the last three months requiring me to purchase yet another brand new fucking piece of rubber. Thank you streets of Nashville.

Luck of the Irish my ass

Luck of the Irish my ass.

While I was quite the damsel in distress (let’s remember my nails are “jewels not tools” so no I don’t know, nor care to know how to change a flat tire), I luckily work in a warehouse full of knights in shining armor.

My hero.

My hero to the rescue!

Adding to my mounting car frustration was the fact that I just spent $1000 on brakes last weekend. So between dropping a cool thou enabling my car to halt and throwing another $250 into the wind for a new tire I thought about to pushing my car into oncoming traffic.

Then I remembered I’m not done paying for it.

And I need transportation to and from work in order to pay for my piece of shit vehicle.

Knowing I just drained my entire year’s worth of spending money in two weeks on a hunk of metal about sent me over the edge…all before noon on a Friday. But the fellas at the warehouse know how to take care of an edgy gal – with endless compliments (your day sucks but you look really nice!) and a cigarette (if I’m smoking, it’s bad as I smoke one cigarette every 1,789 days).

Yep. I needed a cig.

Thankful for nicotine, my resident tire expert and the coat he let me borrow.

In order to get my heart rate, blood pressure and sanity back in order, I drove across town to visit Ted, the little fur ball love of my life.

Little lovin'

Just what the doctor ordered.

Why is my beloved on vacation from yours truly?  Because New Cat, the stray we opened our home to in January is sick (and pretty pathetic looking in his cone).

SIck cone head.

Wallowing in the window pane.

Saturday fun was all about New Cat visiting the vet where we found out his eye is not only worse, he’s somehow developed an ear infection, which means another week away from my precious Ted and $100 less grocery money for moi. I feel like the appropriate name for New Cat is now Money Pit.

Pink eye

Poor, pitiful, pink-eyed pussy.

Finding out that my nephew is a mini LeBron James lifted my saggy Saturday spirits.

Palm It!

Palming it in Iowa.

Michael Jordan

Seriously. Check out his biceps with an easy slam dunk.

What made me want to do happy cartwheels around my mini manse? Seeing a photo of my niece, a budding shoe hoarder….

Yep. My niece for sure.

Yep. My niece for sure.

The final act in turning my frown upside down included the main squeeze in my liquor loving life. Captain Morgan.

Taking the edge off

Doing an Irish jig for my Skinny Pirates.

Luck of the Irish my ass.

Who needs rainbows and leprechauns when you have rum?

Turning my pissy pants into party pants was complete with my concoction of green holiday treats.

Happy St. Patty's Day to me!

Filling my pot with Jell-O shots, naturally.

With a little hitch in my kick, I’m happy to say this Nashville gal has the leprechaun spirit in overabundance today.

Who needs a pot of gold?

Luck ‘o the Irish breakfast…and lunch…and dinner.

Here’s hoping some Irish luck finds you, making this a very happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Cheers!

CBXB!