Weekend Winks – Party Style

A killer country concert kicked off a jam-packed Nashville weekend on Friday and the shenanigans haven’t yet stopped.

Cheers Mr. Chesney!

Cheers Mr. Chesney!

Kenny Chesney performed two sold out shows last week at Bridgestone Arena and because of my job, I attended both nights with clients. Being that Kenny and I celebrate birthdays one day apart, I was pretty sure he’d single me out in the crowd to wish me tidings of good joy.

No such luck.

HBD to me.

Happy Birthday to me.

After the enthralling concert experience, I was greeted with some love from my Iowa twins.

Dying.

Is there anything cuter to get for a birthday?

Turns out my niece and nephew are modern-day Picassos, as featured in the photo below.

New Cat had to check out my modern day Picasos

New Cat had to check out the masterpiece I received.

While I was oohing and ahhing over my presents, Prince and Princess B were painting Easter eggs.

Egg paint

Serious about their artwork.

However, Princess B took it upon herself to mimic her Auntie CBXB and paint her nails instead of the boring old eggs.

So my mini me.

My mini me making my heart burst with pride.

Decorating eggs and fingernails creates quite an appetite and there’s hardly anything Princess B loves to gulp down more than salsa.

Salsa tastes so good. Who needs chips?

Who needs chips?

While my mini me was two fisting bowls of salsa, I was busy using two hands to double fist cocktails at one of my birthday celebrations.

Stop. Guzzle time.

Stop. Guzzle time.

Flattered that friends gathered to celebrate my presence on this planet, we yucked it up at one of Nashville’s cool eateries, Suzy Wong’s House of Yum.

Ladies out on the town.

Girls just wanna have fun. And cocktails. Lots of cocktails.

Mama CBXB trudged

Mingling with Mama CBXB.

I was gifted all kinds of goodies, including a beautiful bouquet of roses.

Showered with flowers.

Showered with flowers.

Tears of joy almost streaked my cheeks upon receiving a bell that says ‘Drink Please’. It didn’t stop ringing until about 2am on Saturday night.

Ring my bell.

Ring my bell.

The real humdinger came compliments of my galpal Jdub who not only made cupcakes with sparkles in the frosting but also bedazzled individual boxes for each guest with rhinestones and glitter.

I don't hate it.

Clearly the worst thing I’ve ever seen.

I mean, hello. I wish my friends knew me better.

I mean, hello. I wish my friends knew me better.

Decorator extraordinaire

Decorator extraordinaire is hired for the rest of my birthdays.

Slightly buzzed and on a sugar high, we pranced over to the club adjoining the restaurant and had zero fun.

Fascinator

Party hat pass around.

There, I met my gay soul mate (that’s for you Scooby…just seeing how often you read the blog! And Mr. Scooby you can’t tell him), as he was in the shiniest silver suit ever accompanied by a glitter vest. This is the exact outfit I would want my groom to wear – oh hell, it’s what I want to wear if I ever get hitched.

Lovebirds

You know you’re in a gay club when a man tells you he adores your fascinator.

After all of the whirling, twirling, cupcakes, cocktails and shots there was just one gal standing at the end of the evening.

Um...hello?

Um…hello?

I’m sure you’re not shocked I drank everyone under the table.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

How to Snuggle in a Tour Bus Bunk

Getting cozy in any bunk bed can be tricky but squeezing two bodies into a tour bunk seemed impossible this past weekend (although I know it’s not.  I’ve heard stories. I know babies have been created the tiny space. And we found a condom wrapper in one bunk from a previous trip – eewww, gross!).

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Small spaces are apparently  fun places.

The bus I rode on for my company trip to see Kenny Chesney had 12 bunks for our sleeping pleasure (although I think I spent roughly five hours in my fun space the two nights we were on the bus).

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12 beds. But I think it could “sleep” 24…

The slim hallway to the back bus lounge was surrounded by three bunks high by four bunks long.

Sleepy Hallway

Sleepy hallway.

For complete privacy in your bunk, you simply shut the non-soundproof curtain (I suggest bringing ear phones, ear plugs or your own pillow to put over your head if noise bothers you).

Tunnel of bunks

Tunnel of bunks.

There was plenty of room for me (an almost 5’5″ gal) to stretch out comfortably.

Room for one almost 5'5" person.

This is the life…

And if I wasn’t so concerned on missing out on any of the shenanigans taking place in the front lounge, I might have watched a movie on the drop down DVD player in my snuggle cave.

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No time for movies! There were Skinny Pirates to drink and Truth or Dare to be played!

Being that I’m so tall and not limber in the slightest, I chose a bunk on the top (naturally) and ungracefully hoisted myself up there time and time again. There’s no ladder, no step, no ‘oh shit’ handles while trying to climb in and out of the bed. So once I had my clumsy ass in the bunk, it made sense to get the full on experience of a duo between the sheets.

I hope I don't have to go pee.

I hope I don’t have to go pee.

Enter my gal pal C. She is an experienced tour lady and sauntered up to the top bunk like she was a ballerina (she didn’t see my entrance, thankfully).

Two's kinda a crowd

Two’s a cozy crowd.

While seeing the allure of sharing a bunk if not wanting to get one single moment of sleep, C and I decided after 46 seconds of snuggling that we’d probably be more cozy in our own love caves on wheels.  But if you really want to mingle in a single, be sure you’ve brushed your teeth (or are drunk and don’t care), shaved your legs (because there’s no way legs will not be intertwining) wear minimal clothing (this space will become a hot box once you grace it with your presence – let alone two bodies) and be prepared to snuggle your brains out.

Don't ask why I have a Santa hat and beard on.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

As Santa would say, the more the merrier.

CBXB

CBXB!

Stadi-Mani-um

What do you do when you have an all access stadium pass for a Kenny Chesney concert? You paint your nails, of course.

All access mani

All access mani.

I inadvertently trashed my nails while getting all of the tour bus goodies for our weekend company trip to see Mr. Chesney.

The nail chipper

A perfect mani’s worst nightmare. Loading and unloading and reloading a shopping cart.

I couldn’t be caught dead with no nail polish, so as I was sauntering about the stadium I found a spot and threw some paint on my fingers.

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I’m the blob in the middle of the bleachers, performing a pre-concert mani.

Because I was in a hurry (I didn’t want to miss out on any of the fun) and this was only a temporary mani, I applied one coat of Seche Vite base coat, then tipped the ends in pink.

This six-minute paint job did the trick in covering my naked nails, making me appear all access ready.

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Thank God I always have extra polish with me – I’m sure my bare nails would have had a direct effect on Kenny’s performance.

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Cinco de Chesney Style

My job doesn’t suck.

Working for a production company in Nashville makes for fun outings. This past weekend, our office loaded up a tour bus and headed to Columbia, SC to catch a Kenny Chesney concert.

All access pass to a fun day!

All access pass to a fun day!

My chariot awaited my entry.

My chariot awaited my entry. I could get used to this.

With a designated driver, party times Friday night ensued on the bus.  After a couple cocktails, our soiree into what seemed like a junior high slumber party with games like “Never Have I Ever” and “Truth or Dare,” being played.  The only thing we lacked was a warm bowl of water for the first person who passed out…

What

Truth or moonshine?

What trip is complete without Jagermeister (well, mine could have carried on without it)

Do you dare for a Jager?

Here’s a neat thing a fellow traveler found wedged between the ceiling of her bunk, leftover from a prior trip…

This is why I travel with my bed in a bag.

This is why I travel with my bed in a bag.

Upon our arrival, we found ourselves rollin’ with the big boys in the bus parking lot.

Rollin' with the big boys!

Our party parking lot.

Having an all access pass (poor, poor, pitiful me), I could roam the Williams Brice Stadium and see all of the shenanigans taking place before the door opened.

Williams Brice Stadium cold bleachers awaiting rear ends.

Cold bleachers awaiting rear ends.

Everyone needed their photo taken on the big stage, of course.

Pictures of pictures

Nice photographer!

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Listening to sound checks…not a rough day!

In case you’re blonde and/or are prone to getting lost, there are signs for you to follow everywhere.

There are signs everywhere in case your blonde and have no idea where to go.

Anybody know how to get to everything?

Vibe room to chill

It’s rough work being a VIP!

Think I’d still have a job if I rode the fish below like a bull?

Think I'd still have a job if I rode that fish like a bull?

Yeah I didn’t either, which is why you’re seeing this photo sans moi.

I wondered if Ted would mind this Marshall stack in our mini manse?

I wondered if Ted would mind this Marshall stack in our mini manse?

Aside from seeing Kenny (and Kasey Musgraves, Eli Young Band and the Zac Brown Band), the best part of the day was hanging with my work buddies (oh, and having an all access pass … and the cocktails … and the people watching).

Hanging with the crew

Hanging with some of the crew.

We came. We saw. Kenny conquered.

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It’s me! CBXB! Remember meeting me 10 years ago?

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I caught a glimpse of this below after the concert and had to take a picture – haven’t we all been there before, ladies? (But on second thought, who in the hell wears heels to a six hour concert?)

yuck

Wouldn’t you hate to be in the stall next to me and my camera? No shame here.

Of course Teddy was beyond infuriated when I returned home after being away one night. Therefore, I immediately shoved him in a sombrero (every cat’s dream) because we had to celebrate Cinco de Mayo!

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Nothing but love from those feline eyes.

Promptly after this photo shoot, I walked into my bedroom to find this scene…

Claws of punishment

Claws of punishment.

But in case you were wondering Mr. Bear and I made up by this morning. So much so that he settled in further to snuggle as my alarm (which usually makes him leap out of his fur), was screaming in my ear.

Where do you think you're going?

Where do you think you’re going?

How about my impressive, one armed, in-the-dark photo skills?

What alarm?

What alarm?

I did make it to work today – much to Ted’s dismay.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!