Two Ghouls Are Better Than One

Oh Halloween, how I’ve always loved thee. The 31st day of October was – and still remains – the kick-off to a long-awaited holiday season for me.

I'll cut a bitch

Even at the tender age of three, I’d cut a bitch.

With an assist from my dad.

Letting Dada CBXB (you know, the guy who dresses up like Pam Anderson) do all of the carving work because even way back my nails were “jewels, not tools”.

In a small Iowa town where I was raised, we had costume parties at school and church (when you used to be able to call it a Halloween party complete with witches and bats, instead of a fucking bland Fall Festival with scarecrows and hay bales – why are there fun haters? Why?), parades to prance proudly down our eight block Main Street (where every single one of the 1,200 citizens showed up) and so much trick-or-treating mania, I’d have to come home halfway through the evening just to dump my candy (hiding it all from my dad in the dryer or it’d be gone by morning) because my pumpkin got so overloaded, it was too heavy for me to carry.

hall

Forget my adorableness for one second – what about the clown behind #165?

ped

The Halloween parade. A spectator sport for the entire town.

In my younger years, I carried the burden of celebrating Halloween by myself and being a lone Cookie Monster got frustrating.

Ho Hum

One is the loneliest number.

Begging my parents to procreate, I was presented with Sister CBXB (you know, the one who called my dad a goddamn son of a bitch at the age of four) who was immediately awarded with side kickin’ it as my lifetime partner-in-crime (lucky her). If I was going to be dressing up (oftentimes making an ass out of myself in later years) she was going to be doing it too, by god (town parades included).

In the beginning of our twosome, we were all about cutesy costumes.

Sugar'n' Spice

The rock star and Raggedy Ann. A little sugar for my spice.

The ‘cute’ theme seemed to carry on in our early years.  Except for the tilt in our heads…and the fog in the background…and the overall sinisterness of this photo.

Creepy Hollow

Cute masked crusaders in Creepy Hollow.

As we grew older, I wanted a little edge (well as much edge as an elementary kid and toddler could muster) to our giddy ups. I let my young inner badass out, as my sister scared the pants off no one.

very busy

That’s right. I was hardcore even in elementary school.

We slid slightly into the ghoulish department as my sister joined me in grade school.

Scardey Crow

Scaredy crow and premature mini old man. Almost spine-chilling. Almost.

Then I graduated to truly frightening and fearful territory as I crept toward junior high.  Pebbles was not impressed.

Pebs

I’m also starting to wonder if there was any other color of hair paint than green, since that tends to be a trend here.

When we thought we were oh so grown up, our costumes reflected our mature attitudes.

Lady and the Tramp.

Lady and the Tramp. Or Princess and Sock Hop Girl…however you want to look at it.

We were reminded in following years just how far from adults we were…especially yours truly. A recycled mask and costume from a previous Halloween hid my “I’m way too old for this shit” attitude toward trick-or-treating when I was forced to go with my younger sister.

Barley a Boo

I can’t tell who’s more excited – the monster or the witch.

And being older we’re not so much cute, cuddly or even scary creatures…we’re just mostly cocktailed.

bl

The odd couple. Pocahontas and Kid Rock.

Now that we’re miles apart during the costuming time of year, it’s fun to look back at our sisterly ghosts of Halloween’s past. But what’s even more fun is seeing her twin goblins growing to love the holidays as much as she and I did as kids.

Scary season #1.

As

Permanent partners-in-crime.

Scary season #2.

I know, I know. The cutest fucking dog and cat you've ever seen.

I know, I know.
The cutest fucking cat and dog you’ve ever seen.

Scary season #3.

Princess Leah and Yoda

Star Wars at its silliest.

Scary season #4.

A mermaid with her super hero.

Scary season #5.

Captain America and a Princess Peacock.

No matter how you choose to spend Halloween, here’s to having a side kickin’ ghoul for your spooky festivities.

Happy Haunting!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Friends, Football and Bad Asses

Is there any better feeling when the clock strikes 5pm on Friday and happy hour is screaming your name?

Hands up it's the weekend!

Hands up it’s the weekend!

My Iowa twins kicked off their Friday cozying up by water slides at the swim park in between mouthfuls of chips and salsa.

Cozying up at the swim park.

Cute kisses.

Meanwhile I cozyied up to a gal pal that blew in from the Windy City for a short trip.

Happy

So happy to see her, I couldn’t stop staring at her face. #awkward

This past Saturday was a bigger deal than the rest in regard to our Iowa Hawkeye tailgates, as it was homecoming weekend and my squad prepped for the Fighting Illini of Illinois.

Silly Illinois on our homecoming

Appropriate University of Iowa endorsed game hashtag: #ILLannoying

My very own self appointed Homecoming King helpfully added cat hair to all elements of the decor.

Tailgater is ready to go.

Tailgating Ted.

Due to another early ass 11am kick-off, we opted for a brunch spread of egg and sausage tacos, bacon and french toast.

Breakfast bonanza

Breakfast bonanza!

Dada CBXB and I knew we needed some sort of foundation due to the possibility we’d be taking a moonshine shot before noon (which we did).

Two baby

Touchdown #2 after noon, thankfully.

Three!

Number three solidifies a homecoming victory!

For good measure, we had to do a victory shot as well because our Hawkeyes have a 6-0 record for the first time since 2009 (and are now ranked #17 thank you very much).

So excited

Feelin’ fine!

Busy keeping our livers in check down in Tennessee, the Iowa twins were visiting their first winery (we start them young) Saturday afternoon.

Vine time.

Taking vine time extremely seriously.

While the twins were learning the wonders of grapes turning into wine, Jdub and myself were on the way to see my boyfriend, best friend, party buddy favorite performer, Kid Rock at the Woods Amphitheater just outside of Nashville.

Fighting over the perfect man.

Fighting over the perfect man upon entrance.

Being that we’re two fairly basic bitches, we needed something to ump up our redneck ante. Thankfully the merch table took care of our accessory needs, announcing to the world what we already knew…

Immediate red neck wannabees.

Yep. We know. Total American badasses.

We can't help but be classy.

With the help of hats we became an immediate redneck duo.

We had no problems looking like white trash, gallivanting around the lawn seats, trying not to spill booze on everyone. It was especially hard not to look like complete and total assholes when we discovered that our tickets were not simply general admission….we had assigned seats.

HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!

HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!

My luck didn’t stop there. Kid Rock wore pink just for me. Just for me (and probably not because it’s breast cancer awareness month. Whatever).

Pretty in pink.

Pretty in pink.

He was so purty, I had to adjust my sunglasses I wore at night (because yes, I am that fucking cool).

Killing time after the show, we called everyone in our phone books. Sorry not sorry for the late night calls, endless voicemails, photos and texts sent to our close (and not so close) friends. We just wanted to tell everyone about our Saturday night.

We had zero fun.

Obvies.

Here’s hoping you’re your own American badass this week.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

How to Turn Your Dad Into Pamela Anderson

This post is a ghost from a Halloween past…but couldn’t resist sharing again this season.

Kissy Face

A few years ago I was dying to dress up as Kid Rock and needed a trashy Pamela Anderson to hang all over me.  Because my dad is no stranger to the spotlight (and always my hero) he leapt at the chance.

But how in the hell do you transform a 6’4″ man into a petite (OK not happening….ever), blond, big busted bombshell?

You start feet first by carefully applying polish to gigantic toes.

Heavy duty gloves for a hazardous job as my dad has a green toe I lovingly refer to as Foot Fungus.

Hoping the thick ass gloves prevent the Foot Fungus from jumping to my body.

Top off the precious pedicure with an orange bow (to make those feet look a teeny tiny bit more feminine and festive).

The bow helps….kinda.

Next, a base for the famous face must be applied as the transformation continues (the application of foundation “hurt his face,” according to this cross dresser).

Suffering to be beautiful has never been this man’s motto.

Also be sure manly Pam has brushed his teeth this century before getting too close.

Be sure your Pam has brushed her teeth this century.

I learned the hard way and had no breath mint.

The trickiest and final step is squeezing Pamela into her costume because we created her famous rack by stuffing as much quilt batting as possible into nylons.

Squeeeeeze

Even the largest bra found at Wal-Mart had velcro extenders added in order to get the damn thing to clasp shut.

Dying a men’s tank top red (and almost ruining a washer in the process) we applied masking tape to create the Lifeguard logo. I scored the checkered shorts in the very big ladies section at Wal-Mart (go figure), topping man Pam off with a blond wig.

Prettiest Man Pam ever. Right?

But by God, she ended up looking like a fabulous Baywatch knock-off and now all Pamela needed was her handsome rock star flavor, Kid Rock.

This union totally lasted… a whole six months.

Our band of misfits were all gussied up, ready to fill our party drinking cups.

Playmate Crazy Pants, Hugh Hefner, Playmate Mama, Pam Man and yours truly.

Playmate Crazy Pants, Hugh Hefner, Playmate Mama, Pam Man and yours truly.

With the complete transformation in place, Pammy was (happily, excitedly, thrilled to be) the center of attention. She tended to overshadow even the most glamorous celebrities at the party.

Marilyn Monroe couldn't help but manhandle Pam's assets.

Marilyn Monroe couldn’t help but manhandle Pam’s assets.

Where's Cher?

Where’s Cher?

Everyone was completely obsessed with Pam’s chest –  even men that view breasts as their day job.

Hugh

Hugh Hefner couldn’t believe his old man eyes.

Even

This dude who knew this Pam was a dude couldn’t help but motorboat.

But even the ladies couldn’t resist a round with Pamela’s chest.

But they do make for a nice place to rest your head.

Lifeguard flotation devices also doubling as head rests.

Although this real life odd couple went on to hit the skids, Kid and Pam were able to let bygones be bygones this particular Halloween.

kissy

Is my dad fun or what?

And while this may not be the Pamela Anderson of everyone’s dreams, she’s awfully pretty to me.

Pam Man is the fairest in this Nashville land.

And that my friends is how you transform your studly, ex-NFL playing father into a sex pot.

But let’s not forget, beauty is in the eye of the beholder…

CBXB

CBXB!

How to Turn Your Dad Into Pamela Anderson

This post is a ghost from a Halloween past…but couldn’t resist sharing this season.

A few Halloweens ago I was dying to dress up as Kid Rock and needed a trashy Pamela Anderson to hang all over me. And when my boyfriend at the time refused and because my dad is no stranger to the spotlight (and always my hero) he leaped at the chance.

But how in the hell do you transform a 6’4″ man into a petite (OK, not happening), blonde, big busted bombshell?

You start feet first.

Heavy duty gloves for a heavy-duty job.  My dad has a green toenail (because he’s too cheap to buy the prescription to remedy) that I lovingly refer to as Foot Fungus (hence the gloves).

Carefully apply polish to the gigantic toes.

I’m hoping the heavy-duty gloves ward off Foot Fungus from jumping on my body.

Which are then topped off with an orange bow (to make those feet look a teeny tiny bit more feminine).

The bow helps….kinda.

A base for the famous face must be applied as the transformation continues (the application of foundation “hurt his face,” according to the cross dresser).

Pre-Pam obviously isn’t in tune with the “must suffer to be beautiful” saying.

Stuffing Pamela into her costume proved the most difficult task of all.

Even the largest bra found at Walmart had to have velcro extenders added in order to get the damn thing to clasp.

But by God, she ended up looking like a fabulous Baywatch knock-off.

Prettiest Man Pam ever. Right?

Pam’s famous rack was made by stuffing as much quilt batting as possible into nylons. I dyed a men’s tank top red (because I could not find a women’s XXXL) and applied masking tape to create the Lifeguard logo.  I scored the checkered shorts in the very big ladies section at Walmart (go figure), topping the man Pam off with a blonde wig. And that’s how you transform your studly father into a sex pot.

Now all Pamela needed was her handsome rock star flavor at the time, Kid Rock.

This union will totally last. A year.

With the complete transformation in place, Pam was (happily, excitedly, thrilled to be) the center of attention.  She tended to overshadow even the most glamorous celebrities at the party.

Where’s Marilyn?

And everyone was completely obsessed with Pam’s chest.

Just to give you an idea…

Hugh Hefner couldn't even believe his eyes.

Hugh Hefner couldn’t even believe his eyes.

Cher wa

Cher was beyond excited to rest her weary head on Pam’s gigantic chest.

Even a dude who knew that this Pam was was a dude couldn't help but motorboat.

Even a dude who knew that this Pam was a dude couldn’t help but motorboat.

Even though this real life odd couple went on to hit the skids, Kid and Pam were able to let bygones be bygones this particular Halloween.

Is my dad fun or what?

And while this may not be the Pamela Anderson of everyone’s dreams, she’s awfully pretty to me.

Pamela Anderson, the waaaaay later years version.

But then again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Who’s gotta fun dad to dress up this Halloween?

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks

Alcohol, tattoos and Kid Rock can always turn things around, right?

Does this Jim Beam tattoo make me look like an alchoholic?

Does this Jim Beam tattoo add to my full on classiness?

I was pretty sure my weekend was in the pisser with a flat tire, a nasty cold and a forgotten concert outfit at home Friday morning.

Weekend off to a flat start

Off to a flat start…

But fabulous friends whiplashed me back into my maniacal state about my hot date with Kid Rock and his 15,000 closest Nashville fans.

All aboard for the Kid Train!

All aboard for the Kid train!

Pumped about my 10th (yes 10th!) row seats, I had to run in and check them out in between Jim Beam cocktails.

A perfect 10

A perfect 10.

But how in the world was I going to be the apple of Kid Rock’s eye? By inking myself up, of course.

help!

Is this going to hurt?

Help!

Somebody hold my hand, damn it!

Did I mention that this was a henna tattoo?

Totally classy

All fun and no permanency for this commitment phobe.

But I did feel like quite the bad ass with my kickin’ eagle tattoo.

blah

After all of my classy arm primping, I still didn’t catch Mr. Rock’s attention.

hello

Hello! Over here with the arm tat!

But I scored something even better than a glimpse from Kid … maneuvering up to the front row…..!

BEST

Holy Shit!

Where I proceeded to lose my f’ing mind, driver’s license and check card (come to find out as I was trying to get into a bar after the show – but don’t worry a nice doorman let me in to party even though I don’t look a day over 20) as I raised the roof (like the whitest chick in the world) with my favorite rocker.

I pledge allegiance to the kid

I pledge allegiance to The Kid.

As usual, Teddy sensed my pain on Saturday and selfishly insisted I spend the rest of the weekend with him.

Feeling my pain

Feeling my discomfort. Smart cat.

After a bag full of favorite food from my own personal Cheers (it’s heaven – they deliver!), Ted and I mustered enough energy to sit up on the couch.

thanks you

My stomach rejoiced in grease.

Even though our necks still hurt from headbanging…

Rocked out...

Rocked out.

And while I still require a hand on my chin to alleviate my sore neck, I’m tattoo free and fully re-hydrated today.

Until next weekend…

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks

Work started Friday at Fontanel Mansion  – home of my idol, Barbara Mandrell.

While most folks would be excited to see two shiny new tour buses….

blah

Plush life.

blah

With matching interiors in light…

blah

or dark hues.

But not this chick. I about pissed my pants when I saw Barbara’s actual tour bus from the ’80s.

babs!

Barbara!

pinch me

Pinch me!

While her decor was a bit out-of-date, I was in love…

blah

Think anyone would notice if I moved in?

Especially when I saw her bathroom – which further solidified her idol status in my mind.

After my own heart

Mirror mirrors on the wall!

Working all day made me once thirsty gal and I found a new love at the after-party bar. Sweet Lucy – bourbon cream (which could also be called Heaven on Earth).

Gimme

Hello Lovah.

All of the work and play Friday made for lazy recovery time the rest of the weekend.

r and r

An extra cat nap for Ted (he waits up for me to get home) – he hates when I f with his sleep schedule.

After all of the napping, I prepped little goodies for my special Valentine peeps this week.

blah

Wrapped and ready.

Of course Teddy had to get involved.

blah

Ted’s tissue approval.

Exerting all of the energy once again made Ted tired and me thirsty.

blah

My Valentine.

This auntie got pics of the precious new twins.

blah

Sweet little piggies!

And as I cleaned all day Sunday, Teddy basked in the glow of my red Valentine light.

blah

Seeing red. Literally.

Now I just hope I can sleep this week because I have a hot date with Kid next Friday.

look out next weekend

Hello Mr. Rock.

Too bad my date includes 15,000 other fans.

Damn it!

CBXB

CBXB!

The Real Deal

Two of my favorite blogging buddies – the always curious Knowledge Knut and the logically funny Adrian Charles Horan – nominated me for The Reality Blogger Award.  Now some people pish posh these feel good warm fuzzies but not me, of course.  I accept all praise and pats on the back with open arms (if you already didn’t notice).  So thank you for thinking I’m a real deal…hell to tha yeah!

In order to properly ‘accept’ my award, I will answer the following questions that every blogger who achieves this accomplishment must do:

  1. If you could change one thing what would you change? Those who regularly read this blog won’t be surprised by the cray cray in my answer here (for those of you who are just stopping by for the first time today: Hello, I’m Captain and I have a problem. I let my world revolve around a pussy cat). The fact that I may outlast the little furball love of my life, Teddy B, is what I wish to change.  I am not asking to perish at an early age but I would like for him to live forever (but not a moment past me, as he would miss me too much if I was gone. Duh).

    Where the hell have you been?

    Don’t go dyin’ on me now!

  2. If you could repeat an age, what would it be? I wouldn’t repeat. Just keep on keepin’ on!

    Wondering how to pass time in the evening? Dress up like Linda Blair and show your muscles off to the camera. DUH!

    Why would I want to repeat this?

  3. What one thing really scares you? NOT DIVULGING. I know some of my readers are pranksters and would use it to their advantage!

  4. What is one dream you have not completed, and do you think you’ll be able to complete it? Well, I’ve run a marathon, which was more like a nightmare than a dream come true…I’ve wanted to sell out arena tours but managed to fill frat houses to the brink of fire code…so next on my list – I’d like to be the spokesperson for Captain Morgan, the Iowa State Fair and cats.  I’d also like to stop pinching pennies, own a forever home in my current neighborhood and go to Europe with an open ended budget where calories don’t count. Now that I’ve listed six, maybe one is attainable. (Probably the cat spokesperson).

    Star of the Southern frat houses (and not in the way you think. F you).

  5. If you could be someone else for one day, who would you be? My cat, obviously.  But a person….I would be Steven Tyler, Kid Rock or Mick Jagger.

    Best looking

    Kid, back in the Pamela Anderson days.

Here’s my list of Real Deals:

  1. Fresh ScratchMonday Meal Madness that will tempt your taste buds, along with posts about real life.
  2. Non Fashionista – my real life pen pal, all around fashion lover and she reviews all kinds of items, keeping you in the know.
  3. Sugar and Spice Baking – passions for baking, health and chocolate. What’s not to love? And scrumptious recipes!
  4. Dressed in MY Closet – she likes fuchsia, feathers, Chanel and sparkles. This is a no-brainer!
  5. Impress When You Dress – I love admiring her sketches (as she does in place of homework – she rocks!).

The rules to follow if you choose to accept:

  1. Acknowledge that blogger on your blog and link back to them
  2. Answer the 5 questions presented
  3. Nominate 5  bloggers for the award and notify them on their blogs.
  4. Copy and paste the award on your blog somewhere

The list of questions to answer are the same as above:

  1. If you could change one thing what would you change?

  2. If you could repeat an age, what would it be?

  3. What one thing really scares you?

  4. What is one dream you have not completed, and do you think you’ll be able to complete it?

  5. If you could be someone else for one day, who would it be?

reality-blog-award

I’m going to go and have a Skinny Pirate in celebration.

Cheers – For Reals!

CBXB

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