Weekend Winks- Tidbits

It’s been a minute since I have been able to post about my weekend shenanigans as I’ve had my head in the proverbial sand, trying to get my own shit together and love myself.

Loving myself fives hundred times over.

Thanks to my kick ass friends, family and followers, you’ve showered me with enough kindness and love to last a lifetime. And it’s meant the world.

Thank you from the bottom of my butt because it’s a helluva lot bigger than my heart.

Speaking of friends, an old pal from Iowa, Buffalo, blew in from Phoenix a few weeks ago and could not have come at a better time. The belly laughs, peeing of pants and long afternoon pass out naps were severely needed by this chick.

No straws left in Music City.

Dumpy, Buffalo and an Ass Clown.

You guess which one is which.

Honky tonkin’ in Nashvegas is literally like Vegas only you don’t win any money. There isn’t a chance. But you can sure blow your wad…just as Buffalo.

Cowboys and cowgirls out on the town.

What weekend of mine would be complete without jazz hands?

This man could be my soul mate.

After all of the shenanigans, this chick needed a low-key soak in a bubble bath. Since I lack a large lip around my tub, I resort to putting Precious on the shitter. She doesn’t seem to mind, since we’re still together.

Chug a dub dub while mom’s in the tub.

My other four fur babies can’t be bothered to join in any bathing fun because naturally, they sleep 22.6 hours per day.

Why did you have to use the flash, you bitch?!

Oh and those Iowa twins of mine? I’m waiting by the phone for a modeling agency to call me, as I’m dying to be their auntager. I will give Kris Jenner a run for all of her millions with these two natural beauties.

Yes, these are the two cutest kids on the fucking planet.

If the modeling doesn’t work out, there is always basketball. Especially if it’s a super girly league and Princess B is able to wear whatever the hell she wants and use a purple basketball.

Future Hall of Famers.

Speaking of kids, I’d be remiss not to speak to the horrendous mass shooting in Florida. The ongoing heartbreak of losing innocent lives, is beyond measure. And, I’ve had to question my own ideas, opinions and thoughts over the days since it’s happened.

Of course, I don’t know the answer. But I sure as shit don’t think that any kind of military grade rifle should be allowed in the hands of regular folks. Do you really need this sort of firearm to hunt? To protect your house? To shoot clay pigeons? I am no gun expert, believe me. I own a revolver and I have exactly five bullets in my mini manse and they are in my gun (for those of you who stay over at the mini, my gun gets unloaded and the bullets are housed in a separate drawer when guests arrive, so calm down). When I see people freaking the fuck out over the phrase “gun control” and being insulted by second amendment rights being taken away, I think that’s extreme. You want a gun to protect your house, fine. You want a rifle to hunt, fine. But do you need a military grade rifle to do so?

I have been reading all points of view – and yes, if someone is bananas enough, they will find away to kill people. Folks think the FBI could have done something, as they have admitted they missed two tips. I wonder though, what could they do? The kid had no record. His mother, when she was alive, notified the police of his behavior. He’d been expelled from school. He was having mental problems that were being treated. How many empty threats are made on a daily basis? Or, would this be like when you take a restraining order out to protect yourself but it does nothing?

Is this the answer? I don’t know what is – I wish I could look to those in politics who can enforce change but it’s beyond evident that I can’t. In my opinion, it’s not a Republican vs. Democrat problem. It’s an American problem that rings through every single state. I can’t imagine being a parent – let alone a fucking kid that has to practice gun shooting drills – today. It’s insane and it has to stop.

While the domination of news was focused on the Florida mass shooting (as it should be), the Olympics have also been underway and Dada CBXB and myself entered in our favorite sport. Drinking.

We trained all football season for this moment.

Speaking of moments, I still have my Christmas tree up (aka Celebration tree) and since it was pouring down on Saturday, I sat my ass on my leopard couch and got sucked into TV movies.

Redneck? White Trash? I don’t give a fuck.

Cuddled up butt to butt with my favorite snuggle pants.

A chug with a chugger.

Watching horrendously cheesy Hallmark movies (side note – it’s a dream of mine to star in one, no shit) full of you-already-know-what-the-character-is-going-to-say-before-they-say-it while falling in love and getting engaged within a week pulled at my cold, dead heart for once. I immediately called in all reinforcement.

Divorce court here I come. Crisis averted.

While I peruse Facebook as often as the next person, I have a serious love/hate relationship with the fucking memories that pop up from forever ago. Yesterday, my Aunt Crazy Pants and I celebrated nine years of social media friendship. Which was fitting because her birthday would have been this upcoming Friday, so she’s been on my mind constantly (not that she isn’t always).

Taking solace in my wine glass was quite easy because it was national drink wine day yesterday (which is every day for me but since it was a nationally recognized holiday, who am I not to overly partake?!).

OH. MY. GOD. BECKY. It’s an every day for us.

Good thing I have wine glasses that hold entire bottles of wine while I plot how to take over the universe.

Cheers to all of the tidbits in your life. Now go pour a heart healthy glass of vino.

Captain’s orders.

CBXB

How to Pass the Sparkle On

I’ve never met anything gaudy that I didn’t immediately love and it’s of utmost importance (to me) that my love of sparkle make its way to the next generation.

Recital

Wishing this little giddy up still fit to parade around in daily, minus the heinous hair cut.

You can imagine my delight when I became the proud aunt of twins – one being a little girl. I knew she was going to fill my high heels in no time flat when I saw the camera hogging abilities with which she was born.

Scene stealer

A natural scene stealer.

While my amorous relationship with glitter and glitz began with a turquoise sequins top, I thought for certain this raccoon-like trait would be passed along to my niece.

love

Please put this on me and never take it off. Ever.

Turns out my Princess B wasn’t a natural-born lover of all things ostentatious.

It's my party...

An underwhelmed, sparkly Super Girl.

Seems that the only time I showed disdain in an outfit is when it lacked sparkle.

First Mate

Seriously, this First Mate shit is the best we could do?

Thinking Princess B may need to be eased into the gaudiness of Auntie CBXB, I hoped a bright pink, star adorned puffer vest might do the trick.

On and on and on

Flamboyancy fail.

To me, the only thing worse than wearing a simple jeans and t-shirt combo is the thought of anything neutral finding its way into my wardrobe. Even as a kid, the horror of me being in anything close to the color khaki threw me into fits of tears…

Nope.

Dad might as well have thrown the brown sack over my head.

So you can imagine my utter delight when I purchased the most non-subtle dress for a toddler in the world (you bet your ass I’d have a matching one if it came in my size) and Princess B showed great interest.

Be still my beating heart...

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Seeing the look on my niece’s face as she took her first few steps into the mini prom dress, I felt the taste of victory creeping over my fuchsia stained lips.

Yep....

Sparkle lover being born…

But in .00187 seconds affection turned to disgust and the gaudy sky turned gray.

Dress fail.

An all out bawl baby breakdown.

Sniffled

Followed by deep sighs and sniffles.

But suddenly the attitude was adjusted the moment Princess B stopped to smell the glittery roses and evaluated just how this ornate outfit made her feel.

But wait...

But wait…feeling fancy doesn’t suck.

And then…

TA-DAH!

Success!

Dressed for extravagant success!

Turns out Princess B will be taking over the glaringly bright, gaudy baton I will be handing her one day after all.

hi

Hopefully as a grown woman, she’ll be sneaking into famous people’s closets to play dress up, making Auntie CBXB proud.

I’m so glad she finally saw the light.

One can hope.

My shimmering heart bursts with pride.

I mean, someone needs to carry on my sparkly shenanigans, ya dig?

Sparkle On.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

 

 

 

Give Her the F’ing Nuts You SOB!

WARNING! Excessive profanity contained in the paragraphs below (spewed from a four-year-old’s mouth). Read at your own risk.

My foul mouthed sister in her earlier days. Don’t let this sweet face fool you.

My entire family (yes, I can say that proudly) has a knack for our fabulous trashiness (see White Trash Wednesday or anything in the Grizzies category).  After previous posts divulging of family classiness, I could not resist sharing “The Great McDonald’s Ice Cream Incident” once again. I first divulged this jewel a year ago when I had all of nine readers, therefore none of you who aren’t relation will be laying eyes on this for the first time (lucky you).

Growing up in a small (population 1,200) Iowa farming community, our Saturday nights were spent 20 minutes away at the nearest Pizza Hut (I thought was so fancy – I used to be easily impressed. USED to be).  Often times my grandma and grandpa would join us for our family date night and we would head to McDonald’s for ice cream afterward.

One Saturday we were on our journey through the drive thru, Dad chauffeuring us in the front seat with Grandpa.  My mom, sister, grandma and myself were all in the back and giving our orders (sounds like a dream of a Saturday night, huh?).  As Dad was receiving and passing the treats out, my sister got her sundae.

My four-year-old sibling looked my dad square in the face and said (without hesitation or skipping a beat), “You goddamn son-of-a-bitch I wanted nuts on my sundae.”

Immediate silence followed (although I was instantly delighted that I wasn’t the sister in trouble this time).

I assume my reaction was something like this one captured above (you’re loving the classy outfit with hair clips, aren’t you?).

Moments later, reactions set in. Grandpa busted out laughing. Grandma’s jaw hit the floor.  My mom leaned up over the seat to hiss in my dad’s ear,  “MICHAEL!” and my dad replied, “What? I don’t say those words,” (which I instantaneously knew was a lie because anytime he had his head under a sink being the ‘plumber,’ I never remembered him saying shoot, gosh darn it or duck).

Little did Grandpa know how his heart would burst with secret pride over my sister’s nut rant a few years after this photo was snapped.

So, my toddler sister just put the phrase together all in her own right? Well, being classy, a little trashy and quickly having my sister’s back, my grandma said, “I bet she learned it from all of those John Wayne movies.”  Um, yeah, since we had a three channel cable line up in our metropolis.

Being white trash is knowing better but doing it anyway, while not giving a rat’s ass what anyone else thinks. My sister just got a head start – you gotta love her spunkiness!

All guts and glory for this kid.

So fabulously trashy…I can’t wait to see how her kids carry on the tradition.

CBXB

CBXB!

How to Go From Shitfaced to Sober While Watching a Sunset

Watching the sun go down in Key West is where you wanna be if you’re a tourist (and if I lived there, it’d be where you’d find me each and every evening with my Skinny Pirate in hand).

How does one catch the last of the day’s rays while in Key West?

First, you take a cocktail and grab a bike taxi. Then ogle over the 21-year old Serbian cycling dude while riding down the entire length of Duval Street.

blah blah

Please pedal as slowly as possible. Please.

I mean, the hair! The accent! Not to mention an always ready and able ride home from the bars. It may be true love.

In case you need a bike taxi while in Key West, call this number and request the Serbian

In case you need a bike taxi while in Key West, call this number and request the Serbian.

Once dropped at Mallory Square (a famous Key West spot folks flock to catch the sunset – complete with street performers), promptly get a cocktail and claim your spot on the dock losing yourself in the moment.

Deep thoughts with CBXB

Deep thoughts with CBXB…

Really, all I was thinking about was are they going to remake The Goonies? (you seriously thought I had serious thoughts? C’mon now!).

Holy Mary Mother of God - what a great movie (and boat).

Goonies never say die!

If you squint really hard, I'm pretty sure you can spot Sloth, Chunk and Data.

If you squint really hard, I’m pretty sure you can spot Sloth, Chunk, Data and Mikey…and wait – is that the Fratellis?!

But this is how gorgeous the sunset was before I stopped paying attention and wanted a Baby Ruth candy bar after I started thinking about the damn Goonies movie.

Going...going...

Going…going…

Once the sun is truly gone, you will need to take yourself and your cocktail down the pier to absorb all of the street performers. This daring juggler started out with fire….

My hair is highly flammable. Please don't drop that.

My hair is highly flammable. Please don’t drop that.

Flames just weren’t impressive enough, so he added a tomahawk and an ax to the show.

Fire, tomahawk and oh my!

I took four giant steps back when this occurred.

After getting a stomachache watching the young juggler (whose mom thinks he’s in college, by the way), there’s only one other thing to do. Get your palm read.

And let me tell you, nothing will take you from shitfaced to sober in three seconds flat like an Indian man telling you about you and your life. Mr. Mahadeo Jerrybanahan turned my drunk world upside down that night on Duval Street.

blah blah blah

All sobered up.

When I first sat down, MJ told me I hate (and he said hate) being told what to do (not a shock to anyone who knows me). He went on to say that I’m persuasive (you’re still reading this, right?!), convincing (you should go adopt a cat right now) and people like to be around me (give me some Captain and let’s get this party started!).

The sobering up started when he told me that I really dislike my stomach and have problems with it (I have Celiac’s Disease), I can have kids if I want (immediately making my arm pits perspire – but I’m already a fabulous cat mom!) and I will suffer great heartache (man, why did he have to tell me that?!).

While I was absorbing whatever kind of heart grief could be coming my way, Mr. Jerrybanahan told me that I would have two sources of income by the time I’m 50 and never again have to worry about money (um, I’m wishing this would start any day now) and that ultimately I will have a happy and fun life. Yeehaw!

After all of the life news, the night kinda seemed like this as my blonde, Captain’d up brain was processing the future….

blah blah

What just happened?!

And that my friends is how to sober up (and watch a beautiful sunset) in Key West. My palmist was already dead on about two things that evening – I was happy and having fun.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!