How to Trash Up a Classy Joint

You can't take me anywhere.

You can’t take me anywhere.

While in Miami recently, I was lucky enough to be invited to the beyond delicious Bourbon Steak restaurant. I’m sure the staff wanted to run for the hills upon our appearance and hearing my shrill voice laughing at the first photo of the evening which ended up being a group selfie fail compliments of yours truly.

Group Selfie Fail

I need longer arms. Or perhaps one of those things Santa delivered every other narcissistic person on the planet for Christmas…a selfie stick!

When entering a fine dining establishment, it’s important to first capture all of your classiness before you disrupt every other diner for two straight hours.

Don’t all restaurant goers get a pic in the entryway?

First, capture all of your classiness before you disrupt the other diners for two straight hours.

Hidden trashiness at its finest.

All of your classy efforts will fly right out the window faster than a witch on a broom when you’re unable to decide what to sip on for the evening due to the cocktail menu being as large as an outdated encyclopedia, so you just splurge. No one will look at you funny.

Two is better than one.

Two is better than one.

Next be sure to capture all of the finest accessories that accompany your experience because if you’re like me, you’re known for whipping together fancy suppers like this…

One of my masterpieces.

One of my masterpieces.

So pay no attention when snide looks are thrown your way as you snap a pic of very ordinary items on your lavish dinner table like olives so green it appears as if the Grinch made them.

Grinch green olives reenest olives on the planet.

GREEN OLIVES! HOLY SHIT!

And act cool when a Caesar salad comes out with a swirly bacon hat on top of it.

Is this considered six degrees from Kevin Bacon?

Is this considered six degrees from Kevin Bacon?

Keep it together when your sushi comes out minus the rice.

Tasty tuna.

If I eat this raw fish I will have the body of Demi Moore, correct?

Being a classless diner means you wolf your food down while everyone else acts like a normal person and eats at a normal speed (and actually chews their food).

Did I do that? Inhaler.

Did I do that?

Another thing about fabulously fancy restaurants is their comfortable seating. If you’re too full to move or need to pass out take a nap, simply lie down and do so.

After double fisting cocktails and stuffing my face so fast I wouldn’t have noticed if I swallowed one of my own rings, I sank into  the plush couch where my ample rear resided.

Pass out, er I mean nap time.

Fancy restaurants require a snooze.

Photobombing

Fancy restaurants require photo bombing.

Thumb sucking.

Fancy restaurants require thumb sucking.

Make out sesh with my pillow.

Fancy restaurants require make out sessions with a pillow.

To all of those diners around me, it looked as if I was down for the count.

JUST KIDDING!

JUST KIDDING!

When you’re back and at ’em again, it’s smart to get your second wind by drinking a martini and coffee at the same time.

Still able to double fist.

Secrets to lasting all night.

Something else that will help you remain secretly trashy in a classy joint is being joined by a sidekick. Not only did mine expertly photo bomb me, she did the following when I asked her to take yet another picture of me (because I didn’t have enough already)…

A woman after my own heart.

Yep, she’s perfect for me.

Once a Sidekick is in residence, it’s important to share every little detail of the fancy eating experience.

So when I discovered a full length mirror with complimentary lighting, I had to get SK in on the adventure.

Oh hello mirror!

Oh hello mirror! I’ve never seen myself before. Better get a picture.

Get out of the way bitch. We need the 5,389,013 picture of ourselves tonight!

Get outta the way bitch. We need the 5,389,013 picture of ourselves tonight!

Victoria's Secret has not called yet.

Victoria’s Secret has not called yet. Weird.

It’s of the utmost importance to act as if dining in such a fine establishment is no big deal, so on your way out of the restaurant don’t make a scene where everyone in the restaurant can see you.

Hey-oh!

No, that’s not a plastic bag hanging off of SK’s purse as you might expect. It’s a scarf. Because it’s terribly cold in Miami.

But then again, what fun is it dining in a classy place without bringing a little tashtacular attitude?

You can't take me anywhere.

No fun. No fun at all.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

Merry Moments

I’m baaaack!

Miss me? Because I missed you as I greeted 2015 with about ten extra holiday pounds and 40,401 less brain cells.

Hello 2015!

Hello 2015!

While on a blogging break, I hung with my two favorite pussies more than I care to admit in Christmas pajamas.

Cat time.

Yep. Still a crazy cat lady.

I played reindeer games in hopes that Saint Nicholas would soon make an appearance.

Reindeer games.

All dolled up with no Santa in sight.

Ted nestled down in his Juicy Couture Pussy Palace while visions of life without New Cat danced around in his furry head.

Nestled all snug in his Juicy Couture Pussy Palace.

Seriously contemplating how to get rid of NC. I raise sweet cats.

A key for Santa was accompanied by my favorite treat.

Santa's fave.

Who wants milk when you can have Captain?

Christmas morning found Princess B playing her kick ass guitar from Auntie CBXB that makes all kinds of loud, annoying noise.

Rockstar in the making.

Rock star in the making.

While Prince B got his very own puppy from me.

Prince B got a puppy.

I almost wrapped up New Cat but settled on this instead.

And Princess B was so upset that she didn’t receive a stuffed dog too, she taught my mom a less by punching her in the face.

BItch slapping Mama CBXB for not gifting her a stuffed puppy.

WHERE’S MY PUPPY GIGI?!

And so she stole Prince B’s gift.

Mine. All mine.

Mine. All mine.

While I stole all of the chips and AE French Onion dip in the house.

'Tis the season of overeating....

‘Tis the season of overeating….

Which came in handy as I was leaving for Miami the following day.

Toes in the sand with my chip and dip gut.

Toes in the sand with my chip and dip gut.

But I visited the local Jewish Community Center where I tried to work off my Christmas caloric intake but couldn’t figure out how to use the damn equipment.

What the who?

Workout fail.

Trying to shed ten pounds in one morning didn’t really work out in my favor but that was OK as I was too busy kissing 2014 goodbye to care.

Kissing 2014 away!

I love you Captain.

I also got to hang with some real hipsters who obviously got all dolled up for the big night.

Hot friends

He had chips and dip over the holiday too.

And as it came down to the final seconds of 2014, I celebrated in my normal subtle way.

Double horns for double NYE excitement!

Double horns for double NYE excitement!

There was much to anticipate in the early days of 2015 – like one more Iowa Hawkeye football game. And while I wasn’t with my family to celebrate in our traditional game day ways, we still ‘tailgated’ together.

Representing the Hawks on the beach, bitch.

Representing the Hawks on the beach.

Overalls on in Tennessee

Overalls on in Tennessee.

Preparations for the game being made in Iowa by Prince B.

Preparations for the game being made in Iowa by Prince B.

Princess B could care.

While Princess B could give two shits about the upcoming game, as she was still busy with her brother’s puppy.

When the ominous clouds rolled in over the beach, I shoulda known what was going to happen as the Hawks have had a piss poor season. Even though we were playing an equally dismal team, the University of Tennessee Volunteers, I just knew it would be a good game, forgetting the fact that I attended one of the top party schools in the nation (according to a 2013 report). So I suppose fun in the sun got the better of my team.

Clouds rolled in...

Lightning did not strike for my Hawkeyes.

After a 21-0 Vols lead in the first quarter I was suddenly thrilled that I didn’t make any bets with the Tennessee fans around me. Finally in the third quarter of the game Iowa scored but still managed to make the Tennessee Vols look like a Superbowl team.

FINALLY a touchdown shot!

A much needed celebration touchdown shot.

The Vols had not won a post season game since 2008 and I was less than thrilled that my Hawkeyes were able to grant them a big W with a final score of 45-28. And so I did what any fan would do after losing a hideously named Taxslayer Bowl…

Drowning in my sorrows.

Drowning in my salt water sorrows.

Upon my arrival back to Nashville, I was greeted with fuck you flowers from my buddy and Vols fan, Camo.

Greeted back to Nashville with Tennessee colored flowers compliments of my buddy and Vols fan Camo. So sweet.

A masked insult in a lovely bouquet.

And I thought maybe 2015 wasn’t starting off on the right foot…

Maybe we didn't start the new year off on the right foot afterall...

Um, I think I miss you 2014.

Until I ran into my best friend at Dalts, which made everything right in the world again.

Captain to the rescue!

Skinny Pirates to the rescue!

So now I am back in love with the idea of a new year and I plan to kick 2015’s ass.

I hope you do, too.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

Hasta La Vista, Baby!

Look out Florida! I have my sequins and sunscreen packed, heading to Key West and Miami for the next week, where I’ll be basking at the beach while cabana boys deliver endless Skinny Pirates. Teddy is vacationing at his grandparents house where he’ll play with his two feline uncles and be spoiled rotten, coming back home with a catalogue of demands longer than Santa’s naughty list.

We had to get one last post in before our departure and wish everyone a fabulous weekend.  Naturally, Teddy wanted it to be all about him, as he admired himself in his handsome holiday tie (like the world revolves around him…oh wait…mine does – Jesus this cat knows me well) while scrolling through pictures.

Ted loving Ted

Ted loving Ted

So we leave you with happy Spring thoughts – if you hear of any breaking news in Florida, I had nothing to do with it.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Do These Boots Make My Calves Look Fat?

Why yes, yes they do.

Living in Nashville the closest department store we have that could be called semi-chic would be our teeny, tiny Nordstrom. While visiting Miami, I got giddy (like leave nose and finger prints on the outside glass window giddy) as I perused the luxury stores at the Bal Harbor Shops.  When I sat down to try on upscale (compared to my Nine West usuals) boots, I felt like Cinderella getting to try on fancy footwear I drool over online.

After about three seconds, I found my fairy tale boots.

Oh Baby

Oh yeah. I’m in Bal Harbor, pawing every boot in sight!

Oh the highly coveted red soles....sigh.

Oh the highly coveted red soles….sigh.

Then I slid my foot in, expecting for my life to be suddenly transformed when I zipped them up and strut about the store. And that’s when the storybook magic abruptly stopped.

So you're sayin' there's a chance?

The life changing moment.

And, my life was transformed. I discovered I had fat calves from f’ing running up Nashville hills and these boots would only zip for a rich, skinny calf. Now I was the ugly step sister, not Cinderella.

I wish I didn't run hills.

Look how far the zipper is from closing!

The clock didn’t even need to strike midnight before my boot dreams were dashed.

rats

Turning to pumpkins before my very eyes!

But never fear, my ultra generous Fairy Godmother appeared! And after a wave of her wand, I was gifted these fabulous, non-calf-discriminating boots (which are beyond gorgeous and way more my speed than the knee-high (or what I call hooker) boots)!

They look so good outside of my Laundry Wing

Thank God my ankles are skinny!

And poof!  I was transformed into the Belle of Chanel.

Now how do I ration calories from my calves?

Seriously. How?

CBXB

CBXB!

Trashy Track

While in Miami, I was fortunate enough to visit Gulfstream Racing and Casino Park. It’s an all-encompassing venue that includes horse races, a casino, shops, restaurants and bars. For me, it was sensory overload. I felt like Teddy seeing sequins reflecting off the wall (what is that? where did that go? which one should I chase first?).

But the best part (for me) was being able to sip a cocktail (surprise!) while casing the joint for our next adventure. So of course, I kept it classy, with a side of trashy tourist (I know you’re shocked) during my visit (I was just missing a gigantic camera with a long lens around my neck to complete my look).

I wanted to jump in the cage, just to run out of it.

On your mark…get set…I wanted to run behind the bars, just to ‘make an appearance’ as the doors flew open.

There was a scoreboard that I couldn’t read but had pretty palm trees all around, so of course a picture was snapped.

blah

The actual track seemed huge while they pranced the pretty ponies around (I took this picture for the poinsettias).

What horses?

Keeping my dream as a Price is Right model alive (I mean, did you see me hand gesture the hell out of a Bently? Better click here if you didn’t), I tried to look as spokesperson-like as possible by my favorite sign.

Much like my Price Is Right dream

Keepin’ the game show gesture model hope afloat!

Hello home away from home….

Called my name.

Calling my name.

As soon as I laid eyes on the tiki joint, I put a sold sign up by a chair.

Permanent Residency

Permanent residency.

Of course all of the sitting and drinking makes one hungry, so we shelled out the big bucks for the fanciest (worst) nachos in the history of the universe (and at every last crumb).

Nothing but the best, Clark.

Gut bomb.

We had to take a break from the nachos and horses to perform emergency sliver surgery. Don’t worry, we sterilized the needle with a lighter. High class, I know.

Emergency sliver surgery

Not sure how this was acquired but needed immediate removal. At the dining table.

Bored waiting on the horses to actually start trotting, we ventured to watch the teeny tiny jockeys (which made me feel as tall as Khloe Kardashian and I am 5’5″ on a good day) prepare to race at the Saddling Paddock. I wanted to ask to get my picture made with one of the jockeys but too terrified I would look like the Jolly Green Giant.

So, I took a picture of the sign instead.

We caught a glimpse of the horses as they were paraded around in a circle.

My favorite being paraded.

My favorite number 8! Really, I just like this one because it wore pink, duh.

blah

Look guys, more palm trees!

Once back at our seats we appeared so swanky, our endless movie quoting buddy (“remember that line from Airplane when…” kinda dude) stopped by our table so that we could place bets without having to get up from our very comfortable plastic chairs.

We were so swanky, our movie quoting buddy stopped by our table so we could place bets (then stopped at everyone else's, too).

So flattered…until he walked to the next table.

Our place betting friend only collected money, so we had to run (literally from excitement) to collect any winnings.

Running to collect his $2. Exciting!

Uncle Jimmy sprinting for his $2. Exciting!

I didn’t want to bet because I like keeping the money I have (to spend on Captain and clothes), so I went to the bar for another cocktail. And what I saw inspired me to immediately go on a liquid only diet.

Thinking my bar tender would look a little like the gentlemen who took bets, I decided I needed to double fist after this view.

Bartenders don’t look like this in Nashville.

To start my food cleanse, I decided it best to double up on the liquids.

Seeing her

Thank God I don’t bar tend in Miami!

Two handing vodka lead to an impromtu photo shoot of all surroundings.

Ooh a tractor in MIami definitely calls for a picture, right?

A tractor in Miami definitely calls for a picture, right?

I acted like I’d never seen a tattoo sleeve in my life when I walked briskly behind this guy to get a picture.  Any closer and his girlfriend might have decked me.

Acting like I'd never seen a snake or tattoo sleeve in my life, I took a picture - like any good tourist would do!

SECURITY!

And I tried to have a little swagger as I moved around the place, trying to look like I ‘fit in.’

Just prancing around the track

Who me? I’m a local.

I never made an appearance in the casino but really wished I did when I saw what playing the quarter slots could land.

Where this dude spends most of his days..

Where this dude spends most of his days.

Hundred dollar bills, y’all!

Aunt Eenie was the big winner by playing the quarter slots!

Drinks on Aunt Eenie!

Anyone got a quarter I could borrow?

CBXB

Miami Moments

Coming down off of my Miami high proves to be difficult as the ‘winter’ weather (people here act like 40 degrees is sub-zero) rages on in Nashville.

I saw this sign in Juicy Couture at the Aventura Mall (LOVE this place) and wished I could rip it off the wall but my purse wasn’t big enough to stash it in.

I need this for my mini manse.

I NEED this for my mini manse.

While on a stroll around a neighborhood, I saw the house (or the roof really) Ricky Martin just sold.

Here's what shaking your hips will get you in Miami.

Here’s what shaking your hips will get you in Miami.

Beautiful bodies were all around in the Miami heat.

The view from my beach chair was amazing!

The view from my beach chair was amazing!

Drooling is always a must while browsing the posh stores nowhere near Nashville.

Hello!

Hello!

On the flight home, the couple in the seat in front of me had on matching hats.  They had to lift their front brims every time they smooched (once every three minutes).  While some may think this situation was adorable, I wanted to tell them to take it to the plane’s bathroom.

Barf

Teddy and I need matching head accessories now.

While collecting my luggage, I caught a glimpse of what looked like the mother of all strollers.

blah

Fancy wheels.

Turns out, it was a stroller – for three dogs. And, I thought I was a crazy lady (although I’m pretty sure Ted needs a stroller to accompany me everywhere now).

A fluffy crowd indeed.

A fluffy crowd indeed.

The sight of the little fur balls made me miss my own all the more. Here’s the glimpse of the view I caught while walking up my front steps.

Tail Whip

Tail whip.

And the warm welcome I received from TB.

Where the hell have you been?

Where the hell have you been?

While he’s all sweetness now, he will be hell on wheels in the very near future, punishing me for being gone consecutive days (although he was spoiled rotten at his grandparent’s house – so don’t fall for that pitiful face).

A much needed Skinny Pirate also welcomed me home.

Much needed SP from my beloved Dalts.

Showing me the love.

After a couple SPs, I got a good night’s sleep with my clingy cat (which of course we all know I love and adore the attention).

blah blah blah

Teddy, acting like we’ve been apart for three years.

And finally, I received this photo from my mini me’s mom. I thought I might burst from laughing so hard when I read the explanation that accompanied the image:

“A puppet of you. Complete with pink highlights and red lipstick – plus giant hoop earrings on the side. Made on the airplane. Creative use of barf bag.”

Never so flattered.

Never so flattered.

You know you’re somebody when your image ends up on a barf bag.

CBXB

Cheers to a New Year!

Spending the last day of the year on a Miami beach was a tough feat.

Sunglasses always do the trick.

Squeezing out the last bit of 2012 fun.

And I didn’t mind gazing at this gorgeous sunset as I sipped on my happy hour cocktails (booze makes primping so much more fun).

Hard times with a night in Miami

See ya 2012!

Choosing a vodka proved to be as difficult as narrowing down a sparkly ring from Cartier (although I somehow managed).

I cheated on my Skinny Pirates with vodka

Cheating on my Skinny Pirates with Grey Goose.

I had a little help from my favorite Miami Meower, Butterscotch in the attire department.

Wardrobe assistant

Vocal wardrobe assistant (don’t tell Ted)!

I settled on black sequined pants (duh), a fuchsia cardigan and leopard heels, (and yes, that’s my heel in my cup which didn’t deter this party goer from drinking – why would I waste?!).

Nothing but class with bare feet in the posh elevator!

Isn’t everyone chic in Miami (aside from yours truly as I’ve proven)? Here’s a peek at my favorite bartender of the evening, pouring me a much needed glass (or five) of champs.

Bartender Miami Chic

Miami’s version of Hugh Hefner.

And while looking at this handsome Florida gent, I wondered what I was missing in Nashville, as the phone buzzed with a picture of my dad and my curiosity quickly waned.

or Nashville Geek

Miami chic or Nashville geek? Tough choice!

Obviously, you can’t take Nashville out of the girl as I carried my red Solo Cup with me down the elevator.

Red Solo Cups are so chic - only in Miami.

Red Solo Cups are so fancy – in Toby Keith songs.

I realized my true calling during my jaunt to the car…

look but don't touch

Game show gesture model!

I just kept getting better and better as I tried to get ascloseaspossible to this Bentley without spending my New Year’s Eve in the Miami Dade County Jail.

Yes, now I want to work on the Price is Right.

Yes, now I want to work on the Price is Right.

All of the car modeling made me thirsty and I needed to quickly guzzle a martini when we arrived at the bar.

Martini mania

Soothing the three minutes of modeling work.

And after each drink was received, a toast was in order – it was New Year’s Eve after all!

Our 1,345th toast of the evening.

Our 1,345th cheers of the evening.

Which of course led to my expertise in photo bombing (a dying art).

model

Almost 2013!

And as the clock struck midnight and Ryan Seacrest winked at me, I was pretty sure this is how the evening went…

Although my dreams looked like this...

A handsome group.

Drinking 432 martinis will help you acquire double chin while you sleep (not so good for my modeling career), as well as require a sign to arise from deep, dark (passed out) slumber.

Drinking 432 martinis will give you a double chin while you sleep, as well as require a sign for your to arise from slumber.

WAKE UP!

A brand new year, same old me.

CBXB

CBXB!