Weekend Winks – Abu Dhabi Derby Day

Ever wonder just how cliché it is to be a crazy cat lady?

Well, here is a peek into a wild Friday evening with me and my fave pussies.

You may just see two cats.

Rocky and Ted with front row lap seats.

We found ourselves minus plans after staying late the last day of the work week, so we huddled on the couch to catch up on some DVR (before my player spontaneously combusts at always being asked to remain 99% full). Except when we went to watch our weekly shows, a rerun of an Adele concert was on live TV.

But we're all watching live TV. A rerun A adele

And it captivated all of us.

Then between sobs, listening to Adele pine away at whatever it is her magical voice pines for, we tried to call every ex-boyfriend and girlfriend between the six of us (yes I have five furballs – and no, I give zero fucks about what folks think in regard, hence the crazy cat lady label!) because it seemed like the right thing to do.

Adele told us to.

S.O.S.

S.O.S.

After getting zero ex answers across the board (Teddy had the most to call), we woke to a bright, shiny Kentucky Derby Saturday. No one was more excited than Princess B who has discovered the many ‘looks’ Snapchat has to offer (why does my three-year-old niece know more about social media than moi?).

Derby Darling

Derby Darling.

I met up with Bird Lady, using the excuse for the Derby to day drink although we didn’t really adhere to any of the fancy rules.

No horses. No tiny jockeys. No hats. No mint juleps. Still fun

No horses. No tiny jockeys. No hats. No mint juleps.

However, I did place a bet on the race.  Since money is an object to me, I wagered a shot and when this kind gentlemen lost miserably, he paid in full. And now I have a new favorite shot: The Fresca.

I only bet booze. And I won.

I only bet booze.

And somehow this teeny tiny Abu Dhabi bar mug ended up in my purse by the end of the evening.

Trophy of sorts.

Trophy of sorts.

Sunday was for lovin’ on all of the mamas and mine was showered with flowers.

CBXB flower power mama.

The power of flower.

My sister was getting extra specially spoiled on her third mother’s day with a manicure, compliments of Princess B.

Princess B has mastered the Mother;s Day mani.

Just like the spa.

Obviously.

Obviously.

Bored Prince B waited patiently for the paint to dry on his mother’s nails so she could be off doing better things.

Can't be bothered.

Like pushing these two in a tire swing.

IMG_1754

Mother’s Day isn’t just for those chicks who have squeezed human life out of their bodies.

No way. No how.

Do you know how hard it is to open a bag of food every damn day?

Scoop a littler box?

Give every little furry being their own attention before they ignore you for 23.75 hours per day?

Exhausting.

Sweet friends reminded me of my status in the world.

Turns out, for us cray cray fur ball ladies, you really can buy love.

Turns out, you can buy love.

Preshy thinks so too.

Preshy thinks so too.

There was no better wind down for this mom of five than my sudsy Sunday soak while everyone was participating in their 23.75 hour daily ignore fest.

Just what a mama needs.

Just what a mama needs.

Here’s hoping you got just what you needed this weekend.

Cheers!
CBXB

CBXB!

 

The Leaning Tower of Pussies

All I wanted for Mother’s Day from my two cats was a decent photo of my fur balls together.

Surely you know by now that Teddy is a superstar and deems himself worthy of royal credentials. New Cat on the other hand could care less about being in the spotlight and makes damn sure I’m aware at all times.

All love.

I’ve apparently adopted the Lindsay Lohan of cats.

The following photoshoot took place in 12 seconds and may be the only pic I ever get of the three of us.

Wrangling two fully clawed pussy cats up to my face proved to be a fun treat. While all of the hoisting was taking place, NC was extremely vocal about his disdain of making lasting memories while Tedstar put on his finest pissy face for the camera.

Happy?

Bitch. Bitch. Bitch.

As I forcefully hugged them closer to my face, NC became an expert wiggler and Mr. Bear remained dead weight.

Forced.

Wiggle while you work.

Just as I thought we’d gotten the heebee jeebees out of our newest resident, Mr. Tuxedo decided to play ‘light as a feather stiff as a board’ which turned me into a human teeter totter.

Is this love that I'm feeling?

Leaning Tower of Pussies.

I started to over correct my lean and our trio almost went overboard.

Overboard

Our version of the classic Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell movie poster.

Just as I was about to scold New Cat for not being able to dedicate 30 seconds to me on Mother’s Day, I realized the true culprit of this photo mess.

Of course it was none other than Mr. Ted E. Bear himself, pushing NC right out of the spotlight.

Spotlight stealer.

Scene stealer.

And The Bear got just what he wanted.

Still pissy faced.

Solo pissy face pic.

Not surprised, are you?

Meeeow.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

Weekend Winks – Losing It

Planning to spend a relaxing Mother’s Day weekend around the mini manse with my two fur balls (yes, I celebrate this special day of moms even though I don’t have my own humans – I’m assuming your card is in the mail to me?) took an unexpected turn with my innate ability to act stereotypically blonde.

Quiet time with my two pussies.

“Quiet” time with my two pussies much to New Cat’s dismay.

Is there a better way to spend a Friday night than taking in a movie (after mixing cocktails in the bathroom – I know it sounds so disgusting but seriously alcohol kills the germs, right? RIGHT?) on its opening weekend?

Little Friday night fun in the theater.

A little Friday night theater fun.

The film of choice was Neighbors, starring Zac Efron (and some other people) which may or may not be the entire reason I wanted to go and see this flick.

Um, yes please.

Um, yes please.

Mr. Dreamboat’s blue eyes apparently put me in trance, as I somehow managed to lose my cell phone between the movie theater and my mini manse. Naturally I didn’t realize this until Saturday morning when I went to grab the device from its usual resting spot by my sleeping head. Then I nonchalantly sauntered over to my purse to retrieve my mini lifeline that I must have forgotten to take out of my purse the previous evening.

No dice.

Retracing every single high-heeled step from Friday night, I morphed into a Tasmanian devil tearing my mini manse apart. After five hours of scouring my trash cans, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom drawers, couch cushions, in the piano, under the bed, in the freezer, through dirty laundry, in Teddy’s food bowl, behind every piece of furniture under the roof, outside of the balcony AND through my car, I looked like a deranged lunatic in dire need of a bottle of booze.

Luck of the Irish my ass

I surrender.

Throwing up the white flag, I traipsed over to the phone store and became a new owner of a slick phone. Problem is I have no one’s contact information or any of the 1,463,092 photos I hoarded over the past two years.  But this is an experience I’ve mustered through before when roughly 700 days ago, I accidentally ran over my phone and got to start from scratch on the information train.

Having a shiny new piece of technology with no protective gear started to make me sweat, so I zipped over to the mall where I intended on getting a snazzy new Juicy Couture (my mothership of shopping) phone case. Only thing is, I’ve apparently lost my Juicy store here in Nashville.

JUICY?!

No warning. No signs. No explanation. No goodbye?!

Standing dumbfounded in the mall, feelings of retail despair crept over my being and I did the only thing I could think to do…share a cocktail with a gal pal.

Quenching my losing thirst.

Quenching my losing thirst with First Mate.

In between the snapping of this photo and a trip to the bathroom, I lost one of my fave sterling silver earrings that I’d splurged on with holiday money.  I also lost a gold button off of my blouse and acquired strange looks when asking staff if they could see either missing item (on a dark restaurant floor). I was falling apart at the seams…

Sunday morning was all giggles and smiles from the twins in Iowa.

These two love birds

Love birds.

It’s hard to believe that one year ago on Mother’s Day my niece and nephew looked like two roly polies that could hardly turn their chubby necks from one side to another.

Just roly polys a year ago.

Prince B and Princess B.

Being that I’m a mom to two fur balls, I was commanded to make an appearance on the porch in order to retrieve my gift. God forbid someone lift a paw.

Come and get it.

Come and get it.

Joining up for a date day with my mama, I was filling her in on all of my minor losses over the weekend when the heel cap of my shoe came off in the crack of a sidewalk (thank God I didn’t break my mom’s back) as we were walking downtown. Luckily for no one, I spent the rest of the day sounding like a half-assed tap dancer clip clapping my way all over the city.

Clip clop the wonder horse.

Balancing on a screw is fun.

Slightly limping my way through the streets of Nashville due to my heels being uneven, we went to see Million Dollar Quartet at the Tennessee Performing Arts Center. And holy shit was it fabulous.

I over enjoyed myself so much that the man in front of us turned around after the show and said, “Who was screaming so loud? Never thought to bring ear plugs to a Broadway musical,” as I pointed to my mother.

Mom's Day fun.

You’ll think you’re seeing Elvis for real and lose your shit. And your voice from screaming.

While we ended our day on a high note of fresh margaritas from a local restaurant, I managed to keep everything in tact for the remainder of the weekend.

Happy

Living it up with my fave mama.

I thought my minor losses were behind me until I appeared at work and lost air conditioning in my office on a 90 degree day.

Here’s hoping I don’t lose my marbles (or anything else for that matter) by Friday…

CBXB

CBXB!