Summer Shenanigans

When I heard the grand jury decided to drop my Rapegate case against The Rapist due to lack of evidence, I was bummed – maybe more numb – to say the least. This meant that it was truly over. The criminal portion anyway. Because whether I like it or not, the aftermath of this trauma is still something that I grapple with daily – and know that I always will. But instead of staying cemented where I was upon receiving this news (on my leopard couch, with Ted on my chest naturally) I inched ahead as life proves it stops for no one.

I got this.

After finding myself jobless at the beginning of the 2017, (nothing like being the most impatient person on the planet, waiting for an excruciatingly slow criminal system with nothing but free time on my hands!) I finally landed a new gig. Hey-oh!

Think they get me? More pink please!

A positive work environment is such a welcomed change from what I’ve experienced the past two years – a bully with too much power feasting on the misery of others and a washed up, drugged out psycho who failed to wear any undergarments to work for a boss. This job is a big score for me!

With the help of family and very close friends, I stayed afloat financially – paid my rent, my car note, fed my fur balls and made a much needed trip to Iowa to see family. Less than a year ago, the Dumb to My Dumber, Aunt Crazy Pants, was suddenly diagnosed with terminal cancer after going in for a hip issue.

Can you tell we’re related?

While it has proven a difficult road (as cancer is nothing short of a fucking motherfucker), her attitude and determination to maintain a semblance of her normal life has shown me strength like no other. We watched my Nashville Predators hockey team comethisclose to winning the Stanley Cup together.

Who doesn’t quilt while watching sports?

We even went out and about to grace her presence at the local Mexican restaurant where she is basically a celebrity after a round of treatment.

Three amigos.

Please keep Aunt Crazy Pants in your thoughts, as she’s now under hospice care in her own home. Although, she hasn’t lost her sense of humor.

Her best “Ouiser” impression from the movie, Steel Magnolias.

While back in the Hawkeye State, I also got to see the two peeps who never cease to put a smile on this face.

Princess B was going to frolic her way through her first dance recital and I put my heavily honed make-up skills to work, as her first go-round wasn’t quite the desired outcome.

Her method.

Our shared method.

 

Sheer perfection. And she fucking knows it.

Due to the sellout of the recital, Prince B and I stayed behind for a snuggle date after a little Star Wars walkie-talkie fun.

No Princess Leia here.

Snuggle monsters.

After the babes went down that evening, the adults got into cocktails and had our own recital, reliving dance moves from show choir past.

Sis still has the moves. Obvies.

Catching up with two of my Iowa gal pals it felt like I’d just seen them the week prior, when I hadn’t seen them in a few years. Isn’t that the best feeling?

Fresh start to the evening.

Guess which one of us has our shit together?

Margaritas with mom rounded out my trip before I headed back below the Mason Dixon Line.

In between trying to figure out my headset attached to my work phone…

You guys, seriously. How does Britney Spears do it?

…and lounging weekends away at the pool…

Bring Your Own Boxed Wine,

…the cat cuddling has been heavy-duty.

Spending the majority of the Fourth inside due to rain didn’t quash my celebratory spirit in the slightest.

Red, white and shoes!

With a little red, white and booze.

However, up in Iowa, the spirits weren’t as joyful.

The Nashville weather even cleared up enough for our small trio to head up to the pool, guzzle some cocktails, order a pizza and watch the largest display of fireworks in the nation from a distance.

Keeping it classy!

Back at it after a holiday, I still can’t figure my fucking headset out.

Being blonde is hard.

But it’s nothing a cocktail and a bubble bath can’t fix.

Cheers to the second half of summer!

CBXB

 

Weekend Winks – Rapegate, Pool Parties and Fang Fingers

You guys really know how to help a gal when she’s down and out! The overflowing abundance of support from my Rapegate post restored any questionable faith in humanity I may have had prior to posting. Not only was writing about the trauma cathartic for me, as now the matter is out in the open and I can talk about it, but also I didn’t expect the feelings of relief – conflicted with a little bit of fear when I hit the ‘publish’ button on the post.

What’s a gal who likes to celebrate do with mixed emotions and feelings of waves as large of a tsunami? She cracks open a bottle of champs given to her by gal pal Saving Grace (I was saving it for a momentous occasion – and this felt like one) while bawling and laughing at the same time. Yes, I’m still a hot mess.

Cheers to the release of yesteryear! Oh, and of course, FUCK 2016.

The outpouring of your support – my army that each and every one of you reading right now is a part of – lifted me up so high, so fast I just can’t thank you enough for the kind words, comments, messages, cards, letters, sharing of your own traumas, calls, texts and visits. While I might be Captain Sparkly Pants, you all have been nothing short of soldiers supporting one of their own. For that, I thank the fuck out of you.

Every single portion of Rapegate has been riddled with road bumps. So it’s onward and upward as I move forward, navigating unknown terrain even to my Sex Crimes Detective. We’ll get that worked out, I’m sure.

The wrong woman was fucked. Literally and figuratively.

Warm fuzzies are creeping back into the cracks of my emotions. My heart swelled a little when my phone reminded me over the weekend of cherished moments my sister and Gma shared on the last days of our grandma’s life. Of course, I had a picture of my stank-eyed pussy Ted, too, from that day.

Three of my favorite peeps still today.

When I texted the photos to my sister, we talked about how fast it’s gone – feeling like maybe it should be the first year.

It’s true. In two years, our extended family has gone through two divorces, a birth (yay!), rape (that’d be mine), cancer (that’d be Aunt Crazy Pants), a cross-country move for a cousin….just to name a few.

While reminiscing over the last two years, Facebook had an amusing memory from five years ago of Dada CBXB and I having a patio party, after we’d done some planting (in pots, to which didn’t make of course).

Funny, we already had plans to ‘decorate’ my mini manse loggia (fancy word I learned from a previous, rich employer that means back porch as I kept saying back porch and she kept correcting me that it was a loggia). So we hit up the flower hot spot for ferns, all pink flowers and some sort of palm thing that is going to go great with my pink flamingo (of course a gal like me has plant accessories before the actual plant).

Green thumbs galore.

Because that thirty minutes was so exhausting, we spent the rest of the day playing at the pool.

Fun fun in the sun.

My favorite pussy also likes to relax in the rays but I just can’t help myself and have to take a picture. This is always the glare I get when I get caught mid snap.

Resting bitchy face with a case of the side eye.

Wanna know what those two Iowa twins are up to? Well, first off they have graduated from pre-school.

Get out the caps and gowns.

Naturally, this meant celebrating was in order and they didn’t hate one minute of it.

Starting with snow cones.

Celebration splash pad style.

Their parents even took them to see where it all began. At the bar in Iowa City, where my sister approached her future husband at the very booth below for a cigarette (obviously the trashtacular classiness runs in the family). He didn’t smoke (neither did she) but it all worked out and here we are today…

Taking it back to where all of the magic began.

Being that they’d visited a festival, Princess B had to get her face painted – and clearly thought it was poorly done as you can see from the photo below.

Hello gorgeous.

Graduating from pre-school also calls for dessert.

Sweets for the sweets.

Dessert that was good to the last drop.

Yep. Definitely takes after her aunt CBXB.

Something else seeping back in through the cracks of this gal is nail painting and t-shirt bedazzling. Nashville’s NHL team, the Nashville Predators have made it to the Stanley Cup finals (for those of you who don’t know hockey – it’s like the Superbowl. For those of you who don’t know what that is, just look at the nails and sparkly shirt below) for the first time ever in our franchise’s history. I joined in on the fanfare with Predator colored nails and blinged up a shirt to boot.

Fang Fingers is what the crowd does here in Nashville when the opposing team has to go to the penalty box. They play the music from the shower scene in Psycho and fans seriously stand there and move two fingers from both hands in a clawing motion. We may look like ass clowns but we don’t care. Also, I was so pumped to get this shirt because aside from getting to see our mascot Gnash come down from the ceiling before every game, I can’t ever wait to do Fang Fingers.

All out sparkle for my fave Cinderella NHL team.

The Predators were on no one’s radar and have had the heart, fight and spirit of Nashville behind them. For real, the entire city could not be more proud. This is a photo of the main artery in Nashville on game day. It stemmed from the stadium with an overflow of people who couldn’t get in to the game (due to the insane ticket prices) down ten blocks to the river. Not to mention the packed bars and restaurants.

Game day in Smashville.

While the Preds are behind in the series 2-1, you can help cheer them on with me at 7pm CST on NBCSN.  They whooped some ass on Saturday with final score being 5-1. Badasses.

Speaking of badass, here’s how I pumped up my mental state closing out the weekend.

The inner badass is coming back…

You guys are my badasses. My army of badasses. I love each and every one of you.

Hooah!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Snoop Dogg, Fang Fingers and Flat Tires

When a gal pal wants to treat you to a night out for a belated birthday par-tay, why in the world would you say no? Of course we know I said yes, especially when the evening involved a Snoop Dogg concert. I was especially excited to escape from my reality after some particularly bad news came my way last week. A girl’s night out was just what this chick needed.

I over packed and lugged my beauty bag, taking over Funk 49’s kitchen counter to gussy up for a rainy night out in Nashville.

Yes, my bag of beauty tricks includes alcohol. Doesn’t yours?

Known for my booblegging skills at public events where liquor is priced like it’s solid gold, the glass below may or may not be Pepsi.

Sneaky sneaky.

The night was so full of fun that I forgot what a shit show my life has been for the past 24 months.

Problems? What problems?

After the concert, I didn’t want the night to end so I borrowed my Uber driver’s coffee on the way back to Funk 49’s house for a little perk me up.

Don’t worry. We gave him five stars – and I gave him back his coffee.

We kicked off our rainboots and did what ever girl party does after an evening out – ordered two pizzas for three ladies.

Hubba Hubba.

Upon stuffing my pie hole with at least 1.5 of the pizzas, I tried to coax Funk 49’s dog, Buddy, to lay with me in his bed…I don’t know why he seemed so annoyed.

My version of doggy style.

So I settled for a little downtime the following day with my own puppy Presh.

Prescription sunglasses are the only way to go when rehydrating on a Saturday morning.

While I was hunkered down in my Princess and the Pea bed, the Iowa twins were stuck inside for a third day in a row due to rain storms. So what did my genius sis do? She turned the garage into a bike bonanza for four-year-olds.

Rec room.

The Nashville Predators are in the NHL playoffs and my crew settled in for the third game of the series against the St. Louis Blues. Rocky, Princess Elsa Pants and Ted proved three times a charm, as the Preds skated their way to a 3-1 victory.

Fang Fingers.

I nestled into a Sunday full of job searching, #girlbossing, therapy homework, with a side of Glamour.

Sunday Funday.

No weekend would be complete without an evening full of leopard couch time with Ted – who now has his own personal shadow named Elsa Pants.

Forced Sunday snuggles – with extreme patience.

I found out that my first furry friend in Nashville crossed over to the Rainbow Bridge last night. Caesar was my constant companion when I worked as a personal assistant for a family when I first moved to Music City. He was my only “co-worker” and kept me company so many lonely nights in a new city. Love and miss you little guy.

Trying to keep the wheels from falling off my fragile state of mind, I hit the alarm early for a 7am yoga class today. But about .0005 seconds into the commute, I was t-boned in my parking lot, causing my chariot to come to an immediate halt for the time being.

No zen in sight on this Monday.

I decided it best to switch my morning coffee for something a tad stronger while on the phone with my insurance company.

A bloody mary to help ease spiked blood pressure.

So while I seem to be running into a tad of misfortunes lately, I can’t help but wonder…

I’m wide open for suggestions.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – Snoozin’ and Boozin’

There’s really never a dull moment in Nashville, unless you want there to be one (but what fun is that?!) so the weekend kicked off in full force at an NHL game where I met my hockey soul mate, Bob.

Me and my Predator's squeeze...Bob.

Bob the fan referee and his classy new sidekick who swiped his fedora.

Speaking of classy, aren’t the chicks who continuously take selfies in the stands beyond annoying?

Water is awesome.

We know.

I am a gigantic fan of snail mail – and an even bigger fan when a package is sent my way. Especially when it involves Christmas AND my Iowa Hawkeyes. So I was beyond excited to rip open this gift from my sister upon my return from the ice rink.

Score!

Gifts just because make my world go round.

A little box of heaven.

SCORE!

While we’re on the subject of Iowa, you know I think my twins are the shit (well, because they just are) but not simply because they’re related to me (let’s be real – how lucky can they be?). My heart tends to burst with pride purely calling them my niece and nephew but when they seem to follow in Auntie CBXB’s footsteps – well, that almost makes my head pop off.

Just a model

While Prince B mugs it up for the camera…

Hey-oh!

…Princess B knows the exact timing for a perfect photo bomb.

Skills run in the fam.

The mad skills run in the family. Obviously.

It wouldn’t be a fall weekend without a whole lotta college football fun and my mini manse was geared up and ready to go for some Iowa Hawkeye domination on Saturday.

Tailgate time!

Tailgate time!

Being that Iowa has been a severely mediocre team at best the past five seasons, to keep the games interesting Dada CBXB and I instilled the fine family tradition of doing a shot of moonshine after each Hawkeye touchdown a few years ago.

Little did we ever assume, believe, know that our fellas in black and gold would ever score more than four touchdowns in a single game…

Shot #1

Shot #1

Shot #2

Shot #2

Shot #3

Shot #3

Shot #4

Shot #4

Somewhere in between touchdown six and seven, we lost count…

Winning is exhausting.

Winning is exhausting.

But not really!

But not really!

You’d think a final victorious score of 62-16 would impress anyone but of course my pissy pussy Ted could have given two shits.

Annoyed

Who gives a flying fuck about football? Rub my belly bitch.

I’m pretty sure the evil eye bracelet my buddy brought back to me from Greece had something to do with my spectacular weekend full of shenanigans.

I'm never taking this off.

I’m never taking this off.

Evil juju be damned!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – Super Bowl and Sequins

A Nashville weekend jam-packed with sports, sequins and kitty cats.

Sounds like a dream come true, doesn’t it?

It's not a Super Bowl without a few sparkly sequins.

It’s not a Super Bowl without a few sequins.

Friday found me attending a Nashville Predators hockey game, where I had full expectations of yet another disappointing loss. However much to my delight, the Preds defeated the New Jersey Devils in overtime. Holla!

Fang fingers!

Fang fingers!

The win deserved to be celebrated, so my group trekked down Broadway looking for any establishment that didn’t have a two-mile line to get in. When we solidified our spot, everyone before our group and everyone after our group was carded. No one in our gang needed to whip out their ID as the bouncer said, “You’re with this guy?(a friend with few strands of gray hair) He’s old enough, I’m sure you are too.” Tear.

Reminiscing

Reminiscing about the good old days of looking under 21.

Inquiring minds have been asking about New Cat (a freezing stray that showed up at our door a few weeks back), who is still in residence under my roof. You know how folks say after three days company starts smelling a little fishy? Then you can only imagine how Ted is feeling about New Cat after three weeks….

House guest smelling a little fish to TEd

A real, live shadow for Teddy.

While I thought New Cat was enjoying his warm, cozy digs I second guessed that notion after catching him trying to commit suicide from my second balcony porch this weekend.

Suicide attempt

Only nine lives there, NC.

On a side note, this is really one of the sweetest, cuddliest cats I’ve ever seen. In the market for a little fur baby? I’ll drive him to a fabulous home…

Ever go dumpster diving? I didn’t think it was really a sport until I saw this set of glasses calling my name from the neighborhood trash can.  Couldn’t help but slam on the brakes and carefully load my new glasses into the car.

One man's trash is apparently my treasure

Trashy treasure for me!

My two little Iowa rug rats were so excited for the Super Bowl that they stood up and cheered about it on Sunday morning.

A standing ovation on Super Bow day.

A standing ovation for football.

While the twins were busy giving their legs a workout, my favorite feline was busy soaking in all of the fun from the Kitten Bowl.

Me and my MVP

Me and my MVP.

Of course there were parties to attend in honor of football’s biggest night.  Remember how I said it’s not a Super Bowl without sequins? I meant to also include Jell-O shots in that statement.

Jell-O! Remember how I said what's a super bowl without sequins? I meant Jell-I too.

Ain’t no party like a Super Bowl party…

I elbowed my way up to the well stocked bar as soon as I made my grand entrance.

Bee line to the bar.

Too bad there’s no liquor to consume.

Guess which glass I chose to guzzle from the entire evening?

Size matters

Size matters.

When the whistle blew, we had our game faces on.

Game face on.

Nice grill.

The spread of food would have easily covered a football field.

Food galore.

It keeps going…

And more...

…and going….

Oyster appearance

…and going….

Bets and tasty footballs

…and going…

Did I mention that there were Jell-O shots?

Did I mention Jell-O?

No pressure but you should probably have one. Or five.

While the game started to suck shit even before halftime, our crowd was ready for some Bruno Mars entertainment.

Bruno ready!

Bring us Bruno, baby!

Hello Lovah.

80 inches of one fabulously fine performer.

While no one likes to see a Super Bowl blow out, there’s really only one thing you can do to keep from being bored…

Celebrate Bruno the only way I know how.

Jell-O. For winners, losers and boredom.

Even sweet Buddy the dog was forced to sniff the gelatinous goodness due to the snooze fest of a game.

Buddy was even

No worries. I did Buddy’s shot for him.

A few rounds of Jell-O made even the dreariest of commercials hilarious.

Wishing I was this happy this am....

Game? What game?

Wishing I was feeling that happy on this Monday morning…

Congrats to the Seattle Seahawks!

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Cougar Style

A little honky tonkin’, hockey and hootenanny in Nashville this weekend….

After a few happy hour Skinny Pirates, I headed to the hockey game – and you know that meant a little bathroom bartending…

Don't tell I'm up to no good.

Thank God alcohol kills germs, right? Right?!

My Nashville Predators beat the Edmonton Oilers 6-0. Yeehaw!

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Welcome to Smashville!

Saturday greeted me with a package from my blogging gal pal, Nicola from Nail Art For Funn.  She sent so many goodies from Korea, I can hardly wait to try all of the fun on my weekly Sunday night nail nights!

While out and about with visiting family, I came across an ancient artifact – my uncle’s phone.

Ancient history

Yes, it still works.

Saturday evening led to family fun night at my favorite Nashville honky tonk, Robert’s Western World.  I re-created my Hardee’s modeling bit (click here to read about my first time) while eating the oh-so-delicious burger…

Hardee's burger model, take 2.

Hardee’s burger model, take 2.

I ran into (OK, minorly stalked if I’m being honest here) the fastest playing fiddler in all of Tennessee, Joshua Hedley.

My favorite fiddle player

Cowboy Josh and a crazy fan.

And what to my wondering ears did appear but a 17-year-old guitar player full of good cheer.

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This kid rocks.

While I don’t typically pine for guys younger than yours truly, I couldn’t help but swoon over this kick ass pickin’ kid, promptly turning into a cougar.

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On the prowl – look out!

All of the Saturday night shenanigans led to a Sunday morning full of sunglasses and snuggling.

blah

Yes. I needed the shades that badly.

Upon recovery, I headed back downtown with my family to see downtown Nashville in the daylight, where I set my sights on the most wonderful thing imaginable…a bar on wheels.  All you have to do is pedal while drinking to cruise the streets (I of course would need to sit on someone’s lap while they pedaled for me – I’m a high heel (and obviously high maintenance) wearin’ boozer).

Drink and pedal.

Drinking + pedaling = no cocktail calories counted.

A little BBQ action at Rippy’s for my endlessly starving 14-year-old cousin, C-dawg. Seriously, this kid talks about food as much as I rant and rave about Ted.

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Feed me….again!

And remember me as a spitting image of Elvis?  I so badly wanted to keep the costume in order to continually prance around as The King but the upkeep of a white jumpsuit would be a nightmare.

As Elvis

Hunka hunka burnin’ …. love?

But I found the next best thing at a shop downtown –

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PJs perfect for prancing around!

Guess what you’ll be seeing on this blog in the near future?

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks

A fun Friday night out to see the Nashville Predators take on the Vancouver Canuks.

First mate and fang fingers

First Mate and I hanging at the arena bar (I mean, where else would we meet?)!

To keep the cost of drinks down (arena prices are $7 for a single, $14 for a double and you all know what I’d order), I stash my own flask and become a very germaphobe bar tender in a bathroom stall.

Don't tell I'm up to no good.

Up to no good.

The toilet paper dispenser acts as my bar, I stuff the lid in my mouth (to keep germs at bay) and pour out half of the Sprite (it was a vodka night) in the toilet (being sure to keep the cup three feet above the seat).

Classy bathroom bar.

Classy bathroom bar with an even classier bar tender.

I have a thing for mascots. I mean a crazy lady thing (which won’t come as a surprise when I tell you that the Preds mascot is a giant cat).  Here’s my boyfriend, Gnash making his appearance, repelling down from the ceiling.

My boyfriend, Gnash

He’s such a stud.

With great seats and a vodka filled cup, fun times were had although the Preds lost 1-0.

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Even Carrie Underwood’s pretty husband (yes, he’s pretty, not handsome) couldn’t help the team score.

Even Carrie Underwood's pretty hubs couldn't help.

But Mike Fisher was fun to oogle over anyhow.

Being the fashion diva I think I am, what about this ensemble…backpack, knee-length (which look good on…who?) Mom shorts and sneakers with no socks?

Enough to drive me to drink! So I did.

Upon leaving the game and heading toward the honky tonks, this gentleman kindly reminded the crowd that if you don’t live a clean life, you’ll go to hell.

In case you were wondering

In case you were wondering…

Where do you think I’ll go?

Heaven or Hell?

Heaven or Hell?

Once again at Robert’s Western World (for the second time in two days…think the band members are pretty sure I’m stalking them), The Don Kelley Band   played my favorite dancing song – only this time I didn’t have to dance alone (read all about it here).

This time around, my dancing skills scored me a crisp $100 bill.

Tip money!

OK, really someone’s friend wanted to buy us a round but gave me the dough, so I pretended it was a tip. (A girl can dream about her dancing skills!)

The overload of cocktail money caused me to pull double duty on the drinks.

Art of double fisting. Classy!

Art of the double fist.

Due to the amounts of liquor consumed, Friday was a late night and Teddy was a little bitch on Saturday because I’d interrupted his beauty sleep at 2am.

Not a happy camper.

Not a happy camper.

As I was gearing up for my Saturday evening events, I chose some new kicks to debut.  Only thing is they creaked with every single step I took.

WD40 please

Is there a WD-40 for boots?

A quick happy hour with gal pals to commence my Saturday festivities.

Friends and cocktails good way to begin Saturday evening

Another round please!

Seeing my very favorite bar tender – who pours Skinny Pirates perfectly (he’s actually the one who nailed the concoction all those years ago at Dalts. Sigh).

Favorite bartender

Think he makes house calls?

Making the switch from my Captain to red wine, as I celebrated a birthday at a swanky little Nashville Italian joint.

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When in Rome….

On Sunday, I excitedly anticipated the Academy Awards while Teddy was still in recovery from my late weekend nights.

Image

My Oscar evening included champagne and pretty pink (what else would you expect?) frosted cupcakes.

Fancy cupcake for the fancy evening.

Fancy cupcake for the fancy evening.

Teddy got a second wind and insisted on sitting in the front row for the actual awards broadcast.

my oscar view

My Oscar view.

And I’m happily starting Monday off in this fabulous, bedazzled skull studded tank my gal Tina gifted me this weekend (think she knows me very well?).

Stargin Monday off bedazzled in my new threads from my girlie, Tina.

Kickin’ ass and takin’ names today!

Here’s hoping you do the same.

CBXB

CBXB!