Weekend Winks – Sizzlin’ Willie Style

Oh the fun that filled my Nashville weekend!

Back in January, I filmed a sizzle reel for a potential reality show and I have been patiently waiting for the final product.

Sizzlin' it. Just a little bit.

Sizzlin’ it. Just a little bit.

While sitting at my desk trying to eek out a little more work just before the clock hit five on Friday, Producer Paul texted me and said that I’d get to lay eyes on the final reel later that evening. Naturally I pestered him to the point where he wished he’d never opened his mouth and learned that I had to wait another two hours.

So I went to kill time with five a few Skinny Pirates at Dalts before the world Nashville premiere of my sizzle.

After getting over the fact that hearing my own voice makes my ears want to bleed profusely and wishing I’d eaten 800 less sugar cookies over the course of the holidays (as we filmed in early January), I nestled into my bar stool and let ‘er rip.


Not so bad the first time.


Second viewing a success.


Third round proved a monster had been born.

Rudely interrupting my sizzle observations, a chance to see Willie Nelson presented itself and how could I say no?

I couldn’t.

I also couldn’t refrain from stealing a Shotgun Willie shirt off of the back of a gentleman in the crowd. OK, I didn’t steal it.  I simply admired this dude’s shirt out loud and he offered it up after some gentle prodding by yours truly.


Mamas don’t let your babies grow up to be robbers…

I also got to hang with my work buddies who made my Willie experience all the more fabulous.

C'mon down!

Tire Hero, CBXB and Ashman.

Finding myself out way past curfew, I fully expected a tongue lashing from Teddy upon my return to our mini manse. But he could barely even muster an eyelid opening and I found myself off the hook. Holla!

Passed out

Too tired to care.

I found myself dazed and confused staring at my half-assed wallpaper fail and found the motivation somewhere in my dehydrated state to finish the damn job – even the wonkiness above the doorway.

All around fail

All around unfinished fail.

After three hours, four cocktails and one large headache the stick-on wallpaper mission was accomplished!


Don’t try this sober.

Not at all amused or sharing my joy in any way shape or form was none other than Mr. Ted E. Bear who slept off his food coma (I accidentally fed him breakfast twice) while I practically stood on my head lining fucking stripes of sticky paper together.


Trying so hard to not give a care.

Keeping in the spirit of putting pep in household steps, I helped G (you know, the friend who almost brawled an 80-year-old man for me) gussy up her new bedroom by throwing any and everything in her cart at Target (much to her hubby’s dismay, I’m sure). On a side note, did you know that Southerners call shopping carts buggies? Yes, like the horse and buggy type. Just an FYI for you.

Fully loaded cart - or buggy as southerns like to call them.

Supermarket Sweeps CBXB style.

Coming home I found these my two ‘we-don’t-like-each-other-when-you’re-around-but-when-you’re-not-looking-we’re-in-love’ cats sitting in tandem on the porch.

Love to hate

My pretty pussies.

All weekend I was sweating how to break the news to Tedstar that he didn’t make the sizzle reel, even though he made damn sure he was highly involved during the weekend shoot.

Patiently waiting for his close-up.

Patiently waiting for his close-up.

As we nestled into bed and I turned the sizzle on for the 7,491 fourth time this weekend, Ted couldn’t do much of anything but silently seethe when he found himself missing from the entire footage.

No love.

If looks could kill.

I’ve relayed this issue to Producer Paul who may or may not have claw marks on his face next time he visits Nashville…



Pussy Producer

Film me, Bitches.

Film me, Bitches.

I always knew my pussy was a self-absorbed, one-of-a-kind, scene stealing feline but I had no clue he could also act as a producer, director, location scout, lighting manager and camera man at the same time.

When filming a sizzle reel in my mini manse for a possible reality TV show, my main squeeze Ted put his mad skills to use as soon as the equipment hit the floor.


Any other color for this cord? Say, pink for instance?

Equipment manager

Can we get this bar a tad lower? I can’t jump over anything more than one inch off of the ground.

Think you can get a better angle

This angle is all wrong. Jesus!

Set direction

Envisioning potential for filming a scene.


A little more light over here, please!

Location scout

Location scout.

While I was under the impression Mr. Bear was taking charge for my well-being, he had other ideas…

No, seriously. Film me.

No, seriously. Film me. NOW.

Lighting Director

More light shining on me, please!

So not moving.

CUT! She’s blocking my good side.

Pretty pussy

Puurfectly primped pussy poised for an interview.

After all of the spotlight stealing, Tedstar needed a cattail to take the edge off.

Cattail time.

Being a cat star is beyond exhausting.

After resting his weary paws, TB realized he was one pooped pussy and decided it was a wrap (such a diva already).

Pooped pussy.

No pawtographs, please.

Upon waking up the next morning, I could tell Ted was wondering where the fabulous lighting had gone as he cruised from room to room looking for our mini manse guests.

Since he’s so lonesome for the camera, I make him feel better every other minute by shouting –

“Lights! Camera! Teddy!”



Sizzle It. Just a Little Bit.

My Nashville weekend was filled with lights, cameras and all kinds of action.

Recently, I was approached by a producer who stumbled upon my blog and thought my life (and Teddy’s too) might make for interesting reality TV. So we explored that idea further this weekend by filming footage for a sizzle reel (could it be called anything more appropriate for me?).

Sizzle it. Just a little bit.

Sparkling for the sizzle.

Although I had the time of my life, I’m still in the depths of recuperation from…

The copious amounts of cocktails (in every scene),

One lush of a cat.

My incessant talking (pretty sure I made the camera dude’s ears bleed),

No. I c

My voice will be haunting his nightmares.

Trying to keep the lipstick off my teeth (damn Dracula chompers),

Image 13

Four hours of continuous zip lining (I need a new crotch),

So black isn’t always flattering…

Mascot manhandling (yep, you read that right),

If this isn’t TV gold, I don’t know what is.

Shopping in six inch stilettos for hours (anyone wanna rub my feet?),

Image 15

Seriously. Help.

And filming back-to-back 12 hour days, which caused us to take not-so-flattering selfies when it was a wrap.

Bleary eyed and bushy tailed.

Bleary eyed and bushy tailed.

As you can tell by the look in Ted’s eyes, he’s wondering why can’t all weekends be just like this one…