Dog Days of Summer

If you know me in the slightest, you know that my fur kids are people to me (whenever I walk in my front door, no matter if I just took the trash out, I holler “where my peeps at?”). My world revolves around them. And, suffice to say, I have had the greatest honor and pleasure of rescuing a small zoo.

But there are always fur babies that hold an extra special spot in your heart and I’m sad to share that I came home from work last week and found that my chug, Precious, had passed away. She was in the exact spot where she normally awaits my arrival home. Although, upon calling out, her little tail didn’t wag and her head didn’t pop up in excitement of seeing her mama after mere hours away from one another.

Coolest chug on the planet.

To say that I am devastated is an understatement. I am having a hard time writing this now – and yet as we all know too fucking well – life moves on. For me, I’m trying to comprehend the timing. I’ve lost my two best fur friends within a year. Two fur peeps that were like guns in holsters by my side, one on each hip constantly. My chest has been heavy and my heart is honestly in pieces. But with my constant support system of the fabulous humans in my life, I’ve managed one moment at a time. One bestie told me that if she didn’t know me, she’d think I had Munchausen Syndrome of drama because so much shit has rained down in the last few years. But unfortunately, it’s all true. Which is why I always let people go first when we talk about how our day has been.

Ted and Presh. Best buddies playing forever over the Rainbow Bridge.

I dread walking through the front door where I found Presh but on the first day the task had to be done, I had a bouquet from the most kick ass friends in which a girl could wish greeting me. They were sitting right outside my door, easing the burden of the inevitable door walk through.

Flowers are a grieving gal’s best friend.

While I wanted to wallow in bed with the covers over my head, I realized I do have rent to pay, lights to keep on and four pussies to feed. When I came into work, pink roses awaited my arrival.

Team members showed their love.

My cousin and his wife were thankfully in town Friday and Dada CBXB and myself went to meet them for a much-needed Skinny Pirate(s) after the longest fucking week. While I do pride myself in being current, I couldn’t help but die when I snapped a pic of our cocktails and saw that a walker was in the background. If you get to Dalts before 5pm, you’ll be sharing the bar with people who make you feel like a newborn. And I don’t hate it.

Can you tell we’re related?

In my Iowa twin news, there were getting prepped for the arrival of Coo Coo (yes, that’s the phrase we use for grandpa – always keeping it classy).

Hunk of the month. I’m talking about the boy, not the dog.

Swish swish full of swag.

Coo Coo made it just in time for cocktail hour on Saturday.

Jazz hands run in the family, obvies.

Another thing that runs in the family? Fabulous nails. Princess B set out to give Auntie CBXB a run for her patriotic mani money.

Red, white and blue-hoo!

Tootsies too.

Same color scheme, slightly different approach for this old broad. I can’t wait to make Sister CBXB give me a manicure next time I see her since she’s got mad mani skills.

Patriotic claws.

While Coo Coo and the twins were living it up in Iowa, I was having a time getting my ass outta the bed.

Rasta and the sun coaxed me out of the mini where I floated the day away.

We were slightly alarmed after seeing the obviously-required-by-the-codes-department-sign hanging at the pool that missed vital information…

Who’s gonna save me?

Getting ready for a bath (full of bawling my eyes out) post swim, First Mate called and saved the day. She swung by with Bota Box Rosé (seriously the best box of wine on the market at the moment) and we chit chatted and then started to binge watch the show Younger (seriously an easy-to-watch-thirty-minutes-of-fuff). And then my main TV crapped out. Did we let ruin our slumber party?

The Gulp ‘n’ Go.

Nope. We moved the cheese platter, popcorn and the pussies into the bedroom.

Our Cardboardeaux Rosé accompanied us.

Nothing like nestling in for a binge…until someone says “I just need to rest my eyes,” and it’s lights out. So First Mate saw herself out of the mini after her host rudely passed out.

Slumber party shenanigans.

Starting the newest novel by Ruth Ware, I decided it was better to get more vitamin D while reading than complete and utter darkness under the covers. Sunday Funday found me back at the pool in 95 degree heat. While I have gained 40 pounds since Rapegate, the one perk of the extra LBs has been the enhancement of my flat chest (oh and I have pride in photos and videos that make the rounds to friends).

Wallowing in the sun.

Complete package.

With must needed thirst quenchers.

Again when I was side eyeing the bath tub (Precious would sit on the toilet while I bathed – again, nothing but classy white trash), knowing it would cause a tearfest, Bird Lady happened to call and suggest a cocktail and snack outing.

When she saw me she said, “Your hair looks really great. What did you do?”

“I finally washed it.”

So fresh and so clean cocktail hour.

Thanks again from the bottom of my heart for helping this gal, who is seriously trudging through the muck of life (I mean fucking seriously, was I a serial killer in a past life?), feel loved, important and heard. Words, gestures and hugs go the longest way.

Can’t wait to see her again and Bear again. Two great loves of my life.

Take care of yourselves. Look both ways before crossing the street. Make sure you don’t fall down any stairs. Wear a floatie in the lake. Make sure that seat belt snaps. Because if you’re reading this, I love you. And my heart can take no more losses at the moment.

XOXO –

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – Cinco de Drinko

How can you cram in the Kentucky Derby, Cinco de Mayo AND a Nashville Predators hockey play-off game all in one day?

Piece of cake for this liver of mine.

Oh how the anticipation of a Friday feels so good. A long week of work and an even longer week of insane non-fake news calls for a pit stop at my fave watering hole, Dalts.

Skinny Pirates for celebration and consoling.

There was something ultra empowering for victims of sexual assault this week, as America’s former favorite TV dad was found guilty in court for his heinous acts. As he fucking should have been in the first place after nearly five dozen women came forward and spoke out – and keep in mind these are his victims that chose to speak up. Think about the countless others who remain silent for their own reasons. I can’t wait for this man to rot the rest of his life away.

EPIC WIN FOR SEXUAL ASSAULT VICTIMS

On the far end of the negative spectrum, my home state, Iowa, that has always been my pride and joy, took women’s rights back about 50 years. BY THE FEMALE GOVERNOR. Now, I don’t care where you stand on abortion – however, this new legislation prevents abortions after six weeks of pregnancy. SIX WEEKS. Most of my friends who have had children, didn’t know they were pregnant until well after this point. Even if a child is molested and becomes pregnant, or a pregnancy occurs because of rape, the victims only have 45 days to speak up before they must keep the baby. FUCK THAT SHIT.

I mean, if the government truly thinks humans were put on this Earth to procreate, men shouldn’t be able to masturbate to fruition because, the sperm ejaculated could have produced a baby, right?

EPIC FAIL IOWA

All that being said, Dalts was happy to see Camo and Captain doing our drinking thang.

Camo with crazy runaway bride eyes – you guys remember her?

While I was sipping on Skinny Pirates, awaiting Mama CBXB’s arrival to Nashville, my Iowa twins were enjoying the simple treats in life…baseball and ice cream.

While I had my mini sombrero laid out for Cinco de Meowy, I had major tugging at my heartstrings when this popped up in my Facebook feed.

I have a love/hate relationship with these goddamn Facebook memories.

While I was a tad teary eyed Saturday, the twins were all giggle and games in celebration of Cinco de Mayo.

Princess B didn’t let dizziness deter her.

 

Prince B was a bit further from the tail…

 

I tried gussying up with a new product for the celebratory holiday – magnetic false eye lashes. It went about how you’d expect with me.

 

False eyelash-less, I hosted a small party for my NHL Stanley Cup hopeful Nashville Predators. Bird Lady, First Mate, Mama CBXB and yours truly partied regardless of the dismal performance by the Preds. They ended up losing at home 6-2…but the drinkos kept being poured anyhow.

Derby Success.
Cinco de Drinko Success.
Predators FAIL.

A gorgeous Sunday was made for a fun day of errands. Specifically to my second mothership, where I picked up a cat tree fit for my four pussies. Mama CBXB gifted it to her grandcats as a late Christmas gift.

Cray Cray Cat Lady version of Sunday Funday.

I was a usual shit show carrying it to the car, adorning the dumpster wedding veil I keep in my trunk “just in case,” to load the tower into my vehicle. I mean, I didn’t want to crush it, so I put it on.

Who doesn’t do this?

After clearing a little room for plants, we picked up a few flowers to help my black thumbs (I killed a cactus this winter) morph more toward green. Upon arriving home, the pussies couldn’t decide whether to climb on the cat nip loaded tower or eat all of the greenery and throw up.

Decisions. Decisions.

Fabio declaring his space.

Ruby Sue nestled right in.

Rocky couldn’t be bothered to try either, as he was near comatose on the bed.

Fine here, thanks.

Elsa Pants, aka Stank Face, bucked the trend and went for the plants.

…she owns this title.

I can’t wait to see what she’s left for me after work today.

Cheers!

CBXB

 

Weekend Winks – Freezing! Fiesta! Football! Fun!

One of the joys of living in a city that isn’t equipped to handle any type of winter weather, is it’s kinda fun when it comes. Freezing rain on Friday meant that I was able to slide out of work and into my bed for a day of conference calls and cat naps (the cats, not me of course).

When you’re given the option to work from home…

YOU TAKE IT.

No one was excited about it at all.

My mom checked in from Iowa to make sure I was all set with necessities because it’s a fucking freak out frenzy when there is even mention of the “s” word – SNOW. Nashville citizens (and anyone else who didn’t grow up above the Mason Dixon Line) all but lose their goddamned minds.

While I was hunkered down with my pussies Saturday, my Iowa twins were getting hyped up to par-tay. Why you ask? Because they are turning five – FIVE – FUCKING FIVE YEARS OLD – on Wednesday. I mean holy fucking shit how did this happen so fast?

FIVE!

Due to the fact that Princess B eats salsa like its soup, the day was a fiesta complete with the best cakes on the planet.

Crazy over cake.

My artsy sis even crafted a pinata for the occasion.

FUCKING FIVE.

Fiesta fun!

Naturally, there were outfit choices to be made and Princess B did not disappoint.

Just a little gussy up.

Nor did she get any salsa on the sequins.

I finally mustered up the energy to walk over to Rasta’s pad on Saturday night, forcing myself out into the blustery cold I’m not used to anymore. Speaking of force, Rasta isn’t a football fan of any sort and I made her watch the Titans game in her own house.

I’m so sweet.

While I drank her wine.

Tailgate City.

My Titans were playing actual football titans, the New England Patriots and so I was hoping for at least a touchdown. And we scored one first! Then, just as quickly as that happened, my dudes ended up getting an ass beating. Rasta kept up with the team spirit though, assisting me through the horrendous game.

She’s officially my wine coach now.

Yeah, it was that bad.

She wins the sportsmanship award for sure.

Football fun.

I was up at what felt like the ass crack of dawn on Sunday to watch a segment on CBS Sunday Morning. It was regarding the Time’s Up movement and Oprah interviewed several prominent women who helped initiate the campaign. Being that I take great interest in this due to Rapegate and the #MeToo movement, I expected support from my pussies.

Only one showed the fuck up.

#whywewearblack

The others were busy having a menage à trois in the unmade bed.

Thanks for the support, assholes.

While watching other NFL playoff games, I started to take down the few Christmas decorations I put up this year and toyed with the idea of Valentine’s Day. But promptly stopped after dressing my Glamingo.

I also somehow came across a hideous Pucci hat that a lady who thought she was famous and was my boss at the time gave me as a leftover present (she would regift her unwanted Christmas presents to me for my birthday in March). You want it? It’s yours.

Her exact positioning and expression in every photo.

After throwing one helluva classy fiesta, my sister pulled through in our white trash ways when storing leftovers.

After getting her text, I was craving Mexican and justlikethat First Mate sent a text wanting to meet up for wine at our fave joint. Talk about fate.

We come for the handsome pours of wine, not the margaritas.

The Minnesota Vikings game (which was one of the best last second endings ever) was on at the restaurant. The fans chant skol and my sister and I were confused as to what it meant. We had an Iowa-Tennessee-Georgia family tutorial via text from my cousin Tballs – a huge Vikings fan.

My guess of “yeehaw” was way off.

After heading home with a belly full of wine, salsa and chips, I settled in for a night cap.

A literal night cap.

Here’s hoping your week is full of fiesta-ish fun.

SKOL!

CBXB

 

 

 

 

Ghouls Night In

Being that I haven’t been in a celebratory mood for the past two years, retrieving my Halloween decor out of Camo’s attic was an exciting feat. Getting my giddy up back after Rapegate, I’m trying to stay on the right track by doing what I would “normally” do, which is celebrate the fuck out of every. single. thing. I can.

So Halloween has been my first glittery stiletto heeled step in the thriving direction. And what better way to get my ass in gear than to host my monthly Supper Club in October?

Yeah…all for the mini manse.

As soon as the bins were in, I was in shopping heaven – being that I hadn’t seen my sparkly Halloween accessories in almost 700 days. I perused my own decor, acting like I was on an episode of a holiday themed Supermarket Sweeps.

Decor for days.

This was also the first time any of my current fur ball amigos had seen any type of Halloween madness from their mama, and it was super fun trying to avoid stepping on a live cat bomb, as they hid amongst everything.

Elsa Pants trying her hand as a ground hog.

As the count down began, I decorated like the Wicked Witch of Nashville, readying my mini manse for a Ghoul’s Night In.

Why would it be worth even putting one decoration out, if you didn’t dress up the outside of your haunted house? Even the Glamingo slipped into her skeleton feather attire.

Grand entrance.

While most mansions have extravagantly large foyers, mine is excruciatingly small – but grand nonetheless.

Instead using my dining room for what its intended, I naturally have a few bars (duh).

The bar cart gussy up.

The liquor bar gussy up.

The side bar gussy up.

The wine bar gussy up.

The fur ball bar gussy up.

No, I do not think I have too many bars. No, I also do not need to attend weekly meetings (*cue eye roll*).

In lieu of dishes in kitchen cabinets, I chose to display Halloween knick knacks galore because…really, dishes are boring.

The stove top was easy to cover because it’s so rarely used.

My piece de resistance happens to be my player piano, which I turned into a haunted forest of sorts where resident pussies often tip toe through like abominable snowmen, seeing what all can be knocked over. Or broken. Or played with to pieces.

Speaking of my pussies, of course their room is also decorated – or else they’d be pissed.

Kit cats killed the witch.

Truth.

After my mini manse was haunted to the gills, it was time to prep for the ghouls.

Appetizing table setting.

Spooky Sangria prepped and ready.

My finest china ready for chili and potato soup.

Chili costume accessories.

All that was left were the ghouls who came to par-tay as my fave non-scary Halloween movie, Practical Magic, played in the background.

Cutest ghouls in Nashville.

Don’t think I let them forget me.

I mean, I am the ghostess with the mostess.

Happy Haunting!

CBXB

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

 

Griswold Family Style Fourth of July

Driving a boat at Lake of the Ozarks…

Party Chick

…is a party girl from Tennessee.

Party Girl

As cousins gather every Fourth…

Cousins

…to be with family

The Griswolds

From Jell-O shots…

Jell-O

…with whipped cream.

Whipped Cream

Constant fights over the mic…

Mic Fight

to sing karaoke.

Karoake King

Trivial Pursuit winners, always reign supreme!

Winners!

From new tattoos…

Tattoo

…to pool dunks…

Dunk

…with drunken dancers around a hunk.

Hunk

Our favorite toy is the aqua bar…

Aqua Bar

…that prevents us from floating too far.

Floater

 I’m proud to be from my family!

Family

Where at least I can be me.

Beerpoo

And they never, ever let me forget

Just how handy my booty can be.

Handy

Cousins blowing their muscles up…

Blow Hards

…next to me

Muscles

so I won’t cry and feel left out.

Cry Baby

There ain’t no doubt I love my clan –

Clan

Thank God for my family!

Fam

Here’s hoping your version of the Griswolds has a safe and booze filled 4th.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – Birthday Bonanza

Oh the bliss of birthdays. Typically I think mine ranks right up there with the birth of Jesus and the discovery of booze and I start announcing reminders to all acquaintances – “exactly three months after Christmas – how can you fucking forget?” – the moment March 1 rolls around.

But this year, I have been a tad distracted and it snuck up on me like a pregnancy after a one-night stand (never experienced either, so everyone calm down). Fortunately, Dada CBXB and Bird Lady accompanied me to my fave Nashville watering hole, Dalts, where I loaded up on Skinny Pirates and … a birthday tequila shot.

Three birthday amigos.

Unfortunately for me, I had decided to wear my best bar shoes and almost broke an ankle on my way out the door, lunging for a mint.

These just make good walking sense.

Broken ankles averted, I woke up with a case of the blues on my actual birthday morning. Funny how life could give a fuck what day it is in your world and runs you over whenever it deems necessary.

Tissues for my issues.

For a long moment, I thought I’d be spending my day in bed with each of my pussies taking a pity party turn with me. Rocky chose to go first and made it mighty difficult to want to leave my fluffy throne.

Save the drama for yo mama.

Then I remembered that I’m the Queen of my fucking universe. So, I fumbled out of the bed, slapped on some lipstick and threw prescription sunglasses over the puffy eyes that made me appear as if I was a co-starring with Sylvester Stallone as a real boxer in a Rocky movie.

When life hands you lemons, pretend they’re oranges and add champs.

Friends have a keen way to know when they’re needed the most (especially when you text them and ask if they would like to take your broke ass (still job hunting!) out for your special day) and swoop in to save the day.

A Shit Show, a First Mate and a Bird Lady.

Being that I’m the most non-quiet woman on the planet, we can’t help but be noticed in a small restaurant. But we also acted like we were somebodies as Bird Lady talked on speaker phone while First Mate and I made fun.

Real Housewives of the Hard of Hearing.

We also added fuel to sticking out like sore thumbs in the extremely hip and cool East Nashville (you know, the area of a city where young folks pay $313 for an outfit that looks like it’s from Goodwill?) by carrying our Louis Vuittons, prancing around in our sky high wedge heels and…pulling out a fucking sorority wind breaker (***cue eye roll from moi***). As you can imagine, we gave zero fucks and partied the afternoon away.

What’s a K Triangle?

Speaking of being spoiled by friends, look what came all the way from Colorado just for me? A pussy pot crafted by the fabulous pole dancing, kick ass, wonder mom, ceramics maven and fellow blogger Viv.  I had long admired her crafty pots and so she sent me one. Lucky me!

A slight shade off from my #1 pussy of all time, Mr. Ted E. Bear.

One time my best friend forgot my birthday. And, I never, ever, ever, ever let him forget it (please – what kind of classy lady would let that go?). Years later (in what I think was an attempt to avoid missing my very important date again), he got married on my birthday (I wasn’t the maid of honor but I’ve let that go…kind of).

Happy Anniversary Scooby and Mr. Scooby!

While I was shenaniganing my way through the weekend, my Iowa twins were lounging it away as they were both fighting the sickness.

Party people!

When my nephew, Prince B was having a conversation with my bro-in-law about why mom and dad share things because they’re married he said, “Dad, I told you I’m going to marry mom! Back off that girl!”

The Royal Duo – with one heartbreaker in the making.

I started, and then couldn’t tear myself away from this book while soaking in the suds on Sunday.

Creepy fucking awesome.

Then I hunkered down with the still slightly under the weather Ted and laid on my leopard couch so long, there’s now an imprint of my body.

No better birthday present.

Thanks to all of you for the well wishes, Facebook posts, texts, cards, calls and overload of love. This gal couldn’t appreciate it more. That being said, I am still accepting invitations to celebrate, so feel free to reach out.

Can’t stop. Won’t stop.

I mean, who wants their party to end?

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!