Weekend Winks – Cheers to Seven Years!

It’s my seven year blogoversary!

Celebration Queens.

When I started Cowboys and Crossbones at the urging of my sister one wine filled night seven years ago, I didn’t quite know what kind of content I was going to create. Maybe ways to look fashionable on a budget? Or a nail painting blog? A lazy in the kitchen, you can do it too recipe blog? As I played with different ideas and posts, the more I shared about my life in general as a single Nashville, crazy cat lady, Iowa Hawkeyes, Skinny Pirate and wine loving gal, a lifestyle blog surfaced.

The photo above was taken on the same day I started CBXB and just appeared on my Facebook memories. Back when I thought the worst thing that could happen to me was my then boyfriend running over my cell phone on our way to eat Italian one Friday night. Oh, how life would school me.

Wait a second…you’re telling me life isn’t all sunshine and fuckin’ rainbows?

Naturally, with life milestones coming and going, I’ve been thinking about what has taken place since I started this blog. I loved so hard on Ted, moved three times, found a career I adored in the music production business, adopted New Cat, broke up with relationships not healthy for me, gained a niece and nephew (!), loved on Precious, lost my Gma, got promoted to an executive in a career I adored, lost New Cat unexpectedly, was sexually harassed at the career I adored, forced out of the career I adored, guzzled countless family tradition Hawkeye touchdown shots, hosted celebratory for anything parties, endured Rapegate (and the shit show that still ensues), adopted three pussies in one day (and love the shit out of them), lost Ted, gained a happy work environment, lost Aunt Crazy Pants, fell into depression, grew boobs as an adult woman due to weight gain associated with Rapegate, lost Precious, twirled my way down to a concussion, have discovered who my ride or die life peeps are and remain in therapy with my super hero Sheila to this day.

I’m still standing.

The amount of band aids I’ve required over the last seven years rivals the amount of silicone in a Kardashian body.

Finding joy again has been a long overdue relief. And while I’m focusing on me, being happy and moving forward, those steps that take you back can feel like falls that rival the depth of the Grand Canyon. My stress level has been off the charts and to cope, I’ve been looking into getting a dog. A constant companion that can travel with me (I’m still a pussy galore gal but none of my current posse loves an errand filled day in a car). While I’d just been thinking about it, First Mate knew a friend of a friend of a friend who was a foster and here’s what happened this weekend.

It was just one of those things that was meant to be and it was further solidified when her foster mom sent this photo to me…

Waiting on her forever home.

My response…

I’m ready for her.

The Pussy Posse and I are pleased to introduce you to the newly named Prissy. She’s a four-year-old Pomeranian that was being fostered by Russell Rescue TN.

We really hate each other.

Obviously.

While celebrating her arrival it was discovered she has a taste for boxed wine, just like her mother.

Booze Hound.

The Pussy Posse gained a new member but are still a tad on the leery side regarding Prissy.

The Big Three questioning their mama’s sanity while watching Prissy frolick about the Mini Manse as if she owns it.

I let the animal queendom work itself out as I headed to soak in some summer rays.

And ended the weekend as I always do…

Stressless soak.

Please send your good juju and patience to me as I attempt to run a zoo.

Cheers to another seven years!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Christmas in Retrograde

Anybody else’s life been feeling slightly off lately?*

*slightly off for me is the understatement of the fucking century but you get what I’m saying.

Ever heard of Mercury in Retrograde? I have but I thought it only had meaning for those who comprehended astronomy or astrology (neither of which I have any sliver of understanding). I mean it involves a planet and a fancy word that means backward so what the fuck would I know about it?

The Farmers’ Almanac explains, “Retrograde is when a planet appears to go backward in its orbit, as viewed from Earth. Astronomers refer to this as “apparent retrograde motion,” because it is an optical illusion.” According to Horoscope.com, it may be an optical illusion BUT “when Mercury is in retrograde, technology, communication, travel, logic, and information all get disrupted.” Ah. I see.

It is an explanation as to why life is a shit show for periods of time (if you’re looking for an excuse and I am always looking for an excuse for the complications in life no matter how minor).

Apparently, this shit happens a few times a year (it’s over August 2 but starts again on October 31 – be prepared for a freak show of a Halloween!). During this ass backward Mercury rotation, I have had a car tire almost fall off due to negligence during my last tire rotation (one lug nut was holding the tire on – there are supposed to be five), ruined an entire work outfit due to white paint around the Mini Manse door that didn’t have a fucking ‘wet paint’ sign, discovered mold in my kitchen cupboard above the stove (which we all know doesn’t get used so what the actual fuck?), found mushy, rotten wood is holding my patio doors together – barely (been 30 days and counting for maintenance), and these are just small examples. Could it be worse? Fuck yes.

Me. Until Mercury exits retrograde.

Speaking of could it be any worse, Podunk has really had a fucking bout with this spin of the planet.

Instead of sandwiched between two blondes, it was marble.

She had a bundle of marble fall on her and sustained four broken ribs, a torn spleen accompanied by internal bleeding, a bruised liver, a partially collapsed lung and a contusion on her arm.

Please send my gal all of the good juju you have for fast and proper healing of her injuries. I’m doing that, as well as hoping she has some leftover feel good meds to share.

I was so excited to see the end of the week I couldn’t get my ass in bubbles quickly enough Friday. I stayed in the tub nearly three hours after work.

Yes, I use every single product you see in this photo.

Prince B has had zero problems with this Mercury bullshit. In fact, he celebrated his Ninjaversary on Saturday. Not familiar with that holiday? It’s when you have an anniversary for ninja class. Duh.

The two faces of Prince B.

What’s a celebration without cake? Chocolate cake with lemon frosting to be exact.

Sweet ninja.

And of course, it’s not a celebration without balloons and matching party accessories.

Par-tay done right.

Always a prince and princess to me.

While Prince B was kicking serious ninja butt, I was trying to keep my legs attached to my body at a spin cycle class. I may have come in last place on the scoreboard but goddamnit I showed up.

What my shirt says.

Wondering about my ever growing gaggle of pussies? Welp, I trapped, spayed, neutered and released two adult cats. When I finally caught the third adult cat and took her in for surgery, she’d already had another batch of kittens. Please be aware of the adorableness below.

Beyond.

There are three kittens total that I’m going to catch and have spayed/neutered. Anybody want one?

The photo below gives me multiplying chills just like Danny in Grease.

Family tradition on the horizon baby!

Longtime friends passed through town and we had a pool party Saturday. I really made quite the impression on their youngster (surprise).

“Dad, she drinks more wine than you.”

I also got to see Uncle Toddy and Aunt Crispie as they made their way through Music City two weekends in a row. They really love posing for photos with me.

There’s always that one asshole in the family.

Keeping it cool on National Ice Cream day were the royal members of our family.

Ice cream dreams.

They’re always loved the cold stuff.

About to scream for their ice cream.

I wasn’t as excited over frozen dairy as I was the Hallmark Movie Channel marathon of Christmas movies. Why? Because Christmas in July. Duh.

Merry Christmas.

July decor in tact on the year round Celebration tree.

The pussies thought I’d lost my ever loving fucking mind (this tends to happen quite often).

The fuck is she doing now?

They got used to taking turns cuddling during the massive cheesiness in the Mini Manse living room for 16 hours straight.

Heavy rotation of pussies. Thank gawd there’s five of them.

I’m not mad about it.

This week, my ass is going to be planted on my leopard couch, adorned in my Gpa’s 45-year-old robe, along with my sequin Santa hat and rosé. Always, always rosé (during the week).

Suck it Reverse Mercury!

Aside from that, my excuse for anything that goes sideways before August 2 is Mercury in Retrograde. Please feel free to use it for yourself, too. You’re welcome.

Superhero Sheila can’t wait for my session this week.

Merry Retrograde!

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Smiles for Miles

There’s something about Memorial Day that makes it feel like summer has arrived. This past holiday weekend was no different. Van Waffles and I kicked off the fun with brunch at The Sutler that serves bottomless mimosas for $17. I’m sure I ruined that fabulous deal for everyone after my guzzling appearance.

I was more excited about the mimosas. Clearly.

One large group of tourists ordered four rounds of 16 shots while we were there. Four rounds of 16 shots. I can only imagine that their total bill was roughly about what I pay for rent monthly, as they were all having mimosas and food.

My Iowa twins are officially first graders! They celebrated their year in kindergarten by taking a mini vacay to Chicago.

Just a scosh excited about school being out.

Long legs in the Windy City.

Ice cream dreams.

Sometimes you forget the excitement about experiencing something for the first time. Smiles for miles about their first ride in a taxi.

It’s the little things.

Princess B got to go to the American Girl Doll store (which is apparently a rite of passage for kids when visiting Michigan Avenue). Instead of selecting a doll, she opted for a puppy which made my heart just about burst.

Mini me.

Sister CBXB was keeping me updated on the dog shopping and I about died when I received the following message.

Remind you of anyone?

Wonder where she gets it.

A very fancy piece of art was commissioned during the vacay.

Along with a fabulous view.

The fam made it back to Iowa in time for Princess B to attend her last dance class of the year.

Dancing Queen.

Speaking of last classes, I partied it up in honor of VooDoo’s baby girl who is all grown up and now a graduate.

A fabulous future lies ahead.

This was also a bon voyage party for VooDoo who is moving to Alabama in two weeks. Bittersweet but so thrilled for her new adventure.

VooDoo, Boob, First Mate and the Captain.

Because we never have any fun when we’re together, our selfie game got a little sideways. First Mate’s arms lack the length to get more than one face in the frame.

That’s Boob in the way back.

Problem solving skills get better the more booze you consume so when it was time to open the wine with no opener, another genius party goer had the best solution ever. A screw and screwdriver got us thirsty gals our vino.

Red neck wine opener.

Due to the holiday, it was important that we stocked up on libations Sunday evening on the way home from VooDoo’s partay. Although the Nashville Predators failed to make the Stanley Cup this year, the swag was still out and we took full advantage of it for photo ops.

Helmet heads.

Van Waffles was kind enough to carry our loot.

I found the purrfect liquor in which I should be the spokeswoman.

My new favorite shot.

Speaking of cats, The Pussy Posse was in full relaxation mode this weekend. Fabio helped me eat leftovers taking up space in the fridge.

Do leftovers make my body look big?

Ruby Sue lived up to her nickname Thundercunt. She tried to commit suicide by constantly walking my porch railing, she enjoyed scaring the shit our of me while opening and slamming cupboard doors, and tried to suffocate herself in a plastic bag more than once.

Who could stay made at that face?

Scooch is taking cues from Elsa Pants (who can’t make an appearance on this week’s blog because she won’t sit still long enough for me to get a photo of her) and runs like a mad man is chasing him whenever I try to pet him. Poor thing.

Rocky just wanted to sleep and loves to lay on my arm while doing so. He just couldn’t because I had a dry cough that kept him from getting his normal 22 hours of shut eye.

Annoyed.

While we were all in relaxation mode, the weather was really making the rounds. Iowa City West High School students had to take cover at their graduation due to an EF-1 tornado. Thankfully no fatalities have been reported.

No Digity texted me from Vail where it was fucking snowing. At the end of May.

Colorado vs. Tennessee

Winding down after a full weekend ended the way it always does for me. In bubbles.

The purrfect ending.

Here’s hoping your start to summer made you smile.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Tight Ends and Taylor Swift

Oh Nashville.

You used to be my hidden gem of a city. I’d lure people to visit because if someone didn’t like country music, they weren’t interested in coming. Nashville was never just country music and cowboys but only true peeps who lived here knew that. Now, the secret’s out. It’s been out for quite some fucking time since the overly dramatic television show Nashville hit TV screens and the last few years, one hundred people have been moving here per day, taking up precious space on my interstates (yes, the interstates here are mine and mine only) and causing housing prices to sky rocket (seriously stop moving here or I’m going to be unable to afford to live in my Mini Manse that is a 42-year-old, popcorn ceilinged, ratchety carpeted, brass hardwared apartment that has gone up in rent almost $100 per year the last three years).

After this weekend, it’s suffice to say that Nashville is a legit city. Music City hosted the NFL Draft (downtown), the Country Music Marathon (downtown), Jimmy Buffett threw a parrot head party (downtown), and Taylor Swift decided to make a surprise appearance in the city with an impromptu meet and greet at the same time regular tourists and bachelor/bachelorette parties invaded the city while regular events went on per usual.

In 2017, Nashville’s population was 691,243.

This weekend, 600,000 more people invaded the city.

A projected 340,000 people for the weekend. That number nearly doubled for the three day shenanigans in Music City.

Most folks that live here took heed from the warning below…

The traffic lights literally spelled NFL. Photo credit: Pedro Esteban Tellez.

Just because my city was inundated with NFL fans didn’t mean I wasn’t in the mood for the draft. Two Iowa tight ends were projected to be selected Round One. So naturally, I gussied up at work in support.

Tight End University, Baby!

Lucky for me, First Mate is a sports head too and she hosted a draft partay at her castle.

Do gators eat hawks or do the birds peck gators to death?

Nothing says football party like a little two boxes of rosé.

True to the projections, my Iowa Hawkeyes tight ends, T.J. Hockenson and Noah Fant were selections eight and 20 overall in the first round. The University of Iowa is the first ever to have two tight ends drafted in the first round, which is why we’re now known as Tight End University.

I’m a size medium if anyone is at Raygun in the near future.

Detroit for Hockenson.
Broncos for Fant.

Might as well have been downtown.

Or maybe we were glad we were in air conditioning.

Either way, we had such a ball that we accidentally killed two boxes of rosé.

R.I.P. Bota Boxes.

Did I mention it was Thursday night? I woke up with such confusion at First Mate’s Friday morning (because I usually stay over on a weekend), I almost lollygagged too long to make it to work on time.

As if draft day one wasn’t enough, Taylor Swift decided to grace Nashville with her presence the day she dropped her first single off of the upcoming album. Hint after hint was dropped by Swift’s camp and Swifties from all over the planet somehow figured the fuck out where she was going to be at 11am on Friday morning.

If you want to stand where Taylor is standing, this mural is in the Gulch area of Nashville.

For those of  you Swifties out here, below is a video (it’s grainy but you’ll get the gist) captured by a dude who misses nothing in Nashville and is hip to every.single.thing happening in town. Taylor apparently stayed and signed autographs and graciously took selfies for hours.

One thing most Nashvillians can unite on is our disdain for the “woohoo” girls who come down for bachelorette parties. Now of course they pay good money and stay downtown but are, quite possibly, the most annoying of all tourists. So this was an especially funny site to see.

Speaking of bachelorette parties, check out the best sign from the marathon on Saturday.

A big congrats to the 30,000+ runners who completed the half and full marathon. I’ve done both and they are hard as fuuuuuuuuuuck.

Run for the tacos. @rosepepper

Even though neither First Mate nor myself did any kind of running, we still decided we needed tacos.

So we ran to eat Mexican.

While Nashville was abuzz with all kinds of shit happening, my Iowa twins were all primped up for a wedding. It’s too bad they don’t enjoy each other’s company.

Nothing but love.

J. Crew model in the making.

Hair model in the making.

I mean fucking COME ON.

When Sunday rolled around, I was ready for some mauling by The Pussy Posse.

Rocky and Fabio have snuggling down to a science.

The newest addition Scooch, is another story.

After watching everyone stand on their feet for three days downtown, my tootsies ached for them. Of course I remedied that the best way I know.

To all those that came in for a few days, thanks for coming!

But mostly, thanks for getting the fuck out of town.

Love ya, mean it!

CBXB!

 

 

 

Weekend Winks – Catfish, Cuteness and Cocktails

No matter your job or career, there’s something about that Friday feeling that gets most of us nine to five folks giddily gearing up for the weekend ahead.

Rocky nailed it.

Fridays always call for cocktails in my book and I was lucky enough to partake in the very divine avocado margaritas (sound disgusting, beyond delish) at a local restaurant called Avo. It’s a fabulous vegan place that even carnivores  (me)can love.

Double fisting at its finest.

I have a love/hate relationship with the social media “remember this from a year ago” shit they drudge up daily. But this time, I was loving the reminder on Instagram.

From toddlers to kids in the blink of an eye.

While my Iowa twins are a ways away from 21, that doesn’t stop the party from taking place around the time of a typical happy hour for Princess B (remind you of anyone else you know?).

No problems with happy hours here.

While it was juice galore for my princess, Prince B was pretty much trying out to be a Harlem Globetrotter.

Is the player that short or is Prince B that tall?

He’s a serious athlete in the making and I can’t wait to yell, make a scene, cheer from the stands like the appropriately embarrassing aunt I will never cease to be.

I cannot wait to wear his jersey.

In other sports related news, my Nashville Predators hockey team is in the first round of the Stanley Cup playoffs. So I did what any good sports fan does and got gussied up in my finest attire. Nashville’s non-official ‘mascot’ is a catfish because inevitably at the start of any game, a fan always throws a catfish on the ice. Now there is a tank full of catfish at the arena (these catfish are only for viewing pleasure, not to be thrown on the ice, FYI).

Gussied up in my Preds gear.

It was a girl gang-a-palooza watching party at a local joint, The Centennial, in the Nations area of Nashville.

Girl gang in full force.

Van Waffles had the pleasure of being our mascot for the evening. I don’t think he minded being the ring leader of us gaggle of gals.

Van Waffles and the resident clown.

The hockey game got exciting, as it went into overtime. When I glanced over at First Mate, she’d added a Preds hat and brought her towel out of her purse to further encourage our team’s win.

Stealth accessory adder.

First Mate undoubtedly looked adorable in her additional giddy up, which proved to help our Preds because they won in overtime. Meanwhile, I had a hard time putting on an accessory otherwise known as a windbreaker.

Blame it on a big head or being blonde?

Winding down Sunday, a little hair of the dog action was necessary while watching Tiger Woods come back out of his 11 year slump. I’m way too loud for golf but it’s easy to get caught up in the hype of excitement with an event so big.

The Pussy Posse could have given two fucks about the Masters, so they had a snuggle party in bed instead.

Snugglemania.

After not watching the insanely hyped Game of Thrones debut (I haven’t seen but the first episode where a brother has sex with a sister and they push a boy out of a castle window, so I don’t get why every.single.person I know is in love with this series but to each their own). Instead, I ended the weekend the way I always do.

Bubblicioius.

Cheers!

CBXB!

 

Weekend Wink – The Luckiest Girl

It’s that time of year that green is all around us in Nashville as a welcomed sight. The grass, the leaves and this past weekend, the hue of celebrating the patron saint of Ireland, Patrick.

I met up with one of my former band mates, Keys, and we had a fun catch up lunch at my fave watering hole, Dalts.

Old friends make me a lucky gal.

Friends of yesteryear also keep me company with kind words and support he’s always throwing behind me.

I had a guest coming over for supper (oh, we will get into this supper vs. dinner debate at a later date) Friday evening and I hadn’t made my Lazy Lasagna (or anything that didn’t simply require a microwave heat up) in…well, I can’t remember when. Naturally, I acted like I was concocting an eight course meal, when really I was just layering ingredients.

Slaving away for supper.

Lucky for me, it turned out in my favor.

Once the lasagna was baked and in my belly, I promptly took a 16 hour nap, gearing up for the weekend festivities.

Pot of gold kickers.

In celebration of the season, I’d gussied up my pink tinsel Christmas Celebration tree and sat to enjoy my Saturday spiked coffee in front of it.

Lucky tree.

Perk Me Up.

Meeting up with friends for the celebration of Irish culture did not make for a dull time.

Lucky ladies.

I’m gonna need these hearts in pink for daily use.

We saw nothing but green until we started to consume cocktails of the day’s hue.

The Queen of green Jell-O shots…

.. might have had me seeing black and white.

While I was busy with Shamrock Shenanigans, my Iowa twins were road tripping down South.

Lucky they’re on their way to see me!

My neck aches for them.

It’s hard to remember just how little these two nuggets were a mere three years ago.

Time flies with twinning fun.

Three years later and still the cutest two shits I know.

Speaking of shits, I’m lucky to know the most fun one in all of Iowa City. My buddy N8 never misses a chance to morph into the best leprechaun every year.

Lucky leaning tower of green.

On Sunday, the actual day of Saint Patrick, I met up with First Mate for a gulp of our favorite boxed rosé. Although we didn’t get the green dye for to properly mark the occasion, we made do.

Pink and green are the perfect pairing.

It was so fabulous outside, we couldn’t resist a patio where Van Waffle asked me to take his picture. The fucking nerve.

My thoughts on being the photographer vs. the model.

All in all, the weekend of sunny skies, fabulous company and fun made me feel like the luckiest girl. Although, what makes my world go round always takes my lucky cake…

Lucky fur mama.

Here’s hoping a little luck comes your way this week.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – Cocktails, Crocs and Kindness

There are some weeks that seem 14 days long and Friday couldn’t have gotten here soon enough. Nashville has been plagued with rain and dreary skies for the last month (not to bitch too much because I know it’s been earth shatteringly freezing above the Mason Dixon Line).

Once the work week was behind me, my gal pal Rasta came over for a little girl’s night in. She’s been under the weather since the holidays and is finally feeling better.

Jazz hands for happy health.

I’ve been cheating on The Pussy Posse with my side hustle, which is pet sitting. I can’t say I don’t love it because look at these faces…

Princess Purr-A-Lot.

Some definite puppy love going on.

Rocco the dog lives in an apartment complex and while I was dropping in on him, I could not help but notice the pile up of shoes at his neighbor’s place. The first visit I just glanced and thought they must have had company. The second visit I noticed that a pair were fucking Croc style knock-offs that were camouflage. I mean, please.

No. Just no.

Some dude actually wears those motherfuckers.

When I posted on my Insta about the in my opinion abhorrent shoes, I received messages with excuses examples of why people have them. My favorite response was that I should burn them to help the guy out. Slappy takes the cake because she has a matching pair with her husband – BUT only for outdoor purposes and they aren’t camo, so that’s OK?

Oh, Slappy….

My Iowa twins spent some much deserved time in Mexican sun after a winter with temperatures bottoming out at -52 degrees.

Riding back to Iowa…

They went from sunny and 80 degrees to about 12 degrees in two hours. Their vehicle needed pushing assistance from helpful Samaritans upon their landing back in Iowa.

Back to the snow.

Just as active as ever, they went from horse back riding to drive way ice skating in a day’s time.

Personal skating rink.

While they were outside burning through energy, their cousin was watching the Nashville Predators all the way in Iowa. Cheering for the yellow team because yours truly likes them. How fucking cute is that?

GO YELLOW TEAM!

So many decisions needed to be made on my behalf regarding Saturday night because I had been properly asked out to supper. I haven’t been out – really out – since Rapegate and this was a fabulous sign that I was excited. I was excited I was excited which means there’s been some major healing on the forefront.

To platform or to platform?

We went to a fabulous foodie restaurant called Husk. Being that I am a frequent guest of lower status restaurants, I had to enlist in the help of Sister CBXB and BIL to guide me with choices, as Husk’s menu changes daily.

I am officially a fucking foodie. Between the crafted cocktails and quality of the meal, I feel like Chili’s isn’t going to be a place I frequent as often.

Never have I ever seen catfish so pretty.

First Mate ended up meeting us out after supper and I stayed all snuggled up on her sofa. Because neither of us can (or like) to cook, she spoiled me with coffee and Bubly the next morning.

Sunday morning two-for-one.

These two knuckleheads were up and at ’em early making the most of their day of rest (which honestly, I don’t think these kids ever rest and relax unless they are asleep in bed).

One version of Sunday Funday.

My version of Sunday Funday.

While enjoying my bloody mary at Dalts, I was recalling the time shortly after Rapegate began, I received a package from a reader when I arrived one Friday night. It was from a complete stranger who knew I frequented my favorite watering hole and contained the sweetest note of encouragement and a bottle of Captain Morgan Private Stock. Funny that this then popped up in my Facebook memories last night.

Speaking of sweet surprises, I received a package with the most purrfect for me present inside.

Truth.

You guys spoil me beyond and know just when a gal needs a smile. Thank you T. Ratt for thinking of me and gifting me my now favorite shirt.

Speaking of faves, you know that Princess B is basically morphing into her crazy aunt.

So many colors. So little time.

Except she has me drooling with envy over her fucking insane hair.

Gorgeous as all get out.

And she knows it.

What better way to end the weekend than with a sudsy soak?

Bubbles make my world go round.

Cheers to a fabulous first full week of March!

CBXB

CBXB!