Weekend Winks – Moonshine-a-Rita Style

My Nashville weekend was full of cats (naturally), a little singing, snacks and all kinds of cocktails.

Being that I was about to piss my pants upon entering my mini manse Friday after work, I was unable to stop and conduct my typical greeting to my adoring felines. Not having any of that, Mr. Needypants wouldn’t leave me alone for all of 32 seconds to go to the bathroom.

Can't even piss without a cat in my lap.

Crazy cat lady can’t even piss without a cat in lap.

After showering New Cat with the appropriate affection on the toilet, I rushed around as was hosting a vocal rehearsal for No Name Band and needed to pull the proper ingredients for a successful evening.

Friday night delight

Successful ingredient #1: A buffet of Captain for Skinny Pirates.

Snack attack.

Successful ingredient #2: A few ‘healthy’ snacks.

While all of the rehearsal shenanigans were taking place inside, these two couldn’t have cared less what was going on.

My less than impressed audience.

Curiosity definitely not killing these cats.

Earlier in the day, I received a brand new (to me) queen size bed (I’ve been sleeping double my entire adult life) for free and was beyond excited to give it the first test run.

Happy for all of three minutes.

Happy for all of three minutes.

Being that the bed is solid as a rock…I got about two hours of sleep.  But beggars can’t be choosy, right?

While visiting my folks this past weekend, I gave little Elvis a manicure, which he was none-too-thrilled about receiving.

Stop. Mani time.

Stop. Mani time.

It turns out that my niece, Princess B does a pretty good imitation of her feline uncle.

Takes after her feline uncle.

Cray cray cat lady in the making.

Although Father’s Day was a month ago and I am absolutely behind on gift giving (I just like to streeeeetch a holiday out, OK?) I lovingly wrapped up Dad’s gift in my fave hue.

Pink Present.

Pretty in pink.

Teeny tiny hose.

What gigantic man doesn’t need a teeny tiny pocket hose?

I couldn’t stop laughing my ass off at my nephew Prince B, who just learned the meaning of  ‘cheese’ before a photo.


First time cheeser.

Saturday evening called for some low-key cocktails and company.

Saturday night's alrigh

Saturday night mini soiree.

Snack Queen

Of course the Snack Queen had to have munchies.

After a few libations, we got the Moonshine-a-Rita out for a taste testing.

Mooneshine-a-rita. Boob Juice.

Moonshine-a-rita is also known as Boob Juice (as will make clothes fall off if too much is consumed).

Naturally, I couldn’t just stop with one Boob Juice shot.

Shot # ?

Feels so good when it hits the lips.

And the over consumption of moonshine lead to (no, not clothes falling off – get your head out of the damn gutter!) photo bombing.

Photo bomb!

Sober or tipsy, I’ve got the skills for ruining a pic.

All of the party shenanigans made NC feel drunk by association.

Pussy passed out with PBR. So proud.

My pussy passed out with PBR. So proud.

Once we had a leaning chair calling for someone to sit in, we decided it was time to call the sober drivers.

Call cabs.

Ominous sign of a broken tailbone.

Detoxing by the pool was a fabulous way to spend Sunday.

Detox with sun

Sunglasses hide sins.

In between sips of a bloody mary and dips in the pool, I ran to my fave Hallmark store to purchase a must-have ornament.

Frosen. Christmas in July

Christmas in July with a Frozen theme.

I couldn’t wait to get my hands on this year’s Christmas Vacation ornament, which did not disappoint.


I got the last one – fate!

After the holiday shopping spree and the pool, I was greeted back to the mini manse with two feuding felines on the porch.

Two feuding felines. Ted can't keep his big mouth shut. Wonder where he picked those skills up?

Ted can’t keep his big mouth shut…I’ve possibly been a bad influence.

Giving my precious pussies a lecture in love, I showed them the sibling fondness occurring in Iowa.

why can't they just get along like my B & B?

Why can’t my cats love like B & B?

Apparently the visual sunk in, as this is how we spent the rest of our Sunday.

Come to find out, they kissed and made up.

The kiss and make-up session.

Here’s hoping your week is off to a fabulous start!



Weekend Winks – Single in the Sizzlin’ City

Girls just want to have fun is a severely underused statement, as was proven by the party I hosted for gal pals this past weekend.

Cheers to the ladies!

Cheers to the ladies!

Instead of a red carpet roll out, I had a piece of khaki carpet all dazzled up for everyone’s arrival.

Rolled out the khaki carpet

White trash version of the real deal.

Truth: my neighbors upstairs just moved in and left this on the sidewalk. Everyone loves a soaking wet, nasty piece of used carpet sloshing under their heels. Am I right, ladies?

An ode to our beloved show “Sex and the City,” we gussied up as our fave characters from the show.

Triple threat.

We know. We know. Dead ringers for Samantha, Miranda and Carrie.

What party would be complete without favors?

Party favors

Cocktails for everyone!

When you live in a mini manse with no storage, you don’t keep things like an ice cooler on hand. So you substitute a sink in its place.

Ice ice baby.

Ice ice baby.

My group of girls are serious about their party food. God forbid we go three minutes without the ability of shoving something in our not-so-quite mouths.

Chicken coming out of our ears.

Chicken nuggets galore.

Food galore

The added veggie tray among dips, chips and sausage wrapped cheese made us feel ‘healthy’.

Instead of gathering around and watching an episode of our favorite TV show of yesteryear, I decided to force gather the gals around and get their feedback on my sizzle reel.

Sizzlin' it. Just a little bit.

I fed them plenty of alcohol before this preview, so naturally they loved it.

While I was showing off skull rings, I incorporated a ring pop into the mix.

Ring Pop, anyone?

The gaudier the better.

When my pal, Bird Lady (we felt each other’s pain a few years ago working for the same über rich, wannabe country singer) said she’d never heard of a ring pop, I nearly forced my naughty finger clad with a sucker down her throat.

What's a ring pop?

Ring pop for one, please.

Of course no party is complete without a photobombing attack from yours truly.


Not the first nor last time First Mate’s photo will be ruined by my photobombing expertise.

As the evening crept into the wee hours of the morning, we started making silly decisions. Like my Georgia friend Podunk, who swore to her husband that she’d stick to beer.

No shots for Podunk. Hubby's orders!

Yes, I’ll take a whiskey shot please.

Down the hatch

32 shots later….

Fully loaded with liquor we turned into a think tank around 2am, brainstorming ideas and writing them on our makeshift white board…paper towels hung from my busted up blinds.

Think tank.

We become geniuses after midnight. And 46 combined cocktails.

When the clock struck 3:30 am, we didn’t turn into pumpkins. Nope, not us. We turned into supermodels.

"Look sexy"

We know. We know. Dead ringers for Claudia Schiffer, Cindy Crawford and Elle Macpherson.

When heads finally hit pillows at 4:30am (after a rousing 3am rendition on my piano of chopsticks – you’re welcome neighbors) six minutes seemed to pass before the sun came up. Upon opening the freezer door to retrieve ice for much needed water later that morning, I was greeted with a leftover cocktail next to my Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Fire (have you tried this yet? It’s better than Fireball, FYI).

Good morning. Freezer finds.

Freezer finds.

Leftovers, anyone?

Leftovers, anyone?


Apparently we were extremely thirsty.

How does one recover from an all night estrogen party? Lay by your private pool. (Which is typically full of screaming kids and chatty parents – somehow the universe just knew I needed quiet time).

Enjoying private pool

Pool for one.

New Cat recovered from the festivities by laying on top of every single piece of literature I tried to read the rest of the weekend.

Reading the newspaper blocker. Cat blocker

Cat blocker.

While Prince Charming could do nothing but scowl about loud ladies keeping him up past his precious bedtime.

If looks could kill...

Read my face, I hate you.

If looks could kill…

Here’s hoping you have a fabulous week.




What Happens in Vegas Gets Posted on a Blog

Finally recuperated enough to reminisce about my first trip to Vegas last weekend, I thought it’d only be fair to share shenanigans with you…

Holy shit!

This drink was free! I love this place!

Some of my gal pals were smart and rested up on the four-hour plane ride to Vegas…

Rest up

Visions of jackpots danced in their heads.

While my seat mate and I were busy hoarding every ounce of liquor possible to get a head start on fun.


We’re the smart ones, yes?!

We're heeeeere!

We’re heeeeere!

Upon landing we gathered our luggage and headed to the MGM Grand Casino.

It's grand, yo!

It’s grand, yo!

Having our complimentary casino cocktails in hand, we stood in a corner people watching where we happened to run into snazzy looking gents on a bachelor party. First impressed by their suits, upon opening their mouths we swooned, as they were from England and had that accent. *Sigh* Once the fellas started talking to us, one of our extremely intelligent ladies asked, “Are you guys from British?”

Smart suits

I don’t care if you’re from British or not, just look at the camera so I can capture this Kodak moment.

After the bachelor party carried onto do whatever it is bachelor parties do in Vegas (does one really have to wonder?), I got busy doing what I do best.

Photo bombing.


Oh, you wanted a photo without yours truly? I don’t think so!


This is a very hard hobby, but someone’s gotta ruin other people’s pics.

Very busy

Love what they’ve done with the background, don’t you?

While I was busy ass clowning around, our gal pal C Money went over to play some penny slots. And then this happened….



Just when you thought no one won on penny slots – BOOM! And, this was within the first three hours of our Vegas arrival.


Celebrate we must.

After crawling into bed at 8am the following morning, it only made sense for me to sit my ass at the pool all day. While on my way to act like a beached whale,  I took the liberty of introducing myself to what could only be described as my soul mate…I mean, he made his own mirrored jacket.

Shiny soulmate

Shiny soul mates.

Deciding which pool to lounge around proved to be a tad difficult…

Lazy river

How do you choose between four pools?

Naturally, I went for the most quiet, relaxing spot in all of the MGM Grand pools.

So relaxing. Bumper floats.

So relaxing. Bumper floats.

In between naps, this gentleman asked our group to pretty please re-pierce his ears. We happily obliged.


You can just keep that hoop, Bra. Looks better on you anyhow.

While I did not gamble one cent away in Vegas, I still had some good juju going on. I scored a free ticket to the I Heart Radio Music Festival at the MGM Grand. For a split second I thought about scalping the ticket, as they were going for $480 but thought better of it, as this was a once in a lifetime experience.

I heart radio!

A free ticket with no strings attached? Yes please!

Keeping my liver well hydrated was my main focus on this trip. Thank God we packed the moonshine, as this helped wash away all of the hours of sleep I wasn’t giving to my body.


Who needs sleep when you got moonshine?

Morphing into our best bad asses, we partied at the Hard Rock Casino with Motley Crue.

Crew at Motley Crue

Our crew at Crue.

Bad Ass 1 and 2

We know. We’re so bitchin’.

Hanging with rock stars Saturday night, called for some recovery time at the Hard Rock Casino pool – known as Rehab (which my mother nervously Googled when I told her I was headed to rehab).


Again with the quiet, relaxing pool day.

Horsie head

What is more serene than hanging out with a new crew – one sporting a horse head? Nothing.

Being one of the last few escorted (surprised? I just didn’t want the party to end!) out of the pool after sundown, I headed to my room to find my own jackpot left for me by one of my girlfriends…

Winner winner chicken dinner!

Winner winner chicken dinner!

As I rounded up the aftermath of my Vegas trip and tried shoving it all in my suitcases, I knew that this city and I had just consummated the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Can't wait

I can’t wait to go back.

But it’s probably wise to give Las Vegas a breather before hitting it like a sparkly, loud, sleepless, sort-of-inebriated, photo bombing Tasmanian devil again.

NashVegas will have to do for now.