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

 

Leopard Lovin’ Pot

I don’t really care for the plain and usual if it can be funky and fabulous.

And after my couch mending (see My Cat is Bitchier Than Your Cat), I thought of another way to use the leopard duct tape (it’s not just for couch corners and eye glasses anymore, folks!) for sprucing up my flowerpots.  I always want the pretty, colored planters but hate parting with the loot (happy hours aren’t always cheap when you drink a fine liquor like Captain Morgan – well specials just won’t cut it), so I usually stick with the boring old plastic containers. And then, a stroke of genius appeared with the little miracle of duct tape (once again, Dad’s right. It really can be used for everything).

Here’s what you’ll need:

Get your favorite duct tape (I’d do anything but the silver. Then it really looks like you’ve broken the pot and are taping it back together. You’re classier than that!), scissors and packing tape.

Cut the duct tape into strips – I did about 4″-5″ per piece. If you do anything longer, the tape will start to bend up and the lines won’t be as straight (I’m a picky perfectionist – if it doesn’t bother you, don’t worry about it).

Once you have covered the entire pot with the decorative duct tape, use the clear packing tape over the entire area (same size of strips). This will help the duct tape from peeling and acts as a water barrier if you keep your plant outside (it’s rained for days since my pot received its makeover and all tape is still in tact).

I’ve never seen a fern quite so happy to be confined to a flowerpot, have you?

And that my fabulous friends is how to turn a boring old brown flowerpot into some fine lookin’ flower power. Get to it!

CBXB

The One Year Patio Project

It’s true. My patio took one year to complete.

Not because I live on sprawling acres with a mansion’s worth of outdoor space to spruce up. But because I was waiting on a man (when will I learn my lesson?) to help me complete it.

When I first moved into my place, the landlord had set trash cans on a perfectly fabulous stone nook by my entryway.  I really didn’t want garbage to be the first impression left upon folks when pulling into my mini-manse.  I moved the trash to the side of my house and a small patio set took its place. Being greedy, I wanted to expand my patio real estate to give a very impressive impression to my friends who always come over (so what if they are usually the mail carrier, UPS or the water meter reader?! Don’t judge me. My friends are very busy procreating).

Upon hearing me whine for more patio space, my dad suggested purchasing square stone and if I did, he would level and install (and some other fancy handy man vocab) them for me. My mom bought the additional stone for me as a house warming gift and we unloaded them and there they sat…and sat…and sat. Because it was too hot outside, the ground was too wet, the ground was frozen, or it was too cold to tolerate to work on the patio, etc…the stones sat all by their lonesome. Until this past summer when the stars were aligned perfectly in the sky and my dad came in to finish the hard work he suggested starting.

The stones getting settled into their new home. Red, brickface patio stone, $4.07. Lowe’s.

But with all of the digging and leveling, the area looked like a place Joe Dirt would be proud to call his own.  Anticipating the whine calf I was about to become, my dad (who is apparently psychic) suggested we invest in some decorative rock.

We found this rock on sale the Home Depot for $1.00 a bag. And promptly bought all of the bags because now, I could have a rock empire since it was something I could afford to purchase.

Upon saving so much loot in the clearance rock, Dad thought he should plant some hostas to add as the cherries on top of my sprawling patio kingdom.

And of course a few hostas were not going to do the trick for this Queen of the Rock Pile, so I commissioned the planting of more! more! more! crowned jewels.

With the addition of six more hostas, my perfect patio plans were executed (by my dad, as I directed placement and kept cool with a cocktail).

The Patio Palace in all of its glory!

And when I think about the nearly 365 day construction phase of this patio, I must thank the project manager, Dad, for making me realize that good things do come to those who wait. And wait. And wait. And wait (sometimes not so patiently). Now I have a patio, complete with a side wing for a fire pit, hostas for atmosphere and plenty of room to rub elbows. All for under $60.

The beauty and the brains (you can decide who’s who) of patio perfecting.

CBXB