Weekend Winks – Rapegate, Pool Parties and Fang Fingers

You guys really know how to help a gal when she’s down and out! The overflowing abundance of support from my Rapegate post restored any questionable faith in humanity I may have had prior to posting. Not only was writing about the trauma cathartic for me, as now the matter is out in the open and I can talk about it, but also I didn’t expect the feelings of relief – conflicted with a little bit of fear when I hit the ‘publish’ button on the post.

What’s a gal who likes to celebrate do with mixed emotions and feelings of waves as large of a tsunami? She cracks open a bottle of champs given to her by gal pal Saving Grace (I was saving it for a momentous occasion – and this felt like one) while bawling and laughing at the same time. Yes, I’m still a hot mess.

Cheers to the release of yesteryear! Oh, and of course, FUCK 2016.

The outpouring of your support – my army that each and every one of you reading right now is a part of – lifted me up so high, so fast I just can’t thank you enough for the kind words, comments, messages, cards, letters, sharing of your own traumas, calls, texts and visits. While I might be Captain Sparkly Pants, you all have been nothing short of soldiers supporting one of their own. For that, I thank the fuck out of you.

Every single portion of Rapegate has been riddled with road bumps. So it’s onward and upward as I move forward, navigating unknown terrain even to my Sex Crimes Detective. We’ll get that worked out, I’m sure.

The wrong woman was fucked. Literally and figuratively.

Warm fuzzies are creeping back into the cracks of my emotions. My heart swelled a little when my phone reminded me over the weekend of cherished moments my sister and Gma shared on the last days of our grandma’s life. Of course, I had a picture of my stank-eyed pussy Ted, too, from that day.

Three of my favorite peeps still today.

When I texted the photos to my sister, we talked about how fast it’s gone – feeling like maybe it should be the first year.

It’s true. In two years, our extended family has gone through two divorces, a birth (yay!), rape (that’d be mine), cancer (that’d be Aunt Crazy Pants), a cross-country move for a cousin….just to name a few.

While reminiscing over the last two years, Facebook had an amusing memory from five years ago of Dada CBXB and I having a patio party, after we’d done some planting (in pots, to which didn’t make of course).

Funny, we already had plans to ‘decorate’ my mini manse loggia (fancy word I learned from a previous, rich employer that means back porch as I kept saying back porch and she kept correcting me that it was a loggia). So we hit up the flower hot spot for ferns, all pink flowers and some sort of palm thing that is going to go great with my pink flamingo (of course a gal like me has plant accessories before the actual plant).

Green thumbs galore.

Because that thirty minutes was so exhausting, we spent the rest of the day playing at the pool.

Fun fun in the sun.

My favorite pussy also likes to relax in the rays but I just can’t help myself and have to take a picture. This is always the glare I get when I get caught mid snap.

Resting bitchy face with a case of the side eye.

Wanna know what those two Iowa twins are up to? Well, first off they have graduated from pre-school.

Get out the caps and gowns.

Naturally, this meant celebrating was in order and they didn’t hate one minute of it.

Starting with snow cones.

Celebration splash pad style.

Their parents even took them to see where it all began. At the bar in Iowa City, where my sister approached her future husband at the very booth below for a cigarette (obviously the trashtacular classiness runs in the family). He didn’t smoke (neither did she) but it all worked out and here we are today…

Taking it back to where all of the magic began.

Being that they’d visited a festival, Princess B had to get her face painted – and clearly thought it was poorly done as you can see from the photo below.

Hello gorgeous.

Graduating from pre-school also calls for dessert.

Sweets for the sweets.

Dessert that was good to the last drop.

Yep. Definitely takes after her aunt CBXB.

Something else seeping back in through the cracks of this gal is nail painting and t-shirt bedazzling. Nashville’s NHL team, the Nashville Predators have made it to the Stanley Cup finals (for those of you who don’t know hockey – it’s like the Superbowl. For those of you who don’t know what that is, just look at the nails and sparkly shirt below) for the first time ever in our franchise’s history. I joined in on the fanfare with Predator colored nails and blinged up a shirt to boot.

Fang Fingers is what the crowd does here in Nashville when the opposing team has to go to the penalty box. They play the music from the shower scene in Psycho and fans seriously stand there and move two fingers from both hands in a clawing motion. We may look like ass clowns but we don’t care. Also, I was so pumped to get this shirt because aside from getting to see our mascot Gnash come down from the ceiling before every game, I can’t ever wait to do Fang Fingers.

All out sparkle for my fave Cinderella NHL team.

The Predators were on no one’s radar and have had the heart, fight and spirit of Nashville behind them. For real, the entire city could not be more proud. This is a photo of the main artery in Nashville on game day. It stemmed from the stadium with an overflow of people who couldn’t get in to the game (due to the insane ticket prices) down ten blocks to the river. Not to mention the packed bars and restaurants.

Game day in Smashville.

While the Preds are behind in the series 2-1, you can help cheer them on with me at 7pm CST on NBCSN.  They whooped some ass on Saturday with final score being 5-1. Badasses.

Speaking of badass, here’s how I pumped up my mental state closing out the weekend.

The inner badass is coming back…

You guys are my badasses. My army of badasses. I love each and every one of you.

Hooah!

CBXB

CBXB!

Vegas Style Twerkin’ Cool Down

Ah…spending the day at the Hard Rock pool Rehab as a Vegas first timer was quite the eye opener. With the drunken shenanigans taking place all around, I sealed myself in tightly with my two new gay besties, who happened to be sporting the best t-shirts of all time. A kitty DJ tee for one and a tank that read $uper Rich for the other.

Horsie head

My newly acquired Vegas besties. Kitty Cat DJ and $uper Rich as horse head.

While I sat back and drank (guzzled) poolside cocktails these two were busy twerking for any stranger that would stop and take a gander.

Twerk it

Over twerked and on the ground.

Of course all of this bouncing around will make one ultra hot. But instead of cooling off in the more traditional way of sucking down a pina colada, we though it would be way more fun to start the cooling process bottom up.

Twerk

Twerked out? LOL.

twerk

We’ll be happy to help cool you off.

ice

Step 1: Prepare for ice.

twerk

Step 2: Insert ice.

ice

Step 3: Fill to brim.

Packi it up packit in

Step 4: Pack it up, pack it in.

twerk

Step 5: Allow no movement while ice melts.

melting...

Step 6: Enjoy the numbness that has overcome your lower body.

As you can tell, the poolside cocktails made us masters in the talents of a twerking cool down. Feel free to use our technique on your buddies this weekend.

You’re welcome Miley Cyrus.

CBXB

CBXB!

How to go to Rehab in Vegas and Not Get Peed on by R. Kelly

Yes, I went to Rehab in Vegas. And no it’s not the typical rehab you’re thinking of (it’s OK mom, no need to have a heart attack).

The Hard Rock Casino’s pool is known as Rehab and while I was gracing Vegas with my presence, the pool celebrated its 10th anniversary with none other than R. Kelly hosting the party AND performing.  How could I not go once I was invited by friends who were staying at the casino?

LOL

Me not attend a shindig? LOL.

Security was beyond tight, getting into the pool.  I was frisked up one side and down the other, had to take my sunglasses and hat off and my wallet was violated by dirty security guard fingers poking through its contents. My sunscreen was sniffed and the book my friend brought (yeah, not sure why we thought a book was appropriate for this party) was combed through. After this search, any airport security shenanigans will forever feel like a breeze.

Once granted entry, a peaceful (not for long) oasis awaited our arrival.  If you can, acquire a lounger if at all financially possible or you will get to stand in the yellow (that’s surely supposed to be blue) wading pool all day, waiting for your toenails to fall off.

Acquire a lounger if at all financially possible.

For your safety, put a towel between your body and the cushion. Just sayin’.

We had no problems getting all cozy and pretending as if this was an everyday occurrence in life.  For instance, when the waitress came by and told us about “the amazing special we have today for our anniversary. It’s a bottle of Ketel One Citroen and it’s only $495,” my jaw only remained open for 13 seconds instead of the typical 25 minutes that this kind of information would implore me to do. Nor did I say that I could go get that same bottle for $30 at my liquor store. Nor did I ask how much a bottle of $9 Skol vodka would cost. That’s how well I pretended. Impressed, aren’t you?

No big deal

Please. We do this every day. Can I get a tap water?

After my “I’m not impressed at your expensive price for regular liquor face” I couldn’t help but notice the buckets of Bud Light (only $75 for 12 – such a fair price) and the bottles of Ketel One being delivered to the Argentinian bachelor party bed in front of us.

Rehab

Upon conversing with the tipsy crew, they asked us if Sunday came after Saturday. Wonder what was really in the Ketel One bottles…

When the sticker shock sinks in, go to the bar (and be sure the bartender is the opposite sex) about 22 times and ask to sample the frozen drinks because you’re just not sure which one you want.

Sampler platter.

Sampler platter. That’s how I roll.

Attire is key when attending a soiree hosted by R. Kelly.  It’s important that you put on your finest threads.

Finest threads

Yes, I said threads.

It’s always more fun when you meet new friends, so go do it.

I saw this tall drink of gay water walking out of the pool with his tank top reading $uper Rich.  Our newfound friendship became further solidified when his partner came up in his DJ Angel Kitty tank. Yes, I said DJ Angel Kitty (and yes, my cray cray over my cat, Ted came up in conversation about 1.4 million times upon laying eyes on Dude #2’s shirt).

Gaywich

CBXB gaywich.

Angel kitty

Hello. I think we’re clothing soul mates.

If you’re worried about covering up your less-than-perfect body parts, no worries – you will fit right in at Rehab. I mean, check this gentleman out. As you can see, he was feeling a little insecure about his chest. But the beer belly was out in full glory.

Not this guy with his beer belly AC.

The beer belly AC technique.

When the host started singing, folks were a tad worried about getting pissed on. At least that’s what everyone kept saying (as he’s apparently known for doing this to women, specifically. Classy guy).

No peeing!

I didn’t see any urine.

Bananas

These people would have had zero clue if it even started raining, let alone if any type of body excrement fell on them.

Hearing all of this talk about number one led me to do some hiding, so that I could remain in a pristine, slightly sweaty state.

Hide behind a flag

I hid behind a flag with all of my new buddies.

Or a horse head.

I hid behind a horse head.

Or borrow a hat from a stranger and hide under it.

My friend borrowed a hat from a stranger and hid under it.

Hide behind friends

Lastly, I hid under a dog pile. I refused to get pissed on!

After playing hide and seek from the party host, keep the party going by twerking in front of complete strangers.

Twerk it

Nice angle.

Then help your new gay bestie keep the dance going by spanking him to the beat of songs.

Keep it going

Seriously? You like this?

And twerk.

My hand hurts.

Once everyone’s dancing heartbeats are back to a resting state, grab another cocktail and keep the nothing but classy Rehab anniversary party alive (further assuring your spot in a different kind of rehab in the future. Maybe even the next day).

New gay Argentinian

This is our party, we can do what we want.

As you’re having too much fun, you’ll lose track of time and suddenly look around at an empty pool and spy two police men, giving you the evil eye to get the F out of the area.

Oops

Two of LV’s nicest and finest giving our crew the boot – after we snapped a pic, of course.

And that my friends is how you survive an R. Kelly hosted Rehab party at the Hard Rock.

Any questions?

CBXB

CBXB!