Weekend Winks – Face Stuffing, Pool and Panic Attacks

The sun will come out….tomorrow. Or at least that’s what you wanna believe. In my case, I just wear a shirt that makes me my own sunshine. Of course, having a little snuggly Teddy Bear helps, too.

Love of my life.

Lately Rapegate therapy has been pretty intense. To the point where afterward, instead of crying my eyes out immediately upon my return home in bed, this week I morphed into what could be the most white trash way to consume supper. Guzzling wine in the bath, trying to read while eating toilet pizza and then bawling my eyes out in bed.

Pretty much sums it up.

Being that my therapy is on Thursday nights, I have an emotional hangover no matter what on Friday, that sometimes lasts through the weekend. Sometimes it doesn’t but you know what helps? Friends who know your deep down hopes and dreams, friends who know what will make you smile, while your heart races with thanks that somebody fucking finally brought this idea to fruition…door delivery wine. *swoon*

           

However, even this wonderful news of not having to leave my mini manse in order to get my vino fix didn’t knock me out of my therapy hangover. Running one errand to the grocery store, as I was leaving in the 100 degree heat, a full on fucking panic attack rushed over my body out of nowhere, like an asteroid dropped out of the sky and plummeted me into the middle of the scorching Earth.

If you’ve never had a panic attack (mine is a leftover perk of rape – yay!), I hear they mimic a heart attack. For me, I feel like a cat the size of a lion is hanging out on my chest, I sweat, shake, can’t catch my breath (which shouldn’t shock anyone who knows me as I once hyperventilated when I ran the mile in track during junior high – although I did redeem myself years later jogging slowly through a marathon), clinch my fists so hard my nails almost poke through the tops of my hands and I lose all comprehension that this sudden sense of overwhelming dread will ever end.

But it does.

And I end up looking (and feeling) I’ve been on a four-week cocaine bender with no sleep, when in all actuality, it was a mere 10 minutes.

Panic…but not at the disco.

After regaining semblance of normal heart rate and the ability to breathe in and out like a typical human, I resorted to the little Iowa faces that always drag me out of my low points.

How could these two not take away feelings of being blue?

Being that I’m not a quitter, the typical pool crew and I packed our coolers and headed up to beat the Tennessee heat.

Dada CBXB, Rasta, the shit show of the weekend (yours truly) and Cat Boy kept cool in the Saturday sun.

I refrained from my usual pool snacks, as I was invited to the hottest party in Nashville Saturday night.

A black card to the Waffle House is equivalent to $25,000 gift card to Target. And not only did we class the joint up, we sure as shit tried to spend the entire amount.

Not unhappy campers.

We’ll have one of everything. Thanks.

While we didn’t even come close to cashing out the entire card, we were able to leave a $100 tip for our waitress with remaining funds and boy, did it feel fucking fantastic watching her reaction from the car. A dance, a hug from the cook, a high-five from the other wait staff. Pretty cool of my gal pal to pay it forward.

Sunday while I was trying to detox from the overload of hash browns and eight orders of bacon the night before, my little fur balls were pretty pissy that they couldn’t go out on the porch due to the extremely high temperatures.

They really wanted to be baked pussy.

Guess who was just fine with the inside time?

The pussy that never turns away attention.

It was a much needed, uneventful Sunday at the mini manse. Complete with binge watching and burgers.

Here’s hoping there’s no panic in any of our lives this week and cheers to being our own rays of sunshine!

CBXB

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!

 

Star Spangled Shenanigans

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

And 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

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Laborious Loungin’

A long Nashville weekend with no definite plans AND college football season kicking off? Hello Heaven.

Herky Rules, you drool.

Herky rules, you drool.

Oh yes, that’s right. Herky the Hawk is my boy toy of the football season.  I cheer on the Iowa Hawkeyes (unfortunately for me, I’m sure you’re thinking) which is going to be pretty brutal this season after viewing Saturday’s game. But I had to proudly wear my college colors on Friday, as it was “Celebrate College Colors Day,” and I pretty much look for any reason to jump on a celebration band wagon.

Catch up

Friday fun night.

A gang of happy hour folks welcomed the long weekend with open arms (and Fireball, Skinny Pirates, beer, vodka and gin) as we waved goodbye to summer. I kept having to tell inquiring bar minds reading my shirt that yes, the Iowa Hawkeyes are a college football team (there really are other conferences outside of the SEC) and yes, my boyfriend is a bird. Jesus. What is it with people?!

Ted was SO over me not coming straight home from work and fawning all over him that he pretended to be going to bed as I arrived home around 7pm.

You don't see me...

I’m just going to turn in five hours early, since I now hate you for hanging out with your friends for a whole two hours.

I coaxed the Bear out of his bed and let him watch me try on outfits for game day – and he could barely glance my way without the look of pure, utter annoyance all over his furry face (that or he thought my skirt was hideous).

Game day

Would you acknowledge me in public?

The start of football season also means tailgating food. Holla! To say my mom’s taco dip was devoured on Saturday would be an understatement.

Taco dip

Tasty tailgating treat time!

We kept up with our tradition of doing a shot every time our team scored…

Touchdown!

Touchdown!

…which we kinda worried about when our Hawks hit 24 points.

Smooth?

Smooth?

But then we quit scoring after the third quarter and we were stone cold sober by the time we lost in the last ten seconds of the game. Boo. Hiss.

You wanna know who else was being a hissy face? His Royal Highness Teddy Bear was beyond irritated that I was going out on Sunday evening, as he sat perched on my hamper (yes, it’s pink AND sparkly) while watching me get all gussied up for the honky tonks.

Seriously?!

Seriously?! You’re going out for the third day in a row?

What’s a holiday weekend without a PBR and Miller High Life at Robert’s Western World?

Honky Tonk Time!

Honky Tonk Time!

You’d think that going to the bar with your folks would be the best man repellent ever. But somehow, I still managed to get a marriage proposal and had the inability to shake a “will not get the hint” dude who kept wanting to dance. I should have just had my not-so-tiny 6’4″ dad stand up to shoo them away.

Yeehaw!

Do you have their blessing, Mr. Marriage Proposal?

Next time, I’m bringing Mr. Bear to fend off sweaty cowboys.

Saved you a seat...

I saved you a seat…why were you a no-show?

Arriving home, the feline in my life was once again pretending to be in bed.

Can't get situated...

I swear I’ve been here all night.

I coaxed the little monster out of his ‘slumber’ for some late night snacking and catching up on Dexter (Holy shit – so good. I can’t believe there are only three more episodes!).

Snack attack

Snack attack.

I enjoyed an entire pool (I have no clue why my neighbors don’t want to roast in the sun – it’s like they care about their skin or something) to myself on Labor Day (while trying to capture the photo, I almost dropped my phone in the water. The things I do for a post! I mean, how could you ever have imagined an empty pool without a photo with half of my face in it?) before the rain came to ruin my lazy, lounging fun.

Pool time

Pool photo fail.

And as I left for work today, someone had not moved a muscle through the alarm, shower, hair dryer, TV and breakfast shenanigans.

Tired Ted

Too much together time makes for one tired Ted.

It’s like he wanted me to leave already. What an ass.

CBXB

CBXB!

Who Shit in the Baby Pool?

Growing up, my sister and I had the fortune of being raised alongside our kinfolk (I live in the South now, so I can use that word like it’s no big deal and still relevant in this century. Although I only ever heard it once growing up, in a history book).  A batch of our cousins would visit for weeks at a time in the summer and being in such a small town, we made our own fun. Like getting the garden hose out and filling up a plastic pool on the deck to swim (even when you feel WAY too grown up to get into it).

As it goes with family, you often times become so comfortable, you can let it all hang out (sometimes quite literally).  On the specific day in the photo below, we had an absolute surprise from my cousin T.  He was particularly lazy, not wanting to get out of the pool for a bathroom break.

What's that smell?

What’s that smell?

That’s the little shit (pun intended) T in the back, concentrating on his masterpiece. My sister is on the left, splashing with oblivious delight, as I sit next to her in my Rainbow Brite swimsuit, not amused. Of course T’s big brother in front thinks it’s all kinds of hilarious.  Being trashy is knowing better but doing it anyway, not giving a rat’s ass what anyone thinks.  And T absolutely knew better but rejoiced in seeing our squeals of disgust and overreaction to the floater in the baby pool.

Although, I’m thinking a turd in a plastic pool was a step up from where my folks originally took me to swim…in mud puddles (because that’s all kinds of sanitary, yes?) where it looked like someone had previously taken a dump.

Mud buddies.

The original Honey Boo Boo.

No pool? No worries. Just find a hole on a gravel road and insert kids! Luckily for me, I had on long pants unlike my teeny weeny friend Erica who got to soak in all of the benefits of a gravel pit with her short overalls.

Now that’s nothing if not fabulous trash.

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Weeks – Redneck Style

The South gets a bad rap for people doing stupid things and I wanted to jump on the bandwagon this past weekend. Doesn’t it make sense to have a couple of cocktails and then get guns out of the closet?

Red neck? Fabulously trashy? Ultra stupid to give me a machine gun?

Redneck? Fabulously trashy? Ultra stupid to give me a machine gun?

First Mate and Mr. Mate recently got home from vacation, setting up shop in their front yard. Naturally, I needed to go and see what the hell they’d been up to so we convened at their palace Friday evening.

You can see why we're friends, right?

You can see why we’re friends, right?

After a few rounds of Skinny Pirates, Mr. Mate decided it’d be a good time to show me a gun he recently handcrafted. Smart, yes?

Palm trees, cactus and a horse...what more could one ask for?

Palm trees, cactus and a horse…what more could I need? A homemade machine gun, of course.

Billy Bad Ass.

You can stop holding your breath.  This piece wasn’t loaded.

This is heavy.

Reacting to the heaviness of this metal –  I could never be Rambo.

Photo bombing Mr. Mate as he was trying to have a pic snapped of him. I'm such a bitch.

Photo bombing Mr. Mate as he was trying to have a pic snapped of himself and his weapons. I’m such a bitch.

Since I consider myself a professional photo bomber, I always love to see the work of other PBs in action. Look what my friend’s dog did to her sweet baby…

Cute baby bombed by Spanky the dog.

Spanky the dog should probably be my side kick.

You know how my kit cat Teddy has been such a shit about the entire moving process we’ve been going through the last month and refused to snuggle with me for weeks on end? Look what I woke up to on Saturday morning.  A wet nose, a tiny smile and major purring. We’re back together again!

He's baaaaack1

All is forgiven. FINALLY.

After my morning love fest, I took my rear outside and revamped a tired, light green wicker chair I inherited from my folks. One coat of metallic silver and poof! New life for the old chair (hope my parents never want it back).

Never met a spray paint I didn't like

Never met a can of spray paint I didn’t love.

My ever-constant hero, Dad came in to remedy a slight problem in my laundry closet. A washer and dryer that won’t let the doors slide shut. Oops.

Dad to the rescue!

Dad to the rescue!

Who needs doors when you can hang a shower curtain? Holla!

Laundry hero!

Laundry hero!

While I was busy making my dad sweat away,  my little cuties from Iowa were having a pool party. Looks like my niece B is taking after her Auntie CBXB. She can ‘turn it on’ whenever she sees a camera. My nephew B on the other hand, can’t quite figure the damn contraption out.

Camera!

Camera!

What the what?

What the what?

First Mate pimped out Mr. Mate on Saturday evening for all kinds of hanging shit up fun at my new mini-manse.

Husband honey do for some other chick is any man's dream come true on a Saturday night.

Husband honey do for some other chick is any man’s dream come true on a Saturday night, right?

Our (his) efforts were a huge success, as we got my ‘piece de resistance’ mirror up, centered perfectly (I had nothing to do with that) on the wall. Celebrate!

We wanted to capture the spirit of Johnny Cash. Did we do it?

We wanted to capture the spirit of Johnny Cash. Did we do it?

All of the bossing around on Saturday evening really wore me out, so on Sunday I busted a move up to the pool and there was no one else there!

Peaceful pool.

Private pool.  That’s how I roll.

Upon my return to the mini manse, I was greeted with water dripping out of my bathroom light fixture. You can imagine how thrilled I was – especially since this is the second leak I’ve had in less than a month.

Leaks are fun. Especially when you've had two in 30 days. Neat.

Leaks are fun.

Before using the saucepan above for a tiny swimming pool, I made my second supper in the new place. Skinny spaghetti, which inadvertantly ended up looking like Mickey Mouse.

Which strangely ended up looking like Mickey Mouse.

Sorry Minnie.

Ted remains completely famfoozled over the noises coming from above him (you know, neighbors walking around), so he parked it on the bar for the remainder of the weekend to de-stress.

Taking after his mother.

Taking after his mother.

Cheers to a fabulous week!

CBXB

CBXB!