Weekend Winks – Sleeping, Sunning and Celebrating Beauties

There are 168 hours in seven days time. Last week, I think my eyes may have been open a solid 24 hours maximum. I caught some sort of bug that made me incapable from seeing the back of my eye lids. When I tried to go to work on Wednesday, I sat down to have coffee on the couch at 6am after 12 hours of sleep and suddenly woke up at noon.

Couch potatoes.

When I did make it into work on Friday, I sounded and looked stoned. My eyes were little slits, so being the 90-year-old I’d morphed into, I had to leave at noon and promptly take a four-hour nap upon my arrival home to the mini manse.

Day of the Living Dead.

In between sleeping all day and night like a newborn baby, I was able to catch up on some news. I almost taped my eye lids open to read every single report of R. Kelly being indicted on 10 counts of aggravated sexual abuse. Looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong overdue. He’s been taped having sex with minors, reportedly keeps women hostage and if you haven’t seen the documentary series on Lifetime, Surviving R. Kelly, watch it. The revelations will make you queasy. He was acquitted in 2008 for child pornography charges but where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Suck it R. Kelly.

#muterkelly

In not so fabulous news, I read that outright racist, Steve King, who was yet again voted into Congress by Iowa (narrowly beating J.D. Scholten who actually campaigned and visited every.single.county in the district while King sat back and watched) plans on running in 2020. If you live in one of the 39 counties in the 4th District of Iowa (click here if you don’t know if you live there) and don’t go to the polls and kick this motherfucker out of office, then you’re doing something wrong. The fact that he unabashedly quotes and defends white nationalism should be enough but if you need more convincing, contact me.

When this sleeping disaster woke from her slumber Friday evening, I was greeted with a FaceTime from Scooby. What this technologically challenged lady didn’t know is that if you have the iPhone 10, you can make your head anything you want. And now this is a must have for me.

Unicorns are real.

Saturday would have been Aunt Crazy Pants’ birthday.

Sisters.

While ACP should be here, we know she was having gin rickies galore upstairs, so in her honor, Mama CBXB and I got together to celebrate. When she showed up at the mini manse, we had unknowingly dressed as twins in green and sparkle.

Matchy, matchy.

Green was ACP’s fave color and we showed up in Irish spirit. We went to the Cheesecake Factory where her favorite gin rickey is served, we found a parking spot, one bar table was open AND I kept my eyes open until bedtime. Think we might have had some help from above.

Gin Rickies for everyone.

Two other hooligans celebrating were my Iowa twins who are living it up in Mexico this week.

Off to the beach!

Bed bugs.

Beach beauties.

They have been so active, I’m exhausted just by looking at the pics sent of their overabundance of fun. On their second day – before noon – they’d been swimming, gone on a boat ride, zip lined and swam again. Meanwhile, I was very busy deciding to keep my celebration tree in full swing.

When you live in Tennessee, it’s no big deal if your Christmas tree is out all year. Or so I tell myself.

Rounding out the celebration festivities, who doesn’t love an Oscars party? The twins walked the red carpet in Mexico.

Award winning duo.

While I slid into my most comfortable stretch pants and did this…

Well, actually I did have on a floor length sequins jacket and rhinestone wine glass, so that counts as glam, right?

One of my long time buddies, Aha! came over and heard me say “shhhhhhhhhhh!” 4,902,653 times when a gown I had to have appeared on the red carpet. Which was every .00007 seconds.

Aha!

We paired our boxed wine with fancy cheese of course.

Snack City.

I loved this year’s show, which opened with Queen featuring Adam Lambert and had to rewind the performance of “Shallow” with Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga three times. I died. I cried. I’m still swooning over the fucking thing. Shortly after that part of the show, my cable went out. And that part wasn’t as pretty with me yelling into my phone for Instagram stories while I was missing out on Best Actor, Best Director and the other fucking big time categories you wait three hours to view. Oh, Comcast is getting a letter.

These two were not alarmed in the slightest by my raised voice.

Lucky for me the internet exists and Aha! was able to pull up the speeches I’d missed. Also lucky for me, I was gifted tickets to the Nashville Predators (hockey for you non sports folks) game last night. Dada CBXB sure hated it.

Armful.

We started the evening off at the very first honky tonk I ever took him to when he first visited Nashville.

Legends Corner.

We realized that when I am trying to take selfles of us, I lack the needed arm length when he is standing at his normal height (and not squatting to get a touchdown selfie during a Hawkeye game).

Selfie fail.

We got smart and asked another human to take our photo when we got into the arena. The seats were killer, the game was close and the Preds kicked ass by winning in a shoot out.

PREDS WIN!

And we all know how I ended the evening…

Sudsy soak.

Cheers to keeping our eyes open this week!

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?

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.

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?

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.

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. 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.

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).

CBXB gaywich.

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.

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).

I didn’t see any urine.

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.

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

I hid behind a horse head.

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

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.

Nice angle.

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

Seriously? You like this?

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).

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.

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