How to Get a Vegas Food Coma

My liver is doing much better after my Vegas trip, thank you very much. But my body is still experiencing a sugar, carbohydrate, grease and any kind of food additive you can think of detox.

After endless liquids entered my bod (and no, that’s not water) during my four day Vegas stay, it was only natural to crave the unhealthiest of foods, right?

Helping hand

Vodka at the pool = need for junk food.

So what’s a gal to do but stuff her face after sipping (guzzling, rather) cocktails by the pool all day on an empty stomach?

You must stuff your face, of course.

Nothing's sexier than a wide mouthed woman in sequins.

Nothing’s sexier than a sequined wearing, wide mouthed woman with a cheeseburger hanging out of her mouth. Am I right?!

Want some?


And what washes down a burger better than paella? Well, nothing.


First time trying paella at the Julian Serrano restaurant in the Aria casino. Heaven.

After all of that booze and stomach stuffing, there’s nothing more fun than trying to squeeze into a Vegas evening outfit.


I wish I may I wish I might squeeze it in and suck it tight.

Once the evening in your confined attire is complete, follow with a little midnight snack.

Supper of champions

Snack attack!

Because two people really need 14 pancakes, 14 slices of bacon, whipped cream, a tower of onions rings and buffalo wings (for dessert).

Bound and determined

I can’t wait to put my bathing suit on tomorrow.

I'll try this...

Why does food taste better at 1am?


I only ate half since I’m obviously watching my figure.

Because after all that, nothing is more fun the next day than feeling like a beached whale while laying here…


Starting all over again.

Anybody have any good cleanses I could start?

Of course, I can’t begin until after this weekend’s tailgate…



Whoever Smelt It Dealt It

Duh. Read my posts much? If I didn’t mention this, one of you readers might have decided to call the loony bin and reserve a spot for me. A long sniff of my beloved Captain Morgan can relax me almost as much as taking a swig (I’m lying but didn’t want to sound like an alcoholic).  Captain reminds me of the fun Fourth of Julys in the Ozarks with my cousins, the smell puts me at my local watering hole Dalts on a fun Friday night and accompanies the ups and downs in my life with ease. I love this liquor.

Skinny Pirates for me, wine for my first mate on Friday nights.

My Cat, Ted. Teddy Bear. Mr. Bear. Teddy Ruxpin. Teddy Kruger. Teddy Back Bear. TB. Yogi Bear-ah.

Shut the F up at whatever you’re muttering to yourself about me right now. I’m not talking about the smell of his cat pan. Or the terrible duck food breath he blows in my face as he yawns. But there is a specific scent that he emits (like a secret potion that makes me love him even though he does stuff like chew on my purse handles, barf on my rugs, use my toothbrush (click here to read all about it) and meows his brains out daily like a roaring lion at 3:57am) when I catch a puff of his aroma and my heart swells with a little more love for my fur baby.


Duck food breath be damned!

Gasoline. Fuel. Petroleum.

Oh a good whiff of gasoline… the vapors creep into my nose and make my brain happy for an ecstatic three seconds. Typically (and luckily for my cerebrum) I only fill my gas tank up every two weeks (I work close to home, thankfully) so my brain function shouldn’t be too altered by my bi-monthly gas inhaling.

Fueling up on fuel.

Fueling up on fuel.

Soil. Real black dirt. Not clay.

There is something about the smell of Iowa dirt (not the clay dirt that resides in Tennessee) that takes me back to riding the combine with my Grandpa. Or planting a garden with my dad as a kid. Or concocting mud pies in Grandma’s backyard.

Could this look anymore white trash with my dad in his wife beater?

Could this look anymore white trash with my dad in his wife beater? And I’m pretty sure he’s pointing to where I should dig. How sweet.

ADM Factory. Rotten food. Stank ass.

Eeew gross you think. And I’m right there with you. BUT inhaling this disgustingness means that I’ve made it to the nook of Iowa where my sister, bro-in-law and their little lovies reside. Maybe I should associate a different smell with them…

Smell spoiled food? We're almost there!

Smell spoiled food? Auntie CBXB is almost there and can’t wait to get her paws on you!

The Iowa State Fair….specifically greasy food aroma.

There’s almost nothing I adore more than going to the Iowa State Fair. Fried butter on a stick, pickles, giant tenderloins, donuts, cheese curds, funnel cakes, corn dogs, Snickers….just thinking about the smell of fair food made me gain 10 lbs in the last five minutes.

In fried cheese heaven at the Iowa State Fair.

In fried cheese heaven at the Iowa State Fair.

What makes your nose happy? Weird scents tag, you’re it.


How to Pop Someone’s Strawberry Cherry

It’s no secret that I love cocktails (if you regularly read this blog you probably just thought ‘no shit’ – if you’re new (welcome!), I have rum running through my veins. Yes, I’m a walking miracle).

Once in a while I cheat (rarely) on the ever reliable Captain with a strawberry martini from The Cheesecake Factory (you just go there for the cheesecake? Silly you!). Before you turn your nose up thinking I drink like a sorority sister, please know that this oh so delicious cocktail contains straight vodka, fresh strawberry juice (they muddle the berries when ordered – so I’m the bartender’s worst nightmare because you know I don’t just have one) and a squeeze of lemon.  So basically it’s a glass of vodka (which is why I love it so).

I was out for PBDs (pre-birthday drinks – like I’ve said before, I celebrate ALL month) with my gal pal G when she confessed she’d never had the famous (in my world) ‘tini. The horror! What kind of friend am I to let this fabulous girl go so long without this heavenly cocktail?  We immediately ordered a round.


Prepping for the de-virginization.

And while we were only going to have one, once this concoction hits your lips it’s over.


Two just won’t do.

So we had another….


Yep, we asked the waitress to snap another pic. No shame.

And then another, turning our quick cocktail into a bottomless happy hour.


A virgin no more.

Surprisingly we accidentally got tipsy (which I do all the time – read more about that here)…but a little liquor never hurt for one’s first time, right?



Love at First Bite

Sis made the mistake of smelling

Yeah, it’s that good.

My Australian blogging buddy, Baz over at The Landy has often posted about his love for Vegemite (which apparently is a national treasure Down Under) which piqued my curiosity as I’d never heard of the product. Because Baz and his family rock, they sent me a package of Vegemite and Bundaberg rum (think Baz knows me well or what? I could NOT wait to tear into the rum which was quite delicious, giving my Captain a run for its money).


Welcome to America!

Baz cautioned that you put a very thin layer of Vegemite on a piece of toast or cracker – and also mentioned that this Australian potion was a fantastic hangover cure (again, knows me well!).


The prep.

I recruited my extremely hesitant (we’re Midwestern and into bland food!) sister into being a taste tester alongside moi (she made the mistake of smelling the Vegemite first, therefore causing her to drag her feet all the more).


If you want to up the ante, link arms to make shoveling food into your mouth more difficult.


I jumped right in with a bite –  Sis tried a nibble.

And while I savored the taste, she was underwhelmed with the salty concoction.


So you love it?

I meant to give Vegemite two thumbs up but only mustered a pointer finger (blonde moment), while trying to explain why I truly liked the Australian delicacy.

love at first bite

Finger up!


American sisters, split decision on Australia’s tasty spread.

I’ve been living on my Vegemite every Saturday and Sunday morning since … it is quite the cure!



Trashtacular Treasures

When living on a tight budget, it can be hard to spread the kind of gift lovin’ you wish…like on birthdays.

Often I get creative (in my mind) and hope my thoughtfulness doesn’t come across as a cheap, tacky “why in the F did you give this to me” gift.

I designed the cake below for a former boss and fabulous friend who always used to demand (I kid! I kid! But she doesn’t read this, so I can say what I want) Diet Cokes 14 times per day. Hence the choice of beverage here (of course, if I made one for myself, it would have bottles of wine on the bottom, Captain Morgan bottles in the middle, topped off with vodka – but we’re not talking about me, so I digress).


Perfect treat for a Diet Coke lover?

Here are the ‘ingredients’ for this cake…

1) Start with a 12 pack of the recipient’s favorite beverage (or beer/liquor if money is no object).

2) A fake silver platter (it really fancies up the look overall, yes?).

Can be found at a flea market or the Dollar Tree. Really fancies it up.

You can find this at a flea market or the Dollar Tree. And doubles as a pretty clear mirror.

3) Packing tape, duct tape and your choice of ribbon. (You could skip the duct tape but it really takes cake decorating to a whole new level).

here I go again with my duct tape...

To read about my obsession with duct tape, click here and here.

Start by arranging cans on the platter, secure with packing tape.


Continue tiering to desired height, making sure packing tape is all over the place (making it feel more like a gift, for sure).

Diet Coke

This cake was going to a gal who loves black and white, hence the zebra print duct tape icing.


The $6 trashtacular tiered treat.

This was a perfect way for me to bake. No dirty dishes. No recipe ingredients or steps I couldn’t decipher. And all done in about 20 minutes.

If cake baking isn’t for you, become a jewelry designer (and if you’re lucky, an overnight sensation).


One of a kind piece.

Go to your local hardware store and purchase a plant chain (for around $2) and two plastic numbers (intended for the side of a house).  Small string, fishing line or wire will work to attach the number to the chain.

This priceless piece will cost you about $8 to concoct.

And voila! You’ll have one bewildered, amused (?) and possibly annoyed recipient!


Wearin’ 50 well!

And that’s how you, too, can give a tad on the trashy side gift and still buy groceries for the week (or in my case Teddy’s prescription cat food).

Happy Birthday!