Weekend Winks – Ass Hats, Ass Slaps and Lazy Asses

Is the weekend ever here fast enough?

Not for this duo who couldn’t wait long enough for me to take a piss before expressing their delight in having their mother smother them for two whole days.

We spent Friday lounging around the mini while I guzzled wine like Kristen Wiig in an SNL skit.

My dream come true.

Sunny Saturdays in Nashville call for pool parties. Since I don’t do beer and sipping on Skinny Pirates all day can make for an early evening, I’ve discovered spiked seltzer water. It’s the shit – 4.5% alcohol, 90 calories per can and 0 sugars.

Truly. Madly. Deeply in love.

After an all day sunfest, our pool crew decided to hit up my fave watering hole, Dalts for the aforementioned Skinny Pirates and home cooked food.

Feed me.

Thirst quenching fun with Cat Boy, Pool Mom and Rasta.

You see, we chose Dalts for our after hours pool party because last weekend, we ran into a bit of trouble at another local bar. After several rounds of cocktails and bar snacks, I got up to sing one of my fave AC/DC songs with the band. Complete with a greasy bun, prescription sunglasses on at night (’cause I’m douchy like that – oh, and also sunglasses hide sins, requiring no makeup after a pool day) and a maxi dress.

After my non-Grammy winning performance, on the way back to our table, some guy at the bar smacked my ass so hard my bun fell out. Some guy who I hadn’t spoken to all night. Some guy who I hadn’t ever laid eyes on before. A stranger. Trying to get some semblance of dignity back after the unwanted, unmerited slap of a stranger, I made my way back to our table. Just in time to find Cat Boy in the dude’s face, defending my honor…and thankfully so. Who knows what I may have done once I garnered my wits?

Girls just having some fun.

We were immediately asked to leave the bar and I inquired whether or not both parties were being asked to leave. I was told yes and I must say that I understood why – alcohol combined with angry tempers don’t mix but not one person – not the ass hat who slapped me, not the bouncer, not the employee who asked me to leave a very busy bar acknowledged what had happened. And as we stood outside waiting on our Lyft, we witnessed the stranger who smacked me being served another round of drinks with his buddies.

Isn’t that nice?

Daily reminders compliments of Metal Marvels.

This kind of shit isn’t OK. It bothered me all week and so after a few days, I called the owner of the bar who went back, looked at the tape and called back to apologize. He also said that as an owner of this establishment of 13 years, he’d never had any issues brought to his attention like this and wondered out loud how many other times something of this nature happened. Which is so fucking true.

If you see something, say something.

Violence isn’t the answer but fuck. There is never an appropriate time to spank a grown woman – a stranger to you – like she just hit a home run in the 9th inning of the World Series. Hands off.

Luckily for me, these two were just happy to be scarfing down on celery and pizza and I got picture proof of it.

Are your diners this cute?

Princess B got a new leotard and hates it. Obvies.

Hot shit and she knows it.

You know who else is hot shit? Former Iowa Hawkeye, Karl Klug, who has played for the Tennessee Titans since 2011. As Dada CBXB says “Klug is what hard work and not great talent is all about.” Does he sound like a former football player and coach? It’s been beyond fun having a defensive end on our professional team to cheer on every Sunday (after our college football Saturday fun). Klug signed autographs after practice last weekend and my friend’s boys were lucky enough to get a little pep talk, as well as an autograph.

Football season can’t get here fast enough!

You know what else can’t get here fast enough? Tourists leaving Nashville. Us locals can’t even go downtown anymore without fighting asses to elbows…I mean, I’m sure Robert’s Western World is wondering where in the hell the folks who come and sit in he front row for 10 hours have been. Although the Music City has grown so much in the past five years, we may have to get there at 10am just to see our fave band come on at 10pm.

Winding down the weekend, there was a packed couch.

The gray duo on one side of the couch.

Balanced by the human sized Rocky on the other.

Somehow, some way we made it to our usual wind down spots, naturally.

All’s well that ends well.

Here’s hoping you have an ass slappin’ fabulous week – for all of the right reasons.

CBXB

 

 

 

Weekend Winks – Surprise Party Style

Jell-O shots, honky tonkin’ and birthday celebrations make for one fabulous Nashville weekend.

Capturing all of the honky tonk best.

Capturing all of the honky tonk best.

My mama’s birthday was this past weekend and my Aunt Crazy Pants was top secretly flying in from Iowa as a surprise. Being that it was late in the evening on Thursday night and the fact that her flights were all on time, I didn’t think twice about heading to the airport in the classiest threads in my closet.

My evening finest.

My evening finest.

When luggage didn’t make the flight, I realized I would have to grace the airport with an appearance and I got to proudly march through baggage claim in my most subtle t-shirt and see through stretch pants.

Luggage

Aunt Crazy Pants was happy to see me. The airport staff, not so much.

On Friday Ted anxiously helped with the decorating as he’s an old party pro, being that I’m his mama. New Cat was carefully taking pointers while being sure to rest his bowling ball sized belly near the front window, unable to lift a paw to help.

Decorating helpers

Party on, Ted.

Done and done!

Done and done!

Once the party prep was complete, there was only one thing left to do – get the celebration started properly.

Party On!

It’s five o’clock somewhere…just not in Nashville.

After a few happy shots, we needed to hide Aunt Crazy Pants quietly.

Quiet in the mini manse!

Silence in the mini manse!

So we put her on a stool in the corner of my bathroom. I’m nothing if not a gracious host.

HIde out.

Hide out.

Turns out Mama CBXB had zero clue any shenanigans were in the making and the surprise went off without a hitch.

Surprise!

Gotcha!

Our fabulous foursome of ladies was complete with the entrance of L-Dawg and we started to party like classy dames….which didn’t last long.

Fun Crew

Fun crew.

The inner rock stars came out about 19 minutes into the evening….

Guitar hero.

Guitar hero.

Aunt Crazy Pants decided to showcase her abilities to take Jell-O shots off of her own chest…

Jell-O shots with no hands.

No handed Jell-O bandit.

And Camo had to be called later in the night, as my aunt decided to try and single-handedly destroy my closet after copious amounts of spiked gelatin.

Camo made an appearance to save my closet's life.

Camo made an appearance to save my closet’s life.

All in all a fun way to spend a Friday night.

Cheers to an evening fulfilled!

Cheers to an evening fulfilled!

Saturday greeted us with bottomless mimosas and some girl talk for breakfast.

Table talk.

Table talk with Ted.

After spending the entire day in our pajamas, it was time to get gussied up and head downtown to honky tonk.

Gussied in our giddy ups.

Adult women in matching giddy ups are beyond fabulous, right? RIGHT?

My 6’4″ dad drives a vehicle the size of a clown car but thankfully all of our curvaceousness fit into the backseat with no problems.

Fred Flintstone mobile.

Fred Flintstone’s car is bigger. Just sayin’.

As soon as we hit Roberts Western World, it was time for jazz hands to come out and play.

Jazz handing it like it's my job.

We’re heeeeeeere! You know, the quiet ones in the corner booth.

I worked off all of my alcohol intake by sweating it out on the dance floor like it was my job with my new friend Gramps.

My new fave Grandpa.

Dancing with the Stars FAIL.

Aunt Crazy Pants had a much better time being twirled around by her own personal Fred Astaire.

Cray Pants

Giving me and Gramps a run for our dancing money.

There’s nothing less annoying than the dancing crew who takes endless selfies of themselves, in hopes one photo will capture all of the fun taking place.

Holla!

We look nuts and my mom is headless but we’re living it up.

Sunday morning came all too soon and my poor pussies were pooped from all of the weekend late night festivities.

Party pooped

Looking just how I felt…from all of the dancing.

Prince and the pillow.

His Royal Highness with my pillow, refusing to move for placement of my head.

And while we cat napped the rest of the weekend away, the three days of celebrating were well worth the headache(s), liver dehydration and caloric overload.

Fun festive

Two waters, please.

Here’s hoping your week is off to a fabulous start!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – Puss ‘n’ Boots

Nashville shenanigans this past weekend included patio party fun, pool time and a little boot scootin’ boogie downtown.

Weekend!

It’s the weekend, let’s drink!

Setting the festive mood in celebration of the much anticipated weekend, the patio party lights came on as soon as I walked through my mini manse door Friday evening.

Party time!

Lights, cocktails, action!

But even with the combination of music, spirits and conversation, there was nothing that could keep Teddy’s head up.

Weekend!

Pooped pussy.

I took Mr. Bear’s cue for a low-key evening and rested up because there was some honky tonkin’ to do on Saturday.

Neon

Bright lights in Music City.

Robert’s Western World awaited our rowdy bunch as we tried to strong-arm our way to the front row to see my fave band on Lower Broad – The Don Kelly Band (seriously the best band gaining all kinds of momentum with their 19-year-old guitar player who kicks all kinds of ass. Yes, I want to be his cougar. Meow).

The Don Kelly Band

My cougar cub Daniel Donato, Don Kelly and Joe Fick.

In our entourage, my mom and I had top tiered choices of companions.

Not one...

Not one…

Not two...

Not two…

Date three..

But three hot dates.

Turns out it was a good thing all of my dates already know and love me, because I morphed into a truck driver when it came time to eat a burger basket.

Stuff

Face stuffing at its finest.

Rings off.

Serious burger eating business with all jewelry off.

Eating contest. I won.

Eating off. I won.

While I was busy perusing the bottom of everyone’s baskets for morsels of leftover french fries, my dad acted like he was with the Grand Poobah of Robert’s Western World sitting front and center, as if the band was performing for a party of one.

Him.

Two beers, please. Make them PBRs.

Two beers, please. Make them PBRs and if you don’t have that, Natty Light.

Being that it’s CMA Festival time (formerly known as Fan Fair) the downtown scene was packed with folks arriving for the events starting over the weekend. One of the fans in town for festivities was a sweet red head who told me that she wanted to emulate me – especially my hair.

I want to emulate you. I want your rack.

I’ll trade my hair for her rack.

Another lively duo we ran into were from somewhere overseas with accents so thick I could only understand that they were drunk.

Australian? Scottish? English? Talk Accent to Me.

Australian? Scottish? English? Talk accent to me.

The self-appointed Mayor of Robert’s got crafty with his photo taking skills, using the reverse camera feature to snap pics of himself and my mom.

Only problem was he left out Mom.

Selfie minus mom.

The one and a half shot.

Remember Daniel, the swashbuckling young guitar virtuoso? Well, after The Don Kelly Band’s set, he came over and asked if I was on Instagram (@cowboysandcrossbones) because I look familiar.

*BE STILL MY BEATING HEART*

I told him I do stalk follow him on Instagram and naturally had to capture the moment of recognition with a photo.

Who me?

The cougar and the cub.

On our way to the car, we couldn’t help but notice all of the fashionistas hitting the streets for CMA Week.

Lovely fashion kicking off CMA Week.

Capri jeans with cowboy boots? Yeehaw.

I got a little chummy with Elvis and almost missed my ride home.

Hunka Hunka...

Hunka…Hunka…

Upon our arrival back at my mini manse, my dad decided it would be a good idea to take wapatoolie shots.

What’s in a wapatoolie shot you ask? Anything you damn well please mixed altogether for the drinking pleasure of an unassuming shot taker.

Wapatoolie time!

My Wapatoolie ingredients!

Concocting....

A witch with her brew…

All cheers

…serving her finest to an unsuspecting crew…

Rest of the night blurry.

…and the rest of their night was blurry.

Smart girls like me stick to their Skinny Pirates so we can be unhungover and lay by the pool to waste Sunday away.

Got it done at the pool.

Got it done at the pool.

The love affair of Ted and New Cat continues – they’ve even taken their licking sessions to the front window for all of the neighbor’s viewing pleasure.

Head lock lovers.

Head lock lovers.

Tedstar was over me when I wouldn’t let him sit out on the porch by himself.

Pissed pussy

No porch for Teddy, no cute photo posing for me.

The felines must be monitored while lounging on the mini manse outdoor wing, as in this lovely plant…

Plant

One of my green thumbs works!

…are five eggs waiting to bust open with chicks.

Five birdies

Party of five.

All of the meows and incessant clawing at the porch door drove me to drink the last little bit of Sunday away.

Drives me to drink.

Slurpy Sunday.

And this weekend was good to the last drop.

Cheers!

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!

Weekend Winks – Cougar Style

A little honky tonkin’, hockey and hootenanny in Nashville this weekend….

After a few happy hour Skinny Pirates, I headed to the hockey game – and you know that meant a little bathroom bartending…

Don't tell I'm up to no good.

Thank God alcohol kills germs, right? Right?!

My Nashville Predators beat the Edmonton Oilers 6-0. Yeehaw!

blah

Welcome to Smashville!

Saturday greeted me with a package from my blogging gal pal, Nicola from Nail Art For Funn.  She sent so many goodies from Korea, I can hardly wait to try all of the fun on my weekly Sunday night nail nights!

While out and about with visiting family, I came across an ancient artifact – my uncle’s phone.

Ancient history

Yes, it still works.

Saturday evening led to family fun night at my favorite Nashville honky tonk, Robert’s Western World.  I re-created my Hardee’s modeling bit (click here to read about my first time) while eating the oh-so-delicious burger…

Hardee's burger model, take 2.

Hardee’s burger model, take 2.

I ran into (OK, minorly stalked if I’m being honest here) the fastest playing fiddler in all of Tennessee, Joshua Hedley.

My favorite fiddle player

Cowboy Josh and a crazy fan.

And what to my wondering ears did appear but a 17-year-old guitar player full of good cheer.

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This kid rocks.

While I don’t typically pine for guys younger than yours truly, I couldn’t help but swoon over this kick ass pickin’ kid, promptly turning into a cougar.

blah

On the prowl – look out!

All of the Saturday night shenanigans led to a Sunday morning full of sunglasses and snuggling.

blah

Yes. I needed the shades that badly.

Upon recovery, I headed back downtown with my family to see downtown Nashville in the daylight, where I set my sights on the most wonderful thing imaginable…a bar on wheels.  All you have to do is pedal while drinking to cruise the streets (I of course would need to sit on someone’s lap while they pedaled for me – I’m a high heel (and obviously high maintenance) wearin’ boozer).

Drink and pedal.

Drinking + pedaling = no cocktail calories counted.

A little BBQ action at Rippy’s for my endlessly starving 14-year-old cousin, C-dawg. Seriously, this kid talks about food as much as I rant and rave about Ted.

blah

Feed me….again!

And remember me as a spitting image of Elvis?  I so badly wanted to keep the costume in order to continually prance around as The King but the upkeep of a white jumpsuit would be a nightmare.

As Elvis

Hunka hunka burnin’ …. love?

But I found the next best thing at a shop downtown –

blah

PJs perfect for prancing around!

Guess what you’ll be seeing on this blog in the near future?

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks

A fun Friday night out to see the Nashville Predators take on the Vancouver Canuks.

First mate and fang fingers

First Mate and I hanging at the arena bar (I mean, where else would we meet?)!

To keep the cost of drinks down (arena prices are $7 for a single, $14 for a double and you all know what I’d order), I stash my own flask and become a very germaphobe bar tender in a bathroom stall.

Don't tell I'm up to no good.

Up to no good.

The toilet paper dispenser acts as my bar, I stuff the lid in my mouth (to keep germs at bay) and pour out half of the Sprite (it was a vodka night) in the toilet (being sure to keep the cup three feet above the seat).

Classy bathroom bar.

Classy bathroom bar with an even classier bar tender.

I have a thing for mascots. I mean a crazy lady thing (which won’t come as a surprise when I tell you that the Preds mascot is a giant cat).  Here’s my boyfriend, Gnash making his appearance, repelling down from the ceiling.

My boyfriend, Gnash

He’s such a stud.

With great seats and a vodka filled cup, fun times were had although the Preds lost 1-0.

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Even Carrie Underwood’s pretty husband (yes, he’s pretty, not handsome) couldn’t help the team score.

Even Carrie Underwood's pretty hubs couldn't help.

But Mike Fisher was fun to oogle over anyhow.

Being the fashion diva I think I am, what about this ensemble…backpack, knee-length (which look good on…who?) Mom shorts and sneakers with no socks?

Enough to drive me to drink! So I did.

Upon leaving the game and heading toward the honky tonks, this gentleman kindly reminded the crowd that if you don’t live a clean life, you’ll go to hell.

In case you were wondering

In case you were wondering…

Where do you think I’ll go?

Heaven or Hell?

Heaven or Hell?

Once again at Robert’s Western World (for the second time in two days…think the band members are pretty sure I’m stalking them), The Don Kelley Band   played my favorite dancing song – only this time I didn’t have to dance alone (read all about it here).

This time around, my dancing skills scored me a crisp $100 bill.

Tip money!

OK, really someone’s friend wanted to buy us a round but gave me the dough, so I pretended it was a tip. (A girl can dream about her dancing skills!)

The overload of cocktail money caused me to pull double duty on the drinks.

Art of double fisting. Classy!

Art of the double fist.

Due to the amounts of liquor consumed, Friday was a late night and Teddy was a little bitch on Saturday because I’d interrupted his beauty sleep at 2am.

Not a happy camper.

Not a happy camper.

As I was gearing up for my Saturday evening events, I chose some new kicks to debut.  Only thing is they creaked with every single step I took.

WD40 please

Is there a WD-40 for boots?

A quick happy hour with gal pals to commence my Saturday festivities.

Friends and cocktails good way to begin Saturday evening

Another round please!

Seeing my very favorite bar tender – who pours Skinny Pirates perfectly (he’s actually the one who nailed the concoction all those years ago at Dalts. Sigh).

Favorite bartender

Think he makes house calls?

Making the switch from my Captain to red wine, as I celebrated a birthday at a swanky little Nashville Italian joint.

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When in Rome….

On Sunday, I excitedly anticipated the Academy Awards while Teddy was still in recovery from my late weekend nights.

Image

My Oscar evening included champagne and pretty pink (what else would you expect?) frosted cupcakes.

Fancy cupcake for the fancy evening.

Fancy cupcake for the fancy evening.

Teddy got a second wind and insisted on sitting in the front row for the actual awards broadcast.

my oscar view

My Oscar view.

And I’m happily starting Monday off in this fabulous, bedazzled skull studded tank my gal Tina gifted me this weekend (think she knows me very well?).

Stargin Monday off bedazzled in my new threads from my girlie, Tina.

Kickin’ ass and takin’ names today!

Here’s hoping you do the same.

CBXB

CBXB!

The Accidental Drunk

You know how you intend to have one after work cocktail and then all hell breaks loose? Yeah, me too.

Last night I met up with pals I haven’t seen in a long time … and one drink turned into three, which led to bourbon and late night honky tonkin’, resulting in a groggy Thursday morning.

It all started at a fancy restaurant where I decided to go out on a limb and deviate from my typical Skinny Pirate, vodka and wine.  I chose the “Keith It Simple” cocktail which included Corsair Absinthe, Old Forrester 100 Proof, house infused with vanilla bean, fresh lemon…there was nothing simple about this concoction.

the instigator

Big Mistake.

My choice in liquor for the evening led to an impromptu photo shoot outside the bathroom.

leading to the mauling of a pin up

Mauling of a pin-up.

And because I typically stick to dive bars, I was ultra impressed with the actual bathroom and started snapping photos in front of other customers (class act, right here).

Casablanca on the wall

Movies on the wall? I want to move in!

How does this work?

Blonde moment 341…how will this flat sink not get water all over my dry jeans?

After making an ass out of myself (and deciding the joint was too pricy for our food tastes), we decided to head to my favorite honky-tonk – Robert’s Western World.

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Why would you pay $40 for an elegant steak when you can get a complete meal at Robert’s for $5!?

A fun tidbit from a bumper sticker – somehow Nashvillians can make bashful and Nashville rhyme.

Somehow Nashvillians can make Bashful and Nashville rhyme...

Making Nashville sound like it’s spelled Nashful. Now that’s talent!

Our versions of ‘gourmet’… late night burgers and fried bologna sandwiches, accompanied by the always kick ass Don Kelley Band (who granted my request and played one of my all time favorite songs, which of course required me to get up and dance…alone on the dance floor…constantly finding ways to make an ass of myself).

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Mouth party!

After my personal Dancing With the Stars premiere, a dude at the table next to me watched me eat my cheese burger like a creeper – probably because I was shoveling the burger into my mouth like this –

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Can’t I eat any faster?

But then he paid me with what I thought was the best compliment ever – “you eating that there burger reminds me of the models on the Hardee’s or Carl’s Jr. commercials.” Who me? A MODEL!!

And then realizing I looked like an eating train wreck, he must have meant I look like the male burger models with mayo running down their chinny chin chins. Just trying to keep it classy, folks!

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Burger modeling in my future? Yes please!

All of these shenanigans had me reaching for my jar of much-needed Vegemite (the Australian hangover cure) this morning. And when I wondered aloud if readers were going to start trying to “sponsor” me due the constant advertising of my bad habits, a friend (a true one) said, “Alcoholics go to meetings. Drunks go to parties.”

Crisis averted.

CBXB

CBXB!