Weekend Winks – Legally Blonde, Margaritas and Partying On

This was one of the best weekends I’ve had in a long, long while. And everything started off on Friday – which as of now, will go down in my world as the most outstanding, fabulous fucking last day of the work week in history.

It all started when I saw on the news that over 250,000 peeps across the pond were protesting the person with the highest position in this country.

I kinda wanted to be a Brit there for a second on Friday.

My fave thing was the spin POTUS put on it…”Many, many protests in my favor.”

Uh huh.

Then I realized via social media that it was just 50 days until the Iowa Hawkeyes first kick-off of the season.

Bring on the swarm!

This was all before 8am. So I was already practically skipping around the office.

THEN SOMETHING ELSE FABULOUS HAPPENED.

You know, I lost my baby girl Precious three weeks ago.

Partner in crime, upstairs now doing her time.

Well, Mama CBXB is in Iowa watching the twins.

Camp Gigi

While Mama was perusing Instagram, Princess B looked over her shoulder and said, “Aunt Juju got a new puppy?”

Wait for it…

I wonder how she got the impression?

Oh hi. It’s just me. Aunt Juju Spoon.

Regardless, if I could still do a cartwheel, I would have been doing them in my stilettos.

More fun after work took place at Avo, where they make avocado margaritas that are beyond.

When I posted my pic on Instagram, Avo reposted on theirs. Pretty sure this means I’m now considered an influencer, right?

Right?

And ending the FriYAY off right, I’ve started a side hustle, Animal Queendom, pet sitting pooches and pussies. So I made a stop at a clients house for a cuddle.

Side hustle doesn’t suck.

Saturday was a sun’s out, bun’s out pool party kinda day.

Three pool stooges.

Prince B and Princess B were very busy catching lightning bugs while I was playing Shamu in the blue water.

Bug catcher shenanigans in very professional attire.

I put on very unprofessional attire to attend a birthday soirée for my Cycling Queen.

Celebrating the birthday gal.

Sunday as I was scrolling through social media, my Facebook memories popped up. While I have a love/hate relationship with them, this one was a photo of Aunt Crazy Pants from a wild night at Robert’s Western World six years ago.

“Take my picture! Put it on Facebook.” Direct quote from ACP.

Funny enough, it was also National Ice Cream Day yesterday too – her favorite fucking indulgence.

Coincidence? I think not.

Rainy Sundays are the best for being lazy as fuck. So, I wallowed in bed, reading a new book finding enough energy to move my ass to the bath.

Who’s the fave gonna be?

I have a new cable system that lets you talk into your remote (which has been around quite a few years but I am slow to change because I hate it BUT this has been a TV watching game changer). With this system, it also suggests new shows I may like because of my previously watched history.

I got sucked into binging a show called The Affair on Showtime.

WHERE HAS BINGING BEEN ALL MY LIFE?

And then it became a family watching affair. I could not stop.

Neither could Fabio.

Neither could Rocky.

Princess Elsa Pants was only present for the chin rubs.

Ruby Sue was the most committed.

I finally had to make Sleepytime tea because even my sleeping pill wasn’t making me want to tear my eyes away from the screen.

It worked.

I found myself waking up at the time I’m due to work this morning but still beat my boss in…although my so-greasy-it-might-have-bugs-in-it hair that I was supposed to wash is in a bun (thank gawd for long hair). As I was scrambling around the mini manse to get my ass to work in 20 minutes, these three were beyond concerned.

Go earn us food money.

Here’s hoping your Monday is as chill as my pussies.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – Bitch Since Birth

Oh, the joys of having a birthday fall on a weekend.

Not hating my day of birth.

I got to do a whole lot of nothing (aka snuggling with pussies on dreary, rainy Friday night and Saturday), squeezed in some gal time with an at-home impromptu cocktail party (where a handle of Captain was drained by Skinny Pirate consumption) and the sprinkles on top of the weekend were the bottomless mimosas I was treated to on Sunday.

Skinny Pirate #1.

After some basketball watching, Skinny Pirates and pie hole stuffing on Friday night, I was beyond elated when I woke up Saturday, realizing I slept 10 consecutive hours. Ten hours people! While this may seem like an overindulgent feat, I haven’t slept more than four hours at a time since Rapegate happened in early 2016. The lack of consistent sleep has only added negatively to my already challenging, stereotypical “blondeness”.

Feeling and looking like a million dollars, I hustled to the fridge and busted out the birthday cake Sister CBXB made while she was here. Then I promptly returned to bed to consume.

Because why the fuck not?!

Theses two demanded a lick.

I got sucked into the footage from the March For Our Lives coverage and holy shit. These fucking kids…I can’t even. My heart was aching while also bursting with pride at the firsthand accounts of honesty regarding an epidemic that knows no class, demographic, race or political affiliation. Gun reform isn’t a republican or democrat problem. It’s an American problem. It’s an issue that these kids who were born after 9/11 and Columbine have faced their entire lives – at schools, churches, movie theaters, concerts and many others face in urban communities daily. How fucked up is that?

I am hopeful that the rally cries this generation is making turns into meaningful legislation with compassion to act because thoughts and prayers aren’t, haven’t and don’t work as we have all witnessed. Realizing it’s encroaching on Second Amendment rights, how does a government limit rights stated in the Constitution and yet, the most basic human right is life itself? Is there truly a reason to have weapons of war in the hands of civilians? The government tells me to wear my seat belt and abide by speed limits (which I mostly do). I must take my fucking shoes off at the airport and walk on ever germy floors because of one shoe bombing incident.

This 11 year old girl spoke more eloquently than most adults I know.

My favorite quote from a Parkland survivor, “We cannot keep America great if we can’t keep America safe.” I love that these kids are fearless in their relentlessness to call bullshit. BRAVO. I stand with you.

Fucking truth.

I was happy to see that even in my home state of Iowa, they were marching even though it was dumping snow on them.

Speaking of Iowa, you know who was cooped up inside after ten inches of snowfall? My twins, who were going to decorate Easter eggs but ended up eating them instead.

Rainy Saturday night rolled around and my gal pal Rasta came over and delivered a very spot on gift.

We can’t wait to wear them to the pool this summer.

Sunday, I lolligagged in the bed just long enough before slipping into my bday giddy up.

I opened up gifts from bed, too….because why not?!

As for my giddy up, it was nothing but class, as always.

BITCH SINCE BIRTH

And, what outfit of mine would be complete without a pair of whore in church heels?

Dada CBXB was one lucky dude, accompanied by five gorgeous gals to brunch.

Practicing our drink counting in prep for football season.

We enjoyed bottomless mimosas, food and for me….

Mimosas.

Presents I obviously hated.

And more mimosas.

I was spoiled beyond but there are no complaints from this chick who got to laugh her ass off with some of the best folks in the world.

Bird Lady and Rasta took me to my fave honky tonk, Robert’s Western World to cap off my day.

Birthday Bliss!

I don’t think we made a scene at all.

Monday morning came waaaaaay too quickly, but it was well worth it.

Cat ass. My morning wake up call.

I’m so lucky to have you guys in my life. Thanks for knowing how to make a lady feel like a queen with all the kind well wishes, messages, cards and calls.

Until next year!

Love ya, mean it.

CBXB

Weekend Winks – Gizzards, Griswolds and Gaming

Over the river and through the woods to the mini manse they came…

So, I haven’t ever cooked a turkey (or mowed a lawn, washed dishes without rubber gloves, changed a dirty diaper… because you know, my nails are jewels, not tools) but my friend Rasta decided to bake a bird for the Thanksgiving holiday, as she wasn’t traveling back to New York. I had family from Iowa coming into Nashville, she was kind enough to invite us over and it was a Griswolds meets the Iowa Hillbillies meets City Chic. In other words, the best kind of holiday mash-up.

I’ll let you guess which is which.

I went to help prep the evening before and basically sat on my ample derriere washing the evening away with wine, BUT I did help with snapping green beans, K?

Being a sous chef is hard work.

Upon my return to the mini manse, I called Mama CBXB no less than 31 times in 25 minutes because I was attempting my first casserole with a whopping six ingredients.

What’s a ¼ lb. of cheese?

Do you drain the corn or leave the juice in it?

What’s a ¼ lb. of butter look like?

And voila!

Corn and noodle casserole was a hit.

OK, I may have eaten half of it but still, a success.

Rasta baked her tail off, as I supplied a cases of much-needed vino.

My contributions.

Rasta stirring up a storm in her kitchen.

Upon completion of the bird baking, no one in the place had ever before carved a turkey.

How many peeps does it take to carve a turkey?

The bird got divvied, the casserole was a hit and Precious the chug may have had the tryptophan kick in earlier than the rest of us.

Tired turkey.

Friday, after shaking off our turkey comas, we headed down to Bailey’s Irish Pub to join another 125 Hawkeye fans to cheer on our fave team for the last game of the year.

Hey-oh! Hawkeye time!

The outcome of the game looked rather bleak at halftime with the score being tied at 14-14 (and as the Hawks basically rolled over and died their last two games, it was anyone’s guess as to who would win). But, in the third and fourth quarters, Iowa scored an unanswered 42 points, leaving us with a winning 56-14 score.

Somewhere between shots one and four…

… and somewhere between shots five and eight.

Of course each and every time the Hawks scored, I had to Facetime Dada CBXB who was up in Iowa visiting the twins.

I can’t hear you but drink!

What do you do after a victorious beat down? Celebrate, naturally. We headed to Robert’s Western World for some of the best old school honky tonkin’ around.

Showing G’Lee a fun old-fashioned country time.

Enjoying the holiday leftovers in Iowa, my BIL was showing off his doughing skills, making turkey and gravy pizza.

Dough master.

No one was upset about the use of leftovers.

Of course, the second the clock struck 12:01 am the day after Thanksgiving, the twins were ready for Christmas. And the decorating commenced.

Tree trimming.

Old school advent calendar.

While the mini manse residents are still recuperating from the shenanigans – surely, it’s just a turkey hangover.

Snuggle train still ongoing.

A day of Hallmark holiday movies and moving from one side of the couch to the other worked wonders for us.

Working our wind down with wine. Duh.

Here’s hoping your well on your way out of a gravy coma.

CBXB

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!