The Dumb to My Dumber

Folks often tell me that I act like my aunt Crazy Pants. We could be known as Thelma and Louise (but we’re not as cool and fabulous – we wouldn’t drive off a cliff on purpose, we’d do it because we were lost and missed a turn) although we more often times resemble Lucy and Ethel (on our best days) but in reality we can most identify with Dumb and Dumber.


Crazy times two.

Of all of the things we have in common, we share a love of Jell-O shots which are a staple at every family gathering (classy, I know) and party I throw.

Jello Love

Jell-O shots = Love

I mean we really love the spiked gelatin.

oving Jell-O maybe a little too much.

Like really, really, really love.

Down the hatch. How many?

Especially with whipped cream.

Our consumption of Jell-O shots makes us both more limber (until we wake up the next morning and can’t move).

Jell-O makes us limber

Who doesn’t do a leg lift after a bit of J-E-L-L-O?

Hey-o! Almost to the toes!

Hey-o! Jell-O makes me stretch almost to my toes!

However, I do not ever try to do tricks with my shots of liquor. There’s too much risk that it won’t make it to my mouth, which in my mind would be a travesty.

She can shoot Jell-O with no hands!

She can shoot Jell-O with no hands!

Or can she?

But really, she can’t.

Can't. Stop. Laughing. At. Her. Or, I mean with. WITH HER.

Can’t. stop. laughing. at. Aunt Crazy Pants. Errr, I mean with. Laughing WITH HER.

Upon making sure that whipped cream was ground into my carpet (thus I will not be getting my deposit back), Aunt Crazy Pants decided to go on a path of destruction in my mini manse by taking her tipsy ass into my beloved dressing room.

Fave room in my mini manse...

What CBXB does with extra bedrooms.

My dressing room is home to my two shoe towers (and no, I still don’t have too many shoes Dad and yes folks, I do wear all of them).

Tower of Shoes

Wall of bliss.

Admiring my collection

Even Ted admires my collection daily.

All was well in my closet kingdom until this tiny bull walked into my china shop and decided to trip into one of my towers that was bolted to the wall. The shelving quickly turned into a leaning tower of shoes, as it had about six inches in between the wall and the back of the racks.

Bag of Crazy

Apparently, the whipped cream on her glasses obstructed her view.

We then had to call in Camo during our girls night in to put a temporary band aid on the problem so we wouldn’t be making any trips to the emergency room with stories of shoe boxes falling onto our heads.

Closet hero

Closet hero.

Saving the Closet

I’m a big help, I know.

Crazy Pants can kiss my ass.

Think HGTV will come calling due to my mad holding skills?

When Camo was rewarded with a beer, Aunt Crazy Pants tried to show her gratitude by mauling him.

Mauling. Part 1.

Manhandling, Part 1.

Mauling Part 2.

Manhandling Part 2.

Make it stop. No seriously, make it stop.

Make the manhandling stop. No seriously, make it stop. Somebody muzzle her.

L-Dawg came in to save the the day (and Camo’s dignity) by wrangling Crazy Pants with a dish towel.

L-Dawg wrangled Crazy Pants

Making sure no more Jell-O shots spill and CP stays in her seat.

For the next eight minutes, all was good in my mini manse hood until this happened….

Down the hatch.

Down the Crazy Pant hatch.

There was no turning back once she was out of Jell-O shots, so we put a boa on her and made her dance (and we have videos to prove it).

After the finishing shots, there was no wrangling her. So we put a boa on and made her dance.

Dumb and Dumber at our dancing finest.

I’m happy to report that the mini manse is still standing. But I’m certain that’s due to the fact that Aunt Crazy Pants went home.




How to Get Into the Closet

While upgrading to a new mini manse was a tad traumatizing for me this summer (click here to catch up), I could barely wait to sign the lease on my upgraded digs after I saw the walk-in closet that would soon be mine.

Closet mania! Sold!

This is exactly how I looked when the leasing agent showed me the closet. I am the world’s worst poker player.

Upon moving in, I could barely wait to shove all of my glittered, bedazzled, pink, gaudy, (insert your favorite adjective here) clothes into their new home.

Bare as a bone.

Bare as a bone.

After all of the manhandling was over, there was one teeny, tiny problem. I couldn’t see into the f’ing closet due to the door that a man obviously designed, as it opened into the damn room, instead of outward. I had to go into the closet and shut the door just to shop in my own store.

Can't quite see...

Seeing a sliver of my threads just wasn’t going to do.

While some folks are trying to come out of their proverbial closet, I just wanted to get the F into my actual one. So one night in a pissy, hissy fit, trying to find a cardigan that was behind the door, I decided to take it off its hinges (I felt like ripping but do want my deposit back one day).

Culprit thwarted.

And suddenly, the world of my clothes became the place I always knew it could be…my own personal heaven.

Crystal clear vision instead of muddled.

I can see! It’s a summer miracle!

Becoming doorless has left my closet exposed, much to my delight.

Becoming doorless has left my closet exposed, much to my delight.

In all of its naked glory.

I can see my decor with much more ease (because every closet needs decorations, right? I can feel the eye rolls already. Yes, I’m talking to you – and I don’t care!).

I can see my pink glitter to start and end my day right.

Spotting my pink glitter to start and end my days correctly.

And I can finally see my scents and select accordingly instead of just grabbing whichever bottle my hand got to first.


Why so many to choose from? Depends which ‘personality’ I decide to be each day. Yes, I’m serious.

Of course with renewed access to my high shelves, I have my leopard stool that does the trick. Accompanied by a black, glitter throw rug.

Ted's Perch

My tiny throne.

Yes, I said sparkle black rug!

Yes, my rug sparkles. Yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds. No, you can’t have it.

This room has become my little fur ball, Ted’s favorite place to hang – most likely because it looks like a rainbow threw up in the closet (probably a psychedelic trip for a kit cat). So here’s how Mr. Bear sees the renovated space…

Is this heaven?

He starts by laying on his left side.

No, it's my closet.

Not being able to fully roll over to the other, he takes a breather and views my garments straight on his back.


And then he somehow maneuvers a roll to the right.

I know you’re wondering how all of my clothes have no shoe companions joining them in the closet.  Silly you! They have their very own room. But that’s a post for another day.

Wondering how in the world a gal like me has no shoes in her closet? Oh, they have their very own room. But that's a post for another day.

All high and mighty, sitting pretty.

So by simply becoming a design expert for all of 15 seconds and removing the closet door off its own hinges, I’m able to gander at the gaudy in my own home.

But where in the hell am I going to store the door?