Weekend Winks – Freezing! Fiesta! Football! Fun!

One of the joys of living in a city that isn’t equipped to handle any type of winter weather, is it’s kinda fun when it comes. Freezing rain on Friday meant that I was able to slide out of work and into my bed for a day of conference calls and cat naps (the cats, not me of course).

When you’re given the option to work from home…

YOU TAKE IT.

No one was excited about it at all.

My mom checked in from Iowa to make sure I was all set with necessities because it’s a fucking freak out frenzy when there is even mention of the “s” word – SNOW. Nashville citizens (and anyone else who didn’t grow up above the Mason Dixon Line) all but lose their goddamned minds.

While I was hunkered down with my pussies Saturday, my Iowa twins were getting hyped up to par-tay. Why you ask? Because they are turning five – FIVE – FUCKING FIVE YEARS OLD – on Wednesday. I mean holy fucking shit how did this happen so fast?

FIVE!

Due to the fact that Princess B eats salsa like its soup, the day was a fiesta complete with the best cakes on the planet.

Crazy over cake.

My artsy sis even crafted a pinata for the occasion.

FUCKING FIVE.

Fiesta fun!

Naturally, there were outfit choices to be made and Princess B did not disappoint.

Just a little gussy up.

Nor did she get any salsa on the sequins.

I finally mustered up the energy to walk over to Rasta’s pad on Saturday night, forcing myself out into the blustery cold I’m not used to anymore. Speaking of force, Rasta isn’t a football fan of any sort and I made her watch the Titans game in her own house.

I’m so sweet.

While I drank her wine.

Tailgate City.

My Titans were playing actual football titans, the New England Patriots and so I was hoping for at least a touchdown. And we scored one first! Then, just as quickly as that happened, my dudes ended up getting an ass beating. Rasta kept up with the team spirit though, assisting me through the horrendous game.

She’s officially my wine coach now.

Yeah, it was that bad.

She wins the sportsmanship award for sure.

Football fun.

I was up at what felt like the ass crack of dawn on Sunday to watch a segment on CBS Sunday Morning. It was regarding the Time’s Up movement and Oprah interviewed several prominent women who helped initiate the campaign. Being that I take great interest in this due to Rapegate and the #MeToo movement, I expected support from my pussies.

Only one showed the fuck up.

#whywewearblack

The others were busy having a menage à trois in the unmade bed.

Thanks for the support, assholes.

While watching other NFL playoff games, I started to take down the few Christmas decorations I put up this year and toyed with the idea of Valentine’s Day. But promptly stopped after dressing my Glamingo.

I also somehow came across a hideous Pucci hat that a lady who thought she was famous and was my boss at the time gave me as a leftover present (she would regift her unwanted Christmas presents to me for my birthday in March). You want it? It’s yours.

Her exact positioning and expression in every photo.

After throwing one helluva classy fiesta, my sister pulled through in our white trash ways when storing leftovers.

After getting her text, I was craving Mexican and justlikethat First Mate sent a text wanting to meet up for wine at our fave joint. Talk about fate.

We come for the handsome pours of wine, not the margaritas.

The Minnesota Vikings game (which was one of the best last second endings ever) was on at the restaurant. The fans chant skol and my sister and I were confused as to what it meant. We had an Iowa-Tennessee-Georgia family tutorial via text from my cousin Tballs – a huge Vikings fan.

My guess of “yeehaw” was way off.

After heading home with a belly full of wine, salsa and chips, I settled in for a night cap.

A literal night cap.

Here’s hoping your week is full of fiesta-ish fun.

SKOL!

CBXB

 

 

 

 

The Things I Do For Booze

What do you do when it’s snowed six inches overnight in a city that can barely function when it rains three centimeters and you realize that you only have enough wine for one more glass?

First world problems.

SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! CALL THE WINEBULANCE!

Since the Nashville Public Works denied my attempts to sweet talk a street sweeper to drop some vino my way, I trudged out of the mini manse to further assess the situation.

My snowmobile wasn't moving.

My snowmobile wasn’t moving.

So, I went back inside to load up on booze fuel in order to get my energy levels up in order to possibly face Snowmaggedon on my own.

Litle something warm.

Running on coconut rum and coffee.

With a belly full of warm libations, I headed out to haul my ass to the mother of all things blizzard. The liquor store.

Let's do this.

Let’s do this.

Naturally, I gussied Precious the Chug up in a matching outfit, as I needed company on my 1.5 mile walk.

P was all gussed up in a matching outit. Yes, I'm that pathetic.

Yes, I’m that pathetic.

Presh was all kinds of excited until she saw this first block of wet nonsense she’d have to traipse through.

IMG_0005

You want me to put my four inch arm in six inches of snow?

She turned around faster than one can acquire whiplash in a fender bender.

FUck that noise.

Fuck that noise.

So then I was off on a lone trip to kill more of my vastly shrinking brain cells.

So I was off in my not pink snowboots.

Losing site of each foot in the snow with every step.

Keeping myself entertained, I took selfies about every 200 feet.

Bending in this

Yep. Still shin deep.

I must say it was a tad eerie being out on typically bustling roads but I had no time to be scared because I was trying to thwart myself from heat exhaustion due to the 18 layers of clothing I’d thrown on myself before leaving my mini manse.

Lovely views

All down hill from here.

After getting tangled in branches that rivaled a Disney villain, I finally made it to the store after 90 minutes of non-wanted exercise.

Treacherous Trees

Treacherous trees.

Hallelujah!

I shoulda brought a backpack. Fuck.

Being that I didn’t want to over exert myself with back to back 1.5 mile walks (and also being that the entire way to the mini manse would be uphill), I decided to see if the bar next door was open.

Better fuel up before heading up the hill I just about had a heartattack comeing down.

Better fuel up before heading up the hill I just about had a heart attack coming down.

Everyone on the west side of Nashville appeared to be at the local joint, as it was asses and elbows at 4pm.

One tasty cocktail for me.

My kind of fuel.

Just so happens, I met up with some of my favorite gents who were looking for some snow day fun themselves.

Knights in Shining Armor

Snow days don’t suck.

1 100 for the road.

At all.

When it was time to say goodbye, my buddies became my knights in shining armor, giving this busted ass queen a ride up the hill. Naturally I insisted they come in for just one cocktail. And maybe a little guitar playing. And maybe a little dance party. And maybe another shot. Or nine.

We made it home shot!

The ‘we made it home shot’!

A little music break.

Guitar hero.

Because it's a snow day break.

The ‘because it’s his birthday shot’.

Head banging from the couch.

Head banging from the couch.

Because it's we're thirsty shots.

The ‘because we’re thirsty shots’.

Put your glitter kitty in the air. And wave it like you just don't care.

Put your glitter kitty in the air. And wave it like you just don’t care.

Because we can shot.

The ‘because it’s a snow day shot’.

Sock fighting with a chug at its finest.

Sock fighting with a chug at its finest.

Because we can't stop shots.

Because we can’t stop shots.

You know what comes in handy to soak up copious amounts of liquor consumed? Snacks. Unfortunately, due to the snow (and my decision to save myself with wine instead of food), I only had a pan of cornbread to offer as a feast.

Crumbs of cornbread.

It went over well.

All in all, I’d say we partied our cabin fever right out onto the snow covered sidewalks.

Um....so yeah, I'm empty.

The empty aftermath.

I know I did.

Snow days are hard.

What the fuck did happen last night?!

Snow days are hard.

Cheers!

CBXB

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The Snowpocalypse of 2016

Living in Nashville, winter has brought on a whole new experience when it comes to weather.

The city is currently completely shut down (the mayor has asked everyone stay off the roadways today) due to inches of ice on roads and temperatures below freezing, topped with new fallen snow.

Lacking appropriate snow accessories.

The snowcessories most Tennesseans use to clear their cars (maybe minus the Captain).

While this seems piddly compared to what other Americans are experiencing to our north, this slight winter weather halts an entire city, as there is a lack of equipment to care for the roads. Citizens can hardly handle driving in the rain, let alone freezing precipitation and quite frankly, current weather conditions happen about once every 15 years.

90 minute workout

It was a 90 minute workout and half a tank of gas to get my car de-iced.

Because I had to get through this first…

How badly do I really want wine today?

How badly do I really want wine today?

And while businesses, schools and folks everywhere are turning into Jack Nicholson from The Shining due to cabin fever, I’m not sorry the Snowpocalypse of 2016 is now occurring. Because snow days are fun. Snow days are for play.

Being raised in the Midwest, it was a very rare treat to get your ass out and actually play in the snow when you were supposed to be sitting in a social studies class.

I'm a lotta help. But I look cute.

Helping Dad shovel the sidewalk. The broom was a big help.

Growing up in rural Iowa, no one batted an eye when several inches (or feet) of snow, high winds and freezing temperatures were included in the forecast for the next day. No one rushed home early from work clogging up the streets, made a mad dash to the grocery stores buying all of the milk and bread in sight and no one abandoned their vehicles on the side of the road due to the frozen flakes falling from the sky (as people tend to do in my current state of Tennessee).

Anytime winter weather is in the forecast, the South freaks the fuck out.

No shit.

Bread and milk aisles in Nashville when snow is in the forecast.

Where I grew up, school was never, ever cancelled the night before predicted winter weather – which often included blizzards, sleet, hail, ice accompanied by subzero temperatures and wind chills (in Tennessee, entire counties and districts will call off school if any meteorologist utters the word “snow” during the weather segment).

Getting a snow day in Iowa was about as possible as Martians landing in the community park.

I DON'T WANT SNOWFLAKES IN MY EYES.

I wish I may, I wish I might, please let the snowfall cancel school for my delight.

So it was a rare treat when the phone (that was connected to the kitchen wall – oh the good ‘ol days) would ring in the wee hours of the morning announcing that school was cancelled (mostly because the buses couldn’t make the trip to get kids in the country).  Instead of sleeping one moment more, my sister and I got our asses out of bed like it was Christmas morning, adorned ourselves in all kinds of snow gear and headed out to play in the wonderland of white (usually with our cousins, who lived right across the street).

It takes this kind of snow to shut down schools in Iowa.

This kind of snow won’t merit a school snow day in Iowa.

After getting gussied up in our winter finest, first we’d sled in the road, which felt like we were breaking all kind of societal rules.

The dog.

How ’bout my mom’s shit kickers? So warm in subzero temperatures.

Next, my sister and I would build snowmen complete with cute, cozy accessories (mine came off of my body).

Sacrificing my warmth for a fashionable snow man...or maybe snow gal with the pink stocking hat.

Sacrificing my warmth for a fashionable snowman, naturally.

Then my cousins, the Morris boys, thought it would be a good idea to dig through the snow to Timbuktu.  I would rather have made snow angels and bedazzle my handmade frozen creatures but of course I agreed to help excavate (as I had a cute shovel I wanted to put to use – and by I, I mean my cousin Derek. Let’s remember my fingernails are jewels, not tools).

Can we live here?

Can we live here?

I thought it was nothing short of a winter miracle when my dad and Uncle Lewis came out to play with us, constructing a snow fort out of a drift in my backyard, complete with a tunnel – diverting the dig to faraway lands (thank GOD – I was getting tired of being the project manager).

All these years later, I long for a true snow day to build (well, rather sit on my ample derriere and watch my cousins, dad and uncle construct) a fort but instead, I’m longing for a winebulance to head down my snow covered roadway, rescuing me from my current situation.

Near tears stuck with mere ounces of wine left.

Near tears stuck with mere ounces of wine left.

Anyone want to road trip it to the liquor store with me?

C’mon!

CBXB

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Parental Pussy FAIL

Turns out not only can I not take photos with my pussies, I’m the world’s worst cat mom when it comes to snow days.

Photography fail. Feline photo fail

Feline photo fail 8,054,278.

Nashville has recently been pummeled with winter weather outside of the norm. And that’s meant staying in, hunkering down and working in my finest pjs.

Snow day office attire.

Snow day office attire.

Days home due to snow also require a trip to the grocery whenever a winter advisory is in place and Nashvillians feel the need to stock up on any and everything under the sun. Especially milk and bread.

Save yourself.

Save yourself. The lines were about 16 deep at each checkout.

So instead of getting snow day food essentials, I filled my car with the more important necessities when stuck at home.

Most important stocking up of all.

Priorities.

Upon waking up and realizing I needed to put a layer of carbs in my belly before commencing on the day drinking ahead of me, I found an old box of pancake mix and blueberries in the fridge that didn’t yet have mold growing on them.

Homemade breakfast.

Yes, I can cook. Don’t go dying of shock.

After stuffing my face (because I’m like any good selfless mom, I fed me first) with what felt like eight pounds of pancakes, I realized my little fur balls needed some meat for their bones too.

Cats need food too...

Awe, little prince was rationing his food.

But then, this happened when I went to the cat pantry….

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Upon hearing the cling of the metal food pan ringing a little too loudly due to the lack of food inside, Ted had some choice looks for me.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE'RE OUT OF FOOD?!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE’RE OUT OF FOOD?!

Mr. Bear looked in the cupboards with no luck.

Cupboards were empty

Nothing but crumbs.

New Cat checked under the kitchen rug to no avail.

None under here. Rug rate.

My mom hates me.

When I tried calming them down, saying I had tuna (that may or may not have expired in 2010) somewhere in a drawer I returned from my search to this on my computer.

Oh boy.

Oh boy.

Feeling slightly guilty that I had my booze and batter on hand, I thought I would be a super mom and brave the icy streets of Nashville to get these little assholes their fancy $60 cat food (Ted has kitty Celiac’s Disease and New Cat just lucks out – the little bastard).

I then realized that the only tools I had to fight the ice was my Captain and a spatula.

An Iowa girl minus a scraper.

What kind of Iowa girl am I without an ice scraper?!? Yet another fail from yours truly. Sorry Iowa.

Turns out the cooking utensil was no match for the ice that had frozen every opening of my vehicle shut.

Getting nowhere fast.

Getting nowhere fast.

One quarter of the way through after 55 minutes.

One quarter of the way through after 48 minutes.

Realizing that my efforts were going to go down in flames, I trudged back inside to tell my pussies the bad news.  Teddy took it about as well as when he jumped in a bush like Garfield.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CSN'T GET OUT?!

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T GET OUT?!

New Cat in all of his dramatic glory, fainted.

Ohmygod! Ohmygod. Ohmygaaaaaaawd.

OMG. Ohmygod! Ohmygod. Ohmygaaaaaaawd.

Luckily for me, my buddy Camo texted that he’d be up my way in his heavy duty truck and asked if I needed anything. And boy, was he sorry (no good deed goes unpunished) when I told him I needed the fancy prescription cat food for His Royal Highness and Mr. Annoying.

He nicely agreed to pick it up, so I called the pet store to see if I could pay over the phone. While the business transaction was a success, the store was closing in 15 minutes due to the inclement weather. At this point, I just felt like I should end it all and let the cats eat my face in lieu of their precious fucking food.

But lo and behold Camo whisked in with a bag just in the nick of time (I’d chosen to put my head in the oven due to warmth).

Snow Hero to the rescue!

Camo needs a cape.

New Cat was so happy to see this sight that he started to make out with the bag of food.

Love

Hugging on the fine delicatessen.

Kissing on the food.

Kissing, er…biting on the bag.

Escorting the damn food to its new home.

Escorting the damn food to its new home.

And diving right in on the fresh duck and pea food.

And diving right in on the fresh duck and pea concoction.

Naturally my first born was nothing but pissed off, yet still found a way to eat anyhow.

I hate your guts but my fancy food is delish.

I hate your guts but my fancy food is delish.

We’ve since all made up.

Back to being mauled. Just as it should be.

Back to being mauled. Just as it should be.

Lesson learned folks. My checklist for the next winter weather advisory:

  1. Cat food
  2. Captain
  3. Cat food
  4. Wine
  5. Cat food

Can someone please remind me of this list? It’s hard being blonde.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

 

 

For the Love of a Snow Day

Living in Nashville, winter has brought on a whole new experience when it comes to weather.

The city is currently almost completely shut down (the mayor has asked everyone stay off the roadways for the past three days) due to inches of ice on roads and temperatures below freezing, topped with new fallen snow.

Lacking appropriate snow accessories.

The snowcessories most Tennesseans use to clear their cars (maybe minus the Captain).

While this seems piddly compared to what other Americans are experiencing to our north, this slight winter weather halts an entire city, as there is a lack of city equipment to care for the roads, citizens can hardly handle driving in the rain, let alone freezing precipitation and quite frankly, current weather conditions happen about once every 15 years.

90 minute workout

It was a 90 minute workout and half a tank of gas to get my car de-iced yesterday.

And while businesses, schools and folks everywhere are turning into Jack Nicholson from The Shining due to cabin fever, I find myself feeling sorry that the city is shut down due to ice, not snow. Because snow days are fun. Snow days are for play.

Being from the Midwest, it was a very rare treat to get your ass out and actually play in the snow when you were supposed to be sitting in a social studies class.

I'm a lotta help. But I look cute.

Helping Dad shovel the sidewalk. The broom was a big help.

Growing up in rural Iowa, no one batted an eye when several inches (or feet) of snow, high winds and freezing temperatures were included in the forecast for the next day. No one rushed home early from work clogging up the streets, made a mad dash to the grocery stores buying all of the milk and bread in sight and no one abandoned their vehicles on the side of the road due to the frozen flakes falling from the sky (as people tend to do in my current state of Tennessee).

Anytime winter weather is in the forecast, the South freaks the fuck out.

No shit.

Bread and milk aisles in Nashville when snow is in the forecast.

Where I grew up, school was never, ever cancelled the night before predicted winter weather – which often included blizzards, sleet, hail, ice accompanied by subzero temperatures and wind chills (in Tennessee, entire counties and districts will call off school if any meteorologist utters the word “snow” during the weather segment).

Getting a snow day in Iowa was about as possible as Martians landing in the community park.

I DON'T WANT SNOWFLAKES IN MY EYES.

I wish I may, I wish I might, please let the snowfall cancel school for my delight.

So it was a rare treat when the phone (that was connected to the kitchen wall – oh the good ‘ol days) would ring in the wee hours of the morning announcing that school was cancelled (mostly because the buses couldn’t make the trip to get kids in the country).  Instead of sleeping one moment more, my sister and I got our asses out of bed like it was Christmas morning, adorned ourselves in all kinds of snow gear and headed out to play in the wonderland of white (usually with our cousins, who lived right across the street).

It takes this kind of snow to shut down schools in Iowa.

This kind of snow won’t merit a school snow day in Iowa.

Documented below is one of the funnest snow days in history (well, my history).

First we got to sled in the road, which felt like we were breaking all kind of societal rules.

The dog.

How ’bout my mom’s shit kickers? So warm in subzero temperatures.

Second, my sister and I built snowmen complete with cute, cozy accessories (mine came off of my body).

Sacrificing my warmth for a fashionable snow man...or maybe snow gal with the pink stocking hat.

Sacrificing my warmth for a fashionable snowman, naturally.

Then my cousins, the Morris boys, thought it would be a good idea to dig through the snow to Timbuktu.  I would rather have made snow angels and bedazzle my handmade snow creatures but of course I agreed to help excavate (as I had a cute shovel I wanted to put to use – and by I, I mean my cousin Derek. Let’s remember my fingernails are jewels, not tools).

Can we live here?

Can we live here?

I thought it was nothing short of a winter miracle when my dad and Uncle Lewis came out to play with us, constructing a snow fort out of a drift in my backyard, complete with a tunnel – diverting the dig to faraway lands (thank GOD – I was getting tired of being the project manager).

All these years later, I long for a true snow day to build (well, rather sit on my ample derriere and watch my cousins, dad and uncle construct) a fort.

But then again, I live in a state that has snow days with no snow.

Anyone want to road trip it to Iowa?

C’mon!

CBXB

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