Weekend Winks – Sun and Summer Fun!

Oh, hello there! Long time no talk. I’ve been dealing with a cyberstalker of sorts for 16 months and it requires me to be hyper vigilant about what I post on all social media accounts and especially this blog. But since there isn’t anything I can do about it (until I end up on Forensic Files, my fave true crime show), I’m gonna start blogging my brains out again. Fuck it.

You know I love the shit outta my pool and the Music City weather was gorgeous this weekend to make it a two day extravaganza! Sleepy joined in on the sun fun all weekend. So did the man behind my shoulder, casually photobombing our selfie.

Sleepy gifted me a new magnet but while you’re trying to read it, please also enjoy the view of my homegrown boobs. The one and only positive of gaining 50 lbs after Rapegate (I’ve since lost 20!) but I really, really, really, really don’t wanna lose my trauma tits because I’ve never had anything other than an A cup since fourth grade. And I didn’t have to buy them! Whoop.

NO SHAME IN MY GAME.

While I was sipping away in the sun, my Iowa twins were having a foam partay. I wanna get one of these and throw The Pussy Posse in it just to see what happens. The machine brand is FOAMO and you can find it here on Amazon if you wanna support billionaire Jeff Bezos’s next penis shaped rocket ship. (Full disclosure I have an Amazon Prime membership). You can also get it at Target but it’s a bit pricier.

Princess B was pretty pumped about her new back to school kicks and who can blame her? Oh the joy of loving the last of summer vacay days before school (if Rona lets it be in person, which might I remind you to WEAR A FUCKING MASK even if you’re vaccinated. Asymptomatic, vaccinated folks can still transmit the virus to others including KIDS).

I got to FaceTime with one of my goddogs, Maxie Saturday. His mama, Boston Barbie was also allowed to talk – some. I mean, does he love his Auntie Captain or what?!

Speaking of love, this little shithead has tried to escape the bounties of endless spoiling granted to her at the Mini Manse twice recently. I lost my big toenail in one of the instances. She thinks it’s all fun and fucking games to see me schlep behind her, while my sciatica screams at me to stop. She’s lucky she’s so goddamn k-ute.

Sunday was certainly a fun day! Dada CBXB came in for a fab day at a mostly quiet pool. We’re greasing up our livers for family tradition Hawkeye touchdown shots that are gonna be down our hatches in less than a month. YeeHAW!

He also loves when I fetch him drinks and when he switched from rot gut (lowest end vodka possible mixed with Coke) to beer, he said it was in a koozie already.

Save Big Money at Menards! He also sported his fave t-shirt gifted to him forever ago by Miss Mt. Ayr. Red, White and Brew, Baby.

Dada CBXB left before I was ready to head back to the Mini Manse, so I was again, called upon to fetch something for him. Can you tell whose shoes are whose?

Sleepy stayed to hang and keep the drinks endlessly flowing, so I never quite know what number of cocktail I’m on. She’s sneaky good like that and in the pic below, I think I’m still on libation number one even though we’d been at the pool for four hours already.

When we retired from the pool, my Big Three needed their own happy hour out of my bathroom sink. Even thought I have six water bowls and a goddamn cat fountain, they need to drink out of a faucet. Jesus fuck. My vet always says she wants to come back in another life as one of my Pussy Posse. Can we blame her?

While Rocky, Fabio and Ruby Sue were sipping away, Prissy wanted to remind me how sorry she was about scrambling out the door (I think she can collapse her rib cage like a mouse and squeeze through any opening). She is highly aware that wrapping herself around me like a scarf is a sure way to ease my hate/love her to like/love her again.

She’s also aware that today is a BIG day for us. It’s our two year anniversary and I honestly don’t know how either of us ever lived without the other before we met. Happy Gotcha Day bébé.

It’s always a pile on when the white noise machine hits play. The Big Three come in this order: Rocky, Fabio, Ruby Sue. And they all want to sit in the same spot by my head. It’s really fabulous for my neck. Prissy sleeps on the other side butt-to-butt with me. When the lights go out The Little Three make their way into my queen size bed for a fun snooze fest.

As the numbers of Rona climb – AfuckingGAIN – please know that I will be using my Irish accent anytime I see Tennessee’s piss poor governor, Bill Lee, or my very unfavorite Senator Marsha Motherfucking Eat Shit and Die Blackburn. These two ding dongs are highly responsible for the lack of unvaccinated Tennesseans, Lee fired our state’s Dr. Fauci for trying to create better vaccine outreach last month and Nashville’s Rona numbers were up 400% in July. Nashville’s unofficial slogan is “love thy neighbor” so lets FUCKING DO BETTER.

If anyone else I know gets Rona and dies from what could have been EASILY prevented I may spontaneously combust. You are not a super hero. You are not immune. Wear a mask for others and just be a good human.

I really don’t prefer the way I look on fire anyhow.

Stay safe. Mask up.

Love ya, Mean it.

CBXB

BUY ME A DRINK

The Stupid Cardinal

When Aunt Crazy Pants was fighting her fierce battle with fucking cancer, she told family to think of her every time we saw a cardinal after she passed. I took that advice and ran – it’s the best thing of my day when I see a red bird. And somehow, it always comes at a time that I’m trying to make a decision or on the verge of a panic attack. Funny how the universe works.

See a cardinal, think of me.

My Iowa twins also took that advice and sprinted.  Announcing whenever they would see a cardinal that it was ACP.

Birds of a feather.

But Princess B, especially, took to the notion.

If you’re gonna go, go all in.

This ties to the passing of my beloved sidekick, Precious the Chug. Presh (or Pweshy as the twins called her) was always a welcomed joy to my Iowa duo. Luckily she didn’t mind getting gussied up to impress her fashion upon them when we would head up to see the twins.

All glittered up and ready to go.

A nine-hour drive never deterred this dog’s ability to behave.

World’s Greatest Traveler.

It was a maulfest as soon as we’d arrive to the Iowa palace where my twins reside.

Hands on.

The squeeze.

One of their favorite parts of seeing Presh was walking her out and around the neighborhood.

Dynamic duo dog walkers.

Princess B always had to have alone time with her fave chug.

Walk Solo.

She’d be upset when we’d leave (I mean, what’s not to miss people), and it would tug at my heart strings something fierce. A video like the one below had me wanting to pack up my rust bucket and drive non-sensibly to Iowa from Nashville.

Luckily, it was time for Dada CBXB and myself to fly our sleigh in for Christmas shortly after receiving the tearful action shot of my takes-after-me-in-the-drama-department niece.

We’re baaaaaaaaaaack!

Precious was just so pleased.

Obviously.

A look of love.
Also, a look of hate.

We continued to change outfits and make a model of my canine.

Poser.

P was even fortunate enough to ride shotgun in Princess B’s new ride.

Cruisin’ for a bruisin’.

And then there was Presh’s cousin, Spike, who like everyone else before him fell in love with my little Ewok.

My horse-sized dogphew.

Spike and I have always had a tight bond, being the crazy animal lover that I am, letting him love attack me whenever he deemed necessary.

Snuggle buddies.

Dance partners. I took the lead, naturally.

Once Spike laid eyes on Precious, it was L.O.V.E.

A hard, romantic comedy type of love.

He barely left her side for a second, attentively watching P’s every move.

Making sure she was properly seated for all meals.

Letting her use his new Christmas bone first.

When it was clearly meant for a dog of a much larger stature.

When Presh had enough, she would sit on her throne and watch Spike roam around the couch, anticipating her jump down.

Waiting out the horse dog.

Preshy was already a member of the family because she was basically my fur covered spawn.

She cocktailed with us.

She cheersed with us.

She watched movies with us.

She played in the snow with us.

She dried off at the kitchen bar with us.

She forcefully posed with us.

In between visits, we’d Facetime with the kids and they always needed to know what the fuck Presh was up to (along with my other four fur kids). This past March, the Prince and Princess graced Nashville with their presence and you can guess who had the pleasure of being the guest of honor.

All tucked in.

All tuckered out.

Cuddle chug.

Walk Solo round two.

When we suddenly lost Precious a month ago, there are no words for the way my heart ached (and still does). But I don’t think anyone realized how hard it would smack Princess B. The day she found out, I was ordered to send all photos and videos I had of the chug to Sister CBXB for memories.

R.I.P. Sweet P.

When she was told that one day she would see Presh again (like in 140 years when my mini me passes away and reunites with all animals she’s loved), Princess B replied, “Yeah. AS A STUPID CARDINAL.”

Oh the reasoning of kids.

Yesterday, the twins were out walking their horse dog.

Spike is more manageable now that the kids are taller.

Princess Prance.

After getting these pics, I couldn’t help but smile that they were having fun with my dogphew. Then, this text came in from Sister CBXB.

I died. I laughed. I cried. A legacy left by Aunt Crazy Pants has now lead to comfort in areas of grieving for my little loves.

Maybe Princess B doesn’t think cardinals are so stupid after all.

I sure the fuck don’t.

CBXB

 

Weekend Winks – Slumber Party, Sniffles and Snuggles

Anything better than a fun old-fashioned slumber party?

Captain, First Mate and Clark Griswold don’t think so.

I had three gal pals over to the mini manse in order to jump start my holiday spirit slump – and boy did it do some good for yours truly.

Sparkles, Umbros and wine for four.

Not too long after one box of wine, we couldn’t figure out how to open the second…

Um, it doesn’t even have a cork.

So I thought it was the best time to bring out my homemade sangria, Pirate’s Punch, which consists of Fireball, Captain Morgan and red wine.

Who needs Betty Crocker when you can be Betty Crocked?

Upon proudly sharing my non-store purchased concoction, my friend Bex said “Tastes homemade.”

Uhhhh, thanks?

I made her drink it anyhow.

Or did I?

Typically a true party animal seeking to be the center of attention at all times, I knew my Tedstar was feeling low when I had to force him to take a selfie.

Stuffy host due to kitty sniffles.

When it was time for the ladies to sleigh bell it to slumber in their own beds, I gave away pussies as parting gifts.

Just kidding. They stayed.

Saturday morning I was hoping to treat myself to brunch with sat-out-all-night-snacks but who wants room temperature carrots as hangover food?

No breakfast for me.

While I was perusing an empty fridge, my Iowa twins were basking in the first snowfall of the year.

A few inches to start the season.

Being that they are almost four, this duo isn’t looking forward to the holidays, presents or Santa.

Not excited for Christmas. At all.

I for sure wasn’t excited to take Ted to the vet – worried that his sniffles may signify a worse problem than the common cat cold.

Getting the cold shoulder.

At the risk of sounding like an even bat shit crazier cat lady than I already am, I found TB’s little stuffed up nose and snot bubbles kinda cute.

Not at ALL amused having to breathe through his mouth.

I knew I was in for it on the way home after the vet because not only did he get shots of antibiotics but they also took blood as well, which is something that never thrills Ted E. Bear.

Trouble in paradise for CBXB.

Dropping my pissy pussy off to pout the day away, I headed to my fave watering hole Dalts for a little happy hair of the dog.

Taking the edge off.

I was only in the restaurant about 12 minutes before I inhaled a cheeseburger that I couldn’t eat fast enough but wanted to make last the entire day.

There was a burger here. I swear.

Heading home Saturday night to watch college football conference games, I was reminded where I was a year prior. The Big Ten Championship game in Indianapolis with Camo, The Silent Indian and Dada CBXB, cheering on my beloved Hawkeyes (who have had a less than stellar 2016 season BUT made it to the Outback Bowl – I’ll take it).

Two Hawkeyes, a Spartan and a Volunteer.

Funny thing is, although Iowa lost in the last two seconds of the game, it was still one of the best days of my life. As I prepped to watch Wisconsin play Penn State, I couldn’t help but connect with this sign during Game Day.

Truth.

Sunday snuggles meant that somebody was starting to feel back to his old self.

Sunday make-up session.

After a day of rest and relaxation, the work week has started off guns blazing. Which is why I may or may not have Pirate’s Punch in my mug…

100% chance.

Here’s hoping there’s more snuggles than sniffles in your week.

Cheers!

CBXB

 

p.s. – Only 25 more days until Fuck Yeah 2017!

 

 

How to Stay Warm With Booze

Winter weather got you feeling tired and blue with no one to nuzzle up to?

Oh please. Don’t let that sad face fool you. I maul Ted daily.

Between pouring hot water on frozen car doors and shivering my ass off in the unusually fridgid Tennessee weather trying to get my vehicle to start this past weekend, I did the only thing I could do to keep myself warm.

Drink liquor. Warm liquor.

Two hot toddies per day keeps the cold air at bay! Wait, or is it four?

I’m sure you’re all shocked that I have other methods than just my thermostat to ward off the chilly temps. My stay warm cocktail basically gussies up bland hot chocolate (I know, I know, I’m a genius).

Allow me to introduce you to ….

The Snuggler

Here’s what you’ll need for this belly heating treat:

Kahlua

Peppermint Schnapps

Hot Chocolate

A boozy electric blanket for your body.

Start by carefully pouring a hearty amount of Kahlua into the mug.

Follow with a heavy-handed glug (I seriously wait for the liquid to make a gulping sound as it escapes the bottle) of peppermint schnapps.

Mix a package of hot chocolate (I selected diet hot chocolate, so as not to feel guilty about the generous amount of liquor included in my concoction – and then I call it The Skinny Snuggler) with boiling water into your mug.  The true recipe calls for one part Kahlua, one part Peppermint Schnapps and two parts hot chocolate but now that’s not any fun, is it?

Upon completion, you will have to fight off those around you who want a sip (or lick) of their own.

Paws off!

So you’ll need to make a batch big enough for sharing – because sharing is caring, isn’t it?

Mix. Drink. Share. Repeat. Mix. Drink. Share. Repeat. Mix. Drink. Share. Repeat.

This method will lead to some serious snuggling.

Let the mauling begin.

And ends up being quite a fun cold weather remedy.

Cheers!

CBXB

How to Snuggle in a Tour Bus Bunk

Getting cozy in any bunk bed can be tricky but squeezing two bodies into a tour bunk seemed impossible this past weekend (although I know it’s not.  I’ve heard stories. I know babies have been created the tiny space. And we found a condom wrapper in one bunk from a previous trip – eewww, gross!).

Small spaces are apparently  fun places.

The bus I rode on for my company trip to see Kenny Chesney had 12 bunks for our sleeping pleasure (although I think I spent roughly five hours in my fun space the two nights we were on the bus).

12 beds. But I think it could “sleep” 24…

The slim hallway to the back bus lounge was surrounded by three bunks high by four bunks long.

Sleepy hallway.

For complete privacy in your bunk, you simply shut the non-soundproof curtain (I suggest bringing ear phones, ear plugs or your own pillow to put over your head if noise bothers you).

Tunnel of bunks.

There was plenty of room for me (an almost 5’5″ gal) to stretch out comfortably.

This is the life…

And if I wasn’t so concerned on missing out on any of the shenanigans taking place in the front lounge, I might have watched a movie on the drop down DVD player in my snuggle cave.

No time for movies! There were Skinny Pirates to drink and Truth or Dare to be played!

Being that I’m so tall and not limber in the slightest, I chose a bunk on the top (naturally) and ungracefully hoisted myself up there time and time again. There’s no ladder, no step, no ‘oh shit’ handles while trying to climb in and out of the bed. So once I had my clumsy ass in the bunk, it made sense to get the full on experience of a duo between the sheets.

I hope I don’t have to go pee.

Enter my gal pal C. She is an experienced tour lady and sauntered up to the top bunk like she was a ballerina (she didn’t see my entrance, thankfully).

Two’s a cozy crowd.

While seeing the allure of sharing a bunk if not wanting to get one single moment of sleep, C and I decided after 46 seconds of snuggling that we’d probably be more cozy in our own love caves on wheels.  But if you really want to mingle in a single, be sure you’ve brushed your teeth (or are drunk and don’t care), shaved your legs (because there’s no way legs will not be intertwining) wear minimal clothing (this space will become a hot box once you grace it with your presence – let alone two bodies) and be prepared to snuggle your brains out.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

As Santa would say, the more the merrier.

CBXB