Weekend Winks – Super Hero, Sun and Snuggles

Life. Last week was a doozy in the fact that my chronic fatigue kicked into high gear. I was so ready for Friday at 5pm, I came home and when I laid down on the couch, I woke up two hours later. I’m not a napper but damn it felt ah-mah-zing.

While I was busy snoozing, Prince B was kicking ass and taking names as a super warrior ninja.

Even ninjas use jazz hands.

He was supposed to use his super power abilities to make it through the obstacle course.

Nailed it.

You know what else this handsome devil can do? Model. His love of books rivals my own and Sister CBXB has taken the twins to the library since forever. Proof is in the banner below.

Literature stud since birth. Yes, I can get you an autograph.

Speaking of autographs, I can also secure you one of Princess B when she becomes a hair model.

Curls on point.

I mean…can you even?

After my mini marathon of a nap Friday, I moved my ass to the bathtub and read to relax. I went to bed around midnight and woke up at 11:30am on Saturday looking nothing like the storybook princesses do. But damn was I rested.

A not so Sleeping Beauty.

As soon as I saw the sun was out, I met Rasta up at the pool where we had on matching swimsuits that were filled out a skosh differently.


My other gal pal, Voodoo found the.perfect.float at my mothership, Target. I will be purchasing this on my next payday because, how could I live without it?


Saturday night called for a birthday party for my gal pal G (you know, the one who defended my honor and almost fought an 80-year-old man). It was a real treat to see these ladies.

Fab four.

I don’t get to see them as much lately due to the fact that they have procreated. And while I am extremely busy raising four lazy pussies, I can’t get them to play games with me. So I borrow everyone else’s spawn.

Don’t worry. There was a babysitter babysitting me, too.

Sunday was so dreary I could only think of one thing that might make it better.

The perfect Iowa trifecta of goods. Fresh sweet corn, Anderson Erickson Old Fashioned Cottage Cheese and their fucking bomb ass French Onion dip (which I always call french vanilla – sooooooo hard being blonde). Please, for the love of GAWD can a grocery store start carrying these products below the Mason Dixon Line?!

Throw in a steak and this could be my last meal.

Still feeling tired as all get out, I went back to bed to read only to be pounced on (a very, slow, lethargic pounce) by Rocky.

14 lbs of pussy.

My fucking arm and hand went numb because how could I move this face? HOW?

Dead weight.

While trying to do things with my non-dominant left hand, I happened to scroll passed a very accurate meme on Instagram.

Further fucking proof of a snoozing Pussy Posse.

Obviously Rocco moved and I was able to resume finishing my book. Then I was down a pussy in the bed and went on the hunt for Fabio who typically is demanding a head rub on my chest. I found him on the kitty condo enjoying some solitude.

He just needed a minute.

While I was getting ready to pour myself a cup of Sleepytime tea, these two clowns were still up at 8:30pm when their usual bedtime routine starts around 7pm.

Night caps of milk.

Monday started out in the loveliest way possible. As my alarm did its duty, the pussies that were sleeping in each arm pit and on my chest scattered, knowing it was feeding time. I rolled over and saw cat ass. Awe.

Best view in bed.

Here’s hoping you don’t already feel like this today, too.




We’re Baaaaaaaack!

CBXB is back in Nashville after the overindulging (by eating at least 4,278 calories in one day) at the Iowa State Fair, partying down for Gma’s 90th birthday and running like a mad woman through the Atlanta airport, trying to make a connecting flight and ending up sprawled out (shoes and ears of corn all over the place) in the middle of Terminal C (but I made my flight!).

We're baaack!

Absence makes the heart grow fonder…for one of us, anyhow.

Did you miss us?

We sure missed you (in between corn dogs, birthday cake and Iowa sweet corn)!



Key West Winks

Leaving Nashville and heading to sunny Key West was no difficult task.  I managed to fit right in with the red necks, gays and high-class folks (well, not really this group) but having a pool boy wait on me hand and foot for days on end was fabulous…

Where's Tom Hanks when you need him?

Where’s Tom Hanks and a blow dryer when you need him?

I kicked off my trip with a Sunset Colada – Captain Morgan in a pina colada. Hello love at first sip!

Captain Rita

Captain Colada

While sipping on my new favorite beach cocktail, I died and went to heaven, then came back to Earth as I ate fresh stone crab claws.

Stone crab heaven

Is this heaven? No, it’s just a crab claw.

We crossed the longest bridges that I’ve ever seen – it was like the movie Groundhog’s Day, only above water.

World's longest bridges

Have I been here before? Or am I just having a blonde moment?

Meanwhile in Nashville, Teddy was putting a voodoo hex on me with his glowing eyes and ultra scowly face. I received this photo while pulling into the hotel…(don’t let that face fool you. Mom said it sounded like a bowling alley when Ted and his two feline uncles were playing the nights away – he was having fun but just being a bitch about it!).

Hate eyes

Paybacks are HELL.

I quickly forgot about what a grouchy cat I’d be coming home to once I laid eyes on my home for the next few days.


Palm trees? Oceanside balconies? Can I stay indefinitely? PLEASE?!

Upon checking into the hotel, I wanted to see what beach rules I could break.

Which one applies to me...?

What? No moonshine?!

Regardless, I was overjoyed to be on vacation and accidentally got ‘happy’ in the hammock.

This is what a crasher looks like

Oh glorious vacay day!

And then on the way to dinner, I then gave my best Cameron Diaz impression from There’s Something About Mary.

There's something about....bad bangs

Ben Stiller bangs.

After a relatively early evening (the hammock cocktail party started way too early), I got up the next morning and did yoga on the beach. There was only one other person, so it was like a private session – score!

I could get used to this…

After the hour-long (exhausting because I was so dehydrated) yoga, I parked it poolside with a mimosa (because alcohol always helps rehydrate, right?).

So...think this could be the way I want to start every day. Mimosa in hand

Yoga and booze. The way every day should begin.

My home away from home proved to be more luxurious and relaxing than the mini manse I share with Ted.

This didn't suck

This didn’t suck.

As I walked the streets of Key West, I realized it should be my new place of residence.  Pink shutters….

Shutter me timbers

Shutter me timbers!

Kit cat mailboxes…(and yes, I was a creepy tourist almost on someone’s front porch. Trespassing, anyone?).

I'm destined for this mail box. I'm not the only cray cray cat lady!

I’m destined for this mail box.

And pink taxis…!

Taxi me..

I wanted to drive this cab back to Nashville to use as my personal vehicle.

After walking the streets of Key West for all of 1/2 mile, it was pool time once again.

134th Skinny Pirate of the vacay.

Walking makes me so thirsty.

While I was enjoying my 139th Skinny Pirate, I came up with a brilliant idea. All on accident…

Nice place to keep a straw when not drinking.  I should probably patton this idea

Hair makes a nice place to keep a straw when not drinking. I should probably patent this idea, don’t you think?

After all of the rum, I balanced out with a little (really, a truckload of) food. Lobster and corn on the cob (not as good as Iowa sweet corn but still good enough to eat like I’d just discovered a new delicatessen) happily kept me grounded (and the room from spinning).

The 32nd time I stuffed my face. Lobster and corn (not as good as Iowa sweet corn but still good enough to eat like I'd just discovered a new delicatessen).

The 26th time I stuffed my face.

Between mouthfuls of lobster and sips of Skinny Pirates, I commented on a fellow bar rat’s Tennessee hat.  Our conversation went as follows (with me doing most of the talking – surprise!):

“OMG! You’re from Iowa? Me too! You used to live in Des Moines?! Me too! You’re a Hawkeye fan wearing a Tennessee hat? Wait, you live in Nashville?! Me too!”  This man was so schnokered up, he would have told me he was my long, lost uncle and I would have believed him. Being blonde is hard work.

Iowans unite!

Iowans unite!

While perusing shops at midnight with an overloaded stomach, I saw this oh-so-perfect for me dish towel.  I wanted to break the glass window of the closed store to get it…hence the reason why I needed the damn towel!

Could this be any more perfect? I wanted to break the glass of the closed store to get it...hence the reason why I needed the damn towel!

Fitting, yes?

Keeping the make new friends tradition alive, I ran into a local Key West celeb (I only knew this after he was pointed out to me, therefore I felt the need to rush right over and become instant besties)- the mayor. So I did what all tourists do and got the camera out.

My new best friend. No I won't be your Deputy Mayor.

No, I won’t be your Deputy Mayor.

Ten hour days of cocktailing is exhausting work.  Below is what I require in order to marathon drink five days in a row…

Please follow the rules and shut the F up!

Please follow the rules and shut the F up!

While a little sad on the way back to Nashville, I snapped pics of the bridges once again. Only this time I was about 2.3 million brain cells short of completing a panoramic shot with my iPhone.

The wizardry of my photo genius. I somehow missed half of the car. Yes, you can hire me but it's going to cost you.

The wizardry of my photo genius. I somehow missed half of the car. Yes, you can hire me but it’s going to cost you.

So was Mr. Bear happy to see my tanned, relaxed face?  I think all of you cat owners know the answer.

He's seriously rolling his eyes.  Seriously.

He’s seriously rolling his eyes. Seriously.

Forced snuggling usually does the trick…

Force snuggle always works.

Not light as a feather but as stiff as a board.

And when snuggling doesn’t work, I use the mauling tactic.

Like he hates being mauled.

Ted loves to hate this.

You can imagine my happiness when I stepped into a nice pile of “F-you Mom” regurgitated cat food yesterday morning. And now I can rest easy, knowing I was missed.