Lucky Charm

Cinderella once sang “you don’t know what you got till it’s gone.”

I’m talking about the hair metal 80s band, not the princess of course.

I think we all can relate to the sentiment in one way or another. However, when it comes to peeps in my life that I love, you’re either in or out. One quality that I gratefully possess is I am never regretful of time spent with folks that I hold in my heart, nor do I take time with them for granted. That’s why for me, when you love the fuck out of someone and they no longer roam the earth, it can be a heart yanking time when their milestones still appear annually.

Aunt Crazy Pants celebrated her first birthday above on February 23, and in honor of this occasion, Mama CBXB came to Nashville and we par-tayed the only we way our family ever does. Trashtacularly.

On ACP’s actual day of birth, we took her to get her cocktail of choice, gin rickeys, at my fave local watering hole, Dalts.

A hungover day later, we went to get permanent tributes of the lady whose favorite color was green, loved shamrocks and owned one of the most unique signatures ever, which is what we were going to have tattooed on our wrists. I gussied up in my green heels I fashioned at the celebration of ACP’s life, perfected my mani to match and we were ready to go.

Naked and afraid.

While mother/daughter bonding over tattoos may seem odd to you, it’s sort of a family tradition in my clan (which should shock no one hence Jell-O shots with Gma at Christmas and Iowa Hawkeye moonshine touchdown shots are also custom family practices, well shared on this blog).

In summers of yesteryear, our families would spend Fourth of Julys at the Lake of the Ozarks. Which entailed not only in boating and booze but often tattoos and belly button piercings. Yes, yes, you read that right. I even think we made each new girlfriend of our dude cousins get belly button rings on their first Fourth with us. (A dream come true family that acts like a fraternity right here folks).

I was with ACP when she got her first ink from none other than the not even close to being world famous Tattoo Ted in the Ozarks.

We may have had one or eight drinks with sun poisoning but what did it matter?

With our history of classiness, we brought ACP along with us in spirit as Mama CBXB and I rolled into the Rebel Yell Tattoo and Social Club that came highly recommended.

When we traipsed through the doors, I’m fairly certain all four folks in the shop on a bright and sunny Saturday afternoon were well aware that this wasn’t a past time in which we often partook. Especially when I wondered aloud with Justin, our extremely patient artist, how a tattoo on my wrist would look when I do jazz hands. Because I use them a lot. Like, we seriously had a five-minute conversation about it, he put a stencil on my wrist with ACP’s name facing me and let me look in a mirror before I decided how I wanted the fucking three-inch artwork done.

I mean you guys. Obvies we use them.


Maybe our novice was a dead giveaway when I asked my mom 400 times in the seven minutes it took Justin to tattoo her wrist if she was going to cry when it was over (she did – Tearfest 2018).

My defense mechanism against physical pain is apparently laughing because it’s all I did the entire time my four-minute ink was being perfected. Justin kept stopping to ask if I was OK and all I could do was giggle in the most unquiet way possible.

All in all, mission accomplished.

Shortest time frame yet most annoying tattoo subject ever to grace Rebel Yell.

Getting any type of tattoo makes one a bad ass motherfucker, right?

I mean, look at my recovery plastic.

So what did these bad ass mother fuckers do? Celebrated with cocktails of course!

And it just so happened that two of ACP’s grandgirls came through Nashville that night, so we all cheersed our hearts out to the lady we love and miss.

Bittersweet without sharing the experience with ACP, there’s something ultra comforting to know she’s right here on my wrist. There have been some dark days for me recently, and I’ve found myself flipping my wrist over, admiring her signature, reminiscing on conversations, knowledge, 1,573,982,400 laughs and love we shared over her lifetime.

What I come to think of most is right after Rapegate, ACP was one of the first phone calls I received as the news made its way through my family. Her first words were, “you’re already one helluva strong lady – but you’ll be the strongest woman you know now.” The same words rang true when we found out she had terminal cancer six months later – and I repeated her words of wisdom back to her.

While cancer can go fuck itself, I’m comforted by the fact that I knew what I had with ACP before she was gone. Which is why her absence is ever present, more so now that I’m a bad ass mother fucker with a fancy signature on my wrist.

Know what you’ve got before it’s gone.

Now who wants to go get tattoo sleeves with me?

It could be the experience of your lifetime.


Griswold Family Style Fourth of July

Driving a boat at Lake of the Ozarks…

Party Chick

…is a party girl from Tennessee.

Party Girl

As cousins gather every Fourth…


…to be with family

The Griswolds

From Jell-O shots…


…with whipped cream.

Whipped Cream

Constant fights over the mic…

Mic Fight

to sing karaoke.

Karoake King

Trivial Pursuit winners, always reign supreme!


From new tattoos…


…to pool dunks…


…with drunken dancers around a hunk.


Our favorite toy is the aqua bar…

Aqua Bar

…that prevents us from floating too far.


 I’m proud to be from my family!


Where at least I can be me.


And they never, ever let me forget

Just how handy my booty can be.


Cousins blowing their muscles up…

Blow Hards

…next to me


so I won’t cry and feel left out.

Cry Baby

There ain’t no doubt I love my clan –


Thank God for my family!


Here’s hoping your version of the Griswolds has a safe and booze filled 4th.





Weekend Winks

Alcohol, tattoos and Kid Rock can always turn things around, right?

Does this Jim Beam tattoo make me look like an alchoholic?

Does this Jim Beam tattoo add to my full on classiness?

I was pretty sure my weekend was in the pisser with a flat tire, a nasty cold and a forgotten concert outfit at home Friday morning.

Weekend off to a flat start

Off to a flat start…

But fabulous friends whiplashed me back into my maniacal state about my hot date with Kid Rock and his 15,000 closest Nashville fans.

All aboard for the Kid Train!

All aboard for the Kid train!

Pumped about my 10th (yes 10th!) row seats, I had to run in and check them out in between Jim Beam cocktails.

A perfect 10

A perfect 10.

But how in the world was I going to be the apple of Kid Rock’s eye? By inking myself up, of course.


Is this going to hurt?


Somebody hold my hand, damn it!

Did I mention that this was a henna tattoo?

Totally classy

All fun and no permanency for this commitment phobe.

But I did feel like quite the bad ass with my kickin’ eagle tattoo.


After all of my classy arm primping, I still didn’t catch Mr. Rock’s attention.


Hello! Over here with the arm tat!

But I scored something even better than a glimpse from Kid … maneuvering up to the front row…..!


Holy Shit!

Where I proceeded to lose my f’ing mind, driver’s license and check card (come to find out as I was trying to get into a bar after the show – but don’t worry a nice doorman let me in to party even though I don’t look a day over 20) as I raised the roof (like the whitest chick in the world) with my favorite rocker.

I pledge allegiance to the kid

I pledge allegiance to The Kid.

As usual, Teddy sensed my pain on Saturday and selfishly insisted I spend the rest of the weekend with him.

Feeling my pain

Feeling my discomfort. Smart cat.

After a bag full of favorite food from my own personal Cheers (it’s heaven – they deliver!), Ted and I mustered enough energy to sit up on the couch.

thanks you

My stomach rejoiced in grease.

Even though our necks still hurt from headbanging…

Rocked out...

Rocked out.

And while I still require a hand on my chin to alleviate my sore neck, I’m tattoo free and fully re-hydrated today.

Until next weekend…