First Round Draft Pick

The NFL Draft has arrived in Nashville and everyone is losing their goddamn minds.

Now, not everyone is losing their minds because they love the sport of America football or the NFL or just the hype of a fucking gigantic event being hosted in downtown Music City. Nashvillians are losing their goddamn minds over the influx of traffic, the take over of production companies downtown (causing you to watch every step you take due to massive cords), road closures everywhere, the cutting down of trees for draft stages, tourists in general, NFL draft tourists – need I say more?

I lose my fucking mind over this guy, T-Rac, every time.

On top of the NFL Draft commencing today, the Country Music Marathon is this weekend which in and of itself always draws tens of thousands more to the downtown area. All said, it’s projected that 300,000+ peeps will be overtaking my city. The past few weeks I declared no one could beg me to go near the downtown radius the entire week all of these shenanigans are taking place (unless, of course they had a front row seat to the first round of the draft).

Oh, hi! Who me? Miss out on fun? Never.

The preparation for this major event has included Nashville’s Hard Rock Cafe taking their iconic guitar sign down (you know, gets in the way of a good TV shot), entire bars are being rented by the NFL organization, and temporary rooftop viewing areas are being put on top of restaurants – it’s fucking bananas.

Missing: One massive neon guitar sign.

Years, months, weeks, days and now the final hours until the culmination of the NFL Draft 2019 begin to unfold.

Staging of the stage.

Side stage complete.

Naturally being the football fan I am, I certainly thought I was going to attend the draft when I heard it was going to be in Nashville and –  key word – free. Also, two Hawkeye tight ends are slated to be picked during the first round, Noah Fant and T.J. Hockensen. They will attempt to make 2019 the third Iowa draft class to ever feature more than one first-rounder, after the classes of 1997 and 1986. Would I Iove to take Dada CBXB (he was drafted by the Colts when they were in Baltimore after his college career, FYI) and see that happen in person? You bet your ass I would.

From a Red Raider to a Colt.

However, there is a lottery to get into the viewing area of the draft stage. Yes, there are mega huge TVs all over the city streets but in lieu of standing with other fans asses to elbows, I can sit ass to elbow with any and all members of The Pussy Posse. And, I don’t have to worry about standing en masse to get into one of these germy portable toilets that will surely run out of toilet paper within the first minutes of the event commencing.

Talk about crazy town.

When my gal pal Energizer Bunny asked if I wanted to go with her bestie Dance Pants for a last minute trip downtown, I had to think about it for .0000000000002 seconds (hypocrite at my finest).

EB: “Want to go-“
Me: “–YAS!”

Entrance to the NFL Draft experience on Broadway.

The aforementioned bars being converted into additional TV spots was equally impressive. Tootsies World Famous Orchid Lounge grew about 50 extra feet, which will be a secondary broadcast location for the event.

Finishing touches.

Stages here.

Stages there.

Stages everywhere.

Typically the downtown Nashville shopping scene is full of nothing but honky tonk trinkets. But every single store we passed had NFL team merchandise displays and every bar we passed had an NFL Draft 2019 neon light in its window.

No team left out.

Let’s not forget the people watching….

Bang This x 2.

People watch we did.

At one point as women who were wearing shorts shorter than bikini bottoms galloped by our bar window, Dance Pants said, “those gals are going to get a bad infection.” I immediately vowed to never sit on a bar stool without first wiping it down with an antibiotic wipe.

Regardless of whether you are watching the NFL Draft 2019 near, far or not at all, Nashville is definitely where it’s at this weekend.

The Bat Building is always a beaut.

Happy to have the projected 342,700 of you visit Music City this weekend. Just don’t forget to be one of the 30,000 departing people from the airport on Sunday or Monday.

Also, for those of you in motor vehicles, please kindly leave early (or late) enough so I can make it to work on time this upcoming Monday.

Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Because if you decide to stay, I will punt your ass out.

Cheers!
CBXB

 

Weekend Winks – Best Day of My Life…and Then Some

Due to the current football season underway, we were encouraged to decorate our work spaces with items showing off our #1 team last week. Per usual, I went with subtlety.

Just me, over here in my Hawkeye sequins jersey.

Overboard much?

I hate the Iowa Hawkeyes, obvies.

On Friday, we had a pot luck BBQ and there were raffle prizes to be distributed. When it was said that we were having a few “special guests” help draw the raffle names, my interest was beyond piqued. Then, in skipped two Tennessee Titans cheerleaders, which was pretty cool. As they were getting ready to draw the first prize, it was announced that there was one more special guest. My stomach dropped. I was thinking please don’t be the new head coach Mike Vrabel, please don’t let it be the quarterback Marcus Mariota, but pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease let it be my T-Rac. The official mascot of the Tennessee Titans.

See, I have a thing for mascots. You know, those fur coated creatures that accompany my fave sports teams. It sure as shit was my lucky day.

In waltzed T-Rac. My face went red, I screamed like a girl seeing The Beatles on the 1964 Ed fucking Sullivan show, and about broke my metal folding chair pumping up and down on my plump rump. With my heart racing, the cheerleaders started drawing names for raffle winners. T-Rac was the one distributing the awards and I had to get my hands on him. The final prize of the day – a $100 gift card and commemorative Titans glass was on the line. The blonde beauty drew that last ticket and….said MY NAME.

I reacted with real class.

I jumped like a fat rabbit up to get my prize while giddily giggle screaming the entire way.

HUG ME ALREADY.

In the span of 25 seconds, I managed to make a gigantic ass hat of myself in front of my entire office. I also managed to not only maul T-Rac but told him that I loved him AND announced that this was the best day of my life. It wasn’t even noon on a Friday yet.

 

Afterward, the gentlemanly raccoon and his cheering sidekicks stayed to graciously take pics with the peeps.

Four’s a crowd.

I demanded asked the hot mammas to please move over and allow me a solo photo with my main plush squeeze.

Move over bitches. He’s all mine.

On top of being in the arms of a giant stuffed animal, my life was absolutely complete when I made my debut on T-Rac’s social media page as the inaugural “Fan of the day”.  Of course I turned right around and added it to my Instagram.

Stand by for our “Save the Date” wedding invites.

How could this day get any more exciting?

An email went out announcing free cans of wine in the breakroom. I had to steady myself as I sprinted down the hallway to hoard the loot.

Mine all mine – now safely in my fridge and damn good.

My adrenaline was pumping pretty high, so I was excited I had plans to celebrate one of my nearest and dearest gal pal’s birthday after work.

Birthday girl sandwich.

I could hardly go to sleep since I had such a positive karma filled day. Luckily, Ruby Sue was wide-eyed with me.

Too excited to sleep.

With it being a balmy 90 degrees on Saturday, I hauled ass to the pool, trying to make summer last.

Saturday sun soak.

While I was hoping Saturday wasn’t the last hurrah in the sun, my Iowa twins were up and at ’em with a clever activity. They put coins in pans to freeze overnight.

Different version of Frozen.

They had to break the ice open, count the coins and exchange them for dollar bills from their parents.

Big money for Prince B.

Princess B headed straight to the Dollar Tree.

Saturday night my Hawkeyes played and I headed out to Dada CBXB’s to get the tailgate going.

Who doesn’t love boxed wine and wings?

Positions assumed.

The kitty didn’t stay cozy for long, as Iowa scored five touchdowns. You know what that means…

Five Family Tradition winning shots, baby.

Easily soaked up the next morning by my omelette making father.

What shots?

Being back in the maniac celebrate-everything-for-fun-life mode again, I started decorating for Halloween all day Sunday. My fabulous Fabio could have given two shits about my hard work, turning the mini manse into a haunted fortress.

As I was going back and forth to fetch my Halloween bins from my car, it was raining lightly. When I looked up in the sky, there was a full on rainbow. I seriously considered getting in my rust bucket and searching for the end, hoping for a pot of gold.

For like, a full five minutes.

I mean, I had fab karma going on.

Instead of looking for lost treasure, I plopped down in my tub for a soak and a People magazine read (side note – I get Meghan Markle is now a princess from America and all but if I wanted to read about the Royals every week, I’d move to fucking England).

Then it was time for a snuggle down on the leopard couch with my new fall scented candles.

No better way to wind down after an exhaustingly excitement filled 48 hours. Amiright?

Here’s hoping your mascot equivalent finds you this week.

Cheers!

CBXB

Weekend Winks – Titans Style

A Nashville weekend for CBXB complete with a little kit cat time, preseason NFL football and a whole lotta lazy in the sun.

The number of cups equals the amount of fun had at a Titans game, FYI.

Friday called for a little relaxation out on the patio of my mini manse.

Fridays taste so good!

I was trying to unwind under my bright lights that annoy the piss out of my neighbors (someone had to be the Clark Griswold of the neighborhood!) but the incessant whining from some little furball inside made it impossible for me to concentrate on reading my People magazine and chug my Skinny Pirate. So I let the little whine calf out.

Who wouldn’t wanna party here?

And I immediately regretted my decision as Teddy sprinted to the end of the deck, dramatically putting the front half of his body out over the ledge and meowed (what he surely thought sounded like a lion’s roar, but sounded like a sick goat) to announce his presence to no one. I thought, “Great. My family is going to have a heyday with this story when the apartment complex calls telling my folks that I broke my neck jumping off my second story deck to save my cat, Mr. Bear – who would of course walk away unscathed.” So instead of freaking the F out and yelling at him, I casually pulled him in and yelled “NO!” once he was back on all fours of the appropriate side of the deck.

You go, I go you little shit.

Once every nook and cranny was checked out, it was time for tricks.

Acrobatic show off.

And while practicing his balance, TB acted as if he was doomed to be on the porch forever,  trying to claw at the window screen.

Outside looking in.

Once again yelling “NO!” (you see how scared Ted is of me?), he tight roped down the chair and settled in for a nice, long cat nap.

F You!

Four minutes of curiosity makes a feline tired.

Worn out after the circus tricks of the prior evening, I hauled my lazy ass up to the pool on Saturday. Where I continued to be lazy. All. Day. Long.

All I was missing was a tan.

A spontaneous invitation to go to the Tennessee Titans game produced all kinds of fun with my First Mate and her hubs. Although, as I was rushing to get ready, she reminded me that you can’t take a purse bigger than your palm in to the stadiums anymore. WTF?! Where am I supposed to put my sunglasses? My bootlegged liquor? My lip gloss? My ticket won’t even fit into my purse without having to be folded! The horror!

Teeny tiny purses didn’t deter from fun.

I was still able to mix cocktails in the bathroom bar by smuggling in my spirits.

Can’t stop this classy girl!

Although, we were forced to be assholes wearing our sunglasses at night because we had nowhere to put them.

Yeah, we know we’re cool.

While we started out with our vodka and beer, First Mate and I HAD to have a glass of wine once we saw the container it came in.

Reusable AND it has a lid!

Cupholderific!

The mixing of liquor, beer and wine gave us a really good idea for a blog post. I’m going to try out to be a Titans cheerleader next year and First Mate will document my uncoordinated experience. You’re welcome in advance and I am not eating solid food until after tryouts next April (but I refuse to give up my Skinny Pirates).

All I need to make the cut is fake boobs, three more inches added to my legs and the ability to make it through a cheer without giggling. I got this.

Parched as we were, a stop at our fave bar Dalts was required before calling it quits on a fun Saturday night. Can’t you tell Hubs was just having the time of his life?

Leaning tower of blondes.

With the best of intentions of going to hot yoga on Sunday, I decided to sweat out the shenanigans of Saturday night by holding a day long savasana pose by the pool.

Perfect end to the weekend…while gaining a teeny tiny tan.

While I sat on my soon-to-be-a-Titans-cheerleader-dreams-dashed-hopeful-ass by the pool, I also studied pics of my niece and nephew practicing their favorite poses.

Happy Baby.

Plank.

Not only do they look cuter doing yoga than I do, it seems as if they have better form too. Show-offs!

Here’s a big cheers to a great week!

CBXB

Captain Lights Up My Life

I love Captain Morgan and Diet Coke, aka “Skinny Pirates.”

Like love too much love.

Drink like water love.

Get the picture?

Named many years ago by my cousin Tballs (and long before the recent besiege of ‘skinny’ cocktails – we could have been millionaires – FUCK!), this spicy spirit has been by my side like a true Captain steering a ship.  I can always count on its comforts, whether I’m coving out in the Lake of the Ozarks, tailgating at a Titans game or feeling sorry for myself in the depths of my so-called despair, wearing prescription sunglasses inside my apartment, smoking cigarettes out the sliding glass door, wearing only candy cane underwear in August (don’t judge). What I’m trying to convey is my love for this rum.  And before you start sending me contact information on certain meetings, I will remind you that the liver is a self-regenerating organ and I could never abandon my Skinny Pirates after all they’ve done for me.

Lighting up my happy hours!

Cheers!

CBXB