Weekend Winks – The Badass is Back

Saying last week was hard is and will always be an understatement when it’s Rapegateversary time. The days moved so slowly, it feels like it should be October by now instead of February 3rd. Sharing my experience helps me in what I still grapple with from being raped and also, offers my support to whomever may need it. Speaking of support, you showed up for me in droves and that means everything.

Just a small sample of you making it easier for me…

Just so you know, showing up for someone who needs it is beyond explicable. A kind comment on social media. A text. A check-in. A fucking hilariously inappropriate gif. I think sometimes people don’t reach out to others when they know it’s a hard time because they don’t know what to say and I just want to remind you that you don’t really have to say anything. A heart emoji does the trick.

Thanks for keeping me badass.

While I was busy with my International Day of the Badass, my two kick ass twins were celebrating their 100th day of school.

Princess B treated it like a party day.

Prince B couldn’t be bothered to look away from his Bad Guy book.

In this family, we may have our Touchdown Shot tradition but there are a few others that have remained alive and kickin’ – one of those being homemade donuts. When I saw what Princess B was baking I almost got in my rust bucket of a vehicle for the nine hour trip to indulge.

Donut delight.

There’s never, ever, ever, ever a dull moment regarding the twins. In between bike rides and hot tub splashing this weekend, they started their Valentine day celebrations as soon as February commenced.

Spreading the love.

Speaking of celebrating, I could not, for the life of me, decide whether or not to keep my pink tree up all year long again. Being that my pussies can’t answer with words, I turned to the ever scientific Instagram poll for assistance in decision making.

Enticing the decision, I displayed my prior celebration trees.

Digging around my phone for those pics basically translated to me wanting to keep the goddamn tree up in the first place. And my Instagram peeps agreed.

Landslide celebration.

Instead of immediately throwing Valentine’s decor on the pink corner of merriment, I went to celebrate the outcome with First Mate.

We sea more wine in our future.

Always stocked full of wine, First Mate has been collecting bottles and boxes from Trader Joe’s, where the price points make it beyond easy to try different vinos. I think the total of the featured wines below is a whopping $35.

So many options (and we’re cheating on Bota Box).

The thing with fancy gals like us typically drinking wine from a box is that we sometimes forget what tools properly open a bottle of wine. I can tell you this – it’s not a can opener.

Blonde is hard.

After First Mate’s failed attempt with uncorking a bottle with a can opener, we decided to fill our pie holes with pizza. Because she lives in a newer area, deliveries are sometimes difficult. Thankfully, not only can First Mate dismantle a bomb from her time in the military, fly a plane and be a boss bitch at work, she can also traffic direct (even though she can’t open a bottle of wine with a can opener).

Very important delivery instructions.

I knew better than to leave my pristine white sweatshirt on while stuffing my face dining like a classy lady and managed to get pizza sauce on the bottom of my arm. I have many talents. Sloppy eating is one of them.

With a full belly and a good night’s sleep, Saturday started with an overhaul of the Mini Manse living room. Rocky and Scooch were primed and ready to assist.

Before Rapegate, the pride I had in my own personal appearance, along with my Mini Manse was skyscraper high on my list. However, PTSD and depression have a way of sucking every last motherfucking bit of energy out of you and everything once prideful to me was thrown to the wayside. In finding a new rug for the living room, a spark was ignited that isn’t going to be extinguished anytime soon. I spent 14 hours touching all items scattered about, dusting, Windexing, vaccuming, moving furniture, building a cat scratch tree (OK, I just had to screw some things in but still), getting all photos and sparkles in just the right places.

Pussy approved.

This is a significant sign in my recovery process because it’s me acting like me again. I’m super fucking pumped that this bitch is back to being badass in almost all areas of my life again.

Also badass? My Iowa Hawkeye football players who now play in the NFL making appearances at this year’s Super Bowl. George Kittle and CJ Beathard on the 49ers and Ben Niemann and Anthony Hitchens on the Chiefs team. Either way the game went for me, it was a win.

The pussies could have given two shits.

Super no thanks on that bowl.

But Dada CBXB and I were sure to have one last tailgate of this football season.

Cheers to our final football watch until fall.

With my badass outlook back, I’m starting to see life through my fuschia colored glasses again.

Forever thankful to you for the assist.

Cheers!

CBXB

 

 

Weekend Winks – Feelings of Funk

I have been in the worst mood the past few weeks. Nothing self inflicted – mostly my reaction to first world problems kind of bad mood. I haven’t been able to shake it the fuck off (where is Taylor Swift when I need her?!) and it’s been an emotional and mentally exhausting time. The kind that sucks the joy from your bones.

Anyone else been stuck in a foul funk?

All the feels.

Luckily for me, aside from implementing the coping skills gained from therapy, my fur babies just know when mama needs extra TLC.

Prissy leading the snuggle pack.

I can never stop gazing at her purrfectly imperfect underbite. It’s the fucking cutest thing to me.

No need for canine braces.

My middle boy, Fabs, is the pussy most attached to my side by demanding attention, head rubs, head butts and figure eighting between my legs in horrible attempts to trip his already klutzy as fuck mother. But damn do I love the companionship (and let’s be honest, constant attention).

As for my twins, Rocky and Ruby Sue (aka Thundercunt), they may as well be attached at the hip. At night, this is their exact position, only I’m in the middle.

The snuggle is real.

Coming home and being surrounded by The Pussy Posse is a tremendous aid in the day-to-day bad mood struggle. You know what else helps? Weekends. And booze.

First Mate has been busy running around the world traveling for her new job, so we needed a catch up on a fabulously fall weathered Friday.

My kind of happy hour.

What the fuck would we do without our friends?

Hawk chomp.

College football is also another sanity sidekick I eagerly anticipate every Saturday. My Iowa Hawkeyes lost two of the last three games, so there was some extra added bubbles into the mix, as our family tradition shots have been shockingly sobering the last two weeks.

Champs. The only thing fun about an 11am kickoff.

Still touchdownless during the first half against Purdue, we overindulged in all the tailgating snacks.

Snack attack ingredients combined.

Then FINALLY, Iowa scored two touchdowns, double shots went town smoothly and our livers were back up and running.

Two touchdowns and a WIN!

While I was celebrating Saturday away, my two little monsters in Iowa were busy prepping for Halloween.

Cutest pumpkins on the planet.

I’m not exactly sure what was in this concoction, or which witch is gonna consume but brewing took place outside of their palace.

Witches brew, anyone?

Princess B has become quite the “baker” as she learned how to deep fry an Oreo.

Chef BoyarePrincessBee

She hated it.

The grocery chain Trader Joe’s is one I have never stepped foot in, mostly because it’s in the middle of a highly congested area of Nashville (and we all know how I feel about the fucking traffic here nowadays). A new store opened in my neck of the woods, so I decided to make my way in for their CBXB priced wine I’m always hearing about.

Trader Me Happy!

I got a cart (buggy if you’re from below the Mason-Dixon Line) and soon remembered why I don’t go to grocery stores on Sunday. Especially stupid since this Trader Joe’s had its grand opening this week.

Superfuckingmarket Sweeps.

There is no way the store wasn’t at its capacity, as every aisle I tried to venture down was asses to elbows to shopping carts nipping at my fucking ankles. Therefore, I just stayed in the wine aisle and gazed lovingly at the gigantic assortment offered.

Still worth the pennies on the vino I paid.

After the shitshow of Trader Joe’s, I went to my mothership, Target and ran into First Mate. Obvies it’s obvies why we’re besties. Afterward, we headed to Dalts for our new favorite Sunday cocktail, the poinsettia (champs with cranberry juice).

Watering hole.

After settling back into the Mini Manse, I practiced my Sunday selfcare for two hours (yes, I have to drain the tub and add more hot water but soooooo worth it).

As for the funky feelings, they are still lurking around the corners of my mind but what can’t be cured by pumpkins and wine?

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!