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.

All.the.time.

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.

CBXB

Family Traditions of Christmas Past

How different would Christmas be if I wasn’t surrounded by family?

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Opening packages would be such a bore,

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If I wasn’t encircled by cousins galore.

Christmas chaos.

A lonely gal Christmas sock affair,

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Instead of hanging stockings by the chimney with double the care.

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All dressed up with nowhere to go,

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Instead of trying to be one of the stars of the show.

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Christmas pageants with one can be so annoying,

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But with two, the show is much more enjoying.

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Lonely lonely would Christmas celebrating be,

Without the decades of fun with family.

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From past to present with futures near,

Hold those who are dear with your heart full of cheer because you never know when they may not be here…

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Cheers to keeping the memories, traditions and spirits of Christmases past alive and kickin’.

CBXB

CBXB!

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…

Cousins

…to be with family

The Griswolds

From Jell-O shots…

Jell-O

…with whipped cream.

Whipped Cream

Constant fights over the mic…

Mic Fight

to sing karaoke.

Karoake King

Trivial Pursuit winners, always reign supreme!

Winners!

From new tattoos…

Tattoo

…to pool dunks…

Dunk

…with drunken dancers around a hunk.

Hunk

Our favorite toy is the aqua bar…

Aqua Bar

…that prevents us from floating too far.

Floater

 I’m proud to be from my family!

Family

Where at least I can be me.

Beerpoo

And they never, ever let me forget

Just how handy my booty can be.

Handy

Cousins blowing their muscles up…

Blow Hards

…next to me

Muscles

so I won’t cry and feel left out.

Cry Baby

There ain’t no doubt I love my clan –

Clan

Thank God for my family!

Fam

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

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – Friends, Football and Bad Asses

Is there any better feeling when the clock strikes 5pm on Friday and happy hour is screaming your name?

Hands up it's the weekend!

Hands up it’s the weekend!

My Iowa twins kicked off their Friday cozying up by water slides at the swim park in between mouthfuls of chips and salsa.

Cozying up at the swim park.

Cute kisses.

Meanwhile I cozyied up to a gal pal that blew in from the Windy City for a short trip.

Happy

So happy to see her, I couldn’t stop staring at her face. #awkward

This past Saturday was a bigger deal than the rest in regard to our Iowa Hawkeye tailgates, as it was homecoming weekend and my squad prepped for the Fighting Illini of Illinois.

Silly Illinois on our homecoming

Appropriate University of Iowa endorsed game hashtag: #ILLannoying

My very own self appointed Homecoming King helpfully added cat hair to all elements of the decor.

Tailgater is ready to go.

Tailgating Ted.

Due to another early ass 11am kick-off, we opted for a brunch spread of egg and sausage tacos, bacon and french toast.

Breakfast bonanza

Breakfast bonanza!

Dada CBXB and I knew we needed some sort of foundation due to the possibility we’d be taking a moonshine shot before noon (which we did).

Two baby

Touchdown #2 after noon, thankfully.

Three!

Number three solidifies a homecoming victory!

For good measure, we had to do a victory shot as well because our Hawkeyes have a 6-0 record for the first time since 2009 (and are now ranked #17 thank you very much).

So excited

Feelin’ fine!

Busy keeping our livers in check down in Tennessee, the Iowa twins were visiting their first winery (we start them young) Saturday afternoon.

Vine time.

Taking vine time extremely seriously.

While the twins were learning the wonders of grapes turning into wine, Jdub and myself were on the way to see my boyfriend, best friend, party buddy favorite performer, Kid Rock at the Woods Amphitheater just outside of Nashville.

Fighting over the perfect man.

Fighting over the perfect man upon entrance.

Being that we’re two fairly basic bitches, we needed something to ump up our redneck ante. Thankfully the merch table took care of our accessory needs, announcing to the world what we already knew…

Immediate red neck wannabees.

Yep. We know. Total American badasses.

We can't help but be classy.

With the help of hats we became an immediate redneck duo.

We had no problems looking like white trash, gallivanting around the lawn seats, trying not to spill booze on everyone. It was especially hard not to look like complete and total assholes when we discovered that our tickets were not simply general admission….we had assigned seats.

HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!

HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!!

My luck didn’t stop there. Kid Rock wore pink just for me. Just for me (and probably not because it’s breast cancer awareness month. Whatever).

Pretty in pink.

Pretty in pink.

He was so purty, I had to adjust my sunglasses I wore at night (because yes, I am that fucking cool).

Killing time after the show, we called everyone in our phone books. Sorry not sorry for the late night calls, endless voicemails, photos and texts sent to our close (and not so close) friends. We just wanted to tell everyone about our Saturday night.

We had zero fun.

Obvies.

Here’s hoping you’re your own American badass this week.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Snoozin’ and Boozin’

There’s really never a dull moment in Nashville, unless you want there to be one (but what fun is that?!) so the weekend kicked off in full force at an NHL game where I met my hockey soul mate, Bob.

Me and my Predator's squeeze...Bob.

Bob the fan referee and his classy new sidekick who swiped his fedora.

Speaking of classy, aren’t the chicks who continuously take selfies in the stands beyond annoying?

Water is awesome.

We know.

I am a gigantic fan of snail mail – and an even bigger fan when a package is sent my way. Especially when it involves Christmas AND my Iowa Hawkeyes. So I was beyond excited to rip open this gift from my sister upon my return from the ice rink.

Score!

Gifts just because make my world go round.

A little box of heaven.

SCORE!

While we’re on the subject of Iowa, you know I think my twins are the shit (well, because they just are) but not simply because they’re related to me (let’s be real – how lucky can they be?). My heart tends to burst with pride purely calling them my niece and nephew but when they seem to follow in Auntie CBXB’s footsteps – well, that almost makes my head pop off.

Just a model

While Prince B mugs it up for the camera…

Hey-oh!

…Princess B knows the exact timing for a perfect photo bomb.

Skills run in the fam.

The mad skills run in the family. Obviously.

It wouldn’t be a fall weekend without a whole lotta college football fun and my mini manse was geared up and ready to go for some Iowa Hawkeye domination on Saturday.

Tailgate time!

Tailgate time!

Being that Iowa has been a severely mediocre team at best the past five seasons, to keep the games interesting Dada CBXB and I instilled the fine family tradition of doing a shot of moonshine after each Hawkeye touchdown a few years ago.

Little did we ever assume, believe, know that our fellas in black and gold would ever score more than four touchdowns in a single game…

Shot #1

Shot #1

Shot #2

Shot #2

Shot #3

Shot #3

Shot #4

Shot #4

Somewhere in between touchdown six and seven, we lost count…

Winning is exhausting.

Winning is exhausting.

But not really!

But not really!

You’d think a final victorious score of 62-16 would impress anyone but of course my pissy pussy Ted could have given two shits.

Annoyed

Who gives a flying fuck about football? Rub my belly bitch.

I’m pretty sure the evil eye bracelet my buddy brought back to me from Greece had something to do with my spectacular weekend full of shenanigans.

I'm never taking this off.

I’m never taking this off.

Evil juju be damned!

CBXB

CBXB!