Weekend Winks – Sorry Not Sorry

I’m having some major holidayitis. It’s all I can do at work to stay focused because my head is in North Pole clouds. So I’ve been passing my time during my eight hour day like a cotton-headed ninny muggin.

Making good use of work centerpieces.

As soon as I arrived home to the Mini Manse on Friday night, I poured a hefty glass of vino while I planted my ass on my leopard throne. When it was time for me to break my seal, I came back from the bathroom to find an atrocity created by a curious canine.

The HORROR.

While red wine was soaking like quicksand into my beloved custom couch (first and last big girl purchase since college), I not-so-silently freaked out. I glanced at the other end of the sofa and found the culprit just wallowing in her guilt.

Sorry not sorry.

I quickly ran to my new best friend (since The Pussy Posse has reached numbers of a zoo and due to my overall daily klutziness), Resolve carpet cleaner. This shit works miracles but I wasn’t sure if it would be enough for red wine on a spotted couch.

Couch (and Prissy life) saver.

Turns out, the Resolve performed an early Christmas miracle.

What wine?

Prissy felt so badly, she pretended as if nothing happened. I didn’t cry tears over the spilled wine but I did have some choice words for the pom.

The nerve of this bitch.

Saturday was an early tailgate for Dada CBXB and me with our Iowa Hawkeyes kicking off at 11am. We downed our first touchdown shot before noon.

Who doesn’t shoot shots before noon?

Iowa went on to be victorious due to field goals, so our family tradition was one and done for the day but I was able to eek out a bit more for Saturday fuel.

Dada CBXB loaded several of my Christmas bins in his sleigh for Saturday delivery (full disclosure: not all of them would fit into his vehicle, so the rest are coming in next weekend). The Mini Manse currently looks like Christmas got drunk and threw up all over but at least I’m making Santa proud.

Christmas cray cray.

I wasn’t alone in my holiday excitement. The twins have gained the love of all things decorating from Sister CBXB and started trimming one of their trees.

After elfing and unloading bins, I sat down for a quick rest that turned into a full-on pussy mauling. Which translates into “I couldn’t move for three hours because cats were all over me.”

Thundercunt snuggle.

I moved when she moved.

Fabio, Ruby Sue (TC) and not pictured: Rocky and Scooch.

Sweet Princess Elsa Pants of the Mini Manse perched on the highest place possible, just out of reach. She’s my socially anxious pussy that is finally realizing the luckiness of her life with this crazy cat lady.

Finally settling in…after three years.

Beyond excited to watch Saturday Night Live, which was hosted by Will Ferrell, I pissed my pants (again) when Maya Rudolph reprised her role as Kamala Harris. In a previous SNL skit, she declared herself “America’s Fun Aunt” which she shortens to F.U.N.T. She then went on to say she was also “America’s Cool Aunt” and stopped short when she started to say C.U.N…–. I died. You can watch the skit here.

While I was busy wearing my rewind button out, pissing my pants over a F.U.N.T. the twins were prepping for their upcoming viewing of Frozen 2.

Prince B decked out in one of a kind bling crafted himself.

Princess B not only handcrafted herself Frozen-themed necklaces, but her mama also created a hair-do in which Princess Elsa herself would envy.

Beyond jealous of the hair.

Sunday really was a fun day for me. I meandered out to get groceries at 10am and ended up hitting two TJ Maxx stores (my second mothership to Target), Burlington Coat Factory, Marshalls, Kirklands and my fave liquor store, Reds. I didn’t mean to but it was fun just gazing at all of the holiday decor. I’m pretty sure I lost all sense of smell from the 1,843,023 candles I had to fucking sniff. I stumbled on a fun delight at Reds – canned bubby rosΓ© from House Wines. Two dollars from each can benefits the Human Rights Campaign. So, I was doing my good deed for the day, right?

Making errands bright.

When I finally arrived back at the Mini Manse, my monthly box of cat shit had arrived. No matter how many mother fucking pet beds are around, the pussies insist that boxes are best.

Rocky. Never a dick in a box.

Ruby Sue. Always a dick in a box.

I settled into what was supposed to be a relaxing bubble bath with my brand new wine glass from family who visited earlier this month. It immediately became my favorite upon laying eyes on it as it reads: I do not spew profanities. I enunciate them CLEARLY like a fucking lady. It’s like my cousin “gets me” or something. Speaking of getting, Prissy had visions of vino in her head as she tried to not-so-slyly get into the glass on the edge of my tub. She’s such a fucking bitch but she’s so obviously mine as she’s a true booze hound.

Still NOT sorry.

As the holidays roll around and the state of the world is divisive at best, I think it’s a good time to remember kindness. Life can be harsh as we are all aware, but being kind isn’t hard. I have a lot of people in my life who have lost loved ones, with this being their first holiday without them here. I also know peeps who just loathe the holiday seasons for their own reasons. Whatever the case may be, just remember a smile can go a mile.

Thanks for the reminder Mr. Rogers.

Here’s hoping you have a short work week and unapologetically enjoy it.

Sorry not sorry.

CBXB

CBXB!

Alive and Kickin’

Holla!

Did you think I fell off the face of the fucking earth? Well, I kinda did.

My 2016 in a nutshell.

My 2016 in a nutshell.

After the start of this year, I knew January was going to be a doozie, so I stuck my head in proverbial sand, pretending I was the world’s most glamorous ostrich.

A leopard print ostrich.

The first month of 2017 marked the initial 365 days without my sweet J.Bean on the planet. The absence of this fiery young force is missed tremendously by her family and friends.

First anniversary of a devastating loss.

A devastating loss last year.

Couple the above situation with the first anniversary of bad shit happening to a good person (yours truly) within days of one another, I almost hunkered down in my dressing room to cry the rest of my life away (with all of my furry pussies, of course). I was hoping a sparkly asteroid would hit my mini manse.

Awaiting the Glitterbombpocalypse.

Instead, almost one year to the day of my bad shit, I found motivation to get my ass the size of Iowa out of the closet. I chose to march with millions of other folks in hundreds of cities across the globe in solidarity with the Women’s March on Washington (if you’re one of the people still wondering why this took place (has your head been in the sand – or perhaps my purse from above?) I’ll be addressing that in a later blog). The Nashville march expected around 4,000 people. Over 15,000 showed up and peacefully flowed through the downtown streets.

#imarchwithlinda

#imarchwithlinda

Surrounded by thousands of fellow citizens made me feel less alone (which seems utterly ridiculous, since I have a support system that rivals the American military). On the actual anniversary evening of my incident, gal pals came over to the mini manse and at midnight, we cheersed the fuck out of surviving various bad shit that happens to all of us.

Cheers to

We survive. We persevere. We kick ass.

Starting the second month of 2017 off on the right high-heeled foot, I found myself feeling empowered, emotionally stronger and proud that I trudged through the worst few hundred days life has presented me thus far. Still struggling with PTSD, adjustment disorder and severe stress caused from one single traumatic event – I finally felt some of my happy seep back in. Happy – the one thing this lonely lady has needed most out of the many things stolen from her in an instant. And anything that makes me feel better seems like a goddamn victory.

Yay me.

I also found myself suddenly unemployed – but can’t say I was sad.

At all.

Although my wallet is waaaaay lighter, my spirits are brighter, not breathing fumes from a toxic environment. Stumbling into unemployment presented all kinds of fun. Like getting into a small fender bender on the way to a therapy session minutes after cleaning out my office.

I mean, C'MON.

Nothing a glass of vino can’t fix. With a side of car insurance…

Life Savers

… and a round of life savers.

Time away from the daily grind has been fabulous. It’s allowed me to arrange a long trip to Iowa, aiding Aunt Crazy Pants in kicking some cancer ass.

Aunt Crazy Pants

Jazz hands for Crazy Pants!

When bad shit happens to good people, sometimes they (who moi?) lose their fucking minds and adopt three cats at once without first consulting their existing pussy and chug.

Some of us were more happy than others on adoption day last year.

This milestone gave a big reason to celebrate! I mean, what pussy wouldn’t be thrilled to come home to a trashtacular mini manse and doting (albeit almost certifiably cray cray) mama?

Happy kit cat adoption day!

Dada CBXB and I threw down a party so hard, the cats needed to snooze the entire next day. And night. And then the next day. And night.

One year later…taking the damn manse over.

Having extra time on my personally manicured talons also means I can stare at these two mugs all day long.

Uh, yeah. Smiles for Miles

Uh, yeah. Smiles for miles from Iowa.

Waaaaaaay too cool for school.

Waaaaaaay too cool for school…

I'm waiting patiently to be their auntager.

… but not too cool to be models for their local library’s website. I’m waiting patiently to be their auntager.

While we creep into a Nashville spring, the reminder that human beings are generally kind has enveloped over me like a hangover seeps out of your pores on a Sunday morning. There’s finally a light at the end of the longest fucking tunnel I’ve ever looked down (maybe it’s more of a Grand Canyon type deal but you get the point, right?). Mind you, the hue is fuchsia with flecks of pink sparkle slowly falling all around. It doesn’t twinkle or glisten.

It glows. Radiating the biggest, brightest, fuchsia light I’ve ever fucking seen down a tunnel I’m starting to walk down. A tunnel I’m starting to run down. A tunnel I’m starting to sprint down. When I finally arrive at the other side of the tunnel (way out of breath needing a gallon of water but instead opting for a bottle of champs), watch out. Because it will be then that I’ll have gained the ability to pick up my rusty, once broken spirit and kick my ass into high gear.

Imthisclose.

Until then, I’m satisfied being just a little bit of a happier shit show.

At least I’m alive and kickin’!

Now, how the hell are you?

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!