Shoe shopping, snoozing, and a sparkly pink Christmas tree accompanied by a little Whitney Houston rounded out my Nashville shenanigans this past weekend.
Leopard and zebra print go hand in hand, yes?
Friday night found the mall screaming my name and while there I fell in lust with sparkly, leopard print wedge sandals. Pretty sure these were going to find a home on a shelf in my shoe closet, I still needed to give them a test walk. Problem was my skinny jeans were so tight that I couldn’t pull my knee-high socks off, which resulted in a look that will surely become the fashionable rage this winter season.
Single-handedly starting a new trend.
As I pranced up and down the aisles, I came across a rather exhausted dad who was hogging the bench where I needed to rest my weary ass.
Teenage daughters are draining.
Gift with purchase? No thanks.
Since there was no room at the Shoe Snoozing Inn, I high tailed it to the nearest restaurant to rest my weary paws. Which of course included cocktails (how can one possibly rest without libations?).
Nashville’s most beautiful thirst quencher.
Ted and I were able to be lazy on Saturday morning, as we had no Hawkeye football to look forward to due to a bye week, although he was seriously underwhelmed by my computer’s presence in bed.
Handy assistant snuggled down with emails.
My bestie from college has a rather unhealthy adoration of a Whitney Houston t-shirt. She wore this white top acquired from a concert in her youth so much, it appeared dingy gray when I first met her forever ago.
A once white Whitney t-shirt that’s now vintage…most likely causing Ms. Houston to roll over in her grave.
Said Whitney lover just had a gorgeous princess a few months back and much to my delight on Saturday, I received a pic confirming that the “Greatest Love of All” singer would be adored by the next generation.
Like mother, like daughter … forced by mother.
Mr. Bear was able to move from the bed to his Pussy Palace where he thought the day would pass along quietly. And he was sorely mistaken.
Hanging out in the PP…literally.
What does a non-moonshine, football-less (i.e. no Iowa Hawkeyes or Tennessee Titans games) weekend mean for CBXB? Putting up the Christmas tree of course (what all normal gals do with their cat on a Saturday evening in November, right? And for all of you folks who are groaning that it’s not even Thanksgiving yet, just chill). And Teddy had to inspect every. single. aspect. of this activity.
Every nook of the box.
And every cranny of the lid.
Tedstar immediately took a front row seat to the festivities and refused to move, as I tried to construct the 6′ pink tinsel (be still my beating heart) tree. Such a helpful pussy.
Taking it all in while not lifting a paw.
My fur ball did get off his lazy ass when it came time to throw the lights on the tree.
When it came time for ornaments, Bear was all smiles (well, as smiley as a cat can be) until he caught a glimpse of himself in a photo from our first Christmas together. When I so sweetly adorned him with a reindeer hat and scarf (you know, how all cats are dressed for Christmas card pics).
WHAT. THE. HELL.
It took all of two seconds for remnants of embarrassment to get Ted’s heart racing, resulting in swift removal of my beloved decoration.
De-ornamenting the tree.
He then decided to stand guard, ensuring that the mortifying pic would not make it back onto the tree.
Over my furry body that f’ing photo will be displayed.
Feeling not at all bad, I thought it best to make up with the little furry love of my life. To no avail.
Room for me under the tree? Nope.
While Teddy sulked away his humiliation (he’s such a little bitch), I finished my pride and joy with a few Skinny Pirates assisting me.
Up and glowing.
And for all of you on the edge of your seats, worried about the status of Mr. Bear and myself…well, we kissed and made nice.
After I got a very stern talking to…and almost lost a chunk of my schnoz.
I’m happy to report all of our body parts remain in tact today – although I’m guess I’ll be a few less once we take our Christmas card photo in a few weeks.