July 1, 2022 by Cowboys and Crossbones

Iowa Nice Way of Life

Man, I (mostly) love all things Iowa. I’m still (mostly) proud to be an Iowan.

It’s a gorgeous place and I feel really lucky to be a life long product of the state.

I grew up in a tiny ass town in southwestern Iowa, about one hour north of the Missouri border.

This weekend, the municipality is having a Sesquicentennial celebration. What the fuck is a Sesquicentennial party you ask (because I had to)?

Dictionary Definition:

“Relating to the one-hundred-and-fiftieth anniversary of a significant event. As the town’s sesquicentennial celebrations get under way”.

Um, why do we have to have a fancy word? Why can’t it just be “Happy 150th Birthday!” but I digress. There’s going to be a weekend long par-tay and I can’t help but reflect on the town of 1,200 peeps that helped fabricate the me I turned out to be (I’m also slightly pissed I wasn’t asked to be the Grand Marshal of the parade but I *might* get over it if I’m honored with the position for the Bicentennial (200th birthday) celebration. And yes, I fully expect to be alive and kickin’).

I mean, if anyone can be a parade Grand Marshal, it’s moi. I mean, look how I rocked the town’s many year round parades.

There was the annual Lenox Rodeo parade every summer we NEVER missed out being participants in thanks to Mama CBXB.

We also never missed the rodeo and as always, gussied up for the event.

Then there was the homecoming parade every fall. The first time I participated as an attendant, I was pretty fucking sure I was gonna marry my escort.

Then there was always a Halloween parade (back when we could still call it Halloween without fun haters insisting it be referred to as “Fall Festivals” at school). The entire town never failed to bring their lawn chairs and line them all the way up and down the five block Main Street.

Lenox is not only my hometown but the birthplace where my love of all things pussies began.

Being raised in a small town, I had independence from an early age. For example, at five years of age, Mama CBXB would let me ride my bike three whopping blocks to the community pool with instructions to come home for lunch when the town’s noon siren blared (does this still happen daily?).

I never missed a meal. Be right back after my beloved ketchup sandwich.

Growing up in a small community gifted me the “zero fucks to give” attitude that is still one of my most precious assets. Wanna play baseball in your backyard sporting a swimsuit? DO IT.

Think plaid might be for you but then realize you aren’t made for straight, confining lines? DO IT.

Wanna forever capture your love of busy patterns, colors and accessories? GO FOR IT.

Feel like proudly hanging out in a stellar swimsuit with a perm while contemplating slipping into the most heinous sweatshirt on the planet? WHY NOT?

Wanna rock a scrunchie while Sister CBXB nonchalantly sports a mullet? FUCK YES.

My young informative years solidified my allergies to situations I still don’t love.

Like camping at Lake of Three Fires.

Or the time I discovered my fingernails were “jewels, not tools” after assisting Dada CBXB with gardening for one day.

My softball career was long enough lived for me to get a card made. I was the catcher because I could the ball throw to second base at 10. I have a few of these left if you want an autographed copy.

Growing up in a small town means getting to see your dad rock turquoise shorts on a flatbed truck during a lip sync contest. In front of all of your friends. And he was a PE teacher for the entire school system and football coach.

Dada CBXB was also able to embrace small town culture by taking a baby and toddler on motorcycle sidewalk rides. No biggie.

My love of football started in the stands of Friday games.

You can get anywhere in under three minutes, so participation in every available activity is achievable.

Dance we did.

I was the number one peanut seller for Brownies TWO YEARS IN A ROW. Receiving my $5.00 prize in the Methodist church basement was obvies a real treat. Mama CBXB was never worn out from being our Troop leader, costume maker or party planner.

Ever.

Speaking of party planning, boy, did Mama CBXB and this town create a party-for-lifer. Oh, and the more the fucking merrier.

My love of mascots started at a young age. I mean, I couldn’t wait to get my paws on the Easter Bunny.

However, I am shocked that this piss poor rendition of Santa didn’t ruin Christmas for me forever.

We moved after I finished seventh grade and I don’t get back very often. When I do, it is fun to do a drive-by memory lane. Like the house we lived in since my sister was born.

Before that, it was this abode.

I never miss a chance to go to my fave place for fried cheeseballs – The Tiger Den. And now they have gluten-free buns. I die.

The Lenox park is where a fuck ton of memories were created. School picnics, the swimming pool, Sister CBXB accidentally entering a tractor pedal pull and won first place, and where we played hours on the equipment. Last time I was in Lenox, I broke my body trying to recreate memories.

I threw my back out jumping off of the goddamn merry-go-round. Aren’t those death traps now?

Take my advice from above and just reminisce about the equipment instead of playing on it. Because I tweaked my ankle jumping out of the archaic (but in stellar condition) swing set. But how could I resist when my ample derriere fit in the swing?!?

I love that I was able to spend my childhood in a town where I was granted independence practically at birth, conditioned to play by myself when needed, taught the importance of being empathetic and to show up for your family, friends and neighbors. It’s a treat not many peeps get these days.

Mama CBXB came across this ribbon from the Centennial (fucking 100th birthday) and I display it in my kitchen hutch.

Happy Sesquish birthday, Lenox!

I’m crossing my claws in hopes to be the Grand Marshal for the Bicentennial.

Love ya, mean it.

CBXB

Buy Me a Drink

November 8, 2021 by Cowboys and Crossbones

The Man. The Myth. The Birthday Legend

Oh dads.

If you are lucky enough to have a dad, have had one or a father figure in your life, then you win. A familiar fixture on this blog and in my life, my dada celebrates his day of birth (along with his twin!) today. Aunt Crazy Pants once doled out advice that I didn’t think much of at the time when I was younger. She said (during some stupid crazy boy drama, no doubt) “No man will ever love you the way your dad loves you.”

This didn’t really dawn on me until I was an “adult” (a term I use for myself extremely loosely these days) and a dude I was living with said to me, “I can’t treat you like your dad treats you.”

BOY BYEEEEEEEEEEE.

I guess I never had to think about it because of the jackpot I scored when my dad chose to be mine. A knight in shining (well, in his case probably rusty) armour. A frugal on the allowance guy whose driving abilities were always affected by how loudly the radio was playing in unknown territory (TURN DOWN Q.102 GIRLS WE’RE IN DES MOINES!). A dad who commuted four hours daily to work but rarely missed an extra curricular activity. A dude who could scare boyfriends shitless with his size but is actually a giant, goofy Teddy Bear.

A father who not only duct taped my glasses together in the third grade (hence the short-lived nickname “Ducky” by the oh-so-sweet 10-year-olds) but also uses the same magic to keep my bumper adhered to my car as an “adult”.

A dad who tells you to “tough it up” when you’re sitting in the superintendent’s office, holding a bloody chin after being hit in the face with a baseball bat during P.E. but remains strong and silent decades later when he’s driving you to the hospital after being raped.

So yeah, Aunt Crazy Pants and her advice rings true – best of luck to a dude ever living up to The Man, The Myth, My Legend.

Celebrating the Big Fella today, please join me as I share some of the valuable…

LESSONS FROM MY LEGEND

You should always have your family’s back…

… even if they often attack.

Throw your hands up in the air…

…and wave them like I just don’t care.

Even if you’re a dork inside…

…it’s no matter if you’re cool on the outside.

The art of muscle blowing is unique.

Passed down to generations for upkeep.

Pink isn’t just for girls…

…guys often put the color on for a whirl.

Sequins should be in my everyday attire…

… as you gave me the first bedazzled top I ever acquired.

It’s OK to stand out in a crowd…

…just be sure to do it loud and proud.

Giving is better than receiving…

…except when you let your three-year-old open your gift to be appeasing.

The importance of slathering on sunscreen daily…

…just be sure to not get too crazy.

The significance of jazz hands…

…often help when making demands.

It’s not a road trip…

…unless you have rot gut vodka and your finger to mix.

Reminding me there’s more than one fish in the sea…

…especially whenever a boy has been mean to me.

Being the life of the party…

…is like leading one big, fun army.

The duo that shoots shots together…

…stays together.

…even while pigging out at the Iowa State Fair.

It’s OK to relax…

…after a day has been crap.

You’ve carried me through physical hard times…

…even if sometimes it was from too much self-inflicted wine.

Tipping my Skinny Pirates when my nails are drying…

…because you know there’s a silver lining.

Most importantly, not all heroes wear capes…

…just dads who pick us up no matter our proverbial scrapes.

So let us all raise our glasses today…

…and cheers your birthday away!

Those are just a few of my lessons from…

The Man. The Myth. The Legend.

Happy Birthday Dada!

Join the twins in a sing-a-long to Coo Coo…

(of course we do not have normal monikers such as Grandpa in my classy family)

We love you.

CBXB

October 4, 2021 by Cowboys and Crossbones

Weekend Winks – The Fall Edition

So what the fuck has everyone been up to these days? You back at the office (I have been since March and boy, do I miss working from home)? Your kids in school? Or are you still virtual everything? Can you even go back to work if your kids are at home? Are you vaccinated? Do you wear a mask when you’re in large groups even if you are vaxxed? How you doing since the two week “flatten the curve” of 2020?

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!?!

I mean holy fucking hell. This year went from being a fresh start and then I blinked and it’s fucking October. After working from home nearly a year, I’ve found it rough “wasting” four hours of my day I didn’t realize I was missing out Before Rona. I would leave my house at 7am and get home at 7pm if I worked out, lugging my bags (usually forgetting my lunch on the counter) and sometimes even DOING SOMETHING after all of that in the evening. How did I have the energy?!?! Rona has made me lazier and like most of the world, my hair got washed about once a month during the deep throes of the pandemic.

Me. Trying to acclimate to sort of Post Rona Times but obvies not handling it well.

There hasn’t been much activity to report because my weekends were filled with the pool, Skinny Pirates, Netflix, snacks, wine, repeat. But now that college football is in full swing, you know what that means?! Dada CBXB and my Family Tradition Touchdown Shots are baaaaaaaack!

My Iowa Hawkeyes have been killing it so far this season. This team plays for a win but isn’t “showy or sexy” as one commentator put it last weekend. But ya know what? We are number three in the nation after schooling the Maryland Terps on Friday night 51-14.

It’s been years since we needed two hands for a photo op! Dada CBXB got the number six in our last pic, accompanied by the evening ending shot. Don’t worry, we had very fancy snacks for the game to help soak up the Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Fire.

A very fucking cool initiative college football is undertaking is creating awareness regarding mental health. An often taboo subject, (which of course it shouldn’t be because just like physical health, we all have mental health) this is helping change the narrative for young athletes and people. I’m so here for this shit.

Because the Hawks played on Friday night, I was able to hang with The Silent Indian on Saturday of whom I hadn’t seen since the night of the Nashville tornado in March of 2020. Hot dayum.

Of course I got to talking at him about the most important element of the football game. The outfits. Which most refer to as uniforms but not me. They’re outfits. And, I’m pretty sure that the Iowa Hawkeyes have the best outfits in all of college football. Of course TSI thinks his team’s blah hunter green and white outfits are better, so I took to the inaccurate IG story polls for reassurance.

WELP……..

Obvies that argument is settled.

After the outfit chit chat, I thought it would be fun to FaceTime everyone we knew because who doesn’t do that on a Saturday night?

All in all a successful round of drunk dial FaceTime.

While I was very busy sitting on my ass, watching football and drinking Skinny Pirates all weekend, my twins had their first soccer game! And yes, I know they look like actual kids instead of little kids. Time please slow down.

In recovery on Sunday, I enjoyed a gluten free chicken pot pie, in which I also add a bag of peas. Therefore, it is called Pea Pie.

By Sunday night I could hardly keep my eyes open due to all of the fucking social time spent with two men in my life that have known me forever and which I didn’t have to make small talk. But it’s the first time since….2019 (?) that I’ve done something two nights in a fucking row. Our night ended early like this….

Happy 3,820 week in Rona hell. Hope you are all keeping your sanity and if you ever think you’re on the brink, just remember I always have been and always will be a walking shit show. So know that you aren’t alone.

Love ya, Mean it!

CBXB

Buy Me a Drink

April 26, 2021 by Cowboys and Crossbones

Weekend VAXXED Winks

So if you weren’t aware, Dr. Anthony Fauci is my off-season Lee Corso. In other words, I’m cheating on my 85-year- old main squeeze with a younger 80-year-old side piece.

What can I say? I have a thing for 80 year olds who love my Hawkeyes and science.

When I was able to get my Fauci Ouchie to say I was ecstatic is an understatement. I went to a slick drive thru vaccination station and from start to finish it took 20 minutes (including the 15 minutes I had to wait afterward to ensure I wouldn’t spontaneously combust from a side effect). Naturally, I brought support with me.

Pretty sure ya girl is gonna be on a progressive candidate’s commercial at midterm time, as I was filmed getting vaxxed and cursed the useless Tennessee governor and celebrated the shot going in my arm like I’d just won a billion dollars. You know, my usual timid self.

Getting the Fauci Ouchie was cause for celebration much like everything else in my life. But there was a shift in how I felt – a combination of relief and what is that I see?….a light at the end of the Rona tunnel?! Getting vaxxed gave me a renewed lease on an almost post Rona (fingers crossed) life!

Hanging with an also fully vaxxed Mama CBXB.

Prissy is able to socialize (aka lunge for nachos) again at her fave local spot, Alley Pub that allows canines on the patio.

I’ve been more active outside now that the weather has turned to a gorgeous Tennessee spring.

Percy Warner park in all of its green glory.

This little beast can walk three miles (so, 30,000 steps for her) like it’s no biggie. I’m referring to the dog.

Last week started off in a tense manor, as most of the country prepared for the verdict in Derek Chauvin trial. You know, the sociopath cop who murdered George Floyd casually kneeing his neck for nine minutes filmed by a minor child last May.

I wanted to throw the fuck up when I heard the verdict was in on Tuesday.

Thank FUCK the jury held a murderer accountable for George Floyd. Art by Nikkolas Smith.

I stayed late at work to watch the verdict read live and updated the fam, who was also waiting nervously.

While this was a fucking gigantic relief, there is so much more work to be done in this country regarding racism and the blasé attitude so many white people have toward it. But holy fuck was this a needed victory.

After a collective sigh of relief, the rest of the week flew by. I’m back at the office full time now and boy, it was a hard transition after being able to roll out of bed, take care of the fur kids, make coffee and roll up to my home office desk all in 15 minutes time. Now, having to actually give a fuck about my appearance, put on real pants AND wash my hair regularly takes almost every ounce of energy in my being.

It’s such a foreign feeling to be around coworkers and have semblance to the Before Times. I miss working out over lunch with my fave trainer who also happens to have the name of Meghan Trainor (how purrfect?!). I got addicted to her free daily Instagram workouts during quarantine. So I jump on when I’m at work to say hi because I have major FOMO.

The back at the office routine has me extra ready for that TGIF cocktail and I spent Friday on a phone-a-thon with two of my fave peeps.

First up was Slappy (you know, my former co-worker who drunkenly slapped me at a work party when I told her I’d wait on her to go to the bathroom. I knew I loved her from that moment on) and her adorable fur kid, Roscoe.

Next up was Sister CBXB and we had no fun talking as you can see. What the fuck did we do before this technology?!

Saturday was quite luxurious for the pussies of the Mini Manse.

Rocky spent most of the day in my tub, awaiting me to bring him a meowmosa. All of the other Pussy Posse members lounged on the patio, delighted it’s back open for them 24/7 now that the weather is fab.

My Iowa twins had a glow party in their basement. I’m hoping the sticks are still lit when I get to see them next month.

Prepare for your mind to be blown when you gander below at how the twins have turned into actual mini adults. Time needs to stop for a sec, OK?

Sunday was a gorge day to spend outside, so of course I opted to day drink with my friend Aha! inside instead.

Cheers to being out and about with two-for-ones!

Speaking of my love of 80-year-olds, I saw a fucking dude roar in on a bike that looked like it was custom built for me.

The hair. The vest. The bike. The colors. Naturally, I need a pic with my newfound soulmate.

Can we all be this fucking cool at 82?!? Is the octogenarian age group the new 40-year-olds? I’m thinking YES.

Being out and about, I don’t even mind seeing what always annoys me to my core. One of these annoyances is when couples sit on the same fucking side of the table. I mean, can’t you just gaze at each other across the fucking table?

This has bothered me since Scooby and I saw a couple doing this at the Olive Garden my Junior homecoming.

Sunday is hair do day for Princess B and check out her new braids, compliments of Sister CBXB’s sure to be future arthritis’d hands.

I had every intention of heading home and popping some champs for Hollywood’s “golden” night watching The Oscars.

Stocking up on my new fave champs – Barefoot Brut Rosé Bubbles. Mask by Any Old Iron.

While I was gussying up, I poured myself a glass to primp before my own personal red carpet.

Then I made the mistake of sitting down on the couch and taking a two hour nap. So I skipped my own red carpet, and proceeded to watch the most boring Oscars of ALL TIME. Rocky couldn’t even cuddle to watch it was so lack luster.

So here we are at the start of another maybe closer-to-post-Rona-life week. Although I’m fully vaxxed, I continue to wear my mask in support of those who haven’t yet had a chance to get their shots and because I give fucks about other people. Wearing a piece of fabric over my face contributes to the mask culture and supports those around me. I hope you do the same for me and your neighbors.

Love ya, mean it.

CBXB

BUY ME A DRINK!

January 19, 2021 by Cowboys and Crossbones

My Crazy Eights

My favorite day of all time will always be January 17, 2013. The two most important humans to me graced this planet with their presence. While I was the last of my immediate family to find out about the twins (I’m totally over it, as you can tell), I won’t ever forget the moment on a Thursday late afternoon when Sister CBXB called and told me to pull over and stop driving.

I was going to be an aunt. Two times over.

It’s a good fucking thing that I was in my car because the decibel my already extremely not quiet voice reached piercing heights (my whisper is your regular “inside” voice). The sound most definitely would have caused anyone around me immediate deafness. I can’t believe my vehicle windows didn’t shatter.

I was so fucking happy, thrilled, excited, for myself (oh, and Sister CBXB and B-I-L of course) discovering that I would forever get to spoil a little boy and a little girl. I loved them before ever laying eyes on them.

Then I laid eyes on them.

My heart basically exploded and in the very best way possible, I knew that life was never, ever going to be the same. They immediately became my number ones (my sister is my adult number one because she got married and had the kids, taking all pressure off of me…and now I can adopt all of the pussies in the world).