Tag Archives: classy lady

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Weekend Winks – Bird Shit and Losing Bets

The Nashville weekend started early with a chance to go see a Beatle in all of his glory – for free!

This didn't suck.

This didn’t suck.

Taking full advantage of what our suite had to offer, waiting for Sir Paul to take the stage wasn’t difficult.

Suite life

Stalking up in the suite.

Gals on a budget know what to do when presented with free food.

Double fist.

Taking full advantage of the free. Gals on a budget know what to do when presented with free food. Double fist.

Cramming it in with class.

The concert was beyond fantastic, with Sir Paul playing for nearly three hours.

American, England and Tennessee flags flying high. See that small black one in the background? It was a pirate flag, which I assumed was for me.

American, England and Tennessee flags flying high. See that small black one in the background? It was a pirate flag, which I assumed was for me.

Naturally I had to snap my photo with the rock star and I’m pretty sure it turned out good enough to be my Christmas card this year.

Me

You can totally tell where I am, right?

Seems that flying on a kick ass concert high can be sucked right out of you the following afternoon when involved in a minor parking lot accident.

With someone who doesn’t speak English.

BOom

Fun times on Friday.

It did seem as if there was a small rain cloud over my head because while walking to a concert (yes, my third night in a row and yes, I’m still exhausted) I managed to get shit on by a bird. Without noticing it in my hair or my hand until I looked down to take a long guzzle of wine at the bar pre-show and then rushed to the bathroom.

Classy lady in the bar alert!

Bird shit. No shit.

Not bullshitting about the bird shit.

When the concert finally ended (Bluegrass shows promise two acts on the ticket, then invite everyone they know to come and play a song, which can make a concert last four hours), I mosied my way back to the mini manse to find this prize waiting for me by the door…

Left me this sweet surprise as he alwyas finagled his way out.

Ted’s way of showing me he’s done being a cone head.

Ted had a bum ear last week that he wouldn’t leave alone, therefore was forced into being in an uncomfortable state (you know, because he acted like the cone weighed 500 fucking pounds).

Ear infection?

Just trying to heal this little biatch.

It seemed like a small miracle the ear healed because every time I turned around Mr. Bear had weaseled himself out of the embarrassing accessory.

And then puked his way out of it.

All the shit I do and this is the thanks I get?

Cone head no more.

Good news arrived via text on Saturday morning proving that my niece, Princess B is going to grow up and be a rock star.

Rock star in the making.

Don’t worry, I’ll work on getting her a sparklier wardrobe.

It was also a big game day, as my blogging buddy Mark Bialczak’s alma mater was playing mine this weekend in college football. We had a virtual pinky bet that the loser had to post a big, smiling photo of the winner enjoying the game.

Food prepped

Our food was prepped.

Moonshine

The moonshine flowed for 31 points.

But in the end my team, the Iowa Hawkeyes were out played by the Maryland Terps and lost 31-38.

We took it pretty hard.

Losers

Loser face.

Drowning in my sorrows.

Loser post game activity.

But after we drowned in our sorrows for 30 seconds, we realized there was more football to watch, more snacks to eat and more cocktails to cuddle.

All peppy after taht.

Congrats Mark!

Who says sore losers can’t be smiling? Mark’s victorious photo will be posted on the blog soon.

Enjoy your week and be careful in parking lots…

CBXB

CBXB!

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How to Make an Ass of Yourself in a Fancy Vegas Bar

Hey, is that Kate Upton?

Hey, is that Kate Upton? Nope. Just an asshole tourist trying to tear diamond decor from the wall.

It all started with good intentions.

On the last morning of my inaugural Vegas trip, I realized that I’d barely ventured outside of any hotel property I’d stepped foot in (MGM Grand, Hard Rock Casino) and thought it’d be best to check out the strip before heading to the airport to catch a late afternoon flight.

The problem is, we started at The Cosmopolitan where I immediately morphed into a raccoon with all of the sparkly, shiny, lighted decor glowing all around me.

Shoemazing!

A lady who could live in a shoe. A fabulous, high-heeled shoe.

The height of my sensory overload peaked at The Chandelier bar which was a must stop for a late morning cocktail (it’s Vegas, don’t judge. And plus, it’s football season and perfectly acceptable to drink liquor before noon, right?) and where I threw any remaining ounce of classiness out of my body.

Hello Heaven.

Hello Heaven.

We thought one drink wouldn’t hurt before heading out to catch a few last hours of sun and fun down the Las Vegas strip.

Happy breakfast cocktail!

Cheers for breakfast cocktails!

But then we made new friends like Olga from Germany (who had harsh love advice for me but kept padding it with liquor, so I listened).

And this started happening. Over and over.

Then this happened.

Three times the fun!

As the libations kept being poured, we didn’t want our Vegas vacay to end (and I didn’t really want to leave the confines of another hotel property), so we pushed our flight back a few hours in order to keep the day party going (who cared if the new arrangements had us landing at 1am and we had to work the next morning? We certainly didn’t mind. Until the next morning arrived, of course).

If we hadn’t changed our flight, this photo shoot would never have taken place (who really needs to walk the strip, anyhow?).

holla

That’s right. A daytime photo shoot on Vegas hotel stairs might have given me an elbow rash.

And if we’d kept our previous travel plans, I never would have been able to strain my back trying to attain the perfect arch for my new modeling portfolio.

Started off as Gisele

Can someone help me flip over? Please? Seriously. Help.

What would fancy Las Vegas casino bars do without trashtacular tourists such as myself?

Be a million notches classier, perhaps?

CBXB

CBXB!

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How to Trash Up the 90210 of Nashville

What’s in a zip code? Everything (especially for shallow folks like me).

Since moving to Nashville, I longed to claim residence on the posh West side.  After searching for a place to call home a few years ago on a very strict budget, I fell in love with a little duplex in the highly coveted area.  And the two top selling points – the fancy zip code and the fact that it was two miles away from my own personal Cheers (that delivers food to my front door, might I add) – a classy lady like yours truly has standards, you know.  So in a leap of faith and in hopes with my fingers, toes and legs crossed that I could always make rent, I went for it.

Now I currently live in the 90210 of Nashville. Oh, snap!

How does one live only a few miles away from this house and keep it classy?

Share the same zip...not the same lifestyle.

Share the same zip…not the same lifestyle.

Well, I don’t. There’s not much class (not surprised are you?) in my neck of the ‘hood (which is more Skid Row than Beverly Hills – but I STILL HAVE THAT DAMN ZIP CODE!) Especially with the help of my neighbor.

When you pull into my drive and park your vehicle, this is the view of my neighbor’s gorgeous shed that might literally blow down if someone came by and huffed and puffed.

The beautifully rusted shed, damaged in a flood three years ago.

The beautifully rusted shed, damaged in a flood three years ago.

My neighbor can also grow mushrooms (that stand out like eye sores next to our crew a few miles over with their pristine yards) in our lawn like he’s Papa Smurf.

I tried to spruce up our joint yard by adding an outside porch wing to my mini manse. Click here to read about the building ordeal.

Wing'd up in class

Kinda classy, right?

blah blah

90210 cocktails – in trashy attire.

And after all of my efforts, this happened….

bly bly

Gone with the wind, not so fabulous.

blah blah

A Nashville 90210 nightmare.

And then another storm blew through, further trashing up the joint…

Making it hard to stay classy

Mother nature could give an F what zip code this umbrella resides in.

And now, I’m adding to the lovely trashiness with my now ultra unfabulous umbrella.

Damaged Goods

Damaged goods.

I’ve even managed to grow mold with my green thumb on top of my snazzy shade protector.

Managed to grow mold with my green thumb

Green with envy, are you?

But nothing quite tops what I came home to yesterday (on my neighbor’s side of the yard, FYI). A couch. In case you get tired while you’re driving by and want to stop, lay down and take a nap.  Hell, I might even bring out a Skinny Pirate for you.

blah blah blah

Naps for sale.

Keepin’ it classy in the 90210 of Nashville ‘hood. Someone’s gotta do it.

CBXB

CBXB!

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How to Give a Trashy Gift From the Heart

Know someone who has had a particularly shitty year? Well, do I have a cheap and easy gift idea for you!

Being the classy lady (it is white trash Wednesday here at CBXB after all), one of my life’s mantras is “SUCK IT.”

My entire year of 2010, one gigantic black cloud followed me daily, pouring buckets of disaster over my head.  I lost my job, ended a six-year relationship, moved out of the house we’d shared for five years and moved in with my parents (every adult’s dream) all in one January week.

After all of that fun, I fell into a depression, wound up broke, finding myself in a mountain of debt, had friends crap out on me and got taken to the cleaners so inexplicably and despicably, I could have starred in my own Lifetime movie (which I would have rocked, of course. Then I could just be the girl who shows up in every single Lifetime movie with a small role. Job of my dreams!).

So needless to say, I was beyond thrilled December 31, 2010. I couldn’t wait to tell the past year to kiss my ass, so I decided to concoct my perfect New Year’s Eve attire by making my own T-shirt.

Who knew a little glitter glue and puffy paint could make a gal so happy?!

Who knew a little glitter and glue could make a gal so happy?!

And to convey my excitement over counting down the last ten seconds of the year…

Just to convey my excitement counting backward from 10. I have such a small mouth, don't I?

I have such a small mouth, don’t I?

Although I’m still climbing my way out of financial canyons due to circumstances out of my control two year’s ago, this shirt helped me put pep back into my step. I got my happy back!

Loving my bedazzled T-shirt so much (it hangs outside of my closet as ‘art’ because I giggle every time I see it), I’ve recreated a version for friends who could use a little pick me up after their past year, in the hope it brings a chuckle. All for about $10.

Here’s what you’ll need:

Glitter fabric paint or puffy paint (yeah, it’s still around!)

Glitter for fabric (I usually stick with silver because it will show on any color)

Basic colored T-shirt

This set will cost you about $7 and last you through many DIY projects

This set will cost you about $7 and last you through many DIY projects.

I can usually find T-shirts at Target for around $6. Cheaper if they’re short-sleeved or a tank (if you choose a tank, make sure it isn’t ribbed).

Wash and dry the t-shirt before starting your painting masterpiece.

Wash and dry the shirt before starting your one of a kind masterpiece.

Put something between the shirt to keep from

Put something between the shirt to keep the glue from sticking to the back…yes, I learned the hard way.

I use a silver colored Sharpie to

I use a silver-colored Sharpie to pattern my words, so I can just retrace with puffy paint.

After you have finished with the glue, it’s time for my favorite part – piling on the glitter!

Pile on the glitter!

I let this set for a few hours before shaking the excess off.

And just like that, you’ve created a piece that will bring a smile to your buddy’s face. ‘Tis the season, right?

The end result..

Good tidings of cheer!

If this message a little too vulgar for you, please remember, one gal’s trash is another gal’s treasure.

Oh and if it’s not a gift well received?

Just tell them to SUCK IT.

CBXB