August 30, 2019 by Cowboys and Crossbones

Too In Love to Let It Go

It’s fucking insane that my kick ass Aunt Crazy Pants has been partying up above for over 700 days now. This weekend, it will be two years since she went to bicker with her mother up above (They seriously used to keep track of who called who last – and reported it to me every time I spoke to either one of them. Thinking about it now, I should have just conducted a three way call and then they would have been even.)

No shit. Eleven days since you last spoke? Did you know the phone works both ways?

I still forget and go to pick up the phone to text or call and then remember I can only communicate via the red bird, a cardinal. I think about ACP every day (I mean, I do have her signature tattooed on my wrist) but I especially think about her during my beloved Iowa State Fair, which just took place at the beginning of August. After my folks moved to Nashville, ACP would always be my state fair side kick unabashedly wearing fucking Crocs (so called “shoes” that I hate with a passion) on her feet while she humored me on my yearly 12 hour day of fair festivities (present when the cannon goes off in the morning until the fireworks boom after the nightly concert at the Grandstand).

She also poured water over her head when she was hot.

I haven’t been back to the Iowa State Fair since ACP passed and it will be bittersweet when I get to go again. But she relayed the torch to R. Nasty who was keen to accompany ACP and me to the fair in past years even though it was most likely the worst days of his life. Now, he gets me all to himself as I force him to eat everything in sight, ride the death traps carnies assemble (although they took the double ferris wheel away and I AM NOT OK WITH IT) and visit every.single.livestock barn.

Two peas in a forced fair pod.

I’ve really been missing her beyond lately. It’s comforting to a degree knowing that she’s with her folks, other family members and all of my fur balls (who are most likely mauling her) that passed before ACP. While our family celebrates her life while we’re still living on, it doesn’t make the void any less painful. I miss the cards she used to mail me. I miss her texts that made no fucking sense (so I’d end up having to call her anyway to find out what the fuck she was talking about). I miss cheering her up on what she called her ‘blue’ days. I miss making her laugh until she pissed her pants (super easy). I miss her Christmas Village she set up every year that was literally the size of a small town. I miss laughing with her. She was my second mom.

Whenever I hear the song “Fix You” by Coldplay from their X&Y album, I think of ACP and the fucking cancer that stole her life waaaaaaaaay too soon (the chicks on her side of the family easily live to at least 90 years young. This means I’m going to need a helluva lotta Botox). If you haven’t heard the song or need a refresher, stop what you’re doing and go listen to it or click on the highlighted Fix You words above for a link to the video. I’ve always loved the song but it’s taken on a new meaning for me since ACP passed.

When she received her unfuckingfair diagnosis, her peeps rallied and while we couldn’t fix or take the pain away from her, we could provide happy experiences for her remaining time and and memories for her to leave with us. She tried her best to stay as long as she could here because she was insanely in love with her kids, grandkids, family, friends and was at a point in life where she was positively starting over.

Positive pants.

In honor of Aunt Crazy Pants, turn your radio (or really these days, your iPhone) up, raise those gin rickey’s (or Black Velvet and Diet 7Up, whichever you’re feeling) high in the air, as we celebrate how much we miss her and hate the fuck out of cancer in my mixed lyric rendition of the song.

Fix You

When you try your best

But you don’t succeed

When you get what you want

But not what you need

When you feel so tired

But you can’t sleep

Stuck in reverse

And high up above

Or down below

When you’re too in love

To let it go

But if you never try

You’ll never know

Just what you’re worth

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And we did try to fix you

Tears stream

Down your face

When you lose something you cannot replace

Tears stream

Down your face

When you lose something you can’t replace

Tears stream

Down your face

When you lose something you cannot replace

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And we don’t have to fix you

Love you Aunt Nancy.

September 22, 2017 by Cowboys and Crossbones

One More Time, Mom

My beloved Aunt Crazy Pants passed away after a valiant fight against terminal lung cancer (after never smoking a goddamn cigarette in her life). By the time cancer was found through an unrelated surgery, it had already spread everywhere but her brain and she was given six months to a year to live last summer. Well, being a feisty little bitch, she survived with cancer 370 days.

Beat cancer for five extra days. Suck it.

Family and friends gathered to give life stealing cancer the middle finger, celebrating ACP with her favorite cocktails of Gin Rickeys, Black Velvet and margaritas.

Gin Rickeys all around.

Sharing stories of peeing our pants over shit she would say or do (when she literally shit her pants – like during a shopping trip at Target with her mom once. I just got an eye roll (sorry Gma) and a belly laugh (you’re welcome ACP) from the sky), witnessing tears running down her leg from laughing so hard and generally remembering the spirit this woman, mother, daughter, sister, crazy fun aunt and loyal friend to countless people sprinkled throughout our lives.

To say there’s a hole in my soul doesn’t do it justice, as my aunt was like a mother to me and I take after her in many lovely ways.

What I do know is:

I will carry on her klutziness (I fell into her closet after getting out of her bed the day after the funeral).

We also ruin phones the same. She dropped hers in a toilet, I run my over with cars. It’s a special talent.

I carry her ability to get tongue tied at any given moment (I asked a male co-worker at a new job if “these are the size of rubbers you wanted” – I forgot the word band after rubber).

Did I seriously say that?!

I have the ease of her unabashed bluntness and no fear of confrontation (she deemed me the biggest bitch of the family before she passed. I know, so sweet).

Wanna hear it or not, we tell it like it is.

I will honor her by eating double what I normally do during trips to the Iowa State Fair.

Two for me.

Being a crazy aunt is something I’m already all over.

Or rather, they’re all over me.

I was born with her dramatic flair for life, so that torch was lit long ago within me.

Jazz hands for life.

While it’s important to remember that when someone may no longer be among us on earth, our relationship with them can still exist, it’s also important to remember the quality of life given during an especially grueling battle with cancer. ACP’s youngest son R. Nasty made sacrifices I can’t say many young adults his age – let alone any adult – would do to care for his dying mother. I mean before being diagnosed with cancer, she was already the most dramatic woman on the planet (like bitching about “having” to pack to go to Hawaii – or any other fabulous destination…yeah, poor thing), so you can imagine the sheer joy the magnification of her theatrics became.

Flair for fun dramatics.

R. Nasty moved in with his mom (all young men’s dream come true) being closest in proximity and able to make accommodations to do so, while his other brothers and extended family lived further away.

All other Bros and Hos live far away.

He answered every time she hollered with a patient, “yes Mother,” sauntered into her room after every bell ring (a sound that will surely haunt him for the rest of his days), removed an ice cube each time he accidentally put four instead of three into her water and endless other duties that come along with caring for a cancer patient.

The true meaning of ‘got your back’.

My point is, this dude is a fucking saint. Throughout all the treatment routines, doctor’s appointments, therapy, surgeries, etc, ACP’s absolute favorite time was watching The Late Show with Stephen Colbert with R. Nasty every weeknight. Even if she dozed off in the evening as she got more cancer riddled, she wanted to be woken up to watch Stephen Colbert with her son.

Wake me up before you go go!

In the evening on August 31, 2017 my feisty aunt was taken from home hospice to the hospital. That night, as the end was drawing near, the room full of family was clearing out and R. Nasty leaned in and said, “We’re going to watch Stephen Colbert one more time, Mom.” And that they did. She died at 3am on Friday, September 1^st, 2017.

While we’ve partied in every way possible in honor of Aunt Crazy Pants’ love of life, I’d like to acknowledge the sacrifices her son made so selflessly. When asked about it he always says (and still does), “it’s my honor to take care of my mother.”

I hope my cats step up to the plate like that for me when the time comes.

Yeah…I’m fucked.

Cheers to the craziest fun aunt I got to call mine. We all miss you something terrible.

Life already isn’t the same.

I love you.

CBXB

August 14, 2017 by Cowboys and Crossbones

My Gma the Great

I’ve never been one to take my family or time with them for granted, so it was real bummer when my Gma passed away two years ago. Not only was she one of my best buddies, I know I inherited her brutal honesty, ornery streak and love of having my fingernails polished.

To celebrate what would have been her 94 birthday today, an ode to my Gma the great!

Always one to laugh at surprises…

…you took to my photobombing like it was one of your most treasured prizes.

You never let anyone forget…

…when it was time to celebrate you bigger than the national debt.

I learned from the best…

…how to celebrate my life full of zest.

Now seriously Gma, you taught me to party harder than Mae West.

A love of leopard you instilled….

…which is now being passed down to the next generation, who’s thrilled.

It’s so fun you two met at a skating rink…

…even if after 44 years you still had to steal kisses quicker than an eye blink.

Although I took after Gpa avoiding kisses, rather craving a hard drink…

…you always insisted on showing your love, making sure everyone was in sync.

Beauty sleep and a hairnet was apparently all that you needed…

…but truly it was your hair ‘dos that always succeeded.

So it was with glasses and confidence that I superseded…

…the grace and confidence that you always heeded.

I wish I would have felt more impeded.

The Iowa State Fair you never did love,

probably because you couldn’t wear foot gloves.

It will never be the same, not bringing you a corn dog…

…and discussing how I ate my way through the fair like a prize-winning hog.

Circled blacked out dates always meant you had a companion…

…you always loved attention bigger than the Grand Canyon.

Attending every homemade Christmas pageant we made…

…and most likely secretly prayed…

…that I would never end up a lonely old maid.

The first to pass of five sisters, who lived out their misters,

…you loved being pampered more than a fever blister.

Your nails were painted the day before you passed…

…and Jell-O shots without you will seem so miscast.

Regardless of view near or afar, life will never be the same…

…without you as my shining rock star.

Love and miss you Gma.

August 23, 2016 by Cowboys and Crossbones

Weekend Winks – On a Wing and a Prayer

There’s many reasons why humans over consume booze.

One of those 4,891,492 reasons is travel.

Last week, I was en route to Iowa to see Aunt Crazy Pants after her first round of chemo.

She’s a jazz hander too!

I was also going to manhandle the twins while in the Hawkeye state.

Princess B turning into a Queen.

Prince Charming.

An early morning flight makes for one tired cowgirl, as I can remember when I’ve stayed up until 4:30am but haven’t had to wake up at that ungodly hour since my mother was feeding me formula from bottles. Bleary eyed and in dire need of a mimosa, I couldn’t figure how the fuck to use the machine to check in my luggage.

Warning sign.

After being thisclose to a meltdown an agent came over and assisted my sorry ass, saying the machine was acting up (but I’m pretty sure it was user error). Bags checked and I was off to board a plane that was at full capacity with 170+ peeps. Just as we were about to taxi away from the gate, I heard a brief clicking sound followed by an announcement by the pilot that our plane had just been hit by lightning.

Yes, you heard me right. My motherfucking plane was hit by lightning. The wing of the plane to be precise and while this occurs in the air all of the time during storms, maintenance was going to take a peek to see if there was any damage. Funny thing is, it wasn’t even raining.

A beautiful day to be struck by lightning.

After deboarding that plane and hopping on another after an hour, as the aircraft was about to taxi away from the gate, the flight attendant came over the loudspeaker announcing “There are no more connecting flights to Des Moines today. You will be on your own for accomodations until tomorrow morning at 10am.”

Did I mention it was 9:30am when this was announced? So I’d basically have a 24 hour layover on my own dime. After five hours at the airport, being struck by lightning, boarding and deboarding two plans all before 10am, I ubered my ass home and hoped for good karma to come my way the next day.

Early birds hoping for good luck worms.

Next day was a flying success! I made it to Des Moines and to Aunt Crazy Pants’s palace just in time to make her my world famously bland potato soup.

Drunk chef.

Those who know me well can vouch for the severely deficient culinary skills I possess, so it was no surprise to my mother when I called to ask her how you know potatoes are done boiling. “When you can stick a fork in them.”

Fork me in the goat ass.

Fortunately, wine helped the ho-hum porridge seem a little more gourmet and was a hit with ACP.

Wine. Making dining fine since forever.

I was asking myself how my co-workers would function without me in the office and I got my answer early on Friday via an illustrated text message.

Reason 6,891,482 to inhale libations? Work environments that are bananas. Which is why it’s good to have a drinking buddy whom I left alone while in Iowa. Poor thing.

While my partner-in-work crime was cocktailing in solitude, I became the third wheel of my fave duo.

Trifecta of happy.

An impromptu family get together is always filled with shenanigans.

The family that parties together, hangovers together.

Especially when Aunt Crispie gets out her gigantic chalice and fills it with whatever liquor is lying around.

All business. Party business.

I was down with a glass of booze the size of my head ~~because it’s what I drink nightly~~ .

The photobomber gets bombed.

You know what’s the best idea ever after mixing martinis, Aunt Crispie’s concoction and Skinny Pirates?

Fireball shots, of course.

Which lead to a photo shoot, naturally.

Gisele and Derek Zoolander are for hire.

The rest of the evening followed as such…

…and I was in dire need of hydration the next morning.

Pretty as a trashy princess.

I had to quench my liver because I sweet talked two of my cousins into joining me at the Iowa State Fair – my mothership. My most favorite day of the year (aside from my birthday and Christmas). The day I open mouth and insert whatever is covered in fried batter.

Fair bound baby!

My cousin Smarty Pants has accompanied me to the fair more times than he cares to admit. Saying that he doesn’t love it is an understatement. I don’t think he necessarily hates it but last time he came with me, he read The Economist while I scavanged through the animal barns.

No reading material needed this year as I drug both of their asses everywhere and forced them to capture every Kodak moment.

Nothing compares to Smarty Pants and his favorite hog.

I traipsed them through the animal barns while cousin ConMan was bitching about having to take his 49th photo of the day.

Get in the picture and shut the fuck up.

I also made my two Iowa State Cyclone fans stop at the Varied Industries building to visit my beloved University of Iowa booth where I settled for a pic with a plastic Herky the Hawk mascot instead of the real deal.

Hawkeyes rule.

Not knowing how long I’d be at the fair (typically a 12 to 14 hour day for me but we got a late start), I forgot that I was wearing my prescription sunglasses as the sun went down. This worked out in my favor as our last stop was a walk down the bright lights of Midway to ride the double ferris wheel.

An asshat in night vision goggles.

A lady in line said that this was the last year for my fave ride but she couldn’t remember where she heard it. And I believe everything anyone tells me – including strangers. Can anyone from Iowa confirm this to be true?!

Say it ain’t so!

My sister texted to see if I was going to last until the 11pm fireworks.

You bet your ass I did.

Until next year…I’m on a strict diet of celery and Skinny Pirates.

Cheers!

CBXB

August 24, 2015 by Cowboys and Crossbones

Weekend Winks – Under the Weather Pussy

Now that I’m officially on my way to being a bona fide, living, breathing, crazy as hell cat lady after recently adopting two more felines, we’re all getting settled in our new routines at the mini manse.

Such as sitting on my face while I try to read before bed on Friday night.

Eddie making himself right at home.

While the start to my weekend low-key, I found myself really missing out on the fun I usually have making an ass out of myself at the Iowa State Fair. Luckily, Aunt Crazy Pants was able to be a substitution for me.

Aunt Crazy Pants doin' the ISF fair for me!

CBXB jazz hands for everyone!

Knowing the fair was hand crafting menu items just for me made it all the more difficult not to be there, typically eating my weight in battered and fried hot dogs within a mere 12 hours.

Oh the heartache.

However, I had way more serious matters to tend to. My sweet little baby bear has been feeling awfully ill lately and made his third trip to the vet in two weeks.

Make it stop already.

But no matter how unwell Ted is feeling, he can still be such a little bitch showing his obvious disdain for myself for taking him to the vet, the vet for accosting him in areas rather unmentionable and also because he’s just a plain old piss and moaner.

Telling me where to shove it with those eyes.

One of the many nicknames Tedstar has received is Teddy Krueger…which I was reminded of when I tried to help the vet (and the vet tech) hold his mouth open for an oral examination.

I feel like we have our Halloween costume nailed down for this year.

Hanging with fabulous friends helped boost my mood on Saturday evening, putting my anxiety and worry on a much needed back burner for a bit.

Saluting saddness away!

And of course wine always help sugar coat any situation with angst (in my case anyhow).

My version of water.

Also lifting my spirits this weekend was my niece Princess B, who decided to play in her mom’s makeup.

Totally achieved the smoky eye look.

And…totally achieving the Auntie CBXB look.

Speaking of looks, Prince B just about melts my heart every single time I glance his way. Especially when he’s just received a big boy haircut.

My version of McDreamy.

A relaxing Sunday on the lake seemed like the best idea ever, until I had one too many Wild Ginger alcoholic beers…

This could have been tranquil.

…and thought that spending 20 minutes on a bouncing tube, making my body contort into all kinds of positions only a Cirque du Soleil performer should be aware of was a better way to take it easy.

No, I can’t move today.

Realizing that I may be forever walking with a cane due to my boozy boating decisions, I tried to unwind (and untwist muscles that I never knew I had) by soaking in a bubbly tub. Except Clark and Eddie had other ideas.

Yes, one ended up in the tub.

I was able to wrap the weekend up knowing that Ted was catching up on rest even though Clark really, REALLY wanted to cuddle (even after 428 warnings from a grouchy sick pussy not to).

Ted’s new best friend – whether he likes it or not.

As the week moves forward, we’ll be taking all of the good karma we can get as Teddy goes in to see the vet this Thursday yet again.

I’ll be wearing gloves up to my elbows this time.

Cheers!

CBXB

Cowboys and Crossbones

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Tag Archives: iowa state fair

Too In Love to Let It Go

Fix You

When you try your best

But you don’t succeed

When you get what you want

But not what you need

When you feel so tired

But you can’t sleep

Stuck in reverse

And high up above

Or down below

When you’re too in love

To let it go

But if you never try

You’ll never know

Just what you’re worth

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And we did try to fix you

Tears stream

Down your face

When you lose something you cannot replace

Tears stream

Down your face

When you lose something you can’t replace

Tears stream

Down your face

When you lose something you cannot replace

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And we don’t have to fix you

Love you Aunt Nancy.

One More Time, Mom

My Gma the Great

Weekend Winks – On a Wing and a Prayer

Weekend Winks – Under the Weather Pussy