January 22, 2022 by Cowboys and Crossbones

The Birthday of Your Bestie

The birth of Sister CBXB was the best thing that has ever happened to me. I didn’t know it at the time but I needed a yin to my yang, a Meredith to my Christina, a Nicky to my Paris, a Sasha to my Malia, a Serena to my Venus, a Solange to my Beyoncé.

However, we all know I love a glaring light on myself (also known as a spotlight), so don’t think I wasn’t pissed when bébé Sister CBXB was showered with gifts for just appearing out of what seemed from nowhere (I know Mama CBXB will beg to differ, delivering an 11 pound baby). I remember our neighbors Winnie and Clyde came to visit and while everyone coo’d and ooh’d over the bundle of joy, I got a bag of underwear. I think that may have been the first time I thought “what the fuck?” to myself.

I was always quick to remind folks that I was still around while they were admiring new life.

*Gpa Morris ALWAYS had her binky (it’s on his right finger). And she always whined for it.*

I was quickly schooled that two is better than one. I had someone to boss around, throw the blame on and found celebrating, well, everything was better with my forever plus one.

*So many things to cheers to over the years.*

*Easter celebrations from Wonder Girls to Wonder Women.*

*Snow fort celebrating compliments of Dada CBXB and Uncle LewAss with the Morris Boys.*

*She’s always a fab sport when I wanna do a celebratory marathon day at the Iowa State Fair.*

*Never not fun at an Iowa Hawkeye tailgate.*

We’ve always known how to say buh byeeeeee to the prior year, letting our hair down, throwing our hands up with a side of snacks we never let go to waste. You haven’t really lived if you’ve never dipped a pizza roll in Rotel cheese dip. Follow us for more classy tips.

*Who needs more than two to ring in a new year?*

Then, she met my future BIL (bro-in-law) and we had fun ushering him into trashtacular new year’s fun.

BIL was always a good sport, even when we put on booth concerts at local bars.

*Never a better duo screaming LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER!*

Our audience was always so enthralled they could hardly keep their eyes open,

Before popping the question, I’m sure BIL had to consider what he was getting along with Sister CBXB.

*HI. It’s me. I will be your forever third wheel.*

BIL put a ring on it anyhow and a round of celebrating properly ensued.

Bachelorette shenanigans were nothing but drunken fun. So much so, we had our folks in tow.

*Whose dad doesn’t bachelorette party it up?*

The big day came and it was so apparent how happy and excited she was to start this next chapter of life.

As newlyweds, she rang the bell with her new hubs, sealing the deal at the Little Brown Church. A photo caught my thoughts…thank fuck it’s not me, it’s you!

*The forever and always single, cray cray cat lady.* *Not mad about it.*

Although it was her wedding day, I somehow still managed to bring out her sisterly love in a way.

This life that’s sometimes a party just kept getting greater. Sister CBXB and BIL welcomed twins and the festivities and hoopla got bigger and better.

Seeing her kill it as a mom is no surprise but fuck – no one lied when they say time flies.

How in the actual fuck are these two already nine?!

I’m forever indebted to her for taking any partnering up and kid pressures off of me. I get to be the outrageous aunt, thankfully.

Sister CBXB has put up with me her entire life. Often reacting with the “holy fuck, did she just say/do that?” face in her hands of hilarious embarrassment to be related to yours truly.

She never had any choice in the matter.

No option but to be my forced side kick.

Sisters are a special crew. We lucked out having Mama CBXB and Aunt Crazy Pants as an example of that extraordinary bond. The millions of times we laughed until our stomachs hurt and tears ran down the legs of the older duo, are some of the best times I have tucked away in my memory bank.

My sis has often carried me through life in fab times and the horribly bad. Maybe I’m a reason her back hurts? That can’t be, rather, I taught her how to lift with her legs, right? RIGHT?!

I’m always helping her put her Michelle Obama arms to great use.

Even though it looks like we could possibly be inbred in the photo below, I know she’s always got my back and me hers, no matter the woe. But for real, why does it look like we’re posing for a prom pic? We were on the lookout for Dada CBXB to arrive at his surprise party.

Sister CBXB has never met a cake that didn’t meet the inside of her belly.

So today, eat all of the sugary confections with a side of that fancy bubbly!

Thanks for always being the straw holding this camel’s back.

I can’t wait until this cunt Rona is gone and I can come maul you and force you to carry me around for fun. You’re the best of the best, crème de la crème, I hope this birthday celebration grants you with everything you deserve. I’m forever thrilled that I get to be your sister. Thanks for being my bestie.

Cheers, Bitch!

Love ya, Mean it.

December 8, 2020 by Cowboys and Crossbones

The Yule Blog of 2020 Year in Review

What in the actual fuck 20fucking20?

Who could have predicted the surprising mess you would be? In honor of the longest, shortest, most eventful, confusing, defining, emotional, true color revealing, nothing surprises anyone anymore shitshow of a time, I’m doing a yule blog year in review. Starting with this overview, I’ll be breaking my “what-fucking-day-is-it-do-I-have-enough-toilet-paper-do-you-care-enough-about-others-to-follow-three-simple-rules-an-alarmingly-large-portion-of-Americans-are-in-a-cult-like-state-when-did-we-become-so-divided-did-that-just-really-happen-where-have-you-been-maskless-how-is-it-already-december” year down month by month in upcoming posts.

The eve of the new year, December 31, 2019…how the start of a brand new decade – let alone fresh year – felt exhilarating!

New decade prep.

The years between 2010 and 2020 were beyond rough. I started that decade leaving an emotionally and mentally taxing relationship where I wasn’t appreciated for me being me, moved in with my parents as an independent adult for almost 365 days and sandwiched in between those years, my immediate family crumbled before my eyes, I was sexually harassed at work and lost a career that took years to build, I was raped by my best friend’s boyfriend, I gained half of my pre-Rapegate bodyweight in the following four years, found myself abandoned by what I thought was a tight circle of girlfriends, the electoral college system in America yet again granted a victory to a person who didn’t win the popular vote, THE furball love of my life, Ted E. Bear (and star of this blog) passed away three weeks before I lost my Aunt Crazy Pants to fucking cancer.

Ted. Teddy Bear. Mr. Ted E. Bear. Tedstar. Teddy Krueger. How I miss you.

Fuck, during that decade I was ALWAYS ready for a motherfucking new year.

So young. So innocent. Not knowing the fuckery that was to come a knocking.

Byeeee 2014!

GTFO 2016. Worst.Year.of.My.Life.

…looking toward 2018?

You get the (literal) picture(s). Of course fabulous happenstances were included in the shit sandwich of a decade. The absolute best was the grand appearance of the two not-so-little anymore loves of my life. Sister CBXB and my BIL gifted our family with twins!

The introduction of a lifetime.

I lost my goddamned mind in 2016 after Rapegate one day at PetSmart and adopted three cats at one time.

The Pussy Posse was born that very day.

Princess Elsa Pants of the Mini Manse, Ruby Sue and Rocky.

We’ve since added three more pussies and a Pomeranian.

Fabio, Scooch, Prissy and Girlie Girl have rounded out The Pussy Posse nicely.

Yes. Yes I do realize I will be single forever and I’m OK with it. I also love candles, reading and watch The Bachelor franchise in a wedding veil I found in my dumpster. I’m just living my best life authentically, OK?

This decade, I found my true ride or die people. In person – and virtually. I’ve never “met” some of my most cherished friends who live all over the world. The outpouring of solid, lasting support after sharing my Rapegate story and its profoundly life altering aftermath is what kept me breathing and why I’m alive to type this today.

I sent out the S.O.S. and you answered in droves.

Another reason I still live and breathe is Superhero Sheila. My therapist. My literal lifesaver. We met days after I was raped and she will always be in my life. Thankful isn’t a strong enough word but then again, there isn’t one that exists to describe how grateful I am for her. I can’t take a picture of Superhero Sheila for confidentiality reasons but I named my new car after her. No. I’m not kidding.

OK, so I may be more excited about my Sheila than the actual Sheila but how many peeps can say they have a car named after them?

The excitement of a new decade dawning was cause for fabulous celebrating on my leopard couch December 31, 2019. Out with the awful old and in with all of the brand new!

It’s finally here!

Little did I know the entire world would soon collectively feel like…

The start of THE shitshow of all shitshows was just around the corner.

What kind of badassery do you think January 2020 bestowed to me? We shall soon see.

Cheers!

CBXB

Buy Me a Drink

December 30, 2016 by Cowboys and Crossbones

Sayonara 2016

Know anyone who had a ridiculously fabulous 2016?

Me either.

Not to say great things didn’t happen for folks in this dumpster fire of a year but seriously, although my Gma used to say, “don’t wish your life away,” I couldn’t think of anything more that I would wish for than the goddamn clock to strike midnight on December 31, 2016.

Yes. How we all feel about this past fucking year.

While I kicked my year of with bad shit happening to a good person (yours truly) last January, there have been highlights and honest-to-goodness reminders as to why I wished I was a mother fucking super hero (or ass kicking princess).

I tried taking a cue from Elsa early on…

But I’m not a sexy smoker (see below). Nor do I know how to inhale. And lastly, I hold grudges like my net worth (let’s be real…I’m elated when I have triple digits in my checking account, so not really saying much), therefore this wasn’t going to be my outlet to let 2016 the fuck go. Also, it was just February.

Trying to heed advice of my fave, fearless lighting designer, Hawaiian Housewife (I know you’re rolling your eyes to the back of your skull M), who seems to let any/everything roll down her back (except puke – in which case she likes to displace on moi) with her famous line of…

Well, I didn’t try a bag of dicks per se but instead used an Iowa ear of sweet corn.

While delicious, this didn’t help in the hate that seethed out of my soul for the year of all shitacular years.

So what did I do? I ~~sprinted~~, ~~ran~~, happened to be at PetSmart on an adopt-a-pussy Saturday sponsored by Sweet Faces Cat and Kitten Rescue (yes, I am now officially the face of their rescue and I will give you an autograph) and I did what any sane person does. I picked out three cats to add to my brood because in the end, you really can buy love.

And in the end, you now have four feline mouths to feed.

Plus I gotta fill the tiny yapper of my Ewok resembling chug, Precious.

But in the end, I got my loving therapy through this….

All of the extra feline lovin’ seemed to help my in heart failure main squeeze, Mr. Ted E. Bear rekindle his love for life. And that made me feel like one extremely lucky lady – even though I will forever be recognized as the crazy Nashville cat lady. I give zero fucks for that title if this little pussy can still be by my side daily.

Friends tried to help by burning some of my past hurts away, while I ignited flames with lighter fluid.

The fire didn’t really cure anything BUT this shirt did reflect my outlook…

So I’d call that a win-win, wouldn’t you?

Being involved in a traumatic, life changing event, I enlisted the help of a f.a.b.u.l.o.u.s. therapist that I regularly see on Thursdays (#therapythursdays anyone?). Upon completion of sessions, copious amounts of vino is required. And while I don’t mind drinking with my five (yes I said fucking FIVE fur balls), my sister and gusband (gay husband) are more than ready to join me in Iowa and Missouri, respectively, when I need the company.

My kind of pour.

Over the course of this year, I’ve let my pride of self-worth sit on a back burner and simmer (due to uncontrollable reactions to aforementioned bad shit happening). With the help of friends who aren’t afraid to tackle the CBXB monster and family who’ve dealt with me forever, I was forced to not only wash my hair but show face at my fancy salon (with my fabulous chug in tow, of course) to get my pink rejuvenated and remain blonde.

Those same folks about keeled over seeing me in flats and also forced me into my pre-2016 daily shoes…stilettos. I mean, I’ve always been known for my practicality.

Counting on those who know you best, I hung in like a champ for my Iowa Hawkeyes football tailgates – and kept the family tradition of moonshine touchdown shots alive with Dada CBXB.

Cheering it on with family as often as I could.

Speaking of cheering, you all have sent nothing but positivity, well wishes, fab karma, and outrageous juju my Aunt Crazy Pants’s way after her cancer diagnosis this summer. While she’s my end-all-be-all-twin, she’s still kicking some fucking cancer ass. And that’s the way we prefer.

Aside from my family and very, very close circle of now known friends (funny how tragedy, traumatic experiences, etc. leads you to your faithful peeps) these two twin monkeys have done nothing but keep my rails from coming fully off the track. I mean, look at their faces. How lucky am I? Even if it was the most dismal year in the history of histories in my lifetime?

Speaking of rails on the track, while my job is typically a full-on shit show, I have people surrounding me in the office that are full of life, love and overall kindness. Their humor, wit and ability to deal with crazy on a daily basis has made my 2016 a better place.

What made this year – day after day – hour upon hour – minute upon minute – second upon second – all the more difficult was the constant issue of rape culture and the shaming of women, men and any human who has suffered this intolerable situation. From Brock Turner getting a fucking six month sentence after raping a woman in public on a campus, to the published accounts of victims reading letters to their accused in court, to a fucking presidential nominee with 12 – yes 12 women accusing him of inappropriate conduct…one being recorded on tape resulting in a TV anchor’s dismissal from a network by simply being in the situation and not stopping it.

But then, America voted that man president. Women I know voted for that man. Women I know that have daughters voted for that man. Men I know who have daughters voted for that man. Why? It’s beyond me.

Not only does he “grab pussy” because he’s a “star” but he’s totally going to “Make America Great Again.”

I’m all for voting and standing by your decisions. And I’m also not saying I loved the other choice on the ballot but fuck. Nominating a male chauvinist pig (among many other indecencies as a human being) as POTUS made the end of the year almost unbearable as a person in my standing.

This year has proven unbelievable in the most horrific ways. Unbelievable in the most humane ways. Unbelievable in the amount of support I have garnered at the hands of acquaintances, friends, social media buddies, family – the outpouring was (and still is) something that I can’t even still comprehend in the best way possible. To that, I am grateful. To that, I dedicate my first bottle (of tonight) champs to you.

I will put on my finest threads and ride out the rest of the hours 2016 has to offer.

I will most likely headbang my way into 2017, giving zero fucks about the neckache I will endure.

Because if you are reading this, you have aided me through the darkest 365 day chapter of my life thus far. And I love you for being there digitally, emotionally, physically, snail mailingly, social medially, FaceTimingly, textingly, etc. You have no idea how much one message, like, encouraging word can carry me through days.

The motto I have stuck to and lived by every moment of 2016…

And now, it’s time for a fresh start. Not to say I – or anyone else – is immune to bad shit. It happens. It’s life and makes up the DNA of our souls. But sometimes enough is enough.

I say enough.

Sayonara 2016.

FUCK YEAH 2017!

Cheers!

CBXB

December 31, 2015 by Cowboys and Crossbones

SUCK IT 2015

Kiss my ass 2015.

How I felt almost 365 full days.

You know those years that seem to fly by, where you find yourself in disbelief that it’s time to ring in a new one? Well, 2015 wasn’t one of those for me. It felt that every 24 hours might as well be a 24 year period. Of course there were good days – and even weeks. But bad juju was most definitely in my corner at almost every turn.

Everything I touched turned to shit.

It wasn’t any one thing but a slow build up of moments and major life losses that can’t be undone. My immediate family has been turned upside down, as I’ve stood by as a mere spectator with no ability to change the outcome. I lost a few friends early this year for unexplained reasons (a lawsuit was even threatened…and I’m not even on any Real Housewife of Bravo program!) my Gma passed away from a quick illness in June, I suddenly lost my two year old pussy New Cat in July and the fur ball love of my life Ted fell seriously ill unexpectedly in August (and thankfully is on the mend after what a year of in state college tuition would cost – but he’s SO worth it, ya dig?).

Farewell to Gma the Great.

Farewell to my fave photogenic tuxedo cat, Newy.

You know, the little shit who would never ever even let me take a piss alone.

Lavatory Lovin’

His Royal Highness, the ever dramatic Tedstar, who spent two weeks in a pet hospital ICU (mostly because he refused to eat and take a shit, therefore stalling his release back to the mini manse).

Pissed the vet didn’t have a pink wrap.

In 2015 I also found myself being taken advantage of in personal ways – you know when you’re the emotional stability or constant support for someone and then they become ghosts when the favor is needed in return?

Ghost this.

In my professional life, it’s been stunning to find out where I really stood with close friends and colleagues over the last six months. Two weeks ago I found myself divorcing the company I thought I would be with for the remainder of my working years.

Not a situation that bloody Marys and Tylenol can’t fix.

Over the past three months, I’ve been called names…loving and thoughtful names such as “catty, scowly faced, bitchy” and my personal favorite, “a fucking whore,” all by folks I thought cared/liked/loved me. (Truth – I can be bitchy when a situation arises where that trait is needed.)

But you know…haters can suck it.

Or I’ll cut a bitch.

I’ve arrived at a point (and thankfully it’s the last day of the year) where nothing could really surprise me and I am just over it. Therefore, I have been wearing my feelings on my phone sleeve.

Seems appropriate, yes?

But with a new year just hours away, I’m excited for the feeling of a fresh beginning in many areas of my life. And, while this year will go down in the books as one I never want to repeat, it’s shown me the resilience that life requires, the humor one must keep to be able to laugh at the most ridiculous of situations and thankfulness for those who truly love me for being me. Classiness and all.

Love me, love my trashiness.

So to the family, friends, fellow bloggers, readers, acquaintances and co-workers who’ve been around this year – I thank you from the bottom of my heart. 2016, I’m ready for you full-bore.

Ready to raise some serious hell.

Who’s with me?

CHEERS to the new year!

January 9, 2015 by Cowboys and Crossbones

Merry Moments

I’m baaaack!

Miss me? Because I missed you as I greeted 2015 with about ten extra holiday pounds and 40,401 less brain cells.

Hello 2015!

While on a blogging break, I hung with my two favorite pussies more than I care to admit in Christmas pajamas.

Yep. Still a crazy cat lady.

I played reindeer games in hopes that Saint Nicholas would soon make an appearance.

All dolled up with no Santa in sight.

Ted nestled down in his Juicy Couture Pussy Palace while visions of life without New Cat danced around in his furry head.

Nestled all snug in his Juicy Couture Pussy Palace.

Seriously contemplating how to get rid of NC. I raise sweet cats.

A key for Santa was accompanied by my favorite treat.

Who wants milk when you can have Captain?

Christmas morning found Princess B playing her kick ass guitar from Auntie CBXB that makes all kinds of loud, annoying noise.

Rock star in the making.

While Prince B got his very own puppy from me.

I almost wrapped up New Cat but settled on this instead.

And Princess B was so upset that she didn’t receive a stuffed dog too, she taught my mom a less by punching her in the face.

BItch slapping Mama CBXB for not gifting her a stuffed puppy.

WHERE’S MY PUPPY GIGI?!

And so she stole Prince B’s gift.

Mine. All mine.

While I stole all of the chips and AE French Onion dip in the house.

‘Tis the season of overeating….

Which came in handy as I was leaving for Miami the following day.

Toes in the sand with my chip and dip gut.

But I visited the local Jewish Community Center where I tried to work off my Christmas caloric intake but couldn’t figure out how to use the damn equipment.

Workout fail.

Trying to shed ten pounds in one morning didn’t really work out in my favor but that was OK as I was too busy kissing 2014 goodbye to care.

I love you Captain.

I also got to hang with some real hipsters who obviously got all dolled up for the big night.

He had chips and dip over the holiday too.

And as it came down to the final seconds of 2014, I celebrated in my normal subtle way.

Double horns for double NYE excitement!

There was much to anticipate in the early days of 2015 – like one more Iowa Hawkeye football game. And while I wasn’t with my family to celebrate in our traditional game day ways, we still ‘tailgated’ together.

Representing the Hawks on the beach.

Overalls on in Tennessee.

Preparations for the game being made in Iowa by Prince B.

While Princess B could give two shits about the upcoming game, as she was still busy with her brother’s puppy.

When the ominous clouds rolled in over the beach, I shoulda known what was going to happen as the Hawks have had a piss poor season. Even though we were playing an equally dismal team, the University of Tennessee Volunteers, I just knew it would be a good game, forgetting the fact that I attended one of the top party schools in the nation (according to a 2013 report). So I suppose fun in the sun got the better of my team.

Lightning did not strike for my Hawkeyes.

After a 21-0 Vols lead in the first quarter I was suddenly thrilled that I didn’t make any bets with the Tennessee fans around me. Finally in the third quarter of the game Iowa scored but still managed to make the Tennessee Vols look like a Superbowl team.

A much needed celebration touchdown shot.

The Vols had not won a post season game since 2008 and I was less than thrilled that my Hawkeyes were able to grant them a big W with a final score of 45-28. And so I did what any fan would do after losing a hideously named Taxslayer Bowl…

Drowning in my salt water sorrows.

Upon my arrival back to Nashville, I was greeted with fuck you flowers from my buddy and Vols fan, Camo.

Greeted back to Nashville with Tennessee colored flowers compliments of my buddy and Vols fan Camo. So sweet.

A masked insult in a lovely bouquet.

And I thought maybe 2015 wasn’t starting off on the right foot…

Maybe we didn't start the new year off on the right foot afterall...

Um, I think I miss you 2014.

Until I ran into my best friend at Dalts, which made everything right in the world again.

Skinny Pirates to the rescue!

So now I am back in love with the idea of a new year and I plan to kick 2015’s ass.

I hope you do, too.

CBXB

Cowboys and Crossbones

All things that kick ass!

Tag Archives: New Year’s Eve

The Birthday of Your Bestie

The Yule Blog of 2020 Year in Review

Sayonara 2016

SUCK IT 2015

Merry Moments