merry christmas kiddos

I'm going to be honest, I thought about doing a Pinteresty-lovey-dovey-oh-how-adorbs type Christmas card this year. We clean up nice.

Picture it: Snow gently falling as we tenderly embrace along the lake shore. A sweet kiss on the forehead with the city lights twinkling behind us. Holding hands and looking backwards over our shoulders while cheesing for the camera.  Or maybe a smile-worthy, heart warming mishap with a string of lights, tangling us together into a PG-13 kiss.

Then I realized that's silly. We don't skip around town gazing into each other's eyeballs. Well, not all the time.... and besides, that's what everyone else is doing. Which is lame. Because I've walked around and I hardly ever see people striking a traditional Christmas card pose during my day to day activities.

So I present to you, Ben & Brit's real life Christmas card(s):

cats wearing clothes, cell phone, wine, mess.

Merry Christmas :)

fa la la la la

la la la la

xoxo, b

turkey recap

Pre-Turkey Tuesday:

My last day at the jewelry store. Smash made me a pink sash and a glittery pink crown that I wore the majority of the day like a preschool princess. Roughly 1.7 million things went wrong and required me to fix them, so I didn't get much time to just hang out with my coworkers. After the store closed at 7, Smash and Co. popped open a bottle of bubbly and gave my "eugoogly"...which I had jokingly requested. Or not jokingly. After the beautiful eugoogly, we headed to Mexico for dinner and dranks.

I'm horrible, awful, no-good at having things hit me right away. Seriously. Which is part of the reason that I generally don't get too emotional......until a week and a half later when Ben finds me on the couch with a cup of coffee and mascara-face. As a whole, I'm 100% time-consuming and tiring to understand... literally a waltzing contradiction.

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Turkey Time:

Having two families too close to each other makes for filling holidays. Turkey day was no exception. A late lunch turned into dinner at my parent's house, and after wiping the gravy from our faces we were at Ben's side of the family enjoying desserts and falling asleep on the couch.
Unlike last year, no one stood up and announced any life-altering news. 

Also unlike last year, Ben and I did zero Black Friday shopping. Instead, we slept in and I telephoned my mom (who was downstairs) to bring us a couple of coffees in bed. She said no.
In my defense, 1: It worked the last time 2: At least I tried and 3: Brilliant idea, right?

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Saturday & Sunday:

To make the next tidbit make sense, I need to confess that Ben and I are raising spoiled thug cats. Long haired, fluffy, spoiled, social butterfly thugs named Paris and Nicole.

These little thugs stayed home alone for 2 nights while we went home for Thanksgiving. 

When we got home to the apartment Saturday afternoon, we found half eaten cookies all over the kitchen and scattered around the living room floor. The cute ceramic food bowl with the the painted blue script of Tuna Breath was mercilessly thrown in true riot state into the mecca of the chaos. Clumps of long black hair adorned the once cozy home that had- from all accounts- transformed into a gladiator coliseum only hours earlier when the last bit of cat food was nibbled and the undeniable possibility of certain death first crept to attention.

So we fed the monsters, and they fell asleep purring and cuddled up together. Because in all likelihood they are also un-medicated bipolars as well.

And now it's officially time for Christmas!
Which means Christmas music, Christmas decorations, Christmas cats, Christmas everything at all hours of the day and night. Christmas!!

xoxo, b

brit-sit

I had no Brit-sitter this week. 

Which is good, because I've been very busy working two jobs.

And which is bad because I've spent an unhealthy amount of time talking to my cats and growing extremely accustomed to their strange behavior. Trying to climb on my back while I'm sitting upright and typing, trying to climb on my lap while I'm using the.... ahem ladies room, eating a cardboard box for the hell of it, punching me in the face in the morning because they are channeling Mike Tyson, and general clingy-ness, snoring like dogs, purring all.the.time., and yip-yapping are 100% normal to me now. Sure, it was upwards of 86% normal to me before, but those monsters really beefed up their crazy and are dedicated to making me feel like a spazzy old cat lady..... and it's working.

No Brit-sitter is also bad because there is no one to stop me from having a package of bacon, 2 apples, miscellaneous Halloween candy, and a hefty portion of wine for dinner. I'm thinking Ben would not be too happy with me, since he has vocalized concerns over my odds of making it to 30............but I can rationalize just about anything. Take the above mentioned fantastic dinner for example: Meat, good. Period. Apples=fruit=good. Candy=chocolate=derived from a plant=plants=good. Wine=grapes=fruit with antioxidants=good. Throw "antioxidants" into any food-related nonsense sentence and it's like a free pass. 

Ya know what, I did have a Brit-sitter tonight by the name of Marshall's Store. Which means someone has a new pair of boots, among other things.

Ya win some and ya lose some. 

Ben's home tomorrow, and done traveling until February or something like that. Whoot whoooooot

xoxo, b

my party has a promo trailer

Our Halloween barn party-- Mischief & Mayhem-- has its own promo trailer:   Video

Because I can't think of any reason that a holiday party wouldn't have a promotional video distributed three weeks prior to the event. Seriously.

Invite only.

xoxo, b

Drama Queen

This may be my final day of life.

Ben infected me with whatever disease he contracted last week. This is the same disease from which I lovingly nursed him back to health by providing orange juice, vitamin C cough drops, making homemade chicken noodle soup, giving back rubs... basically being the best damn wife ever. And that little twerp repaid me with Sickness 2.0. 

Since it's HIS turn to play nurse, then by default it's MY turn to play the dramatic patient. And that's a role I was born to play. 

One line that I'm test driving for future prego-related instances is "WHYYYY did you do this to me?!" Initial studies show that when paired with sad eyes it is quite an effective way of receiving food/cuddles/forehead kisses. On the other hand, the blowing nose/coughing combo while trying to laugh at Netflix shows results in concerned looks....and Ben "going to check something" in the living room/kitchen/bathroom/closet for 20 minutes. It's a work in progress. 

husband's shopping trip...

If I'm going to be sick (even though I drank gallons of orange juice and practiced ninja moves to keep it away, so I'm not sure what's going on here), then I'm glad it's someone like Ben helping me get better. Because he knows that when you're feeling sick, you should have cookies for breakfast (even though my cat Paris nabbed a cookie chunk out of my hand and ate it in front of me) and snack on candy corn throughout the day. At least that's what I've concluded from his shopping trip last night. That, and what kind of cats eat cookies? 

xoxo, b

2 years & unsolicited advice

I had a vivid revelation of awesomeness the other day. In order to reflect upon our last two years of marriage, I thought Ben and I should answer similar open ended questions concerning stuff like what's changed, what's the same, where do you see us in 5 years, why isn't there any good beer left in the fridge, and what's for dinner.... but I digress.  

So I cornered him. Started asking him questions. And he, like a wild animal, tried to escape. My revelation of awesomeness was going nowhere, and I was forced to shut it down after there was way too much interest in describing in detail the only thing he believes to have changed in the last two years: that I've farted in front of him. There were references to Nazi gas chambers, dying beasts, and the end of days before he finally concluded, gave a satisfied smile and nod, and shut his mouth.

First off, I'm a trophy wife wanna-be, I don't fart. That's something boys do. 

And second, I don't fart. 

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So in lieu of my vivid revelation of awesomeness questionnaire, 

here are my little bits of unsolicited advice/knowledge nuggets on the matter:

Your husband will be the single most annoying person in your life. He throws his dirty socks at the cats. He is addicted to checking sport updates and stock prices on his smart phone. He forgets to put leftovers in the fridge. He gets moody when he is having what I can only assume is a man-period. He still has not figured out how to work the laundry hamper, despite intense one-on-one training sessions with the Rocky theme song playing in the background. He strolls into the bathroom and asks what you're doing when you're trying to use the toilet or shave your legs in the shower because he doesn't fully understand privacy. And sometimes he flat out disagrees with you about severely important things like "what should we do tonight?" But what sets the husband apart from any other run-of-the-mill annoying roommate? It's that you care way too much about his opinion and your opinion matching up. You want him to see things the way you do. Exactly. You want him to think the way you do. Exactly. You can't give the generic "whatever I could care less what you think" response to him and de-friend him on Facebook because you do care what he thinks, and he lives with you. He's an individual with his own opinions and thought process... which is so annoying. 

Your husband will be the single most amazing person in your life. He wakes you up with breakfast in bed most Sundays. He swaps back rubs with you before falling asleep at night. He's funny and spazzy and doesn't mind that you sing off-key during car concerts. He let's you do your own weird thing, and encourages you to be your awkward self. He takes you to the zoo, even though you've gone at least one gagillion times already. He lets you have the bigger piece of steak or eat more of the cookie chunks from container of ice cream. He makes excuses to drive 30 minutes with you to your job on the weekend so that at the very least you can see each other for the hour worth of driving there and back. He just gets you, even when you don't get yourself. As a self-proclaimed commitment phobic person (it took 7 or 8 years before I power-walked down the aisle), my Oprah ah-ha moment was when I realized that yeah, I could live without him... But I didn't want to. And even though I allegedly hyperventilated and had to take a moment to sit (not run, even though there were bets placed) before my I-do's, that 24 hour period of time is a drip in the leaky faucet of life. A very expensive drip. 

And everyday since then has been a bit of an adventure. 

xoxo, b

the ugly cry

first business trip

 Ben departed for New York this morning sometime around 4am. I'm not 100% sure on the exact time because, hell, it was 4am and frankly, I was ugly crying. No single glistening tear on this cheek. No, no. More like a pitiful pajama-clad, bedhead me standing lost in the living room trying to keep it together. I don't know about the rest of the population, but when I'm tired and sad my ugly cry is straight out of an 80's horror film. To hold back tears I hold my breath, my stomach clenches up, and my face crinkles and conforms into ways previously unknown to mankind. The breath-holding causes red-eye bulging and a series of odd choking gasps, boogers, and tears.  To top it off, muttering things between gasps like "You look so handsome! I'm going to miss you so much! The cats are mean and punch me while I sleep!" and I've successfully brought a whole new level of sexy. 

Paris & Nicole helping Ben pack

So my husband's gone for Monday through Thursday night. Seriously, not that long at all. Especially since he rounded up some "brit-sitters" to keep me company this week. I have a busy week. And we are leaving for our two year anniversary road trip on Friday night. That's exciting.... I could totally Google things for us to do.... we have plane tickets and no plans. Just the way it should be!

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WI State Fair

Ben and I went to the Wisconsin State Fair on Saturday. It was glorious and sunny and warm and wonderful. We tried loaded potatoes, funnel cake, ice cream, craft beer, did a wine tasting, and rode the sky glider from one end of the park to the other. We also found the barn with the ducks, but the place was way too crowded for me to steal one. 

riding the sky glider

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And here is a photo of Paris wearing a bikini. 

She's trying to break into the cruel world of swimsuit modeling.

I think she looks fantastic.

Paris in a bikini

xoxo, b

While Ben's away the ladies play...

Imma be shaking my ass you gonna be licking your lips. Imma be Imma be Imma be going to New York for work! WHAT! :D That's right the Big City! HOLLLA! I leave Monday morning and come back Thursday night. I'm scared the 3 ladies of the house are going to get into all kinds of trouble without me here to keep them in line. I'll come home and hell will of been unleashed in all its fury on my nice little apartment. Just imagine coming home to a dead cat that choked on one of the fish and Brit sitting in the middle of the apartment brushing it saying play with me. :/ You think I'm joking but its a 50/50 chance it will happen.

King Of the Castle, Ben

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    ~~(~~   \  |\."./|  /   ~~)~~
       ~(~~  \/ _:':_ \/  ~~)~   
         ~~( /=<o> <o>=\ )~~_____
            "\==  Y  ==/"'`      `.
             /`-._^_.-'\     ,-  . \
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            \  \.___./  /_ _\     / /
             `, \   / ,'  (,-----' /
               ""' '""     '------'

trophy wife

I'm under the impression that I should be a trophy wife.

I'll rock my hot pink heels and a dress and sashay around department stores and go out for lunch and wear too much perfume and develop a fake laugh so I can say things like "daaaaaarrrrling, this afternoon mojito is absolutely faaaaaabulous!" Then I'll twirl around and waltz home where I will pat my fluffy kitties on their fluffy heads and make a three course dinner. Soon, Ben will burst through the door, set down his briefcase and in a very deep voice exclaim, "Honey! I'm home!" He would then immediately pick me up, twirl me around, and give me a passionate kiss on the lips. Obviously, I would be drinking wine by this point in the evening. He would then compliment me until I beg him to stop because dinner is getting cold.

 

 

In immediate hindsight of the directly above mentioned story, there's no way in Hades that I could be a trophy wife:

 

 

- I can only wear my heels for short periods of time. If I sashay, my feet pay. Maybe I could be a barefoot/flip flop wearing trophy wife?

 

- I have not met a department store that I have not felt overwhelmed and/or lost in. Literally lost. It's like a black hole maze of different designers and there is no way to safely escape in a timely manner. It's like ADHD materialized.

 

- I could do lunch. I like lunch that other people make for me.

 

- Fake laughing makes me feel like I have internal bleeding. Super annoying, internal bleeding.

 

- Not a fan of mojitos. Do trophy wives drink beer and like to BBQ? Is that a thing?

 

- I do enjoy a good twirling about... especially in a sundress. That part can stay. I'd have to bring my A-game for leg shaving on a regular basis.

 

- Our fluffy kitties are experiencing their teenage angst years. They've really made a name for themselves as the apex predators of this apartment. They are spazzy, destructive monsters. Sitting pretty for a pat on the head is not something I imagine happening in the foreseeable future.

 

- When Ben comes home, he does give me a hug and kiss. There is no picking up and twirl around hug and kiss though. This must change immediately.

 

- I need more not-cheap wine. Or craft beer. Again, can a trophy wife drink beer right from the bottle? Or is it strictly a swirl your wine type deal?

 

-And the final reason, I require a variety of multiple activities to fill my day. Otherwise, I come up with "great ideas" that I try and execute myself. Past examples have included dying my hair dark brown, rearranging the entire apartment, ripping apart our closet and putting it back together, chopping some bangs, impromptu painting, highlighting my hair and the middle of the cat's forehead, cooking disasters, trying to give the cats a bath, organizing our storage locker, Pinterest DIY projects, and donating things before Ben finds out they're missing.

 

 

It's a work in progress. Time for some imitation crab and fruit juice.

 

Trophy wife out.

 

 

xoxo, b

summerfest 2013

I happened upon Summerfest 2013 on Saturday, and a little country concert performed by Thomas Rhett, Jake Owen, and Jason Aldean.

And it was fantastic.

Once the concert was over, we left the Marcus amphitheater and headed towards the chaos that was an overcrowded Summerfest grounds. The original game plan was that Ben was going to pick us up or we would cab it back to my place. Well Ben was zonked out and there were no cabs since hello this is Milwaukee and all 27 cabs were occupied-o by the time everyone and their aunt were busy leaving. So we walked to my apartment. MapQuest tells me it is approximately 2.6 miles along the river walk. I believe it.

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 Fireworks tomorrow night in Milwaukee for the Fourth of July.


'Merica!

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Three years ago, on July 5th (because he was told holidays & birthdays were not allowed),
 Ben asked me to marry him. So sweet.


However, I just want to take the time to reiterate the fact that Jessica and I had spent the entirety of July 4th sitting on a front porch wearing flannel, sipping sweet tea and lemonade from mason jars, listening to country music, and trying to play a guitar that was missing a few strings. Ben witnessed all of the above, and still decided to see what I was doing for the remainder of my days.


Soo yeah.


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Paris ate an ibuprofen this weekend. I think she was trying to dull the pain from earlier when Nicole slammed her head against the wall. She must have been riffling through my purse looking for cash or something, because I know she has not mastered the kitty-proof top on the ibuprofen bottle, and there were a couple floating around at the bottom of my bag. Anyways, she threw it up and she's still alive.

Which makes it another successful day in the life of Paris and Nicole.


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xoxo, b

Ooh baby baby

I'm an aunt. Ben's an uncle. Levi is adorable. We drove up to Neenah, WI through some pretty nasty storms to meet the little dude. I think Levi gave Ben baby brain. I'm going to have to shut that down; it's not in the 5 year plan (that I just made up). 

But to clarify with an example: Paris partied too hard the other day and threw up. Ben kindly let me know that he would not be cleaning up the vomit, but would be going directly to the root of the problem and throwing both kitties in the river.** Yeeeaaahh.......noooo. 

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Speak of the devil, Ben got a job working in DOWNTOWN MILWAUKEE. He starts July 8th. Last night, we figured it would be awesome to see how long it would take him to sashay from our downtown Milwaukee apartment to his schmancy, new downtown Milwaukee workplace. Walk time = 20 minutes. His current drive time = 1+ hour, toll booths, and crossing the state line. 

After making it to his new workplace, we just kept walking like a couple of goonies for the next 2 hours. We hit Northwestern Mutual, headed to the lakefront and walked from the Art Museum all the way down to Bradford Beach, then down North Avenue where we stopped for pizza and finally back home near Lakefront Brewery. 

To my feet who endured this all in floppy flops-- I'm sorry. 

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xoxo, b

**For the record, Ben cleaned up Paris' party mess, and both cats still happily reside indoors.

Good morning

This morning, I gracefully awoke from my wonderful nest of multiple pillows and fluffy warm blankets, smiling sweetly as the last fleeting moments of subconscious dreamworld fluttered from me. With a quick kiss, I shrugged off the loving embrace of my darling husband, and sat up to stretch. With a grateful sigh, I spotted a furry little black kitty nestled up against my thigh. Smiling and shaking my head at just how amazing life can be, I extended my hand to feel the soft purr and warm body of the little runt of the litter, sweet Paris. Unable to restrain myself further, I scooped up the kitty and gave her a big squeeze. 

And she totally farted. 

Hello reality. 

xoxo, b