Feeling Foo.

Yesterday, I posted as my Facebook status that Monday was an Epic Fail.  And while nothing life threatening had happened, no one was harmed, no one lost their job or had an accident, it was just one of those mind numbing RIDICULOUS days.

One of those days that are typical for a person like myself.

The kind of day where I feel like someone is following me with a hidden camera..just WAITING for me to flip out, and then inform me that it was all just a prank.

Unfortunately, for me..none of what usually happens is a prank..it’s just seriously ridiculous, yet often funny shit that would make great reality TV.

BUT  BEFORE I GO ANY FURTHER , MAY I JUST MENTION, FOR THE SAKE OF KEEPING IT FOO FRIENDLY IN HERE…

THE FOO FIGHTERS HAPPENED TO ANNOUNCE THE DATES FOR THE 1^ST LEG OF THEIR NORTH AMERICAN TOUR YESTERDAY.  THEY ARE PLAYING DIRTY JERSEY. SO TO BE FAIR, MONDAY WAS NOT A COMPLETE FAIL.  I’VE ALREADY STARTED TO COMPILE A LIST OF THINGS THAT NEED TO BE DONE BEFORE I SEE THE SHOWS.  SCORING VALIUM WAS PRETTY HIGH UP THERE ON THE LIST.

So…Monday.  And well, continuing into Tuesday.

This  is how it goes..

THE VERY FIRST person I come in contact with Monday morning is this rude, hyperactive woman carrying a baby in a car seat (which mind you, she was swinging that car seat around like it was a baton..I was just waiting for the kid to puke all over.  Poor thing is going to end up with brain damage if she doesn’t pipe down.) Anyway, she was all up in my grill, giving me shit at 10am about how she REALLY needed these crop pants, and help her find them, she doesn’t have time, where is the bathroom…etc. And as much as I wanted to slap her silly, I tried helping her, I really did. But we didn’t have her size and she was CLEARLY mortified by this fact. And apparently, taking it out on me, as if I had just ran over her grandmother in my Range Rover, was going to make her feel better.   She proceeded to spew out insults, and then stormed out.  That was fun.

About an hour later,  a pair of Asian men come in to find some shorts. Not only did they not speak a lick of English, but didn’t understand the language I was throwing at them either. The three of us went around and around for what seemed like days. Me pointing at things and yelling as if they were deaf, in hopes that they would understand me better.

“THIS SIZE!!??? THIS COLOR????!!!  WHAT DO YOUUUUWANNNNNT!!??”

And they just stared at me.

And then spoke their language. I’m no translator, but it sounded like they were getting pissed.

REALLY people??? Go to Old Navy and leave me alone, will ya?

Anyway, so that started things off.  Throw in the fact that my leftovers had somehow turned to pure grease when I re-heated them in the microwave, I discovered there was a hole in the ass of my pants, and called some random old lady by mistake  while trying to make a dentist appointment. She was about as clueless as they came, too. I had the wrong number but  she was curious to know exactly what dentist I was trying to contact. Umm…yeah.

And then, well, there’s my husband and my kids.

Once home, I was feeling better, even though on the ride home I saw what, I can only assume was a large deer ,on the side of the road in about 4 billion pieces.   But I remained optimistic that it would be a quiet and peaceful evening.  BUT it just wouldn’t be a night in my house without some kind of Monty Python antics.

1^st-I walk into the living room to find crumbs scattered EVERYWHERE. And not just a few crumbs..It looked like confetti.  Turns out my daughter was practicing her goat imitation, and was showing my son how they ate.  Right. So, I go to get the vacuum.  I clean up the goat feed, and I try to empty the canister out in the garbage can, but it won’t open..The pedal thing is stuck.

2 minutes later my husband walks in the door and sees me fiddling with the dirt and garbage can.

“What did you do?” he asks me.

I give him the evil eye and he flexes his muscles and pushes me aside so that he can fix it.

An hour later and half a tube of Gorilla Glue gone, the garbage can is still busted.  Now the hub is frustrated and tossing around insults. Not at me, at the garbage can. At one point his finger gets caught, he hurls the garbage can across the kitchen and calls it a DIRTY SCRATCH BASKET.

Umm… a WHAT?

The kids come running in to see what all the ruckus is, and I’m laughing so hard that I can’t quite function. Instead of wondering why the garbage can is now laying in the dining room, my son wants to know what a scratch basket is. Go ahead honey..why don’t you tell him, because I’d also like to know.

Fast forward to this morning. I get a text from hub that states he forgot his check card at home and can I bring it to him at work. No problem.

Get the kids ready for school. Go to bring them to school, but I can’t find my keys. Where are my keys?? Has ANYONE seen my keys?? Blank stares. I panic. Kids are late and my keys are missing. I TEAR the house apart.  No keys. While doing this, neighbor calls and asks if I can drop her kids off too, her newborn is screaming. Sure I can…BUT I CANNOT FIND MY F*%$#$ keys. So the neighbor lets me take her car. Her brakes are a lot tighter than mine and the kids are hanging on for dear life.

Turns out my mother tossed my car keys in her bag yesterday when leaving my house. Not sure how she didn’t notice an extra set of keys in her bag when clearly hers were in the IGNITION of her vehicle, but well, she’s my mom..so I can’t really make fun of her.  Well, maybe I can. Senile old bat.

So I score my keys. I’m now off to give my husband his check card.

I greet him at work and he looks tired and annoyed. I ask him if he’s still upset about the garbage can debacle and he says no my arm hurts.

Really? Why does your arm hurt?

He proceeds to tell me that late last night he went outside to make sure that our new gazebo wasn’t getting destroyed by the wind and the rain. He was apparently trying to reinforce something but couldn’t see what he was doing. YOU SEE WHERE THIS IS GOING DON’T you??  Rain. Wind. Electricity.

He went to switch on the light outside in the gazebo and got zapped in his jammies.

The rest of the evening he didn’t sleep well because he says his arm was tingling and felt like a log attached to his body.

Now I am standing in the place my husband is employed laughing so hard that I nearly wet myself. People from a couple of aisles over peek around to see what the hell is going on.  

As I’m walking away, trying to wipe the mascara from my face..my wise-ass husband yells

“Why don’t you blog about that shit?”

And so I did.

The Best of MOM

Ahh...another Mother's Day. I am truly blessed to be able to be a part of the celebration.
I am, after all, mother to Cameron and Mia, the craziest, yet sweetest, rockin' and rollin' 7 year old twins in the world.
They are my best friends, my soul, my life.
They have brought me joy in a way that I never thought was possible.
People have asked me before what the best part of being a mom is..and my answer is always the same:
My children love unconditionally and fully, they are also ridiculously funny, and knowing that I have had a hand in creating  that package, makes  me PROUD.

My ABSOLUTE favorite photo of them.

But, I CANNOT rightfully take  full credit for who and what my children have become. OBVIOUSLY, my husband and I split the tab when it comes to raising them.  But he other key player in the game of raising Cameron and Mia is MY MOTHER.


My mother, AKA "Margie" to pretty much everyone.. is, by far, the coolest mom on the planet.
I wish that I could list ALL of the reasons why she is the bomb, but I don't have the tools to narrow down the list, nor do I have the space , OR the time. :)

But for the purpose of honoring her on this Mother's Day, I have compiled a list
that I feel pretty much sums her up.

First, she's the most beautiful woman I know.

As far back as I can remember..she has always been "in tune" with what makes her children tick. Her instincts  are always spot on..and she has consistently gone above and beyond the call of duty as a mom to support our passions.  For instance, instead of taking my brother, who was a rabid fan of "The Police" back in the day, to the mall to get a poster, she took him to see them live at the Dome in Syracuse NY. He was in 6th grade.

She not only supports most of my crazy, insane behavior when it comes to bands, etc...she is right there beside me...asking questions, telling me to go for it, entering contests for me.


She's funny.
She's smart.
She's unbelievably generous.
She's open minded and fair.
She's STRONG.
This here is a woman who gave birth to 2 children at a VERY young age, and lost one of them to cancer, before she was 40.
Tragic? Yes.
Does she show it? NO.

Her smile brightens the day of all that know and surround her.
She's STYLIN'.
Even back when polyester ruled the world..she worked it.

She was, has been, and continues to be, the person that I can go to for ANYTHING.
She understands me.
She believes in me.
She has taught me HOW to be a good mother. A FUN mother.
She is a QUEEN in the eyes of my children.

But above all, she is my FRIEND.
She is the one who calls to tell me that she saw Foo Fighter T shirts in a store, and should she pick one up for me. ( See, EVERYTHING relates back to Foo somehow!!)

And so I thank you Margie, for all of the above..but more importantly, for encouraging
me to be WHO I AM, and to go ahead and start a blog..to which I dedicate this very one TO YOU.

I believe in PROOF.

Forgot to post these photos from my David Letterman excursion.

Pat Smear of the Foo Fighters. (Who, while taking the picture, told me that he was going to blow smoke out of his mouth so that we looked bad ass. REALLY nice guy.)

And Bass player, Nate Mendel..(who, by the way was probably one of the shyest, nicest rock and rollers I've ever met.)

That's all folks.

See you on a few days. Working on something that dissects the behavior of people when put in the same room with celebrities. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?? That most people (and I include myself on this one) end up losing all sense of self control. STUPID BRAIN takes over. But we'll discuss.

My First Foo

If it were any other day, I would have been throwing a SHIT FIT. 

It’s not my idea of fun to have to haul ass through the city, wearing  50lb rain boots, trying to make a train , and carefully dodge all the jack-wagon bus drivers that purposefully  plow through the monstrous puddles just to see if you’re  paying attention.  Even more ridiculous is the dance that New Yorkers do while walking with their umbrellas through a crowd.  Thunder.  Lightning.  Times Square.  Tourists.  Wet pants.  Hungry. Sober.  Not a good scenario.

But I stayed unbelievably calm. In fact, I was smiling. It didn’t matter to me that my hair looked like I’d just had a bad 80’s perm.  It didn’t matter to me that my jeans were sticking to my legs like glue covered saran wrap.  It didn’t matter to me that I had trudged into the city on this awful, shitty, dreary day to be doused with buckets of water and subjected to the stench that is Penn Station. I was also doing all of this solo. Could be considered a BIG FAIL in some circles.  But not mine. I had just had one the BEST days that I’ve had in a VERY long time.

It was a day off from work, the kids were in school, and I had my mind made up.  After receiving a phone call from Margie( AKA bad-ass mom of the year) informing me that I had been put on the list for standby tickets  for Letterman, I flipped out, chugged a pot of coffee, bathed myself in record time, and got a train to NYC.

You would have thought that I was on my way to claim a bazillion dollar lottery ticket. I was giddy, nervous, freaked out, anxious, and just downright EXCITED as hell. And as much as I would love a good lottery story, that wasn’t the case at all. I was just going to be another schmuck in line for standby tickets. STANDBY, which as we all know, means there is no guarantee what so ever  that  your sorry ass will even get through the door. But I was determined. Determined to get through those doors and see the Foo Fighters.

My Foo Fighters history is long and sorted, and would probably bore the hair right off of most people’s heads. (Not counting, of course, the people in my life who are also fond of the Foo.)  BUT as most of you know, I’m a sucker for telling stories, and this one is no exception. But before I go any further, take a few moments to keep these things in mind:

1)When I set my mind on something..I become a bit on the obsessive side. ( I can actually HEAR a few of you laughing right now.)  But given this fact, it usually yields results.

2)I have wanted to see the Foo Fighters live for YEARS, and because of sorted reasons or disasters, I’ve never been able to. Too far. Couldn’t afford it.  Had to work. The kids were barfing.Tickets sold out in 1 millisecond…blah freakin’ blah.  Although it did cross my mind to go to a gig when I was 6 months pregnant with my twins.  I figured that someone would take pity on my super sized appearance and let me get up close. But then reality set in, and decided that the chances of going into labor outweighed the head banging that I really wanted to do.

3) I’m one of those people who, when passionate about something, compares it to EVERYTHING. You could be talking about the turkey club sandwich that you made for lunch and I will somehow find a way to relate it back to the Foo Fighters. That’s just how I am.  I’ve done this with other bands as well. Duran Duran is one of them. A fan for 20+ years, they were my idols. I grew up worshiping them, and as an adult, I still absolutely love everything that they do. I talk about them CONSTANTLY.  I saw them live for the first time in 2004..the original 5…and I screamed so loud that my husband walked away. To this day he claims that he had to use the restroom, but I know the truth.  Since then, I’ve seen them play a ton of shows, both private and public, and have  met all of them, excluding Andy, who is no longer a member.   (And NO, I don’t care what you think of Duran Duran.) Which leads to #4

4)I am not just passionate about BANDS, or a “groupie” as I have been called many times. Look up groupie in the dictionary people, I don’t want to bang the band members. I’m not even the delusional type that  believes that we will all be friends one day. And may I remind you..I’VE NEVER SEEN A FOO FIGHTERS SHOW.   I’m just a sucker for music and all that it encompasses.  But more specifically, it becomes a part of my life. A part of ME.  And I’m sure that some would argue that if you become that involved with something that it starts to take precedence. NOT THE CASE. I’m taking something that makes me feel good, taking something that that makes me HAPPY, taking something that I ENJOY, and making a place for it in my life. I’m a wife, a mother, a friend, a hard worker, a daughter, a million different things, but just because I’m a FAN of something doesn’t mean that one outweighs the other. More importantly, my friends and family are supportive of this. Why wouldn’t they be? Nothing makes me happier than to see anyone in my life with their face lit up from excitement. I expect nothing less from those who surround me.

5) Recently, and I would say within the past 6 months or so, I’ve opened a new chapter in the book of Jules. This new chapter has me going in a new direction.  This new chapter has me doing the things that I’ve always wanted to do.  In the simplest of terms..I’ve lived a great life, there’s no question about it. But for a long time the setbacks seemed to outnumber the progress, and I became a very skeptical, very scared, very pessimistic person, and ultimately, I was unwilling to take any chances.  And NOW, just a few months following my 40^th birthday, I look back on some of the possibilities that I have let pass in my life and I just CRINGE.  Even more cringe worthy are the REASONS I came up with to pass on these opportunities. I’m just SO TIRED of feeling like I CAN’T do things, when the reality is..if circumstances allow you…JUST FUCKING DO IT.  

And so we come to Tuesday, April 12^th..the day I stood in the pouring rain outside the Letterman studios, waiting to see if they had a seat for me.  And I’m not stupid, here I am ranting and raving about taking chances in life, and doing things that you wouldn’t normally do, and just go for it garbage….I KNOW.  We’re talking about a freakin’  Foo Fighters show, not the chance to backpack across Europe or have lunch with the President. But that’s the point! This is something that I would have, in recent past, talked myself out of.  I can hear the ramblings in my head..”You don’t need to go…it’s just a show..you’ll be alone..is it really worth it...there will be another time..”

NOT. THIS. TIME. I knew that if I didn’t go I would drive myself, and everyone around me, NUTS for the next 10 years.  And DAMMIT, I am so goddam glad I went. The fresh faced intern holding the standby tickets eventually DID let me in, and I sat all but about 20 ft. from the stage. David Letterman was AWESOME. But words cannot describe the way I felt when I saw Dave Grohl peek around the corner of the stage, and then walk out, as confident as ever, and stand right in front of me, with a giant smile on his face.  I will forever try and replay in my head those few moments that they started to play and my mind just sort of STOPPED.  I had always imagined that I would EVENTUALLY see them play live somewhere.  Summer tour maybe..MSG…PNC Arts Center.  I’m in Jersey..they were bound to be around again. But to sit in this small studio…just a spit away from them…was NOT something that ever crossed my mind.  And then…my god…they came back out after the show was finished taping, and did a little birthday tribute for Letterman..they played his favorite song for him, which is “Everlong.”  For reasons that are very personal , and quite haunting, this song has ALWAYS been my favorite.  At that point, I took an imaginary pencil out and wrote down in my head..”Remember this Jul..something like this will NEVER Happen again.”    

So, “What is the point of this story?” you ask. I’m not really sure.  And while I HATE the whole “LOL” thing , I really and truly am laughing out loud right now, because when it comes right down to it,I’m not completely sure I HAVE A POINT.  My fingers keep punching the keys, and my brain keeps telling me what to say, but none of it really makes sense. But these things I am 100% sure of:

I set out to do something last week, and I DID IT.  And anyone who knows me, you understand why that was such a big thing for me.  I feel like I’ve let a bit of the TRUE JULES thing slip away from me lately, and I don’t like it..NOT ONE BIT.

This day meant more to me than most could probably understand. 

I saw the Foo Fighters play live for the FIRST TIME in an intimate setting. I ended up literally bumping into not 1, but 2 of the band members and getting photos with them with a big giant shit eating grin on my face.   All of this was done as a last minute decision.  I am proud of myself for doing what I wanted to do and not  worrying about anything else.  For the first time, in a LONG time, I let all of my anxiety and worries take a backseat and I flew by the seat of my (very uncomfortable low rise) pants.

And I feel that this is just the beginning.

 

Watch out Dave Grohl..I’m coming for you. 

Just kidding.

 

 Kind of.