I’ve had some really bangin’ headaches this past week which have drained every bit of creativity from my head (or at least that’s the story I’m sticking to). But, today, HALLALEUJAH! The headache gods have taken mercy and blessed me with productivity and a painless day.
In a desperate plea for ideas, I put it out there on Facebook for some blog post ideas. I promised that the first 3 people to give me ideas would get a post. And they will. One post. This one here. So enjoy!
The 3 ideas were:
1.Kickboxing instructors who advertise outside of McDonald’s... smart or insulting or funny?
How about brilliant? And hilarious? I’m sorry, but it’s not insulting at all. It’s a reminder that if you keep eating that crap, it does things to you. Bad things. Now, I am not saying you can never eat McDonald’s or any of its artery-clogging brethren. I take Monkey Man maybe once a month when Hubby is working late and I don’t want to cook (well, I never want to cook, but it gives me a good excuse).
I do not want to hear people say it’s cheap and easy to feed a family. Last night, while my headache kicked it up about 10 notches, I baked a lemon garlic tilipia, steamed fresh carrots, and made some 10 minute brown rice. It took me about 10 minutes prep time and probably cost $9 for the entire family. That’s $3 per person for you math wizards out there.
Fitness instructors and facilities, although in it to make money (but what business isn’t?) are at least trying to help people get healthy, both physically and emotionally. McDonald’s is doing nothing more than making money off of humanity getting fatter and unhealthier.
Yes, I have proclaimed my love of the Pop ‘em, chocolate chip cookies and ice cream many times before. But, moderation is key. I would think it just as brilliant and hilarious if I walked past the Entenmann’s end cap and there was a huge blow-up of Jillian Michaels pointing to ME reminding me to workout that day. It might make me think twice about those delectable sprinkled balls of Heaven (but probably not).
2. Top 10 things I'd rather be doing other than this blog with a migraine.
Well, that’s easy. Sleep. And eat mint chocolate chip ice cream. And watch back-to-back episodes of Jersey Shore or any Real Housewives of (Insert any city except DC or Atlanta). And then fill in sleep for the other 7 slots. A visit from Rick Springfield would have been great, too, even if I mostly wore mismatched pajama pants and t-shirts for those days that my head felt like it would explode.
3. How crazy this year has been with the weather or how many days until people catch cabin fever.
Huh? It was very nice of this person to offer up his idea, but I’m guessing he does not read my blog. I don’t really offer anything intellectual or thought-provoking on these pages. Unless I can figure out a way for global warming to make you pee your pants, I’m probably going to avoid it and let CNN take care of that for me. But you know what does make me pee my pants? Fox News. And that’s enough political commentary for now.
Oh, wait! Funny weather-related story - I did have the pleasure of waking up to my 80-pound dog jumping into bed with us the other night when we had yet another thunderstorm. Now that’s funny stuff, right? RIGHT? What, no? Okay, fine. Well, then, over to you, Fox News. You can take care of the funny stuff for me.
Thanks to all who contributed ideas. I hope I have served you well.
Showing posts with label Rick Springfield. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rick Springfield. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Thesis: The Philosophy of Pitbull and How it Directly Correlates to Rick Springfield. Who Knew.
I’ve been hearing that song “Give Me Everything Tonight” by Pitbull, featuring Ni Hao Kai Lan from Nickelodeon, or somebody like that. Maybe it is Ne-Yo. Oh, whatever. It’s some rapper and I have no idea since I am clearly not immersed in the rap culture. Word.
Every time I hear that song, I think, “What a nice message,” because they say “We might not get tomorrow, let’s do it tonight.” I just thought it was a fun go-out-there-and-party message, you know, like live for today because you don’t know if there will be a tomorrow. Okay, so I ignored the following catchy little ditty in the middle of the song:
Excuse me
But I might drink a little bit more than I should tonight
And I might take you home with me if I could tonight
And I think you should let me cause I look good tonight (awesome self esteem!)
And we might not get tomorrow
Hmmmm. Okay, I will give him that if I, indeed, do not have tomorrow, because, say, the Earth is going to swallow me up whole, then I might knock back a few glasses of wine and chase them with tequila just so the sting of feeling the Earth’s burning core around me won’t be so bad. I might even think Armageddon is somewhat humorous if I’ve had one too many.
But it got me thinking. Is this song really about going out there and skydiving, or giving money to the needy, or making sure you give your kid a kiss each night before bed? Well, I listened a little more closely this morning when I heard the catchy tune on the radio (yes, I still listen to the radio. I love the spontaneity, the “Hey, what song will be on NEXT?" My iPod is too predictable).
Well, upon closer auditory investigation then confirmation after googling the lyrics, this song is most certainly NOT about living in the moment. Let me correct myself. It IS about living in the moment. Like having sex. Right. Now.
Put it on my life baby (say what?)
I can make you feel right baby
I can’t promise tomorrow
But I promise tonight (Big promises. Hope for the girl’s – or guy’s sake – he delivers)
And over and over again, he urges people to grab somebody sexy:
Grab somebody sexy tell ‘em hey
Give me everything tonight
Give me everything tonight
Give me everything tonight
Give me everything tonight
At first I thought, that just isn’t safe. Just anyone sexy? What about diseases? Background check? Just because they’re sexy doesn’t mean they won’t take you home and lock you in their basement. But then again, if we don’t have tomorrow, we don’t have tomorrow, so I guess a basement isn’t a big deal because he or she is sexy, and it’s all going to end by morning anyway.
However, I think the biggest thing that bothers me about this song is what exactly I would do if I might not have tomorrow. Do I really want to spend my last night grabbing someone sexy? I might want to go to Target. I might want to eat 4 boxes of Pop ‘Ems with no regrets. I might want to listen to Jessie’s Girl right before the world ends, or at least before my world ends.
Which then brought me full circle to the point of this song – By God, YES! I would grab someone sexy. I would grab Rick Springfield, bring him to Target, sit my butt down, and eat my Pop ‘Ems as Rick serenades me with “Jessie’s Girl” into the great hereafter.
Apologies to Hubby who is also sexy, but he’s totally on board with the whole Rick thing. I’ll give him the night before the last night. And on HIS last night? He can have Rick’s wife. I’m generous.
Every time I hear that song, I think, “What a nice message,” because they say “We might not get tomorrow, let’s do it tonight.” I just thought it was a fun go-out-there-and-party message, you know, like live for today because you don’t know if there will be a tomorrow. Okay, so I ignored the following catchy little ditty in the middle of the song:
Excuse me
But I might drink a little bit more than I should tonight
And I might take you home with me if I could tonight
And I think you should let me cause I look good tonight (awesome self esteem!)
And we might not get tomorrow
Hmmmm. Okay, I will give him that if I, indeed, do not have tomorrow, because, say, the Earth is going to swallow me up whole, then I might knock back a few glasses of wine and chase them with tequila just so the sting of feeling the Earth’s burning core around me won’t be so bad. I might even think Armageddon is somewhat humorous if I’ve had one too many.
But it got me thinking. Is this song really about going out there and skydiving, or giving money to the needy, or making sure you give your kid a kiss each night before bed? Well, I listened a little more closely this morning when I heard the catchy tune on the radio (yes, I still listen to the radio. I love the spontaneity, the “Hey, what song will be on NEXT?" My iPod is too predictable).
Well, upon closer auditory investigation then confirmation after googling the lyrics, this song is most certainly NOT about living in the moment. Let me correct myself. It IS about living in the moment. Like having sex. Right. Now.
Put it on my life baby (say what?)
I can make you feel right baby
I can’t promise tomorrow
But I promise tonight (Big promises. Hope for the girl’s – or guy’s sake – he delivers)
And over and over again, he urges people to grab somebody sexy:
Grab somebody sexy tell ‘em hey
Give me everything tonight
Give me everything tonight
Give me everything tonight
Give me everything tonight
At first I thought, that just isn’t safe. Just anyone sexy? What about diseases? Background check? Just because they’re sexy doesn’t mean they won’t take you home and lock you in their basement. But then again, if we don’t have tomorrow, we don’t have tomorrow, so I guess a basement isn’t a big deal because he or she is sexy, and it’s all going to end by morning anyway.
However, I think the biggest thing that bothers me about this song is what exactly I would do if I might not have tomorrow. Do I really want to spend my last night grabbing someone sexy? I might want to go to Target. I might want to eat 4 boxes of Pop ‘Ems with no regrets. I might want to listen to Jessie’s Girl right before the world ends, or at least before my world ends.
Which then brought me full circle to the point of this song – By God, YES! I would grab someone sexy. I would grab Rick Springfield, bring him to Target, sit my butt down, and eat my Pop ‘Ems as Rick serenades me with “Jessie’s Girl” into the great hereafter.
Apologies to Hubby who is also sexy, but he’s totally on board with the whole Rick thing. I’ll give him the night before the last night. And on HIS last night? He can have Rick’s wife. I’m generous.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Memo From Mom: Rick Springfield Special Edition
TO: Rick Springfield
RE: Go to Your ROOM!
Date: May 5, 2011
Oh, Rick. Rick, Rick, Rick. I heard the disappointing news the other night of your legal troubles. Now, Rick, I used the word "disppointing" which should trigger major feelings of mommy/child guilt. Which is what you should feel. Now, I'm not your mother, but apparently you need one of your fans to speak to you as such.
You have tens of thousands of adoring female fans that would give up their blue eyeliner and pearly pink Wet n' Wild lipstick for one night with you. And then you go and pull a stunt like you did the other night. Driving under the influence, Rick? Really? What did you think that would accomplish? You are just lucky you did not kill someone, or yourself (GASP!), Young Man!
Maybe you are not as wealthy as Oprah, but I think it's safe to say that I alone have spent enough money on your tickets in the last few years for you to hail a freakin' cab. Even if you spent all your money on booze that night, you could have asked ANY woman to drive you home. Just to have your ass sitting in her car would have been enough. Even if you were all drunk and drooly and incoherent.
I did use this unfortunate event as a teachable moment for Monkey Man, however. He overhead me talking to Hubby about your stupid decision and he asked us what we were talking about. We explained that it is against the law and very dangerous for someone to drink alcohol and drive. We gave him a brief 5-minute speech about alcohol and its effects on the brain as well as legal age. It was all very enlightening and then he threw out a karate move and proclaimed he was a Power Ranger.
And what did Monkey Man take away from our drinking and driving lecture? He told his teacher yesterday that you were arrested for drinking too much oil.
I'm actually whispering in his ear, "If you do that one more time Richard Springthorpe, I'm taking away all your Star Wars figures."
RE: Go to Your ROOM!
Date: May 5, 2011
Oh, Rick. Rick, Rick, Rick. I heard the disappointing news the other night of your legal troubles. Now, Rick, I used the word "disppointing" which should trigger major feelings of mommy/child guilt. Which is what you should feel. Now, I'm not your mother, but apparently you need one of your fans to speak to you as such.
You have tens of thousands of adoring female fans that would give up their blue eyeliner and pearly pink Wet n' Wild lipstick for one night with you. And then you go and pull a stunt like you did the other night. Driving under the influence, Rick? Really? What did you think that would accomplish? You are just lucky you did not kill someone, or yourself (GASP!), Young Man!
Maybe you are not as wealthy as Oprah, but I think it's safe to say that I alone have spent enough money on your tickets in the last few years for you to hail a freakin' cab. Even if you spent all your money on booze that night, you could have asked ANY woman to drive you home. Just to have your ass sitting in her car would have been enough. Even if you were all drunk and drooly and incoherent.
I did use this unfortunate event as a teachable moment for Monkey Man, however. He overhead me talking to Hubby about your stupid decision and he asked us what we were talking about. We explained that it is against the law and very dangerous for someone to drink alcohol and drive. We gave him a brief 5-minute speech about alcohol and its effects on the brain as well as legal age. It was all very enlightening and then he threw out a karate move and proclaimed he was a Power Ranger.
And what did Monkey Man take away from our drinking and driving lecture? He told his teacher yesterday that you were arrested for drinking too much oil.
I'm actually whispering in his ear, "If you do that one more time Richard Springthorpe, I'm taking away all your Star Wars figures."
Friday, April 1, 2011
SPRINGfield in the Summer
Guess who has 7th row tickets to see Rick Springfield in July - WOO HOO! In celebration of the awesomeness that will take place in New Brunswick on what I know will be a HOT night in July, I give you a photo recap of some wonderful moments with Rick:
Although highly unflattering, this photo was taken in March 2008 when Rick came out into the audience and gave his fan, who was standing on the armrest of her chair, a hug.
I went to the Virgin Megastore in NYC in July 2008 for Rick's CD signing. This was the first time I actually met him. I was quite eloquent, too, in our first meeting. "You're awesome!" Whatever, just take a picture with me, Rick.
This was perhaps one of the greatest nights of my life, apart from my wedding, of course. Not only did I take lots of pics with Rick, I actually engaged in CONVERSATION with him. Virginia Beach, September 2008
I met a new friend at a Rick concert last year (the friend who I'll be going to the July show with!) and she gave me the tip on where Rick was staying so we could get some pictures! I love this picture - it kind of looks like we are totally meant to be, right? Thanks to Doug for taking the photo of me and my man! Pennsylvania, February 2010
Although highly unflattering, this photo was taken in March 2008 when Rick came out into the audience and gave his fan, who was standing on the armrest of her chair, a hug.
I went to the Virgin Megastore in NYC in July 2008 for Rick's CD signing. This was the first time I actually met him. I was quite eloquent, too, in our first meeting. "You're awesome!" Whatever, just take a picture with me, Rick.
This was perhaps one of the greatest nights of my life, apart from my wedding, of course. Not only did I take lots of pics with Rick, I actually engaged in CONVERSATION with him. Virginia Beach, September 2008
I met a new friend at a Rick concert last year (the friend who I'll be going to the July show with!) and she gave me the tip on where Rick was staying so we could get some pictures! I love this picture - it kind of looks like we are totally meant to be, right? Thanks to Doug for taking the photo of me and my man! Pennsylvania, February 2010
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Memo From Mom
TO: SANTA
RE: MY CHRISTMAS LIST
DATE: December 15, 2010
Dear Santa,
I’m just gonna jump right in and tell you how good I’ve been all year. I go to work each day, take care of Monkey Man, take care of my house, pay my bills on time, eat my fruits and vegetables, take the dog for a walk, curse at people who can’t drive. Oops. Okay, fine, Santa. I’m not perfect but I have 2 excuses. 1.) I’m a stressed out mom. 2.) Some people are just plain stupid.
I have a Christmas List this year, Santa, and I know you don’t like to disappoint. I totally deserve some attention from you and your elves. So Santa, help a mom out.
1. I would like sleep. Preferably on a deserted island. Well, maybe not deserted. Rick Springfield can join me if he'd like. And ONLY because I want to be serenaded to sleep, because I’m not that kind of girl, Santa. I’m a married woman and Rick’s a married man. And I have enough on my plate with one man, who needs 2? Really, Santa. Get your jolly head out of the gutter.
2. I NEED spoons. Yes, an unusual request, you might be thinking, but we have a serious spoon shortage in our small household of 3. I have a problem – I don’t pay attention to the garbage disposal when a utensil, usually a spoon, gets stuck in it. Then, my spoons get all cut up and get turned into lethal weapons. I don’t want the simple act of slurping soup to turn into a horror flick.
3. I would love about 6 extra hours in a day. This doesn’t need much explanation. You know how Christmas is your busy season? Well, I feel like life is my busy season.
4. A protective shield that emits 75 degree temperatures around my body in the winter. You may need to defer to a consultant on this one, maybe a Star Trek geek or some other sci-fi freak that can help you with this? But this is a real necessity. I LOATHE walking out my front door and 20 feet to my car in temperatures below 50. Nowadays, I get to spend 30 minutes a day, 5 days a week outside in the winter for recess duty. Watching children run around like it’s a balmy 80 degrees out. Praying they don’t fall off monkey bars and kick another kid down the slide. So the stress of recess duty is enough. Throw in winter and it just sucks snowballs. Please excuse my French, Santa.
5. Santa, it is perhaps my greatest wish for chocolate chip cookies to have no effect on my body. And Holiday Pop ‘Ems. It’s just not fair that the two greatest foods on the planet are so good, but so bad. But soooo good.
6. This is a big one, and probably a request you get a lot from the grown ups. I know you’ve seen the thing I drive around in. I will loosely refer to it as a car. Well, that car originally started out as hubby’s way back in 1999. It was never my intention to be my primary mode of transportation. It is 12 years old and has more miles on it than a car should have. Hubby takes the “good car” because he has a lot farther to drive and frankly, Santa, the other car might not make it. So here I am, buzzing around town in a car that only plays the radio on one volume – LOUD, only emits heat or air conditioning on one setting – HIGH, squeaks and rattles, and makes me feel like a kid who just got her driver’s license and is running around in her parents rent-a-wreck because, who cares? I just got my license and I’m so cool that it doesn’t matter! But I got my license 19 years ago, don’t really think I’m that cool, and have since worked in jobs paying more than minimum wage. Don’t get me wrong, Santa. I am grateful to have a car, to have a job in which to drive that car, and to have a warm home in which to park my car in front of. However, I am a little concerned that I might be stranded at the side of the road in the very near future. Besides, hubby gets to listen to CDs in his car. Guess what I have the luxury of listening to? A tape. Do you even remember what a cassette tape IS?
Maybe this list comes as a breath of fresh air after all those, “I want a dolly and a truck and a video game” letters. Look at this as a challenge, Santa. Rise to the occasion. And please stop thinking, “Yep, the spoons. Now THOSE are doable.”
Thank you, Santa and Merry Christmas!
RE: MY CHRISTMAS LIST
DATE: December 15, 2010
Dear Santa,
I’m just gonna jump right in and tell you how good I’ve been all year. I go to work each day, take care of Monkey Man, take care of my house, pay my bills on time, eat my fruits and vegetables, take the dog for a walk, curse at people who can’t drive. Oops. Okay, fine, Santa. I’m not perfect but I have 2 excuses. 1.) I’m a stressed out mom. 2.) Some people are just plain stupid.
I have a Christmas List this year, Santa, and I know you don’t like to disappoint. I totally deserve some attention from you and your elves. So Santa, help a mom out.
1. I would like sleep. Preferably on a deserted island. Well, maybe not deserted. Rick Springfield can join me if he'd like. And ONLY because I want to be serenaded to sleep, because I’m not that kind of girl, Santa. I’m a married woman and Rick’s a married man. And I have enough on my plate with one man, who needs 2? Really, Santa. Get your jolly head out of the gutter.
2. I NEED spoons. Yes, an unusual request, you might be thinking, but we have a serious spoon shortage in our small household of 3. I have a problem – I don’t pay attention to the garbage disposal when a utensil, usually a spoon, gets stuck in it. Then, my spoons get all cut up and get turned into lethal weapons. I don’t want the simple act of slurping soup to turn into a horror flick.
3. I would love about 6 extra hours in a day. This doesn’t need much explanation. You know how Christmas is your busy season? Well, I feel like life is my busy season.
4. A protective shield that emits 75 degree temperatures around my body in the winter. You may need to defer to a consultant on this one, maybe a Star Trek geek or some other sci-fi freak that can help you with this? But this is a real necessity. I LOATHE walking out my front door and 20 feet to my car in temperatures below 50. Nowadays, I get to spend 30 minutes a day, 5 days a week outside in the winter for recess duty. Watching children run around like it’s a balmy 80 degrees out. Praying they don’t fall off monkey bars and kick another kid down the slide. So the stress of recess duty is enough. Throw in winter and it just sucks snowballs. Please excuse my French, Santa.
5. Santa, it is perhaps my greatest wish for chocolate chip cookies to have no effect on my body. And Holiday Pop ‘Ems. It’s just not fair that the two greatest foods on the planet are so good, but so bad. But soooo good.
6. This is a big one, and probably a request you get a lot from the grown ups. I know you’ve seen the thing I drive around in. I will loosely refer to it as a car. Well, that car originally started out as hubby’s way back in 1999. It was never my intention to be my primary mode of transportation. It is 12 years old and has more miles on it than a car should have. Hubby takes the “good car” because he has a lot farther to drive and frankly, Santa, the other car might not make it. So here I am, buzzing around town in a car that only plays the radio on one volume – LOUD, only emits heat or air conditioning on one setting – HIGH, squeaks and rattles, and makes me feel like a kid who just got her driver’s license and is running around in her parents rent-a-wreck because, who cares? I just got my license and I’m so cool that it doesn’t matter! But I got my license 19 years ago, don’t really think I’m that cool, and have since worked in jobs paying more than minimum wage. Don’t get me wrong, Santa. I am grateful to have a car, to have a job in which to drive that car, and to have a warm home in which to park my car in front of. However, I am a little concerned that I might be stranded at the side of the road in the very near future. Besides, hubby gets to listen to CDs in his car. Guess what I have the luxury of listening to? A tape. Do you even remember what a cassette tape IS?
Maybe this list comes as a breath of fresh air after all those, “I want a dolly and a truck and a video game” letters. Look at this as a challenge, Santa. Rise to the occasion. And please stop thinking, “Yep, the spoons. Now THOSE are doable.”
Thank you, Santa and Merry Christmas!
Sunday, September 12, 2010
What Ever Gave You That Idea?
While spinning Monkey Man in the office on my big rolling chair tonight, he glanced up above my desk. There hangs three awesomely autographed Rick Springfield album and CD covers.
Cover #1: My very own copy of Working Class Dog that I got when I was about 7 that was signed after a sweaty hug from Rick during one of his forays into the audience a few years ago.
Cover #2: My very own copy of Success Hasn’t Spoiled Me Yet that I got when I was about 8. That one was signed after another breathtakingly sweaty hug from Rick during yet another journey into the audience and fabulous job of landing right smack in front of ME.
Cover #3: The Venus in Overdrive CD that I had signed at Virgin Records in New York City. That was the first official time I “met” him – read: walked up to a table, almost ready to pass out because HOLY FREAKING CRAP. Rick Springfield is smiling at me and waiting for me to say something unbelievably witty. Or smart. Or cute. Or sexy. Nervous vomit is not one of those.
After looking at the 3 covers with pictures of Rick, he turned to me and said, with his sly, sarcastic smile that he uses a little too much, “Do you want to break up with Daddy and get Rick Springfield to marry you?”
Oh, sweet, naïve Monkey Man. If only it were that easy.
Cover #1: My very own copy of Working Class Dog that I got when I was about 7 that was signed after a sweaty hug from Rick during one of his forays into the audience a few years ago.
Cover #2: My very own copy of Success Hasn’t Spoiled Me Yet that I got when I was about 8. That one was signed after another breathtakingly sweaty hug from Rick during yet another journey into the audience and fabulous job of landing right smack in front of ME.
Cover #3: The Venus in Overdrive CD that I had signed at Virgin Records in New York City. That was the first official time I “met” him – read: walked up to a table, almost ready to pass out because HOLY FREAKING CRAP. Rick Springfield is smiling at me and waiting for me to say something unbelievably witty. Or smart. Or cute. Or sexy. Nervous vomit is not one of those.
After looking at the 3 covers with pictures of Rick, he turned to me and said, with his sly, sarcastic smile that he uses a little too much, “Do you want to break up with Daddy and get Rick Springfield to marry you?”
Oh, sweet, naïve Monkey Man. If only it were that easy.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Walt Disney World - I Need ANOTHER Vacation!
I certainly don't go to Walt Disney World in the summer for it's mild, spring-like weather. Or for a relaxing, peaceful getaway to recharge my batteries and come back refreshed and ready to take on life until the next vacation.
But I do go to Disney World to see this smile:
And this smile:
Oh, yes, and the innocent joy of seeing the REAL PINOCCHIO!
Wait, wait - and the REAL PLUTO!
MOMMY! Forget that Rick Springfield just walked by us! It's CHIP AND DALE!
Oh, and Mommy! Look! It's MICKEY!
DONALD & DAISY! MOMMY! DADDY! LOOK!
It's exhausting. It's hot. But, it's THE BEST.
But I do go to Disney World to see this smile:
And this smile:
Oh, yes, and the innocent joy of seeing the REAL PINOCCHIO!
Wait, wait - and the REAL PLUTO!
MOMMY! Forget that Rick Springfield just walked by us! It's CHIP AND DALE!
Oh, and Mommy! Look! It's MICKEY!
DONALD & DAISY! MOMMY! DADDY! LOOK!
It's exhausting. It's hot. But, it's THE BEST.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Is That Your Tongue?
Never in my LIFE did I think Rick Springfield would say those words to me. And it's not some bad dream scene like from the opening of this season's Grey's. I was awake and fully functioning. Let me explain before you think I've gone all hoochie-mama on you.
I drove toVirginia Beach
The concert was great. The Rick Virgin got her Working Class Dog album signed, I got my Success Hasn't Spoiled Me Yet album signed. We sang, we danced, we laughed. But after the show...
We went back to the hotel and hung out in the lobby. We knew at this point that Rick was staying at our hotel, so barring the sky falling or the Earth opening and sucking me up whole, I was not moving my Rick-loving butt from that lobby. He made a quick entry in then went on the elevator. We figured he'd come back down to hang out, as he's done at other shows (that I've only heard about because until this time, I didn't have the luck to be there). And come back down he did, just as I was talking to my husband on the phone. Then I promptly HUNG UP ON MY HUSBAND because HOLY &*%# - Rick Springfield is now 10 feet from me and I’m about to hang out with him!
I will now give you the progression of the evening and my interactions with Rick:
1st interaction - "Excuse me, Rick, I just hung up on my husband when you walked in here - can I get a picture with you?" He laughed and happily obliged - this was a polite exchange. I then asked, "Can I give you a kiss on the cheek?" I planted my lips on his cheek and he said, "Is that your tongue?" Silly Rick. I wish.
2nd interaction - So I have 2 albums and 1 CD signed by this guy, now what? My jeans! "Rick, can you sign my jeans?" His reply? "Are you going to take them off?" My reply, "Come to room ###." Don't worry, people. My husband knows about this. All in good fun. All in good fun. I then asked him, "Butt or thigh?" Rick responded, laughing, "Your choice!" I smiled and said, “Butt!” then happily gave him my right cheek to sign away on. I now have the most awesome designer jeans EVER.
3rd interaction - I realized that I have pics with Rick, Rick Virgin has pics with Rick, but we don't have any TOGETHER. Back to the bar we headed and I asked Rick for a threesome. Take your mind out of the gutter, readers. We are happily married women. That's 3 of us in the picture. He enjoyed my phrase. We got one very nice photo of the 3 of us, then we asked to give him a kiss on the cheek. His response? "You guys are cute!" How I am not dead at this point is beyond me.
4th interaction - Rick Virgin and I laughed earlier in the day that it could be dangerous for the 2 of us to be left unsupervised all weekend and that we could come home with tattoos. I had the idea to get a Rick tattoo - a Sharpie tattoo done by Rick himself! Back to the bar (in between all these interactions, we would go to the lobby, hang out and laugh) for what is probably the best one yet.
"Rick, can you give us a tattoo? Can you write R I on me and C K on my friend?” He laughed again, and said he wasn’t sure how to do that because that’s not how he signs his name. I explained to him that we just wanted the letters so when we stood together we could spell his name. I’m guessing this was a first for him based on his reaction and almost inability to simply write letters from the alphabet, but we all had a good laugh and got a great picture afterwards of our “tattoos!” When I told my husband, he asked if we got the picture of our lower backs (yes, it's a "tramp stamp!") WITH RICK. UGH! No, I didn’t think of that!
I drove to
The concert was great. The Rick Virgin got her Working Class Dog album signed, I got my Success Hasn't Spoiled Me Yet album signed. We sang, we danced, we laughed. But after the show...
We went back to the hotel and hung out in the lobby. We knew at this point that Rick was staying at our hotel, so barring the sky falling or the Earth opening and sucking me up whole, I was not moving my Rick-loving butt from that lobby. He made a quick entry in then went on the elevator. We figured he'd come back down to hang out, as he's done at other shows (that I've only heard about because until this time, I didn't have the luck to be there). And come back down he did, just as I was talking to my husband on the phone. Then I promptly HUNG UP ON MY HUSBAND because HOLY &*%# - Rick Springfield is now 10 feet from me and I’m about to hang out with him!
I will now give you the progression of the evening and my interactions with Rick:
1st interaction - "Excuse me, Rick, I just hung up on my husband when you walked in here - can I get a picture with you?" He laughed and happily obliged - this was a polite exchange. I then asked, "Can I give you a kiss on the cheek?" I planted my lips on his cheek and he said, "Is that your tongue?" Silly Rick. I wish.
2nd interaction - So I have 2 albums and 1 CD signed by this guy, now what? My jeans! "Rick, can you sign my jeans?" His reply? "Are you going to take them off?" My reply, "Come to room ###." Don't worry, people. My husband knows about this. All in good fun. All in good fun. I then asked him, "Butt or thigh?" Rick responded, laughing, "Your choice!" I smiled and said, “Butt!” then happily gave him my right cheek to sign away on. I now have the most awesome designer jeans EVER.
3rd interaction - I realized that I have pics with Rick, Rick Virgin has pics with Rick, but we don't have any TOGETHER. Back to the bar we headed and I asked Rick for a threesome. Take your mind out of the gutter, readers. We are happily married women. That's 3 of us in the picture. He enjoyed my phrase. We got one very nice photo of the 3 of us, then we asked to give him a kiss on the cheek. His response? "You guys are cute!" How I am not dead at this point is beyond me.
4th interaction - Rick Virgin and I laughed earlier in the day that it could be dangerous for the 2 of us to be left unsupervised all weekend and that we could come home with tattoos. I had the idea to get a Rick tattoo - a Sharpie tattoo done by Rick himself! Back to the bar (in between all these interactions, we would go to the lobby, hang out and laugh) for what is probably the best one yet.
"Rick, can you give us a tattoo? Can you write R I on me and C K on my friend?” He laughed again, and said he wasn’t sure how to do that because that’s not how he signs his name. I explained to him that we just wanted the letters so when we stood together we could spell his name. I’m guessing this was a first for him based on his reaction and almost inability to simply write letters from the alphabet, but we all had a good laugh and got a great picture afterwards of our “tattoos!” When I told my husband, he asked if we got the picture of our lower backs (yes, it's a "tramp stamp!") WITH RICK. UGH! No, I didn’t think of that!
Rick Springfield Touched My Butt
More on that in a post coming very soon, but for now, here are some pictures from my fabulous night after his concert in Virginia Beach.
Friday, August 1, 2008
We're Going to Disney World!
We leave for Disney World in the wee hours of Sunday morning, so You Are Kidding Me will most likely not be updated until after August 18. However, since I am driving with Monkey Man and WITHOUT my husband, I'm going to go ahead and take a crazy guess that I'll have lots of material for this here blog upon my return. 20 hours in a car with Monkey Man? You may never hear from me again as I might take refuge in a rest stop somewhere in Virginia (if I make it that far).
I can't even complain to my husband that he gets to fly while I ride in the backseat of my parents' car with the kid, Diego, Batman, Teddy Grahams, Blue's Clues, and a vile of crack (that's my vile of crack, I'm not sharing). Because, as you've all read and seen, last week's Rick Extravaganza was brought to you in part by Hubby. He came to the concert, even though he thought he'd get out of it because my friend was going to accompany me. He TOLD ME to go rush the stage, and like the obedient wife I am, I did as told and we were up front for half the concert, singing and drooling and dancing and drooling.
But the biggest contribution? He stayed with Monkey Man and the Rick Virgin's 2 kids while we went to the CD signing at Virgin Records in NYC. Hubby works from home and has a flexible schedule, and although the Rick Virgin's hubby did make a valiant attempt to "work from home," he couldn't, so my hubby took in the kids, no questions asked and just said, "Go, have fun!" I'd marry him all over again if Rick doesn't get to me first. Hubby, you can be our Best Man, because that's how much I love you!
I can't even complain to my husband that he gets to fly while I ride in the backseat of my parents' car with the kid, Diego, Batman, Teddy Grahams, Blue's Clues, and a vile of crack (that's my vile of crack, I'm not sharing). Because, as you've all read and seen, last week's Rick Extravaganza was brought to you in part by Hubby. He came to the concert, even though he thought he'd get out of it because my friend was going to accompany me. He TOLD ME to go rush the stage, and like the obedient wife I am, I did as told and we were up front for half the concert, singing and drooling and dancing and drooling.
But the biggest contribution? He stayed with Monkey Man and the Rick Virgin's 2 kids while we went to the CD signing at Virgin Records in NYC. Hubby works from home and has a flexible schedule, and although the Rick Virgin's hubby did make a valiant attempt to "work from home," he couldn't, so my hubby took in the kids, no questions asked and just said, "Go, have fun!" I'd marry him all over again if Rick doesn't get to me first. Hubby, you can be our Best Man, because that's how much I love you!
Thursday, July 31, 2008
There’s a Kid Around Here Somewhere
In case you’re wondering, Monkey Man’s dad and I are still together and there will be a post coming very soon about what a KICK BUTT husband I have. I will return with stories and adventures of
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
On the 9th Day of Rick Springfield...
My obsession gave to me:
The possibility of meeting him!
If only briefly. I live about 40 miles west of New York City and there is a chance that I will be going to the Venus in Overdrive CD signing at the Virgin Megastore in Times Square on Tuesday, July 29. We (The We is the Rick Virgin, who by that date will have lost her virginity, and myself) have to get there by 9 a.m. to buy the CD to get a bracelet for the signing at 6 p.m. IF - and that's a big if - we get there in time to get the bracelets, then I will surely pee in my pants and throw up when I am looking Rick in the face to sign my CD. They should give me a bracelet just to see that show.
The possibility of meeting him!
If only briefly. I live about 40 miles west of New York City and there is a chance that I will be going to the Venus in Overdrive CD signing at the Virgin Megastore in Times Square on Tuesday, July 29. We (The We is the Rick Virgin, who by that date will have lost her virginity, and myself) have to get there by 9 a.m. to buy the CD to get a bracelet for the signing at 6 p.m. IF - and that's a big if - we get there in time to get the bracelets, then I will surely pee in my pants and throw up when I am looking Rick in the face to sign my CD. They should give me a bracelet just to see that show.
Monday, July 21, 2008
On the 7th Day of Rick Springfield...
My obsession gave to me:
The perfect set list. Here it is, but it doesn't have to be in this order:
5 more days - I can't wait!
The perfect set list. Here it is, but it doesn't have to be in this order:
- Jessie's Girl
- Love Somebody
- Love Is Alright Tonight
- I've Done Everything For You
- What Kind of Fool Am I?
- Alyson
- Rock of Life
- Celebrate Youth
- Don't Talk to Strangers
- I Get Excited
- Will I?
- I'll Make You Happy
- Affair of the Heart
- Who Killed Rock n' Roll?
- Human Touch - of course, because we all need it!
5 more days - I can't wait!
Saturday, July 19, 2008
On the 5th Day of Rick Springfield...
My obsession gave to me:
The name of my dog when I was 7.
I picked out an adorable German Shepherd/Collie mix puppy and my parents entrusted me with the name of the dog. At the time, I was a Rick Springfield fan AND a Dukes of Hazzard fan, so I needed a name to honor the two. The logical choice? Jesse. Spelled like Uncle Jesse from the Dukes of Hazzard but also giving a nod to Jessie's Girl.
It's a good thing that I already had a dog named Jessie, because Monkey Man may very well have ended up with that name. But after your dog has had the name already, it doesn't work well on the humans in the family - or at least that's what my husband thought.
Friday, July 18, 2008
On the 4th Day of Rick Springfield...
My obsession gave to me:
Actually it took something away. 1 hour and 33 minutes of my life I'll never get back.
My wonderful husband ordered the Hard to Hold DVD and gave it to me as a surprise a few weeks ago. I think I saw the movie when it came out (1984), but can't be quite sure so I was excited to watch it. I had very low expectations for it, knowing it wasn't a cinematic masterpiece. But, hey, what the hell, I thought, Rick is in it and so is his naked butt so how bad can it be?
In honor of my 12 Days of Rick Springfield, I thought this would be the perfect time to watch it and give a review. And it was a Thursday night without The Office so I had some spare time.
For all the die-hard fans out there, I sincerely apologize about this review. I am by no means a movie critic so I will now give you my layman's review - This movie was bad.
Rick's acting was decent, but honestly I couldn't pay much attention because of his mullet. He could almost pull it off because he is Rick Springfield. But still, it was a mullet. And his love interest? She looked old enough to be his mother. It was unbelievable to have those two together. Rick, sorry "Jamie Roberts", would not have fallen for this matronly woman.
Thank God Love Somebody is one of the songs in the movie because that just happens to be one of my favorites, but I had to wait through 1 hour and 30 minutes of excrutiating dialogue and bad kissing scenes before I got to the song.
I think Rick did the best he could for what he had to work with, but he didn't have much to work with, unfortunately. It was enjoyable to see that smile and those eyes for 1 hour and 33 minutes, but after that, I was ready for another episode of House Hunters.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Sunday Funnies
Put me in place of Eeyore and it now reads, "Girls, Come On, Road trip to anywhere that I'm guaranteed no screaming, crying, whining children and a few rounds of margaritas, a dance floor, fun, loud music, a few mornings to sleep past 6 a.m., maybe some lounge chairs and a pool!" Terrible Threes has been so bad that I'm letting you in on my daydreams.I love this kid but there's a good chance that this period of his life could kill me, or put me in a catatonic state in which you'll find me in the corner of my bedroom on my dog's bed, curled up fetal, rocking back and forth singing, "Jessie's Girl" to take me back to my happy place.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Oprah May Have Saved Tom Cruise
A little history. If you’ve been reading my blog, you may have noticed I get a little starstruck of the male persuasion. Tom Cruise was IT for me since about the age of 16. Any serious boyfriend knew he would be dumped in a second if Tom Cruise came a-knocking. My husband understood that our vows included, “’til death do us part or until Tom Cruise realizes I am the woman of his dreams.” I loved how he looked, that smile, his acting, his eyes – oh, and did I mention that smile?
Then came his comment about Brooke Shields and postpartum depression to Matt Lauer on The Today Show. Personally, his timing sucked. Don’t mess with a woman after she’s given birth. Whether a mom has dealt with full-blown PPD or not, hormones are not in the BFF category after birth. Don’t tell a woman to treat those “feelings” with a vitamin and exercise. Obviously, Tom proved stupidity can’t be cured with Centrum and a 5 mile run.
Funny how someone I once thought was so extremely good looking became UGLY. I saw insanity in that infamous grin. His insides were showing on the outside and it was no longer pretty.
So today at 4 p.m. I gave him another chance. It was the calm, sincere, quiet Tom that I fell in love with years ago. He sat on the couch and stayed there for the hour. He addressed his PPD comment and said (I hope in honesty) that it was a mistake. He seemed to say that he understood that PPD does exist and that medication is an individual decision.
I will admit that my heart went out to him a little when he talked about Suri’s birth. I am totally of the belief that once you become a celebrity, you asked for it, and the paparazzi comes along with the paycheck. But when he talked about keeping Suri from the press and not releasing photos of her right away because they just wanted time to be with Suri and the family, I understood that. It’s a special time, and like he said in the interview, it’s time you never get back. There were a ton of rumors as to why there were no photos of Suri before the Vanity Fair spread, and that’s not fair to attack a baby. She had nothing to do with her father’s sudden looniness, or the fact that her mother would one day shed her girl-next-door Joey image and decide to become Posh Spice’s clone.
I consider myself a fairly bright person on most days of the week when the sun, moon, and Earth align and I’ve had at least 10 hours of sleep. I understand that the media is powerful and public relations can make you or break you. Tom Cruise is human – he succeeds, he fails, he loves his family, he has a personal chef. We, the public, see him the way the media edits him or the way his publicist decides to make him look on any given day. He took 3 years of slamming after his 2005 Oprah couch incident – a mixture of poor publicity and incredibly negative editing of any Tom Cruise clip the media could get its hands on. I think Oprah helped turn it around today. Tom certainly took the opportunity to go back to his quiet, boyish days, appearing humble amidst his
Monday, April 7, 2008
Hangin’ Tough Until the Fall
The teenage girl living inside of my not-so-teenage-girl looking body (read: I’ve had a kid, things shifted, I cannot eat French Fries like they are the 6th food group) is now adding another “oh my God” moment. If I knew how to text message, I’d let all my friends know this: OMG NKOTB IZ BACK! But I don’t know how to text message and I rarely even charge my phone, so this post serves as my announcement:
New Kids on the Block are touring in the fall!
Jordan, Jon, Joey, Danny, and Donnie are working on a new album and are back together! And guess what, I’m legal now!
The news got leaked in People Magazine and then the 5 appeared on the Today Show on Friday with the official announcement. I will admit that I have not been a consistent fan. This is nothing like Rick Springfield. I was a New Kids groupie when I was 14 but once the New Kids on the Block turned into NKOTB and tried to persuade us that they were actually talented, my friends and I were so over them. Major backlash from Pam, Juliann, Sharon, Jenny, and Dana – my best friends from kindergarten all the way up. We went from planning our weddings to our respective favorites: Pam (that’s me) loved Jon, Juliann loved Jordan, Sharon loved Danny, Jenny loved Joe, and Dana loved Donnie to “New Kids who? Ugh. Ewww.” I don’t know how it worked out that each of the 5 of us liked our own New Kid, but it worked out well for us and no one had to IM the other or text the other – oh, wait, it was 1988 and we had these things called house phones – call the other and threaten to not talk to that person if she didn’t back off her man.
I don’t know how many New Kids concerts we went to but some of them included going to Six Flags (for those not in the know, in 1988 it was simply called “Great Adventure”) and standing in the rain (some of our parents included) for 14 hours, backstage passes at Brendan Byrne Arena (now Continental Airlines Arena) where we were supposed to meet all of them but only Donnie came out, and front-row seats at Nassau Coliseum. Our parents were very good to us and drove us around to these concerts and endured the ear-piercing screams of thousands of pubescent girls.
The New Kids on the Block will be appearing again on the Today Show on May 16 to perform a few songs. It’s hard for me to keep that inner 14 year-old at bay, and I think I may need to camp out to see this for myself. The fall is just too far away and I’m already close to needing therapy for regression and delusional thoughts after that Rick Springfield concert last week, might as well add this to the bill, too. After this past week, I won’t be surprised if I get a few pimples and start slamming doors and refusing to talk to anyone. Adolescence – I’m back!
Saturday, March 29, 2008
My Birthday Gift – Rick Springfield!
This post will have nothing to do with Monkey Man except for my hopes that Rick Springfield will be my new baby daddy. But I can’t even really wish that because after last night, my husband really proved to be the best one ever.
My husband’s birthday gift to me was the Rick Springfield concert last night. It was my 4th one in the past 10 years (with 3 of them in the last 2 years!). My first concert EVER was Rick Springfield when I was 8 years-old – thanks to mom and dad. So I have some history with this guy. I’ve had a huge crush on him for 26 years. He is 58, hot, and I’d still make out with him.
Camera – check. Album – check. Marker – check. Loyal husband ready to take pictures and watch his wife behave like a giddy 16 year-old girl – check. The concert was awesome – he is a very talented musician and great performer. He’s not just some has-been 80s pop star. He is actually talented. But I’m not a music critic and that’s not the point of this post, so enough of that.
Out came the wireless guitar and headset. You know what that means? He’s coming out into the audience. I jumped up on my seat with my album and marker in hand and sang, danced, and yelled while Rick sang Human Touch. He made his way down the center of the rows – we were about 15 rows back, smack in the middle, so this was a good sign. He veered off a little to the left, my dreams started to crash a bit, then wait! He went back to the middle. I was jumping up and down on the seat waving the album like a fool and then yes, ladies and gentlemen, I held out my marker and album to him and he took the marker, signed my album and my husband pushed me up on top of the back of the seat to stand next to Rick. And get a hug from Rick. And a KISS from Rick. Do you know how good it feels to have Rick Springfield’s sweat on you? I do, and sorry if the next time I see you I stink, because I’m not showering until I come down from this high.
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