Pearl Jam tonight!


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Holy smokes!  The day has finally arrived that Eddie Vedder and friends roll into my town, my turf, my favorite!!

I can barely wait.  I’ve been pacing around the house, cleaning, cooking, changing clothes and looking in the mirror over and over again.  I’ve turned into a little bit of a girl over this whole thing.  Normally, when girls have an exciting event, they go all ga-ga and obsess about what to wear.  And normally I find that more than mildly annoying.   Why is it that girls are always worried about what to wear?  Will I be whisked away backstage because of my new jeans or will Eddie do a shout out to me and my perfectly matched yet unmatched cardigan??

I think not.

But here I am, checking myself out in the mirror over and over like a stupid twenty-something single girl!.

At any rate, I anticipate an evening filled with great people, cocktails, laughter, mind blowing music, and *fingers crossed* several poor choices.  I really hope they play Immortality since I didn’t hear it at Wrigley last summer.  I hope that there’s no douchebags sitting in our section that thinking they are the epitome of the PJ Superfan and record the whole show on their giant iphone 6.  I also hope we’re not next to the annoying concert girls.  You know what I’m talking about.  They scream.  They sing loudly the whole time.  They get drunk and spill overpriced beer on you.

But hey, that’s what concerts are all about.  The music and the weirdo people that love it!  Cheers!

 

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I am not athletic.


The lovelies and I caught a few ice skating performances on the Olympics last night. 

I remember being young and watching in awe…gawking at the girls in sparkly outfits spinning and hurtling themselves through the chilly air.  I always wondered how they got those nude colored leggings around their skates without tearing holes in them. 

There was a woman who skated to Pink Floyd last night.  Shine on you crazy diamond. 

I began to think of all the great songs I would skate to if I were talented and not a weak ankled, fat knee’d, awkward faced, cynical mom with unachievable, athletic, childhood dreams. 

Of course, you know me, and I would have to skate to Eddie.  I noticed everyone tries to skate to beautiful and moving pieces of music.  I would have to make a medley of Pearl Jam.   A little Chris Cornell and Soundgarden action could be great too. 

Maybe Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch? Color Me Badd??  Vanilla Ice???  Salt n Peppa?  Matchbox 20??  Stone Temple Pilots?  Nirvana???

Grunge is like poetry, arguably, and so is ice skating, I guess. 

I could wear a signature Cobain cardigan.  I could have a pair of Doc Marten ice skates fashioned as well.

I wouldn’t smile.  I would keep an air of angst and dirt and just enough self doubt.  I might even flip people off but I would school some fucking ice skating haters.  I would be so good on those triple axles and so visually and musically ironic, no one could handle it. 

I would be the best role model for young girls.  My own kids would roll their eyes and say, ugh mom, not Pearl Jam again. 

My so called dog


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Doesn’t she remind you of Claire Danes from My So-Called Life? 

Grunge dog.  The more I thought about it yesterday, the more it made me giggle.  I mean, she dresses in all black, wears a choker necklace, is technically in her teen years, has dirty hair and always looks bitterly depressed.  

I’m sure she writes poetry at 3 am. 

Even her breed matches.  Great Dane? Claire Danes?  It was meant to be! 

It’s just too bad that she can’t marry Jordan Catalano and have little grunge puppies in cardigan sweaters.  She’s stuck with me.  She’s my wife-pup, Jordan!!! Go shake that hair and blink those blue eyes at someone else.  Dick. 

grunge and glitter


Yesterday’s glitter-storm of valentine making proved mighty exciting.  Almost as exciting as seeing Soundgarden tonight.  As I carry around the leftover teal and lavender glitters from head to toe, I am optimistic that it will make me blindingly sparkly for Mr. Chris Cornell.  I’m sure he will deliver me a backstage pass and inquire about my sparkly style.

I mean, how do you get it to whoosh around behind you when you walk?  

Well, Chris…can I call you Chris? You have to make valentines with me to find out.

I’m there.

And that’s how Chris Cornell and I became best friends and how I met my second husband, Eddie Vedder.  How did you think all that happened?

How do I love thee??


We all know how much I’ve been loving my 90’s revival.  I bought the doc martens, I pulled out all the old music, and I even embraced a little grunge angst there for a while.

All of this has not excited me more than Lovely #2 singing along to Nirvana the other day in the car.

Yesssssss!  Success!!  Take that Ke$ha!!!

It really was a proud moment….her little voice singing along, ‘I know a lady, came from Duluth, bit by a dog with a rabid tooth…’

Classic.

What’s wrong with this picture?


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As you can see, I got the doc martens I’ve been obsessed with as of late.  It was an easy purchase.  Find the style, try on, sold, see ya.

Lovely #2 and I browsed around the rest of the mall, ate some shitty food court grub, and headed to back to our side of town to pick up lovely #1 from school.

I was excited to show her my boots since I feel like she appreciates the 90’s grunge fashion sense…even though she’s only 6.

I open the box and pull out one and start to straighten up the laces.  They came with an extra pair of yellow laces too.  So we strung those into some of lovely #1’s glittery high top sneakers.

I finally pulled out the other boot from under the tissue paper…and it seemed to not quite go with the other.  It seemed smaller and mis-shaped for the left.

Turns out I got 2 right boots.  No left.  One size smaller than the other.

Aw shit!  Of course I’m way too excited about these boots to wait, so we saddled up and went back to the stupid mall.  The same girl was working and she felt really bad that I had to come all the way back.  She gave me a coupon for some $ off my next purchase…so I bought another pair of shoes.  Dang!

The whole thing amuses me…and I got what I wanted in a round-about way.

Happy leap year to me.

Yes…Grunge…I…can’t…resist…


Ever since I wrote that grunge post the other day, I can’t stop thinking about all the great things that I loved from that time period.  I’ve been busting out all my favorite music and jamming out in my car.  I’ve been browsing through the movies that I used to watch over and over and learn all the words to.  Seriously…Singles?  What a great movie.  Such great fashion in that flick!  Booty shorts over black leggings with holes in the knees and Doc Martens?  Um…yes.  The best.

This brings me to my adventure of the day.  I’m going to buy some new Dr. Marten boots.  The classic black ones.  I’m so pumped.  I had a low cut brown pair back in the day…and they were awesome.  So durable and comfortable.  I can’t recall where and when I lost them.  I have a feeling they were the victims of one of my many moves throughout the years.  I moved a lot in those college years.  Yikes.

Ah, but today!  Today I revive this grunge fest that has been going on in my brain for days.  I kind of feel like I’ve just been waiting for the right time to bring this fashion/music/state of mind back.  I think everyone’s been saving their boots in their closet for when the time comes.  The time is now, people!!! I may even buy two pairs so that I am prepared for the next wave of grunge…20 years from now.

Wish me luck.  Here is a little grunge inspiration to get you in the mood:

 

Bringing back the 90’s


I loves the nineties.  I was in middle and high school.  It was the grunge movement.  The dark days…when it was cool to be dirty and depressed and artsy fartsy and wear huge boys’ clothes. 

It was great, wasn’t it?  I mean, in high school, what is there to be truly depressed about?  Exactly. 

Flannels and Doc Marten boots.  Pearl Jam, Nirvana, and Soundgarden!!  My favorite out of the three is probably Soundgarden.  It all started with that creepy video for Black Hole Sun where everyone’s faces get all distorted and creepy from the sun.  Weird.  Anyways….all their other songs are way better than that one.   

I would totally leave my husband for the lead singer, Chris Cornell.  Yes.  Sorry husband! 

And my birthday is the same as Mr. Kurt Cobain…which means that I am obviously perfect to play a dirty, tortured, creative genius who wears the same cardigan everyday.  Yes!

I’m bringing back the grunge.  I’m excited.