Category Archives: Family Ties

Mother’s Day is NOT an Excuse for Licking Minivans (GIVEAWAY!)

Babs-I-love-Mom***DISCLAIMER: As with most Go Jules Go giveaways, this one is sponsored by yours truly. All opinions expressed belong to Numero Uno.***

Happy Mother’s Day, Childbearing Chipmunks!

I know I just wrote about how much I prefer dogs to kids, but I’m glad not everyone feels that way.

Babs Sheet Go Jules Go

Like Babs.

Last Mother’s Day, I went the epic haiku route, which as we all know, is impossible to top.

Or is it? (In one case, yes.)

Don't do it, Jules...

Don’t do it, Jules…

One of my favorite moms, Leanne Shirtliffe of Ironic Mom.com, has a NEW BOOK out this month! An actual book! She’s living the bloggy dream! Even The Bloggess is touting it, unsurprisingly, as “awesome.”

But… but…

Like any wise parent, Leanne knows the best reason for having kids is the writing material. Don’t Lick the Minivan (and Other Things I Never Thought I’d Say to My Kidsfeatures uproarious tales from Leanne’s wild and wacky twin-filled world. I’m particularly excited to read about the birthday party where neighborhood kids took home skin rashes from the second-hand face paint she applied.

She really used a bowl. I swear.

She really used a bowl. I swear.

While Babs never gave me any skin rashes, she did subject all three of her children to the infamous bowl haircut. And in a stroke of cruel genius, this year, she decided to have a garage sale on Mother’s Day, thereby guaranteeing slave labor during one of the hottest, muggiest Mother’s Day weekends on record.

So while my brother, sister and I are haggling, sweating and hopefully drinking from cleverly disguised water bottle-flasks, I thought I’d reward you fine folks with a giveaway! At least one of us should have some fun today.

GIVEAWAY

Dont-Lick-the-Minivan

One (1) copy of Don’t Lick the Minivan (and Other Things I Never Thought I’d Say to My Kids) by Leanne Shirtliffe. Will be shipped on or after May 22, 2013.

RULES

Simply leave a comment below describing a favorite ‘mom quote’ moment – either something your mother said (or loves to say…repeatedly…), or something you’ve said as a mom that you never thought you would. (For more great ‘mom quote’ moments, head over to Ironic Mom!)

I’ll ever-so-subjectively pick a winner based on humor and originality.

DEADLINE

Sunday, May 19, 2013, 12pm NOON EST. Winner announced Monday, May 20, 2013, 7am EST.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

About these ads

You’ve Got Mail! I Think. I Don’t Know. This Is Your Mother. Are You Seeing This?

I'm sure you remember Jenn.

Obviously you remember Jenn.

You know you’ve got the perfect best friend when she not only emails you blog ideas, but good blog ideas – and the makings of your next post!

Like all of us, my BFF, Jenn, was inspired by my mom, Babs, and Babs’ recent emails re: dead deer and faceless Cabbage Patch dolls.

This week, Jenn forwarded an email from her mom, and trust me, there’s more where this came from.

To: Jenn (a.k.a. “Butter”…because, well, Jenn won’t tell me why)

From: Jenn’s Mom (a.k.a. “Moth”)

Butter: I  understand you sent a reply to my last email, but someone (I won’t say who) Managed to delete it—-I’m sorry, could you please forward it again–thanks!!!Not only does someone (I won’t say who) read my emails, but deletes them (unintentionally), I’ m sure!!!!”Retirement in winter “—–leaves a lot of time on someone’s hands, while your mother is at your grandmother’s cleaning her apartment…..Hope you’re having a good day Butter !!!!I pray to the dear Lord for winter strength-(-till someone has more to do )…….THANKS—–Hugs

And a few minutes later:

No need to send it again sweetheart, just found it in “trash” …..

Thanks, Moth

Got any emails from your old lady you’d like to share? Jenn and I think there could be a new blog feature here. Send them to: Julie.Davidoski@yahoo.com!

Yes.

Yes.

***BONUS BACON-FILLED POST: Rachel’s Table is showcasing mspicy turkey meatloaf recipe today! I know. All this [facial hairand I can cook. I figured I needed a fall-back plan in case my Glee audition doesn’t pan out. Oh, also? If you’re not subscribing to Rachel’s Table, you just made a baby chipmunk cry.***

Brace Yourselves. I Just Got Another Email From My Mom.

You probably just stopped having nightmares over last week’s email from my mom, Babs. Remember that one? With the deer carcass? Babs had emailed graphic, carnage-ridden pictures to me, describing how her neighbor had strung up a dead deer only yards away from her back porch.

Then, a couple of days later, Babs emailed again, saying she’d bought us tickets to see Spank!, the 50 Shades of Grey parody/musical.

Surely, you’re thinking, in such a short amount of time, Jules’ mom couldn’t possibly electronic-mail any more atrocities?

Nay, chipmunks!

Behold!

Dregs from the crawl space 1-28-13 002

Wait for it.

Subject: This Almost Killed Me…

I’m almost done with the eaves clean-out. It was a cross between a Chucky movie and a 30′s dust bowl.

Opening some of the last boxes was very scary. The mother [squirrel] nest wasn’t the straw [I'd seen] on the floor, but inside a box disguised as Christmas storage.

And the choices of nesting material? That was found in a stuffed animals/dolls box. Yup, the doll is missing her face! Plus lots of the pink insulation from the ceiling.

This was such a gross job.

xox Babs

attic-nest

Oh look! It’s my box of Christmas treasures! F&*#%^& squirrels!

Cabbage-Patch-doll-attic

Well at least my children’s momentos are safe and sound… OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S HOLE-Y.

Obviously, Babs needs her own blog. Or a new storage space.

Chipmunks-Babs

What’s your least favorite / grossest household job?

P.S. – You have until NOON EST TODAY (Wednesday, January 30, 2013) to enter my latest giveaway – you can win custom artwork from Julie Maida!

Canvas Print Giveaway Winner!

Happy Monday, Chipmunks!

Last Thursday, I asked you to submit a comment describing a sibling rivalry or ridiculous parental rule, and of course, you didn’t disappoint.

It’d make sense for me to now tell you some memorable sibling rivalry stories, but who wants to hear about the time I crushed my brother’s finger in the sliding door of Babs’ van, or when he sent me to the ER by hurling a baseball cap at my face and scratching my retina? I’m sure you don’t want to see the scars my sister has from both of us. Nah!

It’s time to announce the winner! This lucky guy or gal ‘munk gets a free 11 x 16-inch canvas print from Printcopia.

A print like the one I just gave my sis for her birthday:

Wait, you’re probably thinking, what’s going on in that picture?

Oh, well, thank you for asking.

Babs asked Peppermeister and I to leave Uncle Jesse at home on Saturday for my sister’s birthday celebration, because my niece would be there and she’s allergic to dogs.

An abomination!

Obviously, we couldn’t have him missing out on the festivities.

Isn’t he so cute? That pic is life-size, too, because he’s a li’l nugget. Wait…what were we doing again?

Oh right – the winner of the canvas print!

In typical blonde fashion, I forgot to find out if I could award the prize to non-U.S. residents, so I’ve selected a winner and a runner-up. If the winner can’t cash in on the canvas print, I’ll personally send them Sun-Staches ’stache glasses instead, and the runner-up will receive the canvas print. Otherwise, the runner-up will receive the ‘stache glasses.

The Winner

asoulwalker!

I like the way you operate, my friend. And might I suggest your long-awaited revenge include a bag ‘o back hair?

Click here to read asoulwalker’s submission.

The Runner-Up

Brigitte

Brigitte, you should probably just go ahead and give this prize to your sister. I’m really scared of what she’ll do to you if you don’t.

Click here to read Brigitte’s submission.

Congratulations you two! I’ll follow-up with both of you via email to get your prizes situated.

Thanks again for your terrific submissions, and don’t forget there’s another contest happening RIGHT NOW – My Halloween contest! The prize is epic. Enter by Oct 27th!

The One Where Things Get Hairy

Chipmunks, this is undoubtedly the most polarizing post I’ve ever published.

If you make it through, I’ll know where we stand.

Once upon a time, this came into my life:

Wait for it…

Maybe I should back up. Speaking of backs, that’s a bag of back hair.

My father-in-law’s back hair.

Still with me? Okay, good. It really makes perfect sense. You see, a guy’s gotta shave his back, and my mother-in-law heard sprinkling hair around the perimeter of your property keeps deer away.

And if the deer are away, Peppermeister‘s (Husband #1) garden is safe.

And everybody’s happy.

Though this was a surprise to us, it was like it was meant to be. Like recycling between father and son. Mother Nature at work.

…No? Are you saying you’re against recycling and Mother Nature? You probably just want us to shoot those poor deer, don’t you? Wow.

The day we were given the back hair, my sister-in-law (SIL) caught sight of the exchange, and, well… She was less than pleased. Disgusted might be the word. Yeah. That’s the one.

So, naturally, there was only one thing to do.

Before we left the family gathering that night, Peppermeister hid the bag ‘o back hair in SIL’s cooler. Specifically, the cooler where she keeps her children’s food.

Because…obviously.

Over the next few months, we found various unsettling ways to keep the back hair traveling between each other’s houses. It landed anywhere but scattered around the perimeter of our house, clearly destined for greatness.

And then it went missing. For months.

Until last Saturday, when I did my yearly cleaning.

Well played.

Thank god. I should really clean more often.

Do you have any ongoing pranks / inside jokes that tickle your back hair fancy?

P.S. – Watch your back, SIL. Watch your back.

No Way I Was Missing My Reservation at Rachel’s Table: THE PREQUEL

Come with me, Chipmunks, on a little trip…

A little trip to Maryland for a family retirement party. Pretend it’s this past Saturday and your friend Jules is looking very cute overdressed in her lacy black dress…

Peppermeister (Husband Number Uno) and I headed down to Maryland in the morning and made great time – under 4 hours from western New Jersey.

We were staying overnight, but didn’t have time to check into the hotel first. No matter, because once at the party, I got to do one of my favorite things:

Drink Color.

I had to keep a safe distance from my other adorable nephew, who brought just one toy. Yes. A scorpion. The only thing I fear more than a world without cheese.

Everyone’s a comedian.

After the party, Peppermeister and I headed a little over 20 miles north to Baltimore to check into our hotel. We paid to park, and dragged our luggage (complete with cooler full of beer, natch) a long distance through the parking deck. We anticipated issues at the front desk, because Peppermeister and his dad have the same name.

Sure enough, they didn’t have us on record. Peppermeister called his parents, who had somehow gotten to the hotel before us, despite having left the party after us.

It all soon made sense, though.

Because we were at the wrong hotel.

We’d driven 20+ miles away from the party and the correct hotel because, like Peppermeister and his dad, both hotels had the same name.

We hauled everything all the way back to the parking deck, where this happened:

Thirty minutes later, when we walked into the RIGHT hotel lobby, Peppermeister’s family members greeted us with snickers.

“How was Baltimore?” they all chortled, one by one, as we passed. (“A gauntlet of chop-busting,” Peppermeister would later call it.) I shook my head warningly in Peppermeister’s general direction, and wondered how Second Husband would have handled this situation. Probably with a sense of humor. And a song and dance routine.

I made a mental note to recommit to finding Second Husband’s cell phone number.

We got to our room and changed into casual clothes. Where were we headed for dinner?

Baltimore! A few blocks from the “wrong” hotel!

Yes, I was still laughing. And no, Peppermeister was still not. Okay. Maybe a little.

In the end, we both had a lovely time, but I called it a night after dinner and drinks.

Peppermeister and I were sound asleep by 12:30.

Annnnd…

That’s when the fire alarm went off in our room and throughout the hotel.

We stumbled to get dressed and evacuate, but found out it was a false alarm (literally). Sound asleep once more, the alarm went off again, accompanied by a seizure-inducing strobe light.

By now it was clear the alarm system had gone Charlie Sheen. If we weren’t totally sure, we would be by 5:30am. Because the alarm would go on and off for the next five hours.

“This never would have happened if we’d stayed at the wrong hotel,” I said for the hundredth time, still finding it funny.

Rachel the Magnificent.

We would have been tempted to just pack up and drive home (as some people did), except we were both drunk meeting my bloggy friend, Rache, from Rachel’s Table on the way home. There was no way I was missing out on the woman who pulled off one of the greatest slap bracelet coups of all time.

Click here to read the outcome!

Any vacations-gone-awry stories? When don’t you and your significant other see eye to eye?

How to Fold a Fitted Sheet by Babs

Hey remember when you didn’t know how to fold a fitted sheet?

Listen up, Chipmunks. We’re about to put the fitted sheet issue to bed.

You heard me.

Buckle up and wipe off your ‘stache glasses, because my remarkable mother, Babs, is about to live up to her claims.

Just remember you loved me first.

Do you have any impossible questions for Babs?

P.S. – How great is Babs, and more importantly, how much do you think I could charge to rent her out?

For the Woman Behind “Jules”

Indeed.

Well, apparently if you were born in either July or October, I like you. Have you ever noticed that? A plethora of birthdays in any given month? If not, did you notice I just used the word plethora? You probably did, because it sticks out like a sore thumb. It’s like a lot got all dressed up for a dinner party, and since it didn’t know anyone, it bought a really fancy bottle of wine from the Hamptons so it could make conversation brag about its summer home.

Anyway. My point is that you’ve already seen a post about my bloggy BFF’s birthday this month, and now today is my real-life BFF’s birthday (next up: First Husband’s birthday on Sunday! Told you).

I’ve mentioned Jenn several times before, and you’ll hear from her directly soon. She has finally succumbed to many months of what I like to call WordPressuring, and will guest post right here on Go Jules Go next week. You won’t want to miss it, and now that I’ve put it in writing, she can’t get out of it.

Happy birthday, Jenn!

I think of myself as her everything.

There’s so much I want to tell you about our 12 year-longstrong friendship. Jenn once said in a brilliant piece of writing, “Of all the reference sections in the world, Jules had to walk into mine.”

I’m pretty sure my life didn’t begin until I met Jenn, when she came to work alongside me at a little, independent bookstore in northern New Jersey. She was older, wiser, fiercely smart, hilarious and musically gifted. I was 18 and worshipped her instantly.

I could tell you more about those scandalous memoir-inspiring early days, or about the time we almost died, on a road trip lost in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

“Squeal like a pig!” Jenn quoted Deliverance, laughing, as we wound through the middle of no where, right before her new Honda Civic hung off the edge of a cliff.

Savannah, circa 2002. Five days from near death.

But then I thought of something. Something small, but maybe really big, too.

Jenn is the reason you call me Jules.

Eleven years ago, her wonderful boyfriend (now husband) started calling me Jules, as if it would have been unnatural not to. It’s not an unusual nickname for Julie, of course, but before then, only a stray gym teacher or soccer coach ever used it. Jenn ran with it, and pretty soon our tight circle of friends all called me Jules.

After many years of feeling less than, this little nickname made me feel special. I soon hated when anyone else used it. Jules was for cherished friends only.

For some reason, though, when I started this blog, I chose gojulesgo as my profile name. At the time, it was all one word, and my blog name was GoGuiltyPleasures.

Several months in, a couple of new blog buddies asked via email whether I preferred Julie or Jules. I was a little afraid to answer. Who was I to them? Who was I going to be?

But there was only ever one choice.

While I knew nothing about blogging or the friendships I would eventually make, some part of me knew that being Jules here was important. Though [in my naïveté] this blog was originally about solitary writing and portfolio building, it quickly became so much more, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Every time you call me Jules, I feel like a friend is addressing me affectionately. Let’s face it, it’s as awesome as a chipmunk hug if chipmunks didn’t have such teeny, tiny arms.

It’s why my About page and business cards say, “I sense you’re ready to take our friendship to the next level.”

Thanks to Jenn and her belief in Jules, this li’l blog is one of the most gratifying experiences of my life. Jenn has helped uncover the real me in this way and so many more, and I’m not sure there will ever be a birthday gift big enough to repay her.

But methinks going to see “Wicked” last weekend was a good start.

I love you, Jenn-a-fahhhh! (How’s that for the left-hand side of your card?)

For bloggers, what’s the story behind your blog name? To non-bloggers/all, do you have any favorite nicknames (for yourself or others)?

My Dad Saved My Life. And Then We Went to Burger King.

Recently, I may have suggested my dad was only one of the great things to come out of Long Island. The truth is, not a lot of people can do the things my dad does. Like, he can read in the car without getting sick. And he makes really good steak. Not at the same time; don’t be ridiculous.

Oh and when I was 2, I was way ahead of my time and awesome I saw a swimming pool and was like, “Deep end, here I COME!” Bam, I jumped in to join my older brother and sister, and my chubby bum sunk straight to the bottom. Without a second thought, my dad lept in to save me, breaking his glasses along the way.

I think that’s why we get along so well. I could have been all, “Well, you brought me into this world, it’s your job to keep me here,” but instead I was like, “Thanks for that, Pop. One day I’ll join the swim team and make you proud stay afloat.”

As if that wasn’t enough, he used to take me on father-daughter trips to Bowcraft, this tiny, creepy amusement park next to a highway, and then across the street to Burger King. Those were the days, back when trans fat was what was for dinner, and winning enough tickets to get chinese finger cuffs was all you needed.

My dad is also a genius. I mean, yeah, okay, the real kind with a doctorate and Ivy League-y things, but whatever. I mean the practical kind of genius. Street smarts. Case in point: We used to go on long road trips in a small car, with all three kids crammed in the backseat. It was a recipe for disaster. So he came up with something called the Points System. We earned points for being good, and got them taken away when we were bad.

If we didn’t have enough points by the time we got to Burger King, we weren’t eating.

I know, right? Genius.

Happy Father’s Day, Pop! (Does this post win me any bonus points?)

He still has his hair. And I can easily get more barrettes…

What stories about your dad make you laugh?