I consider it my inner goddess-given duty to embrace these endeavors with both Zest and Zeal, so that you may one day be willing to accept your own guilty pleasure spirit.
Me, embracing “Fifty Shades” with life coaches, Zest and Zeal. …What did you think I meant?
Second of all – Jimmy! Yes! It happened! Peppermeister and I saw a taping of Late Night with Jimmy Fallon on Friday. While I’d hoped to provide you with a picture of Jimmy “Hotter than Christian Grey” Fallon in ‘stache glasses, the NBC knuckleheads had other ideas. Please forgive the mundane photos:
Things that may interest you about the experience:
1.) I’m not special. Click here if you want tickets to a taping. It’s free!
2.) Questlove and his ‘fro Jimmy might be the only celebrity I’ve ever seen who looks bigger in person than on TV. (In a good way. Oh yes.) Seth MacFarlane, of Ted Family Guy fame, looked much thinner. …Am I the only one who thinks Seth MacFarlane is full of secrets?
I’m just saying I think “Stewie” comes from a dark place.
3.) They taped out of order because Blake Lively got “stuck in traffic.” I suspect it was really because she was artfully cutting holes in both her shirt and pants before taking the stage.
It must have taken forever.
4.) Jimmy only talked to the audience once between breaks (to explain #3), but ran through the crowd to shake hands, an end-of-show custom. He was friendly, but takes his job seriously, mouthing cue cards and talking to suits between breaks. Except for that one break where I caught him staring at me. This may be a slight exaggeration.
This is what comes up when I Google Image search “Jimmy Fallon serious.”
And lastly but certainly not leastly, speaking of things that are hot, The Byronic Man [and his weekly contest]! Yeah! That’s right! I said HAWT. Let’s all pause and stare at him!
What a tease.
Oh, and, please vote for me in his current Question of the Week contest, where I’m a finalist for suggesting Forrest Gump would be much improved with the addition of dragons. I know Titanic should win, but as the Fifty Shades series sold 15 million copies, I think we can all agree life is unfair.
(If you’re really not sure I deserve it, that’s okay. I forgive you. I’ve got next week’s contest in the bag.)
Have I told you how hot YOU’RE looking lately? My. This weather really agrees with you. If I had a Red Room of Pain, you’d so be invited.
Have I missed any guilty pleasures you’ve got going on? Any summer reading recommendations? ‘Fess up, Chipmunks.
P.S. – NOT hot: My blog disappearing from your WordPress Readers and inboxes. I have written a strongly-worded letter to the WordPress overlords, but am still trying to hunt down their address. In the meantime, click here repeatedly to ensure you don’t miss anything. (Or, you know, just assume I try to post 2-3 weekdays/week at 6am EST.)
When I was 16, I worked at an independent bookstore in an affluent town in northern New Jersey. My first job. The owners trusted me with everything from the keys to their kids.
It was a great job, even if it paid peanuts. I still get mad when people assume I got to read all day. I didn’t. There were books to order and file, display windows to arrange, and customers to rip off encourage to support their local business.
On the weekends, the store would often host book signings. The authors were never particularly famous or popular, and I’d sometimes have to entertain them for 3 hours because no one showed up.
Like this.
One day, we had an author of romance novels come in. You know the kind. Mass market paperbacks, with Fabio and a blonde-haired woman in a too-tight corset on the cover. The titles would scream words like “Destiny” and “Stallion” and “Get a life.”
I had no idea what to expect as I waited for the author to arrive, but it wasn’t the woman who came into the store that Saturday morning.
She was a plump, middle-aged woman who looked like she was about to bake a cake. She was nice as could be. She might have been your mother.
I couldn’t believe how much I enjoyed chatting with her.
“I paid for all of my kids to go to college with these books,” she told me, while I tried to scoop my chin off the floor.
How could that be? I thought. I’ve never even heard of this woman.
I was never quite the same after that. Seeing the face behind the throbbing parts and quickening pulses did something to me. I had a whole new level of respect for the books I once thought belonged in the slush pile.
Which brings us to present day.
I finally picked up FiftyShades of Grey this weekend. My mom, Babs, was kind enough to leave the trilogy behind on Father’s Day.
As you know, on top of the story I just shared, I have absolutely zero qualms when it comes to being a sheep, never mind indulging in guilty pleasures. That is the name of my shame game, Chipmunks, and I let that freak flag soar.
Baa.
But I barely made it past the first line.
Because that line was:
I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror.
And should have been:
I scowl in the mirror.
I doggedly read on, and watched the author blatantly steal the entire premise of Twilight. Except instead of vampires, we have a sadomasochist* on our hands. I think. I’m only a few chapters in, but I’m hooked I can promise you this isn’t the last you’ll be hearing on the topic (right, Renee?).
You’re welcome in advance.
Have you read it? How do you feel about romance novels?
*I know! Same diff! And you thought I was shameless.
So, I maybe had a little too much to drink the other night, and started having an imaginary conversation with Second Husband, Darren Criss (of “Glee” fame). This is that conversation.
Honestly, I’m surprised this doesn’t happen more often.
GO JULES GO: I love you so much. I don’t even care if that makes you uncomfortable.
SECOND HUSBAND: Um…
GO JULES GO: It’s funny you say that. When I was about to molest First Husband, he had a similar reaction.
SECOND HUSBAND: Um…
GO JULES GO: Yes! Exactly like that. I was all, “Do you think I’m pretty?” and he was all, “Um…” and I was like, “How would you feel if I did something stupid right now?” and he was like, “Um…” and then I attacked him.
SECOND HUSBAND: Guest…post? Is that like when you fill in for someone on security duty?
GO JULES GO: Ha ha! There is so much I can teach you, Second Husband! Let us start with the rules of plural marriage.
SECOND HUSBAND: I don’t like where this is going.
GO JULES GO: Oh, don’t be coy. You know I saved the best for last.
SECOND HUSBAND: So you’re stopping at two husbands? How am I supposed to believe that?
GO JULES GO: Well, if you’d just grow a handlebar mustache I’d feel a lot better about making this official.
SECOND HUSBAND: I would rock the shiz out of a handlebar mustache.
GO JULES GO: I know you would. And you just said shiz.
SECOND HUSBAND: So?
GO JULES GO: So I love you.
THE END
Who are you having imaginary conversations with?
***SUPER IMPORTANT ALERT THAT YOUR HAPPINESS PROBABLY DEPENDS ON: I’m wrapping up the Go Guilty Pleasures slap bracelet extravaganza, so if you have any unseen slap bracelet pictures, the deadline is THIS WEDNESDAY, JUNE 6th. I hope you’ll send them to me at Julie.Davidoski@yahoo.com. Oh and I think you’re swell. Even if you don’t have a slap bracelet.***
Oh sure. This looks like a precious baby book to YOU. But what’s inside would make Stephen King cry.
Okay. We all know I have a great family, yadda yadda, and things couldn’t have been that bad growing up if I was on a swim team and had the language skills to say “Oh! Bless you!” after I heard someone cut the cheese when I was 2, blah blah blah…
Oh yeah. It’s all fine and dandy in the beginning.
…but there’s a dark side to my childhood.
I’m lulling you into a false sense of security with my sparse ‘cute’ pictures.
I’m revealing the horror thanks to an exceptional blog called Childhood Relived. At Childhood Relived, Angie Z. focuses on growing up in the 80s, which I think we can all agree is inherently funny. But her quick-wit and memory to match make this blog a non-stop Giggle Fest. I can tell you from corresponding with Angie via email that she is an extremely talented writer, both in and outside of the blogosphere.
Angie has an ongoing Dynomite! contest in which readers submit their most embarrassing childhood pictures.
I don’t know what possessed me to enter.
Because what began as this:
I wish that t-shirt still fit.
Somehow turned into, well, click here to find out.
***SUPER IMPORTANT ALERT THAT YOUR HAPPINESS PROBABLY DEPENDS ON: I’m wrapping up the Go Guilty Pleasures slap bracelet extravaganza, so if you have any unseen slap bracelet pictures, I hope you’ll send them to me at Julie.Davidoski@yahoo.com. Oh and I think you’re swell. Even if you don’t have a slap bracelet.***
Some people might be reading this and scratching their heads. I say ‘some people’ like a lot of people will read this. But my blog, much like your career, is grossly underappreciated.
Anyway, Tom. I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re pretty special. You’re the unsung hero of The Food Network’s Restaurant: Impossible. That strange-looking, beefy guy seems to get the lion’s share of the attention. But all he has to do is yell
I think you’re taller than him, Tom.
at people. He even yells at you, Tom! You’re the man who makes it all happen! You turn that failing restaurant into a shining masterpiece, with only two minutes and six dollars.
You are sexy grace under pressure, Tom, but I worry you will soon crack if someone doesn’t give you the credit you so deserve.
I was so proud of you, Tom, when you decided to branch out from your carpentry responsibilities, and take on the design, too. Who needs that petite brunette, right? I’m sure you were sick of someone telling you lime green is a good idea. And look at those lamp shades you made from scrap wood! You can do anything, Tom.
Look, Tom. YOU did this.
Please tell that man with the muscles that you want a raise or you’re walking your wares right over to HGTV.
Love and chipmunks remote controlling the universe,
gojulesgo
~*~*~*~*~*
What’s your favorite food/restaurant-themed show right now?
Yesterday Babs and I headed into Manhattan to see Second Husband, Darren Criss, in his Broadway debut: “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.” To say I was looking forward to this day is like saying a Friendly’s Reese’s peanut butter cup sundae is ‘just okay.’ After weeks of preparing my Why Polygamy is the Right Choice For You presentation for Second Husband, the day had finally arrived.
I laid out my outfit. The guilty pleasure gods blessed me with an unseasonably warm, sunny Saturday, and I didn’t even need the gloves and jacket vest!
Uncle Jesse is torn, because while he appreciates my exceptional taste, he knows this means I'm leaving him.
I took extra care doing my make-up, and debated waterproof vs. regular mascara. Would seeing Second Husband in the flesh reduce me to tears?
Some decisions are just too important to take lightly.I took my chances with regular mascara. Mostly because it takes whale fat, rubbing alcohol and three to four woodland fairies to get waterproof mascara off.
I then consulted Babs and put my hair in her favorite style.
That perfect "oh I'm trying...but not TOO hard" up-do.
Feeling spiffy, we headed in on the 2:42 train, with the goal of getting to the “How to Succeed” stage door by 4pm. This way, we could hopefully score an autograph from Second Husband after the 2pm matinée performance.
I'm ready for you, Second Husband! And you can't even see my freakin' awesome footwear. (Thanks, Payless! Who knew pleather calf-high boots could be so comfortable?)
Once at the Al Hirschfeld theater stage door, we secured a decent spot on line, right against a barricade.
No one needs to know I'm 29 years old...right?
I chatted up the adorable girl next to me, Christie. She had seen the play the night before, and had come back to try to meet Darren. I told her I only had the Warblers CD for him to sign, and she gave me an extra Playbill! I was thrilled to reciprocate with the latest and greatest in cutting-edge fashion, a GoGuiltyPleasures slap bracelet.
Slap bracelets make friends.
We waited about 45 minutes, and the crowd thickened. Babs and I met another lovely mother-daughter duo, Anne and Molly, who definitely helped the time pass pleasantly. After quickly assessing their chipmunkitude, I covered them in slap bracelets. Interest in my bracelets grew, but I was running out. I had to save one for Second Husband, after all!
Beau Bridges and the female lead, Rose Hemingway, came out to sign autographs. They both graciously acknowledged my “Thank you SO much!” with sweet smiles and eye contact, solidifying my hunch that I could win Second Husband over as easily with my overdone undeniable charm.
Those lips smooch Second Husband Every. Night.
An hour and a half into the wait, I started to get restless, especially because I was late meeting the glorious JM Randolph (of Accidental Stepmom fame) and her husband for dinner. I kept her updated with texts: “Sooo sorry! He’s still not out yet!” She was very understanding. It was Second Husband.
After two hours, my feet were starting to feel the burn and I was ready to do this thing. The jokester security guard suddenly said, “We’re shutting it down!” I thought he was kidding, but watched in disbelief as he started removing all of the barricades. “The cops are shutting it down,” he explained. “There are too many people on the sidewalk.”
Sure, there were probably about 150 of us waiting in a line down the sidewalk, but, but, but… c’mon!! Everyone was being very patient and calm. Sigh. No Second Husband, and me with extra room in my heart.
Not too shabby. By the way, all of the posters featuring Second Husband were already sold out! You go, Darren!
I may not have gotten to meet Second Husband, but I DID get to meet the gorgeous and charming JM Randolph and her HILARIOUS hub. We missed having dinner with them because they had to get back to work, but we had a nice chat and will hopefully get to cash in on a rain check soon.
Babs and I, starving, and more importantly, libation-less, headed down the block to 45th and 9th Ave. to try our luck at Justin Timberlake’s restaurant, Southern Hospitality (he might not be bringing sexy back, but I guess bringing baby back ribs will do for now). The wait time was 45 minutes, but the cute host caught a glimpse of my Playbill, and after I shared the details of my autograph fail, he told us we could eat in the downstairs lounge/bar, if we didn’t mind. We didn’t! We got to eat and drink on a luxurious leather couch, the service was quick (key when you have an 8 o’clock curtain) and the food was very good. The lounge was quickly overrun with twenty-somethings, and suddenly a guy walked in and the group whooped and hollered. We realized we were in the middle of a surprise party. Er….surprise!! We got the check and skidattled.
Everywhere we went, we heard the name ‘Darren Criss.’ New York City seemed to have traded in its cool indifference for superfandom. (I fit right in.) Back at the theater, we made our way to our right orchestra aisle seats and I spotted lots of folks from Darren’s theater company, StarKid.
Joe Walker of StarKid fame sat right in front of us, which meant I got to see two tweens nearly hyperventilate while asking for an autograph.
When Darren descended from the ceiling as a window washer in the opening scene, the crowd went berserk. His StarKid friends/college mates were ecstatic. They grinned wildly and pointed to each other – their friend! On Broadway! It was a treat to witness.
Darren’s performance was hilarious, captivating and exuberant. (I’m being as objective as I can, I swear.) His enthusiasm, combined with the audience’s energy, made the two and a half hour show fly by. (If you read my lukewarm post about seeing the very same play back in April, when Daniel Radcliffe was the star, you know that I’m not always as easily won over.) Darren made the performance seem effortless, the way only great actors can. To think he only had two weeks to rehearse! And yeah, he looked drop-dead, too!
I should mention there’s a whole ‘fight song’ about a rivalry with a school whose mascot is a chipmunk. A chipmunk! I heard Second Husband say chipmunk!!! Babs nudged me so hard I almost landed at the peep show next door.
He was actually smiling throughout the curtain call, but I think in this moment he realized he didn't get a slap bracelet.
We didn’t have the stamina to try to get an autograph after the show, since we weren’t sure Darren would come out (he did…double sigh), but we made the 11:11 train, which was a miracle in and of itself. I lose at least two pounds every time I go into the city. (To see some great pictures of Darren from January 7th that Babs DIDN’T take, click here.)
The night ended with a text from Peppermeister: “How was it? Am I still your ONLY husband?”
Photo credit (before my professional-quality annotation): playbill.com
In preparation for January 7th, when I shall have my opportunity to see Second Husband, Darren Criss, in the flesh (in his Broadway debut: “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying“), I’ve been diligently working on my Why Polygamy is the Right Choice for You presentation. (As a project manager by trade*, I think I have a gift for expressing myself in animated clip art. I’m sure you’ll agree.)
Take a look!
So, what do you think? If you were a brilliant actor with the voice of an angel and a face that could turn a heart of stone to unicorn tears, would this win you over? (Be honest. This is important.)
Okay. Maybe not sexiest. Unless you’re into that kind of thing. (I’m a guilty pleasure blogger. I don’t judge.)
As you might recall, Uncle Jesse, our [not quite] 2-year-old Australian Labradoodle, had his first photo shoot last month, and the 130+ pictures arrived on Christmas Eve! Thanks, Jenn and Joseph Frazz Photography!
Are you ready for this, celebratory chipmunks?! These were taken in our yard, and yes, we have a giant flag painted on a board on the back fence, courtesy of the original homeowners. (We’re thinking of adding flags from around the world, whaddya think?)
Prepare yourselves for hunk-itude:
And my personal favorite:
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
How are you celebrating (besides putting your supermodel dog in a gold bow tie? Oh wait, is that just me?)? Any resolutions?
This post came very close to being a review of the Yule Log offerings on Comcast OnDemand (Yule Dogs?! Hello! Awesome!). But really all I want to say is: I hope you have a very Merry Christmas! May it be filled with peace, laughter and love spiked egg nog, cold hard cash, and the satisfaction of looking better than all of your relatives.
My gift to you me? Why, a magical Christmas combo: my favorite holiday song, sung by the one and only, Second Husband:
Think of all the poor little children without denim in 2001.
I forgave you for the denim suit you wore to the American Music Awards in 2001. I forgave you for the cornrows you wore to…lots of places. But when you stopped going on tour and took up acting? Well, that one still smarts.
You’re a top-notch performer, J.T. We can all appreciate that (even the macho-macho-men). But that’s not acting.
Look at them! They're so straight and...teeth-y.
I’m so sorry.
I’m sorry because I love you. You have beautiful teeth.
Please remember that as I tell you I’ve finally figured out why you can’t act (something I’ve been pondering ever since I saw Model Behavior on ABC):
I wanted to like it. I really did.
You’re too confident and famous.
You have NO idea what it’s like to be normal. That’s not an insult. You just don’t. Why would you? It’s kind of like the way I don’t know how to be cool, or how to end an awkward conversation.
When you act, you try to pretend you’re the nice guy who finishes last, but it’s just pretend. I think you think by using your ‘breathy voice’ that you’re conveying vulnerability, but you’re not.
Oh. I feel so bad saying this. Did I mention I love you? You’re the only one who can bring sexy back.
But the thespian thing, it’s just not working out. I mean, you’ve been in some REALLY good movies. You’re tall and handsome. But I still don’t believe you. You’re not a superhero or the guy next door or the smarmy entrepreneur.
Go Jules Go 