Truth 4: People are fuckin’ hysterical

Warning, this one is a little long, so grab a coffee or a smoke, but this is one of my favorites thus far.

For some reason, people tend to email me directly instead of commenting on my post or on Facebook or (UGH) Twitter.

So, I took the first four topics/questions from my emails from you guys and answered them in this video.

The shit people say KILLS ME with giggles.

I hope you giggle too!

PS: Why do these videos all of a sudden come in sideways???? They play normal once you click play, promise. You don’t have to crook your noggin to see me right side up. 😉

Bonus Video!

Just for those who thought I should look different in every video…this one’s for you! 🙂

Oh, and I know the lighting is jacked. I didn’t want to wake the hubby at 2 a.m., and this room has awful lighting. is what it is. XO


Much love and have a fantastic weekend!


Truth 2: Be Brave

I am quite literally going to be braver in this post than I’ve EVER been in my life (excluding evil doctor-related things).

For most of my life I’ve had an insane fear, I’m mean a severe PHOBIA of singing in public.

It’s not healthy to be scared. It’s not fun.

I will not do karaoke. I won’t let anyone hear me sing in the car or shower, including the hubby.

I’m am truly blinded by the fear of people telling me I suck. And I DO! I know I can’t sing. I know I sound like a cat being gutted, but I love to sing. When I’m alone in my car I have so much fun singing my face off as loud as can be. But if anyone heard me, I’d die.

So, since Today’s Truth #2 is Be Brave, then I’m going to put my fear where my mouth is and do a few singalongs. If I could sing well, then this wouldn’t be brave. But knowing that I cannot sing well at all, well, that is my test of bravery. I’m willing to be utterly vulnerable in front of everyone, even knowing I’m tone deaf. This is my version of brave.

Please know, I’m TERRIFIED, MORTIFIED, HORRIFIED, and any other “ified” you can come up with.

Don’t be too mean in your comments.

I KNOW I hit flat notes, sharp notes, totally wrong notes, fuck up the lyrics and make people want to die. I know this. But there is a freedom in being brave that is more important than letting fear drive your life.

Bravery is glorious, scary, amazing, liberating, terrifying and so many more things. We’ll talk more about it in other posts down the line, but I’m going to share with you 3 singalongs that I did. I probably should have warmed up my voice or practiced, but it is what it is. There’s no editing, voice fixing, post-producing or anything of that nature. This is just me as raw as it gets. As vulnerable as it gets because my fear really is more a phobia than anything else. I’d rather have a spider crawl on my eyeball than sing in public. That should tell you just how brave I’m trying to be in doing this.

I think song number 3 is probably the best, but I promised myself I’d post them all. May God help your ears. 😉

Song 1: Lady Gaga: You and I

This video was inspired from nearly getting killed on the road by an asshat as we were merging off the 101. My bravery was not jumping out of my car and killing him with a hammer.

This song is so unbearably out of my vocal range that it’s ridiculous. But if you’re going to do it, do it. Just know that I KNOW this is not good. But I have to overcome my fears, regardless of what they are. Be warned!

Also, I get very tongue tied, forget how to pronounce words at the end and just fuck shit all up. It’s embarrassing, but again, NO EDITING. It is what it is. (PS: I now know why Stevie Wonder does the head shaking thing…you’ll see first hand soon enough…sorry…) 🙂

PS: Until the videos finish “processing” it looks like they are 90 degrees crooked. Once you hit play they go right side up. Technology is weird!

Song 2: John Denver: Country Roads

This video was inspired from nearly getting killed merging off the 101 onto the 202. It was not a good day for driving. Almost nearly killed twice in one damn day. My car was actually 90 degrees the wrong direction on the road and I went from 70mph to sideways to straightened out in the course of about 3 seconds. I don’t know how I’m alive or didn’t hit 10 other cars. Miracle. So I was so happy to be alive that I was inspired to try a another song in case the Lady Gaga one was so just so bad that I couldn’t post it. But, that wouldn’t be brave. So, you get this one too.

Also, I do know the word “bravery.” Why I call it “braveness” sometimes is beyond me. I was terrified and have no excuse for sucking except that I was just scared to death because I was about to or just had finished singing.

This video has some different stories in it than the Gaga song. I was going to post one or the other, but decided to go with both, so if you listen to both you’ll hear some other fun tidbits about my life. Oh, and I get a little better as the so goes on. He sings lower than my register so it’s hard for me to hit those notes, but I warm up a bit about halfway through. Again, consider yourself warned.

Song 3: Erykah Badu: Tyrone

LOVE this song! When I told my sister I was doing my self-imposed Bravery Challenge she said I should do Tyrone. How could I not thought of that!? GREAT song. Again, so out of my vocal range it’s insane. But I tried again, dammit! And I think it may be the best of the 3. Maybe. Big thanks to my sister for her suggestion. Oh, and I’ll give you her address if you wanna kill her for suggesting I sing this. I wouldn’t blame you. 😉


Remember, if I can do something that terrifies me more than death and taxes, you can too. Find your worst fear and try and overcome it. It’s so freeing!!!

I think I’ll now be able to sing in the car with the hubby present and not be terrified about being critiqued or made fun of (in his head as he’d never say it to my face). But silent critiquing is just as scary.

So, go do something wild! Go be brave! Go kick some ass! Once you’re dead you can’t, so do it while you still have the time.

God bless and much love.




Ahhhh…the good ol’ days

I got to thinking tonight, after visiting a Facebook page dedicated to the small town I grew up in, about how much fun it was to grow up in the 80s as a teenager.

Yeah, we didn’t have the Internet (eeeee gawds!).

We didn’t have cell phones.

I had to get my lazy ass off the dent in the sofa to change the channel. My tolerance for mis-aligned rabbit ears was quite high. I could watch a show even though its horizontal tuning made the picture flip up every 10 seconds.

I didn’t even have caller ID until I was 22.

My 1973 Buick LeSabre (the boat) had an AM radio that would change stations if I took a sharp turn (doing 85mph!).

That same “boat” saw tons o’ backseat action from my friends (and occasionally me) at parties at the Peach Orchard or on someone’s farm or backyard.

Good music. Great friends. Lots of beer!

Good music. Great friends. Lots of beer!

I hid my smokes and my birth control pills under the seat in my car and blamed them on my friends when my mom found them.

We had tons of parties most weekends since my mom was newly married to my ex-step-father and they’d go out and come home very late with leaves in their hair.

At those parties, everyone would throw their beer cans into the snow in the backyard, only to be discovered by my mom when the snow melted. I lied on the spot SOOOO well about where the beer cans originated that I somehow managed to not only NOT get in trouble, but garner sympathy from her.

At those same parties, we once had someone take the bananas in the fruit basket and half eat them, then stick their gooey remains all over the house to be found by my mom upon coming home. That was harder to explain than the beer cans, but I managed.

The banana sticker collection from all those dang bananas!

The banana sticker collection from all those dang bananas!

After those awesome parties, boys would toss rocks at my sister’s and my bedroom windows to get us to sneak out–we typically did! We just had to wait for either the AC or the heat to kick on as it was so loud you couldn’t hear the suction noise the front door made when it closed.

That's the rock-collecting window, me for prom and my little sis that would warn us when the parents were coming home so we could kick everyone out the back door before they pulled into the driveway. :)

That’s the rock-collecting window, me for prom and my little sis that would warn us when the parents were coming home so we could kick everyone at the party out the back door before the ‘rents pulled into the driveway. 🙂

At one of those sneak outs, I had I guy tell me we could use his dad’s hot tub. When we got to his dad’s apartment he filled the bath tub with hot water and said, “Voila! A hot tub.” No, he got no ass that night. 😉

I remember having a teacher at one of my high schools and the sluttier my friends and I would dress, the more he’d let us skip class and hang out in his office drinking his liquor and smoking stogies.

I remember another teacher who was a total perv, and I had him for 2 classes, so I skipped both of them for an entire year and right before summer break my vice principal called me into his office and asked where I’d gone for those 2 classes all year long. My response was, “Away from that pervert….” Yeah, I didn’t get in a bit of trouble. All was forgiven.

I fondly recall driving by hot guys’ houses and writing in chalk on the road in front of their houses things like “You’re hot.” God, what a doofus.

Once, I went to the Rock-n-Roll Revival (an awesome music show my HS put on) and doodled my love for a certain guy all over the show’s program while leaving comments (most of them flattering) next to all of the cast members’ names, then stupidly dropping it in the floor instead of the trash can so that EVERYFUCKINGONE could read it. I still feel bad about doodling that one girl had duck feet. She was so nice and I didn’t expect for anyone else to lay eyes on it.

That's my smokin' hot sister on the left in the Rock-n-Roll Revival.

That’s my smokin’ hot sister on the left in the Rock-n-Roll Revival.

I loved making mix tapes for boyfriends and misery tapes after the breakup. Kids nowadays have no idea how hard it is to skip through every radio station looking for THE song so you could get it on tape, just to miss the first 5 seconds. That wonderful stress of NEEDING that song but knowing the challenge you faced actually finding it for your tape.

I remember putting bologna slices all over a dickbag’s car because, well, he was a dickbag. Boy was he pissed (that was as bitchy as I ever got, and I know it wasn’t really nice). But seriously, he was such a dick, he had it comin’.

I recall when one of my best friends kicked the glass panel in the exit door by the Ertzman Theater and put her foot through it. Yep, their was blood.

I used to get such a thrill out of running away from Jack the Hall Monitor at my first high school and buying Ruby the Hall Monitor at my second HS some McDonalds so that she’d let me skip and not bust me.

I thoroughly enjoyed wearing bra tops and miniskirts with 4-inch heels to school ’cause, yeah, that’s appropriate.

I was terrified when a different vice principal at my second HS came and dragged me out of my 12th grade English class to “explain” the state of my locker to him. It was OUR locker, not my locker. But luckily for my locker-mates, they all just happened to not be in school that day, so I had to scrub the fucking thing clean with Ajax while wearing those 4-inch heels. Oh, and yes, I was MORTIFIED by the nasty shit written in that locker when the VP was standing next to me. We had drawn perversion all over it. It was awesome!

Try and read all that naughty stuff! Good grief!

Try and read all that naughty stuff! Good grief!

I longingly remember making out with sexy boys and not letting them get to 2nd base because I liked being a good girl (sometimes, not ALL the time!).

Faces have been blurred to protect the innocent! 😉

I loved going to OC (the beach at Ocean City) and not going to sleep until the sun came up and praying no one would smell the pot under the door of the hotel. I never had a desire to go to jail.

Yeah, that smoke is not from cigs. ;)

Yeah, that smoke is not from cigs. 😉

Walking a mile in deep snow to get to the High’s for an ice cream cone was awesome and well worth it.

The High's was on the right, just as you entered the shopping center. It was awesome.

The High’s was on the right, just as you entered the shopping center. It was amazing.

I’d make visits to the Sandy Spring Bank, all dolled up and smelling pretty, to go flirt with an old flame.

Sandy Spring Bank

And I’d eat at “The Deli” with my mom all the time. They had the best grilled provolone on Rye with tomato sandwiches and veggie soup I’ve ever had!

My mommy in front of The Deli. Yum!

My mommy in front of The Deli. Yum!

All of these things I loved so very much and I miss my hometown all the time.

To all of you who grew up around the same era as me, I hope you had as much fun as I did.

And much love to all of the wicked, naughty friends I had that contributed to my debauchery! I know I corrupted a few of you back, and damn was it fun! XOXOXOXO

The Start to my Wicked Life of Debauchery!

Well, it had to start sometime.

I didn’t come out of the chute like this.

All this sassiness and naughtiness and perversion sprouted from somewhere.

Below is a glimpse into how it all began (there’s video too!).

Jodi with Hung Jury at The Rage Baltimore City June 7 1991

When I was just a wee mite of a girl, just twenty one (and two days), I did my first interview as a host for a local TV show called Rock Live. I’d pop around all over Baltimore and DC interviewing bands, drooling over hot musicians, you know, typical girl stuff. 🙂

It was such a fun job and I met so many talented, amazing people. I also got chased all over DC by a car full of boys with bad intent while my producer was doing 100 mph trying desperately to find a cop who could help. Ultimately, it was a McDonald’s parking lot with a cop eating an ice cream cone that saved us. Whew!

But, I digress…

Most of the time, it was a blast. And this very first interview was, I think, the best. It was all so fresh and new and exciting.

Now, when I say “best” I don’t mean me. I SUCKED! Wow. I mean, wow. I was not a good interviewer yet. And my accent? Good lord. That is one U.G.L.Y. accent. I pronounced my own name wrong! How is that possible? My name is not spelled Jouudi. That’s what you get for growing up near Baltimore with a mom with a southern accent and a dad with a DC accent. A muddled nightmare! Luckily, I managed to murder that accent pretty quickly after hearing it for the first time on-air. Who wouldn’t? That shit was awful, as you will soon hear.

So, even though I may not have been the greatest interviewer (…and the award for Greatest Understatement goes to Jodi!), it was still an amazing night where I made some good friends. Plus, can we all say it together: Sexy boys rule! 😉 (No disrespect to the hubby as he is my ULTIMATE sexy boy!)

Jodi with Hung Jury at The Rage Baltimore City June 7 1991 Kisses

Date: June 7th, 1991

Location: The Rage, Baltimore City

The Band: Hung Jury

Enjoy (and feel free to make hideous fun of me…I can take it…really, I can…I swear…well…). 😉