I ♥ JBJ

I'm not a fanatical type. I could never pull off being a groupie. I find flaws in the flawless way too easily. I see girls in the audience of concerts screaming, shaking, sobbing even, and I do not get that. At. All.

I don't know if it's a personality type or if it I just haven't met that which I could become fanatical about. Last night on tv I saw people at a rally getting Rudy Giuliani's autograph. I said to J, "uh, what are they going to do with that?" I really don't understand the fascination with one's signature. Unless you could make money off of it. Then I totally get it.

With that being said, Bon Jovi makes me all a twitter. I can't explain it. I don't even understand it myself. And you must know, this isn't an easy confession for me to make. I'd be perfectly happy to keep my infatuation with JBJ mostly to myself.

I could go into more detail about my love for him, but really there isn't much more. I don't have a lot of his paraphernalia, I only have one of his Cds, I don't even know his birthday. I just know that when I see his face I instinctively say something like, "Man, he's hot" or "Ohhh, look at that face!" or "mmmmm" and that is REALLY not like me. And I really like his music too. That might just be a happy coincidence.

When I was 12 I was in the 7th grade and the most painfully awkward tween known to man. My parents were pretty strict about music and I can't remember specifically, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't allowed to listen to rock music. It's made for some difficult times in my adult life and marriage. J will be rocking out to some song and say, "remember this song?" all ready to share some great moment with me and I have never even heard of it. And then for a few minutes, we'll have nothing in common.

Well, in 7th grade a cover band came to my junior high and performed. They were called "The Edge" I remember about 3 things from my 7th grade year. One was Steve B., one was a zit, and the other was The Edge. They played "Living on a Prayer". You wouldn't believe how hard and fast I fell for that song. I remember walking home from school that day, having just heard the song for the first time, belting out, "Whoooooooooaaaa-ohhhhhh we're HAFF WAY THERE, WHOOOOOOOO-OHHHH livin' on a prayer..." I had seen a lot of the hardships of union strikes and working for tips at a diner in my whitebread world. Or something.

Since then, pretty much any song Bon Jovi has released, I've loved. I can't say I love all his music because, as I said, I have only one of his cds. My brother got it for me at an outlet store.

Which leads me to my point: (you can search high and low in this post up to this sentence, and you wouldn't even come remotely close to my point). Today I was doing dishes and to drown out the sound of kids asking for food or diapers changed, I put on my ipod. And soon I was jamming to a slamming mixture of The Police, Shakira, and of course, my luvah--Bon Jovi.

Bed of Roses was from my high school days, working at Pizza Hut. This song was on the jukebox and I played it almost every night when the restaurant was closed and I could blast the jukebox. Listening to this song as it drowns out the sounds of needy children, it takes me back to a younger, free-er, thinner age, and I love it.

Only, now I'm 32. I'm responsible. I've graduated from college. I have three children. I balance a checkbook. I've lived a lot since those days of jukebox blasting. One thing remains, Bon Jovi is still sexy and I still love his voice on this song.

However.

I can no longer ignore something.

It is this:
"With an ironclad fist I wake up and french kiss the morning..."

What the?

What does that even mean? I know there are a lot of literary references out there that I just don't get. I know when I hear one. I think to myself, "Wow, that's deep. I have no idea what it means, but I can tell it means something." I'm okay with accepting deep, meaningful things I don't get. I am not okay with accepting random, weird things that can't possibly mean something else.

Do you know what it means? Is it some reference to Proust and I'm really that dense? For the sake of mine and Jon's relationship, I hope. I'm getting to the point in my life where I really can't take unexplained weirdness or stupidity. Life's too short.