music for married people.

digging through the closet in a half drunken attempt to clean, i came across the shoebox of wedding cards and left-over wedding favors - vin and my mix cd  'vincent and jodi: songs to give you cavities"

here's the tracklisting, we have plenty left-over, so if you want one for xmas, maybe santa can slip one under the sheets? its' a good journey thru vin/my sappy jamz.

(or not). regardless, it's a fun lesson - i think even singlez could enjoy.

1) the flamingos- i only have eyes for you
2) jose gonzalez - heartbeats
3) pixies -gigantic
4) wolf parade - this heart's on fire
5) wild flag - romance
6) beck - think i'm in love
7) robyn - indestructible
8) cut copy - hearts on fire
9) handsome furs - i'm confused
10) hall & oates - you make my dreams
11) mates of state - like u crazy
12) the cure -friday i'm in love
13) bloc party - this modern love
14) yeah yeah yeahs - maps
15) thee oh sees - if i stay too long
16) nouvelle vague - i melt with you

2011's hits & misses

so it's that time again. the time where jodi is finally de-stressed enough, with a night to herself with no immediate chores/objectives, and just the comfort of her sweat pants, a bottle of yellow tail merlot, the opportunity to run around the empty apartment flashing her tits at the dumbstruck felines, and do whatever the hell she wants. and comes back ashamed to her long term neglected poor excuse for a blog. (hell, it beats folding laundry). just realized it happens to be november, as in the END of november. it's hard to realize this, given i just biked to the radio station after slumming the day off away, wearing only a track jacket hoodie to boot, but eff it, who needs to complain about the mysterious pleasantries? digging the new m83 album, contemplating if there are any additional purchase worth scavenging for at reckless before family burb holiday time tomorrow while the spouse slumbers, but instead i'm focusing on what worked vs. what didn't, this past year in music.

was a pretty nuts year for me. didn't focus so much on the regular rigamarol of musics in 2011. but that doesn't mean there weren't some solid beats slapped on the ole iPod. here's my list so far. perhaps if i get motivated enough before year's end i'll provide summaries of explanation, but without further ado - here's miss jodi robin (root) sassana's top o' the pops.

what i've been listening to (this past week):
1) M83 - hurry up, we're dreaming
2) doomtree - no kings
3) mike & the censations (michael james kirkland) - don't sell your soul
4) dead presidents soundtrack - (yeah, i know it's been around forever, but i'm finally getting my flirt on with my crucial soul roots)

what's made an impact (this past year)
1) jay-z & kanye west - watch the throne

2) pj harvey - let england shake
3) sims - bad time zoo
4) mike & the censations - don't sell your soul5) thao & mirah - self-titled
6) lady gaga - born this way
7) yacht - shangri-la
8) doomtree- no kings
9) lykke li - youth novels
10) wild flag - self-titled

11) tennis - cape dory
12) panda bear - tomboy

honorable mentions (as in, wasn't really expecting much but wound up listening more than i realized)
 1) cut copy - zonoscope

2) shabazz palaces - black up


the second date slump
(anticipated top tens of the year, but alas, sadly admitted long-term let-downs, but still solid b/c i heart these guys so much, but let's be honest here, after forcing myself on repeat for 2-3 weeks post-release, i kinda forgot they dropped; just lost that first impression spark :( - (aka 2010's - spoon transference )
1) lil wayne - tha carter iv
2) bon iver - bon iver

3) atmosphere - the family sign
4) tv on the radio - nine types of light
5) bright eyes - the people's key
6) the go team! - rolling blackouts
7) radiohead - the king of limbs
8) the decemberists - the king is dead


downright terrible (and mad at myself for buying into the hype)
1) tyler the creater - goblin

the dream: carrion crawler (empty bottle, thee oh sees remix)

got plans pre-blackfriday/thursday/wednesday? you know, the nite the real kewl kids come out to play? now you do. empty bottle still has tix on sale. come hither, bitches, and see what miss jodi missed out on in a drunken stupid three quarters into what should have/would have been a super stellar solid set some 5 months prior. thee oh sees are scheduled to rock the empty bottle for two sets, one at 7 for ya'll nerds, and another at 10 for the super kewl dudez (such as yrs truly).

like cool-io, i'll c u when u get thurrr. shit will be bananas.

no kings.

ok, so maybe 'ye & jay got my top vote for numero uno for 2011. but fuck if doomtree don't give this egotistical duo a run for their money. (& i just downloaded this noise approx. 1.5 hrs ago, post lame work happy hour).

doomtree 4ever.

my last day as a single lady.

it rained today. kinda, a lot. i know cuz i was stuck walking in it in a pretty soaked jacket. i really need to get windshield wipers on my glasses, i think - couldn't see a damn thing.

it was my first of 14 days off of work. pretty intense, because that job of mine has consumed 99% of my existence for the past 6 months, and i was pretty nervous to transition the madness on my recently hired soon to be sister in law. don't want her hating me when i come back. she's a tough cookie, though, and can take it.

last night some colleagues from the office took me out for a 'bachelorette' party (although my real one with penis paraphanalia and justin bieber goodies def was waaaaay better and raunchier) at some overpriced irish pub downtown after work. kind of awkward, but also kind of awesome. dr. perlman bought me a shot of citron, and several martinis were consumed, which led to an urgent affair with the porcelain throne soon after my arrival back to the apartment, around 8:30 or so last night. (i'm old, lame, whatever).

the warm wishes and presents from my work acquaintences has been so incredible. i never thought i'd get as much loot as we did from co-workers, but it's definitely helping. turns out planning and implementing a last minute move across neighborhoods and maintaining a comfortable lifestyle in lakeview east isn't the cheapest. but fuck it, we live on the lakefront now. and have furniture. and vinyl. and big tvs. and color coordinated toothbrush holders/soap dispensers/bathroom garbage can sets.

life is comfortable. and sexy. i'm marrying a pretty good catch, tomorrow. his name is vincent. i met him almost 2 years ago, when i began dating a friend of his. this friend, wasn't the fit i wanted in my life at the time. took me on a bumpy emotional rollercoaster of a journey for an entire year. then, as i finally jumped off that dizzying ride, emotionally drained, there was vincent. full of affection and mentally, emotionally and physically, the partner i'd been seeking for all that time. without realizing it. i was very aloof at first, not really ready to break the whole 'bro's b4 ho's' code, but no matter how much i tried to pretend we didn't have an immediate spark, we both knew we did. things got messy for a little while, but after an 'anonymous' love letter, some mystery flowers delivered at my office, and a handful of semi-regular reoccuring 'team friendship' hangout seshes, we inevitably succumbed to our previously denied (by me) romance one liquid courage fueled ridiculous non-date fun night.

we never really turned back, after that. we courted (does that still happen?) for a couple weeks to which point we crossed the official bf/gf bridge. had a lot of fun continuing to get to know one another. butterflies. late night talks. really delicious (too much so) co-cooking dates. a ton of really bad redbox movies. family introductions. a trip to mexico. then, come june 19, 2011, one random bike ride to budacki's turned into a marriage proposal. (in our underpants on a mattress in a bedroom decorated with only a ratted russian doll and a bloody jesus crucifix and a calligraphy poster which read SILENCE). i said yes.

one month post engagement, mr. sassana moved into my dungeon of a garden apartment in the dirty, less hip side of wicker park. we went to jewel a lot. played mario kart. (after we co-invested in a wii together, there was 'no turning back now'). then we purchased a 40 inch flat screen television (now we're definitely in this for the long run). adopted a second cat, the notoriously naughty and awful biter, elliott. we continued to grow and evolve, and became the bestest of friends. had an engagement party that went quite well, thanks to our warm and caring friends and family, and their endless support.

then one day, i woke up and couldn't breathe. not because of my bff 4 lyfe, but literally. and neither could vincent. our apartment had turned into an ant infested dust trap, and living with a 3rd roommate just wasn't working out anymore. i branched out on one of my infamous instant gratification desires to do something new and NOW. 'let's move out,' i said. he said, 'yeah, sure, i can't wait.' but didn't realize i already had a plan in mind. in less than a week, i had arranged for my cousin to relocate from wisconsin, take over my lease in the garden unit, moved to chicago and started a job with my company. vincent got us our dream apartment through his employer, and we now live in a nicer home i've ever had. we have nice things. we clean our apartment together. but shit, was stressful. between moving, working, and barely having a day and half together, we didn't have the time we wanted to prepare for our life together, but we made it work somehow anyway. thanks to friends, family for helping us with our move and planning our wedding on our behalf.

and now here it is, 6:49pm. the night before go-time. vin's in the bedroom, reading a book. the kitties are jingling with their collar bells, and i'm wrapped up in a beautiful granny shawl just presented to me by my good friend sarah, hand knitted just in time for the wedding tomorrow. my nails are freshly manicured, hair dyed, eyebrows waxed, house cleaned, everything except our honeymoon luggage packed.

i'm getting married, tomorrow. to the love of my life - who yes i admit, i haven't known all that long. but even though we may not have met in person years ago, i feel like i've known him (or at least knew of him) my entire life. i wrote about him in my childhood journals, wrote wretched poetry in my highschool years yearning of an intellectual and physical counterpart, and here he is.

tomorrow, i become mrs. jodi robin root sassana. (shit ain't hyphenated, though, just keeping root as a middle name). we're going to celebrate with our friends and family, and then jet off to jamaiaca for a whole week. although i'll miss my babies, i'm pretty sure caroline/renee will take good care of miss mols and els in our absence.

here's to the ending of one chapter, and beginning to a new one - the start to my long overdue and much anticipated, happy ending.

i love you, vincent.

fall is my favorite.

while it seems impossible for me to evade stress longer than quarter hour intervals, i'm really fucking happy its finally autumn. i guess i never really realized that this is my favorite season. being a bratty spoiled lil piglet, i always presumed summer was the best - school was out, then it was tommy bartlett time, then it was suntanning on the rooftop, unemployed benders with the crew. . . but after this past summer, my energies of youthful regrets went ignored. instead i complained about the heat and cursed the upstairs neighbor with control of the central air thermostat. hid in my dungeon basement unit, only crawling out for the occassional free show or pitchfork. but now that it's autumn, man oh man.

something about the cool breeze at night. the smell of the rain. the chill up my spine in the morning when i finally crawl my lazy ass out of bed. not to mention that nothing makes me feel sexier or more confident than wearing a pair of comfortable skinny jeans, sneakers and a cozy zip up hoodie. for a while i tried to fight this boring ass girl-boy style, but now i relish in it. too bad i cant get hitched in my acid washed forever 21 jeans and my pixies hoodie. . . oh well, the pin-up bride motif i got rockin will have to do, i spose. . .

something about the season takes me back to being 14-15 in argyle. god, i actually kind of miss that place. i would love to go home for a 3 day weekend, but with all the upcoming events and life changes, don't think i can swing it. maybe in january. . . i miss kicking dirty ass moldy wet leaves in my cara beth burnside signature skater vans. drawstring brown baggy jeans from maurice's, and my red and black zip up flannel. blue lipstick. unplucked eyebrows. flat chest. infinity angst and burning scorn. writing desperate letters of desire and affection for an escape and a love in my 9th grade journal. the days when i swore that sublime, beastie boys and blink 182 all tied for best band ever award. (not drinking, ever). pretending to be a skateboarder. working nearly every single highschool football game concession stand to raise funds for whatever miscellaneous nerd club i was involved with happened to be sponsoring that week. going to the goetz theater in monroe. wal-mart.

it seems as if my life finally began in fall. in the year of 1998, was it? 1997? not sure. it was one of those, though. and then suddenly i blinked and all of highschool was ancient history. and then college. and now here i am in chicago, 5 years plus going strong. about to get married. working a big girl job. wondering what will come next. already got a new cat. (thank god). cats are awesome. ANIMALS RULE. i wish i could still pull off blue lipstick (or maybe begin to pull off, not sure i rocked it right the first time around). i wish my fashion sense still consisted of oversized bad alterna-band t-shirts ordered from music mail catalogues, vans sneakers, feather boas, super tight bra-less camisoles, plastic vests and baggy jeans. i was a fashionista.

and i didn't give a damn. i worked my little ass off bussing tables. writing poetry. yearning for more.

now i do give a damn. still working my (no longer) little ass off, but this time in politics. at least politics of the office sort. not really writing poetry. not really yearning for more. i mean, sure i want - but my wants have changed. instead of dreaming some big bold aspiration of moving across the world and becoming super famous and rubbing it in every asshole hater/hateress's faces - i now just want a kitty/boyfriend snuggle party. and maybe some bubblebaths every now and then. (and a new apartment!!!)

but anyway. fall is my favorite. i better enjoy it while it's here. i only have a month before it's time to hang up the rooty ways and settle on down for good. and then it's jamaica. who the hell wants to come back to chicago in november after a week at a tropical getaway honeymoon? not this girl.

man, i wish i had some apple cider and a good ass book and my dude to cuddle up to right now. oh well, this rain fragrant breeze and holey ass rainbow afghan and biting kitten are a second win, i spose.

done rambles. sleep now.

35 Days Until. . . .

these things dj at my wedding reception. if any ya'll heart me, YOU WILL MAKE THIS HAPPEN. 11/4/11, happy village. KITTIES ON DEXXX. they be playin me some hall & oates on da real.

introducing miss elliott root-sassana

reason number i-lost-count why i wanna (and will, in 55 days to be exact, at least according to our target wedding registry) marry mr. v. sassana - he asked if we could get a 2nd cat. while our initial plans and dreams of adopting a white tiny fluffball male kitten named lyle were diminished (he didn't exist), we did find a 2nd best option--a tiny, 10 month old grey tabby girl by some lame ass name of 'feist'. b/c she was like, feisty, or something. whatever. we adopted that kitten cuz she cuddled the shit outta us and was cute as hell. took her home, and she drools everywhere and refuses to leave the comforts of our bed or her grey kitty bed (that looks like her! ps - i know what ya'll are thinking, mols is mos def not feeling any sort of reverse favoritism, she too got an orange cat bed that looks like her from walgreens - i'm a very considerate cat lady like that).

anyway. this kat is super kewl. mols and elliott don't even h8 each other. (not like creepy cousin kronos). and she's our baby. so that's pretty kewl. getting married. adopting cats. contemplating futures. planning weddings/receptions in dive wicker park bars. life could be worse--(you could find a string in your hoagie).

CATSCATSCATS

this is it, ya'll.

engaygement party is tonite, kiddos. yers truly is really gonna take some grown up shit kinda leap in the near future. . . .tonite's the closest to a wedding many will get til the reception/soiree next spring/summer, city hall's a mere weeks/months away and then that trip to the exotic island. . . see ya'll tonite, maybe the last party as a root woman. werd. (word? weird? both).
werd.
xoxox miss jodirobinroot

holy crap, writer's block times ten, you guys.

the past few days have been a bit of a whirlwind. albeit not by choice, i wound up taking a 3 day hiatus from chicago to travel across the country for a brief business trip to seattle for a little chummy time with our west coast office folk. it's had its ups (fresh fish & coffee) and downs (miss my 3's company like fam back in the basement), but one thing's for sure and that's that i'm tuckered out. (who knew? jet lag can really catch up with you when you're working all day and night).

i get to know these people i work with on a more person to person basis, and as i learn more about them, i uncover these secret normal people tendencies that i would never expect to find out. but then i pause and think, well my dear, what did you expect? not everyone you don't know is a robot. take myself, for example. i get engaged 2 months ago and then i fall off the blogging planet. i don't write music reviews anymore. i don't write rambles anymore. i don't go out boozin' it up like the social butterfly (deranged, wings torn and ready to crawl back into her cocoon) i was. i don't make unwise decisions (for the most part). and i have this stinking suspicion that i'm growing up. oh, shit.

it makes me yearn for my old individuality. not in the sense of independence or anything. but i want those old traits that always made me stand apart and cause people to raise their brows in confusion. a glimmer of that cascaded after a business dinner this evening. after sitting all day in a pristine office on the 42nd floor of the seattle columbia tower (bestfuckingviewever,btw) following a day of sitting for a 5 hour flight followed by 6 hours sitting in another pristine, (but mere 18 floor) office building - my ass was goddang restless. i mean, literally. having to shove it in tight, black legging tights and parade around in a business suit and skirt didn't help the cause, either. sitting in the midst of an overpriced french cuisine dinner (i literally had no idea what i even ordered, it was some sort of sausage but resembled a $25 morning microwavable sausage link one-two atop some shitty ass garbanzo beans - eventually traded in for another doctor's salmon dish after he peaced out early, thankyouverymuch), i realized i could not stop twitching. like, literally. my legs and ass were asleep and itchy. sweat stuckto my thighs and it was the most uncomfortable dry dance ive never requested. concerned some doc may catch a peek at my cat skull and cross bones foot tattoo, i tried to wait out the twitch routine, but eventually gave in to the nerves and excused myself to the restroom.

fast forward 3 hours and several physician medical jargony conversations later, i was long relieved those tights were crumpled in my fake leather thrifstore maroon sorry excuse of a purse. i was free! no itchy ass cheeks or chaffing thighs! on my way out, one doctor wrinkled her nose - 'are those reaaaal tattoos? wait, what is that - i can see a moon and stars, but on your other foot?' as she peered down at my grotesque feet, i stuttered and tried to convince her they were temporary tattoos. when that tactic failed, i rambled that i had an image to portray and that tattoos weren't perceived as professional or 'clean and polished'. this just confused her more. 'clean and polished?' yes. clean and polished. just like me and the stanky ass tights crumpled in my purse.

this makes me kinda sad that my only alter ego superhero personality or double secret life lies within my tattoos. especially days after i made the decision to remove my nosering indefinitely. you know, to like, be a grown up and stuff. so what is my alter ego? where is my channel of unique identity? sure, i've got the radio thing - which is awesome and i love it and blah blah blah, but that's a hobby. what about me? where do i differentiate between the norms and my peers? why is it that everyone has this preconceived notion that they must be special and stand apart - this entitled feeling of invincibility. or whathaveyou.

really, i just want to be appreciated. or loved. or something. by my family. sure, my friends too. but really, i just want my mom and older brother, sister and their children, to look at me as a role model. or a positive influence. an example that you can pave your own way. and still not be a complete geekazoid.

it's scary, really. to know that i'm typing this longwinded ramble (that's going nowhere, btw) on a work issued laptop. nursing a bellyache from a work induced food coma. wishing i was home in bed with my non work partners in crime. cuddling. feeling warm and not worrying for once.

you guys, i'm actually getting married. and i'm actually doing ok at my job. and my friends honestly don't seem to hate me for being too busy to knock back brews with them anymore. is this luck? is this fate? is this just the turn of the tides? i don't know. i do know, however, that the last secret identity, superhero, alias, whatever you wanna call it, would be that of a semi-successful married business woman. i mean, for real?

i guess so. with that, i reckon i will call it a night and turn in.

hope to see you all a week from this coming saturday. it may be one of the last occassions you see me as an unwedded single woman in a large group setting. . . .

all the single ladies.

umm, so this weekend didn't exactly turn out the way i anticipated. what i envisioned my regular lazy boyfriend weekend in edgewater to be started off about right, a bike ride, greasy food from budackis, a quick hangout in the park, and random regularities. and then, post greasy food bloating session, laying down for what i thought would be a quick catnap wound up with a marriage proposal. and of course i said yes, duh. even though as my mom kept saying 'O-M-G, Jodi! You told me time and time again you would NEVER get married. And now look at you. You're like  a real grown up now!' Yup maw, O-M-G, indeed.

http://www.holyshit.com/beinginloveisawesome

yesteryears & other nostalgia.

today was one of those days. the grey, wet ones that most people have a tendency not to care for. i'll admit, i sure as hell wasn't eager to get out of my bed this thundery morning, especially with my napping snuggly partner in crime to my direct left (that's his side). but i did, staggering ten stubborn minutes late to the office or not. and as expected, it was a late one. but even with the the 180 window view on murky, lake michigan, i was more exhilerated than not with the mucky weather.

for whatever reason, i dilly-dallyed around the office longer than i needed to, munching like a peasant on the leftover pasta salad from lunch knowing it'd save me money and efforts in wrangling a dinner at home, and then when i finally shuffled down michigan avenue, feeling like a bloated school marm in my lesbo power suit, i had some sort of deja vu. or not really. maybe i thought i saw a ghost or something. but right by the bus stop by the stupid whatever store on my direct left, i swore i saw the cottony top of my grandmother's somehow still classy and blonde, yet never dyed, white crispy head of hair. and of course i knew it wasn't her, (having her passed on some 15 years ago), but yet, i paused.

realized it's been a long time since i was that jodi robin root. the one with grandparents. and i stopped for a minu-second, wondering what she would think of me now. would she be proud of me? all jaded and never-stop-just-go, shuffling along in the dirty city, bitch face 'dont-you-dare-ask-me-for-money-you-cracked-out-fake-homeless-man' permanently slapped on my freckly face? or would she see me as the weirdo tattooed loudmouth fast talker caffeine junky redhead i've become? or maybe, but i doubt it, i'd still be her stable, but good girl grand daughter. the one who got straight a's and never touched a drop of alcohol and swore to always do good no matter what.

whatever she'd think, it was a mixture of both sadness and bitter joy. or something. lately i've been distracted, apart from myself. finding my way. instead of doing the basics, i've been going on this gut kick to follow my heart (or some similar faggy something or another). i feel as if its finally time for the bitter, headstrong and hurtful j.root to retire and allow the kinder, live and let live, even if you fuck me up, kinda flourish. or something.

i miss being 26. thin and simultaneously selfless and selfish. my only responsibility being my nikes and sneezing cat. praising the goodness that be poster of kanye west. singing to tori amos' 'cornflake girl' at the top of my screechy lungs, and not thinking there was anything weird with hating showers. but even now, while i admit to still holding some of these tendencies (but really, mostly missing my smaller figure), i'm happier now than i've probably ever been in my entire life.

so why am i sitting here, squinting and rambling? well, because i have an album review due, of course. and writer's block for assignments ultimately trump writer's block for rambling seshes.

plus, this gives me an excuse to test out my new laptop and show off my mother's newest 'ohjodi, whydidyoudothat' body accessory.

ps - the handsome furs' new album is kewl and stuff, but i still would rather youtube classics such as this vs. write.

erg. (booty, booty, booty, booty backin' e'rywhere).

gagA.

hey you guys, the new lady gaga came out yesterday. my birthday's thursday. (hint, hint?)

i know, i'm a 15 year old gay boy. i don't care.

heart and soul.

huey lewis & the news are my ultimate happy cheer up oh my gawd life was once so easy anthem makers. like, 'heart & soul?' instant nostalgia. a time machine to 2009. tessa's car. cruising the express highway in the midst of minneapolis/st paul suburbia. hands in the air, hair in the wind through the moonroof. CRANKING huey Lu like tomorrow wasn't coming. screaming at the tops of our lungs. without a worry in the world. . . heart and soul, indeed.

verymuchonthefence to play this jam next week on chirp. let's see if the wind's in my air for the bike ride to north center. . .

re-offender.

ok, so this band makes super shitty music videos. that's no secret. but godDANG, if i'm not on an 'ohmygodimisstravis' kick lately. is it something in the air? am i super wimpy all of a sudden? i dunno. but between this and why does it always rain on me, i'm missing these scottish dudes big time. they's can re-offend me anytime they want. (as long as the whiney singer one isnt wearing another goddamn faux hawk like in his other vid). faux hawks are sick.

i have tiny eyes, you guys.

but god dang, if gettin' new glasses ain't the best. tiny eyes or not, i like looking like a geek.

summah, summah, summurr tyieeem

dudez, it's here. even though it's a 3 day work week for yers truly, that doesn't necessarily lessen the intensity or long hours playing corporate grownzup. but last night i made the best decision in forever when i drug my workerbees and sexted a few galpals to meet me at milennium park for what was the first rendition of downtown sounds.

yeah, sure, bonnie prince billy was kewl or whathaveyou. but really, drinking brews from walgreens, talking smack to little boys blowing  bubbles, watching some warlord play with his 'davidbowieball' (ashleymeekeristhebest), and squirm around in corporate wear while proudly letting my tattoos hang out was really what it was all about. beautiful evening. warm wine/budweiser buzz. relief of an extended upcoming weekend (with zero plans!).

tomorrow marks the end of the work week for me, and then 5 days of nada await. gonna pretend im unemployed again, and ride my birthday bike, like, everywhere. go grab some longoverdue drinks with whoever the hell is out and about, thinkin' rainbo with lisalisa on thurs where i'll proceed to request nonstop 50 cent bday shout outs and then my cookout/beachwood soiree on saturday. will just crawl around my apartment like one of those creepy cave dweller mole creatures before/after. eat cheetos and kiss molly. this is what i want for my birthday. (well, i mean other than introducing the beau to the maternal unit and hammering NUMEROUS shots of cuervo in a hottub, how the hell can you up that?)

but yeah.back to the music i was rambling about or whatever. this summer is going to kick ass. i just know it. work is shmerk, but at least i can afford to have some fun and i got a great dude to rock it with. i don't think there's a show on memorial day monday, but i know there's one the monday after. 6:30 every week, a whopping 2 blocks down michigan ave from my office. iron and wine, ted leo & pharmacists, a whole slew of other indie bands i kinda wanna see but not really as much as i wanna drink outside and roll around in the dirty grass and swear at toddlers.

god damn, summer in chicago is grand. here's to hoping i ain't too old for it.

i'm old.

it's officially may again. aka, christmas for the rootabega clan. my nephew just turned 13! (holycrap marbs is going thru puberty im dying). my mom, 60. sister, somewhere in her 40s. mothers day. and then, yers truly ages in 2 weeks or some shit. dang, 28 sounds old. i just wish i had balloons and kool-aid mustaches again, really. this getting old thang sucks without the help of cupcakes at school and mr. montgomery's 4th grade phys. ed 'spanking machine.'

i gotta admit, im long overdue for some family time. stress always gets thebest/worst/everything/of/me, so when i'm exhausted/overexerted, sometimes i just need to hide with my criminally insane pack of genes and pretend to hate every second of it. lately, im exhausted to the nines, and if it werent for my supersweet-but-spills-wine-on-me-in-my-sleep-and-pretends-to-wipe-it-off-me-and-says-nothing-until-i-confess-i-have-a-purple-'funguy'-rash-boyfriend, i'd be a mess times a million.

such is life.

got a couple big weekends ahead of me. time to lay low, relaxxx to the maxxx. have some brews, good food, good company, and hopefully turn off the smartphone and ignore the fact that my job consumes 95% of my existence.

one of these weekends is the celebration? (nah, more like, stubborn stance of declaration) of my birth. or something. but instead of getting krunk as hell before 60% of my guests show up and then one yanks my iPod party, ima grill out on that deck of mine and move that shit over to beachwood. memorial day wknd. shit will be bananas, ya'll. but really, i don't give two cahoots over my birthday. instead, i'm just stoked as all fucking hell to see A) my family and B) my friends and C) have 5 days without having to go to michigan avenue in a pencil skirt and heels with a fake ms. jodi root smile plastered on my face.

the one perk to bdays? early birthday presents. what can i say? i've got the best dude, ever.

musick.

omg you guys, i think i found a contender in my top 2011 releases. two super righteous female acoustic musicians ganged up together and dropped a long awaited debut album on kill rockstars, the one and only thao & mirah. dry, yet fluid, the combination of thao & mirah's soft, yet effective vocal work is undeniably a success. bursts of riot-inducing percussion, more clapping than you'd find at a pep rally in high school musical, keys, synth, girly goodness, it's all there.

this album is the fucking shit. opening up with 'eleven,' listeners are gripped instantaneously. this ain't yer every day girly album. although i'd be lying if it didn't make me want to jump around on my bed, swing molly around by her lil kitty paws and frolick in a field of lilies.

it's been a while since i've had even five minutes to listen to music outside of the radio station, so when i accidently make a discovery like this, it fuels me back to my roots and gets me to where i gotta be. while i'm trapped in my cubicle like a corporate wench, at least i now am supplied with an appropriate soundtrack.

additional 2011 albums that may make the cut released to date? interesting. . . how about?

sims - bad time zoo
lykke li - wounded rhymes
pj harvey - let england shake
panda bear - tomboy
(thao & mirah - self/titled)

maybe?
the go! team - rolling blackouts
shabazz palaces - black up
tyler, the creator - goblin

not making the cut (dang). . .
atmosphere - the family sign
tv on the radio - nine types of light

mission accomplished.

so, i like, kinda sorta radio dj sometimes, right? no big deal. only like, my creative passion or whatever. sometimes, the initial thrill of it all gets lost in the shuffle with the corporate 9-5 madness (or more like, 8-forever if we're counting the daily hours these days, who-em-i jokin'?) but tonite was one of those shifts where i get a real rise out of it.

forcing myself to prep more and get my rambly sweet self a bit more together, i like to think the past few weeks have been more cohesive and whatnot, but tonite i had a random listener live gchatting away with me for a good duration of my show. i, assumed it was my peer co-dj who is assigned for a show critique and will give me tips and 'jodi-don'ts', so willingly and enthusiastically engaged in miscellaneous music chit chat for a better part of an hour. it was only when 15 mins left of shift, i asked my mystery friend if he knew we had something in the library to which he responded 'how would i know?'

umm, woops. well, regardless, i gained a fan tonight. but more importantly than that, i turned the mystery fan into a fan of that dog. a group which, probably released the most underrated classic album of all time. their 1997 release, retreat from the sun, is a collection of pop hook goodness. sugary sweet female vox with solid upbeat keys, guitar, violins, whatever. it's the best ever. and they now have one more fan 14 years after the fact.

i consider that pretty much, mission accomplished.

oh, and i snuck some 'ye in the shuffle. so that's umm, pretty much always a win in my book.

school spirit, motha fuckaaaa.

setlists and molly hurr: http://chirpradio.org/schedule/94325/jodi-root

tomBOY.

noah lennox's latest effort, tomboy, is a very likely contender (def top runner as of now) for my top ten of 11 list. a bit more cohesive than yer standard AC, this record embraces all the abstractyfunpop goodness that is found in animal collective releases, but is still off kilter just enough to leave listeners feeling a bit dizzy, like punched in the gut by some love demon or coming off some ferocuious hallucinogenic high. the production is right on, and ditties like the title track, 'last night at the jetty' and the 2nd to last jam are just unmistakenably memorable and amazing. perfect dish washing, make-out or bbq soundtrack, this album is def destined for much radio airplay this spring for yers truly. sofuckinggood.com

i wish i could still write like this.

since i've been too busy/tired/awesome to actually write write, (thank you CAREERJOB/RADIO/BOYFRIEND), i think i'll just post jodi classix. now that i got my story journal and my folder of witchboard suicide graphic tales from junior high, ya'll prob won't miss half the garbage coming outta me anyway.

behold my first entry, dated September 4th (friday), 1992. this woulda made me 9 years old. dang, i was smooth. droppin' aesop's fables like nothin', son.

"The Bear With Golden Hair"

Long ago there was a bear

With ice-blue eyes

And golden hair

And pale-pink paws, A bright

black nose, And a shiny, silken

ribbon More red than rose.

But though he was a perfect bear,

he had one secret, deep despair:

he did not have a thing to wear

Except a lot of golden hair.

"I Wish," He'd sigh, "I had a pair Of

socks or shoes In reds and blues.

Some pale plaid pants I'd also choose."

For hours he would sit and muse

On splendid clothes That he would wear

Were he not such a fair-haired bear.

One Wednesday Also long ago,

This gold-haired bear Went

to and fro To see the spring

And sniff the bud, When

Amelia Ellen Whitely

Who was holding him quite tightly,

Tripped a little more than slightly

And he fell into the mud.

Amelia Ellen had to stare

There lay her once-so-golden bear

Now muddied up from here to there.

Now muddied up from there to here,

From toe to toe To ear to ear

To heel to heel To knee to nose;

His ribbon hanging limply down,

A wet and brackish Blackish brown

a lot more mud than rose.

She took him home and ran the tub--

And started in to soap and scrub,

To comb and brush, To rinse and rub.

From dusk she worked Into the dawn,

And as the sunlight lit the lawn

No mud was there upon her bear.

But, oh, Amelia had to stare, His hair was

also gone. then, her needle threaded tightly

Amelia Ellen Whitely Sticked with

energy and care Daily, noon, and

nightly. She made bear pairs of socks

and shoes. In rosey reds and azure blues,

Jackets, Gloves, and pale-plaid pants

At which each passerby would glance,

Exclaiming with approving "oh's."

"I say, my dear, Do give a stare

At yonder very-well-dressed bear.

If I but had such splendid clothes."

Long ago There was a bear Without a

single golden hair. He also did not have

a care. Oh, happy hair-free

carefree bear.

jodi robin root : the weirdo.

st8 outta my 4th grade story journal. my teachers hadtouv thought i was hella kewl.

in case you can't decipher my A+ penmanship, a transcription of pure poetry:

"My Favorite Place"

My favorite place is in my closet. It is a very big closet. I have some stuff in there. My cat likes it as  much as I do. She used to eat and drink and go pody in there. I like it very much.

I think it is very nice. It has very beautiful wallpaper. It has all of my games and instruments.It is the biggest and prettiest closet I have ever had. It is very peaceful. It is very pretty.

yeah i came to party, but i dont wanna party witchyoo.

what has happened to jodi robin root the first?
does she still live for discovering new jams?
sweet beats? ramble about lame nobody cares about trend buzz bands?

sorta, kinda. this week at least.

e'rybody knows i heart me some mad slug action. and dang, was i super hella righteously stoked for the family sign. ever since i caught word that sluggo was droppin' a new full length, his follow up to 09's 'when life gives you lemons, you paint that shit gold,' and 'blood makes the blade holy, to all my friends' dual ep effort, i was like WHOA. the first single 'just for show' was bangin' on the nose. total ex-lover 'you dont really want, you dont really want me to goooooo'. that shit was on repeat.

but then that second single, 'she's enough?' sigh. cmon man, you can do better. and then i heard that camping song. and then the over synth dub. and then. . . aw man, where the heck is my lucy ford, god loves ugly, reflections, modern man hustle? well, it ain't on this record. but you know what? just like lemon's, this shit eventually grew on me. there are some pretty tight joints on here.

i wrote a ramble for chirp. a review of sorts (which got chopped down cuz i sorta geeked out a lil.) if you weren't a fan of atmosphere before the family sign, you def won't be after the family sign. but if you were hardcore gangstaaaa like me before, i wouldn't give up just yet. mr. sean daley always has a welcome spot on my iPod, fleckled in bird poop residue or not.

Atmosphere/The Family Sign/Rhymesayers/2011


The last couple Atmosphere records took more than a handful of listens before I was able to fully appreciate the newer direction Slug, aka Sean Daley, aka ½ of the Minnesotan indie hip hop duo Atmosphere, has taken his and Ant’s latest dark grown up style--(And this is coming from Super Atmosphere Mega Fan 10000, for realizes Google image “slug atmosphere” and you’ll see me geeking outs aside him SXSW ‘08 on page 6). Long gone are the days of over honest grit rhymes of slitting throats, bitter tales of self-deprecating love gone awry, groupie invitations and Midwestern binging.

While 2008’s When Life Gives You Lemons took a more story telling turn, The Family Sign continues on a fictional spiel of adulthood, but regardless of slick production and Slug’s conversational speak rap delivery, some of the tracks may leave listeners scratching their heads. The production has never been better, yet numbers like “Became,” (Camping? Wolves? Really Slug? I get this is a metaphor and stuff, but dang . . . gimme Lucy Ford back), and “Bad Bad Daddy” (almost killed the record) are straight up cringe worthy if you pay a millisecond to the lyrical content. Those bummers aside, The Family Sign remains a pretty solid effort. From the opening dreamy guitar/bass strums of album beginner “My Key,” to the synth heavy beds of “Ain’t Nobody, “its apparent fans are taken on a different kinda ride than past Atmosphere efforts. The real treats are hidden amongst the album, including the slow-down gem “Who I’ll Never Be” and the western accordion infused “Ain’t Nobody.” Album closer “My Notes” is a brief (1:39) flirtation to what the album’s got to offer if you want just a taste; while singles “Just for Show” and “She’s Enough” are exactly the banger beats you’d expect outta Daley.

Recommended: 4, 8, 10, 5, 13, 14, 1

said you were an ugly girl, but i like the way you play.

ughldahliejlg,. i like tori amos. and the early 90's. and angsty ferocious estrogen infused fuck you piano rock. this song makes me want to give myself a facial (just did), run really really fast (noway, it's snowy outside and i just inhaled 3 slices of hella greasy meat lovers' pizza) and give everyone in argyle the middle finger.

instead, i'll just ramble and post some dumb youtube vids and yell insissently at a snottynosed molly.

the metamorphosis.

ok. so i'm not exactly a bug or frog or something. but goddang, if i don't feel like i've been through several physical/mental/emotional/whoa-yer-a-different-jode-a-ma-toad-something stages.

i had 2 schlitz's (in a mug). a double cheeseburger (courtesy a co-worker). and one extremely delicious $10 maker's manhattan (my newest vice, but really only at the swanky-slash-shitty-basement-bar in the nbc tower after work).

so i guess, sure, i've had a couple beverages or whatever. but dang. walking home, or at least to my public transit to the blue line, i had this crapshoot of an epiphany. i was just strollin', enjoying the spring weather, early/late sunlight, breaking into sunset. 7:15 pm, strolling pseudo-drunkenly past the beggars, walking under trainlines. saw the skyscrapers. the river. the skyline. the, (sigh), downtown chicago cityscape. and naturally, i was listeining to the most random selection on my ipod, and was just digging my grubby lil' unpainted claws into no doubt's '93 release 'tragic kingdom.'

wasn't sure if it was, 'whoa-my-god, i'm not 13 anymore, i think i got my revenge finally' epiphany from the angsty days of 'oh-just-you-wait-argyle, ima bigger and better girl than all ya'll cowdudes', or if it was 'awww man, i miss the days of denying a not-really-but-kinda-i-have-an-8th-grade-crush-on-ryan-wilson (even with his big ears) kinda thing. who cares. i all of a sudden realized 2 things: 1) i'm an adult. like, totally and unescapedly, ima fuckin' adult. i have not just a job, but a grown-up career job. (as i stumbled in my $90 express slacks and non-dry cleaned wrinkly suit jacket). and 2) im not in wisconsin, anymore.

finally gone. and separated. from my (jodi) roots. from my childhood. early adulthood. youth. whatever.

i'm in this purgartory of sorts. but shit ain't all that bad.

still, something about gwen stefani's nasally mall-pop girly vocals (and the sad but still guilty pleasure fact that i knew all the 'super deep men suck' lyrics) just hit me hard.

while i tried to fake stroll in my cheap pay less 'walking' shoes, (because let's face it, while i can rock them 4 incher heels in the office, homegirl cant quite exactly strut down michigan ave at a clipping pace down that subway tunnel), i missed them old days. the days before boys. the days when no doubt and garbage OWNED my cd walkman. when dark blue lipstick from deliah's mail order catalog and long skin tight ankle dress skirts (withOUT bras) was totally in. (or at least according to the wormy unibrowed vision of 14 year old miss jodirobinroot). white mascara. booty shorts. yellow hypercolor platform shoes. doc marten boots. snowboarding. pining after boys from neighboring rural villages. purple/pink lava lamps. feather boas. vinyl vests and pink pleather pants. spencer's fucking gifts.

14 was so fucking cool. and 15? goddamn, i had the courage to chop off all the locks and rock the butch lezzy cut hot. and i didn't fucking care one bit. now? i dream of a cute pixie do. but the best i can do is take misleading facebook profile pics and try to fake out my pals. i mean, fer real? what happened to ballsy jodester. i used to legitimately  not give a fuck. sure, i was clueless. but shit was real.

so yeah, i got down to some spiderwebs. im just a fucking girl, dawg. did i silently sing all the words to 'happy now?' spitefully in my head to every ex-makeout/bf/not-really-love-interest in my head on the cta? hell yes i did. walk into my apartment, peeing full stream and glaring at my pay less kicks, i totally drunkenly let loose to some tone def shout singing of 'don't speak,' much to miss molly's dismay. sunday morning? kel-nik, can't miss you damn homegirls enough. r.i.p. east wash and jt's friendly fucking tavern. (not to mention, jodi discovering her womanly curves at much too late of an age, awkwardly sucked into a skintight gadzooks' floral tan mini dress that belonged to one miss kelly blanke while coffeetabletop jukin' to some kanye's workout plan).

the dells. river falls. argyle/oakley. minnesota. argyle, mother fuckin' wisconsin. i love my girlfriends. i loved me. being all awkward and cute as fuck. without having the slightest clue.

so here i am, 8:30 pm. sitting in my bright ass rainbow afghan, cat calmly chillin' at my feet. too apathetic for productivity, (although i feel like finally i'm an official chirpette! 7 months in and i'm on-air, a member of the music & promotions dept, and have a realzies chirp email address). loving that i'm living my dream. community radio. cat lady. city girl. and i guess, a 'corporate animal,' (at least according to one of my physician colleagues, that is).

oh, and i happen to be dating the man of my dreams - is that a bonus too?

now, if only no doubt wasn't lame and the blue lipstick/white mascara/short-boy-haircut/no bra look would make a comeback. . . .

dang.

it's happening again.

it's the next chapter. the circle is folding. people are departing chicago. but this time, i'm staying put. i am losing my grip it took so long to attain. but i have bigger things, now. better stability. good job. good apartment, roommate. boyfriend. feeling of belonging. but still,  i will never forget my friends. the key ingredients that helped me re-find myself that summer of 2009. i love you more than you will ever realize. thank you for helping me be me. angel pelipada, i'm going to fucking goddamn miss you more than you will ever now. goddang silly half intoxicated non-stop tears and bff who make steak dinners and call me out. why does all that is good end. sad face.

infatuation intoxication (translation: writer's block).

it's 10:39 pm on my sunday, real time monday. all i want to do is write. or sleep. or distract my mind away from sunny beaches and crashing oceanic waves. but alas, i have this wonderful obstacle known as writer's block. i need an assignment. a nagging 'do this' something or another to pressure me into pummeling out a masterpiece. i've been wracking my brain for some sort of inspiration or real life tale to transcribe into my first masterpiece, but i don't think the things i've been circuiting with for the past few months would amount to anything more than two word mentally disabled nonsensical outbursts. 'CATMAGNET'. or maybe, 'CLOWNSHOW.' fuck, i can't think.

this year's been surreal. pretty awesome, though. but still, i sometimes catch myself waiting. things can't always continue to progress better and better, can they? is there going to be a secret catch? there usually 9 times out of 10 is one. and when i finally catch onto the snag, i realize that hook is going to cut a lot deeper than i ever would have imagined when i first tossed the lure. but instead of overworrying and being catlike cautious, i'm trying something new. i'm going with my gut, head and heart. (this typically works better than going solely with my vagina).

so far, so good.

i have a careeresque job. i live in a convenient and nice neighborhood with a decent apartment and roommate. my cat continously advances in her daily affections with me, today we crossed the line from hugs and kisses to her feebly, yet insisently making strides towards biting or batting my nipples. i'm in a pretty incredible relationship. just got back from a trip to mexico. saw, splashed and loved the salty, light waves in person for the first time in my 27 years. excessively indulged in never ending buffets and mexican beer and fruity cocktails. copped a tan. got sand in my ass. copped a bloody, fatlip. rode in a taxicab backwards down the world's steepest cliff mountain road. ordered a meal in spanish at a chili's in the guadalahara airport. una mesa para dos personas por favor?

my break was a good one. but still, the break after the break back in my own bed in my own apartment in my own city was the best part. relaxing, sleeping, snacking, and laughing. is romance the ultimate cockblocker for productive writing? it seems to be a double edged sword - love and romance. when you are swept up in its seductive whirlwind, your head is full of x's and o's, fantasies of last name swapping, rainbows and candy colored hearts - ultimately preventing any sort of rationality, let alone energies to dedicate to actually putting sentence A behind sentence B in a constructive manner.but then, after it all crumbles or comes to its ultimate demise, the sorrows and brokenness, the jadedness, the hurt and poison, it floods more quickly onto the scroll than the ink from the quill. so what happens when you find yourself dealing with tidbits of column A and column B? humility from your own naivety of former self destruction and the sense of being robbed. but then, a heavy, pounding, unavoidable intoxication from cupid's sweetest bow? i guess you are kept in check, kinda. but you still can't write for a damn.

growing up is hard. adults really need to take more vacations. longer vacations.

i'm starting to get sleepy. i am dreading returning to the madness of my office tomorrow morning, especially since i managed to lock myself out of my remote email account so i wasn't able to even take a sneak peek at the turmoils that await my return.

i realize it's been a while since i've mentioned anything of music as of late. tomorrow, (if i'm not dead as a doornail), i plan on checking out fujiya & miyagi at the mid. their newest album, ventriloquizzing, was hardly mind blowing (at least compared to their sophomore effort), but i've got a stack of free tickets and a handful of lovely ladies interested in being my date(s), so i'm gonna do my best to make it happen. doubt i'll have the energy for a review, but SIMS is playing schuba's on 3/27, and if he brings even an iota of a fraction of what he brought at the fine line in mpls last month, shit will be dope as hell. then, tv on the radio will be at metro in april, and i just received three 3-day passes for pitchfork. who's to be my date is to be determined at this point (until a certain someone requests off from work, that is). but i must admit, reading all of the blogs and twitter feeds re: sxsw this past week made a small pocket in my gut weep. i missed a kanye/jay-z collaboration. doomtree was there. the strokes. but whatever, even after my OD of pina coladas and warm bottles of dos equis, i would never trade the 4 days i had on the beach with my boo for any orgy of over hyped chillwave buzz acts and tangles of american apparel accessories. (although the shiner bocks would have slid down my throat a tinnnny bit easier).

rambleocity.com.

that's where i'm at. hopefully this week won't be too brutal. in addition to my new responsibilities with CHIRP in the promotions department, ima try to collect some organized thoughts into constructing some readable words for this here lil blog.

til then, ima drool all over this cathairy pillow and dream of Chewy, el triste hombre de puerto vallarta and his poor lost hermano.

mylifeisarunonsentence. (or a prolonged indian chant).

funny how long it can take for things to progress. seemingly stewing in a relentless rutting slump. when in reality, things are transitioning behind the scenes more quickly than you could ever begin to fathom. chapters progressing. pages flipping. next thing you know, it's years later. acquaintences forgotten. next steps and stories only half written, crumpled in a ball, stuck between the sticky dirty bedroom wall and plastic garbage can.

today i thought about friends forgotten. realized some good quality people in my life are no longer in it. i remembered one of my best girlfriends in college, who now has two children that i have never even met. i couldn't even tell you their names or how old they are. i thought of friends i spent the past two summers with, who have all gone one way or another, traveling or relationships or just outgrown chicago, the city i've grown to know and love. on the dreary rainy friday this week past, i rode the brown line to irving park from downtown. remembering my 4 year former daily commute, and how i had memorized each stop. the nostalgic feeling of routine. standing against the filthy metallic pole, gripping more tightly than i need to, (as per my usual uptight self), it hit me that it has been ten years since highschool graduation. five since college.

where had everyone gone? my distant twisted family? forgotten childhood neverquite friends and classmates? batting my sleepy eyelashes and keeping my angry 'im-on-public-transportation-perma-bitch-scowl-dont-bug-me-you-creepy-homeless-man-frown', it suddenly hit me that i wasn't really sure where i went either. what happened to me. when did i ever decide what to be when i grew up? am i grown up? it's been ten years. i'm sure as hell not in argyle anymore. yet, here i am. living life day by day, growing past each obstacle and hurdle, making the most out of what i can.

not doing such a bad job, either. but still. who the hell woulda ever thought id be who i grew up to be. or live where i now live, with who i live with. be friends the people i've met. i have no regrets. although i'd be lying if i said i wouldn't do things differently on an impulse. if i had the option and put thought into it, i dont think i'd make (m)any changes, but if it was on impulse, i know i would. i can be a bit of a hostile firecracker at times. especially if you fuck with my shit. i'm a lioness and shit. leave my cubs the fuck alone. but as much sense as i don't make right now, i have this gut feeling shit is working out the way its supposed to.

i was watching my so called life tonight. and the concluding scene was the episode where angela ditches on her mom's mother/daughter fashion show so her little sister can have the chance to work the runway. the song they play at the uplifting heartwarming life lesson narration is none other than enigma's 'return to innocence.' this pure moods shit took me back to fifth grade. when i shamelessly rocked the ugly big glasses/wet tangly curly mullet look. and sang indian chants in my bedroom. and the lion king was by far, my favorite movie.

this made me proud that i now am the person i was then. and still am. i may no longer croak indian chants in my bedroom and would never willingly grow another mullet, but was i just crooning whitney houston's 'i will always love you' in my bathroom while flossing my teeth sporting a wicked foul high pony? yes. have i listened to the bodyguard soundtrack in the last 13 years? no. am i a weirdo? thank goodness, i reckon so.

so this prolonged tangent ramble about absolutely nothing is this and this only. i miss yesterday. and the day before that. but i think more than that, i just am having a hard time waiting for tomorrow. because goddamn it, i'm ready for that next novel to fucking take hold and remove itself from that wilting shoebox that rotted underneath my childhood bed.

.(to next chapters and new beginnings).

david lynch is my lifeline.

the other nite when i was at chirp getting ready for my marathon friday shift last week, the dude before me was rocking some surfer blood, track 'twin peaks.' i have the surfer blood album and was always kinda on the 'eh, they're pretty decent but nothing mindblowing' sorta fence with these hyped dudes, but for obvious reasons, was always much more apt to play this particular number vs any other. (completely 150% based on title track alone). and while i didn't rock any surfer blood myself that set, i did drift toward's beach house's 'silver soul,' in which the enchanting miss victoria legrand ghostly croons, 'it's happening again, oh-oh-ohh, it is happening aga-ah-eh-ah-eh-a-ennnnnnn,' taking me back to my most beloved gentle giant in the black lodge.

it was a sign. a sign that as each chapter evolves in my life, i need to turn to my homeboy david lynch. he first was my depressing solace from a pretty major break-up. then, he was my first professional job distraction pride and joy distraction. then, suddenly twin peaks turned into the soundtrack/back-up of my 'imboredandneedsomethingtotalkabout' existence.

but no matter what, i can't tire. no memories of tp cohorts or situations can spoil my love for special agent cooper or his lameass witicisms. i will never forget my head scratching flabbergast of the moment josie turned into a drawer doorknob. or the fucking jaw dropping amazement of the show finale as coop turns to the dark side of bob and all that is evil of the black lodge. i can shrug off the ridiculousness of nadine and her roided out sick excuse of a plot twist high school love affair. even norma's dumb husband and leo coke trafficing whateverness. but leland palmer's geek out? the man from another place's ritual boogy moves? that creepy fucking dumb opening sequence number of synthed out chimework? omg, i need you back in my life pleez.

if only to visit me. i found this on my own. i loved this on my own. i pushed it onto others, and regardless of their love/disdain, twin peaks still belongs to me. and mr. lynch, i see absolutely zero reason why a happy girl can't get sucked back into your finicky fables.

josie, i'm sorry you got twisted into wood homegirl, but my ladylove margaret is calling me back. time for some fucking tar gum, bitches.

reason 5,999 why the go! team is the best ever.

my gay former step dad (the monster).

my mom called me the other day. 'so it's official,' she sighed, taking a drag on her cigarette.

'what's official?' confused, my mom has a tendency to lean towards drama.

'him. he's got a boyfriend now. it's all over facebook.'

my mom, trying to be strong and remain cool, unaffected. here's a woman pushing 60 who doesn't even know how to leave a voicemail message on her answering machine, let alone use a computer or navigate a facebook page. and despite the difficult past year and a half that she has led, she's still standing on her own two feet. single for the first time in 21 years. completely independent and not having anyone else relying on her for the first time in 42 years - no children or partner needing her financial and emotional support to get by day to day. no pets.

both my brother and i grew up without fathers. neither of us have ever met our biological fathers, and neither of us ever considered any of my mother's suitors a worthy replacement enough to refer to some man as 'dad.' i guess i had a closer excuse to that of a father figure than my older brother did, mom having been with this particular man for 21 years. age 7 to adulthood. but that monster was never my dad. i guess in college it got easier describing him as my 'step-dad' to people who didn't know him personally vs. 'my mom's fuckhead asshole live-in boyfriend.'

i never liked him. maybe it was the time he chucked a bag of m&m's at my leg, splitting the candied pieces and bruising my thigh and calling me an 'impatient fucking little bitch' when i was 7 and asked for a snack.

maybe it was how he encouraged my mom to have 'just one more' drink. or maybe it was how he called me a 'worthless fucking cunt bitch' on my 16th birthday after i failed my driver's exam. it could have been the time he threw me down on the floor and chased me with a chair, threatening to slam it in my face when i neglected to take my laundry upstairs in a timely fashion. oh, or the thanksgiving i surprised my mom with a visit from college and he locked me outside in the below zero temperature without a jacket. that was a good time. or the time i came home seeking comfort after an instance of sexual abuse and he told me to 'quit being such a selfish cunt' because i was upset that he and my mom went out bingedrinking instead of my mom spending the day with me.

he had a temper problem. always so angry. so fucking out of control. he would break things. slam cabinets until they fell off their hinges. shatter glass windows. scream and scream and scream. yell so hard he would foam at the mouth and spit in your space. break everything. i finally hardened up around high school and would never sleep without a secret knife tucked under my mattress in my bedroom. i dont' know if my mom ever knew about that. but i had to watch my back. and phones. i would never leave my room int he midst of one of his fits unless i had a cordless phone with me, with the '9' and the '1' entered, thumbing the second '1'.

he tried so hard to get me to call him dad. my mom would try to guilt me into sending him fathers day cards, which i never did. even at age 7/8, i was so puzzled by my mom. why did she choose him? why, when he would say these incredibly offensive slurs to me, would she stand beside him? wasn't i her baby? wasn't i good enough for her love? how could she be with someone who called her little girl a cunt?

i'll never know the answer to these questions. but being an adult now, and having found myself in some less than ideal relationships, i guess i can empathize with how love can make you blind. maybe. but still.

that never changed my love for my mother. despite her poor taste in men, she was still all i had. i was lucky enough to have one incredible older brother who would step in when necessary and play the parental role. buy me christmas/birthday presents. tell me he loved me. congratulate me on good report cards and cheer me on at my track meets, school plays. when mom would be drunk/passed out. when her partner would encourage her alcohol/drug abuse.

the fucker crossed the line. anyone who knows me personally knows the jist of what went down. asshole had a temper tantrum at his work. lost his job. mooched off my mothers' $12/hour temp work salary. maxxed out credit cards to pay the mortgage. lost their house. started hanging with some young boys. got beat up (multiple times). got arrested for drug possession. beat up the young boys. got arrested again. beat my mother up. got arrested again. turned her world upside down. got arrested again.

she's been on her own without him in her new house since december, while they've been split up really for over a year.

apparently he got a facebook page. you can look him up, brent duckwitz, a real winner. with his meth face and yellow teeth. he's in a domestic partnership. and is interested in men.

so i guess my former-abusive-step-dad-but-not-really is gay. my mother's ultimate humiliation. he's slurring her name all over facebook. referring to her as a drunk and 'crusty.' if i ever see this man in person ever again, EVER. i don't think i'll be able to hold back my claws. that knife that was stashed under my mattress however many years ago, he's somehow managed to get his hands on and delve into my mother's pride and being. it makes sense, i suppose, where all of his unnecessary anger was stemming from. from this denial to admit who he really was his entire life. he was married for years before my mother too.

i hate him. so much. my mom is better off now. she might be lonely for a while. and embarassed. and sad. but at least now she is safe. and her eyes have opened up. but i have to say, when she started choking her sobs and muffled over the phone, 'jodi you were right all along, i should have listened to you from day one. . .' it wasn't the 'i told you so' gratification i had so yearned for in high school.

fucking facebook. fucking assholes. fucking life. just let my mom be.

i can't remain angry forever. but still. god. damn.

it's not going to stop. until you wise up.

tonight i stood in the rain for what felt like an eternity. but it wasn't. in actuality, it was probably more like 28 minutes. the bus tracker currently stuck on '2 minutes' or 'arriving now,' whereas it must have been the ghostbus from ghost world because that shit never came. i was in a really strange mood. not gloomy. not sad. in fact, if anything, i've been on a really great path lately. seeing things for what they are. phases in my life leading in more appropriate directions. more positivity. sans manipulating mind games. you know. wake up call. and it turns out it's pretty nice to be awake.

but seeing the rain. it wasn't cold. it wasn't warm. it was steady, quiet, and real. the white flashes of sky lightning, without any jagged bolts. just flashes of white, illuminating the dark sky. the wetness reflecting the christmas hues of red and green from the stoplights onto the surface of slick ashland avenue. the desolate streets without their typical traffic. the wetness in the air. my glasses smeared, and foggy from the rain. still i stood alone in the bus stop, waiting, patiently for once if you can believe it, for the forever delayed number nine.

after my recent download music kick, you'd think i'd be in paradise with my ipod. pop in some old animal collective, some gritass tyler the creator, pepped up go! team or fuck, even that new guilty pleasure lady gaga single. but nah. instead my thoughts turned to the apathy and numb void of yesterday and i hypnotially rolled that wheel up to my a's where i landed on aimee mann. the magnolia soundtrack. this film. this soundtrack. so fucking heavy. yet, these songs of hers strike and affect me unlike any other female songbird. i never really had any personal memories or instances that these would allude to, nor do they remind me of anything in particular. but recently, on that goddamn busride through the snowtacular of northern wisconsi last weekend, i had some time for massive overdue personal reflection. these songs played on shuffle.

wise up. it's a message. to all of those in need of a new personal path. i guess this was me, a month or so back. stuck on this circular path of self destruction, intentional or not. knowing i needed to 'wise up' and face the music. the future. and step into a new pattern. which i did. and now in retrospect, i realize it wasn't just me who needed this education, this straightening up. it's so fucking cliche and lame, i know this. but come on. it's not going to stop until you fucking grow up. and if you don't take chances, you're doomed to lead a very miserable existence. after about 7 consecutive listens to this track, i yearned for yesteryear. the days of argyle, wisconsin. where it would rain and rain and rain and rain. and i would sit on that damned stoop on 503 north state street. and maniacally run into the bare streets and scream. throw my body down the hill into the park across the way. get sopping wet. dirty. and just lose myself.

i really wanted to run into the streets of chicago tonight. not to get hit or anything, there were barely any cars present. but just to lose that grasp of reality, the struggle of balancing pain and pleasure. of knowing what's right and wrong. of having to feel. i just wanted that release. and to just escape the world. even for five seconds. but the flash of lightning brought me back. and the song eventually changed onto 'save me' which then brought me to the present day. of how i am where i am now - emotionally, professionally, physically. i'm in a very good place. it's not always simple every step of the way, but for the first time in my adult existence, i feel confident and assured that things are as they should be. i smile more than not. i'm comfortable. i look forward to tomorrow. even when stress is running rampant, i know that everything is going to work out. i've found my strength. that slap in the face that i neeed for so long finally came, and now my eyes are wide open.

i have finally allowed myself the privilege of happiness. but i still sit here in my bed, curled up with my cat in my feet, holey flannel cocooning my body, wishing that things hadn't evolved in the ways they have. people have been hurt in my life recently and i almost feel guilty or ashamed that i'm doing so well. my mother has called me a few times in the recent days and i wish there was something i could do for her. my friends have undergone some shitty personal times and i feel bad that work makes me so exhausted that i'm unavailable for friend/shoulder to cry on movie nights. i feel bad for things out of my grasp and control. is this the control freak in me? perhaps. i would be lying if i said there wasn't a tiny part of me that wasn't still angry. angry with the world. with individuals. with circumstances out of my reach. angry that i'm angry. but as each day passes, i begin tofeel a stronger wave of calm. i'm ok with things. i'm allowing myself this rite of happiness. taking the path that feels right.

in 2.5 weeks i'm going on vacation with someone that makes me fucking happy. typically i wouldn't splurge on last minute impulsive trips to mexico, but what the hell. after the year i've had, i fucking deserve it. i think it's karma, or something. i was blinded for so long, that i finally wised up. took care of myself. got my life back to pieces. and now it's time for me to reap the rewards.

i guess, what i'm getting at is that it's not too late. after my own personal do-over, i realized there's still opportunities. for second chances and new beginnings. just know, it won't stop. until you make a change.

which is precisely why i did not run into the rainy streets this evening. but instead, bit my tongue, and eventually changed my iPod to the new radiohead album instead.

dizzy spells of musical infatuation.

animal collective pretty much blew my mind 2 years ago. merriweather post pavillion nabbed my top pick of 09 records, and i'll admit i never really paid much attention to back homework for past releases. nor did i focus on solo albums. but the minute i popped in panda bear's latest single off his upcoming release 'tomboy' at chirp last friday, i've been screwed. noah lennox's swimmy, disoriented ambient dizziness is a spell i can't shake. 'last night at the jetty' is one of several hot jams with the jodester right now. even though the girl with green hair who lives above me is having some rough sounding sex right now, i don't care. not even slightly annoyed. because this ditty is on and it makes me want to swim in the dirty rain heavy streets of chicago. just chill. cannot wait for this record. if you wanna stream it, its at p4k. if you wanna trust my indiesnob judgement, i've attached a legal free download link for you here.

sometimes?

sometimes i run, sometimes i hide. sometimes i put awesome bitchin' heart signs high above my head. sometimes i deserve assholes to pollute my aura. other times i deserve total awesomeness to unsuspectedly infest my life.

right now i just feel like a choad. britney spears suxxxx. but this song reminds me of highschool. and sometimes, baby all i need is time. other times i just need a dreamy beach brah to toss a football alongside me on the beach.

right now i just need a vacation.

thankgodforawesomeboyfriendsandpuertovallarta.

a dedication.

when i was 14, i had it in for this dude. it was some total romeo and juliet kinda ish. he was the 'wrong side of the traxxx' sorta dude. i was the 'not really white trash but sorta' kinda tween.i wore long skirt dresses and had bushy eyebrows. outgrew my deliah's dark blue goth lipstick phase but hadn't quite adjusted to the contact lens kinda spurt. pretended to almost wanna skateboard. not quite hick-punk, almost there.

i remember buying third eye blind's 'semi-charmed life' single on cd. it came in an orangey yellow kind of cardboard sleeve with a cheap black plastic pull-out disc holder. they bleeped out the part about doing 'crystal meth until you break' verse. that was funny, because landis and i  totally knew what they said. we were hardcore like that. stephen jenkins was sort of my dreamboat. (funny, how this preceded my mark hoppus infatuation period but stemmed after my post antonio sabato jr. phase).

i remember this dude i really dug when i was 14. my first real date. or series, really. he's a solid dude. i still talk/know him to this day, although regrettably i haven't spent much time with him or talked to him as much as i should. we lead different lives. followed different paths. perhaps i knew this was our route back then when we first met, but somehow some odd 14 years later we still know one another, and i sincerely wish him the best. but yeah, damn. time passes. and quickly. i met him at a  classmate/friend's wedding thing, at least that's what i think it was. we talked until 5 am, which is a long fucking time for a freshman in highschool. it was in monroe, wisconsin, at some ghetto ass townie motel.

i don't remember much except for innocent punching and sorta not really smack talk flirting. we eventually had a secret makeout session under some baseball field bleachers about a year later when i was a whopping 15 (learned how to pluck my eyebrows, but still into blink 182). it was secret, though. for whatever reason. all i can remember is something about a camoflauge mini dress, ugly yellow platform boots, a bad movie at the goetz theater, and throwing my icecream cone on the ground. even then, i was smooth. mad moves, sweetie.

the next few years were a bit tumultuous. if that's a word. he was the first dude that bit me by the love bug. a lot has gone down since that day. but i remember between the icecream throwdown and the baseball dugout makeout sesh, (still bushy eyebrowed jodi), listening to this song after i purchased the 3eb cd and watching the vid relgiously on 120 minutes, thinking bout this dude. cursing myself, 'HOWS IT GONNA BE'  and just wanting, waiting, watching to run into him to silently mouth the lyrics, whether it be the mcdonalds drive-in in monroe, walmart, or his cousins trailer park.

here i am, 15 years later. and still applying this song to past dudes. the thing is, they don't deserve the right to this teenage angst. if i were to pick one guy to prove my dedicated angst to, with my bleach blonde back up bassist and bald sweet sungalsses bro to jam to, no dude i've known since i was 19 deserves this credit. i kinda wanna mouth to every ex homeboy "hows it gonna be, when you dont knoooow me, ' but i know it already. its gonna be you snooze you lose whatever dawg. whereas, to my 14 year old boo, i still think of you dude. you have a wife and child, and i am eternally grateful that you finally found happiness. like, legitamatly, cuz let's be real, we were'nt supposed to be. even in 9th grade.

but i am happy i got to experience raw emotion at14-15. and here i am, 28, and still reflecting fondly, to 3rd eye blind's hows it gonna be. no anger, resentment, bitterness, exactly how it should be.

to all yall post dudes, sorry, but even though itd be righteous to dedicate this noise yer way, you dont ruffle my feathers enough. you dont deserve my stephen jenkins blue eyed noise. i will only stalk junior high ex-boo's elevators with my 1990s alternative backup band.

jodi & molly - separation anxiety, the february edition.

so after the snowpocalypse of 2011, (fuck the snow, i'm more bothered by this cold shit), i had a pretty busy weekend/week. too many consecutive days without my furrball and gushy, comfy bedzone.

it was pretty badass, though. family time was pretty kewl.

example A: kronos

example B: the maternal unit

then before i knew it, i had to rush off to seattle for business shenaniganry. kinda was dreading a trip solo (don't ask me why), but i wound up having a super fantastic time.

Example A: super sweet view from my hotel balcony



Example B: got to spend time with an old (new) friend

Example C: BABY pac-man (duh)

Example D: SECKSI PINBALL

 Example E: room service, bitchezzzz

Example F: Last Minute Dinners with Old Pals

But really, even after beautiful lukewarm temperatures, super soft hotel beds, free food & entertainment up the wazoo, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't super happy to be back in frigid, hellacious Chicago. And there's one very obvious explanation. . .

Example A: miss mols