22 Aug 2014
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47 Women in a Concert Party Bus

Alameda native Judy Judy ("I married Mr. Judy, that's why") gives us a piece of her quirky mind Fridays on Alameda Patch.

47 Women in a Concert Party Bus 47 Women in a Concert Party Bus 47 Women in a Concert Party Bus 47 Women in a Concert Party Bus 47 Women in a Concert Party Bus 47 Women in a Concert Party Bus 47 Women in a Concert Party Bus 47 Women in a Concert Party Bus 47 Women in a Concert Party Bus

A few weeks ago, I went to the Heart/ Def Leppard concert with 47 of my closest girlfriends. 

Yeah, I said 47. But I'll get to that in a minute. 

Like it or not, the hair metal, rock 'n' roll band Def Leppard is — like  — part of the . When I heard they were going to be playing all of their greatest hits, I was stoked.

Upon receiving my confirmation email, I may have lost my mind a little bit. I may have made my most-bad-ass,  Billy Idol snarl while fist-pumping the rock 'n' roll "bull" hand gesture at my computer. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. 

I am not embarrassed to say I knew every word of every song the band played that Friday night at the Shoreline Amphitheatre.

But back to 47. Apparently, I am not the only mom who would have  given their left arm to go see Def Leppard. ( Rick Allen was pretty awesome, by the way.) Because someone told two friends, and then they told two friends, and so on, and so on...

The organizers decided to rent a bus for the night so no one had to drive. Duuude, we had our own bus! It was like we were on tour! It was what you and your college roommate dreamt about doing but couldn't because you were too broke:

"Hey, you know what would be rad? If we rented a bus, got all our friends together, and went to go see the Leopard. Man, that would be so killer!" 

On our bus, Charlie, our mullet-sporting bus driver, announced his rules over the loudspeakers as we boarded: No smoking cigarettes and no puking on the bus. I'm happy to say his demands were met. 

The best part of the night turned out to be what I thought might be the worst.

The organizers thought it would be fun to get T-shirts made that say, "Def Cougars."

To this I said, "Sure! That sounds fun, count me in!" And then I thought about it.   

Def Cougars? Wait, I'm not a cougar! If anything, I'm a MILF (MILF = Mama Is Lookin' Fine.) And, yes, as a matter of fact, that's exactly what it stands for! In any case, I'm sure not wearing MILF across my chest, either. Why did I agree to this? 

That was until we got to the concert. 

Those cougar shirts were a huge success! Why?

A. 47 women sporting the same shirt? Awesome.
B. Someone asked if I'd sell them my tee for $40. Not a bad mark up for $10 dollar duds.
C. People saying, "My wife would LOVE that shirt! Are you selling them? Do you have a website?" 

Hold up. You want to sign your wife up to be a Def Cougar? On purpose? These Cougar shirts are...  Winning

The moral of my story is... Well, I don't really have one.

But if I did, it would be this: Most of the Def Cougars were moms whose kids go to either Edison, Franklin or Bay Farm. They, like me, are moms and wives around the age of forty. We manage jobs, homes, families — the list is endless.

And, sometimes, it's nice just to get with your friends and let your hair down. (Or tease it up, as the case may be.)

True, most of us wouldn't characterize ourselves as either MILFs or Cougars. But that Friday night, we were total rock stars. And, baby, it felt good.

Rock on, Def Cougars!

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