Jul 232016


Much wow, this was Henry’s 8th Warped Tour (I think? I don’t feel like counting, but it’s less than my official tally that’s for sure because I’m more legit than he is). What this means is that he is basically a seasoned, grizzled pro at this point. Let’s ask him some questions about his long-term relationship with Warped Tour and if he plans on siring any illegitimate children out of wedlock with them, too. JUST LIKE HE DID WITH ME.

Do you plan on siring any illegitimate children out of wedlock with Warped Tour?

Say that again!? [WRITER REPEATS QUESTION.] I don’t know. Is that even possible?

There were several times when I went off on my own during the day. What did you and Chooch do that I missed?

We just walked around and got some Twix [they had a booth there] and Chooch spent some time in the water tent. We saw a little bit of Cold Rain but then he saw some vendor and then we ventured off. I don’t know, we just walked around and then he kept wanting a bucket hat. [There were some merch booths selling them because nothing screams POP PUNK like a bucket hat?]

Out of all the Warped Tours you’ve attended throughout the years, give us your top 3 worst moments.

Great, now I have to think. [He is seriously thinking about this too OMG. No wait, he’s watching something about the Kennedy assassination. No, he’s thinking again!]

#3. I don’t know what year it was, but having to listen to Katy Perry sing.

#2. Whatever year it was when it was 1000 degrees there and it was miserable. [I know what you’re thinking: Isn’t that every year?? But this one year it was actually so bad that someone died, I think, maybe.]

#1. Breakdown 2016. [You guys I think he’s referring to the 87 times I wanted to leave last week because I’m emotionally cracked.]


If you had a booth at Warped Tour, what would you be selling?


Huh. What would I sell….[Literally, he has no imagination.] I don’t know. Let me think about that one.

[TWENTY MINUTES LATER] Your art, and meat products, because there’s way too much vegetarian shit there.

[Um, if he’s referring to the ONE tent that Peta2 has there, then yeah: SO MUCH.]

Kevin Lyman, the founder of Warped Tour, asks you personally for a list of bands to forever blacklist. I guess he feels an affinity to you because you’re both middle-aged with probably have the same amount of callouses. Anyway, what bands are on your list? GO HOGWILD, BOO.


[Wow, this just in: Henry doesn’t care when disgusting, misogynistic bands like FALLING IN REVERSE and ATTILA play at Warped Tour, that’s why they didn’t make his list. Oh OK, privileged white male! Way to use your god-given Caucasian penis for good.]

It’s the morning after Warped Tour, i.e. DEAR DIARY TIME! What do you write on the back of the Faygo Red Pop label* about this year’s experience at Warped Tour?

I can’t have secrets and then tell you! [I won’t stop looking at him until he answers.]

When you look at me like that and start typing, it scares me. I don’t like your line of questioning. Too much thinking involved. Why can’t it just be yes or no answers. [Ew he just told me he doesn’t like my attitude?!]

*[That’s what I imagine Henry’s diary to be: a clump of Faygo bottle labels crumbled into a ball and punched under the mattress.]

OK fine, pretend like it’s a postcard that you’re sending Chris & Monica from the great bustling parking lot that is Warped Tour:

Is this a new question? Why would I write Chris and Monica a postcard?

[I’ll start it for you: DEAR CHRIS AND MONICA]

[I just asked Chooch the same question since Henry’s brain is creaking and smoking as he tries to think. Chooch would just write: ‘Sup.]

Dear Chris & Monica,

Having a great time, as always. [I think he’s sarcasming.]

Brought my A&D ointment which I have been applying liberally right around the TENDER AREAS inside my thighs. I wanted to wear booty shorts today but I had to wear regular-lengthed basic white man shorts on account of all the CHAFING. Thought we were going to leave early because Erin was being a psycho but then somehow we ended staying later than ever before, wtf guys. I got to eat an ice pop and it reminded me of the days when I was a paperboy except that it cost approximately $8 more. Um, I bought my work-husband the Masked Intruder CD not because I’m thoughtful or anything but because he is my dom.

[OK fine, I might have taken some liberties after the “having a great time” line because I was tired of him sitting here saying, “Um…..uh…..”]

You seem less irritated about having to chaperone Chooch and me than you have in earlier years. Can you confirm this is because you’re sufficiently dead inside, or do you secretly LIKE WARPED TOUR now?

I think it’s a little bit of both. I like some of it and I’m pretty much dead inside because of you and Chooch.

But you hated Bled Fest – why?

I didn’t hate Bled Fest I just didn’t like it. I never said I hated Bled Fest! It was just too hot—and it wasn’t my type of music!

[Let me translate this for you, because I’m well-versed in reading between Henry’s blue-collared lines: Not enough booty shorts.]


Talk about how you’re able to sleep every year through super loud, heavy bands (the lucky bands this year were Secrets and Waterparks):

I don’t know it’s just something I can do.


If Warped Tour was around when you were a teenager, what bands would you have liked to see in the line-up that was probably printed in the PITTSBURGH PRESS along with the date that the tickets went on sale so you would know when to go to KAUFMANN’S at CENTURY III MALL to buy them. I’ll just go ahead and start you off with Ted Nugent:

  2. Iron Maiden
  3. Judas Priest
  4. Probably ZZ Top
  5. CCR
  6. The Guess Who


[ED.NOTE: Don’t post pictures of illustrated weeners on Facebook because you will be reported for it and it will be removed, even if it looks like a Simpsons’ weener.]

Speaking of weeners, last year, that ginger-fuckerbitch Jonny Craig got kicked off Warped Tour for flapping his weener at his merch girl. Would you rather have Jonny Craig’s weener flapped in your face at such a close proximity that it gets tangled up in your beard, or would you rather get caught flapping your own weener at Jeffree Star and have him paint it with his lipgloss line? You can be honest, I won’t tell anyone:

Really? You’re not going to tell anyone? Pfft. [He just mumbled “Boy, you’re having fun with this.”] Probably the latter because I don’t like Jonny Craig.

2016 highlight:

Bradley [from Emarosa] hugging Chooch [during their set. Don’t worry Henry, I’m here to beef up your answers].

ON THE REAL HENRY, like how giddy do you get when Bradley talks to us?

How WHAT? Giddy? I don’t. I don’t need to get giddy; I have you two that get giddy and quiet.

[Oh OH, Bradley is totally his #mce (Barb, that means Man Crush Everyday).]


In closing, what advice would you give another dad who is going to Warped Tour with his kids for the very first time? And don’t say “Drop them off”:

Well that was going to be my answer, drop them off. Since I can’t say that….um….bring lots of cash for merch and food. I don’t know what else….but I’m sure you do.



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Jul 212016

I have never been one to try and hide my deep-rooted love for soft rock. I don’t even try to downplay it by calling it “my guilty pleasure.” No, I’m PROUD to be a card-carrying member of the octogenarian set who sway in their rockers and walkers to Engelbert Humperdinck and Barry Manilow.

Ever since we determined that the kitchen stereo speakers still work, the first thing I do every time I go to Gillcrest is immediately crank up the soft rock. It brings a sense of normalcy to all of us I think, and Corey has even started listening to the soft rock radio station in his car.

This particular station is also a breeding ground for sweet, blissful 80s pop. Prince was on last Sunday and I was like, “EVERYONE STFU SO I CAN MAKE MY WEEKLY SOFT ROCK DANCE PARTY INSTAVID” but naturally, you can still hear Chooch’s big ass mouth in the background.

PRINCE PARTY AT @thestonick #prince #whendovescry #chandelier

A video posted by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin) on

And then Phil came on because why wouldn’t he?

PHIL PARTY AT @thestonick

A video posted by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin) on

Anyway, tonight Chooch and I were sitting when he said something like, “That sounds fun….no, now it looks boring” and I looked up to see a commercial for the ROCK AND ROMANCE CRUISE?! A cruise jam-packed with a ton of soft rock bands from the 70s that I FUCKING LOVE so I nearly pushed Chooch off the couch for saying it looked boring.


Firefall?? STEPHEN BISHOP? Oh you know he’s going to sing that Tootsie jam. I literally just woke up Henry to scream-read this line-up to him.

“AND GUESS WHO THE CELEBRITY GUEST IS??” I squealed. “DELILAH!” That was his cue to fall back asleep.

But holy shit, Ambrosia, you guys. Ambrosia.

“You’re the Only Woman” is the only song Henry and I have danced together to (back when we liked each other, like way before Chooch was born, lol) and even when I was a kid, I would think to myself, “GOSH I HOPE SOMEDAY THIS IS HOW SOME IDIOT FEELS ABOUT ME.” Same with Foreigner’s “Waiting For a Girl Like You” but come on like what girl doesn’t have a diary entry about that one, I mean right. That song is #goals.

Anyway, sometimes when I feel like I need help falling back into like with my blue-collared man-friend, I will listen to some Ambrosia, and say a wistful “Aw” out loud. I have that song on my the DJ’s play list for my imaginary never-wedding, right smack in between Army of Lovers and Cock Robin. It’s too bad I’ll never get married, because in my head, it’s a FEAST FOR THE SENSES. You’d walk away feeling thankful it wasn’t your own wedding, but also inexplicably sad that it’s over. And hopefully slightly scared that it happened at all.


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Jul 202016

After another night of shitty news, I decided that the only way to end things on a good note would be to go and deep throat an ice cream cone.

We ended up stopping at Sugar & Spice since it was on our way home and our first choice was too crowded. (I WAS NOT IN THE MOOD TO STAND IN LINE WITH PEASANTS.)

Look, listen, do whatever it is you do to pay attention: I have no beef with this establishment. I definitely wouldn’t put it in my top local faves list but it’s not like, disgusting there or anything.  However, on this night, some RUDE FUCKING BROAD was at the window and, after already being annoyed with the people in front of us (the one girl had on cam sweatpants with flip flops and it just rubbed me the wrong way), she set me off before I even opened my mouth to order.

I’m sorry, but you have over 30 flavors of soft serve which I could not peruse until I got up to the window, so don’t fucking rush me  I hate being rushed. Go wipe down a counter or something and I’ll call you back when I’m ready, maybe?!

She was scowling and I didn’t want to stand there any longer than I had to so I blurted out “Cinnamon” but immediately had remorse and then Broad asked in a rude tone what kind of tone and I started to say sugar because I always confuse the cone-types and she cut me off to spit, “WE CANT PUT IT IN A SUGAR CONE. THE SOFTSERVE IS TOO HEAVY” and I totally looked like some sort of soft serve n00b to the guy who was still standing there waiting for his milkshake.

But the way she cut me off, I can’t even. My tolerance was already down real low, like the lowest rung of limbo, and this bitch and her highfalutin’ soft serve superiority was about to knock the pole right onto the rink IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN and I hope you do because my rollerskating analogies are a little bit rusty.

You guys, I then had the AUDACITY to ask her for sprinkles.  Whaaaaat was I thinking! I’m an alien sent to earth for my first ice cream and I fucking blew it, apologies to the Mother Ship.

“YOU CANT PUT SPRINKLES ON THIS, ITS TOO SOFT.” Wow, really, you have to straight scold me about this? You’re the one dishing out limp soft serve, you dumb ice cream cooze.

I literally snatched the cone from her hands and, as she was muttering in her bitch-voice about “putting the sprinkles on the side” I cut her off and in a PURPOSELY FAKE UPBEAT VOICE THAT WASNT TOO SOFT TO SPRINKLE WITH SARCASM, I sniped, “OK GREAT NO THANKS BYE” and stomped off through the parking lot while making loud, passive aggressive declarations to my 10-year-old son and the man who was waiting for his milkshake that I would NEVER come back to this place again.

PUT THE SPRINKLES ON THE SIDE. Oh for fuck’s sake. If I want to make a mess with my ice cream cone that I’m paying for, that’s 100% within my right as an American! IF I WANT SPRINKLES, DUMP THAT SHIT ON MY ICE CREAM AND TELL ME TO HAVE A NICE NIGHT AND I WILL SAY THANKS, YOU DO THE SAME

THIS IS HOW IT SHOULD HAVE PLAYED OUT. I have read from this script plenty of times

Henry tried to play devils advocate which is basically the only character he knows how to play because he’s so one-dimensional and I interrupted his empty words to shriek, “I’VE HAD THIS SAME SOFT SERVE AT OTHER PLACES AND GOT SPRINKLES ON IT!” And it is definitely the same soft serve because all those places use the same OMG 30+ FLAVORS sign and it’s the same machine!! Sugar & Spice isn’t unique! This isn’t their own creation! They use the same mix that every other place uses and I know this because I eat a lot of fucking ice cream.

I know my fucking soft serve.

Henry was stuck there at the window because he still had to pay, but I had already marched off to the car. I considered viciously pitching my cone in the garbage can on the way there but let’s be real: I’m too much of a tightwad to waste money like that so I leaned against the car and angrily lapped at my stupid too-melty-for-sprinkles ice cream while shuddering with rage.

What a dumb, surly bitch. I continued to spout off vague threats as we drove past her on our way out, like how I wanted to chuck my cone against her stupid window. “I don’t think she can hear you,” Henry mumbled.

“Oh I’m going to leave a really nasty review,” I growled against a background of mirthless laughter, cutting down my melty ice cream cone with my razor-edged tongue. And as soon as I opened the Yelp app to destroy this establishment with my hateful prose (“Not only do your employees have no chill, but either does your ice cream!”), the first thing I saw was a review from my MORTAL YELP ENEMY.


So of course I had to clear my throat and read it out loud to Henry in my best Robin Leach voice.

“A den of sug’ry iniquity hidden in a seemingly innocuous suburb and building” — get the fuck over yourself.


One time he sent me a message and was like “you should add some pictures of yourself to your profile” and I was like “That sentence was too simple. Needs 87 more adjectives.” I hate him so much. (Projecting? Or naw?)

I should probably just go to bed.

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Jul 202016



For years now, Warped Tour has been my escape, the one day a year when I set aside all responsibilities and sadness and just LET IT ALL GO. It’s the one day where I don’t feel self-conscious. Where I don’t feel fat. Where I don’t feel judged. Where I don’t feel like a fucking lonely outsider. I have never had a bad experience with anyone in the crowd, and Henry and I actually hardly fight on this day (he knows not to fuck with Our Lady of Warped on this day). I’ve gone to therapy, I’ve done the anti-depressant thing, but nothing has ever helped me like this one day does.

But this year was different.

I mean, I could fill this post with a bunch of lies about how perfect the whole day was, but I’m not a liar. This isn’t OhLyingErin.

It wasn’t Warped Tour’s fault. It wasn’t that I didn’t like any of the bands. It wasn’t that I was feeling suddenly jaded around all the young scene kids. It wasn’t that Henry and I were fighting. It wasn’t any of these things.

It was that, for the first time ever, I am honestly feeling that low and depressed that I couldn’t fucking shake it off. Things have been Not Great for me and my family over the last few months. I try to smile through it and continue on with life, but I think maybe I’ve been doing too great of a job with bottling it all up and now that bottle has sprung a leak. Maybe 15 leaks.

I think the impetus was answering my phone that morning when I shouldn’t have answered it. We had literally JUST WALKED THROUGH THE GATES and were running up the big hill to the Vans tent on the other side when I got the call. I thought it was a florist that had been trying to deliver flowers to my house and kept missing me, so I answered it. But instead, it was an estate attorney I had contacted the day before, calling to get some background on my situation and I was like, “Well, I’m kind of at Warped Tour right now…?” but she was all, “This will just take a few minutes.” So there I was, crouched next to a tree, holding a hand over my free ear to try and hear this lady over top of three bands who were starting to play on nearby stages, wistfully wishing I was any one of the hundreds of kids jogging past me with literally no cares in the world while I’m on the phone talking about wills and estates and reverse mortgages. This isn’t me. This isn’t who I am. Talking about adult things? Ew.


It just made me realize that there is no escaping this one. Not even being “home” at my beloved Warped Tour was enough this time.

I hung up the phone and rejoined Henry and Chooch. I was totally out of sorts, high-strung, and emotional. We started to watch In Hearts Wake and after one and a half songs, I turned to Henry and said, “I can’t be here. Let’s just leave.”

He and Chooch were both like, “Are you fucking kidding, we just got here and you love Warped Tour?!”

Four times this happened. I wanted to leave and ran off to the exit, but then Henry convinced me to stay. I was: on edge, lunacy fringe, snapping at both him and Chooch, walking off in the middle of Knuckle Puck without telling them where I was going, throwing an actual hissy fit during Hail the Sun, a band I fucking love and was looking forward to seeing again but Chooch kept trying to talk to me and I projected and stormed off, blaming him and Henry for ruining my day, being a certified psychotic asshole, and literally not giving a shit who saw me flipping out because EMOTIONS.

I haven’t felt this out of control since my mid-20s. The thoughts I had swirling through my head were scary and I never want to let them back in.


During a rare moment of stability after my first public break down.

But then I got sucked back into the emotional spin cycle again, synapses playing laser tag death matches in my brain, which left me straight sulking and pouting alone in a seat under the amphitheater, not even caring when Masked Intruder walked past me.  That’s some heavy duty saltiness, right there.

But finally by the afternoon, I calmed down. Corey and my mom both texted me and assured me that leaving Warped Tour wasn’t going to do any good, that I should stay and make the most of it, and even Chooch was like, “MOMMY, LOOK, YOU KNOW YOU DON’T WANT TO LEAVE. YOU LOVE WARPED TOUR. CALM THE FUCK DOWN, EMAROSA PLAYS AT 3:25.”

And thank god I didn’t leave. Because once I stopped hyperventilating and took a moment to just sit quietly alone on the hillside, I felt ready to salvage the rest of the day. I hate that the first quarter of it was so tainted with my mental poison,  considering my motto is “No Bitching at Warped Tour.” But I just don’t even know who I am anymore.  This was kind of my wake-up call. I’ve been so busy worrying about how the current situation is affecting everyone else, that I haven’t taken the time to mourn properly. No place better than Warped Tour to open up the flood gates, I guess.

Plus, Chooch pointed out this guy and that was pretty amusing.

Honestly, god bless Chooch for staying so calm while I was saying things like I JUST WANT TO FUCKING GO HOME AND STAY IN BED FOREVER because that’s the kind of excellent example I set. DRAW MOTHER A GIN BATH, SONNY BOY!

Look at him up there, reppin’ Cardboard Swords. This kid is so immersed in the scene, and it makes me extremely proud. I hope one day he’s in a band, playing Warped Tour! He better save room in the bus for his MOMMY.

Eventually, I was able to smile again and let my shoulders relax.

I stayed for the whole thing and, like all of the years before, it really did help clear my mind and calm me down. It just took a little longer this year. Which is why we should have gone to a second Warped date, HENRY. #DoOver

I think on my gravestone, it will say something like “AT HOME IN HEAVENLY WARPED TOUR” or “RESTING IN PERPETUAL WARPED TOUR.” Or “IN GODS ARMS AT WARPED TOUR.” I don’t fucking know. Something like that. I’m counting on you, Chooch.

[Next: either band stuff or a Chooch guest post?]

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Jul 202016


When you’re hurting so bad but you’ve got this great album to cry to and it’s so fucking FIRE that it dries your tears before your face gets too ugly.



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Jul 192016

Sometimes I feel like I’m toeing the MOMMYBLOG line, and other times I feel like “wait have I mentioned my child enough on the Internet this month for him to be real?”

So here are some updates about that kid who gave me a SCAR THAT STILL TINGLES.

1. camp

Chooch is in camp.

I’m not quite sure what he does in camp because every time he starts talking about it, I drift off. Not relevant to my interests, you know?

So he’s been in camp for most of July now and seems to really love it. They do academic shit in the morning and then Venture Outdoors comes in and take them outside to do things. Apparently he went fishing (and had lots of things to say about NICO*, like how NICO is the most popular kid at camp so of course NICO was the only kid that caught a fish, THAT DICK) and geocaching oh thank god. You know how he loves his fucking geocaching.

*(UPDATE: Chooch and Nico are bros now.)

But all of this almost didn’t happen when the bus never showed up for him on the first day of camp. I was already en route to work on the trolley so I basically just short-circuited because I’m unable to think logically when things don’t go as planned. Luckily, Henry was able to get a hold of HOT NAYBOR CHRIS who drove him to camp (it’s just at a school on the other side of our town, like a 2 mile walk and maybe if it was 1987 I would tell him to just hoof it but hello, it’s 2016 and the world is full of danger. So hooray for HNC being a hero!

(I spelled “hooray” like this at first: hurray. I need help.)

So then Henry was all, “You’re going to have to tell work that you’re going to be late tomorrow because someone needs to wait for the bus with him to make sure it comes this time” and of course I wanted to die because ew parenting. So I told Glenn what was going on and he was all, “OK? Why are you telling me?” and I was like, “Hello because that’s our new protocol? To tell Stupid Team Lead Glenn when we’re going to be late?!” Literally we were just told to do this like a week prior and he already forgot.

The next morning, I dragged Chooch down to the street corner where this mystical bus was supposed to vaporize. Henry told me what time it was supposed to be there, which I immediately forgot, and then something about waiting because it could be late? I gave up pretty immediately, because waiting for school buses just isn’t for me. I was totally stressed out and when the lady whose house we were standing in front of came out with her dog, I felt the need to psychotically explain to her what we were doing.

Now, this lady only lives 5 houses down from me and I have seen her a thousand times, but we never talk.

I always thought she seemed bitchy, but when I told her about the bus incident from the day before, she became concerned.

“Where is the camp? Do you want me to drive him?”

Like, totally neighbor-like, you know?

I felt inclined to maybe wait a few more minutes for the bus, since I had really only given it five minutes before wanting to give up.

My texts to Henry were pretty ridiculous and panic-stricken. Chooch was calm, though.

Neighbor went back inside with her dog and I was like, “Oh thank god, now I can call Henry and scream at him.” So that’s what I was doing when Neighbor came back outside with her coffee cup.

“It still didn’t come?” she asked incredulously. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll drive him. I have 6 grandkids, this is just what I do.”

This was one of those THINK, ERIN! moments. On one hand, I was tired of standing there waiting for a make believe bus.

But then….stranger danger.

But then we introduced ourselves, so that’s OK right? Her name is Catherine. I could just tell Henry, “Well, I don’t know why he didn’t come home from camp, Henry. I mean, I saw him get in Catherine’s car and then they drove off together, presumably in the right direction.”

LUCKILY the bus pulled up the curb right then so I shoved him on and then literally ran all the way to the trolley and GUESS WHO WAS A PARENT AND STILL MADE IT TO WORK ON TIME?

(And um, don’t worry people, I probably wouldn’t have let Catherine take him. Probably.)

(Speaking of Catherine, I said hello to her this morning and she acted like she didn’t even know who I was, WOW JUST WOW. I thought we shared something that morning.)

2. that fucking Doll.

I went to get into bed the other night when I felt HAIR on my pillow. Like real life hair. So I screamed, “OMG WHAT IS THAT?!” which woke up Henry, and then I proceeded to go back for seconds and thirds while screaming, “OMG SRSLY WHAT IS IT?!” and Henry was all, “YEAH SO KEEP TOUCHING IT” while I nearly knocked over the lamp in my effort to turn it on. Turns out it was that motherfucking doll. Man. Just when I thought Doll was dormant.

Well played, Chooch.

3. Summer Accusations

On two separate occasions, I heard Chooch being screamed at by HNC’s fake wife. The first time, I was like, “DO NOT WANT TO DEAL” so I went back to painting and pretended like some psycho Yinzer wasn’t interrogating my kid, because I have to tell you, it’s not always worth defending him because he’s not always innocent, OK? It sounded like she was yelling about her porch lights, but whatever.

The second time, Chooch was outside with one of his friends when she started laying into him again about the same thing. But then Henry came home from the store so she retreated because she won’t yell at Chooch in front of us. As soon as Henry came in the house, I was like, “Wait for it…” and sure enough, she came back out and started Yinzer-yapping about it again. This time, I went outside and asked, “What’s going the problem out here?” because I WAS FEELING LIKE A FIGHT. She immediately lowered her voice and quickly said “Oh, I’m not blaming him, I just want him to know that if he knows who broke my lights, he can tell me.”

OH YEAH SURE PSYCHO. Believe me, no one is going to tell her if they accidentally break her shit because she flies off the handle so freely.

So she continued to talk about how it just sucks to leave the house at 5am for work and see that her lights are broken, and that they “mean a lot to her.”

I know what you’re thinking. “Are they HEIRLOOMS? Did Thomas Edison pass these down to her?!”

FRIENDS. These are literally those cheap ass sidewalk lights that you can get at the dollar store.

They cost like $3 at Dollar General.

SHE IS LITERALLY JUST BITCHING TO BITCH and also they’re not even broken, they were just knocked out of the ground.

Also I know Chooch didn’t do it because he knows to stay the fuck out of her yard because YOU NEVER KNOW IF SHE’S GOING TO STUFF YOU INTO HER OVEN.

The next day, Chooch ended up sleeping over his friend’s house and I decided that since he had an alibi now, this would be the perfect time for me to go out there and assault her stupid yard-bulbs with a baseball bat.

Henry frowned at this idea, so I removed the violence and destruction from the plan (sigh) and changed it to just “gently knocking them over” so then I could be all “OH BUT CHOOCH WASN’T EVEN HERE LAST NIGHT,  BETTER GET A NEW SUSPECT” but Henry said, “OR YOU COULD JUST LET IT GO.”


(It’s probably a good idea that I listened to Henry because she just had a huge fight with HNC and another neighbor last weekend and I honestly thought I was going to have to call the cops. Don’t worry, I have audio of it.)

It’s going to be a long summer.



We were waiting to cross the street and Purple Pants walked by so I took this picture of her with Chooch!! That’s all.

5. Chooch vs. Meat

Every year after Warped Tour, Chooch decides he’s going to be a vegetarian (there is a lot of Peta2 propaganda there, which obviously doesn’t bother me because hello I’m a vegetarian) but then it fizzles out. However, this year he seems to really be trying and is pissed because there are no meatless options at camp. This goes hand-in-hand with the whole “parenting” thing I guess, but I didn’t know that he skipped lunch yesterday because of this! He said he told the lunch lady that he doesn’t eat meat, and she screamed, “TAKE THE TRAY!” Henry thinks he’s exaggerating but I have this scene painted so vividly in my mind that I refuse to consider that it could be hyperbolic. Anyway, Chooch ended up just eating a piece of bread for lunch?! I feel like there should be dietary options but I don’t feel like calling because I’m not Henry, so instead I put on my mom jeans tonight and made Chooch a PB&J to take with him tomorrow He supervised, don’t worry. I guess I did it right.

6. Probably Not a Serial Killer

Chooch just came in the house and said, “Marky’s mom has—-” and then he STARTED SOBBING before straight wailing, “—this small ass cat! It’s so cute!” He continued crying so hard he could no longer get any more words out. Then he turned around and went back outside.
Probably, he’s not going to grow up to be a serial killer.
I nodded off several times while writing this but posted it anyway. WITHOUT PROOFREADING. (Like I ever proofread.) I live so recklessly, where’s my helmet.
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Jul 182016

This is from 2011 but still relevant, if only for the fact that Henry still wears booty shorts. Too tired for any new content right now. Check back later, next week, next year. 

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Jul 162016

2009 Oct 17 002

Guys, people laugh when I say that I made a lot of friends during my time on LiveJournal, but it’s TRUE and I have been lucky (and in some cases….unlucky) enough to have met quite a bit of them. Bill is one of the ones who falls into the “I’m Lucky” category. Bill is from Michigan, and the first time we met was in 2008 when he came to Pittsburgh for one of my game nights. He brought his then-girlfriend now-wife Jessi with him and the rest is AS THEY SAY, HISTORY. Those two have been integral players in our lives since then, coming to Chooch’s birthday parties, taking us on vacation to Tennessee with them, showing us the wonders of FRANKENMUTH. (I’m going to try to get Jessi up in here too for her own People Feature.)

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Here you can see Bill elbow-deep in his side-gig: balloon sword creator for children’s birthday parties. I just went through all of my Birthday Party albums in Flickr and in each one, there are pictures of Bill and Jessi with their sleeves rolled up, hanging decorations, icing cookies, blowing up balloons — these guys are gems and I’m crying right now because EMOTIONS.

Bill is one of the friendliest, most hilarious people I’ve ever met. His comedic timing is flawless; hates Guy Fieri; and he is always down to encourage and egg on any random obsessions I have, especially when the side effect is terrorizing Henry. Bill is also part-owner of a comic and game shop in Wayne, MI called Warriors 3 – he has literally built a career around having fun. That’s how fucking brilliant he is. And he loves Chooch so much that he arranged for GERARD WAY (My Chemical Romance) to give him a Twitter shout out on his 8th birthday:

Bill is also the kind of guy who will take one for the team and ask the weird waiter at Dollywood if he could take his picture when you’re too afraid to do it yourself. In other words: Bill is an A+ friend, would recommend, would hang out again and again and again. Get yourselves a Bill!


1.Walk us through a typical day in the life of Bill: 

Most morning start with the sounds of Bob (my cat) waking me up outside the door, or Louise (my dog) barking to get in. Then I usually do all the requisite pet feedings and then take care of the morning constitutional and bathing rituals. From there either catch up on TV or head out to work at the store. Then I spend the day working and doing my thing there. From there, me and Jessi head home and mellow out and watch TV. Once Jessi heads off to bed, I usually pop on and play video games with Worm on his stream for a few hours, then hit the sackadoodle. Wednesdays are bum fight days where I randomly go to hobo camps and challenge their leaders to hand to hand combat. Plus Saturday is for tacos.

May 08 2010 162 copy

2. You’re supposedly into bowling, I hear. Build your dream bowling league, anyone in the world, fictional, dead, alive:
Well, any bowler worth his salt knows you need the Dude and Walter. I would add Abraham Lincoln because I am an admirer and I feel like he would know how to tickle the lanes. Finally, I would want Bullseye, the Daredevil villain because he never misses and every game would be a 300. Maybe Chaka Khan.
3. If you and Jessi had met via Craigslist, what would your ad have said to lure her in?
When I was single in the early double 00s, I always used the headline “50 Million Elvis Fans Can’t Be Wrong” on Yahoo Personals. It worked once, but it was a very bad experience. But then, because of that experience I met Jessi, so ………..
4. Chooch started calling you a “douche cup” a few years ago over a Lego dispute. Now it’s the year 2025 and you and Chooch are business partners, marketing a brand new game by the same name. Explain the rules to us:
I always imagined douche cup to be a party game. The judge has to make a semi-ordinary claim, like “I just got back from New York.” Then everybody else playing has to come up with a crazy way to one-up them like “Well I just got back from Geroge Wendt’s private sauna in Montana.”  The winner gets a point. After 5 points, you are the Douche Cup!
5. Guy Fieri is visiting your town of Wayne, MI and the mayor assigns you the responsibility of showing him around. Where do you take him?
The garbage dump, I imagine that’s where he gets all his recipe ideas and style from. Get some aloe for that sick burn on you Guy Fieri!
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6. Being one of the owners of Warriors 3 Comics & Games, you’re pretty much the President of Game Night. What are five of your all-time favorite games to bust out when you have friends over?
My first call is kind of an old hat these days, but Cards Against Humanity has been the source of some of the most laughs I’ve ever had. One of my fondest memories is of me and Chooch teaming up to bust heads with that game. My next current super favorite is Camel Up, a camel racing game by Z-Man games. You pretty much bet on a camel race that usually goes back and forth and is fun as hell. 7 Wonders from Asmodee Games is another favorite. You draft cards and try to build up victory points. It’s pretty groovy. Every Christmas when we throw our party, we always break out Charades. A true classic, but fun as hell when everybody is loose enough to act out whatever craziness the other team can come up with. Another is Clusterfight by some company whom I can’t recall the name of. You go around and play a “hero” to fight on your behalf, then once everybody picks a fighter (a myriad of fictional and historical figures), then everybody bets on who will win, then everybody gets to play an action card to influence the fight in the way of their choice. Yay.
7. You’re forced to hear the same song play every single time you flush the toilet, any toilet, and it was chosen by your mortal enemy which means it’s a song you hate. What song is it??
It’s gotta be “Far Behind” by Candlebox. I have no idea why I would divulge something like this to you, but there it is. Either that or any part of the Toby Keith discography.
8. I love knowing what people were like in high school. So tell us. (Also, knowing the answer to the above question totally had me sitting here with steepled fingers, doing that throaty giggle I do when I’m about to troll the fuck out of someone.)
Honestly, I was pretty plain and quiet. I wore bands shirts and was, “Hey, it’s that fat guy. Hi dude.” I had 0 self esteem and failed all of my courting attempts miserably. I had some great groups of friends, despite the fact I was an opinionated dickhole when it came to movies and music. I’m kind of surprised I still had any friends, yeah that bad. Otherwise I was a pretty dope guy I suppose.

Aug 30 2011 334 copy

9. Many years ago, you, Jessi and I tried to interview a bait shop owner with NO SUCCESS. What advice do you wish the seasoned fishing industry gossip columnists would have given us young, up-and-coming bait shop journalists on how to TACKLE the underbelly of worm dispensaries and get real answers to the hard questions?
First off, I wish they had told us to dress is camouflage head to toe. I feel like it would have made the former bait shop proprietor at ease to be in his native garb. Second, I think they would have told us to find a phone number and call ahead, but I disagree. How will you catch their nefarious deeds if you plan your prying eyes ahead of time. I think it helps to know your native fish, so you can have good icebreakers like, “How’s them halibut jumpin?” should halibut be native to your bait shop owner’s baitable body of water.
10. Write a short poem about your love for Hardee’s.
       The sweet smell of cinnamon and raisin
       Hark, are those fresh buttered biscuits tickling my nose?
       The sausage sizzles like a lion, heading for his next Christian meal
       There better not be a fucking Mega Bus in my way!
And that’s my friend Bill! If you ever find yourself in the Detroit-ish area of Michigan, looking for a place to hang with cool people, I IMPLORE you to check out Bill’s shop, Warriors 3. I’m not a gamer or comic book-reader, but anytime I have visited, the sense of camaraderie is overwhelming. GEE I WONDER WHY.
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Jul 152016

8:53am: En route to WARPED TOUR and we all hate each other so bad woooooo!! Trying to order morning beverage at McDonald’s and Henry wants to kill us for being two strong-willed sassy ass individuals who know what they want. 

Yay I got my cup of flavored ice milk, thanks McCafe. 

Also, I hesitate to live blog these days because the WordPress app loves to take my pictures and shrink them down to near-thumbnails, or flat out flip them upside down. NO THATS NOT ME TRYING TO BE EDGY. That’s WordPress being a cunt*. 

*(Or, a Cindy, in my auto-correct’s opinion.)

9:29: Henry just went to Shop n Save to get us granola bars so we don’t perish during the day, and now he is getting gas: ALL THINGS HE SHOILD HAVE DONE LAST NIGHT. 

10:01: We just pulled in the lot and Henry is talking about really important things like “I don’t remember these lanes being so narrow. Did they make them narrower?” And something-something about how if you have 3 or more people in your car, blah blah who cares. 

10:05: Chooch is reading the names off the band tents as we drive through the parking lots. “Chelsea Grin–she’s always here.”  LOL N00B that’s a band of guys not a girl, idiot. 

10:12: Now I’m here in line ALONE while Henry goes to guest services to get his FREE PARENT TICKET lol. 

Lol I was just going to write about how parent-y Henry is and then some teenage girl behind me in line kept saying she was so hungry and she should have eaten breakfast so I turned around and gave her a granola bar out of my bag LIKE A TOTAL MOM but my bag is a BLED FEST drawstring so that helps negate my momness….I think?!

10:40: Kids behind us are talking about how great Neil Patrick Harris is (agreed) and they’re all name-dropping all of his projects, and being all “yeah I’ve seen that, yeah I love that” and then the one kid was all “What about Doogie Howser?” And the main know-it-all was all “Whassat?” And I thought he was kidding but the other guy has to explain what it was and I’m dying. #NPHN00b

11:15: well my plan of using Warped Tour as escape failed. The mess of my personal life has followed me here and I’m in tears and just want to go home. 

Henry and Chooch are making me stay but I’m so dead inside LOLOL

11:30: ok I drank water and breathed I think I’m ok for now lol also Silent Planet is screaming at me so that is good. 

11:45: Chooch just excitedly yelled something and made a beeline through the crowd toward the stage New Found Glory is playing on and I was like wow, I didn’t realize he was such a fan? But then he kept running straight to this: 

12:32: just played our favorite game: Lose Henry In a Crowd. So now Chooch and I are sitting here watching him run his hand through his hair in frustration and I feel a lot better about life. 

1:40: Chooch got some kind of Popsicle thing and the shiller was all, “Lucky, this is the last one in the flavor” and then Henry tried to buy the same flavor after dude JUST SAID Chooch got the last one. Henry, you’re an embarrassment. 

2:50: Worst warped tour of my life. Not your fault, Warped Tour. 

3:59: Almost left but stayed and Emarosa made everything better. I have a heart again, apparently! Bradley got us side-stage and I could have just passed out from the sheer joy of it all. I love that band so much you have no idea or maybe you do who knows. 

5:42: I think we’ve made it THREE HOURS without me flipping out and projecting! Things are looking up. *eyeroll emoji factory* I’m glad that Henry didn’t let me leave the 87 times I said I was going to. Emotions man, amirite. You should have seen my hissy fit at the front of the stage while Hail the Sun was playing. Am I 36? Nah. Guess not. 

In other news I’m staying hydrated. I think Henry and Chooch are too? I’m not responsible for them. 

5:52: Oh look who’s back. 

6:42: OH SHIT I never did get any coffee today after the McCafe blunder. FEELING IT. 

Shoes don’t tie themselves at Warped Tour. 

8:15: Leaving Warped Tour. Mixed feelings. I usually feel so at peace here but today all of my problems kept weasling their way in and I feel so stressed. Aside from that bullshit, I saw so many great bands, Emarosa put some sutures in my heart, and Chooch and I had a lot of fun (once we stopped fighting, which was only the first 1/3 of the day so we’re getting better!). I’m really glad that Henry wouldn’t leave when I wanted to. Now it’s time for FOOD. 

8:54: post-Warped coleslaw and coffee, BLESS YOU, KINGS. 

Choochs annual “I just spent all day surrounded by PETA propaganda” post-Warped Tour stint at vegetarianism: a veggie burger which he is struggling to get through. 

10:13: WELL BLOG I’m home now. My brain is swollen right now I think? So goodnight. 

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Jul 142016


Drew and Penelope were like “bitch you better post some pictures of us on the blog because we’re cute and maybe someone has had a bad day and needs some cat pics in front of their face, you never know.”




The most beautiful cat in the world

A video posted by Riley (@butt_jam) on

Warped Tour live blog tomorrow, maybe?

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Jul 132016


John Carpenter played at the Carnegie Music Hall on Sunday and I was so happy to be there. I bought my solo ticket a few months ago and I was legitimately looking forward to going alone, sitting alone, and not talking to anyone.


In case you don’t know, John Carpenter is basically a god. Not only did he direct my favorite horror movie of all time—“Halloween”—but he also composed its theme. Going to horror conventions isn’t my cup of succulents, so when there was a chance to see him in this kind of setting, I was all for that.

Chooch and I fought the entire way there over whose phone needed charged more and I think Henry wanted to just push and roll me out of the moving car by the time we got to Homestead. I made him drop  me off a little bit down the street so people wouldn’t think my DADDY and BROTHER had driven me there. Big Trouble in Little Chevy Cruze.

Once all the ladies at the door finished gushing over my raygun purse (I HAVE AWESOME PURSES, it’s the only interesting thing about me) I went to the makeshift bar area, made no eye contact with anyone, bought my traditional sippy cup of wine, stood in the slow-as-fuck merch line for a poster, and then found my seat in my favorite spot: balcony right, second row near the end. The view is perf.

I was familiar with most of the movie themes played that night, but JC and his band also performed some tracks from his non-movie albums as well, and I was into it. Those tracks were just as dark and sleazy, like cruising in Christine through the fog to the porn shop after doing a fuck-ton of cocaine and stabbing your dealer in the throat, and now your heart’s EKG is tracing geometric Trapper Keeper designs because coke and murder.


There was no opening band, but I think the dream line-up would have been Goblin, Angelo Badalamenti, and John Carpenter. RIGHT!?

Every so often, John would fork his fingers and make the “I’m watching you” to some random blob in the audience and I SHIT YOU NOT he did it to me, I don’t give a fuck what that mousey bitch in front of me thought. He looked right over her dumb face and jutted his fingers at ME and I was all, “I SEE YOU TOO, JOHN CARPENTER!!!!”

I tried to share this memory with Henry when I got home that night but he just rolled his eyes, probably because he was jealous. He knows how much I love old guys.


YOU GUYS, JOHN CARPENTER. #LEGEND #halloween #michaelmyers

A video posted by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin) on

I’m not even going to pretend to be anyone but That Guy who was there primarily for dem Michael Myers vibes tho. And when that jam was finally plucked away on the keyboard by the very tips of John Carpenter’s finger tips, I felt seized by extreme adoration and amazement.

The night was loaded with moody, synth-driven 80s instrumental rock that gave me chills even though it was 99 degrees in that theater. I half expected to go home to my art-deco house—you know, the one with random glass block windows and pastel abstract art prints—and finding a black-gloved killer waiting to spring out from my closet and stab me to death on my waterbed, getting blood spatter all over my rad shoulder-padded blazer.

What a dream. John Carpenter, you and your band are too fucking cool for slasher school.

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Jul 122016

The first concert I ever went to was Bon Jovi in 1993 when I was 13. I wasn’t a Bon Jovi fan at all, but my Aunt Sharon was and she begged me to go with her. I remember being so annoyed about the whole thing, but this was also right around the time “Bed of Roses” came out so secretly, I was kind of excited that I would probably get to hear that MONSTER BALLAD, lol.

I barely remember anything about it other than the weather was bad (it was February) and Sharon almost considered getting a hotel in town that night so we wouldn’t have to drive home in the snow. I also remember it being so dark and overwhelming in the Civic Arena, and teasing Sharon about having a crush on the creepy man in the long black leather jacket standing near us.

I remember that the Jeff Healey Band opened and Sharon telling me the singer was blind.

I remember being secretly pleased that Bon Jovi played “Bed of Roses.”  (DON’T JUDGE ME.)

I also remember how fucking happy Sharon was to be there.


Sharon passed away Monday afternoon. It wasn’t sudden, but that doesn’t make her death any easier. “Easy” and “death” just don’t ever make sense together, no matter what. But, for me anyway, there is a sense of relief. It’s been a roller coaster since March 30th. I’ll spare the details, but we went from being hopeful to hopeless, rewinding and replaying the same tape, until a few weeks ago when a doctor was basically like, “Look, she’s not going to bounce back from this, probably.”

We all convened at the house last night. I gravitated toward Sharon’s room and just kind of stood there helplessly, and that’s when I saw the basket of clothes in a corner, hidden behind a chair full of creepy old dolls. No wonder I never noticed the basket past the porcelain horror-army!

In this basket, I found her signature Bon Jovi shirt and pile of stonewashed denim: some overalls, some with suspenders, one with a pair of giant red lips, but all stonewashed. When I picture the best version of my Aunt Sharon, it’s the 80s, her hair is frosted and teased, and she’s wearing this goddamn Bon Jovi tour shirt with stonewashed jeans. That’s the Aunt Sharon I want to remember, the one I’m mourning. The one who showed me the world, and the one who took me to my first concert. The one in the stonewashed jeans, with the frosted hair.




Posing for the millionth picture of the day — you guys think I’m snap-happy? I learned it by watching my grandma!



When Henry and I got in the car to come home last night, “Wanted Dead or Alive” was playing on the radio. Universe, you are weird and wonderful.

With that old, yellowed Bon Jovi shirt in my lap, I started to cry. I hear you, Sharon. </3


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Jul 112016

When I walked into Rivertowne after work last Tuesday, I had all kinds of responses ready for the first person who asked me why I was wearing a bologna sandwich on my face.

  • This is what happens when you forget to pay your PETA dues?
  • I fucked Oscar Meyer and all I got was this greasy facial?
  • This is just the natural, sebaceous sheen my flesh takes on when speed-walking through 1000% humidity in July.

“Why didn’t you just take the T here?” Brian asked, with Kara seconding this inquiry.


Also, my hair looked like I tried to curl a bale of hay.

I loathe going anywhere straight from work. I especially dislike not seeing Henry right after work because I am obviously very attached to him and need him to baby me for at least the first hour after I get home. It was also a weird day at work for me so I was just feeling kind of stressed and not myself, although “myself” is feeling stressed 100% of the time.

But then I started drinking that pineapple beer stuff and while my pores were still clogged with deli semen, my blood pressure was at least coming down. Brian’s friend Robin arrived a bit later and usually it takes me a while to warm up to someone new but she was so awesome and actually was interested in hearing about Bled Fest, so I put her in the “Keep” column.

After having a quick dinner and exchanging show stories, we walked across the street to Stage AE for the Modest Mouse/Brand New show. This show sold out stupid-fast and I was glad that I bought an impulse ticket during the pre-sale.

Kara forced me to get another beer because she’s the worst, and then Brian led us to the Dad Wall;  considering this wasn’t a show I needed to be close for, it was just as good a spot as any. I NEEDED MY SPACE ANYWAY.

Dopey face forever. 

Modest Mouse was the co-headliner, and they started promptly at 7:15.

I’m not much of a Modest Mouse fan. I used to casually listen to them in the early 00s but I don’t think I own more than 2 of their albums, really. However, I was OK during their set—the only times I gave up and started texting Henry or playing Tapped Out* was on the songs that had banjo. I have this deep-rooted, inexplicably hatred for banjos. I just can’t with the banjo. Sorry, Modest Mouse. SORRY MUMFORD & SONS.

Lol, I’m not sorry at all, Mumford and Sons! You guys suck!

*(J/K, I really did mostly pay attention except for when it felt like my eyes were floating in their sockets because I’m not an alcoholic and three beers for me is 2.5 more than I can handle typically.)

Waiting patiently for Brand New; drank too much.

A video posted by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin) on


A video posted by Erin (@ohhonestlyconcerts) on

Kara hated everyone around us, and it just so happened that everyone she hated were all there together so it made sense that they were all hated equally. Douches run in packs, you know?

“HEY FRIENDS, I KNOW ALL THE WORDS!” Kara mocked the guy in the green shirt, who literally never stopped pantomiming and throwing his arms around his friends.  I must have had just the amount of beer in my system because he was more amusing to me than anything. Would I have preferred to be at a small show with a younger crowd? Oh fuck yeah—but this was tolerable for me.

Which right away should tell you that something is going on with me. Not getting unreasonably hateful of everyone around me at a concert? WHO AM I?

My brother Corey was happy for all this to happen because it was the one thing that finally got me to not only use Snapchat, but create a Snapchat story.

(Sorry, I still don’t think SnapChat is for me! But I love watching Sherri Dupree Bemis’s stories.)

No. I take that back. These two were definitely pushing me to my limit. Apparently though, these two cousins ramming their tongues into each other was way more tame compared to the couple Brian saw who were finger-banging on the other side of the lawn.


And then Brand New started and if it wasn’t already evident that 75% of the crowd was there primarily for Brand New, it definitely was then. Brian sulked about this, but he stayed true to his word that he was going to stick around for at least 5 songs and try to like Brand New.

Brian, trying to understand the appeal. Our musical interests are not relevant to each other.

OK, look. Real talk. I’m a fucking sappy, sentimental motherfucker, we all know this. And I think that the reason I felt so strange and unlike myself is because in the back of my mind, I kept dwelling on the stupid past because otherwise I’d probably have to hand over my emo badge, right? But the last time I saw Brand New was in 2009 and it was an emotional disaster. Without getting into it, because I’ve never written about it, it involved: an over night trip to Cleveland, Christina, massive public displays of TEARS, blood red anger, and essentially the end of an era.

I purposely avoided Brand New after that because my saltiness tends to linger.

But when this show was announced, I didn’t even think about it — I just bought a ticket and figured enough time had passed. And I think for the most part, it was fine — they sounded great! They played most of my faves! I was with good people! Just, there was that weird feeling that I kept trying to flick away; being half-drunk helped, but by the next morning, all my emotions came out and I was back to my spirited Key of Kerrigan “WHYYYYSSS.”

So now the question is: do I attempt it again when they play at Riot Fest, or do I skip them and save myself (and Henry) the drama.

I mean, we all know the answer, but please scroll your eyes back up to the top of this maudlin diary entry and see the part about IDIOTS DOING THE OPPOSITE OF WHATEVER IS EASIEST.

Le sigh.

Opened some old wounds tonight. 💔

A video posted by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin) on

And in case you’re wondering: no, Brian did not make it to the end of the show, but I really applaud his efforts! He made it through at least 5-6 songs and said he didn’t hate! But he was sad that the crowd wasn’t more into Modest Mouse, and I relate to that sadness. I think this co-headlining thing was a weird match-up though.

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Jul 092016

We’ve been working on the outside of Gillcrest lately since we’ve reached a point with the interior where actual handymen will need to be hired. There is a ton of overgrowth happening in the backyard plus some felled trees, so today Henry bought a CHAINSAW.

I know what you’re thinking: what kind of man doesn’t already own a chainsaw? Aren’t they like born with one?

I don’t know why I was so excited about this. I knew the moment that Henry fired it up, I would probably pee my pants because HAUNTED HOUSE TRAUMA.

Still, I begged him to let me pick out the chainsaw, but he shouldered me out of the way (!!!!!!) and gruffly said something about “MAN PICK CHAINSAW. YOU NOT MAN.” Then he proceeded to put on this huge show of browsing the chainsaw showcase when we all knew he was just going to buy the cheapest one there.

C’mon now, Henry.

My favorite part was after he determined which was the cheapest, he asked the Home Depot guy, “BLAH BLAH BLAH?”

And the Home Depot guy was all, “BLAH BLAH BLAH.”

And then there was a MYSTERIOUS CAN HAND-OFF.

Followed by more BLAHs and another hand-off of A THING OF STUFF.

You guys missed so much. I’ll  bring the camera crew next time.

Back at Gillcrest, no one was there yet and I was like, “Do I really want to be alone here with a chainsaw-wielding Henry?” But then my mom and Corey were there and I realized it wouldn’t have mattered much because it took Henry FORTY-FIVE MINUTES to get the chainsaw started.


I helped by throwing crab apples at him while Corey meandered about the backyard, taking pictures of trees.

Us Kellys are notorious for our yardwork ethics.

Dick with a chainsaw. It took him 45 minutes to get it started. I helped by throwing crab apples at him.

A video posted by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin) on

Henry was really starting to get extremely pissed off, so I wasn’t exactly sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing when he finally got it started. I’m not sure what the issue was other than Henry just not being masculine enough? The guys at the haunted houses never seem to have a problem getting it started.

Just sayin’.

(Please enjoy Corey’s and my obnoxious gang-laughter in the above video. It really helps Henry deal with stressful situations.)

After about 20 minutes of chainsaw’ing, I noticed Henry milling about quietly so I went over to berate him for being a slacker. He held up his finger to show me that he had WOUNDED HIMSELF ON THE CHAINSAW!!!

“OMG DID YOU CHAINSAW YOURSELF?!?!?!” I screamed, myself for impending faints.

“No, I burnt myself on it,” he said quietly, probably trying to hold back tears while praying that he his penis would eventually come back to him after being engulfed by the cavernous VAGINA that had opened up in its place. God Henry, you’d never know you used to be in THE SERVICE!

“Oh,” I said, disappointed that his injury wasn’t more manly and valiant. So I went back to sitting in the grass

Apparently the reason he burned himself was because the chain was too loose and in his attempt to tighten it, he touched some silver part whatever that means. Once he stopped crying about it, he picked up the manual and sat down for some summer reading.

Then my mom came back with PIZZA which was great because Corey and I had been working very hard, dragging chopped down branches into the woods. My mom said she did a spit-take when she saw me in the yard, working.

I have callouses now, maybe.

Our new tradition is eating pizza in the formal dining room that I don’t think my grandparents ever used after the year 1983, while blasting the soft rock station over the kitchen speakers. Usually, there is at least one Phil Collins/Genesis jam that plays, but today we were treated to BROKEN WINGS by MR MISTER.


A video posted by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin) on

My mom didn’t understand what was going on and thought that I was filming the pizza because the song goes with pizza (“That song goes with pizza??” she’s incredulously asking in the background of the video) but it’s really just because I needed to focus on something while capturing some glorious notes of Broken Wings, you know? And why not pizza?!

After pizza, Henry casually announced that someone was there, and we all fucking lost our shit because it’s been HAUTE TENSION since March 30th, OK? Turns out my mom had recently renewed the insurance on the house and it was just some dude from the insurance agency who was there to take photos for the file or something, I don’t know, I wasn’t the one talking to him.

And now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go and put that Mr. Mister record on right now. KBYE.



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