Apr 242015

Bullet points, my favorite blogging cop-out! This will be especially beneficial to me since HENRY has been going to bed early all week and I haven’t had anyone to talk to at night! Lots to get off my chest. *(I started writing this on Thursday and now it’s Friday…so Thriday.)

  • I’m currently extremely stressed out about hockey. If the Penguins lose tonight in New York, they’re done, you guys. Hockey heartbreak, every goddamn spring. (Game started. We’re losing.)
  • Maternity Leave Amber had her baby on Monday! Super stoked for her, and even more stoked for her to come back to work. That’s soon, right? Like, yesterday? :(
    • In other work news, Barb’s replacement started on Monday. I’m too sad/mad/numb to write anything more about that.
      • Except that I mentioned to Nate that she reminded me of Henry’s ex-wife. Nate said, “What if it is her?! Hashtag awkward.” I said, “Then one of us would probably be dead,” and Nate said somberly, “Hashtag dead.” That was a real, verbatim conversation that I might need to remember one day. You’re welcome, Future Erin.
  • I don’t think I’ve been on this level of excitement for Warped Tour since maybe 2008 or 2009. I seriously think about it everyday and my special editionChoonimals 3D ticket came last week so now I’m really jumping around the house like a freak. I was making Henry watch Warped Tour survival videos on YouTube Wednesday night and he was like “And you wonder why I want to go to bed at 7:30 every night.”
    • I want Henry to make his own Warped Tour survival video now!! And then he can link to his OOTD (Barb, that means “outfit of the day”) video at the end.

  • Rude things Henry has said to me this week:
    • I’m cheap and easy
    • I’m a toaster-operating moron (SORRY IF I DIDN’T KNOW THERE IS A TIME LIMIT FOR POP-TARTS?!)
    • I sound like a clown when I sneeze (actually a compliment, so fuck you, Henry)
    • I’m stuck-up
  • Speaking of being stuck-up, yesterday my new workBFF Allison told me that shewas scared of me on her first day and that she thought I was goingto be “the mean one” of the group because she sat across from me in a meeting and I looked mad. “Oh, I always look like that in those meetings!” I laughed. And then I added, “How could you think I was mean when I have so much awesome stuff on my desk? Like zombie stuff and….” “Yeah, that didn’t do much to help,” Allison laughed.
    • This made me think of a few weeks ago when Amber the Original AG1 told me that when she first started working at The Law Firm in 2011, I was only working late shift then so she never actually saw me, but one time she had to walk past my desk. And based on that, she had this impression that I was a really scary goth person. One time she was working late shift too, and one of the analysts (Tyler; he left in 2012 and we all still miss him so much!) came back to his office near Amber’s desk and mentioned off-handedly that he was over on the other side, talking to me, and Amber was like, “EW WHY!?” But then she finally met me and realized that I am an adorable sweetheart baby doll thing. I love this story!
  • I’m still on a heavy Pvris kick. Lynn makes the hairs stand up on my arms like whoa.

  • My expression upon finding out that Henry has never heard Cutting Crew’s “Been In Love Before” was the same as when I found out he voted forDubya.
    • Shock and disgust. On my face.
  • Me: “Marcy taught me about unconditional love.” Henry: Well, you didn’t learn much.”
  • Guys, remember when Henry pitched a fit because I didn’t turn off the lights and TV and lock the door last week? PROOF THAT I LISTENED:

Corey’s comment about my lock-turning seeming rusty is spot-on, you guys. Also, I was bragging about some person commenting that I’m “seriously the best” and “so funny and pretty,” and Henry was like, “Yeah. I saw that. That kid is like 7.” But still. It’s a step-up from my imaginary friend saying it. Kind of.

  • Last Friday, Sandy arranged a late shift happy hour. It was the first happy hour I was able to make it to in A LONG TIME and it was really great. Even though Lou and Ethan were with us. But Lucas was there too and that was only the second time I’ve hung out with him outside of work in 5 years. (The first was last September when we were volunteer mulchers. That was pretty terrible.) The reason I’m mentioning this is because I realized that in the last almost-year that I’ve been in my current position, I actually feel like I’m part of the department again, and even though I might still have “bad” days here and there (who doesn’t?), I really am so much happier now. I can’t really write too much on here about thedarkside of my job because let’s be a Smart Blogger, right? But I just feel a lot more appreciated now and it’s nice to hear a “thank you for your help today” every now and again, you know?
    • And also because Ethan was whining about wanting a corned beef sandwich (we were at Sammy’s and theirs’ are “famous”) but not unless someone else would get one too because he didn’t want to be the only person eating, but I was like, “Corned beef is a vegetarian’s nightmare” and Lou was like, “Corned beef is disgusting” and Sandy was too fixated on the popcorn situation. So finally, Lucas was like, “Fine. I’ll get one too” and then they got up to go to the corned beef counter together, like two girls who couldn’t go to the bathroom alone.

  • Henry finally got his hair cut so no more topknot.Whompwhomp.
    • In other top knot news, Henry flipped out because I wanted coffee but I refused to go into the coffee place we were near because I’m allergic to hipsters. (WHY DO THEY HAVE TO HAVE GOOD TASTE IN COFFEE?! I want them to just be satisfied with Starbucks or McCafe.) When Henry came back to the car, he shoved my iced coffee at me and said, “AND THE GUY HAD A TOP KNOT!” Oh Henry.
    • I accidentally (I’m 35 and still insist spelling this “accidently”) watched a recent Jonny Craig video on YouTube and stated cracking up because I forgot he too is going through a topknot phase.
      • As if Henry is actually “going through a topknot phase.” That knot was on top of his head for approx. 8 seconds last week.

  • Tuesday (4/21) was Robert Smith’s birthday! I always feel strange on this day because I’m like YAY ROBERT I LOVE YOU but also I can’t help but remember that it’s my quitiversary from that awful meat place I worked at for 4 years. Coincidentally, thelady I shared an office with (a/k/a my Original Work Mom, Carol) commented on this picture I posted of Robert on Facebook and said, “Still perfectly coiffed as always.” I drove her nuts with my constant Curefan-girling. I miss her. I should make her go to lunch with me soon.
    • I wore my Robert pendant to work and made sure to tell everyone it’s his birthday because this is important. When I toldA-ron, he said, “Oh, The Smiths, right?” totally on purpose and I shouted down the hall at him, “THAT’S OFFENSIVE!” Then I came back to my desk and told Glenn and Todd, who didn’t get it, so I scoffed, “Robert and Morrissey hate each other. Everyone knows that!”
      • GOD!!!
    • Then I was mad because the AltPress instagram posted a birthday picture of Robert and all these bratty kids hijacked the post, whining that it was some Black Veil Bride asshole’s birthday too, totally taking away from Robert, so then AP gave that d-bag his own birthday shoutout, like who cares about a BVB birthday!? Ugh. THAT’S OFFENSIVE.
  • The most exciting thing that happened today was when I was pulling folders out of a filing cabinet and got  A REALLY BAD PAPER CUT. It was basically the HNNGGGGGH  heard around the department. It was kind of embarrassing how many far away people stopped in their tracks and said, “Oh no, paper cut?” (OK, two people.) My first instinct was to cry, “AND I DON’T HAVE ANYMORECANDYLANDBANDAIDS!” which made Todd lose it. Glenn was like, “Oh for Christ’s sake” and got me a boring, old person bandage out of his dumb drawer. He even opened it for me! “We’re going to hear about this all day,” he muttered after I snatched it from him.
    • When Gayle got to work, I stopped her and cried, “I GOT A PAPER CUT TODAY,GAAAAAAYLE” and then we were all talking about how shocked we were that Glenn cared enough to give me a bandage but he said, “You didn’t see the Bio-Hazard sticker on it?” Ugh.
        • Then I washed my hands and it started to fall off, so I used some leftover Jesus stickers from last year’s Easter Glenn Hunt to hold it together:

        • Fuck this week.
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Apr 232015

I came home from work and started going through old pictures to re-edit, because it has been A Week, and playing with photos calms my nerves almost as much as wine. Obviously, I’ve been going through Chooch pictures because it’s his birthday on Saturday and I get so fucking weepy and nostalgic every year around this time. He’s almost old enough to be a latchkey kid! SOON HE WILL BE A TEENAGER AND THAT WILL MEAN I’M OLD TOO.

Haha, no it won’t. Peter Pan Syndrome 4 lyfe.

I don’t know. Enjoy some random photos of my kid.

Allegheny-Cemetery_ 065edit


2008 – I WONDER IF BLAKE STILL HAS THAT SHIRT. God, we used to drive Henry nuts with our constant need to listen to DGD in the car. I guess not much has changed, at least on my end.

Apr 15 2012 080edit



2006 – Cemeteries have always been his playground.

Sep 18 2011 045edit



2012 again.


Bonus: When Henry exhibited lightning-quick reflexes to catch Chooch before he pancaked across the ground, circa 2007.

Ugh, I can’t wait for the weeeeeeeekend.

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Apr 222015

A few weeks ago, Janna sent this devastating message to my cellular phone. Naturally, I sent it to Corey and then also posted it on Instagram with the hashtags #JannaWhite #Heisenjanna #JannaMakesMeth and Corey immediately piggybacked with #JannasDoubleLife #JannaPaystheToll and #LockYourMedicineCabinets

I was laughing so hard about this that I started to see sparks in my vision. Henry of course was scowling because he just doesn’t understand. It’s the generation gap, I think. Probably.

A couple nights later, Janna and Corey came over because we were going to attend a Tenebrae service at my old friend Brian’s church. Brian is actually the music director at the church. I haven’t seen him in years (he lived in Nebraska for awhile) and I’ve always wanted to attend a Tenebrae service, so this seemed perfect. Janna agreed to go even though she was sick, and she showed up at my house with an entire box of Kleenex in tow. And then Corey said he wanted to go too, because Church on a Saturday night?!?! Yes, please!

I tweeted something about this and Barb immediately said something along the lines of how we better behave, which made me crack up, because what a horrible idea, Corey and I going to church together.

On the way to the church, Janna told us the Robitussin story. In a nutshell, she tried to go through the self check-out line and it wouldn’t work so a clerk had to come over type in codes and then that still didn’t work, so then they made her go to a regular checkout line, at which point she was asked for her ID and she didn’t have it on her.

“I kind of threw a fit and just slammed the bottle down into the candy bars and left,” she said, and Corey and I were crying over this image of Janna hulking out over needing ID to buy cough syrup. Then apparently she went to the bathroom and when she came out of the stall, the manager was waiting for and accused her of stealing the Robitussin and taking it into the bathroom to slurp it in privacy, so then she had to take the manager over to the checkout line and prove that she left it there.

The whole point here is that Janna was sick as fuck and had a coughing fit during the Tenebrae service and had to excuse herself, which made Corey and I start cracking up in God’s House. It was even worse when she left, because she had been separating us, so now we were able to see each other laughing, and that just made it worse and oh god, my kidneys. I had to turn to the side and cover my face with my hair so that I wouldn’t see Corey in my periphery and that hopefully none of the somber church-goers would notice that I was red-faced and crying in the back pew. (Yes, we were smart enough to sit in the back pew.)

Meanwhile, some old man in front of me had pulled out his phone and was blatantly recording the service and kept slowly panning from left to right, so I was like, “Well, if this dildo is going to be so obvious, then I’m at the very least going to grab a quick Instavid.”

So I did, but then it started PLAYING BACK AT FULL VOLUME. I was like “Abort! Abort!” and ended up accidentally deleting the video in the end, but at least no one seemed to notice what was happening because the singing was so loud.

Janna eventually came back and Corey and I were bracing ourselves for another laughing fit, which started as soon as we heard rummaging in her pocket for a cough drop, followed by the rustling of the wrapper as she opened it.

Maybe I should quickly inform you what a tenebrae service is. It’s like a Roman Catholic church thing that happens around Easter. It’s supposed to start out with all these candles lit, right? And then as the service goes on, the candles are extinguished one by one until the church is all dark by the end, and then there is supposed to be a loud bang, signifying the earthquake that followed Jesus’s death, and then everyone is supposed to leave in silence.

These things did not happen. Some candles were snuffed out, that part is true. But the overhead lights stayed on the whole time and there was no apocalyptic bang at the end! I was pretty bummed about that, because in my mind, this thing was billed as a Scary Church Event.


Actually, now that I’m looking at the poster, it says nothing at all about tenebrae. I KNOW THAT THE FACEBOOK EVENT DID THOUGH.

Luckily, the music and the singing were actually really sad and beautiful (Song of the Shadows, y’all), which obviously is my favorite kind. One of the soloists is an attorney-by-day, and Corey and I were obsessed with her. She was also in the Miss America pageant once! Maybe I’m making that up! I can’t remember! Where’s my program when I need it?!


I paid real money to light a candle! I didn’t cheat the church! #newleaf #Ijustlikefire

We were going to just leave after the bang-less ending, especially since Janna was feenin’ for her ‘tussin, but then Brian grabbed the mic to thank everyone for something and urged everyone to stick around for the reception. And then he said the magic words:

Sugary treats.

Corey and I exchanged looks of exaggerated merriment. “Sugary treats!” we mouthed to each other around Janna, who was looking like she might pass out at this point.

We followed those “in the know” out of the church and across the street into an adjacent building, where tables of sugary treats were set up in a small room. Right before we entered the room, Janna had a truncated coughing fit and some old man amiably commented that “uh oh, someone sounds sick!” I almost died. Janna was drawing attention from The Olds. Maybe they could have a cough drop exchange in the parking lot.

We were among the first to forage for sugary treats, THANK GOD.


It was difficult to be so close to the parishioners because I was giddy. The Laughter was threatening to eject from my mouth at any given moment, so I made sure to not make eye contact with anyone. I filled my places with the critically acclaimed sugary treats and hightailed it to the back of the room, where Corey and Janna joined me and we proceeded to stand in a suspicious circle, looking totally out of place, and giggling nervously. The unfortunate part of our location was that it was near the garbage can, so a steady stream of church-goers kept interrupting our heretic huddle in order to pitch their empty punch cups.

Finally, Janna had enough of this and brusquely picked up the trash can and then slammed it down a few feet away from us, so it was just chilling alone in the middle of the floor. Corey and I were like, “HOLY SHIT, JANNA IS SO VIOLENT WHEN SHE’S SICK!” She had this “Nothing is funny right now” look on her face, which just made us laugh even harder, and there is a thing that you should know about my brother: he has a REALLY LOUD LAUGH. The kind that ricochets off walls and bald heads and causes all eyes to fixate on us. It is simultaneously hilarious and embarrassing.


I think this was before Janna slammed the garbage can down.

Some old lady came over and asked, “IS THIS ON?!” because there was a coffee maker on the counter next to us. I was like, “Bitch who knows?” so she pushed a button and cold water squirted out, so she was like, “I guess not” and then walked away. Even this was hysterical to us. And then another old lady attempted to get water out of a water cooler but it was empty, so she shouted, “YOU’VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME THERE’S NO WATER” and then Janna pointed out that there were bottles of water on the counter, so the lady was like, “I’M TAKING ONE” and then stormed away. I think Corey wanted her to be his spirit animal. He was pretty entranced. Everything just seemed like a blatant parody that night, like all of these people were walking caricatures put in this room just to test our resistance to cracking up. Newsflash: our threshold is ridiculously low.

I wanted another peanut butter thing, but I was afraid to go back to the table because the room was way more crowded and everyone knew each other, which meant they knew that I didn’t belong. IT WAS SCARY.

After awhile, I decided that we looked too suspicious, so we went out into the hallway to wait for Brian, and this is where I honestly came very close to peeing my pants, so I cried out, “DON’T MAKE ME PEE I’M WEARING A SKIRT!” and possibly people heard this, but everything was So Funny!

“I feel like we’re a sleeper cell,” I blurted out, and Corey was like, WTF is that so I explained it to him and he was like, “WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT!?” I don’t know, actually. It seemed to make sense at the time because we moved in a tight huddle everywhere we went, like we didn’t want religion to penetrate us.

Corey kept hashtagging everything that was happening (there was even a #tenebraeslut!) and Janna was like “#canwegonow” but I wanted to say hello to Brian since he invited me there, after all. We ended up having to go back to the church to see him, because he had slipped out of the Sugary Treats Room to go back to his office. On the way there, Janna reminded us for the 87th time that she was really sick, so I told her she could just wait in the car as long as she didn’t spill her syrup everywhere. But she just sighed and trudged along after us. 

Brian gave really bad directions to me via Facebook messenger so we ended up in parts of the church that we probably shouldn’t have been. (Corey started to walk into a room right behind the altar and came backing out in a hurry, waving his arms in an “abort! abort!” motion. He said there were two men back there, reading the Bible.*)

*(Literally reading the Bible, you guys. This isn’t some weird Altar Boy euphemism.)

We eventually found him, and it turns out the problem is that I just didn’t understand “front of the church” versus “back of the church.” So we had a quick reunion with Brian, who pelted Janna with a handful of cough drops for the road, and then we left before the whole Church thing started to make us soft, like we’d start picturing Jesus frowning at us every time we started to laugh at Janna’s pratfalls. The whole night was almost funnier than the “Janna Stole Her Mom’s Car” incident.


Janna was like, “I NEED TO GO HOME AND DIE” — which obviously is drug addict speak for “I need to go sit on the bathroom floor and drink my Slizzurp” — so she left as soon as we got back to my house. But Corey stayed for awhile and we giddily filled Henry in on the evening’s events, and he laughed at exactly zero parts. Then Corey drew a picture of Janna drinking Robitussin and we were both crying while Henry shook his head disapprovingly and Chooch drank in the bad influence filling the air around him.




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Apr 212015

Ugh, Chooch is going to be nine on Saturday. How does time go by so fast? I hate it! We’re not doing a big party this year. He wanted to have a small party at the laser tag place for his friends, and then we’re having some people over on Saturday for cake. Nice and simple, which will be a nice reprieve for my bulging nerves.

I don’t know what dumb Henry is getting him, but I bought him a ticket to the Sleeping With Sirens acoustic show in June, because The Summer Set is opening and they’re one of his favorite bands. I’m pretty meh about both bands, but I took one for the team and made sure I was on the SWS website at the exact moment tickets went on sale. It did eventually sell out too, and it’s at one of the smaller venues in Pittsburgh, so I really anticipate a night in a small room with hundreds of screaming teenage girls!

But, it’s worth it. Especially when he found out I bought tickets and then proceeded to scream like one of the aforementioned teenage girls.


(From last summer’s Warped Tour.)

I ordered his birthday cake last night (oh boy, it’s a good one) and wanted to order one for my C-section incision too (9 years of phantom pains!) but I took Henry’s frown as a no.

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Apr 192015

I haven’t done a Frown of the Day in forever, so I thought I’d start a new series.    

The “There’s Some Jackass Behind Me On the Trolley” selfie. 


The “He’s Still There” selfie. 


The “Henry’s Not Back There Because We Beat Him Home But We Don’t Have a House Key So Now We’re Waiting For Him In the Wind” selfie. 


The “Henry’s Getting Gas So We Can Get Ice Cream” selfie. 


The “Goldilocks Is Having Ice Cream Ordering Remorse, Much To Henry’s Delight” selfie. (srsly, that did NOT taste like red velvet soft serve & the lady at Sugar & Spice swore that it was too melty to put my beloved crunchies on it, WHICH WAS THE WHOLE REASON I CHOSE SOFT SERVE OVER HARD ICE CREAM IN THE FIRST PLACE!)


The “Henry Sounds Like He’s Having Oral Sex Every Time He Eats Oranges & He Knows It Annoys Me So Now He Exaggerates It” selfie.

GUYS I HAVE TO GO. Mr. Mister’s “Broken Wings” just came on my bedroom radio and I have to go slow dance with myself. 

(That is not an euphemism.)

EDIT: And then Whitesnake’s “Is This Love” right after?! Wow, what a fucking treat from the local variety radio station. 

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Apr 192015

Clearly, Dance Gavin Dance is one of my favorite bands in the whole entire world, so when they offered an extremely limited edition mega-bundle pre-order that included hand-written lyrics, my brain was like DO NOT EVEN LOOK AT THE PRICE JUST FUCKING PURCHASE! So I did and Henry was like, “That’s fine. I didn’t need to buy groceries this week.” Except that he kept those surly sentiments in his head because he knows better than to get lippy with me when it comes to band stuff.

I got my pre-order in the mail last week, and a day later, the lyrics were sent directly from Tilian Pearson! (I was very happy with the song that was chosen for me, too! Although, I would have been happy with any of them, to be honest, because this new album is perfection.) I couldn’t wait to go out and buy a frame for the lyrics, but then I was like, “HENRY CAN YOU MAKE ME A MAT OUT OF THE INSTANT GRATIFICATION ALBUM ART?!” and he did it because he is the fucking best in the whole entire world and I love him.

(I only love him when he’s doing shit for me, FYI. I haven’t turned soft on you.)


And now it’s on the wall, right next to the DGD painting I made back in 2008 out of the DGD t-shirt that Christina bought for me that fit too awkwardly.

I’m so happy right now. It’s the little things, guys.

And a big shout out to Mattias Adolfsson, the phenomenal artist who designed most of the DGD’s album covers. I am infatuated with him.


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Apr 182015


I was trying to call my dad, Henry on a payphone but I didn’t have change. Some girl behind us laughed and It was weird. Oh, and I was singing Payphone by: Maroon 5. Mommy said I was a mess and dirty so mommy kept yelling at me. Also before we went on the T a bee flew past my face and I got scared it was going to sting me like another dickhead bee did when I was walking home from school with my mom. And I went to Sunoco with Mark and his mom. Sunoco never had a Shake and Smoothie machine so I got a smoothie. It was a really good Strawberry Banana Smoothie. It was $3.05 and Daddy only gave me $2.21 for Sunoco. So Mark’s mom had to pay for the rest. When I got home, I told mommy that I didn’t have enough money for the smoothie so Mark’s mom had to pay the rest. Mommy gave me $2.00 to give to Mark’s mom. Because she didn’t want her to thing we are mooches. And on the T there was a little girl who couldn’t wait to sit next to me she was looking at my phone, too.


It was the Anime Convention in Pittsburgh, PA and Daddy probably had a CRUSHY on this girl in a PRETTY dress, O.O!  I was sort of bored and my legs were tired I felt like I  was going to collapse. When ever I walk for a long time my legs start to wobble.


Daddy is a misbehaved, and idiotic Dad. He goes to Ice Cream places and beer stores because he likes beer. I really don’t know what else to say about him  that’s really it.

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Apr 162015

It’s Thursday. Let’s have words.

  • It’s Food Drive season as work and the person in charge for our department is kind of mean about it and her emails lack the proper amount of enthusiastic punctuation so I have not felt inclined to donate any dusty cans of stewed tomatoes that might have fallen behind the kitchen shelf. (I save those for Warped Tour so I can skip the line!) But then Sue sent out an email today that said anyone who brings in a jar of peanut butter tomorrow can wear jeans, so I will be doing that. Actually, I asked Glenn as he was leaving if he would bring in one for me but he just tossed me a scowl over his shoulder, so I feel like I shouldn’t put too much stock in him.
    • There is also a bake sale happening in order to raise money for the Food Bank, which would be awesome if I wasn’t forever on a diet.
  • Tonight is Game 1 of the Pens/Rangers playoff series and I am not anticipating it one bit. We barely even made it into the playoffs this year so my hopes are not very high. Actually, my hopes don’t even exist.
    • Someone brought in a pan of brownies for the food drive bake sale and my hockey anxiety has me considering bringing the whole fucking pan back to my desk.
  • YOU GUYS yesterday after Henry picked me up from work, I swear to God I saw Paul Eugene walking down the sidewalk!! Henry was like, “That is not him” and I said, “SCREAM PAUL EUGENE OUT THE WINDOW!!!” but Henry wouldn’t so I guess now we’ll never know.
  • There’s some article going around on Facebook about how Brookline is “suddenly hip” and I’m a bit irritated that no one thought to consult me for this newsworthy write-up.
    • And then that same day, there was a stand-off in Brookline, so….
    • Also, I find it concerning that there was no mention of all the hip drunks around town.
  • My Dance Gavin Dance pre-order finally was delivered yesterday! I was frantically tracking it all morning and when I saw that it had been delivered at 10:33am, this went down:

OK so yay! Henry left work to get my package off the front porch, but then he just LEFT IT IN THE HOUSE!? Like, he couldn’t have brought it downtown for me!? So then I texted him later in the afternoon because I wanted to remind him to bring the CD with him when he came to pick me up so that I could listen to it in the car, but he said he wasn’t going home firat first!?

THE WORST!!!!!! Then last night, Henry saw that I posted these screencaps on Instagram and he claims that “No problem” was something he had sent to me earlier in the morning about something else, but “for some reason” it resent it after my crazy text torrent. I’m actually inclined to believe him because when I first got that text, I thought to myself, “Wow. What an even-keeled response to my CAPSLOCK jamboree.”


Me, after coming home from work and tearing open the package. 

  • In other DGD news, I’ve been talking about them so much that Todd felt inclined to listen to their new album yesterday on Spotify, He made it about 20 seconds into the first song before stopping to share his commentary: “It was real mellow at first, like some Adam Levine shit, but then all of a sudden it turned metal…?” And then later he asked, “Why are they so angry?!” And that’s funny, because to me this isn’t angry music at all!
  • Today, Glenn was like “Well? Where’s all your gear?” And I was like “My what now?” “Your gear. All the gear you got yesterday that we had to hear about all day.” LOL. “Gear.” Like anyone calls it that!!!
  • Here at work, when we’re not all gushing over the new DGD album, we’ve been on some hardcore Amber G. Baby Watch. I have been checking in with her every day and reporting back to everyone, but I’m trying not to be some crazy Birth Sentinel because I know that would annoy me if people were constantly texting me about my dilation status. It’s going to be so weird when she comes back to work and isn’t pregnant anymore, because I think we all had grown so accustomed to tip-toeing around her. (She could be pretty snarly in her pregnant state!)
    • Maybe tonight’s hockey game will induce labor.
  • A conversation that happened last night while watching Breaking Bad:

Me: “Can I give you a top knot?”
Henry: “What is a top knot….?”
Me: “Just say yes.”
Henry: “No.”
Me: *gives him top knot anyway*
Henry: “WHAT IS IT?! No!”

His new look was wildly celebrated on Facebook, but he shockingly did not wear it to work today.

  • Hay guys, the hockey game just started and the Rangers scored 20-some seconds in. MAYBE I’LL HAVE A BROWNIE AFTER ALL.
  • Amber, did you have your baby yet?
  • This might be the dumbest blog post title I’ve ever made up. I quit. 
  • Chooch has been on a Fall Out Boy kick recently (primarily their recent album) and I got to be That Person who bragged about seeing them in 2004, pre-commercial success, when all of my friends were like, “WHO are you going to see?!” (Oh wait, that’s present-day too!)
  • Today, I made the mistake of telling Glenn that my knee hurt. I tweaked it a few months ago when I was exercising and every now and then it starts hurting again. So glenn offered me “Advil” and I stupidly took it without checking to make sure it was legit and not something he cut in the woodshed/lab in his backyard. His fake drugs did not cure my knee but I think there was a connection between that and my extreme drowsiness all day. Luckily, my new BFF Allison gave me real, name brand Advil later on and then my knee felt OK. 
  • UM, so I have been home from late shift for like 2 hours and just noticed that there was an envelope addressed to me, casually strewn upon the dining room table. The return address was THE ARTERY FOUNDATION so I knew immediately that it was going to bey handwritten DGD lyrics and IT WAS so I flipped out on Henry and screamed HOW LONG WERE YOU GOING TO HIDE THIS FROM ME?! and he claims he “didn’t know” what it was?! I was like THE POSTMARK CLEARLY STATES THAT ITS FROM SACRAMENTO WHAT ELSE WOULD I POSSIBLY BE GETTING FROM SACRAMENTO?! My god Henry fails as a scene kid’s boyfriend. I guess now that he wears a topknot, he’s only interested in watching Coachella videos on YouTube. 


  • Amber, did you have the baby yet?


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Apr 152015

Hey friends! From now until the end of May, I’m donating 20% of my Somnambulant sales to Animal Friends in Pittsburgh! WHO DOESN’T LOVE ANIMALS?! Well, probably serial killers and ISIS. But mostly everyone else loves animals because animals are a billion times more awesome than people!

And don’t forget, Mother’s Day is coming up, and maybe your mom likes serial killers?

Serial Killer Parade painting Dahmer Gacy


Or maybe music is your Band-Aid and you want everyone to know?

Music Heals Mixtape Painting


 Got a thing for Twin Peaks?

Log Lady painting Twin Peaks caricature


Did you just have a baby, know someone who just had a baby, or are you just super into retro children’s TV shows?

Mister Rogers Neighborhood painting on wooden plaque


Anyway, there is a ton more over at Somnambulant, so go check it out and pass it on!

This concludes my half-assed commercial for my art-things. You’re dismissed.

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Apr 142015

Henry was sick or something last night and went to bed early, leaving Chooch and me to put ourselves to bed later on in the night. In the morning, I called Henry on my walk to the trolley and he said, “Oh, and just so you know, when I got up for work this morning, the lights were on, the TV was on, the window was open, and the front door was open. Not just unlocked, but OPEN. What the fuck, did you and Chooch decide it was ready for bed and just run away?”

I started doing that throaty laugh that I do when I’m guilty. I had a vague recollection of just not caring to turn everything off and shut the door, because who can be bothered with things like that. “Well, Chooch was the last one down there!” I cried in defense.

“Oh that’s great. Leave it up to the 8-year-old to lock up,” Henry sighed before asking me if I had left for work yet. “It sounds quiet out there. Usually there are all kinds of tragic things happening to you while you’re walking.” (YOU GUYS DON’T KNOW HOW TRAUMATIC IT IS TO WALK TO THE TROLLEY, OK?! THINGS HAPPEN TO ME.)

“Well, I did almost just get kidnapped,” I said.

“What? How?” Henry asked, not sounding concerned like I had hoped, but mostly just amused.

“A van just drove past me. You never know.”


After work, Henry was giving me dirty looks for simply taking a drink from a large bottle of water. Apparently, I “guzzle” it like I’m “in the desert” and this is “annoying.”

“What?!” I cried. “I bought this all on my own before I got on the trolley this morning,”  I added, trying to change the subject to one of my few accomplishments in life.

“Wow. That’s amazing. Maybe next you’ll learn how to shut the door and turn everything off before you go to bed,” Henry patronized.

God, when will he stop trying to change me!?


Henry just now lectured Chooch and I together on the “shutting down for bed” procedure and we are cracking the FUCK UP. 

“Yeah, you’ll be laughing when you come downstairs in the morning and a crackhead is sitting on the couch,” Henry yelled before telling Chooch to always make sure the door is locked and the lights are off, since Henry can’t rely on me I guess. 

Henry is like OBSESSED with “turning things off” and “locking the door.”

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Apr 132015

Can I just state for the record that I have amazing friends and family (I mean, the family I still associate with!)? When I asked a select few of them if they would come to a memorial dinner for Marcy, and would that be weird, they all said yes and no, in that order.

Lisa reminded me that anyone who knows me also knew Marcy, and it made sense that I would want to celebrate her life with my closest peeps. When I say that she touched a lot of lives, I am not joking. And that’s actually just a nicer way of saying she pierced a lot of flesh, anyway.

I knew right away that this had to happen at Blue Flame. I spent so much of my childhood there with my Pappap, had so many high school hangouts there with Lisa and our crew, and still gravitate toward it to this day when I need some comfort and a dose of familiarity.

But don’t get it twisted—this was no somber event! We laughed so much and told stories about Marcy, and this was really what I needed. I woke up on Saturday excited that I was going to see some of my favorite people later on, and that felt so much better than wallowing around in a quiet house. The bottom line is that I wanted to be around awesome people and celebrate Marcy’s legacy.

I made prayer cards to pass out and brought two framed photos of her to display on the tables. Judy of course knew the waitresses and owners of the Blue Flame, so after she got the obligatory hugs out of the way, she made sure to tell everyone that she was there for a cat’s memorial dinner. Even Wonka came, after the trauma Marcy put him through 15 years ago! (His note in the sympathy card he gave me started with “Though the world is now a safer place…”)

Barb at one point was talking about my favorite subject – me. I love listening to her go on and on about how amazing and incredible and perfect and goddess-like I am, how I should have won the Pulitzer by now and why haven’t I run for President yet and how come MTV hasn’t given me a show where I teach the world to be their best versions of Erin Rachelle Kelly; Lisa’s eyes were practically rolling out the door and across the parking lot.

“I am just fascinated by what goes on in Erin’s head!” Barb gushed, to which Lisa replied, “Let me explain it for you. Erin takes something thisbig and turns it into something THIS BIG,” Lisa frowned, making her fingers spread far away from the imaginary object she was holding. “Except the one thing she actually never exaggerated was her Marcy stories.” And Janna emphatically co-signed that sentiment from across the table.

Speaking of Janna! I got to tell the story about Janna getting in trouble for taking her mom’s car when we went to Nemacolin Castle last December, and Corey, who was sitting at another table, perked up and yelled, “Are you telling them about the silhouette?!” IT NEVER GETS OLD!

Barb and Kara were moderately chuckling at the story, Judy looked confused, and Lisa disappointingly sighed, “Poor Janna.” 

Meanwhile, Janna www mumbling about how it really wasn’t that funny and she wasn’t even “in trouble” with her mom like Corey and I keep insisting. We basically have Janna halfway to Flowers in the Attic. 

Judy told everyone the story about how whenever she would put her shoes on, Marcy would know that meant Judy was about to go outside, so she would race to the door and wait. They sat on the porch together every day last summer when she was here babysitting Chooch.

“I loved her, but I wouldn’t touch her. I never touched her ONCE,” Judy bragged. “She scared me too much.” She told us that one time when they were on the porch, Judy started to get up because she was ready to go in the house, and Marcy started swatting at her legs because she wasn’t ready yet. Marcy was like that.   

 Then I was pissed because Janna ordered stuffed French toast and I wished I had ordered it. Lisa was like, “JANNA DON’T YOU DARE GIVE HER YOUR FOOD!” Lisa is very much against people coddling me. I ended up getting raisin French toast, which is odd because I usually always get grilled cheese. I don’t know what I was thinking.

And then Barb purposely commented on my eyeball purse, which made Chooch whip around in his seat and glower at her.

“Why do you hate your mom’s purse so much, Chooch?” she asked him.

“Because! Every time we’re out, people are always like ‘Oh I love your purse’ and they pass me right up!” Chooch cried.

“Wow. Who does that remind me of?” Lisa deadpanned.

After dinner, everyone minus Barb and Lisa came back to my house for cake, wine, and hockey. Chooch and Harland drove Janna nuts with Minecraft questions, and maybe Wonka too but he was a better sport about it than Janna, who kept sighing angrily and stomping over to the computer to yell, “WHAT CHOOCH I DON’T KNOW!?” And then she had me and Corey laughing like hyenas on top of that, so it’s really a wonder she hangs out over here at all! We seriously talked about The Silhouette 87 times that night, to mixed reactions. Corey has also recently taken to sending me pictures of shadowy raised hands behind curtains, so god only knows what he’s googling to find those!

LEMON CAKE. It was OK. I wanted Henry to make this carrot cake that I found in a raw dessert cookbook online but apparently the ingredients were too “expensive.” OK, lazy ass.

Wonka’s girlfriend Jess said that my house was very stimulating and I was like, “Thank you for noticing!” There really is a lot to look at, which I think drives Henry nuts at times. And then Jess got pulled into a super intense “over-share” with Judy, where Henry overheard Judy mention something about a time she was engaged to some dude that Henry didn’t know about. Henry was like, “Well, I just learned something new about my mom.” Then I made her tell the Brick Alley story because that story rules.

We spent the rest of the evening hanging out, telling stories, looking through photo albums (it’s been a hot minute since Wonka and I used to hang out regularly, so that was a fun jog!), reminding Kara every 30 seconds of how adorable Theo is (and Harland!), and planning our next ridiculous trip to the Palace of Gold. It was just what I needed, even though I inadvertently drank too much wine and spent the early hours of Sunday full of regret. I like to imagine that Marcy was glaring down from wherever she is, pissed that so many people were in her house, but also kind of secretly enjoying it. Because for a cat who hated people, she sure was social.

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Apr 122015

Here are some pictures of things that happened today.

Apparently, I had just a smidge too much wine last night, because when I woke up this morning, I felt like I had spent the night at Burning Man, and not just hosting several friends for a Marcy memorial. Wine hangovers are my jam, if by that I mean that I just puked into a jar of Smuckers. Luckily, I recovered in time to be able to traipse around the cemetery with Henry while Chooch was at piano.


The cemetery in which the traipsing occurred.

Me: “Why do you need a stick?”

Henry: “In case I need to hit a hipster on a bike.”


Then we went to the mausoleum to pee and I wanted Henry to take fun and hilarious selfies with me but then I remembered that he’s against fun.

After Chooch’s piano lesson, we went to the playground in North Park, where Chooch managed to kick a soccer ball into his face, flip through the air, fall into a tree stump, and start bleeding all within 10 seconds. It was truly a sight to behold. Then he complained that he didn’t have anyone to play with and we were like THERE ARE NO LESS THAN 8 BOYS AROUND YOUR OWN AGE MILLING ABOUT AIMLESSLY JUST LIKE YOU’RE DOING, GO PICK ONE TO BE AWKWARD WITH.

Then after awhile I realized I hadn’t seen him for a good 10 minutes (there was some car race happening in the parking lot, and it was distracting me from being a parent).  “Where is our child?” I asked and Henry just shrugged. “I don’t know. Over in Pouter’s Field somewhere.” That’s when we found him sitting behind a tree like the Saddest Kid Ever, which was kind of apropos since it’s National Only Child Day (technically he’s not, but when your siblings are 14+ years older than you….).

And that is how Henry and I were guilted into kicking a soccer ball back and forth even though Henry has two broken Pallet Jack Feet and I was wearing TOMS. (Have you ever kicked a soccer ball while wearing TOMS? Feels fucking fantastic.)

Then we went to Kelley’s Dari Delite for ice cream and I changed my mind 18 times (seriously—hard ice cream or soft serve?! A milkshake or a sundae!?) but eventually opted for maple soft serve (maple is my everything) with crunchies and for once I felt pretty secure in my final decision.

Not actually whining.

And now I will leave you with my current favorite song from the new Dance Gavin Dance album, Instant Gratification, which comes out on Tuesday and you should go buy it. Borderline infatuated with it. OK fine, lose the “borderline.” I’m straight psycho for this record. I was trying to tell Henry earlier how perfect Tilian Pearson is for Dance Gavin Dance, and how it’s almost like Jonny Craig was never even in this band, but then I started to cry, because #emotions #posthardcoreprobs #scenekidsentiments

(That 2:07 mark, tho. Heart eyes for days.)

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Apr 102015

Grief is such a fucked up emotion. My first taste of it was when my Pappap died in 1996 and I honestly felt like there was an icy fist squeezing my heart—for months. It was this sickening, cold sensation inside my ribs, a constant reminder of loss. But even though I was grieving, and crying, and puking, and wallowing…I wanted to talk about it. I needed to, really. But my family isn’t like that. No one wanted to talk about it, but luckily I had friends…and the high school social worker.

It always made me wonder how I turned out differently. Talking about it has always been how I process, make sense, cope, and heal. I will talk about the same thing over and over until I’m blue in the face, and maybe it’s annoying for everyone else (i.e. Henry), but it helps me understand and heal so that I can go back to living my life.

On my 21st birthday, I went to visit my grandma. It had been 5 and a half years since my Pappap’s death at that point, and this particular birthday was difficult for me. I sat with my grandma on her bed and tried to talk about it. She shot me down immediately and became visibly upset at my audacity to speak of such verboten subjects. I explained that I really needed to talk about it, though, that his death had really affected me too.

She looked at me and said, “You were just the granddaughter.”

I don’t know what I thought was going to happen. Those people are just absolutely allergic to feelings, and here I am, the emo black sheep.

Am I completely over my Pappap’s death? FUCK NO. Maybe I’m not curled up in the fetal position, sobbing about it every night, but I do have those moments every now and then, on my birthday, on his birthday, at a damn Mike + the Mechanics show. But mostly, I smile when I see pictures of him, or hear songs that remind me of pool parties at his house, or post-church grilled cheese at Blue Flame. I like to talk about him and write about him because it keeps his memory alive. I try to honor him any chance I get, because he was the greatest man I have ever known. There is not a single day that goes by that I don’t think of him.

I have been grieving Marcy in this same fashion. It fucking hurts. I cry a lot when I’m alone, because that’s when her absence feels the heaviest. But…I am also able to tell stories about her at work (Glenn and Todd* are thrilled about this) while SMILING. I’m not 100% ready to let go yet. There are still some things I need to do, like the dinner we’re having with some of our friends tonight in her memory, the actual burial next month (the pet cemetery doesn’t start burying pets until May), and the tattoo that is already being drawn up. And then on Monday, Amber


*(Yesterday, I thrust my phone in Todd’s face and said LOOK AT THIS PICTURE OF MARCY FROM ONE DAY LAST SUMMER WHEN I WAS LOCKED OUT OF THE HOUSE AND SHE DIDN’T CARE. Todd was like, “OK. Wow.” Also, Todd is terrified of cats, so my Marcy stories don’t really do much for him.)


Completely befitting of Marcy’s volatile nature, it was thunder storming pretty savagely on Thursday evening when we arrived at Animal Friends. I half-expected to be struck down by lightning, one last act of Marcy-controlled physical infliction.

We were a little bit early, so we spent some time looking at the shelter animals. Mistake, mistake, mistake. I was crying before the vigil even started.

At 7, we gathered in a small room with seven others. Two were the volunteers in charge of the vigil, and one was a Methodist minister who was there to provide the spiritual portion of the evening. There was an older woman who lost her dog, an older couple who lost their dog, and an old lady who lost her rabbit. (And when I say “older,” I mean “older than Henry.”) To start off the vigil, one of the volunteers stood up and read the Rainbow Bridge poem, and I just sat there, box of Kleenex on my lap, openly weeping. It was OK — the older woman who lost her dog was sobbing too so that was comforting. Kind of.

The minister told us a story about her childhood dog, and I briefly considered converting to Methodist and joining her church, because she was pretty awesome. I started to feel better listening to her homily. She talked a lot about grief and how losing a pet hurts just as much as losing a person, and the worst thing that anyone can say to us during this time is, “Get over it” or “It’s just an animal.” She made me feel less crazy.

After the homily, the main volunteer—Jannie—read each story that we were asked to submit ahead of time, and as she read for each pet, the other volunteer lit a candle and presented us with a rose, a copy of the Rainbow Bridge rolled up like a scroll and tied with ribbon. Attached to the ribbon was a paper heart with a seed inside of it, for us to plant in our pet’s honor. I cried so hard listening to the story’s of the other pets being read. Everyone else there wrote about their pet’s death, but I didn’t include that part in Marcy’s story. I just wrote about what she was like, and Jannie interrupted herself when reading it to say, “Geez, she sounds like Grumpy Cat!” It was nice to laugh with everyone. But at the end of the story, Speck was mentioned and Chooch started crying when he heard her name. He is still so upset about her death, three years later, and it breaks my heart. When we came home from putting Marcy to sleep, Chooch took a picture of Speck off the wall and carried it around with him the rest of the day. Totally heartbreaking.

After the vigil, Jannie invited everyone to stick around and share more stories about their pets. “You know who I’m dying to hear from? Riley!”

I kind of thought he was going to pass, but he sat up straight and said thoughtfully, “Well…Marcy only ever scratched me twice, but she didn’t have her claws out so it didn’t hurt. I guess she was just warning me. Um…every time Mommy’s friend Janna came over, Marcy would attack her and then Mommy would laugh and post about it on her blog.” Everyone was laughing, and I thought that was all he was going to say, but then he burst into tears and, a la Chunk being interrogated by the Fratellis, went on to say, “I liked Marcy, but I was the most upset when Speck died. She was my favorite cat.” And you guys, he was crying so hard that he was shuddering in his seat. I felt so terrible and kept squeezing his knee and patting his back, and the volunteers and the minister were so quick to offer wisdom and words of comfort to him.

But it was good for him to cry and important for him to know that it was OK to cry. It was good for all of us to cry together, with strangers who are going through the same thing, rather than keep it all bottled up and act  like nothing happened, like my family always does. I honestly believe that not properly dealing with their father’s death is what made my mom and aunt crazy.

My favorite part though was when I got to show everyone a picture of Marcy. Everyone was like, “Oh wow! Those eyes! What a beauty!” and I was like, “Yeah, that’s how she got you! She lured you in with her looks and then attacked.” That was the funniest thing about her: for as much as she “hated” humans, she was ALWAYS FRONT AND CENTER. Any time I had a party, and I used to have a lot of crazy parties back in the day, she was always present, stalking around the floors or glaring down from tabletops, just waiting for some idiot to stick their hand out. She was fucking smart as shit. Scary smart, really.

Before we left, one of the volunteers said, “I just want to  tell Riley that I think it’s awesome he loves cats. Men who love cats are so rare and special. One day, you’re going to meet a girl, and she’s going to say, ‘Here, meet my cat!’ and when she sees that you’re a cat lover, she’s never going to want to let you go!” Chooch was still quietly crying, but this made him smile (and blush) a little.

I felt OK when we left. A little less heart-achey. Not completely “cured,” but I think that was a really helpful and important part in the process for me. I’m the type of person who needs to DO SOMETHING about it. I can only lay in bed and cry for so long. I need to talk and be with people and laugh and remember. (If Barb was there, she would have for sure quoted the “laughter through tears” line from Steel Magnolias*. I think it’s her favorite thing to quote.) And this night of grieving with strangers helped put some light back into me.

And, I think it helped Chooch even more than any of us imagined.

*(It really does feel good, though.)


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Apr 092015

It was a Saturday morning on March 28th, and Henry was having his daily “you people are fucking helpless!” rant, all because I ran out of makeup at the exact moment Chooch suddenly needed a piece of toast. So now Henry had to decide which to do first: go to the store for makeup or make toast. This particular rant ended with “If I end up in the hospital someday, you two are NOT moving into that room with me!”

So it was pretty funny that several hours later, he was dropping off us downtown in order for us to go to the Penguins game.



“BUT WHERE DO WE GO?!” I cried as Henry slammed on the brakes in order for us to catapult out of the car. It was an area I was unfamiliar with! (Like, all of them.)

“Just follow the people in hockey jerseys!” Henry barked, mumbling ‘idiot’ under his breath.



This day was notable for two reasons:

  1. Chooch and I were going to put our big kid pants on and handle ourselves independently of Henry. DOWNTOWN.
  2. This was going to be Chooch’s first ever hockey game!

It’s amazing that he agreed to go with me, especially since it was last minute (Barb gave me the tickets the day before — she is the best fairy god mother of all time and I still miss her EVERY SINGLE DAAAAAY), because Chooch hates hockey. And if there is one thing he hates more than hockey, it’s the Pittsburgh Penguins specifically.

I can pinpoint for you the exact moment this aversion, this fiery hatred, started: It was Friday, June 12, 2009. Chooch was three-years-old, and the Pens had just won the Stanley Cup. I was screaming. Like, lunatic-levels of verbal raving. And then I picked up Chooch and started jumping with him in arms, still screaming and woo-ing and crying tears of hockey happiness.

Chooch lost his shit. He started shaking and trying to pull away from the psycho broad shouting PENNNNNNNNNS in his face like some asshole being raptured, and then he was crying too, but not the same way I was. He was crying in the vein of a child in the throes of being scarred for life.

My friend Alisha was there that night, and she was like, “OMG put him down! You’re scaring him!” All of this in conjunction with the neighbors running into the streets outside, banging pots and pans and creating absolute sports-related pandemonium, paved the path for a very traumatic event in Chooch’s life. He probably thought the world was ending.

Ever since then, he has purposely rooted for every opposing team, especially the Flyers, oh how he loves to break my heart by cheering them on out of spite; one time I told him I was going to buy orange balloons for the birthday party HE WASN’T HAVING. But Barb was like, “Maybe if you take him to a game, he’ll change his mind.”

Right away, he said he would go with me and of course he had to wear one of my Penguins shirts because god forbid he should have any of his own. That annoyed him.

“You know I’m going to cheer for the Coyotes,” he warned on the way to Consol, and I promised that I would abandon him in an alley with nary a cardboard box if he even WHISPERED it.


But then we got there and he was like, “OK. This isn’t so bad.” Also, Henry gave me money so that I could buy him food to keep his mouth shut. That seemed to help.

He was really excited about singing the National Anthem and kept talking about it and talking about it and I was like, “Who gets excited over the Star Spangled Banner, you freak!?” But then he got to have the last laugh because some soldier had returned home from somewhere and surprised his family on the ice right before the game started, so I started crying because I just can’t handle life anymore. Chooch was like, “Are you CRYING? Jesus Christ.”

But then the best thing happened! The game started and everyone started screaming LET’S GO PENS and then CHOOCH was screaming LET’S GO PENS! My heart, oh my heart.


After the first period, we managed to go to the bathroom separately without losing* each other! WE ARE GETTING SO GOOD AT BEING….people.



*OK, I thought I lost him for a few minutes, but he was just waiting for me inside the helmet. Which is exactly where I told him to meet me.

Also, Chooch said to me, “I actually didn’t use the men’s room. The line was so long, so I just came back over here by the helmet and used the family restroom.” I love that he has way more ingenuity than me. If the line to the women’s room was too long, I would have just cried about it, peed my pants, felt rage, considered killing myself, and then blogged 87 paragraphs for no one to read about my ill-fated journey.

Chooch just rationally finds another place to piss.



Here is Chooch coming back from buying a Dilly Bar after spending two periods wearing me down. “Now can I have a Dilly Bar? When can I have a Dilly Bar? Wait…what’s a Dilly Bar, again?” Then he would look at the scoreboard and cry, “IT’S STILL 0-0?!!?” The two older men next to me kept spitting out disparaging remarks about how boring the game was, Kunitz needs to go, Bennett needs to go, shoot the fucking puck. But they were surprisingly not too loud about it so I didn’t get all that upset. And every time they would leave their seats, they would high-five Chooch, so they weren’t all too bad.



I think what really won him over was Iceburgh, the Penguins’ mascot. We all know that Chooch is a future furry, and he gloms on to mascots every where we go. So, he spent most of the time searching the stands for Iceburgh.

But then in the third period, actual scoring finally started happening so Chooch was like, “Hmm. This is kind of cool.” Except for the times when I would accidentally scream in his ear and then he’d consider going back to hating hockey. I CAN’T HELP IT. I’M A SCREAMER.

“Man, I just really wish you could see Crosby score,” I lamented to Chooch. And then, no less than 10 seconds later, Crosby scored. I wish it always worked that way.

The Pens ended up winning (amazingly, considering the abysmal streak they’ve been on during this season’s homestretch) and Chooch got to see a fight and unfortunately, a grisly hit by Shane Doan on Letang, which stopped the game for a good 10 minutes before Letang was finally able to get and skate off to the locker room, with assistance. Chooch was outraged by all of this and become obsessed with flipping off Shane Doan’s picture in the game’s program.



Right when we were leaving our seats, some guy walked by and said, “YOUR SHIRT IS AWESOME!” except that he said it to ME and not CHOOCH, and you guys know how Chooch gets when shit like this happens. It was basically like this guy took my eyeball purse and beat Chooch with it, that’s how much it stung him. God, he is so attention-starved! He must get that shit from Henry.

Chooch was so pleasant all afternoon that I caved and bought him a plush Iceburgh. And then we managed to make it all the home on the trolley without accidentally giving the homeless people all of my money (Bleeding Heart Syndrome) or falling off a cliff.

Then we came home and I asked Henry if he missed us and he said no because we were only gone for a few hours. :(

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Apr 092015


Sometimes my day can be so spectacularly disappointing (all work-related, nothing that actually matters) but then something music-related happens to save the day. Pierce the Veil was added to the Warped Tour lineup, and even though everyone pretty much already knew that because of a leaked flyer, it was still awesome to find out for sure!

This year’s Warped Tour has the potential to be better than 2008, which was my favorite one! 

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