Jul 032015

Henry and I are off work today, so we’re going to some large flea market in Ohio that only happens on Fridays so we never get to go because Jobs. (We’re dragging Chooch with us of course and he is pretty surly about this right now.) I’m hoping to find a wheelchair (so that Henry can make me cry when he points out that it won’t fit in the car) and obviously SUCCULENTS. I haven’t bought any SUCCULENTS in like two weeks because I’ve been funneling all of my attention onto my ailing Ted NUDE-gent, but Henry re-potted him and I think maybe he’ll be OK because he hasn’t seemed to have gotten any worse.

So before any new SUCCULENT-adopting happens, I wanted to introduce the Internet to the rest of the ones I brought to their forever home (lol) a few weeks ago.

Heeeeeeere’s Agnes!


Henry bought the virginlicious planter at some thrift shop while Chooch and I were at the Sleeping With Sirens two weeks ago. When he sent me a picture of it, I was like, “Do you even need to ask me!?” Agnes fits perfectly!


Agnes is very sturdy.


I forget what type of succulent she is.


Suzy Banyon by candlelight. I took this picture the other night because I just wanted to get closer to Agnes so she could protect me when Chooch and I were watching The Exorcist.


This is Yootha Joyce. I like her because she looks like a bunch of stars stacked together.


Sõrg! Isn’t he a babe? He’s a “Fang” succulent, and sorg means fang in Estonian, apparently; I asked my cabbage dealer. I painted an old candle votive thing just for him and then didn’t wait long enough for it to dry because I’m impatient and Henry got really annoyed, which was actually just a continuation of him already being annoyed about something I had done previously to annoy him because when isn’t he annoyed?


Whenever Gayle found out that there was a Swat situation on my street a few weeks ago, she asked me, “Is it your house? Too many plants in the window?” GOOD ONE, GAYLE!

I will leave you now, my fair friends, with a beautiful song that I think my succulents are really responding to. This joint makes me want to do slow Cabbage Patches all around Henry until he can no longer deny my presence.

Alone. is the side project of Michael Franzino from A Lot Like Birds and it is a thing of beauty, just like my plants.

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Jul 012015

I used to talk to this guy Jeremiah when I was in high school, and I mean that literally and not as a euphemism for movie theater hand jobs. He was kind of Thug Lyfe-ish in that he lived in kind of a rough area and sold drugs and wound up in jail later on in life (he’s probably still in jail, and I’d Google that shit but I can’t quite remember his last name). When we would talk, I would oftentimes have to put the receiver down on my bed and go about doing my homework or painting my nails, getting a snack or finishing a mix tape, because that boy would talk and talk and talk about every last detail of his day, and it would be in this reallllly sloooooow voice.

“And then……………I sold a dime bag………..to………Aunt Meg……….” 

*Puts phone down and flips the tape to Side B*

He was busted selling cocaine to an undercover cop.

I mean, great guy though! He had my back and loved to make threats to suburban boys who were bothering me,  and even tried to help me when I decided in tenth grade that I was going to join a girl gang, except that I couldn’t figure out how to take a bus to his house in Hazelwood in order to be initiated into the gang.

I still wouldn’t know how to take a bus to his house in Hazelwood, so I’m still pretty similar to 10th grade Erin.

I’m only mentioning this because when I was writing my Waldameer post on Sunday, I paused and thought to myself, “Huh. I am essentially the Jeremiah of blogging.”

And then. And then! AND THEN!

Oh well. Maybe someday I’ll be on trial for murder and I’ll need to know exactly where I was and what I did on Saturday, June 28, 2015, and through the power of an Internet blog that can be altered and fictionalized at any given juncture, I will be able to give a courtroom a play-by-play a la Jeremiah from Hazelwood.

Your Honor, I started my Saturday by waking up. I took a shower. I do not recall shaving that day, but you should ask my life partner, Henry. He might recall. I got dressed. It was chilly at first, so I put on shorts and a long-sleeved Pierce the Veil shirt that I bought at their World Tour show in February, which is my first lie because HENRY bought that shirt for me.

I then attempted to make cream of wheat, into which I added cinnamon, dates, blueberries, lavender honey, and chia seeds. But it TASTED WEIRD. So I left it on the sink and then made a sad, pathetic English muffin. Henry had gone to the store real quick, but I don’t remember for what now. When he returned, I yelled at him to try the cream of wheat I left on the counter by the sink and he immediately said, “Your soy milk is bad, idiot.”

I pouted about this for awhile, and then I went upstairs and changed into jeans, a t-shirt, and a kimono-thing that I bought from some vintage shop’s Instagram flash sale and then that bitch acted like she shipped it but all she actually had done was create a shipping label and then after two weeks of the tracking info not being updated, I emailed her and got NO RESPONSE, but coincidentally, the tracking info was suddenly updated two days later when she FINALLY PUT IT IN THE MAIL. I’m not trying to cast aspersions here, but Frolic Vintage is a big fat unprofessional bitch and the kimono stunk when I got it. But it’s super pretty, and now it smells normal after Henry washed it.

Buyer beware.

Caveat emptor.

Don’t buy shit from Instagram, maybe.

(Are you painting your nails yet?)

Around 10:30, I drove through a dreary, Seattle-esque rainstorm to Lisa’s house in Pleasant Hills. I was slightly early, so I drove around a little bit because I was listening to PVRIS and if you listen to PVRIS, you might understand the need to stay in the car and just listen to one more song. And then one more. And fuck it, just let the album start over. I drove past the police station and my old dentist who fucked up my teeth when I was in elementary school (Dr. LeDonne, what a fucking dental douche!), and then I drove down the street that my first stalkee, Scott Dambaugh, lived on and WOW, MEMORIES.

At 11:00, I pulled in front of Lisa’s house, where she and Gigi were waiting for me at the door. Gigi had just had a bath, so Lisa had to go and get her dressed, leaving me to sit on the couch and interact with their dog, Tucker, who wanted me to play tug of war with him. Then Lisa brought Gigi back and left to get the laundry out of the dryer so I took that as my opportunity to make Gigi take selfies with me. Because I’m such a selfless person (yet full of selfies), I’m posting this one where Gigi is smiling (I told her to smile so people would think she likes me) instead of the other one I took even though I look so much better in the other one, ugh.

Gigi is growing so fast! Her head is about the size of a cabbage now.

Then Lisa was like, “Come in the kitchen while I prepare lunch” which required her to spend 87 minutes cutting peppers because she kept getting distracted and I drank way too much coffee during this time and recounted the tragic tale of my wasted cream of wheat. Then I played Emarosa, Never Shout Never, and The Cure for Gigi, and explained to Lisa the whole Emarosa situation where they have a new singer now and how they’re even better than they were before which is really saying something because you know how obsessed I used to be with Jonny Craig….

“Who?” Lisa asked, and I thought she was kidding but she claims to honestly have never heard me mention Jonny Craig not even once in the last 7 years and I actually became disturbed by this because who doesn’t know about my (now buried) Jonny Craig obsession!?

I played her an Emarosa song and she said it reminded her of Stavesacre so she stopped cutting peppers for the 5456874th time in order to locate and then put on a Stavesacre CD and I was like, “This doesn’t remind me of Emarosa at all.”

While she had resumed chopping, I asked her if she remembered this one time back in 2002 or 2003 when we went to a coffee house to watch some guy sing.

She said no.

I said that I was pretty sure it was a friend of hers and that the coffee house was in Beaver Falls or Beaver, somewhere near the college she went to, and she was still looking at me like I was crazy.

“Yeah, and there was some guy there that you knew and it turned out that he worked at the gas station down the street from my house,” I pressed on, hoping to jog something in her decrepit memory.

“Nope,” she shrugged.

So then I texted Henry and basically asked him if he had any recollection of me going to this acoustic coffee house show with Lisa and he was like, “Sort of. I guess.”

After a good 30 minutes of this, Lisa finally remembered and then asked me why we had started talking about this in the first place.

“Because we were listening to Stavesacre in your car that night,” I replied in a “duh” tone. Why didn’t she just know this?!

She looked at me long and hard and shook her head. “Your memory is so weird.”

Lisa and I are so different in so many ways, that our friendship probably shouldn’t even work, but somehow it does. I remember every thing and she remembers nothing, so most of our conversations involve me trying to recreate our old memories with as many words and gesticulations as possible until something finally clicks, or ends with me giving up and saying, “It happened, OK? Trust me.”

Then me, Lisa, and Gigi ate lunch (eggs from Lisa’s aunt’s and uncle’s chicken, with pepper and feta) and then Gigi and I shared graham crackers and life was pretty good. After lunch, it was time for Gigi to get ready for her nap so Lisa said that she could pick out a book “and we can have storytime with Miss Erin.” I started to cheer at first but then said, “Wait…you’re reading it, right?”

“Yes,” Lisa sighed.

Gigi picked an alphabet book that featured atypical animals, like narwals and uakaris. It was OK, but I wanted more plot.

After Gigi went down for a nap, Lisa and I reminisced, and by that I mean I was one Google search away from “how to contact Mnemosyne” to come and bring back her fucking memories!

“Do you remember that one night in high school when we went to visit Jeremiah and Evan and Tony were so pissed?” I laughed.

“Who?” Lisa asked. “Jeremiah?”

I couldn’t believe that she had forgotten about Jeremiah! She used to get so annoyed every time he would page me! (Yes, I had a pager! I was trying to be in a gang, remember?!)

“We went there after Evan’s art show!” I offered, giving her more words to use as a crutch as she slowly limped down Memory Lane.

“Evan had an art show? Where was Evan’s art show?”


“IT WAS AT CMU AND IT WAS ONE OF THE BEST NIGHTS OF MY HIGH SCHOOL LIFE!” I cried, and then she yelled at me for being too loud while Gigi was sleeping. UGH, EXCUSE ME!

I have video footage of that night, impromptu trip to Jeremiah’s house included, so I guess Henry will just have to get that transferred to DVD asap and then Lisa and I will have movie night, where she will have parts of her missing teen years pieced back together like a crude tapestry of band tees and Denny’s receipts courtesy of my compulsive videotaping.

Then I left and drove home without incident. I listened to Emarosa. Even some of the Jonny Craig Emarosa.



I came home and bitched to Henry about how I couldn’t get the Bluetooth to work in my car (MY car) but then I was distracted by a package with name on it and it was a candy heart necklace I bought from Danny Brito! I put it on right away, because #everydaysentiments.

Then I think Henry and I watched Wayward Pines and So You Think You Can Dance and I cried a couple times because those dancers and their goddamn touching stories and insurmountable odds being overcome.

I took some type of pills because I had a headache and whenever I have a headache, Henry is all, “DID YOU TAKE SOMETHING FOR IT!?”

(Are you taking your own pills right now? Sleeping pills? OR IS THIS BLOG POST DOING THE TRICK FOR YOU?)

Then we decided that Chooch needed shoes to wear during the times he’s not outside with the neighbor kids playing Lord of the Flies, so the three of us when to one of the local malls that’s in the most state of despair, but it has a Journeys and Chooch wanted TOMS. First though, I almost perished on an escalator in JC Penney’s because I just never learned how to board one of those things without clenching up, but I almost died on one in Atlantic City when I was 4 but my PAPPAP SAVED ME.

We bought Chooch red TOMS, and the saleskid at Journeys shook Henry’s hand after he handed him the bag, which made me wonder if handed him something else, too.

There was a New Years Day video playing. I said something about not recognizing Ash Costello without half of her hair being red. No one cared.

GameStop was unfortunately right next door and the guy working there told us that they were having a Buy One Get One Free Skylander special that day only, and when Chooch started screaming, the sales guy was like, “YOU’RE WELCOME!” to Henry.

Chooch got two stupid Skylanders.

I went to Wet Seal because they were having a 60% entire store sale and after .0005 seconds it was clear that they’re going out of business because their clothes are ugly as fuck. I made sure to say this loudly too, because the girls working there are clearly the designers. They cared.

Then we left the mall and I pouted on the way home because Chooch got stuff and I didn’t.

Got home and went to my room and slammed the door.


Henry came upstairs and stood in the doorway, laughing at me.

I screamed a lot about being hungry.

Henry made me dinner but now I can’t remember what it was.

At some point, I checked my Simpsons: Tapped Out game and argued with Chooch about whose Springfield is better (obviously mine). Then I declared that it was time for pie, so after Chooch spent 15 minutes trying to pry on his right TOM (I told him he has Barney Rubble feet and then he had to google who Barney Rubble is, good lord), the three (Your Honor, that’s me,  Henry, and Chooch, for the record) of us walked down the street to Eat n Park. It didn’t take long before Henry broke away and walked ahead of us.

Way ahead of us.



Some kid from Chooch’s grade was there with his family. Chooch was seated facing him, and he gets SO WEIRD when he sees his school friends outside of the classroom so that made for an awkward desserting experience.

I wanted cherry pie like really bad but Eat n Park doesn’t believe in damn good pie so I had to get peach instead. It was OK. Our waiter looked like Ed Sheeran. He might have been gay. That is just an observation.

I ordered my pie with ice cream, but I said, “With ice cream” and not “a la mode.” I wasn’t in a linguistically fancy mood. Not like I was 87 (give or take) paragraphs up there when I said “a la Jeremiah” like I’m some sort of brie-noshing Francophile.

Chooch got molten lava cake and Henry got grilled stickies WITH ICE CREAM and also a creamsicle milkshake, which made me do that deep-throated, “OH HO HO HO!!!” that I do when I’m emasculating his every move. Henry mumbled, “Shut up” and seemed embarrassed that I spotlighted his audacity to double-dessert, but really I just couldn’t wait to steal some slurps of his milkshake.

It was OK.

Just OK.

We had to leave soon after we finished eating because Chooch was starting to laugh so hard that he was choking and I was taking some horribly sloppy Henry Bomb photos which made the people at the booth adjacent from ours wonder if I was taking pictures of them and we kept making shifty eye contact with each other and it was just bad news all around, you know?

So Henry paid and we split.

Chooch and I made it about a quarter of a block before the sugar set in and we ran the rest of the way home, leaving Henry in the wake of our echoing giggles. Once home, we tried to hide from him behind a lilac bush that I always thought was a giant weed until someone once was like, “That’s a lilac bush. Haven’t you ever seen the lilacs on it?” and I was like, “Yes, but I just thought, ‘Wow, that large weed is growing lilacs.'”

Henry claims he knew we were there, then tried to lock us out, THEN lectured us on why screaming “CALL THE COPS!” is a bad thing to scream in our neighborhood.

I honestly have no recollection of what I did after that, but it likely didn’t involve murder, which I imagine is what I’m on imaginary-trial for. 

(Oh wait, I remember! I was making Henry and Chooch watch some guy’s homemade video from Glastonbury 1985 on YouTube while I spouted off about how wonderful music was in 1985 and how desperately I wanted to dive through the TV and land with a perfect somersault onto the grounds of Glastonbury just in time to have some goth boi help me obtain perfect Siouxsie cat eyes before The Cure’s set. Chooch was like, “All these people look weird. I’m going on the computer.” I can’t remember what Henry was doing, but it probably wasn’t googling ‘my girlfriend stabbed me in my spleen and I’m bleeding out. What should I do?’)

At some point I went to bed, probably fell asleep pouting.

(Are you still there? Hello?)

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Jun 302015


On my break today, I was looking at Warped Tour pictures (when aren’t I?) and I got really excited when I found this one (even though I’ve seen like 87 variations of it already)!

“Glenn, LOOK, OMG!” I cried, moving to the side so that he could see my computer screen.

“OK,” he mumbled dourly.

“I’m so excited!” I sighed with my hands on my chest.

“Why?” he asked snidely.

“Uh, because it’s BRADLEY SCOTT WALDEN from EMAROSA hanging UPSIDE DOWN FROM THE STAGE and I get to see him do that NEXT WEEK!” I answered angrily because WHY DOESN’T HE GET IT.

“OK,” he said again, and then his eyes disappeared from the top of his desk, signifying that he was done with this conversation.


“I really gave Glenn a great opportunity to connect with me,” I whined to Amber1 later. “It could have been a real bonding moment.”

“Aw,” she said sympathetically. “Maybe next time you should talk about lawn mowing. That would probably work.”


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Jun 302015

I fell off my Henry Bomb game this time around because I spent most of the weekend pouting. (No actual reason other than I’m Erin Rachelle Kelly.)

The “Falling Asleep While Erin Watches Warped Tour Pit Vlogs On YouTube, This Is Too Exciting For a Friday Night” shot.

The “Forced Hand-Hold On The Way To The Mall, If Only Tiffany Was Performing There To Complete This Picture Of Puppy Love” shot.

The “Whoa, TWO Desserts? Livin’ Large!” shot.

The “Paying For All Of His Desserts” shot.


The “Making A Big Deal Out Of the New Cross-Walk Box & Reminiscing About The Days When Pedestrians Were Less Coddled & Able To Cross A Street Without A Robotic, Disembodied Voice Telling Them When” shot.

The “He’s Been Watching the Wen Segment On QVC For Too Long, Caught Feelings For Chaz Dean” shot.

Henry + Chaz.

The “Pretending To Be Too Cool To Watch Scream With His Family While Still Occasionally Looking Up From His Phone Because He Can’t Remember If There’s Any Nudity In This Classic Film” shot.

The “We Put On The Exorcist And Then Found Henry Pouting In Bed Because He’s ‘Not Interested In Watching That'” shot. Side note: One of the first things I learned about Henry is that he is terrified of any horror movie with religious themes and just absolutely refuses to watch them, especially any of the ones involving exorcisms, which clearly means that he was possessed when he was in the SERVICE and had to be exorcised by a Panamanian priest.

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Jun 292015


It rained A LOT over the weekend, so when we had a little bit of a reprieve on Sunday afternoon, I begged Chooch to go for a walk with me. And then, since he got to buy a new Skylander on Saturday, I guilted him into letting me take more pictures of him, because I was bored as fuck. (This happens every time I designate a “chill” weekend. I am just not meant to sit at home.)

Henry, barely glancing up from the couch, mumbled, “Be careful” as we walked out the door.


There are a lot of creepy alleys in Brookline, so we picked one and went from there.


Chooch’s dumb mouth set off a series of dog-barking, which was totally annoying and brought a ton of attention to the two a-holes slinking around suspiciously behind houses. As we neared what seemed to be the alpha dog on the street, I mistakenly said, “Hi buddy!” which alerted, I am not shitting you, EIGHT MORE DOGS to come charging at the fence from the side of the house.

Granted, they were all really small dogs, terriers and things like that (I’m bad with recognizing canine breeds), but their barks were way bigger than the large alpha dog guarding the gate. Chooch and I cracked up because it was so cartoon-ish how this herd of tiny dogs just materialized seemingly out of nowhere.

I bet that street doesn’t have a burglary problem.


His face is always dirty.


Chooch got this shirt from the Pierce the Veil show in Lancaster when he was 6. I think it’s an Adult XS and now it almost doesn’t fit him anymore! :(


Yes, please. Pretend like you’re breaking and entering. Alert more hounds.


I like this one because it looks like he’s in a “DON’T COME NEAR ME!” stance, which is lovely and sends all the right messages to Child Protective Services.


Almost all of Chooch’s time these days is monopolized by the neighborhood kids (he has a fan club — they sit on the porch and wait for him) so I was happy that he gave me 30 minutes of his precious time. He actually didn’t even bitch about it once we got out of the door!


I’m pretty sure the only reason Chooch agreed to go on this walk with me is because he was hoping to stumble upon his GIRLFRIEND.


On the way home, we walked past succulent city! Some house had a whole shit load of succulents in long troughs and I plucked one of the leaves right the fuck off so I could take it home and propagate it because “propagate” is now a regular part of my vocabulary. Chooch was appalled that I “stole” this, but no dogs barked so it was an easy getaway.


Later that night, I was inspired by the upcoming premier of the new MTV Scream series (and also my brother Corey’s fanatical texts while watching MTV’s Scream marathon) to revisit the first Scream movie. Somehow, Chooch has lived nine years without ever seeing it (though he does know about it), so he ran upstairs to grab his blanket and then settled in on the couch with Henry and me in a rare, American family moment. (Henry will usually go in the other room and pretend like he’s doing important things on the computer when we watch horror movies because he’s scared.)

“That lady looks familiar,” Chooch said at one point.

“She was on ‘Friends,'” I said, and then he knowingly said, “Oh yeah. Courtney Cox.”

This cracked me up, that a nine-year-old knows Courtney Cox’s name because of ‘Friends’.

Anyway, after Scream ended, Chooch emphatically announced, “I LOVED IT.” And then, after thinking about it, he added, “I didn’t know it was going to be so funny, too.” Nothing fazes him.

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Jun 282015

Our Father’s Day tradition is usually to hit up our local amusement park, Kennywood. I just wasn’t feeling it this year  though, and since I have a knack for making every day about me, even Father’s Day, I suggested that we take a little road trip to Erie and visit Waldameer because I was having some kind of Ravine Flyer II cravings. I mean, it makes sense to me: let’s make the man who hates amusement take us to a park full of it.

Of course Henry said yes because I rule, but I’m sure he was wishing that I could just have normal cravings, like for pickles or sex, or pickle sex. We already got to do shit that he wanted to do on his birthday a few weeks ago (i.e. nothing), so I didn’t feel too bad about hijacking his holiday.



It takes about the same amount of time (two hours-ish) to get to Waldameer as it does Delgrosso’s, but it’s a different direction and for some reason, it just seems like the drive goes so much faster. Plus, there’s more to ride there and Henry can still pay zero dollars to loaf around on every bench he comes across, plus it has THE WACKY SHACK. If only they had the Wacky WORM as well, then we’d never have to go to Delgrosso’s again!

In all honesty (because I usually lie lie lie to you all the other times?), I wasn’t going to write about this recent trip to Waldameer. I’m a little burnt out and really, nothing note-worthy happened this time around.

One of the things my mom did right when I was a kid was always having her camera with her, which is how my memories of our trips to the Wildwood boardwalk have held up. I love that there’s a picture of me and my Pappap on the Keystone Kops ride, and my step-dad and me on the Wildmouse, and the people stuck on the Sea Serpent coaster. My mom was good about that shit, and that’s one of the good qualities I definitely picked up from her—I take pictures of everrrrrryyyyything. I’m sure it’s annoying to Henry and Chooch and they’re like, “No one cares about your picture of the Ravine Flyer, Erin” but someday, when it’s not there anymore, and Chooch is visiting me in the shoddy, state-funded home he’s shipped me off to, he’s going to ask, “Hey Burden, what was that coaster we used to like at that one park that took forever to get to and I would cry about it in the car?” and then I’ll say some kind of technology spell and the Internet will materialize in front of us like a mirage and we can spend quality-time looking through pictures together on my blog.

So, maybe nothing note-worthy happened, but 40 years from now, Chooch might think differently about that.

I want my future house to look like the Wacky Shack.

We were the first ones to ride the Wacky Shack that day! The park was pretty sparsely populated all day, so we mostly just walked right on all of the rides without having to wait anyway, but Chooch still thought this was gloat-worthy.


The second time we rode the Wacky Shack, we were in line behind a family: a mom, her son who was probably 12, her daughter who was maybe 14, and the grandma. Apparently, there was some drama with one of the park performers and the grandson, some big misunderstanding, but the park performer blew it out of proportion and threatened to have this kid reported and kicked out of the park. I couldn’t figure out what had happened, but he had seemingly on accident, done something to really jack her off during her performance. This kid didn’t seem too threatening to me, just your typical white suburban boy in a Nike shirt and cargo shorts. He looked really upset while the mom was filling in the grandma, and if Chooch could just ever stop talking for more than 2 seconds at a time, I might have been able to come home with a much better story for you, Blog!

We saw the family later on, this time the dad was with them too. Now there was some drama with between the boy and his sister. He had evidently walked away from her while she was talking to him, and now the dad was trying to act as a mediator while he was in line for the go-carts with the son who now all of a sudden didn’t seem so innocent.  The daughter was on the other side of the line and the dad was like, “Why don’t you just calm down and ride this with us?” and she was like, “I DON’T WANT TO RIDE THAT!” in a “how dare you minimize my feelings!” tone and stormed off to sit on a bench with Grandma. We walked past them later and she was still sitting on the bench, head down, and scowling.

It was like looking at myself.

After this latest episode, now I’m not sure I believe that Boy didn’t do something unlawful to Park Performer. He seems like a real motherfucker, walking away from his sister like that.

Chooch made me ride the Steel Dragon twice in a row: once sitting front-facing, and once rear-facing. That shit fucked me up and I opted to sit down on a bench and put myself in Henry’s shoes while Chooch rode a third time by himself.

I keep seeing some lame article going around about people spending too much time taking pictures of their kids with their kids instead of “actually living in the moment” and while I can see where this would be concerning in extreme cases, I have to roll my eyes at this because how am I not “living in the moment” by taking a picture? To me, I’m living in the moment and also capturing a photographical memory of it because I know it’s going to be something that I will look back on some day when I’m sad, and it’ll make me smile. And that’s what I do on days that I’m sad, for real! I re-read trips to Kennywood and Warped Tour and then I’m OK again.      Meanwhile, Chooch was like, “People keep staring at me…?” He forgot he had purple hair.   

On the Comet, Chooch and I sat behind this guy, Michael, who was in his late teens/early 20s and seemed to possibly be autistic. He was LOVING LIFE, you guys, and I have to say, his enthusiasm was infectious. We wound up behind him right after this, in line for the Ravine Flyer II. Michael ran out of line because he wanted to hug some country music station mascot (I never could figure out what it was supposed to be); when Michael came back, he started to walk to the back of the line, but Chooch and I stopped him and let him get back in front of us because we were obsessed with him.

“I like this guy,” Chooch whispered, jutting an elbow in Michael’s general vicinity.

This coaster is the shit, you guys. Here are some words that go through my head when I’m riding it:

  • This was a mistake.
  • oh god.
  • holy fuuuuuck!
  • This is the train to Hades!!!

Oh my god, it’s a wild ride. Chooch and I laugh like hyenas on it and for those 2 minutes, we are best friends and not bickering mother and son.

The second time we rode it, I was pissed because some stupid group got to jump the line because they were filming it for Periscope, and they were sooooo smug about it. Their leader was some arrogant ginger and the rest of us people in line scowled as he encouraged his group to scream and act more stoked than they actually were. Turns out it was some lame Drumstick gimmick:


I spent a good portion of the day shooting Henry in the face with my forced-adorable expressions in order to soften him up because Chooch and I desperately wanted him to ride the Ravine Flyer II with us! Even if you don’t buy a ride-all-day pass, you can put money on a Wally Card in order to ride things.  Waldameer is a cash-free park, so you have put money on one of those cards in order to buy food and play games, anyway, so…..he had no good excuse!

For some reason, Chooch always thinks this is a sign for a ride.  

It pains me to admit this, but my motion-sickness tolerance is even more unpredictable than ever this year. Normally, I’m good on  the Tilt-a-Whirl, but at Delgrosso’s last month, I almost puked on it. So I smartly avoided the Tilt-a-Whirl at Waldameer. However, I did go on the Swings almost as soon as we arrived, because it was one of the few rides that was already running. I admittedly haven’t been on the Swings in any park in the last several years because I was starting to lose enjoyment for it. But I decided to give it a shot and was pleasantly surprised! I didn’t get sick at all, and I was even able to enjoy the beautiful view of Lake Erie.

So I stupidly allowed myself to believe that I was cured of spinny-ride syndrome, and later rode the Spider with Chooch, upon which the color immediately drained from my face and I limply flopped around in the seat like a dying flounder. The ride operator must have noticed that he had a potential puker on his  hands, because even though we were the last ones to board, we were the first ones off. And the ride seemed curiously short, too. Henry was waiting for us on a bench, and just shook his head smugly when he saw me shuffling toward my death bed. I spent the next 15 minutes with a cold bottle of water pressed against my neck, sitting as still as I could on the bench and begging my eyeballs to stop darting around in their sockets. Henry and Chooch went off to play games and when I was finally able to rejoin them, I found myself spending an unusually large amount of time admiring the (safe, still, unmoving) landscape. Statues! Flowerbeds! Topiaries! Things I never gave a shit about before.

Over by the go-carts, Henry overheard a conversation between a white trash mom, her son, and his girlfriend. I guess the son was telling his girlfriend that all of the little kids in line with them were his siblings and he said, “Can you believe all those kids dropped out of my mom’s hole?” and then the mom bragged about not even having any stretch marks and lifted her shirt all of the way up to prove it.

Happy Father’s Day, Henry!  

Henry’s favorite part of the day: walking alone.

By the end of the day, we wore Henry down and got him to ride the Ravine Flyer II with us! (Oh, and if you’re wondering what happened to the Ravine Flyer I, apparently some dude died on it a long time ago and it was torn down and II was built in its place. Good to know!)

One of the young ride attendants was super enthusiastic and made us all give him a high-five on the way off the ride, and HENRY ACTUALLY DID IT! Dare I say, Henry might have actually had a little fun that day. I mean, he got to eat a soft pretzel; warm, candied almonds; a snickerdoodle (his favorite cookie!); and he got to waste more of Chooch’s college fund on games. Sounds like a pretty fulfilling Father’s Day, if you ask me.

[PS: Chooch wants me to tell you that he found out the next day via Instagram that his girlfriend Cassie was at KENNYWOOD on Father’s Day. “THE ONE TIME WE DONT GO!” he wailed.]

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Jun 262015

As I’m writing this week’s bullet (AHHHHHHHHH) rodeo, I realized that almost everything is work-related and then that made me sad because when did I stop having a life outside of work, wahhhh. (Considering that last night alone I was invited to two happy hours, both of which I politely declined, I guess you could say that this is no one’s fault but my own, or whatever it is you would say in these situations. What would your grandma say?)

  • Gayle was heating up bacon in the office kitchen the other day and I nearly drowned on my own saliva. I’m sure I’ve said this 87 times on here, but bacon is my fucking weakness. It’s like putting a bowl of blood in front of a dieting vampire. BE STRONG, ERIN RACHELLE. Think of PETA!
  • I found a picture I took of my grilled cheese, probably at either Frank & Shirley’s or Georgie’s Diner, back in ’96/’97. I guess I have always enjoyed photographing food, you guys, so let’s stop blaming Instagram. And considering that there is a .38 Special cassette on the table, I was probably with Lisa:

  • When I got to work today, it sounded like someone behind me was trying to discreetly eat glass. I later learned that it was Todd eating non-shelled peanuts. That made me feel better and less worried about stumbling upon someone’s bleeding mouth.
  • Me, just now: “I miss Barb.” Glenn: “You talk to her everyday.” Me: “Yeah, but I miss her BEING HERE.” It’s not really getting any better here, you guys. The newlady doesn’t even mess up the daily Roll Call emails. I MISS THE MESSED-UP ROLL CALL EMAILS!
    • I cut my hair and no one even noticed because Barb isn’t here to tell everyone. I AM PRACTICALLY INVISIBLE NOW!
  • When I was on my lunch break the other day, I was sitting on a bench thing in some courtyard place when some man in a dirty white t-shirt and CAMOUFLAGE PLANTS approached me WITH HIS HAND IN HIS POCKET and he asked me WHERE THE POST OFFICE IS. I went into survival mode and by that I mean I clenched my thighs together to keep the fear-induced pee drops from leaking out. I did not know the answer to his question and feared that this would anger him, but luckily the woman sitting next to me pointed him in the right direction, which happened to be in the building directly across from us, so as he walked away, I took that as my cue to leave because I was so sure he was about to go postal, literally. As I walked away, I noticed him, standing just inside the revolving doors, shooting up the place swiveling his head around in search of where to go next to shoot up the place.
    • I was practically pushing people out of my way on my run back to work. I didn’t hear anything about a post office tragedy later, so maybe he forgot to bring his bullets. (AHHHHHH.)
  • Hey speaking of shooting up the place, last Friday, since I was working late shift and had some time to kill in the morning, I decided to walk to the CVS up the street from my house so that I could finally get new candy for my empty candy urn and get A-ron off my back about it. Chooch wanted to go too and Henry’s mom Judy imparted some ominous warning upon us about the road being blocked. We were like, “OK Judy whatever you say Judy sure Judy” and started walking. Right away, I noticed that a tree-cutting truck was blocking part of the sidewalk a block away. “Oh no, how will we ever get to CVS” I said sarcastically to Chooch, as we crossed the street for an unobstructed path. A police car sped past and I did the fist-shake at him because THERE ARE KIDS AROUND, ASSHOLE! But then as we approached the slight crest in the road, I noticed that beyond the tree cutting truck were more police cars, some of them parked horizontally, blocking traffic. “YOU CAN’T COME OVER HERE!” an angry city cop barked from the other side of the street. He was standing there, talking to some broad, as others milled about and stared at one of the houses. I immediately became huffy because I hate being told what to do — ESPECIALLY BY AUTHORITY. So, in my best Spoiled White Girl tone, I yelled back, “JESUS CHRIST. WELL, CAN WE CROSS OVER AND GO THAT WAY THEN!?” and I pointed across the street to where he was standing. He nodded and made a rushed “come on” motion with his hand. So Chooch and I crossed the street and as soon as we turned left on the sidewalk, Angry Cop bellowed, “MA’AM I SAID YOU CAN’T COME THIS WAY!” I lost my fucking shit and screamed, “NO, ACTUALLY YOU DIDN’T!” and I then spun around dramatically and started marching away. “OMG mommy,” Chooch mumbled, scared that I was going to be the next senseless victim of an overzealous cop. Another (calmer) cop strode past us, having just arrived at the scene. “We just don’t want you to get hurt,” Good Cop said in an attempt to massage my Rage Muscles. “I’M JUST TRYING TO GO TO CVS TO BUY MOTHERFUCKING CANDY!” I cried in the hysterical tone I tend to adopt when my plans deviate even a little. I was actually shaking at this point, but Chooch and I continued on our way to CVS, having to take a huge detours through side streets.
    • When we came home, I angrily shouted a play-by-play of the events to Judy. When I finished, she waited a beat and then asked, “Why can’t your co-workers buy their own candy?”
      • I have to do SOMETHINGto be less invisible, OK Judy!? Even if it means using candy to make people visit my desk.
        • Did A-ron honestly just stroll over here and start talking shit on my caramel apple Werthers? YES, YES HE DID.
    • Turns out it was the SWAT team, responding to a call about a suicide attempt. “Way to walk into a SWAT situation,” Amber Returning-To-Work-Next-Wednesday texted me later that day.
      • It’s just like me to make someone else’s suicide attempt ALL ABOUT MYSELF.
      • I guess Bad Cop really was just trying to make sure we didn’t get hurt—by an errant bullet. (AHHHHHH!!)
    • In hindsight, I’m kind of embarrassed. Marginally.
  • Ted NUDE-gent is dying and I don’t know what to do! (Except for whining to Henry about it every day and making him add more pebbles to the bottom of Ted’snudey mugand also drilling more drainage holes into it because if I re-pot him all together thenhewon’t be TED NUDE-GENT ANYMORE WILL HE!?
    • On Monday, Gayle asked me if I bought any more plants over the weekend and I cried, “NO BECAUSE TED NUDE-GENT IS DYING” and she was like, “Oh, alright.”
    • I just learned that the human Ted Nugent has his own line of bullets. (AHHHHHHH!)
  • One of our co-workers is visiting from Australia and brought a bunch of Cadbury Vegemite bars. I had Vegemite once when I was in Canberra 15 years ago, and I can still vividly recall the sewage flavor; my tongue recoils just at the memory alone. Sandy, knowing it was going to taste like shit, was the first to try a piece. “It tastes like chocolate-covered garbage,” was her official review. Just walking by where the opened package was sitting, Vegemite and caramel oozing together in a pool of sticky smut, the odor alone fisted my gag reflex. Nopenope nope. As an experiment, I took two small pieces home for Henry and Chooch, not telling them anything other than, “Here. Chocolate.”
    • Henry: “What? This tastes like regular chocolate. WHY? WHAT DID YOU DO TO IT!?” #garbagepalate
    • Chooch: *Spit it out into the sink after .005 seconds* That’s my boy!
  • WARPED TOUR!! ELEVEN DAYS!! “I just thought about Warped Tour and I got roller coaster stomach,” I said all dreamily to Glenn the other day and he responded with his knee-jerk mumble of “ohmygod.” Chooch is really stoked for it this year too, more so than he has been in the past, and he even made a list of bands he wants to see which made my heart melt:

  • On Wednesday, I was chomping at the bit for Amber1 to get here, but she was working late shift that day. “I want to talk to her about Pretty Little Liars! I don’t have anyone to talk to about it!” I cried to Glenn. “There’s a reason for that,” he muttered.
  • Glenn and I started to have a normal conversation the other day about old TV shows. Turns out, we both used to enjoy the Robert Urich-fronted television masterpiece known as Vega$. But then I told him about the time in high school when FX was having a marathon and I decided to have an open-to-the-public viewing party (unbeknownst to my parents, neither of whom were home that day), for which I hung balloons and signs advertising said party at the end of my street. “No one came, though!” I told Glenn sadly. “Wow. So basically, you’ve always been strange,” he muttered. Way to ruin a nice conversation!
  • Pretty sure I know which merch booth Chooch is going to rush to at Warped Tour:


  • Speaking of Amber1, I was in the kitchen yesterday just in time to overhear a conversation she was having with my nemesis in the travel department about the cars that they drive. “Do you have a ‘Twins’ decal on the back of your car?” Travel Lady asked Amber, who said yes, and it turns out that Amber apparently flipped her off on the road the other day and Travel Lady was calling her out on it, IN FRONT OF THE DIRECTOR OF OUR DEPARTMENT who just happened to also be in the kitchen. OMG it was hilarious (for everyone but Amber)! Amber’s face was so red and she kept apologizing, but Travel Lady was just laughing about it. I don’t thin she really cared about it at all, but Amber was humiliated and felt terrible. After Travel Lady walked away, Amber said to me, “Well, she pulled out in front of me and then drove really slow! And she was on her phone!” Hey, that seems like a valid reason to me to give the middle finger some exercise. Amber continued to stress over this for the rest of the afternoon and then Todd and I tried to get her to send Travel Lady an Edible Arrangement. The general consensus was that she should have just said it must have been her twin.
  • So, Alex Lyman from Slaves (a/k/a Jonny Craig’s Band of Douchebags) was allegedly stabbed for “wearing skinny jeans”. Am I just as much of a douchebag as the rest of them for reading this “news” and immediately wondering what exactly he did to provoke this, if he even was stabbed at all? That guy is just such scum. And I’m tired of Alternative Press being the equivalent of TMZ anymore. Like OMG did Ronnie Radke rape someone? How about stop even giving that piece of shit publicity. God, there is so much good music out there but you’d never know it if you relied solely on Alt Press, and it breaks my heart to even write those words because that magazine used to be a monthly Bible for me. Not no mo’.
  • Here is one of my favorite places downtown to walk:

  • Please stop calling blueberries “bluebs.” They’re offended. And you sound like an asshole.
    • Just kidding. I don’t give a fuuuuuuck what you call those blueturds.
  • One of my favorite things that happened at work this week was that we had a project to work on and I was the only one who did it all perfectly! Everyone hated me that day. Some even more than usual.
    • I was rewarded by having to fix all the wrongly-done ones.
    • But I got to spend all day reminding Glenn that I’m perfect, so….it all balances out.
  • Last Saturday, I discovered that I have a pretty powerful right hook, which I discovered when I jokingly went to punch Henry, but over-swung and jabbed myself in the jaw with my phone. It still hurts. :(
  • Chooch heard Mazzy Star for the first time last weekend and became inexplicably repulsed.
  • Allison just came over to see if any of us had been outside recently because she wants to know what the weather is like, so I made Glenn look on his weather thing, and this lead to him advising us that one of the escaped convicts in New Yorkwas apprehended and shot dead — WITH BULLETS. (AHHHHHH!)
    • I did not know that there were any escaped convicts until just now because I deleted my CNN app after determining that it was making my life more depressing. So now I pretty much don’t know anything that’s going on unless I accidentally see it smashed in between cat memes and Magic Bullet (AHHHHHHHH) recipes on Facebook.

I don’t think I have anything else to say. Maybe, instead of politely declining, I’ll finally attend one of the tea parties my imaginary friends are always inviting me to and then I can pretend this is Yelp and write a review of whatever steampunk tea factory we wind up at. If you promise to come back, I’ll save you an absinthe scone. You might have to pick out the watch gears and antique bullets (AHHHHHH) though.

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Jun 252015

Please get your back thrown on this Thursday to a repost of my interview with Henry regarding his day at Warped Tour in 2011 because Warped Tour is exactly two weeks away and I honestly can’t focus on anything else right now, good lord.

Ahhhhhh! Old Folk approaching! Hide your hard candy!

Have you ever wondered what Warped Tour is like for a super old man who shuns fun and is the Poster Elder for “surly”? You’re in luck because my very own, personal Old Man let me ask him some questions about his day spent outside in 95+ degree heat surrounded by machine-gun drumming and exploding-node screaming.

But he had this girl by his side, so how terrible could it have been, right?


Erin, pen in hand: Why do you wear a bandanna to Warped Tour? Is it because you think it makes you look hard? (Because it doesn’t.)

Henry, sitting next to me on the couch and glaring: Because it was hot. [Thinks deeper.] And it keeps the hair out of my eyes.

Erin: So does a hair cut.

I really believe he wears a bandanna because he feels like it will repel scene kids. Like if they see some dildo approaching them with a cotton condom fastened around his head, they’ll think he’s security or a member of a biker gang, when meanwhile he drives a Ford Focus and looks like the treasurer of a washed-up Village People fan club.

Erin, pressing the issue because I know people care about Henry’s head toppings: And how do you decide what color to wear?

Henry, mumbling as he works the TV remote: Whatever matches what shirt I’m wearing.

Erin: Now did you learn that on the “Blue-Collared Beverage Warehouse Manager” episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy?

Henry, actually looking away from the TV for the first time since this writer has been asking questions: What? What the fuck are you talking about? [One corner of his mouth tugged up a bit, which constitutes as a SMILE in the world of bearded douchebags.]

Erin: Is it true you bought a graphic tee at Target specifically for Warped Tour so you’d fit in better and joke-block me of non-descript t-shirt fodder?

Henry: No. I didn’t buy ANYTHING for Warped Tour. [Scrunches up face in irritation, which most people would take as the universal visage for constipation.]

This is a complete lie. He bought sun screen and individually-wrapped prunes.

Henry, reaching in his Old Man Cargo Shorts for an individually-wrapped prune. Note his expression: It never changed.

Erin: What was your favorite band of the day.

Henry: [LONG PAUSE. I thought he was thinking but really was watching Good Eats.]

Erin: [Stabbed him in the ribs with elbow.]

Henry: What?! [Notices me scribbling down my own answer on his behalf.] What are you writing? Don’t write Dance Gavin Dance, because it wasn’t.

This means it was Blood on the Dance Floor. Scantily-clad scene posers get him every time. Jeffree Star and all that.

Erin: Speaking of Dance Gavin Dance, what are your thoughts on them?

Henry: I don’t HAVE any thoughts on Dance Gavin Dance.

Maybe not, but he definitely dreams about them considering their last album is on constant repeat in the bedroom.

Erin: Not even on Jonny Craig?

Henry: Jonny Craig is a douchebag.

Erin: If you had to spend money at one merch booth, which would it be?

Henry: [Seriously considering for entirely too long.]

Me, noticing the small puff-shapes his lips are making: Hello! You’re falling asleep!

Henry, jolting at my shrill voice: No, I was thinking. And the thinking is putting me to sleep. [I have to repeat the question.] It would probably be what you want since I get no say in anything.

What he meant to say was, “The first merch booth we come across that has booty shorts in my size. I hope it’s Blood on the Dance Floor or Black Veil Brides!”

Henry’s “I ain’t got my dentures in & I just spent the last of your money on a Powerade” face.

Erin: How disappointed were you that Craig Owens (singer for D.R.U.G.S.) darkened his hair?

Henry: A little disappointed.

It was the FIRST THING he noticed when Craig came out on stage.

Erin: Does that make him less attractive to you?

Henry: No.

OMG that means he’s attracted to him in the first place.

Erin: Why wouldn’t you stand near me during Of Mice & Men? Was it because you didn’t want to get your face melted off?

Henry: Too many kids around me.

Lies. Here are my top 3 reasons why Henry took 87 giant steps back away from the crowd:

  1. He didn’t want his pedophilia to be that transparent.
  2. He doesn’t love me enough/have enough upper body strength to keep bodies from falling on my head, which won’t matter if he’s a million feet away from me.
  3. He’s embarrassed to be seen too close to me. (Because I cry during shows, but mostly because I’m ugly.)

Erin: When you saw that girl pass out right before Set Your Goals, why didn’t you spring into action? Isn’t that what they taught you in THE SERVICE or were you too busy trying to look like Erik Estrada instead of attending all the Be a Hero seminars?

Henry: [For real sleeping.]

Erin: [Repeats question, and by that I mean I kneed him in the nuts.]

Henry: [Started to “think,” then fell back asleep.]


Henry, waking up abruptly: I don’t know! Because there were already people “springing into action!”

Or! Because he left his balls with his ex-wife.

Someone for Henry to share his prunes with!

Erin: Any tips for other elders attending Warped Tour? And don’t say, “Don’t go.”

Henry, about to say “don’t go.”: Damn. Bring plenty of money so you don’t have to drink tap water. Leave your girlfriend at home.

Erin: And don’t forget your joint cream.

Henry, forgetting that he’s like 80 years old: What do I need my joint cream for?

Erin: What was your favorite part of Warped Tour and don’t say leaving.

Henry: But that was my favorite part. Probably watching all the people run when it started to rain even though they were in bathing suits.

Translation: Watching all the wet under-age girls run in bathing suits. See? Warped Tour’s not all that bad!

Erin: Least favorite?

Henry, with no hesitation: The heat.

Erin: What heat? Don’t men of your blue-collared ilk spend their childhood summers working in my rich relative’s yards for milk money? You should be acclimated to the heat by now.

Henry: Whatever, asshole.

Erin: If (Warped Tour founder) Kevin Lyman named a stage after you, what bands would you demand be on the lineup? And don’t say Judas Priest.

Henry: I don’t know.

Ew, I hate when he says that. Especially when his voice cracks in irritation like he’s some pissed off Peter fucking Brady.

Erin: Henry, I will kick you in the nuts.

Henry, clearly peaced out from the interview process like a little prissy Girl Scout: I don’t know what bands I would have!

This means he’s too embarrassed to admit to the Internet that it would be Creed, Nickelback, whatever nü-metal bands are still together, and a Carpenters cover band.

Erin: Are you looking forward to next year’s Warped Tour?

Henry: I never look forward.


Thank you for reading this lame interview. Clearly I need to find more interesting subjects. You suck, Henry. Learn some words!

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Jun 242015

You know how I’m always mentioning that I keep the radio on in my bedroom at all times because I need to keep tabs on current music even if I don’t like it because I’m obsessed with knowing shit about all music? Well, every now and then I’m rewarded for enduring the occasional Meghan Trainor ear-slaughter and one of those times was last April when there was an ad for a short-run, acoustic-electro Smashing Pumpkins tour. When I heard the bodiless voice-over man say that it was at the Carnegie Music Hall in Homestead, I thought I heard wrong. So I googled and sure enough, it was Trufax up in that radio piece.

“I need to go to this,” I said to Henry in the urgent whisper I adopt when things are Urgent and need to be Whispered.

Henry was basically like, “Godspeed” and went to bed.

Tickets went on sale ta few days later and I was kind of hemming and hawing because we had Chooch’s birthday party coming up and I didn’t want to be spending too much money, but then I was like FUCK IT I WILL JUST GO ALONE. And since I waited an entire 2 hours after tickets went on sale (due to the Hemming and the Hawing), I wound up with the last seat in the last row in the balcony. I WILL TAKE IT, I shouted to the universe and then yelled for Henry to fetch me my wallet.

I never heard or saw anything advertising this show again after that. To the point where I was actually concerned that it was some kind of hoax. Like maybe it was actually a Smashing Pumpkins cover band? But I guess that’s kind of what the Pumpkins are these days: a cover band fronted by Billy Corgan. But still, I was willing to pay to see this, no matter who was standing up there on that stage with him.

The show was Tuesday, June 16 and people at work were excited that for once they actually knew a band that I was going to see! It was pretty adorable.

I was kind of bummed that I was going alone, but at the same time, I needed this night. Going alone was probably the best thing for me, in all honesty. Plus, I was happy to have a seat. I’m not usually down with seated events, but it had been A Day.

As soon as I entered the Music Hall, I made a beeline for the makeshift wine bar and ordered a double grigio and then headed up to the balcony, where the usher asked me if I was with the man behind me and I haughtily responded, “Nope. I’m alone.” Now show me to my fucking seat!

I was actually pretty content with my seat. This wasn’t something that I felt the urge to be right up front for, and I was happy that I was, as previously stated, the last seat in the last row, next to a wall, and the broad who sat next to me was older and extremely inoffensive (and she disappeared after the first few songs and never returned). As were just about everyone else in the chunk of seats below me. And even when the seat in front of me was claimed, I could still see just fine.

Katie Nash was already playing when I got to my seat, and once her set ended, the next band, Yoon Do Hyun, started within 10 minutes. I love a flawless transition!

Yoon Do Hyun is a Korean rock band, and their English was adorably shaky. I didn’t really know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t the singer opening his mouth and letting out an Elvis-esque croon. Fuck, his voice was huge and unexpected. I really enjoyed these guys, and their set was a very appropriate length.

Right around 8:30, Billy walked onto the stage alone and the whole room just lost their fucking shit. It was really intimate, being in this small venue with what I would honestly consider one of the greatest singers of my generation. He sat down at a piano and began to play “Tonight, Tonight” and again — everyone lost their shit.

And then like clockwork, the Fashionably Late squad all showed up, causing the ushers to have to run around with their flashlights; people having to stand up to let these tardy assholes get to their seats; and the obligatory angry murmurings that arise when the rest of us, who got there ON TIME, had to have our views obstructed.  I guess when you’re old and rarely attending shows anymore, all manners and couth go out the car window on the wings of the latest Taylor Swift song playing from your radio. But, that was the only lowlight of the whole show, so I can’t complain too much. The lady two rows in front of me was doing enough of that for the both us, and I loved her for shouting, “WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!?” to the older people conversing loudly across the aisle, like they were having breakfast at Denny’s and not listening to Billy Corgan perform some of his best songs.

WHY!? Why pay $50+ for a concert ticket if you’re just going to TALK during it? I will never understand what it’s like to be someone who only attends shows for the novelty of it all.

Anyway, Billy performed the first handful of songs alone, and then his current guitarist joined him for most of the rest of the show. Katie Cole filled in on bass and guest vocals here and there, and because of this, a rumor started that she was officially the new Smashing Pumpkins, but according to her Facebook page, this is untrue. I’m not sure the Pumpkins even have an official bass player right now and to be honest, I quit keeping up with the ever-revolving door of band members a long time ago. It’s too much!

Parts of the set were electro, and while I noticed that people were bitching about that online (OMG he used a drum machine!), I enjoyed that aspect of the night as well. Especially “Ava Adore.” That is my fucking jam. And anytime I hear “Today,” I am back in middle school, listening to mixed tapes sent to me by pen pals way cooler than me and telling my mom that I need to go to Waves and buy Siamese Dream on the ASAP.

“1979,” and I’m back in Lisa’s parents’ minivan.

Really though, who doesn’t at least love ONE Smashing Pumpkins song? (If more than 5 people read this blog, I could anticipate an influx of comments informing me of people who don’t like at least one Smashing Pumpkins song. “The lunch lady at my junior high.” “My neighbor’s drug dealer, Kemo.” “Probably all of Billy Corgan’s ex-lovers.” “Your butt.”  OK I GET IT.)

There was only ONE SONG in the entire set that I was like, “Nope. Nopenopenope. LALALALALALALALALA. *fingers in my ears*” and that was motherfucking “Landslide.” I hate that song with such a passion. I hate the original Fleetwood Mac version (and no, I don’t hate Fleetwood Mac, typically). I obviously hate the Dixie Chick’s cover. I would wager that I would even hate a rendition by The Cure. And I’m sorry, Billy, but I hated your take on it too. I just HATE THAT EFFING SONG.

My mother may or may not have something or a lot to do with that.

Here is the set list for anyone who cares:

  • Tonight, Tonight
    (piano solo)
  • 99 Floors
  •  Today
  • My Poor Troubled Heart
  • Freedom Ain’t What It Used to Be
    (Zwan cover)
  • For Your Love
    (Zwan cover)
  • Drum + Fife
  • A Stitch in Time
  • Mayonaise
  • Prairie Song
    (Billy Corgan song)
  • Jersey Shore
  • Sparrow
  • Perfect
  • To Sheila
  • Behold! The Night Mare
  • For Martha
  • Blissed and Gone
  • Ava Adore
  • Now (And Then)
    (Billy Corgan song)
  • The Crying Tree of Mercury
  • 1979
  • Run2Me
  • Pinwheels
  • Stand Inside Your Love
    (duet with Katie Cole)
  • Landslide
    (Fleetwood Mac cover)
  • A New Poetry
    (Zwan cover)
  • Encore:
  • Spaceboy
  • I Am One
  • Siva
  • Rhinoceros
  • Bury Me
  • Snail
  • Crush
  • Suffer
  • Snail
  • Tristessa
  • Window Paine
  • Daydream
  • Geek U.S.A.
  • El-A-Noy

So that whole Gish teaser during the encore was allegedly spawned because some guy down on the floor was being an asshole and pissed Billy off so he was like, ” I am only going to play 10 seconds of all these songs, fuck you.” There were several times during the night when he would sarcastically answer someone’s heckle-like demand with a sardonic, “Whatever you want, buddy. I’m here to serve you.”

What an odd, beautiful creature Billy Corgan is. I was really happy, and—-dare I say it?—-#blessed to get to hear these old familiar songs performed this way. The evening, those 2 and a half hours of gorgeous music, relaxed me in ways that a day at the beach never could. I’m getting pretty good at doing things alone. Between this and seeing the Kurt Cobain “Soaked In Bleach” docudrama the night before, I have been feeling super nostalgic for my teen years lately, bouncing back and forth between gangsta rap and then, anytime I was in Lisa’s car (which was A LOT), alternative. I guess all I need to do now is revisit some old Scarface tracks.


The best part about all of this is that, after hearing me, all hyper and buzzing from the latest concert-high, spasmodically recounting the show to Henry, Chooch expressed interest in hearing their music. I YouTubed some of their videos for him and he asked me a lot of questions, like, “So, what? Is he like a vampire or something?” because I guess Billy is just too pale for Chooch’s comprehension. And then I brought out my Mellon Collie double CD and The Aeroplane Flies High boxed set and he started pulling out liner notes and basically devouring as much as he could. The next night, I walked past him while he was playing whatever stupid game he’s into at the moment on the computer, and I realized that he was listening to “Bullet With Butterfly Wings” on Spotify and softly singing along.


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Jun 232015

This past weekend, you might remember, was Father’s Day. So here are some fatherly Henry bombs for your viewing pleasure(ish).

The “Riding the Shuttle to the Lavender Festival, What Is My Life” shot.


The “‘I Turn My Back For One Second To Treat Myself To Lavender Refreshments And You Fuckers Are Off  Cutting Fresh Lavender In a Muddy Field And I Can’t Believe Some Woman Gave You Assholes Sharp Scissors, How Much Is This Going to Cost Me Anyway??'”


The “Doo-Do-Do-Dooooo Behold the King of the Lavender Festival” shot.



The “‘Does This Necklace Make Me Look Pretty?'” shot.



The “‘The Lavender Festival’s Portapotty Is Surprisngly Fancy'” shot, followed up with the “‘Cleanliness Makes Me Sad'” shot.


The “Father’s Day, Schmather’s Day—Bitch, Get Us Food” shot.






The “It’s Father’s Day, Treat Yo’self To Pizza and a Soft Pretzel, Henry” shot.

The “Being Father of the Year By Throwing Away Our Trash To Prevent Us From Injuring Ourselves On/Falling Into the Garbage Can” shot.

The “‘Sure, I Promise I Won’t Eat Your Banana Split Dip n’ Dots While You Ride the Spider, Chooch'” corrupt father shot.

The “Wondering What It’s Like To Be the Kind of Father That Gets To Do What He Wants On Father’s Day” shot.

The “Using Henry As a Pillow While He Thinks About All Of the Things* He’d Rather Do On Father’s Day But Instead Had To Drive 2 Hours To Go To An Amusement Park Where He Won’t Ride Anything” shot.

*(Sit at home in his underwear, watching CSI; eating beef jerky under a tree while proficiently identifying overhead aircraft;  baking things with lavender; porch-hangs and pepperoni rolls with Hot Naybor Chris.)

The “He’s Only Smiling Because He’s Thinking of Ordering the Father’s Day Ribeye Special” shot. (SPOILER ALERT: He just got a burger.)


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Jun 222015


Incredibly, Chooch agreed to an impromptu photo shoot today when I came home from work and didn’t even ask for money or Skylanders in return. And I know exactly why.



Chooch has a “girlfriend” apparently. She’s someone from his class and before school ended, they exchanged Instagram names. So now he’s all about pictures of himself, so that he can post them and then tag her to see if she’ll say anything. Usually it’s things like, “You’re weird.”


So he was like, “Yeah let’s do this thang.”


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His go-to pose.

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His hair combined with his loud mouth make it easy to keep tabs on him when he’s out and about.


Obligatory Flock of Seagulls shot.

In other news, taking in-focus photos is becoming increasingly harder for me to accomplish because my eyesight is getting so horrible but I still haven’t made an appointment to get them checked because I LIVE DANGEROUSLY. Also because I constantly forget to do adult things.

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Jun 212015

Here is a thing you should know about me in case you’re ever trying to really butter me up (or poison me) by sending me baked goods: I LOVE LAVENDER-FLAVORED FOODS. A few springs ago, Caribou Coffee used to have a lavender latte and it was fucking dreamy but then it went away and I got bug-eyed looks from baristas every time I asked for it after that. (Thank god for Monin syrups and Henry’s basic kitchen knowledge, because he has been known to whip me up some lavender simple syrup when he’s trying to keep me from leaving him for someone more age-appropriate.)

My friend Kara alerted me a few weeks ago to the Destiny Hill Farm’s lavender festival in Washington, PA. I forwarded this news along to Henry who didn’t even question it because he knew that taking me to this was essential to my existence. So that’s what we did yesterday and Chooch was PISSED because it required being in the car for like, 45 minutes, god forbid. But he’s really into the Smashing Pumpkins now so listening to Mellon Collie and reading the lyrics kept him quiet.

I know: a lavender festival seems like such a plebeian event for me to attend, right? But you know how I am with things: I either REALLY LIKE THINGS to the point of restraining orders or REALLY HATE THINGS to the point of cease & desist letters.

I started screaming when I saw this sign and Henry was like, “OK ERIN.”

We got to ride a school bus! I LOVE SHUTTLING TO FESTIVALS!

I will try to make this short and sweet: I tasted lots of delicious things infused with lavender (and bought it all too), only hated one person (some overly-inquisitive broad who cut in front of me at the honey stand when all I wanted was a sample of the lavender honey but had to stand there and listen to her ask 87 questions about raw honey and I was like “I’M SORRY BUT THIS IS NOT A LECTURE HALL DO YOU WANT A SAMPLE OR NOT?), ruined a pair of TOMS in the soggy farmgrounds, and managed to apply TEAMWORK with Chooch in order to cut our own lavender without the assistance of Henry (we wandered off without him and then he couldn’t find us and was pissed because OH LOOK WHO’S LOST NOW!), and basically felt like I was floating on a giant lavender-stuff satchel. It was a dreamy kind of day.

I ATE THIS! HONEY LAVENDER GELATO! My god, it was like the Garden of Eden was melting upon my sinful tongue. I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS. Lavender makes my brain shut down.

This was the exact moment that Chooch saw two girls around his age, giggling and wearing crowns of lavender. He looked at me and mumbled, “Shut up.”


Chooch was fine until he ate a sample of lavender fudge that burned his throat, so then he spent a good portion of the time there wearing his thespian cap. He was miraculously cured when we found a baby donkey to pet, though. But then later, we were sampling balsamic vinegar and when the lady gave Chooch a sample cup of it, he threw it back like a shot before we had a chance to stop him. So that was A Scene.

Stoked for lavender.

We left the festival with Lavender sparkling wine, lavender fudge, lavender honey, lavender balsamic vinegar, bellies full of lavender lemonade & cookies, freshly cut lavender sprigs, and a purple beaded necklace! In addition to all of this, Henry also left with a headache spawned from all the times I screamed IT’S INTOXICATING! while shoving my lavender bundle in his face, and a newfound hatred of Kara.

I DRANK THIS LAST NIGHT. Not the whole bottle, even though I wanted to.

The only downside to the festival, other than ruining my TOMS, was that there was no lavender coffee! There was definitely a coffee vendor there, but it seemed to be offering just the usual suspects. Unless I missed it, but that seems unlikely since I’m never wrong.

Chooch had so much fun* at the lavender festival, that his hair turned lavender, too.

*(That might be a slight exaggeration.)


Today we are spending Father’s Day at Waldameer Park with our Henry who hates amusement! Happy Father’s Day to any dad who might be reading this dump.

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Jun 192015

Guys, hey guys. Over here, guys. I have some more succulents that are so stoked to meet you! (No, it’s not the serial killer greeting cards or the haunted house journals or the cemetery picnics, IT IS THE PLANTS THAT MAKE ME INSANE!) Anyway, my new thing in life, in case you somehow missed the botanical bulletin, is to adopt succulents and then spend a ridiculous amount of time fretting over the perfect container to pot them in, and then we all go outside on the porch for a photo shoot.

I think I already showed you guys Ted Nude-Gent in my introductory foray into plant-blogging, but here is a sultry, scandalous, seductive close-up. BOW CHICKA ALL DAY LONG AM I RIGHT.

One of the times I was outside potting my new acquisitions last weekend, Hot Naybor Chris’s wife came out of their house and was all, “Ooh, whatcha makin’?” So I was strong-armed into small talk, which at first was OK because OMG I love to talk about my babes. But then she was telling me about the plants she has potted on her porch, but they’re not succulents so I was like, “zzzzzzzzz.” Succulents or GTFO.

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Some aerial shots of Phil-Angie. I almost forgot his name the other day and I still feel guilty about it.


This prickly puppy still needs a name, so let me know if you have any suggestions!

Saturday morning, Henry was like, “Do you want to get your new phone or plants?” I looked at him like he was a doof-fuck for asking. “Plants,” I snapped. Obviously! So he took me to some nursery out in Allison Park. The drive there is only about 35 minutes but Chooch was SO PISSED because he hates being in the car and of course we weren’t telling him where we were going so when we pulled into the nursery’s lot, he cried, “Are you kidding me!? I hate my life.” But then there was a cat roaming around, so he was placated.


After adopting several potted pets from the nursery, we swung by a nearby Lowe’s, which had a much better selection than the one by our house, i.e. the one that bore my obsession. This one had a pretty large display, but I quickly noticed that most of them looked diseased and malnourished.

“They’re not getting enough sunlight!” I cried to Henry.

“There’s a skylight right above them,” he pointed up at the ceiling.

“LOWE’S ABUSES THEIR SUCCULENTS!” I yelled, making sure there was some asshole in a Lowe’s apron within earshot.

And then some motherfucker was blocking one side of the succulent stand. Just fucking standing around and chatting it up with some bitch he ran into, NOT EVEN LOOKING AT THE SUCCULENTS, like this was a goddamn water cooler. And the worst part was that in addition to blocking it with his stupid body, he also had a large cart that was jutting out, preventing me from getting as close I needed to be.


“Are you done?” Henry sighed.


So then I made exaggerated motions to illustrate how hard I was trying to reach over the man’s cart in order to grab a plant I had been eying.  So before this could escalate, Henry walked over and politely asked the man to move it.

Finally free to claim the plant I wanted, we headed over to the register. I was still mouthing off about how rude that man was.

Henry said, “You could have just said excuse me.”

“I shouldn’t have to! He should know not to park his cart in front of the succulents!!”

“OK,” Henry conceded in exhaustion.


I may have beef with Lowe’s, but at least they had this adorable Living Rock dude! I have been dying to add a Living Rock to my collection! (LOL, like I’ve been collecting plants for 15 years and not just two weeks.) I actually carried this guy home in my lap because he’s too adorbs and I wanted to stare at him with googly eyes.

I named him Little Otik, after Little Otik from the movie Little Otik. Google Little Otik if you haven’t heard of Little Otik prior to my mentioning of Little Otik.

Glenn was walking past my desk the other day and I stopped him. “GLENN, LOOK AT LITTLE OTIK!” So Glenn was standing there, looking at Little Otik, and I was looking at Little Otik, and then finally Glenn began shaking a stack of papers at me and said, “ARE YOU GOING TO TAKE THIS? I’M NOT GOING TO STAND HERE ALL DAY” and here, the only reason he stopped at my desk before going back to his was because he had grabbed my print job for me (I know, I was shocked too) and was waiting for me to take it.

“Oh,” I said sadly. “I thought you just wanted to keep looking at Little Otik.”

Later, I witnessed him getting INVITED TO A PARTY and when I whipped around in my chair to add my own disparaging remarks to the conversation, he told me to go home and play with my plants, which probably sounded weird to the guy he was talking to. (It was TERRY, if any of my work pals are wondering.)


DIEM AND CT! I named them after Diem (RIP) and CT from the MTV Challenge. They must not ever be separated.

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I was so excited about Diem and CT that I texted a picture of them to my brother Corey on the ASAP. He was excited but then he asked, “Um, how many plants do you have now?!”


Last weekend, I learned that my succulents are going to grow?! I thought that was why they had various sizes available, like S, M, L. All this time I’ve been picking the Size S versions of all my succulents because I thought they were midgets, and midgets don’t grow.



CRAZY PLANT LADY. Look at Panne over there in the right-hand corner! God love ’em.


Just hanging out with Suzy Banyon, Nipsy, Ted Nude-Gent, and Panne, no big deal.

In other, stupid plant news, I remembered to water my fledgling spider plant at work the other day. I hate him. He’s no succulent.


I still have more plants to show you! I’ll save that for another day. I don’t want you guys to get too excited all at once.

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Jun 182015

It’s Thursday motherhummers! I don’t know what that means other than I’m stuffing my e-BB gun with random words and firing it off into the world wide web. Or, you know, here are some bullet points:

  •  I mentioned the other day that I had a story about the whitetrashtastic lady in line at the Sleeping With Sirens show on Saturday, but I didn’t want to sully that particular post with the sordid details. Here’s why: Somehow, the topic of Walmart arose, I think the teenagers in front of her were talking about People of Walmart or something, and she took that as her cue to be a buttinsky*. “You know what my son does?” her gravelly words busted the kids’ faces with the essence of nicotine and IC Light. “He takes a bunch of dollar bills, right? And goes into the bathroom at Walmart, takes a shit and then wipes his ass with the bills. Then he goes back out into the store and throws all of the dollar bills up in the air and watches as people scramble for them. Then they has’ta peel the bills apart on account of ’em being stuck together with shit!” And then, while her small audience stood there with varying expressions of shock and disgust, her hysterical cackle faded into a coughing fit. “What did she say?” Chooch hissed to me. I just kept shaking my head and saying, “Nothing. Nope. Not a thing.” Like, if I found out my kid was doing literal shit like that, I would NOT be broadcasting it with a bunch of strangers, like he’s some fucking war hero.
    • *Motherhummers and buttinsky in the same post, I think I woke up in a G-rated movie.
    • I never want to touch another dollar bill ever again. DEBIT CARD FOREVER.
  • In case you were wondering, the answer is YES I’m still obsessed with succulents. In fact, I have a bunch more that I need to introduce to everyone but every time I sit down to do it, I feel inspired to scour the internet for more succulents! Yesterday, when it was time for my lunch break, I stood up and announced to Glenn and Todd, “I’m going to make some coffee and then when I come back, I’m going to write in my blog about my plants.” There were responses were a mod podge of “how exciting”s and “wow, I can’t wait”s.
    • Janna came over Monday night because we were going to see a movie but first I had to take her on a tour of all of my downstairs windowsills in order to introduce her to all of my babes. She did a good job pretending to be interested! Probably swigged some ‘tussin before she came over.
  • Speaking of movies and Janna, I went to see the Kurt Cobain docu-drama Soaked In Bleach at the Hollywood Theater, which is an independent movie theater a few blocks away from my house IN CASE YOU HAVEN’T GOOGLE STREET VIEWED MY ADDRESS in a while. Originally, there was only going to be one viewing of this film and it was last Thursday but I was working late shift. I was sad. But then Courtney Love’s attorney started sending cease and desist to the handful of theaters around the country who had the balls to show it and I guess some of the theaters actually backed down. But not my Hollywood Theater! They answered by offering three more viewings!
    • Janna was excited because the concession stand had cans of Surge. She ordered one and then had the nerve to ask for a cup of ice to go with it. It’s no Robitussin, but it’ll do, she said.
  • Oh right, so the movie! It was interesting. A lot of the information I already knew from the Kurt & Courtney documentary that came out in the late 90s, but this was one was still interesting because the whole film was from the POV of the private investigator that Courtney hired to “find Kurt” several days before his death. He had grown immediately suspicious of Courtney and began recording all of his conversations with her, and many of those were played throughout the film. I will say this: If you walked into that theater adamantly believing that Kurt Cobain shot himself, you would probably find yourself leaving with A LOT to think about. I was already part of the Murder Camp before seeing this and it just solidified a lot of my doubts about the case, and also made me really sad. I was 14 when all of this happened, and it was definitely one of those “Where Were You When…” situations for me. I’ll never forget hearing the news on MTV. I wasn’t a rabid Nirvana fan, but I liked them and Kurt was already such an icon back then, that it was surreal, so hard to believe that he was gone, just like that. And it makes you wonder what could have been….where would Nirvana be now if 4/8/1994 hadn’t happened? Would they still be active, making relevant music, or would they be washed-up? It drives me mad when I get sucked into these what-if whirlpools.
    • Chooch and I have been doing this thing where I pick an old(er) band and teach him about them, because I think it’s important to have a good musical foundation. He doesn’t have to like it, but he should still know about bands like FOR INSTANCE OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD: the Beatles and Joy Division, et al. A few weeks ago, I was teaching him about Tool and A Perfect Circle, and he said, “Ooooh, I know this song! It was on when Daddy was taking me to get a Skylander last week” and Henry just groaned, “He is so much like you.” Because I associate music with every little seemingly insignificant event in my life! So my point to this ramble is that seeing Soaked in Bleach inspired me to talk to Chooch about the whole Thing. I told him that the first CD I ever bought was Nevermind, after I got a stereo with a real life CD player on it in middle school. Chooch was like, “Seriously, you remember what your first CD was?” and kind of rolled his eyes like he doubted me, to which I cried, “Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I?! Music is LIFE!” He already knows of Nirvana, but not the Kurt and Courtney stuff, so we stayed up late last night and watched Nirvana videos on YouTube while I explained the whole story and then he was like, “Put on one of her videos” so we watched the video for “Doll Parts” together and Chooch decided two things:
      • “She sounds like Nickelback.”
      • “It sounds to me like she was mad. She wasn’t getting enough attention and was mad because Kurt was better than her.”  A+++
  • My Marcy tattoo has healed so beautifully and I could just cry!
  • I had a work dream the other night (who am I kidding: most of my dreams are about work; that might be a problem) where A-ron decided that he was going to start wearing suits to work. But he wanted crazy suits, so who did he come to? Me. “I want to be like the Don Cherry of [name of our dept],” he explained, and I was like, “K…but I’ve never made a suit before.” He was all, “It’ll be fine, be creative!” and when he walked away, Amber (Please Hurry Back From Maternity Leave)2 turned around and said, “Don’t do it. This will ruin your work friendship!” But I liked the challenge of making him crazy suits so I ignored Amber’s advice and got down to drawing and gluing things on two blank suits. One was a Pizza in Space theme and the other was this completely in-your-face shimmery, Liberace-Goes-to-a-Cookout suit in patriotic hues with hot dogs floating all over. I guess I was in a food-mood before I went to bed, who knows. Anyway, I was pretty proud of them but A-ron was irritated that I wasn’t working faster and that I had only completed two suits by this point, when I knew that he had a music video to film (????). I yelled, “I’VE NEVER MADE AN EFFING SUIT BEFORE, A-RON! MAYBE ASK GAYLE* NEXT TIME!” because she knows sew-y things, and he was just a jerk to me about it! And then he filmed his stupid music video, which was literally just him walking around in a circle while a generic beat played and a bunch of people from our department stood around cheering him on and I was like “FOR WHAT?!” Meanwhile, Todd was pissed because all he wanted to do was get into the refrigerator but all of A-ron’s suit-groupies were blocking the way. And I was supposed to get credit for making those dumb suits, A-ron promised me a shout out in the credits of his music video, but THERE WAS NOTHING. So the first time I saw him at work the next day, I had a terrible flashback and blurted out, “OMG I’m so mad at you!”
    • A-ron told me today that he heard Pizza Hut is coming out with hotdog-stuffed crust pizza. GET OUT OF MY DREAMS, PIZZA HUT.
    • I’m sorry, but those suits were fucking spectacular.
    • *Gayle knows how to do sew-y activities.
    • Speaking of Amber (Please Hurry Back From Maternity Leave)2 she came in to visit last week with her baby and I didn’t even hide from her like I normally do when people bring babies into work! It was nice seeing her and her little baby boy AND I WANTED HER TO STAY FOR THE REST OF THE DAY AND WORK.
  • I’M GOING TO A LAVENDER FESTIVAL ON SATURDAY! (You know, if it’s not storming all day.) Thanks to my friend Kara for the heads up — she’s always looking out for my interests! I can’t wait to choke on lavender-flavored foods.
  • But seriously, since we were chatting briefly up there about A Perfect Circle, how great was this song? I used to obsess over the extra “ooh” at 2:54 and Henry would cry exasperatedly, “Yes, I heard it! God!” I love when songs have that split second moment that throttle my heart.

  • We were at Lowe’s on Saturday buying succulents (duh) when I grabbed a bottle of flavored sparkling water by the register. “You don’t like that,” Henry said. This made me angry. Don’t tell me what I don’t like! I insisted that I did in fact like sparkling water, and then Chooch wanted a bottle too and Henry was like, “OK but you assholes aren’t going to like it.” Chooch took one swig in the parking lot and acted like he had imbibed straight battery acid. “THIS IS AWFUL!” he cried,  thrusting the bottle at me. I took a sip from my own bottle and Henry was waiting for me to gag and pantomime my own death, but I gave him no reaction. Then I proceeded to spend the next two days slowly finishing my bottle AND Chooch’s bottle because I am just that stubborn.
    • I eventually admitted that I didn’t like it though and Henry was like, “No shit.”
  • Me: “do you think your job will ever give you a heart attack?” Henry: “No, that’d be you.” Walked right into that one.
  • I changed my relationship status to “In an Open Relationship” on Facebook and HENRY’S ROOMMATE FROM THE SERVICE commented on it and said “Henry just buy the girl a ring already. You can have a long engagement.” Henry was like OMG PLZ DO NOT SAY ANYTHING TO HIM DON’T TALK TO MY FRIENDS!!!! The fear in his eyes was real. That was the closest any of his Friends From Another Life have come to interacting with me!

Ugh, I know I had so much more to tell you, Blog. Oh well. Bad day.


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Jun 172015


Daddy was so happy when he dropped us off because he didnt have to go. We were in line for an 1hr and 2 cars went in a 1 way lane like right toward each other and it was crazy and then some broad was talking to us about stuff. And I had garbage in my hand when the garbage dude came by and I had to chase him in front of EVERYONE! But then another garbage dude came by and I was so embarrassed.

1ST we saw Nick Santino. Kellen Quinn was watching it and the girls in front of us saw him first and then 3 seconds later everyone saw him. I liked his music it was cool and he did a cover of Nirvana. Kellen said “F***!” and Nick said “That’s a f****** bad word Kellen.”


2nd We saw The Summer Set and first they played Maybe Tonight. I sang along to every song but it was the song Legendary when Pittsburgh f***** up and didn’t sing the part. Legendary was the last song and I was so happy. I had to pee so I went to the bathroom with mommy because I didn’t know where the bathroom was. And when I went in the bathroom Josh the guitarist for The Summer Set was in there and if it was Brian Logan Dales the singer I would be like OMG WOW WOW OMG. So when we went back upstairs we lost our spot so we went in the back to watch Sleeping With Sirens. Oh yeah almost forgot when during The Summer Set Brian said look around around you and I waved at some girl. Oh yeah and when Kellen came out for Sleeping With Sirens everyone screamed and my ears started to bleed.  Then I got 2 shirts and McDonald’s since it was right next to the Altar Bar. Oh yeah it was my first time at the Altar Bar and it was fun.

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