May 162017
 

I was going to liveblog on the way to Clevelend last weekend because it’s something I really enjoy doing (I have a sickness) but then I just straight up didn’t feel like it. You know how it is- sometimes a girl just wants to listen to BIGBANG and stare longingly out the window, imagining that the generic Ohio scenery is actually some magical region in South Korea.

Sigh.

So yeah, no liveblogging. Who really cares how many tiffs with Henry and Chooch I can squeeze into 2.5 hours, anyway.

Some sicko does, probably. But just that one guy.

(Maybe it’s that guy Paul who snapped out a few years back and kept commenting on my blog just to remind me that I’m a cunt and that Henry won’t marry me because I’m fat and ugly. That guy was great. Yo, where you at, Paul?)

We left home around 11am I think. I was in a poor mood at first for no reason other than Bi-Polar, but I eventually eased into the day and quit threatening to fillet Henry’s ballsack with one single fingernail, so that was good.

For him, at least.

One particular moment of anger that I remember vividly was when I casually mentioned that some bakery account started following me on Instagram.

“Huh. They were on Food Network’s Cake Wars,” I said mostly to myself because I think this was when I was purposely trying to make Henry feel left out.

“What do they make?” Henry asked, trying to get involved.

“Well gee Henry, considering they were on CAKE WARS, I’m going to go out on a limb and say they make CAKES and not, I don’t know, salami fucking sandwiches.”

“Wow,” Henry murmured as I scowled out the window.

Sometime around noon, we stopped at a service place in Somewhere, Ohio.  Chooch won a yellow bouncy ball playing some idiotic arcade game. Which doesn’t seem like anything you’d scrawl out in a postcard to home, BUT…

Before we left the service plaza, I started crying about wanting an iced something or other, so we walked over to the Panera counter. I was just starting to order an iced chai latte when I saw in my periphery that fucking yellow ball squirt out of my Chooch’s hand, nick the corner of a counter, ricochet and soar mere millimeters past the Panera employee’s face, land in the bagels, bounce back out and graze the cookies on display, before finally hitting the floor and gradually slowing its roll.

The Panera guy had no idea any of this was occurring behind him, and I have no idea how he didn’t see the NEON FUCKING ORB as it nearly whaled him in the face, but I had to stand there, right in front of him, while my eyes were darting back and forth like I was watching Snookie and JWOW attempt to play ping-pong after a night of shots and smashin’ on the Jersey Shore.

And when he answered my question about almond milk, I couldn’t hold my laughter in any longer and it started to leak out of my mouth, at which point he smiled nervously and I know he was wondering if he was the butt of some mean-spirited joke, because Chooch was actually crying from the pain of holding back his laughter, and Henry said the other guy in line with us was openly laughing too.

Ahhhh, it was so stupid, yet hilarious.

How did the ball manage to not hit him even once? I mean, I know: because of Math Stuff. Shut up.

The Panera guy walked away to get started on my drink, leaving Chooch and me to stare helplessly at the yellow ball on the floor, separated by a counter. Eventually, some other Panera person walked over and I asked him if he could return the ball to us.

“I’m sorry,” he said, placing it into my hand.

“For what? It’s his fault!” and then Chooch and I lost it because this was such a stupid YOU HAD TO BE THERE scenario but it was endlessly funny to us. And now some Panera rando was apologizing to us for no reason! We must have rehashed it for the next two hours.

That would have been worth the postage of a postcard.

Right after, we pulled over in North Lima, which was totally poppin’, and ate lunch at C’s Waffles, your basic family restaurant in a tiny strip mall. But the service was great, the food was good, and no one turned and stared at us when we walked in like Large Marge had sent us.  I hate when that happens!

There was a family with four kids sitting near us and after observing them for a minute. The kids weren’t even being bad, but all of these scenarios of them rising up one day and taking complete control of the house started whirring through my mind and I felt panicked. I said to Henry, “I don’t think I could ever have that many kids. I’d feel too outnumbered, you know?”

Without looking up from his plate of breakfast fare, Henry sighed, “I have you and Chooch; I’m always outnumbered.”

Hahaha. It’s true.

One of the things I was really looking forward to doing in Cleveland because my life is so rich was checking out their Asian markets. Henry wanted to actually peruse their produce and whatever else might assist him in his kitchening, but I had only one purpose: to restock the Law Firm Candy Pumpkin. People have been getting snippy with me lately because I didn’t get a chance to candy-shop last weekend, so all the was left were the Mexican assortment that everyone has reacted very adversely to.

The other day, I said out loud, “What nationality of candy should I try to find next?”

Glenn said Iraqi, which sent me a googling spree, and at first I was like, “WOW IRAQI CANDY IS TIGHT!” but then things turned dark when I found an Urban Dictionary entry for “Iraqi Candy Shop.” Needless to say, I didn’t google to see if Cleveland had an Iraqi candy shop, and settled on more Asian snacks.

The place we went to was a LEGIT Asian supermarket, way bigger than the ones we have here in Pittsburgh, and Henry cringed when he saw the size of the candy aisle.

SO MUCH CANDY! I wanted to buy even more but Henry was like, “STOP BLOWING YOUR PAYCHECK ON CANDY FOR WORK IT MAKES ZERO SENSE.” This is how I buy friends, OK Henry?

Or lose friends, if you ask the ones who have bitten into some questionable sewer garbage in pretty wrappers.

But you guys, guess what happened next? We were in the random aisle with European candy and various beverages, when I started performing an intense HEAVY BREATHING.

“What?” Henry asked in a scared way when I made Crazy Eyes and shouldered past him.

GUESS WHAT I FOUND?!

OK I’ll just tell you: I finally found the Nongfu Spring BIGBANG teas that I have been searching for! Chooch and I went wild trying to find each member (“Did you get Taeyang? WHERE’S DAESUNG?!” while all the other shoppers were giving us the “OK, Koreaboos” side-eye. Henry was pretty embarrassed. But whatever, I got one of each member, plus two different G-Dragons and T.O.P.s and now I’m kicking myself for not buying more, at least an extra G-Dragon for Octavia. I’m the worst friend!

I’m sure we’ll be back in Cleveland soon though.

Meanwhile, I want to start a campaign to get the beverage company where Henry works to start distributing these. I mean, obviously 99% of the appeal for me is that BIGBANG endorses it, but the tea is actually so fucking good too! My friend Ronda asked me what GD tea tastes like and honestly, like sitting on a swing-set next to your crush on a cool summer night, and also peach oolong.

OH GOD, MY HEART.

img_1935

I brought one of the G-Dragon bottles to work and everyone is like, “….cool.” Whatever Amber, you know if there was a Dance Moms Nongfu Spring series, you’d collect them all!

After all of that hysteria, we took Chooch to one of the beaches on the outskirts of Cleveland and totally convinced him that Lake Erie was actually the Atlantic Ocean.

“But we’re in Ohio…” Chooch argued.

“Yeah, and the Atlantic Ocean….cuts through,” I answered like he was being so foolish for not believing me.

“Look there it is! It’s the ocean!” I cried, pointing out the window. After doing that four times, Chooch finally snapped, “OK! I know! It’s the ocean! You don’t have to keep telling me.”

Haha—suckeerrrrrrrrrr.

Then I made The Gifted One pose for a selfie with his Geographically Devious Parents. All of this happened after Chooch stalked a couple and their two collies before finally getting a chance to blurt out CAN I PET YOUR DOGS, a/k/a his catchphrase.

There was some broad who kept screaming HAYDEN at her small daughter whose name was, I guess, Hayden. Ugh, Chooch and I were not fans. And they were everywhere we went! Constantly in our way! Mom screaming at Hayden the whole fucking time!

We had enough of that fake ocean scene and moved on to my favorite store in Cleveland – Flower Child. <3

Chooch was like, “Oh, the store with all the old Playboys? OK, I’m in.”

This is one of those stores where I get to use my catchphrase a lot, which is: OMG PLEASE DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING.

And then every time I say it, I’m reminded of the time my grandma had a shit fit when we were in some glassware store in Italy and kept yelling at me to not touch anything when I WASN’T TOUCHING ANYTHING and then guess who knocked over a rack of breakable glass things? OH MY GRANDMA THAT’S WHO.

I’m waiting for history to repeat itself, is all I’m saying. Hopefully I’m in a dollar store when it happens. :/

There were a million things I wanted to buy….but G-Dragon tickets.

Worth it.

After inhaling the musty fumes of the 1960s, we met up with our friend Jason for dinner at Taco Tontos. I love Melt but sometimes it’s nice to mix it up a bit, I know you understand. So no gratuitous foodporn shots of mammoth grilled cheeses oozing with 87 ingredients this time around.

But this tempeh burrito was stuffed with creamy sweet potatoes and I gorged on the entire thing while divulging to Jason my past life as a yo-girl when I tried to join a girl gang, and my unabashed love for Toto.

(“Really? All you wanted on Record Store Day was the Africa picture disc?” Jason said, considering leaving our friendship to disintegrate right there in the pile of Chooch’s taco refuse.)

We also talked about Kpop, much to Henry’s chagrin.

“No, I want to know about light sticks,” Jason waved off Henry, giving me the OK to continue. What he did not want to know was how much our G-Dragon tickets cost, though.

I failed to get a picture of Jason because I was off my photo-stalking game, but here is a picture of Henry looking happy to have a friend.

This picture is a lie. That was mild sauce on Chooch’s chip because he’s not tuffenuff for the hot stuff.

Chooch and Jason argued over which dogs are better: Shelties or Corgis, and then we walked down the street to Wax Bodega, a record store owners by one of Jason’s Alternative Press friends. There was a pet boxer hanging out inside and Chooch spent the entire time trying to convince him he’s a Corgi.

Chooch is going through some things, maybe.

After saying goodbye to Jason, we walked around the neighborhood in order to kill time before the show. Mahall’s is right down the street from where we ate, so Henry didn’t want to leave and his parking spot, because those are the things that matter most to Henry, and probably other people in his demographic, as well.

Further down the street, Chooch and some guy dressed as a gorilla silently became best friends. Chooch and people in animal suits, man. The gorilla was trying to lure passers-by over to the BBQ shack, which was actually pretty adorable and made me feel like I was vacation. They sold soft-serve, so we made the gorilla’s day and popped on over for a cone.

(I mean, after we walked another block and Chooch imprinted on two stray cats in a parking lot.)

I was still really full from my burrito, so I asked if I could get the kids cone even though I’m clearly not 12 or under. The guy at the window acted like he was making a HUGH CONCESSION for me by saying, “Well….it is Mother’s Day….so, OK!”

(It wasn’t Mother’s Day, though!)

Henry said he was clearly going to let me have the kids cone anyway, but just wanted me to think he was a hero for bending the rules.

One could also argue that I deserved the kids cone because I have the accessories of a 12-year-old.

I thought that sign said “I go ape over the Gays” at first, like when someone’s Great Uncle Rupert tries to emphasize the fact that he’s not homophobic but chooses a very poor way to convey his sentiment. It made my ice cream cone taste awkward, with sprinkles straight from 1950.

Guys, this was the cleanest public restroom in a park that I’ve ever utilized. I couldn’t believe it. Also, the accessories of a 12-year-old.

And that’s all of the things, in GREAT DETAIL, that we did before going to Mahall’s to see Emarosa. Thanks for reading. Quiz to follow.

Choose Your Words Carefully