Jan 172018
 

The weather this past weekend was shit, but the weekend itself was THE shit. OK, maybe that’s being a little too hype, but it really was all kinds of wonderful for really no reason other than I got to have fun with my two favorite people (yes, it’s Henry and Chooch, ugh!) and it was just….really fucking nice. I do this thing where every day, whether I’m drying my hair or I’m out carousing the streets of downtown Pittsburgh on my lunch break, I recount in my head the things that are keeping me afloat. They range from the major ones (family, friends, health) to the little ones (whatever Korean food Henry is making for dinner tonight, watching some Running Man, my hair looks OK today) to the upcoming events (SOUTH KOREA, Chooch’s birthday, Warped Tour – the last one, sigh).

And I write about the weekends like this past one, so that on the days when no reminders seem to help override the death wish, I can revisit random posts on this blog and remember that things are not always bad and that there is so much worth living for. You do what you can, you know? There’s a lot of sadness, but this past weekend did not allow for much of that at all! I think it was just that we were, all three of us, in really fine moods. Like fucking stars aligning.

Most of Saturday was spent redesigning Valentines for our shops, with an obligatory run to Target because is it really the weekend without dropping  $$$ on shit we didn’t need at Target? The whole reason we went was because Chooch wanted to spend the money that’s been burning a hole in his wallet: some leftover cash from Christmas plus the money he’s been swindling from the neighbors by shoveling their short sidewalks. That kid!

I hate hate hate going shopping with Chooch when he has his own money because it’s always the same: he trolls the same three aisles for an hour, tries to latch on to another family (seriously, we always catch him sidling up to some other family like we’re not good enough all of a sudden!??!), and then ultimately doesn’t want to buy anything.

WITH HIS MONEY.

It was no different this time. Henry and I even left him for a bit and hung out in the food aisles, where I was bored so I started spinning around and then Henry was all, “REALLY” because he just doesn’t understand what it’s like to still be a kid, and then I saw really cool sprinkles and made the mistake of saying that they were my style, so then he was all, “REALLY. YOU HAVE A STYLE OF SPRINKLES.” God Henry! I guess it would be acceptable if I was saying things like, “This packet of gravy is just my style and will taste wonderful on the mashed potatoes I’ll be serving next to your bloody steak.”

Meanwhile, Chooch actually found something he wanted!

In the homegoods section.

A rug.

A fucking rug.

Granted, a really fucking cute ZEBRA rug.

And he got Henry to buy it for him, lololol.

After we checked out, Henry handed me the car keys and said he had to go to the bathroom, and to just go out to the car and wait for him. Of course we were bitching because it was taking him too long, but it was because he went back and bought me the backpack that I saw when we were about to check out. I mentioned that I wanted to buy it the next time we were there, and use it in Korea, and he actually listened to me!

HENRY IS TOTALLY MY STYLE.

We capped off Saturday night with another weekly hour of Family K-Kardio Night and it was just so great and I love my family! Seriously, there are not many other people in this world who would not only let me do my thing, but actually get into it with me. (The amount of Korean trivia that these two have absorbed through me is hilarious. Henry still sucks at pronouncing names though.)

Sunday morning, we watched some K-dramas, dropped Chooch off at piano and then did our weekly Asian supermarket run where Henry found some can of pear juice that made him so happy and he can’t wait to go back for more, and then we went rollerskating! Henry didn’t even bitch about it once the whole way there!

This is when shit got weird because I have apparently turned into a new person. Let’s discuss:

  1. The skating rink, Skate Castle, is in Butler, PA which is…how can I phrase this delicately, a Trump supporter garbage dump. LOL jk there are nice people who live there too probably but don’t get it twisted – that place is kind of backward.
  2. They played garbage music (that Justin Timberlake “sunshine in my pocket” bullshit noise-bomb played TWO TIMES in the three hours we were there, plus two old Flo-rida songs and many other songs from like 2010, so random).
  3. The rink light aesthetics weren’t very fancy.
  4. There were young children going every which way.

OK, so take these factors and then cut me into the backwoods mixture and you would expect this blog post to be one of my signature hateful rants that make people wonder how anyone could love me.

But you guys, no.

I loved this place.

I loved the whole afternoon.

I loved the people working there.

I loved that the first pair of skates I tried on actually fit me and didn’t do any weird broken shopping cart bullshit moves on me.

I didn’t even mind when a couple country songs came on, even though I did kind of feel like I had the shakes because I am sooo not used to hearing songs in English anymore.

I didn’t hate a single person on the rink, not even the two teenage girls in messy topknots and rollerblades who looked like total mean girls and probably for sure mocked me at least once when I wasn’t looking.

And the pizza was great! Just the way snack room pizza should be!

Here you can see that the lights were definitely lacking, but I couldn’t complain about that because the rink was nice and smooth….

….until it wasn’t.

So here’s the part of the story where FOR SURE the star character of this blog would have fucking raged her face off and made up brand new swears:

Everything was going swimmingly, I was skating with a bit more caution than usual though because I just had visions of me falling and breaking a bunch of limbs and being in traction for however the fuck long, not being able to do my kpop workouts, and going to Korea on a freaking stretcher. So I was really paying attention to my surroundings, especially the ground because you never know what those gross kids are going to track onto the rink.

About 60 minutes in, I stumbled a bit going around the bend of the rink. I caught myself and immediately slowed down and turned around to see what I skated over. Henry and Chooch were behind me when it happened, and we all scoped that area out again on the way back around. It didn’t seem like there was anything there, but I made a point of avoiding that spot for the next several revolutions.

For whatever reason, about 30 minutes later, I slacked off a bit and skated back over that exact same spot. This time, it was like someone grabbed the wheels of my right skate — it just completely came to a dead stop while the rest of me kept moving. It happened so fast that there was no way to possibly catch myself: I went smack down on my hands and knees full fucking force, man. I felt my teeth shudder, that’s how hard I hit. It stunned me, but I bounced back up right away, dusted myself off, and tried to laugh it off but good god damn that fucking HURT.

Chooch was right behind me when it happened, and god love him, he raced over to me and cried, “ARE YOU OK?!” I explained that it felt like my skate got snagged on something again, and he was ON THE CASE. That kid is so fucking loyal, I don’t know what I did to deserve him, you guys. He has my back!

Neither of us could find anything on that spot, and I shrugged it off and continued to skate.

RECORD. FUCKING. SCRATCH.

Did you read that!? Me, queen of temper tantrums, SHRUGGED IT OFF AND CONTINUED TO SKATE?

I didn’t even cry a little bit, or get mad AT ALL. I have no idea who I am anymore, but I think Henry and Chooch were both holding their breath, waiting for me to cause a scene or find a witch on Craigslist to dump a cauldron of acid frogs all over the rink or go full-fledged Tonya Harding and get some Butler henchman to break the knee caps of the rink owners.

But that didn’t happen.

I didn’t let it ruin my afternoon and went about my business with a smile on my ugly face….and a slightly sore knee….

Also, I loved that this joint had religious art on the snack room walls.

We’ll definitely be back.

The next day, I was prepared for some gnarly bruising, but my knees are completely fine somehow. However, the tricep of my left arm is definitely woke. That arm must have taken  the brunt of the fall but I barely remember because my life was too bust flashing before my eyes.

Choose Your Words Carefully

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.