Jun 062017

Today is dear Henry’s birthday. My oppa, my bae, my ride or die, my Papa H, my All Of the Things He Hates Being Called. I am going to try and be extra nice to him all day (which is easy since most of that day we’ll both be at work) and not boss him around (as much — I’m still going to want him to feed me tonight).

I think everyone knows how great Henry is, whether you know him IRL or just from watching me drag his name through mud on here over the years. But it’s still worth the reminder and really, who doesn’t deserve a nice shout-out on their birthday? (OK, there are definitely people who don’t, so no need to answer that. I THINK WE CAN ALL AGREE ON ONE PERSON WHO MATCHES THE HUE OF THE PHILADELPHIA FLYERS.)

(That’s ORANGE if you are colorblind.)

Let us pay tribute to the big guy by remembering some of the best frowns from the past year.

The “You Have Your Own Ice Cream, Step Away From Mine” frown.

The “Oh Boy, Riot Fest Again (but secretly loving it)” frown.

The “Resting Frown Face” frown.

The “Posing For a Picture Outside of Another Haunted House I Didn’t Go In” frown.

The “All We Do Is Eat Ice Cream” frown.

The “Nothing Impresses You Once You’ve Been in THE SERVICE” frown.

The ubiquitous “What Are You Up To” father of all frowns.



And here are some of Henry’s best moments over the years!

OK, that’s enough.

Henry, thank you for keeping Chooch and me safe and alive, and most importantly – spoiled rotten. I can’t imagine any one of my past boyfriends tolerating my obsessions and eye-roll inducing phases and my heart-wrenching imprinting on the entire country of South Korea. But you deal with it with panache and an absurd amount of patience. HOW.

Come on, guys — give it up for Papa H!

Feb 232017

If you’ve ever spent any decent amount of time with Henry and me, odds are you have seen him look like this, which I call the Please God, I’ve Cried ‘Uncle’ 87 Times, Take Me Away mode. 

This particular picture was taken in 2003 when Blake & Robbie (then pre-teens!) were in the car and we were screaming at people out the window until henry eventually rolled them up and locked them. :(

It hasn’t gotten any better, 14 years later. Now he’s got me and Chooch screaming like asshole lunatics. 

I love this picture. Anytime I make Henry look like this, where it appears his bandana’d spirit is trying to vacate his body, I consider that a huge success. 

Moments where he may find him in this meditative state:

  • When I decide I don’t like a certain vegetable anymore after he’s bought like, a bushel of it
  • Just now when he tried to take a blanket and I wrapped my legs around it because all I want to do is play games so he gave up and will sleep in the cold 
  • Watching me butter bread
  • During my intense apple phase
  • When Chooch loses another house key
  • When Chooch and I fight over control of Spotify in the car
  • When Chooch and I think we’re talking about people discreetly but….no. 
  • When Chooch and I tag along to the grocery store/Home Depot/the flea market/his work
  • The entire 8 years I obsessed over Jonny Craig
  • Anytime Christina comes back in the picture
  • Every concert ever
  • When Kara sends me some ludicrous auction full of old bumper cars
  • When Kara points out another clown picture I need for my collection and then it comes home with me
  • When Chooch won’t shut the door
Jan 142017


I’ve been waiting patiently(ish) for the go-ahead to put this on my blog (yes, sometimes I seek permission, can you imagine!?) but Henry is going to become a grandfather this year!

If anyone actually read my Holiday Hangs blog post last month, I quickly slipped it in there that Henry’s oldest son Robbie and his girlfriend Nikki are expecting twins this March!


^^^TWINS! My family has zero twins in it so this is super exciting for me even though I’m not actually going to be a real grandma or even step-grandma because Robbie’s dumb dad still hasn’t married me, so just consider me an imaginary grandma. A faux-ma. A dress-up grandma. A cosplay grandma.

An Erinma.

Robbie told me the news when I was at work one day and sorry co-workers, but I basically signed off for the rest of the day because I was too busy looking for baby-sized Chiodos and Dance Gavin Dance shirts. 

But guys, just like the best of the best infomercials….BUT THAT’S NOT ALL!

Back in October, at Demon House to be exact, Blake and Haley told us that THEY TOO ARE EXPECTING!


They just gave me the OK last night to put this out here on blog because you know how I am with this idiotic blog. I really wanted to write about it though because so many of my friends have watched Blake and Robbie grow up and it’s something that I’m extremely excited about — CHRISTMASES ARE GOING TO BE SO MUCH FUN!!! AND OMG, KENNYWOOD! I’M GOING TO BUY THEM CURE ALBUMS!

Oh yeah, and in case you were wondering, girls are clearly not invited to this family because all three babies are BOYS!

I’ve known Robbie and Blake since they were 10 & 8, respectively, and it’s been so awesome to see the great adults they’ve grown into (OMG I still can’t believe they’re adults….I can’t believe I’M an adult!). I know they’re going to make fantastic dads, and Nikki and Haley are going to rock as moms.  I can’t wait to babysit! And by that, I mean that Henry will do all the hard work / clean-up while I teach them about kpop and Italian horror. I’ll even let them sit on my good wheelchair!

This is just the best. Everything is awesome!

(Henry needs a better name than Grandpa Henry though…open to suggestions!)

Dec 212016


Sometimes (read: all of the time), all Henry wants to do is just relax. And that’s what he was trying to do on Sunday, when he stretched out on the chair and was just about to start scrolling through the nothingness of Pinterest on his phone, when my “HENRY IS TAKING A BREAK—ABORT, ABORT” alarm started sounding off in my head. This is always my cue to go into HIGH DEPENDANCY mode. Usually this entails:

  • jumping on him
  • screaming HENRY for no reason
  • suddenly needing him to go to the store for tampons
  • if he has the audacity to take Relaxing Time upstairs to the bedroom, I will sit downstairs and call him on the phone repeatedly
  • needing him to open a random jar of something
  • abruptly wrenching out of a nap to tell him something about MTV’s The Challenge or that MADDY LIM FROM KPOPX REPLIED TO ME ON INSTAGRAM (<———–this just happened at 12:30am and you better believe I shook the shit out of Henry and instead of just telling him, I made him LOOK AT MY PHONE and he was so scared that someone had died)
    • I wonder if he remembers this happening. I should call him at work to tell him again

But on this occasion, there were some random Christmas decorations strewn about nearby the chair, including a red garland that Lori brought to my holiday party last week which I knew at some point would come in handy, so it became clear that Henry’s sole purpose of laying on the chair was to be decorated.


Chooch made that Henry elf ornament around 5 years ago.


Henry would have a better chance being left alone if he parked inside a convention of timeshare salespeople, begging winos, and sex addicts whose type is Mountain Men. Maybe he should he just get a secret apartment. Or go to his mom’s.

Nov 252016

So our fridge was slowly dying because why not? ANYTHING GOES IN 2016!   Finally last week, Henry declared, “Ok we need to get a new fridge now before we don’t have one at all” and so he picked one out but I was like THIS IS NOT INTERESTING ENOUGH and then he showed me the prices of INTERESTING FRIDGES and I was like “SO BORING FRIDGE IT IS!”

But by the time Henry finally chose one that he felt confident would fit through the narrow kitchen doorway, it was Saturday and our fridge had officially bit it.  And then when Henry went to hit the big fat ORDER button, our electricity went out and he had to wait for the computer to reboot.


Let me use this space to type out my millionth Thank God For Henry shout-out of the year because if I lived alone, I never would have considered “cubic feet” and if the doors can come off and switch sides so that they don’t slam against the wall when opened. WHO WOULD CONSIDER THESE THINGS?! Henry would. That’s who.

If it were left up to me, there’d be an Erin-shaped hole in my kitchen wall right now and good luck watching TV around the too-big fridge chilling in my living room.

So the fridge was supposed to be delivered Monday night but Best Buy waited until 8pm to leave Henry a voicemail saying that “Oh btw the fridge is out of stock, see ya Saturday!”


Docile Henry called them back the next morning and got them to put us on some priority list but because it was out of stock, the best they could promise was Friday. So let’s just say we’ve been eating lots of noodles and take-out this week.

Uh, good thing we weren’t hosting Thanksgiving up in here! LOLFOREVER. LOLCORNUCOPIA. It would have to be a “bring your own food” event. Like, all of the food. We’ll provide the chair.


After not having a fridge for a week, the delivery guys are finally here setting it up which means Chooch and I are hiding upstairs, giggling like hyenas. Chooch thought they left at one point and went flying down the steps only to run right into one of them, who cheerfully greeted him with a, “What’s up, buddy?”

“Nothing,” Chooch said, before running upstairs where we cracked up together from our hiding spot in my room.

My favorite part was when Henry was outside talking to the delivery guys and Chooch opened my bedroom window and screamed, “YOU’RE NOT MY DAD!”

“I can just picture Henry down there with his hands on his hips, desperately wanting to help them,” I laughed.

“Yeah like, ‘hey man I like your tools—is that an x360 WRENCH?! Did you know I was IN THE SERVICE?!'”

We are fucking dying.  Now Chooch is creeping on the staircase, recording them.

Ok now they’re gone and we came out of hiding. Henry said I should have stayed down here because one of the guys kept talking about HOW MUCH HE LOVES THE ART IN OUR HOUSE.


Spying on the fridge delivery guy and Henry.

A post shared by Riley (@butt_jam) on

Yay, now we can go buy food! Lol, I mean yay now Henry can go buy food. And now I can hang my magnets back up!

Oh how I missed the sweet melodic hum of a fridge.


Oct 042016

People kept wondering on Sunday how many Pie Parties there have been so far, but no one guessed SIX. Which is the answer. Six.


How has this not gotten old yet?

Commemorative buttons for those who have been to all six!

I’ll be honest though: I didn’t want to have one this year. You know how you get sometimes, all beaten down by life and you’d rather just wallow in your tear-filled pit of despair but then you remember that being around your peeps makes you happy.

Plus, you know: pie.

So much pie!

This year, I decided to have a theme, so I picked “Exotic.” Give people some type of gyrating star to shoot for, you know? And if anyone opted to just bring a supermarket apple pie, they could always give it a stripper name. Like Brandylynne.

Or Candy.

Candy Apple Pie.


Of course, I found some pies for Henry to make which involved hard-to-obtain ingredients. He left the house at like 6am on Saturday in his attempt to find some kind of Asian purple sweet potato. God only knows how many parking lots he wept in before finally finding one.

But the other pie called for matcha (I mean, it was a Matcha Cream pie, so….) but he was all, “I REFUSE TO PAY $18 FOR MATCHA WHEN I ONLY NEED THREE TABLESPOONS.”

Wow. Slow your fucking roll, Hank.

I interrupted his pie-baking several times on Saturday because I was being a emotional vampire and needed hugs to stay alive. He acted like he was so put-out by this, but obliged every time. It was funny because he was wearing AN APRON.

Lol, Henry.

And then we got to have pizza for dinner because fuck if he was cooking after spending all day in the kitchen.


I took this picture before Henry dusted off the sign, which was coated with Trudy (our mannequin/Xmas tree) residue, i.e. green metallic spray paint dust.

After baking, I had Henry make a small pie marquee for the table but he ran of time so we just threw a strand of battery-operated lights on it for the time being. Next year, it’ll be better!

But this is what I mean — having a pie party seems really no-frills and low-stress but then I have to throw in a million elements after I get a “vision” and you know how my “visions” can be: what do you mean you can’t turn this basic park pavilion into a fucking SWISS CHALET BUFFETED BY EDELWEISS, HENRY YOU DICK?!

And speaking of pavilions! There are two that we use exclusively for pie parties and Chooch’s birthday parties, and both of them were already rented. Along with 80% of the other park pavilions. What the hell?! No one ever has park parties in October! Then I had a fleeting vision of every person in this town who hates me (oh, there are a few) having their own competing pie parties at the same time and I got so sad and then paranoid and then really fucking murderous.

But on the way there, we passed our main pavilion (the bae of all pavilions, if you will) and realized that it was being used for some asshole’s first birthday.

So, not a competing pie party.


Henry’s mom came with us and helped with set-up. I use that term loosely but she did more than, say, Janna who promises to help decorate every year and then comes 2 hours after the party starts, so….

Henry left to go get beverage and I decided I would use the portajohn while it was still fresh from Henry’s thorough cleansing. Right as I was about to come out, I heard a male voice and started to panic. Like, was some woodsman tying up Judy and Chooch, getting them ready to roast on the crappy grill that comes as a courtesy with the pavilions? Should I just stay inside the portajohn and pray that he doesn’t know there’s a third thick-thighed entree waiting in the wings?

Instead, I came leaping out awkwardly, like I was going to kick a bitch in the throat if I had to, and that’s when I saw some man doing pull-ups on one of the pavilion rafters, while Judy counted for him.


When he was done, Judy lasciviously asked, “What’s the encore?”

“I just keep moving,” he laughed in between pants, toweling off his older gentleman sweat and thanking her for letting him invade our pavilion before jogging off into the horizon.


Where did he come from, beneath the moist autumnal sod? A 1993 episode of Bodies In Motion with Gilad?

I’d have offered him so pie but he didn’t seem like the type to let that garbage near his perfectly curated, sweaty, glistening temple. 

SORRY. I think The memory of Judy’s lust intoxicated me for a second there. That guy was old as shit. 

While I fluffed the burlap on the pie table for the 87th time, Judy and Chooch argued to the death over a violent game of Perquacky, which I guess is like Boggle. We bought it at Goodwill specifically for the  pie party because I like to give people shit to do while eating pie, you know? That’s why I use craft paper in lieu of tablecloths and slap down a mason jar of mismatched crayons and markers on each picnic table.  So if you end up sitting with strangers, play hangman or something. JUST PLEASE DON’T LEAVE.

Most of last year’s decorations were salvageable! So that was more time available for me to make my pie party playlist which I will post here because it’s full of Phil Collins and you know, Dance Gavin Dance. You should know that this is the first year we remembered to bring a speaker thingie so that I could play music. Usually the soundtrack is just screaming kids and the ping of Henry sprouting new gray hairs.

LOL. There is no rhyme or reason to this mix. There never is with me.

People started rolling in at exactly 1pm, which I was thankful for because nothing makes a girl feel like a looooooser than when everyone is late to her party. (The pie party has a real relaxed revolving door feel to it though; people come and go all afternoon. THERE IS NO AGENDA OR SCHEDULE OF PARTY GAMES.)

In the next installment, I’ll show you pictures of pies and the people who ate the pies. Very complicated stuff. Blogging about it takes thought, a (chalk) outline, and a certain amount of alcohol. You wouldn’t understand.


Here’s a picture of Drew from Saturday. She just wanted to help with the decorations, you guys. (She was more help than my SON.)

Sep 192016

Much to Henry’s  inner joy and invisible mirth, yesterday was the third and last day of Riot Fest. It’s also the first day Henry and I fought– we made it so far! Specifically all the way to Rob Zombie’s set where I tried to lose Henry in the crowd like lol ok what is that going to prove. 

Anyway, we saw lots of bands so let’s see what Henry hated, didn’t like, and thought was “not too bad.” (Heads up, he was not impressed by anything on Sunday.)

  • The Bronx: They were good…? What?
  • Frankiero andthe Patience: I liked that too. (He sounded unsure. I don’t think he knows who this is.)
  • All Dogs: I don’t remember if I liked them. Apparently not. 
  • Dee Snider: Eh. Novelty. 
  • Juliette Lewis & the Licks: Interesting. Not too bad for what we saw before you got hangry. 
  • A Will Away: I only saw five minutes of them so I can’t make an informative opinion. (He was sitting alone by a fence for their first few songs, looking like an undercover cop.)
  • Thursday: I was never a big fan anyway so that didn’t change. (He breaks my heart.)
  • Bad Religion: Pretty much the same. Not a big fan anyway. 
  • Underoath: I don’t know. (He scrunched up his face and made a so-so motion with his hand.)
  • Deftones: I only knew their older stuff, so. Not bad. Can’t say I’m the biggest fan. (Well they played mostly old stuff, so…)
  • Rob Zombie: From what I heard I liked. (When I left him during Rob Zombie, he was standing by himself– obvi–and said that a younger guy was doing DRUGS next to him, but when he saw Henry, he got nervous and put it away. Like no duh, Henry—it’s because you look like a NARC.)
  • Sleater-Kinney: We walked through them? That was it. (Yeah right when they were commending Riot Fest for writing a No Harrassment policy – Henry hates when girls stand up for themselves and get all “lippy about their safety” don’t you Henry the Oppressor?)
  • Misfits: I don’t get it. 

And now is the time where we ask Henry what his dream Riot Fest lineup would be.  Lol, nevermind. Just Ted Nugent. 

Out of every band there this weekend, Henry’s favorite was “I don’t know.”

Henry got lemonade because “everyone else seems to be getting lemonade.” What a fucking conformist. 

Overall, Henry thinks that Riot Fest “wasn’t a bad weekend. At least it didn’t rain.”

Wow. I feel like a need a fucking butterfly net to catch all those words. 

Sep 132016


It was after 2pm by the time we were done being dummies at Vent Haven, which means we were precariously close to The Witching Bitching Hour, otherwise known as the hunger twilight, where Chooch and I morph from adorably angelic sweethearts into Regan and Damian in Warped Tour shirts.

Henry had approximately 37 minutes to find us a place to eat before the transformation was complete.

Back when Christina and I were friends, I used to visit her pretty frequently in Hamilton, OH, which is a few miles outside of Cincinnati. Since it was kind of on our way home, I suggested that we eat at Hyde’s, a family restaurant she took me to several times. I remembered liking the aesthetic and the pie, and was prepared to throw a fit if Henry said no, but then something miraculous happened:

Henry’s old SERVICE roommate Tim contacted him because he saw on Facebook that we were in the area! This put Henry in a great mood and he said YES to Hyde’s because now we needed to kill time in order for Tim to come out to meet us from wherever he lived in Indiana which is apparently close to Hamilton, who knew? (People who look at maps, I guess.)

Tim called Henry shortly after we arrived at a Hyde’s. Henry jumped out of the booth and went outside to answer it; I’ve never seen Henry run out of a restaurant that fast in my life, not even the time he dined and dashed at HOOTERS in 1992.

(Probably true?)

So then Mr. WE GOTTA GET HOME, NO MORE STOPPING! decided that after lunch, we would be meeting TIM at Jungle Jim’s!


Holy shit, I was so so excited, I could barely eat. Just kidding, I almost accidentally ate my hand while shoving my grilled cheese into my gnashing maw.

We had a really colorful waitress too who made sure she told us how busy she was every time she swung by our table, and I really liked that Real Talk aspect. I want to believe that we were the only table she confided in. I kept hoping she would talk shit on her other tables to us but she never did.

She probably made fun of me to her other tables though after I was a total tourist and asked WTF “sarasotas” are.

Turns out they’re just homemade potato chips served with BBQ sauce.

“That Yinzer bitch over there asked what them sarasotas is, can you imagine,” she probably said to the table of old bitches who came in for pie.

Chooch of course substituted a basket of sarasotas for his fries and Henry was very perplexed by this.

“Why don’t they just call them homemade chips with BBQ sauce, I don’t undertand,” he said.


One thing to note is that I honestly don’t recogize any of the scenery in Hamilton, for as many times as I have been there. Like, if you set me loose and said, “Find Christina’s old house or die” well I guess I’m dead. I don’t even remember the name of the street, and I used to mail her shit all of the time!

I think this is my mind’s way of protecting me, lol.

On the way there, Henry and Chooch argued over the fact that meth and methane aren’t the same.

So nothing about Jungle Jim’s was familiar to me but who cares because a REAL LIFE PIECE OF HENRY’S SERVICE PAST WAS THERE.

OMG you guys. My mind almost melted.

Chooch took these pictures because he’s my little spy in training.

Unfortunately, Tim and Henry talked about kind of boring things, mostly just catching each other up on their current lives. So Chooch and I were like, “Eh, screw this” and walked ahead of them, looking for the Romania aisle.

I never grocery shop, but Jungle Jim’s is huge and full of weird international goods and animatronics. It’s like Chuck E. Cheese for grocery shoppers. This is where I bought my first and only durian in 2004!


The last time I was here was August of 2005, when I was about 65% sure I might be pregnant. There was a fortune teller thing there, so I inserted my quarter and asked, “Hey, am I pregnant? Because I mean, I just turned down ice cream in favor of mustard, so….”

I don’t remember when her prediction was, which shot out of a slot at me, but GUESS WHAT I was definitely pregnant. Technically, this was Chooch’s second time at Jungle Jim’s, I guess.

My favorite thing about Tim is that he chided Henry about not marrying me so TIM, YOU CAN STAY.


Here’s a quick Henry Interview!

What did you & Tim used to talk about at night when you were roommates? GIRL STUFF?

Henry: I don’t remember. It was 30 years ago. Literally, 30 years ago.

So, you and Tim lived together in that place in Indiana?

Henry: In the trailer? Yeah.

Did he know you were the town Eunuch?

Henry, sarcastically I think: Hahaha, oh my god, you’re hilarious.

Did he know you were obsessed with being Erik Estrada back then?

Henry: Just answer it yourself. I’m not answering that. You’re making shit up as always.


Hmm, I don’t know Henry. That picture tells a different story. Speaking of stories, I heard you and Tim talking about the time you drove some guy’s car into a ditch. Talk about that.

Henry: It was 1986 maybe? We had just gotten off work at 7:30 that morning and went to the bar. We (guys I worked with, there was maybe 4 or 5 of us) pretty much drank all day. I had to run home to get something* so I borrowed Joe’s car and when I got close to my house I turned the corner too sharp and went into a small ditch on the side of the road. I blew out the tire and bent the rim and then I parked it at my house, took my car back to the bar without telling him I did anything to his. He didn’t find out until the next day when he came to pick it up and he found out it was damaged so I had to pay for it.

*(Probz porn to trade.)

Good, that’s what happens WHEN YOU DRIVE DRUNK, ASSHOLE. Anyway, that was a boring story. Did you ever take a bullet for Tim?!

Henry, in an annoyed/laughing tone: No. Psh, take a bullet for Tim….

What is your most vivid memory of Tim? Was he in Panama with you?

Henry: He was always working on his car because it seemed to always be broken. I don’t remember, I don’t think so but I can’t be sure. It’s possible.


Was Tim with you when you went to see CHEAP TRICK in Texas?!

Henry, appalled at this question for some reason: No! That was when I was in training, when I just got out of basic. Tim didn’t come in until my last year maybe…

(So, right before he went AWOL.)

Henry just said he’s not going to divulge the contents of their Jungle Jim’s convo, so basically this was a huge waste of time.


Somewhere outside of Columbus, I was imitating Henry so intensely, that Chooch laughed so hard he pissed his pants, which just made Henry even angrier because now he was going to have to stop somewhere so Chooch could change.

“We’re never going to fucking get home. Thanks a lot, assholes,” Henry barked, which just made Chooch and me bust out our sides from all the laughter.


When Henry set the GPS that morning as we left our hotel in Louisville, it told us we’d be getting home sometime around 4.

We got home just shy of midnight.

Good god, that was a fun whirlwind trip to Kentucky.


Jul 232016


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Chris & Monica,

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

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

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

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

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

But you hated Bled Fest – why?

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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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

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

2016 highlight:

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

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

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

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


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

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



Jun 302016

My obedient Henry picks me up from work everyday. I mean it’s the least he can do considering he makes me take the TROLLEY to work, all of the ughs!

Before you start thinking he’s wow so cavalier,  you should know that he doesn’t pick me up at my building — he makes me walk for that free ride. Not like, a mile or anything. But still! Whatever’s convenient for Henry.

When I approached him on Monday, he was out cold, snoring all up in our Cruze, with the window wide open, while people passed by. I walked straight up to him, reached through the window and clamped my hand around his neck.

He barely flinched.

Just slowly woke up all natural-like, as though this was his normal alarm clock, some violent BDSM version of a rooster crow.

Tuesday, same thing. But now his window was up:

The passenger side window? Wide open! Sun roof? Wide open! A carjacker’s delight! Might as well start sending out handwritten invitations with the make & model of our car and when it can be expected to be ready for the jackin’.

“I’m not worried,” he said in yawn-speak when I got in the car and began berating him. “There’s a cop right there.” And he pointed to some old security guard daydreaming in front of the fountain across the plaza.

And then he fell asleep at the show we were at last night. Boyfriend can honestly say goodnight anywhere. Chris has a picture of him sleeping at her wedding reception, for christ’s sake!

This concludes a blog post about Henry’s exposed, public sleeping habits. Thank you.

Jun 062016

Guyzzzzzz. Today is Henry’s birthday! But it’s just a random one (51) so I didn’t bother to do anything special. He can just re-read last year’s joint post where Chooch and I listed 50 things we like about the old man.

I’ll add one more for 51:

This morning, when Chooch pointed out that he had poison ivy on his ankle, I panicked and yelled, “WELL WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO!?” He calmly said, “Nothing. I already took care of it.” You know why? Because HENRY taught him how to take care of himself! Love that about him.

You know what would be amazing? If everyone texted Henry today. He broke his phone and has been downgraded to some early-2000s flip phone thing which makes reading texts extremely difficult. Now that he’s FIFTY-FIVE, he probably needs to exercise those eyeballs even more: 412-605-2143.

*SUCH AN UNDERRATED WORD. There was an episode of Battle of the Network Stars in the 70s where some broad says, “What’s all the hullabaloo?” like eight times in a row and no one bats a lash because it was OK to use that word back then. Let’s bring it back. I’ll make pins. You write the song.


May 302016

The day is nearly over, but I wanted to acknowledge Memorial Day by sharing a picture of my personal hero, Henry. Even though he refuses to share stories about his Service days, which really saddens me, he had his name on the side of an airplane so I guess he legit did some stuff when he was in the Air Force.

But you gotta figure, all that practice and experience he got during his time serving had really helped him survive his current station in life.

(Look, I’m just trying to not look at the TV right now because the Penguins give me heart palpitations.)

May 282016

Technically Henry still says he’s not doing this. LOL. Yeah right. Take it away, big guy! (This may or may not be ghost-written by a 10-year-old version of Henry.)

11:11am: it’s 11:11 and I wished that a sweet big assed girl would walk past the car, and she did! Best short vacation ever! Also I stared till she walked away, she looked at me and I raised my eyebrows up and down!

11:26am: standing in this bitchin’ line and I fucking hate concerts. I dunno if my son’s mother told you that, but If not I did. Anyway there’s a lot of sexy big assed girls Here people keep looking at me like I’m a pervert. I wonder if people think I’m a dilf!

11:52: Just exited the stupid school to finally plan my escape. Some stupid people from Artifex Pereo said “nice shirt to my son. There are some sexy big boob broads in the school. I think they winked at me! Mission Accoplished! Also I can’t follow directions my son’s mother yelled at me to keep the v.i.p bag but I threw it into our Lamborghini.

12:34pm: listening to shitty music while staring at big asses. Man, I wish I had a big ass I could squeeze it all day! mMmMmMm! Well I think my life is going a different direction! Pay 10$ for me to squeeze your ass as a massage!


IM STARING AT SOME BAND ASSES LIKE A PERV AND AN OLD PERSON! Also “enjoying” music at “Bleeding from my ears fest”

1:15: I went to the V.I.P Lounge so I can escape Artifex Pereo. There were some Staff members with gigantic asses! More to squeeze. My new store is PERVs Ass Massages! Hopefully the cop that comes to arrest me has a nice ass!

2:45pm: We met Artifex Pereo. And more asses! My store will be in Moon Township! Some sexy ass broad girl be havin dat nice ass yelled at my son’s mother’s son. I watched a band by myself! I was away from small ass girlfriend!

5:00pm:  I’m tired and I want to go home to mummy and my nipples. Everybody knows I can’t rub them here. I got meatballs on my shirt and my small ass girlfriend tried to take a picture of it for tinder.


Dreaming about dem asses at Bled Fest. There was someone tea bagging their car in my dream. I thought the car was a big ass broad. There is a water tower as big as an ass I saw today in the merch room.

6:20pm: big kick ball hit me while I was sleeping. I thought I was getting accepted by the big ass girls! My company is getting customers!

8:00pm: Today I saw some hot broads twerking their fat big juicy asses off while I ordered a pizza. Man life’s good! My small ass girlfriend was watching The World Is a Beautiful Big Ass Place! To teach how to twerk her ass off.


9:31am: I forgot to write about the FINAL MINUTES! But my son’s mother found out and said that she will tell the police but I didn’t care I wanted that big ass cop to arrest me! Anyway small ass girlfriend was watching Superheavenhell with all the big ass girls. But it was hot in there and I didn’t want to get sweat all over dat girls big ass.

May 202016


Don’t worry – we got butter beer on our first day at Universal. I’m not a n00b. It was exactly how I imagined it would be: butterscotch-y, creamy, a motherfucking delightful river of magic coursing down my gullet. It was so sweet that I had to share it with Henry, though.

Ugh, sharing.

At first, Henry was like, “IT’S BASICALLY JUST CREAM SODA, BIG DEAL.” Because he’s the Beverage Overlord, he thinks he can make these types of radical declarations amongst rabid Harry Potter fans. I was like, “OK Papa H, slow your roll. You’re about to get us flogged by all these newly-purchased Ollivander’s wands.”

Like, way to sour a magical moment, you know?! My first butter beer and Henry is trying to write it off as some basic A&W bullshit.

But this post is not about me and the way each sip of butter beer danced the Swan Lake upon my palate.

It’s about how not even an old miser like Henry could escape the pure joy and whimsy of the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. The butter beer alone made me him SMILE IN THE SHADOWS!

And by the second day, he was sneaking off to buy his own butter beer.


He wasn’t interested in sampling my fishy green ale. (Which was amazing, btw. Not as great as butter beer, but really fun because it had exploding blueberry fish eggs at the bottom and I love those damn things. Shout out to my homies at the Asian froyo establishments.)

The way he drank it was slow and methodical; he was totally savoring every last drop while probably imagining himself going head to head with DRACO MALFOY (I was going to say Voldemort but I think Henry knows that’s out of his wheelhouse even as far as imagination goes.)

Henry + frozen butter beer = ❤️

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin) on

I tried so hard (so hard!!) to get him to let loose a little and rock a butter beer froth-stache but he refused and then walked away and stood alone when I tried to smash his cup against his mouth. Ugh. LIVE A LITTLE, HENRY.

And on the third day, we visited Florean Flortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, and guess what Henry ordered? BUTTER BEER SOFT SERVE, YOU GUYS.


If you look really close at Henry’s face (I know, it hurts my eyes too*), you might denote that his lips are struggling to remain down-turned in that omnipresent frown of his.


(Gotta stay on his good side. He’s been showering me with music festivals lately and vague promises of Romania lately.)


We popped into the Hogs Head so I could get a butter beer in a souvenir glass (which I will honestly probably use as a succulent planter, no fucks given). I ordered a frozen one from the bar maid.

“Will that be all?” she asked, and I started to say yes, but then Henry cut me off and said, “And one regular butter beer.”

OH SHIT SON, someone’s caught feelings.


I just asked Henry for a review of butter beer in his own words and his reply was a very Henry-esque: “Butter beer good.” I’m sure he had a lot more to say in his butter beer porn script.

“And as the frothy butter beer sluiced down Hagrid’s bare navel…”


What about Chooch? He had one sip and shrugged, mirroring my face when I try actual beer and remember that I don’t like 97% of the beer that ekes past my lips. Chooch only likes milk and lemonade. He’s a fucking weirdo.

If Henry starts bringing home pallets of Faygo cream soda and bags of those yellow-wrapped butterscotches that me and old people love so much, we’ll know why:  BUTTERBEER KNOCK-OFF. Maybe he’ll start competing with the asshole kids in the neighborhood who sell watered-down lemonade in the summer. Maybe he can call it…Hank’s Margarine Ale. Or nah?


Apr 262016

You guys. I found out recently that Henry has never been to Disney World. Apparently he was supposed to go when he was Chooch’s age. He went to Florida for two weeks to visit family and they were going to go to Disney on week two but Henry ended up getting SWIMMERS EAR or something — I don’t always pay attention when he spins his yarns–and so this was his first visit. It took him FIFTY YEARS to get there. The moral is never give up! And also, visit Disney before swimming with your family.  

I don’t know why I thought Henry was going to be stoked for this experience, like it was some late-bloomer, coming-of-age feel-good tale. Because of course he wasn’t stoked and it was none of those things. From the tram to the ferry to the park entrance, he was very “MEH” as you can see in that first photo up there, and there was no twist ending, trust me. 

Here is a collection of photos from Henry on Day One and Day Two because why not. 


We made Henry wait some absurd amount of time (90 minutes maybe) to ride the Seven Dwarves Mine Ride thing and he got paired up with some other dad who immediately started yukking it up with him and Chooch and I heard Henry LAUGH before the ride even started! When I asked Henry afterward what the man said to make him laugh, he conveniently “couldn’t remember.” Probably some SERVICE joke. 

Henry rides alone on Big Thunder Mountain. HOLD ON, HANK! (That should be the name of Henry’s emo band.)

Unimpressed with the line for the Jungle Ride….

…but slightly amused about taking a boat ride full of mechanical animals and bad puns. 

Confused by all of the magic and happiness. 

Sleeping on the Little Mermaid ride. 

Ambivalent to ride through Winnie the Pooh’s story and also not cool enough to have ears. 

Henry said he wished they had a “First & Last Time” pin. Dang Henry. Maybe if they had more places to nap? 


This park had less lines to stand in and about 90% less strollers to dodge, and In turn, Henry seemed a little less hemorrhoid-flared. 

Here we find Henry angry because when he buys pretzels for himself, we always eat most of it, but when he buys one for us, we never offer him any. I mean, you have legs Henry. Walk up and get your own pretzel ok thx. 

Family portrait: me, Chooch, pretzel with cheese. Also, some rando. 

When Chooch and I changed directions without alerting the warden. 

At the SciFi Dine-In, Henry wouldn’t let us get one of the good tables inside the old cars because then one of us would have to dine alone (lol it would have been him) so we had to sit at some dumb table which wasn’t as cool BUT WHATEVER HENRY WANTS, AMIRITE. Here he is considering getting the Ariel punch in the souvenir cup but remembering he doesn’t have enough security in his manhood to get away with it. You know, like Chooch. 

Running tally of all the attractions Henry has fallen asleep on so far:

  • Carousel of Progress
  • Little Mermaid ride thing at Disney
  • Little Mermaid show at Hollywood Studios (a splash of water woke him up lol)
  • Walt Disney Productions film
  • Muppets 3D