Feb 182016
 

Henry and I have many recurring arguments, usually over his unwillingness to put the seat down or let touring bands crash at our place.

(He at least picks up his socks now, either that or he just stopped wearing them since I retaliated by throwing away every sock I found of his on the floor, and now he just doesn’t have any left.)

The other night, we live-acted another episode of The Things We Fight About Most: Season 15, Episode “Henry Eats An Orange Again.”

We were standing in the kitchen together, peacefully co-existing, when it happened. The initial SQUIRT SMOOSH SMACK SLURP of his teeth and tongue tag-teaming in a juicy mastication match, wet nectar spraying through the air like a carefully choreographed money shot.

I’ve never felt more uncomfortable around someone eating a piece of fruit; it feels like walking in on your parents fucking. This should be done in private or at least not until others in the house are provided a pair of ear plugs. He sounds like he’s performing oral sex in citrus porn EVERY TIME HE EATS ORANGES. Must be how some of you feel when you hear the word MOIST or OINTMENT, like nails on a chalkboard that’s also being used to administer a pelvic exam on you.

Just imagine his beard glistening with post-coital orange jizz interwoven between those grizzled bristles.

I just can’t stand it.

And every time, it comes as a shock to him, being called out for being the sleaziest Sunkist gourmand this side of the fucking Green Door.

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UGHHHH go fuck yourself with that orange! YOU ALREADY SOUND LIKE YOU ARE.

Jun 062015
 

It’s Henry’s 50th birthday! So here are 50 things that Chooch and I love about that big old mustachioed dumdum. (Chooch wrote the title of this, btw.)

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Chooch’s 25:

  1. He bitches when I  break my headphones: He says I cant get another pair, even though he buys me more.
  2. He buys me stuff: He is such a prince.
  3. He does stuff with me: He’s super nice.
  4. He does stuff for mommy: He is a prince.
  5. He loves us: He doesn’t love anyone else but us Oh yes, almost forgot he loves all his family members.
  6. He buys us food: So we don’t starve to death.
  7. He’s easy to make fun of: Like the times we go on his Instagram.
  8. He cares about our health: When we are sick or hurt he rushes home from work or just gives me medicine.
  9. He never leaves us: Yeah, he might get a little annoyed at us but he doesn’t leave us.
  10. He’s never scared: We always hide from him and try to scare him, but he’s never scared.
  11. He is smart: He knows a lot about nature at the cemetery.
  12. He is strong: He was in the Service so of course he is a strong independent man.
  13. He is practically a hipster: Don’t ask, of course you should know. (Hint: His Beard)
  14. He takes us to concerts: Even though he effing hates it.
  15. He yells at us: Its funny when he said SHUT THE DOOR!
  16. He takes us to Ice Cream shops: Even though he has to get his pants on when he’s comfortable on the couch.
  17. He teaches me stuff: Such as how to ride a bike, and how to swim.
  18. He sometimes is too scared to go in haunted houses: He usually protects us.
  19. He is too scared to go on rides in amusement parks: He might hate amusement parks.
  20. He protects us from almost dying: He always protects us from scary drunk guy who walks on our street.
  21. He gives directions: To very hard things me and mommy are bad at.
  22. He fixes stuff: When mommy or me break something he usually fixes it.
  23. He’s not drunk: He doesn’t drink TOO much beer a day.
  24. He cleans stuff: When he breaks a glass cup or I puke on the floor he cleans it.
  25. His Frowns: He’s famous for his frowns.

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Erin’s 25:

  1. He irons my clothes for me so that I don’t cry because I melted another favorite shirt or the entire house.
  2. He procures fruit for me!
  3. He’s not a poser: he doesn’t try to dress “cool” when he goes to concerts.
  4. He has an extensive collection of Faygo uniforms. (Sometimes this is even what he wears to concerts because what does he care.)
  5. He’s not afraid of emasculating himself by drinking SHANDY every now and again even though it’s not REAL BEER.
  6. He takes any DIY idea I throw at him and does it better. (LIKE MY GET STOKED SIGN!)
  7. He goes along with all of my photoshoot ideas, even if it means wearing makeup or a tutu.
  8. He makes me lavender-flavored food & makes really great iced coffee for me even though he is NOT a coffee-drinker.
  9. He supports my serial killer greeting card side business.
  10. He pretty much lets me do whatever I want as long as it doesn’t involve drugs or other guys’ weeners.
  11. He is super good at cooking with seitan and tofu even though he enjoys feasting on animals.
  12. He used to like fishing but then we started dating and I was like *PETA!* *TEARS!* *MURDERER!* *BAD MAN!* so now he doesn’t go fishing anymore.
  13. He LOVES when people need directions because he’s a professional driver and knows all the best routes around town.
  14. He always has time to help his mom.
  15. He always has my back, like when the Catholic moms at Chooch’s old school ganged up on me. (“Well, if they don’t want you to write about them being assholes, then they shouldn’t act like assholes!”)
  16. Sometimes, in the dark, he looks like Bo Brady!
  17. He got my initial tattooed on his finger because I told him to.
  18. He’s OK with the world revolving around me.
  19. He taught me to like vegetables because he felt that, as a vegetarian, I should be eating more than just pizza and grilled cheese.
  20. He probably knows about more bands than your dad, whether he wants to or not.
  21. He’s really good at cutting bangs. (Should I get bangs again?)
  22. He said hi to Jonny Craig one time, lol.
  23. He is so good at crafts and sewing and basic domestic skills, that you would think his mom was a Home Ec teacher back in the day.
  24. He LOVES when people ask him about the Ted Nugent show in the 1980s.
  25. HE WAS IN THE SERVICE. (I don’t care if Chooch already said it. This is an important thing.)

Now I kind of wish I hadn’t shared this with Chooch because I could have easily gone on for another 25, ugh! Like how he entertains my tradition of having Xmas cemetery picnics, takes me all over for concerts even though he typically hates the bands, and he eats funnel cake off the ground because by golly he PAID for it!

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Jun 232014
 

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OMG one of my favorite parts of our road trip was when we got to drive through the boarded-up hole where Henry used to live while he was in the SERVICE OMG CAN YOU STAND IT.

I wondered out loud if perhaps Henry had grown children running around Bunker Hill, but he assured me that was impossible, which means that Henry didn’t have sex for like THREE YEARS from 1984-1987.

I was in elementary school then, roller skating and being awesome.

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Henry is sitting next to me right now, against his will, and I’m asking him for information to include with these pictures since he has refused to write anything on his own because he hates thinking of the years of his life that didn’t include me.

Obviously.

He was an aircraft CREW CHIEF. Whatever that means.

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Here is a street that Henry may have walked on! He probably at least drove on it in his GREEN GRAND PRIX. (He just corrected me and said it was blue but last night he told me it was green. Now he’s saying he had both. God, brag much?) He doesn’t recall Brown’s Game Room being there when he lived there in the EIGHTIES. I asked him if there were any whore houses there and he got really impatient and said, “Not in BUNKER HILL. Those were in KOKOMO.” Oh. Sorry.

Henry never want to Indiana Beach while he lived there because he didn’t know it existed. He did, however, go to the fair. Once. He can’t remember if he rode anything, but he knows for certain he didn’t kiss any girls there because kissing leads to SEX and he wasn’t having that in Bunker Hill. That would have ruined his reputation as the Base Eunuch.

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This is the neighborhood where Henry’s trailer was but he claims the trailer isn’t there anymore, but he wouldn’t drive back to where it used to be so I couldn’t get any pictures of the empty pit that remains. He wouldn’t even get out of the car while I was taking these pictures. (Admittedly, there wasn’t much there to photograph and I didn’t want anyone to come running out of their home, spitting Skoal at me, so I was pretty quick to wrap this up.)

Also, Henry has no pictures of his trailer, because he wasn’t in the habit of taking pictures of his non-descript living quarters. He had a variety of roommates, including Les, Tim (WHO HE IS FRIENDS WITH ON FACEBOOK! I’m going to message him soon), and John. He thinks John only lived there for a little while but he doesn’t remember because it’s hard to remember things that happened in the 80s, you guys. He claims that they never brought home any local women and this is just so weird to me. They had lots of porn on VHS though. He mumbled “no” when I asked him if they all watched it together, which means that he wanted them to all watch it together but they were like, “Ew get out of here, Eunuch.”

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HENRY HAS BEEN TO THIS BAR!!! Apparently, he mostly drank at the bar on BASE. What a snob. He told me that he used to drink LONG ISLAND ICED TEAS at the bar on base. You guys, Henry used to drink LONG ISLAND ICED TEAS. Now I know what I’m serving at his 50th birthday party next year, complete with cocktail parasols and fruit on swords. And obviously they will be served in mason jars with paper straws, as an homage to Henry’s Pinterest addiction.

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Henry made me get in the car after this for fear of the homeowners mistaking me for someone casing their house.

Henry used to cook his own food when he lived there and he just said, “I don’t understand why this is such a big deal to you, I cook my own food now, too.” Oh yeah. But for some reason, I keep imagining him in velour lounge pants and a wife-beater, stirring succotash on top of a hot plate. He just told me he cooked Thanksgiving dinner once!! For like 4 or 5 people, he doesn’t remember!

(I AM SO GIDDY AS I WRITE THIS! The notion of Henry having a life prior to me is hilarious and mythical to me all at once. I need to know all of it.)

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I was excited to talk about this picture but Henry yelled, “THAT IS A WHOLE DIFFERENT THING. THAT IS NOT EVEN BUNKER HILL. THAT IS TEXAS.” He didn’t do cool things like this in Indiana. Probably because he didn’t know how.

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This was when Henry first saw the thing and then realized it wasn’t the thing anymore. (You know, that base thing.) It’s a prison now! He said he doesn’t have many feelings about this since it was so long ago. There was a reunion last year that he didn’t attend. He said it was because all of the people who went were people who were there for like a million years and not an early-discharge pussy like himself. I asked him if he had one of those dishonorable discharges and he got really irritated so that means yes. Probably because he was a Eunuch. And back then, that was probably worse than being gay.

He’s laughing right now but it’s not the “I’m having a good time!” kind of laugh, but more of a “Can I please go to bed now because my sanity is starting to come out of my nose” kind of scary laugh.

Apr 232013
 

shutthedoorFriends: If you were at a restaurant with Chooch and me, and you realized our waitress was someone with whom you went to high school, would you tell us?

I DIDN’T THINK SO.

(It’s funny when I ask people this in person, their eyes get all big and they say, “Um, NO. God, no.”)

But Henry did just the opposite last Saturday night when we went to Eat n Park after the Pierce the Veil show. Now to be fair, I was hyper because I had just come from a concert and had a few glasses of wine earlier; Chooch was hyper because it was almost 11pm and he was delirious from an evening at his grandma’s cable-free apartment.

“I used to go to high school with her,” Henry said in a hushed tone. “We rode the bus together.” He was referring to our waitress Dawn, who definitely seemed like someone Henry would have “loafed” with (that’s what my dad always says, and I imagine Henry’s generation probably used the same term): super skinny, stringy dishwater blond hair, sunken cheeks, probably a meth addict. She had a really rough voice and called us all “hon,” and stood sideways, looking over her shoulder at us while taking our order. Also, and this is kind of hard to explain, but she had the swagger of a drag king, the way she moved her hips while talking. IT WAS BIZARRE.

So, you know, totally in Henry’s wheelhouse.

I snorted as soon as he told me. I LOVE IT WHEN HENRY BRINGS UP HIS PRE-ERIN LIFE! He gets so pissed when I laugh about his past and he recently yelled, “You act like I didn’t exist before you met me!” But come, did he really exist? Am I not basically his sole purpose for living? He basically won’t tell me anything at all anymore, so it’s surprising that he let this particular little nugget of blackmail slip out.

Then he went up to the salad bar* and I reiterated this to Chooch.

*(“Ew, he went to the salad bar at 11 o’clock at night?!” my co-worker A-ron exclaimed when I was telling him this story last night. Yes, Henry is disgusting and eats old, congealed food from the Eat n Park salad bar after hours. Henry does disgusting things.)

“Chooch, did you hear that? DADDY WENT TO HIGH SCHOOL WITH OUR WAITRESS!!”

“With DAWN!?” Chooch, for whatever reason, had immediately taken to mocking her from the get-go, saying things like, “OK, Dawn” and “Dawn doesn’t know anything!” every time she would walk away from us. He had zero respect for this lady. (Pro Tip: Don’t ever wear a name tag around Chooch.)

“You totally have to tell her!” I encouraged him, and we both started laughing so hard that Chooch literally almost threw up at the table. People were turning around and gawking at us. An entire table of elderly black women in particular gave us very disapproving Church lady scowls.  Henry returned to two children completely turned inside out with giddiness and looked utterly apprehensive.

“What?” he asked. “WHAT DID YOU DO!?”

“Nothing!” I squealed, tears streaming down my face from all of the laughs.

“I’m telling Dawn that you went to school with her!” Chooch blurted out, cracking up all over again.

“I don’t care!” Henry spat defiantly, digging into his nasty Saturday night salad to mask the nervous twitch his moustache had acquired.

But you know he totally cared. He REALLY did not want this conversation to happen. Too bad Chooch was chomping at the bit to unleash this cannon of intel. Dawn came back with our check (I mean, at least this happened toward the end of dinner, right Henry?) and Chooch nearly gave up the ghost in his attempt to scream out, “YOU USED TO RIDE THE KIDDIE BUS WITH HIM!!!” while lunging across the table and pointing furiously at Henry.

Dawn seemed confused. Nay — Dawn seemed perplexed. She laughed nervously and asked, “What?”

Chooch was laughing so hard, the same deep-throated giggles that I too employ, that I had to explain to her what was going on.

She gave Henry a scrutinizing once-over and then said, “I’m so sorry hon, but I don’t remember….”

HAHAHA SHE DIDN’T EVEN REMEMBER HIM, BEST FUCKING NIGHT EVER!

So then Henry had to explain to her who he was and I’m pretty sure she was just pretending to recognize him at that point to get us out of her section.

“I mean, it was 30 years ago,” Henry rationalized for Dawn’s inability to remember the forgettable doof in the bitchin’ Adidas shirt and tinted glasses, which only made it better for me — THIRTY YEARS, HAHAHA!

“Have a nice night, DAWN,” Chooch seethed in faux-annoyance as we were getting ready to leave (Henry had already left us at the table, that’s how embarrassed we were apparently making him) and I had to SQUAT DOWN to keep from peeing.

“You two are fucking idiots,” Henry sighed tersely, shrugging away from us when we caught up with him at the register while he waited to pay.

And then this happened before we even left the parking lot:

My favorite part is when Chooch calls Dawn an asshole and it sounds like Henry is about to get all TOUGH PAPA on him, but then all he says is “Shut the door” for the third time. He was REALLY all about having the door shut.

(Side note: I rarely post videos of myself because when I get giddy—and I am often giddy—I wind up sounding like Bobcat Goldthwait and ain’t nobody got time for that.)

Shit, Chooch and I rode the Dawn horse all day Sunday (“Remember DAWN!?” we would ask Henry and then collapse in happy laughter); I came to work yesterday and told the story to anyone who would listen to me (some people walked away). Glenn asked me if Henry drinks a lot and I have NO IDEA what kind of question that is.

So, I think it’s safe to say that we will probably never go back to that Eat n Park.

Feb 192013
 

My friend Michelle posted this on my Facebook timeline because she is smart and knows that I would:

  • cry from laughing
  • annoy the shit out of Henry with it

Boy, was she right.

“I bet Henry sings this song at work,” Michelle said, and oh! what an image!

I haven’t had much opportunity to really get under Henry’s skin with it, but on the way to work, I played it in the car and said, “Do you know what this is!?”

He only needed to hear about 3 seconds of it from my shitty iPhone speaker before smirking. “Yeah, it’s an old Faygo commercial. It’s on their website!” he scoffed, utterly unimpressed. And then he added, “There’s a rap version, too.”

OMG PLEASE TELL ME IT’S BY ICP.

For those who don’t know, Henry works for a beverage company that distributes Faygo.

****************

In other Henry news, I found out that he was actually planning on getting me this beautiful(ly creepy) antique wooden wheelchair for Valentine’s Day, but the motherfucker on Craigslist never responded. Henry, you should just quit Craigslist already. Anyway, just knowing that he was trying to do that for me made me be pretty nice to him all weekend.

I mean, other than the whole Redbox debacle.

 

Jul 032012
 

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The “I Just Noticed My Arm Is Dripping Blood From A Wound I Did Not Know I Had & Now My Girlfriend Is Making a Big Commotion About It & Drawing Attention To Us” Frown.

Moments before this, Henry pointed a jaunty man with a long & glorious mullet.

“He was in the bathroom with me and Chooch and I was glad I didn’t let Chooch go in alone.”

Then Henry noticed his MYSTERIOUS wound. There was a long crimson rivulet running down Henry’s forearm. I wanted to take a picture but he had scraped the now-dry blood off too quick. All that was left was a tiny little puncture mark. It was actually not very impressive or heroic, but it was probably worse than any casualty Henry suffered while in the SERVICE, except for maybe when his ego was curb-stomped by a Panamanian hooker’s denial.

Meanwhile, Mullet kept pivoting his head around to stare at us while he retreated.

“It just occurred to me that those two things did not happen through coincidence,” I shouted from the backseat of the car on the way home. (I let Andrea sit up front so she doesn’t get tormented by Chooch.) “That man stabbed you in the bathroom!”

“Yeah, Erin. That’s it exactly. He stabbed me in the forearm with a pencil.”

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But then there’s always the zombie attack theory.

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Apr 082012
 

1. He knows what silver sounds like.

My estranged (emphasis on strange) aunt Sharon dropped off a garbage bag-wrapped Easter basket on our front porch for Chooch. One of the items was a small plastic piggy bank, which Henry shook and said, “Wow, there’s silver in this.”

“How the fuck do you know?” I asked.

“Because I know what silver sounds like! They stopped making silver coins in 1970—” but this is where I peaced out of the history lesson because I was laughing too hard.

2. Henry used to be a paper boy!

We’re currently en route to visit Speck’s grave, when Henry commented on the traffic.

“Easter sure is different nowadays. I remember when there was never a car on the road until after noon on Easter Sunday. I used to be able to ride my wagon of newspapers all the way across Lebanon Church Road—–what?”

I was wiping tears away at this point. “You were a paper boy?” I cried.

“Yeah, so what?!” Henry spat, glaring at me.

My laughter reached the precipice of hysteria at this point, imagining a freckled, knickerbockered Henry hurling the Sunday paper at empty milk bottles.

“That’s why I have such a good work ethic, unlike most of YOU people!” he shouted defensively.

YOU PEOPLE? He must mean my awesome generation.

“You’re going to make me hate you today,” he just mumbled.

Feb 082012
 

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Henry said to me, “You’re asking a lot, you know.”

“It’s the least you can do since you won’t marry me.”

And on that note, here is what was supposed to be the final installment of the Harangue Henry questions. I am attempting to type this for him while he is busy assembling zombie Valentine cards.
***
Ally poses several Tough Thinkers for our Henry: Who does Henry want his mustache to be when it grows up? (e.g. Tom Selleck, Hulk Hogan, etc.)

[Oh the look I just got from him! Shoooooot.]

“I don’t know! Me! [Unintelligible mumbles.]”

Who was Henry’s favorite Teletubby?

“I don’t have one. I didn’t watch Teletubbies. I was freaking thirty years old when it came out!”

[Ed.Note. In other words: The Gay One.]

Sandra Lee, Giada, or Rachael Ray? Who is Henry’s favorite food network personality?

Henry, with extreme confidence: “Giada.”

[Ed.Note. Then why won’t you make any of her recipes, you douche-kabob?]

Does he agree that Alton’s recipes always work and that Ina’s never do?

Getting tangled up in double-sided tape, Henry half-assedly answers: “I would say yes but I’ve never done any of Ina’s at all.”

Has he ever tried any of David Lebovitz’s recipes (if not, he should!)?

Henry, who likes to make up his own recipes for orphan gruel, mutters: “No.”

What would Henry do if he had an entire day, completely to himself?

“Sleep,” Henry said in a way that made me scared to press for more. “That’d never happen,” he mumbled. “You guys don’t even let me sleep when I’m sick.”

What is Henry’s favorite milk shake flavor?

With a face contorted in perplexion: “Probably chocolate.”

[The actual answer is: Whatever Erin or Chooch order that he has to finish.]

Which Golden Girl can Henry most readily identify with? I HAVE TOO MANY QUESTIONS, I CAN’T PRIORITIZE THEM!!!!!

“Which one has a girlfriend that’s a pain in the ass?”

***
That concludes this round. It only took a WEEK to get these answers, and then I made the mistake of asking him the last 2 directly after he got off the phone with Comcast, who have failed to fix our Internet for a week now. HENRY IS MAD YOU GUYS.

Jan 282012
 

The other day, I gave you the opportunity to shoot some questions at Henry. Facebook really came through with some good ones, so this is going to have to be split into parts, otherwise Henry will flip out about having to talk to me for me too long. So here are the first 5 questions!

Misty’s question is threefold: I want to know who he thinks is the hottest on Jersey Shore: Mike, Vinny, or Pauly D.

Henry, no hesitation: Pauly D.

Also, does he have any strange fears nobody knows about? (balloons, hair brush hair etc.) He probably won’t tell you but you never know.

Henry, making all kinds of confused and constipated faces: Strange fears? I don’t know! Getting cut by metal scares me.

[Pretty sure we covered that already at some point, so good job Henry.]

And also, If he could retire today and spend his life doing manly man activities what would he choose to do?

Henry: Manly man activities? Do you have to go with me?

Erin: Maybe to watch.

Henry, tapping his fingers and then getting distracted by Friends.

[Now we are both distracted by Friends.]

Henry, 2 hours later: I don’t know. I think I would travel and maybe go fishing.

Erin: Fishing for a new girl to not-propose to?

Henry: Sure.

My old school* bud Liz asks: I’d love to hear Henry wax poetic on the Kardashian clan. Who is his fave?

*(Not “old school” in the sense that she slinks around in Adidas tracksuits and Kangol hats with a boombox on her shoulder, but in that I’ve known her since 6th grade.)

Henry, with a crinkled nose and agitated squeal to his tone: I don’t know! I don’t even like the Kardashians! None of them!

[But he’d sure bang any of them in a pinch.]

Terry from Twitter has a burning curiosity: Name two things you love and two things you hate about @ohhonestlyerin?

Henry, using the aid of a toothpick to think: Why does it have to be TWO things I love? [Staring at me for several icy seconds with hate and disdain]

[Still thinking and staring miserably into his grim future. This is obviously a Very Hard One.]

Henry, realizing the faster he answers, the faster it’s over: Two things I love would be sense of humor & sex.

[Fantastic, now everyone knows my Virgin Mary qualities are bogus.]

Henry, on a roll now: Two things I hate are her semi-self-centeredness [Lies.] and that voice she just used.

[I don’t like this game anymore.]

Andrea and Alyson could both kill to know more about the now-infamous Ted Nugent concert.

Answers are in video-form!

Bill of Funny Accent Land inquires: I would like to know which episode of Degrassi is Henry’s favorite.

Henry, laughing in disgust: I don’t HAVE any favorite episodes.

Erin: Not even the one where Paige gets raped by the frat boy? Is that what they’re called in Canada?

Henry: What? Which one is that?

Erin: Well, it’s the one where Paige gets raped by the frat boy.

Henry, pretending like he remembers: Oh. No. I don’t know, I never pay attention to it!

Erin: Then why did you cry when Jimmy got capped?!

Henry: I did not cry.
****
More answers later!

It’s amazing he answered any at all after I fake-broke up with him Friday morning and caused him all kinds of duress.

Jan 242012
 

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(I was hoping to have a reason to recycle this photo!)

It was so much fun when we did this last year that I decided it was due time to do it again. Ask him anything! What it was like to have a porn wound. How badly he wants to kill himself every year at Warped Tour. Things about being IN THE SERVICE (his favorite topic!).

You ask all the questions and then I will interrogate him and post his answers on Friday. And believe me, I will do whatever it takes to get The Answers.

Here’s what he had to say last time.

[Ed.Note: I know the last few posts have been recycled cop-outs, but I haven’t been feeling well. I’m either dying slowly from religiously watching the cast of Jersey Shore poison themselves with alcohol, UV rays & sexual stupidity, or I’m pregnant, as all nauseated females always are.]

Jan 042012
 

*(Because these aren’t getting old at all.)

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You know what I think is interesting? Henry rarely declines when I say, “Let’s go to [insert city] to see [insert band].” As long as the driving distance is within reason, he will usually oblige, so you know what I think? I think that Henry ENJOYS it. You know what else he enjoys? Answering my questions. So let’s just get right into it.

Me: What style are you going for when you go to shows – Urban Lumberjack, Megan’s Law leisure or Amber Alert athletic?

Henry, looking up from Bakery Story on his phone and twisting that mustache into a snarl: What the hell are you talking about?

Me: Do you mean you’re denying pulling clothes from the Child Predator rack?

Henry: [*crickets*]

Me: What are your thoughts on Craig Owens?

Henry, mumbling and making put-out faces: Same as they were before.

Me, pressing the issue: Did you approve of his hair this time? You seemed concerned about the darkened hue when he was on Warped Tour.

Henry, annoyed that I’m making him think and string words together: It was a little better, I guess. I don’t know. It looked blond. What the fuck do you want from me?

Me, changing the subject so he wouldn’t completely shut down: Let’s talk about your caesar salad. What kind of man orders a salad?

Henry, smirking indignantly: One that wants a salad to eat.

[When asked if it was better/worse than tossed salad, he said better, which leads me to believe that he didn’t understand the question.]

20120102-200741.jpgMe: If you actually had a say in what we listened to in the car on the way to Cleveland, what would it have been?

Henry, cutting me off before I had a chance to add “And don’t say anything but Jonny Craig”: Anything but Jonny Craig.

Me: Why didn’t you propose to me during Craig’s set?

Henry, my questions now wearing his face into the visage of a wild Appalachian man: What?! Because I was in the bathroom at the Mongolian BBQ!

[Henry went next door to the Grog Shop and went through the motions of getting a table at the Mongolian BBQ joint just so he could shit on their toilets. He quite literally missed half of the show and I didn’t even notice. And also, nice try Henry. We all know it’s because you don’t even have a ring!]

Me, brushing off the bitterness: Yeah, speaking of, let’s talk about your gastrointestinal hiccups of the night.

Henry: What about it? And why do we have to talk about my gastro—[gives up because he can’t pronounce it]?

Me, trying to get this over with so I could stare longingly at my Jonny Craig Christmas tree topper: Because some people might daydream about your bowel movements. YOU DON’T KNOW.

Henry: WHAT? People don’t…what the fuck are you talking about? You’re so…[goes back to playing on his phone]

Me: When you were young—-

Henry: No.

Me: —did you ever roadtrip for a show?

Henry, disinterestedly: No.

Me, pressing the issue: Not even for Judas Priest or Tone Loc?

Henry, all emphatically: NO. [And then repeated “Tone Loc” to himself and shook his head.]

20120102-200803.jpgMe, determined to dig deep beneath the non-descript t-shirts (worn over top of non-descript Henleys now that it’s winter!) for real answers: In your own words, describe the trip to Cleveland.

Henry, looking around confusedly. (Sorry, your mommy’s not here to hold up cue cards for you.): I don’t know. The trip was OK until we hit the snow that you didn’t tell me about. [Ed.note: maybe if he would use his phone for more than playing games and watching porn, he would have been privy to the weather forecast.] Then it became annoying. That was about it until the show and then the trip home which was not fun because I had to drive with a drunk girl next to me.

[Imagine how riveting it would be if Henry had his own blog.]

Me: That’s it?

Henry: Yeah. What else do you want?!

Me: Sentimental stuff.

Henry, repeating my request in a tired tone: My stomach was upset 90% of the time. Sentimental stuff went out the window.

[Or down the commode, as it were.]

Me, poking the bear one last time before we went to bed: Did you see any shows in the SERVICE? Like Bette Midler or Gloria Estefan.

Henry: What? No! You mean USO concerts? No. I did see Cheap Trick though when I was stationed in Texas.

Me, getting unnecessarily worked up: YOU DID? WHERE WAS IT?

Henry, looking at me suspiciously and clearly debating whether or not to answer: In a bar.

Me: [Dying of laughter, smothering myself with a pillow.]

Henry: [Ignoring me and trying to remember what album Cheap Trick had just released at the time of this show.]

Me: [Crying at this point.]

Henry, snapping out of his Cheap Trick glory: IT’S NOT THAT FUNNY. Really, it’s not that funny.

Me: Was that the show where you pushed over someone in a wheelchair?

Henry: What, no. That was Ted Nugent, and that’s not what happened.

Me: [Losing it all over again.]

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This is what Henry looked like during most of our interview.

I’m going to try and really hone my investigative reporter skills by getting him to reveal what REALLY happened at that Ted Nugent show.

Sep 302011
 

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This is supposed to be an illustration of Ed Kemper in my Serial Killer Coloring Book, but who does it REALLY look like?

Another striking similarity to note is that Ed had maintained his guise of innocence by befriending the police force and Henry is a HUGE popo sycophant.

“The frames of my glasses aren’t the same shape,” Henry argued futilely.

More red flags: Henry is quiet, mild-mannered, NONDESCRIPT, drives a WORK VAN. I think it’s time to start prying up the floorboards.

Sep 272011
 

Even though I waited until the night before The Law Firm’s fall food party
to tell Henry that he has to make a batch of caramels he’s never made before, and even though we don’t have a candy thermometer or any of the ingredients he needed, and even though he was tired from working on little sleep and I couldn’t totally remember where I had seen the recipe, there he was in the kitchen at 9:30 on a Monday night, stirring away at a bubbling pot of stout-spiked caramels.

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Anyway, these are beer pretzel caramels. When I think of fall, I think of Oktoberfest and even though I hate beer, I’m a glutton for some beer-flavored food.

Sometimes it pays to have a Henry. It’s a good thing he was too busy paying attention in Home Ec to be a normal teenager collecting BJs under the bleachers or else I’d be fucked right now. I’m totally going to tell everyone at work who doesn’t read my blog that I made them myself though. Weekend classes and lots of Food Network, along with keeping a Michelin Star chef hog-tied in my basement.

Jul 172011
 

This was supposed to be an ongoing series, but it’s taken me a whole year to make the second one. Sounds about right.

Hey, in other news, those of you who requested a People of Brookline postcard might actually get one soon! Henry is off all week so he can do fatherly things with the kid during the day and maybe I might actually get a chance to do something, anything.