Things About Henry | Oh Honestly, Erin

Henry Speaks Out, Round 3: Where Henry Reaches His Limit

Henrying, Interview with a Henry, Things About Henry

Feb 082012

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.

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Henry Speaks Out

Henrying, Interview with a Henry, Things About Henry

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.

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Harangue Henry, 2012 Edition

Henrying, Things About Henry, Uncategorized

Jan 242012

(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.]

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Henry’s Night Out: An Exclusive Interview*

Interview with a Henry, Things About Henry, Uncategorized

Jan 042012

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

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.]

Me: 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.]

Me, 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.]

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.

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Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, Indeed

Henrying, Things About Henry

Sep 302011

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.

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Henry the Candy Man Can

Food, Henrying, Things About Henry

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.

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.

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Goofus & Gallant, OhHonestlyErin-Style #2

Goofus & Gallant, Henrying, That I Hate, Things About Henry

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.

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Henry’s Day at the Fair: An Exclusive Interview

Amusement Parks, Fairs, & Carnivals, Henrying, Things About Henry

Jul 072011

Where’s Henry? Oh, just standing alone.

Ever wonder what it’s like to be Old and Joyless at the county fair? Me too, so I decided to interview* Henry to get the geriatric scoop.

*I tried to accomplish this unbeknownst to him, but as soon as he answered the phone, it went something like this:

Henry: What.

Me: [throaty giggles]

Henry, with apprehension: What did you do?

Me, in a robotic cadence: [more giggles, staccato with giddiness] Can I ask you a few questions?

Henry, senses heightened: What? Why?

Me, still giggling & speaking like a robot with a dick in its throat: What is your favorite food at the fair?

Henry, sighing: I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.

Me: WAIT! THIS IS IMPORTANT!

Henry: [Dial tone.]

The rest of the interview was conducted both over text and in person when he came home from work, only because he kept hanging up on me every time I called him.

Henry slides his glasses down, grandpa-style, and Googles “fastest way to kill yourself at the county fair.”

Me: Is it true that you don’t ride anything because you’re worried the wind will rape your perfectly feathered hair?

Henry: No, because it makes my stomach upset. What the fuck?

Henry engaged in his favorite activity at the fair: eating. This typically occurs only after he takes care of feeding his son and girlfriend.

Me, via text message this time so as not to chase the subject away with my giggles: Seriously, what is your favorite part about the fair, and don’t say “Leaving.”

Henry: The food.

Me: Can you be more specific and maybe answer in complete sentences using lots of descriptive words?

Henry: No. I don’t trust yoi [sic].

I feel like it must be hot sausage, his favorite food I mean, because that’s what he got on Saturday and also in 2009 at the Westmoreland County Fair. Clearly I’ve been collecting evidence. He also got french fries molested with a sublime bourbon glaze, most of which I ate though.

Henry is never in on the joke.

Me: I understand that you ran into an “old friend from work” at the fair. Were you surprised that your so-so personality made enough of an impression that he remembered you?

Henry, walking away in a huff after reading the above and below questions: No, and you’re an asshole.

Me: Did you ever covet his wife? I mean, you seemed so excited to tell me that she’s a traveling horse vet and I know how much you’re into pony play. So…?

Henry: [see above response.]

It’s true! Henry has a friend who considers him a friend back! They’re even friends on FACEBOOK so you know it’s real. They talked about really boring Old People things and all I kept thinking was, “I could have ridden the Caterpillar three times by now.” So now I hate that guy. Whatever his name is.

Henry will bitch about how much of his Faygo paycheck is spent at the fair, yet he sees no problem with throwing away next month’s rent on carnival games. Yay, $45 for two goldfish! There goes dinner for next week.

Me: About how much, approximately, of our son’s college tuition did you give to the carnies? And I’m talking about just the games, not the reacharounds:

Henry: Um, about fifteen bucks. OK, maybe about twenty.

Great. I could have bought a CD with that.

Me: What is your favorite carnival game that you like to pretend you’re good at?

Henry, sounding extremely annoyed to the max: I don’t know. I don’t want to do this, you know that.

This means he knows deep down he’s not good at anything.

Henry poses pretty and only smiles when he thinks no one is looking. His smiles usually occur when I am far, far away.

(This is also a widely unknown yoga pose for truckers.)

Me: Would you rather, and this going to hurt your heart so be prepared, give up Mountain Dew for life or trade your collection of non-descript t-shirts for ones with….logos and designs?

Henry, after making me repeat the question because I was laughing too hard and we’re now doing this from separate rooms: Give up Mountain Dew for life.

I do not know what this has to do with the fair.

Henry, in the middle of saying: “No.” “Stop it.” “Grow up.” “You’re an idiot.” “Get that pine cone out of my ass.” Pick one.

Me: It has been proven that the Caterpillar is the Best Ride In the Whole Fucking World. So why wouldn’t you ride it?

Henry: Because it’s a KIDS RIDE and I’m NOT A KID.

You got that right.

Me: Please tell us, best to your memory, what you were saying in the above picture.

Henry, in a tone becoming increasingly high-pitched with irritation: I don’t know! I don’t even know where that was taken! [I then remind him it was when we were making a mess with waffle ice cream sandwiches] I don’t know! Probably something like, “Wipe [Chooch's] face off!”

Henry is the official beverage-holder at the fair. This prevents him from honking Tazmanian Devil-tattooed biker breasts, tugging his mouth into a frown.

Me: If you had to fight someone for the last piece of whatever your favorite carnival food is that you’re being so secretive about, would you rather it be one of the octogenarian ticket booth workers or one of the goody-goody 4H brats? Do you need me to tell you what “octogenarian” means?

Henry, rubbing his eyes tiredly: I don’t know. The octo—-[unable to pronounce it]. The ticket booth workers!

Henry tries to reflect on a time when he could still ride carnival rides, but comes up short. He’s just too old.

Me: Why don’t you ever smile at the fair? Is it because your moustache is too heavy?

Henry, from upstairs: I’m busy.

I then asked Henry to summarize his day at the fair. This is what the Man of Many Words had to say:

It was a good day. Today sucks because you just ruined everything.

Presumably because I had the audacity to make him talk to me. This took 4 hours to extract answers from him, but if there’s anything you want to ask Henry about his big day at the fair, leave a comment and I’ll see what I can do!

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My Sick, Musically Incompatible Boyfriend

Henrying, music, That I Hate, Things About Henry

Mar 232011

Henry is sick now. And when Henry is sick, it’s all, “Just leave me alone! I need to rest!” and then he barricades himself in the bedroom and leaves the rest of us incompetent beings to stumble repeatedly into the wall like dying wind-up toys.

He came home from work early yesterday with preconceived notions of “resting,” but too bad I was having major blog issues (it was basically BROKEN-DOWN).

“Get down here and fix this!” I yelled up to him. “You can rest when you’re done.” And I said it in such a way that sent ice-cold claws grating down his back, so even though he acted all haughty when he stomped down the stairs, it was obvious that his manhood was cowering underneath his feverish flesh.

It’s sort of better now, back to its original jacked-up state, at least. My blog, not Henry. Last I bothered to check, he was still a suffering mess of chills and aches.

He better get stoked though, because tonight is the Dance Gavin Dance show, which I had scheduled off work for two months in advance. He was nasally complaining about this yesterday, because not only is he sick, but he absolutely abhors Dance Gavin Dance.

“This is so unfair how you do this to me,” he bitched in a way that immediately lopped two inches off his dick measurement. “I’m going to wait until you’re sick and then make you go see someone you hate.”

“Go ahead,” I taunted, knowing this threat will never come to fruition because it involves spending money which Henry doesn’t enjoy doing unless it’s on bottles of Mountain Dew, computer parts and socks.

“Katy Perry!” he yelled, practically clapping his hands in delight. “I’m making you go see Katy Perry. Front row seats.”

I couldn’t stop laughing at the ridiculousness of this. Erin Rachelle Kelly at a Katy Perry “concert.”

“That’s fine,” I played along. “I’ll start a fight and get kicked out.”

“Ooh, Katy Perry and PINK!” Henry went on, dreaming up some stupid scenario in his stupid head. “A night of positivity.” (I’m constantly ranting about how I hate Pink because she’s so fucking positive. Just what women need, more anthems.)

My luck, they’ll probably be on tour together this summer and Henry will win tickets from whatever pathetic radio station he guiltily listens to when I’m not in the car with him.

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Christmas Eve, Part 2: Henry’s Big Gay Secret

Henrying, holidays, Things About Henry

Dec 262010

On the night of Christmas Eve, we went to Henry’s sister’s house for some holiday hootenannies. We passed out gifts to all the kids and then Henry’s mom Judy asked, “Where are the spinach pies?”

Henry looked at me like I was going to tug them out of my g-string, but unfortunately I forgot to stuff them in there. It’s tough when my pimp doesn’t remind me to stow sundry down my pants like a human pantry. Besides, spinach pies were Henry’s duty, and he evidently failed. Judy seemed very sad about this.

Toward the end of the night, Henry was in the living room watching the kids play video games, while I sat in the kitchen drinking wine with Judy and Henry’s sister Kelly. Henry walked through the kitchen at one point to grab some food and I made an off-hand remark about how I’ve been trying to get him to dress a little better, and they both said they had noticed and thought he looked nice. Once he left the room though, the atmosphere got very heavy and Judy leaned in and, with her face drawn into a grave expression, murmured, “You know the reason why my son doesn’t dress nice, right?”

Because he got the domestic piece of the gay gene and not the sense of style slice?, I wanted to say. Instead, I shook my head and said, “No, why?”

“Oh, that girl he dated after the Service!” Judy exclaimed, hand on her chest.

I gave her a blank look.

“You don’t know about that girl he was going with?” she asked, clearly astonished that Henry left that chapter out when divulging his life story to me after a night of cheap drinks and bad karaoke at McCoy’s.

I looked over to Kelly for some help, expecting for her to chime in and say that their mom was losing her mind—which typically is Kelly’s role in these conversations, to say that Mom is batshit crazy—but she too had gone all somber.

“No, I guess I don’t know about her,” I said, wondering what the story was since Henry has told me some Pretty Big Secrets in our time together.

“She was awful!” Kelly spat, looking completely repulsed. “I don’t know what he ever saw in her!”

“He met her at Jack’s, right when he got out of the Service,” Judy regaled. “They were always together, going out drinking. Oh, when he found out she was gay, he didn’t come out of his room for three months.”

RECORD SCRATCH. My ears were practically fluttering off my head, this unbelievably moist wad of gossip sending them into overdrive.

HENRY HAD A GAY GIRLFRIEND? Oh, how rich.

At this point, I was pretty sure Judy was trying not to cry. But the more I let it sink in, the less it seemed like a verified Henry Story to me, so I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I kept trying to imagine him, fetus-curved on a twin bed in a mostly non-descript bedroom that maybe had one lone Dukes of Hazard poster on a wall, hugging a pillow into his chest and sobbing because some broad left him for the vag, while the whole family convened out in the hall on suicide watch, fruity tones of Air Supply wafting out from under his door like so many homosexual farts. These images didn’t come as easily as maybe you’d like to think. But I really, truly wanted this story to be legit. More than anything, that would have been the best Christmas present ever.

“What are you talking about?” Blake asked, who was sitting with us at the table messing around with his new camera. I didn’t even think he had been listening.

“Nothing!” Judy snapped, waving him off. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“I hated her,” Kelly continued in hushed tones, after making certain that Blake wasn’t listening. “Chrissy, I think that was her name.” Henry’s mom nodded in recognition. “Yeah, she was always telling him what to do. What to wear. Where to go. She was so controlling. I was like, ‘Why are you letting this girl control you?’ I couldn’t ever understand it.”

Just as I was thinking this broad sounded an awful lot like me, Henry walked into the kitchen. Judy made lip-zipping gestures and acted all awkward and suspicious. I locked eyes with Henry, smirked, and shook my head.

“What?” he asked, stopping in his tracks.

“Nothing!” his mom shouted. We waited for him to grab another handful of chips and leave. “Don’t tell him I’m telling you this!” Judy pleaded. “He was so upset when this happened. If he hasn’t told you, it’s probably because it’s too painful for him to talk about.”

Henry texted me just then: “What is my mom telling you?”

I replied: “Oh, we’ll be talking later. I can’t believe you’ve been withholding from me.”

Judy wasn’t done.

“I’ve never seen my son so upset!” she continued, face still pulled taut in that expression of utter seriousness. “They didn’t date for long but she really hurt him. He hasn’t bothered dressing nice since her. I guess she ruined him, I don’t know.” By this point, I was chewing on my inner cheeks, trying not to laugh. I just didn’t buy it. It didn’t seem like something he would purposely omit from his oral history, but you better believe I was thinking of all the ways I could use this to fuck with him.

***

A few minutes later, I was in Kelly’s living room, sitting alone on the couch with Henry.

“So I just heard a terribly devastating story about you,” I baited.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Henry mumbled, not taking his eyes off the Wii game he was playing.

I started to sprinkle out little hints but he honestly kept saying he didn’t know what I was talking about.

“So you mean to tell me you never dated some broad who wound up being gay, plunging you into a downward spiral that left you house-bound for three months?”

“What are you talking about?!” he asked, looking at me for the first time. I filled him in on what his mom and sister told me. They told me not to, but it was too good! I had to chide him, at least a little.

“That girl?! I never dated her! She was just my drinking buddy.” I asked him what her name was, as a test, and he said he couldn’t even remember. I could tell he wasn’t lying.

“Oh, yeah. Chrissy,” he repeated absently after I told him. “Where the hell did my mom get that story from?” he asked mostly to himself.

According to Henry, he used to “loaf” (that’s what old people say instead of “hanging out,” you know) with her and some gay guy named Kenny.

“Oh my god, so you were dating BOTH of them?” I gasped obnoxiously.

“NO! They were just my drinking bud—-SHUT UP!”

The most I could get out of Henry, who is playing the Bad Memory card, is that she was “mannish and had short hair.”

I let it go for awhile, but in the car after we left I filled Blake in and together we rode him like a down-trodden mule all the way home.

“Nothing sexual was going on!” Henry swore.

“Hahaha, Henry said ‘sexual’!” And Blake and I cracked up even harder.

I asked him what ever happened to Chrissy, and all Henry could muster was that he “thinks” she moved to Florida.

“Yeah, you know that because you creep her Facebook profile on the daily,” I needled away.

“I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER HER LAST NAME!” Henry cried, the heat of the situation making him tug at his collar.

***

Today, we were in the car when I noticed that the skin beneath Henry’s bottom lip was bulging, like he was pushing his tongue down in front of his bottom teeth.

“Did you used to dip when you were dating Chrissy?” I asked.

“What? No. Why? AND I NEVER DATED HER!” He quickly tacked on to the sentence.

“Because I’ve never seen you do that with your bottom lip before, thought maybe all this talk of Chrissy was bringing back some old tics.”

“I’m going to kill my mom and sister,” he mumbled.

Maybe they were just that mad over the spinach pies.

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Henry’s Lame Answers

Henrying, Things About Henry

Nov 192010

You guys asked Henry some hard-hitting questions, and he gave you some half-assed answers. I give you my word that I did not alter any of these answers (except for the one where he used a double negative).

Andrea asked, “Did he get those scene glasses that you picked out for him and what is the best thing about being a dad?”

Yes I did and I must say I look good, now if I could only afford them!

Being there for them when they need me.

Michelle wants to know why I don’t have one of those husbands, what’s up with that Henry?

It’s complicated but one day.

What a cop-out.

Sandy wants to know how Henry got the glitter sprinkles to stick on the marshmallows from the preschool Halloween party:

Corn syrup and glue!

I had no idea he used glue. Is that even safe? Though, I guess kids are going to ingest glue either way, so why not just serve it to them all prettified.

Misty wants to know what song Henry would use to describe me and he thinks he can say “Let me get back to you on this one” and I won’t send him to the flagellation chamber when he comes home.

However, Misty also wants to know a story from one of the most exciting days he had in THE SERVICE:

Ok my most exciting day and the one Erin says I had are way different.

Mine would be the first day there; it was a big change from the way I was used to spending my day. I’ve never regretted going in, just regretted telling Erin anything about it!

By “used to spending my day,” he means he didn’t “accidentally” kill someone’s pet duck in Panama and receive Vick’s Vapor Rub hand jobs by Taiwanese hookers before he enlisted. I thought for sure his most exciting day would have been the day he and his buddies took a photo of themselves in their underroos, and Henry appears to be holding a ball-gag.

Misty also wants to know what his dream job would be:

Stay at home dad, as soon as Erin makes it big. She better hurry I’m getting old!

Good thing I’ve been looking into some trade schools. My future in welding just might make this possible, Henry.

Carrie asks, “Who is your stylist?”

What ever girl is available at Supercuts and myself.

Alyson Hell desperately needs to know his favorite flavor of Faygo and what he actually did do in THE SERVICE when he wasn’t getting denied by street-walkers and struggling to look like Erik Estrada:

Red Pop or Moonmist.

I was a Crew Chief on a KC135 Tanker they refuel other aircraft in the air.

Kristen wants to know what name he’d use if he was a hiphop star so she’ll know to avoid it:

DJ Dung Pile cause I would sound like a pile of S__t

Yes, he actually spelled it S__t because we all know how much I fucking hate to fucking use dick-shitting cuss words on this motherfucking cocksucking shit-covered dildo blog.

Brandy can’t sleep until she knows how many M&Ms he can fit in his mouth and what his last meal would be once he offs me and lands his ass on death row (which would never happen, because that would be the time Henry actually WOULD lawyer-up, child support/divorce what now?):

Probably 1 whole bag, small bag (Now, if these were DICKS we were talking about….)

Pizza & wings.

Fine, the dick part was my addition, but only because he pissed me off this morning and I hate him right now (more than usual).

Edina wants Henry’s ego to have a moment to bloat, so she asks, “What do you love about yourself?”

That I was smooth enough to land such a wonderful girlfriend who would make me do things like this all the time.

Stephenie is like, “Fuck asking a question, I have a goddamned DEMAND.” She wants her circular bread with the dip inside that he promised to bring her for her birthday and never did because he is the proprietor of the Empty Promise Factory.

Will do it for Thanksgiving or Christmas.

Finally, the last question is from Kaitlin, who wants to know, “If you were to cook Erin a romantic four-course meal, what would you serve?”, operative word being IF:

The first course would have to be a soup, without all the vegetable left out that the picky vegetarian doesn’t like. Probably a creamy turnip or sweet potato soup

Next would be some exotic tofu, weird cheese concoction then a dish with vegetables that most people have never heard of and are impossible to get. Lastly a dessert made from fresh fruit

All ingredients and Menu is subject to change at anytime and must have prior approval by Erin. So maybe you should ask her what she would like. I just cook and bring the romance…Ha HA

OMG he actually said he brings the romance? The vegetable part is true – I only like unpopular vegetables, plus I’m supremely picky on top of that. But let’s be honest Henry, your menu would be pretty simple:

Arsenic

Arsenic

Arsenic

Hemlock

I guess that’s it. Pretty anti-climactic. Let’s never do that again.

Shit! I forgot about the ones he answered in the comments, like a dummy.

Kate asked, “I’d like Henry to tell us what he would most miss about you if something happened tomorrow and you were gone.”

So many to list, but as long as she doesn’t read this, I’ll say all the phone calls I get during the day most of which involve her having the “worst day ever!” or barking orders at me(like I actually listen) like a drill sargeant. Aww hell I would just miss her all together!

That’s cute. He’s actually pretending to be cocky. You’re a big shot now, Henry.

And lastly, Tracey asked, “Did he ever get hit on by another man while in the service?”

No, and I don’t know why.

Would you like a list, Henry?

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Harangue Henry

Henrying, Things About Henry

Nov 162010

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

My friend Brandy is having her blog readers ask her husband questions, and I think that’s a really fun-sounding idea and I want to play too! Even though I don’t have one of those HUSBANDS. Besides, Henry owes me for never making good on his promise to guest-post. (I’m imagining Henry flicking open a scroll of my own empty promises.)

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.

Totally go check out Brandy’s blog, too! It’s a smorgasbord of married-life hilarity, DIY-projects and adorable photos of her dog. I’ve been having a fun time getting to know her over the last few months!

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Goofus and Gallant, OhHonestlyErin-style #1

Goofus & Gallant, Henrying, That I Hate, Things About Henry

Jul 042010

Remember that old series “Goofus and Gallant” that was in that kid’s magazine, Highlights? I was thinking about it this morning and how much Henry and I are like the Goofus and Gallant of the 21st century. So I’m reinventing the series.

Here’s the first one:

My hair is actually darker than that. But everything else is TRUTHFUL, right down to Henry’s empty box of hemorrhoid paste. No wait, I lied! Our garbage can is blue.

[A Note: The last time I read Highlights was the summer of 2004. I had taken my grandma to her doctor appointment and as we sat in the waiting room together, I took great pleasure in reacquainting myself the aforementioned Goofus and Gallant, and also the Timbertoes, whom I loved! Guys, they were a family made from TIMBER. After getting completely cocky from finding all the objects in the Hidden Picture thing, I began reading a page of riddles and jokes. There was one joke that I totally did NOT get (and can't remember, so don't even!), and had to actually ask my grandma to explain it to me.

One of the many millions of times she's mumbled, "Oh honestly, Erin."]

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Place Your Bets Now

conversations, Henrying, Hockey, That I Hate, Things About Henry

Apr 232010

On the way home from work tonight, Henry and I talked about this nutcase who stabbed his wife to death because she was angry with him for staying up to watch the Penguins game last night, triple overtime and all.

“It would be the reverse in our house,” I laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure there’s more to the story. She was probably a NAG and NAGGED him for the last time,” Henry said with great enunciation, taking his eyes off the road to glare at me.

“Oh, please,” I sneered. “If anyone is going to be doing any killing, it’s me.”

“But the difference,” Henry explained, “is that you’d never know I was coming. You, on the other hand, would probably trip and fall before you even left the kitchen with the knife.”

Upon further thought, Henry added, “No, you probably wouldn’t even be able to find the weapon you wanted to use, and would end up having to ask me.”

Oh, you just turned this into a competition, Douchebag Henry.

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fine. an appreciation post.

Henrying, music, That I Like, Things About Henry

Dec 122009

Wednesday night, Chooch was over Janna’s house, making her family think he’s some kind of angel or something. Feeling inspired to listen to something other than the stack of MP3 CDs I have in the car, I backpeddled to one of my CD racks, closed my eyes, and plucked out a CD by the Pale to listen to on my way to pick up Chooch. (Yes, a CD! Remember those?) I vaguely remember liking The Pale enough to put them on mixes back in the day – I think this might have been circa 2003-4. I also vaguely remember that they changed their name to the Pale Pacific sometime after the release of this album and I never really followed them after that.

The first song didn’t really move me much, but by the time the opening notes of the second tracks filled my freezing car, I was 24 years old again, it was spring time, and Henry and I were walking in a cemetery. And then I listened to the words, really listened, and suddenly my face was wet and I was murmuring “Aw” out loud and I swear to you, the last eight years of my life flashed by and it hit me, fucking cold-cocked me in the face, and not that I didn’t already know, but I was taken over by this overwhelming realization of how lucky I am to have Henry. Yes, I said it! I have fucked up so many times that it’s almost like, why get a job? I have one! I work in the Fucking-Up Lab. And somehow Henry forgives me every time (though he keeps track).

I am the one who can solve all your problems
A savior with only you to save
That’s why I’m here
At least I tell myself that
The motivation becomes so blurred

Henry’s always picking up the pieces (sometimes quite literally, because I’m a destructive wild woman), always making sure I don’t run off with a razor blade/bottle of sleeping bills/keys to the car, always supporting me even when everyone else is placing bets for me to fail.

And you want them to see
And you want them to know
But they never find the real you
You never once complained
But now twenty years are gone
And you’re ready to explode

That’s me, Vesuvius Rachelle.

In light of recent events, I’ve just been finding perspective everywhere. In music, in my little family, in my underwear. It doesn’t matter if not everyone appreciates you, as long as that one person does. So, I don’t know. I guess, thank you Henry. And don’t get too used to these PDAs.

The Pale – Gravity Gets Things Done

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