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.



Nov 212011


Or: Because I’m Too Tired To Write Anything Coherently

It’s been a long time since we hung out with Tommy and Jessy, so we had breakfast with them yesterday and then hit up the flea market for old time’s sake. There was a lot of miscommunication in the past and we are hoping to work through that.

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In any case, it was almost like no time had passed at all. Tommy was still a bully to Chooch and me and Jessy and Henry still spilled stuff all over their shirts at breakfast. Ah, sweet familiarity!


I was in religious jewelry heaven this time around at the flea market. The last few times we went had been complete busts, but yesterday had me salivating over so many cases of creep crucifixes and saint medallions. And inside the flea market, I was buying incense off some dude who complimented me on my gargantuan rings (I like really big rings). “Your jewelry looks great on you,” he enthused, and I didn’t really know what to say to that. My fingers say “thanks”? Anyway, from behind his booth his pulled out a tray of some custom sterling rings he had made for someone. In particular, he wanted me to see the Aphrodite one.

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It was pretty fucking regal, I can’t lie. I started throwing out some ideas to him and he’s now in the process of fashioning me a custom Ganesh ring and I’m pretty excited about that. Tommy was all repulsed and said he was just using his incense and jewelry-crafting skills as a means to hit on me, but I guess I’m just too dumb to see it.


Henry was being super nice to me all weekend, which makes me believe he’s either cheating on me or finally making some bank from the private school kids he’s selling pills to. I found this bracelet that some jewelry dealer was selling at the flea market and when Henry found out he took credit cards, he bought it for me without me having to whine and stomp my feet and I almost died. Henry does a lot of things for me, but spontaneously buying me gifts is not one of them and I’m (usually) OK with that. The trade-off is worth it to me, but there are times when the Old Erin (read: the spoiled brat who had a pappap who took her to Europe every year from the age of 10) whispers to the New Erin that she should just dump this Faygo-slinger for a sickeningly rich widower. One more happy hour at Bossa Nova and I could probably find one; just sayin’, Henry.

Anyway, this same jeweler was also selling this long wooden box with holes in it. Jessy was intrigued and asked what it was.

“It’s an old-fashioned suppository maker,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh. Ok, thanks,” she said and quickly walked away.

I should have bought that, too.


Henry got his boyfriend back, which is probably the real reason why he was being super nice to me.


If I had known Henry was going to be pulling out the ol’ wallet, I’d have made more of a scene about wanting this nightmare-maker.


Later that night, we went to Mike and Laura’s for taco night (THERE WERE BURRITOS THERE TOO, THEY LIED). This was Chooch’s first time over their place and he was getting into everything and making my blood pressure rise. Laura mentioned that she had dominoes and I was like, “Good lord, give it to him!” That actually kept him quiet for awhile, until he started whaling a ball against the wall and spilled a can of Mountain Dew on their carpet and I wanted to throttle him.

Laura said she doesn’t mind him because he makes her laugh, which makes me think she must have had an anvil dropped on her head recently.

Mike mentioned that the throw rug in their living room was from Afghanistan and cost something like ,000 and I quickly said, “Hey, let’s roll this bitch up and move it far away from my son.

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” The phrase “bull in a china shop,” tends to conjure up images of the bull having the face of Chooch.



Laura made me drink like 8 pomegranate martinis and then had me play Uno, which was a true exercise in minding my temper. Henry and I can’t play games together without me wanting to vivisect him with the rusty contents of a junk yard. (He has a fear of falling from the sky into the middle of a junk yard. I like to ridicule him about this and then make sure he’s clear that my phobias are legit and non-mockable.)


I’ve never prepared my own tacos before. I’m usually known to pay someone to do that for me, like someone in a restaurant, Henry, or the Mexican drug mule I keep chained to the basement rafters. But on this night, I spread my wings and did it all by myself, but not without asking everyone things like, “Will rice go OK with what I already have on here?” and “Do I like this stuff?” and “Will this be too hot for me?” Laura pointed out that there was cilantro in something, and Henry was quick to smugly point out that, “Oh, Erin won’t eat that then. She hates cilantro” and Mike said, “Oh, well there’s cilantro in the rice too” knowing that I was already enjoying a burrito with said rice stuffed in it.

“I think it’s the lime and cilantro combination that you don’t like,” Henry theorized, but then Mike said there was also lime in the rice.

“Or maybe it’s just your cooking I don’t like,” I retorted to Henry with my own smugness and he acted all ass-raped.




And then Henry finished off the night with a hearty protein shot. It was a wonderful way to close out the weekend, but we will for sure get a babysitter if Mike and Laura ever decide to have us back.

Nov 222010

I’m home from our weekend trip to Commercialized Amish Exploitation, f/k/a Amish Country, or Lancaster, PA.  It was a bummer, but we still had fun because we were with Tommy and Jessy so shenanigans still played out regardless. I was mostly sad for Jessy because she’s really into shopping for country things but nearly every shop was an overblown tourist trap claiming to be authentic but I had suspicions. We did go to some Amish farm though and bought cheese and rootbeer from a cute little tow-headed Amish boy struggling with his English. I wanted to swap him out with Chooch, who was being a big fucking asshole that afternoon.

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I have lots more to write about the weekend, but I would like to for now just post the pictures I took of Henry in compromising situations. I spent a lot of time laughing at these. Only Jessy thought they were funny. Henry just frowned a lot and Tommy’s  was like, “WTF is wrong with you?” while making covert signs of the crosses and thanking God I’m not his girlfriend. Meanwhile, Chooch was like, “How many times are you going to make weener pictures, Mommy?

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” in an exasperated tone. He is only four, remember. Someday he’ll think this is funny. Unless he decides to just fail me altogether.

This was the one that started it all. I already posted it on Saturday but WHO CARES. Henry, yukking it up in the front seat with his boyfriend Tommy, ooooooh Tommy.

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I looked at it and the first thing I thought was, “I need to find a big Swedish dick, sopping with sweat, to enter that gaping maw RIGHTNOW.” Good thing I kept Chooch’s Doodle Buddy app on my phone (I was going to delete it last week!). This made Jessy and me giggle in the backseat for a little while.

Later that night, just Henry, Chooch and I went to DUTCH WONDERLAND OMG. Chooch and I were walking out of the Wonder House (I’m building one in my backyard, just as soon as I learn how to use a hammer. And build things.) and Henry was standing there with Duke the Dino pressed up against his side. Henry looked all awkward, like, “I swear I was just standing here and then this thing started side-humping me for no reason at all! Baby, you know I only like yellow mascots!” I was sad because by the time I got my phone out to take this picture, Duke had set his sights on erotically asphyxiating some 10-year-old boy. Turns out it was kismet, as far as weener pictures go.

Henry Goes COCKoo for Intercourse. We won’t be much schlonger now, enjoy the dicktivities!

On the way home, we stopped in Hershey, PA and ate at the Capitol Diner. Is it sad that the picture I took there was completely premeditated? I had been thinking of it since I woke up that morning and then nearly forgot about it by the time dinner rolled by!

Mmmm, ejaculicious!

I wish making Henry’s life hell was my job. It’s the only thing I’m good at.

If you requested a postcard, look for it this week! Some lucky bastard might just be getting one from Henry’s Eyebrows! Oh, what luck!