Jun 112017
 

WOOOOOO PENGUINS! SUCK IT, TRASHVILLE! Go choke on your booing and terrible fucking National Anthem singers. You’re the worst. 

I love how hated my team is. Everyone else gets so up-in-arms when they win the Stanley Cup! It makes it even more fun for the rest of us! 


Wow it’s really hard to believe that all those disparaging Crosby & Murray chants didn’t impede on their ability to win the Stanley Cup. And I bet Crosby’s feelings were really hurt when everyone was screaming that he sucks as he skated around joyously with the Conn Smythe and the Stanley Cup. 

BEST.TEAM.EVER. Penguins 영원히!

Sep 072016
 

You know how much I love hockey (specifically the Penguins!), my friend Kaitlin (and her baked goods!), and fine OK also Barb and Wendy? Well, all of those things came together last Thursday when Kaitlin invited us to party with her and her husband Danny….AND THE STANLEY CUP! Danny is the assistant equipment manager for the Pens and it was his day with the Cup (because, ahem, the Penguins won it this year in case you missed it), so they planned a party at Cool Springs Sports Complex and it was so elite that we had to bring our invitations in order to be admitted. I was really excited about the part where the invitation only extended to those it was addressed to, so SEE YA LATER, HENRY.

Henry acted like he didn’t care. “I have to work anyway, so oh well.”

Yeah, so did I but I took the day off because I’m a true fan. Suck it, Henry.

Wendy brought Summer, who stole the show, as usual. It was hard to compete with her for Barb’s attention!

I mean….that’s cute. Even I have to admit that.

For a baby, she’s pretty laid back and I can respect that. I bond with her from a safe distance by rolling my eyes, and then smiling when no one is looking.

When we were standing in line, she dropped Wendy’s phone and I picked it up for her. Teamwork.

Also, Wendy made her pull my hair.

STOP. They tasted just as glorious as they looked, how do you do it, Kaitlin??

Ugh, look at all the baby ephemera strewn about our table. Way to go, Wendy! Meanwhile, Barb was rambling about how she’s so obsessed with money lately and I can’t remember the context but it made me crack up, as Barb-related things generally do. (I have a Snap of her in the background saying, “I’m so obsessed with money anymore, it’s pathetic.” It’s my new favorite Barb Quote.)

#stanleycup AF right now.

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A Zia Dessert table, which I’m sure was a big reason A LOT of people RSVP’d “yes” to this function. I really miss working with Kaitlin, but I have to tell you this: I’m like, 20 pounds lighter now that she doesn’t work at The Law Firm anymore. NOT SAYING THERE’S A CORRELATION THERE.

These Penguin gummies were super adorbs, but we swapped them out for another table’s Twix centerpiece.

Kaitlin mentioned that she felt really bad for not telling us we could have brought spouses/Henrys with us, but then she looked at me and said, “But I’m sure you loved rubbing Henry’s face in it!”

YES, YES I DID.

Kaitlin was in San Jose when they won the Stanley Cup and she got to go on the ice and in the locker room, and if I didn’t adore her so much, I would have been eaten alive by jealousy!

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In a moment of bravery, Barb decided to lift the Cup. I was really afraid she was going to drop it and I cried out,”Barb no!” but then she opted to just gently tilt it instead.

“Wow, that thing is HEAVY,” she said after our photo op. I wonder how much time she spent thinking about how much it’s worth, since she’s so obsessed with money now.

So, that was my Thursday with Stanley! I will be forever grateful for Kaitlin including me in Danny’s special day!

Jun 222016
 

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Pittsburgh threw a huge victory parade for the Penguins last Wednesday and it was estimated that over 400,000 people were in attendance! I was one of those people because I have the convenience of working downtown so me, Amber2, and Mitch took an early lunch and walked on up to the parade route where we were fortunate to get a really decent spot only three heads back! (This was after Glenn reminded me to pee before we left so that I wouldn’t go in my pants.  #workdad.)

All the pacing and panicking I had done that morning was in vain, because it ended up being totally chill and one of the very few times I can recall ever feeling like I belonged somewhere in Pittsburgh, and that the idea of bumping elbows with hordes of Yinzers didn’t repulse me. Everyone standing around us was so wonderful!

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….except for this creepy Steve from Blue’s Clues douchebag who came bursting through the crowd out of nowhere as soon as the parade started and wedged himself between Amber and me. I was like, “THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM, DICKSTICK?!” I eventually slipped around him and forced him to move over so I could have my old spot back, but this put him in the crosshairs of some VERY ANGRY YINZER MOMS who started screaming things like, “WE BEEN STANDING HERE FOR 4 HOURS AND NOW WE CAN’T SEE, YA JAGOFF!” and he would just turn and look at them with this infuriating pudding face and then resume taking photos with his dinky point-and-shoot.

I told Amber that he was actually kind of scaring me and she offered to switch places but I decided that I needed to be BRAVE and take a stand. Also, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to see if we switched.

I kept watching his hands because I was so afraid he had a grenade in his pocket.

But then all I could focus on was all the glorious PENGUINS driving past us so he could have been holding a butterfly knife to my throat and I may not have noticed because of all the hearts in my eyes. It sucked not having there Henry there but he couldn’t leave work and I’m a bigger fan than he is anyway, so oh well. Suck it, Henry.

The Bonino Bonino Bonino guy was there!!!!

My friend Kaitlin’s husband, Danny! I always get so excited when I see him in the background of the games on TV. It’s like kind of knowing a celebrity!

Kris Letang!

TURN AROUND BILLY, UGH.

TURN AROUND DUPUIS, UGH.

I think Fleury was sitting across from him too, ugh.

Henry and I were talking about Fleury earlier today and I started crying. :(

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2/3 of the HBK line!

Sheary, Kuhnhackle and Lovejoy.

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You guys. Mario Lemieux. Heavy breathing.

Bonino and Kunitz!

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The Malkin Mobile!

The greatest. 🐧🏆🏒

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Oh you guys, it was just too much for me. I cried some legit tears. This team just means so much to me! What a great day!

***

The other day, I noticed that Amber has her Thank You, Pens! sign hanging up on her desk and it’s in near-immaculate condition. I have no idea how she was able to preserve it. It was so hot that day that as I was holding the sign between my arm and side, it adhered to my sweaty, moist skin and part of the Pens logo transferred to my arm so it looked like I had a huge bruise for the rest of the day.

No one asked about it, but I was prepared to blame it on when I tackled Blue’s Clues right before he was able to launch his grenade.

Jun 132016
 


HEAVY.BREATHING. 

They fucking did it! The Penguins won the Stanley Cup tonight, at the exact moment Pierce the Veil was singing King for a Day at the House of Blues in Cleveland. I was trying to divide my attention between both the show and the game via Penguins alerts on my phone and it turned out to be OK – I was sad at first that I wasn’t going to be able to watch; me! The girl who watches every regular season game except when I’m at a show, and even then I’m getting alerts on my phone because I can’t quit you, Penguins. The girl who starts sobbing out of the blue when thinking about them because I just really care about them, you guys. 

But it ended up being kind of amazing, after all the shitty news in the world and my own personal life, all the tragedy and sadness, here was a moment to come together with people through music and sports, at the same time. It made my heart feel so full. Henry didn’t go to the show with us, but after he was done “driving around” a/k/a looking for strip clubs, he parked across the street from House of Blues and said that when the Pens won, tons of screaming erupted in downtown Cleveland. So awesome. 

The best part is that Chooch was into it this time. He has finally, if not reluctantly, crossed over to the official Pens fan side of the house, and he was anxiously asking for game updates all night. And when there was only 3 minutes left in the 3rd, I kept maniacally refreshing my Pens app while he leaned over to look and we both sang, nay—SCREAMED, along to “King for a Day.”

What a fucking beautiful night. And, as we drive home from Cleveland, we just drove under a traffic alert sign on 79 that said “Bring Home the Cup.”

OH IT’S COMING. 

Jun 102016
 

Forgive me Father, it has been x-number of days since my last bullet point post. I was going to just make up a number because I don’t feel like counting, but that would be LYING, and I can’t LIE while I’m blog confession.

Everyone knows that.

  • Lady on the trolley behind me this morning made some annoyed exclamation when a lady came on and said something too loudly, but now this same lady is on the PHONE right behind my head and she is so fucking abrasive and I’m like “Hey remember when you thought that other lady was being loud? Well….” DONT TALK ON THE PHONE ON PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION. No one wants to hear about your relaxing vacation and how you think you have a bug now.
    • From what I gathered though, some baby had been born and then there were no pictures of Laura and Ricky holding the baby and Trolley Lady kept muttering, “NO, THAT’S WEIRD. THAT SOUNDS WEIRD TO ME. THERE’S SOMETHING STRANGE ABOUT THAT.”
  • So last week, Henry’s Work Bromance told him that if the Pens/Sharks series went past 4 games, then he’s take Henry to Game 5 with him, since his wife gets tickets from work or something. I fucking threw a fit so hard that I almost had another baby, that’s how hard my body was contracting. The sheer incredulity of this proposal had literal foam seeping past my lips. Why should HENRY get to go to game 5 when he can’t even stay awake for an entire game? When he doesn’t care about watching the regular season games with me? WHEN HE CALLS IT OFFSIDES WHEN ANY REAL HOCKEY FAC KNOWS IT’S OFFSIDE?!  Ugh!! “And so I told him that if he goes, I will never talk to him again!” I huffed at work. “Sounds like a win/win to me,” Glenn said in his typical lifeless cadence.

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  • Penelope is super needy in the morning. The rest of the day, forget about it—she wants nothing to do with the humans. But man, in the mornings when I’m trying to get ready for work, she is all over me, like, “Hey lady, you don’t have enough cat fur on your wardrobe. I can help you with that.” I almost missed the stupid trolley shuttle the other morning because I had to run back into the house to fashion an impromptu fur-removal apparatus out of packing tape when I realized, after walking out into the bright light of day, how much fur was on my dumb pants.

  • Hockey. I can’t stand it. Ugh, that’s a lie. I love it. But my fucking heart, man. The Penguins had a chance to clinch last night, to win the fucking Stanley Cup here at home, but things did not go as planned, because you can’t make plans when there are HOCKEY GODS watching diligently from above with steepled fingers. So you know what’s going to happen? I’ll tell you what is going to happen: the Penguins are win it in game 6 in San Jose. And do you know where I will be? At the House of Blues in Cleveland, trying to divide my attention between Pens alerts on my phone and Pierce the Veil performing their new album in its entirety right in front of me. Yep. The girl who watches every fucking regular season game (except for when she’s at a show, but even then she’s constantly checking her phone) is going to miss game 6 of the Stanley Cup finals.
    • DON’T GET IT TWISTED: I’m not saying I want them to lose so that I can be home to watch a game 7! No way. Get it done in San Jose, please. OMG.
    • Guess who didn’t go to game 5, by the way? HAHAHAHA. Not Henry, and not his work bromance either! Apparently work bromance’s wife was angry at him for not getting his hair cut so she ended up using the tickets anyway and guess who went to bed before the second period was over? HINT: Not me, not Chooch, not the dumb cats.

  • NERD ALERT: On the way to Michigan a few weeks ago, Chooch practiced his Latin roots. Henry was all, “Have your mom help you, she took Latin.” Taking Latin and actually knowing Latin are not the same! I’m actually trying to find someone to translate “One Sixteen” for me because I don’t know if “One” should be Unum or Unus. And I mean, that’s pretty basic Latin 101 bullshit right there.
  • The other night, Chooch pulled a Ziplock bag out of his backpack and I cried, “IS THAT WEED!?” “Yeah, it’s weed. Shaped like bread,” he said with an eye-roll. SORRY. MY EYES ARE BAD, REMEMBER.

  • That time Chooch had a fan at some family restaurant in Howell, MI. The dad kept trying to get the baby to turn around and apologized to us. I was like, “Pfft, it’s fine; this one used to do that too.” And Henry mumbled, “He still does.”
    • I was only being nice and personable because this was The Breakfast before Bled Fest.
      • Ugh, I miss you Bled Fest. </3

  •  I “published” issue #3 of the department ‘zine a few weeks ago and it turned into a Big Thing. Glenn recently got chickens and I thought that would be a fun activity for the ‘zine — find how many chickens are hidden in there. I had all sorts of chickens: ones that I drew, real chickens photoshopped in places where dogs and wedding bouquets should have been, a bucket of KFC, etc. So Lou came over and proudly announced that he had the correct answer and that I should add his name to the drawing I was having. Except that he was way off, because he was only counting the actual pictures and not the words (there were numerous chicken shout-outs!), so Lou threw a fit and said that the instructions were unclear and Glenn piped up that my contest was flawed and I was like, “MAYBE WE SHOULDN’T HAVE ANY MORE CONTESTS AT ALL THEN.” Ugh, this is what I get for telling lawyers to count chickens.
    • The moral of the story is: make shit as easy as possible or be prepared for the ensuing uproar.
      • Because of Lou, I had to start including ALL ANSWERS in the drawing, whether they were correct or not. I call it the Lou Clause.
        • Is that what clause means? I’m not a lawyer, lul.
  • Speaking of lawyers, Todd said that he’s going to represent Glenn when Glenn sues me and for some reason this made me laugh to the point of tears.
  • The other day, I went for a lunchtime stroll with my old work friend Debbie! She only just works right across the bridge from our building but I don’t see her nearly enough. We went to Market Square and there were all these giant games set up, so we decided to play giant Kerplunk. Look, I’m not trying to brag or anything, but I was so much better than the two little girls I was playing against.

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  • Henry said he doesn’t want to add anything to this bulletpoint extravaganza.

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  • Succulent serial killer. ^^^^

  • Chooch took a stupid poll on Facebook to see which cat everyone thought was the cutest and of course almost everyone voted for DREW either because they know Chooch well enough to know that Drew is HIS cat and Penelope is MY cat, and also he used the worst, most blurry photo of Penelope. We had a legit fight over this and he was so smug and I cried.
    • But if this is a real contest, then come on, Marcy all day, err’day.
      • RIP, Marcy :(

  • The above excerpt is from a blog post 2 years ago when I was just as bad at parenting as I am today. THIS IS LIKE A BLOG WITHIN A BLOG, WHOA.
  • I was telling Lauren here at work that even before the hockey game started last night, I sat down on the couch and began weeping. Like, straight sobbing, you guys. Nerves, stress. Unwavering and unabashed love for the Penguins. It all just got to me and the emotions bubbled over. “You know what’s funny?” Todd piped up from two desks back. “The same thing happened to me.” SUCH A JERK.

  • This was Drew’s reaction to the SHOPVAC Henry had to bring up from the basement in order to clean up all of the DIRT AND PLANT CARNAGE she created in the living room. I texted this picture to Wendy and she was like, “the fuck is a shot vac?” because auto-correct changed it, and she thought I was literally torturing my cat by shooting things at her. Then I realized it was spelled like that on Instagram too, so…great.
  • I just got home from dinner with Barb, Jeannie, and Wendy. We were originally supposed to go to DeBlasio’s but then Wendy changed everything up at the last minute because a tunnel was going to be closed or something so we ended up going to Olive Garden instead and Jeannie was a big crybaby about chain restaurants but then was thoroughly impressed that the tables there are equipped with electronic thingies that you can order/pay/call your server/play games on, and Wendy was all, “Oh yeah, Red Robin has those too.” And Jeannie was all, “Oh wow, another chain restaurant.” And then I accidentally called our server and we all panicked but when she got there (like 10 minutes later, we clearly weren’t a priority), I blamed it on Barb. Barb just looks like the type of person who would accidentally push a call button. And then Wendy went to the rest room and we all stole Summer’s snacks because I was raving about how I used to eat them all the time when Chooch was a baby so then everyone had to try them. Puffs are the bomb, man. Summer was not thrilled with us.

  • A few days ago, I had arrived to work just in time to see a large truck too long to make the turn next to my building. Henry would have had an erection if he had been there to help him.
  • Henry and I wanted a Genesis documentary last Sunday night and it really put me in a lingering zone. I’ve seen Phil Collins solo, but never Genesis, and maybe that’s a good thing because I might actually drown on my tears and die. It could happen. You probably have never seen me cry over music.
  • I went to lunch today with one of the groups in our department and the Muhammed Ali funeral procession was on all of the TVs the entire time and that was pretty morbid but we still couldn’t stop looking.
  • Chooch just went outside to “think about life.” That lasted literally 2 seconds before he came bounding back in and screamed, “DADDY LET’S PLAY A GAME.” Monday is his last day of school. 4th grade was fucking terrible (not academically, at least) and I’m so ready for it to be over.

And now I leave you with #SexyCarWash:

Henry doesn't approve of "Sexy Car Wash."

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May 262016
 

pensconference

What a goddamn series. I love hockey, but sometimes I honestly think it’s going to put me in an early grave. There were several times tonight where I thought I was going to punch myself in the face!

Most of the games in this Tampa series I wound up watching alone because Henry goes to bed so early because he’s almost 51 I guess. But this was Game 7 and he managed to stay awake for the whole thing, plus Chris came over and watched most of it with us so that really helped because conversation was a welcome distraction (oh bitch please, don’t worry, we still screamed our dumb faces off). Lucky for the Internet I didn’t have to use live-blogging as a distraction this time!

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What a night. I’m so overheated and my heart palpitations are finally starting to subside so I’m going to dunk my head in a barrel of cold water and then go bed. PENS!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! Panic starts all over again on Monday!!

May 242016
 

I feel like I need to bullet-blog through the hockey game tonight because I can’t stand these games and I need something to keep me busy or else I will straight have a coronary right here in my stupid living room. So let’s pretend like we care about all the daily minutia that occurs in the life of this basic bitch.

  • Terry ordered puppies last Thursday at work! It was a super exciting ordeal because who doesn’t want to abandon work for a few minutes to be kissed by some fucking adorable puppies? Goodamn serial killers and Donald Trump, that’s who. Uber was doing some charity thing with the Humane Society where you could literally call up an Uber and they’d bring you puppies to play with, and then the money you pay for the Uber went straight to the Humane Society. What a fucking genius idea! We all enjoyed it immensely, but no one more than Michele, who ended up being so smitten and puppy-drunk that she went out and adopted one a few days later! God, I love a happy ending. (All versions.)
    • I get really emotional around animals, so even though I was happy to pet some puppies, I still cried because crying is just what I do. It’s fine. I own it. I really miss having dogs, though!
    • guess who didn’t go outside to see the puppies? Glenn. But we already know he’s a serial killer.

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  • Here I am with my very first dog, WALLY. WALLY WAS SO WONDERFUL! RIP IN WALLY! :(
  • Emarosa’s new single “Helpless” has been getting some actual radio play on some Detroit radio station! Tonight, they were up against Brand New for some battle of the band thingie and Bradley was all, “Hey Twitter, call and vote” and when a band I like tells me to do something, I’m probably going to do it, even if that means using my phone as an actual phone which is like my least favorite thing to use my phone for. Ugh, what the hell, Emarosa. The first time I called, I HUNG UP WITH THE DJ ANSWERED BECAUSE OMG PANIC, ANXIETY, WILL I START STUTTERING, WHO CAN EVEN GUESS?! So then I called back and of course the dude couldn’t just take my vote and hang up, he had to start asking me questions like “what is your name” and “where are you from?” and I got a super fan-girl lilt to my voice and PLEASE I HOPE THEY DIDN’T PUT ME ON AIR UGH.
    • It’s hard to believe that I used to do this shit for sport! I can’t tell you how many mix tapes I’ve collected where each song is preceded by “This is SUSIE, from CLAIRTON.” That was my go-to name and location.
  • Chooch has been really into Music.ally for a while now and I guess this is basically admitting that I’m out of touch, but I think it’s dumb as fuckkkkkk. Especially when he wants me to help him film shit. But then when we were at my grandparents house over the weekend, he roped Corey into assisting him and I have to admit, it was pretty funny.

#littleblackdress #emarosa #musically #notmybathroom

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And here is another one that I like:

The best ending. 😹 #musically #catsofinstagram

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  • 10 more minutes until this stupid hockey game starts. I just can’t with Stanley Cup playoffs. Henry never stays awake for the end so I’m always alone, freaking out, and having no one to console me. Thanks, fuck boy.
  • Speaking of Henry, he broke his phone so he’s been using some spare phone from work and it’s a FLIP PHONE with NO INTERNET ACCESS lol forever. I downloaded a new emoji keyboard just so I could send him a “cuz” emoji  because I always try to get him to say “Sup cuz” to his “friends” and he gets so mad because “I DON’T TALK LIKE THAT!” Anyway, he was so angry because he had to actually download the emoji to see it and it took him so long and then he was like, “REALLY, ERIN? ALL THAT FOR THIS?!”
    • Looks like Erin wins again!

  • I had breakfast at Pamela’s with Jeannie, Wendy and Summer on Saturday. Wendy made us go to a different Pamela’s, one that was more convenient for her, god forbid, and I was so mad because there was construction and I had to go some weird way IN THE RAIN and I got all stressed out! And then on top of that, Wendy made fun of me because I apparently made a really excited face as I was showing Jeannie the picture of me with Carly Rae Jepsen! UGH! But I had a good banana walnut pancake and Summer is always nice to look at (but not hold, because I haven’t completely lost my mind).
    • I was going to pay for Wendy’s breakfast as a belated birthday thing but then she got the wrong order and the waitress took it off the bill so happy birthday, Wendy! I did that for you!  You’re welcome.

MEOWSEUM.

  • GAME HAS STARTED. I FEEL SICK.CHOOCH WON’T STOP TALKING AND I’M LIKE “SON I MOSTLY LOVE YOU BUT GOOD GODDAMN SHUT YOUR FACE FOR A MINUTE.”
  • Has anyone nicknamed Tampa’s goalie “Vagisilevski” yet?  This series has made me feel very disoriented. Nothing feels familiar. And Henry has already gone to bed?!?! It’s not even 8:30!
  • WE ARE LOSING. I HONESTLY RIPPED OUT A CHUNK OF HAIR.
  • We had cake at work and I didn’t eat any because diet but right about now I’d like to fucking suffocate myself in it.
  • NO FUCKING GOAL!!!!!!!!!! OFFSIDE!!!!!!! WOOOOOOO!!!!!!

  • Bought a bunch of new plants over the weekend and apparently the cats smoked crack yesterday and went on a fucking spree. Let’s just say it’s a good thing Henry came home before me and cleaned up the carnage because from what I could tell, there was a lot of plant guts and broken glass. For Henry to say, “It was bad, real bad” then you know it was spectacularly horrendous because homie don’t exaggerate.  So by the time I came home, I was ready to unadopt those little assholes. And you know what they did the rest of the night? SLEPT ON THE COUCH BECAUSE THEY WERE SOOOO EXHAUSTED.
    • I blame Henry for this because he hasn’t built me a myriad of shelves like I keep asking for and he also has ignored every hanging planter DIY I’ve sent him.
  • I’m going to have to give myself a pixie cut to even out my hair after hockey is done for the year.
  • Also, I feel like I need to eat something. A stick of butter maybe.

  • I found a stack of old photos in my Pappap’s desk, including several featuring y birth dad. This was a pretty big deal for me because I have very few photos of him and the ones I d have, his face is barely visible, almost like it was on purpose. LIKE MAYBE HE WAS A VAMPIRE. I can’t believe I have never considered this theory before. Anyway, I found this great photo of him and me at the circus and this image of me surrounded by so many clowns envelopes me in fuzzy wings made of joy and a slight echo of maniacal laughter. Man, I have just always loved those fucking painted-faced derelicts.
  • Oh great, Geno got a fucking penalty. Time to hold my nose and dunk my head in water for 2 minutes.
  • We’re leaving for Michigan after work on Friday and I am so fucking ready. (I mean, I still have to pack.) I’m beyond stoked for Bled Fest but also just as stoked for the next day when we get to hang out with our pals Bill and Jessi! We haven’t seen them since our poorly-planned road trip two summers ago so we are way past due for some quality friend-o time.
  • 5-on-3 for a 1:19 — come on Pens! OMG my stomach. My bowels are going to start leaking. I can’t stand this stress.
  • KESSEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  • OK. 1-0 Pens. End of 1st period. This is good. I’m OK. I’m breathing.

  • The original bae, Robert Smith. I GET TO SEE HIM AGAIN NEXT MONTH, LORD HELP ME. It’s hilarious to me that I drained my savings to go to Australia to see them play on what Robert claimed was their “last tour” ever. And yet I’ve seen them four, soon to be five, times since then. Still, I’m glad that happened! Easily the greatest moment of my life. I mean, um, after having Chooch. I guess.
    • Can I just say that it’s a tie?

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  • ^^^What I’m going to look like if the Penguins lose this goddamn game.
  • Well, Chooch and I wanted to share an apple but we couldn’t find the apple corer and neither of us are allowed to use big knives so we tried to bully Henry into waking up and coming downstairs to cut the apple but then thank god I found the apple corer because it was starting to look grim for us, and I didn’t want to resort to Plan X, which was take the apple upstairs to Henry with a knife and then stab him with the knife.
    • Basically what I’m saying is that this night could have taken a much different, dark, dastardly turn instead of us sitting here eating an apple harmoniously.
      • Goddamn, this apple is a stunner. I just made Chooch go find out what brand it is and he has reported back that it’s a Gala. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN.
  • There were some outlander broads on our floor last Friday. I guess Glenn knew one of them from another job he had so she stopped to chat with him (I know, I was surprised too); meanwhile the other broad was like, “Wow…” in kind of a disgusted tone, and I noticed she was looking at my adorable Fiji mermaid. “Yeah, welcome to the freak show,” Glenn mumbled but I think he was secretly smug, like, “yeah, that’s right, I get to sit behind the most interesting work space in this joint.” A few seconds after they left, I stood up, turned around, and cried, “WHO WAS THAT?” because randos don’t come on our floor very often and I was intrigued that Glenn knew these ones. Todd made some comment about how he didn’t realize I was at my desk for that, since I hadn’t chimed in with any retaliations to Glenn’s snide remarks. “I had jellybeans in my mouth,” I said with a shrug. #missedopportunity
    • Amber2 said that the one broad was making googly eyes at Glenn while talking to him, AH HA HA HA!!!
  • OH YOU GUYS, PENS SCORED!!! 2-0!!! Not getting my hopes up. I feel dizzy AF.
  • I asked Henry if he will live blog during Bled Fest and he got all incredulous and indignant so that surely means yes.
    • Real talk, though, I hope I don’t get hurt at Bled Fest.
  • Things with my mom are going well, thanks for asking!!
  • Today I decided that if I do less work, I’ll probably make less mistakes, right? I sucked all-around today.
  • Pens are on the power play now! I need my boo Malkin to score.
  • HEY HAVE YOU SEEN “THE WITCH”? We watched it over the weekend and damn was I disappointed. Really boring and not even all that visually stimulating, plus I could barely understand most of the dialogue, stupid fucking Puritans. Super glad I ended up not wasting money on it at the theater! (#tightwad) Henry and I both mumbled, “That was dumb” at the same time and he and I rarely have the same movie reviews because he generally doesn’t like anything anyway unless it was made by the Wayans brothers or has “Bourne” in the title. OR IS PORNOGRAPHY. But that’s a given. Duh. Doi.
    • Speaking of pornography, in my dream last night, we were having a threesome with Frankenstein. I told Henry about it today and he made a disgusted face at me but I think he’d be into it.
  • This period is almost over and then I am going to exercise. Don’t worry. I’ll be back.
  • SID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 3-0!!!!!!!!!!!!!
    • LOL at the person who yelled “CROSBY SUCKS” as he walked down the runway. I bet that really shook him to the core.
  • K I’M BACK. I woke Henry up and berated him briefly because he apparently can’t take me to work tomorrow and you know what that means – trolley time. :(
  • FUCK Tampon scored. :( 3-1. IT’S OK KESSEL. NOBODY’S PERFECT. OMG stop with the Closeup of Shame, NBC.
    • Man, the momentum has shifted for sure and I do not like it. Pens need to get another goal and fast.
    • MAYBE I SHOULD TURN OFF THE TV.
  • Hate me if you need to, but am I the only one who found that Chewbacca Mask bitch annoying as fuck? I didn’t even realize it was such a big deal at first and literally thought it was just one of my friend sharing a video of someone they actually knew, so I watched it before I realized there was hype around it and I was just like, “_______” Henry walked in and said, “What are you watching?” because I apparently looked irritated, and I just said, “I don’t know. Some really stupid video.” I mean, props to her for getting her 15 minutes and I swear I’m not a hater, but….man. Standards just get lower and lower.
  • MY GENO BEST NOT BE HURT.

  • “Call It Lust” by Dora Maar was my jammmmm back in 2005, but I lost the mp3 I had of it years ago. Then a few months ago, someone put it up on YouTube and I honestly fell to my knees and rejoiced. You can ask Henry (412-605-2143). He had to sit here and watch me freak out and scream, “ONE MORE TIME!!!!” every time it ended. I have a very obsessive personality.
    • AND I HATE YOUR BREATHING.
    • I was friends with these guys on LiveJournal but lost touch. I would give anything to hear them play this song live. Like, in my Pappap’s gameroom.
  • Oh for Christ’s sake, this game is wrecking my stomach.
    • I hate all of the Lightning players’ names.
    • “Back-up goalie Marc-Andre Fleury” — still sounds so weird.
    • OH GREAT, 3-2. SHOULD I JUST GO TO BED.
    • Don’t worry, my hair is now in a bun so I can’t shred it any further. I might call Chooch downstairs so I can start pulling his hair out though. That’s what kids are for.
  • Henry eats pretzels with every meal. And sometimes pretzels are his meal.
  • YESSSSSS FUCKING RUST!!!!!!!!! 4-2!!!!!!!!! 2 MINUTES LEFT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY FUCKING GOD. HEAVY FUCKING BREATHING. ALMOST LIKE FRANKENSTEIN IS HERE.
  • BONINO!!! EMPTY NET!!! 5-2!!! THANK THE MOTHERFUCKING LORD CHRIST OUR HEAVENLY HOCKEY GOD!!!!!
  • Wow, how can I sleep after this. #THATSWHATFRANKENSTEINSAID
  • Yay! Game over. Now I can start stressing about Game 7.

Gotta go. Frankenstein’s on the other line.

Nov 212015
 

Alternately titled: Shit Barb Said At the Pens Game, 11/17/15.

Barb texted me Tuesday morning to see if I wanted to go to the game with her that night. I was already en route to work but I was like UM YES?! The only thing that would make me say no to a Pens game is if I was already going to a show that night or extreme illness. I waited until I was no longer in the car with Henry before I texted him: “BTW going to the Pens game with Barb tonight, LOL.” I wanted him to be jealous but instead he was just relieved that he wouldn’t have to come downtown to pick me up from work like he does every single evening because I deserve only the best.

I’m always happy to have the opportunity to hang out with Barb since I don’t get to see her every day at work anymore, and going to a Pens game with her is like the Ultimate Hang Out Scenario. The whole night was amaze: it was Fleury bobblehead night; the seats were fantastic; the PENS WON!; and I got to make fun of nearly everything Barb said all night, which brought back memories of the notebook I used to keep of all the dumb things she used to say when I sat next to her at work. MEM’RIES.

Here are some Barb moments for all you BR aficionados to chew on:

  • We were talking about how much Henry resembles Mandy Patinkin (specifically his character on Homeland) and that sent Barb down a Mandyhole. “How old is Mandy Patinkin, I wonder? Let’s Google it. Oh look, he has his own website! He was born in 1952. When was Henry born? OK so that makes him how many years older than Henry….” I was like “I didn’t come to a hockey game to do math, BARB” so we closed that chapter, each content leaving it as “Henry is years younger than Mandy.”
  • Then Barb made the mistake of telling me that she got out of bed the other night and made a list of all the TV shows she watches. “Then the next day I saw the list and said, ‘Why did I write this? I know what TV shows I watch’ so I threw the list out.” This is the part of the story where Barb, forgetting who she was talking to,  recounted her list to me.  
  • And here’s the part of the night where Barb tells a dumb joke: “Did you know that Fedor Tyutin has a brother named Rutin? Say both names out loud. ROOTIN TOOTIN.”
  • Then I thought she asked me if I was on the rag, but she was actually asking if I had the bag that our bobble heads were in. And then that made me wonder if anyone ever even says that anymore? I does seem like something Barb would ask someone, though.
  • “You know what I think when I see [Pens coach] Mike Johnston? MILQUETOAST,” Barb muttered with contempt. (It’s true though! He is like, as blank and non-descript as Henry’s t-shirts.)

  • Barb was really into this one guy’s pepper pants, so I tried my best to get a clandestine photo as he left the game. Don’t be surprised if you see her wearing her own pair sometime soon.
  • “He’s so weird looking,” Barb sneered, pointing to Scuderi’s headshot in the program. “I think he looks like Glenn!” I argued. “Pfft, maybe Glenn’s UGLY BROTHER.” I had no idea she was so  adverse to Rob Scuderi’s face.
  • A face she is decidedly NOT adverse to is that of Pascal Dupuis. We talked a bit about how she has feelings for him. She gets really flustered about it, too, so you know it’s real. A few days later, I told her that I told Chooch about this and he was like “What do you mean, Barb has FEELINGS for him?!” and then Barb was all humiliated and also nervous because god only knows what Chooch may do with this new knowledge.

  • This has nothing to do with Barb, but there was a moment when I got to be A HERO. As I sat down after we scored the first goal, I noticed something on the ground next to me. I picked it up and asked the lady next to me if it belonged to her. “Oh that’s my INHALER!” she exclaimed. “I could DIE without that!” and then her daughter was all, “THANK YOU FOR PREEMPTIVELY SAVING MY MOM’S LIFE!” and I was like, “No problem, that’s just what I do.” Barb missed this entire exchange because I think this was when she was Googling “where to buy pepper pants.”
  • Barb spun many yarns of the days when the glass was lower and pucks where chucked out into the crowd with greater frequency. “One time I saw a lady get hit in the side of the head. Man, was there a lot of blood.” She looked kind of AROUSED by this memory, though.

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  • Barb took this terrible picture of me and posted it on Facebook but luckily, everyone was too busy fixating on the man behind us to notice my protruding Leno chin. Anyway, that man wound up having the best, most boisterous Ref heckles and he reminded me of the guy who got Kristy and I kicked out of the Pittsburgh Passion game two summers ago. Barb and I bonded with him and his wife later in the game as they openly and loudly complained of the girls behind them who hadn’t stopped talking about everything but the game from the moment they arrived. “I feel like I’m in Charlie Brown Town. ‘Mwahmwahmwah mwah mwah'” We were laughing so hard, and then later Barb was like, “What was he talking about, anyway?” GOD BARB, try to follow along!
  • Speaking of errant pucks! One flew into the netting near our seats and Barb instinctively ducked. “I SAW THAT! I SAW YOU DUCK!” some old man ridiculed her as he walked past our seats. “God, tell the whole arena, why don’t you,” Barb muttered. “God Barb, it’s like it’s your first hockey game,” I said, getting in one last jab while she was down.

  • When Barb was taking me home, she meant to pull into the church parking lot across the street from my house but undershot the entrance and instead drove into the grass. “Oh my god, I”m so sorry!” she cried. “Are you literally apologizing to God since this is His house?” I asked. But she was just apologizing to me, it turns out, probably because she didn’t want this to go on my blog. YOU’RE WELCOME, BARB!

God, what a great night. I got to see Malkin score two goals (I LOVE HIM, HE REMINDS ME OF MY CAT DON; RIP DON), and laugh at all the ridiculous things Barb said.  Thank you, Barb! You’re the best!

Apr 092015
 

It was a Saturday morning on March 28th, and Henry was having his daily “you people are fucking helpless!” rant, all because I ran out of makeup at the exact moment Chooch suddenly needed a piece of toast. So now Henry had to decide which to do first: go to the store for makeup or make toast. This particular rant ended with “If I end up in the hospital someday, you two are NOT moving into that room with me!”

So it was pretty funny that several hours later, he was dropping off us downtown in order for us to go to the Penguins game.

Alone.

As in: WITHOUT HIM.

“BUT WHERE DO WE GO?!” I cried as Henry slammed on the brakes in order for us to catapult out of the car. It was an area I was unfamiliar with! (Like, all of them.)

“Just follow the people in hockey jerseys!” Henry barked, mumbling ‘idiot’ under his breath.

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This day was notable for two reasons:

  1. Chooch and I were going to put our big kid pants on and handle ourselves independently of Henry. DOWNTOWN.
  2. This was going to be Chooch’s first ever hockey game!

It’s amazing that he agreed to go with me, especially since it was last minute (Barb gave me the tickets the day before — she is the best fairy god mother of all time and I still miss her EVERY SINGLE DAAAAAY), because Chooch hates hockey. And if there is one thing he hates more than hockey, it’s the Pittsburgh Penguins specifically.

I can pinpoint for you the exact moment this aversion, this fiery hatred, started: It was Friday, June 12, 2009. Chooch was three-years-old, and the Pens had just won the Stanley Cup. I was screaming. Like, lunatic-levels of verbal raving. And then I picked up Chooch and started jumping with him in arms, still screaming and woo-ing and crying tears of hockey happiness.

Chooch lost his shit. He started shaking and trying to pull away from the psycho broad shouting PENNNNNNNNNS in his face like some asshole being raptured, and then he was crying too, but not the same way I was. He was crying in the vein of a child in the throes of being scarred for life.

My friend Alisha was there that night, and she was like, “OMG put him down! You’re scaring him!” All of this in conjunction with the neighbors running into the streets outside, banging pots and pans and creating absolute sports-related pandemonium, paved the path for a very traumatic event in Chooch’s life. He probably thought the world was ending.

Ever since then, he has purposely rooted for every opposing team, especially the Flyers, oh how he loves to break my heart by cheering them on out of spite; one time I told him I was going to buy orange balloons for the birthday party HE WASN’T HAVING. But Barb was like, “Maybe if you take him to a game, he’ll change his mind.”

Right away, he said he would go with me and of course he had to wear one of my Penguins shirts because god forbid he should have any of his own. That annoyed him.

“You know I’m going to cheer for the Coyotes,” he warned on the way to Consol, and I promised that I would abandon him in an alley with nary a cardboard box if he even WHISPERED it.

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But then we got there and he was like, “OK. This isn’t so bad.” Also, Henry gave me money so that I could buy him food to keep his mouth shut. That seemed to help.

He was really excited about singing the National Anthem and kept talking about it and talking about it and I was like, “Who gets excited over the Star Spangled Banner, you freak!?” But then he got to have the last laugh because some soldier had returned home from somewhere and surprised his family on the ice right before the game started, so I started crying because I just can’t handle life anymore. Chooch was like, “Are you CRYING? Jesus Christ.”

But then the best thing happened! The game started and everyone started screaming LET’S GO PENS and then CHOOCH was screaming LET’S GO PENS! My heart, oh my heart.

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After the first period, we managed to go to the bathroom separately without losing* each other! WE ARE GETTING SO GOOD AT BEING….people.

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*OK, I thought I lost him for a few minutes, but he was just waiting for me inside the helmet. Which is exactly where I told him to meet me.

Also, Chooch said to me, “I actually didn’t use the men’s room. The line was so long, so I just came back over here by the helmet and used the family restroom.” I love that he has way more ingenuity than me. If the line to the women’s room was too long, I would have just cried about it, peed my pants, felt rage, considered killing myself, and then blogged 87 paragraphs for no one to read about my ill-fated journey.

Chooch just rationally finds another place to piss.

I’M DOING SUCH A GOOD JOB RAISING HIM!

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Here is Chooch coming back from buying a Dilly Bar after spending two periods wearing me down. “Now can I have a Dilly Bar? When can I have a Dilly Bar? Wait…what’s a Dilly Bar, again?” Then he would look at the scoreboard and cry, “IT’S STILL 0-0?!!?” The two older men next to me kept spitting out disparaging remarks about how boring the game was, Kunitz needs to go, Bennett needs to go, shoot the fucking puck. But they were surprisingly not too loud about it so I didn’t get all that upset. And every time they would leave their seats, they would high-five Chooch, so they weren’t all too bad.

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I think what really won him over was Iceburgh, the Penguins’ mascot. We all know that Chooch is a future furry, and he gloms on to mascots every where we go. So, he spent most of the time searching the stands for Iceburgh.

But then in the third period, actual scoring finally started happening so Chooch was like, “Hmm. This is kind of cool.” Except for the times when I would accidentally scream in his ear and then he’d consider going back to hating hockey. I CAN’T HELP IT. I’M A SCREAMER.

“Man, I just really wish you could see Crosby score,” I lamented to Chooch. And then, no less than 10 seconds later, Crosby scored. I wish it always worked that way.

The Pens ended up winning (amazingly, considering the abysmal streak they’ve been on during this season’s homestretch) and Chooch got to see a fight and unfortunately, a grisly hit by Shane Doan on Letang, which stopped the game for a good 10 minutes before Letang was finally able to get and skate off to the locker room, with assistance. Chooch was outraged by all of this and become obsessed with flipping off Shane Doan’s picture in the game’s program.

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Right when we were leaving our seats, some guy walked by and said, “YOUR SHIRT IS AWESOME!” except that he said it to ME and not CHOOCH, and you guys know how Chooch gets when shit like this happens. It was basically like this guy took my eyeball purse and beat Chooch with it, that’s how much it stung him. God, he is so attention-starved! He must get that shit from Henry.

Chooch was so pleasant all afternoon that I caved and bought him a plush Iceburgh. And then we managed to make it all the home on the trolley without accidentally giving the homeless people all of my money (Bleeding Heart Syndrome) or falling off a cliff.

Then we came home and I asked Henry if he missed us and he said no because we were only gone for a few hours. :(

Nov 062014
 

The proposition of “Let’s go downstairs” seemed innocent enough. No, that’s a lie. I was actually quite taken aback and had visions of being knifed/blackmailed/tickled/forced to lick a shoe until I caught Alisha shaking her pack of cigarettes at me. We were at her friend Mark’s apartment, watching the Penguins game, eating pizza and quickly drankin’ our way through three bottles of wine.

“I’ll come too,” Mark decided, since the first period had just ended. He and Alisha grabbed their wine glasses. Not wanting to seem like some wino who can’t be without a glass in her hand for five minutes, I left mine on the table.

I had never met Mark before, but he was very affable from the get-go and had good vanilla handsoap in his bathroom. And even though I usually get annoyed with girls who watch sports for the eye-candy factor, it wasn’t annoying when Mark gushingly admitted to thinking Sidney Crosby is cute.

After Alisha and only Alisha finished her cigarette because she was the only one smoking, not me, I don’t smoke, Mark swung his keys in his hand and went to unlock the front door.

“Oh, shit,” he spat. Alisha and I stood there waiting for an explanation, but all he had to do was open his hand to expose my car keys dangling from his finger.

Mark lives with his brother, who conveniently was in Ohio for the weekend. And of course, Mark’s phone was in the apartment, watching the hockey game that had resumed by that point. His landlord’s number was in his phone, along with his brother’s, which he didn’t know off by heart. Through a phone relay, Mark managed to acquire his landlord’s number, and it naturally went straight to voicemail.

And then a bunch of panicking happened. At one point, we found ourselves sitting in my car, where we at least learned that the score was 3-0 Penguins. I emitted a dialed-back, near-silent “yay….” accompanied by a watered-down roof-raise, because I had a feeling maybe Mark was a little bit too stressed for someone to be punching the roof of a car in jubilation.

“I can always ask one of my neighbors for a ladder,” Mark postulated. Moments before, we had scoped out the back of the house. He lives on the second floor, and there’s a small roof beneath his kitchen window, which he admitted to not locking. Standing on the sidewalk in front of his neighbor’s house, Mark turned to us and asked, “Before I go and ask for a ladder, will one of you actually climb it?”

My hand shot up to the sky. “Me! I’ll do it.” I could sense Alisha looking at me in surprise. But probably it was adoration.

“Hold my glass,” Mark said, shoving it at Alisha’s hand. As he turned to walk to the neighbor’s house, I started jumping up and down in excitement.

“This is fantastic! I’m so excited!” I squealed.

But Alisha, turning somber, placed her hands on my shoulders. “I just want to say that, of all my friends, I am so glad that it’s you here tonight. You are the bravest person I know, and I feel safe in your presence. When this first happened, in fact, I thought to myself, ‘A-Prid, you need to calm yourself right down, girlfriend. You’re going to be fine. Erin’s here, and she’s like MacGyver. She will get us through this. And then you’ll have the rest of your life to bake her chocolate-covered rewards.’”

And then she thrust one of the empty wine glasses at me so she wouldn’t be mistaken for a drunken sidewalk-bound hobo.

Able to procure a ladder, Mark tramped around to the backyard. I followed, beginning to feel the onset of nerves manifesting as prickles in my fingertips. The ladder was sprawled out on the shadowed grass with Mark muttering, “How do you open this thing?” while I scoped out (with eyes stretched out to the size of porn-industry standardized tits) all the things I could potentially impale myself on. Like literal wooden stakes that were used to prop up flowers.

The ladder was opened to its fullest potential and propped against the back of the house. Making sure Alisha and Mark had firm grips on either side, I began my ascent. It was a wobbly ascent. The ground below seemed uneven and I can’t say I felt very secure. But I thought about some really awesome things to help me get through it and by the second rung I was already pretending I was on one of the Real World / Road Rules Challenges, about to win $10,000 for my team and a snowboard I’ll never use. And then I remembered my team was Mark and Alisha and I won’t lie – I considered throwing the challenge.

By the fourth rung, I began ruing the fact that I left my wine on the coffee table.

By the fifth rung, it occured to me that no one asked Mark why he wasn’t shimmying up to the roof to save us. I already knew why Alisha wasn’t – she’s not a team player. And also, I think she once told me she was abused by a ladder one time? Maybe I dreamt that? Oh right, I remember now what it was – she’s allergic to heroism.

I vaguely remember hearing forced and monotoned words of encouragement, in the style of “Bad Actor Reads From Cue Card.” Supportive gems such as “Oh yay. You are. Doing. A great. Job. Yay. Woo.” and “Don’t worry if the a/c unit falls on you! I don’t care about it!” and “I see that weather vane just plunged into your thigh. Can you try to not get any blood on the walls though? Thanks.”

Finally, I was at the top. The only thing left for me to do was turn to my right and swing my body onto the roof. And for the record, I’d like to point out that from the ground, the roof looked flat. But with it half a foot in front of my face, I was able to see that it had a slight peak to it. Awesome. But I had two people below counting on me, and without even swearing once (I KNOW RIGHT), I did a gentle dive over the gutter, where I then landed with the grace of a prima ballerina. And I won’t even remark on how the ladder simultaneously started sliding to the left, except that I just did.

Crab-walking to the kitchen window, it dawned on me that I never thought about what I’d do if I couldn’t get the window open. No way was I going back down that ladder. I once sat in a treehouse for hoursbecause I was too scared to come down the ladder. Granted, I was four. But I haven’t grown up much. I was able to slide up the screen with ease, but the window was more stubborn. Every time I would get a good grip on it with my palms, the top half of the window would jiggle, and I’ve watched enough Dario Argento movies to know that this is not a good sign. Finally, I held my breath and pushed up as hard as I could. The bottom window slid up high enough for me to drop my forearms under it and finally have something other than clammy palms to use as leverage.

And then something that had been hanging on the inside of the window fell and made a loud enough crash for Mark to scream from the ground, “Do NOT break my Fiestaware!” This was right as I was swinging a leg onto the ledge and kicked a bowl that had been placed decoratively on the sill. My arm shot out and grabbed it, which was probably enough of a talent-display to play for the STEELERS. Just as I set the bowl out of harm’s way, my other leg was en route though the gaping window and kicked another Fiesta piece. I saved that one too. I may be clumsy, but ain’t no one ever said nothin’ about bad reflexes. Safely in the kitchen, I straightened up the Fiestaware collection and noticed that the first thing that fell was actually a stained glass window hanging. A quick examination learned me it was unscathed. A good thing, as I would later learn it was the first piece of stained glass Mark made.

There was two and a half minutes left to the second period. I got to see Max Talbot attempt a penalty shot as I poured another glass of wine.

“Hey Mark, you know what’s funny?” I said once he returned from taking back the ladder. “I’ve never climbed a ladder before.” And oh, how we laughed. This was when Mark admitted to not wanting to climb it because he was wearing slippers. And really I have to agree that my ballet flats are way better for house-scaling.

It’s crazy to think about what might have happened had I not succeeded. We’d probably have had to fashion an igloo from leaves and Alisha’s cigarette butts, catch some rats to cook with her lighter. Maybe we could have eventually started a brand new colony down by the river. Oh, the homeless have already done that? Shit.

The “how” isn’t important, but I found Alisha’s diary entry from that night.

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With all the roof-raising I do, it was only natural that I would wind up on a roof someday.

[A note from Present Day Erin: This is one of my favorite memories of Alisha. I miss that broad a lot sometimes. Also, I haven’t climbed a ladder since.]

Apr 262014
 

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I’m sitting here watching the Pens/BlowJobs game with one eye open and am having terrible stomach aches because playoff hockey = ulcers so here is a photo of Marcy because I needed something to distract me and I’ve already taken care of my Springfield on Simpsons Tapped Out.

#inhaleexhaleinhaleexhale

#fleurydontleavethecrease

#dubinskycanchokeonaglacier

Jan 072014
 

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It took three tries before Henry finally dropped his bitchy resting face.

One of the (very) few things Henry and I have in common is our love for hockey. Except that I love it waaaay more. Like, if he talks to me during a Penguins game, I consider back-handing him but I’m trying to move past that phase of my life. I’m all about keeping my hands to myself these days. (It’s a struggle.) And I’m the one who screams at the TV and throws babies at the wall when the refs make bad calls while Henry just calmly looks up from his American Crafter magazine and silently wonders what he missed. I very rarely miss a game even if it means listening to it on my phone at work (ugh) or being That Jerk who constantly checks their phone for updates when they’re supposed to be out with friends or something.

You would think that Henry and I go to hockey games like ALL OF THE DAYS since it’s the only thing we have to talk about late at night when we’re in bed knitting scarves. Well, you’re wrong—we’ve never been to one together ever! (Except for a Wheeling Nailers game in 2010.) Henry actually hasn’t even been to one since like 1991 I think he said, which made me laugh, but then I remembered that I haven’t been to very many more than that. My family used to have season tickets so I was kind of spoiled there for awhile in the 90s, but then my mom decided that having season tickets for hockey AND the Steelers was too excessive and the shitty STEELERS tickets won out. I have so much hate for her because of that. (And, you know, the fact that she all but abandoned me as a daughter, lol.)

Wow. This is quickly going down the wrong path. How about I save that for the memoirs.

Anyway, my Fairy Godmother Barb gave me two tickets to Sunday’s game against the Winnipeg Jets and it was honestly the nicest thing ever. It’s hard enough for me to go to a game because of my shitty work schedule, let alone us both going—tickets are like $$$$ for us blue-collareds and there is always something financially urgent that prevents us from splurging on our one true love. You know, things like rent. Fuck you, rent. So the last several games I went to, it was with friends. Sorry, Henry.

Of course, Barb assumed I would be taking Henry and I let her (and Henry) believe that but really I was monitoring Henry’s treatment of me over the last few days to determine if he had earned the honor to accompany me on such an important date. And he knew it too because he was fucking FAWNING over me Sunday morning. I sighed and let him go with me.

And I was mostly fine with my decision except when he nearly made me FALL INTO A SNOWBANK when we were walking out of the parking lot, ugh I hate you Henry.

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Yay, I found a beer I could drink without grimacing! I was practically a Normal American at a Sporting Event! But then my friend Sean gently pointed out on Instagram that it’s not real beer, in so many words.

Chooch would have been pissed because while Henry was trying to pay for my not-beer, the cashier woman was going on and on about my purse and I was giggling because Yay, I’m awesome for buying a purse on the Internet! But, it does serve as a pretty accurate character evaluation, I guess.  Henry just stood there, frowning and trying to shove his money at her.

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Even frowns at the hockey game. Fuck you.

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I may have cried when the Penguins came out before the game. I JUST REALLY LOVE THEM SO MUCH. :( James Neal kept leaning against the glass straight down from us and I smugly said to Henry, “This is only the SECOND closest he’s ever been to me.” And then, “OMG DO YOU THINK HE REMEMBERS ME?!” Henry just flashed one of those patronizing frown/smirks that he does to wordlessly signify that he thinks I’m stupid.

We were losing 0-2 by the end of the first period and I was in panic-mode because if the Penguins won that day, they were on a home ice win-streak and about to break a record. And it would be all Henry’s fault if they lost, just because, and we would all wear our Blame Henry pins the next day, but I would feel shame too for not taking someone else.

I’m very superstitious.

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But luckily, we won 6-5! And my Prom Date James Neal had two of those goals! But really what this means is that Old Man Henry had to stand up SIX TIMES, you guys.

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What a great game—thanks Barb! And thanks Henry, for being mostly OK to sit next to.

(I asked Henry if there was anything he wanted to add and he almost sneezed in my face.)

Sep 102013
 

I had just arrived to work yesterday and was loitering around Barb’s desk like I’m wont to do until it’s officially my start time, because god forbid I should be in my office-thing prior to 1:30 and have to answer the phone or something. While I was standing there, an office-wide email went out announcing that one of the Pittsburgh Penguins had arrived at the Firm to deliver the season tickets and have his picture taken with the winner of last week’s raffle, which I didn’t enter because it required me to have to leave my department and venture onto another floor alone, and we all know how awful I am at that. I’m a firm believer in the Buddy System.

The email went on to say that if anyone wanted to check out a Penguin in the flesh, just mosey on up to the reception area on the 28th floor. Maybe you know that I’m a pretty big hockey fanatic. I scarred Chooch for life when the Penguins won the Stanley Cup in 2009 and I was holding him and screaming and he was CRYING. I mean, CRYING HIS STUPID THREE-YEAR-OLD HEAD OFF. He was like, “Put me down, Crazy Lady!” and has hated hockey ever since.

“Do you want to go?” Barb asked, and I was like, “Um, if I don’t have to go alone, then yes!”  So I was running back to my office-thing to get my badge-thing, when Amber2 and Girl-Chris (she’s new and likes weird fruit and owls and My Chemical Romance and has gone to Warped Tour and she feeds me, so we’re basically best work-sisters now) were all, “Hey, do you want to go up with us to see who it is?” And that is how we wound up with a real life stalking posse.

I was so frantic about this though that first I almost forgot to grab my phone and THEN I almost fell when I was running around the corner because my shoe was untied. Barb made me tie it in the elevator.

To get to the 28th floor, we have to take the elevator down to the lobby and go to a different elevator bank on the other side of the building. As we were walking over to that side, we saw some old broad holding her phone up to take a picture. We entered the elevator bank JUST IN TIME TO SEE ONE OF THE ELEVATOR DOORS CLOSING ON MOTHERFUCKING JAMES “ERIN’S PROM DATE” NEAL OMFG. We were joking on the way down that they were probably going to send a 4th liner, and Amber2, who loves James as much as me, jokingly wished for it to be James Neal. And then we laughed because why would James Neal want to come to a law firm. BUT THANK YOU AMBER FOR WISHING IT TRUE!!

So we get into another elevator and proceed to freak out while some random woman stood in the corner trying to pretend she didn’t think we were idiots. When we arrived at reception, I was bracing myself to have to elbow-chop my way though a throng of excited law firm workers, but there were like, 10 of us. When we walked in, James was on the upper level with his cameraman in tow, getting ready to be escorted to a private room somewhere down the hall.

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I sent this picture to Henry and he was like, “Nice. Who is it?”

“PROM DATE!!!” I replied, and he was all, “lol.”

It wasn’t the best photo-op, but it was better than nothing! I haven’t been that close to a real life hockey player since 1992! I figured we were going to go back to work after that, but Barb shouted, “Well, he has to come back out sometime!” So we hung around for a few minutes while Barb made us look at these disgusting spiders hanging outside the window and then tried to make up some story about why they like the 28th floor, but thank god JAMES NEAL came back and saved us from Barb’s Nature Hour! We all clapped for him and he smiled and waved and we prepared for him to walk down the steps to our level but sonofabitch if he wasn’t escorted to the elevators on that level.

Barb started running. “Maybe we can get on the same elevator!” she gasped, jabbing at the down button. The door started to open and we all held our breath. But it was empty. I was kind of relieved because I’m not sure I could handle being on an ELEVATOR with the guy. Elevators are pretty much in my Top 5 Most Awkward Locations.

Barb tried one more time before conceding. “They probably have one of those keys so that the elevator will just go all the way down without stopping,” she said, and we all stepped into the empty elevator, accepting that our brush with greatness was just that: a tiny, brief brush from a distance.

The elevator spilled us out into the lobby and there he was, just about to leave through the revolving doors with his cameraman, surrounded by NO ONE. The four us just stood there in a huddle next to the security desk, giggling and acting like basic puck bunnies, which is really so not like me! I love hockey terribly, but I am not the type of person to stalk the players after a game. But it was JAMES NEAL and he is so great, you guys. Just so goddamn great. (And his face is pretty goddamn great too, OMFG.)

I guess his stalker senses began to prickle, because he turned around right before leaving and made eye contact with all of us. Good lord, I can only imagine what we must have looked like to him. A bunch of cats in heat, is my guess.

He smiled at us and I vaguely remember kind of waving back. IT’S ALL A BLUR, OK?

“Do you want a picture?” he asked, and then slowly and cautiously approached us. I don’t know where I got the balls to be the first one to step forward, I think I was operating on pure hockey adrenaline at that point, but then I just stood there in front of him, holding up my phone, forgetting how to even use it.

“Do YOU want to be in the picture?” he asked and I stupidly said, “Oh. OK.” So Girl-Chris tool this picture of me forgetting how to stand next to another human being:

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This photo makes me look like I’ve lost zero pounds since January but I don’t even care because JAMES NEAL. I really need to learn how to stand.

I remember instantly perspiring the moment he placed his hand on my back and almost blurting out: I TWEET ABOUT YOU BEING MY PROM DATE LIKE ALL OF THE TIME!!! But to myself I was saying, “Just keep your fucking mouth shut. DON’T RUIN THIS MOMENT WITH YOUR RETARDED WORDS.”

It was the longest MOST ROMANTIC 5 seconds of my life, after which I slid into the background and proceeded to have full-body shakes while Amber2 and Girl-Chris had their turns (Barb politely declined the photo op and said she was happy just watching us completely unravel into a giggly puddle of estrogen and pheromones). Then one of our other co-workers walked into the lobby on her way back from getting lunch and was all, “What’s going on? I want in on this, too” and then made me hold her half-eaten foil-wrapped burger while she jumped in for a picture. Yes please, let’s add to Erin’s awkwardness by forcing her to hold a hot clump of meat far away from her body like it’s a bomb.

My face probably bore a striking resemblance to that mound of beef in my hand: one blushing, sebaceous hot mess.

I can’t even remember going back to our floor after that. HOW DID WE GET BACK UP THERE?!

Those ten minutes pretty much rendered Amber2 and me useless for the rest of the day. God, what a great day to work at the law firm!! And then it occurred to me that the goddamn cameraman was all up in our grills, so that was a slight urination on my excitement. I hope that shit doesn’t surface anywhere.

I sent Henry this picture and it took him TWO HOURS to reply. Because now he’s afraid that James Neal is going to come back for me, THAT’S WHY. Yeah Henry, you better be fucking afraid. I heard he’s really into nervously frumpy girls who don’t talk.

(Here, go to this post and watch this 30 second video to know how awesome James Neal is. Oh, and have a good day.)

 

May 032013
 

Per my friend Sandy’s request, I am going to live-blog Game 2 of the Penguins/Islanders 1st round playoff matchup thing and pretend like I can string together professional sports-people words and not just HOLY FUCKING SHIT I LOVE YOU SIDNEY CROSBY!!!! and my usual brand of X-rated hockey heckles.

This should be really interesting, because I’m at work and listening to the game on my phone while, you know, working. So keep checking back for updates, OK?!

7:00PM: Mike Lange just reminded us that it is indeed a hockey night in Pittsburgh, so suck it, non-Pittsburghers.

7:01PM: I am going to make a quick cup of coffee. Hopefully I don’t fall into some stupid work conversation while I’m in the kitchen. Or worse — break the Keurig again.

7:04PM: Orange is my least favorite color.

7:11PM: I went to the kitchen and realized I forgot a K-cup so I had to come back to my office and then go back to the kitchen and LONG STORY SHORT I MISSED THE FIRST GOAL OF THE GAME. AND IT WAS A MALKIN GOAL.

7:12pm: This is significant because I am wearing a Malkin t-shirt right now at work.

7:13PM: Islander douchebag got called for slashing, and not the good Jason Voorhees kind either. What a fuck up!

7:16PM: HOLY FUCKING SHIT I LOVE YOU SIDNEY CROSBY!!!! 2-0 you guys!!

7:20PM: My prom date James Neal is not in the line up tonight but I’d still give him the Prom Night Special.

7:36PM: When they say the goalie stopped the hard slapper in his pads, it makes me think of menstruating girls stopping advancing penises.

7:37PM: I just lost about 25 updates. What you missed: The Islanders scored and all their fans probably listened to Nickelback in celebration and then Crosby scored 18 seconds later because he is the greatest hockey player in the world and that is just what he does. Oh, and I hate Fran Drescher. Unrelated.

7:42PM: Letang hammered it down the ice and every girl in Pittsburgh is left wishing that it was his penis he was hammering into their kookas.

7:46PM: Periods. PPs. Hammering. Squirting [pucks]. 2 minutes for receiving. My future hockey porn is going to be so successful.

7:53PM: Thank god, end of first period. Now I can eat my dinner. (Is that OK, Sandy?)

SECOND PERIOD

8:08PM: I’m trying to eat my Lean Cuisine, but how sad is Tavares that he’s stuck on such a shitty hockey team I mean really.

8:10Pm: Remember when our goalie punched their goalie in the face?

8:11PM: Mike Lange just said something about someone having a dozen something and all I can think about is a dozen cupcakes because I’m on a diet.

8:14PM: YESSS Niskanen is fighting Okposo who is essentially a sewer-dwelling black albino.

8:17PM: Guys really, WTF is this?

okposo

8:18PM: Of course the Islanders scored while I was busy finding a picture of this strange albino-hybrid for you, but at least it wasn’t him who scored. Albinos make me sick.

8:22PM: Penguins are on the power play for some unknown reason, woooooo!!! I’m sure it’s because one of the Islanders tried to slit someone’s throat with a hockey stick.

8:27PM: Fuck the Islanders. 3-3

8:29PM: I guess I’m not surprised that the Islanders are playing well. They probably don’t want to get deported to their coach’s secret puppy mill for washed up NHL players.

8:32PM: Don’t albinos have poor eyesight? Or am I confusing them with moles? But albinos are just like human versions of moles, right?

8:34PM: Forgot that my hockey porn will have a “back door” vignette, too. That will probably be Henry’s favorite scene.

8:40PM: Someone got hurt while I was washing my coffee mug. It wasn’t a Penguin though. Thank god.

8:42PM: Double minor what’s up bitches.

8:44PM: There should be an amusement park darkride that takes you on a psychedelic cruise through the last 3 decades of the Islanders’ Stanley Cup-less history. A true Laff In the Dark!

8:47PM: The three Islanders’ goals have mob ties.

End of second period. I’m going home and watching the rest of the game on a real life television. You guys are on your own. Check ESPN or something, I don’t give a fuck.