Jul 312015
 

We’re currently headed back north, though we won’t be back home in Pittsburgh until tomorrow. This is the first time I haven’t had a reason to feel homesick while on a trip; it’s a weird feeling knowing that we’re going home to a house void of cats. 

I’m sure Janna is also a bit relieved because I always hounded her for photos and videos of my cats doing fuck all whenever I was out of town. Especially the time we went to Tennessee and Chooch had a full-blown emotional breakdown because he missed Speck so much. Poor Janna had to essentially film the most boring cat documentary of all time with her phone just to assure Chooch that all the cats had continued to exist without him. 

That being said…

 
This is Lahana. I miss her and my other succulents very much. Is that weird? To be so attached to a colony of plants? Maybe I’m just so accustomed to feeling homesick that I needed to find something new to pull me back home. 

Octavia gifted me a succulent for my birthday (I named her Savannah, obvi!).  

And then yesterday, Chooch found something that we think might be a succulent growing on a sidewalk in downtown Savannah, so he “gently” plucked it from the earth and I have been trying to coddle the poor guy as much as possible. I think I’ll name him Leopold. <3    

I’m not in any big rush to get home to boring Pittsburgh and go back to work, but I have to admit that I’m a bit concerned for the well-being of my succulents; I sure hope none of them have perished in my absence. I guess I should have asked Hot Naybor Chris to look in on them. :(

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Jul 302015
 

Today is my birthday! If you felt so inclined to celebrate along with me, It would make me super happy if you either:

  • Listen to one Emarosa song (OR ALL OF THEM!!) 
  • Send me a cabbage-y picture of yourself! Posing with cabbage head boobs, eating cole slaw, etc etc. Text it to me! 412-638-2379 I won’t think that’s creepy or anything, but Henry sure as hell does.

Speaking of cabbage….

  

We ate at some family restaurant yesterday in NC that had cabbage on the menu and I was dying. That’s what happens when you make yourself become obsessed with cabbage for the month of July.

I had a pimento cheese sandwich because when in Wilson, NC….amirite? It was pretty anticlimactic and the okra I ordered was fried and I was sad. I don’t know what I was expecting from a semi-fast food joint: steamed and on a kebab? My expectations are stupid.  But still, okra.

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Jul 292015
 

Today we’re en route to Savannah from Williamsburg, and I am ridiculously bored. Henry has essentially quit talking to us altogether. Which is fine because it’s not like we listen to him anyway. Chooch is playing something dumb on his DS and I’m reading Absolute Punk. So unless you want a detailed account of Buddy Nielsen from Senses Fail speaking out against the current state of the scene, or the recently announced tenth anniversary Juturna tour, then I’ve got nothing. 

So please enjoy looking at pictures of idiot Henry at Busch Gardens yesterday. 

  

Here you can see Henry about to triumphantly walk through his favorite part of the park, where his patriotism and selfless SERVICE stint could be celebrated by all. 
  

Standing in line for the second of the whopping FOUR rides he rode all day. This is actually more than usual, though. (This line was for Verbolten which is my new favorite ride in the whole world. Henry thought it was “fine.”)

  

Looking for a bench so he could push up his glasses and use his phone to look up Pretty Little Liars theories (“A” is really Xavier Roberts!) and home remedies for hemorrhoids. (Fresh cabbage leaves! I’ve learned A LOT about that leafy veg head this month.) 

  

He walks far ahead so people won’t think he belongs to us. And also so he can pretend that he doesn’t hear our cries for food, presents, and STRANGER DANGER, and more food. 

  

My favorite part about lunch at the Festhaus was the fact that Henry didn’t want to eat lunch at the Festhaus. 
  

He got really mad when he sat down at a table far away and then realized Chooch and I hadn’t followed him, so he had to pick up his tray and stomp irritably to where we were sitting. 

 

Henry wore one of his favorite salmon-colored tshirts yesterday and there were TWO OTHER MEN wearing salmon-colored shirts as well, and Chooch and I kept mistaking them for Henry. Also, a man in front of us in line for the Lochness Monster could have easily passed for Henry as well, if only his hair was more full-bodied and McNicol-ish like Henry’s. He even was wearing plain white New Balance shoes which is Henry’s preferred brand!  

Ok I’m peacing out now because it’s nearly my feeding time and I’m about to punch through the roof of the car. LYLAS!

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Jul 282015
 

  I was going to ask if anyone wanted to blog about their favorite cabbage-centric recipes while I’m away this week, like this Best of Deutschland plate I saw at the Festhaus in Busch Gardens today, complete with a hearty wad of kraut, but my track record at wrangling guest posters is pretty abysmal. However, a new blog friend wrote something even better than a dumb recipe, so please enjoy a guest post by fellow Pittsburgh blogger, Matt Pritt! We have just recently been acquainted and I’m really enjoying learning about him through his blog, and the fact that he worked in radio is sickeningly interesting to me! 

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At this point in time Art Bell might say “The end times are nigh”, what with you coming here expecting words from Erin, Chooch or Henry, though he seems to be of few words. I imagine your level of disappointment would be comparable to all of those guys who had information stored on the Ashley Madison website right about now.

Truth be told, you should be worried that I am here because I come with an Internet robe and sickle. Think I am kidding, I have had three different social Internet platforms die off in my 10 years of blogging. First there was Yahoo 360, yahoo’s venture into social media. A surprisingly user friendly platform, Yahoo decided to scrap it when they thought they could take on Facebook. How is everyone’s Yahoo mash page doing these days? Next on deck for my internet kiss of death was Multiply, another of the user friendly type blogging sites. They thought that they could make money by being the next eBay of Indonesia ( “Jarkarta, hello!” Bonus points if you got the Larry King reference.). Then there was my ever so brief foray into podcasting, which went hand in hand with my time in radio ( more on that in a moment) and a beautiful little site called Imeem, which was bought out by MySpace and we all see how successful MySpace has been. So the fact I am here could mean bad things, very bad things indeed.

As for who I am, well I’m Troy McClure, you may remember me from such past blogs as…….., sorry I couldn’t resist, sometimes, most times actually I do this to entertain myself. Actually my name is Matt Pritt, if you know me, allow me to apologize now for whatever I have done to offend you. If my name rings a bell, and it might for some, I used to be in radio, working as a producer of radio shows by Jerry Bowyer, Lynn Cullen and the late Doug Hoerth. If you have never been a fan of talk radio, don’t start now, there is no point in getting sucked into that cesspool. It is a lot of sound and fury signifying nothing. Go feed the poor or save a whale or something, you will feel much better about your time spent than by listening to talk radio. That is not to speak ill of the people I worked with, I am still friends with all of them, but the process is such that you spend three hours a day saying how right your side is regarding an issue and how the other guy is so wrong and it becomes an emotionally taxing experience.

As for outside of radio, I have been a blogger for over a decade now, though for the most part I have a level of disdain for calling blogging work. I admit that some people use the platform as an extension of their craft, and for them a blog might be work related, but for me it has always been the illusion of work, that by sitting down and banging out an entry or two I have accomplished something, when, truth be told, there are far more productive things I could be doing with my time. I do this because I like it, which I am sure is the same excuse my father used after marriage number 5.

I am a late comer to the Oh Honestly Erin party, so I am learning as I go. Our musical tastes differ slightly, my favorite radio station from back in the day ( us old folks are allowed to say “back in the day”, as well as “get off my lawn” ) was WXXP, you know Pittsburgh’s station that dares to be different, or at least different for the 2 years of its existence, but that too suffered a kiss of death ( my robe and sickle please ). Though they do still exist on a 365 live stream some place, and a reunion show is planned according to their Facebook page ( perhaps an Affordable Floors performance if I may make a suggestion ) but that was the good old days folks, when candy bars cost a quarter and places like the Electric Banana, the Upstage and the Decade were still in existence.

What else is there to say? I am 46 years old, my face’s resting position is a scowl ( thanks for the line Amy Schumer, check out her interview from Ellen, it is hilarious ) and I am the general manager of Smithfield News, which I jokingly say is downtown Pittsburgh’s largest purveyor of pig’s feet. It’s funny because it’s true. At current rate we may end up being the oldest store downtown, provided my robe and sickle doesn’t get in the way of that as well.

If blogging were professional wrestling, my intro music would be “Cause I Said So” by The Godfathers, but thankfully it isn’t, readers of this page have enough trouble keeping up with the musical comings and goings without my dropping obscure 80s references into the mix.

Anyway I hope I didn’t scare anyone away with my nonsensical drivel. Time to turn the page back over to its rightful owner. I am outtie, like a belly button.

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Jul 272015
 

Quick thoughts on my first full day in Williamsburg.  

   
Cheese Shop for lunch, per Jeannie’s recommendation. 
Acquired a deed to property in Williamsburg. (Yes, after three hours of back-and-forth with the resort sales staff, we snagged a deal that fits our lifestyle and won’t bankrupt us.)

Bought a ton of postcards

Bantered with Nelson at the Activity Center when Chooch & I went to check-out tennis rackets. He was fucking nuts, in all of the good ways, and gave us both Popsicles. 

Argued furiously with Chooch while trying to teach him how to play tennis when I myself haven’t played in 19 years. I eventually had to walk away before I disowned him*. I hope everyone enjoyed the show. 

Gleaned another tiny morsel of Henry’s past when he slipped up and divulged more information than he intended when we asked him what kind of tree we were walking past.  Remind me, Blog, to tell you about “smoking trees” at a later date. 

Extreme Ghost Hunt later tonight!

*I’m sure it wouldn’t take long for Chooch to be taken in. Everyone at King’s Creek fucking looooooves him and he’s practically famous here after one day. It’s nauseating. WHAT ABOUT MEEEEEE?? 

  
 

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Jul 262015
 

You know the Liveblogging drill: keep checking back for updates, or abstain and read all at once tomorrow—oh what a treat. I liveblog because Henry ignores me.

7:36am: HI GUYS we’re about to embark on this year’s shoddily planned vacation! Chooch is a fucking hornet and keeps growling and NOW HE CANT GET HIS SHOE ON OH WOE IS HE. Henry just walked past with his hands full of suitcases and said, “I’ll get these; you guys just sit there.” Um, yeah. Duh. 

7:42: Chooch’s shoe still isn’t on and we still haven’t left. The usual. 

7:53: Chooch made me an Emarosa bracelet last night and left it for Henry to tie in the morning. I was watching him tie it and I yelled IS THAT A SERVICE KNOT? He calmly replied, “No. It’s a double knot.”

  

8:22: Just stopped at Sheetz where Henry yelled at us the entire time and made us feel confused about what we were “allowed” to get. I got coffee and some Fig Bar thing and then ran away because I hate road trip Henry. HE’S MEAN. 

8:50: Henry just tried to make some dumb joke and I’m not talking to him so in my head I thought, “Go stick your dick in a cabbage-bun.” But he would probably like that so I hope it’s one that is straight outta the oven!!

9:30: just realized we were driving past a lake and I mimicked violent vomiting, to which Henry sighed and said, “REALLY?” Also, I wish Death Cab would do a Something About Airplanes tour. I haven’t really liked anything they’ve done last Transatlanticism but SAA has always been my favorite. It got me through a lot of traumatic times at the abusive Meat Place I worked at with Henry and that is not an euphemism for the time when I was Henry’s sex slave. I just call that time “paycheck from hell.” I didn’t get much sleep last night. 

9:36: We’re in Maryland. I always forget that Maryland and Pennyslvania touch. 

10:26: Chooch just woke up and is asking ludicrous questions now, like how many miles is New Zealand from Australia. And I’m like “unless you’re asking because you want to go to the Soundwave festival next year, shut up no one cares.”

10:40: I hate him.   

11:30: We’re at the Old Town Diner in Myersville, MD and Chooch is dying because our waitress said “y’all.”  Henry is this angry:

 

Chooch and I are being bad (see also: adorable & entertaining) and Henry said he just wants to go home LOLOLOLOLOL.   

12:46: Explaining to Henry the article Terri sent me about musical frissons, or skin orgasms, and his eyes are now rolling somewhere behind our car on 270. He just doesn’t get it. “It’s sad that you’ll never experience it,” I said to him in exaggerated sympathy. “I feel really bad for you.” He just tried to roll his eyes again but forgot he already cartwheeled them out of his head the last time. 

12:50: SAY HELLO TO THE BAD GUY. 

1:36: Get ready to be annoyed, Virginia. We’re in you.   

Henry just said we have three more hours though, wtf?? How big is Virginia?? Ugh. 

2:46: Slept for awhile until Henry woke me up to see a large plaster roller skate we were driving past and it wasn’t even that cool so now I’m in a bad mood and Henry exacerbated it when he drove thru a Dunkin Donuts and got me coffeeless iced coffee because I think guy asked him if he wanted wanted extra cream and idiot Henry said yes without asking me. I hope he chokes on his Chips Ahoy donut. (Kidding! Because that would put my life in danger too, God forbid.)

3:16: I just randomly burst into tears because I miss Warped Tour & Henry, before I even finished my whine, barked, “Oh my god. Why don’t you just get a goddamn job with Warped Tour and travel with them all summer?” He was so mean when he said it, but then after considering this and calming down, he added, “You could be Kevin Lyman’s conflict analyst.” WHICH IS FUNNY IF YOU KNEW WHAT DEPT I WORK IN AT THE LAW FIRM. I would be so good at that! I could research all of the bands and make sure none of them were pedophiles or sex offenders or rapists, or have any major beef with each other. 

4:41:Just checked in. Right as Henry was hitting “accept” for the resort’s agreement contract thing, Chooch almost put a rocking chair through the window. 

   
 
Chooch: HOW DID WE AFFORD THIS?

Henry, grumbling: Oh, we’re gonna pay for it tomorrow morning at the time share presentation. 

   
   
Chooch and his imaginary friend get their own room. AND BATHROOM, thank god. 

6:46: Went to the pool for a bit and now we’re waiting for our table at Food For Thought which is right across from Ripley’s Believe It Or Not and Chooch is being OMG SUCH A FUCKING BRAT because of course he wants to go there and we are like “we went to the one in Gatlinburg & if you’ve been to one you’ve been to all” but he’s still going on and on and THERE IS NO ESCAPE. Even the sign in the parking lot of this restaurant says “additional parking at Ripley’s Believe It Or Not.” Hey Ripley’s, believe it or not you can go fuck yourself. 

7:19: we have the best waitress in this joint. She said she likes my tattoos and Chooch’s hair and said “you guys are just cool in general” and then she carded me. And the vegetarian options here have me feeling #soblessed  

8:05: Henry is completely miserable. But Chooch and I are in a great mood. Chooch read this quote that was on the restaurant wall:   

and said, “I don’t get it. Oh. George Bernard Shaw said it. No wonder.” ???

9:00: The speed limit here at Kings Creek Plantation is 17. We went to Shorty’s Diner after dinner for ice cream and Shorty’s proprietor called Chooch “boss” which totally inflated his head.   

We then had a riveting conversation about wet walnuts and cherry Coke. God, can Henry facilitate deep discourse or what.

Food For Thought had conversation starter cards on the table and Chooch was excited about it. “Daddy’s not going to answer any of those, you know. He hates sharing storied about himself,” I said. 

“No, I just don’t like talking to you people,” Henry sneered, right before ordering POT ROAST. God, what an “AARP supper.” And coleslaw! Coleslaw twice in one day. Henry must have been on slaw duty in the SERVICE mess hall back in the day, hence the affinity for that mayo bath of a side dish. 

 9:23: Current state: 
I may or may not crash right now. 

10:14: I just realized that Savannah is over 7 hours away from Williamsburg. This whole time I thought it was like 4?! 

10:23: I miss my succulents. :( Especially Panne. 

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Jul 232015
 

I was feeling overwhelmed on Saturday and decided that I needed to cancel all plans and just decompress at home. Henry and Chooch had a friend-of-the-family picnic thing to attend (where Chooch spent the whole time being “harassed” by an older girl in a bikini), so I had the house to myself. And look, it was nice to spend time alone, getting some painting and writing done, listening to music super loud, and exercising; but by the end of the day, I felt like I hadn’t done anything and then quickly morphed into cabin fever and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Before we went to bed, I told Henry that I wanted to spend Sunday outside.

“Doing what?” he asked, the words floating out of his mouth on a sheet of exhaustion.

“I don’t know, like hiking in the wilderness or something,” my 16-year-old scene bitch alter ego Skye Vanity sighed with mild disgust and sullen ambivalence.

And then Henry exploded into a million tiny pieces of FML confetti, because he knows that Erin + Wilderness = more gray hairs for Henry.

Still, Henry looked up “wilderness trails” or “places to bury a body” who knows what he searched in order to decide that we were going to spend Sunday afternoon in Keystone State Park. We mostly all got along on the way there, although Chooch and I fought over music here and there, because that’s what we do when we’re in the car. BICKER, FIGHT, QUARREL, ARGUE, CAST ASPERSIONS, PUNT INSULT-STUFFED CABBAGES AT EACH OTHER, CARVE YEARS OFF OF HENRY’S FLEETING LIFE.

But we eventually made it to Keystone State Park, which I never knew existed, but we apparently drive past it every time we venture out to Lakemont Park and Delgrosso’s. It took us about an hour to get there, I guess; who cares.

First, we stopped at the visitor’s center so that Henry could inquire about the various trails and then accept a map from one of the….park rangers? Adult cub scout? I don’t know what they are….only to then put it in the trunk of the car before we embarked on our “hike.”

Henry wants us to get lost in the woods and die.

I had to pee real quick and was happy that the visitor’s center had a real, working, modern bathroom and I didn’t have to hover over a chamber pot. When I came back out, Henry and Chooch were waiting for me outside, but the younger of the two khaki-coated trail experts intercepted me on my way out and eagerly started reiterating all of the information that Henry had already obtained.

“I recommend this one,” he panted, after describing every single trail in all of the Keystone Kingdom. He was pointing at the trail that started right outside of the visitor’s center, probably because he wanted me to fall into his slyly-crafted Instant Girlfriend pit.

I thanked him and then finally rejoined Henry, who was smirking when I approached him. (And Chooch was trying to hide from me but I knew where he was because you can’t hide from the hiding master.) “That kid couldn’t wait to tell you about the trails,” Henry laughed and gave my boobs a nod. Henry’s lucky that he’s the only one who can get away with objectifying me. (Sometimes.)

(OK, never.)

TOMS are great to hike in.

Henry regaled Chooch with some completely fictional story about how, in the early, formative stage of our “relationship,” he took me to some place allegedly named Moraine State Park, where I “threw a fit” after “five minutes” and we “had to leave” and now Henry has an “aversion” to “being outside” with me.

I do not recall this. Henry says this was back when I had lots of rage black-outs, though.

I wound up walking way ahead of these two schmucks because they are as slow as your great-grandma driving home from Church. Plus, Chooch has to stop every few feet to scream and cry about bugs and how hot it is, which is usually what I would be doing too, but I was in the mood to WALK IT OUT that day. It’s surprising that I had any energy considering I was up half of the night waiting to hear if Jonny Craig’s band of idiots got voted off Warped Tour or not. (THEY DID! I might post about that on a later date.)

The heat and humidity felt good to me so I took off and wound up so far ahead that I lost sight of Henry and Chooch.

But I wasn’t far enough away to lose audio of Chooch’s non-stop running mouth. I’m not sure I’m ever far enough away. Even at work, like right now, I have an endless loop of his voice swirling around in my head. “Mommy. Cats. Mommy. Mommy. Minecraft. Cats. Skylanders. Cats. Mommy. YouTube. Mommy. Buy me this. I want this. I’m bored. Mommy. Mommy. Cats. I want a cat. I want 28 cats. Cats. Cats. Cats.”

So intermingled with nature’s soundtrack, I could hear Chooch’s constant oration, that beautifully annoying, high-pitched lilt of prepubescent boys. God love it.

There were various intersections in the path we were on, so I would have to stop and scream, “I’M GOING LEFT! HELLO?! I SAID I’M GOING LEFT!!” and once the blue birds delivered to them my screeching message on a ribbon, Henry would jack up the volume on his mumble just enough for me to hear his flat, “Ok.”

It wasn’t until I walked through a giant spider web that I decided this was bullshit and one of those assholes should be leading the way to prevent this from happening again, so I waited for them to catch up.

Chooch had dirt smeared all over his neck and face, and the front of his tank top was sopping wet with sweat. There was a moment where I considered sending him home on a bus so that he wouldn’t stench up my car.

Apparently, there was some competition that I was not made aware of until the end of the walk. Chooch was competing to see who could find the most wildlife, and of course he WON because he didn’t include me in it until the very end! Luckily at the last minute I saw a bird, and then I walked through another web and wound up with its homeowner scrambling around on my shoulder, so there, CHOOCH. I ended up tied with Henry, but I’m pretty sure Chooch was cheating. It’s a terrible character flaw of his.

Father Nature was wielding some strange object and I demanded to know what it was.

“It’s an acorn weapon,” he explained. “So that if someone jumps out and attacks you, I can give this to them to help.”

What an asshole, you know?

Before we left, Chooch treated us to an impromptu performance, and then told us to get our asses up and leave. He has a bright future in the entertainment industry.

On the way home, Henry had a coughing fit.

I mocked him.

Chooch cracked up and yelled, “Are you going to die?!”

“Probably,” Henry wheezed. “Because you two aren’t going to help.”

You’d think Henry would be immune to our insensitivity, but I guess it still stings a little.

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Jul 162015
 

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It’s been a week and I’m still in lala land. I’m currently on the way home from seeing an acoustic Emarosa show at Mahall’s and trying not to cry because it was everything I could have asked for. Because Henry needs a break from my hyper blathering, I figured I’d do some car-blogging before I get even more behind. 

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My friend Amelia likes to ask questions on Facebook to spark conversation, and the other day she asked “What is you favorite sound?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. 

Music festivals. 

Specifically, Warped Tour. There is just something so beautiful, familiar, comforting about the cacophony of competing music in a parking lot of stages. It’s like an apocalyptic carnival that I can’t stop buying tickets for. 

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The weather wasn’t very favorable but what can you do. This definitely wasn’t nearly as bad at the first day of Riot Fest last year, but made for some soggy TOMS. 

IMG_9360 This was Chooch’s third Warped Tour and he is basically a seasoned pro at this point. He s that schedule and scrutinizes the fuck out of it and knows the location of all of the stages before I do which is irritating because I hate when the student becomes the master. 

Grrrr.

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Rain in b&w because I’m fancy sometimes.  

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Waiting for Set It Off, much to Henry’s chagrin. Chooch changed into his newly-acquired Emarosa tank which is cut way more provocatively than anything he’d typically wear, as evidenced by his tanlines. 

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Those shoes were red when we left the house. I think Chooch is telling Henry that he owes him money. He doesn’t forget about being owed money. WHO DOES. 

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Merchaholic. 

I can’t find the proper words to illustrate just how happy I am that my kid goes to Warped Tour with me now. Henry’s mom was telling me that she was flipping through the latest issue of Alternative Press and was shocked he knew nearly every band there and was telling them whether or not he liked them and why. Being able to share this with him is such a beautiful part of parenting for me and I’m really honored that he wants to be involved. You know, when Henry picked up Janna and me from the Kurt Travis show last weekend and i screamed in Henry’s fave that Kurt Travis dedicated a song to me, Henry was like *smirky frown* but Chooch is the one who excitedly asked, “WHICH SONG?!”

I love that kid. 
cabbage

Meanwhile, Cabbage was one of the better bands we saw that day. Their vegcore anthem “Get Slawed” was a real crowd-pleaser. 

UNTIL TOMORROW. LET THIS GOODBYE BRUSH YOU GENTLY ON YOUR EYELASHES LIKE A BUTTERFLY. 

I think I wrote this in my sleep. I’M TALENTED!

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Jul 092015
 

  
10:05am: After pretty much arguing all morning because Henry is insensitive to the fact that this is my favorite day of the year, I am now officially in line to get in! Henry and Chooch had to go to Will Call so Henry could get his complimentary Parent Ticket. So I’m just here alone pretending like I don’t care that I’m alone while silently stewing in a jealous pot at all the people who are here with friends. :(

Amber 2 texted me and said that Glenn hopes it rains on me today. What a jerk!

10:35: Two scene girls just walked by and yelled, “Look at that kid’s hair!” And then the one said, “You’re perfect!” And now Chooch’s face is beet red haha. 

10:45: Chooch just had a long convo with one of the guys from Koo Koo Kanga Roo about PVRIS and cats and now people in line notice us and I hate being noticed so thanks Mr. Popularity. 

  
11:12: WE’RE IN! HenrY stood in line for a schedule while Chooch and I straight sprinted across the land so he could shout SKATER MOM at the Van’s tent in exchange for free shit. Henry caught up to us and said, “I don’t think you’ll have a problem!” as he handed me the schedule but HELLO DOES HE NOT KNOW ME? Like three bands I want to see all play around the same time, FML. 

12:32: After getting woken up by Palisades, we had a dance party with Koo Koo Kanga Roo, Chooch’s new idols.  

 Now we’re waiting for Our Last Night to end and We Came As Romans to start and we’re laughing because henry lost us lol. 

  
WE SEE U HENRY. 

  

1:00: WCAR are on now and I’m like I know none of these songs and Chooch is all god mommy. (He likes them, not me.) Before playing a song they were like “This is about loving each other and supporting each other. Now open up that pit and FUCK EACH OTHER UP!” God I love this scene. 

   
 

1:47: NEVER SHOUT NEVER SIGHTING!

  
Henry was more excited than any of us. 

3:06: WHAT U MISSED–Henry fed us & Chooch got to sing along happily to Never Shout Never. 

  
Now we’re at the Journeys stage waiting for Hands Like Houses and Transit is playing on the stage next to us so it’s perfect. Also the sky is blue but random raindrops are keeping us cool here and there. Today is wonderful! 

4:38: Chooch is making me stand in line to meet the Warped YouTubers FML.  

 

5:58: watched Emarosa’s set in a straight rainstorm, totally worth it, I TOUCH BRADLEY SCOTT WALDEN fuckkkkkkk. 

6:30ish: Set It Off after Pierce the Veil and meeting Lynn Gunn from PVRIS has Chooch like: 

  

7:06: so live blogging wasn’t as feasible as I thought because downtime was a bare minimum this year, but I have tons of pictures to inundate you with over the next few days (weeks?) once I come down off this high. HOW IS IT OVER SO SOON?? 

Oh, Henry wants me to tell you that when we were waiting for Hands Like Houses, he had to go and call work because he fucked something up, haha, and some guy moved Henry out of the way and said “GO THIS WAY” and Henry realized the guy was security and was trying to corral Vic and Jaime from Pierce the Veil to safety so they wouldn’t get mobbed. He tried to tell me as soon as he came back to the Journeys stage but I haughtily said, “YEAH I CANT HEAR YOU” because I assumed that Henry couldn’t possibly be telling me something that mattered. 

There was a rainbow when we were on our way out, with Bless the Fall playing in the background. How fucking perfect I AM CRYING.   

There was only one bad thing that happened all Warped Tour, and that was when Chooch and I missed Henry FALLING DOWN THE HILL when we were standing in line for the Warped YouTubers!! Ugh!!! Henry just now mumbled to himself, “My leg still hurts from when I fell….” 

8:19: Recuperating at King’s with some post-Warped power slaw. Chooch was yammering about, “Yeah well I touched Bradley’s arm pit!” when the waitress came over and she was like “……” 

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Jul 072015
 

Wow, is it time for Henry Bombs already? Are you guys tired of these yet? HENRY IS! I didn’t get very many bombs this weekend because most of Friday was spent hating each other (we were stuck in traffic for two hours en route to a stupid flea market and hated each other so bad that the option of getting married just so we could go through a nasty divorce and ruthless custody battle may have been put on the table) and then I just didn’t care much after that.

But anyway.

The “Henry Waits Four Seasons To Start Watching Teen Wolf and Then Asks ‘Who’s that?‘ and ‘Why is this happening?‘ and ‘Is she a werewolf, too?*‘ While Eating a Hot Dog Wrapped In Bread**” shot.

*No, she’s a coyote, asshole! Try to keep up!

**No, it wasn’t Hot Naybor Chris’s  charity bread. :(

The “We Just Spent An Entire Afternoon Hating Each Other And Now Henry Is Considering Thelma&Louise’ing This Car Off a Cliff, Chooch Put Your Seat Belt On” shot.

The “Getting Ready To Eat Dinner In Silence After a Shitty Day Together, Check His Pockets For Hemlock” shot.

The “Contemplating Single Life, Lamenting That He Forgot To Order Cole Slaw” shot.

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The “Casual Stroll Through The Pit Stop Parking Lot, YOU’RE LUCKY I FED YOU TWO AFTER THE SHIT YOU PULLED TODAY!!!” shot. 

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The “When You’re Admiring A Beautiful Tree Without Judging Its Crookedness & Then You Realize MICHAEL MYERS Is Standing Behind It, Oh Wait, Bro, That’s Just Henry Being a Goddamn Creep” shot. 

  

The “Happy Independence Day From Mr. Made In America,  Star Spangled Henry!” Shot. 

The “Sweeping Up the Red, White & Blue Confetti That Fell Out Of His Ass, God Bless America” shot.  

The “Forgot He Was SO OVER US & Took Us To See Jurassic World” shot.  

(At first I thought, “Ew what’s wrong with my face in this picture?” And then I realized, “Oh my face. My face is what’s wrong with my face.” Lol.)

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Jul 012015
 

I used to talk to this guy Jeremiah when I was in high school, and I mean that literally and not as a euphemism for movie theater hand jobs. He was kind of Thug Lyfe-ish in that he lived in kind of a rough area and sold drugs and wound up in jail later on in life (he’s probably still in jail, and I’d Google that shit but I can’t quite remember his last name). When we would talk, I would oftentimes have to put the receiver down on my bed and go about doing my homework or painting my nails, getting a snack or finishing a mix tape, because that boy would talk and talk and talk about every last detail of his day, and it would be in this reallllly sloooooow voice.

“And then……………I sold a dime bag………..to………Aunt Meg……….” 

*Puts phone down and flips the tape to Side B*

He was busted selling cocaine to an undercover cop.

I mean, great guy though! He had my back and loved to make threats to suburban boys who were bothering me,  and even tried to help me when I decided in tenth grade that I was going to join a girl gang, except that I couldn’t figure out how to take a bus to his house in Hazelwood in order to be initiated into the gang.

I still wouldn’t know how to take a bus to his house in Hazelwood, so I’m still pretty similar to 10th grade Erin.

I’m only mentioning this because when I was writing my Waldameer post on Sunday, I paused and thought to myself, “Huh. I am essentially the Jeremiah of blogging.”

And then. And then! AND THEN!

Oh well. Maybe someday I’ll be on trial for murder and I’ll need to know exactly where I was and what I did on Saturday, June 28, 2015, and through the power of an Internet blog that can be altered and fictionalized at any given juncture, I will be able to give a courtroom a play-by-play a la Jeremiah from Hazelwood.

Your Honor, I started my Saturday by waking up. I took a shower. I do not recall shaving that day, but you should ask my life partner, Henry. He might recall. I got dressed. It was chilly at first, so I put on shorts and a long-sleeved Pierce the Veil shirt that I bought at their World Tour show in February, which is my first lie because HENRY bought that shirt for me.

I then attempted to make cream of wheat, into which I added cinnamon, dates, blueberries, lavender honey, and chia seeds. But it TASTED WEIRD. So I left it on the sink and then made a sad, pathetic English muffin. Henry had gone to the store real quick, but I don’t remember for what now. When he returned, I yelled at him to try the cream of wheat I left on the counter by the sink and he immediately said, “Your soy milk is bad, idiot.”

I pouted about this for awhile, and then I went upstairs and changed into jeans, a t-shirt, and a kimono-thing that I bought from some vintage shop’s Instagram flash sale and then that bitch acted like she shipped it but all she actually had done was create a shipping label and then after two weeks of the tracking info not being updated, I emailed her and got NO RESPONSE, but coincidentally, the tracking info was suddenly updated two days later when she FINALLY PUT IT IN THE MAIL. I’m not trying to cast aspersions here, but Frolic Vintage is a big fat unprofessional bitch and the kimono stunk when I got it. But it’s super pretty, and now it smells normal after Henry washed it.

Buyer beware.

Caveat emptor.

Don’t buy shit from Instagram, maybe.

(Are you painting your nails yet?)

Around 10:30, I drove through a dreary, Seattle-esque rainstorm to Lisa’s house in Pleasant Hills. I was slightly early, so I drove around a little bit because I was listening to PVRIS and if you listen to PVRIS, you might understand the need to stay in the car and just listen to one more song. And then one more. And fuck it, just let the album start over. I drove past the police station and my old dentist who fucked up my teeth when I was in elementary school (Dr. LeDonne, what a fucking dental douche!), and then I drove down the street that my first stalkee, Scott Dambaugh, lived on and WOW, MEMORIES.

At 11:00, I pulled in front of Lisa’s house, where she and Gigi were waiting for me at the door. Gigi had just had a bath, so Lisa had to go and get her dressed, leaving me to sit on the couch and interact with their dog, Tucker, who wanted me to play tug of war with him. Then Lisa brought Gigi back and left to get the laundry out of the dryer so I took that as my opportunity to make Gigi take selfies with me. Because I’m such a selfless person (yet full of selfies), I’m posting this one where Gigi is smiling (I told her to smile so people would think she likes me) instead of the other one I took even though I look so much better in the other one, ugh.
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Gigi is growing so fast! Her head is about the size of a cabbage now.

Then Lisa was like, “Come in the kitchen while I prepare lunch” which required her to spend 87 minutes cutting peppers because she kept getting distracted and I drank way too much coffee during this time and recounted the tragic tale of my wasted cream of wheat. Then I played Emarosa, Never Shout Never, and The Cure for Gigi, and explained to Lisa the whole Emarosa situation where they have a new singer now and how they’re even better than they were before which is really saying something because you know how obsessed I used to be with Jonny Craig….

“Who?” Lisa asked, and I thought she was kidding but she claims to honestly have never heard me mention Jonny Craig not even once in the last 7 years and I actually became disturbed by this because who doesn’t know about my (now buried) Jonny Craig obsession!?

I played her an Emarosa song and she said it reminded her of Stavesacre so she stopped cutting peppers for the 5456874th time in order to locate and then put on a Stavesacre CD and I was like, “This doesn’t remind me of Emarosa at all.”

While she had resumed chopping, I asked her if she remembered this one time back in 2002 or 2003 when we went to a coffee house to watch some guy sing.

She said no.

I said that I was pretty sure it was a friend of hers and that the coffee house was in Beaver Falls or Beaver, somewhere near the college she went to, and she was still looking at me like I was crazy.

“Yeah, and there was some guy there that you knew and it turned out that he worked at the gas station down the street from my house,” I pressed on, hoping to jog something in her decrepit memory.

“Nope,” she shrugged.

So then I texted Henry and basically asked him if he had any recollection of me going to this acoustic coffee house show with Lisa and he was like, “Sort of. I guess.”

After a good 30 minutes of this, Lisa finally remembered and then asked me why we had started talking about this in the first place.

“Because we were listening to Stavesacre in your car that night,” I replied in a “duh” tone. Why didn’t she just know this?!

She looked at me long and hard and shook her head. “Your memory is so weird.”

Lisa and I are so different in so many ways, that our friendship probably shouldn’t even work, but somehow it does. I remember every thing and she remembers nothing, so most of our conversations involve me trying to recreate our old memories with as many words and gesticulations as possible until something finally clicks, or ends with me giving up and saying, “It happened, OK? Trust me.”

Then me, Lisa, and Gigi ate lunch (eggs from Lisa’s aunt’s and uncle’s chicken, with pepper and feta) and then Gigi and I shared graham crackers and life was pretty good. After lunch, it was time for Gigi to get ready for her nap so Lisa said that she could pick out a book “and we can have storytime with Miss Erin.” I started to cheer at first but then said, “Wait…you’re reading it, right?”

“Yes,” Lisa sighed.

Gigi picked an alphabet book that featured atypical animals, like narwals and uakaris. It was OK, but I wanted more plot.

After Gigi went down for a nap, Lisa and I reminisced, and by that I mean I was one Google search away from “how to contact Mnemosyne” to come and bring back her fucking memories!

“Do you remember that one night in high school when we went to visit Jeremiah and Evan and Tony were so pissed?” I laughed.

“Who?” Lisa asked. “Jeremiah?”

I couldn’t believe that she had forgotten about Jeremiah! She used to get so annoyed every time he would page me! (Yes, I had a pager! I was trying to be in a gang, remember?!)

“We went there after Evan’s art show!” I offered, giving her more words to use as a crutch as she slowly limped down Memory Lane.

“Evan had an art show? Where was Evan’s art show?”

&^!!@#$%^%

“IT WAS AT CMU AND IT WAS ONE OF THE BEST NIGHTS OF MY HIGH SCHOOL LIFE!” I cried, and then she yelled at me for being too loud while Gigi was sleeping. UGH, EXCUSE ME!

I have video footage of that night, impromptu trip to Jeremiah’s house included, so I guess Henry will just have to get that transferred to DVD asap and then Lisa and I will have movie night, where she will have parts of her missing teen years pieced back together like a crude tapestry of band tees and Denny’s receipts courtesy of my compulsive videotaping.

Then I left and drove home without incident. I listened to Emarosa. Even some of the Jonny Craig Emarosa.

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I came home and bitched to Henry about how I couldn’t get the Bluetooth to work in my car (MY car) but then I was distracted by a package with name on it and it was a candy heart necklace I bought from Danny Brito! I put it on right away, because #everydaysentiments.

Then I think Henry and I watched Wayward Pines and So You Think You Can Dance and I cried a couple times because those dancers and their goddamn touching stories and insurmountable odds being overcome.

I took some type of pills because I had a headache and whenever I have a headache, Henry is all, “DID YOU TAKE SOMETHING FOR IT!?”

(Are you taking your own pills right now? Sleeping pills? OR IS THIS BLOG POST DOING THE TRICK FOR YOU?)

Then we decided that Chooch needed shoes to wear during the times he’s not outside with the neighbor kids playing Lord of the Flies, so the three of us when to one of the local malls that’s in the most state of despair, but it has a Journeys and Chooch wanted TOMS. First though, I almost perished on an escalator in JC Penney’s because I just never learned how to board one of those things without clenching up, but I almost died on one in Atlantic City when I was 4 but my PAPPAP SAVED ME.

We bought Chooch red TOMS, and the saleskid at Journeys shook Henry’s hand after he handed him the bag, which made me wonder if handed him something else, too.

There was a New Years Day video playing. I said something about not recognizing Ash Costello without half of her hair being red. No one cared.

GameStop was unfortunately right next door and the guy working there told us that they were having a Buy One Get One Free Skylander special that day only, and when Chooch started screaming, the sales guy was like, “YOU’RE WELCOME!” to Henry.

Chooch got two stupid Skylanders.

I went to Wet Seal because they were having a 60% entire store sale and after .0005 seconds it was clear that they’re going out of business because their clothes are ugly as fuck. I made sure to say this loudly too, because the girls working there are clearly the designers. They cared.

Then we left the mall and I pouted on the way home because Chooch got stuff and I didn’t.

Got home and went to my room and slammed the door.

Pouted.

Henry came upstairs and stood in the doorway, laughing at me.

I screamed a lot about being hungry.

Henry made me dinner but now I can’t remember what it was.

At some point, I checked my Simpsons: Tapped Out game and argued with Chooch about whose Springfield is better (obviously mine). Then I declared that it was time for pie, so after Chooch spent 15 minutes trying to pry on his right TOM (I told him he has Barney Rubble feet and then he had to google who Barney Rubble is, good lord), the three (Your Honor, that’s me,  Henry, and Chooch, for the record) of us walked down the street to Eat n Park. It didn’t take long before Henry broke away and walked ahead of us.

Way ahead of us.

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Some kid from Chooch’s grade was there with his family. Chooch was seated facing him, and he gets SO WEIRD when he sees his school friends outside of the classroom so that made for an awkward desserting experience.

I wanted cherry pie like really bad but Eat n Park doesn’t believe in damn good pie so I had to get peach instead. It was OK. Our waiter looked like Ed Sheeran. He might have been gay. That is just an observation.

I ordered my pie with ice cream, but I said, “With ice cream” and not “a la mode.” I wasn’t in a linguistically fancy mood. Not like I was 87 (give or take) paragraphs up there when I said “a la Jeremiah” like I’m some sort of brie-noshing Francophile.

Chooch got molten lava cake and Henry got grilled stickies WITH ICE CREAM and also a creamsicle milkshake, which made me do that deep-throated, “OH HO HO HO!!!” that I do when I’m emasculating his every move. Henry mumbled, “Shut up” and seemed embarrassed that I spotlighted his audacity to double-dessert, but really I just couldn’t wait to steal some slurps of his milkshake.

It was OK.

Just OK.

We had to leave soon after we finished eating because Chooch was starting to laugh so hard that he was choking and I was taking some horribly sloppy Henry Bomb photos which made the people at the booth adjacent from ours wonder if I was taking pictures of them and we kept making shifty eye contact with each other and it was just bad news all around, you know?

So Henry paid and we split.

Chooch and I made it about a quarter of a block before the sugar set in and we ran the rest of the way home, leaving Henry in the wake of our echoing giggles. Once home, we tried to hide from him behind a lilac bush that I always thought was a giant weed until someone once was like, “That’s a lilac bush. Haven’t you ever seen the lilacs on it?” and I was like, “Yes, but I just thought, ‘Wow, that large weed is growing lilacs.'”

Henry claims he knew we were there, then tried to lock us out, THEN lectured us on why screaming “CALL THE COPS!” is a bad thing to scream in our neighborhood.

I honestly have no recollection of what I did after that, but it likely didn’t involve murder, which I imagine is what I’m on imaginary-trial for. 

(Oh wait, I remember! I was making Henry and Chooch watch some guy’s homemade video from Glastonbury 1985 on YouTube while I spouted off about how wonderful music was in 1985 and how desperately I wanted to dive through the TV and land with a perfect somersault onto the grounds of Glastonbury just in time to have some goth boi help me obtain perfect Siouxsie cat eyes before The Cure’s set. Chooch was like, “All these people look weird. I’m going on the computer.” I can’t remember what Henry was doing, but it probably wasn’t googling ‘my girlfriend stabbed me in my spleen and I’m bleeding out. What should I do?’)

At some point I went to bed, probably fell asleep pouting.

(Are you still there? Hello?)

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Jun 212015
 

Here is a thing you should know about me in case you’re ever trying to really butter me up (or poison me) by sending me baked goods: I LOVE LAVENDER-FLAVORED FOODS. A few springs ago, Caribou Coffee used to have a lavender latte and it was fucking dreamy but then it went away and I got bug-eyed looks from baristas every time I asked for it after that. (Thank god for Monin syrups and Henry’s basic kitchen knowledge, because he has been known to whip me up some lavender simple syrup when he’s trying to keep me from leaving him for someone more age-appropriate.)

My friend Kara alerted me a few weeks ago to the Destiny Hill Farm’s lavender festival in Washington, PA. I forwarded this news along to Henry who didn’t even question it because he knew that taking me to this was essential to my existence. So that’s what we did yesterday and Chooch was PISSED because it required being in the car for like, 45 minutes, god forbid. But he’s really into the Smashing Pumpkins now so listening to Mellon Collie and reading the lyrics kept him quiet.

I know: a lavender festival seems like such a plebeian event for me to attend, right? But you know how I am with things: I either REALLY LIKE THINGS to the point of restraining orders or REALLY HATE THINGS to the point of cease & desist letters.

I started screaming when I saw this sign and Henry was like, “OK ERIN.”

We got to ride a school bus! I LOVE SHUTTLING TO FESTIVALS!

I will try to make this short and sweet: I tasted lots of delicious things infused with lavender (and bought it all too), only hated one person (some overly-inquisitive broad who cut in front of me at the honey stand when all I wanted was a sample of the lavender honey but had to stand there and listen to her ask 87 questions about raw honey and I was like “I’M SORRY BUT THIS IS NOT A LECTURE HALL DO YOU WANT A SAMPLE OR NOT?), ruined a pair of TOMS in the soggy farmgrounds, and managed to apply TEAMWORK with Chooch in order to cut our own lavender without the assistance of Henry (we wandered off without him and then he couldn’t find us and was pissed because OH LOOK WHO’S LOST NOW!), and basically felt like I was floating on a giant lavender-stuff satchel. It was a dreamy kind of day.

I ATE THIS! HONEY LAVENDER GELATO! My god, it was like the Garden of Eden was melting upon my sinful tongue. I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS. Lavender makes my brain shut down.

This was the exact moment that Chooch saw two girls around his age, giggling and wearing crowns of lavender. He looked at me and mumbled, “Shut up.”

“OMG LAVENDER.”

Chooch was fine until he ate a sample of lavender fudge that burned his throat, so then he spent a good portion of the time there wearing his thespian cap. He was miraculously cured when we found a baby donkey to pet, though. But then later, we were sampling balsamic vinegar and when the lady gave Chooch a sample cup of it, he threw it back like a shot before we had a chance to stop him. So that was A Scene.

Stoked for lavender.

We left the festival with Lavender sparkling wine, lavender fudge, lavender honey, lavender balsamic vinegar, bellies full of lavender lemonade & cookies, freshly cut lavender sprigs, and a purple beaded necklace! In addition to all of this, Henry also left with a headache spawned from all the times I screamed IT’S INTOXICATING! while shoving my lavender bundle in his face, and a newfound hatred of Kara.

I DRANK THIS LAST NIGHT. Not the whole bottle, even though I wanted to.

The only downside to the festival, other than ruining my TOMS, was that there was no lavender coffee! There was definitely a coffee vendor there, but it seemed to be offering just the usual suspects. Unless I missed it, but that seems unlikely since I’m never wrong.

Chooch had so much fun* at the lavender festival, that his hair turned lavender, too.

*(That might be a slight exaggeration.)

******

Today we are spending Father’s Day at Waldameer Park with our Henry who hates amusement! Happy Father’s Day to any dad who might be reading this dump.

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Jun 142015
 

Henry has been  in a terrible mood all weekend which is hard to believe considering he spends so much time hanging out with Chooch and me. That just made procuring Henry Bombs even more fun! 

 
The “Dropping Off The Kids At the Sold Out Sleeping With Sirens Show, Speeding Off Into the Sunset For a Night Of Peaceful Grocery Shopping” shot. It was the happiest he’s ever been. If he could have gotten away with grocery shopping in his underwear, he probably would have suffered a hernia of happiness. 

(Forever cutting off the top of my head because I’m a selfie dunce.)

  

The “Professional Driver Henry Doesn’t Need The Rear Camera Thing To Back Out Of a Parking Lot” shot. “I WILL USE THE MIRRORS AS THEY WERE INTENDED!”

  
The “Henry Will Go Into Any Convenience Store, Even Those Of Ill Repute, In Order To Score Beverage” shot. #beveragerenegade

 

The “DONT TOUCH MY GLASSES!” shot. 

  

The “Using His Belly As a Plate” shot. 

 

The “Weekend’s Only Just Begun & Henry Already Hates Everything Even Though ‘Broken Wings’ is playing at Valliant Diner” shot.   

The “Dutifully Washing Dishes So Chooch & I Will Have More To Dirty” shot.    

 

The “Channeling His Mental Colorwheel In Order To Assemble the Most Aethestically-Pleasing Serial Killer Greeting Card But Always Double-Checking With Me First” shot. 

OK that’s all. I have to go finish watching this thing about Ted Bundy because it’s my life and I do what I want.  

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Jun 112015
 

So, I guess Henry’s 50th birthday was OK! I mean, he seemed OK. But you know Henry — he is impervious to emotion. After waking up early to do laundry and wash the car, coming home and making us breakfast, and then taking three naps, we all went succulent shopping.

“But First We Have to Get Gas!” shot.

We bought plants and went to Goodwill. Henry bought me this weird Mary thing! It was $2 and very heavy! Thanks, Henry Warbucks!

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Then we came home and sat there. And then….Hold on a second. Writing about this boring day is making me give birth to yawn triplets. I know, it’s shocking that Henry’s birthday wasn’t more action-packed. Don’t fret, Henrylovers: he probably just waited until I fell asleep before folding laundry and watching home videos of Hot Naybor Chris cutting the grass.

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Henry couldn’t decide where he wanted to have his birthday dinner and I was getting hungry so I made some cream of wheat for a snack and he got all bent out of shape. “OH I GUESS WE’RE NOT GOING OUT TO DINNER NOW!” And I was like:

a) YOU WON’T MAKE UP YOUR MIND

b) IT IS JUST CREAM OF WHEAT, WTF WHY DO YOU ALWAYS MAKE ME FEEL FAT?!

Conveniently, he decided where he wanted to go while I was eating my cream of wheat: Tom’s Diner.

Whomp whomp.

I mean, Tom’s is fine for a cheap lunch or greasy omelettes after a rough night at the Vasta (totally shady bar next door to Tom’s), but I was like, “This is your 5oth birthday bro.” Selfishly, I really wanted Italian food and was trying to psychically sway his decision more toward TILLIE’S but I am really trying to be more mindful of other people instead of (allegedly) making it all about myself. Forcing Chooch to go to a Mexican restaurant for his birthday lunch doesn’t count because I gave birth to him, so….

Needless to say, it was a real struggle for me not to shout bitchily, “TOM’S!? SRSLY!? UGH.”

“It’s cheap and we can walk there so I can have some beers,” Henry rationalized and I was just like, “Fucking fine.”

Trying to be good children and let Henry enjoy his day. It literally gave me a stomachache.

Like, bro. The least you can do is smile.

The “Henry Cut His Finger On His Birthday But I Don’t Know How Because I’m Too Self-Centered To Ask” shot. Also, maybe that’s a smile? Sort of?

 

The “Reading the Placemat Ads Because You Never Know When You’ll Need Your Chimney Cleaned” shot.

CHIMNEY CLEANED. That’s what they called in THE SERVICE.

Tom’s updated their menu since I was last there but the vegetarian options are still the same: grilled cheese. “moonshine cake” was written on the specials board and I was really excited when the waitress started by telling me it was lemon cake, but then I choked back bile when she got to the “dunked in moonshine” part. I just can’t with moonshine, sorry Appalachians. :(

The “Henry Bought Us Presents On His Birthday” shot.

(Obviously I have that Cure album, but this is the remastered version on vinyl, which I did not previously have. BUT NOW I DO BECAUSE HENRY HAD A BIRTHDAY!)

Then after Henry took his fourth nap, we went to some questionable ice cream place in McKees Rocks where it took us forever to order because some asshole couple who arrived 2 seconds before us ordered DINNER FOR LIKE 7 PEOPLE plus freezes and we were just like, “GO THE FUCK TO MCDONALD’S NEXT TIME, FUCCCCCCKKKKKKK.” They were walking through the parking lot right when we pulled in and Chooch suggested that we run them over and Henry was all, “Haha, they’re not going to take that long.”

FAMOUS LAST WORDS. Shoulda mowed those townies over.

 

The “Yelling At Chooch For Pretending To Be a Stripper On Some Pole In the Parking Lot of the Ice Cream Shop and Getting White Powdered Paint All Over His Pants and Hands and ‘You Can Just Ride Home In the Trunk, Boy!'” shot.

***

I just asked Henry how his birthday was and he said, “Fine…?”

And napping was his favorite part. “I would say peacefully except someone kept taking pictures of me.”

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Jun 072015
 

Henry and I were pretending like we’ve been involved in Chooch’s schoolwork this whole time by rifling through all of the end of the year bullshit he brought home. One of those things was a composition book that he apparently had to write in regularly. I read this one entry from 4/9 and declared that this was going on my blog so now Chooch is hounding me for payment.      

Oh and let’s not forget about that time Chooch went to a funeral. 

 

(He’s never been to a funeral, btw.)

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