I don’t why I have spent so much of my life caring about my beer-averse palate, but it has been something of a challenge for me over the last, god, 2 decades at least. I guess it really started once pumpkin beers became the big craze. I wanted to like them, I wanted to be able to join in when my friends would give each other recs. Kind of dumb, because I genuinely don’t even care about drinking any type of alcohol in general.

I kind of gave up on this palate-training expedition, until Henry and I went to a bottle shop last year because it was autumn and lo, I was on that pumpkin hunt again. While there, I stumbled upon a PB&J beer from a local brewery called Hitchhiker. I also liked that the can was tall and cool-looking. Henry was like YOU WILL NOT LIKE THIS but I think really he just did not want to get it because it was “expensive.”

Long story short, I loved it and declared it my favorite beer (I mean, short list there) of all time.

“YEAH THAT’S BECAUSE IT HAS MILK AND SUGAR IN IT. IT IS LITERALLY A DESSERT BEER,” Henry sighed because he is always on standby to suck the joy out of life. I mean, we all called him Hoover in the LiveJournal days for a reason, didn’t we guys??

This has started a trend where, every so often, Henry will go to Hitchhiker, or Giant Eagle, and buy a 4-pack of whatever sweet and fruity flavor is on rotation. And then after we split one, the rest will sit in the fridge for weeks upon weeks until I am ready to have another one. LOL. I go through phases.

ANYWAY. I have not really ventured into “other” Hitchhiker varieties (I am terrified of IPAs because they literally taste like asparagus piss to me and this seems to be their bread and butter) but they recently released a pumpkin beer and I made Henry pick it up for me. (I am not the biggest fan of actually going to breweries because I get very fidgety and prefer drinking at home if at all, though I will go with my sister!)

I don’t have a picture of it because I actually did drink all of them over the span of 2 weeks! I really liked it and was surprised because it was way less sweet and more “beer”y than the ones I tend to gravitate to. So this opened up my pumpkin beer challenge again.

I’ve had these ones recently and actually like them all!

1. Cinderlands Star Crumb
2. BG Brewing Pumpkin Slap
3. North Country Brewing Late Night Pumpkin (my fave out of this collection)
4. Ellicottville Pumpkinville Latte

I learned several years ago that I sort of like sour beers.

Thanks, Lisa lol.

We also have this babe leftover in the fridge from a recent Hitchhiker run, and a raspberry with coffee one too that was actually MAYBE my new fave Hitchhiker??

Then! At a haunted house on Friday, a local place called Helltown had a little beery hut set up and I was like, “LET’S JUST SPLIT ONE” because I get stupid real fast. Henry said I wouldn’t like any of the options they had but I was like LET ME BE THE JUDGE, I WILL HAVE A CAN OF YOUR FINEST OKTOBERFEST, MISS and the lady was like “Great.”

(This was after she asked me if I had heard of them and I said yes, which is the truth because last Sunday when we were driving some insane backway home from the haunted house in West Virginia, and before Stephanie Time, we drove past one of their locations in Washington County. Then the lady proceeded to still tell me all about the brewery while also trying to get me to add a KOOZIE to my purchase and look, I am not at KOOZIE-lcvels of beer imbibing yet. Or ever.)

I took one sip and screamed I LIKE THIS, I ACTUALLY LIKE THIS and Henry just smirked at me and was like, “It’s OK.” And then I proceeded to drink most of it and have one of the best times at a haunted house.

Which….now makes me sound like an alcoholic.

Anyway, I was inspired after this and Henry suggested going to Duffy’s to see what their pumpkin selection was like, but you guys, I felt ready to branch out now that my lie about liking Oktoberfest beers was actually fact-checked and proven to be TRUTH.

We did the build your own 6 pack thing and I was excited to try this one last night. It was just OK. I drank my half but never want to drink it again, probably.

Then later that night, Henry and I split this one and I genuinely liked it!

Um, but hold the phone. I have an announcement to make.

MOVE OVER HITCHHIKER, DELIRIUM IS MY NEW #1.

I barely let Henry share this with me. I was screaming, that’s how excited I was over this.

“DO I LIKE BELGIAN ALE NOW??” I yelled, shaking Henry by the shoulders and then putting on YouTube videos about the Delirium brewery. “OMG ARE WE GOING TO BELGIUM??”

I could tell Henry was about to ask if I genuinely thought liking one can of beer warranted a trip to another country but then he remembered who he married.

I was almost to the point last night where I wanted to buy stock in Delirium, or at the very least, put their neon sign in my house.

And then tonight I tried the other “accidental” Belgian beer that I got just because I liked the Bathory-esque portrait on the can.

Yeah, I’m Belgian now. (This was actually a bit too sweet for me though if you can even believe that I’m saying that!)

Anyway, now that I think about this, it does make sense because we used to go to this restaurant occasionally called SHARP EDGE (RIP, babe) and it was basically known for its huge selection of beers. I always went for the vibes and food, but since everyone I went with was inevitably ordering beer with their food, I would always default to the Lambics. I didn’t even realize it was actually beer because it was so sweet and fruity (I usually gravitated toward the framboise variety).

I created a new category on here so that I can post pictures along my beer journey to remember what I’ve tried and what I thought. For instance, last year we bought a 4-pack of some kind of pancake-flavored beer and it was fucking disgusting. We still have cans in the fridge. I need to remember to never fall into that syrupy trap again.

Henry sadly pointed out that so far, all of the beers I have truly liked have been expensive craft beers and/or imports. I can’t help it. I’m fancy.

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Sunday night truly took a turn. Henry and I had a really great time at the haunt we went to in West Virginia, but we had to take a detour on the way home because of major traffic on the usual route. This was fine, but it put us on some gnarly rural backroads during a lightning storm which was cool but also…not cool? We were even warned by the super townie clerk of a gas station to BE CAREFUL OUT THERE as we were checking out.

Then Henry, the Profesh Driver, got us lost-ish! He tried to play it off like he knew the whole time. “I shouldn’t have turned by that Circle K…” OK save it for your memoir, Henry.

Anyway, this, in addition to an impromptu pit stop at Walmart (ugh) set us back a good 45 minutes. And maybe you don’t believe in things happening for a reason, but I do. If none of this had happened, we wouldn’t have been on Potomac Avenue at the exact moment a woman was stumbling along the sidewalk, using storefronts as a crutch to hold herself up. Henry and I both groaned at the same time, because OH BOY public intoxication. But then I shook my head and said, “No, we should stop and help her. It’s not good for an incapacitated woman to be out here at night, alone.” Henry didn’t stop though because Henry doesn’t care about women. So, now we were at the red light at the end of Potomac, and he was like, “No, I am being a good Samaritan by watching her in the rear view mirror, you see” and OK cool? But now she was fucking ON THE GROUND, you guys, like she literally couldn’t even walk without the support of a wall.

“You have to turn around,” I said as the light turned green, and I could tell this was the last thing he wanted to do, being literally ONE MINUTE away from our house. But, he turned around and pulled to the side of Potomac just in time for us to see her fall again, while a couple crossed the street to get away from her.

I thought Henry was going to come with me, but he stayed in the car because he “didn’t want to scare her,” OK whatever you say big guy.

When I approached her, she had just made it to the restaurant formerly known as MeKong (please reference below map) and was teetering on the curb, about to cross in front of a car at a stop sign.

“Excuse me, are you OK?” I asked her, tentatively approaching. From the car, I thought she was a woman in her 60s but now I could see that she was much younger – late 20s perhaps. She had that 1990s Kerrie Strug gymnastic hair cut which made her look like an old lady from afar.

Hearing my voice made her abruptly veer toward me and when I say I almost screamed and ran…..her face was bloody, which I was NOT expecting, and she reached out her arms and started shambling toward to me like a zombie. She fell against me and Inner Erin was shrieking “HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT” but Present Erin was like STAY CALM, DO NOT FREAK THIS BROAD OUT.

I asked her where she was trying to go and she said Albert’s, which is a bar at the top of Potomac (past Molly’s, across the trolley tracks, and across the street). This is not a far walk by any means, but this girl was FUCKED UP, you guys. And it didn’t take me long to realize that it was not alcohol, and maybe not even drugs. She looked like she had been beaten, and very recently.

I got her safely across one street to the next block, where she fell again. I am not a strong person. I kept looking around frantically for Henry, who was continuing to do his civic duty by sitting in the car and supervising, I don’t even know but allow me to be a wimpy woman for a second and say that a man’s muscles would have been helpful in this moment.

I was able to pull her up and get her to a bench across from Jmart. I deposited her on the bench and knelt down in front of her, trying to get her to help me understand what was happening.

First, I told her that I wanted to call 911 but she FREAKED OUT. She was like, “No! No no no, I don’t want to embarrass myself, please don’t call.”

Then, I asked if there was anyone I could call for her to help her. I really didn’t think taking her to a bar in her condition was a good idea?! She had said there were friends there that she was meeting, but then she said she DIDN’T have any friends here, that she moved her from Southern California, she had gotten in a fight with her “man.”

THERE IT IS.

“Did he do this to you??” I asked.

She said no, she did it to herself. That she tries so hard to be perfect, and it doesn’t matter. She is so stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

I’m not a big people-y person but this was breaking my fucking heart. She was sitting on this wet bench, her tears mixing with the blood on her face, me trying to throw up at the sight of blood while trying to fill her head with affirmations of her worth.

“I can’t leave him. I’m not from here. I don’t know anyone,” she cried, knocking her glasses off onto the ground. When I picked them up for her, I noticed she was wearing two different boots.

:(

I asked her again if her boyfriend did that to her face. She firmly said no.

But she admitted that he was the one she was trying to get to at Albert’s.

Now I REALLY didn’t want to take her there!!! But she wouldn’t tell me where she lived. And I’m sorry, I wanted to do the right thing here, but taking her back to my house was not an option. I am a fucking sponge for people in need. I try to act like I don’t give a shit about people (and honestly, animals over people every day of the week) but the fact is, I am a goddamn bleeding heart. I was literally one bad decision away from this stranger living in Chooch’s vacant bedroom.

“What is your name?” I asked her, trying to get her to stay with me because now that was seated and not focused on walking, it seemed like she was about to spiral out.

“Stephanie,” she cried in a slurred baby voice. I introduced myself to her and she said, “Erinnnnnnnn. Thank you for your compassion.”

I couldn’t leave this girl sitting on a bench, I didn’t know where she lived, she was refusing potential assistance from paramedics/police. So, our only choice was to get up and keep walking to Albert’s. At the very least, she would be off the streets. That was my main concern at this point.

Meanwhile, there were people walking by here and there, and did any of them stop to ask if we were OK? ONE person. And when I said, “No!” and made pleading eyes, he just kept walking!

Stephanie was now opening up to me about a brain surgery she had had.  I am not sure if this was recent, but she said it was why she was having trouble walking (“Vertigo.”) but I am going go ahead and assume that she was concussed. She could barely walk a few feet without crumbling to the ground and nearly taking me with her every time.

I was taking everything with a grain of salt. I try not to be gullible. But what is the point in lying about a brain surgery? Was it even necessary to try and get further sympathy from me when I was already committed to helping her? She even tried to show me the scar on her scalp and I was like burping back my disgust while saying, “NO THAT’S OK I BELIEVE YOU.” When I say that I have spent ALL WEEK replaying this and dwelling on everything she said to me….

Anyway, now Henry is parked further up the street, across from where I am now tandem-shambling with Stephanie, like the worst So You Think You Can Dance audition. I made eye contact with him and mouthed, “A LITTLE HELP, PLZ!” but he claimed later that he “did not realize” I “needed help.” And that it looked like I “had everything under control.”

OMFG. FUCK OFF.

Yeah, I had everything under control until we got to the trolley tracks and she FUCKING FELL ON THE TRACKS. One trolley had JUST gone past and we were on that side of the tracks so I wasn’t too panicked but also UM YOU ARE ON THE TROLLEY TRACKS, PLEASE GET UP.

Henry saw this but was now back in motion, trying to find a new place to park the car. I truly don’t understand why he didn’t just leave the car in one of the other street spots he was sitting at and just walk!?  I DON’T UNDERSTAND HIM SOMETIMES but phew was I angry about this later on in the week when the adrenaline was wearing off and I was starting to QUESTION THINGS.

WHY ARE MEN SUCH ASSHOLES.

SPEAKING OF MEN BEING ASSHOLES. There were NUMEROUS men who had walked down from the trolley platform. Most walked right past us with nary a glance. One big man asked if I needed help and I said, “YES! PLEASE!”

BUT HE KEPT ON WALKING.

What the actual fuck??

And then these angel babies, the beautiful goddamn humans – a guy and a girl couple – stopped and said, “OMG do you need help??”

“Yes, please,” I said, near-tears. They both grabbed one arm each and gently pulled Stephanie back up on her feet. I thanked them profusely and said that I was trying to get her to Albert’s, which was now blessedly RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET. I could have left, I could have walked away, but I had to see this through to the end. I know she wasn’t my responsibility but at this point, I had begun to care about her and just needed to make sure she got off the street.

The man part of the couple walked Stephanie to the open door of Albert’s, which I could immediately tell was populated by Yinzer men shouting at “the game.”

“Anyone here friends with her?” the guy called out into the bar, while I filled in his girlfriend about the night’s events.

“Oh, shit! You don’t KNOW her?” she exclaimed.

“No, I* was driving past and saw her stumbling and wanted to make sure she was OK,” I said, explaining that I hadn’t found her on the trolley tracks (thank God) but way further down the street.

*(hey Henry, you wrote yourself out of the narrative by not getting your ass out of the car!)

“And you walked her all the way up here! That was very kind of you,” she said, and I needed to hear that because I wasn’t sure if this was stupid or not.

Now, some – forgive me – effeminate and small-statured man was walking to the door of the bar. He looked like a young The State–era Thomas Lennon and not intimidating at all. Did I get woman-beater vibes from him? No. But people show different sides behind closed doors…

He approached Stephanie slowly, with a look of shock, totally surprised to, what? See her in that state? Or see her in general? I heard him whisper, “What happened to you??” as he hugged her, and then they just stood there on the sidewalk in a weird half-embrace, staring at each other but not talking.

I….I don’t know. I don’t know what my gut was telling me here. “Don’t get involved”? “Knee him in the nuts”?

I did try to ask him if he did that to her, but they were in some bizarre zone and it was like no one existed on that sidewalk but the two of them. I stood off to the side with the couple, watching this, and they also looked skeptical. At first, it sounded like the boyfriend was going to take Stephanie home, but then they walked back into the bar together.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good place for her,” the man part of the couple said, and I agreed. I considered going inside too but the girl part of the couple was like, “Look, you did all you could do. You got her off the street.”

And I guess so. There is a line, you know? There’s being a good person and then there’s being fucking stupid and putting your own self in danger. One of my co-workers was telling me all the things she would have done and making me feel like I let down all of womankind but not, what? Fighting him? Risking getting shot, stabbed, punched out? Potentially bringing future violence to my home?! You just don’t know. Yes, I wish I had called the police but like Henry the Worthless Bystander said  – the police won’t do anything if she says that nothing happened.

I don’t have the full story. She said that they fought. That doesn’t mean it was physical (though – a fight is a fight and even if it’s “just verbal,” that doesn’t discount it from being abuse). Maybe she really had done that to her face herself. I mean, she fell numerous times while she was holding onto me for support, and we had seen her falling from the car when we first drove past. So, who is to say that those weren’t cuts and scrapes and a busted lip from her repeatedly hitting the pavement?? Henry asked me if I looked at the boyfriend’s knuckles and I can’t say that I did. Maybe if Henry had been there AND NOT CRUISING AROUND LIKE A PUSSY, he could have put his armchair detective skills to use.

Other things to consider: why would he take her inside the bar looking like that if he had done that to her, right? And also, I would hope that the bartender’s red flag would be raised and they would keep an eye on the sitch?!

When I say I tossed and turned that night.

Dammit.

I hope she is ok. I hope this isn’t really an abusive relationship scenario. I think of my own past abusive relationship and how things could have turned out so differently for me if we had stayed together. How there were numerous times when he would stop in the middle of the road and make me get out of the car and I would either have to walk home or find a payphone and call someone. It makes me so mad to personally witness so many people stepping around her, not lending a hand. That could have been me.

(Also, I love that the day before this, some old lady in the Giant Eagle parking lot asked us if we would get her a shopping cart and Henry practically pushed me into a ditch so that he could be the hero. Funny how he’s always the hero when I’m the one out there doing THE REAL WORK.)

Did I help her or did I deliver her to the lion’s den? I think I’ll wonder about this for the rest of my life.

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“Autumn happens so that we’re reminded that everything has to die to be new again.”

Fuck you.

This should have been one of the best years of my life – I got married in Korea, Chooch graduated high school, we did some nice family road trips.

But no, it’s easily one of the worst. Every time I think I’m ok, I lose my mind with grief. I spent a solid 30 minutes this evening crying so hard in bed that I started to hyperventilate- I miss my cat. I miss my kid. I miss waking up and looking forward to things. I want to be ok again.

I write in here because I don’t know what else to do. People ask how I am and I say fine because I feel like everyone is so sick of me grieving. Literally have not felt this much grief since my Pappap died, what is wrong with me. I am broken.

So now I’m sitting here with my eyes swollen while Henry is baking healthy zucchini bread or something so when I eat my feelings it won’t be too caloric?! Because yes on top of everything I am still weighing myself every day because I have body image images, which we have started to touch upon in therapy so that’s been fun. Apparently, I am still extremely affected by the body-shaming my grandma used to do to me when I was a young girl girl.

Maybe therapy is helping but it is also making me feel so raw and exposed and literally all I do is fucking cry now, I’m in my salty & swollen face era. Today was a pretty significant set back.

Something weird happened Sunday night which I have no energy to write about yet but that has also been bothering me this week and I think it will help to write about it but I also feel like I am going to HARD judged because I have only told 3 people the story so far and one person DEF judged me harshly and that made me feel like shit but hey – at least I’m feeling things and I’m not numb and dead inside at the mo’???

But yeah, that incident definitely had me crying this week.

I am so fucking sick of crying. Truly.

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…because I can’t remember. How effing sad is that. I would like to get a brain scan someday. Not like I’d know what I’m looking at but like…are parts of it melted?

1. Grim Root by Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam

Oh this was SO BAD. I definitely remember this because as soon as I saw the cover, my face involuntarily twisted into a scowl of disgust. Basically a Bachelor-type reality show films on location at a haunted house. The writing was so bad, like juvenile fanfic. Caricature-like characters, no one really to root for, cringey dialogue. I get that sometimes books are just meant to be read for fun and not to critique its depth, weight, or social commentary, but this wasn’t even that. 2 stars – being generous there. No jams.

2. The Good House by Tananarive Due

No THIS is how you do the haunted house trope. Due’s writing is rich and immersive. Descriptive but never boring. That’s a gripe I have with horror novels oftentimes – they’re 500+ pages because so much of it is atmosphere-building and let’s be real -that shit can be a snooze after a while. But this wasn’t that. A unique take on magic, family history, and haunted grounds. I was crying by the end of it.

I had to give it a 4 though because it didn’t bowl me over like The Reformatory did – that was a solid 5 and set the bar for Tananarive Due’s books for me from here on out.

3. The Night Guest by Hildur Knútsdóttir

Super quick read – chilling, but TRIGGER WARNING for cat deaths :( This broad is doing some concerning and mysterious things in her sleep – waking up with 40,000 steps on her health tracker, random bruises, blood of unknown origin on her hands. I was down for this.

(Just wish it didn’t have the cat stuff in it.)

4. Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

OMG people FREAK OUT over this book but I found it to be boring, not scary, and it had me rolling my eyes quite a few times. Almost all of my Goodreads pals gave this 4 stars. Did we read the same book? It was a low 3 for me and I was considering even dropping it down to 2.5. As a fan of horror, this didn’t even come close to getting the job done for me. Great cover though.

5. The Lake House by Sarah Beth Durst

Was this YA? If so, I don’t think I realized it when I requested it from the library. I thought the cover was compelling and haunting so I was stoked for this! Sadly, it was not what I was expecting. Essentially a deserted island survival tale with three teenage girls who, as expected, were completely annoying on the page. Pretty lame, overall.

6. My Lovely Wife by Samantha Downing

OK!  Here we go, things are heating up! This domestic thriller was SO GOOD. A true page-turner. Exciting. Great writing. I had a ton of fun reading this and isn’t that the whole point of reading!? I lose sight of that a lot lately.

7. Evocation (The Summoner’s Circle, #1) by S.T. Gibson

2 stars, barely. I had heard that this is like the Raven Boys series but for adults and I was really into this at first but it went downhill for me. Not dark enough. Confusing. Cringey. Insufferable characters.  I lost interest and once the big climax happened, I had forgotten what the plot even was lol.  On top of all that, it felt like I had started reading this in the middle of the series – like there was some strained history with some of the characters that was alluded to like it was supposed to have already been pre-known coming into this book. I won’t be continuing this series.

Also, people keep salivating over the cover but I think it’s fugly.

Raven Boys forever. This is not that.

8. The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman

Admittedly, at a certain point, I no longer knew what was going on but hello, this is Neil Gaiman and it was also narrated by him so it was very cozy and dreamy.

9. The Rich People Have Gone Away by Regina Porter

OK, I’m not usually excited about COVID novel but this one was wild. Enviable writing; captivating, interesting and flawed characters; satisfying moments when you realize whose stories connect. This book was unique and a solid 5 stars from me, Kiki.

10. The Main Character by Jaclyn Goldis 

Wow, this was…how do I say…..um. Far-fetched yet lacking entertainment. I don’t care to say anything else about this.

11. Meddling Kids by Edgar Cantero

3.5. This was really fun and the writing was so quirky. Scooby Doo-meets-The Monster Squad vibes. (Also, that cover is exquisite!!)

12. The Clinic by Cate Quinn

3 stars. I finished this in the car on the way to Long Island for the DREAMIE concert and Henry was like, “What is it about” and I honestly didn’t even care to explain. Um, that is still the case.

13. How to Sell a Haunted House by Grady Hendrix

A GRADY HENDRIX BOOK THAT I ACTUALLY LIKED??? Holy shit. It’s true. This was so close to being a 5 star read for me. I love the sibling dynamics. I actually FELT SCARED a few times which is a really hard feat when it comes to me and horror books because I am such a snob. But also, on top of everything, this was just a FUN TIME. I actually stopped at one point and had to make sure I wasn’t reading a T. Kingfisher book though because that is what this reminded me of – I love her (his? their?) quirky take on family dysfunction-meets-horror.

14. Summer of Night (Seasons of Horror, #1) by Dan Simmons

And then I finished the month with a 5-star horror book written in the early 1990s but set in the 1960s. Very Stephen King-ish, coming-of-age horror about a group of boys that ranged in age from 8 to 12, if I remember correctly, trying to figure out what the FUCK is going on at their now-abandoned school and across the whole town. Disliked the dog deaths. Why do pets have to die in fucking horror books?? It is so unnecessary. But overall, I was really into this book. However, remember what I said earlier in this post about how horror novelists in particular tend to get way too wordy when it comes to setting the scene, building the suspense, knitting the ambiance? Yeah, this one was like that. It would be swathes of text describing the layout of a fucking cornfield, like a book can’t get the HORROR stamp on it unless it pushes 500 pages, so we get a bunch of dry paragraphs that threaten to pull you out of the zone after a point. Or…is that just me? I want dialogue. I’m a talky-type of reader.

**********

Well, that’s all for September. Hopefully I get some scary reads in this month!?

 

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Damn, this haunt season has been off to a really wacky start so far. Just all kinds of weirdness, not necessarily BAD, but like…well, WEIRDNESS, as previously stated. I just wanted to dump some photos here from the first week (minus Crawford Haunted School which already got its own post!).

So, the last Sunday of September, Henry and I went to Freddy’s Haunts in Aliquippa. This is one I’ve been going to sporadically since probably like 2002 or 2003? Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s not. The usual.

We had to wait for a solid 45 minutes before they were ready to start sending  people through but I appreciate that this is one of the smart places that give you a group number so you’re not relegated to standing in an annoying line. There’s a HUGE ring of benches for a bonfire, but the bonfire wasn’t lit because it had been raining all day and the benches were wet so Henry and I just stood in like we were in a line anyway so what did it even matter at that point?? But they do have some entertaining scare actors milling about at least, like this clown who desperately wanted us to sign his hammer.

Then he made us take a selfie.

I took a picture of just him to send to Wendy because if you tell me you hate clowns, you asked for it.

Anyway, as usual, all of the pertinents are in the haunted house journal, but I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you two things:

1. The ticket lady 100% was so annoyed that I asked to keep my ticket stub (her concession was to just rip off where it said Freddy’s Haunts and had me the little sliver of a stub back and then as I was trying to tell her that I have been keeping haunted house journals since 1996, she fully swiveled in her chair so her back was toward me, she cared THAT little. WOW. WOWOWOWOWOWOOWOWW. Usually, these people eat this shit up.
2. We were in group #1 with a trio of teenage girls – I feel like they said they were in 9th grade. These girls were TERRIFIED, even before going in when the chainsaw guy was out and about, he chased them all of the way back to the parking lot. We actually didn’t think they were coming back. But they did and they begged us to let them come through with us even though….we were already assigned to he same group # but sure, I’ll sound like a martyr by saying yes! One of them had a death grip on my hand from the beginning, and another one started crying legit tears as soon as we entered the house, so I was actually thinking that they were going to ask to leave. But the crying girl asked Henry if she could hold onto him and he was like, “Um, OK but can I get you sign this contract first stating your consent?” Anyway, IN A NUTSHELL, these girls made this haunt incredibly hilarious and memorable. I LOVED THEM. The one who was hanging off Henry’s arm cried out at one point, “Wow, Mr. Henry, look at your wife up there in the lead – she isn’t afraid of anything! She’s a real one!” and then, “…she is your wife, right?” Henry laughed and said, “Yes” and I was like, “Ew,” minus the David. It just sounded weird hearing it out loud! Gag.

FUCKING ADORABLE. My girl was the one on the left, and Henry’s was next to him. The one on the right was in the middle most of the time but every once in a while she tried to squeeze next to me so that we were three across and the other girl would yell, “YOU’RE SMOTHERING MISS ERIN!!!!”

God, this was so much fun.

Then on Friday, we went to Fear Forest, which is about 75-90 minutes away in Ohio. It was new-to-us although I have seen the listing for it for years.

75% of it was really fun. Like I always say, these things really depend on so many different factors but a big one is: how many people do you get sent through with?? The hayride only allows for maybe 20-25ish people? But then after the hayride, there are three walk-thrus, 2 of which the ticket punchers were only sending in people with their own group so it was awesome because Henry and I were being sent through just the two of us until we did the walking trail (the PyschoPath – brill) and the jerk ticket guy sent us through with the group of 4 ahead of us even after I complimented him on his nails WELL GUESS WHAT, YOUR DUMB LEE PRESS ONS WEREN’T REALLY THAT GREAT. He was so rude!

Anyway, the scare actors only focused on the group of 4 while Henry and I trailed behind them like the Service Service, make it licensed by Spirit Halloween. At one point, I loudly scoffed, “I GUESS WE ARE INVISIBLE.” But that didn’t change anything.

The last walk-thru was a cornfield and it was just me and Henry – WOW SO ROMANTIC – and it featured a fucking 7 foot tall Michael Myers. I was screaming.

“Why is he so tall!?!?” and Henry was like, “I don’t know, keep walking!” and then Tall Mike cut through the corn and reappeared in front of me again!! He was terrifying!

Anyway, we had fun. It was like old times and actually made me think about the time when we were SECRET DATING in 2001 and en route to a haunted house. We were on the West End Bridge when I looked over to the right and saw JIMMY LANDIS, this smarmy weasel motherfucker we worked with, smiling and waving. Then he leaned forward and saw HENRY and looked back at me, then looked at Henry, and then SMILED SO SHITTILY.

Yeah, by Monday, everyone knew. Sigh.

Anyway, driving home from this haunt, hands wrapped around a cup of hot gas station coffee, listening to NCT…it felt cozy and almost like old times. Well, with the addition of kpop, definitely was not listening to that with Henry in the early 00s!

And this brings us to last night, when we went to INFERNUM IN TERRA, one of our faves in West Virginia. So far, it’s my favorite of the season, big scares, lots of psychological fuckery. But I want to specifically talk about how, as soon as we arrived, Henry CUT IN FRONT OF A YOUNG COUPLE waiting in the ticket line?! I was so embarrassed so I hung back and wouldn’t get into the line with him. I watched the couple look at each other and raise their eyebrows and make a “What a d-bag” smirk.

Um, agreed!!!

So, Henry came back over to where I was standing afterward and I whispered, “You totally cut in front of that couple!” and he goes, “No, I didn’t. Did I?” And then tried to defend himself by saying THEY WEREN’T STANDING IN THE PROPER PLACE and you know what I say to that? THAT SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING TRUMP WOULD SAY IF HE FOUND HIMSELF IN THE SAME SITCH.

AND YOU KNOW TRUMP HAS BEEN CUTTING LINES HIS WHOLE LIFE.

Ugh, so I kept saying, “You need to apologize to them!” because I didn’t want to have to it since I wasn’t the rude-ass in this situation!! Eventually, Henry had to walk past them to use the porta-potty so on his way there, he stopped and asked, “Hey did I cut in front of you over there?” and of course they were both like, “Naw!” like good ol’ West Virginian kids but Henry still apologized, and I was like, “OK, we can move on with our lives now, I can reenter society” because, mind you, what I didn’t say is that I had spent a solid 10 minutes dwelling on this because if there is one thing I hate, it’s looking like an asshole when I truly don’t deserve it! And I looked like an asshole by association!!

Ugh, but you guys, get this – on his way back from the porta-potty, he APOLOGIZED TO THEM AGAIN and come on, man. Now it’s just over kill. You went and did too much. Why not just hand them the cat o’nine tails at this point.

Then we went through the haunt, had a fucking amazing time, and everything got weird after that, but I guess I will save that story for another post because it is not haunted house-related, although it was scarier.

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Losing Drew (otherwise affectionately known as “Bambi”) in July was in the top 3 worst things I’ve gone through, no hyperbole. I am still grieving her every day, processing the trauma, trying to get to the point where I can remember her neurotic antics and smile instead of crying my face off. Getting this memorial tattoo tonight by my favorite and most trusted tattoo artist Erin Hosfield at Kyklops was pure catharsis – yes, I’m sitting here crying over it but it’s ok because this is what healing feels like and now I have this beautiful portrait of Bambi’s face that I can take with me everywhere.

Bambi was a Carat – a fan of the kpop group Seventeen, so I knew I wanted their lightstick incorporated somehow. Erin brought it to life for me and I am so grateful.

Bambi was my best friend and I have sort of been floating through life without her. This makes me feel a bit more anchored. ❤️‍🩹 (Not gonna lie, though – my first instinct was to come home and show it to her 🥹.)

(Her Seventeen bias was The8, btw 😊.)

Eternally grateful to Erin at Kyklops. This means so much to me.

We’re going to see Seventeen in two weeks and I’m really stoked to be around other Carats during this dumb time of sadness.

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Part of me wishes I hadn’t gotten so attached to her but what if that would have made her life not as happy.

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October is off to a good start, I really have to say. I was looking for something in this piece of Internet trash and saw that I kept alluding to the fact that things felt of last October, I didn’t feel right, it was different, etc. I’m happy to report that the October vibes feel right over here in the Oh Honestly shanty. Different since Chooch isn’t here, but still alright. I can’t explain it.

This past week was pretty good. I won’t count Monday since that was still September and lots of college administration errors came to light and had me feeling like I was on the precipice of a heart attack, but luckily, Tuesday October 1st was therapy day so that provided a solid start to the month, honestly.

Wednesday was weird but ultimately OK. Let me tell you about it. I went for my typical morning walk, which generally takes me down Brookline Blvd. It’s always early enough in the morning that the Pitaland guys are in the process of baking and sometimes I will see them coming outside for a walk. So, there is one guy in particular who I have become AM Friendly with (aka – it’s still early enough that I’m in a good mood and therefor more apt to say words to strangers). I used to always exchange morning salutations with the Pitaland proprietor, which was why I took his recent death so hard, but this guy was always my back-up – a familiar face I could count on to accept my probably-weird sounding hellos since I’m always wearing headphones and can’t hear myself.

Anyway!! On this particular morning, after I said hello, it looked like he was saying something with more syllables, so I actually PAUSED MY AUDIO BOOK FOR HIM (don’t worry, I wasn’t enjoying it anyway) and when I pulled down my headphones, he asked me if I wanted pita!!

Who am I to deny a fresh slab of pita?? Of course I said yes, and he came out with this puffed-up piece of a hummus vehicle and I felt like the motherfucker mayor of Brookline. Dead ass like I was in a Hallmark movie about a girl who finds love through baked goods in a small town but then I had to sidestep maybe-vomit on the sidewalk and some Yinzer screamed something indecipherable at me from across his Steelers-stickered truck and I remembered that nope, I’m still just in Brookline :) Anyway, I sent this picture to Henry and he was jealous because he’s the only one allowed to have Pitaland friends I guess.

My morning got weird for a minute though because I had ISSUES logging on to work – apparently my keyboard was glitching and I didn’t realize it so I kept putting in my password incorrectly and then I got LOCKED OUT and had to call the HELD DESK and got a guy who was either new or just one of those people who works the same position for years and just never gets it, because he was whispering things to himself like, “Recovery….recovery….where is it…..oh there—no, that’s not it….” and it took him about 15 minutes to get me helped when someone else probably could have done it in less than 5….

Anyway, then I was logged on and realized that my keyboard was totally effed – usually if I restart, it will correct itself, but even when I switched over to my home PC side, it was still acting a fool. So I called Henry screaming and he was like, “I WILL LEAVE WORK NOW AND GET YOU A NEW KEYBOARD, DO NOT CRY” and he really did it too, in less than 30 minutes!

But then, I got a delivery from Nooworks, one of my fave small, independent clothing lines and it occurred to me that the last time I had dreadful Help Desk issues and then got a delivery from Nooworks, Drew died. Literally, this same series of events. I was panicked, running around the house, looking for Penelope. I found her in the attic, curled up on the couch and looking pissed that I disturbed her. But you can best believe I had my eye on her all day after making that connection.

The rest of the day was fine! After work, I wanted to go and find something fun and non-alcoholic to bring to a cheese class I was doing the next night with my friend Lindsey. She doesn’t drink and I didn’t want to roll up with a bottle of wine because it’s kind of like if someone was hanging out with me and brought like, a slab of ribs – I wanted to bring something that I could share with her and I don’t really drink that often anyway, she types right before showing you a picture of a beer she bought at Giant Eagle and actually likes:

Henry said he doubted that I would like it, but I did!

Anyway, Giant Eagle didn’t have any mocktails or anything of that sort even though Henry, who is ALWAYS there, claims that they had a display near the wine section, so went to this place that I have heard of but never visited called OPEN ROAD, which is ALL non-alcoholic beers, wines, liquors, etc. It was unchartered territory for me so when the salesperson came out of the back and asked if I needed help, I said, “YEP. Guide me.” She was WONDERFUL!! Henry kind of slunk away into the shadows and ALL THE ATTENTION WAS MINE, MINE, MINE. I like being helped. Also, I need to be helped. Constantly. I was thrown into the world with no life skills.

I ended up getting a non-alcoholic Riesling to take the next night and prayed that it would be good!

This brings us to THURSDAY. I went into the office on this day. Here’s what happened. Margie and I had previously planned to meet in the office on Wednesday so I could go over some engagement letter stuff with her (doesn’t that sound fun? aren’t you jealous of my fun-sounding job!?) but then the whole Pgh office, not just our department, got invitations to an iManage training (ugh) which was IN-PERSON ONLY and NOT being recorded (wtf) so we were told in our dept meeting that while it wasn’t mandatory, it was seriously recommended that we attend one of the sessions. So, Margie and I shifted our in-person day to Thursday in order to birds/one stone, etc.

It’s weird, I used to get those “ugh, school” nerves in my stomach before going into the office, but now I’m just numb to it, I guess and in some sick way, I actually enjoy it in a sense?! It’s nice to see who will be there and go through the motions, I guess, I don’t know.

As soon as I walked in, I saw Jordan and Ethan at Margie’s desk and practically in unison, they said, “THE TRAINING WAS CANCELED.” The email went out at like 8:20 when pretty much everyone was already en route so people were pissed. I was happy about it! I didn’t want to go to the training, but needed to be in the office anyway, so it was actually kind of a blessing for me!

And it meant that I got to go on my lunchtime walk and literally run into a FERRIS WHEEL on one of the bridges, without having any prior knowledge of this thing being there! Henry said it was only just recently erected (lol) for Oktoberfest because apparently Pittsburgh does Oktoberfest now, who knew.

I didn’t bring my wallet with me so I had no money but this is also my LEAST favorite kind of Ferris Wheel because they remind me of janky church carnivals and I won’t ride them. However, I highly appreciated the color palette. It was so vibrant and fun to look at!

We saw it lit up last night and it looked so pretty.

Anyway, getting home from work was pandemonium because both tunnels had accidents so Henry was late picking me up and then we were even more late getting home because of the second accident in the other tunnel and I was mildly panicked because I could see inbound traffic and it was TRASH so Henry was like, “You will have to go The Scary Way” which is a route that requires going over a different bridge with loads of chaotic merging and that’s not for me, son. So, Henry drove me to Chantal’s, the cheese shop, and dropped me off hahahaha I’m a baby and I don’t care.

OMG this cheese class though. I knew that this was a thing, and I have driven past the shop so many times and always say, “Why don’t we ever go there?” to which Henry just grunts or ignores me because he lives in fear of the unknown being expensive, I don’t know with him. So, I was really excited when Lindsey suggested that we do this AND bought my spot as a wedding gift (LOL I love when wedding gifts are just for me and not Henry – this made that much sweeter!).

The class was small and intimate – just 11 of us plus Anais, the cheesemonger and owner of Chantal’s so I expected her name to be Chantal and am really glad I didn’t ask her that when I arrived (I was only the second person there and that person was having a convo with her and I wanted to butt my way in). Can you imagine?! After giving her my name, “And you must be Chantal!” Ugh I’m so glad my social anxiety prevented that from happening. Sometimes it goes the opposite way where it tears down my filter and I become TOO chatty and then dumb shit comes out of my mouth. Just sit there and smile, stupid.

But then Lindsey arrived and we had some time to chat before the class started – it was really nice to catch up and realize that we are all going through it, man. WTF is up with this year? I told her that at one point, I wondered if the moon was doing a thing but I don’t have enough interest in that stuff to figure it out. It was like, cheese therapy, though. Good company, good drinks (the Riesling and the fancy grape juice that Lindsey brought were delicious and worked so well with the cheeses!), and an informative class led by one of the most charming, charismatic, and passionate people I have ever met in this city. When you meet someone who is proud and excited about what they do, it is the epitome of inspiring! The cheese was actually just the cherry on top at that point!

This was a class to teach us specifically about Pennsylvania cheeses, by the way. It is really hard to pick a favorite – I enjoyed them all tremendously, no one enjoys cheese better than me, I am bigly cheese, made of it – but I will you that the pairing of the St Malachi with the apricot jam was incredible. They were made for each other. It was like a Disney wildlife symphony in my mouth with every bite.

I literally couldn’t offer up anything more eloquent than, “Wow.” And, “That was so good.” Maybe an occasional, “I know, right??” It was like “Erin’s Quiet Time.” Shh, Erin’s eating cheese, right now. Leave a message. Preferably on top of a wedge of cheese.

Afterward, we went down to the shop – it was my first time there and Anais said that it was mandatory for all first-timers to go look at the shop because it is cute and she loves it and she would drag us down there forcibly if needed. She was amazing. She could have served me Kraft slices and I would have been like, “Tell me how to buy more from you. This is my new favorite cheese.”

Down in the shop, I had intended on buying the Witchgrass or the Wild Rosemary, but then the couple we were seated with was asking Anais’s husband about some other kind of cheese called CHALLERHOCKER and we were wildin’ out over the creepy design of the wheel casing so everyone was calling it the demon cheese:

NOT MY PHOTO.

All four of us ended up buying some of it! I didn’t want to go hogwild on the cheese-buying because we truly don’t eat that much of it so I stopped while I was ahead and just got the demon cheese and a package of malt balls after Lindsey’s gushing over malt balls in general had me sold. I now associate with her Whoppers.

The next time I have a party though, it is Chantal’s cheeses or GTFO. I want to support this shop forever! And you should too!

I am so grateful to Lindsey for this experience, it was the perfect end to what was really a pretty hectic work week.

This brings us to Friday! I had the day scheduled off because I am at that point as usual where I need to use my PTO so that I don’t wind up in December with too much time leftover to fully roll over.

I initially had nothing planned, but the day before, my friend Maya messaged me out of the blue to tell me that it turns out we have a mutual friend in common because Pittsburgh, and then said we should grab coffee sometime because it has truly been years upon years since we have seen each other and we legit live within walking distance of each other.

“Actually, I’m off tomorrow….” I said, because I am actually not that much of a hermit – if you ask me to hang out, I will! Sometimes I just get lazy with initiating on my end. It does feel nice to be asked, though! Anyway, this is how Maya and I ended up at Potomac Station Coffee for THREE HOURS talking our faces off over muffins and coffee.

Literally – three hours and it felt like MAYBE only one, tops. It was so nice to see her, catch up, talk about life. I SHOULD HAVE MADE HER TAKE A SELFIE WITH ME because I am all about preserving these things the older I get (did we even have coffee if no one at least snapped a pic of their coffee cup), but we were really in a gab-zone that it didn’t even occur to me. It did crack me up though that the reason she realized we have a friend in common is because the friend in question – Brian – posted an old picture from my pie party and she commented and said, “That looks like one of my friend Erin’s pie parties!” and he said, “It was!” Apparently, their kids go to the same school and are besties! Small city, man. You can always count on these kinds of connections in Pittsburgh.

(P.S. Maya is my friend who made all of my special Warped Tour-era dolls, like Jonny Craig, Vic Fuentes from Pierce the Veil, and Christofer Drew for Chooch! OMG and also a Ju-On for Chooch, lol!)

I am going to make an effort to keep in better touch with her because, especially with this transition into Empty Nester Land, I need to make changes. At first I thought maybe I needed a new job, but I do genuinely like my job even when it’s annoying and stressful, and starting over in that realm is only going to add more stress to my life and I am FRAGILE RIGHT NOW, PEOPLE. So, Henry and I have been talking about just getting out and doing more things rather than sitting on the couch all night looking at our phones while half-watching whatever is on TV. We do have some “double date” nights planned for this month though so I’m looking forward to those!

And then I ended the night with a new-to-us haunt in Ohio with Henry and it was really a great night where I accumulated some new monster boyfriends,  but I will have a separate haunted house recap post.

I feel OK! I am still crying every day about Drew (Penelope’s and her birthday was yesterday, so that felt raw). I had a dream about her last night, so I woke up this morning and cried first thing, but it’s OK. I feel like I have reached “normal” grief levels and you know, the more I talk to friends (and my therapist, I love her so much, she is the perfect match for my screwed-up head), the more heard and understood I feel. It’s the people who don’t get it who are the weird ones!

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Chooch and I always had a competition with our cats because Drew was his and Penelope was mine (let it be known that I was the one who picked Drew too though!!) so we would always fake-fight over who was cuter, better, more popular (we even made Instagram accounts for each cat to see who got more followers and likes, it was to that level). Chooch would jokingly call Penelope a rat, tell her she stinks, etc. but all in good fun.

So, when he left for college, I didn’t think she would really care but then the other day I caught her standing up on the back of the church and looking at Chooch’s pictures. PROBABLY JUST A COINCIDENCE.

Then! She’s been hanging out in the attic, which you might remember is only accessible through Chooch’s closet door. Henry reasoned that it was probably just because he’s not in his room now so she can walk through to the attic steps without being bothered him.

This is logical.

But then yesterday, I walked past Chooch’s room and saw this:

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Maybe she does actually miss him?? I mean, first her sister goes away and now Chooch. She must be really confused :(

I hate this.

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Well, I’m a sucker and came out of volunteeretirement and signed up for our annual Global Day of Service at work, only because Todd messaged me and asked if I was going to. I mean, I wasn’t, but then I started to really look at the options and said, “WHY ARE YOU DOING ONE IF YOU DO IT I’LL DO IT” and he was like “Whoa whoa whoa, that’s not why I asked!” but now I have him considering so in the meantime, I signed up for LITTLE SISTERS OF THE POOR.

“That is landscaping!” Todd said. “You hate manual labor!”

“Yeah, but they’re all the same except for the soup kitchen place but 1. I don’t want to prepare food and 2. I don’t want to talk to people!” and he went samsies on those sentiments. “Plus,” I added, “how much landscaping can nuns really need?”

#FAMOUSLAST WORDS

(But seriously, I looked up their house thing and it doesn’t seem like there is that much yardage.)

Anyway, in honor of what will statistically speaking turn out to be my stupidity, here is the memory from 2021’s volunteer nightmare. ENJOY YOUR RIDE.

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PUMPKINPATCHING 

I decided to sign up for this year’s Global Day of Service at work because it’s been several years since I last participated, one of the options was helping to set up for the Boy Scouts annual Halloween event, and I need to get the FUCK out of this house. Working from home definitely has its perks but the burnout is real. I wanted to see familiar faces and just, you know,  not be strapped in front of my computer all day.

I convinced my work pal Megan to also sign up for this particular event. “It’ll be fun!” I said. The activities listed decorating and helping out with the pumpkin patch. Sounds like good old-fashioned October fun to me, and for a good cause to boot!

Then there was a whole lot of confusion just during the sign-up period: incorrect dates, miscommunication regarding t-shirt pick-up, instructions on where to park etc not emailed out until the eleventh hour. I was so stressed out about this because I like having a clear and concise plan in place when something involves me going to a place I’ve never been before, and the fact that no one was responding to our emails (I think I gave Megan second-hand stress and she was also emailing the global service people for answers lol) had this whole situation INFILTRATING MY DREAMS. Yes, I fucking had low-key stress dreams about this stupid volunteer opportunity, why can’t I be a normal person even in my slumber. Seriously, it’s exhausting being this tightly wound 24:7.

But finally Thursday aka Volunteering Day came and I was prepared. Got Chooch to school, came home and ate breakfast, was at Megan’s house promptly at 8am, made it to the Boy Scout camp in Sugar Spell Scoops Town (aka the town where our favorite ice cream shop lives lol) with a good 15 minutes to spare. And it’s a good thing too because finding the camp was tricky and we kept thinking we were going the wrong way or that we passed it, and then we finally found the street and saw the main building, we proceeded to drive past it to find the gravel parking lot as the instructions told us. It said it was “on the other side of the road past the education center” and we did see a lot there but it wasn’t gravel. And someone named “RANGER MIKE” was supposed to be there to help.

There was no such man there.

So we drove around again and still could not find any semblance to a “gravel lot” so we went back to the first one and parked. Another Law Firm person rolled up and was like “IS THIS RIGHT” and we were like “SHRUG” and then in unison we all said, “IT’S NOT GRAVEL” but then a man came barreling down the road in a golf cart-type thing and we were like THIS MUST BE RANGER MIKE and it was. Law firm people are just smart like that, you know? RANGER MIKE was like “Follow me to the correct parking lot” and he took us further up the road to another parking lot that was also NOT GRAVEL!?!?

Did they just pave the lot after sending out that email?! We were all fixated on GRAVEL. You cannot throw down super descriptive words such as GRAVEL without following through. I am going to dwell on this forever, watch.

OK, on to the actual volunteering. It was just Megan and me from our department, but two other ladies from a different department on our floor were also there so that was really nice to see some familiar faces! Then there were four dudes, none of whom I knew or recognized, from various departments. I think one was an Associate, and the rest of us were all non-lawyers. There were 3 different tasks that needed done that day, and we were split up into groups. The four of us broads quickly raised our hands for pumpkin patch consideration, two guys were on painting duty, and the other two went with RANGER MIKE to do something with life jackets and then set up some sort of game for the Halloween event, I honestly don’t know because I quit listening to the options after “pumpkin patch.”

We went off with another camp person, Kim, down the road to a little area of land next to a picnic shelf and a creek. Basically, we just had to tear apart bales of hay and scatter it so that the area for the patch was completely covered. You’d think this would be fairly self-explanatory but I had to keep sneaking peeks over my shoulder at Kim to make sure I was doing it like she was, I’m so fucking Type A. Once that was done, it was time to place the pumpkins. They still had stickers on them and I was about to ask Kim if she wanted us to remove them, but I saw that she was leaving them on all of hers. I thought, OK, maybe this is like a brand deal or something, and whatever farm supplied the pumpkins asked for the stickers to be left on for marketing purposes. I don’t know the beside-the-scenes shit that goes on at pumpkin patches. OK Randy?

This went on for quite some time, and I was surprised at how mildly worked-out I felt, I wasn’t sweating or anything, but the process of plucking pumpkins from the boxes was full-body, you know? I was grabbing three or four at a time and pretending they were tiny medicine balls.

When we were nearly done, a cart full of three Camp elders scooted on up to us. They dropped one lady off, and she immediately began inspecting our work and mumbling under her breath about the stickers.

“I didn’t really think it mattered,” Kim said defensively. “It’s fine,” she said to the rest of us, now frozen with stickered pumpkins in our hands. But the Camp elder began stooping down and removing stickers.

Kim caught me peeling a sticker from a pumpkin I had just grabbed from one of the boxes.

“No, don’t!” she said. “If she wants to go around and take off all the stickers, she can be my guest. But we are not doing that.” My eyes must have widened or something because she tacked on, “She’s my mother-in-law, so I can say that.” And then we laughed heartily. So, then it became this Thing with the Camp Elder, walking around peeling off stickers and us dumping down more stickered pumpkins. I will admit that every time Kim wasn’t looking, I peeled the stickers off the ones I was putting down because it was honestly bothering me a little bit too. I mean, look how dumb all the white spots look in those pictures! But then I kept reminding myself that the patch was just for the kids and kids could give a shit about the cosmetics and one of the ladies from my floor said, “The stickers will probably make the little kids happy, anyway.” And that’s true, probably.

After getting all the pumpkins down, we helped Kim put up a red plastic fence around part of the perimeter and Camp Elder was trying to hijack this part of the process too by changing the border of the patch. Kim kept saying, “No, we don’t need a fence over there. No, the kids aren’t going to fall over, it’s not a cliff.” It was actually hilarious and the looks Kim kept giving us behind Camp Elder’s back made me feel like we were all camerapeople at Dunder Mifflin.

It wasn’t even 11AM yet so one of the other ladies asked me if I knew what else we would be doing but as far as I knew, it was just the pumpkin patch. RANGER MIKE didn’t say anything else. So we sat for a bit under the pavilion, drinking water and telling horror stories about past Global Days of Service.

“This one was actually really nice,” I said. “It was mild labor and felt very rewarding, plus it was also kind of fun.”

Everyone agreed and one of the ladies was saying that she did a landscaping one in the past and it was hard labor. “I’ll never sign up for anything like that again,” she said, and I had flashbacks of my last volunteering experience with Tree Pittsburgh and how terrible it was. 

No, seriously, I just re-read that right now and I’m having phantom callous pain.

“Do yinz think you’ll come back next year?” Camp Elder asked, and we all enthusiastically said yes. Then Kim talked to us about what the Boy Scout event is like and encouraged us all to come out to that Saturday. It’s $20 a person, but for a good cause, so I was considering it.

“Are there chainsaws?” one of the other law firm ladies asked. “I hate chainsaws!”

Kim said she wasn’t sure, because the Boy Scouts plan the haunted trail themselves and she didn’t know what they were going to be doing yet.

Right when I was thinking that maybe they’d set us loose early, Kim got off the phone with whom I assume was RANGER MIKE and said, “OK, we’re going to the log splitter.”

We all laughed, like, “Haha very funny, the log splitter, lol-le-lol-de-dee.”

But then she wasn’t smiling anymore. “No, seriously. You guys are going to join the other two guys who finished with Mike.” So we all looked at each other in fear and reluctantly followed her up a path, past THE ASYLUM where a life-sized Hannibal Lecter had been leering at us from a distance all morning. (One of the ladies spotted him earlier and thought he was a real person and started to get angry that someone was staring at us, lol.)

And then we got to the infamous log splitter. Two law firm guys, one from Finance and one from IT if I remember correctly, were already manning it and they did not look like they were living their best lives, let me tell you. RANGER MIKE had rolled up in his stupid cart to bark off orders.

“Two people can be on the splitter while the rest of you stack the cut pieces and bring more logs to them to be cut,” he said and us FEMALES exchanged, “THE HELL WE ARE” looks with each other. I for one did not want to go anywhere near that horrifying device.

STORY TIME:

When I was 17, this was back in 1996 I believe, my dad was in the yard operating a log splitter, and then KAPCHUGGI (my favorite Korean word that means “suddenly” in case you haven’t learned that by now) he came running into the house, legit spurting blood all over the laundry room and into the kitchen. This happened to coincide with Halloween weekend, so my mom thought he was fucking with us, like “haha, great use of fake blood, impressive trajectory” but then he was like THIS IS REAL, VAL and he showed her his hand that was now missing one finger tip and we were all like OMG VOMIT. So she got him to the hospital and they were like, “Hello, did you bring the finger” and she was like, “Excuse me, the what now?” and they were like, “The finger. We need it” so she had to go back home and find his fingertip which was still inside the glove he was wearing, and they were able to reattach it.

But the part of this story that I remember the most vividly happened shortly after The Accident. My dad and I were having yet another knockdown drag-out fight because we fucking hated each other back then (we’re fine now!) and in the heat of the moment, I shrieked, “I wish it had been your head!!!!!!” and then slammed the front door behind me as I ran away.

My brother Corey must have been about 7 at the time and he was a witness to this. Not too long ago, he actually texted me “I WISH IT HAD BEEN YOUR HEAD *SLAM*” lol. Oh, the things that stick with us.

But yeah, me and a log splitter? No thank you. I texted Corey and he was like, “THIS IS A SENSITIVE TOPIC FOR THE KELLY SIBLINGS!”

So, I opted to roll the to-be-cut logs over to the MEN. You can see from this picture that there were several nice looking, clean, dry logs that were already chilling there, and just needed to be rolled over to the other side of the log splitter. This is not so bad, I thought. I mean, they were heavy so I was not pleased with that but at least they were all tee’d up for us womenssss.

I sent the original picture to Corey and he was obsessed with the disgusted expression on my face and sent me this picture in return. I mean, even through the blur, you can tell that I was feeling pretty put-out at this point.

After Megan and I rolled the last log over to the guys, I looked at RANGER MIKE (who was busy texting on his phone, btw!!) and asked, “Is that it?”

“Oh no, those ones over there too,” he said, and pointed to a mound of haphazardly stacked logs on a small hillside AND THEN HE LEFT.

These logs were not nice and uniform like the other logs, but were actually huge chunks of tree, and looked like they had been loitering there for quite some time. That was apparent as soon as I flipped one over and unearthed a family of writhing worms, OMG hold please, the memory of this is making me dry heave. There were so many that they were basically KNOTTED, ugh. And the random bugs!!! Holy fuck, there were so many bugs I have never seen before, skittering all along the logs. The only nice bug I encountered was a fluffy black caterpillar which I transported to safety via a leaf because I didn’t want the poor thing to get the ax.

This was after we already removed a bunch, but you can see that the logs over to the left are basically just an extension of the ground, and that’s how the ones were that Megan and I were fucking with. Once we’d unearth them, literally, the underneath of each log was coated with cold, slimy mud and it smelled mildewy and rotten, the perfect combination to tickle one’s gag reflex. Then there was some kind of disgusting mold on some of them and old-ass fungal growths that could have been poisoning us, but RANGER MIKE was not there to tell us if we should be holding our breath or not. I kept slipping and sliding into the thick, sludgy crevices that were exposed after I’d lift a log and it was not PLEASURABLE.

The fact alone that they didn’t even give us gloves?! Are you kidding?? I had cuts on my hands!

“This is like Cross Fit,” I panted to Megan as I was squatting down to get enough leverage to push a giant log up the ramp to the log splitter. “It’s like Boy Scout Cross Fit.”

Like flipping tires but with the option of getting splinters.

I wanted to go off into the woods and scream, “FUCK!!!!!!!!” repeatedly until my throat was raw.

Did I mention that we were 100% unsupervised during this and were provided with NO safety equipment? No gloves, no goggles. Henry was actually horrified when I told him. I thought he would have laughed and made fun of me for having to do work but he was actually somewhat appalled that this was allowed to happen. I mean, there is a reason we all work in a law firm and not a forest, you know?

Look at that mother-whomping chunk of a tree! Megan and I were in beast-mode. Also, I witnessed several close calls with those guys and the log splitter.

And then Megan flipped over this guy’s house and that was pretty much her cue to throw in the towel.

With every log I flipped and heaved, I heard Camp Elder’s last words in my head:

“Do yinz think you’ll come back next year?”

“Do yinz think you’ll come back next year?”

    “Do yinz think you’ll come back next year?”

                                                    “DO YINZ THINK YOU’LL COME BACK NEXT YEAR?”

                             “dO YInz THInk yOu’Ll ComE BaCK nEXt YeAr?????”

Finally, RANGER MIKE came back and said, “OK you guys can be done after these logs here are split” and pointed to the last two that Megan and I had heroically rolled up to the log splitter. I did a celebratory shimmy behind his back and spent my newly acquired logless time trying to work my wrist bones back into place. They were wrecked. Maybe even worse than my back. Then I started thinking about all the tiny bones that make up a person’s wrist and I was getting nauseated. See also: I needed lunch in a big way. I’m a lumber jack now, after all.

The guys got to hitch a ride back to the parking lot on RANGER MIKE’s stupid Boy Scout mobile while us girls opted to walk. I don’t know about them, but I had some anger that needed processed and walking always helps with that.

“I was fine with the pumpkin thing,” one of the other 10th floor ladies said.

“Yeah and the pumpkin thing didn’t have bugs,” I said, and then we all did something that was supposed to be laughter but sounded more like the mewling of our collective broken spirits.

As we passed the pumpkin patch, someone mentioned that we probably finished too early and they put us on log duty because they didn’t have anything else. I said sadly, “Maybe we should have just gone back and taken off the stickers after all.”

This time our laughter sounded more like trying-not-to-cry-ter.

Back at the warehouse or whatever it was, we reunited with the other two guys who had the painting assignment. One of the ladies muttered, “We should have picked painting, instead” because they realllllly took their time with that job and dragged it out so they didn’t get stuck logging.  It just goes to show you that efficiency doesn’t always pay off in the end, you guys. Sometimes the slackers come out ahead!

RANGER MIKE took a group picture and then finally released us. I was so happy to sit down in my car until I got home and couldn’t get out of my car. Ugh, my aching back. I needed a Doans or something. Is Doans still a thing? Because they could have used footage of the day’s activities for their next commercial.

Well, that’s my story about being a do-gooder. I think I’ll go back on hiatus now.

Til next time:

Jesus loves you,

I don’t have to,

so fuck you.

(Don’t worry, I don’t think this will become my new standard sign-off. That was Lumberjack Erin talking.)

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I am still fully immersed in my Neo Zone, Dream-Edition. I needed this night so much, I have been swimming in stress and general weirdness for far too long with no release, no relief. Seeing NCT Dream healed me, at least a little, like being with a best friend* I don’t have – but six of them. (Renjun wasn’t on the US tour for health reasons and that part DID make me sad because he is my favorite!)

*(I guess this is where I’m supposed to say that Henry is my best friend lol. Fine.)

You basically had to take a number to get your picture taken in this area because the lights were so Neo. There were two girls taking pictures of each other while I waited and then they approached me and asked if I could take their picture with their Instax and then proceeded to explain to me how to use it as if I didn’t grow up in the fucking Polaroid generation of the 1980s.

Seriously though! This couldn’t be any more NCT vibes unless, I dunno, Mark and Chenle did a dance challenge video here for Instagram.

Those lime green lights! That perfect sunset! I’m dead. This night, man. And it hadn’t even started yet.

These girls and their Instax. I’m laughing but….I WISH I WAS THERE WITH A BFF AND OUR INSTAX.

About 45 minutes before the show started, I went with Henry to check out his seat. This was his view. He purposely got a seat at the very very very top, like Henry does.

Getting a feel for it, lol.

With 20 minutes or so to spare, I made my way to my seat. It wasn’t too bad! I was row 11. Rows 1-9 were blocked off in Ticketmaster because it was some sort of “suite,” but basically just a block of seats that some corporation must own, because right before the show started, a horde of people came in at once and they had these little paper tickets. The usher just had them fill in the seats however they wanted and I was laughing because some of the people looked like they had no idea what was going on, so I guess they won the tickets or were given them from work, who knows. But I was cracking up because one guy reminded me of my brother Ryan finding himself alone at a Kpop concert, having previously known nothing about it. He looked confused, but also kind of interested!

I was in between two pairs of friends. They were fine! We didn’t talk much, but the girl to my right complimented my Renjun shirt and had an ongoing struggle with her platform boots all night which was kind of adorable.

The show opened with the audio of “icantfeelanything” blasting through the space—it was completely bombastic and dramatic. It definitely raised the energy, and then when the NCT dropped to reveal the Dreamies on their bleacher-thingies, I screamed my throat raw as they went right into “Box.”

I could start at the very first song and tell you my thoughts on each one, but I don’t think my words matter—if you are someone who relies on music to heal your heart, you know. You understand what I was going through that night. The pure bliss, the tugging of the heartstrings, the teenage-y hysteria, having your “aw!” join the “aw!”s of 1000s of other NCTzens during the Ments, the collective laughs at the inside jokes—it feels like being with family.

I will note that this concert was completely different from last year’s Dream Show. Obviously Renjun wasn’t there and I will say that their energy seemed a bit off without him, they had to have been feeling his absence and it was sad. But you can just tell that they truly enjoy performing together, they’re not just “co-workers,” they’re friends.

FUCKIN’ HAECHAN. My ult bias of NCT. Watching him perform in person again (my 5th time if you count the times I have seen NCT127!) was everything. The Power of Haechan. His duality is incredible.

Chenle, as the kids say, eats CDs.

My pictures are trash obviously but it’s not about that. I just needed to capture the ambiance of the night. The lightsticks. The outfits.

Mark announced that a new NCT Dream album is in the works! He said it’s a little cute, a little sexy, and a little “stuff like Hello Future” and I am here for it, also as the kids say.

Here is the setlist, I’ll add notes after my faves!

SET 1

1. icantfeelanything (VCR)
2. BOX
3. SOS (I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY DID THIS ONE!!! THE LAST 15 SECONDS OF THIS SONG IS SOME OF MY BEST SECONDS OF MY LIFE.)
4. GO (!!!!! I SCREAM-SANG THIS ONE!!)

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I was looking through old shit on my camera roll and this cracked me up. Chooch was obsessed with musical.ly in 2016.

And this one he filmed in my grandparents master bathroom back in the dark days when we were cleaning out the house.

Those were the days. Except not. 2016 was so bad, just like this year lol. Many parallels but hopefully not when it comes to Trump.

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I was so hyped up by the time we parked in the UBS Arena garage, Joanne. The nerves were sizzling, the heart was horse-racing, I was so ready but also I WAS SO NOT READY. I still can’t believe that I was given another opportunity to see NCT Dream, just over a year after seeing them for the first time in April 2023.

2023 was a really nice year. Well, 3/4 of it was anyway.

I’ll get into all of the FEELS in my actual concert post, but today I just want to post pictures of pre-entry stuff because I haven’t sorted through my thoughts yet. And you guys thought that I had moved on from my emo / sad boy music era, LOL.

You.

Thought.

Still in the parking garage. Wearing my DIY NCT Vans and Renjun shirt – CRUSHED that Renjun is still on hiatus but so grateful that he is taking the time he needs to heal and recharge. We love you, Renjunnie <3

(IN CASE YOU DIDN’T KNOW, RENJUN IS MY DREAM BIAS.)

When we got in line, I immediately felt comfortable and a strong sense of belonging. I never feel like anyone gives me the “dafuq is this old bitch doing here” once over. No one even gives Henry a second glance. NCTzens are wonderful.

Much to Henry’s relief, no one was dressed like goth cowboys for this show. That’s just ATEEZ! NCT’s colors are lime / neon green so you see a lot of that, and there were also groups of people dressed like Candy-era NCT Dream which was fucking adorable and Henry said he regertz not cosplaying as such:

It could have been an opportunity for Henry to wear his Chanel visor. :(

The facade of UBS Arena was shockingly pretty!

I am so sensitive in my midlife crisis era that just looking at these chalk messages is making me fucking weep. I’m also half into a can of a Hitchhiker beer and the alcohol content of those is really high according to Megan was scared when I said I was going to drink some before a presentation we had to do and said, “PLEASE DON’T GET DRUNK – YOU SLUR WHEN YOU’RE DRUNK!”

NCT Dream completes me – I feel that.

ch

I think the reason why the recent ATEEZ concert didn’t resonate with me (again, I did enjoy it! But it didn’t make me emote, and it didn’t stick with me after it ended) is because while I have a casual bias, I don’t really watch a lot of their content so I don’t know their personalities all that well. But with NCT Dream (all of the NCT units, in fact), I have been so invested in their chaotic content for years and it makes me feel like I know them. I am sure some of that is embellished for idol purposes—it’s their career, after all—but it’s hard for me to believe that that is not actually the real charisma of Mark Lee, or that Jeno isn’t such a soft & unfunny puppy dog, or that Renjun isn’t the spiciest angel of the pack.

Plus, the duality of Haechan. Jisung touching plants and being the perfect naive maknae. Jaemin’s fucking demented personality. Chenle pulling off that smug rich kid agenda with aplumb.

I treasure these 7 dreamies with my whole heart. Their music and chaos have gotten me through so much, and this night was going to be the true testament – am I broken, or would being under the same roof as these powerhouses make me finally feel something other than gut-punching grief?

Here is a short video that breaks down NCT Dream in case anyone actually cares lol. (Hey, I’m forever trying! I recently got my metal friend Alyson to stan Renjun!)

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Kicked off haunted house season tonight with a jaunt through Crawford Haunted School! Some of these places opened two weekends ago but we were away both weekends so, “late” start for us I guess.

Weird not having Chooch with us but in reality, he hadn’t really been going to these with us that much the last few years so I guess he was helping us pre-cope lol.

As usual, all the deets go in my haunted house journal but I will say that this was kind of meh this yeah ONLY because they sent us through with two annoying women, but then the second half was better because I finagled my way ahead of them.

I love my haunted house journal so much, haha. I’m hoping this season pumps some life back into me.

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*except that I was with Henry so define ‘shenanigans.’

We left the house bright and early Saturday morning for our drive to Long Island. I was excited because while we have been to NYC, we’ve never been to Long Island and I like going to new places. I had been researching vegan places to eat at before the show and had it whittled down to one winner, so I was excited about that too!

Surprisingly, the drive was pretty calm. I wasn’t being a raging asshole like I have been for the last several months. I felt calm (with an underlying sense of OMG NCT DREAM rippling through my nervous system) and we didn’t fight at all. I even kept my wedding band on!

At one of many rest stops. I just wanted to get a picture in my Renjun shirt! (It was already announced last month that Renjun would be continuing his health hiatus and not joining the Dreamies for the US leg of their tour. Of course, I was heartbroken over this because everyone knows he is my Dream bias but I am also glad that he was given the option and did what he felt was right for him at the same. I’m not sure what his current standing is but he seemed to really be going through mental and emotional duress last spring and I just really hope he has been getting the help he needs and that he is being kind and gentle with himself. I worry about him so much. :(

The first half of the drive was spent finishing a book – The Clinic, it was just “OK.” Actually, it was kind of stupid, I lied. Literally nothing notable happened. I had avocado toast for breakfast from Dunkin’ (I know, don’t hate me for being so fucking fancy) and then later, veggie wrap from Sheetz. Henry really knows how to wine and dine a bitch.

But then once we reached the end of NJ and started seeing signs for THE GEORGE WASHINGTON BRIDGE, things got livelier. And by that, I mean that we hit grid-locked traffic and it took us 45 minutes just to get on the bridge. Henry was flipping out but everyone around us seemed calm like this was normal, but Henry was like, “WHAT ARE THOSE CARS UP THERE DOING?? ARE THEY CREATING THEIR OWN LANE?? THEY CAN’T DO THAT!” OK, highway patrol, calm down.

NYC! No time to mess around there, sadly.

I loved this NY Welcome sign so much. We have never driven into NYC before – always taken the train from either Newark or Jersey City so this was all new. I FELT LIKE A DISNEY PRINCESS. A WHOLE NEW WORLD BRIDGE.

We had several hours to kill once we got to Long Island and, after driving past UBS Arena and seeing the line of NCTzens that had already formed which got my heart racing a bit, we went straight to the vegan spot du jour – Toma-Tis. It’s vegan Caribbean cuisine! 

I’m just going to copy my Yelp review after this part, but I want to first talk about how relaxed and friendly the whole ordering process was. We were greeted by a super friendly lady who didn’t rush us – she was all smiles and didn’t make us feel like interlopers like sometimes will happen at vegan places, ugh. The pretension can be off the charts at times. But not here!

We placed our orders and then sat at a table by the window to wait. A woman who I assume is the owner came out front and started chatting with us – LOVED HER. We had a nice chat about being plant based and she was impressed that Henry, who still eats meat, cooks vegetarian / vegan food for me. And she and I both eschewed meat for the same reason – we didn’t like how our mothers cooked meat!

My favorite part was when the restaurant’s phone rang and it was a young kid calling from Jamaica! She kept saying, “Where’s your mother? Put your mother on the phone.” I guess he hung up and she goes, “That was a young kid calling from Jamaica!” and then she went in the back to tell the women in the kitchen too. LOL.

Then she asked where we’re from since I said we were traveling and I told her that we had come here from Pgh for a concert at UBS and she said, “Oh! You’re here for that concert?!” so I guess she knew about it!

NO WAIT I LIED. My favorite part was actually when she was asking us if we’ve ever had Jamaican food before. We said no (closest I would say is ShadoBeni here in Pgh which is vegan Trinidadian cuisine) and she exclaimed, “Oh my god! And this will be your first! What made you come here??” and I told her that we’re always looking for local vegan places when we’re traveling and this place stuck out to me when I saw it on Google. (“Thank you, Google!” she said.) She asked me if I ordered the jerk “chicken” and after I told her what I had ordered, one of the other ladies said, “He’s the jerk,” and pointed to Henry as she caught herself. “Oh no,  that’s not what I meant! I meant he ordered the jerk! I’m so sorry!” but we were all cracking up so bad and I kept saying, “No, it’s true, he is the jerk!” It was so funny.

YOU HAD TO BE THERE OK. YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND.

Anyway, the owner told me to call her and let her know what I thought and I was going to do except that I am averse to phone calls so I did one better and left a thorough review on Yelp and Google. :)

I was just as excited to come here as I was for the concert!

First of all, the service was SO PERSONAL. Everyone there was so friendly, chatting with us about veganism, etc. The owner especially was so sweet and made us feel like we were really being taken care of.

We didn’t want to go crazy with ordering since we were going to be going to a concert right after and tried to order light by sharing the jerk chicken sandwich, a pumpkin patty and a jackfruit/chickpea patty, cassava fries, and a slice of pie which I think they said was some type of potato “pudding”?

Everything was so delicious, substantial, and satisfying! The cassava fries were light and not greasy at all but still had so much unique flavor, I was swooning over them!

The jerk chicken was out of this world and I regret not getting a whole one for myself! The seasoning, the crisp of the “chicken,” even the bread it was on was perfect.

Both patties were warm and savory, a perfect handheld snack. AND THAT PIE! Unlike anything I have ever eaten – it was just the right amount of sweet, loaded with spices and flavor, dense and chewy. One of those things that you eat and then can’t stop thinking about. We had half of it saved and I’m not going to lie – I thought about it a few times during the concert and then immediately dug into it in the car afterward!

I don’t want to come back here, I NEED to come back. The menu is so extensive, and I want to try some of the entrees – hoe many places do you know that serve vegan oxtail?? I need to try it.

I am so happy that we found Toma-Tis and I will be recommending it to all of my friends, vegan or not! (FWIW, Henry is not vegan and he devoured everything happily!)

pumpkin patty!

We drove a few minutes down the street to some state park (Valley Stream State Park – there, I’m a good blogger and I checked the geotag on my photos, HAPPY?) and stuffed our fucking faces at a picnic table while numerous family picnics were going on around us. It was F E S T I V E. Music was playing, people were grilling, a middle-aged Black dad was doing the cabbage patch and I wanted to join their party bigly. It was a lively park!

The picture does not do it justice but this is the jerk chicken sandwich that Henry split with me. It was so satisfying right down to the bread it was on. RegERT not getting my own, you know that’s right.

I really think the cassava fries were my favorite though! They were so light, not greasy at all, and the texture – well, if you’ve had anything made with cassava then you know, but it’s so pleasing. I don’t know what the sauce was – it was thick, creamy, and had a slight spicy tang to it. Made the cassava fries that much better which I didn’t think was possible!

THIS EFFING PIE! Just looking at it gave me a tastebud flashback in the best way possible. It was unlike anything I’ve ever tried. It had a very distinct spice that was definitely dominating the rest of the flavs – Henry said he thought it was nutmeg. Whatever it was, it left a very enjoyable aftertaste in my mouth that kept this pie on my mind for some time. We only ate half of it between us because it was so dense, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t craving it here and there during the concert later. (Yes, I ate some in the car on the way to the hotel afterward, LOL.)

After we ate, we had a really nice stroll around the park because:

1. I needed to get my 10,000 steps;
2. IT’S CALLED “NEEDING TO DIGEST,” MY FRIENDS.

This park was so nice and wooded! We saw many Mr. Gray Guys, and even a Cousin Bun Bun:

We left around 6pm to head back to UBS Area and begin what would become one of the best nights of 2024 (I mean, that’s not a hard title to take since this year has sucked so hard, but still!).

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