There’s this amazing donut shop called Donut Friend, owned by MARK TROMBINO. (If you don’t know who he is, that makes me sad, and also he’s a MULTI-PLATINUM record producer and was also in the band Drive Like Jehu, OMG I loved them.) I’m not a huge donut person, but these donuts look disgustingly perfect and also have names like the S’MORRISSEY, CHOCOLATE FROM THE CRYPT, COCONUT OF CONFORMITY, FUDGEGAZI, BACON182 and of course DRIVE LIKE JELLY.
Their cinnamon buns are called Jimmy Eat Swirls, for fuck’s sake.
You might have guessed that these are brilliant plays on BAND NAMES AND I HAVE TO EAT THEM ALL EXCEPT THE BACON182 ONE BECAUSE — MEAT.
Why would Henry and I fight about this, you’re wondering but probably not because by now you know that we’ll fight about anything.
We fought about it because I have been begging him to take me to LA and he’s like “WE’RE NOT GOING TO LA JUST FOR DONUTS” and I’m like no shit, Amoeba Records too. But then he had the audacity to say, “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW IF THEY TASTE GOOD” and I said I DID know, because how could donuts with such perfect names NOT taste good? So then he got angry because the only reason I want to eat the donuts in the first place is because of their names and I’m like yeah so? Why can’t he just be OK with that?
We fought about this in the car after he picked me up from work Wednesday night and he made me so stressed out about it that I had to sit on my hands so I wouldn’t Turn Erin and start clawing his face or pulling his hair.
2. Me Fighting with Chooch
This is a thing that happens pretty much every day because Chooch knows everything which is unfortunate because I happen to know everything, too, yet somehow the things we know are NEVER THE SAME. We literally will fight about anything and everything and it drives Henry mad because he hates how competitive we are with each other and he’s always imploring me to “be the bigger person” but then I have to go ahead and have the last word because I’m ALWAYS THE BIGGER PERSON HAVE YOU SEEN MY THIGHS THEY’RE LIKE TREE TRUNKS. Just let me win!!
“Stop engaging him!” Henry cried Friday night while Chooch and I basically screamed “NO YOU SHUT UP!!!!” back and forth until even Marcy rolled her eyes, to which Chooch sneered, “YEAH MOMMY” and then Henry snapped and said to him, “I can still engage you!”
At least SOMEONE is getting engaged.
3. Paul Eugene
He just doesn’t get it. Every night, I am getting raptured by the joy that is Paul Eugene’s gospel aerobics and Henry leaves the room in a huff. Because Henry hates to see me happy, that’s why! After the hockey game last night, I did a 30-minute cardio celebration routine while Henry pouted in the bedroom. When it was over, I told Henry he could come back down, but in that short period of time, I found a short, 10-minute workout that I wanted to try because Paul was wearing a red t-shirt and red track pants, and I hadn’t ever seen him in red before. So Henry came into the room and shouted, “YOU SAID YOU WERE DONE” and I said, “Well, I guess I changed my mind, didn’t I?” and then he threw one of his signature little tantrums (you know, because that’s so in character for him) and stomped back upstairs. SORRY if I’m trying to better myself and PAUL is helping me in ways that you CAN’T, Henry.
I got angry at Henry Thursday night because he returned from the store right when I was in the middle of a Paul Eugene dance workout. I was just about to start the “giving an offering” step when Henry WALKED IN FRONT OF ME and totally made me lose my count.
He won’t even respond to my Paul Eugene-related texts during the day, and wasn’t interested when I woke him up late last night to tell him that one of my old high school friends is friends with Paul on Facebook!
Look, right now Henry is enjoying some banal TV program but little does he know I’m about to stop writing after this sentence so I can go and get my motherfucking GOSPEL ON.
[ETA: while I was doing my gospel dance celebration workout, the neighbor knocked on our door so I ran upstairs and let Henry answer it, in his underwear, while Paul Eugene was in the background, praise-walking and screaming about giving thanks.]
As in, I want all of it and to go to all of the shows. I finally bought my Pierce the Veil ticket for next month—at the same time my student loans came out of the account—and the CHACHING!! sound effects accompanying the draining of our bank account was muffled by the rumbles and crunches of Henry’s face folding into deep creases and stress lines. And then I had the audacity to make Henry listen to A Lot Like Birds, which he hates, and we fought because he disagreed when I said, “Don’t you think this song is pretty much perfect?”
I think he’s just pissed that he’s not smart enough to come up with lines like “Your body is a howling, haunted petting zoo that I really shouldn’t touch.”
(But on the real though, that 3:54 mark where Kurt Travis painfully wails “You’re already dressed”? It makes tears spontaneously drop from eyes like hydrogen bombs of sadness. Every. Single. Time.)
(Yes, even right now.)
5. Every Little Thing For the Last 2 Hours
I woke up hating him this morning. He probably did something fucked up in my dream, like the other night when he was having an affair with some white trash bleached blond dumdum named Brandiiii and she drove a powder blue car and they can both go suck a dick–PREFERABLY IN SOMEONE ELSE’S DREAM THOUGH. So nothing he has been doing has been OK with me since 7AM and he just thrust a plated omelet at me and growled, “HERE, ASSHOLE” and it was a really good omelet too BUT I WON’T TELL HIM THAT.
I’m praise-walking on out of here. I hope your weekend is one big gospel celebration party!