I came across this idiot photo of myself from a Girl Scout field trip to Triple B Farms in 1987 and that fucking bow on my dome made me laugh because basically I was a style icon to 2000’s-era scene girls everywhere. I always wore those puffy, cushiony bows back then like it was a compulsion. My mom bought them at Children’s Place and Kids R Us. It definitely brought to mind all the scene queens we used to see specifically at Chiodos shows, just a fucking sea of pastel-haired Minnie Mouse-bowed waifs flitted about on wafts of their own ennui, waiting for a chance to bat their fake gooey eyelashes at Craig Owens.
For old time’s sake, I googled “scene girl at Chiodos show” and then laughed because the second thing that came up was a link to my blog. God, did I have my finger on the comb-over fringe-haired pulse back then or what.
Then I did an image search and saw that Blake and Robbie, Henry’s sons, are in the first few pictures, so I was like “haha oh shit” and texted a screenshot to Henry, who replied with, “Yeah, keep scrolling down. Thanks, Erin.”
HILAR. Henrietta, the ultimate scene queen.
Of course I ran right to Facebook with this because that’s just what I do: stroke my succulents, fuck grammar in the ass, and emasculate Henry on social media. Robbie commented on it with a succinct “haha” to which Henry replied, “Don’t laugh to [sic] hard. Your picture comes up also.”
Yeah but at least there’s an actual girl in the picture with Robbie.
Henry can try to fight it all he wants but he IS A PART OF THE SCENE.