May 162010

I can’t tell you how many times a day I say to Chooch, “You’re lucky you’re cute.” Not that it would be any easier to ship him off to the nuns if he, I don’t know, had a cleft palate; that would be rude. But you know what I mean. It’s make it hard to stay mad at him for too long. Although after he modified Speck’s ear last week, my extreme anger and disappointment were able to withstand his cuteness for nearly an entire day.

may10choochThis was at Buttermilk Falls on Mother’s Day, lovely fucking Mother’s Day. It was the day after Chooch’s party, where he apparently suffered some mysterious injury to his leg/knee/ankle/foot which rendered him partially handicapped. Anytime we’d ask him which leg hurt, he’d wailed, “All of them!” I have a feeling he twisted his ankle or something, because he was fine after the weekend.


This is my current favorite picture of Chooch.Henry said he thought this door used to belong to a porn shop. “Or a gay bar,” he said.

We spent the day downtown yesterday. The entire day. Doing nothing but walking except for the thirty minutes we sat down for lunch at the Oyster House, where the waitress did that thing where Chooch is the only patron at the table and all her inquiries are directed at him. She was trying to guess his name, and the first name she came up with was Henry, which I thought was amazing and couldn’t stop talking about it afterward, even took up ten pages in my diary just for that. This is not true. I told Alisha when she met us downtown afterward, and that was it. Oh, and the Internet. So I guess I told three people.


This was immediately after Chooch chased a huge pack of pigeons into a table of diners.


After wrangling Alisha, we got tart pomegranate frozen yogurt from some new place near my work called Sweet Lix. It was good, but Henry was quietly fuming at the cost. But come on, he had to have known as soon as we walked into the shop’s glowing white interior, with space-aged tables (the kinds you’re expected to STAND at) and new age music floating pretentiously from the ceiling (from which hung large white lanterns that can probably be purchased at IKEA) that he was about to pay over $7 for two small cups of frozen yogurt.

Alisha got granola on hers and talked about it for upward of an hour.

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Apparently Alisha REALLY likes granola. I’m going to buy her some Birkenstocks. I’m pretty sure that was what she was hinting around to.

On our way toward the Point, we witnessed two elderly black men fighting in the middle of the street. A middle-aged man was trying to convince the taller one of the guys to just walk away, which he did, but not without a ton of attitude and vitriol. The other man, a short toad-looking asshole, waited until he was clear across the street to start running his mouth again. I was like, “OH NO HE DI’NT” and apparently the taller one was thinking the same thing because he came barreling around the corner right in front of us, speed-walked through traffic (nearly getting hit by a bus, except not so nearly but it sounds more exciting when you think he nearly did), caught up to the toad guy and THREW HIS DRINK ON HIM.

I stood there watching, in the middle of the sidewalk, while Henry tried to get me to stop gawking. “I’m Team THAT GUY,” I enthused to Alisha. It made me want to get into a fight.

Not that I do shit like that. I’m a lady, after all.

Then, for the third time that day, I found myself walking across a bridge. This particular bridge was having construction done on it and ROCKS were flying down from above and HITTING ME. I wasn’t pleased about this and am now going to one of those town hall meeting things so I can yell about it. I’m going to bring a gun and wave it around a lot. That’ll get it done.

Once across the bridge, we walked along the disgusting river.

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A small docked boat contained a lounging couple, sipping champagne and looking generally snobby and extremely uninteresting to me.

“Who does that?” I scoffed to Alisha.

“Well, some people do actually enjoy that,” Alisha explained, and I rolled my eyes.

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There is a horrifying monument to Mister Rogers down there. I had nightmares.


On the way back to the bridge, a crowd had gathered around two old black guys who were fishing.

“Looks like they caught a fish,” Henry stated obviously.

I began gagging. But then I was just annoyed. “Really? People actually stopped to watch this?” I asked loudly. I was appalled. And then Alisha pointed out that they were listening to Whitney Houston on their transistor radio and I wanted to kick it into the river.

Then Chooch interrupted a couple trying to smoke a joint and we went home. I’m really tired today.

  23 Responses to “Pictures of Chooch & A Pointless Trip Downtown”

  1. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen something chooch is wearing, and wished it were made in my size

    that mister rogers statue looks like its made out of bronzed turds

  2. I read somewhere once that baby cuteness (human, kittens, puppies, any babies really) is deliberately engineered by nature to prevent their otherwise insufferable behavior from resulting in widespread infant homicide.

    Holy crap, Mister Rogers after a nuclear blast maybe.

    • God, that would make a LOT of sense then.

      I don’t know who made that statue, but it’s really terrible. It was my first time seeing it and I was really disappointed.

  3. I love your recap, it reminds me of the narration in Amelie, which I still haven’t finished watching, because James always comes home and whines about it because he can’t read the subtitles.

    I really do love your photos of Chooch — he IS such a cute kid! I think it’s so great that you take so many of them, too. He’s really going to appreciate that some day.

    That Mister Rogers is the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen. His teeth look like Chiclets and he looks like he belongs in the gardens of Rose Red, not downtown Pittsburgh.

    • Thanks, Ally! Chooch is a pretty good sport, considering I’m almost constantly shoving a lens in his face. Though I wonder if he thinks this is normal?

      Henry hates subtitles, too! Amelie is such a great movie, but I couldn’t get him to watch it with me. Although, now that I think about it, he’ll watch foreign horror movies. I think the subtitle thing must have been a cop-out because he was afraid a movie like Amelie would make his weener shrink.

      I hate that statue! I’m going to Google it right now because I really need to see what other shit the artist has done.

    • Finish Amelie, it’s great, I love that movie!

      • I know! I’ve been wanting to watch it for a really long time and I finally thought I was safe this weekend, but my husband came home early from work. Luckily, I dvr’ed it. :)

  4. Hmm..I’d totally take a pair of ‘birks’ go with my pedi! That granola was so good, though!

  5. I’m happy to hear Chooch’s mystery leg ailment was resolved. Jessi also raves about granola …. damn hippy. I think that’s why her and Alisha get along so well.

    • I think maybe it might be because Alisha likes big racks, also. :P

      (I think that might be the first time I ever used “:P”)

    • *cough* It’s “ie” not “y” douche cup… *cough*

      You love my hippie-ness, admit it. You’ve jumped on the love train yourself buddy! You eat granola bars on a daily basis and even started dreadlocking your pubes, you don’t have me fooled!

  6. Have you ever seen the human tree guy? (If you havent, do yourself a favor and dont go looking for it.) Thats immediately what my mind went to when I saw the picture of the Mr. Rodgers statue.
    Now Im going to have nightmares. yick.

  7. “and new age music floating pretentiously from the ceiling”


    And, that Mr. Rogers looks like the Rockbiter from Neverending Story, and it’s creepy. CREEPY.

    But this whole post Tolhursted me.

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