Aug 122020

HEY Y’ALL just some words talkin’ ’bout the boring ass shit that my kid and I have been up to while stranded at home these days.

We have really been trying to make the best of this limited-option summer. Our summer breakfast club has been barely limping along, because neither of us really want to eat in restaurants so for like an entire week, we were like, “Donuts?” “OK, sure.” And then we’d just walk to Potomac Bakery, grab a donut, get some coffee across the street at Muddy Cup and bring it back to our front porch.

It is what it is, as…you know, the people say. 

It’s hard to find breakfast options that work as takeout, though. I mean, sunny side up eggs? Definitely not. Pancakes? Ugh, probably will get soggy.


So we’ve been trying to find places that have breakfast sandwiches. I noticed one day on a walk that another local cafe, 802 Cafe (which is such a fucking original name, it’s literally the street number, but OK) had “SPINACH ARTICHOKE HANDPIES” written on its sidewalk sign.

Hold up, wait a minute, savory handpies and they don’t have meat?! Fuck yes.

So Chooch and I went there on Friday and he was so annoyed because when the barista asked if I wanted them heated or to go, I said to go and he shot me that shitty teenager side eye like the barista was going to do anything different than I would do by nuking it for 90 seconds.

I mean, mine was fantastic but of course Chooch, already setting the tone for this breakfast session, was like, “it was ok but parts of mine were cold” which was his passive aggressive way of throwing it in my face that I told the barista we’d heat them up at home. God, why are kids such assholes. 

But yeah, the handpies were from a local joint called 350 Bakery (ugh, what is up with numerical names?! I hate them!) and I am basically obsessed. Which I know, how odd, since I rarely become obsessed with things. 

Ever since I broke my back [honestly, it’s been like a month now and I probably should go see a doctor but you know me, stubborn and whatever else they say about me behind my (broken) back], I’ve been using my lunch breaks to go for walks instead of doing whatever home workouts I felt inspired to do that day (usually cardio dancing!). Chooch has been going with me which means he’s bored AF at home to be willingly going on strolls with his mother. Literally, I never have to force him, he’s just like, “Let me get my shoes.”

We saw this cool sign on one of our walks last week:

I of course sent it straight to Henry.

We’ve been walking around one of the local high schools lately and I’m so mad that the track is locked to the public because I used to love walking on that thing, especially during the Law Firm walking challenges! I would walk so many laps, I would forget where the fuck I was. Those were the days. Sigh.

Yesterday, right before we left for our walk, I noticed that we were both wearing Dance Gavin Dance shirts so I made up a jazzy jingle about Mommy & Son Matching Shirts Let’s Go For a Walk Cha Cha Cha. Chooch was like, “OH HELL NO” and was about to change his shirt but then he was like, “fuck it” with a sigh, because ambivalence always wins these days.

Then I was like, “Oh, also, I have to return a book to the library” and he was like “FML” because he hates Book Erin so much and even the simple act of me dropping a book into the curbside book return bin makes him irate. Plus, I made him pose for a picture!

We almost had to go to the post office too but I got angry because there were people in line and I just can’t deal with covid-era post offices these days, you guys. No thank you. 

We went back to 802 Cafe though because I wanted an iced coffee to take to the playground, and Chooch was so embarrassed because I told the barista that we bought handpies from there last week and then he spent a good while mimicking me saying, “HOLY CRAP THEY WERE SO FREAKING GOOD” and called me a suck-up and I was like, “Who was I sucking up to? That cafe didn’t even make the handpies!” 

He just gets so mad when I find my voice (I call it the pre-meat company voice, from back when I still had a personality) and talk to strangers in public (as opposed to talking to stranger in private, which sounds way more scandalous and interesting…)

Anyway, I was trying to make nice with the barista because when we were there on Friday, I ordered a rose latte with almond milk and I caught that red bottle cap out of the corner of my eye and looked over just in time to see her tipping over a jug of Vitamin D above my latte.

“WAIT!” I cried out. “Is that almond milk?” 

She stopped suddenly and if this moment had been animated, we’d have all froze while the stream of milk would be swirling in midair, looking at its watch and sighing. “Oh shoot, I’m so sorry!” she said, hurriedly capping the jug and pulling out the carton of almond milk, just in time. Sorry, Vitamin D swirl.  She kept apologizing and I was like, “I mean, I wouldn’t have died or anything…” Truth be told, I think I might be a bit lactose intolerant these days but the real reason why I hardly ever ingest real-ass milk anymore is the calories, lololol. God, I’m such a superficial vegan. 

(I’m not vegan, but when you consider what I eat on most days of my life, I probably live a 75% vegan lifestyle by sheer accident and laziness.)

Anyway, then we made it to the playground and he was happy for the entire 3 minutes he was able to enjoy life on a swing until I was like, “Oh shit, we have to start walking back or I’m going to be ‘late’ getting back to ‘the office’!” 

Today’s adventure found us walking to the used book store on Potomac. I wanted to find some good horror paperbacks from the 80s because I think they would make cool plant shelves in the kitchen. Just…trust me. I know what I’m doing. Unfortunately, I spent most of the time just looking for the horror shelf (yes! just one small shelf!) so that by the time the lady finally decided to help me, I was too aggravated to even care that much so we left. On our way out, she said, “Didn’t find anything, huh?” in this SUPER CONDESCENDING VOICE while making a “AW SO SAD” face and I was like, “She probably thinks we’re illiterate” and Chooch was like, “Well, you listen to audio books more than actually reading these days, so you probably are.” WOW RUDE ASS! And I will have you know that I’m selective about what books I listen to on audio and which ones I read with my eyeballs! I like listening to memoirs because they’re more personal and intimate that way, and I like listening to thrillers because they help my work day go faster. But most other things, I read! WHY AM I DEFENDING MYSELF HERE?!

Then we crossed the street and went to Muddy Cup for refreshments. I got a cold brew and when the barista (this older Black woman who we’ve only seen twice so far but she is SO FREAKING LOVELY) asked if I wanted room for cream, I said “Sure,” because I always add cream at home since we have a fridge full of fancy flavors. 


We both misunderstood each other though and I caught her just as she was about to top it off with some half-n-half.

“No!” I said, probably a bit too passionately. “I have cream at home that I can use.” 
She was like, “Oh. OK.” And then I worried that I offended her; I mean, I know it wasn’t like, half-n-half from her very own teat or anything, but I feel like I came off as being super paranoid and sketchy, the way I said it like that. 

Also, I’m not sure my addition was right when I was leaving her tip on the receipt…

What a strange week of milk-centric cafe outbursts.

Here’s where shit gets good, you guys. On our way home, we were waiting to cross over this busy road called WEST LIBERTY AVENUE. There’s a crosswalk where it intersects with my street. The walk sign had just come on, and it’s a good thing that I’m a professional at crossing the road there (that’s where I would have to cross every morning when walking to the stupid ass trolley!!), because I know that cars in the right turning lane don’t always pay attention to the big fucking NO TURN ON RED sign and just love to squeal their way around that bend regardless of pedestrians.

So while Chooch and I were crossing, I was being uber-vigilant and it’s a good thing too because this big ass motherwhompin’ dumptruck came hurtling through and made that turn RIGHT IN FRONT OF US without stopping. The driver made eye contact with me too and just kept on going, forcing Chooch and me to stand in the middle of the crosswalk and wait. (And then of course that set the tone so the car behind him tried to pull the same stunt but I screamed OH NO YOU DON’T and it was a super old man who looked scared, so he stopped. Because you know, the light was red.)

Anyway, guess what company that dump truck belonged to? FACCHIANO!!! The same company that employs another driver who nearly turned me into a road pancake two weeks ago!!!

Oh I was fuming.

“I AM WRITING A LETTER!” I yelled. “No! I’m going to call them!” Chooch was like, “Oh god” so I opted instead to email them. I donned my Karen wig, went to their shitty ass website (they use WordPress, lol muy professionale) and clicked on the top dog’s email address.

“They’re not going to care,” Henry laughed when I called him screaming my face off. 

Anyway, here is my email. I made sure that I didn’t swear or make threats which is usually my go-to but I have learned that I am sometimes not taken seriously and perhaps considered “hotheaded” and written off, for some reason.


In the meantime, I went on Google and had a grand time reading some of the reviews this Shit Inc. has received:



LOL, OK Jimmy Dean. You stick to the sausages and leave the review-writing to the big kids. 


So basically, it sounds like being an inconsiderate fuck stick is what they’re looking for on CVs so keep that in mind if you’re ever finding yourself applying at this garbage dump of a company. 

I was super fired up at this point SO I LEFT A GOOGLE REVIEW, TOO. I AM UNSTOPPABLE. Meanwhile, I was emailing my team at work because I needed to vent and now they call me Karen Kelly.

Anyway, fuck off Henry, because Michael emailed me back within the hour!!!

I mean, OK cool – you stole a book title there, bro, and no I didn’t get the vehicle numbers, I was too busy clutching my pearls and fanning my ghost back into my body!! And also “IF THIS HAPPENS AGAIN”?? If it happens again, I will be calling the local news stations and I dunno, the Brookline Patch, lol. Get those mommies up to speed. And you better believe I’ll start a full-fledged smear campaign with stickers and yard signs. Everybody loves them some stickers and yard signs.

In fact, I might add some chalk messages to my social justice sidewalk tomorrow.

Back at work, Nate emailed me and said ERIN THEY UPDATED THEIR WEBSITE:

(Please note that is my employee ID which was taken 10 years ago and although I have recently had an updated photo taken last fall, whoever is in charge still has not updated it even though I have sent three follow-up emails and then gave up because COVID, WHO CARES.)

I was crying from laughing so hard and when I showed Chooch, he said, “Wait – they put your picture on their website? They really did that?” Yes, Chooch the Gifted. It’s all real. Shh, sweet boy, go back to naptime. 

I’m now scared of how he’s going to fare with online schooling this semester. 

Well, that’s all I have right now. My life is so exciting! Maybe if I had something better to do rather than roam around my neighborhood in a state of constant ennui, I wouldn’t be putting myself in the position of vehicular homicide so often!

Oh no wait I lied I have one more thing! On one of our walks last week, actually I think it was Friday, we passed a house that had a Little Library and inside was the third Elizabeth Acevado book I need to read in order to complete the trifecta, but I said, “I WILL GRAB IT ON THE WAY BACK” then I was preoccupied with finding a missing TURTLE because we saw several MISSING signs posted except none of them even mentioned the turtle’s name which made me feel like the turtle’s home was emotionally abusive and he ran away on purpose.

Ugh I get so distracted. Anyway, on the way back I was back in BOOK MODE because what else do I have to live for, but as we approached the block with the Little Library, I spied a young couple rummaging through it and I started blabbering to Chooch about how she was going to take my book and do you think she’s going to take my book and Chooch was like “well she’s holding a blue one and your book was read, oh wait she’s putting that one back…” and then it looked like she was going to go for my book but it was a fake out. Instead, she closed the door and they continued walking on, at which point I speedwalked (my back still hurts too much to run) over and snatched my book so fast.

“We should have a Little Library in our yard,” I said to Chooch. “But it can be like a creepy circus tent—“

“Oh boy, here we go,” he sighed.

Actually, we probably shouldn’t have one. With the riffraff shuffling past our house on the daily, it’ll just become a catch-all for vomit, syringes, empty prescription bottles…no. Just, no.

Say it don't spray it.

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