Mar 072022

After we ate lunch (that bouncy grilled cheese, yo!) on Saturday, I wanted to go out and be one with nature because it was practically 70 degrees out! March is truly so underrated. It is like, the month of hope and thawing hearts. Like, winter is finally in the rear view mirror and we’re pedaling up toward the tulips.

Since we were in the area, I suggested that we just go to Ohio Pyle with all the other nature riffraff. I knew it would be crowded (for nature) because it was such a beautiful day, but it wasn’t overwhelmingly bad.

Henry was annoyed because I’m never dressed appropriately for “nature walks” but more like “teenager going to the mall.” Whatevelyn.


Apparently, you can go WHITE WATER RAFTING on this river-thing. It made me have a flashback to the time we went to Tennessee a long time ago and all of the girls in our group pre-planned a white water rafting trip but didn’t include me and I was sad at the time.

“Now that I think about it,” I mused to Henry while staring out into the raging rapids, “that was probably for the best.”

Henry laughed, but it was the kind of laughter that is more like a hard, staccato cough meant to signify the words “YOU AIN’T KIDDING.”

Speaking of raging rapids, I would not be sad if Kennywood got rid of their Raging Rapids and put in an RMC single-rail or something equally as good and non-water-ridey.

Henry was annoyed because I matched so match. I was like a walking cringefest and he was so happy to be seen with me. Actually, though, I put this outfit together because I had recently bought that shirt and the owner of the Etsy shop was like I WILL GIVE YOU A DISCOUNT IF YOU TAKE PICS IN THE SHIRT so later on, I made Henry TAKE PICTURES OF ME IN THE SHIRT and as usual it caused a huge blowout because his specialty is shooting me from all my bad sides/angles (to be fair, there are many so his odds are good). More on that in a separate post because I gotta stretch out that content, dear reader(s).


We had about 87 fights in this area which was kind of stupid considering how many openings he had to OOPS push me in. He was mad because he was desperate to go inside the visitor’s center for some reason and I was like, “Why, it’s just gonna be a bunch of maps and rock formation dioramas.”

Meanwhile on the other side of the road, there are all kinds of places to get your RIVER PERSON GEAR and whatnot. Also, souvenirs, but like what kind of souvenirs are they shilling out at Ohio Pyle?? I bet it’s just, like, fancy rocks and pennants.

While we were walking past all this shit, I wondered about what would have happened if I had ended up with a guy was into that shit. Like, camping and wearing life vests, etc.

“Well, you wouldn’t have lasted long, obviously,” Henry scoffed and I disagree with this because my pre-Henry dating experience showed me that guys tended to CLING so who knows how that could have panned out. Maybe I’d have kept a non-nature boy on the side to chill with whenever Russ went to go stick a flag on the top of a mountain. (I just imagine that someone like that would be named Russ and now I’m laughing because I ACTUALLY DID DATE A GUY NAMED RUSS but forgot until just now; however, I don’t think he was into wilderness things and also I think we only dated for like a month in 11th grade, it was not that big of a deal.)

A Church.

Me in front of A Church.

We walked along another trail for a bit, just in time to see some young child nearly ride their bike, training wheels and all, over a small gorge. The dad ran after it (I didn’t look to see if it was a boy or a girl because it didn’t matter) and as he grabbed the back of its bike, he looked at us and we all laughed nervously, pretending that his kid didn’t just perish over a cliff in Ohio Pyle.

At Ohio Pyle?

On Ohio Pyle?

What the fuck even is an PYLE??

I hissed out of the side of my mouth to Henry, “Let’s get away from these people before we end up as eye witnesses” so we went down to the WATER which was nice and calm since it was a bit away from that water fall / rapid area thing where we started.

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I wanted to start a series of TREE POSIN’ WITH ERIN AND HENRY but I’m not certain how often I will be able to get Henry to participate and also, for example, all he was doing here was mimicking my awkward poses so I’m not even sure I want to give him the clearance to do that again, if we’re being honest with each other here and obviously we are because “honesty” is like my brand. Well, there are probably worse things that are my brand first. But “honesty” is there somewhere.

Henry was very smug about this shot of me mid-ass brush.

I had enough of OHIO PYLE by then, so we left. Not before I blasted NCT127 “Earthquake” as we drove past a gaggle of hillbilly hunter guys congregating around the pick-up truck in the parking lot.

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Henry was like, “Wow, great, thanks.” He loves when I draw attention to us.

On the way back home, I had a vague memory of being with my mom one time in middle school or high school, while she was spying on someone (probably—that was like her big past time back then).

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All I could remember was that she had taken me somewhere “to the right, off one of these roads up here” near Perryopolis, to a place called Linden something. Henry was like, “Reminder that it’s 2022 and you can find anything on that iPhone in your hand” so I googled it and yelled LINDEN HALL just as we saw a sign on the side of the road that said LINDEN HALL. So Henry was like, “OK gas is 900 dollars but sure let’s take a detour into the unknown” so that is how we ended up driving and driving and driving past all kinds of actual VILLAGES and even the SILENCE OF THE LAMBS house which I completely forgot was out that way:

Until we finally made it to Linden Hall, which is just a golf course / mansion / wedding venue apparently. The mansion was really petty and I wanted to go in but Henry said IT IS CLOSED even though all the lights were on, but OK, sir. He was just pissed because as we drove past the golf course on the way in, I leaned across and screamed, “MISS IT!!!!” out the window at all the golfers with saggy butts.

“Why do you have to be so childish,” he sighed, wanting to die.

Then on the way back out to the main road, I asked him to slow down so I could take a picture of the house with all the obnoxious Trump signs but it was only because I wanted the opportunity to screech TRUMP SUCKS at the house, to which Henry responded by stepping on the gas, frantically trying to roll up my window, while muttering, “God damn you.” Wow, Henry’s hidden Trump love is showing.

Then we back-tracked and went to Gene and Boots because crybaby Henry wanted to get ice cream since he didn’t get dessert to go at Brenda’s Family Restaurant like he claimed he was going to. Seriously, he can be such a bitch sometimes.

Yeah wow. These are things that happened on Saturday after lunch. Come back when I post the second half, which is tentatively titled “BREAKING UP AT THE CEMETERY BECAUSE OF MY PERPETUAL RESTING BITCH FACE AND HENRY’S INABILITY TO DIRECT ME INTO POSING FOR PICTURES WHERE I DON’T LOOK LIKE SLOTH FROM THE GOONIES.”

Say it don't spray it.

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