Apr 222024

We’re officially home from the weekend road trip and somehow it feels like we were gone for way longer than 48 hours and also my right thumb feels like it’s injured suddenly so that’s a fun thing that I will need to investigate further.

Not much happened yesterday aside from a brief visit to Hershey Park which I guess I will recap later although not too much to report on there.

However, afterward we stopped at The Soda Jerk for dinner. We ate here a few years ago too and if I recall / I think / we all kind of liked it / etc. etc. Dinner at Soda Jerks.

I’m delirious.

Anyway, when we walked in, Henry asked me if I wanted a booth and I said yes of course duh booth of gtfo what kind of question even is that.

So then the hostess came over and he WHISPERED about wanting a booth, literally WHISPERED, and then seem shocked when she slapped down the menus at a table.

I was so annoyed and Chooch was too out of principle so then Henry started getting all defensive about how we’re perfectly capable of asking for a booth and I said, “You literally said you were going to ask! Then don’t say you’re going to ask and turn it around on us!” And it turned into a thing so he angrily shot up from the table and stormed off to find someone to ask if we could move to a booth and then they made Chooch and I even more disgusted because we hate when he acts like a tough guy who has to do everything. Like bitch please do you know how hard our roles are as “the cute pampered entitled ones of the family”?? It is annoying when we have to ask for things that should always be done automatically!!

Anyway, we got to move to a booth. Here is Henry trying to act mad still:

I tired to move his placement over to Chooch’s side but then Chooch moved it back while Henry tried to play off the fact that no one in his party desired to sit next to him.

This National Geographic tshirt was a whole ordeal. I haven’t gotten to this in my Korea recaps yet but this (and Kodak?!) are trending and the clothes etc are $$$. I couldn’t believe it?! I bought him this shirt after being worn down by his whining because it was the only thing under $100 really. Ridiculous. I was like, “Please don’t get ketchup on your shirt.”

SIDE NOTE: They don’t use Heinz at The Soda Jerk??

SECOND SIDE NOTE: This is how Chooch has looked at both Henry and me for the last…13 years probably. OK, 16.

Chooch was excited because they had blackberry lemonade, as evidenced by the white sticker stuck to the beverage section of the menu, boasting “blackberry lemonade / strawberry lemonade” in actually very neat handwriting, so props to Soda Jerk for taking pride in penmanship. This is a lost art in some eating establishments as evidenced just by walking down our very own Brookline Blvd.

But when he ordered it, our server – who displayed the exact opposite levels of attentiveness and friendliness as NAT from MONSTER VEGAN and appeared to be looking off into the distance for her boyfriend to roll up on his hog to rescue her from this GREASE PIT – came back and reported that they were OUT OF BLACKBERRY LEMONADE. Chooch, crestfallen, said, “Oh…how about the strawberry lemonade then?”

This resulted in a slight huff from this young lady who now hated us and she said, “I DON’T KNOW LET ME CHECK” and walked the whole whopping ten feet back to the counter where she hollered down to another server, “DO WE HAVE STRAWBERRY LEMONADE??” and we heard a disembodied voice call back, “Yes, and we have blackberry too!”

Chooch and I exchanged a look, and then a glass of blackberry lemonade was set down in front of him a few moments later. “I lied, we did have blackberry lemonade” and then she flitted away without also giving me my coffee, which is ALL I HAD WANTED FOR HOURS UPON HOURS as noted by all who walked near me in Hershey Park as I whined about needing coffee and how it was rendering me incapable of walking in a straight line.

Meanwhile, Henry had just returned from lala land. “What flavor is that, raspberry?” Henry asked as Chooch complained about how his lemonade didn’t even taste like blackberry. And then after Chooch said “blackberry,” Henry goes, “I thought they didn’t have blackberry?”

In unison, Chooch and I groaned our patented teenage “Oh my god.” Literally, Henry is always four chapters behind. So unaware!!

Next thing we knew, our food was here, and my coffee still was not.

She asked if she could bring us anything else, and I asked, “Could I also have coffee?” not wanting to make her feel dumb for forgetting it, you know? So instead, I’ll just….reorder it. Maybe she was having a bad day. Maybe her pet turtle died. Maybe her boyfriend was not going to show up for her on his bitchin’ hog because he dumped her the night before. My tactic in life lately is to be an anti-Karen. For instance, my neighbor was outside bitching to another neighbor about me feeding the squirrels so instead of going out there and escalating it because when I tell you that I am stressed to the point where a neighbor confrontation MIGHT cause me to have a heart attack – well, it might be a slight exaggeration but I did have chest pains earlier today, so – I went outside and said, “HI HOW ARE YOU I HAVEN’T TALKED TO YOU IN A WHILE” and then not only did this remind her that I am a human being, but we both had a chance to bitch about our shared nemesis – the landlord.

“Sorry about that, ma’am,” she said in her monotone (which also had a slight twang, curious for Pennsylvania) and slipped away to retrieve it. And then, “Sorry again, ma’am,” as she set it down in front of me.

“I hate that she keeps calling me ma’am,” I said sadly, really driving in the nail of a weekend full of reminders that I’m a fucking old ass bitch with a kid on his way to college. I hated this weekend. I mean, it was fun, but with an underlying, foreboding sense of mortality.

Dude, I will say this was a great grilled cheese though. The rye bread was pretty substantial. Not as rye-full as I would have liked but there is nothing worse than going to a restaurant and getting served a flat-AF grilled cheese on white bread that looks like two abnormally-shaped Wonder slices that were stepped on first.

“She never brought my coleslaw,” Henry muttered, probably knowing that we wouldn’t care but I had to laugh because our server was SO QUICK to solemnly point out, “Coleslaw’s gonna be extra then,” when he also asked for fries. He said that was FINE but maybe she was just trying to save him monies.

When she came back to half-assedly check on us and ask if we needed anything, Henry barked, “Coleslaw.”

Literally, just “coleslaw” nothing else, Chooch and I were dead.

“SHE HATES US SO MUCH,” he cried and Henry, with a twitch of his mustache, said, “I DON’T REALLY CARE,  I ORDERED COLE SLAW AND I WANT IT.”

Wow, calm down, Sergeant Side Dish.

Anyway, she brought him his coleslaw and then practically ran away. Chooch and I were wheezing because she had coleslaw hanging over the side of the bowl, like she just slopped it there with her bare hands. I wished she had dumped it on his head, but alas, no vinegar-y highlights were administered on this day.

I think my favorite part was when Chooch watched her set an empty pitcher under the beverage thing, hit the water button, and then walk away.

“No way is she coming back in time for that,” Chooch said, and then all three of us were transformed into water-pouring spectators. It was exciting! We were downright giddy over it. From my vantage, I couldn’t see our waitress but Chooch said she was fully out of sight, definitely not making it back in time.

It was JUST ABOUT TO SPILL OVER when the hostess came in from around the corner, started to walk past it, but then backtracked and turned it off RIGHT BEFORE IT OVERFLOWED. “Were you guys watching this?” she asked, totally busting us. Chooch and I guiltily nodded (Henry was probably still trying to figure out what we were looking at) and then she started cracking up. “Oh, this happens all the time!” she said, trying to play it off. “Good thing there’s this grate under it!”

And we were like, “Yeah, hahaha.”


Henry was in such a hurry to get out of here, but I was like, “WAIT! I need a t-shirt!” Because as you know, collecting t-shirts from stupid restaurants we eat at while on road trips is my new “magnet collection.”

“Jesus Christ,” Henry started bitching under his breath immediately when I cried, “PINK, SMALL!” and then I resumed paparazzi stance because our server was due to come bursting out of the kitchen with a plate of mistakes at any minute.

“Oh my god, you are SUCH a creep,” Chooch scoffed, but I know one day when we’re telling his kids about this at Christmas, at Trudy’s feet (that’s where I picture Future Granda Erin telling stories to her Future Grandchildren, one of whom is always a squirrel in my imagination) he’ll be happy to have photo exhibits to go along with these tales.

Also, the lady in the bandanna tunic is the one who busted us watching for a water pitcher foul.

The back of my new shirt LOLOL.

Also, I tried to get Henry and Chooch to pose for a deranged selfie in front of the diner’s mirrored facade, but they both said, “Fuck no,” and ran to the car.

There were people sitting right on the other and Henry was like, “THOSE PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO EAT, CAN YOU NOT!?”


And that’s all. Then we continued our drive home. Got in around 9PM.

Say it don't spray it.

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