I was IN A MOOD on Saturday. You know how they say babies throw fits because they literally aren’t capable of using their words and understanding exactly what emotion they’re feeling? Tell me how I am 46 years old and still LIKE THIS.

The bottom line is, and unkindly fuck right off if you’re about to minimize my feelings, I am going through something weird following the departure of Mark from NCT. It’s not that I am some crazy-ass fan, but I am relating this to my own life and it is reminding me in a shitty way that people age out of things and need to move on. Nothing lasts forever.

Nothing.

Lasts.

Forever.

That is what I am hung up on right now, flipping through memories of the golden era in my Kpop Phase of Life. Remembering how it felt, and how happy I looked, to be at my first NCT Dream concert. Remembering how I had the all-consuming impulse to run to the nearest tattoo shop and get sprouts and YO DREAM etched on my body permanently.

It all came to a head late Saturday morning when Henry and I drove to Freeport to get some treats from Vivian’s Bakery, and then the plan was to continue to KITTANNING for some reason to go for a walk. But when we got to the bakery, I short-circuited and lost my mind  when it was time to order and ended up not getting what I wanted, blamed Henry, acted like the reigning Douchey of Cuntswold, and proceeded to derail the next 2 hours by yelling for no reason, playing mind games, and then curling up in a ball facing out the passenger side window, crying with NCT Dream on blast.

How old am I.

We ended up coming back to Pittsburgh and Henry, without a word to me prior, went to Yinz Coffee on the Northside, got me their seasonal iced cherry blossom chai and two cookies. Then we went to Uniondale Cemetery where I stormed off ahead of him and walked most of it by myself until he took a different path and stepped out from behind a tree like fucking Michael Myers, I guess to try and remind me why I got a crush on him in the first place way back in 2000.

Jesus. 26 years ago. I hate time.

So, then everything was OK. We came home and I had my afternoon feeding which helped a lot. The cookies did too.

I suggested that we go to Firewhistle Brewing in Elizabeth later that day. Initially, I was going to suggest that we do this earlier in the day and then walk the bike trail thingie that’s out that way because we haven’t walked it in a few years now. But then Henry had his KITTANNING plan –  like wtf even is in KITTANNING, I hate it there now after Saturday morning – so I let him run with that since he rarely cooks up an itinerary of his own. Anyway, he was down with this plan (like he would ever say no) and on the way there, I got an alert that the Pens game was starting.

“Oh, maybe we will actually be able to watch a hockey game for fucking once!” I cried happily, the Erin of Morn’ nothing but a ghost now.

You guys, I ALWAYS HAVE THE BEST IDEAS. This place was such a cozy local establishment. EVERYONE AT THE BAR KNEW EACH OTHER but NO ONE gave us suspicious once-overs. The bartender was down-to-earth and patient while Henry decided what he wanted. (I already knew I wanted the RED ALE – that’s my current go-to, further adding to the misconception that I am Irish.)

(I guess technically this is listed as an AMERICAN red, but whatever.)

I loved the vibe. The owner is also a firefighter and fun fact: my baby shower was actually held in the basement of the fire hall nearby. Don’t ask.

OMG this beer was really good too. It was called Ritterweisse and we heard the bartender tell someone that he’s been calling it the Kyle Rittenhouse but it wasn’t going over too well!! This was some kind of dark German beer that reminded us of the Golden Age Christmas ale we got for Xmas Eve, just without the spice. It was so good. I only just got the red ale and then “helped” Henry drink the ones he got, lol. Not the wheat beer though – I was too busy writing tongue-tip love poems on the roof of my mouth about my beloved red ale while Henry was slamming the wheat.

And we got to watch the Pens cream the Panthers 9-4! FUCK YOU TKACHUK!

I was having so much fun listening to everyone talk about the Pens (only complaint is that the game was on mute because the bartender had a playlist going) and engaging in small town small talk. Don’t get me wrong, I prefer to keep to myself here in Brookline but sometimes I do wish I was part of the community. Sort of. OK, no I don’t. I can barely stand to talk to my actual neighbors, let alone expanding the borders to….other streets. Gulp.

Granted, every so often I would think about Mark and get morose all over again, but at least I wasn’t alone.

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