I guess technically, the weekend started when I logged off work at 8:30 on Friday night, so I can start this rip-roaring’ recap with The Tow Truck Incident.

Let me back up.

Hot Naybor Chris got a new neighbor on the other side of his duplex, I guess this was over the summer, maybe? Some single guy, looks to be around my age, and evidently used to be a bartender at this super trashy bar down the street that was known for having fights culminating into someone getting chucked through a window. That bar is closed now.

Anyway, I guess HNC and this guy hate each other and they’re all passive-aggressive about it. Most of it seems to revolve around our shared driveway, WHICH HAS BEEN A SOURCE OF DRAMA EVER SINCE I MOVED INTO THIS HOUSE IN 1999, so we never park our car down there. No thanks.

But this dude actually parks in the garage, which is amazing because the garages are so narrow, I can’t even imagine. One time, his garage door was opened and he accused HNC of doing it and HNC was like, “why would I want to go in your garage, don’t flatter yourself” and I guess the guy yells a lot in his house. I personally dislike him because he comes home around midnight every day and leaves his car running in  the driveway and his dumb bass wakes me up. YES, I AM AN ELDER. I hate bass unless it belongs to something I am personally listening to. One of my hugest pet peeves is when someone else’s bass permeates my walls. BIG NOPE ON THAT, PAL.

Sometimes he parks across the street in the church parking lot, but he has purposely been double-parking in HNC and his wife’s spots, which is kind of hilarious only because it’s not happening to me. Anyway, he came home early on Friday, noted the snow on the driveway, and parked in the parking lot instead. You know, like a real scholar. But then he came home later AND PARKED IN THE GARAGE, and then later that night, when he was unable to get his car back up the driveway (it’s a hill), he CALLED A TOWTRUCK at 10:30pm instead of just shoveling it!

“That’s someone who doesn’t know how to do anything for himself,” Henry said, watching from the window. “Like you.”

Yup. This is accurate.

Anyway, yeah. Fuck this new guy. He’s a Dumb.

On Saturday, Henry had a shitload of Valentines to make and didn’t get done in time for us to walk to the post office together, but I still needed to go to the library because I’m obsessed and there was a book available that I felt the need to check-out even though I have a TBR stack already here. Chooch came with me even though I embarrass him with my book-slut ways, and then afterward, he wanted to stop in Las Palmas – the local Mexican market which also has a super trendy taco cart out front that seasoned readers of Oh Honestly Erin might remember from the days when I had a taco cart boyfriend who mysteriously was replaced over the summer, yeah, you tell me.

Anyway, Chooch was jonesin’ for some Takis (do the kids in your area love those things? They have a cult following here in Brookline for some reason, I mean, they’re good but I wouldn’t go out of my way to get them?) and to no one in particular, I mused, “HMMM DO THEY HAVE A CREDIT CARD LIMIT HERE I BET THEY DO. WE SHOULD BUY MORE SHIT JUST IN CASE” because you know, whatever makes me feel better. I bought some crap but also these things which some people in my department actually like!

So I made a sign that says, “SOME PEOPLE LIKE THESE” and that encouraged others to try it, even though they’re mostly leery of the snacks behind my desk. Here is a summary of what people think they taste like:

• animal crackers
• Nilla wafers
• lemon things
• Twix

I started imagining eating a bowl of them with milk, like cereal, LIKE COOKIE CRISP. Maybe I’ll try that. Then I’ll tell you and you’ll be like, “BOO HOO I CANNOT FIND THESE GRAGEAS BALLS NEAR ME” and I’ll be like *wicked laugh / lightning from fingertips*

You know how that happens sometimes. The lightning just shoots right out.

Saturday night, Henry did kpop cardio with me and then I started a new book.

Wow, such a Saturday.

갑자기 일요일이야.

I felt extremely sluggish all day, like SOMEONE drugged me. Literally had a tough time holding up my eyelids so then I thought I was getting sick and Henry reminded me that I have felt on the cusp of some invisible illness for months and there is allegedly nothing wrong me OR IS THERE.

But! We had a coffee date with our pals Jessy and Tommy, whom we only see about twice a year because, you know, life; so I wasn’t about to cancel on them! We went to Generoasta in Warrendale, which Henry is supposed to review on his Coffee Corner but we’ll see how long this blog-writing streak lasts – it will probably end with last week’s review, haha. He sucks. WE DON’T WANT YOUR DUMB REVIEWS ON HERE ANYWAY, STUPID HENRY.

I have always really appreciated the fact that my friends have been so amazing to Chooch, from when he was a baby to now. He’s never shunned or put in the background because he’s a kid—all of my friends have always included him in conversations, and Tommy and Jessy are no exception. It always just feels like we’re a bunch of friends bullshitting and not two couples and that one kid that tags along…or whatever. I don’t know what I’m getting at. I have an imaginary illness, remember?

Jessy found another cafe for us to try so hopefully that happens sooner rather than later!

(Side note: I had a Cupid’s Bow or something? It was white chocolate & orange latte. It was good and not too syrupy, but I didn’t taste the orange and that hurt me deeply because I love orange flavoring and it’s not very common!)

SPEAKING OF ORANGE.

We came home and I decided I want an orange for a snack. But while I was opening the orange, a corner of the peel went under my thumbnail and cut me and I was screaming, like LE HOLLERIN’. Chooch & Henry were like “who the fuck cuts themselves on an orange peel” and well, joke’s on them because this isn’t the first time this has happened to me.

None of them even tried to help me, so that’s real cool. I’m so fucking loved.

I have the day off from Korean studies, and as much as I love those weekly hangouts, I am secretly relieved that I don’t have to recite sentences over and over until my face feels like it’s splitting at the jaw. Sometimes, when it’s quiet, I hear myself saying, “여름에는,  너무 더와요. 그래서, 저는 여름을 싫어해요.” Which is a weird sentence to be thinking about in the dead of winter, with snow blanketing the ground, because it means, “In summer, it’s too hot. So, I hate summer.” When really I’m sitting over here doing witchy spells to bring summer to me but then I start thinking about climate change and I panic and then it’s like NEVERMIND, WINTER, YOU CAN STAY FOR THE ALLOTTED SEASONAL TIME, BUT NOT A SINGLE DAY MORE.

It was really nice on Monday though. Like, nearly 70 which is scary and I felt guilty for being so happy about it. But really, I wouldn’t mind the cold temps of winter so much if we could just get a fucking blue sky occasionally. I think I saw that in Pittsburgh last month, we had like 27 days of gray skies and rain. Fuck that shit.

The other day, my friend Lori was on the phone at work with a partner from Tokyo and it sounded, from my perspective, like a very joyous chat about music, and then when I heard Lori say, “Yes actually, I have heard of them, because one of the girls in our office is a super big kpop fan” so I shot my arms up and said, “That’s me” and while that was exciting in and of itself, the thing that I latched on to the hardest was that she referred dumb old 40-year-old me as “a girl” and not “some broad” or, you know, “lady.” Woo! Forever a girl!

I very rarely have pleasant phone calls with partners at work. Practice assistants are fine, I’ll talk to them like they’re one of the postal clerks I have moderate relationships with, but partners usually make my insides curl up and pour cement over whatever semblance of a personality I have left in this crap head of mine. In fact, I had one phone call last week that was so painful, I was actually shocked afterward to see on my phone log that the call was only 4.5 minutes long when I’m pretty sure it was actually an hour. So many painfully uncomfortable silences too. And he kept saying, “Ohhhhhkay” with subtle “you are a real stoop” undertones to them and I wanted to fucking flee the scene.

Speaking of personality and the postal clerks, I had to mail some orders the other day at work (Henry has been very diligent about mailing them for me lately so that I don’t have to lug bags stuffed with Valentines to work everyday, thanks Henry). There was a new, young woman clerk at the one post office, and I have never seen her before and judging by her extremely pleasant disposition, this must mean she’s a fresh one. Anyway, while I was at the counter, she said, “Oh, I love your necklace!” It was my oversized wooden sarcastic Conversation Hearts necklace, which I do have to agree is a very cool necklace, so I cheerfully thanked her as if the necklace was my own creation. Then she noticed my cactus phone case. “Oh, and I love your phone case too!” I laughed and said, “Yes, I do too!” because obviously I do, I bought it, after all. My people-skills, man.

Then, as I was taking my receipt from her, she squealed, “AND YOUR JACKET!” It was my cowprint jacket. “I can tell you have an AWESOME PERSONALITY!” and all I could do was giggle shyly and said, “I try.”

EXCEPT THAT I DON’T TRY. Literally, my personality, what’s left of it, hangs off my shoulders in soiled shreds these days. It’s all mangled and beaten and DON’T TALK TO ME.

Man, 20 years ago, though. My personality was FIRE 20 years ago.

I worked from home yesterday, and Chooch happened to have a snow day. I heard him call Henry at one point and ask when he was expected to come home. “Because she doesn’t want to make her own lunch. No, I’m not making lunch for her.” WOW. But yeah, that’s me. Non-cookin’ mom. Cook on, just don’t expect me to join.

Look. Drew’s friend saved her a seat. Drew has such nice friends. What a nice friend, you have, Drew.

I realized today that when I went to the library, that it was the first time I had left the house since Wednesday. I could never work from home every day. I would be ruined. My cats would start to hate me. What’s left of personality would petrify.

I really don’t have anything else earth-shattering to report. Our busy card-making season should be starting to wind down now since Valentine’s Day is less than a week away at this point. I’ll be happy to have a clean dining room table again and to not stress-fight with Henry over shipping labels and whatnot. I let him watch videos from one of the recent SuperM concerts the other night while we were packaging orders and he seemed very content. I always catch him smiling whenever Taemin is talking. It’s OK, Henry. You can admit it.

In other serial killer card news (actually though, the Golden Girls Valentines may have outsold the killer ones this year!), GG Allin’s brother came back and bought more cards off me, so I can now officially say that GG Allin’s brother is a return customer and that kind of makes me a little bit giddy.

Other than that, I have been severely depressed over this whole impeachment fail, the coronavirus, the wildfires, the world in general. Deciding to bury myself in books again was pretty much the best thing I could have done for myself. I’ll just be over here, blissfully unaware of the news from now on.

Cook on, mothercheffers. Cook the fuck on. I’m dun dun. So dun dun dun dun dun dun dun…

P.S. I just realized I haven’t eaten lunch yet and dumb Henry isn’t here,어떻게………………..:( Same boat as yesterday!! OMG I JUST RHYMED IN KOREAN AND ENGLISH, I’M A GENIUS.

The other night, I tried to start a fight with Henry because we’re not precious like Robert and Mary, but he didn’t take the bait. Anyway, I hadn’t listened to this song IN A MINUTE and the feels came crashing into me like the waves that Henry will never frolic in with me because he’s Henry and he doesn’t frolic or much of anything relationshippy, for that matter.

I never actually wrote about my experience meeting The Cure in Australia back in 2000, and I’ve been considering possibly transcribing my vacation journal entries from that trip on here, which I’m sure wouldn’t be embarrassing and a shit-covered cringefest AT ALL considering I was 20 and a million times more annoying than I am today at 40 and I am still pretty fucking annoying, so chew on that fat for a minute and get back to me.

I also have actual video footage of when I met them but it’s on an 8mm and I need to get that digitized at some point so I can blast social media with the excruciating 2 minutes of me stuttering and stammering in King Robert Smith’s face. It was…really something. Definitely not something that kept me up at night.

It’s weird to think that I was in a country that far away, pre-smartphone age, for a full week, and managed to come back alive when, at the age of 40, I can barely go to the store by myself.

People who know this version of me usually think I’m fucking with them when I’m like, “This one time, in goth-rock band camp…

”

(I actually had a weird moment in a taxi though on the way to the Canberra airport, where I 100% thought I was about to get raped, and I am not even exaggerating a little bit. That was a strange time.)

Well, if you’d be interested in reading something like (not an almost-taxi rape, but The Cure thing), then perhaps that will happen soon because I am in the mood for getting nostalgic, y’all. I get like this sometimes.

I realized today that the picture I’ve been using as my desktop background at work for the last few months now is a picture from Starfield Library at the Coex Mall in Seoul. It’s giving me inspiration to stay committed to my reading challenge, and also making me REALLY want to go back to Korea super soon ugh.

Now that I’m into my second month of the challenge, I wanted to report back with some significant findings, such as the fact that my idle social media perusing is WAY DOWN. Don’t ask me if I watched your Story because I probably haven’t!

I’m also watching way less pointless YOUTUBE videos*, which was always my go-to after work routine while Henry is making my dinner haha. Now, I either walk to the library to pick up new requests that are waiting for me, or I stay home and read a chapter or two. I feel like the old me again!

*(except that now when I AM on YouTube, I’m watching “booktubers” – what kind of bizarre realm have I fallen into? Henry hates this new literary side of YouTube sooooo much, which makes me like it even more haha. Also, they tell me what to read so I don’t accidentally pick up garbage like I did over the summer when I needed a book for the plane and I grabbed Baby Teeth. Such a shitty book.)

I still have time set aside for Exercise every night so basically I just cut out all the dumb shit and filled those newly-empty time slots with book-reading and I already feel like my brain is making a comeback (whether that is reflected in my blogging remains to be seen though, ha).

So basically, this has been a big lesson in time management for me. I can’t tell you how much nervous energy I have been harboring these last few months, a culmination of stress and needing a new outlet I guess. Telling myself to stop saying “I don’t have time for that” and allowing myself quiet time to sit and read (Erin, it’s ok to sit down and relax!) has done wonders for my anxiety. (I mean, I’m still a spaz and can barely handle the most base human interactions but I’m…trying?)

I’m about to start my fourth book for February and I’m really excited! It feels like a game and I am scoring so many points! Woo.

Also, it annoys Chooch because I’m a fast reader and he hates when I can do anything better/faster than him so this has been such a big win in so many ways. Thank you, fake New Years Resolutions and Goodreads. You are making me a better and more competitive person. Erin rulz!!

What? I’m not manic. You’re manic.

My weekend was pretty catastic, if we’re being super honest. The only thing separating me from a full-blown Cat Lady lifestyle is the fact that I don’t live alone and can’t knit.

Friday after work, I think Henry seriously considered leaving me, and at one point, he did run away to his ever-ready refuge, The Store. (Kuhn’s, Giant Eagle, Aldi, one of the Asian markets – the man loves his grocery store quiet time.)

[RELATED SIDE NOTE TO HENRY’S DOMESTICITY: My work friend Margie was just helping me MacGyver one of my bracelets with a paper clip because the elastic band has become too slack over the years. “Do you know how to sew?” she asked, and then quickly recovered by saying, “What I mean is, does Henry know how to sew?” Good save, Margie!]

I don’t know what started it but I invented this entire hyper-scenario, not in my head, but out loud for Henry to also enjoy, where my cats, Drew and Penelope, are entering the convent to be nuns. First, Henry scowled at me from his post at Card-Making Central, and then eventually just entirely left the house in exasperation after I yelled at Drew for calling one of her toy mice a “motherfucker” because there’s no swearing in the convent, God will strike you down, Drew. Yes, Drew, he’s the one who watches you from the cloud. No, Drew, that’s Ho-Ho*. I’m talking about GOD.

*(That’s what my cats call Santa.)

Then I changed their names to Sister Agnes Drew and Sister Mary Peen and later that night, while Henry was trying to sleep, I gently laid a white dishtowel on Penelope’s head so it looked like she was wearing whatever nun’s wear and then I was shaking the bed from all the laughing and Henry whispered, “Plz get help.”

I don’t know if he really whispered that. But probably. I worked from home on Thursday and Friday so that gave me A LOT of special time with the cats and excuse me if they’re my best friends and the only ones I CAN REALLY TALK TO, HENRY.

SATURDAY CAME.

We walked to the post office with our bundle of Valentines and  then I went to the library to pick up the two books that were waiting for me because playing Library is my new favorite game ever. Henry was like, “What are books” and then we went to the bakery to get cookies to eat on the walk home because that’s how exciting we are. 

Later, I met Jiyong at Panera for Korean Time. I don’t mind Panera generally but the last several times, it’s been a real Yinzer circus which, I know may seem shocking, but is not conducive to the learning process. At least for me, anyway. It was the equivalent of trying to catch babies while reciting back sentences in Korean by memory.

As mentioned above, Jiyong does this new thing where she takes my book from me and makes me recite, from memory, the little story I just translated for that session. Now, this would be difficult for me to do in my mother tongue (not sure what that is, actually, and sometimes it does not seem to be english!) because my memory is not what it used to be, and now she wants me to do this in a language that I barely know. Cool, let’s do it. I love suffering in a Panera. 

Halfway through our study session, a Russian boxer arrived and took a seat at the table behind Jiyong. I know what you’re thinking, ‘wow, stereotype much, OHE?’. But look:

• he had what sounded like a russian accent;
• his face appeared squashed, like it’s been punched a lot over the years;
• he was wearing a gray sweatshirt over a gray hoodie and gray sweatpants;
• he was loud.

Russian boxer. Case closed. 

How was he loud, you ask? Because he saw someone he knew over yonder hills of sweeteners and coffee stirrers and he called out to this person in what sounded like a drunken bark, death bed cough, MAGA bray, and then that person came over to engage in a bro-hug next to our table and they spoke to each other in staccato grunts and Jiyong was coaxing me to start the next sentence and I’m like, “How is this not distracting you?!” and then Vladimir Knockoutkov sat back down behind Jiyong and proceeded to eat his Panera meal with the smackiest lips this side of the Kremlin. 

I could hear every single bite, every millisecond of mastication, every tongue-swipe of the lips. Oh Sister Mary Peen, I can fucking hear it right now in my head as I relive this tragic weekend moment. I am haunted. 

He, along with the family of 4 behind him who consistently dropped silverware on the floor and paced to and fro from the garbage can behind me back to their table, eventually left, but then there was this group of men having a meeting in the special, closed-door conference room thing next to us which was FINE, dandy even, until they began to emerge in pairs and sitting at a table next to us at which point interviews were conducted. 

I felt like I was on Silent Library. It was the worst and I kept whining to Jiyong about how I would be doing so much better if all these stoops weren’t distracting me and she gave me a polite, “Yeah sure” nod.

Ugggghhh.

Came home. Ate dinner. Went to Kohl’s. Wow, life is exciting in the winter. 

Oh! But Saturday night was super…crunk? Lit? I dunno what word we’re using these days. I would say “daebak” if I actually had the confidence to speak the Korean I know, haha. Ugh. Anyway, I wanted to read one of the new books I scored from the library so I put on something for background noise that wouldn’t distract me. I chose this YouTube channel called Cream Heroes, which is so cute – it’s this lady in Korea who has 7 cats and is always, you know, doing cat things with them. After a while, I happened to glance over to my left and I noticed that Sister Agnes Drew was sitting on the wheelchair, intently watching these videos. Now, I have played these a lot in the past but she, as to my knowledge, has never given a single shit about it. But on this evening, she was enrapt. 

HERE LOOK:

View this post on Instagram

Bad quality, but I had to zoom in on her because that oaf otherwise known as Henry was sitting between us and totally in the way. I mean, she was into it for a good long while, I couldn’t believe it! I’ve put on cat-specific videos (fish, birds, etc) for both of them before and they haven’t cared. Maybe it’s the lady’s voice she likes too? She will probably learn Korean faster than me at this point. Sigh.

THEN IT WAS SUNDAY.

I let Henry choose which cafe to go to for Sunday Coffee, or whatever it is I’ve been calling it. Henry really seems to have taken a liking to cold brew so maybe cafe-hangs will actually be a consistent part of our routine!? Anyway, I had him review Steel Valley Roasters and you can read that here but true to form, it doesn’t say much.

We went to Many More Asian Market afterward and I was happy there.

I love that place.

I started a new book on Sunday – this one was about a possession which got me reminiscing about the time in high school when I desperately wanted to become possessed and I was actually very close to straight up devil worship for a brief period (oh, Erin and her phases) and I casually asked Henry if he ever wanted to be possessed too and the way he said NO, it was like it’s weird for someone to want to be possessed?!

 Meanwhile, Sister Mary Peen suddenly became interested in Cream Heroes too!

She eventually jumped up there and started swatting at the screen, so I guess she hates them. 

In the afternoon, Janna came over and we walked down the street to the Hollywood Theater, where we finally saw Jojo Rabbit! I feel bad because Janna texted me way back in August or September and was like WILL YOU GO SEE THIS WITH ME WHEN IT COMES OUT and I was like YES and then it came out in October and we never went because you really have to twist my arm  to get me to go to the theater, I’m such a weirdo about it.

• it’s convenient (a 5-minute walk from my house!)
• it’s an old-school, historic one-screen theater with a balcony
  • I always sit in the balcony

So I asked Janna if she wanted to go and of course she said yes and it turns out Henry was telling me it was playing because he wanted to go see it with me but then I invited someone else and instead of just going with us anyway, he stayed home and pouted.

It’s fine. He had a lot of Valentines to make.

Anyway, I knew only the bare minimum about this movie, but Janna and I both loved What We Do In the Shadows and it’s the same guy etc etc Hitler, blah blah blah. So I expected it to be funny, and I expected to be slightly uncomfortable while laughing at the funny parts, but I didn’t realize it was going to slug me across the face like an emotional sledgehammer, holy fucking shit, I felt many feelings during this movie and I ugly-cried numerous times to the point where my body was shaking and I had to sit in the dark while the credits ran to make sure I was completely done crying before we could leave. 

Fantastic movie and for as much as I fucking LOVED Parasite, I think that maybe, possibly Jojo Rabbit was the better film THERE I SAID IT I’M SORRY KOREA I STILL LOVE YOU MOST.

Chooch was supposed to go see it with us and it’s extremely relevant to his interests (he is very into learning about Hitler not because he’s a neo-Nazi thank you but because he’s a budding history buff and was excited because he recently got to give a presentation at school about Hitler where he was able to say ‘syphilis’ and ‘prostitute’) but then he ditched us to go over some kid’s house TO PLAY FOOTBALL AND WATCH THE SUPERBOWL WHO IS THIS KID? I am so disappointed in him. I told Todd the next day at work that Chooch likes football now and Todd was like, “YESSSS! IT HAPPENED! THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER!” 

Negative!

After the movie, I came home to the greeting card sweatshop and provided marginal assistance while paying more attention to the cats than a well-functioned human being probably should, but that’s OK BECAUSE THEY ARE MY BEST FRIENDS. 

And that’s what happened over the weekend. 

As the owner of Oh Honestly Erin, I have made the executive decision that Henry will be reviewing on here each cafe we visit in his quest to acquire a taste for The Coffee. I thought it would be interesting to see each place through his Old Man Ex-Service Person eyes, because whereas I judge a cafe by its seasonal latte flavors and Instgrammability, his criteria is probably a bit different.

Originally I was going to ask him questions about life or whatever but we’ve done that before and his answers are boring and also I didn’t feel like thinking of questions haha. So to kickoff this series (which will probs die off just as quick as it started), here is Henry to tell you about his experience at Steel Valley Roasters!

LOCATION: Steel City Roasters, Homestead

COFFEE: Cold brew w/Almond milk (Barista gave me soy milk instead, not an issue)

BARISTA: Friendly and quick, gave me soy instead of almond milk, offered free refill for it, or they give free refills on cold brew, not sure.

COMFORT: I’m guessing if you go when yoga class is not letting out it would be quieter, and don’t sit on the long church pew , it moves with whoever is sitting on it.

CLIENTELE: not many people, it was a Sunday early, so it was a few people and the yogi’s. One with a bar voice more than a coffee shop voice.

AESTHETICS, on a scale from truck stop diner to gimmicky LA Instagram Trend Cafe: I would go back, only this time I would not get the subpar danish from the bakery down the street, I’ve had goods from that particular bakery before, not great! So I would put it the middle of the scale.

FINAL WORDS: For me it comes down to service if I go back to a place, and this place had good service, the barista was friendly and quick, one small mistake, taken care of quickly. The bake goods, yeah nothing special, made down the street. Should have stayed down the street! I would go back, not right away though, I have many places to go first.

***

ERIN’S NOTE BECAUSE THIS IS ERIN’S BLOG: Henry failed to mention that this place is connected to a yoga studio. Thankfully, we got there right before class let out so there was no line, but then we had to sit there and drink our coffee while all the dumb yogi yuppies came out and loudly congregated. One of them had a voice that was so loud and grating that I was like, “WE NEED TO DRINK FASTER, I CAN’T TAKE THIS BROAD ANYMORE” and Henry ended up getting the rest of his cold brew to-go before I could cause a scene. I brought a book with me in hopes that I could power through a chapter or two since Henry never has anything worthwhile to talk about, but those dumb broads were so freaking loud, and one of them had a screaming toddler and husband waiting for her, that it was impossible to block out.

My latte was good, though. I didn’t like the seasonal options so I went with just a plain soy latte, which I usually end up enjoying better anyway. I let Henry taste it. He still doesn’t like hot coffee, I guess.

And apparently, sometimes this one bakery I like, Jak’s, supplies this joint with baked goods but sadly, today’s offerings were from Blue Bonnet whatever that fuck is, but I guess Henry has been there before because he makes a career of eating baked goods. Anyway, it sure is fun dragging Henry to cafes! WHERE WILL WE GO NEXT SUNDAY, HOO BOY, CAN’T WAIT.

I decided to re-activate my old Goodreads account in the beginning of January and start a 2020 Reading challenge in order to keep myself inspired and motivated to become a regular reader again. If I’m one thing, it’s super fucking competitive with myself, so this has been going swimmingly and I’m already a third of the way into my 30 book goal. It’s amazing how much time we actually do have when we put down the phones, turn off the Roku, etc etc.

As of January 31st, I managed to absorb 10 books. Granted, one was only like 90 pages,  (the first one on the list, I needed to ease myself into this!), but even nine books is pretty good for my first month back into the game, I think. One of my co-workers has also challenged herself so I got her to sign up on Goodreads and now we’re book-friends, so that has also been extremely helpful.

Also, I was excited to use the Haechan (from NCT127!) bookmark that my friend Veronica sent me, and true to Erin fashion, I lost it somewhere books 6 and 7, ugh.

So, let’s just jump right in. I’m no good with book synopses so I’ll get hyperlink each book title with its Goodreads page, ya hear?

1. The Strange Library – Haruki Murakami

I felt that this book would be a good start for my challenge because it’s an author I’ve been interested in reading but it’s also SUPER SHORT (like 90 pages I think? If even?) so it would give me a taste of what his writing style is like plus help me power through this years-long reading slump I’ve been in.

I…don’t really have much to say about it. I finished it the same night I got it out of the library (with my new card, look at me growing up!) and I liked the interesting design of the book itself, and the illustrations were fantastic. It was just plain old good. A good, short story.

2. Mrs. Everything – Jennifer Weiner

This book was at its core a story about the relationship between two very different sisters growing up in the 1950s to present day. Both sisters were really well-written and anytime something bad happened to one of them, it felt like a personal affront. I really enjoyed the section of the book where it was the 1970s, and I will tell you now that I ugly-cried at the end. I get attached, OK?

I like Jennifer Weiner’s writing style. It flows, it’s easy to get hooked, it doesn’t drag. It was a good choice for where I am currently, in my head.

3. The Vegetarian – Han Kang

Ok this book is what made me decide to start using my eyeballs for intellectual things instead of YouTube videos of annoying couples traveling, rollercoaster reviews, or Koreans eating ramen. It’s #3 on the list though because I had to REQUEST IT on the LIBRARY’S WEBSITE! It was my first book request! Super exciting! Chooch wasn’t as enthused though when he was forced to accompany me to the library (“Go help her,” Henry said to him after work that day) to show me how to pick up my books haha.

Anyway, this was WEIRD. It’s broken up into three sections, each one from a different person’s perspective re: the title character’s journey into becoming a vegetarian and the effect it has not only on her but those around her because vegetarianism, while its becoming more accepted, is NOT a very popular lifestyle in Korea. Hello, Koreans fucking love their meat and meals can be very sacred and meaningful experiences for Korean families, so having a family member suddenly declare they no longer eat meat is a huge bombshell.

This book is actually considered horror I think, and it definitely felt like I was watching a Korean horror movie, which can be sooooo subtle in their creepiness yet leaving you feeling filthy afterward. That was how this was. I’m not sure I completely understood it, but it will certainly stick with me.

4. Nocturnes – Kazuo Ishiguro

This was a super fast & enjoyable read. It was recommended by this American ex-pat in Korea who I subscribe to on YouTube, and actually, it was her channel that inspired me to get back into the habit of reading after watching her “favorite Korean authors” video.

I’m not sure these stories are the kinda that will really stick with me, but the writing was very pleasant and I didn’t find myself losing interest at all, which is something that happens often because I’m basically a four-year-old in the body of a 40-year-old and am always ready to start moving again. Sitting still, ew!

5. Simon vs. The Home Sapiens Agenda – Becky Albertalli

I have no shame in loving YA books. Sometimes I need something light and high school-y you know? I didn’t see the movie that was based on this book, nor did I know anything about it, so I pretty much went into this blind.

For the millionth time in my life, I felt so fucking thankful that social media, cellphones, the Internet’s prevalence, were not things I had to worry about when I was in school. Kids already found a myriad of creative ways to be fucking assholes to each other without the aid of technology. And that’s a big part of what this book is about: it’s a teenager’s coming out story. I loved the characters and apparently it’s book #1 of a series, so I will probably keep reading because I am always down for a good series.

6. Snap – Belinda Bauer

OK, I started out unsure of this one, like maybe I was going to give up early on, but then it reached a point in the story where everything clicked for me and suddenly I couldn’t put it down. It is a GREAT mystery/thriller and I fell in love with the cops and the teenaged protagonist, Jack. I think I’m going to go ahead and say that this my second favorite book I read this month. I kept trying to secretly read it on my lap at work in between doing actual work-things because I was obsessed.

7. Frankly In Love – David Yoon

Obviously I chose this book because not only is it written by a Korean American, but the entire story is based on the main characters parents and their unwavering policy of “must only date other Koreans.” It was interesting to me because there is a lot of Korean culture touched upon in this book, all of which I already knew so I just smiled all smug-like while reading the explanations, like how one of the dads calls the other dad his “hoobae” because when they were classmates, the friend was a grade below him.

There were parts that were straight too written in Korean too so I got to try out my translating skills and they were…a’ight. Lol. But a big theme of the book is how the Korean American kids in this group really don’t know much about their heritage, they can’t speak the language, they’re basically just…American. It made me think a lot about that, because we all came from somewhere, but for instance, my family didn’t continue speaking, I don’t know, Slovakian (is that even a language??) even though that’s what my great-grandmother spoke when she emigrated here.

But also, this is a love story and pretty predictable, but I thought it was overall a very cute and enjoyable read. I think this is also going to be a series so sign me up, I need more of Joy.

8. Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine – Gail Honeyman

GURL. THIS BOOK.

FAVORITE SO FAR.

It started out “eh…” for me, I didn’t know much about it going in and it just kind of…starts. And I didn’t like Eleanor AT ALL in the beginning because I kept picturing this dumb bitch that I used to be friends with (no, not my ex-BFF, this was just some acquaintance that I couldn’t shake for years until she finally tweeted a bunch of racist shit during the last Winter Olympics and I was like, “YEAH, YA BLOCKED, BITCH”). But, then Eleanor turned into this fucking endearing flesh-gem for me and her co-worker/friend Raymond was a breath of fresh air. I loved how literal Eleanor is, the dialogue was fantastic, and the storyline was just *ITALIAN FINGER-KISSING EMOJI*. I immediately texted Janna when I finished it and told her to read it. This was the only book from January that I flat-out highly recommend to one and all. Go read this. It’s great. I laughed. I cried. I cringed. I want more Eleanor. Give us more Eleanor, Gail Honeyman.

9. Permanent Record – Mary H.K. Choi

I read another Mary H.K. Choi book last fall and I liked it–I mean, it was a good book to read during a road trip. I can’t remember which road trip I brought it on, but I pretty much finished it in two car-sittings. This one was also a super fast read, but it wasn’t really…I don’t know, meaningful? Basically, this college drop-out works night shifts at a health food/bodega in NYC and has a chance encounter with this really cool, pretty girl and they get all flirty over snacks and then he realizes that she’s some ultra-famous Disney actress/singer and then some crazy secret, whirlwind romance happens and it’s just kind of this meandering book that is entertaining but…it doesn’t really have substance and it’s just kind of all over the place and then eventually you get to a point where you realize the main character is kind of an asshole, but don’t worry, he realizes it too…?

Little bit of Korean stuff in here because the main character is half-Korean and there is a quick visit to Seoul at one point but it wasn’t enough for me. This is written with majorly casual slang-speak and it kind of gets grating but then, it’s centered around a bunch of 20-year-olds in NYC, so I guess it’s pretty accurate. But it made me feel old because there were times when I like, “The fuck does THAT mean.” But I have too much pride to invite my 13-year-old son to slang-splain, thank you very much.

10. The 7 1/2 Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle – Stuart Turton

I didn’t like this book that much. It’s kind of a bummer because this is the one that I ended the month with and it was a tough one to get through. I picked it up because I had seen some good reviews for it on Goodreads, and I thougt it sounded like something I would like, but it was dry. D-R-Y. I kept forcing myself to pick it up because I wanted to finish it but this is NOT the kind of book that you can fly through. I’m a pretty fast reader, but I had to make myself slow it down because there are so many details, confusing timelines, a bunch of characters with similar names making it hard to keep track of them….I struggled. I only just finished it today and kind of just feel numb and ambivalent about it.

It’s like a hybrid of Clue and Groundhog Day, which is how I saw it billed in a review and that seemed very appealing to me. But it’s just…kind of boring until very near the end, and even though there is a twist that I couldn’t have predicted, I didn’t feel satisfied.

Of course, I’m now up to my neck in the Literary YouTubers scene, so I watched several reviews of this book after I finished it and was relieved that A LOT of avid readers out there had the same opinion as me, so I’m not broken, dumb, and/or illiterate after all.

****

The library had some books ready for me to pick up today, so I’m starting February with “The Saturday Night Ghost Club” by Craig Davidson and “A Head Full of Ghosts” by Paul Tremblay, because I’m ready to get back to my horror roots, you guys. This was my genre of choice when I used to read regularly and I’m ready to crack my knuckles and some…book spines, I guess. See you at the end of February with another book round-up! Feel free to let me what books you read for January that you really loved, hated, or just thought were whatever.

Don’t get any papercuts, ya booksluts! (That’s my official book blog post sign-off. DON’T STEAL IT.)

These bulletpoints are brought to you by: lack of sleep, Fran Drescher’s bray, and the Korean letter ㅊ which always reminds me of those weird twig-person things from The Blair Witch Project which, coincidentally, I made a bunch of several years ago when I decorated my co-worker Mitch’s office with a “Blair Mitch” theme for Halloween and several of my work friends kept the twig-things as a souvenir of my Halloween Reign of Terror so I see them every day.

(See also: this blog post.)

• On Monday, Blake texted Henry and told him that the coroners were on our street, pulling a body out of a house. Chooch didn’t have school that day so I started bombarding him with texts because I was freaking out, man. He was about as interested as you’d imagine a 13-year-old with a brand new iPhone 11 and Nintendo Switch might be. He sent me a picture of the forensics truck in the neighbor’s driveway and left it at that. All Henry and I could figure was that it was the house next to Hot Naybor Chris’s, where Chooch’s buddy lives with his grandparents, but there are two other units in  that house, so an older woman also lives there, and this mysterious girl who looks like she could be in her mid-20s or 40s, because, well, drugs. We also have suspicion that she was providing various, you know, services. Just last week, the first responders were there but it didn’t seem like anything major happened so we stopped peeking out of the window and WOW I AM BASICALLY JUST LIKE MY AUNT SHARON AT THIS POINT IN MY LIFE. Anyway, I begged Henry to text Hot Naybor Chris, who immediately called him and knew nothing because he hadn’t been home all day, so he said never fear, he’d send his wife to question one of the residents (provided she wasn’t already busy yelling at people for taking her parking spot.) She reported back the next day that it was the girl, and she OD’d. FUCKING DRUGS. I am so pissed off about this. It’s extremely disconcerting knowing that someone died in that way only two houses up from us, and yet life goes on. So fucked up. I didn’t know her, and only saw her several times over the summer when she would run across the street in see-thru dresses and jump into the car of whatever John was there to pick her up that evening, but it makes me feel super depressed.
  • Speaking of sadness and depression, I’ve definitely got it because I spent a good 90 minutes on Sunday crying violently over the death of Kobe Bryant, and you need to know that I was not a fan of his, and basically ambivalent toward him in general, but the news alert rocked me in a way that I cannot explain which is how I know that my heart and brain were looking for a reason to cry it out. Sometimes you just gotta cry.
• The one thing I was looking forward to all weekend was Cafe Day with Chooch and Henry, and Henry even said I could interrogate him for a Henry’s Coffee Klatch-type of blog post, but then the combination of my heightened sensitivity (see above bullet) and Chooch’s teenage mean streak made me have an emotional break down while waiting for our coffee at Reginald’s, which was really Sad Times because that place was cute, the seasonal latte choices were unique (I got the winter spice, which had ginger, cinnamon, orange zest and “more,” whatever that means, but it was fucking delicious and not overly sweet or syrupy), and my friend Chris’s honey was available there! Oh well, maybe we’ll go for a do-over sometime soon and leave Mean Chooch at home.

• Speaking of coffee though, the day before, I had my weekly meeting with Jiyong at Panera. Henry drove me there because we needed to go shopping in that area afterward and you know, One Car Family. But now that he’s on the precipice of coffee addiction, he decided to come in with me and get a cold brew. I think Jiyong initially thought he was going to stay there the whole time and maybe she was contemplating charging for Korean lessons now that it was turning into more of a classroom, but I was like, “NO HE IS NOT STAYING, EW!” because no way. While Henry and I were standing in line to order, I noticed that there was some type of friendly exchange going on with the guy who was ordering, the cashier, and the people in front of us, but I couldn’t figure out what was happening and Henry is deaf and oblivious and also  too distracted looking at the pastries, so he was no help in my investigation. Anyway, after we placed our order, we found out what the commotion was: some dude left his change with the cashier to pay it forward, and apparently the people in front of us decided to pass it on to us and HENRY ACCEPTED IT which I think he should not have because we didn’t NEED to use it and I very quickly became overcome with guilt and dwelled upon it for the remainder of the day.
• Guys! Suddenly, I like basketball:

I’m so excited that G-Dragon’s in America right now!!! I had a dream two nights ago that he was my boyfriend and it was the sweetest, most pure dream ever and I was in such a great mood the whole next day. Apparently, they even played his song “Superstar” during the game and he was cutely embarrassed I LOVE HIM SO MUCH.

• We’re in the thick of our “busy season” for serial killer Valentines, so I told Henry I would make my own dinner in order to keep him chained to his work station, making cards. But “making dinner” started with me turning on the kettle to heat water for some instant noodle cup thing and then whining because it looked unsatisfying so Henry was like, “put an egg in it” and I was like, “OK you do that” and then I exchanged places with him and now he’s in the kitchen enhancing my bland Whole Foods instant pad thai thing OK never mind he just brought it out to me and he somehow managed to make it worse, so cereal it is.

In other news, I have been very diligent with reading since I set my goal at the beginning of the month! Since tomorrow is the last day of January, I think I will do a quick recap of the books I read this month. Speaking of, I AM GOING TO GO AND READ MORE OF MY LAST BOOK FOR JANUARY!

This won’t be as good as a Sophia Petrillo Sicily Story, but….PICTURE IT: Brookline, 2002. Henry and I were still in the beginning stages of Dating, but I knew that I wanted him to move in with me. And that says a lot because I had been a solo-liver from the time I moved out of my parents’ house until then. So, basically like 3 years. Wow, such independence. I never asked any other boys to move in with me, and I barely even liked it when they stayed too long the next morning.

When I decided that I was going to ask the dumb oaf to move in, I did the right thing and talked to my landlord first. Now, back then, my landlord was the sweetest guy: super old, hearing aids in both ears, very approachable. (His son took over after he died and now we’re basically living in a slum even though Henry says I’m being dramatic but that is another story.) So my landlord sat me down in his office and actually talked to me like he was a parent, asking things like if I was sure this was the right guy, does he treat me well, etc. It was fucking adorable.

And of course I said yes but hello the bigger picture was that this dude could cook and do housework-y things, so yes, please move in, share my bills, feed me, stop me from vacuuming liquid out of the refrigerator (um, another story for yet another day). So now that I had the landlord’s blessing to add the dumb oaf to the lease, I went to the HARDWARE STORE – can you imagine me in a hardware store? And it wasn’t some big box one like Home Depot, either. It was this small-ass family-run joint that my dad always went to, called DANIEL’S HARDWARE, the kind of place where you have to turn sideways to walk down some of the aisles because the shelves are spaced stupidly. Anyway, I went to DANIEL’S to get a copy of my key made. Some dude did it for me, and I was like, “Wow, that was easy” and it was only like $2 or something, so that was something new that I learned that day.

Then, on Valentine’s Day, Henry came over and was all KISSY WISSY because this back when he was still trying to impress me and hoping that I would find his all of his baggage cute and charming, which would have been easier if the baggage was goldfish and not two kids, but I digress. Now, imagine the hearts boinnnnnnng’ing out of his eyeballs when he opens the pretty velvet ring box I’ve presented to him* and finds…

Nothing.

Because I forgot to put the fucking house key inside.

*(This is, hilariously, the only time a ring box was ever presented to someone in this house, NAH I’M NOT BITTER OR NUTHIN’ said Little Miss Unwed with a butcher knife behind her back.)

So, this key was a lemon. It was a real rough cut, and only Henry knew the “trick” to turning it successfully within the lock. But Henry never complained about it and has been using it without issue all this time.

Somewhere along the line, Chooch became grown enough to need his own key. This time, my key birthed a nice, competent copy. I think we had it made at Home Depot and I have a vague recollection of Chooch being all smug because he got to choose some novelty key design so his was “better” than ours.

Then, he lost it.

And found it.

And lost it.

Got a new one made.

Lost it.

In a pinch once day, I lent him my key, the golden master key, the OG key, the ride or die key.

AND THAT LITTLE SHIT LOST IT. LIKE, LOST IT LOST IT.

So now, Henry has to have a new key made using HIS degenerate mongoloid key so now we have two fucking aggravating piece of shit keys. One time, I had to use Chooch’s spare because I knew no one was going to be home when I came home from work, and, well….

Bad Key Killing Spree

One time, Janna was babysitting Chooch and they had Henry’s key and couldn’t get in the house so she had to go next door and get Hot Naybor Chris to help. I know what you’re thinking: “OK, fine, but that’s Janna. She’s nearly as bad as you, Erin.” BUT WAIT—-

A few weeks ago, I took the day off work while Chooch was home on Christmas break, and we went to the trampoline park, Taco Bell, and Crazy Mocha without a hitch. Can you imagine?! Until, that is, until we came home. We had Henry’s house key that day and of course, we couldn’t get in the house. I swear to god, I’m always waiting for this fucker to slice my hand and hit an artery and then someone’s going to find me unconscious in a pool of blood on the front porch and think, “Wow, I didn’t realize she hated her life that much” and I DO NOT WANT TO BE REMEMBERED AS THE GIRL WHO TRIED TO SLIT HER WRIST WITH A KEY AND MISSED.

That got dark but I don’t care! The street lights have been burnt out in my head for quite some time now.

OK back to the door. Thank god on this day, Blake was home so Chooch went over and was like, “Help us open our door” and Blake immediately cringed because he was on cat duty for us the first time we went to Korea and wanted to fucking kick down the door because Henry’s key pissed him off so much and I think he was really trying to hold himself back on this day because I was standing there but he was definitely lowkey raging and kept muttering things like, “WTF IS THE DEAL WITH THIS FUCKING KEY. OMG I FORGOT HOW MUCH I HATE THIS FUCKING KEY.” And then he did some breathing exercises and some arm-crosses, cracked his knuckles, and said to me, “There’s a trick to this, but I can’t FUCKING REMEMBER” and meanwhile, I’m blowing up Henry’s phone like he’s going to be able to coach us.

“Now…1, 2, 3, TURN.”

Or tell us what the magic word is.

Is it FIRE? Because I’m not above threatening the fucking front door.

After a solid 8 minutes of wrestling with this cursed key, it finally clicked and the door opened. Blake was so angry at this point that he didn’t even say anything to me, he just walked away and went back to his house.

This key is FUCKING SOUL-SUCKING.

I’m not going to lie, when I leave the house and know that no one will be here when I come home, I leave it unlocked. Henry hates it when I do this because we live on a busy street in the city, but wtf else can I do!?

YEARS this has been going on. YEARS. And then on Sunday, Henry got a package from Amazon – A REKEY KIT.

HENRY RE-KEYED THE DOOR WHATEVER THAT MEANS NEVER MIND I KNOW WHAT IT MEANS—IT MEANS I HAVE A KEY THAT ACTUALLY SLIPS INTO THE KEYHOLE LIKE A BUTTERED DICK:

This was big news at work today when I told….well, Glenn and Carrie. But they were like, “Oh shit!” because they know all about the trials and tribs about us Pioneer Ave Kids tryna’ get into the damn door. I’m mostly excited to get a new keychain for my new key! NEW YEAR, NEW KEY!

I know my old key, the OG Key, is going to wash ashore now that it’s too late.

I was asking for it Wednesday night when, while getting into bed, I said I wanted to listen to a goth Spotify playlist because I “hadn’t had a nightmare in a while.”

HOO BOY did that playlist ever deliver.

I don’t make a habit of dream journaling or whatever because who cares, but this one was so relevant, and also one of the most rattling nightmares I’ve had in years and it played on so many of my current fears, stressors, and insecurities.

Allllllll work-related.

And both involved WENDY, so I of course was spitting mad at her for approximately a day and a half. I had four days to cool down before finally telling her about the dreams today, so she should consider herself lucky that I spared the rod!

(I started doing Jillian Michaels’ Body Revolution again last week and she says something at one point in Workout 2 about never sparing the rod so I guess that’s been on my mind OK?!)

(What rod, though?!)

OK, Nightmare #1 is as follows:

I was in a meeting with one of the teams I belong to here, except that it looked like we were in a VFW hall instead of a conference room. There were long, folding tables set up in vertical rows so no one was facing the front of the room. At one point, Wendy, who is in charge of this particular team, called me out. Not like in a bad way, like she was pointing out a mistake I did or something, but rather, she was asking me to tell the room about something I had told her in a private sit-down we recently had, I guess it was an idea or suggestion. Except that I couldn’t remember, so I said, “Sorry, I’m drawing a blank” but she kept pushing me and at this point, there were dozens of eyes boring into my skin, which is now flaming hot from the boiling blood underneath, and I now notice that all of the managers and directors are in this meeting too, and they’re all looking at me with these disappointed frowns, some even look disgusted, and I am, at this point, like a scared mouse ready to gnaw off my own foot in order to escape this trap. And Wendy is STILL saying things like, “Come on, you remember…” while I’m beginning to ugly cry. It just kept dragging on and on, me stuttering and sounding like a fucking derelict, someone snapping in the background about how people need to come to meetings prepared, and then afterward, when Wendy tells me what the idea was (which she knew the whole time but just wanted me to say it!), someone overhears and sneers, “That’s a fucking stupid idea.”

I woke up because it felt like there was a woman leaning over top of my face, whispering.

And when I say I woke up, I mean that I shot upright in bed, hands clutching the comforter, freaking the FUCK out. My cat Penelope, who always sleeps in our bed, was like, “the fuck?!”

Then I couldn’t go back to sleep because I was so stressed out so I looked at my phone and of course the first thing I saw was the only bad feedback I have ever received on Etsy in the 13 years I’ve been using it, all because Henry made a careless printing mistake, and it was something that could have been easily resolved if the customer had just sent me a message instead of putting me on blast, so that was what I like to call to 4am Fun Times.

And then it was time for Nightmare #2.

I’m still at work. This time, I’m back in our department, and I need to talk to my co-worker Maggie, but when I get to her office, I see that Amber is in there. Rather than retreating and coming back later, I just…walk right in. No “knock knock!” or nothin’, I just barrel right the hell in there like I own the place and then I’m ACUTELY aware of the annoyance on Amber and Maggie’s faces but now it’s too late – I’m there, so I pretend to know what they’re talking about in order to contribute, and Amber has now morphed into Sandy who is about to show Maggie some new program or something and I inch closer to the monitor and say, “Oh, I should see this too because it’s relevant to my job” and they don’t even try to hide their eye rolls and sighs, and then Sandy is Amber again and has to leave so now it’s just Maggie and me and Maggie is PISSED because she can hear music and needs to know where it’s coming from, so I turn and realize that it’s my phone, cactus case and all, sitting on her credenza playing 80s music outright because in real life, back in the safety of my actual bedroom, my Spotify playlist has gone from goth to 80s pop and Debbie Gibson, fucking DEBORAH GIBSON, has filtered into my gooey dream-brain and Dream Erin is now panicking because she apparently walked all the way through the department to Maggie’s office, with Spotify blasting out of her phone which is something Awake Erin would never do because Awake Erin is always  trying to be quiet and go unnoticed while at work.

Wendy’s back. She comes into Maggie’s office and fetches me and we’re walking together now to the elevator bank. We’re talking about non-work stuff now so I’m distracted and I don’t realize until it’s too late that she’s brought me with her all the way to the top floor, which is where Dream Law Firm holds of its Really Important Meetings. We had to walk through some winding hallways before finally getting to the main part of the room, which was dimly lit and filled with round tables covered with white tablecloths to really ghost up the haunted ballroom aesthetic. Wendy wades farther into the cluster of tables, but I stop at the perimeter because now self-awareness is beginning to ooze down my body in warm, clotted pigs blood clumps a la THE PROM SCENE OF CARRIE.

In this meeting are all of the directors, managers, supervisors. Lauren is there also for some reason, probably because she is smart. There is a woman there who is not part of our department but as soon as I hear her Australian accent, I recognize her as the woman who led a recent meeting about a new program that we will soon be using in our department. She is a real person, my sleep state didn’t construct her out of obligatory mommy issues or a subliminal fear of the Great Barrier Reef or whatever.

Although the GBR does seem like something Conscious Erin would be afraid of.

Anyway, I’m standing there, all scared-rabbit, and I’m saying, softly at first, “I’m not supposed to be here” and one by one, everyone turns to ogle me as my voice gets more racked with hysterics, and I’m looking both ways, willing my legs to move so I can run away, but I’m glued there, and now this lady, the Australian one for whom everyone is on their best behavior and dressed all nice while I’m wearing jeans, natch, she’s asking me who I am.

Not even in a snotty tone or anything, but she’s like legitimately curious who this Dumbo is who clearly has nothing to contribute to the day’s agenda.

And without hesitating, I blurt out, “Nobody. I’m nobody.”

A literal No One.

I can move now, and of course no one gets up to stop me or comfort me, let the loser go, thank god she’s not trying to sit with us, but of course I can’t find the way out. Every corridor is a DEAD ASS DEAD END. There are champagne-colored curtains in front of all the hallways, like we’re at the world’s most boring wedding reception and I’m getting tangled up in them and I AM SCREAMING but no one is listening anymore because the Australian is saying very captivating things. Evidently.

But then I find a row of shiny maroon curtains and when I step behind them, there’s a row of windows, I’m at the edge of the building now, and there are small tables to sit. So I figure I’ll just stay there and hide and now I’m eating a salad which I guess I was carrying the whole time. I’m starting to calm down a little because I’m hidden, no one can see me, I’ll just stay here forever if I have to, no one will miss me, when all of a sudden I hear people screaming and I can hear heavy footsteps thundering toward me. People from the meeting start to burst through the curtains, and someone is screaming, “LOOK HOW AWFUL!!” as they slam into me, pushing me against the window so that they can get closer. And when I realize it’s not me who is horrifying them, I turn to look out the window and see that the entire North Shore is on fire. There are flames and thick black smoke that covers half of the bridges so you can’t even really see past the river to the other side.

We are all screaming now, because the fire seems so close even though it’s on the other side of the river, and for some reason, the most vivid part of my dream is watching as a yellow dumptruck emerges from the smoke on the bridge closest to our building and just straight up careens across it, totally out of control, taking out every car that gets in its way, and we are traumatized when it ends in this apocalyptic, Jerry Bruckheimer-be-damned explosion.

I don’t know what that fucker represents, my out of control emotions maybe, but while we’re all gaping at that, I feel a jolt in my stomach, like I’m dropping on a roller coaster, and that’s when I lock eyes with Regina, who wasn’t in the meeting but is up in this weird ballroom now, and I can hear Margie saying something behind me, right as I realize I’m falling backward.

Because our building is tipping. The whole motherfucking building is going, we’re about to crash harder and more dramatically than that dumptruck fucker, give the Golden Globe to whoever write OUR demolition scene. and right when I realize I’m living my last seconds on earth, I wake up in real life in the throes of one of those silent, strangulated screams that only the cast of your nightmare can hear and now my cat Penelope is REALLY FUCKING WORRIED ABOUT ME which I know by the way she’s pushing my laptop over to me with the google search “How to update your resume” already pawed-in.

This was early Thursday morning and I have not been able to stop thinking about it, the palpable fear, the feeling in my gut as the law firm was literally pulling us all down to our certain deaths. I am shuddering all over again right now.

Usually my dreams are Dario Argento Does HR Pufnstuf and the setting is either my mom’s house, my pappap’s house, an abandoned amusement park, or some sick ass disgusting body of water. But this one, it is so textbook. So armchair. Hello INFERIORITY COMPLEX. Hello FEELINGS OF BEING LEFT OUT. Hello CAREER PANIC. Hello INADEQUACIES. 안영 I DONT BELONG.

I’m not going to quit my job or anything but I think this is a huge neon sign telling me that I need to chill the fuck out and reset myself. I really do feel like nobody sometimes, sorry to be emo, and like no one is hearing me.  Maybe I should start walking around with Spotify blasting outright on my phone.

Anyway, that’s all. I have to go look up “yellow dumptrucks in dreams” now. Maybe it means I have some latent desire to fuck a construction guy on a bridge and then one of us is going to get a fiery STD.

Goodbye.

Still trying to be a dutiful greeting card pimp, so today, let’s ohh and ahh over another set of Valentines! I’m still really proud of the Golden Girls Valentine collection, and I wanted to give them some love on this blog by….reposting what I wrote last year…and the year before…because let’s be real, I love these cards but not enough to write a brand new script for them!

***************

I couldn’t sleep one night and I was thinking, “How can I further expand my card line/release some of this psychotic energy that’s keeping me awake?” And then I wondered if the Golden Girls would be a good fit with the serial killers and vintage porn stars of noncomposcards and you guys, I think it’s a good fit. I mean, someone bought two GG cards and a porn star set so…

Condoms! Condoms! Condoms!

I know I’m not alone in deriving great comfort from Golden Girls reruns. Like so many others, I grew up on this show in the 80s. Of course, back then, it was way too “adult” for me, and most of it went way over my head, but I still watched it because I loved Rose and her St. Olaf tales and Dorothy’s relationship with her mom and Blanche was always GOALS. I used to sleep over my grandparents house on Saturday nights and it honestly feels like yesterday when I would sit on the couch next to my Grandma, wearing some old oversized beer t-shirt as a nightgown, watching The Golden Girls and Empty Nest. (And Hunter but was that on Fridays? I only ever watched Hunter at my grandparents house.)

Very little in life has felt more comfortable and warm to me than those childhood Saturday nights on Gillcrest Drive.

I think like there are a lot of people who can relate to this!

Cheesecake & Chill?

Vertubenflugen

Blanche Devereaux Girl’s Night 

Funny story – one time many moons ago I sent Henry to the video rental place down the street and made him ask the guy in the back for Revolutionary War porn, so he was already flustered about that, and then he turned around and accidentally knocked over an entire rack of pornos, cutting his knuckle in the process and to this day I still refer it as The Porn Wound. He gets so mad.

Now you know something about me! Well, about my boyfriend.

The backs are cute AF, IMO.

Literally, not once in this Valentine promotion series have I had presentable nails. I’M SORRY, YOU GUYS. I’m hideous.

But enough about my chipped polish, what I like about these cards is that there’s something in there for both platonic friends and people you’re legit hot for.

This Sophia one is my favorite though because I love vintage porn and Sicily 1969 porn is probably pretty hot. Especially if it’s Mt. Etna-themed.

I know, I know – “Bea Mine,” what a fucking cop-out. But I wanted to get these done for you in time! I’m already jotting down ideas for a second set for next year, so I will redeem myself for being so basic.

Most of these are adapted quotes from the show, and I thought the Sophia one up there was actually super romantic if you think of it in terms of “Hey, let’s grow old and toothless together.” You know? Maybe I do have a heart after all.

Similar to the serial killer, porn, The Cure, and kpop sets (god, what a collection), there are 16 different cards in this set, perfect for passing out like you’re still a kid in elementary school when the only care was, “YEAH BUT WHAT CANDY COMES WITH IT” – oh wait, that’s still a major concern! Fuck off with those fruit-flavored tootsie rolls!

And there you have it. $8 for the whole set! Pick up some serial killers, cult leaders, The Cure, or vintage porn stars while you’re at it! SOME PEOPLE BUY ONE OF EACH, CAN YOU IMAGINE.

Is it weird to only listen to you favorite band occasionally, maybe even as infrequently as once a year? That’s how I am with The Cure, who, in spite of all the music phases I’ve tried on over the years, have never been dethroned as my All-Time Most Favorite Band In the World, bury me to Same Deep Water As You.

It’s because my emotional response to their music is so strong that I will likely expire prematurely if I indulge myself too much. But while I was reading the other night, I put on a Cure playlist and from there, Disintegration played in its entirety. Suddenly, it was winter of 1999 / 2000 all over again and I’m lying on a floor pillow in my sparsely decorated house, having only moved in several months prior, listening to this album on repeat, crying myself sick while seriously contemplating self-slaughter and now, all the way ahead in 2020, I’m wondering how I made it through that long, soul-sucking winter.

Those were some bleak times in my life. And I’d like to say something cheerful and uplifting about how The Cure saved my life and really pulled me out of the mental pit, but um…have you heard The Cure? My inner doom & gloom fed off their discography, which I played over and over again because I have always been one for torture and self-loathing.

Anyway, the other night while reading, only a split second of “Last Dance” had begun to play and I was already catching my breath and feeling that familiar lump forming in my throat. And then I just silently let myself cry a little.

That song is just as beautiful as ever but fuck does it rip me up inside.

It’s tradition for Janna, Chooch and me to go out for lunch on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, if only doing this once prior counts as “tradition.” We’ve already started this tradition with a strangely volatile track record, because last year I chose a restaurant that was extremely crowded with awkward seating, so we left after being seated at a crowded counter, and then ended up having another awkward seating experience at the ramen place we chose as our fall-back.

But then we had a great time at a post-lunch cafe (Black Forge, holla!) so that made it seem, in our memories, that we should do it again this year. I guess kind of like how some women forget the horrors of pregnancy/child birth and do it again.

This time, it was Janna’s turn to choose an uncomfortable eating establishment!

First though, the day started on a high when Janna got yelled at in the parking lot across from my house for allegedly thieving Hot Naybor Chris’s wife’s parking spot. Janna had to swear that she’s not a weirdo after HNC’s wife ranted about all the weirdos in the neighborhood and swore she didn’t realize it was someone else’s spot (newsflash: none of us have our own assigned parking spots, so…).

“Wow, she’s very shrill,” Janna laughed when she walked into my house and Chooch and I were dying. We wanted her to get beaten, but verbal abuse is just as good!

We immediately set off for Ineffable Cà Phê which I’ve wanted to try for awhile, but anytime we’ve been in the area, it’s always looks very crowded. Well, today was no different and it didn’t help that we arrived right smack in the middle of noon.

Maybe I’m just FUCKING OLD, but I really dislike places that force you to order at a counter. I get that this is also a cafe, but perhaps separate the two areas, I dunno, because the menus were all split up in different spots and by the time it was our turn to order, I was teetering on the tip of a tantrum and blurted out, “I’LL HAVE THE SAME AS HIM” and nudged Chooch, even though I didn’t know what he ordered because every time I asked him, he ignored me.

Then the real fun began—looking for a place to sit. Again, this is a cafe that also serves food (and some of  the food is pho, so…not exactly something you can casually eat while standing. I was having ANXIETY by this point because we were just standing there, lost, in everyone’s way, looking for a place that could seat three people, but because THIS IS ALSO A CAFE, 90% of the seats were occupied by people who were not eating, but staring at their laptops with dead eyes.

Booths? People working.

Shared tables? Full of lazy hipsters and surrounded by a moat of coiled laptop cords on the floor, which I almost tripped over numerous times.

It was absolutely trash as far as comfort levels went.

We finally settled on an armchair (which White Knight Jr, a/k/a Chooch, argued was “very comfortable” and he was “just fine”) and a couch in the corner, with some extremely enlarged spool-thing to use as a table. It was SO FUCKING UNCOMFORTABLE.

The couch was so low to the ground and I had to bend in half every time I took a bite of my tofu banh mi (good choice, Chooch), so I guess at least I was getting an ab workout, I dunno.

It was so bad that while we were waiting for our food, Janna could see Mt.Erinsuvius getting ready to erupt and suggested that we just get our food to go, save it for dinner, and then go somewhere for lunch.

NOT AFTER I JUST THREW DOWN $20 ON TWO SANDWICHES (AND NO DRINKS!!).

Luckily for this damn place, the banh mi was really good. It’s so hard to find GOOD TOFU on sandwiches, and theirs had a really great marinade to it. I approved. So did Chooch, who was blessedly silent while inhaling his lunch.

The worst part about this though was that I had to go to the counter and retrieve both sandwiches after my name was called, and it was a veritable slalom course of laptop cords and backpacks but I persevered all while muttering, “Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me.”

When Janna’s food was ready, the guy was like, “I will bring it to you” because she got pho, but she still walked over and kept trying to take it from him and he was like, “I WILL BRING IT TO YOU” – Chooch and I were dying. Finally, something good was happening!

Then the guy gave Janna a sauce recommendation but she of course didn’t pay attention, so when he left our table she was like, “What did he tell me to do?” and I was like, “Mix the sriracha and hoisin.” As she embarked on the  treacherous journey to the counter to fetch said sauces, Chooch was like, “Oh, I thought you said sriracha and POISON and I was like ‘Yes, we’re killing Janna!'” Hahaha.

Actually, once we got our food and established ourselves in the corner which was DEFINITELY meant for relaxing with a book and coffee, not hunched over a lunch you’re trying not to spill, it was OK. Would I go back? I AM NOT SURE. Maybe I’d get it to go, but I can’t foresee myself ever attempting to dine in there again unless I get there immediately when it opens or like, right after a kitchen fire,  idk.

However, there was one super positive aspect about this place, and that was when we stumbled on  the adjacent boutique on the way out. It’s just a tiny little nook in the corner of the cafe but just secluded enough so you feel like you’re in another space altogether, and it’s run by a super lovely lady who chatted us up but not in the sense where I was trying to peel my skin off and lift it up over my head to form a nice bloody flesh tent under which to camp out with my social inadequacies.

She was SO LOVELY that Chooch was like, “I WANT ONE OF HER CANDLES.” They were all very earthly, masculine smells, er, scents, which I appreciate in a candle from time to time; one can only have so many pumpkin spices and clean cotton fragrances in the house, you know?

The special thing about her candles is that you can DIP YOUR FINGERS INTO THE HOT WAX, which is like every kids’ and my dream, and then RUB IT INTO YOUR SKIN BECAUSE IT DOUBLES AS ESSENTIAL OIL.

Brilliant. Yes, let me buy one of those.

It took Chooch forever to choose a scent (black currant is what he ultimately went for?!) and then Janna had to copy us and buy one too but when the lady asked her for her email address, Janna rattled off something I’ve never heard before, so I yelled, “HEY I DON’T KNOW ABOUT THAT EMAIL ADDRESS!” and it was quiet for a second while the lady’s eyeballs looked like they were watching a scary tennis match, but then Janna just nervously laughed it off so then the lady laughed too but I WASNT LAUGHING.

Meanwhile, there was a dog behind the counter but Chooch wasn’t able to reach it so he was terribly upset about that.

THEN WE WENT DOWNTOWN. I started laughing when I realized that it was exactly 2::00pm, which is what time I would normally be ambling about down there on a regular workday. First, we stopped at this art installation thing because Pittsburgh sometimes tries to hang with the Big City Kids by doing artsy things for people to either enjoy, scrutinize, or vandalize. I walk past this every day but have never bothered to stop and explore, so I was happy that we parked literally on the same block as it.

It was pretty cold that day but not as cold as it was last year when we did out MLK outing, because I think it was like 10 degrees that day. If you ask Mr. I Never Get Cold, he’ll tell you that both days weren’t cold at all. I hate him sometimes.

IF YOU LOOK, YOU CAN SEE ALL THREE OF US OMG.

I’m like way good at posing.

AnywaySSSS, the reason we were downtown is because Bae Bae’s Kitchen opened a brand new cafe down the street called, well, Bae Bae’s Cafe. I’ve been stalking it for months on my daily lunch break walks and was excited to get there on their second day! (I feel like the first opening day would have been stuffed to the gills with influencers and the like, so…no thanks.)

Chooch and I are both avid boba fans, so I got a taro and he chose earl gray which I thought was an odd choice for him and turns out he ended up thinking the same once he sipped it. He added some cane sugar to it after awhile and then deemed it drinkable.

This is DEFINITELY an Instagram-cafe. That’s not to take away from their drinks which are wonderful; they also serve lunch items but we had already done that so I ordered chocolate chip cookies for us to share and they were REALLY DELICIOUS. Like 진짜 맛있어요!

(Bae Bae’s is Korean, yo.)

So, the seating is pretty non-existent here, which was hilarious to us because all we wanted to do was be able to sit together today while eating and drinking?! Like, I can’t think of many more basic wants, you know? But this space is pretty small so probably prepare to pop in and pop out if you go on a busy day. As it turned out, Janna had to sit by herself and then when she left her seat to go to the counter to get her drink, some asshole stole her seat! AND THE GUY HE WAS WITH WHO WAS ALREADY SITTING ACROSS FROM WHERE JANNA HAD BEEN SAID NOTHING!

To be fair, either did Chooch or I. Chooch was just like, “LOL, Janna lost her seat” and then continued slurping up boba.

My bedroom is almost this same color and now I know that UMERELLA-ELLA-ELLAS ON THE CEILING is what it’s been missing. Get on that, Henry.

The guy on the couch is the d-bag who stole Janna’s seat, but then he moved to the couch once it became available, so Janna got her seat back. Damn. Anyway, these guys were v.annoying.

It’s a very elegant and, to use a word people hate, no not moist: WHIMSICAL.

I personally liked it because it gave off Wonderland vibes and that’s my jam. My favorite Alice In Wonderland is  the version that as Carol Channing and Ann Jillian in it, in case you were wondering. I think it’s from the early 80s.

Seriously,  the best. Followed by that weirdo Jan Svankmajer stop-motion film “Alice.” Horrifying.

Janna Sits Alone.

Anyway, the best part of the day was that the proprietor of the Bae Bae’s empire, Ashley, was there and she came over to talk to Chooch and me and she took our picture for the cafe’s Instagram story! She also said I looked very familiar to her and I was like, “Oh god, am I on some Koreaboo list?!” Like Megan’s List but for Koreans to watch out for people obsessed with their culture. But it turns out she just recognized me from all the times I’ve cupped my hands next to my face and peeked in the cafe’s windows JUST KIDDING she said she thinks I looked familiar because I follow Bae Bae’s on Instagram. To be honest, I rarely go to Bae Bae’s Kitchen even though it’s right near my office because:

• it’s kind of expensive
• it sits super heavily in my stomach (BUT IT’S SO GOOD)
• I don’t want to be a creep

We tried to stay as long as we could because there were three “super hip” Modcloth chicks hogging the best seat in the house and I wanted to get pictures there too but they came with A CAMERA, like a real DSLR, and just when I thought they were getting ready to leave, one of them went back up  to the counter to order dessert for them to share, see also: NEW PROP FOR MORE PICTURES.

I saw later that night that Bae Bae’s reposted some of their pictures and THEY SAT ON OUR SEATS AFTER WE LEFT, which was like 15 minutes before closing, so maybe the whole time THEY were trying to wait US out?? Like, if I had just gone over there and politely said, “EXCUSE ME, CUNTS WE WANT TO SIT HERE FOR A SEC, BEAT IT” everyone could have gotten their way!?

Anyway, it was a tumultuous day. A real roller coaster of emotions. Maybe next year, we’ll just go to the movies and Taco Bell.

*(OK “romance” might be a stretch.)

So I guess Sundays have become “Henry Tries a New Coffee” Day. I’m totally fine with that because I love going to cafes but it’s no fun when I’m the only one enjoying it.

LOL wait a minute – who am I kidding? I only care about my own cafe pleasure!

The thing with Henry is that he has even less tolerance for any coffee cantina that’s gonna draw in The Influencers, OH YOU KNOW THE TYPES. So I have to really ease him into this scene by selecting laidback and neutral spots where middle-aged men with no fashion sense and calloused hands can nurse a drink without being eyeballed for wearing a flannel BUT NOT THE RIGHT FLANNEL.

We decided to go to the new Black Forge location. Henry’s been to the original place once and didn’t die from living botanical Instagram walls or impatient baristas who sigh because you want to actually look at the menu and then snap WE ONLY HAVE OAT when you audaciously ask for soy, what, I’m not going off an a personal tangent here or anything.

The thing with Black Forge is that it’s a DARK HAVEN. Like you’ve walked into Hell while all the fires are extinguished. Just, blackness everywhere. Metal-themed coffee drink names. Anti-Trump Administration punch cards.

You’d expect the lot to be all motorcycles and hearses.

And the other thing with this place is that no one treats you like your eyeliner isn’t smoky enough or you don’t have enough tattoos or you’ve never Ghost.

(The band. Not the movie. God.)

Every single barista I have encountered here has been SO AWESOME. The young guy there on this day was all “Cool!” after each order we placed and you know, I felt like he really did think it was cool when I ordered the Unicorn Beat Blast with soy, hot. It made me feel more confident in my choice.

I walked away before Henry ordered because of the secondhand embarrassment I get upon overhearing him bungle drink orders. It’s so bad sometimes.

Henry got a cold brew with almond milk (simple enough to relay to the barista but I’m sure he still fucked it up) and I think he’s determined that this is His Drink now.

He just can’t get behind hot coffee. He doesn’t like anything sweet in it, no sugar, sweetener, syrups. No whole milk. It’s almond or GTFO, I guess.

I’m selfishly excited about this because sometimes, SOMETIMES, Henry makes his own cold brew at home for me and it’s always the best when he does this because I love iced coffee too but not when I brew a pot and then dump ice in it. No. I like when Henry makes legit cold brew, so now that he suddenly has a taste for it, perhaps he will start making it again??

I just asked him.

“He used to make cold brew?” Chooch asked, his eyebrows pulled up in skepticism.

“Yeah like twice,” I scoffed.

“I MADE IT MORE THAN TWICE!” Henry yelled from his post at the Valentine Card Work Station.

Chooch is a Big Nope for coffee but he really likes a good chai latte and agrees with me that Crazy Mocha is the best, Starbucks can suck it, and Black Forge’s was “good once it cooled down.” OK Goldilocks.

There was a dog there and that was literally all Chooch cared about.

I have to give it to Henry though: he’s way less dramatic about this than I was when I was trying to force myself to like beer.

Maybe I’ll start a new series here where Henry reviews coffee every Sunday. I just proposed this to him and he scrunched up his face and walked away. I think that’s a yes! SEE YA BACK HERE ON SUNDAY FOR HENRY’S KOFFEE KLATCH!

Today’s blog post is about two past phases I went through. Enjoy.

Disco Delite

I sometimes do walking/dance workouts on this one YouTube channel called Up to the Beat Fitness and one of her videos is disco-themed, which is pretty fun/hokey/hilarious to do. I was doing it as a filler workout over the weekend, while Henry was grueling away at the serial killer Valentine factory, aka in the next room over at the dining room table. The music of this workout made me super nostalgic.

“Did I ever tell you about the time went through a disco phase?” I called out to Henry, who murmured something that sounded like, “If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

“It was in the early 90s when I was in middle school,” I began my tale while performing a sidestep/John Travolta finger point combo.

I remember VIVIDLY being at the K-mart (ew) checkout with my mom and eyeballing a rack of best of the decades CDs. They always had Billboard Top whatever from some random year, and I had a bunch of those already in my strange CD collection. But on this day, I noticed new ones: Disco’s Greatest Hits, Disco Inferno, Disco Delight. Coke-snorting mood music, basically. They seemed interesting to me, so I threw some in the cart. My mom was like, “that’s cool” because she never said no to me.

This is why I’m the way I am.

So, turns out, I REALLY LIKED DISCO. Like, it fucking SPOKE TO ME. The only thing was, it wasn’t “back in vogue” yet, or whatever, to like it. So everyone at school was like, “The fuck is a disco?” But I wanted to talk about it ALL THE TIME like I was on a one-way trip to motherfucking Funky Town. I think it was in 8th grade Language Arts where the class had to get into groups and write a skit for some reason, I already used up a chunk of 1992 brainspace on the aforementioned Kmart memory, so excuse me for being a bit vague here. Anyway, my group, I literally can’t remember a single person who was in it, but we did some sort of Brady Bunch spoof.

“I was Cindy.”

Henry mumbled, “Of course you were.”

I begged my group to let me add something disco-related into our skit and they were like NO NO NO YOU FUCKING STRANGE BIRD because I guess I was pretty strange back then (certainly not anymore) but for as strange as I was, I was also extremely convincing so in the end, the group relented and after the final scene, I got to “hustle” on in from the sidelines, stop in the middle and exclaim, “Disco delite!” and then dance away.

Everyone was like, “OMG wow” and it was never spoken of again.

Bonus disco memory: My mom suggested that I pop a squat and watch Saturday Night Fever since I was suddenly Groovy Erin, and while I LOVED it, the only thing that sticks out in my mind when I think about it was that it was the very first time I ever heard the word “cunt” (surprisingly not a common swearword in my middle school in the early 90s for some reason unless I was just hanging out with squares!?!?) and so I got to ask my mom, “Hey, what does cunt mean” and she was like, “DO NOT EVER SAY THAT WORD IN SCHOOL.”

Lol.

Side note: I made Henry do one of the Up to the Beat Fitness walks at another point over the weekend and Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” was one of the songs in  the totally random mix, and I had to stop walking and do the pee-squat because I started laughing uncontrollably when I imagined Henry walking slowly through a grocery store, vacant eyes, savoring the borrowed time he had away from Chooch and me, while “I Will Survive” played overhead. He just glared at me when I told him this through laugh-wheezes.

Mumblecore & Me

In 2006, I became obsessed with this movie called The Puffy Chair.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, at the time I remember feeling like the earth was moving around me and thinking, “THIS FILM HAS CHANGED MY LIFE.” So then I made Henry watch it and he was like, “….
and then I made ex-bff Christina watch it too and she was like, “….” but to be fair, she was a fucking moron and Henry has literally no taste when it comes to cinema. From this movie, I became OBSESSED with Mark Duplass and then learned that MUMBLECORE was a legit genre of film. I was all-in, man. I needed to see everything. Now, this was before the years of streaming, back when you still had to order real life DVDs from Netflix, and actual video stores still existed.

In the back of the original location for the local cafe, Crazy Mocha, there was a small video store called Dreaming Ant. Between that place and the SORELY MISSED Incredibly Strange Video which I could walk to from my house, I was spoiled with the selections of student art films, Asian horror, international dramas…..and MUMBLECORE. If it existed, they had it and I went on a renting flurry.

Wikipedia defines mumblecore as:

a subgenre of independent film^[1][2] characterized by naturalistic acting and dialogue (sometimes improvised), low-budget film production, an emphasis on dialogue over plot, and a focus on the personal relationships of people in their 20s and 30s.

Henry H-A-T-E-D it. So much talking. So many young people, just talking. Can’t relate. Put to sleep. Boo hoo.

And anytime I would try to explain it to friends and (pre-Law Firm) co-workers, they were like “That sounds dumz0rz.” So I got made fun of a lot.

One of my favorite films in this genre was “Hannah Takes the Stairs” which starred then-unknown Greta Gerwig.

“Greta Gerwig was in that movie and I would gush about her all the time and my friends were like no one cares BUT NOW THAT SHE’S DIRECTED LITTLE WOMEN EVERYONE IS LIKE OMG GRETA GERWIG BLAH BLAH BLAH, LIKE THE SAME PEOPLE WHO USED TO MAKE FUN OF ME!” I wailed at work last week to Glenn, who was like, “Don’t worry, I still don’t care.”

Sorry. I have been a little UP IN ARMS about this.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta Get Down Tonight.