Chooch let me do the stupid wavy eyebrow challenge thing in him because we’re bored and Henry isn’t paying attention to us. But then I had to let him do it on me too & it was horrifying, having his grubby hand so close to my eyes with a pencil. 

Henry didn’t even notice at first. He was too busy looking at computer auctions or mold rants on Reddit, or whatever it is he does on his phone. 

Now I feel like we should do this at work tomorrow in our weekly meeting, kind of like TRUST FALLS. 

On Saturday, we had donuts and coffee at some point while in Chicago. I’m not a big donut connoisseur by any stretch, but that might be because Pittsburgh doesn’t really have much to offer in that vein. (Although I still haven’t tried Duck Donuts and that place seems appealing to me.)

(And please don’t say BUT PEACE, LOVE, LITTLE DONUTS because I fucking refuse to support an establishment owned by a homophobic bigot piece of shit. It saddens me how many pieces have seemed to either overlook that or have forgotten. But I never forget!)

I wanted to try Firecakes though because they’re reknown for their donut ice cream sandwiches. Unforch, we stopped here right after eating pizza and I did not have it in me to find room in my stomach next to all that cheese. Ugh. I always have big plans of visiting a city and eating all their trendy food and then end up only eating two meals. 

(Honestly, aside from breakfast in Indiana that morning, the late lunch pizza was only sit-down meal for the day in Chicago.)

If there is anything pistachio on the menu, I will snatch that shit up without a secondary glance. This Sicilian pistachio old-fashioned was a DELIGHT. My donut preference is light and non-messy. Nothing filled. I hate filled donuts! And I’m not big into chocolate-y ones either. I like ones that get most of the flavor from the actual donut dough, and that’s how this one was. Not too sweet, with a gentle, light-handed pistachio nuance. #doucheyYelpreview

I didn’t want to share, but I did because I wanted to try Henry’s which was good but messy and filled. :( It was butterscotch praising, which I almost ordered but now I’m glad I didn’t because that pistachio was everything I wanted in that moment. 

(I just stared dreaming at the photo of it for a couple seconds into the Inappropriate Zone.)

Chooch got a red velvet but I didn’t try his because, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, I think I’m over red velvet. We had a long, good run together though! 

Later that evening, we hit up Goddess and the Baker because it was the only non-Starbucks cafe open at that hour within walking distance. Henry hated  it immediately because he hates coffee and everything about that scene. Chooch was down though because he’s a hot chocolate aficionado. 

I got a pourover and later had major order-remorse when I noticed the specialty drink menu — so many interesting flavored lattes that appealed to me! I’m really into honey, floral, and maple—not all in one latte, but you know…if I wander into a coffee joint that has those options beyond your standard pumpkin spice and caramel, I will happily overlook the pretentious third wave coffee klatch I’m inevitably walking in on. 

(Speaking of, there is a place here in Bloomfield that has an impressive list of housemade floral syrups and maybe I’ll stop there today—YOU DONT KNOW MY SCHEDULE!)

That pourover was delicious though. However, while I was waiting for it, some suspicious guy walked in, came right up to me because why wouldn’t he, and said something like, “Excuse me, miss” and then a bunch of words in a tone entirely too low for me or most normal-eared humans to possibly hear. I panicked because he had a very questionable aura to him so I blurted, “I DONT HAVE ANYTHING IM SORRY” because I assumed that he was asking for money or my pledge to Christ. 

There was a moment of uncertainty where I was braced for a knife in the gut, but then he nodded and walked slowly back out onto the street. 

I kee expecting this sign to say “eat now caffeinate later” and that would just be so fucking wrong. 

Overall, I would go back to both of these places in Chicago (they each have multiple locations, too) and probably would try to save room for a donut ice cream sandwich next time because I have The Regrets. 

Thank you. This has been a coffee and donut intermission. 

Technically, this was my fourth time in Chicago, but I have never actually gotten to see anything or explore because we are always there for Riot Fest, and that’s a three day music festival which doesn’t really allow for tourism time. I’ve never even had a chance to see the Bean in person!

So I was really happy when Henry agreed to leave a day earlier for the Taeyang concert so that we would have a full day on Saturday to actually walk around downtown Chicago like fuckin’ tourists, man.

First, we explored the Bahá’í Temple, and then we checked into our hotel, the Chicago Loop Hotel, which was…downtown but not downtown? I don’t know. I don’t feel like looking at a map right. I can tell you that it was about a 10 minute ride on the L to get to the main attractions in downtown Chicago, though.

The hotel was way nicer than I expected though, after three straight years of staying in the grodiest “hotel” for Riot Fest, so shady that it had a different name all three times. It was definitely one of the nicer rooms Frugal Father has put us up in, and Chooch and I were both impressed. I do this thing where I’m like, “I don’t care if we have to stay in a freaking hostel, I just need to get to [x city] for [x concert]!” but really I’m like, “Please god at least let it be three stars.”

We chilled in the room long enough for me to have a wardrobe change and just chill out for 30 minutes or so. Chooch turned on the TV just in time for me to cry my fucking face off at the tail end of “Fried Green Tomatoes.” Chooch asked me what the movie was even about and as soon as I tried to give him a synopsis, my throat got all closed up and I started sobbing.

It’s just emotion that’s taken me over
Tied up in sorrow, lost in my soul

Sorry. Bee Gees breakdown.

And guess what we had to walk through to get to the L station?!

Fucking Chinatown, man! What luck!

Ah, the wonderful smells and sights of Chinatown! One of the ice cream places on my list was actually in Chinatown, and I had just spotted it across the street when suddenly Chooch started screaming, “MOMMY! KPOP!” and I was like….

“WHAT OMG LET’S GO!!” and Henry was all, “….um, that looks closed. Come on, keep walkin—-” but I was already jay-walking across the street and wrenching the door open.

SORRY HENRY THIS JOINT IS OPEN.

It did kind of look closed though. And not just “closed for the day” but “closed for life.” Why were the windows so dark, like a sex shop!?

This place wasn’t as friendly as the store we visited in Toronto, but it was still like walking into a life-sized diorama of my heart. Glorious kpop was floating out of the store’s speakers while a TV mounted to the wall played the accompanying MVs. Teenaged fangirls were running amok, scooping up every item that featured their biases: pillows, socks, piggybanks. I found a Running Man pillow that I really wanted but it was $25 and kind of small, so I decided that Henry will just have to get a sewing machine and make his own k-pillows.

Ugh, I hate how expensive kpop merch is! We did stop back the next day though and I bought a BIGBANG coffee cup. Chooch got some dumb cat change purse, which was entirely unrelated to kpop but OK.

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A few blocks later, we arrived at the Cermak/Chinatown L station. I got all clenched up and nervous because public transportation is so confusing to me. Luckily, Henry can read a map with colored lines on it and use common sense to figure out which line to get on and where to get off, while Chooch and I just stood there and stared at people like Amish kids out on Rumspringa.

After Henry purchased our tickets, Chooch and I made asses of ourselves trying to get through the gate thing and one of the CTA workers had to come over and help. Chicago is hard!

The ride into town was relatively painless though. It wasn’t too crowded for a Saturday afternoon and no one was particularly shifty.

Then when we got off the L, Chooch fell when he was trying to race Henry up the station steps. This would be the first of many Chicago injuries for your boy Chooch.

Anyway, we made it downtown and emerged from the underground which Chooch got all giggly about because THIS IS WHAT A REAL CITY FEELS LIKE SON. None of that quaint Pittsburgh shit. I can basically walk the perimeter of downtown Pittsburgh on my lunch break, and nothing makes it feel more small than coming back to it after a weekend in a city like Chicago or Toronto. Sigh. I still love you, Pittsburgh. The Tiny Tim of US cities.

What happened next was that we walked to Millenium Park to see the Bean…

…but first we stopped to admire these kooky water fountains first which I actually loved way more than the Bean…

So creepy and beautiful all at once. 

There was a jazz festival happening in the park so that added to the crowd. Typically I balk at large crowds of humans but the people there weren’t being pushy and it didn’t make me feel like I was suffocating, so we forged on, closer to the Bean. 

This was when we started experience inter-familiar breakdown though, mostly between me and Chooch, because he wasn’t cooperating with me and he was making the act of snapping a family Bean reflection selfie excruciatingly frustrating, and then accused of us trying to LOSE HIM at one point so I threw a tantrum and yelled about just going back to the hotel and that everyone could kindly fuck off into the sun. 

But then I thrusted my phone into Henry’s chest and told him to deal with it, so he took a picture of the three of us like it was the simplest act in the world, and then we agreed that it was time for Chooch and me to feed our demons before they caused our heads to rotate…

That Hunts, though. 

After checking out of our last minute hotel, we stopped to have breakfast at Savory Family Restaurant before leaving Sturgis, Indiana. Chooch and I had massive egg&cheese croissants which neither of us could finish And yes, I chose to eat at this place just because it was called Savory. I love that word.

In the parking lot afterward, there was that brief moment of uncertainty if Henry was going to unlock the doors for us.

One of these days…

The only thing I remember about our Saturday morning drive was that I had a major hypochondriac breakdown and started screaming about how it feels like my whole body is full of cancer and then Henry was all, “THEN GO TO A FUCKING DOCTOR!” and I was all, “NO I WILL NOT!”

And so on and so forth.

This is what it’s like dating a girl who grew up with the Merck Manual on her bedside table.

Um, anyway. The whole reason we were en route to Chicago was so I could see Taeyang perform at the Aragon Theater, but since that wasn’t until Sunday night, we had the whole day Saturday to do as we pleased with no time restraints! Of course my logical decision was to drive past Chicago and visit the Bahá’í House of Worship because you know how much this atheist dick loves religious exploration.

I had only recently heard of this place: it’s one of only eight temples in the world dedicated to the Bahá’í faith, and allegedly the oldest one at that. From what I can tell, it’s a place to worship, open to all religions. Just some totally beautiful temple in Illinois, you guys. I immediately wanted to check it out because I am obsessed with looking at religious stuff—that’s when I turn into the ultimate tourist. It was always my favorite part of the European tours my family went on when I was a kid, too. (I wept in Assisi. I also had a really bad ear ache, but still. I straight-sobbed in front of a fucking monk.)

When I suggested this to Chooch, he was like, “That sounds dumb,” but then I showed him a picture and he was like, “YES, SIGN ME UP.” So Henry was officially out-numbered. But he didn’t put up much of a fight, maybe because he thought it could be a peaceful place to take a nap.

It took quite some time to get to Wilmette, thanks to the traffic outside of Chicago, but when we turned a corner and saw the temple looming ahead, we all agreed it was worth it already.

Unlike the Palace of Gold, there were a good bit of people there, people of all races and ages. I was worried for a second that perhaps Chooch was going to act a fool, but it was like the holy Bahá’í ghosts took over his body and he became restrained, filtered, and even a tad bit reverent.

I mean, how can you visit a place like this and not have your breath taken away, even just from an architectural aspect? Ugh, it was a sight to behold. I have absolutely nothing disparaging or shitty to say about anything or anyone we saw while there. So just enjoy these pictures of this magical spot in Wilmette, Illinois, because it was really something, you guys. God, is this what it feels like to be religious?!

The surrounding gardens made me feel like Alice in Wonderland. It was manicured to perfection.

There was no photography allowed inside the temple, so I made sure to turn my phone and shove it into my purse immediately because I am so afraid of getting yelled at by anyone in even the slightest authoritative role. And there were definitely temple people skulking around with their hands clasped behind their backs, ready to narc on someone for Snapchatting the temple’s guts or taking a church pew selfie. Chooch and I sat together in and gave ourselves neck-kinks from all the staring we did at the ceiling. Henry chose a seat at a safe distance away from us, probably because he didn’t want to be associated with us if one of us were to, say, spontaneously exorcise.

The grounds really inspired Chooch to get photographical, soccer mom-style with his tablet. He was pissed at one point because I supposedly “copied” one of his pictures.

LOL I totally did too.

Fucking Henry photobombed nearly every single one of the pictures, I hate him.

We out here, bitches.

These boats were right across the street from the temple. The whole area was so fucking quaint!

Back on the grounds, we checked out the information center, which had all kinds of…information. Also, a book store which I had hoped I could buy a magnet or a temple-shaped bottle opener, I don’t know.

“It’s probably just books,” Henry said, always the souvenir deterrent.

“No, I bet they at least have postcards and collectors spoons, BRB,” I said, barging into the bookstore.

It was just books. :(

And then we set off for Chicago (again) so we could check into our hotel. TO BE CONTINUED, OMG.

Let me tell you something about our road trips: they are woefully on-the-fly and stressful to the max. This wasn’t some last minute trip by any means, yet it still seemed like I was the only one packed and ready to go.

Because I was.

I took the day off work and everything, thinking we would leave as soon as Chooch was done with school, probably we would even swing by and throw him in the car on the way to Chicago rather than wait for him to walk the whole three blocks home.

But here’s what happened: Henry came home from work around 1pm and took a billion hour nap (even though I never let him sleep according to some people who apparently camp out in our bedroom closet and count his zzzzzz’s), and then Chooch came home from school and we just sat here wondering if we were ever going to leave or if we should just take an Uber to the airport and wing it.

Wing it, oh haha.

Henry eventually woke up and we left the house sometime around 4:30 (sigh) and then got swept up in some intense Labor Day traffic and it took us TWO HOURS just to get out of the dumb state. I was so fucking pissed.

But I was listening to Korean radio and that kept me from flipping my lid. And Chooch was reading some lame book for school so he was all nice and quiet too.

But then came the part of the trip that we all loathe: Food Foraging.

It shouldn’t be this hard! There are so many idiotic apps to help keep couples from splitting up/murdering each other over hunger wars. But every time Henry is like, “Find somewhere for us to eat” and I give him a dozen options, he’s always like, “WE’RE ON A TOLL ROAD! I CAN’T JUST TURN OFF ANYWHERE! THERE IS NO EXIT FOR ME TO TAKE!” and I’m like, “HELLO WHEN YOU TELL ME TO LOOK FOR A RESTAURANT, THAT IS LITERALLY JUST ONE THING TO CONSIDER: LOOKING FOR A PLACE THAT SERVES FOOD.” Now I’m supposed to read his mind (and a map!?) and find the most convenient grub shack for him to drive to? This is a lot of pressure. So then we had a huge fight about how demanding he is and how I need to learn to read a map and Chooch was like, “Oh, get over yourselves” and then we were going to just eat at a travel plaza but I threw a silent hissy fit inside and Henry was like, “LET’S ALL JUST STARVE! FUCKING STARVE!”

Luckily, I found some joint in some Trump-lovin’ town in Ohio, where a potato festival was going on and everyone was dressed for a rodeo, but Henry was all, “WE ARE NOT EATING HERE” because just a quick drive-by determined that it was some shady dive bar with an obligatory cigarette-smoking farmhand-looking son of a bitch slinking in the doorway. But just around the block was option #2: Jake’s.

Everyone inside knew each other of course, but I didn’t give a fuck because of all things for this rural shit-town in Ohio to have, there was a veggie burger on the menu. And not just any pre-packaged Boca Burger bullshit, but a HOMEMADE VEGGIE BURGER. Chooch and I both ordered that and the waitress was shocked because I guess it’s weird for someone to order something and then the next person to say, “Same”? Whatevs.

“You having the same thing too?” she asked Henry, tone slightly elevated.

But then Henry bucked the trend by ordering a plate of meat.

Anyway, the veggie burger was SO GOOD AND HOMEMADE-Y, but Chooch and I deducted points when we saw it was served on a fucking sandwich thin, like who does that? Henry’s burger was all snug inside a cushiony dough cloud and we were like, “WOW, THAT’S NICE. FUCKING VEGETARIAN PREJUDISTS!”

I might be inclined to stop back at Jake’s sometime to try their HOMEMADE PEANUT BUTTER PIE on for size.

After dinner I took some cliché pictures of the sunset because there was nothing else to do aside from talking to Henry and that’s just ew. I also played with filters on Snow, because I’m 15.

I wish my eyeballs were really that big, but I am already told occasionally that I look like a cartoon so why gild the lily, I guess.

Here is where shit gets really exciting: the sky was getting darker and darker and Henry STILL DID NOT HAVE A PLACE FOR US TO STAY. The plan was to drive to Indiana and get a hotel and then continue on to Chicago the next morning, but I guess Henry didn’t think to follow through with that plan by booking a hotel, so that’s cool, because you know—LABOR DAY WEEKEND. Finally, it was nearly midnight when Henry booked a “hotel” called the American Inn or something generic like that, right along the border of Indiana and Michigan. I don’t think I ever knew the name of the town but now Henry is saying, “Oh you know….um…uh, and the biker thing is always there…”

Sturgis.

Nope, I don’t know that, Henry.

Anyway, we get to the dumpy American Inn and Henry is told that they have NO VACANCY and that they “told booking.com as such” so they don’t know why we were able to book a room there. Henry came back out and called Booking.com, who looked up the information and laughed because they had NO RECORD of this asshole innkeeper ever calling them or logging into the account to mark it as sold out. So that’s great. But the lady on the phone was so nice and said that she was going to try and get permission from her manager to comp us a stay at another hotel in the area. She wanted to put us up at some nearly-$200/a night Best Western but Henry was hesitant to take her up on that because she wanted him to p at up front and then email them the receipt, at which point we’d be credited. Henry was like, “Fuck that” and found a Super 8 down the street with one room left, and it was only like $79, and bitch please, we don’t want to be spending a ton of money at a place that’s literally a pit-stop. Even I, Erin Rachelle Kelly, am capable of sucking it up for one night. However, the Super 8 ended up being very clean and pleasant! I was very impressed. We had two “doubles” though, which were more like twins, and that was not great, but whatever.

It’s a good thing that Henry didn’t take that booking bitch up on her Best Western offer because he woke up the next to an email from her saying that she was able to “comp the difference” if he emailed the receipt, so we still would have had to pay about $150!

I was so irritated about that. And at Henry for not planning ahead.

But here is where he would say something patronizing, such as, “YOU’RE WELCOME TO HANDLE IT ALL NEXT TIME!” And ew, I only handle the Roadside America portion of our road trips, thanks.

And this concludes a very boring post about our Friday Night Forever Drive.

So we’ve been in Chicago all weekend. I didn’t liveblog our drive here because it was boring, but now we’re leaving and I think I will keep my blog abreast of all actions because what else do I have to do other than talk Henry’s ear off about S.Korea. 

It’s 8:06am (Central time or whatever). We just checked out of the Chicago Loop Hotel (it was a decent headrest) and are now on the prowl for breakfast (for me: COFFEE). This trip was rife with highs and lows but mostly I’m sad to be leaving because there just isn’t ever enough time (read:money) to do everything we want to do in any city we visit. 

8:52am: We’re at Harvey’s in Hammond, IN and it is overflowing with local flavor. Two old guys are sitting at the counter, jawing each other’s ears off about the cost of eggs and toast, and the one guys doesn’t really like Chinese food that much and only eats it about once a month. I do like Chinese food and only eat it about 5 times a year, so…he’s all fired up about some Sheriff now and if CHOOCH KICKS ME UNDER THE TABLE ONE MORE TIME IM LEAVING HIM HERE TO BE HARVEYS NEW BUSBOY. 

Omg the one guy’s name is Chester. This rules. 

9:16am: This was the best (and cheapest) breakfast we’ve had on this trip yet. I had a veggie skillet and it was perfect and filling. And our waitress was so friendly! Hammond, Indiana is cool. 

Then Chooch and I started fighting because I took a picture of the front of the restaurant and he was all, “it’s just a regular restaurant!” in that belittling sneer-voice of his, so I yelled, “WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO CRITICIZE ME” and henry was like, “Peace out, new residents of Hammond, Indiana” as he locked the car door on us and sped away into the horizon without us. 

10:58am: Wow long time no typey-type, blog-thang. We made a pit stop at the Carmelite Shrine in Hammond, IN after wanting to visit for the last three years when we’ve been out this way for Riot Fest but they’re only open on Sundays. This time Henry called ahead and was assured it would be open but it WASNT and long story short (this means I’ll regurgitate about 2900 words about it in a later blog post), I batted my eyes and got a friar to open it for us and it was better than I ever could have dreamt. 

So much more on this later. My heart is like swollen with religion right now. 

Right after, we stopped at a gas station and the car next to us was blasting old-school Chiodos and basically our Indiana experience has been pretty solid this morning. 

12:53pm: Switched back over to EST a bit ago apparently. Every time henry drives over the ripple strip (I call them ripple strips, not rumble strips, LAY OFF ME) I get that sped up THE END IS NIGH heartbeat and I’m not a fan. 

Meanwhile we’ve been listening to Hot Beat on Arirang Radio (Korean — this is what we did during the whole drive here on Friday) and the two DJs were doing this Korean-English skit and I feel like I know Korean so much more now. Sike. I only picked up on the words you, please, I’ll have, cafe, no, what, hello. 

That feeling when you need to learn how to learn. 

Sigh. 

2:20pm: We’ve been listening to BIGBANG for like the last hour because it always cycles back to BIGBANG in my household, which always leads to me asking Henry what his favorite BiGBANG song is to which he faithfully replies “I’m not sure” and then my follow-up question is always “Is it Cafe?” and he says no and then I ask him if he even likes that song at all and he shrugs and mumbles “It’s OK.” Ugh!!

Seeing them perform this song live is on my bucket list, please don’t let BIGBANG be done, dear Lord. I should have lit a fucking candle at that Carmelite Shrine place but HENRY didn’t have $3 on him, fuck. 

2:35pm: I’m trying to get Chooch to guest blog about all the injuries he sustained on this trip, from getting accidentally* smacked in the maw by Henry to falling down the steps at Trump Tower (oh, there’s so much to be said for that).

*Honestly with the way he backtalks us, we actually owed him that one. 

Henry tortures us by making us keep the windows down instead of “wasting gas” by using the A/C and I real like a slowly roasting turkey. It’s fucking hot today. 

3:13pm: Well here we are in Wauseon(???), Ohio at Ryan’s Restaurant which boasts a parking lot sparklin’ with motorcycles and that indescribable but recognizable stench of filthy food grease. Mm. Henry is obsessed with the fact that “there is a lot of traffic for such a small town.”

They also cater though in case you have a quilting bee that needs food. 

As a coleslaw connoisseur, I can say with confidence and authority that this is one of the most flavorless globs of cabbage I’ve ever tasted which was directly unproportional with the toe-curling bouquet of fermented farts when the waitress sent the cups clattering down on our table. 

Final review of Ryan’s: food was as expected and the service was superior – our waitress was so accommodating without us even asking for anything! I really liked her. She asked us if we went to the fair and we just blankly said no because ugh small talk. 

“Maybe that’s why there’s so much traffic…” Henry mused when she walked away. Omg get over it, Henry. 

4:03pm: We just drove past a house with a Confederate flag flapping grotesquely from the porch. “You can tell exactly where we are,” Henry said.

4:24pm: Henry is droning on about how you can get a $200 fine for passing a cop that’s pulled over on the side of the road and I was interested for a millisecond but then blocked him out because I’d rather hear “Island” by Winner and we’re not even to Toledo yet, please someone send a plane for me. 

4:56pm: Interesting rest stop. I asked for soy milk at Gloria Jeans and the girl cut me off to say, “We don’t have non-dairy here.” Like wow it’s 2017 but ok cool. Then when my banana bread latte was done, she put it on the counter without a single word and gave me this intensely hateful stare. Meanwhile, Henry was washing his hands in the bathroom next to a guy who blurted out STARBUCKS and Chooch wasted more money. 

Ugh so in case we’re ever meeting at a cafe and I’m not there yet and you decide to be a dear and order my drink for me, 90% of the time, I get a soy latte, no flavor, no sugar, etc. Just in case you needed to know. However, I decided to try this banana nut bread latte at Gloria Jeans because it said it was a new menu item and holy shit it was like drinking straight syrup and I feel like I actually might puke out the car window right now. Thank god I only got a small. 

6:27pm: Still two more fucking hours to go and I want to cry. Chooch is being such a royal douche and Henry keeps sneezing so now I probably have SARS or whatever the current viral trend is. I have too much to keep up with! Like kpop comebacks and antique wheelchair auctions on eBay. 

But Chooch just saw a Lamborghini so now he’s happy. 

7:04pm: In case you care, Henry & I just discussed Trump overturning DACA (just in case there was anyone left who needed convinced that he’s the Greatest American Villain) and also Taylor Swift getting booed by her fans for not kissing their asses while she was trying to live a normal life long enough to be a bridesmaid in her friend’s wedding. We keep it balanced. 

7:26pm: Listening to Good Morning, Seoul analyze American coverage of North Korea’s nuclearization and then Henry and Chooch choose this moment to start talking about dumb shit and I’m like ARE U FUCKING KIDDING STFU. Guys you can just go ahead and say it: the US President is a fucking dipshit who is going to tweet us into a brand new world war. 

I hope that when that happens, the rest of the world remembers that Trump did not win the popular vote. 

8:02pm: hey guys we’re still driving but I am here to give an important message regarding liveblogs. Let me back up. We ate breakfast at some Greek joint on Saturday and I mentioned that it reminded me of another place we ate breakfast at in another city but I couldn’t remember where. I eventually whittled the memory down to a time that Chooch wasn’t with us, and from there I deduced that it must have been when we went to Maryland last year to see the Cure. “oh I’ll just check my blog then,” I said. But there is NOTHING on my blog, and then I remembered it was because I didn’t liveblog our drive home because this was the day after my eyeball almost fell out at the Cure show. Funnily though, I never even took a picture of my food (WHAT KIND OF ALIEN HAD TAKEN OVER MY BODY?!) so there’s no geo-tag anywhere and we can’t find anything on Yelp and the only other hope is reactivating Facebook to see if I checked in or looking through our bank statements but….we don’t really care that much. MORAL: sometimes liveblogging has worth, you guys. 

Lol, just kidding. No it doesn’t. 

In other news, Chooch’s favorite part of this trip was “hard to say, I don’t know” and Henry’s was “I don’t know I’ll have to think about it nothing really stands out.”

That’s fine because my favorite part doesn’t include either one of those of milquetoast duds (yes duds not dudes): it was the Taeyang concert! So so so good. 

8:44pm: Well we’re home now and I’ll tell you what’s really awesome is pulling onto the street and seeing a cop in front of our house and FUCKING PANICKING and then finding out that OUR NUTSO NEIGHBOR CALLED THE POLICE BECAUSE A CAR IS VERY MINUTELY BLOCKING THE DRIVEWAY. 

Now Henry is white knighting the neighbor who called the police because we should be happy that “someone is looking out” and I’m like SHE ISNT LOOKING OUT FOR ANYONE SHE JUST WANTS A REASON TO COMPLAIN. 

Welcome back to Brookline. 

<3<3<3

While everyone was eating, some Kennywood band started setting up near us and Haley said, “Yep, time to leave.” Thank god! I get so antsy when we sit for too long at amusement parks!

It was about 785 degrees out on this day, so hot and humid that Chooch and I were drenched in sweat just from sitting. Beads of perspiration rolled down my back in 5 second intervals and I internally cried to the gods, “WHY DID YOU MAKE MY SWEAT GLANDS SUCH OVERACHIEVERS?!” It’s just mean.

Our caravan began it’s slow stutter-walk toward Lost Kennywood. There was chatter about which ride we should go on, the Pirate Ship or the Phantom, and I personally didn’t want to go on the Phantom right that second because we had already ridden it, but the Phantom won out and I just had a feeling.

That sickening belly-nag.

The sky was starting to look straight-up foreboding, my friends. I half-expected that Kennywood guy sitting at the entrance of the line to say something about it, something like, “Yinz guys should go ride the Music Express or something because this bitch is getting shut down here rill soon n’ at.”

But nope, he just gave us blank looks and allowed us to pass.

The line was a lot longer than it was when Chooch and I rode it earlier with Henry, but we trudged along until we couldn’t go any further. This put us behind a young couple from one of the high school bands and at first I was like, “Aw, look at these band nerds in love” (I can say that because I was in band, too). Literally, they looked like they were normal people who were dressed up band geeks for Halloween. The girl especially looked like she had a hidden prettiness, like she was dying to star in a real life version of one of those predictable teen makeover movies. She’s All That, or if I want to date myself, SHE’S OUT OF CONTROL which starred Mickey Dolenz’s daughter! I saw that movie in the theater with my friend Spring and I thought it was so great and it gave me hope that someday I would grow out of my ugly duckling phase.

(Spoiler: I never did. Have you seen me?)

So back to the Phantom. These fucking kids went from “aw” to “awful” really fast. Their PDA was so out of control that I was starting to dig my fingernails into my palms. The boy kissed the girl after EVERY SENTENCE. These disgusting little kisses on her nose, lips, cheek, shoulder, neck, head. And then she would do it back and it was like being a fucking farm watching chickens peck at each other.

“I like water rides,” she said. *KISS*

“I like water rides too!” he said. *KISS*

“OMG we should go on a water ride!” *KISS*

“I agree!” *KISSKISSKISSKISSUGHFUCKYOU*

I tried to get Haley to switch spots with me but she was like, “Girl, I will fucking kill them.”

It was so out of control! Their conversation was so banal (because this is real life high school and not Dawson’s Creek where they look at the stars and talk about paradigms) and did not warrant such flagrant, superfluous affection, like each precious peck was some uncomfortable form of punctuation that English teachers omit from their curriculum because it’s gross. 

We moved up enough in line to where it was almost time to pick which car we wanted to sit in and then get in the appropriate line. Blake asked where I wanted to go and I was like FAR AWAY FROM THESE OVERACTIVE LIPSMACKERS OVER HERE.

But as it turns out, we wouldn’t have a chance to go any further because an announcement was made saying that the Phantom was temporarily shutting down due to the approaching storm.

MOTHERFUCKER.

This was after about 30 minutes of already standing in line!

Some people opted to stay and wait it out, but we turned around and went to find Henry and Calvin, who had taken pre-shelter under a pavilion of Pedro’s Tacos, which was closed and now that I think about it, I don’t think I have ever seen that place open.

Henry the Meteorologist kept checking some storm tracker map thing and pointed out that it looked like it was going to be OK once this storm came through, that the rest of the day should be all clear. There were other storms behind the first one that was approaching us but Henry pointed out that it looked like they were going to pass around our location.

All of a sudden, the rain fell and people started screaming like it was acid dropping from buckets. We just laughed because come on, guys. It’s rain. This went on for several minutes, with more and more people squeezing into the pavilion with us. I turned my back for a second and got doused with what felt like a really rough wave, and everyone started SCREAMING and pushing each other further into the pavilion. I had no idea what was going on, but garbage cans had fallen over and were rolling violently along the wet ground, and the rain was coming down in what appeared to be curtains at this point.

We were right across from the Pittsburgh Plunge, which is a water ride, and I very naively thought that some sort of tidal wave had been created in the pool of water at the bottom of it and that’s what had hit us, but Henry was like, “No, stupid, the wind was so strong that it was making the rain fall sideways.”

It was intense! And of course this feels like a string of nonsense in light of Hurricane Harvey.

Some dumb bitch was standing near me, coddling her crying son who looked like he was at least 9, and loudly saying things like, “I KNOW, I KNOW. I HATE CROWDS! PEOPLE ARE SUCH IDIOTS” like excuse me, we’re all trying to stay safe here, and I personally didn’t witness any shoving or general jackassery.  Dumb bitch—your kid is basically an adult at this point, get a grip. Meanwhile, Haley was standing behind her, calmly holding Calvin and not panicking or shouting passive aggressive insults at everyone who wasn’t paying enough attention to her.

That lady was already under my skin before the rain even started falling because her face was a moving billboard of angry expressions.

After the storm, there was nothing to do but eat and play games. I remember back in the day, only certain rides would get shut down when it rained and then they would pretty much fire back up as soon as the storm passed.

“Yeah, but then that microburst blew the roof off the Whip and some lady sued,” Henry said.

“Someone sued for real?” I asked.

“Probably,” Henry shrugged. A logical assessment.

The greatest part though was that it cooled down so beautifully and felt like a brisk fall day. I wanted a maple latte badly though. 

I love/hate when they play games. On one hand, there is always something cute that I want them to win for me, but on the other hand, that’s S. Korea money going right down the shitter.

The fish pond is my favorite game! I love how it smells, and I love the sound the metal hook makes when it connects with one of the chunky plastic fish cruising on by with the “current.” It’s one of the things that hasn’t changed about Kennywood since I was a kid and I appreciate that so hard.

This girl was not amused by Chooch’s uncertainty and indecisiveness when it came to choosing fish to hook and I was waiting for her to reach in with her hand and pick for him. I feel like if you’re working one of those games, that one especially since it’s such a kid-centric game, you should have a more docile, friendly disposition?

I wanted Chooch to pick a plush popsicle, but he chose a cupcake instead. I was really disappointed but when he declared that he was giving it to Calvin, the disappointment was replaced with pride because no one made him do this, and it was basically the first time in three months that he acknowledged Calvin’s existence!

<3

Blake won a small pink poop for Calvin. 

An hour later, it started POURING again while we played the shooting game, which is also where I got angry at Henry because he will never properly teach me how to aim and I never hit any targets!

It was 3:00 by this point and we had basically done fuck-all, when a speaker crackled, followed by, “This is the voice of Kennywood….”

The park was officially closing at 4pm because an entire of fleet of storms was still en route to the area. 

SAD TUBA FOR REAL. 

But the upside is that we got rain tickets for next year! 

We still stayed put under an awning because it was torrentially downpouring and no one wanted to walk through that to the gate. This was how I learned courtesy of Haley that if you run through rain, you get more wet!

IS THAT TRUE?!

The rain slowed down long enough for Henry, Chooch and me to speedwalk to Goldent Nugget to grab ice cream cones for the crew but THEY WERE DONE SERVING ICE CREAM FOR THE DAY. 

WHYYYYY!?

I had to text Janna and tell her to JUST FORGET IT because she was going to meet us there after work. This could have been such a great day! We had the perfect group! But then HENRY made us go left instead of right AND LOOK WHAT HAPPENED. 

I never noticed this fire hydrant before. 

All was not lost though because Chooch ended up winning this plush unicorn on the way out, and Haley (who had craved candy apples during her whole pregnancy) snagged the last candy apple in the candy store by the exit. 

Small victories!

In conclusion, shitty weather but excellent company. 

I bet those fucking band dorks spent the whole afternoon kissing raindrops off each other ugh I’m so glad I never saw them again. 

Well, we managed to squeeze Kennywood in right before the end of the summer season, but it was pretty much a bust. We chose this day a month in advance to ensure that we could get the day off work and that Janna, Blake and Haley could make it too, but the bad thing about planning so far out is that none of us know what kind of stew to cook up in ye ol’ cauldron to foresee the weather.

Spoiler alert: it stormed hardcore halfway through the day.

But! We were able to enjoy a few hours before that happened and this post here will do its best to illustrate that.

This was the first time in two years that Henry was actually joining Chooch and me at Kennywood, since we don’t go on Father’s Day anymore. He wasn’t happy that Chooch and I have made our traditions in his absence, such as: getting there as soon as the park opens (Henry never took us there that early!) and going the supposed “long way” which is how I used to get to Kennywood as a kid.

“Yeah, because you lived in another part of town then and it made sense to go that way!” Henry tried to reason by YELLING IN HIS DAD-VOICE which always makes me turn up the music.

I got my way of course and we left about three hours earlier than Henry would have liked and went the “long way” through West Mifflin, god forbid.

We actually got there a little bit too early though because the gates hadn’t even opened yet and there were quite a few lines already formed. Henry was being SO ANNOYING, jumping from one line to the next, trying to find the shortest one and it was really embarrassing. Like who is ever that high-strung about getting inside Kennywood?

There was a fuckarow with the lines anyway, because a bunch of different high school bands were there and the one Kennywood ticket girl was trying to corral them all into one line and they were such dunces about it and of course out of every line there, the only one it affected was OURS, good job, Henry. Couldn’t have just stuck with the first line.

By the time we made it up to the front, she was still bitching about it.

“I don’t understand what was so hard about that,” she scoffed at me and also no one in particular. “All I asked them to do was stand together. They’re in a band! That’s literally their JOB, to STAND TOGETHER IN A LINE!” and I just cracked up so bad. It was a good start to the day!

Until we made it through the ticket gates and Henry made us go LEFT instead of RIGHT when we ALWAYS GO RIGHT. Never in my life have I gone LEFT—that’s the way we always LEAVE the park! Little did we know that he was setting the tone for the day, because everything had an air of unfamiliarity to it after that.

Blame Henry, all dingdong day long.

Once we made it through the tunnel into the park, Chooch and I screamed, “Exterminator!” and took off in that direction while Henry just dawdled behind us like a fucking farmer from the 50s. Half of the Peters Twp band seemed to have the same idea and I was trying to get Henry to speed it up so we wouldn’t stuck with them in line but nooooo, Henry was all, “Don’t run! Take your time! Slow down!”

OMG why did we bring him!?

Of course, we ended up smack in the middle of the band kids and it looked like it was going to be terrible because some of them were teetering on line-jumping, but then one of the kids in front of us asked me, “Do you guys want to go ahead of us so you’re not stuck in the middle of the band kids?” and I was like, “Bro? You reading my mind, bro?”

He did this grand flourish with his arm and we happily jumped ahead of them and it was WONDERFUL, THANK YOU KIND BAND NERD.

There were some others in front of but they weren’t a part of the clique I guess, and were mostly keeping to themselves. This is how I learned some new hand-slapping games that Chooch said he would play with me but I had stage-fright because it seemed difficult and I didn’t want to mess up in front of people! There was intense counting involved. Counting is not my strong-suit.

Neither is typing.

Or talking.

Or breathing.

Sigh.

(Or sighing.)

We had to wait in line for about 15 minutes for the ride to open since it was still early. But once it opened and we all moved inside (the Exterminator is an indoor coaster), the band kids got super rowdy and immediately started screaming at ear-fucking levels and Henry’s grimace was devouring his whole point. Then they started high-fiving their friends as they passed each other in the queue and I was giddy because one of them high-fived me too but then I realized later that maybe he was just preparing his hand for his bandmates behind us that he was about to pass.

But I was so eager to get a piece of that hot high-fiving action! I love high-fiving. High-fives over hugs.

I jokingly said that I was going to make Henry ride with those annoying kids and he said, “I already have annoying kids to ride with.”

Oh snap, pops.

Finally it was time for us to get on the ride and I was beyond stoked, doing a bunch of “me-me-me-me-me”s to warm up my throat for the radical levels of shrieking I was about to unleash as soon as the ride started. I LOVE SCREAMING MY FACE OFF ON RIDES. It’s kind of my THANG. I will scream to the point where I’m laughing too hard to scream and then I’m peeing too hard to laugh.

Fuck yeah, Exterminator!

I had to laugh though because during that whole ride, I was the only one vocalizing any sort of feeling: literally, it was just my dumb big mouth filling up that entire warehouse, and each car of band kids that passed us were somberly quiet. After all that commotion they caused in line!

After that ride, Chooch and I made Henry watch us ride the Swingshot, which I successfully scared/horrified/enraged everyone on it with us with my blood-curdling Kerrigan-cries of “WHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYY?!?!?!?!” and “OH MY GOD NO NO NO!!!! I FORGOT HOW AWFUL THIS IS!” before my finale of “rosary in tongues.”

“You’re so embarrassing,” Chooch muttered when the ride stopped and I happily announced to everyone that we survived.

Then we rode the Phantom’s Revenge, where Chooch viciously mocked me for initially calling it the Steel Phantom WHICH IS WHAT IT USED TO BE CALLED WHEN I WAS CHOOCH’S AGE, OK?! The line was still really short so we ran for the back because back is best, fuck the rest.

Henry had to ride alone and he said he was fine with that because we’re annoying.

(Chooch just barged into my blogging life and said, “How the hell can you write about Kennywood? We did nothing!!” I mean it’s almost true, but still—there’s always shit to say about Kennywood!)

On the Phantom, Chooch and I had the very last seat and Papa H sat in front of us. We fluffed his hair and made our presence known the whole way up the first hill, and I think Henry was seriously reevaluating some life decisions, especially as the coaster made it over the crest and my murder-moans kicked in.

I just can’t hold it in, OK?! There was one year that the Handas were with us and Chris was like,  “You are my new official soundtrack of the Phantom.” It’s just what I do, guys. I have the vocal chords of a fucking 1970s Scream Queen. 

Then we made Henry go into Noah’s Ark since he hasn’t seen it since it was renovated. Chooch and I ran like escaped zoo animals to the entrance and then had to stand there and wait for our slow-lumbering counterpart, so thanks for that, Henry.

You meandering asshole.

Henry wasn’t impressed with renovated Noah’s Ark. WELL GUESS WHAT I’M NOT IMPRESSED WITH HENRY.

OMG Chris gave me a heads up last month about the new waffle stand that Kennywood has. Normally I’m not a big amusement park eater (I prefer eating National Parks, instead) but I was like, “Hold up wait a minute, Henry give that boy all your money because mama wants some wafels with all the dinges whatever that means.”

Henry was annoyed because Blake had texted him and said that they were nearly there and Henry needed to meet them at the entrance because he had their tickets, and now I was throwing waffles in his path like perilous banana peels and he was mad because waffles weren’t even spelled right, OMG!

He paid for our waffles and then barked, “You assholes can wait for them by yourselves, I’m going to get Blake.”

OMG FAVORITISM. HENRY LOVES BLAKE MORE THAN US.

Anyway, it was worth it. My waffle had Speculoos on it (first dinge is free!) and Chooch had strawberries on his. We were in a fucking waffle ZONE by the time Henry emerged through the entrance tunnel with Blake, Haley and Calvin.

Calvin’s first trip to Kennywood! He was so stoked! You just can’t tell from this photo.

Immediately, we dragged Blake and Haley on the Skyrocket. I was getting impatient because I thought they were right behind us but they were still giving Henry instructions on how to babysit a sleeping baby in a stroller. While this was happening, some fucking family of hunters crawled out of a West Virginia holler and got in line in front of us, so we were stuck in their local yokel presence the whole time and I wanted to KILL the camo-clad patriarch, who dumped a bottle of water over his nasty son’s head, and then the kid proceeded to shake his head like a dog after a bath, spraying his sweat-juice all over me and I was in TEARS.

IT WAS SO SICKENING.

UGH PEOPLE.

And then the whole time, Chooch was under the impression that he was going to be sitting with Blake, until we got all the way to the front of the line and Haley was all, “Oh no, Blake’s riding with me.”

Oh man, these two have the best rivalry. I love spectating because I have nothing to lose in it!

Chooch was all dejected but I said, “YAY WE’RE BACK TOGETHER AGAIN!” and Chooch was like, “When are we ever NOT together?” as he begrudgingly climbed into the last car with me.

And this was when I realized that we had never gone to an amusement park with Haley before, because she seemed positively startled when the coaster shot up the first hill and I started screaming.

I heard her say to Blake, “Oh, I can’t with her!” LOLOLOLOL.

You can’t but you willlllll!!!!

Meanwhile, Henry was talking off Calvin’s ears about the Service and probably fishing in ponds and how to change a tire. Sterile Henry Tales.

After one whole ride, we took a time out so Haley could feed Calvin. We were all just standing in there in front of her, in an awkward semi-circle, and in my head I was like, “Can’t we like, walk and do this, I don’t understand.” I get really nervous when there’s too much standing over in an amusement park. I have shit to do!

I finally got them to walk toward the Jack Rabbit, where Blake handed over Calvin to Henry, who stood in the shade and fed him his bottle while we kids got to be kids.

I had to zoom in and crop, so this picture is shitty but there’s Henry pretending to be a single dad.

[Side bar: Chooch has been calling Blake “Blook” for the last year now I guess because he has this weird quirk where he enjoys replacing vowel sounds, and I found myself slipping and saying “Blook” the other day and I felt like such a loser.]

Haley called the first seat when the line was cut off right in front of us. That’s always the best feeling because you know when the next coaster rolls up, you get dibs on whichever seat you want! But Chooch was all, “No we’re getting the front seat!” and Haley cried, “Us moms get first choice!” and I was like “Us moms? Who is she talking about….oh, lol, me.”

But as you can see, Chooch has literally no soft spot for mothers and viciously blocked us from the front seat. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted the front seat until that moment!

This was when I realized that Haley’s hatred of Chooch had distracted her from buckling our seatbelt and even though I’m smiling in this picture, I remember that in my head I was like, “HURRY UP BEFORE WE DIEEEEEE.”

We spent the whole ride flicking and pulling Blake and Chooch’s hair. THAT’LL SHOW THEM.

Haley and Blake had a list as long as Santa’s with all the food they needed to eat that day, so instead of continuing to ride, we took a time out to get food. Chooch and I weren’t hungry and wanted to keep riding, but the adults were like, “Calm down, kids, let the grown-ups eat.”

Ughhhh.

Chooch tried to get Blake to ditch the food foragers and come ride something with us, but Haley was like,, “No. Blake needs to get in line for Potato Patch while I’m in line for a corn dog” and Chooch looked so sad. I put my arm around him and said, “It’s OK, little buddy. You still have me! I’ll ride with you!” and a halo of blue birds flew around his head chirping, “FML FML FML.”

I wanted to ride the Thunderbolt while everyone else was standing in various food lines, but Chooch is like obsessed with Blake and needed to keep him in sight I guess, so we rode the Turtles instead.

It may have been the saddest ride on the Turtles of all time. Also, it was a really long ride! I was really into it at first but it went around about 10 times too much and I started to feel green.

The grown-ups had a table ready for us by the time we were sufficiently Turtled, and this would end up being one of the last dry moments of the day.

Le sigh.

I’ll end here with this picture of Henry leering perversely at his corn-breaded wiener. Part 2 coming soon!

On the last Saturday of August, I met Jeannie, Wendy, and Summer at Pamela’s for breakfast.

This is how I learned through casual conversation that Barb is taking a creative writing class! I was really excited when Jeannie mentioned this but then I blurted out, “She better not plagiarize me!”

Then Jeannie found out that I’m no longer on Facebook and she was shocked, but also happy. “Now we can finally be friends!” she said, since we’re basically the only two people in the world who aren’t on Facebook now.

I started gushing about how great it’s been being off it, no politcal drama, no constant disappointment when you realize how many racists you went to high school with, no more mindless scrolling through the same posts over and over in your feed instead of living life. Yes, I’m still on other social media, but those platforms have never threatened to consume me the way Facebook did.

“It’s really refreshing when you run into a friend and when you ask them what they’ve been up to, you REALLG MEAN IT because you no longer know every single thought and movement of your friends,” I explained. “It’s like, going back to basics.”

Wendy nodded and said, “Yeah I hate it when you’re talking to someone and they’re like ‘didn’t you see my post?'”

I started laughing and admitted that I used to be like that with my blog. “‘Didn’t you read my blog???’ I’d say whenever someone  didn’t know what was going on with me.”

“I only read Barb’s blog,” Jeannie said dryly and I almost spit up my Lyonnaise potatoes all over Summer. I WISH BARB HAD A BLOG! (Hint hint Barb!)

You’ll never believe this but the rest of Saturday was spent at home! Henry finally started getting some work done in the kitchen, I went for a million walks, we went and got coffee at one point at Cafe Noir and Henry dropped a chocolate chip cookie on the sidewalk and THEN ATE IT.

OFF THE GROUND IN BROOKLINE. Lord knows how many junkies puked on that square inch of sidewalk. Good one, Henry.

Oh and Chooch also got his hair cut – all of these were accomplished by walking to Brookline Boulevard and when I complain about Brookline, I always have to check myself and remember how motherfucking convenient everything is.

(Just wish they would get a Korean restaurant.)

Off topic: I fucking hate that Sam Hunt “Body Like A Backroad” song so much. Every time I hear it on the radio, I am instantly filled with rage and lunge to turn it off (we had to listen to the radio A LOT when we were trying to win those Shawn Mendes tickets ugh).  I was ranting about it to Henry and said that if anyone told me I had a body like a backroad, I would be so offended because what–my body is dusty and bumpy?!

“I think he’s trying to say that he knows her body like he knows a backroad, like the back of his hand. Like, the curves in a backroad,” Henry calmly explained.

DONT BE A COUNTRY MUSIC APOLOGIST, YEE-HAW HANK.

Henry: FML

Mannequin Henry: Same. 

Saturday night, we watched an episode of Goblin and then I probably went for another walk. I’m training to be the next Crazy Lady of Brookline. I know what you’re thinking and you’re right, I probably don’t need much training.

*******

Sunday morning, I was still lounging around in bed when the DJ on the Korean radio station I listen to started saying words that sounded familiar and then I realized that the other day she asked people to write in and tell her how Kpop changed their lives so I did (natch) and SHE WAS READING MY STORY! I was actually in the middle of talking about how tall Lee Gwang Soo is because of course I was talking g about a Korean TV personality while listening to Korean radio, when I interrupted myself to blurt out, “HEY THATS ME!!” Henry murmured, “Oh my god,” Bob’s Burger-style

It was a really special moment for me!

Then we dropped Chooch off at his piano lesson and hit up the Asian markets. Right away, I saw these curious things on branches in the produce section and immediately wanted to buy them. The thing you should know about Asian markets is that sometimes you will see things labeled in English, but mostly the produce is hand-written in Chinese. I can read Korean, but Chinese characters are waaaaay out of my wheelhouse. These particularly fruit-balls were not marked in English, but while we were gawking at them, a Chinese man reached in front of us and grabbed two red bags of the things. Henry asked him what they were and the man just laughed and said, “I don’t know but they taste good!”

That was a ringing enough of an endorsement for me so I grabbed a sack and then Henry found our favorite grocer who informed us that they’re yellow dates. I googled and it said you could eat them just as they are, even though they hadn’t yet turned soft, brown and wrinkly. (There’s an old man ball joke in there somewhere but I’m all out of humor after doing kpop workouts for like two hours tonight.)

We sat in the car and dared each other to take the first bite. Eventually we both went for it and holy shit, new favorite fruit. It had the crunch of an apple, a slight astringent bite of a persimmon, and a wonderfully sweet aftertaste of date.

They are so delicious and addicting!

The moral is: don’t be afraid to ask someone what things are when you’re at some type of ethnic grocery store. This is also how Henry and I discovered that baby taro is the BOMB.

I was just at one of the other Asian markets last week on my lunch break (there’s one that’s close enough for me to walk to, but my favorite one is several blocks farther away and I’d never make it back in time, so sad). I wanted to grab some more candy for the pumpkin at work, but there were some white people there acting like typical American assholes, loudly making fun of the candy and I just didn’t want to be associated with them. Just imagine all the delicious things they’re missing out on.

After Chooch’s lesson, we went to Spirit for their Sunday brunch. I’m not a fan of brunch or buffets (I know, what kind of anomaly am I), but we settled on Spirit because their veg options seemed tight. I was worried that the vibe was going to be off-putting since this place is also a music venue (of the hipster variety) but the atmosphere was dark and on point—exactly the kind of ambiance I like in a restaurant.

Chooch immediately went to check out the bathroom and reported that it was “nothing special, kind of like the ones at the Altar Bar.” Because my 11-year-old knows his music venue bathrooms, guys.

The buffet was pretty lit (Chooch hates it when I say that because I’m apparently not supposed to know that word since I’m A Mom) and there were more meatless options than anything else, really. Three different types of salads, hummus, yogurt, rice pudding, lemon beignets (God yes),- pizza bar, quiche, French toast sticks….just all kinds of wondrous brunch fare.

I think it was the first time I actually ate my money’s worth too. It may not seem like it on the outside, but my stomach is way too small for buffets.

I didn’t eat anything the rest of the day. :/

We had THE WORST service though, considering all our server had to do was bring us our drinks and check. It was ludicrous how neglected we were. Other people were annoyed too, and some broad at a table nearby crumbled up her check and walked out because all she cared about was the sausage and potatoes and it was never refilled or something, I don’t care about other people’s problems.

The bottomline for me is that I enjoyed the ambiance and food enough to give it another try but we better have a different server and my fucking coffee better actually be bottomless like the menu says, considering this is the most important part of a meal for me and I didn’t get my cup until I WAS ALMOST DONE EATING ARE YOU KIDDING YOU HAVE ONE JOB LADY!

(Side note: Chooch thought he was so cool because he ordered a Snakebite, which was some kind of ginger-spiked OJ. We didn’t think he would like it, but he drank the whole damn thing.)

Forever making him stand in front of walls.

After lunch, we went to visit Patty, who gets to come home on September 24th! This is huge news and I’m so stoked for her! She’s been at this particular long-term care facility for nearly a year now and she has made so much progress. (Unfriendly reminder for cancer to go get fucked.)

In the activity room, Patty strong-armed Chooch to play something on the piano for all the elderly women sitting around the table. He finally sat down and plucked out this little ditty from memory like it ain’t no thang:

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I sent this to his piano teacher yesterday and she was so thrilled! I love how great the two of them work together. When I went to get him on Sunday, I caught the tail end of her teaching him the drum parts to Yellowcard’s “Ocean Avenue.” She is so fucking cool!

After Chooch entertained the ladies, we went to an empty rec room and played Joking Hazard while Henry sat down and IMMEDIATELY fell asleep. At one point, some man in his nineties came in and rifled through the newspapers on the table near Henry and I started cracking up because that dude looked like he had way more energy than our slumbering hero. I told Henry later that while he was sleeping, one of the orderlies came in and asked us if we wanted her to take him back to his room, and he believed me.

“They could have taken me to a room,” Henry said with a shrug, and then got this far-away look in his eyes as though he was fantasizing about having a secret room in a nursing home where he could sleep as much as he wanted without Chooch and me waking him up because we need fed or burped or whatever.

It took forever to get home because nearly every way out of the city is under construction. Henry kept shouting, “FUCK YOU!!” every time he’d come upon another road closure. He’s usually on his detour game, but not on this day. I was actually starting to feel anxious, like we were in a bad horror movie. Welcome to Pittsburgh, where there’s NO WAY OUT.

We did eventually make it home and I went for a…WAIT FOR IT…walk. This time, I walked around a part of Brookline I don’t generally visit, and on one of the streets, I heard these kids yelling about a hug, but you know me, I ignore the frequency of a child’s voice.

But the yelling persisted, and that’s when I realized that these two little kids in a yard across the street were asking me for a hug.

LOL, PASS.

But their screams were getting louder until finally I stopped and gave them an air-hug from across the street, because that’s the kind of dick I am. They weren’t buying it and demanded that I give them a real hug.

Look. It’s 2017. Even if I enjoyed the act of hugging another human, it gets tricky when that other person is not a kid, but a KID STRANGER. Who knows what someone would think if they happened to look out their window. Sad, right, that we even have to think that way in this day and age.

I decided that we could at least high-five, so I crossed the street and walked over to them. Their yard was bordered by a retaining wall, so I was pretty much eye level with this little brother and sister pair of hug-obsessers, who appeared to be maybe 3 and 4. But after high-fiving, they GANG-HUGGED ME. I had no chance! The little boy was actually hanging off me and I was like, “WHOA HAHA OK DOWN!” and had to actually pry these children off me torso.

IT WAS HORRIFYING.

UGH KIDS!!

The girl happily asked me where I live and I stupidly told her and then stopped myself because WAS I BEING KID-NAPPED?! I had no idea what was going on, but they were so friendly and I think they wanted to keep me and I wasn’t down with that. I told them I had to go home and, in my own awkward way, tried to coax them further back into their yard. “Uh, don’t come out into the street. Try to, like, you know, stay safe,” I mumbled as I turned to walk away. And then the boy started crying, like legit wailing, “No don’t go! Come back!” and my anxiety went through the roof. The voice in my head was all, “FUCKING RUN. RUN RUN FUCKITYFUCKFUCK RUN!” Was that his signal for the rest of the neighborhood kids to fall from boughs and emerge from manholes, pulling their ropes taut and cocking their BB guns?!

Eventually, he stopped screaming and when I risked one last furtive glance over my shoulder they had gone back to calmly playing whatever they were playing before they spotted the naïve-looking girl with the Pusheen wallet hanging off her shorts.

And then my hand instinctively reached for said wallet because WAS THIS A PICKPOCKETING PLOY FROM BROOKLINE GYPSIES? But no, everything was intact.

Super creepy though.

Now I’m wondering IF THEY WERE ACTUALLY GHOSTS???

And then the weekend ended with Game of Thrones, while Chooch diligently and slightly obsessively organized his backpack for the first day of sixth grade. I know summer isn’t technically over yet as far as the calendar is concerned, but it might as well be. :(

I know, I know: parents do this every year. “Wah, my kid is growing up” blah blah blah. It’s still a little bit of a shock to the system though when you send your kid off to the first day of school and then think to yourself, “Fuck, I’m a mom of a MIDDLESCHOOLER” and then you feel all self-pitying and pathetic and cry a lot but take consolation in the fact that now that he wears a boys’ large, you can actually fit into some of his clothes and that denim vest is LOOKING MIGHTY FINE.  

I mean, this isn’t about me, this about my BEAUTIFUL GROWING BOY. 

I can’t wait to fill this vest with pins—oooh I can make a patch that says MOMMY & CHOOCH 4L!

Um, anyway. Here’s hoping that sixth grade goes as smoothly as fifth grade did. (Of course he got the teacher that requires about $150 in supplies when all the other ones just have “pencils and paper” listed. 

Ugh middle school. 

I have been trying to get this dumb bulletpointed photo dump written for two weeks now but….distractions. For instance, right now I’m typing this on my phone while watching videos from KCON LA and I keep pausing to tell Henry things like “I like this song. Do you like them? This stage was better at KCON NY. That guy is from Chicago. He’s from Hong Kong.” And Henry is a better person now for knowing these things.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that there will be typos. And I know I’m forgetting shit that seemed so blog-worthy at the moment BUT I GUESS MY LIFE IS REALLY JUST BLAND AFTER ALL.

• Henry bought me that difficult oatmeal again after I told him not to because it requires too much effort to make. I thought I had it down pat though, the whole “heat for 30 seconds, stir, repeat until you quit caring” technique, but then CHERYL came into the kitchen while I had my face pressed against the microwave and asked what I was doing. WHAT DOES IT LOOKS LIKE CHERYL IM BABYSITTING MY LUNCH.

  So she decided this was a great time to strike up a conversation and I swear I only took my eyes off the kid for a second on the playground in the microwave when it EXPLODED and I cried, “UGH CHERYL LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!” So then I had to clean everything up which is my least favorite thing to do aside from probably getting murdered or whatever, and she was still like “Let’s talk about things!” As I was adding the mix-ins to my oatmeal (honey, cinnamon, etc) she was like, “Oh wow I never would have thought to add those things” and I felt like I was filming a COOKING SHOW, isn’t that horrifying? Me, a cooking show. Ugh. This oatmeal is not worth it.

• I referred to one of the neighbors as a “real CU next Tuesday,” which Chooch overheard and asked what it meant. Nothing, I said, which only made him persist, eventually to the point of begging. I couldn’t believe he didn’t already know because kid knows all the bad stuff. Eventually it occurred to him that this is what the Internet is for, emergencies like this, and I could tell by his ferocious giggle fit that he had surfed the Urban Dictionary wave. “Good one, Erin” henry sighed about Chooch said that’s what he’s going to call Markie’s mom from now on.

• We’re in the process of redecorating some areas of the house. I suggested adding blood spatter to the bathroom walls and henry said, “OK. Come here.” Snap. So far we have accomplished the wall behind the TV, and by now you know I mean that I told Henry what I want and he did it.
  https://instagram.com/p/BYPFUi1A1Ld/

• Chris hung out with us a few Fridays ago! She brought her yarn over and worked on a project while I made her watch Weekly Idol and taught her about aegyo and Chooch kept trying to pull her away from me because that’s what he does—steals friends. At one point, he grabbed my laptop and read things in Spanish using Google translate for Chris to translate because she is fluent in Spanish and that’s what she does for work–Spanish subtitling. He started to run out of sentences to type until I giddily whispered one in his ear. He started giggling too, and read the Spanish version of it for Chris, who sighed, “See you next Tuesday.” LOLOLOLOL, Chooch and I giggled like little school girls. After Chris left that night, I said to Henry, “She’s like REALLY good at Spanish.” “Well I should hope so,” he said. “It’s her JOB.”

• Two Sundays ago (god I’m a blogging slacker) I had a real big hunger tantrum after Chooch’s piano lesson and I’ll save you the gnarly details and skip to the end where we settled on some veg-friendly sandwich shop in Oakland. As soon as we sat down, Henry took off for the bathroom and we were like WOW OK RUDE. Of course as soon as he went in there, some yuppie lady and her little girl needed to use it at that precise moment and acted all alarmed and confused as they tried in vain to twist the doorknob. “Figures, henry went in there to poop and now there’s a line,” I said, which made Chooch have a near medical emergency called EXTREME LAUGHING SEIZURES. So then I started laughing and Chooch fed off my laughter and was crying with a red face and it was SO LOUD that I wondered if the people working there were going to think I was burning him with a lighter under the table. Thank god, aside from the yuppie mom and her little brat that had to pee, we were the the only patrons there at that time. Because shit was escalating fast (in the bathroom too, I bet.) I texted Henry “Good job, you caused a line to form” and I thought Chooch actually vomit from mirth-tremors. Since this was not only about Henry but also loo-related, I texted my friend Alyson about his line-formation drama at the college sandwich shop and that made us the only three people in the world who found the humor in this.

Chooch made me take a picture of the bathroom door

• Fire on my street! This was last week, several houses down. Actually, it was Chooch’s enemy Jackie’s house and the crazy thing was the day before I ran into her and when I asked how she was doing, she sighed, “We’re all still here.” I moved to this street in 1999 and she was already living here so we’re like the only OGs left at this point. Then a day later, there was an electrical fire in her house. Luckily, no one was hurt. It happened early enough in the evening that her husband was able to catch it, but the firemen were still there for like three hours. Maybe just two. Time, like money, is not something I have a good grasp of.

• Glenn was choking the other day at work, like for a good while.

  At first I was just ignoring it, but then I suddenly got a surge of giddiness. I was trying to swallow them back to the point of tears, and then I gave up. Since it was obvious at this point that I was laughing at him, I turned around and, through gurgling giggles, said, “I’m so sorry Glenn, but I literally cannot stop laughing!”. When he finally got his choking under control, he wheezed, “It’s OK, I’m fine” and then I started cracking up all over again. Am I a sociopath?

  • Usually when I start laughing at everything, that means very soon I will be crying at everything so CANT WAIT. #BipolarAmusementPark
• I had dinner with Barb a few weeks ago, but it was hijacked by Chooch so I just sat there and sulked while he was all charming and entertaining. Ugh why can’t I be like Chooch?!

• We still have a POS POTUS.
• Totally falling in love with WANNA ONE. (KCON LA videos are still on ok?!)
  Target self-checkout helping Henry keep an eye on us.

• So, I didn’t care about the eclipse. Sue me. However, it was pretty fun at work during the height of it all when the obligatory Bonnie Tyler jam was played causing our director to come out of her office and say, “Seriously if I hear his song one more time today…” But then A-Ron let some of us use his special glasses and it was actually pretty cool. But enough people posted pictures on Instagram for me to have easily been OK with not partaking. And I guess none of Chooch’s YouTubers told him about it because he had no idea it was happening until I left for work and told him, as an afterthought, not to look ip during the eclipse. I mean, if ever there was a good time to start acting like a mom, right? (I ALSO MADE HIM BREAKFAST THAT DAY TOO, SO.) HNC came over with his welders glasses for Chooch to use and when I asked him after work if he enjoyed it, he slowly said, “I….guess…?”

• Rainier cherries and lychees, like you do. People think I only shop at the Asian markets because I’m all about Korea but the truth is that we’ve been hitting up the Asian markets for years because my fruit palate is so fucking refines, bitches. Save your bananas and grapes for your own self. (lol I’m not even actually this much of an asshole IRL I promise.)

• The zealots have been out in full force downtown lately. I got this awesome Satan pamphlet from the Witnesses (after everyone in front of me was like NOPE) and then a few days later, I was approached for the first time ever by someone from the CHURCH OF SCIENTOLOGY! They gave me a brochure with a personality test inside and I’m going to put myself in Glenn’s shoes and fill it out. I already sent back the “SEND ME MORE INFO” portion of the Satan thing with Glenn’s address on it. Maybe I just helped him choose a path. You don’t know.

• We randomly visited the Cathedral of Learning a few Sundays ago, right on the heels of Chooch’s and my laugh-attack over Henry causing a line-up outside of the bathroom at Unique Eats. Needless to say, we were super sensitive to everything and kept cracking up vociferously, causing Henry to go to the restroom and THEN DITCH US. He said he knew where we were the whole time because hello—-Cathedral. Our cackles echoed all over. Everyone knew where we were. I was excited to go to the Korean room though! The last time I was there, I hadn’t imprinted on Korea yet.

(After we discovered Henry, from three floors up.)

• Yesterday, Chooch came in the house and said abruptly, “I was just thinking about Drew dying and now I want to spend all my time with her!” as big fat tears squirted out of his eyeballs. Then he collapsed on the chaise with her and straight sobbed. It was heartbreaking.

And on that note! Go hug an animal or something. Goodnight.

With Erin & Chooch

I volunteered to work the last three Friday late shifts for August because we get to work those from home and I thought to myself, “Golly wouldn’t it be swell to spend some of these last summer Fridays with my little baby boy?!” 

Lol. 

On every one of these Fridays, we went out for breakfast. And that is what this blog post is about, ok?

On the first Friday, we walked to Orbis Cafe in Mt. Lebanon. It took about 25-30 minutes to get there but it was a beautiful, mild summer morning so we didn’t show up sopping with sweat or anything. Don’t worry. 

Hilariously, we had just been joking around at work about someone who listed “third wave coffee” as an interest on their resume, and now here I was, at a cafe that totally promoted that movement, what with their multiple, confusing brewing options. 

I panicked and just got a pour over,  because I was only familiar with that and French press. Then I had to choose a coffee blend and it was a real high-anxiety experience, almost as bad as waiting for public transportation or being randomly called on in class. 

I’m easily rattled ok?!

I’m conflicted with this place. The two women working that day were pleasant but the service was…..

Just not that wonderful. For starters, I stood at the counter the entire time the one barista was making my pourover because I noticed other people standing around too. I had Chooch grab us a table while I continued waiting. 

I stood there for at least 8 minutes before one of the girls walked out from behind the counter and brought Chooch’s breakfast to him (fruit and nut yogurt, and a bagel which he could have had at home but whatever). 

Apparently the people standing around were waiting for their to-go drinks. I didn’t have to be standing there at all, yet neither of the two baristas said anything to me, or even asked me if I needed something! THEY JUST LET ME STAND THERE LIKE A LOST SHEEP. 

So I went and sat down with Chooch, feeling stupid and completely spotlighted. It was about 15 minutes later when I had finished my coffee and he had finished his breakfast, when I started to hard-core wonder where the hell my breakfast wrap was. I kept looking over shoulder at the counter and couldn’t tell if it was still being heated up or what. 

“I mean, I DID order it right?” And of course Chooch made me doubt that my order had gone any further than just being a thought in my head. But then I started doing the math and confirmed that I definitely paid for it. 

I was about to go up to the counter and just ask for a refund (or possibly a CHEMEX) when one of the baristas started asking, “Breakfast wrap?” to every table she walked past. Then she met my eyes and suddenly realized that it was mine and she had FORGOTTEN ABOUT IT. 

“I’m so sorry!” she said, setting down the lukewarm wrap in front of me. It had obviously been abandoned on the counter for quite some time. 

I’d give them a free pass if the joint had been exceptionally busy but it was boasting a basic hustle and bustle that morning. 

They’re lucky I’m a sell-out and all up on the Third Wave Coffee train now because their pourover was EXCEPTIONAL and just delicious enough to not only drink black, but to forgive them for their wrap-dementia. 

I’ll be back for coffee but not breakfast. (Although their display of baked goods looked pretty good.)

For our second Friday, we were treated with a very heavy downpour. We tried to wait it out as long as possible but we were both swinging from hunger’s lunacy fringe so we left the house with our one shared umbrella and dealt with it. 

Everything was mostly fine. We walked past our old neighbor who didn’t go very far—just down the street—and a split second after cutely saying hello (she loves us and thinks we look like twins so take that everyone who always says that they see no resemblance) we were puddle-splashed in the most dramatic fashion by some FUCKSTICK in a truck.

Even if we had been double-umbrella’d, there was no protection from that one. 

So that was swell!

We reluctantly opted for Dorstop this time. I say reluctantly for two reasons:

• Dorstop is majorly over-rated and their figurative head is entirely too enlarged from That One Time they were featured on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives like 10 years ago. 
• We’ve been anxiously awaiting this one place called Parker’s to open. They used to be across the sreeet from Dorstop in Dormont, but they moved to a great spot on Brookline Blvd — basically still the same walking disgance for us but we spend more time walking on Brookline Blvd than we do on the street where they used to be located, plus this new spot is bigger! We always chide Henry because he’s never been to Parker’s so we treat it like it’s a club he doesn’t belong to. “You act like you guys were regulars there but you only ate there like theee times.” Twice, and both times were memorable because PARKER HIMSELF talked to us and he is AWESOME and no I DONT HAVE A CRUSH ON HIM OK I DO.

I mean. 

So we begrudgingly went to Dorstop and I was just really happy to get away from the rain. Of course it was packed, even on a weekday morning, because Guy Fieri ate there once, y’all. 

:|

Of course everyone turned to look at us when the bells on the door jingled and I hadn’t even told them Large Marge sent us yet. 

 Right off the bat, a synthetic ginger broad asked us how many in a disgruntled grumble, coupled with a very surly, “Follow me.”

I was ready to walk the fuck out because what a rude twat. But…rain. 

Luckily we had a nice young waitress who gave me coffee immediately and our food was fine. (I had potato pancakes; Chooch had an omelette which wasn’t nearly as good as the one he had at The Twist, the one that had him throwing down glitter on “Honk If You Love Artichokes” signs.)

It was fine but I would never recommend it nor would I take any out-of-town guests there. 

Which brings us to today…

Our last Friday Breakfast Club meeting for the foreseeable future. :(

Me: I’m sad that this is our last day of Friday Breakfast Club.

Chooch: We literally only went to breakfast three times, though—how is that a club?!

Ugh shut up Chooch. 

This time we went to Tom’s. We could have went there last week instead of Dorstop but we had eaten at Tom’s for dinner (WITH BARB, UGH BARB) two nights before. 

I originally suggested Cain’s Saloon which is open early on Fridays for breakfast (allegedly) but Chooch was all, “Um I feel like that’s a place that daddy would want to go to with us so we should just go to Tom’s” and I’m not a fool I know it’s because Cain’s is a longer walk and he was itchin’ to get home and play with his dumb friends. 

NO ONE IS BETTER THAN MOMMY, CHOOCH—NO ONE!!! I WONT LET THEM TAKE U AWAY FROM ME!

But yeah! Anyway! You know! Can’t go wrong with Tom’s! I had the Greek eggs Benedict and Chooch had eggs and home fries I guess. All I remember is him complaining about the nerve of restaurants that serve jelly packets with their toast, assuming that everyone uses jelly. 

Turns out Chooch is not a fan of jelly on his toast. 

“It just belongs on PB&J and nothing else,” he shared with me and I BET HIS DUMB FRIENDS ALREADY KNOW ABOUT THAT DONT THEY? I AM SO OUT OF TOUCH. 

I’m not having feelings about him starting sixth grade on Monday. Pfft. That’s you,  not me. 

UGH JUST GO AWAY. 

My mom dropped off a belated birthday gift for me last night, but she was so sure I wouldn’t like it that she had Chooch come out to get it so that she wouldn’t have to see my disappointment when I opened it.

First of all, I wasn’t expecting anything so the very idea that she thought to get me a present meant enough in itself!

Second of all, SHE IS FREAKING NUTS because when I saw what it was, I literally screamed like a little girl and waved it around for Henry and Chooch to see:

A little G-Dragon doll! I love him so much!

Of course I brought him to work today to show people. Lauren got all teary-eyed because she thought it was a such a sweet gesture from my mom, and Amber thought it was super adorable too. Then when I sat down at my desk, Glenn mumbled, “What? I don’t get to see your doll, too? Because you think I’ll make fun of it?”

“UM YEAH, THAT’S EXACTLY WHY, GLENN!” I spat. But then I whirled around in my seat and said, “OK FINE YOU SEE IT!”

And even Glenn, naysayer of all things Hallyu, said, “That’s actually pretty cool.”

SEE?!

The best part about this is that he’s modeled after my FAVORITE G-DRAGON LOOK! He wore this outfit in the Fxxk It video, and also in one of my favorite live performances, which I will now post as proof and also because I want to watch it again.

It just shows that my mom cares enough to know what I’m currently into and it means the world to me. It’s the little things in life. And sometimes these small joys really add up, you know? I love thoughtful gifts like this!