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!

Henry had to work on Saturday so Chooch and I were on our own.

Well I guess we’re gonna have to take control

(On our own)

If it’s up to us, we’ve got to take it home

(On our own)

We went for a walk first thing in the morning, trampling down Brookline alleys and stumbling upon ANARCHIST GRAFITTI! We decided to try and figure out who the culprit was and then suddenly, Chooch spotted an aerosol can discarded over to the side of the alley. “Maybe that’s the cam of spraypaint!!! NO DONT TOUCH IT, YOULL GET YOUR FINGERPRINTS ON IT!” I screamed. 

“It’s just hairspray,” Chooch said, failing miserably at pronouncing Tresemme (ooh la la).

And then we moved on to other things, like judging peoples’ backyards. (Like ours is so great. Oh wait we don’t have one lol.)

We walked past CVS and as the automatic doors opened, Chooch yelled, “Do you love Bambi!?” Because that’s what he calls his dumb cat Drew these days. 

“No, and stop yelling at me!” I cried. 

“I wasn’t asking you, I was asking the people in CVS.”

Whhhyyy did this make me crack up so bad? I think we’ve been spending too much time together. 

Wait! I’m getting my walks mixed up! I think this was from our second walk, around noon, when we went to Cafe Noir for our traditional Saturday beverage. (I usually get a latte, Chooch gets hot chocolate. Look at how much I tell you!)

This is me, half-woke and makeupless, and Chooch, struggling to see without a YouTube video in front of his face. We were walking down the sidewalk on our block and one of the neighbors shouted, “Here come the Bobsy Twins!” So freaking accurate. 

Idiot Henry came home around 2 so we went to a late lunch at Nak Won Garden. Pittsburgh doesn’t have many Korean restaurants and this is the only one I’ve been to so far that has ttkeokbokki on the menu! It’s specifically a Korean streetfood but most of the restaurants in Toronto’s Koreatown had it on their menu. If I had a Korean restaurant it would for sure be on the menu, with a glorious photo of it on the front, skewers and all. 

This particular place has it listed as an appetizer and it was perfect to share between us. I derived great pleasure from watching Henry struggle with metal chopsticks. He can barely use cheap wooden ones, let alone the Korean variety! He was getting so irritated because I kept swiping things from him and then trying to feed him. 

Oh Henry. So put-upon. Ho ho ho. 

I don’t know what he ordered but I got soondubu jjigae with mushrooms and basically wanted to place my whole fucking face in that bubbling cauldron of Korean stew. 

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And don’t get me started on the banchan. I ate all the kimchi before Henry even realized it was there. 

Eating lunch was exhausting so Henry fell asleep immediately upon returning home and I took lovely, sentimental pictures of us together. 

Then I hoped he wasn’t actually dead,  because these pictures would take on a completely new meaning. 

I made this birthday card for my noncomposcards shop and Chooch was like, “Get away from me with that. You are so cringey.” 

THAT’S JUST WHO I AM. 

Chooch’s queen on her throne. After I posted this on Instagram, several wheelchair accounts started falling me. I’m moving up in the world! This was almost as good as the time I was contacted by this poet who wanted to use one of my photos of a unicorn masked-Chooch sitting in that very wheelchair, as the cover of his next chapbook. I said sure as long as he credited me and he promised to send me a copy of it in the mail. He did, eventually, and boy was it interesting. It was basically a collection of sex poems written by a paraplegic. Chooch’s first cover!

Saturday night ended with me watching the livestream of KCON LA and throwing a fit when the feed froze THE EXACT MOMENT Vixx started to perform “Shangri-la.” OF COURSE IT WOULD. That was the main thing I was looking forward to!

By the time I woke up Sunday morning, it was already on YouTube, so….

IN CONCLUSION, MY SATURDAY WAS PRETTY FULFILLING. 

Nearly a month has passed since I saw my oppa, my king, my ultimate bias G-Dragon. It took everything I had in me to write part 1 of this Act III: Motte series of blog posts because as trivial as it may seem (“It’s just a concert, tho” — amirite?), the feelings I experienced that night were outrageous. Over and over, all night long, all I kept thinking was how incredibly grateful I was to be there, and never did I imagine I would be so close!

The whole point of this world tour is for G-Dragon to try to separate his stage alias and his actual identity—Kwon Jiyong. The concert was divided into three acts: the first, being his early solo work; the next act focused on his second solo album; and the third act brought us to the present, current version of himself: his real self. Kwon Jiyong.

M.O.T.T.E. stands for “moment of truth, the end.” Does he mean this is the end of G-Dragon? I’m not exactly sure, but the night was emotionally-charged and full of candid moments.

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After a long, dramatic introduction, G-Dragon appeared on an elevated stage and dove right into “Heartbreaker,” which was just loud enough to be heard over the fanatical screaming in the arena. Yes, we had just seen him during his soundcheck, but brother, nothing could have prepared me for this. His presence is fucking gigantic. How does he project so much, so far? BECAUSE HE IS A MAGICAL BEING SENT FROM ABOVE.

He did the running-dance thing that he does in the video and I legit swooned up all of my pent-up pre-teen notions of love and romance. Right there in the Air Canada Centre, years of diary pages and Scrunchies were practically wafting out of my mouth.

G-Dragon makes me feel like A GIRL AGAIN.

I don’t think my heart stopped fluttering once all night, even when I was also crying.

Because you know I also cried.

A lot.

Act 1 had these old school songs:

• Heartbreaker
• Breathe
• A Boy
• But I Love U
• Obsession

https://www.instagram.com/p/BXRm3VrBYvF/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

When I hear these old songs and watch the old videos, I feel so sad that I didn’t get to be around for that era of G-Dragon, the Heartbreaker-years, the bleached blond-phase. But watching him perform all of those old songs so close in front of me that night….wow. Words can’t describe.

I had all of these images going through my head during the months and weeks leading up to this concert, how I was going to react, how much I would scream, if Henry would have to pick me up from the ground…but the reality of it, what REALLY happened, was that I was stunned, straight-up speechless, immobile. I stood with my hands clutched beneath my chin and vacillated between crying and smiling. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him! HE IS THE CROWN JEWEL OF KOREA.

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The second act revolved around his next solo incarnation, which I would describe as being a little harsher, tougher, with more swagger.

• MichiGO
• One of a Kind
• R.O.D.
• That XX
• Black (English version, featuring Skye Ferriera. I really wish he would have stuck with the Korean version with Jenny from Blackpink, though)
• Missing You
• Who You?
• I Love It

The stage during Black was so cool and featuring some of his girl dancers suspended on swings behind clear plastic curtains. I really liked Act 2 a lot, and GD seemed to be more comfortable performing these songs, too.

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Before the show started, there was some mildly annoying white girl in front of us, making sure everyone knew she was the biggest BIGBANG fan there, etc. You know the type. But the one thing she said that I adamantly agreed with was, “If I show someone the Crayon video and they don’t like it, I wonder what exactly is wrong with them.”

YES THIS. That video is SO CLEVER, the song IS SO CLEVER, G-Dragon is SO CLEVER. Honestly, this guy is a creative powerhouse. Maybe that’s what most Westerners don’t realize: G-Dragon writes and produces his own stuff. He’s not just handed a song with a bow on it.

During Act 2, a video was played featuring GD’s friends and family responding to the question: Who Is G-Dragon/Kwon Jiyong to you? Admittedly, I had already seen this on one of the fan accounts I follow on Instagram, but I still cried like it was the first time hearing it. And I still think it’s curious that one of the BIGBANG members, Seungri, was not in the video.

Taeyang was though, of course, and his part made me cry almost as much as the cameos from GD’s parents. They must be so proud of him, I can’t even stand it.

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Did I mention that G-Dragon brings a live band on tour with him? Well, he does and they’re the perfect accompaniment for him. They add layers to his songs that elevate it to the next level. These guys aren’t just some amateurs off the street, you guys. I looked up the guitarist Justin Lyons because he looked familiar to me: he’s American and has been playing guitar for BIGBANG since 2012! So that’s why he looks familiar, because I’ve seen him on several live videos. G-Dragon had very genuine camaraderie with them too and that was one of my favorite things to watch, I addition to G-Dragon’s dancing and G-Dragon’s snarly expressions and G-Dragon’s sparkly clothes and G-Dragon G-Dragon G-Dragon…..

Huge shoutout to that backing band though.

Every time he came back on stage in new clothes, I thought, “HOW CAN HE KEEP LOOKING BETTER AND BETTER?” Only G-Dragon could pull off those looks. And that’s why he’s also a fashion icon in addition to being the biggest Kpop idol in the world.

I’m fascinated with him—and his parents. You don’t just learn how to captivate millions of people, you’re born with that magical ability. And I wonder, when did his parents first start noticing that he was more than just a basic human being. The whole Kpop industry in and of itself is interesting to explore and research, a total rabbit hole that you won’t want to climb out of, but G-Dragon is the most alluring out of it all. I could talk about him for hours, which is usually what happens at work until I check myself and put a cork in it before I get moved to a different floor…

…in a janitor’s closet.

But sometimes Lauren or Todd will casually ask me something kpop-related and the words are rushing and elbowing each other to escape my mouth like the doors to a Black Friday sale just opened at the Storytime Store.

Even for someone like Henry, whose heart isn’t nearly as invested in all of this, it was a spectacular event full of fire, confetti, amazing dancing, and G-Dragon being flawless and charismatic. One of my favorite parts was when he was alone on stage, just him and a microphone, talking to us in perfect English. It felt so personal! How does he do it!? Everyone started chanting “Kwon Jiyong” again and my heart blew up like a bloody balloon. Being surrounded by thousands of people who feel the same about him as I do was therapeutic, relieving, cathartic. It’s hard being alone in this back home! I took this all in, absorbed it, and felt validated in my balls-to-the-wall obsession. I can’t imagine having the restraint to just “casually” like him and judging by the people around me, being unrestrained is a real epidemic. :)

Every time he came to our side of the side, I cried. His eyes are so sparkly—how does he get them to sparkle in real life?!

The third act started with a video of G-Dragon’s monologue about what it’s like to be him, how he has been G-Dragon for so many years now that he’s beginning to forget who he really is. It was raw, unfiltered, and heartbreaking. I know for sure I wasn’t the only one crying when he was broadcasting his existential crisis for everyone to see. There was even a part when he says something about how everything expects that he must be living this grand life, he must be so happy with his success….but then he said, “Not so much lately.” I think that’s one of the things that has drawn me to him: he has many facets, and many different personalities. When I see him in candid videos with the rest of BIGBANG, he can be downright giddy. He looks happy and comfortable with his friends. When I see him on stage, he looks fierce, and my first impression of him was actually that he seemed mean, maybe egomaniacal. When I see him in pictures taken by paparazzi, he looks alone and sad.

He is an enigma.

Watching this confessional tore me up. I could relate to some of what he said—clearly not the fame part, but the feeling alone when from the outside, it doesn’t seem like I should feel that way. I could also relate a little bit to not always knowing who I am. I show different sides to different people and does anyone really even know the real me?

He said he wants to be Kwon Jiyong again, and asked us if we would be OK with that. Everyone started chanting “Kwon Jiyong” at that moment and it was beautiful and powerful and here come the tears again. I just want to hug him so hard and tell him he is loved. Try to imagine how isolated his life must be though, any celebrity really.

G-Dragon managed to create utter intimacy in an arena filled with like 20,000 people.

The third act started right as the video monologue ended with the words, “Do you even know who you are?” GD performed four songs from his 5-song mini-album, aptly titled “Kwon Jiyong.”

• Superstar
• Middle Fingers Up
• Bullshit
• Divina Commedia

Everyone went nuts for this act.

Let me tell you some things about “Kwon Jiyong” — it consists of five ultra-personal songs written by GD. It feels different than his past work — it’s more raw, intimate, honest. And it RULES. I preordered it a few months ago (duh) — it broke records all over Asia, made it to #1 on charts all over the world, and is essentially art. Ever the innovator, he eschewed the physical CD, bypassed the more common digital release, opting instead to package this new masterpiece on a USB.

It still comes in the jewel case like a CD, so you don’t have to worry about losing it. The USB stick in engraved with his name, birthday, and blood type (more important to Koreans than astrological signs) in his mother’s handwriting, and painted with a red ink to symbolize blood/birth. It’s ingenious, really. And once you have the USB, you have access to a website which is frequently updated with content so it’s like the gift that keeps on giving.

For instance, the new video for “Bullshit” was released last week on GD’s birthday, but only on the USB. It feels like being part of a secret club!

(Until someone inevitably puts it on YouTube, but hey—at least real fans got a few hours of feeling exclusive.)

The worst part about the third act is that it meant the show was coming to an end. No one wanted to say goodbye! When he left the stage before performing his huge single “Untitled (2014),” I knew he had to come back out for an encore. And when that encore only contained “Crooked” (and also “This Love” was playing while he introduced his band and singers, because he’s a true artist), I started to worry.

Of course, no one would leave after that. We knew there had to be more.

And just like that, his voice came booming out of the darkness, singing the opening line of “Untitled.” And when the screens turned on, we could see that he wasn’t on that stage—he was walking along through the photo pit, right next to the barricade! I had seen some videos of him doing this at some of the US shows and hoped he would do the same here, and there he was! He started on the left side and it quickly occurred to me that he was going to be right in front of me eventually—I felt like a woman on the edge, you guys. Totally unhinged, teetering on panic’s threshold, with full-blown shakes.

I’m not exaggerating—my legs were jiggling like Jello, every nerve in my body was electric, my face felt blanched. I thrust my phone at Henry and said, “HERE YOU DO THIS” because I was losing control of my motor skills and didn’t want to deal with capturing this Korean god on video. I just wanted to stand there and take it in with my own eyes. So I stood there, shaking violently, hands clasped under my chin, sobbing.

When he made it to our side, I couldn’t believe my luck. He was mere feet away from me. Right there, in person, this inspiring artist who helped me turn my life around without even knowing it—he was right there, with his perfect face and friendly smile, eyes sparkling, singing flawlessly into our crying faces.

If the girl behind me hadn’t been standing so close, I think I would have collapsed. No jokes here. My legs were weak and wobbly, friends. This was almost too much for me to handle and part of me wanted to bury my face in Henry’s side and shut out the whole world before I had a nervous breakdown.

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This video was viewed nearly 50,000 times in Instagram! I have never had a video viewed even a fraction of that before. That’s the power of Kwon Jiyong. <3

OMFG. I can’t handle it.

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I have a video of the whole song on YouTube but these are the best clips. Props to Henry for enduring all the girls pushing and shoving him. (To be honest though, this crowd was amazing and polite, I couldn’t believe it.)

And then he walked through a door on the side of the stage, the lights came on, and the staff started shouting for everyone to leave. Amazing, magical night. There are no other words in my vocabulary oeuvre right now, just amazing and magical. I will always associate those words with this night, forever. This was the best birthday of my whole life and I will never, ever forget it. I was absolutely on fire when we walked to the subway, talking a mile a minute while absorbing all of the beautiful Korean conversations taking place around me.

I know I must really love him because I’m not sore at ALL from all the standing we did. Usually my back hurts and I start to get antsy halfway through long concerts like that, but I didn’t feel any pain at all! I must have physically removed myself from my body that night in all the GD excitement. I told Henry all of this and asked him if he felt the same way.

“Nope. I’m in fucking pain,” he casually answered.

But he did admit that he enjoyed the show and felt it was 100% worth it. He might not worship the cherry blossoms GD walks beneath like I do, but he thinks GD is a great performer and will openly admit that to anyone who sneeringly asks him how awful the night was for him.

YOU GUYS THIS WAS THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER. How will this ever be topped? Maybe if I get to see BIGBANG someday—IN SEOUL. ON MY BIRTHDAY.

A girl can dream.

***

When we came home from Toronto, Chris & Monica suggested that we go out for ice cream do they could hear about the show, and for the next full week at work, people were coming over to my desk and asking, “Well?? How was it?” That meant so much and made me feel so good to know that a lot of people seriously understood how giant this event was for me! I wish I could turn it into a pillow and relive the whole night every time I lay my head down.

Le sigh.

A few months ago, I saw that Shawn Mendes and Charlie Puth were coming to Pittsburgh in August. I thought this would be a nice “Chooch & Erin are Loose” event because he loves Shawn Mendes and I like Charlie Puth a lot. They were playing PPG Paints arena (#foreverConsol) and the cheapest seats were going for $18.50. Reasonable! Especially since we didn’t care about super close.

If you read my KCON posts, I mentioned in one that I was just a casual Charlie Puth listener until we were in some broad’s Uber in Newark on our way to the convention, and whatever radio station she had on was talking about his current single “Attention,” and how there is a part near the end where his voice sort of cracks/cuts off. They mentioned this because most pop singers would have re-recorded that part, but Charlie opted to keep it because it showcased the emotion he was feeling when he sang that song.

Then they isolated that part for the listeners and I was in tears in the backseat of this stranger’s SUV, and just like that, “Attention” was forever changed for me. It was no longer just a pop song that I heard a lot on several radio stations.

Prior to this, I only knew him from that song he sings with Selena Gomez, “We Don’t Talk Anymore,” which is heartbreaking, too.

Flash forward a month or so. Things were calming down, the G-Dragon show was over, Warped Tour was done, so I figured that I better get those Illuminate tour tickets while I was thinking about it….

….and….

….no, it wasn’t sold out per se….

But there were like NO SEATS LEFT HARDLY. I counted nine of the cheap seats available and none of them were together. And then there were a sprinkling of seats near the stage, but BACK, at an angle, so you would be basically looking at the sides/backs of the performers. Plus, those seats were $65 before all of the fees that Ticketmaster takes in order to pay off the Devil or whatever the fuck it is that they do with that extra shit. Fucking criminals.

I mean, I like both of these singers, but not $65 worth.

So I gently broke this to Chooch who was just like, “Oh that’s fine. As long as you get to go to all YOUR concerts, Mother.”

Ouch.

But I mean, he’s not wrong, lol.

The next day, Henry was all, “Hey Star 100 is giving away Shawn Mendes tickets to caller 10” and I was like, “Cool story bitchboy, but I’m at work, so this is officially your mission.”

And that motherfucker won!

Well, kind of…

He was caller 10 but his piece of shit phone was crackling or something so they hung up.

I was so angry and made sure that everyone at work knew what a deadbeat dad he was.

The next day, I was on late shift so Chooch and I sat in my room, next to the radio, with our fingers ready to dial as soon as they said “caller 10.”

It was around this time that I actually listened to what they were saying on the radio and it wasn’t actual tickets to the concert: it was two passes to a PRESHOW PRIVATE PERFORMANCE with CHARLIE PUTH!

And then out of those winners, one grand prize winner would win tickets to the concert too.

This seemed like a sweet enough deal to me, and even Chooch was like, “Fuck yes, I want this even more than concert tickets!” and for him it’s probably because he weighed his options and a fifteen minute sit-down performance seemed more convenient to his lifestyle than a two hour concert in a big arena.

I have never won SHIT on the radio, so I wasn’t holding my breath. And true to form, it was just busy-busy-busy.

“Oh well, I’m sure they got a winner by now since we’ve been getting a busy signal for the last 5 minutes,” I sighed and by sighed I mean that I punched a hole in the wall and kicked a fucking puppy I’M JUST KIDDING.

It was just one of Chooch’s stuffed animals, and my fist didn’t go through the wall.

This time.

“How do you know it’s busy?” Chooch asked after I called the lady who won a cunt for not even sounding excited when they put her on the radio.

“Because….of the noise it was making? The busy signal?” I said slowly, emphasizing the words in a condescending fashion because that’s just how I do.

“Oh, I didn’t know what that noise meant. I thought it was just a special ring tone,” Chooch shrugged. And yeah, I guess he really wouldn’t know what a busy signal sounds like! Ugh, every new generation gets weirder and weirder.

Meanwhile, Henry was still trying to get through every hour after this since I couldn’t do it once I was at work*, and I even had my mom trying to win for us.

*(I mean, I could but I rarely make personal calls at work so why start now, sorry Chooch.)

An hour after I got to work, Henry texted me and said, “I won.”

Yeah right, I thought. This motherfucker!

“That’s not even funny. Don’t joke about that, Henry,” I texted back.

But he swore that he wasn’t lying. And he wasn’t!

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

Today was the day of the performance, and we had to be at the Cambria Suites by 1:15 to get checked in. Henry had arranged with the radio station to put it in my name instead of his, since ID was required. He accompanied Chooch and me on our voyage downtown today anyway, and I like to believe it was just as a precaution in case it was still in his name, and not because he was chaperoning us which is what he was clearly doing, ugh.

Just kidding, I was happy he was chaperoning. I didn’t want to be responsible for things like, “How do we get to the Cambria Suites” and “Do I need to feed my kid at some point, or are we good for a few more days?”

We arrived shortly after noon and the Star 100.7 broads told us we could just hang out on the patio until check-in started. So that’s what we did and it would have a lot better if I hadn’t been so fucking anxious and sweaty like I was waiting to see a dentist and not some pop singer who is kind of famous but not all the way famous.

Henry was happy because the patio was right outside of the hotel bar and since we took the trolley downtown, he treated himself to some daydrinking.

I made Chooch take pictures with me because everyone else was taking selfies and being all happy together and I wanted that too, goddammit. He was such a little fucker about it though. I guess he was mad because I made him wear these blue pants that I like but “make him look like a clown.” My days of dressing him are coming to an end.

As it got closer to 1:15, more and more people were rolling up. Mostly soccer mom types escorting their daughters and their friends. One super annoying guy had three little kids with him, so did he win twice?! I was mad because they were one of the last people to arrive and somehow of course made it second in line.

Chooch and I were about 20 people back from the start of the line, so I was satisfied with that. When we signed in (my ID worked thank god, because Henry was cozy at the bar by then), I also signed up for a chance to win a meet & greet with Charlie. My hands were shaking really bad because my nerves know no bounds anymore, so my name was like, “Erin Kell—-”

I shrugged and stuffed it into the box, never thinking about it again because I don’t win things, remember?

So we’re in line, and it’s almost 2pm at this point which is when the performance is about to start, when one of the radio ladies was all, “Hello we’re going to do the drawing now! Unfortunately, there can only be five winners because Charlie really doesn’t have much time.”

Understandable. There were other radio stations also giving away concert perks (I know because we were trying to win everything in hopes of actually scoring tickets in the process) so I didn’t doubt for a second that the guy was busy as fuck.

She starts calling out names.

One of them is “Erin Kell—–” and she shows it to another radio lady who says, “Kelly. Erin Kelly.”

I was only mildly paying attention, more interested in people-watching as usual, when hearing my name snapped me out of it.

“Oh wow that’s me!” I said jovially like some Midwestern mom, and walked away to get my meet and greet passes!

Drunk Henry was sitting fifteen feet away at the bar and didn’t know that I won!

“What was that for?” he texted me.

So I sent him a picture of the pass and he was all, “Oh wait, you won!?”

YEAH I WAS SHOCKED AT MY LUCK TOO HENRY.

I was fucking trembling at this point. I hadn’t let my brain imagine this far ahead. Now I got to actually meet the guy too? Oh god.

“I’m going to ask him if he loves Bambi,” Chooch said, grabbing one of the passes from me. Have I told you yet that Chooch has been calling Drew “Bambi” and then recently also became obsessed with the movie and tried to get us to buy it at Target but I was like, “I’m not paying $25 for a cartoon that gave made me feel suicidal without even knowing it as a child!” I yelled. And then on Friday, after G-Dragon’s birthday festivities died down, Chooch “accidentally” bought it On Demand, and I don’t just mean he rented it for like $6 or something; no that little bastard bought a digital copy of it for $22 so now we own the fucking movie and Henry was originally going to call the cable company and dispute it but then was like, “FUCK IT, IT’S YOURS NOW. BUT YOU’RE GOING TO PAY FOR IT.”

Then he watched it twice on Saturday and sent me all these crying GIFs.

So anyway, his new thing is asking everyone if they love Bambi and it’s so embarrassing. He yelled it into CVS when we walked by last night and the automatic doors opened.

Finally, the door to a small banquet hall-type room was opened and we were all ushered inside. Rows of chairs were lined up. Chooch got the last chair in the second row and I saw behind him. It ended up being perfect because all of the seats in my line of vision were occupied by small children so my view wasn’t obstructed at all.

Before Charlie came out, one of the radio ladies was like, “Does anyone have a question for Charlie that we can ask him when he comes out?” and Chooch immediately sat up straight in his chair and tossed me a devilish look over his shoulder.

“Don’t you even fucking dare!” I hissed and then he thought better of it. YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT.

Anyway, Charlie came out before she even had a chance to finish introducing him because he said he didn’t like introductions and right off the bat, he was so real and down to earth! I loved him even more and was really hoping that it would go this way and not like, “Ugh, let’s get this over with. #obligations”

He talked about Primanti’s, the fact that he didn’t know that Wiz Khalifa is from Pittsburgh until he was on his way here today (he did a song with Wiz and it’s currently the #1 most-viewed video on YouTube, apparently), and congratulated us for having a lot of bridges. Then he was like, “OK let’s do this” and dove right into “We Don’t Talk Anymore.”

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Some lady behind me screamed afterward, and Charlie said, “That was an A,” and demonstrated by pressing down on a key of his keyboard. “That means you’re really high-pitched. You could probably even do a D,” and then he played that key too. “Sorry, that was so nerdy. Now this just sounds like a lecture.” And we all laughed.

I just read recently that he went to Berklee so that gave him some extra cred in my book.

Guys, he sang “Attention next and I was shook.

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And he beat-boxed! I really like this song a lot. Anytime I’m upstairs and I say my jam is on, Henry knows it’s this song because I keep Top 40 radio on in the bedroom and he mumbled once, “It’s the only American song you like right now.”

It’s true.

So he only did those two songs, and some people were bitching about it later; the lady who called Henry with the info for today’s event mentioned that he would only be singing two or three songs, so this wasn’t shocking and I wasn’t disappointed. I was just really glad for this opportunity because he’s pretty well-beyond the whole “intimate venue” stage of his career it seems.

And how are you going to bitch about something that you didn’t even have to pay for? Some Americans are never happy.

Right after, they made everyone who didn’t have the meet and greet passes leave the room. Charlie came back out and we all got to have our picture taken with him.

WHY am I still so awkward at 38?! Chooch and I got up there and even though I was rehearsing things like, “Thank you for doing this for us” and “You sounded wonderful!” all I could say was, “HI YOU’RE AWESOME.”

That’s my fucking socially backward go-to.

Because he doesn’t already know he’s awesome.

Or that this is what his fans think.

He was just like, “Oh, thank you!” and then the radio people took our picture before I was ready and we left.

Then I had the excruciating task of waiting for them to post it to INSTAGRAM. Ugh, fml.

Ugh, whatever. It’s fine. I’ll take it.

I just want to give a shoutout to the Star 100.7 girls who were running the show today. Everyone was so nice and things seemed to go off without a hitch, and they more or less were on time with everything. I don’t involve myself with radio stations very often because none of the music I REALLY like is played on the radio, but I have had bad experiences in the past with DJs from the local alternative station, so I was kind of braced for rudeness. But nope — just a very pleasant experience!

*****

Afterward, we hung around downtown. We had lunch at Noodles in Market Square and then went to Millie’s, where Henry had a bitchbaby moment when Chooch and I each ordered the two flavors he was considering so he did that annoying, “Then I just won’t get any” bullshit sob story. God, call your mom. It’ll back up her theory that I’m an asshole girlfriend! But then he ended up getting a scoop of strawberry. How generic.

(Sike — it’s Millie’s strawberry, so it’s probably amazing and gilded with the sweet kisses of the actual Strawberry Shortcake.)

Chooch had cherry pie and I had blueberry lime graham.

So good. Millie’s is the best ice cream in town. I hope someone brings Charlie Puth a pint after the show tonight!

Henry, with the excuse that he was tired from having three beers and not just that he has a sleeping problem, fell asleep waiting for the trolley.

(I took this picture accidentally, with flash, even.)

Then he fell asleep ON the trolley.

Chooch and I were incredibly slaphappy after a day of meetin’ & greetin’ and ice cream and Henry tripping on a curb at one point downtown, that I straight up peed my pants (JUST A BIT) after we got off the trolley. Chooch knew he had me right where he wanted and kept antagonizing me over and over, making up dumb jokes about Henry that weren’t funny at all but I was fucking delirious so a few more pee drops escaped and then I hit my head off a corner of a wall and couldn’t even talk properly without all of my words coming out slurred and janky from the laughter. I looked like a real Brookliner, you guys. A real fucking druggie weirdo.

Came home and immediately changed my clothes on account of the pee, and then spent the rest of the day watching my Instavids over and over because YOU JUST WANT ATTENTION, YOU DON’T WANT MY HEART, BLAH BLAH BLAH TODAY FUCKING RULED.

I have so much that I want to preserve up here on thee ol’ memory website, and even though I blog every single ding dong day, I still can’t keep up. AND HOW, when my life is not really that exciting AT ALL. Also, my subscription feature is all jacked, so no one is getting notifications and for once it doesn’t seem to be Henry’s fault because he looked into it and other people have been complaining (where?) about the same problem, so even though I am straight-up pouring out my heart on here, barely anyone is reading it!

It’s always something.

But back to last Saturday! We went to Blake & Haley’s house in Monessen so Chooch and Blake could play Fundapop (the new Thingieball), and so Henry could agitate Calvin. That baby is so cute but I’m still just admiring from a distance. However, we’re all going to Kennywood on Tuesday and I intend on taking a million pictures of him not riding anything other than his stroller.

Lol, babies.

Anyway, I was super clenched watching Chooch, Haley, and Blake play Fundapop because they kept losing the ball in this super overgrown area and I kept saying things like YOU BETTER NOT LOSE ANY OF THOSE BALLS and YOU BETTER FIND THAT FUCKING BALL! and OK LET’S PUT THE GAME AWAY NOW WHILE ALL 4 BALLS ARE STILL INTACT!

I am 100% OCD over missing pieces.

Afterward, we left to get lunch before a war broke out (you know me and my hanger). We were originally going to go to Blue Flame because it was on our route home, but then we drove past The Twist in Monongahela and I casually looked it up on Yelp and was surprised to see that it was more than just an ice cream joint — I knew it had food but I figured, you know, hot dogs and nachos.

But no! The menu looked legit, so Henry turned around reluctantly—I think he was prepared for false advertisement resulting in me flipping tables. The last time we were here was when we did the Ice Cream Cannibal photoshoot with Chooch and the place seemed like it was closed forever then.

These pictures never get old!

You know how sometimes you walk into a restaurant and you just know it was meant to be? That’s how I felt on this day. I loved everything about it! LOOK AT HOW FUCKING CUTE IT IS!!! And shabby chic or whatever they’re calling this aesthetic these days is not even normally my style!

And the menu had numerous veg-friendly options, so I actually had a hard time ordering for positive reasons.

Chooch got the Greek omelet, and then after the waitress walked away, he asked us, “Do I like artichokes?” causing Henry and me to suck in our breath through our teeth  because that kid is so goddamn picky.

We figured FOR SURE he was going to just move around the omelet a lot on his plate, which is what he does when he wants us to mistake the motions for him actually eating. But no, his omelet arrived and he was like, “THIS is what artichokes taste like? HOLY SHIT, artichokes are GOOD” and then proceeded to demolish the whole thing, and it was one giant, motherwhompin’ omelet too! He ate every last bite and is now obsessed with artichokes. I hope this means that his palate (lol, I type palette at first, someone take my English degree off of me, oh wait, I never got the degree) is finally maturing a bit.

Meanwhile, I got this bitchin’ breakfast tamale thing and it was everything. So much better than the grilled cheese I would have ordered at Blue Flame because what else would I get at Blue Flame? It’s not often I walk into some small hick-town restaurant and have the opportunity to stuff my face with a tamale.

Henry ordered meat.

The service was a delight as well — what an unusual experience for us!

We ordered ice cream to go afterward and I was mad because Henry chose the same flavor as me which meant I couldn’t decide that I wanted his instead.

I forget what we got—something amaretto.

Chooch and his fancy palate got cannoli.

I don’t even remember else we did on Saturday but who cares because we managed to have lunch without fighting, and that my friends, WOULD NOT BE THE CASE THE NEXT DAY.

I’ll leave you with this wonderful song and video from AKMU which I have been meaning to post for awhile but you know, I just can’t get my shit together.

Today is Kwon Jiyong’s birthday (technically, it was yesterday since it’s already the 19th now in Seoul). I declared yesterday that I would buy a cake in his honor today, and it worked out perfectly since I’m working from home and also late shift, because that meant I could walk to Potomac Bakery and then decorate the damn thing on my break.

(Chooch declined my invitation but I dragged his dumb ass with me anyway, in a veritable monsoon. We got hardcore splashed by a truck on the way there and it was so humiliating but we perservered. ITS THE LIBERAL WAY!)

Chooch and I carefully, and after much deliberation, settled on a mildly festive cake with enough blank space on the white frosting to allow me to stick my decorations in it.

“Do you want it to say anything?” the lady at the bakery asked. Here is where I either say too little or too much, never just enough. On this day, I went with TOO MUCH.

“Well…” I hesitated, wondering if they would scrawl Happy Birthday in Hangeul for me. “Ok so this is weird but this cake is actually for our favorite Kpop singer—-”

“Ours?” Chooch screeched in a “don’t bring me into this!” tone.

“What?! You like him too!” I cried defensively, and then noticed the lady was totally confused and still waiting for an answer. “Oh, so I wanted it to say happy birthday in Korean, but I figured I would just do that myself—”

“Do you have your own icing? Because I can’t give you any,” she said, completely and utterly shutting down any further explanation about my deviant Korean cake decorating.

I quietly said yes and then started to say I was just going to print stuff out and stick them in the cake but any fucks she had left to give had practically clawed their way into her ass to escape any more of my crazy cake talk.

I came home and yelled at the computer for an hour because I couldn’t find a good Hangeul font to download for Photoshop and then I found one but all the actions are in Korean so I was just blindly clicking things and now I probably have a Kim Jung Un missile virus ugh.

*****

A few hours later, I realized that I should have bought a G and a D letter candles for the cake. I told Henry this just as he was leaving work and he was all WHY COULDNT YOU HAVE TOLD ME THIS EARLIER WHEN I WAS AT TWO PARTY CITY STORES?! (And that was completely unrelated to G-Dragon’s birthday. Don’t you know that I’m tacky AF and get my regular home decor from party stores?)

So he said he’d stop at Pat Catan’s and then I texted, “ooh see if they have Korean balloons too.”

Odds are in favor of us not speaking by the time we cut this cake. Especially after I referred to G-Dragon as my king and Henry whispered “oh my god.”

On the upside I can sing Happy Birthday in Korean now! (Well, the short version. There’s also some long-ass version that’s like the length of an actual song and my memory can’t handle that today.)

***

It’s 7:30. I’m still working. Henry printed out my cake decorations, and I have my GD crown adorning my warped pate.

JANNA IS NOT HERE YET.

Every time I open the door to look for her, passersby do a double take and then I remember that my crown flashes valiantly.

It’s now 8:00 and Janna still isn’t here. I have the cake all decorated and I told Henry that we don’t have to wait for Janna.

“She’s basically just coming for cake, so we can start without her. She doesn’t have to be here for the actual ceremony.”

“She’s so lucky,” Henry just mumbled.

***

OK! Janna got here so after I was done working, the celebrations got underway! I made Chooch invite his friend Jaden so it looked more like a party. Jaden seemed extremely confused and not amused.

Wow, we had MAJOR issues with the candles and Henry was like THATS ENOUGH! PLEASE STOP LIGHTING THE CANDLES BEFORE THE HOUSE BURNS DOWN.

The candles were melting so quickly that we didn’t even have a chance to sing Happy Birthday in Korean after I PRACTICED ALL FREAKING DAY.

Happy birthday, my King. I hope you had the most amazing 30th birthday of all time. <3

Heyo! Lori scheduled a belated birthday lunch for me last week, at a place of my choosing, and described the event as an opportunity for me to talk about all things G-Dragon. 

I accepted immediately, even though Wendy was invited too, ughhh. 

(J/K for anyone who takes my words literally.)

I’m awful at choosing places to eat downtown because I don’t eat out for lunch very often (habitual oatmeal/Cream of Wheat nosher here). But at the eleventh hour, I remembered that there was some ramen joint opening up down the street and a quick Google search of “ramen Pittsburgh” let me know that it opened a few weeks ago. 

Luckily, my suggestion was met with happy acceptance because Lori was under the weather and wanted something soup-y, and Wendy was just happy to not have to make decisions, probably. 

Obviously, I picked this place because it jives with my new Eastern palate. 

We got there around 12:30 and it was pretty empty, which was concerning. But…there’s construction happening right outside and past of their entrance is blocked by scaffolding, so we figured that was why. 

Hoped, anyway. 

Lack of diners aside, the decor was on point!

And I immediately bonded with the waitress, who came over to get our drink orders and said to me, “I love everything you have going on here,” while waving her hands over my teenaged accoutrements. 

TELL ME MORE. 

BUT WAIT FOR WENDY TO COME BACK FROM THE BATHROOM FIRST. 

You know who else would have hated this? Chooch. He despises that my teenage accessories garner attention. He’s always like, “Why can’t you just carry a normal purse like other moms? Like a beige one or something? Why are all of your purses like cartoons?”

Because I’m all about that animated life, boiiii. Step off. 

While we perished the menu, I was going on about how I’m not that annoying vegetarian who goes to restaurants and makes annoying requests and meatless demands. Meanwhile, I spotted something on the menu that had KOREAN PICKLED DAIKON in it and did you know I fucking love daikon? Well I do. Send me a basket of it for Christmas. 

But that dish had pork in it. 

There was another dish that was similar, but vegetarian. That should have been enough but it came with rice and it ramen like the pork dish, and I wanted the ramen because we were in a ramen joint. So I asked the waitress if I could either get the ramen version without the pork or the veg  one with ramen and I could almost feel Lori’s and Wendy’s joining forces in Eyeroll Unity while I could hear my voice being a few octaves higher as if that would make me sound friendlier in my Vegetarian Princess demands. 

We couldn’t do the first option because the sauce was pork-based (I appreciated that she knew that!) but she confirmed with the kitchen that the second option could be done with no problem. I thanked her profusely and prayed that she didn’t think I was some cranky asshole with an imaginary food allergy. 

Wendy did mention that it was my birthday though, so maybe she just assumed I was one of those douches who expect the world to spin at their own speed on their birthday. 

Meanwhile, Wendy and Lori ordered a simple, standard, house ramen. Oh those low-maintenance carnivores!

Their ramen really did look delightful though. I wanted to steal those eggs. 

I was so pleased with my lunch! Honestly, it tasted like something Henry would make me at home, which is a true testament to his Asian cooking skills. It was such a comforting, delicious lunch. It was daebak! 

That daikon though. 

Anyway, 45 minutes into the lunch I realized that we hadn’t talked about G-Dragon at all because Wendy was talking about gross smells and Lori was trying to determine if she had a cold or allergies and I was struggling to eat my noodles like they were live tentacles. 

Ugh. 

Lunch was so good though, and the waitstaff was so friendly and accommodating! I want to go back and drink all the sake. 

Thanks, Lori & Wendy!

Spent all night seething over that racist piece of shit leading our country straight back to 1944, but I woke up to not one, but TWO new Taeyang videos. 

So happy that I get to see him in a few weeks. So happy for a few moments of bliss this morning before reality sets back in. 

My favorite Pittsburgh ice cream shop, Millie’s, recently opened a second location minutes away from where I work downtown. I thought it would be an awesome idea to skip out on one of our Monday meetings and get some Millie’s instead. I broached this idea to Boss Amber,  paired with the gentile insinuation that it could be a TEAM BUILDING EXERCISE. But Amber was like, “Um it’s ice cream, you don’t need to justify it” and an ice cream outing was officially scheduled!

This has been a rough year for our little group. We lost* two people – Amber1 and Gayle – and plus everyone has had to endure all my DAILY KOREA FACTS all year, so some fancy locally-sourced ice cream was just what we need to boost morale. 

*(I mean, they’re still alive, but still! We miss them.)

Guys, I got SZECHUAN ROASTED PEACH and it was to die for. The only way it could have been better would be it was, I don’t know, gochugaru roasted peach. 

Lauren got coconut lime, Todd & Amber both got Vietnamese coffee, and dumb Glenn probably got a scoop of Plain. Who knows, who cares. 

I took a group picture for our department’s Wiki page—I’m one of two people in our department with editing rights so every once in awhile, random Kpop pictures find their way into the limelight and everyone is all, “Ugh Erin Kelly.” 

On th way back to the office, some deranged street person sidled up to Glenn and started screaming about if Glenn took him to the ATM and gave him $100,000, he’d be his best friend. 

“I come out here every day, and no one bothers me. I come out here with Erin and all her friends come out to attack me,” Glenn mumbled as we crossed the street, leaving his new friend behind on the sidewalk.

****

Back at work, I was all hunched over, giddily editing our group photo, getting it primed for its public debut. 

After I posted it on our group’s page, I announced, “Ok our picture’s up!” No one said anything. I craned my neck to see if Lauren was going to our wiki page. 

She was not. 

Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer so I flat out told Todd to go and look at it. 

“I already saw it,” he said. “You showed us on your phone.”

“Yeah but….just go and look,” I urged, standing behind him to make sure he did it. It took him FOREVER TO GET THERE because he doesn’t have it saved as a favorite. Ugh. 

When he saw it, it took him awhile to register, but then he laughed. 

“Wow,” he said in a total #smh tone. 

Lauren, upon hearing us laughing about it, decided she better go and check it out too. I’m sure she was low-key worried because god only knows with me, you know? But then she started giggling too. 

I had to wait for Amber to come back from her lunch break, but when she did, I practically crashed into her desk and sat on her lap in my excitement to have her look at the picture. 

She doesn’t have our wiki page saved as a favorite either so I had to stand there doing the pee-jig while she clicked through 18 pages to get there. 

She didn’t catch it at first, but when she finally saw G-Dragon’s perfect face, she started laughing and cried, “You’re….so special.”

The best part is fielding questions from the people in our department who have somehow avoided the Kpop-mania on our side of the floor, after they go to our page for actual work-related reasons and see our picture. That’s just the new intern, you guys. Kwon Jiyong. <3

On the offchance you’re tired of the sickening displays of racism in our collapsing country, here’s a blog post with just pictures of my cats. 

Because I don’t have the energy for anything else. I’ve spent all weekend ranting to Henry about Charlottesville and our “president” and I just feel like some stupidly hopeless white girl who can’t make a difference aside from the one motherfucking “White Lives Matter” sticker I angrily peeled off a door in an alley in Dormont last week. I wish racists could be peeled off the face of the earth that easily. 

America could be the most progressive country in the world, but instead…..this. 

Can we get a real leader yet? Like some Marvel motherfucker? How much longer? SOS please send help, Canada. 

Me: I haven’t written about G-Dragon yet. I don’t even know how to start it!

Chooch: Just start by saying “OMG YOU GUYS.”

Me: That’s pretty much how I start all my posts — DONT YOU READ MY BLOG?!

***

OMG YOU GUYS. July 30, 2017 was the best day of my life (even though I still cried & threw a fit).

Let me back up.

Gotta get that clotheline ready for all the dirty laundry I’m about to hang up like a cheap, tacky outsider art show.

2016 was the worst year of my life. All this tragic shit went down with my family, the great America tragedy known as the 2016 Presidential Election happened, and these things combined to form the perfect storm inside my head. I can’t remember the last time I felt so low, had so many suicidal thoughts, and basically fought with myself on the downlow everyday to stay alive.

I didn’t talk about it with anyone. That was my first mistake. I kept saying I was fine. The shit with my family was fine. The repressed memories swelling up inside of me were fine. The uncontrollable sobbing over TV commercial was fine.

Nothing to worry about!

I was going to a lot of concerts by myself that year too, seeing lots of sad boy bands, crying by myself in a crowd of strangers and feeling more alone than I ever have in my life.

But I didn’t talk about it. Because when I do, it’s always like… a joke. Silly Erin. Dramatic Erin. Because when you can’t put your finger on one solid, tangible problem, people don’t understand. That’s the awesome thing about mental illness — if you don’t “have” it, you can’t possibly comprehend so it sounds like a complete flight of fancy when someone tries to explain to you that they see their emotions in color and cry when they step on a leaf BECAUSE THAT POOR LEAF.  Everything is anthropomorphic. Everything is fragile. There is so much sourceless pain.

I decided to have a Christmas party. I wanted to try to end the year on a happy note. When you have been suffering with bipolar since you were a kid, you find ways to bandage it. And for me, it was always having parties. Trying to fill my house with as many friends in hopes it would do the same to the void in my heart.

I was making a party playlist which stopped Henry in his tracks on his way to the kitchen.

“Oh my god, do you want people to leave your party feeling suicidal?!” Henry explained at the funeral dirge-like goth renditions of Christmas songs I was adding left and right.

“FINE THEN ILL PUT SOME KPOP IN THERE TOO,” I cried. And then, “Aw, I forgot how much I liked these Kpop songs!”

It inspired me to start doing my KpopX workouts again. I had been gaining weight again after years of steadily losing it and that’s always a tell-tale sign that I’m in a rut.

And then it just spiraled from there, the Kpop stuff. I started watching music videos, YouTube videos about Korean food, Seoul travel vlogs….it was replacing my constant CNN watching. I actually stopped watching regular cable altogether. I became obsessed with the way the Korean language sounded, how the dialect slowed down my racing thoughts.

Learning about the culture gave me a healthy outlet. I threw myself into it headfirst. And for the first time in decades, I wasn’t listening to music that made me cry. Kpop was making me so happy. It was helping me lose weight. It was filling that void and giving me something to be excited about it.

Oh, I get so much shit for it. Lots of rolled eyes, lots of being told that it’s cheesy or stupid and that’s fine, because I know that this cheesy stupid thing has saved my life.

But there was one thing that came out of this that stood out among the k-Dramas, the variety shows, and my need to squirt gochujang on every foodstuff—and that thing was a Korean powerhouse named G-Dragon. At first, I didn’t get it. I knew that he was the biggest Kpop star in the world, had high-profile friends even here in America, and was bacisally Korea’s national treasure. But then the more BIGBANG videos I watched, the more live performances I YouTubed, the more variety show appearances I sat trough, the more I understood.

G-Dragon is fucking everything.

For the first time probably since I discovered Jonny Craig in 2007, I felt really excited about music again. I wanted to open my front door and scream BUT DO YOU KNOW G-DRAGON? to every asshole walking past my house.

I had it bad. I dragged Henry down with me. Soon he became a BIGBANG fan too and honestly acknowledged G-Dragon’s greatness. This was something we could enjoy together. It was bringing us closer, even, this whole Korea thing. I was suddenly less irritable, less panicked, less morose.

I was giddy again. Laughing again. Excited to come home from work and dive deeper into this new area of my life.

The bad thing about coming into BIGBANG so late into the game is that all five members are gearing up for their mandatory military enlistment soon (one has already enlisted), so I figured I might never be able to see them live — who knows if they will resume things as a band once they’re all out again.

So when G-Dragon announced his solo world tour and I saw that North America was on the list, Henry didn’t even bother dragging his feet. We got VIP tickets to the Toronto show which fell on my birthday—and now you know, maybe, why this concert was so special—-no, so important to me.

****

We got to the Air Canada Center around 2:45 that afternoon. My VIP itinerary said that check-in was beginning at 3:45, and anyone who got there after 6 would miss the soundcheck. I have never done anything like this before and very rarely even go to big concerts in arenas (I’m used to shows in small clubs where tickets are $15!) so I wanted to get there kind of early, especially since we saw that there was already a line when we passed by earlier that day.

There were a good bit of people in line when we arrived but not so much that I felt overwhelmed. There were two lines, what we figured were gold and silver,  so we got in the end of the longer line after asking if it was silver. No one seemed to know for sure but everyone I asked said they were silver VIP, so….blind faith.

This was when I noticed that the demographics here were not as diverse as KCON – it was mostly Asian people in line with us and I loved it because Korean was being spoken around all sides of me! There was a really cute young Chinese couple behind me that I was obsessed with.

After about an hour of standing in line, the girl in front of us started to wonder why the other line was so short. She suspected that we could stand in both lines, and that’s exactly what she was told when she went and asked one of the staff members. She came back and pulled her friend with her into the much shorter line, but I was hesistant to follow. Several other people eventually followed suit and then Henry went over and asked someone for himself. He too was told that the first line was for silver VIPs so when he came back and told me, I in turn told the cute couple behind me  because they didn’t speak English well and I didn’t want to leave them behind. (The girl part of the couple was wearing a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt and Henry thought this was the oddest thing.)

And wouldn’t you know it, as soon as we got to the other line, another LiveNation guy came over and started yelling about how that was not the line for silver VIPS and he made us all turn around, which meant we had to go all the way to the back of the original line, which was so long and I wanted to cry. I felt doubly terrible because I dragged those poor Chinese kids down with me.

(Well, they’re prpbably not “poor” per se, because those fucking VIP tickets were pretty exorbitant.)

On our walk of shame, another guy started shouting, “If you DO NOT have an orange wristband, get in the left line!”

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDIDNG?? That was the line we were just kicked out of 20 seconds ago! Luckily, we hadn’t made it too far on our walk of shame, so we were able to turn around and still get pretty far up in the good line, maybe about 40 heads back.

Turns out, the people with the orange wristbands were the ones who gotten there extra early and got pre-wristbanded for their efforts. So they got to check in first. There weren’t too many of them, but we still had to stand in line for nearly another hour and I wanted to cry. Meanwhile, the girls who were in front of us originally, the ones who started this whole line fiasco (even though they WERE right) had sidled up next to me and pleaded for me to pretend like they were with me so that they could stand in line with us, because what happened wasn’t fair and they had ended up nearly at the back of the line.

I did feel bad because they weren’t at any fault! They were given the correct info and ended up being punished because some dickhead didn’t understand his job. So I said fine, and we introduced ourselves to each other (the one was Yolanda, but I can’t remember the other girl’s name). We commiserated for awhile about how unorganized the set-up was and then went back to standing in silence because standing around is exhausting you guys. I kept yawning for absolutely no reason.

By 5:00, we had made it past security, picked up our tickets, got a wristband and our Act III: Motte gift bag which included our VIP soundcheck lanyards and bullclips from G-Dragon’s peaceminusone clothing line. I was so happy!

A LiveNation lady jovially explained to us that we were free to mill about because our wristbands were pre-numbered so we didn’t need to worry about losing our spots in line. I was really happy about that because that meant we were going to be allowed into soundcheck in the same order we checked in.

HOWEVER, I noticed that my number was one greater than Henry’s which I found odd since I was given my wristband first. I also thought our number was pretty high in relation to how many people were ahead of us in the original line.

And that’s when some terribly annoying and incompetent, pigeon-toed Live Nation girl came over to us and demanded to see our numbers.

“OK YOU’RE BASICALLY AT THE END OF THE LINE BECAUSE IT STOPS AT 400,” she vocal-fried in our faces. She led us to the back of a line, and I noticed that we passed the girls who I left get in line behind us. And then we just kept walking further and further back.

“What the hell?” I said to Henry, pointing out all the people we passed who checked in after us. And then the dumb bitch kept putting people behind us who should have been in front of us, and when she would realize we were out of place, she would freaking call us out in front of everyone like we were fucking derelicts who couldn’t count.

Henry wanted to ignore her, but I was worried about causing a scene on a day that was supposed to be the best day of my life (sorry Chooch), so I kept sighing and stepping out of line to get to the back, until finally I had enough, looked her dead in the eyes and snapped, “THEN STOP PUTTING PEOPLE BEHIND US, YOU KNOW BY NOW WHAT OUR NUMBERS ARE.”

And she literally never bothered us again.

However, another girl in charge of counting walked by, so I snagged her and asked her exactly how this numbering system worked. She assured me that the numbers on the wristbands were chronological and asked, “Then why are people who were behind me in line out there now waaaaay head of me in this line?”

She swore that was impossible, and I was like, “Well, I’m not making this up. I think that wristbands got mixed up at some point. I figured out that girls who I let get in line behind me were numbers 322 and 323, but Henry and I were 395 and 396.

How is that possible?!

The writsbands were in sheets, and we think that sheets got out of order. It’s the only way.

This girl seemed like she genuinely wanted to help, and she went to talk to two other people who were in charge, but short of making up two imaginary numbers for us, I knew nothing was going to be done. They would have to actually admit that they fucked up. NO WAY LiveNation is ever going to do that.

We ended up so far back in line and I was devastated. All that waiting we did, and now we were probably going to be pushed all the way to the back once we got onto the floor. Then I noticed that my Chinese buddies were in front of us! And there were three young Korean girls behind me who were definitely in front of me when we were in the other line, so we bonded over the fact that someone in charge didn’t know how to count and then I felt better that it wasn’t just me and Henry. I bet there were about 20 of us at least who got numerically fucked.

But then one of the girls behind me was talking about how something similar happened to one of her friends at a BTS show, and how her friend started crying about it. “I mean, I was like ‘Girl, cry about it if that will make you feel better, but it’s not going to change anything’,” and she went back to playing some game on her phone, leaving me to digest this. And she was right. I could stand there and be salty, I could get loud and demand justice, but for what? Nothing was going to change. This was the hand I was dealt, I was cheated, but at the end of the day, I was still there, in line to see G-Dragon, and wasn’t that what really mattered?

And just like that, I was OK. Especially once the band started soundchecking and we realized the back of the stage was literally right through a door next to us. My Chinese friends were giddily trying to sneak through to get a closer look and it was so funny to watch. Everything was good again! We all giggled and people-watched (there were so many guys trying to be like GD) and before we knew it, the line started to move—we were finally being let onto the floor for the soundcheck!

The floor was separated in the middle by a barricade and a line of security. We got to pass right through to the area closest to the stage and each staff member we passed very firmly warned that absolutely no cameras or phones were permitted during soundcheck. Believe me, after my hi-touch experience at KCON, I wasn’t about to test this. I shoved my phone in my purse and didn’t touch it once—I paid a lot of money for this and I was going to be a perfect little girl with good posture and hands behind my back. 

Surprisingly, we were about 6 heads back the stage, after that whole numbering fiasco. There was just so much room available in the VIP area that it really didn’t matter after it was all said and done. 

GD came out around 7:30 for soundcheck and everyone went ballistic. I had imagined this moment in my head for months, a plethora of scenarios were possible…but my reaction was one of semi-paralysis. I sincerely couldn’t move, and my throats felt like it was swollen shut — I was in a state of absolute awe, the highest level of starstruck unlocked. 

There he was, on that stage in front of me, dressed casually, all in black: black bucket hat, black face mask, and what appeared to be a pair of jeans slung across one shoulder in a fashion statement only GD could pull off.  

I WAS SHOOK. 

Never did I think I would get the opportunity to see this brilliant diamond shine in front of me, yet there he was: sparkling even in black, shining even with his face half-hidden beneath a mask. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t talk. 

All I could do was straight cry. 

This person, this idol—he is everything.  His charisma and energy has managed to pick me up from 3000+ away.  There are just no words to explain it, but I am captivated by him—his words, his voice, his movements. I can’t believe I wasted so many years on Jonny Craig when Kwon Jiyong was there the whole time!

And even in spite of the incessant NO RECORDING warnings, people were still doing it blatantly, causing security to push and shove their way through the crowd to issue warnings and remove the offenders from the soundcheck if necessary. Some of them didn’t learn and their arms would shoot straight back into the air with their phones. 

Someone was able to get this much footage, somehow:

His soundcheck was chill, a bit lethargic even, but gave us a taste of what was to come and by the time he walked off stage 20 minutes later, people were desperately screaming for him to come back. 

I put my head into Henry’s chest and wailed, “I CANT BELIEVE HE WAS JUST RUGHT THERE.”

We had about about another hour to wait for the show to start after that. Regular ticket holders were now being allowed in, and everyone was just milling about at that point, getting food and talking. 

It was right around then that Henry realized there was a great open space at the right side of the of the stage so we usurped that prime real estate—this put me three heads back from the barricade! The view was perfect and no one was crowding up on us. All that stressing we did over wristband numbers and look – we still got the most comfortable spot. I felt so lucky. 

Lol, Henry the groupie. 

We were entertained by G-Dragon videos playing on the large screens to the sides of the stage. Henry enjoyed watching some of the people bust out GD’s signature moves. I mildly hated the blond haired white girl in front of us who acted as an authority of Kpop and would pause after each of her cocky statements to see if anyone was listening. When she haughtily said that Taeyang can’t carry a solo tour because he’s too boring, I pretty much blocked her out. 

However, no one bugged me all night. Kpop fans are so chill! I can get used to this. (My bank account won’t ever get used to it, though….)

That title makes it sound like my birthday was super terrible but it actually wasn’t, for once.

Here are some photos of my day, before the MAIN EVENT which obviously was the G-Dragon concert which yes, I am still crying about. In fact, earlier tonight, Chooch and I were on a walk when I wistfully said, “I still can’t believe how close I was to G-Dragon” at which point Chooch said, “Help me” to some lady sitting on the porch of a house we were strolling past.

I might have a problem.

LOL I do. For sure.

But back to my birthday! Henry and I woke up all bright & early because I was rearin’ to go. Our pre-concert plans involved “going to see the water” because if we’re near water I like to look at it while keeping a healthy distance. Henry looked at a map and realized that the Air Canada Center is actually very close to the lake.

But first, coffee.

I hatethat phrase. I wanted to see what it would feel like to actually type it out and I’m here to tell you that it felt super douchey and if you ever see me wearing a shirt with some trendy slogan on it like that, please feel free to knock over my $8 cup of Chemex-brewed designer beans.

But yeah, we went to Boxcar Social for morning beverage, and then walked to to the Purple Penguin for breakfast sandwiches and I was super difficult with my meatless requests but the friendly guy at the counter was super happy to help me get the breakfast sandwich of my dreams and I made sure to go back to thank him before we left for being so accommodating. I try not to be That Veg-Head but sometimes I just gotta speak up and ask for something without meat.

God, Toronto is such a chill city. Please adopt me, Canada. I can’t take it here anymore!

Took the street car thingie downtown. I was really getting used to public transportation by then and it’s a good thing because we used it A LOT on that day.

The water. ^^^

Chris recommended that we take the ferry to Toronto Island but Henry looked it up and it said it was “closed” until the following day.

Ok.

I wouldn’t have believed him but he showed me the website and it did say “closed until 7/31” on it, so no island adventures for us.

We saw these cute Corgis and then immediately missed Chooch because he is OBSESSED with Corgis lately which is cute but also annoying because he does some weird excited arm flap thing when he sees one.

I just can’t be associated with him when he does that weird derpy shit.

Henry made me go inside this Purina Pet thing which had a Rainbow Bridge area where people could write messages to their deceased pets and tack them up on a board. I write one for March and then immediately felt depressed because I’m just not “over” it and probably never will be, nor do I want to be. She is so special to me.

Meanwhile, there was the whole section of walls with pictures of pets and accompanying stories of their acts of heroics and sacrifice, which I made the mistake of reading some and then promptly started sobbing. I caught up with Henry who had wandered ahead and wailed, “Why did you bring me in here???”

I had to sit on a bench until I was able to be seen by the public eye again. Wouldn’t be my birthday unless tears were shed, so here’s to keeping tradition alive.

We decided it was time to start walking back away from the water and into the city to find somewhere to eat for lunch. In hindsight, I’m not sure why we hadn’t solidified lunch plans before leaving the airbnb, but whatever–I guess it wouldn’t be my birthday without my blood sugar dropping and my dormant homicidal side awakening.

We got caught in a horde of Blue Jay fans converging on the Rogers Centre, and then we came upon the front of the Air Canada Centre, where I needed to stand for an unlimited amount of time, waiting for the huge video screen on the front of the arena to flash something for G-Dragon’s show because I wanted to take a picture. We had to endure ads for Katy Perry and other dumb things, but finally, the Act III: Motte ad came up and I quickly snapped a picture. That’s when I noticed two girls nearby doing the same thing, so we laughed about it together and my heart felt so full because I was already connecting with other G-Dragon fans! Other people who get it, finally!

We walked through the inside of the Air Canada Centre, because it seemed like a very common thoroughfare for pedestrians. This is how we learned where we would need to go when we came back later, because there were already VIPs lining up inside, maybe about 75 to 100 of them. It was a little after 11am at this point, and check-in for the VIP tickets wasn’t until 3:45. I could tell Henry was briefly worried that I was going to decide to forego food and get in line with everyone else, but I just don’t think I have that endurance at this age! So we left the Air Canada Centre and continued our walk to the nearest subway station.

Everything was fine at first. We decided on some vegetarian place, so we got on a subway and then a streetcar, but while on the streetcar, Henry realized that he must have gotten “turned around” map-wise when we came out of the subway station, because he had us on a streetcar going the opposite direction.

This was phase one of preparing for my fire-breathing dragon act.

I did some mild berating of his weakened manhood {“Isn’t that like the #1 thing you fucking MEN love to brag about, your inherent ruling over maps? Your built-in navigational systems? Your compass-like dicks pointing the way?”) while we waited for another streetcar to take us back the way we came, thanks for wasting valuable time, Henry.

He kept apologizing and trying to laugh it off because hahahaha even men make mistakes once in a decade, hahhahaha. STFU and feed me you son of a bitch.

We get on a streetcar and a few minutes in, the driver makes an announcement that some road is closed and now the streetcar wasn’t going the way we needed it to go so Henry was like, “LET’S JUST GET OFF HERE AND FIGURE IT OUT” and by this point, I had reached full-blown hanger and didn’t care about going to whatever vegetarian place we had chosen anymore, I just wanted food in my fucking mouth, or an iced latte, so whatever came first was FINE BY ME.

But Henry insisted that this damn restaurant wasn’t too far away so he had his nose glued to his phone maps while I stomped along like a petulant child and I didn’t care who witnessed it at this point because the zipper ties on my true bipolar self only hold for so long and then the real Erin is devouring the fake smiles and sweet voice of Fake Erin because SHE HAS BEEN LOCKED UP FOR A WHILE NOW AND IS FUCKING FAMISHED, MOTHERFUCKERS. YOU’RE NEXT, HENRY.

Henry kept trying to make jokes but I was purposely walking several feet ahead of him because that’s what I do to punish him and I don’t think he ever really notices. We eventually did come across the restaurant he chose but it turned out to be inside some mall-like building so I spat, “Oh I’m not eating inside a mall, just no” like this was some terribly offensive thing for whatever reason and Henry had this, “Are you fucking serious?” look on his face but then remembered who he was dealing with, the girl who constantly adds to “Do Not Like” list on the fly but then tries to act like it’s always been that way, like how could you not know that, Henry? After 16 years you’re just now learning I won’t eat in a restaurant in a mall-like thing? UGH. DON’T YOU EVEN KNOW ME.

[Sidenote: I had declined a Fitbit weekend competition with Octavia because I figured Sunday would be such a bust, full of standing around at a concert all night and how would I get in any steps? But thanks to all this madness, I’d still wind up having over 22,000 steps by the end of the night, and that was even with all the standing in pre-concert lines that we would end up doing from 2:45-7:00.]

“Well, there’s another vegetarian restaurant a few minutes down this way,” Henry calmly said, consulting his phone. We crossed a street and he said it was literally a few 100 feet away, but out of spite, I chose this restaurant called Sin & Redemption instead because that’s just the kind of fucking asshole I am.

“But the other place is literally right—-” Henry started to say, but I had already walked inside this regular-people-food establishment after glancing the menu posted outside and seeing that they had a veggie wrap.

The host told us to choose somewhere to sit in the awkwardly-spaced out dining room, which only had one other table occupied, but Henry was being so indecisive over where to sit because he was worried about upsetting the Queen, so finally I yelled in an angry sing-song voice, “OMG JUST PICK SOMEWHERE” while flashing a sweet smile at the host.

Jesus Christ!!!

This place was awful, literally the only bad choice of the whole trip but that’s what happens when you listen to the hateful voice in your head and choose a place out of spite.

Our waiter was too busy having a clandestine relationship with the waitress, my wrap had no taste, Henry’s omelette was the size of an orphan’s fist, and the waiter took my plate away from me before I was finished eating my frittes, which was the only good part of the meal.

But this is what I do on my birthday — I throw tantrums and self-sabotage, so happy 38th birthday to me, to me, to me!

Henry and I barely spoke on the subway and streetcar ride back to Leslieville. By this point, it was nearly 2:00pm and I was past due for my second coffee refueling, so I demanded that Henry go back out somewhere and get me an iced latte while I laid on the bed and pouted. Before he left, I yelled after him, “And you’re not going to G-Dragon with me!”

He came back with an iced latte and a butter tart, my first and only butter tart in Canada. It was delicious and I didn’t give him one single bite, but I did allow him to go to the G-Dragon concert with me. Which is where we went as soon as I finished my butter tart! And if I’m being honest, I think a lot of the day’s badness was directly related to my mounting stress and anxiety over the concert—I was a nervous fucking wreck up until the moment we were finally inside that arena, in front of the stage. 

The rest of the day was so much better (I had one more moment of anger but that was directed toward LiveNation so Henry got to be on the same side as me for once because now we had a common enemy) but in the grand scheme of things, it was so good that it completely negated every single “bad” hunger-related moment that happened earlier and I can easily say that this was the best birthday of my life, terrible lunch, bad directions, and all.

The dumb church across the street from my house had their idiot festival all last week. I honestly couldn’t be bothered with this shit because it’s full of things I hate: church people and charity.

lol j/k some charities are ok.

Chooch, however, loves this gig. It doesn’t even have rides so I don’t quite understand what his fascination is but every night last week, Henry gave him a few bucks, told him to look both ways before crossing the street, then we went back to watching Running Man while Chooch swam in a sea of Bengay-stinkin’ elders.

At one point, he came barging in the house, eyes all bugged out, hands running through his hair, and cried, “I won $10 and then lost it! I think I have a gambling problem at age eleven! Can I have more money?!?”

“No!” we shouted in perfect parental unison.

But then he found $3 and took off.

He is a fucking nutcase.

(What if this is how people grow up to be gamblers for real, though??)

This went on every evening. Sometimes he went over alone, sometimes with the neighbor kids, and once with his school buddy Demajio. He brought home several stuffed animals in the midst of all the money he was essentially throwing into the wind.

Somewhere along the way, he mentioned the raffles.

“I entered to win a bike!” Chooch panted in excitement during one of his nightly check-ins which was less to appease our paranoia of his whereabouts and more to con more cash from our pockets. “I also entered to win you a new coffee maker! It’s a KEURIG!”

He was so excited about it that I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I graduated from Keurigs long ago.

Saturday was the big day. The winning raffle tickets were going to be drawn! Chooch was so concerned when I told him we were going to Vegfest that day, but then was super relieved when he realized we’d be home before the shitty festival started.

Meanwhile, I went out for one of my many walks around the neighborhood because I am having the hardest time sitting still these days. It’s like my feet are desperate to catch up to my racing mind. Anyway, I had only made it a block away before being accosted by the weird lady who lives in the big, creepy white house on the corner with who we think is possibly her brother?! I always try to avoid her because sometimes I feel like I’m looking at my future as the town eccentric.

I was walking past her sidewalk when I saw her coming toward me.

“You been to the fair yet?” she asked, skipping over any customary salutations.

“No, I don’t care about that fair,” I said over my shoulder, hoping that my snotty tone would deter her.

But no, she kept talking, and for whatever reason, I turned with a groan and walked back to the end of her sidewalk, where she had stpped to lean against her old shitty pick-up truck. “Yeah, but it’s not the kind of the fair that has RIDES and all that crap,” she said. Um excuse me, but the fact that it doesn’t have rides is exactly WHY I don’t care about it! “They got all kinds of games, and a BAKE SALE in the basement!” And then she proceeded to explain to me how to enter the basement even though I said I already knew because hello, that’s where I go to have Russia fuck with my vote.

“You know Potomac Bakery?” she asked, waiting for my nod. “OK, and you know how they sell their day-old stuff for cheap?” I didn’t know that, but I said yes anyway because WHY OH WHY OH DID I EVER LEAVE OHIO.

Sorry. Quoting Back to the Beach is my nervous tic.

“Well at the church, they’re doing that too. They had boxes of old stuff they were giving away for free. Like donuts, I don’t care for donuts, but there was other stuff too, like bread. Anyway, I’m going to go back there today and say something, because I asked how much I could take and they were like ‘well, it’s free….’ so I took it all! And when I was leaving, one of those ladies said to me, ‘I hope you’re going to make a donation!’ Excuse me? Then they shouldn’t have said it was FREE!” she cried. “Yeah, I’m going to go back and say something to them tonight.”

“Yeah, that’s misleading,” I muttered, trying to blink the glaze away from my eyes.

“You know all these churches are going under, right? A bunch of them are closing. It’s a shame. But you know, maybe if their PRIESTS would stop molesting people, this wouldn’t be happening! And now we have all these gays and…what do you call them…those, you know, ‘genders.’ Maybe if the church would let the priests get MARRIED, they wouldn’t have to go around ruining so many lives!”

“Yeah….” I whispered, looking around to make sure no one was hearing this.

“I went to Catholic school, back in the days when the nuns would whack you on the wrists with rulers!” she exclaimed. “But yeah, you should go over to the fair tonight! Fifty cent baked goods, can’t beat that!” And with that, she turned and started rummaging though her truck and I hot-stepped it the fuck out of there.

Later that night, Chooch was in his glory, spinning wheels and filling Bingo cards. He dramatically entered the house early on in the evening, hoisting a Trader Joe’s bag.

“Look what I won!” he cried, pulling out a roll of paper towels, White Rain shower gel, powdered sugar, green beans, two cans of soup neither of us can eat because meat, and a huge generic jar of peanut butter.

Henry and I just stared at this random array of food bank loot, while Chooch looked at us expectantly, waiting for praise. Finally, I just cracked the fuck up.

“What the hell kind of wheel are you spinning over there??”

Am I missing something? Was this like a Chopped challenge for a greater prize? I’M SO CONFUSED.

I told him that crazy lady was talking about the bake sale, and he knowingly said, “Oh yeah, it’s in the basement.”

“Well go buy me some stuff!” I cried, and he seemed excited to have a mission. He came back with several plates of so-so treats.

“And these cookies were 4 for a dollar. I thought that was a pretty good deal,” he said, and boy can you tell he’s been hanging out with old people.

Not pictured are the two buckeyes that Chooch and I devoured before he even had a chance to put all  the plates down on the table. LOVE US SOME BUCKEYES, BITCHES.

Meanwhile, Henry was across the street trying to win shit too. He also put some more raffle tickets in the basket for the bike Chooch wanted, a steak dinner at Capital Grill (ew), and a lottery tree.  When he came back, he said Chooch’s nemesis Larry’s wife was so drunk over there that two people had to practically carry her back to her house across the street. And that Jackie the Witch was over there with some guy who was equally-as-hammered as Larry’s wife. He threw down a hundred dollar bill on some game and of course he lost, so he started yelling about the game being fixed. Our neighbors, keepin’ Brookline classy as always.

When henry came back in the house, he was inspecting the goods Chooch purchased at the bake sale.

“Fifty cent baked goods, can’t beat that!” I said with faux-enthusiasm. “Oh, and Chooch also got buckeyes but we ate them without you,” I blurted out on a bed of needling laughter.

“The buckeyes were actually $1 though,” Henry said.

“How would you know?” I asked all haughtily.

“Because I bought some too, and ate them without you!” Henry laughed. That motherfucker! Ugh, well-played.

By 10:30 that night, the fair was winding down. The DJ played his last dumb doowop track and the prize wheels went for one last clickety spin. I actually felt a little sad because I sort of enjoyed the sounds of that crappy fair wafting in through my windows every night. A little action is nice every now and then.

Chooch and Henry were over there until nearly 11 waiting on the raffle drawings. They finally came back after realizing that there were 100+ prize baskets and the church said they would just call each winner the next day since they had so many to go through.

This wasn’t what Chooch wanted to hear, but he dealt with it and went to sleep.

The next morning, chooch and I were walking to Cafe Noir for our weekend coffee/hot chocolate ritual. Chooch was rambling on and on about the raffle, about the Giant mountain bike, how the Keurig came with a mug that says I Love Jesus—we both lost it at the thought of me drinking coffee from a mug like that.

I asked him whose number he put on his tickets, mine or Henry’s.

“Jaden’s mom,” he said nonchalantly.

I stopped in my tracks. “What? Why??” I asked, thoroughly confused.

“Because I was over there with her and Jaden when I first entered the raffle. Just my first three tickets have her number on it. I didn’t have a chance to change it.”

This made zero sense to me.

“So if they draw your ticket and call her, do you think she is going to give you that bike?” I said, less of a question and more of a THINK ABOUT IT statement.

Chooch paused. With forced confidence, he slowly said yes. But the realization of what he had done was starting to blow up the blood vessels in his PRECIOUS LITTLE ANGEL CHEEKS – seriously I want Chooch to always have those cute pinchable cheeks haha.

I reminded Chooch that he still had the tickets that Henry bought him, so all hope was not lost, but in the back of my mind, I already knew how this would play out. The writing was on Chooch’s cheeks.

Hours passed with no call from the church.

Later that afternoon, we saw Jaden’s mom walking across the street.

Walking through the church parking lot.

Walking into the church gymnasium.

Walking out with one Giant mountain bike.

KNEW IT.

I held back from screaming TOLD YOU SO. Chooch was crushed. Totally ripped apart.

“There’s a 50/50 chance that it really was Jaden’s ticket though,” I pointed out, because Chooch said they had split a strip of tickets.

What I didn’t know was that Jaden’s mom paid for all of them. I thought chooch had given her money for his half. So technically….regardless whose name was on that ticket….

Jaden’s mom bought it.

“All you can do is just make yourself believe it was Jaden’s ticket and move on,” Henry-Knows-Best said like it was a fortune pulled straight from a cookie.

“Or!!!! I can go ask to see the ticket!!!!” Chooch cried in a really scary, BOY ON THE EDGE warble.

He was reaching for the front door when I stopped him because hello that’s our neighbor and the last thing I care to have is drama. Asking to see the ticket is basically accusing her of being a liar. I don’t even know this woman, but I want to believe that she was going the right thing and I have no reason to think otherwise.

Chooch was straight up pacing. “I will wait until tonight AND DIG THRU HER GARBAGE IF I HAVE TO!”

Oh for Gods sake.

I suggested that we go get ice cream as a distraction.

“Pfft! I don’t need ice cream,” Chooch scoffed. “….I need a gallon.”

“Wow. Did you just break up with a girl?” Henry laughed.

We ended up going to Target so he could pick out something small to fill the void left by the Bike of Betrayal. As usual, he couldn’t decide on anything, but I bought this AMAZING GAME called Fündopop which is basically Thingie Ball 2.0 and I’m so excited about it because I have been looking for a Thingie Ball replacement for years. 

We went across the street to play in the church parking lot (ironically) and Chooch was like, “I’m really glad we bought this. It’s taking my mind off the bike. Oh god now I’m thinking about the bike again!”

He is wrecked.

Meanwhile, we made Henry come over to watch us play because after two minutes we became experts and were getting all cocky and arrogant about how amazing we are at Fündopop and demanded an audience.

While we were playing, some old bitch was in the parking lot, stuffing into her car a large, inflatable tree dripping with scratch off tickets.

“LOL, there goes your lottery tree, Henry,”I laughed.

“Son of a bitch!” Henry spat.

Chooch spent the next day avoiding Jaden,  but by Tuesday he was ready to “face his fears,” as he put it. He said Jaden told him it honestly was his own ticket that was drawn, and Chooch said he believes him and has made peace with the whole situation, friendship intact.

He is way more mature than I am, that’s for sure. I’d have held an unrealistic grudge for years and probably would have signed the subject of my hatred up for Scientology or advertised their kidneys on Craigslist.

You don’t know what I’m capable of.

If there’s one thing Chooch learned through all of this, it’s NEVER SPLIT A STRIP OF RAFFLE TICKETS. And also, two buckeyes for $1 seems like a rip-off.

Keep reading for the not-anticipated conclusion to the cliffhanger from the previous post! So exciting!

….we were halfway back to Leslieville. Henry suggested that we keep walking and just jump on a streetcar when we got tired, but I was having so much fun! The sun was setting, lights were coming on, and the streets were bustling. I loved it—it reminded me of being in Europe as a kid! I asked Henry if just walking the whole way back to Leslieville was do-able, and he muttered, “I mean, I guess.”

I took that as CHALLENGE ACCEPTED so we continued our leisurely stroll through Chinatown where we stopped to get tea at Ichi Tea House, and checked out some street art.

I excitedly hypothesized, “What if G-Dragon was getting ice cream from that ice cream truck right now!?” and Henry just scrunched up his weathered skull-mask in a “don’t be stupid” expression which is basically just his everyday face these days.

Shit started to get fancier by the block and we realized we were in the fashion district, so G-Dragon could have definitely been nearby! I made Henry to see if there was a Gentle Monster in Toronto because maybe he would be there, but there was not  Gentle Monster in Toronto.

Sigh.

Henry and I might have held hands a little. You’ll never know.

We rolled up on this by accident and I was so happy! It was really the only touristy thing we did. (I had a small desire to go in the CN Tower but I also was worried about how much time it would take. So maybe next time when we have Chooch with us!)

There was some dance competition happening on a stage in this plaza but it wasn’t Kpop dancing so what did I care. Just a bunch of dumb little girls in their stupid leotards.

I had to pee really bad when we were downtown still so we popped into a Tim Horton’s, where I accidentally let the door close behind me on some really old homeless guy. A cop was coming out of Tim Horton’s as I was going in and hurriedly held the door open for him and it was like, a really big To Do.

Dumb Probably Pro-Trump American Broad Lets Door Slam on Homeless Man.

Seriously though the cop acted like a fucking hero and I’m surprised he didn’t arrest me to really drive it home, you know? I even said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!” but the old man didn’t even acknowledge me so maybe he didn’t even realize that his face was nearly smashed by the door that I so recklessly failed to hold.

MAYBE I’M BLOWING IT OUT OF PROPORTION.

Henry owned this block. 

After I peed and Henry bought a bag of Timbits, we continue our trek until suddenly, almost without notice, we went from the flashy fashion district to DARK, EMPTY STREETS and SHAMBLING UNSAVORIES.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I whispered through clenched teeth, clutching Henry’s hand.

“Good one, Erin. Yeah, let’s walk back. This is great,” Henry sighed.

We walked past an ominous park where we could detect the shapes of people having some kind of suspicious interaction.

“Yeah, that doesn’t look bad at all,” Henry said, keeping his focus straight ahead, pretending like he saw nothing.

We walked past some winos hanging on the front stoop of an apartment; one of them screamed to me, “SHE JUST DID HER LAUNDRY!” and I just wanted to cry.

Also, my feet were really starting to feel the effects of the EIGHTEEN MILES we had walked that day.

But soon we were at the bridge to Leslieville, the homestretch! And because this was Canada, the beautiful land that birthed Degrassi and Drake, nothing happened to us. Even their hoodlums & hooligans are nice! 

When we turned on the street of our airbnb, there were several girls sitting on the road in just their bras and pants, so that was interesting. The house behind them was on the market for $998,000, but I guess even rich neighborhoods get trash on the streets every once in awhile.

By the end of the night, my Fitbit said I had walked 42,0000 steps — a new record for me! (That I know of, anyway.)

What a memorable day. Even with all the walking we did, I had a hard time falling asleep because it was G-Dragon Eve!

After a morning & afternoon of ambling about Koreatown<3, we rested at our Airbnb for approximately 20 minutes (lol sorry Henry) before I declared it was coffeetime. Henry consulted a map, because that’s what big strong men do, and determined that we could just walk to the cafe I chose (Hailed Coffee, read more a few posts back if you’re so inclined) and then walk a few blocks to a subway station to set off for Hogtown Vegan, where we unanimously decided to eat dinner.

Neither of us were particularly hungry yet after stuffing ourselves at Korea House, but we figured with all the walking we were about to do, we’d arrive at Hogtown Vegan right before my hunger turned me into a claw-bearing, hissing hothead.

Our walk to the subway took us through Greektown! It was really tempting to hang out there and get some falafel. Toronto, you have too many options!

By now, I was feeling fine with the subway. If we had relied on our own car or Uber, we never would have had the chance to experience Toronto this way. I’m glad Henry listened to me when I suggested it.

(Lol jk – this was all his plan and my initial reaction was YOU WANNA WHAT?! WHY?? because you know me and that public transportation battle.)

This time when we exited the subway at the Christie stop, we went right on Bloor instead of left, where my beloved Koreatown <3 is. (Don’t worry, babe—we’ll be back.) 

I was just wondering out loud if there was also a Little India when we crossed over to another block and the beautiful stench of curry filled our nostrils. I don’t know it was an official India section of town, but there were definitely a lot of Indian restaurants! So again, I was tempted to trade in Hogtown Vegan for some paneer and samosas.

Ugh, choices!

It was around this time that I made Henry look up incoming flights from NYC, because I wanted to go to the airport and stalk greet G-Dragon.

“That’s what kids do!” Henry cried, but he still looked up the flights like a good boy. He claimed that all the flights had already landed and that there were no more NYC flights listed for the day, but he could have told me anything and I would have had no choice but to believe him since I couldn’t verify on my own phone, thanks Canada-less data plan.

Hogtown Vegan was roughly 7? 8? blocks from the subway station. Who knows. Hopefully no one comes here looking for accuracy. We’re all about the FAKE NEWS ’round here.

“We’re” — you know, me and my staff.

I just learned that Hogtown is a nickname for Toronto. I couldn’t figure out why else a vegan restaurant would be named Hogtown because typically, if I saw a restaurant with that name, my mind would go straight to bacon and I would think it was some mega-meat hut.

True to Toronto’s form, the staff in this joint was so great! I really liked our waitress — she was so fucking cute and when I started my order with my signature meek inquiry of, “Can I have….”, she answered, “Of course you can!”

I don’t know why I order food that way. Instead of being all assertive and STATING what I want, I always pose it as a shaky question. Maybe because I’m so used to the waiter coming back and saying, “OH I’M SORRY BUT WE’RE ALL OUT OF THAT” or “WE DON’T ACTUALLY OFFER THAT ANYMORE YOU HAVE AN OUTDATED MENU I GUESS TOO BAD SO SAD” so now I feel the need to question if I can have what I want.

Ugh, my life.

Henry got something. He liked it.

I ordered the Unchicken and Waffles, which came with a  dollop of sweet potato mash (it was terrific, better than Thanksgiving) and collard greens which I just can’t like, sorry Mother Earth for rejecting one of your babies. Anyway, my entrée is what Hogtown Vegan is known for and I’m not surprised — that was the best fake chicken I’ve ever had in my 21 year meat ban. Typically, when I eat things like this, I have to go into it with the mindset that I’m not eating something that is meant to replace the thing that I no longer eat, so that I can fully appreciate the thing for its own unique flavor.

DOES THAT MAKE SENSE OR NAH?

But this unchicken was fucking bomb. It tasted real! The texture was SICK! I have never had fake chicken with such realistic mouth-feel!

The food here was hearty as fuck. I couldn’t clean my plate so Henry had to help me (and he was happy to, believe me). When you eat at a place like this, it will quickly dispel the myth that all vegans are malnourished waifs.

Trust.

Meanwhile, there was family of three at the table next to us. Their little boy was probably about 3 and he made me miss Chooch SO MUCH that I actually started crying for a minute or two. Henry rolled his eyes and reminded me that if Chooch was there, we would probably be bickering because that’s our schtick.

We bicker. Quarrel. Nit-pick. Compete.

We’re ridiculous.

But being there with Henry made me realize that as much as I love being together as a family, sometimes it’s necessary for Henry and I to get away for a bit and be a couple. I think he was less stressed because he only had one person’s happiness to maintain all weekend, instead of contending with me and Chooch crying about being hungry and wanting him to buy us things and CARRY US HENRY, WE’RE TIRED. So in other words, this was almost like a real vacation for Henry!

There were moments of tension—because we’re a couple and we’re traveling, nerves are gonna be struck eventually—but this particular evening was WUNDERBAR.

We finished up dinner and continued to stroll around Bloor Street, stopping at a super new-age-y pet shop called EarthEchoes, the proprietor of which was strutting about the shop in bare feet and some really scary guy with face tattoos was feeding the reptiles.

“Jesus Christ, that guy looks like he just got out of prison for murder,” Henry said.

This place was nuts. There were snakes and chameleons and tropical birds EVERYWHERE. I totally fell in love with Bradly, the store’s pet Savannah Monitor.

“Are they mean?” I asked Henry while Bradly was flicking his tongue at me from between the cage bars.

“Um, yeah,” Henry said before I shoved my whole arm in the cage to caress Bradly.

Henry pulled me out of the store before I took off my shoes, got a face tattoo, and started luring in homeless people for Bradly to feed on.

I talked about how awesome that store was for like, three whole blocks until we dipped into a junk store.

Then Henry distracted me before I found a new wheelchair for the collection by suggesting that we get a beer, which is something that I can do now.

“Get a beer.”

Except that I have to ask questions like, “Do you have wheat beer? OK but if I like <x> and <y> then will I like <z>?” and then I order the opposite of what the bartender suggests and Henry is like, “You won’t like that” but then I like it….

…for the first two sips, until the after taste kicks in.

And that’s exactly what happened at Disgraceland!

I got something that I can’t remember. It was on tap and Henry said I wouldn’t like it but the bartender let me taste it and I was like, “Wow this isn’t bad” and it actually wasn’t bad except that at the end of the day, I just really don’t LIKE beer. I have just found a few that I can TOLERATE. I’m learning that this is a big difference. But at least I’m trying, unlike Henry and coffee!

I love a good basement bathroom!

The bartender was really great. He was very helpful, and also super apologetic that he didn’t really have much in the vein of wheat beers to offer me, so he started listing off suggestions in the area of bars that are well-known for their crazy beer collection and how this broad at this bar used to be the bartender at some other bar, and blah blah blah. I didn’t have the heart to tell him we were dumb Americans on vacation and had no idea what he was going on about.

I just appreciated that he was attentive but not overbearing. And I really enjoyed the ambiance of the bar. The music was grungy, the art on the wall featured spider people and I wanted to buy one but the one I wanted, one that reminded me of Robert Smith and Lydia Lunch, was already sold. :( Henry was happy though because they were all $200.

Disgraceland has a vegan comfort food menu! I wished we hadn’t just eaten dinner, but now at least I have somewhere else to add to the food list if and when we visit Toronto again.

Oh I just checked their menu and I believe I drank the Amsterdam 3-Speed and by that I mean that I nursed it forever and then made Henry drink the last third.

“I was just going to ask if you guys wanted another round, but considering she just gave you the rest of her beer….” the bartender laughed.

I felt like I had to justify the fact that this was actually good for me, that I basically considered it a win, because he was nice and I felt like I was offending him, like he hatched all the beer himself in his bedroom beer-incubator.

Also on Bloor, we went into Through Being Cool, which I had heard about via some Toronto vlogger, because why Google when you can just have pretentious local YouTubers tell you about all the cool shit to do in town. Through Being Cool is a vegan bakery but they also sell vegan goods from other local companies too. I’m not sure if they’re named after the Devo song or the Saves the Day album, but their name is definitely what drew me in.

I’m easily hooked.

I had no idea that this place was even on our route, so it was a happy accident.

Neither of us had any room in our bellies, but we wanted to get some donuts to take back to the room with us, save them for breakfast,  chuck them at orphans, use them to play ring toss with a nude Mounty on Viagra, it’s really none of your business.

However! While we were looking at the packaged food in the cooler (things like vegan chicken salad and homemade vegan cheese), a couple came in and ordered a bunch of donuts. Then another guy came in and got to the counter right before us and he ordered a dozen donuts which made Henry agitated because “Who orders a dozen donuts at 7:30pm?!”

But then he fucking took the DONUT I WANTED. Some raspberry thing and it was THE ONLY ONE OF ITS KIND.

JUST LIKE G-DRAGON.

IT WAS THE G-DRAGON OF DONUTS AND THAT MOTHERCANUCKER TOOK IT.

So I did my “JUST FORGET IT” song and dance and we left.

It could have ruined my night. In Pittsburgh, my night would have been shot to hell. I probably would have flipped a garbage can. But Toronto Erin was minding her temper, although she did bring it up at 37 sporadic moments during the night, but just in a casual, “Remember when that guy took my donut? I hope he chokes” kind of way.

And then we began our trek back to Leslieville, which was supposed to be via subway but it was a really beautiful night and we were enjoying the sights, and the next thing we knew…

Lol cliffhanger.