My birthdays were always 100% solid when I was a kid. My Pappap made sure of that! My expectations are always stupid high now though and guess what THERE IS NO PAPPAP MAKING SHIT HAPPEN FOR ME ANYMORE.

LOL.

Just kidding, I’m crying.

Because they were always so special to me, I always try hard to make Chooch’s special and memorable too. Maybe he doesn’t give a shit about it right now, but hopefully one day when he’s older and no one babies him anymore on his dumb birthday, he’ll go home and call up on my blog by pointing at the air in front of him and the words will twist themselves into a holographic recreation of whatever birthday he’s reading about so he’ll get to experience it all over again, even the stench of his shitty diaper at his first birthday party and the sound of my friend Lauren’s son breaking his arm at Chooch’s 7th birthday party at the roller rink.

That’s what I imagine the future will be like, OK?

Just in case it’s like that, here is what we did on his actual birthday, which fell on a Tuesday:

First, we had dinner at Bado’s. Our waiter was a young ditzy boy who might have been still in high school, who can tell these days. He didn’t spill anything on us, at least.

It was also BALLOON NIGHT at Bado’s and at first I thought it was going to be annoying as fuck, but when the balloon lady wheeled her cart of latex (that could have been so much cooler) to our table, she was actually pretty awesome and we had a splendid conversation with her, which culminated with she and Chooch sharing pictures of their cats with each other.

Henry couldn’t have been more uncomfortable, like she was going to ask him if he wanted a balloon thong or VHS porno.

(It’s been a long day.)

Behind Henry was a booth with two guys and their super young kids. It was less My Two Dads and more The Wives Made Us Take the Kids Out with Us, What Do We Do? How About Just Ignore Them.

I thought Henry was actually going to turn around and say something at one point but nope. True to form, he just sighed and mindlessly scrolled through his phone.

The food was OK, though!

Afterward, Chooch insisted on going to Chuck E. Cheese.

“At first I was just joking….but now I kind of want to go,” he sheepishly told me that morning. Ugh, FML. He was all impressed that I was playing games, but it was just because I was trying to burn through the tokens faster so we could leave.

ANYTHING TO MAKE THE KID SMILE, I GUESS, UGH.

That balloon lady was so legit, though.

***

Meanwhile, we had been planning a surprise party for him on Saturday. If we’re being honest, I almost let this birthday pass us by without a party but then I decided to go the surprise route because we’ve never done that to him yet and I love fucking with the kid.

We kept it small and chill.

Because one day he might want to look up the guest list of some arbitrary childhood birthday party as the determining factor of whether he should a grudge against someone (totally not at all something I would ever be petty enough to do), here is the guest list. If you’re on it, odds are you’re safe. (For now.)

• Blake & Haley (our helpers in keeping Chooch away from the house, god bless them)
• Chris & Monica
• Janna
• Kara, Harland, Theo
• My mom
• Judy
• Chris, Kari, Katelyn
• Wonka, Jess, Cosi, Anais
• Ricky & Dawn (they had the fun task of hiding their hearse somewhere Chooch wouldn’t see it lol)
• Henry’s sister, Zac & Brian

My house is super small so that was a lot of people to cram up in there, quietly to boot! I was so nervous because Chooch is a wildcard. You never know how he will react. I was worried he might get upset or punch me so I threw out the script where I cried “Surprise! We’re putting you up for adoption!” and went with the more traditional “Surprise!” /end

I bought a confetti cannon too, and decided that henry was the only one qualified to use it, you know, since he was in the Service and I was just a measly GIRL SCOUT.

Finally, it was 7:30 and Chooch returned home with Blake & Haley…

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His froyo, tho!

He was genuinely surprised! We had a few close calls, like when he was watching videos on Henry’s phone and got a notification that I updated his surprise party even page on Facebook…..

I pretended like his dinner at Tillies last week was supposed to be the surprise but then no one aside my brother and mom and Judy could make it. He never mentioned it again.

The theme was “butterflies” since he abhors  them. My favorite thing about this cake was not the taste (it was just so-so), but the fact that DeLuca’s Bakery kept the Shutterstock watermark on it.

I even got him a purple tiara with a butterfly on it and of course snapped nary a picture of him wearing it. I was off my game that night.

I promised that there wouldn’t be any Korean stuff and even put on the Penguins game for everyone. We beat the Capitals 6-2!

The back porch really came in handy because there were so many people crammed into my clown car of a house, so Kara & her kids, Chronica, Haley, Blake, & Chooch migrated out there and watched Chooch put together his Nano Block sets.

I mean, they probably talked, too, I would imagine.

Chooch was really obnoxious and borderline rude when he was opening his presents, which was very early on in the night. I’m hoping it was just because he was still overwhelmed and not because THIS IS ELEVEN. Several times I flat out told him to stop being rude. But then once attention was off him, he seemed like regular Chooch again.

Good, because I wasn’t impressed with his newfound cockiness.

I was going to wrap a box of toothpicks as a gift, but I thought that might push him over the edge. It didn’t stop some of my friends from making perfectly-callous references to it, though. I love my friends.

My hope is that Chooch will look back on these parties and know that he’s loved.

I just told him this was his last birthday party ever and he got really sad, lol.

…sad that this beautiful weekend is nearly over. We had a successful surprise party for Chooch, got to hang out with some of our favorite people, and today Henry HELD MY HAND during our walk through Brookline (because I latched on and wouldn’t let go but still).

Now I’m relaxing with MVs because I’m 16 and I’m trying to take my mind off of the stress of buying G-Dragon tickets. 

“You have teenage priorities,” Henry said.

IT’S CALLED HAVING PASSIONS, BUT OK. 

More later. I’m tired. 

Basement is currently on tour with Thursday and Touche Amore and I was disappointed that there was no Pittsburgh show. But then Basement announced that they were coming here on one of their off-dates! Henry is pretty ambivalent about Basement* so I didn’t even bother asking him to go with me. I just bought a ticket for one (so sad) and told him he had to drop me off at Cattivo after work on Wednesday.

*(He didn’t go with me the first time I saw them at Altar Bar and he didn’t even stand me when I was right in front of the stage for them at Riot Fest. Henry hates British people. Pass it on.)

We got there a bit before doors opened so I told Henry to just drive around so I didn’t have to stand in line with my head down, praying no one would talk to me. So Henry drove past Cattivo and made a right.

“Hey look, that’s probably Basement’s van,” Henry said, and then, “Hey look, someone just got out.” So he turned around because I was interested in seeing who it was. It turned out to be Al, and he’s my favorite!!

He was walking down a dead end street which leads toward the river, and Henry fucking turned down the street and followed him in spite of my protests. There was literally no reason for us to be driving down there, and it was clear that we were stalking the poor guy, so he looked extremely startled when Chooch put down the window and cried, “Hi AL!!!” Like, were we about to shove a burlap sack over his head and hogtie him in our trunk? YOU NEVER CAN TELL WITH US.

“Oh, hi,” he cautiously said back to us, and then we made eye contact so I felt obligated to also say hi as I was sliding down in the front seat into the puddle of anxiety I had created on the floor.

And then Henry promptly turned the car around and drove off.

It was so embarrassing. Like when your dad drives you to school and your little brother says something dumb out  the window to the cute skater guy that you’re obsessed with, Scott Dambaugh who, what now?

Luckily, Chooch wasn’t wearing his Tuesdays with Tay shirt that features Al, because then this probably would have been just one more instance of Chooch stealing bands away from me. (NEVER FORGET: THE T-SHIRT THAT RUINED MY LIFE.)

Ugh. After that happened, I made them drop me off a block away from Cattivo so they wouldn’t have a chance to strike twice.

I was blessed to have an evening of relative invisibility. I sank into the wall and was the victim of no small talk, no sleazy accidental touching, and no drunken Yinzer rudeness whatsoever. Thank you, concert overlords.

The first band to play was Primer & Grayscale, a local band I first saw several months ago at Smiling Moose. I think they were opening the Pianos Become the Teeth show, but I am too lazy and unconcerned at the moment to fact check that. Which is why my blog is fake news. Anyhow, I fucking fell in love with these guys from the get-go and immediately started following them on Instagram and Facebook, which is actually how I found out about this show. I bought my ticket directly from them because if you don’t support local bands, you’re dead to me.

I forgot how great they are, to be honest, so hearing them the other night was like falling in love all over again. They opened with a new song and it made me catch my breath.

Please give these guys your ears for just a few moments and let their emo majesty swaddle your soul. I want them to play in my living room. LIKE RIGHT NOW. I’ll pause the Kpop that’s currently playing, just for them.

The second band was also local. Swiss Army.

They were alright and seemed to get the crowd hyped, and maybe it was just because my back was starting to hurt and I was hungry and tired, but they weren’t holding my attention. I didn’t feel all jammed up with the warm, moist feels like Primer & Grayscale had previously provided. Now I was just cold and lonely and wanting the night to hurry up and end.

Seriously though, I was “chew on my hair” hungry.

Thankfully, there were just three bands on the bill that night, and Basement started promptly at 8:45. Early shows are the best shows.

This was my third time seeing them in just over a year (remember, this is the band that threw a wrench in Henry’s original itinerary for last year’s Disney trip lol) so I felt super lucky. There’s a certain energy they exude that I was desperate to take in that night, like a sonic slap to the face to wake me up. I’ve been doing OK lately but these kinds of wake up calls are always valued.

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I quickly went from being cold and cranky to sweaty and SO FUCKING STOKED. I was still really hungry though so when I got in the car after the show and saw that Henry had a bag of pretzels, I snatched it out of his lap and ate like a hungry, hungry hippo. If concerts could curb appetites, I’d be a fucking waif.

Anyway, that was my night at Cattivo. I didn’t hate anyone and I adored 2 out of 3 bands.

Last week, I was doing my routine lunch break roaming. I generally don’t have a destination in mind, I just kind of roll with it, and if something eventful happens—cool. If not, at least I racked up some steps, amirite? Well, two days in a row I had an eventful walk. Here, let me tell you all about it. Stay for a spell, WON’T YOU.

1. The Lady In the Road

On Thursday, my free-form pavement pounding found me crossing the Rachel Carson bridge. I only know that’s the bridge I was on because there are pennants hanging all over it that say RACHEL CARSON with some broad’s face on it.

A thing to note about me is that I am VERY SCARED of bridges, but I try to cross one on foot every now and again as a psychological exercise. On windy days, I am fraught with fear. FRAUGHT. And one time I was certain the man in front of me had a bomb and I started to have blurred vision.

I made it off the bridge though in case you were wondering.

OK, back to the Rachel Carson bridge. I was on it. Everything was going as fine as it could be for someone with a crippling fear of hovering atop a disgusting river. I was almost to the end of the bridge when the man who was walking a few yards ahead of me took off into a sprint. I shrugged it off as a sudden burst of energy, but then panicked because what if he knew that the bridge was about to buckle!?

Turns out, he was running to assist a woman who was sprawled out in the middle of the road just a bit away from the end of the bridge. Several other people were gathered around, cars were pulled over, a bus too.

There was a white towel laying near her head.

I knew almost immediately that something was wrong.

In case you couldn’t figure that out.

The Alcoa building was right next to the intersection where this scene was playing out, and several people had congregated on the sidewalk. I walked up to an older woman and asked, “Was she hit by a car?” But her response to me was screeching in Pittsburghese, “OH MY GAWD THAT WAS TURRIBLE! THAT WAS TURRIBLE! OH, I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT HAPPENED!” and then she balled up her hands, stamped her feet, and screamed, “OOOH GAWD!” and walked away from me, tears spurting from her eyes.

I clearly wasn’t getting the 411 from her, and I deduced that whatever had happened, it took place mere seconds before I came across the bridge. So by this point, numerous people were on the phone with 911, and little ol’ Erin hanging around, with an iced lavender latte in one clammy paw, was not going to help the situation in any sense whatsoever. I lowered my head a bit and slowly walked away, and then once I got to the next block, I started crying. That poor lady! I don’t know her, or what she was doing, where she was going, but I knew that I just wanted her to be OK.

And I barely care about people, so that says a lot. I must have been struck by the gods of humanity at a weak moment, I don’t know.

By the time I made it to the next block, I could hear sirens in the distance, and my legs turned to noodles. So then I dove into an endless abyss of hypotheticals and what-ifs.

I texted my friend Debbie who works in the building right next to the accident scene and she replied to me later on to tell me that it ended up being a woman who works in her building, and that luckily she was OK – just sore and bruised.

Such a relief!

Caring is a weird feeling.

2. Bring Some Home For Daddy

I occasionally see this super disheveled yet exuberant man ambling about the ‘Burgh aimlessly, I guess the same way I do except I don’t yell uplifting platitudes at strangers or sing to myself.

Yet, anyway.

I walked past him one day about a month ago while he was looking into a store window and he was momentarily sidetracked from whatever mental mathematics he was chugging through with the aid of his fingers and an imaginary abacus.

“Oh, you have a nice day, pretty lady! Yeah, you have a nice day, now!” he sputtered jovially, and I thanked him because I’ll take compliments from anyone, NO DISCRIMINATION HERE, but I did pick up my pace a bit because…yikes.

It occurred to me that he looked really familiar, like maybe I had seen him the last time I was in the psych ward, but then I realized he looked like one of the baggers at Kuhn’s, and that is a huge feat for me to remember someone who works at Kuhn’s considering I’ve only gone there maybe 10 times in the last 16 years.

Hello, Henry-oppa does all the domestic bitch work.

I described him to Henry who admitted that he did sound familiar based on my impeccable profiling skills. But this wasn’t good enough and I set off on a mission to take his picture.

Fast forward to last Friday. A beautiful spring day, lots of activity downtown. Glenn mentioned that there was a stand in Market Square giving away tomato plants or something and I wanted one, so I stopped there first and found the stand. I just stood there for a few seconds and no one gave me anything, so I got mad and moved on to another booth where I got to try a sample of some kind of honey water. It was OK.

None of this has anything to do with the point of this story, but I felt the need to include it.

I did a huge loop around the Point and circled back onto Liberty Avenue, which is where a lot of hot messes can be found.

Just as I was approaching Planned Parenthood, I saw him. He was rummaging into a basket of chalk to help one of the protesters desecrate the sidewalk with her cheap message. I thought to myself, “Wow, a two-for-one special!” as I readied my phone.

Just as I took the picture, the man turned and looked straight at me. I mean, see for yourself:

I froze, wondering if he was going to be angry. Instead, he moved toward me quickly and put his fist up, so I was like, “Oh ok. I’ll play” and humored him with a fist bump. This was already breaking my NO HUMAN CONTACT rule, but whatever. I was in a good mood (no thanks to those motherfuckers in Market Square, denying me a tomato thing).

And then…

Oh god…

I barely have it in me to say…

The horrors….

He pulled me in, so fucking fast, into a suffocating bear hug.

It was like that Tango move. You know the one. Where the dude just yanks the broad into him.

THAT HAPPENED TO ME ON THE SIDE OF LIBERTY AVENUE.

IN FRONT OF PEOPLE.

I froze. Completely shut down. Went limp.

Obviously he smelled pretty bad, and he was so sweaty, oh my god, the dampness of his untucked shirt….

The dampness.

So much moisture on that shirt.

TOUCHING ME.

I began to hear the sounds of wavering sheet metal in my ears, which usually means I’m about to pass out, die, or be lifted up into space by a beam of light.

Did you know that I hate hugs? I don’t even like hugging my friends. In high school, Lisa used to chase me around and threaten me with hugs all the time. I have a picture somewhere depicting one such occasion but alas, I am not in a position to search for said picture at this precise moment in time.

But anyway – back to the wet embrace. I was still all up in those stinky pits, pinned against his soggy shirt, feeling his hot breath against the side of my head as he gushed in the voice of 1940s radio personality, “Aren’t you just a pretty little lady, bring some home for daddy.”

BRING SOME HOME FOR DADDY.

That gave me the strength to wrench myself out of his vice-like hold and take off down the sidewalk, past all these people staring at me like I was the crazy one for going around hugging vagabonds, and I was acutely aware of him crossing the street while singing some song about FEELING JOLLY.

Oh my fucking god, why.

Why me.

Why why why.

On my race back to work, I started thinking of all the ways this situation could have gone awry. He could have turned hostile and stabbed me or worse – he could have stolen my G-Dragon pin!

I got back to work and my hands were shaking like milk (shout out to you if you know it). My first mistake was telling Glenn what happened. He thought this was the greatest story ever told. He loved it. Every last second of it. Meanwhile, I still hadn’t regained the color to my face and was still stumbling around with the pallor of a girl who just had her soul hugged out of her.

“That guy’s going to be have good dreams tonight,” Glenn chuckled and I felt sick all over again.

My second mistake was not immediately going home and taking a shower. Instead, I spent the rest of my workday, sitting inside the sweater that had just been molested by the sweat-stippled chest wig of a sidewalk stranger.

My third mistake was also my first mistake which was TELLING GLENN, who derived great joy in asking, “Did you tell them about your new friend?” every time someone came over to my desk. The really unfortunate part was that one of those people was Wendy and if there is anyone who loves basking in a swimming pool of Erin-related schadenfreude, it’s freaking WENDY.

“Oh my god, I would have pissed myself if I had been there!” she wheezed, and then I reached into my drawer to get out more of my international candy to use as Wendy-deterrent, while Glenn happily said, “Bring some home for daddy!”

****

When I showed Henry the picture of my hugger, he said, “It looks like it could the brother of the bagger from Kuhn’s, but it’s not the same guy. Good job, Erin.”

All that I endured to get that fucking picture, and it wasn’t even the same guy.

Fuck everyone.

(Except for that lady who got hit by the car.)

YOU GUYS. Yesterday, G-Dragon announced that he’s coming to NORTH AMERICA on his world tour this summer and I almost made Henry wreck the car.

“How old are you!?” he hissed when I couldn’t stop muttering, “G-Dragon, oh my god” over and over, ruining Chooch’s birthday.

I sent Amber2 an urgent CAPSLOCK text and she was all, “Wow, your vice is coming to America.” I knew she meant to say bias.

This morning, I just about slammed my phone into Glenn’s face to show him the announcement and he was like, “Wow. That pretty little girl is coming here.”

Because that’s what he calls GD. :(

Then Wendy came over and Amber2 asked, “Did you get a text too?” and Wendy just rolled her eyes and said yes.

“Mine ended with ‘I’M DYING’,” Amber told Wendy.

“Mine had exploding heart eyes or something,” Wendy sighed.

Then I got REALLY EMOTIONAL AT WORK which almost NEVER happens and my eyes started to water (allergies) and my face was SO FLUSHED (heatstroke?) OK fine – because OBSESSION.

The small audience around my desk was like, “Wow.”

“And we were just watching that video of him yesterday!” I cried over my shoulder to Glenn, and explained to Wendy that it was a video from a few years back, when GD was doing a fan greet where people got in a line to shake his hand.

“I didn’t see him actually shake anyone’s hands,” Glenn mumbled. “He just barely touched them.”

“Yeah, well…that’s because you didn’t watch the entire sixteen minutes, Glenn,” I spat and Wendy took that as her cue to peace out from the ridiculous dialogue.

When Todd got to work, I screamed, “TODD OMG!” and Glenn was like, “LET HIM SIT DOWN FIRST, FOR GOD’S SAKE.”

It was the talk of the town. Well, office quadrant. Well, half of the office quadrant.

Anyway, tickets haven’t gone on sale yet and I am so nervous. His Seoul concert sold out in 8 minutes. Ugh! We’re (we’re, lol) hoping to go to the Toronto show because it’s on MY BIRTHDAY. Please pray for me.

I was looking at the different VIP packages (of course there aren’t any prices available yet) and now I feel like I need the gold package but Henry said it’s probably $2000. I HAVE THINGS THAT I CAN SELL. I WILL SELL MY FUCKING RIOT FEST TICKETS WATCH ME.

(OK I don’t want to have to do that but I will because not going to Riot Fest will save us a lot of $$$ GOD WHY ISN’T HENRY A DOCTOR OR AN OIL TYCOON OR A FRENCH PORN DIRECTOR*.)

*(Mostly because that would just be cool.)

“I don’t see that hi-touch thing on here, though,” Todd said when I made him also look at the VIP packages because that’s what I do – I suck people in and make them hold my hand while I obsess over things.

“Todd, that’s for KCON,” I said exasperatedly.

“Oh yeah! That’s KCON,” he said in an “I’m so dumb” tone.

Please try to keep up with my ever-changing flights of fancy.

This is going to be my last, if not only, chance to see him before he enlists in the military and IT IS ALL I COULD EVER WANT. (Aside from all the other things I want, but this is my #1 want currently!) I will be happy if I get the very top of the balcony seat, because at least I will be in the same room as the most perfect person in the whole entire world, Korea’s National Treasure, MY BIAS.

I will end this with a video of the time GD took the fall for a girl who killed her abusive boyfriend with a pineapple. <3

Indulge me for a minute or eleven, won’t you. It’s a mother’s right to feel brooding, nostalgic, and downright panicked over the passage of time on their child’s birthday. AFTER ALL, it is all about us. 

So please don’t mind the forthcoming deluge of photos, also known as CHOOCH THRU THE YEARS. 

Happy 11th birthday to my favorite person in the whole world (fine–tied with G-Dragon)! Chooch makes life so exciting and gives me frequent stomach aches from all the laughing fits he causes. He’s scary-smart yet has just enough blond moments to keep him grounded. 

He is my best model and goes along with (most) of my dumb photo shoot ideas. He’s my favorite amusement park partner, my sometimes-concert buddy, and also my biggest frenemy. (We are way too much alike.) 

He can hold his own with a roomful of adults, and his wit is enviable. Get this kid a band to front or a show to host. 

I never thought I could ever be a mom, but I am so glad I met Henry and changed my mind. Chooch is my best creation ever and I love him so much! ❤💖🐱

My brother Ryan asked Chooch to pick somewhere he’d like to go for a birthday dinner, and I was bracing myself for the inevitable Burger King (he likes their veggie burgers) or Denny’s, but he shocked me with his off-the-cuff response of “Tillie’s.” I thought he hated that place! When he was little, he used to whine loudly that it stunk in there and we’d be like, “THAT’S THE BEAUTIFUL STENCH OF HOMEMADE SPAGHETTI SAUCE, MORON.” But I guess his palate is finally starting to mature past the age of cereal and (faux) chicken nuggets.

Before we left, I made him pose for some pre-11 birthday photos, because the glory days of 10 are waning quickly and I NEVER WANT TO FORGET HIS PRECIOUS DECADE-OLD CHEEKS.

These birthdays slaughter me, you guys. Being a mom hurts. WHERE DID MY BABY GO.

(Be prepared for a landslide of gratuitous throwbacks tomorrow on his actual birthday. Sorry in advance.)

*finger hearts*

I let him wear my G-Dragon pin because I guess I love him.

We picked up Judy on the way, and she proceeded to jut a finger at every vacant lot we drove past en route to McKeesport, informing us of whatever dance halls, bars, and diners used to be there, and how her ex-husband used to sing at some lounge that had since burnt down, which caused Henry to have lots of questions.

Not of the fire, but of the singing, I guess.

“There used to be a place I went to on the river down there,” Judy mused, staring out the passenger window as we crossed over a small bridge into McKeesport.

“The Palisades,” Henry said, causing Judy to laugh uproariously for some unknown reason and shout, “No! It was down on the river!”

“Yeah, the Palisades!” Henry argued, and Judy was nearly crying at this point, she was laughing so hard, and we had no idea why. DID SOMETHING HAPPEN TO JUDY AT THE PALISADES?!

“I forget how to do it,” said my gifted child as he handed his beaten bread across the table for Henry to finish buttering.

Dinner was so great, as usual.

“I haven’t been here in about 30 years,” my mom said at one point, inspiring me to say that I had never heard of it until my friend Heather took me there for my 19th birthday.

“I’m surprised Pappap never came here,” I said.

“No, he did,” my mom said, telling me the name of the friend he used to frequent the place with.

“Wow, your Pappap actually didn’t take you somewhere,” Henry chided. Fuck off, Henry.

Meanwhile, Chooch regaled the table with his tragic toothpick story, which made Ryan remember the time he drove one of his 80-wheeled remote control cars into my hair when I was laying on the floor (probably daydreaming of rollerskating on clouds with the Care Bears).

I don’t know how Chooch managed to eat any of his spaghetti in between gulping for air during his non-stop monologue. That kid could have a future in MCing variety shows in Korea. HE ALWAYS HAS SHIT TO SAY. ALWAYS.

Unless there is a pretty girl nearby.

I tried to get Henry to stop my brother from picking up the tab.

“Ryan’s our dongsaeng, and in Korea, dongsaengs would never be expected to pay for a meal!” I explained.

“Well, this isn’t Korea,” Henry sighed, while my mom rolled her eyes and Ryan shrugged it off as Erin being Erin.

Later on, we got some obligatory ice cream at Handel’s and managed to make it through an entire evening without arguing!

Well, I guess we’re due for another bullet-point blog post. I’ve thrown in some cat pictures too because I know how to keep my reader(s) happy….?

• I’m not really into podcasts simply because my attention span is no bueno. I know a lot of people who can listen to them at work but I can’t even listen to music at work because I’m already just so-so at my job and I’m one of those people who can barely walk and chew gum at the same time, so….Anyway my point is that in order to listen to a podcast, I have to be not doing anything else. But I really wanted to listen to S-Town because I was a fan of Serial. I had to actually sit still for approx. 7 hours over the last week in order to take this all in, but it was worth it. I know a lot of people were disappointed with the way in panned out, but I thought it was captivating and although it left me absolutely panicked about the passing of time, I thought it was an incredibly engaging narrative and would recommend it. But if you hate it, I didn’t make it, so…

• Chooch is too cool for selfies with mommy now I guess. We had a fight Saturday morning because he said I don’t have any friends and when I defensively whined that I have a lot of friends (a lie), he smugly retorted, “Yeah but now most of them are mine.” UGH it’s true though.  It’s his goddamn Charles Manson charisma.

• When Chooch tried to make galaxy cupcakes and then realized the actual icing part was going to take effort so he said fuck it.

• Our porch is so great for relaxing, and it has also provided me with a new opportunity to try my hand at parenting succulents again. For some reason, the cats don’t seem to bother my plants on the back porch (KNOCK ON WOOD) so I’ve been slowly trying to built my plant fam back up. We’ll see how long it lasts.

• I brought in pineapple and lotus root for my work snack last week and it caused a commotion.  Not really, but todd came over to ask me a question and then said, “OK, what is that?” So I told him (he mumbled “of course it is”) and then Lauren came over because she wanted to see and then we talked about lotus root for maybe fifteen minutes. That was fun.

• Speaking of lotus root, we got another great haul at the Asian market today. Above, please notice the photo of Henry plucking mysterious roots from a bin. “I don’t know what these are but I always see people buying them.” WE ARE FOLLOWERS. Anyway, the super jovial woman who checked us out asked if we knew what they we were and we sheepishly shook our heads. “Baby taro! Steam them, so good!” So guess what Henry’s doing tonight?! Also, I love taro so what a serendipitous Asian grocery experience. I also got some more savory snacks for work and I was able to read a bunch of Korean noodle packages so I’m FLYING HIGH ON THIS APRIL SUNDAY.
• The Riot Fest lineup was announced last week. I’ve had my ticket since December so I wasn’t caught up in the flurry to buy tickets but I have to say, I feel kind of underwhelmed about it this year. The main bands are legit, but I’m usually so stoked for the lower-tiered bands as well and there just aren’t that many stoking my fire. BUT – Kara is going with us this time so THAT is what I’m most excited about!
• I must really be caught on the Hallyu Wave because while everyone else is fanning themselves over the Riot Fest lineup, I’m over here watching vlogs of past KCONs, desperate to snag tickets when they go on sale next month. This world is so different from what I’m used to. I WANT TO SCORE A HI-TOUCH OPPORTUNITY FOR TWICE AND/OR CNBLUE, ahhhhhhhhh.  TT.TT

• The only thing keeping me from crying 24:7 over the Orange Embarrasment is all the clever memes and signs I see everyday. This Pink Floyd one is the best. LOOK AT THE TINY HANDS. Henry doesn’t like this though because he thinks it’s insulting to Pink Floyd.
• Chooch just stumbled across some of my old email addresses and is flipping out. “PoopAndPee?! Really?! You are literally so immature!” These were just my Comcast email addresses – if he ever sees the 50+ gmail addresses I’ve enmassed he’s going to put himself up for adoption. Or maybe just be full of pride.

• I’ve been trying not to be all HI GUYS WELCOME TO MY WEIGHTLOSS JOURNEY but I today I put on this shirt that I bought when Janna and I went to see the Corpse Flower bloom at Phipps in 2013 and I accidentally bought a youth medium commemorative shirt. I was so sad when I got home and realized my mistake so I punched it into the back of my dresser and moved on with life. Today I tried it on and it fit! THANK YOU KPOPX, K-KARDIO, and MY OFF-THE-CUFF KOREAN FOOD DIET. This is the greatest I’ve felt since I was probably 20, i.e. before I started dating Henry and he turned me into a fat lard to keep me from leaving him. J/k. It was my fault (see: depression, low self worth, poor relationship with food). I’m a huge advocate for dancing to Kpop for weight loss. Come talk to me about it!

• Ugh, yesterday Henry and I were strolling around Brookline when I picked up a rushed can of beer off the street, not only because it was Earth Day, but because FUCK LITTER every day*. Anyway, I forgot that the nearest garbage can was two blocks away so I got stuck clutching this gross can with the tips of two fingers, trying to hide it behind my back so it didn’t like I was a typical Yinzer, day-drinking on the sidewalks of Brookline. Some of it dripped on my foot and I wanted to cry, but I did this for YOU, Mother Earth.
  • Also, let it be known that before I picked it up, Henry kicked it and kept walking.
  • *When I was 13, we had a French foreign exchange student staying with us. His name was Laurent and he was 15 at the time. One day over the summer, we were going to the zoo, and he put down the passenger window in order to throw out his McDonald’s straw wrapper. From the backseat, I grabbed him by the back of the shirt and said, “I don’t know what you guys do in FRANCE, but we don’t litter in AMERICA.” (What a lie” our country is jam-packed with garbage, and it comes in people-form too.) But yeah, don’t fuck with the Overseer of Clean Streets.

• The other day at work, I was lamenting about how I’ve never seen a ghost. “Don’t you think it’s weird that I’ve never been haunted?” I asked out loud, to everyone and no one in particular. “That’s because you’re on the haunting end,” Glenn muttered, and I will accept that as a compliment, thanks Glenn.
• Lately, I have been trying to use Hangul hashtags so that I can make more friends on Instagram from Korea, because I have found that trying to translate Instagram captions has been a helpful supplement to my Talk to Me in Korean lessons, which are hard. But! Knowing how to read Hangul is half the battle and I get so excited when we’re watching things on Drama Fever and I recognize words. I mean, I’m not that good at English so even if I can get to the point where I can say, “I know Korean but I’m not good,” I’ll be, well, good.
• Chooch will be 11 on Tuesday and I’m so sad. He’s more than halfway to out of the house, and lately he’s been showing an interest in CMU so I’m already panicking about that, like please get yourself a scholarship, boy.

I’ll end with a picture of Drew in a basket. Later this week, please look forward to a post about Chooch’s birthday dinner and more Lunchbreak Tales. Possibly an office candy review, as well. I know. How will you sleep tonight.

I had my eye on a beautiful G-Dragon enamel pin on Etsy for the last several months. If there is one thing about me that usually surprises people, it’s that I am a SUPER GUILTY shopper. I can’t tell you how many times I add things to the cart then X out of the page because I’ve either determined I don’t really need it, or I don’t feel like reaching for my credit card, or I’ve just flat out already lost interest, or I found something for Chooch instead. #SELFLESS (lol not really.)

I know – this doesn’t fit into my spoiled brat personality profile, right?! 

But something made me check on that pin the other day and I said “YOU KNOW WHAT? 에라 모르겠다 I’m treating myself.” And guess what?! I BOUGHT THE VERY LAST ONE because the Etsy shop is retiring their Kpop line, so I went back and snatched up TOP for Chooch as well. 

I just love it so much!! And then I realized I was wearing my GD pin with my DGD (Dance Gavin Dance) pin and my head exploded. 

I wore GD to work yesterday and while Lauren thought it was adorable, Glenn and Todd were like, “Good lord.” And then Nate saw it in passing and said the way the light was hitting it, it looked like George  Washington and he just figured that “G-Dragon” was what I was calling George Washington these days. 

I mean, he had a valid assumption. You never know with me. 

“I scored the last one!” I cried, breathless with joy. 

“Are you sure it’s not the ONLY one?” Glenn deadpanned. Such a hater. 

Anyway, I’m telling you all of this because my pin arrived just in time for this new IU jam featuring G-Dragon! I LOVE IT. I would love it more if his beautiful perfect angel face was in the video too BUT I’LL LIVE, I GUESS. (That’s what Henry told me anyway.)

Broken record here but Easter is my second favorite holiday after Halloween. It didn’t used to be, and it’s not like I have especially fond childhood memories of Easters past. They weren’t bad, don’t get me wrong! But there were two Easters where I can remember being very ill. Once was in 11th grade – I vomited up a Caesar salad and chocolate milkshake from Denny’s and then proceeded to be down for the count for most of spring break.

I EVEN REMEMBER WHAT I WAS WEARING THAT NIGHT AT DENNYS. Probably because my whole life back then was on video thanks to my camcorder being my trusty sidekick.

(You guys think I oversaturate social media now? Imagine if it was around back then!)

I guess it’s been ever since I became a mom that Easter has been something I look forward to, and of course I’m talking about the Easter bunny and Easter baskets and chocolate and basket grass and absolutely nothing religious at all. (Although it was fun a few years back when we had that pizza party for Jesus Christ on Easter!) Also, Easter is like the true gateway to spring in my opinion.

Easter almost started off terribly because THE EASTER BUNNY DIDN’T COME TO OUR HOUSE and by the Easter bunny I of course mean the Easter dummy – Henry. Chooch and I threw low-grade fits until Henry was like, “OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” and took Chooch to Wal-Mart to pick out some small Easter presents and they got me some plants too so CRISIS AVERTED.

Our prizes didn’t come in a basket with candy but we didn’t care because THINGS AND STUFF AND PRESENTS AND GIMME. 

We’re not spoiled or anything. 

Then we put together a small basket for Patty and visited her at the nursing home, where she was sitting outside on the patio with her dad and two other residents, one of whom (Barb) had a fork in her shoe which was the most hilarious thing I saw all day. Apparently, she didn’t even know it was there until Patty pointed to it and asked her is she was planning on shanking someone. It just fell and landed right in the side of her shoe. HOW IS THIS SO FUNNY!?

Anyway, we enjoyed the beautiful sunshine while bullshitting, and Chooch played with the saran wrap that I had half-assedly laid atop his failed galaxy cupcakes that he brought for Patty.

“Look, I’m Dexter,” he murmured, slapping it over his face. This made Barb scream, “OH HONEY NO! OMG NO!” which was wildly funny to me.

Chooch, giving me and old ladies heart attacks since 2006.

Then Chooch got to swipe a post-Mass donut while the pastor’s wife said he was handsome which totally inflated his big head further, and then Patty made good on her promise to play Battleship with him, during which Henry nodded off because when doesn’t Henry nod off.

That’s Barb in the background, having a biblical debate with that dude. They were watching The Greatest Story Ever Told, or The Ten Commandments….or who knows — I couldn’t see that far.

It was nice seeing Patty for a bit that afternoon and while it was tempting to leave Henry there to be treated for narcolepsy, I woke him up when it was time to go.

In the end, it was the right choice, or else I wouldn’t have this divine bowl of japchae for dinner, complete with an Easter egg.

Turns out that Scoops was open, so we ended the night with a walk to the boulevard for some ice cream. Just kidding, we actually ended the night with one of my bi-annual, volatile rants about cops. But then I did some KpopX and we all had a good laugh about my scary temper.

WOO, EASTER!

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I almost let Easter slide by without any fanfare, but then a week prior we were at Target and Chooch was like, “We’re dyeing eggs next week, FYI. Tell Blake.”

Yessir.

I also told Kara, whom I haven’t seen since THE PIE PARTY.

IN OCTOBER.

I think this may have been the longest we ever went without hanging out. I blame political and seasonal depression.

Blake and Haley got to our house just in time for Chooch and me to start haranguing Blake to do things with us: Chooch wanted to bake galaxy cupcakes that he found in a cookbook we got him for Xmas and then promptly refused to help him with, and I wanted Blake to be the Easter bunny stand-in for our annual pictures because Henry was being a dumb dick and wouldn’t do it.

And then we did a quick Easter bunny sidewalk wave-and-dance side bar. I think Blake wasn’t going to do it at first but then he saw that cars were beeping and slowing down so the people inside could wave and cheer Chooch on, and he wanted in on that action.

Look for them at the next Anthrocon.

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I invited the neighbor kid Markie over too because he was sitting on his front porch, watching our antics and looking forlorn. I regretted the decision almost immediately because woo-boy does that kid love to get into all my stuff!

“Who invited Markie?” Henry sighed.

“I know right?” I said.

J/K. That kid is pretty harmless. And he’s super fun to tease. Takes it like a pro!

Kara and I dyed nary an egg, but we did partake in some soju action.

And then promptly blew freakshow-quality fire from our mouths.

In my mind, dyeing eggs always seems like such a grand idea, but then it’s over faster than it took Henry to set up all the dye. And then I remember how frustrating it is when the eggs don’t come out sparkly and gilded like they appear on the front of the Paas box.

Does anyone remember the Peter Paas Easter cartoon from the 80s? We had it on VHS, the kind that came in the giant, padded vinyl case.

Just seeing that cover has me crucified with nostalgia! I can totally hear that sheep’s voice in my head!

Anyway, it was fun just hanging on the backporch which obviously I’m obsessed with if you can’t tell, watching the kids complain because the wax crayon didn’t work (WHEN DOES IT?! I can’t tell you how many failed weeners eggs I’ve dyed).  And then there was an impromptu Easter egg hunt because we bought a big bag of those plastic fucks at Goodwill for photoshoot purposes only, so Blake took a basketful and hid them all around the yard and it was way more entertaining than I anticipated. Harland got the golden egg and I could tell Chooch was trying to quickly construct a dam for his tears because god forbid he doesn’t win something.

WHERE DOES HE GET THIS LITERALLY NO ONE IN THIS HOUSE IS COMPETITIVE.)

Egg dyeing interlude.

All of the kids were running amok with animal masks at one point and I wanted to do a group photo but getting kids to agree to photos is hard and I didn’t have any cash on me to pay them like I have to do with my own kid.

His rates keep going up.

Somehow the night bled into a surprise story time…

Hey, speaking of bled…you know what else bled that night?

Oh, just Chooch.

He somehow managed to step on one of those thick wooden toothpicks later that night when he was going to get a bottle of water in the kitchen. Kara and I thought he bumped his leg off the kitchen table and was embellishing because if there is one thing that Chooch inherited from me that I’m very proud to admit, it’s my natural embellishment skills.

But no, as it turned out, he had half of this toothpick speared into his foot and it was NOT PRETTY. As soon as I saw what was going on, that he had essentially been staked, I lost my shit. My legs did that jelly thing and I was all dry-heaving while moaning, “Oh my GOD. OH my god. Oh MY god. OHMYGOD.” Finally Henry pushed me out of the way and calmly sat Chooch down on the couch, who at this point was screaming like he lost his whole entire foot in an episode of the Walking Dead. Henry just kept saying, “I’M TRYING TO GET IT OUT. STOP MOVING! NO, DON’T LOOK AT—–”

Too late.

Chooch looked.

And then the screaming got even more theatrical and I was acutely aware that we have neighbors but luckily they weren’t home so thank god.

I kept going back and forth between trying to comfort Chooch, making things worse, and then going back on the porch where Kara’s kids were like THE FUCK.

“I was just telling them about the time at the spray park,” Kara said, another time that Chooch had what you would think was a near-fatal injury and I almost puked in public but my temporary paralysis wouldn’t allow it.

I’m the worst in any types of traumatic situations. Thank god Henry and Kara were there or else Chooch and I would have both probably passed out, Chooch bleeding out and me choking on my vomit.

Henry managed to pull out the toothpick cleanly and the puncture wound only bubbled a bit with blood and then was fine – I was waiting for some gross blood volcano to erupt.

“This was probably 75% drama,” Henry mumbled.

Anyway, it was so scary at the time, but we were making jokes pretty soon after.

“Well, if KARA didn’t ask me to get her a water….” Chooch said defensively. Yep, that’s what I was waiting for. Kara’s going to be hearing about this one for years!

But really, if he wants to play that game, he can only blame himself because he’s the one who HAD TO BAKE CUPCAKES that day, which is why the toothpicks were out in the first place. I asked Chooch if he wants to guest blog about the horrible event, but he said he doesn’t want to relive it.

My Left Foot sequels aside, it was a really fun night. Nothing is better than a houseful of cool people and holiday pandemonium.

And now I will leave you with an oldie but goodie Kpop jam:

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There’s something* about Mondays that makes me want to abstain from all the words and just share a music video that we can all dance to together in spirit. 

*(Oh yeah. Work.)

Let’s pretend like we’re all in a beautiful meadow, dancing with the adorable flower boys from 7 o’clock. OK? OK! 아싸!

Blake was over last night and I did that thing I do where I wait until the last minute and then blurt out, “CAN YOUDO ME A FAVOR HERE PUT THIS ON” and then before Blake knew it, he was reprising his leporine* role.

*(That was today’s Dictionary.com word of the day, have some smarts.)

Reflection.

My original plan backfired, because Henry failed to perfectly execute my vision so I threw a fit and pouted for twenty  minutes (I’m getting better), so I guess I’ll save that for that next year.

Anyway, enjoy whatever it is you do on Easter, and if you’re like us and do nothing, then bask in the glory that is no religious obligation! Stupid Henry, I mean, the real Easter bunny didn’t come back to our house so there were NO BASKETS for chooch and me and Henry, I mean, the Easter Bunny, said it’s because we’re spoiled brats and don’t deserve anything and now we know how he feels because we never get him anything for holidays?!

Henry, and I mean, the Easter Bunny, strikes back. What the fuck. 

(NOT EVEN ANY JELLYBEANS?!)

I have vivid memories of being super young in the early 80s, watching Twice Upon a Time on HBO in our old house in South Park. This movie was everything to me. I used to make my mom rent it constantly from one of the tiny, pre-Blockbuster video rental stores (which was next to an arcade that I just learned recently that my Pappap owned, which explains why there were always arcade games and pinball machines in our houses when I was growing up.)

For some reason though, even though it was associated with Lucasfilm, it was really hard to find on video. I was on a kick as a teenager, desperately trying to find it, back when you had to get out the Yellow Pages and call places like Blockbuster and Suncoast. I eventually did find it, back in 1996 or 1997, and had it shipped to my house. (This was back before we used the Internet for every damn thing, you guys, so the fact that I was able to find it at all was a huge victory, and if we’re being honest, it was probably my Aunt Sharon who found it for me because she was relentless.)

And then there was this terrible night, it was actually the night before Thanksgiving in 1997, when my then-boyfriend Paycho Mike and I had a huge fight, one that involved him chasing me into my parentless house, and thankfully I made it into my bedroom with enough time to slam and lock my door behind me. 

He eventually left, but not before going into the family room, taking my prized copy of Twice Upon a Time, and running it over with his car. 

Janna was there. You can ask her! She was scared too!

So, that tells you how much this movie meant to me, that it was the first thing he went for in his mission to abuse me some more. 

I was able to find another copy years later, but it’s on VHS, and I don’t think it would play now even if I still had a VCR. 

It came up in conversation last night and I went on YouTube to find a trailer so I could show Chooch, who wasn’t impressed at all because it didn’t involve some douchebag YouTuber playing video games and screaming, so he went to bed while I stayed up crying to myself when I found the opening credits, which include Bruce Hornsby’s Heartbreak Town. 

MEMORIES. 

So I decided that I need to watch this again, urgently. The last time I googled it, all I could find was used VHS copies. This time though, I found it on DVD – at Target! I had no idea this was ever released on DVD! IT FEELS LIKE I WAS VISITED BY THE EASTER BUNNY A DAY EARLY. 

That’s all. Just wanted to get that off my chest. Fuck psycho boyfriends, long live Target.