Sometimes I like to make sure I have my weekends accounted for in case I’m brought in as a murder suspect sometime down the road and they’re like WHERE WERE YOU ON SUNDAY JANUARY 8th and I can scream back AT EITHER ONE OF TWO ASIAN MARKETS, AHHHH!!

So even though the weekend wasn’t exactly chockful of raves and slaughter, here’s a run-down of my Sat&Sun minutiae, just like the LiveJournal days of “Hey guys, I woke up and had breakfast. Heh. My cat just walked into the room. Lol. Like, everything is so meh. Do you like my new Squee icon?”

Don’t pretend like you don’t remember those days!

ANYWAY. What did I do on Saturday. I woke up at some point obviously and demanded that Henry make me ramyeon for breakfast because did I tell you I’m on a Kpop diet? I LOST THREE POUNDS LAST WEEK. Sure, I’m eating a fuck-ton of noodles but all the kpopx (and also Figurerobics – a new Korean workout I’ve added to my repertoire in addition to straight up freestyling to Kpop videos because this is real life now) is burning through it and I have so much more energy now! DONT TRY TO NUTRITION ME.

MMM BREAKFAST RAMYEON.

Um, then I Kpopped a lot. I told Chooch that we’re going to have a kpop party, and somewhere from the hollows of upstairs, Henry called out, “No we’re not.”

(Sometimes he accidentally busts out with Red Velvet and EXID songs.)

And then Robbie and Nikki came over and we went to a late lunch at Zenith (without Chooch, so in case he’s the one who’s in trouble – he was at the game place in Brookline with his friend Dang and I have no idea what he was doing — I’m not taking the fall for him!). It was Robbie and Nikki’s first time at Zenith and I was so excited for Nikki to see the bathrooms. Zenith has so much going for it but that owl bathroom is definitely something you’d write home about.

Anyway, Henry thinks he’s like super cool now because this was like his fourth time at Zenith, and he was totally trying to yuk it up and flex his faux-vegan muscles to impress Robbie, who was just like, “Dad, why are you being weird?” I thing Henry name-dropped “seitan” at least 18 times while we were there.

Like, get a life, gramps.

Nikki and I both got the tofishy sandwich and as usual, I am still daydreaming about it two days later. It’s the best, just the absolute best sandwich I have ever had at a vegetarian restaurant and the vegan tartar sauce is like straight from God’s lovegutter.

Dumbass Henry planned this perfectly so that we would have to rush out in order to pick up Chooch, leaving me NO TIME to look around and buy things. I was heartbroken, and made sure to call him out for this on Instagram. Zenith commented and called him a jerk! YES! Henry just mumbled, “Thanks, Erin.” Whatever Henry. I liked Zenith first.

Later that evening, we went to Target and I tried to deter Henry from buying a shapeless, lame pair of Wranglers.

“Ok DAD!” I sneered as he sauntered off to the fitting room to try on the bland, stiff denim leg-sacks.

“Well, I am a dad,” Henry replied. “And a soon-to-be grandfather, so…”

TOUCHE MOTHERFUCKER.

Of course we left Target without the thing we went to Target for. Fucking Target.

Came home and did more Kpopx while Henry actually cleaned some of the attic for real this time! Ugh, he has so many old computers, computer parts, and milk crates of CD-ROMs just chillin’ up there, obstructing my dreams of a Neon Paradise. However, I did find the paper mache Henry head we made for our Christmas cards several years back, so voila, Trudy suddenly has a new head:

I put it on briefly and Drew was super freaked out. SORRY, DREW.

Sunday, we went to one of the Asian markets while Chooch was at piano lessons. I am so lucky to be with someone who supports my lifestyle* changes! Is he happy about it? Eh…he’s more tolerant of it than Chooch though. Chooch snapped yesterday and said, “I wish you never got into kpop again!!!” Lol.

*(I’m trying to learn Korean. So far I only know hello/goodbye and boyfriend, which is the same word for older brother? Anyway, I have been saying hello to everyone at work in Korean now and Glenn said that I just sound like I’m saying onion. TT)

As I’m typing this,  Henry is seriously ENGAGED by one of Jellybeannose’s kpop dance challenges, to the point where he just laughed and cried out, “She just kicked Ricky in the back of the leg!” LOL, he’s learning the names of the K-Con regulars. By the way, I told him he could turn this off, and that was a half hour ago!!

Anyway, we stocked up on Korean kitchen staples, like gochujang and gochugaru, and various fruits for my weekly fruit salad. I think that Henry is secretly into it because he genuinely loves to cook so now he’s being forced to, you know, cook outside the box, or whatever. Spoiler alert: he made tteokbokki for dinner last night and it was everything. Just everything. I AM NEVER HUNGRY ANYMORE.

But then after Chooch’s piano lesson, we had to go back to the other Asian market in order to get the gochugaru which we couldn’t find at the first one and were both too afraid to ask. This particular market also has a counter where you can order food so me and Chooch got three car wheel cakes (custard, taro and red bean) which were amaze. I also bought a bag of soy bean & pumpkin instant cereal to replace my Cream of Wheat, despite Henry’s wise warnings.

Tteokbokki, you’re a fucking heartthrob.

Chooch had plain ramyeon and yelled at me for being “weird.”

Yeah. I’m weird.

Um, and then I started to work on a new painting! I haven’t really been painting much lately, aside from several customs that I did for Christmas. Maybe 2017 will be more inspiring for me!

At some point on Sunday, I went for a walk around on Brookline which was a ninny move because it was approximately 10 degrees outside. When I was walking back to the house, Boots was outside on his porch, in fucking SHORTS, A T-SHIRTS, AND SOCKS. We made eye contact and he’s obviously afraid of me now so he started to turn around, but then I just started cracking up. Like, I couldn’t even help it.

So then he looked at me expectantly and I cried, “How are you standing out here in shorts!?”

He laughed nervously, clearly trying to figure out if this was a trap, and then he put a fist in the air and said, “I’m a true Steelers fan!” Like, OK buddy.

I went inside and said, “I just talked to Boots for the second time!”

“Isn’t that the third time?” Chooch asked. “Or are you not counting the time you looked at him and said ‘Ew’?” LOL I forgot about that. But my point is that my new lifestyle just has me in the best mood. I just want to be nice and say annyeong to everyone! Even the haters like Chooch and Glenn.

Maybe I’ll start to learn more of the language once I get a Korean pen pal.

And I’ll leave you with my current favorite Kpop song. I hope KpopX makes a workout for it soon!

P.S. I had one of the soy bean pumpkin packets today at work and legitimately almost threw up, much to the delight of Glenn and Todd. Later in the afternoon, I had a fleeting taste-memory of it and started dry-heaving a little as I walked down the hall to a meeting, which would have been more enjoyable had there been Kpop playing softly in the background. 

(The meeting, not my dry-heaving.)

(Ok my dry-heaving too.)

This weekend has been super chill & cat-filled. Enjoy some pictures of said cats. 

This was right after Chooch lifted the lid of a cooler filled with melted ice and Drew  dove right in with impeccable timing. That’s what you might call a RUDE AWAKENING but what do I know about diving into coolers of melted ice. 

Then Chooch left the house and Drew became SUPER CONCERNED. Somehow she knows that Chooch is her Person. He’s the only one who can hold her without her squirming and wriggling and taking strips of your skin with her. 

Ears. 

Monica replied to this picture on Twitter with a gif of Yoda and I couldn’t agree more! Except that Drew is way less wise. See above coole dive tale. 

Drew sits on that stool everyday like she owns it or something. 

Henry was supposed to be cleaning out all his garbage (read: possessions) from the attic. I had some pressing Kpop news to tell him probably so I ran upstairs but then didn’t have to go any further because I found him in Chooch’s room, playing Xbox with Penelope. 

Ugh. 

But he did eventually travel to the attic and ended up making a small dent in it. I hate when things aren’t immediately finished! But I’ll be patient and then someday by Neon Paradise will be complete. 

I know you’ve been chomping at the bit for an update on my lunatic neighbors, so here is a handy run-down of December happenings. I am literally That Nosy Housewife who stands with a glass to the wall in order to hear the conversations better.

• They have a tv now. A box tv with a bunch of VHS tapes stacked on top. I can see it clearly when I’m across the street getting out of the car and YES I’M PURPOSELY LOOKING.
• Henry said Larry stopped him on the sidewalk and very earnestly said, “Please don’t associate me with [Boots]. I’m trying to get rid of him, too.” Chooch’s Nemesis Larry….our ally?! I never would have thought….
• 12/14: Boots & Phyllis have a HUGE FIGHT at 1am which causes me to lose my shit and I start screaming too, and Henry mumbles from beneath his pillow for me to stop and not stoop to their level and I’m all “I’LL SHOW YOU STOOPING!!” as I proceed to stampede up and down the steps and then slam the front door so hard that one of my framed Warped Tour pictures falls off the wall. HEY, IT GETS THEIR ATTENTION and there’s not one more peep for the rest of the night. And I know this because I’m so fucking wired at this point that I just lay in bed and shake.
• 12/16: Friday night – another GET AWAY FROM ME fight. Phyllis is all, “I’m not leaving in the middle of the night!” And I’m all, “I wish you would, you dumb bitch!” God, SOMETIMES I THINK I’M ON BOOTS’ SIDE.
• 12/17: Saturday early evening. I’m sitting here trying to watch a vlog of my favorite American Kpop dancer (jellybeannose, le duh) in Korea for a 2013 Kpop convention, when suddenly: EXPLOSION NEXT DOOR. I grab my glass and run up to my room to get a better listen-hear.  “You make $300 a month, how are you even paying rent GEORGE? You’re GOOD FOR NOTHIN’. I’d be embarrassed if I was fucking you! Idiot! You’re a fucking IDIOT! You don’t HAVE any friends! They all talk behind your back!” I have literally never herd someone say “good for nothin'” in real life.  Then Boots left. Then he came back. Then SHE left, limping down the street with a blanket, like it was her bindle or something. Boots left a few minutes later and limped a different direction. He came back later but Phyllis never did thank god.
• 12/19: I was off work this day and suddenly, over top of my TV, I heard, “WOOO! WOOO!” Turns out, Boots was on the phone with someone, and he signed off with a slurred, “Ok I love you talk to you later” – who was he talking to?! Phyllis? His mom? His dealer? More importantly, how the fuck can I hear him ON THE PHONE OVER MY TV when he’s on an entirely different floor in his house?!
  • Later, I heard HOT NAYBOR CHRIS THE JUDAS OFFERING BOOTS ANOTHER TV?! They were outside in the driveway and I kept gasping, “Chris, no!” And Boots was all slurring around the cigarette holes in his throat, “YEAH YEAH I WANT THAT” and then Chris suggested that they go ask LARRY for his dolly and I’m thinking, “We’re trying to get this guy to leave and Chris is trying to make his house more of a home, ugh!”
  • Then after that, the Crazy lady who lives in the big white house up the street stopped on the sidewalk and was talking to Boots about the inside of the house, and then they had a weird argument over the driveway because she didn’t believe that it’s shared between the two house. I was walking home later from the bakery and saw her later pausing in front of our house, scoping out our driveway. SO MANY WEIRDOS IN BROOKLINE.
• MICHAEL: I began noticing a second derelict accompanying Boots on the porch and turns out his name is Michael and I know this because Boots got locked out for the 8973407290720850834265 time since moving in and started screaming MICHAEL MICHAEL MICHAEL I’M LOCKED OUT and then I heard Michael’s dopey clodhopper footsteps bumbling down the steps and over to the door, at which point Boots had to holler instructions on how to unlock the door so god only knows what sort of jerry-rigged security set-up he’s got going on over there.
• Without Phyllis, it’s pretty quiet for the rest of the week. Michael doesn’t do much. We did make eye contact once and it was scary though.
• 12/23: JUDY MADE CONTACT. She was here babysitting Chooch and said that Boots came a’calling during the day, asking if she found a phone in the mailbox because his friend was supposed to have had dropped off a phone to him but thought he might have put it in ours instead. WHAT THE HELL, IS IT A BURNER PHONE?! Judy started white-knighting him and I didn’t like that, not one bit. She said he was “very polite” and Chooch said, “He’s lucky YOU weren’t the one who opened the door” which made Henry laugh without mirth because everyone knows I don’t answer the door when strangers knock. Then Judy got all dreamy-eyed and said, “He looks familiar. Maybe I used to drink with him. Yeah, down at the Soithern Star.” Henry groaned, “Oh god please don’t know him.”
  • Later that night, PHYLLIS RETURNS but Boots isn’t home! I spend a good deal of time in my bedroom, plastered against the wall with my hearing-glass. Some other man is with her and I assume it was her ride there. It sounds like she is getting some of her shit together, and she’s spitting all kinds of hate-speech about Boots (or as she calls him, “George”). The guy with her says something about Boots leaving earlier with his brother, so I think Michael is his brother?!
    • Also, Phyllis keeps saying, “Come here, pretty girl!” and I’m wondering if this is some hostage Boots keeps chained up under the bed, but then I deduce it’s a pet of some sort.  A few days later, I see a white and gray cat sitting on the bedroom windowsill. That poor cat. :(
• 12/25: Christmas morning, a pick-up that looks like it drove off the set of Beverly Hillbillies drops off some real fucking vagabonds. One is a young …. woman and she’s very Hills Have Eyes. A few days later, I saw her outside in an awkward embrace with Michael. Anyway, later that night there are a ton of violent outbursts and then I realize that they’re having what I assume is some type of inbred Steelers party, I don’t know. At some point the next day, the pick-up truck limps its way back to Pioneer Ave and scoops up Hills Have Eyes.
• 12/31: THE CONFRONTATION. For as much as I sincerely hate Boots, I have to say he’s fairly harmless and quiet (well, he still gets carried away with the door-slamming here and there). But then, Phyllis comes back. So it’s New Years Eve, and again — we’re just hanging out, watching hockey (not Korean hockey, just NHL) when the volatile shouting happens. “YOU’RE A FUCKING CUNT!” Boots shouted, so then I screamed into the wall, “NO YOU’RE A FUCKING CUNT!!!” and Chooch ripped off his headphones and got an excited “Oooh Mommy’s about to put on a show!” look on his face. Meanwhile, Henry was groaning, “Erin, STOP!” and I just lost it, screaming my face off about how trashy these assholes are and how I was ready to fight them. I heard the door slam, so I ran to my front door and stood there with my arms crossed. Boots was walking up the sidewalk, and as he got in front of my house, he looked up at my porch and I held onto the eye contact as angrily as I could. He stopped and I swear he first called me a broad, and then mouthed off about me having a problem. So I stepped out onto the porch and said, “Yeah, I have a problem with you!” He incredulously repeated, “With me?!” And, here is where I wish I could rewind time and say something better, I yelled, “YEAH, YOU AND YOUR YAPPING!” So then he started WALKING DOWN MY SIDEWALK TOWARD ME and I’m thinking, “Oh fucking finally, we’re going to fight! I’m so glad  I had that glass of wine first!” But you guys, instead of being the fucking macho man he is when he’s verbally terrorizing Phyllis, he instead got SUPER POLITE and began kissing my ass. “Look, I got a big problem with this woman over there. She’s homeless and I took her in and now I just want her to leave, but she won’t. She’s causing me all kinds of problems!” I’m still being stern at this point, still have my arms crossed angrily, and it occurs to me that I’ve been subconsciously channeling my inner Aunt Sharon, who was NOTORIOUS for confronting people. But at the same time, I now feel myself getting pulled into his dramarama and I’m like, “Well, she’s certainly making you look bad*, so you should just make her leave if she doesn’t live there.” *(Like he needs help in that area.) Then he goes on to tell me about the people coming in and out, taking advantage of him and honestly I have no idea what it is he has to offer unless this really is a drug situation happening (there are two people who roll up frequently, go in his house for a minute, and then leave…like, come on). Also, I can’t believe how excruciatingly difficult it is to understand him. He literally talks like a grouping of dicks is going to cascade from him mouth at any second—what the hell does he have stuffed in there?! His voice, oh my god, you guys. Meanwhile, he was standing bow-legged and all slinky, flapping his arms and swaying back and forth, and I’m not even sure if he was actually drunk or high, or if this is just his standard stance. He is so beyond white trash. Then he went on to explain how he “remodeled” all of the properties on our block (false — he just worked for the contracting company! He made it sound like he did it all himself) and that he “pays his rent” and I’m like, “Well that’s great but you’re disruptive, and I’ve lived here a long ass time without having problems with any of my neighbors” (also false but he is legit the worst). We ended with him swearing to do better and then I just turned around and went inside while he was wishing me a happy new year. I DON’T WANT HIS GROSS WELL-WISHES!!
  • When I turned to come back inside, Chooch nearly fell out of the doorway. He was laughing so hard and Henry was just like “ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!?” and you know what, yeah motherfucker, I was happy. Man, it felt great to finally face-off with that dickhead, you know? And on my turf, too. I don’t ever want to knock on that door because god only knows what will open it. So I was happy that this happened outside with cars driving by.
  • “How could you even understand him!? He did so much gesturing!” Chooch cried, still doubled-over with laughter.
  • “I’m pretty sure he asked you where your dad is,” Henry said, frowning. OMG DOES HE THINK HENRY IS MY DAD?! It just gets better and better.
• There hasn’t been anything major to report since then. I haven’t heard Phyllis’s nerve-racking voice so I’m trying to just pretend that she found greener pastures and isn’t chopped up and stuffed in a suitcase somewhere.

As I type this, there’s some moderate commotion next door, but my hearing-glass has helped me determine that it’s not of the violent variety. It’s the weekend and I guess some of the friends that Boots doesn’t have according to Phyllis are visiting him from the halfway house, where they will later return and talk about him behind his back.

ALTHOUGH IF HE SLAMS THAT FUCKING DOOR ONE MORE TIME….

I wonder what Boots’ spy-log for me would look like?

• The broad is doing Korean aerobics again
• The broad is listening to Korean music again
• They’re all yelling at the cats
• The broad is yelling at the hockey game
• The broad is dragging another wheelchair into the house — WHO IN THERE IS PARALYZED?!
• The broad and the kid are beating up their dad again

But you know, the spelling would be worse than my usual abomination of the written word.

Going to the Einstürzende Neubauten show.

How Hulk loafs around in the privacy of his home is none of your concern.

Cat torture attire.

Lower half is ready for a night of gothic boot-stomping at the Bat Cave, top half is ready to drink craft beer while building a terrarium at PLANT NITE.

If John Waters had directed Mary Poppins.

Some things, in a list.

• You could turn pictures of my house into a goddamn I Spy book. Some days I think that’s awesome, but then other days I want to get industrial-sized garbage bags and go on a decluttering spree. (Don’t worry, it would only be Henry and Chooch’s shit though.)
• I had to type out”Connecticut” at work today and I just stared at it like HOW CAN THAT BE RIGHT. 
• Henry said he had a dream the other night that we got married. Notice he said DREAM and not NIGHTMARE. Making progress! We might actually be wed before Chooch!

• This was my favorite painting in my grandma’s clown room. My mom brought it over for me last week. Bitter-fucking-sweet. It’s still my dream to have my own clown room one day in honor of my grandparents. I have a ton in my collection already but I need an entire room for it and this house doesn’t have it.
• Too bad I ran out of people to send Greetings From Erin’s Lunch Break postcards to, because last week’s would have been a great one. I was walking back to work while on my lunch break when some young guy walked past me and, in a very concerned voice, called out, “You dropped your turtles!” I spun around and cried, “What OMG no—-wait….” and then he pointed at me said, “Gotchu!” and I responded with a “ha, you got me!” face and it was a total Mentos moment. This was a few minutes after I got busted at the Point talking to my shoe.
  • What? It had come untied for the fourth time on my walk (Henry thinks this is because I “tie them wrong” but he can go fuck himself, really) and, while I was crouched down retying it, I cried, “Untied again? Man, fuck you, shoe” just as some man walked by and chuckled. Oh, like he doesn’t talk to his shoes too.

• I decided that my life is sorely missing the days of exotic fruit salads, so I made Henry go to the Asian market with me on our day off on Monday. (“Just how I wanted to spend my day off” he mumbled, and I was like, “OH THEN LET’S STAY HOME AND YOU CAN START CLEANING YOUR SHIT OUT OF THE ATTIC, ASSHOLE” — suddenly, he had the car keys in his hand and was ushering us out of the house.) We went to Lotus instead of Oriental Market which is where we typically go but I couldn’t bear the thought of McKnight Rd (it just makes me angry) and the selection was semi-OK. I got various Asian pears and dragonfruit, but the vegetables was where it was at, you guys. We got purple and regular yams, pumpkin, some squash thing, and TARO – I fucking love taro. There used to be a froyo place nearby that we went to a lot and sometimes they would have TARO froyo, and fresh JACKFRUIT AND LONGAN toppings. Yeah boi. Anyway, right after this, I decided that I should just adopt a full Korean diet to go along with my kpop workouts so now I’ve been sending Henry all kinds of vegetarian Korean recipes, none of which he’s made me yet. Instead, he just made various vegetables (like woodear mushrooms, which taste much better when they’re not a dessert!), udon, and tofu and was like, “I DON’T KNOW IF THIS IS KOREAN, BUT YOU’RE GOING TO EAT IT” and he’s right — I ate it. And it was wonderous. I love my new lifestyle!

• After watching the 18th video of American girls reacting to Kpop music videos, Henry mumbled that he hates when I get obsessed with things and I’m like dude, that’s my personality. When he first met me, I had literally just come back from seeing The Cure in Australia because OBSESSED. That should have been his signal to opt out!
  • Anyway, this isn’t an obsession. This is my new lifestyle. I decided that since the kpop obsession came back to me after I let it free, then it is TRULY MEANT TO BE. (I went through a heavy k-obsession in my early 20s until Comcast decided that the international channels were too premium to be loafing in the basic tier.)
    • Also, they play Carly Rae Jepsen in the background of a lot of the Korean videos I watch on YouTube. <3

• I woke henry up to ask him what he’s making me to take to work for dinner since I’m late shift and he said, “There are frozen meals in the freezer.” Um, they’re not K-frozen meals? “Not everything is going to be Korean!” he yelled, to which I replied, “Well yeah actually it is because this is my life now.” And that dickhead had the audacity to tell me I better learn how to cook then. THAT SOUNDS LIKE A THREAT. 

• Can someone please teach my kid how to eat? I deemed 2017 the year of expanding Chooch’s dietary horizons. He is so fucking picky and it makes it even harder now that he is a vegetarian. I mean, we can only feed him so many faux-chicken nuggets. (Lol @ “we.”) He’ll eat tofu, but he is so stubborn with everything else. We took him to Salem’s Market after the Asian market and tried to get him to eat falafel and he said he liked it but basically didn’t want to taste it again. And also, he hated the lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and “weird sauce.” So then he was like, “Maybe I would like it better if it wasn’t wrapped up” and so he dumped it all out and then proceeded to just eat the rest of his French fries and I AM SO DISAPPOINTED IN HIM. He’s supposed to be my partner in vegetarian…crime? If Henry will ever get off his ass and make me some bibambap, maybe he’ll like that.
  • LOL, yeah right.
• Chooch was watching videos on the TV in his room the other night and couldn’t hear screaming for him to turn it down, so Henry was all, “I’ll take care of this” and opened the Roku app on his phone and hit “listen privately” which basically muted it I guess, so we heard a brief window of silence, and then Chooch mutter, “…the fuck.” Then he figured out how to turn the volume back on, so Henry did it again. Now Chooch was getting agitated. (He goes from 0 to 100 in a second, just like his beautiful, amazing mommy.) He started swearing and then the “DADDY!!!! COME HERE!!!!” started. Henry was like, “Nope.” So Chooch turned the volume back on and then Henry turned the entire TV off from his phone and now Chooch was ENRAGED and screaming for Henry to come and help him. So he got it turned back on and Henry went up to act concerned, while I started playing videos of this American girl teaching kpop choreography, which Chooch HATES. So then he started to CRY because he was so freaked out and I swear to god we did this to him before, did he forget?! So I just kept turning the kpop girl video back on, over and over, until Henry called downstairs for me to stop because Chooch was actually THAT UPSET. Apparently, he thought his TV broke or something — YEAH RIGHT, HE THOUGHT THE MAN IN THE ATTIC STRUCK AGAIN. I went upstairs about an hour later, and as I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth, Chooch started yelling at me from his room about how blah blah blah, he wasn’t scared, just pissed, etc etc, so I swapped out whatever dumb YouTube video he was watching for a scene from The Exorcist. SWEET DREAMS, BOO THANG.

• Speaking of Chooch and his dumb YouTube videos, I bought him some YouTuber’s “memoirs” for Xmas, against Henry’s better judgment, and that son of bitch wolfed down those words with his eyeballs in two days. I had the vague sense that this book was inappropriate, and Chooch started telling me parts of it, and I was like OK STOP LALALALA.
  • He was cracking up pretty hard while reading it so I said, “So, it’s kind of like reading my blog, right?” and he said, “Uh….well….it’s just that….his life is actually interesting.” WOW.
    • JUST WOW. TT
• I went for a walk around Brookline the other day and was shocked to see that a bar spelled “potato” correctly on their sidewalk menu. Proud of them!
• I figured something out over the weekend: Chooch’s wardrobe doesn’t have enough sequins. I’m doing a shitty job as his stylist. :/
• OK confession: for the entire month of December, I had on the radio station that plays all Xmas music, all the time, because I was trying to torture Boots and Phyllis since my bedroom radio is right up against our shared wall. Not sure if it worked, but it definitely tortured ME in the process. I’m so thankful it’s over, because if I had to hear Taylor Swift’s version of Santa Baby one more time…it is so fucking sterile and asexual! She should’ve changed the lyrics to be about an actual baby.

OK,  I’m out. I have to go find a YouTube tutorial on how to tell my kid to take a fucking shower in Korean. Annyeoung!

For the newcomers or FAIRWEATHERED BLOG READERS (lol, j/k – fairweathered is better than no-weathered), RIP Glenns is the brainchild of Amber2. It’s a mash-up of the Halloween-costumed Glenns I made for my Halloween desk theme in 2012, where I printed out pictures of Glenn’s employee ID and essentially defaced them and put them in prize capsules. Then people would come to my desk every day to get their daily Glenn and candy and it was so much fun! Prior to that, we had a wall in the department where we would hang pictures of dead celebrities, but then we had to take them down for whatever reason. So Amber2 had the brilliant idea to merge the two!  The more you know.

***

Ugh you guys. So many celebrities died in 2016 that I could barely keep up with the RIP Glenns. In fact, I didn’t even do all of the ones I had on my list (sorry, Janet Reno!) because contrary to popular belief, I actually have real work to do at work, too. If there’s a celebrity that died sometime in the first half of 2016 that you feel is sorely remiss from the Glenn collection, please let me know and I will make one JUST FOR YOU. Because that’s the new me, you guys. Accommodating.

I think only three people appreciated this one, but man — Garry Shandling brings back fond memories of my childhood and watching age-inappropriate television.

Meh. I don’t really have anything eulogy-ish to say about Chyna. SORRY CHYNA.

If you’re any kind of hockey fan, you probably shed a tear when you heard that Mr. Hockey himself had passed away. </3

I posted this one right after Prince died, dedicating a whole post to him because come on, it’s motherfucking Prince.

Chiller Theatre was a little bit before my time, but my dad LOVED IT and would often reference it, so I had no choice but to know about it. For those non-Pittsburghers, Bill Cardille is a local treasure. As the persona Chill Billy, he hosted the show Chiller Theater, which aired sci-fi and horror movies. He also had a tourism company, which my grandma and Aunt Sharon used a few times for their trips to Europe, and it was like a huge deal that they were essentially “vacationing” with Chilly Billy. They always raved about how nice of a guy he was, and now I wish I had met him!

When I was helping my mom clean out my grandparents’ house last year, I came across a bunch of pictures they had taken from those trips, and he was in a lot of them. Everyone looked so happy AND NOW EVERYONE IS DEAD.

#SoDepressed

UGH talk about total childhood memories! When I was a kid, Nick At Nite used to play legitimate classic sitcoms, like The Donna Reed Show, Leave It To Beaver, and the Patty Duke Show. I used to fucking watch the shit out of those shows after dinner, while writing letters to my pen pals that I found in the Alby’s Big Boy kids menu. (THEY EVEN PRINTED MY ADDRESS ONE TIME!!!!!) So when I think of Patty Duke, I think of innocent TV times. Also, HELEN KELLER? And she gave birth to MIKEY FROM THE GOONIES?! This lady ruled.

Who would have thought the murder (I don’t care what you say, it was murder) of a gorilla would spawn such an intense Internet meme? You can’t even read the comments on ANYTHING without seeing at least one Harambe-centric comment (unless you peep the comments on this here blog, because there are usually none, lol all the way home from the market). Harambe is the new Illuminati, I guess.

Dicks out for Harambe. :(

I’m not a boxing fan by any means, but this was just a big loss for sports in general. We were in Louisville last September and I wanted to go and see his grave but Henry was all “[BIG DUMB EXCUSES]” so I didn’t get to see it. :(

****

OK, I think that pretty much covers the RIP Glenns from spring and summer. I’ll be back later with fall and winter 2016. Boo hiss. Death sucks.

Happy Freakin’ New Year, guys! We greeted the new year with mild excitement and little effort, lots of Kpop and some neighborly confrontations. Henry and Chooch made strange-tasting sugar cookies & I drank wine. Basically just a regular night up here in the Appledale shanty. 

2016 was the worst year I have personally experienced in 20 years. I get it – let’s not blame a random calendar year, etc. But there’s no denying that this past year was heavy with a glaze of depression, oppression, and great loss all around for everyone, universally. I experienced personal loss myself and the best way I can explain it is that it was like having my childhood resurrected only to watch it get stabbed to death right before my eyes. Most of the year was a living nightmare, no hyperbole intended. 

I learned a lot about myself (for instance, I haven’t healed from past traumas like I thought I had, just built a wall around my heart stronger than any dumb wall Trump has in mind), cried a lot (I am extremely emo though), but I also got to spend time with a lot of awesome people, and that’s my takeaway: no matter how shitty everything may be, friends will always make it seem OK. (I guess also I couldn’t have gotten through it all without dumb Henry and Chooch, too.)

I went to even more shows alone this past year and have discovered that I actually like it! Being alone is ok sometimes, especially if it means not forfeiting doing something you want to do just because you don’t have anyone to do it with you. It’s helped the “old Erin” resurface a bit more, and I remembered how much I kind of liked her, even though she made bad decisions and was SUPER OBNOXIOUS and TEMPERAMENTAL, lol. A cameo here and there is OK. 

So for 2017, I want to take all the good from 2016 and multiply it by a million. I want to:

• hang out more with my friends / being more diligent in solidifying plans so they don’t fall thru – socializing takes effort!
• make new friends (BUT KEEP THE OLD ONES, ONE IS SILVER AND THE OTHER GOLD – Girl Scouts throwback, y’all.)
• go to even more shows (and I went to A LOT in 2016–I think it may have been a record for me!)
• travel more (literally every trip we took last year involved traveling for a concert or festival, with the exception of Disney, so I want to go places with the sole intent of being a tourist)
• finally redo the third floor so that my out-of-town friends can stay here when they visit! (AND ALSO BANDS CAN CRASH HERE)
• spend time with the THREE NEW GRANDKIDS that Henry is expecting! (I guess it makes me a fauxma?)
• actually start researching what I need to do realize my dream and not work in an office for the rest of my life
• do more kpopx!
• take more pictures with my broken camera and get back into film photography too because I miss that shit
• be more outspoken about social issues because just because 2016 is over, doesn’t mean the nightmare is going to just go away.
• Learn to cook (LOL EW JK)
• continue being ridiculous with Chooch, i.e. driving Henry mad. 

(Some of my favorite shows from last year: Dance Gavin Dance, Anthony Green, any of the four times I saw Citizen/Mat Kerekes, The Cure, Ke$ha, RIOT FEST.)

And the Carly Rae Jepsen show!!

So that’s that. Let’s all stay positive and be better, because flipping a page in a calendar isn’t going to automatically make things better. Write that shit on your hand if you need a reminder. 

I was preparing for another boring Friday night on the homefront when Haley messaged me and told us to come hang out with her and Blake at the bowling alley right down the street and I was like “Yo, don’t gotta ask me twice!” Get me outta this house, you know?

But then Henry was sleeping (it was only 8!!) because he’s Henry and that’s what Henry does.

Sleep.

It took Chooch and me a good 25 minutes to get him out of bed because he’s the absolute worst. I think he’s narcoleptic and I hate him. But seriously, Papa H should be happy that his grown-ass son willingly wants to be seen in public with his dopey dad.

And that’s how we ended up having a really fun Friday night instead of staying home where I would probably just watch Kpop videos all night and maybe have a glass of wine and Chooch would probably play some dumb computer game and then we would both take turns yelling disparaging things at a slumbering Henry.

Blake and Haley’s friends Arthur and Claudia were there too and it was so much fun! I love being out in a group. SAFTEY IN NUMBERS.

Here are some pictures!

Henry was pissed because he got three strikes in a row toward the end and no one fell to his feet in adulation.

“Sorry, I don’t praise people for cheating,” I shrugged, and he started mumbling how he wasn’t cheating and Blake was just like, “Yeah OK dad.”

Nice try, Henry.

Haley and Chooch are the best frenemies. Haley told me that at my Christmas party, they were playing Likewise with Robbie & Nikki. The whole point of that game is that everyone has a dry-erase sign that they have to write their answers on, and you’re supposed to try and get the same answer as everyone else. At one point, the prompt was “female tool.” Obviously, everyone had the same answer of “vibrator,” but when Chooch held up his sign, it said “motorized weener.”

“I couldn’t think of what it was called!” Chooch cried. Oh my god, I’m so glad I wasn’t in the room for that! Ugh, my son, ladies and gentlemen.

Blake brought a whole purse full of patience last night.

We left around 10:45 because the bowling alley doesn’t allow kids there past 11 (not even smart-mouthed ones like Chooch). Henry, Chooch and I walked over to Tom’s Diner before  going home, and that’s when Chooch casually recounted all of the weeners he’s accidentally seen at Warped Tour, the fuck?!

So many weener convos. I guess I’m OK with that though.

For actual New Years Eve, it’s just the three of us, chilling at home. Which is exactly how I like it. Henry will probably fall asleep 837248972348 times before midnight though. What an asshole.

Here’s my NYE gift to you: my current favorite Kpop song!

Tonight, Austin Carlile officially announced his decision to leave Of Mice & Men because of his health. While I’m glad his priority is his physical well-being, I am for sure going to miss the way his screams made me feel at so many Warped Tours. 

I took these pictures of him in 2011. Hopefully someday he will be able to return to music, but he will always have a place in my heart regardless. 

Austin has spent so many years healing his fans. Now it’s time for him to focus on healing himself. <3

Picture it:

The year was 1999.

A hot July evening.

I was 19.

It had been about 6 months since I quit my job at stupid EchoStar, and my old co-worker Roniece wanted to catch up. The problem was that Roniece was over 21 and she didn’t want to go to Eat n Park for a motherfucking milkshake, you know? Her plan was to go to a strip club. Some male strip club in Braddock, one of the less savory neighborhoods of Pittsburgh.

This sounded like A Great Idea to me. I mean, this was back when I used to spray paint my feet gold, so most ideas sounded like great ideas to me.

My friend Keri wanted to join us, and now it was really starting to feel like a legit party. So on this hot summer evening in 1999, Keri and I drove to Roniece’s house in McKeesport, where Keri got stung by a bee and that’s how I found out that my friend of approx. 10 years was allergic to bees. Roniece’s grandma performed some old housewives’ miracle and Keri was healed, but that’s a story for another time because I only want to talk about myself right now.

THIS STORY IS ABOUT ME.

Before we left Roniece’s, she pulled out a fat blunt and this back when I was dumb and did stupid things like pop pills full of Ephedrine and starve myself for days because So Fat, Such Chunk. So Keri was all, “JUST SO NO” but I was all, “GIMME DAT” and thus started the night out on a high note.

OH….!

Now we were ready. Roniece wanted to go to a bar beforehand and I pulled my pockets inside out, like “Hello, no fake ID.” But Roniece just laughed and promised me that Keri and I wouldn’t get carded where she was taking us….

…which was the diviest bar that ever dove on some pot-hole ridden side street in Duquesne. We had to park in an alley, and go in through a suspiciously plain door on the side of a building that had no name, no windows.

“Just be cool. Don’t draw attention to us and ya’ll will be fine,” Roniece prepped our underage asses before entering The Bar.

Motown wafted out as soon as we pulled back the door; the bar inside was small and non-descript, not even the tiniest hint of saloon aesthetic. It was all over-flowing ashtrays and varying shades of brown. The patrons were older, urban, and all-around unenthused at the prospect of sharing their sacred space with a bunch of youngins. Keri and I got a few quick side-eyes as we sat down at the bar, but everyone quickly went back to staring into their beers while we giddily shared a pitcher of Long Island iced teas with Roniece.

Thank god I can’t remember how cool we must have thought we were, sitting at some sticky bar, drinking amateur cocktails in the company of legit sad sacks hiding from their wives.

I started digging around in my purse.

“What are you doing?” Keri asked suspiciously. Homegirl had been my friend since elementary school and was well-versed in my shady ways. My every movement was a cause for concern in her eyes.

“Just looking for some change so I can request a song on the jukebox,” I answered happily, because Long Island iced teas.

Armed with quarters, I went over to the jukebox and assessed the situation. Clinked in a quarter, punched in the numbers, went back to the bar.

“What did you play,” Roniece asked, right as the SEXY SAX INTRO of “Careless Whisper” cut through the thick swirls of cigarette smoke and regret.

You know that scene in Adventures in Babysitting where the suburban kids infiltrate a blues club? And everyone immediately stops talking because disgusted glares work better in a quiet room? That’s what happened on this night, in this bar, in this dilapidated part of town.

Every last bloodshot eyeball was focused on me, the giddy white bitch who skipped-to-her-lou into their bar and polluted their nicotine-curtained air with George Michael’s oozing sex appeal.

Keri covered her face.

“What? It’s Careless Whisper,” I said.

“Yeah, I know what it is!” Keri snapped and went back to shielding her face from the scowls attacking us from every angle. 

Roniece threw her head back and let out a huge laugh. “Girl! I told you to be cool!”

And I’m like, “But this is fucking George Michael, man!” Literally I had no idea what I did wrong, because anytime I hear that song, it always felt so right.

SO VERY RIGHT.

We left after a second pitcher of Long Island iced tea, and before I had a chance to request any other tracks from the Carlton Banks Greatest Hits mixtape.

This next part has nothing to do with George Michael, but it does have to do with the moment I died.

We arrived at whatever that goddamn strip club was called in Braddock, but it wasn’t open yet. I remember standing inside the vestibule while Roniece spoke with someone inside, and suddenly I wasn’t feeling right. I stepped back outside to get some air, and the next thing I knew, I was going down, but Ke$ha wasn’t around yet to yell timber.

This next part happened while I was dead.

(Because I swear to you, I was dead. I had done DIED on that sidewalk outside of Sleazy Braddock Stripperie.)

It was Christmas and I was little again! My Pappap was there. We were on the big porch, which is where most of the Christmases were celebrated throughout my childhood. I remember being overcome by extreme happiness and warmth (and most importantly – toys). I was engulfed in one of my greatest childhood memories!

SO THIS WAS HEAVEN.

And then I heard my aunt Sharon calling my name.

Erin Erin Erin.

Over and over.

And then I saw A BRIGHT WHITE LIGHT.

It doesn’t get any more textbook than that.

I was dead.

But the sound of my aunt’s voice brought me back.

Granted, it was Keri and Roniece who were screaming my name into my face, and the bright white light was the streetlight above me. BUT STILL.

Friend has near-death experience on street in a dangerous part town: that’s a pretty big party foul. Keri grabbed my car keys and dropped Roniece off at home. Then we stopped at a gas station in McKeesport where she bought a loaf of bread through a bullet-proof window, the bread was to soak up the poison in my stomach. And then she took me home where three more of our friends came over and babysat me in shifts.

And this is one of the reasons why Keri’s mom absolutely hated me. I was “too much drama” apparently. Like, who? Me!? No, not me.

A few days later, Roniece called to check in on me, and she admitted that maybe, perhaps, possibly there was a slight chance that the blunt she gave me was laced. That in addition to my so chic eating disorder, diet pill addiction and Long Island iced tea dinner was probably enough to stop my fucking heart. But what do I know!? I turned into a walking billboard for Just Say No after that.

Every time we go to Kennywood, I love to point out the little turn-around on the side of a road in West Mifflin where Keri had to swerve the car so I could puke up all my regrets on the way home.

***

“And so that’s what I think of whenever I hear George Michael,” I said in conclusion to this very personal tale at work on the Tuesday after George Michael’s death.

“What, your poor judgment?” Glenn mumbled.

WHATEVER GLENN, I LOVE THIS STORY.

Spotify was nice enough to compile my most played songs of the year. Most of this is like “Oh hello, Mr.Shocking. Welcome to the House of Predictability.”

Anyway, maybe this here’s something you can listen to while cleaning the litter box or burying that body in the woods. Hopefully you’ve got good service. 

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Oh wow, more merry merry holiday recaps, thank god. 

I can’t even believe I’m about to say this about my own kid, but wow is he so unlike me sometimes! There was only one thing he wanted for Christmas, and had been telling us since at least the beginning of summer. I remember thinking, “A Nintendo 3DS? Wow, aren’t those like, yesterday’s news?” I’m too busy immersed in my own interests and obsessions to keep up with the world of gaming, but evidently, every single Nintendo gaming system was in high demand this season, even the 3DS XL.

Of course, we didn’t know this until three days before Xmas (THREE DAYS BEFORE – we’re getting less and less last minute each year, you guys!) when some asshole at GameStop laughed at us like we just asked to see the motherfucking basement of the goddamn Alamo.

So I decided, on Christmas Eve, that I was going to gently break the news to Chooch so that he wouldn’t be super disappointed on actual Christmas. And by gently, I mean that I s-l-o-w-l-y ripped off that Pokemon Band-Aid while saying things like, “OK promise you won’t get mad” and “Please don’t hate me, but….” until finally I think he figured out where my hemming and hawing was leading (even though I tried to throw the “you’re adopted” curveball at him) and you know what? HE DID NOT THROW A FIT.

How is that my kid?

HOW HAS HE BEEN WATCHING ME THROW TEMPER TANTRUMS FOR THE LAST 10 YEARS AND NOT ONCE FELT THE NEED TO EMULATE ME?

Because if that was 10-year-old Erin and my mom was all, “Sorry, but the Brony phenomenon started 20 years early and there’s not one My Little Pony to be had, I checked EVERY LAST KAY-BEE” I would have slammed ten thousand doors and broken every glass object that dared to stand in front of my testosterone surge.

But Chooch was all, “It’s OK, I understand” and proceeded to be completely happy with the other non-coveted items we bought him.

Like, wow.

Whose kid is he!?

Oh right, Henry is a parent, also.

Christmas morning was really good, you guys. It was peaceful. We didn’t fight (not until later at the cemetery but we always fight at the cemetery because using my broken camera makes me lose my temper), just hung out and listened to all of my favorite bands while Chooch had about 19 different toys in action all at once.

Henry is like, so thoughtful.

We could have probably just got him a handful of Pokemon cards and he would have been content.

And scratch offs. The kid loves himself some lottery.

Butt-crack scratch offs.

Papa Bae* got me another beautiful piece of The Cure art to add to the collection! THANKS BAE.

*(Never gets old. To you, it probably does. And definitely to Henry.)

Obligatory Christmas family photo, in between me yelling at them and them rolling their eyes.

Henry brought a ziplock bag of black olives, which made me scream in horror.

“Um, I thought you love black olives?” he sighed.

“I do! But not in this context!” I screamed.

“In this context? You mean, in a plastic bag?”

YES THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN, ASSHOLE.

Speaking of black olives! We had our team Christmas lunch last week at Villa Reale. I sat next to Amber1 and THANK GOD I DID, because she ordered a side salad and then proceeded to pick out all of the olives.

I cried, “If you don’t want your olives, I’ll take them!” and so she made a little pile of olives for me, which I later smashed into my slice of cheese pizza. Black olives is basically the only pizza topping I care about.

Glenn and Todd were sitting across from me and seemed disgusted by my olive actions, but I didn’t care. My pizza tasted so much more familiar after that.

Actually, here is a picture of that time it took three people to pull apart a piece of garlic bread, with my olives waiting patiently for their hot, greasy bed to splay across like Miss(es) December(s).

Ugh, erotic olives get me every time!

But yeah…olives from a plastic bag? That’s not hot.

Came home after our “picnic” and spent the rest of the day relaxing, watching Netflix things, not giving a shit about the Steelers, and spying on the neighbors. 

Oh, and lots of KpopX workouts!

Well, that was my Xmas 2016. It was kind of perfect, not gon’ lie.  Most days, I feel like your basic Schleprock, but on this particular Christmas, I felt pretty lucky. DON’T TELL HENRY I SAID THAT, EW.

I’m spending my free time today scrambling to catch up with all of the RIP Glenns that have been piling up. What a shitty year for celebrity deaths. It doesn’t help that I have the real Glenn sitting behind me, saying things like, “What about Zsa Zsa Gabor Glenn? Did you do a John Glenn Glenn yet?” And I’m like, “UGH I KNOW OK, THEY’RE ON MY EVER-GROWING LIST.”

“—-what about Arnold Palmer Glenn?”

UGH I ALREADY DID THAT ONE. God, take a gander at the RIP Wall every now and again, would you?!

And then Gayle was all, “ARE YOU GOING TO DO A PRINCESS LEIA GLENN?!” and I almost yelled, “I QUIT.” But instead, I mumbled, “Yeah I started one and then I SCREWED IT UP.”

(I have a separate post to do for George Michael. Le sigh.)

So here, please enjoy some pictures of my cats, Penelope Ann Killer (a/k/a Peen Lop) and Drew Nightmare Walden (a/k/a Potato) while I draw my hands off. </3

Her markings remind me a little bit of Speck (RIP).

(UGH, SO MANY RIPs.)

She is seriously an idiot.

The best cat. -Riley

^^^EW! I left the draft of this open on the computer at home and it looks like I’VE BEEN HACKED.

P.S. I just went to CVS on my lunch break to buy colored pencils because I need ONE BROWN for shading and it was $7!! That seems like so much! (Can you tell I rarely shop for things other than records and concert tickets?!)

I wonder if I can get reimbursed…

Lol j/k. 

For the first time in 6 years, we went to my mom’s house for Christmas. Technically, it was Christmas Eve-Eve, but it still had just the right amount of holiday feels. This has been a tremendously difficult year for my family, and while I wanted to go out of the town for the weekend and pretend like Christmas wasn’t happening, I knew I couldn’t do that to my mom. She lost her sister, her childhood home, and three of her pets in less than a year. What a fucking year.

And you know what? It ended up being fine. Better than fine — it was really nice and relaxed, and the food was great (I definitely didn’t inherit any of my mom’s cooking skills), and the decor was beautiful. Henry’s contribution was some kind of egg and polenta casserole thing that he found in one of his housewife magazines, which he misplaced and started tearing the house apart like a wildman while yelling at me and his mom. I was about to get all defensive up in here but then I remembered that I constantly throw his stuff away, so…

But then he found it on the table or who knows where, so crisis averted.

“Are there mushrooms in this?” Corey asked around a forkful of the polenta slop.

“YEAH WHY ARE YOU ALLERGIC?!” I cried in alarm.

“No, I just don’t really like mushrooms,” Corey laughed nervously, but then he said he was surprised that he liked the slop after all! Maybe there’s hope that Henry can trick our kid into eating vegetables by the time he’s 26.

My mom’s aesthetic couldn’t be any different than mine*, but I really love it.

*(Said beneath a picture featuring clown figurines.)

We used to have this big, beautiful wooden Noah’s Ark in that bay window, with lot of wooden animal pairs to go with it, but then over the years our dog Rama ran off with roughly 75% of them, so I guess my mom finally got rid of it. It was weird not seeing it there. I started to explain it to Henry, who cut me off and said, “Yeah I know, I’ve seen it before.

”

“YOU DIDN’T SEE IT WHEN IT WAS GOOD, THOUGH!” I yelled, because that’s how I communicate with Henry. At high volumes with a hatchet behind my back.

The faces of people watching a kid try to make a constipated reindeer poop candy.

This picture cracks (originally typed CRAPS — you guys, I’m starting to seriously worry about my brain. I USED TO BE A SPELLING AND GRAMMAR SNOB AND NOW LOOK AT ME) me up. If you’ve ever been around us, you’ve probably definitely seen Henry in this exact pose: A Sleep-Deprived, Down-Trodden Man’s Anguish^TM.

Big shot Henry made another coconut (originally typed “cocunt” – someone order me an MRI, I’m scared) cream pie, this time with HOMEMADE WHIPPED CREAM laced with RUM. Thanks, Kitchen Wench.

Chooch got my mom a candle and a copy of his school picture, which he signed “My Beautiful Face” on the back. It was eerily reminiscent of the time I blew up and framed a close-up of my face for my grandma for Christmas one year and she was just like, “Oh.”

After dinner, Henry could stand it no longer and crashed on a chair in the living room. Meanwhile, my mom got Chooch so many Pokémon cards and that really kept him quiet so good thinking, Val! Also, she found two tubes of Pogs and at first my brother Ryan thought they were mine, but after .0002 seconds of rifling though them, I deduced that they were actually his because they were way too basic to be mine. I mean, one was a yin yang for fuck’s sake!

Mad props to my mom for wanting to end the year on a nice, peaceful note when it’d be just as easy to lay in bed and cry about it. Which is usually how I spend holidays. #sadgirl4L

Oh boy, guess what time it is?! Annual Christmas portraits of Chooch in the cemetery! And as usual, it was the only time we fought all day because I get so irritated with using my actual camera anymore.

I use this excuse every single time, but my camera is like a dying dog that needs puts out of its misery. But buying a new one is just not something I care about right now (priorities: concerts and traveling for concerts) so I keep dragging the old, broken bitch out of the house when the time comes, which really is only about twice a year these days because I’m lazy and apathetic as fuck. But at least this time I remembered to charge the battery the night before!

As usual, there was tons of fighting in the beginning. The camera was all out of whack and I started launching death threats at Henry because everything is his fault. But then he fiddled with the setting and everything was OK but I still hated him so he hung back and let us do our thing.

We eventually walked across the street to the other side of the cemetery and Henry completely left us alone, and suddenly Chooch and I were best friends and I hadn’t yelled, “JUST FORGET IT!

” and marched off in a huff in at least 10 minutes! A record!

Anyway, here are pictures of my kid, age 10, on Christmas 2016 after eating a lazy picnic of egg salad sandwiches and Chips Ahoy that Henry half-assedly tossed into a tiny cooler. These picnics are dying the same slow death as my camera!

It looks like Chooch is so congenial here! But what was actually happening was he was saying, “FUCK MY LIFE” with a mirthless laugh.

And here he is laughing at my camera-caused anguish.

This was probably when I was yelling, “EVERYTHING I DO FOR YOU AND YOU CAN’T SMILE FOR ONE FUCKING PICTURE!?”

Things got OK from this point on. I wasn’t feeding off of Henry’s presence anymore and my blood pressure was starting to level out.

I don’t know why, but somehow the theme became “Sad Mouseketeer” – I just rolled with it because Chooch was actually being pleasant to work with and sometimes you just have to let the model take the lead.

The “please adopt me” face.

This is the look he’s usually giving me at any given moment of the day.

When we got in the car to leave, Chooch said to Henry, “Daddy, everything was fine once you left.” SEE?! Henry is the catalyst.

And then the rest of the day was fine because I didn’t have a camera in my hand. Henry said it probably just needs serviced and I was like YOU NEED SERVICED UGH.