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.

Chooch was really stoked to get this book from Octavia, and as he excitedly flipped through the pages, he said he couldn’t wait to read it. 

“It’s pretty scary I guess, because Octavia asked me if it was OK to get it for you,” I said.

“Oh like you give an eff if anyone in this house has nightmares,” Chooch scoffed, a montage of Doll and Man in the Attic likely flip-booking through his mind. Welcome to Erin’s Brookline Shanty of Horrors! “Unless you’re the one having the nightmare, then we all have to care.”

Henry started choking on whatever dumb breakfast thing he’s savagely eating, because I guess he agrees with this. WHATEVER. 

(But I mean, I do have really amazing nightmares.)

Merry Christmas Eve! Henry is wrapping presents while we watch The Fall (thanks for the recommendation, Chris! and I try to talk myself out of the notion that he could be a serial killer. HE GOES “TO THE STORE” WAY TOO OFTEN.

Anyway, this is our first Christmas with Drew and Penelope. They’re being dicks, but they sure look cute doing it.

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Chooch hasn’t believed in Santa in years, so I get all of my fun these days by labeling his presents in ridiculous ways. Like, this year, one is from “that lady’s ass in the Kanye West video.” And obviously, there’s one from Boots too.

I’m typing this with one contact in because (surprise, surprise) my one eye is like, screaming at me so many Santa will bring me new eyeballs. Or at the very least, a resurrected pair of my beloved big green glasses.

kbye.

Last weekend was one of those weekends where absolutely nothing was planned and nothing spectacular happened, but it was still so satisfying in a low-key, housebound way. IF THAT MAKES ANY SENSE. I feel like for no reason whatsoever, Chooch and I were extremely batshit bonkers, more than usual, even though he was sick….so OK maybe it was mostly me being a giddy noisemaker.

One thing’s for sure though: I took a lot of pictures. WANNA SEE THEM, HERE THEY GO.

Penelope, imitating Robert Smith.

There’s this American Kpop dancer that I LOVE (jellybeannose) and I was making Henry watch her YouTube channel. We watched a lot of her “random facts about me” videos and then on Saturday we watched her FOUR PART VLOG from when she went to KOREA in 2013 for a Kpop competition!! But then BOOTS AND PHYLLIS kept interrupting that with their explosive fighting (an update on them is forthcoming). 

Chooch had an ear infection and spent most of his weekend making rainbow loom bracelets (lame). When I took this picture, he we freestyling a song about how he was dying of an ear ache and all his mom cared about was getting drunk on a Saturday night. Hey, I wasn’t sick so I could do what I wanted. 

Earlier that day, he insisted on watching the Polar Express and I only half-watched but hated it. The animation made me uncomfortable! (He rolled his eyes at me for that.) Also, he was mad because I asked him when someone was going to die. 

Me: WHY ARE THEY SO CREEPY?

Chooch: Well, they’re elves, so….

You know what else makes me uncomfortable? The Merci chocolate commercial where they sing that ZZ Top “Thank You” song. 

More rainbow looming, under the watchful eye of Mr. Tom Selleck 

On Sunday, Chooch had piano lessons and we both gave Cheryl a present – I gave her a mixtape painting and he gave her — SURPRISE — a rainbow loom bracelet. And then we competed to see whose present she liked best but she wouldn’t tell us. 

“Yeah, well, she can’t WEAR yours,” Chooch said. 

“I mean, I could probably wear it around my neck….but that would be weird,” Cheryl said. 

She is honestly the best and I hope she never quits teaching him piano. But if she does, I hope we can become friends IRL (as opposed to just inside my head). 

Came home and had a HUGE fight (ok not really) with Henry, a/k/a Worst Boyfriend Ever, because he said he wouldn’t rise from the dead to avenge my death if we were both murdered. NO WE WEREN’T WATCHING THE CROW, WHAT. 

Henry took this picture of Chooch & me, conspiring against him and I love it because this image captures our devious relationship so perfectly. WE ARE MENACES. 

Meanwhile, Henry baked some bomb coconut cream pie. Our little Martha Stewart, rewarding our shitty behavior with dessert. 

We show our affection by fluffing Henry’s beard and he hates it. 

To cap off the weekend, I made henry drive us around so I could judge people’s Christmas lights. I AM VERY PARTICULAR ABOUT LIGHT DISPLAYS. 

“Did you just call that house a monstrosity?” Chooch asked from the backseat. DAMN RIGHT I DID. Don’t mix big bulbs with small bulbs and I won’t criticize your gross judgment, sloppy homeowner. 

I get real heated about this. 

I know, you probably have me pegged as the type who gets a thrill out of those houses buried under eight tons of bulbs with every square inch of their yard occupied by blow-up Santas and plastic snowmen and you know what? GUILTY! But I also really love houses that do nothing more than line their frame with those old-school big bulbs, the kinds that were prominent in the 70s and 80s I guess. 

And I love the minimalists, with candles in the windows, bows on the doors, and a subtle spotlight illuminating the house. 

It’s easy to judge when your house has zero decoration on the outside, haha. 

We listened to Joyce Manor the whole time and that was just so divine. 

Not an outrageous weekend full of social engagements and milestones, but it still felt pretty perfect. <3

Christmas card inspiration didn’t strike me until Monday so I wasn’t able to get many of these in the mail (LOL, in a world where many = 1). 

Of course Henry has to be wearing a Faygo shirt, but then Chooch insisted on having me wear a Citizen shirt since that’s the last band I went to see a few weeks ago. That’s FINE, I love Citizen, but I probably would’ve chosen The Cure of Dance Gavin Dance if he had consulted me. 

Anyway, happy holidays, etc! We’re nowhere near ready as usual. 

I was supposed to be helping Henry shop tonight but if you know me even at all you know that I hate shopping, especially Christmas shopping (twist ties and Skittles and something else from my junk drawer for everyone!) so then Henry and I had a fight because I WAS SO OVER STORES AND CASHIERS AND NO ONE HAVING WHAT WE NEEDED BECAUSE HENRY INSISTS ON WAITING UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE.

(Although, three days before Xmas is like super good for us.)

So now I’m home alone (Chooch is at Judy’s) while Henry went back out to deal with this shit. Fuck presents.

Since I’m in a sour mood, I decided to engage is a real tough mental exercise by listing THREE GOOD THINGS from today.

1. Obviously #1 was when I was forced Chooch to get his picture taken with Santa after work. This was before the shopping, back when Henry and I were still on the same side, and I hadn’t yet missed my 7PM mandatory coffee fill-up. We went to Meder’s, which is where we usually go for Santa picture-happenings, if we even go at all. Because, lazy parents. It wasn’t crowded at all, but we still had to stand in a short line for about 10 minutes, which gave Chooch a chance to reflect upon his poor decisions. “I don’t know why I agreed to this. And this sweater is too small. And how the hell is that reindeer supposed to carry an entire sleigh?” he grumbled, pointed to a stuffed reindeer in a North Pole vignette. And then Santa waved to him while we were in line! SANTA REMEMBERED HIM. Soon it was his turn and, after hissing, “I’m way too old for this” to me, he got nice and cozy with Santa and gleefully said, “NINTENDO 3DS* AND LEGOS” when Santa asked him what he wanted. I told him to go against the grain and ask for world peace, but don’t listen to me, I’m just a basic social justice warrior, a/k/a liberal whiner. “That was so creepy,” he said afterward in the car. “Santa had his legs spread open too far and it made me nervous.”

*(LOL, good luck. Fuck you, Nintendo.)

2. I am OBSESSED with this Joyce Manor song and have been pining for them ever since I saw them last month, please come back to me Joyce Manor (this whole album is on my list Best of 2016 list, it’s so goddamn great). Henry particularly loves it when I put this on in the car and perform fancy hand-dances in his face while he’s driving. “THIS IS MORE DANGEROUS THAN TEXTING WHILE DRIVING, ERIN” he yells and that’s probably true but I JUST CAN’T STOP MYSELF:

3. This is really tough to come up with three. Today didn’t SUCK, but it wasn’t wonderfully exceptional, either. Um, I bought a ticket to see Pianos Become the Teeth next month?! Amer2 brought in cookies that she made with her dad and they were good?! And I got to spend all day trying to convince people that I made them because she set them out near my desk? But no one believed me? OH HERE’S A THING: I renamed Glenn “The Office Voldemort” and he actually seemed kind of upset about it, like after all of these years, and all these photoshops, I finally went too far. Lori seemed on board though.

Oh well, I think I failed this exercise. Henry Claus should be home soon and I bet he’s PISSED, lol. OH WELLz0rz! I’ll just turn up the Joyce Manor.

Sometimes (read: all of the time), all Henry wants to do is just relax. And that’s what he was trying to do on Sunday, when he stretched out on the chair and was just about to start scrolling through the nothingness of Pinterest on his phone, when my “HENRY IS TAKING A BREAK—ABORT, ABORT” alarm started sounding off in my head. This is always my cue to go into HIGH DEPENDANCY mode. Usually this entails:

• jumping on him
• screaming HENRY for no reason
• suddenly needing him to go to the store for tampons
• if he has the audacity to take Relaxing Time upstairs to the bedroom, I will sit downstairs and call him on the phone repeatedly
• needing him to open a random jar of something
• abruptly wrenching out of a nap to tell him something about MTV’s The Challenge or that MADDY LIM FROM KPOPX REPLIED TO ME ON INSTAGRAM (<———–this just happened at 12:30am and you better believe I shook the shit out of Henry and instead of just telling him, I made him LOOK AT MY PHONE and he was so scared that someone had died)
  • I wonder if he remembers this happening. I should call him at work to tell him again

But on this occasion, there were some random Christmas decorations strewn about nearby the chair, including a red garland that Lori brought to my holiday party last week which I knew at some point would come in handy, so it became clear that Henry’s sole purpose of laying on the chair was to be decorated.

Chooch made that Henry elf ornament around 5 years ago.

Henry would have a better chance being left alone if he parked inside a convention of timeshare salespeople, begging winos, and sex addicts whose type is Mountain Men. Maybe he should he just get a secret apartment. Or go to his mom’s.

When I woke up last Wednesday, I was in A Mood. Going to work felt like a drag. Our department’s Christmas party was that day and I just wasn’t feeling any sort of way about the holidays. I mean, I hadn’t reached Critical Grinch status, but I was getting close. JUST ONE OF THOSE DAYS, except swap out “days” with “years.”

You guys, I even opted out of Secret Santa. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE SECRET SANTA?! :(

I got to work and at first it was all, “Ugh work. Ugh Glenn. Ugh stupid desk—–with A BOX ON IT HEY WHAT’S IN THIS BOX?!”

Oh, I’ll tell you what was in the box: a shoofly pie…from Lancaster!

Ahhhh, Virginia is so sweet! I went to her office to thank her and she said, “I thought I remembered hearing you say you like shoofly pie.” I went back to my desk and told Glenn, who was like, “Who DIDN’T hear you say that? You talked about it for about a year.” Ugh, whatever. But OK, that’s true.

Also on my desk was a sugar cookie-scented wax thingie from Gayle. She gave me a cinnamon one several years back and it still smells so wonderful! So I was happy to get another one. I can’t brag too much about this one though because she gave one to everyone. YAWN.

A few minutes later, Sandy walked by with a huge bag of British chocolate and let me pick me one, and then right after that, Lori gave me a cookie.

“WHY DO PEOPLE LIKE YOU” Glenn grunted in disgust, which is always my cue to turn around, tilt my head, place a hand under my chin, and then smile sweetly.

“It’s because of this,” I said, Vanna White’ing my face with my free hand, at which point Todd groaned and maybe possibly threw up a little.

A few hours later, I overheard Gayle over in her dark cave, talking to a visiting JP about the smelly wax things.

“This one is my favorite, it’s lemon lavender. Here, smell it,” she said to JP, at which point I nearly flipped over my chair in my effort to get my nostrils closer to the lavender.

“I want to smell it too!” I cried, inserting myself into their scented wax smell-o-thon.

Gayle let me have a deep whiff. I made a really sad face and said, “I like that one better than the one you gave me.”

“Well, this one is mine, so….” Gayle started to say before remembering who she was talking to. “I might have an extra one at home….oh for God’s sake, here. Just take this one.” And as I giddily ran back to my desk with my new wax thing, I heard her sigh to JP, “I just can’t stand to see her pout like that.”

“Bully,” Todd said as I dangled my winnings over Glenn’s desk.

Meanwhile, a Chinese auction and raffle was going on. Every year, people donate unused goods, which are then put together into various themed gift baskets for people to bid on, and all the proceeds go to whichever charity/good cause our department had collectively chosen for that year. Then there are other items which are raffled off. As usual, I didn’t have cash on me, and at first I didn’t care, until Wendy made me go and look at all the stuff that was up for grabs.

And that’s when I saw it.

SUCCULENT NOTE CARDS. They were part of a “local art” collection and I desperately wished I had a dollar, or four quarters or whatever, so I could buy a dumb raffle ticket.

But I didn’t, so I went back to my desk and worked, which I’m sure seems shocking to a lot of people, the image of me working.

Later in the afternoon, before the drawing was set to happen, I heard Gayle buying more tickets from the admin person.

“Gayle, give me one of your tickets,” I said, nay—demanded.

Not only did Gayle give me a ticket, she gave me TWO TICKETS. Yeah she did.

So I put one ticket in the bag for the art stuff, and then, after hesitating, I put the second ticket in the bag for the kitchen-y stuff, because I thought maybe if I won that,  I could give it to Henry and he would be so struck by my thoughtfulness, that he would rewind time and marry me 11 years ago.

The Chinese auction closed at 3. I didn’t care about who won any of that stuff though (however, Gayle won a GIGANTIC Chicago canvas and it’s still sitting on her desk and I crack up every time I walk by it), because I didn’t bid on anything and I truly do only care about myself I guess.

After all that hullabaloo (shout out to Battle of the Network Stars), it was finally time for the raffle drawings. I was still at my desk, working, when I heard the admin girl—Shannon—say my name. That was my cue to speedwalk over to where all the raffle shit was and ask, “DID YOU SAY MY NAME DID I WIN SOMETHING WHAT DID I WIN PLEASE DON’T LET IT BE THE KITCHEN SHIT” and it was the art stuff! I got the succulent notecard set! I also got a cute Cheshire Cat card and tea towel, and a little pot which I gave to Todd because he has zero decorations / personal effects on his desk.

Shannon sent out an email letting everyone know who won what, since not everyone was prize-hungry like me and low-key loitering around a corner trying to hear if their name was called. Almost immediately, I got an email from Wendy that said, very succinctly, “OMG YOU ARE THE WORST!!!!

” Because Wendy knew that I made Gayle give me two of her tickets.

I think that might have been my most winningest moment of the day though, knowing how appalled this made Wendy. I LOVE WINNING! God, Wednesday was a great day.

Another great day was Thursday, when I walked into work and saw that my desk was covered in Xmas décor, lights, and even a tiny tree. There was a note that said, “Maybe this will put you in the Christmas spirit.” Just the day before, I was in the kitchen with her, being a brat about Christmas apathy. “I DIDN’T EVEN MAKE CHRISTMAS CARDS THIS YEAR, CHERYL!” I shouted, really driving it home.

I added my own flair to the garland. It just needed a little bit of Erin, you know?

Well, kudos to you, Cheryl — it worked! The decorations are the complete opposite of everything I represent, and that makes me crack up every day when I sit down at my desk now. And I even felt inspired to get off my ass and make Xmas cards this year after all! I mean, I only just made them last night so probably everyone will get them after Christmas, but AT LEAST I DID IT,

Sometimes work is a weird type of therapy for me. And I guess if you were really hard-pressed for a moral, you could say that BULLYING IS FOR WINNERS. Or, I work with a bunch of enablers.

Henry just now broke the news to me that Zsa Zsa Gabor has passed away. My obsession with her started in 5th grade. I wrote about it during one of the Blogathon things I participated in, so please excuse me as I repost that in her beautiful Hungarian honor.

RIP you mahhhvelous broad.

****

When I Played Zsa Zsa Gabor

July 31, 2010

“You probably don’t know who Zsa Zsa Gabor is, do you?” Barb asked me the other day, having just read of Zsa Zsa’s bone-breakage upon falling out of bed.

“Oh, DO I!” I exclaimed, swiveling around in my chair.

In fifth grade, we had to get into interview/interviewee groups. I have no idea what we were studying that made this a necessary assignment, but I was in a group with my friend Spring and some asshole bitch whose name isn’t even worth mentioning (the same one who years later went on to befriend Henry’s ex-wife!).

Everyone else in the class chose normal people to role-play with, like one girl was Debbie Gibson and the interviewer asked her questions about her new perfume, Electric Youth. Someone was a skateboarder. Another boy was a weatherman. Normal fifth grade character studies!

Me? I was Zsa Zsa Gabor. My Aunt Sharon swore it would be a hit. “Either her, or you could be Imelda Marcos!” I had no idea who either of them were, but Sharon found me a shoulder-padded sequined blouse and a blond wig, so it was decided that I would be Zsa Zsa. Spring was the interviewer, and The Bitch was the cop who received Zsa Zsa’s backhand.

That was the big thing in celebrity news at that time.

The Bitch was perfect for the role as the cop, because she was portly and looked like Chief Wiggums from The Simpsons.

I didn’t know much about Zsa Zsa. Sharon told me to just keep splaying out my hand and saying “Dahhhhling” over and over.

It was a train wreck. No one in the class understood who we were supposed to be, except for Mrs. Madden who was behind the camcorder failing at stifling her laughs.

Somewhere, I have a copy of this disaster on VHS. Maybe one day if I find it, I’ll find a way to put it online so everyone can laugh at my visible discomfort of playing the role of some old Hungarian stranger that no under the age of 40 knew back then, and then dance around in a ring of schadenfreude.

“You’re a very interesting young lady,” Barb said after I told her this story. Interesting is not the word Henry and Alisha would use.

While our country was in the middle of imploding last month, the only thing I could think was, “This year has been like toddler backwash in the cup of life. I just want to be with my friends and not care about anything for a few hours, Henry we’re having a party.” And Henry was like, “—-” and I was like, “Too late, I already invited people.” Henry LOVES when that happens, but at least this time I gave him a three second heads up before he got the Facebook event notification.

I created the event on my phone, probably through tears because a veil of salty face water is 2016’s little black dress. As such, I accidentally spelled party as “parth” and WENDY had a field day with that one. The next day at work, she was like, “I’m going to dress like Jennie Garth to your holiday parth” and then Lori, who had stopped in Wendy’s office right at that moment, was all, “LOL and I’m going to be Shannon Doherty” so then they wanted me to be Tori Spelling?! I was like, “Why do I have to be Tori Spelling!?” and I got unreasonably upset about this, so then Wend was all, “Fine you can be David Silver then. Or Andrea!” and I cried, “I DON’T WANT TO BE ANY OF THOSE PEOPLE!” and stormed back to my desk, even after Lori offered to relinquish her claim on Brenda.

“Wow, that took a turn,” Lori laughed.

#blamewendy

As usual, this was poorly planned. HENRY waited until the last minute to start preparing, after ignoring my month-long texts of food suggestions. His big idea was to make mini ham BBQ sandwiches and I was like, “Wow, how Yinzer of you. Can we fill an old tire full of Coors Lite, too?” And then he waited until two hours into the party to finally serve the vegetarian meatballs I begged him to make, and he only made like 10 of them and had to cut them into little pieces, and then he didn’t even make fancy sauce, he just used STORE BOUGHT ONES. Whatever, Henry. Go fuck yourself.

Also, I spent like FIFTEEN MINUTES at the idiotic grocery store, trying to decide what kinds of crackers to buy, and then we forgot to put them out on the table. And Henry wouldn’t buy fancy bread and instead bought some gross, dry, tiny loaf of party bread that no one ate because it was a real saliva-sucker and I didn’t eat it either. Chooch tried one and then threw it out in front of everyone.

(OK FINE I PICKED OUT THE BREAD BECAUSE I WAS CONFUSED AND FLUSTERED AND JUST WANTED TO BE DONE.)

We were really crunched for time, so I actually offered to help Henry with kitchen-y things. He had me cut peppers (!!!!!). First he gave me a huge knife, then thought better of it and swapped it out with something less dangerous. Still, it took me forever to dice them the way he showed me. I kept asking him what the peppers were for, to which he repeatedly responded with a vague, “Um…I’m not sure yet.”

OH I’LL TELL YOU WHAT THEY WERE FOR: his motherfucking ham BBQ!!! That bastard had me sous-cheffing for his gross meat shit!! Talk about betrayal.

I wanted Henry to make more sweet things too but he made no such thing, so then I just had Janna bake cookies and she did because I told her to. Obedient friends are important to have, guys. And Chris and Monica brought salted caramel bars too so thank god!

At least I didn’t screw up the punches. (And yes, that sign mentions pregnant people because Robbie’s girlfriend is having twins! HENRY IS GOING TO BE A GRANDFATHER!!! And someone else is pregnant too but hasn’t officially announced it yet so I won’t out them on here. And no it’s not me, ew.) Honestly, the beverage buffet is my favorite part of having parties. Plus, I get joy in seeing Blake daintily holding a tiny punch glass.

I did this! Here’s my Pinterest-worthy step-by-step DIY:

1. Hand garland to people.
2. Have them do it for you.

In my case, the “people” were Henry and Robbie. WELL DONE! Robbie also hung my “Merry Christmas” garland for me above the beverage buffet, because Henry was “too busy.”

But then people started to arrive and I didn’t care about the dumb food anymore because woo, distractions!

Guest list:

• Robbie and Nikki
• Blake and Haley
• Sandy, Elene and Zoe
• Amber1 and Brian
• Janna
• Barb
• Lori
• Lauren and Tony
• Chris and Monica
• Wendy, Shawn and Summer
• Sean and Ines
• Shawn and Jess

Lisa and Kara both sadly had to un-RSVP earlier that day because they were sick. :( I was so sad! It seemed weird without them. Although I think maybe Kara was just trying to avoid Henry because she is the QUEEN of finding ridiculous things for sale that she knows will get me all riled up, so she’ll text me the link to various oddities knowing that an impending headache will ensue for Henry, having to hear me whine and beg for things like an old bumper car being auctioned from a defunct amusement park. And then Henry will scream, “THAT THING WOULDN’T EVEN FIT THROUGH OUR FRONT DOOR” and Kara will reply, “If he really loved you, he’d find a way.”

Like, we have a roof you know — cut a hole and drop it through, Henry!

Holy fork receptacle — I DID THIS.

YOU GUYS, THERE ARE TWINS IN THERE. I can’t wait to be the weirdest young faux-grandma ever!!!! LET’S GO TO WARPED TOUR, BABIES!

As if everyone didn’t already feel under-dressed, Zoe had to go and add a garland boa to her ensemble. <3

Chooch said he had a good time at the party but his favorite part was when everyone left. Wow.

Henry and Shawn coming up with a hopeful Mouse Attack stratagem.

Ugh, everyone LOVES Chooch, blah blah blah.

A Somber Convo.

Blake and the dainty punch cup. PINKIE FINGER ACTIVATED.

When Barb walked in, Chooch casually said, “Wrong house.” I love their weird frenemyship.

Also, I think this is the first time I had a party where everyone was there at once (usually my non-game night parties are of a revolving door-variety where some people come early and some come late) so my tiny house was pretty packed. Sorry guys!

Not sorry to my ASSHOLE NEIGHBORS though. Hope all the loud laughter and talking disturbed them. (It probably didn’t though, ugh.)

I jokingly mentioned in the Facebook event thing that perhaps we also do lame crafts, but then it became a reality. Chooch picked out some s’mores craft thing with was evidently extremely frustrating to create, but luckily Sandy came prepared with foam snowflakes, stickers, and markers, so that seemed to appease the kids (and Blake and Haley). I think my favorite scene was Zoe crafting on the Devil rug.

Pictured: Haley using the s’mores craft supplies to make a snowman, while Chris waves her hand at this impromptu display of ingenuity and says, “WHOA.” Meanwhile, Blake just played with an electrical current.

(The s’mores craft really played with Chooch’s patience, that’s for sure. “It was TERRIBLE. Did not work” — Chooch’s 1 star review.)

Henry was in his glory because all of his favorite Sean/Shawns were there.

I wouldn’t let anyone leave without taking their picture with Trudy the Beauty:

The night before, I had a dream that I forgot to make the punch and didn’t realize it until the next morning, but then it ended up not even mattering because no one showed up anyway. I was nervous all day, wondering if everyone was going to cancel on me, but it ended up being such a nice turn-out! Someday, I’ll move out of this shanty and into something bigger, and then EVERYONE CAN COME!

P.S. It’s been a week and my house is still clean! The best part of having parties: Henry DEEP CLEANS.

When I was making a Spotify playlist for my Christmas party last weekend, things got weird. It happens every winter: I subconsciously veer off into my goth origins, and before I could stop myself, the playlist began to fill up with  Greatest Funeral Hits and dark synthpop dirges.

Type O Negative’s “Red Water (Christmas Mourning)” was playing while I searched for my favorite Projekt Holiday compilation tracks to add—Projekt is/was a goth record label and I used to buy all their comps because I was a comp princess—and Henry scoffed, “Seriously, Erin? People have had the worst year of their lives and now they’re going to leave our party in tears.”

I MEAN I WOULDNT GO THAT FAR, HENRY. I had Carly Rae Jepsen tracks on there, for Christ’s sake! But I get it. I gotchu. Not everyone likes to stew in a morose marinade like I do. And truthfully, there was a lot of Cure up in there—and not the happy, radio hits, either. So I remedied that shit by adding some Kpop to the mix. Because how sad can you be with Kpop gyrating into the room while you’re eating handfuls of cheese slices and trying to work up the nerve to ask Henry if he ever killed a bitch in THE SERVICE.

While I was adding my fave Kpop hits, I felt inspired to check YouTube to see if any new developments had happened with KpopX. I hadn’t been working out with them for awhile because they weren’t adding anything new and I was getting bored with the old routines. LONG STORY SHORT, there were new routines, but not only that, I discovered K-KARDIO!!! Holy shit, KpopX has a competitor! So I’ve been back to Kpopping all over the house again and Henry and Chooch are currently embroiled in an intense frown competition. Henry hates how the Kpop songs get stuck in his head, and I’m like, but that’s the best part?

Anyway, during my K-Kardio exploration, I realized that the main choreographer looked very familiar, and it’s because SHE WAS ONE OF THE KPOPX INSTRUCTORS. Holy shit, Jessica left KpopX!?!?

I became worried that there was a rift with her and Maddie, and the creator of KpopX, but then I saw that Maddie still follows her on Instagram, so whew.

I was so excited to share my discovery with Henry, who completely shouldered past me and started doing things he considers “more important” than KpopX, like paying bills or….I don’t know, what are important things? I’m 13, remember.

So then I was like IT’S FINE, MY WORK FRIENDS WILL CARE. But Glenn did not give me the reaction I was looking for, and Todd was just like, “Crazy girl is talking to me again, help.”

Their punishment was that this week’s Friday Video pick was Red Velvet’s “Dumb Dumb,” which is one of my favorite KpopX routines! I hope that it stays stuck in their heads all weekend long.

Amber2 and Sandy seemed to enjoy it though and now they both want a “Dumb” stamp, so hopefully Santa is reading this.

P.S. I kind of like K-Kardio better than KpopX, OMG please don’t tell Maddie!

P.P.S. OMG also I think that Maddie and Jessica might be sisters?!

P.P.P.S. Henry just asked me what “Dumb Dumb” is about and I’m like, “….you?”

P.P.P.P.S. Here’s my Holiday Hangs playlist if anyone cares. I even put a Krampus song on there for Chris and Monica!

Throwback to that time in 2002 when I dressed up a pickle like Henry and he was super annoyed by it.

LOL @ Henry’s molester ‘stache.

It was starting to feel like it had been months since I’d been to a show, maybe since the last one was so terrible. The Citizen show at the Rex couldn’t have come at a better time. This will probably be the last show I go to this year, and I had no doubt that it would be DIVINE.

Citizen decided to do a short tour to coincide with the Something In the Way festival that they’re scheduled to play tonight in NYC, a festival with all Run For Cover bands in the lineup—oh how my heart aches. I would love to go to that! But seeing Citizen headline a small Pittsburgh show was nearly as good.

Henry booted me out of the car outside of the Rex, without giving me any money. I mean, I did my chores*, so what the fuck, Henry?!

*(I washed 1/3 of the dishes in the sink; I always leave behind plastic tumblers because I hate washing those, anything sharp, and things that require actual scrubbing.)

My routine when I go to shows alone is:

1. Pray my ticket is at will call (if I didn’t have it mailed to me)
2. Make a beeline to the bar and nervously ask, “WHAT KIND OF WHEAT BEERS DO YOU HAVE, JUST PICK ONE FOR ME BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW.”
3. Find a dark hole to fall into where no one will see me, talk to me, look at me, judge me, care that I’m there.

On this night, I opted for whatever this thing is in that picture. Except that the bartender kindly reminded me that it was cash only, which I didn’t know because somehow I always have cash when I’m at the Rex except this time – BLAME HENRY. So she sent me off to the lobby where the ATM was sitting all innocently, except that it refused to accept either of my credit cards, so I had to ask the bouncer if there was a trick I didn’t know about, at which point he came over and coolly took my card out of my hands, blew on it, flicked it, kicked the side of the ATM, and….it didn’t work.

“There’s a PNC a block down on the right,” he shrugged, giving up after 30 seconds. WOW MY HERO.

Also, every bouncer looks the same to me. Is that rude or…?

Anyway, I got my dumb money and then Henry bitched at me later because instead of walking to the PNC, I panicked and stopped at the first ATM I came across and then paid a $3.50 service fee and have you met Henry? He’s one cheap motherfucker.

My beer was waiting for me when I got back, and I found myself wondering if it was even worth the hassle of the ATM odyssey. But…anxiety. It’s the “walking in” part of going to shows alone that’s the worst. I’m OK after that, but a little alcohol never hurts.

The Rex has a very small balcony, so I took refuge up there in the shadows, sitting alone on a stool and forcing Henry to text me until the show started.

There were about 5 other people up there with me, mostly inoffensive, but I knew I was just biding my time and would eventually make my way back downstairs before Citizen.

The first two bands were local: Same and Yrs. I had never heard of Same before, and they were OK. But I’ve definitely seen Yrs on lineups of tours I’ve been interested in, yet have somehow never managed to see them. And also managed to not know they’re from Pittsburgh. They were good! Definitely a band I would seek out in the future. Someone screamed, “You have a very interesting voice!” and the singer was like, “I know.” They had good stage presence and kept me from being bored, which sometimes happens when I’m just like, waiting and waiting to see the band I came to see.

Shortly after Yrs ended their set, I gifted my seat to the boyfriend of the girl sitting next to me, because I had spotted the perfect spot near the stage and I didn’t want to risk waiting any longer. Dizzy Pleasure Club started playing right as I made it downstairs, and I quickly slipped into a spot along the right side of the of the stage, where not a single motherfucker bothered me for the whole rest of the night.

I had to pee so bad but didn’t want to lose my spot. Looking at this picture makes me feel like I have to pee again.

Dizzy Pleasure Club was a last minute addition to the line-up. They’re from Baltimore and are made up of various members from Turnstile and Angel Du$t, so I was interested. This was only their 3rd show but you would never know it!

After the first song, the singer deadpanned, “We’re going to play 4 more songs for you….because we only have five songs.”  Ugh, it felt good to laugh with a bunch of strangers. EVEN THOUGH I HATE PEOPLE. I confuse myself sometimes.

Anyway, I was really into DPC.

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AND THEN FINALLY CITIZEN. They make me feel like I’m 17 again, full of energy and hope, and I wish I could wakeup every morning to them playing The Night I Drove Alone at the foot of my bed because that song makes me want to throw myself against the wall.

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This was the 4th time I saw them this year: headlining show at Altar Bar, Bled Fest in Michigan, and then Riot Fest in Chicago. But this night topped them all. It was the closest I’ve ever been able to get to the stage for them, and the crowd was just amazingly perfect — MY PEOPLE. It never seems to matter that I’m there alone once the band starts playing, because we’re all friends at that point. We’re all there to scream along to a band whose lyrics cut us to the core, remind us that we’re alive, make us feel like we’re all a part of something bigger. It’s easy to forget what that feels like when you’re sitting at a desk in a sterile office all week, or getting ready to declare on your psycho neighbor, or being degraded online by people who don’t share the same social views are you. All these things build up and you start to build those walls around yourself like you’re fucking Mexico and then suddenly you go to a show and your band starts to play and it’s like…FREE AT LAST.

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

I’m always hoping that one day I’ll either coerce a friend to like a band that I like, or maybe actually MAKE A FRIEND at a show, but at the end of the night, it doesn’t matter. Because for those 2-3 hours, no one in that room is a stranger. We’re all on the same side and it’s fucking amazing. I hate when it ends.

I love you, Citizen. You ruined my left contact from all the tears you produced, but it was worth it. <3

Eventually, this high will wear off, and then I’ll just have to wait for the next show to breathe life into me again.

The asshole neighbors are still next door, and while things have (mostly) simmered down (knock on the wood of their severely damaged and beaten front door), there have been some new developments.

Since Henry talked to the landlord, it’s been mostly quiet over there. In fact, we started to think that Boots is living there alone now, like maybe the landlord was all, “Yo, I never said your strung out sex doll can shack up with you, get her out of there.” While Boots drives me nuts with the slamming and the stomping, it’s admittedly Phyllis’s gross smoker’s voice and hearing her scream lazily at him that really makes me feel psychotic.

So Tuesday through Thursday, we heard very minimal noise. An occasional opening and shutting of the front door, but NO SLAMMING. To the point where I was sure it was another person who was there, not Boots. Regular footsteps replaced the cinderblock-stomping on the stairs. I was able to sleep through the night! It was a fucking dream!

I was off on Friday. I heard movement next door, what sounded like the opening and shutting of cabinets in the kitchen, quiet sane-sounding voices. Maybe the landlord was there inspecting? Who could tell without x-ray glasses. But then I heard a dog barking. I looked outside and saw Boots on the porch with a Jack Russell and thought, “OH GOD IF HE HAS A DOG NOW, THEN SHIT’S GETTING REAL” and then I noticed, parked across the street, A U-HAUL. Nooooooo! My greatest fear realized! Boots was legit moving in! That dog probably had the house address engraved on its tag!

Thankfully, from my Concerned Neighbor Watch Post at my bedroom window, I determined that Boots was actually helping Chooch’s nemesis Larry move junk out of Larry’s house. The one thing I saw looked like an old furnace. I’m not sure how this matters to the story, but there it is. Larry eventually drove off in the U-Haul, and then a few minutes later, I saw Boots running down the street with the dog under his arm!?

I heard the dog barking again later, don’t worry. He brought it back.

I think it was actually Larry’s dog. Chooch knows everything about the neighborhood, most of all what kinds of dogs each house holds, and he verified that my description of the dog sounded like Larry’s. So I think Boots was just keeping Larry’s dog in his house so it wouldn’t run away while they had Larry’s door open? I DON’T KNOW, YOU GUYS, BUT THIS IS HOW I SPENT AN ENTIRE DAY OFF WORK. I HATE MYSELF.

Saturday, we heard Boots shuffling around, and still no sign of Phyllis. I was getting to the point where I felt that, if this was how things would stay, I could possibly accept Boots being my neighbor. Without Phyllis there provoking his temper, I wasn’t so on edge.

Still though, I worried about how things would go that night, when I had some friends over for a holiday party. Oh god, please don’t embarrass me Boots!

If anything was unraveling over there that night, I couldn’t hear over the noise in my own house. I hoped that it was annoying Boots! Sandy said that when she left my house, Boots was also leaving his house in a “creepy huff” and she was afraid he was going to abduct her and her girls, but she was at work today, so I guess Boots resisted the urge. I stayed up late that night, hanging out with Janna after my party ended, and Boots had visitors. It sounded like several men, and they were walking around and talking loudly for most of the night. One of the guys was driving a pick-up and he came and went numerous times. I turned up my radio super loud and put it against Boots’ bedroom wall and then I finally fell asleep around 2:30am. God only knows when that asshole went to bed.

Sunday afternoon, we realized that the window in Boots’ front door is busted out and he has a piece of cardboard taped over it. GEE I WONDER HOW THAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED HE TAKES SUCH GREAT CARE OF THAT DOOR.

Later, all was bone-chillingly quiet next door, when suddenly, Boots started murdering his front door and bellowing, “MELISSA OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!! MELISSSSSSSSAAAAAAA!!!!!” and then he would kick the door so hard it would shudder our side of the house. Henry looked at me and said, “I honestly don’t think anyone else is over there?!” And so then I started to imagine that Phyllis (Melissa) was dead in the bedroom and he was so delusional that he thought she was going to come downstairs and open the door for him.

So now I wonder if he just has a habit of keeping the front door unlocked?

Anyway, I stood up and said, “OH FUCK NO, I’VE HAD IT” and Henry was all, “OMG PLEASE DON’T DO SOMETHING STUPID” but I was already whipping open my front door angrily. This man is not going to be satisfied until he splits his door in half.

Boots stopped pounding on his door and drug-drawled, “It’s just me, babe, sorry. Don’t tell [the landlord].” I gave him a death glare and made a disgusted noise, then came back in the house with a succinct slam of my door to punctuate the encounter.

HE CALLED ME BABE. Where’s the sewing kit, my vagina’s getting stitched up.

Henry heard him say “don’t tell [the landlord]” and we started cracking up, because clearly the landlord did talk to him and must have given him a warning. While we were laughing, Boots had entered the house through the basement and had begun his rage-stomp through the house, screaming his face off for Phyllis, who never answered him because she’s dead or something.

Later that evening, some man came to his house twice in search of him. He was knocking like a normal person, though he was calling Boots’ name relatively loudly. He left and came back later in search of Boots and I was like, “HE IS CLEARLY NOT HOME GO FUCK YOURSELF ASSHOLE” and Henry was all, “He’s not even doing anything — GET BACK IN THE HOUSE!” because by that point, I was throwing open my door like a wild woman looking for a fight. BOOTS IS RUINING MY LIFE.

I was home again from work om Monday but nothing much went on. I don’t think Boots even woke up until around 11 because I didn’t start hearing his footsteps until then. This is my life now. I am so fucking tuned in to every tiny movement on the other side of the wall.

I got home last night from seeing Citizen (<3) around 10:00 and while Henry was taking out the garbage, I saw a tall man walking through the yard to meet Boots, who was standing on his porch in shorts. The man seemed normal, and I think it was possibly the same man who was looking for him Sunday night. They went inside and had normal-volume conversations, which I could hear only because I muted everything SO I COULD HEAR. Now Henry thinks that maybe it’s his parole officer, because this is what we do in our spare time, sit around in our mismatched PJs, passing judgment and making crude character assessments of those on lower social rungs. (There are not many rungs lower than ours, so let us have our moment to feel better about ourselves, OK??)

Anyway, I know you were al worried but Phyllis apparently isn’t dead because I heard her fucking gross voice last night when I was trying to go to bed. I decided that I hate Phyllis more than Boots. I think I want to fight her.

The best part of my update is that while I was at work today, Henry said he was walking down the street to get Chooch who was at his friend Jaden’s house. He walked past Larry, who stopped him and said, “Hey, please don’t associate me with him,” and pointed to Boots’ house. “I’m trying to get rid of him.” If anyone knows Boots, it’s Larry, because they used to work together. So…sorry Chooch, but Larry is now our BFF and we must join forces to rid our street of Boots. I wish I had been there when this happened because I would have started asking Larry questions about Boots but dumb Henry was just like “Oh OK” and kept walking.

I need a new partner in my neighbor-spying game. Henry sucks.

A lot of the stuff in my house looks like junk. Like the random rock on my mantel, or the 16-year-old orange Starburst in my freezer (it’s survived two fridge upgrades!

), the $2 Last Supper portrait in my bathroom, or the tiny stuffed hippo on top of my bedroom dresser. There’s my Christmas tree topper that I cut from a flimsy baking tin that everyone always tells me I should throw away, and the tiny bottle of teeth in my curio.

But there’s a story behind everything. And that’s why I keep things that Henry would prefer I threw out, put back outside, burned, or buried.

There’s one random thing that looks almost too normal and basic to be in here, a bluebird tea light that guides the way to the bathroom when I have parties.

The kind of object that no one would be able to imagine me walking into a store and purchasing with my own cash money. When I was putting a candle in it on Saturday, I started to laugh to myself because it’s a tangible souvenir from the time I was invited to a Mormon women’s dinner at their church in Greentree, back when I was taking a creative non-fiction writing class at Pitt and had to choose a stranger to interview for an assignment.

I picked the Mormon missionary who had swung by my house once on a solicitation basis, in her long, stiff wool skirt.

This one dumb ceramic bird is a symbol of extreme emotional discomfort, pushing myself out of my comfort zone* in order to write something completely different for me, back when I used to actually care about my writing and didn’t just blog from the WordPress app on my phone, crossing my fingers that the typos would be minimal, but also not giving enough shits to go back and proofread. My Pitt writing professors would be so fucking proud to see me now. #washedup

*(Back then, anything that involved me leaving the house was me “pushing myself out of my comfort zone.”)

Every once in a while, I catch of glimpse of this damn bird, and I feel really proud that I opened myself up to that strange experience, that instead of hiding from someone going door-to-door in a Jesus skirt, I sought her out and tried to understand why she does missionary work, and my reward for that was this blue bird…and an A on my paper. Duh. It also makes me think of how much has changed since then, when I was going to college to become someone that everyone said I should be, not who I wanted to be.

One stupid little candle holder, but so much sentimental value!

DEEP THOUGHTS FOR A MONDAY.