It goes without saying, but I am thankful everyday for these two guys: my baes, my ride-or-dies, my boo-thanks, my–*barf*. You get the picture.

Today more than ever though I’m reminded of how much they’ve made my life better. When you draw a shitty hand in the game of Family, make your own. Even though we might not be doing a traditional Thanksgiving dinner thing today, at least I don’t have to spend it alone.

Also, we’re watching the Gilmore Girls marathon on Up (some Christian channel that beeps out “damn” and “hell”) and it’s the episode where Lorelei is receiving mixed reactions to marrying Christopher because everyone in Stars Hollow is like “but….

Luke” and I said to Henry, “I feel like that’s what would happen to me if we broke up and I married someone else; everyone would revolt and hate me and my new husband.” And I shouldn’t have said that because now Henry is gloating.

Also pt. 2: Henry painted the wall above our fireplace mantel pink in preparation for finally hanging my Mouse Attack light!

Except that there is an issue with mounting it because there are bricks behind the plaster and other things I tuned out, and also now my friend Wonka is going to help us figure out how to get the lights to work because Henry only knows how to do electrical thing, not electronic, and evidently there is a difference.

I love Thanksgiving house makeovers!

The Mouse Attack sign:

Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving. Or, as I call it, Happy “Google search for restaurants that are open on Thanksgiving” Day!

As someone who is very into haunted houses and has been keeping haunted house journals since 1995 (!!!), it was a no-brainer that I needed this tattoo when Erin from Kyklops posted her original painting of it on Instagram.

I just got it today after work and I am so smitten with it! It’s on my upper back and it’s been a long time since I got tattooed on my back so that was a nice eye-opener. (And thumb-biter.)

It took Henry fifteen minutes in three different rooms with 726397 different variations of lighting to try to take a picture, and none of them were right. So then Chooch took over and got it done in two tries because Chooch is the best. (Just ignore the fact that part of the left side is cut off and my hair is in it. I take what I can get around here.)

Anyway, now I’m stoked for next October! 

Thanks for another supremely magnificent tatttoo, Erin! And I only almost passed out once! 

Shit, it’s been a hot minute since we went roller skating, thanks to my pernicious moods and “unrealistic” rink standards (according to Henry). But Chooch got invited to a birthday party at our old skate headquarters and even though it was taken over by lame-o Christians, I sucked it up and stuck around to skate it out. Sometimes you just gotta take the high road.

SO THEY SAY.

Roller DJ isn’t even there anymore. :(

Anyway, parents got to skate for free, courtesy of the birthday boy, so that made it even better – now I didn’t have to get the rink my own money! Henry claims his “foot hurt” so he opted out and I know that he wanted to just drop us off and go and run errands or whatever you call that stuff that grown-ups do but I was like “YOU CANNOT LEAVE ME HERE WHAT IF A PARENT TALKS TO ME.”

So he stayed and guess what? No parents talked to me! I must have a certain look or something. Or maybe it was just because they were so intimidated by how badass I am on skates.

(LOL, I was actually super shaky because it’s been a year since I skated last, almost!)

Henry was really opposite-of-stoked when the DJ spun “Man in the Mirror” and he couldn’t swirl around on skates to the inspirational lyrics. 

Meanwhile, Chooch’s “nemesis” was in attendance (they love/hate each other) and she really can’t skate. She had to snail along the rink behind one of those training triangles (aka a walker with wheels) and Henry was like, “Wow, finally something that Chooch can do better than her.” And then, “I feel bad for her.”

“Pfft! I don’t! Let her suck at something for once!” I spat. 

Henry frowned. This is why kids can’t come over to Chooch’s house. 

Riley reppin’ Riot Fest at the roller rink. 

I wanted Chooch to skate over to the lame ass DJ and dare him to play a single band listed on the back of his Riot Fest shirt. 

But instead, Chooch did something better! He requested CALL ME MAYBE! How do I have the best son in the world?! Oh yeah, because I’m the best, too! Henry was in mid-sentence when that candy-coated pop sensation started playing and I screamed “GIRL BYE” as I glided away from him like a motherfucking swan on quads. 

Henry’s used to not being able to finish his sentences though. Sometimes when we’re on the phone, I just hang up without a word when I’ve heard enough. 

The fact that there is a huge, universal pox upon 2016 was not lost on me and I had concerns that I was tempting fate by the mere act of even lacing up my skates. If ever I was going to break a limb on the rink, this could be the day. But I made it, even with all the little wheeled-terrorists out there, skating against traffic, causing bottle-necks and pile-ups, looking at their phones — I could have perished out there, but I made it out unscathed. 

I was lucky though because someone dropped their idiot locker key on the rink and I happened to see it before tripping over it and cracking my skull open. The last time I went skating, I tripped over CANDY and when I tried to tell someone about it, they made me feel like a LIAR because the evidence was supposedly GONE. Yeah, probably because it was all ground up under my skate! 

Anyway, I flagged down one of the apathetic skate guards and told him to go pick up the key. 

Literally. I was like “You have to pick it up. I’m not picking it up lol.” Because I’m too afraid to stop in the middle of the rink with all those amateurs out there! It’s like stopping in the middle of a highway. 

Anyway, the whole point of this post is to say that I have been in a huge funk and have also been feeling extremely combative on top of that. The night before this was incredibly poor, I was in a sour mood and feeling absolutely belligerent, and I had some fears that being among dummies at the skating rink would do more harm than anything good, but it turned out to be just the opposite. I had a lovely time pretending to grind my opposition and oppressors beneath the wheels of my skates to the tune of Ke$ha’s “Tic Toc” and instead of raging when Meghan Trainor came on (TWICE!), I simply exited the rink and sat on the bench in silent protest of shitty music. 

I still don’t like what that rink has become, but options are few and far between these days so I guess it’s either deal with it or skate down an abandoned street during the zombie apocalypse a la Carl and Enid. 

*****

“Wasn’t I so well-behaved?” I asked Henry before we left, and he just frowned at  me because I guess “being well-behaved” is expected and not something we should stop the earth from spinning in order to celebrate on the few occasions I do it. Whatevelyn.

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Today was the first day of the school year that truly required a winter jacket and not the casual windbreaker Chooch has been skating by in (when he even wears a jacket at all). 

I gave myself a mom-pat for remembering to fish out his puffy winter coat before he left this morning. That entailed yanking every last article of outerwear and old purses from the closet. 

Purses I don’t even remember buying. Coats that I never wore last year because they were hidden behind purses I regret buying. So I’m tossing all this shit over my head with wild, careless abandon, like someone would do in a cartoon except this is real life and I haven’t grown up yet and was that a torn bag of Henry’s forgotten dreams and broken balls I just tossed?

Chooch was waiting behind me with a look on his face that said, “Oh god, please don’t get one of your weird ideas and send me to school wrapped in garbage bags set alight, I swear it’s not that cold. Here, I’ll just double up on the layers.”

Flaming garbage bags might be a bit extreme, but what if I MICROWAVED them for warmth?! WE DO WHAT WE HAVE TO DO TO KEEP THE COUNTY AGENCIES AT BAY, SON. 

Anyway, you can exhale now because I finally found one of his old red puffy coats in the back of the closet, entangled in an octopus of Erin’s Impulse Buys. 

“Here, put  this on,” I panted, worn out from all the last minute mothering. I began kicking and punching things back into the closet (but not everything because I wanted to leave some shit strewn about for Henry to put away because why should I have to do it all); when I turned around, I found Chooch standing like a scarecrow, completely stuffed into what turned out to be his coat from first grade. The arms stopped at his elbows and he looked like he was doing a juvenile impersonation of Fat Man in a Tiny Jacket. The look on his face was one of sadness and also disappointment in his mom’s lack of maternal savvy.

But then my eyes floated over his shoulder and I saw, laid out like a dead man’s suit, his actual puffy jacket! Henry had beat us to the punch and plucked the coat out of the closet for us, draping it over the wheelchair like a beautiful yet smug YOU’RE WELCOME, clearly anticipating either a hysterical phone call from me or one later from the school social worker. 

Chooch sighed in relief, peeled the tiny coat from his husky 10-year-old frame, and easily shrugged into the proper coat. I even made sure he had a hat and gloves! (The gloves didn’t match but when do they ever?!)

Thank god Chooch has two moms. 

*******

At least I didn’t let him go to school the way he tried to leave the house on Saturday, in shorts, no shoes, and an unbuttoned shirt:

I had been tossing around the idea of attending this year’s Four Chord festival because I can always use a good music festival in my life, but I was mostly interested in seeing all of the smaller bands. I don’t know why, but somehow in the last 10 years, Mayday Parade has not managed to charm me, so I knew for sure if I went, I wouldn’t be staying for the whole thing.

But then my work friend Debby came over to my desk one day last month and was all, “Hey, you know how mu niece is dating that guy in that band? Well, they’re playing—-”

“Four Chord Music Festival!” I enthusiastically blurted, because as soon as someone broaches the topic of music, I go from nodding off to be super-caffeinated/high-alert/auctioneer-voiced.

Long story short, Debby said that she would ask him if he could get me tickets, because she lets the band crash at her house when they’re in town. And he said yes! And Henry said, “That’s great but I’m not going!” but man, even though I would have to go alone, this was something I needed in my life right then, you know? Alone time with music. It was going to be fine.

I wasn’t sure if Debby was going to give me physical tickets, or if this was going to be a name on the list type of thing, but then she went on vacation before everything was ironed out and I was low-key panicking. But then the day before the show, she got my number from a co-worker and said that everything was OK, just go to will-call and I’d be fine.

So last Sunday, on the way to Chooch’s piano lesson, Henry dropped me off at Xtaza. Henry’s kind of like a soccer mom these days, you know? Dropping me and Chooch off here and there and then getting to spend his child-free time at the grocery store.

So, I get to the window. Doors opened about 30 minutes prior to my arrival, so there wasn’t a huge line. Just a few people behind me. A few people behind me who got to hear me TOTALLY GET SHOT DOWN.

The ticket guy was so smirk-y about it too. “Nope,” he said, flipping through the list. “No Erin Kelly.”

I just quickly said, “OHOKTHX” and then dipped on out. 2016 has taken away every last bit of fight I had left in me, so I wasn’t even about to try and argue or even smooth talk my way in.

Instead, I texted Debby that there were no tickets for me, and then sat on a loading dock, trying not to cry. This was the worst scenario for someone like me: I’m a nervous wreck about EVERYTHING plus I was there ALONE and now I just looked like some washed-up groupie who thought she was entitled to free entry.

I was preparing to just pay my way in when Debby replied to me and said that she texted her niece’s boyfriend and he said that my name should have been on the list and that he was going to talk to the promoter, and told her to tell me to stay there, that they were on their way.

So I continued to sulk outside of Xtaza, while all of these people walked by on their way to Four Chord and I was so sad because they were all there with friends and not LONERS LIKE ME.

Anyway, Debby advised me to try again in a few minutes, so I waited for TWENTY minutes because I was so nervous that it was going to happen again and I didn’t want to be that asshole! The ticket guy sighed when he saw me, because he knew that my name was now on the list. There was another guy there with him this time, possibly the promoter, who laughed and said, “Pays to be persistent!” as the ticket guy grudgingly scratched out my name and mumbled about getting a wristband at the door.

KTHXBYEEEEE.

God, that felt satisfying!

It was 1:00PM at this point, and I had missed the first band, but whatever. I needed time to gather my bearings since I hadn’t been to this club probably since 2008, when it was Club Zoo. Henry and I used to go to a ton of shows there back when it was Metropol, especially back before Mr. Small’s was around to provide a much better show experience. Xtaza is just way too nightclubby for my liking. It’s hard to get a good spot, the balcony is VIP now (it used to just be 21+ back when it was Metropol) and it’s fucking cold as shit in there. I kept my jacket zipped all the way up to my chin and I was still shivering.

The place was still pretty empty when I got there, since it was so early and most people probably were only interested in the main, national acts that were playing after 6pm. It went straight to the bar because my nerves are sometimes popping off when I’m alone at a show, and I was having a hard time adjusting to the darkness of the venue and couldn’t shake the disorientation I was feeling. But, even just ordering something at the bar proved to be a challenge for my high-anxiety self. I didn’t want liquor and I couldn’t see what beers they had, so I panicked and ordered a YUENGLING because that’s what the guy next to me had and I DON’T LIKE THAT KIND OF BEER. So then I went and stood by the railing and had to discreetly hold my nose while I took large sips because I just wanted it to be over.

This is what I was doing while Smile My Dear was playing on the main stage. They were OK! Nice, local pop punk. I was feeling it.

I was thankful that the transition from main stage to second stage was smooth and painless. You basically just turned around and walked a few feet and then you were at the smaller stage set up by the entrance. And there was only about 5 minutes in between each band, which was a blessing because it meant less downtime for me to stand around awkwardly looking like I was lost and maybe crying.

The first band I saw on the second stage was Check Engine Light from Long Island and I loved them lots like tater tots! I started excitedly texting Henry about them and he was like “Ok.”

It was during their set when I started to calm down a bit and just really let the music do its thing. I was determined to make the most of my day alone, to not let anyone ruin the vibe, and to keep an open mind with every band there (ugh even the two ska bands which I did not like but I won’t say that they SUCKED because I just really don’t like ska so my opinion is biased).

Immediately following Check Engine Light was In Your Memory and I was heart-eyes right from the start. They reminded me a bit of Nonpoint and letlive. and I giddily sent Henry a video.

“Who’s that” was his response and I don’t know why he bothers to ask because HE TRULY DOES NOT CARE.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BNAUyB1DGG2/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

Skashank Redemption was up next on the second stage and I will admit that I did not move from my spot because I JUST DON’T LIKE SKA. I can’t really put my finger on it but I think it’s just that it’s too happy and trumpet-y? I don’t know. The Jamaica Ska scene in Back to the Beach is THE ONLY PART OF BACK TO THE BEACH I DON’T LIKE.

So no, I don’t endorse this band.

But the next band to play on the main stage won my heart: Look Out Loretta from Jeanette PA. I was already looking forward to seeing them based on their band name, which is something that Mike Lange uses after a Penguins goal  FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO AREN’T PENS FANS, BOO.

<iframe style=”border: 0; width: 100%; height: 120px;” src=”https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/track=4199829923/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=0687f5/tracklist=false/artwork=small/transparent=true/” seamless>WKND GTWY by Look Out Loretta

I really liked these guys a lot, a lot, a lot! Which is weird because I don’t like the any of the bands listed on their Bandcamp under the “for fans of” section, lol. You just never know with me. It depends on my mood.

After them was Worst Kept Secret from West Virginia. They were metal and I enjoyed it but I know that Henry would have hated them. I need metal in my life here and there, you know?

I was really looking forward to Modern Chemistry because we saw them at Riot Fest in 2015 and I vaguely remember liking them but also I think we were eating good donuts during their set too so I could be projecting my donut euphoria on their music? The Four Chord program said they sound like Circa Survive, and I for sure would have remembered if they sounded like Circa Survive.

As soon as they started playing, I was able to confirm that no, they don’t sound like Circa Survive. But I did like them a lot! They were very pleasing alt-rock and I wish they had gotten a longer set time, but it was still enough to leave a memorable impression on my dumb brain.

However, I listened to them on Spotify the next day and it didn’t resonate as much with me as it did live.

Here’s a sampling of Look Out Loretta and Modern Chemistry, which you would know if you just read the caption of the Instavid, but here I am doing the work for you:

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Head Injuries was next on the small stage but I wasn’t feeling them so I went back over to where I was standing by the main stage, and that’s when I realized that this was like the third time that day that I kept accidentally standing next to someone’s dad, like I was subconsciously missing Henry or something.

Patent Pending was next and this was another band that, on paper, I should not have liked at all because they were PURE POP ROCK. I realize that I was at a festival that specialized in pop rock, but I am pretty picky with that genre. I tend to lean more toward the serious pop punk bands….or maybe that’s not the best way to explain it. Maybe I should say that it’s the joke-y pop punk bands I don’t like. I enjoy The Wonder Years, State Champs, Real Friends….bands of that ilk. I’m probably speaking an alien language to you right now, but together, we can get through this dirty toilet bowl of a blog post. We’re almost there!

This was the first time, four hours in almost, that a band spoke up about the election. The singer was basically like, “I want to believe that we’re all on the same side here, and none of you look like douchebags, so….” Political stance aside, these guys were incredibly entertaining and I did all the things they told us to do and if you know me at all, you know that I won’t go through the motions of jumping or doing jazz hands unless I’m a true fan of the band telling me to do these things because I’m 37 fucking years old and sometimes a bitch just wants to lean against a railing and causally nod her head.

But yeah, they had me doing all the things because their energy was infectious. INFECTIOUS. And then they had a song about not putting off your dreams any longer and I was like THIS IS A SIGN and I felt so inspired and stoked and once again grateful for Debby getting me into this damn thing.

Whoever would thought I would like a band that sings about Mario and douchebags. This band was A+, would see again. They were so much fun!

Finally though, it was time for Let It Happen! I was really excited to see them because anytime there is any connection like this one with Debby and her niece, I get so interested.

I have to say that out of all the bands who had previously played that day, Let It Happen was the most fashonable. This was my first impression. My second impression was that they are really funny and have good banter. My third impression was that they are LEGIT! How are they not more well-known?! According to their bio, they’ve been around since 2009 but I never heard of them until last year when Wendy was all, “Haha, some band is staying at Debby’s house, you have to ask her about it!” and it turns out they were actually playing a Hit the Lights show that night that I hade been considering going to because Tiny Moving Parts were also playing and I love Tiny Moving Parts and am I losing you again?

SORRY, I GET ALL TANGENTICAL.

But guys, I urge you to listen to Let It Happen!

They’re from Cincinnati and said that Pittsburgh is prettier, so LOL Christina.

They had some very die-hard fans in the crowd, so that was fun to watch. I would for sure go see them again, and now I’m kicking myself for not going to the Speak Low If You Speak Love show they played at last month at Smiling Moose, because that would have been a beautiful venue to see them at. I love Smiling Moose. I do not love Xtaza. Xtaza is cold.

They were totally worth enduring a day alone among strangers.

Eternal Boy was next and it was big deal because the singer—Rishi—is the guy who organized Four Chord. Eternal Boy used to be the Space Pimps which is a band that pretty much anyone who was even remotely a part of the local Pittsburgh scene over the last decade should have least heard of. And again, another band that I might have been quick to dismiss if there was an option to see a different band on another stage, but I’m REALLY GLAD there wasn’t because they were great. Rishi at one point was like, “I have a mic and you don’t” and went on to voice his disdain for the current state of things, and then dedicated the next song to minorities, LGBTQ, women, and anyone who feels at risk, and then apologized on behalf of this idiotic country, at which point I lost my shit and just sobbed like a baby because I’m a woman and probably about to be on my period.

Right guys?

Any band whose tag line is “music for the nostalgic and broken-hearted” is right up my alley.

Keep Flying was the last band to play on the small stage and they were mildly ska-ish but I tried! Oh lord, did I try. I also tried to buy a fucking Four Chord shirt but the credit card thing wasn’t working by then so it was cash only and HENRY ONLY GAVE ME $15. And that was just because there was supposedly a food truck outside just for Four Chord but then there was no re-entry, so…..?

By this point it was after 6. I watched a little bit of Hawthorne Heights for old time’s sake but shit, I was so cold that I was actually shivering and standing with my hands tucked under my armpits like I was some kind of bro, and I was beginning to get dizzy because I was hungry and I can’t even just be hungry without a side of MAJOR DRAMA AND THEATRICS. So Henry and Chooch came and got me and we went to Eat n Park where I ordered the salad bar and ate with my jacket on because I COULD NOT WARM UP.

I had so much adrenaline coursing through me for the next several hours, as I excitedly recounted to Henry and Chooch all of the bands I saw that day, but then 9:00 rolled around and I was so exhausted that I couldn’t even watch The Walking Dead.

What a great day. <3

I’ve been avoiding bullet pointing on here because the format always gets wonky and words smoosh together after I hit publish, but bulleting just feels right tonight. My brain’s got nothing more to give than thought blurbs. So let’s do this together. I’ll type and then you read. That’s the only way this relationship is going to work.

• Adele’s “Send My Love” was on when I got in the car on Sunday. Henry admitted that he could never figure out what she says during the chorus. “Right……here!” Henry cried when the part in question came on. “You mean, ‘Send my love to your new lover? Treat her better?'” Chooch and I pretty much answered in sync. “Oh….I though it was “Send my love to your new left hand bag.” God, Henry.
• There was some gross blood drive happening, which spurned a conversation between Lauren and me about needles and how awful they are. “Tattoo needles don’t bother me at all, though,” I mused. “I guess because I know afterward, I’m leaving with something I want.” “Hepatitis?” Glenn piped up at his desk behind me. I HATE WHEN HE LISTENS TO MY CONVERSATIONS UGH.
• Look, I liked Bernie too but now that everything is over I feel like I have to be honest and tell you that I hated, and I mean HATED, his campaign slogan. “Feel the Bern” does not sound pleasant or motivating to me whatsoever. I makes me think that someone has a STD and their dick has burning sensations.

• Holiday cards are in full effect! Which means Henry’s been working his ass off. Being co-owner of a greeting card company is hard work, you guys.
• Henry texted me while I was at work yesterday. His text said, “Can we talk?” and I quickly responded with, “No, Tevin. No, I can’t.” He was like, “WHO IS TEVIN*” so I let him stew on that for a bit before sighing and explaining that Tevin Campbell is an American R&B singer who had a big hit in the mid-90s with his song, a BET classic, “Can We Talk?” File this under: Shanice Likes Your Smile.
  • *Actually, Henry was using “talk to text” so what he really asked, and I’m quoting directly from my phone: “What is Kevin Log Cabin Tavern tea heaven.”
• During one of my neverending social rants to Henry, I told him that it’s not even that I’m like some crunchy hippie who wants to give the world a great big hug; in fact, I dislike pretty much all people the same. Like, just don’t talk to me when I’m standing in line for the trolley or washing my hands in a public restroom, I don’t care who you are. Unless you’re in a band. However, this doesn’t mean that I want anyone to have their rights taken from them and I have cried so much lately over HUMANS that I’m worried I’m starting to become one myself.
  • Um also, I won’t ever judge a person based on their skin color, sexuality, religion, etc, but I will judge you on your actions. So if you’re like the asshole on the trolley with me yesterday who turned his snot into a disgusting, bubbling instrument, then you can fuck right off.

• I’ll judge cole slaw with a quickness though. We went to Bob’s Diner in Castle Shannon last Saturday night and had wet cole slaw. #girlbye
• So we’re in the process of buying a new fridge but I felt that the one Henry is settling on isn’t interesting enough, so he was like “LET ME SHOW THE PRICES OF INTERESTING FRIDGES.” Ugh, get fucked Henry. GET FUCKED WITH A PLAIN DILDO.
• Chooch ran for secretary of chorus and lost to a girl who JUST JOINED CHORUS THIS YEAR when this is Chooch’s THIRD YEAR! And curiously, president and publicist went to two other girls who are like BFFs so you tell me if you think this election was RIGGED.
  • FUCK!!!!

• BRB looking at pictures of Obama and crying.
• I just now watched a live Facebook announcement from my friends Elaine and Tery – they’re eloping and I’m so happy for them! Henry saw that I commented “I’m crying!” and he said, “No you’re not—-oh. Yes, you are.” Ugh, I might be ambivalent toward people in general but man do I love it when my friends are happy. <3
• We were in the car last night and Chooch was asking annoying math questions and I was like DO YOU THINK ANYONE HAS EVER SNAPCHATTED A MURDER and Henry was just like, slowly dying at the wheel. Now you know what it is like to be in a car with us.

• We’ve been seeing so much of Blake and Haley lately and I love it, but no one loves it more than Chooch. My lord. They came over last Saturday, so Chooch got back-to-back evenings of playing games with adults.

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• I am always cold at work (they don’t call me Heartless for nothing, yo) but it was especially frigid there one day last week. SO COLD that when I got my print job off the printer, it felt so deliciously warm in my hands that I held it up to my cheek and throatily murmured, “This paper feels so nice and warm.” Glenn and Todd were like, completely disgusted by this.
• Since tonight is Light Up Night in Pittsburgh, Amber1 hung up a string of Xmas lights on her desk so I was like GOD OK FINE I’LL DECORATE TOO STOP NAGGING UGH. I used to have a little tree which I decorated with Jonny Craig ornaments but fuck Jonny Craig and fuck Xmas trees! So instead, I just laid out some voodoo Santas and my old garland of Glenns. And obviously my Jesus pen that I bought at Christ in Smokies:

• My aunt loved Bon Jovi. The fact that they released an album called This House Is Not For Sale the same year my aunt died and we lost my grandparents house because of her is not lost on me. Weird fucking coincidence.
• Speaking of family, this year has been so disgusting that I’m trying to convince Henry to just take us away for Christmas. I don’t want to see anyone. I just want to eat high quality ice cream and chill with Henry and Chooch. They are all I need.

• My mood for the last couple weeks. ^^^^ FUCK WITH ME.
• Woke up nauseous: pregnant, or Christmas music on the radio?
  • Speaking of, last week Octavia innocently asked me what my favorite Christmas song and I was like NONE!!! FUCK XMAS!!! but really that was just misguided anger because, you know, 2016. I really am not a big Christmas fan and holiday music generally does irritate me, but then this morning I heard some version of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Xmas” and so I texted her and told her that one, that’s my favorite. Because every version I’ve ever heard has made me feel sad, and y’all know this emo queen stays youthful by drinking her own tears. I have two vivid memories of this song though, and both are from elementary school:
    • one is playing this song on my old Casio keyboard in the basement over and over because I was a self-taught keyboardist which means I played with one hand and only knew like 6 songs.
    • the second is from the 1985 Days of Our Lives holiday episode when Liz sings it OH MY GOD I’M CRYING.
      • Everything always goes back to Days of Our Lives, somehow. It was a prominent aspect of my childhood.

• I’m obsessed with the Joe Biden memes just like everyone else, but when someone merged it with a common Dance Gavin Dance meme, I literally rolled off the couch, onto my knees, and raised my hands to Kevin Log Cabin Tavern tea heaven.
• Henry asked me where some restaurant is downtown and somehow didn’t know exactly where I meant when I said, “I think it’s right near where the guy with the bomb detonator sometimes stands.” 16 years in, and he still expects to get coherent answers to directional inquiries. What a dreamer.
  • Related: I asked Henry what kinds of girls he likes and he said obviously annoying ones.
  • Also related: on the way to Cleveland last week, Henry randomly tried to tell me about some bitch he had a crush on when he was in 6th grade and I was like, “THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT I’M THE ONLY ONE YOU’VE EVER HAD A CRUSH ON, BOY.”
    • BRB, casually rifling through Henry’s lefthand bag for incriminating receipts, condoms, pregnancy tests, marriage certificates.
• I see you, Craig Owens. AND I LIKE IT:

HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND. USE BIG WORDS TO CONFUSE YOUR ENEMIES BUT DON’T USE ARTIFICIAL SWEETNER, PER DR. OZ. UNLESS YOUR PUTTING THE SWEETNER IN YOUR ENEMIES’ EYES.

I revisit this Hands Like Houses song a lot, but it seems especially relevant lately. If the lyrics resonate with you, then we’re on the same team. <3

Love,

Liberal Whiner

Here is my Obligatory School Picture post! Every year, I’m ever so thankful that he smiled normally and didn’t pull that weirdo chipmunk face he loves so much. 

Fifth grade has been going much better than fourth grade (KNOCK ON WHATEVER WOODEN ANNIVERSARY GIFT I’D HAVE GOTTEN IF HENRY MARRIED ME FIVE YEARS AGO). However, it’s been the year of girls girls girls and I’m like “Can we slow down?” I mean, he doesn’t give a shit about anything other than being a brainiac and watching YouTube videos, but these girls, man! They are relentless. 

 I get Chooch’s Instagram notifications on my phone. I want to say it’s because I’m a watchful mother, but really it’s because he wanted an Instagram account years ago and didn’t have his own phone, so he used mine and we’d just swap back and forth between accounts. 

There’s this one girl who is friends with his buddy Dimajio, and it started with harmless tagging in kumbaya-type memes.  So I started looking through her shit because that’s what I do, creep on the internet, and I saw that she was flat out posting pictures with captions that professed her LOVE for Chooch, etc etc, and was even writing a story about him—nothing gross, but she didn’t know how to spell out cat Penelope’s name so if you’re ever at my house and you hear us call her Pelonpe, now you know why. 

So last night, she tagged him in some dumb meme, and then I noticed that her next picture was of herself and the caption was something like “I’m about to ask out my crush, send advice please.”

So I’m like NO OH GOD NO. She and I already exchanged words several weeks ago because my phone was blowing up while Chooch was at piano; she was sending all these messages about how other girls at her school were telling her that he’s dating THEM and one of them was like “we’re linked up like a chain” and that just sent me over the edge so I was like THIS IS HIS MOM (oh yes I went there) and he’s not dating anyone because he’s TEN, so…

And this girl was all, “if this is really his mom, you’re really pretty” because clearly I make him post pictures of us on Instagram so all his lame friends can see how awesome RILEY’S MOM is. #vanity

So then I was like, “AW OMG HENRY LOOK” and Henry was all “STAY FOCUSED.”

Good advice, Hank. 

So Chooch gets a message request from some sock puppet account that’s supposed to be Dimajio or something, but hello GIRL I see you:

I had to call Chooch over and he was like tell her I like [girl at his school] but I didn’t want to turn this into An Ordeal and then the next thing you know, she’s assaulting Chooch’s actual crush with a sockful of Chuck E Cheese tokens. 

Then a message comes from Girl’s actual account:

I was like, “Chooch get your ass over here and deal with this shit” and he said “Nah, I’m good.”

#%^*+!?!*%#

So then I was like “WELL TELL ME WHAT TO SAY” and Chooch was like TELL HER ALL OF THESE DISPARAGING THINGS and I couldn’t do that!! So I went with my gut and said “I like you as a friend. I don’t want a gf.”

And she was all “I thought you hated me??? You’re always so mean to me when you’re around Dimajio” and I was like, “Chooch! Is this true?!”

“Well, she’s pretty annoying, so…”

Ugh! So then I had to have a refresher course on how he needs to be nice to girls, even the annoying ones, for gods sake. 

I thought it was over, but today when I was at work, she asked him out AGAIN! This time she phrased it differently just in case that made a difference. 

My work friends were ON THE EDGES OF THEIR SEATS as the saga continued. 

So I had to tell her again that I, I mean Chooch, wasn’t interested in her in that way, sorry. I made sure that I didn’t word it in a way that would give her hope and I definitely didn’t use a sad face or anything because Chooch would never try to sugarcoat these things. 

She said she “understands,” and I hope that her understanding doesn’t expire after 24 hours again and that she’s not planning on breaking into our house and boiling Pelonpe. 

Really living it up on my day off. First, some engaging Dr Oz programming about artificial sweetener and now the View?! Life is rich.

See also: Judy’s here.

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

Long before I knew I was going to Cleveland last Thursday, I had requested off work for the following Friday because it was Veteran’s Day and Chooch didn’t have school. I figured by doing this, we wouldn’t have to worry about getting Henry’s mom Judy to babysit.

But then we ended up going to Cleveland the night before, so we had to ask Judy to babysit for us anyway. The plan was to take her home once we got back that night, but the show turned out to be a late one and we didn’t get back until after 2:30. And since we’re a one-car fam (how vintage of us), that meant I wouldn’t have a way to take Judy home in the morning.

So basically what I’m trying to say here is that Judy wound up having to babysit Chooch and me on Friday.

And it was brutal.

Penelope shared the same stunned visage all day.

Don’t get me wrong – I really like Henry’s mom a lot! She is really super awesome. But you guys, the daytime TV. Judy and talk shows are like a package deal.

First thing in the morning, Chooch and I went for a walk to CVS because I needed saline solution. I mean, it could have waited, but you know. Chooch treated me with a political rant the whole way there. It really got me fired up. If we had the car, maybe we’d have gone to find a protest. :(

I told Chooch we were going to get ice cream later with Chris and Monica and he cheered so hard it gave me a jolt.

“It’s funny how most of your friends are adults,” I said.

“Yeah,” Chooch replied. “And it’s funny how most of your friends are ghosts.”

I don’t even know what that means?!

Came back home and hung out with Judy. We drank coffee and talked about AMERICA and then she went back to Dr. Oz while I looked at pictures of Balance and Composure on my phone and sent Henry a series of 911 texts.

9:08AM marked my first “When will you be home?” text of the day.

And then 11:33AM, while those loud broads from The View were caterwauling through my living room, it was “Are you almost done?”

I made it through Dr. Oz, but this was just too much.

So I went for my second walk of the day.

PICTURE FROM MY WALK. I was gone for an hour.

Access Hollywood was on when I came back. This was how I learned that Cameron Diaz married Benji Madden last year?! HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS?! Oh yeah, because my death row pen pal didn’t renew my Us Weekly subscription, ugh.

1:36pm: “Did you leave yet?”

No response, so I suggested that, “HEY CHOOCH LET’S CLEAN YOUR ROOOOOM!”

We busted our asses, you guys! I even cleaned parts of my room too! I hung up clothes!

To sweeten the pot, I suggested that Chooch pick which record to listen to while cleaning. He chose Panic! at the Disco, and when the record ended, he wanted to listen to it again. I wanted to listen to either Balance & Composure or Phil Collins, so we COMPROMISED and are now listening to the latest Dance Gavin Dance record.

I think this is what you people would call GROWING UP.

It was a UUUUGE moment.

This picture has been in Chooch’s room since 2006 and serves as a beautiful memory of that time Henry gave himself a haircut and I dubbed him Forest.

This corner of his room wasn’t even messy, but he somehow forgot that it existed and became super interested in putting the “butt” in “butterfly” chair and grabbed a book to read.

2:06pm: “Are you done yet?”

Eventually, there was nothing left to clean (LOL there’s always something to clean but Chooch and I have our own version of cleaning in which we stop quarter of the way in), so we went back downstairs just in time for like Dr. Phil or something, why are there so many doctors on daytime TV!?

2:35pm: “Hurry.”

Chooch wanted to go outside, but, out of desperation to keep him there with me, I shouted, “IT’S RAINING!”

So he stuck his head out of the door and said, “It’s not raining, you liar!”

I understood his tone and knew he was just being playful, but Judy flipped her shit and started yelling at him for talking to his mother that way and I was like GET ME OUT OF HERE.

2:49pm: “OMG they’re fighting pleaaaaaaaase HURRY. PLEASE.”

And that little son of a bitch LEFT ME and went outside, while Judy was still bitching about how kids have no respect anymore?!

2:55pm: “She just called Sara Gilbert a ‘he.'”

After Judy quieted down, I was just getting ready to numb my intelligence enough to be able to sit through Dr. Phil because I figured a third neighborhood stroll might come off as RUDE, when Judy realized that today’s program was about kids and heroin, so she said, “Oh, I can’t watch this shit, put on channel 8.”

So I turned the channel and it was STEVE HARVEY. Do you even know who much I can’t fucking stand that guy?!

When Henry came home an hour later, he found me laying on my sort of, partially-made bed, staring at the ceiling and he started laughing, which I didn’t appreciate.

The worst part was that my dumb work friends were telling me all the exciting things I was missing that day, like the toilets flushing with brown water and a Veteran’s Day parade going down the street by our building!! UGH.

Things I learned about Judy that day: She thinks Alicia Keys is so pretty no matter she wears and sometimes she watches the Voice just to see her (“I don’t listen to her music though,” she mumbled under her breath, followed by a “pffft”), she thinks Mariah Carey is a bitch, and she’d like to punch Angelina Jolie in the face. AMEN ON THAT LAST POINT, JUDE.

********

“My mom said you went on ‘a couple of walks’ today,” Henry laughed when he came back from taking Judy home. STFU, Henry.

What better way to decompress after a long week than by ice creammiserating with friends? (I JUST MADE THAT UP. THANKS, FOUR CUPS OF COFFEE.) I know that Chris and Monica were a little concerned walking the streets of Brookline in this hostile political climate, but I assured them that we would be fine because my White Herero Henry* was going to be with us. No one would fuck with us while we were beneath his canopy of privilege.

And also in his shadow.

*(I’ve been singing this in a vaudevillian manner with jazz hands and Henry is not a fan.)

We made it all the way to Scoops without incident, unless you count Chris and Monica endlessly heckling me for wearing wedges. Guys, they’re comfortable OK? I wasn’t trying to be fancy — they’re TOMS!

Chooch and I ordered almost immediately. He got one scoop of Boring and one scoop of Ordinary, and I got a scoop each of That’s So 2012 and Basic White Girl, aka Red Velvet and Pumpkin Pie.

Henry joined us at a table a few minutes later, leaving Chris and Monica alone at the counter. But I mean, you can’t get much safer and friendlier than an ice cream shop, right? WRONG.

While Chris and Monica were still weighing their sundae options, the bell over the door jingled and in walked your typical middle-aged Brookline creep. I knew he was a creep by the way our .0003  second eye contact signaled for my Fairy Godmother to flutter down from the rafters and add some dentata to my vagina.

Brookline Sleaze turned his objectifying gaze back where it belonged—on the case of ice cream. Sorry, ice cream.

I went back to pounding my cone into my mouth like it was sugary misogyny meeting its long-overdue demise, until I became acutely aware that Brookline Sleaze and Monica were now exchanging words. At first glance, it seemed casual, like maybe he was suggesting she put a wig of Steelers-colored sprinkles on her sundae, or inviting her to go huff some empty whipped cream cans with him out by the Brookline cannon. YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO YOU IN MY HOOD.

Then I heard Monica say something to him a strained, terse tone. I could now see that this wasn’t a friendly conversation after all, that this man was clearly offending her, and I started to pray that he wasn’t saying something idiotic and ignorant about the election. Please, not here, not now, not while we’re trying to escape all of the hope-pummeling commentary by taking refuge at a fucking ICE CREAM SHOP.

He tried to sneak in a few more words, at which point Monica completely shut him down, telling him that she just didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

“What the fuck?” I mouthed as she sat down at our table with her sundae.

And then she told us exactly what happened, starting with her having a conversation with the Scoops lady about how it had been a long day.

“Yesterday was a long day too,” Brookline Sleaze butt in. Turns out he was referring to a local cop getting killed when responding to a domestic violence call last Thursday.

Monica reminded him that a woman was also killed by the shooter— her husband—and he said he didn’t know that.

“Yeah, and she was six months pregnant,” Monica added. Brookline Sleaze went on to say, “Yeah, but you know, the cop—” which completely verifies that we live in a world where women really do come second, if anywhere at all. And the BEST PART, oh boy, are you ready?

The best part was when Monica told us that he essentially insinuated that the cop’s death was more important because he died while doing his job, and you know, she probably asked for it.

HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT.

She probably nagged him. She probably cheated on him. She probably emasculated him.

She probably did something to have her life and the life of her unborn baby taken away.

Good call, asshole.

Mad props to Monica for keeping her head from spinning during that moronic discourse; in that moment, she was the Michelle Obama of Scoops. 

 To be honest, I probably would have been too stunned to continue the conversation, as well. Or I’d have just burst into tears because I just can’t handle anything anymore. And then White Hetero Henry probably would have told me I’m overreacting or asked if I’m on my period.

Fuck you, White Hetero Henry.

And fuck you harder, Brookline Sleaze.

Chris and Chooch were like, “Fuck this noise, let’s talk about Disney Emoji Blitz.”

And that’s right, White Hetero Henry — you just sit there and keep your privileged mouth shut before you unwittingly marginalize someone. Why do I feel like the Trump administration is going to turn me into a chubby crusader who lops off penises with hedgeclippers. FAT SHAME ME, MOTHERFUCKERS.

*****

If you’d like to learn more about the pregnant woman who, like the cop, didn’t deserve to die, her name was Dalia Sabae and it sounds like she was really fucking amazing. I didn’t know about her either until Monica told me, because every news source I saw that day only mentioned the slain cop.

There’s not enough ice cream in the world….

Chooch had the right idea last night, after a long week of rampant emotions, sinking stomachs, and bruise collecting from all the “pinch me, I’m nightmaring” that we endured. He decided that what better way to unwind than by writing haikus, so he and Chris turned it into some strange therapy game, where they would give each other a topic to haiku about, and then read them out loud for me, Henry, and Monica. It made for some entertaining performance art and definitely offered some levity.

I’m going to share them, in case anyone is looking for something to read that’s not perpetuating a divide within our country. Chris’s will be in bold, Chooch’s will be in italics.

Finishing Harry Potter

I can’t do it now

I don’t have enough time now

Just leave me alone

Safari

Elephants are cool

Hippopotami are mean

Don’t eat me, lion!

Clowns in the Woods

Killer clowns are loose

In the woods, don’t leave the house

Or else you will die.

Ghosts in a Gang

Oooh, I’m a ghost

My posse and I will kill

But we can’t hold guns

Unicorn Chef

He never cuts onions

Or else scientists will freak

and find his secret

Noodles in Heaven

What is that sweet sound?

Angels plucking their gold harps?

Nope. It’s totes noodles.

Noodles in Heaven

God won’t ever cook

Noodles because he is bad

He can’t work a stove.

Baby in a Hammock

Aw, how sweet is that?!

That baby looks comfortable!

Oh no, he* just fell!

*(Ed.Note: props to Chooch for using an actual pronoun to refer to the baby; I always just call them “it”s.)

Stitch Sleeping

This Stitch is so soft

Let’s go to Hawaii please.

Aliens are cool.

Swimming Pool with Marbles

John lost his marbles

When he went to Hawaii

Now my pool is clear.

Creepy Baby Doll

That doll is naked

It’s praising the god of dolls

It will steal your soul.

And then Chooch and Chris were supposed to “huddle” and come up with a title for one that Monica was going to be forced to write, but Monica created a diversion by shaking out a knapsack of kittens in Chooch’s vicinity, creating a clear path to the exit for herself.

Holy shit, another day, another bleeding-heart emo girl blog post! Woo!

When Balance and Composure announced their fall tour, I was really bummed to see that Pittsburgh wasn’t on the list, but my consolation was that I’d get to see them before that at Riot Fest, so I should just take that and be satisfied and stop whining and pouting and talking about how disappointed I am and just grow the fuck up and get over it right? Sorry, I think I’m mixing this up with SOMETHING ELSE. #presidentialelectionPTSD

So Riot Fest came and went. I got to see B&C and it was great! It was only my second time seeing them live, which is pretty crazy considering they’re pretty popular in the scene I follow. But they were always one of those bands that I liked but not LOVED. I used to get them mixed up with several other bands that I felt the same way about: liked it when it came up on a playlist, but never actively sought them out. Then I saw B&C open for Circa Survive one time, I think it’s been about 2 years now? Almost. But it clicked for me that night. I got it. Seeing them live changed everything for me and I heard their songs an entirely different way—with my heart. This is why I skipped out of Bob Mould’s set early to ensure I got a good spot near the stage for B&C at Riot Fest last September. They were at the top of the list for me that weekend, you guys. Ask Henry: he had to hear me WHINE LIBERALLY about it all fucking weekend.

Still, I thought I would be OK missing their fall headlining tour, but then their new album was released in the beginning of October and MY LIFE CHANGED. If it’s possible to imprint on an object, an idea, a concept….well then that’s what I was experiencing.

So my rational, adult-like CONCESSION when it seemed like going to Cleveland on a work night just wasn’t viable, especially with the super fun unexpected expenses we’ve had to deal with over the last month when the automobile gods pointed their golden socket sets* at us.

*(I dunno. I googled “tools to work on cars” and supposedly this is important to have.)

Oh, and then our fridge has begun a slow, frustrating death. I LOVE BEING AN ADULT!

And still there I was, in the midst of all of these annoying life nuisances, clutching onto Henry’s leg, begging him to take me to Cleveland to see Balance and Composure. Like, for real begging. I’m not proud of it but MUSIC MAKES ME DO DIRTY, SHAMEFUL THINGS. But Henry was all, “STOP WHINING. THE PATRIARCHY HAS SPOKEN.”

Finally last weekend, Henry could stand it no longer and said, “FINE, WE WILL GO TO CLEVELAND. YOUR VOICE HAS BEEN HEARD.” See?! DON’T STOP FIGHTING FOR WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN. Just keep poking and prodding on every social media platform. I pestered him from all angles: text, email, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat (he got an actual video of me saying PLEAAAAAASE and crying), and Twitter. Don’t ever stop campaigning for what you believe in. APPLY PRESSURE. BE PUSHY. FLIP OVER A CAR.

OK, don’t actually flip a car. Leave that to the hateful people.

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

Thursday finally arrived and it was the one positive thing I had to look forward to that week. That didn’t stop me from ranting until my mouth was foaming like Cujo, but even that felt good. To just talk and talk and talk (and punch the inside of the car door a few times). But once we arrived at Beachland Ballroom, it was time to let the healing begin. And I was so calm and heart-eyed from the moment we got in line outside, and I didn’t hate anyone. Not even Henry.

I was glad that we got there before doors opened because I have The Nerves when it comes to venues I’ve never been to before, so it was helpful to be one of the first people there and have a chance to get my bearings. I liked it right away! Just one nice, big open room with a really cool bar—I got some kind of pumpkin sour beer and it was OK and anytime I drink a new beer, I have to text Lisa to tell her about it because she’s my life manager. Lisa said that sour beers are like the new trend, but I wouldn’t know.

It didn’t taste like pumpkin, but it definitely tasted like sour.

Johnny sounds like a huge prick!

OK OK OK the first bad was Mercury Girls and they were fine! Girl singers makes me say “eh” usually but this one was pretty cool, she had a nice 60s beach vibe to her voice and it was lulling me into a peaceful state. I liked it. Henry said “eh” and then shook his head, but fuck Henry. No one cares what the white privileged male likes. Except for most of the country, apparently.

Fuck you, Henry.

During their set, JON SIMMONS AKA THE SINGER OF B&C, walked past us and I internally began to die. I slowly turned around and mouthed “OH MY GOD” to Henry, who just rolled his eyes in response. I think his belly probably flipped a little bit too though because Henry isn’t so straight that he’s unable to recognize dreamy guys.

I was almost as excited for the next band as I was for Balance & Composure — FOXING. These guys have eluded me for years. I don’t know how I have such a knack for missing them every time they come to town; I think the last time was last April when they were here for Broken World but all the bullshit with my grandparents’ house had me so exhausted that I ended up not going.

Oh my fucking god, I knew it was going to be great, but not THAT great. They fucking killed it and brought the entire room together when the singer spoke his piece in between songs, about how it was his birthday, but it was the worst birthday of his life thanks to how shitty this election had turned out.

“For the next 40 minutes, let’s just pretend like it didn’t happen.” And then you could barely hear the start of the next song over the uproarious agreement. Solidarity. That’s the only good thing that has come from this, realizing that my scene is full of such compassion. Even Henry said he wasn’t mad about it, and this is the guy who was so disgusted in 2004 when we went to see Metric and The Stills at Mr. Small’s, and the singer from The Stills got political on everyone. I mean, if not for that, I might not even have any recollection of The Stills.

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And when they played Rory, I wanted to start hitting myself in the head right along with the singer.

I just asked Henry what time B&C came out and he mumbled, “10:30. I know that because I kept looking at the time.” This show started later than most shows we go to, and Henry was quietly stewing over this, since we still had a 2+hour drive back to Pittsburgh afterward, LOL. Luckily for Henry though, there was an empty table nearby, so he got to lounge and nod off during their set while I resumed my patented “YEAH I’M HERE ALONE, SO WHAT” stance.

But you guys, you guys, you guys, they opened with Midnight Zone and I thought my heart was going to come tumbling out of my kooka. THAT SONG. This isn’t from the Cleveland show, but it is STILL SO HOT, HELP ME JESUS.

HIS DANCING, STOPPPPPP MY HEART CAN’T TAKE IT.

There was a girl next to me who was so into it that she was doing some weird kind of country line-dance, and I was like “get it, girl.” It was awesome. She was so happy to be there and we smiled at each other at one point, and I love connecting like that. Mostly because it doesn’t involve words or touching.

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“Tiny Raindrop” is my go-to B&C jam and hearing it always makes me so happy – I love that song so much I wish I could wear it! Like just put my arms right through it and wrap it all around me like a soft beautiful pashmina.

• Midnight Zone
• Spinning
• Void
• Tiny Raindrop
• Postcard
• When I Come Undone
• Mediocre Love
• Quake
• For a Walk
• More to Me
• Is It So Much to Adore?
• Lost Your Name
• Reflection
• Tore You Apart in My Head

I feel like I’m missing something, but the set was so on point, the whole band was flawless, the crowd had so much energy—I felt so grateful to be there. How did I get so lucky on the boo-thang front? Henry is the best boo-thang I could ever ask for!

https://www.instagram.com/p/BMt3T0sjX8Z/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

And he bought me a tour poster because god forbid our walls have any open space left on them.

If there’s anything that’s going to heighten my sensitivity and inability to stop tears from pouring from my eyeballs, it’s a good show. This was such an incredible night. Going to shows gives me life, and I will never ever ever take this for granted, especially not the road-trips that Henry takes me on to see bands he doesn’t like and sometimes even hates. But he at least admitted that he likes Balance & Composure and that even though he did nod off in his chair a few times, he swears he actually paid attention the times he was awake and thought it was “good.”

The only downside is that the show didn’t end until almost midnight and, after stopping at Sheetz to get food and a mega-caffeine boost, we didn’t get home until sometime after 2:30am. I won’t ever sleep as a passenger out of solidarity to Henry, but man, I wanted to succumb to slumber in a bad way. It was actually painful.

But so motherfucking worth it. I still have chills thinking about it. <3333

I finally finally finally got to see Foxing last night when they opened for Balance & Composure, after a million or so missed opportunities. Obviously I’ll be back to maniacally slam out 12099 words in my typical harried, typo’d fashion (hey I mostly blog from my phone because it’s convenient so cut me some slack) but I wanted to leave this video here because I waited so patiently for them to sing it last night, I knew they would, and when they did I don’t think I breathed one tiny breath through the whole thing. Unrequited love AF. 

How is this band not a household name by now, I’ll never know. 

I AM SO WIRED RIGHT NOW. WORK FRIENDS, BE GLAD I’M OFF TODAY. 

1. Ending sentences with prepositions.
2. Hating the inbred yinzers currently working on the other side of our duplex. They must be mole people because they only come over at night and stomp around like cinder block-footed sumo wrestlers, scream-talking in their degenerate nicotine-throated pittsburghese, and fucking slamming the front door repeatedly. I just now started screaming at them through the wall and henry is all OK OK OK SHHHH because he hates conflict but I HAVE HAD IT BUDDY. AND NOW OH SHERRIE IS ON THE RADIO SO IM RIDING STEVE PERRY’S VOICE TO A HAPPY PLACE SOMEWHERE IN 1984. (side note: the only time I had beef with Gilmore Girls was when they referenced this song and said it was JOURNEY #wrongzo #nope)
3. Planning a small holiday party & searching for awesome punches to serve on the beverage buffet. The plan is to get henry so drunk that he starts telling us SERVICE stories.  In times of crisis, I go into hostess mode. 
4. Obviously still Balance & Composure, and I’m seeing them tonight in Cleveland!!!
5. Investigating realistic ways to make music my career because I think it’s safe to say that this isn’t a phase but legit passion and every minute that doesn’t involve me listening to music, reading about music, talking about music, trying to get you guys to listen to bands I love, and going to all of the shows, a piece of my heart petrifies. I can’t sit in an office for the rest of my life, I just can’t. I feel like a caged animal. :(

Let’s end with a picture of Drew being a dick. 

****

HI ME AGAIN. I just flipped the fuck out because those dbags next door slammed the front door so hard it shook the house so I went off and henry was all PLZ DONT DO THIS and then the DJ on the radio said something about it being November 10 and Henry mumbled “it’s not November 10” and I yelled “YES IT IS YOU KNOW WHY BECAUSE ITS AFTER MIDNIGHT AND DO YOU KNOW WHY WE’RE AWAKE—BC OF THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS NEXT DOOR UGHHH”

And Henry just murmured, “No, that’s why you’re awake. I’m awake because you were screaming.”

It’s me against the world AS USUAL. 

HAY GUYS HAY. Trying to stay upbeat over here so here is a flashback post that has nothing to do with elections or racism or hate or bigotry. Just a good old fashioned Amish shoofly pie tribute post from when Corey and I traipsed around Sugarcreek, OH two years ago, back when 2016 seemed so far away and we had no idea what a shitstorm was on the horizon.

So yeah! Shoofly pie for president.

******

After our life-changing trip to Heini’s Cheese Chalet, Corey and I decided it was time to get a substantial meal that didn’t consist of cheese cubes on toothpicks and (the best) butter (in the world) on Wheat Thins. We opted for Der Dutchman because it boasted Amish Kitchen Cooking, so of course we went and ordered the two most American meals on the menu: a cheeseburger and grilled cheese.

And we forgot to use our dinner rolls the way they were intended: as vehicles for Der Dutchman’s peanut butter spread. Corey wanted to ask our waitress for more rolls so that he could have a do-over, but then he kept chickening out. Also, we had to stand in line just to get inside the restaurant, which normally would be a huge HELL NO for me, but when in Amish Country, I guess. Some hag in front of us kept trying to make conversation because we clearly have such avuncular faces? I’ve always been told that I’m stand-offish, so I guess that doesn’t translate in Ohio.

Before we were seated, there was a brief moment of panic when Corey and I thought that this was a family-style restaurant and that we might have to sit at a table with some horrible family, asking us to pass the biscuits, and I almost fled. When I was a kid, this might have been pre-Corey, our family went to Lancaster, PA, which is essentially the Amish capital of America.  We ate at some restaurant that had an attached petting zoo and we sat a long wooden table with other families and I was crying internally because I didn’t want to eat with people I didn’t know but our dad was like FUCK YES THIS IS REAL COUNTRY-LIVING! He was all about it. But what I remember most about that meal was the shoo-fly pie. Because of that experience, it has always been the first thing my mind goes to when I think of Amish (OK fine, right after I think about them copulating through a hole in a sheet).

This is all to say that I was really looking forward to piggybacking  my grilled cheese with a slice of that sticky molasses Dutch pie.

(Oh dear god, my tongue is having vivid flashbacks of my last shoo-fly pie experience.)

I was really excited about the creamed corn.

Halfway through lunch, I noticed that Bitch-Broad from Heini’s, the one who had the nerve to yell at our beloved Father Cheese, was also dining at Der Dutchman! (That’s her in the green shirt and stupid poufy hair behind Corey.) Corey said she was also at the bakery we stopped at across from Heini’s and that even in there, she was bitching about how she couldn’t believe the price of whatever bakery item she was glaring at. Then we saw her after we left Der Dutchman as she and her horde of less-bitchy broads walked into a chocolate shop. She still looked mad! How are you going to be mad walking into a CHOCOLATE SHOP? Maybe she should have just stayed home and watched her DVR collection of The View.

But as usual, my train of thought is getting derailed once again. She has literally nothing to do with shoo fly pie.

When our waitress asked us if we wanted dessert, Corey and I declined because we hadn’t seen shoo fly pie on the menu and we were obviously saving room for that down the road.

Before we left the Der Dutchman parking lot, Corey decided that we should call our dad and ask him where to get the dessert of Amish gods.

Corey put him on speaker, and it was one of the  most painful laugh-stifling moments of my life, possibly even moreso than the one at Heini’s, because I felt actual kidney pain. Like the angel on my shoulder had hopped off and started punching me in the side for being the type of asshole who laughs at a dad who is genuinely trying to help his kids have the best Amish experience possible.

“Oh, I doubt you’re going to find shoofly pie,” our dad said gravely. “In fact, I had to pre-order one the last time I was there because I knew the bakeries wouldn’t have any otherwise.”

We were suffering at this point from what I can only describe as “The Wet Laughs.” Tears were streaming down our faces and I was even starting to break a sweat from the exertion of laugh-containment.  Corey wheezed, “I can’t!” and flat out hung up on our dad. I can only imagine how ugly I looked in that moment, with my face wet, red and twisted in a mixture of pain and hilarity. I FELT ugly. It was an ugly laugh. Hearing our dad speaking so seriously about shoofly pie was just too much.

Finally, we calmed down enough for Corey to call our dad back, who answered immediately by saying, “The reception is really bad out there, I know.” And then proceeded to sound disappointed when we mentioned that we chose Heini’s over Walnut Creek Cheese, and then asked, “Did you guys go to the hardware store yet?”

That fucking hardware store!

“It’s not like a Home Depot, you know,” he earnestly advised. “It’s TWO FLOORS and it has a lot of things that Erin would like to look at. Like birdhouses.”

BIRDHOUSES?!

We promised that we would stop and check it out after we visited Sugarcreek, but first we had important business to tend to at Swiss Heritage Winery, which was essentially like your Aunt Rhoda’s house, full of sparkly trinkets, Betty Boop memorabilia, and clashing floral patterns, with a small wine bar thrown in almost as an afterthought.

Corey and I each chose 5 wine samples from a cheerful lady in a supposedly traditional Swiss dress and then plucked some complimentary chips and cheese cubes from a platter and took our wine samples over to a tall table where we recalled what we learned from Roberto at Narcisi Winery last year, and proceeded to stick out like sore thumbs. I liked all  the wines just fine, but wasn’t really in the mood to purchase any bottles until I noticed that he cherry cranberry variety was called “Han’s Favorite Wine” and featured a picture of Hans himself, in a Swiss cap and lederhosen. Swiss Heritage, you got yourself a sale.

While Corey and I were paying for our wine, I used it as an opportunity to ask the older women behind the counter if they had the shoofly pie 411.

I’m not even exaggerating when I say that the expression on the one woman’s face actually darkened, like we were suddenly in Hogwart’s and I had audaciously screamed “Voldemort.”

“I wouldn’t even know,” she said curtly. “That’s something you don’t see very often around here anymore.”

“You might want to try Der Dutchman,” the other woman offered, with a slight shrug, but I told them we had just come from there and it was a no-go. (Although we never actually ASKED the waitress. Now I’m kind of glad we hadn’t. We might have been told to get the fuck out.)

“Sorry, I just don’t know,” the first woman said without even a HINT of apology as she handed over our gaudy gift-wrapped wine purchases.

As we shirked out of the door, I could hear the two of them still talking about shoo fly pie, like they had just been reminded of something that they were told to forget.

“I think I might have a recipe for that somewhere….” the nicer of the two was saying as the door closed behind us.

****

“What the fuck, Corey!?” I laughed as we set off for Sugarcreek to finally gawk at the world’s largest cuckoo clock. “Why did t hey act so weird about shoofly pie!?” We spouted off some theories, like maybe there was some feud between the Pennsylvania Dutch Amish community and the Ohio Amish, and the PA peeps won the rights to the pie.

After checking out the clock, we stopped in some novelty shop called Finder’s Keepers, where we quickly learned that a movie was recently filmed there called “Love Finds You In Sugarcreek.” Almost every shop along the main street had signs and DVD displays in  their windows. Even the Gospel Shop! We stopped in the Decanter and Stein “Museum,” which was basically just a small,  musty room full of steins and decanters for sale. I found pretty  much the only one that wasn’t $500 dollars and decided that I needed to buy it because I refused to leave Sugarcreek without a stein. I’m suddenly hot for steins, I don’t know.

The proprietor was a really old man who took his grand old time wrapping my stein in newspaper and taping it with 87 pieces of Scotch tape while I was having a coughing fit. My allergies had been flaring all week and basically as soon as we set foot in that shop, I knew I didn’t have much time. This was he only low point of the day for me, and as sweet as that old man was, I had strong urges to snatch the half-wrapped stein from him and yell, “I’LL JUST DO IT MYSELF THANKS” except that I couldn’t even speak since I was coughing so hard.

Once we stepped out into fresh air, I felt fine, so we went to Esther’s Home Baked Goods which was right next store. The inside of the bakery was very brown and austere. But Esther’s friendliness and bonneted-head compensated for the lack of paper lanterns and pastel palette.

“Oh, I see you looking at my chocolate pie!” she enthused, and I had porn flashbacks. “It’s on sale because I messed it up. It still tastes good, though!”

Way to sell it, Esther!

“You don’t happen to have any shoofly pie?” Corey asked.

“No,” Esther said, seemingly bemused by this question. “But it’s funny you ask, because several people have asked me that lately! Maybe I should try to make it again….” she added, mostly to herself.

I ended up getting some weird date cake thing and Corey got pumpkin ice cream and peanut butter fudge.

“Tell me if the fudge is OK!” she begged Corey. “It just didn’t seem right when I made it.”

This lady and me would make a great business team. Esther and her “Dessert Messes” and me and my “Fake Art.” Our confidence will bowl you over.

My date cake thing was actually pretty good though. Corey said the fudge was way too soft but he liked it.

He left out the “too soft” part when he gave her his review before we left to set off for the infamous “hardware store.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think we were being sent off for slaughter.

****

I don’t know why I didn’t bother doing this while we were there, but a quick google of “shoofly pie” explains that it really is mostly just a Pennsylvania Dutch thing. No wonder those broads seemed so weird about it.

They clearly hate Pennsylvania.

If there is one takeaway from our day in Ohio Amish Country, it’s that I really need to spend more time with my dad. He has inadvertently given Corey and me a day that we will probably talk about (and laugh about!) for the rest of our lives. And THAT is better than shoofly pie.

****

THIS JUST IN!!!