I wrote some drivel a few months ago about how I was thankful that my family took so many pictures every time we’d go to an amusement park, because not only did it help preserve some of the happiest moments of my childhood, but it also served as a time capsule since so many of those rides are no longer around. (Darkrides get no love, yo.)

My mom and grandma were chronic shutterbugs. After my grandma died in 2011, I told my aunt that all I wanted was photos. ALL OF THEM. My grandma kept tomes of photographical evidence of my youth and I want it all. Even the stuff pre-Erin. I’m obsessed with family photos, and maybe I’m grasping at straws here, but I really feel like I NEED these photos to help me hold on to a little piece of the family whom I have barely been able to identify with since 1996. I feel like an outsider in so many aspects of my life, but never as much as I have with my own family.

(Spoiler alert: I did not get a single photo from that house. Thanks, guys.)

Photos of my mom smiling are rare (you saw her wedding photos, right?), so I think this might have been an accident. FUN BEHIND-THE-SCENES FACT: Chooch was looking at this and said, “Wow,  no wonder everyone always says I look just like you. I would have thought that was me in that picture right there.”

“No one ever says that,” I snapped. “It’s always, ‘OMG HE LOOKS JUST LIKE HENRY!'”

“Really? I think I look just like you. People are dumb,” Chooch shrugged.

I love him.

KEYSTONE KOPS! I would give anything to ride this again. I haven’t been to Wildwood since 1992 and even though I want to go back so badly, it pains me to think of how different it must be now. It was hopping back in the 80s and I’m not exaggerating when I say that those summer vacations comprise the majority of my best childhood memories. It was magic. Pure magic. It makes me wonder if anything will be like that for Chooch, what memories will he turn to as an adult when he needs to think happy thoughts. I hope he has an arsenal of them to choose from.

I have absolutely no recollection of this ride, but it was definitely Wildwood, and it looks like a boat ride? Hopefully one of my dark ride enthusiast friends will see this and enlighten me.

This is one of the few photos I have of my step-dad, mom, and me all together. My mom hated having her picture taken, and I’m the same way now. Selfies are fine, but someone standing before me with a camera makes me clench.

This picture is forever one of my favorites! What you can’t see is that the Sea Serpent, Wildwood’s corkscrew coaster, BROKE DOWN with the coaster ON THE LOOP. So that’s what everyone is looking at, except for my Pappap and me, who were too scared to not look at my grandma when she commanded us to LOOK AT THE CAMERA. This is one of the memories that probably most people that day never thought about again, unless they were one of the people on the Sea Serpent, but it always stuck with me for some reason. Like I was A PART OF HISTORY. It reminds me a little bit of the time my aunt Susie and Pappap were trying to get a piece of mail out of the gutter when I was 4 or so, and it was THE BIGGEST DEAL IN THE WORLD TO ME. (That’s honestly one of my favorite childhood memories and no one in my family could ever understand why I thought it was such a big deal!)

Me and some broad on some car ride somewhere.

The Whip at Kennywood. My birth dad was there that day, too.
  

I’m not sure what ride this was at Wildwood, but OUR FACES THO. I can only imagine how much my Pappap hated going on rides but he still did it because I was his FAVORITE. And don’t you ever forget that.

I think was the first time I ever rode the Wildmouse at Wildwood!

This was definitely at Kennywood.

Back when my mom kind of loved me.

The impetus to this post was my friend Liz commenting on my recent Busch Gardens post on Facebook, saying that she still has a souvenir photo of us from Kennywood when we were in middle school, and it inspired me to dig out the above picture of us on the Music Express with my brother Ryan and the FOREIGN EXCHANGE STUDENT * who lived with us that summer. His name was Laurent and he comes up in conversation more often than you’d think for a kid who only lived with us for three weeks one summer. He is also the reason I’m wearing such stank face in this photo, because I did not like him and just knowing he was behind me made me seethe.

*(This link will take you to my old, embarrassing LiveJournal. Apologies in advance.)

So thank you Liz, for inspiring me to get up off my butt this morning and force everyone to jog with me down memory lane. AMUSEMENT PARK MEMORIES FTW.

Remember when you were younger, how exciting it was to wear matching outfits to the school picnic at the local theme park with your BFF? Well, I don’t. I mean I wasn’t a total loser back then to where I was going to amusement parks alone, but my friends and I never wore matching Lycra bike shorts and BUM Equipment tshirts, is what I’m saying. Lots of other kids played the matching game though, and more power to them, you know? As long as they weren’t line-jumping (that’s cause for rival from the park), I didn’t care who wore what.

All of that is to prepare you for when I tell you that 20 years later, I put some thought into my amusement park game and arranged for Chooch and myself to both wear Emarosa tanks.

 Henry felt left out as usual. #lifegoalsonlock
It’s been over two weeks now since we were at Busch Gardens, but sometimes when I’m sitting at my desk at work, I get flashbacks of the BEST RIDE I HAVE EVER BEEN ON.

THE VERBOLTEN.

I knew nothing about this ride when Chooch declared it was next on our route. The three of us mindlessly wound our way along the empty queues and chose our spots in the station. Chooch and I waited for the second seat, leaving Henry to ride alone behind us. A recording of a German broad speaking in cheery lilt played over and over while we waited for one of the coasters to make its way back to the station. There were four running that day, so the wait was quick and painless.

As our coaster departed, I was under the impression that this was more of a tame, “for the younger kids” ride. But then we approached the entrance to a building, and our coaster fucking shot off and went barreling into the pitch black vortex and I just screamed and screamed and screamed. I LOVE WHEN ROLLER COASTERS TURN INTO DARK RIDES! The idea was that we were careening perilously through the Black Forest and there was this one part where the coaster slowed to a halt and THEN DROPPED several feet to another track.

Fucking fantastic!

Then you shoot back out of the Black Forest, and the rest of the ride is outdoors.

“You know I’ve been to the Black Forest, right?” I asked Chooch because I love to brag to him about how much richer (literally) my childhood was than his.

“Oh, of COURSE you have!” he cried angrily. And then, “….was it just like the Verbolten?”

YES IT WAS JUST LIKE THAT, OMG. Here, look at the battle wounds on my back from that time a TROLL grabbed our Trafalgar bus right off the road when we were trying to go to a goddamn cuckoo clock store to buy really expensive souvenirs.

We rode that sonabitch three times that day, and it still wasn’t enough. The scariest was the time we were in the front seat and I had seemingly lost all memory of what to expect and proceeded to scrape the lining off my throat with my forceful screams.

“Huh. Beer is pretty cheap here.” -one of the few things Henry said all day.

Omg the Lochness Monster was a pleasant surprise! I thought it was just going to be your standard steel upside down coaster, but there was an entire part where we shot into a cave and just kept spiraling and spiraling down. I LOVE WHEN COASTERS GO INTO TUNNELS, ETC!

While I made a quick pee-stop at some point that day, Henry did this really charming thing where he buys himself and Chooch a cold beverage but conveniently forgets that I too am a human being, at risk of dehydration on a summer scorcher. So I came out of the bathroom and see those two assholes chugging their way to pale yellow pee while my kidneys felt like they were being used as bongos.

When I opened my mouth to bitch, Henry slapped a five into my hand and told me to “be a big girl” and get my own beverage.

This was one of the many times I called up my favorite image: Henry’s balls wrapped in acid-dunked barbed wire while being crushed in a vice.

That motherfucker.

So I’m standing in line to pay for my water and the man in front of me asks the cashier where she’s from, because he detects an accent.

And she says Romania.

“And I wasn’t going to  say anything, but then it was my turn to pay and the next thing I know, I’m blurting out, ‘so….I’m obsessed with Romania and I think I was born there in a past life and it’s my dream to visit, hopefully sometime in the next few years!'” I hysterically brayed when I rejoined Henry and Chooch with my independently-purchased cold beverage.

“Oh. Wow. And did you say it just like that?” Henry asked, with that idiotic smirk of his.

“Yes!” I answered triumphantly.

“You’re a creep,” he mumbled, and we set off for France.

He’s just jealous that I made a friend at Busch Gardens and that I might have a place to stay when I move to Romania, the country that gave us Bela Karolyi.

THE BEST GYMNASTIC COACH IN THE WORLD.

I have to remember to pack my homemade Bela t-shirt. 

Henry won Chooch this dumb Pokemon stuffed thing. (Bulbasaur? I can’t tell what Chooch is calling it mostly because I’m not listening.) This plush fucker became the bane of my existence for the rest of vacation. I kept hoping he would forget it at a hotel along the way but no dice.

I was adamant about taking a boat ride and the other two were very against this.

It turned out to be 15 minutes of dumbness plus the “lake” is man-made and fake bodies of water make me feel uncomfortable, like it was put there to hide something.

Several of the coasters at Busch Gardens have been on Coaster Wars, or whatever that roller coaster show is that I sometimes catch  on whatever cable channel (probably the Travel Channel, let’s not act a fool here). The Griffin is one of them, and I was honestly scared as fuuuuuck to ride this beast. It’s one of those really wide coasters that seat something like 15 people across. I could look it up but I’m writing this on my phone while laying on my bed, listening to “Dreamweaver” (IT JUST CAME ON, OK) and not actually in a smoke-filled office with a typewriter while wearing a visor and dinging a bell for no reason. So basically, I’m half-assing it again.

When it was our turn to load in, some Busch Gardens broad came over and made us all move down a seat and she totally caught me off guard and made me nervous to the point where I couldn’t remember how to sit in a seat and I ended up SLIPPING ONTO THE FLOOR OF THE COASTER in front of all the people who were in line! Chooch shot me a disgusted “Drunk much?” scowl as I did my best Pee Wee Herman & brushed myself off.

Seriously though, a stepping stool would have been helpful.

Or a toadstool.

Speaking of stools… that ride was one mother whomping shit softener. When it gets to the top of the hill, it STOPS so you’re just casually chilling a million feet in the air (again—research, what’s that) and staring straight down at the ground while your life flashes before your eyes and you wish you had known you were going to die that day so you could have told everyone to FUCK RIGHT OFF on Facebook. And somehow, over top of the screaming, you hear a quiet, metallic click. And then BUHBYE.

God that ride was everything. Henry didn’t go on it because he too scared.

There is a sick dark ride there, something about a DarKastle. The walk to the loading area for this one is really long so I suspect it must be popular on a busy day for it to need a queue that long, but on THIS day, the day of Erin Rachelle, Chooch and I walked all the way through to the front and then immediately boarded a car with a scene couple. IT WAS BAD ASS. I wasn’t sure what to expect and I prayed that it wasn’t going to be like all of those boring shooter dark rides that are all the rage lately, but it turned out to be more of a 3D simulation type of ride and we LOVED IT. I should also note that all of the best rides were in the German area.

The Alpengeist was awesome! It’s supposed to to be like you’re on an out-of-control ski lift and it has the distinction of being the last ride Henry rode that day because it knocked him out of commission.

It was right around then that it occurred to me that beer was cheap there because ANHEUSER-BUSCH.

BUSCH GARDENS.

I was excited to tell Henry of my revelation and he just gave me a NO SHIT sneer.

Although it appears that douchey SeaWorld owns it now.

Alpengeist, Loch Ness Monster, and the dumb boats.

“I wonder what DONNA is doing right now,” I mused while eating the messiest, wettest waffle cone of my life. “Probably being the best at whatever it is.” Henry actually kind of laughed.

“Yeah, if she was here, she’d have the Quick Queue,” Chooch piggybacked.

And we all laughed into our fast-melting ice cream. Donna, bringing our family together since one day before.

And then around 7:00, we tired of each other’s company and had exhausted all the coasters. So we left and on the way back to King’s Creek, Chooch and I verbally eviscerated Henry because we were hungry so he locked us in our cottage thing and went to get Subway.

UNTIL NEXT TIME, B.Gard!

Suggested soundtrack for this post:

Is it really all that surprising that Busch Gardens is the only reason why I bought a Williamsburg vacation package two years ago at the Big Butler Fair? I have only been there once, and I was probably 4 or 5 years old. But the more I think about it, it could have been the one in Florida…Or maybe I just think I was there because there’s a photo of my mom and dad on the rapids ride and I assumed that I was there, too, standing next to the person who took the photo.

I feel so confused now.

It’s like when you hear a story so many times that you begin to delude yourself into thinking you were there. Like when Amber² was pregnant and sent a smoke signal for a larger, more comfortable chair and wound up with some enormous, old green monstrosity, and then every time someone walked by and commented on it, she would tell them the story of how she acquired it and since I sit behind her, I had to hear this story over and over until I was able to tell it on my own, whenever someone would ask about it when she wasn’t at her desk, because I had the story so many times that it was like I WAS THERE.

EXCEPT THAT I WAS THERE.

So, never mind. Bad example.

Anyway, we got free tickets to the park as a “gift” for enduring the timeshare presentation.

You know how I love Bavarian shit? THIS PLACE HAS IT. And French crap, and Italian stuff, and British bullshit, and Irish hullabaloo. IT IS A EUROPEAN WONDER. (There was some American decorations too to appease all of the freedom fighters.)

Shiny patriotic shit to make people like Henry happy.

The parks we typically go to range from small to medium-sized, but now that Chooch meets the height requirement for basically every coaster, we’ve been anxious to hit up the bigger parks. (And obviously Henry is not included in that “we.”) It just didn’t make sense to do that before. Anyway, this is the type of amusement park that has shuttles to get you from the parking lot to the park entrance, and judging by the crowds just in our section of the lot (Italy, holla), we anticipated that we would be doing a fair amount of waiting most of the day.

WRONG. It was unbelievable how uncrowded it was! Thank you, 93 degree random Tuesday in July! The first thing we did was walk right onto Apollo’s Chariot, a coaster located in the “Italy” section. I don’t get sick on coasters like I do on most spinny rides nowadays, but sometime over the last 10 years, I have developed a near-crippling fear of that initial ascent and spaghetti-legged paranoia over the security of the safety harnesses. When we were waiting for the parking lot shuttle, we watched Apollo’s Chariot going up the hill on its test run and I started to feel woozy even then.

Henry was being a bitch because he apparently wanted to go on the Tempesto first, which is right next to Apollo’s Chariot, but Chooch and I veered off in the direction of Apollo’s Chariot instead, a silent reminder that Henry does not get to make choices at amusement parks.

I was whimpering the whole time we slowly climbed that hill, and Henry was not sensitive to my fears AT ALL. “It’s not that high!” he kept saying in his native douche-tongue. And then I was fine once we crested, but it’s in my nature to shriek things like, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING I HATE THIS OMG THIS IS THE WORST NEVER AGAIN FUUUUUCK YOUUUU!” because I strive to set a good example for my son.

Once the coaster returned to the station and the safety harnesses deactivated, Chooch frantically lunged down and snatched something off the floor of the coaster. It was a black twist tie, and he seemed very relieved to have found it. He tucked it away in his pocket and I forgot about it….

…until Tempesto. Henry was being a whiny bitch and decided that BOO HOO he didn’t want to ride it now because the moment had passed. For fuck’s sake, go call mommy then, you little bitchbaby. Get over yourself. Anyway, Tempesto I guess is the new attraction for 2015, but even still, we only waited for about 15 minutes. And you guys, they give you a FANNY PACK at the entrance so that you can keep your possessions safely strapped to your person. What a fucking novel idea! I didn’t need one though, because I had already packed Henry’s fanny with my cell phone.

I mean…not to be confused with that techporn you watched last week with your downstairs neighbor.

Tempesto is a sick son of a bitch. Basically, I thought I was going to fall out the entire time, either my entire person or just my bowels. Maybe my boobs from my bra. It just really felt like something was going to fall out. And so I made sure that the cries erupting from my lungs accurately reflected my concerns.

Chooch LOVES that his mom is a beautiful banshee at the amusement park. He proudly Vannas his hands toward me and declares, “Ladies and gentlemen: my mother!”

Lol. No.

He gets so pissed. It’s all, “Mommy, stahhhhhhp!” and “Oh my god, you’re so annoying!”

Mommy’s little motherfucking 4th grader.

  
The above picture illustrates the exact point in the ride during which I died of Fear and then was resuscitated by the Even More Fear that occurred 2 seconds later.

So all in all, I would give this ride a 5 out of 5. You really missed out, Henry. You fucking pussy.

After we exited the ride, Chooch triumphantly pulled that black twist tie from his pocket. “Frederick survived!” he cried joyfully.

“Is that the thing you found on Apollo’s Chariot?” I asked.

“Oh no, I’ve had this since yesterday,” he casually responded. “It’s from that rifle gun I bought before the ghost tour.”

“Wait, did you bring that with you?” I pressed for details.

“Uh, yeah…?” he replied in a “so what?” tone.

I was just about to tell him he’s a fucking weirdo, but….my god he is so much like me.

There was only one moment during the whole day where Henry ALMOST ruined my life and that was when he tried to thwart my dreams of lunching at the Festhaus. “There isn’t going to be anything for you to eat there!” he grumped, to which I slowly leaned back and gave him the “Since when do YOU care?” hairy eyeball. I’d be happy with a lone slice of bayern-y bread as long as I’m surrounded by beer steins, lederhosen, and upbeat volksmusik.

Leave it to Henry to be a douche about the deutsche.

I ended up having a perfectly fine meatless German lunch of salad and strudel, so go choke on some schnitzel, Henry. YOU RACIST.

Chooch and I claimed a spot at one of the long wooden tables. Henry strode over with all the confidence of a Professional Driver and said, “I don’t want to sit here” and so he kept walking further to the back of the haus of fest, plumping his rump down at the end of an empty table. I suppose he expected Chooch and me to waddle after him like lost, frightened ducklings, but we were just like, “L-O-L motherfucker” and kept right on eating.

Henry, realizing that he either stay there and eat alone like when he was a Eunuch in Indiana, or admit defeat and join us at the cool table, angrily stood up with his tray and squeezed his way past all of the people sitting at our table. Apparently, that was why he didn’t want to sit there to begin with, because the seat across from Chooch and me wasn’t easily accessible. That didn’t affect us, so….

If you wish to see pictures of Henry looking unhappy at the Festhaus, please click here.

After my ears slowly tuned back into the white noise that is the Incessant Bitch Fest of Henry J. Robbins, I calmly explained that I chose to sit there because I wanted to be close to the stage.

“For the show,” I added, strudel falling from my mouth.

HILARIOUSLY, we were finished eating before the show started and I didn’t feel like wasting any more ride-time, so we left. But not before Henry had to use the bathroom, which is when Chooch’s trained eye spotted this gem:

More later this week. The Pretty Little Liars season finale is on tonight and I’m not gonna lie (not pretty or little enough to be a liar): I AM TOO DISTRACTED.

But first, here’s a picture of the Kinder Karussell. KINDER MEANS “KID” IN GERMAN, you guys.  My German game is on point.

It seems that people associate Warped Tour with metalcore these days, and I get that it definitely caters to that part of the scene, but Warped’s pop-punk, indie, and alternative rock game is just as strong. Contrary to popular belief, Warped Tour isn’t just one giant breakdown. I was really stoked when Hands Like Houses were announced, because they’re definitely one of my favorites. Henry is pretty whatever about them though; he thinks Trenton looks like he’d be a dick, but I have never heard of him having a reputation nor have I ever tried to meet him, so I’m not sure where this judgment stems from. (He also feels the same way about Austin Carlile from Of Mice & Men and that man seems so genuine to me!)

I’m obsessed withi their guitarist, Alexander Pearson, because he reminds me of a young Tim Curry. So I just call him “The Tim Curry Guy” and Henry just shakes his head because he doesn’t get it. BUT YOU GUYS, LOOK! TIM CURRY GUY! I was so giddy watching him set up!

TIM CURRY GUY!!

I would like to see more bands from the Blue Swan scene on Warped Tour, though. Eidola, Stolas, Hail the Sun, Icarus the Owl, Adventurer, and also Artifex Pereo and A Lot Like Birds who aren’t on Blue Swan but should be. I love the sub-scene that those guys have been cultivating and wish there was more of that type of post-hardcore sound on Warped Tour.

I got to hear “Lion Skin” and then it was time to sadly say goodbye to HLH and run back to the Unicorn Stage for PVRIS! They started out on one of the smaller stages, and wound up getting bumped up to the main stage once Kevin Lyman saw the crowds they were drawing. I’m so proud of these guys! It’s always exciting to see such a young band bust their asses and be rewarded for it. It’s also nice when a female-fronted band comes onto the stage and doesn’t try to sound like Paramore. Sorry, but I had to say it!

This was my second time seeing them, and I was pissed that it had to be under that damn amphitheater. There was no way I was going to try to push my way into the pit, not with Chooch there. And even standing where the seats start on the floor is dangerous. I remember a few Warped Tours again, Pierce the Veil was playing on one of the stages under there and Henry and I were standing up in one of the first rows of seats, and I seriously thought we were going to get crushed because people still try to mosh and crowd surf even with the seats in the way and it’s just bad news all around for less-resilient adults. So Chooch and I had to find seats back where it was safer, and it was fine I guess. I don’t know where Henry was. We lost him again because we were running too fast.

I actually cried several times during PVRIS’s set. Lynn Gunn’s voice just kills me. Terri sent me an article yesterday about how music can give people “skin orgasms” and that’s definitely what was happening to me under the First Niagara pavilion. PVRIS is going to be huge.

And the best part is that when Chooch met Lynn later on that day, she was so sweet and had no rock star ego. It was refreshing. She also got excited when she saw that Chooch was wearing the Emarosa “For Fox Sake” shirt and told us that she designed it, which makes her infinitely more awesome in my eyes. Chooch almost didn’t get to meet her at all. I misheard the time she was going to be at her tent, so we casually walked over after Pierce the Veil’s set later that day and there were only about 10 people in line.

“Yeah, realllly long line,” Chooch said sarcastically, because I told him that there were probably going to be hoards of people trying to meet her. Well, it turns out the line was so short because it was cut off a long time ago, and the end of the line was like THE END of the line. But the guy in charge of it was like, “I’m not supposed to let anyone else in line, but….you’re a kid so go head.” Relish this time in your life, Chooch. You’re still a novelty to the scene but pretty soon, you’ll just be one of the masses.

UNLESS YOU’RE IN A BAND.

I think Chooch already posted this in his guest post, but oh well:

He was like STARSTRUCK after this. He kept murmuring, “I can’t believe I just met Lynn Gunn….”

I had no idea he liked PVRIS this much! Warped Tour is so much more fun now that this kid goes with me. I know this is like the 6976th time I’ve stated that, but I really mean it. I never thought it was possible, but it means even more to me now.

Some of my favorite Warped Tour moments over the last 7 years involve Pierce the Veil. They’re one of those quintessential scene bands and always put on a great show at Warped Tour. They’re so much bigger now than they were the first time I saw them there in 2008 though! So even though they were playing under the pavilion on the main stage and we had to stand back really far, it was still exciting for me. (And Henry, too. Admit it, Henry.)

We ended the day with Set It Off, and Chooch the hustler managed to get $10 from Henry in order to chase down the merch guy who was walking around selling the new SIO acoustic ep, which was only $5 and Chooch slyly pocketed the change.

So while Henry was all annoyed about getting ripped off, I was bloated with pride over the fact that my kid is doing his small part in supporting bands by caring enough to buy their CDs when he knows that he could just YouTube it or play it on Spotify.

Henry doesn’t like Set It Off, so this made it even better.

As usual, I was dragging my feet toward the exit. I hate saying goodbye to Warped Tour every year and with everything that’s been going on with it this summer, I worry about its future. How much longer will it go on? I hate thinking about that. And to be honest, I’ve been dragging out these posts because I don’t want it to end. :( I have to find a way to get a job in the music industry or suddenly develop  enough talent to start a band or marry the owner of Rise Records, because this is fucking ridiculous.

On the way out, we saw a magical rainbow. Perfection.

Normal people might consider relaxing at a spa, or on a wine tour in Napa, or laying on the beach in Hilton Head, and I get it; but for me, Warped Tour is my place of Zen. It’s where I recharge and heal and feel whole again. I can’t imagine ever losing this feeling.

Warped Tour has been under some heavy scrutiny this summer, lots of controversy and drama with some of the bands exacerbated by social media. I’m not sure what state that’s going to leave the tour in by the end of the summer, but right now I want to focus on the most important aspect of Warped Tour: the music. This summer’s lineup was stacked. I don’t give a fuck what all those aging punks on music forums have to say about this topic: the mix of bands was diverse. The unfortunate downside is that there are going to be bands I have to miss in favor of other bands, and that is what heart-break feels like, my friends. As soon as the gates opened, Chooch and I sprinted to the Vans inflatable while Henry stood in line to buy a paper schedule. When we met back up, he handed me the schedule and said, “I don’t think you’re going to have a problem with scheduling conflicts this year!”

I bore holes through him with my furious eyes and spat, “Really? Then you don’t know me at all!” Because the inflatable had already broken my stupid heart. I knew I was going to have to forfeit ’68 (I have been dying to see them again ever since last year’s Chiodos tour) in favor of Never Shout Never for Chooch, and there could be no Beartooth, August Burns Red, or Moose Blood because I was 100% unwilling to miss even one second of Emarosa’s set. And don’t even get me started about how bummed I am that I missed Matchbook Romance. I really need to plan on going two Warped Tours next year. I always say that though. #musicfestivalproblems

Bands we managed to catch, whole sets and partial:

• Palisades
• Koo Koo Kangaroo
• Our Last Night
• We Came As Romans
• New Year’s Day
• Man Overboard
• Never Shout Never
• Night Riots
• Transit
• Hands Like Houses
• Silverstein
• PVRIS
• Emarosa
• Pierce the Veil
• Set It Off

Bands I am not sad about missing out on at all:

• Black Veil Brides
• Attila <—fuck them, seriously

Even weeks later, as I’m looking at this schedule, my heart feels so heavy looking at all the amazing bands I couldn’t squeeze in without cloning myself. Bands like Citizen, Pup, The Wonder Years (I’ve seen them several times, but still), Lee Corey Oswald, Alvarez Kings…ugh. Heartbreak.

We started the day off with Palisades, which was actually Henry’s idea. We saw them once with Dance Gavin Dance and I guess he must have secretly liked them enough to want them to be his Warped Tour breakfast. I thought Chooch would like them because they’re pretty fun and energetic, but he just shrugged and said, “I don’t know. They’re too loud.” I really only like one of their songs, which they played so I felt fulfilled.

Next up we had to run to the Beatport stage to see Koo Koo Kanga Roo. This is not something I ever would have given a second thought, or even half of a first thought, but when we were waiting in line before gates opened, one of the singers was walking by carrying a stick with a huge picture of his head on it, trying to spread the word about the band. (I’m thankful for these distractions every year. It makes waiting in line way less excruciating.) He targeted Chooch right away and they had an adorable conversation.

“You must be in a band,” he said to Chooch, and in my head, I was screaming, “I WISH! HOPEFULLY SOMEDAY! I MEAN, I’M NOT GOING TO FORCE HIM OR ANYTHING BUT I PROBABLY WON’T TALK TO HIM MUCH IF HE’S NOT!” Then he asked Chooch what bands he was excited to see, and Chooch thoughtfully said, “All of them.”

“That’s a lot of bands!” said whichever one of the Koos this was.

And then out of nowhere, Chooch said he was most excited to see PVRIS, which kind of surprised me because while I knew he liked them, he hadn’t really mentioned that to me before and WE ARE SUPPOSED TO TELL EACH OTHER EVERYTHING ABOUT OUR FEELINGS FOR MUSIC.

The group of kids in front of us were listening to this and when he said “PVRIS,” they expressed their approval at his taste in music and I was like, “Well, he only likes them because I do, so….”

God I hate myself.

The Koo Koo Kanga Roo guy went on to totally sell on us on his set. “You gotta come by! It’s a dance party! We sing songs about fanny packs and cats….” Welp, someone said the magic word.

Their merch guy was dancing like a crazy person to Walk the Moon’s “Shut Up and Dance” which entertained us while waiting for Koo Koo Kanga Roo, who eventually come out wearing gold fanny packs.

And a hilarious dance party ensued.

This is why I love Warped Tour! Where else could you sing songs about everybody pooping with two crazy guys who play shows at elementary schools and then have your face melted off by Beartooth? But no, there’s no diversity. You’re right, jaded music forum posters.

Their set was fun and hilarious. I’m so glad we went!

Afterward, we went to their merch tent so Chooch could get a CD. Henry Warbucks was like, “Buy them all.” Chooch and I exchanged a “wtf got into HIM look?!” because Henry hates spending money at Warped Tour so now I’m convinced he has a side job as a gigolo. (Oh come on! Everyone has a type. I bet there’s tons of octogenarians out there who want a surly-faced man in a striped shirt, naming Faygo flavors in a husky voice.)

He also got a Koo Koo Kanga Roo comic book and stickers that smell like gross things. Not a bad way to start the day.

“You made it!” the moustacioed-Koo exclaimed happily when he saw Chooch.  “Do you know what time PVRIS plays?”

“3:50,” Chooch answered, and I had no idea that he had even checked the schedule for that. I guess he likes them more than I thought.

From here, we headed to the amphitheater, where the two main stages were held since there were storms in the forecast. I hate, hate, hate the stages under the amphitheater, and it was even worse this year since it was the main stages, but I understood that it was something that had to happen. It’s just so hard to enjoy any of the bands when they’re playing those stages, because it’s hard to get close. We ended up sitting and it always feels weird to me to be sitting at Warped Tour. I felt like a true Old Person. While we were under there, the first of many waves of heavy rain started, which drove so many people under the amphitheater, it made me wonder if anyone was left at the other stages. I felt bad for all of those bands who were playing at that time.

Oh, also, we purposely lost Henry during this time, and it made Chooch and I ridiculously giddy. We could see his idiot cabbage-head bobbing up and down in the crowd, searching desperately for us. Oh, how we laughed.

Our Last Night was still playing on the left side of the stage, so Chooch and I listened to them while waiting for We Came As Romans. I saw OLN last year with Chiodos in Cleveland and my impression was “meh.” But I really liked them this time around and I’m glad I was forced to give them a second chance. Then WCAR came on and I was just like, “………..” I don’t dislike them or anything, but they don’t really make me feel any type of way. Chooch likes them a lot though and that’s all that matters. He wrote about seeing them here.

We were going to walk around after their set ended, but then it started storming again, so we fetched Henry and found seats closer to the other side of the stage, where New Year’s Day was playing. I feel like they’re at Warped Tour every year.

“Wait, their singer is a girl!?” Chooch asked in disbelief. He kept making fun of them, and I was like, “Dude, they’re really not that bad!” and he gave me this horrified look and said, “I can’t believe you just said that!” I found out later that the whole time they were playing, he thought it was Black Veil Brides, and we have a huge mutual dislike for that band, so I guess he thought he was losing me as an ally or something.

We made Henry feed us around this time. Henry’s favorite thing! Spending money while praying that whatever food he’s ordering will satisfy us and quell the bipolar-demons within for a few hours more.

Henry trying to block out Transit playing behind him. He had to call work around this time, so he left us at the Journeys stage while we waited for Hands Like Houses, and walked around trying to find a halfway-quiet area to make his call. He was so excited when he came back because while he was on the phone, some guy moved him out of the way, and when Henry turned around, he realized it was a security guard escorting Vic and Jaime from Pierce the Veil through the crowd. Henry, the ultimate scene dad.  You guys know he secretly enjoys this shit. He can name at least one person in most band that I like, even some of the ones I don’t like. I really think he likes going to Warped Tour!

This concludes the first half of the day.

If you’ve ever hoped to celebrate the existence of pickles on a bridge, then Pittsburgh is your Wishmaster. The city closed down one of the bridges for two days in order to fulfill the desires of local gherkin jerks. I do really love pickles, but I probably wouldn’t have braved the crowds if not for the fact that Balloon Ride Fantasy was playing on a stage at the end of a bridge on Friday.

I worked late shift that day, but Gayle dismissed me a little early since it was a slow night. Henry dropped Chooch off downtown and the two of us walked over to the Rachel Carson Bridge, which was gridlocked with pickle junkies. It’s not that I always hate crowds. I’m (mostly) fine with crowds at concerts but if I’m trying to get from Point A to Point B and there are hordes of lollygaggers slowing my normal fast pace down to a sluggish shuffle, I get very upset. And of course it was humid as fuck and I was wearing the goddamn blouse I wore to work because I’m always so ill-prepared.

Did I mention I’m terrified of bridges? And I live in the City of Bridges. (Literally. Pittsburgh has more bridges than any city in the world. DON’T LET ANYONE FROM HAMBURG, GERMANY OR VENICE TELL YOU OTHERWISE, because God forbid should my blog ever not be factual.) Sometimes on my lunch break at work, I’ll force myself to walk across one of the bridges. I’m getting better, but these bridge parties put me on the precipice of pants-crapping.

It was 8pm by the time we started to elbow our way onto the bridge and everyone was so happy and stoked on pickles. It was absolute insanity, all of these Smilers happily sipping their beers from pickle-green plastic cups while shoving large rounds of the guest of honor into their mouths. I wanted to shove large rounds of pickles into my dumb mouth too, but there were so many people that I couldn’t even find where they were being sold!

Ideally, we should have just walked along the actual pedestrian part of the bridge in order to get to the stage faster, but what’s the point of going to a pickle festival if you’re missing out on all of the pickle propaganda?

And then we saw my work friend Allison! So I got to introduce her to Chooch, but it was impossible to stand there and chat any longer because we were being jostled along by the wall of people behind us.

And then Chooch inexplicably fell, but it wouldn’t have been a normal outing otherwise.

There were so many people that it was hard to separate the slow-moving crowd from people standing in actual lines for vendors. And not to be Judgey Judy, but there were A LOT of dicks out there on that bridge Friday night. Foodie events seem to bring out some of the worst people, and I can’t tell you how many times someone pushed me out of the way and then gave ME a shitty look, like sorry I’m in your way of taking a perfect photo of a plastic cup full of kimchi to post on your Yelp review, but go stand off to the side and do that shit. My favorite was the yuppie bitch who almost knocked me over because she was in “such a big hurry, hurry up!” only to stop dead in her tracks right in front of us to take a selfie with her friends and the giant inflatable pickle.

Find your chill, bitch. Can’t we all just share the pickle love gently and politely?

Sometimes I think I confuse my social anxiety with just a general and overwhelming disdain for the human population.

When I saw that we were approaching the Pittsburgh Ice Cream Company’s booth, I went into Fighter Mode, grabbed Chooch’s hand, and elbowed my way through the undulating mass of hipsters and yuppies and probably ended up cutting in line, and I hate line-jumpers, but…eyes of the prize, right?

They were out of the two pickle flavors that were on the sign, so I settled for Bread & Butter Jalapeno, because #yolo, and Chooch got the Honey Nutter even though he didn’t seem so sure of his choice. Of course, he ended up loving it and kept making these uncomfortable moans while eating it, pausing long enough in between tastes to cry, “THIS IS REALLY GOOD” while it dripped all over his shirt. Goddammit.

Mine was really good too, but he was just like, “It’s….alright,” with a shrug.

We stopped for some samples of pickled vegetables. I apparently don’t like pickled things as much as I thought I did previous to attending a festival based on the art of pickling.

But we each got a free Heinz pickle pin, and coupons for vinegar, so that was cool!

It took us nearly 30 minutes to get to the other side of the bridge, and I was a hot, pickled mess by then. Summer, I love you, but your friend Humidity can choke on a fucking pickled dick.

Luckily, we made it to the stage in time to catch Balloon Ride Fantasy! I met one of the singers, Bethany, back in October when she and I were both part of my friend Kristy’s “Golden Ghouls” costume at Zombiefest. 

Mem’ries.

Bethany and I became Facebook friends after that, and that’s how I found out about Balloon Ride Fantasy. Ever since, I’ve been wanting to see them perform, and braving the bridge madness was definitely worth it. They’re a perfect blend of indie pop and 80s synthpop that serves as the perfect cleanse after a post-hardcore overload. (I know, I know, there can never bee too much post-hardcore! But sometimes it’s good to mix it up.) Also, I love bands that have alternating guy and girl singers.

Those lyrics, though! So smart, so good.

“He sounds like the guy from Smashing Pumpkins,” Chooch yelled into my ear. I love that he knows enough music to be able to make comparisons! I only slightly agreed with that though, and felt that if we were going to play that game, then his voice was more along the lines of Brian Aubert from Silversun Pickups. And that is to say: fantastic. And so is Bethany! She sounded so beautiful and it was wonderful seeing her not only in her element, but without a pound of zombie makeup on. If I wasn’t friends with her on Facebook, I wouldn’t have recognized her!

Chooch and I were both super into it, until that sonofabitch had to PEE because his irresponsible father didn’t make sure he went before they left the house. Henry, you are the literal worst.

We left halfway through their set (ugh) and walked back to my work, where I called Henry to see what his ETA was. Just as the phone started calling him, a woman approached us and my BAD NEWS BEARS radar started going off. I knew right away she was going to ask for money and possibly try to shank me/kidnap Chooch/inject us with heroin and sell us to a vendor in the Casbah.

Immediately, she starts crying. Good lead-in.

“I know you’ll understand because you have a kid,” she began, hugging herself and being generally shifty. “I need to get home to my kids in New Castle and I only have $2 and bus fare is $22, please can you help me?”

I was still holding my phone and I promised her that I had no cash on me. She was persistent and I finally just had to grab Chooch’s hand and start walking away.

Then I remembered I was calling Henry, who had answered just in time to witness the whole exchange.

“It’s always great when I answer my phone and hear someone crying,” he said. He thought it was me crying at first and panicked, because MAYBE DON’T LEAVE ME AND YOUR SON ALONE ON A FRIDAY NIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BIG, SCARY CITY, HENRY. I’m glad he felt panicked!

He picked us up moments later and Chooch excitedly relayed the panhandling story to him.

“What did she look like?” Henry asked.

“White, in her thirties…” I began, while Chooch said over top of me, “Face wet with tears.”

Then we bragged about our ice cream and Henry was sad.

And that’s the story of how I went to a pickle fest and ate not a single pickle.

It’s been a week and I’m still in lala land. I’m currently on the way home from seeing an acoustic Emarosa show at Mahall’s and trying not to cry because it was everything I could have asked for. Because Henry needs a break from my hyper blathering, I figured I’d do some car-blogging before I get even more behind. 

My friend Amelia likes to ask questions on Facebook to spark conversation, and the other day she asked “What is you favorite sound?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. 

Music festivals. 

Specifically, Warped Tour. There is just something so beautiful, familiar, comforting about the cacophony of competing music in a parking lot of stages. It’s like an apocalyptic carnival that I can’t stop buying tickets for. 

The weather wasn’t very favorable but what can you do. This definitely wasn’t nearly as bad at the first day of Riot Fest last year, but made for some soggy TOMS. 

 This was Chooch’s third Warped Tour and he is basically a seasoned pro at this point. He s that schedule and scrutinizes the fuck out of it and knows the location of all of the stages before I do which is irritating because I hate when the student becomes the master. 

Grrrr.

Rain in b&w because I’m fancy sometimes.  

Waiting for Set It Off, much to Henry’s chagrin. Chooch changed into his newly-acquired Emarosa tank which is cut way more provocatively than anything he’d typically wear, as evidenced by his tanlines. 

Those shoes were red when we left the house. I think Chooch is telling Henry that he owes him money. He doesn’t forget about being owed money. WHO DOES. 

Merchaholic. 

I can’t find the proper words to illustrate just how happy I am that my kid goes to Warped Tour with me now. Henry’s mom was telling me that she was flipping through the latest issue of Alternative Press and was shocked he knew nearly every band there and was telling them whether or not he liked them and why. Being able to share this with him is such a beautiful part of parenting for me and I’m really honored that he wants to be involved. You know, when Henry picked up Janna and me from the Kurt Travis show last weekend and i screamed in Henry’s fave that Kurt Travis dedicated a song to me, Henry was like *smirky frown* but Chooch is the one who excitedly asked, “WHICH SONG?!”

I love that kid. 

Meanwhile, Cabbage was one of the better bands we saw that day. Their vegcore anthem “Get Slawed” was a real crowd-pleaser. 

UNTIL TOMORROW. LET THIS GOODBYE BRUSH YOU GENTLY ON YOUR EYELASHES LIKE A BUTTERFLY. 

I think I wrote this in my sleep. I’M TALENTED!

The “‘Getting Stuck Carrying Everyone’s Shit at Warped Tour, What Fucking Band Is This Anyway? Don’t Answer That, I Don’t Care'” shot.

(Shout out to that Zao shirt back there!)

The “Waiting For Never Shout Never To Start and Hoping Chooch Wants To Leave After That Because Let’s Go Son, I’m Ready; We’ll Come Back Later And Pick Up Your Mother” shot.

The “Henry Tries To Blend In After Losing His Kids During The Band Our Last Night, This Is Worse Than The Time He Was In The Service And Had To Fight In a Real Life War HaHa J/K That Was Just a Bad Dream” shot.

The “OMG Henry Has His Arm In The Air For Pierce The Veil….

Oh Wait, He’s Just Trying To Tame His Bushy Brows” shot.

The “Mmmm. Family Granola Bar Time At Warped Tour, Reminds Him of the Care Packages His Mom Sent Him When He Was In THE SERVICE” shot.

The “Where’s Henry?” shot.

The “Pretending I Dropped Something On the Floor At King’s So I Could Get a Crotch Shot” guest shot by Chooch.

The “‘Ugh, I Need To Stop Fingering Cabbage Patch Kids'” shot.

The “Waiting For the Furry Parade To Start, Wondering What Kind of Furry He Would Be If He Had the Courage, Probably a Ted Nugent Bear” shot.

I do this thing where, as I’m writing blog posts, I’m actually hearing myself talking in my head to a group of imaginary friends, kind of like when you’re preparing to take the stand in a murder trial by staring at yourself in a mirror and clearing your throat a lot. So while I was thinking of all the things I wanted to say in this post about Emarosa, my brain-voice was machine-gunning the words at such an alarming pace that I gave myself a headache.

In other words, I am fucking stoked as hell to tell you, imaginary friends, about how it felt to see Emarosa at Warped Tour last Thursday, a/k/a THE BEST DAY OF 2015 THUS FAR.

If you’re a new figment of my fake readership, let me give you a brief run-down of my love affair with Emarosa and why I didn’t give a shit who else was playing at the same time as them that day because this day trumps all. I fell in love with them in 2008 after Jonny Craig got kicked out of Dance Gavin Dance and picked up by Emarosa, currently in need a new singer. Jonny Craig was It for me back then so naturally Emarosa became my favorite band.

Jonny fucked them over big time in 2011, and so the rest of the band really had no choice but to part ways with him. Jonny was all, “Good luck Emarosa, you guys are nothing without me” and for awhile it was starting to look like he was right; they all but fell off the face of the earth, popping up sporadically to let Facebook and Twitter know that they weren’t done, they were still writing music and looking for a singer.

It took them three years, but they found Bradley Walden and proceeded to record their best album to date; it has never felt better being an Emarosa fan. My pride for them is so ridiculously over-the-top that you’d think Chooch was in the band.

Thinking of the shitty position that Jonny put Emarosa in (remember the MacBook scandal?) always leaves me with the bitter taste of chopped cabbage in my mouth.

(It’s worth noting that Emarosa only played the first leg of Warped Tour, and then a day after their last date, Jonny’s new band Slaves jumps on for the last leg. There was absolutely no overlap. #soblessed that the Pittsburgh date got Emarosa and not misogynistic, drama-perpetuating Slaves!)

I always get real on edge right before seeing a band that I’m super into, so around 4:30 (35 minutes before their set time), I started to feel pretty barfy, coupled with some intense pants-peeing giddiness. I mean that in all of the best ways, like back in high school when you would hide behind a corner, waiting to take a clandestine photo of Scott Dambaugh with your 35MM camera; or when you would have your mom drive you past his house; or when you and your best friend would walk “casual” laps around the mall while you hoped to spot him slinking about lazily in his billowing Stüssy pants, OMG IT WAS JUST LIKE THAT.

It had been raining, and I mean RA-HAY-NING, intermittently all day long, and it conveniently started up again right before 5:00. I was bummed, because Emarosa has been making huge waves this summer on Warped Tour, and were even bumped up to the main stage for one of the dates, thanks to their incredibly energetic performances. They’ve been growing more and more popular, and the pictures I had been seeing online showed that they were drawing really big crowds for a band playing on one of the smaller stages.

Unfortunately, the rain drove a ton of people clear to the other side of the venue, beneath the amphitheater’s sheltering roof, leaving very few of us to brave it out before the Kevin Says stage. By the time Emarosa came on, the rain was coming down in bullet-like sheets, and there were times I had to shut my eyes because it felt like my contacts were being knocked off my eyeballs.

But it was worth it. Fuck the rain! Bradley gave zero fucks about the weather and spent 95% of their set immersed in the audience. (The few times he was actually on stage, he was busy busting out basic gymnastics stunts and spinning Will upside down. He has done nothing short of busting his ass to win over the old Jonny Craig fans, and in the process, he has garnered a ton of new recruits as well. If I wasn’t such a blathering mess in these situations, I would like to hug him and thank him for breathing new life into Emarosa. And then I’d like to grovel in the faces of Will and Jordan about how grateful I am that they didn’t stop trying and how I never gave up, and how proud I am of them and most of all, fuck Jonny Craig! He was nothing but poison. I wasted so much time defending him when all he gave back was slurred performances and humiliating encounters. I’m too old to fuck around with that.

Moments after the above picture was taken, Bradley had crowd-surfed his way over to where I was standing and I got to touch him and was like OMFG about it for the rest of the day. Chooch likes to tell everyone that I cried, but I promise you I didn’t actually cry. I only cried once all day, and that was during PVRIS’s set. (MORE ON THAT IN ANOTHER POST.)

This was actually only my seventh time: 3x with Jonny as the singer, once with Tilian Pearson who was filling in when Jonny was forced to go to a detox facility, and 3x with Bradley. I am here to report that this was the best performance of them all. I was so excited that this was Chooch’s first time getting to see them live! He seemed really into it, and we were right in front of the barrier so he could see perfectly (not like Bradley was ever on the stage!) but there was a moment when I looked over my shoulder at Chooch and he was making this anguished face, so I thought to myself, “Oh boy, here we go. The Brat is surfacing.” Because he has a pretty low threshold when it comes to doing things he doesn’t want to be doing, so I thought maybe he had grown tired of Emarosa so quickly and was about to start whining about wanting to go home.

Boy, sit yo’ ass down. We ain’t leaving when Pierce the Veil is on next!

Anyway, I found out later that his contorted face was out of repulsion because there was a couple behind me who were making out, God forbid.

Just, wow. Bradley proves over and over that Jonny isn’t the only golden-throated angel in this scene. It makes me laugh that after Bradley had joined the band, Jonny was tweeting about how Emarosa wasn’t “allowed” to ever play “his” songs again, but they are. And Bradley is KILLING IT. “Set It Off Like Napalm” coming out of his mouth is almost too much for me to handle.

If we’re being honest here, I don’t think Emarosa is going to be this scene’s best kept secret much longer. They are too good and deserve mainstream success. I’m rooting for them so fucking hard.

***

Right after the last song ended (1996 On Bevard!), Bradley said he was going to be at their merch tent meeting everyone; after dropping the mic, he ran straight up that soggy, muddy hill, true to his word. We quickly followed, and thanks to the still-heavy rain, only about 20 people beat us there. There was a little bit of time to spare before Pierce the Veil, so I asked Chooch if he would be my proxy and meet Bradley and Chooch was like, “Yeah, duh.”

He’s clearly a pro at rubbing elbows with bands now, you guys.

“I dare you to tell him that he’s better than Jonny,” I said, laughing as we stood in line.

“What will you give me if I do?” he immediately asked, his wagering cap securely fastened under his chin. It’s never free with him! What happened to the days when the mere act of accepting and completing a dare was all the glory needed?

So I promised him a dollar. That little crook.

I know Chooch already posted this picture in his own blog post, but it is too glorious not to repost over and over again.

God I can’t even remember what happened now when it was Chooch’s turn, I was shaking so bad. But I will tell you that right after I took this picture, Chooch started to walk away but then turned back and said, “You’re better than Jonny.”

“Thanks, man!  I agree,” Bradley said, propelling me into a tailspin of IS THIS REAL LIFE.

I shot myself with a horse tranquilizer just in time to chime in with, “We’re Team Emarosa!” Bradley probably said “thanks” or something, but I couldn’t hear past the psychotic ringing in my ears.

“You’re so goddamn awkward,” Henry said after we walked away. WTF I felt like I was being pretty OK and normal for once? I dwelled on it on for the rest of the day, trying to recreate in my head what I must have sounded like. Probably Bullwinkle. So, thanks, Henry. I’m glad you fucking fell down the hill!

***

I’ve been going through serious withdrawals like I always do after a show, particularly Warped Tour. But the good news is that I’M GOING TO SEE EMAROSA AGAIN TOMORROW NIGHT IN CLEVELAND, WOO!

It happened in between PVRIS and Emarosa. We were walking down a hill, headed to the Black Craft Cult merch tent because Henry wanted to get a larger size in the Lucipurr shirt he bought for Chooch. Henry was in front of us when Chooch spotted the Warped Youtubers tent over to the left. A small line had formed, idiot girls waiting to get their pictures taken with these kids who are inexplicably Youtube famous.

What a world we live in, where the term “Youtube famous” is a thing.

“I want to meet BryanStars,” Chooch decided right then and there. “I just want to hear him say ‘Werped Ter.'”

As I mentioned in a previous post, Chooch and I like to watch these Warped Tour videos on YouTube and crack up at how some of the Midwestern Youtubers say Warped Tour. Bryan Stars is the major one who we ironically watch, and it drives Henry up the wall. He absolutely cannot stand this kid, because Henry is an Internet bully.

I’m not really sure how Bryan Stars became “famous,” but he has been interviewing bands on YouTube for years. One of his sit-downs with Never Shout Never turned into a notorious shit show and Bryan Stars is so beloved by his fans, that NSN ended up taking a lot of heat for blowing up at him. (Christofer Drew even made him cry!) It is incredibly painful to watch.

So we get in line and I’m like, “Whyyyyy are we doing this? This is so embarrassing!” and Chooch is all, “No it will be great. We’ll just hear him say Werp Ter and then we’ll leave.”

And then Henry realized we weren’t behind him anymore and had to retrace his steps. Please see above photo for his reaction when he saw what we were in line for.

“Daddy’s so disappointed in us,” Chooch laughed.

So then it was our stupid turn and Bryan was all, “Hey man, what’s up?”

Chooch: *becomes a cabbage*

Me: *Gets Warped Tour schedule wet with tears as I see all the bands we’re missing at this moment*

Bryan: Do you watch my videos?

Chooch, nervously: Uh….not really.

Me: *dies slowly*

Bryan: Do you want a picture?

Chooch, shrugging again: Sure, OK, yeah, I guess.

Me: *take the fastest picture of my life while backing away*

Bryan: Do you want to meet Jordan? Hey Jordan, come here.

Chooch: *……….*

Me: *please make it end*

Jordan: *lots of awkward body movements that I think might have been a wave*

Me: *This is so dumb*

Bryan: Um, so, do you like, want to be in a band when you grow up?

Chooch: Uh, not really.

Me, desperately attempting to make a fissure in the ice: I want him to be, but he’s going to end up being something stupid….like a doctor.

[No one laughs.]

Jordan: *reaches out awkwardly to shake my hand*

Me: *swept away in a gust of awkwardness*

Bryan: So…..are you having fun at Werp Ter?

Chooch: *explodes*

And then for the next hour, Chooch relived this moment and cracked the fuck up.

I was so pissed off at him though, because they were so awkward to begin with, and Chooch was making it worse by barely answering their questions, so then I felt obligated to say words and the whole time I was like WHY AM I STANDING HERE WITH THESE KIDS?!

Meanwhile, we found out later that right after we ditched Henry to go to the Warped YouTubers tent, Henry slid down the hill.

That was literally the only bad part of the day. Henry slid down the hill.

AND WE MISSED IT.

But, Chooch got to hear ‘Werp Ter’ so I guess that’s all that matters.

(Ugh, it pains me to admit this, but those guys were super sweet and adorable, even while slowly pulling us down in their awkward quicksand.)

  
10:05am: After pretty much arguing all morning because Henry is insensitive to the fact that this is my favorite day of the year, I am now officially in line to get in! Henry and Chooch had to go to Will Call so Henry could get his complimentary Parent Ticket. So I’m just here alone pretending like I don’t care that I’m alone while silently stewing in a jealous pot at all the people who are here with friends. :(

Amber 2 texted me and said that Glenn hopes it rains on me today. What a jerk!

10:35: Two scene girls just walked by and yelled, “Look at that kid’s hair!” And then the one said, “You’re perfect!” And now Chooch’s face is beet red haha. 

10:45: Chooch just had a long convo with one of the guys from Koo Koo Kanga Roo about PVRIS and cats and now people in line notice us and I hate being noticed so thanks Mr. Popularity. 

  
11:12: WE’RE IN! HenrY stood in line for a schedule while Chooch and I straight sprinted across the land so he could shout SKATER MOM at the Van’s tent in exchange for free shit. Henry caught up to us and said, “I don’t think you’ll have a problem!” as he handed me the schedule but HELLO DOES HE NOT KNOW ME? Like three bands I want to see all play around the same time, FML. 

12:32: After getting woken up by Palisades, we had a dance party with Koo Koo Kanga Roo, Chooch’s new idols.  

 Now we’re waiting for Our Last Night to end and We Came As Romans to start and we’re laughing because henry lost us lol. 

  
WE SEE U HENRY. 

1:00: WCAR are on now and I’m like I know none of these songs and Chooch is all god mommy. (He likes them, not me.) Before playing a song they were like “This is about loving each other and supporting each other. Now open up that pit and FUCK EACH OTHER UP!” God I love this scene. 

1:47: NEVER SHOUT NEVER SIGHTING!

  
Henry was more excited than any of us. 

3:06: WHAT U MISSED–Henry fed us & Chooch got to sing along happily to Never Shout Never. 

  
Now we’re at the Journeys stage waiting for Hands Like Houses and Transit is playing on the stage next to us so it’s perfect. Also the sky is blue but random raindrops are keeping us cool here and there. Today is wonderful! 

4:38: Chooch is making me stand in line to meet the Warped YouTubers FML.  

5:58: watched Emarosa’s set in a straight rainstorm, totally worth it, I TOUCH BRADLEY SCOTT WALDEN fuckkkkkkk. 

6:30ish: Set It Off after Pierce the Veil and meeting Lynn Gunn from PVRIS has Chooch like: 

7:06: so live blogging wasn’t as feasible as I thought because downtime was a bare minimum this year, but I have tons of pictures to inundate you with over the next few days (weeks?) once I come down off this high. HOW IS IT OVER SO SOON?? 

Oh, Henry wants me to tell you that when we were waiting for Hands Like Houses, he had to go and call work because he fucked something up, haha, and some guy moved Henry out of the way and said “GO THIS WAY” and Henry realized the guy was security and was trying to corral Vic and Jaime from Pierce the Veil to safety so they wouldn’t get mobbed. He tried to tell me as soon as he came back to the Journeys stage but I haughtily said, “YEAH I CANT HEAR YOU” because I assumed that Henry couldn’t possibly be telling me something that mattered. 

There was a rainbow when we were on our way out, with Bless the Fall playing in the background. How fucking perfect I AM CRYING.   

There was only one bad thing that happened all Warped Tour, and that was when Chooch and I missed Henry FALLING DOWN THE HILL when we were standing in line for the Warped YouTubers!! Ugh!!! Henry just now mumbled to himself, “My leg still hurts from when I fell….” 

8:19: Recuperating at King’s with some post-Warped power slaw. Chooch was yammering about, “Yeah well I touched Bradley’s arm pit!” when the waitress came over and she was like “……” 

Today, I was going to further desecrate and defame my relationship with Henry by writing IN DETAIL about the horrible, dreadful, almost-broke-up-over, July 3rd we had. And I still probably will, but today I was way too preoccupied with JITTERS and GIDDINESS and ROLLER COASTER STOMACH because it’s motherfucking Warped Tour Eve and all I want to do is fantasize about this:

and daydream about this:

and get stoked for this:

and Chooch is going to cry over this:

I’m going to attempt to live blog tomorrow because I love live blogging and I love Warped Tour and IT JUST MAKES SENSE because god forbid I forget to record a single Henry frown or scene kid side-swoop or EVERY TIME I DIED. I even made a “Don’t Forget” list at work today, like I even really needed it, but it made me happy to write things down that I need to bring with me to WARPED TOUR, ahhhh!

I love that my work friends play into this shit with me. Todd was even on the Warped Tour website, looking at the list of bands, and sarcastically saying things like, “Wow, I’m really excited that H2O is going to be there.” And then when I was leaving, they were like “OMG HAVE FUNNNN!” like I was running off to get married. Even Glenn mumbled, “havefun.” when he left today, but I think he is actually pretty stoked because he finally gets a reprieve for a day.

***

Chooch and I were fighting in the car on Sunday (what else is new), and I  cried, “Chooch isn’t going to Warped Tour with us because he’s going to ruin my day!”

Chooch yelled, “Oh please, SHE is going to ruin MY day!”

Henry chimed in and said, “I don’t know what you two are arguing for. The only one who ever has their day ruined at Warped Tour is me.” He’d rather stay home and manscape his beard into a cabbage patch. 

We do this super fun and not at all obnoxious thing where we play Warped Tour “survival” YouTube videos on the TV and Henry gets so irritated because it’s always some apathetic scene kid drowning in their own Hot Topic sponsered ennui, making awkward faces, and telling everyone not to forget to bring their ticket and how like staying hydrated is important and shit. There was one girl in particular who got on Henry’s nerves so bad that I subscribed to her channels and then put on a video of her talking for 8 minutes about how she had nothing to say, followed by a tutorial with her friend Maddie (who is not going to Warped Tour this year) on how to follow boxed cake directions. 

Chooch’s faves are the YouTubers from the Midwest who pronounce it “Werp Ter.”

***

There is no way I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.

EMAROSA THO!!!!!!!!

Our Father’s Day tradition is usually to hit up our local amusement park, Kennywood. I just wasn’t feeling it this year  though, and since I have a knack for making every day about me, even Father’s Day, I suggested that we take a little road trip to Erie and visit Waldameer because I was having some kind of Ravine Flyer II cravings. I mean, it makes sense to me: let’s make the man who hates amusement take us to a park full of it.

  
Of course Henry said yes because I rule, but I’m sure he was wishing that I could just have normal cravings, like for pickles or sex, or pickle sex. We already got to do shit that he wanted to do on his birthday a few weeks ago (i.e. nothing), so I didn’t feel too bad about hijacking his holiday.

LOL.

It takes about the same amount of time (two hours-ish) to get to Waldameer as it does Delgrosso’s, but it’s a different direction and for some reason, it just seems like the drive goes so much faster. Plus, there’s more to ride there and Henry can still pay zero dollars to loaf around on every bench he comes across, plus it has THE WACKY SHACK. If only they had the Wacky WORM as well, then we’d never have to go to Delgrosso’s again!

In all honesty (because I usually lie lie lie to you all the other times?), I wasn’t going to write about this recent trip to Waldameer. I’m a little burnt out and really, nothing note-worthy happened this time around.

  
One of the things my mom did right when I was a kid was always having her camera with her, which is how my memories of our trips to the Wildwood boardwalk have held up. I love that there’s a picture of me and my Pappap on the Keystone Kops ride, and my step-dad and me on the Wildmouse, and the people stuck on the Sea Serpent coaster. My mom was good about that shit, and that’s one of the good qualities I definitely picked up from her—I take pictures of everrrrrryyyyything. I’m sure it’s annoying to Henry and Chooch and they’re like, “No one cares about your picture of the Ravine Flyer, Erin” but someday, when it’s not there anymore, and Chooch is visiting me in the shoddy, state-funded home he’s shipped me off to, he’s going to ask, “Hey Burden, what was that coaster we used to like at that one park that took forever to get to and I would cry about it in the car?” and then I’ll say some kind of technology spell and the Internet will materialize in front of us like a mirage and we can spend quality-time looking through pictures together on my blog.

So, maybe nothing note-worthy happened, but 40 years from now, Chooch might think differently about that.

I want my future house to look like the Wacky Shack.

We were the first ones to ride the Wacky Shack that day! The park was pretty sparsely populated all day, so we mostly just walked right on all of the rides without having to wait anyway, but Chooch still thought this was gloat-worthy.

The second time we rode the Wacky Shack, we were in line behind a family: a mom, her son who was probably 12, her daughter who was maybe 14, and the grandma. Apparently, there was some drama with one of the park performers and the grandson, some big misunderstanding, but the park performer blew it out of proportion and threatened to have this kid reported and kicked out of the park. I couldn’t figure out what had happened, but he had seemingly on accident, done something to really jack her off during her performance. This kid didn’t seem too threatening to me, just your typical white suburban boy in a Nike shirt and cargo shorts. He looked really upset while the mom was filling in the grandma, and if Chooch could just ever stop talking for more than 2 seconds at a time, I might have been able to come home with a much better story for you, Blog!

  
We saw the family later on, this time the dad was with them too. Now there was some drama with between the boy and his sister. He had evidently walked away from her while she was talking to him, and now the dad was trying to act as a mediator while he was in line for the go-carts with the son who now all of a sudden didn’t seem so innocent.  The daughter was on the other side of the line and the dad was like, “Why don’t you just calm down and ride this with us?” and she was like, “I DON’T WANT TO RIDE THAT!” in a “how dare you minimize my feelings!” tone and stormed off to sit on a bench with Grandma. We walked past them later and she was still sitting on the bench, head down, and scowling.

It was like looking at myself.

  
After this latest episode, now I’m not sure I believe that Boy didn’t do something unlawful to Park Performer. He seems like a real motherfucker, walking away from his sister like that.

Chooch made me ride the Steel Dragon twice in a row: once sitting front-facing, and once rear-facing. That shit fucked me up and I opted to sit down on a bench and put myself in Henry’s shoes while Chooch rode a third time by himself.

I keep seeing some lame article going around about people spending too much time taking pictures of their kids with their kids instead of “actually living in the moment” and while I can see where this would be concerning in extreme cases, I have to roll my eyes at this because how am I not “living in the moment” by taking a picture? To me, I’m living in the moment and also capturing a photographical memory of it because I know it’s going to be something that I will look back on some day when I’m sad, and it’ll make me smile. And that’s what I do on days that I’m sad, for real! I re-read trips to Kennywood and Warped Tour and then I’m OK again.      Meanwhile, Chooch was like, “People keep staring at me…?” He forgot he had purple hair.   

On the Comet, Chooch and I sat behind this guy, Michael, who was in his late teens/early 20s and seemed to possibly be autistic. He was LOVING LIFE, you guys, and I have to say, his enthusiasm was infectious. We wound up behind him right after this, in line for the Ravine Flyer II. Michael ran out of line because he wanted to hug some country music station mascot (I never could figure out what it was supposed to be); when Michael came back, he started to walk to the back of the line, but Chooch and I stopped him and let him get back in front of us because we were obsessed with him.

“I like this guy,” Chooch whispered, jutting an elbow in Michael’s general vicinity.

This coaster is the shit, you guys. Here are some words that go through my head when I’m riding it:

• This was a mistake.
• oh god.
• OMGDIDWEJUSTJUMPTHETRACK?!
• holy fuuuuuck!
• This is the train to Hades!!!
• MY MOTHERFUCKING BACK!!!!
• SUCCURRE MIHI, DEUS

Oh my god, it’s a wild ride. Chooch and I laugh like hyenas on it and for those 2 minutes, we are best friends and not bickering mother and son.

The second time we rode it, I was pissed because some stupid group got to jump the line because they were filming it for Periscope, and they were sooooo smug about it. Their leader was some arrogant ginger and the rest of us people in line scowled as he encouraged his group to scream and act more stoked than they actually were. Turns out it was some lame Drumstick gimmick:

Whatever you say, Drumstick.

I spent a good portion of the day shooting Henry in the face with my forced-adorable expressions in order to soften him up because Chooch and I desperately wanted him to ride the Ravine Flyer II with us! Even if you don’t buy a ride-all-day pass, you can put money on a Wally Card in order to ride things.  Waldameer is a cash-free park, so you have put money on one of those cards in order to buy food and play games, anyway, so…..he had no good excuse!

For some reason, Chooch always thinks this is a sign for a ride.  

It pains me to admit this, but my motion-sickness tolerance is even more unpredictable than ever this year. Normally, I’m good on  the Tilt-a-Whirl, but at Delgrosso’s last month, I almost puked on it. So I smartly avoided the Tilt-a-Whirl at Waldameer. However, I did go on the Swings almost as soon as we arrived, because it was one of the few rides that was already running. I admittedly haven’t been on the Swings in any park in the last several years because I was starting to lose enjoyment for it. But I decided to give it a shot and was pleasantly surprised! I didn’t get sick at all, and I was even able to enjoy the beautiful view of Lake Erie.

So I stupidly allowed myself to believe that I was cured of spinny-ride syndrome, and later rode the Spider with Chooch, upon which the color immediately drained from my face and I limply flopped around in the seat like a dying flounder. The ride operator must have noticed that he had a potential puker on his  hands, because even though we were the last ones to board, we were the first ones off. And the ride seemed curiously short, too. Henry was waiting for us on a bench, and just shook his head smugly when he saw me shuffling toward my death bed. I spent the next 15 minutes with a cold bottle of water pressed against my neck, sitting as still as I could on the bench and begging my eyeballs to stop darting around in their sockets. Henry and Chooch went off to play games and when I was finally able to rejoin them, I found myself spending an unusually large amount of time admiring the (safe, still, unmoving) landscape. Statues! Flowerbeds! Topiaries! Things I never gave a shit about before.

Over by the go-carts, Henry overheard a conversation between a white trash mom, her son, and his girlfriend. I guess the son was telling his girlfriend that all of the little kids in line with them were his siblings and he said, “Can you believe all those kids dropped out of my mom’s hole?” and then the mom bragged about not even having any stretch marks and lifted her shirt all of the way up to prove it.

Happy Father’s Day, Henry!  

Henry’s favorite part of the day: walking alone.

By the end of the day, we wore Henry down and got him to ride the Ravine Flyer II with us! (Oh, and if you’re wondering what happened to the Ravine Flyer I, apparently some dude died on it a long time ago and it was torn down and II was built in its place. Good to know!)

One of the young ride attendants was super enthusiastic and made us all give him a high-five on the way off the ride, and HENRY ACTUALLY DID IT! Dare I say, Henry might have actually had a little fun that day. I mean, he got to eat a soft pretzel; warm, candied almonds; a snickerdoodle (his favorite cookie!); and he got to waste more of Chooch’s college fund on games. Sounds like a pretty fulfilling Father’s Day, if you ask me.

[PS: Chooch wants me to tell you that he found out the next day via Instagram that his girlfriend Cassie was at KENNYWOOD on Father’s Day. “THE ONE TIME WE DONT GO!” he wailed.]

Please get your back thrown on this Thursday to a repost of my interview with Henry regarding his day at Warped Tour in 2011 because Warped Tour is exactly two weeks away and I honestly can’t focus on anything else right now, good lord.

Ahhhhhh! Old Folk approaching! Hide your hard candy!

Have you ever wondered what Warped Tour is like for a super old man who shuns fun and is the Poster Elder for “surly”? You’re in luck because my very own, personal Old Man let me ask him some questions about his day spent outside in 95+ degree heat surrounded by machine-gun drumming and exploding-node screaming.

But he had this girl by his side, so how terrible could it have been, right?

(RIGHT!?)

Erin, pen in hand: Why do you wear a bandanna to Warped Tour? Is it because you think it makes you look hard? (Because it doesn’t.)

Henry, sitting next to me on the couch and glaring: Because it was hot. [Thinks deeper.] And it keeps the hair out of my eyes.

Erin: So does a hair cut.

I really believe he wears a bandanna because he feels like it will repel scene kids. Like if they see some dildo approaching them with a cotton condom fastened around his head, they’ll think he’s security or a member of a biker gang, when meanwhile he drives a Ford Focus and looks like the treasurer of a washed-up Village People fan club.

Erin, pressing the issue because I know people care about Henry’s head toppings: And how do you decide what color to wear?

Henry, mumbling as he works the TV remote: Whatever matches what shirt I’m wearing.

Erin: Now did you learn that on the “Blue-Collared Beverage Warehouse Manager” episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy?

Henry, actually looking away from the TV for the first time since this writer has been asking questions: What? What the fuck are you talking about? [One corner of his mouth tugged up a bit, which constitutes as a SMILE in the world of bearded douchebags.]

Erin: Is it true you bought a graphic tee at Target specifically for Warped Tour so you’d fit in better and joke-block me of non-descript t-shirt fodder?

Henry: No. I didn’t buy ANYTHING for Warped Tour. [Scrunches up face in irritation, which most people would take as the universal visage for constipation.]

This is a complete lie. He bought sun screen and individually-wrapped prunes.

Henry, reaching in his Old Man Cargo Shorts for an individually-wrapped prune. Note his expression: It never changed.

Erin: What was your favorite band of the day.

Henry: [LONG PAUSE. I thought he was thinking but really was watching Good Eats.]

Erin: [Stabbed him in the ribs with elbow.]

Henry: What?! [Notices me scribbling down my own answer on his behalf.] What are you writing? Don’t write Dance Gavin Dance, because it wasn’t.

This means it was Blood on the Dance Floor. Scantily-clad scene posers get him every time. Jeffree Star and all that.

Erin: Speaking of Dance Gavin Dance, what are your thoughts on them?

Henry: I don’t HAVE any thoughts on Dance Gavin Dance.

Maybe not, but he definitely dreams about them considering their last album is on constant repeat in the bedroom.

Erin: Not even on Jonny Craig?

Henry: Jonny Craig is a douchebag.

Erin: If you had to spend money at one merch booth, which would it be?

Henry: [Seriously considering for entirely too long.]

Me, noticing the small puff-shapes his lips are making: Hello! You’re falling asleep!

Henry, jolting at my shrill voice: No, I was thinking. And the thinking is putting me to sleep. [I have to repeat the question.] It would probably be what you want since I get no say in anything.

What he meant to say was, “The first merch booth we come across that has booty shorts in my size. I hope it’s Blood on the Dance Floor or Black Veil Brides!”

Henry’s “I ain’t got my dentures in & I just spent the last of your money on a Powerade” face.

Erin: How disappointed were you that Craig Owens (singer for D.R.U.G.S.) darkened his hair?

Henry: A little disappointed.

It was the FIRST THING he noticed when Craig came out on stage.

Erin: Does that make him less attractive to you?

Henry: No.

OMG that means he’s attracted to him in the first place.

Erin: Why wouldn’t you stand near me during Of Mice & Men? Was it because you didn’t want to get your face melted off?

Henry: Too many kids around me.

Lies. Here are my top 3 reasons why Henry took 87 giant steps back away from the crowd:

1. He didn’t want his pedophilia to be that transparent.
2. He doesn’t love me enough/have enough upper body strength to keep bodies from falling on my head, which won’t matter if he’s a million feet away from me.
   
3. He’s embarrassed to be seen too close to me. (Because I cry during shows, but mostly because I’m ugly.)

Erin: When you saw that girl pass out right before Set Your Goals, why didn’t you spring into action? Isn’t that what they taught you in THE SERVICE or were you too busy trying to look like Erik Estrada instead of attending all the Be a Hero seminars?

Henry: [For real sleeping.]

Erin: [Repeats question, and by that I mean I kneed him in the nuts.]

Henry: [Started to “think,” then fell back asleep.]

Erin: HENRY, PLEASE!

Henry, waking up abruptly: I don’t know! Because there were already people “springing into action!”

Or! Because he left his balls with his ex-wife.

Someone for Henry to share his prunes with!

Erin: Any tips for other elders attending Warped Tour? And don’t say, “Don’t go.”

Henry, about to say “don’t go.”: Damn. Bring plenty of money so you don’t have to drink tap water. Leave your girlfriend at home.

Erin: And don’t forget your joint cream.

Henry, forgetting that he’s like 80 years old: What do I need my joint cream for?

Erin: What was your favorite part of Warped Tour and don’t say leaving.

Henry: But that was my favorite part. Probably watching all the people run when it started to rain even though they were in bathing suits.

Translation: Watching all the wet under-age girls run in bathing suits. See? Warped Tour’s not all that bad!

Erin: Least favorite?

Henry, with no hesitation: The heat.

Erin: What heat? Don’t men of your blue-collared ilk spend their childhood summers working in my rich relative’s yards for milk money? You should be acclimated to the heat by now.

Henry: Whatever, asshole.

Erin: If (Warped Tour founder) Kevin Lyman named a stage after you, what bands would you demand be on the lineup? And don’t say Judas Priest.

Henry: I don’t know.

Ew, I hate when he says that. Especially when his voice cracks in irritation like he’s some pissed off Peter fucking Brady.

Erin: Henry, I will kick you in the nuts.

Henry, clearly peaced out from the interview process like a little prissy Girl Scout: I don’t know what bands I would have!

This means he’s too embarrassed to admit to the Internet that it would be Creed, Nickelback, whatever nü-metal bands are still together, and a Carpenters cover band.

Erin: Are you looking forward to next year’s Warped Tour?

Henry: I never look forward.

****

Thank you for reading this lame interview. Clearly I need to find more interesting subjects. You suck, Henry. Learn some words!

I didn’t want to wait until #mcm (MAN CRUSH MONDAY) to post this, so let’s pretend like today is #fgf (FAVORITE GUY FRIDAY).

When I first started dating Henry, I was 21 and he was 35. A LOT of people were like, “Ha-ha, say goodbye to your life. Have fun listening to country music and drinking IC Light.” Because that’s what all 35-year-old men do? And I guess I was a little worried at first, because I loved road-tripping for concerts back then. My friend Wonka and I would drive all over to see our favorite band at the time, Cold. In the first few months we were together, Cold was playing in Hershey, PA and Wonka wanted to go. I was worried that Henry would be like, “YOU ARE NOT DRIVING THAT FAR AWAY WITH ANOTHER MAN.” But Henry understood even then how much these things meant to me, and he was OK with me going.

(I mean, I totally would have still went anyway because that’s the kind of selfish, arrogant, solipsistic fucking bitch that I am!)

But then Wonka started dating the future mother of his children, and our roadtrips came to an end. I had no idea that Henry would ever want to do these things with me, because I was so used to having completely separate lives from every boyfriend I ever had. But by that May, there we were, driving to Wisconsin to see Cold. And there have been many, many more concert-spurned road trips since then, whether he liked it or not!

Wednesday night, I was watching music videos on YouTube, because that’s just what I do, when Henry said, “Look.” He was holding up his phone to show me that this year’s Riot Fest line up was finally announced. I ran over and snatched his phone from him and immediately started freaking out because FAITH NO MORE. I had a feeling that they were going to be there so my eyes were blind to everything else on the list but that for the first ten minutes. And then the more I looked at the lineup, the more I freaked out. THE NOSTALGIA FACTOR IS OFF THE FUCKING CHARTS.

I started freaking the fuck out and chanting PLEASE CAN WE GO PLEASE CAN WE GO PLEASE CAN WE GO CAN WE CAN WE CANWECANWECANWE over and over but I was pretty sure the answer was going to be no because we kind of broke the bank when we went last year. But you know, I’m immature, head-in-the-clouds Erin and I don’t think about things like RENT and GROCERIES and BILLS. I was just about reaching Veruca Salt levels of brattiness when Henry got up from the couch in a huff and said, “Don’t start!” So I sat there, staring at the lineup and crying because these are things I cry about, when I got a text from Henry, who was in the kitchen. IT WAS A SCREENSHOT OF THE TICKET CONFIRMATION OMG CAN I KEEP THIS MAN FOREVER?! I guess he knew for awhile that going again was inevitable, so he was prepared.

And it’s a good thing, because I’ve had the days requested off from work since January.

I know I bitch about him being a killjoy a lot, but even though he really doesn’t like these things at all, he still does them because he is an A+ kind of guy. And I am super lucky to be with someone who maybe doesn’t  share the same passion for music as I do, but he understands that it is a necessity for me, like food and water. I crave this stuff! I can’t tell you how many times I have gone back and looked at pictures from last year’s Riot Fest because it puts me in a good mood. That weekend was so close to perfection, and I can’t wait to do it all over again with my frowning sidekick! #blessed

(Snoop Dogg is performing Doggystyle in its entirety. My 1994-self is FUCKING FANNING HERSELF with her Snoop lyric-doodled science folder.)

I am going to be so nice to him for the next several days months. Take all the naps you want, Big Guy!

***

I can’t wait for another 3-days’ worth of frowns! 

So yeah, naysayers: 14 years later and I’m having fun listening to whatever music I want while Henry drinks craft beer.