OMG, it’s Friday and I have some shit to get off my chest. TGFB (thank God for blogging?).

FIVE:

My friend Alex is hosting another Pittsburgh Guest Blogging thingie on April 1st and I stupidly signed up for it and now I’m all stressed out because I have no idea what to write, as usual. What should I write about!? My hopes and dreams? Places in Brookline where you MIGHT not find a discarded hypodermic needle? That time I robbed graves? Who even knows. I looked at the list of participants and naturally I only know 1% of the list because I’m a blogging recluse, and that gives me this weird Internet stage fright. Part of me is saying, “Try to be a normal person, Erin. Write something without swearing, Erin. MAKE SENSE FOR ONCE, ERIN.”

So, I’m going to leave it up to you: what should I ramble on about for my guest post on some poor man’s blog? Please, someone tell me before I ask Craigslist or call a party line.

FOUR:

ANDREA had to go and get me all worked up the other night by instigating my hatred for Alaska. She might be the worst BFF I’ve ever had! Now I’m all stressed out again. I feel like the climax of my life is going to be where Henry drugs me and when I wake up, he finally proposes to me then and in the same breath he’s all like, “SURPRISE YOU’RE IN ALASKA!” and then I fall off some disgusting Alaskan cliff into a sea of sickening glaciers because, why wouldn’t I?  That’s my life.

THREE:

Something happened to Chooch’s finger at some point yesterday. I know this because as soon as I got in the car last night after work, Chooch was basically passed out on the backseat from loss of imaginary blood, whining, “OW MY FINGER” every time the car hit a pot hole. (Which is a lot. This is Pittsburgh.) I didn’t bother to ask what happened because HI I HAVE MY OWN PROBLEMS.

He came downstairs at 11:00PM while Henry and I were watching The Returned (which is a FRENCH TV show so there could be nudity at any given moment) and started whining about needing another Bandaid and I ignored him because Henry was there so…get the fuck up and bandage your son, motherfucker.

This morning, it was apparently still an issue? WTF happened to my kid’s finger?! Apparently not all that much. According to Henry, it’s only a hangnail wound. But you would have thought the entire thing had been blown off by a grenade the way he was carrying on every time his finger touched the water this morning! And then the whole way to school, he was making this anguished face and dry-crying, which is so annoying to me because obviously I’m the only person who can pull that off, and I kept begging him to stop looking like that in case god forbid someone sitting in traffic mistook it as abuse. So I kept trying to put my arm around him to comfort him (OVER A FUCKING HANG NAIL) and he was all, “OW! GET OFF ME! OW!” So I snapped and said, “For Christ’s sake, there is no way that hurts that bad! I get paper cuts almost everyday and I don’t run around acting like that….oh. Never mind.”

I gave him an extra maternal hug when we got to the school, making sure the principal saw, too, because I didn’t maim my kid’s fingertip, OK?!

A short reprieve from incessant bitching. Thank god for teeth to brush.

TWO:

My friend Wendy is a Stella & Dot…consultant? Stylist? She sells jewelry. It’s a pretty fun line—if not severely lacking in rings with teeth and Jonny Craig’s face beneath resin—and I’ve been promising her that I would host a party, so I’m finally doing that in two weeks. Today at work, we sat down in her office to create the Facebook event thing, which she wrote and I kept saying, “Please don’t write that…everyone is going to know I didn’t write this….”‘redefine her style sessions’? What does that even mean!?” At least the event name is “Henry’s Stella and Dot Trunk Show” and she listened to me when, after she typed the line “my friend Wendy,” I told her to put quotes around the word “friend.”

It was really hard for me to sit there and watch Wendy create this event on my behalf because I’m such a control freak (only over weird things though; nothing important). My style is just a little more biting and derisive than hers; the way she wrote it made it sound like I was actually being nice to my friends and excited to see them, like “come on by and share some laughs!” WTF. I don’t want to share my laughs. Those are mine. Get your own. I kept thinking, “OK, here’s where I would have said something terrible about Janna. And right here is where I would have used some outdated LOLspeak and an obscure pop culture reference. OK, she emasculated Henry at least.”

I kind of wanted to write the party info as a free-style gangsta rap about how there are 99 ways to wear a scarf and around a dead man’s dick might be one.

I’m afraid this could be the gateway into harder hostess parties, like I might wake up one day and crave crudités and Tupperware towers. And you know what comes next. Reading cookbooks. Gross.

ONE:

CARROT CAKE M&M’S. Big ups to my friends Monica and Chris for the hook-up. Henry and I couldn’t find them anywhere but then Monica was all, “They’re on my dining room table, duh.” She bought an extra bag and gave it to Chris to bring to work for me and I ate almost half the bag right away. IT TASTES JUST LIKE CARROT CAKE. The M&Ms. Not the bag. So now I’m desperate to buy all of the bags before they go away since they’re just an Easter novelty, waiting to go back to heaven with Jesus. :(

I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do when they’re gone, that’s how empty my life is right now.

Apologies for the capslock abuse, my people. I’m losing my mind. You know how I know for sure? I ALMOST TYPED “LOOSING.”

Every damn day.

• Today, I feel alive. I can’t think of a better way to describe it; but the sun was out and it was balmy AND FRIDAY ON TOP OF ALL THAT. Plus everyone at work was in a super good mood because basically everyone had Really Exciting Plans after work. You know, everyone except us late shift people. But whatever, at least I got a free lunch today.
• I got a free lunch today! Some of us went to Penn Ave Fish Company with the two Australians and the department boss ended up coming along too and she generously picked up the tab. It was exciting for me because I ordered a salmon sandwich, and when the waitress asked me how I wanted it done, I knew to say “medium” because that’s how Henry answers that question on my behalf. Then my co-worker Cheryl was asked the same question and was like, “What do you mean? I want it cooked” and then proceeded to talk for another 5 minutes about how she’s never been asked that and I was internally gloating because duh.
• I watched the first episode of season 2 of Hannibal today and realized that I somehow missed the last episode of season 1 because I was pretty fucking lost. <–I’M SO INTERESTING!
  • You know what else I watched this week? (OMG TV TALK!) I watched “Those Who Kill” which apparently has received abysmal reviews but I actually really liked it and not just because it was filmed in Pittsburgh, which I hadn’t even heard about until recently when I saw an article where Chloe Sevigny was raving about Pittsburgh. “I had no idea she was here!” I cried to Henry. “Yeah, I can’t believe she didn’t call you,” he mumbled. And then I asked him if he knew she was an intern for Sassy back in the day and he was like, “Why the fuck would I know that?” And I can’t believe I just typed so many sentences about her because honestly, I don’t really care about her either way. But I thought that show was good, so if you want to see what my dumb city looks like, you should watch it. It’s on A&E Monday nights after Bates Motel, word.

Every damn night.

•  For some reason, a lot of people at work this week asked me what I’m doing for St. Patrick’s Day. Because of my dumb name, I guess. (I’m not even Irish!) I don’t celebrate St. Patrick’s Day because of the time my step-dad threw a fork at me on St. Patrick’s Day. But instead of getting into some awkward yarn about abuse, I just told everyone that I was scarred from all the years of being made fun of for Erin Go “Bra.” (Except for Barb; she got the real story. It happened so long ago that I actually laugh when I tell it now but Barb had this horrified expression on her face. For some reason, that made me laugh harder.)

My Stern Profile (& Eyebrow Piercing Scar)

•  Every morning, I check the weather before Chooch and I step out into the shitty winter world. Yesterday’s weather didn’t seem too bone-chilling, so I told Chooch he could ditch the hat and gloves for once. And then we started walking and OMGCOLD. Our cheeks were red by the time we made it to school and I said, “I swear when I checked the weather, it said it was like 29 degrees!” “THAT WAS PROBABLY THE HIGH!” Chooch yelled at me. God, then check the weather yourself next time!!!
• Speaking of Chooch, I got him to agree to do a bi-monthly “Consulting Chooch” guest post, where he will answer questions and give life advice.
•   Last night, Henry and I were watching the hockey game when I shouted, “I KNOW WHAT I’M PAINTING NEXT! A sundae.” Henry mumbled, “Ok.” I went on to say, “But instead of a cherry, there’s going to be A NIPPLE on top!” Henry groaned. “No! It’s going to be black person’s nipple, with some of the skin still around it so it looks like chocolate syrup,” I added, actually crying at this point. “You’re disgusting,” Henry spat.
  • After painting an ice cream cone with teeth in it to add to the eyeball-laden cherry pie and my upcoming Fudge Nipple Sundae, I decided that this particular series of paintings should be called “From the Kitchen of Jeffrey Dahmer.” I’m pretty stoked on it.

Chooch finally got to bring home the “Self-Portrait” he did at school last fall and that motherfucker went right into a frame. I MEAN, LOOK AT IT. It’s so weird, so Chooch.

• The other night, my eyes accidentally looked at a headline that said Kim Kardashian is the Marilyn Monroe of our time. Am I dead?
• Sunday afternoon, Chooch came over to the couch and casually asked, “So…you watching the Oscars tonight? I heard Ellen is hosting again.” Um…no, and also, who are you? I guess people were chatting about it on Minecraft? I didn’t have to watch the Oscars anyway, because 3/4 of my Facebook feed and also my CNN notifications (WTF?) alerted me to everything I “missed.”
  • Like all that Idina Whatsherfuck bullshit. I started to wonder if the reason I just don’t get that whole Frozen/”Let It Go” fad is because I don’t have a kid, but then I remembered I have a kid. So…
• I was excited today at lunch to finally get a chance to ask the Boy Australian about being in a band (he was very vague about it though) and then I asked him if he knows Hands Like Houses BECAUSE THEY ARE FROM CANBERRA, AUSTRALIA SO HE MUST, RIGHT? No, he hasn’t heard of them. The scene kid in me says we can’t be friends, but the quasi-grown-up in me says to maybe give him another chance. He seems nice enough. I like the Girl One too! She is really cute and laughs a lot. I wonder if she goes into the bathroom and blogs about all the dumb things she hears Barb say all day long, though.
• Henry cleaned out my closet the other night (literally, I mean. I still have tons of metaphorical skeletons in my psychic closet, don’t worry) and kept texting me pictures of all the embarrassing shit he was finding, because my closet is essentially my childhood bedroom stuffed into a bunch of boxes. Like a petition I started in 8th grades when Jason Jones wouldn’t go out with me because “skaters don’t date wiggers” and I was like “OMG I am not a wigger” even though I totally was, I just used different names for it because that word is so fucking offensive. Meanwhile, Jason was really just trying to find a nice way of saying, “I don’t want to date you because you’re fat and have braces, but worst of all, YOU ARE REALLY FUCKING OBNOXIOUS.” Because I really was. Not anymore, though, right guys?
  • One night, Jason came up in conversation and I was telling Henry about how he left my school to go to [Insert Pittsburgh All Boys School] but I couldn’t find him on Facebook, and Henry was all, “Uh, did you try searching for “Jason Jones/[Insert Pittsburgh All Boys School]” AND BINGO, I FOUND HIM. Henry is the best stalker-partner. Anyway, BULLET DODGED for real. He’s weird-looking now. I think he probably was back then, too, honestly.

LOOK WHAT ELSE HENRY FOUND! A creepy nude painting that my death row pen pal Greg made for me in 2004! Henry was just as disgruntled about it this time around too, because “STOP GIVING PRISONERS PICTURES OF US!” I don’t know if I should be scared or 100% flattered that Greg had to imagine me naked in order to paint this. Don’t answer that.

• I feel like I should end on that note. How do you come back from that? You don’t.

 I really like doing these weekly bullet point posts, you guys. IT HELPS ME GET SOME SHIT OFF MY CHEST.

Eating a sopapilla at El Campesino. He’s obsessed with sopapillas ever since the time I randomly started shouting,”SOPAPILLA” in an Italian accent. Yes, I know sopapillas are Spanish, thanks.

• There is this lady that we see every morning on the walk to school and she is just the worst. Really miserable and rude to us, so we have ceased trying to eke a “good morning” from her. This particular lady walks with a cane, though it remains to be seen if she actually needs it (Henry thinks that she doesn’t). Chooch always wants to say something disparaging when we pass her, like the day when he overheard her talking to another parent and just about lost his mind because she won’t talk to US but she’ll talk to someone else? (Someday, he will understand it’s because we are the Brookline pariahs.) Anyway, I decided that we needed a nickname for her, because up until then we had just been calling her Cane Lady, which just isn’t nice, even though she is a Lady with a Cane. So I decided we should call her Candy, short for Candy Cane. It’s ironic because she is THE OPPOSITE OF SWEET, YOU GUYS. We had an encounter with her the other day, so Chooch said loudly, “THE LADY WITH THE CANE THAT WE CALL CANDY IS OVER THERE BY THAT CAR!” I had to smother him with my mittened hand and explain to him that HELLO that negates the whole point of a nickname. Later, I was telling Henry about this and how I chose the name “Candy” so we wouldn’t be obvious. “Yeah,” he said in a sigh steeped in sarcasm. “Because you two are NEVER obvious.”

My new favorite My Pretty Zombie eyeshadow: Celery & Bile!!

• There are two people from Australia being trained here at the Pittsburgh office for a few weeks, so that’s exciting. Whenever new people are hired in our department (which has a branch in Melbourne now), one of the managers will send an email telling us a little bit about that person. That’s how I learned a few weeks ago that the one Australian apparently was in A BAND and toured BRAZIL. Naturally, this appeals to me. When I saw the two Australians for the first time on Monday, I thought to myself, “Wow, the boy one really looks familiar” and then it occurred to me that this was because I had Googled him extensively to find out if he was in a cool band or something dumb (I didn’t find out, but I did see a picture of him drumming with long hair). I can’t wait to ask him if he likes Hands Like Houses (they are Australian!)! But that requires “talking to someone new” and I’m not sure I’m up for that.

There was a truck idling in front of our house and Marcy was trying to send it to Hell with her eyes.

• My friend Brandy is on her way to a Foreigner concert as I write this, and it inspired me to listen to them tonight at work, because I do love a good Foreigner jam. However, the volume was all the way up on my phone, so when I turned on the Spotify playlist, Foreigner came rocketing out of the speakers with no warning and I got all flustered and almost fell out of my chair as I struggled to turn it down even though it’s late shift at The Law Firm and no one is even around my office. I initially felt embarrassed for listening to Foreigner, but then I got over it because maybe I AM waiting for a girl like you.

Kendahl made me take a picture of my nails with candy. She’s going to be making her own nail polish and I can hardly wait!!

• My brother Corey and I are planning a trip together for late 2014/early 2015 and I’m beyond excited but also a little nervous because it’s me and Corey. The furthest we’ve ever gone on a trip together is Philly and we had to call Henry a thousand times for directions. I can’t believe Henry is “letting” me do this. He even found my passport for me. Wait. I think I see where this is going….
• Tomorrow I’m going to attempt to ice skate for the first time since I was 15. I sucked at it when I was 15, so this should be extremely dangerous and painful.

• A security guard just walked past my seemed pleased to hear “Jukebox Hero” playing. A live version, no less.
• The apples I’ve had this week have only been so-so.
• Today when Henry was driving me to work, he was forced to stop kind of far out at a red light. It was either stop with the front end of the car jutting out into the cross walk or run the light. Of course this happened just in time for some dumb bitch in a stupid white parka to cross the street in front of us and then make this dramatic “Now I have to walk a few inches to the right to get around your car” motion with her arms, followed by a “pushing back your car” mime. Then she SMILED AT US AND WAVED AND IT WAS TOTALLY SARCASTIC. Friends, the blood rushed to my face. I wanted to jump out of the car and charge after her, tackle her and smear mud on her shitty white parka. “LOOK AT HOW SMUGLY SHE WALKS!” I screamed at Henry, who had already moved past the incident and was trying to find Ted Nugent on the radio. It honestly ruined my afternoon. Especially because that’s totally the type of pedestrian I am, too. Ugh. I hate myself.
• Another Fitness Challenge is going to be happening here at The Law Firm in a few weeks and I am so stoked! My team this time is Debbie S., Chris and Nate and we are going to kill it. I hope.

I painted this today and Henry said when he saw it on Facebook, he thought it was a picture I got from the Internet because he has no faith in my artistic disabilities. I was offended for about 5 minutes until Andrea was all, “I WANT TO BUY THIS BEFORE SOME OTHER ASSHOLE DOES” so there, Henry. I have prints of it available on Etsy just in case anyone cares.

• Apparently my threshhold for Foreigner is 20 minutes so now I’m listening to my beloved 1980’s darkwave channel.
• Somehow soap got in my Smart Ones.
• You guys, I really have nothing else going on. This winter has been terrible as far as “doing things” goes and my mental stamina is at an all time low. And it’s going to get worse before it gets better, apparently. I have a ton of shit lined up for March, and none of those things better get fucked up by snow, that’s for sure.

Peace out, Girl Scout.

It’s Tuesday. Here is a blog post of no importance or actual substance. So basically, the usual.

• Went to Eat n Park with these dum-dums on Saturday, after patronizing the Castle Blood Valentine’s show (more on that later this week). I was watching Chooch at the salad bar and it was cracking me up so bad. Obviously he skips the lettuce and essentially every vegetable, because he’s 7 with horrible parents, but observing his serious concentration over the other offerings was almost too much. After piling his plate full of plain pasta, croutons, and chick peas, I watched as he dumped three heaping servings of shredded cheese on top of it all. And then, when he thought no one was looking, he went back for fourths. (Henry was too busy at the other end of the salad bar, loading up on pickled shit.)

Chooch sings Katy Perry songs because he knows how much I hate her and he is just that mean. We were cracking up in unison over something that Henry deemed inappropriate (could have been anything, really); Henry was trying to silence us with his Dad Eyes (yeah, good luck), and this of course made Chooch nearly vomit, so he excused himself to run off to the bathroom. When he came back, he said, “And by the way, I laughed so hard in the bathroom, that I puked.”

“Was anyone else in there!?” I laughed.

“No,” Chooch said wistfully. “I wish.”

And so we started cracking up all over again, which made Henry sigh and my stomach ache.

• Henry’s mom, back when she was in Van Halen. I cannot stop laughing at this picture! Henry said it was from around 1983, before he went to THE SERVICE. She is probably not smiling in any photo taken of her during the time he was IN THE SERVICE. She still recounts those days as though he had gone off to Vietnam.
• It snowed again last night/this morning so Chooch’s school was closed.
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  This is how I felt earlier today thanks to More Snow:

• But then this happened:

And I died at my desk. I DIED AT MY FUCKING DESK. Those are three of my favorite bands, on tour together. Cleveland, I will be all up in you on May 21st. (Already requested off work since my proposal of working a normal shift was denied and I will apparently just have to continue to request off every time I plan on going to a show.)

2014 might suck already for a plethora of reasons, but at least there are some good goddamn shows in my future. (Dance Gavin Dance is also going on tour in May!) I’m so excited to hear the new Emarosa album, that it is almost consuming my thoughts.

Hope comes in small doses sometimes.

• And with that, I leave you with a picture of some paper Chooch filled out for school.
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  It seems that I have lost a large chunk of my memory in which Henry married me and then I gave birth in Rome. Not shown: Chooch’s desire to fix the future (“Free iPads for everyone”) and his favorite food (“almond Hershey Kisses,” which is news to me).

• Henry said something kind of sweet to me today! I had just finished the most recent episode of Warped Roadies (it’s about Warped Tour roadies, you guys, in case you couldn’t tell) and it was heartbreaking. They do this thing called Living the Dream where they bring a terminally ill kid to Warped Tour and give them the VIP treatment. Kind of like an alternative Make a Wish, I guess. Anyway, this 29-year-old girl with some type of Stage 5 cancer just wanted to go to one last Warped Tour, so it was arranged that she and her husband were going to go and get to hang out with her favorite band The Summer Set (Chooch’s #2 band!), but then she FUCKING DIED a few days before it came to her town, UGH WTF IS THIS WORLD WE LIVE IN, I HATE YOU. Her husband decided that he would still go, just to honor her wish, and Henry said he would have done the same thing! As long as a Jonny Craig meet n’ greet wasn’t included, which I think is reasonable. Can you imagine, Henry going to Warped Tour even if I was dead? That would be the ultimate symbol of his unwavering devotion. So today, I like Henry.
• I also just finished reading “The Fault In Our Stars” so I’m really on a FUCK CANCER kick lately.
• You know how that man got shot and killed at the movie theater the other day all because he was texting his kid? That scares the fucking shit out of me. That is why when there is a disgusting asshole who is sitting behind me on the trolley, performing a snot symphony with his nose, I choose to clench my teeth and stare out the window, looking for Jonny Craig’s face in a cloud to grant me serenity. And then when people gasp and say, “That’s unacceptable, I would have punched him in the face, why didn’t you punch him in the face?” I just laugh. Because my luck, he would go from expelling snot at my head to expelling a bullet at my head. And even though I complain about my face a lot, I think I would hate it even more if it was completely blown off.  I think about all of the times in the past I’ve run my mouth in public, like the time I got in a heated verbal altercation with some drunk asshole at the House of Blues in Cleveland;  I think about the time in the high school when Janna pleaded with me to stop shouting at people from the car because I was going to get my head shot off (it’s on video, these exact words), and how fucking lucky I am that nothing ever escalated to the point of a weapon being drawn.  So I will continue to sit quietly and be submissive in this fucked up world of guns and knee-jerk violence.
• Chooch and I have gotten stuck walking to school with a neighbor-kid, and it’s not that I don’t like neighbor-kid except that I don’t like neighbor-kid. Mostly because he’s a kid. Anyway, it’s just annoying because I know that his parents couldn’t be arsed to walk MY kid to school if I needed them to, but whatever.  Instead of talking to them about it—because again: this is how people get their faces shot off—Chooch and I decided that we would just do the mature thing and attempt to dodge him. Some mornings it works. Some, not so much. I think he watches us from his window with binoculars. The other day, we avoided him, but on my way back, I happened to see him walking with his dad; they were still a few blocks away, so I once again did the mature thing and turned down another road so I wouldn’t have to walk past them. I figured I would just loop around and get back on the main road again after they had already passed, except what I didn’t account for was the fact that the roads get all weird and intersect-y back there so it took me kind of a long time to make my way back around, running in the rain under a heavy umbrella while panting a play-by-play to Henry over the phone to his canned responses of, “You’re an asshole. You’re retarded. You’re an idiot. Good for you.” Anyway, by the time I made it back around to the main road, I thought for sure that the dad would be on his way back from the school so I skidded to a halt at the corner of the sidewalk and peered to my right to see if he was coming. I was in the clear! But exactly as I went to turn left onto the main street, I noticed that HE WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! I didn’t want to walk the rest of the way home behind him, because his house comes before mine so he would see me when he turned down his sidewalk, so I turned back onto the street I came off on and walked a ridiculously long way home along the street behind our houses just so I wouldn’t have to run into him. It was completely stupid. Yet extremely satisfying. Because, VICTORY.
  • Yesterday, we got busted and had to walk with neighbor-kid, who started a pissing match with me over who has seen more horror movies and I was like, “ARE WE REALLY DOING THIS RIGHT NOW OK FINE!” Chooch just kept sighing sadly by my side, but I couldn’t stop until I got in the last dig, you guys. You know me. I just couldn’t stop. Finally, n-k was like, “Well, have you seen Hex on Syfy?” and I said YES EVEN THOUGH I HAVEN’T WHAT HAS MY LIFE COME TO. I don’t even know what Hex is. Is it even a real thing?  I was so stressed out after this. Oh and now suddenly he watches The Walking Dead but last time Chooch asked him he said no and this time he was like, “I’ve been watching it since it started” and I bet he doesn’t even understand it. UGH KIDS.
  • Today, I was going to pretend like I broke my pelvis just to see if his dad would walk them both for once, like I was going to roll myself down the porch steps and see if the parents would even notice, but Chooch was like, “Let’s just go, please, this is bullshit who cares.” Anyway, n-k’s dad was outside letting his dog pee, and I thought we were in the clear because n-k was nowhere around, like maybe his mom had actually walked him or something or he had fallen ill with Lyingabouthorrormoviesitis. But then the dad turned his head up the street and screamed, “HEY [KID’S NAME]! COME BACK! THEY’RE RIGHT HERE!” and that is how I found out that he was going to walk to school alone so now I have mom-guilt. And then the dad thanked me profusely and was all, “He just loves walking with you guys!” Obviously because I’m awesome and kids fucking love me. So I was sort of nice to him this morning, because like my Voice of Reason (aka Henry) said: You don’t know what his home life is like. You wouldn’t want someone to ditch YOUR kid.
    • Ugh, Henry is totally right.
    • This is the shit no one warns you about before you become a parent.
    • Just be nice, Erin.
      • And I was nice today, I swear. I even helped him tie his dumb shoe.
    • What a fantastic example I’m setting for my kid. (“We are not taking applicants for our hifalutin’ Walking 2 Skool Club!” God, I’m such a fuckhead.)
      • Besides, we’re all walking to the same place, anyway right? Sigh.
• Another totally fucked up local murder/suicide happened, which inspired a dialogue between Henry and me, which is crazy because usually we only communicate via Post-It Notes and lines in the dirt. I was saying that I couldn’t imagine doing something like that so permanent, knowing I was leaving kids behind. “Chooch is the only reason I would never murder you,” I told Henry and he was all, “Oh wow. Thanks Chooch, I guess. Nice to know that’s the only reason.” And then I got scared because what if Henry gets some gnarly brain tumor, the kind that makes a docile person do things that leaves neighbors saying to the newspaper, “But he was such a nice, quiet man.” And then this tumor makes Henry snap and kill me?! I mean come on: it would have to be a tumor, and not the fact that I pushed him over the motherfucking edge with my Chinese water torture-like brand of emasculation and staunch refusal to let the man sleep.

Let’s end this depressing post on a good note with a picture of some dino ring holders I made last night while watching the Penguins beat the Crapitals:

(I mean, I feel like these are pretty self-explanatory, but there are tutorials all over the DIY blogosphere if anyone is inclined to make their own. If I can do them 100% on my own, so can your blind cat.)

• This isn’t really a resolution, but I decided that I want to try and fulfill some sort of book-reading quota this year like some of my more literate friends do, although I’m striving for a less-lofty number. Like, 30. Which would be a big increase from 2013’s whopping THREE BOOKS. And believe me, it’s not that I don’t like to read. I used to read tons. But I’ve fallen into that “I don’t have time” mindset which is bullshit because that’s what I used to say about exercising too, and now I make sure I carve out time every day for that. My other problem is that I have a hard time staying focused. It took me three weeks to read The Night Circus last month because I kept finding myself reading the same page like five times. Luminosity, here I come! (Or, Adderall if anyone has the hookup.)
  • I’m going to make an honest effort to update my Goodreads thingie diligently and not like, once every two years like I have been. I was scrolling through it the other night, looking for books that appealed to me, when I remembered that one of my friends is always insisting that we should read things that DON’T interest us as well, but you know what? I don’t fully agree with that. My time is valuable and I hate spending it on things I don’t give a shit about. The beauty of not being in school anymore is that we DON’T have to read shit we don’t want to read. Sure, sometimes it can turn out to be a happy accident; for example, I had to read “The Things They Carried” in an English Comp class at Pitt and I hated it for the entire first quarter of it, but then it ended up being pretty good and I didn’t hate it anymore. But where I am now in life, I just don’t have the patience to stick with a book if it doesn’t grab me at LEAST by page 50. Why sit down and force yourself to push through a book that is boring and just not your thing? No thanks, I want to read things that I can get lost in. So on that note, if you want to recommend some books that you think I might like and doesn’t read like a dildo manual and isn’t some dry piece of Brit Lit (because let’s face it, I’m no scholar), then please do!
• My friend Tammy got me this ring for Christmas and I love it so much:

• The other night in bed, Henry aggressively touched my Incision (from my C-section almost 8 years ago, and YES IT STILL EXISTS OK) and I flipped my shit. “That does NOT still hurt,” Henry patronized, because he’s a woman who has had a C-section and has obviously written e-books on it. I promised him that I can still feel pain there and he gave me this big lecture about how people were made to not remember pain and I yelled, “I REMEMBER EVERYTHING ABOUT MY PREGNANCY AND I CAN STILL FEEL IT. IT’S A GIFT!” Henry sighed and said, “You don’t have a gift.” “YOU’RE RIGHT—IT’S A CURSE!” I cried and he rolled over and went to sleep, mumbling something about how thank god I didn’t have a vaginal birth. I know, right? Sexless in the USA!
• I got in a fight on Facebook a little while ago, I forgot to mention that, probably because the rage was so blinding at the time. Some girl was all upset because a substitute teacher called her kid’s friend a dum-dum and most of the comments on her status update were from men in her family telling her to stop being so fucking sensitive, blah blah blah. But it made me think about how I would feel if a teacher called my kid a dum-dum, so I commented and said that I was just wondering what the context was, because I know that I sometimes will jokingly chide my kid if he, say, does something clumsy. Like, I’ll give him a little noogie and call him a dummy, you know? WHO DOESN’T DO THAT?! But I went on to say that kids should feel safe around their teachers, so if this teacher was saying that in a berating context, then yes, I would be pissed and upset too. So this d-bag Yinzer asshole is all, “LOOK AT WHAT YOU JUST SAID. KIDS SHOULD FEEL SAFE AROUND THEIR TEACHERS BUT YOU CALL YOUR KID NAMES? SHOULDN’T THEY FEEL SAFE AROUND THEIR PARENTS TO [SIC]?!?!” and more words jumbled together in nonsensical strands, and this was after he commented and said that she was being ridiculous for being upset with the teacher because “dum-dum” isn’t a bad word, but now that I commented, he clearly changed his mind. I replied and reiterated that when I call my kid “names,” it’s in jest and it’s pretty clear that I’m not trying to insult his intelligence in anger. We have a pretty light-hearted relationship, in case you haven’t noticed. So then Yinzer continued to fight with me, insinuating that I was a shitty parent, and essentially saying the EXACT SAME THING I SAID IN MY ORIGINAL COMMENT about how it would depend on how and why the teacher was saying it, and I was like, “Are you fucking kidding me, THAT’S WHAT I SAID” but I guess it was too hard for him to understand that since it wasn’t written in the style of a Yinzer Hick Motherfucker full of typos and double negatives. God, I hate Facebook.
• On a lighter note, here’s a picture of Henry eating a pretty donut:

• Is there a list of worst TV characters of all time? Is Michelle Tanner on it?

Ciao for now!

Just some pre-Christmas thoughts, HOPE THAT’S OK.

• I’m currently wrapped in a Domo blanket and listening to some sultry club remix of The Last Unicorn theme song. Just in case you wanted to mimic me.
• It was really nice being home from work last night and having the ability to watch a Penguins game in its entirety, except that Henry was sitting next to me, gossiping about his work people and I was just like, “Bitch, don’t you have some cookies to bake?” Not like I was missing much—we lost 0-5!!
• I hate that I think about work even when I’m not there. Like this morning, I was washing the dishes and found myself wondering if there is any disgusting pee-splash on any of the toilet seats there right now. My work friend Lauren started this thing called Project P (get it? It took me awhile, too) where we try to use process of elimination to peg the culprit. But one night last week, there was so much of it on one of the seats (always on the back part!! How is this happening?!), that I was just like, “No. This is not from a woman. There is clearly a tranny amongst us.” And you know, that’s fine, but be a sweetie…

Obligatory Almost Christmas Selfie

• Janna and I took Chooch to see Gremlins at the Hollywood Theater on Sunday. (Have you seen “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”? It’s the theater the Rocky Horror Picture Show scenes were filmed in and it’s right down the street from me because I live in Awesometown.) There was this one older lady sitting near us in the balcony and she was cracking the fuck up at parts that I never really found funny (like the whole “I hate Christmas because my dad snapped his neck in a chimney while impersonating Santa” monologue that always made me horrified and sad as a kid!) and I was just sitting there thinking, “Wow, this broad REALLY likes this movie.” Anyway, one of the puppeteers was there doing a Q&A session afterward, because she’s apparently from Pittsburgh and lives one town over from me. Janna and I were stoked to stick around and hear what she had to say (she designed Gizmo, for fuck’s sake!) but Chooch was like, “Let’s go let’s go let’s go I’m bored this sucks I hate you for doing this to me you ruined my life.” Eventually, he went and laid down on a couch in the back of the balcony because this bitch ain’t gon’ be controlled by no 7-year-old. Learn ye some patience, bitch-child. And of course the puppeteer was the laughing lady, so then it made a lot more sense. After she was done talking, we went to the lobby to see the pictures she brought with her, but I got all weird and awkward like I do because I didn’t have anything to say to her and I was afraid that if I got too close to where she was standing with the photos that I would be required to say something profound. I was whispering all of my fears to Janna right when the puppeteer (her name is Valerie, I guess I could have mentioned that) interrupted someone to say to me, “I really love your purse!” So then we talked about my purse while Chooch’s head was practically spewing brain matter. Oh, how he hates when people like my purse.
  • The first time I saw “Gremlins,” I was 4 or 5 and my Aunt Sharon took me to the theater to see it. I got scared when the gremlins hatched out of those gross cocoons and started to cry so Sharon had to take me out of the theater. A few days later, I decided I wanted to go back and try again and it quickly became one of my favorite childhood movies. That summer, I was going to Wildwood, NJ with my family and Sharon had left me a present in the backseat. It said not to open until we got to Wildwood, and every time we hit a bump in the road, the box would jostle and I would hear a tiny squeak from inside. I KNEW she had bought me a mogwai. I JUST KNEW IT! I was so fucking excited to get there and open it, but it was just a Gizmo stuffed animal that made noise when it was squeezed. :(
  • I still want a fucking mogwai. The closest I’ve come was our cat Speck/Nicotina. (RIP, babe.) And Marcy will forever remind me of Stripe.
  • Chooch obviously was not scared of Gremlins at all. We have the DVD and he was probably 3 or 4 when he first saw it, and he wasn’t scared then either. Valerie was asking everyone in the audience if they thought it was too scary for kids, but I just sat there like a deaf mute because god forbid I should ever speak up and contribute to conversations.
• We finally got a Christmas tree last Friday and decorated it when I came home from work, which of course led to arguments and tears because can’t we all just get along? Apparently, no. No, we cannot. Anyway, there is nothing notable about this year’s Christmas tree, but in keeping with tradition (The Liberatree, the Obestitree, the Mediocretree, the Obscenitree), it needed a name, so behold the Last Minutetree:

Marcy hates it all.

• We’re having a small Christmas Eve soiree here tonight so Henry is elbow-deep in party food preparations right now while I lounge around blowing on my nails. What? I did my part already: I got the Beverage Buffet all set up and decorated!
• Chooch and I were talking about what we’re going to eat at our annual Christmas Picnic in the cemetery tomorrow and we were trying to remember what we ate last year. “Well, I know what I had,” Chooch said. “Tantrum-on-a-stick.” AND IT’S TRUE, TOO. He was such a little jerk-off last year during our picnic, at least he’s now acknowledging it. Hope we get Peaceful Chooch tomorrow, and not Mr. Miserable:

• You would think today was Christmas Eve by the complete lack of interest everyone has in their work. (I mean, even moreso than usual.) Earlier, I listened to my office-neighbor Patrick watch vintage Japanese video game commercials on YouTube and then spend fifteen minutes obsessing over the name Fronia, which means “gentle” in case you were considering using that on your next goldfish. Both of these tangents were somehow perpetuated by Nate, so thank you for today’s entertainment. All of this was after Nate and Patrick had a heated dispute over the office heating system.
  • While I was writing this, I couldn’t remember the name “Fronia” but thank god Nate is still here so I went over and made him stop doing actual work. “Is this for the blog?” he asked, and then after I shook my head affimatively, he said, “Well then it’s important.” Nate Knows. (Knate Knows?)
• We finally got our Christmas tree last night.
• Henry and I had lots of fights in the last week!!
  • First, we fought because I was enraged at how poorly monitored the sidewalks have been during all this hazardous weather we’ve been having. Every day last week, Chooch and I practically ice-skated to school because dumb motherfuckers don’t know how to sprinkle salt on their dumb sidewalks. EVEN ERIN RACHELLE KELLY KNOWS HOW TO DO THAT! The one day it was REALLY BAD, so bad that I nearly turned around and took Chooch home. I saw numerous kids fall! I almost fell! On my way home, some mom had to take my hand and help me step off the curb that was coated in slick, solid ice and onto the street. I came home and screamed to Henry about it and he calmly said, “Well, people have 24 hours after it storms to shovel.” I countered with the fact that it had been like this for days and he was all, “Well, that’s because it keeps snowing, melting and then freezing.” LIKE IT AIN’T NO THANG. Oh, that’s because HE doesn’t have to walk—EVER. “I hope I break my face open,” I threatened. “And then I’m going to sue Brookline. No, I’m going to sue the entire city of Pittsburgh!” And Henry was all, “Good luck, you can’t sue them. It’s the home owners.” So I said I would sue the homeowner and he was all, “Good luck, they have 24 hours to shovel.” GO FUCK YOURSELF AND YOUR LAW KNOWLEDGE! I need to look into this, I think. Maybe there’s a lawyer here at the Law Firm that specializes in sidewalk maintenance ordinances.
    • THAT IS ALL ICE IN THAT PICTURE BELOW!! This particular stretch of pedestrian property belongs to some Yinzer sloth who sits on her front porch every morning slurping coffee out of her Stillers mug, sucking on a Newport, and BARKING DRAMA INTO HER PHONE. She was sitting there when I took this picture too and she can fuck right off, hopefully on her ass while sliding down her icy sidewalk. Yinzer cunt.
• 
  • Then Saturday morning we had a fight because I said Katy Perry sings like someone with Down Syndrome, because I’m sorry, but she’s terrible. AND I DON’T HATE POP MUSIC SO DON’T GIVE ME SHIT ABOUT HOW I’M A BEING A MUSIC SNOB. I like Lady Gaga and Ke$ha just fine. I just have very strong opinions about Katy Perry and I’m, to this day, baffled at how she was able to dupe the music industry. “That’s really mean,” Henry argued, appalled that I could make such comparisons. “Yeah, I know,” I shouted. “MEAN AGAINST ALL OF THE DOWN SYNDROME PEOPLE!” And for that I am deeply sorry’ I shouldn’t have said that. I should have said Bobcat Goldthwait instead. Did you know I’ve heard Katy Perry sing live before? It’s true. She was, for some fucked up reason, at Warped Tour in 2008 and we happened to be walking past the stage she was “performing” on and she sounded like the time Henry accidentally stepped on Marcy’s tail.
  • Our last big argument was Saturday night when I put on some fucked up TV show called Buying Alaska, which follows several idiots around that disgusting state of ALASKA while they look at sickening cabins in varying degrees of repulsion with gratuitous shots of blood-curdling GLACIERS and it only took about 2 seconds before I was screaming at the TV, and then of course Henry had to defend Alaska because he can never just be on my side. Here’s a tip: try buying a house in a state that’s not hideous.
  • I had to go to Chooch’s Christmas concert on Wednesday morning (haha, I “had” to go; I’m such a fantastic mom) and it was, you know, a Christmas concert. With kids. I prayed for the gods to take me peacefully. The music teacher at that school is so self-aggrandizing, like he’s conducting down at Heinz Hall and not at some city elementary school. And then he kept reminding us that it was a LIVE SHOW, in case some of us thought it was DVRd. So when some band kid needed his violin tuned, the music teacher was all, “HAHA what did I tell you? THIS IS A LIVE SHOW!” like we’re sitting in NBC Studios watching Carrie Underwood do that Sound of Music thing and he proceeds to explain to us the art of tuning a violin and like, no one gives a shit about your anecdotal interludes. We want to see our kids sing and then go the fuck home. And thank god they don’t perform in order, else I wouldn’t have had the chance to watch 10% of the 5th graders sing “Feliz Navidad” while the rest of them stood there stewing in racism. Finally, the second graders came out and sang “Jingle Bells” and Chooch fucking cracked up the whole time. I found out later that it was because his cougar girlfriend from last year had returned and was throwing him horns from the front row.
• Also on Wednesday, I was leaving the house to walk to the trolley stop when I realized that I shut the door behind me without grabbing the housekey. Which is no big deal usually, because it’s not like I ever come home from work to an empty house. But the problem was that I was fairly certain that I didn’t have any money on my trolley card thingie and my wallet was in my other purse in the house so I had no way of either adding money to my card or taking money out from the ATM and paying the old fashioned way. I had no way of knowing for sure though until I got to the trolley stop and checked my card balance on the fare machine thingie, and it was as I suspected: $0. Henry was like an hour away so that wasn’t an option. So then I attempted to panhandle which was a terrible idea and people were actually turning their backs to pretend that I didn’t exist, as if it wasn’t already awkward enough for me to have swallow my pride and ask for change. One old man was a total asshole to me and said in a super rude and condescending tone, “I don’t understand what you’re asking me.” So I explained to him one more time, while holding up my trolley fare card thing, that my balance was ZERO and that I didn’t have my WALLET on me and he just shook his head and laughed without mirth, like this generation gap is just so confusing to him and I’m probably actually asking him for the last $2.50 I need to finally be able to buy that crack rock on my Amazon wish list. Kids these days, blah blah blah. WELL I’M SORRY IF I DON’T HAVE A FUCKING CUP TO SHAKE IN YOUR FACE, YOU GERIATRIC ASSHOLE. I hope your family puts you in a fucking home for Christmas. Anyway, SUPPOSEDLY no one around had any change, so I shuffled away from the trolley platform (one guy wished me luck at least), and then literally froze on the sidewalk. Because that’s how I handle things: I panic and shut down. Instead of calmly thinking of a plan B, I go straight to Plan STAND HERE AND THEN DIE. The worst part was that I had this big bag full of all the Secret Santa stuff that I was so excited for, and now I wasn’t even sure if I was going to be able to get to work! I was ready to call my boss Joy and tell her that I couldn’t pay for the trolley and therefor would be roaming around Dormont until Henry was done with work. But then I remembered that I know other people! So I called Janna and she was thankfully home and able to come pick me up and take me to work, THANK YOU JANNA OMG. But still, I totally lost it and openly wept as I walked back to my house to wait for her outside of the front door I was unable to unlock. I promise you that a lot of people witnessed this, so that was terrific. Then I got to go to work and act like I hadn’t just come in off the street after weeping like a crazy lady.
• Earlier, Chris and I had our hands held by Santa. Our work friend Lauren was asking us about it and at the same time Chris said it was creepy, I was saying that it was tender. Because tender is a word that I don’t get to say very often, and I will now always equate it with the comforting caress of Santa’s softly-gloved hands.
• I hope Jeff Gutt is OK. #ThingsIWouldHaveSaidIfILiveBloggedTheXFactorFinale
• Carlito’s Eulogy. #ThingsIWouldHaveSaidIfILiveBloggedTheXFactorFinale
• STFU Mario Lopez. #ThingsIWouldHaveSaidIfILiveBloggedTheXFactorFinale
• Thank god I DVRd this so I can fast forward through Lea Michele. And Pitbull. And One Direction. And the last half of this weird Leona Lewis Christmas song. #ThingsIWouldHaveSaidIfILiveBloggedTheXFactorFinale
• Why not just rename the show The Honda X Factor? #ThingsIWouldHaveSaidIfILiveBloggedTheXFactorFinale #AggressiveProductPlacement
• Had a talk yesterday with Sue and it looks like I might get to work on a fun little project where I actually get to be creative instead of telling people they’re not pushing the right button, which seems like all I do here anymore. So, fingers crossed on that.
• Last night when I was leaving work, some man approached me and asked me if I could spare fifty cents so he could get on the bus. I knew I didn’t have any change on me, but I told him to wait there and then I ran to where Henry was parked and started digging through the console until I had a fistful of nickels and dimes. “What are you doing!?” Henry asked me in that annoying squeal he gets when I’m doing something he doesn’t like. So I told him that man needed change and then Henry was even more annoyed and I stopped dead and hissed, “I KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE, OK!?” God, fuck you, Henry. Like he would know anything about what people like us go through everyday!
• Found my wallet in my huge fucking hobo purse later on Wednesday evening, so you know…turns out that whole panhandling incident didn’t need to happen. Um, but at least it gave Janna a chance to show for the millionth time what a great friend she is?
• If there’s one thing this whole Duck Dynasty fiasco has taught me, it’s that I’m friends with A LOT of radical homophobes on Facebook. I’ve been on a “hide from timeline” frenzy.
• In approximately 30 minutes, I’m done with work until next Thursday so I guess I better start getting into Christmas mode. We still haven’t really done any shopping! And we’re having a Christmas Eve party! I AM SO UNMOTIVATED SUDDENLY.

• I have all of these moderately important things to do, but I just got the Christmas update for Simpsons Tapped Out and have basically done nothing but collect gift cards and presents from my neighbors and plant hedges strewn with Christmas lights for the last hour. Disgustingly, obsessively stoked for this!
• Speaking of Christmas, my friends Gina and Elissa had a Christmas party at their house on Saturday and it took an unexpected turn into murder/mystery territory. It all started with a handmade record shelf…
  • And you know, the company and food were top notch, but the highlight for me was learning that there is a store called THE APPLE CASTLE. It sells all things apple!! Why didn’t anyone ever tell me this!? So thank you, Gina and Elissa, for hosting a party that potentially changed my fucking life, OMG.
• One of my co-workers thought I went to see Steve Winwood on Friday night, because he was evidently playing a very poorly-promoted show at the other Carnegie Music Hall. It’s really not that far of stretch to think I’d have gone see him though conidering his was one of the first records I ever bought when I was in elementary school. I really liked “Back In the High Life Again,” OK? U MAD?!
• Obsessed with Alex & Sierra.
• Secret Santa starts tomorrow here at The Law Firm! I can’t wait until it’s over so that I can talk (and blog) freely about it because I hate hate hate keeping secrets. It’s been hard enough not showing every last motherfucker our Christmas card photo before I send the damn things out! Fuck, I need to chill.
• So, Paul Walker died and all these people on Facebook were like, “STOP POSTING ABOUT PAUL WALKER OMG!!!” and it scared me because I had posted a picture of Paul Walker Glenn so I was like, “OH NOES am I being lumped in with this group? God forbid I should annoy people on the Internet!” So then Nelson Mandela died and I quietly made my Nelson Mandela Glenn and didn’t share it with anyone and then it was all, “NOT ENOUGH PEOPLE ARE POSTING THINGS ABOUT NELSON MANDELA!” and I’m like “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT!?!?” Haven’t enough people posted photos of him with quotes plastered across it? What if I post one with a too-popular quote and then it’ll be all, “DAMN everyone be posting the same fucking Mandela quote SMH.” Can’t we just go back to the days when people went on Facebook to catch up with friends and family and bitch about Farmville invites? Now every last motherfucker is trying to make people feel like shit for what they are or aren’t posting and I’m like, “IT IS JUST FACEBOOK, YOU ASSHOLES.” Maybe utilize that handy “hide” feature sometimes. It works great. And I know that because I JUST USED IT ON YOU.
  • And yes, I understand that crying about it on my blog is just as bad. But I never claimed to be the mature one.
• Earlier tonight, I made a cup of coffee and the Keurig was all, “PLEASE ADD WATER” and you know what I did? Well, I’ll tell you what I didn’t do! ADD WATER! BECAUSE I’M IN A BAD MOOD! FUCK YOU AND YOUR BOSSY ASS, KEURIG!!
• Can someone please buy me all four of these for Christmas?

• Laura and Mike are moving to Dallas next week! I’m super stoked for them and also jealous about all the good Texas foodstuffs they’re going to put in their mouths.
• My house is still relatively clean from all the Thanksgiving cleaning Henry (and I!!!) did. And of course no one has randomly stopped by because that only happens when Henry leaves a week’s worth of socks on the floor and there are puddles of cat pee right inside the front door. And you can’t see the top of the coffee table or dining room table because Henry and Chooch are competing to see who can have the tallest pile of refuse. (IT’S NEVER MY STUFF, OK!?)
• Found out that Sada & Whitney from The Real L Word are going to be on VH1’s Couples Therapy, fuck yes! I’m sure Henry is thrilled. I follow pretty much the whole cast of The Real L Word on Instagram and then say things to him like, “I’ve been looking at too many pretty lesbians on Instagram; let’s make out.”
• I was just trying to explain something to a secretary on the phone and she literally said, “Oh OK” and hung up. WHILE I WAS STILL TALKING. I mean, I know I’m boring, but fuccccck. Now I know how Henry feels when we’re on the phone and I complely DGAF.
• Thank god for acronyms.

• I’m currently combating Holiday Season Depression. One of my strategies was to host a small, informal Thanksgiving at our Pit of Despair so that we’re not roaming around, hoping someone will take us in at the last minute.  I got Henry on board and even officially named it Hanksgiving (get it? Henry –> Hank? HANKSgiving? Because Henry will be doing everything on his own?!) and then set the time for later in the evening so that it could be like a second dinner for my friends who have real family. I think only Laura, Mike and Janna are coming, but at least it’s better than just me, Henry and Chooch eating at a Chinese buffet. So now I have side dish researching to keep me busy, which Henry just loves, because I always pick the things that involve expensive ingredients. And I’m also excited to have an excuse to pull out the pie pedestals and use them for hors d’oeurves and the homemade cheese that Henry is going to make! (Oh yeah, Henry—you’re making homemade cheese.) We’re hoping Blake, Robbie and Corey will make an appearance, too. Henry is still wildly against the idea of me finding a random homeless person to bring to dinner. :(

• Chooch was sick all weekend and it was so sad and pathetic. I told him Hershel (if you don’t watch The Walking Dead, just skip to the next bullet) was watching over him and he got all panicky and said, “He might think I have the virus and stab me in the head!!!” He was miraculously well enough to go to the zoo on Sunday though, even though it was raining steadily all day. Kris Letang (one of the Pittsburgh Penguins) was there with his son, getting a private tour. Henry saw him through the glass of one of the restricted areas and sent me a picture of his back. Thanks, Henry.
• Aside from a morning jog in the cemetery, I didn’t go anywhere at all this past Saturday (see: Chooch was sick). This is a fucking miracle, really. Instead, I got completely sucked into one of the new shows on the CW, “Reign.” It’s about Mary Queen of Scots and kind of “Gossip Girl”y and everyone is so fucking pretty to look at it, plus it’s on THE CW, hello. Of course I’m going to like it. So I power-watched five episodes in a row and Henry wanted to kill himself. That show and “The Originals” are totally ruling my TV time right now. (Plus, The Walking Dead, Homeland and American Horror Story. And hockey games.)

• Henry took my umbrella when he went to the zoo on Sunday (MY umbrella!!!!) so in retaliation, I wore this hair thingie that he totally shamed me for buying last year. (See also: I watched five episodes of “Reign.”)
• A group of us are doing Secret Santa at work! Today was the name-drawing event. The hardest for me is definitely going to be keeping my mouth shut (and my fingers off the blog) about it until it’s over next month. I haven’t done a Secret Santa since I worked at the Tina and Eleanore Company back in 2007 and of all people, Tina was my Secret Santa. Sometimes I really miss that place. Even though I still have no idea what I actually did there.
  • On my wish list, I put “cheap jewelry; exotic, weird fruit; nail polish.” It took me awhile to think of realistic things. If I knew for sure Debbie S. would draw my name, I would have just put “photos of dead people; more photos of dead people; all of the photos of dead people.” But there are people participating in this fun little event who might not know that I enjoy photos of dead people, and then who knows what would happen.
• Speaking of Secret Santa, the last time I was a someone’s Santa, I was happy to unload this dangerously sharp wrought iron picture frame that some strange broad gifted me at my baby shower in 2006. I would have also given her the out-of-date boxes of Tasty Cakes that came with the frame, but I had already thrown those away. I had a really weird baby shower.

Marcy through a tube.

• You probably don’t remember, but many, many months ago I alluded to the fact that me and my bestie Andrea of My Pretty Zombie fame were going to team up and make an eye shadow collection based on my stupid blog, in which “team up” loosely translates to “Andrea does all of the hard stuff while I sit back and giggle.” But then I k ept dropping the ball on my LONE TASK, which was designing the labels. I blame Henry for buying a new computer and upgrading Photoshop. I am practically paralyzed by change. I hate it. And so I just stopped using it, like any other five-year-old would do. I mean, I was barely even using my good camera anymore because the thought of having to edit photos in that newfangled Photoshop contraption made me seethe. But then last week, I sucked it up and dove in. And just like that, the Oh Honestly Erin Collection is pretty much ready to be launched on Black Friday, you guys! It’s going to be awesome! I can already attest that the colors are fabulous, because Andrea sent me samples last year. Next week, I’ll be having a giveaway for TWO SETS! That means TWO PEOPLE can win, just in case you forget how to do math as much as I do. Below is a sneak peek at one of the new shades, Melon Shirt! Um, and I promise I won’t make you jump through hoops like I typically do when I host giveaways. I can’t help it—I was actually born this obnoxious.

•  Yesterday at work, I randomly stumbled across this ice cream company in Portland that churns out the most amazing flavor combinations, weird pairings that make a lot of people dry-heave but make my taste buds come alive like depressed drag queens at a Lady Gaga concert. I was like, “Who else here would appreciate this? Oh, right, my Weird Fruit Bestie Chris!” So I sent her the link and her response was “PEAR AND BLUE CHEESE!? YES.” (Just pretend that I actually checked my emails for her verbatim reply, thanks.) So then we did what normal people would do and discuss the possibilty of traveling to Portland just to eat their hipster ice cream and Voodoo Doughnuts, when I noticed that you CAN ORDER PINTS ONLINE!!! Unfortunately, they come in 5 one-pint sets. And it’s $65. So I frantically texted Henry, “Can I buy five pints of ice cream for $65?” and his immediate response was “no.” HE DIDN’T EVEN ASK ME WHAT KIND!? Chris asked her girlfriend Monica who is way less Henry-ish and CONTROLLING but even she was like, “Well, I mean, it’s your money, but….” And then I had a brilliant idea! CHRIS AND I COULD GO HALVSIES!! We were excitedly talking about it at Chris’s desk when Mean Amber2 and Lauren asked us WTF was going on so we started telling them about all of the flavors and Mean Amber puked up some of mer meanness and Lauren was like, “No, that’s disgusting” until she went to their website and saw that they have Coffee and Bourbon so now she’s considering partnering up with us. This is basically a lot of words to say: I AM GOING TO MAYBE BE EATING SOME FUCKING WEIRD ICE CREAM SOON. (Not all of their flavors are “weird,” just the ones Chris and I care about.)
• My Jonny Tree is back in action!

• We’re pretty much done with the paper mache portion of a project we’re working on. Hopefully the next two stages pan out the way I hope. Meanwhile, Henry is totally obsessed with himself now because he thinks he’s so fucking great at paper mache and actually said he hopes that Chooch needs to make something for school soon so then the school can also see how fantastic Henry is. STFU, seriously. Go build a car or something like a real man.
• My friend Lisa had a baby girl last month! Her name is Genevieve and I got to hold her last week! That’s more of an exclamation of horror. Don’t get  me wrong—that child is adorable! But it”holding a baby” is not something that comes naturally to me, even after having one of my own. Lisa said I did fine though, so there. Sometimes I REALLY WANT A BABY. But then I remember those dark and lonely nine months and I snap out of it. Except that two weekends ago, it came up in conversation again and I was all, “Let’s just do it” but then Henry pointed out that my due date would be around next summer’s Warped Tour so then I was like, “Just scratch my back instead.” I feel like I told you this story already, but maybe I’m mixing up my social media.

• I listened to Barbara Streisand’s “Guilty” album the other day and it made me so happy/sad. She will always be the GREATEST FEMALE SINGER in my opinion. And her songs remind me of all the good parts of my childhood, especially sitting at the kitchen counter at my pappap’s house on a Saturday night, eating grilled cheese and getting ready to watch the Golden Girls and Empty Nest, and sometimes Hunter if I could stay awake. I miss my pappap all of the time, but even more during the stupid holidays. I wish my mom could get it together long enough for us to have a peaceful holiday meal together. Unfortunately, she’s even worse than ever.
• THE PENGUINS ARE WINNING 1-0 AGAINST THE STUPID CAPITALS!
• I’ve been embroiled in the age-old “should I get bangs again?” quandary. UGH, I JUST DON’T KNOW.
• I’m a LITTLE BIT on edge because I’ve been locked out of my stupid Simpons Tapped Out game since Monday. MONDAY! I even brought Chooch’s phone (my old iPhone) to work with me yesterday so that I could log on as myself on his game. I have a real problem. :(
• PENGUINS ARE BEATING THE CRAPITALS 2-0!!!

Oh Henry, you shouldn’t have.

I swear, the older I get, the faster these months fly by. It is infuriating! We didn’t even go to a goddamn pumpkin patch this year (and here is where I remind myself that I actually hate pumpkin patches, but whatever)! But I did go to a fucking bushel of haunted houses, so it all evens out I guess.

(Bushel can definitely be a measurement for haunted houses.)

Anyway, here’s a bushel of photos from my phone that I would like to post here for posterity, plus some meaningless words. And I can do that if I want! Bushel bushel bushel!!

Chooch’s eyeball shadow.

• I usually talk to Henry on my cell phone while I’m walking to the trolley every day. We barely see each other during the week because of our opposing work schedules, so I basically call him 87 times a day until I get to work. He’s lucky that I abhor personal calls at work or else he’d never get a reprieve. Anyway, that’s not the point. So I was walking past the bank while I was yammering away about probably really important things (i.e. more shit I want Henry to do for me). There was an older woman in a motorized wheelchair, zooming toward me as I passed the bank, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that she stopped in front of the bank door. I turned around to see what she was doing and she was just sort of chilling in her wheelchair, facing the bank. I went back and asked her if she needed help with the door, and she said, “Oh yes, please! I didn’t want to ask you because you seemed like you were in a hurry.” The bank door opens into a foyer with another door at the end, so I had to walk inside with her in order to open the next door. I could hear Henry asking me what the fuck I was doing, because he knows how much I HATE TALKING TO STRANGERS so he probably thought I had run into an ex-boyfriend and advanced straight to the nearest alley to start an affair. As I opened the final door, the lady thanked me sweetly and mentioned again that she was sorry I had to stop for her when I was in such a hurry, and I assured her that I actually wasn’t in a hurry, and was about to joke that I just naturally walk like I’m an undercover CIA agent who’s headhunting a Nepalian jewel thief in Belfast, but then I didn’t want to talk about ambulation to someone who can’t walk because god, what an asshole I’d be. Anyway, the point to my story is that it really made me sad to think that this lady was too afraid to ask me, the only other pedestrian around at that time, for help because she didn’t want to bother me. I know I’m always “Blah blah, I hate people, go get fucked” but honestly, I could never be in “too much of a hurry” to help someone open a door, or cross the street, or chase down the hooker who stole their car keys. And fuck anyone who is. I may be a lot of lowly things, but “rude” is not one of them. Wheelchair or not, I always hold the damn door for someone. (Just not Henry or Janna. I like to force it shut on them. It’s a hobby.) Anyway, my own boyfriend of 12 years, having witnessed this via cell phone, was so astounded by me doing a good deed that his first instinct was to laugh at me.

• One day last week, Chooch stopped in front of this house and asked me to take his picture. “I wish this was one of the school picture backgrounds,” he said all wistfully. “Because this house is SO BEAUTIFUL.” I mean, it really is beautiful when your basis for comparison is the shanty we currently live in. But then I realized that this is the house that has the cinder block wall that Chooch loves to “parkour” on. So that explains that.

• Haunted House Journal excerpt from 10 years ago. I’m such a loser but I am secretly so proud of these journals. I’m also completely spazzing out because I am so behind with my haunted house chronicling. Let’s be honest here: if you’re a blogger, you know how much easier it is to type that shit out. Writing by pen is almost so archaic to me now that my hand cramps within two minutes and my hand writing looks like it matches my mental age. Totally awful, but I refuse to be defeated. Keeping a log of my October jam is way too important to let a little pen-in-hand lethargy win the war.

I know it looks like he’s smiling but he was actually VERY MAD AT THE WORLD.

• I’m having a really hard time focusing on things lately. I can barely even sit through a TV show. (Trust me, that’s not necessarily a bad thing; I’d love to go back to the days when I literally NEVER WATCHED TV. I was so much better off. Now Henry is reading this and getting a hard-on at the prospect of canceling cable, haha.) This probably also explains why I can’t keep up with haunted house journaling. I probably have ADHD or something but I refuse to be medicated so what does it even matter.

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  Also, yesterday and today I think I had some sort of mild panic attack before work. It started to happen again earlier this afternoon when everyone was gathered around the cake corridor. We were celebrating our boss’s recent nuptials and I had to peace out right after the toast and retreat to my office-thing, where I rested my head on my keyboard until everyone started to make their way back to my quadrant. Either my anxiety is coming back full force or I’m way more averse to marriage/other people’s happiness than ever, thanks Henry. I’m telling you this because you’re my doctor, right?

• I love it when this guy rides the trolley because although he has Beats by Dre headphones, he inexplicably uses a real life CASSETTE WALKMAN, you guys!
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  I can’t even explain the sweet, sexual nostalgia that’s dumped upon my head like a bucket of gland juice perspired during the filming of a Jodeci music video. And when he would eject the tape, flip it over, and then smash down the “Play” button with the fingertip force? SWOON, MOTHERFUCKER, SWOON. It made me want to eBay a yellow Aiwa Walkman, just like the kind I had in high school.

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  Bitch, you best believe I still have the mixtapes for it. I’m not sure what the man was listening to at the time I stole his soul with my iPhone lens, but I can promise you that he was rocking the FUCK out to Queen a few weeks ago. It was goddamn adorable.

• Speaking of cassettes, my buddy Alex asked me to make a Halloween mixtape for his Mixtape Monday blog thingie that he does. He posted it yesterday and I’m really excited about it because bone-chilling music rules. You should go check it out, OK?!!? I will now end this jumbled post with a video for one of my mixtape songs because I know you are going to be all like, “I will click that link, just not right now” and then tomorrow you’ll kind of think about it while shaving your mom’s back but then you’ll be “in too much of a hurry” just like one of those jerks who can’t even stop and open a fucking door for a crippled person!! And then by the next day, YOU’LL HAVE COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN THAT YOU PROMISED ME YOU WOULD CHECK IT OUT and why do I suddenly feel like this post is exorsizing all of my bottled-up feelings!?

You know how when you have a lot on your mind, and then you try to write/type and it just comes out a total mess? That’s what it’s been like for me all week (some may argue that it’s been years longer than just a week though), so I really have no business even writing in this thing today, but at the same time, I need to hear that methodical tap-tapping on the keyboard.

So you know what that means? Bulletpoints, bitches. Because I don’t have the mental stamina to finish the Palace of Gold story or start anything else that requires cohesive thought, really.

• Henry went against everything he believes in by publicly admitting that he loves me last week on Facebook. It was sweet at first because I had had a series of really bad days at work and he was trying to cheer me up, but then all these people were like, “Did you hack into Henry’s account?” and it made me realize that our relationship must honestly appear loveless to outsiders. Oh well, haha.
• Speaking of Henry, pie party enthusiasm finally kicked in for him Monday night and he actually started searching for a second pie to bake. (I already picked the first one for him.) I’m not going to say what either pie is because I’m a firm believer in the science of jinxing, and I really don’t want these pies to fail! In addition to that, he finished assembling the pie pedestals and he made little chalkboard tags so all of the pies will be identifiable. (I should mention that while I think Pinterest is dumb, Henry LOVES Pinterest. Literally every time I look at his phone, if he’s not playing Candy Crush, he’s scrolling through Pinterest.)
• Tonight is the Penguins’ home opener! Barb asked me if I wanted to go with her tonight, but of course I have the most inconvenient shift in the history of the Law Firm, and I didn’t want to call off or request a half day with no notice. Look at me, actually giving a shit about a job that doesn’t give a shit about me. (Do you know how many times I’ve called off work in the 3.5 years I’ve worked here? Twice.)
• Speaking of work, some secretary basically told me last week that I don’t know how to do my job, which, you know, is basically something that I think to myself 99% of my time here, but thanks for driving that insecurity home, Honest Secretary.
• Maybe I will live-blog a few hockey games this season, if Sandy nags me enough. ;)
• I am so thankful that I have a job, I really am, but there are some days when I’m sitting here telling the same secretary for the 87th time how to fix the same user error that she’s had 87 times, and I just want to cry because what am I doing? I feel like my brain is going to atrophy. Why can’t my days be filled with music (listening to and talking about and laying in the middle of Warped Tour everyday all summer forever) and designing weird shit on Photoshop and having people HEAR my ideas. Maybe even some writing if I have to.
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  And then I remind myself that it’s OK, I will just keep on keeping on so that I can go to concerts and Warped Tour and amusement parks and feel alive, and all of these days of feeling listless and dull will just make my heart feel that much brighter when these things happens. It’s OK. Just smile through it. Fucking smile, motherfuckers. Even when it feels impossible.

• At least I have Simpsons: Tapped Out.
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  Thanks, Brandy! I made Janna and Corey download it too because I needed more donuts. Janna’s Springfield looks super dumb though.

• I would like to thank Chooch for making me a fan of Never Shout Never. I’ve listened to them every morning this week on my own accord! Even the older songs that I used to think were dumb just sound better to me. Maybe because I’m not as jaded? (You’d never know that though based on the negative tone of this post, OMG I just went back and skimmed it and I sound like a brat.) I sing all of the songs really loud while skipping in circles around Marcy. Which she loves, you know. At least it’s uplifting, you guys:

• Gayle randomly gave me a Smokey the Bear pin which I will now proceed to wear every day, watch me. It’s going to be my new signature…thing. “Yeah, you know…Erin Rachelle Kelly. The girl with the Jay Leno chin and the Smokey the Bear pin.”
• Earlier today, I made coffee at work and then afterward the “Add water” alert came on the Keurig and you know what? I DID NOT ADD WATER. I was like “Fuck you, I’m always adding water! I want to be the lazy motherfucker for once!” And then I took my Goonies mug and LEFT THE KITCHEN. Take that, whoever made coffee after me. Which was probably me, now that I think about it. Fuck.
• Hey, the Pittsburgh Pirates are doing things. And the STEELERS aren’t, which fills me with glee because I hate them so much. Although Henry always reminds me how wonderful football season is because it means most of the city is either at the game, at home watching the game, at a bar watching the game, so we are able to go out in public without suffering the crowds. And I do appreciate that.
• Remember last year when Gayle brought me that chocolate meteor with an apple center? Actually, it would be kind of weird if you remembered something like that.
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  But anyway, she brought in two different kinds the other day and told me to choose one. TWO DIFFERENT KINDS! And I chose neither. Can you believe it? Weight Watchers is teaching me self-control, I guess.

• Here, let me just take care of Throwback Thursday while I’m at it. I found an old wallet/pocketbook thingie from high school and I mean, who doesn’t carry around photos of their 4-year-old self? I also had a photo of an inmate pen pal, a folded-up magazine page featuring an interview with Layzie Bone from Bone Thugs n Harmony, and a shit ton of pager numbers written on receipts and tattoo parlor business cards.

• I’ve been trying to go back and edit some old posts, because when I say I don’t proofread before publishing these things, I mean it. Call it laziness, call it your basic blasé mindset, but most of the time when I write on here, I’m just trying to get DONE. The only time I pause to proofread is when I’m writing something for someone else. Funny, right? That I would care less about the stuff on my own site. I wish I still had some of that zeal like I used to, where I was almost militant about triple-reading every single paragraph. But now, I do it when I get around to it (which is oftentimes not at all), or if Henry actually reads something for once and catches a typo. Anyway, my point is that some (OK, most) of these blog posts I’ve been editing are so embarrassing. You’d never know I went to college for this bullshit.
• Tomorrow is going to be a scary day for two people that I love very dearly and that pisses me off. Bad things/good people. You know the story. I predict that I’m going to be doing the hare krishna chant a lot tomorrow morning. Get stoked, Marcy.
• It’s supposed to be 81 degrees with RAIN ALL DAY on Sunday. If this happens, it will go down in history as the first pie party with poor weather. I keep checking the forcast every hour and I’m so stressed about it, you would think it was my wedding day. I mean, I might as well treat it as such SINCE I AM PROBABLY NEVER GOING TO HAVE A REAL WEDDING DAY.
• I fucking promise you that I’m not even in a bad mood today. My fingers are possessed. These are not my words.
• But….since I’m being such a brat, I might as well end with a bratty visual that I texted Henry earlier today with a super sweet “hate you” attached:

• My distractions aren’t working. Tell me things.

Hey guys, what do you want to talk about today? Bullshit? OK, that’s my favorite. Let’s do it in bulletpoints, though.

• Today, I was walking to the trolley and the air just felt like fall and I was washed over with these obscure memories of when I moved to Brookline in 1999, like how I had this job on the street I walk up every day to catch the trolley and it was going to be so perfect because I could just walk to work everyday and my mom wouldn’t have to pay my rent anymore. I was telemarketing, basically calling people and talking to them about coupons? I can’t remember, but I only lasted a week and the manager tried to withhold my $16 paycheck because I never returned the flimsy red plastic binder she gave me. That company is obviously not there anymore and my mom spent the next 8 months paying my rent until I finally got a real job. My mom was super nice back then. Kind of.
• Today, I had the good sense to be a parent and look at Chooch’s school calendar, which is how I learned that it is black and gold day, and has apparently been so the last two Fridays as well. Oops. So this morning, I was like, “Shit, does he even have anything black and gold?” because he hates the Penguins and I won’t let him like the Steelers, and we all have non-opinions for the Pirates but hey—good job, team! Keep it up! Then I remembered it was Friday the 13th, so I tossed a pair of gold pants at Chooch and said, “Here, happy black and gold day.” Andit’s a good thing I took his picture, because that was how I continued my streak of parenting (not even good parenting, just regular parenting) and noticed that his fly was down just in time. But even I hadn’t, the Facebook Fly Police ticketed me immediately after I posted this:

• As noted above, today is Friday the 13th. I was excited to wear my Jason Voorhees hair fascinator that everyone at work thinks is SO CUTE. Of course every non-Friday the 13th, I see that sonabitchin’ thing laying around. But today when I needed it, it was AWOL. I blame Henry for not finishing the coffee table yet, because I think it’s somewhere in all of that mess. So instead, I wore Chooch’s cat bowtie, because we’re supposed to be sharing it anyway:

• Sometime after thinking it was a good idea to put that Jason shirt on Chooch and then dropping him off at school, it occured to me that maybe not everyone there would think it was a good idea for me to have put that shirt on Chooch. Yeah, I know he’s not in Catholic school anymore but it only takes one person to get all offended at a tshirt taking a small, harmless jab at Jesus. But then I reminded myself that this is why I listed Henry as the primary contact, so what the fuck do I (or Jason) (or Jesus!!) care? I just texted Henry and he said he didn’t hear anything so it’s a good thing I didn’t waste any time caring.
• Guess what I’m doing this weekend!? Well, first I’m going to the dentist, and then Chooch and I are walking to the theater down the street to see “Labryinth” while Henry stays home and finishes all of the projects I’ve been doling out, but then you guys!! Then guess what!? I’m going to practice baking! I just feel very inspired and motivated and I really want to contribute to the pie party this year. And Henry said he thinks I can do it (he’s totally afraid to commit to an answer on that one) and he’ll be there to supervise, so I’m going for it. I also want to make Mexican caramel? I don’t even know what that is. I was reading too many food blogs this week, I guess.
  • I mean, I baked a cake that one time, so I can do this! ….Right? It’s just a matter of getting past the whole “reading a recipe” part. I hate reading recipes! I can’t follow that shit!!
• This has been a really depressing week as far as produce goes. Henry promised we can go to the Asian market this weekend though. If they don’t have persimmons, I might kill something.
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  Or eat Henry’s face. But then I’d have to pick beard-straws out of my teeth.

• I lost two pounds this week! I also rolled my ankle the other day doing one of my Jillian Michaels DVDs and tears instantaneously sprung from my eyeballs. I called Henry later to whine about it and he asked if I stopped exercising after that happened, and simulataneously we said, “No” except that Henry’s “no” was in a stupid mocking tone. But when I hurt my ankle, there was only one last abs segment after that so I was able to keep going since I didn’t have to use my feet, god Papa H!
• Haunted houses.
• I made amends with someone the other day and it felt really good. Scary, but good.
• I e-met this girl who lives in the area, is a year older than me and likes the same music as me. She took her daughter to Warped Tour and Pierce the Veil is one her favorite bands!
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  She seems really cool and I want to ask her if she wants to go get coffee or something, but I feel so ruined by last year’s shitshow with Psycho Seri that I am almost crippled when it comes to meeting people now. That’s not like me and it really sucks.

• Had a wonderful phone convo with my friend Rick today about writing and the possibility of getting a writing group together, which would be really awesome considering I don’t consider myself a writer. Maybe some sort of love will be rekindled? Because most days I feel donezo with this thing.
• I had to get my photo taken yesterday for my drivers license and I unintentionally wore a Cure t-shirt, which made me smile because of CURE WEEK, HOW APROPOS.
  • I don’t know when I started abusing the Caps Lock button but now I fear that I can’t quit it. It’s become a part of me. Although, I do shout a lot of my words in real life when I’m with people I’m the most comfortable with.
• My Philly friends Terri and Christian are coming to town next weekend for a show and I’m so excited to see them! I met them in 2011 at the AP Tour in Cleveland.
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  We were guests of our mutual friend Jason (editor-in-chief of Alternative Press/Boylan’s Root Beer suckler/all-around cool dude), and when he had to leave us alone together at the after party, he was worried there would be blood because hello, hockey rivals! Penguins and Flyers! But we got along really well, even when we talked about hockey, and have kept in touch online ever since. Christian is also the one who encouraged us to take Chooch to see Pierce the Veil last March in Lancaster, because he had been to that venue before and felt that it would be fine. And it totally was! So stoked to see them! (Hopefully Henry puts our living room back together before then.)

• Hold on. I have to make coffee before I fall asleep at my desk.
• I’m back with my coffee but then I remembered I have nothing left to say. Goodbye.

SATURDAY!

• This was the last weekend before school started and even though technically there are still a few more weeks of summer, IT JUST FEELS LIKE IT’S OVER OK. Nothing felt right, wah.
• On Saturday, Chooch and I went to a birthday party for my work friend Colleen’s one-year-old boy, Owen. OMG he’s so cute and makes me want to HAVE A BABY THERE I SAID IT. I was the first co-worker to show up, but everyone there was super nice to us and didn’t make us feel like the “bastard guests” which is sometimes how it feels when you go to parties ruled predominantly by family and close friends. Thanks for making us not feel like redheaded stepkids, Colleen!

Chooch totally got ganged up on by two older girls, haha.

• Later, I met my brother Corey at Blue Flame for some grilled cheese/vent sesh. We hadn’t seen each other in awhile, so it was really nice. He’s pretty much all the family I’ve got so I can’t take that for granted, yo.
• When I came home, we walked to Brookline Boulevard for ICE CREAM because that is what we do on the weekends, apparently, IS EAT ICE CREAM OK. The place on the Blvd usually has red velvet and it’s fucking delicious. Here is a video of our walk to get ice cream, because this is what I do on the trolley: edit videos on my phone so that I don’t have to m ake eye contact with creeps (including myself in the window reflection).

• In the first part of the video, Chooch and I trying to hide from Henry, which is an All American Pasttime for us.
• In the second part, some totally fucking….I was going to say “weirdos” but we’ll just go with “Brookliners” because tomato/tomahto….were having a cow over one of the machines in the ice cream parlor full of those rubbery “eye popper” toys, and the husband LOST FIFTY CENTS trying to get one, and you best believe he complained to the ice cream scooper who was pretty much like, “Frankly, I don’t give a shit.” So then his wife gave him more change and all he got WAS SOME TINY LITTLE PIG-THING!! He was PISSED at this point, but I think whatever slight mental disability he had was preventing him tfrom expressing anger in any capacity other than hilarious whining. He gave Chooch the pig and then his wife was all, “HERE LITTLE BOY HAVE SOME QUARTERS LITTLE BOY TAKE MY MONEY LITTLE BOY” and I said, “Go ahead” because better someone else’s quarters than my own. AND CHOOCH GOT THE SAME LITTLE PIG! Oh, I thought the husband was going to have a shit fit. Him and his long, tiny braid and Rolling Stones shirt. When we left, Henry and I exchanged “WTF” eyes while Chooch said, “That lady was really nice.”
• The third part is actually from Sunday, when Rick Astley’s seminal hit was dripping sweetly from the mall’s inhouse speakers, right after we ate pizza in the food court and HENRY REUNITED WITH SOME GUY HE USED TO “PLAY WITH” IN MIDDLE SCHOOL! Oh my fuck, I get so excited when I see some missing piece from Henry’s clandestine youth-puzzle. And then I found out that they’re actually already Facebook friends, so clearly I don’t spend enough time creeping on Henry’s whopping 78 friend collection.

SUNDAY!

• Chooch had another birthday party to go to on Sunday (this one was for a school friend), but Janna wanted me to go check out an apartment with her so I got out of that one just in the nick of time. (Not that I don’t like birthday parties, but I clench up in fear at the possibilty of hanging out with other school moms. God forbid I should make friends.) Anyway, this apartment is atop of some man’s garage who LIVES ON A GOLF COURSE IN A $500,000 HOUSE. You better believe I told Janna to take it. The apartment itself is tiny but in immaculate condition and the owner was basically like, “YOU ARE FAMILY NOW AND CAN USE THE DECK WHENEVER YOU WANT OK PLEASE USE MY DECK.” I was like, “Janna, you have to use the fucking deck.” He thought we were both 20 and, when describing his nationally-ranked motocross stepdaughter, pointed to me and explained, “She’s real small. About your size.” I LIKE YOU, GUY. Totally colorful character and I have to admit this was a motivating factor behind my decision to encourage Janna to snatch this place up. Here’s hoping this deal doesn’t sour! (Janna if you’re reading, I don’t think it will. JUST DON’T PLAY YOUR ACE OF BASE CD’S TOO LOUD!!!) What a stange meeting.
• After last minute school shoe shopping at the most run-down mall in Western Pennsylvania (remind me to write a mean letter to Journeys; their employees were too busy ironing out social plans to help us find shoes for Chooch’s caveman feet), we went and GOT ICE CREAM AGAIN. Fuck, do we live large.

• And then I had a temper tantrum at the grocery store, because I hate grocery stores.

So, all in all it was a good weekend, but it felt weird. I’ve been distracting myself from summer-mourning by throwing myself headfirst into pie party* planning. I already sent out the official invite on Facebook OMG. This is going to be the best one, I can feel it. Henry and I are doing a bunch of DIY bullshit this weekend in preparation, so LOOK OUT all of you Pinterest hoes: Erin and Henry are going to be spraypainting and gluing shit.

*(This links back to the very first pie party. I had no idea then that it would be become an annual “thing,” but I’m so glad it did!)

P.S. Sorry for being so shouty. I guess I’m acting out because I had a pretty shitty night at work and I couldn’t use this tone toward some of the people who deserved it. (No one in my department! They’re all on my good side. So far.)

Been a little disjointed this week, not really in a bad way, just in a jumbled-thought kind of way. So today’s blog post is going to be all bullets, bay-buh.

(Somewhere in California, Andrea is rejoicing with pee-vials in hand. She’s a sucker for bulletpoints, so if you want to woo her, send her some bulletpointed love poetry.)

• I’ve been getting so amped for autumn, you guys! I was just sitting here at my desk when I had a random flashforward to October and I got the giddiest twinge in my gut. PIE PARTY! HAUNTED HOUSES! PUMPKIN-FLAVORED PIGOUTS! HALLLLLLLOWWWWWWWEEEEEEENNNNNN!! Here I was, being all sad about summer’s upcoming demise when I shouldn’t be sad at all because fall fucking rules the world. (Sucks that shit-assed winter follows it though.)
• This weekend, Henry, Chooch and I will be working on oversized paper mache versions of our faces for a family portrait I would like to potentially do. I already agreed that Chooch’s can be a cat face, what the fuck do I care anymore. Cat it up, kid. Cat. It. Up.
• When I was little, my grandma’s friend, Jean Arseneaux, used to buy me purses and stuff them with all sorts of trinkets, Tinkerbell nailpolish, Bonne Bell bullshit. I loved opening up all of the compartments and finding tissue paper-swaddled presents tucked away. Unfortunately, this really spoiled me and made me expect ALL PURSES to come stuffed with presents. I’m telling you this because the other day, a gigantic box arrived from Andrea, full of birthday presents for me! A framed clown picture, makeup, jewelry, a mixtape wallet—it was like the neverending present! Kind of like Mary Poppins tapestry bag, which makes sense because Andrea is the Goth Mary Poppins, after all. She even included a bobcat puppet for Chooch, because he’s spoiled too. Chooch made me name him, so Bobcat’s name is Butt. This is basically a lot of words to say thank you to Andrea for making me feel like a 7-year-old again!
• I’m beginning to think I’ll never be able to do real push-ups.
• My co-worker Cheryl wants to have an employee of the week feature on our department’s wiki page and volunteered me to take candid pictures of everyone, so now Glenn is basically all clenched-up, wondering what I have planned for him. As expected, approximately 99% of the department hates this plan.
• I guess our baseball team has been doing really good. (Our baseball team is the PIRATES, for those of you who don’t know I live in PITTSBURGH, which most of the time I’d prefer you to not know, actually.)
• Yesterday, Chooch and I were driving to pick up Henry’s mom. We started talking about how he goes back to school on Monday and I was like, “You’re going to have so much to tell everyone!” He thought about it and then said, “Yeah, but we did so many fun things that it’s hard to even remember it all.” To which I responded, “And THAT is why I blog.” You could almost see the lightbulb go on as he finally understood why I do this shit.
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  • Which brings me to my next thought turd: This summer has kicked my blogging ass. I mean, I’m glad that I was able to document all the cool shit we did, but my brain is like, “Please don’t make me” every time I open up WordPress now. I have been doing this for 12 years, can you believe it? 12 motherfucking years. When does it end? I mean, I guess I could just stop and it’s not like my life would end. I think about it a lot. I enjoy blogging, but I miss writing and I really don’t think this is “writing” anymore. Most of the time I’m blogging from my fucking phone. What is discipline?! I don’t feel like I have it anymore. I remember back to my LiveJournal days when I was pretty much OCD about proof-reading every last entry before posting, and then I would read it 3 more times. Now, I never proofread! And when I do, it’s 6 months later. I’m a blogging slob, you guys, but I KNOW YOU WOULDN’T HAVE IT ANY OTHER WAY.
• Henry’s mom and Chooch have been fighting with each other every day. Like really, what could they possible have to argue about!? It’s probably best that we don’t know. But then it made me fight with Henry last night becaue he made some remark about how Chooch has inherited my “psycho laugh” that involuntarily rises up from my body seconds before I rage-break things around the house, so I was all, “OH I SEE IT’S MY FAULT THAT YOUR MOM DOESN’T GET ALONG WITH OUR SON” and then I put myself to bed at 9:30 because that’s what tired cry-babies do, you know. They go to bed early like it’s actually going to hurt anyone else. Henry was probably like, “Yay, now I can watch CSI.” I hate when Henry makes it sound like Chooch and I are such terrible little monsters! So what if we are?! It’s probably because ANDREA SPOILS US!
• Even Marcy has been fighting with Henry’s mom. I know it looks like, “Aw, Marcy wants to be close to her grandma!” But really it’s, “Marcy needs to sit close to her enemies at all times.” Sometimes, Judy will flip a page in Us Weekly, which angers Marcy. Marcy will hiss at her, to which Judy responds with, “Don’t hiss at me, cat.” This picture was taken right after Judy scolded Marcy, so Marcy repositioned herself so that her back was toward Judy.

• I have been reading “Tell The Wolves I’m Home” by Carol Rifka Brunt. It is really good, but also very sad. You have just read a book review by Erin R. Kelly. (I mostly only read it on the trolley because I don’t have much spare time these days. Oh, and I also read some last night when I put myself to bed at 9:30. Take that, Henry, you motherfucker.)
• SOMEONE STOLE MY LEAN CUISINE AT WORK THE OTHER NIGHT, YOU GUYS! I have never felt more betrayed. I still haven’t figured out who did it (GLENN, PROBABLY) but no one is taking my Smart Ones today, that’s for sure. I labeled it as poison. (My first choice was to wrap it in barbed wire, but I must have used all of my stock the last time I reenacted scenes from Suspiria.) Anyway, you can imagine how overly dramatized I made this situation, like I was the first person in the history of offices to have their food thieved. Amber1 and Bridget tried to offer me some snacks they had at their desk, but accepting would have meant I couldn’t sulk and carry on at such a grand scale, so I said NO and went back to walking around with my arm slung across my forehead.
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  I hope whoever dined on shitty Lean Cuisine that night took pleasure in knowing they stole it from the most helpless person in the department.

  • I guess this is karma from all those years I spent stealing candy at MSA.
• I haven’t done a giveaway thingie in a long while. WHO WANTS A GIVEAWAY!? Maybe I’ll have Chooch paint a cat for one lucky winner, who even knows. One of Henry’s old bandannas? Wacky Worm shirt? I want to make this blog happenin’ again and, besides actually putting some “quality” into what I post, this is the best I can do right now!  (Wait…was this joint ever happenin’? I’m picturing you guys dressed for a sock hop now.)
• Henry made a crucial error Sunday night by leaving his phone unattended. I’m pissed that I wasted valuable time sending a tweet to his 8 followers about how he just farted and it was awful, when I should have been asking me to marry him on Facebook. I’m losing my touch. He came downstairs just in time though, because Chooch was going to text Henry’s boss. That would have been interesting, as we’re standing in line at a soup kitchen.
• Chooch was talking about Warped Tour and mused, “I really like We Came As Romans and bands that scream, but I also like the peaceful stuff, too.” It’s good to be diverse, young child!
• There was an ice cream social at work today, except that it was forzen yogurt. I didn’t go because I don’t have time to be social. J/K. I didn’t want to be tempted. I save my ice cream consumption for the weekend. In fact, I’m already looking for a new ice cream place to try! I AM SO EXCITED! This is what happens when you’re pathetic—little things make you giddy. I’m OK with this.
• Chooch told us the other day that he is apparently terrified of butterflies. Ok…”I hate how they pop out of nowhere and fly into my face!” he cried. Where the fuck is this happening to my child? In Minecraft? Because the last time I checked, we don’t walk through any butterfly gardens in Brookline. Of all the things for Hardcore Chooch to fear: pwetty buttelfwies. Awww.
• Janna and I went to see a flower that smells like a rotting corpse and now I feel like I’m smelling it everywhere.
• I’m still on a borderline-stalkerish Eisley kick. I follow every last one of them on Instagram and every time Henry hears a baby crying or laughing on my phone, he sighs and asks, “Which Eisley baby is that, now?” (In case you don’t know anything about Eisley, the band is made up of three sisters, their brother, and a cousin. All three sisters and the brother’s wife were pregnant at the same time and now they all have the cutest fucking babies ever and post Instagram videos of them being cute fucking babies and it is nearly enough to make me want to have a baby. I’m not even joking. The other day I was looking at a picture that the girlfriend of the youngest brother (who is not in Eisley, but he and the youngest sister have their own band called Merriment CAN YOU EVEN STAND IT) posted and, as if this was some grand revelation, said out loud to no one and everyone, “I feel like I’m more obsessed with the DuPrees as people than I am with their music.” Henry was just like, “Yeah, no shit.” (Sherri replied to me TWICE on Instagram and I was like, “OMFG I WILL NEVER WASH MY INSTAGRAM AGAIN!” Which is definitely what Marsha Brady would have cried if Davy Jones had replied to her on Instagram.) Anyway, I guess I like “peaceful stuff” too sometimes, just like Chooch. (See below for: “peaceful music”)

• In TV news: there isn’t a single person on So You Think You Can Dance that I care to see win. Dexter is making me feel “meh” and I never, ever use the word “meh.” I miss Teen Wolf and The Killing so much already. I want to fight 75% of the girls on The Challenge, even Diem. (The only ones I like, really, are Emily and Cooke. Jemmye is not too bad but she’s hard to look at. I’d still bang CT though.) I can’t think of anything else that I watch. Oh, Master Chef. (Fuck that Philly bitch, Krissy, though. Someone give her some linguisitics lessons, please.) Oh wait, Pretty Little Liars, too! But I never know what’s going on with that one and always have to ask Henry, “What’s going on?”
• Chooch wants to go to Tonga because he watched some program with Judy about some Tongan axe murderer. “Just like Lizzie Borden,” Chooch explained with a casual shrug.
• God bless those of you who still read this shit. I mean, for Christ’s sake. What is going on with this blog anymore.