• 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. 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! 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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! 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. 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 possibility 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 strange 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 spray-painting 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.
  • 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. 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.

Henry is still recuperating from The Worst Day Ever (what he lovingly calls Warped Tour), so I tried to let him have a low-key weekend. This is something that’s hard for me because I always want to go-go-go, and after years of being so financially strapped that tagging along to the grocery store with Henry was considered “going somewhere,” it’s nice to be able to actually DO THINGS now*. But sometimes it’s necessary to just chill the fuck at home. (I guess.)

*(Don’t get it twisted—we’re by no means rich or anything. Basically went from one echelon of Poor to another slightly higher one.)

That doesn’t mean I still didn’t drag them to a cemetery, though (second of the day for me because I love my dead folk).

Ice cream cone swagggg

We stopped at Sugar & Spice afterward for ice cream. Henry didn’t order any because his new strategy is to wait for one of us to not be able to finish ours. This time, it was both of us.

I got red velvet soft serve in a chocolate chip cookie cone, which was fucking delicious but then it became a swamp of melted goo at the end so I passed it off to Henry because I can’t stand messy food.

Chooch sang Chiodos songs on the way home and I had all kinds of proud mom-love for him at that moment.

And then we actually stayed home! With the exception of sending Henry out to fetch us dinner.

Later that night, we had an impromptu water balloon fight (god, read the picture!) & Marcy tried to run away. Wouldn’t you?

Today, we went to visit Speck & Don’s graves. I picked out sunflowers for Don. Chooch got some kind of typical grocery store assortment for Speck.

Made the mistake of going inside the animal shelter afterward, which always makes me cry because I want to bring all the animals home but you know, who really can? Totally fell in love with this big, fat, fluffy gray girl who I think was 8 or 9 years old.

Ugh, I can’t stand it!

The Yough Trail (a bike trail that runs from somewhere to somewhere, I don’t listen to Henry when he tries to teach us; it ends in D.C. I think?) is right by the pet cemetery so I made Henry and Chooch suffer through a walk with me. I love how quickly the Law Firm Fitness Challenge becomes everyone’s problem!

I don’t know why Henry was bitching though because he got to look at nature and point out wild strawberries and algae. There was a shooting range nearby and I was so afraid of getting hit by an errant bullet and this supposedly “irrational” fear made Henry irritated; so between his infuriating voice of dissent and Chooch constantly making me trip over his fucking scooter, I power-walked ahead of them until eventually I couldn’t even see them anymore when I turned around. It was wonderful! (And also slightly alarming because it would be just like Henry to try to teach me some stupid lesson by leaving or jumping out of the woods with a chainsaw.)

One annoying thing though is that since it’s a bike trail, there are a LOT of bikers. Go figure! Anyway, bikers are really fucking friendly and have a great desire to slap you in the face with their winded salutations. God, you say hi to one biker, you say hi to them all, you know? I eventually just stopped responding.

Chooch really hates walking and his scooter is just stupid, so Henry mused about all three of us getting bikes. I agreed, but under the stipulation that we get matching shirts, like we’re some team of ragtag rejects.

“I want the back of mine to say Mrs. Jonny Craig,” I said gleefully.

“Then I want mine to say I’m Not With Her,” Henry retorted, but I think it should say Not Jonny Craig because I don’t want anyone to think Henry is embarrassed to be my husband. Oh wait, record scratch: the whole Internet already thinks that.

Came home and went for another walk around my dumb neighborhood–without my hindrances this time.

BONUS: When we were walking home from dinner Friday night, this huge, weirdly-shaped plane was flying overhead and Henry practically pole-vaulted to the SERVICE heavens with the boner it caused.

He told me what kind of plane it was but fuck if I care.

Anyway, I guess it was good to stay home because we’re going away next weekend for my birthday, whaddup!

• Janna’s friend Jeremy had a dream of opening a hot dog cart and fuck if he didn’t reach for the meat-stars and make it happen.  Sometimes Janna helps out, so we made a special trip to mock her in her stupid red apron support a dream realized. Chooch got to help make lemonade, which I don’t forsee becoming a career.

• At stupid Pat Catan’s (Henry’s favorite craft store), some worker broad was all, “Do you want to make a CRAFTTTT?” and she said it in your typical cat hair-knitting mole voice. Chooch of course was like, “YES OMG YES MOMMY BANS CRAFTS AT OUR HOUSE OH PLEASE GOD LET ME MAKE A FUCKING CRAFT” and then she looked at me and I just sighed deeply and pulled out a chair. We made bubble wands. Who the fuck cares about bubble wands?! And it was all just a ploy to just and strong-arm me into buying a vat of bubbles. Anyway, this project sucked. I made the Pat Catan lady do most of it for me, expecially the parts that required using pliers to wrap the wire, which was probably about 50% of the project. I didn’t even attempt to try, I just handed it to her and said, “Here can you do this thanks.” Then I picked out beads and actually put them on without help, if you can believe it. And then as soon as I was finished, and she curled the bottom for me, I immediately had bead remorse.  I wish had put more thought into my bead combo! Chooch’s is all summery and festive — he went with a simple, yet effective, red white and blue pattern. Meanwhile, Henry was hulking around nearby aisles, rolling his eyes at us while checking out macrame kits and jewelry supplies.

• On Sunday, we went to Unity Cemetery in Latrobe to search for Mister Roger’s grave, per my friend Octavia’s request. Of course, we went there blindly, and spent most of the time roaming around aimlessly looking for a grave that may or may not exist. I assumed that it would be easy to find, probably covered with cardigans and puppets and Crayola factory tours (what? people leaves bottles of Heinz Ketchup on Andy Warhol’s grave), but alas — it did not stick out like a sore PBS thumb. Henry finally found some information online that mentioned a private family mausoleum, and we did not see any of those with the name Rogers on the front, so either by “private,” they mean “deep within the forest and also invisible” or the family name is different. Or we just weren’t paying attention, which is entirely possible.  Of course, I had a prime opportunity to scare the shit out of Chooch, which I definitely did not pass up, causing him to totally act like a bitch and then Henry had the audacity to be all, “OMG NO ICE CREAM FOR YOU FUCKERS!” and I was like, “Wha—?? Why!? I didn’t do anything!” and Chooch was all, “I DIDN’T WANT ICE CREAM ANYWAY, I HATE YOU BOTH SO BAD!”

• 15 minutes later, we had ice cream.

• Marcy still insists on sprawling out on top of all of Chooch’s school stuff, so that’s a good sign I think. I’ve always been one to smother my cats, particularly Marcy, but lately I’ve been totally asyphyxiating her with concerned pandering. Yesterday, I followed her around the house on my hands and knees, saying things like, “ARE YOU OK? HOW DO YOU FEEL? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DO YOU WANT TO COME LAY DOWN ON THE COUCH?! DO YOU NEED ANYTHING?!” and then I tried to take her temperature by laying my hand on her head and she was like, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

• Since I’m a Regular Trolley Passenger now (thanks for nothing, Henry), I have become quite chummy with the trolley driver, who looks like HOLY FUCK Bob Ross is alive and living in the mountains! He says things to me like, “Here we are again, huh? Vicious cycle!” (Monday Greeting^©) and “Happy Almost-Hump Day, huh?!” (Tuesday Greeting^©, although sometimes he jumps the gun and lets this one fly on Mondays) and I’ll let you wonder wildly about the rest. I’m not the only one to whom he’s so salacious with his salutations: this man loves, and I mean loves to a point of compulsion, to beep his trolley horn at all his PAT Transit buddies. He beeps at buses, he beeps at other trolleys, he beeps at fare booth broads trying to enjoy their cigarettes, he beeps at construction people digging up roads. I mean, the entire trip to work is everyday is soundtracked by BEEEEEEEEP! BEEPBEEPBEEP!! BEEP BE-BE-BEEP BEEP, BEEP BEEP! It was kind of cute at first, until the time we were going through a tunnel and two buses and one trolley passed us, throwing him into beeping conniptions. It was like a full minute of the most obnoxious, we-are-inside-a-tunnel-you-motherfucker horn blaring that I have ever had to witness. It was kind of like being stuffed in a metal tube and thrown into a deep vat of hipsters screaming about Arcade Fire becoming popular, where the degree of screaming becomes more urgent and shrill the further down you tumble until you finally land in a junkyard of unlimited Fran Dreschers laughing to Jeff Foxworthy jokes. I could still hear it, faintly, an hour later when I was at work.  Totally ruined my afternoon. The one day, he saw one of his buddies in a parking lot, operating some sort of crane, so he was straight beepin’ his proverbial trolley dick, but the guy did not reciprocate the love. I’m 99.9% sure that this was intentional, so Bob Ross: New Career rolled the trolley to a halt and laid on the horn again. This time, the crane-operator doled out the most sarcastic hand-wave I’ve ever seen, and I could almost hear him screaming, “OK! I GET IT! MOTHERFUCKING HELLO! BLOW IT OUTCHER ASS!” Henry said that he was pretty sure that the horns on trolleys and buses were meant to be used as a warning, not a Salute Buzzer. The other day, I couldn’t imagine who Bob Ross of PAT Transit was beeping at, when suddenly I saw a squirrel dash across the tracks. So I guess he does occasionally use the horn as the warning siren it’s intended to be. Good for him. Super nice guy though, for real.
• I really hate it when Henry is talking to Chooch and refers to me as “your mother.” It just makes me feel like some old Donna in a housecoat, I don’t know. So I asked him to please stop calling me that. To Chooch, Henry corrected himself, “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant your 13-year-old friend over there.” See? So much better.
• On Monday, I didn’t notice until after I got to work that my pants had a stain on them. Not just any stain, but a translucent white, milky stain on the upper thigh, right by my crotch. Totally looked like a fucking cum stain and I swear to god it wasn’t because it’s been ages since the last time I wore any work pants to the sex club. I showed Henry when I came home and he was all, “Good one, jackass” but I think he was secretly turned on. WHO’S CUM STAIN IS IT!? he probably thought. Maybe that will be his next blog post.

• A few weeks ago, I signed up for this wellness screening thing at work. All I knew was that it had something to do with our health insurance and my grown-up friends here at work were all saying that it was a Good Thing. So I scheduled mine for Thursday. Angie had hers on Wednesday and off-handedly mentioned that there is finger-pricking involved, which gave me TWENTY-FIVE HOURS to overthink, panic and fixate on the split-second pain my fingertip was going to inevitably endure. I carried on like a fucking bitch-baby about this for the rest of Wednesday and picked right back up as soon as I got to work yesterday. Amber2’s appointment was fifteen minutes before mine, and I begged my boss to let me go then too so I wouldn’t have to ride the elevator alone while crying into my palms like some pious robed woman watching Jesus hang on the crucifx. Joy was like, “Uh, yeah. I don’t care” and then made fun of me for being so scared. Glenn stopped by my office before he left for the day (a few minutes before Amber2 and I went up to the screening) supposedly to get one last look at me SINCE I WAS PROBABLY GOING TO EXPIRE. Anyway, even though I yelped pretty loudly and made the nurse laugh, I survived and ended up walking out there feeling like Wonder Woman after the nurse raved about how great my numbers are so SUCK IT GLENN.

• I have a Candy Land band-aid on it now, too.

• My brother Corey stopped over yesterday morning before work to drop off an Easter basket for Chooch on behalf of my estranged mom and aunt Sharon. “Doesn’t Val ever wonder what Chocoh even looks like now?” I asked sarcastically. “Yeah, you’d think,” Corey said. It didn’t really bother me until afterward, but what the fuck. Sending over obligatory holiday offerings is definitely not the same as being a sane and stable figure in my kid’s life and it just pisses me off. And while one could argue that this is my mom’s way of “making an effort,” I’d like to point out that buying “things” is what has always come easily for her. It’s the “love” part she struggles with. Yay, chocolate bunnies, toys and gift cards. FYI, he doesn’t even know who you are. 
• The other day, Chooch said that he dreamt I wasn’t in the house and he looked outside and saw all of my body parts on the road & Henry was laughing. Then a few minutes later he told he actually didn’t remember his dream so it’s good to know that’s the one he thought up on the fly.
• Chooch was going on and on one night about how bad Henry’s mom Judy sucks at drawing. “She’s horrible!” he cried, and then laughed smugly as if he derived great satisfaction from this. “I love that Chooch is just like and heckles people for their inadequacies.” Henry frowned and said, “Yeah, that’s called being a dick.”

• I was over at Barb’s desk a few days ago, talking to her and Nate, when Chris joined the conversation. Then this weird thing happened, where it literally felt like I had floated out of my body and drifted away from the conversation. Chris picked that precise moment to ask me something which I didn’t understand because it sounded like he was talking underwater, and even still, I shook my head “yes.”  I was telling Barb about it yesterday, about how I think I have neurological damage maybe because this isn’t the first time this has happened, and she was all impressed at my overachieving ability to peace out of conversations. MAYBE I’M ASTRAL PROJECTING!? I still don’t know what I said yes to.
• Henry the Foot Barbarian clipped Chooch’s pinky toe with his humungous sledgehammer feet Wednesday night. So now Chooch has joined my Abused Phalanges Club. In the bathtub that night, he took on his Henry-mocking voice and said, “My name is Dumb Henry. I like cooking eggs, stepping on my son’s toes and hurting Erin’s feelings.” INDEED.

• On our trip back home from Lancaster a few weeks ago, we were driving through Breezewood when that “close the window, come alive” song came on (yes! we were able to find a soft rock radio station in the midst of an FM country jamboree!) and these huge tears literally started cascading out of my dumb eye sockets. So then Henry and I had this long conversation about Anne Murray (my Pappap loved her!) but then the DJ told us later that it was actually Rita Coolidge, so I guess that song really isn’t that memorable to me after all.
• “You’re not a writer because you don’t have any books,” Chooch schooled me last week. First of all, duh. Second of all, I lost count of all the friendly reminders like this one that I’ve been doled over the years. My favorite was when I told a “friend” that I was going to school for English Writing and he said, “Why? You don’t write.” And then last year he tried telling me that he has always been one of my biggest supporters. HAHAHAHA. Go fuck yourself.
• I guess I should just stick to keeping a photo blog.
• I sent Henry frantic 911 texts yesterday because I found out my beloved Gilad has a 24:7 streaming workout channel called Gilad TV AND I WANT IT.  When I was in 6th grade and my aunt Susie asked me to be a junior bridesmaid in her wedding that fall, I PANICKED. I was a fat kid. 5th and 6th grade were NOT good years for my vanity. So like any other 11-year–old, I started doing the Slim-Fast diet [yes, my family supported this; what assholes! (not you, Susie)] and a combination of Denise Austin and Gilad’s Bodies in Motion. I lost a ton of weight and even though I still struggled with it, I never really was “fat” again (until I had Chooch, thanks buddy). So now that I’ve been doing Weight Watchers, I’ve revisited my love affair with Gilad. Most of his shows are from the 80s and 90s and everyone wears LA Gear, but if it was good enough for me then, why can’t it be good enough for me now? (I also do some Jillian Michaels videos because she scares me and she’s hot.)

• There are still pendants left if anyone is interested! The nurse who did my wellness screening went on and on about how she liked the one I had on yesterday (it was a Pumpkin Head in a pink filigree frame) and I tried to get her to buy it. She just laughed. I don’t think she believed me, but I was being totally serious.

• I keep telling Mumford and Sons that no really, they DON’T have to wait for me, but they still keep playing that fucking song A MILLION TIMES A DAY like what they’re really saying is that they’ll wait for me to start liking their stupid songs. I don’t know what it is about that band, but they get under my skin.
  • However, I’ll shush a room and pause the world for Band of Horses.
• I want to punch the smell of mulch in the face.
• Some of my photographs were published in a real life magazine! (See below!)

• I’m trying to get Henry to guest post about the Jonny Craig show because I just don’t think my emotions will allow me to revisit that night without hemmorhaging all over the keyboard. At this point, my post would be pictures of Jonny flanked with this: OMGJONNY%^$&^$####&^^%*(!!!!!! <3333333!!! And then my tears would fry the keyboard.
• I bought a ring with a real cavity-inflicted tooth in it and everyone at work is like “GTFO with your gross jewelry.” You know it’s totally haunted. Lee said, “You’re totally going to break that. It’s so cumbersome!” and I reasoned that, “Yeah, but I don’t really do much.” He shrugged in agreeance and said, “And then there’s that.”

• This is about all the fun I can handle for today. Perhaps I will start writing real blog posts again some day even though they won’t be books, so it won’t “count.” Thanks, Chooch!

• Today in Pittsburgh, it is raining some sort of disgusting snowman shit, which affects me greatly now that I have to take the fucking trolley every day to work. (There is no end in sight to my bitching and whining about that, I’m sorry. You can mute me by clicking that “x” up in there in the corner though. I probably won’t even know you did it.) Anyway, today on my walk to the trolley, I was splashed with REALLY COLD WINTER WATER by some motherfucker who was BLASTING Eddy Grant’s “Electric Avenue.” Really, god?Who blasts that shit? Some motherfucker who is reliving his prom night in 1983 where he date-raped his hand in the backseat of his dad’s Pinto.  Next time, make it a real Electric Avenue and strike me with lightning or gtfo, god.
• Goddammit.
• I have so much to say about this whole Steubenville rape debacle but right now, all I can do is foam at the mouth and shake uncontrollably when I think about it. Two of my favorite things: complete & utter denegration of women and HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL PLAYERS.
• Yesterday, Chooch very seriously referred to a lamp as a “lightbulb holder,” which made me wonder if I ever even taught him the word “lamp” since I usually just say, “Hey, turn off the light thing.”
• Also yesterday, Chooch went to a birthday party at some ceramics place. One guess what he chose to paint.
• Jonny Craig got a private audition for NBC’s “The Voice” back in December and was all cocky about it. It was just revealed over the weekend that, after a background check, the producers of the show decided not to have him on the show because he is “too controversial.” Understatement, check. I laughed so hard about this, but then Henry of all people defended him and said, “This could send him into a tailspin!” I guess Henry is really hoping he doesn’t lose money on those tickets to next week’s show.
• In my dream last night, I was on a bus (like THAT would ever happen — um, KNOCK ON WOOD) with my friend Octavia, who gave me an apple and a citron, which I had to Google as soon as I woke up and Jesus, now all I can think about is some hardcore citrus mastication. Anyway, it’s also noteworthy that the bus was taking us someplace parallel with Hell and that there was no floor in front of me and I kept almost-falling out, which I think speaks volumes of my lifestrong resistance to taking public transportation.
• During the summer of 1999, I took bartending classes. I was partnered up with a wishy-washy middle-aged man named Milt. Really nice guy, but wasn’t very quick with picking up on mixology. A young, stocky Asian frat boy in our class, whose name I can’t remember (though I do have a video somewhere of him making a complete ass of himself), pulled me aside during one of the classes and told me that Milt was also the word for fish sperm and that was all I could think about every time I looked at Milt after that, like he was some undulating mound of fish jizz in the shape of a dowdy, slunched-over man with glasses and a saliva-crackling chuckle.
• • Milt didn’t graduate.
  • I play the SHIT out of his name in Ruzzle.
• Remember that one time I told you a story about when I was in bartending class? I graduated top of my class and never got a job.
  • That is probably because I only “kind of” looked for one.
• Can you imagine me as a bartender?
• Henry got all pouty yesterday because Chooch and I opted to stay in the car instead of going into Lowe’s with him. “That’s the Land of Sad!” I cried while Chooch simultaneously yelled, “That place sucks!” Good thing too, because Henry ended up almost running into his ex-hag. “Almost” because  the sound of her alcoholic voice completely activated his Duck & Run senses (and probably also simulated a burning sensation in his dick), so he was able to avoid any awkward scenes. Now imagine if Chooch and I had been there. You can’t slink away quietly from ANY situation when we’re tagging along. We might have made the evening news!
• I was supposed to be eating some sexual vegetarian food tonight with my friends but our reservation was canceled at the last minute due to poor communication at the restaurant. I’m very upset about this but we were promised a table at the next seating (god only knows when that will be) plus $25 off for each of us. I guess that is a consolation prize that’s worth taking. And now Henry won’t have his head explode trying to update my Weight Watcher points.
• Speaking of, I’ve lost 20 pounds since January, no big deal. I’m nearly ready to trade in my burlap sacks for some hot flea marketed muumuus.
• Chooch flipped out on our waitress at Eat n Park for not being able to fulfill his wish for a side of grapes. She laughed at him, and she’s lucky she didn’t get a fork in the hand.
• Speaking of! I don’t celebrate St. Patrick’s Day and here’s why. But I hope you all had a great time and that no one choked on green vomit.
• I am supposed to write a guest post for some Pittsburgh blogging thing which is hysterical since I can’t even write anything of worth on my own dumb blog.
• We are going to Lancaster this weekend to see Pierce the Veil and my crush Sam Link will be there, so “god” willing, I might be coming home with a new boyfriend. Merry Tate!
  • What? I’m on the market. Henry can’t WAIT to unload my supposedly high-maintenance ass.
    • Fuck. I’m going to be single forever.
• I went to Blue Flame on Saturday for lunch with my buddy Lisa, who is 12 weeks pregnant. My internal dialogue went something like this: “Hahaha, better her than me!” and “OMG I AM SO JEALOUS! I WANT A BAYBAYYYYYY!” Guess I should start looking for some man milt.
• I have some pictures to post too but who even cares anymore really.

• We were about five minutes into the commute to work when I realized I left my fruit at home.  Henry didn’t have time to turn around because he needed to get back to his own job, so of course I made this a Henry Problem. Like he is the one who left the container sitting on the couch. He should have put it in my purse! Why didn’t you put it in my purse, Henry?! I sat there, wailing about how my day is ruined — nay, my LIFE is ruined — and he was sweetly tossing out workarounds. Like, “Can’t you just walk to a store downtown and buy some fruit?” WHAT STORE!? Even my co-workers defended me on this one. “Yeah, if you want to pay $4 for a crappy apple,” Cheryl laughed and I was like, “OMG please call Henry and tell him that.” She laughed again and walked away but I wasn’t joking. I really wanted her to call Henry and tell him that. “I can bring it down for you later,” Henry offered, but I was in full-blown Indignent Girlfriend mode at this point and spat, “JUST FORGET IT.” We drove in silence for a few minutes until I realized that Henry was silently LAUGHING AT ME. “God forbid if I ever break up with you,” Henry said, which is of course the mother of all opening lines. “I’d feel so guilty. You’d probably wither away.” (That’s one way to lose weight, I guess.) Joke about it, Henry. Then I got to work and my computer wouldn’t turn on and then I knocked a bunch of pictures off my closet thing when I was hanging up my coat and I cried, “THIS IS ALL BECAUSE OF THE FRUIT!” (There were witnesses.) Luckily, Barb had an extra apple so my shakes have mostly subsided, knowing that I will have an apple to eat at 4PM. (I don’t eat my apples at 7PM anymore, now that I’m full-time. Keep up.) Just looking at the Honeycrisp in front of me, preciously perched near a picture of Jonny Craig, is keeping my heart rate steady. I need things to be a certain way, OK? I don’t like change. Anyway, when I returned to my office with Barb’s apple, I held it up for Cheryl to see and told her she didn’t have to worry. She just laughed because I don’t think she necessarily grasped the severity of the situation.
• Before The Fruit happened, Henry came home from work and immediately asked, “Why is the mayonnaise out?” God, Henry and his stupid questions. I told him it was because I was going to make tuna but didn’t feel like opening a can so I had leftover brown rice with barbeque sauce instead. So I forgot to put my shit away SO SUE ME.  It’s been a real day, you guys. A REAL DAY.
• I hate doing things for myself. Especially things that require me to stand in the kitchen. The kitchen makes me so sad and tired.
• I asked Henry the other night if he thought my mom would cry when she was identifying my body at the morgue. “Well, wait — why aren’t I identifying your body!?” he cried. Um, murder/suicide, Henry. Get with it.
• Speaking of my mom….oh wait, there’s nothing to speak of. Still aren’t talking.
• Chooch has his first pottery class tomorrow night! I took a half day so I can go to the first one, since everything happens on weeknights and I have to miss out because of my crappy work schedule. I can’t wait until he molds his first weener.
• Henry and I laid in bed Saturday night and talked about all of the music festivals we’ve traveled to over the years. It was pretty awesome to reminisce, until Henry started bringing up all the times I acted like a motherfucker, none of which was deserving of me having a BLUEBERRY MUFFIN thrown at my face, though, I promise you. Now I’m thinking about all the other conflicts which arose on the road and suddenly the cute little romantic stroll down memory lane is more like a foot-stomping Sumo stance down a flaming path of domestic dysfunction.
• Spent $50 on new Adidas Samoas for Chooch and after one day, he totally scuffed one of them. I threatened to make him start wearing Crocs if he doesn’t treating his shoes better, and that seemed to scare him into shape.
• I let Chooch watch “Sinister” and he totally wasn’t scared. Didn’t even get startled once. It’s no “Ju-On” I guess.
• We’re having cake at work in 20 mintutes but I don’t care because I have an apple. (It would be a different story if it were a Law Firm Lamb Cake, though.) OH, OF ALL THE DAYS FOR THERE TO BE CAKE.
• Speaking of Law Firm Lamb Cake*,  Andrea and I are collaborating on an Oh Honestly, Erin eye shadow set! And by collaborating, I mean of course that I say things like, “What about Henry’s Melon Shirt?” and then she does theactual labor. More details later!
  • I should probably take her to a Lil Wayne show as payment.
  • *This is already an MPZ eyeshadow shade and it is fucking regal. Get some.
• One night last week, Henry and I stayed up late, watching “Dexter” and making pendants. TRU LUV.
• On Saturday, I had lunch at Zenith with Kara. The guy who sold me my very first wheelchair was our waiter, and I said to him, “I don’t know if you remember, but you sold me a wheelchair over the summer…do you acquire wheelchairs often?” He said right away that he remembered me, because that was an unusual acquisition for him. “But now that I know that you collect them, I’ll definitely start looking,” he said enthusiastically. “I do have a really old syringe that I haven’t brought into the store yet….” he mused. “Oh god, please don’t get her started on syringes,” Kara muttered. And I guess she had a valid point there. Here are some pictures from our time at Zenith:

The owner set this down at the table next to us and deadpanned, “Jesus is watching you.” We were having a pretty serious conversation at the time, so it was super apropos and gave us a much-needed laugh.

Man, my grandma LOVED THE SHIT out of Julio Iglesias. I remember one time in the 80s, her Cadillac was stolen from the mall parking lot and all she cared about was that all of her Julio cassettes were in there.

I need to go back for this.

• Hey speaking of wheelchairs, the Craigslist guy finally replied to Henry, so Henry is going to go out to the dude’s dad’s house this week and hopefully not killed, because I really want that wheelchair.
• Had someone from my past profess their undying love for me today, which was not as flattering as you’d think. Just really sad.
  • Just to clarify, I don’t mean this to sound arrogant. I really am pretty sad about it.
• I want Danni to be The Biggest Loser.

You know my brain is all jacked up when I break out the bullet points. January can blow me.  

• Yesterday, Chooch paused as he was putting on his gloves and thoughtfully said, “I wish that there were gloves that you could wear and still be able to feel the fur of a cat when you pet it.” In that split second, I saw into the future: Chooch, 47-years-old, living in my garage with 18 cats and 24 bookshelves stuffed with every Goodwill cat book he ever made us purchase, going on his 87th prototype for said gloves.
  • At least his ridiculous cat love means he likely won’t grow up to be a serial killer.
• Henry and I kind of had a fight yesterday, but then we both started laughing. I’ve totally lost my edge.
• Today, there was a food fest at work. Today was also the day that I fit into a pair of pants that have been too tight for the last year. That totally made it easy for me to just say no to the food and cuddle up to my fruit salad.
  • The fact that I’m not feeling very “festive” at work lately also helped.
•  

• I caught Henry looking at house listings on his phone the other night! ALL ON HIS OWN! Maybe that  means we’re getting closer to officially looking, I don’t know.
• Chooch was accused of punching one of his classmates in the mouth two Fridays ago. This classmate also has the distinction of being our next door neighbor. Instead of coming straight to us, his mom (who has lived next door to us for like, 10 years – she’s Hot Naybor Chris’s stepdaughter-ish thing!) went to the vice principal the following Tuesday. We only heard about it because Chooch had a dentist appointment that day, so the VP told Henry when he went to the office to sign out  Chooch. However, their teacher knew nothing about it even though the kid was supposedly bleeding. You know who else didn’t know about it? Chooch. And I know he wasn’t lying, because I KNOW when my kid is lying. He lies just like me! We both start nervously laughing and then become belligerently defensive. And he did neither of those things, just sat there acting thoroughly confused. Meanwhile, the kid he apparently punched is a fucking Neanderthal Yinzer-bully who calls people “homos,” so if Chooch did punch him in some alternate-reality where he’s not preoccupied watching kitten videos on YouTube, then I’d give him a high-fucking-five and a goddamn donut.
  • I am so 110% over conflict right now, you have no idea. I’m too young for this chest-pain bullshit!
•  I listened to a lot of Eisley over the weekend. I forgot the soothing effect those sirens have on me.
• Weekends mean so much more to me now that everything is falling apart. They also go by so much faster.
• I realized the other day that the biggest difference between Now and Then is that Now I have an amazing support system. Then I had a bunch of bitches who wanted to see me fail.
•          I miss my Pappap so fucking much.
• What is the weirdest fruit you’ve ever eaten? My fruit salads have been pretty boring lately and I need some suggestions.  Henry bought a pepino melon and I guess I was supposed to be more excited about that, but come on — my melon fetish was so 2004. (This is not a metaphor for my sex life.) At least he “splurged” and bought a bag of cherries. Usually his canned response to cherries is: “Not for THAT price!” (Nor is this a metaphor for my drug habit.)
• This is what I look like now:
• I need a fucking adventure. Who’s with me?

A few years ago, when I actually tried to be a part of the Blogosphere, I participated in a Blog Bash that some blogger broad was hosting. Basically, everyone posted shit about themselves, answered questions, and then went around reading everyone else’s shit.

I thought it would be fun to re-post mine and maybe, if anyone out there gives a shit, they can make their own post on their blog. JUST A THOUGHT.

*********

• My birthday is July 30, 1979. That means I’m a Leo, which means I roar a lot. Which means I have an awesome singing voice.
• My boyfriend Henry and I have been together since 2001. We did a REALLY SICK THING which produced a boy named Riley, but everyone calls him Chooch. You can too. He’s 4 now. 4 is the age where kids get the  manual on how to be dicks, in case you didn’t know. And if you have a 4-year-old and are disagreeing with this, then I hate you. Can we trade?
  • ACTUALLY, at the time of this posting, he’s six and has since earned a black belt in dickness.
• I live in Pittsburgh! I hate it here!
• I hate water towers, power plants/abandoned factories, the ocean, outer space, glaciers, Alaska, Miley Cyrus and Katy Perry, the Steelers, liars.
• I like hockey!
• My past time is stalking people and playing with animal masks. (Yes, in tandem.)
• I like the Cure and most any music that features incessant screaming.
• Annoying people with reckless abandon is sort of my thang.
• I can turn any situation into a study of awkwardness.
• I am a girl!

5.) Let’s hear the story behind your blog title!

My grandma and I have a very illustrious history, full of afternoons  light-hearted flour fights during impromptu snickerdoodle bake-offs and reading Dickens together beneath a parasol.

That’s a lie. I don’t know why I typed that just now.

The truth is that I was always the black sheep, that a lot of my actions or ideas shamed my grandma. Even as a small child, when I would fuck up, she would sigh exasperatedly (sometimes even disgustedly while running a red pen across my name on her Will) and say, “Oh honestly, Erin.”

And not a day goes by where I don’t have some extent of an “Oh honestly” moment.

Now you know.

• Last Sunday, we were hanging out at Castle Blood (well, Henry was actually HELPING out at Castle Blood). I was super stoked because my friend Dawn is here from Canada for the Halloween season, so Chooch and I  totally pulled her away from her haunt-related duties and made her entertain us. At one point, we were playing 20 questions. When it was my turn to come up with something, I had only just barely said, “OK, I got one” before Dawn yelled, “Jonny Craig!”  “Dammit!” I hissed, just as Chooch burst into tears because he knew it was Jonny Craig too but Dawn had the nerve to beat him to the punch. They’re totally frenemies now.
• Speaking of haunted houses, I scared Chooch so good at his grandma Judy’s apartment (and Judy, too) that he punched me and then cried. I asked him how he’s going to go to any haunted houses when I scare him so easily and he said, “Yeah, well you’re SCARIER than a haunted house.” YESSSS. I finally feel some level of success in this world!
• But then I go to work and receive my penance every time I work late shift with my nemesis Brad, who sometimes scares me without even trying. One time last week, he came up behind me and smacked my pen out of my hand. I really need to buy some mace. Or eyes for the back of my head. I’m so paranoid there.
• I’ve been using Boggle to help Chooch with spelling, and it’s been totally fun (for me) because I love shaking up those letters. And being the best. Don’t worry, Chooch. Someday you’ll be able to obnoxiously correct all of Daddy’s 2nd grade-level spelling mistakes, too. (And yes, “stab” was the first word we found.)
• 
• Henry still hasn’t made a website for me to sell the pendants. “Aw, damn!” says absolutely no one.
• Me, bitching about priorities: “All I want to do is look for haunted houses, think about haunted houses, and text my friends about going to haunted houses.”
  Henry: *Frown of the Day*
  • No, seriously. This is all I have been doing. I have my little calendar pages printed out and people’s names/haunted attractions penciled in everywhere. I was poring over it at work the other night and one of my co-workers was like, “What are you doing? It looks like you’re trying to figure out your Trig homework.” BECAUSE IT’S SERIOUS BUSINESS, OK? You don’t keep haunted house journals since you’re 16 and then treat your October planner casually.
    • Unfortunately, this is the time of the year I always miss my mom.
• At work the other day, Amber¹ got a call from some dating site called It’s Just Lunch. She came over and was telling Barb and me about it, that her friend must have referred her. This perked my ears up. “Refer” you say? I got that super-creepy throaty giggle and raced to the website, where I entered all of Henry’s info, in spite of  Barb’s discouragement. About a half hour later, I got this text:     You’re welcome, Henry!
  • Then I started to panic. What if he actually found someone?! Barb calmly said, “Don’t worry. It’s just lunch.” Touché, Barbara! But then Amber reminded me that it costs $1000 to sign up, and I don’t think Henry is that desperate to get out. At least, I hope not. However, if I find out that he suddenly has a spare grand to spend on this when I’ve been sitting on a broken couch for the last 5 years, you can bet I’ll make it so he has a difficult time finding a woman who wants to date his castrated self.
• Some kid made the sign of the cross when he walked past our house on Thursday. Either this is because we live across from a church, or we’ve just really built up quite the reputation.
• Thursday night, Henry texted me all excited because he bought himself a Scooby-Doo Chia Pet. Apparently, he was deprived of one as a child. I was like, “OK, that’s wonderful, but please get Marcy toys while you’re out.” So he bought her (and stupid Willie) a bag of cat nip pom-poms, which he left on the dining room table.
  • The next morning when Chooch and I went downstairs, we found the Chia Pet on the floor, shattered into hundreds of pieces, and pom-poms scattered all over the house. At first, we pointed fingers at Willie, but as the day went on, Marcy was looking more and more suspicious.
• Barb yelled at Lee a few weeks ago (to her defense, he made an ill-timed, insensitive joke about the Paper Clip Situation at work, which I’m not sure I’ve ever explained on this blog, but it’s really stupid and petty and has Barb and I completely up in arms as it’s mostly directed toward us). Because of this, Lee has been calling her Darth Riley ever since and asked me to make this, which is now printed out and taped on her desk:

• Yesterday, Barb was trying to email her Darth Riley picture to her brother, but accidentally sent it to one of the Firm partners in Spokane, who is probably in his 80s and his picture tells us that he probably hasn’t laughed since 1959, while watching Leave It To Beaver. Her face was so red, and so was mine — FROM ALL THE HYSTERICAL LAUGHTER HEATING IT UP. I had to actually get up and run away from my desk because I was losing it so bad. She thinks she may have been able to recall the email, but I REALLY REALLY REALLY hope he saw it. I actually hurt my back from laughing!
• Before I left for work yesterday, Henry was watching me put on blush and said, “You’re so cute. You’re like a little doll.” But then he got another call from It’s Just Lunch and took it all back.

Tonight I’m having dinner with some of my favorite ladies, so I’m really looking forward to drinking a lot of wine and laughing some more at Barb’s expense. But right now, I have to go on Chooch’s tour of Halloween stores, where I will say goodbye to half of my paycheck.

Apologies for the bullet points. This is all I can muster right now, blog-wise.