We went back to Union Dale yesterday, this time with a fully charged camera battery (apparently our spare is dead forever) and I had a moderate level of success this time.

I was still a big pouty bitch and yelled at Henry a lot because obviously it’s his fault that I am an amateur photographer. (Blame Henry 2012 pins coming soon!

) I am mostly satisfied with the results and now willing to admit that perhaps I need the Xanax hookup.

Janna and I took Chooch to the playground so Henry could clean the house. It was apparently Dad Day there, presumably because all the moms were out fighting bitches over Black Friday bullshit.

One of the dads was super cute so suddenly I didn’t mind too much that my kid was begging me to push him on the swings.

Anytime someone new would arrive, he would rush over to them and start his interrogation, demanding to know the kid’s name and age. He waked back over to us at one point with Jack (3) and Jack’s dad, who had already been acquainted with Chooch as evidenced by the way he casually said to his son, “Riley wants to play with you Jack, go ahead.

”

I don’t know where Chooch gets it, because Henry and I surely are not socialites.

Then I got to witness Janna’s Special Olympic attempt at hopscotch and laughed so violently that I almost puked up the two apples I had previously eaten. (Tell me what your favorite apples are; I’m trying to eat them all.)

We actually talked about apples a lot at the playground, but you’re probably not surprised. I think Janna was tiring of the subject; she did, however, alert me to that fact that some places offer apples tastings so I will be researching this phenomenon soon.

Later, Henry took us to Pizza Hut, which is one of my least favorite places but Chooch got a certificate for a free pan pizza through the Book It program at school. Our waiter was some mentally-arrested man who was dying to tell someone that a lady, in the throes a Black Friday hysteria, pepper-sprayed other shoppers in some state that is not ours.

So he told us and none of us cared.

But Janna at least pretended to.

Chooch was begging for quarters for the claw machine, but I dared him to eat hot pepper flakes first, so he licked the top of the shaker which I think is even more gross so I gave his stupid ass the quarters.

Friday Night Ice Cream Club!

Henry had his own ice cream club with Marcy and it sickens me.

Later in the night, Henry picked up his mom who was spending the night since she’s watching Chooch today. The Penguins game was nearly over, with like, three minutes left in the third.

We were up 6-3 and his mom was sincerely concerned that we might lose. Then I gave her a glass of wine and she started divulging all kinds of stories about her past lovers and also some scintillating tales about Henry’s ex. Henry wanted no part of that little wine fest. I love buzzed Judy.

And now Henry and I are en route to Cleveland, where we will be gorging on greasy gourmet grilled cheese at Melt with our friend Jason and then heading to the House of Blues for the last night of the AP Tour. I’m so stoked to see Sharks again.

If my blog remains un-updated for more than 2 days, please assume that Henry purposely drove our car over a ravine.

It was pretty stupid.

My goal for 2012 is to kidnap/marry Jonny Craig. And also buy a better camera and learn how to use it.

During the pie party on Saturday, I was able to snap a few pictures of Sandy’s little girl, Elena. I’m looking forward to doing it again, with her Halloween costume, so then she too will hate me like all other kids do (including mine).

Later, I might write real words on here! I was going to last night at work, but I was too busy listening to the hockey game. And um, working of course.

I know blogging shouldn’t be a chore, but goddamn—-I woke up today and just the thought of all the stuff that happened over the weekend made me feel so exhausted. I guess that’s a sign that it was pretty successful! So while I have the pie party and an awesome night at Castle Blood with Henry and my new friends Rick and Tammy to frenetically type out, I wanted to first share some photos I took of my friends Lauren and Lindsay’s kids yesterday. I was really honored that they wanted me to do this, because I’m no professional, and even more excited when they suggested a cemetery locale. You know how I love me some boneyards.

We did some regular autumn-ish shots and then they got to change into their Halloween costumes. Some of those ones were shot on my mom and aunt’s street (where Lindsay’s parents also live so we all just parked in their driveway, lest my aunt come flying out of her house with a broom and a shotgun). Oh look, here are some of the photos now.

Dean & Olivia: Any kid with pink streaks in her hair is cool in my book, but now I miss my own pink streaks. I think she was scared of me at first (most kids are) but by the end she was posing and then demanding to see the shot on my camera’s screen. Total diva!

Anthony & Tiffany: Tiffany is Chooch’s female counterpart. She loves horror movies and was all excited for a second when she thought the pond at the cemetery was full of piranhas. She was mad toward the end of the second cemetery shoot because it was supposed to be scary but it wasn’t. I mean, Henry was lurking in the background—wasn’t that creepy enough?

These kids did great. Two hours, three locations, and one wardrobe change and they barely bitched. It was at least 80 degrees and I was sweating my ass off, so I can only imagine how hot they were in their costumes. The only one whining was me, though. (I have a low threshold for discomfort, plus Henry was there and his presence always exacerbates the bitch-baby in me.)

Then I spent the day panicking that I fucked it all up, because that is how someone with low self-worth rolls. (Or stumbles, as it were.)

Now, I have to get back to putting things in jars for my murder desk. Ciao for now.

[The final shots can be seen here]

In between Chooch’s extreme divo antics, we actually had a pretty good time at the Evans City Cemetery last Sunday, even though every ten minutes found me asking, “OMG are we going to get yelled at?” every time a random person would approach.

It always turned out to be a fellow zombie enthusiast though, some having traveled as far as New York and Tennessee. Wendy was about 4 seconds away from developing a Facebook friendship with one of the creepier of the graveyard tourists.

Zombie Guy Smiley

This is pretty much all Henry did the whole time: stood around with a stupid smirk on his face, playing Words with Friends and being of little assistance.

We dined on Burger King, post-boneyard romping. Andrea was intrigued by the “zesty sauce” I got with my onion rings, because the Burger Kings in California have apparently not caught on to this condiment craze.

She tried it and immediately deemed it “too zesty.” Maybe her palate is just “too pedestrian.”

Then we were treated to a long, obnoxious ride home because Chooch lost the magnet to his Drawing Thing pen back in the cemetery and had nothing to keep him busy but the sound of his whiny bitch-factory voice. Besides Andrea going back to California, that was probably the lowest point of the whole weekend for me.

I’m working backwards here, but I couldn’t wait any longer to post these. This definitely turned out to be my favorite cemetery photo shoot ever.

Chooch could have stood to be more cooperative (children! ugh), but it was overall a really fun day. Wendy even came out to spectate and then wound up a victim. Meanwhile, Henry leaned against the car for most of the time, playing Words With Friends and being annoyed.

It was awesome!

[Majority of the makeup effects were achieved using My Pretty Zombie cosmetics. Look for the limited edition Zombify set coming soon!]

Me: “I said to myself, ‘I’ll just watch one episode of The Lying Game and then go for a walk,’ but the next thing I knew, I was halfway into the third episode. That show is so good.”

Henry: “Wow. Your life is just so full.”

***

I know I should be spending my newly child-free days doing productive things while Chooch is in school, and perhaps one day that will happen. But right now, I’m having fun doing, well, nothing.  And to celebrate that theme, here are three pictures from my Epic Double Amusement Park OMG So Much Fun Day that I had on Saturday, because I just don’t feel like doing the whole “word” thing right now. Maybe tomorrow—I don’t think I’ll have any tween shows to catch up on tomorrow.

Speaking of free time, since I’ve got it by the DD-cups, if there’s anything you ever wanted to know, wish I wrote more about, etc etc, feel free to fire away. Even if you’re a lurking hater who’s been dying to hate. The stage is yours. And now, I’m going to take a walk around the neighborhood and pray no one recognizes me as that asshole who posted their picture on the Internet. And also? This might be one of the last days to lather up in  suntan oil.

I’m going to miss that smell.

I’m going to miss summer.

(But Henry is definitely not going to miss suntan grease smeared all over the steering wheel.)

(These are the companion photos to this post, which I wrote while still in Gatlinburg. I miss Gatlinburg. Also, I have not been able to go back and check out all my horrendous typos borne from a writing-derelict like myself using a PHONE to blog.)

In the AM:

It was all downhill from here. (Except that it was uphill.)

Not very peaceful with a Damien-caliber 5-year-old shrieking about how bad he hates you. Yay, parenthood.

Literally in the clouds.

I wish I had video of this. He would have lost a ton of fans.

Henry is not very strong so this was very short-lived. And besides—THE KID IS FIVE, HE HAS LEGS THAT WORK, LET THE FUCKER WALK ON HIS OWN.

God, he is so spoiled, something I know nothing about.

There were signs everywhere warning about bears. If there were any bears around that morning though, Chooch’s fucking big mouth certainly chased them away.

The infamous (by this point) Clingman’s Dome.

 There was a group of girls up there from China and randomly, some hiker came out of the woods and was like, “Oh I speak Chinese” and started showing off his linguistic skills. Within 3 minutes, they were all Facebook friends with him.

(No seriously, I watched them all pull out their phones and have a friending spree.) I felt like we were interrupting some intimate reunion, plus Chooch was still being a candy-assed cry baby, so I snapped a few hasty pictures and we left.

By the time I was taking this picture, the Chinese girls were all giggling behind me, having their picture taken with the creepy hiker.

Seriously, what are the odds.

In the PM:

Lunch at Mellow Mushroom, after a decidedly not-so-mellow morning.

Like he almost deserves this.

Go the fuck to sleep.

I just found out that one of my co-workers is going to Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge soon so now I hate her.

Hey, did you know we went on vacation? Oh. Of course you did. Am I being that annoying about it?  SORE-Y.

Anyway, here are the companion photos to this post, from our first full day in Tennessee. Look at them or don’t look at them; they’ll never know the difference.

I miss this stupid porch.

This was moments before The Accident. It’s all fun and games until somebody gets punched in the face by an overhang.

Minutes later: friends again. Are you serious? I’d have made Bill beg for it. Chooch is way too forgiving and he so does not get that from me.

He at least got an ice cream cone out of it. I’d have asked for more. Like maybe money. Lots of it. OR MAYBE HIS WIFE.

On a weener prowl.

Every other store was Jesus n’ guns. Henry was getting some pretty big ideas.

Trying to DROWN my kid now.

The courtyard inside one of the little shopping areas in Gatlinburg.

It made me wish I was wearing a Snow White dress.  Or at the very least, a tutu.

There was even a shoe store that sold TOMS. I had to hold back from buying a houndstooth pair.

So, this was an interesting week for Chooch and telephones.

We’re one of the many families that have eschewed a landline for cell phones, so Chooch has never known anything but a cell phone. However, he quickly caught on that if he knew Bill and Jessi’s room number, he could call them from the phone in our room. Trust me, he memorized that shit quicker than the Situation memorized the number the STD clinic.

But then this happened one day:

Chooch, holding the receiver out: Oh shit. I dialed the wrong number.

Me: Then hang it up!

Chooch, slams it down and then picks it back up: Ew, what’s that noise?

Me: Well son, that there is what the pioneers call a DIAL TONE.

It’s just so weird to me that  landlines are becoming so archaic that my 5-year-old is as confused as you or I would be if we had to send a telegram. Also, when I was five, I was playing on a motherfucking Speak and Spell, not a computer.

Now imagine his double-excitement when he got to stand inside a payphone.

Chooch wants to be photographed everywhere now, and he can be a little bitchy divo about it. “Not on THOSE rocks, THESE rocks!”

I’ve created a monster.

Chooch and Bill inside a genie’s bottle at some Optical Illusion attraction that was good for a few laughs.

Stupid me, I almost didn’t take a picture of him hugging the fiftieth wooden bear sculpture, but he made sure to school me in front of a bunch of strangers. Everyone laughed and thought it was so adorable. I was tempted to lift my shirt and show them the welts from where he beats me with a scalding poker.

Pretending to like each other.

I never intended to have this many posts about the fair but what can you do when there is such Big Fun involved. Here’s the leftover photos that I didn’t have time to use but now I do because Henry’s work alarm went off at 4AM and I thought it was the Let’s Go To Tennessee alarm. Henry told me to go back to bed. Yeah right.

Neither peach nor dumpling.

Henry’s ex, but smilier.

Chooch does not support apostrophe misplacement.

The Cobra: the ride that made me lose it on the Jersey Shore girls. This was actually taken while it was broke down earlier in the day. Yet I was still determined to ride it.

What everything looked like to me while riding the Cobra. Quite possibly the fastest spinning ride I’ve ever ridden. No bueno.

This old man was infatuated with Laura’s Magnum Corn Dog and made a big production of asking her about it. Later, he tried to coax his wife into choosing our table, but unfortunately she sat down at the one next to ours. It was a little alarming.

Chooch was being a real fucker. I have no idea how the whole area didn’t clear out. His least favorite time at the fair is when the Old People need to sit down and eat. I sort of side with him on this, but I was actually starving that day too and was really focused on dipping my coconut shrimp in the strange marmalade that came with it. I wish I was eating that right now.

I think this is the first time we actually explored the rest of the fair, like the taxidermy tent. At the exit, there was some small stuffed animal standing erect (I actually didn’t pay attention to what it was, meer cat maybe?) but it had a sign that begged for hugs. When Chooch obliged, some old man on an oxygen tank rasped into a small microphone, “Oh, that’s nice. I like hugs.” Chooch made me do it next and the old man said, “Oh, I like your hugs, too” as my boobs smashed against the animal’s face. It was completely creepy.

Chooch got to build a toy basketball hoop (boring) which would fast become the bane of the day.

And fish. (Boring.) Henry got all Bass Master 5000 on him.

Ahhh, that guy to the left! Totally belongs in the Overlook.

Scooby Shack cost a dollar extra, and the sign says NO REFUNDS all big and boss-like. Chooch swore he would walk through it so I slapped two 1’s in the hand of a chubby old lady carny only to have Chooch peer around the first corner and say, “Nope. Too scary.”  Little bitch baby ran back over to Henry but I wasn’t trying to waste my dollar too so I walked through. Alone. I turned the first corner and then ran the rest of the way. It was fucking dark in there, you guys. And a little scary. I mean, I was in there ALONE. #excuses

So that concludes my account of the fair. I can’t believe summer is almost over. Think I’ll go cry about it.

But first I should probably pack some stuff. I’m getting really excited to resurrect my Henry and the Weeners series on this vaca!

Spending a birthday at the county fair seems like a great idea on paper: gut-churning rides, complimentary (if not downright sleazy) carnies, fried desserts (calorie counts are nil on birthdays, everyone knows that), the cacophony of laughing children and tractor pulls (forgetting for a moment that I hate children and anything with even the slightest redneck-tilt).

Yes, a perfect day!

But then you add in Henry, whose face threatens to crack a million different ways if even the slightest hint of a smile creeps upon his lips; Blake, who is apparently an 80-year-old retiree in an 18-year-old’s body, adverse to sunlight and complaining of back pain and lethargy all day; Chooch, who is a little motherfucking birthday killer-in-training who makes the day all about HIM HIM HIM; and Janna, who won’t ride anything aside from a carousel and a 20-second-long Haunted Mansion ride that Henry’s SAT score out-scares.

Not to mention the fact that these assholes weren’t constantly fawning over me and winning me plush Family Guy characters. IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY, NEED I REMIND YOU.

Blake and his new friends, planning their upcoming move to Florida.

Awkward Standing.

At first glance, I was like, “Aw shit, this fair might be pretty good.” I mean, it was run by Powers Great American Midway, after all, and I am obsessed with them. However, it was only about half the size of the Big Butler Fair, and I’ll tell you: That fair can spoil a bitch. Power’s light blue unit brought along some choice rides. (Is it sad that I know which “unit” PGAM deployed to the Fayette County fairgrounds? Maybe I look at their website too much.) And I saw lots of familiar carny faces, one of which was Kirk’s! I didn’t talk to him, though. What’s the point when my lame non-carny boyfriend was glued to my side all day?

But the layout of the fair sucked. And it was super muddy and smelled like sewage, but that was probably because Henry kept standing so close to me. Still: 100% better than the shitty Washington County Fair. (I go to county fairs a lot. It’s kind of become A Thing.)

You know you go to a lot of fairs when you start to recognize carnies, is all I’m sayin’.

Blake: Jeepers, it’s so hot! I think I’m dying! And I left my cane at the home and missed my 3:00pm dinner! I wonder if Dad has any individually-wrapped prunes in his pocket before I pass out.

Thank God Lisa and her husband Matt met us out there a few hours after we arrived. They joined us in standing around awkwardly, which is something that people need to master before even attempting to hang out with me. (I suggest going to a crowded store and standing right in front of a doorway or at the top of an escalator for practice. Do not move when you find that you are blocking foot traffic, and ignore the scowls you inspire. Only then can we hang out.)  Lisa was in a really good mood and I like to think it’s because she knows how delicate of a situation my birthday is, like the entire premise of Speed, with less bus more birthday cake, but actually Lisa is always pretty chill and somehow wasn’t completely put off by the foul moods of my companions who need to be reminded that SOME PEOPLE AREN’T LUCKY ENOUGH TO GET TO GO TO THE FAIR.

Fuck!

Within minutes, Chooch claimed Matt and I’m sure everyone at the fair assumed they were father and son after that. I’m sorry, Matt. But Henry and I were relieved to be off the hook for awhile.

***

A week before the fair, I was on the phone with Lisa.

“I hope the fair is a good one,” she said thoughtfully.

“Um, Lisa? Of course it will be. It’s run by Powers Great American Midways,” I informed her haughtily.

“I don’t know what that means.”

THAT’S BECAUSE SOMEONE DOESN’T READ MY BLOG.

***

Lisa and Matt agreed to ride the Orbiter with me immediately after they arrived. I was SO EXCITED. Finally! I get to ride something moderately extreme! But then we got in line and I saw it said “No single riders” and those asshole words are ALWAYS BEING SNEERED AT ME at fairs because I am perpetually single in this world of grinding traps of pleasure (amusement rides, not vagina dentata).  I looked at Janna who had accompanied us to the line and she said no before I even asked her. Way to tag along on something you’re not a part of, then Janna! So I had to run over to Henry and Blake, who had combined to form a Dildo-ic Duo while Chooch rode some stupid train operated by Kirk.

I hadn’t even approached them yet and I was already absolutely wailing about how Janna ruined my life and wouldn’t ride with me and Blake, while I was still approaching them mid-run, said no. Henry, however, said: “Fine.”

“What?” I asked in surprise.

“I said fine,” he sighed.

I guess he was trying to make up for the fact that he failed epically in the birthday present department once again. (Seriously, he got me a shirt that I already have, which proves that he doesn’t look at me. Ever.) This was the SECOND ride he rode on! (We rode on the Swings when we first got there. They made him sick.)

Oh, I was so happy! And the best part was that it took so long for the ride to get loaded to capacity, that Henry and I had plenty of time to talk about Jonny Craig!

Henry bitched about the Oribiter for the rest of his time at the fair. “I have cold sweats,” he kept complaining, though I’m not sure to whom because last time I checked, his mommy didn’t come with us and she’s the only person who gives a shit about him. He didn’t ride anything else after that, though I kept trying to con him into being my partner on the Skydiver, since it’s less commitment that being my partner for life. He kept saying, “We’ll see,” which everyone knows means NO.

After Chooch and Matt, Lisa, Janna and I had our turn at sliding down the Fun Slide, which I hadn’t done since I was a kid and good goddamn is that scary. Ascending the steps alone made me clutch my heart. I felt like there was going to be a religious cult waiting at the top to push me back down the steps into God’s eternal arms. It was like walking into the hospital on D-Day and wanting to run back out the doors but having 3 nurses pull you back in because “that baby’s gotta come out one way or another, sweetheart!” Longest climb of my life.

“I’m scared,” I told the Mexican carny who smiled, probably assuming I said, “Let’s go fuck behind that lemon cart you pushed across the border.” What? The Pennsylvania border, you guys.

Lisa thought it was the funnest thing at the fair, Janna had no comment, and I was just glad I didn’t slide through piss, shit, vomit, a chewed-up wad of Skoal or semen. And by “it,” I mean the Fun Slide, not Mexican carny sex. I know you were probably confused.

Things took a turn for the worse when I decided I was ready to eat something and made everyone halt and bow to my whims. I ended up getting a small bowl of haluski, which seemed like an OK choice as far as keeping my stomach lining primed and at the ready for vigorous riding.  (And yes, finally I’m talking about sex!)  Besides, it was either that or throw away 16 years of vegetarianism for some unidentifiable meat on a stick. There was some lame square dance bullshit happening inside the 4H building, so we all sat around and pretended to care about that while I ate. (Lisa really did care, though. She likes the simpler things in life.) This was about the time Chooch turned into the biggest prick of all the fair, and Blake did nothing but antagonize him which only increased Chooch’s crowd-drawing by 500%.

I attempted to not look like I belonged to the two of them by focusing my attention on the asshole inside the 4H building who was singing the most ridiculous square dance songs for these idiotic plaid-tastic children to clomp around to. I almost wished he had CDs for sale so I could buy one and break it in front of his face. God, get fucked with your pathetic farm melodies, douchebag square dance warbler.

In the middle of the Chooch & Blake: American Assholes show, there was an older lady sitting nearby (the blond Peg Bundy in the background of the above picture) who said about Chooch, “Boy he sure is cute” but what she meant to say was, “Damn, child. Your mama needs to put you in a cage because you are acting like one hell of a mother fucker.” And then to me, she said, “We just ate some fried Oreos for dessert. Boy they sure were good!” and what she meant by that was, “Bitch, why don’t you go to the other side of the fairgrounds, far away from me, and choke your bastard child on some fried Oreos, because he is being one hell of a mother fucker.”

Chooch flipped over a chair in response while I pretended that Janna was his mom.

The square dance brigade had some young child canvassing the area with literature. He approached me with his stack of white and green papers and said, “Would you like one, they’re free?”

“I want a green one,” I said with just the right drop of bitchy entitlement. He looked slightly stunned, like no one had ever bothered to make a color request before. While he shuffled through the stack in search of a green one, I said smugly, “It’s my birthday.”

Lisa and Janna were watching this pan out. Lisa looked mildly amused and Janna looked like she was bracing herself for the ‘splaining she was going to have to do to the kid’s mom by the time I was done antagonizing him. This is just how I talk to children: in a very demeaning, ironic way. They seem to like it.

Meanwhile, the guy who was inside singing the square dance “songs” promised “this next one” would “speed up.”

“You should join our square dance group!” He sounded nervous, slightly intimidated by me. Just how I like boys to be.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, as I folded up the paper. (The age limit is 20, by the way. THAT KID RULES FOR THINKING I’M NOT OLDER THAN 20.)

“This next one” still hadn’t “sped up.”

“Dylan!” a lady called from inside the 4H house. “Come dance to this last song!” Sure, maybe there was some plaid lass inside who missed being partnered-up with Dylan, but I have suspicions that this lady just didn’t want him near me anymore.

“Yeah!” I yelled in my best “I’m riding the Wacky Worm, motherfuckers!” impression and when he looked at me all startled-like, I gave him a thumbs-up and said, “Do it! Wooo!”

Lisa hadn’t heard the lady call for him in the first place, and admitted later that she thought I was just spontaneously excited, though she was confused why I was telling some young boy to “do it.”

Then I called Dylan my “new son” and Chooch got all upset. I win at parenting.

I have no recollection of Henry being anywhere near us that whole time.

Oh apparently he was off supporting his cocaine habit.

I told Dylan I was going to watch him, but that was actually the time we rose up as a group and went to the petting zoo. Fucking with children is the one true talent your God gave me.

Here is all I remember about the petting zoo: I relayed my birthday woes to a camel and then Chooch fell in a pig sty and Henry had to take him and Blake home.

Coincidentally, my night really picked up after that! Janna bought me root beer in a tin mug from an old broad who tried too hard to sway our decisions and Lisa and I rode the Gravitron with the cast of Jersey Shore. It was fabulous!

Lisa encourages me to take pictures of every little thing she does. She’s like Chooch, but grown.

The only downside to the Fair: After Hours (read: After the Douches Left) was that neither Lisa nor Matt would ride the Zipper with me. I was only able to ride it once, earlier in the day before Blake’s desire to drink a glass of Metamucil and take a nap got the best of him. We talked a little bit about music while trapped inside the Zipper’s jaws, but I could tell he wasn’t having too much fun.

Everyone is growing up but me.

Janna, Lisa and I rode this moderate thrill ride called the Tornado, which is pretty tame but Janna was still clutching her rosary and trying not to re-eat her haluski while Lisa manually spun our car around on top of giving Janna dating advice. My favorite part was when the ride ended and Lisa’s safety bar didn’t release. She pulled it toward her, hoping it would spring back, but it only made it tighter. I fetched the carny and then ran away to stand outside of the ride’s gate by Matt, who had been relegated to little more than a Purse Tree at that point.

The carny gave Lisa a hard time for awhile before manually releasing the bar for her. As she and Janna approached Matt and me, Lisa yelled, “And I love how Erin just ran away!”

Behind her, looking a gorgeous shade of gangrene from her jaunt on the Tornado, Janna irritably mumbled, “Yeah. She does that.” Possibly Janna’s way of suggesting that Lisa spends more time with me.

Janna bought* me a birthday ice cream cone from a girl who had been punched in the eye. Lisa opted for more scatastically phallic fare. Then we said goodbye to the fair and immediately upon leaving the parking lot, Janna’s GPS lured us out onto un-lit backwoods lanes and I’m not going to lie: It was scarier than riding the Zipper in a lightning storm with the cage unlatched. This was after Janna got raped by a bug.

(* This mostly happened because when Henry left the fair, so did my money.)

Happy fucking birthday to me, to me, to me.

Here, have some pictures of the fucking fair. I will write more later.

I have a love/hate relationship with my Lensbaby lens. Barely use it because it can mostly go suck one.

Maybe the only thing that didn’t piss me off all day. Although, he did try to spit on me.

Who doesn’t though.

Henry: Portrait of a Serial Birthday Killer.

The other birthday killer.

Miserable people.

Chooch and his new dad.

More later, if you can stand it.

Chooch has lived in a houseful of animal masks since he was a baby, so stuffing a pig mask on his head in the middle of summer ain’t no thang. But when he saw that Kara’s not-quite-2-year-old son Harland was less than tickled with his new porky visage, it became a calculated game in torture and torment.

It’s probably for the best that I’m not giving him a younger sibling; the way he antagonizes other children makes me see so much of myself in him.

Henry is right: we are so similar it’s more alarming than cute.