July 2008

July 2013

I pretty much spent the whole day sitting: Sitting at Chooch’s piano lesson. Sitting at my friend Patty’s birthday dinner. Sitting for nearly 3 hours getting my tattoo finished. Sitting at the computer editing photos. I think that tomorrow will be a day full of moving.

I hate sitting!!

Sometimes, Chooch and I give Henry a break and venture off on our own, except that by “on our own,” I mean “definitely with a chaperone.” Originally, Chooch and I (+ our chaperone Janna) were going to go to see The Secret of NIMH at the Hollywood Theater, because that was one of my favorite childhood movies of all time but no way does it still make me cry, OK? But then I saw that the sun was going to be out all day and I didn’t want to be in a dark theater during that, and it’s all about me anyway so I didn’t really ask Chooch and Janna if that was OK.

Instead, we went to Oakland because I thought it would be fun to show Chooch the Nationality Rooms at the Cathedral of Learning, which is part of the University of Pittsburgh. (Maybe some people reading this aren’t from here, I don’t know! God.) I’d call it my alma mater, but I didn’t actually graduate and I’m not a liar.

On the drive there, I jokingly said I had to quit college because I became a mom*.

“To who?” Chooch asked, and then within a minute of me posting that exchange on Facebook, someone corrected Chooch’s grammar. Thank god for the Internet. But you know, I guess that’s my fault for typing my conversations verbatim, instead of editing to make my 7-year-old sound like a pretentious grammar douche and not, you know, a 7-year-old. He’s got the rest of his life to learn how to talk like Mr. Belvedere.

*(Anyway, this isn’t true. I quit because I was bored, frustrated and realized that college definitely wasn’t for me. I mean, it didn’t do much to help me, because luk att how turrible i still write-z0rz.)

As soon as I parked the car, I realized that I didn’t have my wallet which was devastating because the plan was to eat lunch there afterward and I’m not going to lie, I was already starving.

When you walk into the Cathedral, it’s like being swallowed by a gothic cavern. There’s this amazing Great Hall that would make Hogwarts’s figurative weener shrink; you set foot in it and it’s like being transported back in time. The Cathedral of Learning was my favorite thing about Pitt. It had been about 6 years since I had gone back, so the novelty of it was definitely there.

You know what else was there? Chooch’s Grand Canyon-esque echo. Just what everyone there wanted: my kid’s ever-running mouth in primitive surround sound.

The audio tour for the Nationality Rooms isn’t free, but the rooms are open to the public regardless so we just took our own tour, renegade-style. Whatever that means. I’m on my fifth cup of coffee. This was just as well, because Chooch’s attention span did not allow us to stay in any one room for more than 3 minutes. (Except once, and it wasn’t even a nationality room; just a regular classroom as non-descript as Henry’s wardrobe.)

Chooch’s attempt at college math. In his head, this made sense.

A ceiling in one of the rooms, the nationality of which I do not recall because I quit caring after the fourth room when I noticed that Chooch was no longer carrying his phone and Bunny (I didn’t even notice that he brought that damn thing!) so we had to backtrack and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s backtracking.

(I just imagined myself having to backtrack in Alaska and I think I’m done with this day now.)

Chooch made a beeline for the blackboard in every room and immediately left his mark. In a lot of the rooms, there was the same writing in Chinese characters, so Janna and I started saying, “Looks like Chinese Chooch was here” and of course Chooch didn’t get it which made it even more fun to say.

We kept trying to get him to look at the shit in each room, but he was under the chalk’s spell. So basically it was for the best that I left my wallet at home and couldn’t pay for the audio tour.

 “Guys, come on.” Sometimes I really have no idea where he gets his independence, but that kid walked around like he owned the place.

Don’t worry, Chalkboard NARCS & Religious Zealots, I erased it.

Sadly, being a non-traditional student (and part-time to boot) didn’t leave me with too many fond memories, though a painting of Copernicus in the Polish room recalled a time when I made Janna enroll in the same Magic, Medicine and Science class, because see above where: I really have no idea where my kid gets his independence. This was back in 2004, Jesus Christ—TEN YEARS AGO. (See? I don’t need no college degree.) Anyway, that class was a piece of shit and our instructor was some young broad named Holly who hated us because we sat in the back of the class with some lady we befriended and we would literally sit there and write shit to each other in our notebooks while Holly and her class pets would go off on tangents about Plato’s Cave.

Anyway, one of the things Holly would make us do was read a million pages of super-dry Galileo bullshit from our overpriced text book and then write an outline, except that she called it some fancy word steeped in academia because “outline” was too pedestrian. Turns out I was a natural at these bullshit papers, and you know who wasn’t? Janna. On the first one we got back, Holly had scribbled angrily in red marker about how Janna had PLAGIARIZED and to this day, this is the best thing that ever happened to me in college. Not making the Dean’s List. Not having my Creative Non-Writing instructor tell me I was her favorite student (hahaha). Not watching my College Algebra teacher repeatedly Windex herself in the face instead of the overhead projector.

No, it was Janna being accused of plagiarizing her HOMEWORK. That was the best fucking day.

Having to PeeSoBad in the Italian room.

 Seriously, this kid. I tell him, “Go stand there so I can take your picture” and he does something Chooch-y every time.

Ladies Room Selfie. Yeah, that’s right. When Henry’s not around, Chooch loafs in the ladies room.

Haha. “Loafs.”

We walked past the room where I had an English Comp class and that made me think about the time Christina was visiting from Cincinnati during the spring of ’05 and she decided to come with me and hang out on campus while I had class. I specifically told her what time class was over and I made sure she had the room number memorized so I EXPECTED her to be waiting outside the door like a good fucking puppy at exactly 3:30.

Of course, she was nowhere to be found, and this was before either of us had a cell phone (I was notoriously anti-cell phone; she was just notoriously poor) so I marched all over the fucking Cathedral, breaking out into a sweat and eventually having to stop into the bathroom to pee because hide and seek has historically always revved up my bladder. Finally, I ran into her as she meandered out of a stairwell, no big deal.

“Oh, was class over early?” she asked casually, BECAUSE THAT BITCH THOUGHT SHE WAS EARLY. Do you know why she thought she was early? Because she never set her watch ahead for daylight savings time and she was actually an hour late because she was too busy lounging outside in the grass, watching people JOUST.

I was only That Mad because everything Christina did made me That Mad.

Thoroughly interested in reading about this giant tome of sheet music. Thank god.

I’d love to see how he sits in his actual 2nd grade class.

I found the aforementioned College Algebra classroom from 2006. “This is where I used to sit while you were in my belly, I mean, sitting next to me in your unhatched pod,” I sighed with maternal warmth to Chooch, who was 100% not interested.

Like so many dummies, I was forced to take remedial college math courses because my cumulative high school math average was not cutting it. (Somehow in high school, they kept putting me in advanced math classes even though I kept telling my guidance counselor that I was bad, just plain no good at math.) But I didn’t hate college math because I had the best instructor ever. Joanne was the fucking shit and quite literally gave me so many “a-ha!” moments from which I definitely would have benefited in high school. Her classes were the only ones I enjoyed going to and actually spoke to the other students. (I’m still friends with one of them IRL, actually. You know, as opposed to just in Toon Town.)

On the first day of that class, we had to go around the room and introduce ourselves. When it was my turn, I blurted out, “AND I JUST FOUND OUT I’M PREGNANT!” Totally taboo to make such a public declaration so soon into the pregnancy but I was so excited. This class was full of older, non-traditional students, so no one really shirked away from me like the younger students did in my geology class, but that might have been because my pregnant, bloated belly got stuck behind a desk one day, and that was when the professor had to go and get me a desk that had a detachable chair. That was a really awesome memory.

Anyway, this particular math class was split in two, but most of us ended up together during the spring semester too, and those sneaky brats, along with Joanne, had a fucking baby shower for me during class one day! (Much to  the chagrin of the men in that class.)

I still get all teared up when I think about it. OK, sorry Janna the Plagiarist, but maybe that’s my favorite college memory.

Report if you see bullying to the chancellor’s office, is what that is supposed to say, but Chooch kept saying “chandelier.” This was after he tried to force his way into said “chandelier’s” office. Thank god it was Sunday.

And locked.

Like real life college students, we were starving and thirsty, so Janna suggested that we go to the basement and see if the vending machines took credit cards but they only took Panther Cards, which are the dumb college card things and Chooch was like, “YOU WENT HERE SO WHERE IS YOUR PANTHER CARD? USE YOUR DAMN PANTHER CARD!” But Mean Henry would never let me put money on my Panther Card because what…I’d use it to buy Adderall? Who knows. And even if I did have one back then, hello, I haven’t been a student since 2008; go get your own Panther Card, Doogie.

Look at me, giving my kid a taste of true college life! Spread your wings, Chooch!

Even though we were ready to collapse with hunger and thirst, we’d have been remiss to leave without taking Chooch to the 36th floor to take in the nauseating view.

Man. What a great afternoon.

****

When we went home to retrieve my wallet, Henry was lounging about like the goddamn Sultan of Brookline.

“I can’t believe you didn’t check in on us, not even once!” I cried.

“I knew where you were,” he said casually, so now I’m convinced he’s having me tailed.

I’ve got nothing important to say (like, when do I ever?), but I wanted to post these pictures because it was nice to be outside for a little bit even the weathermen lied and it was definitely not in the 50s. Still, we decided to be nice owners and let our animal burn off some energy before putting him back in his cage.

And then Henry made a friend. I guess her parents haven’t warned her of the dangers of urban lumberjacks.

#frownoftheday

That hair.

Well, I’m going to peace out because I ate 20 too many birthday cake M&Ms, then used spraypaint in the basement, and now I feel like I might need walk the ol’ fingers down the throat. (#casualbulimic)*

Hope your weekend is just really fucking swell, you guys.

*(FACETIOUSNESS. Though I should hope I’m no one’s role model.)

After what seems like months of ice, snow and doom, we had a beautiful springlike Saturday here in Pittsburgh. Most of the snow had melted and the sky was this crazy color that I think I heard people calling “blue”? So, of course we spent he afternoon in the cemetery. And it felt incredible to have the sun hit my face and not the usual 80 pounds of knitted winter protection that’s been wrapped around it lately.

I took a ton of pictures in the cemetery that day, because: SUN. Considering the next day was back to being devoid of color, it was nice to go back through my phone and cry smile at the memories.

Not-Snow Boots!

FUCKING SUNSHINE, WHAT’S THAT?!

“I’m going to stick this pinecone in daddy’s buttcrack.” Seriously, why does Henry even let any of us walk behind him?

There wasn’t much snow left on the ground, but never fear—Chooch found enough of it to terrorize us with.

“Don’t worry,” Killjoy Henry responded sarcastically to our constant gushings of how nice it was that day. “It’s supposed to snow tomorrow.”

“I know, and that’s sad,” Chooch sighed. “That’s just sad.”

*******

Spent the rest of the weekend painting, re-watching “Twin Peaks” and crying over Team USA hockey. It didn’t snow on Sunday like Weatherman Hank predicted, but it was still dreary and 50 Shades of Pittsburgh Gray, which is pretty much just as shitty. How was your weekend!?!

Henry, walking alone after Chooch and I got distracted by a mausoleum with a busted-out window.

“Did the school call you?” Henry texted me yesterday at work, except it was missing a question mark because schools apparently didn’t teach kids about punctuation way back when Henry attended.

I checked my cell phone and work phone, but I only had a staggering succession of 1-800 numbers in my call log. The usual.

And then of course I panicked, because the school doesn’t usually call to tell you that hey, your kid was exceptionally well-behaved today and literally no incidents occured and we’re going to have him tested for Absolute Brilliancy because we’re pretty certain he has it.

It’s usually something terrible.

After I told Henry no, I didn’t receive any calls, it of course took him about 15 minutes to answer me, 15 minutes in which my blood came to a rolling boil and turned my nerves al dente.

“Jeremy bit him on the arm, through his sweater and broke the skin,” said Henry’s eventual text.

Cue immediate freak-out session at my desk. Lots of “WTFFFFFF?!!??!?!?!”s and “OMG!!!!!!!”s were texted until Henry calmly told me that Chooch was OK and then reminded me who Jeremy is.

A few months ago, Chooch randomly said to me, “You know Jeremy in the after school program? He has a fake leg. I know this because it fell off today.” And then he went back to doing whatever he was doing like it was no big thing.

Jeremy has a few things working against him. The leg, obviously. And he wears a helmet because of some kind of brain injury. He is only 4, in preschool, and very small for his age. I hoped that his parents weren’t bracing themselves for some kind of empty threats of a lawsuit or bullying accusations. Because we’re not like that. Shit happens. Still, I sent Chooch an email to check in on him, and this is how little of a shit he gave about this situation:

Oh, and he beat Guess the 90s because he found a goddamn cheat online.

I told Jeannie and Mean Amber (who isn’t that mean this week considering she saved my spider plant’s life) the story last night, and just hearing the words “fake leg” and “helmet” come out of my mouth made me pause for a second and truly comprehend what a ridiculous story this was. I’m glad Chooch is OK so that we can all laugh about it!

After work last night, Chooch was telling me what happened in greater detail than the bullshit texts Henry was sending me. He’s seriously the worst at relaying any sort of information that doesn’t pertain the kind of porn he wants to watch.

I kept wanting to stress to him that he shouldn’t hold this against the kid; I don’t want him to get into the art of retaliation…yet.

“I know,” Chooch mumbled from the backseat, more interested in the video he was watching on his phone. “It’s because he has mental problems.”

“Chooch!” I cried. “That’s not nice to say!”

“What? That’s what the teacher said,” Chooch shrugged. So, add “mental problems” to that list up there, apparently.

After a little more pressing, Chooch assured me that everything was fine, and that, inspired by Jeremy’s cannibalistic tendencies, all the kids in the after school program played Zombies together afterward.

I wish adult conflicts were this easily resolved.

“I can’t believe he was bit that hard and it wasn’t worse than it was,” I said to Henry that night.

“Well, he was wearing that thick sweater,” Henry pointed out.

Yes, that thick sweater that I MADE HIM WEAR. So basically what we have here is a case of a mommy saving her son’s life.

You’re welcome, son.

(Even though Chooch was fine, the school still urged Henry to call the doctor yesterday. He needs five days worth of antibiotics, but he doesn’t have any helmet rabies or anything.)

ETA: Just now, I looked at the bite wound again and asked, “Jesus Chooch, how the hell did you not cry??”

“Because I’m a survivor,” he casually explained, and then went to bed.

1. Piano lessons are going surprisingly well. After the second one, he was like, “WTF, I have homework in this now? Fuck this noise”; but then, last Saturday, Cheryl taught him one little part of Jolly Old St. Nicholas (seriously, why) on the black keys and told him to practice this week. He did one better by teaching himself the whole song, on the white keys too, and then MEMORIZED it. And then taught ME! Considering the way he half-asses his book reports and pretty much anything else I ask him to do, this was a welcome surprise. Maybe piano really is going to be his thing? It’s only been a couple of weeks though so I’ll try not to flounce around on Facebook, pegging him as a prodigy.

Even though he practices while kneeling on a wheelchair like some crazy eccentric. THE SIGNS ARE THERE.

2. And then I wanted to try out my new Hipstamatic Sochi-inspired film pack and this happened.

3. Did I ever tell you the story of Janna’s kitten, Newton? I’ll pretend you said no. So Janna got a kitten last October and was all, “Help me name my cat something other than Cat, please” and then proceeded to reject EVERY SINGLE NAME Chooch and I suggested. Chooch was really pissed that she swatted away his suggestion of “Ted Nugent” like some errant fly on a hot summer’s day, and decided he was just going to go ahead and call him that anyway. Except that somehow it changed to “Ted Nugent’s Cat” which I think is way better anyway. Anytime Janna starts a story with “Newtie” (which always sounds like she’s saying “Nudie,” like “And then I was laying in bed and Nudie climbs on my face and puts his wet butt down on me” so then I’m setting myself up for some fantastically skeezy story that never develops), Chooch interjects with “Ted Nugent’s Cat” and Janna just sighs and continues with whatever tale of domestic mischief her cat has inflicted upon her apartment that day.

Here’s an Instavid of one of the many failed nomenclature sessions:

ANYWAY. The point of learning you about Janna’s damn cat is so that I can share the Valentine Chooch made for Ted Nuget’s [sic] Cat as a big Eff You to Janna, and then you can all say, “D’aww!” I mean, if you’ve read this far.

This concludes the Trifecta of Chooch. LATER GATOR*!

*(My blood sugar level is low, I think.)

Another goddamn snowy Sunday.

Henry wouldn’t take us anywhere yesterday because oh no, snow. The big difference between Henry and me, aside from that one us doesn’t have a weener (I know, that could be either of us), is that Henry is fine doing NOTHING all the livelong day. Not me. I need action. I suffer enough throughout the week to feel pretty damn entitled when the weekend rolls around. And I was really looking forward to this particular one! I had a breakfast date with Wendy and Jeannie, Chooch’s piano lesson, Kristy was going to come over Saturday night to teach me how to drink beer without looking like I had just let someone ejaculate in my mouth for the first time, and then we were going to go to a different skating rink on Sunday. BUT THEN: SNOW.

I could only take so much before I went to Chooch’s room, threw together a random outfit, and said, “PUT THIS ON, WE’RE GOING OUTSIDE FOR A PHOTO SHOOT” and he was all, “NO I HATE YOU” but then I bribed/threatened him and of course I got my way in the end.

See? He’s fine! Totally content!

I asked him not to smile for this so please don’t call Child Services on me, thanks. (You know who you are.)

I know I probably shouldn’t say this about my own kid, but he reminds me so much of a young Jeffrey Dahmer in this photo, I can’t stand it. But then my friend Brandy called him “Darling Valentine” on Instagram, so let’s just go with that.

OK, he may have been shivering here. But we were only outside for < 10 minutes. I’m not that mean.

Henry was in the basement sanding a jewelry cabinet for me, so he actually had no idea this was going on. I guess what I’m saying is: we were unsupervised and no one got frostbite or cannibalized the other. In my world, we call that success.

Aside from that, this weekend was pretty worthless. Oh well, at least Katy Perry didn’t win a Grammy last night.

Chooch and I were off from our respective school/work places on Monday in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. So we made plans to meet up with Kara, Harland and Baby Theo at Cannon Coffee. Chooch loves Cannon Coffee, for some reason. It might be the tattooed barista who always tries to pressure him into trying some exotic form of hot chocolate, but in the end he always just giggles nervously and says, “No. Just regular.”

Things started out great! Harland and Chooch huddled around a phone while Theo sat quietly in Kara’s lap, allowing Kara and me to have real life conversations.

Considering we were there for two hours, they were pretty well-behaved.

But then the Storm Trooper happened. Harland noticed that there was a drawing of one hanging up behind the counter.

“Chooch, look at the Storm Trooper!” Harland called. So Chooch walked over and together they stood in Storm Trooper reverie.

“You want this?” the barista asked, handing Chooch another sketch of a Storm Trooper she had behind the counter. Chooch accepted it, which irked Harland, and rightfully so, IMO.

He asked Chooch for it and I made him hand it over. It was clear that it meant more to Harland, anyway. Chooch was all, “Ugh fine” and they both went back to their respective iPhone games, abandoning the sketch on the table between me and Kara.

But then right as we were all bundling up to leave, Chooch hovered over the sketch on the table and mumbled, “I want this.”

I reminded him that we gave it to Harland, so Chooch put his head down on the table and sighed heavily.

Harland, aware of what was transpiring, said, “But I want it too” and then laid in a sullen heap on the floor.

“But she gave it to me,” Chooch sighed.

“But only because Harland was the one who saw the other sketch first,” I pointed out.

This volleyed back and forth for a few minutes, this totally mild tug-of-war over some dumb sketch on the back of a Brookline community Christmas announcement. No raised voices. No tears. Just two kids quietly wanting the same thing while Theo silently judged them from Kara’s arms. It was the weirdest “fight” ever.

In the end, I told Chooch he wouldn’t be able to play Minecraft if he didn’t just give the damn drawing to Harland. That brought him back to reality real quick-like, and we all left Cannon Coffee as friends.

***

Later that day, Kara texted me to say that Harland was still carrying the drawing around like it was made of diamonds and gold, and that her husband was going to draw a Storm Trooper for both of them. In the meantime, she scanned the barista’s Storm Trooper and emailed it to Chooch, who was like, “Oh OK. Cool.” Totally blasé, LIKE I KNEW HE WOULD BE! That’s why I was so adamant about him giving it to Harland; I knew if Chooch brought it home, he would lose interest as soon as he logged into Minecraft.

Good god, thanks for the turbulence, Storm Trooper. It’s pretty funny though that in the eight years Kara and I have been friends, this was the biggest “conflict” we’ve ever had!

Today, I’m wearing a Silence the City Clothing t-shirt that says “Steer Your Own Path.” Chooch was eyeballing it and finally said, “I don’t get your shirt.”

“It just means, you shouldn’t always sit around and wait for things to happen,” I explained, which is one of my biggest weaknesses of being A Parent: “Explaining life lessons.”

Chooch looked unsatisfied with this explanation, so I forged on. “You know, like if we just sat around and waited for Daddy to be like ‘OMG guys let’s go do something fun!’, we’d spend our entire lives sitting in the house doing nothing, never going anywhere but school and work, because he would never say anything like that. That’s why I’m always the one finding fun things for us to do.”

Chooch considered this and then said, “Well, Daddy did say something like that once, I think. But it was just about going to the Laundromat.”

Chooch had his first lesson with his punk rock piano teacher this morning and it went really well, actually! We had been trying to find him a teacher for awhile now but no one would respond to us. Then Henry found this girl Cheryl’s ad on Craiglist and she said she’s played in various local punk bands and has a very alternative approach to teaching piano so I knew immediately she was the one.

And she is awesome. Everything I imagined! Plus she’s patient and Chooch seemed very comfortable around her (though he did giggle a lot).

I can’t wait to steal her from Chooch.

She asked him if there were any songs he really wanted to learn to play and he blurted out “Silent Night.” Henry and I looked at each, raising our eyebrows in a “WTF, since when?” manner. Cheryl was just like, “Oh. OK. We can learn that one eventually!”

Anyway, the main focus of today’s inaugural lesson was for her to gauge which style and approach would be best for him, and she said she was surprised at how fast he was picking up the basics (aside from me playing clarinet in middle school, none of us are musically inclined, so Henry and I were just as surprised; I was actually preparing for him to bomb). Apparently, she thinks Chooch has the ability to play music by ear.

I had no clue.

He started fiddling with his keyboard as soon as we came home and then asked, “What is Silent Night, anyway?”

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

*(Bradley Bell plays keyboard in Chiodos, for those who aren’t immersed in the scene.)

Not that I’m surprised, but my friend Maya from SWStitchery has done it again. I broached the idea of possibly making a Christofer Drew doll for Chooch at some point. I knew she’s been swamped with custom orders and studying and life in general, so I didn’t demand any set deadline or anything; I just sent over a few pictures of younger, wolf-hat-era Christofer Drew and left it at that.

I didn’t even know that she had started to work on him, so when she sent me these progress photos last week, I was totally surprised and stoked: LOOK AT THAT HAT! THE HAZEL EYES! THE DOUBLE LIP RING! THE ANCHOR TATTOO (ON BOTH HANDS, EVEN!), THE BRACELETS!

(Photo by Maya)

Maya has totally outdone herself on this one! That hat kills me.

Christofer with Vic and Jonny. (Ju-On was busy haunting Chooch’s room at the time of this photo shoot and besides, she doesn’t want to be in the band.)

I think it’s safe to say Chooch is stoked for life over this one. Thank you for feeding our obsessions, Maya!! I’m constantly floored by your talent!

Alternately titled: Where We Torture Our Kid Under the Guide of “Art.”

I’ll tell ya, we’re met with more and more resistance every year when it comes to picture-taking. I got all exasperated, which is my usual go-to response to adversity, followed quickly by the ever-popular solution of “I QUIT.

” But then right as I was about to pack it up, Chooch started to use an old guard rail as a balance beam, so Henry fulfilled his quota of “one bright idea every five years” by tricking Chooch into having his photo taken while “doing things.

”

Then we dared him to run as fast as he could to another spot and then suggested he sit down amidst the leaves after he hurt his ankle.

Henry encouraged him to hurdle over headstones, which of course resulted in Chooch eventually catching his foot on one and falling, leaving him with a handsome bruise on his leg.

BLAME HENRY.

Then we paid him all the money in our pockets* to take his coat off for approximately 3 minutes so we could get some shots of his sweater, since that day’s outfit was a happy accident. (All three of us blindly picked out one component of the outfit, and somehow it worked.)

*(This amounted to $7. I actually had $4 in my pocket only because it was change from when we went to see Gremlins last week. I usually never have cash. Seriously, don’t ever bother mugging us.)

He looks thrilled, right?

I had a serial killer card to mail this morning so POOR CHOOCH had to GET DRESSED and WALK 1.16 miles to the post office with me, GOD FORBID.

There’s a Dunkin Donuts halfway between the post office and our house, so I placated him with the promise of a donut and hot chocolate. Yes, I’m what’s wrong with America.

After spending unlimited minutes motherfuckering all the cars who refused to yield to pedestrians (YOU KNOW WHO YOU MOTHERFUCKERS ARE), we finally made it within the safe confines of the post office (not the shitty Brookline one where the only requirement of the employees is to have the personality of Republican styrofoam).

The girl in front of us was totally Harajuku to the point where I expected her to be Asian. (I RACIAL PROFILE, OK.) And I don’t mean that as an insult. Just from the back, she looked really Kawaii-girly in a poufy floral skirt, blue ankle socks and super cute teal heels with birds sticking off them. And she was definitely wearing a fuchsia wig with bouncy curls. The woman behind the counter was asking her if she was wearing a costume and the girl was trying to explain that this was just how she dressed, but that she does actually make costumes too.

When the postal clerk left the counter to get something, I asked the girl if her shoes were Irregular Choice. They were, so we started discussing the pros and cons of that shoe brand, at which point Chooch made a loud noise of disgust, groaned, “Girls!” and walked away.

And then, when my new BFF was on her way out of the post office, she noticed my holographic eyeball purse and exclaimed, “Oh! I have that same purse*! Mine is the smaller version though!” Which then queued up a dialogue between me and the postal clerk. And this was Chooch at that moment:

Afterward, we went to Dunkin Donuts and he immediately burnt his tongue on his hot chocolate. Chooch is having a real DAY.

*(If you’re new here, Chooch HATES it when people talk to me about my eyeball purse because oh noes, five whole seconds go by without people paying attention to him.)

I was surprised when I met Never Shout Never. they mean so much to me like this much ——————————————————————————————————– that’s how much they mean to me.

When we met them, I did NOT know what we were going to do. So Jason was there, I told him that I wanted to meet Christofer Drew and then he said “yeah and I want to meet Christina Hendricks.

” When we walked into the room to meet them I was like OMG really you’re making me meet them? OMG. Christofer said nice shirt and I said thanks, actually I was shy. He took my hat off of me and put his hat on me and my hat on him and I felt like OMG now I have his ghost inside my hat and my ghost inside of his hat.

I got my picture with them I still was shy.

Christofer gave me a guitar pick I broke real quick on an accident. They told me to play the tuba and that I would get all the girls haha and then they told me to go to Chicago with them.

My favorite part of the night was when they played my favorite song Lost at Sea. It’s on the album Time Travel. When they played it I sang the whole song.

OMG I finally met them and I probably will never again.

You should listen to Harmony. It’s an album. My favorite song on that album is First Dance! And Trampoline. Actually, Trampoline is mommy’s most favorite.