Henry and I took the day off today and while I’m sure he had grand visions of laying on the couch in his underwear all day, I planned his itinerary for him. Here, Henry is pictured frowning at the Jean Bonnet Tavern in Bedford, PA.
“You know, Henry, one day you’re going to wake up and realize you wasted your life being miserable,” I lectured.
“Yeah,” Chooch chimed in. “And having a girlfriend.”
The “This is Erin’s Special Evening So I’m Going To Wear This Wig Like She Told Me To & Try To Force My Uncomfortable Smirk Into a Weak Smile” Non-Frown.
The “I’ve Been a Motherdicker to Erin All Day, So She’s the One With the Right to Frown” frown.
The “GTFO, I’m Trying To Fix the Car, Stop Embarrassing Me In Front of Hot Naybor Chris & I Know You’re Only Taking Pictures So You & All Your Little Friends Can Laugh At My Bandanna” frown.
The “I Can’t Believe I’m In Line for the Tilt-a-Whirl Oh Well It’s Better Than Listening to Jonny Craig” Frown.
Conneaut Lake Park was the first stop on our agenda today, but we had a little bit of time to kill before it opened at noon so Henry took us on a tour of Small Town USA which culminated with stop at Linesville Spillway. There are so many carp there begging for carb-droppings that the ducks can quite literally walk on them.
It was horrifying and nasty, but I couldn’t stop watching these fish aggressively fighting each other for rolls and crust. It was intense.
The “I USED TO COME HERE ALL THE TIME WITH MY GRANDPAP IN THE 1920s, DON’T RUIN THIS BY BEING AN ASSHOLE” Frown.
***
My birthday weekend getaway almost didn’t happen. I joked a few days ago, albeit with a healthy scoop of bitterness, that with the way our luck has been going this year, our car would probably break down. Well, our car didn’t exactly break down, but Henry finally got off his pretend-mechanic ass and decided to check out the horrible sound the car’s been making FOR LIKE A MONTH. It turned out to be something I don’t understand that could potentially “seize up” if we drove long distance.
The good news: he could fix it himself and it wouldn’t cost much.
The bad news: he wouldn’t be able to fix it in enough time for us to go to Erie that weekend.
He informed me of this last night when I was at work and I proceeded to cry at my desk like the bitchbaby I am. But then Seri was all, “Don’t be stupid, just take one of our cars.” I kept saying no, that this was Henry’s problem to solve, but Seri can be very convincing. If it weren’t for her generosity, I wouldn’t have been able to walk around a creepy, half-abandoned amusement park; visit a Victorian Perambulator Museum; argue with Henry for two hours over where to eat for dinner; or watch a school of fish hungrily flex their gaping maws like a sea of Jersey Shore kookas ready for a post-Karma feeding.
The “Why Are We Watching Justin Bieber Perform on the Teen Choice Awards, No Wait—Why Are We Watching the Teen Choice Awards” Blank Stare, courtesy of Henry and Pete.
My favorite moment was when Ian Somerhalder won a surfboard and I asked, “What did he win for?”
“Not being Katy Perry,” Pete deadpanned.
No wait, my other favorite moment was the pedestal of cupcakes Seri placed before me. That girl knows how to win a bitch’s friendship.
I would probably just whale a bag of Fritos at my guests, but not Seri.
I’ve been trying to explain all night who all the people presenting awards are, but I’m always met with blank stares. What? This is my demographic, you guys. At least I’m drinking wine and not a Shirley Temple.
Now we’re explaining to Seri what snuff films are, OMG my dear friend who spells her curse words.
(Edit: Seri was talking about drivebys and is all bent out of shape because she can’t think of the term for the victim and hates Henry because he’s like “WTF are you talking about?” and shes like “OMG WEREN’T YOU IN THE SERVICE?” so now she’s googling it and exclaimed, “DECIDER! That’s it decider!”
“Um, if he’s the victim, he certainly wasn’t the decider. He was the decision.”)
OMG THE CALL ME MAYBE PERFORMANCE JUST STARTED AND COMPLETE PANDEMONIUM ERUPTED IN PETE AND SERI’S LIVING ROOM.
The “Oh, I Can Already Tell I’m Going to Love This Band, & Yes I’ll Be Speaking in Fluent Sarcasm All Day” frown.
This is a conversation we had when standing in line:
Henry: “Taking Back Sunday is here?”
Me: “Yeah. Duh.”
Henry: I thought just Geoff [Rickley] was?”
Me, annoyed: “He’s in THURSDAY!”
Henry: “Oh. Yeah…”
This update is brought to you by TOMS tan lines and Henry’s desire to sit down “for a minute.” Ciao for now!
The “I Could Be Buying Back Issues of Bronies Weekly & Watching Criminal Minds, But Instead I Have To Buy Fireworks For These Assholes” Frown.
Even Andrea was like, “Yikes, Henry is mean” and stepped away from him.
The “I Just Noticed My Arm Is Dripping Blood From A Wound I Did Not Know I Had & Now My Girlfriend Is Making a Big Commotion About It & Drawing Attention To Us” Frown.
Moments before this, Henry pointed a jaunty man with a long & glorious mullet.
“He was in the bathroom with me and Chooch and I was glad I didn’t let Chooch go in alone.”
Then Henry noticed his MYSTERIOUS wound. There was a long crimson rivulet running down Henry’s forearm. I wanted to take a picture but he had scraped the now-dry blood off too quick. All that was left was a tiny little puncture mark. It was actually not very impressive or heroic, but it was probably worse than any casualty Henry suffered while in the SERVICE, except for maybe when his ego was curb-stomped by a Panamanian hooker’s denial.
Meanwhile, Mullet kept pivoting his head around to stare at us while he retreated.
“It just occurred to me that those two things did not happen through coincidence,” I shouted from the backseat of the car on the way home. (I let Andrea sit up front so she doesn’t get tormented by Chooch.) “That man stabbed you in the bathroom!”
“Yeah, Erin. That’s it exactly. He stabbed me in the forearm with a pencil.”
But then there’s always the zombie attack theory.
Henry got a new nondescript shirt! It’s some ugly shade of orange!
It billows!
The “Bitch, I’m just trying to purchase some iced tea at CoGos, and by the way It’s actually ‘melon,’ not orange” frown.
We’re en route to the Big Butler Fair, so I’m sure there will be 87 more frowns of the day to follow.
The “I Spent All Day Doing Laundry & Cleaning the House, & Now I Would Like To Reward Myself By Enjoying Some Television Programs About Cute Kittens, So Get Your Phone Out of My Face” Frown.
The “I’m Trying To Enjoy This Pizza, It Might Be My Only Father’s Day Treat, Get the Phone Out of My Grill” frown.
The “Henry Just Learned My Plan to Make a Furry Pose With My Jonny Craig Doll” frown.
The “I Just Woke Henry Up To Show Him My Pedometer After I Paced Back & Forth For 90 Minutes” frown.