I have so much wow to bring you guys right now. I’m sitting here with Henry J. and he is going to tell me his HIGHLIGHTS and LOWLIGHTS of our vacation, at which point I will TYPE WHAT HE IS SAYING.

We have nothing better to do. Pretty Little Liars is over for the season.

        Here I am waiting for Erin, Octavia and Chooch to figure out where Forrest Gump’s bench used to be.

HENRY’S HIGHLIGHTS

• the cottage at King’s Creek Plantation
• morning trips for breakfast and coffee for “my babies” (because they weren’t with me)
• meeting Octavia
• (I suggested when Henry got to talk about moss at the Bonaventure Cemetery but he just gave me an annoyed look, so I guess…no.)
• talking about the SERVICE with someone who was actually interested (Octavia)
• watching Erin and Chooch play tennis and realizing that those two can’t do anything together without fighting. And Erin is way too* competitive.
• getting to have grits with every meal.
• the breakfast that Octavia’s husband Dustin made us
  • these were the best grits of the whole trip

*(Henry is mad because I spelled this correctly.)

• attempting to teach Chooch to swim even though in his mind he knows how to already.
• Busch Gardens
  • I didn’t have a favorite ride. I only rode three things and liked all three.
• Watching a couple fight at the rest stop in Virginia while their kids ran amok.
• Seeing a drunk girl at breakfast in Charlotte and watching her get kicked out.
• Finding out that Jonny Craig’s band Slaves broke up.
• buying peach and muscadine cider at a convenience store in Georgia
• Mayberry
• Almost having to go to a show when Erin found out a band she likes was playing in Charlotte but thank god we were on our way home
• Watching Chooch writhe during dinner in Pulaski because of the girls at the table near us who were looking at him and giggling, and then the oldest one telling him he had nice hair.
• WHEN HOT NAYBOR CHRIS CALLED ME WHEN WE WERE IN WILSON, NC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111111111111111111111111111111111111
• GETTING TO LISTEN TO ALL OF ERIN’S AWESOME MUSIC AND TALK ABOUT WARPED TOUR FOR 7 DAYS STRAIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11111111111111111111111

HENRY’S MIDLIGHTS (?)

• the African village in South Carolina
• boiled peanuts. I didn’t really get to try them because I was driving forever.
• Dale Earnhardt museum
• South of the Border – getting to take a selfie in front of a giant gorilla.

HENRY’S LOWLIGHTS (and I’m not talking about the gray in his beard, you guys)

• driving to Virginia for 7 hours with Erin and Chooch.
• then driving 10 hours to Savannah
• the 14 hour drive home because of Erin’s “detours”
• Tortuga’s Island Grill in Thunderbolt, GA —> Erin’s birthday breakdown and Chooch’s “You don’t love me” breakdown. God forbid I should say anything to anybody.
• Looking for the post office in Orangeburg, SC
• Learning that Jonny Craig’s band Slaves did not actually break up.
• Pulaski, VA (thanks, Octavia!)
  • Erin almost died. (I just said, “I didn’t almost die there…?” and Henry snapped, “Yeah, when I almost killed you.”)
• Driving back into Savannah after we had already left because Erin supposedly forgot to buy postcards and a magnet when we were there for 8 hours walking around the day before.
• Mayberry
• Not buying enough peanuts while we were down there
• the overpriced ghost tour in Williamsburg

Here I am being a land shark in Savannah!

Funny backstory guys! 

Just kidding. This isn’t a funny story at all. But it’s going to start out waaaay worse than it ended up being so don’t you go and get all panicky!

A week before vacation, Henry and I came  home from work to find his mom, Judy, in what appeared to be some type of shock on the couch. She didn’t seem very cognizant or coherent, and she was shaking really bad.

We thought she was having a stroke. It was probably the scariest thing I’ve ever witnessed personally. Thank god Henry was there to take action because I was one step away from joining his mom on the couch. I’m so terrible in emergencies!

Chooch was down the street at his friend’s house so while I ran down to get him, Henry called 911 and then fetched Hot Naybor Chris’s wife, Ruth, who is a nurse. She sat with Judy and pretty quickly deduced that it likely was not a stroke. 

The first responders and paramedics said the same thing, but wanted to transport her to one of the city’s hospitals that has a stroke unit, to be safe.

Turns out she had several infections and a fever that was over 104, which was what had sent her into that scary, seemingly catatonic state. Long story short, she had to stay in the hospital for a week but she is home now and well on her way to recovery. 

Scariest thing I’ve ever witnessed though, and I appreciate the one first responder who tried to quell my sobbing by looking around the house and asking, “So, who likes The Cure?” Meanwhile, the othe one was slowly looking all around my house, at the pictures of bloody Easter bunnies and cemeteries on my walls, clowns scattered about, Ouija board container of mints on the skull-covered coffee table, and then at me, and then back at All The Stuff. I was slowly trying to roll up the Devil rug with my foot. I mean, my house isn’t an in-your-face exploration into the design aethestics of a serial killer, but there’s a lot to look at. And then the more you look…the more you might start to wonder….But I don’t think about it that often because this is my normal and usually the people who come into my house are people who know me so they’re not fazed. It’s always interesting to see it through a stranger’s eyes. 

I was telling Glenn and Amber2 about this the next day and for the first time since it all went down, I laughed. “It probably looked like a spell gone wrong!” And oh how we all chuckled in unison, a real Oh Honestly, Erin moment.   

To me, the creepiest thing in my house is that pink-haired boy in the background.   

Anyway, most of the Henry Bombs from that week were shot in the hospital, so now you’ll know why. (Oh, and obviously I wasn’t running around the hospital taking pictures on that first night; these were all when we were visiting, after we knew she was good and on the mend. Good lord, that was scary.)

The “Headless Henry Carries A Purse While I Stuff Melons Down My Shirt” shot. Seriously, my boob looks so big and droopy in this picture. 
  

The “Henry Enjoys the View From The Mercy Hospital Elevator, Considers Jumping” shot. 

The “Another Day, Another Elevator Ride, Another Same-Colored Shirt” shot. 
  

The “Stalking the Hospital Men’s Room, Waiting For Henry to Emerge, Getting Weird Looks In the Hallway” shot. 

The “Just Came Home From Buying Food For The Dependents, Found A Different Shirt To Wear, Is It Plain Enough?” shot. 
  

The “Hot Naybor Chris Is Working On His Car So Henry Suddenly Needs To Mow the Lawn” shot. 

The “Balancing a TV On Your Head Takes Panache And a Stately Moustache (And a Blank T-Shirt)” shot. 

Today we’re en route to Savannah from Williamsburg, and I am ridiculously bored. Henry has essentially quit talking to us altogether. Which is fine because it’s not like we listen to him anyway. Chooch is playing something dumb on his DS and I’m reading Absolute Punk. So unless you want a detailed account of Buddy Nielsen from Senses Fail speaking out against the current state of the scene, or the recently announced tenth anniversary Juturna tour, then I’ve got nothing. 

So please enjoy looking at pictures of idiot Henry at Busch Gardens yesterday. 

Here you can see Henry about to triumphantly walk through his favorite part of the park, where his patriotism and selfless SERVICE stint could be celebrated by all. 
  

Standing in line for the second of the whopping FOUR rides he rode all day. This is actually more than usual, though. (This line was for Verbolten which is my new favorite ride in the whole world. Henry thought it was “fine.”)

Looking for a bench so he could push up his glasses and use his phone to look up Pretty Little Liars theories (“A” is really Xavier Roberts!) and home remedies for hemorrhoids. (Fresh cabbage leaves! I’ve learned A LOT about that leafy veg head this month.) 

He walks far ahead so people won’t think he belongs to us. And also so he can pretend that he doesn’t hear our cries for food, presents, and STRANGER DANGER, and more food. 

My favorite part about lunch at the Festhaus was the fact that Henry didn’t want to eat lunch at the Festhaus. 
  

He got really mad when he sat down at a table far away and then realized Chooch and I hadn’t followed him, so he had to pick up his tray and stomp irritably to where we were sitting. 

Henry wore one of his favorite salmon-colored tshirts yesterday and there were TWO OTHER MEN wearing salmon-colored shirts as well, and Chooch and I kept mistaking them for Henry. Also, a man in front of us in line for the Lochness Monster could have easily passed for Henry as well, if only his hair was more full-bodied and McNicol-ish like Henry’s. He even was wearing plain white New Balance shoes which is Henry’s preferred brand!  

Ok I’m peacing out now because it’s nearly my feeding time and I’m about to punch through the roof of the car. LYLAS!

This past week, I collected some Henry Bombs in Cleveland and on some trail thing in Keystone State Park, wherever that is. I’ve been channeling all of my energy into convincing Henry of all the upcoming out-of-city/state concerts he needs to take me to, so this set of bombs kind of, well, bombs.

The “Henry Pays The Toll On the Way to Cleveland” shot.

The “Oh No Henry Forgot His Hat” shot. Just kidding. He’s calculating all of the money I cost him while massaging his stress headache.

The “Henry Dejectedly Walks To The Vegan Restaurant While Leaving a Trail Of Dignity Like Neutered Breadcrumbs In His Wake” shot.

The “Henry Is In The Basement of Mahall’s, Pissed That the Singer of the First Band Made Everyone Stand Up, And Trying To Look Like a Bouncer” shot.

The “Henry Clenches His Hand Into a Fist Of Fury As He Remembers How Gas Was Cheap Like Cabbage When He Was In THE SERVICE” shot.

The “Henry Eats Trail Mix On The Trail, Obviously” shot.

The “Henry Drove Us 90 Minutes Away To Walk In The Woods And We Bitched About Bugs The Whole  Time And Now He’s Mad(der Than Usual)” shot.

The “Professional Driver Henry Shuttles Erin To Work In His Trusty Juice Carriage” shot.

Hope you’re having a good week and not like, getting kicked off of Warped Tour for being a disgusting piece of shit, or whatever.

The “‘Getting Stuck Carrying Everyone’s Shit at Warped Tour, What Fucking Band Is This Anyway? Don’t Answer That, I Don’t Care'” shot.

(Shout out to that Zao shirt back there!)

The “Waiting For Never Shout Never To Start and Hoping Chooch Wants To Leave After That Because Let’s Go Son, I’m Ready; We’ll Come Back Later And Pick Up Your Mother” shot.

The “Henry Tries To Blend In After Losing His Kids During The Band Our Last Night, This Is Worse Than The Time He Was In The Service And Had To Fight In a Real Life War HaHa J/K That Was Just a Bad Dream” shot.

The “OMG Henry Has His Arm In The Air For Pierce The Veil….

Oh Wait, He’s Just Trying To Tame His Bushy Brows” shot.

The “Mmmm. Family Granola Bar Time At Warped Tour, Reminds Him of the Care Packages His Mom Sent Him When He Was In THE SERVICE” shot.

The “Where’s Henry?” shot.

The “Pretending I Dropped Something On the Floor At King’s So I Could Get a Crotch Shot” guest shot by Chooch.

The “‘Ugh, I Need To Stop Fingering Cabbage Patch Kids'” shot.

The “Waiting For the Furry Parade To Start, Wondering What Kind of Furry He Would Be If He Had the Courage, Probably a Ted Nugent Bear” shot.

Wow, is it time for Henry Bombs already? Are you guys tired of these yet? HENRY IS! I didn’t get very many bombs this weekend because most of Friday was spent hating each other (we were stuck in traffic for two hours en route to a stupid flea market and hated each other so bad that the option of getting married just so we could go through a nasty divorce and ruthless custody battle may have been put on the table) and then I just didn’t care much after that.

But anyway.

The “Henry Waits Four Seasons To Start Watching Teen Wolf and Then Asks ‘Who’s that?‘ and ‘Why is this happening?‘ and ‘Is she a werewolf, too?*‘ While Eating a Hot Dog Wrapped In Bread**” shot.

*No, she’s a coyote, asshole! Try to keep up!

**No, it wasn’t Hot Naybor Chris’s  charity bread. :(

The “We Just Spent An Entire Afternoon Hating Each Other And Now Henry Is Considering Thelma&Louise’ing This Car Off a Cliff, Chooch Put Your Seat Belt On” shot.

The “Getting Ready To Eat Dinner In Silence After a Shitty Day Together, Check His Pockets For Hemlock” shot.

The “Contemplating Single Life, Lamenting That He Forgot To Order Cole Slaw” shot.

The “Casual Stroll Through The Pit Stop Parking Lot, YOU’RE LUCKY I FED YOU TWO AFTER THE SHIT YOU PULLED TODAY!!!” shot. 

The “When You’re Admiring A Beautiful Tree Without Judging Its Crookedness & Then You Realize MICHAEL MYERS Is Standing Behind It, Oh Wait, Bro, That’s Just Henry Being a Goddamn Creep” shot. 

The “Happy Independence Day From Mr. Made In America,  Star Spangled Henry!” Shot. 

The “Sweeping Up the Red, White & Blue Confetti That Fell Out Of His Ass, God Bless America” shot.  

The “Forgot He Was SO OVER US & Took Us To See Jurassic World” shot.  

(At first I thought, “Ew what’s wrong with my face in this picture?” And then I realized, “Oh my face. My face is what’s wrong with my face.” Lol.)

I fell off my Henry Bomb game this time around because I spent most of the weekend pouting. (No actual reason other than I’m Erin Rachelle Kelly.)

The “Falling Asleep While Erin Watches Warped Tour Pit Vlogs On YouTube, This Is Too Exciting For a Friday Night” shot.

The “Forced Hand-Hold On The Way To The Mall, If Only Tiffany Was Performing There To Complete This Picture Of Puppy Love” shot.

The “Whoa, TWO Desserts? Livin’ Large!” shot.

The “Paying For All Of His Desserts” shot.

The “Making A Big Deal Out Of the New Cross-Walk Box & Reminiscing About The Days When Pedestrians Were Less Coddled & Able To Cross A Street Without A Robotic, Disembodied Voice Telling Them When” shot.

The “He’s Been Watching the Wen Segment On QVC For Too Long, Caught Feelings For Chaz Dean” shot.

Henry + Chaz.

The “Pretending To Be Too Cool To Watch Scream With His Family While Still Occasionally Looking Up From His Phone Because He Can’t Remember If There’s Any Nudity In This Classic Film” shot.

The “We Put On The Exorcist And Then Found Henry Pouting In Bed Because He’s ‘Not Interested In Watching That'” shot. Side note: One of the first things I learned about Henry is that he is terrified of any horror movie with religious themes and just absolutely refuses to watch them, especially any of the ones involving exorcisms, which clearly means that he was possessed when he was in the SERVICE and had to be exorcised by a Panamanian priest.

Our Father’s Day tradition is usually to hit up our local amusement park, Kennywood. I just wasn’t feeling it this year  though, and since I have a knack for making every day about me, even Father’s Day, I suggested that we take a little road trip to Erie and visit Waldameer because I was having some kind of Ravine Flyer II cravings. I mean, it makes sense to me: let’s make the man who hates amusement take us to a park full of it.

  
Of course Henry said yes because I rule, but I’m sure he was wishing that I could just have normal cravings, like for pickles or sex, or pickle sex. We already got to do shit that he wanted to do on his birthday a few weeks ago (i.e. nothing), so I didn’t feel too bad about hijacking his holiday.

LOL.

It takes about the same amount of time (two hours-ish) to get to Waldameer as it does Delgrosso’s, but it’s a different direction and for some reason, it just seems like the drive goes so much faster. Plus, there’s more to ride there and Henry can still pay zero dollars to loaf around on every bench he comes across, plus it has THE WACKY SHACK. If only they had the Wacky WORM as well, then we’d never have to go to Delgrosso’s again!

In all honesty (because I usually lie lie lie to you all the other times?), I wasn’t going to write about this recent trip to Waldameer. I’m a little burnt out and really, nothing note-worthy happened this time around.

  
One of the things my mom did right when I was a kid was always having her camera with her, which is how my memories of our trips to the Wildwood boardwalk have held up. I love that there’s a picture of me and my Pappap on the Keystone Kops ride, and my step-dad and me on the Wildmouse, and the people stuck on the Sea Serpent coaster. My mom was good about that shit, and that’s one of the good qualities I definitely picked up from her—I take pictures of everrrrrryyyyything. I’m sure it’s annoying to Henry and Chooch and they’re like, “No one cares about your picture of the Ravine Flyer, Erin” but someday, when it’s not there anymore, and Chooch is visiting me in the shoddy, state-funded home he’s shipped me off to, he’s going to ask, “Hey Burden, what was that coaster we used to like at that one park that took forever to get to and I would cry about it in the car?” and then I’ll say some kind of technology spell and the Internet will materialize in front of us like a mirage and we can spend quality-time looking through pictures together on my blog.

So, maybe nothing note-worthy happened, but 40 years from now, Chooch might think differently about that.

I want my future house to look like the Wacky Shack.

We were the first ones to ride the Wacky Shack that day! The park was pretty sparsely populated all day, so we mostly just walked right on all of the rides without having to wait anyway, but Chooch still thought this was gloat-worthy.

The second time we rode the Wacky Shack, we were in line behind a family: a mom, her son who was probably 12, her daughter who was maybe 14, and the grandma. Apparently, there was some drama with one of the park performers and the grandson, some big misunderstanding, but the park performer blew it out of proportion and threatened to have this kid reported and kicked out of the park. I couldn’t figure out what had happened, but he had seemingly on accident, done something to really jack her off during her performance. This kid didn’t seem too threatening to me, just your typical white suburban boy in a Nike shirt and cargo shorts. He looked really upset while the mom was filling in the grandma, and if Chooch could just ever stop talking for more than 2 seconds at a time, I might have been able to come home with a much better story for you, Blog!

  
We saw the family later on, this time the dad was with them too. Now there was some drama with between the boy and his sister. He had evidently walked away from her while she was talking to him, and now the dad was trying to act as a mediator while he was in line for the go-carts with the son who now all of a sudden didn’t seem so innocent.  The daughter was on the other side of the line and the dad was like, “Why don’t you just calm down and ride this with us?” and she was like, “I DON’T WANT TO RIDE THAT!” in a “how dare you minimize my feelings!” tone and stormed off to sit on a bench with Grandma. We walked past them later and she was still sitting on the bench, head down, and scowling.

It was like looking at myself.

  
After this latest episode, now I’m not sure I believe that Boy didn’t do something unlawful to Park Performer. He seems like a real motherfucker, walking away from his sister like that.

Chooch made me ride the Steel Dragon twice in a row: once sitting front-facing, and once rear-facing. That shit fucked me up and I opted to sit down on a bench and put myself in Henry’s shoes while Chooch rode a third time by himself.

I keep seeing some lame article going around about people spending too much time taking pictures of their kids with their kids instead of “actually living in the moment” and while I can see where this would be concerning in extreme cases, I have to roll my eyes at this because how am I not “living in the moment” by taking a picture? To me, I’m living in the moment and also capturing a photographical memory of it because I know it’s going to be something that I will look back on some day when I’m sad, and it’ll make me smile. And that’s what I do on days that I’m sad, for real! I re-read trips to Kennywood and Warped Tour and then I’m OK again.      Meanwhile, Chooch was like, “People keep staring at me…?” He forgot he had purple hair.   

On the Comet, Chooch and I sat behind this guy, Michael, who was in his late teens/early 20s and seemed to possibly be autistic. He was LOVING LIFE, you guys, and I have to say, his enthusiasm was infectious. We wound up behind him right after this, in line for the Ravine Flyer II. Michael ran out of line because he wanted to hug some country music station mascot (I never could figure out what it was supposed to be); when Michael came back, he started to walk to the back of the line, but Chooch and I stopped him and let him get back in front of us because we were obsessed with him.

“I like this guy,” Chooch whispered, jutting an elbow in Michael’s general vicinity.

This coaster is the shit, you guys. Here are some words that go through my head when I’m riding it:

• This was a mistake.
• oh god.
• OMGDIDWEJUSTJUMPTHETRACK?!
• holy fuuuuuck!
• This is the train to Hades!!!
• MY MOTHERFUCKING BACK!!!!
• SUCCURRE MIHI, DEUS

Oh my god, it’s a wild ride. Chooch and I laugh like hyenas on it and for those 2 minutes, we are best friends and not bickering mother and son.

The second time we rode it, I was pissed because some stupid group got to jump the line because they were filming it for Periscope, and they were sooooo smug about it. Their leader was some arrogant ginger and the rest of us people in line scowled as he encouraged his group to scream and act more stoked than they actually were. Turns out it was some lame Drumstick gimmick:

Whatever you say, Drumstick.

I spent a good portion of the day shooting Henry in the face with my forced-adorable expressions in order to soften him up because Chooch and I desperately wanted him to ride the Ravine Flyer II with us! Even if you don’t buy a ride-all-day pass, you can put money on a Wally Card in order to ride things.  Waldameer is a cash-free park, so you have put money on one of those cards in order to buy food and play games, anyway, so…..he had no good excuse!

For some reason, Chooch always thinks this is a sign for a ride.  

It pains me to admit this, but my motion-sickness tolerance is even more unpredictable than ever this year. Normally, I’m good on  the Tilt-a-Whirl, but at Delgrosso’s last month, I almost puked on it. So I smartly avoided the Tilt-a-Whirl at Waldameer. However, I did go on the Swings almost as soon as we arrived, because it was one of the few rides that was already running. I admittedly haven’t been on the Swings in any park in the last several years because I was starting to lose enjoyment for it. But I decided to give it a shot and was pleasantly surprised! I didn’t get sick at all, and I was even able to enjoy the beautiful view of Lake Erie.

So I stupidly allowed myself to believe that I was cured of spinny-ride syndrome, and later rode the Spider with Chooch, upon which the color immediately drained from my face and I limply flopped around in the seat like a dying flounder. The ride operator must have noticed that he had a potential puker on his  hands, because even though we were the last ones to board, we were the first ones off. And the ride seemed curiously short, too. Henry was waiting for us on a bench, and just shook his head smugly when he saw me shuffling toward my death bed. I spent the next 15 minutes with a cold bottle of water pressed against my neck, sitting as still as I could on the bench and begging my eyeballs to stop darting around in their sockets. Henry and Chooch went off to play games and when I was finally able to rejoin them, I found myself spending an unusually large amount of time admiring the (safe, still, unmoving) landscape. Statues! Flowerbeds! Topiaries! Things I never gave a shit about before.

Over by the go-carts, Henry overheard a conversation between a white trash mom, her son, and his girlfriend. I guess the son was telling his girlfriend that all of the little kids in line with them were his siblings and he said, “Can you believe all those kids dropped out of my mom’s hole?” and then the mom bragged about not even having any stretch marks and lifted her shirt all of the way up to prove it.

Happy Father’s Day, Henry!  

Henry’s favorite part of the day: walking alone.

By the end of the day, we wore Henry down and got him to ride the Ravine Flyer II with us! (Oh, and if you’re wondering what happened to the Ravine Flyer I, apparently some dude died on it a long time ago and it was torn down and II was built in its place. Good to know!)

One of the young ride attendants was super enthusiastic and made us all give him a high-five on the way off the ride, and HENRY ACTUALLY DID IT! Dare I say, Henry might have actually had a little fun that day. I mean, he got to eat a soft pretzel; warm, candied almonds; a snickerdoodle (his favorite cookie!); and he got to waste more of Chooch’s college fund on games. Sounds like a pretty fulfilling Father’s Day, if you ask me.

[PS: Chooch wants me to tell you that he found out the next day via Instagram that his girlfriend Cassie was at KENNYWOOD on Father’s Day. “THE ONE TIME WE DONT GO!” he wailed.]

This past weekend, you might remember, was Father’s Day. So here are some fatherly Henry bombs for your viewing pleasure(ish).

The “Riding the Shuttle to the Lavender Festival, What Is My Life” shot.

The “‘I Turn My Back For One Second To Treat Myself To Lavender Refreshments And You Fuckers Are Off  Cutting Fresh Lavender In a Muddy Field And I Can’t Believe Some Woman Gave You Assholes Sharp Scissors, How Much Is This Going to Cost Me Anyway??'”

The “Doo-Do-Do-Dooooo Behold the King of the Lavender Festival” shot.

The “‘Does This Necklace Make Me Look Pretty?'” shot.

The “‘The Lavender Festival’s Portapotty Is Surprisngly Fancy'” shot, followed up with the “‘Cleanliness Makes Me Sad'” shot.

The “Father’s Day, Schmather’s Day—Bitch, Get Us Food” shot.

The “It’s Father’s Day, Treat Yo’self To Pizza and a Soft Pretzel, Henry” shot.

The “Being Father of the Year By Throwing Away Our Trash To Prevent Us From Injuring Ourselves On/Falling Into the Garbage Can” shot.

The “‘Sure, I Promise I Won’t Eat Your Banana Split Dip n’ Dots While You Ride the Spider, Chooch'” corrupt father shot.

The “Wondering What It’s Like To Be the Kind of Father That Gets To Do What He Wants On Father’s Day” shot.

The “Using Henry As a Pillow While He Thinks About All Of the Things* He’d Rather Do On Father’s Day But Instead Had To Drive 2 Hours To Go To An Amusement Park Where He Won’t Ride Anything” shot.

*(Sit at home in his underwear, watching CSI; eating beef jerky under a tree while proficiently identifying overhead aircraft;  baking things with lavender; porch-hangs and pepperoni rolls with Hot Naybor Chris.)

The “He’s Only Smiling Because He’s Thinking of Ordering the Father’s Day Ribeye Special” shot. (SPOILER ALERT: He just got a burger.)

The “PORCH HANGS WITH #HNC AFTER ALL, AND HE BROUGHT OVER PEPPERONI ROLLS!? BEST FATHER’S DAY EVER!” shot.

Henry has been  in a terrible mood all weekend which is hard to believe considering he spends so much time hanging out with Chooch and me. That just made procuring Henry Bombs even more fun! 

 
The “Dropping Off The Kids At the Sold Out Sleeping With Sirens Show, Speeding Off Into the Sunset For a Night Of Peaceful Grocery Shopping” shot. It was the happiest he’s ever been. If he could have gotten away with grocery shopping in his underwear, he probably would have suffered a hernia of happiness. 

(Forever cutting off the top of my head because I’m a selfie dunce.)

The “Professional Driver Henry Doesn’t Need The Rear Camera Thing To Back Out Of a Parking Lot” shot. “I WILL USE THE MIRRORS AS THEY WERE INTENDED!”

  
The “Henry Will Go Into Any Convenience Store, Even Those Of Ill Repute, In Order To Score Beverage” shot. #beveragerenegade

The “DONT TOUCH MY GLASSES!” shot. 

The “Using His Belly As a Plate” shot. 

The “Weekend’s Only Just Begun & Henry Already Hates Everything Even Though ‘Broken Wings’ is playing at Valliant Diner” shot.   

The “Dutifully Washing Dishes So Chooch & I Will Have More To Dirty” shot.    

The “Channeling His Mental Colorwheel In Order To Assemble the Most Aethestically-Pleasing Serial Killer Greeting Card But Always Double-Checking With Me First” shot. 

OK that’s all. I have to go finish watching this thing about Ted Bundy because it’s my life and I do what I want.  

It’s Henry’s 50th birthday! So here are 50 things that Chooch and I love about that big old mustachioed dumdum. (Chooch wrote the title of this, btw.)

Chooch’s 25:

1. He bitches when I  break my headphones: He says I cant get another pair, even though he buys me more.
2. He buys me stuff: He is such a prince.
3. He does stuff with me: He’s super nice.
4. He does stuff for mommy: He is a prince.
5. He loves us: He doesn’t love anyone else but us Oh yes, almost forgot he loves all his family members.
6. He buys us food: So we don’t starve to death.
7. He’s easy to make fun of: Like the times we go on his Instagram.
8. He cares about our health: When we are sick or hurt he rushes home from work or just gives me medicine.
9. He never leaves us: Yeah, he might get a little annoyed at us but he doesn’t leave us.
10. He’s never scared: We always hide from him and try to scare him, but he’s never scared.
11. He is smart: He knows a lot about nature at the cemetery.
12. He is strong: He was in the Service so of course he is a strong independent man.
13. He is practically a hipster: Don’t ask, of course you should know. (Hint: His Beard)
14. He takes us to concerts: Even though he effing hates it.
15. He yells at us: Its funny when he said SHUT THE DOOR!
16. He takes us to Ice Cream shops: Even though he has to get his pants on when he’s comfortable on the couch.
17. He teaches me stuff: Such as how to ride a bike, and how to swim.
18. He sometimes is too scared to go in haunted houses: He usually protects us.
19. He is too scared to go on rides in amusement parks: He might hate amusement parks.
20. He protects us from almost dying: He always protects us from scary drunk guy who walks on our street.
21. He gives directions: To very hard things me and mommy are bad at.
22. He fixes stuff: When mommy or me break something he usually fixes it.
23. He’s not drunk: He doesn’t drink TOO much beer a day.
24. He cleans stuff: When he breaks a glass cup or I puke on the floor he cleans it.
25. His Frowns: He’s famous for his frowns.

Erin’s 25:

1. He irons my clothes for me so that I don’t cry because I melted another favorite shirt or the entire house.
2. He procures fruit for me!
3. He’s not a poser: he doesn’t try to dress “cool” when he goes to concerts.
4. He has an extensive collection of Faygo uniforms. (Sometimes this is even what he wears to concerts because what does he care.)
5. He’s not afraid of emasculating himself by drinking SHANDY every now and again even though it’s not REAL BEER.
6. He takes any DIY idea I throw at him and does it better. (LIKE MY GET STOKED SIGN!)
7. He goes along with all of my photoshoot ideas, even if it means wearing makeup or a tutu.
8. He makes me lavender-flavored food & makes really great iced coffee for me even though he is NOT a coffee-drinker.
9. He supports my serial killer greeting card side business.
10. He pretty much lets me do whatever I want as long as it doesn’t involve drugs or other guys’ weeners.
11. He is super good at cooking with seitan and tofu even though he enjoys feasting on animals.
12. He used to like fishing but then we started dating and I was like *PETA!* *TEARS!* *MURDERER!* *BAD MAN!* so now he doesn’t go fishing anymore.
13. He LOVES when people need directions because he’s a professional driver and knows all the best routes around town.
14. He always has time to help his mom.
15. He always has my back, like when the Catholic moms at Chooch’s old school ganged up on me. (“Well, if they don’t want you to write about them being assholes, then they shouldn’t act like assholes!”)
16. Sometimes, in the dark, he looks like Bo Brady!
17. He got my initial tattooed on his finger because I told him to.
18. He’s OK with the world revolving around me.
19. He taught me to like vegetables because he felt that, as a vegetarian, I should be eating more than just pizza and grilled cheese.
20. He probably knows about more bands than your dad, whether he wants to or not.
21. He’s really good at cutting bangs. (Should I get bangs again?)
22. He said hi to Jonny Craig one time, lol.
23. He is so good at crafts and sewing and basic domestic skills, that you would think his mom was a Home Ec teacher back in the day.
24. He LOVES when people ask him about the Ted Nugent show in the 1980s.
25. HE WAS IN THE SERVICE. (I don’t care if Chooch already said it. This is an important thing.)

Now I kind of wish I hadn’t shared this with Chooch because I could have easily gone on for another 25, ugh! Like how he entertains my tradition of having Xmas cemetery picnics, takes me all over for concerts even though he typically hates the bands, and he eats funnel cake off the ground because by golly he PAID for it!

OK, so today’s Hero Henry post has a plethora of examples of heroism, from warning other vehicles of a crash on a highway to cutting my food, to driving em 6 hours to see Jonny Craig and then comforting me later when I decide that I HATE JONNY CRAIG and suffer a subsequent panic attack. He really does it all, ladies and gentlemen.

It’s 10:32am and we just dropped Chooch off at his Aunt Kelly’s and are officially en route to Allentown for the Hands Like Houses/Slaves show. Except that I threw about 18 fits this morning because I didn’t have anything to wear so then Henry was trying to pick things out for me and by that I mean he was trying to make me wear things that make me feel fat because he’s a motherfucker!! Who does that?! And then he was like here wear this purple shirt, you wear this purple shirt a lot. NO I DON’T! But whatever, I put it on. I’m live blogging this because probably we’re going to fight again soon and I’ll have no one to talk to. Just you, Blog.

10:35: SHEETZ. Henry is finally going to feed me.

10:46: Sheetz is the worst on Memorial Day weekend, UGH!! It was so crowded and I panicked because I’m wearing a fatsuit that Henry picked out for me and I just wanted to be done in there so I grabbed a PB&J from the cooler even though that’s not what I wanted and I’m mad!! I hope Henry chokes on his Slim Jims. Motherfucker.

Before we dropped Chooch off, we drove past a church and Chooch decided to make up a prayer that started with “For the love of kittens in London and Taiwan.”

11:10am: After great deliberation (with himself), Henry has decided to just go ahead and use the EZ Pass that comes with the rental car. Wow. What a monumental occasion. I’m so glad it happened on a day I decided to live blog. LIVE IT UP, HENHEN.

11:17am: Just passed a truck crashed into the barrier on the opposite side of the road so Henry was all, “I HAVE TO WARN ONCOMING TRAFFIC!” so he started flashing his lights and then he saw an eighteen wheeler and said, “OH I WILL DEFINITELY HAVE TO WARN THIS TRUCK! HE WILL NEED TIME TO SLOW DOWN!” He’s so proud of himself. Get this motherfucker a badge.

OH, HE WENT FOR IT:

12:19pm: Stopped to pee a few minutes ago and Henry tried to hold my hand (when we were walking into the rest area, not while I was peeing). Then I had to go and accidentally look at myself in the bathroom mirrors and just ugh, thanks for ruining my life Henry!! Came back out after some ginger bitch kept being in my way and Henry had a bag of Auntie Anne’s pretzel bites as if I’m not already engorged enough! UGH!!

12:21pm: OK I feel a little better but I need more coffee ASAP. And Henry keeps pointing at dumb things out the window. GO FUCK YOURSELF AND YOUR STUPID SCENERY!!! Maybe I’m not actually feeling any better, n/m.

12:38pm: Just screamed at Henry to not hit the hawk flying up ahead of us and he yelled, “It’s flying 15 feet above us! I’d have to make the car jump to hit it!” UGH STFU HENRY GO CONFUSE A DICK FOR AN AUNTIE ANNE’S PRETZEL BITE WHY DON’T YOU!!!

12:44pm: According to Henry, I’m “lucky” to have him because “any other guy” would have left me at home after I threw my “tantrum.” OH OK.

1:19pm:

Fun fact! I had to buy this album three times because I kept playing it to the point of no return. Also, we stopped several minutes ago so I could get an iced macchiato at Starbucks but Henry loudly said, “I’m going to a real store to get a drink” and then walked defiantly across the rest stop to the A-Plus convenience store. You sure showed all of us coffee drinkers, Henry.

1:52pm: UGHHHHHH!!!!

2:10pm: We’re at this diner in Carlisle, PA. They only like me here, not Henry.

2:14pm: HENRY JUST SCRATCHED HIS ‘STACHE:

2:34pm: Henry had to reorganize my veggie burger and then cut it for me because feeding myself is hard. :( I had ketchup everywhere and I was so scared.

3:40pm: How are we not there yet, ugh. I only have so many things to say to Henry, and it’s mostly “shut up” in a variety of tones and volumes.

4:04pm: Oh look there’s our hotel but Dum-Dum Henry can’t figure out how to get there. Also, Allentown is a shit hole. (Actually, I haven’t seen any of it but I’m really good at prejudging.)

4:24pm: At the Ramada Inn. I asked Henry for a quote and he mumbled, “glad to be here. Stoked” but for some reason I think he’s being sarcastic.

4:38: Aaaaaaand, panic attack.

5:00: Going to die now. BBL as a ghost.

5:53pm: After talking me down from a cliff, we’re inside the Croc Rock which is a total dump & full of disgusting women-hating bros and underaged girls thirsty for Jonny Craig. Also, the ceiling is leaking and it smells like piss. Fuck you, Allentown. At least Hands Like Houses are here.

We just saw the guy from Hands Like Houses who looks like a young Tim Curry to me, ughhhh. Even Henry just calls him “Tim Curry” now. “Look here comes Tim Curry,” Henry said the first time we got here right before I cried, “I CAN’T DO THIS LETS JUST GO WAHHH” so we sat in the car and he patted my knee until I was OK. But you guys knew I had issues.

6:25pm: Girl next to me just said, “Is it just me or does it smell like cat piss in here?” And I’m like YES but then WAIT WHAT IF IT’S ME?

6:45pm: Alive Like Me asked who’s excited for Slaves and I did not cheer. Because fuck you JC no I love you NO I HATE YOU! AHHHHHHGGGHHH. Someone give me a mallet.

6:52pm: I’m always waiting for bands to say PUT YOUR MEAT CLEAVERS IN THE AIR, MOTHERFUCKERS! because I’m READY. But they never do. It’s always just “hands” :(

7:33pm: King Shit must be about ready to take the stage because every thirsty chick in this room just spontaneously released pheromone. I just want to puke though.

8:02pm: I HATE YOU I LOVE YOU I HATE YOU I LOVE YOU UGHHHH.

8:33pm: Shucks y’all that was a pretty big mistake.

9:35pm: I’m glad that was an early show because I’m starving and want alcohol (no bar at that venue, WTFFFF??). Totally stressed out and Henry is driving in circles looking for a secret bar that has apricot coriander beer. When we left, we walked past a pizza place where King Shit was eating with his rebound girl, ugh it made me sick. I just can’t with him anymore.

9:45pm: Professional Driver HenHen found the Allentown Brew Works but lied about the apricot beer. At least the hockey game is on.

10:03pm: Henry doesn’t like champagne.

10:30pm: I hate our waitress so much and Henry is like in love with her. And no that’s not even why I hate her. I just had a martini because this asshole place didn’t have that stupid apricot beer and that’s all I wanted I hate my life today was SO DUMB. FUCK YOU.

10:34pm: so I guess me (Henry) has to post . As of now I have nothing to say, except its been a helluva day.

11:02pm: Me: “I’m taking down all of my Jonny Craig pictures in my office on Tuesday.” Henry: “OK.”

Oh boy, I wanted to share an example of Henry saving Chooch and me from perishing but there were so many to choose from! But I think the best is the time during the fall of 2011 when Henry heroically broke into our house after he locked us out. Technically, Chooch did all the hard work. But…it’s Henry’s birthday, not Chooch’s. I think I’ve shared this post on Facebook approx. 87 times since then but TOO BAD. It’s one of my favorites! 

Runners-up: The time Henry stopped me from acquiring a Vicodin addiction / Another time we were locked out / Henry keeps the grass cut so Chooch & don’t get lost in it / Redbox Assistance.

Goddammit, all I wanted to do was go for a nice, leisurely family stroll around our crappy town, but dum-dum Henry left the keys in the house and started flipping out about how it was my fault because I rushed him out of the house.

I was like, “Why can’t we just go for a walk and worry about this later?” which apparently was not a Great Idea based on the look of utter incredulity Henry flashed at me.

Chooch and I carried on like cackling assholes while Henry tore apart the garage for suitable items to MacGyver a battering ram. I mean, I guess if he hot-glued together all of his old porn VHS tapes from the SERVICE, he might have something to go on.

He ignored my suggestions of calling the landlord or heaving a cinder block through the window and instead considered using a can of gasoline to burn down the front door.

I’m surprised he didn’t go next door to ask Hot Naybor Chris for a breaking and entering consultation, considering those two once helped the gas man break into our neighbor’s house in order to shut off his gas before our house exploded.

Yeah, this has promise.

“What? I coulda done it. If only I had remembered to eat my individually-wrapped prunes today.”

“NOW I HAVE HEDGECLIPPERS! THESE WILL HELP! I WILL MANICURE THE WEEDS INTO SILHOUETTES OF MY REPUBLICAN HEROES WHILE STARING LONGINGLY INTO OUR FRONT WINDOW.”

These are some of the things Henry said while Chooch and I buzzed around him like flies on a bear:

• THAT’S ENOUGH!
• YOU’RE A LOT OF FUCKING HELP.
• GO SOMEWHERE AND PLAY!
• THIS IS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT. I DIDN’T EVEN WANT TO GO FOR A WALK!
• FML FML FML FML FML
• YEAH, THIS IS REAL FUCKING FUNNY.
• AND I JUST KNOW I’M MISSING “SHE’S CRAFTY.” MOTHER!
• YOU ASSHOLES CAN JUST STAY OUT HERE! I’LL FUCKING WALK TO WORK. AT LEAST I HAVE THOSE KEYS.

Oh God, Chooch. DON’T POKE THE BEAR!

…or KICK the bear. Henry almost gave Chooch “orphan” status after this.

Meanwhile, I found this fucker in the garage. WTF kind of creepshow is this!? I wish I had had it for my Murder Desk at work.

I was trying to chronicle this episode from all angles, which did not please the man one bit. He made like he was going to grab my phone off me and beat me with it, enlightening me on what it must be like to work for TMZ.

After fifteen minutes, Henry succeeded in prying open the window with a pair of pliers. Now you know how to break into my house and steal our cats. Seriously, it’s all we’ve got in there. Cats galore.

Just don’t forget to bring a small child to catapult through the window. (I mean, at least he’s going IN a window and not falling OUT of a window, right?)

You know that fucker is going to go to school tomorrow and tell his teacher about how his burglar parents made him shimmy up the side of a skyscraper.

Moments later, the house keys came whaling through the window straight at Henry’s face. Chooch rules.

“ENOUGH ALREADY.”

Reassembling the window.

And he did it all so he could go on a walk he did not want to go on in the first place. In this picture, I think he’s texting his boss: OMG I IS A HEROE. I NEED DAY OFF.

Henry turns 50 in three days! How exciting(ly horrifying). In honor of his big numerical accomplishment, I am going to reshare some of the times Henry got to be A HERO. Maybe I can pump his mom and sister for some untold tales, as well! First up, please enjoy the time when Henry got to call 911 twice on his birthday last year!

It was a relatively low-key Saturday night here at the Oh Honestly Household. Chooch had already gone up to bed (which means he went upstairs to watch YouTube videos on his phone for another 2 hours) and Henry and I were watching the Stanley Cup finals (GO KINGS!). Around 11:00PM, there was a hideous crash/boom/squeal right outside of our house.

Right away, we knew it was a car accident.

The street we live on is a pretty busy one and a lot of the houses here don’t have driveways (luckily, ours does). When I moved here back in 1999, one of the first things my then-neighbor said to me was, “Never park your car in front of the house.” Shit, was she ever right. I learned that this was especially sound advice to observe on weekends. There are a ton of drunks that drive on this street. I have seen so many accidents from my living room window, it’s insane. Recently, someone hit a parked car down the street from us so hard that they pushed it all the way into our front yard. I always tell my friends to park across the street in the church parking lot, because you just never know. I mean, we had the mirror ripped off of our car two days after we bought it because we stupidly left the car parked on the street for “just a second.”

Anyway, back to Saturday night. We heard that sickening crunch of car-against-car and Henry flew out the front door, forgetting that he was in his underwear, to see what had happened. Then other neighbors (i.e. The Hot Naybor Chris Family) began to emerge from their houses as well, so Henry ran back inside to put on his pants, but don’t worry, he was back out in time to take total control of the situation.

We quickly deduced that a car had been speeding down the street and plowed into a parked Lexus (sucks to be that car owner) next door and then tried to keep driving even though the entire wheel and tire of his car had broken. So he made it an additional two houses up the street before putting on his flashers and getting out of the car. He was drunkenly staggering around his car, running his hands through his hair, in total panic-mode.

Meanwhile, Tourette’s happened to be moseying along the sidewalk, coming back from wherever it is that people like him go to (poker night with Purple Pants in a pizza parlor basement?), and he totally paused to become a spectator! I was so excited, you have no idea!!! But oddly, of all the times where it would be appropriate for him to shake his fist and cry, “You motherfucker!” he blurted out no such obscenities and instead stood calmly at the end of our sidewalk, contributing to the community powwow.

Just then, the Perp began drunkenly pacing up and down the sidewalk and at one point, it looked like he was going to run before turning around, crouching on the sidewalk for a moment, and then getting back into his car.

“He’s going to run,” I observed, but one of the neighbor girls said, “He ain’t going nowhere with his wheel broken off!”

“No,” I argued. “He’s going to literally run. I can tell.”

So then Henry got to be a HERO and call the POLICE, who are basically his favorite people in the whole entire world second to those Air Force fellas and broads. And just as Henry was hanging up with the 911 dispatch person, the perp got out of his car and started to walk/run up the sidewalk, away from all of us. So Henry got to CALL THE POLICE AGAIN!

“Yeah, I just called,” he said, quickly reiterating the pertinent details. “Well, it’s a hit and run now,” Henry said excitedly, flashing his imaginary war medallions. “YES, HE’S ON FOOT AND FLEEING THE SCENE!” So then one of the neighbor girls decided she was going to follow him, barefoot, in spite of her mom’s protests. That was stupidly exciting, too.

It was at this point that I realized Henry and Tourette’s were hanging out with a bunch of pajama-clad, braless broads. I quickly crossed my arms over my chest.

“Where are the cops!?” Tourette’s cried. “I know for a fact that there are four of them down the street at the gas station parking lot right now, drinking coffee!” And then he made a series of unhappy grunts. Finally, a cop rolled up with the lights on and Henry practically shoved everyone out of the way to lean into the window and scream, “HE WENT THATTA WAY!” and then he completely gave an inaccurate description of the Perp. So the cop sped off in the direction of Henry’s finger and we all cheered because it was exciting, OK?

Soon, we were joined by my deceased cat Don’s grandma (her cat Teddy knocked Marcy up back in 2000 and that’s where Don and Willie came from) from four houses down. We compared horror stories of all the accidents we’ve collectively witnessed on this street, and then she decided to walk up to the Perp’s abandoned car and start rooting through it.

Logical.

“You drink and you drive and you drive and you drink and you drink and you drive,” Tourette’s began rambling to no one in particular.

I took this opportunity to fetch Chooch, who of course was still wide awake and watching lame videos in his room.

“I thought that noise was just Daddy breaking something in the kitchen as usual,” Chooch mumbled, hastily stepping into a pair of jeans so that he could join the growing throng of Nebby Debbies* outside in the lawn.

*(This is Pittsburghese for nosy motherfuckers.)

“Who owns that car?” our neighbor Ruth asked.

“It’s the guy visiting the blond lady who lives in that house down there,” Henry said with his chest sticking out. “He’s from Virginia.”

“How do you know?” I asked him, furrowing my eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” he stuttered. “I saw the guy pull up when I was cutting the grass. He’s Asian. And he has Virginia plates.”

“Cutting the grass,” you guys. I’M SO SURE. And not from the binoculars in the attic window.

“It could be a rental,” Neighbor Daughter said, recently returned from her citizen’s arrest mission. But Henry argued that it wasn’t a rental and told her all of the reasons he knows this, the number one reason being we’re basically Budget Rental’s best customers because our car is a piece of a shit. This was like the best night ever for Henry because he got to brag about knowing things that no one would typically give a shit about.

(And I still don’t.)

Just then, the cops came back and they had the Perp! I cheered with an overdose of faux-enthusiasm.

“He wasn’t going nowhere,” the main cop laughed. Even his laughter had a Yinzer-accent. “He’s piss ass drunk!”

Henry told the cop that he knocked on the car owner’s front door several times to no avail and then explained again that the car belongs to her visiting friend and we’re all like, “OK we get it, just put it in next month’s Brookline ‘zine, why don’t you.” Fuck, Henry. Maybe you should just move to Wisteria Lane.

“Maybe they’re busy,” the cop said with a sleazy wink and then laughed so hard, donut crumbs shot out of his mouth. And then he took Henry’s official statement! Talk about the best belated birthday gift of all time: Henry got to be a motherfucking witness to a hit and run. HOT DAMN.

Oh, you want to know what I was doing this whole time? Just the usual: getting in the way and giddily laughing alone the whole time. I even jumped and clapped a few times because sometimes living on this street rules. LOOK AT US ALL COMING TOGETHER IN THE NAME OF JUSTICE!

And then the tow truck arrived! OH WHAT A NIGHT! Henry loves talking to men of these sorts of vocations! While the cop went back to his vehicle to write up the report—-or Instagram his Styrofoam coffee cup, who knows—Henry and the tow truck driver got to stand around and make idle conversation about the damage done to the Lexus. I kept hearing Henry “hyuk hyuk hyuk’ing” so they must have been getting along pretty well. I just asked Henry what else they were talking about and he claims the tow truck driver was telling Henry about how busy of a night he had the night before. OK HENRY, SURE, WE BELIEVE YOU. You weren’t talking about car crash porn AT ALL.

The cop thanked us all and I over-zealously said you’re welcome! because standing around outside doing nothing other than not wearing a bra deserves appreciation, but no one could hear me over Henry’s bristling moustache and rippling ego; it was clear that no more excitement was going to evolve from this particular episode, so everyone started to wander off back to their homes and Tourette’s lumbered off into the horizon with whatever mysterious bag he had been clutching the whole time.

“Yinz have a good night!” the tow truck driver called out to us. I have never been called “yinz” so much in one night. God love Pittsburgh.

“True or false,” I demanded later when we were getting ready for bed. “This is the most excitement you’ve had since THE SERVICE.”

“It wasn’t that exciting,” Henry sighed.

Oh, but his weener told a different story.

Here is another weekend’s worth of Henry Bombs! I wish I had managed to get a “your tattoo cost HOW much?!” shot but I told him via text after I had already paid for it, haha. Sorry, Henry, next time I’ll just get my cell mate to do it for cheaper. 

The “Henry With A Mouthful of Pretzels, Yelling At Chooch For God Knows What” shot.   

The “Henry Treated Himself to a Snickerdoodle & I’m Going to Steal It” shot.  

The “10 Minutes Early Picking Up Chooch From Piano TIME FOR A QUICK NAP” selfie.    

The “Hand It Over, Henry Warbucks” shot.   

The “Nap #2 With a Bowl & His Phone” shot.   

The “Henry Oversees the Jewelry Party” guest shot by Monica!   The “Henry Listens To Wendy’s Sales Pitch” shot. 

The “Just One of the Girls” shot (Wendy moved at the last minute).    

The “Blocking Henry From Getting Stoked” shot. 

The “Henry Returns A Thing At Lowe’s” shot. 

The “THERE HAS TO BE A SPECIAL MIX FOR SUCCULENTS BUT WHERE IS IT I WILL NOT ASK” shot. 

The “Henry Waits For Someone Else To Ask For Succulent Dirt & Then Follows Them To It” shot.    

The “Concerned That His Green Tea Froyo Tastes Carbonated” shot. (He later asked the Froyo purveyors if it was supposed to taste like that and they admitted that they have never tried the green tea but that it is supposed to be slightly tart which hello, I am no stranger to the Froyo  industry but I know the difference between purposely tart and SPOILED so hopefully we survive the impending digestive backlash and then own our own Sincerely Yogurt franchise.)

(Asian Froyo joints are better.)

  
The “Henry Is Potting My Plants Because Ew Dirt” shot. 

BONUS: #thingsinhenrysbeard

And that was Henry’s weekend. Actually these are all from Sunday.