I didn’t want to wait until #mcm (MAN CRUSH MONDAY) to post this, so let’s pretend like today is #fgf (FAVORITE GUY FRIDAY).

When I first started dating Henry, I was 21 and he was 35. A LOT of people were like, “Ha-ha, say goodbye to your life. Have fun listening to country music and drinking IC Light.” Because that’s what all 35-year-old men do? And I guess I was a little worried at first, because I loved road-tripping for concerts back then. My friend Wonka and I would drive all over to see our favorite band at the time, Cold. In the first few months we were together, Cold was playing in Hershey, PA and Wonka wanted to go. I was worried that Henry would be like, “YOU ARE NOT DRIVING THAT FAR AWAY WITH ANOTHER MAN.” But Henry understood even then how much these things meant to me, and he was OK with me going.

(I mean, I totally would have still went anyway because that’s the kind of selfish, arrogant, solipsistic fucking bitch that I am!)

But then Wonka started dating the future mother of his children, and our roadtrips came to an end. I had no idea that Henry would ever want to do these things with me, because I was so used to having completely separate lives from every boyfriend I ever had. But by that May, there we were, driving to Wisconsin to see Cold. And there have been many, many more concert-spurned road trips since then, whether he liked it or not!

Wednesday night, I was watching music videos on YouTube, because that’s just what I do, when Henry said, “Look.” He was holding up his phone to show me that this year’s Riot Fest line up was finally announced. I ran over and snatched his phone from him and immediately started freaking out because FAITH NO MORE. I had a feeling that they were going to be there so my eyes were blind to everything else on the list but that for the first ten minutes. And then the more I looked at the lineup, the more I freaked out. THE NOSTALGIA FACTOR IS OFF THE FUCKING CHARTS.

I started freaking the fuck out and chanting PLEASE CAN WE GO PLEASE CAN WE GO PLEASE CAN WE GO CAN WE CAN WE CANWECANWECANWE over and over but I was pretty sure the answer was going to be no because we kind of broke the bank when we went last year. But you know, I’m immature, head-in-the-clouds Erin and I don’t think about things like RENT and GROCERIES and BILLS. I was just about reaching Veruca Salt levels of brattiness when Henry got up from the couch in a huff and said, “Don’t start!” So I sat there, staring at the lineup and crying because these are things I cry about, when I got a text from Henry, who was in the kitchen. IT WAS A SCREENSHOT OF THE TICKET CONFIRMATION OMG CAN I KEEP THIS MAN FOREVER?! I guess he knew for awhile that going again was inevitable, so he was prepared.

And it’s a good thing, because I’ve had the days requested off from work since January.

I know I bitch about him being a killjoy a lot, but even though he really doesn’t like these things at all, he still does them because he is an A+ kind of guy. And I am super lucky to be with someone who maybe doesn’t  share the same passion for music as I do, but he understands that it is a necessity for me, like food and water. I crave this stuff! I can’t tell you how many times I have gone back and looked at pictures from last year’s Riot Fest because it puts me in a good mood. That weekend was so close to perfection, and I can’t wait to do it all over again with my frowning sidekick! #blessed

(Snoop Dogg is performing Doggystyle in its entirety. My 1994-self is FUCKING FANNING HERSELF with her Snoop lyric-doodled science folder.)

I am going to be so nice to him for the next several days months. Take all the naps you want, Big Guy!

***

I can’t wait for another 3-days’ worth of frowns! 

So yeah, naysayers: 14 years later and I’m having fun listening to whatever music I want while Henry drinks craft beer.  

Another weekend is in the books, so here is the latest collection of Henry Bombs, followed by the beginnings of a brand new Henry Torture Experiment, yay! Who doesn’t like torturing Henry!?

The “Why Am I Driving You to Work When There’s a Perfectly Good Transit System Within Walking Distance From Our House and Now I’m Going To Get All Stressed Out By the Jaywalkers Downtown” shot.

The “Running Out Of the House For Ice Cream & Leaving Henry Behind To Turn Everything Off In the House & IT LOOKS LIKE HE MISSED A LIGHT” shot.

The “Shit, Henry Busted Us & Thinks He’s Cool By Flipping Off the Camera” shot.

The “My Ice Cream Is Better Than Henry’s” shot.

The “Checking Yelp For Somewhere ‘Weird & Wood-Paneled’ To Eat” shot, per my snippy instructions.

The “We Just Drove 90 Minutes To Eat 10 Minutes From Our House Because Henry Can’t Read My Mind” shot, alternately titled the “Another Chapter In Chooch’s Memoirs” shot.

The “Wearing White Socks and Black Shoes To the Petting Zoo” shot.

The “Feeding A Thing Without Getting Backtalk Is Weird” shot.

The “Quietly Calculating All the $$$ Spent This Weekend” shot.

The “It’s Memorial Day & I’ll Get An Order Of Wings With My Burger If I Want To” shot.

The “Driving Thru the Countryside and Daydreaming About Running Away and Hiding Out On a Farm” shot.

***

YOU GUYS! Here I am to introduce two new Henry series: #ThingsInHenrysBeard and #WhileHenrySleeps

I didn’t want him to feel left out after Chooch and I had our fun with face sprinkles, so I waited for him to go to bed Saturday night before gently dropping pinches of sprinkles onto his wiry beard. This picture actually features my second attempt, because after I initially got his beard suitably sprinkled, he subconsciously swatted at his face, brushing most of them out of his beard and onto his chest. I was trying so hard not to laugh that I had to keep leaving the bedroom and thank god I was so close to the bedroom because I came super close to pissing my pants.

I finally completed my mission, snapped a photo, and then went to sleep. The next morning, he woke up to go to the bathroom. Sadly, all of the sprinkles had fallen off in his sleep, but when he came back into bed, he pulled up the comforter and a shower of sprinkles flew into the air. He somehow didn’t notice this and proceeded to lay down on a bed of candy decor. Then he rolled over and his bare back was speckled with them, so I started cracking up.

“What?” he mumbled. And I just laughed harder and harder until I was choking. Finally, I showed him the picture and you guys, he actually TRIED NOT TO SMILE. You just never which way things are going to go with him!

He fell asleep on the couch yesterday because I guess he just had too much Memorial Day fun. I used this as an opportunity to paint his nails. He was less forgiving about this, though.

kbye.

The “STOP ASKING ME WHO MY FAVORITE DANCE GAVIN DANCE SINGER IS” shot.

The “Making Henry Walk To the Ice Cream Shop With Us Because I Don’t Feel Like Dealing With Paying” shot.

The “NO I DON’T WANT ANY ICE CREAM!!!!” shot.

Bonus: The “Henry Leads Us Safely Across the Street” un-bomb shot.

The “THANKS FOR PAYING FOR OUR ICE CREAM, HENRY” shot.

The “I Caught Henry Watching Kurt Travis YouTube Videos!” shot.

The “Henry’s Son Showed Up Unexpectedly!” bonus Blake bomb!

The “There’s Nowhere to Sit in the Living Room, Beard Stroking” shot.

The “OMG IS HENRY DEAD!?!??!?!” shot.

  
The “We Never Had to Wait to Cross the Street in THE SERVICE” shot. 

The “I Was On the Wrong Side of the Booth So Chooch Assisted In Capturing Henry At the Salad Bar” shot.   

The “Henry’s Got a Gun” shot. 

This is my new favorite thing & I get so gleeful over it. He busts me 75% of the time now though, even when I think I’m being slick. “Did you get your damn picture?” he’ll mutter.  

The “Henry Has to Rest His Glasses On Top of His Head In Order to Look at His Phone” shot.

BONUS VIDEO: The “Ignoring the Pretend Concert I Have Going On In Front of Him” live action shot.

The “Henry Photo-Bombed Our Spoon Selfie” shot.

The “Henry’s Making Me Iced Coffee Because I’m ‘Too Weak'” shot.

The “Henry’s Playing Some Stupid Video Game in a Spoon” shot.

The “Driving Miss Erin to DelGrosso’s Amusement Park” shot.

The “Yeah bitch, buy us that ice cream” shot.

The “Being a Good Boy & Calling His Mama on Mother’s Day” shot.

The “Too Lame to Ride the Wacky Worm” shot.

The “We’re on the Crazy Mouse But Where’s Henry?” shot.

The “Welp, Chooch is Riding the Pirate Ship So I Guess I’ll Have to Eat His Ice Cream Cone” shot.

The “Holding Our Shit While We’re on the Wacky Worm Again” shot.

The “Washing Windows with Vinegar Which Is ‘Just As Good As Windex But Safer'” shot.

Disclaimer: I can’t write objectively about Dance Gavin Dance and this post is all over the place because I’m like a little kid who just ate three meals of candy.

Before I get into the juicy details of last week’s Dance Gavin Dance show, please indulge me while I explain the sordid history of this band and what it has been like to be a fan: I go through a lot of phases, musically, but my love for Dance Gavin Dance has only gotten stronger over the years. From the moment I first heard them in my car, driving home from Cincinnati in the winter of 2008, I was entranced. I had just randomly downloaded a bunch of their stuff based on their band name and the fact that they were listed on PureVolume as post-hardcore and that is MY FAVORITE GENRE. (The amount of times I have struggled to explain what ‘post-hardcore” means to people at work is hilarious; it’s kind of like the new “wtf is emo?” in that it’s almost impossible for me to put into layman’s terms. Wiki it, I guess? Good luck!) Downtown Battle Mountain is right up there on my Stranded on an Island album list.

This was also, sadly, the start of a 7-year relationship-threatening obsession with their original clean vocalist, Jonny Craig. Thankfully, he’s no longer in DGD, which is great because I hate him now and he could have easily destroyed DGD.

Jonny era:

To this day, I have yet to hear another band that sounds even remotely like them and, in my opinion, they have only gotten better with age. The only time my love for them was strained was after they kicked out Jonny for the first time and replaced him with Kurt Travis for two albums. Look, I LOVE Kurt Travis. But during that time, their screamer Jon Mess had also left the band and his role has always been one of my favorite parts of DGD. (In fact, I think I actually fangirl over Jon more than anyone else in the band.) I only saw them live twice during the Kurt Travis-era, and ironically once was a tour where past, present and future DGD vocalists were all on: Jonny Craig was there with Emarosa, Kurt with DGD, and Tilian was there with Tides of Man. (This was in 2009, and it was also the first time I ever saw Of Mice & Men and then fell in love with Of Machines, who are sadly no longer together.) It just didn’t click with me, though I have much more appreciation for the Kurt albums now than I did then.

Kurt era:

The summer of 2010, they brought Jonny back for a new album and a tour and this was supposed to be their swan song; Jon Mess came back too and it was like the biggest music orgasm for me. I got to see Jonny perform with DGD twice after that and it was like a dream come true, and then they announced that they were going to write another new album with Jonny and it seemed like their future was so bright. Except that Jonny is a forever fuck-up and they ended up having to kick him out again, in the middle of a tour. It seemed like this was it for them for sure. Maybe Jon, Will, and Matt would just make their side project, Secret Band, their priority.

But then they announced that Tilian Pearson, formerly of Tides of Man, would be their new singer. I was on the fence. In 2011, I saw Emarosa with Tilian as an interim singer; Jonny, who was trying to be in Emarosa and DGD at the same time that year, was forced off the Emarosa tour and into detox on the same day as the Pittsburgh show. Tilian’s brother’s band at the time was also on that tour, so I guess that’s how Tilian came into play. Tilian did fine…but he wasn’t Jonny. And this is how I felt the first time I saw him with DGD at the Altar Bar. It felt wrong to me. But you guys, when they eventually recorded new music with Tilian, everything fell into place and I made a statement that I never thought I would say: Tilian is my favorite DGD singer. They just sound so cohesive with him, and he has really gotten more comfortable with performing the old stuff too. All of that said, it has been a really rewarding time to be a DGD fan. I’m Team Tilian, and DGD remains one of my favorite bands of all time.

(Henry is probably reading this and thinking, “Trust me, this is the short version.”)

Tilian era:

ANYWAY! I’m so excited because their second album with Tilian just came out in April and they were here in Pittsburgh last Sunday! I had butterflies in my stomach all weekend and kept shouting, “AREN’T YOU SO EXCITED?!?” in Henry’s face. Surprisingly, he doesn’t hate them like you would expect him to. He admitted a few years ago that he kind of liked them and I just knew it. The Robot With Human Hair Pt 2 was his ringtone for me for awhile, for Christ’s sake! He just doesn’t like being the token Old Man at all of their shows, is all.

• Henry was annoyed because instead of sitting in the car and waiting for doors to open, he had to stand in line with all of the kids. To be fair, the average age was probably about 24, but I guess when you’re as old as Henry, even that constitutes as a “kid.” There was this one teenage boy in front of us, though. His name was Collin and I know this because his mom pulled up alongside the line in her mom-wagon and started shouting, “Collin! Collin! COLLIN!” until he dejectedly left the line and walked over to her car with his head down. “I can’t wait to do that shit to Chooch,” I laughed. “Yeah, except you’ll be calling from another part of the line,” Henry mumbled. And this is probably true. Unless he starts listening to crappy bands when he’s older.
• I had a tiny container of miniature Altoids, and I tried to get Henry to pretend like they were Grown-Up drugs with me, but he was like, “Don’t be stupid.”
• As soon as we got inside Mr. Small’s, I saw Christopher Kim at the Polyphia merch booth and I got so excited! He recently made waves for leaving Jonny Craig’s current band, Slaves, and has been pretty candid on Twitter about how fucked that band is so of course I love him because Team Anyone But Slaves. I was too shy to say anything to him so I took the creepy way out and tweeted about seeing him and then he favorited it so basically, we met.
• Henry plied me with Angry Orchard in an attempt to get me to stop talking a mile a minute. I WAS SO EXCITED!!!!
• Stolas was the opening band. We saw them last September with Hail the Sun and Icarus the Owl and I loved them immediately. They’re on Will Swan’s label, Blue Swan, and are part of this intricate, technical post-hardcore sub genre that I feel like DGD should take full credit for; they’re the godfathers of this style at this point. I’ve never been a fan of prog-rock in the traditional sense, but when elements of this style is car-crashed with a post-hardcore foundation, it makes me want to start punching faces. Stolas was the perfect way to start this night. My favorite part about them is that some parts of their songs downright sound like incantations. Henry’s review: “No.”
• I like to call Henry “bae” sometimes, ironically of course, just to annoy him. But when I’m really giddy, and I was Really Giddy, I apparently called him my ride or die. “Can I choose ‘or die’?” he mumbled, while continuing to look at whatever uninteresting info his phone was showing him.
• A band I used to love was playing whilePolyphia was setting up and I played Henry’s favorite game with him, which is “Trying to Get Henry to Guess the Band & Making Him Feel Like Shit When He Fails.” Here are the clues I gave him:
  • This album is called The Ugly Organ.
  • Henry hates them.
  • Tim Kasher is their singer.
  • His other band is The Good Life.
  • We saw them at Coachella in 2004.
  • Saddlecreek.
  • “My ego’s like my stomach– it keeps shitting what I feed it.”
    • If you guessed Cursive, then you have one more point than Henry does.
• Hail the Sun is amazing. That’s literally the note I wrote myself in my phone. This was my fourth time seeing them and they just keep getting better. We saw their drummer/singer Donovan outside of the venue when we were in line and even Henry knew who he was because HE CAN’T ESCAPE THIS SCENE. Imagine how boring his life would be if he was with a girl who only listened to the radio. Boring, but probably a lot happier and with less headaches, haha. Henry’s review: “*shrugged* It’s too early in the morning for this. You should have been a news reporter.”
• The crowd was so much better than at the Circa Survive show earlier in the week. I was basically in love with every one there. Maybe those really were Grown-Up Drugs in my Altoids tin….
  • The cider also helped.
• Polyphia, holy shit. This was my first time seeing them and they blew my fucking mind. Like CHON, they’re also 100% instrumental. The crowd went apeshit over them and I think it says a lot about the talent of a band when they can capture the attention of young people without gimmicks or, you know, a vocalist. Henry did not like them, but that means nothing.

And then……..DGD!

Here are the notes I had in my phone:

• THUG CITY
• EVERYTHING IS AMAZING
• PERFECT CROWD
• JONNY WHO
• TILIAN IS THE BEST

Oh no, tangent: What I love the most about DGD fans is that most of them are music geeks in that they understand and appreciate the technicality involved in DGD’s music. These are the kinds of people who want to meet Will Swan after the show to talk about time signatures and ask him about his pedals. This is why I think that DGD is so fucking underrated. They’ve been unfairly marginalized and stuffed into a generic scene pigeonhole, which is why I think that their fan base remains young. Young people keep their minds open when it comes to music. Granted, there were some people at the show around my age, but it made me wonder: why hasn’t their fan base grown with them? Why do people hit a certain age in their 20s and just abandon what they used to love? I hope that doesn’t happen to me, ever.

DON’T PANIC, I’VE GOT A PLAN:

Tilian can sing any of the Jonny-era songs with motherfucking panache.

I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY! This post is all over the place, just like their music, and just like my brain. One of the things that I miss most about Barb not working at The Law Firm anymore is that I wasn’t able to go to work the next day and vomit all of my feelings onto her desk. She was always so good about patiently listening to me jaw off about DGD! I remember telling her a long time ago that I liked this music because it panders to the dysfunction in my head; it’s what my brain would play if you plopped it on a turntable and put the needle down.

“I just love Jon Mess so much!” I shouted to Henry. “Did you know he’s a genius?” I LOVE REMINDING HENRY OF THAT! I have never loved a screamer so much before.

I didn’t stop moving the entire night and my body spent the next two days reminding me of Sunday’s perfection. I think I smiled all day long on Monday. MONDAY! Come at me, work week; I just saw DGD.

I’m so proud of this band for powering through all of the shit and turmoil and managing to create two beautiful works of art with Tilian. It feels so good to be a DGD fan. One of these days, I’m going to finally get that Robot with Human Hair tattoo. He might be holding a sword-speared strawberry.

Henry’s review: “I’ve heard all of these songs. Many times.”

**Party Peeps**

• Zac
• Lucy
• Olivia & Sophia
• Owen
• Jolee
• Sharyn
• Harland
• Kara
• Chris and Monica
• Corey
• Janna

Chooch decided a while back that he wanted to have a laser tag birthday party, even though none of us have played before. Believe me, I was fine with this because it meant SMALL. As in: FEW KIDS. I’m not sure who was more excited the day of his party: Chooch or me.

Once everyone arrived, our personal party coordinator came in and led us to the laser tag holding cell, where she bumbled through the rules of the game and pretty much had us utterly confused. We split into two teams without hesitation: Awesome Adults vs. Dumb Kids. And then Janna “accidentally” gouged the back of my arm with her stupid laser gun and I was like “Bitch, best count your blessings that we’re on the same damn team.”

But then I noticed that after Henry was done helping all of the kids suit up, he stayed over on their side. “C’mon, Erin. They have to have at least one adult or it won’t be fair!”

Yeah, exactly! Why give them a chance!?

I was instantly nervous about this. Henry and I being on opposing teams means that Super Competitive Extreme Asshole Erin comes out. I was hoping that we could be on the same team so that I wouldn’t have to get stressed out and possibly risk eviction from Laser Storm and/or losing a friend. (I really think this is why my friend Stacey hasn’t come to one of my game nights since 2009. I get real ugly.) So look, I’m competitive in general, but as soon as the competition involves Henry as an opponent, I take it to new levels. Any old friends reading this remember the dreaded New Years Eve Trivial Pursuit debacle that resulted in me flipping over the game board (the table was too heavy to flip) and screaming about how everyone hates me all over some question about Yoshi? And then spending the next year constantly bringing up the fact that not a single person there that night cared enough to stop me from driving home drunk and psychotic?

O MEM’RIES.

My mantra is always, “I don’t care if I lose as long as Henry doesn’t win.” And the sad thing is that he genuinely always wants me to win!

I’m sorry, Henry fans, but as soon as our respective team doors opened to the laser tag arena, Henry went from being my loving life partner/father of my child/all-around Jeeves to motherfucking Bin Laden. I COULDN’T WAIT TO SHOOT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM!

One of the twins was smart and chose my team. She said she didn’t want to be on her sister’s team, and I understood. SHE WANTED TO WIN.

Once we were in the darkened room, a strange combination of panic and adrenaline melted over me and I realized I forgot everything we learned, all of the rules, all of the objectives. But then I remembered that I had but one mission: KILL HENRY. So I put my blinders on to everything but Henry’s dumb head and I shot that motherfucker every single chance I got. I even did the whole run-dive-shoot thing at one point and sincerely hurt my hip but I think my shot hit him so it was obviously worth it.

Oh, and no big deal, but my team won.

Because Henry is a cheap-ass, he only paid for ONE ROUND of laser tag. And apparently one round is only like 15 minutes! (Which apparently is long enough for my hair to stick to my neck with war-sweat.) Luckily, we had the party room for an hour and a half though, so we didn’t have to kick anyone out after the game was over.

Back in the party room, Party Warden passed out everyone’s score cards and I was pleased to see that I at least beat Janna. I don’t think any of the kids so much as glanced at their score cards, but us adults studied and compared ours obsessively for a good ten minutes. Monica was extremely disturbed by the inaccuracy of her score card and I think it came close to ruining her whole day. “Apparently, it doesn’t matter how many times you hit base, because it’s worth ZERO POINTS,” she announced bitterly.

Asshole Henry shot me one time more than I shot him, so that sucked. But the real victory was that Henry was NOT the MVP of the whole entire game—Corey was! SUCK IT, HENRY!

But then Corey kept bragging about being MVP and I was like, “UGH SUCK IT, COREY!”

I took this picture shortly after I burst Corey’s MVP bubble by snapping, “Whatever, at least I can see colors.” #mybrotheriscolorblind

In this picture, you will note Henry’s naturally-sour face looking even more acerbic. Apparently, he had taste-tested the Sierra Mist and was appalled. “IT HAS NO TASTE!” he said repeatedly until people eventually started looking around the room and saying, “Do you hear something? Is someone talking to us? Oh, it’s just Henry.”

He ended up sending back the Sierra Mist because it was “just carbonation.” He was a huge dick about it too. The party warden was like, “Shucks sir, I have no idea what you’re bitching about but sure, I’ll bring you another pitcher if it means you’ll stop twitching your molester ‘stach in my general direction.” That broad could not wait for our 90 minutes to expire.

If Henry had a blog, his version of this day would be all about how he saved the children from imbibing defective soft drinks, spent so much money in order to buy his son’s happiness, and probably some boring anecdote about when he was in THE SERVICE not fighting in a war. Laser tag was probably more dangerous and combative than anything he did while “SERVING.”

Included in the party package was a cake, and it was actually not as disgusting as I imagined it would be. We sang the weirdest version of Happy Birthday to Chooch, and I have no idea who set the tone, but it sounded like a fucking funeral dirge. (See also: Nick Cave singing Gregorian chants to a dead person.) I thought maybe it was just me, but afterward, everyone seemed to mutually agree that it was weird and the party warden looked nervous.

In this picture, Monica is using the calculator on her phone to work out what her actual score was since none of her base hits made it on her score card.

All of the kids got tokens for the game room afterward, and there were a bunch left over so the rest of us practically mauled Henry for some.

Monica was obsessed with this old broad with her nose in a Danielle Steele book who had the audacity to make disgusted scowls at all of the children running around making gleeful sounds. She was sitting so close to the skee ball row that it’s surprising that no one tried to roll one of the balls off her surly, disapproving face.

“Seriously? You expect to be able to read your book peacefully in a LASER TAG ARENA?!” Monica scoffed. “Please take a picture of her,” she whispered to me.

I don’t remember being so terrible at skee ball. I gave the rest of my tokens to some child.

Chris texted me before the party and said that one of the gifts she bought him might be a bit girlish, and should she wait until the other kids weren’t around before giving it to him? I said no, because I’m always up for watching my child being humiliated, but it turned out to be a “yummy crochet” kit and he could barely contain all of the stoked feelings. Chooch mentioned not too long, at dinner with Chris and Monica, that he wanted to learn how to crochet (specifically, the Japanese style of crocheting, amigurumi). Of course, this conversation turned weird, with the suggestion that Chris become possessed by the ghost of Henry’s late grandmother in order to teach Chooch how to crochet.

Hey, if you read the post about Chooch’s actual birthday, then you already know the spoon story. But here it is again, anyway, BECAUSE I LOVE TELLING IT! We had a small family party on Chooch’s real birthday, and by the end of the night, he was exhausted and cranky. Some might say his “inner Erin” was coming out. When he walked past Corey on his way to bed, he stopped and in this totally shitty, sarcastic tone, said, “Oh and thanks for much for the present, Corey.”

“Your mom said I could just bring your present to your laser tag party next week!” Corey cried defensively.

“Whatever, it’s probably just going to be a spoon,” Chooch spat in a spoiled tone. And as he began to walk away, he paused and added, “For me to shove up my ass!” He wasn’t even trying to be funny, but Corey, Janna and I all fucking lost it. It was late, we were slap-happy, and then that happened and it turned into A Thing.

Corey made a note in his phone that just said “Get spoon.”

And oh, he got a spoon, alright. Corey had it tucked in the gift bag with the actual presents he bought Chooch, but I suggested that we take the real presents out and hide them, so it looked like literally all he got Chooch was a spoon.

When Chooch pulled it out of the bag, he was so confused. I couldn’t believe he had forgotten in a week! His cousin Zac said, “Is that for your mom to beat you?” and all of his friends were just like, “Your parties are so weird.” It wasn’t until he read the card that he realized it was from Corey and then it all kind of clicked, so he stormed off to “have words” with him. Total highlight of the party.

The Spoon. It has become something of a phenomenon in our house. We take #spoonselfies now and Henry is making a plaque for it so that when Chooch isn’t toting it around, he’ll have a place to hang it for the night.

In this short video, you can see the tail end of Monica saving my face from acquiring a basketball imprint, laser tag sounds (that’s my dumb voice screaming “OH MY G—-” at the end), and the Unwrapping of the Spoon. I wish I had a video of the super-sad Zoloft commercial happy birthday serenade, but COREY deleted it because he didn’t like how his VOICE sounded! Ugh, the worst!

***

Chooch just strutted past in his underwear and I asked him if he had anything to add while I’m writing this. He said, “Yeah, thanks for the spoon, Corey.” And then as he ascended the staircase to his room, he mumbled, “I love it.”

I still have no idea how we managed to not get kicked out.

Let’s recover from the weekend with a new collection of Henry Bombs!

The “Henry’s Not Sitting In My New Car” shot.

The “Have Fun With Your New Car; I’ll Just Ride Chooch’s Bike” shot.

The “Treat Yo’Self to a Frosty” shot.

The “Taking a Stroll Down Memory Lane at His Sister’s House” shot.

The “Henry’s  Arms Are Akimbo Because He Knows What I’m Doing” shot.

The “Getting the Rocks Out of His Shoes” shot.

The “Attending a Show at Mr. Small’s Twice In Less than a Week, FML” shot.

***

In related my news, my friend Elaine suggested that I start a Henry’s Frowns Facebook page, and I’m totally on board with that. It could be a REAL LIFE CLUB! With MEMBERSHIP CARDS! And STICKERS! And NEWSLETTERS with WORD SEARCHES!

Me, looking around at all of the groups of friends who were stoked to be seeing Circa Survive together: Don’t you wish we had a crew?

Henry: Nope. I wish you did.

*********

Tuesday, April 28th marked my 4th time seeing Circa Survive in the span of one year. (The 6th time seeing Anthony Green in general, though, if you count the Sound of Animals Fighting and Saosin.) And it’s  too early in the morning for me to attempt and count how many times since 2005. Suffice to say, I really love this band and I was giddy as fuck all day at work because I was going to see them that night.

We went straight to Millvale after Henry picked me up from work and ate at the Grant Bar & Lounge. How have I been going to shows at Mr. Small’s for more than a decade and never eaten here?! And to think we were originally going to eat at the Subway across the street.

This place was everything I love in a dive: First, you have to walk through the bar to get to the dining room so you can take a quick tour of the town’s underbelly. And the walls are faux-stone! It was so Bavarian! I LOVE BAVARIAN.

Old school waitress buzzer!

I can’t really explain why else I liked this joint so much, other than you could tell it hadn’t been renovated since before I was born. I love dark, cave-like restaurants.

Henry had a burger and I had a grilled portabello sandwich with homemade onion rings. The food was fine (my Yelp nemesis gave them a thirty paragraph review all to say that his experience was “fair, a three-star experience, the Thesaurus taught me 92 new words as I was writing this review.” Fuck, I hate that man so badly. Of course, he gave 5 stars to the place in Millvale I originally wanted to try, so now I’m glad we didn’t go there), but it was really the ambiance that made it special for me. (Until the bitch-baby in the booth across from us started acting like an asshole and of course no one cared because she was the granddaughter of one of the waitresses and every single person eating there was a townie and used to it.)

We were about to pay the check when I overheard the old broads in the booth behind us inquire about the desserts, and our waitress started bragging about the coconut cream pie. THAT IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE PIES. But it’s really easy to get a shitty piece. They ended up ordering it and when I saw that the topping was whipped cream and not meringue (a thousands fist-shakes in the face of meringue), I had to order a piece ASAP.

And I shouldn’t have, because my stomach was already emitting a series of beeps and shocks to remind me that it was over capacity.

But, pie.

COCONUT CREAM pie.

It was the best damn coconut cream pie I have ever had, and I felt so strongly about this that I wrote a “Dear Grant’s Bar” love letter on the back on the check. (Henry was just happy that it was a positive ode for once, and not one of my infamous THIS PLACE SUCKS I HOPE YOU DIE death threats that I may have been known to scrawl from time to time before dashing out the door.)

However, those last forkfuls of food (what would my Yelp nemesis have used here? Vittles? Sustenance? Something Arabic?) really sent my digestive system into overdrive. I thought I would feel better once we walked to Mr. Small’s afterward, because walking off a meal typically helps me, but no. I spent the rest of the night in deep regret. And by regret I mean that I reached a point where I couldn’t even stand up straight. And of course it was a sold out show, and the balcony area was VIP-only that night.

We ended up all of the way in the front row, but over the side, so I could lean against the stage all night. And lean I did. At some points, I was also sagged and half-collapsed across it, too. The pain was real and just kept getting worse.

The opening band was CHON. I knew that Henry wouldn’t like them. I whispered, “FYI, they don’t sing” when we were waiting for them to come out. Henry HATES that. But I have been following them on Facebook for a few years and was excited to finally see them. I heard a girl nearby ask the guy next to her if they were the same style as Circa Survive. The guy and I both laughed at the same time, and he said, “Uh, no. Not at all.”

I’m sorry, Henry, but they were pretty sick to watch and I felt like they were channeling Chuck Mangione at times. I don’t listen to this style of music very often, but it served as a nice reminder that vocals aren’t always necessary to feel something, and I am definitely guilty of focusing too much on the singing sometimes.

Balance and Composure was next and I have to be honest here: seeing that they were on this tour made me even more excited about it because I have liked them for years yet have somehow never seen them live!

I have also never really paid attention to what they look like, so I was in for a shock when they took the stage because Jon, the singer, looked so much like my co-worker A-ron that I started to wig out a little bit. I kept taking pictures to send to all of my work friends, and the next day 98% of them were like, “Holy shit, are we sure it’s not really A-ron?!” except for TODD who said that it only kind of looked like him, and JEANNIE who frowned and said “not at all” and that it just looked like “an average guy with brown hair.”

“If everyone else said it didn’t look like him, you would say it did,” I said to Jeannie in a huff, which just made her laugh BECAUSE IT’S TRUE! She enjoys being the voice of dissent. But whatever, because when I saw A-ron that day, I said to him, “I’m surprised you’re here today after your big show last night” and then I showed him the picture and A-RON HIMSELF WAS LIKE OMG. But showing him turned out to be a mistake because it totally went to his head and then he kept making air-guitar motions and that was just weird.

Anyway, seeing Balance and Composure was worth the wait. I loved it, even though my stomach was like, “NOW can we go home??”

“Remember that coconut cream pie?” I dreamily said to Henry after CHON, punctuating it with a tiny burp.

“It wasn’t that great,” he mumbled.

Somewhere in between CHON and B&C, the super normal, inoffensive and unassuming girl who was next to me moved to a different spot and before I had the chance to move over into her vacated space, the grossest couple usurped it from me. The girl was about 5 feet tall and had SCENE HAIR. I haven’t seen SCENE HAIR since 2009. It was big and teased and so close to my face that I fixated on ripping out the bobby pins all night. And she stunk, you guys. Like Love’s Baby Soft and filth.

Now I’m picturing her trying to visit someone in jail with all of those bobby pins in her gross hair.

Her boyfriend was this big fucking Jersey Shore gorilla juice head who was wearing a TIGHT DRESS SHIRT.

You know how sometimes you just can’t help it, but you hate someone on sight? These were two people who did not have to give you any more of a reason to hate them other than just existing. AND THEY KEPT LOVINGLY GIVING EACH OTHER PECKS ON THE LIPS as if I wasn’t already having a hard time holding back my bile. I was having vivid hallucinations of yanking the rat’s nest off her head, I just couldn’t stand her. And during B&C, she spotted Anthony Green and squealed to her boyfriend and then jumped up and down and clapped her tiny little scene-fairy hands and I was like OH HOW FUCKING SWEET. YES I’M SURE YOU HAVE A SHOT WITH ANTHONY GREEN.

Then Gorilla Juice Head left her to stand ALL ALONE while he went and purchased practically one of everything from the merch booth for her, which she then kept in a pile on the side-stage area in front of her, and I swear to god she kept looking at me over her shoulder and then sliding her t-shirts closer to her, like yeah bitch, I’m going to steal your XS shirts. I just hated the way she kept looking at me, like I didn’t belong there, and I know it’s awful and I shouldn’t care, but it made me feel really uncomfortable (like I wasn’t already thanks to Grant’s Bar) and I started to feel like everyone was staring at me and that maybe I really didn’t belong there, and I haven’t had such low self-esteem issues like that at a show in a REALLY LONG TIME.

I would have just moved somewhere else, but I really needed to stay where I was because leaning against that stage was like a literal crutch for me, that’s how bad my stomach hurt. It was a sold-out show, and there was quite honestly no better place for me to go, other than home. And I wasn’t leaving without seeing Circa Survive.

Then this happened: 

WOW JUST WOW HENRY.  
Also, I felt disoriented because I swear every time we go to Mr. Small’s, something in there has changed. They’re constantly working on additions, which is great, but it’s made it seem very unfamiliar to me. I felt like a stranger in a place that used to be home.

And this is why this ended up being the worst Circa Survive show I’ve ever gone to. And it’s nothing against the band at all, because they were such amaze much wow as usual. I just could barely enjoy it.

They played all of my faves from Juturna. That album never gets old.

I felt like I was floating out of my body at one point. The pain, so real. Call an ambulance. And Henry kept getting pushed into me and every time I felt his belly pressing into my back I wanted to fucking murder him. I kept turning around to glare at him and he hissed, “What do you want me to do? Do you SEE all of the people in here?!” Ugh, I just didn’t want to be touched! It was terrible! Anthony’s antics were only making it slightly more tolerable, but I admittedly kept praying, “Please let this be the last song” 20 minutes into their set. It was hard enough standing there in physical pain, but the vibe from the crowd exacerbated my discomfort. Even Henry was like, “There were a lot of assholes there that night.” And Henry’s threshold for assholes is much greater than mine.

I was really looking forward to this show. I woke up with that excited thrill in my belly and spent all day at work bouncing in my seat, counting down the minutes. But, I guess they can’t all be wins, right? This show ranks at the bottom, with the 2005 Grog Shop show and last December’s Philly show with Terri tying for first place. That December hometown show was just so right on so many levels.

It took more than  two days for my stomach to make up with me. I don’t know what the hell Grant’s did to me, other than my stomach just being overly sensitive to greasy food these days. That’s one way to keep the weight off!

***

Today, while following Chooch around on a bike trail, I asked Henry some questions about his billionth Circa Survive experience. Here are his scintillating* answers:

*(I did not consult a Thesaurus on that, thx.)

What did you think of CHON?

*gives me a ‘don’t be stupid’ look*

Did you like Balance and Composure?

Ehhhhhhhh. Not really.

If you could use your beard to smuggle anything into a concert, what would it be?

I don’t know. I wouldn’t. Why do I need to smuggle anything in? I just want to get out. 

Do you like old or new Circa Survive songs best?

I don’t know the difference. *mumbles: I can’t believe I’m answering these*

What was the highlight for you? You’re sleeping!!

I’m not sleeping, I’m thinking! I don’t know. Two girls fighting at the end. 

Off the top of your head, name three bands that you dislike seeing even more than Circa Survive.

Whatever that first band was. Crone? Cron? 

Slaves. 

If Anthony Green started a line of barbeque sauces, how tempted would you be to try them?

That’s a weird question. I would try them, but only because it’s barbecue sauce.  

I would pour some on my Anthony Greenbeans and dip my Circa Surfries in it. How does it make you feel when Anthony spreads his mouth open with his hands?

Weird. 

Does it bring back prepubescent memories of sexual confusion?

*sleeping for real*

HENRY!!!

No. 

(I don’t think he understood the question.)

3 comments

The “Henry’s Sleeping; What a Shocker” shot. 

The “Tried To Snap Henry Turning Off the Light Before Leaving the House, But He Moved Too Fast” failed shot. 

The “Henry Driving Professionally to Target” shot. 

 The “Henry Is Picking Out New Underroos” shot.

 The “Henry Can’t Find the Bread Aisle” shot. 

 The “Henry Can’t Believe a Store This Big Has Such a Small Bread Selection” shot. 

 The “‘WHERE ARE THE FUCKING BUNS?!’ Henry Cried” shot. 

 The “Henry Can Use the Self-Check Out Because He’s Not Buying Robitussin” shot. 

The “Henry Just Yelled at Me and Then Looked Around to See If Anyone Heard” shot. 

  
The “Henry’s In the Kitchen Where He Belongs” shot. 

  
The “Henry Thru Church Grass; Don’t Ask” shot. 

  
The “Henry Got Sucked Into Watching a YouTube Video of a Teenage Girl Playing Show n Tell with Everything She Bought at the Grocery Store & Now She’s Showing Him Coachella-Inspired Makeup” shot. 

Clearly, Dance Gavin Dance is one of my favorite bands in the whole entire world, so when they offered an extremely limited edition mega-bundle pre-order that included hand-written lyrics, my brain was like DO NOT EVEN LOOK AT THE PRICE JUST FUCKING PURCHASE! So I did and Henry was like, “That’s fine. I didn’t need to buy groceries this week.” Except that he kept those surly sentiments in his head because he knows better than to get lippy with me when it comes to band stuff.

I got my pre-order in the mail last week, and a day later, the lyrics were sent directly from Tilian Pearson! (I was very happy with the song that was chosen for me, too! Although, I would have been happy with any of them, to be honest, because this new album is perfection.) I couldn’t wait to go out and buy a frame for the lyrics, but then I was like, “HENRY CAN YOU MAKE ME A MAT OUT OF THE INSTANT GRATIFICATION ALBUM ART?!” and he did it because he is the fucking best in the whole entire world and I love him.

(I only love him when he’s doing shit for me, FYI. I haven’t turned soft on you.)

And now it’s on the wall, right next to the DGD painting I made back in 2008 out of the DGD t-shirt that Christina bought for me that fit too awkwardly.

I’m so happy right now. It’s the little things, guys.

And a big shout out to Mattias Adolfsson, the phenomenal artist who designed most of DGD’s album covers. I am infatuated with him.

For Throwback Thursday, I was revisiting old LiveJournal stories when I came across this one from 2004 that sincerely illustrates my relationship with Henry. We are exactly the same! I don’t know if I should be happy that, after 14 years, he still pays enough attention to what I’m doing to feel the need to scold me; or embarrassed that I honestly haven’t matured one tiny smidge. 

The only difference is now that we have a kid, he’s doing twice the scolding. 

Anyway, while I go back to complaining to Henry about my latest workout injuries, please enjoy Our Day at the Homewood Cemetery. 

***************

March 28th, 2004

Today at the cemetery, Henry utilized each and every phrase in his repertoire of scolding verbiage.

“Stop it!”

“Shhh!”

“Put that down!”

“You’re a fucking weirdo.”

“People go to jail for that!”

“Leave the cat alone.”

“Get down from there!”

And let’s not forget the obligatory “Grow up.” I need a new walking partner. Any takers? 

We were in one of the mausoleums and there was this one hallway that was completely dark. I was terror-stricken and started running. That constituted a “settle down” from Papa H. We couldn’t get out the one door to leave and naturally, since I’m prone to panicking, I completely forgot that there was another exit. My heart was beating so fast, and Henry started making references to “Phantasm.” (Although he originally kept saying “Hellraiser” until I corrected him. Because I’m the best.) Anyhow, we made it out safely and I informed Henry that I had chills. He was all, “That’s because it was cold in there.” He’s such a parade shitter.

The cat that I saw, though, I think was a ghost. I chased it all over the place, in spite of Henry’s warnings of rabies. 

There was a guy and girl that were cleaning off this one section of graves, and I was trying to contain my laughter, which resulted in my snorting. Henry hissed, “Some people come here for a reason, you know.” He’s such a hater.

The best is the look that he gets on his face when I randomly let loose an ear piercing shriek. Tormenting him is the best part of our relationship.

Preshow: We left early so we could stop and eat and drink before the show. It was early enough that when we got to Rivertown restaurant it was still happy hour, only I happened to be in the bathroom when the waitress explained the specials to Erin, and when I got back of course she didn’t listen to them or she did and chose not to tell me, then she made us leave early, because ” show starts at 6″ she said, only the doors opened at 6. So I lost a half an hour of cheap drafts, damn her already! So all I got was 2 wheat beers and a pizza, no time to try anything else.

Standing in line: Got to stand in line for the next hour behind the most annoying “rocker mom”, who at the old age of 39 had done everything possible when it comes to concerts, at least thats what she was telling the little 16 year olds that were around her, fawning over her every word. Thanks again Erin.

PVRIS: Needs work on singing live.Good on their CD.

[Ed. Note: Strongly disagree with this assessment. Lynn had me at hello. Or whatever her first word was. But apparently Henry the Voice Coach knows all.]

Mallory Knox: Didn’t really do anything for me. Was too busy wishing I could sit up in the balcony with the other parents, Erin said I could if I wanted to, that really means do it and Ill never let you live it down, ever. So I grabbed another beer and stuck it out.

Sleeping with Sirens: Kellin Quinn still cant sing live, they just play the music louder to drown him out.Opening of the show was cool. I believe it was after this set that Erin had a can that she wanted to throw away in the garbage can that was over the railing right in front of her, maybe a foot way. She waited for the guy that was in front of it to move, shot and missed, making the girl on the steps to walk down and pick it up, shooting Erin the evil eye the whole time, way to go.

[Ed.Note: Untrue. That girl was looking at me with utter veneration and reverence, because she recognized that I am a PTV Elder-Fan. We are a rare breed, few and far between, practically Scene Unicorns. Kids stutter in our presence.]

Pierce the Veil: Seen them many times good as always!

Favorite PTV song: Not sure , Don’t know the names of any of them. Since the names have nothing to do with the songs, I’m too old to memorize that shit.

1. Henry Hearst

Over at Barb’s desk this morning, I was talking about how I was recently blown off by someone who usually traps me in long-winded conversations; it made me feel worthless and for a moment I felt the need to fight to win back that person’s affection. But..only for a second.

Barb and Nate thought this was hilarious that the tables had turned.

“Isn’t that called Nightingale Syndrome? Like when the patient falls for the nurse?” Nate asked.

“Sounds more like Stockholm Syndrome, to me,” Barb laughed.

“That’s basically how could you describe the last 13 years of my relationship with Henry,” I pointed out.

“So…should we start calling you Patty Hearst?” Barb suggested.

“NO, YOU SHOULD CALL HENRY THAT!” I blurted out, desperate to be the first one to say it.

Good thing, too, because Barb had just started to say it too, BUT I WON.

“Will he start wearing berets?” Nate asked excitedly.

YES, YES, YES. New Henry graphics coming soon!

2. Henry Robbins, Pat Travers Fan Club Pres.

“Bad to the Bone” was on last night when Henry and I were going to bed.

This is one of the casualties one must suffer when listening to the radio, hearing terrible songs. But! I enjoy having this particular radio station on in the bedroom because they play a lot of good shit from the 80s, which some people might argue is an oxymoron, but I’ll tell you what: when “Drive” by The Cars came on right after crappy George Thorogood, I got all wistful and reminiscent because the 1980s have some kind of wicked emotional hold on me that I can’t explain, because I was born in 1979 so it’s not like I have actual romantic connections to that era, but when I hear certain songs from the 80s, in my head, I am 21-years-old for an entire decade and living in NYC.

It’s like having a split personality that actually is stuck in the 80s.

Great. Another one of my psychological disorders, shared with the Internet; someone, reel me back in.

“This song is probably in my Top 10 of most hated songs,” I confessed to Henry as “Bad to the Bone” filled my head with a symphony of crashing pots and pans. I half-expected him to say that this was his wedding song, but instead he admitted that he wasn’t a fan either.

“I used to go to this pool hall called Fat Daddy’s and that song was always playing. That one and ‘Boom Boom Out Go the Lights’,” Henry mumbled into his pillow.

A rare insight into his past life! This almost never happens.

“WAS IT WHEN YOU WERE IN THE SERVICE?!” I pressed.

“No, and this is why I don’t tell you things!” Henry barked. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Then I  made the mistake of saying I had no idea what the fuck kind of song “Boom Boom Out Go the Lights” so Henry unglued his sleep-heavy lids and excitedly YouTubed it for me.

“That sounds like a really shitty song,” I sneered, because everything he likes is stupid (I’d say “Except me!” but do we know that he actually likes me?).

“BECAUSE IT’S A LIVE VERSION, OK?

! It’s all I can find.” So defensive. This is how I know that Henry is a huge Pat Travers fan. It is now my mission to find where he keeps all his old ticket stubs hidden.

We the people need to know more about this alleged Fat Daddy’s and if Henry ever tailgated before a Pat Travers show. I think this means it’s time to conduct another Henry Interview. It’s been way too long since the last one. Got questions? Fire away!

3. Housewife Henry

Henry is in the kitchen, bitching about how he has to make everyone dinner.

“Why don’t you do what other housewives do—-” I began suggesting.

“I’m not a housewife,” Henry brusquely interrupted.

“Sorry, ‘working women’,” I corrected myself, making exaggerated air quotes before going on to say that he should make a week’s worth of meals on Sunday and freeze them.

Then I quickly left the kitchen before he turned me into tomorrow’s meatloaf.

[I just dramatically annunciated the title of this post for Henry, who said, “That’s really stupid.”

HHHHHHUUUUUUU-ENRY HHHHHHHHHU—-WEDNESDAY.

Yeah, it’s stupid. I KNOW OK.]

1. Donuts

There’s this amazing donut shop called Donut Friend, owned by MARK TROMBINO. (If you don’t know who he is, that makes me sad, and also he’s a MULTI-PLATINUM record producer and was also in the band Drive Like Jehu, OMG I loved them.) I’m not a huge donut person, but these donuts look disgustingly perfect and also have names like the S’MORRISSEY, CHOCOLATE FROM THE CRYPT, COCONUT OF CONFORMITY, FUDGEGAZI, BACON182 and of course DRIVE LIKE JELLY.

Their cinnamon buns are called Jimmy Eat Swirls, for fuck’s sake.

You might have guessed that these are brilliant plays on BAND NAMES AND I HAVE TO EAT THEM ALL EXCEPT THE BACON182 ONE BECAUSE — MEAT.

Why would Henry and I fight about this, you’re wondering but probably not because by now you know that we’ll fight about anything.

We fought about it because I have been begging him to take me to LA and he’s like “WE’RE NOT GOING TO LA JUST FOR DONUTS” and I’m like no shit, Amoeba Records too. But then he had the audacity to say, “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW IF THEY TASTE GOOD” and I said I DID know, because how could donuts with such perfect names NOT taste good? So then he got angry because the only reason I want to eat the donuts in the first place is because of their names and I’m like yeah so? Why can’t he just be OK with that?

We fought about this in the car after he picked me up from work Wednesday night and he made me so stressed out about it that I had to sit on my hands so I wouldn’t Turn Erin and start clawing his face or pulling his hair.

2. Me Fighting with Chooch

This is a thing that happens pretty much every day because Chooch knows everything which is unfortunate because I happen to know everything, too, yet somehow the things we know are NEVER THE SAME. We literally will fight about anything and everything and it drives Henry mad because he hates how competitive we are with each other and he’s always imploring me to “be the bigger person” but then I have to go ahead and have the last word because I’m ALWAYS THE BIGGER PERSON HAVE YOU SEEN MY THIGHS THEY’RE LIKE TREE TRUNKS. Just let me win!!

“Stop engaging him!” Henry cried Friday night while Chooch and I basically screamed “NO YOU SHUT UP!!!!” back and forth until even Marcy rolled her eyes, to which Chooch sneered, “YEAH MOMMY” and then Henry snapped and said to him, “I can still engage you!”

At least SOMEONE is getting engaged.

3. Paul Eugene

He just doesn’t get it. Every night, I am getting raptured by the joy that is Paul Eugene’s gospel aerobics and Henry leaves the room in a huff. Because Henry hates to see me happy, that’s why! After the hockey game last night, I did a 30-minute cardio celebration routine while Henry pouted in the bedroom. When it was over, I told Henry he could come back down, but in that short period of time, I found a short, 10-minute workout that I wanted to try because Paul was wearing a red t-shirt and red track pants, and I hadn’t ever seen him in red before. So Henry came into the room and shouted, “YOU SAID YOU WERE DONE” and I said, “Well, I guess I changed my  mind, didn’t I?” and then he threw one of his signature little tantrums (you know, because that’s so in character for him) and stomped back upstairs. SORRY if I’m trying to better myself and PAUL is helping me in ways that you CAN’T, Henry.

I got angry at Henry Thursday night because he returned from the store right when I was in the middle of a Paul Eugene dance workout. I was just about to start the “giving an offering” step when Henry WALKED IN FRONT OF ME and totally made me lose my count.

He won’t even respond to my Paul Eugene-related texts during the day, and wasn’t interested when I woke him up late last night to tell him that one of my old high school friends is friends with Paul on Facebook!

Look, right now Henry is enjoying some banal TV program but little does he know I’m about to stop writing after this sentence so I can go and get my motherfucking GOSPEL ON.

[ETA: while I was doing my gospel dance celebration workout, the neighbor knocked on our door so I ran upstairs and let Henry answer it, in his underwear, while Paul Eugene was in the background, praise-walking and screaming about giving thanks.]

4. Music

As in, I want all of it and to go to all of the shows. I finally bought my Pierce the Veil ticket for next month—at the same time my student loans came out of the account—and the CHACHING!! sound effects accompanying the draining of our bank account was muffled by the rumbles and crunches of Henry’s face folding into deep creases and stress lines. And then I had the audacity to make Henry listen to A Lot Like Birds, which he hates, and we fought because he disagreed when I said, “Don’t you think this song is pretty much perfect?”

I think he’s just pissed that he’s not smart enough to come up with lines like “Your body is a howling, haunted petting zoo that I really shouldn’t touch.”

(But on the real though, that 3:54 mark where Kurt Travis painfully wails “You’re already dressed”? It makes tears spontaneously drop from eyes like hydrogen bombs of sadness. Every. Single. Time.)

(Yes, even right now.)

5. Every Little Thing For the Last 2 Hours

I woke up hating him this morning. He probably did something fucked up in my dream, like the other night when he was having an affair with some white trash bleached blond dumdum named Brandiiii and she drove a powder blue car and they can both go suck a dick–PREFERABLY IN SOMEONE ELSE’S DREAM THOUGH. So nothing he has been doing has been OK with me since 7AM and he just thrust a plated omelet at me and growled, “HERE, ASSHOLE” and it was a really good omelet too BUT I WON’T TELL HIM THAT.

I’m praise-walking on out of here. I hope your weekend is one big gospel celebration party!

Henry and I pretty much spent most of Saturday arguing. Or, if you ask Henry, I spent most of the day arguing. I can’t help it. Sometimes I just wake up in the mood to feud, you know?

At one point that afternoon, he fell asleep on my shoulder and I was really offended about this. I AM NO ONE’S PILLOW.

We were on the mend by later in the evening though. I guess. I had mostly forgiven him for taking too long in Target when he knew I was in the car waiting, and for not reading my psychic hunger pangs that were moaning, “BUYYYY ERINNNN A SNACKKKK” so then he went to Rite Aid and basically chucked a granola bar at my face. And then I bitched because it was apple cinnamon and I wasn’t in the MOOD for apple cinnamon.

But then I needed a distraction during the terrible Pens game that night, so I forced Henry to pretend like he liked me long enough for me to take stupid pictures using a photobooth app and he was like, “This is really dumb.” And it was pretty dumb. Especially when I was like, “NOW I’M GOING TO PRETEND TO TELL YOU A SECRET” and he was like, “That’s not my ear.”

I was mad at him again yesterday. Chooch had a 2-hour delay because of Winter, so I worked from home in the morning and then begged Henry to drive me to work once I pushed Chooch out the door for school, but Henry was all, “Work excuses, etc” so I had to walk in miserable snow and cold to the trolley stop and apparently the only people who use the trolley at 11am are cash paying motherfuckers so the trolley spent FOREVER at every stop while I was being pinned against the wall of the trolley by some bitch’s baby stroller. It was just awful, so I texted Henry and told him that I fell on my walk to the trolley because I wanted him to feel terrible.

He was all, “ARE YOU OK?!?!” and I waited a full hour before replying, “Not really.” I told him I hurt my hip, and then to make sure my bases were covered, I prepped Barb and Wendy just in case Henry decided to check in with them, which he sometimes threatens to do.

“Tell him that you saw me and I was dragging my leg behind me,” I urged Barb, who excitedly said, “OK BOSS! SURE BOSS!” because Barb loves deception.

And then today we were laughing because Henry was all concerned about my fake fall when he actually DID fall on Saturday. Did I tell you this story? No? WELL IT’S A GOOD ONE.

(It’s not that good.)

Henry got up early on Saturday to cheat on me, I mean, “to go to work for a little bit.” He thought the sidewalk was just wet from rain but it was FROZEN. So he slipped and fell on our sidewalk and came right back in the house and went back to bed. When we woke up later on, he very casually told me what happened, and then I proceeded to not give a fuck. Henry spent the rest of the day functioning like a normal person who hadn’t just bit it on ice, so it was easy for me to continue my streak of not being a concerned and sympathetic girlfriend. But then I’d jovially punch him, because that is how I show LOVE, and he would moan, “OW MY ELBOW. I HURT MY ELBOW WHEN I FELL.” And that’s all boo-hoo, so sad too bad, and whatever, but I think it’s awfully convenient that he just happened to “fall” on “ice” when he had a few pages of chores lined up for the weekend. I was pretty incensed about that. AND I DON’T MEAN THAT I STUNK OF NAG CHAMPA.

I never have any pity on him when he’s sick or gets hurt.  Remember when his co-worker ran over his foot with a pallet jack? No? Well, it happened and it was hilarious because he literally said nothing about it all day, until he came to pick me up from work that night, got out of the car and said, “I think my foot is broken, can you drive?” Fuck, people—if that had been my foot getting pancaked by a pallet jack, you best believe I’d have hollered about it from the hills of every last social media platform. 140 vulgar yells on Twitter. Pictures of the bruises and swelling on Instagram.  A vague and mysterious musing on Facebook to bait people into fishing for details. A whiny, TLDR blog post further martyring myself while turning off even more blog readers. A DIY tutorial for a rustic pallet jack murder weapon, with a mason jar holder and decorative Pom-Pom fringe, pinned on Pinterest. Yearly reshares of Timehop from that day, prefaced with “That time when I lost my foot in The War.” Sometimes Henry’ll wince all these years later when he steps down wrong and I’ll cry, “WHAT’S THE MATTER? PALLET FOOT?!” And he gets so mad.) So I kept manhandling him and making (un)reasonable demands of him all weekend, and finally he snapped and said, “YOU KNOW, THANK GOD I DIDN’T GET SERIOUSLY INJURED WHEN I FELL. I WOULD PROBABLY STILL BE LAYING OUT THERE BECAUSE YOU AND CHOOCH ARE USELESS.”

And then I couldn’t stop laughing while picturing him, lying prostrate and crippled on the sidewalk, with crows picking away at him. I’m sure Chooch and I would have discovered him eventually, once it was time for our first feeding.