After proving that Chooch & I can be trusted to make it through a day alone at Kennywood, we decided to try it again this summer too. SPOILER: we made it again!

So this was last Tuesday when this shining example of bravery of Big Kid Pants went down. I took the day off work so that Chooch and I could get one last totally excellent day out of the quickly waning summer, and it was beautiful. The weather, the company, the crowd-level—the whole day was just so fucking GOOD.

(Except for Henry not being able to make oh there, but whatevelyn–we persevered without his calloused hand to hold.)

(Sorry, Henry, but somehow Chooch and I seem to get along better when you’re not around — probably because we’re not fighting for your attention. Sigh.)

We elbowed and shoved past a gaggle of shambling elder-zombies who were bottle-necking the damn entrance. Like, run guys! IT’S KENNYWOOD! Ugh, I hate people who aren’t in a hurry.

The first ride we went on was the Phantom’s Revenge, where I was reminded by the amused yet moderately concerned looks given to me by the guys in front of us that I am a fucking fool on this coaster. I don’t know why I even bother riding it because it feels like a death wish every time! But then it pulls back to the station and I’m like, “FUCK YEAH, I’M SO GLAD I SUGGESTED THAT WE RIDE THIS!” And Chooch is like, “Cool let’s go on again!” and I’m like, “Maybe next year.”

We did end up going on it again later and I think I sincerely alarmed the mom and young girl in front of us. My mouth man, I can’t stop what comes out of it on some of these rides.

This kid was in front of for the Exterminator and I couldn’t imagine why his parents were yelling at him for swinging on the railings and being generally spastic until Chooch finally said, “I think he’s alone” and then we panicked that he would try to ride with us, like that time we got saddled with some weird little kid on Delgrosso’s version of the Exterminator who wasn’t tall enough to ride without an adult, but thank god the ride attendants sent him off alone in his own car, BON VOYAGE MOTHERFUCKER.

I love that Chooch is at an age where he too dislikes children.

Noah’s Ark brought the whale back and changed a bunch of the interior which is a huge improvement but I can barely remember what it used to be like, so yay!

Stoked to be in a whale’s mouth or to be behind that striped ass? Only Chooch knows.

One thing didn’t change though: Chooch and I were giddy as fuck up in that ark. How can you not be? God, dark rides are just the best. I wish I was in charge of Kennywood. I would put in at least two more. Maybe have someone recreate the old Castle Dracula from Wildwood and 100% rebuild La Cachot so we could have new generations of devious children calling it the Lick-a-Shit like they invented it.

OK new life goal: OWN A DAMN AMUSEMENT PARK.

Don’t fuckin’ judge me, Noah!

Then it was Turtle Time!

Some mom-type turned to me in line for the Turtles and asked, “Are you guys having fun?”

Wow, how nice, I thought. That this stranger-mom cared about our fun quotient.

But it turned out she mistook us to belong with the school group that was there on a field trip.

“WE’RE THE CHARTER BUS 16 GROUP FROM MRS. BLAHBLAH’S CLASS!” the chattiest of the children said to me, like it was some sort of BRAG or something. Like, cool story, IDGAF?

Meanwhile, the chaperone had completely turned her back on us once it was revealed that Chooch and I were just commoners and not part of some stupid field trip.

That kid kept talking to me and finally Chooch was like, “MOMMY STOP TRYING TO MAKE FRIENDS WITH KIDS OMG.”

Well sorry that no one my own age wanted to talk to me!

Seriously though, we get such a fucking kick out of the Turtle and if you ever wanted to see Chooch and me in our true forms, this would be a good time. We practically choke and gag on our laughter but then Chooch unfailingly gets too close to the opening of the turtle and I start screaming, “MOVE OVER! YOU’RE GOING TO FALL OUT!” and he’s like, “OH, OK ‘MOM'” and then we start cracking up again and that’s when we start to notice that no one else around us seems to be consumed by our level of hysteria, so what are they doing wrong!?

Oh Christ, I started to lose my voice before we even made it through the first hour. I’m a fucking hyena at these places.

Guys, oh guys, let me tell you a story about this little old ride called Enterprise. It looks like a Ferris wheel laying on its side but then it starts spinning and before you know it, you are upside down and nothing has you strapped down! I have always loved this ride and I think it’s because it’s one of the first grown-up rides I rode on my own as a child and I felt like such a fucking bad ass.

But this one time, pre-third grade, I was at Kennywood with my friend Kristen and her family. I do not remember a single other thing about this day except riding the Enterprise with Kristen, and as I exited the car, it swung back and caught me on the back of my heel.

And it fucking killed, man.

I vaguely remember not being very comfortable with Kristen’s family so I didn’t want to cry in front of them, so I tried to downplay it but I was bleeding through the back of my (ruffled) sock. They must not have deemed it necessary for a trip to the first aid shack, because I have a VIVID memory of going back to  my house in South Park and having to soak my socked foot in the bathtub because my sock had adhered to the exposed wound thanks to the CONGEALED BLOOD.

It took so long for that cut to heal too, because of its location.

Now this ride is called the Volcano and it’s almost always closed — apparently they were having a hard time finding a part that they needed to repair it? Maybe I dreamt that? I’m not the Kennywood Insider, for fuck’s sake.

When we saw that it was actually opened, Chooch cried, “OMG I finally get to ride it?!”

People around us in line are always so jealous of our glamour lives.

When we boarded our desired car, Chooch tensed up.

“This is it? We just….sit here? There isn’t a seatbelt or a harness or CHAINS TO HOLD US DOWN WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN.”

I tried to explain that it was science-y physics centifiblahblah something or other, oh just shut up and enjoy the ride, my child!

Oh man, even the WHIRRING SOUND of this damn thing takes me back to better days, when people were losing pocket change on the Flying Carpet and the Pirate Ship didn’t literally make me seasick.

Our day was off to a great start, and I know this because we made it AT LEAST three hours before calling Henry!

****

This is taking me so long to write, because if we’re being frank here, I AM STALLING. I know that technically the calendar says we have a few more weeks of summer, but let’s be real: summer is done. School’s back in session. This day was our last hurrah and as soon as I put it in words, that’s it–the last thread of summer is going to be yanked from my soul.

Ugh. I’ll be back with tales of Lemon Equality and JOHNNY’S SISTER OOH LA LA.

Even if there was only one band that I even remotely, slightly cared about on this year’s Warped Tour, I would still go and here’s why: there has never not been a time when I haven’t left there with at least one new band to love, or an old band to have newfound respect for.

If you like music at all, no matter what your age is, you could probably find at least one band that piqued your interest. Probably. I don’t know. (Even Henry usually likes one band, and that’s a guy who likes Ted Nugent, you know? If there’s hope for him there’s hope for all.) The festival is very well-rounded in that regard and if people hate on it, it’s probably because they’ve either reached that crotchety “THINGS WERE BETTER IN THE 90s” phase in their life, or they just have some preconceived notion that it’s literally a field overrun with feral scene kids and bros.

Please – my tolerance for kids is pretty non-existent so if I can float through an entire day on a cloud of bliss and ignorance, then you know it can’t be all that bad!

They don’t even make me feel old! And let’s be real, I’ll be 37 by the time I finally get off my ass and finish writing this idiotic post, so this isn’t exactly my demographic.

THAT BEING SAID, here are the bands I saw at this year’s Warped Tour. Bands that are in bold are the ones I have deemed worthy of expanding upon and you know how much I love expanding. Have you seen my waistline?

• In Heart’s Wake (If I hadn’t been going through a personal life crisis, I would have probably REALLY ENJOYED this set; these guys are on my radar now at least. But right now all I associate them with is Chooch literally pacing in circles begging me for my phone so he could play Pokemon Go and I JUST CAN’T WITH POKEMON GO.)
• Assuming We Survive (Chooch said he didn’t care about them but then inexplicably wanted to meet them until he saw the line)
• Real Friends (I got as far as waiting for them to come out before freaking out for the 2nd time that morning and walking toward the exit)
• I See Stars (some – I really want to like them more than I do; th)
• Ballyhoo! (some)
• Issues
• Knuckle Puck
• Bad Seed Rising
• Hail the Sun (Chooch fucking pissed me off and I ended up storming off because he kept trying to TALK TO ME while I was attempting to ENJOY A BAND THAT I LOVE. Rude. I was right in front of the stage too when I stormed off, ensuring that there were ample witnesses. But fuck, those two songs were tight as fuck, yo. I LOVE YOU HTS. I will see you in October with Dance Gavin Dance! Chooch, you’re lucky that I’ve seen them a million times.)

• Young Guns (they were playing in the background when I had another freak out and then Henry was all, “THAT’S IT WE’RE LEAVING FOR REAL THIS TIME, FUCK THIS NOISE” and Chooch and I were like “Haha, have fun leaving, we’re gonna go down here and wait for Emarosa” and then Henry was only bluffing anyway – we saw him hiding behind a thing.)
• Sykes (they were playing on the other side of the stage while we waited for Emarosa and I liked them just fine, but hurry up because Emarosa.)
• EMAROSA!!!!!!! (They got their own post.)
• Ghost Town (Chooch and Henry went to see coldrain during this. WHATEVER BITCHES.)
• Set It Off
• Oceans Ate Alaska (LOVE this band. They can melt my face any fucking day. Chooch and Henry ditched me during this because they can’t handle it.)

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• State Champs (I 100% do not remember watching their set but I have video and a picture….?? And I like State Champs too so this is completely confusing and terrifying all at once.)

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• With Confidence 
• Secrets (Henry fell asleep during them and they were pretty scream-y, so there goes Henry showing off his God-given talent of BLOCKING IT ALL OUT.
• Waterparks
• Chunk! No, Captain Chunk

Issues: I wouldn’t even say I’m a casual fan of Issues, because Tyler Carter has always kind of rubbed me the wrong way and I will forever associate him with Jonny Craig (like when they had a fight and Jonny demanded that Tyler remove the “4L” from his name because JONNY STARTED THAT?!) But everyone in the stupid Warped Tour videos I love to watch kept saying “OMG Issues is a can’t-miss this year” and I figured, nothing else was playing at that time, so why not give them a second chance. The only other time I’ve seen them was when they opened for Dance Gavin Dance in 2013 – so they’re actually the first band that Chooch has even seen live. He liked them then and now he REALLY LIKES THEM because they’re marketing geniuses and worked the Pokemon theme into their merch AND played that dumb Pokemon song when they first came out. One thing that you can say for certain about Issues is that they are genre-bending. They even have a quasi-country jam with some country singer who I don’t care about and Chooch really likes that song for some reason which concerns me because is this the GATEWAY INTO COUNTRY MUSIC FANDOM for him?! I can already see him pissing in the parking lot of a Kenny Chesney concert just to defy me and perfectly curated standards.

The only video I had of their set was through Snapchat so that shit is gone baby gone but here is a video for COMA which has been stuck in my head ever since and will probably go down in history as the one Issues song I actually REALLY LOVE, because I want to be all you think about, anything and everything you dream about. (Fuck, you got me. I like this song a lot too.)

Henry’s review: Eh, they weren’t…I don’t know. They just didn’t do it for me. They opened up good but then….I wouldn’t see them again.

(SOMEONE GET THIS DICK A JOB AT PITCHFORK.)

Knuckle Puck: in full pop-punk disclosure, I am what you would call a CASUAL FAN of this band. I know their album’s name is Copacetic because I love that word and would never forget something like that, but damn I couldn’t name one song for you. However, I have been wanting to see them live and we missed them at Bled Fest (we saw The Beautiful Gorgeous’s last show ever instead), so we clomped our way down into the pavilion and this is where Chooch kept talking to be able it French fries and I was like I DONT CARE DO WHAT YOU WANT so he had Henry go and get us French fries (US! He said he was going to SHARE them) and I stupidly assumed that Henry knew to get them with that weird cheese sauce that First Niagara Pavilion slings, but he came back with just ketchup and I was like WHAT KIND OF INJUSTICE ARE YOU SERVING ME RIGHT NOW? That just made me snap out again (the ground was made of egg shells at this point) and I left the two of them standing there, watching a band they couldn’t give a shit about.

See ya another time  when I’m not being a moody asshole, Knuckle Puck. :(

Henry’s review: We didn’t stay there very long, did we? I can’t remember when that was, so I can’t say yes or not.

(To be fair, he was off buying french fries that were all wrong.)

https://www.instagram.com/p/BIeNNIAAVPA/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

With Confidence: Oh man, I will be honest and say that I was only waiting for them because it was the closest stage to where we were standing and nothing else was happening during this time, but good god damn am I happy for this accident because they were fucking SWEETHEARTS! And also, FROM AUSTRALIA!!! God, I love Australian bands. I also love how many non-American bands were on Warped Tour this year.

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That guy wore a With Confidence shirt to a With Confidence show.

Henry’s review: Was that on the little stage? I”m trying to think what band that was.

Ghost Town: I saw them by myself because Henry and Chooch were somewhere else and I’m not their keeper so GO I DON’T CARE. Anyway, this band is so reminiscent of mid-2000s nu-emo, kind of like that wave of candy-coated quasi post-hardcore that rode the wave in with Pierce the Veil, the kind of bands with fluorescent merch and scene queens loitering by the bus after every show. I’d say this kind of music is my guilty pleasure, but I KNOW NO GUILT. I derive unabashed, wanton pleasure from synthy-scene jams. Plus, they have upright coffins on stage with them, so of course that caters to my interests.

They make me want to start living my life with a dramatic side-part and raccoon eyes again, you guys. Where did I put all of those old hair bows….

https://www.instagram.com/p/BIeNW83A_ms/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

Henry’s review: I would see them, yeah.

Set It Off: This was only my second time seeing them and I think they’re fun watch but if we’re being honest, there’s really only ONE SONG that I l-l-l-love and that’s The Haunting. So we wandered off right after they played that one and it’s fine because I’m not a true fan. I don’t make that diamond symbol with my hands like all the girls do.

We were there though when Cody launched into this full-fledged self-help motivational speech about reaching for the stars, etc blah blah, it’s never too late, don’t let anyone stop you, and Henry gave me multiple shoulder squeezes that translated into “Yeah, Erin, it’s never too late to make your dreams a reality!” and I was just like, “It is when you’re dead inside.”

Anyway, a few days later some girl tweeted that her two favorite singers sang together and it was CODY AND BRADLEY FROM EMAROSA?! So I asked her if she had a video and she sent it to me on Twitter it I don’t think I can save it and I am so pained. BUT FUCK YES I WAS ABLE TO EMBED IT HERE!!!  THANK YOU TWITTER USER RACHELBEE!! I have watched this so many times while making Pudding Face.

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Henry’s review: I don’t mind them. I would see them again….?

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These coppers were thoroughly enjoying all of Cody’s crotch grabs. So was Henry.

Bad Seed Rising: Oh shit you guys, I saw them accidentally after I ran away from Henry and Chooch while wearing my crown of Drama Queen thorns. I was planning on continuing my angry stomp across the grounds when I heard the singer unleash a gutteral scream and that’s when I realized it was this tiny girl. YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION. This was actually the only time all day that I almost got caught in the hardcore-dancing crossfire. I wish that I would have gotten punched because that could have been another thing for me to cry about that day. Boo hoo.

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And she can SANG too y’all. So picky with chicks, especially ones that think that they can scream, but this one got my seal of approval.

I’m secretly happy that Henry missed this because I got to say, “Man, you have no idea how amazing it was” at least 67 times so far and he acts like he doesn’t care but he cares.

Henry’s review—OH WAIT HAHAHA HE WASN’T THERE.

Waterparks: I wasn’t sure what to expect with these guys, because Alt Press seems to be hyping them in the same way they hyped 5SOS and I just can’t get behind that media-choreographed hysteria, you know? Waterparks opened for Never Shout Never last winter, but Chooch and I got there after they played. When we walked into Mr. Smalls, the singer flat out interrupted the girl who was talking to him just so he could tell Chooch he liked his hair (it was still kind of pink back then). So that’s a definite stand-out impression for me.

Guys, my preconceived notions about this band were incorrect! They were fun and entertaining, and the singer Awsten’s stage banter was hilarious and smart. Funnily enough, he had a weirdness about him that definitely reminded me of Christofer Drew from Never Shout Never. This is all to say that I fell in some serious like with Waterparks on this evening and I will be looking out for them to come back to Pittsburgh so that I can go see them, by myself probably,

I would ask Henry what he thought of them, but he slept through their whole entire set, so…..

(I posted this video on Chooch’s Instagram because I figured all of my friends are OVER IT by now, haha.)

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Chunk! No Captain Chunk: I feel like these guys got made fun of a lot when they were new, but now it seems like more people have accepted the fact that France has produced a pop-punk band. I personally enjoy them on a casual level, arms-length if you will, but for some reason Chooch was adamant that we watch them. This made Henry groan because they were the last band to play on the Cyclops stage, right as Warped Tour was winding down, which meant there was no chance of Henry escaping early like we have been able to do in past years when there were no bands left that we cared about.

Chooch’s favorite things about their set was when the singer would pronounce Pittsburgh like “PEETS-burgh” and the fact that they covered Smash Mouth’s “All Star” — I didn’t realize he was such a fan of that song?! Chooch was disappointed that I didn’t get a video it and I was like, “Why would I, though?”.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BH9qWt6jQfe/?taken-by=butt_jam

Henry’s review: Um…I didn’t mind them. I don’t know. I would see them again…?

Anyway, it was a nice FEEL-GOOD note to end Warped Tour on this year. Sorry I was such an asshole for the first half of the day.

And that wraps up this year’s edition of bands we saw at Warped Tour, some of us were clearly more into it than others. The line-up was exceptional this year and I wish I could have multiplied myself to be at every stage at the same time, except for when Falling In Reverse, Reel Big Fish, or Motionless In White were playing because I go out of my way to avoid those ones! (I don’t like supporting women-beaters, ska bands, or cheesy metal.)

I’m already counting down for next year! I could use a massive do-over and I’ll be sure not to answer my phone this time if it rings. Le sigh.

Wow, guys, wow. I came to work this morning and found a bunch of RIP Glenn party hats on my desk, courtesy of Gayle! I’m at once giddy and also sullen about this, because it means that she remembered my birthday (which is technically tomorrow but ain’t no one coming into the office on a Saturday to shower my desk with confetti).

This is BAD NEWS because that means I won’t get to have another year of monthly un-birthday presents, which was her self-administered penance for missing last year’s birthday. AND I LOVED EVERY MONTH OF IT! My June Unbirthday gifts were off the hook, the total mother lode. All sorts of costume jewelry and flowers even!

The flowers were pretty and made a large chunk of the department reek of a funeral home, so that was awesome too.

Amber 1 and Amber 2 modeling their RIP Glenn hats! I posted this on Instagram and my friend Stacey who does work here asked, “What happened to Glenn?!!?” so I had to explain that this is just what we call the dead celebrity Glenns that I make.

“I don’t know what’s more funny about this,” I said to Glenn. “That someone who just knows you based on The Internet is concerned that you’re dead, or the fact that if that was true, then this picture looks like we’re celebrating your death.”

Amber 2 was looking at all of the hats and said, “Oh, and here’s one with a cat” and I cut off to screech, “NOT JUST A RANDOM CAT, THAT’S MARCY, OMG!” Ugh, Amber.

(Obviously that’s the hat that I chose to wear….for a few minutes before my head started to ache because I don’t have a child-sized head.)

In other work news, the 4th edition of my dumb department ‘zine was distributed last night! I was on late shift last night and not feeling well at all (and the WebMD in my mind had me completely paranoid) so I was determined to get the ‘zine finished and copied before I left just in case I died last night.

Here are some excerpts because I know you’re dying to know:

In this edition of the ‘zine, Glenn is finally exposed as a furry.

And then at the last minute I realized I had one extra page and it was too late to harass someone into being interviewed by me, so I sucked it up and quickly typed  my own crappy list.

Oh! Gayle just got here with the rest of the presents (Glenn called her an obsessed fan) and at the bottom of the bag, there were extra pictures that she printed for the party hats, like of Chooch from Warped Tour. I got all excited because there was also an Emarosa picture, and Glenn  mumbled, “But they’re not dead…” because I guess he thought the theme of the hats was Dead Things.

“No Glenn, all of the pictures she printed for the hats are things that I like!” I sighed. And motioning to one of the RIP Glenn pictures, I said, “Like…pretending that you’re dead!” And everyone laughed but as soon as I said it, I was like, “Wow, that’s some dark ‘get HR on the horn’ type shit right there.” But no one seemed to care.

(Although he kind of had a point about the dead things theme because Gayle also gave me a coffee thermos thingie that she customized with a picture I took of my succulents, pre-cats, so yeah — most of those poor things are dead now.)

***

Just got back from lunch – with BARB!! Oh, and also Wendy, but whatever. I see her every day. We went to McCormick & Schmick’s which means I had to get a salad, but luckily that’s all I wanted anyway, so nice try.

Also, not that this is shocking to me, but I found out that BARB doesn’t like sourdough bread or portobello mushrooms (or maybe ALL mushrooms?! This is why she should let me interview her!).

Anyway, look what BARB got me for my birthday!!!

My chair is modeling this bitchin’ shirt splattered with all the best HORROR MOVIE BABES!! I especially can’t wait to show Chooch because the girl from Ju-On is on it and she’s his ABSOLUTE FAVORITE.

I told Todd I’m going to wear it to work on Monday and he was like, “Ok.”

Anyway, Jeannie joined us toward the end of lunch and we rolled our eyes together when Wendy started showing the waitress every picture of her baby that she has on her phone. I had to make Wendy get out of the booth so I could leave because hello, I’m just a low-ranking peasant around these parts and have to account for every minute of my workday.

Barb didn’t feel like getting up so made the waitress hug me for her and it was SO UNCOMFORTABLE because that lady gives robust hugs and I’m not a hugger.

Then I came back to work and did some stuff, and then 5 minutes ago, Last Mail walked by, noticed the Happy Birthday banner on my desk and jovially wished me a happy birthday TWICE followed closely by a “Have a great weekend” and Todd and Glenn were like, “Wow, just wow.”

SO ALL IN ALL, not a bad day-before-my-birthday. We’ll see how many ways Henry fucks up my actual birthday tomorrow though. HOO BOY can’t wait.

My mom had us over The House for dinner tonight and Corey surprised me with an early birthday cake, featuring the gorgeous face of PHIL COLLINS!

I seriously could have died. So goddamn perfect! And he apparently had to jump through many hoops to get it made too because Bethel Bakery’s Celebration Specialist is a stickler for obeying copyright laws. He read their email exchanges out loud to me and after going through the same snarky customer service ringer last year when ordering Chooch’s birthday cake, I’m seriously considering cutting ties with that place.

Chooch of course said he was bored in between every bite of food he took because this is how shitty his generation is: if there isn’t a phone or YOUTUBE or Xbox in sight, then OH WOE IS ME SO BORED NOTHING TO DO.

“Your problem is that you have no imagination because technology does it all for you!” I snapped. “When I was growing up here, I was never bored! I built FROG HOTELS.”

As my mom was rolling her eyes, Henry’s mom was all, “The fuck is a frog hotel?” So I had to explain how I’d take cardboard boxes together and cut doorways through them, and then fill them my Sweet Secret furniture before, obviously, filling them with frogs.

“I mean, the frogs would usually jump right out but it was fun,” I said as Henry shook his head. “And then there was the time my dad walked in on me in the garage, teaching a praying mantis how to count change.” At this point my mom looked seriously embarrassed to have birthed me and Henry’s mom incredulously asked, “How did you teach a praying mantis to count change?!” and I’m like, “Well Judy, exactly how it sounds? It sat there while I counted out a handful of change….?”

While everyone was offering varying opinions of the bug, like “they’re gross” or “they’re good luck” I continued to talk about my wonderful, imaginative childhood activities. “And don’t forget about the time I was banging rocks against the driveway in order to make eyeshadow out of the rock powder.”

“What the fuck, you would think you grew up in a shack in West Virginia,” Henry exclaimed. “Everything you did for fun was so primitive!”

“Erin, you know there’s a road right up there that takes you places,” Corey said, reminding me that while we grew up surrounded by woods, it wasn’t exactly the wilderness.

WHATEVER. I liked my childhood just fine, thanks.

And then Corey and Chooch played hide and seek in The House, after realizing that we never played hide and seek there when we were kids probably because our grandma and Sharon would have had a BIRD.

“So, it’s his birthday, then?” Judy said toward the end of the night, while we were discussing the cake.

That whole time she thought we were celebrating Phil Collins’ birthday and not mine.

Tonight was pretty awesome.

Much wow, this was Henry’s 8th Warped Tour (I think? I don’t feel like counting, but it’s less than my official tally that’s for sure because I’m more legit than he is). What this means is that he is basically a seasoned, grizzled pro at this point. Let’s ask him some questions about his long-term relationship with Warped Tour and if he plans on siring any illegitimate children out of wedlock with them, too. JUST LIKE HE DID WITH ME.

Do you plan on siring any illegitimate children out of wedlock with Warped Tour?

Say that again!? [WRITER REPEATS QUESTION.] I don’t know. Is that even possible?

There were several times when I went off on my own during the day. What did you and Chooch do that I missed?

We just walked around and got some Twix [they had a booth there] and Chooch spent some time in the water tent. We saw a little bit of Cold Rain but then he saw some vendor and then we ventured off. I don’t know, we just walked around and then he kept wanting a bucket hat. [There were some merch booths selling them because nothing screams POP PUNK like a bucket hat?]

Out of all the Warped Tours you’ve attended throughout the years, give us your top 3 worst moments.

Great, now I have to think. [He is seriously thinking about this too OMG. No wait, he’s watching something about the Kennedy assassination. No, he’s thinking again!]

#3. I don’t know what year it was, but having to listen to Katy Perry sing.

#2. Whatever year it was when it was 1000 degrees there and it was miserable. [I know what you’re thinking: Isn’t that every year?? But this one year it was actually so bad that someone died, I think, maybe.]

#1. Breakdown 2016. [You guys I think he’s referring to the 87 times I wanted to leave last week because I’m emotionally cracked.]

If you had a booth at Warped Tour, what would you be selling?

Individually-wrapped prunes. [LOL JUST KIDDING THAT WAS ME, THE WRITER, ANSWERING FOR HIM.]

Huh. What would I sell….[Literally, he has no imagination.] I don’t know. Let me think about that one.

[TWENTY MINUTES LATER] Your art, and meat products, because there’s way too much vegetarian shit there.

[Um, if he’s referring to the ONE tent that Peta2 has there, then yeah: SO MUCH.]

Kevin Lyman, the founder of Warped Tour, asks you personally for a list of bands to forever blacklist. I guess he feels an affinity to you because you’re both middle-aged with probably have the same amount of callouses. Anyway, what bands are on your list? GO HOGWILD, BOO.

Slaves

[Wow, this just in: Henry doesn’t care when disgusting, misogynistic bands like FALLING IN REVERSE and ATTILA play at Warped Tour, that’s why they didn’t make his list. Oh OK, privileged white male! Way to use your god-given Caucasian penis for good.]

It’s the morning after Warped Tour, i.e. DEAR DIARY TIME! What do you write on the back of the Faygo Red Pop label* about this year’s experience at Warped Tour?

I can’t have secrets and then tell you! [I won’t stop looking at him until he answers.]

When you look at me like that and start typing, it scares me. I don’t like your line of questioning. Too much thinking involved. Why can’t it just be yes or no answers. [Ew he just told me he doesn’t like my attitude?!]

*[That’s what I imagine Henry’s diary to be: a clump of Faygo bottle labels crumbled into a ball and punched under the mattress.]

OK fine, pretend like it’s a postcard that you’re sending Chris & Monica from the great bustling parking lot that is Warped Tour:

Is this a new question? Why would I write Chris and Monica a postcard?

[I’ll start it for you: DEAR CHRIS AND MONICA]

[I just asked Chooch the same question since Henry’s brain is creaking and smoking as he tries to think. Chooch would just write: ‘Sup.]

Dear Chris & Monica,

Having a great time, as always. [I think he’s sarcasming.]

Brought my A&D ointment which I have been applying liberally right around the TENDER AREAS inside my thighs. I wanted to wear booty shorts today but I had to wear regular-lengthed basic white man shorts on account of all the CHAFING. Thought we were going to leave early because Erin was being a psycho but then somehow we ended staying later than ever before, wtf guys. I got to eat an ice pop and it reminded me of the days when I was a paperboy except that it cost approximately $8 more. Um, I bought my work-husband the Masked Intruder CD not because I’m thoughtful or anything but because he is my dom.

[OK fine, I might have taken some liberties after the “having a great time” line because I was tired of him sitting here saying, “Um…..uh…..”]

You seem less irritated about having to chaperone Chooch and me than you have in earlier years. Can you confirm this is because you’re sufficiently dead inside, or do you secretly LIKE WARPED TOUR now?

I think it’s a little bit of both. I like some of it and I’m pretty much dead inside because of you and Chooch.

But you hated Bled Fest – why?

I didn’t hate Bled Fest I just didn’t like it. I never said I hated Bled Fest! It was just too hot—and it wasn’t my type of music!

[Let me translate this for you, because I’m well-versed in reading between Henry’s blue-collared lines: Not enough booty shorts.]

Talk about how you’re able to sleep every year through super loud, heavy bands (the lucky bands this year were Secrets and Waterparks):

I don’t know it’s just something I can do.

[WOW GET THIS MAN ON AMERICA’S GOT TALENT.]

If Warped Tour was around when you were a teenager, what bands would you have liked to see in the line-up that was probably printed in the PITTSBURGH PRESS along with the date that the tickets went on sale so you would know when to go to KAUFMANN’S at CENTURY III MALL to buy them. I’ll just go ahead and start you off with Ted Nugent:

1. TED NUGENT
2. Iron Maiden
3. Judas Priest
4. Probably ZZ Top
5. CCR
6. The Guess Who

[Wow.]

[ED.NOTE: Don’t post pictures of illustrated weeners on Facebook because you will be reported for it and it will be removed, even if it looks like a Simpsons’ weener.]

Speaking of weeners, last year, that ginger-fuckerbitch Jonny Craig got kicked off Warped Tour for flapping his weener at his merch girl. Would you rather have Jonny Craig’s weener flapped in your face at such a close proximity that it gets tangled up in your beard, or would you rather get caught flapping your own weener at Jeffree Star and have him paint it with his lipgloss line? You can be honest, I won’t tell anyone:

Really? You’re not going to tell anyone? Pfft. [He just mumbled “Boy, you’re having fun with this.”] Probably the latter because I don’t like Jonny Craig.

2016 highlight:

Bradley [from Emarosa] hugging Chooch [during their set. Don’t worry Henry, I’m here to beef up your answers].

ON THE REAL HENRY, like how giddy do you get when Bradley talks to us?

How WHAT? Giddy? I don’t. I don’t need to get giddy; I have you two that get giddy and quiet.

[Oh OH, Bradley is totally his #mce (Barb, that means Man Crush Everyday).]

In closing, what advice would you give another dad who is going to Warped Tour with his kids for the very first time? And don’t say “Drop them off”:

Well that was going to be my answer, drop them off. Since I can’t say that….um….bring lots of cash for merch and food. I don’t know what else….but I’m sure you do.

[Yeah, I do: FORGET ABOUT HAVING ANY AUTHORITY, OPINIONS, OR FEELINGS THAT DAY BECAUSE IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU, IT’S ABOUT YOUR KIDS, SO STEP OFF, DAD.]

Usually by the third day of a three day weekend, Henry, Chooch, and I are at each others throats. But I mean, that’s normal family talk, right? YOU LOVE ‘EM BUT YOU DON’T LIKE ‘EM.

Except that by some crazy act of god, we had an exceptionally peaceful day and actually, dare I say, ENJOYED each others company??

And this was all without the aid of roadside tent-purchased firecrackers!

How motherfucking un-American, I know.

We went to one of our favorite nature spots—Homewood Cemetery—and ran amok like morons (two of us, anyway), namedropped birds (one of us), and spent a good ten minutes enjoying the show a groundhog put on by peeking his adorable head out of a nearby hole (ALL OF US). So much nature and dead things!

Here are some photos.

Chooch serenaded his broken stick with a creepy rendition of Sarah McLachlan’s ASPCA-anthem “Angel.”

Surprisingly not pissing in the pond. “Looking for frogs” is their claim.

This shirt was one of my Gillcrest finds and I love it so much. Battle of the Network Stars ringer tee vibes all up on yo’ girl.

Reppin’ that Hotel Books sad boy scene. You know what they say about families that listen to emo together….

….they cry together?

He looks so put out as usual, but I’ll have you know Chooch and I entertained him right down to the individually-wrapped prunes on his cargo pockets. He only yelled at us and called us idiots about 29 times! A low number for one of our family outings.

Shit really got crunk (lol yeah I went back to 2003 and I’ll do it because I’m a blogging renegade) when Chooch found a rogue TENNIS BALL and we played CATCH in the CEMETERY and successfully intimidated some poor kid who was learning how to drive in mom’s SUV.

I think “playing catch” is something that people did before smartphones happened.

Our version of playing catch is more like imagining that Chooch is perched above a dunk tank.

Henry apparently “hurt his arm” from whaling the ball so hard at HIS LAST BORN SON.

I hurt my arm too, but my hurt happened the day before when we were doing YARDWORK at my pappap’s house and I used….wait for it…

….hedgeclippers for the very first time and wound up with a callous and arthritis.

I did it for like 45 minutes!

Which, if you ask Henry, is more like 20 minutes in Erin Time.

Even my mom was kind of like, “I can’t watch this” and went in the house.

After the cemetery (and after I nearly peed my pants because LOL PLAYING CATCH), we went to Millie’s for an ice cream cone lunch because that’s how we chose to celebrate the day, OK? Also, no cookouts to go to. We’re loners, Dottie.

I had pistachio rose and yogurt date — what a divine combo. It felt like a real mythical pairing, you know? Like I should have been straddling a Sphinx.

Chooch got CHOCOLATE AND VANILLA. God, his palate is so fucking pedestrian. I’m so embarrassed. What a piss-poor job I’ve done at parenting. Here’s my basic kid, World. All your intricate and sophisticated flavor profiles make him puke in his mouth.

We have to seat him by the nearest napkin dispenser everywhere we go. (SPEAKING OF NAPKIN DISPENSERS!!!)

Later that night, our GROWN ASS CHILD went to Dormont Park with Dimajio and his older sister to watch the fireworks. I was equally “WOOOO FREEDOM!’ and “OMG DO YOU THINK HE’S OK WITHOUT US?!”

I didn’t grow up as a city kid–I was allllll suburbs and sheltered, baby.  So it’s pretty interesting watching Chooch living that city kid life.

Anyway. That was how we chose to celebrate our 7/4 and it was hilariously perfect. Look at that, I guess sometimes I like these assholes, too.

Guyzzzzzz. Today is Henry’s birthday! But it’s just a random one (51) so I didn’t bother to do anything special. He can just re-read last year’s joint post where Chooch and I listed 50 things we like about the old man.

I’ll add one more for 51:

This morning, when Chooch pointed out that he had poison ivy on his ankle, I panicked and yelled, “WELL WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO!?” He calmly said, “Nothing. I already took care of it.” You know why? Because HENRY taught him how to take care of himself! Love that about him.

You know what would be amazing? If everyone texted Henry today. He broke his phone and has been downgraded to some early-2000s flip phone thing which makes reading texts extremely difficult. Now that he’s FIFTY-FIVE, he probably needs to exercise those eyeballs even more: 412-605-2143.

*SUCH AN UNDERRATED WORD. There was an episode of Battle of the Network Stars in the 70s where some broad says, “What’s all the hullabaloo?” like eight times in a row and no one bats a lash because it was OK to use that word back then. Let’s bring it back. I’ll make pins. You write the song.

We didn’t have a grand scale birthday party for Chooch this year on account of us having to sell copper from abandoned houses* to take him to Disney World. But I wanted to still have a small cake-eating get-together at our house when we came back because cake. And also, friends. We just like company. (And by “we” I mean me and Chooch.)

*(THAT WAS A JOKE. Always gotta clarify since this dumb blog/hyperbole has gotten me into real life trouble so many times. God forbid I jest!)

I left the cake up to Henry and Chooch and they chose ice cream cake from Dairy Queen which is OK but I really wanted Bethel Bakery cake, ugh. Ice cream just doesn’t do it for me.

And this is clearly all about me. Me and my 10 year old C-section scar!!!!

The guest list was diverse and basically perfect because it was curated by me:

• Kara and Harland
• Henry’s mom, Judy
• Henry’s sister, Kelly
• Chooch’s cousin, Zac
• Chooch’s friends, Olivia and Sophia, and their mom Meggan (who has become my first ever mom-friend! And you guys thought I was forever tainted!)
• Wendy and Summer
• Robbie and Nikki
• Blake and Hailey
• Shawn, Jess, and Anais

Henry totally lost control of his wallet and bought COOKIES in addition to the cake. DISCOUNT GROCERY STORE COOKIES! In the background, please note that somehow Ted NUDEgent is still alive!

As soon as Blake got there, I told him about Henry getting BULLIED at work and Henry was so embarrassed. He should take Blake to work with him once and then I bet that son-of-a-bitchin’ salesman will think twice the next time he tells Henry he can’t wait to see him get fired!

(I wish he would bring me to work with him, though. I’m fucking ITCHING to start a fight with this guy. I found him on Facebook and I can tell that he’s totally the type of guy who’d hit a girl too. BRING IT.)

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The only candle we had in the house, inexplicably, was a lone “N.” It got the job done, though.

Did I mention that Megan brought me a present, too?! A cute little ornamental frog to guard over my succulents.

I love it!

This is the only picture I got of my kid during the entire party. He was busy, I guess.

BUSY GETTING HIS ASS KICKED OUTSIDE BY BLAKE!

At one point, it was getting so rowdy outside that Kara slowly leaned forward on the couch to peek out the front door. “Someone is going to get hurt any minute now, mark my words,” she said in that OH WELL tone that most moms store on the tip of their tongues. Literally 10 seconds later, Chooch came into the house with his hand over his mouth, and proudly exclaimed, “Blake made my mouth bleed!” He did some rinsing in the bathroom and then went right back out for more.

My favorite was that he was getting beat up by Harland, too.

Can’t say you don’t deserve that, boy! Nothing like a good old birthday beatin’.

Judy was flat out pissed at Kara for not bringing her youngest son, Theo, but then Wendy arrived with baby Summer and all was right in Judy’s world again. I wasn’t there when it happened, but Henry said Judy basically dropped everything she had in her hands and rushed over to steal Summer. She is A BABY INHALER.

Summer likes my house because of all the clowns, obviously.

I’m going to get her a clown for every holiday.

In this picture, Kara was talking about how much she wants another baby and Wendy was like, “Great, but you ain’t taking mine.”

Shawn brought up the very storied Gallaghers and we had a grand time regaling Judy and Jess with all their scandalous ways, like when Melissa Gallagher had a baby without knowing she was pregnant and her husband Mike thought she just had eels in her belly. Kara was like, “Please, let’s have a reunion with all the people you used to invite over from 2006-2008, like Ryan ‘OMG I LOVE JOHN WATERS, BALTIMORE, BALTIMORE, DIVINE!’ from LiveJournal; the Gallaghers; and Regan and Lance, the tax-evading Civil War reenactors who come complete with their own bench on which to sit and judge everyone.”

Those were some weird times, socially, for me. Sorry to all of my friends for making you endure such rude and infuriating people!

I failed miserably and taking pictures. I was distracted by hockey and all the good conversation. JANET JACKSON IS HAVING A BABY! FREE CONDOMS! ROLLING ROCK TOWN FAIR!

And then Chooch left his own party before it was over! He decided he was going to sleep over Zac’s so he left with them and then the rest of just there and talked completely shit on him. Chris and Monica texted me around 10:30 because they were going to stop by on their way back from their prior engagement (I’M SO FORMAL), but I was like, “He’s not here anymore.” And Monica was all, “Even better!” because she and Chooch are intense frenemies, but then Chris was like, “No Chooch, no Chronica!”

On the real though, it was a nice evening of celebrating my kid’s monumental cross-over into double-digits. Thanks to everyone who came or was there in spirit!

Chooch made me some sort of Mothers Day packet at school & these are the highlights — don’t ask me why he calls me Mumsy because I haveno idea but it cracks me up every time!

MY FUCKING HEART. The fact that he started expressing an interest to go to concerts at a young age (six!) made me feel like I was winning the Mom’ing game. That’s one of my greatest sources of joy and the fact that I have been able to share that with him over these last four years has been so rewarding and mind-blowing. There’s nothing better than looking over and seeing him feeling the same shit I am while our favorite bands are on stage, or ever better — watching his face change as he sees a band he’s never heard before and realizes that he’s into it and then yells to me, “WE GOTTA GO TO THEIR MERCH TABLE!”

I’ve successfully grown a mini Erin Rachelle. We may not look like (as I’m told constantly) but there is no denying he’s mine. 

Creepy places! Like cemeteries, haunted houses, giant Mary statues in the middle of nowhere, and the Lizzie Borden Bed & Breakfast! However, I think he felt obligated to toss in that “you take care of me” line because we all know Henry does that for both of us. 

Happy Mothers Day to all you bad ass broads there, single dads doing it all (this is almost Henry when you think about it), and pet-moms too! I always got so mad pre-Chooch because Henry would never give me a card on behalf of the cats. Fuck you, Henry. 

Being a mom is pretty great…except when it’s not. Like when your kid abandons you on Mothers Day!!!! (He slept over his cousin’s last night, and I don’t know why I’m sad about this because it’s not like he was going to wake me up with breakfast and fanfare.)

Enjoy your days, you guys! I’m going to buy succulents. And the cats can’t stop me. 

I got my hands on some old photo albums yesterday and some of them are filled with photos I’ve never seen before, like these EASTER BUNNY PHOTOS. Clearly, I’ve always had a soft spot for him/her.

I wish the Easter bunny at the local malls still looked like these ones!

GAH I JUST WANT TO HUG ALL THREE OF THESE FLOPPY-EARED FUCKERS!

I love how someone clearly didn’t like what I was wearing in one of these and took me back for a do-over after a wardrobe change.

In other news, I’ve only eaten bread and a sundae from Sarris in the last two days*, and I’m running on about 3 hours of sleep right now.

Ask me difficult questions!

*Lies. I also ate the mini KitKat that Glenn chucked at me earlier this morning. That’s how I know HE CARES.

We’ll be spending the day driving home from Lancaster and then watching The Walking Dead. I hope whatever you do today, it’s delightful!

Just don’t eat too many jellybeans. It might seem delightful in the moment, but nope. Don’t do it, my little bunnies.  

For a day that’s supposed to be steeped in calendar-dictated synthetic love and bacon-flavored sentiments on beds of rose petals (isn’t that what you young couples do these days? Wrap everything in bacon?), my house was popping off with explosive attitudes and screeching histrionics. I was still half-sick and miserable; Chooch was code orange whiny—and if we’re being frank, probably feeding off of my irritability;  and Henry was just tired of taking the brunt of it.

So, no gluten-free, lavender-infused, edible-gold-sprinkled, heart-shaped Pinterest-approved pancakes for us. :(

It was starting to look like Chooch and I weren’t going to the Never Shout Never shout that night after all. My only saving grace was that he hated me slightly less than Henry.

(Henry committed some heinous slight against him that evening, didn’t make him a King’s banquet for dinner, and then when Chooch whined about wanting more, different food, Henry started yelling about how he’s not a restaurant and he’s tired of making separate meals for everyone and then I got involved by yelling, “Well fuck me for being ethically against eating meat!” and the night just went south from there because it’s all about Henry. Henry Henry Henry!)

The only thing we had in common with Valentines Day was the color red we were all seeing.

But we managed to compose ourselves and push in our devil horns long enough to get in the car and have our chauffeur drive us to Mr. Small’s, where we were magically transformed into MOTHERFUCKING SWEETHEARTS.

This could only mean one thing.

HENRY is the catalyst. Henry, you reactant! Henry, you motherfucker. 

As soon as Chooch and I walked into Mr. Small’s, one of the guys from the opening band, Waterparks, interrupted his conversation with some young fan girl to say to Chooch, “Hey, I like your hair!” Chooch just casually shrugged, like, “Yeah, of course you do.”

Duh.

I wish I was more like Chooch. Instead of cooly brisking past, I was choking on my tongue in an attempt to thank the kind boy on Chooch’s behalf.

We purposely arrived two hours after doors. I rarely miss the opening bands, and I think it’s so important to support them, especially the ones that are local. But I have to consider that my nine-year-old has a low threshold for standing in one room. So, we missed Waterparks and Get the Picture (sorry, guys) but arrived just in time for JuleVera, whom I was really looking forward to after missing them at Warped Tour due to conflicting set times.

Their singer Ansley is only 18 years old. So young! And as soon as she started singing, Chooch looked at me with ruddy cheeks and this big goofy grin that I recognized as his I’M IN LUFFFFFFF AND CANT FIGHT IT HELP I’M DYING face of anguish.

“We have to go to their merch table after they’re done!” he hissed.

Guys, I didn’t expect to like them as much as I did, but they sounded great, and any young band that can spend three minutes between songs doing a drum and guitar solo without coming off as douchey or losing the interest of the crowd has genuine talent.

Chooch declared that this is his new favorite band and I’ll co-sign that.

As soon as their last song ended, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me over to their merch table, quickly, before the line gets too long!

Sadly, most people there were more interested in the dregs of the music scene, namely Metro Station who were up next. So not many people rushed to the merch tables.

I was super proud when Chooch passed up the row of CDs and pointed to the vinyl, which I happily purchased for him. CHOOCH IS AMAZING. THE NIGHT IS AMAZING. EVERYTHING IS AMAZING WHEN HENRY ISNT THERE!

Lol sike. But seriously, Chooch and I generally get along much better when. Henry isn’t in the temperament equation.

Right after I paid the top-knotted merch girl for the record, Ansley walked over. Begin obligatory awkward transmission of the night.

She seemed shy, he was definitely shy, and I was shoe-horned into an uncomfortable position of being Son’s Mouthpiece. So I quickly said it was our first time seeing them.

“Oh cool! Did you like it?” she asked Chooch directly.

“#^*^^+£[#^@&$” he gurgled with a nod. Then I quickly took their picture and whisked him away before we could fall any further into social peril.

LOOK HOW RED HIS CHEEKS ARE!

We went back into the main area afterward and scored a decent spot in a sparsely populated area by the bar barrier, and I was thankful to sit down on the floor with my back against a wall, because I had the day-after-food-poisoning weakness. Chooch smiled deliriously at his record for awhile and then eventually, Metro Station came on.

I try really hard not to flat out hate a band, but my feelings for Metro Station come very close to simulating bricks of ultra-negativity being hurled through glass walls. OK I hate them. They were pretty popular in what, 2007 or something? Because Miley Cyrus’s brother is in it? And they had one catchy song called “Shake” that made all the Radio Disney kids feel like rebels for listening to what they were told was “punk” music?

Then they went away and it was wonderful! Five Metro Stationless years!

And now they’re back. And disgusting. Honestly, they sound like mediocre karaoke at the corner bar. But they have BRIGHT STAGE LIGHTS  and TRACE CYRUS!

That’s MILEY’S BROTHER Y’ALL.

He took his shirt off at one point and all the girls screamed their panties right off their bodies and onto the stage, and I was just left standing there in a stupor, like “Ew, why?”

And when they lovingly name-dropped their homeboys in Attila and Falling In Reverse, I was ready to go home and start my own Pittsburgh chapter of Girls Against Misogynistic Bands.

Get the fuck out of my face with your Ronnie Radke shout-outs.

Total lowpoint of the night. And they didn’t really match the vibe of Never Shout Never anyway, so why. Even Chooch was cringing.

Turnover playing over the sound system while Metro Station’s fecal residue was being scrubbed off the stage. I actually cried out, “Ooh, it’s Turnover!” and I doubt anyone cared.  Chooch definitely didn’t.

The singer of dumb Metro Station walked past us and I was really angry to note that he had a CURE PATCH on the back of his dumb black denim shirt. Robert Smith’s face does not belong on such filth.

Never Shout Never took the stage at 10 and the night vastly improved. Chooch’s excitement was contagious. Every time Christofer would describe the next song, Chooch would quickly shout out what it was going to be and he was so happy the one time that I got it wrong, because he’s Mini Erin, and that’s something I too would gloat about.

At one point, Chris mentioned that he had been eating “marijuana-infused honey from Denver” all day, and what he really needed right then was a cup of red wine, half wine half gingerale, and someone should be awesome and get that for him. Chooch was like, “MOMMY! DO IT!!!” I mean, we were standing right on the other side of the bar so I could have easily turned around and snapped my fingers, but I figured 20 other broads were well on their way back to the stage with his wine…

Also, I’m such a great mom for exposing my 4th grader to this shit.

After another song, Chris said, “So…where’s that wine?” because no one had actually gone through with it so then I was like OMG SHOULD I BE THE ONE!? SHOULD I DO IT!? but by the time my mind worked out 87 different variations of how this scene could play out, some dude had climbed onto the stage and handed him a cup, courtesy of some chick who is probably still Snapchatting about her 10 seconds of recognition.

It would have been pretty hilarious to send Chooch up with it, though.

Ugh. Missed opportunity!

Anyway, they played one of my favorites, “On the Brightside” and I was so glad!

And Chooch kept screaming “Red Balloon!” and then when they finally played it, he smirked at me, like “See what I did?” Sure Chooch, whatever. He was stoked when a menagerie of balloons was released from a net in the balcony. Kids and balloons, amirite?

We moved closer toward the end of the show, once I was confident that I could stand without leaning back on something sturdy and we realized that there was an empty pocket near the left side of the stage.

Being there made me think of all the shows I’ve seen in that place, and how fucking fantastic it is that now Chooch is seeing shows at this exact same venue. This night was pure magic. (With the exception of Metro Station, ugh! That part was fucking voodoo.)

I left Chooch alone during the encore so I could buy him a shirt before the merch table was swarmed with people. The merch guy told me that Chris wasn’t going to be coming out after, and that he already had done a meet and greet before the show, so part of me was sad for Chooch, but super stoked for myself because all I could think about was RESTING MY WEARY BONES IN MY BED.

“Oh well, at least I’ve already met him once,” Chooch shrugged, content with his JuleVera experience and just an overall night of beautiful music (and 30 minutes of garbage cacophony).
  

***

On the way home from the show, I was angrily retelling the horror story of Metro Station to Henry.

“One of their songs was literally just them yelling ‘she likes girls girls girls,'” I seethed.

“Oh, I thought they were saying ghosts. ‘She likes ghosts ghosts ghosts….'” Chooch piped up from the backseat.

You’re giving them way too much credit, buddy.

You know how some people can be together for a decade+ and still want to swathe themselves in sequins and put on matching UNDERGARMENTS for Valentines Day? Henry and I are not that couple. In fact, I can’t remember the last time Henry wore sequins. :( So I don’t even stress over February 14th anymore. Especially after I baked him a cake one year and painted him an adorable ode to our polarizing feelings on music festivals, and he never does anything for me. NOT BITTER. Not even a little bit.

This year, my Valentine is Chooch, and we’re spending it with Never Shout Never at Mr. Small’s.

But then yesterday, Chooch ended up having his own pre-Valentines play date, so Henry was like, “Well, do you want to go to dinner or something?” SUCH ROMANCE!!

I decided that since this was the best he was going to do in the Valentine department, that we should go to Zenith since it’s my favorite and he never wants to go because he has it in his head that it’s a breeding ground for “pale, peaked* vegan hipsters.”

*(Pee-kid, not peeked—don’t get it twisted!)

His exact words. I have rarely encountered this human subset at Zenith, but full disclosure — I’ve never been there for their Sunday brunch so for all I know, that’s when all the vampire-complected Bon Iver fans come out to play, half-decapitated on their infinity scarves.

It’s almost as though I majored in Stereotyping.

We got there sometime after 5 because we’re nearly at earl-bird status, and I was smug to point out that there were only three other tables of patrons there, and none of them were boasting any offensive air of pretension about them.

One Man, Four Cups.

I’m not a big tea-drinker, but one of the things I always have to do at Zenith is order from their extensive tea menu. It’s part of the process! Kara will tell you. She knows. If I had spent half the time studying textbooks as I do that fucking tea menu…well, I’d still be in the same position I’m in now. Never mind. I forgot that I didn’t get far in life because of a different kind of stupidity. Hahahaha. Oh god.

I was torn between the Earl Grey Lavender and Maple Vanilla, so I asked the waitress for her opinion. She got all stressed out and called over to the proprietor, Elaine, for help.

“I don’t do anything lavender,” Elaine brusquely called over, scrunching up her nose. “So yeah, Maple Vanilla.” Elaine is my homegirl so I went with her choice, and it was a smart one because I’m currently chugging my Sunday morning coffee and crying that there’s no maple.

Elaine brought the pot over to our table. “Now, don’t pour this right away,” she said. “I mean it! I tell people all the time that it’s not ready, and then I go back in the kitchen and I can SEE them pouring it! I’m like, it’s gonna taste like crap!” God, I fucking love her.

OMG it’s a salad. You’ve never seen a salad before. Henry had to finish mine because I’m really picky with salads.

“Look at those lamps back there,” Henry casually pointed out, and I gave myself whiplash in my attempt to beat all of the invisible people around us in a race to see it first. Up in the corner, there were two majestic holy lamps dangling like carrots, begging me to buy them.

“YOU HAVE TO ASK HOW MUCH THEY ARE!” I cried, to which Henry responded with his patented “get real” smirk. I mean, why else would he point these out to me if he didn’t secretly desire to furnish our home with them!?

“I bet they’re $100 a piece,” he quietly guessed, before stabbing the rest of my salad with his fork.

“Well, you could be wrong!” I frantically said. “I thought that our wheelchair was going to be $500 and it was only $40!”

“Why would you think that wheelchair was FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS?” Henry asked in disbelief. Because I’m an idiot, OK? Is that what you want to hear?! The value of the dollar confuses me.

Meanwhile, on Facebook, Kara was 100% encouraging this purchase. It’s a wonder that Henry hasn’t tried to get me to stop being friends with Kara yet. (Jokes: No man controls my life.)

Our waitress reported back that the lamps were $80 for one, $150 for the pair. Henry thanked her and kept shoveling food in his mouth without giving me a definitive answer and I was losing my mind.

I was annoyed that Henry ordered the Moroccan stew, because that’s what I ordered and I wanted him to get the seitan so we could share. He’s so fucking selfish. He apparently didn’t “feel like seitan and asparagus” on this night. At least he ordered a different kind of vegan cake though, so we could share the chocolate blueberry and strawberry almond. Seriously, there are times when I consider stopping by just for tea and cake. Their actual food is always good, but those cakes. Those goddamn cakes.

Maybe I should have my birthday party there this year.

Meanwhile, guess whose puppy-dog eyes won the war of the majestic holy lamps!? I think once I cried, “IT CAN BE THE FIRST FUCKING VALENTINES DAY PRESENT YOU’VE GIVEN ME IN 10 YEARS,” he was overcome with guilt and decided that $80 was a small price to pay for an evening free of me pouting, slamming doors, and breaking glass objects.

So this guy came out with his ladder and Henry was all upset  because he didn’t want the man to have to do this during dinner hours and kept saying, “I’ll just tell him we can come back for it” but I was like, “You shut your face, he looks very happy to be shoving tables out of the way and untangling wires.”

(He kind of didn’t.)

But I needed to leave with that lamp that night. I had already imprinted with it.

“Where the fuck are we even going to put this?” Henry asked, the regret of pointing the lamps out in the first place rising up in his eyes like mercury in a thermometer.

“In our bedroom, duh.” It’ll be the perfect complement to the crucifix collection I’m starting on the wall behind our bed. Sometimes he just doesn’t think.

Here’s Henry acting like a Big Help by doing nothing more than standing with arms akimbo.

“Now you screwed us all up!” Elaine joked, standing by the kitchen door as Henry walked back to the table with one of the lamps. Now they had to find another lamp for that corner. But that’s what happens when everything in your restaurant is for sale, I guess! Anyway, they said it’s from Woolslayer in Bloomfield, whatever that means.

My favorite part of Zenith has always been the post-meal store perusing. This was way less fun with Henry. He wouldn’t try any of the vintage dresses on for me like Kara does. :(

On again, off again.

I don’t think there has ever been a time I visited Zenith and left without taking a picture in this bathroom.

There were other things that I wanted to buy but Henry had that steely look of DON’T EVEN etched all along his weathered face, so I just figured that I’ll wait for the next time I’m there with Kara.

“You should have bought them both,” I said on the way home, knowing as soon as the words came out of my mouth that it was going to stir the pot in a big way.

“You’re never happy!” Henry cried. “You get one, you want two. If you got two, you’d want three!”

He’s not wrong.

****

I started writing this post last night, but then I was interrupted by an evening of violent vomiting. Henry thinks it was food poisoning since I woke up feeling fine; not food poisoning from Zenith though, because we both ate the same things. “It’s probably whatever you had for lunch,” he suggested with a tinge of accusation in his tone. This is a strong possibility, considering I made my own lunch and god only knows what goes on when I step into a kitchen.

However, what I think actually happened is that I brought something home with that lamp, some type of holy spirit, and it literally was exorcising me last night. Thank you, lamp. I feel less demonic than usual today.

HELLO FROM 2016! I hope everyone had a wonderful and safe New Year’s Eve! Ours was low-key because I just can’t care about this particular holiday and usually I wind up with some awful end-of-the-year stomach bug so I associate NYE with toilet-hugging along with pretty much everyone else, except that I don’t have any amazing party stories to tell afterward.  Luckily, I wasn’t sick for this one, so Janna came over. The night before, she asked me what she could bring and I said “Your sports bra, because we’re going to be kpopping.” She was like “Lol OK” and I was like BUT I’M SERIOUS?!

Anyway, we watched the Pens game (we won!) and then, true to my word, I made her and Chooch do some of my favorite KpopX routines.

Henry yelling at Chooch.

Chooch making the face I hate.

Um…then we watched our least favorite YouTuber Gracie (of #cookiepizza fame) open her Christmas presents, which she would then fling to the side because she is a fucking spoiled brat. Seriously, I just can’t with that family. I mean, I’m sure I would have a gigantic head too if toy companies were just sending me boxes of things for no reason other than I somehow have amassed 500,000 YouTube subscribers for WHAT?

I’m not sure I would ever be comfortable with that.

Then we had animal mask fun!
  

I had to make Henry disinfect all of the masks first because Chooch and some of the neighbor kids have been wearing them and no just no.

It was a nice, casual, stress-free way to end a year that I didn’t hate. In fact, if Marcy hadn’t died in 2015, I might have actually been able to say that it was an almost-perfect year. But, as it is, 2015 will forever be branded in my mind as The Year We Lost Marcy. I’ll never get over it, and that’s OK.

Let’s focus on the good!

• Wendy had a baby!!
• SO.MANY.SHOWS. I promised myself that if I ever got to go back to working normal, daylight hours, I would make up for lost time by going to as many shows as possible. There were a lot that I went to this past year that I was only moderately interested in, but I still went because I COULD. What a liberating feeling. And there were many that I went to alone, which an older version of me never would have considered. But let me share with you a story of DELUXE REGRET that forever changed how I feel about saying, “I’ll just go see them next time.” It was the year 2012 and there was a little singer known as THE WEEKND who I was apeshit crazy for. He was playing a show at Mr. Small’s on a Monday night, but it was a late show and Henry didn’t want to go. The idea of going alone never occurred to me, so I passed on it, figuring I would catch him the next time he was in town. You probably know that The Weeknd practically blew up sometime after that and never again will I have the chance to see him perform in a small venue like Mr. Small’s. I blew it. So yeah, out of all the shows I went to in 2015, I think about 7 of them I went to alone. No regrets.
  • Off the top of my head, my favorites were the Kurt Travis house show, Emarosa acoustic, RIOT FEST.
    • Seriously, I will never be able to explain how many feels I have for Riot Fest. MY HEART IS IN CHICAGO.
• Our summer vacation and finally meeting Octavia!
• CHRONICA2015!!!
• Taking these pictures of Henry & Chooch. <3
• Reconnecting with my old friend Alisha, even though she lives in Arkansas now. :(
• Memorializing Marcy with friends and in ink. I’ll miss her forever, but these two things helped a lot.
• Oh my god, this whole entire thing with Bradley of Emarosa. I still think about it and get all flustered. This band is my everything.

I don’t really have any resolutions for 2016, but I do know that I would like things to continue moving along as they have been. I plan to fill 2016 with more music, more parties, and more poorly-planned vacations with my BAES, Henry and Chooch. I just want to have fun, become a KpopX instructor, and be happy. AND I HOPE THAT YOU WILL HAVE FUN AND BE HAPPY TOO! (Becoming a KpopX instructor is optional.)

Oh, and I want to go to Bledfest. Henry promised. That was my Xmas present: a promise for Bledfest.

Chooch got his main present before Christmas (that bed thing), and while he was over the moon* about it, I was still worried about actual Christmas Day, in terms of “shit for him to open.”

*(Oh my god, what an old lady thing to say.)

He still had one more decent present left (a TV for his room), and several little things like CDs, a Five Nights At Freddy’s backpack from Hot Topic, and a Bluetooth speaker so that he can listen to Spotify in his room. So like, not super junky presents by any means, but I would have been breaking the good China over my mom’s face if there were any less than 30 gifts under the tree for me when I was a kid.

I WAS SPOILED, OK? I’m (mostly) reformed now so I have no problem admitting this.

Creepy-ass face, ugh.

But shit, you guys. Turns out my kid is actually pretty grateful. He seemed extremely appreciative of all the stuff, even the lame crap Henry picked out, and didn’t once peer under Trudy’s sweater and spit, “IS THAT ALL!?”

Not that I ever did that.

My family’s Christmas tree didn’t wear a sweater.

I’m not going to lie, I was really excited for him to open one present in particular:

I couldn’t resist wrapping up Doll! However, children are now born with a firm grasp on Reverse Psychology, so he has been acting like he and Doll are BFFs lately, but that will not deter me. I know deep down, he is still sickened by her charred face.

As evidenced when he tossed his backpack on top of her a few minutes later and mumbled, “I can’t look at your face anymore, Doll.” So the new plan is to stall my mission for a little bit until he starts to forget, and then BAM.

DOLL STRIKES AGAIN.

Thank god he has a good sense of humor, because he was just as excited to read the gift tags as he was opening the actual present. Since he doesn’t believe in Santa anymore, I get great joy out of making up random people for the “from” part of the gift tags.

It’s always an inside joke, too, and he thinks it’s so hilarious.

(OK SO DO I.)

For example, his TV was from Paul Eugene, the gospel aerobics instructor. And Donna gifted him Doll. He even got something from NHL player Shane Doan, an inside joke we share from the first hockey game I took Chooch to last year. Henry kept saying he didn’t get it and Chooch and I were like, “NO SHIT BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T THERE.” God, go back to ‘Nam, Henry.

Circa Survive, ya’ll. My kid has good taste in music.

In his stocking, he got a ticket for the Never Shout Never show on Valentine’s Day and several scratch offs, on which he won $30 — I never win on scratch offs!  Chooch is a huge lottery fanatic, so he was definitely not hating this Christmas.

Then Henry set up his TV, which comes with Roku, so basically we never see him anymore.

I honestly didn’t even know what else to get him, anyway. He’s at that weird age where he doesn’t play with toys anymore (RIP Imaginex sets) and I didn’t even see any board games that looked exciting when we were at Target. (And by “exciting” I mean “something that I could play without losing my temper”.)

“All I need is love,” Chooch said in a perfect Shirley Temple, and we all started cracking the fuck up.

Later on in the evening, we went to my dad’s house. Henry brought a carrot pecan pie he had baked that day and I brought a bottle of spiced wine. My dad and brothers had already eaten, so Henry and I just kind of sat there with growling stomachs, uncomfortably watching an Impractical Jokers marathon with my dad and brother Ryan.

Until Corey came barreling down the steps and asked, “IS THIS THE PIE!?” And then thankfully declared he was having a piece so then I had a piece too and it was better than any pumpkin or sweet potato pie I’ve ever had, tell that to that guy who thinks Patti Labelle’s shitty Walmart sweet potato pie is the greatest.

Because it ain’t got SHIT on Henry’s carrot pie, bitches.

Go cry to your mama about it.

Anyway, yes, that is how awkward and not-belonging I feel in my own dad’s house, that I don’t even feel like I can help myself to my own pie without Corey doing it first.

I guess when you only see your dad once or twice a year, that’s just how it goes.

Some visits are way better than others though, and we’ll tell stories and crack up. But this time, it just felt off and only reenforced my stigma of not being welcome anywhere.

It was hard not to think that this was the fifth anniversary of the last fight I had with my mom, the fight on Christmas that turned into 5 years of not speaking.

Five years and counting.

I try to be positive and enjoy the time I have with Henry and Chooch, but sometimes I just can’t help but wish I had a family that wanted to see me on Christmas.

Meanwhile, my dad had just noticed for the first time that I have tattoos on my fingers (five years later) and made some almost silent grunt of disapproval, but don’t worry — I caught it! About the time he started talking politics is when I started gathering my stuff to leave.

“What do you think about Trump? Oh, don’t tell me you’re voting for HILLARY!?”

NOPE, NOT DOING THIS ON XMAS.

Man, I love my dad but sometimes the vibe in his house is just really tense. I had a feeling he was stressed out about other things, and maybe OPENING THAT BOTTLE OF WINE would have helped, but I figured our 90-minute visit was toeing the line of overstaying our welcome, so we peaced out and went to Denny’s for dinner.

On the way inside, we passed a man leaving with an armful of take-out bags.

“Thank god for Denny’s!” he laughed merrily JUST LIKE SANTA.

Thank god for Denny’s indeed!

The vibe in Denny’s was less depressing than I anticipated. The waitstaff was exceptionally giddy and there was a decent crowd of wanderers, just like us. So, in a way, we finally found somewhere we belonged on Christmas.

Afterward, Henry mentioned that when he was at the nearby Toys R Us a few days ago, he saw a kitten behind it.

“TAKE US THERE!” I battle-cried, to which Henry started wording about how “there’s no way it’s still there” and “it’s getting late” and “I want to go home and dream about my days in the SERVICE.” But of course, Chooch and I got our way and Henry drove the whole 10 yards to Toys R Us, where I seriously immediately saw the glow of the cat’s eyes from under a pine tree as soon as the headlights hit it.

So we made Henry park the car and then Chooch and I spent a good 25 minutes on our hands and knees, meowing and bargaining with this feral cat to come to us, which turned into another 20 minutes of us climbing through bramble as the cat backed away onto a hillside.

We determined that what we needed was CAT FOOD, so we made Henry drive us down the street to Walgreens, where he then bought three cans of it to appease the queen and prince of cats. (That’s me and Chooch in case you’re struggling to keep up, Barb.) But by the time we made it back to the Toys R Us parking lot, the cat was gone. That didn’t stop Chooch and me from spending an additional 25 minutes clucking our tongues, whispering “here kittykittykitty,” and looking up cat summoning spells on a Black Magick for Dummies website.

“JUST LEAVE THE CAT FOOD AND WE WILL COME BACK TOMORROW AND CHECK!” Henry yelled from his post inside the idling car. “For Christ’s sake.”

This could have been our Christmas miracle. Thanks a lot, feral cat.

Maybe next year, we’ll just go away for Christmas.

Ooooh, or have a cat PJ party!

(That carrot pie, tho. Good lord.)