My brother Corey and I were traipsing down Memory Lane the other day when I referenced the time that my childhood best friend and I were “professional junior bridesmaids.

” Corey was like, “Whoa whoa whoa, back up.  I don’t remember this??” To his credit, he was like 2 years old at the time and too concerned with drinking “strawbeddy” milk to notice his teenage sister walking down aisles in pink taffeta.

(Was it taffeta?)

(Do I even know what taffeta is?)

As I was filling in the missing pages of this chapter of the Kelly Family Story for him, it made me realize how actually fucking ridiculous this whole thing was. Let me tell you about it.

The year was 1992. My aunt Susie was planning a wedding with her fiance, Mark (he was fucking awesome, btw, and played in a cover band called Le Chic!). I don’t know whose idea it was, but I somehow got locked in as “junior bridesmaid.” And because my BFF Christy was basically an honorary family member to the point where my Pappap once offered to take her to Europe with us but her parents said no (I was sad!), she was also offered a supporting role in The Wedding.

If you’re reading this and you know me personally, you will remember that this was basically the impetus of what would become a lifelong fear of food / eating disorder / etc. for me because I was a preteen FATTY and my grandma made sure I was aware of it. God forbid I should ruin Susie’s wedding with my fat ass registering seismic activity as I Stay Puft’d my cankles down the aisle. So this was also the year that I became exercise-obsessed too. I was on Slim Fast (yep, at 11! Ask me about the lingering effects that had on my psyche) and working out with Denise Austin and Gilad every day. I remember feeling awesome at the last fitting when my dress had to be taken in, but also thinking that I was still fat.

Speaking of the FITTING, some memories I have of that:

• being pissed because the adults got to drink champagne;
• obviously hating Susie’s choice of dress for us (and let’s be honest, it was probably my grandma’s choice);
• the saleswoman’s name being Rosemary but calling her Rosethorn behind her back because she kept sticking us with pins;
• maniacally singing “Pop Pop Goes the Weasel” (some inexplicably popular pseudo-rap song that was v. popular in 1992?!) in the back of my grandma’s car after leaving the dumb bridal shop to the point where my grandma legit lost her shit and yelled at us. God first, I’m fat then I’m annoying on top of it all.

Fast forward to the wedding. I was 12 by then, I think?

Corey asked who even was in the wedding and all I could remember was Susie’s friend Lori was a Girl Scout (no, not like, in her youth – she was STILL a Girl Scout somehow? I can’t remember what the deal was but I know that Christy and I were majorly side-eyeing each other over this, back when we didn’t know that side-eyeing was a thing) and had once dated former Pgh Penguin Phil Borque but back when he was in the farm league.

Interestingly, my mom was not in the wedding party (she probably opted out because anything that puts even a background spotlight on her is not my mom’s jam) and either was Sharon, the eldest sister, but this is not shocking because Susie and Sharon hated each other.

Luckily, I found these pictures. I have no idea who any of those dudes are or the first lady, but the blond is my cousin Zita: former lingerie model and former girlfriend of former Red Wings Chris Chelios. Lots of hockey…connections in this wedding party.

Susie and Mark have since divorced but Susie is still married to that hairstyle. (Not even knocking her – that coif works for her. I literally can’t imagine her with any other hairstyle. It’s her signature!)

But where this gets kind of weird is that my cousin Zita’s brother Chris (also my cousin, obvi, but also has the distinction AND HONOR of being my godfather) was also slated to get married that year, two months after Susie. So he’s at the wedding with his fiancée, you know, and someone on that side of the family thought it would be adorable if Christy and I donned the dresses again for a second strut down the aisle, this time at the wedding of Chris and Laurie.

I mean, I barely knew Chris, if we’re being honest. Super nice guy, but our families didn’t like, hang out. And Christy CERTAINLY didn’t know him! But yeah, OK. Sure. This is normal. We will be in your wedding too! Wearing the same dresses! Knowing NO ONE in the wedding party!

This wedding was actually kind of fun though. I have a strong memory of getting into the limo after the ceremony to go to the reception. The wedding was at some really nice church downtown, I think? I don’t know, but the reception was at the Embassy Suites near the airport, and I remember it being fancy AF. So, we’re in the limo, right? And all the adults are popping the champers and just, you know, popping off in general too. And this one groomsman, he was really starting to get loose in the limo and the lips, and he looked at me, gestured at me with his sloshing glass, and said, “Your aunt Susie is A BITCH!” Christy and I were like, “Ooooooooooh!!!!!” Anyway, he went on to tell us that he was IN LOVE with her in high school I guess, and she broke his heart or something, I don’t know, but Christy and I were sure to report back to Susie on this later.

The other thing I will never forget about this wedding was that the bride’s younger brother looked like a young Mario Lemieux (hockey again) and Christy and I were LUSTING.

At the reception, we mostly just ran around letting everyone wonder who the fuck we were, but at one point Zita snagged us. She was with her then-boyfriend, some much-older rich guy. She joked that we would also have to be in their wedding. “It’s going to be in Bermuda! We’ll fly you there!”

They never got married, and Christy and I never got another gig as the Pinkies. Probably for the best considering NEITHER COUPLE made it to their 10th anniversary.

OMG when I unearthed this picture, I involuntarily lurched into full-body cackling. No, listen, Linda. Linda, listen. You have no idea the significance of this. June 1992, weekend road trip to Lake Chataugua for Liz’s birthday, accompanied by our other pal Kim; Liz’s parents and younger sister, Jane; and their golden retriever whose name I honestly cannot believe I momentarily forgot.

But before I tell you, can we first appreciate my denim shirt from Merry-Go-Round (probably, I’m assuming – that was my favorite place to shop in 1992 and also where I would later discover Cross Colors and Karl Kani and undergo a full-fledged lifestyle change which is something that probably doesn’t sound like me AT ALL), my TWA travel bag from a previous trip to Europe with my grandparents (UGH I WISH I STILL HAD THIS) with my vacation journal tucked like precious cargo in the front pocket, MY BANGS AND STUPID BUMP-THING THAT I ALWAYS DID (also, this was my SECOND PERM as if getting ONE PERM wasn’t enough for an entire lifetime and beyond), and in my hands is my Walkman which has one of two cassingles in it: “End of the Road” by Boyz II Men, or “Damn…” by Sophie B. Hawkins. When I say those are the only two songs I listened to over and over that weekend, I am being sincere and without an ounce of hyperbole, not even a spittle of exaggeration.

(OK, I also listened to the “Damn…” b-side A LOT too.

OK OK OK, so this picture cracked me up so hard because this was the day that my all-time favorite non-word was accidentally created.

Basically, Jane meant to say “probably,” but then she said “smrobably” instead. That’s it – that is the whole fucking story. Something that took exactly one second to enfold has made this much of a lasting impression on me that I THINK ABOUT IT SO OFTEN and even sometimes say it without even thinking! If I recall, Jane got pissed at some point because we wouldn’t stop saying “smrobably” and then she and Liz got in a fight about it and also this was the weekend that I learned what “unilateral” meant, through the context of Liz’s mom yelling at her for making unilateral decisions.

And then there was the whole PANOVISION debacle that is also something that I think of A LOT. Basically, it rained the whole time we were at Lake Chataugua so we decided to go to the movies at some point. I can’t remember what else was playing but it must have been really dumb stuff for us to unanimously agree to see Far and Away (or maybe it was just Liz who chose it and this was the impetus to the infamous unilateral decision dressing-down??), the very forgettable Cruise/Kidman movie.

Kim was like going off the rails, gushing about how this was going to be so exciting because it was filmed in PANOVISION, so then Liz and I were like stoked too and the whole time we were watching it, I kept waiting for something to happen? Like, something pano-y? BUT IT JUST LOOKED LIKE A REGULAR MOVIE!?!? Ever since then, I notice the stupid “Panovision” logo at the end of like, EVERY MOVIE IN EXISTENCE, and it reanimates my annoyance all over again.

I texted this Lake Chataugua picture IMMEDIATELY to Henry with the caption “smrobably” and he was like, “???” WHY, AFTER 21 YEARS, CAN HE STILL NOT ACCEPT THAT THIS IS BASICALLY A CORNERSTONE OF MY LINGUISITIC HISTORY, A STAPLE IN MY VOCAB.

(I think he’d like to put a staple in my tongue sometimes when I get on these smrobably kicks.)

OMG SHOULD I GET A SMROBABLY TATTOO. SMROBABLY.

(Wait, did we spell it “smrobably” or “smrobly”???)

I took a casual dive in the photo vault again the other night and this time landed in the Wildwood stash!

Always stoked to share pictures from the best time of my life, sigh.

My grandma looks like she actually loves me here! Probably because it was before I got fat, ugly, permed and braces.

(You think I’m kidding – lol.)

Dude. I have the most vivid memories of this boardwalk ball pit. I looked at this picture last night and literally felt like I was in the balls again. IN THE BALLS.

Being the most cute. Can you tell that Gizmo is in my lap!? Super quick back story: My aunt Sharon (mom’s oldest sister) never came to Wildwood with us. It was always just my immediate fam (ugh when RYAN was born and started tagging along) and my grandparents. But on the morning we were leaving for this particular summer’s trip to Wildwood, she presented me with a white box that had holes poked in it the top. She told me not to open it until we got there, and I was DYING, YO. Every time we hit a bump, whatever was inside would squeak and I was so certain it was alive.

This was the year that Gremlins had come out and Sharon had taken me to the theater to see it.

I was 4 and it was SCARY to me so we had to leave once the gremlin action started. But then I was like, “Never mind I want to go back” so she took me back to see it again and this time I made it through the whole thing and never walked out on another movie again until Dolores Claiborne in the 90s. (I was with my then-friend Keri and we were like, “Why isn’t this movie ending? How long is this movie?”)

I had Gremlins on the brain for a GOOD while that year and was 100% positive that Sharon had found me a motherfucking mogwai. I mean, it had to be that, right?

Well, technically it was, but man was I disappointed when we got to Wildwood and I ripped the lid off the box only to discover that it was not actually a living, breathing mogwai but a stuffed Gizmo that squeaked when shaken.

I clearly loved it though, considering he’s in like every picture of me on the piers, lol.

My mom looks very excited to be co-holding Gizmo.

LOL this would have been my dad’s first time at Wildwood with us. ALSO OMG BED BUGS! I have no recollection of ever playing that but certainly remember that it existed.

Happier times, haha.

This picture must have been the next year’s visit because that baby is RYAN UGH (j/k I like hm now) but I’m including it here because of my dad’s interesting early 80s attire. I can promise you that if we were able to pan out right now, you’d see that his shorts were essentially hot pants. And he probably had socks up to his knees.

Well, happy Friday! I’m about to go and erase this past week from my brain – it was long and annoying.

Today is my Pappap’s birthday. He passed away in 1996 and while I miss the HELL out of him every single day, I did eventually reach a point where I was able to stop crying about it at a pin drop and actually enjoy the memories I have.

I acquired a shit ton of photos from whenever we were cleaning out my grandparents house in 2016. I still haven’t hone through everything but I like to rummage through the boxes every now and then. I decided to do that tonight to get some photos of him to post on here and I ended up pulling out a stack from one of our vacations in 1990. I was so wrecked-looking for a long time as a kid and these pictures of me are awfully cringey but it’s time for me to stop caring about that because – well, who cares!

I’m glad this is the stack I drew because I have been thinking a lot lately as we plan our family trip for next summer about how my Pappap (and Aunt Sharon, also featured prominently in the upcoming photos) instilled a strong love of travel into my life. I think he would be happy to know that Chooch is here now and is exactly the same way. I think my Pappap would have been wild about Chooch, honestly.

Anyway, please enjoy this random collection of my brace-faced, knotty-maned, chubby-cheeked adolescent self; my Pappap and Sharon’s disdain for posing for the camera; and a lot of European locations, some that I can’t exactly pinpoint all these years later – sorry!

Get ready for some signature Sharon scowls…

On this trip, we did London, parts of France, Italy, Switzerland, and Germany, I believe. Maybe Amsterdam, too. I would have to consult my old vacation journals and they are in a large trunk which is a pain to open. So we’ll just have to pretend that my memory is tight.

To this day, when I think of the Spanish Steps, I think of the fanciest McD’s I’ve ever visited. I wonder if it’s still there/as nice?

!

I look like I’m crying but this was one of my favorite places when I was a kid, except that there were GIANT spiderwebs inside that bridge and that always scared me. I hope that I can go to Switzerland with Chooch (and Henry, I guess, lol) one day!

I guess Sharon must have taken this picture; I love it a lot.

That green was a choice.

I mean, I hate that I’m about to say this, but Shron really should have smiled more. She was so pretty. Also, seeing those coach buses in the background have me stoked for our summer 2023 trip that better fucking happen because we’ve already paid for some of it and I fucking swear to god there better not be another lockdown. It will be our first time as a family traveling with a group and I’m so excited because I love group tours!!

My pappap was probably ranting about how we had to pay for each pat of butter.

My grandma was a difficult person to travel with.

We’re probably walking off yet another ear-beating from my grandma here in Venice.

I wonder what he was talking about! That one lady is like, “NO FUCKING WAY, YA GOTTA BE SHITTIN’ ME!” in response to whatever tale had him gesticulating like so. You know how kids are always like SO BORED to be sitting with a bunch of adults at a dinner table? I was the opposite – I fucking loved sitting with my pappap because he always had interesting things to say, he always ended up being one of the most popular people on all of our trips, and I felt like A FUCKING GROWN-UP sitting there drinking my hot chocolate (which was usually disgusting Ovaltine in these hotel restaurants) with my plump pinky finger extended.

HNNNNGGGG.

Anyway, I’m glad I never burned these pictures in a hobo fire of shame and I think it’s time that some more of these old shots see the light of day. I was lucky to have had the opportunity to make these memories, even though they weren’t always as idyllic as you’d think. At the end of the day, it was time spent with my pappap and I will always treasure, today especially. Happy birthday, Pappap!!

If you’re reading this, would you like to see more vintage photo dumps like this? LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS. Lol.

Henry, Chooch and I visited Castle Blood last weekend and had the most amazing time as always! It felt, to this dumbo blond anyway, to be even more challenging this season. If you don’t know, Castle Blood isn’t just your run-of-the-mill cheap jump-scare, blood&gore animatronics, chainsaw-finale haunted house. This place is full of the snarkiest collection of undead you will ever encounter at a haunted house. You don’t just get pushed through like sheep either – you stop in each and every room and have real interactions with the denizens, wherein you have to solve puzzles in order to earn one of three talismans.

I am blown away every year by the creative and ingenuity that goes into planning these challenges and the accompanying scripts. If ever you want to be knocked down a peg or five intellectually, this is the haunt for you! Some of these challenges have sincerely had me boarding the Struggle Bus straight to StüpVille, and this year was no exception. First of all, Chooch and I are too stubborn to work together so he kept taking over and wouldn’t listen to me, and then Dead Weight Henry just stood there contributing fuck all.

My eyeballs thought that this picture turned out OK at the time, but nope. Anyway, this is Chooch with one of our favorite denizens!

I still want to donate to have my name put on the crypt wall, but I haven’t decided what name I want to use. OHHONESTLY? APPLEDALE? It ain’t gon’ be ROBBINS, that’s for sure, lol.

Somehow, we managed to acquire all three talismans no thanks to Henry’s refusal to participate, Chooch’s bull-headedness, and my brain essentially shitting the bed. I am definitely starting to feel my age lately because I can’t retain simple instructions – someone tells me what to do in the simplest of terms, and I immediately have to turn to someone else and ask, “Wait, what am I supposed to do?” This happened a few weeks ago at another haunt where the ticket-ghoul told us to walk up the steps and do something and as soon as I got to teh second time, I hissed, “Wait, what?” and Chooch was like, “OMG are you kidding me.”

I was feeling extremely nostalgic after we left last Sunday so the next day, I pulled out my old haunted house journals and photo albums to collect some ancient artifacts. If my records are correct, the first time I went to Castle Blood was in 1996 with my mom and best friend Christy. It was one of the original locations, and I remember standing in line in a room full of horror movie memorabilia and autographed pictures of people in the biz like Tom Savini and George Romero (probably – my memory is not that grand anymore, remember? I JUST TOLD YOU).

This picture must have been from the second time we went, when my friend Lisa came and my mom’s friend Debbie. I really miss that shirt I’m wearing BUT NOT THAT HAIR CUT.

I’m cracking up at the fact that I actually took my 35mm camera with me to haunted houses in the 90s and the actors were, I guess, just like, “Yeah sure” when I would giddily ask to take their pictures.

That’s a whole mood.

We learned that for this season, the Castle has actually incorporated some of the old costumes, like this one, as a throwback!

My friend Chris has served in the role of Professor Scrye for 25 years now, so this picture is definitely from more than 25 years ago! I can’t believe how long I’ve been going to Castle Blood – so long that I have the honor of calling many of the denizens (including the famous Gravely Macabre) my actual real life friends. If you would have told me that when I was a teenager in the 90s, I would like, “DUDE, NO WAY!” and then put my yellow Aiwa Walkman back on, blasting a mixtape that no doubt had at least 9 Bone Thugs songs on it mixed in with Gino Vannelli.

Please enjoy some ticket stubs now.

I’m sure I must have missed a season or two, and I know that 2020 was definitely a sit-out for us (I can’t remember if they were even open – I think they were but I was scared to chance it), but I have been around for nearly every season, multiple moves, cast changes, and eventually even started going to the no-scare matinees once Chooch came onto the scene:

Baby’s First Castle Blood Walk-Thru!

Getting to attend the Friends and Family Event one years was basically my crowning achievement! I remember going to work and bragging about it and everyone was like, “Wow, you have such a charmed life.”

I will never ever ever ever shut up about Castle Blood. It’s such a unique and spooky alternative to the corporate haunts out there. If you are someone who loves haunted houses but can’t get any friends to go with you because they’re scared, please suggest this one to them because while it is spooky (it’s located in a former funeral home, for God’s sake), it leans more toward the gothic Addam’s Family vibe. You *will* get heckled and belittled by the undead residents, and you *will* have your intelligence put to the test (literally), but you will have so much doing it. Get some co-workers together for a team-building experience! Take your kids/neighbor’s kids/grandkids/random kid from the corner for the matinee event!

Just trust me. Go get your tickets here. And tell them that Oh Honestly Erin sent you! (But if you tell BORIS*, he probably won’t care!)

*(MY FAVE. HE IS SO MEAN TO ME AND I LOVE IT.)

You guys! Baby’s First Coaster Enthusiast Event! I was so giddy when we strode right past the “SURFSIDE PIER IS CLOSED FOR A PRIVATE EVENT” sign with the air of people who BELONG and went to the guest services counter to register. I couldn’t have imagined any place better to attend our first coaster event than at my beloved Morey’s Piers! I had watched some videos from coaster YouTubers who attended this event in the past and it just looked so cool and casual.

Immediately, one of the Morey’s guys called out to me from behind the counter, “Are you the reason I keep seeing those shirts all over the Internet?” and I was like, “I HAVE BEEN SEEN BY A MOREY’S PERSONNEL!!

” He was so cool too!

Then I noticed right next to us was a coaster vlogger whom I follow on Instagram and sometimes watch his videos so I had to elbow Henry and he was like, “Ok. Cool.”

Anyway, here was the agenda!

So the reason why this is so cool is that the piers don’t officially open to the general public until noon (Adventure Pier opens at 2pm) so from 9:30 to noon on Saturday, we had free reign of the rides listed up there for special ERT (early ride time / exclusive ride time).

We were the first train of the day on the Great Nor’easter – a trainful of true thoosies! It was a really cool experience because, and I mean this in the best way possible since I’m talking about myself also, but to be a true coaster thoosie, you gotta be a little bit psycho! So imagine a trainful of us assholes, totally screaming our lungs out and just LIVING FOR IT.

And goddammit, this is STILL the best Vekoma SLC IN THE WHOLE WORLD. Literally the ONLY one worth re-riding. Morey’s Piers puts so much TLC into their rides and piers, and their ride operators are just TOP NOTCH – it really elevates the experience.

Oh I should mention that last year, Henry didn’t get a wrist band (we weren’t there for the event last year, this was just a regular day) so the only things he rode was the Great White once and the carousel once. This time, he got to ride everything!

I kept calling Dante’s Dungeon “Dante’s Inferno,” which IS a ride but just…not one at Wildwood. Chooch mocked me which is basically his sole purpose in life these days.

I love love love me a darkride.

Chooch was “not scared” at the real life person who comes after you at the end. They totally got me, though!

Runaway Tram is such a fun family coaster! You would never know it by Henry’s stoic stance.

Now, brace yourselves for a series I like to call Before the Tilt-a-Whirl Tilted and Whirled Our Breakfast.

Me, on the cusp of realizing that Chooch is taking bursts.

Me, starting to sense that something is wrong.

Me, desperately asking for my phone back.

WHY DOES HE TROLL ME SO HARD I HATE IT.

Chooch and I went back for more Nor’easter rerides before ERT ran out.

We walked right onto the front, and then they let us re-ride on any unoccupied row of our choosing and the backrow was open so we snagged it! I realized that the front is waaaay rougher/more intense than the back. The back is where you want to sit to get a nice, smooth ride where you can walk off without your brain feeling scrambled!

Gathering our bearings after a ride on It, which is like the Claw ride that is so ubiquitous in traveling carnivals. It’s fun but WHOOO BOY between that and the Tilt-a-Whirl all before 11am, it was a bit much for me and my baby stomach.

OK, that made me sound like I was alluding to pregnancy. That ain’t it.

Um, OK Boardwalk King.

This was before my WHERE IS MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT, YOU PROMISED ME THAT I WOULD GET MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT IN WILDWOOD / lack of sleep / probably a bit of dehydration breakdown that would happen later that evening. Who, me? Throw a temper tantrum? Pfft, never.

The last thing we did for this portion of the ERT was the Zoom Phloom which we didn’t ride last year and I can’t remember why now – either it wasn’t running or we just didn’t care?? But I am here to tell you that if you are a log flume aficionado, and even if you’re NOT, do not skip out on this. First of all, don’t worry about getting drenched. I mean, yeah, you’re gonna get a little wet but not like, excessively so. Plus, if you’re on the boardwalk in the summer, your ass is gonna dry up REAL QUICKLIKE.

But look, this log flume has an amazing layout where it weaves around and interacts with the waterpark slides and the Great Nor’easter. It’s REALLY cool in that way. And after one of the drops, it literally puts you through a tunnel under the boardwalk while UNDER THE BOARDWALK plays around you! It’s not the Bruce Willis version sadly (aka the BEST version) but it’s so wonderful, nevertheless.

I couldn’t stop gushing about this!

Then at noon, everyone gathered for a group picture.

Numerous shots were taken and I have been OBSESSIVELY checking the Morey’s Piers socials but nothing has been posted yet. I am desperate for a copy of this picture because if you know me, you know that I love being a part of a group and even though I hate having my picture taken, I am ALL ABOUT THE GROUP PHOTOS.

We had a bunch of free time after that, which I loved because I would have been sad if we were back in Wildwood with no time to soak up all the boardwalk vibes.

I didn’t get any Polish Water Ice last year and it was on my agenda this time around because I had a vague memory of Kennywood possibly offering something like this back in the 80s, to the point where I could imagine how this was going to taste and it was 100% the same as in my taste buds’ imagination! Henry and I shared this because even though I always think that I can house something all on my own, chances are my belly will step up and remind me of my limits.

Random Henry Shot.

Chooch passed on the water ice and opted instead for boba.

We went to a really sad arcade inside the Boardwalk Mall. It was…really sad but also full of character. The elderly lady running the place seemed like a true Boardwalk installation. Someone came to visit her, presumably her daughter (?) and brought their dog, who the elderly lady later told us was named Boardwalk Bob. I LOVED THIS WHOLE PORTION OF THE DAY.

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A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

GOD LOVE HER.

PROTECT THIS BOARDWALK BROAD.

Well, I think I will end the first portion of day 1 here.

I can’t believe I missed Duran Duran Day yesterday! I even saw it on the work calendar earlier this week and was all geared up to Simon Le Bon the shit out of my coworkers, but alas. Here we are, a day late and a…Duran short.

This is super cliché, but my all-time favorite Duran song is Hungry Like the Wolf.

I was just a small tot when it came out, and it’s one of those songs that still triggers an emotional response in my brain and belly, and I want nothing more but to be transported back in time, riding to my Pappap’s house in my mom’s red Pontiac with the McD’s sweet and sour sauce stains on the backseat, ready for a long summer day of swimming. Ah, to relive the 80s!

My dad had several Duran Duran CDs in his garage music collection and I can remember sneaking in there during one of our many STAND OFFS and “borrowing” some of them to make mixed tapes with in the mid-90s.

And another strong memory involving this song was the time in high school when I accompanied Lisa to get her bellybutton pierced in Oakland. Her mom was also there since Lisa was a minor, and Lisa’s older friend / former babysitter Kim who I thought was SO COOL back then but then learned as an adult how decidedly NOT COOL she is when we had briefly reunited.

Anyway, I had my camcorder with me because that was basically an extension of my arm back then, and I remember walking down the sidewalk and screaming I LOVE THIS SONG as we walked past a parked car with Hungry Like the Wolf emanating from within. (This is yet another reminder to get all of my old home videotapes converted – HENRY HELP WITH THIS PLZ AND THANKS.)

To this day, when I hear this song, I have to pause and take it in, marinate in that 80s new romantic synth bath. It just never gets old to me, and that opening laugh makes me giddy every time.

Pretty  much anything Duran Duran did in the 80s is my personal preference, but tailing Hungry Like the Wolf for my favorite is this masterpiece that they released in the 90s which I always associate with the way my bedroom was arranged at the time – bed to the right of the doorway, facing the window – which my mom did while I was in Europe with my grandparents. Every time I hear that song, I can imagine myself laying on my bed and watching the video on MTV on my teeny tiny white TV on the wavy metal shelf that I STILL HAVE as an adult. 

Anyway, I love when so many childhood memories are attached to a band.

P.S. My aunt Susie had the most majestic Simon Le Bon bouffant back then too – Simon Le Bouffant?

Today’s tale is a repost from the time Chooch and I heroically saved a moth on the Boulevard during the summer of 2017. Please do enjoy. Let me fluff your pillow for you first. I’m that Nice Bitch.

***

Henry had to work for a few hours this morning, so Chooch and I were over here unsupervised. I decided that I didn’t want to make coffee so I woke him up and suggested that we walk down to Brookline Boulevard so I could get an iced latte from Cafe Noir. I used to hate Cafe Noir because it moved in when Cannon Coffee closed, and the first latte I had tasted strange, not bad per se, but just kind of off. However, I’ve been there numtoerous times since then and the lattes have been phenomenal so now I think it was a problem with the soy milk that day? MAYBE IT WAS ROTTEN?! I don’t know.

Anyway, Chooch and I made it all the way there without disaster or talking to strangers or getting bit by dogs. I guess it was too early for domestic disputes, and the bars weren’t open yet, so the Boulevard was pretty quiet.

Las Palmas didn’t even have their insanely popular taco cart set up yet — it was that early.

Even too early for any strippers to be leaning all slinkily inside doorframes. (Chooch and I actually passed a trio of suspect hookers/strippers the other evening. When I mentioned it after we walked away, Chooch said, “Oh I didn’t notice. Why do you think they’re strippers? Because the one had on that that black shirt that was open all the way down to her bellybutton with a small bra underneath—”

And I interrupted to say, “Yeah and she had on that leather—”

“Choker,” Chooch finished knowingly. OK but yeah, he didn’t noticed.)

But yeah, back to this morning.

We made it to Cafe Noir, where I finally got my morning fix and Chooch ordered his Arnold Palmer with a strangulated stutter and then dwelled on it for the next minute, and probably even longer had we not noticed a small lump on the sidewalk two storefronts up from Cafe Noir.

At first I thought it was a furry leaf, but upon further inspection, Chooch and I found out that it was a MOTH! The largest moth I ever saw in real life! It was laying on its side with its wings together, so it just looked like a basic moth. I didn’t like that it was sitting out in the path of walkers, joggers, bikers, skaters, dogs, future serial killers who love to pull wings off beautiful things….so I said urgently to Chooch, “We have to move him. He’s not safe here!”

Chooch dove headfirst into the deep end of the animal rescue pool. If he was wearing long sleeves, this would be where he rolled them up in a serious LET’S DO THIS motion. JUST LIKE ON TV.

Ever since I was a child, I was always told DO NOT TOUCH A MOTH BECAUSE YOU WILL RUB OFF THE POWDER FROM ITS WINGS AND IT WILL DIEEEEE. So I have never touched a moth or a butterfly because I’m not a murderer.

Of animals or insects, that is.

So I grabbed the nearest leaf and gently tapped it against the moth’s legs or whatever they’re called.

And it was at that moment that it twitched and sat up straight, and in the most dramatic fashion it spread it’s huge wings open wide to reveal the grandest markings I have ever seen on this side of a slideshow in a darkened science classroom.

Chooch and I cried a seriously impressed “WHOA!” in unison, and leaned in closer to admire this total babe all spread out in front of us. People were walking by giving us double takes, because what are those dummies looking at, last night’s puke? A discarded syringe?

NO, JUST A GIFT FROM NATURE, RIGHT HERE IN FROM THE RECORD STORE. YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND.

I swear to god, this majestic moth was the size of half my hand. We expected it to fly away now that it’s wings were open, but it still just sat there.

“Maybe it’s injured,” I said sadly. We tried a few more times to move it, to at least scoot it over closer to the window of the record store where it was out of the direct path of foot traffic but it was becoming increasingly clear that it wasn’t going to budge.

“We can’t do this without something sturdier to slide under it. I hate to leave it but I don’t think there’s anything we can do for it without touching it with our hands and I don’t want to hurt it!” I cried.

“Too bad we don’t have like, a plastic lid or something,” Chooch shrugged hopelessly as we started to walk away. And then 10 feet later, no lie, there was an old red tupperwear lid laying on the sidewalk.

WHAT ARE THE ODDS, ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? IT WAS A FUCKING OMEN! Just like the time Chooch was singing some semi-obscure song from the 80s that I can’t remember at the time of this writing, and then it came on the radio at Eat n Park. He has a bit of magic in him I think. OR HE’S REALLY GOOD AT HIDING HIS SORCERY SCHOOL SYLLABUS. Why did I capslock that, who knows with me, I have blogging dementia.

Chooch grabbed the magically materialized lid and we excitedly ran back to our post-caterpillar charity case and if this were a silent film from the 20s, the caption at the bottom would say HELP IS ON THE WAY! as Chooch and I crashed into each other and fell into a heap of incompetence and idiocy.

With steady concentration and determination, we were able to scoop the moth up on the lid. There was a small grassy area — you know, like a tree bed or whatever you call those parts of sidewalks that are grassy with flowers and bushes and usually some small trees too — a few feet away from our starting point, and I made it almost all the way there before the moth flopped back onto the sidewalk.

“Nooo!” Chooch and I yelled with unbridled anguish. We sat back down on the sidewalk, trying to essentially tickle the moth back onto the lid with a leaf.

An old man stopped.

“Wow, that’s a big Monarch butterfly!” he exclaimed and we were like yeah whatever guy it’s not a butterfly, probably, but we don’t know, so maybe. (Actually, we used our Phone a Friend lifeline later and asked Chris via text, who confirmed that it was a moth so…..sucks to be wrong, old man.)

I explained that it appeared to be injured so we wanted to move it out of harm’s way so that he wouldn’t think we were mothnapping it for our bug prostitution ring or something.

“Oh it’s injured?” he repeated.

Well I mean it’s NOT FLYING AWAY SO EITHER HELP US OR LEAVE, OLD MAN, UGH.

He lost interest and left.

But then a couple who had passed us earlier paused on their way back. The man part of the couple got real close to us and asked tentatively, “So, what’s going on here?” while the girl part of the couple stood far back, shaking her head in an UH UH, NOPE, NO BUGS FOR ME fashion.

We sighed and explained once again our mission, but this man, this kind brave avuncular soul said to us, “Oh, I have something that I can help.”

He set down the shopping bag he was carrying and I waited for him to pull out the butterfly net or the Magic Moth Dust jar, but instead it was two Avon flyers. He placed one on the ground, on either side of the moth, slowly pushed them together until the moth was in the middle of the makeshift gurney, and asked us, “Where we taking it?”

Chooch pointed to the grass next to us, and our wonderful Samaritan gently laid the flyers down and let the moth free in its new safe haven.

“Oh my god, thank you so much!” I cried.

“Oh, you’re welcome! I like helping animals too. Oh, and while I’m at it….” he said, pausing to reach into his shopping bag for the chloroform-soaked handkerchiefs to help him turn Chooch and me into the latest items of his People of Brookline trafficking catalogue. “—I’m helping my daughters sell Avon, so you keep that flyer and here’s an Avon book, too,” he said, handed me all kinds of Avon literature, which I happily accepted because I’d rather wear gross Avon perfume than a chloroform handkerchief any day.

The guy’s name was Marcus, and I will never forget him.

As we parted ways, saying one last goodbye to Moth, we turned just in time to see a man walking his pug straight into the path of where we had originally found Moth.

“DID YOU SEE THAT?!” Chooch yelled with his hand over his chest like a Golden Girl. “THAT is why we had to move that moth!”

I wholeheartedly agreed.

We walked the rest of the way home, sucking on our Cafe Noir drinks with the force of two firefighters, exhausted and dehydrated from putting out some 5 Alarm blaze, recounting our Super Big Exciting OMG Can You Believe It Morning, adrenaline pumping and egos flaring. Then Chooch and some old man crashed into each other on Pioneer Ave, and then awkwardly stood in a weird embrace as the old man struggled to regain his bearings, and Chooch wiped his Arnold Palmer spills from his shirt. It was great to watch as a third-party bystander.

As soon as we got home, I sent Henry this text:

He literally had no fucks and negative cares to give about this. Chooch and I were extremely offended.

“What exactly did you save it from?” Henry went on to text from work.

“Imminent death?!” I replied, like duh, what a dumb question, and Henry replied that he thought I was being a bit extreme.

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

“Why didn’t you just pick it up?” Henry asked me just a little while ago, so I told him about what I had learned as a kid.

“Didn’t you ever hear that?” I asked.

“No!” he laughed, and his outright skepticism made me google it just now and turns out IT’S NOT TRUE! So I basically missed out on 30+ years of moth touching? I did read a lot of things just now that say while it won’t kill moths and butterflies, it could still shorten their lifespan and handling them incorrectly could fatally injure them. So probably it’s for the best that we didn’t pick up Moth with our fumbling, uncoordinated meat-mitts. I also read that they like to play dead, so hopefully that means Moth wasn’t actually injured, but just in some type of self-preservation mode.

A few hours ago, Chooch and I walked back to where we left Moth, and he was gone! We took that as a good sign, that Moth presumably flew home to his family in….a bush or wherever they live, with Saturday morning donut crumbs from Party Cake bakery. What I refuse to believe is that some dumb dog devoured him or that it hopped out into the road and…..don’t make me spell it out for you. :(

God, it feels great to be a hero though. If I was a Girl Scout, I bet I would have earned a badge.

It all started with Korea. Almost everything in my life does, so who’s surprised here.

We were talking about the upcoming Psy album because it’s full of super-hyped duets and collabs. Henry actually scooped me on this one: Psy and Hwasa have allegedly covered an old Pia Zadora song.

“PIA ZADORA?!” I screeched.

Look. Someone at my Pappap’s house liked her in the 80s and I can remember that one of her cassettes was permanently housed in a kitchen drawer near the fridge. As a kid in elementary school, all I knew was that she was “the singer with the crazy hair and weird name.” Of course I didn’t know until years later that she was also the butt of Late Night jokes and a bit scandalous.

I’m pretty sure it was my Aunt Sharon who liked her, and Sharon must be sending me signs from the beyond because I have been reminded of her nearly every day this week.

Anyway! This started the Google descent because first I needed to know what song this was that Psy and Hwasa would be covering and I can safely say that I have never heard it but this is evidently the second time it’s been covered by Korean singers – is Pia big in Korea?!

Then I needed to, of course, see if she’s dead. She is not!

So now I’m on getting deeper in and this is how I saw that she was listed in the cast of Troop Beverly Hills…

wait, what? And then it was starting to come back to me because I saw that movie (one of the best, honestly) in the theater with my Girl Scout Troop OBVIOULSY and have a vague recollection of cheering when she was on the screen for a blip and everyone being like, “????” but then not really caring to know because this was also around the same time I was obsessed with Zsa Zsa Gabor too so my peers just knew when to walk away.

Well, now that I was fully immersed in the Troop Beverly Hills cast list, Henry admitted that he had never seen it. Friends….WHAT. I have clearly done this man a disservice if I wasted 20 years of opportunities to rectify this.

I know that we’ve talked about this movie before at least because he was there in the early 2000s when I realized that JENNY LEWIS was in Rilo Kiley — I used to love them so much in their early years! And fun fact: When Chooch was born, I opted for him to have Henry’s last name because I thought that “Riley Kelly” was too much like “Rilo Kiley” and also didn’t cascade off the tongue as beautifully as Riley Robbins.

Back then, when I told people my reasoning, they were like, “Rilo who?” It got even better when I said he was named after the drummer of Thrice.

“Thrice?”

But I digress! Now that I knew that Henry hadn’t seen this, and after watching the 30 year reunion of some of the cast (Shelley Long is the greatest) on YouTube, I made the unilateral decision that we would be spending our Friday night by watching one of the best movies of my whole childhood.

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I screamed at the Frankie and Annette cameo!

This movie REALLY HOLDS UP. I forgot about how perfectly it makes fun of itself. And how fabulous Shelley Long is. And how much I miss the show Life Goes On.

And guess what?? Henry said that he didn’t hate it and I kept staring at him to make sure he wasn’t falling asleep. Of course, he did his typical “ok what?” smirk here and there but that’s only because he doesn’t understand Girl Scout things.

I screamed, “I can’t believe you never saw this!

” And he goes, “What year did this come out? YEAH, I WAS 24.”

OOh OK, tough guy. So, after he went AWOL.

Still on that Pia Zadora tip though and needing someone to stop me from purchasing a vintage Pia Zadora satin bomber jacket for $130.

I’ll leave you with the opening credits because I forgot how amazing they are and also because I WAS OBSESSED WITH THIS BEACHBOYS SONG and 100% had this recorded from the TV onto a mix tape so I could roller skate to it in the basement.

Just so good, I’m crying, I want to be 9 again (well, actually no).

Oh diary, dear diary, you might recall that I had the day off on Monday. I didn’t really do much other than go to the dentist (ugh), read more of two books that I was trudging through (they ended up being BACK TO BACK 1 STAR READS), and go on two long walks – once around my ‘hood and then after lunch I went to Jefferson Memorial.

I know most cem-enthusiasts would choose a place like Allegheny Cemetery or Homewood Cemetery as their fave graveyards for the gothic, historic aesthetic. But my favorite is Jefferson Memorial in Pleasant Hills. It has more of a park-feel, and no above ground headstones or crypts. BUT, it is where my birth dad, grandparents, and Aunt Sharon live. It is also where I learned how to drive with my pally Lisa (my parents absolutely refused to teach my ass and I subsequently didn’t get my license until I was nearly NINETEEN because my mom “didn’t trust me.”).

Actually, here is a clip of that amateur drivers ed class because I just found a VHS of high school footage in the attic, which is evidently just a gigantic treasure chest for mementoes and memories.

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I tried to “relax” after I was done walking (apparently had five miles under my belt at that point which someone on Instagram commented that I must not be human, walking that much in Vans and I honestly didn’t even notice that I was wearing Vans as opposed to whatever types of tennis shoes are made for walking). Relaxing is extremely hard for me. I sat here for MAYBE five minutes. MAYBE. This is my favorite area of all of the cemetery though.

I thought this was in focus when I took it but now I can see that it clearly was not. Good thing I finally made myself an eye appointment for this Saturday. WOW WHO AM I?? A dentist, eye, and hair appointment all in the span of one week-ish?? Am I an adult now? Me thinks so.

OK, I have to be stupid/sappy/cringey here for a second. While I was clomping around the cem in my Vans, I suddenly felt VERY SAD and lonely. Kind of wistful I guess?? I dunno that I have ever really thought about that sort of feeling but I think I was having it that afternoon: WISTFULNESS. Wow, now I’m imagining myself standing on a windy cliff in Scotland on an overcast day, with a veil blowing in the frigid breeze, staring into the sea.

WISTFULNESS.

Let’s not get carried away, Erin.

I realized that the cause of my weird empty-pit feeling was that I wished dumb Henry was there.

In this exact spot in 2001, I was having a Really Bad Day / Borderline Breakdown (it’s near my birth dad’s grave & I was having an identity crisis). For some reason, I called Not-My-Boyfriend-Yet Henry on my NOKIA cell phone, & he came to the cemetery to calm me down. He brought me a bottle of water, which I promptly choked/drowned on. Something about that moment must have made him think, “this girl is a MESS. I’ll stick around, see how this plays out.” Lol. Anyway, we were at the same spot together a few weekends ago so I RECREATED that moment.

Pretty sure I have referenced this moment in here before, but a quick run-down of the full story is that I was still dating my then-boyfriend Jeff. Just that day, I had been reunited with my birth dad’s mom and aunt, having no contact with them at all after my dad died in 1982. I had absolutely no memory of these people, and it was really jarring to sit there and hear good stories about my birth dad when I had spent my whole life up until then either being told about all the horrible things he had done or just flat out or just having everyone act like he never existed, like I didn’t grow up not knowing who my dad was.

So, it was VERY emotional for me that day. I was supposed to have plans that night with Jeff, so I called him from my car on the way back home from this bizarre reunion. I was pretty rattled and cried a little bit while recapping the afternoon for him. His response was something along the lines of, “Well, if you’re going to be all upset and crying, let’s just hang out another time.”

What a sweetheart!

Instead of going home, I stopped at the cemetery. I found my dad’s grave (my mom had showed it to me once when I was a kid and I remembered the general area, but I spent a good while shambling around like a zombie until I finally spotted it) and sat there, just absolutely losing my mind and mourning the loss of a dad I barely knew, for the first time in 20 years.

I had a boyfriend who wanted no parts in supporting me while I tried to process this new family and information, and a co-worker/something more who dropped everything when I called him, told me not to go anywhere, and met me at the cemetery with a bottle of water. Dude, choose the person who cares about your hydration. Choose them every time! Obviously I dumped Jeff very soon after this and then, well, THE REST OF HISTORY *vomit puke barf*

****

Back to 2022. So I was feeling all “wah wah” without Henry and thought, “Hey. I will call him. That is what cell phones are for.” So I did and he was really short with me and being annoying because he was “WORKING” so then I quickly fell back down to earth and just like that, WISTFULNESS CURED, MOTHERFUCKER.

On Sunday, I went into the office with my Mover Guy Henry in order to *sniff sniff* clean out my desk. I still work there! But because so many of us are either working entirely from home, or adopting a hybrid schedule, we are eventually going to lose space on our floor and move to a shared-space situation. Not thrilled about that, but I also will only be working from the office one day a week starting in April, so I don’t really have much room to complain.

This is the third or fourth time I’ve been in the office, but I realized that I hadn’t been in the bathroom there since March 2020 and I wanted to get a selfie for old time’s sake. Weird fact  but when I first started working there, I was obsessed with the bathroom because it was so pretty. You can’t tell from this picture, but it has really nice fuchsia wall paper when you walk in, and back when I started the Firm had JUST moved into this building, literally like several weeks prior to my start date, so the bathrooms were SPARKLING. I remember thinking the sink was so cool, but then after awhile, it just got really gross because it’s a trough sink and all kinds of shit would congregate in the corner.

*barf*

This is also the bathroom where the infamous WATER BREAKING happened in 2011!

I pitched a lot of things that came out of my desk because it was like Mary Poppins’ satchel for real and I’m really not trying to be a hoarder, but I did keep some stuff that makes me smile – I keep mementos in cute photo boxes in my closet so I don’t feel too awful about it. I guess. Anyway, let’s look at some of the random things I saved:

Both of these emails make me laugh and remind me of better, warmer times in the office! I miss Brad a lot – we were fake enemies and liked to harass each other for fun. I actually tried to hide from him in my office (LOL remember when I had an office, those were….the days) on his last day because I didn’t want to say goodbye. He found me trying to squeeze into my closet and forced me to hug him goodbye. It was sad. I did see him a few times even after he left – he came to some of my pie parties and also Chooch and I ran into him and his fiancee (are they married now I wonder?? I’m not on Facebook so basically am a social pariah) at the Hollywood Theater several years ago when they were showing the OG “Halloween.”

Lou is also my work frenemy! We #UghLou and #UghErin each other all the time. I think the nicest thing I ever said to him was “Have an OK weekend.” He is still currently employed at The Law Firm so we at least still chat here and there. But yeah, these emails are keepers as far as I’m concerned.

All of my magnets live on the fridge at home now :( I mean, it’s OK! I’m just glad I can look at them all of the time again.

Being surrounded by so many metal cabinets at the office made it a no-brainer to start a magnet collection. I think it kind of drives Henry crazy because whenever we’re on a road trip or whatever, I’m always like WAIT I NEED A MAGNET at the last minute. And I get really up in arms when we go to an amusement park and THEY DON’T HAVE MAGNETS?? (See: that Seabreeze post card up there – it was the best I could do souvenir-wise.)

One of my worst magnet memories is when I bought one during the DMZ tour in South Korea and FUCKING LEFT IT ON THE TOUR BUS.

OMG I wish I hadn’t remembered that just now because I am so sad all over again.

I dunno, I think collecting magnets is fun. It’s better than the souvenir spoons I used to collect when I was a kid and I’m pretty sure my mom threw them all away, along with my massive brochure collection.

Here is my citation from when I was forced to JAYWALK with Mean Amber and then she ran back to the office and told everyone about how she made me jaywalk and I was screaming and running like Phoebe from Friends, and then I came back to this CITATION on my desk from NATE.

I can’t remember the significance behind “Just” Erin Kelly.

Conversely! Here is my Gold Star for Excellence in the Field of Excellence from Nate and Sandy! I can’t remember if this was the same time they had an impromptu parade for me and I literally wanted to melt into my seat and be recycled into a shoe.

Behind that is BARB whom I miss so much it physically hurts me! I have had no contact with her in a very long time and I am so sad about it. I wish she never quit The Law Firm, I miss our shenanigans, I miss getting called into Sue’s office for talking too much or doing shady things with Barb (like when we passive aggressively bullied this guy BOB who was such a jerk and Office NARC). I just miss her being my Office Mom and cracking up together so hard that I would often have to run and I mean run to the bathroom so I wouldn’t pee my pants.

There was one time when I had to go TO JURY DUTY and Barb was so concerned for me because back then (in 2011) I didn’t know where anything was downtown and was somehow even more helpless than I am currently if you can believe that.

Anyway, I shared that picture with Wendy, Jeannie and Aaron today; Aaron said that he thinks it was Tyler who took this picture and that sounds about right!

Oh man, I am honestly sitting here in tears as I write this because of how much things have changed. I know I should be grateful that I get to work from home now but if I could choose to have things go back to how they were then, I think I would choose that.

I just…feel very lonely now. But I am grateful for the handful of Jabber pals I have that keep me company during the long days!

A bunch of wheelchair pictures that I was collecting! I should probably get some kind of frame for them.

I literally have no idea who/what/where/when/why/how. But you bet your sweaty ass that this bitch came home with me and went right into the memento box!

Well, that’s all for now. Times change, life goes on, etc etc.

But I still have FEELINGS about it, OK??

We admittedly really fell off the attic destashing wagon after the first weekend we started lol; we really have no ambition. To be fair, most of January and part of February was spent getting slammed with Valentine card orders – not complaining!!

Anyway, it snowed a lot over night and was generally miserable out, so the weather combined with equally-as-miserable gas prices kept us inside today. So, what better time to reconvene in the attic armed with industrial garbage bags?!

Granted, I only semi-helped, and excused myself at one point to go and do a walking workout, but in the time I did spend in the attic today, I found some fun things!

I was straight up obsessed with While You Were Out and obviously Teresa Strasser was my favorite. I actually learned the term “gilding the lily” from her (which Chooch claims I say “like, all of the time” apparently). I have a very fond memory of recovering from a kidney infection so bad it landed me in the ER, while laying on the couch and watching WYWO on TLC. Back when TLC had good reality shows. This literally was my comfort show. And I associate it with brownies from the Giant Eagle bakery because it was all I wanted to eat and Henry was like “aye aye captain” and fetched them for me, and then when I gained weight, I blamed it on him but this was very early into our relationship and he probably wasn’t used to that yet and obviously cried alone in the dark.

I emailed Teresa one day to gush about how great she is and when I told her I was from Pittsburgh, she said she went to CMU! And then asked if I wanted a signed picture. Um, heck yeah, lady. I’ll add it to my collection of Melissa Brenna / Jen Horton from Days of Our Lives, David Copperfield, Elvira, and some host of a radio show in England whose name I can’t remember at the mo’ but I’m certain I recently posted about this.

Only bad thing about Teresa is that I listed her as an interest on LiveJournal and that is the fateful circumstance that led my ex-bff Christina to me. Nearly 20 years of tumult later, we talk sporadically but I mostly still hate her for being a fucking lying fake bitch.

Thanks, Teresa.

DUDE NEED I SAY MORE.

Henry casually said, “here’s my restricted area badge” and I nearly dove across 8 boxes of memories to snatch it from him.

“We’ll be keeping this,” I said as I snapped a picture to immediately post on IG.

“Do you know a XXXX XXXXXX?” Henry asked. The name immediately rang a bell, and I remembered that my brother Ryan was childhood friends with a kid that had the same name.

“Well, his dad crashed his car into my house when I lived in Pleasant Hills,” Henry said, handing me the accident report that he has evidently not been able to part with since THE YEAR OF THE INCIDENT: 1999.

I texted Ryan STAT to tell him of this development. It was funnier at first when I misheard Henry and thought he said it was actually Ryan’s friend who did the crashing, because he would have been A BIT young to be driving in 1999. But no, it was the dad and the STORY he gave the cops was that he was eating an ice cream cone while driving and CHOKED ON A PEANUT, causing him to lose control and veer off the road straight into Henry’s dining room. It’s only able to be a funny story now because no one was injured, and insurance paid for Henry’s house repairs so we can all sit back and laugh about it now because really, your man was choking on a peanut? A LIKELY STORY.

Remember when I was mentioned in one of posts about THE CURE corner that I don’t have the tickets from when I saw The Cure in Canberra, Australia because I tried to laminate them when I came home and it ended up burning them and they became unsalvageable.
Well, I forgot that Robert Smith’s autograph (and Roger and Jason’s!) was still legible even though the rest of the info on the ticket was trashed, so I kept it. Totally forgot about this until today when Henry unearthed it from a crate of “miscellaneous stuff.” I was happy but also felt that same stomach sinking sensation at the memory of this tragedy which occurred in my office at Weiss Meats. Ugh. But! Now I have it displayed with the rest of my Cure concert tickets in my Cure Corner, so I feel a sense of completeness. Thanks, Henry, for finding this and not immediately think it was trash, lol.

I also found a VHS tape of footage from my 1995 Europe trip, recorded by one of the people in the tour group with us! She had mailed me a copy of it at some point after we all returned home and this is a big deal because this was the same trip that STEVE MY CRUSH was on! We still have a VCR hooked up from last year when I found my mom’s old Jackie Sorenson aerobics tape and couldn’t think of anything else that I wanted to do but the PONY-MONKEY on Jackie’s command.

So I made Henry watch this RIVETING home movie recorded by a 15-year-old girl from Minnesota just so I could play Steve-spotting. There is very little footage of me on this tape because when I had recently gotten my hair SHORN against my will (my mom told the stylist to “keep cutting” even though I was prepared with a picture of CARRIE BRADY from Days of Our Lives, wow, two DAYS references in one blog post, THERE’S THE ERIN WE KNOW) and was feeling very self-conscious about it. Amanda did a very good respecting my wishes but I did make it in a few times, like in this clip from Greece where I am looking v. 1995. But it was nice to see footage of my aunt Sharon though even though we fought the whole time lol.

I honestly do not remember THIS DENIM ENSEMBLE at all, but I also recently found a picture of me from the same day of that trip so I think it’s a sign that I should recreate this look for our spring break vaca that may or may not be happening (see aforementioned complaint about GAS PRICES).

Ugh same dumb Leno-smile, even back in 1995!

Of course I got so caught up in nostalgia that I went on an Internet deep dive for Amanda. I actually found her mom on Facebook and from there found her younger sister Natalie. There were a few pictures of Amanda on Natalie’s page, but she wasn’t tagged so perhaps she is a cool person like me, who is Facebookless.

Wait, do you guys still call it Facebook, or the new name whatever it is?

Amanda and Natalie still look like themselves! They have aged super well. Amanda would be a year younger them me, I believe, and her sister is three years younger than me. They were both instantly recognizable to me! I wish I could have found an email address for Amanda but who could say that she would even remember me? I think about that all the time, because I remember so many people with whom I have had only brief encounters, but how many of them ever get a memory-flash of me?! There goes my inferiority complex again.

Anyway, that’s all I got for now. Cleaning out the attic has been so tedious. I hate cleaning a lot. But I also want to have an extra room! Ah what to do.

When it’s 1997 and you’re at the mall trying to use up that last picture on the roll so you can drop your film off at Ritz.

Double prints.

One hour processing.

And your sidekick Brian is like “You are embarrassing.”

(This was totally at Kaufmann’s in Century III Mall, btw. RIP Kaufmann’s. RIP Century III Mall.)

Blurry picture of Heather, me, and Justin during the summer of 1998, when we went to the Pittsburgh airport in the middle of the night for no reason other than we had nothing else to do and wanted to get ice cream cones at the McDonald’s there. I remember setting up my camera to take this picture while we were hanging out at one of the gates, waiting for planes, and spying on an airport employee who was sprawled out along some chairs, fast asleep.

It’s crazy to think that back then, you could do that. Just…chill at an airport for no reason, and no one questioned you. Just three dumb teenagers clomping from gate to gate like we had every right to be there.

Then on the way home driving down 279 in the dark, I inexplicably drove my car into one of the out of control truck ramps to nowhere, and amazingly didn’t get my car stuck but definitely succeeded in freaking everyone out, but that was kind of my specialty back then.

The late 90s were lit.

I used to be really into going to major FOODIE type of restaurants, but lately I’m looking for something a bit more down to earth than sitting in a candlelit room with yuppies, having the essence of hickory and truffles elegantly farted into my face by a haunted accordion. I mean, that shit is cool for a second but sometimes I just really want to eat comfort food in some small town dive with the local yokels, you know what I’m saying?

I guess this is our current version of “going out on dates” since Chooch has ditched us for That McDonald’s Life. Not gonna lie, it’s been nice to get out of the house and neither of us are opposed to driving out of Pittsburgh so it’s been nice to see non-Brookline sights. Even rural shit, I guess.

For this weekend’s diner date, I let Henry choose. As usual, he chose poorly. It was some place called G&G’s or something else equally auto body-sounding. It was in VANDERGRIFT, whatever that means, and at first I was like, “OK G&G’s, I see you. Let’s goooo” because it was situated squat in the middle of an adorable small-town street (actually, it was on the corner) and it looked cute! Not all like tires were getting rotated in the back!

Except that it was PACKED and not regular-PACKED, but TIGHTLY-PACKED. So as soon as we walked in and put our name and number on the list, I felt panicky. I mean, I’m getting less OMG about eating in restaurants during The Bad Times, but I’m not OK with crowds still. And I really didn’t want to sit in the middle of so many small-town mouth breathers just for the sake of a grilled cheese that, let’s be real, would be devoured within 4 bites.

Since the host had my number, we went back to sit in the car. There was nowhere to stand in the little foyer without jutting your buns into the face of diner.

We had only been waiting in the car for about 10 minutes before I started getting RULL antsy and “don’t they know who we are”‘ish, so Henry was like, “OMG fine let’s find somewhere else to go, fuck me for trying to choose a place without your consent.”

THAT’S RIGHT, BITCH.

I ended up finding a place through my nemesis Yelp that was allegedly “9 minutes” away. At first I was like, “I’m not sure about this place, it has taxidermy” which is obviously completely off-brand for me. But at the same time, it was the kind of DARK LOG CABIN vibe I was yearning for and just didn’t know it.

On the way there, that fucking G&G motherfucker had the audacity to call me to tell me our table was ready. Cool fucking story! I was mad that they called and not texted (you know, with their restaurant landline) so I refused to answer out of principal. They called right back! Jesus, why are you sweatin’ me, G&G?? Get a life!

Anyway, we rolled up to BONFIRE and I was like, “OK, this is nothing to look at from the outside” and then immediately upon entering, we were cock-slapped in the face by a wall of stale cigarette stench because the steps to the basement LOUNGE was right next to the entrance. I was tempted to go down there and check in on the sad sacks crying into their beers, but there’s always next time.

The front room was empty aside from a table of OLD MEN REGULARS who told us to just go ahead and sit down. I had lowkey Blue Flame-circa-1984 vibes,  to be honest, and even though I still was MEH about the DEER HEADS everywhere, I was really feeling like this was the place that I was meant to me, fuck you G&G. (And you too Henry for suggesting that dump.)

Henry immediately headed straight for the bathroom while I chose the one booth that was situated right next to a beam on one side – Henry’s side, lol.

The waitress came to get our drink orders and she was so adorable in a cowgirl flannel and Princess Leia buns. She said she loved my sweater and I sang, “I THINK I’M GONNA LIKE IT HERE” in my best Annie impersonation while Daddy Warbucks was pissing in the john.

“How was the bathroom?? Was it cool??” I cried after Henry returned and finally managed to get situated in the booth without having to slice off part of his gut first. (And yes, I was a good orphan and ordered a stupid unsweetened ice tea for him in his absence.)

“Not really, it was just a regular bathroom,” he said. “Nothing special.”

“OK well I’m taking my phone anyway just in case,” I cried as I rolled out of the booth toward the restrooms. Henry never thinks anything is special so I’d be the judge of that.

It was OK! Kept up the dead animal theme.

Back in the LODGE, Henry ordered cole slaw and something called Texas Toenails or something from the appetizer section of the menu – he was really flexing that Faygo salary. Meanwhile, someone sitting at the Old Man table had a ringtone that sounded like the horn of one of those mini-big rigs that the SHRINER’S drive down my road during the Memorial Day Parade.

Hold please, while I find an example.

LOL I just caught Henry looking all around for the sound.

Every time that notification went off, I pictured one of the old guys paying the check and then peeling out of the Bonfire lot in his bitchin’ Shriner mini-car, honk-honk motherfuckers. Why was this so stupidly funny to me??

I finished the word search in like 5 minutes or less because I am actually a prodigy at word searches in case you never read about me in the local Pennysaver or whatever. Also, Henry thought our server’s name was Audible and definitely not Autumn.

Dude, this grilled cheese was just what I needed. And I stole some of Henry’s fries which were JUST THE WAY I LIKE IT. Yeah, I could handle the whole HUNTER’S LODGE vibe a lot better if all the dead animals were fake. I felt like a hypocrite gushing over how JUST MY STYLE that place is! But it’s true! I love dark/dim restaurants. Sigh.

Meanwhile, there was a steady stream of old country classics playing, as expected. I don’t like country at all but if I’m going to be stuck somewhere enduring it, I would definitely prefer the stuff from the 70s and early 80s, like Kenny Rogers or Dolly Parton shit you know? So I wasn’t mouthing off about the Bonfire soundtrack at all. However, at one point, this one song came on that made me straight up drop my grilled cheese.

“OMG I HAVEN’T HEARD THIS SONG SINCE I WAS LITTLE AND IT’S BRINGING BACK HIDDEN MEMORIES, MAYBE OF MY BIO-DAD???” I hissed across the table because god forbid any of the deer heads heard me baring my soul. There was literally no one else around us but them. :(

It was that I WOULDN’T HAVE MISSED IT FOR THE WORLD jam and I was like on the verge of spurting out tears.

Henry couldn’t remember who sang it, and I’m certain I probably never knew, so a quick Shazaam learned him  that it was Ronnie Milsap.

“Oh, I never would have guessed that,” I scoffed. “I don’t even know who he is, just his name.”

“RONNIE MILSAP?!” Henry repeated, like OK I already said I know the name, just not really who he is but cook on with your irritating reiterations, Chef Dick. And then, “THE BLIND COUNTRY SINGER!!!??”

The way he said this, totally blurted it out across the table in this serious, frenzied way like he was the friend I phoned and he was telling me the winning answer.

We locked eyes for a moment just as the SHRINER NOTIFICATION went off 4 times in succession at the Elder Table and I just lost it, mid-chew, about to spit out a glob of grilled cheese cud onto Henry’s glasses. It was the most hilarious 3 seconds I’ve experienced in quite some time, Henry’s dire Milsap description followed by clown horns. I was choking at that point, tears streaming down my scrunched up fat face, and even Henry started laughing but I don’t think he knew why.

OMG I will never forget RONNIE MILSAP ever again except for when I started to write this portion of the blog post and had to google “Who sings….” because I totally forgot.

THE BLIND COUNTRY SINGER.

JOHN WAYNE SHIT.

SAW SHIT.

OK somehow I ended up feasting on coconut (WHY DO I ALWAYS TYPE COCOCUNT AT FIRST???) cream pie three weekends in a row, and I have no regertz. This one was so good and totally my style!! I knew as soon as AUDIBLE was walking over playing a sample of THE LAST BUCKAROO* with my slice of pie in her hand, that this was going to be a winner. For starters, it had WHIPPED TOPPING. And the actual coconut cream was fresh and homemade-tasting and not snot-textured and vanilla pudding-y which is my least favorite kind and sadly the kind that Janna and I had two weeks ago at that other place I was obsessed with but already forgot the name of.

*(I literally just googled “What are names of classic western books” lol)

This is where all the CIG STENCH was emanating from.

Oh shit, I should have checked the menu to see if they have SHIRLEY TEMPLES because this totally seemed like the type of establishment that would.

Anyway, I am smitten with this place. I want to go back soon-ish and check out the BACK ROOM which seems to overlook A GORGE. Or maybe just a slight hill.

I might have my birthday dinner here so stay tuned for an invitation. The Watering Hole area would probably be a great place for an AFTER PARTY. If I send you an invitation, you better show up and say I WOULDN’T HAVE MISSED IT FOR THE WORLD.

First round of Shirley Temples on Chooch!

I 보고 싶다 Korea bigly & am letting myself lean into it by wistfully scrolling thru my Korea photo albums from our first trip. But then I started to come across various pictures of Henry, some slightly edited by Chooch, and now I’m just laughing which is good because this week was EW but I feel like I say that every Friday so I guess you could say this week was just NORMAL.

He just came into the room and saw all these pictures on the screen and said, “Hey—-why….I hate you” and then went about his boring Man About the House business. Anyway, I took this picture because I thought it was funny that he was sitting next to a Pocari Sweat vending machine while waiting for the subway and also Pocari Sweat is better than the junk he peddles from his Faygo Factory.

Chooch took this picture of Henry when we were getting ready to leave Busan and it was so funny to him that he was legit crying while looking at it on his phone a few minutes later. I even printed it out and framed it as Xmas present for Chooch that year, lol. EVERYTHING HENRY IS FUNNY BY ACCIDENT.

WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY? IT’S NOT FUNNY, IT’S STUPID BUT I’M CRYING RIGHT NOW.

Henry finding us after he thought he lost us in Hongdae, lol, loser.

He’s looking at the subway map so I can guarantee that he and Chooch started fighting over directions probably before I even finished taking this picture.

But what if Henry really looked like this as a baby lolololololololololololololololololololololololololol sorry I couldn’t stop doing that because I was rubbing my fingers between the “l” and “o” and it felt satisfying.

Waiting across the street for Henry to come back from retrieving Chooch’s T-Money card from the hotel. Henry was like, “I WILL GET IT BY MYSELF” when Chooch realized he left it behind because for Some Reason^TM we were always super giddy walking through the lobby, past the front desk, waiting for the elevator, on the elevator….you get the idea. Oh my fucking god there was this one time when we were on the elevator with these people who I Americanly profiled as “The Germans” just because the dad looked like some fat guy who enjoyed wienerschnitzel and lederhosen, and we literally could not stop laughing. The elevator was MIRRORED too so there was absolutely no hiding the fact that we were being little devilish pricks and and it was so obvious. I even tried to say something like, “BOY, I’M TIRED” but it came out like “Boyblahahahahahahahahahahaha” and what did it matter anyway, German Family probably couldn’t understand English, oh there I go again, being all Americanny!!

Sorry, I really am tired now. And I like German people. I don’t hast them. Du hast them.

Yeah, it might be an early night for me.

Zapangi isn’t there anymore. :( Also, I asked Henry three years ago to replace our front door with a vending machine door and he has yet to do this.

OK so I know you’re thinking, “Wow, did Henry just pack a pocketbook full of clothes for an international vacation?” and usually I would agree but I’m pretty sure that the pictures of him in that flannel were all from the same day!

WAIT my pocketbook (dumb) joke just reminded me that Henry literally used to use this super ugly leather BOWLING BAG from the 70s as his overnight bag when we went on road trips in the Earlier Years and I was always so embarrassed even though that stupid thing was vintage and probably something that a very niche group of people coveted. I wonder if he still has it. Maybe I could try to sell it on eBay.

OK cool, well, hopefully everyone has a fun weekend!