I asked Chooch last night what makes him happy. Without so much as a pause to consider, he said, “Going to concerts.”

Good thing I snagged us two tickets to see Pierce the Veil perform their soon-to-be-released new album in its entirety at the House of Blues in Cleveland!

It’s the best feeling in the world to be able to go to shows with my kid. I hope that one day when he’s older, these will be some of the best memories for him, the things he loves to tell his friends about. How his first concert was Pierce the Veil when he was 6. How he started going to Warped Tour when he was 7. How he met his musical idol Christofer Drew backstage at the Grog Shop in Cleveland. His Emarosa connection. His obsession with The Summer Set’s lyrics. And I hope that when things get rough for him, music will help soothe him like it helps me. I keep telling Henry, “Bled Fest and Warped Tour will help me. I just need to get through this, and then Bled Fest and Warped Tour. BLED FEST AND WARPED TOUR, HENRY.”

And because I’m in a very TREAT YO’SELF state of mind, I also got myself a ticket to see John Carpenter in July because the Halloween theme, you guys. The fucking Halloween theme.

I DO WHAT I WANT AND I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK.

And now it’s time for Daily Cry. Bled Fest and Warped Tour need to get here quick.

My music obsession was definitely sculpted and honed in my grandparents’ house. I made my first mixtape there using a Fisher Price tape recorder; it had a lot of family conversations that I captured without permission and Rockwell’s “Somebody’s Watching Me” which I recorded off the music video that was playing on the TV. I’d eat my grilled cheese at the kitchen counter to a soft rock soundtrack wafting out of a stereo kept tucked away in a cabinet behind me. My friend Amy and I played on the enclosed porch a lot, where I would often play a BRUCE WILLIS cassette that had his cover of “Under the Boardwalk” on it and my god was that song THE FUCKING SHIT.

But when I think about my romance with music in the 80s, the distinct memory of sitting on the floor of the game room, playing song after song on the jukebox,  always comes to mind.

SHE BOP!

LUCKY STAR!

SAY SAY SAY!

But the one that stands out the most is Phil Collins and Genesis. My love for Phil is unabashed. I’ve always been open about it too, even in high school when I went to see him at the Civic Arena and I gave no fucks about everyone knowing. I decided to torture myself the other night, so on my drive home I put on “Tonight, Tonight, Tonight” and just fucking lost it, but it felt really good to get it all out. I was a little girl again, sitting on that game room floor, playing my favorite songs over and over again.

Seriously, this song is everything. Whatever that means.

There was also a jukebox in the other game room at their house, but that one played “old people” music and I didn’t like it.

Music is the best damn time capsule. Sometimes I find myself getting a little too dead on the inside and all it takes is one song to bring back the feels. My dad had a jukebox too, in his garage, but that one had of 90s jams on it. I used to play Toad the Wet Sprocket over and over while hitting a tennis ball off the garage door. But it never felt the same as that jukebox in the game room.

The good jukebox. Not the old people jukebox.

My mom is all, “Why don’t you guys take the jukebox?” and I’m like, “ARE YOU TRYING TO MURDER ME WITH MEMORIES?”

There’s no real point to this other than I love jukeboxes, I’m so goddamn tired, and I really fucking miss my Pappap.

Anyway. This song is relevant to my life right now because GET ME OUT OF HERE.

After years of not being inside of my Pappap’s house, I’ve been over there every day since Wednesday. My brother Corey and I were standing in one of the game rooms when we spotted this crazy ornamental box thing on a fireplace mantel.

“Oh my god, that looks like it belongs in your house!” Corey said.

I asked him if it would be weird if I took it and he was just like, no don’t be dumb. So I did. Because it calling to me. 

I started rooting through it later that night and it’s mostly full of old curlers, Bobby pins, matchbooks, receipts (mostly Sharon’s—things like dry cleaning, etc) but there was also a doctors appointment card in there with my birth dad’s name on it, which was kind of jarring to see.

We were over there again yesterday and uncovered a photo album in the living room. When I was little, I was OBSESSED with paging through tomes and tomes of photos.

I loved asking my grandma, “And who is this? And this?” But I had never seen this photo album before in my life. It appears that it belongs to my Aunt Sharon and it’s full of Polaroids from a party she must have had there in the 70s. At first, it made me feel so depressed, but then Corey admitted that seeing pictures of the house being so alive made him feel happy. And he’s right. The party years were over by the time I came onto the scene, but I used to hear stories about the epic parties held in that house, and it was pretty awesome to see pictures of Sharon looking so happy, hosting a party for her friends. There’s even a photo of her with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, and we never knew she ever smoked!

I feel like my grandparents must have been on vacation at this time because I have a hard time believing my grandma was OK with randoms traipsing through her master bathroom, lol.

Anyway, in one of the photos, that box is sitting on a table in the game room!!!!

I’ve never noticed this thing before in my life, and now it’s punching me in the face twice in 4 days.

My grandma used to babysit me when I was super little. My friend Amy’s grandparents lived next door, so she would always come over and we would spend a ton of time in that game room playing at the bar. One of the waitresses at Blue Flame had given me an order pad thing and we would use that to take each other’s bar orders, because that’s what 5-year-olds do when their playroom is essentially an adult’s playroom. We’d go back and forth between that and the slot machines.

And in high school, this is where L.A.M.E. had all of their “meetings” and where we would film a lot of our English class videos. Yet I don’t even recall seeing that box. It’s so bizarre to me!

So many puzzle pieces.

In an effort to do something normal, I went to Journeys yesterday to buy some new TOMS. Henry and I weren’t even all the way into the store yet before a young salesguy was firing off apathetic scene kid salutations at us. I was annoyed at first, because everything annoys me anymore, but then he came over while I was examining the TOMS situation, and I mumbled something about not wanting a white pair because I planned to wearing them outside a lot, like to Warped Tour.

“You know we sponsor Warped,” he casually said as we rooted through the TOMS table together. I actually did know this but I still quietly stood there and listened as he told me that he’s actually in a competition right now to get sent to Warped and run the tent.

“What’s it based on, sales?”  I asked.

“Well, right now it’s socks actually. We’re being challenged to sell the most socks.”

This is when I noticed that he kind of resembled Tilian Pearson from Dance Gavin Dance and that made me want him to win. So I picked out of a pair of pink TOMS and told him to throw in some low-cut socks too because Chooch’s current sock stash have the texture of paper mache. I mean, these fucking foot swathes can stand up on their own, even when washed.

And the stench is forever.

While he was ringing me up, he asked for my email address.

“But Gavin Can’t Dance,” I started to say, and he interrupted me.

“Is that a Dance Gavin Dance reference?

They’re my favorite band!” He gushed, his bored vocal cadence getting a small shot of life.

“It is,” sighed his co-worker who had just emerged from the back.

“SAME!” I cried happily because THIS NEVER HAPPENS. “Did you go to their 10-Year Anniversary tour?”

“No,” he said sadly. “My girlfriend at the time had a dance competition and I had to go to that, but Dane next door at Game Stop went to the Columbus show.” I looked at Henry and tried to imagine choosing something he was doing over seeing Dance Gavin Dance, and I just laughed a lot on the inside.

I told him that Henry and I went to the Cleveland show and he was all, “WAS IT AMAZING?! DID JONNY AND KURT SING TOO?!” And then we expressed mutual sadness over Kurt Travis leaving A Lot Like Birds and I told him and his co-worker who was still standing there about the Kurt Travis house show I went to in Oakland last summer and how I had an easy 15 years on everyone there and the co-worker guy was like, “Hey, music has no age limits” and I seriously considered quitting my job and applying at Journeys.

MY PEOPLE.

I tentatively asked my new bro (Sam, in case you care) his thoughts on Emarosa, because oftentimes DGD fans are still rabid supporters of Jonny Craig.

“I LOVE THEM! And Bradley is just amazing as their singer. I actually really like Versus a lot. Have you heard their Reimagined album?”

I mean, DUH. So we talked about how fantastic Bradley is and my heart felt like it was beating again for the first time since Wednesday morning.

“Honestly, I used to really like Jonny Craig, but if you ask me, he can only sing in the key of A, and he tries way too hard anymore. I honestly do not like Slaves at all,” Sam said, handing me my bag while his co-worker and I both vehemently agreed with his assessment. (I was still a fan of Jonny when he started Slaves and even then I was like, “Ew, this is not good at all.” It makes it easier to not support him anymore, that’s for sure.)

“I was a huge Jonny Craig fan-girl for years and years, but I finally divorced that whole scene,” I said, and we all laughed about that together and I gave Henry this frantic look that screamed, “DO WE HAVE TO LEAVE SO SOON? CAN’T YOU PRETEND LIKE YOU WANT TO TRY ON 18 PAIRS OF VANS?!”

As we turned to leave, Sam said it was always great to meet another Dance Gavin Dance fan and that if I needed anything, come back and ask for him. I thanked him and as we walked back out to the car, I was like, “WAIT WHAT DID HE MEAN BY ANYTHING?!”

His favorite DGD songs are Carl Barker and Tree Village, in case you were wondering.

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’re decompressing at the Country Inn in Lancaster, with a little bit of time to kill before the Silverstein/Emarosa show tonight so here is a quickie. 

I try to make the most out of my lunch breaks at work. It’s when I typically churn out the RIP GLENNS and now it’s also when I work on the Law Firm zine which has survived to see a second issue! I tread carefully with these because they’re fun, most everyone seems to enjoy it, and I don’t want to cross any lines that’ll get my DIY printing press shut down. 

In this current issue, I interviewed one of the mail room guys, had a feature on our old co-worker Nina (“Hello From the Other Side” lololol), gave Chris a full-page spread for his mixtape, and concluded with a SPOT THE DIFFERENCES using a picture that Patrick provided—a screenshot from when he was accidentally on the news after walking past a murder investigation! Amber1 was the first one to find all the differences so she got an Easter bunny lipgloss and a tiny succulent as her prize. 

 These things bring me great joy. And also much stress. 
And my #greetingsfromerinslunchbreak project is going well! I think I’ve mailed 12 so far. So much happens when I’m outside on my break!
  
 
LASTLY, I made an Easter picture for our processing group! I didn’t get a chance to make one last year (probably because I was still in a depressed stupor from BARB quitting), but in previous years, I made a Noah’s Ark, a shepherd (Glenn) with his sheep, and a really epic Last Supper. This was the first year I got to include myself! My employee ID photo is from 2010 and my hair was soooooo dark then—I don’t miss that at all. 

I was cracking up so bad at my desk while making this and Glenn just mumbled, “Wow.” But then when I showed him the final product he LAUGHED. 

Oh, small pleasures. 

Leaving work on Friday, I could barely contain myself inside the elevator. My co-worker Mitch was kind of side-eying me so I blurted out: I’M GOING TO SEE CARLY RAE JEPSEN TONIGHT!!!”

Pregnant pause.

“Wow,” Mitch laughed. “Was not expecting that!”

Even though I like a wide array of music, and am constantly dipping in and out of genres and decades, I don’t think it’s a surprise that most people likely associate me with heavier, “screamy” bands. And that’s fine, because I love that stuff. But I’m not one of those music snobs who thimbs her nose Top 40. (Although there are several artists, and I use that title very loosely, who I really honestly can’t stand and truly believe are ruining the face of pop music. COUGHMEGHANTRAINORCOUGH)

I have always unabashedly loved Britney Spears and have supported Lady Gaga from the beginning. I don’t even hate Justin Bieber. ANS I LOVE THAT FUCKING CAKE BY THE OCEAN SONG, OK??

However, pop music doesn’t usually tug on my heartstrings like my main bands do. It’s just something nice to listen to every now and then when I just need something on in the background.

And then came CRJ.

You guys. I wish I could put my finger on what it is about her that turns my heart into a clump of sweet sweet gummi bears.  Particularly her most recent album which I’m sorry to tell you, it is a motherfucking pop masterpiece. It makes me feel like I have roller skaters right the fuck back into my charmed childhood, before everything got shitty, when all that mattered was puffy-painted sweatshirts and side-ponies. She makes me feel pure, unadulterated happiness, and that right there brings real, genuine tears to my eyes.

You can make fun of me all you want. Constantly remind me that you “don’t get it.” Smirk at my excitement. I don’t really give a fuck. She’s not my guilty pleasure, because I feel zero ounces of guilt when I listen to her music. She is my PROUD pleasure.

Interestingly, she has some major crossover appeal with others in my scene. Anytime there is a news post about her on Absolute Punk, the fan-girling is strong. She is a breath of fresh maple-scented air in a pop scene over-saturated with twerking and vulgar schticks and sexually explicit lyrics that you pray your nine-year-old doesn’t understand.

She is wholesome without being lame or cheesy.

She is a goddamn Canadian princess.

And I couldn’t get to Mr. Smalls fast enough!

Chooch and I have had our tickets since the moment they went on sale. I had a feeling it would sell out since Mr. Smalls isn’t very big, and it did.

After feeding us, Henry dropped Chooch and me off down the street so no one would see us getting out of Daddy’s car. We had about 20 minutes to kill before the doors opened, but the line kept growing so even though I was shivering in my too-light jacket, I was glad I didn’t have Henry drive around the block one more time.

Originally, I figured Chooch and I would snag a spot in the back, right where the bar is separated from the main floor, so that GOD FORBID Chooch could sit down on the floor between bands since his limbs are SO WEAK from being A NINE-YEAR-OLD. But then I saw that there was some prime real estate along the front of the stage, but over to the side a bit, so I dragged him over to there and at first he was like, “WHAT WHY” but then he saw that at least he could lean against the stage to take some of the weight off his WEARY BONES.

For fuck’s sake, Chooch.

We made small-talk with the burly security guy who was guarding the emergency exit/staff only door which leads back stage. Apparently, I was the cut-off for that side of the stage, because when some broad came over later and leaned past me to look toward the center of the stage, the guy was like, “You can’t stand there.” She explained that she was trying to see her two daughters that she left alone in front of the stage and he was like, “UNLESS YOU’RE GONNA BE WORKING HERE, MOVE.” Yeah boy!

Before the show even started, Chooch went to the bathroom twice. He’s obsessed with public restrooms. The first time was legit, he honestly had to pee, but the second time was because his gum made him sick and he supposedly went to the bathroom to puke.

Guys, I don’t know how much truth there is to this. Mostly because I tell Henry all the time that I was “SO SICK THAT I PUKED” and 99.99999% of the time, this might be a slight exaggeration.

Fairground Saints started promptly at 7:10. I would have guessed they were from Nashville—two guys, a girl, three acoustic guitars, and an alt-twang sound. They were pleasant-sounding, and the girl had one hell of a fucking voice, but it wasn’t really my thing. Chooch loved them because they covered Justin Bieber and he was so relieved that he had enough battery life left on his phone to get a video of it.

He’s clearly my kid.

The second band was Cardiknox and I definitely liked them a lot more because SYNTH. I love most anything involving synth. And the singer, Chooch’s new lady love, was really entertaining and high energy. She kept singling out one of the guys standing near us and it was adorable.

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

I thought Chooch for sure would have liked Cardiknox more but he was blinded by his love of Fairground Saints, especially after they not only liked his Instavid, but also went back and liked a picture of his cat, Drew. They have his heart now, probably forever.

Also, Chooch was starting to get super ornery by this point because it was getting more crowded and he claims the guy next to him kept pushing him into the stage but I was standing right there and I swear to god this never happened. That guy and his girlfriend were pretty mindful of the fact that a kid was standing behind them, and the girlfriend even slapped her hand over her mouth when she said “fuck,” and I was just like, “Please, if you knew the words that came out of this child’s mouth, you’d blush.”

Sometime during Cardiknox, two younger girls (they were definitely under 21 based on the Xs on their hands, and at first I thought they were middle-school aged but then I found them on Instagram afterward (NOT INTENTIONALLY! They came up when I was perusing the #gimmielovetour hashtag the next day) so now I guess they might be around 17 or 18…either way, the one girl who was right behind—I guess the security dude made a concession for her–and she was SO FUCKING IDIOTIC. Like, I get it — we’re all excited. We’re all screaming. I was screaming my fucking face off. But her scream was RIDICULOUS. Like one step down from a dog whistle. And right against my skull.

Then she would do these death metal growls and I kept slowly turning around to get a glimpse of her because for a while, I honestly couldn’t figure out exactly what was behind me.

Other than that, though, the show was AMAZE. When CRJ came out, I shed actual tears and started pushing Chooch excitedly. He was really excited too and had his phone out, ready to record her entrance.

She came out and immediately started singing “Run Away With Me” which is one of my favorites and oh, if only she had been performing at a roller rink — that’s the only way the night could have been any better. She sounded amazing, you guys, and she was such a joy to watch that I don’t think my eyes were dry for even a second of that show.

I’ve never really fan-girled over a pop star before, so this was new territory for me. But I was right there with all of the teen girls and gay guys, shrieking and thrusting out my arm in hopes that my fingers could even just slightly graze CRJ, even if it was just the sleeve of her shirt. AT LEAST IT WOULD BE SOMETHING. And also proof that she’s not a holograph.

BAE!

During “Tonight I’m Getting Over You,” I noticed that she had tears streaming down her face, and she continued silently crying for the next two songs. It was extremely intimate and touching so then this made me cry even harder because crying is like yawning for me: if I see someone crying in real life, I will start crying too without being able to stop it. IT’S MY BIGGEST CHARACTER FLAW. Seriously, it’s hard to maintain my misanthropic asshole persona when I’m fucking crying all of the time, ugh.

I’m crying again.

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There were grown men who looked dangerously close to flinging themselves off the balcony in sheer ecstasy during “Call Me Maybe.”

Chooch and I were desperate to get her to touch us! Before the show started, one of the stage guys came over and told the people next to us that they had to move their stuff off the stage. We were like, right on the side, where the stage winged out a little, and he said, “Carly walks out here and I don’t want her to slip.”

So of course we were all like OMG SHE’S GOING TO WALK OVER HERE AND BE STANDING LITERALLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF US?!?!

But that guy was a goddamn shit-sucking liar because she never came over that far. She never got any further than the guys who were two heads down from us, we were SO CLOSE yet SO FAR AWAY. But I swear to god there were multiple times when she came over and smiled RIGHT AT me and Chooch. Right at our dumb idiot faces.

I was goo. A pathetic wad of goo.

Meanwhile, Screamy behind me kept death-growling, “I LOVE YOU” which ricocheted off the back of my head, along with her phone which she kept shoving past my face in order to record CRJ’s every last movement. I mean, OK—so was I, but I had my phone at chest level so it wasn’t blocking anyone’s view!

That girl was seriously the only blemish on the whole entire night. Not even Chooch’s supposed “mental breakdown” toward the end of the show managed to put a damper on my spirits. (He was oddly preoccupied with the fact that he had a knot in his shoelace and it wasn’t until he finally untied it on the sidewalk after the show that he was finally able to exhale and go back to being normal. It’s always something with him.)

After the show, we went straight to the merch booth so I could buy a shirt and my record-snob son wanted E.MO.TION on vinyl. I’ve created a monster. It was after 11 by the time we made it outside of Mr. Smalls, and we were originally just going to leave, but then a group of older men started talking to us, asking Chooch if he got his record signed, etc. We said no, and they pointed out that there was a line forming outside of CRJ’s bus, which pretty much ended right where we were standing. It didn’t seem very long, and even though there was no guarantee that she would come out, I told Chooch I would absolutely die if I missed a chance to meet her. He wasn’t very pleased because he was cold and cranky and I like CRJ more than he does (seriously, if this was Christofer Drew’s bus, though…). I think he was also getting pissed that these guys kept talking to us while waiting for their Uber. The one man told us that he had literally flown in just for the show last minute and got there right as she started singing the second song. Then he showed us pictures of his twin grandkids and Chooch was like, “OK WOW GR8 BYE” but I thought these guys were very nice and I appreciated their flamboyance. It was a refreshing change from the usual too cool for school crowd I usually find myself immersed in at shows.

After about 20 minutes, Chooch pointed out that people at the front of the line were taking pictures. I asked the tall guy behind me if Carly was out of her bus and he said, “Yep, she’s up there now” and I started fucking sweating and hyperventilating.

The line moved up quickly and smoothly; everyone was very respectful of her time and space, no one asked for more than they were entitled, and she wasn’t straight-up mobbed. There apparently was already a VIP meet-and-greet before the show, so she totally didn’t have to be available for us, but she still came out and that made me evict a few people from my heart so she could have some cozier real estate.

By the time it was our turn, I was a nervous wreck and thoroughly coated her with my word-vomit.

“OMG I JUST LOVE YOU YOU WERE SO GREAT TONIGHT I CRIED SO MUCH!!!” and she just smiled graciously and said “Thank you” after each of my psycho declarations. Then Chooch very calmly and nonchalantly asked, “Can you sign my record?” like it wasn’t CARLY RAE JEPSEN standing before us all petite and perfect with her little hat on and OMG I WAS STANDING NEXT TO CARLY RAE JEPSEN ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME SHE WAS JUST IN THE LIVE TV PRODUCTION OF GREASE SINGING WITH BOYZ II MEN!??!?!

I really hate having my picture taken but there was no way I was missing this chance, because who knows if it will ever happen again, so I whispered, “Will you take a picture with us…?” and she was all, “Sure!” and I gave my phone to the tall guy behind us and only vaguely remember CRJ draping her arm over my shoulder because I was pretty much experiencing a blinding out-of-body moment and by the time we found Henry and scrambled into the car, my hands were shaking so bad that I almost dropped my phone while trying to show him our picture and he just mumbled, “You’re sad,” but then he was trying not to smile so I think on the inside he was like, “Holy shit my kids met CRJ!”

Not to be That Person, but I really did lose my fucking shit when she sang “Call Me Maybe.” I am overcome with beautiful memories and happy feelings every single time I hear this song. I’m reminded of the Summer Olympics, extreme laughing fits, ROSS’S BLACKBERRY…it’s just pure, unadulterated summer joy. So, try to belittle me for liking a “one hit wonder,” but it won’t work. My love for CRJ is real and I’ll own it forever. No shame, no guilt, no regrets.

I was home alone on Christmas Eve, feeling slightly under the weather.  Naturally this meant I felt compelled to exercise. I went to YouTube because there was a hip hop workout I did the other day and I wanted to see if that broad had any others. When I typed in her name, even though she’s Spanish, one of the first things that came up was SUPER FUN K-POP DANCE WORKOUT.

Oh shit, hold the phone, I screamed out loud to Trudy and my succulents. This was bound to be good. Plus, I went through a heavy k-pop/j-pop phase back in 1999-2002 when I used to get numerous foreign TV channels, like ZeeTV, included in my cable package (then they switched those to premium, good one, Comcast). My favorite programming was obviously the music videos, followed closely by the soap operas. But the music videos were like soap operas in and of themselves — especially the slow jams, so depressing and full of tragedy. I kept a blank tape in the VCR so I could record my favorite videos. Sometimes I would even opt to stay home when my friends were going out to the bar, because I was in so deep.

The bars don’t play k-pop, you guys.

My all-time favorite was Lee Juno’s “Return of the King of Dance.” Years later, I found the CD on some Asian music webstore, and I was sorely disappointed when it arrived and I realized that that was the only good song on the whole disc.

OK, so back to Christmas Eve. When I saw this workout video on YouTube, I forgot all about the coughing fits I had been having all evening and immediately pressed play to be sucked into a world of shiny Korean choreography.

IT IS A GODDAMN DREAM.

And somehow, I’m actually able to do it! I am never able to do any dance-based exercise workouts. Don’t even come near me with Zumba. I will fall and break my face. But k-pop fitness? It’s like it was MADE FOR ME.

My gateway into this niche of the fitness industry was through YouTube user SarahKayPop. She puts together 35 minute compilations of various k-pop dances that are on YouTube, and she even throws in some of her own in there too, which she performs in her bedroom. Not intimate at all. But through Sarah, I found the official KpopX Fitness channel and it hasn’t just consumed me—it has carefully digested me and shit me out as a better, more Korean version of myself.  It is honestly the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning, all I talk about at work, and how I end my days — pushing the coffee table out of the way and k-popping my fat face off.

I AM SO GOOD AT IT!

And I know this will come as a huge shock, but I’m following KpopX on Instagram now and have basically imprinted with their creator, #MaddyLim.

“Who’s that?” Henry mumbled last night during my post-dance routine of continuing to scour YouTube for the next day’s lineup while Henry watches with glazed eyes from the couch.

“THAT’S #MADDYLIM, THE CREATOR OF KPOPX!” I screamed. How did he not know this by now? But then he was laughing, which means that he was just trying to piss me off, which is really stupid considering my muscles are now inflated with gangnam style and cat ears.

I don’t have a huge floppy bow yet but Henry will make me one. He hasn’t said that he will yet, but come on.

One of my favorite moves requires one to put the hands together in the shape of a heart above the head and then lean forward while furiously shuffling the feet. It probably burns at least three Jollypong bag’s worth of calories. I tried to teach this move to Glenn on Monday morning but he wouldn’t get up from his desk, saying that it was “stupid” and telling me to “stop.”

I can’t explain how it makes me feel,  but I imagine rainbows squirting out of my feet and cartoon birds fluttering out of my armpits. So at least you know how it looks. I think that I need to set up some cardboard cutouts of toadstools around the room, though. And I should probably also get a nurse costume. (One of the instructors wears one, OK?!)

The other day at work, I went to the official KpopX website and learned that I can become a certified instructor online for only $189.99! Then I tried to order one of their official shirts, but shipping to the US is not available! WHAT WHY!? So now, just like when I didn’t get a Chiodos hoodie for Xmas 2007, I’ll have to make my own I guess.

And even though I’m not certified yet, I took liberties and taught Henry how to do this exhilarating and mildly perverse routine to Psy’s pony-play inspired hit “Daddy.” He was not filled with such wow like I was, though. I guess KpopX isn’t for everyone, surprisingly.

But so far, my favorite routine is to the crowd-pleasing banger “Hot Issue” by 4 Minute. I might know the moves by heart now, is all I’m saying. That song came on the other night when I was forcing Henry to fall asleep to a k-pop Spotify playlist and I nearly flipped him out of the bed, that’s how hyper I became. IT’S THE MOTHERFUCKING JAM.

****

“You have a really addictive personality,” Amber² laughed after I gushed about KpopX on a boring Tuesday afternoon at work.

“Yeah,” Todd agreed. “You go from one thing to the next so fast! For example, you never talk about your plants anymore.”

YES I DO AND THEY’RE SUCCULENTS OK.

****

Henry came home from the store last night when I was in the middle of a “Big Bang” routine and I went ape shit on him for corrupting my zone.

“I’m sorry!” he yelled. “I didn’t think you would STILL be kpopping!” Bitch please, I was going on 75 minutes straight by then. Maybe call ahead next time.

I also really like the k-pop routines by Crazy Sock TV, in case you care.

Sorry Paul Eugene, but I’m putting a moratorium on the gospel aerobics. Jesus ain’t got shit on these k-pop bitches.

We tried so hard to keep it a secret, but Robbie pretty much figured out right away that me, Henry and Nikki were taking him to Cleveland last Wednesday for the Craig Owens show. Henry and I weren’t sure if it was going to work out at all, since it was in the middle of the week, but Nikki super slickly went behind Robbie’s back and asked his boss to give him the day off. Once that happened, Henry bought the tickets and then we tried to come up with a plausible explanation as to why we were going to Cleveland on a random Wednesday, but stupid Bandsintown alerted Robbie that Craig Owens was playing that night, so he knew. It’s a lot easier to pull one over on our gullible 9-year-old, so I sometimes forget that everyone else wouldn’t just go along with a mysterious road trip without doing some serious investigating on their end.

Robbie loves Craig Owens even more than I do, so we thought it would be the perfect birthday/Christmas gift for him. Especially when our friend Jason mentioned that he could possibly get us access to the video session that was going to filmed earlier that day in the Alternative Press office. That meant we had to leave early on Wednesday, which really set off the alarms in Robbie’s head. Nikki said he was practically bullying her into telling him what was going on.

Surprises are so delightful!

We left an hour later than originally planned because Henry is the worst. Do you know how hard it was to sit in my house waiting for Henry to come home, when there were all these awkward vibes because everything was so suspicious?

< insert boring drive to Cleveland here. >

We arrived in Cleveland sometime after 1 and Nikki woke up from a nap.

“I had a dream that I asked Craig Owens how tall he is and he said he’s 5’10”,” she said. We all agreed that we felt like he was taller than that, so Robbie quickly googled and announced that Craig is, indeed, 6’2″. I wonder if Craig ever thinks about all the rando conversations his fans probably have about him on a daily basis. I mean, even Henry has talked about Craig’s hair A LOT over the years. He’s kind of obsessed with it and will always be the first one to notice if it’s changed since the last time. His only takeaway from the D.R.U.G.S. show we saw in 2011 was that “Craig’s hair is darker.”

We had just enough time to grab coffee and a quick poke through my favorite store of all time, Flower Child:

I had just ended a conversation with the owner about how much I love her shop and how I cried real tears when I was there a month ago and it was closed, when Henry got a text from Jason that said, “Get here NOW.” Henry barked, “Let’s go!” and whisked us out of the shop, which probably looked like we were the clumsiest shoplifters EVER. I can only imagine how suspicious we looked, tearing out of a shop that we had just entered a minute before, but I was too excited to be embarrassed.

“Where are we going?” Robbie asked nervously.

“We have to meet our friend Jason real quick. I have a case of root beer for him,” Henry stuttered.

I mean, that was partially true! Jason is a true root beer connoisseur and especially likes it bottled. So Henry brought a case of root beer from the Faygo Factory for him. This is why Jason likes Henry better than me. Well, that and because Henry doesn’t bring up Jonny Craig every single time we hang out with Jason.

And Robbie knew something was about to happen. He met Jason last year when we were in town for a Chiodos show at House of Blues; Jason met us at Melt for a quick hello and Robbie remembered that he was affiliated with Alternative Press, so even though there is no signage outside of the building that houses the office, it didn’t matter.

The jig was up!

“Don’t freak out,” I whispered over my shoulder as Jason keyed us through the AP door and led us into a back room where cameras were set up and Craig Owens was sitting on a stool, strumming his guitar and warming up.

Robbie’s face looked like this pretty much the whole time: somewhere frozen between a smile and a stroke.

Jason got chairs for us and basically bent over backward to make sure we were comfortable—he is such a stand-up guy! As if he hadn’t already done enough for us, now he was trying to give us more things. We promised him that we were fine, and after reminding us to turn off our phones, he retreated back to his office, because deadlines.

I accidentally took this blurry photo as I was tucking my phone away:

Jason warned me that the chair he gave me was kind of broken, which didn’t stop me from leaning back in it, and further and further back until I realized I was falling. I caught myself before anyone noticed and made sure to lean forward for the rest of the afternoon because I didn’t want to be That Person who disrupted filming.

Ugh, that would be so typical of me!

Craig performed two songs with his friend Pete: one was a song that was so brand new, Pete was having difficulties because they literally had just written the music for it the night before. Craig said it will be released sometime in 2016 as part of his new, top secret project. TOTALLY PIQUED.

The second song was off the new Before Their Eyes album which he produced. Both song were fantastic, but that first one was a stunner. Those two songs were being filmed for Periscope, but we got to hear the first one several more times when he was asked to play it again but with a more detailed introduction other than just, “This is…a song” which is how he had originally introduced it, ha! I love Craig.

When he finished performing the songs, he walked back over to where we were sitting so that he could join his friend (NICOLE RORK who is an exceptional photographer and I was low-key fangirling when I saw her there) and come up with some facts for the 10 Things You Didn’t Know segment that he had also agreed to film.

“Did it sound OK, guys?” he asked us, and we were all like, “HHHHHHHNNNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHH YES.”

OK, Henry was way calmer than that.

I don’t want to give anything else away since these video segments haven’t been posted on Alternative Press’s website yet, but I just have to say that Craig is ridiculously interesting, multi-faceted, and extremely intelligent. Listening to him answer questions was riveting. All the behind-the-scenes minutiae was actually fascinating and I’m so humbled that we got to take it all in.

After about an hour of filming, he walked over to us and held out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Craig,” he said with a friendly smile and not the forced kind that Henry always adopts.

I’m sure internally, we were all like, “WE KNOWWW OMG!” but I feel like we kept it together and somehow managed to introduce ourselves without causing a nose bleed or biting off our tongues. He asked us how the drive from Pittsburgh was and Henry gave his stock answer, “Fine. Fine” while I blurted out, “BORING” and I think Robbie was just giggling at this point. Thankfully, Nikki was there to break the ice by telling Craig about her recent dream about him and his height.

“Yeah, I’m pretty tall!” he laughed. “Actually, all of the Chiodos guys are like, over 6 feet tall,” he added, and we were all like, “Oh wow,” with batted eyelashes and flirty giggles because CRAIG OWENS.

Somehow I was able to muster the courage and enough of my voice to thank Craig for allowing us to sit in on that. Thank you, Craig Owens, for being a true gentleman and so gracious to your fans.

(I love that there’s a Cure issue two above Robbie’s head in this picture!)

Before walking out to the parking lot with us to get the root beer, Jason asked again if we needed anything. “Any magazines? Anything at all? No, you’re good?” he asked, and we assured him that he had already done so much for us. Seriously, thank you Santa Pettigrew!

We were about to leave when Craig passed us in the parking lot. Thank god Nikki had the good sense to ask him if we could take his picture with Robbie. He very jovially agreed, at which point we all just stood there.

“Erin, take the picture,” Henry hissed. SORRY! I was in a Craig Owens daydream bubble. Henry’s burly tone snapped me out of it and I was somehow able to take the picture without fumbling for my phone.

We told him we’d see him later that night, and with a big smile, he said, “I hope you’re wearing your singalong pants!” I laughed along with everyone else, but I couldn’t help but feel a tiny pull of paranoia.

“Do you think he said that on purpose?!” Nikki whispered on the way back to the car, knowing that Craig and I had a…disagreement on Twitter four years ago because I wrote a bitchy blog post about how I went to his solo show and he let the audience sing most of his songs while he just stood there and held out his microphone. Look, my cat had just died and I was really emotionally fragile OK?! Nothing could have made me happy on that night.

But this particular night was about to be so much better. And we determined later that he probably didn’t mean anything by his singalong pants remark, thank god!

Afterward, we had about 90 minutes to kill before the actual show. We drove to Coventry in search of food, since none of us had eaten anything since breakfast, not like it mattered, because it probably would have gotten puked up anyway. (I mean, except Henry’s. Nothing fazes Henry.)

Big Fun is next to Tommy’s, so we popped over at dinner, hoping to find some toys to buy for the show. Anyone who brought a new toy or stuffed animal to the show got a meet and greet wristband. Even though we already had our time with him that afternoon, we wanted to do our part in helping out underprivileged children. Except Henry. He was like, “I don’t need no meet n greet bracelet, fuck off!”

Saul Berenson is big fun.

We wound up just going to a nearby Target, where I bought Candy Land, and Nikki bought a Mr. Potato Head and an exorbitantly-priced stuffed pony, which Robbie picked out with complete disregard to the price tag.

“Oh wow, that sucks,” I said when she told us how much it ended up costing her. “Mine was on sale for $4.”

“Mine was on sale for $4!” Nikki mimicked, and we all laughed. But then we all agreed that it was nice to do something charitable but Henry wouldn’t know what that’s like.

Doors to the Grog Shop weren’t open, so we stood in line where I thought about all the things I should have said to Craig.

**********

Things I Wish I Had Said To Craig:

• OMG I’m super stoked for the new Hotel Books that you produced!
• I love Lomo Prieta too! I saw them open for Pianos Become the Teeth last spring and they blew my mind!
• [SOMETHING ABOUT JONNY CRAIG!!!!]
• Do you like Artifex Pereo????
• What is your stance on the whole Blue Swan music movement and would you ever consider working with any of the bands in that genre?????
• WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOREIGN HORROR MOVIE!?!?
• And in response to his ironic Juggalo tattoo inside his lip: HENRY WORKS IN A FAYGO FACTORY!

Today, we’re going to Cleveland with Henry’s son Robbie and his girlfriend Nikki for the Craig Owens solo show at the Grog Shop. It’s been a minute since I’ve seen Craig solo and I’m excited but super nervous because he’s always been one of The Big Ones in my life, you know? Some of his words are tattooed on my arm, so to say that I think highly of him is kind of an understatement:

My all-time favorite Craig Owens experience was back in 2009 when Alisha and I went to see him, also at the Grog Shop. That was such a fun day and one of my favorite memories of Alisha, so today is making me miss her tons!

I love his solo work, but I will always love him in Chiodos the best. Chiodos was like the gateway drug into me becoming a scene kid back in 2006, so I’m sure Henry has mixed feelings about Craig too, haha. I just pointed this out to him and he did that laugh-without-mirth thing that he does when he wants everyone to know that he hates his life and nothing is amusing.

This is what I live for.

From the very first moment I first heard Dance Gavin Dance almost 9 years ago, I was instantly smitten. I was already neck-deep in the post-hardcore scene, but this just sounded so different to me. I obsessed hard and it quickly became the official soundtrack of 2008-2009, to the point where Henry had become numb to it. Through numerous line-up changes (including three singers!), I have never given up on them. So when they announced a few months ago that they’re celebrating their 10 years as a band with a tour, I knew I had to go even though Jonny Craig’s band, Slaves, was going to be there and I absolutely cannot stand them (I actually despise the other guys in that band more than I hate Jonny Craig, so you know it’s real). I felt like a hypocrite though, since I’ve said many times that I wasn’t going to support a single thing JC does anymore, but then Kara reasoned that I shouldn’t feel that way about this, because I love DGD so much and JC is a part of their history. So, I decided that I would go and just deal with it.

And I’m so happy that I did! It was mind-exploding. In addition to Slaves, Strawberry Girls and A Lot Like Birds were also on the tour, which meant all three DGD singers plus one former guitarist could potentially perform together. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I missed that! And I am a super huge Kurt Travis fan kid, so getting to hear him sing with ALLB and then DGD in one night was almost too much for me to handle. It’s been over 5 years since I’ve seen him perform with DGD so I was in sheer Heaven.

And seriously, this 15 second Instavid from ALLB’s set gives me unlimited heart-flops and goosebumps:

DGD’s set started out with their current singer, Tilian, who I do actually love a ton and he has really breathed new life into DGD. I love the direction they have been going with him and I’m happy to see that he’s survived through two albums so far!

With Tilian, they played some songs from Instant Gratification and Acceptance Speech:

• Stroke God, Millionaire
• On the Run
• Strawberry Swisher, Pt. 3
• Death of a Strawberry
• Jiggler
• Variation

The crowd was pretty great all night, but it was nuts for DGD. Especially anytime Jon Mess starts screaming. He is fucking beloved and more than anything, he is the one I would want to meet someday even though this entire band intimidates me so badly. I just think he’s a literal genius, 100%. Even HENRY likes Jon Mess and has said more than once that he’s his favorite DGD member, past or present. For Henry to even seriously answer that question is a huge deal. It was fun watching him do a slow clap after every song, too. HENRY IS A FAN.

After Variation, they left the stage while the Instant Gratification banner fell, revealing another one with a giant “X” made from all of their album covers. And then everyone returned, with Kurt Travis and Zachary Garren replacing Tilian and the current touring guitarist from Eidola. IT WAS FUCKING AMAZING.

With Kurt, they played:

• Tree Village
• Rock Solid

• And I Told Them I Invented Times New Roman
• Robot With Human Hair 2 1/2

This video isn’t from the Cleveland show, OH WELL. The only one I could find from that one was terrible.

I still don’t like Jonny Craig for personal reasons that admittedly have nothing to do with his music and I’m not sorry for that, but I have to say that it was pretty amazing getting to relive some of my favorite moments of DGD history, and especially hearing this song, it was just unbelievable. Discovering DGD really changed the course of my musical tastes and I will forever attribute that to Jonny Craig, because it was his fucking stupid golden voice that hooked me from the very first second and forced me to pay attention. DGD definitely isn’t a band for everyone and the only reason I even gave them that first play was based on their band name. So yes, sometimes judging a band by their name pays off.

• Uneasy Hearts Weigh the Most
• We Own the Night

I remember seeing ALLB on tour with DGD a few years back and thinking that for sure Kurt would come out and sing “Uneasy Hearts…” with them, since that song has dual-singers, but instead, Donovan from Hail the Sun did the honors. But on this night, Jonny, Kurt, AND Tilian all took turns singing it and my head and heart could barely handle the fact that ALL DGD SINGERS WERE ON THE SAME STAGE.

The show ended with just Tilian-era DGD blowing the roof off the joint with “We Own the Night.” I just wish that Dayshell hadn’t been on the tour so that maybe DGD would have played longer, giving Kurt and Jonny more stage time. Also, I hate Slaves and literally stood with my back toward the stage during their entire set* (which, by some grace of God, was cut short) but I understand why they were there, at least. It made sense to bring out the past singers’ current bands, and Strawberry Girls, but as far as I’m aware, there isn’t a real connection with Dayshell and DGD.

*(I’m not going to lie, Jonny sounded fine during his set with Slaves but the rest of the band sounds like a tinny landslide of shit-filled pots and pans. I’m not even saying  that because I hate those douchebags. They honestly just aren’t a good band and it sounded like they were just playing the music for the same song 4 times.)

But oh for fuck’s sake, I just can’t stop replaying this night over and over in my head and smiling and crying and then thanking Henry for taking me to Cleveland on a work night and then buying me this sweet ass screen print!!

DGD is in my Forever Top 5 and I can’t tell you how many times a day I think about the future tattoo I’m going to get to honor them. But it has to be epic. With strawberries and robots with human hair and the art of Mattias Adolfson (with his permission, of course). Because this band has made the music that is fucking everything to me.

I’m still wearing my House of Blues wristband. LE SIGH.

When I was little, there was some broad named Maureen who was the local notary public, and as a kid, I had no fucking clue what that even meant, but that my dad would openly call her a dish.

I didn’t know what that meant that either. I mean, my mom explained it, sure. “It means he thinks she’s hot,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. I always thought it was a stupid way of saying that someone is hot.

It wasn’t until we got Trudy that I truly understood the sentiment behind the term. Because good Lord, my friends, my fucking Xmas mannequin is a goddamn dish.

Especially now that she’s all metallic green and draped in glowing lights and glittering garland. She is a fucking BABE SUPREME.

Finally, after nearly 20 years of pining for a mannequin to pile Christmas presents beneath, I finally had one in my house, my dream was being realized after all this time. No more Christmas trees, real or artificial, that made me feel like I was being untrue to myself. It might seem like a joke to you, but I’m sure there are psychotherapists out there who could draw some conclusions, connect from metaphorical dots, and give my addiction a name.

But for now, let’s just call what it is: my time to finally get down with a holiday like the rest of you.

And finally, Saturday evening was trimming time. I invited Janna and Corey because who better to celebrate the unveiling of Douglas Fir’s hot sister than the two people who are like, “No, this is normal. I mean, there will be wine though, right?”

Corey was already wound up before he even got here. Sadly, Janna saw this on Instagram (I THOUGHT SHE RARELY CHECKED IT!) so she was on to Corey’s plan. Oh well. There will be other times to lace her ‘Tussin.

I happily set out Angie’s cookie dough truffles, and Corey mistakenly thought that I cared enough to get them specifically for him and Janna.

“Pfffft, no!” I laughed. “Angie had extras and gave them to me after breakfast today.” Corey didn’t seem to care either way, because they were delicious and he kept making me text her to tell her.

And then it was, “TELL ANGIE I’M EATING ANOTHER ONE! HERE, SEND HER A PICTURE!”

Meanwhile, Corey’s contributions to the night was a pack of Toasty peanut butter crackers. He shared, at least.

Henry didn’t even have the boxes of decoration ready to go! So I had to berate him in front of our guests while he flared his nostrils before disappearing into the basement to fetch our whopping two whole boxes of Christmas decor.

We’re really into holidays.

While Henry untangled lights, I reminisced over the first time we bought a tree for the house, when Chooch was 4. I had never bothered previously because for me, it was No Mannequin, Why Bother? But then this awful thing called SOCIETAL PRESSURE happened and I though it was The Right Thing To Do now that I had a kid in preschool.  My mom actually bought a live tree for us from Home Dept and brought over some of my old baby ornaments and a shit ton of tinsel and then peaced out before Henry had a chance to complain. It’s hard to remember back to a time when my mom was still a mom, and that was definitely one of the last happy memories she gave me.

My friend Alisha came over to help decorate that year, and when I realized that we didn’t have a tree topper, I cut a star out of a disposable baking tin and then taped it to a McDonald’s straw.

I’ve been using it every year (except for the one year when I swapped it out for a Jonny Craig Angel topper, ugh) but I had to replace the McDonald’s straw two years ago.

I sent Alisha a picture of the tree topper (she lives in Arkansas now) and she was like, “Gee, you know that you can get an actual tree topper at Walmart, right?” But even though I’m not poor anymore, I will never throw this away! It has too much sentimental value.

Anyway, After Henry strung up the lights, I strangled her with one strand of garland and then basically pawned the rest off on everyone else because decorating shit makes me tired and the hockey game was on and I wanted to drink more wine.

The phalanges came in handy.

HANDY.

Earlier in the day, she was in the dining room. I forgot she was there, turned too fast, and got slapped by a hard green hand right in the face. It hurt so bad but I was like, “Trudy, I can’t hate you” so I tried to just laugh along with Henry, who unfortunately witnessed the abuse.

I put a Henry ornament right up in the crotch.

Speaking of crotch, I considered dressing her in a pair of granny panties, but laziness overruled the idea, so bottom-nude it is.

My dream is to get Henry’s mom JUDY to pose with TRUDY for this year’s Xmas card.

“Is grandma going to have her pants off, too?” Chooch asked.

“Oh god, no!” Henry cried.
  

And then Henry reluctantly took our picture. Chooch couldn’t decide if he was happy or not.

FATHER XMAS.

Corey and Chooch both aspire to be Vine famous. Chooch made this Vine without any of us paying attention and then Corey saw it and was like YOU TOTALLY HAVE THE VINE HUMOR DOWN! and now I think he’s trying to be his agent or coach or something. I don’t know.

Making another Vine.

Meanwhile, Chooch taught himself how to play the Tetris music on his keyboard, so it was the perfect lunacy soundtrack for Corey’s incessant gushing over the truffles. Over and over, faster and faster.  Our house is literally onomatopoeia for “pandemonium.”

You guys know he secretly loves this shit.  
Trudy from a stalker’s POV.

You can hear Henry gruffly bitching at Chooch in the background. Something about crackers.

Henry in his typical state.

Everything feels more homey now that Trudy’s around.

I struggle every year when the holiday season rolls around. Some years are easier than others. This past Thanksgiving, even though I chose not to do anything, was just another reminder of how abnormal things became after the passing of my grandfather. Most years, I try to fight back by going out of my way to celebrate with friends and the few family I have in my life.  But now that Trudy is here, I finally feel excited again. It’s like a new beginning! A new tradition born! THE MANNEQUIN THAT SAVED CHRISTMAS!

I woke up the next day more hungover than I was that time we dyed Easter eggs in 2011. So…total success.

In related news, I couldn’t stop thinking about Notary Publics last night in bed.

“What are they even?” I asked Henry, who was about 85% asleep by then. “All they do is like stamp shit right?”

And then: “Do you think I could be one?”

“Sure. Be whatever,” Henry murmured into his pillow.

“I think I need therapy,” I said in lieu of normal morning salutations.

“Well…yeah,” Glenn said, implying that this was the most obvious statement.

“No seriously, I’m so paranoid anymore that I feel like I’m going to have a nervous breakdown. Take this morning on the trolley, for instance…” and then I told him the story of the guy in front of me, this white thug-looking dude with a neck tattoo and all dressed up in a gray sweatsuit, who had two metal stick things that I went back and forth between thinking was either a part of a gun or a fishing rod. One of the sticks had rings on it, so who knows.

But he was doing stuff with them, prepping them, I don’t know. And at one point he was doing something with … Thread? String?

I’ve been like this, moderately-so, for probably the last 10 years, but lately the DANGER WILL ROBINSON portion of my brain seems to be usurping whatever dying area of rationality is left up in that dusty cavern and I’m controlled by wild flights of fancy and panic-inducing paranoia. My senses are particularly heightened while I’m downtown, and at least once a week I’m convinced that the person walking beside me has a bomb detonator in his hand, or the man with the casual stride behind me is a serial killer, or the tired man on the trolley is going to stab me and ruin my favorite sweater. (OK, that last one was a valid concern, you have to admit!)

This happens at home too. Let’s never forget the time I freaked out when an old man was knocking on my door because I thought he was a zombie.

There have been times I’ve come back to work from my lunch break early because things just didn’t feel right out there, like two days ago when I was on the phone with Henry and started to walk past this one building but a well-dressed man, standing alone near the entrance, sternly said  to me, “Ma’am, you can’t walk over here” and sent me packing to the other side of the street. I described the scene to Henry, who remained calm and unflappable.

“Maybe he just doesn’t like you,” Henry reasoned, but he did the same thing to the man in front of me!

Once I crossed the street, I pretty much ran as fast as I could because I was convinced that there was A Situation unfolding inside the building and that the man who yelled at me was SECRET SERVICE. He was dressed like he could have been, OK!? And he was staring up at the building like he was waiting for something to happen, and that’s when I noticed that one of the windows WAS OPEN!? I was actually on my way to the Point when this happened, and after that, I changed my mind because if something was going down in this building, I didn’t want to be trapped with the RIVER on three sides of me.

I went back to work, out of breath, and relayed my latest precarious situation to Todd and Glenn, who each answered with various versions of “You make this shit up.” And after I told them what building it was, I admitted that I only knew that because I sent Henry a picture of it so he could tell me.

“That’s the only believable part of the story,” Glenn said in his Yelp review of the most recent visit to Erin’s Delusion Theater.

Anyway, back to yesterday.

I texted Henry about the morning’s scene and he was like, “OK?” And then “You watch too much Homeland.” I wasn’t satisfied with his response, so I called him later that day on my break so that I could try to better paint the picture for him.

“COULD THAT HAVE BEEN A FISHING ROD MAYBE?!” I asked him, near-hysterics, praying that he would say yes and that I hadn’t been sitting in such close proximity to military-grade weaponry. “THE ONE METAL STICK THING HAD HOOP-THINGS ON IT!” It looked like it could have been that thing that stick down the barrel of shotguns. WHATEVER THAT THING IS. He had two of them!!

Henry considered this. “I guess it’s possible….” he said with little conviction, and then started asking me questions, like what color it was, and if it could have been fiberglass, etc.

“I DON’T KNOW! I’VE ONLY EVER SEEN CARTOON FISHING RODS!” I cried, and then Henry was pretty much done with the conversation by then, plus I was standing near all of the smokers and they were starting to notice my conversation at this point, so I figured it was time to say goodbye.

The most alarming part to me is that no one else on the trolley seemed to care that this guy looked shady as fuck and was taking up TWO SEATS with his backpack and SUSPICIOUS RODS. Never trust a motherfucker who needs TWO SEATS on public transportation.

I went back to work and tried to resurrect this topic because, like I said, I think I need therapy and spreading my conspiracy theories around the department is the closest thing I’ve got to that right now.

“Well, I haven’t heard anything about a mass fishing rod murder, so you’re probably safe,” Glenn sighed, and it was clear that he was done talking about it, too.

***

This blog post is brought to you by Google searches of “fishing rods” and “metal things that stick inside guns.”

ETA: My friend Regina has informed me that I was correct to assume that dangerous things were happening at that building because WINDOWS ARE FALLING OUT. She assured me that I wasn’t just being delusional. I told Todd and he was like, “Wow! I was really sure that you were just over-dramatizing the situation, but it actually is dangerous!”

SEE!?

I’m really excited to write about something different today, you guys! J/K. This is totally about another show.

But not just ANY show.

During the summer, when I was at the height of my Warped Tour frenzy, my favorite thing to do was watch YouTube videos of it. There was this one YouTuber who was on the entire tour, making videos for one of the labels. I can’t remember which one exactly, but I want to say it was Fearless. Anyway, he was funny as fuck, way better than the “actual” YouTubers who were there as some strange, freak show attraction, so I subscribed to his channel and then made Henry watch all of his videos too.

Oh, his name is Jarrod Alonge. I guess that’s vital for people who enjoy details.

One of the videos he made was a series called Bless the Office, which was a spoof of The Office, starring the band Blessthefall. I have no beef with BTF, but I also never really paid much attention to them. However, these videos made me fall in love with them as people and I figured it was time to actually give their music a chance.

(These seriously make me laugh so hard. Being a scene kid is great, you guys.)

And then, about a month later, they announced that Slaves would no longer be a part of the BTF headlining tour, and that they had replaced them with EMAROSA.

FATE.

The show was at Mr. Small’s last Monday. It was Chooch’s first time seeing a show there, and we were all really excited because Emarosa is just the best. Henry was excited too, but his demeanor never changes. Bradley saw us when we were waiting in line and he called up to us and asked us how we were doing and Henry was the only one who was able to remain calm and answer him back like a normal human. Chooch and I gave each other the OMG DYING BYE looks and then giggled because we’re 12-year-old girls and someone noticed us.

(I mean, Chooch wrote about all this too but after I read it, I was like, “OK don’t act like this didn’t faze you, liar.” But look, it’s not easy writing about things that hit you hard!)

Once we were inside, the very first thing Chooch noticed was that a girl he knew from school was there with her friends. I think she was in 8th grade when he was in 1st, and they know each other because she was the classroom helper and he was wearing a Pierce the Veil shirt one day, so you know—-soul-mates. She kept waving to him and trying to get him to come over to her but he was Suddenly Shy and practically buried himself under Henry’s arm until Cane Hill started, at which point he began throwing horns with abandon.

I really enjoyed Cane Hill, but then Oceans Ate Alaska came on and my hysterical declaration of “Hashtag Obsessed!!!” was met with a heavy frown etched into Henry’s face. I’ve listened to them before, but hearing them live was a whole new ballgame. Those breakdowns tho. It’s like having the year 2008 wrap its big, warm arms around me.

Seriously, fuck Alaska.

The three of us moved all the way up to the side of the stage for Emarosa because we fucking love them, don’t you know that by now? It’s like #lifegoalsreached now that I get to see them with Chooch. He was 2 when I started listening to them back in 2008, so this is literally the stuff he was raised on and it makes my heart swell to watch him get all excited and smile so big when he sees them walk on the stage. I think this might be my favorite part of parenting, you guys.

Emarosa came out hard, but I could kind of tell that Bradley was feeling under the weather. But you would barely even know it because he was still running into the crowd, doing flips, and spinning Will upside down. He told us after the show that he thought he maybe had the flu, and I just can’t imagine what it must take to still get up on that stage and perform with such fire. I get a tiny cold and I can barely manage to SIT AT MY DESK and do a job which requires 0% LABOR.

So much goddamn respect for this band.

(The sound on this is terrible, but you know me and my compulsion for Instavids.)

After their set, Bradley came out and went right over to Chooch and hugged him, which was amazing. In my mind, we talked for a bit, but what really happened was Bradley tried to make normal conversation and Chooch and I were just like HNNNNNNG. Chooch somehow was able to ask him to sign his new Emarosa shirt, and Bradley teasingly sighed, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll sign your shirt.” Chooch looked at me and started laughing because he LOVES being teased.

Bradley asked if we were going to stick around, but Chooch made it clear all evening that he was leaving after Emarosa. But I stayed because I have this thing about leaving shows early. Plus, after the Warped Tour videos, I felt compelled to see Blessthefall at least once. So I quietly slunk back into the stage area and went straight to the bar for a cider now that my under-aged concert buddy was gone.

Stick To Your Guns was on next and they were OK. I did not feel strongly about them one way or the other, and that’s fine because Chooch was texting me the whole time from Henry’s phone because they apparently came back to Mr. Small’s after Chooch ate and he got to meet the rest of Emarosa and I’m SO JEALOUS because I still haven’t met the rest of them and here’s why: I AM A SHRINKING VIOLET when it comes to meeting bands that I really love. Ugh, I hate myself.

Henry told me later that Will asked him if this was their first Emarosa show. “Did you tell him that I saw them in Buffalo in 2008? With Pierce the Veil?!” I frantically texted back.

“No. You weren’t there, so why would I tell him that.”

“DID YOU TELL HIM ABOUT ME AT ALL?!?!”

“No.”

FUCK.

And then apparently Bradley was asking him what shows we’re going to next.

“DID YOU TELL HIM I’M GOING TO COPELAND AND EISLEY ON FRIDAY!?” I asked.

And he didn’t! He told him that the next show is Never Shout Never in February. Whatever, Henry. You’re so dumb.

“WAS IT SUPER AWKWARD TALKING TO THEM!?” I asked.

“Uh, no. They’re just regular guys. They were all extremely nice.”

Oh I could just die.

Henry said that Chooch was besides himself, couldn’t even talk.

I can’t blame him! I love that he already has such respect and admiration for musicians, at such a young age.

Meanwhile, I was still inside for Blessthefall and I don’t regret it. Even though I don’t know very much of their music, it was hard not to get swept up in the energy. Plus, Beau Bokan sprayed me in the face with his water and touched my hand, so it was a pretty fantastic night for this scene kid in an old lady suit.

God. That night and all of its feels. I will never, ever forget it.

The next morning, Chooch woke up on his own and promptly threw on his new Emarosa shirt. He couldn’t wait to show everyone at school, and now he wants to buy a frame to keep it in. Everything about this rules.

***

Sadly, Emarosa ended up dropping off the rest of the tour yesterday because of health issues, and I feel so terrible for them, yet really proud that they were able to play the shows that they could and win over more fans. Forever my faves.

I must be getting at going to shows alone because as soon as I saw that Better Off was coming to town with Pentimento, I just bought one ticket and assumed that Henry wouldn’t be joining me. My assumption was correct!

The show was at Smiling Moose, and those shows always have early start times because the Moose always has late night shit going on. Knowing I would have to go there right after work, I brought clothes to change into. My boss-person Rachel passed me on the way out of the bathroom after I changed and commented on my band shirt, which opened up my favorite can in the world: Cure worms. Turns out, Rachel’s brother-in-law grew up across the street from Robert Smith in England. MIND = BLOWN. And she said it so casually, too! I can’t believe we have worked together for over five years and this is the first I’m hearing about it.

I WORK WITH SOMEONE IS RELATED THROUGH MARRIAGE TO SOMEONE WHO PROBABLY SAW ROBERT SMITH CUTTING THE GRASS OR TAKING OUT THE GARBAGE AT SOME POINT.

Remember to breathe, Erin.

My personal Lyft driver picked me up from work as usual and then booted me out of the car at Smiling Moose around 5:45. The hardest part for me is walking in. I’m cool once I get inside and assess the room, but those several minutes leading up to that moment totally ravage my stomach. Typically, I’d go straight to the bar and get a drink to help calm my nerves, but this time, I went straight upstairs and waited for Quarter Crisis to come on. They’re a local band and it was their first real show, so there were some family members milling about and I was thankful for that because their elder status helped me blend in a bit. These types of shows tend to draw in the high school and early college crowd, which is strange to me because the music definitely isn’t young or immature in any way. People at work asked me what kind of bands were playing and I just gave them the vague “pop punk” response, but that’s really not what genre this is at all. I like to consider it modern emo, to be honest. And also, I hate labels.

Old people acting giddy for the family band. One of the Quarter Life guys was standing near me for a short time before they were ready to play, and a woman who I assume was his mom kept trying to get him to just please stay at her house after the show. He was all, “Look, I appreciate it, honestly, but I have class at 9am.”

“So, you can leave at 7!” she countered, so this is where my excellent deductive reasoning skills figured that he must go to some college outside of Pittsburgh.

“I’ll be fine!” he promised. “I’ll drink a lot of coffee tonight, I swear.” This didn’t seem to satisfy her but then one of his bros showed up and bro-hugged him so she sighed and then started annoying her granddaughter about taking pictures of the show and the granddaughter snapped and said, “Grandma, staaaahhhp! I will just take pictures with my phone! God!” because I guess grandma didn’t know how to use her camera, who even knows with grandmas these days.

Anyway, the band had some sound hiccups during their set, but I still appreciated them for what they are and was glad that I was there to help out fill out the room some (or, with my girth, A LOT). My favorite part was when the singer pointed out that his older brother and dad were filling in and that’s when I noticed that the dad behind the drumset could have easily have been GLENN.

I DIED.

Me, leaning against a wall, cracking up so hard that my ghost gave up right there and reverse-slurped right out of my mouth.

We had a fun convo about it this morning at work!

Meanwhile, I had scarfed down a cheese sandwich before leaving work that day, having the foresight to actually prepare something before leaving home that morning, knowing that I wouldn’t have time to eat a real dinner before the show. Because I ate it so fast, I kept burping up cheese and mustard, so you’re welcome, anyone standing close enough to me to catch a whiff of my regurgitated culinary wizardry.

Next up was Carolyn and Caleb, but every time one of the other bands would give them a shout out, I thought it was some variation of Carrots and Kale. They were….OK. Inoffensive. Nice, complementary voices. But, kind of boring and too twangy at times. Also, “Kale” resembled that d-bag Pittsburgh Dad (if you’re not from Pittsburgh, he’s a “comedian” who makes parody videos of stereotypical Pittsburgh dads, and I have yet to find a single one of them even mildly humorous, but people here flip their shit over him for some reason) so I immediately felt inclined to dislike him. They also seemed to take themselves too seriously.

Sterile and bland. Their Bob Dylan cover was tight though and I don’t even really like Bob Dylan.

I wish Carrots would have sung some things on her own instead of just being Kale’s accessory.

There was a girl standing alone near me and part of me thought, “MAYBE SHE IS HERE ALONE TOO AND YOU SHOULD SAY HELLO I AM HERE ALONE AND SHE WILL SMILE AND SAY OH THANK GOD ANOTHER SINGLE DAME!” and then you will become besties and go to every show together from then on until you realize that the reason she kept tossing furtive glances over her shoulder is because she was waiting for her actual friends to arrive and of course she wasn’t alone because why would she be and also no one has said “dame” in a hundred years.

Also, I was the only girl there not wearing some combination of olive, maroon, black and cream. Hot pink Cure t-shirt up on this bitch’s torso, thanks.

A Will Away was completely unexpected. They had some major technical difficulties which prevented them from starting on time, so their set got cut short, and that was a shame because they had That Sound, you guys. The vocals and the music and the lyrics, sad boy music reppin’! I wish that Carrots and Kale hadn’t been in the line-up, affording A Will Away some more time.

I think “Home” was my favorite.

I bought their EP after the show and I’m already looking forward to seeing them again!

And then it was time for Better Off! I didn’t get any pictures of them because I was too excited and caught up in the music, OMG can you imagine. The sound was questionable in the beginning, but it gradually got better (I have issues with the sound at Smiling Moose no matter what — the room is so goddamn small and the sound is actually too loud at times and vocals can be hard to hear). I was really feeling it hardcore, especially when they launched into “Dresser Drawer” WHICH IS MY FAVORITE:

And cue more technical difficulties. They ended up having to cut their set short after like, I don’t know, FOUR SONGS. I was pretty wrecked, but I have faith that I will see them again real soon because I’m basically stalking them on every social media site so that I don’t miss a single thing. This is why I don’t have time to keep up with the Kardashians. Too many bands to stalk.

Something about this band reminds me of the Jealous Sound, and that’s a really good thing. There’s not one bad egg on their new album and you should all go buy it right now. Or here.

OR MAYBE STREAM IT FIRST, GOD.

(That took a lot of effort so that’s how you know I feel strongly about this album. Go make yourself a PB&J and think of me while you eat it.)

Pentimento was headlining, and I have to admit that I’m only just a casual fan of these guys. I like their sound just fine, but last night was a game changer; now I’m on their jocks hard bro. It’s unclear to me how anyone could stand still during their set, but most of the room was going nuts and that shit is contagious. My legs are pretty sore today.

“Thanks for coming out on a school night!” Jeremiah, Pentimento’s frontman, joked. I cheered and laughed along with everyone else, but my 36-year-old self was crying on the inside. Please, I would never let something as insignificant as my age stand in the way of going to shows, but I’m not going to sit here and pretend that it isn’t occasionally awkward at certain times. At least this one seemed to have more college-aged people there.

I tweeted something similar to that after the show, and a guy who was there last night replied to let me know that he’s right behind me, turning 31 in a few weeks, and that he’ll forever be the old guy at shows. And I’m like “good for you, guy! don’t ever stop!” All I know is that I have definitely been having better experiences at shows in my 30s than ever before. This is going to sound amazingly contrary given the fact that I paint myself as someone who is really concerned about age (see also: last 8 sentences), but now that I’m older, I feel less pressure to look or act a certain way at shows, because who gives a fuck. I’m not there to impress a single person. Ultra Chill: Unlocked.

Later on, Jeremiah gave a very heartfelt mini-speech about how they aren’t sure how much longer they’re going to have the opportunity to live out their dream, and how they never know if a show they’re playing is going to be their last, but they never take it for granted. Hearing gratitude pouring forth from such a down to earth band really gives me hope that the scene isn’t entirely going down the shitter. And of course, I always picture my own kid up there and hope he can someday turn a passion into a career.

But then I started thinking about this in my own terms and had a mild panic attack because I don’t ever want to have that “last show” I go to but I know it’s inevitable, because hello mortality. My mind was reeling there for awhile until they started playing again and then everything in my head calmed down. You can’t do shit like that to me! My mind is fragile.

It’s such a good feeling when you go to a show alone and then once the show starts, you suddenly don’t feel like you’re alone anymore. It was a good crowd. A SPARSE crowd, but definitely good quality.  Youth might be fleeting, but I’m not going to let go to this part of my life that easily, not when going to shows makes me feel so alive and hyper.

And if I ever stop feeling that way? Stick a fork in me, because I’m done.

This concludes another predictable chapter of the Emo Erin Diaries. Thank you for yawning, I mean, reading.