With Erin & Chooch

I volunteered to work the last three Friday late shifts for August because we get to work those from home and I thought to myself, “Golly wouldn’t it be swell to spend some of these last summer Fridays with my little baby boy?!” 

Lol. 

On every one of these Fridays, we went out for breakfast. And that is what this blog post is about, ok?

On the first Friday, we walked to Orbis Cafe in Mt. Lebanon. It took about 25-30 minutes to get there but it was a beautiful, mild summer morning so we didn’t show up sopping with sweat or anything. Don’t worry. 

Hilariously, we had just been joking around at work about someone who listed “third wave coffee” as an interest on their resume, and now here I was, at a cafe that totally promoted that movement, what with their multiple, confusing brewing options. 

I panicked and just got a pour over,  because I was only familiar with that and French press. Then I had to choose a coffee blend and it was a real high-anxiety experience, almost as bad as waiting for public transportation or being randomly called on in class. 

I’m easily rattled ok?!

I’m conflicted with this place. The two women working that day were pleasant but the service was…..

Just not that wonderful. For starters, I stood at the counter the entire time the one barista was making my pourover because I noticed other people standing around too. I had Chooch grab us a table while I continued waiting. 

I stood there for at least 8 minutes before one of the girls walked out from behind the counter and brought Chooch’s breakfast to him (fruit and nut yogurt, and a bagel which he could have had at home but whatever). 

Apparently the people standing around were waiting for their to-go drinks. I didn’t have to be standing there at all, yet neither of the two baristas said anything to me, or even asked me if I needed something! THEY JUST LET ME STAND THERE LIKE A LOST SHEEP. 

So I went and sat down with Chooch, feeling stupid and completely spotlighted. It was about 15 minutes later when I had finished my coffee and he had finished his breakfast, when I started to hard-core wonder where the hell my breakfast wrap was. I kept looking over shoulder at the counter and couldn’t tell if it was still being heated up or what. 

“I mean, I DID order it right?” And of course Chooch made me doubt that my order had gone any further than just being a thought in my head. But then I started doing the math and confirmed that I definitely paid for it. 

I was about to go up to the counter and just ask for a refund (or possibly a CHEMEX) when one of the baristas started asking, “Breakfast wrap?” to every table she walked past. Then she met my eyes and suddenly realized that it was mine and she had FORGOTTEN ABOUT IT. 

“I’m so sorry!” she said, setting down the lukewarm wrap in front of me. It had obviously been abandoned on the counter for quite some time. 

I’d give them a free pass if the joint had been exceptionally busy but it was boasting a basic hustle and bustle that morning. 

They’re lucky I’m a sell-out and all up on the Third Wave Coffee train now because their pourover was EXCEPTIONAL and just delicious enough to not only drink black, but to forgive them for their wrap-dementia. 

I’ll be back for coffee but not breakfast. (Although their display of baked goods looked pretty good.)

For our second Friday, we were treated with a very heavy downpour. We tried to wait it out as long as possible but we were both swinging from hunger’s lunacy fringe so we left the house with our one shared umbrella and dealt with it. 

Everything was mostly fine. We walked past our old neighbor who didn’t go very far—just down the street—and a split second after cutely saying hello (she loves us and thinks we look like twins so take that everyone who always says that they see no resemblance) we were puddle-splashed in the most dramatic fashion by some FUCKSTICK in a truck.

Even if we had been double-umbrella’d, there was no protection from that one. 

So that was swell!

We reluctantly opted for Dorstop this time. I say reluctantly for two reasons:

• Dorstop is majorly over-rated and their figurative head is entirely too enlarged from That One Time they were featured on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives like 10 years ago. 
• We’ve been anxiously awaiting this one place called Parker’s to open. They used to be across the sreeet from Dorstop in Dormont, but they moved to a great spot on Brookline Blvd — basically still the same walking disgance for us but we spend more time walking on Brookline Blvd than we do on the street where they used to be located, plus this new spot is bigger! We always chide Henry because he’s never been to Parker’s so we treat it like it’s a club he doesn’t belong to. “You act like you guys were regulars there but you only ate there like theee times.” Twice, and both times were memorable because PARKER HIMSELF talked to us and he is AWESOME and no I DONT HAVE A CRUSH ON HIM OK I DO.

I mean. 

So we begrudgingly went to Dorstop and I was just really happy to get away from the rain. Of course it was packed, even on a weekday morning, because Guy Fieri ate there once, y’all. 

:|

Of course everyone turned to look at us when the bells on the door jingled and I hadn’t even told them Large Marge sent us yet. 

 Right off the bat, a synthetic ginger broad asked us how many in a disgruntled grumble, coupled with a very surly, “Follow me.”

I was ready to walk the fuck out because what a rude twat. But…rain. 

Luckily we had a nice young waitress who gave me coffee immediately and our food was fine. (I had potato pancakes; Chooch had an omelette which wasn’t nearly as good as the one he had at The Twist, the one that had him throwing down glitter on “Honk If You Love Artichokes” signs.)

It was fine but I would never recommend it nor would I take any out-of-town guests there. 

Which brings us to today…

Our last Friday Breakfast Club meeting for the foreseeable future. :(

Me: I’m sad that this is our last day of Friday Breakfast Club.

Chooch: We literally only went to breakfast three times, though—how is that a club?!

Ugh shut up Chooch. 

This time we went to Tom’s. We could have went there last week instead of Dorstop but we had eaten at Tom’s for dinner (WITH BARB, UGH BARB) two nights before. 

I originally suggested Cain’s Saloon which is open early on Fridays for breakfast (allegedly) but Chooch was all, “Um I feel like that’s a place that daddy would want to go to with us so we should just go to Tom’s” and I’m not a fool I know it’s because Cain’s is a longer walk and he was itchin’ to get home and play with his dumb friends. 

NO ONE IS BETTER THAN MOMMY, CHOOCH—NO ONE!!! I WONT LET THEM TAKE U AWAY FROM ME!

But yeah! Anyway! You know! Can’t go wrong with Tom’s! I had the Greek eggs Benedict and Chooch had eggs and home fries I guess. All I remember is him complaining about the nerve of restaurants that serve jelly packets with their toast, assuming that everyone uses jelly. 

Turns out Chooch is not a fan of jelly on his toast. 

“It just belongs on PB&J and nothing else,” he shared with me and I BET HIS DUMB FRIENDS ALREADY KNOW ABOUT THAT DONT THEY? I AM SO OUT OF TOUCH. 

I’m not having feelings about him starting sixth grade on Monday. Pfft. That’s you,  not me. 

UGH JUST GO AWAY. 

Henry had to work on Saturday so Chooch and I were on our own.

Well I guess we’re gonna have to take control

(On our own)

If it’s up to us, we’ve got to take it home

(On our own)

We went for a walk first thing in the morning, trampling down Brookline alleys and stumbling upon ANARCHIST GRAFITTI! We decided to try and figure out who the culprit was and then suddenly, Chooch spotted an aerosol can discarded over to the side of the alley. “Maybe that’s the cam of spraypaint!!! NO DONT TOUCH IT, YOULL GET YOUR FINGERPRINTS ON IT!” I screamed. 

“It’s just hairspray,” Chooch said, failing miserably at pronouncing Tresemme (ooh la la).

And then we moved on to other things, like judging peoples’ backyards. (Like ours is so great. Oh wait we don’t have one lol.)

We walked past CVS and as the automatic doors opened, Chooch yelled, “Do you love Bambi!?” Because that’s what he calls his dumb cat Drew these days. 

“No, and stop yelling at me!” I cried. 

“I wasn’t asking you, I was asking the people in CVS.”

Whhhyyy did this make me crack up so bad? I think we’ve been spending too much time together. 

Wait! I’m getting my walks mixed up! I think this was from our second walk, around noon, when we went to Cafe Noir for our traditional Saturday beverage. (I usually get a latte, Chooch gets hot chocolate. Look at how much I tell you!)

This is me, half-woke and makeupless, and Chooch, struggling to see without a YouTube video in front of his face. We were walking down the sidewalk on our block and one of the neighbors shouted, “Here come the Bobsy Twins!” So freaking accurate. 

Idiot Henry came home around 2 so we went to a late lunch at Nak Won Garden. Pittsburgh doesn’t have many Korean restaurants and this is the only one I’ve been to so far that has ttkeokbokki on the menu! It’s specifically a Korean streetfood but most of the restaurants in Toronto’s Koreatown had it on their menu. If I had a Korean restaurant it would for sure be on the menu, with a glorious photo of it on the front, skewers and all. 

This particular place has it listed as an appetizer and it was perfect to share between us. I derived great pleasure from watching Henry struggle with metal chopsticks. He can barely use cheap wooden ones, let alone the Korean variety! He was getting so irritated because I kept swiping things from him and then trying to feed him. 

Oh Henry. So put-upon. Ho ho ho. 

I don’t know what he ordered but I got soondubu jjigae with mushrooms and basically wanted to place my whole fucking face in that bubbling cauldron of Korean stew. 

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And don’t get me started on the banchan. I ate all the kimchi before Henry even realized it was there. 

Eating lunch was exhausting so Henry fell asleep immediately upon returning home and I took lovely, sentimental pictures of us together. 

Then I hoped he wasn’t actually dead,  because these pictures would take on a completely new meaning. 

I made this birthday card for my noncomposcards shop and Chooch was like, “Get away from me with that. You are so cringey.” 

THAT’S JUST WHO I AM. 

Chooch’s queen on her throne. After I posted this on Instagram, several wheelchair accounts started falling me. I’m moving up in the world! This was almost as good as the time I was contacted by this poet who wanted to use one of my photos of a unicorn masked-Chooch sitting in that very wheelchair, as the cover of his next chapbook. I said sure as long as he credited me and he promised to send me a copy of it in the mail. He did, eventually, and boy was it interesting. It was basically a collection of sex poems written by a paraplegic. Chooch’s first cover!

Saturday night ended with me watching the livestream of KCON LA and throwing a fit when the feed froze THE EXACT MOMENT Vixx started to perform “Shangri-la.” OF COURSE IT WOULD. That was the main thing I was looking forward to!

By the time I woke up Sunday morning, it was already on YouTube, so….

IN CONCLUSION, MY SATURDAY WAS PRETTY FULFILLING. 

I have so much that I want to preserve up here on thee ol’ memory website, and even though I blog every single ding dong day, I still can’t keep up. AND HOW, when my life is not really that exciting AT ALL. Also, my subscription feature is all jacked, so no one is getting notifications and for once it doesn’t seem to be Henry’s fault because he looked into it and other people have been complaining (where?) about the same problem, so even though I am straight-up pouring out my heart on here, barely anyone is reading it!

It’s always something.

But back to last Saturday! We went to Blake & Haley’s house in Monessen so Chooch and Blake could play Fundapop (the new Thingieball), and so Henry could agitate Calvin. That baby is so cute but I’m still just admiring from a distance. However, we’re all going to Kennywood on Tuesday and I intend on taking a million pictures of him not riding anything other than his stroller.

Lol, babies.

Anyway, I was super clenched watching Chooch, Haley, and Blake play Fundapop because they kept losing the ball in this super overgrown area and I kept saying things like YOU BETTER NOT LOSE ANY OF THOSE BALLS and YOU BETTER FIND THAT FUCKING BALL! and OK LET’S PUT THE GAME AWAY NOW WHILE ALL 4 BALLS ARE STILL INTACT!

I am 100% OCD over missing pieces.

Afterward, we left to get lunch before a war broke out (you know me and my hanger). We were originally going to go to Blue Flame because it was on our route home, but then we drove past The Twist in Monongahela and I casually looked it up on Yelp and was surprised to see that it was more than just an ice cream joint — I knew it had food but I figured, you know, hot dogs and nachos.

But no! The menu looked legit, so Henry turned around reluctantly—I think he was prepared for false advertisement resulting in me flipping tables. The last time we were here was when we did the Ice Cream Cannibal photoshoot with Chooch and the place seemed like it was closed forever then.

These pictures never get old!

You know how sometimes you walk into a restaurant and you just know it was meant to be? That’s how I felt on this day. I loved everything about it! LOOK AT HOW FUCKING CUTE IT IS!!! And shabby chic or whatever they’re calling this aesthetic these days is not even normally my style!

And the menu had numerous veg-friendly options, so I actually had a hard time ordering for positive reasons.

Chooch got the Greek omelet, and then after the waitress walked away, he asked us, “Do I like artichokes?” causing Henry and me to suck in our breath through our teeth  because that kid is so goddamn picky.

We figured FOR SURE he was going to just move around the omelet a lot on his plate, which is what he does when he wants us to mistake the motions for him actually eating. But no, his omelet arrived and he was like, “THIS is what artichokes taste like? HOLY SHIT, artichokes are GOOD” and then proceeded to demolish the whole thing, and it was one giant, motherwhompin’ omelet too! He ate every last bite and is now obsessed with artichokes. I hope this means that his palate (lol, I type palette at first, someone take my English degree off of me, oh wait, I never got the degree) is finally maturing a bit.

Meanwhile, I got this bitchin’ breakfast tamale thing and it was everything. So much better than the grilled cheese I would have ordered at Blue Flame because what else would I get at Blue Flame? It’s not often I walk into some small hick-town restaurant and have the opportunity to stuff my face with a tamale.

Henry ordered meat.

The service was a delight as well — what an unusual experience for us!

We ordered ice cream to go afterward and I was mad because Henry chose the same flavor as me which meant I couldn’t decide that I wanted his instead.

I forget what we got—something amaretto.

Chooch and his fancy palate got cannoli.

I don’t even remember else we did on Saturday but who cares because we managed to have lunch without fighting, and that my friends, WOULD NOT BE THE CASE THE NEXT DAY.

I’ll leave you with this wonderful song and video from AKMU which I have been meaning to post for awhile but you know, I just can’t get my shit together.

Today is Kwon Jiyong’s birthday (technically, it was yesterday since it’s already the 19th now in Seoul). I declared yesterday that I would buy a cake in his honor today, and it worked out perfectly since I’m working from home and also late shift, because that meant I could walk to Potomac Bakery and then decorate the damn thing on my break.

(Chooch declined my invitation but I dragged his dumb ass with me anyway, in a veritable monsoon. We got hardcore splashed by a truck on the way there and it was so humiliating but we perservered. ITS THE LIBERAL WAY!)

Chooch and I carefully, and after much deliberation, settled on a mildly festive cake with enough blank space on the white frosting to allow me to stick my decorations in it.

“Do you want it to say anything?” the lady at the bakery asked. Here is where I either say too little or too much, never just enough. On this day, I went with TOO MUCH.

“Well…” I hesitated, wondering if they would scrawl Happy Birthday in Hangeul for me. “Ok so this is weird but this cake is actually for our favorite Kpop singer—-”

“Ours?” Chooch screeched in a “don’t bring me into this!” tone.

“What?! You like him too!” I cried defensively, and then noticed the lady was totally confused and still waiting for an answer. “Oh, so I wanted it to say happy birthday in Korean, but I figured I would just do that myself—”

“Do you have your own icing? Because I can’t give you any,” she said, completely and utterly shutting down any further explanation about my deviant Korean cake decorating.

I quietly said yes and then started to say I was just going to print stuff out and stick them in the cake but any fucks she had left to give had practically clawed their way into her ass to escape any more of my crazy cake talk.

I came home and yelled at the computer for an hour because I couldn’t find a good Hangeul font to download for Photoshop and then I found one but all the actions are in Korean so I was just blindly clicking things and now I probably have a Kim Jung Un missile virus ugh.

*****

A few hours later, I realized that I should have bought a G and a D letter candles for the cake. I told Henry this just as he was leaving work and he was all WHY COULDNT YOU HAVE TOLD ME THIS EARLIER WHEN I WAS AT TWO PARTY CITY STORES?! (And that was completely unrelated to G-Dragon’s birthday. Don’t you know that I’m tacky AF and get my regular home decor from party stores?)

So he said he’d stop at Pat Catan’s and then I texted, “ooh see if they have Korean balloons too.”

Odds are in favor of us not speaking by the time we cut this cake. Especially after I referred to G-Dragon as my king and Henry whispered “oh my god.”

On the upside I can sing Happy Birthday in Korean now! (Well, the short version. There’s also some long-ass version that’s like the length of an actual song and my memory can’t handle that today.)

***

It’s 7:30. I’m still working. Henry printed out my cake decorations, and I have my GD crown adorning my warped pate.

JANNA IS NOT HERE YET.

Every time I open the door to look for her, passersby do a double take and then I remember that my crown flashes valiantly.

It’s now 8:00 and Janna still isn’t here. I have the cake all decorated and I told Henry that we don’t have to wait for Janna.

“She’s basically just coming for cake, so we can start without her. She doesn’t have to be here for the actual ceremony.”

“She’s so lucky,” Henry just mumbled.

***

OK! Janna got here so after I was done working, the celebrations got underway! I made Chooch invite his friend Jaden so it looked more like a party. Jaden seemed extremely confused and not amused.

Wow, we had MAJOR issues with the candles and Henry was like THATS ENOUGH! PLEASE STOP LIGHTING THE CANDLES BEFORE THE HOUSE BURNS DOWN.

The candles were melting so quickly that we didn’t even have a chance to sing Happy Birthday in Korean after I PRACTICED ALL FREAKING DAY.

Happy birthday, my King. I hope you had the most amazing 30th birthday of all time. <3

Heyo! Lori scheduled a belated birthday lunch for me last week, at a place of my choosing, and described the event as an opportunity for me to talk about all things G-Dragon. 

I accepted immediately, even though Wendy was invited too, ughhh. 

(J/K for anyone who takes my words literally.)

I’m awful at choosing places to eat downtown because I don’t eat out for lunch very often (habitual oatmeal/Cream of Wheat nosher here). But at the eleventh hour, I remembered that there was some ramen joint opening up down the street and a quick Google search of “ramen Pittsburgh” let me know that it opened a few weeks ago. 

Luckily, my suggestion was met with happy acceptance because Lori was under the weather and wanted something soup-y, and Wendy was just happy to not have to make decisions, probably. 

Obviously, I picked this place because it jives with my new Eastern palate. 

We got there around 12:30 and it was pretty empty, which was concerning. But…there’s construction happening right outside and past of their entrance is blocked by scaffolding, so we figured that was why. 

Hoped, anyway. 

Lack of diners aside, the decor was on point!

And I immediately bonded with the waitress, who came over to get our drink orders and said to me, “I love everything you have going on here,” while waving her hands over my teenaged accoutrements. 

TELL ME MORE. 

BUT WAIT FOR WENDY TO COME BACK FROM THE BATHROOM FIRST. 

You know who else would have hated this? Chooch. He despises that my teenage accessories garner attention. He’s always like, “Why can’t you just carry a normal purse like other moms? Like a beige one or something? Why are all of your purses like cartoons?”

Because I’m all about that animated life, boiiii. Step off. 

While we perished the menu, I was going on about how I’m not that annoying vegetarian who goes to restaurants and makes annoying requests and meatless demands. Meanwhile, I spotted something on the menu that had KOREAN PICKLED DAIKON in it and did you know I fucking love daikon? Well I do. Send me a basket of it for Christmas. 

But that dish had pork in it. 

There was another dish that was similar, but vegetarian. That should have been enough but it came with rice and it ramen like the pork dish, and I wanted the ramen because we were in a ramen joint. So I asked the waitress if I could either get the ramen version without the pork or the veg  one with ramen and I could almost feel Lori’s and Wendy’s joining forces in Eyeroll Unity while I could hear my voice being a few octaves higher as if that would make me sound friendlier in my Vegetarian Princess demands. 

We couldn’t do the first option because the sauce was pork-based (I appreciated that she knew that!) but she confirmed with the kitchen that the second option could be done with no problem. I thanked her profusely and prayed that she didn’t think I was some cranky asshole with an imaginary food allergy. 

Wendy did mention that it was my birthday though, so maybe she just assumed I was one of those douches who expect the world to spin at their own speed on their birthday. 

Meanwhile, Wendy and Lori ordered a simple, standard, house ramen. Oh those low-maintenance carnivores!

Their ramen really did look delightful though. I wanted to steal those eggs. 

I was so pleased with my lunch! Honestly, it tasted like something Henry would make me at home, which is a true testament to his Asian cooking skills. It was such a comforting, delicious lunch. It was daebak! 

That daikon though. 

Anyway, 45 minutes into the lunch I realized that we hadn’t talked about G-Dragon at all because Wendy was talking about gross smells and Lori was trying to determine if she had a cold or allergies and I was struggling to eat my noodles like they were live tentacles. 

Ugh. 

Lunch was so good though, and the waitstaff was so friendly and accommodating! I want to go back and drink all the sake. 

Thanks, Lori & Wendy!

Spent all night seething over that racist piece of shit leading our country straight back to 1944, but I woke up to not one, but TWO new Taeyang videos. 

So happy that I get to see him in a few weeks. So happy for a few moments of bliss this morning before reality sets back in. 

On the offchance you’re tired of the sickening displays of racism in our collapsing country, here’s a blog post with just pictures of my cats. 

Because I don’t have the energy for anything else. I’ve spent all weekend ranting to Henry about Charlottesville and our “president” and I just feel like some stupidly hopeless white girl who can’t make a difference aside from the one motherfucking “White Lives Matter” sticker I angrily peeled off a door in an alley in Dormont last week. I wish racists could be peeled off the face of the earth that easily. 

America could be the most progressive country in the world, but instead…..this. 

Can we get a real leader yet? Like some Marvel motherfucker? How much longer? SOS please send help, Canada. 

Me: I haven’t written about G-Dragon yet. I don’t even know how to start it!

Chooch: Just start by saying “OMG YOU GUYS.”

Me: That’s pretty much how I start all my posts — DONT YOU READ MY BLOG?!

***

OMG YOU GUYS. July 30, 2017 was the best day of my life (even though I still cried & threw a fit).

Let me back up.

Gotta get that clotheline ready for all the dirty laundry I’m about to hang up like a cheap, tacky outsider art show.

2016 was the worst year of my life. All this tragic shit went down with my family, the great America tragedy known as the 2016 Presidential Election happened, and these things combined to form the perfect storm inside my head. I can’t remember the last time I felt so low, had so many suicidal thoughts, and basically fought with myself on the downlow everyday to stay alive.

I didn’t talk about it with anyone. That was my first mistake. I kept saying I was fine. The shit with my family was fine. The repressed memories swelling up inside of me were fine. The uncontrollable sobbing over TV commercial was fine.

Nothing to worry about!

I was going to a lot of concerts by myself that year too, seeing lots of sad boy bands, crying by myself in a crowd of strangers and feeling more alone than I ever have in my life.

But I didn’t talk about it. Because when I do, it’s always like… a joke. Silly Erin. Dramatic Erin. Because when you can’t put your finger on one solid, tangible problem, people don’t understand. That’s the awesome thing about mental illness — if you don’t “have” it, you can’t possibly comprehend so it sounds like a complete flight of fancy when someone tries to explain to you that they see their emotions in color and cry when they step on a leaf BECAUSE THAT POOR LEAF.  Everything is anthropomorphic. Everything is fragile. There is so much sourceless pain.

I decided to have a Christmas party. I wanted to try to end the year on a happy note. When you have been suffering with bipolar since you were a kid, you find ways to bandage it. And for me, it was always having parties. Trying to fill my house with as many friends in hopes it would do the same to the void in my heart.

I was making a party playlist which stopped Henry in his tracks on his way to the kitchen.

“Oh my god, do you want people to leave your party feeling suicidal?!” Henry explained at the funeral dirge-like goth renditions of Christmas songs I was adding left and right.

“FINE THEN ILL PUT SOME KPOP IN THERE TOO,” I cried. And then, “Aw, I forgot how much I liked these Kpop songs!”

It inspired me to start doing my KpopX workouts again. I had been gaining weight again after years of steadily losing it and that’s always a tell-tale sign that I’m in a rut.

And then it just spiraled from there, the Kpop stuff. I started watching music videos, YouTube videos about Korean food, Seoul travel vlogs….it was replacing my constant CNN watching. I actually stopped watching regular cable altogether. I became obsessed with the way the Korean language sounded, how the dialect slowed down my racing thoughts.

Learning about the culture gave me a healthy outlet. I threw myself into it headfirst. And for the first time in decades, I wasn’t listening to music that made me cry. Kpop was making me so happy. It was helping me lose weight. It was filling that void and giving me something to be excited about it.

Oh, I get so much shit for it. Lots of rolled eyes, lots of being told that it’s cheesy or stupid and that’s fine, because I know that this cheesy stupid thing has saved my life.

But there was one thing that came out of this that stood out among the k-Dramas, the variety shows, and my need to squirt gochujang on every foodstuff—and that thing was a Korean powerhouse named G-Dragon. At first, I didn’t get it. I knew that he was the biggest Kpop star in the world, had high-profile friends even here in America, and was bacisally Korea’s national treasure. But then the more BIGBANG videos I watched, the more live performances I YouTubed, the more variety show appearances I sat trough, the more I understood.

G-Dragon is fucking everything.

For the first time probably since I discovered Jonny Craig in 2007, I felt really excited about music again. I wanted to open my front door and scream BUT DO YOU KNOW G-DRAGON? to every asshole walking past my house.

I had it bad. I dragged Henry down with me. Soon he became a BIGBANG fan too and honestly acknowledged G-Dragon’s greatness. This was something we could enjoy together. It was bringing us closer, even, this whole Korea thing. I was suddenly less irritable, less panicked, less morose.

I was giddy again. Laughing again. Excited to come home from work and dive deeper into this new area of my life.

The bad thing about coming into BIGBANG so late into the game is that all five members are gearing up for their mandatory military enlistment soon (one has already enlisted), so I figured I might never be able to see them live — who knows if they will resume things as a band once they’re all out again.

So when G-Dragon announced his solo world tour and I saw that North America was on the list, Henry didn’t even bother dragging his feet. We got VIP tickets to the Toronto show which fell on my birthday—and now you know, maybe, why this concert was so special—-no, so important to me.

****

We got to the Air Canada Center around 2:45 that afternoon. My VIP itinerary said that check-in was beginning at 3:45, and anyone who got there after 6 would miss the soundcheck. I have never done anything like this before and very rarely even go to big concerts in arenas (I’m used to shows in small clubs where tickets are $15!) so I wanted to get there kind of early, especially since we saw that there was already a line when we passed by earlier that day.

There were a good bit of people in line when we arrived but not so much that I felt overwhelmed. There were two lines, what we figured were gold and silver,  so we got in the end of the longer line after asking if it was silver. No one seemed to know for sure but everyone I asked said they were silver VIP, so….blind faith.

This was when I noticed that the demographics here were not as diverse as KCON – it was mostly Asian people in line with us and I loved it because Korean was being spoken around all sides of me! There was a really cute young Chinese couple behind me that I was obsessed with.

After about an hour of standing in line, the girl in front of us started to wonder why the other line was so short. She suspected that we could stand in both lines, and that’s exactly what she was told when she went and asked one of the staff members. She came back and pulled her friend with her into the much shorter line, but I was hesistant to follow. Several other people eventually followed suit and then Henry went over and asked someone for himself. He too was told that the first line was for silver VIPs so when he came back and told me, I in turn told the cute couple behind me  because they didn’t speak English well and I didn’t want to leave them behind. (The girl part of the couple was wearing a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt and Henry thought this was the oddest thing.)

And wouldn’t you know it, as soon as we got to the other line, another LiveNation guy came over and started yelling about how that was not the line for silver VIPS and he made us all turn around, which meant we had to go all the way to the back of the original line, which was so long and I wanted to cry. I felt doubly terrible because I dragged those poor Chinese kids down with me.

(Well, they’re prpbably not “poor” per se, because those fucking VIP tickets were pretty exorbitant.)

On our walk of shame, another guy started shouting, “If you DO NOT have an orange wristband, get in the left line!”

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDIDNG?? That was the line we were just kicked out of 20 seconds ago! Luckily, we hadn’t made it too far on our walk of shame, so we were able to turn around and still get pretty far up in the good line, maybe about 40 heads back.

Turns out, the people with the orange wristbands were the ones who gotten there extra early and got pre-wristbanded for their efforts. So they got to check in first. There weren’t too many of them, but we still had to stand in line for nearly another hour and I wanted to cry. Meanwhile, the girls who were in front of us originally, the ones who started this whole line fiasco (even though they WERE right) had sidled up next to me and pleaded for me to pretend like they were with me so that they could stand in line with us, because what happened wasn’t fair and they had ended up nearly at the back of the line.

I did feel bad because they weren’t at any fault! They were given the correct info and ended up being punished because some dickhead didn’t understand his job. So I said fine, and we introduced ourselves to each other (the one was Yolanda, but I can’t remember the other girl’s name). We commiserated for awhile about how unorganized the set-up was and then went back to standing in silence because standing around is exhausting you guys. I kept yawning for absolutely no reason.

By 5:00, we had made it past security, picked up our tickets, got a wristband and our Act III: Motte gift bag which included our VIP soundcheck lanyards and bullclips from G-Dragon’s peaceminusone clothing line. I was so happy!

A LiveNation lady jovially explained to us that we were free to mill about because our wristbands were pre-numbered so we didn’t need to worry about losing our spots in line. I was really happy about that because that meant we were going to be allowed into soundcheck in the same order we checked in.

HOWEVER, I noticed that my number was one greater than Henry’s which I found odd since I was given my wristband first. I also thought our number was pretty high in relation to how many people were ahead of us in the original line.

And that’s when some terribly annoying and incompetent, pigeon-toed Live Nation girl came over to us and demanded to see our numbers.

“OK YOU’RE BASICALLY AT THE END OF THE LINE BECAUSE IT STOPS AT 400,” she vocal-fried in our faces. She led us to the back of a line, and I noticed that we passed the girls who I left get in line behind us. And then we just kept walking further and further back.

“What the hell?” I said to Henry, pointing out all the people we passed who checked in after us. And then the dumb bitch kept putting people behind us who should have been in front of us, and when she would realize we were out of place, she would freaking call us out in front of everyone like we were fucking derelicts who couldn’t count.

Henry wanted to ignore her, but I was worried about causing a scene on a day that was supposed to be the best day of my life (sorry Chooch), so I kept sighing and stepping out of line to get to the back, until finally I had enough, looked her dead in the eyes and snapped, “THEN STOP PUTTING PEOPLE BEHIND US, YOU KNOW BY NOW WHAT OUR NUMBERS ARE.”

And she literally never bothered us again.

However, another girl in charge of counting walked by, so I snagged her and asked her exactly how this numbering system worked. She assured me that the numbers on the wristbands were chronological and asked, “Then why are people who were behind me in line out there now waaaaay head of me in this line?”

She swore that was impossible, and I was like, “Well, I’m not making this up. I think that wristbands got mixed up at some point. I figured out that girls who I let get in line behind me were numbers 322 and 323, but Henry and I were 395 and 396.

How is that possible?!

The writsbands were in sheets, and we think that sheets got out of order. It’s the only way.

This girl seemed like she genuinely wanted to help, and she went to talk to two other people who were in charge, but short of making up two imaginary numbers for us, I knew nothing was going to be done. They would have to actually admit that they fucked up. NO WAY LiveNation is ever going to do that.

We ended up so far back in line and I was devastated. All that waiting we did, and now we were probably going to be pushed all the way to the back once we got onto the floor. Then I noticed that my Chinese buddies were in front of us! And there were three young Korean girls behind me who were definitely in front of me when we were in the other line, so we bonded over the fact that someone in charge didn’t know how to count and then I felt better that it wasn’t just me and Henry. I bet there were about 20 of us at least who got numerically fucked.

But then one of the girls behind me was talking about how something similar happened to one of her friends at a BTS show, and how her friend started crying about it. “I mean, I was like ‘Girl, cry about it if that will make you feel better, but it’s not going to change anything’,” and she went back to playing some game on her phone, leaving me to digest this. And she was right. I could stand there and be salty, I could get loud and demand justice, but for what? Nothing was going to change. This was the hand I was dealt, I was cheated, but at the end of the day, I was still there, in line to see G-Dragon, and wasn’t that what really mattered?

And just like that, I was OK. Especially once the band started soundchecking and we realized the back of the stage was literally right through a door next to us. My Chinese friends were giddily trying to sneak through to get a closer look and it was so funny to watch. Everything was good again! We all giggled and people-watched (there were so many guys trying to be like GD) and before we knew it, the line started to move—we were finally being let onto the floor for the soundcheck!

The floor was separated in the middle by a barricade and a line of security. We got to pass right through to the area closest to the stage and each staff member we passed very firmly warned that absolutely no cameras or phones were permitted during soundcheck. Believe me, after my hi-touch experience at KCON, I wasn’t about to test this. I shoved my phone in my purse and didn’t touch it once—I paid a lot of money for this and I was going to be a perfect little girl with good posture and hands behind my back. 

Surprisingly, we were about 6 heads back the stage, after that whole numbering fiasco. There was just so much room available in the VIP area that it really didn’t matter after it was all said and done. 

GD came out around 7:30 for soundcheck and everyone went ballistic. I had imagined this moment in my head for months, a plethora of scenarios were possible…but my reaction was one of semi-paralysis. I sincerely couldn’t move, and my throats felt like it was swollen shut — I was in a state of absolute awe, the highest level of starstruck unlocked. 

There he was, on that stage in front of me, dressed casually, all in black: black bucket hat, black face mask, and what appeared to be a pair of jeans slung across one shoulder in a fashion statement only GD could pull off.  

I WAS SHOOK. 

Never did I think I would get the opportunity to see this brilliant diamond shine in front of me, yet there he was: sparkling even in black, shining even with his face half-hidden beneath a mask. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t talk. 

All I could do was straight cry. 

This person, this idol—he is everything.  His charisma and energy has managed to pick me up from 3000+ away.  There are just no words to explain it, but I am captivated by him—his words, his voice, his movements. I can’t believe I wasted so many years on Jonny Craig when Kwon Jiyong was there the whole time!

And even in spite of the incessant NO RECORDING warnings, people were still doing it blatantly, causing security to push and shove their way through the crowd to issue warnings and remove the offenders from the soundcheck if necessary. Some of them didn’t learn and their arms would shoot straight back into the air with their phones. 

Someone was able to get this much footage, somehow:

His soundcheck was chill, a bit lethargic even, but gave us a taste of what was to come and by the time he walked off stage 20 minutes later, people were desperately screaming for him to come back. 

I put my head into Henry’s chest and wailed, “I CANT BELIEVE HE WAS JUST RUGHT THERE.”

We had about about another hour to wait for the show to start after that. Regular ticket holders were now being allowed in, and everyone was just milling about at that point, getting food and talking. 

It was right around then that Henry realized there was a great open space at the right side of the of the stage so we usurped that prime real estate—this put me three heads back from the barricade! The view was perfect and no one was crowding up on us. All that stressing we did over wristband numbers and look – we still got the most comfortable spot. I felt so lucky. 

Lol, Henry the groupie. 

We were entertained by G-Dragon videos playing on the large screens to the sides of the stage. Henry enjoyed watching some of the people bust out GD’s signature moves. I mildly hated the blond haired white girl in front of us who acted as an authority of Kpop and would pause after each of her cocky statements to see if anyone was listening. When she haughtily said that Taeyang can’t carry a solo tour because he’s too boring, I pretty much blocked her out. 

However, no one bugged me all night. Kpop fans are so chill! I can get used to this. (My bank account won’t ever get used to it, though….)

That title makes it sound like my birthday was super terrible but it actually wasn’t, for once.

Here are some photos of my day, before the MAIN EVENT which obviously was the G-Dragon concert which yes, I am still crying about. In fact, earlier tonight, Chooch and I were on a walk when I wistfully said, “I still can’t believe how close I was to G-Dragon” at which point Chooch said, “Help me” to some lady sitting on the porch of a house we were strolling past.

I might have a problem.

LOL I do. For sure.

But back to my birthday! Henry and I woke up all bright & early because I was rearin’ to go. Our pre-concert plans involved “going to see the water” because if we’re near water I like to look at it while keeping a healthy distance. Henry looked at a map and realized that the Air Canada Center is actually very close to the lake.

But first, coffee.

I hatethat phrase. I wanted to see what it would feel like to actually type it out and I’m here to tell you that it felt super douchey and if you ever see me wearing a shirt with some trendy slogan on it like that, please feel free to knock over my $8 cup of Chemex-brewed designer beans.

But yeah, we went to Boxcar Social for morning beverage, and then walked to to the Purple Penguin for breakfast sandwiches and I was super difficult with my meatless requests but the friendly guy at the counter was super happy to help me get the breakfast sandwich of my dreams and I made sure to go back to thank him before we left for being so accommodating. I try not to be That Veg-Head but sometimes I just gotta speak up and ask for something without meat.

God, Toronto is such a chill city. Please adopt me, Canada. I can’t take it here anymore!

Took the street car thingie downtown. I was really getting used to public transportation by then and it’s a good thing because we used it A LOT on that day.

The water. ^^^

Chris recommended that we take the ferry to Toronto Island but Henry looked it up and it said it was “closed” until the following day.

Ok.

I wouldn’t have believed him but he showed me the website and it did say “closed until 7/31” on it, so no island adventures for us.

We saw these cute Corgis and then immediately missed Chooch because he is OBSESSED with Corgis lately which is cute but also annoying because he does some weird excited arm flap thing when he sees one.

I just can’t be associated with him when he does that weird derpy shit.

Henry made me go inside this Purina Pet thing which had a Rainbow Bridge area where people could write messages to their deceased pets and tack them up on a board. I write one for March and then immediately felt depressed because I’m just not “over” it and probably never will be, nor do I want to be. She is so special to me.

Meanwhile, there was the whole section of walls with pictures of pets and accompanying stories of their acts of heroics and sacrifice, which I made the mistake of reading some and then promptly started sobbing. I caught up with Henry who had wandered ahead and wailed, “Why did you bring me in here???”

I had to sit on a bench until I was able to be seen by the public eye again. Wouldn’t be my birthday unless tears were shed, so here’s to keeping tradition alive.

We decided it was time to start walking back away from the water and into the city to find somewhere to eat for lunch. In hindsight, I’m not sure why we hadn’t solidified lunch plans before leaving the airbnb, but whatever–I guess it wouldn’t be my birthday without my blood sugar dropping and my dormant homicidal side awakening.

We got caught in a horde of Blue Jay fans converging on the Rogers Centre, and then we came upon the front of the Air Canada Centre, where I needed to stand for an unlimited amount of time, waiting for the huge video screen on the front of the arena to flash something for G-Dragon’s show because I wanted to take a picture. We had to endure ads for Katy Perry and other dumb things, but finally, the Act III: Motte ad came up and I quickly snapped a picture. That’s when I noticed two girls nearby doing the same thing, so we laughed about it together and my heart felt so full because I was already connecting with other G-Dragon fans! Other people who get it, finally!

We walked through the inside of the Air Canada Centre, because it seemed like a very common thoroughfare for pedestrians. This is how we learned where we would need to go when we came back later, because there were already VIPs lining up inside, maybe about 75 to 100 of them. It was a little after 11am at this point, and check-in for the VIP tickets wasn’t until 3:45. I could tell Henry was briefly worried that I was going to decide to forego food and get in line with everyone else, but I just don’t think I have that endurance at this age! So we left the Air Canada Centre and continued our walk to the nearest subway station.

Everything was fine at first. We decided on some vegetarian place, so we got on a subway and then a streetcar, but while on the streetcar, Henry realized that he must have gotten “turned around” map-wise when we came out of the subway station, because he had us on a streetcar going the opposite direction.

This was phase one of preparing for my fire-breathing dragon act.

I did some mild berating of his weakened manhood {“Isn’t that like the #1 thing you fucking MEN love to brag about, your inherent ruling over maps? Your built-in navigational systems? Your compass-like dicks pointing the way?”) while we waited for another streetcar to take us back the way we came, thanks for wasting valuable time, Henry.

He kept apologizing and trying to laugh it off because hahahaha even men make mistakes once in a decade, hahhahaha. STFU and feed me you son of a bitch.

We get on a streetcar and a few minutes in, the driver makes an announcement that some road is closed and now the streetcar wasn’t going the way we needed it to go so Henry was like, “LET’S JUST GET OFF HERE AND FIGURE IT OUT” and by this point, I had reached full-blown hanger and didn’t care about going to whatever vegetarian place we had chosen anymore, I just wanted food in my fucking mouth, or an iced latte, so whatever came first was FINE BY ME.

But Henry insisted that this damn restaurant wasn’t too far away so he had his nose glued to his phone maps while I stomped along like a petulant child and I didn’t care who witnessed it at this point because the zipper ties on my true bipolar self only hold for so long and then the real Erin is devouring the fake smiles and sweet voice of Fake Erin because SHE HAS BEEN LOCKED UP FOR A WHILE NOW AND IS FUCKING FAMISHED, MOTHERFUCKERS. YOU’RE NEXT, HENRY.

Henry kept trying to make jokes but I was purposely walking several feet ahead of him because that’s what I do to punish him and I don’t think he ever really notices. We eventually did come across the restaurant he chose but it turned out to be inside some mall-like building so I spat, “Oh I’m not eating inside a mall, just no” like this was some terribly offensive thing for whatever reason and Henry had this, “Are you fucking serious?” look on his face but then remembered who he was dealing with, the girl who constantly adds to “Do Not Like” list on the fly but then tries to act like it’s always been that way, like how could you not know that, Henry? After 16 years you’re just now learning I won’t eat in a restaurant in a mall-like thing? UGH. DON’T YOU EVEN KNOW ME.

[Sidenote: I had declined a Fitbit weekend competition with Octavia because I figured Sunday would be such a bust, full of standing around at a concert all night and how would I get in any steps? But thanks to all this madness, I’d still wind up having over 22,000 steps by the end of the night, and that was even with all the standing in pre-concert lines that we would end up doing from 2:45-7:00.]

“Well, there’s another vegetarian restaurant a few minutes down this way,” Henry calmly said, consulting his phone. We crossed a street and he said it was literally a few 100 feet away, but out of spite, I chose this restaurant called Sin & Redemption instead because that’s just the kind of fucking asshole I am.

“But the other place is literally right—-” Henry started to say, but I had already walked inside this regular-people-food establishment after glancing the menu posted outside and seeing that they had a veggie wrap.

The host told us to choose somewhere to sit in the awkwardly-spaced out dining room, which only had one other table occupied, but Henry was being so indecisive over where to sit because he was worried about upsetting the Queen, so finally I yelled in an angry sing-song voice, “OMG JUST PICK SOMEWHERE” while flashing a sweet smile at the host.

Jesus Christ!!!

This place was awful, literally the only bad choice of the whole trip but that’s what happens when you listen to the hateful voice in your head and choose a place out of spite.

Our waiter was too busy having a clandestine relationship with the waitress, my wrap had no taste, Henry’s omelette was the size of an orphan’s fist, and the waiter took my plate away from me before I was finished eating my frittes, which was the only good part of the meal.

But this is what I do on my birthday — I throw tantrums and self-sabotage, so happy 38th birthday to me, to me, to me!

Henry and I barely spoke on the subway and streetcar ride back to Leslieville. By this point, it was nearly 2:00pm and I was past due for my second coffee refueling, so I demanded that Henry go back out somewhere and get me an iced latte while I laid on the bed and pouted. Before he left, I yelled after him, “And you’re not going to G-Dragon with me!”

He came back with an iced latte and a butter tart, my first and only butter tart in Canada. It was delicious and I didn’t give him one single bite, but I did allow him to go to the G-Dragon concert with me. Which is where we went as soon as I finished my butter tart! And if I’m being honest, I think a lot of the day’s badness was directly related to my mounting stress and anxiety over the concert—I was a nervous fucking wreck up until the moment we were finally inside that arena, in front of the stage. 

The rest of the day was so much better (I had one more moment of anger but that was directed toward LiveNation so Henry got to be on the same side as me for once because now we had a common enemy) but in the grand scheme of things, it was so good that it completely negated every single “bad” hunger-related moment that happened earlier and I can easily say that this was the best birthday of my life, terrible lunch, bad directions, and all.

The dumb church across the street from my house had their idiot festival all last week. I honestly couldn’t be bothered with this shit because it’s full of things I hate: church people and charity.

lol j/k some charities are ok.

Chooch, however, loves this gig. It doesn’t even have rides so I don’t quite understand what his fascination is but every night last week, Henry gave him a few bucks, told him to look both ways before crossing the street, then we went back to watching Running Man while Chooch swam in a sea of Bengay-stinkin’ elders.

At one point, he came barging in the house, eyes all bugged out, hands running through his hair, and cried, “I won $10 and then lost it! I think I have a gambling problem at age eleven! Can I have more money?!?”

“No!” we shouted in perfect parental unison.

But then he found $3 and took off.

He is a fucking nutcase.

(What if this is how people grow up to be gamblers for real, though??)

This went on every evening. Sometimes he went over alone, sometimes with the neighbor kids, and once with his school buddy Demajio. He brought home several stuffed animals in the midst of all the money he was essentially throwing into the wind.

Somewhere along the way, he mentioned the raffles.

“I entered to win a bike!” Chooch panted in excitement during one of his nightly check-ins which was less to appease our paranoia of his whereabouts and more to con more cash from our pockets. “I also entered to win you a new coffee maker! It’s a KEURIG!”

He was so excited about it that I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I graduated from Keurigs long ago.

Saturday was the big day. The winning raffle tickets were going to be drawn! Chooch was so concerned when I told him we were going to Vegfest that day, but then was super relieved when he realized we’d be home before the shitty festival started.

Meanwhile, I went out for one of my many walks around the neighborhood because I am having the hardest time sitting still these days. It’s like my feet are desperate to catch up to my racing mind. Anyway, I had only made it a block away before being accosted by the weird lady who lives in the big, creepy white house on the corner with who we think is possibly her brother?! I always try to avoid her because sometimes I feel like I’m looking at my future as the town eccentric.

I was walking past her sidewalk when I saw her coming toward me.

“You been to the fair yet?” she asked, skipping over any customary salutations.

“No, I don’t care about that fair,” I said over my shoulder, hoping that my snotty tone would deter her.

But no, she kept talking, and for whatever reason, I turned with a groan and walked back to the end of her sidewalk, where she had stpped to lean against her old shitty pick-up truck. “Yeah, but it’s not the kind of the fair that has RIDES and all that crap,” she said. Um excuse me, but the fact that it doesn’t have rides is exactly WHY I don’t care about it! “They got all kinds of games, and a BAKE SALE in the basement!” And then she proceeded to explain to me how to enter the basement even though I said I already knew because hello, that’s where I go to have Russia fuck with my vote.

“You know Potomac Bakery?” she asked, waiting for my nod. “OK, and you know how they sell their day-old stuff for cheap?” I didn’t know that, but I said yes anyway because WHY OH WHY OH DID I EVER LEAVE OHIO.

Sorry. Quoting Back to the Beach is my nervous tic.

“Well at the church, they’re doing that too. They had boxes of old stuff they were giving away for free. Like donuts, I don’t care for donuts, but there was other stuff too, like bread. Anyway, I’m going to go back there today and say something, because I asked how much I could take and they were like ‘well, it’s free….’ so I took it all! And when I was leaving, one of those ladies said to me, ‘I hope you’re going to make a donation!’ Excuse me? Then they shouldn’t have said it was FREE!” she cried. “Yeah, I’m going to go back and say something to them tonight.”

“Yeah, that’s misleading,” I muttered, trying to blink the glaze away from my eyes.

“You know all these churches are going under, right? A bunch of them are closing. It’s a shame. But you know, maybe if their PRIESTS would stop molesting people, this wouldn’t be happening! And now we have all these gays and…what do you call them…those, you know, ‘genders.’ Maybe if the church would let the priests get MARRIED, they wouldn’t have to go around ruining so many lives!”

“Yeah….” I whispered, looking around to make sure no one was hearing this.

“I went to Catholic school, back in the days when the nuns would whack you on the wrists with rulers!” she exclaimed. “But yeah, you should go over to the fair tonight! Fifty cent baked goods, can’t beat that!” And with that, she turned and started rummaging though her truck and I hot-stepped it the fuck out of there.

Later that night, Chooch was in his glory, spinning wheels and filling Bingo cards. He dramatically entered the house early on in the evening, hoisting a Trader Joe’s bag.

“Look what I won!” he cried, pulling out a roll of paper towels, White Rain shower gel, powdered sugar, green beans, two cans of soup neither of us can eat because meat, and a huge generic jar of peanut butter.

Henry and I just stared at this random array of food bank loot, while Chooch looked at us expectantly, waiting for praise. Finally, I just cracked the fuck up.

“What the hell kind of wheel are you spinning over there??”

Am I missing something? Was this like a Chopped challenge for a greater prize? I’M SO CONFUSED.

I told him that crazy lady was talking about the bake sale, and he knowingly said, “Oh yeah, it’s in the basement.”

“Well go buy me some stuff!” I cried, and he seemed excited to have a mission. He came back with several plates of so-so treats.

“And these cookies were 4 for a dollar. I thought that was a pretty good deal,” he said, and boy can you tell he’s been hanging out with old people.

Not pictured are the two buckeyes that Chooch and I devoured before he even had a chance to put all  the plates down on the table. LOVE US SOME BUCKEYES, BITCHES.

Meanwhile, Henry was across the street trying to win shit too. He also put some more raffle tickets in the basket for the bike Chooch wanted, a steak dinner at Capital Grill (ew), and a lottery tree.  When he came back, he said Chooch’s nemesis Larry’s wife was so drunk over there that two people had to practically carry her back to her house across the street. And that Jackie the Witch was over there with some guy who was equally-as-hammered as Larry’s wife. He threw down a hundred dollar bill on some game and of course he lost, so he started yelling about the game being fixed. Our neighbors, keepin’ Brookline classy as always.

When henry came back in the house, he was inspecting the goods Chooch purchased at the bake sale.

“Fifty cent baked goods, can’t beat that!” I said with faux-enthusiasm. “Oh, and Chooch also got buckeyes but we ate them without you,” I blurted out on a bed of needling laughter.

“The buckeyes were actually $1 though,” Henry said.

“How would you know?” I asked all haughtily.

“Because I bought some too, and ate them without you!” Henry laughed. That motherfucker! Ugh, well-played.

By 10:30 that night, the fair was winding down. The DJ played his last dumb doowop track and the prize wheels went for one last clickety spin. I actually felt a little sad because I sort of enjoyed the sounds of that crappy fair wafting in through my windows every night. A little action is nice every now and then.

Chooch and Henry were over there until nearly 11 waiting on the raffle drawings. They finally came back after realizing that there were 100+ prize baskets and the church said they would just call each winner the next day since they had so many to go through.

This wasn’t what Chooch wanted to hear, but he dealt with it and went to sleep.

The next morning, chooch and I were walking to Cafe Noir for our weekend coffee/hot chocolate ritual. Chooch was rambling on and on about the raffle, about the Giant mountain bike, how the Keurig came with a mug that says I Love Jesus—we both lost it at the thought of me drinking coffee from a mug like that.

I asked him whose number he put on his tickets, mine or Henry’s.

“Jaden’s mom,” he said nonchalantly.

I stopped in my tracks. “What? Why??” I asked, thoroughly confused.

“Because I was over there with her and Jaden when I first entered the raffle. Just my first three tickets have her number on it. I didn’t have a chance to change it.”

This made zero sense to me.

“So if they draw your ticket and call her, do you think she is going to give you that bike?” I said, less of a question and more of a THINK ABOUT IT statement.

Chooch paused. With forced confidence, he slowly said yes. But the realization of what he had done was starting to blow up the blood vessels in his PRECIOUS LITTLE ANGEL CHEEKS – seriously I want Chooch to always have those cute pinchable cheeks haha.

I reminded Chooch that he still had the tickets that Henry bought him, so all hope was not lost, but in the back of my mind, I already knew how this would play out. The writing was on Chooch’s cheeks.

Hours passed with no call from the church.

Later that afternoon, we saw Jaden’s mom walking across the street.

Walking through the church parking lot.

Walking into the church gymnasium.

Walking out with one Giant mountain bike.

KNEW IT.

I held back from screaming TOLD YOU SO. Chooch was crushed. Totally ripped apart.

“There’s a 50/50 chance that it really was Jaden’s ticket though,” I pointed out, because Chooch said they had split a strip of tickets.

What I didn’t know was that Jaden’s mom paid for all of them. I thought chooch had given her money for his half. So technically….regardless whose name was on that ticket….

Jaden’s mom bought it.

“All you can do is just make yourself believe it was Jaden’s ticket and move on,” Henry-Knows-Best said like it was a fortune pulled straight from a cookie.

“Or!!!! I can go ask to see the ticket!!!!” Chooch cried in a really scary, BOY ON THE EDGE warble.

He was reaching for the front door when I stopped him because hello that’s our neighbor and the last thing I care to have is drama. Asking to see the ticket is basically accusing her of being a liar. I don’t even know this woman, but I want to believe that she was going the right thing and I have no reason to think otherwise.

Chooch was straight up pacing. “I will wait until tonight AND DIG THRU HER GARBAGE IF I HAVE TO!”

Oh for Gods sake.

I suggested that we go get ice cream as a distraction.

“Pfft! I don’t need ice cream,” Chooch scoffed. “….I need a gallon.”

“Wow. Did you just break up with a girl?” Henry laughed.

We ended up going to Target so he could pick out something small to fill the void left by the Bike of Betrayal. As usual, he couldn’t decide on anything, but I bought this AMAZING GAME called Fündopop which is basically Thingie Ball 2.0 and I’m so excited about it because I have been looking for a Thingie Ball replacement for years. 

We went across the street to play in the church parking lot (ironically) and Chooch was like, “I’m really glad we bought this. It’s taking my mind off the bike. Oh god now I’m thinking about the bike again!”

He is wrecked.

Meanwhile, we made Henry come over to watch us play because after two minutes we became experts and were getting all cocky and arrogant about how amazing we are at Fündopop and demanded an audience.

While we were playing, some old bitch was in the parking lot, stuffing into her car a large, inflatable tree dripping with scratch off tickets.

“LOL, there goes your lottery tree, Henry,”I laughed.

“Son of a bitch!” Henry spat.

Chooch spent the next day avoiding Jaden,  but by Tuesday he was ready to “face his fears,” as he put it. He said Jaden told him it honestly was his own ticket that was drawn, and Chooch said he believes him and has made peace with the whole situation, friendship intact.

He is way more mature than I am, that’s for sure. I’d have held an unrealistic grudge for years and probably would have signed the subject of my hatred up for Scientology or advertised their kidneys on Craigslist.

You don’t know what I’m capable of.

If there’s one thing Chooch learned through all of this, it’s NEVER SPLIT A STRIP OF RAFFLE TICKETS. And also, two buckeyes for $1 seems like a rip-off.

Somehow, I’ve been a vegetarian since 1996 and have approximately zero vegetarian friends in this godforsaken city. This means that I’m usually the “pain” when it comes to going out to eat with my friends. Like the time original plans got botched with Jeannie, Wendy, and Barb and we ended up eating at some place called Carve instead of Proper (which has amazing artisan pizza but was super crowded), and I’m sure you can guess by the name what kind of food CARVE specialized in.

(I used past tense there because that shitty meat palace is closed now, LOLing all the way to the post office to drop off my PETA renewal.)

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been stuck eating a basic salad or some lame vegetable wrap, or even worse: not finding ANYTHING on the menu and having to ask if there’s a special meatless menu, which always winds up being some angel hair pasta afterthought.

Don’t mind me, walking down a puddle-lined street with a pleather suitcase of sighs.

Pittsburgh actually has a decent amount of vegan/vegetarian joints these days, and Henry is secure enough in his carniverous lifestyle to go green every now and then, and now Chooch is a vegetarian too but let me tell you: that don’t mean SHIT. Kid is just as picky as ever and pretty much hates everything and thinks all the creative faux-meat creations are “too spicy.” No matter what.

“Too spicy.”

Before my friend Alisha moved to Arkansas, I was kind of the bane of her dining existence. It was always, “Shit, Erin can’t eat here, though.” And then she would taunt me at times too, but that’s nothing—pretty much all my friends have done that to me every now and then.

In a funny turn of events, Alisha has actually recently become vegan! So when she came to Pittsburgh last weekend to visit, I was stoked to have someone to not eat meat with.

Plus, I hadn’t seen her since 2010!

She wanted to go to Onion Maiden and I was excited to give it a second try. The first time I went with Henry, I ordered a hot dog only because it had house-made vegan kimchi on it and I think that was a mistake because it wasn’t filling enough for a dinner entree. Henry just flat out wasn’t impressed with it at all, so he was like, “Ya’ll have fun with that” and then went to Tom’s Diner and probably got a gyro or something gross, who knows.

Alisha and I both got an appetizer to split:

• Alpha & Omega: smoked cashew rangoon
• Bunn 0))): enoki, cucumber, Korean mayo, hoisin

One guess which one I ordered.

Anyway, oh sweetly sweating seitan sacks, both appetizers were TO DIE FOR. I wanted to lay my head down on those sensual, steamed baos and take a sex dream-laden nap. I wanted to honk them, motorboat them, gently rub them over G-Dragon’s perfect face.

You know, all the normal things you want to do when a plate of precious steamed buns is placed before you.

For my entree, I had The Woods, which was an edible work of tasteful food pornography featuring lily flower, wood ear mushrooms (my favorite kind of mushroom except that Henry started using it too much and I was getting tired of them), tofu, ginger pesto (fuck yes), and kale. I ate the FUCK out of it.

Alisha had the Headbangers ball: tofu croquettes with lemongrass, black rice, ginger, cilantro chutney, slaw, and peanuts.

Oh shit, I also had a side of vegan kimchi which I had to eat with a fork and that just seemed wrong, so so so wrong. But I gotta get my Korean staples in whenever I can.

It was the perfect food to accompany 7 years worth of catching up. Onion Maiden redeemed themselves this go-around, and Alisha redeemed herself by issuing an unsolicited apology for being a meat-bully back in the day! It was unexpected and really sweet—I loved this night!

***

The next day was Vegfest on the Northside, basically a collection of vegan food trucks and various animal-friendly vendors, plus some live entertainment. This was its third year and I’ve got to be upfront with the bots reading this right now: I purposely avoided it the first two years because vegans and vegetarians can be super pretentious hipster pricks and even though I have probably been living that meat-free life for longer than a lot of them at these things, I never feel included. Maybe I’m not sanctimonious enough? Should I shame my burger-chomping friends more often? Wear patchouli?

There are a handful of vegan restaurants I’ve wanted to try for awhile but the vibes are strong and wrong, if you know what I mean. Forever an outsider, oh well.

But since Alisha was in town, she was going to be there with her friends Melissa and Corey, so Henry, Chooch and I took the trolley on over for a day of cruelty-free food-stuffing.

We got there about an hour after it started, and the lines were already NUTS. We were able to snag some vegan donuts and a veggie tart from Goat-something Bakery. I forget their name, but I cherished the fact that no one had seemed to notice that they existed since they were set up next to the Onion Maiden truck and a million people were too busy wiling away their day in that line.

I had the lemon lavender donut, natch, and it was too die for.

After sitting with Alisha & Co. at their table for awhile, we decided to attempt to get some actual meals. I had purposely skipped breakfast and I needed real food. I wanted a hearty lunch! Fucking feed me.

It was mayhem. Total pandemonium. People were walking into each other, food lines were intermingled, BABY STROLLERS WERE EVERY FUCKING WHERE. Every nerve in my body was sparking. This was my worst nightmare. People and lines.

Things standing in my way of food.

I wanted to cry.

I got in line for Blue Sparrow because they had a Korean foccacio I wanted (lol) but the line was actually doubled over on its self because there was nowhere else for it to snake. I had to stand stockstill, with my arms pressed into my sides, because there were people on my both sides of me and I didn’t want to bump flesh with strangers ugh. Some old dude ahead of me said that Blue Sparrow had to keep stopping taking orders because they couldn’t keep up. So we were essentially standing in a line that had nothing happening, no end in sight. Henry and Chooch walked past me eating the cold pizza they bought from some other vendor (the last two pieces, even!) and I looked at them with sad eyes and said, “I CAN’T DO THIS!”

“Then let’s go find something else,” Henry said. Because this was fucked. They weren’t satisfied with their pizza and I still hadn’t procured even a nibble of tofu, so we used our heads and walked a block down the street to El Burro, which has a vegan menu, and within 10 minutes, we had lunch.

We took it back to the park so we could still hang with Alisha and Co., who were on the prowl for dessert. We got in line for Wolf Teeth Donuts, who SOLD OUT while we were in line. And then I found out that Blue Sparrow had also sold out a few minutes after I left the line, so I would have wasted my fucking time if I hadn’t left.

Vendors were selling out left and right and we were so pissed and disappointed. You would have thought it was Vegfest’s first year, and that the city of Pittsburgh has never hosted a single food truck roundup for them to learn from.

I appreciate and support the meaning behind Vegfest. It was awesome seeing so many local people living a meatless life, all in one spot like that. Yes, a lot of them were annoying as fuck, but I tolerated them because it was for a good cause. I DID IT FOR THE ANIMALS YOU GUYS.

But I’m still mad about it. How are you going to advertise an event that’s supposed to last from 11-5 and then have most of your food vendors sell out within the first two hours? In the words of South Korean girl group Red Velvet: dumb dumb dumbdumbdumb dumb.

We had a good time chilling with Alisha at least!

Now I just gotta work on a plan to lure her back to Pittsburgh for good…

In a fit of giddiness Saturday morning, I asked Chooch to take a picture of me in the shirt I bought at the G-Dragon concert last week, because I love it so much. 

He took several, but I liked this one the best because I’m looking over at Henry who was in the middle of saying (lovingly) that I’m so dumb and we were all laughing about how it must feel for Chooch to have a sixteen-year-old as a mom…but when I saw this picture, I realized it’s a perfectly accurate depiction of me lately: just, happy. Laughing. Feeling excited about little things. 

Are things perfect? Am I suddenly stress-free? Fuck no. But everything in the nucleus is stable and that’s all I can ask for. 

This weekend was full of good things and I smiled a lot. Until we watched Game of Thrones and I got upset that (NOT REALLY A SPOILER BECAUSE GAME OF THRONES) horses died. 

“I just feel so bad for the horses, though,” I cried. 

“I mean, you know it’s not real though, right?” Henry asked hesitantly, because one cannot ever be too sure with me. 

“I know, but….still.” 

Ugh Sunday nights are depressing in a myriad of ways. I should have bought more than one G-Dragon shirt for extra smiling power. 

Today is not only just my birthday, but it’s also the day I get to see G-Dragon, like—be under the same roof as G-Dragon! I’m going to be a mess and super annoying all day so be grateful that I’m Henry’s super annoying messy problem and not yours. 

I tried to talk henry into going to the airport with me yesterday to wait for him but he was all, “THATS WHAT KIDS DO.” He did go as far as looking up flight arrivals though but all the ones coming in from NY had already happened for the day. So then all day and night I was on G-Dragon Watch, which angered henry because WHY WOULD G-DRAGON BE GETTING OUT OF AN ECONOLINE VAN? And WHY WOULD G-DRAGON BE BUYING A BANANASPLIT FROM THAT ICE CREAM TRUCK? And WHY WOULD THAT SHADOW BE G-DRAGONS WHEN IT BELONGS TO SOME REGULAR GUY TRYING TO PASS YOU ON SIDEWALK BC YOURE IN ANOTHER G-DRAGON DAZE?!

This is Henry’s life. All of my ex-boyfriends are rejoicing. 

I’ve been up since 6am because I’m just too excited to sleep! I can’t remember the last time it was like this for me. Gotta cling to those little joys, you guys! I hope everyone has a wonderful day today—I’m sprinkling my G-Dragon energy out there for all to enjoy!

OMG WE’RE ON OUR WAY, G-DRAGON! Today is definitely a live-blogging occasion. 

7:47am: We’re officially on our way to Toronto and Henry has  already called someone an a-hole and a dickwad because he’s so fucking PG-13 (and no it wasn’t me!). Oh wait, he just called me a smart ass and said it’s not too late for him to just drop me off at work. Ugh. (It’s true though – we’re going to pass downtown here in about 30 seconds. GOODBYE WORK FRIENDS!! I hope someone moves my face ahead one day on the calendar!)

When we were getting ready to leave, Henry found this in his suitcase:

Well-played, Chooch! 

Henry got some hipster trail mix that has mulberries in it. I haven’t thought about mulberries since I was a kid and my brother Ryan and I found mysterious berries on a tree in the backyard and ate the FUCK out of them, causing my mom to panic because she didn’t know what they were. Turns out they were mulberries and we lived to tell the tale! I used to call them “mmmmmmmmmul-hhahahahahahaaha-berries” in a weird throaty voice, who knows why. Also, I was like 13 when we were eating maybe-poison berries so I guess I should have known better? Henry said this isn’t surprising to him at all. 

8:24am: Hi me again. We just stopped at Sheetz because I was about to bite henry if I didn’t get coffee asap. He tried to explain to me what the “spill kit” is next to the gas pumps because I have literally never noticed it before – apparently its kitty litter-esque stuff to throw down on gas spills? I never would have guessed that. “Yeah you would just panic and leave if you spilled gas,” Henry sighed, and then I went into Sheetz and ordered my coffee and breakfast and paid for it without waiting for henry because I couldn’t stand there for another fucking second without my morning medicine. Henry acted all sad when he finally came in and saw that I was already waiting for my order. “You paid already?” YEAH HENRY I DONT ALWAYS NEED YOU OK?!

No wait come back, j/k!!

9:32am: just spent the last 30 minutes talking about teeth and now my entire mouth feels so sensitive ugh. I’m very obsessed with teeth & have recurring nightmares of losing mine. Ughhhh. 

10:34am: It wouldn’t be a road trip if we didn’t stop at Target to buy all the things we forgot to bring. 

Seriously though there are mulberries in our trail mix. 

10:42am: I was super sad to say goodbye to Chooch, btw. I told him last night that I’m going to miss him so much and in typical Chooch fashion, he said, “I’ll miss you too, but….we live together and see each other every day. Sometimes I need a break.”

WOW. 

I still hugged him this morning like Elmyra from Tiny Toons hugging a squirrel. 

11:13am: Once we cross the border, i gotta dip into airplane mode until we get to a place with wifi, so if I go silent for awhile let’s hope it’s for cellular reasons and not because I was arrested at the border because someone turned me into a drug mule in my sleep. 

On that note! Here’s a G-Dragon video that you should definitely watch and appreciate his porcelain beauty (fun fact: the word that’s being beeped out is the Korean word for bastard):

11:35am: It’s way past time for my second coffee injection and Henry is NOT TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY. I keep growling and he’s just like, “Ok scary dog, calm down.” I’m about to rip his beard off and turn it into a motherfucking merkin. 

11:54am: Hi guys we just stopped at a rest area in “some stupid place in NY” according to Henry’s atlas, and we got to cross the highway on a walkway! I LOVE THESE KINDS! Here are some exciting photos:

Henry was less stoked about walking through this thing than I was. 

Yeah boi!!

Anyway wow what a cluster of a rest area. Henry cried because he couldn’t get a pretzel (“THERE WERE TWO LINES MERGED INTO ONE! PEOPLE ARE IDIOTS!”) but I got an iced latte at some kiosk serving “ITALY’S FAVORITE COFFEE” (LaVasomething) so I just calmly giggled at Henry’s irrational madness and waved him off with a Parade Queen hand. OH SILLY HENRY. 

I also got to see some girl trip and I like things like that. What a wonderful rest stop experience. 

12:23pm: Passing Buffalo. I haven’t been here since 2008, when I met shitty Jonny Craig. 

12:29pm: 

Crossing the Peace Bridge to the border! 

See you later, friendos! I’ll keep all my updates in Notes so I can barrage this thing with them later! Hopefully we don’t get stopped and searched at the Border! Henry asked why would we and I was like because you look like you just came down from the mountains for the first time in 18 years after writing a Manifesto? I mean le duh?

Me: WHAT IF THEY DRAW THEIR GUNS

Henry: WHY? WHY WOULD THEY????

12:53pm: WELL WE GOT PULLED OVER BC THE GUY WAS ASKING QUESTIONS AND HENRY STUTTERED WITH EVERY ANSWER. He asked how we know each other and I’ll tell you why he asked that ITS BECAUSE WE’RE NOT MARRIED AND NOW WE HAVE TO DO AN ID CHECK BECAUSE HE THINKS HENRY KIDNAPPED ME. 

He asked why we’re visiting and henry was all, “oh um uh uh conc—-leisure….leisure concert.” ?????

The guy asked who’s playing and henry was like G-DRAGON in the most unnatural voice ever and how was this man in the fucking SERVICE?! 

1:05pm Thank god we didn’t have to wait very long before someone came over and took our YELLOW SLIP. he asked why we were visiting and we went through another round of A CONCERT. 

Who you seeing?

G-DRAGON. 

And then a knowing head nod but DO YOU REALLY KNOW?

So he sent us inside for an ID check and there was no one else there shockingly so we strode right up to the counter and went through the THIRD G-Dragon exchange with the guy at the counter who ran a background check on us and asked “is there anything I’m going to find?” and I said no but my head was swirling with uncertainties. I DONT KNOW IS THERE?! There are parts of my life I can’t remember! God only knows what I may have done!

1:30pm: Everything’s in kilometers and I just don’t know. 

1;52pm Obligatory Tim Hortons stop. The restroom faucet didn’t recognize my American hands and we struggled. Then henry got a handful of change back and we struggled some more. 

Back in the car. I made him change the 90s r&b station because I’m not ’bout that life anymore. So the very next station that came up is playing POPULAR ROMANIAN DANCES! I’m way more Korean now than I am Romanian but I was like STOP THE SEARCH! THIS IS THE STATION!

Meanwhile one of those Great Lakes is next to us and I keep getting creeped out. 

2:14pm: We just crossed over some large bridge into Burlington (I guess?). I took a huge whiff and cried, “Aw it smells like a water ride! It smells like the Log Jammer!”

“That’s a sewer,” Henry calmly inserted. 

3:04pm: In Toronto, mostly!

My first impression is one of unease. Every building is glass! It’s so much glass! It’s a city of glass!

5:05pm: Just finished dinner at The Peasant Table with my friend Chris (not of Chronica fame) whom I haven’t seen since the last time the Cure was nominated for a Grammy (2001 you dum-dums)!

6:23pm: Ugh Chris left to go back home to St. Catharines – it sucked saying goodbye after finally seeing each other after 15ish years! I was afraid it might be awkward because I’m so socially backward now but it was like we hang out all the time, plus we talked about Marcy [RIP] because he knew her. 

#teardrop

Now we’re relaxing for a bit in our airbnb that Chronica recommended to us and our host Mark is great — I mean, I guess he is! Henry has talked to him like three times already and I keep missing him so he probably thinks I’m some stuck/up hoebag. 

But yeah anyway after dinner we got ice cream at Ed’s even though I wanted Sweet Jesus but the one in this area is just a window and I want to go to the one I saw in some asshole vlogger’s video because it seems more Instagram-worthy and yes I AM THAT TACKY. Ed’s was supposed to be famous but it was just so-so. I had the Leslieville Honey and it was alright. 

Henry ordering poorly (cherry sorbet, dumb). 

We strolled around for a bit and I saw a million places I wanted to go into but I’m trying not to buy things because the Kpop lifestyle has broken me (although there IS a swag lamp I’m considering going back for). I also learned that pedestrians can push a button and THEN POINT AT CARS TO STOP DRIVING so that they can cross the street — how can this work?! But we pushed the button and surivived!

STOP. JUST STOP. 

We had a really great talk with Chris about the state of America and it’s always interesting to hear things from a non-American perspective. Chris also explained Canadian monies and gas prices to Henry. Ugh, such adulting. 

Henry felt threatened by Chris’s beard though. 

8:25pm: OK UPDATE. We rested for a bit and then came out to explore. I made henry pose for pictures which typically Chooch would be sourced out for. He wasn’t thrilled, but he obliged because GUESS WHOSE BIRTHDAY WEEKEND IT IS. 

I had to cross the street and wait for a bus to load before being able to take the above picture but I was motivated.  

I think this nose belongs to a bar with no name? Never mind—Henry just googled “Leslieville nose” and found out but I’m too tired to type it though—/ it’s Italian small plate comfort food.  

We stopped so I could medicate with coffee at Tango Palace and now I know what’s missing from our back porch: a huge, protruding statue. 

Henry doesn’t drink coffee so he was super unimpressed.

Henry said he couldn’t imagine why everyone keeps looking at me and then remembered I’m a Ladychild with flashy-yet-juvenile accoutrements. In this case: my shiny ray gun purse. I mean they certainly aren’t admiring my face. 

Then we stopped st some drug store to buy a brush because it’s rule to have to stop at least twice in a trip to buy shit we left at home, and henry was so smug because he was able to pay in coins thanks to Chris’s tutorial. 

Right after, we walked past some people speaking Korean and I started to cry. Henry had the “oh for gods sake” lip-twist. 

We’re currently sitting at Hi Lo, a bar that’s totally my speed—kind of divey but not gross. Henry is trying to determine if our drinks were expensive. Except that now I’m complaining because I’m hungry again and henry is all, “We should have went somewhere that has food but you picked this place” and I defensively said “yeah because I liked the lights???” I FELT LIKE I WAS BEING ACCUSED OF SOMETHING OK. 

I’m drinking a KW Craft Cider and it’s probably the plainest-tasting cider I’ve ever had but the ambiance of this place balances it out so I won’t get all haughty on Yelp. 

8:41pm: LOLOLOLOL DRUNK A LITTLE. YOU GUYS SHOULD BE GRATEFUL THAT IM NOT ON FB ANYMORE. 

8:51pm: OH SHIT WE’RE AT KABOOM CHICKEN – come at me, kimchi fries!!

9:01pm: ok I’m in tears. This is religion. Gochujang mayo. Kimchi. This is everything. 

Henry got k-popcorn chicken!!! KPOP-corn chicken!! DYING. THIS PLACE IS THE LIMIT.  I kept rolling  my eyes back and henry was like bitch plz. 

9:48pm: We’re back at Mark’s pad and I am fucking tired and half-drunk. I think I need to sign off. Tomorrow is Koreatown+additional exploring! I even brought my real camera! 

The countdown is HEATING UP. We leave tomorrow morning for Toronto! Today, I said to Henry, “I feel so nervous and excited! How about you?”

“The same,” he said.

“REALLY, YOU FEEL NERVOUS & EXCITED TOO?”

“No, I mean I feel the same way I always feel,” he sighed.

Ugh. I thought we were bonding.

The other night, I was walking around Brookline, when this email came through:

OMGGGG it’s so real now. My legs turned to jello and I had to sit down on a bench.

“did you tell the homeless person to move first?” Glenn deadpanned the next day as I told the story of Receiving the Email. I drag my work friends down with me. The amount of people who told me to have fun this weekend as they walked past my desk was touching and also kind of hilarious because I guess this is what happens when you’re loud and relentless about your obsessions.

Sigh.

In an effort to distract myself, here are some non-G-dragon related thangs:

• I received an alert today from some news site, NY Times or something, can’t remember, that said something about how kohlrabi is bypassing kale as the new “it” vegetable and I legit wailed, “what why?! I’ve been eating kohlrabi for years!” From her office, Lori laughed and said, “Poor Erin. It’s hard being ahead of the curve.” God next thing you know, ttkeokbokki will be the new “it” festival food, ugh! (Actually, that would be amazing.)
• I don’t know my blood type.

• I was late shift today so Chooch and I got to hang out a bit this morning. We’ve been getting along so well lately! (NOT A JOKE.)

• It me.
• Gayle asked me if I’m going to buy a dragon beanie baby to throw onstage Sunday and I was like NO GAYLE NO ONE DOES THAT AND BESIDES, GDRAGON IS TOO FRAGILE UGH!
  • However, now I kind of want to buy a dragon beanie baby for myself. Do they exist? What’s a Google?
  • Lol at “non-G-Dragon related things.” I tried.
• Taeyang (from Bigbang) is doing his first solo US tour and I’m going to see him in Chicago! I got my ticket the other day (just one, because they’re expensive and it was either go alone or don’t go at all) and I’m really excited! Todd and Glenn were extremely relieved that I got a ticket.
• Remember when I posted the Guacamole Song on here last week? Well, I shared it with some peeps at work and it turned into a thing. Some people were like, “Thanks a lot, Erin” and other people were like, “THIS IS BORING” and walked away at the “form the orange” but then that same person danced to the entire song last Friday in Lori’s office, for all to see, so I GUESS IT’S NOT SO BORING NOW, IS IT CATHERINE. Also, the “peel the tomato” part was a huge source of contention for some people in the office.
  • God, last Friday was pretty fantastic for a work day. It’s been a long time since we were all that giddy! I’d like to think it’s because it was jeans day, and it was jeans day because I fought for it to be jeans day! YOU’RE WELCOME.

• My Facebook hiatus is going strong! It’s been about a month and a half and I have no desire to resurrect it. I think we could all use a little social media detox here and there and even though I’m still using Instagram, I have noticed that I am definitely on my phone much less. I’m sure I’ll come back eventually, but with more restraints and limits, because I have photos there that I can’t access currently, which is something my idiot self didn’t consider. The only downside to not being on Facebook is that a lot of my friends thought that I unfriended them and that is 100% not the case at all! Nate just came over to my desk yesterday to ask me about it because he was like, “But why would she unfriend me? She just gave me a lychee today!” :(
• Oh shit, there’s this sandwich shop that Chooch and I have eaten at several times in the next town over called Parker’s, but they’re moving to Brookline! It’s actually about the same walking distance but more convenient because we don’t have any cross any big roads now, phew. Anyway, this has been in the works for MONTHS now, and actually when I first noticed that something was moving into this empty restaurant, there was no info whatsoever other than a bunch of newspapers taped to the windows, with coffee cups and “P”s drawn on it. I was like THAT LOOKS LIKE THE PARKER’S ‘P’ and sure enough, they eventually announced on Instagram that they were moving into larger digs. But it’s been months and months of no new developments, until last week when the storefront was painted and “Parker’s” is now boldly displayed in white paint. THEN TONIGHT, Chooch and I were on our nightly stroll (it’s our thing now and I love it because he rambles on and on and I love it when he tells me shit) and we noticed that there were two spots where the newspaper was peeled back, purposely it seemed, to provide tiny rectangular peepholes. Of course we shoved our way over to get a closer look and the inside looks SO FUCKING CUTE I CAN’T WAIT UNTIL IT OPENS. Henry’s not allowed to go with us though. He wouldn’t understand the appeal….
  • ….which is the Parker’s proprietor Luke, whom I have a crush on, lol.