I started off the day learning the hard way that you musn’t spray canola oil on a hot pan. If I hadn’t already lost most of my eyebrows during the Great Overplucking of the 90s, today would have been their funeral fo sho. 

I was running around screaming about the injustice of it all, like who is supposed to know that would happen?? when Henry calmly said, “Well, everyone. It says it on the directions.”

“The PAN has directions?!” I cried. 

“No! The can of cooking spray!”

“Srsly? Why does a can of cooking spray need directions? Like, who would read that?” I said indignantly. 

“People like YOU are the reason those directions are there,” Henry sighed. 

(I know you guys: how does Henry “tolerate” me? He must be a “Saint.” “Job is going to shake his hand when he gets to Heaven.” Because our relationship is something he “tolerates” or “puts up with.”)

Honestly though, that flame went up SO HIGH. This is what happens when Henry takes too long waking up and I take breakfast matters into my own hands. :/

It’s all his fault. Just like it was his fault for failing to buy me a bag of coffee for work, creating a MAJOR CRISIS last Friday which culminated in Catherine and I colluding in a dangerous k-cup robbery from Lori’s office which I tried to reason was ok because one time she told me I was welcome to the candy she keeps in the one drawer and her k-cups were one drawer beneath that one, so…And then Catherine was so fraught with guilt that she left a dollar on Lori’s desk. The much anticipated conclusion to this is that Lori returned to work on Wednesday amd Catherine FLEW into her office before Lori even set her purse down, blurting out her confession and waiting to receive penance. There was a tense moment when we weren’t sure if Lori was going to throw a stapler and yelled, “Cash me ousside!” but turns out she had used up all her fucks on games 3 and 4 of the Stanley Cup finals and had little left in the tank to use on a stolen k-cup. She even gave Catherine her dollar back (had I known, I would have stolen that too!) Then when Todd got to work later that day, he said, “Oh yeah, I’m telling Lori you stole from her” and I was like OMG SHE ALREADY KNOWS! EVERYONE KNOWS! I’M A DIRTY THIEF!

I mean…

Ahem. 

SUBJECT CHANGE. 

Here are some pictures from this day, Saturday, June 10, 2017. 

We moved Chooch’s keyboard out of his bedroom and onto the backporch. Well, let me rephrase that: Henry and I kept saying that’s what we were going to but Chooch is the one who finally did it on his own accord because he was tired of waiting for his parents to finish watching Running Man and take care of him. 

Last night, I walked past him and saw that he had found the music for BigBang’s “Haru Haru” and decided to try and learn it! The coolest part is that he realized one of the notes was off and FIXED IT. He’s really good at playing by ear, which is something he definitely didn’t get from either one of us. 

He played it for Henry and made him guess what it was. Henry knew it was Bigbang right away but not what song because Henry never knows song names except for Ted Nugent ones. 

Early afternoon, we went to Kohl’s so I could buy new jeans and for the first time in years I didn’t have an emotional breakdown in the fitting room, 고맙습니다, Korea!!!!

Anyway, the whole point of mentioning Kohl’s is that there were these two middle-aged women loudly airing their dirty laundry RIGHT NEXT TO THE LAUREN CONRAD SECTION so I had to stand practically butted up against them, enduring their not-even-interesting drama. They were there every time I came back around and at one point I said loudly to Henry that they should take their lame bitch fest out to the parking lot instead of polluting our ears with it, because that’s how I handle conflict with strangers: passive aggressively, with loud immaturity. 

It was honestly the only time I was mad all day though so that’s pretty huge. I’m usually mad MANY times. 

I imprinted on this red leaf banana thing at some nursery we went to today. 

“Who imprints on a banana leaf plant?!” Henry cried. 

Um, me — I literally just said that?!

Henry wouldn’t buy it because it was $80 and that’s like a lot for a plant I guess? I literally do not know the value of a dollar. 

Chooch chose a plant for himself and mused, “I’ll name him A-ha, because I want to take him on.” OK, 80s kid?

Pet cemetery visit:( Chooch and I got really emotional and Henry didn’t know what to do so he just walked away because he doesn’t love animals. 

Obligatory ice cream from Yough Twist down the street from the pet cem. “Ugh I forgot this place has the inferior sprinkles!” I cried with my head back, dramatic damsel I am. 

“What’s wrong with them?” Henry and Chooch asked in tandem. 

“Well in addition to not being properly rainbow, they have a chalky taste,” I snapped because duh, just look at them. 

Beneath the inadequate sprinkled shell sat a perfect black raspberry & vanilla twist though, so once I hate-ate the sprinkles, I was good to go. 

Henry and Chooch also had ice cream, blah blah blah. 

Drew is like, “No really, you can trust me. I’m just gonna sit on them and help them grow.” 🙄

But seriously, these little propagations are coming along swimmingly in spite of PENELOPE digging them up once a week. 

Henry made me a snack plate with pineapple, kimchi, and pickled daikon – it was so refreshing. So refreshing that I went back for more pineapple which I then left out on the kitchen counter.  

“You left the pineapple out,” Henry said when he was visiting the kitchen later on. He sighed and put it away. 

Which is the exact outcome I expected, so why bother putting it away myself?

*******

In other news, G-Dragon’s new music is the most wonderful thing I’ve heard in so long and it made it to #1 on iTunes in 39 countries including the US which is crazy to me because most Americans I know are incredibly narrow-minded & ignorant when it comes to anything that’s not in English. Omg so weird and inferior. 

I still can’t believe I’m going to see him next month! I was thinking about it on the trolley yesterday, trying to imagine how I will react when I first see him, and I started to cry openly in front of people which sadly isn’t the first time that’s happened on the trolley. Dat bi-polar life, y’all.

******

It’s 8’oclock now and Chooch has stains all over my treasured Howard Jones shirt. Should I cry, laugh, or burn down the kitchen for real this time? I JUST DONT KNOW. GOODBYE. 

When I went to bed last night, there was a little over 5 hours left before G-Dragon’s comeback. I’m on late shift today and usually try to sleep in a bit, but my internal fan girl alarm woke me up a few minutes ago and the first thing I did was go to YouTube to see if the new MV was out and it is and it is beautiful and now I’m over here crying. My love for G-Dragon is reaching critical Robert Smith levels. 

His album is being released on a USB drive, why is he so cool omg. 

“Bullshit” was supposed to be his first single, but I guess in light of recent events with TOP, he decided to go with this softer track and I’m glad. I can’t imagine how stressful this is for him to have to go through a record release and a world tour thy starts in two days while TOP is in the hospital from a drug overdose, which is all I have been able to focus on this week, constantly refreshing for updates and praying that the guy doesn’t die!

When the news first broke early Tuesday morning, I went to work all shook over it and Glenn of course was no help, mocking the situation every which way, until I finally marched over to Amber’s desk and cried, “I think Glenn and I need to be separated today!” Ugh!

“If this happened to someone you like, I wouldn’t make fun of them!” I yelled at him. “Like, what if this was happening to, I don’t know, Jethro Tull?!”

“I wouldn’t care because I don’t know him personally!” Glenn laughed. 

OMG sociopath! 

I had so many emotions going through me that I probably would have flipped a table if I wasn’t at work. I mean, I’m fine. Nothing to see here. 

But in related news, Amber awarded me with the Golden Thumb* for the week due to my emotional trauma. I chose BBQ Pringles as my prize.

*(This is what my group passes around to whoever did a great job which is obviously always me but apparently we have to let other people get it sometimes too. 🙄)

Anyway, the whole TOP sitch is so messed up (last I heard this morning, he had finally opened his eyes) and it makes me sad that the pressure from Korean society basically did this to him. Being a Kpop idol is no joke, guys. And it makes me worry about G-Dragon too. I just want to hug all of them and I hate hugging people. 

#StayStrongTOP 

Maybe GD’s album will wake him up??

Well, another day with the covfefe king, another giant step backward for humanity. Every news alert has me stunned, just when I thought I couldn’t be any more stunned. So I’m just going to leave this super adorable video of Twice ordering ice cream on here because I’m mentally exhausted and extremely sad, and I think we could all use some ice cream and adorable Kpop idols in our lives right at this moment (i.e. Coping Mechanisms). 

I get to see them in three weeks!!

I. There was a water leak one day last week at work, nearly right above Gayle’s desk. It must have happened over night and by the time I got there in the morning, a yellow WET FLOOR sign was in place and there was this orange industrial fan thing that turned the corridor into a wind tunnel. It made me feel like I was walking through an 80s hair metal video, like I was Tawny Kitaen.  HAHA OK LET’S NOT GO THAT FAR. I accused Glenn of causing the leak, and cried sabotage. “Don’t you think it would have been over your desk, then?” he droned. Valid point, Work Enemy. 

That fan was on all day long and it was aimed directly at Lauren, who eventually succumbed and put on her jacket. None of us could hear each other talking either which was either a good thing or a bad thing depending on who you asked, I guess. 

II. We went to visit our pal Patty on Sunday at the nursing facility she currently resides. We stopped in the activity center briefly, where Patty encouraged Chooch to play the piano. At first he just pressed down on one key and I was like, “Ugh my kid is so rude, sorry he thinks he’s too cool to play the piano for you guys, kbye” but then he pulled out the bench, sat down, and played some jazzy tune his teacher Lavendar taught him and I was like “DID I KNOW YOU COULD DO THAT?!” All the ladies and one of the nurses loved it and he got a hearty round of applause AND a popsicle for his efforts. He was satisfied. 

The best part was that midway through the song, Henry was walking down the hall toward us and could hear the piano and thought there was some entertainment going on in there – little did he know our son was the entertainment. 

He barely practices but somehow manages to wing. SO JEALOUS. I have zero musical talent. I was decent at clarinet but I had to work hard at thy shit. This kid can hear a song and figure out how to play it.  What a jerk. 

Lavender is also teaching Chooch how to play the drums now too so PLEASE GOD, LET HIM HAVE A FUTURE IN MUSIC. 

III. I went nuts of nowhere the other day and screamed, “Every time I think about the G-Dragon concert, I feel like I’m going numb!”

Henry said sadly, “Yeah. Me too.”

I honestly haven’t been this excited for a concert since the first time I saw the Cure!

HIS COMEBACK ALBUM COMES OUT ON JUNE 8th! I might have to take the day off work. 

IV.  Chooch plucked this plant-thing out of the ground two years ago when we were visiting Octavia in Savannah because I thought it was a rogue succulent in the wild. It was only about three inches tall then and now look at it! Henry said that’s because it’s a weed. No, YOU’RE a weed, Henry!!

(Actually, I’m pretty scared of it. It has a reptilian quality about it and sometimes I half expect it to start hissing at me. :/)

V. Lastly, here is my current favorite song that I put on everyday as soon as I get in the car after work:

Friday was one of those days where you hate to complain because when the words come out of your mouth, all you can think is “WOW THIS IS PETTY.” But I was stuck in that “wrong side of the bed” mindset and every little thing was under my skin. 

It was raining. I had to walk to the trolley in the rain. Some asshole car splashed me in the face. I was sitting on some yellow stain of ill repute. I got talked over a million times at work until I eventually just went silent for awhile. Everything was annoying. I had a headache that wouldn’t go away even after visiting Gayle’s Pharmacy. My umbrella blew inside out as soon as I went outside for a walk. I was so vicious to Henry on the phone but he took it like a champ because this is his norm. 

Stupid stuff, but sometimes that shit builds up and I can’t just brush it off everyday. Some days I just lack the resolve and gotta let the hate flow. This was that day. 

After work, Henry and I were supposed to meet our friend Jason and his girlfriend at the 68 show at Smiling Moose. They ended up having to cancel earlier in the day, but we still had tickets and a babysitter, so our plans were the same. 

Except that by the end of the work day, I was DONE. My headache was still there. I was hungry. My hair was frizzy from the rain. I forgot to bring a shirt and shoes to change into and I just felt UMCOMFORTABLE. I had no joy left in the tank.

From the moment I got in the car, I started bitching. Henry was calm as ever because he knew the nucleus of this bitchfest was hunger. Feed the girl, save the world. 

Originally, we were going to eat at the Moose before the show, but I knew all day that this wasn’t happening because I forgot to ask earlier in the week if I could leave work early and I knew by the time we got there it would already be packed since it was Friday. 

And I was right. 

FUCK EVERYTHING! LIFE SUCKS!

I mean….now, now Erin. Let’s not be petty. 

So we canvassed Carson St and I haughtily shot down every one of Henry’s suggestions with a flaming arrow of estrogen and hanger – that mix you fuck with only if you want to die. 

Henry kept trying to make me laugh and I was like YOUR JOKES ARE NOT SUPPRESSING MY HUNGER. Maybe put a fucking punchline inside a bowl of bibimbap, dumbass! UGH!!

Ultimately, I decided that I wanted to blow off the show even though at one point I had been genuinely looking forward to it, because I wasn’t sure if a crowd was going to exacerbate my total bitchfaced attitude or what. 

“Let’s just go home!” I yelled and Henry calmly said, “Ok. Whatever you want. I’m just glad to be spending time with you” and then I had to pause to puke in a discarded pizza box because bitch, please. 

Driving out of Southside, Henry suggested we try Onion Maiden, a metal-themed vegan restaurant we had been wanting to try since it opened but then forget about it every time we’re looking for a place to eat. 

You know how it is. 

So we rolled up to Onion Maiden and the dinner rush hadn’t yet hit so at least I didn’t have to be overwhelmed by a crowded restaurant on top of everything else. 

It wasn’t the Korean food that I was craving, but they at least had some Korean-inspired menu items. 

We started with a plate of cashew cheese, chutney, mini baguette, apple slices, and “Killing Yoke” deviled (faux) eggs. That’s what’s up.

Henry shared his order of Graves at Sea with me, and also ordered Coffins (I had a bite and immediately had ordering remorse). I got the Kimmy Gimmler of course because: kimchi. 

It was great but definitely wouldn’t have held up as a dinner entree on its own. Luckily, we had that cheese plate and tots too or I would have been ready to eat my arm an hour later. 

Henry got some vegan donut for dessert and I had the cheesecake special: The New Rose, which had like, rose, beets and hibiscus or something. 

It was good BUT—not as good as the raw cheesecake I had at this one vegan restaurant in Cleveland. I can’t remember the name of it now. Earth Something, probably. 

Props to the punny menu. It lifted my spirits and smothered the fury rising up from my belly. I was in a much better mood after that!

(Zenith is still bae, though.)

https://instagram.com/p/BUgEgz5lzz1/

On my way to work today, one of the G-Dragon fan accounts I follow on Instagram (DON’T JUDGE) posted this snip of GD laughing from the last Run BIGBANG Scout episode (which was so adorable, btw, and I cried) and it just instantly cheered me up. HIS FACE!

Of course the first thing I did when I got to work was squeal, “DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE CUTEST THING EVER?!” to Glenn, who is the worst audience for these types of inquiries but I’ll never learn.

“Is it puppies or kittens?” he mumbled, not looking up from whatever riveting thing he had on his computer screen. PROBABLY SOME COMMENT SECTION SINCE HE’S A TROLL.

“NO EVEN BETTER IT’S G-DRAGON LAUGHING OMG,” I wheezed, shoving my phone at him.

He only glanced at it and then sighed, closing his eyes in defeat.

“LOOK AT HIM, GLENN!” I yelled.

“I did! I looked once. That’s enough,” he said, resuming his boring, American day.

**********

Later, I was talking to Lori about this and first, she asked me when I’m ever going to learn, but then she asked me when the G-Dragon concert is and I told her July 30.

“I can’t believe I’m going to see his face in real life,” I said all dreamily with googly eyes just like girls did in the 50s when they talked about cute soda jerks or whatever.

“We should make a countdown calendar,” Lori suggested. “I’m going to make one.”

This of course got me all wound up and I excitedly told Glenn and Amber. 

“Why do you encourage her?” Glenn asked Lori, while I was busy making Diabolical Finger Steeples at him.

I’m going to make a sparkly dragon to move along all the squares of the countdown calendar!

Sandy overheard this and called out from her office, “How long until the concert?”

“TWO MONTHS AND FIVE DAYS!” I shouted across the floor. 

I couldn’t see Sandy from my desk but I bet she was probably repeatedly slamming her hand in a desk drawer at the thought of two more months of G-Dragon anticipation. 

And then I told Amber about how Glenn didn’t have the appropriate response to the G-Dragon Laughing video. 

“Well she hyped it up as the cutest thing in the world,” Glenn defensively said to Amber. 

“Was it?” she asked. 

“No!” he said. 

Maybe if I post it in a comment section….

Here are some pictures I took over the last several days, before some motherfucker piece of shit bombed an Ariana Grande concert. I seriously just can’t take it anymore – WHY CANT SUPERHEROES BE REAL?! WHEN WILL CHRIS PRATT SAVE THE WORLD?! Literally nowhere is safe. Nowhere. 

Don’t you sometimes wish you could be a cat, completely oblivious to the explosions and rapes and obstruction of justice going on in the world? Oh, to be Peen Lop, lounging on a devil rug with Pink Mousey, if only for a day. 

A great distraction of mine is to constantly watch South Korea tourism videos on YouTube. Above is what Chooch’s face looked like when I made him watch the fortieth vlog of Jeju Island. (They recently unveiled a forest named after G-Dragon! I AM GOING.)

Drew getting ready to take a bite out of Chooch’s delicious arm. 

My car thought I was listening to Winger and not the smooth Kpop boy group, Winner. 

After Chooch graciously posed for photos at Buttermilk Falls, Henry had to hurry and find somewhere to eat because he knew he was running out of time before the Hanger Eclipse occurred. Honestly, there is a small window of time when Chooch and I are in good spirits and if we’re late for a feeding by even fifteen minutes, get ready for heads to spin and pea soup to fly. Luckily, Henry found a place called Ree’s and he insists we’ve eaten there before but I DO NOT RECALL. We had great service though even though some other waitress came over and tricked me into doing her job for her by having me replace the sugar and sweeteners. 

Ugh, work. 

Anyway this place ruled because they had veggie wraps and one of my favorite kinds of French fries. Not the elusive Good Kinds (you wouldn’t understand) but the thin, greasy, golden ones that are just so wonderful that I cleaned the plate of them and then felt sick for the rest of the day because French fries are not a regular staple of my K-diet and my stomach was like ABORT ABORT WHERE IS THE KIMCHI. 

Afterward, we went to the Beaver Valley Mall because that’s where the closest Game Stop was located and if you must know, I had to bribe my child with a DS game in order for him to willingly pose for portraits. 

Ugh I hate this!

Anyway, they didn’t have what he wanted, but we sure enjoyed meandering about a mall that looked like it hasn’t been updated since the 70s but still somehow had patrons milling about it. 

On the way out, Henry found a tiny bottle of disappearing ink in the mulch outside the entrance, and Chooch forgot all about fidget spinners and Nintendo DS games for a few minutes while he squirted invisible ink all over Henry’s back. It was great. Team Chooch.

(Dont worry, he got his dumb game later one when he and I walked to the Exchange in Dormont and the sales guy and I awkwardly touched hands when I was paying for the game and Chooch thought it was the funniest thing ever while my soul was slowly crushing in a vice of human contact.)

The next day, we went to the Strip to hit up the Asian markets, which is the only time I will joyfully tag along with Henry because it’s where I get all my candy for the Pumpkin of Horrors (which hasn’t been too horrible lately, except that something in there apparently pulled out one of Sandy’s fillings, so we can’t drop the “Horrors” just yet). But we also usually get a package of Samanco, which is the ice cream version of carp bread, and filled with wonderful red bean. Chooch just recently decided he likes red bean so when we go to S. Korea, he’ll be living off of red bean ice cream, hotteok, and, I don’t know, candy probably. Maybe we’ll pack some astronaut food for him. 

Henry made me bibimbap for dinner Sunday night and then dropped me off at the Balance & Composure show with a full and happy belly. 

Waited so long for the Twin Peaks return to finally happen and then of course I wasn’t home to watch it live. Henry and I watched the first episode today after work. I need some time to process, but I’m definitely along for the ride. I’m hoping it will inspire me to finally finish the painting I started three years ago! (It just needs some detailing but I’m the laziest fake artist you’ll ever meet. Planets have to be properly aligned for me to feel inspired these days, I guess.)

And here’s a Sistar video for good measure. Sweet dreams. 

ETA: nooooooooooo

My decision to attend the recent A Lot Like Birds show at Smiling Moose was pretty last minute. Kurt Travis was the clean vocalist of this band, and half the reason why I loved them so much, but he was basically kicked out last year due to “creative differences.”

That’s always the reason!

I was so broken up over this! How could they go on without him?! No one could replace him! First Dance Gavin Dance, and now…et tu, ALLB?

Turns out, they didn’t totally replace him. Cory, the screamer, took over clean vocals, along with bassist Matt Coate. I only had the courage to listen to one song and I ended up really liking it a lot, inspite of its Kurt Travis-less vibes. :(

So I sucked it up and bought a ticket, and ended up having a fantastic time. 

I’ll try to make this short and sweet because oh god no, not another concert recap. 

So here are some things I want to remember:

• Atlas Decay was the local opener. This was my fifth or sixth time seeing them and they are fine. 
• No natter how “at home” I feel at Smiling Moose, the fact that the room is as narrow as a Trump-supporter’s mind and cluttered with the gear of EVERY BAND PLAYING will forever have me constantly being in everyone’s way no matter where I stand. Sigh. 
• I saw the local band photographer that I briefly met outside Diesel at last year’s Hotel Books show and we pretended like we didn’t know each other, just like the last three times we saw each other at shows. #mutualsocialawkwardness

• When the second band – OWEL- started setting up, I knew in my heart I would like them because they had a girl member and she HAD A VIOLIN. I later learned that she also plays the viola and keyboard and she sings as well. Once they started playing, the deal was sealed. I loved them. If you need me, I’ll just be following them around on tour. (I mean, vicariously on Instagram. Sigh.)

OWEL YOU HAVE MY HEART. 

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• Next up was Hearts Like Lions. I saw them last year, also at that same Hotel Books show with the awkward photographer, so I was geeked to see them again, except that they weren’t as good as I remembered. Not that they sucker! Maybe the sound was a bit off or something but I wasn’t as drawn in as I was the first time. 
• Their set ended around 8 so I went back to the bar to get a drink (a Hoegaarten, ugh) and decided to forego the fourth band and watch at least the first period of the Pens game since I never get to anymore because we’re a No Cable Household (which was coincidentally the name of of the band I was skipping – just Household, not No Cable Household, to be clear) – and I’m still mostly OK with this decision! But….hockey. Anyway, they were down 0-4 before the period was even over so I chugged my gross beer and peaced out. 
• Finding a sort-of decent spot out of the way of the bands in the middle of moving their gear around, I occupied myself by staring intently into my phone (much like I’m doing now at the Balance & Composure show, waiting alone for it start), when suddenly I head someone say, “Did you see Emarosa when they were here last week?” I looked up and a guy in a Dance Gavin Dance shirt was looking at my expectantly. OH NO A CONVERSATION. WHAT TO DO? HOW TO TALK? I said I had, and realized not only was I wearing an Emarosa shirt, but it was one that just had the face of a fox on it and nothing about Emarosa. So he was a true Emarosa fan then! Fuck I forget his name already. Ryan? Mike? I don’t know, but his wife’s name was Ashley and they were both just wonderful. We talked about all the best bands and I showed them the video of Chooch crowdsurfing and of course they were disappointed to learn he wasn’t there that night. EVERYBODY LOVES CHOOCH. (OH MY LORD the laugh on this bitch standing in the bar at this Balance & Composure show is manufactured straight from the flames of hell. PLEASE LET THE FIRST BAND START SOON.) Anyway, that was awesome. Once I start talking to a stranger about music, it’s like ok me again. 
• ALLB came on and played their new album Divisi in its entirety and you know what? They killed it. It was still ALLB, just without Kurt. I pretended that Kurt was taking a sick day. Yeah, that’s it. Cory did a bang-up job with those clean vocals, and Matt looked positively joyful singing along with him. And in between songs, when we were all clapping and showing our approval, Matt said thank you and just beamed as he looked out at all of our dumb faces. It was humbling. It’s easy to turn your back on a band when your favorite member is ousted, but these guys are just way too talented to give up on. Even though my heart turned into a pulpy, aortic mosaic when Matt sang the “you’re already undressed” line from Properties of Friction. OH KURT :(

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And that concludes my succinct summary of the A Lot Like Birds show at Smiling Moose. I’m glad I got to see them many times already with Kurt and I’m gonna stick with them on this new journey. 

This post is brought to you by the letters ㅈ, ㅎ, and me standing alone miserably in between bands at the Balance & Composure show. 

Oh hey, today I woke up and decided that I wanted to boss around Henry and Chooch some, and the best way I know to do that is to find some schmancy get-up to stuff Chooch in and then yell at Henry to hand me whatever lens I need. I DON’T KNOW THEIR NAMES. I AM A FAKE PHOTOGRAPHER.

We went to Buttermilk Falls, which was the location of the picnic we had once in celebration of me not dying on a carnival ride in 2013. (I just made the sign of the cross, because I’m religious when I feel like it.) Instead of just dumping these so-so pictures here, I thought it would be fun to ask Chooch some questions about his life currently.

Me: I’m going to ask you some questions now. Isn’t this fun?

Chooch: *heavy sigh*

Me: What’s your favorite thing about 5th grade?

Chooch: I don’t know. Why do you make me do this.

Me: Was the grilled cheese Wesley’s mom made you better than my grilled cheeses?

Chooch: You don’t even make grilled cheese…..do you?

Me: No…

Chooch: Exactly.

Me: What is your current favorite Kpop song?

Chooch: Ugh. No. Um, “Signal” I guess?

Me: What is your current favorite food?

Chooch: Veggie burger.

Me: Talk about being a vegetarian.

Chooch: It’s amazing.

Me: What is your favorite TV show?

Chooch: Um, hard to say. I have a lot that I watch on Netflix.

Me: Well, just recommend three of them.

Chooch: They’re all kids shows! No one cares!

Me: UGH FORGET IT. NEXT QUESTION.

Me: What was it like to crowd-surf at the Emarosa show?

Chooch: Spooky, and scary…skeletons.

Me: You’re wearing a Cardboard Swords shirt in these pictures. Would you recommend them to people?

Chooch: Sure. You recommend every band you like to people, so why not.

(I think what he means is that I shove my music faves in everyone’s face constantly.)

Me: Talk about Spencer.

Chooch, in his weird Corgi Mania voice: Spencer!! *throaty giggles* Spencer’s awesome! Spencer’s a Corgi! No, not a Corgi. An amazing Corgi. A Corgi who walks past my house everyday and I pet him and he loves me!

(Chooch honestly gets delirious in Spencer’s presence. He was excited yesterday because now Spencer rolls over when he sees him and I was like “Yeah probably so you’ll think he’s dead and leave him alone!”)

Me: Why do you reject Korean food?

Chooch: Because YOU like it.

(Oh that little fucker better wait. His birthday cake next year is going to be one giant chapssal-tteok.)

Me: Why don’t you have a hand in this picture?

Chooch: I went to a bar and someone stabbed it off of me.

Me: Any big plans for when Grandma Judy watches you alllllll summer long? Family Feud marathons? Go Fish for money?

Chooch: I’ll be going to Wesley’s all day.

Me: What if Wesley goes to camp?

Chooch: Well then I go to camp.

(WHAT IS SO FUCKING GREAT ABOUT WESLEY.)

Me: If you started a band, what would you call it?

Chooch: The Bambi Penises. 

(He’s been calling Drew “Bambi” lately, and we call Penelope “Penis” sometimes, so there’s that.)

Me: what’s so great about those dumb spinners that every kid has suddenly?

Chooch: They come in a whole bunch of different varieties!

Me: Wow. Riveting. DONT YOU KNOW YOU CAN DIE FROM THOSE. 

Me: If you were a tour guide in Pittsburgh, where would you take your tourists?

Chooch: Spencer’s house. *erupts in giggles. 

Me: *MEGA EYE ROLL*

Me: Do you think the Penguins will win the Stanley Cup?

Chooch, with that cheery monotone enthusiasm of Today’s Youth: Yeah. Hopefully.

Me, bothering Chooch while he’s trying to concentrate on some adult connect the dots book he got today, and not “adult” as in connect the STDs to each porn star, but as in each page has hundreds of numbers: Quick do a haiku. 

Chooch: Bambi is special / Peen Lop never gives a crap / She needs more friends quick. 

Me: If you could be penpals with any celebrity in the world, who would it be?

Chooch: Dan & Phil.

Me: That’s two people, and they’re not even celebrities, they’re lame YouTubers. 

Chooch: They live in the same place! Fine, just Dan. 

Me: Do you want to go watch Running Man with me. 

Chooch: NO.

“Touch My Medal”

A few weeks ago, I was walking home from CVS. It was the day of the Pittsburgh Marathon. There were people ahead of me who were waking too slow and I didn’t feel like passing them so I crossed over to the other side of the street which I rarely walk on.

THESE ARE ALL IMPORTANT FACTS CONDUCIVE TO MY STORY. 

So I’m walking, walking, walking when suddenly, from the opened passenger door of a parked car comes a familiar sounding “Hello!” Shit, I think, slowing my roll. I looked over and sure enough it’s JOE, the neighborhood Mr. Atlas who loves to strut around town in the summer in semi-indecent runners shorts and a greased-down mega-tanned body. He’s probably in his late 50s so it’s a little much, you know?

(Sorry all you quinquagenarians.)

Anyway, if there are any long-time readers left on this sinking ship, they might remember Joe as the man who ever so briefly deemed himself our official lawn mower back in, say, 2006 or 2007. Except he would always show up unexpectedly and then want to get paid and I never had cash on me! So then it turned it A Thing, like the paperboy on Better Off Dead, and Henry one day was like “Wait–why is he even cutting our grass anyway?”

I think he was the official grasscutter of whoever was living next to us at the time (some guy named Fish, I think), and I happened to be outside at some completely inopportune moment, probably with Chooch’s chubby baby-body clinging to me, rendering me unable to flee with the quickness, and I just couldn’t remember the word “no.”

So that’s how Joe started cutting our grass.

Then one day he decided he was going to be our personal landscaper as well when he saw an unplanted bed of flowers on the porch. He came at me with this grand blueprint involving Italian mulch filling up a tin triangle of our yard, with the price tag of $70. At the price, I suddenly remembered how to say no in 8 languages, including whichever one that is that involves a cool, swift kick to the nuts. German, probably.

OR RUSSIAN. 

So, after that rejection and having to chase down one last $7, Joe never came around again. We still see him all the time around town, but he always pretends like he doesn’t see us, those cheap motherfuckers at 3021 who don’t love their yard seventy dollars worth.

(We live on a main drag in Brookline, guy. I’m not paying $70 to have some drug addict or wino stumbling home from the bar at 2 in the afternoon vomit all up in the Italian mulch and petunias. I literally JUST watched some asshole puke on the sidewalk near our house and then I almost STEPPED in it the next day. So fucking gross.)

So back to the Pittsburgh Marathon day. Joe is sitting in the passenger side of a parked car, one leg out on the sidewalk, cordially saying hello to me like he’s so excited to see me after all these years.

I said hello back and figured that would be the end of it, but then he asked me how I’ve been and if there’s one thing I love doing, IT’S TALK ABOUT MYSELF ALL FUCKING DAY LONG, so that was enough to get me to linger for an additional second.

But it was just a fucking ploy to brag to me about how he ran in the marathon that day.

“How come I didn’t see you down there?” he asked me in a gross, flirtatious chide. And then I became acutely aware of the fact that before I left the house, I realized my lips were stained with the black icing I was using on the baby shower cookies and I had used HOT PINK lipstick to cover it up for the time being. I mean, my lips were practically beacons for my bordello, a neon sign displaying my going rate.

I fought the urge to wipe it off with the back of my hand, because then I’d just look like I woke up from a bender, so instead I politely said, “Because I don’t run” and almost started telling him that I’m more of a Kpop dancer before I realized that WAIT A MINUTE, I was trying end this conversation, not open up a side topic with dance numbers. 

I hoped that would be the end, please let me leave, release me from your small talk chains.

“Do you want to see my medal?” he asked.

I mean…kind of?

I shrugged. “Sure.”

He lifted it from his neck and I pretended to be really amazed but look bro, it ain’t the fucking Secret of NIMH amulet.

“You can touch it,” he urged, thrusting it toward me.

UGH SO I TOUCHED HIS FUCKING MEDAL, OK?! I DID IT.

UGH it probably had so much of his sweat dried to it.

———————————————————————————-

“The Secret Life of Chooch”

When I came home from work on Tuesday, Chooch immediately started jawing off about how we didn’t pack him a lunch for his track meet that day, how could we, we’re the worst, etc etc.

But let’s back up a few hours.

Earier that afternoon, Henry sent me a screenshot of Chooch’s school’s Facebook page, which I do NOT follow because I don’t want any of them knowing me. (“Oh my god, can you imagine if the school found your blog?” Todd laughed. “‘That lady’s a MOM?!'” And then I laughed too but it’s only kind of funny considering that’s already happened to me once at a different school.)

So this screenshot. Back to the screenshot.

It was a picture of the boys track team at their meet earlier that day.

And Chooch was front and center in that picture.

“Chooch is on the track team?” I texted back.

“Apparently,” Henry said.

THIS IS HOW WE FOUND OUT THAT NOT ONLY DOES HIS SCHOOL HAVE A TRACK TEAM, BUT OUR SON IS ON IT.

So Henry and I let him play out his sob story about how he was the only kid without a lunch (hello, he never packs a lunch! He eats the school lunch everyday!), and then when he finished, we started firing questions at him about this so-called track team.

“When do you even practice?” I asked.

“We only practiced once, yesterday after lunch,” Chooch said calmly because this kid knows he can weasel his way out of any conflict.

“Shouldn’t there have been a paper or something that we needed to sign?” Henry asked.

“There was. I signed it,” Chooch said with a shrug.

“What do you even do in track, anyway?” I asked him later.

“Long-jump. I came in sixth.” Long jump?? I didn’t even know he could short jump!

Ugh, come talk to me when you come in at least second, kid.

P.S. I wonder who that message is from in Henry’s Facebook screenshot? PROBABLY HIS GF, OBV. What if he proposes to her and not me?! Whatever–he’s taking me to see G-Dragon, not her. I win. 

Twice’s new single came out today and now I’m even more excited to see them next month ahhhh get your lightstick ready, Henry! (AND NO THATS NOT A EUPHEMISM…OR IS IT.)

Henry gave this video his highest score yet: “it’s ok.”

I can’t wait to get everyone at work to make antennae with their hands. Jjirit jjirit!

Today is Mother’s Day and it was fine. Nothing spectacular. We’re all lethargic a little from our Cleveland day trip yesterday, which always seems like no big thang until it’s 2:30am and we’re just rolling into Pittsburgh and I say “we” because I do everything short of propping my eyelids up with toothpicks in order to stay awake out of solidarity while Henry drives (and also because I have a huge fear of him falling asleep at the wheel). Needless to say, I was kicking myself for telling him we didn’t need to spend the night there. 

(That’s how yow know I’m serious about saving money! I HAVE MY EYE ON THE PRIZE.)

Chooch actually said Happy Mothers Day to me this morning without being prompted by Henry, which was nice I guess. Then he said, “I’ll make your coffee for you. Never mind, I don’t know how to make coffee” and then walked away when I tried to tell him to how. 

WHO DOES HE REMIND ME OF RIGHT NOW, I thought to myself. OH YEAH—ME. 

Chooch is too old now for teachers to force him to draw me some dumb picture or write some MOTHER acrostic and if Henry doesn’t remember to take him to the store to buy me at least a card, I get nothing. 

This was one of those years. But I’m still riding high on G-Dragon and KCON and also seeing Emarosa last night so I’m good. I mean, I’m still going to bitch about it because that’s who I am, but honestly I’m fine. 

I’m not a big breakfast fanatic so I told Henry to just make me an egg and an English muffin. Wow, when did I become so easy? Then Henry asked, “Do you want to watch Running Man since we didn’t get to watch it yesterday?” And he never seemed hotter to me than he did at that moment, except for Friday when he was like “Fine get the P4 KCON tickets instead of the P5.” 

So we watched Running Man and it happened to be the episode where they announce that Song Joon Ki is leaving and everyone on the show was crying and I was practically choking on my tears because they fell so fast that I wasn’t able to close my mouth in time. 

Wah. 

Um, what else. 

Henry made me a lovely bowl of dangnyeum for lunch and then we went to Jefferson Memorial for a walk even though Chooch declared that he suddenly doesn’t like cemeteries anymore? And I pouted because they weren’t putting me up on a grand enough Mom Pedestal, to which Chooch cried, “Literally every day is your day!” And ok fine he has a point but still. 

Then I made Chooch pose for this picture right after he was loudly talking about how he had to piss, not realizing that some broad was sitting in a nearby car with the window down, listening to his crude soliloquy:

I bet all the old rich suburban people preening their mothers’ graves really loved Chooch’s shirt. 

There was a patch of buttercups next to a stream in the cemetery, and I taught Chooch the whole “buttercup nose reflection” thing which really isn’t that big of a deal but I remember doing it a lot as a kid with my friends so maybe it was a big deal? I mean, we also weren’t preoccupied with Snapchat and Musicaly and cyber bullying back then, so the simple act of making the tip of our noses glow yellow was a fucking barrel of monkeys. 

 Chooch originally was unimpressed, but then a few minutes later he said, “No really, how does it turn your nose yellow?”

He’s kind of slow sometimes. 

We ended the day with a walk to Scoops, where a fourth grader came in and proceeded to stare at Chooch. 

“Do you know her?” Henry asked. 

“Yeah, she calls me Beaver.” And then when we stared at him expectedly, he casually added, “Because I ate a stick one time.”

Ugh, his reputation at school must be completely unenviable. 

On the way home, I was running like I was in the BTS “Run” music video and then Chooch was going to live at a bus stop and I was laughing so hard at everything that I was practically screaming and Henry just continued to walk faaaaaar ahead of us. 

So, that was my Mother’s Day. It was… a day. But yesterday was pretty close to perfection, so I guess it all evens out. 

“I met him when I was twenty-five.” The sticky dough was passed back and forth between Agatha’s hands and she kneaded it rhythmically until chubby logs were formed. “I had noticed him around town before — cruising down Main Street in his pimento-hued jalopy; one lanky arm, permanently marred with dots of trauma from his recurring bout with shingles, draped confidently over the side of the door. Grease the pan, Cecilia.”

“Mother, what’s a shingle?” Cecilia asked as she moved the stick of oleo along the cookie tray, edges of which were blackened from years of use. Agatha ignored her child’s inquiry as she methodically bathed each log of dough in a lake of sugar; she was lost in thought.

“We always seemed to be at Barb’s Taffy Stand at the same time. My mama said it was serendipity, but I argued that he was tailing me. Not wanting to surrender, I’d fixate on the wide, colorful bands of chewy sugar being pulled and stretched by metal arms, pretending not to notice that he was standing well inside normal human comfort zones, with his cowlick prominent and glistening from a daub of pomade, and his butterfly knife tucked into the front pocket of his jeans. I tried to ignore the acrid redolence of chewing tobacco bred with halitosis and a marinade of anchovies as he breathed his order for banana taffy too close to my nostrils.”

Agatha squirted several drops of red food coloring into a bowl and began folding it into the goo, creating sanguine swirls among the stark white frosting. She continued her tale, in no need of prodding.

“One day, we ended up in the same room together. I pretended to be immersed in a gossip rag, but every time I glanced up, I spied him making lewd gestures at me from across the room.”

“What kind of gestures, Mother?” Cecilia asked, dropping dough logs too-close-together on the tray.

“Well, like the universal sign for cunnilingus,” Agatha ruminated, quickly lashing her tongue between v-spread fingers, in an impetuous demonstration.

With Cecilia nodding to show her comprehension, Agatha continued. “After a few minutes, he sidled up next to me and whispered, ‘Hey broad, let’s blow this abortion clinic.'”

“Didn’t he mean ‘popsicle stand’?” Cecilia scrutinized.

“Oh, no dear,” Agatha chuckled. “We really were in an abortion clinic. He was there delivering pizzas and I was there—” She stopped when she saw Cecilia’s face, constricted with horror. “Oh honey, no!” laughed Agatha. “I wasn’t there to abort you. But let’s just say that if I hadn’t gone back the next day, you’d have a big brother or sister. Possibly inbred,” she mused.

“So,” Agatha continued, extracting the first batch of baked cookies from the oven. “Against my better judgment, I began seeing him. We’d meet up behind the bait shop, under the rusted train trestle, sometimes on an honest to goodness mattress. I kind of started to like him.” Agatha stared out the rain-streaked window.

“What went wrong, Mother?” Cecilia asked, her face furnished with curiosity and chicken pox scars.

Agatha seemed to bristle momentarily, but then forged on with the story. “I found out he was seeing someone else. Nancy Jenkins, the proprietor of the town bordello. They shared a Winnebago together, and kept it parked near the river bank where together they could share the perfect view of the sunset. I tried to be OK with being the mistress, his dirty secret, his fat-bottomed hussy, but my father told me that I deserved better than that, even despite my cleft palate.

“So I told him he had to break up with her,” Agatha recounted as she slid the cookies onto a cracked serving platter. “He seemed angry at my audacity, and I saw his hand gravitate, almost instinctively, toward his knife. But then he turned and left without a fight; I fear I’d never see him again. The next night, he showed up at my doorstep, holding out a red velvet ring box.”

Cecilia’s cookie-frosting came to a halt and she smiled up at her mother expectantly. Agatha finished dabbing the tip of Cecilia’s neglected cookie with a flourish of crimson frosting before continuing.

“I thought to myself, ‘This is it, Aggie. Someone’s finally going to make an honest woman of you,’ and I gingerly accepted the gift from his out-stretched hand. But there was no ring inside, Cecilia. Not even a pendant or a brooch.”

“Not even a key to his Winnebago?” Cecilia asked, befuddled.

“Not even a key.” Agatha licked her lips, gummy from being so chatty. “Inside that box, resting gently atop the velvet innards, was a finger.”

“A WHAT?”

“…a blue-nailed finger,” Agatha calmly repeated. “I never meant for him to kill her! It was all a misunderstanding,” Agatha rushed, assuaging Cecilia from conniptioning. “‘I said break up with her, not break her!‘ I hollered at him. He laughed and said, ‘Well babe, same end result either way, am I right?'”

“You left him after that, right Mother? You ran real fast, right? Tell me it’s so.”

“Well, not exactly, sweetheart. I had to stay with him…”

“…because you were pregnant with me? He got you pregnant didn’t he? He’s my real daddy isn’t he? And not that clown from the circus who stole our refrigerator!”

“Oh honey, no,” Agatha laughed into the tray of tampon-shaped cookies, freshly baked for the upcoming Menstruation Masquerade; it would be Cecilia’s first time attending. “It was because he had an enormous cock!”

[Originally published January 8, 2008. Reposted because I can do shit like that.]

“What’s wrong? Why are you so flushed?” Amber asked me this morning as she walked by my desk. 

I took a few seconds to compose myself before squealing, “I just watched this G-Dragon video,” at which point there was a collective groan of “oh my god” all around me. 

But then I let her watch it and she became obsessed with trying to make fingerhearts and by obsessed I mean she practiced doing it for like 15 seconds and then went back to being a professional adult while Glenn was using his hostage eyes to plead for her to take him with her as she walked away.

https://instagram.com/p/BTxyZnGDB0t/

Every time I made someone watch this video today, I would giddily whisper, “OMG what’s he looking for? Oh, oh! Fingerhearts.” And then I would clutch my heart and swoon. 

Wendy thought this was dumb but then she too tried to accomplish the perfect heart-shaped placement of the fingers. 

She was watching me do it and cried, “Why can’t I do it? My fingers won’t do it right! Why?”

“Because they’re yours,” I shrugged. 

“I couldn’t imagine what he was going to pull out of his pocket,” Todd said. “But then it was just fingerhearts. That’s time I’ll never get back.”

Whatever.  Lauren thought it was adorable. And Glenn is probably at home right now waving fingerhearts in front of his baby daughter’s face. 

Several years ago, Henry and I attempted to go to the Korean Food Bazaar at the Korean Church in Shadyside, but it was packed. Just driving by caused my heart rate to skyrocket at the hand of social anxiety.  But this year, I was determined! I wanted to eat all of the food that I basically eat everyday, only cooked by real Koreans and not my fake Korean chef Henry.

(He is actually pretty freaking good at cooking Korean cuisine: give the man some gochujang and dangmyeon and he’ll give you a good time. You know, in your mouth. Ugh, you know what I mean.)

Chooch and Judy came too. Chooch was relatively reluctant because he hates most food no matter the ethnicity, but Judy was all in. She even called Henry last night to make sure we were still taking her. Ever since she ate kimbap at Robbie and Nikki’s baby shower here at our house, she has been wanting to try more.

On the way to Shadyside, Judy casually mused that she had never been there. 

“Um, didn’t you grow up there?” Henry asked. 

Judy considered this and then said, “Oh yeah” and suddenly all these memories came rushing back to her, of dragging her dog to a dog show at the Hunt Armory  and falling off a garage roof and going to the hospital. 

We got to the church shortly after the food festival started (and after Chooch and I beat Henry and Judy in a race to the ground level of the parking garage – they took the elevator while we stampeded down the steps, and the people in the elevator with Henry & Judy were all, “Aw man” when they saw that they LOST and then accused us of cheating?! Uh sorry guys, get on our level.

It was a whole thing you had to be there.

Anyway! There was already a decent crowd congregating at the church by the time we rolled up so we just started blindly throwing money at the vendors while we had the chance. First we snagged some fish-shaped buns, mung bean jeon, and hotteok which was my favorite thing I ate all day.

Hot Korean pancakes oozing with sugar and honey? YES AND PLEASE MOTHER MAY I HAVE ANOTHER.

I didn’t even get a picture.

Chooch ate his fish bun like it was the created thing he’s ever extracted from a pillowcase after trick or treating.

“See?! I told you red bean is an amazing flavor!” I said.

“This isn’t red bean,” he snarfled around a mouthful of fried dough. “See?” He held it up to show me the beautiful, thick red bean paste all up inside that fish-shaped bun. I insisted that it was indeed red bean paste, to which he cried, “Oh my god, red bean is so good!”

NO SHIT, IDIOT WHITE BOY.

Ugh.

Inside the church was a hot cluster. I just felt like I was in everyone’s way (because I was) and Old Erin probably would have left and sat in the car, but New Erin was all, “I GOT THIS (Henry, hold my hand)!” We got some mul naengmyeon for Judy and cleaned up on various banchan to take home, including lotus root, bellflower, the greatest kimchi I’ve ever tasted this side of Korea, persimmon punch, chappsaltteok, and sikhye (a fucking delicious rice drink).

#heaven

I was worried that Judy wouldn’t like her mul narngmyeon because it’s a cold dish and the first time I had it (meatless version), I was like “BITCH HEAT THIS UP” but then I loved it.

And Judy did too!

“I like this. I could make it over there in Korea, I think,” she said around a mouthful of perfectly cold noodles.  I mean, she likes BIGBANG too so she’s already halfway there.

Henry copied off me and got bibimbap. Also, he bought a package of soondae at the gentle persistence of a woman behind the table and I was like, “Oh god, ok, good luck with that, Hank.” Later, he asked, “So can you eat this? Is there meat in it?”

I was like, “Dude, it’s BLOOD SAUSAGE. It’s so much meat that my stomach hurts even talking about it so please stop. TOFU. SEITAN. TEMPEH. LETTUCE. SOY MILK. LALALALALA.”

When there’s no cereal or grilled cheese option at the Korean food festival.

Basically, Chooch will be living off fish-shaped buns and hotteok if we go to South Korea. There are worse diets out there.

I was practicing how to say things like, “What is that?” this morning but then I realized that if I ask a question in Korean, I’m going to get an answer in Korean and I probably/definitely won’t know what it means. I’m trying, guys. I might need a legit tutor though.  I get frustrated very easily which might come as a shock to some.

We stayed for about 2 and a half hours, but if the weather hadn’t been so cold and drizzly, I think we would have camped out a lot longer.  I didn’t even get any tteokbokki! (Henry makes it a lot at home though so at least I have that as an option. BUT STILL.)

I refused to leave without at least getting some patbingsu, and I liked it better than the one I had at Sumi’s Cakery, so that was a nice finish to a day of gorging on the food of (wish they were) my people.

We had a great time today, and Judy didn’t even offend anyone! (At least not while I was around. We did leave her unattended for about 30 minutes. Shit…)

Mock my k-diet if you want, but I feel better than I ever have my whole life. Kimchi 4lyfe!