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!

I’m going to see G-Dragon! ON MY BIRTHDAY! Everyone at work was on PINS & NEEDLES (lol) when tickets went on sale today, and now they’re split between being excited for me and thinking I’ve lost my mind for splurging on one of the VIP packages but YOLO and TAX REFUND, etc. 

Henry is going to look so adorable in the special VIP box with me and all the screaming girls! 

AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!11111111

Lauren said she wished she had a picture of my face because it looked so adorable and I’m pretty sure Glenn quietly dry-heaved behind my back. 

Today rules!

PVRIS is back!

Ahhhhhh I have so many thoughts right now but none of them are very intelligible. In fact, while I was watching it, I couldn’t stop saying “oh my god” in a creepy deep-throat. 

Then I woke up Henry by (LIGHTLY) slapping his face & hoarsely breathing, “PVRIS has a new song.  HENRY – PVRIS HAS A NEW SONG…..and it’s magnificent.”

And the video is pure Hitchcockian art. I hope it’s part of a bigger narrative, and knowing PVRIS – it probably is 

I’m so excited right now HOW WILL I EVER SLEEP. 

Completely unrelated: Here are two pictures of Drew. 

My birthdays were always 100% solid when I was a kid. My Pappap made sure of that! My expectations are always stupid high now though and guess what THERE IS NO PAPPAP MAKING SHIT HAPPEN FOR ME ANYMORE.

LOL.

Just kidding, I’m crying.

Because they were always so special to me, I always try hard to make Chooch’s special and memorable too. Maybe he doesn’t give a shit about it right now, but hopefully one day when he’s older and no one babies him anymore on his dumb birthday, he’ll go home and call up on my blog by pointing at the air in front of him and the words will twist themselves into a holographic recreation of whatever birthday he’s reading about so he’ll get to experience it all over again, even the stench of his shitty diaper at his first birthday party and the sound of my friend Lauren’s son breaking his arm at Chooch’s 7th birthday party at the roller rink.

That’s what I imagine the future will be like, OK?

Just in case it’s like that, here is what we did on his actual birthday, which fell on a Tuesday:

First, we had dinner at Bado’s. Our waiter was a young ditzy boy who might have been still in high school, who can tell these days. He didn’t spill anything on us, at least.

It was also BALLOON NIGHT at Bado’s and at first I thought it was going to be annoying as fuck, but when the balloon lady wheeled her cart of latex (that could have been so much cooler) to our table, she was actually pretty awesome and we had a splendid conversation with her, which culminated with she and Chooch sharing pictures of their cats with each other.

Henry couldn’t have been more uncomfortable, like she was going to ask him if he wanted a balloon thong or VHS porno.

(It’s been a long day.)

Behind Henry was a booth with two guys and their super young kids. It was less My Two Dads and more The Wives Made Us Take the Kids Out with Us, What Do We Do? How About Just Ignore Them.

I thought Henry was actually going to turn around and say something at one point but nope. True to form, he just sighed and mindlessly scrolled through his phone.

The food was OK, though!

Afterward, Chooch insisted on going to Chuck E. Cheese.

“At first I was just joking….but now I kind of want to go,” he sheepishly told me that morning. Ugh, FML. He was all impressed that I was playing games, but it was just because I was trying to burn through the tokens faster so we could leave.

ANYTHING TO MAKE THE KID SMILE, I GUESS, UGH.

That balloon lady was so legit, though.

***

Meanwhile, we had been planning a surprise party for him on Saturday. If we’re being honest, I almost let this birthday pass us by without a party but then I decided to go the surprise route because we’ve never done that to him yet and I love fucking with the kid.

We kept it small and chill.

Because one day he might want to look up the guest list of some arbitrary childhood birthday party as the determining factor of whether he should a grudge against someone (totally not at all something I would ever be petty enough to do), here is the guest list. If you’re on it, odds are you’re safe. (For now.)

• Blake & Haley (our helpers in keeping Chooch away from the house, god bless them)
• Chris & Monica
• Janna
• Kara, Harland, Theo
• My mom
• Judy
• Chris, Kari, Katelyn
• Wonka, Jess, Cosi, Anais
• Ricky & Dawn (they had the fun task of hiding their hearse somewhere Chooch wouldn’t see it lol)
• Henry’s sister, Zac & Brian

My house is super small so that was a lot of people to cram up in there, quietly to boot! I was so nervous because Chooch is a wildcard. You never know how he will react. I was worried he might get upset or punch me so I threw out the script where I cried “Surprise! We’re putting you up for adoption!” and went with the more traditional “Surprise!” /end

I bought a confetti cannon too, and decided that henry was the only one qualified to use it, you know, since he was in the Service and I was just a measly GIRL SCOUT.

Finally, it was 7:30 and Chooch returned home with Blake & Haley…

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His froyo, tho!

He was genuinely surprised! We had a few close calls, like when he was watching videos on Henry’s phone and got a notification that I updated his surprise party even page on Facebook…..

I pretended like his dinner at Tillies last week was supposed to be the surprise but then no one aside my brother and mom and Judy could make it. He never mentioned it again.

The theme was “butterflies” since he abhors  them. My favorite thing about this cake was not the taste (it was just so-so), but the fact that DeLuca’s Bakery kept the Shutterstock watermark on it.

I even got him a purple tiara with a butterfly on it and of course snapped nary a picture of him wearing it. I was off my game that night.

I promised that there wouldn’t be any Korean stuff and even put on the Penguins game for everyone. We beat the Capitals 6-2!

The back porch really came in handy because there were so many people crammed into my clown car of a house, so Kara & her kids, Chronica, Haley, Blake, & Chooch migrated out there and watched Chooch put together his Nano Block sets.

I mean, they probably talked, too, I would imagine.

Chooch was really obnoxious and borderline rude when he was opening his presents, which was very early on in the night. I’m hoping it was just because he was still overwhelmed and not because THIS IS ELEVEN. Several times I flat out told him to stop being rude. But then once attention was off him, he seemed like regular Chooch again.

Good, because I wasn’t impressed with his newfound cockiness.

I was going to wrap a box of toothpicks as a gift, but I thought that might push him over the edge. It didn’t stop some of my friends from making perfectly-callous references to it, though. I love my friends.

My hope is that Chooch will look back on these parties and know that he’s loved.

I just told him this was his last birthday party ever and he got really sad, lol.

…sad that this beautiful weekend is nearly over. We had a successful surprise party for Chooch, got to hang out with some of our favorite people, and today Henry HELD MY HAND during our walk through Brookline (because I latched on and wouldn’t let go but still).

Now I’m relaxing with MVs because I’m 16 and I’m trying to take my mind off of the stress of buying G-Dragon tickets. 

“You have teenage priorities,” Henry said.

IT’S CALLED HAVING PASSIONS, BUT OK. 

More later. I’m tired. 

Indulge me for a minute or eleven, won’t you. It’s a mother’s right to feel brooding, nostalgic, and downright panicked over the passage of time on their child’s birthday. AFTER ALL, it is all about us. 

So please don’t mind the forthcoming deluge of photos, also known as CHOOCH THRU THE YEARS. 

Happy 11th birthday to my favorite person in the whole world (fine–tied with G-Dragon)! Chooch makes life so exciting and gives me frequent stomach aches from all the laughing fits he causes. He’s scary-smart yet has just enough blond moments to keep him grounded. 

He is my best model and goes along with (most) of my dumb photo shoot ideas. He’s my favorite amusement park partner, my sometimes-concert buddy, and also my biggest frenemy. (We are way too much alike.) 

He can hold his own with a roomful of adults, and his wit is enviable. Get this kid a band to front or a show to host. 

I never thought I could ever be a mom, but I am so glad I met Henry and changed my mind. Chooch is my best creation ever and I love him so much! ❤💖🐱

I had my eye on a beautiful G-Dragon enamel pin on Etsy for the last several months. If there is one thing about me that usually surprises people, it’s that I am a SUPER GUILTY shopper. I can’t tell you how many times I add things to the cart then X out of the page because I’ve either determined I don’t really need it, or I don’t feel like reaching for my credit card, or I’ve just flat out already lost interest, or I found something for Chooch instead. #SELFLESS (lol not really.)

I know – this doesn’t fit into my spoiled brat personality profile, right?! 

But something made me check on that pin the other day and I said “YOU KNOW WHAT? 에라 모르겠다 I’m treating myself.” And guess what?! I BOUGHT THE VERY LAST ONE because the Etsy shop is retiring their Kpop line, so I went back and snatched up TOP for Chooch as well. 

I just love it so much!! And then I realized I was wearing my GD pin with my DGD (Dance Gavin Dance) pin and my head exploded. 

I wore GD to work yesterday and while Lauren thought it was adorable, Glenn and Todd were like, “Good lord.” And then Nate saw it in passing and said the way the light was hitting it, it looked like George  Washington and he just figured that “G-Dragon” was what I was calling George Washington these days. 

I mean, he had a valid assumption. You never know with me. 

“I scored the last one!” I cried, breathless with joy. 

“Are you sure it’s not the ONLY one?” Glenn deadpanned. Such a hater. 

Anyway, I’m telling you all of this because my pin arrived just in time for this new IU jam featuring G-Dragon! I LOVE IT. I would love it more if his beautiful perfect angel face was in the video too BUT I’LL LIVE, I GUESS. (That’s what Henry told me anyway.)

Broken record here but Easter is my second favorite holiday after Halloween. It didn’t used to be, and it’s not like I have especially fond childhood memories of Easters past. They weren’t bad, don’t get me wrong! But there were two Easters where I can remember being very ill. Once was in 11th grade – I vomited up a Caesar salad and chocolate milkshake from Denny’s and then proceeded to be down for the count for most of spring break.

I EVEN REMEMBER WHAT I WAS WEARING THAT NIGHT AT DENNYS. Probably because my whole life back then was on video thanks to my camcorder being my trusty sidekick.

(You guys think I oversaturate social media now? Imagine if it was around back then!)

I guess it’s been ever since I became a mom that Easter has been something I look forward to, and of course I’m talking about the Easter bunny and Easter baskets and chocolate and basket grass and absolutely nothing religious at all. (Although it was fun a few years back when we had that pizza party for Jesus Christ on Easter!) Also, Easter is like the true gateway to spring in my opinion.

Easter almost started off terribly because THE EASTER BUNNY DIDN’T COME TO OUR HOUSE and by the Easter bunny I of course mean the Easter dummy – Henry. Chooch and I threw low-grade fits until Henry was like, “OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” and took Chooch to Wal-Mart to pick out some small Easter presents and they got me some plants too so CRISIS AVERTED.

Our prizes didn’t come in a basket with candy but we didn’t care because THINGS AND STUFF AND PRESENTS AND GIMME. 

We’re not spoiled or anything. 

Then we put together a small basket for Patty and visited her at the nursing home, where she was sitting outside on the patio with her dad and two other residents, one of whom (Barb) had a fork in her shoe which was the most hilarious thing I saw all day. Apparently, she didn’t even know it was there until Patty pointed to it and asked her is she was planning on shanking someone. It just fell and landed right in the side of her shoe. HOW IS THIS SO FUNNY!?

Anyway, we enjoyed the beautiful sunshine while bullshitting, and Chooch played with the saran wrap that I had half-assedly laid atop his failed galaxy cupcakes that he brought for Patty.

“Look, I’m Dexter,” he murmured, slapping it over his face. This made Barb scream, “OH HONEY NO! OMG NO!” which was wildly funny to me.

Chooch, giving me and old ladies heart attacks since 2006.

Then Chooch got to swipe a post-Mass donut while the pastor’s wife said he was handsome which totally inflated his big head further, and then Patty made good on her promise to play Battleship with him, during which Henry nodded off because when doesn’t Henry nod off.

That’s Barb in the background, having a biblical debate with that dude. They were watching The Greatest Story Ever Told, or The Ten Commandments….or who knows — I couldn’t see that far.

It was nice seeing Patty for a bit that afternoon and while it was tempting to leave Henry there to be treated for narcolepsy, I woke him up when it was time to go.

In the end, it was the right choice, or else I wouldn’t have this divine bowl of japchae for dinner, complete with an Easter egg.

Turns out that Scoops was open, so we ended the night with a walk to the boulevard for some ice cream. Just kidding, we actually ended the night with one of my bi-annual, volatile rants about cops. But then I did some KpopX and we all had a good laugh about my scary temper.

WOO, EASTER!

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I almost let Easter slide by without any fanfare, but then a week prior we were at Target and Chooch was like, “We’re dyeing eggs next week, FYI. Tell Blake.”

Yessir.

I also told Kara, whom I haven’t seen since THE PIE PARTY.

IN OCTOBER.

I think this may have been the longest we ever went without hanging out. I blame political and seasonal depression.

Blake and Haley got to our house just in time for Chooch and me to start haranguing Blake to do things with us: Chooch wanted to bake galaxy cupcakes that he found in a cookbook we got him for Xmas and then promptly refused to help him with, and I wanted Blake to be the Easter bunny stand-in for our annual pictures because Henry was being a dumb dick and wouldn’t do it.

And then we did a quick Easter bunny sidewalk wave-and-dance side bar. I think Blake wasn’t going to do it at first but then he saw that cars were beeping and slowing down so the people inside could wave and cheer Chooch on, and he wanted in on that action.

Look for them at the next Anthrocon.

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I invited the neighbor kid Markie over too because he was sitting on his front porch, watching our antics and looking forlorn. I regretted the decision almost immediately because woo-boy does that kid love to get into all my stuff!

“Who invited Markie?” Henry sighed.

“I know right?” I said.

J/K. That kid is pretty harmless. And he’s super fun to tease. Takes it like a pro!

Kara and I dyed nary an egg, but we did partake in some soju action.

And then promptly blew freakshow-quality fire from our mouths.

In my mind, dyeing eggs always seems like such a grand idea, but then it’s over faster than it took Henry to set up all the dye. And then I remember how frustrating it is when the eggs don’t come out sparkly and gilded like they appear on the front of the Paas box.

Does anyone remember the Peter Paas Easter cartoon from the 80s? We had it on VHS, the kind that came in the giant, padded vinyl case.

Just seeing that cover has me crucified with nostalgia! I can totally hear that sheep’s voice in my head!

Anyway, it was fun just hanging on the backporch which obviously I’m obsessed with if you can’t tell, watching the kids complain because the wax crayon didn’t work (WHEN DOES IT?! I can’t tell you how many failed weeners eggs I’ve dyed).  And then there was an impromptu Easter egg hunt because we bought a big bag of those plastic fucks at Goodwill for photoshoot purposes only, so Blake took a basketful and hid them all around the yard and it was way more entertaining than I anticipated. Harland got the golden egg and I could tell Chooch was trying to quickly construct a dam for his tears because god forbid he doesn’t win something.

WHERE DOES HE GET THIS LITERALLY NO ONE IN THIS HOUSE IS COMPETITIVE.)

Egg dyeing interlude.

All of the kids were running amok with animal masks at one point and I wanted to do a group photo but getting kids to agree to photos is hard and I didn’t have any cash on me to pay them like I have to do with my own kid.

His rates keep going up.

Somehow the night bled into a surprise story time…

Hey, speaking of bled…you know what else bled that night?

Oh, just Chooch.

He somehow managed to step on one of those thick wooden toothpicks later that night when he was going to get a bottle of water in the kitchen. Kara and I thought he bumped his leg off the kitchen table and was embellishing because if there is one thing that Chooch inherited from me that I’m very proud to admit, it’s my natural embellishment skills.

But no, as it turned out, he had half of this toothpick speared into his foot and it was NOT PRETTY. As soon as I saw what was going on, that he had essentially been staked, I lost my shit. My legs did that jelly thing and I was all dry-heaving while moaning, “Oh my GOD. OH my god. Oh MY god. OHMYGOD.” Finally Henry pushed me out of the way and calmly sat Chooch down on the couch, who at this point was screaming like he lost his whole entire foot in an episode of the Walking Dead. Henry just kept saying, “I’M TRYING TO GET IT OUT. STOP MOVING! NO, DON’T LOOK AT—–”

Too late.

Chooch looked.

And then the screaming got even more theatrical and I was acutely aware that we have neighbors but luckily they weren’t home so thank god.

I kept going back and forth between trying to comfort Chooch, making things worse, and then going back on the porch where Kara’s kids were like THE FUCK.

“I was just telling them about the time at the spray park,” Kara said, another time that Chooch had what you would think was a near-fatal injury and I almost puked in public but my temporary paralysis wouldn’t allow it.

I’m the worst in any types of traumatic situations. Thank god Henry and Kara were there or else Chooch and I would have both probably passed out, Chooch bleeding out and me choking on my vomit.

Henry managed to pull out the toothpick cleanly and the puncture wound only bubbled a bit with blood and then was fine – I was waiting for some gross blood volcano to erupt.

“This was probably 75% drama,” Henry mumbled.

Anyway, it was so scary at the time, but we were making jokes pretty soon after.

“Well, if KARA didn’t ask me to get her a water….” Chooch said defensively. Yep, that’s what I was waiting for. Kara’s going to be hearing about this one for years!

But really, if he wants to play that game, he can only blame himself because he’s the one who HAD TO BAKE CUPCAKES that day, which is why the toothpicks were out in the first place. I asked Chooch if he wants to guest blog about the horrible event, but he said he doesn’t want to relive it.

My Left Foot sequels aside, it was a really fun night. Nothing is better than a houseful of cool people and holiday pandemonium.

And now I will leave you with an oldie but goodie Kpop jam: