This has been plastered all over every social media platform I (over)use, but I’m just really excited, OK?! Henry’s oldest son Robbie and his fiancee Nikki welcomed their twins into the world on Friday and they are totally adorbs. And chunkers too, considering they’re twins! Levi weighed 6 lbs and Eli was 7 lbs 4 oz, yo.

Nikki had a whole lotta baby in her!

We got to see them in person yesterday and I can attest that it was the happiest I’ve seen Henry in a good long while. I think he’s going to be a good grandfather. Probably not as good as my Pappap was, but maybe close. We’ll see.

“He’s probably going to teach them about planes,” Chooch said with an eyeroll, and I heartily agreed. Henry was too busy making googly-eyes at Eli to frown at Chooch’s remark though.

Chooch immediately tried to teach Levi to say “cat” and then tried to smuggle one of their stuffed elephants up his shirt because he desperately wanted it.

“Well, they have two,” he reasoned. Always thinking of himself.

He must get that from his dad.

I held Eli for a little bit but then started freaking out because he was moving and OMG BABIES so Robbie had to relieve me. Chooch definitely got his baby-holding skills from. (Or lack-of. However you want to look at it.)

“How are you so good at that??” I asked Henry.

“I have three kids! You don’t just forget how to hold a baby—-” and then he remembered who he was talking to. I swear I was great at holding Chooch! But I am so terrified of dropping other people’s babies.

Also, can I just say that Nikki looked amazingly pretty and glow-y for someone who had just birthed 13 pounds of living beings? And Robbie already looks like a dad. I don’t mean that in a bad way – I mean that he looked completely confident and natural holding his new baby sons and it was just so cool to see that.

These two are going to be incredible parents and I can’t wait to watch these twins grow!

Something amazing happened last Friday. It was so great that I suddenly wasn’t so sad to be riding the trolley to work.

Henry texted me and said that his new co-worker asked us to hang out that Sunday.

Not just Henry.

But me, too!

The reason this is a big deal isn’t because we’re like, mountain moles who never get invited to do things, but in the 11 years Henry has been at his job, I have never actually met anyone he works with!

(Because this is how Henry prefers it, I suppose. Me and my mouth, god knows what will happen!)

“This is—-”

“—scary,” Henry cut in as I was about to say, “monumental.”

It’s also a big deal because his new co-worker — Andrew– is from ENGLAND and has only lived here for the last three years. Yes, I want to hang out with a British dude!

When I got to work, I cried to Glenn and Todd in my standard brand of hyperventilation, “Guess who I get to hang out with on Sunday?!”

“G-Dragon!” Glenn guessed in faux-excitement. 

And then I wasn’t as excited because now I was just thinking about how I could have been hanging out with G-Dragon instead. 

In some alternate reality. 

So how it all went down is that a few weeks ago, Andrew asked Henry if he had ever heard of St. Anthony’s church, the home of the largest collection of relics outside of the Vatican. Henry told him that yes, he had heard of it, and that I had actually been there. Andrew and his wife were interested in checking it out and asked if we wanted to join them. UM, YESSIR WE DO!

Also, I love St. Anthony’s. It’s one of Pittsburgh’s many hidden gems. I had never heard of it until my religion professor at Pitt mentioned it once in class and I was all, “OH HELLO I’M WOKE MY NAP. TELL ME MORE.” I have these types of things! It took a few years, but I finally visited the venerable Troy Hill church in 2011 and I won’t lie even a little – actual tears were shed.

I even bought this St. Rita medallion in the gift shop, which is a third-class relic. That means it touched either a first-class (actual bone/body part) or second-class (article of clothing, etc) relic, for all you relic dunces out there.

I keep it in a poison tin on my desk at work:

Needless to say, I was so fucking stoked for last Sunday!

We found Andrew and his wife Karen across the street from the church, in the gift shop. Henry continuously blocked me from actually entering the gift shop though, because he’s tired of all the religious memorabilia I’m always trying to smuggle in the house. (My bathroom is church-themed.)

Right off the bat, some old man came up to Henry and placed a stack of burned DVDs in his hand and told him if he watched them, he’d have a halo over his head.

Henry was like, “OK cool story, bud” and then we all went upstairs to check out the museum (literally just two small rooms – you can read all about that in my original blog post about St. Anthony’s if you feel so compelled), and Andrew told us all about the old as shit churches in his hometown in England, and Chooch looked like he was going to cry because England is to him what Korea is to me, and anytime it comes up in conversation that I’ve been to England, like, 8 times, he gets furious.

Last night, he found out that I’ve been to Paris numerous times too and steam began unfurling from his nostrils.

This is the shit I live for as a parent.

Anyway, I immediately got good vibes from both Andrew and his wife and felt comfortable talking to them. I can definitely come off stiff and standoffish at times when really I’m just BEING SHY.

Finally, we went to the church! There was some large church group there getting a tour, so we were told to just join them and then come back again for a full tour, which was kind of bullshit but OK fine. I’ll come back. I can’t resist the seductive charm of those goddamn relics.

There was literally only 10 minutes left of the tour, and the docent was speaking so softly that it wasn’t even worth it. Henry and Andrew drifted off and started looking at things on their own, but I was determined to try and infiltrate the group by sticking around for the Q&A session. Some old ass broad asked if there were any relics of Pope John Paul II and the docent was all, “No I wish…” and then the priest that was with the group pulled something out of his pocket and said it was a PIECE OF FABRIC FROM THE POPE MOBILE, but I couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, and then he laughed and said, ‘I’ll sell it to ya!”

WAS HE LYING OR WAS HE FULL OF THE GOOD LORD’S WORD, WE MAY NEVER KNOW.

Meanwhile, the old man from the gift shop tried to give Henry more DVDs and Henry said, “You already gave me some in the gift shop” and then they had a good laugh because the old man said, “You look different without your hat!” Of course, I had no idea what was actually being said because I was too far away and didn’t want to talk over the docent, so you know it was killing me until I finally had an opportunity to ask what they were talking about.

I always need to know what people are talking about.

It drives Henry mad.

My Pappap used to always say, “Are you writing a book? Well, leave that chapter out.” Because I’d always sidle up and cry, “What? What?” when adults were hush-hushing.

After the tour, we hung out in the church and just took it all in. In addition to the whole relic thing, St. Anthony’s has one of the only two near-life-sized Stations of the Cross in the U.S. Because they’re such masterpieces, there’s a brass rail guarding them with signs posted that say an alarm will go off if you touch the rail or try to cross it, so of course Chooch kept playing chicken with the alarm and I was SO NERVOUS. Why does my kid have to be a church hooligan?!

“What is this even supposed to be, anyway?” Chooch asked.

“It’s where they gave Jesus the cross to carry and then he fell a lot,” I said with a shrug, and Henry was so disappointed. What? I mean, that’s basically how it went!

Then Chooch demonstrated the only thing he remembers from his brief and tragic stint at Catholic school, which was doing the sign of the cross with holy water.

Except that I don’t remember the finale of touching two fingers to your lips and pulling them away with a kiss. I guess things have changed a lot since the last time I went to church.

Outside of the church, we discussed lunch options while Chooch literally played in the street.

I mentioned that Chooch and I are vegetarians but we could pretty much always count on grilled cheese no matter where go, so we were fine with anywhere.

“My favorite food is Korean,” Karen said, and Henry and I exchanged “OMG” faces.

“OMG ARE YOU SERIOUS? IT’S MINE TOO!” I cried, taking a giant step closer to her.

And that’s when she told us that her ex-husband was Korean AND THEY OWNED A KOREAN RESTAURANT TOGETHER.

I never in a million years saw this coming. It was kismet. I felt so giddy!!

Chooch, on the other hand, started grumbling about how this was the worst thing ever. Which made it even more fantastic for me! Karen started giving Henry cooking tips and it was music to my ears. TALK TO ME ABOUT GOCHUGARU.

And then, in true Erin fashion, I showed her a picture of what the inside of our refrigerator looks like, because it’s about 75% staples of Korean cuisine. I’m so proud of my lifestyle that I actually took a picture of my refrigerator. As if I even know what to do with any of those ingredients!

And that’s how we ended up having lunch at Korea Garden in Oakland.

Chooch is so thrilled! Also, Heil Hitler much, Henry? Yikes.

Kimchi jeon all day long.

While we were there, BIGBANG’s “Fxxk It” came on and I interrupted everyone to squeal, “THIS IS MY FAVORITE KPOP GROUP!” Henry did the “please don’t embarrass me” sharp intake of breath, but Karen just laughed and said, “You’re funny.”

Give it time and that’ll change to “You’re annoying.”

It was just a really satisfying afternoon and I hope that we hang out with them again! Henry needs his own friends. I dropped subtle hints about the Bayernhof, because I’m dying to go back there again even though it’s not Korean.

One of the hardest things I have been doing recently is cutting back on concerts in order to save travel money. It sucks but the one good thing is that there haven’t been very many must-see bands coming to town recently. 

I did sacrifice a road trip to see Dance Gavin Dance last weekend though. THAT is how devastatingly bad I want to go to South Korea.

But then I saw Foxing was playing at Cattivo and I had to go, just for sure would not be able to live with myself if I slept on that one. After listening to them for several years and finally seeing them in Cleveland last fall, I have been dying for a replay. 

Henry is not a fan. He’s not even impressed by the trumpet. But he sighed and agreed to go with me because he is Oppa Supreme. 

We went straight after work on Tuesday and he bitched the whole time because Cattivo is located in one of his least favorite parts of town (he hates hipsters even though he has a beard and wears flannels and slouchy beanies—oh wait that’s lumbersexual. I’m confusing my stereotypes again). 

We stood in line surrounded by high school girls talking/screaming about bonding in the bathroom while pooping, vaping and Vining. I saw Henry leave his body and go back to THE SERVICE at one point. 

And then Conor, the singer from Foxing, came out and the ringleader of the high schoolers stopped him and gave him a drawing and then made him recreate a picture he took with her  last year. 

“I look like an egg,” she said, examining herself in her phone’s screen. 

 “Me too,” Conor said. 

“He said ‘me too’!” the high school girl screamed in this cocky tone and have I ever told you that I hate when people repeat shit someone said while that person is standing right there. I think it must remind me of someone I hated in high school I DONT KNOW I’m drawing a blank. But I hate that, regardless.

We stood in line for a good 45 minutes after doors were supposed to open. I’m not a fan of Cattivo. 

When the doors finally opened, we went inside just to show our IDs, get a wristband, and then GO BACK OUTSIDE to stand in line again? You can believe that Henry muttered out loud about this for the next half hour and then another guy who may have been almost my age was also complaining about it so then they had a moment where they complained about it to each other and I was just like “kill me.”

(She said kill me!)

I commented that it smelled like standing in line for a haunted house. 

Henry considered this briefly and started to half-heartedly agree. 

“—-in 1997,” I finished. 

And then he shot me that fierce “you’re an idiot” glare that will probably be frozen on his face when he does. I guess he didn’t agree with me anymore after that?

Some kid behind me started to vape and I was ensconced in fruity fumes that I couldn’t quite place and then Sandy texted me because I sent her a picture of a guy in line that I thought looked like how Ethan would look if he went to the same shows as me and she showed it to Ethan who disagreed and said I’m racist, so then I couldnt stop cracking up and now I wonder if someone else from that line also blogged about their night and mentioned the mom-aged broad in line who was trying to take clandestine pictures of people while laughing alone and her burly mountain man companion who complained about everything and was flicking his AARP card in and out of his wallet like it was a switchblade. 

Sorry. I’m running on 4 hours of sleep and lots of Kpop-dance adrenaline. 

Finally we got to back inside and downstairs where the shows was being held. 

Because I was so grateful that henry didn’t make me go alone, I let him sit down in the bar area even though it meant that I couldn’t see very well. It was just as well, because I ended up getting drunk off  two beers and then crying about Bigbang. Because this is me. 

I spent a lot of time sitting back and people-watching  which is when I noticed that I’ve been seeing a shift from 90s grunge to 80s alternative/new-wave as far as clothes and hairstyles go at these shows, and I don’t hate it one point. There was a dark Corey Haim aesthetic happening and I felt so hopeful, like perhaps there was where I belonged. I always rue the fact that I wasn’t old enough in the 80s to experience the club scene. 

Um, and then Joy Division started playing overhead and I had an out of body experience. I didn’t go to the Service though like Henry does when he leaves his body. 

I went to Robert Smith’s house. We had tea. Except that I was drinking mine while watching him from behind a bush. 

The opening band couldn’t be there because they couldn’t get into the county (thanks, TRUMP) so one of the guys from the second band, Yohuna, played an endless set which essentially sounded like just one long, exhausting song with minimal vocals and lots of gratuitous reverb and look, it was fine – even beautiful at times – but it was boring as fuck. I was tired and emotionally numb from work and needed something to make me woke, you know?

Henry hated him but I wouldn’t go that far. It would be good to have on in the background while you’re working on a coloring book of stained glass windows or writing your Will.

Luckily, there was some middle-aged (OMG THATS ALMOST ME) Yinzer (NEVER WILL BE ME) couple in front of us who drank so much that henry became obsessed with keeping track (I’d ask him what the final tally was but he’s — can you guess? —sleeping.)

Yohuna was fine. 

BUT THEN FOXING!!!! 

I know what you’re thinking: “But Erin, don’t you hate trumpets?” Fuck no. That’s banjos. I hate banjos. 

They opened with a new song that’s never been performed live! (This was the first night of their tour!) I haven’t been able to stop thinking of that song ever since. It’s haunting me. The goosebumps I had on my arms were no joke and henry can attest that the tears falling from my eyes were not Crocs. 

According to some dude on YouTube, the song is called Nah Man. I can’t wait to hear it again, fuck. 

My favorite song by them will forever be Rory, and that’s what they closed with, which felt religious. Church on a Tuesday. Why not. 

But I’ve already posted that video on here before so here is some other person’s video from that night, of The Magdalene. Also a stunner. 

On the way to the car, I said, “I have tears all the way down my neck!” And Henry mumbled an exasperated “Oh my god.” Boyfriend will never get it. 

Tear-jerking music and Henry bitching: everything was as it should be. 

On our walk home from CVS this evening, Chooch suddenly said, “Oh! Guess what happened today? So I was at the library with Dang* and he was showing me a text that he sent Daddy** and we were laughing when suddenly someo lady screamed HELP SOMEONE HELP MY KID’S HAND IS STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR—-that’s not funny, why are you laughing?!”

*(Pronounced “Den.” He’s Vietnamese and Chooch said Dang’s sister is in college and loves Kpop but according to Dang, she doesn’t listen to BIGBANG or any of the groups I like, because she’s into “soft Kpop”…..so like, LiteFM Kpop? Michael Bolton-style Kpop?)

**(All of Chooch’s friends has Henry’s number and he’s so annoyed by this. Chooch knows better than to give out my number to anyone. Including his school.)

Sorry but it was funny! Kids are so dumb! Why are they putting their hands in places they shouldn’t?!

“So Dang and I went over. Dang was shocked and I was holding my hand over my mouth. I don’t know how to help* so I just waited for a librarian. MOMMY seriously it’s not funny**! That kid was like five!”

*(Aw! He’s totes my kid.)

**(Or…is he?)

“So what happened?”

“Well they got his hand out and he was fine,” Chooch said using a “duh” tone. “Oh and the librarian said this happens often?!”

Why do I have a feeling Chooch’s hand is next. 

Russian post-hardcore with a saxophone? I’M SOLD. It’s like a yacht rock / swancore mash-up and I never could have imagined it would sound this marvelous. 

And for good measure, my personal  gods of post-hardcore released a new video on Friday and it was the first time I got excited about anything American in months. 

This is my faaaaaavorite track from Mothership and this video pleased me greatly. Jon Mess is psychotic perfection. LOOK AT HIS DREAMY/CREEPY EYES. Pure brilliance. Bravo. 

I ran out of people to send postcards of all of my fascinating lunch break observations, so I guess now everyone* will have to endure it on here.

*(See also: my five readers. I love you guys very very much.)

I can’t keep of track of days anymore, so we’ll pretend like this all happened in one, action-packed stroll through the ‘Burgh. Except the first bulletpoint actually just happened about 10 minutes ago. HOT OFF THE PRESS.

• Some broad next to me completely missed her step while we were crossing the street and tripped so hard on the curb that her shoe flung off and she fell flat down on her hands and knees. I was on the phone with Henry at the time, but felt like I had no choice but to slightly slow my roll and at least ask her if she was OK. I mean, I’m a card-carrying member of the ACLU now so I felt that it was the human thing to do. At first, she didn’t answer me and I was like, “Wow, what a bitch” followed quickly with, “Oh shit, is she unconscious?” Turns out she was none of those things, just a little embarrassed. Once she got back on her feet, she laughed it off and then thanked me for asking if she was OK. “Did you just ask someone if they were OK?” Henry asked in astonishment through the phone, so I told him what happened, and he said he was very impressed with me. For what it’s worth though, she also dropped a CVS bag which I could have picked up for her but instead just walked away after I tripped on it.
• There was a fire at the place where I buy my coffee! It didn’t burn down though, and was reopened by the next day.
• Speaking of coffee, I went to Crazy Mocha last week and felt compelled to get their seasonal leprechaun chai because sometimes you gotta change shit up a bit. The barista (not the punctuation-obsessed one — I actually haven’t seen her in awhile!) said, “You’ll have to let me know how this is; I haven’t tried it yet.” This was right as she started making it, so then I had a quiet panic attack, wondering if she meant, “Don’t leave this place until you drink some and let me know because I’m going to write your exact words on this chalkboard for all the customers to read” or was she telling me that she expected me to come back the next day with my review? WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO!? But then as she handed the cup to me, she told me to have an awesome day and  then turned her back on me so that was my cue to get the fuck out and never come back.
  • I went back today though but luckily some other girl was working and I had no outstanding demands to tell her what I thought of any of the drinks there, so that was a relief.
• Walked past some broad and if I were still my old, judgemental self (lol), I’d have probably written something like, “she looked like a washed-up stripper,” but I kind of gave up stereotyping people for Lent just to see what it’s like to give something up. Anyway, right as I passed her, she growled to her friend, “I had $13 hidden in my bra, but they didn’t find it.” She looked like someone who would hide $13 in her bra, too. Damn, did I just lose Lent? So many questions though, mainly, “WHO WAS SHE HIDING THE $13 FROM!?”
• Speaking of washed-up strippers, remember when I was obsessed with making a coffee table book full of pictures and essays of washed-up strippers, so I placed an ad on Craigslist and only one broad answered but then she said I couldn’t take any pictures, so I was like, “Well fuck you and your strippin’ history then.” I don’t know why more people didn’t respond. I clearly stated that I wasn’t a serial killer.
• OH SHIT I HAVEN’T TOLD YOU ABOUT THE PIGEON INCIDENT YET, BLOG. Well what happened, was….I was walking down the sidewalk and a man was walking toward me, but in the middle of us was a pigeon, and the pigeon was all, “Shit son, this man is walking toward me very quickly, I better turn around and flyYYYYYY—–OH SHIT ANOTHER PERSON IS BEHIND ME, WHICH WAY DO I GO” and then he (she? The voice I made for it that day in my head was a boy voice, so we’ll go with he) slammed right into my thigh, ricocheted to the left and flew into a woman who was walking past, at which point that lady started screaming before I had a chance to scream, and the pigeon was SO UPSET at this point and probably flew into a bus or something, but all the pedestrians on the block stopped what they were doing and started laughing at the lady who was so upset that a pigeon hit her and at first I was mad because hello, it hit me first, but then did I really want people laughing at me? No. That broad can have my thunder. Meanwhile, Amber* was outside around the same time as me and she got to see Olli Matta! (He’s a Penguin, no big deal.) Yeah well…I WAS TOUCHED BY A PIGEON!
  • *I’m going to call Amber “Amber-sunbae” from now on because she was promoted and is now my boss, and in a Korean work environment, that would make her my sunbaenim! See, you just learned a thing.
    • I have a feeling she is going to reject my title for her.
    • But I probably can’t ever call her Mean Amber again, haha!
• We have a cat cafe in Pittsburgh now! I walked over there on my lunch break, even though I knew that you have to make a reservation to get into the cat loft because they just opened and are in high demand because who doesn’t want to sit in a roomful of cat?!  Still, I wanted somewhere new to get an iced latte. It was pretty good but kind of overpriced; however, I like to believe that some of the money is going to the cats so I was alright with it. Plus, the people working there were super friendly; we had non-excruciating small talk and when I said, “Have a nice day, guys” I THINK I MEANT IT.

…and their weekend requires fewer words than mine, so rejoice!

Penelope perpetuated stereotypes.

And Drew got her Seuss on.

Ciao (and meow) for now.

This morning, I googled “why do I constantly skip words when I’m writing?” Because I don’t think I have a single godforsaken blog post that isn’t jacked in some way or written like english is my second language. Hard to believe my major was English writing.

I mean sure, I can blame my environment, or the fact that I frequently post from my phone (see: autocorrect shenanigans), but the truth is: I’m concerned. I used to be good! I happened to skim a blog post I wrote on Sunday and by the time I got to the last paragraph, it was obvious that I just wanted to be done writing it because it was a hot mess. I had to delete an entire “sentence” because there was so much wrong with it that I couldn’t tell what I originally intended to say. I’m just that good.

So I asked the Internet doctors.

GREAT NEWS: I probably don’t have a brain tumor. GOOD NEWS: Henry probably isn’t hitting my head with a candlestick in my sleep. BAD NEWS: I might suddenly be autistic? PLAIN NEWS: It’s likely attributed to racing thoughts (oh shit son I have those), lack of sleep (yes), and aging (ugh I’m old).

I want to make some promise that I will start proofreading again like I did back when I treated this dumping ground as my fake job; but the truth is, I probably won’t because I hate reading what I wrote and I’m usually just rushing to get ‘er done anyway. So consider it a mental exercise when you’re struggling to piece together my syntax – you’re welcome!

(I do proofread the shit out of my work emails though, which is how I dodged the fatal error of sending an email to Boobie instead of Bobbie.)

Here are some pictures from my phone. Hopefully I don’t fuck those up, too.

Hey, anyone want to buy some Sarris candy from Anonymous in support of Illuminati? Nothing shady about that, AT ALL.

Me. In a Brookline alley. During a wind storm.

This happened on Facebook and Henry’s response made me LOL. Also the fact that Blake & I were low key arguing over who taught Chooch the fine art of penis penciling. Later, Chooch admitted that his inspiration was the Henry Weener series that  I used to do, and that made me feel so proud!! (And also inspired to start creating those works of art again.)

Henry clearly thinks differently.

When we were checking out at the Asian market on Saturday, I noticed that they offer a glorious array of red light bulbs right by the register (and conveniently right above the Pocky)! This is good to know for when the audit light burns out.

I’ll be able to get kimchi and a new audit light in one trip!

Peen Lop is muy tolerant.

But then again, so is Chooch.

Before I sign off, I have an addendum to my brain (BRAIN, ERIN, NOT BRIAN. BRAIN BRAIN BRAIN) woes: I was walking into work this afternoon and slammed my nose into the glass of the revolving door because I was walking faster than I was pushing. I hate my new invalid self.

(FYI: Henry sat here and yapped his bearded word-hole at me for the last five minutes, because distraction is the key to solid writing.)

Well, ciao for now!

In “Next Door” news, there are legit contractors over there now, doing all the things Boots was supposed to be doing. They’re redoing the entire back of the house, which means we’re getting a new back porch!

I BET YOU DIDN’T KNOW WE HAD A BACK PORCH. 

That’s because we’ve been unable to use it for like, 10 years. 

Anytime there are people in the vicinity wearing toolbelts, Henry gets real chummy with them. I guess it’s the fake fixer-upper in him. The contractors know Boots because he used to work for their company, so they sarcastically asked Henry how it was to live next to him. Everyone knows he’s a piece of shit. 

Anyway, I was at work when Henry started texting me pictures of the work they’re doing and then apparently he got to go INSIDE BOOTS’ HOUSE. 

“Oh it’s fucked over there,” he said. “They have to basically gut that whole side of the house.” Henry said there are huge holes in the walls, even!

I told Glenn and Amber about that today and Glenn said, “No wonder you could hear everything going on there, they were probably shouting into the holes.”

OH WE CAN LAUGH ABOUT IT NOW. 

When I came home yesterday, there was a pickup truck in our yard full of Boots’ stuff. I didn’t even care that this crap-wagon was in my front yard because it’s just a sweet reminder that Boots ain’t coming back y’all. Girl bye. 

***

Chooch and I were just spending some quality time together, working out with the KpopX broads. It was during the Twice “Ooh Ahh” routine that Chooch said, “What do you think Boots is doing in jail right now? Crying? Planning an escape?” And then he started imitating him talking to a prison guard the same way he talked to Phyllis. 

And that was all it took to make me start to pee my pants and then Chooch hit himself accidentally during “Bang Bang Bang” and I was done after that. TOO MUCH GIDDY. I’m worthless for the rest of the night. 

It’s been nearly two weeks of pure neighborless bliss over here on Pioneer. I kept putting this blog post on the back burner though because I was so afraid that I was going to jinx the situation, but it’s really looking like Boots will not ever be coming back here so…story time!

I wasn’t here when it happened, but allegedly on the morning of February 13th, some kid ran over to Hot Naybor Chris’s neighbor and said that he had been robbed and asked if he saw a man with the description of Boots.

This is where details get hazy because that neighbor told Hot Naybor Chris who told Henry who told me. Major telephone game in action, and then you have to factor in Henry’s abysmal story-telling skills.

The next thing HNC’s neighbor knew, cops from three different areas had rolled up with a police dog and started searching around our block of houses. Then they came back with the landlord who let them into Boots’ house, and they questioned the random man who was living there with Boots. I guess that dude wasn’t involved in anything because they let him go back in the house.

(He’s the guy that Boots was fighting with the weekend before this happened, and that guy was heated because Boots had apparently stolen three packs of cigarettes from his room.)

Then the police left and found Boots somewhere down the street and ARRESTED HIS GUMBY ASS.

Man, I thought for sure it was going to be for drugs, but it turns out he robbed and assaulted some old man, which appears to be unrelated to the young guy who was questioning HNC’s neighbor so what was that all about?! (I don’t know HNC’s neighbor’s name, but we call him Brookline Shawn because he’s always in the driveway working on his car and he reminds us of Wendy’s husband Shawn. #coolstory)

SEE? I wish I had been here. I hate that I got the FOURTH-HAND account of that day’s sordid events.

I was really worried that Boots was going to get out of jail and come right back, but our landlord was like, “Nope, I’m posting a notice of abandonment on his door” so this is basically the perfect out for our landlord to be able to evict that sleazy-ass motherfucker with ease.

Peace out, Boots. 

And true to his word, the notice was posted!

Guys, that Cap’n Crunch box has been taped up over a broken window for two months. SO CLASSY. I can’t tell you how many times I’d be walking down the sidewalk and catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye and think someone was watching me.

Chooch was standing on Boots’ porch and reading the sign the other day, when the guy who lives in the house next to ours came out and said, “Your friend’s gone, huh?” and Chooch was like, “Stop talking to me, stranger” but the guy went on to say, “He was a loud one, wasn’t he? Sorry you had to deal with that.” I would like to point out that HE LIVES IN A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT HOUSE and could hear how loud that derelict was.

Boots’ real name was written on the sign, so Henry diligently looked him up and that dumb motherfucker has quite the rap sheet. It seems his life took a turn in 1987 and he continued to make poor choice after poor choice. We learned that he was already on probation when this happened (which makes sense because there was one normal-looking guy who would visit sometimes and Henry joked that it was probably his parole officer. So, it was probably his parole officer).

“Oh, he’s not going anywhere,” Henry laughed, when I said that I was afraid he was still going to come back. For the next day or two, some weird people were over there slithering in and out of the house like cockroaches, probably getting their weird shit out of the house. But ever since the notice was posted, no one has been back.

Except for the actual contractors who have been over there doing the work that Boots was supposed to be doing, and probably fixing the additional damage Boots did in the short time he inhabited that side of the house.

It’s nice to know that we were living next to an aggravated assaulter, robber, and fucking drug addict. What a piece of shit. GOODBYE FOREVER. 

(Although, sometimes when it’s too quiet in our house, I swear I can hear him over there WOOing and yelling to himself, like phantom pains IN MY HEAD.)

Well, I’m still sick. Probably a normal person would be like, ‘OH, THIS LIL’ COLD?’ in a dismissive Blanche Devereaux tone, but I don’t get sick very often so when I do, EVERYONE KNOWS IT. I actually get “sort of sick” a lot, where I feel like I’m ABOUT to get sick, like I’m the precipice of good health, about to take the plunge into Germ River, so then I start complaining about OMG MY GLANDS or MY THROAT FEELS STRANGE and then nothing comes of it. My immune system is wack.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I have no energy so here are some pictures from when we went Chong’s for a late lunch on Saturday, and it was beautiful.

We drove an hour to get here and it was worth it. We didn’t even fight!

Chooch is the pickiest eater, and now that he’s a vegetarian he’s even worse. What will he do if we go to Korea?! (Change that “if” to a “when” btw.) However, we got him to eat some kimbap (he doesn’t like the pickled radish but at least he’s down with seaweed) and guksu. Then I spent 10 seconds trying to teach him how to use chopsticks before my frustration got the best of me. I’m not a teacher! I don’t even know how I learned. I taught myself in elementary school and  then made my mom buy me purple chopsticks from Pier 1.

Ugh I wish I still had those.

He said he enjoyed his guksu though, and of course he inhaled the melon popsicle that the sweet lady-owner gave us on the house. The other thing Chooch enjoyed was the bell on our table to get the waiter’s attention. We took that away from him real quick-like, after he rang it and then Henry had to add some off-the-cuff bindaeduk to our order when the waiter diligently responded to Chooch’s summoning.

My favorite part though was that over in Savannah, my k-Kraze inspired Octavia to also go out for Korean food! She asked me for some suggestions and I was like, “Get whatever you want to eat, but you have to listen to BIGBANG on the way home” AND SHE DID. She said “Bang Bang Bang” is her favorite and I don’t blame her for choosing that one because it’s the motherfucking jam.

And then Chooch let me take some pictures of him, and then we had ice cream for dinner. It was pretty much a perfectly well-rounded Saturday in February.

AND NOW I’M SICK.

I took a day off work because I have some kind of cold/allergy thing happening (I can never tell the difference) and was so miserable yesterday that Dr. Amber was like OMG STAY HOME TOMORROW. So I did and I’m still sick but also BORED. I absolutely do not know how to rest. I did go back to sleep for an hour after sending Chooch off to school, so there’s that. Progress?

So far today, I have: 

• washed three dishes, 
• eaten a bowl of cereal because I can’t prepare Korean breakfasts for myself, 
• watched some BTS videos, 
• called Henry to whine, 
• texted Lisa to whine (she’s going to call me later so I can whine out loud), 
• watched a compilation video of BIGBANG eating, 
• watched a compilation video of G-Dragon laughing, 
• played with a packing peanut with Drew, 
• groaned a lot, cried to some Balance & Composure which strangely is what I was doing a year ago today according to TimeHop. 

It’s not even 11:00am yet!!!

What do you guys do when you’re sick?? Henry goes straight upstairs and sleeps for like 6 days. I can’t do that. I’m just sitting here on the couch, fully dressed, wanting something to do but every time I stand up, I get* dizzy and have to sit back down. 

*(autocorrect tried to change “get” to “GD” because I text Henry about G-Dragon so much lol.)

I should probably take some type of medicine at some point. Yesterday, I went upstairs at work to the first aid cabinet thing for generic cold medicine and got one of them stuck in my throat, which was the highlight of Glenn’s work day. Then Wendy walked by and was all, “Aw, because Henry’s not here to crush them up for you?” UGH WENDY. 

Then I stupidly said something about never knowing which kind of pill I need and Glenn was all, “they don’t make pills for what you have.” Walked right into that web. 

Maybe I’ll make this is a liveblog so check back I guess. I hate today. FUCK YOU IMMUNE SYSTEM. 

Now it’s 11:30 and I have:

• Talked to Lisa on the phone,
• Played referee to a cat melee,
• Cleaned up dirt from a succulent pot that drew knocked off the windowsill
• Checked for a fever but I can’t tell because I used the back of my hand and not a thermometer

I want to watch an episode of Boys Over Flowers but Henry will cry if I watch it without him. He won’t watch Walking Dead anymore (he lost interest but it’s probably just too confusing for him) so he laid in bed while Chooch and I watched it Sunday night, then he came back down when it was over and casually mumbled, “Uh, let’s watch Boys Over Flowers.” He’s Team Jun Pyo. 

Every time I try to sit up, I fall back down. I want to go outside :(

Now it’s 1:22pm. I have done nothing but watch vlogs about Korea and whimper. THEN THE LIGHTBULB BURNT OUT IN THE LAMP IN THE LIVING ROOM AND I DONT KNOW WHERE HENRY KEEPS THE LIGHTBULBS. So I cried. 

I CRIED BECAUSE I CANT DO ANYTHING CAN I?!

2:09pm catch-up:

• Tried to reheat the leftover ramyun henry made for dinner last night but it needed more ramyun in it so I was like paralyzed in front of the stove trying to cook ramyun and then when it was time to fry the egg, FORGET IT. what a disaster. I am truly sorry that I did that to you, Egg. 
• Mistakenly told Henry that I thought I ruined his pan in my egg frying odyssey and he was like MY NEW KOREAN PAN? STAY AWAY FROM MY NEW PAN! OMG I HAVE TO GO, IM MAD. He probably went to blow off some steam by smashing his other foot with the pallet jack. Boyfriend suffers many injuries at the hand of the pallet jack.
• My right eye is not as swollen as it was when I woke up this morning so I look less like Sloth from Goonies but still not Ready For The Public. 
• So tired of this couch. 
• My right contact had the shape of a coffee filter but I still put it in my eye. But when I inevitably start complaining about going blind like I do bi-monthly, just please conveniently forget this. 
• I think my muscles are atrophying. 

All I want for dinner is a sun-hahahahaha-daeeeeeeee. A grasshopper one! 

2:28 update:

• I’m not saying I’m magic but I was listening to Balance & Composure today and crying, as you do when you listen to sad boy music, and then they just announced their spring tour which is coming to Pgh! I’m so excited. Hardly any shows have been coming through here lately that I have been stoked for, which is actually good because I’m trying to save money, but still. I want something to get me stoked! And it’s not like I’ll be seeing BIGBANG anytime soon. (OR EVER.)
• Guess where I am??!! Still on the couch, half-laying down.  
• Chooch should be coming home from school soon so I’ll have companionship. UNLESS HE DITCHES ME FOR HIS FRIENDS. 

4:07pm updates:

• Chooch never even came home because he went to that godforsaken gaming place with his friend and Henry still isn’t home and I finally moved off the couch and couldn’t stand up straight for almost an entire minute!!!
• Texted with Chris about Enrique & Julio Iglesias and then we changed Henry’s name to Henrique.
• Now I’m watching the video for Miguel’s “All I Want Is You” and having FEELINGS. In 2013, I had a mix CD (seriously a mix CD) that had the entire Downtown Battle Mountain 2 on it and this song, and it spun on repeat in my bedroom for a good five months. No joke – you can ask henry. He wanted to defenestrate himself by week three. 
• Honestly how do you people “rest.” I ALMOST fell asleep once today but then I got bored. 
• Every time I move, my face leaks. 
• Both of the cats dipped out on me a few hours ago so I have been ALL ALONE. 
• I tried to clean my room but then I started wheezing so back to the couch for me. :(:(:(:(

Also I watched this video like 88 times because of that 5 second acapello “If You” at the end OH MY HEART. 

HENRIQUE IS HOME AND HE BROUGHT ME A GRASSHOPPER SUNDAE! I can’t taste it though :(

5:27pm updates:

• Henry left me again to go pick up Chooch from the gaming place and there is some guy in my driveway talking. In a heart-stopping moment, I thought Boots was back so I legit rolled my ass off the couch and peered out the window but it was just some guy and a dog talking to Hot Naybor Chris. 
• Henry just came home and I made him hug me twice BECAUSE IM SO SAD SICK & LONELY. 
• I feel worse now. Like a swarm of hornets is nesting inside my forehead. 
• HENRY IS THE ONLY PERSON IN THE WORLD WHO I LIKE TO HUG. He’s not honored by this though. 

7:35pm update:

Everything in my sinuses is solidifying and now I feel like I was hit in the face with Henry’s new Korean pan that I did not ruin in my egg-frying odyssey. 

What I’ve done since my last check-in:

• Watched a bunch of live BIGBANG videos
• Watched some eatyourkimchi vlogs with Henry. 
• Stole a piece of Henry’s pizza and bit into it even though he told me it was hot and now I have a burnt mouth in addition to splitting sinuses. 
• Got henry to discuss Kpop. He likes BIGBANG but his review of the other boy idol groups is: “they just like, dance in a V, right?” And then he shrugged because dancing in a v doesn’t impress Henrique the Kpop Judge. 

I think we are going to watch Boys Over Flowers now after Henry crushes up some medicine for me. LOL just kidding. 

He’ll roll it up in a piece of cheese. 

(He just said, “You didn’t take any of this today?!” And I was like “No. I didn’t know what to do” and now he’s acting all disappointed in my lack of independence like this is some new discovery.)

Another post full of bulleted nonsense. Such a blogger. Imagine if I had actually finished college and got that English writing degree.  (I just imagined it and I’m greeting people at Walmart.)

• For a brief window last weekend, Henry had taken over the TV and put on English programming, which was mildly annoying, but at least it was some Gordon Ramsay thing on YouTube and not American bullshit. When Gordon said “rack of lamb” and I was shocked because I was fully expecting him to say “rackalacka,” I knew it was time to get some rest in a dark room somewhere underground, probably for the rest of winter, next to a bear.
• We got some snow two weeks ago, when Boots was still our neighbor, and Henry texted me at work to tell me that he was shoveling his sidewalk with a drywall knife. I turned around to immediately inform Glenn of this update, because my co-workers are invested in this drama. Then after a brief pause, I said, “I don’t even know what that is.” A minute later, I received an email from Glenn with a picture of a drywall knife. “Oh. Yeah, if I had been home, I would have just thought he was using a sharp dustpan.” THE IRONY IS THAT MY PAPPAP OWNED A DRYWALL COMPANY, LOL. I clearly only paid attention to the shiny things that drywall company afforded me to have.
• Speaking of! There was a discussion about cough drops one day at work, and Nate and I agreed that Ricola are superior, the actually Bae of Cough Suppressants. “I got to blow into one of those ricola horns in Switzerland,” I not-so-humblebragged. Glenn needed more information, so I explained that we were at a dinner show for my 10th birthday, and the performers were letting people on stage to blow into those horns they play in the Ricola commercials (hence “ricola horn” duh) and my family was totally shocked that I went up on my accord to participate because I was so shy when I was that age. “Wow, your grandparents took you all over the place, didn’t they,” Glenn said, for once not saying anything disparaging about one of my beautiful stories. “Yeah,”  I laughed. “It didn’t really prepare me for being a poor adult.”
• There’s this song by Girl’s Generation called “Lion heart” and every time I hear it, the beginning of it sounds similar to an older song from the 70s and it was driving me NUTS because I couldn’t think of it. So I played Lion Heart for Henry and he was like QUESTION MARK. All I could come up with was that the song I was thinking of was in the Jacki Sorensen Encore aerobics video I used to fuck with all the time when I was younger, and Henry was like, “Yeah, that clue doesn’t help me at all.” Anyway, I was able to find a tracklist for that Jacki Sorensen VHS (I CAN BUY IT ON VINYL FOR $4!!!) and immediately knew it was Rita Coolidge’s classic late 70s hit “Higher and Higher.” So I played it for Henry back to back with Lion Heart and he just gave me a noncommittal shrug in response. ANYWAY, I’m only telling you this because the next night we went to Eat n Park for dinner and while Henry was at the salad bar, HIGHER AND HIGHER came on so I started yelling, “Henry!!!” was desperately pointing at the speakers in the ceiling while trying to mime “LISTEN TO WHAT SONG IT IS” and it took him awhile but then he understood and laughed. What the fuck is up with Eat n Park and their psychic soundsystem? This just happened two weeks ago when Chooch was singing “Summer of ’69” and it started playing at the same time. Something else happened there too, music-related, but now I can’t remember, however, I can remember the table we were sitting at. So there’s that. Also, Boz Scaggs.

I mean, it’s not exact, but it was similar enough to trigger a correlation in my brain, so step off.

• If you don’t work with me, you won’t care about this, but we’ve implemented a red light as an AUDIT ALERT. Sandy actually had this idea about a year ago, but for some reason, we never did anything about it. Then on Friday, Lou came out of the printer room with an audit in his hand and said, “There really needs to be a light or something that will let us know when there are audits over there.” Long story short: audits are the only thing we do I our department un-electronically. Like, we actually print that shit out and put it in a tray for someone to pick up. It’s very vintage. Anyway, after Lou said that, I pulled out the old lamp that I used three Halloweens ago when I decorated my desk like a funeral home. It’s just been chillin’ under my desk this whole time. YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU’LL FIND UNDER THERE, OK. There were no available outlets to plug it in over where the audits actually reside, but since most of the people who handle the audits sit near me, we felt that putting it on the ledge next to my desk would suffice. Commence a day full of Red Light District and Roxanne jokes.
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  I turned it on once to try it out and Chris came running out of his office in fake audit panic. When there actually was an audit, I turned on the lamp but then panicked because it was so bright, so then I blurted out, “LOU THERE’S AN AIUDIT!” and turned off the lamp. Todd and Glenn were simultaneously like, “What the hell is the point of the lamp if you’re just going to yell that there’s an audit?” and then they were mocking me and saying, “LOU, DINNER’S READY” because I guess I sounded like his mom, ugh. “This is going to have a Pavlov’s effect on them,” Glenn mumbled.

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  “They’re going to start drooling every time the light turns on.” Then I proposed that I start chucking Asian candy at whoever brings the audit back to me and everyone seemed on board with that idea. I’m going to look for spiky ones next time I’m at the Asian market.

• Anyway, all this succeeded in doing was setting off my Giddy Meter, and I had to put my head down at one point because I was choking on giggles. And this reminded me of the time in 8th grade when my homeroom teacher put a chair in the hallway and made me sit out there every time I was overcome with giddiness.
  • Being this giddy and thinking about 8th grade gave me flashbacks to the GREATEST STORY OF MY WHOLE LIFE, and that is one about The Man Who Crossed the Street. This is a TRUE STORY which you can read by clicking that link but if you had the good fortune of sitting near me at work on Friday, then you got to hear me regale a bunch of confused ears with a real life re-telling of this story, in between actual chokes on laughter. After work, I was trying to tell Henry that I told everyone this story but I started laughing all over again and he was just like, “Oh god, that story? I’ll never understand why it’s so funny.” Then Henry said that he wouldn’t be surprised if my giddy bray got me moved to solitary confinement at work, or Gayle’s hallway.
  • What this taught me is that I’m basically the same person I was in 8th grade. I think I’m OK with that.
    • My only explanation is that I had two head injuries during my formative years. Cut me some slack, you guys.
      • Toward the end of the day, Sue came over and said, “OK Lucy, ‘splain” and nodded toward the lamp. She seemed shock that this was actually work-related and admitted that she thought Glenn was trying to be mean to me (LOL, “trying”). Then she said, “But where did the lamp come from?” And I was like, “Oh, it’s from my funeral desk.” After she walked away, I said to Lauren, “That sounds so normal in my head….” and Lauren finished, “But every time you say it out loud, it’s like you realize and then you stutter!” and then oh how we laughed.
        • My favorite part was when Sandy walked by and announced, “Ooh, the audit light’s on! There’s an audit!” and then Ethan came out of his office to get the audit, so Sandy said, “See, it works!” “I didn’t know the light was on until I heard you say that the light was on,” Ethan said, dashing all of our hopes and dreams.

(^^^SEE? IT WAS A BIG DEAL.)

• Henry’s kimbap and banchan is off the charts lately. He even taught (I almost typed “teached” there – so what you’re telling me is that I’d be a great candidate for US Secretary of Education) Chooch how to roll kimbap after he expressed interest. EVERYTHING RULES IN MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW.
  
• You know what America needs? A fucking hero. Maybe it could have been HENRY if he hadn’t gone AWOL from the SERVICE all those years ago. Good one, Henry. Can I nominate G-Dragon as our hero?
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• One of my work friends asked me if I got my hair cut the other day and I said no because my memory might be malfunctioning on the daily but I knew for a fact that I haven’t been to a salon in a very long time, but then hours later, I replayed that short conversation in my head and realized that I’M A LIAR because I had recently cut my own hair, so yes – yes, I did get my hair cut. I swear I’m not a pathological liar.
  • I honestly cut my hair with half-rusted scissors and get more compliments now than when I paid $100 at a salon. HOW.
  • I cut my hair myself because I love the sound of scissors on dry hair. Fight me.
• Last night, Henry was watching live BIGBANG performances on YouTube all on his own. He’s never done that with any other band I like, just saying.
• I just told Chooch he’s annoying and Henry snapped, “you’re both annoying.”

ON THAT NOTE.

I wish this outfit still fit Chooch.

Oh who am I kidding – I wish this outfit fit me.

When I was that age, I was wearing frumpy knee-length skirts and moccasins WITH SOCKS.

Now Chooch is at the age where it’s harder to find cool clothes for him, so I decided that I’m going to buy Henry a sewing machine and he’s going to start making the clothes I design for Chooch – it’ll be like a little Brookline sweatshop! (Better than a little Brookline methlab though, amirite.) So far, everything I designed for him (in my head – I don’t fuck with sketches) has lots of sequins, fun-fur and stuffed animal heads.

Clothing design is one of the few artsy things I haven’t dabbled in yet, but I’m sure I will become poor-to-mediocre at that as well, in due time. Just like jewelry-making and flash fiction!

I know I drive Chooch nuts with my rabid control over his wardrobe, but if I leave it up to him and Henry, he’ll be wearing over-sized Minecraft shirts and shapeless jeans and I won’t allow that. He’s either going to grow up with the unbridled confidence to be fashionably adventurous (LIKE G-DRAGON <3), or he’s going to wear Crocs and stained Steelers seeatshirts.

I guess I’ll still love him either way….?

I think the moral of this uninspired post is that I’m bored as fuck and need a new hobby because blogging and fake-painting make me yawn. In other words: Get your thread and bobbins, Henry Robbins!

ETA: I just filled Henry in and he said “How does your new hobby involve me sewing?” LOL oh Henry.

PICTURE IT: Somewhere around 10:00 Saturday Night (but not 10:15). Chooch and I had recently finished our Kpop workout and were hanging out with Henry, eating ice cream (just plain American kinds, ugh) and watching some Korean variety shows, WHEN THERE CAME A KNOCK UPON THE DOOR. Cue Chooch and me screaming and running away like we were about to be raided (for what, having too many clowns?) while Henry calmly rose to see to the knocking. I just had this sinking feeling that it was Boots, or someone for Boots, OR MAYBE THE GAS MAN? Even though it’s been 7 years since we’ve been on sour terms with the gas company. I think I have PTSD, and door-knocking triggers me.

“It’s just Chris and Monica,” Henry sighed, at which point Chooch and I tentatively came back into the room, hearts still pounding, trying to laugh off our unfounded paranoia. (In their defense, they didn’t actually ambush us like a plain-clothed SWAT team. They texted me but I was in Korean mode and ignoring the non-Hangul transmissions on my phone.)

I feel like Henry probably flashed Chris and Monica his best, most penetrating HOSTAGE EYES every time I wasn’t looking, as if to say, “PLEASE HELP ME ESCAPE LITTLE KOREA. SHE’S LIKE KIM JONG-UN UP IN HERE. I MADE MUNG BEAN PORRIDGE TODAY — MUNG BEAN PORRIDGE!  I JUST WANT TO WATCH NCIS AND EAT A FUCKING CHEESEBURGER AND LISTEN TO THE MOTHERBITCHIN’ EAGLES, AMERICA, AMERICA, GOD SHED HIS GRACE ON THEE!”

But they were just like, “Did you hear something? Why do I suddenly feel oppressed?” and I was all, “That was probably just the sound of the frightened patriarchy, hey let’s talk about kpop and our reproductive rights!”

Can you believe we haven’t seen Chronica since our Christmas party?! The horrors! So even though they were just passing through, it was still awesome to get to hang out for a bit, talking about boners (DON’T WORRY IT’S JUST LOCKER ROOM TALK) and what I eat on my K-diet.

Henry took the floor to brag about his K-cooking prowess (he even bought a pan that’s made in Korea), but then I chimed in that usually the only time I don’t eat a Korean meal is for breakfast during the week because I’m left to  my own devices and mostly end up just eating a piece of bread.

“That’s so sad,” Chris said in a voice that could have been translated to mean, “Monica, let’s adopt Erin.”

They needed to leave by 10:30, so at 10:24 I cried, “WAIT! Before you leave, will you watch ONE, just ONE, BIGBANG video?” and they were like, “….yes, question mark question mark” at which point my brain nearly exploded trying to choose JUST ONE video, so I let Chooch do it and he cooly suggestion Fxxk It. So that’s what we watched while Chooch and I sniped at each other about who likes them more and then I squealed, “ISN’T G-DRAGON THE PRETTIEST PERON IN THE WHOLE UNIVERSE” and Monica said that yes, she thought that maybe he was.

“Second to my wife,” she wisely added.

And then they left while they still knew some of the words to the Star Spangled Banner.