I might need a Pod for all the photos I’ve brought home from my Pappap’s house. A lot of the photos are familiar to me but Corey and I have unearthed a ton that are new to us. It’s funny because in my mind, the heyday of that house was obviously the early 80s because hello, HERE’S ERIN. But then we found several photo albums full of evidence of some totally bitchin’ parties that were had in the 60s and 70s it’s like nope, THAT was the heyday. 

“They had a freaking band playing in the game room!” Corey said, thrusting a photo album in my rubber gloved-hands.

You know this intrigued me because BANDS ARE BASICALLY MY WHOLE LIFE. I posted this on Facebook immediately and my Aunt Susie (my mom’s younger sister)  commented and said “Oh, that’s Hausen. Dad had them play at the house every year.” 

#nbd

So for the hell of it, I googled their name and found the bio of one of the members, who still plays in bands with some legit Pittsburgh musicians, but my favorite part of his bio was when he casually mentions that he briefly played in the Urge with TRENT REZNOR. 

I’m so obsessed with this now and want to go to see them and cry TELL ME ABOUT THE TIMES YOU PLAYED AT MY PAPPAP’S HOUSE because I’m sure they’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. It was only 40 years ago. 
   

Meanwhile, my grandma was rocking some COUTURE COIFS. So in addition to hiring Hausen to play at my imaginary wedding, I’m flat out obsessing over how stylish my grandma’s freaking hair was, decade to decade. Seeing all of these old pictures makes me appreciate her so much more, because damn you guys, my grandma was a babe!

I’m also a bit surly that my mom and her sisters were so pretty in their formative years and the universe clearly stepped in after I was born and said, “OK this fam has seen enough beauty so now I present to you this baby who will have 5-6 good years before blimping out and ruining her pretty golden locks with a perm while also having a brief (as in 3 years) battle with facial eczema.”

That happened. 

On top of all this, my mom stuffed my frumpy body UGLY PLAID SKIRTS, KNEE HIGHS AND MOCASSINS. 

Anyway. My grandma’s hair. Let’s look at more of it. 

That’s my mom on the left! I got zero of her looks. :( I apparently look like my birth dad. 
  

The 80s <3

I can’t stand how pretty she was!   

This was her Bahamas look.    

In one of the stack of photos I found, there were no less than 8 photos of the TV, because my grandma wanted the same hair as some broad from “Dallas” and that’s what she would do so she could have a picture to take to the salon. She taught me well, so in the 90s I snapped an entire roll of film during one of Carrie Brady’s scenes on Days of Our Lives and took it to the salon and wound up with nothing like it because I’m not my grandma and spent all of the 90: crying post-salon trips. 

Hashtag Grandma Goals, for real. I need to step up my game in a BIG WAY so my future grandkids’ response to old photos of me won’t be “hnnnnnggggg.” 

Beehive, maybe?

Today at work, Todd strolled over and said that he decided I remind him of Mother Teresa. I LIKE WHERE THIS IS GOING, I thought to myself, as I swiveled in my seat to give Todd my full, undivided attention.

He name-dropped M.Teresa several more times, basically insinuating that I might even be BETTER than her, what with how I’m changing the world, one postcard at a time. My head was inflating to Trump dimensions.

Turns out Todd was just trying to get Amber2 riled up, who was standing near my desk but not paying attention, so he eventually had to resort to saying, “RIGHT AMBER?”

Once she was looped in, and after adequate eye-rolling, she asked, “And what would you even be the saint of? Brookline?”

GOOD QUESTION! I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, which was something about clowns, but it didn’t originally make sense because nothing I say anymore makes any sense and I suck at everything that requires using any portion of my brain, which turns out is basically everything.

Since then, I have settled on Clown Town. Saint Erin of Clown Town. I am the tart that all the clowns will pray to when they can’t find their red noses or get a pie thrown in their face, maliciously as opposed to comically.

Honestly though, I AM PERFECT FOR THIS JOB.

Todd picked up my employee badge thing and deemed that this will be the picture of me that appears on grilled cheeses, potato chips, and prayer cards:

I was so excited to be a saint, but then a little while later, dumb Glenn mumbled that PRINCE HAD DIED and now I don’t care about being a saint anymore because Prince is dead.

Hello this is a blog post from 2011. I’m revisiting happy times and because my life is so dumb, this is the first thing that came to mind?!

Carnies are arguably one of the best things about the fair, especially if they will engage with you.

I’m sure a lot of people will disagree with me though, like one of my co-workers who kept sayin, “NO, THE FOOD! THE FOOD IS THE BEST PART! to the point where I thought it was going to come to blows. Which is why I used the word “ARGUABLY.”

I mean, if anything, carnies make people like Henry feel more attractive, I’m sure.

One of these days, I am going to remember my pad and pencil and ask one for an interview. I’m dying to see their lair.

So without further ado, here is a collection of some of my favorite specimen from this year’s Westmoreland County Fair.

I. Cathy

A female carny is a rare sight at the fair and often easy to mistake for just another guy. But if you look past her hardened stare and voluptuous jowls, you can just barely make out the slight outline of breasts beneath her neon polo.

Her name is Cathy and she was not particularly fond of me after I had the audacity to lower the safety bar on my own after Laura and I boarded the Viking, a mini-Pirate ship knockoff.  When she saw my crime, her face became steeped with annoyance and disdain.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said in a carny-drawl remiss of any semblance of femininity. I believe I gulped a little and apologized, even though I wasn’t sure what I had done wrong. Cathy shook her head and continued past us to the rest of the riders who weren’t ballsy enough to try and do her job for her.

Luckily, the man behind us found himself to be a bit too rotund to fit comfortably in the seat; Cathy manually released everyone’s safety bar, allowing him to exit. This also afforded me a chance to have a do-over by keeping  my hands off the holy safety bar. Cathy seemed pleased about this.

Before the ride started, I heard her tell the girl behind me to keep her arms inside the ride. “You don’t want them to get chopped off, do ya?” she snarled. But then while the ship was a’rockin’, she stood below encouraging us to flail our arms and emote carnival joy.

“I don’t understand,” I yelled to Laura. “I thought she didn’t want us to have our arms chopped off?!” Meanwhile, Cathy stood down there by the gate, pantomiming being shot in the heart.

“You guys are killing me!” she screamed.

“Wooo!” I cheered, calling forth my best Ben Stein on the Thrill Ride impression in an attempt to appease her. I kept my elbows tight against my side and raised  my forearms  just enough to get my hands up near my face, in an effort to show enthusiasm without becoming That Girl Who Lost Her Arms At the Fair.

Later on, Laura and I were enjoying a casual jaunt on the Yo-Yo when she noticed that Cathy was over on the Viking, doing the same “You’re killing me!” routine. I felt extremely betrayed. I thought that was just for us.

Fuck you, Cathy.

Though I have to say she was pretty much the only carny who even tried to engage us, with the exception of an old, grizzled mountain man carny operating the Yo-Yo who grazed my left boob when he pointed out that I forgot to buckle the second safety belt. That right there is how the fair keeps me coming back.

II. H-h-h-hot Carny

The No-Name Yellow Ride was back in full effect at the Westmoreland County Fair. You might remember that I have an extreme hate-hate relationship with this mothershitting torture device. I think I even dubbed it the Aerial Pelvic Exam last time. But Laura was willing to ride it all so I felt brave and decided I couldn’t let her leave the fair without taking a spin on this stupid ride. WHAT KIND OF RIDE DOESN’T HAVE A NAME? The kind that wants to be able to skulk away in anonymity in the event of death.

“Can we ride separately?” I asked the young, bronze, supple, handsome, hot, OMGWANTTOSEEHISWEENER carny manning the ride. He gave a slight nod, which I interpreted as “Meet me behind the porta johns at sunset.

Bring Saran Wrap, chocolate whipped cream and stirrups.”

That Old Tie-Dyed Bitty is like 80, walks with a cane, and STILL rode more shit than Janna and Henry do.

“I have a crush on him,” I admittedly all breathlessly to Laura, who was sitting behind me. She just laughed but I know that she agreed that if you look past the fact that he’s like, 16, HE IS A REAL CATCH.

For a carny.

I could tell he hasn’t been in the game for very long. His fingernails were clean and his trail of illegitimate children is probably pretty short. And even though he never smiled, I’m pretty sure he had all his teeth. I’m wagering that a wad of Skoal would have rolled out of his mouth had he ever smiled though.

I tried to fixate  on him to keep myself from expiring as the Yellow Ride pendulated us wickedly through the air. I have a vague recollection of Henry and Mike standing on the ground watching smugly as we pulled all sorts of petrified faces. After the thirtieth revolution, I pretty  much lost all will to even scream and resigned to hanging limply over the side of the seat as all the color and life drained from my face. I noticed that behind me, Laura had quit laughing, too.

In some countries, this is how they get people to talk.

Anyway, after the ride ended, I couldn’t unlatch my safety bar. And by “couldn’t” I mean that I didn’t even try because I wanted H-h-h-hot carny to rescue me. But then Laura bounded out of her seat and said, “Here I can do it!” while I was, in slow motion, shouting, “Nooooooo!” He was one car away from putting his hands within inches of my crotch.

Laura was extremely apologetic after that. I COULD HAVE BEEN PREGNANT WITH HIS BABY BY NOW. I would have made her the godmother, too. Good job, Laura!

It’s OK, because later, I made her and Mike accompany me while I photostalked him. Mike seemed a bit unsure about this, probably because Henry was like, right there (as if Henry expects anything else from me), but Laura was a good wing-woman. Probably because she has been reading my blog for so long!

I took this picture after we had been standing there way past the point of “casual pausing.” He looked right at me so I yelled, “RUN!” and then fled with flailing arms. Laura and Mike calmly retreated behind me.

After catching up with Henry, I tried to show him this picture but he just pushed me away and called me a child.

III. Amish Carny

SEE LAST POST.

IV. Bingo Carny

Unfortunately, I did not get a photo of Bingo Carny. We were standing right next to the Bingo tent while Henry was making the longest lemonade purchase of all time, right when a new game was starting up. The woman barking into the mic sounded apathetic and severely lacked the enthusiasm that Powers Great American Midways drills into their game carnies. (The Westmoreland County Fair is powered by Tropical Amusements and it fails miserably in the moxie department. Henry is annoyed that I know enough about the amusement industry to even draw such comparisons, but I could make a pie chart if you want.)

Anyway, the first ball she drew was O69, which she announced as such: “Oh?….69.” Like she was kind of surprised and into it at first, and then bored and unimpressed during it.

In other words, she sounded exactly like me.

And she just kept repeating it over and over, making Mike, Laura and me laugh harder each time. Henry just frowned because he is Big Adult.

After Henry got his fancy lemonade which took so long to acquire it should have been served in a bottle with a Mike’s label wrapped around it, we continued past the Bingo tent only to find out that Bingo Carny, who was definitely as old and worn-out as her voice, was a veritable magnet for facial piercings. Totally was not expecting that.

V. Lola’s Dad

Not a carny, but just some dad that I hated and couldn’t shake and just sleazy enough that someone should have jammed him into a neon Tropical Amusements polo.

Chooch was riding some dumb kid coaster which didn’t even come CLOSE to rivaling the Wacky Worm, and I was standing off to the side fiddling my camera like the pocket vagina it is. Suddenly, the left side of my body was jolted and paralyzed all at once with a booming cat call of “LOLA!!!!! LOLA!!!!” I visibly jumped and shirked back.

“Sorry,” the guy laughed as he noticed my alarmed expression. “That’s my daughter,” he explained, pointing at some random child on the ride. Then he launched into a new round of “LOLA!!!!!”s as if suddenly I would be OK with this.  I caught Henry laughing at this new uncomfortable situation I found myself in.

His voice speared my brain and conjured up visions of being hog-tied in the trunk of a 1988 Dodge Omni.

Of course, he happened to be everywhere I was for the rest of the day. Fuck you, and fuck Lola too.

[Up next: More random thoughts on the fair, the Jersey Shore Invasion, possibly a Henry interview (I have the pictures, I just need the cooperation!). I have a million more words to write. Hellllllp.]

Sharing these photos has been really cathartic for me. If you’re still visiting my blog even through all my mopiness and ridiculously embarrassing navel-gazing (yes, I’m aware, but I can’t stop!), then thank you, baes. I like sharing my woes with the world. I’m just a generous kind of broad.

  Chooch inverted that crucifix the other day and I was like, “BOY! NOT WHEN WE’RE TWO DAYS AWAY FROM GOING TO A BIRTHDAY PARTY IN A CHURCH.” Shit, son.

  
The sunset was pastel AF the other night when I was leaving. I miss living on this street a lot sometimes. There is so much wildlife everywhere! Deer and turkey just like, casually stroll down the lane together, like it’s no big deal. And Henry pointed out a possum the other night when we were leaving. When I still lived at home, we used to have sheep as pets, for Christ’s sake. (And a blood-thirsty rabbit.)

I never noticed these faces on the dining room mirror before.

At one time, this porch was entirely open. Corey and I have been shaking Val down for Original House details. (There was a fire at one point and it was rebuilt into what it is today.) She pointed out that in one of downstairs bathrooms, there was a window where a mirror currently hangs, and that’s where she used to sneak out of the house, haha. Also?! Her bedroom pre-house fire was the current clown room! Which actually was never really called the clown room by anyone but me.

It was technically considered the “stereo room.”

I mean, here’s the carpet:

I’d like to curl up and die on that carpet. BIG FUCKING EMO SAD SACK SIGH.

Found a stack of these in a bathroom drawer.
  

Chooch’s new bae. He’s been spending so much time there that now he’s starting to have dreams about the house, which makes me sad, but at least it’ll live on in someone else’s memory now too I guess? He said he’s going to start writing it into his Amethyst story and my heart was basically pumping confetti and smaller, baby hearts into my chest.

Yesterday we made Val order us pizza (lol) and Chooch insisted on eating at the dining room table, which I swear to god probably hasn’t been used since…1983? I remember my grandparents had a really big Christmas dinner one year with lots of extended family, and people sat in the dining room, in the living room at a long table, and also at the kitchen table. There were people everywhere but more importantly, there were presents for me everywhere, too!  #spoiledbrat

#formalpizzaparty #whysoformal #usingthegoodpapertowels

  

This fucking bowling game was always so frustrating, even back when it was new and should have worked properly.

Music was clearly super important in this house. There were speakers all over the house so that you could listen to whatever was playing in the clown room, or the kitchen, etc. There was always music playing in the kitchen when I was growing up and I think that’s a big reason why I always leave the radio on in my bedroom.

I had so many good hangouts in this room during my teen years! This is the largest of the three game rooms in the basement.

Glass guns filled with wine, which Henry discovered in a drawer.

ALONG WITH A PROJECTOR!!

This is the carpet in the game room we always referred to as “the pool room” because, you know, that’s where the pool table is.
  I used to be so good at PacMan, but my Pappap was a champion.

I loved fucking around with the intercom system when I was a kid, making it squawk and being generally annoying which I know sounds shocking.

Corey was fiddling with the one in the den and it still works kind of! We heard Henry and Chooch outside. I never actually knew how to properly work those things, though.

That time Corey turned the corner and didn’t expect anyone to be there.

MORE TOM SELLECK!

This house needs preserved,  you know? Some of the things inside there, you just don’t see anymore. How does that quote go? It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. LOL. My life is that quote AF right now.

This weekend so far has been nice, and nice is what I need. We dropped Chooch off at his chorus rehearsal and went to Eide’s so I could stand in line and wait for them to open because god forbid I didn’t get my grubby hands on the RSD16 Xiu Xiu/Twin Peaks release, which was the one record that I HAD to have.

I also grabbed the Goblin Suspiria 7″ and then smartly stopped at that because I could have easily spent all of our vacation money.

Restraint, sometimes I have it.

Meanwhile, Kara had walked over to the school where Chooch’s chorus rehearsal was because she wanted to hear him sing, and can I just tell you how much that meant to me? I mean, I’m sure it probably meant a lot to him too, but this isn’t Oh Honestly, Chooch, so we’re just going to focus on my feelings here. Kara is such a good friend! She was still there when Henry and I got back, so I got to hang out with her and covet her son Theo’s PERFECT CURLS like I always do because oh, to have such effortlessly cute hair.

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That kid on the far right, tho. HE IS A FUCKING JOY TO WATCH OMG DO I LIKE CHILDREN NOW?! No. I don’t.

Kara admitted that hearing the kids sing made her tear up a little bit and I reluctantly had to agree — I’m not a fan of children, but hearing these kids sing is kind of inspiring. This isn’t like listening to a bunch of kids who are forced to sing in their school’s holiday show. These kids were chosen to be there and are stoked to sing. This isn’t something that we have to drag Chooch out of bed for on Saturday mornings. I’m really excited for the big show next month!! Especially because it’s right down the street from my work so I don’t even have to go home. Convenience, I like it.

Henry and I don’t sit together anymore. We’re estranged sitters. It works better for everyone this way. Also, give Henry a chair and he will fall asleep in it immediately.

After chorus rehearsal, we went to Amber²‘s son Teddy’s first birthday party! Amber¹ was there too, with her boyfriend Brian, so we all sat together and pigged out on plates of cheese and fruit and marveled over the fact that we were in a church and somehow our foreheads weren’t sizzling with the 666.  Chooch was immediately drawn to a blue balloon and was sparring with it dangerously close to the cake table and I was SWEATING. Everyone was like, “Chooch is being fine!” but I cried, “SOMETHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN. THERE IS TENSION IN THE AIR.” Every time he went off to get more food, I was clenching at the table.

Turns out, nothing ended up happening. Especially when I let him use my phone and he killed a good 45 minutes playing with Face Swap.

Chooch as Bradley, lol.

We had a really fun time, but one of the highlights was definitely when Amber1 realized that Teddy was wearing an Uno t-shirt because he’s one. It was a real “wait for it…” moment.

In addition to the table of fruit, veggies, and cheese, there were stuffed shells and an entire hoagie ring WITH JUST VEGGIES on it. Oh how my meatless heart soared. Well done on the food spread, Amber²! When I was getting my meatless hoagie, Brian was behind me going on about Red Bull dressing, and I just walked away because I didn’t know what he was talking about. He brought it up again back at the table and Amber was like, “The what now?” and he was like, “Red Bull dressing. They have it up there.” And then it turned out only Henry understood what he was talking about because Amber and I both thought he meant that the dressing was made with Red Bull but apparently it’s dressing that is used at the restaurant Red Bull Inn, like how were we supposed to know that!?

Another highlight was when Brian asked me what the next concerts are that I’m going to and I was like, “YOU ARE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE BRO” so I happily told him all about Bled Fest and then we talked about Warped Tour and basically, Amber has to marry him now.

I got Teddy “Where the Sidewalk Ends” and wrote him a note inside about how there is a band that named themselves Silverstein after Shel Silverstein and if he ever wants to annoy his mom, he should listen to them real loud because she’ll hate it.

:)

Amber kept trying to thrust Teddy at me because my baby allergy is hilarious to others. Luckily, she gave me treat bag for my troubles.

Then I told Chooch he was going home with Amber and Brian and he was all, “Thank god” because WE’RE HORRIBLE PARENTS, EVERYBODY. Thanks for inviting us, Amber!! It’s always fun to see my work buddies out in the wild.

After that, it was more #MakePappapsHouseGreatAgain.

We made a lot of progress and then somehow, we all just naturally migrated into the living room and spent a good hour hanging out and casually talking like a normal family, and THIS is what I meant about silver linings. I can’t remember the last time my mom and I sat in the same room and laughed.

The catalyst to this was horrific and traumatic, but the fact that we are able to still find humor in it and essentially coexist peacefully through it all speaks volumes. Everyday, I wake up and can’t wait to get back over there.

BETTER DAYS ARE COMING!!

“You shall fear the wrath of the Real Alien Commander!” Bradley announced.

“Oh I-I will!” Drew answered.

“Well, clearly you want to die!” Bradley replied.

“As I have won 78 UFC Medals. So you shall die!”

It’s true though Bradley had won 72 UFC Medals.

“As Martin Luther King Jr. once said ‘There’s no reason to fight. When you have love.’ So let’s end this,” Pearl pleaded.

“Martin Luther never said that, and I’m no historical person,” Amethyst grinned.

The aliens had left the door open. So the aliens that ran away peered behind a bush that had no leaves because of the nuke.

“Ye’ Humans could need ay potion!” a weird wizard said from the top of the UFO dropping random potions on the aliens and humans. It specifically hit Penelope, Drew, and Bradley. It made Bradley slim, and made Drew buff but a bunny, and Penelope was now a human.

“Finally, I-I can spoke about-” Bradley cut Penelope off.

“I AM NOT BUFF ANYMORE! AHHH!” Bradley panicked.

“As me were s-saying, finally, I-I could spoke about who Drew is liar, and no tell truth,” Penelope tattled.

“Ever since me were baby bunny, Drew be kicking me bum day all,” Penelope added.

“Okay shut up! You have very bad grammar!” Pearl stopped Penelope.

The wizard stared and curled his lip.

“Oops!” the wizard apologized.

“Get back here you horrible person,” Bradley yelled.

Drew, the buff bunny, jumped on Bradley and bit his neck.

As she was very angry, she could still attack aliens.

“Drew, Penelope? Is that you?” Drew’s mom asked struggling to open her eyes.

“Drew? Why are you a bunny, and Penelope’s a human?” Drew’s dad asked also struggling to open up his eyes.

“Last time we saw you it was white and cold. What’s is it called?” Drew’s mom struggled to remember.

“No, last time we saw them it was green and colored things were in the ground,” Drew’s dad corrected.

“It be called Winter and Spring,” Penelope told them.

“We have a day of birth box wrapped up and has a ribbon for you,” Drew’s mom said.

  
Thanks for the feel-good moment, Time Hop. This was right up there with the time I figured out how to return a DVD to Redbox ALL ON MY OWN after realizing it wasn’t working because the DVD wasn’t in the case. DEDUCTIVE REASONING. 

Maybe tomorrow I will have the energy to piece together words that aren’t all DOOM & GLOOM*, like words that tell the story of the trolley shuttle I’ve had to endure.  

*(I swear there isn’t a funeral dirge announcing my entrance through every door. I wish!)

   
Chooch wanted to recreate this photo I took of Corey in 2008. I had to use my iPhone and couldn’t remember offhand exactly how the original was framed, but Chooch was pretty happy with the result. He loves to be like his Uncle CORCOR.*

*So annoying after he says it 87 times a minute when Corey is around 

 
Today was one of the worst days I’ve experienced so far in life, yet somehow there were silver linings throughout. Life is short. Grudges are dumb. Family is forever. 

I’m ready to go back to last weekend now.

We’ll be spending the day driving home from Lancaster and then watching The Walking Dead. I hope whatever you do today, it’s delightful!

Just don’t eat too many jellybeans. It might seem delightful in the moment, but nope. Don’t do it, my little bunnies.  

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, small pleasures. 

It’s really hard to resist the urge to plaster my blog with cat pictures all the livelong day. I think I was doing too good of a job though, because the lady we got the cats from sent me a Facebook message a few weeks ago and was like, “Um, are the kitties still doing well….?”

They really are doing well! My succulents, on the other hand…Panne is on his last leg and they pretty much brutally murdered Agnes. (They’re not like, eating them…just digging them up, knocking them over, having absolutely no REGARD FOR MY GREEN BEAUTIES WHATSOEVER.) I had a full-fledged temper tantrum about this last week while Henry and Chooch JUST SAT THERE DOING NOTHING.

Evonne brought them some Cat Sip over the weekend and they somehow found the will to share with each other.

Penelope is the smaller one, but she’s definitely the instigator. She also loves to bite and it’s so annoying!

This picture sucks because Henry took it on his lame Henry-phone. This is actually the box that Penelope was transported in. Drew was in there first and Penelope pushed her way in because SISTERS.  That look is almost on Penelope’s face. So smug!

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It looks like Drew is the boss, but this just isn’t true. (Sorry, Chooch! Your cat’s kind of dumb.)

This morning, I woke up to what sounded like a dump truck full of cinder blocks crashing into things downstairs. “Don’t wanna know,” I mumbled, and fell back asleep.

Cats, man.

Friends and foes, welcome to the quarterly collection of RIP Glenns. My last RIP Glenn dump was back in September, because I’m a slacker. I try to be diligent with the celebrity deaths, but sometimes some fly under the radar or maybe I just determine that they’re too obscure/plain to deface a Glenn. If there’s someone who you feel I sorely dropped the ball on and are desperate to see a Glenn made in their honor, please let me know and I will do my best!

It seems like there’s at least one big horror icon in every round of RIP Glenns. :(  Marilyn Burns died in 2014 so now Leatherface is chasing her around again in…Heaven? Probably not Heaven. Seriously though, look at how effortlessly Glenn transforms into Leatherface.

I woke up one morning and noticed that one of my friends had posted a video from the 2001 Rolling Rock Town Fair. I thought it was just a random thing, and I commented that  hey!

I was at that show too.  And then right after that, another friend posted on my timeline about the same thing, the time we were at this one particular show, and I was like, “Huh. That’s a weird coincidence…” Then it occurred to me that it was because Stone Temple Pilots had headlined that festival….and Scott Weiland had been reported dead that morning….

…and from there, Lemmy. What a start to 2016.

Learned about Bowie’s death from someone I hate-follow on Instagram. It’s such a dumb habit but the first thing I do every morning after I turn off my alarm is mindlessly open Instagram. My life is so rich.

So many iconic faces of Bowie but I went for Ziggy Stardust. Still seems so unreal!

AND THEN GLENN FREY? My first instinct was not to listen to the Eagles, but his solo jam “You Belong to the City.” I used to make Lisa so mad in high school because I insisted he was saying “boobs” instead of “moves” in one of the lines and Lisa would shout, “MOVES. MOVES!” Lol forever.

I’m listening to it right now, and have a strong urge to watch Miami Vice.

ITS IN YOUR BOOBS

ITS IN YOUR BLOOD

YOURE A MAN OF THE STREET

He seemed like a real dick though, didn’t he?

I love that I didn’t have to do a single thing to Glenn’s plain face and this one is still recognizable.

I had Punky Brewster high tops when I was a kid. Man, she was such a cooler role model than all these gross Miley Cyrus fembots girls idolize nowadays.

Sorry George Gaynes. I really have nothing else to say about you. Thanks for taking  care of Punky…

?

I’m going to be 100% honest here, I thought he was already dead….?! I bet that Mayberry tourist trap we visited over the summer was poppin’ off when this death occurred.

OMG the day Harper Lee died, I had posted a different RIP Glenn because I was trying to get caught up and people were like “WHAT ABOUT HARPER LEE!” and I was like, “FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, GIVE ME A SECOND, FUCK!!!” People are hungry for the RIP Glenns, and I love it.

What a strange thing to be the subject of so many death hoaxes that an actual death watch website is made for you. Much like Don Knotts, when Abe Vigoda legitimately passed away this year, I was like, “Wait….didn’t that happen in the 90s? And then he came back for Good Burger? And then died again?” I’m so confused.

But what I really miss are the “This is your brain on drugs” commercials with the sizzling egg in a frying pan.

Man, this one hurt. I know he had a long and storied career full of brilliant character portrayals, but I gotta be That Guy and go with Snape. What an icon.

Crazy fact about me: I don’t really care about the Beatles one way or another. I don’t hate them, I don’t love them, I won’t turn the station if they come on the radio, but I don’t own any of their albums. I know. I’m a fucking monster.

Man, sorry Angus — he had the worst timing possible for giving up the ghost because it was right smack in the middle of the whole world shutting down in remembrance of David Bowie. And then I forgot to make his RIP Glenn until YESTERDAY. Amber1 said she didn’t know who he was, and I told her that the horror movie Phantasm was really the only thing I knew about him. “He was one of those actors who made a living on the horror convention circuit,” I said.

“Oh, kind of like Andy from Child’s Play,” Amber1 said.

“Yeah—-hey!” I cried, when I realized that she was making light of my BOYFRIEND ANDY FROM CHILD’S PLAY. And then we all laughed.

Lazy Saturday up in here. Chooch and I went to see Carly Rae Jepsen last night and were out way too late; I don’t know how I was able to sleep last night! Anyway, once I’m done buzzing about that I’ll write some sort of ALL CAPITAL LETTER review, I’m sure.

Then my friend Evonne stopped by with a dozen of FARM FRESH EGGS, a lemon, a lime, and some Cat Sip for the kittens. Thanks, Evonne!

I’m using my blog as a diversion because the Penguins are playing the Flyers and my nerves are shot and I’m trying not to look at the TV for fear of vomiting. So, here are some pictures.
Fucking DREW killed more of my succulents and I have nowhere else to move them! RIP Agnes. Maybe you’ll miraculously grow back.

Perhaps if I hadn’t given my plants names and personalities, it would hurt me less when they’re murdered. :(

 Pre-CRJ dinner date at Grant’s. Henry and I split a piece of their coconut cream pie (THE BEST IN THE WORLD) because I was already feeling sick (butterflies!) but now I wish I could go back in time and just eat the entire pie. Slices are pointless.

Also, I feel blessed that this quality joint is within walking distance of Mr. Small’s.  
This is my favorite building downtown Pittsburgh. Look at the design on that facade! My friend Chris found out for me that this is the BUHL BUILDING and I have to remember to google that sometime soon because once every 11 years, I allow myself to learn a thing about my city.

 POSTCARDS! I think I have mailed 7 so far so check yo’ mailboxes! If you get one, tag it on Instagram: #greetingsfromerinslunchbreak

Lol I have no idea what sort of meaningless movement I’m tying to start here but please just let me my fun. I’ll lose interest soon, I’m sure! 

I found this old picture on Flickr the other day and it made me laugh because Chooch still makes the same expression when I want him to take a picture with me.  

The other succulent killer, Penelope. SHE’S LUCKY SHE’S SO CUTE.

The Penguins are winning 4-1 with a minute left so I think I’m safe to look up now. SEE YA, MY LITTLE CHIA PETS.

The lord stared down at his guard and grew with anger and disgusted.

“You will pay you hooman!” he shouted at Yuki.

Penelope hopped around the dead alien, and licked the blood of the ground.

“Ew Penelope!” Garnet and Amethyst whispered.

“Huh? Who’s there?” the lord overheard Garnet and Amethyst whisper.

Garnet and Amethyst zipped their mouths shut as they stared at the lord.

He looked around the building, he couldn’t see them anywhere. Yuki ran off, the lord’s scared of Penelope, and Pearl was taken away.

Pearl got shoved into the U.F.O with a rope tied around her hands.

“Bloop Brz Brlp,” conversations echoed around the U.F.O.

“What is this place?” Pearl thought.

The aliens were stupid because they didn’t lock her up in a cage or cell. She figured out a way to escape. She luckily had a nail file in her bag. She pulled it out, and went over in a closet. She took it and sliced the thin rope off of her wrists. Her father knew martial arts and he taught Pearl a little bit of the moves: Dropkick, that’s it she forgot most of the others. She freed herself from the rope tied around her wrists and climbed up the ladder behind her. She used the only move she knew on a alien guard. The alien guard collapsed. He had a baton in his left sleeve just in case. She took it.

“Why don’t I just escape, these aliens are dumb anyway,” Pearl whispered to her chest.

Garnet was walking up behind the lord and punched him. His skull felt as hard as metal.

Before she could even recover from the cracked knuckle, she was being carried up the ladder.

“Garnet no! Don’t go,” Amethyst cried.

She was being carried up the ladder too the minute she said that. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl were trapped in the U.F.O together. Garnet injured, Amethyst scared, and Pearl feeling strong.

*Slam* the door swung open.

“I got an order for you” another “alien?” sounded in.