Michele ruined my life today. She emailed several of us at work an article about how the TROLLEY IS SHUTTING DOWN FOR 6 MTHS.

SIX MOTHERFUCKING MONTHS. 

THAT IS A LOT OF MONTHS. 

In case you didn’t already know, here are some important facts:

• The trolley is how I get to work basically every single day now that Henry’s job sucks and he hasn’t been able to drive me.
• It’s way more stressful now that I don’t work late shift every day and have to deal with the morning rush hour crowds. 
• It took me like 3 years to come to terms with commuting to work.
• I have major anxiety when my routine is changed. 
• Horrible things happen to me a lot just on my walk to the trolley alone, such as ISSUES WITH CROSSING THE STREET and strangers wanting to talk, and then my day is ruined. You can ask Henry because sometimes he’s on the phone with me and witnesses the horrors! (Don’t let him tell you I embellish.) Sometimes I get splashed with water! One time I fell into a hole!
• I’m a little bit neurotic. 

My first reaction was, “I have to quit my job.”

But then Todd verbalized some nonsense about TAKING THE BUS.

I whipped around in my chair and co-opted Henry’s method of laughing without mirth. 

“Todd,” I said firmly once I stopped stuttering from all The Shock of the news. “I can NOT take a bus.” And then I had to tell him the now-legendary* tale of when I was 18 and met some boy at the mall (actually we met over the phone when I was a telemarketer for Olan Mills, lol) who then invited me back to his apartment on the Southside but we had to take the bus, he said, and I was all agreeable with adventure in my eyes.

Until it was 3am and I didn’t know how to get home so my mom had to come and pick me up. 

*(Not legendary.)

I never took a bus again. I don’t understand the numbers and the letters and the routes. With the trolley, I have two choices: red or blue. And it’s a straight shot to where I need to go. No transfers or any such nonsense. 

My only other brush with the bus was when I was a sophomore in high school and decided I wanted to join a gang, because that’s what all rich white girls do to act out: engage in back alley knife fights and terrorize the neighborhood shop owners. (But probably mostly just serve as a penis coozy for the “real” gang members.)

I had a friend named Jeremiah who lived in The City and he said he could get me into a gang, but I would have to TAKE A BUS from my comfortable suburban sprawl because none of my friends were interested in driving me to the hood to get gang-initiated. 

“And that’s how I almost joined a gang,” I somberly wrapped up my deeply personal story. 

“Wow,” Todd said with faux-amazement. “Your life could have been so different.”

“I know right?! I’d probably have a face tattoo by now, at least,” I mused, picturing all the battle scars etched into my body like a gritty street war constellation. 

“Just make a bus friend,” Todd offered as a flimsy solution. 

Todd, I don’t MAKE FRIENDS. I break them. (….?)

I’m glad that I have two months to fucking LOSE MY MIND over this before it actually happens. I don’t know what I’ll do. I’m still leaning heavily toward quitting my job. 

I’m having a bad day. Not anything major, but the stupid trolley made me late for work this morning and my nearly 6 year streak of arriving to my job in a timely fashion is BROKEN. I texted Amber2 to let her know I was going to be late and Glenn was practically doing a jig with a bucket of confetti. He’s been waiting for this day for years and told me that he considered sending an email to the whole department to inform them I was going to be late. I WOULD HAVE DIED. Oh my god, just no. I feel so much anxiety all these hours later, just thinking about that horrific email.

Look, I was only four minutes late and Henry said it shouldn’t count since it wasn’t my fault but fuck, there was no retrieving my day from the commode after that shitty flush.  Today was fraught with a series of mistakes, pretty much everything I touched, I promptly fucked up. It honestly was like it was my first day on the job.  So because I have no idea where my head is*, and I don’t want to accidentally start typing my social security number or my secret Hare Krishna amputee milkmaid erotica, here are some dumb photos I’ve been collecting this month on my phone. I’m lucky I can even handle that right now.

*(Evidently, it’s still on the stupid trolley.)

Listen. I follow a ton of succulent accounts on Instagram because my life is that fucking vanilla now. One of them is having some idiotic giveaway which requires a person to post a picture of their succulents and I’m a sucker who wants to win a succulent or eight (SERIOUSLY, EIGHT SUCCULENTS ARE IN THE POT), so of course I entered.

I like clowns, just in case you forgot. Send them all to me. I need cheered up.

A thing I painted with my fingers on a day when I was stupid mad. Fuck painting. AND FUCK FINGERS, TOO.

A LAMP I SCORED AT GOODWILL. Henry is not as excited about it as I am. There aren’t many things that get Henry excited. This lamp would have to make a cameo in the middle of a 1980s orgy on VHS for Henry to give a fuck. Find something to get stoked on, Henry. Please. You’re bringing me down.

Our bedroom is a fucking war zone right now because we’re painting (“we’re” LOLOLOL all the way home) and basically rearranging everything, but peep Chooch’s badass onesie.

I almost have Henry sold on painting our bedroom doors gold glitter.

I’m so excited to add Bled Fest to the painting I made stupid Henry last year for Valentine’s Day, IF HE KEEPS HIS IDIOT XMAS PROMISE TO ME, THAT IS. When I get something in my head, it is ALL-CONSUMING. I honestly dream about this and watch YouTube videos from the past Bled Fests like, every day. I could probably stand to get some therapy. SOME MUSIC THERAPY. OHHHHH! #bledfestorbust

And here I am, infiltrating Chooch’s man cave.

Chooch & his golden curls are going to the store with Henry.

A video posted by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin) on Jan 6, 2016 at 4:42pm PST

The end.

P.S. Seriously. Send me clowns in the mail. Address available upon request. I will send you something back!

I was just trying to enjoy the beautiful notes of Pentimento wafting from my bedroom speakers when Chooch started watching some hideous Geocaching video in his room and then HENRY started playing something on his phone and I was like ARE YOU FUCKING IDIOTS DEAF TO THE FACT THAT I AM TRYING TO ENJOY MUSIC WHILE I AM CURLING MY HAIR IN THE BATHROOM?!

So I stormed into my bedroom and glared at Henry, all casually lounged out in bed staring at whatever pointless thing was playing on his phone, and started screaming about audacious audio takeovers and he just stared back at me because apparently this is Typical Behavior.

“You’re so bossy,” he had the nerve to say. 

“WELL I WAS HERE FIRST!” I screeched. 

“No actually, I was up here first,” he back-talked. 

“No, I mean, I was HERE first,” I reiterated, swirling my hands around to encompass the whole house. “Since 1999!”

“Oh my god, are you STILL doing that?” Henry sighed in disbelief. 

Uh, yeah. And I will continue to do so until the day we move out.

I FEEL LIKE A VOLCANO ON THE VERGE OF ERUPTING LATELY. I am so frustrated with everything! 

SOMEONE KIDNAP ME. 

OH YEAH AND I HAVE TO GO BACK TO THE EYE DOCTOR TODAY UGH. Everything is awful. 

  
Remember how sometimes I would ask you guys to submit questions for Henry and then I would force him to answer then, interview-style and he would proceed to not speak to me for several days? That was so much fun! And I want to start doing that again more regularly, maybe like twice a month, but with VIDEOS too. So like, for example, HENRY REVIEWING VARIOUS FAYGO FLAVORS. Like who wouldn’t want to see a closeup of Faygo-drops glistening on his mouth-fur?

I’m just trying to come up with some new shit to plaster on this site for 2016 because I’m getting bored, and if I’m getting bored, you’ve probably done BEEN bored. So, hopefully I will find things to freshen up this stinky dump. 

So anyway, if you have something you would like to see review or if you have some burning desire to know more about his wardrobe of nondescript cotton sheaths, fire away. 

***Henry is 100% not going to be OK with this, but you just let me worry about that. 

I’m in zombie mode—winter depression has officially sunk in. So before I go back to moping on the couch while crying to Balance & Composure, here are some custom paintings I churned out for Christmas. Grateful to be so busy!     

I’m taking a hiatus from custom paintings just for a bit so I can work on finishing some things to add to my Somnambulant shop. I’m going to try to actually sell a thing or two from it this year! Woo, 2016. 

Seriously, me all weekend, step off:  

#hateful

I was home alone on Christmas Eve, feeling slightly under the weather.  Naturally this meant I felt compelled to exercise. I went to YouTube because there was a hip hop workout I did the other day and I wanted to see if that broad had any others. When I typed in her name, even though she’s Spanish, one of the first things that came up was SUPER FUN K-POP DANCE WORKOUT.

Oh shit, hold the phone, I screamed out loud to Trudy and my succulents. This was bound to be good. Plus, I went through a heavy k-pop/j-pop phase back in 1999-2002 when I used to get numerous foreign TV channels, like ZeeTV, included in my cable package (then they switched those to premium, good one, Comcast). My favorite programming was obviously the music videos, followed closely by the soap operas. But the music videos were like soap operas in and of themselves — especially the slow jams, so depressing and full of tragedy. I kept a blank tape in the VCR so I could record my favorite videos. Sometimes I would even opt to stay home when my friends were going out to the bar, because I was in so deep.

The bars don’t play k-pop, you guys.

My all-time favorite was Lee Juno’s “Return of the King of Dance.” Years later, I found the CD on some Asian music webstore, and I was sorely disappointed when it arrived and I realized that that was the only good song on the whole disc.

OK, so back to Christmas Eve. When I saw this workout video on YouTube, I forgot all about the coughing fits I had been having all evening and immediately pressed play to be sucked into a world of shiny Korean choreography.

IT IS A GODDAMN DREAM.

And somehow, I’m actually able to do it! I am never able to do any dance-based exercise workouts. Don’t even come near me with Zumba. I will fall and break my face. But k-pop fitness? It’s like it was MADE FOR ME.

My gateway into this niche of the fitness industry was through YouTube user SarahKayPop. She puts together 35 minute compilations of various k-pop dances that are on YouTube, and she even throws in some of her own in there too, which she performs in her bedroom. Not intimate at all. But through Sarah, I found the official KpopX Fitness channel and it hasn’t just consumed me—it has carefully digested me and shit me out as a better, more Korean version of myself.  It is honestly the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning, all I talk about at work, and how I end my days — pushing the coffee table out of the way and k-popping my fat face off.

I AM SO GOOD AT IT!

And I know this will come as a huge shock, but I’m following KpopX on Instagram now and have basically imprinted with their creator, #MaddyLim.

“Who’s that?” Henry mumbled last night during my post-dance routine of continuing to scour YouTube for the next day’s lineup while Henry watches with glazed eyes from the couch.

“THAT’S #MADDYLIM, THE CREATOR OF KPOPX!” I screamed. How did he not know this by now? But then he was laughing, which means that he was just trying to piss me off, which is really stupid considering my muscles are now inflated with gangnam style and cat ears.

I don’t have a huge floppy bow yet but Henry will make me one. He hasn’t said that he will yet, but come on.

One of my favorite moves requires one to put the hands together in the shape of a heart above the head and then lean forward while furiously shuffling the feet. It probably burns at least three Jollypong bag’s worth of calories. I tried to teach this move to Glenn on Monday morning but he wouldn’t get up from his desk, saying that it was “stupid” and telling me to “stop.”

I can’t explain how it makes me feel,  but I imagine rainbows squirting out of my feet and cartoon birds fluttering out of my armpits. So at least you know how it looks. I think that I need to set up some cardboard cutouts of toadstools around the room, though. And I should probably also get a nurse costume. (One of the instructors wears one, OK?!)

The other day at work, I went to the official KpopX website and learned that I can become a certified instructor online for only $189.99! Then I tried to order one of their official shirts, but shipping to the US is not available! WHAT WHY!? So now, just like when I didn’t get a Chiodos hoodie for Xmas 2007, I’ll have to make my own I guess.

And even though I’m not certified yet, I took liberties and taught Henry how to do this exhilarating and mildly perverse routine to Psy’s pony-play inspired hit “Daddy.” He was not filled with such wow like I was, though. I guess KpopX isn’t for everyone, surprisingly.

But so far, my favorite routine is to the crowd-pleasing banger “Hot Issue” by 4 Minute. I might know the moves by heart now, is all I’m saying. That song came on the other night when I was forcing Henry to fall asleep to a k-pop Spotify playlist and I nearly flipped him out of the bed, that’s how hyper I became. IT’S THE MOTHERFUCKING JAM.

****

“You have a really addictive personality,” Amber² laughed after I gushed about KpopX on a boring Tuesday afternoon at work.

“Yeah,” Todd agreed. “You go from one thing to the next so fast! For example, you never talk about your plants anymore.”

YES I DO AND THEY’RE SUCCULENTS OK.

****

Henry came home from the store last night when I was in the middle of a “Big Bang” routine and I went ape shit on him for corrupting my zone.

“I’m sorry!” he yelled. “I didn’t think you would STILL be kpopping!” Bitch please, I was going on 75 minutes straight by then. Maybe call ahead next time.

I also really like the k-pop routines by Crazy Sock TV, in case you care.

Sorry Paul Eugene, but I’m putting a moratorium on the gospel aerobics. Jesus ain’t got shit on these k-pop bitches.

   
It occurred to me yesterday as we were in the middle of eating that this was the 10th Cemetery Xmas Picnic for us! It started in 2005, when I was pregnant with Chooch and my family was being a bag of dicks and not speaking to me. Henry and I had nowhere else to go for Xmas so I yelled LET’S JUST EAT WITH DEAD PEOPLE THEN since no one living gave a shit about us.

So that’s what we did. 

I specifically remember buying Moonpies at CoGos on the way. Really fucking festive. 

And even when we do have a place to go on Xmas, we always hit up the good old cem first. It’s definitely been met with a lot of weird reactions over the years, but it’s our norm, you know? I mean, we’re just eating sandwiches and potato salad, not roasting babies over open graves and drinking goats blood. 

Just so you know. 

We keep it clean. 

 This year, we were able to sit for more than 5 minutes without the threat of hemorrhoids or frost bite!  Except it started to drizzle a little bit. 
    
It’s funny how traditions start. I wonder if Chooch will continue it when he has his own family…

 Sorry, Chooch’s Future Wife. 
Lol. 

  
We didn’t have time to make cards this year, so you get this charming photo of Trudy and Henry’s mom Judy, who is way more welcoming of our mannequin roommate than probably my own mom would be.   

Currently, Henry is ranting about batteries and now he and Chooch are arguing over PINs because they’re trying to set up Chooch’s new TV and I’m just over here blocking it all out with Real Friends playing loudly. Also, I sarcastically was like, “Hey where’s MY present?” And Chooch defensively sputtered, “Well, DADDY—” which made Henry cry, “Yeah it’s always MY fault!”

Oh, Xmas. 

I hope everyone has a beautiful day, whether you’re participating in Christmas frivolity or this is just your average December 25th. 

Henry, Chooch, and I will salute you from our annual cemetery picnic!

Tonight I’m going to take you way back to this one time when Henry and I began dating; he was all excited because he had the day off work and wanted to hang out with me. Actually, I’m going to go ahead and recall the word “dating” from this post because it was basically just like a really long one-night stand in the beginning. He just kept calling!

Just putting this out there: Henry was WAY more into me than I was into him. I mean, I guess I liked that he was buying me Michael Myers figurines but I was still like bro, stop sweating me. Calm down. 

Seriously. 

Ok so back to Henry having the day off of work. He was looking forward to having me sass him all day, but at the last minute I decided to go to Kennywood with Janna and my pal Brian instead, but I was 22 and did whatever the fuck I wanted with complex and utter disregard for all others. Totally not like 2015 Erin at all.

Henry was basically devastated, universe crumbled, as you can imagine, getting brutally blown off by some super young chick who he actually thought he was going to domesticate (guys, he doesn’t even try anymore). He kept calling me on my Nokia cellphone (again, this was a long time ago) and was all drunk (probably off Michelob #bluecollar) and whiny, which made me so disgusted, so I quit answering. Go to bed, old man! You know? I’m sure I did a ton of eye rolling and emasculated him to pieces with my friends. For sport. 

I would never do that now.

So Henry and I are having our typical bedtime convo tonight, which always involves me talking and him falling, when I remembered this incident and said, “Can you imagine if social media was around back then? You’d be constantly refreshing Instagram, Facebook and Twitter to track my every move at Kennywood WITHOUT YOU!” And then I pantomimed him pushing his glasses up and scrolling through his phone with a sad face and wiping away invisible tears, until I was laughing so hard that I had real life salty wets to brush off my face. 

I’m sure you can imagine the look on Henry’s face before he rolled over and went back to sleep. 

*Shout out to Carly  Rae Jepsen

For most of my adult life, I’ve been struggling with the whole glasses and contacts issue. Basically, I’m just a huge cry baby about going to the eye doctor and don’t even get my started on the strict criteria I have for eye glasses. I’ve gone round and round with numerous eye doctors and then when I realized that 1-800-Contacts was suddenly allowing me to order new contacts without an updated eye exam, I was like “IN YR FACE EYE DOCTORS!”

Except that during the last batch of contacts I was wearing, I started to feel like maybe my prescription had changed. My left eye was kind of struggling, so I decided that I wouldn’t order new contacts without getting a check up first. This is what BEING AN ADULT feels like I guess. Kind of boring.

So I put in my last pair of 2-week contacts back in….September. And then I just kept putting it off and putting it off until two weeks ago when I practically stumbled into work and so that everyone knew I wasn’t actually drunk, I admitted that I was having some sight issues.

“STILL?!” Amber2 exclaimed. We’ve talked about this subject quite a few times in the past. I always say I’m going to make an appointment and then I just end up ordering new contacts instead. And Amber is also a big advocate for eye glasses and has even offered to go with me on our lunch break to look at frames. Because I’m picky, they have to be gargantuan. Like, you should be able to fit your entire legs in them and pull them on like pants. That’s how big I need them to be. Maybe even just a large square that I can hold up over my face when I need to see. (So like, forever.)

I tested other methods of ocular enhancement, such as squinting through a bottle of severed fingers. No bueno.

And surprisingly, the follicle monocle didn’t activate the ol’ 20/20 either.

Yesterday was the breaking point. We came back from our group’s holiday lunch (I closed a door on Gayle and then she got stuck in the restaurant—that was my highlight), and Amber2 caught me slumped down at my desk, engaging in my daily AM I GOING BLIND???? squint-a-thon.

“THAT’S IT! Make an appointment right now!” And thank god for her and—I can’t believe I’m typing this—Glenn, because they essentially walked me through it. Glenn especially. He’s been on board with this since last week when he was walking toward me and I thought he was a stranger because he looked so blurry so I started to sink down behind my computer so that Stranger wouldn’t ask me a question — all strangers on our floor ask me questions! Like, “Where is the bathroom?” And I’m like “Down there!” while crossing my arms and pointing. But yeah, this time it was just Glenn and he was like, “You REALLY need to get your eyes checked! Good Lord.”

So after our lunch, he was trying to guide me through the insurance process of the eye exam.

“GO TO PEOPLESOFT AND PRINT OUT YOUR INSURANCE INFO IF YOU DONT HAVE THE CARD!” he barked and I was like “Yikes! Yessir!”

And that is how I ended up with an appointment after work at a place that claims on their website that they take my insurance but apparently only certain branches in the SOUTH do???  Don’t worry, they said they’re used to this and gave me all kinds of shit to send to the insurance company for reimbursement so I guess Wendy will have to help me with that.

I need to also mention that Henry and I had a huge fight when he came to pick me up from work because traffic had him angry and he YELLED AT ME and I was like, “OH NO YOU DIDN’T JUST YELL AT ME WHEN I’M ALREADY STRESSED OUT WE ARE SO OVER!” and then after three minutes of me pouting and staring wistfully out the window, he softly said, “I’m sorry I yelled at you” and then I berated him for a little while and all was well.

Anyway, as soon as I walked in to America’s Best, I was greeted by Randall (Randolph? I couldn’t see his name tag very well, lol), a congenial older man who signed me in.

“IM FREAKING OUT!” I cried because I have no filter when I’m nervous. My anxiety levels were through the roof and I literally felt my knees buckle when I walked in.

Randall was super nice and told me I wasn’t going to die, that I probably wouldn’t even bleed, and then my exam started, which went exactly as I expected: not knowing which one was better or worse! I was getting really frustrated and then I started to cry and the doctor was like “Hey kid, your eyes are actually healthy, don’t worry” but apparently my left eye either has a slightly swollen cornea (from the contacts) or IS JUST LAZY ALL OF A SUDDEN???

because no matter which corrective lens he put in front of it, he couldn’t get me past 20/40. Nothing about me is lazy! I TAKE THE STAIRS, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!

But at least I have new contacts in now (not the ones I need, but the best they could give me until mine come in next week) and I got a lengthy lecture about getting glasses. I KNOW OK?! God. I’ll get glasses as soon as someone can put my prescription in a welder’s mask.

The moral of this story is that my coworkers are bullies.

[We’re going to blame all of my typos on my SUPPOSED LAZY EYE, now, ok?]

Today, Chooch found a temporary tattoo and was just about to put it somewhere dumb, like his arm, when I stopped him and screamed, “NO PUT IT ON YOUR NECK!” Neck tattoos are my favorites. I have been trying for fourteen years to trick Henry into getting something awesome on his neck, but he won’t budge. (Hands are my second choice, but he won’t go for that, no; no can do.) Because I’m Chooch’s “bae lord,” he happily adhered a deformed monkey to the side of his neck.

(Side note: He has now taken to calling Henry “Papa Bae,” and it is slowly killing Henry.)

Anyway, Chooch looks hardcore as fuck now! We went outside and took some pictures because Henry was in the kitchen baking some kind of healthy version of snickerdoodles, i.e. bland non-cookies, and he’s mean to us when he bakes.

It was cold out there today.

Meanwhile, Blake gave Chooch his guitar, so he is currently YouTubing tutorials and just seeing that beautiful guitar in his lap is making my vision even more obscured than usual by all of the hearts. If this kid doesn’t grow up to be in a band, then I’m doing it all wrong.

Chooch + Doll 4L.

And on that note:

I signed Henry up for my friend Alex’s Blogger Cookie Exchange sometime in October and then, true to form, waited until the last minute to find him a cookie to bake. The Internet failed me i my search for “Really Bomb Traditional Romanian Christmas Cookies” so I eventually settled on some kind of zucchini jalapeno lime thingies because some website said that they were The Best. Henry didn’t start baking them until Saturday morning and then jawed off at me from the kitchen because I suck at conveying details to him, such as how many dozen he needed to bake and by what time. Meanwhile, I sat on the couch and fought with Chooch over the TV and I somehow lost, so I just kept taking pictures of him until he finally had enough and left the room.

I ALWAYS FIND A WAY.

Never fear, Henry got all seven dozen knocked out and even had a bunch to spare, so the day ended up not being as stressful as I imagined. I mean, there was the still the social stress, don’t worry. I haven’t suddenly learned how to converse strangers.

I’m still me! So I mostly hung out with the kids and that was OK because we on that same level, yo*. It was either that or stand awkwardly with the adults, blurting out things like, “So, how about those leaked Brand New demos, huh?” or “Guys, I found the best wheelchair on Craigslist and Henry won’t buy it for meeeee!” #unrelatable One thing I have learned from failed social situations is that I am a Grade A conversation killer. So now I just keep quiet.

And funnily enough, Henry ended up winning for best cookie and he totally thinks he’s so fucking awesome now. “Do I get a ribbon to put on my blog?” he asked. LET’S NOT FORGET WHO FOUND THE RECIPE….SO.

*(Henry just tried to correct that sentence and I was like, “It’s supposed to be that way…?” and he said, “Oh sorry, I forgot that my English is not the same as your English. I guess I’m not your level.”)

Later that evening, a car pulled into the church parking lot across the street from us and Santa got out! At first, Chooch and I were really excited. But then I was like, “Why did Santa leave his car on? Parked at an angle? With the door open?” We happened to be leaving for Castle Blood at that exact time, and our car was parked RIGHT NEXT TO SANTA’S. By the time we crossed the street though, Santa was on the move, straight stalking through the parking lot with the calculated gait of a killer. He was headed straight to some lady who was getting out of her car and I started to instinctively flinch and squeeze my eyes shut, anticipating the swing of the ax that he was surely about to pull from behind his back. But instead, she was like, “Blah blah blah” and then he turned direction and started to walk toward the church.

“OH MY GOD, HE’S ABOUT TO GO ON A SPREE!” I cried to Henry as we sat in the car and watched him disappear into the darkness. “FOLLOW HIM!!”

Henry was super annoyed about this because he wanted to drive the opposite way, but I made him drive through the back of the parking lot as I scanned the area for Scary Santa. The door of the church’s basement/cafeteria was open and full of people in matching t-shirts.

“They’re having a PARTY, Erin. Santa’s here for a fucking PARTY,” Henry sighed. I caught a glimpse of Santa inside the cafeteria, mingling with the guests.

THEN WHY DID HE LEAVE HIS CAR RUNNING!? The whole scene was confusing and shady as fuck. But I didn’t have time to stick around and sleuth it out because we were on our way to pick up Corey and go to Castle Blood for their annual Cryptmas tour!

I love that Castle Blood comes up with several non-Halloween tours throughout the year. For Christmas, the denizens decorate their rooms to reflect their own personal visions of Christmas, or “Cryptmas.” It might be a no-scare tour, but it’s still fun as fuck, and I know I say this after every visit, but I think this one is my new favorite! It’s been a long time since I’ve been there with Corey too, so I think that definitely made it more fun. He was having mild panic when we were in line because of the anticipation of crowd participation. I’m usually cowering behind a tall person in these situations too, but there is something about Castle Blood that brings out the Old “Ooooh, Me! Pick Me!” Erin. Too bad I have competition now: effing CHOOCH. He is such a Castle Blood attention hog!

Castle Blood was amaze as usual. My favorite parts were:

• When Chooch was instructed to write if he’d been naughty or nice and we were like “why is he writing so  many letters….?” and it was because he wrote “Naughty, because I’m Satan.”
• In Gravely’s office, when I was told to pick someone from our group and give them a Christmas wish, I chose Henry and angrily spat, “I wish that you get an engagement ring from Santa so that you can put it on my finger.” That didn’t make anyone uncomfortable or anything.
• Seeing my favorite vampire butler, Shard! I love him because he shoots down all of Chooch’s attempts at being a smart ass, haha. I had been referring to him as my Castle Blood boyfriend but then my friend Professor Scrye told me that I might want to wait until September and I was like, “Durr?” followed very quickly by an, “Oh my god.”
• The gypsy room where I was The Best at deciphering all 10 Christmas songs that had been Jeopardized. Chooch claims he got two of them on his own and I was like, “Look, Imma let you think that until we get in the car because I don’t want you causing a scene, but everyone knows I’m the true winner.”
• When I got to decide if Henry could have a cookie and I said NO.
• When Chooch was asked to explain what Christmas is to a confused denizen, and he immediately answered, “When my brother Jesus was born.”
• When I excelled at REALLY HARD QUESTIONS that required the use of LOGICAL THINKING in the room that I don’t know what to call.
• Failing at passing a Christmas ornament down the line 8 times using plastic spoons held in our left hands.
• GETTING TO SEE MY FRIEND DAWN EVEN THOUGH IT WASN’T HER REAL FACE!!

I love you, Castle Blood. Never stop.

Afterward, we went to Eat n Park in Monongahela where Chooch and Corey talked about Vine pretty much the whole time and at first we thought our waitress was legit because she didn’t need to write down our drink order but then she had to write down our food order so Corey was like, “Never mind, she’s not all that.” What a disappointment. Corey and Chooch were going to try and film an on-the-fly Vine in the parking lot while Henry was paying but Corey got all stressed out about it. “What if we make Henry drive through that Do Not Enter for a Vine, never mind, THAT’S STUPID, UGH.” Then they were kicking themselves because Chooch said at the end of Castle Blood, when Hexibart blindfolded him, he was going to say, “Bitch, where?” which is apparently a popular Vine theme? And Corey was like, “WHHHHHYYYY DIDN’T YOU?!?!?!?! WE COULD HAVE VINED THAT!!!!!”

And then some Vine-famous guy was sending Corey messages and he was straight squealing about it, which was making Henry question what he’d done in a past life to land him there at that Eat n’ Park in 2015, listening to Corey get flustered about Viners and me talking about haunted house crushes and Warped Tour.

On Sunday, Chooch had a date with his twin friends, Sophia and Olivia, so Henry and I went Christmas shopping, which I loathe. However, we saw my aunt Susie at Target so that was cool. This was after my morning sob-fest and I had that “just finished crying” spontaneous sniveling going on so I felt like a freak, but I also didn’t want to casually blurt out, “JUST CRYING OVER MY CAT WHO DIED LAST MARCH, NOTHING UNUSUAL GOING ON OVER HERE.” Ugh, I’m such a freak and I hate myself sometimes.

Since I had the Sunday Sads, I bought some new succulents. That always cheers me up for a quick minute. Actually, we stopped at Home Depot because Henry had to get something boring, so I picked up a succulent (actually, it was a tillandsia, no big deal) for my Secret Santa recipient. I was like, “One for her, four for me.

” Because that’s how selfish Leos buy presents.

The other highlight was that Hot Topic was one of our stops and if there is one place in this world that serves as an self-esteem boost station for me, it is fucking Hot Topic. I pretty much immediately bonded with the pastel-purple haired employee. It started with her showing me the Five Nights at Freddy’s bullshit but within a minute we were trading favorite moments from last year’s Warped Tour. Henry was like “Girl, bye” and walked away. And then when I had to give her my email address when checking out, she laughed knowingly and said, “Great email address!” BECAUSE IT’S “BUTGAVINCANTDANCE” you guys. Only Hot Topic employees ever get that, which is why Henry always walks away before I say it because he thinks it’s so stupid how excited I get when I’m complimented on it.

Later that day, I found the tree skirt, so now Trudy looks complete.

Henry was too exhausted after making separate dinners for me and Chooch, so all he could muster for himself was toast and a pretzel, lolforever.

Capped off the weekend with a riveting show about Satanists on CNN, thanks to Barb for the heads up.

I mean, I’m not a Satanist but I realized after watching it that I can really get behind a lot of their ideologies, especially after I found out that they don’t actually do any animal sacrifices.  It didn’t even occur to me at first that Chooch was sprawled out on our Baphomet rug, watching a show about an organized group of people getting ready to unveil their Baphomet statue.

There was one part where a bunch of Christian protesters were being interviewed and one man said, “They shouldn’t be allowed to practice their religion in public. They need to keep this in their basement” or something to that effect and I whipped my head over to Henry and just as my big mouth was opening to purge the obscenities from my system, he cut me off by saying, “I know, Erin. I know.”

Meanwhile, Barb was disappointed in the show. Not enough virgin sacrifices, Barb?

I might need to move to Detroit, is all I’m saying.

Realizing that probably a whole hour had passed without me bragging about something, I spun around in my seat and smugly announced, “I got invited to the Castle Blood cast holiday party, and I’m not even a cast member, NO BIG DEAL.”

“What’s that?” Todd asked in a mildly disinterested tone. He’s been trying to work on that though, I feel like. 

“Oh come ON, Todd!” I cried exasperatedly, as if I have never talked about CASTLE BLOOD before. “It’s that haunted house I go to all the time!”

“Look, you got too many things in your life, OK. I try to keep up with all of the bands, and then you go and throw a wrench in it with this haunted house now.” Todd sounded defensive, and Amber² was laughing at her desk.

“I wish Henry could hear this,” she said.

SORRY THAT I TRY TO LET MY CO-WORKERS INTO MY FABULOUS LIFE.

God.

Glenn was gone for the day when I made my announcement, which is why there isn’t a single derisive sentence up in there. 

I found this old Pentax photo that I took of Chooch when he was like one and a half (I was never into counting by months after he turned one). It makes me kind of want to use the Pentax again even though there are a million apps out there that basically achieved the same effect nowadays. Technology is kind of a drag sometimes. 

 Blog update: it’s half-fixed! I still can’t upload photos from my phone and at this point I’m kind of just over it. Blogging is kind of a drag sometimes. 

Also, Chooch titled this post. Titling posts is kind of a drag sometimes. 

I’m kind of a drag sometimes. 

GUYS! Chooch and I are taking our Carly Rae Jepsen obsession public — WE’RE GOING TO SEE HER AT MR. SMALL’S IN MARCH!!!! 

HENRY JUST CAME HOME (sorry, I’ll try to abstain from CAPSLOCKING at your face) and smirked at me because I’m sitting here under a blanket watching CRJ YOUTUBE VIDEOS ON TV AND CRYING HAPPILY.

(For real this time, CAPSLOCKS off.)

I just asked him if he’s going with us and he said NO in a tone that implied WHAT A DUMB QUESTION. 

Chooch and I are trying to get Corey to go with us OMFGGG I might have a heart attack. 

In other news, Henry still hasn’t fixed the photo-uploading problem on my blog and I’m too distracted to care.