I came across this idiot photo of myself from a Girl Scout field trip to Triple B Farms in 1987 and that fucking bow on my dome made me laugh because basically I was a style icon to 2000’s-era scene girls everywhere. I always wore those puffy, cushiony bows back then like it was a compulsion. My mom bought them at Children’s Place and Kids R Us. It definitely brought to mind all the scene queens we used to see specifically at Chiodos shows, just a fucking sea of pastel-haired Minnie Mouse-bowed waifs flitted about on wafts of their own ennui, waiting for a chance to bat their fake gooey eyelashes at Craig Owens.   

For old time’s sake, I googled “scene girl at Chiodos show” and then laughed because the second thing that came up was a link to my blog.    God, did I have my finger on the comb-over fringe-haired pulse back then or what.  

Welcome to Oh Honestly Erin, not spell-checked since 2008.   

Then I did an image search and saw that Blake and Robbie, Henry’s sons, are in the first few pictures, so I was like “haha oh shit” and texted a screenshot to Henry, who replied with, “Yeah, keep scrolling down. Thanks, Erin.”    

 HILAR. Henrietta, the ultimate scene queen. 

Of course I ran right to Facebook with this because that’s just what I do: stroke my succulents, fuck grammar in the ass, and emasculate Henry on social media. Robbie commented on it with a succinct “haha” to which Henry replied, “Don’t laugh to [sic] hard. Your picture comes up also.”

Yeah but at least there’s an actual girl in the picture with Robbie.

Henry can try to fight it all he wants but he IS A PART OF THE SCENE. 

As a Friday night bonus, here is a picture of him frowning at his first Chiodos show in 2008.     

GOODNIGHT, GANG. 
  
 
 

As if you don’t know by now what Henry looks like at his most irritated and put-upon, here are a series of Henry bombs (I lied—some are straight-on shots that he knew about and was probably saying STOP as I was taking them). I haven’t done a Henry Bombs post in awhile because like everything else in my life, I lost interest.   

The “Day One, Band One, WTF am I Watching Right Now?” shot. This was during Into It. Over It. I thought they were lovely. Henry thought, well, his face says it all. 
  

The “Maybe If I Look For Ted Nugent on the Band Lineup For The 3rd Time, He’ll Show Up” shot. 

The “Professionally Giving Some French Broad Directions In The Fancy Econo Lodge Parking Lot & Then Spent the Rest of the Day Imagining Her French Kissing Me As Payment” shot. 

   
 The “I’ve Had A Lot Of Beers, Can’t Maintain The Frown, Whatever Band This Is Sucks But I Can’t Get My Face To Reflect That Sentiment! FROWWWWWN COMMMMMME BAAAAACK!” shot. 

The “Just Chillin’ With The Homie Yelawolf; He Probably Hates Manchester Orchestra, Too” shot. 
  

The “When Manchester Orchestra Is So Boring, I Make Origami With My Empty Beer Cup & That’s When I Know It’s Time For Another” shot. 

The “Hey I’m Gonna Get Another Beer Before I Finish This One So I Can Doublefist My Way To Oblivion While You Watch This Shitty Band That Sounds Like That Last Shitty Band On That Other Stage We Just Walked A Mile From & Then Maybe I’ll Buy a Beanie From the Stheart Booth So That I’ll Look More Like One Of Those Post Hardcore Boys You Like So Much” shot. 
  

The “Calculating How Much Beer Money Will I Have Left If I Pay Someone From the Hellzapoppin’ Circus to Set My Ears On Fire So I Don’t Have To Listen To Snoop Dogg Tonight” shot. 

The “Quick Gimme a Mirror, ‘Bloody Nugent, Bloody Nugent, Bloody Nugent'” shot. 
  

The “Nope, Nothing Sounds Better While Sitting” shot. 

The “Having My Head Adjusted After Going Hard In the Thrice Pit; Just Kidding, It’s Only My Afternoon Grooming” shot. 
 

The “Do We Really Need To Stand So Close For Every Time I Die? I Feel Very Unsafe” shot. 

  The “I Bet If I Had a Car This Bitchin’ IRL, I Could Bag a Woman More My Speed, Someone Who’d Be Content With Watching a Cheap Trick Cover Band At The Corner Bar Once a Year” shot. 

The “Thinking Of All the NCIS Marathoning I Could Be Doing This Weekend, But Instead I Had To Put On Pants Just to Have My Ears and Wallet Violated” shot. 

The “Shoulda Stayed in THE SERVICE” shot. 

The “I Hope She Spills That Fucking Coffee, McDonald’s-style” shot. 

The “FIRST IN LINE FOR MORNING BEER!!!!” shot. 
 The “Oh Ho, We’re Not Friends, Please Find A New Boyfriend Before We Go Home Today—Wait, WE STILL HAVE ANOTHER DAY?!” shot. 

Well, we just went to get breakfast at the FANTASTIC Econo Lodge ($69 a night, friends!) only to see some girl in her early 20s, wearing unstrapped overalls and a tube top thing (are we still calling them tube tops in 2015, or has Urban Outfitters given them a more hipster-approved title? Like Uberband? Post-tube? Totesbandeau? Rackshizz? Lena Dunham’s Boob Thong?), standing near the food with some older lady who was saying, “This is not right, this is a food area” and then the girl said, “I need help” and the lady said, “THEN I WILL CALL THE POLICE” and I noticed the younger girl was holding a clump of hair and looked like she was probably high on meth.

I mumbled, “Oh. Nope,” and Henry and I spun on our heels in tandem and came back to the room.

That being said, IT’S LIVEBLOGGING TIME. Just a warning: my phone LOVES to autocorrect my blog posts when I’m not looking so I can’t be held responsible for any ludicrous typos. Just the normal ones. You know how bad I am at GRAMMAR. (Seriously. I forgot the “at” in that last sentence at first. I am so good.)

8:00am: Henry just came back in from taking HIS stuff (and not mine?!) out to the car and said now the girl is sitting out there, eating a muffin, and all of her stuff is in garbage bags.

8:05am: We just checked out and that girl was sitting in the lobby going round and round with the front desk clerk, who I think now might be her SISTER?! She was like DONT WALK AWAY FROM ME! and the older lady was like I HAVE CUSTOMERS! (OMG me and Henry are now a part of this story because WE WERE THE CUSTOMERS so now, years from now, when they tell this story around the fire on Christmas Eve, when they get to the CUSTOMERS part, I hope they describe me as “That young Jennifer Anoston-looking sweetheart” and Henry will probably be “and her old, grizzled captor.”

That girl totally lives there though.

8:41am: We’re on the road now and I’m nostalgically playing Riot Fest music for Henry who is unenthused and just yelled at me for not helping him get change for the toll booth, to which I countered, “Yeah well, I don’t have my sunglasses!” (?) Henry said, “That’s not my fault. I can’t be in charge of your sunglasses when I’m already in chafe of everything else. Like, your tampons.” Haha it’s true.

But really: Alexisonfire and Beach Slang up in here right now.

9:36am: Henry just flipped out because the toll booth lane we were in had a malfunctioning ticket thing and he pulled over and left me in the car (DANGEROUS) so he could be a good professional driver by skipping off to the highway office thing and reporting the broken machine. Also, because he needed to get a ticket, I guess. He just came back to the car and exhaled deeply, like he’s so winded from being a turnpike kiss ass.

10:13am: Welp. Just took a detour to LaPorte, Indiana’s historical society because they have the wheelbarrow that a mass husband killer used to cart away their bodies. But…they’re closed on Mondays. Henry just threw a royal bitch fit as I quietly whispered “sorry” and then proceeded to crack up. But hey, LaPorte is kind of pretty, isn’t it Henry? Kind of? No?

 LAPORTE, represent.

10:46am: twenty minutes into Set Your Goals, Henry casually asked, “Is this the little guy and the big guy?” AW HE REMEMBERED! And the big guy was actually just regular-sized, but the little guy was so little that he made the other guy look big. I forgot how much I loved this band! I went nuts over them during the summer of 2009 and made Alisha go to their sold out show at Mr.Small’s on my birthday. It was a total sausage party and some fat guy shook his sweat all over Alisha and she did that thing where she tries to murder me with her Fairuza Balk eyes.

11:52am: PS I think we crossed the time change line thing.

12:13pm: At a rest stop near South Bend and a bunch of Riot Fest travelers were there too and now I feel homesick for Douglas Park. (THAT IS WHERE RIOT FEST WAS, OK?!)

12:43pm: I just had a huge epiphany.   I was just telling Henry stories from when I had to take Home Ec in middle school, and how much of a disaster I was. “I’m not surprised,” he mumbled. It was because we were talking about buying a sewing machine for a project we want to do (“we” lol) and it made me think about when I had to make these boxer-type shorts and mine should have been so cute because I had CANDY CORN fabric but instead they just came out looking wrecked. As I was telling Henry this story, I was overcome with a sense of doom and these repressed memories of home ec misery came flooding back to me. I forgot how much I disliked the teacher and how panicked she made me feel, especially during the cooking portions of the classes. I would get sick to my stomach on home ec days. Is it any wonder I rejected domesticity?!

1:55pm: just left the Four Season family restaurant in Montpelier, Ohio and I was so happy to finally sit down for a meal after three days of eating while standing in the middle of thousands of people. Henry ordered lemon rice soup because the hipsters on Yelp told him to. He said it was great but it was made with chicken broth so I couldn’t form my own opinion on this matter.

 I ordered the Four Seasons omelette which was basically a Greek omelette and HUGE — I was so excited until I took a gigantic bite because I’m so fat and IT WAS LOADED WITH CHICKEN. I don’t know how I missed that on the menu. Luckily the pieces were giant and easily pick-outtable. I could only eat about a third anyway and then Papa Pig swooped in and ate the rest. I messaged a picture to Chooch and he was like “haha figures.” Now Henry is ranting about how he’s fat because Chooch and I never finish our food and apparently we hold a gun to his head and force him to eat it for us.

Meanwhile, I paid 50 cents for a copy of Frank Talk to read at the table so I wouldn’t have to talk to Henry. My new life goal is to get something printed in a future issue.  

WHAT IF HENRY AND I HAD OUR OWN MAGAZINE? Wait….I guess that’s just my blog. Maybe I should start charging for subscriptions! Jim & Pat seem to have a real racket going on.

(Just kidding-I’d never charge anyone to read my typo-laden bullshit!)

3:24pm: IM BACK. I was getting car sick SUE ME. I spent the last hour regaling Henry with stories of Erin the Yo Girl because seeing SNOOP DOGG last night really reactivated that dormant gene. I was telling him about seeing Bone and Biggie back in the day and he’s sneering at me in a way that makes me feel like he’s maybe relieved he didn’t know me then. Especially when I got to the part about lining my lips and wearing almost-brown lipstick. That’s how we did it back in the mid-90s OK?!

4:26pm: You know I’m in a hurry to get home to Chooch when I eschew the Roadside America temptation. CHOOCH I MISS YOUUUUUU. We’ve been messaging and video-chatting via Facebook all weekend so that’s been super helpful. We’re never away from each other for more than a day because we’re REALLY ATTACHED TO EACH OTHER OK. Also I just pretended to shoot Henry in the face at the end of Mr. Bill Collector and he was not pleased. YOUR RENT’S DUE MOTHERFUCKER.

5:12pm: Chooch just facetimed me and I got to watch him eating pierogies so there’s that.

6:40pm: Well, Most Boring Liveblog Ever, I’m about to be home in 5 minutes! Would have updated more but my WordPress app is lagging big time and all I have been doing anyway is talking with Henry about music for 8 hours and you guys don’t care about that shit. HENRY sure doesnt! KBYE!

****

EDITED TO ADD: So on the way home, Henry was like ” I dunno why you keep whining about missing Chooch because you know you guys will be fighting within 2 minutes, so….”

Came home and Chooch came prancing across the street to meet us in the parking lot (yes, he looked both ways—Henry taught him how to cross the street unjackassedly) and after hugging each other and squealing, we immediately started arguing about whether it was a stick or dog poop that Chooch nearly stepped on in the grass.

“Thirty seconds,” Henry mumbled.

Seriously though it was fossilized poop!

(OMFG I missed Chooch so much. He was so excited to see us and even gave us weird nose nuzzles before he went to bed, what the fuck world am I even in anymore?)

    On our way back to the hotel after a beautiful, chill first day of Riot Fest. The weather was awful when we were waiting in line (of course the gates didn’t open until 90 minutes after they were supposed to) but it was gorgeous for the rest of the day. No repeats of last year!

The drive to Chicago was super uneventful. We left after work yesterday and drove as far as South Bend, IN and crashed at the Waterford, which is my favorite hotel in South Bend. (Also the only one I’ve ever stayed at, but Henry was going to book a different hotel and I flipped out because WATERFORD.) Got to Chicago around 9:30 and then Bobby from Lyft carted our asses to Douglas Park. So many beautiful bands were seen today. 

Here’s a picture of Henry giving some French Canadian broad directions in a city he doesn’t even live in. Professional driver 4 lyfe.  
I’m really looking forward to taking my boots off and hounding Henry about what parts of today were his favorite. I feel so heart-eyed right now. 

Not even the dump Henry has us staying in can ruin that. (But it comes close. Hilariously, Golden Girls is on right now and Rose, talking about Miles, just said, “He’s not just frugal, he’s frickenfrugal! What, it’s a Scandinavian term.” #apropos.)

You can’t go anywhere in my house without Robert Smith creeping.

TGIF, for real. Looking forward to a super short week next week because RIOT FEST. The food vendors were announced the other day and I am almost as excited for that as I am for the bands. Dark Matter coffee is there again and I’m really excited to drink so much of their magicical brew that it starts pouring out of my eyes.

Let’s cap this off with a Cure video. We’ll go with “More Than This” because it’s been a minute since I’ve cried to this one. Robert, you can creep on me ANYTIME.

We had to stop at Henry’s work (near the pet store where his pregnant mistress works) for a few minutes. Chooch wanted me to take pictures of him hanging off the parked train on the tracks by the river and I went along with it because I had nothing better to do. 

Chooch has a ridiculous amount of band shirts for a kid his age. My hope is that it will be a conversation starter with the other homogenous kids in his school and possibly spark interest and awareness that music exists outside of the radio. TEACH ‘EM WHILE THEY’RE YOUNG. But when I asked Chooch if anyone asked him about his Bring Me The Horizon shirt, he was like pfffffffft.
   
 

Sooooooo serious. 

In other news, we are definitely having a pie party next month and my friends are way more excited for this than I expected–and that’s made me even more excited! I have been spending all of my free time scouring for the perfect pie(s) for Henry to bake. You will be seeing a lot more of this subject over the next month, and for that I offer my advanced apologies. 

PIE. 

 
Today was Chooch’s first day of fourth grade and I’m trying to ask him how it was, and you’d think I was torturing him. The thing I remember most vividly about when I was in 4th grade was that there were so many “bad seeds” in my class that we forced our teacher into early retirement. Not sure how factual that is, considering my mom was the one who told me that. 

Anyway, here is what I learned about Mr. Sunshine’s first day of 4th grade:

Fourth grade is cool. He likes it. Josh isn’t in my class and that’s good. (Josh is a bully & those two constantly have to be separated, plus his mom screamed in my face so they can both suck it.) Lunch was terrible because it’s a school lunch.  He sat with David, a kid that left and then came back, apparently. 

The principal said “I like your hair.” He doesn’t have hair so Chooch didn’t say it back. 

He walked to school with DiMaggio. 

Cassie didn’t talk to him at all and he’s acting like he doesn’t care and maybe he doesn’t, because he does have twin girlfriends now after all. 

He didn’t see the HOT GYM TEACHER all day and then Henry said he’s not here this year, and I freaked out but then he said he was just kidding. Thank god. Hot Gym Teacher is literally the only reason I bother attending school concerts and Halloween parades. 

Chooch has nothing else to say and we’re ALL IN A BAD MOOD apparently UGH!!! MONDAY!

The downtown Pittsburgh Macy’s is closing and there has been a real bonanza of liquidation sales going on. People at work have been all excited about it, telling me about how you can get linens and other house-y things for next to nothing, and then laughing at themselves when they remember that I’m not the household member responsible for purchasing such things.

However, it occurred to me last weekend that there are a ton of mannequins there, and what will become of them? So I set a reminder on my phone to ask Glenn first thing Monday morning, because Glenn used to work at Macy’s (WITH TERRY!). 

This is how it went: 

Me: Glenn, how was your vacation ok but seriously, do you still have connections at Macy’s?

Glenn: ……

Me: Because I need to know if there are mannequins and if so, can I have one.

Glenn: Why don’t you just ask Terry?

Because Terry still works there sometimes! Great idea!

So that went like this:

Me, popping up in Terry’s office doorway: Terry, serious non-work-related question!

Terry, not looking up from his computer: What’s up, Erin?

Me: IS MACY’S SELLING THEIR MANNEQUINS?

Terry: Yeah, everything is for sale. 

Me: HOW MUCH ARE THEY?

Terry: I don’t know. There are all kinds, old, new, you’d have to go look. They’re all on the third floor. 

So then this is how my conversation with Henry went:

Me: WE HAVE TO GO TO MACY’S THIS WEEKEND. 

Henry: For?

Me: MANNEQUINS. TERRY SAID!

Henry: Oh for fuck’s sake. 

And then after finally getting Henry to dejectedly agree to Mission: Mannequin, I had this conversation with Chooch. 

Me: WAKE UP WE HAVE TO GO DOWNTOWN. 

Chooch, murmuring: For what?

Me: A mannequin. 

Chooch: OH COME ON!!!

 And this is how I ended up on the third floor of Macy’s, stepping over a jumble of enough Art Deco furniture and framed stock pictures to decorate a 1980s porno set, ready to elbow some douchebag in the ribs when he held his gaze just a tad too long on the mannequin that I had already claimed but was waiting for Henry to come back with some Macy’s broad who had no shits left to give about answering mannequin questions. 
  
But I got my fucking mannequin! Henry lugged it over to the service desk and paid for it with much unhappiness. 

“Do you want a cart for that?” a nice man asked as we began our journey out of Macy’s and back to the car as a four-piece family. 

“No I’m good,” Henry sighed with his penis between his legs, and then, this is my favorite part, nearly whacked the man in the face with Mannequin’s sassily extended arm. 

Luckily for Henry’s modesty, we parked in a garage that is very close to Macy’s, so there wasn’t much public ground to cover while transporting the mannequin back to the car. Not that anyone would have given us a second glance—it’s downtown Pittsburgh. People lug around all kinds of weird shit down there. 

There were two old women waiting in the parking garage as the elevator door opened to spill us out on the second level. 

“Oh my!” one of them laughed. “All I saw was that hand first!” as Henry stepped out behind the mannequin. We all had a good laugh, and Chooch was all, “what happened? What did she say?!” Because God forbid he’s not included in something. 

When we came home, Hot Naybor Chris was in the driveway. He asked us what we were up to. Henry said, “Not much” and I cried, “We went to Macy’s and bought a mannequin!”

HNC thought about this for a moment. “OK. Cool!” he responded, determining that this wasn’t the weirdest thing he’s seen us bring into our house over the last 10 years. 

Anyway, I’m just so excited to finally be able to have the Christmas tree I’ve been dreaming about since I was a teenager! I feel like I chose the right one. Something about her really speaks to me and I just can’t wait to paint her all glittery and then strangle her with garland. 

Last week, we were on our way home from getting ice cream, what a wonderful, wholesome, all-American family outing. At a red light on Rt. 65, I looked out the window and noticed we were idling next to a large pet store.
Chooch and I naturally started hounding Henry to turn into the lot, because we waned to splay our hands all over the fur, but Henry got really shady, and I mean ultra uneasy about our desire to stop at some local riverfront establishment to ogle the living wares. Now maybe a normal person would suggest this was because Henry was worried that we would try to bring home a Richard Gere-certified gerbil or some dumb beta fish; maybe you might assume that Henry was tired of being out and about and just wanted to go home and take his pants off; perhaps you think he saw his SERVICE porn dealer’s car in the lot. Or could be he was just tired of letting his two dependents constantly get their way. I hate when he utilizes his right to say no.

And these are all reasonable theories, I guess.

But I immediately cried, “Oh my god! It’s because you impregnated some broad in there, didn’t you?!”

Chooch joined in from the backseat.

Hypothesis for two, please!

“How far along is she?” I asked with faux-sincerity.

Henry was really agitated by now and when the light turned green, he floored it.

“You know, this place isn’t too far from where you work, so it’s plausible,” I rationalized, inspiring more flimsy arguments from Henry’s imaginary defense team.

+++++++++

Last night, Henry and I were on our way home from the Howard Jones concert at Hartwood Acres, when we drove past a pet store that’s for sale.

“Ooooh! Maybe the place where your pregnant mistress works put it out of business!”

“Yeah, speaking of that. Chooch almost told my mom about that but I stopped him in time, thank god,” Henry sighed.

“Why do you care if he tells her if it’s supposedly FALSE?!” I yelled, excited to put him on the spot again.

“ITS NOT TRUE!” Henry yelled. “I don’t want him telling her that because I didn’t feel like explaining to her why you were even talking about that in the first place,” he said in exasperation as I ate the last of the peanut butter cookie I was supposed to be sharing with him but yeah right.

Hmm. If he wasn’t guilty of knocking up some pet store clerk, then why is he trying to keep the story from his mom?!

How does that saying go? If it looks like a pet store clerk impregnator and walks like a pet store clerk impregnator, then Henry’s got a ho that probably smells like soiled newspaper and fish food?

YEAH. Something like that.

(I wrote this in bed and fell asleep a few times, so I’m sure it’s a great read!)

Henry declared that he wanted ice cream yesterday afternoon, and you know how it is around here: whatever Henry wants, Henry gets. Let’s all jump for Prince Henry.

Chooch came inside after playing with the neighborhood brats and Henry told him we were going to get ice cream. Chooch’s reaction was what you’d expect from a child who was just told to put on a starchy suit, it’s time to go to a three-hour mass.

Seriously. He threw his head back and wailed, “WHYYYY??! I don’t WANT ice cream!!” We just sat there in stunned silence.

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN FEED MY LUNCH AND NOW YOU’RE FORCING ME TO EAT ICE CREAM?!” Chooch wailed in anguish. I couldn’t even believe we were having this argument. Is this real life.

Henry explained to me that Chooch was hungry, and that this is exactly how I act too, when I’m hungry, which is a huge lie. So after we dragged Chooch out of the house as he screamed some more about how there’s nothing to eat because Henry doesn’t buy food and we’re so poor, I yelled, “FOR CHRIST’S SAKE JUST TAKE HIM TO MCDONALDS SO HE WILL SHUT HIS DUMB MOUTH!”

UGH.

So that happened.

And then after Chooch’s hunger was quelled, Henry started to pull out of the McDonald’s parking lot and I asked him some question that I don’t remember now but I’m sure it was really important and urgent so probably what’s happening here is that I’m having another PTSD blackout, and I didn’t like the tone Henry used when he answered me, so then that started another fight and Henry was like “YOU TWO ARE ASSHOLES AND WE’RE GOING HOME.”

But then he kept driving because going home “to teach us a lesson” was really only going to hurt Henry.

You would think that we would have a favorite ice cream shop that we frequent, but the truth is, part of the fun/battle is scouring Yelp for somewhere new to try. Henry found a place about 25-30 minutes away called Punk’s and I was just happy that someone else picked a place for once.

On the way there, I looked it up and saw that my Mortal Yelp Enemy was the FIRST REVIEWER for Punk’s and then I read this portion of his review and raged:

Henry hates him too so I read it out loud and then Henry and I put aside our current hate for each other and focused on mutually hating Yelp Enemy instead. Seriously, go fuck yourself beneath a deep indigo sky with a nut-armored ball, you asshole. Get the fuck out of here.

AHEM. By the time we arrived at Punk’s, we were all kind of on good terms again and even managed to order our ice cream without too much mishap. Chooch was still being weird about not wanting ice cream, so we told him not to order anything then, but he wound up ordering a vanilla milkshake like he was choosing his method of execution and then fled.

I don’t think he’s ever ordered a vanilla milkshake before.

Henry got a Scooter Sundae and acted all smug about it for some reason, but no one really gave a shit.

Nice stance.

The girl working that day was really nice, like an ice cream shop person should be. She didn’t make me feel rushed or dumb for asking questions, which sometimes happens when I go to get ice cream, OK?! And then I panic and get something plain and boring and cry about it later because it totally wasn’t what I wanted but that dumb bitch made me feel pressured to give her my final answer! I mean, that doesn’t happen often or anything.

So I got the soft serve flavors of the day in a twist: caramel and strawberry, which sounds like an odd pairing but I’m here to tell you that it worked. Just like our volatile family dynamics.

Remember back when Amber² was about to have a baby at any given moment and we got a temp up in here to ensure that our little group didn’t quit/perish/Donner Party each other while she was out on maternity leave? Allison turned out to be a godsend. She was such a quick learner and eager to work and, most importantly, liked me the best out of everyone. (I mean, DUH.)

Our department tried so hard to keep her, but it didn’t happen. ;(

This is what I felt like the day she told me her assignment was up in two weeks, the day after my dumb birthday:

(I am obviously both Artax and Atreyu in this scenario.)

Even worse? I was on vacation for her entire last week so I didn’t get to pantomime my thoroughly awkward and uncomfortable, however appropriately-timed, farewell. Instead, I had to do it a week early and it looked like I was just being really weird. Like, “Wow. Erin is going to REALLY miss Allison this weekend.” But then it would probably get shrugged off like everything does involving me.

I was going to buy a card but then I was like, “Wait. Der. I make greeting cards for a living.”

(NOT REALLY. I don’t make enough cards to live.) 

So I made her a law firm-y card and glued Glenn versions of our little group within the department:

Obviously, there’s me (FIRST!) with my Cure shirt, crying a bucket of tears. Then we have Amber2 and her baby (WHICH GOT US ALL INTO THIS MESS OF HAVING TO SAY GOODBYE IN THE FIRST PLACE!), Amber1 and her NKOTB shirt! (I had to explain to Glenn what that stood for. What a Lame.) Todd, who does this thing here at work called LINKING (you wouldn’t understand: j/k — I don’t understand) and ALWAYS gets Qdoba for lunch, Dumb Glenn, and GAYLE with her HANKIE. Maybe she should embroider my BIRTHDATE into it so she won’t FORGET it again.

(Did you know Gayle forgot my birthday? Don’t worry—we’ve already had words. I’m almost done being gravely insulted.)

(Although, bringing me a chocolate-covered apple couldn’t hurt.)

Anyway, it was disorienting coming back from vacation and seeing all her stuff gone, BUT I’m happy to report that she is moving on to better things. She better not forget me though!

I will end this with a picture from the one day in April when Allison was still super new and we had cake to rejoice Amber2’s impending due date because I’m in the background looking happy and I’ll tell you why: it was because this was the day Allison thought I was REALLY YOUNG. God what a great day that was.

That was also the day I determined Allison was my new work BFF, much to Wendy’s chagrin.

Also, I cat-faced Amber because it’s like 1 in the morning and I’m not sure she’d appreciate a text from her weird co-worker asking if it would be OK to post her face on my blog.

Also #2: I don’t even know who took this picture.

I saved it from our department page-thing awhile back because my stance was funny.

Hi, So yesterday 8/10/15 some 15 year old girl stole my bike. Thank god Hot Naybor Chris spotted her and called the cops or if he didn’t I woulda never got it back. I wished the chain came off because it always does and you cant ride when it happens. 

She got all the way to Potomac but then she got busted by the cops. Her mom was there to teach here a lesson. Chris got to go in the Police Car to Indentify the girl. It was like 1:30 at night and Grandma just closed the door because Chris just got home from Erie. Grandma got scared because she thought it was an intruder so she slammed the door. And right after that the girl stole da bike. (Mommy made me write this but I did it secretly while she was upstairs) So yeah ROFL. I was watching youtube and all of a sudden I hear knocking at the door and grandma said “Who is it?” and they said “THE POLICE.” I was excited and sad at the same time. Excited because I would get to tell my teacher that my bike got stolen when she asks how my summer was.  I went to get Pa and he said what happened and did nothing and then went back to bed. 

The girl told the cops and probably Chris too that when she was 8 she got her bike stolen and apparently that made it ok. 

It was scary. When the cop went somewhere Me, Chris, and grandma were sitting on the porch while Chris drank beer. It was so boring cause I didn’t get to see the girl even though IT WAS MY BIKE!!! Ma was sleeping so I didn’t tell her till today. (Hopes she like it because I was listening to train while writing this and she hates Train, like nobody knows that.)

Hello, let’s briefly pause the vacation recaps so I can post proof that occasionally, people outside of the Cult of Erin (otherwise known as Henry and Chooch) hang out with me. Friends, I have them.  

Thursday evening, Wendy and Barb took me to dinner for my birthday! Wendy and I left straight from work and met Barb (THE QUITTER!!) at Cafe Io in Mt. Lebanon. I didn’t meet Wendy’s navigational standards so by the time we arrived, she said exasperatedly to Barb, “YOU can take her home. I’m done with her!”

Wendy has made a seamless transition into the Mean Pregnant Lady spot that Amber2 has vacated!

I mean, I was already stoked that I was getting a free meal, but they both had presents for me too! I LOVE PRESENTS! I think it stems from my past of being a very spoiled child. Wendy got me an awesome bracelet that has a ribcage cameo on it. Totally screams “Erin Rachelle.”

Barb has entered the Adult Coloring stage of her life and I’m the first recipient of the fruit of her labor! I LOVE BEING FIRST! Not only did she put it in a frame for me, but she signed it too! 

So sweet and thoughtful and abundantly clear that she idolizes me so much that now she’s trying to be a fake artist like me now, too.

I miss seeing these two everyday at work. I mean, I still see Wendy, but it’s only half as good without Barb being there too. LE SIGH.

As Barb crossed the street to her car, I shouted that I was going to hang the picture up when I got home. “In my BASEMENT!” I added, and oh how we laughed. Just like old times. :(

And then on Sunday, I got to see Barb again, at Wendy’s baby shower! Did I tell you, Internet Memoir, that Wendy is PREGNANT?! I mean, aside from the second paragraph of this chapter.  Well, ICYMI*, Wendy is WITH CHILD.

*(Barb, that means “in case you missed it.”)

Normally, the idea of these types of functions makes ash slough off from charcoal heart, but I was excited about this one because Wendy is one of my dearest friends (ugh, it pains me to be sweet) and I was doubly stoked about this event because Nina and Angie were going to be there and I never get to see them anymore since they left The Law Firm and moved to different states!

Angie and Nina, and Debbie who also left The Law Firm last January! It was a nice reunion.

Nina harassed me because I get so stiff when someone tries to take my picture. Deer in headlights might not be as accurate as, say, girl in a dentists chair with a drill approaching.

Bridget got roped into being the gift-writer-downer and the poor girl probably needs physical therapy for her hand now. She made a comment about how it should be me in that chair with the pen and paper, and I was like “LOWER YOUR VOICE!” Seriously, if I had been nominated for that duty, I’d have knocked Barb the fuck out the way and dove through the closed window behind her. I hate being in front of crowds!

Wendy got a SHITLOAD of awesome gifts, and because she’s Wendy, she had an anecdote for pretty much every gift she received. She could find a way to drag out the opening of a bottle drying rack into a 7 minute Rose Nylund-esque trip down memory lane. Another one of my work friends, Regina, was one of the shower planners and she was trying so hard to get the present-opening portion of the afternoon moving less like a Sunday Driver and more like Justin Bieber driving through a Florida suburb.

I got the baby “The Adventures Of Beekled: An Unimaginary Friend” because the illustrations were cool as fuck and that’s the most important thing to consider when buying a book for a baby. Also maybe stop and think and if there will be any literate people around who can possibly read this book when the baby is born. I also made Wendy a painting for the nursery, because she has me on lock for three pieces. So, one down!
  

The book and the painting both inspired two separate wendylogues and Regina gave me a seething look. A thing you should know about Wendy is that her ability to get sidetracked and take you down an oral rabbit hole is one of her most endearing qualities!

It was a really beautiful baby shower and so great to see some of my work friends outside of The Law Firm, and to some quality time with those who aren’t there anymore. But if I’m being honest, my favorite part was the fact that the favors were TEA CUPS. You guys might not know this, but I have a thing for these little plants called succulents?! And tea cups are my preferred potting object for them! In fact, I had two at home that were homeless, so I was really excited to bring home something for it to rest its roots!

But then I noticed that all of the tea cups were different, and I promise I was trying to be subdued about it, but I started examining the other cups at my table. Nina and Angie’s mom were like, “Uh, you can have ours” and Barb tried like 87 times to give me hers even though I kept telling her IT WAS TOO PLAIN!

Debbie pointed out that hers was still at the table she was technically supposed to be sitting at (she dragged her chair over to our table and we made room for her). I noticed that Missy was walking toward it, so I got up and lunged at it, swiping it off the table before she had a chance to. She was just like, “Um, OK.” And then I kind of felt bad because she was just trying to get an extra one so that her daughter could have a tea party; I offered Barb’s bastard tea cup to her but she didn’t want it either.

Catherine found out what was happening, so she gave me hers, which she didn’t want because she found a better one unclaimed at another table. When she showed me that one, I said I preferred that one over the first one she offered me, and she was like, “Tough shit, I’m not giving this one up.” IT WAS SO PERFECT. It had TWO HANDLES and a beautiful gold, Greek-like design embossed around the lip.

Then Regina caught wind of my tea cup hoarding and gave me a tea pot that no one chose as a prize. As soon as I got home, I ran straight to my bedroom, changed out of my dress and into my gardening garb, and potted the shit out of my two homeless succulents.

I texted a picture to Barb who replied, “You don’t waste any time!” Maybe if Barb understood what it was like to be passionate* about plants, she wouldn’t respond in such a surprised manner.

*(See also: obsessed and lacking an actual life.)

Later, I went to dinner at Grant Bar in Millvale with Henry and Chooch because god forbid a day goes by that I don’t allow them to hang out with me.

Henry made a silverware sculpture, I had the best coconut cream pie I’ve ever had in my whole life, and Chooch NEVER STOPPED TALKING. (He also was on the verge of verbally attacking the waitress when she came back from the kitchen to inform him that they were out of the pumpkin pie he ordered “with a la mode” but managed to catch himself just in time and instead expressed his disappointment in a long, drawn-out groan.)

The food at Grant’s Bar is fine, but it’s those faux-stone walls and small-town, outdated ambiance that keeps me coming back. These are the types of restaurants I’m always trying to eat at when we’re on vacation too! Speaking of, I will continue that saga tomorrow. Busch Gardens or the Whirligig Park?!  I KNOW YOU CAN’T WAIT TO FIND OUT.

Funny backstory guys! 

Just kidding. This isn’t a funny story at all. But it’s going to start out waaaay worse than it ended up being so don’t you go and get all panicky!

A week before vacation, Henry and I came  home from work to find his mom, Judy, in what appeared to be some type of shock on the couch. She didn’t seem very cognizant or coherent, and she was shaking really bad.

We thought she was having a stroke. It was probably the scariest thing I’ve ever witnessed personally. Thank god Henry was there to take action because I was one step away from joining his mom on the couch. I’m so terrible in emergencies!

Chooch was down the street at his friend’s house so while I ran down to get him, Henry called 911 and then fetched Hot Naybor Chris’s wife, Ruth, who is a nurse. She sat with Judy and pretty quickly deduced that it likely was not a stroke. 

The first responders and paramedics said the same thing, but wanted to transport her to one of the city’s hospitals that has a stroke unit, to be safe.

Turns out she had several infections and a fever that was over 104, which was what had sent her into that scary, seemingly catatonic state. Long story short, she had to stay in the hospital for a week but she is home now and well on her way to recovery. 

Scariest thing I’ve ever witnessed though, and I appreciate the one first responder who tried to quell my sobbing by looking around the house and asking, “So, who likes The Cure?” Meanwhile, the othe one was slowly looking all around my house, at the pictures of bloody Easter bunnies and cemeteries on my walls, clowns scattered about, Ouija board container of mints on the skull-covered coffee table, and then at me, and then back at All The Stuff. I was slowly trying to roll up the Devil rug with my foot. I mean, my house isn’t an in-your-face exploration into the design aethestics of a serial killer, but there’s a lot to look at. And then the more you look…the more you might start to wonder….But I don’t think about it that often because this is my normal and usually the people who come into my house are people who know me so they’re not fazed. It’s always interesting to see it through a stranger’s eyes. 

I was telling Glenn and Amber2 about this the next day and for the first time since it all went down, I laughed. “It probably looked like a spell gone wrong!” And oh how we all chuckled in unison, a real Oh Honestly, Erin moment.   

To me, the creepiest thing in my house is that pink-haired boy in the background.   

Anyway, most of the Henry Bombs from that week were shot in the hospital, so now you’ll know why. (Oh, and obviously I wasn’t running around the hospital taking pictures on that first night; these were all when we were visiting, after we knew she was good and on the mend. Good lord, that was scary.)

The “Headless Henry Carries A Purse While I Stuff Melons Down My Shirt” shot. Seriously, my boob looks so big and droopy in this picture. 
  

The “Henry Enjoys the View From The Mercy Hospital Elevator, Considers Jumping” shot. 

The “Another Day, Another Elevator Ride, Another Same-Colored Shirt” shot. 
  

The “Stalking the Hospital Men’s Room, Waiting For Henry to Emerge, Getting Weird Looks In the Hallway” shot. 

The “Just Came Home From Buying Food For The Dependents, Found A Different Shirt To Wear, Is It Plain Enough?” shot. 
  

The “Hot Naybor Chris Is Working On His Car So Henry Suddenly Needs To Mow the Lawn” shot. 

The “Balancing a TV On Your Head Takes Panache And a Stately Moustache (And a Blank T-Shirt)” shot. 

I’m the type of broad who gets super sensitive and sad on her birthday. It’s all that emo I listen to, I know, I know. But my 36th birthday was a very pleasant one, aside from a fight that Chooch and I had that night over dinner because we are literally the same person and turn into psychopaths when we’re hungry and the restaurant I picked (Tortuga’s in Thunderbolt, if you’re curious) ended up not having the same menu I saw on Yelp and the waitress was annoyed when I whimpered, “But I’m a vegetarian” and then I started CRYING AT THE TABLE and Chooch was all OH NICE ONE, MOMMY and then Henry was like, “Um, why don’t you go wait in the car and I’ll get this food to go?” 

This all went down in about 30 minutes and then everything was fine. Henry defused yet another bomb. The waitress got the cook to make me a fried green tomato panini and Henry drove to some parking lot and then Chooch and I walked on the beach for a little bit after we ate and it was nice. (Henry hung back in the parking lot shadows like the Salem Strangler.) And some teenaged girl enthusiastically told me that she thought my outfit was cute, like I wasn’t some 36-year-old out-of-touch hag! In my head I was like CAN I HUG U but in real life, I mumbled, “Thx.”

  
Before things went awry. 

Other than the Dinner Disaster, every thing else was wonderful. On the eve of my birthday, we checked into our hotel in Savannah and I was greeted by this:

The sweetest birthday basket from my sweet friend Octavia, which also included a small toy fox, because Emarosa. <3 Such a thoughtful touch! Octavia would go on to spend the next day showing us around Savannah and making our first time in her city totally fun and unforgettable. (All of that gets its own post, coming soon!)

Meanwhile, friends and family were sending me birthday wishes, photos of cabbage & Robert Smith & clowns, and proof that they listened to Emarosa in my honor. 

My favorite, from Allison: 
:):):):):)

We arrived home from our vacation around 1:09AM this morning and a package containing THREE LITHOPS FROM KENDAHL was waiting on my porch!! Talk about getting a second wind! I left Henry on the sidewalk to deal with our luggage (lol, like I’d have helped him otherwise) and promptly potted my new succulents instead of going to bed like I had spent the last hour(s) in the car whining about wanting to do.  

The Kendahl Family! Bradley, Robert, and Barbara (named after three of my favorite singers, Bradley Walden, Robert Smith, and Barbara Streisand):
  

This morning, Hot Naybor Chris gave Chooch a bag of our mail, which included a package from Brandy. LOOK AT THIS MASTERPIECE:

I cried real tears. It means so much to me and I can’t wait to put it on my desk at work, where I can look at it everyday!  I’m surrounded by caring, thoughtful, GOOD people and that makes me feel less alone and a little less jaded, too. I try not to let my birthdays get to me, but I always lose that battle. So thank you to everyone who reached out and made my birthday less painful. 36 is a big number!