Oh Honestly, Erin

My mantra on Friday was, “Soon this hellacious day will be over, and you will be hanging out with Chris, and definitely drinking wine.” Having something to look forward to later definitely made work much more bearable!

Henry, Chooch, and I went over to Chez Chronica right after work. Monica was working, sadly, and she was missed! But…more tots for us? A small consulation, I guess.

Chris is the best hostess ever, I’m not kidding. Look at how beautiful the table was! And it was just the dumb Appledale/Robbins family she was hosting, not anyone important. I felt so spoiled, which is exactly how I like to feel! And she plied us with homemade caramel apple cupcakes, which is exactly how I like to be plied!

Chris made us vegetarian French dips (they had portabello mushrooms in them) and they were so damn good, unless you’re Chooch, then you just ate bread and tots because TEXTURE ISSUES.

After we ate, Henry left because our refrigerator is dying and he wanted to go scope some options for us but really he just didn’t want to watch A SCARY MOVIE which was the whole point of Dinner & Horror Movie Night, but whatever Henry. Just don’t let Trump grab you by your pussy while you’re out, I guess.

Here’s a picture of Monica’s frenemy with two of her favorite things: her cat Graham and Star Wars Legos. This photo was taken a few minutes after Chooch called Graham a “dirty prick” for absolutely no reason.

Chooch kept himself busy and non-annoying all evening by putting things together. Thank god for brain stimulation, otherwise it would have been “Chris Chris Chris Chris Hey Chris” all during the movie. 

Chris didn’t feel like breaking up the ice cubes for Chooch’s lemonade, but it just made it look fancy.

We watched I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives In the House and I can’t figure out if I really loved it or was duped by the indie-ness of it all, but I can tell you this: it was beautifully filmed and I had an intense chill crawling all the way up my leg by the end. It was a slow-burner, you guys.

Chooch mocked Chris for saying, “Whoa!” every time something happened that shocked her.

Henry came back before it ended and pretended to be VERY INTERESTED IN HIS PHONE so that he wouldn’t have to be scared. Then he fell asleep. But who needs Henry’s company when you have Chooch churning out stories left and right?

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SATURDAY

After a ton of planning and numerous reschedules, the stars aligned and breakfast was officially a go with Lisa and Stacey. We went to Coca Café and even though we had to wait for about 30 minutes because it’s a hipster haven. Lisa commented that her husband Matt would hate it there because of the clientele and I started cracking up because SO WOULD HENRY. And the funniest part to me is that both of them have the perfect beards to blend right in with all those d-bags, too.

There was a couple waiting out there with us and I know I have seen them somewhere before and it’s driving me nuts. I mentally ran through a list of all the shows I’ve been to this year BUT I JUST DON’T KNOW.

Oh well.

Waiting wasn’t even an issue because it just meant more time to bullshit with Lisa and Stacey — why doesn’t this happen more often!? Conversation flowed so easily (probably because I SAVED STACEY’S LIFE on the way there when Lisa made us jaywalk, and once you save someone’s life, there’s a pretty strong bond there, you know?) and the food was amazing. You’d have never known that it’s been like, 6  years since the three of us hung out together.

We started out by developing a delightful rapport with our fabulous waiter, Tristan, and each ordering a buttermilk donut slathered with raspberry hibiscus icing. They were served to us WARM and we all immediately wished that we had ordered double. This is the kind of donut worth breaking a diet for. I mean, if you were on a diet. Clearly I am not.

My donut had more icing than Lisa’s, hence the sad face. YOU KNOW I GLOATED. Meanwhile, Stacey tried to be a martyr by offering to swap donuts with Lisa since hers also had more icing.

OMG I ordered the Breakfast Bowl which was divine, even though Stacey was terrified of every ingredient in it. I was really leaning heavily toward the pumpkin-stuffed French toast, but I almost always get sick when I choose sweet over savory for breakfast. Anyway, it was a wonderful mixture of some of my favorite things, like quinoa, edamame and kale! (I might reject everything they stand for, but I definitely have the palate of a hipster, that’s for sure.)

On the walk back to the car, I noticed that I had been carrying my take-out box on a tilt, and breakfast juice was dripping all over my hand. I HATE MESSES! This rendered me partially-paralyzed, and I started screaming things like HELP ME HELP! Stacey assured me that she had wet wipes back at the car, so I was momentarily pacified—–until seconds later when I realized that I was DOING IT AGAIN and this time the juice was sluicing all down my OTHER HAND. NOW I HAD TWO MESSY HANDS OMG I’M DYING HELP SOMEONE GRAB THE OXYGEN MASK.

Lisa was all, “Oh for God’s sake!” and grabbed the nearest LEAF off the ground, ROLLED MY SLEEVE UP, and wiped away the drops of juice with the dry, scratchy leaf at the exact moment Stacey commented it was probably covered in dog piss and now I WAS ABOUT TO PASS OUT.

Somehow, I made it back to the car and fell into the sweet angel arms of a baby wipe. Stacey tried to hand me the package of wipes because she thought I needed another one, but I didn’t, so I just let it drop to the ground because that’s the kind of thing I do. Stacey was just like, “OK great” and picked it up, because I was already walking away, so…..

Lisa was like, “SEE, I TOLD SHE’S A JERK!!!!” and I just laughed because this is me! Nice to meet you!

Honestly though, what a satisfying weekend full of awesome friends this has been so far! Very thankful and content right now. Especially since Henry just said that he MIGHT take me to see Balance and Composure on Thursday and oh I will just cry the happiest of tears if this is true.

This past weekend was one of those weekends where nothing super major happened, but it was just so pleasant and fulfilling that I want to remember it forever. So walk with me, and I’ll tell you all about it. If you feel a pain in your leg, that’s just me kicking you because you fell asleep.

FIRST, we went to lunch at the Interchange with my mom and brother Ryan. I was really excited because this was the first fall day that was chilly enough to have Henry and Chooch running for their flannels and beanies, and you guys — that’s my favorite version of them! We walked out of the house and I had a strong urge to go on a hayride or stir a cauldron of white privileged male blood under a full moon. TAKE ME, AUTUMNAL EQUINOX.

Anyway, lunch was great! I quit going over to my grandparents’ house near the end of August because I admittedly couldn’t handle it anymore (I was literally losing hair over it, no joke), so I’m glad that I still get to see my mom outside of that situation. And my brother Ryan! I have no idea why we don’t hang out more often, but every time I see him, I’m reminded of how awesome he is. We reminisced about all the haunted houses we went to as kids, and the time I took him and some of his friends to the USS Nightmare when I was 19 and they were all jerky middle schoolers. While we were in line, one of them pulled out a laser pointer and started shining it into the windows of the Marriott we were standing next to, and then some hotel guest picked up his LAMP and started shining it back at us.

“I guess you had to be there,” I said to Henry, who rolled his eyes as usual.

And then my vegetarian kid (holding strong since July with zero pressure applied from me, I swear!) ordered the vegetarian burger which was basically just a portabello mushroom, and told the waitress, “But I don’t want the onions, or the lettuce, or the tomatoes…..or the mushroom.”

“So, you want a bun, basically,” I sighed and told him to pick something else.

“Then I’ll have the veggie hoagie, but I don’t want….” and before he could finish un-ordering every single vegetable that came on it, I interjected and said, “JUST GET THE GRILLED CHEESE.”

So he got the grilled cheese.

Over lunch, I was telling Ryan and Val about how Chooch called Henry from the gifted school because he needed to know where Henry’s ancestors are from because they were doing a project in his multi-cultural elective.

“So Henry told him that he had ancestors from Serbia, but Chooch confused it with Siberia,” I said and everyone laughed except for Henry, who sighed, “Yeah, except that my ancestors are Syrian, not Serbian, so you’re both wrong.”

And then we laughed even harder because LOLOLOL Chooch and I are so ignorant when it comes to Henry.

Being ignorant.

The rest of the afternoon was, in all honesty, spent listening to the new Dance Gavin Dance record because when I obsess, I obsess HARD.

Later that evening, Lisa picked me up and took me to her friends’ house in Wilkinsburg for their annual Beerstravaganza, which is kind of similar to my pie party, but everyone brings a six-pack or growler of their favorite beer to share and it’s, you know, considerably more drunken. When we got there, Lisa had a moment of panic because she had a whole box of 12 beers and only wanted to bring in the required 6 bottles, but then she was going to look dumb carrying in a half box and OMG what was she going to do. I just stood there, looking at my phone, twirling my hair, spinning in circles like I do, when it occurred to me that she was having some type of crisis, so I casually suggested that she just take out six bottles and replace it with the six bottles I was holding, and then it would just be like, “Oh look, these girls combined their beers into one box of 12. Nothing to see here.”

Lisa kept going on and on about how brilliant I am (le duh) and how she would be able to use my now-empty beer carrier thingie to put her extra 6 beers in so that they wouldn’t be rolling all around the back of her car, and don’t you worry, I took this moment to bask in my ingenuity.

The reality of the situation is that no one would have even noticed if she rolled us with a half-empty box because no one was standing over  by the kiddie pools of beer. And also, probably because it wasn’t that big of a deal!

Nevertheless, always happy to be part of the solution!

That was incredibly boring. I GUESS YOU HAD TO BE THERE, HENRY.

(Henry is everyone. Everyone is Henry.)

I usually get super nervous when I go to a party (which isn’t often because I usually just say no; see: the part about me getting super nervous), but Lisa is like my social crutch. I’m not sure what it is, but anytime I go anywhere with Lisa, the old Erin comes back out. The Erin who hasn’t spent the last 15 years being stifled and put in a corner. So when we were sitting around the bonfire and Lisa said, “I have to go to the bathroom, do you want to come in the house with me?” I was like, “Nah, I’m good right here.

”

And that’s how I made friends with a girl named Jen (we’re having lunch on Tuesday!) and listened to Rob tell a story about peeing on OJ Simpson when he was a baby!

And I also imprinted on a guy wearing a Civil War jacket and apparently developed a taste for “sour” beers. I DRANK FOUR DIFFERENT BEERS, YOU GUYS! This is monumental. I’m not a beer-person. That’s actually how I was introducing myself to people: “Hi I’m Erin. I’m learning to like beer.” And everyone was super nice to me about it! #babysteps

Lisa came back out at one point and started to say something to me, but I was all, “Shh, I’m trying to listen to Rob’s story” and she was all, “…the fuck is Rob?”

It was a really great night and I’m glad that I went even though I’m unsure of beer and people. Thanks, Lisa!

SUNDAY

After nearly a year, Chooch’s piano lessons resumed Sunday morning! His instructor, Cheryl, had temporarily moved to Asheville, NC (SC?) because she enrolled in some massage therapy program. We reallllly missed her and I was actually kind of worried that she was going to end up not coming back and we have to scour the city for a new instructor, and you all know how picky Chooch is. But yay, Cheryl’s back! She lives in Lawrenceville now, so after we dropped Chooch off, Henry and I killed time by strolling along Butler Street, which is his least favorite street in all of the land because hipsters.

Which is why it was so hilarious to me when he tripped TWICE on our walk, the second was so bad that he thought he broke his toe. Oh, god, how I laughed. That’s what happens when you walk with your nose all up in your phone, dumbass!

But yeah, he tripped in front of a whole gaggle of hipsters and they probably all talked about it later at their Dissecting Tame Impala Lyrics Over Cold Brew club.

Pre-tripping.

#thefrenchdudes

This was inexplicably stapled to a telephone pole. I’m sure there’s a reason but who cares. IT’S A GREAT READ.

After an hour of leisurely strolling, we went back to Cheryl’s and I was prepared for her to say, “Hey, I could totally tell that this kid hasn’t plugged in his keyboard since his last lesson with me in 2015” because he totally hasn’t, that lazy bastard. But because it’s CHOOCH, GOLDEN CHOOCH, she was all, “Somehow, I think he’s gotten even better!?” and proceeded to praise his “natural ability” while Chooch stood smugly at her side.

Ugh, I’m so jealous of my own kid.

But seeing Cheryl again was a huge upside to the weekend!

After lessons, we went to lunch at the Abbey, which is across from the Allegheny Cemetery and used to be a funeral home, so basically, a sanctuary for Erin R. Kelly.

My favorite part though wasn’t even the food. We had just walked inside and the hostess asked Henry how many he had in his party. Right when he said three—and I swear this wasn’t planned—Chooch and I casually popped out from behind him.

The hostess started cracking up.

“Oh my god, I don’t know how you guys did that, but it was awesome!”

I’ll tell you how: it’s because Chooch and I are like Henry’s lemmings. We walk so close behind him that if he stops abruptly, we cause a complete human pile-up, like a G-rated Human Centipede. This is why he hates grocery shopping with us because anytime he turns around, he runs right into us and then loses his mind over it.

I can only imagine how circus-y it must have looked from the hostess’s vantage. MAYBE THIS SHOULD BE OUR NEW SIGNATURE ENTRANCE. Chooch and I can wear sequined gloves and pop out from behind Henry with jazz hands and deranged clown-smiles.

I’m into this.

We all got the brunch buffet (actually, Henry assumed this was what I wanted and ordered it for me when I wasn’t paying attention, but whatever). It was fine. I’m not a huge fan of buffets to begin with but the ambiance of the Abbey and the fact that the hostess saw us for the bright, shining stars that we are was enough to keep me from cyber-bullying them on social media.

Henry and I took longer at the buffet than Chooch did (because I require so much assistance), and when we rejoined him at the table, he was lazily sipping on OJ that he ordered on his own because he doesn’t need parents, and I don’t know why, but this image made me lose it. He just shrugged and took another sip.

Interestingly, one of the items on the buffet was vegetarian sausage gravy and biscuits which was amazing timing because at the bonfire the night before, they had real sausage gravy and biscuits which I could not partake in obviously so I just ate biscuits instead while wishing there was meatless gravy.

(OMG I forgot to mention that someone had made some BOMB PUMPKIN PIE OMG TAKE ME BACK.

)

(I had to get Lisa to cut me a slice though, because knives.)

During my second and final trip to the buffet (these things are huge wastes of money for me),  Andy Gibb’s “I Just Want To Be Your Everything” was playing overhead. Behind me, a man said (to his friend, not to me, shockingly), “I love this song, but I don’t know who sings it.”

Before Henry had a chance to clamp down on my arm, I whipped my head around and yelled, “Andy Gibb!” in such a way that it sounded like I was in a race to be the first say it.

Which, I was.

His friend laughed, and said, “Yep, it is” and then Henry stuffed me back under his thumb. He hates it so much when I butt into the conversations of strangers with ALL OF THE ANSWERS.

I can’t help it. If people are talking about music, my dog-ears activate.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON:

We had just returned from a disappointing visit to Dave’s Music Mine, who did not have the new Balance and Composure on vinyl. I was standing around idly in the driveway while Henry cleaned out the car and as I went to walk away, he tried to give me some garbage to take with me.

“Take that with you!” he yelled as I let it fall to the ground.

“Nope!” I yelled back as I pranced toward the house. (Really, I pranced just to accentuate the fact that I’m too much of a princess to TAKE GARBAGE* INTO THE HOUSE.)

“TAKE IT WITH YOU!” he cried again.

“I don’t want to!” I yelled back, and then I noticed a guy walking down the sidewalk, laughing at us. You’re welcome for the free show, I guess.

*(Actually, it was the sign I made for the pie party — I didn’t want to carry that shit!)

The end. Classic sign-off. Killing this blog game.

It’s not that I do it intentionally, but I do go through phases where I just don’t really see my friends very often. We still text, etc. but sometimes the good, old-fashioned face-time is lacking.

Lately though, I’ve been getting in some quality hangs and I’m starting to remember what it felt like before I suddenly developed “social anxiety” which I’m not even sure I really have, to be honest. I was going to make some comment at this juncture about how it’s really Henry keeping me under his thumb but who would even believe that? For real though, December has been rife with good people!

In addition to Vintage Snack Attack, here are some more casual hang-outs I would like to be remembering:

1. Indian Foods with Kara and Brian

Sometime ago, Brian and I randomly became friends via Facebook. We have quite a few mutual friends, so I guess it wasn’t all that random. But it was one of those deals where we friended each other and then never interacted. If we’re being honest, I thought he was too cool and popular for a lame-bag like me, so I would just occasionally like his posts but never comment, because I can’t hang with the big dogs.

I even struggle with the little dogs.

But then one day, Brian sent me a message and was like “PLEASE DON’T GET CREEPED OUT, BUT…” and already he had my interest because I love being creeped out. Anyway, he thinks that Henry might be his long-lost older brother because there is a resemblance that he just can’t un-see, and that is how the Facebook ice was broken. Plus, it turns out he has known my pal Kara for like, ever, so we decided that we all needed to go out to lunch. (We realized that we were both at Kara’s wedding in 2008 before we knew each other! Pittsburgh is small as fuck.)

Basically, what is happening here is that Brian is just going through me to become friends with Henry. And it’s cool. This is how it works. EVERYONE LOVES HENRY MORE THAN ME.

(That’s not a chip on my shoulder. That’s just a newly-formed dent from all the extreme KpopX arm moves.)

We were originally going to go to Zenith, but they were closed for a dumb private party, ugh. So Brian suggested Cafe Delhi in Carnegie because it’s really good and also because he can just walk to it. #selfish Turns out we all benefited from his selfishness though, because Cafe Delhi’s curry was like “Please fill a water park with this and let me intertube my way to obesity!” levels of greatness.

Brian took this picture of my Sophia ring (which I’m posting here without his permission because I do what I want on the Internet), which escalated fast to the point where he is basically my manager trying to launch my hand-modeling career.

Anyway, Brian was just as cool and funny in person and he seemed to not think I was a complete dud! Now I guess I have to let him meet Henry.

Also, it was wonderful spending time with Kara in a setting where we could actually talk without me fussing over a table full of gelatin or our kids running around in flames.

2. Brunch with Lisa, oui oui

I was super excited last Saturday when Lisa changed her mind at the last minute and said, “No, instead of you coming over here to hang out, let’s go out!” I love hanging out with Lisa even if it’s just lounging around her house with coffee, but we really don’t go out very often (I get it — I had a toddler once!) so this was like a big deal. We decided to go to Tartine for some French culture. I was happy because right away, our waitress complimented my sweater and not Lisa’s.

“Go ahead,” Lisa sighed, and I frantically posted about it on Facebook. This is kind of our thing — anytime someone likes something of mine and not Lisa’s, I blow it out of proportion, and I know what you’re thinking: “Wow, that seems very out of character for you, Leo Erin.”

One of my favorite stories is from when Lisa and I went to Eat n Park during one of her visits home when she was living in Colorado, and the waitress approved of my dessert but not Lisa’s:

July 2007

Lisa temporarily resides in Colorado so I was excited to get to see her Wednesday afternoon during her Pittsburgh visit. We walked down the street to Eat n Park for coffee and dessert, the perfect pre-work sugar fix.

Our waitress Barb was an older woman with the easy-to-talk-to charm of a seasoned server.

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Lisa immediately overshadowed me with her big smile and confident voice.

“I’ll have the chocolate cake!” Lisa cheerfully ordered.

Barb smiled and jotted it down.

“And I’ll have the blackberry pie with ice cream,” I ordered not as cheerfully, but I sort of smiled. Which is big for me.

Barb’s body shook with pleasure. “Yes! Good choice!” she sang as she scratched my order on her pad with a flourish. “That’s my favorite!”

I smirked at Lisa after Barb retreated. “She likes me better than you,” I chided.

“What makes your pie so much better than my chocolate cake? I mean, it’s chocolate cake!” Lisa’s visage melted into a befuddled glaze.

“Chocolate cake is a menu mainstay, Lisa. My pie is a seasonal delight.” This seemed to distract Lisa long enough for me to continue droning on about my life’s conundrums.

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It’s nice to have counseling ears across from me sometimes.

Barb returned with our desserts and the reminder than I am, and always will be, better than Lisa. She set down Lisa’s plate with an unremarkable motion, but then turned to me with the fanfare of a queen’s arrival as she gently placed my pie beneath my fat face and took a step back.

“Look at that pie, would you? Oh, I hope you will enjoy it. It really is the best!”

I hesitated before crushing into the crisp sugary crust, unsure if Barb was going to stand there and gawk. She smiled once more and carried on with her rounds of coffee refills.

Lisa was absently slapping her cake with the back of her fork, scowling at me. “Enjoy your freaking pie,” she mimicked.

During our meal, Barb came back later with our separate checks. She was delighted to tell me that my check was special. “Lookie here! There’s a number at the bottom to call and complete a real short survey. Then you write down the code they give you and bring this back next time for a two dollar discount!” She clapped her hands together and held them under her chin, waiting for me to call my mommy and thank her for birthing me so that I could one day experience the jubilation of getting an Eat n Park survey check.

I feigned happiness for the sake of Lisa’s plummeting self-worth. “It’s because I was smart enough to order the delicious pie and not the boring cake,” using my words to further wheedle away at her ordering inadequacies.

We continued to pick away at our desserts and imbibe (too much) coffee, when Lisa spilled her water all over the table. Barb came running over with her rag and we all tried to make light of Lisa’s fumbling fingers.

“At least it didn’t get on her pie,” Barb sighed.

#NEVERFORGET

Anyway, Lisa and I both enjoyed our French brunches (she has some kind of ham crepes, but I had the Tartine Poire, into which I really wish I could face-plant right this very moment) and I made some Drake-inspired comment about how we started at Denny’s now we here, which was probably only funny to me but Lisa politely laughed anyway.

Our waitress looked so much like Shelley Hennig from Teen Wolf (and ex-Days of Our Lives!) that I actually wondered if it really was her and we were being secretly filmed for some “celebs doing blue-collared jobs” reality show. Lisa of course didn’t know who that was because she’s an adult, so I showed her a picture on my phone and even she agreed that it was uncanny and Lisa and I usually don’t agree on things like that, so this was a big day.

Bertrand, the cutest restaurant owner of all time.

Lisa and I definitely need to do this more often. Or at least have Henry make us fancy French breakfast shit.

3. Pittsburgh Hangs w/ Jason

Jason was visiting from Cleveland and penciled us in for a Saturday evening hang sesh. He was already in Dormont, so Henry suggested that we just go to Tom’s Diner, because it was raining really hard and who wants to drive in that shit, right?

I don’t think we have ever had the pleasure of seeing Jason so many times in one year — three times in the span of a month is pretty good! I guess this makes up for last March when I was in Cleveland with Janna for the Howard Jones show and completely dropped the ball on meeting up with him.

What I really want to remember about this night is how WELL-BEHAVED Chooch was being! I mean, not that he’s a menace, usually, but sometimes he can get ornery if the attention isn’t on him (he must get that from Henry). Chooch is a chronic interrupter. Have you met me? This is my GREATEST PET PEEVE. I hate being interrupted. Shut your fucking mouth and wait your turn. Put it on my gravestone for Christ’s sake, I don’t fucking care!

This is one of the reasons Chooch and I fight so much, is because he can’t just wait his turn to speak. He is obsessed with hearing his own voice! So I’m always flipping out and he’s just like, “THIS CAN’T WAIT!” and guess what?! Not once in however-long-he’s-known-words has it ever been “important” or an “emergency.” So I get on edge sometimes when he’s with us and we’re hanging out with people who don’t have kids, because you just never know.

But he was a real pleasure on this night, in that booth at Tom’s Diner, and he ate all of his idiotic food and actually seemed enrapt in everything Jason was talking about and then it occurred to me: of course he was enrapt. Literally all we talked about the whole time was music and the music industry and the magazine and Warped Tour. Why wouldn’t he be enrapt!? He is my kid!

And then Jason asked him what he’s been listening to lately, which launched a conversation about Bring Me the Horizon and Twenty-One Pilots. I don’t think I ever really had anyone to talk to about music when I was a kid, so it’s cool that Chooch does.

God, Chooch has it all.

I didn’t subject Jason to any pictures this time, but Chooch followed Henry into the bathroom and snagged this gem:

I think my favorite part of Tom’s was when Jason reluctantly promised that he would give the entire Carly Rae Jepsen E.MO.TION record an honest spin.

Later, I realized that the reason Chooch was being so quiet and respectable is because he was sick. Whatever, I’ll take it!

Here’s hoping January brings some more quality hang-times.