This was Chooch, post-unicorn photo shoot. He is such a little snob.

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Some stuff on my mantle. That awesome killer klown head protruding from the popcorn box was made my friend Chuck, who had me write some descriptions for his new products, like this one here!

Marcy, thoroughly agitated by my frantic walking challenge nightly house-pacing.

There was a furry and a parking meter with handcuffs behind me.

Self Portrait.

Henry’s on the prowl for kittens again.

This was given to me yesterday because I’m now known at work as the girl who likes weird carrots. I’m cool with that.

Jonny Craig is on the cover of the latest Alternative Press! When I was screaming about it at work, Carey asked, “Is this a magazine you made up?” because she hates Jonny and hates me too!

Anyway, my subscriber copy finally arrived yesterday WHILE I WAS ALREADY AT WORK so Henry texted me a picture of it and then proceeded to make idle threats.

Came home from work to a gingeriffic photo spread of Jonny AND a joint package from Andrea and Chuck. They sent me one of Chuck’s Killer Klown masterpieces! I almost died. Chuck is famous in the Halloween industry for his amazing masks and horror props, and when he asked me to write descriptions for his two new products, I was so honored!

Chooch painted Jonny for me. I have relinquished all my blank canvases and jumbled box of paint to him, for he is the new Somnambulant. Bow before him. (But be careful he doesn’t puke on your back–he does that shit.)

I’m writing this while waiting for the trolley because Henry ruined my life.

Because sometimes it’s nice to give the words a rest.

Note to self: Don’t leave Jonny alone with Henry.

Late night cable access laffs: Hip Hop with Cassie. (Couldn’t get Henry to participate.)

Choochelina: Shoe Model.

Jonny and I went to see Cabin in the Woods Sunday night. Don’t worry – Laura chaperoned.

Ended the weekend with new nails.

Studded swag, y’all.

(“Shit. If only she were always this succinct,” said everyone who is forced to read this blog.

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I love that my co-workers save all their degenerate foodstuffs for me. It reminds me of my cat Don’s weener when he was a kitten.

Except orange.

I guess this is my Wordless Wednesday contribution. Who even cares.

Maybe if I put as much effort into my style as I do with Chooch’s, I wouldn’t look like a bag lady at work everyday.

I was kind of let down by this park in Columbus, because really – the excitement of bush people only extends so far. But surprisingly, Chooch was really infatuated by it and when he saw that there was a house for sale across the street, he wanted to buy it.

I was wildly concerned with the possibility of one of us stepping in dog poop.

There are no pictures of Henry because he was too busy sitting on a bench, chaperoning. And by chaperoning, I mean squinting at his phone with his glasses resting precariously on the tip of his nose.

We stopped here after visiting the Early Television Museum, which I’ll write about later. Putting things in order is so overrated.

Chooch kept wanting to lay down everywhere, which would make me shout, “Hello!

Dog shit!”

For not giving a shit about the topiary people, leaving that place was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

Coming home from roller skating.

Playing Draw Something with Henry is really bringing us together.

Except for the fact that his user name is “hatemygirlfriend.”

I’m sure Henry thought to himself, “I’m so glad I’ve listened to Erin blather on and on about scene bands for the last 11 years so that I might one day guess ‘Skrillex’ correctly.” Skrillex will always be Sonny Moore from From First To Last in my heart.

RIP FFTL.

Nice school house, Henry. You shoulda put him in a wheelchair!

Draw Something has totally overridden Words With Friends as my lone social activity. Start a game with me!

P.S. Henry evidently fixed the email subscriptions for my blog, so if you suddenly start getting irritating email notifications, just remember: YOU SIGNED UP, DUMMY! But don’t worry, I expect it will stop working within a week, anyway. That’s the way things go on my jerry-rigged blog. I think I am going to have an avocado smoothie today.

Stumbled across some old photos from my birthday in 2007, where we were fucking around in a cemetery (you know, the usual).

Henry stopped home from work just now to bring me an umbrella and when he saw these photos over my shoulder, he said, “Oh look, back when you and Chooch liked each other.” I laughed, but oh my god it’s so true you guys. We fight like sibs nowadays. (I’d like to note that Henry didn’t even comment on the fact that I have some religious cooking show on in the background. Because ironic viewing of religious programming is just as normal around here as eating cupcakes in a cemetery, I guess.)

I just said out loud, “The summer of 2007 was pretty awesome” but then pieces started rapidly plopping into place and I quickly changed my opinion on that matter.

In other news, I got mostly drunk at NOLA after work last night with Carey and scared the waitress off by shouting about rape. It was a pretty fantastic moment for me. Hopefully someday this week I will write about SOUL SKATE and the ginger bitch who tried to skate-fight me BUT LOST. It has been a crazy week. Crazy-good, but crazy. I need to make my brain stop spinning. I don’t know about you, but I’m about to get my hair all cut-up in TWENTY MINUTES, GOODBYE.

*(Why do I bother trying to be wordless? I mean, really.)

I couldn’t stop making this face on Sunday. I think the very idea of the Superbowl was electrocuting my facial muscles.

I STILL HAVE NO INTERNET! I have shit to do, Comcast, you fucks.

A/k/a: Elephant, Jesus, Golilla, Donagal, Puppy Time, and Pierre.

On the other side of the blog: There are 5 unanswered questions for Henry rotting in a draft. That’s the last time I ever pre-pay him for ANYTHING.

I’m still going apeshit over apples. I forgot to bring my 7pm apple to work the other night and was absolutely freaking out over it, so the next day, an anonymous apple was lounging on my desk. Turns out it was from Barb, who was wracked with guilt after she got my kid gloves and NOTHING for me.

I would shank an orphan for a cup of coffee, that’s how dependent I am on it. Yesterday, I met my oldest friend (not in the sense that she’s a 300-year-old vampire)  Christy for lunch at Pamela’s. She’s been perpetually late ever since I’ve known her (since we were 4!) but I still left my house on time because I wanted some goddamn coffee. I had already gone through most of a carafe by the time she arrived (she has an almost-3-year-old and 1-year-old twins; she’s allowed to be late, y’all).

Christy—who is also Chooch’s godmother—& I don’t see each other nearly enough but we always pick right back up. I don’t know why this was so funny to me, but she was talking about how she felt guilted into signing up for Build a Bear emails after her daughter built one, and now their updates are usurping her inbox. “I mean, how many bears is a person really going to build?” she said so earnestly that I had to put my head down because I was laughing so hard.

Let it also be known that she chose a Poor Henry pin with NO HESITATION.

This concludes another edition of Wordless Wednesday completely hijacked by my idiot words.