The day after Christmas, we visited Speck’s grave. Of course, none of the roadside places selling grave wreaths were open, so Henry had to run into a grocery store and grab some cut flowers, which is a no-no in cemeteries between November & March, but it would feel weird if we actually did things the proper way.
It made me feel better to have something on her grave, but my god did I cry a lot.
Merry Christmas, Speck. :(
We went to Ogelbay, WV two weekends ago with Tommy and Jessy for the Festival of Lights. I’m not really all that into Christmas, but I do enjoy looking at lights. It makes me feel happy, and it was a healthier alternative to sitting at home and mourning the death of my cat. Tommy and Jessy really cheered me up, and Tommy even bought me some buttered popcorn Jelly Bellys, after teasing me mercilessly as he’s known to do.
Jessy kept making Tommy stop the truck so she could take pictures and he was getting so irritated, which made me even happier.
My favorite part though was when Tommy reached into the backseat to squeeze Chooch’s leg, who had been antagonizing him.
“Um Tommy, you know that’s my leg, right?” Henry said quietly, and I detected a distinct thrill in his reaction. Totally solidified their bromance.
We finished up the night with candy from the gift shop and I felt like a little kid.
Went to visit my friend Nina today before she returns to work from maternity week. Her little baby Quentin is 7 weeks old and nearly made me want to open a baby factory in my uterus. And Nina looked great; I don’t remember looking so together and clean when Chooch was 7 weeks old. In fact, I think I was still rocking in a corner, moaning incoherently about my incision pain. Child birth was a huge, black TRAUMA on the map of my life.
After I had been there for, oh I don’t know, AN HOUR, I asked, “Can I hold him? I just want to see if I remember how.”
“Of course you can, fool!” she laughed. And then I juggled him awkwardly for a good long minute before passing him back over.
The furnace guy arrived right before I left.
“Are you the furnace guy?” Nina asked as she held open the door for him to pass through.
“Nina! You’re not supposed to ask that! He’s supposed to tell you who he is on his own!” I laughed, knowing full well I would have either done the same thing or ran upstairs and hid under the bed while he continued to knock and then I would obsessively wonder if I remembered to lock the door. Way to give the next Ted Bundy easy access, Nina.
“Hi, I’m the furnace guy,” the supposed furnace guy dead-panned, already in the house at this point. He didn’t look as creepy as that furnace fucker who comes to my house, so I felt confident in my decision to leave her there alone with him.
Fuck. I hope she’s OK.
On the way home, I called Henry.
“How’d your baby date go?” he said mockingly.
“Well, I’m still weird around babies, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I didn’t think that would change,” he scoffed.
Chooch’s class is going to Heinz Hall today for some little kid symphony bullshit and guess who’s a chaperone? This stupid bitch. So instead of finally writing about jury duty and the last of the haunted houses (celebrating my blog’s birthday all last week really fucked shit up), I’ll be trudging down the street with a pack of screaming kids, riding in a trolley with a pack of screaming kids, and then sitting through a (shortened, thank god) symphony with a pack of (hopefully not screaming at this point) kids.
Then I get to come home, turn around and go right back downtown for work.
THIS IS PUTTING A SERIOUS DAMPER ON MY LADY OF LEISURE ITINERARY.
While I’m doing that, you should enter my giveaway.
Peace out, girl scout.
I don’t feel like writing about Halloween just yet, so here are some iPhone pictures of Chooch in costume. His least favorite part was when I slathered on lipstick and kissed his cheek.
This costume cost $0.00.
Thank god it’s Wordless Wednesday because I’m being tortured slowly by fuckerbitch allergies. Anyway, here is a scan of a photo from when I met The Cure in Canberra, Australia back in 2000.
Someday maybe I’ll tell that story on here.
But not today.
Definitely one of the Top 5 Moments of my life; but right now, at this moment, I’d be happy with just meeting The Cure for allergies.
(I’m the girl on the left with the long, stupid hair; not the man in the doorway, tonguing himself.
)
FRANCIS! in the lefthand corner.
There was a rainbow at work last week. It’s hard to get work done when there is a rainbow taunting you from outside.
Not that I need anymore excuses to distract me from work.
Henry likes his weeners like he likes his women: short ‘n fat.
Chooch has lived in a houseful of animal masks since he was a baby, so stuffing a pig mask on his head in the middle of summer ain’t no thang. But when he saw that Kara’s not-quite-2-year-old son Harland was less than tickled with his new porky visage, it became a calculated game in torture and torment.
It’s probably for the best that I’m not giving him a younger sibling; the way he antagonizes other children makes me see so much of myself in him.
Henry is right: we are so similar it’s more alarming than cute.
Pretty much everything this week will be “[ ]: Warped Tour Edition” because I just lived my favorite day of the year last Friday. So either pretend you care or come back next week, I guess. I know, it sucks. But I’m just so happy, you guys!
Waiting for the doors to open. I make Henry get there super early every year because I have anxiety ever since the time in 2007 I relied on some douchebag (read: ex-bff Christina’s retarded sister) to get there on time, which we did not and I missed motherfucking CHIODOS, whose set time was the same time the doors opened. I still have horrible flashbacks to that day.
Of Mice & Men are one of the few bands I’ll fight to get up front for at my old age.
One of the cool things about Warped Tour is walking past a stage and being pleasantly surprised by the hiphop you hear. Grieves with Budo were a high-point of the day.
As close as we could get to A Day To Remember, but I didn’t care. Having 90% of the crowd at one stage just opened up a bunch of other opportunities for us.
See this post to see how THAT worked out.
I keep wanting to write my actual post about Warped Tour but then I get sidetracked with watching videos from it on YouTube. I’m in denial.
I dragged Henry and Chooch to the Reptile Expo at the Washington County Fairgrounds (worst fairgrounds ever) on Saturday specifically to search for a Pacman frog. I’ve had two in the past (RIP Hubert & Gustav) and have felt the urge to mother a new one. They used to be available in local pet shops but I hadn’t seen any in awhile.
As soon as I saw this one, I knew he was mine. The neon blue dart frogs didn’t have SHIT on this guy. I paid the guy and we left after being there for only 15 minutes. Poor Janna, she drove all the way out there to meet us only for me to say, “OK, got ’em! See you!” And in the parking lot, Chooch decided for everyone that he was going to go home with Janna, so I was like, “Have fun, guys!” and Henry and I quickly left the parking lot before Janna or Chooch changed their minds.
Later that day, we went to Petsmart to get some accoutrements for FRANCIS!’s new abode (which would be much more pimped out if Henry hadn’t vetoed 99.9% of what I wanted to buy) and of course they had a Pacman frog for sale there. Same price, but not nearly as majestic as my babe.
Anyway, all that has nothing to do with my new babe, FRANCIS! (That’s how it’s spelled, all caps and an exclamation mark, and said in an angry, hoarse whisper a la Pee Wee’s Big Adventure.) FRANCIS! has been doing well, loving his new digs (as much as I can tell from his stagnant expression), chowing on crickets. Surprisingly, Chooch hasn’t been shoving his hands in the tank like I suspected he might. I think I successfully scared him by telling him about how Hubert (who I used to sneak into high school with me) used to latch on to my fingers, mistaking them for sausage.
FRANCIS! is a real mama’s boy. I think I might take him to work today.
My favorite carny!
Corey didn’t know there was a slide.
Filthy feet at the fair.
Sorry guys. I just really love the fair.
