I spent a whopping $10 of my stimulus funding on this umbrella ring and it makes me fucking smile every time I glance down at it.

If you’re looking for cool stuff to spend your cash on, might I suggest Eggman Studios (purveyor of this awesome bumbershoot ring) and Lena Blue, who will make your head look all Victorian and shit.

And also, my dumb and gay paintings. Hahahahahaha.

Today, I took Chooch over my friend Jess’s. Usually I don’t have a car during the day, so whenever I go out with Chooch, Henry is with us too. But today was the day of Independence, so I loaded Chooch and all his shit in the car and after fifteen minutes of struggling with the car seat straps and retrieving all the shit I forgot in the house, we were finally ready to go.

We had to stop at CVS first to pick up some stuff for Jess. Apparently, Chooch is perfect when Henry takes him to the store. But with me, it’s always game time, so he was trying to get me to spin in circles and then wanted me to sit on the floor with him and he was pulling me in a trillion directions so I ended up having to hold him while we were in line and some old man was causing a ruckus over toilet paper and I was like, "Just pay for it, asshole, can’t you see I’m holding a eighty thousand pound toddler?"

After we left, I called Henry to tell him I appreciate him, because I can’t imagine being a single mom and having to do this shit on my own all the time. I get frazzled easily so I was nearly in tears, after struggling with the car seat again, and I think I ended the phone call by whimpering, "And I’m pretty sure his shoes aren’t on right." Pretty much the jokiest mother ever. Seriously, I’m useless. Unless it involves running around, screaming, and making up monster voices.

I even texted a heartfelt  "I<3u" to Henry again, out of desperation, and I think it had an effect on him because he bought me a new camera. Yes Henry, I’m keeping you. A proposal might be nice, too, though. Just a suggestion.

Jess just had a baby a week ago and named him Gavin. It was Chooch’s first time around a baby.  He was enrapt, confused, suspicious, annoyed, enamored all at once; his head was probably very near-explosion. Naturally, the first thing he did was go straight for the soft spot with his fist. He kept saying, "Baby!" and doing the sign for it. Then he was trying to tickle him, I think? I don’t know, but he was stabbing the baby with his finger and saying "diddle diddle" and it was weird. Usually, he puts up a good struggle when it comes time to have his diaper changed, but when he saw Jess changing Gavin’s diaper, he pulled me off the couch and said, "Uh-oh, pee" and patted his diaper. Then he layed down, willingly, on the floor, and remained calm and still while I changed him. If only it was always like that.

He started to get annoyed at the lack of attention, though. His remedy for that was standing on his head, slamming into walls, and performing a small sign language show for us. Then he would fall on purpose and say, "SOWWY!" Yes Chooch, we’re watching you. Yes Chooch, you’re amazing. I think it was his way of saying, "That baby is ok, but let’s not bring one home." Chooch, I just got my fat ass down to a size medium, so don’t worry: there are no babies in my future.

Urgent. Will die without reading.

• 15:56 Freaking out b/c Tina just announced she might be coming back to night shift, scabs and all. #
• 16:05 Tina’s shift switch hasn’t even been approved yet and I’m already clenching my jaw. BTW, my crown STILL hurts. #
• 20:18 currently experiencing the pap smear of all crushes. #
• 23:09 when traveling for a show i prefer to spend less on lodging, more on merch. evidently my bro isn’t down w/ a cheap motel room. owellz0rz #

Urgent. Will die without reading.

• 15:48 At our "hotel" which is really just a place where ppl come to have sex. #
• 15:49 Corey said it looks like a concentration camp. #
• 16:17 Domestic dispute in hotel parking lot. #
• 16:43 New jersey sucks. #
• 17:02 We’re eating at Pats Pizzeria: proudly boasting a satisfactory sanitary inspection. #
• 17:10 All that’s in this town are liquor stores, strip clubs and Pats Pizzeria. Usually would be happy but not in mood! #
• 18:12 Oh, aging goths. #
• 18:15 Coreys keeping a tally of how many dirty looks we’re getting standing in line at arena. #
• 18:44 In our seats laffing at ppl. Interpol is blaring over speakers, what a cliche choice for them. #
• 19:06 One minute into 65daysofstatic and I’m crying. #
• 19:20 Quite possibly oldest Cure fan in world just sat down in front of me. #
• 19:51 Spent so much $ already, might need to turn some tricks to finance the trip home. #
• 21:33 Some men should never dance #
• 23:47 Corey and I just realized that we probably look more suspicious than anyone else in the motel lot. #
• 00:53 Corey: thankfully this pillow has a clean side. #
• 08:32 There’s a massage parlour in this town called Back to Front. I don’t like it. #

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Urgent. Will die without reading.

• 15:33 Dear god, thank you for Gossip Girl. #
• 15:59 Sometimes I’m in the mood for slicing. Like now, I’m thinking of sharp blades and eyeing up my flesh. #
• 16:50 Christina and I just had one of those faggy ‘I appreciate you’ moments. I need a face-punch now. #
• 17:16 Bob just told me that when he first started working here, he thought I was 21. #
• 17:35 I’m not sure what this means but listening to Norma Jean makes me want to both have sex & go on a stabbing spree. Maybe stab whoever I’m fucking #
• 17:37 i swear i don’t have bones beneath my bed. #
• 20:04 i never hated the sound of scissors until i started working here. #
• 20:19 I should be a rapper based solely on my psychotic hatred for cops alone. #
• 20:20 i made myself so angry about cops the other night that i started laffing uncontrollably and henry was all "this is alarming, u know" #
• 22:16 Christina just said i’m acting like i showered in espresso and i am LAFFING at that. Laffing. Hahaha. OH BOY. #
• 08:39 I want christina to move in with us so I can play her and henry off each other. Win/win for me. #
• 10:06 The last time I felt like this I charged a $3000 business investment to my moms AmEx hahahahaha. #
• 10:46 Told Christina that Kennywood once had fastest roller coaster& she asked if it was named Erins Emotions. She’s funny sometimes #
• 12:00 Remember when I wanted to cut off my arm and keep it as a pet? Those were the days.#

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Enjoy a ‘movie’ Corey and I made back in 2001, when he was eleven and I was awesome. The pictures were taken with a Polaroid i-Pix and then Henry, whom I had just started dating and was trying always to impress me because I was so awesome remember and he was just dumb and old, was all, "I’m going to take over now and make it into something splendid because I have a new program that I want to play with." It’s very archaic.

Corey and I had to ask my mom to take some of the pictures and I remember she was all bent out of shape about it. "Can’t you see I’m playing spades?" I never thought I’d say this, but I yearn for those days now that she’s been swept up in the tide that is MySpace and YouTube.

Aside from that stupid photo shoot I did with him recently at my grandma’s, we really haven’t engaged in any antics in a long time. I think he got too cool for that or something, I don’t know. But I’m hoping at the very least this weekend we run into a creature of the night offering bananas.

Or at least a goth offering some cloves.

I’ve decided that I’m going to do community service.

Maybe read (my stories) to the blind. Take a group of retarded people bowling. Egg abortion protestors. Have sex with inmates. I just know that there’s some greater good I need to be doing. I can feel it in my heart.

IN MY HEART.

And then I’m hoping to recruit some of my charity cases into the army I’m assembling. This army will be trampling police officers, knocking over parking meters, and sticking gum on church doors. I also want to do some shit with knives, too.

Oh shit and I also want my army to moonlight as a hardcore cover band, with me as the lead screamer. We’ll play at pool parties and pet funerals.

I have lots of energy to burn.

Urgent. Will die without reading.

• 13:08 There’s little worse than a chatty gas man. #
• 17:06 Bob might get hot wings tonight. This is the most exciting thing I have to report right now. #
• 17:18 I might be the vainest person I know. #
• 18:41 at the rate my buttons have been getting pushed, i’m probably gong to start launching missles soon. step the fuck off. #
• 19:19 I hate it when Henry sends me pictures of him and Chooch enjoying life when I’m stuck in this vortex of insanity triggers. #
• 20:34 every time im due to get some $$$, something happens to the car. stimulus check —> repair broken-off side view mirror. #
• 23:14 Might try and provoke new cleaning guy to shank me. #
• 10:44 Following Henry in the car. I guess Professional Drivers don’t need to use turn signals. #

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Boy was it going to be the best year ever for Trudy Stufflebean. 1962 and Trudy was a perky blond girl of 23, she was going to ride her big boobs and blazing white smile all the way to the big city. 1962 and she was finally about to bust out of small town living, leave her family’s hog farm in a cloud of dust as she sped off on the back of her boyfriend’s Harley, black leather seat stuffed intimately into her crotch.

It was the summer of 1962 and Trudy could picture this, the twilight Harley getaway, as she sat atop a duffel bag overstuffed with hot pants and tube tops, hair spray and romance novels to be read under the dim lamplight of salacious highway motels.

1962 was going to be the last year that Trudy waded around up to her thighs in mucous-y muck, refilling the slop in the pig pen while defending herself from horny hogs intent on dry-humping her legs. 1962 and Trudy was going to escape her father’s cracking leather belt and her mother’s swatting wooded spoon and the town drunk’s unzipping pants.

Trudy’s boyfriend Earl was going to come and rescue her, he was going to whisk her away on the back of his Harley and they were going to start a new life in Las Vegas. Earl was going to be a croupier and maybe do some tattoos with the handmade gun he fashioned to emblazon his biker gang with the flaming knife insignia he designed. Earl was proud of that design, he sketched it one day off the top of his head when he was waiting for his daddy to come home from prison.

And Trudy, she was going to be a show girl. She knew all about jutting out her pelvis to make the men in the front row lick their lips. She was looking forward to wearing a real headdress, after practicing for a month with her father’s prized deer antlers, making sure to replace them on the wall when she heard the crunch of his tires on the lane as he returned home from the bar.

That summer night of 1962, Trudy sat on the porch for three hours waiting for the headlights of Earl’s bike to peek over the hill. But Earl never came. He ran off with Holga Swanson instead, because she stole five grand from her lawyer daddy and they ditched his hog for her Mustang convertible. Plus, Holga would touch his asshole with her tongue and didn’t crinkle her nose at the skid marks on his underwear like Trudy always did.

It is now 2008 and Trudy Stufflebean, who has inherited her family’s pig farm, has lost the perk in her boobs and the sparkle of her teeth have been masked by a yellowed veneer. Trudy still reads romance novels but no longer struts around in makeshift headdresses. Trudy’s head still snaps when she hears the revving of a motorcycle engine in the distance, she cries when she sees flaming knives; Trudy is still morally opposed to salad tossing. Trudy makes supplemental income by traveling to Wal-Marts, K-marts and Big Lots in the Heartland where she instructs teen girls on tampon insertion and she warns of the horrors of pelvic inflammatory disease — the closest she’ll get to thrusting a sequin-swathed pelvis. Trudy no longer wears hot pants but she still has a camel toe.

Trudy Stufflebean goes home at the end of a long day to replenish the slop in the troughs. Sometimes, Trudy eats some slop too, and no longer cares when the horny hogs hump her leg.

(Photo courtesy of my friend Angie.)

Urgent. Will die without reading.

• 10:03 When I vacuum, chooch gathers his valuables and sits in a corner, looking forlorn. I laugh. #
• 16:29 for some reason, i texted "i love you" to henry today. i feel weird now. #
• 18:22 My music doesn’t go as loud as I need it to right now, and it needs more rage. #
• 18:28 @spacecoaster somewhere, the Antichrist was born. #
• 22:35 Im pretty sure the new cleaning guy here was just let out of the state pen. #
• 23:09 i could really go for a rousing round of drunken and disorderly duck duck goose right about now. next game night, anyone? #
• 09:36 I need a good scandal in my life. #

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FUN FACT: In my twenty-eight years, I’ve been covered with ants on two separate occasions and on two separate limbs. I was not pleased either time.

My brother Corey and I are going to Philly this weekend to see the Cure and of course I’m completely unprepared. He keeps asking me all kinds of questions. Stupid questions, you know? Like:

Q: What time are we leaving?

A: I don’t know.

Q: Where are we staying?

A: I don’t know.

Q: What time does it start?

A: I don’t know.

Q: Where are our seats?

A: On a floor somewhere.

Q: How much money do I need?

A: A lot.

A few things of which I am certain:

1. I will be playing car DJ and Corey will have absolutely no say whatsoever in song selection. If I choose to listen to Yanni, Corey will snap his fingers and tap his fucking toes.
2. I will probably end up crying at some point during the show, even though I boldly claimed last week that I’m just not that into the Cure anymore.
3. I will be eating ridiculous cereal combinations at Cereality the next morning.
4. I will be home early enough on Mother’s Day in case my son wants to serve me cake and drape diamonds over my wrists.
5. I’ll be wearing a new Cure t-shirt to work on Monday.

I hope I remember to pack a change of underwear.

Urgent. Will die without reading.

• 10:55 Tried to make son delicious snack of baked pita with sugar/cinnamon. Epic fail. #
• 10:56 Unless of course delicious means burnt in some countries. #
• 13:34 Henrys eating my botched pita snack and is making pained expressions. #
• 16:53 This weekend I’m going to Philly to see the Cure & to have my mind explode trying to order 1 bowl of cereal at Cereality. #
• 16:54 Cereal makes me REALLY excited. THEYLL PUT POP ROCKS IN IT IF I WANT. #
• 19:50 Country should never ever be spelled kuntry. In case you were unsure. #
• 20:44 A cupcake just might be the only thing that could make me smile right now. (God, ok! My kid, too.) #
• 22:23 Just returned Cute Security Guard’s salutation with a demand for 35 cents. What? I had a dire need for peanuts. #
• 22:24 Then I apologized for being rude and he said he comes to expect as much from me. #
• 22:58 If my arms were made of rubber, I’d use them as a jumprope. Jumparms, as it were. #
• 09:08 Had another dream about getting shot but the gun was diamond-encrusted so I didn’t mind as much. #

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Urgent. Will die without reading.

• 16:28 Phil Mickelson #2!!! #
• 16:36 NO ONE fucks with Janna’s chicken parm. I’ll cut them. #
• 18:17 When Chooch says SIT, we sit. He scares us. #

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Or: Henry’s son Blake and my friend Sarah are good sports.

Blake wore a Chiodos shirt and I was happy.

At least I didn’t have to worry about their stilettos getting slurped into the mud.

Blake was atop a train for this and I was so nervous that a) he was going to fall; b) someone was going to see and call the cops. But then I was like, well, if he falls, maybe he’ll be knocked out long enough for me  to steal his Chiodos shirt.

"Sarah, I only see you once a year, but I’d love to take your picture." And she didn’t think it was weird at all, which is why we’re friends in the first place.

More Photos Here.

Urgent. Will die without reading.

• 17:45 Wish I was part of that class that wears sequined evening gowns even when eating a hotdog. Make mine veggie. #
• 17:55 Would rip out some of my teeth to be at Bamboozle right now. #
• 21:38 Banana pudding ice cream just fortified my will to live. #

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