Daisybones tagged me for a Random meme. I haven’t been tagged for anything in the blogworld outside of LiveJournal so it took me nearly a week just to discover that my blog is now a woman.

So I guess now here are 7 randoms about Erin Rachelle Kelly:

1. My favorite way to bond with someone is through music, and I often tend to be much closer with those people in the end.
2. I rarely “get over” things, people-wise, but I go through material obsessions like a bumblegum-popper fanning herself with BOP magazine.
3. I’m most content in fall, especially when sated with horror movies.
4. I once pole-vaulted with a hockey stick over a French kid.
5. I wear the same perfume I wore in high school.
6. No one makes me laugh harder than my kid.
7. Right now I am literally FEENIN’ for the Westmoreland County Fair.

OMG now I get to tag people.

• Andrea
• Ally
• Jessa

Fuck. I love this kid.

I’m not really too much of a neat freak. Anyone who’s been to my house can testify that there is clutter on top of clutter on the coffee table, painting shit & packing supplies all over the dining room table, and toys emerging from every furniture orifice. But the one thing that really gets under my skin is a messy-mess. Play-Doh, the way it leaves trails of little colored turds all over the house. Pudding, the way it never makes it into my son’s mouth and falls into wet puddles on his clothes and the floor. I know that I can clean him off when he’s done, but it’s excruciating for me to have to watch the mess unfold right before my obsessive-complusive eyes.

Yet for some stupid ass reason, I decided (OF MY ACCORD) to squirt some of my paint on a pallette, slide some canvas under Chooch’s nose, and let him go to town. It was funny, because he gingerly dunked his fingers in the yellow and then he kind of just stood there, watching me suspiciously, as if he was waiting for me to freak out that he had sullied himself with the Devil’s art supplies.

But I breathed in real good (Blue’s Clues taught us to stop, breathe and think. It works well for Chooch, but mostly I still want to slaughter a hamlet, collect the eyelids of the citizens for pinata stuffers, and steal their crops for one last kick in the nuts) and reassured him that it was not a trick, that I really wanted him to paint.

And paint he did, for a good hour. And while I feverishly ripped off great lengths of paper towels and stopped him every ten minutes to wipe him down, I was pretty proud of myself for letting him go at it without getting too tightly wound. (And I’m pretty tightly wound to begin with.) And I wasn’t even too stage-mom about it!

Doesn’t he look exhausted here? Like he’s my little Etsy sweatshop worker. MORE PURPLE, YOU LITTLE SHIT! MAMA WANTS AT LEAST $100 FOR THIS SO YOU BETTER MAKE THIS LOOK BETTER THAN A POLLACK!

As he would smear the paint into patterns, he’d walk me through his process.

“This is a road. And this is Kara, and she’s standing with Janna’s parents.” I would like to make a note that my friend Kara hasn’t lived in Pittsburgh for about a year and a half, and though Chooch barely sees her he still includes her in his stories and art. Even after she broke his heart by getting married last summer!  I’m not sure if she should be touched or terrified, to be honest. He’s also obsessed with peeing in Kara’s potty, so now I’m worried that he’s going to grow up to be a serial killer with a penchant for leaving his mark in the toilets of his victims.

“I can’t believe she’s not bitching at me for making a mess.”

He seemed to really consider where he wanted to place each color, which impressed me. He’s much more methodical about it than I am. I’m just kind of spastic. He’s going to be so much better than me at everything. (I hope, anyway. Mama wants a beach house.)

I was bored on Sunday so I did what any other bored person would do: called up a friend, stuffed a Ketchup-smeared box over her head and stuck her in creepy area plethoric with bad vibes, foreboding “no trespassing” signs slapped all over a boarded up church, homicidal rustling in the woods, and mysterious intonations of a drum circle wafting over train tracks.

Coulterville is my favorite place to go to take pictures because it has it all: train tracks, fields overgrown with weeds, desolate churches, haunted cemeteries, winding backroads, and menacing bikers watching from a doorway to a secret bar. And who doesn’t like the sensation of being watched from the woods while they’re crouched down, taking photos, expecting a one-eyed survivor of a chemical spill wielding a machete and a surgical kit to lunge out of a slipshod outhouse.

Alisha was all, “OK, hurry please ” because not only was she too afraid of getting disemboweled and strung up in a tree, but because ketchup apparently attracts bugs.

She just wants a hug, ya’ll.

She wasn’t just posing here. This was a real life cower-in-the-corner moment. It’s creepy there! There are signs everywhere reminding us that we’re being caught on tape.

There weren’t security cameras there last time,  and I’ll tell you why they put cameras in there now: because someone finally believes me that there is Satanic activity taking place inside that church. I swear to god I was there one night a long time ago and my friend Justin and I saw a whole pack of Satanists and we knew they were Satanists because they were BALD and SCARY. Just like the Bible says! (Right? No?) We left that night really, really, really quick and remember shouting at him, “I came here to see ghosts, not a fucking sacrifice, what the fuck Justin??” and he was trying to rationalize it by saying, “Maybe they’re just here to play Release?” But you know, it was 10 years ago so maybe I could have made up that dialogue.

She is so happy we reunited last February.

I wanted her to jump in the creek and pretend like she was washed away by the strong current. Seriously, that was no bubbling brook. It had been raining all day and the water was rushing over the rocks; it was loud and frightening. Which was why I wanted her in it. In the name of art, you know?

SOME MORE HERE.

Anyway, I’m looking for volunteers to create some tableux vivants. Just for fun, you know? Keeps me off the drugs. But for some reason, every time I ask for volunteers, people get all apprehensive? Start saying they’re busy that day? When I haven’t even mentioned a date!

(Seriously, if you’re local and interested, hit me up. In photos, not sex. Clothed photos, not sexy photos. I”m not quite there yet.)

[Ed.Note: I’m going to continue posting photos that are too wide for my blog until Henry finally, after promising for a year, fixes the narrowness. I would do it myself, but last time I tried to do anything more hardcore than uploading a picture or adding to my blogroll, I deleted the entire thing.]

Henry broke my blog. It makes writing things difficult. And replying to comments impossible. I’m not even sure if notification emails are going out because he changed plug-ins for that. Also, he broke my Outlook too. It’s amazing how disoriented two seemingly insignifcant changes can make a girl like me feel. Anyway, here have some stupid tweets.

• Henry broke my ability to reply to comments on my blog. I promise I’m not turning into one of those of those “too-good-to-reply” douchepies.30 minutes ago from TwitterBerry
• Henry likes watching the local news because there’s always a good chance someone will be speaking in his beloved double negatives.about 10 hours ago from TwitterBerry    
• Do not like it when random shooting sprees occur this close to home.about 11 hours ago from TwitterBerry
• Starting to get amped for the haunted house season. And by amped, I mean amputated. (Obviously.)about 23 hours ago from TwitterBerry     
• Proud mom moment: Chooch heard 10 seconds of the intro to the Cure’s “If Only Tonight…” & without me telling him, he whispered, “Robert.”9:05 AM Aug 4th from TwitterBerry     
• Chooch goes “look,one of those idiot guys” I’m like “?” Then I notice who he’s pointing @ & I have to learn him that it’s INDIAN not IDIOT.8:49 PM Aug 3rd from TwitterBerry     
• Henry erased my drawing on the board @ his office, despite my desperate pleas to preserve art. WHY HENRY WHY.8:28 PM Aug 3rd from TwitterBerry    
• Chooch on the current: watching Ferris Bueller and eating chicken nuggets with a spork.12:49 PM Aug 3rd from web     
• My first Etsy Dark Team Freaky Feature is @MrsEvils! Please go check it out, she’s fabulous! http://bit.ly/VcJUe12:26 PM Aug 3rd from AddToAny
• RT @craigeryowens: HELP ME POST MY 1ST SOLO TRACK!!! It’ll be posted the moment #CraigOwensEpSept15th reaches a spot in trending topics. RT!11:48 AM Aug 3rd from UberTwitter     
• Hey did you know that Steelers training camp is going on? I think I might have heard something about that. 56325685 million somethings.6:07 AM Aug 3rd from TwitterBerry
• Thinking about my pressing need for a German amputee is obviously more important than sleeping at this point.5:34 AM Aug 3rd from TwitterBerry     
• Glad to have impromptu Wolf Creek flashbacks (which I haven’t even seen in over 3yrs) as I’m trying to fall asleep. A+ ending to the day!1:36 AM Aug 3rd from TwitterBerry  
• FUCK MY EMAIL. And fuck Blogathon for making me and my sponsors jump through goddamn hoops.12:23 AM Aug 3rd from web
• http://twitpic.com/ckwmd – I not tired! I not.9:27 PM Aug 2nd from TwitPic     
• Shit, every time I leave for the day, Henry has a dinner party. So the sink tells me, anyhow.9:17 PM Aug 2nd from web     
• Alisha’s neighbor is grilling animal and it’s blowing RIGHT ON ME.6:53 PM Aug 2nd from TwitterBerry     
• All mirrors should be as flattering as the one in this Taco Bell bathroom.5:55 PM Aug 2nd from TwitterBerry
• Alisha and I created no less than 4 murder scenarios for ourselves today. (So far.)5:53 PM Aug 2nd from TwitterBerry     
• @Citizen_Lazlo I’m only allowed to use butter knives.1:17 PM Aug 2nd from TwitterBerry     
• WordPress can suck a dick today.1:13 PM Aug 2nd from TwitterBerry     
• Me: “Why does Chooch get a bird’s eye for breakfast & I just get a regular egg??” Henry: “Because he’s 3 and you’re 30.” Not a good excuse.11:57 AM Aug 2nd from web     
• Hay look @ the dumb! ben franklin’s big debut: Since last fall, I’ve been a prou.. http://bit.ly/3fLYp11:34 AM Aug 2nd from twitterfeed     
• Or at least added some floral arrangements to their gaping eye sockets.12:59 AM Aug 2nd from TwitterBerry     
• Maybe my dining room wouldn’t look so messy if I got rid of the decomposing bodies slumped around the table.12:58 AM Aug 2nd from TwitterBerry     
• Hay look @ the dumb! The Giglife Tour: All I wanted for my birthday was to go to the Giglife.. http://bit.ly/3yJdMy11:37 PM Aug 1st from twitterfeed     
• My mom was spouting off her conspiracy theories again today. I hung up on her & now she’s back in the ER. I can’t handle this. At all.8:17 PM Aug 1st from TwitterBerry    
• “Hooked on a Feeling” is on now, and its Henry’s turn to feel nostalgic. For prom. Because he’s old, get it.7:16 PM Aug 1st from TwitterBerry     
• Eating coleslaw at Blue Flame while “You’re the Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me” plays, I flashbacked to my childhood & am now sad.7:14 PM Aug 1st from TwitterBerry    
• http://twitpic.com/cftv1 – Henry wants everyone to know that he never had to slide his glasses down to read until I broke them.7:01 PM Aug 1st from TwitPic     
• Holy shit, Henry’s taking me to dinner for my birthday. I can’t remember the last time that happened!4:56 PM Aug 1st from TwitterBerry     
• Weekends mean I can have tomato on my sandwich. (Because Henry’s home to slice that bitch for me.)12:37 PM Aug 1st from TwitterBerry     
• I wonder who my mother had to antagonize all those months when I wasn’t speaking to her.11:05 AM Aug 1st from TwitterBerry     
• Chooch fell off a rocking chair & it landed on top of him like a cage. It was a good look for him.8:27 PM Jul 31st from TwitterBerry    
• I’m the 1st positive drug test result in all the years my manager has been at FedEx; he doesn’t know how to proceed. GLAD IT COULD BE ME!!!4:59 PM Jul 31st from TwitterBerry     
• I feel like I’m in a Degrassi episode right now. I wish I had Emma and Manny here to help me clear my name!4:57 PM Jul 31st from TwitterBerry    
• Hey, you know what’s awesome? Testing positive for marijuana when you haven’t smoked pot in about 10 years.2:41 PM Jul 31st from TwitterBerry     
• So flattered to have one of my appledale photos included in this Photographers of Etsy post: http://tinyurl.com/nftl2r1:14 PM Jul 31st from web     
• http://twitpic.com/c9dzb – Ramen time.12:13 PM Jul 31st from TwitPic     
• The fact that I slept with a bunch of blocks under my pillow makes me think that maybe I’m really NOT a princess. Shoot.9:13 AM Jul 31st from TwitterBerry
• Henry J. Robbins: is not OK, ever, with his girlfriends cuddling with other dudes on a hammock. Just say no to hammock-play.12:05 AM Jul 31st from TwitterBerry      

Today is awesome. I’ve experienced blog malfunctions, where entire drafts that I had been working on upward of three hours were vaporized and other drafts were posted prematurely and god only knows how many emails my poor subscribers received. And then Henry did something, one of those things that Henry does, and my entire blog disappeared and I’m doing the hot coal dance behind him while he’s very unconvincingly monotoning, “It’s OK. It’s still there. I know….exactly…what I….did.” So I had to leave. I went out with Alisha and took some super-stupid pictures of her wearing a bloody box on her head. And for awhile, you know, I felt OK, like I maybe might not DIE if my blog was eaten.

Then I come home to find that Blogathon sent out the emails to my sponsors and the link to donate was cut off. It’s too late to change it. So I emailed everyone and fucking Outlook decided it would look more urgent if it was sent THREE TIMES.

And all I wanted to do was go to bed! BUT NO. The computer had to come back and challenge me to another duel.

Just stupid shit. The kind of stupid shit that is so annoying yet so trivial that it’s not worth getting all worked up over but STILL – GOOD GODDAMN did I want to break some expensive Lalique today.

The outcome of all of this is that I look like a nice ripe retard, hooray!

(Seriously, my apologies to those of you who got inbox-raped by me today. WTF.)

Since last fall, I’ve been a proud member of the finest damn street team on Etsy: Etsy’s Dark Side.

There are hundreds are insanely talented and fascinating artists over there and it has been such a great experience getting to know some of them and just overall being affiliated with such a tight web (har har) of Etsiers. In an effort to give back, I decided to start writing features on individual members and I knew immediately who I wanted to inaugurate this budding venture: my friend Andrea of Mrs.Evils fame.

A few months back, I had mentioned Chooch’s (random) obsession with Ben Franklin and Andrea, because she is seriously amazing and thoughtful, took it upon herself to whip up a zombified Ben Franklin plushie.

Chooch of course loves it, and I think she should make one of every president.

I know at least four people who would snatch up an Abe Lincoln faster than it took that bullet to tear through his flesh.

Look for Andrea’s feature tomorrow, right here on this here bloggie-blog!

All I wanted for my birthday was to go to the Giglife show Wednesday night at Mr. Smalls. It was mostly to see Set Your Goals but Grave Maker, The Swellers, Fireworks, and Four Year Strong were also on the bill. I had spent most of the day helping Alisha move into her new apartment (conveniently located five minutes from me so now when I need to run away and find myself without a car, I can just WALK to her apartment and throw rocks at her window like I used to do to my friend Lisa in high school, what?) and to be fair, she did way more work than I did (is anyone shocked) so I was expecting her to say she didn’t want to go.

BUT SHE WENT and hoo-boy did she have a stellar time!

A breakdown of the bands and what I thought, because my opinion is surely what will make or break them:

• Grave Maker: LOVED IT. Like, goosebumps-sprouting-on-my-arm loved it. It was the best stress-reliever, all that bass and shouting and mad testosterone filling the air. If I was a dude, I’d have murdered someone in the circle pit. But as it is, I’m a wimpy little girl so I did my best to avoid the pit and stay unbloodied. Although, my t-shirt would have probably looked hot with some rips in it.

  Alisha said she liked the music, but that every song sounded the same. I served her with friend-divorce papers after that.

  Also, during their set is when I began to question if I locked the car doors or not.

• The Swellers: according to my tweets, they were friendly on the ears, but they bored me a little. And obviously they weren’t memorable if I ha dto check my tweets to remember my opinion. They were Alisha’s favorite. I think probably because this was when her boyfriend, affectionately dubbed Jolly Green Giant, stood directly in front of her and barricaded her view.

    By this point, every time I thought about the possibility of my car being unlocked, the blood would rush to my face and I would tug at my collar a little.

• Fireworks: Straight up pop-punk. They were fun and I could think of worse ways to waste time before Set Your Goals finally took the stage, but occasionally the singer sounded me a little bit like Isaac from Children of the Corn. This was around the time the big circle jerk began for Grave Maker. Evidently, it was their last night on the tour and every band made the hugest deal about it. I’ve been to A L OT of shows and have never experienced that level of ego-massaging. The boys in Grave Maker must give amazing reach arounds. 

Music aside, I had some complaints about Fireworks: THEY TALKED TOO MUCH. And it was all inside joke bullshit, like we were supposed to stand there in awe and wish that we had even an iota of a clue what they were talking about. And what was infuriating to me was how they started talking like it was the end of their set after the third song, so I was getting my hopes up. “Oh goodie, Set Your Goals time!” And then they’d play two more songs, thank Grave Maker again, play another song, give a shout out to the other bands, dedicate the next song to Grave Maker, ramble incoherently in an auctioneer’s voice, play a thirty second song. When it finally was their last song, I didn’t believe them.

Their songs didn’t keep my mind from wandering back to my car and wondering if it had been jacked yet. Or towed, because did I park in a legal spot? Did I? Why couldn’t I remember?  What if my car gets towed?

(In between sets, “Spooky” by Classics IV came on the soundsystem and I got so amped. I shouted, “Oh shit, it’s my JAM” and then I was pantomiming along to it and pointing in Alisha’s face and for some reason, she DID NOT LIKE THAT AT ALL. She told me to get away from her and I cried a little, but really I think it was just from sweat getting in my eyes. It was awesome, spending the whole day sweating and then voluntarily going to a crowded venue to sweat some more.)

• Set Your Goals!: Oh my word, they were just so amazing. They opened with “This Will Be the Death of Us” and I wanted to elbow Alisha in the ribs because that is my universal sign for “OMG I’M SO EXCITED AND I JUST CAN’T HIDE IT” but we made eye contact right before my elbow touched base and the look on her face alerted me to the fact that perhaps I should keep my hands to myself. She was standing in that prime spot that every show has which acts as the entrance to the circle pit. Sweaty guys kept shoving past her, sliming her arm with their glandular juice. At one point, she was feeling generous enough to transfer some to my arm, too. It was like a bonding moment, I think.

Apparently, there was some gigantic ogre who was windmilling in the pit, causing everyone to rush backward into Alisha. I remained unscathed because I was more on the side,   against the divider wall for the bar area. Alisha did not find that amusing at all, and she really hated the guy in front of me, too. She said she wanted to punch him in the back of the neck. I myself found him to be quite adorable.

In fact, the only problem I had all night was when some doofus shoved him way through thr crowd, only to plant his lame ass right in front of me, and then proceed to look around like he was lost. And when I say “right in front of me,” I mean that his back was flush with my front. I could see each individual bead of sweat glistening among his albino pubed head. But I mean, it’s a show; people are bound to snake their way up closer and stand in front of you. Whatever. But please don’t stand so close that if I were a dude, my penis would totally be pressed against your ass. He was so close that our body heat was beginning to fuse together, making it at least 15 degrees hotter where I was standing. On some planets, I might have been impregnated by that point. THAT IS HOW UNCOMFORTABLY CLOSE TO ME HE WAS. Luckily, his thirteen-year-old girlfriend turned around and caught me scowling, so she tugged him away. He wasn’t even watching the band!

Shit goddamn, was their set high-energy. I wanted to repeatedly punch a wall. Or a nun’s crotch. And I didn’t think about the car dilemma once.

• Four Year Strong:  I was looking forward to seeing them headline. Their set was also high-energy and very pleasing. I really felt a strong alliance with the keyboardist, Josh Lyford, who was totally hardcore and busted out amazing jumps.

(NOT MY PICTURE, OBVS! It’s that Dan Lebo guy’s.)

 Alisha was all, “Yeah, he was cool, but I liked that dude with the beard” and I was like, “Shut up, you’re stupid” and then she cried.

 However, at that point, the silent hysteria regarding the car was building up and by now, I had  made a mental list of who I could call to pick us up in fifteen minutes when I   discovered a vacant spot on the street that once cradled my sad Focus.

Luckily, Alisha wasn’t about lingering around after the show to get her breasts autographed, because I think it’s safe to say that the day’s events had thrown its final blow and we were both completely exhausted. And thirsty. And hungry. So we left and as we walked down the street, I filled her in on the swishing turmoil that I had dealt with during the entire show. “Um, well, your car’s right there,” she said. I cheered, and then we went to Taco Bell. The best way to end a great stress-relieving pre-birthday night.