Earth-shattering updates throughout the day, brought to you by Tart-Tits. Please try to continue breathing while taking it all in.

• 14:38 Naked without my Olson twin sunglasses. Squinting like a fucking mole. #
• 14:40 Going back to the Butler County Fair. Double rainbow all the way! #
• 16:49 OMG I SAW KIRK AND ANDREW #
• 19:26 Henry loses all value of the dollar at the fair. I wish I could fiscally unclench long enough to do the same. #
• 19:27 Just want to say a solid thank you to Alisha for pointing out all th deformaties at the fair today. #
• 19:52 Just had to have a convo with a mom AND NOW SHE IS SITTING WITH US WHAT. #
• 19:53 And she just very passively bummed a cigarette from Alisha. She’s said “yinz” 12x so far. #
• 20:00 Lol mom convo twitpic.com/2478f4 #
• 20:10 Now my brother Corey and his gf are here encouraging the awkwardness. #
• 21:56 Goodbye Butler County Fair, you sexy double rainbow bitch. #
• 22:29 A difference btwn Chooch & me: he wants to rip his event wristband off ASAP upon departure; I wear mine til it disinte grates, then I cry. #
• 23:08 My Warped Tour photos, if anyone gives a shit: www.flickr.com/photos/rowdyruby/sets/72157624451547564/ #
• 23:55 It’s against Henry’s religion to laugh at anything I say or write. But he will always laugh every time I fall down the steps. #

• ---

• 11:15 Chooch just made me put earplugs in his ears so he can go upstairs to use the bathroom while Henry is vacuuming. Issues. #
• 11:23 I found my first ever Internet friend, circa 1998, on Facebook and I think my ecstatic message creeped her out. #
• 11:49 Being in Hartford with properly fitted pants, a girl can dream. #
• 13:05 Pissed ppl off at a red light; apparently they don’t appreciate the soul splitting screams of Miss May I. :( #
• 13:22 A super old lady just plopped down next to me on a bench & I’m fighting the urge to stop breathing. #
• 13:23 OH SHE TOTALLY FARTED WHEN SHE STOOD UP TO LEAVE WTF WHY ME. #
• 13:34 At Panera with a girl I haven’t seen in 14 years. Amazing. #
• 17:08 In catching up with Jessy, she asked if I’m still “really clumsy.” Yes, and my clumsiness comes in new flavors now too. #
• 17:14 And then I cried while telling her about Warped Tour. Slap me. #
• 20:05 Yo, it’s a BLOG BASH, double rainbow all the way!: Hi! Apparently this is a Blog Bash! I’m not very social in the … bit.ly/dbtadb #
• 20:26 Fran on Hell’s Kitchen looks like she’s a Seth MacFarlane creation. #
• 20:29 Wish I was there, so badly:( RT @VansWarpedTour The sky looks rad! twitpic.com/24j2pc #
• 20:48 I’m so much of a loser, I’m a looser. #
• 23:55 The Phil Mickelson Rolex commercial is SO INTENSE OMG. (Like a double rainbow, but you knew that.) #

• ---

  Read more

The morning of the fair, I panicked a little about what to eat for breakfast. I knew that I wanted to ride everything, all the day, all the time, possibly two rides at once if Alisha was bringing her cauldron and spell book. But I didn’t want to wind up puking like Blake did that one time. In the end, I eschewed the hemlock-laced trucker’s breakfast Henry was plating inside a tire, and wound up forcing down a small bowl of cereal instead.

“Let’s pace ourselves,” I said as we entered the gates to the fair that day. Ride all day passes were $20 (ours were $15 because Alisha bought them online before July 1, she’s such a savvy coupon clipper) and I wanted to be sure we woke up the next morning with safety-bar grooves indented into our flesh and a gaping anal wound, a good sign of us getting our money’s worth. But that wouldn’t happen if one or both of us wound up disgorging our breakfast and life matter after three rides.

We had our favorites, that’s for sure.

• Mind Blaster: This was more Alisha’s jam, but I think what she really liked were the exaggerated faces of horror I flashed toward her during the ride. I have two things fighting for ‘least favorite’ position: a) it’s too short of a ride, and b) all three times we rode it, I wound up sitting next to an empty seat and getting pelted by the unbuckled seat belt. So instead of bracing myself against the collarbone-cracking oscillations, I was too busy shielding my kneecaps from whipping belts.

• Freak Out: Oh, this ride is a hobofucker! For our inaugural trip, Alisha and I were the only ones riding it.
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  It wasn’t so bad at first! Kind of like riding on a giant backyard swing set. But then I realized it was only swinging back and forth lethargically at first because it was gaining MOMENTUM and suddenly we were shot up into the sky. I guess I didn’t pay much attention when we were spectating from the ground earlier, because I failed to notice the point where it pendulates you up so high that your back is parallel to the Heavens and your face is staring point blank at all these things that seemed so harmless when you were on the ground but now they are nothing more than death instruments and now suddenly you’re wishing there were more concession stands over by the Freak Out to better your odds of landing on a trampoline of Kool-smoking muffin tops.  You better believe I was screaming like I had Bieber Fever while playing keep away from Ben Roethlisberger’s  protruding dick in the bathroom of some shitty Georgia night club. In fact, my screams  were of such Tobe Hooper audition tape  quality that the ride began to slow down. “I think I made it stop!” I laughed to Alisha, who had kept an empty seat between us in case one of us began to bleed out. “What?” she yelled over pulsating club beats of Usher. “I think I made them stopppppppp—-” and then that motherfucker sped up again in a DIFFERENT DIRECTION and let me tell you, the first round was basically when your brave boyfriend is feeling out your asshole with the tip of his cock. There’s pain, but then you’re like, “Well, this isn’t too bad I guess” and then he plunges right the fuck in with the whole goddamn shaft, giving an entirely new meaning to the experience. There was one point, as I was flung backward, where I saw my bowels exit my body and suspend in a frozen Karate move in front of me. I had a cold sweat when the ride was over. BUT IT WAS FUCKING GREAT, YOU GUYS! Just like anal.

The Zipper  is too awesome for bullet points.

Alisha had never been on the Zipper before and I was so excited to corrupt her. I got Henry to go on it once. He wasn’t really paying much attention I guess when we stood in line because he believed me when I swore, “Oh, this doesn’t go upside down.”

Alisha and I hate our lives so much that we rode it three times that day. The first time, I spent the entire ride fucking with the camera, trying to figure out how to get it to record. This meant that I wasn’t holding on. There are two ways I know this:

1. Alisha kept screaming I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE NOT HOLDING ON.
2. I slammed my head off the metal grating of the cage enough times to do some damage, which I think is why I tried to eat my porridge out of the commode the next morning.

And then something absolutely horrific happened. We’re suspended something like A LOT of feet in the air, smashed into a cage that’s spinning faster than Sybil on sugar cubes, when something FELL.

All I knew was that it was orange and it was a vital piece to the safety latch of the cage, thusly, we were frozen Looney Toon-style, mid-air, waiting for Satan to snap his fingers.

I’m screaming, “WE’RE GOING TO DIE, WE’RE GOING TO FUCKING DIE, THIS IS IT!

I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS HOW I’M GOING OUT, I HAVEN’T EVEN EATEN SUSHI OFF A NAKED BITCH YET” and then as I paused to swallow a gulp of Butler County air, I caught the tail end of Alisha yelling, “—my fucking phone! That was  my brand new fucking phone!”

Oh how I embraced life at that very moment. I laughed like Alisha’s phone was a fucking double rainbow and then sobbed a little and then laughed harder.

IT WAS JUST HER STUPID PHONE! Not the world’s orangest bolt. Unfortunately, Alisha didn’t share my same relief because she had just literally got that phone the day before. I was able to clamp it down under my foot to ensure it didn’t get ejected from a carnival ride that makes the Iron Maiden look like a foot massager. So then my trip on the Zipper became REALLY fun and purposeful.

My foot actually cramped from the urgency of which I was pinning down her phone.

Alisha said the second time we rode that other asshole ride, Freak Out, the guy next to her was texting the entire time. I don’t think I would have been able to save his phone too.

I like this photo because you can see Alisha holding on for dear life in the reflection of my sunglasses; meanwhile I’m like, “Just another afternoon on the yacht with Brody Jenner and Kristen Cavalleri, ya’ll.” I hate this photo because it was taken with the SHITTY CAMERA, you guys. I promise, I have a nose.  That Leno chin is real, though.

The second time we rode it, I recorded the entire trip. It’s over three minutes of me swearing, screaming, and saying “Oh my God” in a way that was meant to be filled with crisis but came off sounding like I’m orgasming. This particular go-around felt much more violent than the first one! There was one point where our cage somersaulted a good 10-12 times with no relenting.

“That’s what sex must sound like on a crashing plane,” I muttered to Alisha as we stumbled out of the cage and crossed ourselves post-haste.

Alisha, on the swings with her precious phone that I basically died for.

We rode one last time before we left, because KIRK was at the helms and I kept promising we’d be back to bunch up our lives in his hands like cum-covered panties.

Oh my god, this was me after riding the Zipper at the same fair in 1998! And I keep coming back for more torture. There’s a term for that. I think it’s called “Katy Perry fan.”

It’s that time of year, you guys! Blogathon time!

This year, the masterminds behind the official Blogathon have pulled the plug on it, quite unexpectedly and without explanation. Luckily, there are people out there unlike me who are good at rising to the occasion and taking charge. So there will be an alternate Blogathon after all! It will still take place on Saturday, July 31st, starting at 9:00am EST and ending twenty-four hours from then. The goal is to every half hour for the entire twenty four hours, no cheating!

I have done this three times in the past and while it is a BEAST to get through, it’s more fun than anything else, and the end result is so rewarding, even for assholes like me. I always want to be able to donate to charities, to do SOMETHING to make a difference, and annoying the Internet for an entire day is a pretty Erin-perfect way to do so.

This year, I have chosen the Greater New Orleans Foundation Oil Spill Relief Fund. Since there is no official Blogathon site to keep track of sponsors, and to give you guys peace of mind, I have created a fundraising page over at Razoo. This way, you can rest easy knowing that if you sponsor me, the money isn’t going to be put in a Wacky Worm collection pot.

As always, there will be incentives!

• $10 – you give me a word, any word, and I have to use it in an entry
  
• $15 – the aforementioned word to be used in an entry, plus the fan favorite: Have Henry Do Ridiculous Things In Front of the Camera
  
• $20 – all of the above, plus I’ll prank call someone for you
• $30 – all of the above, plus one of my Somnambulant pendants (if you’re a dude, I will just paint something for you if you prefer)
• anything greater than this, you get it ALL plus I will interview you on my blog. That’s >30 seconds of fame right there!

And remember – if you can’t donate at this time but would still like to help me, please remember to check back here on Saturday July 31st and leave me cheerleading-worthy comments! And tell your friends and family! Or, if you don’t have friends and family, tell your cell mate, parole officer, interpreter.

If you would like to sponsor me, please visit my Razoo fundraising page!

To get a taste of what Blogathon is like ’round these parts, feel free to check out the archive from last year. It’s um, a real treat. For everyone involved. Right, Henry? (For the record, Henry said he’s moving out for Blogathon.)

This entry has no rides in it.

We were on our way to the petting zoo when my life changed forever.

“You girls want a free keychain?” An old man in suspenders and a trucker cap was hunched over arthritically beneath a tent, dangling a beaded keychain. He could have been dribbling an atomic bomb and I would have approached him; the declaration of something being “free” gets me every time. Plus, he was only wearing suspenders and a trucker cap, remember. I love eldernudes.

The keychain wasn’t yet in my hand when Alisha became painfully aware of what was really happening.

“Oh OK, yeah. No thanks,” she said haughtily, veering abruptly away from the tent.

He was church people. Inside the small tent, other church people had stuffed innocent fair-goers into folding chairs and were working Jesus-spells upon their wallets. I turned around and found that Alisha had already been swallowed to safety by the 4H tent.

“Would you like to learn the meaning behind the keychain?” the old man asked in a voice quaking with age.

No, I didn’t really want to. But I still found myself saying, “Yes, please.” Old people. The men ones especially. They goddamn get me every time! Plus, he was from the Living Word Evangelical Free Church, and I didn’t think I’d ever had my Evangelical cherry popped. Hey Mormons, you don’t own me, OK?

So I stood there under this low tent, sweat rolling down my back, feigning interest in these plastic beads that are supposed to represent various parts of Jesus’s anatomy or something, I don’t know. He went slowly through each colored bead, taking the time to explain things like “purity” because it doesn’t take much more than a cursory glance to see that I’m missing that in my life.

I had a feeling the black bead was going to represent “sin,” so when he gripped it between his thumb and forefinger I interrupted him with an obnoxious “Ooooh, ooooh!” hand raise, and he reluctantly let me guess. And I was right! Obviously that’s something I know a lot about.

“Do you have religion in your life?” he asked, eying me up behind his dirty bi-focals.

I can’t remember the exact lie I blurted out, but I know it was strung together with anxious stutters and guilty eye-flickering, like it was God himself in front of me and not some half-crippled liver-spotted church recruiter.

“Well, do you believe you’re going to Heaven?” he asked.

“Um, I hope so?”

“You better KNOW so!” and his laugh was served on a bed of gooey death-phlegm.

He gave me some literature and showed me a picture of a waterfall. “Would you jump off that for $1000?” he asked.

“I mean, I’m a sucker, but no. No, I don’t think I would,” I said, hoping it was the right answer and that I wasn’t going to have to listen to him read aloud from the Bible while shoving snakes in my face.

“I wouldn’t either!” And he laughed that sick, hospice laugh again and clapped me on the arm with his bony hand. It stung a bit. “Well, I’mma let you catch up with your friend. It was very nice talking with you and I hope you enjoy your day at the fair!”

And he sent me off with my keychain which was probably made by the collective fingers of a scared and abused Bible camp, and my God brochure, which I used to jot down all the mean things Alisha said to me throughout the day. For instance: when I wanted to get my caricature done and she said they probably couldn’t make my head any bigger than it already is. I acted mad, but it’s actually kind of true.

I found Alisha inside the 4H tent, pretending to have a heart by cooing at goats.

“I’m religious now,” I panted with excitement.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” she muttered.

***

A few hours later, I was waiting outside the restrooms for Alisha, who was inside a stall adjusting her prosthetic leg. There was a tractor-pull going on in the field behind the restrooms, and I was trying to peer around a pole to see it better.

“Why do you always look so creepy?” Alisha said, exiting the bathroom behind me. “It looks like you’re trying to pole dance.”

“I was just trying to see what’s going on behind the fence!” I explained defensively.

“Well, why don’t we actually over there and watch so you can stop looking like a creep,” Alisha suggested.

She’s always trying to make sure I don’t get mistaken for a prostitute, that’s why I like her.

The stands were full so we found a patch of grass  surrounded on three sides by a collection of exposed ass cracks.

“I’ve never seen a tractor pull before,” I said, full of the excited naivete of someone who had just left the porn shop for the farm.

“Trust me, it’s not that exciting,” Alisha warned.

“I’ll be the judge of that!” I yelled.

It was not that exciting.

Sitting there with a cigarette in her hand, Alisha got real serious.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked. I love secrets, but no one ever really tells me any, something about me telling the Internet or something?

“I don’t like blond people,” she said quietly. I waited for her to follow up by saying she’s left a towheaded body count from Arkansas to Pittsburgh.  “I just don’t trust them.” There was a young blond guy standing off to her left, and she pointed at him. “Mostly guys though.”

Alisha delved deeper, telling me personal experiences which have shaped her distaste of blond men.

I considered this.  On cue, a blond douchebag  in an Abercrombie shirt, wrists adorned with hemp, walked past in sandals. In my mind, I ran through a list all the blond guys I know. “Yeah,” I agreed. “Most blond guys are cocky.”

I thought about it some more. “To be honest though, I’m thinking of past cast members from The Real World.” Like that Ryan dickhead who’s on the current New Orleans season, what a prick, am I right?

Alisha sighed. “I love how I share something personal with you and you ruin it with your stupid Real World references.”

She was just bitter that I got an awesome keychain and she didn’t.

[PART 1] [PART 2]

Success is managing to photograph the subject without getting sprayed with milk and dirty boy spit.

Hi! Apparently this is a Blog Bash!

I’m not very social in the blogosphere so I’ve never done anything like this before, but I’ve been trying to be more active in the blog scene, if you will, so I am now going to attempt to play with others.

I’ve been instructed to talk about myself, so here are the pertinents you might want to know if you are new here:

• My birthday is July 30, 1979 (OMG that’s coming up you guys!). That means I’m a Leo, which means I roar a lot. Which means I have an awesome singing voice.
• My boyfriend Henry and I have been together since 2001. We did a REALLY SICK THING which produced a boy named Riley, but everyone calls him Chooch. You can too. He’s 4 now. 4 is the age where kids get the  manual on how to be dicks, in case you didn’t know. And if you have a 4-year-old and are disagreeing with this, then I hate you.
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  Can we trade?

• I live in Pittsburgh! I hate it here!
• I hate water towers, power plants/abandoned factories, the ocean, outer space, glaciers, Alaska, Miley Cyrus and Katy Perry, the Steelers, liars.
• I like hockey!
• My past time is stalking people and playing with animal masks. (Yes, in tandem.)
• I like the Cure and most any music that features incessant screaming.
• Annoying people with reckless abandon is sort of my thang.
• I can turn any situation into a study of awkwardness.
• I am a girl!

5.) Let’s hear the story behind your blog title!

My grandma and I have a very illustrious history, full of afternoons reading Dickens together beneath a parasol and light-hearted flour fights during impromptu snickerdoodle bake-offs.

That’s a lie. I don’t know why I typed that just now.

The truth is that I was always the black sheep, that a lot of my actions or ideas shamed my grandma. Even as a small child, when I would fuck up, she would sigh exasperatedly (sometimes even disgustedly while running a red pen across my name on her Will) and say, “Oh honestly, Erin.”

And not a day goes by where I don’t have some extent of an “Oh honestly” moment.

I leave you with obligatory photos of my obnoxious mug:

Earth-shattering updates throughout the day, brought to you by Tart-Tits. Please try to continue breathing while taking it all in.

• 15:10 Oh Zipper, my old nemesis. #
• 16:13 I wonder if Dutch Andrew from Tucson knows that we’ve Imprinted. #
• 17:47 Some guy yelled GORGEOUS at ME but Alisha said it was about HER and that he was drunk. :( #
• 17:49 Alisha is just jelis that Kirk the Carnie is in love with me. I snagged me a SUPERVISOR, y’all. #
• 18:42 Apparently we are partying with John and Jordan tonight. They own ALL THE BOOTHS IN THIS BLOCK. #
• 18:43 And Jordan was really cute but his sleazy personality killed it for me. Alisha was lapping it up, though. #
• 19:08 We’re about to watch tractor pulls, whatever that means. Alisha assured me it’s not all that exciting. I’LL DECIDE FOR MYSELF, THANKS. #
• 19:39 My new ringz0rz. My vampire boyfriend gave it to me. twitpic.com/226z9u #
• 23:21 That was the longest I’ve ever spent at a county fair, and arguably the best time I’ve had at one. Thanks @saucalisha!! #
• ***
• 09:46 Tweeting with no eyes and one ear: Earth-shattering updates throughout the day, brought to you by Tart-Tits. Pleas… bit.ly/bJ89lc
• 11:23 Just wondering why holidays are always The Worst Day Ever at my house. #
• 13:12 Best cemetery workout ever. If I didn’t make up for at least 75% of yesterday’s carnival eats, then I’m clearly doing it wrong. #
• 15:05 This “relationship” is making my health deteriorate. #
• 16:04 My Top 3 Weekly #lastfm artists: Emarosa (34), Sleeping With Sirens (7) and Rosaline (2) #lastfm bit.ly/cShGmp #
• 16:12 .009 seconds into the new Real World and just met Knight, a hockey player from Wisconsin. Hello new favorite. #
• 16:38 Henry is the most confusing person to date and he’s not even bi-polar like me. This day has been a yoyo, dippin g in and out of Hell. #
• 16:59 Goofus and Gallant, OhHonestlyErin-style: Remember that old series “Goofus and Gallant” that was in that kid’s mag… bit.ly/cmwd68 #
• 17:02 The Town Schizo is outside and Chooch is giving everyone inside Eat n Park a play-by-play of her actions. SHE’S CROSSING THE STREET, GUYS! #
• 17:05 Listening to old people order at restaurants is pretty amazing. They’re very specific and MEAN about it. And have annoying ring tones. #
• 17:26 Dick Dale just came on at Eat n Park but god forbid anyone should hear it over my son’s enormous set of lungs. #
• 17:39 Pretty sure the old next lady next to us just barked to the waitress: “And I don’t want no Texas toast cuz that gives me a brown rash!” #
• 21:11 Oh great. If You Really Knew Me: a new MTV series destined to act as my new summer downer. #
• 21:56 One of my talents is referencing The Real World during serious moments/when people least expect it. #
• 22:07 Henry just put an end to 10 years of my voyeurism by installing proper blinds on our front window. He’s ruining my life!!! #
• 23:57 Just realized all those hours ago, I meant “exhibitionism” not “voyeurism.” That’s what I get for paraphrasing something HENRY said. #
• *** Read more

[This may have been written by someone drunk off wine.]

Alisha and I had just bought ourselves awesome rings (she got one that sparkled so she could pretend it was made from Edward’s vampiric flesh) when a husky man clad in the native threads of Holland summoned us over to his booth.

“Have you ever heard of poffertjes?” he asked, his ruddy cheeks giving him the sort of farm boy naivete that makes me immediately want to step up to the challenge of behind-the-silo corruption.

I looked at Alisha, thinking that it might be some weird Bible collectors cards from her home planet of Arkansas, but she looked just as blank as I look 389 days of the year.

“They’re little Dutch pancakes,” he went on to explain, gesticulating to the HOT GRILL and Dutch-chapeau’d broad behind him, who was chatting on a cell phone, a decidedly non-Dutch thing to do, in my opinion. But then he noticed Alisha’s hate/love tattoo and broke character, telling us of his brother’s obscene chest-piece and announcing several times that he had just relocated to Philly from Tucson.

“So, do you want to try some of these?” he asked hungrily. “We’re on a mission to make people aware of these delicacies!”

I did, really. I wanted to try at least fifty of them. There was little else I wanted to stuff down my gullet that day, except maybe ice cream and elephant ears and tornado chips and grape leaves and pizza and fried mushrooms and deep-fried Oreos and 34 heaping ladles of cheese sauce. But I just wasn’t feeling it right then, and I was also a little turned off that he hadn’t offered us a sample.

“I’ll tell you what,” I propositioned, because everything comes down to a proposition with me. “We’ll be back for some of those, and you have to let me take your picture.”

He jovially agreed and Alisha and I walked away, straight into the arms of the BEST SOUP SLINGER in the WORLD. He was from Long Island, which I never knew was known for their lobster bisque and dizzying array of chowder, but why would a banner at a county fair of all places lie to me? Everything at the fair is built on TRUTH, right down to the safety certificates of the rides and the inhabitants of the freak show tent.

This guy knew how to play the game and immediately offered us samples.

I chose a plastic thimble full of lobster bisque and awkwardly tongued it while he watched me with slobbering anticipation.

“OOOOH! LOOK AT HER FACE! THIS GIRL IS LOVING IT!” he shouted to the younger guy toiling around behind the row of soup pots. People passing by had slowed their pace to see if I was female-ejaculating.

That wasn’t awkward at all. It felt like the first time I masturbated in front of your WoW guild back in 2004.

I assume the public consumption of hot soup from Tinkerbell’s Diva Cup gets just as easy after time.

Alisha opted for the cajun corn chowder.

“OK now that one is spicy, just so you know,” the maniacal soup slinger warned. “It’s because it’s CAJUN.”

Here is a fun fact about Alisha! She doesn’t like being told things she already knows!

“Yeah, I got that,” she said dryly.

He really wanted to fill our bellies with an entire bowl of the shit, but it was like, NINETY DEGREES that day. Yes, let me drink down some steaming hot chowder right before I go on the Claw, you mother fucker.  I told him we would be back. And we were at one point! Except we all but walked sideways so he wouldn’t recognize us.

Leaving the soup chamber, we continued our prowl along Clogged Artery Alley.

“I think we Imprinted,” I blurted.

“Huh?” Alisha asked, with a coating of surprise and impatience, which she has perfected through years of dealing with me.

“Andrew,” I sighed dreamily, before adding, “The Dutch pancake guy.” You know, in case her mind hadn’t been infected with his exotic Dutchness like mine had.

“SHUT UP,” she demanded.

***

A few minutes later, we found ourselves strapped into the Fireball, a mini rollercoaster that does nothing but cycle across a loop relentlessly to the tune of popping bolts and squealing metal.

“Am I going to die?” I asked the carnie.

He laughed. “No, you won’t die. Not yet anyway. But you probably only got another 40 years…”

I considered this; dying at 70 didn’t seem too bad.

“…you’ll live to be 60,” he continued, laughing harder at his brilliance.

HE ONLY THOUGHT I WAS 20, YOU GUYS!

“I like you!” I blurted, and then the ride started and I screamed bloody murder and lobster bisque  in Alisha’s face the entire time.

After the ride, he teased us some more and I decided he was the best carnie ever, which was why I called him over a little bit later and shouted, “CAN I TAKE YOUR PICTURE?” because I can’t ever just ask things in a normal tone. Alisha hung back, wanting no part of this.

“What’s your name, anyway?” he asked. “I’m Kirk.”

I made a point of waving in Alisha’s direction and telling him her name too, but unless “Alisha” was my bra size, I don’t think he much cared.

We chatted for a few more seconds, and then I pranced back over to Alisha.

“I snagged myself a SUPERVISOR,” I bragged.

“Oh, yay,” Alisha patronized.

Later, we were on this really awkward hang-glider ride which requires you to board it by laying on your stomach and scooting up until this plastic wedge separates your legs. It was located right next to the Fireball ride.

So we’re just hanging there on our stomachs, like we’re ready to be mounted, when Kirk turns around and spots us. “Hey!” he shouted. “Come ride this again!”

Alisha pointed out that I was giving him a prime boob shot with the way I was squashed down on my stomach. “And he’s totally checking that out too,” she mumbled.

Later still, we ran into him when he was manning another ride, and we totally held up the line as he came down to the gate to chide me some more.

“And again, he was totally looking at your boobs,” Alisha told me, and I think she was jealous because hello, she thought I wore that shirt for her!

I remembered Andrew and started to feel guilty. Surely, since we’d Imprinted, my flirtations with Kirk must have been stabbing his soul with plastic carnival cutlery. I decided it was time to go back for those fucking pancake things.

***

“WE’RE HERE!” I announced, after we found our way back across the herds of prison-tattooed wife beaters and stench of diesel. ” I told you we would be back!” I said proudly to Andrew.

Before I handed over any money, I made sure he and Henrika made good on their promise of a photographical keepsake.

(Have I mentioned yet that I was stuck with the hideous point-and-shoot? Fuck that camera with the Devil’s dick.)

While Hendrika griddled up my pancakes, Andrew talked to us about how the wind kept blowing out the flame under the grill! And that poffertjes date all the way back to the 1400s! And they’re traditionally served with powdered sugar and either grenadine, amaretto, or cassis! And he tried to teach us how to say poffertjes but I forgot before the last syllable had a chance to gyrate off his tongue because I couldn’t stop staring dreamily at him and wondering when he was going to take me behind that piping hot griddle and impregnate me with his Tucson lineage.

Then these fucking fat fair queens came clomping over in their stupid country dresses and tiaras (no really, they were the official fair queens) and Andrew turned his attention on them so I pretended to be wildly interested in Hendrika’s precise placement of pancakes atop the river of cassis. (Andrew said that was the best choice. DEEP SIGH.)

I handed Hendrika the money and walked away with Alisha and my Dutch fuckcakes. “I’m trying to play it coy,” I explained as we turned a corner.

“Yeah, I noticed,” she said sarcastically.

I can’t believe I know how to spell “poffertjes.”

“They’re really hot, you might want to —-” Alisha started to warn. “Or you could just shove the whole thing in your mouth,” she said sardonically, as I winced in open-mouthed agony.

They were good, those little pancakes! Real doughy and soft in the middle, like I imagine Andrew is post-coitus. I’d totally make him keep those wooden shoes on, by the way.

“I feel like Bella,” I said later. “Are you Team Kirk or Team Andrew?” I asked Alisha.

She was pretty much OVER IT by that point.

Bonjour from my work! I was tagged by the lovely Alaina to do one of the fabulous 25 Things About Me lists which makes a stalker’s job that much easier. I just did this same meme on Facebook last week, and perhaps it’s a cop-out, but I’m just going to repost that. If that’s a problem, send me an Evite letting me know what parking lot to meet you and we’ll have a dance-off, followed by a grisly stabbing.

(OK FINE: I changed some of the answers. God, are you happy now?)

1. In kindergarten, I used to tell people that my real mom lived in Paris and would be back for me one day.

2. Two years in a row, in the 80’s, I had my birthday party at an outdoor roller rink. Birthday people always got to have a song played in their honor, and both years I requested T’Pau’s “Heart and Soul.

” I had the record and thought I was the shit because of it.

3. In my first apartment, I let two guys build this gigantic bong that required the smoker to go upstairs to my loft just to hit it. And I can’t even remember if I personally ever partook. I think I was like, “PVC piping might not be something I want to inhale from.”

4. One of my favorite pets was a Pac Man frog named Hubert. Sometimes I took him to school with me, in his little pink-lidded aquarium. He used to watch me get undressed.

5. I tried to resuscitate my family’s pet rabbit when he died. Even broke out my summer health notebook.

6. For some high school English project, I made a video of Barbie and Ken making out to some Kenny G song, but I can’t remember why.

7. The happiest times of my childhood were spent at Wildwood, NJ; I haven’t been back since 1992.

8. Sometimes I hear certain old songs that give me flashbacks that aren’t my own.

9. I love humidity when I’m outside running in it, but hate it any other time.

10. Tennis is the only thing I’ve ever been able to admit being good at, but I haven’t been able to play, physically, since I was 17.

11. I’ve always liked older dudes.

12. I miss staying out all night in the summer, doing innocent things like sitting on a swing set at 3am, talking and laughing.

13. I don’t connect with people very easily, if at all.

14. My greatest ambition in high school was to join a gang. Yes, I was this stupid rich white girl, trying to pretend like she was so street. It is not embarrassing to look back upon at all. AT ALL.

15. I am generally super smooth and coy when it comes to flirting with guys, but as soon as I try to flirt with a girl, my face burns up and I become a case study for social awkwardness. One time, I told some girl I had a crush on that I have cats, and it came out all blurtedly. It was a disaster.

16. My favorite drink is Strongbow and I never get to have it.

17. I always have time for some impromptu Phil Collins devotion.

18. When I was a kid, I listened to mostly soft rock, like Gino Vanelli, Neil Diamond and Barry Manilow, stuff that grandparents get down with. I was kind of an old soul, musically. Now that I’m an adult, I listen to all the music teenagers love.

19. I’m convinced that people from my past never remember me. I guess that ties in with my inferiority complex.

20. I love having parties, it was a true source of happiness for me, but now my house is such a disaster that I’m too embarrassed to invite people over. It feels like a part of me is dead now because of that. And also, Henry won’t let me invite strangers from the Internet:(

21. My #1 pet peeve is being interrupted. Unless it’s an emergency, or relates to what I’m talking about, shut your goddamn face. I wouldn’t do that to YOU, so don’t do it to me. FUCK. Look how angry I’m getting! I just burst out of my tank top and put a hole in the wall.

22. In 1998, I was in a training class for Echostar/Dish Network, and caused such a ruckus (I was a 19 and 19-year-olds are assholes) that one of the big-wigs from Colorado came out to lecture my training class on how it’s not polite to leave disparaging public remarks about the trainers. It totally tore my class apart: half the class thought it was hysterical; and the other OLDER half thought it was horrible and embarrassing that they’d get dragged down by my shenanigans.

23. I am resigned to believe that there really isn’t anything out there for me, career-wise, so I keep taking menial jobs.

24. I was trying to move to Chicago when I started dating Henry, but he couldn’t move because of his kids. So I stayed because I wanted to see how things would work out with him. I regret it sometimes. Not the Henry part, but not moving.

Pittsburgh makes me unhappy.

25. I like discovering things that my friends hate and then forcing it on them. Like Alisha for example, she LOVES it when I talk about phlegm. And don’t tell me if you hate the word “moist” because I’ll use the shit out of it and then I’ll text you the sound byte of the dictionary.com pronunciation of it. Not that I’ve ever done that to anyone.

And now I’ll tag some of my newer blog friends, who will probably groan!

Kristie from misskris.nu

Cecilie from en,to,tre:cecilie yeah

Vivobello

Josh from joshhilden.com

Kelly from Blue Frog Legs

Vic Fuentes from Pierce the Veil, fuck yeah.

I haven’t even come close to collecting all my thoughts about Warped Tour 2010, but when I was going through the pictures from yesterday and came across this one, there was no way I could wait to post it. Pierce the Veil’s set was the highlight of the day for me; nothing else came even close. As far as I’m concerned, that one short set was totally worth the price of admission and enduring the unrelenting sun beaming down 100 degree rays of pain and torture on us all day long.

I cried through their entire set.

There’s much more to come! You know I’m a wordy motherfucker. (Plus, there’s still Butler County Fair stuff to post about, including a REALLY MAJOR secret I learned about Alisha!) But until then, anyone who thinks Warped Tour is “gay” or maybe just doesn’t get it should check out this article by Alternative Press’s Scott Heisel, because it made me simultaneously say “Fuck yeah” and cry. Music turns me into a pussy, what can I say.

Hello oh my god I’m at Warped Tour!

Taking a quick break under a tree because it’s nearly 100 degrees today but so worth it!

We were still in the parking lot, still in the CAR even, and I had already started crying pure tears of happiness.

Dillinger Escape Plan before noon is a pretty good indication that the day is going to be fucking balls out ridiculous.

This is the best day of the year.

Henry is miserable and jaded.

MORE LATER OMG! Pierce the Veil soon, shut up!

The last time I went to the Big Butler Fair was probably the summer of 2002. This is the best fair around because there are SO MANY rides. And other stuff too, I guess, if you’re into real life county fair attractions. After the second ride I dragged Henry on, he was like, “That’s it. I’m done. Officially quitting carnival rides for the rest of my life. Not gonna do it, you can’t make me, would rather wrap my dick with barbed wire.” And most of the rides have signs nailed up that yell NO SINGLE RIDERS, so that only made me feel unloved and angry. Henry tried to make up for it by buying me some shitty $2 holographic ring that now sits in my jewelry box, RUSTED and malformed.

Never went back after that. What good is it with no one to ride with?

Last week, my bestest Alisha was like, “Pretend you’re my girlfriend and I’ll take you to the Big Butler Fair. I’ll even ride some shit.”

“What does that entail,” I asked. “This ‘being your girlfriend’ thing?”

“Just look pretty, not that you’ll have to try very hard since you’re practically a BEAUTY QUEEN,” she said. “And if you’re real lucky, I might be inclined to buy some tornado chips for us to share. Maybe even spend the extra dollar to get some cheese sauce splooged on it.” Alisha decided she would buy the ride-all-day passes ($15 online, as opposed to TWENTY DOLLARS at the gate, Jesus shit-packing Christ), if I would take care of the general admission. Which was only five dollars. I thought that was extremely fair and quickly signed off on the deal.

How could I pass that up? I put on a tank top that left me 90% exposed to Butler County every time I leaned over, and we set off for the fair.

The first thing I noticed from the parking lot was my old lover/nemesis, The Zipper. I felt a warming in my heart; a feeling that might be better reserved for when your granny serves you up some warm chocolate chip cookies, or when your favorite stripper is wearing that clear vinyl g-string with the studs again. It’s the feeling of coming home.  I have a hard time believing you’re running a county fair if there ain’t no hobofucking Zipper, OK?

And all along the horizon, I saw more gravity-defying death traps slicing through the sky. The shrill shrieks of horrified excitement pierced the air, the kind of wails that sound like an amalgamation of murder and rough sex,  and could be heard all the way through the parking lot. I felt so inspired that I raised the roof right there in the grass lot.

There were a lot of great rides there, I can show you my research for proof, but there was one that I loved so much, I want to give it its own entry.

The Wacky Worm, a/k/a The Caterpillar.

It was the first ride I saw once Alisha and I had our wristbands fastened by the hands of two gnarly carnies.

“Whaaaaat is that?” I exclaimed in that deep, soft tone I reserve for moments of pure majesty.

“That’s a kids ride, Erin,” Alisha scoffed as she followed my jutting finger to the most delightful kid-coaster in the shape of a caterpillar, coasting lazily along yellow tracks.

We rode a few big kid rides, but my desire kept going back to the caterpillar.

“I don’t think we can ride that without being accompanied by a child!” Alisha lectured.

And then we rode a few more rides, like the ferris wheel, upon which I gazed at the Caterpillar from above. “But there are adults riding it!” I whined.

“BECAUSE THEY ARE PARENTS RIDING IT WITH THEIR CHILDREN,” Alisha reiterated, bordering on hostility.

Then we ate and shopped a little.

Eventually, though, we found ourselves back in the vicinity of the caterpillar.

One of my favorite songs by the Cure is “The Caterpillar.” I don’t think this is a coincidence at all. It was practically written in the Bible that I needed to stuff myself into the cavity of a metal caterpillar on this day of Saturday July 3, 2010. At this point, I was convinced that it was my destiny and wasn’t going to leave the fair until I sat my fat ass on that ride, even if it meant borrowing some stranger’s kid. Or cutting off Alisha’s legs and stuffing her into a romper.

“I’ll just ask,” I said, thinking I could lean over a little while pleading with the carnie, maybe smash my boobs against the gate in the carnival version of Hamilton-slipping the doorman at Studio 54. And ask I did. I marched over to the Mexican carnie (Eduardo, I checked his badge), pointed back and forth to Alisha and myself and shouted up to him, “Can we ride this too?!”

He nodded and motioned for us to come on up. You know I clobbered my way excitedly up the metal steps, tongue wagging a little, with Alisha walking a little more hesitantly, cautiously, behind me. She refused to ride with me, choosing instead to slide into her own seat.

I bet Alisha didn’t expect it to be as AWESOME as it was! It was everything I imagined. I yelled and screamed the whole way through, especially when we cruised over the BUMPY part of the tracks! Sitting behind Alisha, I squealed and yelled, “PUT YOUR HANDS UP!” as we approached the big drop.

“You’re stupid!” Alisha kept shouting over her shoulder.

LOOK AT HOW HAPPY I AM IN THIS PICTURE! It was like being a fucking child again. I forgot all about bills and mom-things and the bruises my pimp left across my ribcage. It was fabulous.

I wish the Caterpillar was my primary means of transportation. I wish it was idling sweetly next to my bed every morning, waiting to whisk me off into the kitchen for my morning coffee and angel dust. And it would have a No Henry policy, where it would fake like it was going to let him board, only to speed up, leaving him standing there dejected, with his pants down.

Of course I made Alisha ride it again.

“We’ll wait until it gets darker and all the LIGHTS come on!” I had it all planned out.

“What is WRONG with you?” Alisha asked. But secretly she was excited to ride something that didn’t break her collarbone and leave metal waffle-marks on her cheek.

The second time, we had to actually stand in line. With other children. Like, small other children. There was a mom who was hanging back next to the line and I kept catching her glaring at us. I’m pretty sure Alisha, who was against this from the beginning, was trying to hide behind her hair.

“At least we’re not dudes,” I said as we chose our seats. That seemed to make Alisha feel a little less creepy.

“Hey look,” she said. “Did you know there’s a safety bar?”

I checked in front of me, and also noticed there was a seat belt. “Huh. How about that,” I murmured as I fished for some slack in the seat belt, which wasn’t even coming close to crossing my lap.

Alisha noticed this and said, “That right there is a good indication that we’re TOO OLD FOR THIS RIDE.”

But at least we were properly fastened the second time around, since the carnie didn’t seem to think it was necessary to check for our safety! Now I know what ride to go on if I’m trying to die, I guess.

EDIT: OH SHIT I FOUND A VIDEO OF IT ON YOU TUBE YOU GUYS!

Filthy disgusting boy-hands, all day, every day.

It is hot. We don’t have air-conditioning, except in the bedroom. Just putting four pictures in a post is making me sweat and it’s not even 10:00am yet. Words will have to come at a later date.

(And I have a lot of them, because Alisha and I went to the Big Butler County Fair, OMG.)

I grew up with an in-ground pool at my disposal and central air. Ten years I’ve spent in the hell that is this piece of shit house in Brookline, and I have come to the conclusion that acclimation isn’t a real thing. I actually wished I had to work yesterday, just to get a reprieve.

“You had a REAL pool when you were a kid, and all I get this cheap balloon-thing?” Yep, pretty much, Chooch.

People passing our house yesterday were actually willing Chooch to splash them.

Tomorrow, it’s supposed to be 96 degrees for Warped Tour.

But at least it’s open space, and not the brick prison I call home, which is essentially Hell with a lid on.

Remember that old series “Goofus and Gallant” that was in that kid’s magazine, Highlights? I was thinking about it this morning and how much Henry and I are like the Goofus and Gallant of the 21st century. So I’m reinventing the series.

Here’s the first one:

My hair is actually darker than that. But everything else is TRUTHFUL, right down to Henry’s empty box of hemorrhoid paste.

No wait, I lied! Our garbage can is blue.

[A Note: The last time I read Highlights was the summer of 2004. I had taken my grandma to her doctor appointment and as we sat in the waiting room together, I took great pleasure in reacquainting myself the aforementioned Goofus and Gallant, and also the Timbertoes, whom I loved!

Guys, they were a family made from TIMBER. After getting completely cocky from finding all the objects in the Hidden Picture thing, I began reading a page of riddles and jokes. There was one joke that I totally did NOT get (and can’t remember, so don’t even!), and had to actually ask my grandma to explain it to me.

One of the many millions of times she’s mumbled, “Oh honestly, Erin.

“]

Earth-shattering updates throughout the day, brought to you by Tart-Tits. Please try to continue breathing while taking it all in.

• 14:36 There’s no listing in the Yellow Pages for gaydar repair. Motherbitch. #
• 15:44 Me: which team does the blue guy belong to? Henry: yeah, that’s the ref. I did not know that. #
• 15:48 Whoever coined the phrase “being dicked around” must’ve been a lez b/c literally being dicked around feels better than having plans blown #
• 16:26 I do believe I’m gaining a reputation with all the area eye doctors. #
• 17:03 It’s surprising America hasn’t tried to abolish soccer. Something we’re not good at?!?! THEN NO ONE CAN ENJOY IT! #
• 17:59 Alisha, on wearing the same contacts I got at my eye appt: wasn’t that a mth ago? Me: 4 wks. Alisha: last time I checked that’s a month. #
• 21:04 Sitting in a BP parking lot, looking like a creep. There, I did my part. Fuck the oil menstruation! #
• ***
• 02:00 Spent the last few hrs drinking wine outside w/ Mose like a real adult, & engaged in convo so awesome I didn’t have time to tweet. WHAT. #
• 02:03 Apparently i’m “such a crybaby” for puckering my mouth after Henry served me a bowl of the tartest fruit this side of the Bunny Ranch. #
• 09:55 Tried to eat cereal while wearing my glasses. My chin, cleavage & person I keep chained under the computer desk thanked me for breakfast. #
• 13:51 Just learned that Chooch walked past a transvestite yesterday & said “Thats not a GIRL.” Seeing Chooch in my heels just now reminded Henry. #
• 14:09 <3 Kellin Quinn so much today. #
• 15:13 Henry just suggested I make a CD full of all the songs that make me want to die so he can see what happens when I get to the end. #
• 15:34 ATTENTION! THERE IS A RED PONTIAC PARKED OVER THE YELLOW LINES! DON’T WORRY! NEIGHBOR RUTH WILL GET TO THE BOTTOM OF IT! #
• 15:48 I guess seeing Chooch in my heels earlier is what spawned Henry to dress him in a wife beater & camo shorts. Now he looks like a Chino thug. #
• 16:51 Asked H enry why our kid can’t just be normal but then realized what a retarded question that was. #
• 17:57 Henry’s having an impromptu cookout, lecturing Alisha and me about the intricacies of grilling. twitpic.com/20jxwg #
• 18:11 Hot Naybor Chris is assisting some stoned guy jump his car. Henry’s weener shrinks a little each time someone else gets to be a hero. #
• 19:10 My Top 3 Weekly #lastfm artists: Pierce the Veil (14), Keyshia Cole (2) and We Are the In Crowd (1) #la stfm bit.ly/cShGmp #
• 20:23 Tonight: 1 pick-up game of #thingieball, 2 feuding 4yo’s, 8 hobo boots worth of sweat, & tons of neighbor-watching. (AKA spying.) #
• 23:45 Having flashbacks to when I was nearly gang-raped by 20 squirrels at the cemetery today. Harrowing, to put it lightly. #
• 23:47 As opposed to putting it heavily, which next time i will once I learn how to attach cinderblocks & Oprah’s scooped-out boob fat to tweets. #
• ***
• 10:31 Goddamn Kennywood bit.ly/daIjB5 #
• 10:55 Asked Chooch if he thinks our cat Marcy is pretty and he said, “Not really. She looks just like evil.” #
• 11:41 This is how i dressed in 1999, only sometimes I wore pants: ow.ly/i/2iUn #
• 15:15 Oh, every single day before April 25, 2006, how I miss thee. #
• 15:22 An Un-Ironic Post Card: P1010028, originally uploaded by appledale. My friend Mose came over Saturday night to dri… bit.ly/aZxgWi #
• 17:52 The winner of the photo contest gets a night’s stay in a hotel in PA & I’m like, “yes plz get me the fuck out of my house.” #
• 18:46 Did not get to see my crush today but the ni ght is still kind of going fast. I seriously expected to be dumped with tar for typing that. #
• 20:19 This is me begging: So today I submitted a photo to some Visit PA Facebook contest. Naturally, there are only two … bit.ly/a5Bmfa #
• 20:36 Was just successfully convinced by a lawyer here to go to a doctor. She had me at “tubes in the ear.” #
• 21:48 When it come to keeping my pants on in this house, i’m in the minority. #
• ***
• 00:44 Wasn’t expecting to love Daybreakers. #
• 11:05 The first step really is the hardest. I hope I’m doing the right thing. #
• 12:37 Sometimes the best remedy really is slapping on headphones (not that earbud bullshit) & listening to screamo. (Real screamo.) #
• 13:08 I hate when I record the local news because an eye witness makes me laugh uncontrollably, but Henry doesn’t think it’s funny. #
• 15:09 I’m really tired of feeling like my heart is going to explode EVERY DAY before I leave for work. Every day. #
• 15:11 This made me LOL: RT @scottheisel Way to go, Spin, part two: This *definitely* isn’t Bryce Avary of @therocketsummer: bit.ly/cBWMwg #
• 15:13 What business does shitty Spin magazine have writing about Warped Tour. Leave that to @altpress. #
• 16:15 Aw man. Why does the ringing in my ear today sound like Clay Aiken impersonating dolphins? #
• 18:53 Oh, how awkward. Or I should say: Oh, how usual. #
• 19:20 I must REALLY have lost my touch if I’m asking HENRY for flirting tips. #
• 23:58 Nilka on Hell’s Kitchen looks so much like (a black) Christina I nearly can’t watch.Sorry for yr misfortune Nilka. twitpic.com/21539o #
• ***
• 00:12 If you’re pissed like me that ABC’s Happy Town is getting screwed, you’ll enjoy this: bit.ly/haplinmagicman #
• 08:49 Hey, let’s talk about my glasses.: Don’t worry, I only let him wear theses for &gt;10 seconds, for fear of his eyebal… bit.ly/c5stMb #
• 10:33 So not hot eno ugh today in the cemetery. How will I collapse from heat exhaustion?? #
• 11:19 I just spoke to a cop without it ending in a torrent of cursing and the threat of arrest. WTF. #
• 12:20 Let’s for a minute pretend that I’m a sweet virgin prairie girl. …. Yeah, I’m bored with that now, too. #
• 12:29 Nothing like a friendly sprint to the front door with my son, loser gets locked out. #
• 13:48 When I’m outside with 12 neighborhood kids dripping off me like pigs blood on Carrie, you can just call me Miss Erin. #
• 14:05 I’m in child Hell. Where are all the par ents? & I’m pretty sure I’m now an official MILF thanks to the googoo eyes I’m getting from a 10yo. #
• 15:35 Henry’s guess for the band i’m listening to: Silence Is Better Than This. ;( #
• 15:39 One more week til my Christmas Day. My belly does somersaults every time I think about it! #
• 18:16 Just spent the last 10min talking about & watching YouTube videos of Nancy Kerrigan’s WHYYYY & cracking up with my boss & Barb. #
• 20:46 I’m sitting alone downtown waiting for my ride when some guy walked toward me, fast & with purpose. I almost peed. Then he smiled & said hi. #
• 20:47 Erin lives to see another day! #
• ***
• 10:22 I love it when I get emails from Vistaprint, telling me what I deserve. #
• 11:10 A Conversation with a Cop: It’s not really an unknown fact that I frequent several of the cemeteries around Pittsb… bit.ly/dkOYwo #
• 12:29 Oh yay, now there’s a new kid out here for me to watch. #
• 13:31 Goodbye, Sarge. You’ll always be a Penguin to me. #NHL #
• 13:35 July 1 never fails to be a one-two punch of heartache and excitement. #NHL #
• 13:40 Whoever bought Chooch this scooter is a fucking bastard. #
• 14:04 Apparently my “block babysitter” woes aren’t important enuf for Henry to take seriously. I HAD A STRESSFUL DAY CHASING BALLS INTO TRAFFIC. #
• 14:40 I really am not a fan of children. #
• 16:25 I just had a 1 minute convo with a co-worker and didn’t hear a word she said. Being half deaf is fantastic! #
• 17:59 I don’t know what’s worse: being flashed by the annoying 50yo coworker or being assaulted by the converted 1980s pantsuit she has on today. #
• 18:06 Honestly, I got no game with the ladies. This is just sad. #
• 18:3 1 Oh with the rate tonight is going, combined with my feverish giddiness, my composure is gonna be more blown than Kate Moss’s nose. #
• 19:39 I’m still trying to figure out what’s so shocking about Craig Owens signing to Decaydance. Like that couldn’t be seen a mile away. #
• 21:21 That was a confusing elevator ride that couldn’t end soon enough/ended much too soon. I’m home now, ready to bury my face in a pillow. #
• 22:55 I wish the rest of Jonny Craig would hurry up and mature like his voice has. Shit. #
• 23:25 I Still Feel Her pts 1-4 could very well be the biography of my 20s. #
• ***
• 01:21 OH SHIT NEW DEGRASSI EPS STARTING JULY 19, WHAT. #
• 10:55 Either my glasses are windows into the Netherworld, or I’m suffering eye trauma. #
• 12:48 One way to REALLY frustrate my son is by not playing Zombies correctly. He hates me and my incompetence right now. OMG HALP. #
• 13:35 Chooch literally chased the UPS man down the street, yelling WHERE’S MY TOY, DUMBASS? I’m like “dude, you gotta ORDER it 1st.” #
• 13:44 Inexplicably, my 4 year old is very concerned with the whereabouts of Kurt Vonnegut’s dead body. #
• 16:25 We’re both wearing purple today! OMG. A true sign for sure. #
• 17:35 I look like I belong in a Mark Ryden painting today. #
• 18:57 That may have been my most dramatic paper cut to date. #
• 19:08 Shit that makes summer suck :   This photo has nothing to do with anything. You may continue. You know what I hate… bit.ly/bwxXyK #
• 20:56 Didn’t get to leave work early as expected but got a really fantastic ice cream sandwich & hit on outside my building. #
• 21:57 Just shivered w/ anticipation at the thought of spending all day tmw without my child, who’s currently actin’ a dick.. THANK YOU, ALISHA! #
• ***
• 01:02 I AM SO GIDDY AT MARK’S WITH ALISHA AND TELLING THEM ABOUT MY CRUSH AND ITS RIDICULOUS. help. #
• 01:12 Alisha had a food day. I don’t know what that means, because everyday is a food day for me, but she said it 5x so I guess it’s a big deal. #
• 01:19 Now we’re talking about chandeliers. Because Mark is gay. #
• 09:18 En route to the doctor, motherfucker. #
• 09:29 Oh my god I’m in the waiting room and now I’m stuck here because they have my license. There’s NO TURNING BACK. #
• 09:53 Hopefully I’ll be able to hear again soon. Partial deafness makes me paranoid & slightly more awkward. Makes for weird work situations. #
• 10:12 Every one I talk to here looks at me like I’m a freak. I’m just a little overdramatic when it comes to my health, I guess. #
• 10:42 I CAN HEAR AGAIN! #
• 13:33 OMG BUTLER COUNTY FAIR! #
• 13:33 We haven’t been here for 15min and Alisha already cracked her collarbone. #
• 14:17 I’m religious now! #
• 14:22 Alisha, regarding my want of a caricature: But I don’t think they’ll be able to get your head any bigger than it already is. (Its true.) #

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