I haven’t really been doing much during my week off from work, but I gotta say it’s been pretty fucking delightful to not have to stop what I’m doing to fuss with my hair and fling half of my wardrobe out of my closet while screaming “I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR TO WOOOOOOOORK!”

Today for instance, it has been raining nonstop and I didn’t have to walk to the trolley! (I still have to walk and get Chooch from school though, but at least “going to work” doesn’t happen after!)

However, that nagging countdown is definitely ticking in the back of my head. I’m going to be one unhappy broad next Monday. :(

We went to Bill’s for a post-Castle Blood ice cream hook-up Saturday night. Henry gets so mad when Chooch and I ditch him with all of our ice cream cones, haha.

Pumpkin soft serve, boyyyyy.

Me & Willie, Marcy’s daughter. She hates people, so getting this close to her was a pretty big fucking deal. Also, what the hell is happening to my eyes up there?

I have been trying to get Henry to learn how to do fishtail braids for the last 87 years. But then over the weekend, I watched a tutorial that actually made sense to my rock-filled head and voila, I had fishtail braids! Too bad I didn’t spend more time making sure the part in the back looked OK, so I wound up having to wear a beanie to the haunted house that night, and I do not look cute in beanies so NO MONSTER hit on me. FML.

Henry made a red velvet version of the Cupcake Pie, using the best red velvet cupcakes that Pittsburgh has to offer (Vanilla Pastry Studio, holla!). I took it with me Monday night when I went to hang out with Corey and Danielle, along with Halloween II and April Fool’s Day.

Corey dug into it immediately. We were both kind of fucked since there was no adult figure there to cut a slice for us, but we persevered — a pie made of cupcakes has a knack for making even the most helpless sad-sack find their inner knife-wielding strength.

Our initial response was the same: it was good but we liked the cupcake pie from the pie party better. The custard didn’t mesh right with the red velvet, and Henry ended up having to use extra to make sure the whole pie was coated evenly, so it had kind of an eggy taste. Still, it was a pie constructed of a red velvet foundation with a generous roof of Henry’s homemade cream cheese frosting, which is the best cream cheese frosting I’ve ever tasted IF I CAN BE CANDID HERE FOR A SECOND.

45 minutes later, Corey went back for seconds.

I took a piece home for Henry so that he could taste his errors, and he thinks he found a less eggy custard so he will be conquering this pie yet again very soon. And he will receive no objections from this cupcake ho-bag.

We had a really rough evening with Chooch yesterday. Henry kept looking at me, arms akimbo, and saying, “Little Erin. That’s exactly what he is and it’s SCARY. You both are so lucky that I have a cool head.” I guess it all started when we were at Target and Chooch was hungry and just totally lost it even though he knew that we were taking him to McDonald’s afterward. He caused a slight scene so I just pretended that I didn’t belong to him and Henry. So then we fed him and he was quiet for awhile, but then when we got home, he decided he was still hungry and pretty much tried to blow down the house with his ire. It was pretty fucking intense, and then I started being an asshole too because I realized that I was also hungry, so Henry had to make me dinner while trying to get Chooch to calm down before the neighbors called the cops. (He was in his room, slamming the door and SCREAMING about how Henry wants him to starve, so I’m sure that sounded not at all curious.) Anyway. Chooch ate a chicken sandwich and then put himself to bed and woke up completely normal (well, by Chooch-standards) and happy. I joked that he must have been having an existential crisis related to the fact that he just learned yesterday that it’s the Chicago Blackhawks, not Black Cops.

The highlight for me was when Henry called Chooch “master” but Chooch thought he said “bastard” and well, you can imagine how that went over. Henry’s lucky Chooch didn’t make a meal out of his face, at that point.

This vacation week couldn’t have been any more perfectly-timed, that’s for sure. A lot has been going on in my head and I’ve been pretty up and down emotionally. It’s mostly family-related, and I will just leave it at that. So when my favorite pastel-haired girl singer, Sherri Dupree-Bemis of the band Eisley, posted a sweet photo of herself, her daughter and her sister on Instagram along with some really sweet words about her family, I got all wistful and left her a comment about how nice it is, as an outsider from a completely broken family, to be allowed a glimpse into her life and how inspiring it is to see how close her family is with each other. She replied with a kiss-blowing emoticon and it totally made my day, you guys. Totally. Even Henry, who usually makes fun of me for being so obsessed with this family, smiled BECAUSE HE KNOWS THAT NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO CROSS ME.

People always want to remind me that family is an earned title, and I get that. Thanks! But it doesn’t really make it any easier to know that your mom could be in the same room as you and completely pretend that you don’t exist. But hey, that’s my cross to bear, right?

Whatever. I’m going to Rich’s Fright Farm tonight with Janna, so fuck everything else! Woo, October! (Hopefully Chooch & Henry don’t kill each other in my absence.)

Corey’s senior picture. Janna comes with the package.

After we toured the Palace and the grounds, I was super adamant about eating at the cafeteria. I am obsessed with the cafeteria!! All cafeterias!!

The cafeteria (Govinda’s) is located about a quarter of a mile down the street from the Palace, where the Temple and Hare Krishna lodging can be found. Right across from Govinda’s is a courtyard and it was teeming with Sunday worshipers who all stared at us because, short of flashing fanny packs, everything about us screamed NOT ONE OF YOU.

Inside Govinda’s, we became immediately confused. First of all, we were the only non-Krishna people. Second, there was no clear instruction on what we were supposed to do, so we all kind of stopped and slammed into each other as soon as we entered the door. Then we did what all socially adjusted people do and whispered uneasily to each other like we had just been kicked out of the back of the Scooby Doo Mystery Van and landed on the threshold of a haunted house.

“Ask if they have the buffet,” I hissed at Janna, who sighed and asked the young Indian girl at the register by the door.

“Oh, no,” the girl answered with a laugh and WHY DO I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE PEE WEE AT THE ALAMO EVERYWHERE I GO. I know I reference that all of the fucking time, but it’s because it’s true. “You may choose from our limited menu,” she said, Vanna White’ing her hand toward a black dry-erase board next to the counter. The undulating question marks in our eyeballs must have been pretty clear, because she added, “Would you like me to explain everything to you?”

We all sighed and shook our heads eagerly as she slowly explained in her best dumb white folk words what everything was. I still couldn’t understand half of it because I’m dumb with ingredients and wound up just picking something at random. Corey ordered something similar to what I got, I think our breads were the only difference, and Janna went with the safe bet of samosas because even dumb city folk know what samosas are. You can buy them in the freezer section!

Since Janna drove us there that day, and it’s kind of a long haul, I paid for her lunch. (And Corey paid for her Palace of Gold tour.) I wonder if she wrote about it that night in her diary, because Corey and I don’t generally do nice things for her.

We chose a booth far away from the other people already eating, and waited for our food over a soundtrack of our own nervous giggles.

A waitress (maybe the same person as the cashier? I wasn’t paying attention) set down Janna’s samosas and a tray that looked remarkably like hog slop and baby vomit, so I knew it was going to be good Indian cuisine, but Corey and I were unsure whose it was supposed to be. I thought she said something that started with a “d,” which is what my choice started with, so I dramatically stopped Corey right before he started eating.

“I THINK THAT MIGHT BE MINE!” my inner fat girl beast cried. So then we had the daunting task of waiting for the waitress to return with the final meal so that we could finally put this minutes-long mystery to bed.

I was right! It was whatever I ordered. But Corey’s ended up being tastier than mine, so who’s laughing now.

We didn’t have silverware, not that Janna needed any for her samosas, but it was kind of difficult for Corey and me to dig in to our lunches.

“I think maybe they don’t believe in forks,” I said honestly, trying to fashion my naan into a serving apparatus, but only succeeding in staining my fingertips orange like I had just smoked fifteen year’s worth of unfiltered Pall Malls. This went on for awhile, Corey and I alternating quiet exclamations of “ouch” every time we burnt ourselves on curry. Meanwhile, we kept darting our eyeballs around the cafeteria, craning our necks to see if any of the seasoned Indians at the nearby tables were also eating with their hands, but everyone seemed to be finished eating at the moment.

“You know,” I said, shaking the pain off my fingers, “maybe I’m confused. I think it’s the Ethiopians that eat with their hands.” And just then, another Govinda’s patron walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a plastic fork out of a bucket; Corey and I totally lost it. Eating lunch became a lot easier after that.

Even though I was too stuffed to finish my meal, I kept harping on Janna to go up and buy me dessert. She totally didn’t want to, but I can be very persuasive. There were these golden balls of wonder that I was dead-set on devouring, so Janna returned with a container of those and a regular old push-pop for herself, which made me laugh because how much more Caucasian can one look in an Indian restaurant than by licking on an American summer delight? And then I found out that the golden balls of wonder cost about as much as Janna’s lunch, totally negating the fact that I treated her, so then I was performing the simultaneous trick of laughing and choking on balls, which is something I mastered my junior year of high school.

Anyway, these balls were made of chick peas, cashews and honey. They were an oral treasure, in my opinion. Corey kind of liked them, but not enough to finish the one I gave him, and Janna took one bite and then handed it back to me. MORE FOR ME.

After lunch, we crossed through the courtyard, which was now suspiciously empty, and walked into the temple. There were shoes splayed all over the floor and on the shelves in the shoe room, but only three people were in the temple itself. One was an old white man who looked like he definitely has been foraging in the mountains his whole life. I wanted desperately to take his picture, but that motherfucker never took his eyes off me.

The shoe:person ratio is all the evidence I need to know for fact that these deity statues are feeding on human flesh. You’re not fooling this girl, New Vrindaban society. I’m on to you.

There was an Indian couple in the temple with us, and from a short distance away, I spied the man ladle some sort of liquid into his woman’s palm, which she then brought to her mouth and DRANK. I needed to do this too, so I lingered casually in front of a eerily realistic statue of Swami Prabhupada and waited for them to leave. Then I pulled Janna over to the bowl of hopefully-not-poison and made her try it first.

“It’s just like, rose water,” was her official Yelp review. So I allowed her to dump some of it into my palm, and then I immediately gagged and thought for sure I was perishing as the intense floral notes clogged my windpipe.

“Oh my god, what did you do?” asked Corey, who had just re-joined us after selling his soul to the Cult of Krishna by making accidental eye contact with one of the manga-like deity statues. Janna explained to him that I saw other people doing it and I’m sure she rolled her eyes too but I couldn’t tell since I was pretty much blacking out at that point.

Corey started laughing. “You were peer-pressured into drinking weird flower water?!” YES, PRETTY MUCH, OK?!

Janna had to use the bathroom in the temple before we left, so Corey and I stood outside and talked about her, obviously. Suddenly, a peacock trotted over from god only knows where, and it looked like it was going to start to head into the temple. I suggested that we try to usher it into the bathroom with Janna, and Corey thought this was the best idea since the Nintendo Power Glove, but there were two Hare Krishna people standing nearby so we thought maybe it wouldn’t be the hottest idea to disrespect their token animal while standing in front of the temple, no less. Even us Kelly kids know when to draw the line.

After the temple, we walked off some of our curry-heavy lunch while paying our giddy-yet-horrified respects to the Dancing Acolyte statues on the other side of the creepy (one lone) swan-infested man-made lake. Hidden by trees behind the statues sat a cabin which had eerie Krishna tunes wafting out through the screened windows. I wanted to climb up the hill and peek into the windows, but Janna was like, “No. Don’t.”

The last stop on the agenda was the gift shop back up on the Palace of Gold grounds. I bought a religious ring and a pretty blue bracelet that everyone at work has been admiring and I say, “Thanks it was like $5 at the Palace of Gold!” and then I think that might kind of mar their opinion. But anyway, on the way back to the car, Janna was crossing the street at the same time a car* was coming. I shoved her out of the way while screaming, “JANNNNNNNA!! LOOOOOOK OUTTTTT!” I mean, I SCREAMED it. Corey had already crossed the street and was standing next to Janna’s car, so he whirled around to see what the fuck was happening, and then he started laughing really hard, because what I didn’t know yet was that the doors to the minivan parked next to Janna were open and about 10 Indian people were standing there looking horrified.

*(It might be conducive to the story to explain here that the car was like, a lot of yards away and going 15mph.)

Of course, they were standing on the side of Janna’s car that I had to get into, so it was extremely embarrassing and I was literally squealing from trying to hold back my laughter. At that point, I was also crying. So I opened the backdoor of Janna’s car and pretty much dove in, nearly spilling my container of golden balls of wonder on the floor of her car. Corey and Janna got in and once all the doors were shut, we collectively lost it. Well, maybe Janna wasn’t laughing that hard, but Corey and I were doubled over. I think Janna was probably just more exhausted from having spent so many hours with the Kelly siblings.

****

Once Janna dropped us off, I came into the house and tried to recall the day’s events to Henry, while choking on another golden honey ball of wonder and having to squat down to keep from peeing; I was a hot, giddy mess. Chooch took one look at me and then went back on the computer.

Henry didn’t think any of it was funny, nor did he think I was a hero for saving Janna from vehicular manslaughter. I guess he had to be there.

Walked to McDonald’s to try their new pumpkin spice latte (nothing to text home about, obvi), but it’s mostly because I’m on vacation this week and had nothing better to do*. Maybe tomorrow I’ll walk to Starbucks. Envy my life.

*(I mean, besides cleaning, which just makes me want to cry every time I consider it.

You do it, Henry.)

We are outside of castle blood and my face is green for some reason like the green man in a tunnel. are quest  today was to find a scull,st0ne and a scroll I got the scull henry got the death scroll and Mommy got the stone. my favorite room was the science room and there was some crazy person in it. i don’t want to say anything about when i saw Katelyn.

Terror Town was not scary I told mommy to go in the back she was scared. Laura was in the FRONT I was in the middle. My ears were covered the whole time because there was screaming and the lady that opened the door for when we go in told us that there was real ghost haunting the place that’s what scared me  and this guy called me a chicken nugget and then a pig came over and said ohh a child ghh ghh. HI THIS IS ERIN. I guess it’s my turn to write about  my favorite part of Terror Town, which was definitely when the pushy woman in line behind us didn’t get to go in at the same time as us, because we probably would have been giving her and her kids piggy back rides through the whole thing judging by the way they stood so close to our backs when we were in line. I WAS NOT GOING TO LET THEM GET IN FRONT OF US. I HATE LINE JUMPERS!!!!

now it’s back to me at the end of the haunted house there was this guy in a grave yard and he looked like Freddy Kruger

because his shadow had a hat and was crouched down. When it was over I got a lollypop from this guy.

At the haunted trail at haunted hills hayride .com  OH MOMMY REMINDED ME ABOUT GOD FOR BID JANNA MET US THERE AND MOMMY AND LOURA TOLD ME TO HIDE FROM GOD FOR BID JANNA. the picture shows a sad clown in my FACE. personal space, NOT. when we were in line we  were the first ones in line the lady told us to get in a single file line when we were in the hut there was a cut off real head and told us the rules he said use kind words but I put up the middle finger and he saw what I did. But I was like “oh s**t he saw what I did” And the dumbness begins.

there was a grandma actor she said to me eat this rat tail num num num. And she told everyone else to lick grandfather’s heart but the good thing is that it was in a jar. And she said that she liked ERINS PURSE :tip: everyone says that.

I was so mad because I was wearing my new shoes and it was muddy I was pissed. THEY WERE NEW!!!

Henry and Chooch are at a birthday party (one of Chooch’s many girlfriends, I guess), and I just couldn’t sit around the house any longer.

So I walked aimlessly around Brookline for almost two hours.

I know I bitch about this town a lot, but there is something really quaint about it if you can look past the Yinzer accents and drug busts.

There was something going on at this church and really loud, scary singing blasted out of the open windows, probably in hopes of brainwashing heathen passers-by. Sorry, Church. Considering I came home and licked Satan’s face, I’d say you failed.

I called Henry several times on my walk and hung up on him because he was asking stupid questions that I wasn’t in the mood to answer.

This chair is for sale for $14 and I want it!!

If you’re ever trying to stalk me, you can often find me walking on this street.

This dude had the Steelers game on super loud. I couldn’t see where it was coming from but I want to believe it was a transistor radio.

The guy who lives in this house is old, Polish, and has like three unmarked white vans and stares me down every morning.

If I ever go missing, maybe look there first.

These photos are of my brother Corey in 2009. I think we need to do another photo shoot, like, super soon. No masks this time.

***

I’m off from work all this week so maybe I will be inspired to actually write something at some point. Any requests? Haha.

Signing up for the Color Run two months ago seemed like a super great idea when Chris sent out the email at work. But I had completely different feelings about it when my alarm went off at 6 o’clock this morning, that’s for sure.

Amber1 picked me up at 7 we mostly talked endlessly the whole drive to South Park about how tired we were. We got a little perkier once Chris, Monica, Amber2 and Steve showed up, though. Plus there was loud Top 40 music blaring across the fairgrounds so that also helped keep me alert.

I made lots of sad, pouty faces while we stood in the start line, but then Amber1 started throwing her pack of color on all of us and how can you not be happy when clouds of color are sprinkling down on you? I was really worried about getting it in my eyes though. I had enough problems seeing without this color shit getting all up in there.

Then I tried to catch a color pack that some Color Run dude was tossing into the crowd and I ended up mistaking it for a bridal bouquet and accidentally pulled some bitch’s hair (and I think I stepped on her foot) and THEN SHE SNATCHED THE COLOR PACK FROM ME. God, I was too fucking tired to care. I did really want to catch one of the free fanny packs, though, but none came even remotely close to me. I totally would have filled it with Fruit Stripes gum and stuck my Smokey the Bear pin to it.

That time Amber2 and Steve got mad at us and walked ahead.

I learned that certain colors are really important to certain people. For instance, Amber1 was pissed that she didn’t get coated in more pink and I became inexplicably obsessed with the fact that none of us got any green thrown on us. Apparently I like green more than I thought I did. Purple was also a color of contention because we felt it was lame that none of the color stations had it! And Monica and Chris almost broke up arguing over whether it was really pink or fuschia. (I mean, I think that happened, anyway. I was pretty tired.)

We all started off in a slight jog, but then quickly went back to walking. I was talking to Henry about this later on and he said, “If I had to pay $40 for a 5K, I would definitely walk the entire thing so it would last longer. Why would you want to run and get done faster? I’d want my money’s worth.”

I don’t think Henry understands the concept of a 5K.

It rained for a little bit, which made the colors feel super gross on my skin.

I stole this picture from Amber1’s Instagram because it’s great.

After we crossed the finish line (totally anticlimactic), I did what I do best by posing awkwardly for a photo. Then we all ate a free Kind bar and went home.

WAIT!! PS!! I forgot about the part where I BROKE MY ANKLE* near the finish line after I accidentally stepped in an 87-foot deep pothole disguised as a puddle AND NO ONE CARED!!!!

*(Don’t worry—it has since miraculously healed.)

Today I was going through old Flickr sets and came across the one from when Janna, Blake and I toiled over a batch of STD cookies. (While Henry frowned from a distance.) That was such a fun night. I miss those days! Let’s have a reprise, Blake and Janna!

Here’s a snippet from that September night in 2008:

So while Henry slaved away on the kitchen, Blake performed serious Google image searches on various STDs while I bossed around Janna and basically sat around being cute. Then Henry realized he didn’t have corn syrup or some shit for the frosting, so while he was out we had a tea party and it was awesome because it was yet another thing that Henry wasn’t invited to. During our tea party, Blake ridiculed Janna’s selection of Earl Grey by saying that, “Earl Grey is for assholes.” My selective hearing heard, “Let’s race for abstinance” which had me squatting on the floor, squeezing back pee drops. Of course, no one else thought it was that hilarious, which only made it harder for me to not need to slip into a fresh pair of Depends. At some point, we were talking about egg harvesting and I tried to convince Blake that it was as easy as lounging in a tubful of ice, wielding a melon baller, and then creating a Craiglist post. Hopefully, he will teach all the girls at school this method.

Click here for more gnarly STD cookie photos, k bye!

Alternately titled: Alliteration is Annoying.

You know what my favorite part of the Pie Party is? I mean, besides pretending to be invincible from saddlebag-inducing calories all day. Getting to hang out with my peoples! I’m not nearly as social as I once was in the yesteryears, but I still have a little bit of the hostess bug in my system, so I enjoy putting together a nice event for my friends to crash. And people seem to really love the whole “WHAT KIND OF PIE SHOULD I BAKE/BRING!?” part, which is awesome. Especially when dudes roll up with a pie in their hands like it’s your basic 6-pack.

I literally started having pie parties because I wanted to eat pie and I wanted my friends to bring me those pies. And they did! I had no idea it would have grown into what it is now though. And it’s even reunited me with some old high school friends too, which makes me believe that pie is the answer to all of the problems. Vote for pie.

The tables were pretty much piled with pie within the first 45 minutes. Sweet, glorious motherfucking pie. All kinds of pie, too! Pies with fruit, cream, chocolate and even savory pies like Kelly’s taco pie and spinach pie, and Patty and Tim’s veggie quiche. I loved that there were non-sweet options because while I love the fuck out of pie, I always forget to eat lunch beforehand and end up being That Person who is craving a sandwich at the pie party.

From what I hear, the taco pie was a hit, but I wouldn’t know because of that whole no meat clause in my diet. (Read: I’m still too stubborn to eat meat 17 years after my parents told me I’d never last as a vegetarian.)

My ex-work nemesis BRAD, along with Gayle and her crew. Gayle brought me a hostess gift! Brad did not.

I didn’t know Sean was planning on coming! So that was a nice surprise.

I became tragically ill after eating my first plate of pies. I guess my body isn’t used to all of the sugar anymore, so I wound up with an immediate headache. (This could have also had something to do with the ridiculous amount of stress I put myself under before the party even started. What good is a pie party if I can’t even enjoy myself!?)

That chemical pie up there was made by Kara and it was extremely confusing yet pleasurable to the mouth. It tastes just like an apple pie but it is MADE OUT OF RITZ CRACKERS WHAT. I guess this is something that originated during the Depression when apples were too expensive, but my feeble mind can barely comprehend the fact that someone was able to invent that back when there was no Internet. Henry was annoyed that I didn’t label it “mock apple pie” because I guess some people were deterred by the whole “chemical” thing. I wish I had a slice of that right now.

Kaitlin’s crack pie was the clear crowd favorite for the second year in a row, but Bridget’s Snickers apple pie was definitely a close second. I was able to snag a tiny morsel toward the end of the party after the tylenol my cousin Danielle gave me kicked in, and I can attest that it was definitely the kind of pie my fatter self would have eaten the FUCK out of.

My new work friend Chris and her girlfriend Monica (who is also my friend now too, thanks Facebook!) made this Yoda caramel pear pie which I didn’t get to try and I am so fucking pissed because the first (and only) pie I ever made (kind of)on my own was a pear pie!

Bridget’s Snickers apple pie thing! I had to steal this photo from her Facebook because I didn’t get a picture on Sunday. I really wish that was sitting in front of me right now instead of this severed nun’s head that Marcy just brought over to me.

Janna schmoozing with Jeremy when she was supposed to be helping me!!!

Apparently, everyone also really liked the pumpkin creme pie that Janna brought so I was quick to point out that it was FROM EAT N PARK. Nice try, Janna Child, but I saw the bag it came in.

I’m just kidding—lots of people bring bakery pies! There aren’t really any rules for the pie party. Just, you know, bring a pie.

Here is a photo of people pleasantly pillaging pie. Sandy looks like she might even be singing about it.

Dogs are also invited to the pie party. And I mean actual dogs, not ugly women.

Danielle just always wears gray now to make it easier for Corey.

OMG! Remember two pie parties ago when I learned that my brother Corey is color blind?! Well, at this pie party, I learned that he sucks at Solitaire. But! He was one of only two people who enjoyed the cupcake pie, so at least he doesn’t suck at having good taste in pies? (I don’t care if anyone loved or hated Henry’s other pie, because that one was his idea and this is all about me. But my pies never shine, goddammit!)

TWINS! Amber1 (on the right) brought a pink lemonade pie!

The Law Firm Table. God only knows what good gossip I missed out on by earning my social butterfly wings. :(

Laura and Mike brought a maple cream apple pie! MAPLE. IN AN APPLE PIE. I managed to plunge of forkful of it down my gullet before the end of the party and it was amazing.

There three tiny babies at this year’s pie party, all of which I admired from afar. Not Wendy though, she got all up in their grills.

OMG two of my friends from high school came this year! I hadn’t seen Cara since 1997, and I actually just had breakfast with Alisa a few weeks ago, so this was only the second time I’ve seen her since 1997. They brought little baby apple raspberry pies which were a hit (and were all snatched up before I could get Henry to put them with the invisible pile of leftovers he was pretending to take home). My favorite part was when Henry would walk by and Cara, Alisa and I would all look at him at the same time and he would be all, “What? What?” and then we would just laugh.

Alisa was really proud of her drawings, particularly her saggy boob-like glasses:

I couldn’t believe she left without ripping this off as a souvenir, so then I thought it would be REALLY NICE of me to mail it to her so her kids could hang it up on the fridge, but stupid Henry had already thrown it out. What an art-hating douchebag. What’s next, Henry—signing petitions to get art classes out of public schools? Melting down our crayons for marital aids? Sorry to tell you Henry, but THAT IS CONSIDERED ART IN PRISON.

I sat next to Kara and Theo for awhile because Kara is pretty good at not baby-bombing my lap or giving me face-noogies with diapered butts. While I still have baby-phobia, it was pretty cool that there were three new babies there, unable to eat pie. In addition to Theo, Sandy brought her new baby Zoe, and my Internet friend Alex brought his little baby Finn! So all of the babies got to look at each other and not do anything. And no one forced one into my arms! I got to admire from several feet away, which is how I best handle these situations. I guess deep down I have this fear that I am going to cradle a baby in my arms at which time they will be able to sense with immediate certainty that I have the devil within and then they will begin to buck and shriek and everyone will turn to look at me and I hate it when people look at me.

Anyway, I do not have photos of Alex (THIS TIME) but it was really exciting that he came to eat pie because I have never met him in real life before! You may remember him as my guest-poster while I was on vacation last June and also the mastermind behind the April Fool’s Day Pittsburgh Blogger Thingie for which I wrote this Top 5 list about things I like to do in Pittsburgh. Anyway, I invited him via Twitter and was super stoked when he posted a picture on Instagram while baking a pie, because that meant that there was a 50/50 chance he was actually going to show up! Apparently, I missed his tweet telling me that they were lost, but he and his family still managed to show up! Which is amazing because whenever I’m lost, I give up after 5 minutes and go home. If I can find my way home. That’s the only complaint about the pie party every year, is that South Park is such a fucking vortex that most people end up driving around aimlessly looking for the pavilion. My co-worker Jill even wound up going to the park office for directions.

Too bad Henry won’t buy me a house with a sprawling backyard. BLAME HENRY, PIE PARTY IV EDITION.

Anyway, after Alex and his family left, Henry’s mom asked me how I know him.

“The Internet,” I said nonchalantly. “This was actually the first time I met him.”

“Did he bring a pie?” she asked me slowly.

“Yeah, the pecan pie,” I answered.

“I ATE A PIECE OF THAT!” she cried like she was expecting to fold in half and collapse into a poisoned flesh-heap. I promised her that I didn’t think Alex had baked hemlock into his pie, but if he did, I would surely contact the Twitter Police and they’d take him to some iJail and we’d follow the trial on Instagram.

There’s a water pump thing next to the pavilion and the kids pretty much spend most of their time at every pie party screaming at each other in kid-code and doing May Day dances around the pump all afternoon. Usually, other parents are keeping an eye out in case someone fashions a shiv out of a pie server and retaliates after their stuffed bunny gets tossed into the woods (I may or may not have my own child in mind here), so I can continue being 100% ignorant to the fact that my kid has stripped off his shoes, socks and shirts and is running around, drenched in sweat, speckled with dirt and leaves, and baring his ass crack. Supposedly, Chooch and his crew took bottles of water over to the slide and turned it into a waterslide, and it was probably a good thing that I was ignoring all of this because I have been told after the fact that when grown-ups would go over and tell them to please be careful, they would respond with, “We are invincible.” However, Kara told me that Chooch and the older kids were really good around Harland, Rachel and Elena, at least, and did not try to get them to climb any trees or stab adults in a cornfield.

Henry and I were talking about how no one cried this year, and then we realized it was because there were no poorly-parented bad seeds in the mix. The safe word of last year’s pie party was “MOMMMMMMMMY!!!!!!!” It was four hours of tattle-telling and crying and I wanted to run away. Ugh, kids.

My pretty mason jars.

The table looked so pretty in the beginning, but after about five minutes it prety much looked like this all day. Ugh, just looking at this picture makes me want to rewind to Sunday so I can eat more. I totally missed out.

Obligatory Pie People Count:

• Janna
• Jeremy
• Elizabeth, Mike and Rachel
• Sandy, Ben, Elena and Zoe
• Kara, Harland and Theo
• Kelly, Sam, Steph, Kian and Zac
• Judy
• Kaitlin
• Corey and Danielle
• (Cousin) Danielle, Ean and Corey
• Cara and Alisa
• Wendy
• Brad
• Bridget
• John, Jenn, Hailey, Gavin and Abby
• Sue
• Barb
• Amber1 and Ashley
• Sean and Kylie
• Chris and Monica
• Nate and April
• Mike and Laura
• Patty and Tim
• Gayle, Jeff and Tami
• Debbie and Colton
• Alex, Kelly and Finn
• Jill

Thank god there always seem to be people there at the end to help Henry clean up and dole out leftovers, while I sit in a pie-coma, holding a fork.

I was never really able to bounce back after my inaugural pie plate gave me diabetes, but toward the end of the party, I remembered that there were savory pies, so I had a slice of spinach and the veggie quiche, which were both AMAZING and made me feel a lot better. Thanks for thinking out of the box, Kelly and Patty! So then I was able to take small samples of other pies while Henry was trying to wrap things up, like the cheesecake Wendy brought from the farmer’s market; Jill’s raspberry & chocolate ganache, which tasted like something that would earn a bitch an apron on Master Chef; Bridget’s Snickers apple pie thing, GOOD GOD Snickers should honestly find a way to put that into candy bar-form; and Laura’s maple cream apple pie which was fantastic because I’m obsessed with maple things still! I tried to get Henry to taste it but he said he doesn’t like maple!? I feel like maybe I just recently learned this but forgot because nothing he tells me is really all that interesting, unless it’s a story about him taking steroids and then Hulk-smashing a handicapped lady at a Ted Nugent concert.

Finally, at around 6:45, I headed down the street to Hundred Acres Manor with Laura, Mike, and my cousins Danielle, Corey and Ean, because what better way to end the pie party than by running through a haunted house while inhaling chainsaw fumes and synthetic fog? I was in such a hurry that it just now occurred to me that I don’t think I said goodbye to Henry’s family, and I now for certain that I didn’t say goodbye to Henry or Chooch. I rule at social couth.

****

When I got home that night, I felt a lot better and was suddenly really hungry again (literally, all I ate all day was cream of wheat and pretty much the equivalent of two slices of pie) so I started to look around for the leftovers but HENRY DID NOT TAKE ANYTHING HOME. Nothing! Not a single fucking piece of any pie. I wanted to kill him!

“Yeah, but if I had brought leftovers into the house, you would have bitched about me wanting to make you fat,” Henry argued. Touché, motherfucker. Touché.

Were you at the pie party? Did you have a good time? What is your all-time favorite pie? TELL ME! Because I clearly didn’t get my fill on Sunday.

This last week, I’ve been thinking a lot about my family, and how grateful I am that my brother Corey and I have managed to maintain a good relationship through all the bullshit and drama. My hope is for Chooch & Blake to stay tight in spite of their great age difference.

That being said, I think it’s time for a new brotherly photo shoot! These photos are from last November. It was a good day.

Alternately titled: Henry & Erin’s Many Pie-related Break-Ups

I’m pretty laid back in a lot of different scenarios—well, mostly the ones that involve sleeping or watching TV—but when it comes to hosting parties, I am TYPE FUCKING A. I’ve always really enjoyed having parties, and one of the reasons I love the pie party is that it gives me a reason to have a party in the park instead of my shack-house. At the pie party, I don’t have to worry about my cat Willie pissing on someone’s purse, which some people might consider a party foul. (Ha-ha, do people even say that anymore? I didn’t think so.)

The first pie party was pretty simple. Henry baked one pie. We threw some fake leaves and paper tablecloths down on the tables. I had name tag stickers to label the pies. Only four of my work friends came, 10-15 of my outside-of-work friends, and Henry’s entire family. But every year, it’s gotten bigger. I wasn’t even going to have one this year, but people started asking me “When is the pie party going to happen?” a few months ago, and apparently Henry wanted to have another one, too, so I conceded. At first, I wasn’t into it AT ALL. But then, I suddenly got inspired to have the BEST PIE PARTY EVER because maybe this would be the last one.

So I started scribbling down ideas during downtime at work and on the trolley. I scoured the Internet for weird pie recipes while pretending to listen to Henry talk about his day. And then I decided that since it was the fourth pie party, I wanted to do pie four ways. I kept trying to tell people about it because I was so excited, but no one really seemed too stoked on the idea, especially when I got to the “pie-flavored popcorn” part. But I don’t care. Henry carried out all of my ideas and we had pie four ways after breaking up four ways. (Don’t worry—we’re together again. Barely.)

The main pies were Salted Honey Lavender (Henry’s pick):

And the Cupcake Pie, of which I can say for sure that I am a fan. Basically, after Henry broke up all of the mini cupcakes, he poured some sort of custard mixture on it and when it baked, the custard bound everything together and kept the cupcakes moist, while the frosting melted and hardened into these perfectly-crunchy pockets of SUGAR OMG SUGAR. And then it was topped with more frosting. I liked it, but trust me–no one was banging down our door for the recipe, haha.

(I put the sprinkles on it!!!)

Then there was the neglected caramel apple pie popcorn made with homemade Mexican caramel! Oh shit, that caramel was amazing, you guys. I think it’s called cajeta and it is made with GOAT MILK. I don’t know why I was so excited about this fucking caramel. It was actually on my list of things that I was going to attempt to make myself, but that plan was met with some skepticism from people who know me a little too well, so I moved that to Henry’s To Do list. Which consisted of basically everything and the poor man was literally in the kitchen all weekend up until it was time to go to the pavilion to set up, which was supposed to be my job, but it’s hard to do when Henry forgets to bring 75% of the things I need and ends up having to drive to the nearest craft store (FORESHADOWING) and my helper (JANNA!!!) doesn’t get there until literally 5 minutes before the party starts, and it’s 82 degrees and humid in OCTOBER and I’m already sweating my makeup off and I can’t wait for people to arrive and start hugging me.

Um, anyway. The popcorn had pieces of leftover pie pop pie crust in it and I thought it was really good but I eventually had to walk around with the pie pan and force people to eat it. No love for pie-flavored popcorn.

The third type of pie Henry churned out was an array of mini pies in pumpkin, cherry bourbon and Gorgonzola fig which were my favorites but he ran out of fig after only making about eight of them, ugh. I was super excited to use the three-tiered pedestal for those.

I’m totally obsessed with these fucking pie pedestals, you guys. “We” worked so hard on them! I know I will find a billion different things to use them for during the Pie Party Off Season.

And then there were the pie pops, which honest to god were nearly the demise of Henry and me. After my failed attempt at baking a few weeks ago, I bought a pie pop maker on eBay thinking that if I had a machine, I could do it. Because my track record at operating machines is so stellar?

Guess what? Totally not any easier. I tried to help Henry make some Friday night when I came home from work but it was complete bullshit and, to cut out about 45 minutes of obscenities from the story, I threw a total fit and then sulked on the couch. So then I was convinced that the pie pops weren’t going to happen but my puppy dog Henry diligently churned them out the next night while Chooch and I were busy gallivanting around town with Janna and Laura.

Henry knows what’s up. (But then I came home and was mad that he made some without the pie pop maker so we had a huge fight and broke up.)

Sunday morning, Henry made glazes for the pie pops because I thought the crust wasn’t flavorful enough and then he taught me how to drizzle it on. And I succeeded!

I DID THAT DRIZZLE, YOU GUYS.

The pumpkins got all banged up en route to the park, so I was pissed about that, and then I was pissed that the free-form pie pops that Henry made were too top-heavy and barely stayed propped up in their pumpkin-display. They probably tasted like shit, but they sure looked pretty. So whatever.

If you were at the Pie Party on Sunday, you may not recognize the child in the above picture. But that is indeed a shirted-version of my son, Chooch, before he abandoned half his clothes in favor of wilderness chic. His only task was to fill my gold glitter mason jars with crayons, which he took very seriously by turning into this OCD crazy person who had to make sure each jar held the exact same number of crayons and then when he lost count at one point, he dumped all of them out and started over.

The idea was to use craft paper as tablecloths and put crayons on all of the tables, but HENRY only bought one roll which covered like, three tables. And then he brought a staple gun that only had ONE STAPLE in it, so we had no way to keep the paper on the tables. He already had to go back to the craft store anyway, because months ago, I bought several pieces of burlap to lay down on the pie table, and he swore that they were in the car, but only three pieces were there!!! THAT WAS NOT ENOUGH BURLAP! I NEEDED MORE PIECES OF BURLAP EVEN THOUGH NO ONE WAS GOING TO NOTICE BUT ME!!!!!

Another break-up in the books.

Anyway, Henry left to go to the craft store for burlap and tacks and also pick up some cases of water and ice, so Chooch and I pretty much just sat there, swinging our legs and being super bored with nothing to do. And then Henry came back and I said, “Oh good, give me the burlap” and he shouted, “DAMMIT” because of course he forgot the burlap. I was going to make him leave again but then people started showing up and that’s when we realized we didn’t have FORKS. So that took my mind off the burlap. Luckily, Kara had just arrived in time to save Henry from being disemboweled by my simmering glare because she had a bag of plastic utensils leftover in her car from Harland’s birthday party a few weeks ago, bless her goddamn party supply-hoarding heart.

And then Elizabeth came bearing thingies of coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts (and also her husband Mike and daughter Rachel) and I was like, “If I weren’t so socially awkward I would hug you” but instead I mumbled something about being stressed out and wanting to kill Henry. Elizabeth asked if I needed help and I kind of remember saying yes but not giving her anything to do. But god, that coffee was very appreciated. Thank you, Elizabeth!

It’s a fucking pie party. Nothing is happening other than people eating pie. I’m not walking down any fucking aisles, last time I checked, but I still get so stressed out that I’m almost (almost!) unable to enjoy myself. Luckily, I get distracted once people start showing up and eventually stop caring that half of the last pie table is un-burlapped.

A small crowd had assembled within a half hour and it finally occurred to me that no one was eating pie. “You didn’t tell them to,” Henry pointed out. So I stood up and said, “You can eat pie now” and then everyone did. I was unhappy with the plates Henry bought, but then too many people were there by the time I noticed so I guess that’s a fight we’ll have to save for another time.

At one point, I saw Henry flinch but I couldn’t tell if it was from my icy glare or the cupcake pie against his teeth.

She might love Henry more than she loves me, but Marcy will ALWAYS BE MY FAVORITE I LOVE HER SO MUCH IT HURTS. Why can’t she just live forever? :(

Chooch, totally ‘noiding out in line for the hayride.

Chooch and I went to Haunted Hills Hayride Saturday night with Janna and Laura so that Henry could bake like a good boy in peace and quiet. Janna picked Chooch and me up and then, as rain crashed down in torrents, informed us that her tires are really bad and the last time it rained like that was when she wrecked the passenger side of her car. I’m here to tell you that this was way more frightening than the actual hayride.

But first, we went to dinner at King’s because we wanted to see if we could outlast the rain, and also because Chooch and I knew that Henry wasn’t going to feed us since he practically orphans us every time he’s in Martha Stewart mode. Anyway, Chooch and Janna both had to go to the bathroom at the same time, but then Chooch came running back to our booth, almost crying with laughter.

“I ditched her!” he wheezed. “I ditched Janna in the bathroom!” So of course, Laura and I start cracking up too because it’s fun  to disrespect Janna and oh my god is this kid mine or what?! Chooch was trying to hide behind this wall-thing and even the waitress was laughing about it because giving Janna a hard time is pretty much universally accepted.

So all of this time is passing and we started to imagine Janna sitting outside the mens room, waiting for Chooch, probably panicking and wondering if he was kidnapped by the claw machine or maybe had accidentally climbed into one of the ovens in the kitchen. Maybe she was frantically scrolling through my Facebook photos, looking for one of Chooch to submit to the milk carton printers that didn’t involve an animal mask or ice cream eclipsing his face.

But then I started to consider that SHE had ditched US. The ULTIMATE ditch, too, because not only would we have to pay for her stupid dinner, but we’d have to call Henry to pick us too since she was our taxi driver for the night. Anyway, turns out Janna wasn’t waiting for him after all. SO WHY WAS SHE TAKING SO LONG, OH GOD THE POSSIBILITIES.

When she came back to the table, she was trying to play it off like she didn’t care we were all bent in half with laughter. “I didn’t expect him to wait for me!” she cried defensively. Oh, how I love to laugh at Janna! And so does Chooch, clearly. He also likes ordering food he won’t eat and then stealing food off Janna’s plate.

Chooch took this picture for his Instagram.

The hayride was just OK, and Chooch, for as scared as he was in line, never stopped casually talking the entire time. He even said he’s not scared of chainsaw guys anymore since I told him that the chainsaws don’t have chains on them, which is hilarious because even though I know this is a fact, I am STILL FUCKING TERRIFIED OF CHAINSAW GUYS.

I was angry because the best part of this attraction is the haunted trail, but it was closed for the night because of the stupid rain. (Which has stopped by the time we left King’s, but I wasn’t about to complain that the trail was closed because I stupidly wore white TOMS. What the fuck is wrong with me?)

My favorite part of the hayride was when Janna got yelled at repeatedly by the parking lot attendant for not following his explicit instructions.

After saying goodbye to Laura (no one cried because we knew we would be seeing her again the next day at the pie party), Janna decided it would be fun to go home an alternate route so that she could take Chooch through (fake) Green Man’s Tunnel in Dravosburg. (Everyone knows the real one is in South Park.) I mean, the road is actually pretty scary even if it’s NOT THE REAL GREEN MAN’S TUNNEL, JANNA. It’s all pot-holed and surrounded by creepy forest and then the tunnel is all foreboding and desolate and you just know runaways get raped there constantly. There was a car in front of us for awhile, but then we lost it when Janna decided to STOP THE CAR IN  THE MIDDLE OF THE TUNNEL WHILE TELLING CHOOCH THE WRONG GREEN MAN STORY AND THEN SHE TURNED OFF HER HEADLIGHTS AND CHOOCH AND I WENT BALLISTIC.

I might have been screaming louder than Chooch but so sorry that I didn’t want to die that night OK?! And oh shit, did Janna flip Chooch’s psycho switch. He was all, “What were you thinking?! Why would you do that to us!?” and I was all, “GO FASTER SO WE CAN CATCH UP WITH THAT CAR I DON’T WANT TO BE ON THIS ROAD ALONE ANYMORE OMFG WE’RE GOING TO PERISH.”

Janna dropped us off around 11 and Chooch left her with some vitriolic parting words before stomping into the house and screaming to Henry about the Green Man and how Janna almost had us killed (that last part might have been my own scream, nevermind).  And of course Mr. Watches Asian Horror Like It Ain’t No Thang was conveniently too scared to sleep in his room BECAUSE THE WALLS ARE GREEN OMG, so I let him fall asleep on the couch while I watched TV (sike, I was playing Simpsons: Tapped Out) and Henry pouted upstairs because I yelled at him for not having enough things baked. But first, Chooch used my phone to text Janna:

I guess that’s what he gets for ditching Janna at the King’s bathroom!

Before I went to bed, I took Chooch’s phone out of his hand and saw that the last thing he was doing before falling asleep was Googling “cats.”

I teased him about this in the morning and he said, “Well, I wanted to look at something that wouldn’t give me nightmares!” Then he proceeded to immediately Google “Green Man.” And at the pie party later that day, he interrogated almost everyone on their knowledge of the Green Man and kept acting shocked anytime someone would say, “Yes, I know of the Green Man” and Janna would have to explain the concept of an urban legend all over again.

Now he wants to be the Green Man for Halloween and I had to listen to him ramble on and on and on about this morning on the way to school: WHY DOES HE ONLY HAVE ONE EYE?! WHAT KIND OF CANDY DOES HE LIKE?! WHAT DID HE GET STRUCK BY AGAIN? I’M GOING TO TELL EVERYONE AT SCHOOL ABOUT HIMMMMMM! GREEN MAN GREEN MAN GREEN MAN GREEN MAN!

Thanks, Janna!

I think I delegated too many pies to Henry, but he seems to be managing. So far, he has the two main pies baked and cooling. I tried to help him by assembling the chalkboard tags for the pies, but even that was too extreme for me. I hate crafting so bad, I can barely even muster the words to explain it. Even gluing is too much for me.

At one point, I walked in the kitchen to get something and Henry straight growled at me. Pie Baking Henry is scary. And also negligent. Chooch and I have literally been left to our own devices all day. We realized eventually that Henry hadn’t fed us yet!!!! So I had to order pizza all on my own, but thank god for online ordering. However, it’s still delivered by a human being, so I screamed like I always do when anyone knocks on the door and ran upstairs. Chooch, who has been dancing to Never Shout Never all day in his tightie whities, followed suit, so Henry had to drop the oven mitts and open the door. He was so angry about it too and pretty much dropped the pizza down on the dining room table and stalked back into the kitchen. It was like watching a horror movie that wasn’t supposed to be funny but totally made us laugh anyway.

So Chooch and I were quietly eating our pizza when I caught him smearing pizza grease all over his nude torso. “Ew! Why are you doing that?” I cried.

“Because Daddy didn’t give me a napkin,” Chooch replied with a shrug.

We are so doomed.

And then a few minutes later, Chooch said, “Remember when Daddy called us retards?”

Yes, son. Mommy remembers and wishes Daddy hadn’t used that word!

Meanwhile, Henry made a cupcake pie, which is either going to be fucking disgusting or a tongue orgasm. Basically, he poured some kind of custard concoction over this and then baked it. I mean, it smells wonderful! So we’ll see if anyone tries to discreetly upchuck their inaugural bite into a napkin.

Now Henry is popping popcorn for the pie-flavored popcorn that we’re making. HAHAHA don’t you love my insistence on plural pronouns. It was my idea at least.

Chooch and I are going to a haunted hayride tonight with Janna and Laura so Henry will be able to continue his baking marathon in peace. Maybe he can crank some Nugent on Spotify and bake in his underroos. If it gets the job done, what do I care?

Hope you’re having an exceptional Saturday, pie-eaters! And if you’re a Pittsburgh person, hope to see you at the pie party tomorrow! FOURTH ANNUAL, HOLLA.

MOMMY IS THE BEST she took me to see Nevershoutnever! I saw a balloon I wanted to touch it but people were hitting it with there speed boost hands. THE RED JUMPSUIT SUCKS!!! HINT:SO DOES HENRY!?!??!?

My favorite song was CheaterCheaterBestFriendEater. The Red Jumpsuit sang 13 songs I said Erin kill me and I also said AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT. When NeverShoutNever was on Erin told me to tell the security that Christofer Drew Ingle was my brother and he left his BubbleGum in the car.  Mommy said write about the nevershoutnever “trouble” and how I almost cried even though I didn’t. me and Mommy saw this guys ass crack it was funny but we saw that guy again and mommy didn’t see this but he did a round off. Me and mommy kept making fun of daddys man boobs and he didn’t know.

This is Erin. Chooch said it’s my turn to write one sentence. So….my favorite song of the night was “On the Brightside” and Chooch just said, “Oh god, I knew you were going to write ‘On the Brightside’.” Well, then don’t ask!!! Back to Chooch.

By the way when the red jumpsuit was playing there was this guy that looked like Justin Bieber. The band before that was Maps And Atlases it was the best band ever but not as good as nevershoutnever. I loved my surprise it was awesome.

THE END
*****

Chooch displays his awesome cinematography skills:

Cheatercheaterbestfriendeater: