It’s been a week and I’m still in lala land. I’m currently on the way home from seeing an acoustic Emarosa show at Mahall’s and trying not to cry because it was everything I could have asked for. Because Henry needs a break from my hyper blathering, I figured I’d do some car-blogging before I get even more behind. 

My friend Amelia likes to ask questions on Facebook to spark conversation, and the other day she asked “What is you favorite sound?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. 

Music festivals. 

Specifically, Warped Tour. There is just something so beautiful, familiar, comforting about the cacophony of competing music in a parking lot of stages. It’s like an apocalyptic carnival that I can’t stop buying tickets for. 

The weather wasn’t very favorable but what can you do. This definitely wasn’t nearly as bad at the first day of Riot Fest last year, but made for some soggy TOMS. 

 This was Chooch’s third Warped Tour and he is basically a seasoned pro at this point. He s that schedule and scrutinizes the fuck out of it and knows the location of all of the stages before I do which is irritating because I hate when the student becomes the master. 

Grrrr.

Rain in b&w because I’m fancy sometimes.  

Waiting for Set It Off, much to Henry’s chagrin. Chooch changed into his newly-acquired Emarosa tank which is cut way more provocatively than anything he’d typically wear, as evidenced by his tanlines. 

Those shoes were red when we left the house. I think Chooch is telling Henry that he owes him money. He doesn’t forget about being owed money. WHO DOES. 

Merchaholic. 

I can’t find the proper words to illustrate just how happy I am that my kid goes to Warped Tour with me now. Henry’s mom was telling me that she was flipping through the latest issue of Alternative Press and was shocked he knew nearly every band there and was telling them whether or not he liked them and why. Being able to share this with him is such a beautiful part of parenting for me and I’m really honored that he wants to be involved. You know, when Henry picked up Janna and me from the Kurt Travis show last weekend and i screamed in Henry’s fave that Kurt Travis dedicated a song to me, Henry was like *smirky frown* but Chooch is the one who excitedly asked, “WHICH SONG?!”

I love that kid. 

Meanwhile, Cabbage was one of the better bands we saw that day. Their vegcore anthem “Get Slawed” was a real crowd-pleaser. 

UNTIL TOMORROW. LET THIS GOODBYE BRUSH YOU GENTLY ON YOUR EYELASHES LIKE A BUTTERFLY. 

I think I wrote this in my sleep. I’M TALENTED!

The “‘Getting Stuck Carrying Everyone’s Shit at Warped Tour, What Fucking Band Is This Anyway? Don’t Answer That, I Don’t Care'” shot.

(Shout out to that Zao shirt back there!)

The “Waiting For Never Shout Never To Start and Hoping Chooch Wants To Leave After That Because Let’s Go Son, I’m Ready; We’ll Come Back Later And Pick Up Your Mother” shot.

The “Henry Tries To Blend In After Losing His Kids During The Band Our Last Night, This Is Worse Than The Time He Was In The Service And Had To Fight In a Real Life War HaHa J/K That Was Just a Bad Dream” shot.

The “OMG Henry Has His Arm In The Air For Pierce The Veil….

Oh Wait, He’s Just Trying To Tame His Bushy Brows” shot.

The “Mmmm. Family Granola Bar Time At Warped Tour, Reminds Him of the Care Packages His Mom Sent Him When He Was In THE SERVICE” shot.

The “Where’s Henry?” shot.

The “Pretending I Dropped Something On the Floor At King’s So I Could Get a Crotch Shot” guest shot by Chooch.

The “‘Ugh, I Need To Stop Fingering Cabbage Patch Kids'” shot.

The “Waiting For the Furry Parade To Start, Wondering What Kind of Furry He Would Be If He Had the Courage, Probably a Ted Nugent Bear” shot.

I do this thing where, as I’m writing blog posts, I’m actually hearing myself talking in my head to a group of imaginary friends, kind of like when you’re preparing to take the stand in a murder trial by staring at yourself in a mirror and clearing your throat a lot. So while I was thinking of all the things I wanted to say in this post about Emarosa, my brain-voice was machine-gunning the words at such an alarming pace that I gave myself a headache.

In other words, I am fucking stoked as hell to tell you, imaginary friends, about how it felt to see Emarosa at Warped Tour last Thursday, a/k/a THE BEST DAY OF 2015 THUS FAR.

If you’re a new figment of my fake readership, let me give you a brief run-down of my love affair with Emarosa and why I didn’t give a shit who else was playing at the same time as them that day because this day trumps all. I fell in love with them in 2008 after Jonny Craig got kicked out of Dance Gavin Dance and picked up by Emarosa, currently in need a new singer. Jonny Craig was It for me back then so naturally Emarosa became my favorite band.

Jonny fucked them over big time in 2011, and so the rest of the band really had no choice but to part ways with him. Jonny was all, “Good luck Emarosa, you guys are nothing without me” and for awhile it was starting to look like he was right; they all but fell off the face of the earth, popping up sporadically to let Facebook and Twitter know that they weren’t done, they were still writing music and looking for a singer.

It took them three years, but they found Bradley Walden and proceeded to record their best album to date; it has never felt better being an Emarosa fan. My pride for them is so ridiculously over-the-top that you’d think Chooch was in the band.

Thinking of the shitty position that Jonny put Emarosa in (remember the MacBook scandal?) always leaves me with the bitter taste of chopped cabbage in my mouth.

(It’s worth noting that Emarosa only played the first leg of Warped Tour, and then a day after their last date, Jonny’s new band Slaves jumps on for the last leg. There was absolutely no overlap. #soblessed that the Pittsburgh date got Emarosa and not misogynistic, drama-perpetuating Slaves!)

I always get real on edge right before seeing a band that I’m super into, so around 4:30 (35 minutes before their set time), I started to feel pretty barfy, coupled with some intense pants-peeing giddiness. I mean that in all of the best ways, like back in high school when you would hide behind a corner, waiting to take a clandestine photo of Scott Dambaugh with your 35MM camera; or when you would have your mom drive you past his house; or when you and your best friend would walk “casual” laps around the mall while you hoped to spot him slinking about lazily in his billowing Stüssy pants, OMG IT WAS JUST LIKE THAT.

It had been raining, and I mean RA-HAY-NING, intermittently all day long, and it conveniently started up again right before 5:00. I was bummed, because Emarosa has been making huge waves this summer on Warped Tour, and were even bumped up to the main stage for one of the dates, thanks to their incredibly energetic performances. They’ve been growing more and more popular, and the pictures I had been seeing online showed that they were drawing really big crowds for a band playing on one of the smaller stages.

Unfortunately, the rain drove a ton of people clear to the other side of the venue, beneath the amphitheater’s sheltering roof, leaving very few of us to brave it out before the Kevin Says stage. By the time Emarosa came on, the rain was coming down in bullet-like sheets, and there were times I had to shut my eyes because it felt like my contacts were being knocked off my eyeballs.

But it was worth it. Fuck the rain! Bradley gave zero fucks about the weather and spent 95% of their set immersed in the audience. (The few times he was actually on stage, he was busy busting out basic gymnastics stunts and spinning Will upside down. He has done nothing short of busting his ass to win over the old Jonny Craig fans, and in the process, he has garnered a ton of new recruits as well. If I wasn’t such a blathering mess in these situations, I would like to hug him and thank him for breathing new life into Emarosa. And then I’d like to grovel in the faces of Will and Jordan about how grateful I am that they didn’t stop trying and how I never gave up, and how proud I am of them and most of all, fuck Jonny Craig! He was nothing but poison. I wasted so much time defending him when all he gave back was slurred performances and humiliating encounters. I’m too old to fuck around with that.

Moments after the above picture was taken, Bradley had crowd-surfed his way over to where I was standing and I got to touch him and was like OMFG about it for the rest of the day. Chooch likes to tell everyone that I cried, but I promise you I didn’t actually cry. I only cried once all day, and that was during PVRIS’s set. (MORE ON THAT IN ANOTHER POST.)

This was actually only my seventh time: 3x with Jonny as the singer, once with Tilian Pearson who was filling in when Jonny was forced to go to a detox facility, and 3x with Bradley. I am here to report that this was the best performance of them all. I was so excited that this was Chooch’s first time getting to see them live! He seemed really into it, and we were right in front of the barrier so he could see perfectly (not like Bradley was ever on the stage!) but there was a moment when I looked over my shoulder at Chooch and he was making this anguished face, so I thought to myself, “Oh boy, here we go. The Brat is surfacing.” Because he has a pretty low threshold when it comes to doing things he doesn’t want to be doing, so I thought maybe he had grown tired of Emarosa so quickly and was about to start whining about wanting to go home.

Boy, sit yo’ ass down. We ain’t leaving when Pierce the Veil is on next!

Anyway, I found out later that his contorted face was out of repulsion because there was a couple behind me who were making out, God forbid.

Just, wow. Bradley proves over and over that Jonny isn’t the only golden-throated angel in this scene. It makes me laugh that after Bradley had joined the band, Jonny was tweeting about how Emarosa wasn’t “allowed” to ever play “his” songs again, but they are. And Bradley is KILLING IT. “Set It Off Like Napalm” coming out of his mouth is almost too much for me to handle.

If we’re being honest here, I don’t think Emarosa is going to be this scene’s best kept secret much longer. They are too good and deserve mainstream success. I’m rooting for them so fucking hard.

***

Right after the last song ended (1996 On Bevard!), Bradley said he was going to be at their merch tent meeting everyone; after dropping the mic, he ran straight up that soggy, muddy hill, true to his word. We quickly followed, and thanks to the still-heavy rain, only about 20 people beat us there. There was a little bit of time to spare before Pierce the Veil, so I asked Chooch if he would be my proxy and meet Bradley and Chooch was like, “Yeah, duh.”

He’s clearly a pro at rubbing elbows with bands now, you guys.

“I dare you to tell him that he’s better than Jonny,” I said, laughing as we stood in line.

“What will you give me if I do?” he immediately asked, his wagering cap securely fastened under his chin. It’s never free with him! What happened to the days when the mere act of accepting and completing a dare was all the glory needed?

So I promised him a dollar. That little crook.

I know Chooch already posted this picture in his own blog post, but it is too glorious not to repost over and over again.

God I can’t even remember what happened now when it was Chooch’s turn, I was shaking so bad. But I will tell you that right after I took this picture, Chooch started to walk away but then turned back and said, “You’re better than Jonny.”

“Thanks, man!  I agree,” Bradley said, propelling me into a tailspin of IS THIS REAL LIFE.

I shot myself with a horse tranquilizer just in time to chime in with, “We’re Team Emarosa!” Bradley probably said “thanks” or something, but I couldn’t hear past the psychotic ringing in my ears.

“You’re so goddamn awkward,” Henry said after we walked away. WTF I felt like I was being pretty OK and normal for once? I dwelled on it on for the rest of the day, trying to recreate in my head what I must have sounded like. Probably Bullwinkle. So, thanks, Henry. I’m glad you fucking fell down the hill!

***

I’ve been going through serious withdrawals like I always do after a show, particularly Warped Tour. But the good news is that I’M GOING TO SEE EMAROSA AGAIN TOMORROW NIGHT IN CLEVELAND, WOO!

Hello world. This is Chooch and I’m going to tell you about what I did at Warped Tour. The first half, Erin.Is.Bae will do the second.

Part I: Pvris

I met Lynn Gunn at Warped Tour and I was so happy. I wanted to do that all day. And it was towards the end I met her. I was lucky because I was going to be the last person in line but someone begged the guy to go behind me. Because he didn’t want to look like a jerk in front of me. So I was 10x more happier. She’s in a band named PVRIS and they’re my number 1 favorite Band. They aren’t that old of a band they are pretty new. They’re from Boston.

Part II: NSN

I also enjoyed watching NeverShoutNever they were good. A lot of girls probably cried but I couldn’t hear over the noise. He used to have brown hair but now he has blonde hair. If you like BryanSTARS (Who does?) you might know he did a interview with Chris like about 2 years ago and Chris said that he didn’t want to answer bullshit questions to Bryan and he cried. It was actually sad.

Part III: We Came As Romans

I loved them! I saw them at my FIRST Warped Tour. I really want to meet them but I cant because they wont do a meeting*.

*(Erin here: I think they did do a meeting but it conflicted with something I wanted to do. And what I want to do trumps all.)

You should listen to them right now! Here’s a link to my favorite song:

I’m listening to them right now while I’m writing this. I really like them.

Part IV: Bradley

I met Bradley from Emarosa and mommy cried because she touched him. Also when we watched them people were making out behind me and I was really mad. His arms all warm and his hair was wet because shitty weather has to happen. I also told him that he’s better than Jonny. (In case you don’t know who Jonny is he used to be the singer of Emarosa and mommy liked him and now hes a douchebag and in a band named Slaves.)

VI: Merch

Well, I got CDs, shirts, comic book, two water bottles (one that I already broke the very next day and one that’s meant to be taken outside that I got for free by saying SKATER MOM to the people at the Vans tent), and gross stickers that came with a Koo Koo Kanga Roo CD called Gross.

Clearly, now you know why I like to go to Warped Tour: bands, music, meetings, merch!

 [Erin.Is.Bae here: I’m gonna owe him a damn cabbage roll now for writing this.]

Everyone is always OMGPITTSBURGH<3 and I’m just like, “Eh. Pittsburgh is alright.” This is probably why I don’t really fit the whole “Pittsburgh blogger” label.  However, the one time I REALLY love it here is during the annual Anthrocon!

You might already know that Pittsburgh has somehow, someway, become the official city of the furry convention. Most of my co-workers get so stoked for this time of the summer because furry-sighting is, how can I put this, FUCKING EXHILARATING.

But the reason it makes me love my city so much is that Pittsburgh of all cities has somehow banded together and invited an unconventional social group into its golden triangle.

Who knew that my city could be so open-minded? Go on with your progressive self, Pittsburgh.

Anthrocon has been held here since 2006 (I believe, and I’m too tied to look it up; for fucks sake, I’m writing this on my phone during Teen Wolf commercial breaks, so if you want facts, go turn on the news and hope for the best) but this year was the first time that they moved their parade outside so that anyone, even non-convention goers, could gather ’round and revel in the mascot circle jerk.

Henry and I brought Chooch downtown to be a part of this cuddly moment in anthropomorphic history. Chooch was fine, in a really mild and amiable mood the whole there on the trolley, but as we walked down Liberty Avenue on the way to the convention center, his Veruca Salt switch was flipped and we (and everyone who has the displeasure of sharing curb real estate with us) were treated to a royal shit show, a sticky meltdown of chocolate drama and vitriolic sprinkles dripping down Chooch’s face and hands.

The time bomb is ticking.

Eventually, he was straight writhing on the sidewalk, whining and moaning about his parents had the audacity to take his photosensitive ass out into the SWELTERING JULY SUN, and they wouldn’t even give him any water because THEY WANT HIM TO DIE.

I had a bottle of water. Every time I offered it to him, he kicked it away so guess what? NO WATER FOR YOU, JERK-SON. Seriously.

There was baby in a stroller, crying its face off across the street, and even that was less annoying that the defective attitude of my nine-year-old brat-child. I found out later that there were actually a lot of people there that I know, and either they just didn’t see me or Chooch’s rotating demon head was serving as a natural social deterrent.

Then I made Henry hold this sign and he started whining just as bad as Chooch.

It’s a miracle that Chooch even agreed to pause his public cry to Child Protective Services in order to have his photo taken with what I thought was Jesus Lizard, but then some dick on Instagram corrected me and said it was actually Raptor Jesus, which is disappointing because I thought it was an homage to the band.

But I guess that’s giving too much credit.

Still, it’s humorous to me that Chooch was wearing his Lucipurr shirt next to Jesus something-or-other. I should have asked him if he could perform a quick exorcism, but he was one of those serious, non-speaking furries.

Luckily, the parade started only a little bit behind schedule, and everyone erupted into happy cheers. Quite a crowd had formed and it was downright heartwarming. Such a nice display of acceptance, and some of the furries even yelled things like, “We love Pittsburgh!” as they strode past. (I mean, the ones who are allowed to speak, anyway.)

Chooch quickly realized that he could turn this parade into a competition to see who got more high-fives and suddenly he was alert and no longer googling “foster families” and “how to make a hobo bindle out of Henry’s bandannas” on the bedazzled phone he stole from the broad next to us.

I clearly won the high-five contest because hello — I’m the original competitive douchebag in our household. I got three high fives in a row that Chooch missed, so that went over real well. We both got some head pats, too; those were 5 points.

I was positively giddy with furry love. But, I’m pretty simple so I get easily swept away in moments of group camaraderie. Collecting high-fives was insanely enjoyable for me.

Henry got ZERO high fives because all of the furries probably thought he was a NARC.

I don’t know if these rabbits are from something, or if these costumes are original, but they were fucking fantastic either way.

The sun was blazing that day. I can only imagine that inside those suits of funfur was the rancid spice of curdled armpit sauce and rotting galumpki in a dumpster outside of the Terra Haute State Pen. Except that I’m not imaging it really because I don’t have time to throw up right now.

ONE OF THE FURRIES WAS WEARING A BRING ME THE HORIZON SHIRT.

Sadly, I didn’t see the Walrus, even though I know he was in town because Sandy spotted him the night before and texted me a picture of him. I kept waiting and waiting and Henry was like, “He’s not here” and I was like, “NO. HE HAS TO BE! HE’S GOING TO BE THE LAST ONE, BECAUSE HE’S THE BEST ONE.” But no. He wasn’t the grand marshal, like I had hoped. So sad.

After the parade, we stood in line for milkshakes with furries. Only in Pittsburgh.

Chooch and I were best friends again by the time we got home, don’t worry. I can’t stay mad at that jerk.

Sometime last month, Kurt Travis posted that he was trying to book a house show in Pittsburgh. It was an off day for the headlining solo tour he was doing and if you’re a regular reader or have the misfortune of working with me, you may recall that I begged Glenn to let me offer his house.

Spoiler: he said no.

But luckily, some guy took care of business and promoted the house show on Twitter. My emotions ran a veritable Tough Mudder.

First, I was completely stoked because I haven’t seen Kurt since the last time he was with A Lot Like Birds and I think that was 2 years ago at this point.

Second, I was overwhelmed because a house show meant Kurt would be totally accessible and you know how ridiculous I get. BANDS ARE PEOPLE TOO, ERIN.

Third, the tiny modicum of adult rationality I keep buried beneath my abundance of wanton abandon managed to surface and I was concerned for my safety because this house is in collegeland and what if it turned into a HOUSE PARTY and I get roofied? DOES THAT STILL HAPPEN? I’m pretty far removed from all of that.

Fourth, I felt preemptively self-conscious because while I don’t FEEL old, for this particular music scene, I AM old. It would be much less easy for me to blend in at a house show.

Fifth, I felt panicked because every single person I asked to go with me said no. If this show was at a venue, I wouldn’t have even bothered asking anyone. I’d have just gone alone.

Sixth, whimpering pity party sadness that Terri, the only friend I have who even knows who Kurt Travis is, lives in stupid Philly.

Glenn and Todd were loving this.

“You’ll have to show us the stitches from where they take your kidney,” Glenn said before he left work on Friday.

And Todd was all, “I used to live in Oakland [where the house is located] and nothing good happens in any of those houses.”

Oh and before you ask, Henry said no before the details of the house show were even finalized.

I had a small glimmer of hope when I ran into Blake’s ex-girlfriend Shannon at the mall Wednesday night. She is acquaintances with the guy who booked the show and said she was certain he wouldn’t roofie me, but that she didn’t know any of his friends, so…. But then she said she might be there and I got really excited so she reiterated the “might” part.

My seventh emotion was that of RELIEF on the day of the show when Janna agreed to go with me.

***

I made Henry drop us off there because I wasn’t trying to add the stress of parking in Oakland to my teetering stack of worries. First, I made him do a driveby of the house, which was actually a row house that seemed to have zero activity going on around it. But then we saw a group of young people (probably 21?) walking toward it so Henry was like, “Get out.”

“Not until they’re gone!” I cried. I didn’t want them to see me getting out of my dad’s car, god Henry.

It was around 7:30, so…now or ever. Janna and I tentatively climbed the steps to Planet Vegeta (lol). The front door was open so I walked in and found some guy lounging on the couch in a room that was in your standard college kid state of haphazard uncleanliness, the promise of tetanus  and rodent infestation lurking beneath every casually-strewn pizza box.

“Is this where the Kurt Travis show is?” I asked the comfortable man.

“Yep, it is!” he answered not in the apathetic manner I was anticipating, but in a friendly, inviting tone instead.

When I’m nervous, self-deprecation falls out of me like hot, salty ejaculate from the mouth of a hooker with strep throat. (Sorry for the porn-fingers.) I vaguely recall saying something about being “too old for these things hahahahah *kill me*” and he just laughed and said, “Everyone is out back. Make yourself at home!”

So, narrowly avoiding kicking a soccer ball through a window, we wound our way through the kitchen and out a screen door, where KURT TRAVIS was hanging out with the other bands. Small cliques of people were sitting around awkwardly, so add two more to the awkward party, I guess!

It was REALLY uncomfortable for about the first 20 minutes. I’m not going to lie, there was a split second when I considered leaving. But then Dylan, the guy who booked the show, came over to take our money and mark our hands with a green X. Someone put on an 80s playlist, Madonna first and then The Cure came on which calmed my nerves considerably. Especially when the music stopped because the owner of the phone it was playing from had to make a call, and when he came back, someone asked, “What should we put on now?”

“I was happy with The Cure, but whatever,” Kurt said in a way that meant “PUT THE CURE BACK ON.”

(They did not put The Cure back on, but whatever.)

Then Janna was like, “I really hate to have to do this—” and here is where I thought she was going to hold up her phone and show me that her Uber confirmation because SEEYA, this scene ain’t for me, bitch!

“—-but I have to use the bathroom really bad and I’m so afraid to go back in there.”

Oh, thank god that’s all!

But then I realized that this meant she was going to be leaving me out there, alone, OMG.

A minute later she came back.

“There’s no one in there to ask,” she complained.

“OMG, just go back in and look for the bathroom. I promise you that these people give zero fucks about a strange girl using their bathroom,” I said. It was bad enough that I was already the Old Lady at the House Show. I didn’t want to also become The Old Lady at the House Show With the Other Old Lady Who Shit Herself.

And so Janna forged her way back into the house and located the bathroom without even needing a map, as evidenced by the victory text I received from her that said, “I found it. Nobody here to care that I walked up here.”

Janna, conquering frat house floor plans, one campus at a time.

Meanwhile, I was leaning against Divorce.’s van, cracking the fuck up by myself, because what a fucking night already. It’s funny how this shit is normal when you’re 20 years old, but when you’re 35, every single second of it was fucking hilarious. I kept texting updates t o Henry, Corey, and Wendy, who actually said that she would have gone with me if she didn’t have to go to a wedding. AND SHE IS PREGNANT, YOU GUYS. That is a true friend.

Then a rousing game of hacky sack started up and I was silently praying that no one would kick it to me because I am a failure at hackying the sacks.

I texted Henry, “Some guy* is sitting in Kurt’s van, staring at me. He looks like a young Charles Manson, help.”

Henry: “Lol.”

Thanks, Henry!

*(I couldn’t figure out where I knew him from, because he looked so familiar. I was running down a list of bands in my head, but I couldn’t place him in any of them. Turns out he was helping with merch on this tour and I recognized him because the Blue Swan scene is so small and I’m always seeing him pop up on Instagram and Twitter because he’s friends with pretty much all of those bands. I am way too immersed in this scene, help me, I’m drowning.)

Around 8:15, divorce. was ready to start and everyone was ushered down a precarious set of spiraling concrete steps into a tiny basement, and then the night proceeded to go from 100% awkward to 100% FUCKING AWESOME.

These guys are from here (Pittsburgh), and that makes me proud because they are just the kind of passionate, gritty emo/grunge band that I find myself often craving.  I’m keeping on an eye (and an ear, oh ho!) on these ones. They’re gonna go places.

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I already can’t wait to see them again!

After their set, everyone retreated for the cool air. We sat down in the parking lot and Janna complained about being sweaty and wanting water. That’s not being very punk rock, Janna.

While we were waiting for Save Us From the Archon, Janna and I talked about looking for new jobs, trying to get out and do more things, and Chooch. It occurred to me that we were sitting in a back lot with a bunch of people 10+ years younger than us passing around bowls and drinking cans of cheap beer, while we were talking about grown-up life bullshit.

It’s ridiculous that this post is so age-focused but please remember that the music scene I’m into is young and I really am an anomaly.

And then Janna said, with just a note of surprise to her tone, “I liked that band! They were good!”

“Well duh, Janna. I don’t like sucky music!” scoffed my music-snob alter ego. Seriously! If people would actually pay attention to what I say, then maybe they would be listening to good music, too. NO ONE TAKES ME SERIOUSLY! #pityppartyonpioneeravenue

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This was my second time seeing local mathcore favorites Save Us From the Archon. If you don’t like any music along the lines of post-rock, then you probably definitely won’t like SUFTA. Me? I think they’re brilliantly gifted musicians and, as someone who has no musical talent (save for playing the clarinet moderately well in middle school), it blows my mind watching their hands and fingers move and trying to work out in my feeble mind how they play such crazy-technical shit that makes my chest feel like an alien is about to punch its way out. It’s a frenetic, metal-tinged meltdown in all of the best senses.

(Needless to say, Henry was not sad that he was missing them. We saw them last year at the Hail the Sun/Stolas/Icarus the Owl show at Smiling Moose.)

There was a girl nearby who looked in awe and said, “OK, I am definitely learning how to play the guitar.” That made me happy.

While SUFTA was playing, the sun had set, so we retreated from the basement to an absolutely beautiful, mild night. There was even a slight breeze and it felt so fucking good after sweating in that basement. “It’s practically winter out here!” I said to the girl who wants to learn the guitar and she agreed and THAT IS HOW YOU TALK TO PEOPLE, APPARENTLY. I’m relearning these things.

Some young guy walked past us and said, “I have to sit down; my legs are killing me.”

I laughed and said to Janna, “God, who’s the old person now!?”

You guys, that’s Kurt going nuts during Adventurer’s set, no big deal. He kept grabbing the mic and singing along. It’s fucking refreshing that there is so much camaraderie and passion between bands. They told us that Kurt is their mom, which is adorable because you can tell that he looks after the young bands he take s on the road with him and I JUST WANTED TO CRY because I’m an emotional wreck even on a good day. Add amazing live music to the mix and I’m suddenly a house wife watching a Nicholas Sparks movie.

(By the way, Adventurer? They’re a three-piece post-hardcore band from Michigan. Go get stoked on them, NOW. Kurt doesn’t just take any run of the mill band on tour with him.)

Oh god, and then Kurt. I’ve seen him twice with Dance Gavin Dance, three times (at least) with A Lot Like Birds, and once by himself when he was on Jonny Craig’s solo tour in 2012, but none of those times even come close to being as perfect as this was. It doesn’t get much more intimate than seeing a singer you respect that much…..in some dude’s basement.

Adventurer acted as his backing band, and there was a hilarious moment where Kurt hunted down Steven (Adventurer’s guitarist) and kept trying to kiss him until, at last, he was successful and everyone cheered.

He sang “Desperate” and I was like *HEART EYES* because that song punches me in the gut every time.

At one point, Kurt brought up the fact that he was the oldest person in the room, I can’t remember why it came up now. But we made eye contact when he said that and I shook my head “no.”

“If anyone in this room is older than 31, raise your hand.”

I raised my hand.

“You??” he said in a shocked tone, which let me tell you, I truly appreciated. “No.”

“Yep. I’m 35!” I announced, and everyone craned their necks to get a good look at the token old broad.

Kurt shook his head and smiled. “Damn, I thought for sure I was the oldest one here! OK then, I dedicate this next song to you!”

O M F G.

In that moment, I was filled with gratitude that Janna was there as a witness. FINALLY, BEING OLD WORKED IN MY FAVOR!

(I still don’t feel old though. And I was showing more signs of life than half of those comatose motherfuckers last night!)

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Kurt asked, “Anyone here like The Cure?” There were only two of us in the basement who answered affirmatively. Kurt told us that when he was a kid growing up in Sacramento, his mom was a dancer for Reebok and Adidas and he would often accompany her on drives back and forth to LA, where he would spend a lot of time listening to The Cure, specifically “Disintegration.”

“This next song was heavily influenced by The Cure,” he explained, before playing “Everything Is Beautiful.”

Meanwhile, Steven had stepped on glass or a syringe or who knows what and a small pool of blood had formed on the basement floor while the tour manager ran to get a first aid kit. And he just kept right on playing.

Kurt declined Steven’s request for him to kiss it.

I don’t even know what else to say about this night other hearing his beautiful voice within a small cinderblock-walled room was something that I will never forget and I definitely would have lived to regret it had I not gone, just like I still to this day regret missing a Frank Turner house show in 2010 because I had just started an evening assignment with a temp agency, ugh forever. I remember that I considered calling off and Henry, who rarely says no to me, gave me a Look that said, “Are you fucking kidding me, we’ve been poor as FUCK for the last year, you are GOING TO THIS JOB AND YOU ARE GETTING PAID.” Ugh, sometimes Henry has a point.

***

After the show, I waited semi-patiently while two guys fan-girled in Kurt’s face, because I had decided that I was not leaving this house without officially meeting him. And saying, “Can you sign this?” after I bought his EP from him in 2012 does not count.

“It was totally worth being the oldest broad in the room for this,” I said, trying not to gush.

“I couldn’t believe anyone here was going to be older than me!” he laughed.

Then Janna popped up from out of nowhere and said, “I’m older than her, just so you know” and I was like “GTFO YOU ARE NOT GOING TO RUIN MY MOMENT!” so then she retreated into her hole and I went on to tell him that I’ve always been a huge Dance Gavin Dance fan, and I obviously love his current band A Lot Like Birds, so it was worth enduring a potentially awkward situation to see him that night.

He graciously thanked me AND THEN GAVE ME A HUG!

He told me a little bit about the tour, and how he was said that In Angles couldn’t be there tonight (and I was sad too because I have been listening to them ever since he first gave them a shout out on Instagram) and it’s just really awesome how humble he is, and always ready to support and promote other bands before talking about his own. He is a real diamond in this scene.

I didn’t want to keep him any longer, so I wished him safe travels and then Janna and I headed out of the basement.

“Way to steal my moment, Janna! God, I was waiting for you to pull out your cane to prove you’re older than me!” and Janna laughed but I was serious!

Then Henry and Chooch rolled up and I screamed in Henry’s face, “KURT TRAVIS DEDICATED A SONG TO ME AND HE HUGGGGGGGGED ME!!!” Henry was like “…..” but Chooch had a ton of questions about this, because Chooch gets it, you guys.

***

This night.

It was utter perfection.

In fact, it was better than rolling cabbages down a hill toward Jonny Craig bowling pins.

P.S. In case you care, this is my all-time favorite Kurt Travis song even though it’s a Dance Gavin Dance song:

P.P.S. I survived and my organ-count is the same as it was Saturday morning, so in your face, GLENN!

It happened in between PVRIS and Emarosa. We were walking down a hill, headed to the Black Craft Cult merch tent because Henry wanted to get a larger size in the Lucipurr shirt he bought for Chooch. Henry was in front of us when Chooch spotted the Warped Youtubers tent over to the left. A small line had formed, idiot girls waiting to get their pictures taken with these kids who are inexplicably Youtube famous.

What a world we live in, where the term “Youtube famous” is a thing.

“I want to meet BryanStars,” Chooch decided right then and there. “I just want to hear him say ‘Werped Ter.'”

As I mentioned in a previous post, Chooch and I like to watch these Warped Tour videos on YouTube and crack up at how some of the Midwestern Youtubers say Warped Tour. Bryan Stars is the major one who we ironically watch, and it drives Henry up the wall. He absolutely cannot stand this kid, because Henry is an Internet bully.

I’m not really sure how Bryan Stars became “famous,” but he has been interviewing bands on YouTube for years. One of his sit-downs with Never Shout Never turned into a notorious shit show and Bryan Stars is so beloved by his fans, that NSN ended up taking a lot of heat for blowing up at him. (Christofer Drew even made him cry!) It is incredibly painful to watch.

So we get in line and I’m like, “Whyyyyy are we doing this? This is so embarrassing!” and Chooch is all, “No it will be great. We’ll just hear him say Werp Ter and then we’ll leave.”

And then Henry realized we weren’t behind him anymore and had to retrace his steps. Please see above photo for his reaction when he saw what we were in line for.

“Daddy’s so disappointed in us,” Chooch laughed.

So then it was our stupid turn and Bryan was all, “Hey man, what’s up?”

Chooch: *becomes a cabbage*

Me: *Gets Warped Tour schedule wet with tears as I see all the bands we’re missing at this moment*

Bryan: Do you watch my videos?

Chooch, nervously: Uh….not really.

Me: *dies slowly*

Bryan: Do you want a picture?

Chooch, shrugging again: Sure, OK, yeah, I guess.

Me: *take the fastest picture of my life while backing away*

Bryan: Do you want to meet Jordan? Hey Jordan, come here.

Chooch: *……….*

Me: *please make it end*

Jordan: *lots of awkward body movements that I think might have been a wave*

Me: *This is so dumb*

Bryan: Um, so, do you like, want to be in a band when you grow up?

Chooch: Uh, not really.

Me, desperately attempting to make a fissure in the ice: I want him to be, but he’s going to end up being something stupid….like a doctor.

[No one laughs.]

Jordan: *reaches out awkwardly to shake my hand*

Me: *swept away in a gust of awkwardness*

Bryan: So…..are you having fun at Werp Ter?

Chooch: *explodes*

And then for the next hour, Chooch relived this moment and cracked the fuck up.

I was so pissed off at him though, because they were so awkward to begin with, and Chooch was making it worse by barely answering their questions, so then I felt obligated to say words and the whole time I was like WHY AM I STANDING HERE WITH THESE KIDS?!

Meanwhile, we found out later that right after we ditched Henry to go to the Warped YouTubers tent, Henry slid down the hill.

That was literally the only bad part of the day. Henry slid down the hill.

AND WE MISSED IT.

But, Chooch got to hear ‘Werp Ter’ so I guess that’s all that matters.

(Ugh, it pains me to admit this, but those guys were super sweet and adorable, even while slowly pulling us down in their awkward quicksand.)

When Henry suggested going to Rogers flea market last Friday, I felt inexplicably hyped about it and answered with an emphatic FUCK TO THE YES. Subconsciously, I feel like I love flea markets and I’ll tell you why: because of the few (very few) instances where I have gone to a flea market and found something incredible. But the reality is that this happens fairly infrequently, so then I just get bored and frustrated because I’m not the kind of person who can stand around and patiently sift through people’s unwanted shit.

I know, you’re really shocked that I have no patience.

So  this particular flea market is about 45-60 minutes away in Ohio and it’s really large. Like, everyone I know who is into flea marketing loves this place. I have been there once before, in 2009, but for some reason, I barely remember anything about it other than buying an old Coke crate, which Henry and I fought about because he didn’t want to have to carry it around with him all day.

We made a pit stop to a mall that was on the way because Henry needed to buy new shoes and then while we were there, we stopped at Hot Topic and Chooch actually got mad and threw a fit because we bought him stuff and he didn’t want anything, which translates into: we bought him stuff but not the stuff he actually wanted.

GOD WHERE DOES HE GET THIS!?

So that was fun. The good thing about Chooch though is that he can be easily brought back around with some mild cajoling and teasing. But just when we thought the day was going to be a fun family affair after all, we hit traffic about 5 miles out from the flea market.

Traffic on a rural road.

Gridlocked traffic on a rural road WITH NO CELL SERVICE.

We honestly just sat there on this shitty road for nearly 2 hours, outside of houses that looked like Leatherface was going to bolt through the front doors at any given moment (see below). (OK fine, that would probably be pretty exciting, but still—sitting in an unmoving car! Just so many ughs to be had!)

I couldn’t text (and I was desperately trying to text Monica a Days of Our Lives ISA reference), I couldn’t play Spotify from my phone, XM service cut out, and when Henry turned on the regular radio, THE FIRST SONG THAT PLAYED WAS NICKELBACK.

I started to fucking cry.

Henry was like, “Oh my god, seriously?” and changed the station like a normal, functioning adult.

The most exciting part was when a young Amish girl bicycled past us along the side of the road. Everyone in traffic was like “yay.” And then a young couple had the right idea by walking to the flea market (I know this because we saw them later on, at the flea market) and the boy part of the couple said, “Nice hair!” to Chooch as they strode past our static car. The boy was pretty scene, so Chooch was like, “I’ll take it.”

It was after 2 by the time we got to the fucking place, which is so large that it requires PARKING ATTENDANTS, most of whom were wearing overalls and/or plaid shirts. Once we parked, Henry was mad because I told him he had double-parked so then he had to start the car, oh noes, and fix his fucked-up parking job. Then he was mad again because Chooch and I had to put on sunscreen when we supposedly “could have done that while we were sitting in traffic for two hours.” Hello, I’m not getting that shit in my car!

Let me summarize this flea market up for you real good and nice: it is just like putting one hundred of any ordinary flea markets next to each other in one giant lot, and adding food vendors that you’d see at not the really good county fairs, but the small ones that have uninspected carnival rides.

Here is a list of all of the things that Henry did (or didn’t do) that ruined my whole entire day:

• rent a flatbed truck in case we found all of the antique wheelchairs to add to my collection.
• when I said, “Aw this is cute” in response to a cat purse I picked up from a table, his reaction was not to fling a wad of bills at the seller.
  • Instead, he nodded and kept walking.
  • I CLEARLY WANTED THAT PURSE.
• Henry bought us ice cream and the maple-flavored soft serve I got didn’t taste very maple-y.
  • Henry then proceeded to buy a bottle of water for himself but did not ask me if I wanted water, as well.
    • Yes, I wanted water.
• I also wanted coffee but Henry didn’t seem like he was in a hurry to procure this for me. This added another Henry-log to the Hate Fire.
• Chooch had to go to the bathroom and Henry was too busy standing in line for Chooch’s crappy food, so I had to help him find a bathroom all by myself!!!!!
• THERE WERE CONFEDERATE FLAGS AND STUPID PEOPLE EVERYWHERE AND THIS ALSO WAS HENRY’S FAULT.
• Some lady offered Henry a chair at a table that Chooch was eating his food at, BUT NOT ME. BECAUSE PEOPLE ONLY CARE ABOUT HENRY.

Needless to say, we left as soon as Chooch finished his food. It was a burger or a hot dog, who the fuck knows. We were there for probably a grand total of 45 minutes, and that’s being generous with my flimsy time estimations. This explains why I can’t remember much about the last time we came here: my rage blackouts wiped out my memory.

As soon as we started to pull out of the lot, I got all bi-polar-y and demanded that Henry re-park the car because I didn’t want to sit in the car again after being in the car for so long and he was just like, “Sincerely go and fuck yourself” and I was like “CHOOCH I WILL FIND YOU A NEW DADDY, JUST YOU WAIT” and Chooch was like, “Can I have a new mom, also?” and it was just REAL FUN TIMES in my car that’s not Henry’s car but I let him drive it.

As soon as we got back on that awful rural road, THERE WAS NO TRAFFIC going toward the flea market. None. Zip. Zilch. (I have never used the word “zilch” before, I don’t think.)

Henry broke the silence a few minutes into our vitriolic return trip by spitting, “Do you still want water?” to which I replied, “Yeah, I wanted water an hour ago when you only bought it for yourself.” He really liked this answer, as evidenced by the way he yanked the steering wheel at the last minute and squealed into the parking lot of Gorby’s gas station.

I refused to go in with him, and when he came back out, he threw a bag at me and said, “Here, asshole.” In the bag was some kind of cherry fry pie, some country thing I guess, and I was like, “UGH THANKS!” because I wanted cherry pie the previous week and stupid Eat n Park didn’t have any.

Then Henry and I tried not to smile at each other.

About a mile down the street, Henry nearly didn’t stop when we came upon some antique land mine that I had commented on when we initially drove past it TWO HOURS AGO.

“Oh, I guess we’re not stopping there,” I said in that adorable sneer I use when I’m really trying to remind Henry that I was born spoiled and cannot be changed.

So he did that angry jerk of the steering wheel again, kicking up dust on the broken country asphalt.

It was called the Company Store and it was full of a LOT of shit. The walkways inside the house were precariously narrow, tunneling through stacks of breakables, and there were just enough people there to make it uncomfortable and awkward. Lots of faux-friendly “excuse me”s and sheepish smiles after accidentally rubbing up on someone while trying to exit a room full of books about Nixon. I kept having to squeeze past the same lady in every room and I just know that after 14th curt smile, she was turning around and mouthing “fucking bitch.” It’s OK.

I was doing it, too.

Haunted jewels and lipstick.

Henry, conveniently, was always one room ahead of me to avoid my incessant begging and whining. But there was a swag lamp in the back room and I really wanted it so I found that moustacioed tight wad and decided to be assertive this go-around, no mind games, so I said, “I want that fucking swag lamp. You go and find someone who works here, ask how much it is, and then fucking buy it for me or I’ll goddamn kill you.”

I think we were clear on this one.

So while he set off, with slumped shoulders, to find someone in charge, Chooch and I roamed the property and managed to not fall onto any rusty spikes or have any run-ins with the box car children living on that parked train down on the nearby railroad tracks.

Still mad that we bought him a cat shirt and Manic Panic at Hot Topic.

THEN SUDDENLY, around the side of the house, we saw a flash of fur, but if Chooch was writing this post, he would be sure to stress the fact that he saw it first.

“IT’S A CAT!” Chooch cried in ecstasy, and fell to his knees to peer into the hole beneath the house into which the cat disappeared.

I was in no hurry to go back inside that hoarder’s paradise, so I sat down in the grass and joined Chooch in calling the cat. Chooch will tell you that he is the one who lured the cat out from beneath the house, but I am really quiet masterful at saying “here kitty kitty kitty” really fast, just the way they like it.

(All of my cats fell for that, except for Marcy. She would glare at me so hard.)

Chooch is terrible at naming things and so he named the cat Oreo. Henry found us a few minutes later and did that thing where he makes an exasperated face and throws his arms up in the air. But then he told me that he found someone and that it was $30 and I was like, “So why isn’t it in your hands right now?”

Henry stormed off to re-find the lady who worked there (there was another junk-filled house down the street and the three older people running the joint primarily loafed (shout out to my dad) in that one, probably because it was slightly less disgusting.

I left Chooch with Oreo (ugh) and got to witness one of the old ladies nearly breaking every hanging lamp in the backroom and administering concussions to the handful of people that were milling about as she struggled to carry a ladder over to where Henry was waiting beneath my swag lamp. (I had a stupid Instavid of this scene, but my phone ate it.) Then she knocked $5 off the cost of the lamp since Henry climbed the ladder and removed it from the ceiling himself.

As we slowly made our way out of the house, Henry walked past some older woman who was coming out of a side room.

“Wow, whatcha got there?” she asked him.  He was like, “A lamp…?”

As Henry walked away, her husband popped out of another room right in front of me, and the lady said to him, “I thought that was you and I was thinking, ‘What the hell is he doing with that lamp?'” and then she laughed in relief.

Bitch, more swag for me then!

Oreo is basically tamed now.

Before leaving, we stopped in the other house to use the bathroom, and Henry was already prepared to buy Chooch a pillow with cats all over it, because we knew once he saw it, he was going to ask for it.

And he did.

While Henry was paying the man, I asked him what the cat’s name was.

“What cat?” he asked, puzzled.

“I don’t know, there’s a black and white cat out there,” I shrugged.

“I didn’t know we had a cat out there, but I’ll sell him to ya!” he laughed.

Chooch’s face lit up and just as he was about to say, “CAN WE!?” Henry and I simultaneously said no and pushed him out the door.

By the time we went to Pit Stop for dinner, Henry was mad at us again. WE WERE BEING FUCKING ANGELS THOUGH.

My Yelp nemesis gave this place 5 stars and I was hoping for a reason to be contrary, but my grilled cheese actually came on good, thick bread (nothing worse than when a restaurant puts that shit on basic Wonder Bread and charges $6) and the fries were The Kinds That I Like a/k/a The Good Kinds. (14 years with me and Henry still can’t figure out my criteria.) Then Henry said something about going somewhere, and I just love to harass Henry for  the way he says “going” so then Chooch and I sat there yelling “GOYNG! GOYNG!” because that’s how Henry says it.

Henry pretty much shut down after that.

Some old man at another table was losing his shit over that whole “Adding peas to guacamole” Internet fiasco that has thankfully seemed to have died down.

“YA JUST DON’T PUT PEAS IN IT!” he barked.

I’m going to write my own recipe that calls for adding cabbage to it.

We went and looked at the gross river afterward. Somewhere along the way, Chooch put on the cat shirt that he said he liked but then got mad when we bought it.

Not mad enough to not wear it, though.

After we returned home, I allowed Henry to rest for an hour and then we went to Home Depot where I bought more succulents.

NINE MORE.

*************

The tl;dr version of this post is:

Chooch and I are spoiled and Henry can’t read minds.

Chooch’s version is:

So boring and long.
[P.S. I don’t have a photo of the swag lamp yet because Henry had to take it apart to clean it; it apparently came from a house where numerous people smoked several packs of Pall Malls a day.]

  
10:05am: After pretty much arguing all morning because Henry is insensitive to the fact that this is my favorite day of the year, I am now officially in line to get in! Henry and Chooch had to go to Will Call so Henry could get his complimentary Parent Ticket. So I’m just here alone pretending like I don’t care that I’m alone while silently stewing in a jealous pot at all the people who are here with friends. :(

Amber 2 texted me and said that Glenn hopes it rains on me today. What a jerk!

10:35: Two scene girls just walked by and yelled, “Look at that kid’s hair!” And then the one said, “You’re perfect!” And now Chooch’s face is beet red haha. 

10:45: Chooch just had a long convo with one of the guys from Koo Koo Kanga Roo about PVRIS and cats and now people in line notice us and I hate being noticed so thanks Mr. Popularity. 

  
11:12: WE’RE IN! HenrY stood in line for a schedule while Chooch and I straight sprinted across the land so he could shout SKATER MOM at the Van’s tent in exchange for free shit. Henry caught up to us and said, “I don’t think you’ll have a problem!” as he handed me the schedule but HELLO DOES HE NOT KNOW ME? Like three bands I want to see all play around the same time, FML. 

12:32: After getting woken up by Palisades, we had a dance party with Koo Koo Kanga Roo, Chooch’s new idols.  

 Now we’re waiting for Our Last Night to end and We Came As Romans to start and we’re laughing because henry lost us lol. 

  
WE SEE U HENRY. 

1:00: WCAR are on now and I’m like I know none of these songs and Chooch is all god mommy. (He likes them, not me.) Before playing a song they were like “This is about loving each other and supporting each other. Now open up that pit and FUCK EACH OTHER UP!” God I love this scene. 

1:47: NEVER SHOUT NEVER SIGHTING!

  
Henry was more excited than any of us. 

3:06: WHAT U MISSED–Henry fed us & Chooch got to sing along happily to Never Shout Never. 

  
Now we’re at the Journeys stage waiting for Hands Like Houses and Transit is playing on the stage next to us so it’s perfect. Also the sky is blue but random raindrops are keeping us cool here and there. Today is wonderful! 

4:38: Chooch is making me stand in line to meet the Warped YouTubers FML.  

5:58: watched Emarosa’s set in a straight rainstorm, totally worth it, I TOUCH BRADLEY SCOTT WALDEN fuckkkkkkk. 

6:30ish: Set It Off after Pierce the Veil and meeting Lynn Gunn from PVRIS has Chooch like: 

7:06: so live blogging wasn’t as feasible as I thought because downtime was a bare minimum this year, but I have tons of pictures to inundate you with over the next few days (weeks?) once I come down off this high. HOW IS IT OVER SO SOON?? 

Oh, Henry wants me to tell you that when we were waiting for Hands Like Houses, he had to go and call work because he fucked something up, haha, and some guy moved Henry out of the way and said “GO THIS WAY” and Henry realized the guy was security and was trying to corral Vic and Jaime from Pierce the Veil to safety so they wouldn’t get mobbed. He tried to tell me as soon as he came back to the Journeys stage but I haughtily said, “YEAH I CANT HEAR YOU” because I assumed that Henry couldn’t possibly be telling me something that mattered. 

There was a rainbow when we were on our way out, with Bless the Fall playing in the background. How fucking perfect I AM CRYING.   

There was only one bad thing that happened all Warped Tour, and that was when Chooch and I missed Henry FALLING DOWN THE HILL when we were standing in line for the Warped YouTubers!! Ugh!!! Henry just now mumbled to himself, “My leg still hurts from when I fell….” 

8:19: Recuperating at King’s with some post-Warped power slaw. Chooch was yammering about, “Yeah well I touched Bradley’s arm pit!” when the waitress came over and she was like “……” 

Today, I was going to further desecrate and defame my relationship with Henry by writing IN DETAIL about the horrible, dreadful, almost-broke-up-over, July 3rd we had. And I still probably will, but today I was way too preoccupied with JITTERS and GIDDINESS and ROLLER COASTER STOMACH because it’s motherfucking Warped Tour Eve and all I want to do is fantasize about this:

and daydream about this:

and get stoked for this:

and Chooch is going to cry over this:

I’m going to attempt to live blog tomorrow because I love live blogging and I love Warped Tour and IT JUST MAKES SENSE because god forbid I forget to record a single Henry frown or scene kid side-swoop or EVERY TIME I DIED. I even made a “Don’t Forget” list at work today, like I even really needed it, but it made me happy to write things down that I need to bring with me to WARPED TOUR, ahhhh!

I love that my work friends play into this shit with me. Todd was even on the Warped Tour website, looking at the list of bands, and sarcastically saying things like, “Wow, I’m really excited that H2O is going to be there.” And then when I was leaving, they were like “OMG HAVE FUNNNN!” like I was running off to get married. Even Glenn mumbled, “havefun.” when he left today, but I think he is actually pretty stoked because he finally gets a reprieve for a day.

***

Chooch and I were fighting in the car on Sunday (what else is new), and I  cried, “Chooch isn’t going to Warped Tour with us because he’s going to ruin my day!”

Chooch yelled, “Oh please, SHE is going to ruin MY day!”

Henry chimed in and said, “I don’t know what you two are arguing for. The only one who ever has their day ruined at Warped Tour is me.” He’d rather stay home and manscape his beard into a cabbage patch. 

We do this super fun and not at all obnoxious thing where we play Warped Tour “survival” YouTube videos on the TV and Henry gets so irritated because it’s always some apathetic scene kid drowning in their own Hot Topic sponsered ennui, making awkward faces, and telling everyone not to forget to bring their ticket and how like staying hydrated is important and shit. There was one girl in particular who got on Henry’s nerves so bad that I subscribed to her channels and then put on a video of her talking for 8 minutes about how she had nothing to say, followed by a tutorial with her friend Maddie (who is not going to Warped Tour this year) on how to follow boxed cake directions. 

Chooch’s faves are the YouTubers from the Midwest who pronounce it “Werp Ter.”

***

There is no way I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.

EMAROSA THO!!!!!!!!

Wow, is it time for Henry Bombs already? Are you guys tired of these yet? HENRY IS! I didn’t get very many bombs this weekend because most of Friday was spent hating each other (we were stuck in traffic for two hours en route to a stupid flea market and hated each other so bad that the option of getting married just so we could go through a nasty divorce and ruthless custody battle may have been put on the table) and then I just didn’t care much after that.

But anyway.

The “Henry Waits Four Seasons To Start Watching Teen Wolf and Then Asks ‘Who’s that?‘ and ‘Why is this happening?‘ and ‘Is she a werewolf, too?*‘ While Eating a Hot Dog Wrapped In Bread**” shot.

*No, she’s a coyote, asshole! Try to keep up!

**No, it wasn’t Hot Naybor Chris’s  charity bread. :(

The “We Just Spent An Entire Afternoon Hating Each Other And Now Henry Is Considering Thelma&Louise’ing This Car Off a Cliff, Chooch Put Your Seat Belt On” shot.

The “Getting Ready To Eat Dinner In Silence After a Shitty Day Together, Check His Pockets For Hemlock” shot.

The “Contemplating Single Life, Lamenting That He Forgot To Order Cole Slaw” shot.

The “Casual Stroll Through The Pit Stop Parking Lot, YOU’RE LUCKY I FED YOU TWO AFTER THE SHIT YOU PULLED TODAY!!!” shot. 

The “When You’re Admiring A Beautiful Tree Without Judging Its Crookedness & Then You Realize MICHAEL MYERS Is Standing Behind It, Oh Wait, Bro, That’s Just Henry Being a Goddamn Creep” shot. 

The “Happy Independence Day From Mr. Made In America,  Star Spangled Henry!” Shot. 

The “Sweeping Up the Red, White & Blue Confetti That Fell Out Of His Ass, God Bless America” shot.  

The “Forgot He Was SO OVER US & Took Us To See Jurassic World” shot.  

(At first I thought, “Ew what’s wrong with my face in this picture?” And then I realized, “Oh my face. My face is what’s wrong with my face.” Lol.)

You guys, I did something really brave the other day. After five years of living underneath crushing guilt, I finally came clean and confessed to Gayle that I had used my deaf Mexican alter ego, Manuel, to prank call her once at work:

2010 Gayle was not amused by this, but 2015 Gayle took it well! (Gayle goes by Abby outside of work, so I thought that having Manuel refer to her as such would make it seem more legit BUT I GUESS NOT.)

I feel much better now.

Every so often, though, I really miss my alter ego. I had to put him to rest a few years ago when the FCC cracked down on supposed “abusers” of the IP Relay service.

I mean, maybe I did use it a little too often.

Mostly, I would just post the transcripts, but sometimes Henry would give me his phone so that I could record the voice mails he would get from the IP operators (he quickly began to recognize the number because I used the service to call him so often, and he refused to answer). Sadly, I only have two of them now.

I wish I had a recording of the time I used it to call my brother Corey. It was some cracked-out story about someone waiting to shit out their crown so they could take it to the dentist, but it was way more demented than that because it was coming from me, and then a few days later, Corey was in the car with me and Janna and he was all, “OMG I forgot to tell you about this fucked up voicemail that I got!” and he proceeded to play it for us and I was straight sobbing from the side-stitches my laughter was inflicting upon me, and Corey just kept going on and on about how startled he was and that it was clearly the wrong number, etc etc and I was basically trying not to swallow my tongue.

God, those were the days, of cabbages and (deaf mexi)kings. 

Today I decided I wanted to take some photos of Henry and Chooch, because it’s been awhile. Caution: Henry smiles in some of these. (SOME.)

Forlorn.

It’s not easy for Chooch to make normal faces.

He was mad because I took him away from his dumb friends to, god forbid, spend family time together in the cemetery.

Henry could have buttoned his shirt at least once more so that he’d look less like second cousin Eugene who lost all his money in a cyber-mall pyramid scheme in 1998 and reeks of Wild Turkey and dumpster cabbage. 

Henry’s favorite part of the day.

Life is rough, you guys.

LOL SORRY FOR THE PHOTO DUMP.

I’m not a very patriotic person, so July 4th is just another day to me. Instead of fighting the crowds to ogle fireworks, I’m going to sit on my front porch and watch Brookline pop off. But first! Here’s a collection of bulleted nonsense that my brain has been collecting over the last week.

• Every 4th of July, when I’m flipping thru the channels and inevitably run across “Independence Day”, my crush on Bill Pullman is temporarily revived. I went to see “Casper” twice in the theater because of him for Christ’s sake. While my friend Keri and every other young girl back then was going heart-eyed over Devon Sawa, I was like TAKE ME, BILL PULLMAN. Good lord.
  • I just asked Henry if he thinks anything like that could ever happen one day and he lazily shrugged and murmured, “Who knows. Anything is possible.” YOU HEARD IT HEAR FIRST, FOLKS. WHO KNOWS ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.
  • But for real guys: Bill Pullman, John Cusack, Paul Coffey. Those were my older man crushes of the nineties. (Oh, and also this guy from vacation.)
• I keep trying to watch the first episode of this season’s Hannibal and I CANNOT GET INTO IT. Is this why it was canceled? Does it keep getting worse? I used to love this show!
• You know what show I am  totally into, though? CNN’s “The Seventies.” Absolutely riveting! I have always felt like I was born too late in life. I would have rocked the seventies! The first episode was all about television from the decade, and there was a brief mention of Battle of the Network Stars which made Henry mumble, “Oh no….” because I went through a HEAVY OBSESSION with those specials about 12 years ago when some channel was running a marathon. I even pulled out a blank VHS tape and RECORDED some! I became infatuated with Robert Conrad and saying “What’s all the hullabaloo?” and “It’s the limit!” and had all of these t-shirts that I wanted to make but Henry was like, “This is dumb and I don’t want to help you.”
  • But then a few years later, he helped me make my Asshole Parade shirt, which had his face on it*, so that makes a lot of sense.
    • *Fun fact: my mom actually commented on that blog post and said, “Your [sic] sick.” LOL.
    • I gotta dig that shirt out of the closet….
      • OH SNAP:

• I was lamenting to Henry about how I still only have two wheelchairs in my collection, like that was going to make him run out and rob a haunted asylum. Oh well. Here’s my wheelchair nook (my other wheelchair is in the garage for the time being):

• Last week, we were watching a Glastonbury 2014 broadcast on Palladium; Johnny Marr was one of the performers, which made me ask Henry, “What was that one band I liked pre-Chooch and Johnny Matt produced their one album?” What a shocker, Henry didn’t know. But don’t worry because I worked it out on my own and then I kept playing songs for him on Spotify until he eventually said “YEAH OK I REMEMBER” but I think he just wanted to make me stop thrusting my phone into his ear.
  • The band was Haven, in case you were wondering, and they were pretty good! I think I liked them for at least 6 straight months.

• Today, Chooch conned us into seeing Jurassic World and I realized that we haven’t all seen a movie in the theater together since Thor. THOR! Chooch and I have gone together a few times, I’ve gone with friends or by myself, Chooch has gone with Janna, but today as only the second time in Chooch’s nine years of life that we’ve gone as a family. We are SO UNAMERICAN.
  • I cried through 4 of the 6 previews and then basically the entire movie because my emotions slip right through my grasp like dicks through Astroglided fists.
    • Jurassic World was really good, though! Even though it made me ruin yet another pair of contacts. (Tears + contacts = thumbs down.) I only wanted to see it because of Chris Pratt, though. Obviously.
      • Chris Pratt fan since the “Everwood” days, thanks very much.

• ^^^^In case you were wondering, Henry still sucks at texting.
  • I’m going to name one of my new plants Ljubljan.
    • (Yes, I have new plants!!!!! NINE OF THEM!!!!)
• On our way home from the movie, we were a few blocks away from our house when we drove past what appeared to be the aftermath of some teenager hitting an old lady with his bicycle. My plan was to run back up there after dumb Henry parked the car in our driveway, but then I got distracted by the asshole who was driving ridiculously slow in front of us and when I’m consumed by fury, everything else pretty much goes out the window.
• The other day at work, Gayle was bitching about her hatred for video games. “Do you know the only game that was available when I was a teen?” she asked. “TIDDLYWINKS!” I screamed, but she was already answering her own question. (It was Pong, but I was still too busy cracking up at my answer to hear where she was going with this.)
• YOU GUYS AMBER THE SECOND IS BACK! She returned from maternity leave on Wednesday and I almost cried when I saw her face! Then I made her leave her desk because I had a container of lemon ricotta welcome back cookies for her (I made Henry bake them the night before even though he wanted to go to bed early), and I wanted them to be a surprise.
  • She seemed to go through a gamut of emotions when she returned to her desk. Excitement at seeing cookies, hesitation when she realized they were from me, relief when I told her Henry made them.
  • Then she made Glenn blow up the yoga ball she brought in to use in lieu of a chair and it was the highlight of my whole week! 

•  After overhearing Back-To-Work Amber talk about having a quarter life crisis, I said to Glenn, “Pfft, quarter life. I’m having a WHOLE life crisis.” Glenn made a cabbage-face and mumbled, “Yeah, and it’s spilling over into other people’s lives, too.”
• Speaking of Dumb Glenn, I was eating a Chobani watermelon yogurt on Thursday. Amber¹ stopped by and we were discussing it, because these are the sorts of stimulating conversations we have at The Law Firm, who’s eating what yogurt today, and I told her that it was actually Henry’s yogurt and I took it anyway, and that it was only OK, but the fact that I swiped it from Henry made it taste a little better, I guess. And then Glenn piped up from his desk that he also had eaten that same flavor of yogurt that day and I cried, “SHUT UP, GLENN, NO YOU DIDN’T” but then he pulled the empty container out of his garbage can and UGH you guys, it was true. Glenn and I ate the same yogurt on Thursday and this made me very mad.
  • The only good thing about Thursday was that Glenn made a mistake numbering something and I got to smugly correct it and then belittle him for being stupid.
• My blogging goal for July is to write about/mention cabbage in every post. Because that won’t get old fast.
  • Cabbage is my spirit animal.

• I might not be a beer aficionado, but I am kind of a cider snob. This stuff was OK and I would drink it again, but it didn’t make me want to break out the Thesaurus and write a 10,000 review like MY YELP ENEMY WOULD.

• #spoonselfie
• Man, I gotta make those Robert Conrad shirts for real now.

OK, it’s almost time to spectate the drunks who shamble past my house every weekend. Way better than fireworks!

UPDATE: power’s out in Brookline! Henry thinks someone blew up a transformer whatever that means. So now all the neighbors are outside bitching in the pitch black while fireworks explode all around us and it sounds like a goddamn warzone. Chooch just said, “thank God I finished in the bathroom before the power went out!” Yes, thank god. 

Another EDIT: going on an hour of no power, still sitting outside. Henry just said to Chooch, “fuck, you’re annoying in the light, and even worse in the dark.”

Then I pointed to the sky and yelled, “Ooh is that one of those lanterns?!” Henry, in that cocky tone he adopts when he’s about to school me, started to say, “No!” But then slowly realized it actually was a lantern and muttered, “Yes.”

Hi I’m back! EDIT: Power’s still out, Chooch just told me the names of fingers (“And this is the pointer…”), and Henry smells like toilet water. THIS IS BROOKLINE LIVING, PEOPLE. 

Henry and I are off work today, so we’re going to some large flea market in Ohio that only happens on Fridays so we never get to go because Jobs. (We’re dragging Chooch with us of course and he is pretty surly about this right now.) I’m hoping to find a wheelchair (so that Henry can make me cry when he points out that it won’t fit in the car) and obviously SUCCULENTS. I haven’t bought any SUCCULENTS in like two weeks because I’ve been funneling all of my attention onto my ailing Ted NUDE-gent, but Henry re-potted him and I think maybe he’ll be OK because he hasn’t seemed to have gotten any worse.

So before any new SUCCULENT-adopting happens, I wanted to introduce the Internet to the rest of the ones I brought to their forever home (lol) a few weeks ago.

Heeeeeeere’s Agnes!

Henry bought the virginlicious planter at some thrift shop while Chooch and I were at the Sleeping With Sirens two weeks ago. When he sent me a picture of it, I was like, “Do you even need to ask me!?” Agnes fits perfectly!

Agnes is very sturdy.

I forget what type of succulent she is.

Suzy Banyon by candlelight. I took this picture the other night because I just wanted to get closer to Agnes so she could protect me when Chooch and I were watching The Exorcist.

This is Yootha Joyce. I like her because she looks like a bunch of stars stacked together.

Sõrg! Isn’t he a babe? He’s a “Fang” succulent, and sorg means fang in Estonian, apparently; I asked my cabbage dealer. I painted an old candle votive thing just for him and then didn’t wait long enough for it to dry because I’m impatient and Henry got really annoyed, which was actually just a continuation of him already being annoyed about something I had done previously to annoy him because when isn’t he annoyed?

Whenever Gayle found out that there was a Swat situation on my street a few weeks ago, she asked me, “Is it your house? Too many plants in the window?” GOOD ONE, GAYLE!

I will leave you now, my fair friends, with a beautiful song that I think my succulents are really responding to. This joint makes me want to do slow Cabbage Patches all around Henry until he can no longer deny my presence.

Alone. is the side project of Michael Franzino from A Lot Like Birds and it is a thing of beauty, just like my plants.