I can’t believe how far I’ve fallen behind with the RIP Glenns. Internet, you must have been stumbling around blindly! HOW HAVE YOU KNOWN WHO DIED?! Anyway, here is a collection of dead celebs from April through September. I’m sure I missed a ton, but sometimes they fly under the radar, OK? I do have other things to do here at work! (Hard to imagine, I know.)

Glenn makes an effortless Rosie the Riveter, doesn’t he?
  

I thought it was pretty bizarre that BB King and Ben E. King died so close together. Unless they planned it that way?!

Mrs. Voorhees! CH-CH-CH HA-HA-HEARTBREAKING. :(

Here’s a rare, behind the scenes look at a sheet of Glenns pre-Glenning, with my dumb fingers in place for scale.

The quintessential Dracula. RIP, OLD FRIEND. (Fun Fact: This is actually what Glenn looks like every day IRL.)

Man, Mary Ellen Trainor had some golden roles in the 80s, but I chose to depict her in all of her broken arm glory as the mom on Goonies. #momgoals

I was a big fan of WWF (I guess it’s WWE now, though?) when I was a kid in the 80s. The Undertaker was my favorite, obviously, and I have super fond memories of splaying out on the floor of the family room, wrestling on in the background and my Lisa Frank stationary fanned out before me. Because that’s when I was also super heavy into penpalling, you guys. I got my first handful of penpals from the back of the Alby’s Big Boy kids menu (there was a section for pen pals, can you believe it!? The 80s were such a darling time—no way would any parent let their child’s name and address be printed and mass-produced on a restaurant menu) and it just spiraled from there.

I’m getting off topic. I started to write all of that in an effort to say that even though I was big into wrestling back then, I don’t really have many memories of Dusty Rhodes. Luckily, Facebook and my co-worker Carrie alerted me to his death. But after staring at his picture long enough, I feel like I really knew the guy. :(

I honestly thought he was already dead. No offense, Sharif estate. Also, I spelled his name wrong because I’m a terrible, ignorant human.

Now THIS is a wrestler I remember! His death was weird because he apparently had just given a statement a few days prior regarding the whole Hulk Hogan fuckarow, and then BAM. Sudden death. :(

This whole Bobbi Kristina situation was plumb fucked, you guys. I was happy to draw Whitney Houston as an angel, though.

THE WORST. I wanted the MTV Scream series to give him more of a tribute than just the measly 10 second In Memory Of they flashed on the screen before the season finale of Scream, but whatever. It’s not like he’s a horror LEGEND or anything.

You know Glenn has a hidden library stocked with Jackie Collins’ entire smutty oeuvre.

I honest to god just can’t with this one. The goddamn Log Lady, you guys. And right when this whole Twin Peaks continuation is about to (hopefully) happen, and she was on board with it. I’m devastated over this and will probably be dressing up as the Log Lady for Halloween, provided that Henry dresses as my log.

I have a Frank Gifford Glenn sitting on my desk, but I don’t like it and want to make a new one. Other than that, now you know most of the important people who have died since April. Basically, if I don’t know who the person is, I don’t make a Glenn. I CAN’T KEEP UP WITH ALL OF THEM!

[As always, if you’re new here, you can read the origin of this project here.]

Here is a handy compartmentalized list of things and thoughts that have happened lately that perhaps I would like to remember. YOU NEVER KNOW.

PARENTING – I’m doing a mediocre job!

• Henry had to go back down to work to have an affair one night last week, leaving me in charge of feeding Chooch. Thankfully, there was Hungry Man in the freezer and that’s what Chooch decided he wanted to eat, so I was like, “Phew! Thank god! Here, you can just go ahead and make it yourself, then.” But then Chooch was like, “‘Remove plastic from sauce.’ Wait—-is this the sauce?” And I was like, “Of course that’s the sauce, you idiot—wait. IS that the sauce?” And from there, it took the two of us, The Dream Team, to squint at the instructions, stab some of the sealed compartments with a knife, peel back the seal of other compartments, straight up REMOVE portions of the tray…it was all so much. So exhausting. We are FUCKED if Henry ever leaves us for his mistress oris murdered when I find out that he has a mistress.
  • Henry came home later, saw the empty box in the garbage, and sadly said, “Hey. That was my Hungry Man.” WELL MAYBE IF HE WOULD STOP IMPREGNATING PET SHOP BROADS, HE WOULDN’T BE SO HUNGRY.
• Saturday night, Chooch and I decided to go see this Austrian horror movie that was playing at the indie theater down the street (“Goodnight Mommy” — it was wonderful and here, you can read Chooch’s thorough review if you would like). I had a slight concern because itwas rated R; my concern wasn’t that it would be inappropriate for Chooch to watch, but more that he wouldn’t be allowed in. “I mean, I guess technically I am his guardian though, right?” I said to Henry, trying to work this out in my mind. “Um, you’re his mother, so….”
  • The movie is in German so it had subtitles. This didn’t faze Chooch a bit — he’s been watching Asian horror for years so subtitles are like whatever for him. I feel like that’s a parenting win, right? Don’t be that person who bitches about having to read a movie.
• Some shady business opened up in our ‘hood where people can go and play video games. I know what you’re thinking, Oh an arcade? WRONG. It’s just an empty storefront full of TVs and gaming consoles. Anyway, some of Chooch’s friends go there after school so Chooch asked if he could go too. This stumped me. “I don’t know…..can you?” I mused, hoping the Universe would send me a sign. Meanwhile, Henry was all, “No! Do your homework!” So it appears the correct answer to that Parenting, Expert Level question was: No.
• We went to lunch on Saturday at the North Hills Grill. Chooch was real surly because he had fallen (or “falled” as I had originally typed) asleep in the car and then we had the audacity to wake his sorry ass up. He was so fucking miserable and said he didn’t want anything so Henry and I said that was fine because we don’t play his games anymore (I mean, I usually get suckered into them if I’m alone, because I’m weakand also I thrive on fighting with my kid, or anyone for that matter). But then he snapped, “FINE I GUESS I’LL HAVE A BURGER” and I was like “IDGAF because this joint had quinoa salad as a side plus mypanini comes with pesto and literally that’s all that matters to meright now. Eat or don’t eat, whatever forever.”
  • And I mentioned that we were going to get him new clothes afterward and he did this thing that I just love, where he throws his arms up and squeals, “SERIOUSLY?!FML” before falling into a slow simmer. (I should mention that this was after he decided to join us; he was originally sitting alone at his own table. Thank god we were the only people there.) It must seriously suck to have parents who feed and clothe you! I would hate my life, too!
    • Parents of children younger than 9 — I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t get better. There will be days when you think it is, but then you’re jerk-kid will do something catastrophic or utterly douchey to remind you that, nope; parenting still fucking sucks. Bring on ze booze.

This is when he decided that FINE, he would come over to the dark side and sit at the same table as his crappy parents.

WORK

• One day last week, Last Mail was making her rounds and Gayle, at the last minute, shouted, “Lisa, wait! I have something I need mailed.” Big deal, right? Except that I was bored as fuck and decided to chastise Gayle via email for speaking too rudely to Last Mail. “She startles easily!” I typed, and Gayle was all, “I WILL NEVER DO IT AGAIN, MASTER, I SWEAR TO YOU, MASTER.” We had a good laugh (eh, not really) and then went about our day. The next afternoon, Amber¹ walked by and said that Gayle was in the kitchen talking to Lisa and—-“Oh shit,” I interrupted, pretty sure I knew where this was going. Amber went on to say that Gayle was APOLOGIZING TO LISA for being “rude” and I was like, “But she wasn’t even rude!” Amber said, “Yeah, I didn’t think she was either, so I’m not sure why she was apologizing…” So I explained to Amber that I jokingly sent Gayle that email the day before but I was totally just kidding. “Oh, well she apologized and I was the witness!” Amber said, and I started cracking up. “I MADE THAT HAPPEN!” I cried. “I totally orchestrated that!” OMG I’M LIKE A LAW FIRM PUPPET MASTER. Hands down the most exciting thing to happen to me at work last week.
• Until Terry came over to invite Glenn to some secret after-hours cook out! Todd kept sending me antagonizing emails, knowing that I was about to upchuck my giggle-lunch all over my lap.
  • Unrelated to this particular episode, I mentioned to Glenn that I thought Terry might hate me ever since The Lunch Invitation was delivered. “Yeah, and I should, too!” Glenn snapped, and then Todd and I died of laughter but then the aliens from MAC and Me came down from 1988 and brought us back to life.
• Some people are really stoked for the pie party, and others are practically sprinting away from me as a try to invite them. FINE! I’LL STOP TRYING TO BE FRIENDLY AT WORK! #boohiss
• It was pretty quiet during  my Friday night late shift so I made some egocentric signage with salt water taffy on the counter behind Todd. I figured for sure I would come to work on Monday to find that Glenn had defaced it, but lo—it was just as I left it! Later in the afternoon, I went back there and dismantled it myself because that way, I wouldn’t have to expend energy hating someone for doing it first. Glenn and Todd were just like, “Wow, such logic.” It’s true though, you know how badly I pout when the tables are turned.

MUSIC

• GUYS. Remember all of those Riot Fest posts I wrote that you probably didn’t read because I’m so fucking annoying? Well, in one of them, I went on at length about how seeing Alexisonfire for the first time ever was the best moment of all three Riotous days for me and subsequently sparked yet another unhealthy music obsession as I realized that something about their set had resonated with me, and even though I was a casual fan back in the day, now I was IN LOVE WITH THEM and about to call the tattoo shop to make an appointment to have their logo tattooed on my head. I got it bad for them, like, weak-in-the-knees, Glasgow-smiling-at-my-desk-for-no-reason bad. Anyway, a week later, at the Toronto Riot Fest, they announced during their set (they were the headliners—they’re Canadian and way bigger there than America) that ALEXISONFIRE IS BACK AND THEY’RE NOT GOING TO LEAVE US AGAIN. I cried so hard. SO HARD! OH, THE JOY! I tried to excitedly talk about it at work and everyone was like, “Why can’t you just watch soap operas instead like other ladies your age?” And then the other day, I was reading my usual music news sites on the trolley and one of the headlines was ALEXISONFIRE CONFIRMS THAT THEY ARE NOT OFFICIALLY BACK TOGETHER. My heart sank! I came into work near-tears (OK, some of the tears were a lot closer than “near”) and Glenn snapped, “You need to stop being so emotionally invested in bands! They don’t give a shit about you!” Wow, harsh. A few minutes went by and I swiveled around in my chair and said, “But seriously, why would they say they were back together if they didn’t mean that they were back together?” Glenn made a noise that sounded like a laugh, but it may have just been his patience whimpering away.
  •  I helped A-ron with a project and his email response to me was Erinisonfire and it was like, the greatest thanks I’ve ever received in my whole life. (I mean….maybe not.)
• You know that hedge fund doucher who jacked up the price of that AIDS drug and then the Internet found out and everyone hates him now? (I excel at layman’s terms.) It was also discovered that he was an investor (like big-time backer) in Geoff Rickly’s record label Collect Records. Geoff, you might know, was the singer of Thursday and they were a massively influential and revered band. I miss them so much and have tried to support Geoff’s other projects whenever I can over the year because I feel like he brings so much to the scene and is just an overall stand-up guy. (Plus, remember when he spit in my face and it was amazing?!) But then this happened and I was like fuuccckkkkkk Geoff how can I keep supporting you now?! Luckily he did the right thing and announced the next day that Collect Records had severed ties with Martin because OBVIOUSLY. The downside to this is that now Geoff’s label is in danger of capsizing and taking down a bunch of really incredible bands with it. If you are reading this and love small businesses who were born of the desire to help nurture and promote the dreams of artists, might you consider going to the label and purchasing a thing? I personally bought the new release from Geoff’s current band No Devotion which you will LOVE if you’re a fan of the Cure, Thursday (duh!), 80s synth, or just good music in general. It is seriously the shit but….Geoff can do no wrong in my eyes.
  • Also? He notoriously has super bad luck. A few days after this happened, he was POISONED and robbed in Hamburg. I mean he’s still alive. But POISONED.

PLANTLIFE

• Guys don’t worry. I’m still obsessively stroking my succulents like some shaky-cam herbiporn. Below, please meet the babe Bambi Sickafoose. I used to see her name in the credits for Twin Peaks and became instantly obsessed. I would shout BAMBISICKAFOOSE and Henry had no idea why. I recently found her on Facebook and got unrealistically excited.

• I just bought this gal over the weekend! Her name is Alexis and Henry said he hopes she catches on fire. :(

• I actually took this picture for Artifex Pereo because the name of their last album is Time and Place and the cover art is a pattern of leaves, so they were wishing everyone  a happy Time and Place day on the first day of fall and it just so happened that we had autumnal cupcakes at work that day with plastic leaf rings topping them! I did t want to eat a cupcake so I told Glenn to go and get me a ring. According to Todd, Glenn was having a hard time trying to guess which one I’d like because there different colors and designs I guess. He came back and threw one at me and started bitching about there being different designs and I was like, “But I thought there were just leaves?” “yea he, but there were MAPLE and OAK and….” Omg so boring.  Then Carrie and Amber² (in a moment of uncharacteristic kindness) gave me theirstoo yay!
  • So I took this picture with my plant-babes in the background, posted it on Instagram, and Artifex Pereo commented with heart eyes. Love those guys!

MISC.

• Man, how about that Pope, huh? I made Henry watch my favorite religious channel,EWTN, so that we could watch PROPER coverage of the Pope’s arrival. And oh, the entertainment! Those newscasters are um, pretty colorful. I was really stoked because there was ample attention given to CardinalWuerl and I’m obsessed with that guy. IN CASE YOU DIDN’T KNOW, he usedto be the Bishop here in Pittsburgh. Back at that time, my friend Brian/Chooch’s godfather, was in the Seminary so he had gotten to know the Bishop pretty well. For a short time, Brian used to live right next door to me, in the housecurrently inhabited by HotNaybor Chris. There was some special mass thing happening at the church across the street, and so the Bishop and Brian were both there. Afterward, Brian invited the Bishop over for tea or whatever you offer the Bishop, and he told me afterward that he was so afraid I was going to stop over because that’s when I was super slutty and smoked a lot of cigarettes. OH HOW EMBARRASSING.
  • No seriously, it probably would have been pretty embarrassing. I was like oneNickelback CD away from being white trash verified back then.
    • (IT WAS JUST A PHASE. There is a fine line between the hard rock scene and white trash. I learned that the hard way.)
    • Now you know how I bagged Henry. LOL.
• After our recent experience withLyft in Chicago, Henry decided it sounded like it could be a good part-time gig, so he applied and then was immediately hired, because #ProfessionalDriverStatus. Anyway, his mentor is some younger guy who apparently has had four accidents in the last year, so this is already off to a great start. I was watching Henry setting up hisLyft driver profile on the app and was trying desperately to help him, but he was basically just leaving the default responses for everything. There was a music question and I wanted him to put post-hardcore, but he left it on “Whatever suits my mood” or somethingequally as boring. Henry could havehad the opportunity to be the most colorfulLyft driver in the Tri-State area, but he blew it. Have fun being boring like everyone else, idiot.
  • Seriously, can you imagine if you were waiting for your Lyft and Henry rolled up? I hope he smiles a little. Otherwise, he just looks like an angry mountain man. But…at least he knows his way around. But there might be an axe in the trunk.
• The Steelers: LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL.
• Seriously Donut Friend? Joyce Lavender? KILLING ME.

• I posted this on Instagram and BARB yelled at me. GO AWAY BARB! No I’m just kidding! BARB DONT GO!

• • Seriously though, he acts shocked every time.
• HAUNTED HOUSES.

OK. I could go on and on but I’m stopping while I’m ahead.

No Spoilers Ahead: Me mommy and Corey went to see Goodnight Mommy. Corey was late so we couldn’t get a mask. They were handing out masks because it was the mask the twin boys wore to scare their mom. Their mom had plastic surgery and they wanted their mom back because they thought she was acting differently. They looked like our friend Kara’s son Harland but older.

So Kara should be scared. When it was over I said that wasn’t scary that was sad. It wasn’t English it was German. But don’t worry it had subtitles. I almost fell down the stairs but that doesn’t matter. You could sometimes see the moms man boobs sometimes. That’s when I covered my eyes. Mommy had to cover her eyes sometimes, too. But I’m not going to say why because that would be a spoiler. I didn’t understand the movie it was strange and creepy. After mommy and Corey explained what it was about I understood it.

I was sad mommy was scared. We saw it at the Hollywood Theatre in Dormont.

I would recommend this movie to people who aren’t pregnant or have kids. There was no funny parts all creepy.

  The movie is abusive.

I was the only kid there! (;    If I had a kid I wouldn’t bring them to see this movie. Just saying. But you suit you. I’m not your MOM.

Sometime over the summer, I was outside taking a walk during my lunch break when Terri texted me that Armor For Sleep had announced a very small tour to celebrate the 10th anniversary of their best album, What To Do When You Are Dead. I freaked out. Then I saw the dates and my heart sank when I saw Pittsburgh wasn’t on the list.

Philly was, though! And it was a Saturday show! However, it also happened to be the weekend after Riot Fest.

I knew there was no way Henry was going to go for this, but I called him at work anyway and his response was LOL.

So then I went back to work in a complete huff and whined to Glenn whose response was LOL.

Of course, I could just go by myself, and that’s what I probably would have wound up doing because the thing about Armor For Sleep is that they were an extremely influential band for me in their short existence and they’ve been broke up since 2009.

I was lucky enough to have seen them at least once, in 2008, but unlike a lot of bands, they didn’t do a grandiose “farewell” tour, except for a random reemergence at the 2012 Bamboozle which I tried to get Christina to do to with me since this was during one of our brief, short-lived “makeup” stints, but the one major thing that happened to Christina during the Great Tragic Friendship Blackout was that she basically “grew up” and quit caring about music. Don’t worry, not everything was different—she was still a gigantic lying piece of shit! Thumbs up for consistency!

This was our band! This was the album we would listen to together on so many late night drives to Cincinnati. (I used to make her take the Greyhound to Pittsburgh so I wouldn’t have to drive to Cincinnati alone, hahaha. Somehow, I was fine driving back home by myself though.) In a nutshell, What To Do When You Are Dead is a concept album from 2005 about a boy who kills himself and then quickly realizes all he’s left behind. I love me a concept album when it’s done properly, and this one was fresh, poignant, and timeless. In fact, it was so relatable, that I had to stop listening to it for a certain chunk of time in my life.

The wonderful thing about Henry is that even when it seems like he doesn’t get it, like all those years I cried in his face while listening to this album, he actually really did get it. He knew that this was one those “can’t miss” shows for me, and that is why he changed his mind and said, we will go to Philly but you and Terri can go without me.

(When I told Glenn that I got my way as usual, he was pretty disgusted and said, “Henry needs to stop rewarding bad behavior.” Oh god, did I laugh!)

The show was at the Trocadero, which I was happy about because it’s so beautiful inside. We started the night with drinks up in the balcony and of course I chose a spot right in front of two Chatty Chats who only spoke louder to each other once the opening band, Cold Seas, started playing. Terri and I kept tossing annoyed glares over our shoulders, but they were oblivious. How are people so unaware sometimes?! I had to laugh because they applauded and “Woo!”d after some of the songs, and then at one point, one of them shouted to the other, “I love mellow shit like this.” Terri and I made eye contact and started cracking up. “How are they even listening!?” she cried.

They split after the first band so we were able to enjoy Prawn without incessant Bro Talk being projected at the backs of our heads.

But then I realized that a piece of my bracelet broke off so I was too focused on exploring the floor under my feet and experiencing mild anxiety because I only just bought that bracelet at Riot Fest and I hate when jewelry breaks!

I have an entire drawer full of broken jewelry waiting for Henry to fix them. Terri ended up really enjoying Prawn a lot, and after their set, I found the missing piece underneath the girl’s butt who was sitting in front of me, so now that my bracelet is whole again, I will have to give Prawn my undivided attention at home.

After Prawn, we went downstairs. We had a really great spot up there in the balcony, but I just really needed to be down there on the floor for this. It didn’t feel right any other way. Terri was fine with whatever, because she is the BEST, so we squeezed and tiptoed our way to about three heads back from the stage, and over to the side. There was literally no one on the right side of us and for as packed as the Troc was that night, we somehow managed to make it through the whole show without incident! Except for some mad-looking girl who kept edging her way closer to Terri and one of the security guys who made me hit my head off the archway I was standing in front of when he pushed his past to pull some guy out of the crowd. Other than that, and the 87 times I hit  my head on my own, it was great!

I’m not going to get into great detail here, because short of splashing the computer screen with a bucket of my hot, salty tears and blood, how else can I really describe the “Ow” factor of this show? The came out and, with minimal fanfare, launched right into “Car Underwater” and my heart fucking stopped, restarted, and then exploded like a water balloon filled with Spring of 2005. It was like that, and on and on, over and over, for 90 minutes of pure, sentimental, turn this moment into a commemorative Christmas ornament, bliss. I can’t remember the last time I sang so loud at a show (sorry, tall black guy in front of me) and it felt so cleansing to purge even more of those pesky lingering feelings. Not all of them. I’ll keep some. But the amount I’ve been hoarding all of these years is unhealthy and makes me feel like a broken record.

They didn’t play the album in complete order, and they did sprinkle in some songs from their other two albums, which I was ambivalent about at first, but then I realized that if they only played WTWYAD, that show would’ve ended much earlier and I wanted to spend as much with these guys as possible. Just seeing them together again on that stage was beautiful. I don’t know what this means for them as a band, if they will decide that they missed making music and consider getting back together, so I am so grateful that I got the chance to see them that night. This band, and especially that album, has touched so many lives over the years and it was really nice to see that the reception for this short run they’re doing has been great.

^^^Back in 2005, I had emailed the band to tell them how much I loved them (probably in my most psychotic manner). My email signature was a link to my old my LiveJournal and it said “Have you had your Vagynafondue today?” PJ was the one who replied to my email and we had this ridiculous discussion about “vagina fondue” and seeing him all these years later made me crack up at that memory. I wish I still had that email.

Did I cry a lot? YOU BET YOUR INTERNET-STRAINED EYES I DID. Especially during “Basement Ghost Singing” because that song has some twisted meaning to me. However, it wasn’t a sad cry really. I promised myself when I woke up that morning that I wasn’t going to let the past dictate how tonight would make me feel. I refused to get that awful, sick-to-my-stomach feeling of crippling grief and heartbreak.

I was going to enjoy the music that was prevalent during a very formative time of my life. It was going to be good.

And instead, it turned out to be amazing. Because I was there with my friend Terri, who gets it, who doesn’t judge, and who loves this shit just as much as I do. I’m so glad that I got to share this experience with her! Armor For Sleep 4ever!

Another intensive therapy session in the books.

I came across this idiot photo of myself from a Girl Scout field trip to Triple B Farms in 1987 and that fucking bow on my dome made me laugh because basically I was a style icon to 2000’s-era scene girls everywhere. I always wore those puffy, cushiony bows back then like it was a compulsion. My mom bought them at Children’s Place and Kids R Us. It definitely brought to mind all the scene queens we used to see specifically at Chiodos shows, just a fucking sea of pastel-haired Minnie Mouse-bowed waifs flitted about on wafts of their own ennui, waiting for a chance to bat their fake gooey eyelashes at Craig Owens.   

For old time’s sake, I googled “scene girl at Chiodos show” and then laughed because the second thing that came up was a link to my blog.    God, did I have my finger on the comb-over fringe-haired pulse back then or what.  

Welcome to Oh Honestly Erin, not spell-checked since 2008.   

Then I did an image search and saw that Blake and Robbie, Henry’s sons, are in the first few pictures, so I was like “haha oh shit” and texted a screenshot to Henry, who replied with, “Yeah, keep scrolling down. Thanks, Erin.”    

 HILAR. Henrietta, the ultimate scene queen. 

Of course I ran right to Facebook with this because that’s just what I do: stroke my succulents, fuck grammar in the ass, and emasculate Henry on social media. Robbie commented on it with a succinct “haha” to which Henry replied, “Don’t laugh to [sic] hard. Your picture comes up also.”

Yeah but at least there’s an actual girl in the picture with Robbie.

Henry can try to fight it all he wants but he IS A PART OF THE SCENE. 

As a Friday night bonus, here is a picture of him frowning at his first Chiodos show in 2008.     

GOODNIGHT, GANG. 
  
 
 

Let me preface this with a preemptive apology because I know without even reading it that this post is sloppy as fuck. I wrote it like a lunatic on frosted Ritalin. I JUST GET SO EXCITED ABOUT THESE THINGS! One day I will come back and edit. Months later. I’m such a professional.

Sunday was a great day! We had the best weather of all three days (dry, sunny and warm!), a really great Lyft driver (Venus!) who dropped us off at alternate entrance which had NO LINE. And apparently the main gate hadn’t opened yet because there was practically no one inside. It was eerie and quiet. We had time to kill before any of the bands started, so we finally got some shopping in. I’m still daydreaming about all of the merch booths, to be honest. (Just to be clear, you know that anytime I say “to be honest,” everything else is a bold-faced lie, right?)

Interestingly, we noticed that the schedule for Sunday had been revised because a band had dropped off, so now there was a block of time for one of the smallest stages that just had three question marks in lieu of a band name. “WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!” I asked Henry, who gave me his standard IDGAF glare.

Our experiences at Riot Fest really couldn’t be any more diametrically opposed. It’s like comparing Julie Andrews spinning around in the hills of Saltzburg to Charlie Sheen in Platoon. How we work as a couple is a mystery.

The third and final day of Riot Fest was the one day were I didn’t have a ton of bands that I absolutely needed to see; there were really only three. But there were a few playing on the two smallest stages that I had a passing interest in, so we spent a large portion of the day in that area. This was also the most sparsely populated area, so Henry was extremely thankful. The bands playing on these two stages all day were mostly in the emo/indie category, if I’m forced to pigeon-hole them. It’s a sound that I really love, that No Sleep feel, so I wound up walking away with several new bands pinned to my heart. Loitering at those stages was like being at a mini Fest, which attending has been on my bucket list for years.

(Not Henry though. His review of basically every band we saw all weekend is “*shrug*” so I quit asking him to contribute to these posts.)

• Signals Midwest – Indie/punk band from Cleveland; they had a slight Balance & Composure feel to them, and I was down for it. Solid start to the day and a sneak peek of what the small stages had in store for us that day. I wish that all of the bands had their own merch booths there, like at Warped, because I would have for sure bought their record or a shirt.
  

• Foxtrott – I really am super picky when it comes to female-fronted bands. I don’t know what it is about me and the female voice, but we aren’t friends. However, on the drive from Pittsburgh, I looked up Foxtrott on Spotify and, while there was only one song on there, I actually liked it. When I saw that there was nothing else going on at the same time, I added them to the schedule in my Riot Fest app. (Isn’t technology strange? I barely remember the days where we’d scrawl set times on our hands at festivals. There actual schedules being handed out at the gate every day at Riot Fest, but if you programmed your own schedule into the app, you’d get fifteen-minute reminders to get your ass to a certain stage, and believe me — those were really convenient.)
  

Henry’s style icon during Foxtrott. He also had another style icon who looked like if a young Jeffrey Jones was a gym teacher in the 70s.

• Cayetana – Caught a minute of them because Signals Midwest gave them a shout out so I figured, sure, why not. Turns out they’re a girl band. What is my issue with girl bands?! I think it stems back to my strong adversity to 4 Non Blondes. (Sorry, Linda Perry. You just don’t do it for me.) Let Henry use the porta potty and then we split for the Riot stage.
  
• Kevin Devine – If you can believe it, this was actually Henry’s pick. I never really gave Kevin Devine a chance before (although I did briefly like his collab, Bad Books, with Andy Hull), so when Henry asked me who he was, I was just like, “I dunno, dude. A man who sings with a band.” He’s one of those guys whose music blends into the background for me, but we had nothing else pulling us in a different direction at that time, so we made the hike over to the main stage. And it was a great set! Totally one of those situations where I like a band better live. “Good call, Henry,” I said, giving him a hearty pat on the back. He just sneered at me. Like he does.

• Souvenirs – On the drive to Chicago, I was reading the bios of some of the bands I hadn’t heard of, and Souvenirs mentioned in theirs that they’re influenced by Sunny Day and Mineral. This was enough to get me to the Revolt stage at 2pm. My plan was to watch them for 15 minutes and then run to the main stage to see Hum, but they were so goddamn good that I wound up staying for almost the whole set and sacrificing the beginning of Hum. While we were at their stage, I got a Riot Fest alert saying clarifying the mysterious “???” addition to Sunday’s schedule: Taking Back Sunday were going to fill the slot! I thrust my phone into Henry’s face and even he admitted that it was cool. TBS on that small-ass stage? I consulted the schedule and saw that this conflicted with Andrew McMahon and the Wilderness. But TBS on a stage that small? Sorry, Andrew; can’t pass that one up.

• Hum – As a fan of shoegaze, once upon a time, I needed to see Hum. They were playing the main stage and while they sounded great, it was hard to engage in them because we weren’t very close. It definitely brought back some memories, but I definitely would have preferred to see them in a club venue. I feel like something got lost in translation out there midday, on such a large stage.
• New Politics – We watched two of their songs, but they were pretty bland, radio rock-sounding, and low-energy. Ditched them and went back to the two smaller stages, and thank god for  that because the band playing on the Revolt stage was much better.

• Modern Chemistry – Skipping out on New Politics proved very fortuitous because Modern Chemistry was way more my style. Also, it turned out that I was standing near them during Souvenirs set earlier, when I kept saying to Henry, “God, why can’t you dress like THOSE guys?!” Cling is currently my favorite song of theirs and I’m really anxious to see them again, hopefully soon.

• Taking Back Sunday – Thank god we had already been loitering around this stage, because once word spread about the surprise set, people fucking poured into that tiny area, which guaranteed hadn’t seen that much of a headcount all weekend. There really isn’t a way to describe seeing TBS on such a small stage with no frills, other than FUCKING AWESOME. Total Warped Tour vibes and honestly, I thought it was better than their headlining set. I don’t know many people in my demographic who don’t find certain nostalgia in this band. And there was something special about seeing them that day, all humble and #soblessed to be playing a second set in the middle of the day; it just intensified the feels and hearing those old songs (admittedly, I stopped following them after Louder Now) was such a goddamn throwback. I don’t need all the fancy lights — I just want to see Adam up close, swinging that fucking mic. “We are Riot Festing SO HARD this weekend,” he said at one point, and it was just really nice to see a band of that size and stature so into it and genuinely excited to be there. The crowd was great too and Henry actually said these 30 minutes (yes, they stayed within the 30 minute set time that was vacated!) was the highlight for him of the entire weekend.
  
  • Later on that afternoon, Henry nearly knocked me over when he excitedly pushed my shoulder and said, “LOOK LOOK LOOK!!! It’s Adam!” as Adam Lazzara casually strolled past us as we walking from the Riot Stage. It’s so amusing (and adorable) to me that he (unwittingly) knows so much about the scene that he can recognize people.

• Manchester Orchestra – Man, I kept telling Henry all weekend, “Just wait until you see Manchester. They are so goddamn good. You’re going to love them!” I have only seen them once before and it was one of those shows I attended with a pile of fake Mexican shit (akaex-BFF) so I generally try to block it from my mind. This particular show was in Cleveland, and Manchester was opening for Brand New. I was already a casual fan of theirs, but I remember being 100% blown away by their stage presence. Unfortunately, Christina and I started fighting pretty much right after their set ended, so the memory of this show is completely tarnished for me. It was such a terrible night that I didn’t even blog about it. Ugh. Needless to say, I was really looking forward to a do-over and because of this,Iwantedto be up front. They were playing on the main stage, but itwasstillearly-ish so it wasn’t impossible. I was at the barricade, off to the side (seriously, I can’t stress this enough—never underestimate the power of side-stage) and the girls I was standing next to were so fucking nice, itwasalmostconcerning. The one was obsessing over my finger tattoos and the other was admiring my jewelry and at one point I thought I might get mugged? But no, they were just really nice and added to the beauty of the Manchester Orchestra experience.
  • I haven’t seen pictures of them in awhile, so when the band came out, I was waiting and waiting for Andy Hull until some other guy who sounded exactly like Andy Hull began singing, and that’s when I realized that holy shit, Andy Hull lost a TON of weight.
  • They were just as excellent as I remembered.
    • Um, apparently not according to Henry, though. He had a major adverse reaction to them, to the point that he said it was literally the lowest point of the weekend for him and that he was almost falling asleep and that he hates them. We actually had a mild fight about it last week because I was pressing him for more details. I don’t CARE that he hates them, but I wanted to know WHAT exactly he hated. Andy’s voice? The songs?Theactual music? The fact that Andy made a mockery of Henry’s beloved industry by wearing a trucker hat when he clearly is not a trucker? But Henry was all, “I don’t know! Stop asking me! Don’t make me hate you, too!”Oooh, OK tough guy.
      • It didn’t help that when we were in Philly, Terri had the same questions because she too enjoys herself a little Manchester every now and then.

Cookie Time during Manchester.

• Superheaven – total 90s grunge vibe with these guys and I loved it. Again, those two small stages were killing it on Day Three. I didn’t get a chance to check out the line-up over there on the other days and I have much regret. There were a few bands that I already know and like who were playing there that I had to miss because Riot Fest just has way too much good shit going on at once, bands like Joyce Manor, Sleep On It*, Foxing, Knuckle Puck, and Have Mercy. That might be the biggest first world problem I’ve ever had.
  
  • FUN FACT: On Day Two, a group of guys walked past us early in the day, before any bands were playing, and one of the guys stood out to me. He was wearing a Fuck Seaway shirt and I suddenly had the urge to enthusiastically cry, “THAT’S SICK!” It dawned on me that it was the singer from Bonfires, who recently opened for The Spill Canvas. I excitedly texted my brother Corey about it and then I found out later that Sleep On It brought him out for a song, but of course I missed it.

• Beach Slang – I almost didn’t stick around for them. I’ve listened to them in passing and it was one of those “I don’t care either way” feelings. I definitely didn’t hate it, but it didn’t leave a lasting impression on me. However, seeing them live flipped a switch inside my ears. They’ve got it all: musical ability, good songs, entertaining stage presence, a frontman who could be the next Charles Manson—he’s that effervescent and charismatic. I fell for them hard. HARD. After 30 seconds, Henry leaned in and said, “I’m gonna, um, move back a little and sit down,kbye” and I just murmured, “Yep” and then moved up closer. When James broke a string on his guitar, he tried to get their guitarist Ruben to do the Jonathan Davis beat box from “Freak on a Leash,” but Ruben was like, “No, I will not do that in front of these people” so then some guy in the crowd said that he could do it, and James let him come up to entertain us. It was pretty funny and props to that guy.
  • Also? James has the best, most adorable laugh of all time and I will definitely be seeing them again. THAT IS A THREAT, BEACH SLANG. I am going to come to your show and love you and then not talk to you, so there!
    • Not at all the music, but his voice reminds me a little of Richard Butler (Psychedelic Furs) and Blair Shehan (Knapsack/The Jealous Sound <3).
    • Take all of my money.

• Airborne Toxic Event – Caught the end of their set on the main stage while waiting for Snoop. It was OK. I never really got into them much.
  
• SNOOP -Guys.SnoopDogg.Themotherfucking D-O-G.Doggystyle ruledmyfuckingLYFE in high school. My notebooksandfolderswere covered in Lodi Dodi lyrics and sketches of Snoop. My parents fucking hated this era. HATED. I was such a yo-girl, it was scary at times. And when Riot Fest announced that Snoop wouldbeperformingDoggystyle IN ITS ENTIRETY? Oh snap. We started out closer to the stage, probably around the area we were standing for Faith No More, but I got ridiculously paranoid. This was a much different crowd. Lots of former frat boys, drunk off their asses, high as fuck, looking to relive their youth. We still had about 20 minutesbeforeSnoopwas scheduled to come out and I was alreadyfeelingagitatedand also slightly concerned for my well-being. “Back, move back,” I shouted over the boisterous crowd to Henry. We ended up moving two more times before I finally felt safe and comfortable, and we were REALLY FAR back by then. But I didn’t give a fuck. I could enjoy it just fine back where we were. I really just wanted to know that I was in the same general vicinity of this rapper who was such a huge, defining part of my life. I know that sounds dramatic, maybe, and I wish I could force all of my old high school friends to weigh in on this (probablywithexhaustedsighs and annoyed eye rolls). Anyway, Airborne wrapped up their set on the neighboring Riot Stage and the Rock Stage lit up with green lights. And then…nothing. 7:45 came and went, still no Snoop. 8:00 came and the lights shut off. People started booing.Trashwas thrown on the stage. We waited and waited, for an announcement, something, anything. People started chanting his name. “I don’t think he’s coming,” I said wistfully to Henry. But we stuck around,justin case. And finally, around 8:15, the lights came back on and some DJ came on stage making some grand, flourishing introduction for Snoop, but then Lady of Rage came out instead and started performing Afro Puffs and those of us who weren’t drunk (definitely not the man in front of me) were like “The fuck?” This weird intro just went on and on, because clearly they were stalling, something was definitely happening behind the scenes. I started to get worried that we were going togetsomesecond rate,last minute MC in Snoop’s place, but then he finally came out, flanked by two gyrating dancers and someone dressed as a dog. It was NUTS. However! He didnotplayDoggystyle in its entirety, which was really disappointing. Especially when Drop It Like It’s Hot happened. I hate that song. But!Hedidperform Lodi Dodi and I am not afraid to admit that I cried and then buried my head in Henry’s shoulder. AndIrememberedall of the words, even though I honestly haven’t listened to that album since probably 1996.
  • He spent more time BS’ing on that stage, making big productions of smoking his weed, and was eventually told that he only had 3 minutes left. At this point, he had only performed for about 25 minutes and was supposed to have an hour set, but Riot Fest gave zero fucks that he got a late start. They weren’t going to let him go past 8:45, because Modest Mouse was ready to go on the Riot Stage. So he gets his 3-minute warning and flips the fuck out. I mean, he’s Snoop Dogg, so even when he was flipping out, he was still talking slower than Janna on a Sizzurp high. “Thesebitchassmotherfuckerstryna tell me that I only got three minutes left!Pssssssh, fuck that shit!” and he went on to allude to the fact that it was Riot Fest’s fault that he was late to begin with, and then told his security team to guard the monitors to make sure no one tried to unplug him. He had just finally startedtomoveonto a new track when BOOM, plug pulled. Riot Fest was not fucking around. Snoop’s stage completely shut off and Modest Mouse started playing on the Riot Stage. Right on time. The crowd collectively was like, “AW SHIT!” Who does that to Snoop!? It was hilarious, but it really did suck too because I was looking forward to seeing him all weekend.
    • Still, those 30 minutes were enough to resurrect a little bit of Yo-Girl Erin. Mostly though, it just made me crave Bone Thugs-n-Harmony, which I listened to the next day on the drive back to Pittsburgh. Henry was thrill-thrill-thrill-thrill-thrilled.

• Modest Mouse – I can’tevenpretendto be a Modest Mouse fan. I genuinely liked them in 2004 because it was hard not to. They were fresh-sounding. “Float On” was the jam. That was back when I was really into that type of music, like Death Cab and honestly pretty muchanythingonBarsuk. Riot Fest provides this magical, flower petal-lined path down my musical timeline and it is undeniably funtorevisitall of these old sounds that dominated so many formative stages of my life. We didn’t stick around for much of Modest Mouse, but just having them on my radar again inspired me to dig back into my archives for other old bands I used to listen to love around that same time, like The Prom, French Kicks, Now It’s Overhead, Kind of Like Spitting,TheNotwist, Ugly Casanova.AndobviouslyXiuXiu, but I never stopped listening to them.
  • Vintage feels, man. Vintage feels.

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

I’m beyond depressed that it’s over. But I took so much away from the weekend. Imagine spending one day trudging along from stage to stage at a music festival when music isn’t really your jam. Now tack on two more days and think about how bad that must have sucked for Henry. I don’t know many people my own age who would think something like this is fun, let alone a 50-year-old. I gotta give props to Henry for doing this for me and for barely complaining. I’m going to admit to something GROSS, but we even held hands a lot. Probably because I was in such a state of euphoria that I had no idea what I was doing. But man, I love Henry. I couldn’t spend three intense days like that with anyone else. Thank you for making this whole weekend possible, for making sure I ate enough to survive, and for preventing me from getting lost in some random Chicago ‘hood. Adult supervision is a good thing in some cases. This was one. Henry, you da man.

Shows in general are so therapeutic and cathartic for me, so festivals like this are the equivalent of a lobotomy, I guess. I never realize how much stress I’m carrying and how many bad feels I’m internalizing until I leave a show and realize that I’m holding my head higher and gritting my teeth less. Music chases the bad noise out of my head. I know a lot of people reading this can relate, and if you can’t, just think about the thing in your life that gives you the most pleasure: watching movies, eating fancy food, 10-inch weeners on midgets.

It’s like that.

**********

Last night, I had a dream that my brother Corey was picking me up for work, but he couldn’t find my house. I was getting really pissed because how could he not know where I lived? He asked me to text him directions, so I sent him a map.

It was the map of Riot Fest. The fucking illustrated map of Riot Fest with all of the stages and the Ferris wheel and the bright green Douglas Park grass. Because in my dreams, that is where I live.

As much as it sucked to part ways with Terri and Christian after breakfast at Panera (where Henry’s confident stride was in full effect thanks to Panera Worker Nikki, who was brusque and disgruntled to Chooch & me but apparently very sweet and accommodating to Henry), I was anxious to get on the road because it meant it was almost DUTCH HAVEN TIME.

It’s impossible to be anywhere in the eastern part of Pennsylvania without stopping for my favorite Dutch delicacy: motherfucking shoofly pie.

What? That’s what they call it. At night, after the bonnets come off. Motherfucking shoo-fly pie.

OK, you’re right, Google Translate. It’s probably moederfucking shoo-fly pie.

Actually, I wasn’t even going to ask if we could stop, because I had a feeling Henry was going to grunt something in a fatherly-fashion about how “it’s either shoo-fly pie or the shoe house; pick one!” and if I had to choose….it was going to be the shoe house, you guys. I know! What kind of fair-weathered shoo-fly pie eater am I? (Actually, I’ve eaten the shoo-fly in various types of weather.) So I kept my mouth shut and was rewarded when Henry suggested, all on his own, that we stop!

Some man working behind the pie counter asked us if we wanted a sample and we were like, “Pshhh, fuck that molasses-y noise, we want a SLICE.”

“Oh, you’ve been here before,” he said, but did not seem very excited about it. That’s OK. I wasn’t looking for enthusiasm to put in my mouth. Just some shoo-fly pie. Put it in there.

BAE.

(Do you guys remember the great shoo-fly pie tragedy of last fall? I’m #soblessed to have had the opportunity to eat the fuck out of it twice since then.)

Chooch has become obsessed with pumpkin pie somehow, behind my back, so that’s what he had. We were all very quiet and still while enjoying our pie outside of Dutch Haven.

Applauding the autumnal offerings.

Before we left, we stopped at the neighboring building, which used to be this creepy BBQ joint and is now a creepy popcorn joint. A young employee was outside on the porch, working hard at a popcorn machine. “Please, help yourself to the samples on the table inside,” he said in a strange robot-trying-to-act-human staccato. I think he was probably recently estranged from Amishdom, so not quite a shitty human being yet.

There were two elderly women in there, and the one was determined to make sure Chooch tried all of her favorite flavors, and then when that was done, she started pressing him for information on his favorite flavor profiles and he kept tossing me furtive glances, like I was even thinking about saving his annoying ass. HOW DOES IT FEEL, SUCKER? ANSWER THE QUESTIONS! The lady’s companion finally pulled her off of us and we were able to enjoy samples at our own leisure and without her staring at us expectantly.

We each chose a small container to buy and the other woman cried, “Well, what did you choose?!” It’s like they’re reporters for the Popcorn Times.

Or, you know, “just friendly,” according to Henry.

The only other notable moment of our drive home was when we stopped to eat the the Summit Diner in Somerset, and Chooch decided to reenact the time last December when Henry asked the waitress for a napkin, not knowing that there was an entire napkin dispenser on the table. So Chooch asked our waitress for our napkin, and then shot us giggling glances as the waitress said, “There’s some right there on the table, hon.” It was incredibly awkward because it looked like he was laughing at the waitress and she totally picked up on that; and since I was the one sitting next to the dispenser,  I had to go through the motions of getting him a napkin that he didn’t even need.

“Thanks for making me play a part in your stupid reenactment,” I mumbled, crumbling the napkin and chucking it at his face.

A few years ago, we were going to Lancaster, PA for a Pierce the Veil show and I thought it would be incredibly fun to stop at this storied house that’s shaped like a shoe in Hallam — a true road tripper’s wet dream. I had seen it on some local roadside attractions show and started obsessing. Like I do. Since it was off-season, I emailed them two months in advance to see if we could stop by for a tour. The reply I got was curt and also kind of rude. I don’t remember what they said exactly, other than it made me rage vocally at my desk. I mean, don’t live in a shoe  if you don’t want people to email you about it!!

Fast forward to several weeks ago. My anger had subsided a bit over the years and I decided to look the house up again since we were going to be in the area in a few weeks. The website announced that not only was this still peak season, but the house had new owners! I asked Henry if we could stop for a tour on our way home from Philly this past weekend, and he said yes, which leads me  to believe that he is either cheating on me or dying.

I excitedly told Glenn  that not only did I get my way about going to Philly, but Henry was also taking me to the shoe house!

“He really needs to stop rewarding behavior,” Glenn sighed. He was really happy when Henry initially said no to Philly because I came back from my break crying.

But you know, THINGS CHANGE. It’s harder for Henry to say no to me in person, anyway.

The Haines Shoe House is really close to Rt. 30, so Henry couldn’t bitch about it being out of the way, like he did about every single place we stopped at on the way home from vacation last month. The man who built it in the 40s put it close to the highway so it cold be seen because it was essentially advertising his shoe company.

The tour is $5 a person, what a steal.

“Nope, I’m good,” Henry said as he handed me $10. Chooch wasn’t too excited about this either, but I was like, “DO NOT MAKE ME TAKE THIS TOUR ALONE, PLEASE, I BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS WORLD.” And he was like, “Yeah, a world full of stupid novelty houses to tour.” He and Henry just don’t get excited about these things.

After I paid the lady in the gift shop, she asked Chooch for his hand so she could stamp it.

I stuck mine out too and she said, “Oh, no. We just do this for the kids.” She laughed a little and then realized my hand was still there. “But I mean, that’s fine, if you want a stamp too.”

“I mean, she basically is a kid, so…” Chooch said with a roll of his mean eyes. Shut up, Chooch.

She stamped my hand but didn’t even bother to re-ink the stamp first so it looks STUPID.

It’s supposed to be a shoe! You can’t even tell! Chooch’s was so much nicer than mine.

So then our tour guide came in and retrieved us. Immediately, she made a passive aggressive comment about not sitting on the furniture, because of course as soon as we entered the house, Chooch’s ass helped itself to an armchair cushion. But you guys, his leggggs. They were so tireddddd. He was so exhausteddddd. His life is so roughhhhh.

We learned some boring ass facts about Mahlon Haines and his shoe company. He was really into pimping out his company and even ran for Congress at one point just so he could essentially advertise his company with promotional compact mirrors. I didn’t know what else to say, every time the guide stopped talking and looked at me expectantly, so I just kept saying, “Wow, he was like, really smart.”

Chooch just looked really bored and annoyed the whole time, but I swear to god it was really cool to walk around and see that even the windowsills were curved. The guide kept encouraging me to take photos, and I’m so used to being told to not take photos so that I have to take clandestine spy-cam shots the whole time that I actually felt too nervous to take more photos than I did.

In the early days of the shoe house, Mahlon held contests for newlyweds to honeymoon in the shoe. In the honeymoon suite, there’s a laminated letter of marital advice he typed up for his guests. “YEAH, TAKE A PICTURE OF THAT!” the guide said when she saw me awkwardly taking out my phone. I felt so on the spot through the whole tour!

He really thought highly of himself.

My favorite thing about the house’s interior was the eccentric color scheme. The upstairs bedroom was mint and lavender, for fuck’s sake. I commented on this and the tour guide said that the new owners are actually in the process of repainting all of the walls neutral colors. “They’re trying to get the house back to the way it originally was, since the people who owned this for the last 15 years had it painted this way,” the guide continued, practically turning her nose up at the glorious hues. Apparently, they’re using old black and white photos as their reference. GOOD LUCK WITH THAT. You own a house shaped like a shoe! Why try to downplay that with a neutral interior of beige and egg white? Go big or go home!

In the maid’s quarters, the guide said, “I bet you’ve never seen one of those before!” pointing at an old sweeper leaning against the wall.

“It’s a vacuum. Mu grandma has one of those in her house,” Chooch said, spitting chunks of ennui onto the floor for the invisible maid to sweep up. He was just not impressed by a single thing in this giant shoe, byt at least he was being quiet about it.

And then the guide instructed us to sit at the kitchen  table so she could take our picture, because that is apparently what all of the other tourists like to do. I got really nervous and stressed out because I hate having my photo taken and what if one of my furry-lovers sexted me while she was holding my phone!?

(Just kidding. I don’t have any furry-lovers. Yet. #Anthrocon2016)

But would you look at my happy face!? And Chooch’s pained expression.

Our guide said something about the arch at the top of the steps, so I took that as my cue to take a picture of it.

The tour was over after a soft 10 minutes. We found Henry in the parking lot, leaning against the car, and looking at boring Henry-things on his phone. Probably pallet DIYs and computer part auctions.  I made him go back into the gift shop with me because I didn’t have my wallet and I wanted a post card and a magnet to add to my growing tourist trap desk-shrine at work.

It’s actually pretty nightmarish, now that I really look at it. I found out later that Henry had checked in to the Haine’s Shoe House on Facebook, like he was actually so stoked to be there. He didn’t even go inside of it! What a shoe house poser fan.

There’s even a shoe-shaped doghouse in the yard. And Chooch wants everyone to know that he was “as calm as [he] was at the stroller place.” I asked him if he learned anything at the shoe house and he said no.

After we left, Henry kept asking me questions about the Haines shoe company and my response to every question was a solid, “I don’t know.” So, I guess I didn’t learn much either. Except that I need to do a better job advertising all of my crappy wares. Maybe Henry could build me a Jeffrey Dahmer-shaped house?

***

Today after work, I asked Chooch if he told any of his friends about the shoe house.

“Nah,” he shrugged. “I told them we went to Panera, though.”

OK, but Panera is not SHAPED LIKE A SHOE.

Saturday morning, Henry, Chooch and I woke up early and drove to Philly to hang out with our friends Terri and Christian, but more importantly, so Terri and I could go to the Armor For Sleep show later that night. I still can’t believe I convinced Henry to do this, right on the heels of Riot Fest. I think he’s just worn down at this point in our relationship.

(I probably would have just gone by myself if it came down to it, but I really like traveling with both of my fam-bots. We’re kind of like a really annoying package, like a box of kazoos.)

The day started off annoyingly with two back-to-back botched coffee orders at Sheetz (I mean, my standards for gas station coffee are low to begin with, but the teenage girl working that morning took the liberty of burying them for me). About an hour later, we stopped at a rest area on the turnpike so I could get better coffee (Starbucks — not much of an improvement) and Henry made this huge production of “finally” getting something for himself to eat, since Chooch and I ordered breakfast sandwiches at Sheetz and he chose not to (NOT OUR FAULT—he is our keeper, we are not his). He stormed off to buy himself some Auntie Anne’s pretzel bites, which is his favorite turnpike treat because his blue-collar taste buds crave the snack of coal miners and junkyard proprietors.

(I wrote my senior thesis on the dietary habits of coal miners and junkyard proprietors, so don’t even try to question me on this one.)

While Henry was in line for his roadside brunch, Chooch and I pretended to be interested in a cabinet full of Pennsylvania Turnpike curios. (It really did make me long for the days of Howard Johnsons, though.) Suddenly, Henry breezed past us, popping a piping hot pretzel bite into his idiot mouth, and tossed us a smug glance over his shoulder.

“LOOK AT THAT CONFIDENT STRIDE!” I screamed to Chooch, who immediately set off to imitate him. We were laughing so hard by the time we reached our car that Henry was threatening to lock us out. Oh god, the fodder that Henry unwittingly provides.

The rest of the drive was relatively uneventful. I just made Henry mad with my schizophrenic fan-girling and Chooch played stupid games on Henry’s phone. Nothing really happened because we were just trying to get to Philly as quickly as possible so that we would have time to spend with our friends before we became burnt out on each others’ company.

****

We got to Christian and Terri’s place around 2:00 and after hanging out and eating their candy for a bit, Christian drove us into the city, where Henry was having quiet fits in the backseat because Philly’s jaywalking epidemic is much worse than Pittsburgh’s and if there’s one thing he hates, it’s a fucking jaywalker.

One of the jaywalkers was missing an arm, so we were nice to that one. BUT STILL. Way to be entitled.

We had a late lunch at Su Xing House, an entirely vegetarian Chinese restaurant. Sometimes, it’s the little things like this that remind me there is a god up there somewhere after all. But then Chooch acted like a spoiled brat because HE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT HE WANTED AND HE DIDN’T  KNOW WHAT ANYTHING WAS PLEASE SEND HELP so I was like, “Yep, and there’s a Satan, too.” Henry and I were giving him suggestions so that turned into STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO and this had all of the potential to turn really ugly, but then he ended up ordering a tofu appetizer and also a bowl of unpeeled, steamed edamame; that kept him busy. Especially when he was trying to cut the tofu and Henry was like HELP HIM and I was like I CAN’T DO IT EITHER HELP. Terri said watching Chooch devise new food-cutting tactics was entertaining but I was too busy bracing myself for disaster to be entertained.

It’s moments like these when I’m reminded that Chooch is definitely still a kid.

For Christ’s sake, this restaurant is delightful. As a vegetarian, I’m not used to walking into a restaurant and struggling to order because there is too much to choose from. So much tofu and seitan, I couldn’t decide! Henry got the General Tso’s seitan (predictable) and Terri got some amazing sesame thing. I’m not sure what Christian got but it looked fantastic too. I ended up getting Under the Sea, which was a faux, crispy fish in a sweet and sour sauce. It was DELICIOUS, but the presentation was extremely creepy because it was in the shape of a whole fish and it looked so realistic. I struggled with that for a second. Not going to post the picture here because it might trigger some sensitive gag reflexes out there.

I also got a taro tapioca and was not sad about that at all. Taro is so goddamn underrated!

Henry should make a taro pie for the pie party…

We honestly spent the whole time talking about music and I took a second to silently thank Jason Pettigrew for bringing us together in 2011. I remember parting ways with them that night after the AP show at the House of Blues in Cleveland and saying to Henry, “I really, really hope that we see them again.” And there we were, almost four years later, sitting together and eating excellent vegetarian food at Su Xing House.

I mean, ahem. It was a cool time. And I’m totally not getting all misty as I write this because that would be so unlike me. Black heart. Thick skin.

****

After we ate, it was finally time for Big Gay Ice Cream. I have been so excited about this ever since I found out Philly was getting a location! Who can resist flamboyant ice cream?! It wasn’t open yet when we were there last December, but I knew we would back soon enough to experience its gay goodness. Terri said that she actually had  been waiting for us to visit again before trying it — she is so sweet!

Christian went back to the car because he was going to try to park closer to Big Gay Ice Cream while the rest of us walked there. It wasn’t a terribly long walk and the weather was seriously perfect that afternoon. I was really happy to be walking because we were in a part of the city that I hadn’t been to yet and I love looking at things, like all of the riff raff and stores that are so much better than what we have in Pittsburgh. Downtown Pittsburgh is not very bustling. And it’s definitely not where people go just to shop. But if you’re looking for a CVS or check cashing place, you’re in luck.

“Yeah, this is the theater district,” Terri explained as we skirted around a pack of ridiculously-dressed rich older persons. One of the women, who looked like a younger Stacey from What Not To Wear, was blabbing about something and she sounded so vapid, it was almost a parody. All I could think was, “God, you sound so idiotic, yet you’re still better than me in so many ways.” The world is super unfair, guys. I just found out.

Henry walked ahead of us the whole time because he knows everything. LOOK AT THAT CONFIDENT STRIDE! Chooch and I kept mocking him, which is what we do best. It’s our specialty. Like, if we had to do a talent show, we’d probably just do that. Terri was laughing after the 6th “confident stride” mention, but then quickly stifled it and said, “I shouldn’t laugh, I’m just encouraging you guys!”

THAT IS WHAT FEEDS US, TERRI. DON’T STOP.

Did you know the Pope is coming to Philly!? I actually didn’t until Friday night when Terri texted me to see where we were staying. I told her that Henry was having a hard time finding anything close to them without spending over $200, presumably because there was a football game scheduled, and she replied, “Good thing the Pope isn’t visiting this weekend!”

I just said “Inorite?” or “haha” or something, because I thought she was just being facetious, equating a home football game to a visit from the Pope.

Nope, the Pope is really visiting Philly.

I wish I had known, because I would have worn my Pope Francis shirt!

(Except mine is green, yo.)

I’d actually really like to see the Pope. I saw Pope John Paul II when I was younger and it was amaze, but Francis is the best damn Pope of all time. I don’t give a fuck what your Gram says.

AND THEN BIG GAY ICE CREAM HAPPENED! Oh, it was overwhelming. The choices! The toppings! The paletas (whatever the fuck that means)! I was originally going to get the Bea Arthur because I felt like that was the obvious choice for a Big Gay Virgin, but at the last second, I freaked out and ordered the Mermaid, which is a sundae with KEY LIME CURD and pie crust crumbs. I had ordering remorse right away, but then I tried it and felt really satisfied with my decision.

The Golden Girls décor made me unbelievably happy. REMEMBER WHEN SOPHIA STOLE THE POPE’S RING!?

CHOKING!

Ultimate bae.

All those fabulous, flamboyant flavor combinations and Henry goes for his good ol’ standby: the twist. Plain, nondescript, and dependable. JUST LIKE HENRY.

I was ragging on him about this again today and Chooch shrugged and said, “He can’t help it. That’s just who he is.”

The Mermaid was like a giant key lime nipple, It was delicious. And honestly, underneath all the disco dance floor ceiling lights and fig & blood orange balsamic syrup, that plain vanilla soft serve was really fucking great. It was dense and rich and the perfect base for all of those gay fixins.

Terri got a Monday Sundae and when I saw that her cone was being lined with Nutella, I was like, “Stahhhhp!” Ugh, why didn’t I order that!? I need to go back there right this second and try everything. And then buy a magnet, since they were out of stock. :(

I love how annoyed Henry and Chooch look in this picture. “Oh wow. What a shocker. Mommy is taking pictures of us eating ice cream. Again. Like the Internet doesn’t already know what we look like when holding ice cream cones in our angry-fists by now.” At least Terri was happy!

Seriously, this picture makes me laugh so hard.

ME N’ MY GIRL.

 
Later on, Terri and I went to the Trocadero for the show, while the guys hung out and I’m sure Chooch drove them nuts. (More on the show in another post!)

 ****

Where we stay really doesn’t matter too much to us since we’re barely there when we road trip like this, but I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised at the Motel 6 we stayed at. I always thought those places were dumps, but this one had been recently renovated and was pretty mod. AND CLEAN. The place we stayed outside of Chicago was reallllly questionable. But, all I cared about was being close to Riot Fest, and that shitty Econo Lodge did the trick.

There was a lot of orange in this joint, but I got over it.

I miss Terri, Christian, and Philly already. I know Pittsburgh and Philly are supposed to be enemies or whatever, but I just love that damn city. Next time, I’d like to visit when there isn’t a show to attend so that we’ll have more time to do stuff and drive Henry and Christian nuts!

Saturday was a beautiful day: blue skies, in the low 60s, and the line to get in wasn’t as clusterfucked as Day One. We only stood for about 10 minutes before the gates opened and had plenty of time to roam before any bands started.

If I had to say one thing about Riot Fest (me? limited to one thing? can you imagine?) it would be this: It feels like your entire person is an excavation site and Riot Fest is digging up parts previously forgotten. Even a week later, I’m still letting music guide me down memory lane and it has been tremendous fun, if not eye-opening to how much much things have really changed. Some of those bands, good Lord, I haven’t listened to them in 10+ years, and the memories and feelings that came over me were overwhelming – most in good ways. These weren’t necessarily old wounds being torn open, but just some decent feels having the dust brushed off. Although it did make it even more evident that 2004 is a time in my life that could use some more healing. Watching some of these bands, like the Dear Hunter for instance, made me ask myself why I ever stopped listening to them in the first place. And I can’t remember. Other than the fact that there is just so much music to listen to and some bands just inevitably fall through the cracks. That felt like the theme for Saturday though; all of these bands that I was so excited to see even though I haven’t listened to any of them in years.

Seriously though, I’m going to try to be brief for real this time. Wish me luck.

• Chon: We recently saw these guys open for Circa Survive a few months ago, so I threw Henry a bone and told him we could skip them. They were the main stage openers though, so I at least got to still hear them while we stocked up on food tickets and bought some deep dish, which we ate like Fat Americans At a Concert while watching….
  
• The Ataris – I have never really given a shit about them, not because I think they suck or anything, just because I never really bothered and no one has ever tried to force them on me, either. I did think it was kind of odd that they were playing so early, but what do I know. They were playing on the Roots stage, which had slight hills on either side of it, so Henry and I stood on one of those while eating our pizza. Because, Fat Americans At a Concert. (Seriously though, if there is one thing I really don’t like, it’s eating at shows. I think it’s weird and kind of disrespectful to stand there shoving food in your face while a band is playing. But we were just trying to get it out of the way because there was a long day of stage-hopping ahead of us. So, we joined the douchebag masses and fed our faces.) “Did he change his hair?” Henry asked. “What? Who?” I replied, which always comes out as a frantic yell while I whip my head from side to side, looking for what, I don’t know. “The singer for the Ataris,” Henry said, pointing at the stage. LIKE I KNOW?! The Ataris could sit next to me on the trolley and I would have no idea it was them. Why is Henry so concerned with band hair?! (Never forget: Sceney Todd.) Then they played their “Boys of Summer” cover and I was like, “Oh yeah. Them.”
• The Dear Hunter – Another band that I used to really love and then inexplicably stopped following. I’ve seen them once before, when they opened for Thrice in 2009, but it was at a really annoying venue and the experience wasn’t optimum. But at Riot Fest, the crowd was fantastic and I could see perfectly because it was the stage with the tiny hills and the crowd wasn’t too large yet. Henry asked, “Who are these guys now?” and that’s basically my favorite question because then I can start rambling useless facts and playing connect-the-dots with other bands (“The singer is Casey Crescenzo and he was also in The Receiving End of Sirens, remember when I loved them, and you know who else was in TREOS? BRIAN SOUTHALL do you even know who BRIAN SOUTHALL is well he basically wrote the entire Isles and Glaciers EP, so go suck a dick, Henry.” And that’s how it goes.) The Dear Hunter was exceptional, but my favorite part, maybe even in my Top 5 moments of the entire weekend, was when the guy next to Henry offered him a joint. Father NARC politely declined and I lost it; Henry was so annoyed, but if I hadn’t laughed with abandon, my cheeks would have holes in them right now from when the force of my pent-up laughter ripped right through like giddy cannonballs.

• Gwar – I mean…I associate Gwar with my ex-boyfriend Psycho Mike and I usually try to avoid them, but this time I was like, “Fuck it, we’ve got some time.” I still don’t like their music, but their performance was mildly entertaining. The only song I knew was “Meat Sandwich” because I’m a poser.
• The Movielife – YES! I was really looking forward to this one, because the Movielife haven’t been together since…2003? Someone help me out here and Google for me; I’m tired. I wasn’t a rabid fan, but I have always liked Vinnie Carauna (he was the main reason I got into Set Your Goals back in 2009) and I Am The Avalanche, so this was a must-see for me. And they fucking brought it! Vinnie looked so happy and the camaraderie within the band seemed great. It was basically one massive singalong while Henry stood there, squinting at his phone, looking at a visual history of the Ataris’ hairstyles.
  

• Dead Milkmen – My friend Bill texted me that morning and said, “Please tell me you’re going to see Dead Milkmen today” and I was like “BILL. YOU KNOW IT.” I’m by no means a huge fan, but this is one of those bands that I used to always hear my BFF Christy’s older brother talking about when we were kids. I’ve always considered this a “big brother” type of band because of that, and it always made me sad that I didn’t have my old big brother who was teaching me about good music. (I mean, I actually do have an older brother, but I didn’t find out about him until I was 19, so…) Then in 8th grade, I had a pen pal from Seattle who used to make me mixtapes and she too loved the Dead Milkmen. I felt like I owed it to my youth to be at the Rock Stage for their set that afternoon, and I’m so glad I was, because they were wonderful, and the crowd was great. I love festivals like this because they give me the opportunity to see bands that I normally wouldn’t see at a club show. My favorite part was when Joe went off on a tangent about hipsters and how he couldn’t believe that Riot Fest was making the Damned and Echo and the Bunnymen play in daylight, all of the hipster bands should be playing those slots because hipsters love the sun and gentrification and riding their bicycles and opening trendy popsicle stands—and it was all true. Every last word of it, and I was laughing so hard because fuck a hipster. I just want to be able to walk into a coffee shop and order a cup of coffee without some asshole with stupid hair, wearing a scarf in summer judging me. I originally planned on leaving their set early to run over and catch the end of Babes In Toyland on the Rebel Stage, but the Dead Milkmen were just too much fun. Even Henry was like, “Yeah” when I said, “Wasn’t that awesome?”

• Desaparecidos – Early-20s Erin pissed her pants when she saw this band on the Riot Fest announcement. Henry was like “Who?” and I snottily yelled, “DON’T YOU REMEMBER THEM?! CONOR OBERST’S SIDE PROJECT FROM WAY BACK IN THE DAY!?” and he was like “Nope, but thanks for essentially giving me the heads up that I’m going to hate them.” I used to love Bright Eyes before it was hipster to love Bright Eyes, before Winona Ryder dated Conor Oberst, before your mom came home from Whole Foods with her hemp satchel stuffed with organic Diva Cups and kale and started telling you about the haunting song she heard at the check-out counter, but JOKE’S ON ME YOU GUYS because just admitting to any of this is basically publicly outing myself as a secret hipster. But seriously, who cares. I is for everyone and Bright Eyes is the shit and at one point in my life, they were everything to me. Actually, the Saddle Creek record label had me eating out of their hands back then. I loved Cursive (still do) and Now It’s Overhead and AZURE RAY! Goddamn, I was a different person back then! And Desaparecidos was one of those bands. I loved them because I hated George W. Bush and their music was smart and political—they were on my side, and not on Henry’s; I used to be smug about that. (I know, it’s hard to imagine.) I never had the chance to see them back in 2002, so I was READY. This was one of those times when Henry mumbled about going to get a beer and then he never came back. But that was OK — I was fine because I was amongst my people. And Jesus Christ, Desa fucking went hard. I forgot how much I loved that beautiful Midwestern emo sound. And seeing Denver Dalley brought back such memories! I struggled all weekend to remember the name of the band he used to be in, and I was determined not to google that shit. “Remember we saw them at Club Cafe? Now It’s Overhead opened for them?” I kept pressing Henry. “Nope,” he’d answer disinterestedly. “His band name had something to do with math. Not Subtraction….” Then, late Sunday night, I shouted from my side of the bed, “Statistics!!! It was Statistics.” Henry was like, “No one cares.” But I digress, seeing this band was amazing. Seeing Conor Oberst was amazing. Being so close was amazing. Life was just amazing that day. All days. LIFE FUCKING RULES. CHOOSE LIFE. FOREVER AND EVER. KUMBAYA AND JAMBALAYA.
• Echo and the Bunnymen – Seriously, fucking Echo and the Bunnymen. I got to hear “Lips Like Sugar” live – another bucket list item. I would have liked to have been closer for them, and also to have stayed for their whole set, but remember when I mentioned in my Day One post that there were three bands that were the Big Draws for me? Well, the third one was about to start during Echo’s set.

Saw this bro’s cat shirt and tried to ask him where he got it but he was so fucking high, his answer was covered in drool and question marks. So his friend was like “I BOUGHT IT FOR HIM. I SAW IT IN A STORE. I BOUGHT THE SHIRT AT A SHIRT. CATS.” Wow, thanks guy. Luckily, I posted it on Instagram and one of my friends said Urban Outfitters sells it, but I guess that was like, so last season because it’s not in stock anymore. SORRY CHOOCH, I TRIED.

• Alexisonfire: Fucking fuck fuck fuck.  This is the band, out of all the bands that weekend, that walked away with my heart. I listened to them heavily from around 2005-2007, but I never got to see them live. A thing that you should know about that time in my life is that I was unemployed for most of it, and then pregnant, then I had the thing (a/k/a Chooch) and then I worked from 4pm-midnight. So I was either poor, pregnant, figuring out how to be a mom, and then working shitty hours; all of this is to illustrate how infrequently I was going to shows back then. It was near impossible, and I had to be very choosy with what shows I did go to because $$$. Not surprising, I was extremely depressed during these days too. Major correlation there. When I was working the job with the horrible hours, Alexisonfire used to come up a lot on my Zen and I just loved them because I had some aggression, one might say. This was around the time I was really starting to get into post-hardcore more exclusively, and would soon discover Chiodos, which just changed my whole world, musically. Alexisonfire was right there in the middle of it, so I was really anxious to see them last weekend, especially because they haven’t toured in ages (Dallas’s main gig is now City & Colour, and Wade fronts Gallows). I got up as close I could, near the barricade on the right side (that’s my sweet spot at shows; never estimate the side of the stage) and Henry was like, “I’m gonna….” and then ran away. Which is fine, because sometimes I prefer to be alone during these times.  I mean, I knew I was experiencing some level of excitement while waiting for them to start, but what I hadn’t anticipated was the grip they were about to have on me. The feelings and emotions that came over me as soon as they started playing was inexplicable…and also maybe a little concerning. I was crying and losing my mind, quickly remembering just how much I used to like them and knowing that this was all out of my control — I was about to walk away from that stage TRIPLE liking them. It was nuts how many of those songs I haven’t heard in about 10 years, but the words came right back to me. I like City & Colour just fine, but Dallas Green was born to sing in Alexisonfire. From the moment he opened his mouth, I could barely breathe, and George was a fury of testosterone on that stage, and by the end of the set, he had bent the mic stand around his neck, folded it in half, jumped on it, and then folded it again. I was inspired to do the same thing, using Henry’s neck though. “So are they like a big deal or something?” one of the security guys asked the girl next to me, watching the crowd lose their shit. “Oh god, yeah,” she laughed. “And it’s because they haven’t toured in a really long time.” He nodded but you could tell he was like, “The fuck.” One of Henry’s friends, I guess. It’s crazy how something just clicked; all those times I listened to them years ago, I liked them so much but not like this. Not on this level. They blew me away and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since, constantly playing them while I get ready for work, in the car, in my head, relearning all of the nuances and split second parts that make my heart flop. After their set that day, I slowly walked back to Henry, who was standing far back not near anyone, looking distressed and angry at what he had just been subjected to. “CHILLS” I shouted to him, and he rolled his eyes. I need to see them again. Immediately.
  • My co-worker Aron likes to keep tabs on me via Instagram and then he’ll walk by and casually namedrop something I’ve posted on there, just to prove that he’s in the know. So on Tuesday, my first day back to work after the glorious weekend, he came over and said, “So Alexisonfire, huh? SO GOOD, RIGHT?” I agreed and then said, “But….just so you know, it’s ‘Alexis On Fire,'” because he pronounced it ‘Alex Is On Fire’ — a common error! “Goddammit, are you serious?!” he asked in defeat, and it was so funny. Poor Aron, he tries.
    • When they played “This Could Be Anywhere In The World,” I sincerely I was going to cry my big ugly face off and I am CRYING RIGHT NOW just thinking about it. (Also, back when I liked them years ago, I always wanted to sing “The city is burning” instead of “the city is haunted” and I was doing the exact same thing last Saturday during this song. Old habits.
      • Honestly, I just want to delete everything else in this post and replace it with every last Alexisonfire video I can find on YouTube. I am smitten. LIKE A MITTEN.
        • ON A FUCKING KITTEN.

Setlist

1. Accidents
2. Boiled Frogs (<3)
3. Old Crows
4. The Northern
5. We Are the Sound
6. .44 Caliber Love Letter
7. Dogs Blood
8. Drunks, Lovers, Sinners, and Saints
9. This Could Be Anywhere In the World
10. Young Cardinals
11. Happiness By the Kilowatt

I had my fingers crossed for “You Burn First” but it’s ok — they made up for it by playing 12 other songs that I wanted to hear. 

Can I go back to last Saturday now or….?

• Drive Like Jehu – Post-hardcore is one of my favorite music genres, a real close tie with 1980s synthpop for first place. And DLJ are veritable grandfathers of that scene at this point, so there was no way I was missing them. The crowd for them at the Rebel stage was pretty dismal, and definitely older. This was another big deal because they broke up in 1995, and only recently reunited last year, but have only played a handful of west coast shows. I had to, had to, had to see them. Also, their drummer is Mark Trombino, who has produced some of the greatest records (like goddamn Jimmy Eat World, for Christ’s sake) and admittedly, I was hoping that there would be booth for his donut company, Donut Friend. I AM OBSESSED WITH DONUT FRIEND! Their donuts are named after emo/punk/hardcore bands! Custard Front Drive! Drive Like Jelly! Fudgegazi! They could taste like dog shit for all I know, I’d still buy them all because music. (I got to see Drive Like Jehu live! What is this life.)

• Billy Idol – A few months ago, “Eyes Without a Face” came on my bedroom radio and I said out loud to the monster under my bed how much I would like to see Billy Idol live one day. I mean, it’s Billy Idol. And then because I said it, my under-the-bed monster made it so. (With a little help from some warm virgin blood and Faygo Moon Mist.)  Billy headlined the Rock Stage and when the monitors weren’t completely cutting out, he sounded fantastic. But there were some major, disappointing sound issues happening. Still, the crowd was great and it was basically the only performance that Henry and I were both looking forward to all weekend, so it was a nice, bonding moment and I think we held hands for a minute or two. And then, “Eyes Without A Face”! Gah, the childhood memories. This song, and “Drive” by The Cars are two 80s ballads that make my arm-hairs rise and my idiot heart fold in half. (OK, fine: “Is This Love?” by Whitesnake, too.)

• Taking Back Sunday: After Billy Idol was over, Taking Back Sunday was ready to headline the Roots stage. They were one of the second night headliners last year too, and I had deja vu as my teeth chattered and my feet froze into blocks of boot-shaped ice. We didn’t even attempt to get close to the stage for them, opting instead to stand back where the crowd was less dense. I promised Henry we could leave after a few songs, because he’s 50, you guys. He needs rest. I really wanted to hear “MakeDamnSure” before we left, but alas. Normally, I would pout about something like this, but the whole entire day was….I almost said made of win. Who even says that anymore.

Meanwhile, people were near death behind us at the Riot stage, where System of a Down was headlining. I watched some videos and read a lot of online accounts and “horrifying” is the only word that comes to mind. A lot of it had to do with the muddy conditions, but it sounds like the incident was in large part due to obnoxious, drunk, overzealous and disrespectful fans. I love festivals, you know I love Warped Tour to death, but this is shit you almost never see in a club show. (Or, for that matter, Warped Tour. You know why? Most of the people there are underage!) I feel like festivals bring out thousands of people who just don’t really go to real shows, and they don’t know how to act. People were falling into mud because the crowd wouldn’t stop pushing, even before SOAD came out, causing a domino effect until there were dog piles of people in the mud, unable to get up and some unable to breathe. By the time SOAD started playing, they apparently had to stop their set at least three times to allow paramedics to literally SAVE PEOPLE FROM DYING. This is why I won’t put myself that close to the stage like that in festival settings. Pack mentality scares the FUCK out of me. I love music, I love shows, I love supporting my bands, but I also love being alive. Some of the things I read on Reddit were horrifying, the way some people were treated, literally being pushed over and stood on, having their faces shoved into the mud, breathing in that dirty water and absolutely thinking they were going to die.

Nope. That’s not for me. Not at 36, not even at 21. I think the most scared I ever was at a festival was at the Rolling Rock Town Fair in 2001. You want to talk about a football field full of wasted, aggressive nu-metal-loving frat boys? Good lord, I thought that whole field was going to burn. Every time I see footage of the Reading, Leeds, or Glastonbury festivals, my chest feels so tight. I just don’t think I could ever do a festival that size.

Nope. Riot Fest is probably as large as I’ll go. And that’ll be over there, standing off to the side, thanks.

System of a Down aside, the whole day was one majestic moment after the next, ending with the best Lyft driver of the entire week, Bobby, who was hilarious and candid, hates No Doubt, and gave us an off-the-cuff tour of the Chicago outskirts the whole back to our hotel. Bobby was the fucking shirt, and as I rolled out of his car, I drunkenly told him he was the best Lyft driver of my life, and I wasn’t even DRUNK.

I have been on the verge of combustion all week because all I want to do is talk about the weekend but I’m trying not to be annoying (Henry is reading this, feeling puzzled right now. “Trying not to be annoying?”) Riot Fest, these things that you do to me. I can’t even.

So, this tour was announced yesterday and it’s a dream and a nightmare all at once. Slaves is Jonny Craig’s current band and I have been boycotting them for over a year now because GIRL POWER, etc. But….Dance Gavin Dance, A Lot Like Birds, AND Strawberry Girls all on one tour? (Strawberry Girl’s is Zach Garron’s band, and he also used to be in DGD).

When I first saw this yesterday at work, I almost fell out of my chair. Then I shoved my phone in Todd’s face and said, “TODD. LOOK. OMG UGH.” And Todd was like, “Oh shit! What ever will you do?” because poor Todd knows all about the Jonny Craig Conflict since he has to sit near me now. So I texted Henry who was just like “LOL” because not only is it Jonny Craig, but it’s also a show that will require us driving to Cleveland on a work night.

But then Chooch said he wants to go, too. “We just won’t pay attention to Slaves,” he said with a shrug. Like, duh. Just ignore them! We’ll stick our fingers in our ears and yell “lalala”!

Anyway, Kurt Travis posted on Facebook that in addition to singing with ALLB,  he’ll be coming out and doing some of his old songs with DGD, which makes me believe that Jonny will be doing the same, since this is a 10th anniversary tour, and you guys know that DGD is in my Top 5 favorite bands of all time.

I’m so conflicted!

I actually sat here and cried about it this morning because will I be a hypocrite if I go? I don’t want Jonny to get a single cent of my money, but I also really don’t miss seeing DGD (they were just here in August on the All Stars tour and I skipped it because I didn’t care for any of the other bands, it was right after we came home from vacation, and I didn’t want to spend $30 to see one band play for 45 minutes. I figured I’d just wait for their next headlining tour…Sigh.

So I called Henry and before I said anything, I blurted out, “OK I know you’re going to say no, but…” and then I told him about the Kurt Travis thing and what if he sings Happiness with them?! I have never heard that song live! And Henry said, “Well, I guess I can’t say no, then can I?”

OH MY GOD.

I might have a heart attack.

I really don’t want to deal with Jonny Craig, but this is an opportunity that I really feel like I can’t pass up because it’s DGD and ALLB, and there’s always the strong possibility that Jonny will do something fucked up between now and then to get himself kicked off the tour. (Also, it’s fucked that Slaves gets top billing over ALLB, but whatever.)

OK, that’s all. Thank you for walking down Freak Out Alley with me.

[disclaimer: my blog keeps smashing words together after I hit publish; that’s not actually me trying to form post hardcore band names out of everyday sentences.]

We were duped by Riot Fest again. They said “Gates open at 11, guys!” and we fell for it. Our Lyft driver, Bobby (he asked us to tell him things about Pittsburgh and he definitely doesn’t want a Primanti’s sandwich, guys), got us there promptly at 11, only for us to stand in line for 90 MINUTES. Why you do this, Riot Fest? Why so mean? Aside from having a musical know-it-all standing behind us (talking about Gwar like he didn’t know Oderus died, though) and then being rained on for 30 minutes, it wasn’t the worst line I’ve ever stood in.

But then the lines started moving and we were one of the first 50 to be let in. It’s so strange being there that early, before any of the stages are bumpin’, none of the food vendors are ready, and people are just roaming around aimlessly in an attempt to familiarize themselves with the grounds.

This was the first year for Douglas Park to host the festival. When Riot Fest started 10+ years ago, it was actually just a bunch of shows split up around different venues of Chicago. It was only within the last 4 or so years that it became the sizable festival that it is today. Since 2012, it was held in Humboldt Park, but after last year, Humboldt Park was like, “Hell to the no,” so the organizers were forced to move it to nearby Douglas Park. Douglas is smaller than Humboldt, so the layout had the stages closer together. A lot of people were complaining about this, but I kind of liked that it was easier to run from stage to stage — last year, two of the stages were so far apart from each other, god help you if you were trying to split your time between the two of them. Henry and I practically walked the soles off our boots last year. It was a lot more hectic and the I’M GONNA BE LATE sensation that I’m so susceptible to really put a damper on my fun at times.

I’m tightly wound. And I have found that I describe myself this way so often, that it’s got to be a future tattoo.

First thing we did once we got through the gates was sign up to be bone marrow donors, which involved having the inside of our cheeks swabbed, so that was an unusual way to start things off, but you know me, such philanthropy.

“Does it hurt, donating bone marrow?” I asked Henry after we walked away with our BONE MARROW DONOR cards.

Henry just smirked at me. “Uh, yeah.”

Fuck.

In an effort to dial back the amount of information I’m tempted to cram down the Internet’s throat, I am going to now make a list of the bands that we saw on Day One, even if it was just a partial set, and then briefly (LOL, what’s that word mean?) talk about the highlights. EVERYSINGLETHING! It was all a highlight! OK, but really. I’m going to try to do this. Henry’s comments/thoughts/reviews are indented.

Bands We Saw On Friday

• Coathangers –  I really am not a fan of girl bands. Luckily, we were just strolling past while they were christening the main stage.
• Into It. Over It. – I’ve wanted to see them for quiet some time so I was excited that this would be the first band of the day for us. Henry was not impressed. My favorite part was when Evan stopped playing a few notes into a song and said, “No. Fuck that. You people paid a lot of money to be here and I’m not playing this song out of fucking tune” before starting over. Respect.
  • I don’t remember.

• Real Friends – I missed them at Warped Tour in July, but was like, “It’s fine, they’ll be at Riot Fest, so…” but then their set overlapped with Mariachi El Bronx, so I only got to stick around for two songs before running to the Roots stage for a Mexican dance party.
  • We’re not real friends. At all.
• Mariachi El Bronx!! – God, I love this band! It’s literally the mariachi side project of the Bronx, a band that I used to really love but admittedly haven’t listened to in a while. I saw Mariachi El Bronx once at Warped Tour years ago and they stole my gringo heart. Even Henry smiled a little bit. Go listen to them if you’re having a bad day or so hungry that you’re not sure what you want to eat. 
  • Nope.

• Bayside – I don’t care how many times I have seen them, I can never miss an opportunity to hear my heart breaker jam “Don’t Call Me Peanut.” Chooch used to love that song when he was younger and would sing it quietly from the backseat, so I got all sad-eyed and missed him a ton during their set. I was a late-comer to the Bayside scene and never really bothered with them until 2009 when I saw Anthony Ranieri on the Where’s the Band? tour, which also featured Chris Conley, Matt Pryor, and Dustin Kensrue. What a fucking lineup of heart-eye emojis before heart-eye emojis existed. That’s one show I would love to relive. Anyway, Anthony ended up winning my idiot heart that day and I have been a Bayside fan ever since, but I still feel likean00b every time I’m in that crowd.  Anyway, go listen to Bayside. It’s like being hugged by someone you don’t mind touching.
  • It’s a band.

• Every Time I Die: I always, always, always miss this damn band every time they play Warped. But not on this day,motherfuckers. We got a good spot near the side and Henry was like, “Who are these guys again?” and seemed pretty relaxed during the intro where they played the theme to Perfect Strangers, like it wasgoingto be a bunchofBalkiBartokomouses andCousinLarrys playing chill 1980s sitcom scores on mandolins. But then Keith Buckley and crew came storming out andHenrysighed. I really liked what I heard/saw butmyactual highlight of their set has nothing to do with the music — we were standing right next to the press gate so after a few songs, a throng of photographers came filing out. I happened to glance at one of them and realized that she looked super familiar. “I think that’s Ashley Olson!” I shouted into Henry’s face. “WHO?!” he asked. I just rolled my eyes because he is so old and dumb and this just proves that he clearly never listens to me when I talk about my interests. Anyway, Ashley is one of the best up-and-coming music photographers I have seen lately. I started noticing her last year when she was on tour with Chiodos, because Craig Owens would always regram her photos and they were stunning. And I never use the word “stunning.”I’ve been following her on Instagram ever since, and her Warped Tour photos this summer just blew my mind. Plus, she has good taste in bands, so. She ended up walking away and I regretted notsayinghi to her. (I even double-checked on Instagram to make sure it was her, and her most recent post was from Riot Fest, so I figured that was a pretty good sign, haha.) Halfway through ETID’s set, she came back! She was standing in front of me for a minute, getting in some more shots, and then she retreated. The guy she was with was still standing in front of me, talking to someone, so she was just hanging back, waiting for him. I really dislike approaching people because I get so awkward and creepy, but I said to Henry, “Ok, I’m going in…” and dove right the fuck into Small Talk Ocean. And it went, well, swimmingly! (God, my writing skills just slay.) I thought it was going to be a “hi/bye” type of transaction, but we ended up having a nice, meaningful chat for several minutes, during which she hugged me TWICE, and said that she had noticed me earlier because I was wearing my (ugh, Chooch’s) Emarosa “For Fox Sake” shirt. So we chatted about how wonderful those guys are and I said, “My 9-year-old son met Bradley this summer at Warped—” Ashley cut me off to say, “You do NOT have a 9-year-old son.” I laughed and said, “I do! I’m 36!” and she was genuinely surprised and kept saying, “NO YOU’RE NOT!” I enjoyed the moment because I know my extended youth is fleeting and these days are slipping through my fingers. I’m reminded of this every time I look in the mirror and see more gray hairs and deeper bags under my eyes. Ashley gave me a sticker and we tookaselfie. “That’s really cute!” she said when I showed her, and asked me to tag her in it so she could save it. I think I’m getting better at talking to strangers! I’ll be kidnapped any day now. 
  • It all runs together after awhile.

Henry was like, “You and all your weird Instagram crushes” when I excitedly showed him the picture. I was happy that he didn’t come with me when I was talking to her because who brings their dad to Riot Fest, you know?

• Coheed & Cambria: Heard part of their set while roaming around. I used to really like them when they first came onto the scene but then I stopped for no real reason. Their drummer is a douchebag on Twitter, that much I know; tweeting shitty things to Jonny Craig’s ex-fiancee and it’s like, “Why do you care? Don’t you have some lame hip hop rhymes to lay down?”

• THRICE: You know how your elderly Uncle Milton is always telling the same stale-ass war story every time you sit down at the kids table to eat fucking figgy pudding, supposing you live inside a Christmas carol? Well, just call me Uncle Milt because DID YOU KNOW THAT MY KID IS NAMED AFTER THE DRUMMER IN THRICE? Well he is. It’s true. (His real name is Riley,btw.) And I am contractually obligated to mention that every single time I write on my blog about Thrice, or text someone about Thrice, or hear the song Three Times a Lady by Lionel Richie. CHOOCH WILL LOSE HIS NAME IF I DON’T. And then that fucker Bastion from Never-ending Story will have to give him a new one and it’ll be something stupid. Like Chooch.Ok Ok Ok, let’s reel it back in here for a second. Thrice is one of my all-time favorite bands and I won’t get too whiny about it because there are definitely more than one lengthy post in the archives about my love for them, so I will give you the truncated version: The last time I saw them was in 2009 and then they went on hiatus and everyone was like WILL THRICE EVER COME BACK!? They played a show (one show) a few months ago and I knew, I just fucking knew, that they were going to be announced for this year’s Riot Fest and I was fucking right because I spend way too much time analyzing this shit. There were three bands that were announced last May for Riot Fest that made me fall to my knees and beg Henry, and Thrice was one. I was fucking giddy all day, but then right before their set, my stomach got all knotted and my eyes got all moist and sting-y, and I knew I was in for it. Yep, I cried for most of their set—which was SO FUCKING GOOD and it alone was worth the drive to Chicago. Crowd was great and really into it and it felt sogoodto be there in the middle of it all. My connection with Thrice is on another level. Like some spiritual shit. This Riot Fest moment was brought to you by some strong 2003 feels.
  • They’re ok.

Those clouds, tho. Thrice was literally bringing Heaven down to earth. OH YEAH, I WENT THERE.

• Faith No More: Friends. This is the top reason I had to go to Riot Fest. Faith No More is one of the few bands that I never grew out; they’ve stuck with me through every musical phase I’ve gone through, from gangsta rap to synthpop. I was in middle school when I first heard Midlife Crisis (back when it was cool to discover new music on MTV!) and it was the first “heavy” band that appealed to me and I was like OMG someone take me to the mall right this instant so I can buy thatfuckingcassingle (which I still have!). I can’t say that they were a gateway band for me though, because they were literally the only metal-type band that I liked until junior year when I became a closet Marilyn Manson aficionado. Naturally,FNM would go on  to break-up before I ever had the chance to see them, so that sucked. (I did get to see Mike Patton’s sideprojectFantomas though, in 2000…or 2001?) As 7:45 approached, I started to freak the fuck out—I was so giddy and excited and probably super annoying forHenryto be around. (I mean,moreso.)FNM was headlining the second main stage, so there was a huge crowd there. We got a decent spot on the right side, andIwas relieved that there weren’t anydrunkdouchebags around us. Everyone was cool and excited, if not a little disappointed that they were only given an hour to play. But for someone who had never seen them before that night, an hour felt like a fucking gift. I thought it was fantastic — they sounded great, they played most everything I wanted to hear (unpopular opinion, but I REALLY like “Stripsearch” and would have maybe fainted if they played it), obviously MIDLIFE CRISIS. Just hearing Mike Patton’s otherworldly voice traveling across that park gave me chills. I have chills again just writing about it. Also, it wasreallychilly. This was definitely one of the Top 3 moments of the weekend for me, and I just kept murmuring, “That was so fucking amazing.” I need to invent some new adjectives to use when talking about music because “amazing” just doesn’t cut it anymore. The only downside was when Mike Patton told everyone to snap their fingers. I DON’T KNOW HOW TO SNAP MY FINGERS,MIKEPATTON!
  • They were good.

Setlist, according to the Internet (it looks right to me):

1. Motherfucker
2. Be Aggressive
3. Caffeine
4. Evidence
5. Epic
6. Black Friday
7. Midlife Crisis
8. Gentle Art of Making Enemies
9. Easy
10. Separation Anxiety
11. Ashes to Ashes
12. Superhero
13. Introduce Yourself

I still can’t believe No Doubt got to play longer than Faith No More. I mean, I can, because Americans have a knack for making mediocre bands rise above the good ones. But, THAT’S A POST FOR ANOTHER DAY, SMILY FACE.

• Ice Cube: Immediately after FNM ended, the main stage to the left came to life and I couldn’t get out of that area fast enough because — No Doubt. Words cannot express how much I dislike that band and Gwen Stefani. And maybe I’m biased, but holy shit they sounded atrocious. Not just her cat-in-heat voice, but the whole band. I know, I’m full of the unpopular opinions tonight. That band just gets under my skin for some reason that I can’t explain; it’s not even like I associate them with bad memories or anything. They just have never sounded pleasant to my particular ears. I remember in high school when No Doubt was playing at Starlake and pretty much every fucking female I knew went to that show, regardless of how much they liked them, if at all. I was like “Lol, nope,” stayed home and listened to Spanish gangsta rap, probably. Anyway, back to 2015: Henry and I finally made it across the park to the Roots stage, where Ice Cube was about to headline. I had no fucking qualms with Bye Felicia’ing No Doubt in favor of Ice Cube. I was never even really a big Ice Cube fan, but my inner Yo Girl was definitely curious to see his set, which to be honest was mostly one long commercial for Straight Outta Compton, but it was high-energy, he sounded great, and the crowd was fucking going nuts. There were people climbing trees, trying to get a better view. His special guests were his son, MC Ren, and Yella. Some people were speculating that it was going to be Dr. Dre, and if I had been one of those people, I would have stayed for the whole set to find out. But I was pretty confident that Dre wasn’t going to show up to perform for an hour on a stage that wasn’t even the main one. So we left after I got to hear Check Yo Self, which I have to admit, was pretty fucking cool.

Douglas Park didn’t have any lights so if you weren’t close to a stage, good luck. There was lots of stumbling and stepping in invisible mud pits on the way to the exit, and then a long walk into the sketchier area of the neighborhood, looking for the designated Lyft pick-up area, which is one of the reasons I could never go to Riot Fest alone: there are too many things you have to know about! Too many logistics! Thank god Henry looks into all of this or I’d probably be sleeping on a bench in Douglas Park right now instead of blogging in my dining room.

So, impromptu props to Papa H for getting me there and back all three days with absolutely no incident.

***

We got back to our shitty hotel after a pleasant ride with a Lyft driver (“You were really talkative with tonight’s Lyft driver; you must be hammered,” Henry observed, to which I clarified that I was not hammered from the ONE Strongbow I drank eight hours earlier, but that it was because I thought the driver was cute, duh) and I collapsed onto the bed and cried, “TONIGHT WAS FUCKING AWESOME.”

Then we fell asleep to Jaws, which was also on when we left earlier that morning, too.

GOD, EVERYTHING WAS SO PERFECT THAT DAY.

While I’m trying to sort through my cluttered, unsophisticated 15-year-old’s diary full of thoughts on all the bands I saw this past weekend, let’s talk instead about the VENDORS.

Music festivals are RUDE. You’ve already spent Heaven’s rent on a ticket (and if it’s more than a one-day festival, plan on eating lots of pb&j for the next month since you just sacrificed  your grocery money) and now there’s all these food vendors and merch tents lining up to take your car payment too.

I mean, unless you do a better job at planning for these things than I do. Which, thankfully, Henry does. He had been saving for months! What a novel idea that I didn’t even consider.

The downside to this is that he had been hoarding actual cash money so that we wouldn’t have to use our debit cards at all that weekend. I say “downside” because that money was in HIS wallet so I had to constantly ask him if I could buy things and I felt like Chooch, begging for every shiny thing.

What a strong, independent woman I am!

I’m so used to going to Warped Tour, where we’re at the mercy of the venue-provided food options. And it’s overpriced bullshit food too, like chicken tenders and nachos that cost $10. A vegetarian’s nightmare. But Riot Fest is a foodtruck Valhalla, and almost every food vendor has vegetarian fare for all of us plant gourmands. I was really sad last year because I felt like I didn’t have time to take advantage of this bevy of meatless options lining the perimeter of Humboldt Park. This year, I vowed to eat a shit ton of foods!

Aaaaand….I failed to eat a shit ton of foods. I’m sorry, but food < music. All three days, we grabbed something quickly for lunch before hitting the stages, and if there was enough downtime in between bands at some point, I would declare that a second feeding was allowed.

Henry didn’t like this rigid feeding schedule that I put us on, but shit gets real out there in the field, OK? Those food lines get so long after a certain point in the day and that’s time that I just don’t have to waste.

Day One:

As soon as I saw the Dark Matter tent, I was ON IT. I have been smitten with this coffee ever since last year’s Riot Fest, and I occasionally order bags of their coffee online—they’re the reason I drop-kicked my Keurig to the curb and bought a French press. God love them.

Henry handed me some cash and took off for a porta-potty, leaving me to approach the Dark Matter tent with way too much enthusiasm. There is something about Henry’s presence that keeps my exuberance dialed back (I think this is also known as STIFLING), so anytime he leaves me alone, I can get kind of over-the-top.

Like a dog off its leash.

“I LOVE YOUR COFFEE,” I yelled at the guy in lieu of saying of hello. I don’t even know if he is the Dark Matter guy. I don’t think he was expecting to be yelled at in such a positive matter that soon after the gates opened. “I’M FROM PITTSBURGH AND SOMETIMES I FIND MYSELF SITTING AT WORK, DREAMING OF DARK MATTER.”

“Oh wow, that’s really cool!” he said after I finally shut the fuck up. “Here, take some stickers and a pin,” he insisted, pointing to the free shit along the counter. And then, after filling up a cup for me, he said, “Wait right here,” before walking to the back of the tent.

Henry had returned by then and asked me why I was still standing there.

“I don’t know, he told me to wait here,” I shrugged, dreamily sipping my cup of wet happy. And then the Dark Matter guy came back and handed me a free t-shirt!

God, I love Dark Matter.

And I love Riot Fest.

AND I LOVE YOU.

(I didn’t bother giving my nails a fresh painting for Riot Fest. They barely hold up during a regular show, let alone a three day fest.)

Quickly scarfed down a vegan taco from Tica’s Tacos. It was OK. It had a plantain on it and plantains are good. But all I cared about was chewing that shit up quick-like and running to the next stage. Henry ate ribs or something. I’m not sure.

I made a mess of my taco.

I was really excited about Puffs of Doom after Googling them when the Riot Fest food vendors were announced.I was going to get some banana Nutella concoction but at the last minute decided that my mouth was feeling particularly contrary to bananas that evening (I have flip-flopping taste buds) so I yelled “NO GET THE PEACH ONE” to Henry who has to do all of my food ordering because I get anxiety. (I hate decisions!)

I’m OK in actual restaurants though. I just get nervous when there is a line of hungry people behind me waiting to order their food and here I am, being in the way as usual, god forbid.

And there’s another tangent no one cares about.

The peach thing was just OK. I split it with Henry and usually I want to eat all of things for myself. He ended up getting some delicious white chocolate dessert egg roll thing and split that with me and it was much more delightful than my peach puff.

Henry had fries for dinner because it was the shortest line and Faith No More was about to start; I had nothing because in case you missed it, Faith No More was about to start!  Food was the last thing on my feeble mind at that point.

I had a late vending machine feast at the “hotel” – generic chex mix and half of a Snickers. Concert lyfe,  y’all.

Day 2:

Older than Henry!

We got some Connie’s deep dish as soon as we arrived at Douglas Park. I know, I know, it’s no Giordano’s or whatever, but it got the job done.

Later I had Guinness ice cream because I love beer-flavored food but not beer-flavored beer. It was really good. That’s my Yelp review.

Dinner was another hectic scramble because we had a very small window of time and everything was crowded except for that idiotic Puffs of Doom place and some Billy Goat burger stand next door. So I had a savory artichoke puff which I ate so fast because I was in such a hurry to get to Billy Idol’s stage  that I don’t even remember what it tasted like. Spinach artichoke dip inside of a puff pastry, I’m going to wager.

Day 3:

Again, we got there before any of the bands started, so we hit up the Fat Shallot, where Henry got some type of weener and I got a grilled cheese. It wasn’t too fancy, but it got the job done. I don’t know why I was so excited about the food vendors being announced, because I knew that this was going to be a weekend of eating out of necessity and nothing more. To be honest, I probably could have gotten by on protein bars. Goddamn Henry, throwing wrenches in my festival schedule with his annoying habit always having to eat.

We spent a good portion of Sunday afternoon at the two smaller stages because the lineup over there was tight as fuck. Dinky Donuts was in the vicinity, so Henry bought a bag of chili cinnamon ones and they were so moist. MOIST MOIST MOIST.

Warm and moist.

I loved them.

We split curry fries later that night while waiting for Snoop Dogg.

I know, we really lived it up.

As far as merch goes, there was so much I wanted! One of my favorite Etsy sellers, Martha Rotten, had a booth there. (Not to burst your bubble, but her name is FRANCENE not Martha.) I was excited to meet her in real life, and we had the most awkward exchange of all time, because ETSY PEOPLE ARE AWKWARD. I should know. I’m one of them.

Anyway, I own one lone Martha Rotten piece:

I was really trying hard to add to my strange jewelry collection (she has a pewter Last Supper cuff that I had my eyes on) and I think that Henry was actually going to cave and give me money (Weak, Dependent Woman Almost Gets Permission From Big Man, story on page 6) but you know what happened next? I suddenly turned selfless and decided that I would just buy something from her shop at a later date, and instead just bought my KID things because I missed him so much and like my mom before me, I know all about buying a child’s love.

We bought him this cat shirt from Harebrained Designs (they’re partners with Period Panties, lol):

And one of my favorite t-shirt companies of all time, Choonimals, was there again! I’ve been following these guys for years, ever since they first started popping up at Warped Tour. This past summer, they actually partnered with Warped Tour and not only sponsored the two main stages, but also designed the 3D commemorative ticket for 2015. I love their animal designs so much and as usual, it was tough to choose one, and I started to get real gushy at this booth too, like the t-shirt version of Dark Matter coffee. “I GO TO WARPED TOUR EVERY YEAR AND JUST LOVE CHOONIMALS AHHHHHHH” as I shoved my bulging eyeballs back into their sockets. Henry was like, “OK PICK A SHIRT SO WE CAN LEAVE BEFORE THIS MAN CALLS THE COPS.” We ultimately settled on this one for Chooch, which he’s excited to wear for picture day:

It was cute — he was like Choonimals!! as soon as I pulled it out of my Epitaph bag.

Last year, this artist–-ChuckU—was there and I was drooling over his prints but Henry was like POOR PEOPLE DON’T BUY ART, MOVE ALONG. This year, I finally talked him into buying one of the cat designs for Chooch, who already has the best cat art collection in his room.

Some of my other favorite vendors were there again too, like Then Now Always (I bought one of their necklaces at Riot Fest last year and every time I wear it, I feel happy) and KoalaCore (the best t-shirts!) but Henry kept reminding me of his blue collar status and also the fact that we’re going to Philly this weekend and we don’t want to sleep in the car, do we? I hate having his gruff voice of reason in my ear CONSTANTLY.

(Don’t even make me calculate all the money he spent on beer, though! But, I guess he had to numb the pain somehow.)

Stheart was there again too and I was straight casing their tent; I think I was alarming them. I just really wanted Henry to buy himself one of their slouch beanies because I like him in beanies but I like him best in SLOUCH beanies because then he looks slightly more my type. He was so close to picking one out but then was like “NOT RIGHT NOW” so I guess I’ll just get him seven of them for Christmas, along with a closetful of fitted flannels, gray jeans, TOMS, a neck tattoo, and The Artist In the Ambulance on vinyl.

***

Today at work, I low-key cried at my desk because my body is nothing more than a giant flesh-chalice of  emo blood and I can’t even go to a club show without collapsing into a melodramatic lump of post-show depression, so how do you think I’m handling the first week after three entire days worth of music? NOT VERY GRACEFULLY.  I will try not to be too ridiculous with my music recap posts. NO PROMISES.

Henry’s response to my “I JUST CRIED AT MY DESK, WAH RIOT FEST” text was “oh erin.” He must have been too tired to type out “honestly.”

I’m very fragile right now. Handle with care.

As if you don’t know by now what Henry looks like at his most irritated and put-upon, here are a series of Henry bombs (I lied—some are straight-on shots that he knew about and was probably saying STOP as I was taking them). I haven’t done a Henry Bombs post in awhile because like everything else in my life, I lost interest.   

The “Day One, Band One, WTF am I Watching Right Now?” shot. This was during Into It. Over It. I thought they were lovely. Henry thought, well, his face says it all. 
  

The “Maybe If I Look For Ted Nugent on the Band Lineup For The 3rd Time, He’ll Show Up” shot. 

The “Professionally Giving Some French Broad Directions In The Fancy Econo Lodge Parking Lot & Then Spent the Rest of the Day Imagining Her French Kissing Me As Payment” shot. 

   
 The “I’ve Had A Lot Of Beers, Can’t Maintain The Frown, Whatever Band This Is Sucks But I Can’t Get My Face To Reflect That Sentiment! FROWWWWWN COMMMMMME BAAAAACK!” shot. 

The “Just Chillin’ With The Homie Yelawolf; He Probably Hates Manchester Orchestra, Too” shot. 
  

The “When Manchester Orchestra Is So Boring, I Make Origami With My Empty Beer Cup & That’s When I Know It’s Time For Another” shot. 

The “Hey I’m Gonna Get Another Beer Before I Finish This One So I Can Doublefist My Way To Oblivion While You Watch This Shitty Band That Sounds Like That Last Shitty Band On That Other Stage We Just Walked A Mile From & Then Maybe I’ll Buy a Beanie From the Stheart Booth So That I’ll Look More Like One Of Those Post Hardcore Boys You Like So Much” shot. 
  

The “Calculating How Much Beer Money Will I Have Left If I Pay Someone From the Hellzapoppin’ Circus to Set My Ears On Fire So I Don’t Have To Listen To Snoop Dogg Tonight” shot. 

The “Quick Gimme a Mirror, ‘Bloody Nugent, Bloody Nugent, Bloody Nugent'” shot. 
  

The “Nope, Nothing Sounds Better While Sitting” shot. 

The “Having My Head Adjusted After Going Hard In the Thrice Pit; Just Kidding, It’s Only My Afternoon Grooming” shot. 
 

The “Do We Really Need To Stand So Close For Every Time I Die? I Feel Very Unsafe” shot. 

  The “I Bet If I Had a Car This Bitchin’ IRL, I Could Bag a Woman More My Speed, Someone Who’d Be Content With Watching a Cheap Trick Cover Band At The Corner Bar Once a Year” shot. 

The “Thinking Of All the NCIS Marathoning I Could Be Doing This Weekend, But Instead I Had To Put On Pants Just to Have My Ears and Wallet Violated” shot. 

The “Shoulda Stayed in THE SERVICE” shot. 

The “I Hope She Spills That Fucking Coffee, McDonald’s-style” shot. 

The “FIRST IN LINE FOR MORNING BEER!!!!” shot. 
 The “Oh Ho, We’re Not Friends, Please Find A New Boyfriend Before We Go Home Today—Wait, WE STILL HAVE ANOTHER DAY?!” shot. 

Well, we just went to get breakfast at the FANTASTIC Econo Lodge ($69 a night, friends!) only to see some girl in her early 20s, wearing unstrapped overalls and a tube top thing (are we still calling them tube tops in 2015, or has Urban Outfitters given them a more hipster-approved title? Like Uberband? Post-tube? Totesbandeau? Rackshizz? Lena Dunham’s Boob Thong?), standing near the food with some older lady who was saying, “This is not right, this is a food area” and then the girl said, “I need help” and the lady said, “THEN I WILL CALL THE POLICE” and I noticed the younger girl was holding a clump of hair and looked like she was probably high on meth. 

I mumbled, “Oh. Nope,” and Henry and I spun on our heels in tandem and came back to the room. 

That being said, IT’S LIVEBLOGGING TIME. Just a warning: my phone LOVES to autocorrect my blog posts when I’m not looking so I can’t be held responsible for any ludicrous typos. Just the normal ones. You know how bad I am at GRAMMAR. (Seriously. I forgot the “at” in that last sentence at first. I am so good.)

8:00am: Henry just came back in from taking HIS stuff (and not mine?!) out to the car and said now the girl is sitting out there, eating a muffin, and all of her stuff is in garbage bags. 

8:05am: We just checked out and that girl was sitting in the lobby going round and round with the front desk clerk, who I think now might be her SISTER?! She was like DONT WALK AWAY FROM ME! and the older lady was like I HAVE CUSTOMERS! (OMG me and Henry are now a part of this story because WE WERE THE CUSTOMERS so now, years from now, when they tell this story around the fire on Christmas Eve, when they get to the CUSTOMERS part, I hope they describe me as “That young Jennifer Anoston-looking sweetheart” and Henry will probably be “and her old, grizzled captor.” 

That girl totally lives there though. 

8:41am: We’re on the road now and I’m nostalgically playing Riot Fest music for Henry who is unenthused and just yelled at me for not helping him get change for the toll booth, to which I countered, “Yeah well, I don’t have my sunglasses!” (?) Henry said, “That’s not my fault. I can’t be in charge of your sunglasses when I’m already in chafe of everything else. Like, your tampons.” Haha it’s true. 

But really: Alexisonfire and Beach Slang up in here right now. 

9:36am: Henry just flipped out because the toll booth lane we were in had a malfunctioning ticket thing and he pulled over and left me in the car (DANGEROUS) so he could be a good professional driver by skipping off to the highway office thing and reporting the broken machine. Also, because he needed to get a ticket, I guess. He just came back to the car and exhaled deeply, like he’s so winded from being a turnpike kiss ass. 

10:13am: Welp. Just took a detour to LaPorte, Indiana’s historical society because they have the wheelbarrow that a mass husband killer used to cart away their bodies. But…they’re closed on Mondays. Henry just threw a royal bitch fit as I quietly whispered “sorry” and then proceeded to crack up. But hey, LaPorte is kind of pretty, isn’t it Henry? Kind of? No?

   
 
 LAPORTE, represent. 

10:46am: twenty minutes into Set Your Goals, Henry casually asked, “Is this the little guy and the big guy?” AW HE REMEMBERED! And the big guy was actually just regular-sized, but the little guy was so little that he made the other guy look big. I forgot how much I loved this band! I went nuts over them during the summer of 2009 and made Alisha go to their sold out show at Mr.Small’s on my birthday. It was a total sausage party and some fat guy shook his sweat all over Alisha and she did that thing where she tries to murder me with her Fairuza Balk eyes. 

11:52am: PS I think we crossed the time change line thing. 

12:13pm: At a rest stop near South Bend and a bunch of Riot Fest travelers were there too and now I feel homesick for Douglas Park. (THAT IS WHERE RIOT FEST WAS, OK?!)

12:43pm: I just had a huge epiphany.   I was just telling Henry stories from when I had to take Home Ec in middle school, and how much of a disaster I was. “I’m not surprised,” he mumbled. It was because we were talking about buying a sewing machine for a project we want to do (“we” lol) and it made me think about when I had to make these boxer-type shorts and mine should have been so cute because I had CANDY CORN fabric but instead they just came out looking wrecked. As I was telling Henry this story, I was overcome with a sense of doom and these repressed memories of home ec misery came flooding back to me. I forgot how much I disliked the teacher and how panicked she made me feel, especially during the cooking portions of the classes. I would get sick to my stomach on home ec days. Is it any wonder I rejected domesticity?!

1:55pm: just left the Four Season family restaurant in Montpelier, Ohio and I was so happy to finally sit down for a meal after three days of eating while standing in the middle of thousands of people. Henry ordered lemon rice soup becausethe hipsters on Yelp told him to. He said it was great but it was made with chicken broth so I couldn’t form my own opinion on this matter. 

   
 I ordered the Four Seasons omelette which was basically a Greek omelette and HUGE — I was so excited until I took a gigantic bite because I’m so fat and IT WAS LOADED WITH CHICKEN. I don’t know how I missed that on the menu. Luckily the pieces were giant and easily pick-outtable. I could only eat about a third anyway and then Papa Pig swooped in and ate the rest. I messaged a picture to Chooch and he was like “haha figures.” Now Henry is ranting about how he’s fat because Chooch and I never finish our food and apparently we hold a gun to his head and force him to eat it for us. 

Meanwhile, I paid 50 cents for a copy of Frank Talk to read at the table so I wouldn’t have to talk to Henry. My new life goal is to get something printed in a future issue.   

WHAT IF HENRY AND I HAD OUR OWN MAGAZINE? Wait….I guess that’s just my blog. Maybe I should start charging for subscriptions! Jim & Pat seem to have a real racket going on. 

(Just kidding-I’d never charge anyone to read my typo-laden bullshit!)

3:24pm: IM BACK. I was getting car sick SUE ME. I spent the last hour regaling Henry with stories of Erin the Yo Girl because seeing SNOOP DOGG last night really reactivated that dormant gene. I was telling him about seeing Bone and Biggie back in the day and he’s sneering at me in a way that makes me feel like he’s maybe relieved he didn’t know me then. Especially when I got to the part about lining my lips and wearing almost-brown lipstick. That’s how we did it back in the mid-90s OK?!

4:26pm: You know I’m in a hurry to get home to Chooch when I eschew the Roadside America temptation. CHOOCH I MISS YOUUUUUU. We’ve been messaging and video-chatting via Facebook all weekend so that’s been super helpful. We’re never away from each other for more than a day because we’re REALLY ATTACHED TO EACH OTHER OK. Also I just pretended to shoot Henry in the face at the end of Mr. Bill Collector and he was not pleased. YOUR RENT’S DUE MOTHERFUCKER.  

5:12pm: Chooch just facetimed me and I got to watch him eating pierogies so there’s that. 

6:40pm: Well, Most Boring Liveblog Ever, I’m about to be home in 5 minutes! Would have updated more but my WordPress app is lagging big time and all I have been doing anyway is talking with Henry about music for 8 hours and you guys don’t care about that shit. HENRY sure doesnt! KBYE!

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EDITED TO ADD: So on the way home, Henry was like ” I dunno why you keep whining about missing Chooch because you know you guys will be fighting within 2 minutes, so….”

Came home and Chooch came prancing across the street to meet us in the parking lot (yes, he looked both ways—Henry taught him how to cross the street unjackassedly) and after hugging each other and squealing, we immediately started arguing about whether it was a stick or dog poop that Chooch nearly stepped on in the grass. 

“Thirty seconds,” Henry mumbled. 

Seriously though it was fossilized poop!

(OMFG I missed Chooch so much. He was so excited to see us and even gave us weird nose nuzzles before he went to bed, what the fuck world am I even in anymore?)