Today, we’re going to Cleveland with Henry’s son Robbie and his girlfriend Nikki for the Craig Owens solo show at the Grog Shop. It’s been a minute since I’ve seen Craig solo and I’m excited but super nervous because he’s always been one of The Big Ones in my life, you know? Some of his words are tattooed on my arm, so to say that I think highly of him is kind of an understatement:

My all-time favorite Craig Owens experience was back in 2009 when Alisha and I went to see him, also at the Grog Shop. That was such a fun day and one of my favorite memories of Alisha, so today is making me miss her tons!

I love his solo work, but I will always love him in Chiodos the best. Chiodos was like the gateway drug into me becoming a scene kid back in 2006, so I’m sure Henry has mixed feelings about Craig too, haha. I just pointed this out to him and he did that laugh-without-mirth thing that he does when he wants everyone to know that he hates his life and nothing is amusing.

This is what I live for.

I signed Henry up for my friend Alex’s Blogger Cookie Exchange sometime in October and then, true to form, waited until the last minute to find him a cookie to bake. The Internet failed me i my search for “Really Bomb Traditional Romanian Christmas Cookies” so I eventually settled on some kind of zucchini jalapeno lime thingies because some website said that they were The Best. Henry didn’t start baking them until Saturday morning and then jawed off at me from the kitchen because I suck at conveying details to him, such as how many dozen he needed to bake and by what time. Meanwhile, I sat on the couch and fought with Chooch over the TV and I somehow lost, so I just kept taking pictures of him until he finally had enough and left the room.

I ALWAYS FIND A WAY.

Never fear, Henry got all seven dozen knocked out and even had a bunch to spare, so the day ended up not being as stressful as I imagined. I mean, there was the still the social stress, don’t worry. I haven’t suddenly learned how to converse strangers.

I’m still me! So I mostly hung out with the kids and that was OK because we on that same level, yo*. It was either that or stand awkwardly with the adults, blurting out things like, “So, how about those leaked Brand New demos, huh?” or “Guys, I found the best wheelchair on Craigslist and Henry won’t buy it for meeeee!” #unrelatable One thing I have learned from failed social situations is that I am a Grade A conversation killer. So now I just keep quiet.

And funnily enough, Henry ended up winning for best cookie and he totally thinks he’s so fucking awesome now. “Do I get a ribbon to put on my blog?” he asked. LET’S NOT FORGET WHO FOUND THE RECIPE….SO.

*(Henry just tried to correct that sentence and I was like, “It’s supposed to be that way…?” and he said, “Oh sorry, I forgot that my English is not the same as your English. I guess I’m not your level.”)

Later that evening, a car pulled into the church parking lot across the street from us and Santa got out! At first, Chooch and I were really excited. But then I was like, “Why did Santa leave his car on? Parked at an angle? With the door open?” We happened to be leaving for Castle Blood at that exact time, and our car was parked RIGHT NEXT TO SANTA’S. By the time we crossed the street though, Santa was on the move, straight stalking through the parking lot with the calculated gait of a killer. He was headed straight to some lady who was getting out of her car and I started to instinctively flinch and squeeze my eyes shut, anticipating the swing of the ax that he was surely about to pull from behind his back. But instead, she was like, “Blah blah blah” and then he turned direction and started to walk toward the church.

“OH MY GOD, HE’S ABOUT TO GO ON A SPREE!” I cried to Henry as we sat in the car and watched him disappear into the darkness. “FOLLOW HIM!!”

Henry was super annoyed about this because he wanted to drive the opposite way, but I made him drive through the back of the parking lot as I scanned the area for Scary Santa. The door of the church’s basement/cafeteria was open and full of people in matching t-shirts.

“They’re having a PARTY, Erin. Santa’s here for a fucking PARTY,” Henry sighed. I caught a glimpse of Santa inside the cafeteria, mingling with the guests.

THEN WHY DID HE LEAVE HIS CAR RUNNING!? The whole scene was confusing and shady as fuck. But I didn’t have time to stick around and sleuth it out because we were on our way to pick up Corey and go to Castle Blood for their annual Cryptmas tour!

I love that Castle Blood comes up with several non-Halloween tours throughout the year. For Christmas, the denizens decorate their rooms to reflect their own personal visions of Christmas, or “Cryptmas.” It might be a no-scare tour, but it’s still fun as fuck, and I know I say this after every visit, but I think this one is my new favorite! It’s been a long time since I’ve been there with Corey too, so I think that definitely made it more fun. He was having mild panic when we were in line because of the anticipation of crowd participation. I’m usually cowering behind a tall person in these situations too, but there is something about Castle Blood that brings out the Old “Ooooh, Me! Pick Me!” Erin. Too bad I have competition now: effing CHOOCH. He is such a Castle Blood attention hog!

Castle Blood was amaze as usual. My favorite parts were:

• When Chooch was instructed to write if he’d been naughty or nice and we were like “why is he writing so  many letters….?” and it was because he wrote “Naughty, because I’m Satan.”
• In Gravely’s office, when I was told to pick someone from our group and give them a Christmas wish, I chose Henry and angrily spat, “I wish that you get an engagement ring from Santa so that you can put it on my finger.” That didn’t make anyone uncomfortable or anything.
• Seeing my favorite vampire butler, Shard! I love him because he shoots down all of Chooch’s attempts at being a smart ass, haha. I had been referring to him as my Castle Blood boyfriend but then my friend Professor Scrye told me that I might want to wait until September and I was like, “Durr?” followed very quickly by an, “Oh my god.”
• The gypsy room where I was The Best at deciphering all 10 Christmas songs that had been Jeopardized. Chooch claims he got two of them on his own and I was like, “Look, Imma let you think that until we get in the car because I don’t want you causing a scene, but everyone knows I’m the true winner.”
• When I got to decide if Henry could have a cookie and I said NO.
• When Chooch was asked to explain what Christmas is to a confused denizen, and he immediately answered, “When my brother Jesus was born.”
• When I excelled at REALLY HARD QUESTIONS that required the use of LOGICAL THINKING in the room that I don’t know what to call.
• Failing at passing a Christmas ornament down the line 8 times using plastic spoons held in our left hands.
• GETTING TO SEE MY FRIEND DAWN EVEN THOUGH IT WASN’T HER REAL FACE!!

I love you, Castle Blood. Never stop.

Afterward, we went to Eat n Park in Monongahela where Chooch and Corey talked about Vine pretty much the whole time and at first we thought our waitress was legit because she didn’t need to write down our drink order but then she had to write down our food order so Corey was like, “Never mind, she’s not all that.” What a disappointment. Corey and Chooch were going to try and film an on-the-fly Vine in the parking lot while Henry was paying but Corey got all stressed out about it. “What if we make Henry drive through that Do Not Enter for a Vine, never mind, THAT’S STUPID, UGH.” Then they were kicking themselves because Chooch said at the end of Castle Blood, when Hexibart blindfolded him, he was going to say, “Bitch, where?” which is apparently a popular Vine theme? And Corey was like, “WHHHHHYYYY DIDN’T YOU?!?!?!?! WE COULD HAVE VINED THAT!!!!!”

And then some Vine-famous guy was sending Corey messages and he was straight squealing about it, which was making Henry question what he’d done in a past life to land him there at that Eat n’ Park in 2015, listening to Corey get flustered about Viners and me talking about haunted house crushes and Warped Tour.

On Sunday, Chooch had a date with his twin friends, Sophia and Olivia, so Henry and I went Christmas shopping, which I loathe. However, we saw my aunt Susie at Target so that was cool. This was after my morning sob-fest and I had that “just finished crying” spontaneous sniveling going on so I felt like a freak, but I also didn’t want to casually blurt out, “JUST CRYING OVER MY CAT WHO DIED LAST MARCH, NOTHING UNUSUAL GOING ON OVER HERE.” Ugh, I’m such a freak and I hate myself sometimes.

Since I had the Sunday Sads, I bought some new succulents. That always cheers me up for a quick minute. Actually, we stopped at Home Depot because Henry had to get something boring, so I picked up a succulent (actually, it was a tillandsia, no big deal) for my Secret Santa recipient. I was like, “One for her, four for me.

” Because that’s how selfish Leos buy presents.

The other highlight was that Hot Topic was one of our stops and if there is one place in this world that serves as an self-esteem boost station for me, it is fucking Hot Topic. I pretty much immediately bonded with the pastel-purple haired employee. It started with her showing me the Five Nights at Freddy’s bullshit but within a minute we were trading favorite moments from last year’s Warped Tour. Henry was like “Girl, bye” and walked away. And then when I had to give her my email address when checking out, she laughed knowingly and said, “Great email address!” BECAUSE IT’S “BUTGAVINCANTDANCE” you guys. Only Hot Topic employees ever get that, which is why Henry always walks away before I say it because he thinks it’s so stupid how excited I get when I’m complimented on it.

Later that day, I found the tree skirt, so now Trudy looks complete.

Henry was too exhausted after making separate dinners for me and Chooch, so all he could muster for himself was toast and a pretzel, lolforever.

Capped off the weekend with a riveting show about Satanists on CNN, thanks to Barb for the heads up.

I mean, I’m not a Satanist but I realized after watching it that I can really get behind a lot of their ideologies, especially after I found out that they don’t actually do any animal sacrifices.  It didn’t even occur to me at first that Chooch was sprawled out on our Baphomet rug, watching a show about an organized group of people getting ready to unveil their Baphomet statue.

There was one part where a bunch of Christian protesters were being interviewed and one man said, “They shouldn’t be allowed to practice their religion in public. They need to keep this in their basement” or something to that effect and I whipped my head over to Henry and just as my big mouth was opening to purge the obscenities from my system, he cut me off by saying, “I know, Erin. I know.”

Meanwhile, Barb was disappointed in the show. Not enough virgin sacrifices, Barb?

I might need to move to Detroit, is all I’m saying.

Realizing that probably a whole hour had passed without me bragging about something, I spun around in my seat and smugly announced, “I got invited to the Castle Blood cast holiday party, and I’m not even a cast member, NO BIG DEAL.”

“What’s that?” Todd asked in a mildly disinterested tone. He’s been trying to work on that though, I feel like. 

“Oh come ON, Todd!” I cried exasperatedly, as if I have never talked about CASTLE BLOOD before. “It’s that haunted house I go to all the time!”

“Look, you got too many things in your life, OK. I try to keep up with all of the bands, and then you go and throw a wrench in it with this haunted house now.” Todd sounded defensive, and Amber² was laughing at her desk.

“I wish Henry could hear this,” she said.

SORRY THAT I TRY TO LET MY CO-WORKERS INTO MY FABULOUS LIFE.

God.

Glenn was gone for the day when I made my announcement, which is why there isn’t a single derisive sentence up in there. 

And maybe also: people-eating food.

Party People!

• Janna
• Chris and Monica
• Kara and Harland
• Cara
• Angie
• Blake and Aaron (and their two friends who came later but I forget their names because I had already had too much to drink by then)
• Amy and Dick
• Barb
• Wendy, Shawn and Summer
• Lisa
• Corey WHO WAS LATE (j/k I knew he was coming late)

It’s a pretty awesome feeling to know that you have friends who will indulge your random whims. When I sent out the Facebook invite for this get-together, I didn’t anticipate that many people would be into it. Of course people were wary, and possibly also dry-heaving, but to my delight there was lots of gross recipe-posting and discussion about what to bring! My friends rule. I love you, Friends.

Even Wendy, who wouldn’t make jellied chicken salad.

Fonduing.

I would like to point out at this juncture that Wendy’s baby Summer is likely staring dreamily at the clown in the painting behind her, because I caught her ogling ALL OF THE CLOWNS in my house. It’s a treat to know that Summer, at such a young age, has opened up her heart to our misunderstood face-painted brethren.

That time Monica disapproved of Henry feeding Chris.

Bar had the best view in the house: Trudy’s ass.

We have some party-pleasing Xbox game called…I forget now…but up to 4 people can play along on their phones so while it looks like everyone in this picture is bored to the point of scrolling through Twitter, they were actually all playing inappropriate games with my inappropriate kid.

I told Wendy she could bring Summer because that meant Barb would come too. I do what I can.

Welcome to the demonic possession portion of the night. Bomb shelter foods do that to you!

Aaron told Lisa that she had a beautiful Jello mold. This boy is seriously invited to all of my parties from now on.

Plus, he was very complimentary of my helter skelter interior design methods! Younger people get me. And after talking about an array of topics that covered OJ Simpson and the band La Dispute, it occurred to me that I’m not actually socially awkward at all, I just don’t know how to talk to people over the age of 25. Something to work on for 2016, maybe.

LOL, no.

That time the Bromance spawned a baby.

Shawn and I talked about mutual bands we like for awhile and it was really nice so I’m not mad at him anymore for saying that Kurt Travis sounds like someone’s pissed-off little sister.

OMG Cara and Angie both brought me succulents! I love them so much! (The succulents, I mean, although Cara and Angie are very nice too!) You have no idea how into succulents I am. Lol, never mind. You totally know. I named the one that Cara brought me “Dierdre Hall” but I’m still thinking about fitting names for Angie’s. I’m sure there will be an entire blog post about it, so stop back.

I thought that I didn’t get any photos of Lisa but then I found this one and rejoiced! I’m really sentimental. I’m sure she’s thrilled because I talked to her the next day and whined about not getting a picture of her and she was like, “You have a million pictures of me doing everything from being sexually harassed by two middle aged men at the .38 Special show to peeing in a McDonald’s bathroom stall. I’m sure you’ll live without one of me eating gelatin, too.”

She didn’t really say that but I’M SURE SHE WAS THINKING IT.

Ladies and gentlemen: My sister Amy and brother-in-law Dick! This was their first time at my house because they live in Ohio so usually we meet halfway when we want to get together, but neither of them had to work so they were able to attend! I don’t get to see them nearly as much as I would like, so I was stoked.

One of the highlights of the night for me was when Corey arrived just as Janna was on her way up the steps to go to the bathroom, and he literally PUSHED HER out of the way and yelled, “JANNA STOP I HAVE TO GO SO BAD!” and then bathroom-blocked her.

And even better was that when he was done, she was about to make her way up the steps again but then I had to go really bad so she was just like, “Jesus Christ, go ahead,” throwing her hands up to my hole-y ceiling.

Fuck! It just occurred to me that there were people there that night who weren’t previously privy (I almost typed “poncheezied” which is a Dance Gavin Dance song, god get a clue) to Janna’s struggle with Robitussin addiction and abusive mother and Corey and I totally missed a prime story-telling audience.

Motherfucker.

Chooch entertained us with his rendition of “Bang, Bang” and I’m pretty sure this was the point where Monica was furtively whispering, “No really, NOW CAN WE GO?!” into Chris’s ear.

This was how I found Henry at the end of the night.

IN CONCLUSION, the Bomb Shelter Picnic was more fun than I anticipated. And not that I’m complaining or anything, but I’m kind of surprised that not a single person brought Spam!

I found this old Pentax photo that I took of Chooch when he was like one and a half (I was never into counting by months after he turned one). It makes me kind of want to use the Pentax again even though there are a million apps out there that basically achieved the same effect nowadays. Technology is kind of a drag sometimes. 

 Blog update: it’s half-fixed! I still can’t upload photos from my phone and at this point I’m kind of just over it. Blogging is kind of a drag sometimes. 

Also, Chooch titled this post. Titling posts is kind of a drag sometimes. 

I’m kind of a drag sometimes. 

Sometime back in October, I had on my Eavesdropping Cap and overheard Glenn’s work bro inviting Glenn to his Halloween party. “OMG I guess the Feud is officially over then!” I excitedly thought, because it had been AWHILE since he’s popped on over to monotone it up with Glenn. I guess my lunch date plan really did work after all!

Once Glenn left for the day, I giddily chatted with Todd and The Processor Formerly Known As Amber² about it. I had it in my head that Work Bro’s soirees are like vintage key parties of yore so I started sending Todd and Amber pictures of people with stiff posture and fake smiles standing around gelatin castles and Velveeta-filled fondue pots. Then I started looking at gross Betty Crocker party food pictures, because I have hobbies.

Around this same time, my friend Kate posted a vintage recipe on Facebook for these curious things called Carnival Creams:

I was at once repulsed and intrigued. Ketchup in a dessert!? I love Ketchup and I love desserts, but…

Still, I couldn’t get this out of my head and decided that I needed to try it. This recipe paired with my imagination churning out visions of square Halloween parties made me realize that not only did I need Henry to make these, but he needed to make these for an audience. I needed to have a vintage food party and make other people bring disgusting nostalgia eats as well.

“It’ll just be a small thing!” I promised Henry. “Not a full-blown party. It won’t be stressful!” And he just closed his eyes, sighed, and mumbled, “What do I have to make?

”

I wanted him to make like eleventy other disgustingly atomic abominations developed for bomb shelter supper clubs, but he was like, “I AM NOT MAKING FOOD THAT PEOPLE ARE NOT GOING TO EAT THAT IS WASTEFUL ERIN” so I had to try and find things that were gross but possibly edible, so tomato aspic (decorated with crawfish heads) and jellied chicken salad were out of the running. We settled on the Party Potato Salad below, because at least the inside would be edible.

The party was Saturday, December 5th and Henry did that thing that he always does where he left me alone at the last minute so I had to CLEAN BY MYSELF. Actually, I only had to straighten up the living room but I hate “straightening up” because it doesn’t fit my crooked lifestyle. Luckily, there was an early Penguins game on so that helped me make it through.

This picture has nothing to do with the party, but I took it while I was waiting for Henry and Chooch to return from picking up Blake and his friend Aaron. But this post is just about the food, so we’ll get to the people later.

Turns out, Carnival Creams aren’t that bad! I mean, you can taste the Ketchup. I won’t pretend like you can’t. But somehow, it works. The texture was similar to ice cream, and the almond and maraschino cherry bits on top really added a new dimension to it. Henry even had the forethought to buy pasteurized eggs so no one would get sick and die!

And then he used that topic as an opportunity to brag during the party about how he does, in fact, know how to pasteurize an egg on his own. OK Farmhand Henry. Go back to the barn.

Hilariously, the next day, my sister Amy commented on Facebook and said, “Those were bomb!” and then Lisa called me to tell me, “I can’t get over how good those Ketchup things ended up being” and then at work on Monday, Wendy was like, “I can’t stop thinking about those Ketchup things!” and I was like “INORITE?!” I’m so happy that they ended up stealing the show since the whole party was planned around them!

Guys, I “designed” those radishes! Henry was supposed to buy snap peas for me to make leaves and stems but he didn’t so, floating flowers it is.

The potato salad was literally preserved beneath of gleaming skin of mayo and gelatin. Get yo’ gag reflexes ready, party people!

And I did the pineapple too! I had to touch pearl onions a million times and it was disgusting. I was excited to bring in some of my succulents off the window sills because several of them are potted in perfect Goodwill nostalgia finds, especially Ted NUDEgent up there.

None of my parties are complete without at least one punch variety and this one especially would be a failure without one. I knew whatever punch I decided on would have to have sherbet in it. I settled for a lime sherbet with champagne and other crap, and it was a real crowd-pleaser! I barely had a chance to take a picture of it before Aaron was diving in. He and Blake came over about an hour before the party started, so he was getting pretty antsy for Punch Time. ME TOO, BRO. Parties stress me out.

Until I get sloppy.

Aunt Ethel just seemed like a good vintage name.

That cat food-looking shit in the upper left was Henry’s very own idea: deviled ham. “What? People ate this shit all the time back then,” he said as he plopped it onto the plate.

And that Jello salad up there was brought by Angie. It didn’t stand a chance once people discovered what it was: strawberry Jello pretzel salad. This is like a staple at Pittsburgh cookouts, plus it’s vintage-y too, so everyone was happy that there was at least one thing that wouldn’t haunt their dreams that night.

I MADE THESE! They’re vienna sausages with a generous dollop of Easy Cheese on top. I think Blake and Aaron were the only people eating those.

Wendy wouldn’t make the jellied chicken salad I sent her, courtesy of Octavia who I desperately wished lived close enough to attend, and instead brought something more on her skill level: salami wrapped around a cream cheese and horseradish filling. I hear they were a hit, though!

“You can’t go wrong with cream cheese,” Wendy said, and I would have to agree with that.

Kara, bless her heart, substituted soysage for the hotdogs that her Polka-Dotted Mac n Cheese called for. IT WAS DIVINE!

Chris and Monica made a Prosecco berry gelatin in a Han Solo mold and it was delicious. Aaron, the self-appointed food critic of the night, was really impressed with it. “Did you learn how to make this in France?” he asked incredulously.

“No, Pinterest,” Chris laughed. This was the point of the night where I deemed Aaron to be my favorite person in the whole world, and then Monica sadly said, “Well, Chris, let’s go home.” JUST KIDDING, THEY’RE STILL MY FAVORITES TOO!

I wasn’t able to get a picture of Lisa’s lime Jello salad before it was attacked, but it was the perfect color for this particular party, and I was really pleased with its addition to the table.

Stupidly not-pictured: The cheeseballs my sister Amy made (so good!) and Janna’s fondue pot that we thought she had left unattended with oil simmering in it, but it turned out it was beer because she was making BEER CHEESE, fuck yes. You can’t have a vintage snack attack party without a fondue pot, so Janna was like the unsung hero of the night.

(That originally said “herp” instead of “hero” and it took everything I had inside me to not leave it that way.)

OK, I’m splitting this into two parts because otherwise: picture overload. But what else is new. Next post: PEOPLE EATING FOOD.

(And no, my blog isn’t fixed. I have to put pictures on here the old-fashioned way which I forgot how to do so Henry had to do it for me. He has to call WordPress today because they haven’t been able to figure out what the problem is, so I told him to tell them I’m going to SUE THEM and he was like, “Yes, because that will make them really want to help us fix this.” And it’s funny because I’m sure whatever broke my blog is something that I did all on my own, because this isn’t some widespread WordPress epidemic.)

GUYS! Chooch and I are taking our Carly Rae Jepsen obsession public — WE’RE GOING TO SEE HER AT MR. SMALL’S IN MARCH!!!! 

HENRY JUST CAME HOME (sorry, I’ll try to abstain from CAPSLOCKING at your face) and smirked at me because I’m sitting here under a blanket watching CRJ YOUTUBE VIDEOS ON TV AND CRYING HAPPILY.

(For real this time, CAPSLOCKS off.)

I just asked him if he’s going with us and he said NO in a tone that implied WHAT A DUMB QUESTION. 

Chooch and I are trying to get Corey to go with us OMFGGG I might have a heart attack. 

In other news, Henry still hasn’t fixed the photo-uploading problem on my blog and I’m too distracted to care. 

I wrote this on LiveJournal in 2005 & it’s making me laugh because not only am I exactly the same, but now I have a sidekick. It’s no wonder Henry grumbles and makes excuses every time I suggest going for a walk around the neighborhood.

****

People will tell me, “Hey, you really need a hobby.” And you know, I often find myself agreeing, as a means to excuse whatever odd personality quirk of mine that’s in the hot seat. But I was thinking about it this morning, and goddammit – I have tons of hobbies!

I like walking through cemeteries while making off-color jokes about dead people. I like stalking people of otherwise uninteresting stature. I like eating uncooked ravioli and tortellini. I like making up new names for my cats (I just changed Nicotina’s name to Breakfast Nook). I like making pets out of fruits and vegetables. I like to walk down dark streets, alone, while pretending that a murderer is after me.

So maybe my hobbies aren’t of your average crafty/sporty variety, but I’ve learned to embrace them with every fibre of my being. But I left out my favorite: Annoying Henry. I live for the satisfaction of pushing him to the point where he inhales through clenched teeth and widens his eyes in a furious glower.

Annoying Henry can take place anywhere, really: in the car, on a plane, in the house, while he’s cooking, at the grocery store, in a cemetery. But my favorite time to push the Henryific buttons is during our nightly walks. Add snow to the equation and you’re in for one night of flawless agitation.

I was fairly calm and collected yesterday, so Henry didn’t hesitate when I suggested bundling up for some neighborhood ambling. I waited until we had been walking for a good ten minutes before springing into my antics. That’s when the snow throwing began.

Henry never flinched as each ball of packed snow slammed into the back of his coat; his pace never faltered and he continued along the sidewalk, hands in pocket and head facing straight ahead. I spied a discarded beer bottle jutting out of the snow and reached down to pluck it from its nest. Henry, without so much as a quick glance thrown over his shoulder, matter-of-factly said, “Put it down.” How did he know? He does this psychic eye routine all the time. Here’s a quote from an entry about cemetery carousing:

So this lady was there with her dog, right? They went into the woods. They were back there for awhile and I said, “Hey, do you think that lady — ”
Hoover: “No.”
Me: “You didn’t even know what I was going –”
Hoover: “Do I think she’s having sex with her dog? No.”

HOW DID HE KNOW!?

Twenty minutes without provoking a reaction can really start to nullify the fun-having. I remedied this by forgetting the snow and moving on to bigger and better tools of attention. I dropped out of sight and while Henry unknowingly continued walking down the sidewalk, I began the laborious task of chiseling off a hunk of ice from a snow bank using only my shoe. Relentlessly stubbing my toe was a small price to pay for the exhileration of ambushing Henry. I crept back onto the sidewalk and, stooping down low, caught up close enough to whale the sharp block of ice-encrusted snow at his feet.  The chunk of ice skidded into the ground right behind Henry, erupting into a billion frozen shards and crystals, like a bag of uncooked rice exploding onto a linoleum floor, as the pieces of ice and snow swirled and clattered around his feet. And his gait never quavered. How he does it, I’ll never know.

Realizing that this plan of attack was no good, I accepted the fact that it was time to resort to the one thing that gets him every time – my voice. I caught up to him and fell into place at his side, and began tugging on his arm. “I’m bored. I’m hungry. I want hot chocolate. Do you love me? Have you ever been in jail? Wanna break into that house? Wanna steal that car? Who do you like more, Bobcat Goldtwait or Kato Kaelin?”

It wasn’t working. Time to dupe him. We turned off the main road that we had been walking along and onto a quiet street lined with houses. It was dark with very little through-traffic. I stopped walking.

“Let’s make out,” I urgently demanded.
“Why?” Henry was suspicious. Good.
“Because it’s so romantical out here! There’s the snow and trees…and look! There’s one of those Dippers!” I exclaimed, pointing toward the sky.
“That’s Orion, you asshole.”

Dipper or not, I had him right where I wanted him. Moving in for an embrace, I quickly slipped my snow-encased gloves down the collar of his shirt. Finally, I elicited the reaction I had been gunning for the whole time. He forcibly removed my icy gloves from his chest and shouldered past me. Acting hurt, I dejectedly said, “I just wanted to be close to you. Won’t you at least hold my hand?”

I really hate it when my plans backfire. He made like he was about to acquiesce with the hand holding, and took my hand in his. Only, this wasn’t what hand holding was supposed to feel like! Burning pain raced up my arm and I could hear the popping and snapping of knuckles and cartilage. Not ready to bow out so early into the fight, I sucked in a lungful of air and bellowed, “HELP ME HELP!!” We both froze in our places and looked up and down the street, waiting for houses to light up in vigilance. Realizing that he had been backed up against a wall, he flung my hand away from him and mumbled, “Why can’t you just walk? Just walk.”

And then he bought me a sundae at McDonald’s, but he refused to walk up to the drive thru like I suggested. Can’t win ’em all.

Remember how last week, WordPress was all, “Congrats, loser, you’ve wasted 8 years of your life blogging on this site”?

Well, apparently my present was to have my photo-uploading ability revoked. Actually, I’m sure it’s something that I did because I break all things, and after Henry spent FOUR DAYS trying to “fix” it on his own, he finally did what I suggested in the first place: contacted WordPress. They’re “looking into it,” so I can’t post anything that requires photos, which is, you know, all of them.

I just want to be able to tell my imaginary friends all about my new(-to me) gray wig, my unbirthday zombie doll that Gayle made for me, and my Vintage Snack Attack party that was actually kind of OK! (I mean, people-wise at least, it was great!)

So in the meantime, while I’m over here trying to be the P-WORD (“Patient” — blech), here are some Vines that Corey and Chooch made Saturday night, because they’re apparently a Vine Team now and Corey is keeping a note of “Vine Ideas” on his phone for the next time.

When they finished making this one, there was a huge eruption of “YES! WE DID IT!!!”s and maniacal cheering coming from Chooch’s room. Some friends were still at my house due to being attacked by vintage snacks, so Corey, Chooch and Kara’s son Harland (he was helping direct the videos) nearly bowled each other over as they ran down the steps to show all of us. Corey was bitter because the reaction wasn’t as enthusiastic as he anticipated.

“I GUESS NOT EVERYONE HAS VINE HUMOR,” he said as they went back upstairs to make more Vines.

They did another one too but I drunkenly agreed to let Chooch swear in it and because of my past inability to keep the line drawn between blogging and parenting, I think I shall abstain from posting it. As if anyone really thinks my kid doesn’t swear.

From the very first moment I first heard Dance Gavin Dance almost 9 years ago, I was instantly smitten. I was already neck-deep in the post-hardcore scene, but this just sounded so different to me. I obsessed hard and it quickly became the official soundtrack of 2008-2009, to the point where Henry had become numb to it. Through numerous line-up changes (including three singers!), I have never given up on them. So when they announced a few months ago that they’re celebrating their 10 years as a band with a tour, I knew I had to go even though Jonny Craig’s band, Slaves, was going to be there and I absolutely cannot stand them (I actually despise the other guys in that band more than I hate Jonny Craig, so you know it’s real). I felt like a hypocrite though, since I’ve said many times that I wasn’t going to support a single thing JC does anymore, but then Kara reasoned that I shouldn’t feel that way about this, because I love DGD so much and JC is a part of their history. So, I decided that I would go and just deal with it.

And I’m so happy that I did! It was mind-exploding. In addition to Slaves, Strawberry Girls and A Lot Like Birds were also on the tour, which meant all three DGD singers plus one former guitarist could potentially perform together. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I missed that! And I am a super huge Kurt Travis fan kid, so getting to hear him sing with ALLB and then DGD in one night was almost too much for me to handle. It’s been over 5 years since I’ve seen him perform with DGD so I was in sheer Heaven.

And seriously, this 15 second Instavid from ALLB’s set gives me unlimited heart-flops and goosebumps:

DGD’s set started out with their current singer, Tilian, who I do actually love a ton and he has really breathed new life into DGD. I love the direction they have been going with him and I’m happy to see that he’s survived through two albums so far!

With Tilian, they played some songs from Instant Gratification and Acceptance Speech:

• Stroke God, Millionaire
• On the Run
• Strawberry Swisher, Pt. 3
• Death of a Strawberry
• Jiggler
• Variation

The crowd was pretty great all night, but it was nuts for DGD. Especially anytime Jon Mess starts screaming. He is fucking beloved and more than anything, he is the one I would want to meet someday even though this entire band intimidates me so badly. I just think he’s a literal genius, 100%. Even HENRY likes Jon Mess and has said more than once that he’s his favorite DGD member, past or present. For Henry to even seriously answer that question is a huge deal. It was fun watching him do a slow clap after every song, too. HENRY IS A FAN.

After Variation, they left the stage while the Instant Gratification banner fell, revealing another one with a giant “X” made from all of their album covers. And then everyone returned, with Kurt Travis and Zachary Garren replacing Tilian and the current touring guitarist from Eidola. IT WAS FUCKING AMAZING.

With Kurt, they played:

• Tree Village
• Rock Solid

• And I Told Them I Invented Times New Roman
• Robot With Human Hair 2 1/2

This video isn’t from the Cleveland show, OH WELL. The only one I could find from that one was terrible.

I still don’t like Jonny Craig for personal reasons that admittedly have nothing to do with his music and I’m not sorry for that, but I have to say that it was pretty amazing getting to relive some of my favorite moments of DGD history, and especially hearing this song, it was just unbelievable. Discovering DGD really changed the course of my musical tastes and I will forever attribute that to Jonny Craig, because it was his fucking stupid golden voice that hooked me from the very first second and forced me to pay attention. DGD definitely isn’t a band for everyone and the only reason I even gave them that first play was based on their band name. So yes, sometimes judging a band by their name pays off.

• Uneasy Hearts Weigh the Most
• We Own the Night

I remember seeing ALLB on tour with DGD a few years back and thinking that for sure Kurt would come out and sing “Uneasy Hearts…” with them, since that song has dual-singers, but instead, Donovan from Hail the Sun did the honors. But on this night, Jonny, Kurt, AND Tilian all took turns singing it and my head and heart could barely handle the fact that ALL DGD SINGERS WERE ON THE SAME STAGE.

The show ended with just Tilian-era DGD blowing the roof off the joint with “We Own the Night.” I just wish that Dayshell hadn’t been on the tour so that maybe DGD would have played longer, giving Kurt and Jonny more stage time. Also, I hate Slaves and literally stood with my back toward the stage during their entire set* (which, by some grace of God, was cut short) but I understand why they were there, at least. It made sense to bring out the past singers’ current bands, and Strawberry Girls, but as far as I’m aware, there isn’t a real connection with Dayshell and DGD.

*(I’m not going to lie, Jonny sounded fine during his set with Slaves but the rest of the band sounds like a tinny landslide of shit-filled pots and pans. I’m not even saying  that because I hate those douchebags. They honestly just aren’t a good band and it sounded like they were just playing the music for the same song 4 times.)

But oh for fuck’s sake, I just can’t stop replaying this night over and over in my head and smiling and crying and then thanking Henry for taking me to Cleveland on a work night and then buying me this sweet ass screen print!!

DGD is in my Forever Top 5 and I can’t tell you how many times a day I think about the future tattoo I’m going to get to honor them. But it has to be epic. With strawberries and robots with human hair and the art of Mattias Adolfson (with his permission, of course). Because this band has made the music that is fucking everything to me.

I’m still wearing my House of Blues wristband. LE SIGH.

Are you at work right now, in dire need of looking for something to drown out keyboard strokes and coughing chokes? Something to break up the constant tirade of radio station Christmas carols? Well thank god today is my late shift and I’m home right now, listening to what’s good and I have some time to kill so why not post them here for maybe one or four people to listen to and either love, hate, or not care?

(I just sprayed one of my finished paintings with sealant and I inhaled a little bit and now I’m typing this while floating 8 feet in the air on a cotton candy pillow.)

1. OK KID – Heile Welt

German rap-emo hybrid. Don’t let the “rap” part deter you because this is the jam. I heard this on an emocore playlist and fell in la-la-love.

2. Hotel Books – Dreaming or Sinking

Henry rolled his eyes and sighed when I put this on once in the car because he dislikes this genre. Spoken word mashed with sad boy music and it’s perfection. The last I heard, they were working with Craig Owens a new album and I’m pretty stoked for that.

3. Before Their Eyes – We Won’t Make The Same Mistake Again (Feat. Hotel Books)

And when I first heard that Hotel Books was featured on this Before Their Eyes track, I was like, “No. That’s not going to work. How is that going to….Oh damn, this is perfection.” I used to LOVE BTE back in the day, when I was REALLY a scene kid, and I actually had no idea that they were even still making records, so this is just very pleasing to me all around.

4. Citizen – Figure You Out

So I cut you open so I could see you inside out.
And figure you out.

This definition of emocore on Urban Dictionary is so perfect: “the breaking point from where emo becomes so emotional that listening to it is like throwing your soul in an emotional wood chipper, once you hear it you will never feel happiness again.”

In other news:

• I’m still trying to make sense of my thoughts and feelings of the Dance Gavin Dance show from last week. One day soon I will write about it, hopefully while not abusing the CAPSLOCK. YOU KNOW HOW I GET!!!!111 Every time I sit down to write it, I start crying and wistfully watching YouTube videos from their recent shows and why can’t we just go back to that night, Henry, why!? Or more realistically — WHY DIDN’T WE TRY TO GO TO MORE THAN ONE SHOW!? Henry, you’re the worst.
• Yesterday, I half-jokingly texted Henry and asked him if we could go to next year’s Bledfest. His response was, “When is it?” Not “Where?” or “How much?” or “NO!!!” or “*I’m just going to ignore this text and go back to racing around the Faygo factory on my pallet jack*” So I told him it’s Memorial Day weekend in Michigan and then he was like, “There’s not even a lineup yet…?” and I was like “I don’t care because I know I will like it no matter what…?” and then he was like, “We’ll see” And then I was like “It’s really close to Bill and Jessi…?” and he was like, “*sigh*” but then he started looking up maps and shit on his phone so that basically means yes, we’re going to Bledfest. And Bill confirmed that he’s 99% sure they will be around that weekend, so basically we have to go now, Henry. Thanks bye.
• Ugh, Christmas. But yay – Secret Santa! Work is going to be really fun next week. I’m currently stressed out because my Secret Santa recipient always immediately knows it’s me every year because I can’t just be normal about it. Never forget when I was Glenn’s Secret Santa, LOLforever.

OK I hope you found a song or two out of this post that you liked! Go kiss a succulent for me today!

(Unless it’s a cactus. Then just maybe blow a kiss.)

Alternately Titled: I Make Mistakes So You Don’t Have To.

See Also: Common Sense.

WordPress notified me yesterday that my blog is 8 years old. Actually, it’s a little older than that, THANK YOU very much; I first started blogging on ohhonestlyerin.com in November of 2007, but then Henry was like, “I’m going to switch you over to this WordPress thingie” and then proceeded to lose half of my posts and all of my comments. And guys, this was back when I used to get 10-20 comments on a post! Like, triple what I get now! I’d like to say “Look how far I’ve come!” but…it’s just a blog.

(Technically, I’ve been blogging since 2001, but do the LiveJournal years even count? If they do, I’m about due to retire, right?)

Even though 8 is an arbitrary number, and not really milestone-ish, I figured I would commemorate this achievement by telling you what I’ve learned in 8+ years of blogging. (Don’t worry—it’s not much.)

• If you post pictures of waiters from Dollywood and then put their name + Dollywood in the title of the post, they are likely to find it and ask you to take it down because they didn’t like the “unrealistic speculations” you made about his collection of women’s tongues and blow-up sex dolls.  It might take a few years, but it could happen. And then you’ll be forced to change his name from Sherman to Sherbet.
• If you talk shit on parents from your kid’s school on your blog, there is a chance they might one day find it, and then it will just escalate from there until finally there is a confrontation and did I mention that this is happening to you at a Catholic school? Because it is, and you have to stand there and allow them to say things to you like “We’re so disappointed in you” and “I can’t believe how mean you are” and you struggle to not say anything back because you don’t want to ruin your kid’s life, but then fuck it—just put him in a new school and continue writing shit about people who are dicks to you because it’s your blog and YOU DO YOU, GIRL.
• If you post pictures of your kid in cemeteries, you might have Child Protective Services called on you and an actual case worker will come to your house and start questioning your kid about his “goth mother” and then she’ll take pictures of the dinner that Henry made for him too, just for good measure because maybe he’s an incompetent parent, too. All because you enjoy traipsing around graveyards and some idiot on the Internet was offended by that.
• If you talk shit on carnival rides, don’t be shocked when an angry CARNY shows up in your comment section.
  • If you talk shit on a roller rink, don’t be shocked when an angry ROLLER RINK AFICIONADO shows up in your comment section.
• If you post candidly about every single facet of your life, you might draw attention from some MENTALLY UNSTABLE PEOPLE, one of whom might throw you an incredible surprise party in a mausoleum because she spent the first two months of your “friendship” obsessively reading your blog from the very first post to the current, so she knows EVERY FUCKING THING about you, and then when you don’t give her enough attention, she will flip the fuck out and send you an 18 paragraph text message about why she unfriended you on Facebook and then she will SEND HER HUSBAND TO YOUR HOUSE the morning after Thanksgiving to “have a talk with you”!?
  • This is just one example of the CRAZY that can happen. There have been many others. I mean, my awful ex-BFF Christina and I met on LiveJournal, after all. The ultimate cautionary tale.
• If you write a disparaging blog post about a moderately-famous singer in the post-hardcore scene, it might become your most-viewed blog post of all time which means you’ll have to take the heat from a slew of angry scene kids and douchebag apologists.
• If you swear a lot and use a lot of sex analogies when describing food, companies probably won’t be flooding your email with invitations for free meals in exchange for reviews.

Some random favorite posts of the last 8 years that you can maybe read while you’re avoiding eye contact on the bus or ignoring your screaming children:

1. Sunday Lock Out
2. Don’t Ask Me About Tofu
3. Best/Worst Picture of Me
4. Butler County Fair: Kirk vs. Andrew
5. Law Firm Walking Challenge, Part 1 / Law Firm Walking Challenge, Part 2
6. Henry’s Big Gay Secret
7. The Case of Chooch v. the Bee and Me v. Parental Paranoia
8. Chooch and Erin’s Sick Day

To anyone who still reads this,  I love you lots like tater tots. If I make it to 10 Oh Honestly Years, maybe I’ll auction off Chooch or something. SAY HELLO SOMETIME!!

When I was little, there was some broad named Maureen who was the local notary public, and as a kid, I had no fucking clue what that even meant, but that my dad would openly call her a dish.

I didn’t know what that meant that either. I mean, my mom explained it, sure. “It means he thinks she’s hot,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. I always thought it was a stupid way of saying that someone is hot.

It wasn’t until we got Trudy that I truly understood the sentiment behind the term. Because good Lord, my friends, my fucking Xmas mannequin is a goddamn dish.

Especially now that she’s all metallic green and draped in glowing lights and glittering garland. She is a fucking BABE SUPREME.

Finally, after nearly 20 years of pining for a mannequin to pile Christmas presents beneath, I finally had one in my house, my dream was being realized after all this time. No more Christmas trees, real or artificial, that made me feel like I was being untrue to myself. It might seem like a joke to you, but I’m sure there are psychotherapists out there who could draw some conclusions, connect from metaphorical dots, and give my addiction a name.

But for now, let’s just call what it is: my time to finally get down with a holiday like the rest of you.

And finally, Saturday evening was trimming time. I invited Janna and Corey because who better to celebrate the unveiling of Douglas Fir’s hot sister than the two people who are like, “No, this is normal. I mean, there will be wine though, right?”

Corey was already wound up before he even got here. Sadly, Janna saw this on Instagram (I THOUGHT SHE RARELY CHECKED IT!) so she was on to Corey’s plan. Oh well. There will be other times to lace her ‘Tussin.

I happily set out Angie’s cookie dough truffles, and Corey mistakenly thought that I cared enough to get them specifically for him and Janna.

“Pfffft, no!” I laughed. “Angie had extras and gave them to me after breakfast today.” Corey didn’t seem to care either way, because they were delicious and he kept making me text her to tell her.

And then it was, “TELL ANGIE I’M EATING ANOTHER ONE! HERE, SEND HER A PICTURE!”

Meanwhile, Corey’s contributions to the night was a pack of Toasty peanut butter crackers. He shared, at least.

Henry didn’t even have the boxes of decoration ready to go! So I had to berate him in front of our guests while he flared his nostrils before disappearing into the basement to fetch our whopping two whole boxes of Christmas decor.

We’re really into holidays.

While Henry untangled lights, I reminisced over the first time we bought a tree for the house, when Chooch was 4. I had never bothered previously because for me, it was No Mannequin, Why Bother? But then this awful thing called SOCIETAL PRESSURE happened and I though it was The Right Thing To Do now that I had a kid in preschool.  My mom actually bought a live tree for us from Home Dept and brought over some of my old baby ornaments and a shit ton of tinsel and then peaced out before Henry had a chance to complain. It’s hard to remember back to a time when my mom was still a mom, and that was definitely one of the last happy memories she gave me.

My friend Alisha came over to help decorate that year, and when I realized that we didn’t have a tree topper, I cut a star out of a disposable baking tin and then taped it to a McDonald’s straw.

I’ve been using it every year (except for the one year when I swapped it out for a Jonny Craig Angel topper, ugh) but I had to replace the McDonald’s straw two years ago.

I sent Alisha a picture of the tree topper (she lives in Arkansas now) and she was like, “Gee, you know that you can get an actual tree topper at Walmart, right?” But even though I’m not poor anymore, I will never throw this away! It has too much sentimental value.

Anyway, After Henry strung up the lights, I strangled her with one strand of garland and then basically pawned the rest off on everyone else because decorating shit makes me tired and the hockey game was on and I wanted to drink more wine.

The phalanges came in handy.

HANDY.

Earlier in the day, she was in the dining room. I forgot she was there, turned too fast, and got slapped by a hard green hand right in the face. It hurt so bad but I was like, “Trudy, I can’t hate you” so I tried to just laugh along with Henry, who unfortunately witnessed the abuse.

I put a Henry ornament right up in the crotch.

Speaking of crotch, I considered dressing her in a pair of granny panties, but laziness overruled the idea, so bottom-nude it is.

My dream is to get Henry’s mom JUDY to pose with TRUDY for this year’s Xmas card.

“Is grandma going to have her pants off, too?” Chooch asked.

“Oh god, no!” Henry cried.
  

And then Henry reluctantly took our picture. Chooch couldn’t decide if he was happy or not.

FATHER XMAS.

Corey and Chooch both aspire to be Vine famous. Chooch made this Vine without any of us paying attention and then Corey saw it and was like YOU TOTALLY HAVE THE VINE HUMOR DOWN! and now I think he’s trying to be his agent or coach or something. I don’t know.

Making another Vine.

Meanwhile, Chooch taught himself how to play the Tetris music on his keyboard, so it was the perfect lunacy soundtrack for Corey’s incessant gushing over the truffles. Over and over, faster and faster.  Our house is literally onomatopoeia for “pandemonium.”

You guys know he secretly loves this shit.  
Trudy from a stalker’s POV.

You can hear Henry gruffly bitching at Chooch in the background. Something about crackers.

Henry in his typical state.

Everything feels more homey now that Trudy’s around.

I struggle every year when the holiday season rolls around. Some years are easier than others. This past Thanksgiving, even though I chose not to do anything, was just another reminder of how abnormal things became after the passing of my grandfather. Most years, I try to fight back by going out of my way to celebrate with friends and the few family I have in my life.  But now that Trudy is here, I finally feel excited again. It’s like a new beginning! A new tradition born! THE MANNEQUIN THAT SAVED CHRISTMAS!

I woke up the next day more hungover than I was that time we dyed Easter eggs in 2011. So…total success.

In related news, I couldn’t stop thinking about Notary Publics last night in bed.

“What are they even?” I asked Henry, who was about 85% asleep by then. “All they do is like stamp shit right?”

And then: “Do you think I could be one?”

“Sure. Be whatever,” Henry murmured into his pillow.