Alternately titled: Another Dumb Idea!
Last week when I was meandering about town during my lunch break, I kept pausing to either tweet or text Henry about all the perils in my path. You know, like Planned Parenthood protestors, city school kids, an errant paper bag skipping across the pavement. (I COULD TRIP!)

And it made me think about how much more fun it would be to SEND A POSTCARD instead of these electronic means of communication. Like my lunch break is a vacation and oh motherfucker, do I wish you were here. 

Perks: 

-snail mail is never a bad thing and gives the mailman something to read other than Pennysavers and campaign mailings. 

-I love handwriting things and it will give me something other than my name to scribble over and over again at my desk. And let’s be real, I don’t have the time/attention span to write full blown letters. 

-I’ll have something to give Last Mail!

-WHAT A PERSONAL WAY TO STAY IN TOUCH!

If I have your address, don’t be surprised if you get some weird sketch of the Stalker of the Day (I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY’S WATCHING MEEEE) or a poem about the trash in the river. 

And if I don’t have your address and you want to get a random post card, email me! Butgavincantdance@gmail.com

I’ll probably also send them to random addresses as well because that’s not creepy it’s sweet. 

I’d like to send one a day and I’ll start as soon as Henrh buys me stamps, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. #HenryProblems

And if you wanna send one back from your own lunch break, PLEASE DO! Postcard frenzy!!

“Well, WHAT?!” Pearl cried worried.

“She’s not breathing,” Garnet sighed.

Pearl’s eyes grew red and tears flowed down her face. *Beep Boop* A sound approached the creepy hospital.

“Vrob Br Pls,” a weird noise came into the hospital.

“I think there are aliens here!” Pearl cried with tears still flowing down their face.

They peered over at Yuki as she banged her head off the wall.

“Should we leave her?” Garnet asked.

Pearl and Amethyst nodded together.

*Whoosh*  the door slammed open upstairs. *Boom* the creature or thing fell to the ground.

“Should we hide?” Garnet questioned.

“Yeah,” Pearl and Amethyst agreed together.

Garnet walked over into a closet and set Scarlet down. She then ran behind an office desk and hid under. Pearl ran over to a ladder and climbed it. When she reached the top she found the exit. She saw a grey round ship with handles at the bottom. She felt something in her pocket. She reached in and grabbed a walkie-talkie. She turned it on and talked.

“Garnet, Amethyst. I think I know what’s happening. I climbed a ladder and I got up to the main floor. I see a green, skinny, black-eyed figure staring at me!”

“Okay, we’ll check it out,” Garnet said into the walkie-talkie.

Pearl climbed back down and there was another green figure staring at her.

“Arrest her! This hooman has found our secret! Execute her!” The “ALIEN?” shouted to his guards.

One of the guards had like 7 layers of steel armor. The other had a vest on.

“All I wanted was to give Penelope some orange jellybeans. God!” Amethyst thought herself.

“There’s more of them I can smell them!” the Alien Lord shouted.

He walked over to the closet. Scarlet fell out and hit her skull off the floor. She started to breathe. Thank god!

“Told you! There’s more of them! Find them all!” the lord bragged.

He looked over at Penelope and Yuki.

“Capture that beast and hooman, NOW!

” he demanded.

Penelope hopped around and dodged the rope and cuffs. Yuki had tantrum and hit the guard. The guard fell, cracked his green skull open on the asphalt ground. The blood was green. It was everywhere.

Tons of highs and lows this weekend. What else is new. My manic-depressive life, woo. Things are winding down. It’s raining and the sound is calming. But then Chooch comes barreling into the room and my nerves are poppin’ off again.  Ah, such Sunday.   

My favorite part of Saturday was when Chooch strode into my room while Xiu Xiu’s “I Love the Valley Oh!” was playing, and without skipping a beat, he said, “Ooh, Xiu Xiu!” And then sang the “la la la la la lalala” part. 

“Are they going to come here soon?” he asked. “Because I have to see them.” My heart sang! I’ve only seen Xiu Xiu once, in Kentucky in 2008, and it was one of the scariest, most bone-chillingest shows I’ve ever seen.  I will never forget the first time I heard Clowne Towne in 2004; I had the best nightmares. 

Two Xiu Xiu fans under one roof. This etched more frown lines in Henry’s brow. 

 :(   

We went to Waggener’s Country Kitchen (???? I’ve been there three times and just don’t know) with Blake and his girlfriend Hailey last night for dinner and Chooch’s comedy act was on point. Which is to say, I have no idea how he didn’t get us kicked out. He was so sassy to the waitress too and I silently prayed she wouldn’t have the cook spit in our food. 

Spit or not no spit, my grilled cheese was perf. 

“You always get grilled cheese,” Blake laughed. 

Yeah, because it’s the best! One day I’ll finally get that tattoo that my pal Sarah drew up for me. One day. Sigh…

Also, if Hailey ever comes to hang out with us again, I will be super shocked. I hope we didn’t scare her off because we like her!

  
Shit got rowdy. 

 We spent most of the day working on phase 1 of this year’s Easter portraits. And I hope you read that as: “We held butcher knives to each other’s throats and screamed about how much we fucking hate each other.”

We’re ok now. But I think this house is definitely on its way to being haunted. 

One upside of the day though was this morning when Henry actually sat down and watched CNN with me and for the first time in 15 years, we found ourselves politically aligned. Thanks, Donald Trump. Vehemently disagreeing with you has brought Henry and me closer together!

And now, The Walking Dead, where we get to watch other people being violent. 

**WARNING: Lots of words about bands and music ahead. Maybe there might be something you like though, so you should give it a chance. It’s 2016! You never know!**

It’s not that I don’t look forward to every show I attend, but the last few months have been excruciating waiting to see Citizen. I’ve been listening to them a ton since summer and this tour lineup was golden, start to finish. Originally, I was going to go by myself, which is no big deal but this show was at the Altar Bar and the vibe there always brings me down when I’m alone. I can’t really put my finger on it, but somehow that place is a magnet for assholes and I almost always have a problem with someone. And I knew I was going to have to stand on the balcony on account of my old lady brittle bones, which meant I was going to be surrounded by the drunk assholes who shout to their friends over top of the music. And what’s  more annoying than paying money to see one of your favorite bands when you can’t escape banal conversation?

Mr. Smalls > Altar Bar, forever.

Anyway, on Monday—two days before the show—I twisted Henry’s arm hard enough* that he conceded. Thank god too, because I had already bought his ticket, ha.

*IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Before the show, we had a quick dinner at Thin Man Sandwich Shop. I had that grilled ricotta chiesi you see down there. IT WAS SO GOOD. I love that place.

Guy: Henry, how are you?

Henry: Not thrilled, guy. 

After dinner, we walked over to the Altar Bar, where Henry immediately started grimacing as he saw generations way below his lining up at the door. To be fair, it was a pretty mixed bag as far as ages go, but Henry’s so old that he’s always going to stick out. I at least got carded still.

We were early enough that I was able to snag my favorite balcony spot, which is practically right over the stage. I knew it was going to get crowded on the floor and I haven’t been feeling well enough to risk getting a shoe in the face, or to even be that close to people in general.

Milk Teeth came on promptly at 7:

Talk about being transported back to the mid-90s, holy shit. And I mean that in all of the best ways. They have a grunge throwback sound that made me feel like I was back in Lisa’s Jeep, learning to drive in Jefferson Memorial.

They’re from England and this is their first time touring the US. And Pittsburgh got to be their first taste of America. That’s….alarming.

I’m pretty vocal about my pickiness for female singers, but I’m board with these guys 100%.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

The girl next to me whipped around, look me straight in the eyes, and said very seriously, “She is everything. My God!” I agreed with her wholeheartedly, but then she went back to talking to her date and I was like, “HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHEN YOU HAVE BEEN TALKING THROUGH THEIR ENTIRE SET!?”

Other than that, my balcony neighbors weren’t too bad. I even helped her date save her spot when she went to the bathroom. That’s very un-Erin-like. I really must have been sick.

Chooch really likes this video:

Henry had to think about it for two days before committing to a solid, “They weren’t bad.”

I was all up in some GIRLPOWER after that, though. SOMEONE TEACH ME HOW TO PLAY BASS. Or how about whatever the easiest instrument of all time is, but maybe one step up from a triangle.

Next up was Sorority Noise! The crowd started to get a little rowdier at this point, which chiseled deeper frown lines into Henry’s weathered face.

This one young girl came pushing through the crowd right as they started and she shouted back every single word, and what the hell is my problem, but this made me cry tears of joy!? I had to stop myself from saying into Henry’s ear how happy it made me to see young kids having something to feel passionate about, but I knew he would roll his eyes so I veiled my face with my hair and cried in private.

I think a lot of it is that I didn’t have that when I was a teenager. I had a lot of canned happiness and sobbing alone in my bedroom.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

I hope when Chooch is older and starts going to shows with his friends, that he’s one of those kids down there ferociously pointing his finger at the stage and shouting along to all of the words that get him through his days.

AND I LEARNED TO LOVE MYSELF MORE THAN I COULD EVER LOVE YOU – gets me every fucking time.

Turnover was next and I had to brace myself for their beautiful blend of modern shoegaze, and also I had no idea their singer had such a Henry-esque haircut! I kept asking Henry if that’s what he looked like in the nineties and he would only answer in various degrees of frowns. He was even wearing Henry-approved jeans. Also, he recently shaved his mustache, so imagine how much more Young Henryish he must have looked.

I was almost peeing my pants, waiting for Turnover. Listening to them makes me feel like going out and catching lightning bugs, or some other precious summer activity that you would never expect me to do. Like, holding hands with Henry.

I was really glad Henry was there, because Turnover is the kind of band that seeing alone would be depressing.

Would you come here and spin with me?
I’ve been dying to get you dizzy,
Find a way up into your head
So I can make you feel like new again

Also? They’re on my record label crush, Run For Cover. There’s not one bad band in that bunch.

Like, for instance….CITIZEN.

As soon as they started playing, there was this massive surge of people pushing toward the stage, and Henry leaned against the balcony with a big smile because looking down disapprovingly upon a mass of crowd-surfers is worth the price of the ticket for him. So while he stood laughing out loud at the kids below, I used that as my opportunity to openly weep and mouth the words to every song, like the true sad girl I am.

I could honestly fill this entire post with Citizen videos because it’s too hard to choose one song to represent them. A lot of people hated their last album because they shifted from a pop-punk vibe to a more grungy slow-burn sound. I personally like them both ways and to me, they’re still the same band. Isn’t that the point of being a musician, to continually evolve and hone your sound? Who wants to keep putting out the same album over and over.

Their old songs seemed to merge effortlessly with the new ones that night, it wasn’t like a jarring shift in the vibe as they bounced back and forth between their discography. I kept reading things on various forums about how crowds weren’t responding well to the new songs, and I’m sorry, but the Pittsburgh crowd was fucking in it to win it.

It was everything I hoped it would be and I felt so alive. Meanwhile, the guy next to me got ditched by his date. Maybe she ran off to find the singer of Milk Teeth, since she thought she was “everything” even though she talked through Milk Teeth’s entire set. So he ended up forfeiting his spot and I was so worried that assholes were going to swoosh in, but two peaceful, older guys (older as in like late 20s, lol) took the empty spot and my night got to continue along down the river of tranquility. Everything was fucking perfect and beautiful and I loved everyone that night, even kind of Henry.

This is how you keep my top from popping off. Get me to at least two shows a month and I won’t rip your face off.

I love them so much.

The next day, I was at work and Henry sent me a text that said, “Last night wasn’t bad.”

THAT MEANS, IN HENRY-SPEAK, THAT HE HAD A NICE TIME!

HENRY IS A CITIZEN FAN!

HENRY LIKES SOMETHING I LIKE!!

What a fucking beautiful night. My heart is exploding.

Apparently, Chooch’s singing skills are sufficient enough to get him an invitation to the All City Chorus. There’s a handful of rehearsals that take place Saturday mornings at a school on the North Side, culminating in some big hoedown at the August Wilson Center in May.

Chooch said he wanted to do it, so I did the parental thing and signed the permission slip, stuck the schedule to the fridge with a magnet, and then actually managed to remember the first rehearsal was this past Saturday.

I’m getting really good at this mom thing. I’m almost as good of a mom as Henry!

We arrived at the school early, thanks to my inability to ever be late in life, and thus began a 2 and a half hour slowdive into the seedy underbelly of the juvenile choral industry. Originally, Henry and I were going to sneak away after the first few minutes (that sounds way more scandalous than it would have been), but then I found myself DEEP IN IT. My disdain for other children is oftentimes similar to the pain of a toothache — if I ignore it, I forget it’s there. YET I’LL SIT HERE AND PRACTICALLY SWORD-FIGHT IT WITH A TOOTHPICK because I’m a fucking sadomasochist.

So I began to seek out kids to hate. I scanned the middle section of the auditorium, looking for the kids that were prone to making my blood boil. Luckily, there was an entire half of a row of them right across from me.

Some broad was passing out folders to all of the kids who didn’t bring one (um, mine being one of them because nowhere did it say PARENTS SEND YOUR CHILD WITH A FOLDER). Everyone who needed one raised their hand and then she counted off how many each row needed and handed them to the first person in each row.

The row that I was fixating on had about 5 kids on the end closer to me, a bunch of empty seats, and then three more kids on the end. One of those three kids had their hand up, and Broad told the kids closest to our end to pass the extra folder down  to the girl in need, but as soon as Broad walked away, one of the kids lazily handed the folder off to some kid in front of him. SOME KID WHO DIDN’T EVEN NEED A FOLDER.

I was all up-in-arms over this.

Henry thought I was White Knighting the girl and mumbled, “Don’t worry about the other kids. Our kid got a folder and that’s all  that matters.

”

I’m not WORRIED about other kids. I just DISLIKE kids and hate missing an opportunity to start shit. And I hate INJUSTICE!!!!

I wanted to tattle so badly, but Henry advised against that.

Still, I had my eyes on that kid from then on. He done motherfucking marked himself.

“He’s not even singing!” I hoarsely whispered later, and Henry shot me the LET IT GO eyes.

The rest of the class was pretty boring. The instructor, some short dude who is apparently my age but looks way older took a lot of time out to teach this band of Yinzer rabblerousers how to properly enunciate things, and I found myself quietly following along in my seat. That was fun but I promise you I went right back to my lazy enunciating ways.

“I don’t know how people have the patience to teach kids. I would have quit  by now,” I spat sourly.

“Pfft. You wouldn’t have even shown up,” Henry said. TOUCHÉ MOTHERFUCKER.

The definite highlight for me was when Mr. Instructor lost his shit in a very calm, calculated manner and said, “You know what I think is the rudest thing ever? When I’m trying to teach and a bunch of kids are talking over top of me.” YEAH BOY. PUT THOSE LITTLE DICKS ON BLAST!

So that actually ended up being a pretty entertaining time-suck. The instructor said that the song they’ll be singing with all of the older kids at the recital is going to be We Are the World, and that fucking song has been stuck in my head all week without them even practicing it.

My friend Jessi has been posting some old pics of Chooch on Facebook and getting me all nostalgic, so I decided for Throwback Thursday to repost the time she and Bill came in from Michigan and helped us throw Chooch a zombie-themed party for his 4th birthday. This is also notable because it was the last time my mom was involved in any of Chooch’s birthdays. #sadtuba

This was in May 2010. HAPPY THROWBACK THURSDAY.

———

Guest list:

• Alisha
• Bill & Jessi
  
• Kara & Harland
• Charlie
• Henry’s mom
• My mom-mom-mommy
• Henry’s sister Kelly & some of her kids

• Blake
  
• Evonne, Sadie & Lydia
• Christy & Claire
• Janna
  

When Chooch told me months ago, like literally it might still have been 2009, that he wanted to have a zombie themed birthday party, I had every intention of going all out. I even started thinking of ideas for like, ten entire minutes.

With the exception of designing the invitations with Chooch (which actually was not last minute and were mailed out in timely fashion), there wasn’t much more that I accomplished, aside from a last minute trip to Goodwill on the morning of his party, to shop for clothes to mutilate and bloody for the photos I wanted to take of each individual party guest, as a souvenir. Kind of like a prom picture, except with blood, a fake cemetery in the background, and a pine tree with Christmas lights haphazardly slung across its lower boughs, which really bothers me now when I look back at all the pictures. I think Bill should have painted the wires green. It could have been a zombie / Alice in Wonderland crossover, guests arriving while an undead Bill slops green paint on a tree and nervously yells about the scary queen (THAT’S ME) who’s running around with hedge clippers and shouting, “Off with your balls.”

The plan was to have the party outside; but like last year, it was around FIFTY DEGREES with the threat of rain. In May. So everything was set up in my mom’s garage to protect the guests from the impending deluge of rain. The kids had enough rain-free time to run amok outside for most of the party, at least. Because I can’t imagine Chooch being contained in a three-car garage for three hours.

Chooch the Zombie Enthusiast flipped his shit when he saw Bill for the first time, post-zombie makeover. We thought Chooch was just playing into it when he used the car as a barrier, but then Bill noticed he was legitimately crying and we all had an “oh shit” moment. Bill retreated to the garage to allow Jessi and I to try and coax Chooch from the car.

“You can open one of your presents now!” I pleaded. That worked. Good thing I used that first, instead of “You can cut Bill with this knife I got here,” because maybe Jessi might not have liked that. (And Bill wouldn’t have had much say.)

And Chooch was fine after that. So fine, in fact, that he wanted Jessi to make him up as a zombie too. I think it was just initial shock combined with Bill’s overzealousness (which Chooch ended up loving later).

Jessi somehow encouraged Alisha and Janna to get made-up, too. They kept trying to get me to do it as well, but having that much make-up on my face is yet another item in my treasure trove of neuroses and just the fact that I had to keep saying no nearly made me break out in hives. It’s probably not good that I took myself out of therapy all those years ago.

BFFs again, no biggie.

And the food! Don’t get me started on that. I had this great vision of mini meatloaves baked in over-sized cupcake tins and then Ketchup’d, like chunks of bloodied flesh. Well, Henry took that vision and fucked it up the ass. He basically made a plate of meatballs. When I voiced my aghast-ness, he then tried to get all Alton Brown: meatloaf edition on me, but I think he was lying. It could have been done.

I don’t even know what else there was to eat, to be honest, aside from what I initially thought were turtles (chicken breasts, apparently). But I will tell you there was no gelatin brain.  I mean, why would there be something so disgustingly anatomical at a zombie party??

It’s a good thing a four-year-old doesn’t give a shit about the catering at birthday parties.

That morning at Goodwill, I found (fine – Alisha found) these two lovely nightgowns and I instantly had visions of my friends Kara and Christy swathed in bloody versions of night attire, and holding their babies in front of the cemetery I set up. The cemetery was the only thing I was concerned about all day. It was a very big deal for me. I texted Kara before she arrived and said, “I have a nightgown; will you wear it?” She said yes and thought nothing of it, because I’ve asked her to do dumber things before.

This ended up being my favorite picture of the day.

I barraged Christy before she was even out of her car. She just rolled her eyes at my request because we’ve known each other since we were four and short of auto-amputation, nothing I do really shocks and awes her. At first, she tried to say that she couldn’t get the nightgown on over her hoodie and I was like, “Bitch, you best be tryin’ a little harder. Don’t make me pretend I’m in a girl gang again.”

Also, this was my first time finally meeting Christy’s baby Claire and she is so sweet! The combination of Claire and Harland was like an upper-cut/right hook combo to my ovaries, though. At one point, Henry even grabbed my silk-gloved hand and said, “Darling, shall we try for another?” And then I rammed my parasol up his tweed-trousered asshole.

The best part was that Kara and Christy both kept their respective nightgowns on for the rest of the party. I like to think it’s because they thought it was AWESOME, but warmth probably had a little more to do with it. They spent most of the party together, in a baby bubble, and I couldn’t  help but crack up every time I turned around and saw the two of them in their bloody nightgowns, cooing to each other’s baby.

“Just another night at the shelter,” Charlie said at one point, and I could NOT STOP LAUGHING. Don’t worry, I said the Rosary that night.

Charlie opted to play the role of “Victim #1.”

I realized afterward that I have zero pictures of Blake or any of the cousins, except Zac. None of the teens wanted to dress up, which I thought was strange since that’s like, something kids want to do. I mean, other than betting on cock fights in Biloxi and foxtrotting with trannies. (Is that still what teens do nowadays?) And Blake didn’t talk to me the whole time. I guess that’s a new thing or something. It wasn’t awkward at all and it certainly didn’t make me cry to Alisha behind the garage.

My mom ordered the cake undecorated, aside from the Happy Birthday part, and then made the graveyard scene with those new Oreos and zombie finger puppets. She apparently forgot to make sure it flowed with the writing on the side, but that’s just my bastard nit-picking coming out. I thought she did a great job! Unlike the photo I took, which is out of focus because I had like, 20 people staring at me and I just wanted to be done. Yet another reason why I’d never consider photography as anything other than a hobby!

He got a ton of great loot, like: a Jason Voorhees action figure, vampire movie collection, Night of the Living Dead DVD, and a Spiderman book (being held in above photo) from Bill and Jessi; a Spike Jr. and a dragon from Evonne, Sadie, and Lydia; a remote control zombie from Alisha; a Leatherface figurine, with interchangeable heads and arms, from Charlie; two plush zombies and a Tony Hawk bike from my mom; this really cool zombie figurine from my brother Ryan; a complete artist’s orgasm from Kara; gift cards from Christy and Kelly; and a Spiderman skateboard from Janna.

It really made me wish I was still a kid!

Before I knew it, three hours had passed and everyone started to leave. There was a Penguins game on that night and I’m sure most of the guests were happy to know that I’d be the first one to abandon my kid’s party for it.

Bill and Jessi had to check in to their hotel first, zombie makeup and all, but came back to my house later to hang out and, more importantly,  so Bill could get called a “douche cup” by Chooch when he had the audacity to deviate from the Lego instructions.

When they came back over the next morning for breakfast, Bill held out his hand and said, “Here, somehow Leatherface’s head made it into my pants last night.” So, now we know what Bill does after drinking a little Manischewitz.  I think that was the highlight of my entire weekend.

Thanks again to everyone who came and showed your love for my little zombie-child. It was so great to see everyone, especially you guys who came from hours and hours away. It really meant a lot to us! (Maybe not Henry, because he’s rude.)

And ever since his party ended, Chooch has been going on and on about his next party. “It’s going to be a CARROT party,” he says so full of certainty. “With CARROT ICING.” And no, he’s not just insinuating he wants a carrot CAKE. This is a full-scale carrot PARTY, you guys. And he wants everyone to dress as carrots. Have fun with that!

Seriously. Pull some Matrix moves and avoid this post.

• Cat update: they’re either sleeping or destroying my personal effects. So in other words, they’re doing GREAT!
• Monday night’s bedtime story involved me dramatically explaining to Henry the extent of my fatness. “The shape of my body is like if a barrel burst open and sludge started spilling out.” Henry, still taken aback at my comparisons after all these years, said, “…..no. You’re not a barrel of sludge…?” And you know what that “…..” signifies? HESITATION. Because in the span of those dot-dot-dots, Henry was visualizing my naked body side-by-side with a busted barrel of sludgey blubber and he had to THINK about whether or not the dancing twin girls emoji could be applied. “I don’t think that’s what I was doing,” he mumbled, knowing he was a dead man no matter what he said at that point. Unable to let it go, I went on. “I’m like one of those cans of Pillsbury biscuits, after it cracks open and dough floods out. Don’t touch my stomach. That’s where most of the spillage is,” I warned as I swatted his hand away. “Oh my god,” he Bob’s Burgered.

• February’s Unbirthday Gift from GAYLE made up for the fact that she’s trying to steal my desk. Obviously the crown stickers are on point but those band-aids, though! I am ALWAYS in need of band-aids. In fact, I was wearing one on my middle finger the day Gayle gave me this stuff because I injured myself in the kitchen before leaving the house that morning. And I used my last Candyland bandaid so basically it was to the point where if I cut myself at work, I’d just have to bleed out I guess. Not anymore! My only beef is that the Dr. Care bandaids have hockey players on the front of the box but THERE ARE NO HOCKEY BANDAIDS INSIDE. False advertisement! I’m going to give all the football ones to Todd because I rather WOULD just bleed out than wrap my wound in any sort of FOOTBALL print. Ugh. Ew. No.

• We had lunch with BARB on Saturday, and I didn’t really notice it until after but Chooch actually LET US TALK. I think it was probably because he was insanely hungry (he ordered breakfast and made sure the waitress knew that it was because HIS PARENTS HADN’T FED HIM BREAKFAST THAT DAY) and really focused on feeding his face, completing the kids activities on the place mat, and fashioning this giant straw with which to siphon my water after he ran out of his own beverage.
  • However, I can tell that Chooch really likes Barb because he’s such a little dick to her. Barb kept asking the waitress to bring her check separately, and then Henry would say, “Nope, just bring one” and this went on and on until Barb finally quit caring and thanked Henry for lunch. “I don’t know what you’re thanking him for,” Chooch deadpanned. “You’re paying for everyone.”
    • And then she gave him tickets to the Pens game because his sarcastic behavior is endearing to some.

• This Facebook post & comment from Chooch cracks me up. Now I want Henry to make a Service Playlist on Spotify. I know for sure CHEAP TRICK will be on it because he saw them in a BAR in TEXAS while IN THE SERVICE. #JudistPriest
  • Speaking of Henry and music, I asked him to name five bands I like that he likes too and he actually started doing it, but then said it would be easier to name the bands I like that he hates, and without hesitation he said La Dispute. So sad. But on a happier note, this just means that he must actually LIKE most of the bands I like?!

• Above, you will see the only succulent stash that those asshole cats haven’t sniffed out yet. KNOCKONWOOD. This morning, I realized some of my succulents are MISSING from the windowsill. THEN I noticed FRAGMENTS of the POTS on the floor, hidden behind the beverage buffet. SOMEONE is covering for the CATS.
  • And it’s not Henry. I called him on my way to the trolley and screamed my face off at him and he was like, “what the fuck are you talking about??”
    • Those cats are so fucking cute but SO ARE MY SUCCULENTS.

• This morning at work we were talking about The Walking Dead. Amber2 was like, “They’re all going to die anyway. They should just give up” and Glenn snapped, “You have to have hope!” Who knew he felt so strongly about the zombie apocalypse? Anyway, I considered Amber’s statement and couldn’t help but agree with her. “Yeah, what would I really have to live for?” I asked myself out loud. “There wouldn’t be any concerts to go to.” Glenn piped up, “And no Henry to serve you.” Excitedly, I asked, “OMG do you guys think I would really outlive Henry in the zombie apocalypse?” That was met with a collective and resounding NO.
  • For the record, I don’t disagree.

• Thanks to everyone who has been reading Chooch’s story that he started writing as a punishment for duping us into purchasing designer jelly beans but is now so thoroughly immersed in the process of story crafting that he’s on the SIXTH “chapter”! He sits down all on his own and starts typing away, pausing occasionally to ask for spelling help or for synonym suggestions. (“I don’t want to use ‘said’ like every time!” he said, and I clutched my heart as it nearly exploded with pride. Sigh. Hopefully his love for writing doesn’t turn into a dead-end like mine did.)
  • Speaking of, I allowed myself to be That Person who commits to something and then quits. I had to bow out of the annual Pittsburgh blog swap thing because I’m just not feeling it and I don’t want to contribute some half-assed piece of uninspired garbage which is essentially what this dump of a blog has turned into and I’m really sorry for that. My attention span is not great these days/months/years.
• In happier news, my knuckles have been providing some SATISFYING cracks all day today. Those and deep sighs are the secrets to my success, whatever you consider my “success” to be.

• Out of the blue last night, I asked Henry if he remembered the moment he told his mom that I was pregnant (with Chooch; I’m not presently incubating anything other than a loaf of strong self-loathing), and then I took it upon myself to guess how he said it. “‘Great. My fat gf is having a baby, mom’,” I mimicked him in my best “choking on a dick” tone that I reserve for all of my Henry Impressions. And he said, “Yeah that’s exactly how I said it. ‘Mom, my Pillsbury Doughgirl is pregnant.” And then I cried myself to sleep.
• Henry “went to the store” to “buy screws” last week and was gone for over an hour. Totally cheating on me. Insert “long screw” jokes here.
  • I didn’t even ask to see said “screws” when he finally “came home.” I AM SO DEAD INSIDE.
    • But then I look at THIS and I’m alive again:

Ciao forever? Or ciao for now. *DEEP SIGH/KNUCKLECRACK*

Ladies and gentlemen, my dandy kid.   

They turned around, they didn’t know who it was. Penelope grinned. The lady looked at Penelope, then disappeared. She must of been a magician if he could just disappear.

“Um she didn’t say anything besides , No you won’t, but okay,” Garnet mumbled.

“UGH” Scarlet said while she collapsed.

“We need to help her!” Garnet panicked.

“Over there, looks like a hospital,” Pearl stated.

But little did they know it was haunted.

“Huh?” Garnet overheard.

Nothing. I really got to mute myself from them. *beep* okay good. Little did they know it was haunted. 6 people had died there. The doctor was horrible, and accidentally gave himself food poisoning. He died in the hospital working on a patient. He’s known as the “Wrath of the Veins”. They walked in and looked around. Floors creaked, doors opened, and the scariest of all… the floor collapsed.

“Aiiii! The floor! We’re dead!” Amethyst cried.

But luckily for them they landed in a big pool of water, (because this is a story and nobody dies yet) that had been getting deeper and deeper through the past few years.

”Looks like we’re in the laboratory. Where Dr. Em Manual worked. Guess he’s Spanish,” Amethyst deduced.

“Over here,” someone whispered.

It was another stranger they found, like every chapter in this story. They find someone, the end.

“Who are you, lady?” Garnet muttered.

“I’m Yuki. The most depressed girl in my school I got expelled from,” Yuki sighed.

“Oh well, if it makes you feel better, I got expelled, too,” Garnet bragged.

She knew she never got expelled before, she just wanted to make Yuki feel better.

“Shut Up!” Yuki cried.

“What’s wrong with her?” Garnet whispered to Amethyst.

Amethyst shrugged.

“I just wanted to make a friend but you guys just make me feel worse!” Yuki wailed.

Yuki ran away in sadness. She banged her head off the wall, and cried. Garnet and Amethyst walked over.

“Stop,” Pearl suggested.

“I got this, you guys make her feel bad,”

“Okay, geez,” Amethyst and Garnet sassed.

Pearl walked over to Yuki, and patted her on the back.

“It’s okay, ignore them. They’re idiots,” Pearl cheered her up.

“Idiot, like me!” Yuki cried.

“Oh great, I made her feel worse.

There is just no way to cheer her up.

Everything makes her feel bad,” Pearl thought to herself.

She walked back over to Garnet and Amethyst.

“Is Scarlet alright?” she wondered.

“Well…” Garnet started.

Everything about Sunday screamed, “IT’S SPRINGTIME, EVERYBODY! SPRING CAME EARLY! DUST OFF THOSE BOOTY SHORTS!” (Or maybe that was just Henry screaming that.) The sky looked like it was colored by the purest blue Crayola crayon and the sun was straight out of a cartoon. It was warm enough to open the sunroof on my car, even.

And now, at the time of this writing, it’s 30-something degrees out with a layer of snow on the ground. Weather is so weird.

Henry had shit to do around the house, and nothing assures that the shit will get done more than me leaving him alone. You know I really wanted him to work on the kitchen (we’re* just doing minor cosmetic shit to it, like painting) when I tell Chooch that yes, we will go geocaching.

*(Lol, “we’re.” All I’ve done so far is pick out the paint!)

Honestly, I can’t find enough hateful words to properly illustrate how much I hate geocaching. But my damn kid loves it, so I thought maybe it could be a nice Mommy-Son day.

Nope.

Even when it’s at one of my favorite cemeteries?

Still nope.

I just hate it. The clues were for the birds. I slipped down a hill. I yelled a lot of things that probably left a lasting blemish on Chooch’s childhood.

After about 30 minutes of digging around the same tint area, I threw my arms up in the air and cried, “FUCK IT, I’M DONE.” And Chooch was like, “You have like no patience, OMG” and I said, “Let’s go for a walk around the cemetery” and he said, “Ow, but my legs are so tired. Walking is terrible” and I said, “Then we’ll get ice cream after” and he said “Fine.”

I should be a playwright.

One of my biggest downfalls is that I don’t spend enough time with Chooch, just the two of us. It’s mostly because I like that when Henry is with us, I won’t have to worry about anything. Or, you know, parent. So I’m trying to change that. I mean, we’ve been fine at the hockey games and we’ve managed to survive two concerts together without Henry’s supervision, so what’s a little Sunday stroll, right?

Except that I wasn’t paying attention when we left the cemetery and I ended up missing a turn or something and I knew where I was, but couldn’t think fast enough about how to get back on track. My mind always works against  me when it comes to directions. I have been to Homewood Cemetery a million zillion  times and even know at least 4 different ways to get there, but something broke down in my head when we left last Sunday, probably because Chooch was talking. Anyway, we ended up near Oh Yeah!, so it felt like kismet. We were originally just going to get ice cream in Brookline, but now a wrong turn put us right in the vicinity of one of our favorite ice cream places!

I was so fucking proud of myself!

Look what I did!!

Except it’s not there anymore. There Facebook page is rife with drama. There was some kind of scandal? I don’t know. But that place never served me a bad cone, and I had some pretty weird add-in combinations there.

So then we were lost again and I kept trying to make a left turn against traffic and that was stressing me out, while Chooch was looking up other ice cream places on Yelp and I snapped, “WE’LL JUST EAT ICE CREAM AT HOME BECAUSE FUCK THIS SHIT!” And he was all, in his best grown-up voice, “Would you just calm the hell down?” And I was like, “Son, that’s good advice. I will try to calm down.” And so he directed me to the Scoops that it’s in Bloomfield, the sister shop to the one down the street from us where we were originally going to go, and I was miraculously able to get a parking spot on the street and everything seemed to be going my way, until we got inside the super tiny shop and there was a group of 5 assholes standing there, taking up valuable real estate while eating their ice cream, and they stared at us while we looked at our choices. Meanwhile, some old broad in front of us ordered a large freeze, and did you know those things take like 10 MINUTES TO MAKE?! So we just stood there, while these assholes licked their cones and bore holes into us with their judgmental eyes, the old lady waited for her freeze, and a group of 4 young hooligans came in and tried to cut in front of us.

It was a really stressful experience. I  think Chooch felt pressured too, because when it was his turn to order, he couldn’t blurt it out fast enough. I paid for our cones and whisked Chooch out of the shop, where we ate our ice cream under the peace and wide-open space of the great outdoors. I couldn’t believe those assholes were standing in there like that. They weren’t waiting for anyone! They were just quietly eating their ice cream and stealing precious oxygen from the rest of us who hadn’t ordered yet. Way too many people for that tiny shop.

Ugh.

People.

I can’t believe I wasted so much time writing about this. I guess I was more mad than I thought, since it’s 6 days later and I’m actually rage-biting my lower lip right now.

I think I might need to take up kick-boxing again.

Chooch was adamant on having “Let’s Go Pens” sprinkles on his Moosetracks.

I yelled, “NO ICE CREAM IN MY CAR” so we casually strolled around Bloomfield until our cones were sufficiently masticated. We walked past many of the tree beds that my Law Firm crew helped mulch last year and I was sad, yet not surprised, to see that our hard work had since unraveled, and all the spots were covered with weeds and cigarette butts once again.

Aside from the geocaching, the getting lost, and the idiots breathing my air inside of Scoops, I had a nice afternoon with Chooch. He must have had a nice time too, because a little while after we came home, I found him in his room folding his clothes! NO ONE TOLD HIM TO DO THAT! In fact, no one has ever taught him to do that, either. He said he learned by watching the employees at Target and Kohls. Maybe I should try that since my version of “folding clothes” is “rolling them up and punching them into the drawer.”

And this is the end of my Sunday afternoon recap. Look for the stage version coming soon to a Walmart loading dock near you.

It’s not that Anne and her mother had a bad relationship. Mother cooked warm and hearty meals for Anne. Mother braided Anne’s hair just right for school photos. Mother took Anne to the zoo in the third grade and to the gyno in the tenth, after she found out Anne was promiscuous.

But there was something Mother would never talk about, and it drove Anne wild with curiosity.

June 5th, 1956

Diary, today I overheard Mother talking to that beastly Constance Huffington from down the street. Mrs. Huffington asked Mother when she is going to settle down again with a nice man. Mother got all choked up and said she’s not ready, not since the accident.

What accident, I wonder. Did she poop in her pants?

It wasn’t that Anne and her mother didn’t talk. Mother told Anne about the sales she read about in the weekly circular. Anne told Mother about gawky Penny Pisshawker and how she got chewing gum all caught up in her head gear. Mother told Anne to clean her room.

But Mother would always change the subject when Anne asked about the accident.

April 18th, 1960

Diary, Mother and I were at the department store yesterday and I was looking at the swimming suits. Mother started crying when I asked if she was going to buy one too. She said she hasn’t worn one since the accident! The accident! What accident??

But oh Diary, the swimsuit I bought is pink and blue and has the most darling bow which lies plumb against my tailbone and camouflages my sway-back.

It wasn’t that Anne’s childhood was defined by not having a father around. Mother would call up her brother for situations that required a man’s finesse. Like teaching Anne how to throw a baseball. Like putting together the dollhouse Anne got for her birthday. Like blacking the eyes of the boy who groped Anne on the bus.

But Mother would never talk about Anne’s father, and Anne didn’t remember ever knowing him.

January 31st, 1995

Diary, Freddie proposed to me tonight! Oh, it was beautiful. We were watching Romeo+Juliet and I nearly choked on the ring because that slick son of a bitch had hidden it in a jar of macadamia nuts! I said to him, “Baby, why would you do that? You know I chug these fuckers like it’s a frosted mug of lactation and I’m a nursing baby.” Then we had sex and spilled a box of wine all over Mother’s white shag. After she was done screaming at me about that, I waited for her to take a Valium before asking about Father. We had a huge argument and she was crying and pulling at her hair. I said that it’s only natural for a father to walk a daughter down the aisle and she was sputtering all sorts of nonsense.

But I swear I heard her say she hasn’t heard from him since the accident. WHAT FUCKING ACCIDENT.

It wasn’t that Anne was glad to see her Mother marinating in her own piss at the nursing home. Anne didn’t like that her Mother’s once-tanned skin had turned into a translucent sheath, scaly tracing paper revealing the blue and purple tubes snaking through her body. Anne didn’t like that her Mother had to push a button for a nurse to come help her take a dump. Anne didn’t like the fact that when it came down to it, she was the one that would have to pull Mother’s plug.

But maybe, if she was to be honest for a second, learning the truth about the accident would make that easier.

“Mother, please,” Anne pleaded, her fingers intertwined with her Mother’s near-skinless phalanges. “Tell me about the accident. I’m a grown woman now and you can trust me.”

Mother expelled a wad of mashed potatoes from her throat with one forceful cough. The unswallowed morsels splatted against the lampshade and hung there like maggots on shit. “You,” she wheezed, hacking up a tawny membrane of gooey phlegm for dessert. “You were the accident.”

[originally written 4-4-09. Happy Flashback Friday.]

After catching Frameworks open for United Nations during the summer of 2014, my heart was hooked like the lip of trout. They’ve got that emo revival sound that resonates with me, so I’d been keeping a watchful eye on this Florida bunch.  Finally, they announced a headlining tour with Donovan Wolfington, and I was on board. I didn’t even bother asking anyone to go with me. I’m over that hassle.

In exchange for not having to go, Henry gave me a free Lyft to the Smiling Moose on Sunday, and also an allowance to cover my ticket and cider. Clearly, Papa Tightwad was in a good mood, knowing he could go home and binge-watch How It’s Made in his underroos.

Before the show started, I chilled in the bar in the back of the room, drinking some outer space-priced pumpkin cider and being entertained by a pair of older Bosnian gentlemen who were apparently there to support one of the local bands but I couldn’t tell if they were being serious or not because my facetious meter has been damaged through years of hard use. In any case, I chugged my ritzy cider so that I could go closer to the stage. (All Ages show, yo.)

The first band was Curse Words. I felt drawn to them immediately. That sad boy emo gets me every last time, and I already can’t wait to see them again/stalk them all around the ‘Burgh. Our neighbors moved out so maybe I can get them to come over and play a house show, OMG.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

After their set, an influx of old people rushed the stage. Mom-types started skipping around, hugging teenage girls and thanking them for coming out, and it became clear that the entourage of the second band had arrived. It was adorable and fucking annoying simultaneously, but I’ll tell you what: I was buffeted by the comforting scent of freshly laundered sheets, hand sanitizer, and Werthers Originals, thanks to the grandparents closing in on me. This was a nice change from the usual stench of B.O. and farts that usually permeates the upstairs of the Smiling Moose.

The band of the hour was another local band called the Incandescence. I want to jump on board and tell you that I was blown away, but…I didn’t get it. Musically, they were all over the place and I understand that genres are binding, but in their case, it felt like they didn’t have an identity. Aside from having a super-charismatic drummer who reminded me so much of my old friend James Hosfield with long hair, I was pretty bored and disconnected. Plus, I was surrounded by all of these preppy girls who were clearly classmates of these guys (I couldn’t tell if the band was high school- or college-aged) who were totally clueless on how to act at a show and kept complaining that it was too loud.

STILL, I was happy to support them.

And then the whole place cleared out afterward.

#loner

Anyone who hates opening bands would be super pissed at a Smiling Moose show because it’s the openers that pack the place. It’s always a family affair at every show I’ve gone to there, little Billy’s band got their first real gig and the whole fucking family tree has to storm the venue. It’s actually super awesome to witness. I can’t imagine my family ever coming together to support me in something like that, so it gives me hope when I see Aunt Betty and Grandpa Walt cringing and beaming with pride at the same time. And this is why, even if the band isn’t my thing, I will still scream and clap alongside the people who are required to scream and clap.

Also, for the first half of these shows, they take the heat off me with their white hair and wrinkles and I don’t have to be That Lady Standing Alone who is either Someone’s Mom or Lost.

(In all honesty, the only time I ever got any weird looks was when I was the Young Girl Alone at the Boz Scaggs show.)

By the time Donovan Wolfington’s set started, there were only about 15 of us left. Like you couldn’t hang out for another hour, guys, really?

D.Wolf was super entertaining. I’ve never seen them live before but I was really looking forward to it. I will give most any band on Topshelf my full, undivided attention and these guys did not disappoint. They were pretty hilarious, which always makes me love bands even more.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

Finally, it was time for Frameworks. I wish I could properly explain what it is about this style of music, and this band in particular, that makes me weak in the knees. I tried to articulate it at work the other day, the whole screaming thing. Because I know, it’s a curious concept for a lot of people who think that it’s just screaming for the sake of screaming. Sure, there are definitely bands out there like that. But those aren’t the ones I like. I tried to get my work friends to believe that there are different types of screaming, but that was received by a collective “come the fuck on” look from all of them.

But it’s true! For instance, people assume that I must like death metal, because of the screaming.  But I don’t! I’m not a fan of that type of screaming, and it also has a lot to do with the music behind the screams.

“The kind of screaming I like is the emotional kind,” I said, attempting to delve into a lesson in emotional hardcore/Emo Revival, but if anyone had been taking me seriously before that point, I had definitely lost them with the “emotional” thing. And then somehow I heard myself casually admitting that I pretty much cry at the drop of a hat. “I started crying before the opening credits of Fuller House even started,” I laughed. “Like, Henry was still looking for it on Netflix and I started crying.”

“Oh my god,” Glenn muttered. “WHY?!”

I’M JUST REALLY FRAGILE AND SENTIMENTAL OK!??

But whatever. I laughed along with everyone because it was a pretty funny conversation for a Tuesday morning, but this really is something I take seriously. If I’m not at a show, I’m listening to music, and if I’m not listening to music, I’m reading about it. And somewhere in between, I’m watching music videos on YouTube. It really is practically my entire life, oh well. This music has been slowly suturing my heart for the last several years and I will keep going to these shows as long as they exist because it’s so much cheaper than therapy and anti-depressants.

There is just something so cathartic, standing feet away from the stage, while someone is shouting his words in your face.

I had been looking forward to this show ever since it was announced and it honestly didn’t disappoint. It was perfectly abrasive, beautifully raw, and the only way it could have been more intimate would have been if we were all sitting cross-legged on my bed.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

In between songs, one of the guitarists thanked everyone for staying after all of the “Church dwellers” left, which was an accurate assessment. Selfishly, I love these shows with sparse crowds because it’s so much more comfortable and relaxed, but it really sucks for the bands. Pittsburgh is so fucking backwards with some things. Get with it, Pittsburgh.

After the show, I mustered up the courage to talk to Luke, the singer. I felt so bad that my town didn’t show up for them (their other shows in bigger cities seemed to do well, big surprise) and I really wanted him to know that I appreciated them. During their set, Luke had mentioned that this was only their second time playing here, so I used that as my conversation starter.

“I was at that United Nations show two years ago, and you guys totally stole my heart,” I freakishly gushed. He put his hand over his heart and said that meant a lot, and then he formally introduced himself with a handshake. This is the part in every conversation with bands where I have no idea which route to take, so I always pull the ripcord and take the emergency exit while shouting, “OK THANKS HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU WERE GREAT BYE.”

Sigh. This part never gets easier for me.

Whenever I start to get pulled down into negativity’s undertow, I just have to look back on these moments and remember that I am living my life. No one is stopping me from enjoying the things I love. And I don’t mind being alone anymore, and my life is full of beautiful music and experiences because of that. Things are so much better now.

I think I shook for two whole days after this show. It was some kind of spiritual to-do, you guys.

They all stared in aw, as Penelope smiled and hopped around. “Wait we shouldn’t be happy, we should be mad at Penelope,” Amethyst remembered.

“Well actually Penelope was trying to help us,” Garnet implied.

“Uh huh. Sure,” Amethyst snapped.

They all stared down at Penelope, they then picked her up and walked away. They walked back to the trail to keep their adventure going. “So we’re about 10 minutes away from your house right, Amethyst?” Pearl asked.

“Well actually 10 minutes and 26 seconds.” Amethyst mimicked Garnet.

“Hey! Well actually we’re 10 minutes 23 seconds away now, so ha!” Garnet came-back.

“How bout’ you shut up!” Amethyst screamed.

“How bout’… NO!” Garnet squawked.

“Girls. Girls. Calm do-”

Garnet jumped Amethyst before Pearl could finish her sentence. Garnet started to punch Amethyst right in the cheek bone. It took about-

“7 minutes and 26 seconds before we finished fighting,” Garnet interrupted.

Shut up Garnet, I’m speaking as you can see. So as I was saying it took about-

“7 minutes and 37 seconds before we finished fighting,” Amethyst also interrupted.

Okay now shut up both of you.  It took about 7 HOURS, 2 minutes, and 45 seconds before they finished fighting. When they finished beating up each other, they kept walking, Penelope disappointed, Amethyst wounded, Garnet angry, Pearl proud. They walked past the Fairy Clubhouse. It was theirs but since half of them are angry at each other, they would burn it down.

“Okay, should we burn this down?” Pearl insisted.

“Well, why not.” Amethyst grinned.

Pearl had the lighter and looked at Scarlet.

“Hey Scarlet want to burn it down?” Pearl asked.

Scarlet shrugged and went up to grab the lighter. She lit it up, then started to cry. She walked away from the club house and threw the lighter and hit Garnet in the head. Garnet was asleep, then she woke up.

“Scarlet you’ve been awfully quite today what happened?” Pearl whispered to Scarlet.

“Well… I… am… SICK!” Scarlet cried.

“Oh-oh, sick by what?” Amethyst peeped.

… a moment of silence broke through, as the girls walked and stared at Scarlet. They had wide puppy eyes, like a 5 yr old would have on his face when he wants something.

“Well, I have leukemia. I will live,” Scarlet sighed.

“No you won’t! We need to get you a doctor!” Pearl cried.

“I’ll be fine, just.. calm down,” Scarlet insisted.

“No you won’t,” a familiar voice came in.

To Be Continued…

I’ve been stalling on this post because for once, words escape me.  

My friend Octavia is a creative genius. She works in various mediums and so much of her oeurve makes me think of Barb’s “functional fixedness” disorder, in which she cannot fathom that an object meant for one certain use can be used for something else.

I’d like to put her in a room with Octavia and watch her mind short-circuit, because Octavia excels at turning found objects into substantive works of art.

Octavia has a very thorough blog post explaining the thought process behind this project. Thank god she wrote that because I can barely muster more than *HEART EYES* and #blessed every time I sit down here to try and gather my thoughts. She really hit this one out of the park, for a sentimental sap like me. Because not only is this something I can fill with my own mementos, but she’s already included a veritable treasure trove of artifacts from one ISABEL STRICKLAND, some broad from Texas who has got to be dead by now.

A dresser of hers was acquired through an auction for Octavia, and the drawers were still full of Isabel’s stuff! What a jackpot!

A nod to my Vintage Snack Attack party!

I can’t wait to stuff this with photos and random road trip keepsakes like tourist trap ticket stubs and those dumb/awesome souvenir pennies. The idea of intermingling my own personal items into someone else’s narrative is really exciting to me, and also daunting. I know I’m going to over-think things, like “Is this the right placement?” or “Does this need more blood spatter?”

Speaking of blood spatter…Octavia thought of everything! This brought back fond memories of the fake journal I made for my serial killer-themed Halloween desk at work in 2011. (See also: when my co-workers learned a lot about me.)

Everything is assembled so purposefully for just the right subtle touch of creepiness. Imagining the work and mental brawn that went into the construction of this faux-heirloom makes me exhausted!

In the early years of my relationship with Henry, I went to some crafting event this broad Moira’s house in Greensburg. She was also very crafty, but not nearly as good as Octavia.

Anyway, one of the options for her craft night was to bring an old book to turn into a journal. Christmas was coming and I thought it would be a good opportunity to make something adorable and touching for Henry. So I grabbed an old book about Rasputin (because ROMANCE) and then sat around with a bunch of bitches who brought their patience and licenses to operate glue guns, none of which I had with me. Anyway, this journaling sesh had none of the intricacy as Octavia’s — we didn’t gut our books, but added shit to the pages already there, glued stacks of pages together in order to carve out little recessions in which to hide things, etc etc.

This whole process had a name. I want to say it was called book breaking or something? I don’t know, but it was a real thing where you took old books and repurposed them into some other kind of book and who the fuck knows. All I know is that I worked super hard on it and it added a metric ton (that’s a lot, right?) of stress into my life, only for Henry and I to have a huge fight which culminated in me tearing the book up in front of him before he even got to see it. I had all kinds of bullshit in there too, even A POEM.

A poem that I WROTE!

I mean, it was a stupid, tongue-in-cheek poem, but still. My temper knows no bounds.

All of this is to say that I have a very tiny inkling of the effort that had to have gone into this beautiful journal and I’m just speechless. Even Henry sat there and slowly thumbed his way through every page, pausing to read the CPS reports and making various grunts of approval for Octavia’s hard work. You guys, the clasp Octavia put on it is made from the strap of her FIRST ACCORDION.

I’m not worthy.

Amethyst didn’t need the stupid bandage anymore. She got the gem, which will help her survive with the fire ant bite.

*Wheeze Wheeze* the lady was having trouble breathing.

Thoughts were flying through Amethyst’s mind: Should she save her, and not be able to escape? Or should she leave her, and escape with Penelope? She had no clue.

“Oh! I got an Idea!” she thought. Before she could say what she was going to do the old lady had died of poison. She had really needed to work on choosing quicker. Well 2 people died. RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER! Good thing there are no cops around Wonderslate or else she would have been questioned about these murder incidents. “My god, Penelope did you see that?” Amethyst asked.

Penelope nodded.

They heard a voice.

“Well lets just… GO!” They ran from it. They did not need to witness another murder.

“Oh there you! Amethyst how you been?” One of Amethyst’s friends called out.

“Scarlet? Pearl? Garnet? Is it really you guys?!” Amethyst peeped.

“Well unless you’re dreamin’, of course we’re real!” Pearl punched Amethyst lightly on the shoulder. She’s known them since their Senior Year in High School.

“How you been?” Amethyst squawked.

“Well if getting a paycheck in the mail worth 100 faircoins (Their money currency) is what you call good, then no,” Pearl sighed.

“Yeah our life’s been rough, too.” Scarlet and Garnet jinxed.

“Jinx you owe me a fairda!” (their sodas) Garnet expressed. They stared at each other, then laughed!

They had a moment of silence for about 30 seconds.

“Well wanna help me take Penelope back to my place?” Amethyst broke the silence.

“Sure… Sure, Why not?” They coincidentally said together.

They all carried Penelope back to Amethyst’s place. They walked through a pitch black forest, which hadn’t been there before when Amethyst had walked down to get Penelope.

Then she realized. “We are going the complete wrong way. Turn around now!” Amethyst wailed.

They turned around looking straight into a pair of eyes.

“Well… Guess you finally found me. One of the murderers for the several murders that had happened in Wonderslate. So what are you going to do? Tell your mommies?!” he teased. “Ha Ha Ha Ha! Better think fast before I murder one of you. If you haven’t realized, you’re holding a murderer right now!”

They looked down at Penelope. Penelope stared deep into their eyes, expecting to paralyze one of them.

Amethyst grinned. Soon they all grinned, except the man, because they didn’t believe the man that one of the murderers is Penelope.

“Ha! Really?! Penelope, she’s just a little bunny. Well… maybe a little fluffy,” Amethyst grinned.

The man frowned, then laughed. “Well maybe you’re right. Penelope paralyze them!” the man hollered.

Soon a little bit after he fell to the ground paralyzed. Not expecting it, they hugged Penelope, then backed away.

“He’s right. She is a killer,” Pearl gasped. To Be Continued…