This post is full of pictures, so if you’re a member of the GET OVER IT camp, you are permitted to peace out now. :) I AM ACCOMMODATING EVEN IN MY EMOTIONAL STUPOR! Anyway, this is one of the walls in the den, featuring some framed baby prints of yours truly. Also my aunt Susie and some old people. The den is one of the only…how do you say…subdued rooms in the house. The wall paper in that room is textured, and I used to always scratch it with my nails, probably while watching HUNTER, who knows. I would be lying if I said I haven’t been sneaking in some gentle wall-scratches lately. Creature comforts, old habits, etc.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve pinched my fingers in that goddamn gate!

GIRRRRL, cover up.

Sharon was way into Cabbage Patch Kids in the 80s. She used to fly to Babyland, USA once a year to buy whatever those special ones were, I don’t know. I was never into it, even though she tried to get me to be. She bought me a preemie once (how weird is it now to think that you could get “premature” versions of Cabbage Patch Kids??) and I thanked her by repeatedly bashing its head off the road in front of my old house in South Park. (Sylvania Dr., holla!)

Henry found a drawer with a stash of Cabbage Patch Kids birth certificates the other day and just sighed.

When I was really young, the Christmas tree was in this room and we ate in the adjacent dining room. But then my grandma started inviting less people so we started having more informal Christmases on the porch.  I didn’t care where the tree was as long as there was a veritable toy store wrapped underneath it with MY NAME on it.

#COBWEBS

I’ve really been trying to take advantage of the situation by spending as much time over there as possible. Henry keeps saying that I’m too involved, too immersed, too obsessed…maybe the obsessed part is true, but I firmly believe that this is where I need to be right now, taking the time to go through the drawers and closets, remembering my old plastic bowling set that I used to play with on the indoor porch; the paper mache mail holder I made for my grandma (which is still intact 30+ years later!); the smell of the cedar closet where my old, baby fur coats still hang.

I gotta find that Bruce Willis cassette.

I am grateful for this time I was given, in spite of the circumstances. Plus, Corey and I collected a shitload of new hashtags that mean nothing to no one but crack us the fuck up.#SMELLMYGLOVE #POSTALBINSORGTFO #GOFUCKYOURSELF #DAWNSBLOCKOFCHEESE

Life, AMIRITE?!

But on a happier note, here are some things I’ve brought home and I promise to give them many more years of life.

My Aunt Sharon was apparently really into Magnum PI in the 80s and always had this padded Tom Selleck…art piece (?) hanging on her wall. Henry found it in a closet last weekend and I was like, “I HAVE TO HAVE THIS.” I mean, c’mon. First, Chooch was like, “This is hideous.” Then, Chooch was like, “Can we hang him in my room?”

“DO YOUR FUCKING HOMEWORK OR FACE THE WRATH OF THE ‘STACH, BOY!”

I promised Henry I wouldn’t take every single clown in the house even though he so very sweetly (and smartly) said he didn’t care either way, but there are several that I do want to keep because MEM’RIES.

LIGHT THE CORNERS OF MY MIND.

(This whole thing is bringing out my inner Old Person.)

And this beaut! I’m no doll expert, but Kara put on her Creepy Doll Investigator’s Hat, jammed a cigar in her mouth, and reported back that this is a Little Miss No Name doll, and that the ones with the tears are rare!

She fits in super well in my house.

More later!

“Who is it?” Haza called out.

“Penelope’s sister, Drew,”

“Though, I’m not a bunny,” Drew added on.

“I can still be her sister,” Drew finished.

Penelope glared at Drew, begging her to tell the truth. Drew glared back, shaking her head. She understood everything Penelope does.

“So, you’re her sister, eh? Haza questioned.

“Yup!” Drew answered.

“Interesting! Get out of my ship!” Haza shoved Drew out of the ship.

“…but I’m not a human either! I’m a, um”

Drew looked around the room, but got lured over to a familiar stench.

“What do you think you’re doing? I told you to leave!” Haza screeched.

But when Haza lunged towards Drew. Haza got knocked out and got bit in the neck, green blood flew down her spine and collar bone.

“Hmm, that’s interesting! Scarlet has been an alien all along,” Garnet grinned.

An alien guard overheard Garnet and held her by the neck against the wall.

“It’s HAZA!” he corrected angrily.

“Ok geez!” Garnet calmed him down.

“By the way, my name’s Bradley the Fox,” he introduced himself.

Meanwhile, while Drew is staring at Haza’s corpse, she just remembered about the stench. She walked over to the closet and the closet popped open. Two hostages with their hands tied, fell out. Not dead, but knocked out. They had large bruises at the top of their head, and a little blood was dripping from their bruises.

“Mom, Dad?” Drew’s voice got lower, into baritone.

Her left eye twitched, her eyes became bloodshot red. Her head turned backwards and faced the aliens.

“Oh yeah! I am a crazy psychopath!” Drew remembered.

“O’ crap. It’s the crazy killer “11 o’ clock News” was talking about on Friday the 13th!” a guard lost out of his mind shouted out.

The aliens darted toward the sliding door. The door was jammed, a perfect opportunity for Drew to punish them. Penelope hopped high up onto Drew’s head giving the aliens an opportunity to escape. Bradley the fox dropped Garnet, and turned towards Drew, Penelope hopped off Drew’s head, and Bradley uncovered his buff and cracked his knuckles, but then cracked his whole body turning to have a flexibility like rubber.

“Don’t you mess with my aliens!” Bradley shouted walking closer and closer to Drew.

Having Drew Walden and Penelope Ann Killer around has definitely provided much needed entertainment. I mean, making fun of Henry is a pretty great passer of time, but even that game needs a rest now and then.

Anyway, I guess they are about 6 months old now and still acting like jerky kittens—don’t ever change, cats. Except when it comes to my succulents. PLEASE LOSE INTEREST STAT.

Here we have Drew spying on Hot Naybor Chris from Chooch’s window. Blog, did I tell you that HNC came over on Easter, shortly after we returned home from Lancaster, with two bushels of bananas for us? And then he asked me if we needed break too, and I was like, “Um…

you should ask Henry?” So then Henry came home from the store and I said, “Chris has bread that he wants to unload on us” and Henry got this huge smile on his face and cheerfully cried, “I’LL GO OUT AND FIND HIM, THANKS!” and then did this dorky “Oh, Chris” head shake. Needless to say, he came back with like 5 loaves of varying types of bread. I have no idea why or how Chris comes upon all this extraneous bread that he cannot use for himself, but it’s really good bread and not like some stale loaves he dumpster dove for or anything shady like that. Come on, HNC would never give us bunk bread.

Henry told me why/how this whole bread phenomenon came to be, but I quit listening because I can only handle so much of Henry’s informational tone.

Turns out HNC delivered to us a blessing, because the next day, I would wake up with a cold and no desire to eat anything other than a slice of one of the extra-grainy, nutty, super wholesome loaves he gifted upon us, and then also for the next 5 days following thanks to #stress and #trauma. THAT BREAD WAS ALL I HAD!

This concludes the Bread Interlude portion of this post. Thanks for LETTING ME SHARE.
  

They get along much better than Marcy and Speck ever did! I mean, they definitely love to rough house (I’m officially my dad) with each other, but LOOK AT THEM NAPPING TOGETHER!

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Legit cat naps. The cats are exhausted from a long morning of destroying anything that has any ounce of sentiment to me. And Henry is exhausted from dealing with the children he works with (ACTUALLY, NO, I AM NOT REFERRING TO CHOOCH AND MYSELF, THANKS).

Chooch posted this one on Instagram with the caption “dat ass doe” and thought he was soooooo cool.  And I was like whatever I’ve been saying that way longer than you.

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One of my friends saw this video and acted sad about the fact that my cats must be bored, because we clearly do not pay enough attention to them, I guess.  HILAR. Have you met Chooch!? Sometimes these cats are like, “PLEASE JUST PRETEND LIKE WE’RE NOT HERE. IT’S FINE. REALLY.”

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Perched on a sonic stack of 80s nostalgia.

SPEAKING OF 80s NOSTALGIA. New tangent alert!: Henry and I watched the CNN series “The Eighties” Saturday night because we’re so fucking wild; it was the episode about 80s television, and I got so fucking emotional that I honestly thought I was going to hurt myself. I miss it all so much and wish I could relive the 80s over and over because it was the best times for me.

The nineties sucked for me (early 90s especially). But the 80s. GIMME.

I even miss the way newscasters spoke back then! All robotic and dry enunciation.

Full disclosure, I’m in full-fledged Living In the Past Mode these last few weeks. It’s kind of sickening and I sort of feel like some type of creature is feeding on me from the inside. It’s just this thing with me, I guess.

Like, let me feel all of the pain I can possible stand all at once, like floating in a tub of water and electrocuting myself in increments, get it the fuck out of my system, and then I can go back to living the life of Present Day Erin. WOOOOO!

It’s like the time my friend Christy and I were hanging out one year on New Year’s Eve in high school and I had just broken up with my TRU LUV. Instead of trying to buck up and enjoy the night, I listened to the SAME FUCKING SONG* on repeat until Christy was like, “Stop before I leave and then you have even less friends!!”

*(THIS LOVE IS FOREVER BY HOWARD HEWETT. OMG OW.)

BONUS CAT: This stray has been lurking around my Pappap’s house (because my aunt had clearly been feeding her), so every time I go over—i.e. everyday because this is my new life—I have to first run around calling out, “HERE KITTY KITTY” and then when she emerges from the shrubs and gives me that ice-cold glare, I psychotically whisper, “I love you.” It’s like the ghost of Marcy boring into my soul.

If I get too close to her, she’ll scurry off, but then she’ll stop and toss me this irritated look over her shoulder, like, “Are you coming or what?” SHE IS LIKE MY OWN PERSONAL WHITE RABBIT, YOU GUYS. I think she might be trying to lure me into a ditch though.

Henry said I can 100% not bring her home. :(

  
Thanks for the feel-good moment, Time Hop. This was right up there with the time I figured out how to return a DVD to Redbox ALL ON MY OWN after realizing it wasn’t working because the DVD wasn’t in the case. DEDUCTIVE REASONING. 

Maybe tomorrow I will have the energy to piece together words that aren’t all DOOM & GLOOM*, like words that tell the story of the trolley shuttle I’ve had to endure.  

*(I swear there isn’t a funeral dirge announcing my entrance through every door. I wish!)

Trying to spend as much time there as possible, which I’m sure is hurting my heart more than helping. Henry keeps saying annoying things like, “You need to pull back a little” and “How about taking break?” and I’m like HOW ABOUT YOU FUCK YOURSELF.  I just can’t stay away knowing that one day it will be gone, and with it the hugest piece of my childhood, so this is kind of like a time capsule for me.

I was in the house alone the other night and it was extremely scary, which made me sad because I’ve never been scared there before. But at the same time, I was kind of hoping something would happen. Some kind of contact, or sign. I KNOW: when you want something to happen, it won’t.

Chooch asked, “What is this, like a really old cell phone or something?”

He made up a song about Satan, and the smile on his face. Um…

There are so many layers to what is happening right now, and this is just one. In a way, it feels like I’m losing my Pappap all over again.

In lighter news though, I found out today that someone in that house was a HUGE Gino Vannelli fan. So many Gino records! Sometimes I listen to “Living Inside Myself” when I want to make myself cry. Which is often, because I am fucked up and clearly thrive on salty wets.

   
Chooch wanted to recreate this photo I took of Corey in 2008. I had to use my iPhone and couldn’t remember offhand exactly how the original was framed, but Chooch was pretty happy with the result. He loves to be like his Uncle CORCOR.*

*So annoying after he says it 87 times a minute when Corey is around 

I asked Chooch last night what makes him happy. Without so much as a pause to consider, he said, “Going to concerts.”

Good thing I snagged us two tickets to see Pierce the Veil perform their soon-to-be-released new album in its entirety at the House of Blues in Cleveland!

It’s the best feeling in the world to be able to go to shows with my kid. I hope that one day when he’s older, these will be some of the best memories for him, the things he loves to tell his friends about. How his first concert was Pierce the Veil when he was 6. How he started going to Warped Tour when he was 7. How he met his musical idol Christofer Drew backstage at the Grog Shop in Cleveland. His Emarosa connection. His obsession with The Summer Set’s lyrics. And I hope that when things get rough for him, music will help soothe him like it helps me. I keep telling Henry, “Bled Fest and Warped Tour will help me. I just need to get through this, and then Bled Fest and Warped Tour. BLED FEST AND WARPED TOUR, HENRY.”

And because I’m in a very TREAT YO’SELF state of mind, I also got myself a ticket to see John Carpenter in July because the Halloween theme, you guys. The fucking Halloween theme.

I DO WHAT I WANT AND I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK.

And now it’s time for Daily Cry. Bled Fest and Warped Tour need to get here quick.

My music obsession was definitely sculpted and honed in my grandparents’ house. I made my first mixtape there using a Fisher Price tape recorder; it had a lot of family conversations that I captured without permission and Rockwell’s “Somebody’s Watching Me” which I recorded off the music video that was playing on the TV. I’d eat my grilled cheese at the kitchen counter to a soft rock soundtrack wafting out of a stereo kept tucked away in a cabinet behind me. My friend Amy and I played on the enclosed porch a lot, where I would often play a BRUCE WILLIS cassette that had his cover of “Under the Boardwalk” on it and my god was that song THE FUCKING SHIT.

But when I think about my romance with music in the 80s, the distinct memory of sitting on the floor of the game room, playing song after song on the jukebox,  always comes to mind.

SHE BOP!

LUCKY STAR!

SAY SAY SAY!

But the one that stands out the most is Phil Collins and Genesis. My love for Phil is unabashed. I’ve always been open about it too, even in high school when I went to see him at the Civic Arena and I gave no fucks about everyone knowing. I decided to torture myself the other night, so on my drive home I put on “Tonight, Tonight, Tonight” and just fucking lost it, but it felt really good to get it all out. I was a little girl again, sitting on that game room floor, playing my favorite songs over and over again.

Seriously, this song is everything. Whatever that means.

There was also a jukebox in the other game room at their house, but that one played “old people” music and I didn’t like it.

Music is the best damn time capsule. Sometimes I find myself getting a little too dead on the inside and all it takes is one song to bring back the feels. My dad had a jukebox too, in his garage, but that one had of 90s jams on it. I used to play Toad the Wet Sprocket over and over while hitting a tennis ball off the garage door. But it never felt the same as that jukebox in the game room.

The good jukebox. Not the old people jukebox.

My mom is all, “Why don’t you guys take the jukebox?” and I’m like, “ARE YOU TRYING TO MURDER ME WITH MEMORIES?”

There’s no real point to this other than I love jukeboxes, I’m so goddamn tired, and I really fucking miss my Pappap.

Anyway. This song is relevant to my life right now because GET ME OUT OF HERE.

Lately I’ve been thinking about how much I’ve changed since I was in my 20s. Back then, any little thing that went wrong in my life felt like the fucking sky was falling on me. Don’t get me wrong though: lately my answer to “How are you?” is a very succinct SHITTY.

The only way I survive is to constantly remind myself that in the midst of all the muck and mess, there are still things to be happy about. We can’t always be in a great mood, or dodge drama, but we can always try to have some things on the periphery that help keep us afloat. You know? Should I write that self-book help or naw?

Anyway, here are my current life rafts, if you will.

1. ICE CREAM DATES WITH GOOD PEOPLE
   

We met up with Chris and Monica last week for some Sarris sundaes. That was my dinner, and I was OK with it. Of course, Chooch and I didn’t even close to finishing our sundaes, so Henry had to eat them. Monica said, “I don’t even know why you bother ordering anything for yourself, Henry” and he just sighed. This is your life, Henry; just accept it. Some of Chris’s family was also there; Chronica said they were shocked at how well-behaved they were being and then Monica deduced it must have been because they hate Henry. I agreed! Henry looks so mean when you don’t know him.

Chooch’s favorite part was when he “finally” got to have his picture taken with this stuffed bear.

MORE ICE CREAM SOON, YOU GUYS!

2. NEW THREADS FOR TRUDY

Some broad was selling this vintage clown vest on Instagram and I was so sad when she described it as being perfect for a child, because I was hoping to wear this to work and just slowly walk back and forth past Wendy’s office because she loves clowns so much. But then I was like, “Duh, this would probably fit Trudy. Her boobs aren’t that big!” And that is how Trudy went from nude to dude nice clown vest.

3. CAT COUCH

Every single time Henry sits down…

4. GIGGLING OVER REPUBLICAN MEETINGS AT ITALIAN RESTAURANTS

Henry was all, “It’s really not that funny” but I was crying into my rigatoni, that’s how hard I was laughing.

5. GETTING STOKED ON WARPED TOUR!

The line-up was announced two weeks ago and I AM READY FOR JULY. Here’s a picture of Chooch checking out the line-up, and can I just say I love that I have a kid who “checks out line-ups”?! (Emarosa FTW, though. So glad they’re back again!)

6. BRINGING HOME PIECES OF THE BELOVED CLOWN ROOM

One day, I will have my own space to keep alive the spirit of my grandma’s clown room. There is such a big chunk of my heart ground into that room. Instead of being sad, I am pretending that this Red Skelton painting is something of a portal to my childhood, back when I used to sit on the floor of the clown room, listening to Frank Zappa records. Is it any wonder I am the way I am?

And also this beauty that my grandma promised me I could have, and now here it is, and I don’t know how to feel really, but in the spirit of this HAPPY BLOG POST, we’ll go with HAPPY:

Henry has to re-wire it before we can hang it in our bedroom.

7. INSPO FOR MY NEXT PARTY, LOL

Get stoked, Henry. Also, get some joint cream, because you’ve got lots of food-carving to do.

8. NEW COFFEE FLAVORS

In an effort to be normal, I went to Nicholas on my break to restock my coffee supply. The orange is way orangier than I imagined and I love it so hard. The Rainforest Crunch is OK.  Someone is getting an Erin’s Lunch Break post card about this. (Also, whoever sent me the postcard with the Pee Wee/Texas reference, THANK YOU! Totally made my day!)

Other than that, I’m wearing my tunnel vision glasses, relying on humor, exploring the past, and doing LOTS of emphatic screaming while watching Pens games. We’re going on vacation at the end of the month and lord knows I need it.

After years of not being inside of my Pappap’s house, I’ve been over there every day since Wednesday. My brother Corey and I were standing in one of the game rooms when we spotted this crazy ornamental box thing on a fireplace mantel.

“Oh my god, that looks like it belongs in your house!” Corey said.

I asked him if it would be weird if I took it and he was just like, no don’t be dumb. So I did. Because it calling to me. 

I started rooting through it later that night and it’s mostly full of old curlers, Bobby pins, matchbooks, receipts (mostly Sharon’s—things like dry cleaning, etc) but there was also a doctors appointment card in there with my birth dad’s name on it, which was kind of jarring to see.

We were over there again yesterday and uncovered a photo album in the living room. When I was little, I was OBSESSED with paging through tomes and tomes of photos.

I loved asking my grandma, “And who is this? And this?” But I had never seen this photo album before in my life. It appears that it belongs to my Aunt Sharon and it’s full of Polaroids from a party she must have had there in the 70s. At first, it made me feel so depressed, but then Corey admitted that seeing pictures of the house being so alive made him feel happy. And he’s right. The party years were over by the time I came onto the scene, but I used to hear stories about the epic parties held in that house, and it was pretty awesome to see pictures of Sharon looking so happy, hosting a party for her friends. There’s even a photo of her with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, and we never knew she ever smoked!

I feel like my grandparents must have been on vacation at this time because I have a hard time believing my grandma was OK with randoms traipsing through her master bathroom, lol.

Anyway, in one of the photos, that box is sitting on a table in the game room!!!!

I’ve never noticed this thing before in my life, and now it’s punching me in the face twice in 4 days.

My grandma used to babysit me when I was super little. My friend Amy’s grandparents lived next door, so she would always come over and we would spend a ton of time in that game room playing at the bar. One of the waitresses at Blue Flame had given me an order pad thing and we would use that to take each other’s bar orders, because that’s what 5-year-olds do when their playroom is essentially an adult’s playroom. We’d go back and forth between that and the slot machines.

And in high school, this is where L.A.M.E. had all of their “meetings” and where we would film a lot of our English class videos. Yet I don’t even recall seeing that box. It’s so bizarre to me!

So many puzzle pieces.

In an effort to do something normal, I went to Journeys yesterday to buy some new TOMS. Henry and I weren’t even all the way into the store yet before a young salesguy was firing off apathetic scene kid salutations at us. I was annoyed at first, because everything annoys me anymore, but then he came over while I was examining the TOMS situation, and I mumbled something about not wanting a white pair because I planned to wearing them outside a lot, like to Warped Tour.

“You know we sponsor Warped,” he casually said as we rooted through the TOMS table together. I actually did know this but I still quietly stood there and listened as he told me that he’s actually in a competition right now to get sent to Warped and run the tent.

“What’s it based on, sales?”  I asked.

“Well, right now it’s socks actually. We’re being challenged to sell the most socks.”

This is when I noticed that he kind of resembled Tilian Pearson from Dance Gavin Dance and that made me want him to win. So I picked out of a pair of pink TOMS and told him to throw in some low-cut socks too because Chooch’s current sock stash have the texture of paper mache. I mean, these fucking foot swathes can stand up on their own, even when washed.

And the stench is forever.

While he was ringing me up, he asked for my email address.

“But Gavin Can’t Dance,” I started to say, and he interrupted me.

“Is that a Dance Gavin Dance reference?

They’re my favorite band!” He gushed, his bored vocal cadence getting a small shot of life.

“It is,” sighed his co-worker who had just emerged from the back.

“SAME!” I cried happily because THIS NEVER HAPPENS. “Did you go to their 10-Year Anniversary tour?”

“No,” he said sadly. “My girlfriend at the time had a dance competition and I had to go to that, but Dane next door at Game Stop went to the Columbus show.” I looked at Henry and tried to imagine choosing something he was doing over seeing Dance Gavin Dance, and I just laughed a lot on the inside.

I told him that Henry and I went to the Cleveland show and he was all, “WAS IT AMAZING?! DID JONNY AND KURT SING TOO?!” And then we expressed mutual sadness over Kurt Travis leaving A Lot Like Birds and I told him and his co-worker who was still standing there about the Kurt Travis house show I went to in Oakland last summer and how I had an easy 15 years on everyone there and the co-worker guy was like, “Hey, music has no age limits” and I seriously considered quitting my job and applying at Journeys.

MY PEOPLE.

I tentatively asked my new bro (Sam, in case you care) his thoughts on Emarosa, because oftentimes DGD fans are still rabid supporters of Jonny Craig.

“I LOVE THEM! And Bradley is just amazing as their singer. I actually really like Versus a lot. Have you heard their Reimagined album?”

I mean, DUH. So we talked about how fantastic Bradley is and my heart felt like it was beating again for the first time since Wednesday morning.

“Honestly, I used to really like Jonny Craig, but if you ask me, he can only sing in the key of A, and he tries way too hard anymore. I honestly do not like Slaves at all,” Sam said, handing me my bag while his co-worker and I both vehemently agreed with his assessment. (I was still a fan of Jonny when he started Slaves and even then I was like, “Ew, this is not good at all.” It makes it easier to not support him anymore, that’s for sure.)

“I was a huge Jonny Craig fan-girl for years and years, but I finally divorced that whole scene,” I said, and we all laughed about that together and I gave Henry this frantic look that screamed, “DO WE HAVE TO LEAVE SO SOON? CAN’T YOU PRETEND LIKE YOU WANT TO TRY ON 18 PAIRS OF VANS?!”

As we turned to leave, Sam said it was always great to meet another Dance Gavin Dance fan and that if I needed anything, come back and ask for him. I thanked him and as we walked back out to the car, I was like, “WAIT WHAT DID HE MEAN BY ANYTHING?!”

His favorite DGD songs are Carl Barker and Tree Village, in case you were wondering.

You know you realllly love a band when you road trip 4 hours to  see them play at a show they’re not even headlining.

And that’s usually pretty annoying for Henry, but the difference this time is that my whole family loves Emarosa so very much. So when this tour was announced and I declared we had to go, especially since the Lancaster date was a Saturday, Henry didn’t have his laminated laundry list of reasons to say no.

A few weeks ago, I realized it was Easter weekend that we’d be there and because I’m such a logical thinker, I decided it was imperative to make the band an Easter basket. I thought Henry would frown, but he was all about it and dare I say ALMOST EXCITED to go to various local breweries to select some some good Pittsburgh craft beer to tuck in there among the Sarris candy and bags of Pittsburgh Popcorn.

Everyone was like, “HOW WILL YOU GET IT TO THEM?!” and I was mildly worried that there was a possibility we wouldn’t get a chance to, but because Chooch was involved, everything fell into place.

Sometimes, Chooch is key.

But that comes later!

Henry titled this “Two Idiots In a Mirror.”

After pissing around in our hotel room and making Henry hate us for about an hour, we departed for the Chameleon Club in downtown Lancaster. Three years and one day ago to the date, we took Chooch to his very first concert there: Pierce the Veil. Henry tweeted something about it and tagged Emarosa, which I didn’t even think he knew how to do.

(Also, I only know this because Henry showed me that Emarosa liked it; I had previously unfriended Henry from every social media platform a few days prior to this because I was throwing one of my fits.)

We got there about 30 minutes before doors opened and we weren’t too far back in the line, but then some guy came out and started screaming about a Will Call line forming to the left, and our tickets were Will Call, much to Henry’s chagrin.

“Why wouldn’t you just print them at home!?” he argued, and I explained in my patented calm manner that it was because I bought the tickets with not enough time to have them mailed to us, and I wanted real,tangible tickets so I chose Will Call. SO STFU AND DO IT YOURSELF NEXT TIME. Anyway, the Will Call line only had 8 people in it, as opposed to the 75+ people who we had previously been standing behind, and once the doors opened and we got our tickets, we got to walk right in instead of going to the very back of the other line. (I mean, after we got stuck behind some idiot getting thrown out for having a fake ID. The security guard kept apologizing to us for that holding up the line and I was like, “NO WAY THAT WAS EXCITING!” He just laughed but I MEANT IT.)

What this means is that since we were one of the first people inside, we got a prime spot in an elevated bar section behind the sound guy, so Chooch was able to not only see the stage perfectly, but we didn’t have to worry about him getting crushed down on the floor. And he got to sit on a stool. If you know Chooch and his OMG SUCH FATIGUED LEGS, then you know he was in heaven. Plus, Chameleon Club has a snack bar so he got to eat pizza. This venue was made with the Chooches of the world in mind. Clearly.

This was when we first walked in, but it filled up super quickly. People in Lancaster actually come out for all of the bands, unlike in Pittsburgh when the venue doesn’t become packed until the headliner comes on. (Unless the show is at the Smiling Moose.)

Sitting on his stool, all relaxed.

The first band was Rarity from Canada. Henry’s reaction was “No.” I didn’t mind them. It was basically just pop punk but then things got weird at the end and I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or if the singer had legitimately snapped and was going to start shooting everyone. The music got all drone-y and he just kept screaming, “FUCKING SING” or something; my mind has blocked it out in order to protect me, I think. I don’t know if it was just me, but it felt super creepy and CHILLING.

Henry said it was probably just me.

I am pretty paranoid.

Young Music Critic.

After their set ended, Bradley walked in from the back of the stage area. Chooch was all, “BRADLEY! BRADLEY!” but he didn’t hear and kept walking, so Chooch was like scrambling down from his stool in order to chase him. Henry was like, “I guess I should be a father and follow him.” So the two of them set off for the merch area, which is where Bradley was headed, and I got stuck behind saving King Chooch’s Concert Throne. Henry said Chooch was all confident and rearin’ to go until he got near Bradley and then turned shy and star-struck. “Sort of like you,” Henry muttered.

I just asked Chooch to tell me exactly how the next part happened, and he’s telling me while playing some video game and also arguing with Henry, so this is going to be a very crudely pieced-together puzzle. Evidently, he and Henry walked over to the merch table and before Chooch could even say anything, Bradley saw him and gave him a hug. Henry used this opportunity to tell him that we had something for the band, so that took a lot of pressure off me. Because in the back of my mind, I was like, “WHAT IF WE DON’T GET TO SEE THEM AFTER AND THIS SAD EASTER BASKET WAS ALL FOR NAUGHT?!” I’m definitely at that point in my life where I am no longer mistaken for a groupie but a concerned band mom. I JUST WANT TO MAKE SURE THEY’RE EATING! And maybe some of them don’t care, but it made me sad to think of them being away from their family on Easter. I don’t know. I’m soft now. The thirties are ruining me.

Bradley said he knew we were there because he saw Henry’s dumb tweet (probably only the third tweet he’s had since 2011) and then, because he loves to fuck with Chooch, told him he wasn’t going to be able to sing that night because he wasn’t feeling well. When they came back to me, Chooch’s face was all red and he was giggling deliriously. Any one who can make my kid speechless deserves a medal!

The next band was Cold Rain.

“Bradley said they’re from Japan,” Henry casually reported, as if he wasn’t just exploding with joy that he had intel on a band which was provided to him by the singer of another band. STFU Henry.

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In a rare turn of events, all three of us liked them and Henry was happy to buy their CD (and Chooch was disappointed that they didn’t have vinyl; my budding record snob!).

AND THEN FINALLY EMAROSA. YOU GUYS OMG OMG OMG YOU GUYS. OK, breathe Erin. Quit with the CAPSLOCK, Erin. Act your age, Erin. (<—-LOL4EVER.) In all honesty, do I really need to pound out words about how great this band is? And what a major fucking upgrade Bradley Walden is not only just a vocalist, but a performer? This man puts certain ex-Emarosa singers to shame. And even if I didn’t have such ill feelings toward that person, I would still make the same declaration.

Here’s a little video collage, and in true Erin fashion, I can never stick to one orientation. Landscape! Portrait! Landscape! My future as a videographer is grim.

And here is the current touring guitarist being carried through the crowd on Bradley’s back. Because these are things that Bradley does. I love that he spends more time in the crowd, surrounded by fans and people who may have never heard of Emarosa before but are now definitely fans because how can you stand there and not get swept up in the frenetic energy and hysteric excitement!? Even Henry SMILES while watching them. And believe me, that never used to be the case when someone else was fronting the band. (No offense to the rest of Emarosa! Henry just couldn’t see past the disgust he felt for that guy.)

But the highlight of the night was when Bradley spotted Chooch from the stage. He pointed at him and waved in the middle of a song and Chooch’s face was going to split in half from grinning so hard. And when Bradley jumped off the stage right after, I didn’t think anything of it, figured he was just going to bring back the “house show” feel again, except that he kept pushing through the crowd until he was standing right next to the boxed in area where we were, and the next thing I knew, he was telling Henry to put Chooch on his shoulders, and then this happened:

WHAAAAAAT. Chooch was on a fucking high, man. Right after, some girl came over and was like, “Hey buddy! Is this your first show?” Chooch told her no, and she was like, “That’s awesome! You’ve got amazing parents!” and I was like YEAH HE DOES!! Don’t you forget that, sonny boy.

Fuck, I love you, Emarosa. They played a new song too and now I am even more stoked for the new record, hurry!!

Next was Being As An Ocean. I loved them but Chooch was like “Eh” because he saw who he came to see and nothing was going to top that. I’m sure his mind was still reeling; how do you focus after something that monumental happens to you at a show!?

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Chooch did cheer though when the screamer got up on their soapbox and started ranting about not wanting a racist running the country. I love when bands use their voices to make a difference.

Right after their set, we went to the merch area to get some new Emarosa shirts. While I was trying to decide what to get, someone came up behind me and put their hands over my eyes. My STRANGER DANGER alarm went off immediately because I DON’T KNOW ANYONE IN LANCASTER. Except for the Dutch Haven people….

But it was Bradley! OMG I just love him. I told him we had something for him and he said that now would be a good time to do that thing because he had to give a vocal lesson during Silverstein’s set and honestly, Chooch wasn’t going to last any longer and had already expressed no desire to stay for their set (UGH CHOOCH). And honestly, we were only there for Emarosa anyway!

So Bradley followed us to our car and while he and Henry talked casually, I was like, in my head, going “OMGOMGOMG DON’T BE AN IDIOT, ERIN” and somehow I found the restraint to speak to him like an actual person. Henry told me later that I was “getting better” at it.  I remembered that he liked Carly Rae Jepsen so I told him that Chooch and I had just seen her and then we gushed about how amazing and perfect she is and I yelled, “SHE MAKES ME WANT TO ROLLER SKATE!” and it was in my normal “I’m talking to an actual friend” voice so thank you, CRJ, for allowing my real personality to finally come out in front of someone in a band! THAT NEVER HAPPENS. BECAUSE I AM 16 AND FOREVER STARSTRUCK.

And you guys, he was genuinely stoked over the Easter basket.

“It’s for the whole band,” I said.

“No it’s not. This is just mine. I’m not sharing with them,” he joked as he held it close to his chest. He went to put it in their van, which Henry had conveniently parked two spaces away from, and then mimicked Chooch by spinning in circles on his way back over to us. We continued to chat with him on that empty sidewalk in Lancaster until he finally had to say goodbye and go give his vocal lesson (which I still want Chooch to do but he’s too shy!). Before we left, he told me to get in touch with him before the Pittsburgh Warped Tour date and he’d put us on the list and I was like, “OMFG RLY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?” because the fan girl can only be sedated for so long. I didn’t make him this basket because I expected anything in return, I made it because that band, especially now that he’s in it, means so much to me and Chooch. I just wanted to give them something to show them how much we appreciate their music.

It is just really gratifying to have stuck by a band’s side for all of these years and then be rewarded with such beauty. It’s not really a secret that I have been going through some majorly traumatic shit this week, and I have been listening to their Versus record almost exclusively because it is all I have to soothe the hurt right now. If you have the chance to go see them, or even just a moment to check them out on Spotify if you’ve never heard of them, please do it. Emarosa for fucking ever.