Love this band, love this song, love this video. 10/10. 

(I guess you could consider this a “GREETINGS FROM ERIN’S LUNCH BREAK” since I’m on my late shift break and the song is called POSTCARD. God, will the wonders ever cease over here at OHE.)

(Also, I ran out of people to send lunch break post cards to so if you want one, holler at me in the comments.)

With the exception of Warped Tour, Henry hasn’t gone to a show with me since JUNE. While I’m mostly ok with being a loner these days, it’s still nice to have the big dum dum with me so I told him he was going and he answered with a sigh that could be heard around the ‘Burgh.

I woke up Monday morning feeling positively giddy at the prospect of Henry going to see Sianvar with me after work. Sometimes I kind of enjoy his company, I guess, I don’t know. Stop looking at me like that.

As the door guy was putting my rubber ducky wristband on me, I dorkily cried, “Were you at the John Carpenter show?!”

He looked taken aback but then smiled and said that he was.

“I knew that was you!” I said. “I couldn’t imagine where I knew you from but then I realized it was from here.” I mean, god knows how many wristbands he’s applied to my arm.

So then we talked about how great that show was and Henry was all, “WHAT WERE YOU TALKING ABOUT I’M A JEALOUS BOYFRIEND” after I rejoined him.

God Henry. Maybe if you wouldn’t send me off into the wild without a chaperone, these connections wouldn’t happen.

We had some time to have a drink in the back of the room, where we talked about the OLYMPICS with the bartender. There a million reasons why I absolutely love going to shows at the Smiling Moose but a big one is that the bartenders there are so FUCKING NICE. I’m not a big bar-talker, but any time I have gone there, I have engaged in the most pleasant conversations with the girls behind the bar. The bartenders at the Altar Bar were absolute assholes and that was one of the reasons I didn’t give a fuck when that venue closed. Smiling Moose forever!

While we were leaning against the bar with our drinks, some older man with a cane came limping toward us and said, “Sup crew?”

I was so fucking excited at the prospect of being in someone’s crew that I way too happily exclaimed, “Hi!”

He looked at me weird and then repeated what he said, which was actually, “Restroom?”

:(

I pointed the way and the bartender laughed. “It’s because you guys look like you know what you’re doing!”

I mean, duh. Don’t ask me for directions to the restroom at work, but if we’re at any music venue in the city, I can draw you a map on your palm with my eyes closed.

Meanwhile, the first band had started playing and I was s-s-s-stoked because it was one of my favorite local bands, False Accusations! Henry was like, “Oh boy” as soon as he recognized them. I chugged my Ace, slammed down my empty glass, and left Henry at the bar in favor for a spot near the stage.

THE SCREAMER WAS WEARING AN ALEXISONFIRE SHIRT, WOOOOO!!

https://www.instagram.com/p/BJO7nLfAFHk/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

Henry joined me just in time to put his hand on my shoulder and gently pull me out of the way before I got cold-cocked with the neck of a guitar. Guys, I love your band but I’ve got some brittle bones! Go easy on this old broad.

These are the times when Henry wishes I liked Coldplay or Of Monsters and Men like other ladies my age.

What DO other ladies my age like?! I’m so out-of-touch with my demographic.

(Also, see the guy in the dress shirt in that video? NEMESIS. I hated him at another show at the Smiling Moose but now I can’t remember show or why. BUT I DON’T FORGET A FACE.)

The next band was Atlas Decay. They had a lot of family and friends there because they’re local. I liked them well enough but I was anxious for Sianvar so I drifted off a lot. Also, I started to recognize some people in the crowd, like this one girl who was also at the Hail the Sun show last year and wound up becoming friends at the bar with a guy who is security at Mr. Small’s; a photographer we talked to outside of Diesel while waiting for the doors to open for the Hotel Books show (Henry stopped me from saying hello to him because he thinks I get weird when I talk to people); and my high school Instagram friend who started following me two years ago after some other show at Smiling Moose (Henry wouldn’t let me say hi to him either because he thinks 37-year-old women talking to 17-year-olds at shows in weird).

Also, there were a ton of people who were there alone! This is never the case when I’m there alone! There was a girl in a Circa Survive shirt who I totally would have talked to if Henry hadn’t been there with me. She ended up buddying up later with some other guy who was there alone and at one point I think they were talking about the upcoming Anthony Green show and I believe they were trying to remember what band Mat Kerekes (who is opening for him) is in and I SO BADLY wanted slide into their real life DMs and say, “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear, and I believe CITIZEN is the answer you’re looking for” but Henry gave me the “DON’T DO IT” look.

After Atlas Decay was Save Us From the Archon! Oh, how I love these proggy Pittsburgh peeps. Their bassist Samantha recently left the band to pursue her career so I was pretty bummed about that because the scene needs as many girls as it can get. And Samantha was a fucking bitchin’ bassist, you guys.

“What’s her career?” Henry asked.

“I don’t know but I bet she’s stupid-smart, being in a band like that. So probably an astrophysicist,” I shrugged.

SUFTA was recently signed to Tragic Hero Records, so they weren’t just playing at Smiling Moose that night because they were local support: they were playing there because they’re actually ON TOUR with Sianvar. I’m so stoked for them! They had a ton of family and friends there that night, including one of their moms, who dragged a stool right over to the stage and sat there in her denim farmers dress, literally headbanging and screaming.

INSPIRATION.

#MOMGOALS

My heart soared.

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Henry was ready to murder his eardrums around this point and his frown was getting so deep and droopy that I feared it was going to usurp the whole lower half of his face, like an actual Snapchat filter.

“You should just be happy that you’re spending time with me!” I shouted over the mathy vibes.

“I’d rather be doing that at home on the couch,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, but this is like…a date!” I said optimistically.

“Dates are when both people have fun,” he sighed.

“Eh…not always.”

Here’s Mom chatting up my photographer friend and Circa Survive girl.

Around this time, some guy arrived wearing a Number 12 Looks Like You shirt and I got unreasonably excited about this.

“Remember when I liked them?!” I cried.

“Not really,” Henry mumbled.

“Yeah it was probably in like 2006 or something. When I went through my really heavy screamo* phase.”

“Nope.”

*(Real screamo as in “not the Used” or any of the bands that are commonly mistaken for screamo because people JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND.)

So I wanted to tell that guy I liked his shirt but then some other guy stopped and said, “Hey man, I like your shirt” so then I couldn’t because I was standing right there and I would like a TRY-HARD.

UGH, my life.

MY DUM DUM LIFE.

My Iron Lung was next. I was totally in their way when they were trying to get all their shit before they set up, because I am always in the way no matter where I stand in that place. It’s inevitable. Even Henry was like, “Stop being in the way” and I was like, “WHERE DO YOU WANT ME TO GO THERE IS LITERALLY NO PLACE FOR ME ON THIS EARTH.”

God, what a deep fucking realization for me, you know? Life parallels. Ugh.

So yes. My Iron Lung — they were great! The singer reminded me a bit of Pacey from Dawson’s Creek meets Alex Vincent all grown-up from Child’s Play, so I was into it. But again, I was anxious for them to be done because Sianvar.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BJO_NtTgwMZ/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

My Iron Lung reminded me of the Iron Lung Glenn that I made for Halloween at work one year. (It’s totally blurry, too bad so sad.)

OK, but then it was finally time for Sianvar, and as each of them walked past us to take the stage, I made all kinds of swooning/fainting couch pantomimes and Henry just frowned.

(Did I mention that earlier in the night, he elbowed me and said, “There’s Will”? Because he did. Because he reluctantly knows everyone in this scene whether he likes it or not!)

Quick summary: Dance Gavin Dance is one of my all-time favorite bands and if you didn’t already know that then this must be your first time here (I’m sorry). The founder/guitarist of that band is a brilliant man named Will Swan, one of the most underrated musicians if you ask me (and a lot of other people, probably). Sometime ago, Will started his own record label called Blue Swan and it is the home to some of the most magnificent, unique post-hardcore bands of our time. There is a distinct sound associated with this label, and Will had curated some beautiful groups of musicians to represent that.

One of those bands is a Blue Swan supergroup, featuring Will, Donovan from Hail the Sun (they’ve recently been signed to Equal Vision, a bigger label so you can’t blame them), Sergio from Stolas, and Michael and Joseph from A Lot Like Birds. Together, they gel into this mystical, sonic beast and even Henry was like, ‘They were good.”

I mean, they were fucking exceptional. My eyes didn’t know who to look at! So much talent!

Henry said he hates how Donovan moves and I was pretty offended. Henry can be so judgey sometimes. I mean, how would Henry like him to move?! How would HENRY move if he was a singer on stage?!

Donovan moves like Pinocchio at times and that appeals to me, so suck it Henry.

Also, I love how Donovan stares over everyone’s heads with an intense, murderous gaze and sings so hard that he starts to rage-shake. I think he’s an amazing frontman and his voice is unreal, like why aren’t more people talking about this time? Why isn’t Hail the Sun a household name? Why did Chooch RUIN MY HAIL THE SUN EXPERIENCE AT WARPED TOUR?!

(I realize I just saw them last winter, but I’m not over my sour Warped Tour HTS experience. Thanks, son.)

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I liked that Sergio chilled up on a windowsill at one point, like “I’m just gonna sit here and casually play these complicated guitar parts while staring dreamily out the window at Carson Street.” Henry just rolled his eyes when I asked him if he too thought that was awesome.

Henry just doesn’t get excited about anything and I feel genuinely sorry for him. That cunt.

After the show Henry asked me if I wanted to talk to Will Swan and then we both just laughed because yeah right – me, talk to someone in a band? I don’t talk, I blubber. And then I cry. So we just left before any of that could happen. I’ll just be over here admiring you from afar, Will Swan. Le sigh.

***

After the show, we stopped at GetGo for our super fancy date dinner and when we got back in the car, Henry dropped the car key and spent the next fifteen minutes swearing while practically fisting the space in between the car seat and console where lip gloss, change, prosthetic fingers, and apparently car keys go to die.

It was so stupid that I started to crack up and then, you guys — get this: HENRY STARTED CRACKING UP TOO.

God, what a great night. Thank you, Sianvar.

*(Henry is obviously the ho.)

You know what really helps get a bitch through the day? Knowing that there’s ice cream with good friends on the other side.

We met up with Chris and Monica at Millie’s on Friday and even though it was HOT AF, we laughed a lot (even Henry, somehow) and had a good, quality hang.

We got there early and roamed the streets, looking shady as hell. Then I saw some guy I had a crush on in middle school and frantically texted Chris to HURRY because safety in numbers.

My friend Angie was all, “I doubt he remembers” but that’s just because she’s never been on the receiving end of my crushes and has no idea the lunacy and desperate aggression fueling it.

Lots of CALL-AND-HANG-UPs.

But now this lucky man-sack’s got my attention, yee haw.

When we spotted Chris and Monica, we sent Chooch off to fetch them and somehow in the span of 30 seconds, he managed to act enough of a fool for Monica to greet me with a, “Hello, just got here and I already called your son an asshole.”

I didn’t even need to ask why! The kid can get on a fucking nerve or 187, you think that you goin’ to heaven put sluga all up in that chest and hell is where you be dwelllin’….

Sorry, that was an impromptu Bone Thugs n Harmony takeover.

Anyway, the whole reason we even went to Millie’s was because I saw on Instagram that they were adding some fresh peach flavas up in that piece (Bone’s still in me, bitch please) and one of the flavors was some type of fabled peach and sweet corn?! I texted Chris and she was all, “Lemme just shove this gat down my pants and we’ll roll right on up, white girl.”

Because that’s what Wish Bone would say if he spoke on Chris’s behalf.

(I have been in some type of MOOD all evening, my apologies. I ate a brownie that Hot Naybor Chris brought over and I can’t for certain tell you that there wasn’t pot in it. Never mind that it was from some grocery store.)

Spoiler alert: the peach and sweet corn ice cream does not exist. Little punk ass bitches lied to me on Instagram. Or you know, just used awkward syntax which forced me to not understand the flavor listings.  I asked one of the young broads behind the counter and she at first looked at me like I was speaking in sweet corn tongues, but then she said, “Oh, I don’t know. I mean, sweet corn is the base of the popcorn ice cream….?” which I tried a sample of and it was just OK, sorry Rick Sebak. I saw you said on Instagram that it was a million shades of amaze, but I just wasn’t down with the endless chewing of ice cream.

So I got the brown butter peach which I thought was excellent until I reached my second choice flavor, nestled below it like the humble sleeper hit of the summer that it has proven to be: Ella’s almond butter and honey.

Fucking Hallelujah I am saved.

Monica also got that flavor and she agreed with me so now we’re talking about writing fanfic for it. I want it to be filthy basement hardcore and she’s thinking more of a sensual 18th century back door erotica. I’m sure we’ll meet in some type of BDSM middle.

Ugh, Chooch got basic vanilla as usual but this time turned Millie’s on its head by forgoing chocolate for SALTED CARAMEL, which he then spent 25 minutes complaining about, causing Chris to interrupt herself to say, “Wait a minute—-did you say that salted caramel sucks? I WILL FIGHT YOU.”

And Monica crossed all of her fingers under the table, hoping that that night’s diary entry would be titled:

Friday, August 12th, 2016 – The night Chris finally quit that asshole kid.

Ugh, he is so fucking terrible at eating ice cream, I honestly can’t stand it.

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Chris said she got a taste of what it’s like to carry my eyeball purse around Chooch, because he heard some lady tell Chris that she liked her hair and he got super jealous because god forbid someone else should get an ounce of attention in the presence of the Almighty Drama King.

After we finished our respective scoops, Chris suggested that we go for a walk about the ‘hood, so we took our show on the sidewalk. Chooch and I acted like morons while Chris pointed out all of the deadly wrought-iron fences she dreams to have ensconcing her future yard.

My Ice Cream Crew. I want to make us matching ringer tees. We need a better name first. Monica?

Accidental flash brings out my Nosferatu teeth.

Henry was so annoyed.

Chris kept saying she wanted to “see the church, the big one” but this was the only one we could find:

I wanted to break in and Henry said no.

When I finally realized what church Chris was trying to walk to, it was too late because we all had to get home and watch the Olympics. Bone Thugs have a song about that too but I can’t think of the words right now.

Something about diving into that icy blue and swim swam swum like da’ popo’s after u.

This was the perfect salvaging of a shitty day. Ice cream friends are the best friends!

It’s been a while since I unwound with a bullet-point post so why not start the week off right—super casual & relaxed.

That’s how I look in my wrinkled clothes. Oh Monday. What’s an iron.

• The Olympics might still be happening, but they’re over for me. My heart is empty now that swimming is done. (Ask Henry – I cried real tears about it yesterday and he was like “Are you for real right now, of course you are.”
• I’m on the trolley and I just yawned. REAL LIFE. Then the girl behind me sneezed and I slipped and said bless you. Ugh.
• Last night, I was reading about the Bieber/Selena Instagram feud, sparked by pictures of his new girlfriend, Lionel Richie’s daughter, when a LIONEL RICHIE SONG CAME ON THE RADIO. What does it mean, other than I listen to soft rock!?

• Tonight I’m going to see Sianvar, which is a supergroup consisting of members of Dance Gavin Dance, Stolas, Hail the Sun, and A Lot Like Birds. This is the first time in a while where I actually sprung out of bed on a Monday, so that’s how I know I’m excited. Also, Henry is going with me so I’m even more excited because now it will look like I have a friend.
• Maandag means Monday in Dutch. The more you know.
• Ugh I hate it when I get a crush on Henry it’s so dumb ew.

• Came into work and two of the main new printers have some FATAL ERROR message on then and now everything is all jacked up. HAPPY MAANDAG, MOTHERFUCKERS.
• Wendy just told me I’m wearing fall shoes and I’m like IDGAF WAHHHH!

• I was having a bad Friday and then Catherine gave me a delicious sugar cookie and that was awesome but now Monday is terrible too and I want another one of those cookies immediately. This Maandag can suck a frikandel.

• I got to watch some daytime TV with Judy on Thursday because it’s my late shift day and when Live with Kelly came on, Judy started up with her Jerry O’Connell ranting again and you know what? Judy’s right. Fuck Jerry O’Connell. That dummy.
• Honestly, what is my deal?! I’m sitting here like, “I can’t wait to leave work and see Henry” — I disgust myself.
  • I mean, he spelled Foreigner wrong when he texted me last week to say that “Foriegner is on, NBD.” THIS IS WHO I HAVE A CRUSH ON!?
    • Speaking of Foreigner, how have I never noticed the similarities between “That Was Yesterday” and Depeche Mode’s “Policy of Truth”?? I made Henry listen to both songs back to back last night and he said he has no idea what I’m talking about.

• That faux-pepperoni life. Chooch is still going strong with his meatless lifestyle. I’m shocked. He still doesn’t like vegetables though.

• Olympic lounging, you guys. The competition is strong at my house.

• Warped Tour is over and now it feels like summer is officially over too because I follow along via Twitter and Instagram for the entire tour, and I actually started to cry about this yesterday, along with Olympic swimming being over and Phelps supposedly retiring for real this time, and it’s too bad my tears aren’t the cure for cancer because they’re ever-flowing.
  • Speaking of sensitive, Chooch lost his mind last week because he found out that his favorite dog, a Corgi named Maverick who walks by our house all the time with his owner, died recently. Now the guy has a Corgi puppy named Spencer but Chooch DGAF because he’s no Maverick. Anyway, Chooch spent a large portion of the night crying about this at his desk while looking at a random picture of a cat. Henry’s mom felt that “THAT MAN SHOULD COME OVER HERE AND APOLOGIZE!” And Henry cried, “For his DOG DYING!?”
• I made a new Etsy shop for all of the sweet 1980s clothes from my Pappap’s house that I’m trying to get rid of, but there are a lot more that I still need to get pictures of, so if anyone wants to be a model for a day, hit me up. The clothes are super small and nothing is getting past my big fat hips, or I’d just do it myself. (I’d definitely wear an animal mask though because my face is the worst.)

• Henry and I binged our way through Game of Thrones during June and July and it took me a while to notice CHARLES DANCE in the opening credits, at which point I nearly fell off the couch in excitement. “CHARLES DANCE IS IN THIS AND I DIDN’T EVEN REALIZE!?” I cried in Henry’s face. “…..I guess?” he answered with hesitation, probably afraid of what answer is right or wrong. And so I had to explain to him that when I was in middle school, probably 6th grade, there was a made-for-TV version of The Phantom of the Opera, and he was the Phantom! “I was so obsessed with this version, that I cut out all of the advertisements for it from the TV Guide and taped them to my wall,” I told Henry, my heart threatening to burst with joyous memories. “Of course you did,” he sighed. So then any time he was in a scene on GoT, I would get really close to Henry and yell, “CHARLES DANCE.”
• When I ran into my old friend Casandra last week (and whose name I consistently spelled wrong in my last post because I’m terrible), we briefly reminisced about the last time we hung out, which was at one of my house parties in 2004 (probably?) back when everyone would get drunk and try to hit me with a frisbee as I skated up and down the road in front of my house. We called it “Hit Erin With a Frisbee.” So inventive.  Anyway, it made me feel like I should have a party soon, only maybe during the fall, when it’s not 187 degrees in my house.

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• Henry finally hung up several pictures that have been laying in a pile in a corner, crying. Those bitches over at A Beautiful Mess would probably have a coronary if they saw the randomness of my gallery wall. I DIDN’T PRE-PLAN IT WITH BLUEPRINTS, OMG.
  • I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do with the small piece of wall above the fireplace mantel. Henry is still firmly against glitter, but I feel like something needs to happen in that spot before he hangs the Mouse Attack light up there.
    • Don’t worry — I have time. It’s going to take him forever to get that light to work.

• I was cleaning under the sink in Sharon’s bathroom when this travel bottle of Sambuca from our trip to Greece literally rolled off a shelf into my hand. And then right after that I found a piece of paper that had my name written on it in her handwriting and it was just a bit much for my heart to take. She was in my dream last night, but it was the awesome 1980s Aunt Sharon that I have the best memories of, and it was a lot better than the nightmares I had been having about her sporadically over the last 5 years. Those After-Death signs and signals are so creepy-awesome and it’s been comforting, even just hearing a Bon Jovi jam on the radio in my bedroom, given how shitty and traumatic the last couple of months have been. I  hope things get better soon. :(
  • Maybe RIOT FEST will help!!
• Still trying to get Henry to agree to a Labor Day weekend trip to Louisville so we can see Artifex Pereo. Ugh, he’s being such a DAD about it.
• Three more hours until Sianvar….
• I gave up my seat on the trolley last week to some little kid who was standing with his dad. I hope that one day, when they’re having Christmas dinner, the boy says, “Hey dad, remember that time when the nice lady with the bloody teeth necklace let me have her seat on the trolley?” I could be a legend in their family. YOU DON’T KNOW.
• Gayle gave me 75 cents so now I’m eating a dinner of Cheezits. Thanks, Gayle!

OK, one more hour until I get to repeatedly beat my head off the wall at Smiling Moose. Don’t trip over a dead body when you’re Pokemon Go’ing, friends. Merry Maandag.

I follow Kesha on Instagram because why wouldn’t I follow Kesha on Instagram, and as soon as she posted about the limited run, small venue tour she had spontaneously put together, my ticket-buying reflex went on HIGH ALERT. And like any good teenager, I was right there on the computer the moment tickets went on sale, because I wanted to see her perform reimagined versions of her songs with the CREEPIES as her backing band.

I mean, fuck yeah, right.

The show sold out in like a day so good thing I excel at this shit.

After eating dinner down the street at the Grant, Henry pulled up to Mr. Smalls to kick me to the curb while his mom screamed and I mean SCREAMED, “have a good time, sweetie!

” while Chooch sarcastically cried, “bye MOMMY I love you!

”

Ugh forever.

Chooch was also mad at me because he didn’t know I was going to see Kesha until that day and felt betrayed that he wasn’t invited to tag along.

Waited in a long line with a bunch of annoying people. Stood near the right side of the stage with a bunch of annoying people. Suffered through a super lame DJ set by DanceCRUSH (yawn) with a bunch of annoying people. I thought the girl member of DanceCRUSH had on a shirt that said CUNT on the back and I thought, “Wow, how progressive, maybe I like these people” but it turned out that it said “Climate” so she went back to being basic and actually her mannerisms and were fairly annoying so I had to stop looking at her and instead I focused on the crowd, the large majority of which was standing still, looking bored, because if this is what they wanted to stand through maybe they’d have gone to a high school dance.

But finally, Kesha and the Creepies took the stage at 9:15 and the couple dry-humping next to me finally moved over far enough that I no longer felt like I was in danger of contacting anything.

You guys at one point they kissed SO SLOPPILY that when their nasty lips finally broke the seal, numerous strings of sticky, slimy saliva kept their faces connected and it was like the most sexual hatching of Gremlins ever. I started burping up the beer I forced back earlier at Grant’s.

Meanwhile, there were these two glittered girls in front of me and we were coexisting harmoniously, screaming when Kesha came out, jumping around together, just being genuinely stoked and enjoying the show, when the boyfriend-girlfriend duo of DanceCRUSH emerged from backstage. The girl part of the duo came barrelling over, pushed me back into the wall, and forcefully hugged the two girls in front of me. And then proceeded to TALK TO THEM in a very annoying “I’M A REALLY COOL LOCAL DJ WHO PLAYS TOP 40 HITS ON MY LAPTOP DID YOU SEE ME UP THERE ON THAT STAGE PULLING FACES AND DABBING?” voice while her boyfriend apologized to me for blocking my view and moved over so his stupid hat wasn’t hitting my forehead.

So he gets a pass.

His girlfriend was a fucking grade A asshole though who, as a “performer,” should have more respect for keeping her faux-ghetto mouth shut while someone is on stage singing but what do I know.

Ugh, I just closed my eyes and saw her stupid face and her stupid fucking hair bun in my mind.

And it was funny because the girls in front of me were clearly trying to enjoy Kesha after they got the HI HOW ARE YOUs out of the way, but that fucking DJ douche just kept on running her mouth and her personality was so exaggerated and cartoonish, like she was created for a Parks and Recreation episode but then scrapped because she wasn’t funny enough.

So basically I missed “Dinosaur” in its entirety because of her inconsiderate jawing off and bun-bobbing but after a few minutes, she screamed, “BRB!!!!!!” to the girls and then walked back to the secret side stage door AND NEVER CAME BACK, SEE YA BITCH.

And then the rest of the night was absolutely perfect, no assholes were around me, Kesha was a beautiful glittered sight, and it was good vibes only.

“Nothing bad is allowed inside these four walls. Not your ex-boyfriend, not my lawsuit—” and we all started screaming so loud that I’m not sure what she said after that.

She did mention her lawsuit a lot and I was extra glad that I got to be one of the people there supporting her in person because the whole situation makes me sick and even if I wasn’t already a Kesha fan, I would be hardpressed not to have her back. There was a lot of “Fuck the man” and “Free Kesha” chants throughout the night and it must have really made her feel great.

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“I’m tired of people saying I can’t sing,” she said at one point, and I’m here to tell you that Kesha can SANG y’all.

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What a fucking hot, sweaty party. After that idiot DJ went away, I decided that I loved everyone around me and it turned out to be one of the best solo shows I’ve attended so far. My throat hurt for two days from all the screaming and it was wonderful!

Kesha is an inspiration. She ended the night with “I Shall Be Released’ and it was really hard to keep the old eyes dry. I hope she never gives up and I hope that Dr. Luke eventually finds himself out of a career. I know that’s not likely because men get away with so much disgusting shit in the music industry, and in general. Oh, to be a privileged white man!

Speaking of privileged white men, when I left Mr. Small’s, Henry was nowhere to be found. Usually his Dad Game is strong and he’s sitting in the car on a darkened street, looking like the fucking Night Stalker, so that I can just jump right in and not have to stand on a corner with strangers.

I didn’t see him and I noticed that he hadn’t texted me his location, which is like Rule #1 in the Dad Handbook, so I called him THREE TIMES and he never answered. I called Chooch, who also didn’t answer. Finally, as I stood there in the dark, the rage brewing inside me, he called me back and gave me some shaky excuse about “traffic.” I snapped at him to hurry and as I hung up, I heard someone call out my name and it ended up being my friend Casandra whom I haven’t seen since like 2004! She recently moved back to Pittsburgh from LA and it was so nice to her familiar face again! She and her husband Steve waited with me and we spent that time catching up and kind of half-assedly waiting near Kesha’s bus with a small crowd while some dickhead guy sitting on the sidewalk kept trying to deter us.

“Do you guys really think she’s going to be here, in such an obvious spot? She’s going to be on the other side of the building,” he said in this lazy lilt that, along with his smudged eyeliner, totally rubbed me the wrong way.

When we continued to stand there and talk, he interrupted us AGAIN and said, “Seriously, I’ve been doing this for like five years and I’m telling you, she’s not going to come out here.”

OK GREAT, GUY! COOL STORY!

“Well, I’m waiting for my ride, and I’m going to just keep standing here anyway, so….” I said, turning my back on him and continuing my conversation with Casandra, so seriously STOP INTERRUPTING. Jesus Kesha, why are your fans such assholes?

Anyway, running into Casandra was like the cherry on top of a fantastic show — I’m glad that someone I know was also there and experienced the majesty that is Kesha and the Creepies!

****
The next day, I was talking to Chooch and he said, “Oh yeah, when I saw that you called me last night, I figured it was because the show was over so I went upstairs and woke up Daddy.”

THAT SON OF A BITCH WAS SLEEPING, THERE WAS NO “TRAFFIC.”

Today I found out that the band Divorce. called it quits two weeks ago and then I just watched Phelps swim his last race and now the Olympics are officially over for me. 

Also it’s 187 degrees in my house and I’m laying here with three fans on me (not Dans like my phone originally tried to tell you although having three Dans on me COULD be pretty interesting depending on what kind of Dans they were and if they liked good music) and I think I might be internally melting. I made Henry go buy me electrolytes and he was like what is that and I had to basically spell out GATORADE for him, God why do I have to be dating such a dum-dum. 

Chooch is at his aunt Kelly’s house for the night so at least there are only two humans here radiating body heat like really uncomfortable, lazy super heroes. 

BRB going to stick my head in the freezer again. 

Ok I’m back because I was thinking about how earlier when Henry and I were having dinner at Eat n Park ( HOT DATE ALERT), “Warm Blood” by Carly Rae Jepsen came on and I started crying over my salad, seriously, because it made me reminisce about her show that Chooch and I went to last winter and how fantastic it was (and also how there is no humidity in February) and then that in turn made me think about how I will always associate her with Olympic swimming thanks to this video from the 2012 London Olympics, oh god I’m crying again please someone get the tranq gun. 

We took Henry’s mom to the Grant Bar for dinner on Wednesday, which is down the street from Mr. Small’s and has THE BEST COCONUT CREAM PIE ON EARTH.

I’m not kidding. I’m a coconut cream pie savant, having studied all types of crust, custard, and creamy caps (I prefer a whipped topping over a meringue, for your information). I know a good coconut cream pie. I’ve been disappointed, I’ve been underwhelmed, I’ve been satiated, but rarely have I been WOWED. That old dude at Grant’s knows what’s up. Honestly, I can never even remember how I felt about the actual food every time I’ve left that joint, because it’s the pie that stays on my mind.

THAT FUCKING GOLD MEDAL PIE.

“You’re going to love this place,” Henry said to Judy as we walked in. “Everyone here will be your age.”

And sure enough!

We had a great time at Grant’s except that I hated our waitress. I mean, she wasn’t THE WORST but she was definitely stand-offish and having a rough night and I’m sorry, but if I’m afraid to ask a waitress questions, then what’s the point, why didn’t I just go to a fucking vending machine for dinner.

First of all, I asked for cole slaw in lieu of a potato product for my side, and she MIGHT HAVE TOLD ME at that time that all sandwiches COME with a small side of cole slaw, but instead, she brought me like three servings of cole slaw and I was like, “Oh. OK, wow.” I mean, perhaps I would have asked for cottage cheese instead!

Second of all, I decided after we ordered our food that I wanted some type of beer so that I could calm my nerves because I was going to the show alone and walking into the venue is always the hardest part for me because NO FRIENDS, SO SAD. I didn’t have a drink menu but Henry pointed to a sign on a wall that had some kind of dumb beer special on it so I was like excuse me can I have that and she made a huge deal about needing my ID and then took forever to come back to check it and I was so frustrated because she made me feel like I was abusing my power as a customer by ordering a bottle of beer and I’M SORRY I HAVE SOCIAL ANXIETY AND NEED THIS RIGHT NOW PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME FEEL WORSE.

Third of all, I realized she reminded me of an old boss and that just made it worse.

Meanwhile, Judy was all, “LEMME TRY SOME OF THAT BEER” and took a swig.

She wasn’t impressed.

She shrugged and made an “eh” expression and Chooch leaned over and said, “That moment you make the Trump face” and it was PERF.

“I was always more of a whiskey and water person,” she said matter-of-factly.

And then we got the last three pieces of coconut cream pie!! Henry had to settle for lemon cream so he acted like a little pussy bitch about it.

I wish you could taste this pie right now. I wish I hadn’t eaten a grilled cheese so I could have had two pieces of pie and Chooch could have gotten apple instead, I don’t give a fuck. I wish that old man pie baker lived in my kitchen cupboard.

Apparently, Judy’s mom made a killer coconut cream, so we all braced ourselves  and waited for her to denounce Grant’s limp-writ

Because I was going to a show, I didn’t get to watch the Olympics with Judy that night and I was pretty sad about that. But we got some swimming action in last night! She kept talking about Linda Lasky and I was like, “WHO IN THE FUCK IS SHE TALKING ABOUT’ so I googled her and all I found was a bunch of basic, non-medaling women. Eventually I realized she was referring to KATIE LEDECKY.

The fuck.

Also, she doesn’t care WHAT color Ryan Lochte’s hair is, because MMM MMM MMM. He’s darling! Also, it’s “Lockie” not Lochte. She was very perplexed when he didn’t medal and kept murmuring, “Lockie, what happened to you?” over and over, and it was so depressing.

Judy’s favorite swimmer is Esther Williams. I hadn’t heard of her and when I looked her up, I realized she is old as fuck—so old she’s dead.

Then it switched to gymnastics and she was filling me in on a lot of the things I had missed during the week. “And there’s Aly and….the black girl.” Oh Judy.

Henry took her home today at work, so I had to watch all the swimming stuff without her so no surprise Phelps got a SILVER. NOTHING FEELS RIGHT!!

I just realized I’ve been watching TV all night on the non-HD channel. I’ve been spending way too much time with Judy.

It’s been a while since I posted photos from my glamorous afternoon walks so here are some right now, can you stand it.

Was Missy shot?

I just like this side street ok?

This view of Liberty makes Pittsburgh look even smaller than it actually is.

A symbol of my fake Irish heritage. (FUN FACT: I’m 0% Irish. Don’t let my name fool you.)

RIP Altar Bar. Saw some good bands up inside you but you were kind of a shitty venue SORRY BUT ITS TRUE. The sound there was awful. I’ll miss walking by on my lunch breaks, trying to catch a glimpse of the bands performing that night, though :(

Ugh ew disgusting I hate Wholeys. Bleh.

I remember when this area used to be the shit. Long live Metropol & Rosebud. At least Costume World is still there?

Wow guys you’re in for a treat: here is where I buy stamps for the post cards I don’t write anymore! (I ran out of recipients. But we had a good three month run!)

Across from the post office is one of the Crazy Mochas I frequent. This one is weird because literally never the same person is working, I can’t understand it. On this day, the most beautiful half-Samurai bun’d man made me a perfect iced soy latte and be busted me every time I tried to paparazzi him.

Also at this Crazy Mocha, if I get there at 1:30, I will always see this super old man who orders the same no-nonsense thing every time: small coffee, filled up with a little room at the top so he can put in his cream, and he pays with a crumpled dollar. I love that man. Carrying the torch for Simpler Coffee Times.

REFECLECTION OF MY IDIOT LEG in the revolving door of the Westin, where the memories of the furries live on in our hearts.

And then I saw the winner of the day’s best t-shirt contest. Michael Myers All Day Every Day.

***

Meanwhile, back in the office, two of the new copiers had malfunctioned, which was hilariously ironic because hello NEW and also because it was the first day that the Ricoh people weren’t on our floor for trainings.

Everything was eventually straightened out (Barb would have had a fit, though) but all this did was make me miss BECKY the Ricoh trainer even more.

I don’t know, why I got it in my head on Monday that I wanted to be her favorite person on the floor, and it was like totally nauseating to Glenn. Todd said, “Well, I think it worked because I heard her mention your name in some of the other training sessions*,” and Glenn was like, “STOP FEEDING HER EGO.”

*(All of the sessions took place literally right next to our desks so everyone on my side of the floor are essentially Ricoh pros now.)

And also, Becky saw the painting that I made for Ethan when she was standing outside of his office talking to him, so then the conversation shifted to how TALENTED I AM (lol) and I was fucking dying because Glenn had his earbuds in, probably listening to some right wing extremist AM radio show, and he missed the whole scene. I considered asking them to replay it but I had actual work to do.

:(

Todd mentioned the next day that he heard the conversation but then he thought, “This is too much” and put his headphones on.

I’m so underappreciated around here!

I’m going to go look for Becky on Facebook now, bye.

We got a late start tonight but made it home  in time for Ledecky & Phelps. She still doesn’t know that I’m live-blogging this. 

• “18 years old and he’s got an attitude like THAT?! Ew.” Re:Australian swimmer Chalmers’ face. 
• She just made disapproving grunts at the previews for Girl On the Train. But then the Nationwide commercial came on and she approved. 
• Now she’s talking about some guy who used to come into the laundromat who looked JUST LIKE SCOTT HAMIL and she wanted to walk around town with him and have him give out autographs. ???
• “He ain’t about to give them reactions,” Judy said as they showed Phelps in the waiting area.
•  “Her boobs must be like SMASHED in there” as Katie Ledecky tugged on her suit. “LETS GO KARIE, KATIE, whatever.” She’s very proficient when it comes to properly pronouncing her last name though. Somehow. 
• “GOOD GIRL SHE DID IT!”

• Chooch made her popcorn to help calm her nerves. 
• “THAT’S HER MOTHER” after they literally said “here is Ledecky’s mother.”
• You guys Henry’s mom is giggling like a SCHOOLGIRL over Phelps winning his 20th gold. She hates Le Clos so bad and is just flipping her lid right now. 
• “I like speed skating.” “That’s in the winter, mom,” Henry calmly corrected her. “Skiing is ok too,” she went on. 

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• Judy just explained the Geico butt-dialing commercial to me: “See it’s calling itself. This commercial is so stupid.”
• “I want a Michael Phelps jacket.”
• “I DIDNT KNOW GRANDMA USED TO BE A SWIMMER” Judy just shouted to Henry who is only two feet away. “Yeah she swam for Schenley high school. She used to do the backstroke and all those butterflies.”
• Judy thinks she can probably go to the Strip District and get one of those Olympic jackets for cheap. “Well, maybe not cheap…”
• That guy’s got so many jobs,” Judy said angrily about Ryan Seacrest. “He must not have a life.”
• RYAN LOCHTE *homer drool* Sorry. That was me, not Judy. 
• Uh…there’s still another Phelps race to go and Judy left the room to sit and read the CIRCULARS?!
• Judy’s back just in time to offer up a swimming lesson: “You have to learn how to breathe too and all that.”
• This relay thing is about to start and Team USA just walked out. “MmmMmm, we got all the good ones. Phelps, and um…one two three…four good ones.”
• PHELPS’ cap just broke???
• “I can’t believe he lets them put those marks all over him” – Judy obsessing over cupping again. 
• “I hate when they do that – she’s a little bit crooked. What the hell they got, a magnifying glass?” We’re watching gymnastics now. Balance beam, specifically. 
• We both agreed that these girls are fake-nice to each other after they complete their routines but they all really hate each other. The Olympics is bringing me and Judy together you guys. We like and hate the same people. 
• Ok Judy has to take her pill soon whatever that means and I’m going to bed while she continues to mull over the fact that the women’s gymnastic leotards cost $1200. 

I’ve mentioned it on here several times in the past but my love of clowns comes from my grandma–she had an entire room full of them in her house. Technically, that room was the stereo room, but ever since I was little, I always referred to it as at the clown room and it was hands down my favorite room in that house. Her collection was enchanting! It was always my dream to one day have my own clown room, but for now, my collection is just kind of all over the house.

I made a special birthday request for my friends to draw me clown art, because how special would that be to have a gallery wall filled with such personal pieces? Ugh, I’m so sentimental.

Anyway, here’s some of the creations I got, and I just love them all so much!

Maya, chibi doll-maker extraordinaire, made me this adorable stuffed clown which I’m going to make a frame for because I don’t want to lose it, ever! Maya is temporarily on hiatus but I really hope she returns to the crafting world soon because I’m craving more chibis for my band dude collection.

LIKE PERHAPS BRADLEY FROM EMAROSA?! OMG swoon.

When Sandy lugged this old clown string-art thing over to my desk last week, I was like, “OMFG YES!” while everyone was like, “OMFG NO!!” I keep forgetting to ask her where she found it, and I really hope it’s haunted, like maybe it was a mental institution arts and craft project. I temporarily have it leaning against the fireplace at home and when Chooch’s dumb cat Drew noticed it for the first time, her eyes got saucer-like and she literally sprung backward and ran away. It was the best!

Wendy abhors clowns so for her to suck it up and draw this for me was like, it was just huge, OK? “It’s so cute!” I cried and that offended her because it was supposed to be creepy. “See, it has a bug in its mouth,” Wendy pointed out. SO ADORABLE.

And Sandy’s kids got in on the action too! I finally have Zoe and Elena originals, so blessed! Sandy wants me to assign art projects more often, but not too often.

BRB going to find some picture frames!

• “WHOOOOOAAAA. That’s totally amazing.” Re: men’s diving.
• “THEIR BICEPS ARE LIKE…WOW” – talking about watching swimming last night.
• “Is this new? This men’s diving thing? I don’t remember it from last time.”
• [just spent 10 minutes away from the Olympics trying to remember the muscle cream that I used to use when I played tennis. Then I remembered that Joe Namath was in the commercial which led me to the answer: FLEX ALL 454, bam bitches.]
• Judy is currently more concerned about Henry’s back hurting than men’s synchronized diving. She wants to know if he wears one of “them” belts. No, he does not.
• There was just a mention of the Olympics first transgender athlete but Judy didn’t hear.
• HENRY JUST SAID ONE OF THE AMERICAN DIVERS LOOKS LIKE ANTHONY GREEN. Henry is such a scene kid. 
• “China is good”–judy’s succinct review of men’s synchronized diving. WELL I THINK THEY CHEAT, BUT WHATEV.
• Judy just disgustedly said, “I have no idea where ANYTHING is” like she is extremely disappointed in herself. And this isn’t about a country in the Olympics, but a restaurant nearby in Millvale.
• We’ve switched from diving to swimming and they’re showing Missy Franklin in her warmup gear.  “I want one of them jackets, they’re nice. That freestyle, that’s just regular swimming right?”
• Judy’s girl Katie Ledecky is coming up. “That’s the one to watch, that Ledecky. She’s next I think.”
• She just lovingly cooed “there she is. GOD LOOK AT THOSE SHOULDERS. OMG THATS ALL MUSCLE. that spandex, that’s gotta bother them, goddamn.”
• “those glasses are so ugly. I guess it protects their eyes though.”
• “China. Oh shut up.”
• She just said something that sounded like “take him in the locker room and stab him” – this night has taken a dark turn.
• “I wonder how much those cost. She’s got a white one.” We’re back on the warmup jacket kick now.
• Man buns are getting so much Olympic love. Judy wouldn’t care if Henry started wearing his hair in a man bun. Now she’s reminiscing about Henry’s hair and how long and beautiful it was UNTIL HE WENT INTO THE SERVICE.
• Oh god please someone get Judy a damn Olympic windbreaker.
• “You watch [the Olympics] and you forget about everything going on in the world” – Real Talk with Judy.
• “I don’t like fencing,” said like there was a bad taste in her mouth.
• Judy is relishing this King/Russian doper rivalry. “GET HER BABY GET HER COME ON COME ON YES!”
• Re: commercial for Geneva College: “this is a really stupid commercial.” After it was over, I agreed. “Isn’t it dumb?! What terrible actors.” I think it’s safe to say Judy won’t be attending Geneva.
• “Ew, I hate Raisin Bran. Ick. God,” like she has spiders crawling on her. She recently learned to like raisins however, but she doesn’t like them, you know, soaked in brandy or anything. #OlympicCommercials
• The whole phelps/Le clos thing is playing out now, with Phelps looking all serious in his warm-up gear and Le Clos sticking out his tongue and shadow boxing in front of him, and Judy goes, “Wow, he’s what you call a DICK HEAD.”
• (honestly though this is intense AF)
• OK I’ve hit my Olympic limit. I’m sure Judy has much to say about beach volleyball but we’ll never know.

Well guys, it finally happened. We got new copiers/printers at work and everything is NEW and CONFUSING and even though dumb Printer 39 shat the bed all the time, at least we all knew how to use it.

I actually got a headache today from all of the NEW THINGS hullabaloo and I rarely get headaches!

Ugh, learning new things is dumb.

The one highlight of the day though was when the Ricoh lady was hanging around, waiting for the next training session to start, when she noticed the Wall of Glenns next to her. “Oh, who’s the artist?” she asked and I nearly choked on my tongue in my effort to be the first to let her know that–ME! ME! ‘Tis I! Right here! And then I explained to her what the RIP Glenns were all about and she laughed and said, “These are really funny! Patty Duke, haha” and I was so fucking smug because those dumb Glenns are basically the best work I’ve ever done in this place.

I was telling Glenn about it later and he said, “That’s why you have a headache, from your head expanding.”

Before I had my training, I was complaining about “HOW AM I GOING TO PRINT MY LABELS!?” just as one of the Ricoh guys (the one with a beautiful maybe-Australian accent and not deep-Texan like Ethan suggested) just happened to be walking by, stopped in his tracks and said, “I can help you with that.”

AND HE DID AND IT WAS SUPER INTIMATE.

Maybe that’s when my headache started….

Amber2 basically threw a fit when she came in and saw that her desk printer was gone, just want to put that out there. She eventually calmed down, though.

I tried to imagine what today would have been like if BARB still worked here and I had to stop thinking about it because it was making my head hurt even more.

Then Sandy found out that I know how to scan on this new machine and I walked in on her offering up my scanning services to Bridget and I was just like, “Ugh Sandy, stop reminding people that I know how to do basic admin things.”

Everything sucks and is stupid, but one of the machines makes colored copies so this could really elevate the ‘ZINE to new heights.

Now I have to go and make a RIP Glenn for the old printer.

:( It’s just all too much to handle on a Monday.

Holy shit, am I excited to share another one of my friends with everyone. I finally wore down my pal Octavia into agreeing to do one of these things and it was anything but a wasted effort. We met back in 2008/2009 on Etsy, of all places! So literally my very first impression of her was getting this well-thought out, flowery Etsy convo from her on my now-defunct photography shop, and thinking, “Who is this woodland creature and how can I trap her into a mason jar, I swear to god I promise to poke holes in the top.” It took many years, but we finally got to meet in person last summer, and again last spring, and it was magic each time!

What I love about Octavia is that even just texting with her is like communicating with someone from another time. She is a fount of wisdom, well-spoken, an artist in every sense, and the personification of a first edition Hans Christian Anderson book. Her fiercely loyal friendship and nurturing personality is a true bastion in my life. I learn something new about her and from her on a daily basis – she keeps life fascinating and full of wonder! And she has cultivated this amazingly creative and whimsical (sorry if you hate that word, pretend like scrapbooking mommy bloggers haven’t ruined it) environment for her adorable daughter Tallulah, who is well on her way to growing into a brilliant, free-thinking, bad-assed mini-Octavia.

I could keep gushing until the end of time, but I’m going to just let the interview speak for itself before anyone starts puking in a boot. Also, I pictured Octavia sitting on a toadstool drinking absinthe from an antique Turkish tea cup while answering these questions….with a tuba by her side.

*****

2. Oh man, you may have just reignited my polenta craze of 2008 because mamaliga sounds like something that needs erotically dumped into my mouth immediately. I mean…next question! If I had to tell someone what my first impression was upon visiting your home for the first time, without hesitation I would say HOUSE OF MUSIC. You and your husband Dustin have quite the collection of instruments! Tell the good people what instruments you play and also about your BAND!

Dustin is the far and away the music maestro of the house. He’s played guitar for twenty years and can play almost any instrument. I play accordion and violin, which conveniently fill some gaps in Dusty’s repertoire. I can also play Sloop John B on ukulele (yeah, boi!).

Our band is The Junktown Jerky Vendors. The name comes from a magazine in one of my favorite video game series; FallOut. The songs we’re working on are all apocalypse and science fiction themed, and we try to write them as though we’re traveling minstrels in the wasteland. Some songs include “Time Travel Paradox,” “Tunnel Snakes Rule,” and “Wasteland Dog,” which may never get recorded because I wrote it with Garrison Keller’s voice in my head and now it will never sound right to me without him as the vocalist.

3. In order to escape the reality of living in a world where Donald Trump is an official presidential candidate, you are given the opportunity to live inside a cartoon. What cartoon do you choose and why!? (I get hyper when I think of questions.)

Oh how I wish! Over The Garden Wall. It’s a short-run special series Cartoon Network aired over a magical week in 2013 (a week that also included my birthday! Does that mean it was a gift especially for me? Yes. Yes, it does). The art, atmosphere, voice acting, and music are so beautiful that it threatens to break my heart. Watching it was the first time I ever genuinely wished I could crawl inside a show and live there. It’s on Netflix (or Hulu? Now I can’t remember which), and I highly recommend queuing it up as soon as leaves start changing color. I’m so obsessed with it that I only allow myself to watch it September through November to avoid over-doing it and killing the magic.

Runners up: Gravity Falls, Adventure Time

4. You made a great tour guide when we visited Savannah last year; what stands out the most to me is the panache with which you pointed out all of the bugs in the Bonaventure Cemetery. If you had to spend a full day with one bug as your side kick, what bug would it be and how would you two spend your day?

Definitely a Praying Mantis! They are the Kung fu masters of the insect world, and as such we would spend the day rescuing villages from bandit hordes, hunting monsters, and mastering dope poses at the tops of bamboo forests.

5. What was something you were “known for” in high school?

It really couldn’t be anything but soccer. No one really knew me, and I peace’d out of high school after 9th grade. I was crazy about soccer for most of my childhood, and got pretty damn good—I became starting forward just a month into the season—before breaking my knee in a way that I was never able to fully recover from. After that I couldn’t see the point in being there anymore, and tested out. Boo high school!

6. Describe your personal style either using all made-up words, or in the vein of e.e.cummings:

i prefer glasses (i see more than

    and only

             and not always

        what it is they show me)

like shutters, bold

                                 distracting.

child of earth and Earth and soft cloths like

wind in leaves and growing loam, and clouds

                         drifting

                                    toward anachronisms       (what is on that tshirt?)

a braless boheme

who never does seem

to have grown up quite completely.

 

7.  I’m sitting downtown on my lunch break thinking of questions for you just as this bro rolls up to a red light with Led Zeppelin’s “All My Love” blaring from his car like it was his fucking Red Light anthem, bitches. What would your “rolling up to the red light” anthem be?

Dig Up Her Bones by The Misfits. I can’t not punch the chorus out on the ceiling of the car when it plays!

“Red Light Anthem,” is such a cool phrase.

8. Draw a picture of Henry reading your favorite book!

9. OMG he needs to make this his Facebook profile picture, I’m dying! Speaking of Henry, here’s a guest question from him: “Do you ever listen to the Top Gun soundtrack to relive your days in THE SERVICE like I do?” Ok fine, real question–the part about you being in THE SERVICE is true. Can you regale us with a Service story?!

As a kid I totally had a Top Gun single .45 record with “Take My Breath Away,” on one side and “The Dangerzone,” on the other!

Every single person going into the military gets told by some well-meaning person to “not volunteer for anything.” They ask for volunteers a LOT in basic training. The first time our TI’s (drill sergeants) asked my flight (your particular group of around 50 people by dorm room) for a volunteer not a single soul spoke up. As seconds began stretching long I could see the TI’s starting to lose respect for us. With as shitty as they had already been to us, I couldn’t imagine what it would be like if they actually hated us. So I volunteered. For everything. I’d raise my hand every time, before they could even finish saying what it was for, and I was literally the only one to ever do so.

One of the things I ended up volunteering for was chow-call. This poop-wrapped nightmare of a job involved marching into the chow hall before every meal, and up to the table full of officers who were coordinating everything to announce in perfect verbiage that your flight was ready to come in. Those officers acted like they hated their lives, their jobs, and us, and would eviscerate you for the slightest mistake in your marching, your verbiage, your uniform. You had to address everyone with “Sir/Ma’am, trainee ____ reports as ordered,” before you could say anything else. The ‘Shark Tank,’ as they were called, loved to all talk at you at once, so you’d go blue in the face trying to spit that shit out a hundred times to answer everyone. After they finally let you leave you had to lead your flight in and direct every single one of them to their seats before you had your own 30 seconds to choke as much food down as possible before you were getting screamed at to GTFO. It was really crappy, but the people in charge actually started being much nicer to me after a while. They’d tell a bunch of terrible shit at everyone, then follow it up with “except you, Clark.” It didn’t win me any friends in my flight, but I wasn’t there to make friends.

The ultimate pay-back for my shitty flight came when I volunteered for kitchen duty. For some reason we had all heard that it was a hot, extremely laborious job, and naturally mine was the only hand that went up. The TI even said to everyone, “Really? You’re going to just let Clark do this shit too?” Silence. She rolled her eyes and led me down to the kitchen where I discovered a magical fact none of us had known: there is no cook position in the Air Force. The kitchen was staffed by very well-fed civilian women who, day in and day out, watched us hapless recruits attempting to stuff entire veal cutlet and burritos into our throats while being read the riot act. Kitchen duty ended up being about 10 minutes of dishwashing and an hour and a half of being fed cakes and sandwiches by clucking mother hens.

There must have been a meeting while I was gone for that first kitchen duty, because when I got back to the dorm room the flight captain apologized on behalf of everyone and offered me a deal; if I kept doing kitchen duty I would no longer be put on the schedule to be awakened in the middle of the night for the hour-long rotating night guard position. It may have been terrible of me, but I excepted their offer without a word otherwise and became the only one in our flight who was well fed, well rested, and in good favor of all of the screaming maniac’s in charge of us.

10. That story is amazing! Maybe it will inspire Henry to open up and share his own SERVICE tale but probably not. :( Now’s the time when you shut this bad boy down with a list of 5 songs that everyone MUST listen to today in your honor.

There are a lot of songs that wanted to make the list, but I tried to narrow them down to the five that paint the most accurate portrait of my interior landscape. Enjoy being me for a few moments, and then enjoy being able to stop!

•  “Murder in the Red Barn” – Tom Waits: If I have to pick just one Tom Waits song, this is it.

• “Postcards From Italy” – Beirut: One day I am going to OD on sentimentality.

• “Dead Girl” – Acid Bath:  I am not what you would call a fan of Acid Bath. This is literally their only song I like, but this thing is…it’s special.

• “So Come  Back, I Am Waiting” – Okkervil River: This is similar to Acid Bath in that I’m not really into OR, but this song is just so sensual and magnetic. I’m 100% certain the band meant it about drugs, but in my head I have an elaborate movie that plays about a young girl running away to the woods to learn dark magics from a legendary beast.

• Scars of Time, opening song to the video game Chrono Cross: I challenge your soul not to feel alive while listening to this masterpiece.

****

Ugh, whoever said all good things must come to an end was huffing Summer’s Eve—I wanted to ask her 87 more questions! I hope you enjoyed wading through the mind of my friend Octavia, and if you haven’t your fill, you can read more about her on her blog!

I’m It’s Friday and I got a good seat on the trolley and I’m wearing jeans at work so let’s celebrate with five things I like right now, because that takes less energy than writing about all the things I hate.

1. Old As Fuck Rosary

Octavia gifted me with this beautiful heartwood rosary that she bought from an ex-Dominican monk in Venice and I am so smitten with it! I love religious objects so much and this one in particular is going to get much love. Also, I think it might be haunted because I keep seeing it flash before my eyes when I’m at work. Is that normal.

2. Proper Soft-Serve

I guess I’m just over the SUGAR & SPICE episode where that dumb bitch refused to serve me sprinkles because when the kind young girl at Punk’s batted nary a lash when I asked for not sprinkles but the heavier CRUNCHIES on my pistachio soft serve last Sunday, I felt like I won a small victory for soft serve embellishments all over the world. No one should be denied their God-given right to dress a fucking ice cream cone with sprinkles.

There was a lady in line behind us who leaned forward and asked, “Excuse me, but what are those crunchies exactly?” Henry and I were just like, “You know…crunchy things” and the ice cream server said it was like crushed peanut brittle (negative). I enthusiastically encouraged the broad to try some for herself and she made it sound like she was going to, but I watched her as she walked back to her car with her CRUNCHIE-LESS ICE CREAM. My heart was busted.

3. Thursdays with Judy

Chooch is done with camp which means we’re back to having Henry’s mom here as basically a live-in nanny. She was in rare form last night though because the church across the street is currently in the throes of the lamest carnival of all time, but it’s appealing to old people and kids who don’t know any better. Chooch likes it because it’s a chance for him to spend our money and pretend like he’s independent (it’s literally right across the street so I just half-heartedly wave to him, make sure he doesn’t get hit by a car when he crosses the street, and then go back to watching my MTV shows), plus he’s been seeing a lot of his friends over there too because I guess this is the current HOT SPOT in Brookline. Opening night was also DOO WOP night with DJ Daddy G and it was pretty much poppin’ off. I mean, you can’t play Under the Boardwalk without all the octogenarians groovin’ behind their rockers.

(Chooch is actually there again right now and I’m like WHAT IS SO GREAT ABOUT THIS CARNIVAL? There aren’t even any rides there?!)

ANYWAY. Judy was excited to go over with Chooch last night. Henry gave them money and we were like “Don’t spend it all in one place — OR ON JADEN.” Jaden is this dickhead kid that comes calling all the time and he looks away every time I’m around because Chooch told him I hate him and now he’s afraid of me, which is how it should be. I finally got to watch The Challenge finale (Johnny Bananas can eat a dick) so I was in a great mood by the time they came back around 9, and Judy was in an even BETTER mood. She had so much to tell us that I was like “Did they go to St.Pius or Reno?”

“Jaden said his mom was EXPLODING CHOOCH’S PHONE, what the hell does that mean?!” Judy cried. “And the PRIEST was looking for blackjack players! Then I thought I lost Markie and when I saw his grandfather walking toward me I thought OH NO HERE WE GO. [Hot Naybor] Chris and Ruthie came over too, so I talked to them for a little bit. RUTHIE leaves for MEXICO next week. Markie’s grandma has an ULCER on her FOOT and is in the nursing home now. She’s doing OK, but yeah she’s in a nursing home.”

All this, at the St. Pius Carnival.

She was pissed though because she wanted to play Bingo but I guess that was when she lost Markie, who isn’t even her responsibility, just some neighborhood kid whose grandfather ditched him and Judy got saddled with him, so she felt like she had to look for him instead? I would have been like, “I have no idea what kid you’re talking about.”

Chooch won a poop emoji thing.

So then Judy sat down in my wheelchair and somehow we got on the topic of ho my life sucks and I just poured out my heart, just kept talking and talking, and I had no idea how badly I needed to do that. To just TALK without having my feelings minimized. And Judy kept it REAL, man. She dished out heaping spoonfuls of advice and suggested that I go and talk to that priest who did Sharon’s memorial because fuck a therapist, right? Maybe I’ll do that. Probably not, but it makes me feel good to know that it’s an option, and that Judy gives a shit. Sometimes it feels like I don’t have the right to be hurting, so I try to keep it all internalized. But Judy just sat there and listened and cared about what I had to say and fuck, I needed that.

And then she started ranting about how much she hates Jerry O’Connell, remakes of classic movies, and asked Henry if he was there when they were all watching Roots or was that when he was IN THE SERVICE and I was like, “Motherfuck, this is the best casual work night ever.”

4. POP GOES THE WEASEL

This morning, Amber2 walked past me, singing “Pop Goes the Weasel” because that’s what happens when you have baby. But it reminded me of this “rap” song that was mildly popular around 1992 and Amber and Todd were like, “No, sorry we don’t remember the rap song that you just made up in your head” but then I found the video on YouTube and now Amber wants to buy a sweatsuit and probably already made it her new ring tone.

5. The Olympics, duh!

I’m so excited to start hating random countries for really obscure reasons and hopefully getting some BELA KAROLYI SIGHTINGS!!! I love him so much that in addition to making a t-shirt with his face on it, I even painted a picture of him which is hanging on my wall and literally no one who comes to my house every asks about it because they know it’s probably a can of worms waiting to be opened.

OK, my brain is tired and I would like to enjoy the opening ceremonies since I was working LATE SHIFT during the last Olympic opening ceremonies and missed out on all the MAGIC.

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Throwback to yesterday when I was on my lunch break and Henry called and was all “Chooch is down there on the North Shore, kayaking” (because: summer camp) and I was clear on the other side of town, but I RAN in the 89 degree heat all the way to the dumb kayaking thing, I even JAYWALKED which I’m a firm disbeliever in; once I got close enough to the river (an entire section of the river walk was closed up so I looked like a tourist trying to find her way ugh), I creeped on all the kids with my bad eyesight but couldn’t seem to find Chooch and also didn’t have much time left so I walked back to work sopping in sweat, and sent him this picture of the river. 

“I tried to find you:(” I texted. 

“I didn’t go kayaking today. That was yesterday,” he replied. 

I mean, I’m sure it would have been pretty anticlimactic even if he had been there because what would happen really? I would blow exaggerated kisses to him and he would tell the other kids I’ve never seen that broad before in my life and then we would all go on with our lives. 

And maybe that would have happened – ON TUESDAY.

Get fucked, Henry.