It was after 2pm by the time we were done being dummies at Vent Haven, which means we were precariously close to The Witching Bitching Hour, otherwise known as the hunger twilight, where Chooch and I morph from adorably angelic sweethearts into Regan and Damian in Warped Tour shirts.

Henry had approximately 37 minutes to find us a place to eat before the transformation was complete.

Back when Christina and I were friends, I used to visit her pretty frequently in Hamilton, OH, which is a few miles outside of Cincinnati. Since it was kind of on our way home, I suggested that we eat at Hyde’s, a family restaurant she took me to several times. I remembered liking the aesthetic and the pie, and was prepared to throw a fit if Henry said no, but then something miraculous happened:

Henry’s old SERVICE roommate Tim contacted him because he saw on Facebook that we were in the area! This put Henry in a great mood and he said YES to Hyde’s because now we needed to kill time in order for Tim to come out to meet us from wherever he lived in Indiana which is apparently close to Hamilton, who knew? (People who look at maps, I guess.)

Tim called Henry shortly after we arrived at Hyde’s. Henry jumped out of the booth and went outside to answer it; I’ve never seen Henry run out of a restaurant that fast in my life, not even the time he dined and dashed at HOOTERS in 1992.

(Probably true?)

So then Mr. WE GOTTA GET HOME, NO MORE STOPPING! decided that after lunch, we would be meeting TIM at Jungle Jim’s!

Holy shit, I was so so excited, I could barely eat. Just kidding, I almost accidentally ate my hand while shoving my grilled cheese into my gnashing maw.

We had a really colorful waitress too who made sure she told us how busy she was every time she swung by our table, and I really liked that Real Talk aspect. I want to believe that we were the only table she confided in. I kept hoping she would talk shit on her other tables to us but she never did.

She probably made fun of me to her other tables though after I was a total tourist and asked WTF “sarasotas” are.

Turns out they’re just homemade potato chips served with BBQ sauce.

“That Yinzer bitch over there asked what them sarasotas is, can you imagine,” she probably said to the table of old bitches who came in for pie.

Chooch of course substituted a basket of sarasotas for his fries and Henry was very perplexed by this.

“Why don’t they just call them homemade chips with BBQ sauce, I don’t understand,” he said.

SO GIDDY.

One thing to note is that I honestly don’t recognize any of the scenery in Hamilton, for as many times as I have been there. Like, if you set me loose and said, “Find Christina’s old house or die” well I guess I’m dead. I don’t even remember the name of the street, and I used to mail her shit all of the time!

I think this is my mind’s way of protecting me, lol.

On the way there, Henry and Chooch argued over the fact that meth and methane aren’t the same.

So nothing about Jungle Jim’s was familiar to me but who cares because a REAL LIFE PIECE OF HENRY’S SERVICE PAST WAS THERE.

OMG you guys. My mind almost melted.

Chooch took these pictures because he’s my little spy in training.

Unfortunately, Tim and Henry talked about kind of boring things, mostly just catching each other up on their current lives. So Chooch and I were like, “Eh, screw this” and walked ahead of them, looking for the Romania aisle.

I never grocery shop, but Jungle Jim’s is huge and full of weird international goods and animatronics. It’s like Chuck E. Cheese for grocery shoppers. This is where I bought my first and only durian in 2004!

NEVER AGAIN!

The last time I was here was August of 2005, when I was about 65% sure I might be pregnant. There was a fortune teller thing there, so I inserted my quarter and asked, “Hey, am I pregnant? Because I mean, I just turned down ice cream in favor of mustard, so….”

I don’t remember when her prediction was, which shot out of a slot at me, but GUESS WHAT I was definitely pregnant. Technically, this was Chooch’s second time at Jungle Jim’s, I guess.

My favorite thing about Tim is that he chided Henry about not marrying me so TIM, YOU CAN STAY.

****

Here’s a quick Henry Interview!

What did you & Tim used to talk about at night when you were roommates? GIRL STUFF?

Henry: I don’t remember. It was 30 years ago. Literally, 30 years ago.

So, you and Tim lived together in that place in Indiana?

Henry: In the trailer? Yeah.

Did he know you were the town Eunuch?

Henry, sarcastically I think: Hahaha, oh my god, you’re hilarious.

Did he know you were obsessed with being Erik Estrada back then?

Henry: Just answer it yourself. I’m not answering that. You’re making shit up as always.

Hmm, I don’t know Henry. That picture tells a different story. Speaking of stories, I heard you and Tim talking about the time you drove some guy’s car into a ditch. Talk about that.

Henry: It was 1986 maybe? We had just gotten off work at 7:30 that morning and went to the bar. We (guys I worked with, there was maybe 4 or 5 of us) pretty much drank all day. I had to run home to get something* so I borrowed Joe’s car and when I got close to my house I turned the corner too sharp and went into a small ditch on the side of the road. I blew out the tire and bent the rim and then I parked it at my house, took my car back to the bar without telling him I did anything to his. He didn’t find out until the next day when he came to pick it up and he found out it was damaged so I had to pay for it.

*(Probz porn to trade.)

Good, that’s what happens WHEN YOU DRIVE DRUNK, ASSHOLE. Anyway, that was a boring story. Did you ever take a bullet for Tim?!

Henry, in an annoyed/laughing tone: No. Psh, take a bullet for Tim….

What is your most vivid memory of Tim? Was he in Panama with you?

Henry: He was always working on his car because it seemed to always be broken. I don’t remember [if he was in Panama], I don’t think so but I can’t be sure. It’s possible.

(WOW. SOME FRIENDSHIP.)

Was Tim with you when you went to see CHEAP TRICK in Texas?!

Henry, appalled at this question for some reason: No! That was when I was in training, when I just got out of basic. Tim didn’t come in until my last year maybe…

(So, right before he went AWOL.)

Henry just said he’s not going to divulge the contents of their Jungle Jim’s convo, so basically this was a huge waste of time.

****

Somewhere outside of Columbus, I was imitating Henry so intensely, that Chooch laughed so hard he pissed his pants, which just made Henry even angrier because now he was going to have to stop somewhere so Chooch could change.

“We’re never going to fucking get home. Thanks a lot, assholes,” Henry barked, which just made Chooch and me bust out our sides from all the laughter.

****

When Henry set the GPS that morning as we left our hotel in Louisville, it told us we’d be getting home sometime around 4.

We got home just shy of midnight.

Good god, that was a fun whirlwind trip to Kentucky.

As soon as I saw a museum of dummies listed on Roadside America, my heart sang, “This is the place for us, Erin Rachelle Kelly!” I was ready to get lost in the bowels of a ventriloquist’s wet dream.

[Insert joke about why Henry would want to pay to see dummies when he’s with two of them for free every day.]

After killing an hour in Fort Mitchell, we rolled up to Vent Haven about ten minutes early. The curator was outside and waved to us, so we got out of the car, and tentatively approached the property.

“Are you the one who just called today?” the curator asked, after introducing herself as Lisa. I said yes, that was me, and she told me that she almost never has an opening the day-of. “So this is almost like winning the lottery!” she laughed, and I could tell Henry was vehemently disagreeing to himself.

Right when I was panicking about having The Small Talk, another group arrived. This alleviated some of the pressure from us (because Henry damn well wasn’t going to be talking — he was still annoyed that this was pushing back our arrival home!).

We all stood around outside in the yard while Lisa gave us a brief rundown of the history of the museum, which was started out of the home of W.S. Berger when he started collecting dummies in the 50s and eventually his collection grew so large that he ran out of room in his house and had to build auxiliary shed-like buildings in his backyard. Thus, Vent Haven was born, the only museum in the world dedicated to the art of ventriloquism!

“When people see that it’s by appointment only, they think this is some pretentious museum, but I’m the ONLY EMPLOYEE!” she stressed. “I can’t give a tour if I’m at Kroger’s! I need to know when people are coming to my house,” she laughed. Because, you know, she actually lives there too. And it’s funny that she mentioned that because Henry totally groaned when I mentioned that I had to call ahead because I’m sure he had visions of a stuffy exhibit full of stern-looking elderly people popping Werther’s Originals while an unamused curator monotoned facts around accusatory stares.

(Honestly, I always feel like they think I’m up to something!)

The more Lisa talked, the more I loved her. She was the antithesis of what you’d expect from a roadside tour guide: she was hilarious without being cheesy, informative without being boring, and her genuine enthusiasm for ventriloquism was contagious. Within minutes, Henry was smiling and laughing. The exact opposite of when we went on the Williamsburg ghost tour!

While waiting for the last group to arrive, she talked a bit about the psychological reasons why a lot of people are scared of dummies, or dolls of any sort.

“But really, even if they were all going to spring to life and come after you, why would you be afraid of something so small? They’re like the size of toddlers, just kick ’em, you know?” and then to Chooch she hurriedly explained, “I mean, I wouldn’t really kick a toddler…well, you know what I mean.”

I looked at Henry and mouthed, “I.LOVE.HER.”

At exactly 1:00, she interrupted herself and said, “Well, it’s 1. I’m not waiting for them. Let’s go inside and get started.”

ANOTHER REASON TO LOVE HER.

I can’t post the majority of the pictures I took, because of copyright reasons, but there were some photo ops that Lisa gave us permission to share on social media, so that’s what you’ll see here. So just imagine walking into a small building and being met with hundreds of dead, ogling eyes.

IT WAS EXHILARATING.

I’m not scared of this stuff at all. I mean, I collect clowns and have a mannequin that I use as a Christmas tree—I think I’m relatively immune. But it was admittedly slightly overwhelming at first—the collection is just crazy! Vent Haven is up to 900 now, but not all of them are displayed. Lisa actually had just received a literal carful of presidential dummies (from JFK to Dubya) earlier that week but hadn’t yet built a display for them.

That’s the other thing about Lisa: not only does she know her shit (one of the people in our group pointed to a random dummy and Lisa dove right in, regaling us with its colorful history), she is the sole creator of the displays and exhibits. “I just really love my job,” she said several times during the tour. It really showed.

And when I pointed out that one of the dolls reminded me of Lady Elaine from Mr. Rogers, Lisa looked at me strangely and said, “You’re not old enough to know Mr. Rogers! I grew up with Mr. Rogers!”

Kentucky, I love you. You make me feel young!

(And standing next to Henry helps, too.)

The last couple finally did arrive and as Lisa watched them get out of the car, she promised she wouldn’t shame them. “I’m an Army brat, can you tell? My dad made sure we were always on time.”

“My dad always made me late to everything when I was a kid, so now I make sure I’m always on time!” I blurted out, wanting nothing more than for Lisa to like me. Henry just rolled his eyes. He hates it when Suck Up Erin makes an appearance.

A little bit later, Henry got to steal my thunder when Lisa asked, “Does anyone recognize these famous ventriloquists?” She pointed to three separate b&w photos on the wall. All men in old b&w photos look the same to me so I gave up after 1.6 seconds.

“Hmmmm….Johnny Carson,” Henry said, pointing to the young guy in the middle.

“Yep!” Lisa said happily. “A lot of people didn’t know he was a ventriloquist.” She told us that puppets and dummies were recurring characters on The Tonight Show during his tenure, but when Leno took over, they ever appeared again because he hated ventriloquism.

As if I needed another reason to hate Leno.

Henry studied the pictures a little harder and, with a hint from Lisa, he was able to also guess Ted Knight. No one got the third one — DON KNOTTS. Too bad, so sad, Henry. You’re not that great.

(Honestly, though you should have seen how happy he was to know things.)

Then we got to go outside and play around with three demo dummies that Lisa keeps on hand. We were allowed to take pictures of them, and Lisa even took a picture of Chooch to put on Vent Haven’s Facebook page.

(He acted like a little teenaged shit about it, but that kid was secretly enthralled by this place. I know this because he was enrapt every time I looked at him and he never once asked to use my phone.)

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The wife-portion of the couple who arrived late told Lisa that she had a dummy when she was a kid, but she’s not sure what her parents ended up doing with it.

“I haven’t seen it in years,” she said. “I have no idea where it went.”

“Maybe it’s here!” I said, clearly as a joke, but she very curtly said, “It’s not. I looked.”

OH OK. This is why I don’t talk to people!

After playing around with the dummies, Lisa took us into another building, where we learned about Harry Lester; the most successful vaudevillian of all time (not just in ventriloquy!) who was basically penniless when he died; and Paul Winchell, who was also the voice of Gargamel on The Smurfs and as soon as Lisa said that, I could picture his name in the opening credits! We talked about Edgar Bergan of course (he was really the only famous ventriloquist I had heard of going into this) and Shari Lewis, and then Henry got to go to the head of the class again when he knew that Wayland Flowers and Madame replaced Paul Lynde as the center square on Hollywood Squares.

Something he can control!

You guys, Vent Haven brought out a side of Henry that I never knew existed.

There was a section on Jeff Dunham here too. Apparently, he is very generous with the museum and donates a lot of his old props, etc. This is where Chooch’s interest was really piqued.  Lisa played a clip of one of Jeff’s Ahmed routines and Chooch, being right on that apathetic cusp of teenagedom, acted like he wasn’t impressed, but I could see his mind reeling.

There was one last building to visit, with even more dummies. It doubled as the gift shop and Henry’s good mood started to shift when he heard me tell Lisa that I wanted a magnet and her book and sure Chooch, you can get that Jeff Dunham hand-puppet set. Henry hates souvenirs.

Lisa was so flattered that I wanted to buy her book. But she was so entertaining and knowledgeable! There were numerous dummies throughout Vent Haven that had signs which said “I’m in the book!” so of course, I had to buy it. I had to stop myself from gushing my way to a restraining order, but I just really wanted Lisa to know that I was obsessed with her in all of the good ways.

“You’re seriously the best tour guide we ever had,” I said all breathily as she wrote up an invoice for the admission fees and our souvenirs. I could sense Henry’s cringe all the way on the opposite side of the room. But Lisa took it well!

Chooch wants everyone to know that the 90 minutes we spent there got him into Jeff Dunham (he watched YouTube videos of his performances on Henry’s phone almost the whole car ride back to Pittsburgh) and he is trying to learn how to throw his voice now. I can’t tell you how many times this past week we’ve talked about the things we learned on that small, unassuming residential lane in Fort Mitchell, KY.

Oh, and he also wants everyone to know that Henry had a crush on ANGELICA, the main person from the second group who joined us, and that he kept looking at her ass.

If you ever find yourself in the Louisville/Cincinnati area, I highly encourage you to call up Vent Haven and take a tour. Go not just for the dummies, but for Lisa’s biting humor and delightful stories. She’ll make a dummy-lover out of you!

“That was fucking awesome, admit it, Henry,” I squealed as we drove away.

With just a hint of a smile, he quietly said, “Yeah. It was pretty awesome.” Ladies and gentlemen, I think Henry had a little bit of fun amongst dummies.

I mean, 90 minutes where all three of us were equally entertained and enjoying ourselves? Lisa was right: it really was like winning the lottery!

Saturday:

Henry had to work on Saturday, so Chooch and I were left to our own devices. We spun some records and I curled his hair. I can’t believe he let me curl his hair.

Then he made fun of me because I sent Al from Basement a birthday snap and HE REPLIED and I was all goo goo-ga ga over this because I’m 16.

Maybe younger.

And then I found my favorite Cure t-shirt that I thought was gone forever, eaten by the trolls that live in the deep depths of my dresser drawers. Turns out I’m just really bad at looking for things.

Then Chooch and I were loose around Brookline for a while when we went for a walk. He was supposed to meet his friend at some lame gaming place but when you let two 5th graders make their own plans….

Let’s just say that our walk was all for naught and they ended up hanging out much later in the afternoon.

Surprisingly, we didn’t fight about it.

Oh!!! And I made him scrambled eggs too! I’m getting better at faking this mom act.

We had an early dinner at Frank & Shirleys. You can tell it was early because check out that table of Olds behind Henry!

The lady in the green kept staring at Chooch the whole time we were there, and not in an amicable, cuddly grandma way, either.

Major Burnt Offering vibes. 

Shocker: Chooch and I both had grilled cheese. It was mildly satisfying.

Came home and watched The Forest. It was only OK but I still cried. 

Sunday:

The day started with a Beatles song on the radio reminding me of the critically-acclaimed Tony Danza/Amy Dolenz movie “She’s Out of Control,” which I saw with my friend Spring at the Maxi-Saver theater, when it was like brand new, probably. This then reminded me of the era of my childhood where I used to pull a chair from the kitchen table over to the counter in order to watch my shows because the rest of my family monopolized the good TV. One of those shows was DARK SHADOWS, the short-lived early 90s remake, with MICHAEL T WEISS. 

From here, I learned that Henry doesn’t remember when MICHAEL T WEISS played DR MIKE HORTON on DAYS OF OUR LIVES so I got (some might say irrationally) angry at him. 

#POWERHOUSE

You should know that Henry just loves when I drag him along on these nostalgic drives through my childhood. 

Especially when I can also tell him exactly what I was wearing during certain events. 

(I don’t remember what I wore to see “She’s Out of Control,” though, but I remember it gave me hope that someday I too would get my braces off and suddenly not be an ugly duckling anymore. Eh….that never really happened. I got my braces off eventually, at least, but that didn’t bring all the boys to my yard.)

(Maybe a few.)

I found the Cure shirt I bought at their Maryland show in June, which I’ve only worn ONCE, and I was excited to wear it today especially once I realized my idiot nail polish matched it. 

Then I started tearing up on the couch and Henry asked why I was crying. 

“I was just thinking about how much I love Jennifer Aniston,” I answered wistfully, and he was mad. 

Around 11, we drove to Valencia, wherever that is, for some long overdue hangs with Tommy & Jessy! I read the Pretty Little Liars wiki the whole way there, specifically the one about TOBY CAVANAUGH and was surprised at how much I forgot. 

At one point, Henry asked me what I was reading and then mumbled, “oh my god” when I told him. He’s just salty because I watched the last season without him. 

We met at the Bloom Cafe, part of Quality Gardens, where we all had lunch but Henry, who had feasted on a bag of soft pretzels en route to Valencia, opted for a scoop of ice cream instead. 

Because Henry is an adult and he does what he wants. Be like Henry, eat ice cream for lunch. 

Bromance rekindled!

Matching mouths. 

Chooch has ice cream too, but only after he finished his lunch. 

BECAUSE CHOOCH IS RESPONSIBLE. 

After overstaying our welcome inside the Bloom Cafe, we moseyed around inside the greenhouse and I lamented the fact that I couldn’t buy any plant beauties because my cats are dicks. 

Tommy, Jessy, and I all wanted ice cream after that so we drove down the road to Hammer’s and I was excited because I’ve never been there and you know me and ice cream joints. GOTTA TRY ‘EM ALL. 

The flavor of the day was butterscotch! I love butterscotch! I bet those old broads at Frank & Shirley’s do too!

Fucking Henry decided to severely abuse his power as an adult and had ANOTHER ICE CREAM. 

Unbelievable. 

And the worst part was that he ordered the same fucking thing as me so I couldn’t swap with him if I didn’t like mine. 

Well played, asshole. 

Chooch was like, “uh….no, I’m good” when Henry asked him if he wanted anything because Chooch is not foolish enough to eat Second Ice Cream. 

Chooch is nutritionally responsible. 

(God, that’s such a joke but in this case he really was.)

It was a really nice way to spend a Sunday afternoon, for sure. Beautiful company, beautiful weather!

Plus I got to take pictures of my ice cream cone and you know how much I love that, basic blogger that I am. 

This is going to be surprising, but Henry did not have ice cream for dinner. I don’t think he had anything for dinner, actually. But I did and that’s all that matters!

Originally, I planned on bookending the weekend with another horror movie, but instead, I’ve spent the whole evening watching 9/11 news specials, which is scarier than any horror movie I could be watching. I will never not cry over 9/11 and as horrific and tragic as it was, it feels so necessary to me to face it every year and mourn all over again. It’s the true American Horror Story. I will never forget where I was, and who I immediately wanted to be with when news broke: I wanted to be with Henry. 

The same Henry who just shook his head and asked, “Why do you torture yourself with this?”

BECAUSE IT HAPPENED AND WE SHOULD NEVER FORGET. 

If you ask Henry, our drive home from Louisville last Sunday was: long, annoying, awful, terrible, headache-inducing, frustrating, expensive.

If you ask me, it was: SO MUCH FUN OMG WE DID ALL THE THINGS!

Before saying goodbye to Louisville, we stopped for breakfast at For Goodness Crepes. Chooch had been craving crepes recently, god only knows why, so we figured we would be nice parents and find a creperie since we usually force him to eat at places that make him miserable.

LOL j/k I wanted crepes too and thought this place had a cute name and that’s all that matters.

As soon as we walked in, I knew I was going to love it because it wasn’t stuffed with people. Crowded breakfast spots make me so anxious – the AM is way too early for me to voluntarily deal with crowds. No breakfast is worth that, sorry not even Pamela’s and I LOVE PAMELA’S.

(Seriously though, come visit me in Pittsburgh and we will go to Pamela’s during an off-hour and you can have the greatest pancakes of your life. AND LYONAISSE POTATOES.)

But anyway, this is about Louisville, not Pittsburgh. I’m not sure what the “best place” for breakfast is considered because I never research those things beforehand, but I was extremely pleased with our experience at this crepe place. I ordered from the savory menu, something called I Dream of Veggies; it was Asian-inspired and had this glorious ginger mayo-type sauce that I would honestly do a shot of right now if placed in front of me, no fucks given. OMG and edamame. I love edamame. This crepe was the limit.

Chooch got the cinnamon roll crepe and of course I stole several bites — it was like a carnival on my tongue. An actual cinnamon roll was deconstructed inside there, I think, and the cream cheese sauce was so sweet and tangy….take me back. Take me back right now.

Who cares what Henry got. Meat crepe.

Oh also! After we ordered at the counter, I got to pick my own coffee cup! I chose one shaped like a vintage Santa Claus and was stupdily excited about it.

We played Hangman while we waited for our crepes and it was Big Fun – I love when restaurants provide games. I literally only looked at my phone when I was using it to take pictures, and that’s how it should be when you’re eating with your family!

(I’m sorry, I know a lot of people lump in “taking pictures” as well, but I honetsly take pictures constantly. I love taking pictures, and I love having picture mementos of each day. It’s important to me, as a chronic memory hoarder. I love collecting snaps!)

During Hangman, one of my words was “hyperbole.”

“What even is that?” Chooch asked after no one guessed it.

“Um,” I started, trying to think of the best way to explaing it. “…my blog.”

“Your mom’s whole life,” Henry muttered.

Chooch’s message to Louisville.

At first, I thought Chooch made this one up too and I was like, “OMG MY SON IS A PRODIGY! WHAT A GODDAMN GENIUS! THE NEXT GREAT AMERICAN POET!” But then he was like, “No it was already there, I was just showing it to you.”

Great. Back to having a basic 5th grader.

It was sad leaving Louisville without really getting a chance to see it (although we did accidentally go over the same bridge to Indiana like 8x during our stage, so that’s one thing we became pretty acquainted with) so now I want to go back again for a full weekend, when there isn’t a show to go to, because on our way out I saw A LOT of antique stores. In spite of Henry’s valiant efforts to distract me.

Originally, we were going to go to some cavern (Lost Caves, I think? Too lazy to look it up, thorough and informative blogger that I am) but Henry was like, ‘THIS IS IN THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE DIRECTION OF WHERE WE NEED TO GO. WHY CAN’T YOU LEARN TO READ A MAP, I DON’T UNDERSTAND.” God, sorry to be such a navigational piece of shit, Henry. Go fuck a compass.

I had a back-up plan though, but I was sure he wasn’t going to go for it.

My back-up plan was a VENTRILOQUIST MUSEUM in Fort Mitchell, KY, right outside of Cincinnati.

I kind of just mumbled it.

Henry got real tense behind the wheel and sighed.

“Never mind. You won’t want to go there,” I said in my soft, sad voice, just one whimper shy of reaching full-blown Sally Struthers level.

“It’s probably not even open on Sundays,” Henry said in a tone that sounded to me like he was trying to will it not to be open.

I checked Roadside America.

“It says it’s open on Sundays from May through September!” I squealed. And then, “Oh. ‘By appointment only.'”

So Henry was all, “Yeah sure whatever, go on and call.” Probably because he thought there was no way in hell that someone was going to answer.

But someone did! A woman! I asked her how far in advance appointments needed to be made and she said usually 2 days, but then she paused and said, “Although….how many do you have in your party? I might be able to squeeze you in with my 1:00pm group.”

I told her three and she said that would be no problem! And she took my name! And said she would see me at 1!!

I was so stoked! But then I hung up and noticed that Henry was staring at me in the way that he does when he’s ready to burst into Flames of Madness and wants to take me down into the ashes with him. 

“So….we have an appointment for today! But….it’s not until 1…..”

It was only a little after 11:00am and we were mere minutes away from Fort Mitchell. Henry had plans on us being home that day by 4 and now this was definitely not going to happen if we were still going to be in Kentucky until at least 2pm at this point. 

So I started doing that thing I do where I get real pouty and repeatedly wail, “JUST FORGET IT!” and make him feel like he’s the worst person in the world when he hasn’t even said no yet.

“DO YOU WANT TO GO THERE OR NOT?!” he yelled, yanking the steering wheel and driving the car onto the exit for Fort Mitchell without even waiting for me to answer because after 15 years, he knows how these games end: with probably some crocodile tears and definitely me getting my way.

So now we had an hour + to kill in some small town in Kentucky.

Obviously, we went to a cemetery, where at first I was still being a baby and said I was just “GOING TO SIT IN THE CAR AND DIE” while they were like, “K have fun” and left me there with the windows up.

And then when I finally got out of the car, I set the car alarm off because our car is dumb so then Henry and Chooch knew that I wasn’t wallowing anymore, ugh.

OUR LITTLE ANGEL.

Oh, I just remembered why I was pouting in the car! I wanted to take a picture of Chooch holding the Artifex Pereo screenprint that he had signed at the show, but his posing and posture wasn’t up to my standards so I shrieked, “JUST FORGET IT!” and if I die first, is that what Henry will use for my epitaph?

DEEP THOUGHTS.

Henry found one of those things he used to smoke when he was a kid and I tried to act like I didn’t care because I was still in Miserable Bitch mode, but then I broke down and took a picture.

Sometimes you just gotta let my mood swings play out, guys. I’ll come back around eventually.

(And then I wonder why barely anyone is close to me, lol.)

We still had time to kill, plus Chooch and I had to pee, so we went to Krogers across the street and walked around like we have never been to a grocery store before and then I flipped out because some girl was handing out samples of cheese TOOTHPICKED ONTO MEAT so of course I gave her a huffy “No!” when she offered one to me. 

“Maybe it’s because it’s the meat they’re trying to get you to buy,” Henry suggested around a mouthful of THE ENEMY’S CHEESE SAMPLE, always the Devil’s advocate.

“NO, IT WAS THE CHEESE. SHE CLEARLY SAID DO YOU WANT TO TRY BLAHBLAH CHEESE?!” I barked, so mad that my rage had erased the memory of what kind of cheese was causing me to launch missiles of protest in the first place. 

“Well, you could ask for a sample of just the cheese,” Henry said. Like, oh OK, let me do this broad’s job for her.

“She should have samples of JUST CHEESE already available, because guess what, NOT EVERYONE LIKES MEAT, god forbid!” I cried, deep in the throes of my scheduled Sunday Shit Fit. There was no turning back now. I hated Kroger’s.

I then proceeded to spend the next twenty minutes bitching about it in a passive aggressive manner, as I’m prone to do, hoping that the right Kroger employee would hear me and publicly flog the cheese-sample meater-upper.

Instead, I just loudly said, “I GUESS I WILL JUST HAVE TO WRITE A LETTER!”

“Literally no one is going to care,” Henry sighed. “And also, that girl wasn’t even a Kroger employee, probably.”

This could be true. Janna had a short-lived job handing out samples of peppers or condoms or pepper condoms at Giant Eagle, and it was some temp agency that got her the gig.

Then Kroger’s can just forward my complaint on to her true employer!

Dumb bitch!

OK, that’s enough for this installment. Tune in later to read all about the most amazing museum, Vent Haven. That place still feels like a dream to me.

Dreamy sighs and eyelash bats,

Erin Rachelle, Dummy Lover.

The entire purpose of our trip to Louisville last weekend was to see Artifex Pereo at their hometown CD release show. I know, seems like a long way to go to see one band, but Pittsburgh was once again not on their tour route, and they’re on the short list of bands I adore enough travel for.  This is one of the few bands I like that Henry also likes, so I only had to beg him a little bit to take me.

And also Chooch, because he pretty much just goes to all the shows now.

The doors weren’t open yet when our boring Lyft driver deposited us along the curb, so we had to wait a bit outside. This is usually the time I start to feel like a bad parent for bringing a 10-year-old to a bar/club. People kept looking at him and I was like DON’T JUDGE US but then some of the guys from Artifex walked past and high-fived Chooch, so everyone in line was like, “Aw.” And then we suddenly became cool.

(Chooch got to meet Artifex when we went to Bled Fest last May and I still have The Resentment over it!)

There were no advanced tickets, so I panicked about this and posted on the Facebook event page, asking if they anticipated it to sell out, because if we were driving all that way from Pittsburgh, I wanted to make sure we were getting in! Cory, the drummer, messaged me his phone number and told me that if we had any problems, to give him a call and he’d make sure we got in. As if I didn’t already love them enough!

Luckily, we got there early enough that we didn’t have any problems, but that place filled up FAST so who knows if we would have been turned away had we arrived late. People came out in droves to support their friends in all the bands playing that night (3 out of 4 were from Louisville) and it was really beautiful to see! This was one of the main reasons I wanted to be there that night – hometown shows are just so exciting, intimate, and full of energy. I wanted in on that.

It was $5 to get in, but Highroller Henry only had a hundred dollar bill on him (“I would have had the exact amount if some asshole hadn’t made me tour a castle today,” he mumbled) and I was so embarrassed/annoyed that now he was going to hold up the line while the doorman checked to make sure that the bill was legit and then slowly counted Henry’s change. But what took even longer was the doorman’s suspended disbelief that I was over 21. BLESS YOU, SIR. (To be fair, it was dark in there so the circles under my eyes were camouflaged and my gray hairs blended into the shadows; also I always look much younger when Henry’s at my side, lol-forever).

We found a bar table in a corner, perfect for Chooch, whose weary bones can’t handle long periods of standing. It’s tough being 10 years old in the year 2016. And since we took a Lyft there, Henry was giddy that he could drink beer. Which is exactly what he did and he was in the greatest mood ever, it was amazing. Let’s feed Henry beer more often.

Chooch was happy with his plastic cup of OJ.

Cory was over at the merch table, so Henry went over to say hello. I guess they’re like bros now since they talked at Bled Fest, so many ughs. Ughs for days. Ughs coming out the ass. When Henry came back, he was like, “You should go say hello to him. He’s so nice! He knows who you are, just do it.” And then he had to give me a literal push because I am SO WEIRD about talking to people in bands. I made Chooch go with me and of course it was all, “Riley is here! Good to see you!” LIVE IT UP NOW WHILE YOU CAN, CHOOCH. Pretty soon you will be old and average like the rest of us. Play that cute kid card as much as possible because time is waning!

(Whatever. Chooch will never be old and average.)

Anyway, Cory was super nice and I gladly gave him Henry’s money for merch. Holding their new CD in my hands a week before it was officially released was such a goddamn gift!

The room was really starting to fill up by the first band, Concealer, started to play. They’re also from Louisville so the crowd was super stoked on them and I liked them a lot too—the perfect Slushee of rock and emo. These guys were definitely in my wheelhouse.

It was really getting extremely hot in there. Henry and Chooch kept going outside, but I had to stay there and protect Chooch’s stupid seat because god forbid he might have to stand on those weak little legs of his.  I could honestly feel layers of my face sluicing off. I started to crave a razor so I could shear my hair. Get it off of me! IT WAS THAT HOT.

The next band was also local to Louisville, Ol’ Girl. “Is this like, the new thing now or something?” Henry yelled in my ear, because they’re an instrumental/prog rock-type band and he just doesn’t understand this genre.

(I just learned today that Wendy hates the word “genre” so now I’m going to use it as much as possible around her. Like next time I’m working on something here at the Law Firm, maybe I’ll ask her, “Hey Wendy, what GENRE OF LAW is this?”)

It’s not a “new thing” at all, but I think that there are just some really incredible up-and-coming ambassadors for this movement, which is why this type of music is getting more exposure lately, from Chon to Polyphia, Strawberry Girls, and even our local Pittsburghers in Save Us From the Archon. If your music is good, it’s good, you know? You don’t always need a vocalist to entertain a crowd.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BKE1Vvbg08o/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

Anyway, I really liked these guys, even though I couldn’t figure out their name was until much later when Lucas from Artifex Pereo said it on stage.

The third band was the Funeral Portrait. There wasn’t much of a crowd for them, I guess because they’re from Atlanta and most of the people there that night were out in support of Louisville’s best, so I was able to stand near the stage without the risk of passing out. Seriously, it was SO HOT up in that piece! I wasn’t even about to try to elbow my way closer to the stage during the first two bands. It was a solid wall of steaming hot humans in that room.

The Funeral Portrait was a bit heavier than the other bands, more screamier, and if you’re someone who abides by Alternative Press’s classifications of bands, then you can call them Theatricore I guess. They reminded me a bit of old My Chemical Romance. OLD My Chemical Romance, like pre-MTV Darlings MCR. Specifically the MCR song “Vampires Will Never Hurt You.” I remember hearing that song, and then seeing the video, for the first time somewhere around 2003 and being smitten.

So maybe the Funeral Portrait didn’t have quite that same effect on me, but they at least got my attention and made me want to buy a shirt (they have some really great designs and all about that funeral life).

He’s wearing the shirt of my people!

https://www.instagram.com/p/BKE08CEgVRq/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

Meanwhile, Chooch was falling asleep in his chair. It was a pretty late show, and I’m sure the mugginess in that room didn’t help keep his eyelids from crashing down.

“Some of the guys came over and asked him if he was going to make it,” Henry laughed, like he knows them so well now. Shut up, Henry.

We let him doze for a while and then Henry took him outside for a few minutes after Artifex started playing. I couldn’t stand there in the back any longer though, so I gathered up my purse and moved closer to the stage because I wanted to be all up in it, you know? I didn’t drive (Henry crazy in the car) for six hours just to stand in the back.

By this time though, every single person was pretty much in that room and I swear the air felt like it could be sliced and served on a plate. So thick, so m o i s t. My eyes were starting to sting from the sweat dripping off my forehead, but man — who cares. Even the lens on my phone was fogging up.

I need to just make up my own non-English words to explain the genuine feels that this band gives me when I see them live, because ye ol’ Webster’s is failing me here. Nothing is good enough! They make me feel like cotton candy is being churned inside my heart. Like tiny Andy Gibbs are stroking my ear drums with tiny velvet gloves. (Purple velvet, obviously.)

All three times I’ve seen them, the first thing I’ve said to Henry is, “I just can’t believe how GOOD they sound live!” Not that I go in expecting any band to sound terrible, or way off from the sound of their albums, but man — these guys are just masters at their craft. Their music is pure art. The first song of theirs I ever heard was “Hands of Penance” after their producer Kris Crummet posted a clip of it on Instagram — my kneejerk reaction was, “Who the hell is this band and when are they going on tour?!”

Making that drive was such a great decision because this show was was just brimming with good vibes and high energy—just the kind of environment I needed to be in. And Henry was in such a great mood, and Chooch was content, and it was just a really great night all around. No fighting!

The last song they played was Tied to the Sunset and the room just went apeshit:

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As soon as the show ended, I was dying to get outside into the cool evening air. My hair was drenched, all stuck to my neck and disgusting, but I had to go back to the merch area to get the screenprint that I bought before the show started; Cory said we could keep it there so it wouldn’t get destroyed during the show. I was excited because I got to meet Lucas finally but could barely muster anything greater than “I love you guys.” He thanked us for driving all that way and then we turned to leave. Right before we got to the door, Henry asked, “Why didn’t you ask him to sign this?” and I was like BECAUSE MY BRAIN IS MELTING IN THIS SAUNA, SORRY I DIDN’T THINK TO ASK.

Ugh!

So he and Chooch went back in to get it signed while I stumbled outside to the sidewalk, where it practically felt like December out there, that’s how shocking the temperature difference was from inside New Vintage. I stood out there by myself for what seemed like 30 minutes until the finally came back out, screenprint successfully full of Artifex Pereo signatures. Oh, Henry couldn’t wait to tell me about all the encounters Chooch had, how one of their girlfriends came up to him and asked, “Are you Riley? I’ve heard about you!”

ENJOY THESE MOMENTS, OH SON OF MINE.

Then some girl walked by, smiled at Henry and said, “Pretty cool dad!”

UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

^(^(%&$####@$%$#!!@#$^

The worst!!!

Ugh, whatever. I guess he is a pretty cool dad for driving us there. But I’m the one who likes the band more, lest anyone forget it!

Real talk, though: Henry is kind of the best for continuously catering to my insatiable concert appetite. And to be able to share these moments with my kid is a parenting dream.

And on that note, their new album was released today and everyone should go buy it because it’s such a gift for the ears, and they’re really sweet, genuine guys who deserve all the support they can get. Their art needs to be enjoyed by all, so spread the word!

Maybe some people think roadside attractions (a/k/a TOURIST TRAPS) are super tacky, but I just think that road trips would be remiss without stopping to see at least one giant rubberband ball. Henry is one of those people who finds limited, if any, joy in anything off the beaten path, so our travel days are usually full of lots of yelling, pouting, tires squealing, and hands punching the steering wheel.

I almost always get my way, though! And Henry will usually admit later that it “wasn’t bad.” Except for the cuckoo clock cluster. He was 100% not a fan of that side trip.

Loveland Castle has been on my radar for some time now and our travel day on Saturday was actually planned around a stop at its hallowed grounds.  This joint is nearly in the middle of nowhere, right outside of Cincinnati, down a concerning road that seems like it’s going to drop you straight into a river, until it suddenly turns and THERE IS THE CASTLE.

It’s much smaller than I anticipated, though I’m not sure what I was actually expecting — Neuschwanstein Castle? I mean, it’s just Ohio, after all. It was at least bigger than White Castle, so there’s that.

[Though, speaking of Germany — I kept seeing this shit called goetta on menus while we were in the area and it turns out it’s some kind of gross German breakfast meat product that’s a Cincinnati staple and  I’m like, how did I have a best friend from that area for like 6 years and she never mentioned goetta (not that I’d be interested in it because meat, but still) or took me to Loveland Castle?! Probably because she was too busy keeping me hidden in her bedroom like a DEAD BUTTERFLY NAILED TO A BOARD. You know what I mean. If not, just skip ahead.]

My initial thought was: this place is a clusterfuck. There was no order whatsoever! You walk in to some glorified gift shop and bump into people and then when the young guy at the counter fails to acknowledge you, you stand there with money in your hand until he finally asks, “How many adults and kids?” No ticket was administered, no hands were stamped — we could have probably just walked in and not even paid.

He didn’t even tell us where to start!! People were literally stumbling about like drunk lemmings.

The tour is self-guided. I hate self-guided tours. I need someone beating information into me. I can’t be trusted to stop and read plaques on walls, although at one point, we were passing back through the gift shop when some man in Loveland t-shirt stood up and gave those of us in the room a brief, yet wildly entertaining, history of the Castle. His name was Sir Dave and he had a great local flavor about him, if you know what I mean (do you know what I mean) and I wished so badly that he would just escort us through the whole damn Castle – it wasn’t that big!

He even managed to charm Henry, but I might just be mixing it up with the fact that he mentioned the SERVICE, at which point Henry adopted an “I’m listening” visage.

Sir Dave told us about the Castle’s builder, Sir Harry Delos Andrews, and how he became enamored with architecture when he was in Europe DURING THE WAR (he was a MEDIC). And so in the 1950-something, he started to build his own damn castle on the banks of the Little Miami River, using milk cartons filled with clay or something that I can’t be expected to remember, to make bricks. There are like over a million of them that make up the Castle. I think that’s what I heard somewhere.

Or dreamt.

Sir Harry was like a Boy Scout leader too or something and they helped him build the Castle. He called them the Knights of the Golden Trail.

I literally can’t imagine Chooch being a Boy Scout.

I almost fell down a stone staircase at one point and Chooch thought this was the funniest thing ever and then wanted me to reenact it later and I was like, “Who taught you to be such an assho—-oh. Never mind.”

YOU SHOULD KNOW WHAT KOGT STANDS FOR SINCE I WRITE SUCH INFORMATIVE TRAVEL GUIDES.

A bedroom cell.

There is something on this wall that I HATE. Bonus points if you can find it.

You can’t expect me to read all of these artifacts. I paid $5 and I wanted someone to tell me The Facts!

Queens of Roadside Attractions.

Chooch’s review: I thought Loveland Castle was cool and scary (not really) but it was scary that 2 drunk men came in and attacked Sir Harry and stole some weapons. Also I saw a white box with a Bee’s Nest inside so, YAY!!!

I want that lantern.

Sir Harry had an IQ of 189!

Here’s a picture of Henry learning how to build me a castle.

Sir Dave gave us a riddle, something about Sir Harry being pronounced dead in 1918 (I think?) and then died in 1981, and said we would have to watch the short documentary playing upstairs in one of the towers. So we watched it and it wasn’t really a riddle, but like….something that seriously happened? They thought he had died of spinal meningitis when he was IN THE SERVICE and declared him dead but then realized three days later that he wasn’t dead and had to give a shot of adrenaline to the heart, at which point he awoke and it turned out he had some kind of rare antibody in him or something, I quit paying attention once we got the answer.

These two assholes I travel with always act like every roadside attraction we stop at is the worst thing since I introduced Jonny Craig into their lives, but they later admitted that Loveland Castle was “pretty cool.”

Patriotic party hat!

Overall, I was glad that we made the detour. It only took about an hour to see it all (and that’s because we looped around it twice and then watched that 20 minute documentary too) and the history was juicy enough to make it worthwhile.  Anyway, if you’re into Boy Scouts; medieval things; and the possibility of tumbling down narrow, uneven, spiral stone staircases, then you should visit Loveland Castle.

(If you collect magnets like I do, prepare to be disappointed though. Their souvenir selection is sparse.)

(I think Henry secretly joined the KOGT when I wasn’t looking.)

(Also, I think I have a crush on Sir Dave?!)

****

Afterward, we ate lunch at Sugar & Spice, another place my ex-BFF never took me!

“Maybe it wasn’t around when you were friends,” Henry said, ALWAYS DEFENDING HER.

“It was established in 1942!” I cried, jabbing my finger at my Sugar & Spice coffee cup that said “EST. 1942.”

Ugh.

You know how much I love hockey (specifically the Penguins!), my friend Kaitlin (and her baked goods!), and fine OK also Barb and Wendy? Well, all of those things came together last Thursday when Kaitlin invited us to party with her and her husband Danny….AND THE STANLEY CUP! Danny is the assistant equipment manager for the Pens and it was his day with the Cup (because, ahem, the Penguins won it this year in case you missed it), so they planned a party at Cool Springs Sports Complex and it was so elite that we had to bring our invitations in order to be admitted. I was really excited about the part where the invitation only extended to those it was addressed to, so SEE YA LATER, HENRY.

Henry acted like he didn’t care. “I have to work anyway, so oh well.”

Yeah, so did I but I took the day off because I’m a true fan. Suck it, Henry.

Wendy brought Summer, who stole the show, as usual. It was hard to compete with her for Barb’s attention!

I mean….that’s cute. Even I have to admit that.

For a baby, she’s pretty laid back and I can respect that. I bond with her from a safe distance by rolling my eyes, and then smiling when no one is looking.

When we were standing in line, she dropped Wendy’s phone and I picked it up for her. Teamwork.

Also, Wendy made her pull my hair.

STOP. They tasted just as glorious as they looked, how do you do it, Kaitlin??

Ugh, look at all the baby ephemera strewn about our table. Way to go, Wendy! Meanwhile, Barb was rambling about how she’s so obsessed with money lately and I can’t remember the context but it made me crack up, as Barb-related things generally do. (I have a Snap of her in the background saying, “I’m so obsessed with money anymore, it’s pathetic.” It’s my new favorite Barb Quote.)

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A Zia Dessert table, which I’m sure was a big reason A LOT of people RSVP’d “yes” to this function. I really miss working with Kaitlin, but I have to tell you this: I’m like, 20 pounds lighter now that she doesn’t work at The Law Firm anymore. NOT SAYING THERE’S A CORRELATION THERE.

These Penguin gummies were super adorbs, but we swapped them out for another table’s Twix centerpiece.

Kaitlin mentioned that she felt really bad for not telling us we could have brought spouses/Henrys with us, but then she looked at me and said, “But I’m sure you loved rubbing Henry’s face in it!”

YES, YES I DID.

Kaitlin was in San Jose when they won the Stanley Cup and she got to go on the ice and in the locker room, and if I didn’t adore her so much, I would have been eaten alive by jealousy!

In a moment of bravery, Barb decided to lift the Cup. I was really afraid she was going to drop it and I cried out,”Barb no!” but then she opted to just gently tilt it instead.

“Wow, that thing is HEAVY,” she said after our photo op. I wonder how much time she spent thinking about how much it’s worth, since she’s so obsessed with money now.

So, that was my Thursday with Stanley! I will be forever grateful for Kaitlin including me in Danny’s special day!

Hi, hello, I’m here again with more Kennywood words and stuff because memories are like Pokémon to me and I GOTTA CATCH THEM ALL.

That made no sense. It’s the end of Labor Day weekend and I’m all tapped out. Just a few minutes ago, I called Florence & the Machine “Florence and the Hendersons” so that should tell you where my mind currently resides. Still, I’m going to power through this last Kennywood post because I love torturing myself and anyone out there on the Internet who might actually read this. Cringe away!

• The Aero360 used to be my favorite ride at Kennywood and I still love it but it doesn’t thrill me as much as it once did, especially when we sit there for 10 minutes while there is some sort of harness malfunction happening behind us and pearls of sweat are starting to dot my brow, but then we find out that it’s someone whose shoulders are too broad so it’s literally the person’s physique that’s malfunctioning and not the ride so I feel less anxious but still not too encouraged that we’re going to survive this thing. LUCKILY we had Sam assisting us and SAM was my favorite ride attendant of the day and Chooch didn’t understand why and I couldn’t find the words to explain it to him because he’s not yet reached Henry Levels of understanding me and my obsessions, for instance like tonight when Sandy alerted me to the existence of Ballet Zoom and I watched an hour’s worth of YouTube videos and then made them my cover photo on Facebook. Henry didn’t question this, but Chooch was like, “THE FUCK.”
  • We rode on it again later and there were three middle school girls in front of us in line and they were so fucking annoying because they were middle school girls, and one of them was talking about some airline conspiracy where airlines make sure that “no one ever survives a plane crash” because they don’t want to have to pay them money?! Even Chooch was like, “WTF Is this girl on, that’s the dumbest thing ever.” And I was like, “CAN WE STOP TALKING ABOUT PLANE CRASHES WHILE WAITING IN LINE TO GO ON SOMETHING THAT GOES UPSIDE DOWN PLEASE?!”
• One of the things I want to remember always is Chooch’s extreme madness at all the attention I was getting in nearly every line we stood in, from not only other people in line, BUT RIDE OPERATORS TOO. People loved my phone case, so that got a lot of smiles and compliments much to Chooch’s chagrin because he is SO JEALOUS OF MY BITCHIN’ ACCESSORIES, but what really got a shit ton of attention was my beloved Marcy tattoo. Most people just quickly complimented it as we passed each other in line, but one couple took it a step further and started asking me legit questions about it in line for the Kangaroo, which gave me the opportunity to pimp out the artist, Erin Hosfield, but also talk about MARCY. I wasn’t done talking about her but the dumb line started to move and we were in opposite queues so as we both started moving away from each other, I had to yell, “SHE WAS REAL MAJESTIC! SHE HATED EVERYONE!”

• Also in line for the Kangaroo, we were behind this lady and her two young boys and this lady was like so pissed that she was at Kennywood. Our first encounter with them was when we rolled up into line and the two boys were fighting over their water bottle and the one started kicking the other and the mom had basically no idea that this was going on because she was engrossed in her phone, and it wasn’t until they crashed into her that she snapped out of it and yelled, “WHAT ARE YOU FIGHTING ABOUT!?!?” and I thought to myself, “Well, I’ll tell you what they’re fighting about: Billy’s being a cunt and won’t share his water with his little brother” but she didn’t actually care about what they were fighting about, just that they disturbed her SCREEN TIME. For some reason, this was a really long wait and the entire time we had to stand there and watch her completely neglect her kids. The older one eventually started talking to Chooch about Pokémon Go and then the younger one got lost for a bit (I knew where he was but when Mom realized he had wandered away, it was pretty hilarious to watch the panic — he was literally only a few feet away, playing in some rocks), and the whole time I’m wondering what’s the point of bringing your kids to Kennywood if you’re not going to enjoy the time you’re spending with them. I mean, even Chooch noticed it. It was heartbreaking, especially when one of her friends walked over with her young daughter, and Kangaroo Mom adopted this super fake, saccharine voice while asking the little girl if she wanted to ride with her. The little girl did not, in fact, want to ride with her, because Billy probably tells her all kinds of stories about how shitty his cunt mom is.
  • Also, she was really annoyed when the people were asking me about my tattoo. I loved that part, though.
    • Chooch and I sat in the car behind her and exhibited joy that was extremely disproportionate to the ride we were on. I mean, the Kangaroo is mildly fun but we were screaming our dumb faces off and everyone in line was like, “…………………….”

• Standing in line for the Log Jammer, Chooch casually said, “Oh, that’s Johnny’s sister up there in line.” Using my hyper-accurate mom decoder ring, I cracked this message to read: I HAVE A CRUSH ON JOHNNY’S SISTER AND WANT TO ASK HER TO PLAY ROBLOX WITH ME OR MAYBE WATCH SHANE DAWSON VIDEOS ON YOUTUBE. So I started egging him on and he was getting really mad at me, I have no idea why, it’s not like I kept elbowing him and daring him to wave hello or blow her a kiss. Because does that sound like something I would do, NO. He kept trying to see if she would look at him and I was like, “She’s not looking. She seems like a REAL B if you ask me” and then he was getting defensive about her which means he’s writing his marriage proposal in his head already, oh my god, my little BAYBAY IS GROWING UP.

ONE OF THESE GIRLS IS JOHNNY’S SISTER. Also, Chooch doesn’t know her name, just that she’s Johnny’s Sister. 

We saw her in line for the RACER too. Speaking of the Racer…

• The ride attendant let Chooch and I are on the ride at the last minute after noticing that there was one empty car so in all of the flurry and excitement, I couldn’t get my seat belt buckled and THEY NEVER CHECKED IT. Chooch was frantically yelling, “EXCUSE ME MY MOM’S SEATBELT IS NOT ON” but then they were all ALL CLEAR with their thumbs up in the air and I kept assuring Chooch that I wasn’t going to die, and I would only care if the seat belt was the kind that crossed the whole seat, but this one was just mine, so Chooch was safely belted in. I’ve ridden this damn coaster enough times to know that I wasn’t going to get flung into the tree tops unless I stood up during the part where the skull and crossbones sign tells you DON’T STAND UP, but THEN WHY WAS I WHITEKNUCKLING THE BARS!? No really, it was fine. I made it. I’m alive. BUT HEY TEENAGE RIDE ATTENDANTS, DO A BETTER JOB.
  • Fine, I was kind of scared.

• I was so excited when it was finally time to ride the train and by “finally time” I mean that we were in the area and I slickly corralled Chooch into line before he could figure out what was going on, because he thinks the train is so stupid and hello, it IS so stupid, which is why it’s so fucking fun! Anyway, it was really crowded for some reason, and we mistakenly boarded the last train car which was occupied by an entire group of people in matching t-shirts and we wound up sitting in the front, which also has a row of seats FACING toward the rest of us, so part of the group sat there and we had to stare at them while they held conversations over our heads with the rest of their group and I fucking hated it. I actually started to sweat, because it felt too intimate and I considered getting off the ride before it started but that would look worse, wouldn’t it? OMG why are they staring at me? Anyway, these assholes spent the whole time complaining about the ride and making fun of things and suddenly, it wasn’t so funny when other people were making the jokes! Also, one of them asked, “Where are we? Ohio?” and one of other people calmly said, “No, Pennsylvania” LIKE IT WASN’T A STUPID QUESTION? They weren’t from Pittsburgh so maybe someone else might have cut them some slack, but I just got hyper-sensitive about my hometown and wanted to punt them off the train.
  • “I liked those people!” Chooch cheered when we walked away from the train. That made me hate them even more!

• We ate at Johnny Rockets, because that’s what we do when Henry isn’t there — we eat at a place where our food is brought to us. Plus, Johnny Rockets has veggie burgers!
  • By the way, Chooch’s vegetarianism is still going strong and I can’t believe it. I swear to god I’m not pressuring him into doing this! It’s all on his own. His favorite brand of fake chicken is Quorn, by the way. Ask him about it sometime and he’ll morph into Paula Deen napping on a hammock, having a butter dream.

• Ugh, I can’t ride the Cosmic Chaos anymore because it makes me have optical seizures. Honestly, my eyeballs become part of a pinball game and my whole day is ruined. I used to love this ride when it was new, but now I just sit on a bench like a MOM and watch Chooch have a grand ol’ time on his own.

• This time around, I bought Chooch his beloved lemonade before he had a chance to start crying about how badly he needed lemonade, which is what he did last year because I’m not HENRY and I can’t handle these demands as quickly and seamlessly as Hank the Tank. (Literally no one ever calls him  that.) Anyway, he was enjoying his lemony ade while standing in line for the Jack Rabbit when suddenly! He noticed that there was a discarded lemon on the track of the coaster, just laying there looking sad and orphaned, and because Chooch has the innate propensity to anthropomorphize anything and everything just like his MOMMY, he latched on to this sad, acidic wedge of refuse and began making up songs about it until eventually he had started some weird political campaign for lemons and began shouting “HASHTAG LEMON EQUALITY!” which was funny at first but then people were starting to stare and I’m only OK with people staring sometimes, and not other times. Chooch doesn’t care though, he’ll stare right back.
  • Corey wasn’t even there, but now he’s all about lemon equality too thanks to Chooch’s persuasiveness.

• Ugh, the Black Widow, why did I do this to myself again?! I swear, that line moves so slowly because they want everyone to stand there and think about what they’re about to let happen to themselves. It’s one of the most solemn lines I’ve ever stood in. And now there’s a new sign screaming about how hair longer than shoulder length needs to be pulled back, and that hair ties are available.  WHAT, WHY. WHAT HAPPENED?! At first I thought I was the only one panicking about this, because was my hair at DANGER’S LENGTH? Did I need to request a hair tie?! Chooch was like, “Good lord, calm down. That broad’s hair is way longer than yours and she doesn’t have it pulled back” and he pointed to some broad whose hair really was way longer than mine, and the ride attendant just walked right past her, like, “Well, if you don’t care about getting scalped, then I don’t care either.” Meanwhile, the girls in line behind us had also just noticed the sign and they started making wild speculations as well, and my legs were beginning to buckle. When it was our turn, I cried, “Do you think I need a hair tie!?” to the ride attendant, who was just like, “Wha—? No.” And then that was that. No hair tie for me. But I started to feel like maybe I needed one anyway. Maybe their measurements were off and it was actually “just hovering at shoulder length” and now I was in peril.
  • Also, we each were handed a card with a seat number on it which I thought was fantastic because sometimes on circular rides like this one, you end up getting split up from your friends because people love to sit down and leave one empty space between them and that fucks everything up! So now people are guaranteed to be seated with their buddies and it makes me happy. All of this is to say that even with a plastic card that had a LARGE BOLD SEAT NUMBER ON IT, Chooch still sat in the wrong seat and almost screwed everything up. He’s so embarrassing.
    • Like my Woman on the Edge shrieking during the entire ride isn’t already embarrassing enough. I swear this ride was worse than the first time I went on it last year! The girls next to me were so happy to get away from me when it was over, I think. I’m sorry, but when I’m under duress, things come out of my mouth and I can’t control that. Or the volume.
      • The people working this ride are no fun at all. We re-watched “Kennywood Memories” the other night and I think we all can agree that the people working there in the 1980s were the BEST. Kennywood needs to raise the bar. I need more interaction. And bigger hair. (On them, not me. I don’t want anymore of this hair tie hassle.)

JOHNNY’S SISTER ALERT. This time she said hi to him so I had to stop calling her a B.

“Pretty soon you’ll be coming here with friends, and not your dumb MOM,” I said wistfully at one point during the day, watching a group of middle schoolers crash through a line of people with zero regard.

“No, I’ll still come here with you!” Chooch declared, and I ALMOST believed him.

(I mean, I am a lot of fun at amusement parks, so I can’t imagine why he’d want to ever go with anyone else!)

***

Another successful day at Kennywood without supervision. We’re growing up!

I mentioned in the Liveblog yesterday that we visited some Roadside America sight called Jerry’s Junk before the show last night. 

At a quick glance, it’s basically some dude’s private collection of lawn jockeys and old bikes, you know the type of junk. And while it seems like it’s all strewn about in arbitrary assortment, you start to notice that everything is in its place, and Jerry probably for sure knows where to find every last horseshoe.

We peeked in some of the windows and each room was stuffed with old shit. Mannequins. Disco balls. Yard flamingos. A suit of armor. From the various accounts I’ve read online, Jery also owns four other houses in the neighborhood, and they’re all stuffed to the gills with more rusted oddities. 

Henry was annoyed that I made him take us here, but I noticed he was strolling about at a leisurely pace, one hand behind his back like he does when he’s feeing peaceful, stopping here and there to get a closer look at things. (Probably airplane shit.)

Chooch loved it because he got to play I Spy. 

And then I explained to him about how those lawn jockey statues are racist so then he became angrily obsessed with them. 

An educational experience!

Jerry didn’t appear to be home. Various Roadside America tips said that speaking to him makes the experience even better, and I don’t doubt it. I love eccentrics! And if we’re being honest with each other here, I kind of saw my future in this place. 

I LOVE COLLECTIONS. 

Later that night, we were at the Artifex Pereo, talking to the drummer Cory. He asked if we had gotten a chance to see much of Louisville and I excitedly blurted out, “Just Jerry’s Junk!”

He waited a few beats and then said, “Oh…is that the guy who lives on Frankfort? With all the shit in his yard?”

God yes! That’s the one!

And on the way back to the hotel after he show, our Lyft driver Nicholas asked us the same question, at which point I enthusiastically shot forward from the backseat (well Henry internally groaned) to tell him “WE SAW JERRY’S JUNK!!!” 

Again, this was met with a few seconds of silence as he processed this information. Once it dawned on him what Jerry’s Junk is (maybe the locals call it something different? That Jerkoff Who’s Distracting from the Trendy Gentrification of the Neighborhood With All His Rusty Relics?

“Oh that guy! My girlfriend and I were there once and he came out to show us an Indian doll he had just got, that still had all its bits–he pulled down its pants to show us!”

Ugh, why couldn’t that have happened to me?!

7:47am: We just pulled out of the driveway. “I need coffee” I immediately said. “Yeah, I’m well aware of what everyone needs,” Henry snapped. Whoa. CRAPPY PANTS IS HERE, EVERYONE.

7:49am: Chooch is mad because Henry got a new phone (he’s been using an old person flip phone for the last few mths because his real one broke) and he wants to hold it so badly but Henry is like DONT START WITH THIS PHONE SHIT!! Kids and phones, amirite.

8:16am: I can’t believe I’m about to admit this but I succumbed to the basic bitch pressure and got a….pumpkin macchiato. I know! I’m the worst! I’m so predictable! But at least it wasn’t from Starbucks. In other news, I’m not being a bitch anymore because I got a pumpkin macchiato.

8:42am: I had planned on swinging by the Cincinnati area because I have always wanted to go to the Loveland Castle (and by always I mean for the 4 years I’ve known of its existence). Henry just had me look up the directions on Google maps so I clicked on the map thing in my Roadside America app and started crying because it said it was nearly 7 hours away and HOW WILL WE HAVE TIME so Henry got all huffy and said, “send me the directions!” So I did and he was like, “because these directions have us starting in MARYLAND, that’s why it says it’s so far away!”

While I was giggling, Henry said in a very weary voice, “How do you survive?”

8:59am: Chooch just came back with cheese curls from Sheetz and you would have thought I was asking him for a kidney, I hate him.

Oh for fucks sake, Henry couldn’t find the lemon packet things for his signature unsweetened iced tea, and some Sheetz lady JUST BROUGHT THEM OUT TO THE CAR FOR HIM BEFORE WE LEFT and Henry is SO FUCKING EXCITED ABOUT THIS and wants to write to Sheetz now except he doesn’t know the broad’s name.

He can just send them this picture of her then, I guess.

9:18am: I wonder how many hours of mocking Henry in a hick farmer accent before I finally pierce the barrier he mentally puts up between us. YOU CAN’T BLOCK ME OUT FOREVER, SWEET PEA.

9:51am: I hate when I start to like something Top 40ish and Chooch pops up from the backseat to tell me that they used to be a YouTuber, ugh.

10:42am: Stopped at rest area in some Ohio place and a man in a suit asked Chooch if his name was LESTER and then was crippled with disbelief when Chooch said no because HE LOOKS JUST LIKE SOME BOY HE KNOWS and as we left him in our dust, I could still hear him back there wow’ing in shock.

Obligatory rest stop bathroom selfie. If I look haggard that’s because I stayed up all night watching Danity Kane videos/Making the Band recaps on YouTube.

Meanwhile, I almost forgot that Chooch’s name was Lester back when we kidnapped him 10 years ago.

11:57am: Reminsicing about the time I listened to this Perfidious Words song on repeat for approx. 5 hours when I worked the late shift at my last job, and then accidentally became suicidal because of it. Henry is not enjoying this stroll down memory lane.

12:12pm: Henry is in another rest area, doing whatever he does in there, so Lester and I are talking behind his back. “He’s in such a bad mood today.” “I know.”

Just wait until we get to the castle! That’ll be sure to turn his frown upside down and back around into a greater frown.

1:38pm: well we just finished touring Loveland Castle and Henry is in an even worse mood, as predicted! The only time he smiled was when the guide mentioned THE SERVICE.

ASSHOLE ALERT.

Whatever. Lester had a good time in the castle.

1:43pm: Some broad in a car next to us at a red light sneezed so I said bless you and Lester is like SO EMBARRASSED.

2:13pm: we’re at Sugar & Spice for lunch and this place is a WONDERLAND.

Our waitress was this old lady who seemed concerned that no one had brought me my coffee 30 seconds after I ordered it.

“You had a coffee right?” she asked. “And no one brought it yet???”

I shook my head no, slowly, because I didn’t understand how anyone would know I ordered it when she was still standing there taking our order?

“Wait—did you just tell me that now?” She asked. “Oh, ha! I saw it there and forgot that I had just written it down.”

O.o

The restrooms were DOWNSTAIRS. I love when the restrooms are downstairs! This place was EVERYTHING!

I read about it on Roadside America and literally the only reason we went is because they give out FREE RUBBER DUCKIES. Chooch and I were so nervous that we weren’t going to get one and neither of us wanted to ask and Henry was like THIS IS ALL YOU DONT LOOK AT ME so finally I cleared my throat and asked the lady at the register if the duck thing was still a go, and she silently reached for a bucket on a shelf and told us to go on and take a rubber duck and Chooch nearly clotheslined himself against the counter in his overzealous rummaging.

4:58pm: Nothing noteworthy has happened in hours but we just made it to the hotel – some generic Radisson. Three hours until Artifex Pereo!!

6:51pm: just saw Jerry’s Junk and it was mildly cool but also pretty anticlimactic.

However, I bet that man has a TON OF SHIT that I would buy if he was selling. Meanwhile, Chooch casually asked me to put on Danity Kane, lol.

And Henry is having a blast telling Louisville drivers that they’re doing it wrong. “YOU CANT TURN LEFT ON RED!”

7:24pm: Benjamin the Lyft driver is taking us to the venue now and listening to him and Henry attempt to make small talk with each other is simultaneously killing me and giving me life. Also I couldn’t get my seatbelt to fasten so I’m just sitting here with my arm thru it like a sling.

8:52pm: Huge difference between me and Chooch: when I need to pee in a public place, I freak out and spend 25 minutes trying to build up the courage to look for the bathroom and then I hoarsely whisper to Henry WHERE DO YOU THINK THE BATHROOM IS OMG HELP. Chooch gets right up and sets out to find it himself.

10:32pm: This night is so excelsior. Every band has been wonderful, the venue is great, Henry is actually in a good mood and said that he liked the last band that played (Funeral Portrait) and now Artifex Pereo is about to go on and I’m so sweaty and Chooch is half asleep in a chair and all the Artifex guys keep asking him if he’s going to make it and it’s just good fucking vibes all over, can I stay in Louisville forever.

12:02am: Waiting for our Lyft driver, Nicholas, to pick our exhausted, sweaty asses up. I hope I lost weight. I SWEAT SO MUCH.

“There’s so much wrong with my body,” Chooch just randomly said.

12:23am: Nicholas returned us safely to our hotel (he was an A+ Lyft driver and gave us non-stressful conversation) and then we had cheerful banter with the ladies at the front desk because we’re all delirious from the hotbox that is New Vintage, and now I’m ready to get my Savasana on in this stiff-as-fuck bed.

PEACE OUT, GIRL SCOUT.

I was on the phone with everyone’s favorite frowner this morning, waiting to cross the street, when I heard from behind me, “Excuse me. Excuse me! Cat girl!”

At first I thought this person was calling me a fat girl, and I was ready to swing my purse at him, but then I remembered I’m wearing my cat blouse today. 

I sighed, took the phone away from my mouth, and gave him the attention he so desperately craved. 

“What time is it?”

The man was probably in his mid-to-late 40s, looked a bit like a disheveled, moderately slow David Letterman. Dressed in a t-shirt, cargo shorts, and sandals. 

I told him it was 7:49. 

“Ugh, really? Because they’re supposed to open at 7:30,” he said in a vague whine, gesturing over his shoulder to the R-Bar. 

Let me just say that while I enjoy getting grimey in the occasional dive bar, this is one bar I would probably never patronize. Even though it’s conveniently located a mere block from my house. 

(I think. I always get confused when it comes to blocks.)

I shrugged and said I was sorry, I couldn’t tell him why they weren’t rolling out the cigarette ash and peanut shell-encrusted red carpet for him when it was already 7:49 in the motherfucking AM. 

Hoping this would satisfy his urge for human contact, I began to pivot back toward the road. 

“Where are you going dressed like that, anyway?”

STOP. DO NOT ENGAGE. YOU KNOW BETTER, ERIN KELLY. 

Still, the words rolled out of my mouth like an unraveling Fruit By the Foot. It was too late to stuff them back in. 

“Work,” I answered in a cheerful voice I didn’t recognize me because now I was clearly possessed by the Demon of Small Talk. 

“Wow! Where do you work?!”

Guys, I’m wearing a freaking blouse thing with cats on it, and jeans because it’s Jeans Day. I’m not wearing hot pants and nipple tassels so I’m not sure why my attire was so fascinating to him other than the fact that he was probably already drunk. 

So now I’m second-guessing every decision I made since waking up that morning. Was I dressed inappropriately for work?! DID I LOOK LIKE A FOOL?! I mean, these are questions that you could probably answer yes to on any given day but this guy just made me feel like I was under a spotlight and should I go home and change into a cardigan??!! 

Well, I couldn’t go home because guess who doesn’t currently have a house key, so I guess the Law Firm people will just have to suffer through a day of seeing me in a CAT SHIRT. 

In spite of my better judgment, I mumbled, “A law firm” and then I turned and JAY-WALKED across West Liberty Avenue and you all know how much I hate jay-walking and how terrified I am of crossing the street when when the “ITS OK TO CROSS NOW, CHILD” light is flashing. He was just beginning to lean in too close to me and my paranoia was turning my mind into a flip book of crime scene photos. I guess if I was going to die today, I’d rather get hit by a car than sodomized and stuffed in a suitcase by some early rising wino. 

When I resumed my conversation with Henry, he was already laughing. “What was that all about, were you getting hit on?”

Yep, by all the best locals. 

I walk-ran to the shuttle stop, which is another story for another time (there’s an Old Broad that I’m at war with). A few minutes later, just as the shuttle pulled away from the curb, I saw Drunk Letterman shambling toward the sidewalk I had been standing on 45 seconds prior. He stopped right in front of Albert’s Bar, also not open yet. 

By the time I made it to work, I was fucking exhausted. Talking to strangers is so hard. 

I wonder where that guy is drinking right now?

Ever since forever, it’s been tradition to get a Golden Nugget ice cream cone at Kennywood. I mean, I’d like to break tradition and get THREE ice cream cones at Golden Nugget sometime, but who knows what kind of jinx (and pounds) that would put on me.

Probably have written entire dissertations on this subject in the past, but I don’t care. Golden Nugget needs some blog lovin’.

They use some kind of standard vanilla ice cream (Isaly’s maybe? I feel like I heard once that it was Isaly’s but I always make up a lot of things in the Imagination Station that is my head, so…), hand-cut into squares (I’ve seen them do it with my own eyes). It’s all a part of the process. Watching them cut it into the exact size needed to jam into the weird double-header cone, drooling as its dunked and drowned in the chocolate sauce bath, and then wringing your hands in an OCD fashion because you want every last centimeter to be coated when they roll that beast around in the designated topping.

It’s been a staple of true Kennywooders (?) since 1967, you guys! That’s a long ass motherfucking time.

I’ve literally never seen a Kennywood employee smile while making one of these which seems preposterous.

PREPOSTEROUS!

When Chooch and I stood in line, I started to sweat because I couldn’t remember how to order them. WHAT WERE THEY CALLED?

“The Original,” Chooch said, pointing to the sign, but that didn’t sound right to me! I considered texting Henry to ask him what he calls them when he does the ordering, but figured he wouldn’t reply fast enough so I just stuttered, “Uh, two of the ice cream things…..um, with uh….nuts.”

“Yeah, THE ORIGINAL,” Chooch muttered under his breath.

SORRY BUT THAT DIDN’T SOUND FAMILIAR TO ME. Jesus Christ, do it yourself next time!

The broad (lol, she was like 16) making mine lost the original ice cream chunk when slapping it around in the tray of nuts, sighed, and started over with a new one.

“That’s basically the same week I’ve been having,” I said to her, and we kind of shared a laugh, sort of? But then I kept overthinking what I said until it just didn’t make any sense at all to me anymore and why do I bother speaking out of turn, am I right?

(OMG EW, you can see my reflection in that last picture. I just scared myself.)

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Idiot Chooch didn’t get a cherry on his ice cream cone (SORRY, ON HIS “THE ORIGINAL”) so he handed it right the fuck back and said, “I wanted a cherry.”

Damn son. You know how to go after what you want.

So that little shit ended up getting TWO cherries while I only got one, and he ragged me about that for the next two days. I don’t know where he gets his mean spirit from.

Do you think those people in the background are on a first date?!

I wish I always had one of these cones to camouflage my Leno chin. :(

Chooch’s ice cream review: “They’re really good. And also this year I didn’t get any on my face.”

Guys, when you come to Kennywood with me in your dreams, I’ll buy you one of these square cone things and then we can sit beneath a canopy of HAM SANDWICHES.