According to some of my friends, this was the BEST PIE PARTY YET, so LOL if you missed it.

Just kidding. That was rude. And my new thing is trying not to be rude.

But it really was a mighty fine display of people and pies and I couldn’t be happier. Let’s peruse some pictures of these particular people and pies, perchance.

PIE PEOPLE:

• Judy
• My mom (!!!) and her friend Debbie
• John, Jen, Gavin and Abby
• Blake & Haley
• Alisa and Cara
• Kara, Harland & Theo
• Lisa, Matt, Matt’s dad Mike, & Gigi
• Erin, Brian & Padraig
• Lauren & Tony (and their dog, Charlie!!)
• Chris & Monica
•  BARB
• Rocky, Angela & Ryder
• Brad (and his dog Tucker!)
• Sandy, Ben, Elena & Zoe
• Maggie, Ivan, Lila & Annabelle
• Glenn, Amanda, & Eve
• Chris & Rebecca
• Felicia, her mom Donna (my old Girl Scout leader!!), and Lila
• Amanda, Adam, Alia, and Annika
• Brian, Cathy & Clara
• Debbie S.
• Gayle & Jeffrey
• Rob, Nancy & Nancy’s mom
• Valerie and Brian
• Amber2 & Teddy

I think I got everyone. If I missed you and you’re reading this, obviously it’s because you don’t rate. JUST KIDDING. This is one of the downsides of waiting two weeks to recap the damn thing. But the upside is that I get to write in my blog while watching HOCKEY because HOCKEY SEASON IS IN FULL EFFECT.

OK, back to the pie, though. There were so many delicious pies! It’s a good thing we don’t actually do any judging because there’s no way I could pick a winner.

We made that weird sweet potato thing which Henry fucked up and it came out sooooo dense and not very sweet at all which is a shame because it was beautiful-looking. The second pie he made was Nesselrode, which no one would consider because the name was so horrible but my god, it was fantastic. It was made with like, pecan puree? I can’t remember. But it was sweet and creamy and this is the stuff broads should be wrestling in, not jello.

Sandy brought a tomato & corn pie that was so good, I want to use some cheesy adjective that Dick van Dyke would jovially exclaim if Disney presented a theatrical release of the pie party.

(Sandy, why don’t you slide that recipe into my DMs? Or you can just give it to me at work on Monday like a normal person.)

(And then I’ll give it to Henry because LOL recipes.)

Rob also brought a savory pie! Spinach and cheese. Savory pies are often the unsung heroes of the pie party because you can only eat so much sugar before your body starts to crave a vegetable.

Or salt.

Or cheese.

Speaking of vegetables, though….

John & Jen brought two pies made with vegetables from their kids’ garden: a chocolate ghost pepper pie and a carrot pie, which was sweet not savory. Holy shit, both pies were great but the ghost pepper experience was lit AF. It was just the right amount of heat, right at the end, just when you think you’re home safe…

And Lauren brought a key lime pie with a jalapeno twist, which was also delightfully fiery!

I was so into this year’s accidental spicy theme!

Kara made a pineapple cream pie which she was afraid wasn’t going to be exotic enough—Kara, you’re crazy. That pie should be the official dessert of Hawaii. And she worked so hard mixing up the whipped topping!

(FYI THE PENS JUST SCORED.)

Everyone LOLd when Glenn showed up. I’m friends with his wife Amanda on Instagram so I made sure she had the details because apparently he never tells her about the pie party!? They brought a pumpkin cheesecake thing that all these people kept raving about and I’m sad because I was too busy trying to socialize like an authentic human and by the time I went back to get some, it was all gone. UNLIKE THE NESSELRODE.

Fun fact: Glenn used to work with my high school buddy Chris, who also came out for his first ever pie party! AND Chris is a beekeeper so he brought an amazing apple pie with brie and fresh honey from his bees! I’m posting his own Instagram picture here because I wasn’t able to snap my own photo before it was mauled:

LOOK HOW ADORABLE!! And it tasted fantastic.

So Chris is a beekeeper and so is Lisa’s father-in-law who was also there, and Glenn is a WASHED-UP beekeeper! So many bee experts under one pavilion!

I don’t have a picture of this one, but Maggie brought a mango pie which definitely was a star of the exotic pie theme. I’ve never had a mango pie before and now I want one all the time! I just had a quick side-bar with Henry about this one and he said, “Yeah it was good” but he used a tone that had actual life and emotion to it (the opposite of hope he did earlier today when I asked him if he thought the new Joyce Manor album is great) so that’s how you know it was a good pie and he wasn’t just trying to tell me what I wanted to hear so that he could go back to half-watching the Pens game and pretending he’s an NHL coach.

I think Lisa was revealing some foolproof weight-loss secret. I mean, that’s the only thing that would have me so enrapt. Plus, look at Henry smirking.

Lisa’s amazing lemon blueberry thing (one of my favorite flavor combos!) and her father-in-law’s pecan pie chilling in the background. I was super nervous to meet her FIL Mike, who was visiting from Colorado, because Lisa told me that he’s been reading my blog and I always feel embarrassed when that happens. And I know, “Then Erin, why have you been writing on the Internet since 2001?” I guess the short answer is that I pretend it’s because the only people who read this are the ones I made up in my mind.

You know, “you guys.”

Duh.

It was really cool to meet him, though, even though he made a joke that went right over my dumb blond head, and when I mentioned it to Lisa a week later, she said, “Oh, so THAT’S why he mentioned that he thought you were going to be so smart in real life, but was disappointed to find out you’re kind of dumb.”

UGH, LISA.

And then when I won at Beer Math last week, she was like, “Aw, I’m going to have to tell my father-in-law that you actually are smart sometimes.” THANKS, LISA!

Speaking of Lisa, my favorite part of the pie party migt have been when she told Monica and me that we have really pretty eyes and Monica was like, “AW THANKS’ and I was like, “Really? It took you 20 years to tell me that?”

Alisa might troll Chooch harder than anyone and I love her so much for it. Here she is antagonizing him over a heated game of Pokemon. (Also, Cara brought these really cute apple tarts and I didn’t get one because as usual, I’m snoozin’ and losin’. You can see them on the bottom of the pie tier below!)

Felicia and her mom Donna took this challenge very seriously and brought a fancy tray of mini mouthgasms, a/k/a Canadian Buttertarts.

“Excuse me, did you say Canadian buttertarts?” Monica asked, popping up from under the table, fist to her mouth in an effort to plug her hysteric enthusiasm.

Monica is really into these things, I learned!

And she and Felicia both, in tandem, attempted to show me the proper way to eat it.

“You need to hold it over the wrapper,” Felicia said.

“No really you need to eat that shit over top of something,” Monica tried in vain to warn me.

But I stubbornly chucked the wrapper in the trash and took a big bite.

“You’re gonna get it all over—-oh, OK. There it is,” Monica sighed, as the liquid-y butter innards gushed all the way down my chin, onto my arm, probably into my hair.

“We tried to tell you,” Felicia said as I fled in search of napkins or wet wipes or a babbling brook in which to dunk my whole person.

“You’re an idiot,” Henry said as he cleaned me up.

Henry would probably make a really great preschool teacher.

Or at least, the preschool teacher’s creepy helper.

Monica’s practicing her hitchhiking skills for the next time she feels trapped in public with Chooch and Chris isn’t ready to leave yet. Also, Monica has the best shirts and Chris has the best hair. And so does Lauren, who sits in front of me at work and taunts me with her ability to french braid her own hair!!! Ugh!

By the way, Monica was on pie duty this year and made Butterscotch M&Ms and Cookie Dough pie, which tasted super fattening and delicious and I probably got the name wrong because I had to ask her at least 7 times during the course of the day to remind me again what it was.

So I’m just going to rename it:  Lots of Chocolatey Things In a Pie.

Ugh it was fantastical. Like Neil Patrick Harris in a pie.

I’m drinking some kind of pumpkin beer while I write this.

LOL Gayle! She brought these adorbs S’mores tarts and I was so happy to be able to use the pie tier twice at one party! I’m glad I decided to bring it.

Gayle’s tarts were serious business. She even brought a lighter to torch the marshmallows. When Brian reached for one, I was like, “WAIT DON’T EAT IT YET WE HAVE TO GET GAYLE” and there was this big To Do with the lighter and the wind  kept blowing it out and finally Brian was like, “OK look, I’m fine with cold marshmallows. NO REALLY GO AWAY.”

I love putting my party guests in uncomfortable situations with people they don’t know!

Chooch is not so low-key obsessed with my friend Rocky because one time I made an offhand remark that some YouTuber Chooch likes reminded me of Rocky. Anyway, Chooch had all these pink balloons that he insisted on blowing up before people arrived (he kept one aside and named him Bobby which was funny and sad at the same time), so naturally at some point, two balloons found their way up Chooch’s shirt and Rocky apparently said “Nice rack” to him, which sent Chooch running over to tell me, “MOMMY ROCKY RECALDINI TOLD ME I HAVE A NICE RACK!”

Like, calm down son. You’re acting like you just received an autographed headshot of some Sky TV personality you were obsessed with in 1991 which totally wasn’t something that I personally sent away for, but just a random example that means nothing.

I invited Barb because I like to hear her run down the list of Erin Rachelle Kelly superlatives that she has scrawled on a Starbucks pumpkin spice latte (holla!)* receipt in her pocket from 2011. I like to believe she adds to it constantly, and that there are like 18 of them stapled together into a little flipbook called Erin is the Best.

*(INSIDE BARB JOKE. Except that it’s not really an inside joke because I’ve shared it here before and really it’s just that she came into the office one day with a PSL fresh from Starbucks and straight up sang, “Pumpkin spice latte, holla!” which was funny because you know, Barb said it. And then she promptly sat down to tweet about it on her phone in the “blinged-out” case.)

Man, I miss Barb.

And I miss Debbie, too! She and Barb took care of me and soothed the hysteria I often felt from being out and about in the real world. Now who do I have? WENDY?! UGH. She makes me do things for myself!

LOL j/k – Gayle is still available to make sure I don’t stick forks in the toaster and accidentally strangle myself with the phone cord.

LOLOLOL Glenn and Henry! Glenn said something to Henry that was disparaging about me, something about being sorry Henry has to deal with me, and Henry was all, “LOL, at least you get paid to deal with her.” Or something terrible like that. WOW why don’t you guys just start a stupid Boys Only club in a treehouse and make dumb patches that look stupid and I don’t want one anyway!

Amanda thanked me for giving Glenn a hard time at work, and I can’t even take all the credit because many other people are mean to Glenn too, but I will say things got a lot easier for him after Natalie and Barb left.

Meanwhile, Brian was saying something about having to chase his little girl all around to make sure she didn’t fall into peril, and Kara said, “Oh just wait. By next year, you can just set her loose on the playground with the other kids and not have to deal with it.”

Brian said he turned around to look at the playground just as Chooch was riding a log.

That’s my kid.

I feel like Blake probably had something to do with the appearance of the log though.

I AIN’T.

I somehow didn’t get any pictures of Kara at the last pie party so I was on the prowl this time. Also, I should consider running a million races like Kara does so that I can eat a ton of pie without feeling like I was cast for the gluttony scene in Se7en.

I wish I had written down all the pies. I know that Erin brought a really unique and wonderful Girl Scout cookie pie (I wonder if my old Girl Scout leader Donna had a piece!?!?). My mom brought a frozen Cold Brew pie, adorned with chocolate espresso beans. I don’t think anyone has ever brought a frozen pie before! NO WAIT I think Amber1 brought a frozen pink lemonade pie one year?! God, so many pies, you guys. Who can keep track!?

Valerie brought a chocolate peanut butter from the Pie Place which I barely even cared about because I was just so excited to see her face! I’ve known her from all the way back in the LiveJournal days and when I met Kara, I learned that they were “real life” friends so we all went to lunch once in 2008, and it was actually my first time going to Zenith, so now I equate Valerie with cool bathrooms and good vegetarian food.

Anyway, I haven’t seen her since then so this was a big deal for me and I nearly pushed people out of the way so I could greet her.

Also, I made her try the Nesselrode pie and she agreed that it was really good. “You should have named it something else, though,” she said. Ugh, I know, but it’s named after some man named Nesselrode for some reason that my eyes skipped over because I get bored easily but I read enough to know that it sounded weird and that probably no one else was going to bring a Nesselrode.

No one else brought a Nesselrode.

Even if it had a better name, it still looked like a unappetizing  gray blob so probably no one would eat it unless I was aggressively slipping it into their plate. It’s a good thing I’m not this pie’s PR person.

Rocky and Angela brought a banana cream pie which I always forget how much I love a good banana cream until I’m elbow-deep in one and it’s all over my face and I’m sobbing because why do I have no self-control.

Look at this carnage!!

Also, Sandy: remember when Maggie lost her mind and screamed at Elena for no reason and Elena was completely unfazed but you and I jumped? #scaryMaggie

Brian made fun of Dance Gavin Dance but THAT’S OK. I will probably still invite him to the next pie party. Cathy and Clara are more than welcome, at the very least!

(Also, Cathy makes horror movie cookies, you guys. She is someone I need in my life.)

Judy tried brie for the first time and her taste buds apparently revolted harder than most rational, intelligent, self-respecting women when shown a picture of Donald Trump. Brian and Monica witnessed this with me.

Sorry Judy, I’ll tell Chris V. to bring Kraft Singles next time!

Guys. We love Blake’s girlfriend Haley. Like, a lot. And I think Chooch has met his match with her! She dishes it right back to him and it’s amazing.

Amber2 came right as the party was winding down because she was waiting for Teddy to wake up from his nap, so she was probably thinking, “Wow this is the worst pie party yet!” I’m really glad she made it though and I was so happy to see her that I actually CUT HER A SLICE OF BRAD’S APPLE CRUMBLE PIE ALL ON MY OWN! I mean, it was a struggle and she probably could have done it herself more efficiently while holding her kid and standing on a unicycle, but at least I made an effort OK.

I wish I had had the forethought to force everyone to have their picture taken under the pie portal.

There was the most vivid rainbow that appeared as we (lol “we”) were cleaning up. This picture does no justice whatsoever, but I can honestly say that it’s the brightest rainbow I’ve ever seen, and then Kara pointed out that it was actually so big and bright that it was starting to repeat the last several colors! AND THEN WE NOTICED THAT IT WAS A DOUBLE RAINBOW ON TOP OF THAT. What a great ending to a satisfying day of pies and good people.

HOPE TO SEE YOU NEXT YEAR!

I spent the whole hockey game writing this. You’re welcome. Well, maybe not YOU, but someone is welcome.

Chooch and I were home alone together on Monday. He didn’t have school because of Open House or whatever, so I took the day off since, you know, he’s only 10 and apparently shouldn’t be left alone in the house I guess.

It was pretty anticlimactic though. We didn’t even fight, if you can believe it. I even let him use my phone to play Pokémon Go while we were on the loose in Brookline.

We talked a lot about the election, which is crazy to me because when I was a kid, I gave literally NO FUCKS about politics, but this kid has been enrapt in this election, and he was very interested in the last one too (he used to angrily rant about Mitt Romney and it was hilar). Even before Henry and I started talking about it, Chooch would make passing comments about how much he dislikes Trump, and I think it speaks volumes how many children are voicing their opinions with this. Even when we were at Kennywood, we were standing in line behind several girls who appeared to be around 12 and they were absolutely skewering the man.

The awareness is real.

“Is it OK to call Trump retarded?” Chooch asked me. I quickly said no because that word, ugh that word. It admittedly took me a long time to retire it from my own vocabulary. Old habits, right? So I told him no but I gave him a list of words that he can use, like: racist, misogynist, bigot, homophobe, disaster, sleaze, pervert, uninformed, etc etc etc. And then I used that as an opportunity to beat into his head once again how not to assault women, and most of all, how to just be a decent person.

I want to believe that these things go without saying, because Henry and I certainly don’t sit around spewing hate speak and building walls and grabbing random pussies, but I think it’s important to still have an open dialogue about this because IT STARTS AT HOME. I mean, I’m right about this so shut up.

(SORRY. I’M JUST A LITTLE HEATED LATELY.)

AHEM.

During our walk, we passed by Wyld Chyld Tattoo and if you’re a tattoo enthusiast, you might know that this is the shop of Sarah Miller from Ink Masters. RIGHT HERE IN LITTLE OL’ BROOKLINE. She is masterful at portraits (google that shit, I’m tired of doing it all for you) (j/k here you go please don’t stop reading my blog) and I low key fan girl over her. One time, she walked past me on the boulevard and cheerfully said she liked my purse (the eyeball one that Chooch hates, of course) and it was all I could do to not sound like fucking Bullwinkle when I thanked her.

Anyway, Sarah was standing outside her shop, smoking a cigarette and looking at her phone.

“CHOOCH THAT’S SARAH MILLER” I hissed urgently at the side of his head.

“Ok?” he shrugged. Like what does he even know.

(Other than everything, apparently, as we would learn later that night at Open House when his teacher essentially was like “This kid is the ticket to your future beach house and you gotta get him into SciTech because his brain was built for math and science.” NEWS TO ME BUT OK, TEACH.)

So then I did the whole “SHOULD I GO SAY HI” song and dance but by the time I worked up the courage and we turned around to go back, she had already gone back inside.

I hate myself.

Then I called Henry to excitedly relay this entire episode, to which he responded, “Is that all? Because I’m trying to work.”

UGHHH.

After all of that excitement, we walked to Dormont where I flipped out because they are still doing work on Potomac and the sidewalks are all jacked so we had to go a long, roundabout way, just to get to Fredo’s where Chooch ordered a egg sandwich with no meat and then pouted because he lost a Snorlax or whatever.

(I’m told by other Pokémon experts my age that this is a valid reason to be sad.)

Then Henry came home and we were all like HENRY TAKE CARE OF US OMG WE NEED ATTENTION. 

Meanwhile, this shitty 50 Shades meme keeps going around on Facebook (it’s been ALL WOMEN I’ve seen posting it) and it’s nice to know that while I’m working hard to make sure my son respects women, these assholes are basically unraveling it all by teaching their daughters that it’s OK to be talked about that way because IT’S JUST LOCKER ROOM TALK RIGHT? Who gives a fuck about self-respect.

I was so mad about this that at one point my brain felt like it short-circuited and I just kept saying “Brock Turner. Brock Turner. Brock Turner” over and over.

And yes, I 100% unfriended the idiot who posted that.

Let’s end on a happy note! HERE IS ANOTHER DANCE GAVIN DANCE SONG! I was recently added into a DGD support group on Facebook and I finally feel less alone. I’m with my people now. 

If you changed that 2005 to 2006, this could be about Chooch. 

This past weekend was one of those weekends where nothing super major happened, but it was just so pleasant and fulfilling that I want to remember it forever. So walk with me, and I’ll tell you all about it. If you feel a pain in your leg, that’s just me kicking you because you fell asleep.

FIRST, we went to lunch at the Interchange with my mom and brother Ryan. I was really excited because this was the first fall day that was chilly enough to have Henry and Chooch running for their flannels and beanies, and you guys — that’s my favorite version of them! We walked out of the house and I had a strong urge to go on a hayride or stir a cauldron of white privileged male blood under a full moon. TAKE ME, AUTUMNAL EQUINOX.

Anyway, lunch was great! I quit going over to my grandparents’ house near the end of August because I admittedly couldn’t handle it anymore (I was literally losing hair over it, no joke), so I’m glad that I still get to see my mom outside of that situation. And my brother Ryan! I have no idea why we don’t hang out more often, but every time I see him, I’m reminded of how awesome he is. We reminisced about all the haunted houses we went to as kids, and the time I took him and some of his friends to the USS Nightmare when I was 19 and they were all jerky middle schoolers. While we were in line, one of them pulled out a laser pointer and started shining it into the windows of the Marriott we were standing next to, and then some hotel guest picked up his LAMP and started shining it back at us.

“I guess you had to be there,” I said to Henry, who rolled his eyes as usual.

And then my vegetarian kid (holding strong since July with zero pressure applied from me, I swear!) ordered the vegetarian burger which was basically just a portabello mushroom, and told the waitress, “But I don’t want the onions, or the lettuce, or the tomatoes…..or the mushroom.”

“So, you want a bun, basically,” I sighed and told him to pick something else.

“Then I’ll have the veggie hoagie, but I don’t want….” and before he could finish un-ordering every single vegetable that came on it, I interjected and said, “JUST GET THE GRILLED CHEESE.”

So he got the grilled cheese.

Over lunch, I was telling Ryan and Val about how Chooch called Henry from the gifted school because he needed to know where Henry’s ancestors are from because they were doing a project in his multi-cultural elective.

“So Henry told him that he had ancestors from Serbia, but Chooch confused it with Siberia,” I said and everyone laughed except for Henry, who sighed, “Yeah, except that my ancestors are Syrian, not Serbian, so you’re both wrong.”

And then we laughed even harder because LOLOLOL Chooch and I are so ignorant when it comes to Henry.

Being ignorant.

The rest of the afternoon was, in all honesty, spent listening to the new Dance Gavin Dance record because when I obsess, I obsess HARD.

Later that evening, Lisa picked me up and took me to her friends’ house in Wilkinsburg for their annual Beerstravaganza, which is kind of similar to my pie party, but everyone brings a six-pack or growler of their favorite beer to share and it’s, you know, considerably more drunken. When we got there, Lisa had a moment of panic because she had a whole box of 12 beers and only wanted to bring in the required 6 bottles, but then she was going to look dumb carrying in a half box and OMG what was she going to do. I just stood there, looking at my phone, twirling my hair, spinning in circles like I do, when it occurred to me that she was having some type of crisis, so I casually suggested that she just take out six bottles and replace it with the six bottles I was holding, and then it would just be like, “Oh look, these girls combined their beers into one box of 12. Nothing to see here.”

Lisa kept going on and on about how brilliant I am (le duh) and how she would be able to use my now-empty beer carrier thingie to put her extra 6 beers in so that they wouldn’t be rolling all around the back of her car, and don’t you worry, I took this moment to bask in my ingenuity.

The reality of the situation is that no one would have even noticed if she rolled us with a half-empty box because no one was standing over  by the kiddie pools of beer. And also, probably because it wasn’t that big of a deal!

Nevertheless, always happy to be part of the solution!

That was incredibly boring. I GUESS YOU HAD TO BE THERE, HENRY.

(Henry is everyone. Everyone is Henry.)

I usually get super nervous when I go to a party (which isn’t often because I usually just say no; see: the part about me getting super nervous), but Lisa is like my social crutch. I’m not sure what it is, but anytime I go anywhere with Lisa, the old Erin comes back out. The Erin who hasn’t spent the last 15 years being stifled and put in a corner. So when we were sitting around the bonfire and Lisa said, “I have to go to the bathroom, do you want to come in the house with me?” I was like, “Nah, I’m good right here.

”

And that’s how I made friends with a girl named Jen (we’re having lunch on Tuesday!) and listened to Rob tell a story about peeing on OJ Simpson when he was a baby!

And I also imprinted on a guy wearing a Civil War jacket and apparently developed a taste for “sour” beers. I DRANK FOUR DIFFERENT BEERS, YOU GUYS! This is monumental. I’m not a beer-person. That’s actually how I was introducing myself to people: “Hi I’m Erin. I’m learning to like beer.” And everyone was super nice to me about it! #babysteps

Lisa came back out at one point and started to say something to me, but I was all, “Shh, I’m trying to listen to Rob’s story” and she was all, “…the fuck is Rob?”

It was a really great night and I’m glad that I went even though I’m unsure of beer and people. Thanks, Lisa!

SUNDAY

After nearly a year, Chooch’s piano lessons resumed Sunday morning! His instructor, Cheryl, had temporarily moved to Asheville, NC (SC?) because she enrolled in some massage therapy program. We reallllly missed her and I was actually kind of worried that she was going to end up not coming back and we have to scour the city for a new instructor, and you all know how picky Chooch is. But yay, Cheryl’s back! She lives in Lawrenceville now, so after we dropped Chooch off, Henry and I killed time by strolling along Butler Street, which is his least favorite street in all of the land because hipsters.

Which is why it was so hilarious to me when he tripped TWICE on our walk, the second was so bad that he thought he broke his toe. Oh, god, how I laughed. That’s what happens when you walk with your nose all up in your phone, dumbass!

But yeah, he tripped in front of a whole gaggle of hipsters and they probably all talked about it later at their Dissecting Tame Impala Lyrics Over Cold Brew club.

Pre-tripping.

#thefrenchdudes

This was inexplicably stapled to a telephone pole. I’m sure there’s a reason but who cares. IT’S A GREAT READ.

After an hour of leisurely strolling, we went back to Cheryl’s and I was prepared for her to say, “Hey, I could totally tell that this kid hasn’t plugged in his keyboard since his last lesson with me in 2015” because he totally hasn’t, that lazy bastard. But because it’s CHOOCH, GOLDEN CHOOCH, she was all, “Somehow, I think he’s gotten even better!?” and proceeded to praise his “natural ability” while Chooch stood smugly at her side.

Ugh, I’m so jealous of my own kid.

But seeing Cheryl again was a huge upside to the weekend!

After lessons, we went to lunch at the Abbey, which is across from the Allegheny Cemetery and used to be a funeral home, so basically, a sanctuary for Erin R. Kelly.

My favorite part though wasn’t even the food. We had just walked inside and the hostess asked Henry how many he had in his party. Right when he said three—and I swear this wasn’t planned—Chooch and I casually popped out from behind him.

The hostess started cracking up.

“Oh my god, I don’t know how you guys did that, but it was awesome!”

I’ll tell you how: it’s because Chooch and I are like Henry’s lemmings. We walk so close behind him that if he stops abruptly, we cause a complete human pile-up, like a G-rated Human Centipede. This is why he hates grocery shopping with us because anytime he turns around, he runs right into us and then loses his mind over it.

I can only imagine how circus-y it must have looked from the hostess’s vantage. MAYBE THIS SHOULD BE OUR NEW SIGNATURE ENTRANCE. Chooch and I can wear sequined gloves and pop out from behind Henry with jazz hands and deranged clown-smiles.

I’m into this.

We all got the brunch buffet (actually, Henry assumed this was what I wanted and ordered it for me when I wasn’t paying attention, but whatever). It was fine. I’m not a huge fan of buffets to begin with but the ambiance of the Abbey and the fact that the hostess saw us for the bright, shining stars that we are was enough to keep me from cyber-bullying them on social media.

Henry and I took longer at the buffet than Chooch did (because I require so much assistance), and when we rejoined him at the table, he was lazily sipping on OJ that he ordered on his own because he doesn’t need parents, and I don’t know why, but this image made me lose it. He just shrugged and took another sip.

Interestingly, one of the items on the buffet was vegetarian sausage gravy and biscuits which was amazing timing because at the bonfire the night before, they had real sausage gravy and biscuits which I could not partake in obviously so I just ate biscuits instead while wishing there was meatless gravy.

(OMG I forgot to mention that someone had made some BOMB PUMPKIN PIE OMG TAKE ME BACK.

)

(I had to get Lisa to cut me a slice though, because knives.)

During my second and final trip to the buffet (these things are huge wastes of money for me),  Andy Gibb’s “I Just Want To Be Your Everything” was playing overhead. Behind me, a man said (to his friend, not to me, shockingly), “I love this song, but I don’t know who sings it.”

Before Henry had a chance to clamp down on my arm, I whipped my head around and yelled, “Andy Gibb!” in such a way that it sounded like I was in a race to be the first say it.

Which, I was.

His friend laughed, and said, “Yep, it is” and then Henry stuffed me back under his thumb. He hates it so much when I butt into the conversations of strangers with ALL OF THE ANSWERS.

I can’t help it. If people are talking about music, my dog-ears activate.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON:

We had just returned from a disappointing visit to Dave’s Music Mine, who did not have the new Balance and Composure on vinyl. I was standing around idly in the driveway while Henry cleaned out the car and as I went to walk away, he tried to give me some garbage to take with me.

“Take that with you!” he yelled as I let it fall to the ground.

“Nope!” I yelled back as I pranced toward the house. (Really, I pranced just to accentuate the fact that I’m too much of a princess to TAKE GARBAGE* INTO THE HOUSE.)

“TAKE IT WITH YOU!” he cried again.

“I don’t want to!” I yelled back, and then I noticed a guy walking down the sidewalk, laughing at us. You’re welcome for the free show, I guess.

*(Actually, it was the sign I made for the pie party — I didn’t want to carry that shit!)

The end. Classic sign-off. Killing this blog game.

Irony.

I’ve been stalling on the Day 3 recap and I think it’s because it was just a very underwhelming day for me for some reason. Maybe because it started out shittily when Henry was all, “LET US NOT FORGET WE ARE NOT RICH” and then took me to some shady Burger King/Dunkin Donuts/gas station compound in some industrial area near Douglas Park where we had cheap, greasy breakfast and I refused to use the bathroom because it required one to ask the person behind the Burger King counter to push a button to unlock it and that seemed like a HASSLE so I pouted about it and then Henry suggested that he would go and ask them to push the button on my behalf so I could just stand by the door and wait for it to open, but then I had more off-the-cuff excuses, like how filthy it probably was and I bet there was a Trump sticker in there on the mirror and why is Henry THE WORST UGH.

Then there was some scraggly white guy skulking around outside and I thought he was going to come in and start stabbing us but Henry was like, “WTF are you talking about?” and then the guy was GONE so did my pee-delirium conjure him up? WAS HE NOT REAL?

Anyway, we left and had a million minutes to just cruise around the perimeter of Douglas Park because gates weren’t open yet but luckily they have portapotties outside of the gates so I was able to at least pee before those things got disgusting.

Once we got inside, Henry whined because he forgot the sunblock that he made a huge deal about buying earlier that morning. I saw a man with  AN ENTIRE SHEATH of it slathered across his neck and suggested that Henry just do a drive-by lotion-snatch by dragging his hand across the dude’s throat, but Henry didn’t think this was an excelsior idea.

I mean, the guy had more enough to go around, is all I’m saying.

We walked past some radio station’s booth and “Owner of a Lonely Heart” was playing.

“For years when I was a kid, I thought this was a Police song,” I said to Henry, basically pouring my heart to him. “And when I found out it was actually Yes, I refused to believe it.”

Henry just murmured a “wow” or a “you don’t say” — some sort of placating snort — which made me scream, “HELLO, I TELL YOU THIS SAME STORY EVERY TIME WE HEAR THIS SONG AND YOU NEVER REMEMBER!”

THAT’S BECAUSE HENRY DOESN’T ACTUALLY LISTEN TO ME! He doesn’t care about my musical past!

UGH.

OK, let’s not beat around the bush. Sunday’s lineup was very underwhelming for me. Friday and Saturday were so stacked, but then Sunday was mostly just two bands that I really wanted to see: Thursday and Deftones.

Here’s who we saw:

• The Bronx: It’s been a few years since we last saw The Bronx (I think at Warped Tour) so I was pretty stoked to get the day started right. Henry even clapped once! I’ll never understand his criteria for not hating a scream-y band, but apparently The Bronx meets it.

• Frank Iero and the Patience: Last time I saw Frank was two years ago with a different band (or the same just with a different name? I don’t follow him closely enough to know these things) called the Cellabration. My favorite part of this set was before it even started, when one of the security broads came over and started talking to me about my Marcy tattoo and then we had a long ass talk about pets and Henry was just like, “I’m going to back up a bit so that I don’t get dragged into this conversation too” and it was really nice actually! Her name was Misha. I preferred her over the three idiots who squeezed in next to me and proceeded to talk about how they didn’t really even know who was Frank Iero is but they were happy that the stage was in the shade. And the one guy had his back toward the stage through most of the set and stood there directly facing me. It was so uncomfortable. I checked twitter at one point just to have somewhere else to put my eyes since dude was so close to my face, and I saw that Nick Martin from Sleeping with Sirens tweeted that Frank Iero was currently killing it at Riot Fest, so I was like, HENRY, NICK MARTIN IS HERE and within a minute, Henry found him because Henry begrudgingly knows who everyone is thanks to me shoving it into his face. “Doesn’t he wear those stupid hats*?” Henry asked. I saw yeah because I knew exactly what Henry meant, so Henry pointed into the middle of the crowd and said, “He’s right there, with that girl in a tye-died dress.” Henry: Scene Dad Extraordinare.
  • *a newsboy cap.
    • What the hell, I just opened up Instagram because I needed to take a break from purging all of this information and this is literally, no joke, you have my word, the second picture that popped up in my feed, from NICK MARTIN:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

• All Dogs: We had time to kill after Frank Iero, so we went over and sat by the two small stages, where we caught a bit of All Dogs who weren’t bad for a girl singer. Henry had no comment.
• Dee Snider: This was me throwing a bone to Henry, but also because I was mildly interested in seeing him too. “My only knowledge of Twisted Sister is from Pee Wee’s Big Adventure and Flight of the Navigator,” I admitted to Henry on our walk over to the Roots Stage and he was just like, “Oh for god’s sake.” Um, I don’t know what to say about Dee Snider. He got the crowd hyped? We made it through one song before Henry said, “OK, I’m satisfied. Let’s go.”

• Juliette Lewis and the Licks: I mean, come on — it’s Juliette fucking Lewis. I’m not exactly a fan of her band but I love her as an actress so I felt a certain obligation to at least witness one or two songs in person. She is definitely a performer! And she can sing! But I just don’t really like that style of rock so I would probably not buy her album or go out of my way to see another show. She was a great crowd-surfer though!

I was getting cranky as fuck during her set, so Henry fed me. I had the good old standby: Connie’s pizza. Who cares what Henry had. A hotdog probably.

Honestly, I think Henry and I both chose poorly and we should have skipped both Dee and Juliet in favor or With Our Arms to the Sun. Sigh.

• A Will Away: I have been dying to see these guys again since they opened for Pentimento last fall. The downside though is that I could only stick around for three of their songs because their set overlapped with Thursday. But I was happy to have the opportunity to stand at the barrier and support this small band for as long as I could because they’re so good! Love you, bebes. Come back to Pittsburgh soon so I can give you my full, undivided attention!

https://www.instagram.com/p/BLY6fC1D2kS/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

• THURSDAY!!! Oh you guys I was waiting for this moment all weekend. When Thursday broke up, I was devastated. I didn’t get a chance to see them on their final tour and at that time, it didn’t seem like a reunion was ever in the cards because they were kind of open about the fact that they just weren’t able to work together. But they quietly and unexpectedly started hinting at something earlier in the year, and I told Henry, “I bet they’re going to play Riot Fest!” and I was right. God, I love being right. Anyway, Henry doesn’t like Thursday and didn’t even care when Geoff Rickly passed out on stage at Coachella 2004 because he was ill. Henry has no heart. Also, it occurs to me that there were a ton of bands I got to see at this year’s Riot Fest that I had also seen twelve years ago at Coachella. What a weird parallel. Geoff told us that they everyone in the band was able to work out their differences and now they were back to enjoying each other’s company and it seemed so genuine to me but Henry just rolled his eyes. Look, Geoff has terrible luck when it comes to the industry and I’m just always rooting for him so stuff your jeers back up into your asshole, Henry. Ugh.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

• Bad Religion: I mean, kind of required, right? You can’t go to a festival like this and not stick around for at least a few Bad Religion songs. Henry was like, “I do not care for these people either way” but I was glad to rest for awhile during their set because I was just feeling so tired and weak probably from all the crying and swooning I had been doing all weekend.
• Underoath: Another recently reunited band. Henry was like “I do not know any of their songs” but he knew that this is the band with Aaron Gillespie and even knew what he looked like, so it was yet another small victory for me—Henry hears some of what I say! SOME.

I      

• Deftones: Gahhhhh, how have I only seen this damn band one time!? It was all the way back in 2001 when I went to Rolling Rock Town Fair with my ex-friend’s ex-husband (NOT a date but I think he might have thought it was and it was extremely awkward and really hot and might have been the worst music festival I’ve ever gone to in my whole entire life and just thinking about it makes me feel uncomfortable). So even though I don’t really keep up with their current music, I was still stoked to see them, especially since they played right around dusk and it was kind of romantic — well, it could have been but Henry and I were both on each others nerves by then I think.
  • This band brings back really warm and vibrant memories of driving like a maniac in my Eagle Talon all hours of night during the summer of 1998, blasting Deftone’s “Adrenaline” CASSETTE TAPE and just having the best fucking summer of my life. “Bored” was my motherfucking jam. They didn’t play it at Riot Fest, but they treated us with enough old shit that I was satiated.
• Rob Zombie: I am by no means a Rob Zombie fan (though I do I appreciate some of his contributions to the horror  movie industry) so we actually didn’t intend to watch any of his set (he was performing White Zombie’s Astro-Creep 2000 in its entirety), yet we caught some of it anyway just by being in the general proximity. Henry wanted to just leave after Deftones, and to be honest, I would have been fine with that but I felt like, as a music lover at heart, I felt that I needed to experience at least a few minutes of the Misfits (more on that in a bit). Anyway, Rob was OK! I didn’t hate it. I knew more songs than I thought I would.
  • HOWEVER, the little “mall” area was right near the two main stages, so we went over to finally get Henry a Stheart beanie since every year I’m like, “Get a Stheart beanie” and he never does. We ended up getting into a fight at this time because that’s what spending money does—pits us against each other.  So picture it: it’s super dark, Riot Fest is at its peak as far as attendance, and I decide I’ll show Henry who’s boss BY STORMING OFF AND TRYING TO LOSE HIM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CRAZY FUCKING ROB ZOMBIE/PRE-MISFITS CROWD. I mean, what is that even going to prove?! I thought that I had efficiently lost his tail, and so I plopped down in the middle of the park, not giving a fuck about getting trampled, and just sat there in full pout-mode. A few minutes later, I happened to look over my shoulder and that motherfucker was standing back there laughing at me, because of course he wouldn’t let me out of his sight, he’s like a Professional Dad. So them I reluctantly went over to stand with him because let’s be real: I didn’t know where he parked the car and even if I did, my set of car keys were back home in Pittsburgh with my wallet because I’m still an irresponsible child. When I got to Henry’s side, he started cracking up and then I did too even though I was trying to be angry.
    • Apparently, in the five minutes we were estranged, some kid was standing next to Henry and then must have recognized him as a NARC because Henry said he got all flustered and hurriedly put away his drugs and then left. Nice job, Cap’n DEA!
• Sleater Kinney: They played at the same time as Rob Zombie, but we got to see some of their set when we cut across the park for dinner (I had a veggie dog with veggie chili and Henry bought a full Connie’s pizza which they were selling for $10 at the end of the night in an effort to get rid of everything.  I’m not a huge riot grrl by any means, but I was glad that we got a small dose of Sleater Kinney, especially when they commended Riot Fest’s no tolerance/anti-harassment policy. Every time someone uses the stage and their microphone to speak out about this issue, a rapist loses a dick. (NOT REALLY BUT I WISH.)

• The Misfits: A few months ago, Riot Fest announced that the ORIGINAL LINE UP of the Misfits were reuniting after 33 years, and Riot Fest snagged them as the main headliner of the weekend. It was a huge deal, all music websites were writing about it, it was trending on Twitter, even people I work with had heard about it and recognized it as a huge deal. But….I was just like “meh” paired with an uncommitted shrug. Yes, I understood the gravity of this announcement, that it was like the Haley’s Comet of the music industry. I understood how much of an impact they’ve had on the scene, how they’ve inspired current bands that I love, how many of my friends were excited yet also jealous that I was going to be there for this. But let me tell you what the Misfits represent for me. They represent a shitty, abusive, psychologically-damaging relationship I was in when I was 17-19. I dated a guy who loved them. We would listen to them in his car, even though I loved rap music back then. I never complained and was open to learning about them, and Anal Cunt, and Gwar. Mike loved the Misfits so much, and for our first Valentine’s Day, I used my mom’s AmEx to buy him some fancy boxed set that came in a coffin and set me (lol, my mom) back $70. In return, he took me to Donut Connection that night, where I had to watch him eat a donut and drink coffee because I didn’t bring any money with me and he only had a coupon for himself. It’s not that I expected some lavish gift, for him to spend as much on me as I had on him, but it was the fact that he completely disregarded my gift, overlooked the sentiment, and then just took an insulting dump all over the night. So when I think of the Misfits, I think of that fucking asshole and all the shitty things he did to me and how nothing I did for him was ever enough and Henry, I’m sorry I’m a shitty girlfriend but THAT GUY TOOK ALL I HAD TO GIVE. I mean….breathe Erin. Breathe.  So yeah, the Misifts. Cool show. We left after four songs.

Well, if you made it this far, congratulations! Here is a YouTube of my Snapchat stories for all three days, because why not.

I made it through the whole debate without a drop of alcohol. Did I win or lose, I can’t tell. 

Pretty glad I’m off work tomorrow though because I feel like I hit my head off the wall too hard. 

Gotta hand it to Trump though for aligning Henry and me, politically, for the first time in the 15 years we’ve been together. Our mutual hatred for that man has our views and ideals all synced up like the menstrual cycle of two college roommates. 

In other news, what a great weekend! 

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

I try to keep it light and fluffy around here, but I am just too fucking angry right now and ranting to Henry just isn’t cutting it anymore. I need to hear my fingertips murdering the keyboard, so HERE GOES.

It was the year 2000. I was a 20-year-old office manager at my first “real job.” I was learning some basic bookkeeping skills, designing weekly flyers, in charge of handling money brought back by the drivers, printing invoices….

….and being sexually harassed almost daily by my boss’s son.

20 years old and I’m starting to believe that this is a normal thing that happens in the office, being propositioned one minute and then forced to babysit the kids in my office when the wife comes to visit. Society tells me that I should just laugh it off, shrug about it, get some thicker skin.  It was just words, right? Just some lewd, perverted comments that I could either cry about, fight about, or ignore. I was too proud to cry, too scared of getting fired to fight, so I chose to just ignore. It becomes part of my unwritten job description, just another duty in order to earn a paycheck.

Just words. Just words. Just words.

One day, I was standing at the filing cabinet, organizing invoices (a/k/a doing my fucking job) when he ran into my office, GRABBED MY CROTCH, giggled hysterically, and ran out.

And I did nothing. Because this was a family-run business. There was no HR. I didn’t want my boss to fire me because I needed that job. I stayed there for FOUR YEARS because I was naive and believed that I could handle it, that I was strong enough, look how thick my skin is. For four years, I was “strong enough.”

Until I wasn’t. Until I realized that I was confusing “strength” with “numbness” and “complacency.”

I quit in 2004. A mediation between me and the owner happened a few months later and there was a settlement. No apology, though. Because in the eyes of these men, it wasn’t rape. It was “just touching,” right? Maybe some lewd innuendos and comments here and there. So that makes it “not as bad,” you know? It never went any further than that so it was “excusable.” The worst part is that I was almost convinced that this was true. 

But the truth is that outside of that environment, I realized that it didn’t matter how strong I thought I was, what happened was gross and abhorrent, NOT NORMAL, and something that I’ve had to live with every day since. I have four year’s worth of composition books filled with details of what was said and done to me, all these composition books which I will probably never be able to go back and crack open. 

It took me THREE YEARS to get a job after that because I was so scared of putting myself in another situation like that. I didn’t realize just how awful all of this was until I started opening up about it later on, to new co-workers who promised me that it was so far from being OK. 

When I see Donald Trump, I see my ex-boss’s son. That could be him—the man who bragged that he was going to cheat on his wife with me, the man who casually asked me in front of a roomful of men which female celebrity I’d most like to fuck, the man who grabbed my crotch—running for president. Same crude ideals, same perverted values, same disgusting entitlement. If someone is the type of person to make those kinds of misogynistic comments, then chances are, they’re the type of person to eventually turn those words into actions.

It makes me think, if it was that hard for me to step forward and tell someone what was happening, imagine what it feels like to be a RAPE VICTIM.

I think about that, and I just feel so fucking angry. Trump is such a trigger to so many women, just FUCK OFF already. 

This is my current favorite Dance Gavin Dance song. I want to get the whole thing tattooed on my face. (OK FINE — SHARPIED.) I told Henry that it makes me feel like I’m going to throw up and he looked mildly concerned until I said IN A GOOD WAY and then he didn’t care anymore. 

It also makes me feel like I’m leisurely swimming through the calm, sparkling waters of the year 2008. 

How is everything they do so perfect? I’m obsessed. I’m forever obsessed!!

Henry told me to calm down BECAUSE I AM YELLING AND KICKING THE AIR NEAR HIS FACE BECAUSE I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS DAMN RECORD. 

I haven’t done one of my Goofus & Gallant-inspired comic things on here in YEARS, probably not since the time Henry broke my foot with a bowling ball. I still liked Jonny Craig when that happened, that’s how I know it’s been a long time.

But this morning, I was  thinking about how appalled Chris was after the pie party when she and Monica hung back to help us clean up and she got to experience first hand what Henry deals with. We were stripping the pie table of all of the burlap sheets that I use for table cloths, and they were covered with confetti. Chris was all, “SERIOUSLY YOU’RE JUST SHAKING THAT ALL OVER THE GROUND?! WHAT THE HELL?!?!” I couldn’t stop laughing about it, and it inspired me to make a new Goofus & Gallant. (If you’re cool as fuck, you might remember those comics from Highlights for Children.)

I just wasted entirely too  much time making these. Now I have to go watch Dance Gavin Dance videos. Speaking of, there’s a Warped Tour edition Goofus & Gallant here if you’re interested!

OMG OK so Dance Gavin Dance was in town on Monday and it was the longest work day of my life. I was so giddy about it too because DGD is just so much fun and they make me feel pure happiness, which is an anomaly for me considering all I do is cry cry cry at shows. But this current version of DGD, fronted by Tilian, just makes me want to dance my fucking face off.

I was so excited about it that at the end of our weekly meeting that night, I blurted out, “I’M GOING TO SEE DANCE GAVIN DANCE TONIGHT YOU GUYS” and everyone was like, “Wow. Cool story. Poor Henry.”

Before leaving work, I went to change my clothes in the bathroom and that’s when I realized that I only brought jeans and not a shirt so I got to wear the fucking BLOUSE I had on at work to the goddamn DGD show like a fucking WORKING MOM.

I mean, I am a working mom but those kids don’t need to know that. Ugh.

“You still look cute though!” Amber¹ said when I whined to her about it in GAYLE’S HALLWAY.

(Seriously, Gayle has her own hallway.)

UGH FINE.

Henry picked me up from work and we went straight to Millvale, where we had some time to have a very fancy dinner at Subway. I was happy that they have wraps there because I was carrying a pie baby (thanks, pie party) and barely wanted to eat anything but I also didn’t want to pass out at the show. The two people working there were such assholes. Like, grow a personality. Fucking fake it if you have to! Don’t make me feel like a reject because I only want black olives, tomatoes, spinach and then more black olives on my red pepper hummus wrap, you dumb cooze.

Oh for God’s sake, I was so miserable during their set and actually felt like trapped.

Like I was in a cage.

LIKE I WAS A GOOD TIGER IN A CAGE SUBJECTED TO BAD MUSIC.

But then Hail the Sun came out and made it all OK. (Well, for me, anyway. Henry hates Hail the Sun.)

I have nothing but good words for these guys. I’ve seen them so many times over the years (mostly with DGD!) and they just keep getting better. I have a greater appreciation for them now though. I love watching Donovan do his crazy dancing on stage, and that’s Henry’s least favorite part because Henry hates watching people exhibit joy and passion.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

BUT SERIOUSLY THIS FUCKING SONG OW MY HEART. I love when he says “t-t-telephone.” It makes me clasp my hands against my chest like I just watched my kid take his first step or something. I don’t know, I’m trying to be RELATABLE.

I just asked Henry, off the cuff, to tell me what he thinks about Hail the Sun and he murmured, “I don’t think about them.”

He made copious comments about Donovan’s dancing that night though.

I just realized that Henry is just jealous.

And the night just got better from there. The Contortionist came out next and I honestly had never heard of them before so I had no idea what to expect. They started out with a very theatrical, slow burn of an intro. OK, they had my attention. They reminded me of elements of Dredg and Tool. Maybe even a little Earshot. 

Later, I found out that they primarily tour with metal bands I’m just not into, like Born of Osiris, Veil of Maya, Hatebreed, Killswitch Engage — so it makes sense that I’ve never come across them before. That’s way out of my wheelhouse. 

The singer’s voice was ethereal and effortlessly beautiful. But the most interesting part about him was the controlled way he slowly moved around the stage, alternating between fluid and jerky movements. It was like we were watching him through a strobe light and it just made me so uneasy yet absolutely enrapt.

And then he started screaming his fucking throat raw, causing a violent circle pit to open up and people were doing weird hand things and this is when I was convinced that the singer is a cult leader.

I was also kind of legit scared. The singer reminded me of Voldemort.

“HASHTAG SO OBSESSED!” I shouted in Henry’s ear, who just frowned in response.

Henry frowned, not his ear.

There was a moment when the singer hit a certain note so angelically that I spontaneously burst into tears.

Henry knew this was going to happen.

I was hooked, you guys. His voice. Their music. The whole aesthetic. I guess I’m now an official worshiper of the house of The Contortionist. Catch ya later, Catholicism.

I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE THEM AGAIN!!!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

In between bands, Toto’s Africa came on, inciting a deliriously loud sing-along inside Mr. Smalls, and Henry slept through through the whole thing…..while leaning against a wall. 

He told me later that he wasn’t “sleeping,” he was “trying not to pass out.”

LOLOL.

It’s OK to laugh, guys. He’s fine.

And then….OMG OMG OMG it was time for Dance Gavin Dance! You bet your ass I sweat all the way through my dumb blouse during their set because it’s DGD and who can stand still during their show?! I mean, besides Henry?!

Tilian fractured his leg over the summer and was propped up on crutches, so we didn’t get to see any of his sweet dance moves (much to Henry’s relief* — he is like, so hard to impress when it comes to stage presence), but even standing still, he was a fucking star. (He did treat us to some body rolls though because he’s Tilian and that’s what Tilian does.)

*(Does Henry just hate dancing in general? IS HENRY THE DAD FROM FOOTLOOSE?!?!)

The energy in the room was off the charts and I just lost my mind screaming like it was Beatlesmania in 2016. This band inflates my heart with unadulterated, all natural, no-preservatives-added joy. I wish I could explain it, but their sick beats and weird lyrics breathe life back into me, and in one hour they were able to reverse the negative effects the last several months have had on me. HOW?! I don’t know! Aside from Henry’s kids, I have never been able to get any of my friends into this band, so I can’t quite put my finger on what it is about them that draws me to them, but they had a pull on me since the very first time I heard them nearly 10 years ago, and through three different vocalists and a million various line-up changes, my devotion to them has never faltered.

Because they make me feel like THIS! Giddy and ridiculous!

Ugh, they’re just so fun. And their set list was bonkers too – they covered all eras – but my only complaint was that it was so short. Only an hour! They have seven albums at this point and could play for so much longer if they would stop taking so many bands on tour with them. It should have just been Hail the Sun and The Contortionist.

Maybe bring out a chair for Tilian so he doesn’t have to stand on a broken leg, you know? WE DON’T MIND.

At one point, some girl came shooting out of the middle of the crowd and practically lunged at me, putting me in some strange hug-like thing, and nearly knocking me against the wall.

I was so confused, wondering if I knew her.

“I lost my shoe!” she kept yelling to me. And then some guy came and retrieved her. I noticed that she had both shoes on, right before she was swallowed up by the crowd. I exchanged shrugs with the girl next to me and then we laughed and went back to freaking out over Dance Gavin Dance. I LOVE EVERYONE AT DGD SHOWS.

COCAINE CRINGE FEST!!!!

In between songs, Tilian mentioned that this was the first night they had their new, not-yet-released album available at their merch booth, which was perfect because I never got around to pre-ordering it since Riot Fest made us poor, so I told Henry we needed to get it.

“Then we’ll have to leave before it’s over so we don’t have to wait in line,” Henry shouted back into my ear.

I was like OH HELL NAW, I’m not leaving a goddamn DGD early, who does he think he’s suggesting this to? Some working mom in a blouse?

“Well, why don’t you just go over there now and get it,” I countered, and he did as he was told.

Several minutes passed and I became acutely aware that he never returned. Usually I can feel his dumb belly pushing against my back because he stands so fucking close to me like he’s suddenly Mr. Possessive when we all know he doesn’t give a fuck. Yeah, he went to buy the record for me and never came back. That motherfucker went straight back to the car!

Ballsy move, Hank.

Good thing DGD puts me in a zone and I really didn’t care either way. Henry told me later, “I mean, I like Dance Gavin Dance. But there was only like 20 minutes left anyway, and you know, I’ve seen them before, so.”

Wow.

Cool reasoning, bro.

SET LIST:

• Chucky vs. The Giant Tortoise
• Stroke God Millionaire
• On the Run
• Spooks (!!!!!!!!!!!)
• Tree Village
• FLOSSIE DICKEY BOUNCE!
• Death of a Strawberry
• Strawberry Swisher Pt 3 (I lose my mind during the “keep my fingers crossed, I want to be somewhere that I belong” part every single time)
• Betrayed By the Game
• Lemon Meringue Tie <33333333333333333333
• We Own the Night
• Alex English

This just isn’t enough, but I’ll take what I can get.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

You guys, it’s so wonderful. (And yes, the only record player in our house right now belongs to Chooch the Hipster. And he doesn’t let me forget it, either.)

I have been in the best mood since Monday night.

Henry is upstairs sleeping so I just called him on the phone, from the couch, to get a quote from him.

“I cant believe you called me for this,” Henry sighed around his mouth cobwebs. “Why do you make me do this stuff. I don’t know. I like Dance Gavin Dance.”

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN, DANCE GAVIN DANCE. <3

People kept wondering on Sunday how many Pie Parties there have been so far, but no one guessed SIX. Which is the answer. Six.

Six!

How has this not gotten old yet?

Commemorative buttons for those who have been to all six!

I’ll be honest though: I didn’t want to have one this year. You know how you get sometimes, all beaten down by life and you’d rather just wallow in your tear-filled pit of despair but then you remember that being around your peeps makes you happy.

Plus, you know: pie.

So much pie!

This year, I decided to have a theme, so I picked “Exotic.” Give people some type of gyrating star to shoot for, you know? And if anyone opted to just bring a supermarket apple pie, they could always give it a stripper name. Like Brandylynne.

Or Candy.

Candy Apple Pie.

OMG.

Of course, I found some pies for Henry to make which involved hard-to-obtain ingredients. He left the house at like 6am on Saturday in his attempt to find some kind of Asian purple sweet potato. God only knows how many parking lots he wept in before finally finding one.

But the other pie called for matcha (I mean, it was a Matcha Cream pie, so….) but he was all, “I REFUSE TO PAY $18 FOR MATCHA WHEN I ONLY NEED THREE TABLESPOONS.”

Wow. Slow your fucking roll, Hank.

I interrupted his pie-baking several times on Saturday because I was being a emotional vampire and needed hugs to stay alive. He acted like he was so put-out by this, but obliged every time. It was funny because he was wearing AN APRON.

Lol, Henry.

And then we got to have pizza for dinner because fuck if he was cooking after spending all day in the kitchen.

I took this picture before Henry dusted off the sign, which was coated with Trudy (our mannequin/Xmas tree) residue, i.e. green metallic spray paint dust.

After baking, I had Henry make a small pie marquee for the table but he ran of time so we just threw a strand of battery-operated lights on it for the time being. Next year, it’ll be better!

But this is what I mean — having a pie party seems really no-frills and low-stress but then I have to throw in a million elements after I get a “vision” and you know how my “visions” can be: what do you mean you can’t turn this basic park pavilion into a fucking SWISS CHALET BUFFETED BY EDELWEISS, HENRY YOU DICK?!

And speaking of pavilions! There are two that we use exclusively for pie parties and Chooch’s birthday parties, and both of them were already rented. Along with 80% of the other park pavilions. What the hell?! No one ever has park parties in October! Then I had a fleeting vision of every person in this town who hates me (oh, there are a few) having their own competing pie parties at the same time and I got so sad and then paranoid and then really fucking murderous.

But on the way there, we passed our main pavilion (the bae of all pavilions, if you will) and realized that it was being used for some asshole’s first birthday.

So, not a competing pie party.

Henry’s mom came with us and helped with set-up. I use that term loosely but she did more than, say, Janna who promises to help decorate every year and then comes 2 hours after the party starts, so….

Henry left to go get beverage and I decided I would use the portajohn while it was still fresh from Henry’s thorough cleansing. Right as I was about to come out, I heard a male voice and started to panic. Like, was some woodsman tying up Judy and Chooch, getting them ready to roast on the crappy grill that comes as a courtesy with the pavilions? Should I just stay inside the portajohn and pray that he doesn’t know there’s a third thick-thighed entree waiting in the wings?

Instead, I came leaping out awkwardly, like I was going to kick a bitch in the throat if I had to, and that’s when I saw some man doing pull-ups on one of the pavilion rafters, while Judy counted for him.

THE FUCK.

When he was done, Judy lasciviously asked, “What’s the encore?”

“I just keep moving,” he laughed in between pants, toweling off his older gentleman sweat and thanking her for letting him invade our pavilion before jogging off into the horizon.

Wow.

Where did he come from, beneath the moist autumnal sod? A 1993 episode of Bodies In Motion with Gilad?

I’d have offered him so pie but he didn’t seem like the type to let that garbage near his perfectly curated, sweaty, glistening temple. 

SORRY. I think The memory of Judy’s lust intoxicated me for a second there. That guy was old as shit. 

While I fluffed the burlap on the pie table for the 87th time, Judy and Chooch argued to the death over a violent game of Perquacky, which I guess is like Boggle. We bought it at Goodwill specifically for the  pie party because I like to give people shit to do while eating pie, you know? That’s why I use craft paper in lieu of tablecloths and slap down a mason jar of mismatched crayons and markers on each picnic table.  So if you end up sitting with strangers, play hangman or something. JUST PLEASE DON’T LEAVE.

Most of last year’s decorations were salvageable! So that was more time available for me to make my pie party playlist which I will post here because it’s full of Phil Collins and you know, Dance Gavin Dance. You should know that this is the first year we remembered to bring a speaker thingie so that I could play music. Usually the soundtrack is just screaming kids and the ping of Henry sprouting new gray hairs.

LOL. There is no rhyme or reason to this mix. There never is with me.

People started rolling in at exactly 1pm, which I was thankful for because nothing makes a girl feel like a looooooser than when everyone is late to her party. (The pie party has a real relaxed revolving door feel to it though; people come and go all afternoon. THERE IS NO AGENDA OR SCHEDULE OF PARTY GAMES.)

In the next installment, I’ll show you pictures of pies and the people who ate the pies. Very complicated stuff. Blogging about it takes thought, a (chalk) outline, and a certain amount of alcohol. You wouldn’t understand.

Here’s a picture of Drew from Saturday. She just wanted to help with the decorations, you guys. (She was more help than my SON.)

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been a fan of Anthony Green for 12 years now and have never gone to any of his solo shows. I’ve seen Circa Survive a ton of times, and even Saosin and the Sound of Animals Fighting. But never just Anthony.

Henry and I actually had a mild argument over this when he was driving me to Mr. Small’s last Thursday, because even he was like, “No, that’s ridiculous and you must be wrong.”

But then he remembered how relieved he was to be depositing me on a curb and then driving off into the sunset (wait, what direction does the sun set…) with Chooch. I think they went to Taco Bell and then probably back home where they sat around in their underwear until it was time to come back to Millvale and pick me up.

The rest of the evening was full of beautiful music, but very little drama, so I’m afraid that this recap might be a little bland. I didn’t hate anyone there! No one made me angry! I had very little interactions with anyone other than the fancy-shirted bartender from whom I bought my obligatory nerve-numbing Angry Orchard and a few shared smiles with the other Solo Girl who was standing next to me for the entire show.

I considered talking to her at one point but then remembered how lame I sound in these moments.

Anyway, only three bands for this show! Secret Space started a few minutes after I arrived. I took my favorite spot along the right side of the stage and then did that thing where I pretend to be invisible.

I’ve never listened to Secret Space before and didn’t get a change to even give their bio a cursory glance before Thursday. So, they ended up being great! Just a really nice, pop-rock experience. The singer was pretty entertaining between songs, and I wonder how much of that affected my overall opinion. I feel like the music didn’t really grab me until the banter got my attention, but in any case — I thought they were great….

…just not as great as Mat Kerekes, who was next! Full disclosure, when I saw that he was one of the openers for this show, that was when I really knew I needed to get a ticket. Mat is the singer of Citizen, and I love Citizen so much, I wish I could squish them against my chest until their eyes bulge.

Oh shit, Mat was so personable and I wasn’t expecting that! He doesn’t talk much at Citizen shows so I guess I thought this was going to be some serious, somber shit, I don’t know, but he is so hilarious and irreverent!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

He played one of my favorite Citizen songs, “Sleep,” and then Anthony came out and joined at one point too and of course everyone, even the boys, screamed their faces off, like we weren’t about to see Anthony later for 90 minutes straight.

I kept sending Henry pictures and videos in between sets and he was like, “I don’t care. That’s why I’m not there.”

Boo, Henry. Just boo.

Anthony came out around 9:30 and we all just went nuts. He has got to be, out of every band I’m into, the most charismatic musician I’ve ever seen in person. I have left Circa Survive shows feeling like I just worshiped in the coolest fucking church this side of SAINT GERMAIN AND THE VIOLET FLAME. (Seriously, I’m obsessed with this now thanks to GAYLE.)

I wept, I laughed, I cried. It was wonderful. Anthony is such a fucking delight. And he has overcome so much to be able to still take these stages and heal us.

He said the last time he performed solo in Pittsburgh was four years ago when he was touring in support of his Young Legs album, and that the show he played there at Mr. Small’s was the most fucked up he’s ever been.

Of course, there were people who cheered about this.

“No, don’t applaud that! That’s not cool!” Anthony said. “I was such an asshole that night! I spent the whole time talking in a Bane voice and then I got in a fight with some kid and stormed off the stage. If you were at that show, I’m sorry. And thank you for still coming out to see me.”

I was pretty much choking on tears by this point, because his struggle with heroin has been ongoing since I started listening to Circa Survive all those years ago, and his wife has stuck by him through it all. His album Pixie Queen is about that.

I remember seeing Circa Survive once in 2008 (when they opened for Thrice, coincidentally!) and Anthony just seemed like a mess. I think he was laying on the stage through their whole set and at one point I turned to Henry and said, “OMG is he going to die? I don’t want him to die.”

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

It felt good to stand there and scream. And to laugh. And to cry. But mostly it felt good to just smile because that’s something that I hadn’t been doing much last week.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BK902MGjN6c/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

Thank you for being you, Anthony.

****

Recently, I was thinking about how sad I was when I was unable to go to very many shows. Like, I’d see the announcements for bands I liked and then sigh when I saw it was a week night and I couldn’t go because I worked until 9pm & it was a lot more difficult for me to take a day off then.

Or before that when I wasn’t working at all and we just couldn’t afford it. I was lucky if I went to three shows a year then. And I didn’t realize until recently how much of a negative impact that had on me, to love music so much but have to miss out on so many of those experiences.

My mom texted me a link the other night about how people who go to a lot of concerts generally have happier lives and I started to laugh because I had literally just left the Thrice show when I got her text. And it’s true – I can promise you that Henry and I fight a lot less and I don’t feel like I’m sinking in a pit of burning quicksand.

Well, not as much as I used to, anyway.

That being said, I was almost unable to go to the Anthony Green solo show on Thursday because of a last minute shift change and I was ready to raise hell but then everything was fine and I made it to the show and I felt like a thousand pounds of suck had been lifted from my dumb, slumped shoulders.

It was a good reminder not to take these things for granted. To keep going to as many shows as I can because who knows how much longer this will last.

I want to be able to keep paying for concert tickets, not therapy bills.

****

It was pouring down rain by the time the show ended, and that felt kind of perfect. I found Henry and Chooch, sitting down the street in the parked car, looking like creeps, and I rambled the whole way home about how magical Anthony is.

They didn’t care.

I finally managed to get to a point where I can not just tolerate going to shows alone, but I actually enjoy it (don’t think too much into that, Henry!). However, I like when Henry goes with me and then for weeks, I can say things like, “REMEMBER WHEN WE SAW BASEMENT AND ALEX LOOKED SO ADORABLE?!” and Henry will just mumble, “….I guess.”

Today is October 1 for those who don’t have a calendar. I am celebrating that by sitting under a blanket and shivering, which hopefully doesn’t mean I’m getting sick. Henry is currently driving all around Western Pennsylvania, trying to procure the ingredients for the difficult pies I chose to represent us at this year’s pie party.

That being said, I’m bored so here’s another blog post, a virtual landfill of September photos that I would like to delete from my phone now.

Some “3 Fictional Character” thing was circulating all over social media for the last several weeks. I didn’t do it for myself because it would just be SLOTH from the Goonies, three times.

Or maybe just twice and then Heather from Blair Witch as the third because I’m bossy, stubborn, map-stupid and emotional and when that movie came out, all my guy friends side-eyed me. 

 But I did make one for Henry! He doesn’t love it. Andyyyyyy!

Maybe because his didn’t have Leslie Knope on it like everyone else’s.

Crying on the inside.

Not just for me, but for basically everyone I polled in our department, this past week was phenomenally horrible as far as work goes. I cried at one point at my desk on Wednesday because it just felt like I couldn’t do anything right. Not that I’m happy my other work friends also felt frazzled, but it was nice to know I wasn’t alone in the sinking ship. So, it felt kind of significant that as I left work on Friday, the last day of September, there was a double rainbow.

LAUGHTER THHRU TEARS, RAINBOWS THRU RAINDROPS. Something like that, right? It was nice to have that “Everything is going to be OK” sign.

I think that Friday was the first day all week that I actually laughed at work. It kind of felt like things were starting to calm down and then Gayle sent me some website that she found while doing work-related research for Saint German Violet Flame and now I have a new religion, thanks Gayle! Glenn was also looking at the website and just as I was saying, “THIS SOUNDS AWESOME” he was saying, “This guy sounds like a wack job.”

“I’m like the perfect candidate for cults and kidnappings,” I blurted out loud, to which Glenn had no bon mot for once.

I interrupted their serial killer greeting card-making session. So sorry. Also, some lady wants to sell our cards in her shop in like Portland or wherever, and Henry is being such a fucking diva about it. Like, yes or no?!

Henry’s like “First she makes me go to this fucking show and now I have to have my picture taken too? Ugh.”

I was so excited to meet my e-friend Alex for coffee the other night! We met virtually two years ago when our mutual friend Alex paired us up for that Pittsburgh blog swap thing and she wrote on my blog about her favorite Pittsburgh haunts. Also, she was living in Brookline at the time and we somehow never crossed paths. Anyway, this was her last night in Pittsburgh (she’s moving to Colorado) so I was really grateful that she made time for me. She’s a beautiful soul and she reminds me a lot of myself when I was 19-22. No fear, out-going, and ready for adventure. THEN HENRY HAPPENED. Lol, j/k. I chose this destiny.

Anyway, my favorite part of the night was when talked about our favorite scene bands from 2005.

I almost messaged her that day to cancel. This was the day that I cried at my desk and I was like, “I JUST WANT TO GO HOME AND STUFF MY HEAD UNDER A PILLOW” but then I dusted myself off and forced myself to leave the house and thank god for that because just the sheer act of talking to a veritable stranger was the slap in the face that I needed, so thank you for that, Alex. <3

When we were in Chicago, Henry’s mom broke our kitchen faucet (lol) and this is Chooch and Henry messaging about how she wanted Chooch to get Hot Naybor Chris to come over and fix it. Lol at “she didn’t say ‘hot naybor’ obviously.”

Lunch break feet.

Summer’s birthday party happened earlier in the month and that was fun! Can’t believe she’s a year old already! My Timehop the other day was from 4 years ago when Wendy, Barb, Kaitlin and I were at Bucca di Beppo and Wendy said if she ever had a baby she’d name it Stoma. (Barb had recently had a surgery and this was a hot topic for Wendy – she loves gross body talk.) We were cracking up about this last week because back then, having a baby was something that Wendy was so sure she didn’t want! It’s crazy how things change – now I can’t imagine Wendy without her Summer! She is such a natural at this mom thing. 

And Henry finally picked up my new/old wheelchair. I LOVE YOU, WHEELCHAIR!

Anyway, Henry is home now with all the pie shit so I want to go and complain to him about life. I hope you’re making dangerous choices this weekend. Live it up.

I think, if I had to choose, that Saturday was my favorite day of Riot Fest. Henry was being a cunt on Friday (he claims he was “tired” and “didn’t feel well;” see also: IS OLD AS FUCK) but after a really great leisurely morning of exploring Little Village and having some legit Mexican breakfast, we were both like, IN SYNC. Like MENSTRUAL CYCLES. But without the mood swings.

And blood.

Wait – did I bleed at all that day?

No.

:(

Originally, I said we didn’t have to get there early because the first band I had my heart set on seeing didn’t even start until 2 or some other late as fuck time of the day. However, we still ended up getting there by 11:30, without even rushing, and there was barely a line by that point so we just strode right on in.

Well, Henry did.

I had to be frisked and have my purse pillaged and I forgot that I had a plastic container of Mentos gum in there and the security broad threw it out, nooooo.

We had some time to check out the vendors, one of which was our favorite–Choonimals! We bought Chooch an obligatory pizza shirt because god forbid we come home empty-handed. I wanted to get him a Trump shirt that said Fuck Boi on it but Henry frowned heavily even though he approved of the shirt in general.

BANDS OF THE DAY

• Brick + Mortar: The first band we saw was Brick + Mortar on the Roots Stage. I didn’t know anything about them other than what I read on the Riot Fest website a few weeks ago. It was just two guys playing honest indie rock, and I’m going to be real here: I’m not sure if I genuinely liked the music, or if I was just captivated by the hilarious guy they had on stage with them, dancing around like an idiot, coming back out dressed like a fairy-thing, and just being overall entertaining. Henry liked them too, so you know that the music wasn’t very offensive. It was a great start to the day though! Especially when the singer thanked everyone for taking a chance on them and that they had recently won a battle against their record label for the rights to their music, and that’s always something to clap about.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BK8LqP_DsFH/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

• Plague Vendor: Right after Brick + Mortar ended, Plague Vendor started their set on the neighboring Riot Stage. I told Henry that I didn’t think he was going to like them, but Henry surprised me by saying, “They’re not bad. He’s like…Mick Jagger and Iggy Pop had a baby.” WHOA. He likes a band, kind of, enough to make comparisons?! This day was really off to a great start. (Plague Vendor is fucking amazing, by the way—frenetic, rowdy California punk rock fronted by a singer with moves slick enough to make MJ grab his crotch in appreciation.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

• Microwave, acoustic set: Thank god for these StubHub acoustic sets, because I was unable to see Microwave perform later that day as a full band, due to scheduling conflicts. (They had the unfortunate scheduling luck of going up against Motion City Soundtrack, who were playing their penultimate show, but now I’m seriously regretting my choice.) I always miss this band when they come to town! Henry immediately peaced out, getting lost in the depths of his phone (what does he actually read on his phone!? I can’t even imagine. He only has like 79 Facebook friends so scrolling through this feed can’t take very much time and what else do old people use Smartphones for?!), and ignored the whole acoustic set, which admittedly wasn’t the best acoustic set I’ve ever seen (Nathan, the singer, seemed kind of nervous) but it was still good to hear some Microwave, even in that soft, scaled back capacity. He even covered that fucking “I’ve got a brand new pair of rollerskates” song which I thought for sure would appeal to Henry, since he’s old and probably danced with some big-haired hussy to that song at a school dance at some point in his life.

Henry ignoring Microwave.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BKd6yiHAhkA/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

• Jessica Hernandez: NOPE. She was playing on the main stage and we had time to kill so we were sitting down in the grass and I was just like, “I CAN’T TAKE THIS BROAD’S VOICE, UGH BUT I’M TOO COMFORTABLE TO MOVE.” Also, I tried to snag a sip of Henry’s beer around this point but he yelled at me because there was “SECURITY” right next to us and I wasn’t wearing a 21+ wristband. Oh for fuck’s sake, Henry. Like anyone would ever do a double-take if they saw me drinking alcohol! Unless they thought Henry was my dad and I’m a super-old-looking teenager? A teenager who’s seen some shit? Anyway, this broad considers her band to be “dark soul and goth pop” but I didn’t get that vibe at all. All I got was some Gwen Stefani-mimicking annoying bray backed by trombones. Not a fan.

• HippoCampus: We walked over to the Roots Stage to wait for Hippocampus to start, but Jessica Hernandez said, “We got two more songs for you!” and I was like, “WHAT? HOW?!!?” because it was like one minute away from Hippocampus starting on the neighboring stage. The Riot and Roots staging alternate, so as soon as one band is done, the next band immediately starts on the other stage, and Riot Fest is pretty good about keeping the schedule accurate. However, Jessica wouldn’t shut her trap, and then the powers-that-be did my favorite thing ever: THEY SHUT HER DOWN. She just kept singing, no sound coming out, until she finally realized what was happening and frantically waved her mic around like they were going to turn the sound back on for her, like it was an accident, like she was better than the next band and allowed to abuse her time on stage. Fuck OFF, Jessica Hernandez. Meanwhile, Hippocampus ended up being kind of boring, but I’m still glad they didn’t have their set cut short by that dumb bitch.
• High Waisted: Since Hippocampus wasn’t capturing my heart, I looked at my app to see who else was playing. I quickly skimmed the bio for High Waisted, which mentioned 1960s SURF and DREAM POP, and I was on board. “I thought you don’t like female singers?” Henry asked when we rolled up to the tiny Storyheart Stage. He will never understand my criteria. This band seemed like it was in my wheelhouse and I was willing to give them a chance, and thank god for that because they ended up being a huge highlight of the whole weekend, especially when they had a legit Dick Dale breakdown at the end of the set. Plus, the singer, Jessica Louise, was hot AF! Unlike that other Jessica (Hernandez *hisssss*), this one had an Erin-pleasing voice. They’re on tour right now with Somos and Free Throw and of course it’s not coming to shitty Pittsburgh.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

• Motion City Soundtrack: They were next on the Roots Stage and Henry begrudgingly followed me there. Neither of us are actually fans of this band and in fact, I can’t tell you how many times I walked right past whatever stage they were playing at numerous Warped Tours. I think probably because I associate them with Christina’s crazy sister. But this is the last tour they’re doing, probably for like 5 years at which point they will realize how much money there is to be made on reunion tours, and then they’ll be all, “Wow, we forgot how much we loved making music as this band so now we have a new album coming out! And another tour after that!” I mean, I can’t judge. At least five bands I really fucking love have done this to me over the last 10 years. But still, I wanted to be there and actually watch them for what might be my only chance ever. I only really know two songs and they played both of them so I was content. Henry made his “I don’t get it” face the whole time, and truthfully, we spent most of the set willing someone to “accidentally” step on this bitch who wouldn’t stand up:

https://www.instagram.com/p/BKmB424AsBD/?taken-by=ohhonestlyconcerts

Chooch’s new shirt for picture day.

Admittedly, my favorite part of the set was when some girl pushed her way through us and Henry casually said, “Oh hello, come on in.” I don’t know why it made me crack up as much as it did, other than the fact that I was fucking high on life. And then we saw a guy with flipflops literally tattooed to his feet. OH OK.

• Bob Mould: I hope if you’re reading this that you know who Bob Mould is, but if you don’t: GET YOUR STUDY ON. He’s a living alt-rock legend, and his 80s bands Husker Du and Sugar are both essential for any music fanatic. I have never seen him before so I was pretty giddy about this, especially since he was supposed to be at the first Riot Fest I ever went to but then WASN’T and then when he was in Pittsburgh, I WAS AT RIOT FEST. Guys, these are the big problems in my life, OK? Anyway, a fun fact about Bob Mould is that when Henry and I first started dating, or whatever you want to call, he was way more accepting of my musical tastes and Bob Mould’s “New #1” was like, our song or something. I guess. We haven’t listened to it together in like 10 years because we don’t love each other anymore.

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

• Balance & Composure: But, as much as I love me some Bob Mould, I REALLY FUCKING LOVE ME some Balance & Composure, so we split the Riot Stage about 30 minutes into Bob’s set and ran over to the small Rebel Stage, where B&C was setting up and I pulled Henry all the way to the front, which he just LOVES. Right away though, I heard A Voice that immediately made me feel angry and tense and then I realized it was the obnoxious Minnesota know-it-all from the line to get in on Day One! Henry started cracking up and I just slowly turned back around and proceeded to block her out. Luckily, I had SAM and her SNOWCONE to fixate on. She was standing next to me and I know her name is SAM because she saw one of her friends, who came over with another friend, and introductions were made but then they left and SAM continued to stand alone with her BLUE snowcone. She was interesting. And of course we saw her like 87 times the rest of the weekend too. Always alone! I felt so sad for her. But then B&C started playing and everyone around me just melted away. For being up against so many heavy-hitters and being relegated to the smallest stage, they really had a shit ton of people there for them! I don’t know what to say about this band other than they are just excelsior alt-rock, kind of emo-revivalist, really great song-writing, the kind of music you want to listen to in the car while driving around in October wearing your favorite sweater and MAYBE DRINKING A MAPLE LATTE TOO. They are for sure an autumn band for me, like just writing about this right now makes me want to go on a haunted hayride, good thing it’s October 1. (OMG it’s October 1 and I’m not done writing about Riot Fest, whyyyyy.) They have a new album coming out so they started their set off with two songs from that and then Jon (he’s the SINGER, you guys) admitted that they were nervous as fuck to perform those songs for the first time, and it did kind of seem like they were stiff and uncomfortable but once they dove into the old jams, they were shining like diamonds. For the record, I love the new songs they’ve released so far. This is one of them, it’s called POSTCARD and you should listen:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

Go back to Minnesota.

After Balance and Composure, we had some time to wander around and forage for food before Brand New started at 6:15. It was around this time that I thought I saw Justin Bobby and Henry was all WHO and I said “Justin Bobby” and Henry was all “…………….” and then I yelled, “FROM THE HILLS!?!?” Fuck Henry, turn on MTV sometime in 2006, OK?

I ended up getting one of the most texturally interesting veggie burgers ever:

I think it was made with potatoes. I liked it. It could have been warmer but it’s better than the soft pretzel I’d be eating at Warped Tour, so who am I to complain. Those food vendors are amazing every year though I feel like this year wasn’t as on point as the past two years. (I’M STILL NOT OVER THE FACT THAT DARK MATTER WASN’T THERE WITH THEIR HOT, HEAVENLY NECTAR A/K/A COFFEE. I missed those tiny donuts that were there last year too. Come back, tiny donuts.)

We saw, for the second time that day, a girl wearing the same Emarosa “For Fox Sake” shirt that Chooch has. She was sitting down with her friend and I did that thing that Henry loves where I boisterously comment on someone’s attire (I can’t tell you how many times I get all Tourettes-like when we’re in another city and I see someone wearing a Penguins shirt). I ran up to the girl and screamed, “I LOVE EMAROSA!” She was clearly caught off guard. I could tell by the way her hand flew to her chest and she let out a startled, “Oh!” But then she said, “Yeah, they’re fantastic!” and that response satisfied me so I continued on my way.

“Why do you have to do that?” Henry groaned.

Anyway, it was around this point where I started to notice a lot of vendors had put up Morrissey-related signs regarding their food and I didn’t realize until later it was because one of his stipulations for playing Riot Fest was that all food vendors had to stop selling meat after 8pm. Obviously I’m a huge fan of THE CURE but I am just a basic, average fan of the Smiths and not really a fan at all of Morrissey as a solo artist (not for any reason other than I just never really paid attention to it because I’ve been too busy worshiping at the feet of Robert Smith almost my whole life), so I didn’t know that this is something Moz supposedly requires of all venues he’s playing at. I guess it really sent Riot Fest attendees over the edge though because the comments I was reading online were so fucking hostile. Like, if you ever hear me complain about not being able to eat a certain food for a two hour block, please fucking kill me. Personally, as a vegetarian, this really made me respect Morrissey a lot more. How fucking punk rock is that?! Plus it incited so much controversy, which come on, who doesn’t love some fucking music drama!?

No one thought Riot Fest would comply to Moz’s demands, but they did and that made my veggie burger taste even more delicious and satisfying, not gonna lie. It’s not everyday us herbivores get a victory.

Riot Fest really starts to get crowded around 5. That’s around the time my stranger-danger anxiety usually starts to set in, but the way they had the stages set up this year made it feel like less of a cluster.  I mean, I still clung to Henry’s shirt tail like my life depended on it, but it wasn’t as gnarly as past years.

• Brand New: Henry was being so nice to me around this time! So now instead of associating Brand New with terrible Christina things, I think I will associate them with Henry kind of showing me something that resembled affection! It was nice. But then he said he only knew one song that Brand New played that night and I was like, “YOU’RE A FUCKING IDIOT THERE IS NO WAY YOU DIDN’T KNOW AT LEAST 75% OF THAT SET LIST, YOU MOTHERFUCKING MORON” and then the mood was killed. But seriously though it was a delightful set. We stood far back enough that we didn’t have to deal with any of their asshole fans (honestly, Brand New has some of the douchiest fans I’ve ever encountered and I can’t even imagine them in real life scenarios outside of a Brand New show). I feel really lucky to have gotten to see them twice in two months, although I’m kind of annoyed that I didn’t jump at the chance to buy tickets to their upcoming Cleveland show because they just announced that they’re playing The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me in its entirety, fuck my life. I also think it’s kind of interesting that Jesse Lacey basically made a career of trolling his fans yet people still fall over themselves to see his band play. There’s a sick kind of respect there, I guess. (I do think this band deserves every accolade it receives though and anyone who says they’re overrated can go fuck themselves because I’m pretty sure Jesse Lacey is a fucking mad genius and when he sings Degausser I lose it every time.) Here is someone else’s video of it because I only have a few Snaps:

Honestly, what else is there to say about Brand New?

Somewhere around this time, we had our third conversation about rats (????). This time we were talking about how we saw rat traps in the yards of the houses we walked past that morning and Henry was mouthing off about how bad rats are, etc., and I said, “Yeah but, some of the rats of NIMH were good though…”

“Those were cartoons, Erin,” Henry sighed.

JUDGING.

• Death Cab For Cutie: This band needs no introduction. There was a chunk of my early 20s when they were my shit, I loved this band so much, before that TV show The O.C. made them a household band (I mean, good for them! But I’m just saying…) However, I stopped listening to them almost entirely after Transatlanticism. Not because I thought they got sucky or anything like that, but because I associated them with this. Basically, I was listening to DCFC when I found out that someone I had a very dysfunctional relationship with had been killed in a car accident/alleged suicide. Pretty hard not to think about that anytime I hear Death Cab nowadays. I actually saw them a week after that happened too, at Coachella in 2004. The first and last time I’d ever see them live, until now at Riot Fest. And I have to say, it felt like beautiful torture. It felt like having my heart ripped out of my chest, only to have it pumped full of life and love and reinserted. It felt healing and necessary. But…if they had played anything from Something About Airplanes, I probably would have had to leave. No lie.

(OH GOD why did I just let myself listen to this?!)

Riot Fest, you are a fucking violent stumble, heart-in-throat, down memory lane, Jesus Christ. I wasn’t ready.

• Morrissey: I had a chance to begin processing the past that had been dredged up slammed into my face after Death Cab’s set since Morrissey kept us waiting for like 30 minutes. I get it, you’re a big star, but FYI: The Cure has never left me standing out in the dark, looking at my imaginary watch. SORRY TO KEEP MAKING COMPARISONS. There was some 30 minute long video montage that we had to suffer through and I guess he does this at all of his shows? OK that’s fine, but maybe don’t do that when you’re playing a festival and people have been there since noon and just want to see you play now so that we can all leave and pass out in our shitty Motel 6 hopefully-clean beds. People were leaving left and right, and Henry really wanted to leave too, but I got all white knight-y and said reasoned, “Come on, it’s Morrissey. We have to see him at least once.” Because unless someone gives me a free ticket, I can’t imagine that I would ever go to a show specifically to see him (unless the Smiths suddenly reunite, then it’s game on). There was a moment where we actually thought that maybe he seriously wasn’t going to be there after all, because when the Riot Fest lineup was announced last spring, he was like, “I never agreed to perform at Riot Fest so this is news to me” in typical Moz-fashion. I mean, you have to admire his consistency with being notoriously difficult and coy, I guess. He did, obviously, come out and immediately began singing “Suedehead” in his typical bombastic fashion and I found myself saying, “IT’S OK MORRISSEY, WE’RE NOT MAD!” because that damn voice. And: “By the way, thanks for opening with a song I know!”

When he sang “Ganglord,” there were images of police violence splayed out on the screen behind him and while it was difficult to watch, it felt so fucking important and I had to give him credit because that was a message that needed to be forced on everyone watching. Like, “Hey guys, you’re here right now enjoying your life at Riot Fest when this is the shit that’s happening in your idiotic country right now. Don’t forget that.” Henry hates it when musicians use the stage as a soapbox but I’m all for it. I feel like more people are going to listen to what their music idols have to say than what a politician is jawing off about, so go for it, Morrissey. Tell us to Dump Trump! WE’RE TRYING!

We stayed for five songs then made our way back down the streets lined with rat traps and rejoiced when we saw our car was still in one piece in the shady parking lot where we left it that morning.

This was by far the best and most emotionally satisfying day of Riot Fest and I wish I could hold it in my hand and squeeze it lovingly like a dove BUT NOT TOO HARD SO I DON’T KILL IT.