Oh hey guys, B-line Story Time!

Early Thursday morning, right before 6am if my blurry eyes were looking at the time properly, I woke up to what sounded like an explosion, a loud bang, followed by tons of masculine shouting. I had slept on the couch that night because sometimes I like to fall asleep to Korean stuff playing on YouTube (leave me alone), so when I opened my eyes the first thing I saw was that my living room was flooded with flashing red and blue lights. I jumped off the couch and ran to the window.

There were cops and SWAT vehicles ALL UP AND DOWN MY STREET.

My heart was racing and I felt dizzy with anxiety. My first thought was HOW DID THEY FIND ME.

I mean: I DIDN’T DO IT.

I mean: NO SRSLY, WHAT DID I DO!?

But after the first few seconds of shock wore off, I realized that they weren’t coming for me after all. Even though it sounded like they had my house surrounded and were actually INSIDE my house.

Oh wait…they kind of were.

BECAUSE THEY WERE AT MY NEIGHBOR’S.

THE GUY WHO LIVES ON THE OTHER SIDE OF MY DUPLEX.

WE SHARE A FUCKING WALL.

I heard an undecipherable shouting, someone yelling about drugs.

Of course. It’s always motherfucking drugs.

Chooch had woken up too and that boy wakes at NOTHING so you know shit was apocalyptic up here on P-Ave. I went flying upstairs and joined him in my bedroom, where we sat at the foot of my bed, peeking out the blinds. I called Henry at work and he said that Hot Naybor Chris had already called him because he too heard an explosion. Now that I think about it, I think all I heard was the banging of the front door being knocked in, but Chooch said he for sure heard an explosion followed by a bright flash of light outside his window and that the explosion sounded like it came from upstairs. So we think the cops might have used a flash bomb upstairs before entering the neighbor’s bedroom.

You guys. My mind was spinning. With Boots, that fucking piece of white trash who lived there last year, something like this would be expected. In fact something similar did happen to him but I was at work for that one. And that was because he robbed and assaulted a man. (Janna looked him up last night out of curiosity and I’m happy to report that that d-bag is currently in jail.)

But this current guy…he seemed so NORMAL. I know, I know, that’s how it always works. The neighbor of BTK goes on record saying, “But Dennis was so normal!” Ted Bundy’s grandma talking about how he helped her carry her groceries like a NORMAL guy. We’ve all heard that before. But when this guy moved in last spring, after the landlord literally had to gut and rebuild the interior of that unit after Boots destroyed it with his drug-induced stupors, Chooch and I went out to introduce ourselves and it became a thing that we could exclude Henry from, you know?

Like, we knew the neighbor better than Henry because we met him first. It was kind of like a Parker’s sitch. I don’t want to say his name, so we’ll make one up: Ned.

I was so happy to have Ned next door after the horrors of Boots! There was a woman who lived there too, she was occasionally annoying (she talked SUPER LOUD and fought with Ned a lot) but overall, they were pretty normal people, didn’t come and go at all hours of the night, DIDN’T SLAM THE DOOR THANK THE FUCKING LORD. Just pretty regular neighbors. In fact, the only thing they gave us to obsess about was trying to figure out their relationship. We never saw them leave together in the same car, or even at the same time, and they seemed to just not like each other. I think we settled on the belief that they were siblings or cousins, maybe.

She told me her name once when we were both leaving for work at the same time, but a truck drove past just as she said it so I just pretended like I heard because I didn’t feel like extending the conversation by asking her to repeat it.

One time we talked about the weather and she was like, “GIRL I WILL TAKE THIS RAIN OVER THAT COLD SHIT WE’VE BEEN HAVING” and I was like, “Ok.”

She was fairly unassuming too. Always dressed in workout clothes. Not like slummy, grimy sweatshirts or whatever, but really nice workout clothes. And she was in great shape too. So in my head, she was an aerobics instructor.

COINCIDENTALLY, she was not there while all of this was going on Thursday morning. DID SHE KNOW? WAS SHE THE MOLE? WERE THEY AFTER HER TOO?

I kept thinking it had to be her. I wanted it to be her because I really liked Ned and didn’t want to believe that he did something bad.

But after an hour of listening to the drug task team tear the house apart, an hour of crashing and banging and shattering and clattering, police radios squawking, the police dog barking, the SWAT team eventually pulled out. So I was like, “MAYBE IT WAS A MISTAKE! MAYBE THEY DIDN’T FIND ANYTHING!”

But then….I looked out the window again and saw him.

Ned.

Standing on the sidewalk, surrounded by police clad in hoodies and vests.

Hand-cuffed.

“They have Ned cuffed!” I hoarsely whispered to Chooch, and then we started to cry a little.

Like, it actually hurt to see him out there with his head hanging.

This is the third neighbor in a row over there who has been arrested in dramatic fashion (the lady who lived there before Boots was arrested by the US Marshall; we think she part of some car theft ring), but for some reason, this is the one that hurts, man. I felt some type of affinity toward Ned. I wanted him to kick out that broad and be able to have a quiet existence without her yelling at him. I was so Team Ned.

“You didn’t even know him!” Henry yelled at me that night when I started crying about it with my hands over my heart and saying, “I FEEL SO BAD FOR NED. I HOPE HE DIDN’T DO IT. MAYBE HE WAS FRAMED!!!!!”

And, in the middle of the K-drama we were watching, “DO YOU THINK NED IS OK!?”

I keep having these sad montages of my interactions with Ned whirring through my mind. Like when we were both coming home at the same time and he was telling me that he was going to South Carolina because his daughter was graduating early from college, and he was worried about the impending snow storm. And I was like, “Be careful out there!”

Or the time we were both checking our mail boxes at the same time on Halloween and he was like, “I guess I better run out and get candy, the kids’ll be coming” and I laughed, “And mine will be one of them!”

“Remember when we were walking to CVS the other night and Ned was driving down the street and we waved at each other?” I sadly asked Henry yesterday and he was like, “Please stop.”

No one has been over there since this happened Thursday morning, except for the landlord (HNC called him immediately, he’s such a Town Gossip!), and the landlord said that the cops completely trashed the place. Once again, he’s got an empty unit that needs a ton of work before he can rent it again.

HELLO DUM-DUM MAYBE DO BETTER BACKGROUND CHECKS?!

Anyway, I snuck over there last night to check for mail in the mail box because I don’t know Ned’s last name and we wanted to see if we could figure out what was going on. His name wasn’t on anything, but hers was. We looked her up and if this is the same woman, which I think probably is because her name is pretty unique, SHE RECENTLY GOT OUT OF JAIL, DRUG-RELATED OF COURSE.

Ugh. But this made me have hope, that maybe it was her they were after, maybe Ned was framed, maybe he took the fall for her.

But then Henry got some intel from his cop contact who said that a normal drug sweep usually only entails a handful of cops, not SWAT. Guys I’m telling you, our street was lit up like a popo Christmas tree. There had to have been at least 20 cops out there. His source also said that coke was found, and gave him the name of the man arrested.

AND IT WAS NOT NED’S NAME.

There’s a man who is often over there, we thought he was even living there for awhile, so first I thought that maybe he was there when this happened, and he got arrested too.

But I only saw Ned in cuffs. And that other guy’s car wasn’t here.

So then I sadly let myself think the inevitable: DID NED GIVE US A FAKE NAME.

We looked up the name the source gave us and if it’s Ned, then we have essentially been living next door to a leader of a fucking heroin ring. There was a well-known incident here in Pittsburgh from the early 2000s that this guy was involved in, where a popular and infamous nightclub was used as a front. The DEA was involved and this guy, if it’s actually Ned or not I don’t know, served about 10 years in prison but then was let out when some law was passed to reduce sentences for non-violent drug crimes. The dates match up. The age of the guy named in the articles we read match the age of the guy arrested next to us.

OMFG WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING NEXT DOOR TO US. Literally every other house on our block is just…regular. Older people. Families. Just a regular city street! The common denominator is….(no, not me, which is what Glenn suggested)…THE LANDLORD. Maybe he’s the top dog!?

We’re trying to get more information. Today, one of Ned’s friends, this guy with a ginger beard who just looks like he’s probably a jerk, stopped over just as we were getting ready to pull out of the parking lot, so we sat in the car and watched him go in the house for less than 30 seconds AND THEN LEAVE. WHAT WAS HE DOING I’M SO SCARED.

I don’t really understand why I’m having such Emotion over this whole ordeal but it really fucking sucked to see that guy getting arrested. I felt so disappointed, yet worried. OK, so maybe we only ever had like three encounters with each other, but I was so happy to have a neighbor who wasn’t, I don’t know, potentially raping strung-out ladies next door; covering holes in his windows with cereal boxes; stomping up and down the steps at all hours of the night in his cement-block boots; and stealing from the veritable grab-bag of squatters he was letting live there.

Ned seemed like a decent guy. I feel so fucking duped.

So hoodwinked.

So fooled.

I  think I actually have some slight PTSD from this. It was so scary, like they were in our house. It was a really scary way to wake up, let me tell you.

“So, those people were like major drug lords but they only paid me $3 to shovel their sidewalk? Wow,” Chooch muttered, suddenly not sorry for Ned anymore.

If you’re keeping score, this makes 3 out 3 recent neighbors who have moved out because now they live in a prison.  That side of the house is cursed.

Here’s some free advice for the landlord: do better background checks maybe? Like, is this even happening at all? And perhaps find a nice elderly couple to rent to. Half-deaf so my constant Kpop won’t cause complaints, she knits, he does crossword puzzles.

Usually, Henry goes to “the store” alone. I put “the store” in “quotes” because the inside joke is that he’s really “having an affair.” But the reality is that “going to the store” is literally Henry’s get-away. I imagine he just roams around the aisles in a daze, all zoned out to the adult contemporary tunes wafting from the rafters, a lone tear softly rolling down his weathered cheek.

I’m fine with this because I typically hate shopping of any kind, especially the grocery kind. But there was nothing else to do last weekend (Chooch was sick AGAIN! This sick-season has been terrible), so I gladly tagged along for the food-shopping adventures.

First! Saturday morning, we walked to Pitaland for, well, pita. Chooch wanted pita and hummus and when you live within walking distance from a legit Mediterranean market, you don’t very well go to Shop n Save for a tub of greasy Sabra.

You feel me?

I used to be terrified of Pitaland for years when I first moved to Brookline. I’m sure it made sense to me at the time because I’m such a rational flower blossom, but now I’m just like, ‘I CAN’T BELIEVE I WASTED ALL THAT TIME AVOIDING PITALAND.” Honestly, I would shield my face anytime I walked past it! Whaaaat was I thinking.

Now I like to go with Henry and sample the olive bar (it’s encouraged) and check to see if they have any weird fruit. (Sometimes that have persimmon but nothing much more crazy than that.) Henry has become friendly with one of the guys who works there, who is also a professor, so he thinks he’s really cool because the guy will always come out and shake Henry’s hand, and then Henry will quickly look around to make sure people were watching that. It’s so lame.

So yeah, we went to Pitaland and got pitabread, hummus, and two different kinds of olives because why the hell not. We’re adults!

Later that night, Henry had to go to “the real store.” I went with him because sometimes it’s fun to follow him around like a lemming and ask him questions about cleaning products and coupons. We went to Kuhn’s, which is a grocery store pretty close to us and the one Henry frequents the most if he just needs basic things, because it’s a pretty no-frill establishment. It’s actually surprising that they even sell Halo Top there, to be honest.

I had to laugh because now all of Henry’s cashier and bagger friends there know that he’s not a single dad. Henry, exposed!

I loudly scoffed at the produce section and asked, “ARE WE GOING TO THE ASIAN MARKET TOMORROW? I can’t eat this crap.”

P.S. the Asian market is the only one I enjoy going to.

I was really excited when we entered the bakery area but then some jackass walked past me and attempted to assassinate me with his disgusting drug store cologne. Thanks, guy. No bakery smells for me!

There’s an Indian market in the same shopping center as Kuhn’s, so I dragged Henry into it after he put the groceries in the car. I’m always on the look-out for new exotic candies to thrust upon my co-workers, but they had all of the same stuff I got at the last Indian market which is still sitting untouched in the Pumpkin of Confectionary Horrors. (It’s not that the pan pasand candy is BAD per se…it just tastes like you’re sucking on someone’s grandma’s recently-perfumed neck, that’s all.)

So instead, we bought some cookies that were just OK.

Sunday was more marketing! We went to two Asian markets in the Strip: Sam Bok because they have a wonderful fridge full of homemade banchan and I had been straight craving kkaennip. There were two women in the next aisle over talking and I understood like three words of their conversation…baby steps, lol.

Then we had to fight our way through the Sunday Daydrinkers to our favorite Asian market: WFH Oriental. In my head, I call it Work From Home because that’s the acronym we use on roll call at work when we’re working from home.

Riveting.

We got more jujubes! Honestly, if you have an Asian market in your town, go check out the produce! And don’t be afraid to ask someone if you don’t know what you’re looking at. We’ve added so many delicious staples to our meals that way, like baby taro. We eat so much baby taro, like savages, motherfucker.

Speaking of taro, I wanted bubble tea so we want to Pink Box in Squirrel Hill (not a market per se, but I’m including it) because they have delightful Asian baked goods so we stuffed our faces with milk bread and whatever.

Mmm, red bean.

All those different markets we went to, yet Henry had toast and Hot Fries for breakfast on Sunday. I mean, friendly reminder that when you’re a grown-up, you can eat whatever you want for breakfast. Jeffrey Dahmer even ate people — dare to dream!

Well, that concludes my totally boring story about how I tagged along when Henry performed his housewife duties at the market.

One of my favorite pastimes is following the cats around the house and taking pictures of them. More so Drew than Penelope because (no offense, Penelope) Drew actually does stuff while Penelope is mostly being a loaf somewhere out of sight.

Sigh.

*(When I was in elementary school, I used to watch this block of TV on PBS called Britcom Blitz and one of the shows was Man About the House, featuring Yootha Joyce, and that kick-started this weird Yootha Joyce obsession that I carried into middle school and even used her name as a pen name for a poetry project in 7th grade Communications class and literally no one knew who Yootha Joyce was because why would they.)

**(Anyway, that’s where the title of this blog post comes from.)

In this edition (I honestly typed out “addition” at first. I am not getting enough sleep, sigh #2), Drew gives a Pioneer Ave. Gallery tour.

Here, we find Drew perched in front of a gallery wall of her favorite person in the whole world, Chooch. Literally, this whole chunk of the house is one huge shrine to that kid. I guess we love him, who knew.

Here, we find Drew somewhere she shouldn’t be—the fucking mantel, which features an original piece of Chooch pottery, a Somnambulant painting of my Pappap, and some Mexican folkart that I bought at a vintage shop in Cleveland.

Also: a dead plant, SHINee and Jonghyun albums (also art), and a rock from outside of my first apartment.

Here, we find Drew busted as she’s about to dive off the mantel and onto a chair. Her ass is rudely obstructing a Somnambulant painting of G-Dragon (<3), an old camera from my Pappap’s house, and an old hand mirror that I found in the bathroom closet when I moved into this house in 1999. YES, I CONSIDER THIS TO BE A PIECE OF MY PERSONAL ART COLLECTION OK. It’s a motherfucking relic.

Here, we find Drew losing herself in the lyrics to The Cure’s “Same Deep Water As You,” also featuring this gorgeous drawing of Robert Smith that I bought on eBay in 1999 and have cherished ever since.

Here, we find Drew chilling on top of a curio cabinet, next to the RIP CAT MEMORIAL WALL. Also, dangling ice cream cones = art.

Good night from this crazy 고양이!

Stay turned for my next blog post which is about, OMG get ready, going grocery shopping with Henry over the weekend. God, can you even stand the suspense.

Whenever I wanna feel like 1996 Erin, sitting on my purple bedspread in my purple-carpeted room with my purple-foiled wallpaper and light sculptures, applying my too-dark lipstick while barely being able to see past my too-long bangs, checkin’ my pager that I had for no other reason than I was a rich suburban kid, I put on some Dean because something about his music and his voice particularly takes me all the way the fuck back to those days when I was 16 and nothing else mattered but listening to WAMO and writing in my journal and I didn’t have bills or real life drama other than the niggling fear that I might have worn the same Karl Kani hoodie twice that month OH LAWD NO.

All of this is to say I’m stressed the fuck out but I’ve been falling asleep to a Dean/K-Grooves playlist lately and it’s got me waking up feeling alright. Deep breaths, everyone. Exhale. Eat a fucking candy bar. Treat yourself. We got this.

There was this short-lived sitcom on about ten years ago called Kath & Kim with Molly Shannon and Selma Blair; I think it was actually an American remake of an Australian show. Do you remember it PROBABLY NOT. Anyway, Selma Blair’s character would always say “rooned” instead of “ruined” and I still say that but because that show was such a flop, no one but Henry ever gets it.

I’m telling you this now so you’ll understand what I mean when I say that Henry ROONED my lunchtime walk last Monday by making me go with him to pick up our car from the shop and you better believe I acted like it was the end of the world. UGH, A WRENCH IN MY ROUTINE.

Never fear, I went on a walk the other four days of the work week and while nothing amazingly wild happened, I at least snapped some shots of Shittsburgh I mean Picsburgh no wait it’s Pittsburgh.

(Jk guys, I like my city a little bit.)

Most days, I’m on auto-pilot and head straight for the Strip District. This will change soon when the weather gets warmer because people always flock to this area, even on week days. Henry and I were just there on Sunday because there are several Asian markets in that area, and even though it was still chilly out, there were droves of slow-moving Sunday shoppers milling about, probably straight from some dumb brunch, gawking at Steelers shirts, street produce and whateverthefuck. I got really angry at one point and started mouthing off like I actually live there and haven’t just co-opted the area because of my lunch break walks. Henry was like, “Calm down” and I was like, “YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELF, TOO, PITTSBURGH TOURIST!”

Anyway, speaking of street produce. I like to walk through this market thing to get a daily dose of classic rock. One day, I think I mentioned this in a recent Lunch Break Tales, “Sara Smile” was playing and I pretended to be thoroughly invested in feeling up a basket of kiwi just so I could hear the whole song.

I didn’t feel like crossing the street to get a better picture of this mural, so I didn’t. MY BLOG MY RULES.

I always walk past Sunseri and think nothing of it and my caption was going to be “A store” but now that I’m looking at this, I wonder if THEY HAVE EXOTIC CANDY. I should check.

There actually is a candy store in the Strip but it’s just like novelty bullshit to appeal to Andy Griffith set. It’s OK, but not International Pumpkin of Candy worthy.

I just thought this looked cool, OK?

One day last week, I was waiting to cross the street with an older vagabond-type of broad who gave me a quick glimpse into my future: she was hollering at every car that flew past us, finding some awful offense with each one. “YEAH YOU RAN THAT RED LIGHT, ASSHOLE, I SAW!” And then when the light turned green and we stepped off the curb, she angrily wagged her finger at the bus turning our direction and barked, “DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, HAMILTON” — because it was the Hamilton bus, GET IT?

(I have no idea what part of town Hamilton is but that’s where the bus was going I guess.)

(I don’t ride buses.)

There was one day last week where the sky was so goddamn blue and perfect that, even though it was still chilly, I felt infinitely happy to be alive. THE MAGIC OF THAT VITAMIN D, YO. I decided to walk a different direction for a change, so I made a right outside of my building, walked past a church, and then just kept going up and up and up toward Consol, or PPG Paints Arena, whatever we’re calling it now.

I walked past this church and then made a left and kept going until it started to look sketchy, and then I made a RIGHT….

…where I stopped to take a picture of this mural and then I kept going up a hill until eventually I was engulfed by the Duquesne University to the point where I feared I wouldn’t find a way out, and then I realized my FUCKING FITBIT WAS DEAD, fml.

Oh yeah, I just realized this must have been Friday because it was really windy and I was afraid that a stop sign would get uprooted and bisect my head.

These are some of the things about while meandering about on my lunch breaks: things that could fall from the sky and kill me (anvils, dead pigeon, uprooted stop sign), new serial killer card ideas, my ideal Korean boyfriend type, some random Days of Our Lives character. My mind is so fucking rife with thoughts.

Well guys (or “guts” as I originally typed), that’s all for this latest edition of Lunch Break Tales but the next one might be another coffee roundup, depending on how energetic I feel this week since it seems like everyone around me is ill and it’s only a matter of time until it’s my goddamn turn.

I’m not gonna say “people keep asking me” because that implies that I actually talk to people, but the question of why I don’t really go to shows anymore has come up in conversation twice over the last several weeks, and I guess I just didn’t realize how much of my blog was dedicated to show recaps for awhile there! Thinking back, the last show I went to was in October which seems like forever ago. I still check my favorite venues regularly but there just really isn’t anything I want to see (except for those Balance & Composure farewell shows in Philly but Henry was like DO YOU WANT TO HAVE MONEY WHEN WE’RE IN KOREA OR DO YOU WANT TO KEEP TRYING TO DO ALL THESE DUMB ROAD TRIPS? and I was like, “Touché, motherfucker.”).

So here’s a – hopefully – quick explanation on why my show attendance has really waned over the last 6 months.

• The aforementioned “money” thing. I have been dead-set on saving money for Korea. Contrary to some people’s belief, Henry and I are not made of money. I might work at a law firm but I am definitely not bringing home a lawyers salary! And even though the shows I was going to were pretty cheap, not big venue concerts, that still adds up. Plus: merch. I had to slow my roll on the vinyl-buying front or else I’d never be leaving Pittsburgh.
• I was tired of spending so much time alone. It was still worth it to go alone if it was one of my favorite bands but oftentimes I was going to shows even if I only had a moderate interest in it, and the anxiety I had to work through to get there was wearing me down. It was a catch-22 because then of course the music would energize me. But still, it was getting to be too much on my nerves!
• My exercise addiction made me start saying no to more and more shows because I didn’t want to be standing around all night. I guess there are worse things to be addicted to?
• I’m just not connecting with that type of music anymore. I still like it! But I’m not connecting on an emotional level like I was before where it felt like it was repairing me. I have changed a lot over the last year. So, ITS NOT YOU ITS ME! I still love that scene but…more so as something that used to be a big part of me. I will always love it for the memories. I think it’s good to change things up, and looking back, I have loved so many different types of music and I really like that about myself. Staying stagnant is boring! Ya gotta open your heart and mind to new things every now and then.
• Liking music from another country means I can’t just pop on over to Mr. Small’s or Smiling Moose to catch some Korean indie act. I have to save my monies and pray that the groups I like will do a world tour and then fight to get tickets before it sells out. And then also plan to travel to Chicago or Toronto because Pittsburgh is like unknown to Korean music agencies. So yeah, my calendar isn’t exactly full of upcoming kpop shows!

But the biggest reason, if we’re being truthful, is that I just can’t keep supporting a scene that turns a blind eye to misogyny and abuse. More and more bands that I once loved are being exposed for ignoring accusations against a grimy, slimy bandmate, whether it’s someone who baits and takes advantage of underage girls or someone who is known for domestic violence and rape.

Even Mike Fuentes from Pierce the Veil was exposed for gross past behavior and was asked to step away from his position as drummer.

I love Pierce the Veil and this was a hard one, man. But still – good riddance Mike Fuentes and much respect to the girls who were brave enough to step forward.

But then there’s Jonny Craig who has not one but three exes who have spent years presenting evidence of his abuse – one of his exes alleges that he held her down on a bed and tried to shoot her up. What a motherfucker – if I ever see this pig again I will happily spit in his face for all the pain and suffering he’s caused multiple bright and beautiful women. Jonny Craig, constantly dodging that bullet, continuously finding miracles to keep him in the industry.

(Actually, his exes banded together and started a petition to have him removed from Sony. Please go sign it!)

I cannot keep supporting a music industry that lets monsters like him walk away without consequences. The fan bases are largely comprised of ignorant, uneducated bros and girls who try SO HARD to be “one of the guys” that they’re single-handedly perpetuating the “victim blaming” culture.

So, it was becoming exhausting to keep track of the bands I could no longer support and I was also tired of being let down and disappointed by these guys that I once had some level of respect for. I’m not a huge social justice warrior or whatever they’re calling us liberals these days, but I also have a conscience and morals and just as easy to stop supporting these trash bags, you know?

It seems poetic that this year will be the last Warped Tour. Yeah sure, I’m sad but also relieved because that place is a breeding ground of bro-type behavior, savage misogyny, and date rape waiting to happen in the parking lot or on a tour bus.

The line-up was just announced the other day and I admit, it is completely underwhelming. Even Chooch was like, “Eh.” It’s really disappointing that once again, Falling In Reverse has been invited back in spite of Ronnie Radke’s numerous (numerous!!!) domestic offenses. I been, he’s even served time for some of those offenses, but that’s cool Kevin Lyman — roll out that red carpet for him.

So, Warped Tour taking a bow is most definitely for the best because I for one have felt like a fucking hypocrite for still attending these last several years. Part of me wants to just not go, but I worry that I will regret it. I’ve attended every Warped Tour unfailingly since 2007. I feel like I need to see this through for nostalgia’s sake. Oh, conflict!

The Bledfest lineup was also released and I admit that I salivated a bit. If it didn’t require us to travel for it, I would gladly go to that one again.

That being said, I’m not just like NEVER GOING TO CONCERTS ever again. Citizen and Basement are going on tour later this spring and I am 100% going to that. But, this just isn’t something that I can fit into my current lifestyle as regularly as I did before, and that’s OK. I have new things taking up my time now. It’s a new season of Oh Honestly, Erin, I guess!

Fransssss, it was another low-key, chill weekend and I’m not mad about it. Shit’s gonna be nuts here in a few weeks so I might as well get all the relaxing in now! So here are some pictures and the bare minimum amount of words to describe the final weekend of the emotional roller coaster known as February. I’m so glad to say farewell to it. I’m also throwing in some other crap in this post to consolidate my memories.

• Chooch and I went for a walk after I was done working my late shift on Friday, so I guess that’s the first thing that happened last weekend? I took this picture of Jo’s Salon on the walk. I LIVE DANGEROUSLY. Remember when I used to invite strangers into my house right off the street? Pales in comparison to my current reckless ways of life.
• Saturday was good! I went to Patty’s and we watched “Don’t Look in the Basement” (I nervously found myself relating to every character) and “Hobo With a Shotgun” which was scary because I could completely see this being our country’s future thanks to Trump and the unsavories that have been crawling out of the gutter since his inauguration. It made me really uncomfortable to watch (so clearly it succeeded in its mission!) and then there was a scene where Disco Inferno was playing so that was in my head all week. THANKS PATTY! Oh, Patty also served me Kool-Aid and it was the first time in fucking years that I’ve had Kool-Aid so that was awesome! Now I want to have a horror-movie watching dates with Patty more often. It’s hard to find people to watch horror movies with anymore!
• • LOL, but then later that night, I conned Henry into watching The Wailing with me so it was a good horror movie day. Horror movies are literally the only movies I ever give a shit about watching and I’m so sad that The Hollywood Theater down the street has a new owner because they were so good about showing really great indie horror movies and I could walk there at my convenience and not deal with douchebags on dates.
  • I dunno why I said that. There are douchebags all over, on dates or alone. THIS COUNTRY IS FULL OF THEM.
  • I AM SUPER BITTER.

• Fucking around with my dumb hair before work one day. This is the size frames I’ve been searching for!  Brett Somers-style goal for life.
• Chooch and I struggled to get through the last 3 episodes of The Walking Dead in order to be caught up for the mid-season premiere on Sunday and then I realized we couldn’t watch it then anyway because the Olympics closing ceremonies were on and of course I had to grudgingly watch the American broadcast dork it all up. Annnnd they did! Come on guys, two weeks wasn’t enough time to teach yourselves how to pronounce PyeongChang? I read Korean news sites and one of them had an article about that very topic during the first week of the Olympics. Like, it’s your fucking job as a journalist/reporter/commentator to KNOW HOW TO PRONOUNCE SHIT. CL was great, but I actually thought that EXO’s performance was a little bit lacking, only because I have seen them do sooo much more. But my favorite part was seeing someone I know in real life tweeting shit like, “I have no idea what they’re saying” – wow,  so superior. English is #1, right? Speak English or GTFO, right? Ah, Trump’s America. I mean, they were singing in Korean because they’re a Korean pop group and they were performing at the Olympics which were being held….IN KOREA. I just felt so disgusted that I actually know someone in real life who is that ignorant. Girl, bye.
• But back to The Walking Dead – I’m so glad we got all caught up and pulled back in just for them to RIP OUR FUCKING HEARTS OUT. Ugh…no spoilers, don’t worry, but speaking of spoilers I have no idea how either of us managed to make it this far without hearing or reading a single thing about how the midseason finale ended.

• Drew’s expression constantly. It’s always like she’s experiencing something for the first time and OMG WHAT IS BEHIND THIS DOOR THAT I WALKED THROUGH A BILLION TIMES BEFORE?!
• The other day at work, Lauren got up from her desk and immediately tripped over a plastic bag and I started laughing really hard because people tripping is hilarious and she was like, “I WAS COMING OVER TO SEE YOU, TOO!” and that just made it even better because I was indirectly responsible for the bag-tripping.
• Last night, I dreamt that I was hanging out with my friend Casandra at a pool and I was startled at first because she didn’t have arms or boobs but then I thought to myself, “Wait Erin, you know that she got a double arm amputation and mastectomy for political reasons, duh” and also her friend was with us but she only had ONE arm amputated because I guess she wasn’t as much of a political protester as Casandra. But yeah, then it wasn’t weird anymore.
• • Speaking of dreaming about friends with interestingly-modified appearances, I also dreamt last week that Lauren (the bag-tripper) came into work wearing these HUGE Louis Vuitton-print eyebrow stickers. I mean they were so fucking big and took up most of her forehead but no one thought it looked weird except for me, I guess. I bet they cost like $300 too.
• Here’s a series called Take Your Cat to School Day (WOW THIS BLOG POST IS A FUCKING SMORGASBORD OF TOPICS):

• I was watching some vlog about how blood donation centers in Seoul give people medals after a certain number of donations and first I was like, “Nope not even for a medal” because I can’t even barely THINK about donating blood without feeling woozy (like literally my wrists feel 진짜 sensitive right now, ugh) but then there are people like Amber who I swear are donating every time I turn around. So I started thinking about Amer walking around Seoul with a bunch of medals dripping of her neck, Olympian Mr. T-style. I told her about that today and Glenn mumbled, “Isn’t it fascinating how her mind works.” Oh whatever, Glenn will miss these random observations when I get my desk moved later this month!
• Speaking of Glenn, I ran into some religious zealot handing out Jesus pamphlets near my building, so I giddily flashed it at everyone when I came back inside and sing-songed, “I’ve been saved again, you guys!” This made me remember that the last time I was saved, I filled out the back page with Glenn’s address and mailed it back  to the fly-by-night “church” after looking up his address on our department emergency contact page, despite Todd and Amber muttering stuff about how they didn’t think I should be doing that. Anyway, I forgot allll about it so I asked him the other day, very innocently, if he ever received anything “weird”  in the mail and he was like, “What, why…” and as I started to tell him, he stopped and said, “Yeah, actually, you know, what? I DID get something weird in the mail, more than once, and it was HAND-WRITTEN.” Haha yesssss.

Well, I can’t sit still for any longer so this is all you get. Well, this and J-Hope’s new MV. He’s my BTS bias and his new mixtape makes me love him even more!