Hello from the road to Georgia! It’s around 7pm and we’re in West Virginia somewhere I think. I’m not liveblogging but I had meant to do a Friday Five today and then I was too busy/distracted so instead I want to tell you something exciting, Blog-friend! Well, exciting to me.

So after Chooch had sailing on Saturday, Henry and I decided to go to Dick’s to get him a tennis bag because he had been toting his racket around in a drawstring (he brought it to sailing because he was going to be playing afterward – Bucky St. Johns back there, lol).

While we were there, I was wistfully running my fingertips over the strings of several Prince rackets. “Maybe we should get him a second racket. You know, it’s good to have a spare,” I said.

Henry saw right through this and was like, “if you want to get yourself a racket, get one” to which I would gasp, “oh no I couldn’t I just really couldn’t” like a 1940s starlet.

But of course I ended up walking out with my first racket since probably 1996. And as soon as Chooch came home later that, I started hounding him. “When are we gonna play? Do you want to go somewhere and hit?? WHEN WILL WE BE PLAYING TENNIS?!”

You guys, we ended up going that evening to Settlers Cabin and it was awesome because no one was there so I didn’t feel so self-conscious. I mean, as expected, I was awful but Henry gave me a great backhanded (TENNIS PUN) compliment by agreeing but saying that “you can tell that you used to play though.”

Wow.

And then we played on Sunday too! The most fun part is that we make Henry be our ball boy and you know we berate him to death. You know it.

And then we played again on Monday and Tuesday even though the weather was stormy. Monday night we were hitting against the tennis wall and I will tell you what, I started to feel like some of it was coming back to me! I wasn’t overthinking the grips anymore and I was just whaling the balls back against the wall to the point where I got a blister on my thumb and a bruise on my shoulder from where the racket was hitting (old habits coming back hard!).

Haven’t had a chance to play since Tuesday but whoa baby am I happy that I picked up a racket again! I will probably never be “good” at this juncture of my life but it’s great exercise and fun that Chooch is into it too, and plus Henry is like our little bitchy fan boy so that’s fun too.

Look at how tennis-y he looks!!

I read these in May and now it is almost July.

1. A Visit From the Goon Squad – Jennifer Egan

If you give this anything less than 4 stars on Goodreads, people will tell you that you just don’t get it, you’re dumb, etc. (interesting that it appears to be mostly MEN leaving those types of bullying comments). I guess I’m a big dumbo who just doesn’t get it. I gave it 3 stars. The first chapter was wildly engaging to me, but I quickly got bored after that. The timeline jumping and, quite frankly, annoying cast of characters was a bit too tedious for me to keep up with and I wound up just not caring. People freak out over the POWERPOINT section of this book but that was probably the most boring chapter to me.

SUFFICE TO SAY I will not be continuing this series.

2. The Between – Tananarive Due

Four stars, a decent horror story with great writing and compelling characters. Creepy. I was sold pretty much from chapter 1.

3. Carrie Soto is Back – Taylor Jenkins Reid

DUDE. I was worried about this because I legit hated Malibu Rising and Carrie Soto is a character from that book (albeit a very small periphery character). But no, this book was just what I needed. Of course, I love tennis so the fact that this is about a tennis star coming out of retirement to defend her Grand Slam record was already appealing to me, but in true TJR fashion, she intersperses magazine articles, sports commentary transcripts, and flashbacks throughout the book to really keep it interesting. I should note that I ONLY “read”  her books via audio because she always gets a full cast to read. This one had Patrick McEnroe and Mary Carillo voicing some of the sports commentators. YES. I loved this goddamn book and it made me want to start playing tennis again in the worst way. (More on that later lol.)

4. The Writing Retreat – Julia Bartz

Eh. Three stars. Pretty lame. The beginning, before the whole “Writing Retreat” comes into play, was solid and made me think I was going to love it.  The worst part was the inclusion of the book-within-the-book. So, fucking boring and just not well-written at all. I started to skip those parts.

5. Lavender House – Lev Ac Rosen

Another three star but no strong opinions on this one either way. It was fine, a decent mystery, enjoyed the historical and queer aspect of it, but I likely won’t be picking up any more of the Andy Mills series.

6. The Swimmers – Julie Otsuka

Just depressing, honestly. And not very fun to read. I almost DNFd this numerous times but I had the audio and it was relatively short, and I needed something for my walks so I just dealt with it.  Here, pretend this broad is me, because I agree 100%:

7. Whisper Down the Lane – Clay McLeod Chapman

Satanic Panic? Sign me up. But only if it’s well-written. Which this was…not. I think this is my second book by this dude and that I disliked so we will officially put him on the DNR list. The writing was just bad in this one. The plot was lame. Goodbye.

8. The Only Survivors – Megan Miranda

Her books are neither good nor bad in my opinion. They just are. And the main character is always exactly the same, I swear to fucking god. I never noticed it until Henry pointed it out because he was on a M.Miranda kick a while back and was like, “I wonder if she is writing herself as the main character??” If so, she must have the personality of a paper bag. It was fine. I feel like this is a good “killing time on in an airport” read because if you get distracted, you can pretty much accidentally skip chunks at a time and not notice.

Three stars only because it didn’t piss me off.

9. The Hundred-Year House – Rebecca Makkai

YES. YES YES YES YES. Finally, a five star read. My third Makkai book, and all have been five stars. Stick her on my FAVE WRITER list. This book spans three timelines, starting with 1999. After reading that portion of the book – so quirky, Gilmore Girls-vibes as far as the dialogue goes – I thought that I would hate the subsequent sections of the book. I didn’t want to leave 1999! But yoooo, this book only got better the more “way-back” it got.  I immediately made Janna read it (JANNA DID YOU EVER FINISH IT Y/N. IF SO, DID YOU LIKE IT Y/N.)

You know how people will say things like, “I couldn’t put this book down! I devoured it in one sitting!” when they love a book? I think it’s the opposite for me, in a way. This book was so intricately and smartly written that it begs to be read slowly. I dragged it out for nearly 2 weeks. I would go back and re-read parts of the previous sections once I stumbled across an easter egg. I would luagh out loud – ACTUALLY – at the brilliance of this story. I felt like I knew all the characters by the end and wanted it to be a true story. NOW I AM CRYING. I want to read this again and I am usually not one for re-reads. I actually reserved the audio book on Libby because I want to see if this adds to the experience at all.

Makkai is a terrific writer. I think I might idolize her. I mean, I signed up for her newsletter and I hate newsletters, so that’s saying something.

10. Hamnet – Maggie O’Farrell

Totally on brand for me to think that a book that won awards is “just OK.” I felt like the writing didn’t do enough to make us give a shit about Hamnet so when the thing that happens happened,  I didn’t give a shit about the thing happening. One of the Booktubers that I follow on Goodreads said that they couldn’t stop crying and this book wrecked them. Am I dead.

It’s weird though because I wasn’t exactly bored while reading this. I was interested. Yet, I didn’t care. Explain that to me. I think I am losing function of part of my brain.

***

Wow, May was a shitty month for me, book-wise. Please someone recommend more books to me like The Hundred-Year House. Sigh.

Dude, you guys! It turns out that Chooch really is sailing when he says, “I’m going to Sailing.” (I know, that sounds weird, but it’s like “I’m going to Sailing Class” or whatever you want to call it.)

Henry and I got to watch him in action this past Saturday after dropping him off at 8am on the North Shore. Right off the bat, I said, “Wow, that boat is longer than I thought it was going to be” to which Henry sighed and said, “That’s not one boat, Erin. Those are four sailboats on a dock.”

OH OK I SEE IT NOW.

Anyway, that’s Chooch and his friend Ben doing things on the first one!

Sailing teacher teaching sailing things.

Anyway, there were three sailboats and I kept saying, “Oh, Chooch is winning! His boat is winning!” because everything is a race to me. Henry was just like, “MMmm, ok. Sure.”

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Turns out that sailing lasts like two hours or something. I love my child but I am not that interested in sailing and/or being so close to the river.

So Henry and I bailed for a bit, went to find a cafe/bathroom. We can talk about that in another post.

We came back just in time to see Chooch’s boat pull up to the dock first and then another boat nearly wrecked. Etc etc.

Once all the kids were safely on terra firma (because it turns out it really is a high school calling club thing), the main sailing guy awarded stars to Chooch and Ben for WINNING! See, I was right! It really was a race!

While the guy was giving everyone some post-boat speech, I saw Chooch leave the group to rummage around in a big large green bag. I texted him and asked if he lost something, and when he came over to us to tell us he didn’t need a ride, he mentioned that he had been looking for his sailing cap, which his friend Zakk had kicked away from him last week or something, it wasn’t very interesting so I forgot already.

Then I asked to see this supposed star that he won and it’s one of those little silver star pins. “What are you supposed to do with this?” I asked.

“Put it on the hat that I lost,” he said with a shrug.

***

Walking back to the car, I saw that  my friend Regina from work was in front of us! It made me laugh because we had also seen her when we were finding somewhere to park, but she was walking and appeared to be talking on the phone, so I didn’t want to roll down the window and shout her name. Coincidentally, when we saw here this second time, she was also walking back to her car, which was parked RIGHT IN FRONT OF OURS. I caught her attention and we chatted for a bit — it’s always so novel seeing work friends out in the wild now that we don’t see each other regularly in the office. Anyway, right away she congratulated Henry and me and I started to say, “For what?” and then I remembered, lol.

***

And that is the story of how I went to watch Chooch sail and how it turns out sailing is really sailing and not a code word for something insidious.

Ever since our department had an after-work party at Shorty’s in early May, I have been wanting to DRINK BEER. You might remember that I have a long and troubled relationship with beer, as in, there is no relationship. I have tried several times over the years to acquire a taste for it but it never sticks. Wine? Fine. Cider? Even better.

Anyway, my sister Amy and I are always doing the “we gotta hang out!” song and dance but then life gets in the way and nothing is ever finalized. But this time, motivated by BEER, I was determined to schedule something and I know that she and her husband Dick are into breweries, so we picked one in Heidelberg called…I forget already. Oh wait! insurrection something. Originally we were going to just meet for breakfast but I’m a dumbass and forgot that I had a hair appt that morning. Anyway, they live in Ohio, about an hour away, but said they wanted to come out way. However, it was the TAYLOR “VANILLA” SWIFT weekend here so we decided to steer clear of all that hoopla and find somewhere outside of the city, and less far for them.

It turned out to be pretty decent! I mean, our waiter couldn’t have had less personality than if he were actually Taylor Swift, but it was a cozy little place with actually veg options on the menu. I got a bbq cauliflower sandwich and it was wonderful!!

I also drank TWO baby 5 ounce beer things and was sufficiently drunk, which was endlessly hilarious to Henry. But that was good for me! Two different beers, one was one of those dark bastards that Henry said I 100% wouldn’t like but guess what motherfucker, your girl drank that bitch UP.

I mean, it took about an hour’s worth of sips, but I crossed that finish line, Brenda.

Anyway, every time I hang out with Amy and Dick, I ask myself, “Queen Dorkchuck, why don’t you do this more often?” And of course, I have no answer because I’m busy dorking chucks or whatever. I am determined to do this more often though and Amy already has the next venue in mind, so let’s gooooo.

Also, this was the first time we got to tell THE PROPOSAL STORY to anyone in person so that was fun even though our bland paper bag of a server kept trying to interrupt and we were like OK BLAINE CALM DOWN WE WILL SEND YOU A SIGNAL WHEN WE’RE READY. GOD.

I can’t remember what his name was IRL but it really was something like Blaine or Brody, who gives a shit, he was not very memorable (unlike the guy who took our group picture – he was soooo happy to oblige!).

My friend Alyson asked if we were going to have engagement portraits done. I hadn’t thought of that. I mean, after 22 years of waiting, you’d think I’d have entire portfolios of wedding ideas scribbled out, and there was a while there back in like, 2010-2012, where I really thought Henry was going to ask (I had friends texting him and harassing him on Facebook so I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t!) so around that time I was really collecting ideas in my head.

But then he finally asked me two weeks and every last component I had filed away for my Imaginary Never-Wedding just…blew away on the breeze of the proposal. It’s crazy, just a blank slate up there now and I’m lowkey panicking about it and kind of just don’t want to do anything?? What is happening.

Anyway, the idea of engagement portraits seemed like something that just didn’t make sense for us. We have been together for so long. I feel kind of ridiculous about this whole thing. But Alyson and some of my other friends have been adamant that all these things still apply to us, we deserve to go through the motions and experience the process like everyone else.

Maybe.

I just feel so awkward about it.

Anyway, when we were at Cedar Point last week, I decided that maybe it would be fun/funny to snap a few “ring flex” shots. Casual, at one of my favorite places, taken by Best Son, lol. He was thrilled to assist, as you can imagine!

So anyway, here are a few pictures of us being dumb and trying to hurry up and ‘er done before too many people saw because I was sooooo uncomfortable!

Henry looks shell shocked as usual.

“Wait, let me pretend like I’m going to choke him,” I suggested and then slammed my hand against Henry’s throat before he had a chance to protest.

Selfie. Chooch needed a break.

Wow Henry smiled. Also, photog cameo!

I was probably saying, “Hurry up and take it” because people were walking by and looking and I DID NOT LIKE THAT ONE BIT.

Anyway, we can scratch that off the list now. We are not PDA-types of people at all so I can’t imagine doing anything more in depth than just these, with a stranger behind the camera. No thank you.

Meanwhile, the only thing I have been able to focus on is where I want the honeymoon to be – KOREA OR ROMANIA??? I tried to lobby for BOTH but Henry just frowned and said, “They’re nowhere each other.”

Um, OK? No wedding and two honeymoons, then?

Now that I wrote 3000 words about the Cure concert without ever actually talking about the Cure concert, here are five things about that night that don’t involve me flipping out over a ring.

1. burn

Honestly one of my favorite songs, not just by the Cure, but of any artist of all time. Henry said that this was one of his favorite songs of the night too. I am trying not to cry right now.

This is not my video, I didn’t record hardly at all because I was too in the zone and as usual, I figured there would be a plethora of videos online afterward. But the audio is really great and you can totally hear how on point the whole band – it was on this level the entire night. The Cure is honestly one of the best bands I have ever seen in my whole life – they always seem to be 100% into it. It makes me wonder how I would feel if I was at one of their concerts, knowing nothing about them, only there to accompany a friend. Would I leave as a fan? I really can’t imagine how I wouldn’t – like, how do you witness something like this in person and not be affected? They even manage to permeate Henry’s thick-walled dork-heart.

2. Kpop fans v everyone else

Ok listen Brenda. You know that the Cure is tops in my heart. La Supreme. Bae. And this is nothing against them at all, but can we talk about the crowd? Shoooooo….it was not great. I mean, also not AWFUL but just not what I would have expected for a Cure concert. With the exception of the ABYSMAL, RUDE crowd at Coachella in 2004 since that was a festival, this might have been the worst vibe I’ve sensed out of all the times I’ve seen them.

Now, this is not a blanket statement – I’m not trying to say, “OMG I was the only true fan there” because it wasn’t at all, so if you were there and disagree do not come for me!! I’m just saying that my observation from where I sat was that it felt like many – not all – people were there for the novelty of it. These people were all middle-aged, white, and mostly drunk. Maybe they were reliving their goth college years, or wanted to hear the handful of radio hits that they know, who knows. But a lot of the people there made me uncomfortable and distracted me with their constant need to fidget, chat with their neighbors, leave to buy more beer. It was a lot of letting people in and out of the row, you know? And I noticed this at Genesis too so I think it’s really a demographic thing. Like, these are elder fans who perhaps have expendable income and/or just go to concerts to party / relive the golden years / get drunk off of nostalgia. And OK that’s fine, but there are also people who pay money they don’t really have to see a band in real life that they love with their whole hearts and have so much appreciation and gratitude…

That’s 99.9999999% of the fans you see at kpop concerts, you guys. It is legit. No one is there because they just know one song. They are there because they know every member’s name, know the inside jokes, know the choreo.

I realized that night that while I still love non-kpop music, I prefer kpop concerts in general now.

(For instance, I’m watching another video from the Cleveland show and there is a broad in in who hasn’t stopped talking to someone three people over her for the entirety of Disintegration. Like bitch, sit down then. You’re bothering us.)

But I will give big props to the Tallest Guy in the Land who was standing in front of Henry. (Originally me but I switched seats with Henry lol.) He glanced behind him at one point and when he realized how much taller he was than Henry and the guy next to Henry, he sat down on the back of his chair so that he wasn’t fully sitting but also was at the height of an average standing man, and said, “Is that better?” Henry and the guy next to him were both like, “Oh, you’re fine!” because Henry, for all the bitching he does when BOO HOO HE CAN’T SEE AT THE NCT CONCERT BC GIRLS ARE STANDING UP AND DANCING, actually is content just being there and doesn’t need to see the stage at every single second of the night like some of us do.

Anyway, I thought that guy was really cool. Him and a bunch of people in front of him were really decent and seemed like genuine fans, but then the three women next to him (and directly in front of me) chatted like fucking mothers at a neighborhood watch meeting, checked their phones, texted, got up to pee, got up to get beer, looked everywhere but the stage unless one of the more popular radio songs were being played. It was so annoying. They did seem into it at some points so I think the bigger issue here is that Americans in general are just one gigantic attention deficit.

3. Toxic Masculinity in Row N

Sometime before the opening band started, a group of people practically fell into the seats right behind Henry and me. I mean, they made such a commotion as they skirted their way down the row, it was almost comedic if it hadn’t been so goddamn annoying. Loud AF. CLEARLY drunk. Total middle-aged trash with zero boundaries or awareness.

It was two married couples – the one woman had the most annoying voice, high-pitched voiced (fuck, Henry compared her to someone and it was so spot-on but now I can’t think), the other woman was actually fine but of course she was sat the furthest away from me, and the two husbands were disgusting, loud-ass pig-slobs who didn’t just speak, they SHOUTED, the type of toxic ageing bro-men who purposely talk loud because they think that what they’re saying is SO FUCKING FUNNY AND IMPORTANT, that they want EVERYONE AROUND THEM TO HEAR. Fucking crass assholes, honestly. The one kept stretching out his legs so his disgusting sandaled foot would jut out from under Henry’s seat and I was burping back bile, for real.

4. If you can’t beat ’em….

I told Henry that the only way I was going to be able to survive with those loud asses sitting behind us would be if I made contact somehow. Finding a way to civilly butt into the conversation of problematic people sometimes helps humanize them for me, if that makes sense. Lucky for me, the MEN had departed on their third alcohol refill run during the storm delay, when the couple next to the people started talking to the wives. At one point, one of the wives said that they were from Pittsburgh and I was like “I’M IN” and the way I spun around so fast in my seat to finally play the role of Erin Buttinsky, well, Henry was laughing about it for days afterward.

(“Jesus Christ, you turned around so fast and started talking,” he laughed but it didn’t sound like a HAHA I LOVE YOU NEW-FIANCEE, YOU ARE SO CUTE AND FUNNY laugh but more of a disgusted “I hate when you do that shit” scoff.)

“We’re from Pittsburgh too!” I cried out so loud that several people from the row behind them also turned to look at where the manic talking was coming from.

The wives looked a bit caught off guard initially at my enthusiasm for sharing a city, but then they quickly abandoned the other couple and talked solely to me about various Pgh things that you wouldn’t understand if you’re not from here so I won’t bore you, but I will say that Henry REFUSED to turn around, not even ONCE, just bristled silently in his seat like the stand-offish lump that he is, so that was exciting to have them see that I was attending a Cure concert with a serial killer.

After I said that I was originally from “Jefferson Hill, you know, by Century III Mall,” one of the ladies said, “Oh did you hear about that boy that recently fell through the roof of the mall??” and I was like, “OMG NO?!” and she said something else about it, to which I didn’t know how else to respond aside from saying, “Oh wow” and then turning back around in my seat without a goodbye or enjoy the show or fuck off or anything. Just quietly and awkwardly cut the cord on the convo and peaced out. That’s how I do. Hi, I’m Erin. Nice to meet you, ok bye.

Anyway, my plan worked because I was able to tolerate them so much more after that, except for once the concert started and I found out quickly and painfully that one of the husbands was a WHISTLER. Hooboy, the why those whistles broke through my skull like a buckshot.

5. The Set List

• Alone
• Pictures of You
• Lovesong
• And Nothing if Forever
• If Only Tonight We Could Sleep

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• Burn
• Kyoto Song
• A Night Like This
• Push
• At Night
• Play for Today
• A Forest (Henry’s fave Cure song, FYI)
• Shake Dog Shake
• From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea (LOL ughhhhh)
• Endsong

ENCORE #1

• I Can Never Say Goodbye
• It Can Never Be the Same
• Want
• Plainsong
• Disintegration

ENCORE #2

• Lullaby
• Six Different Ways
• The Walk
• Friday I’m In Love
• Close To Me
• Whay Can’t I Be You?
• In Between Days
• Just Like Heaven
• Boys Don’t Cry

OK, that’s it. I was hoping for The Caterpillar, Charlotte Sometimes, The Kiss, Same Deep Water As You among others but I was still happy with the set list because it’s the fucking Cure. The fucking Cure.

Chooch has shown a sudden interest in learning how to play tennis which pleases me greatly because I played for several years throughout middle school and high school and to this day it was the only thing I’ve ever truly been good at. He asked me if I still had my old rackets and I was like “LOL hell no, I trashed all those in fits of rage. I used to have full blown tantrums on the courts.”

“OK so nothing has changed,” he said.

😂

Then I tried to tell him that Andre Agassi was my #1 bias and he cut me off to say with annoyance, “Yeah I know. One time he was in a crossword I was doing. All I said was ‘Andre in tennis’ and you screamed OMG AGASSI I LOVE HIM.”

Anyway, I guess one of his friends wants to try out for the team next year and hyped up Chooch in the process. I am on board with this but trying not to be TOO enthusiastic because then he will definitely abandon it and take up, I dunno, country line-dancing instead out of spite.

Chooch the Overnight Prep left sailing class tonight and went straight to a tennis court, where he & a friend played doubles with “two old moms.”

Henry, who had seen these broads later when he went to pick up Chooch, said, “Um, they were more like college-aged?”

TWO OLD MOMS, UGH.

Anyway, I’m changing his name to Chip. Or Preston. Bucky, maybe? Janna is getting a sweater for him to tie across his shoulders.

Anyway. Sailing and tennis. Brookline prep. ⛵️🎾

They make me so happy. 💚 🌱

Me, in the parking lot before The Cure concert: I’m just really tired of being a GIRLFRIEND for the last 22 years.

Henry: I don’t think you were my ‘girlfriend’ for that first year, though.

*******

One of my favorite things about the Erin&Henry (or, if you know us from the hallowed LiveJournal days: Ruby&Hoover) origin story is that when he started working at the place where I was the office manager from 2000-2004, I missed his inaugural week there because I was away seeing The Cure, my most favorite band in the entire world then and now, for the first time. So when he was being led around the office for introductions, all he saw of me was my empty desk while being told, “That’s our office manager, she’s away in Australia seeing some band right now.”

So, while my first impression of him was, “Wow, he looks like Michael Myers” as he walked away from me down a hall in his dark blue coveralls, his first impression of me was that I was some ultra fangirl groupie who drained her savings account to fly across the world alone to see a concert.

And have I changed? Mmm, nope! But the best part is that when we started dating a year later, he never once ridiculed me for my obsessions, but instead joined me on music festival road trips and too many worknight concerts at small clubs where we would then have to stick around to meet the bands because that was my routine. He has mostly just tolerated (at best) most of the bands I have obsessed over, but he genuinely became a fan of The Cure without any arm-twisting or pressure from me. I finally had someone that I could talk to about how they made me feel, which songs I used to lay on the floor and cry to while drinking Manischewitz out of a red goblet, what song I would want to play at my wedding. The things that no one before him cared about! For instance, when one guy that I briefly dated came over one night when I had one of the live DVDs on, and he said, “They’re really gay.” Um, bitch bye.

So when we managed to snag tickets for The Cure’s 2023 US tour, it suddenly occurred to me that what if Henry finally ASKED THE QUESTION THAT NEEDS TO BE ASKED. Look, it’s not a secret that I have been hounding his ass for the better part of the last 22 years. You know, I know it, he knows it. I want to get married. Shocking.

I can’t quite explain it, but I really felt like it was going to happen this year, like maybe he even had a ring. I mean, at this stage in life, the element of surprise isn’t really a factor anymore. Just get ‘er done, etc etc.

I started dropping super obvious hints, like, “This could be the last time we ever see the Cure. Wouldn’t it be amazing if something BIG happened? Something MEMORABLE?” C’mon, guy. Take the fucking hint.

Finally, it was THE DAY! The weather was shit, but we had seats under the pavilion at the Blossom Music Center so I wasn’t too concerned. When we went to find our seats, I started walking down our row and as I went to grab the seat closer to the middle, I looked up and saw that Henry had somehow gone around and was coming down the row toward me in an attempt at seat interception.

“Let me sit here,” he said, just as I was about to sit down.

“No!” I cried like a brat. “I want to sit here because it’s closer!” (I mean, barely closer, but you know how I can be.)

He mumbled something and squeezed past me (I didn’t even bother to move my knees to make it any easier for him, ha ha ha, typical Erin) and then sat in his bitch seat to the right. I thought this was really strange. No one was even sitting around us yet so it’s not like he was trying to avoid anyone. But then, because I’m dense and things sometimes take a second or 28,783 to sink in, it occurred to me that maybe he wanted to sit on my left for proposal ease?!

Still, I tried not to get my hopes up too high because we all know what happened when I thought he was going to propose on the boardwalk in Wildwood last summer.

(He was just tying his shoe, in case you missed it.)

The Twilight Sad came on and twilight sadly did nothing to stop the annoying two couples behind us from scream-talking loudly into the back of my head. Between the overall weird vibes of the crowd, anticipating The Cure, and wondering if Henry was going to finally ring me (finger, not neck, although I guess that also depends on the day…), I was on edge. Bigly on edge.

Almost immediately after The Twilight Sad’s set, the crew came out to set up for The Cure. Now I was really getting excited and nauseous. Pee jig central over in Row M. The Cure just hits differently. I always go into these concerts expecting to be drop-kicked into a pit of despair, and that’s OK. Sometimes, that’s what we pay for.

And then, a loud fizzle, and electricity flickered in and out followed immediately by a clap of loud thunder, none of that romantic rolling thunder business, either. This was a YOU’VE BEEN BAD crack of the belt from above.

And then, lightning.

And then, actual sheets of rain, straight up wet curtains, falling from the sky.

People were SCREAMING, Mary. This was some Lord’s Work happening at the Blossom Music Center.

As the crew was fleeing the stage, DANGER DANGER messages came up on the video screens, while the faceless spokesperson of the venue turned on the DISASTER MIC and instructed everyone under the pavilion to remain there while urging the people in the lawn to return to their cars until further notice. It was chaos. My brother was just arriving with his friend and I was frantically texting him to stay in his car and he’s like, “WHY ARE ALL THESE PEOPLE LEAVING??”

At this point, we weren’t even sure if the concert was going to happen. A guy two rows behind us was obsessively checking the storm radar on his phone and giving us updates. He said it was looking like it was going to pass through, so we stayed hopeful.

After about 45 minutes, A GREEN MESSAGE replaced the RED MESSAGE on the screens! Green is good!

And then The Cure came on! Immediately, the tallest guy in the all of the Cuyahoga Valley stood erect in front of me, so I finally granted Henry’s request to switch seats and proceeded to spend a large portion of the night with my left hand FULLY-FLEXED at my side in an attempt to manifest a ring sliding on down my dumb ol’ finger. THE finger. THAT ONE. I was so stoked, I just knew it was going to happen. I dropped so many clues for months to the point where it was like a fun little game that he seemed to also be playing so I thought, OK, we are COMMUNICATING, this is cute.

The Cure is cycling through song after song. All of these BIG SWELLING EMOTIONAL MASTERPIECES that Henry could have used as his soundtrack while doing the damn thing.

If Only Tonight We Could Sleep

Burn

Disintegration

Want

When they began to perform Play For Today, I just about lost my mind because IT WAS SO APROPOS. There is a line that literally goes:

and wait,

and wait,

and wait

for something to happen

YES, THAT’S ME. HERE I AM. ROW M, SEAT 17, WAIT WAIT WAITING FOR SOME FUCKING STUPID THING TO HAPPEN, RING FINGER FLEXED LIKE A FUCKING FLAG POLE.

At one point, I thought I saw him reaching into his pocket and I felt a JOLT of nervous anticipation, but calm down, everyone. He was just scratching his side.

One of my favorite songs played that night was Edge of the Deep Green Sea, which the crowd turned into a big party foul when NO ONE raised their arms when Robert sang “put your hands in the sky.” I started to raise mine, and then stopped halfway as I became stunned to see that no one around me, not even the people at the front of the stage, were joining in. Did I miss a memo? Do we not put our hands in the sky anymore? Usually, it’s something akin to the wave during this part of the song, with hands fluttering up left and right, but only saw a few arms shooting up. My brother and I were texting about this the next day, and he said, “I put my hands up like you taught me* and no one else did??” he said.

*(We saw the Cure together in 2008; my 4th time and his 1st so I made sure he knew about this beforehand! It’s always been one of my favorite parts of the process when it comes to Cure concerts.)

There was an awkward moment when Henry and I looked at each other and both said, “What?” at the same time but I was Very Annoyed with him and his lack of EVERYTHING, so I refused to commiserate over this. I mean, he wasn’t even trying to hold my hand at any point of the night, at the very bare minimum. It was like we were STRANGERS standing together at random. If you’re not ever going to be my husband, at least act like my BOYFRIEND. So, while I would usually grab his hand and forcibly wrench his arm into the air because he hates audience participation and I love to torture him, I didn’t do that this time. I was PUNISHING him.

He doesn’t know the behind the scenes of Erin’s Bratty Brain part of this story, so I’m sure once he reads this, he will have some things to say. I gotta be honest for the blog! Even if I’m not 100% conscious that I’m sabotaging something, I will still find a way. It’s built into me. I was raised on Days of Our Lives, for Christ’s sake, practically breastfed drama and conflict.

The lights came on. I started to shake, my body WRACKED with rage. I turned to Henry and quite frankly, it is a wonder that I was able to swallow back the Abaddon Choir threatening to blast out a guttural Viking metal rendition of Miley Cyrus’s “Flowers” from my mouth with the force of an uncorked fire hydrant.

♫♪I CAN MY BUY MYSELF FLOWERS, SHOVE MY RINGLESS HAND UP YOUR ASS.♫♪

Instead, I sizzle-hissed in an octave well above normal functioning person levels, “WELL, I GUESS TONIGHT WASN’T THE NIGHT.” In my own ears, I sounded like a very pissed off cartoon cat. Feral. Mewling.

And then my emotional volcano burst, 22 year’s worth of resentment and insecurities came squirting out of my eyeballs like hot wet salty lava, and I ran away into the crowd. It was completely apparent, I’m sure, to everyone around us that something DOMESTIC was playing out. Either that or people were thinking, “Wow, The Cure really made that broad mad!”

I was STALKING off through the pavilion, hands balled into fists at my sides, face scrunched up into one fucking UGLY mask of anguish – I know my ugly-cry face and it was definitely what I was wearing at that moment. I actually replayed this in my head on a loop for days afterward, hovering above my body and watching from above, and I can truthfully say that I am very embarrassed and ashamed by the way I was acting. (“That’s called ‘disassociation,’ Erin, and it’s a psychological disorder. I love how you’re just casually explaining it like it’s something that you just…do all the time??” one of my friends said when I was like, “Yeah, you know how you remove yourself from the situation and watch it play out?” LOL, oh.)

Henry never even bothered to stop me, which was infuriating because even though I told him to GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, I obviously also wanted him to NOT get the fuck away from me so that I could berate him further. So, I had to keep slowing down to let him catch up long enough for me to growl lovely sentiments such as YOU RUINED THE CURE FOR ME / I FUCKING HATE YOU / I DIDN’T EVEN WANT TO COME HERE WITH YOU TONIGHT, I WANTED TO GO WITH MY BROTHER BUT STUPID ME THOUGHT MAYBE YOU WERE ACTUALLY GOING TO BE A REAL FUCKING MAN AND ASK ME.

You know, these types of things. Didn’t care who was listening at this point.

Imagine Pee Wee in the rainy alley after his bike is stolen, but me walking through the wet Blossom Music Center parking lot:

How can one man be so dense? How can one bitch be so stupid?

The walk back to the car was long and miserable. Everyone around me had that blissed-out post-concert high while my body was quaking as I tried to stop myself from sobbing. You know what that feels like. Weird squeaks were eking out of my throat the harder I tried to put a moratorium on the tears. It was just fucking miserable. Just try to imagine how it feels to be strung along for more than 20 years. No matter what Henry says, what excuses he has, he has strung me along.  That’s how it feels! And for all the people over the years who have said, “It shouldn’t matter, why does it matter, it’s obvious he loves you” – well, it does matter to me, it’s personal. It’s something that I have always wanted and the fact that I have been put in these awkward conversations over the years where I’m forced to defend my stance, it’s just been infuriating and deflating.

This is all going through my ABUSED MIND the entire walk back to the car, while I’m whispering things to myself like a lunatic (“Calm down, Erin, we can kill him later” / “I don’t fucking know where the car is” / “Even serial killers get married“), giving no fucks at this point how unhinged I look to the casual observer.

As soon as we both got in the car and the doors were shut, I covered my face and WEPT like I was in mourning. And in a way, I guess I was!  Because after blubbering “I’m so stupid, I’m so stupid” at least a dozen times, I looked at Henry and said, “I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m done.”

And in a voice that didn’t even sound like his, but that could also be because my ears were filled with the sound of static and RUSHING BLOOD, he quietly asked, “Then what am I supposed to do with this?”

There he was, sitting in the driver’s seat, holding the ring that I picked out, oh, TEN YEARS AGO.

I experienced a psychological snap right then and there. I was still full-body sobbing, but now I was also laughing too. My face, I’m sure, was smeared like a Kindergarten finger painting by this point, and I had a strong sense of the swollen state of my eyes. OK, I was psychotically laughing at this point, let’s be real. I could have gone one of two ways: just go with it and accept that I was being proposed to in a fucking parking lot, or rip his stupid face off.

I had no energy left to fight so I let him put the stupid ring on my dumb finger, still unable to stop laughing or crying. He was saying words. I wasn’t listening. I could still only hear the synapses snapping inside my brain. I know he was saying nice things, I know that he CLEARLY felt like shit, and I know that we were both marginally traumatized by the way things played happened.

“You have to say yes!” he said, and I realized that I was still just sitting there hysterically laugh-crying and performing the sniffle-hiccup combo of the advanced crier.

Of course, I said NO at first. :)

And then we didn’t get home until after 3am, because the venue allowed The Cure to play past curfew to make up for the delay and then it took nearly an hour just to get out of the parking lot. I actually don’t even know what time it was that the blurry, delirious proposal even happened because it was very close to midnight when we were walking (or, WAR MARCHING in my case) back to the car. So, it either happened on June 11th or June 12th, but after 22 years, who’s keeping track?

Henry’s version of the story is that he scoured the set list beforehand, in order to choose the perfect song to finally end the 22 year saga. He had chosen “Edge of the Deep Green Sea,” and the plan was for him to….wait for me to grab his hand and lift his arm into the air.

You know, the thing I intentionally didn’t do and then tried to play off afterward by saying it was because I was “holding my phone.” Not “trying to punish him.” Nope. Not that at all.

So, when that didn’t happen, combined with the rain delay changing the set list, his plan was sent into a spiral. He didn’t know what songs were going to be performed after that, and before he knew it, the show was ending with “Boys Don’t Cry” and then everyone was leaving.

He spent the whole show holding the ring in his hand.

I chose this ring 10+ years ago after finding a jeweler on Etsy who makes rings out of raw diamonds. I knew that was the style for me. I’m not a traditional Zales diamond ring bitch, and I like that this is rough and imperfect, just like our idiotic relationship.

But! It’s probably for the best that it happened the way it did because I have no idea where he got the measurement for the ring. It is way too big and imagine if his plan had been successful and then I flung it off my hand during the concert?!

I did ask him why he let me run away afterward, why he didn’t just stop me, explain the situation, and do it right then, and he said he was afraid I would throw the ring into the woods.

OK, understandable!

Also, we all know how hyper-critical I am. If he had managed to do it during the concert, I probably would have just spent the next 20+ complaining about the song he chose.

****

The next day, I asked Chooch (whose reaction was “nice. congratulations.”) if he wanted to see the ring.

“No,” he said. “I already saw it last year in Wildwood.”

WHAT.

Confirmed: Henry was definitely supposed to do it then. Our friends Alyson and Ryan knew about it and were stalking my Instagram with “ants in their pants,” per Alyson, but then it never happened. Henry let us all down!

“Where were you going to do it?” I asked him the other day, and he said in front of Mister Softee – ??? I mean, I like that ice cream place but I would have been like, “Really, this is where I finally got engaged?” if he had gone through with it.

So overall, I think I’m fine with the way the ring finally ended up on my idiot finger. In the car, parked in the Blossom Music Center lot, after a concert that almost didn’t happen because of a storm: totally traumatic and 100% on brand for us. Yeah, I’m OK with this. :)

Anyway, I need a big do-over since he pretty much ruined the entire concert for me so we’re going to see The Cure head-line Riot Fest in September. REDEMPTION.

(Apologies for typos and any nonsensical grammar issues – I have been writing this piecemeal since last week and am super hyper and crazed, still!)

Good morning from Cedar Point! Expecting it to be packed today as usual but at least it’s something to do.

Walking to SteVe, immediately.

Visiting Daddy on Father’s Day! Love you Papa SteVe!!

11:13am: Literally the best experience we had on SteVe. Wait was estimated at 40 min and it took less than that, no breakdowns while we were in line, and they let Chooch and me have the back. I love this stupid fucking psycho coaster so much!

Henry got front row and is so smug about it.

Now he’s making us wait in line for Maverick which is broken down and I hate this gamble!!! It almost never works out well for us.

me: new thing! Since I’m liveblogging let’s take a selfie in every line we wait in.

Thanks Chooch.

11:38am: Fuck you, Maverick. Moving on because I couldn’t take hearing the bitch in front of me talk about her basic bitch interests anymore.

11:54am ditched Henry, now in line for Iron Dragon 🐉

ALSO, Chooch hates my new selfie rule.

iron dragon was way FUNNER than I remember FYI.

12:45pm: got lunch at the new pavilion and the service was TRASH. the roll was the best part of the meal. Views are nice though!

They’re playing retro ragtag covers of shitty pop songs though and a Taylor Swift one is on now so that dragged down the lunch review.

Chooch bonded with a guy in the bathroom over the awful music. “I didn’t think they could make Taylor Swift worse.”

12:54pm Gatekeeper selfie!

everyone hates me!

That was the best Gatekeeper ride I’ve ever had!

1:29pm: Carousel line selfie!

1;51pm: Choochs phone just died and he wants to go home because now he will either have to talk to “us guys” or look at the sky LOLOL.

Waiting for out old car thing! Henry can’t hear.

We got the slowest car here and people are on our asses. Chooch is so pissed. He just said he feels like Janna lol hi Janna!

2:03pm: RAPTOR’S LINE IS LIKE 10 MINUTES!!

Ok I’m saying it: Raptor is my favorite B&M invert. I SAID IT.

now we’re in line for the new Wild Mouse which is an HOUR wait and the guys in front of me are wearing patchouli and chooch is being pissy.

Pissy “I wouldn’t be in a bad mood all day if I had a belt” Chooch.

3:08pm: Still in line. Some little kid the next row over tapped me on the shoulder and said excuse me you have a bug on your shirt and of course I always think I’m the butt of a joke so I panicked but I did indeed have a MAYFLY on my shirt so Henry got it off for me which then turned into me blaming Henry for not doing a better job guarding my person from bugs and other harmful things.

3:14pm: Still in line but maybe another 15? At least people here aren’t assholes like at Canada’s Wonderland.

I asked chooch if he is immediately going to add this to his spreadsheet and he said I CANT MY PHONE IS DEAD. lololol. Also “Call Me Maybe” is on right now!!

3:53pm: that was the best Wild Mouse I’ve ever been on! It was trimless! Henry bit his lip lol. We got the pink car!

Now we’re in line for Gemini which only I am excited for!

The way I have to beg for these selfies though.

ugh stupid Henry has to treat himself.

5:01pm:

Rode MaxAir, it was fine.

Now Chooch is spending money. He won a medium sized prize!

5:11pm: We left! Bye bye Cedar Point!

Some thoughts from the car:

• Raptor was a big highlight – from the delightfully enthusiastic dad & 2 kids in front of us to the overall fantastic ride, I declared that it was my second favorite ride in the whole park.
• SO MUCH TAYLOR SWIFT WAS HEARD TODAY.
• This was the first time we didn’t ride Millie and that felt kind of weird. We were actually only in that area once, even.
• This was the best ride I’ve ever had on Gatekeeper. I even grayed out!
• I got stapled on Gemini so that wasn’t very enjoyable.
• We didn’t ride Magnum! I will only ride it if it’s a station wait bc I do like it but it hurts!
• I thought the addition of Wild Mouse to the revamped boardwalk area was really cute and fits nicely with the theme. It just sucks that it’s such a short ride and will probably always have a long wait because even the shittiest Wild Mouses in other parks get notoriously long waits. But I thought the theming was super eye-catching and I also liked that they were playing legit beach music in that area. I did suggest to Chooch that they should play the Back to the Beach soundtrack and he rolled his eyes at me.
• Only lowlight really was MAVERICK (so sick of that one breaking down constantly) and the service we experienced at the new Grand Pavilion. The cashier was nice though, I should specify that the coldness was reserved for the people behind the food counter thing. Not a single person made eye contact with us or smiled. It made me so uncomfortable and I almost didn’t even want to order anything from there.
• The cookies were back to being good!! I feel like the last time we got them from the bakery they were really dry and stale. The snickerdoodles were sooooo MOIST today.
• Overall, it wasn’t really crowded there at all for a weekend. I wish we were had been staying over though so we could have stayed until close because I can only imagine how many more rides we could have made it on. Every time I checked the ride times, SteVe had never gone past 60 minutes which is unheard of. But I was content with the one ride we got on it this morning, especially since we only had to wait about 30 minutes!
• Maybe someday, someone will actually want to come with us?? I tried to get my brother to come with us but he promised our dad he’d go over for a visit and, oh yeah, I guess it was Father’s Day after all lol.

The end.

No one asked but here’s the merch I bought at the Cure concert last week! I have the day off on Monday and am going to do my best to hammer out the details of that night. Still processing, I think. Emotions are annoying.

I also bought two posters – one for the entire tour and one that was specific to the Cleveland date. I love that The Cure commissioned artists to make collector posters for each date of their tour. I’m not gonna like, I don’t love the one that we got for Cleveland, but it’s the show I went to, so I will accept it. The Houston poster was the best one, IMO.

Henry framed them before I had a chance to take a decent picture. Way to go, Henry. But anyway, here they are, jazzing up the last blank of the house!

And here’s a better look at the Cleveland poster.

I love concert posters so much!

Can you believe that these two posters and t-shirt cost nearly the same amount as one t-shirt from the last two kpop concerts I went to? LOL ugh, kpop is killing my bank account.

Tomorrow is Father’s Day and I am trying to get Henry to take us to Cedar Point so maybe I will do a CP liveblog?! Also, I had the equivalent of one beer tonight at dinner with my sister Amy and her husband Dick, and now I honestly feel like I might pass out and also I don’t want to be thinking of the rollercoasters I might be riding tomorrow, ugh.

This week has been so disorienting.

Sorry if you’re only here to get the SCOOP because today’s post is just photos from our early parking experience. Of course I was being a psycho about everything related to this day because it’s THE CURE and it’s not very often they come to the US and also the weather forecast was ABYSMAL for that day and I was panicking about the rain and merch lines, and GIVE THIS BITCH A PILL, WILL YA. Anyway, the option to pay $20 for early parking was available and the only reason I agreed that we should do it was because they said that merch booths would be set up in the lots and honestly, the convenience of not only snatching up what I want ahead of time but also being able to take it back to the car rather than keeping it with me all fucking night long was worth it.

This meant that we had to hang out for over 2 hours in the parking lot, but whatever. At least I was able to get my daily steps in, lol.

Here we are, sitting in the grass after securing my merch. I got two posters (one was show-specific and the other was for the entire tour) and a shirt. I was extremely content, especially since we didn’t have to wait in line. Oh, and all three of those things together cost the same as ONE SHIRT at a Kpop concert. Jesus.

(I still you, Kpop. You are still worth it to me.)

We went back to the car after awhile, making it just before the skies opened up and dropped torrents of rain on us. I’m glad that I’m obsessed with checking the weather constantly because we brought umbrellas and ponchos from home just in case. Henry was all, “We will probably be fine.” HE THOUGHT.

Me walking into the Cure concert with my happy Korean umbrella, LOL.

A FOREST.

Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised with how smoothly entrance into the plaza was. I NEVER bring a purse to concerts anymore so we were able to skip right on ahead to the empty NO BAG line and made into the place in record time. But then then we still had another hour to kill before the rest of the pavilion opened up so that we could get to our seats. But one of the perks of being there early was that we got to hear soundcheck. We couldn’t see the stage because of the hillside but just hearing Robert’s voice and knowing we were in the same goddamn vicinity – holy shit, it made me tear up so bad.

OK on that beautiful note, I’m going to piss off and peace out. More on the actual concert, and “the thing that happened,” in my next post maybe possibly. I’m tired. :/

(BUT OMG I SAW THE CURE.)

Jesus Christ, that’s a wrap on junior year! I had been driving Chooch and his pal Zakk to school every day since Chooch busted his knee in February and then once he healed, I was somehow LOCKED IN to this stupid mom-Uber role. I am really looking forward to shutting off my 6AM alarm for the summer, boy-o!

Anyway, check out this kid, man! It’s so crazy to look at the comparisons from first day to last.

He thought he was going to get away with NO PHOTO because there were actual sheets of rain falling from the sky this morning, but come on, sir. Pics or it didn’t happen etc etc blah blah blah.

This was a whirlwind year. He did his Mexican homestay thang, maintained his 4.0, worked at Dunkin’, busted his knee, joined a secret sailing club, hated/loved reading 1984 in English, became obsessed with debating, chose The Cure for a “greatest band of all time” video argument he had to make (after first choosing Imagjne Dragons for literally no reason), acted like he hated his English class yet somehow this was the ONLY class he obsessively talked about all year, and continued to grow taller than us.

I’m proud of this big lug! Sure he can be frustrating AF with his monotone retorts of “mm cool” and “but did I ask,” but he is a good kid and I’m excited for him to probably not wake up early enough at all this summer in order to have Summer Breakfast Club like the old days. WE WILL SEE.

Anyway, time to start panicking about senior year!

First, I want you all to watch EXO’s comeback video. I already made Janna watch it. Her bias is Baekhyun, in case you’re wondering.

Next, I want you all to schedule a skin screening if you haven’t had one. I have been living with this small mole-ish thing on my thigh and then I noticed one on my arm and I can’t really say I have been IGNORING it since I cry and whine about it every day while screaming about cancer and Henry is like “then go get it looked at” and I’m like “WHY WOULD I DO THAT??”

I guess I’m just trying to be a BRAVE GIRL in spite of my utter aversion to doctors of all persuasions. So first step – schedule a skin screening.

First of all, Henry was originally going to go with me because he’s my emotional support beard, but then he thought the appt was 330 when it was actually 3 and I needed to be there at 245. Needless to say, when I called him at 2:10 to see where tf he was and he said “just leaving work now” I was like “cool guess I’m going alone bye.” I got there with one minute to spare for my “fifteen minutes early” request but some fucker was already checking in and he also was apparently a new patient but shoooooo it was taking a ridiculously long time and then he didn’t know his wife’s phone number for emergency contact purposes and had to look it up?!

While this was happening I took a seat to wait for my turn but I sat too close to the edge and almost fell out of it.

An older woman next to me chuckled. “I did the same thing!”

Ooh human contact, the thing I crave the most in moments of extreme anxiety! “AS IF IM NOT NERVOUS ENOUGH!” I laughed but actually I was trying not to cry.

“Oh you’ll be fine!” she said, but then she got called back so I was back to being alone in my dire thoughts. You guys have no idea the amount of time I spent researching this visit. My search history at work probably looks like I have an ugly skin fetish.

Then it was my turn to register. I started to give the broad my info and as she was typing, I took that opportunity to fill the silence with my rapid blurts of “IM VERY SCARED.” She seamlessly assumed the role of Mother Hen and soothed me with kind words. Then she asked me the name of my family doctor and I sheepishly said that I didn’t have one. She side-eyed me and defensively said that I’m scared of doctors. “This was a really big deal just scheduling this appointment. Baby steps!” And then I promised that finding a pcp would be step 2. I actually had an appt scheduled with one last summer and she had to cancel at the last minute because she needed to take an indefinite leave of absence so I took that as a sign that she was only going to diagnose me horrible things that I’m better off not knowing about, so.

Anyway, then I gave her my emergency contact’s number which I know OFF BY HEART because everyone should know at least persons number by memory!!!

(I don’t know Chooch’s though, isn’t that awful lol.)

Before I could even get very involved in doom scrolling through my fatal thoughts, I was called back by the nurse practitioner lady who was AMAZING. As soon as she shut the door behind her, words just tumbled out of my mouth. Things like “so scared” “ugh” “can I just leave?” and she calmly said, “hey look. You gotta think positive or bad things will happen!” And I was like “ok sure but is there a way to put me under for this?”

She did my intake questions and then gave me a paper gown to put on once she left, which I spent the next five minutes trying to open and the ripped part of it, but did eventually get it to encase my whole torso at least. Then I sat there, sweating and shivering and shaking. I am such a mess sometimes.

(Lol sometimes.)

When the doctor came in several minutes later, I was fully shook. She introduced herself and I practically screamed LOOK AT THIS and so she checked out the spots that I was concerned with and lightly laughed. “Nothing to worry about! Those are just dermatofibroma!”

Pfft ok silly me!

Then she did the full body scan and said I have good skin! I like having good things! I am very relieved. I was prepared to have a biopsy done today. I even googled it and felt that I could handle it because I’m not as afraid of needles when they’re not drawing blood.

I’m so glad that it’s over and I had good results but I was sincerely worried about some of these things and it was s good reminder that I need to be more diligent about more than just my teeth and eyeballs but wowwwweeee the way I get so worked up, I’m liable to just end up giving myself high blood pressure while trying to be preventative about everything else.

Also, I liked the thingie she was using to inspect my dermatoblahblahs. Also, she was just super great in general and I will now be recommending her to everyone in Pgh looking for a dermatologist. But first I have to look up her name because I forgot it.

You know how when people email on their phones and their signature says “sent from my phone, excuse the typos”? Yeah apply that here because I’m blogging from my phone and forgets what l said up there about eyeball diligence because my eyesight still sucks no matter how many times I answer the “better” “worse” “1” “2” questions at the fucking eye doctor.

Anyway!! Be brave like me and go get a skin screening. That is my new thing to push on people. If there was a Kpop song about skin screens, then my pushy skin propaganda could really be on brand.

Good evening. I’m going to apologize in advance to those who read this because there will probably be several posts this week about The Cure and I know it can be annoying AF when I drag shit out but…this is just how it is. Go to your room if you don’t like it.

I know I mentioned at the bare minimum twice that I got Henry and myself tickets to see The Cure for their current US tour and while I have been very excited for the day to arrive, I have also been extremely anxious because I know the effect their concerts have on me AND IT AIN’T ALWAYS PRETTY. I get emotional at concerts as it is but it’s next level with The Cure, man. Some people are able to go, drink a bunch of fucking beer, carry on like assholes and then forget about it the next day, but I will usually wallow in sadness, grief, and other emotions that the Germans probably have words for, but we do not here in America.

That being said, I woke up early on Sunday morning and found my temper COILED TIGHTLY, READY TO SPRING. Nerves, people. Nerves. I started a fight with Henry I M M E D I A T E L Y because he slept an entire hour longer than I did (I have no logic). He had to sit me down on the couch and say TAKE IT EASY but in a nicer way because he is an Erin-whisperer.

Cool story, girl.

We left for the Blossom Music Center-ish area around 10AM that day because (1) we wanted to get lunch and (2) we wanted to do the early parking option that the venue was offering because I was being an utter spaz about merch. (SPOILER: this is a thing that actually worked in our favor, thank the lord.)

We had chosen a place to eat in Akron called NOMZ because it had options for both of us even though it had quite an unfortunate name that was reminiscent of this weird ass girl (not in a good way, because we all know weird is often good!) that I knew from LJ who I would invite to my parties because I was convinced that she would someday grow on me even though she was like a smashburger of Daria and I Can Haz Cheezburger and all of my friends begged me to give it up.

Then it turned out she was racist so, bye bye.

This was inside an industrial-ish shared space on the ground floor of an apartment building. The whole place was called The Market I think, which, wow, how long did it take them to think that one up in the boardroom, right? We placed our order with a really nice young guy working the counter and let me tell you – he was one of the few things this establishment had going for it. First of all, Henry ordered the roast beef but they were out of Horsie sauce. He mulled it over but ultimately stuck with his choice and just got it with mayo instead. I  ordered the chipotle fake chicken sandwich and added fake bacon to it.

Then we sat down and waited. And waited. And waited. I’m not exaggerating when I say it took at least 30-45 minutes for our food to arrive, and this was after watching table after table get the wrong stuff sent to them. So my confidence was at grim levels. Not only that, but the barista / bartender at the bar behind Henry was consistently fucking up drinks and losing orders.

When our food did arrive, delivered by the recipient of The Market’s 2023 Employee with the Most Non-Existent Personality Award, I knew STRAIGHT AWAY mine was wrong. I mean, at the very least, it was still fake chicken, which was good because HELLO, but it was 120% not the chipotle sandwich. First of all, there was zero chipotle taste. Then it had cheese which mine wasn’t supposed to. Rounded out by the fact that it was on Texas toast (EXTREMELY GREASY TEXAS TOAST, at that – the napkins I went through was absurd) when it was supposed to be on a ciabatta roll. OH, AND WHERE WAS MY $4 UPCHARGE HOUSEMADE VEGAN BACON?!

First, because the world revolves around Henry, he had to take care of his own lunch mishap, which was the fact that the bland server delivered his potato salad side with no utensils. She mumbled something about getting him a fork and spoon, but when she dropped them on the table, the spoon had something on it! UGH.

Then he went back and told the NICE GUY about my order blunder and the guy came over and was like I AM SO SORRY but I don’t think it was his fault! He wasn’t the one making the food and our receipt had the correct shit on it. I had already started eating my fake-chipotle sandwich and decided it was a keeper mostly because I didn’t want to wait another 30 minutes for the right one to be made, but I did want the bacon.

#NotChipotle

OMG though, that vegan bacon was actually to die for. It tasted so good that I started to panic that it was real. Henry tried it and determined that it definitely wasn’t real bacon but “pretty close.” So, that definitely got them back some points.

I don’t know, that place was just weird. I was having regertz about not ordering an iced latte but after seeing how many people kept going back to the bar and asking for their orders to be corrected (or, you know, made in the first place since she seemed to be flat out misplacing entire drink orders), it was probably for the best.

Also? None of the 5 TV screens were unmuted, and no house music was playing so all we could hear the whole time was other diners mercilessly scraping their stools off the concrete floor. SHIVERS. I got to watch Novak win the French Open on mute, but at least there were captions.

I really hate how good my sandwich was though because I wanted to another reason to be mad at NOMZ.

God, I hate that name so much.

Bathroom selfie because I asked Henry to take a picture of me at the table because I liked my top and he of course made me look like a mongoloid.

We strolled around the shops inside the Market and bought cookies from various vendors. I was excited to get a large funfetti cookie which we ate as we took a walk around the parking lot and it was very dry/stale. But then I think I ended up really liking it after all? The other one was like a peanut butter cup cookie and it was fat and MOIST but also kind of unsatisfying. I think maybe that was just me in general, MAYBE I’M JUST LIKE PRINCE’S MOTHER.

Idiot Dumbo Man.

I legit cannot pose, I don’t even know why I try.

Anyway, right behind us was a train station for some Cuyahoga Railroad thing and Henry excitedly talked to the guy in the ticket booth who was kind of creepy but also charming somehow? Sure, I walked away mid-conversation because I lost interest but at the same time I kind of want to go back and come on ride the train and ride it.

And that was Akron.