You guys. I found out recently that Henry has never been to Disney World. Apparently he was supposed to go when he was Chooch’s age. He went to Florida for two weeks to visit family and they were going to go to Disney on week two but Henry ended up getting SWIMMERS EAR or something — I don’t always pay attention when he spins his yarns–and so this was his first visit. It took him FIFTY YEARS to get there. The moral is never give up! And also, visit Disney before swimming with your family.  

I don’t know why I thought Henry was going to be stoked for this experience, like it was some late-bloomer, coming-of-age feel-good tale. Because of course he wasn’t stoked and it was none of those things. From the tram to the ferry to the park entrance, he was very “MEH” as you can see in that first photo up there, and there was no twist ending, trust me. 

Here is a collection of photos from Henry on Day One and Day Two because why not. 

DAY ONE: MAGIC KINGDOM

We made Henry wait some absurd amount of time (90 minutes maybe) to ride the Seven Dwarves Mine Ride thing and he got paired up with some other dad who immediately started yukking it up with him and Chooch and I heard Henry LAUGH before the ride even started! When I asked Henry afterward what the man said to make him laugh, he conveniently “couldn’t remember.” Probably some SERVICE joke. 

Henry rides alone on Big Thunder Mountain. HOLD ON, HANK! (That should be the name of Henry’s emo band.)

Unimpressed with the line for the Jungle Ride….

…but slightly amused about taking a boat ride full of mechanical animals and bad puns. 

Confused by all of the magic and happiness. 

Sleeping on the Little Mermaid ride. 

Ambivalent to ride through Winnie the Pooh’s story and also not cool enough to have ears. 

Henry said he wished they had a “First & Last Time” pin. Dang Henry. Maybe if they had more places to nap? 

DAY TWO: HOLLYWOOD STUDIOS

This park had less lines to stand in and about 90% less strollers to dodge, and In turn, Henry seemed a little less hemorrhoid-flared. 

Here we find Henry angry because when he buys pretzels for himself, we always eat most of it, but when he buys one for us, we never offer him any. I mean, you have legs Henry. Walk up and get your own pretzel ok thx. 

Family portrait: me, Chooch, pretzel with cheese. Also, some rando. 

When Chooch and I changed directions without alerting the warden. 

At the SciFi Dine-In, Henry wouldn’t let us get one of the good tables inside the old cars because then one of us would have to dine alone (lol it would have been him) so we had to sit at some dumb table which wasn’t as cool BUT WHATEVER HENRY WANTS, AMIRITE. Here he is considering getting the Ariel punch in the souvenir cup but remembering he doesn’t have enough security in his manhood to get away with it. You know, like Chooch. 

Running tally of all the attractions Henry has fallen asleep on so far:

• Carousel of Progress
• Little Mermaid ride thing at Disney
• Little Mermaid show at Hollywood Studios (a splash of water woke him up lol)
• Walt Disney Productions film
• Muppets 3D

Happy 10th birthday to my favorite kid, biggest frenemy & best concert buddy, Riley aka Chooch aka @butt_jam! We’ve had our ups and downs but at least we moderately got along today at Disney World! I can almost not feel my phantom C-section pain. ALMOST. (Also, thanks for being so dense & allowing this surprise to go off without a hitch!)

We had been planning this trip for quite awhile and I was nervous he was going to figure it out but luckily for as booksmart as he is, he’s relatively dense as shit so even when we flat out pointed to the giant MAGIC KINGDOM arch this morning as we drove beneath it and said “Happy birthday!” he still didn’t know what was going on. And here I thought it was just the mist anticlimactic reveal of all time, but no—he literally just had no idea we were actually going.

Thank god he’s cute!

And then over 12 hours later, in line for Space Mountain, he exclaimed, “Oh! So when you said we were visiting daddy’s Uncle Walt, you actually meant WALT DISNEY.”

Ladies and gentlemen, my gifted son. 

Anyway, for as big of a pain in the ass he can be, he’s generally a good kid and I’m glad we were able to do this for him. He just rambled nonsensically on the way back to the resort about how great Disney World is, before passing out in the backseat. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRAT! <3

SATURDAY 11:27pm: we’ve officially started our 14+ hour road trip. When we originally started to plan this trip and decided to drive instead of fly (because I’m neurotic), Henry was like “No it’s fine I guess. We’ll just leave early on Saturday and take our time since we don’t have to check in until Sunday—” at which point I was making that face I make when I know something that’s about to CHANGE EVERYTHING and Henry was all WHAT. WHAT DID YOU DO. And I was “Well remember when I bought a ticket to see Basement? It’s that Saturday night.” And that’s why we didn’t leave the house until 11:30 tonight, because he had to wait for my show to end. HAHAHAHAHA I’m a really easy person to be in a relationship with.

11:33pm: Henry just said he has to get “fuel” and now I can’t stop repeating it — FUEL. FUUUELLLL. FWEULLLLL. FEEEEEYYYYYOULLLL. He’s not happy about that.

SUNDAY 6:07am: I tried to sleep in the car but it was a constant panicked wake-up, with me screaming HENRY ARE YOUR EYES CLOSED?! There was so much fog on West Virginia, it was eerie and I thought for sure if I closed my eyes for too long, Henry would wreck. But now it’s almost dawn and we’re somewhere in North Carolina with only 8 and a half hours to go UGHHHH. I have to start my driving shift soon. And I ask myself, why didn’t we just fly again? Oh that’s right because of me.

6:41am: We’re at Cracker Barrel in some town in NC and Henry didn’t know the difference between country ham and sugar ham. WHAT A n00b. Also, Henry had to change his shirt in the car because his other one had “mysterious stains” on it.

9:53am: After Cracker Barrel, I was supposed to drive for awhile. And I did! For about 30 minutes. But then I started freaking out because my eyelids wanted to close so bad like literal sandbags were on them. So I took the first exit I came to and Henry woke up like WHAT R U DOING and I was like PULLING OVER SO I DONT FALL ASLEEP AND KILL US. GOD, I can’t even be a responsible person without the Warden yelling at me. Anyway, he’s been driving ever since. Six hours and 22 more minutes to go!!

So then I slept for an hour because I didn’t sleep at all last night and don’t go martyring Henry just yet because he slept all yesterday afternoon to prepare for this and when did I have time to sleep when I’m too busy keeping a watchful eye on the road all through the night?

10:05: We’re only 10 miles away from the monument of the father of gynecology and Henry flipped me off and said he doesn’t care. :( So I turned up Balance & Composure because he doesn’t “care for them.”

10:40am: Tomorrow is Chooch’s birthday so we’re engaging in my favorite story: how Chooch had to be delivered 2 weeks early because he was so gigantic already that the doctor didn’t want to risk letting him go to term.

11:06am: Just postulated at length about how the 80s was like this magical wrinkle in time where all music artists made the best music of their careers and then everything after that was just ok and when I asked Henry for his thoughts, all he said was “Yeah.”

He asked me for one of my Cheezits and I complied but not before licking it. I hate that it doesn’t bother him anymore.

12:57pm: Somewhere in Georgia, past Savannah so now our secret is gutting harder to contain because Chooch thinks we’re visiting Octavia and he’s like WHY ARENT WE STOPPING and I BET A LOT OF THESE PPL ARE GOING TO DISNEY WORLD. He thinks in addition to visiting Octavia, we’re also visiting Henry’s “Uncle Walt” who lives in a trailer that isn’t big enough for us all to sleep in so Chooch has to sleep alone in a tent. But then he just randomly asked if Uncle Walt is dead. Yes Chooch. We’re visiting Uncle Walt’s grave.

1:31pm: We were going to eat at Huddle House in Somewhere, GA but it was taking an unacceptable amount of time to get waited on (IT WASNT CROWDED!) So I threw a fit and now we’re at Taco Bell/KFC because we sure know how to vacation. Had a weird encounter with a little girl in the restroom while I waited for a stall and she washed her hands and waited for her mom; she gave me numerous, lingering once-overs because naturally she covered all of my accessories like all young girls do.

2:45pm: Well, Chooch missed the Welcome to Florida sign, so there’s a conversation we won’t have to have right now. Also, Henry pointed out a car that had pulled over in order for the driver to switch with the passenger, and then I realized he was glaring at me when he said it, hahaha.

3:12: Henry & Jacksonville. SCOOTER WARD, WHERE U AT?

6:37pm: Well guess who got us here, Star Island, in record time? ERIN RACHELLE KELLY. Henry whined at one of the last rest stops so I was like oh for CHRISTS SAKE and took the wheel for the last 2 and a half hours and wound up shaving off a bunch of time too. Because I’m a fucking pro. Meanwhile, there were signs everywhere for Orlando and Disney and Chooch was like WAIT WHAT and I just kept yelling about being too poor to go to Disney so keep dreaming. Ugh. He totally knows. Or maybe not. He’s been asking a lot of questions about Henry’s “Uncle Walt” so we’ll see how tomorrow (i.e. His birthday and the big reveal) goes.

Anyway, remember when we bought a time share last summer? Haha thank god for that.

The resort has these swan boats and Chooch asked if we could all ride in one, side by side. “That’s a high expectation,” he laughed at his own suggestion. “We’ll just end up arguing and bumping into each other. You know, a typical day in the life of the Robbins/Kelly family.” OBSERVATION ON POINT SON.

6:58pm: Chooch is still asking questions about Uncle Walt (“does he shoot machine guns?”) and Henry SUCKS at answering them. He just keeps saying I don’t know to everything while I’m making up back stories and somehow Chooch hasn’t asked yet why I know more about Henry’s uncle than Henry does.

7:54pm: At Sweet Tomatoes which I didn’t realize was an all you can eat buffet thing which I hate and are a complete waste for me and Chooch because we just don’t eat that much (contrary to my BMI) but don’t worry because Henry ate his share, our share, and the next table’s share. The busboy gave him A Look.

8:17pm: Obligatory “Buying Everything We Forgot to Pack” trip to Target. Henry and Chooch were annoying me so I left and came out to sit in the car. I’m sleep-deprived and ready to snap necks.

8:48pm: Went to Orange World because of my obsession with novelty-shaped buildings and stocked up on souvenirs in spite of feeling extremely unwelcome. WHY DOES EVERYONE HATE MEEEEEEEH.

9:00pm: Chooch is swimming while I’m being throughly entertained by the dulcet notes of some broad singing Dionne Warwick’s masterpiece “I Know I’ll Never Love This Way Again” inside the resort lounge. I turned to Henry and zealously mouthed some of the words but he didn’t appreciate it like I know you guys would.

Right guys?

10:13pm: Painted my nails, ate an orange from Orange World that Henry opened for me (incorrectly, I might add), and now I’m saying goodnight to this edition of Live Blog because my vacations are never relaxing & I am really goddamn exhausted. SEEYAWOULDNTWANNABEYA

 I might need a Pod for all the photos I’ve brought home from my Pappap’s house. A lot of the photos are familiar to me but Corey and I have unearthed a ton that are new to us. It’s funny because in my mind, the heyday of that house was obviously the early 80s because hello, HERE’S ERIN. But then we found several photo albums full of evidence of some totally bitchin’ parties that were had in the 60s and 70s it’s like nope, THAT was the heyday. 

“They had a freaking band playing in the game room!” Corey said, thrusting a photo album in my rubber gloved-hands.

You know this intrigued me because BANDS ARE BASICALLY MY WHOLE LIFE. I posted this on Facebook immediately and my Aunt Susie (my mom’s younger sister)  commented and said “Oh, that’s Hausen. Dad had them play at the house every year.” 

#nbd

So for the hell of it, I googled their name and found the bio of one of the members, who still plays in bands with some legit Pittsburgh musicians, but my favorite part of his bio was when he casually mentions that he briefly played in the Urge with TRENT REZNOR. 

I’m so obsessed with this now and want to go to see them and cry TELL ME ABOUT THE TIMES YOU PLAYED AT MY PAPPAP’S HOUSE because I’m sure they’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. It was only 40 years ago. 
   

Meanwhile, my grandma was rocking some COUTURE COIFS. So in addition to hiring Hausen to play at my imaginary wedding, I’m flat out obsessing over how stylish my grandma’s freaking hair was, decade to decade. Seeing all of these old pictures makes me appreciate her so much more, because damn you guys, my grandma was a babe!

I’m also a bit surly that my mom and her sisters were so pretty in their formative years and the universe clearly stepped in after I was born and said, “OK this fam has seen enough beauty so now I present to you this baby who will have 5-6 good years before blimping out and ruining her pretty golden locks with a perm while also having a brief (as in 3 years) battle with facial eczema.”

That happened. 

On top of all this, my mom stuffed my frumpy body UGLY PLAID SKIRTS, KNEE HIGHS AND MOCASSINS. 

Anyway. My grandma’s hair. Let’s look at more of it. 

That’s my mom on the left! I got zero of her looks. :( I apparently look like my birth dad. 
  

The 80s <3

I can’t stand how pretty she was!   

This was her Bahamas look.    

In one of the stack of photos I found, there were no less than 8 photos of the TV, because my grandma wanted the same hair as some broad from “Dallas” and that’s what she would do so she could have a picture to take to the salon. She taught me well, so in the 90s I snapped an entire roll of film during one of Carrie Brady’s scenes on Days of Our Lives and took it to the salon and wound up with nothing like it because I’m not my grandma and spent all of the 90: crying post-salon trips. 

Hashtag Grandma Goals, for real. I need to step up my game in a BIG WAY so my future grandkids’ response to old photos of me won’t be “hnnnnnggggg.” 

Beehive, maybe?

2016 has not been kind to musicians, man. Yesterday, when Glenn mumbled that Prince had died, it kind of felt like time had stopped for a minute, like I was hearing him say those words while drowning in the deep end of a pool.

 The only silver lining to these major celebrity deaths is the brief “coming together” stage of grief. Even if it’s just reading people’s posts on Facebook about the first Prince song they ever heard, or the time they went to one of his concerts—I like knowing these things about people.

So while everyone was sharing their favorite Prince songs on Twitter and Facebook, I’m kind of shocked that my mind didn’t go straight to When Doves Cry, because DAMN, THAT SONG. However, the first Prince-related memory that popped into my head was actually not from my beloved 80s, but the 90s. It was the first album he released after changing his name to the love symbol. I was in middle school and listened to the ever-loving fuck out of that CD on my bad-ass Aiwa stereo.

But most of all, I listened to “The Morning Papers.” It wasn’t a super successful single from what I remember, but there was something about it that resonated with me. Look, I love 80s-era Prince, but his early-90s work was just bananas to my ears and it soundtracked a very pivotal time in my life when I was starting to really piece together my own identity, culminating in my inevitable entrance into the Yo Girl Years. (Junior high was rough, you guys.)

And don’t even get me started on “Love Sign,” his jam with Nona Gaye. So many memories of begging my mom for Karl Kani boots while that song played on the radio.

But of course, I can’t find either of those songs on YouTube so just go buy the albums or make it up in your head if you’ve never heard of them.

Wait! Here’s a live performance of The Morning Papers from Arsenio Hall, lol:

This sucks. Another piece of my childhood shattered. SOMEONE PLEASE WATCH OVER PHIL COLLINS.

Today at work, Todd strolled over and said that he decided I remind him of Mother Teresa. I LIKE WHERE THIS IS GOING, I thought to myself, as I swiveled in my seat to give Todd my full, undivided attention.

He name-dropped M.Teresa several more times, basically insinuating that I might even be BETTER than her, what with how I’m changing the world, one postcard at a time. My head was inflating to Trump dimensions.

Turns out Todd was just trying to get Amber2 riled up, who was standing near my desk but not paying attention, so he eventually had to resort to saying, “RIGHT AMBER?”

Once she was looped in, and after adequate eye-rolling, she asked, “And what would you even be the saint of? Brookline?”

GOOD QUESTION! I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, which was something about clowns, but it didn’t originally make sense because nothing I say anymore makes any sense and I suck at everything that requires using any portion of my brain, which turns out is basically everything.

Since then, I have settled on Clown Town. Saint Erin of Clown Town. I am the tart that all the clowns will pray to when they can’t find their red noses or get a pie thrown in their face, maliciously as opposed to comically.

Honestly though, I AM PERFECT FOR THIS JOB.

Todd picked up my employee badge thing and deemed that this will be the picture of me that appears on grilled cheeses, potato chips, and prayer cards:

I was so excited to be a saint, but then a little while later, dumb Glenn mumbled that PRINCE HAD DIED and now I don’t care about being a saint anymore because Prince is dead.

Hello this is a blog post from 2011. I’m revisiting happy times and because my life is so dumb, this is the first thing that came to mind?!

Carnies are arguably one of the best things about the fair, especially if they will engage with you.

I’m sure a lot of people will disagree with me though, like one of my co-workers who kept sayin, “NO, THE FOOD! THE FOOD IS THE BEST PART! to the point where I thought it was going to come to blows. Which is why I used the word “ARGUABLY.”

I mean, if anything, carnies make people like Henry feel more attractive, I’m sure.

One of these days, I am going to remember my pad and pencil and ask one for an interview. I’m dying to see their lair.

So without further ado, here is a collection of some of my favorite specimen from this year’s Westmoreland County Fair.

I. Cathy

A female carny is a rare sight at the fair and often easy to mistake for just another guy. But if you look past her hardened stare and voluptuous jowls, you can just barely make out the slight outline of breasts beneath her neon polo.

Her name is Cathy and she was not particularly fond of me after I had the audacity to lower the safety bar on my own after Laura and I boarded the Viking, a mini-Pirate ship knockoff.  When she saw my crime, her face became steeped with annoyance and disdain.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said in a carny-drawl remiss of any semblance of femininity. I believe I gulped a little and apologized, even though I wasn’t sure what I had done wrong. Cathy shook her head and continued past us to the rest of the riders who weren’t ballsy enough to try and do her job for her.

Luckily, the man behind us found himself to be a bit too rotund to fit comfortably in the seat; Cathy manually released everyone’s safety bar, allowing him to exit. This also afforded me a chance to have a do-over by keeping  my hands off the holy safety bar. Cathy seemed pleased about this.

Before the ride started, I heard her tell the girl behind me to keep her arms inside the ride. “You don’t want them to get chopped off, do ya?” she snarled. But then while the ship was a’rockin’, she stood below encouraging us to flail our arms and emote carnival joy.

“I don’t understand,” I yelled to Laura. “I thought she didn’t want us to have our arms chopped off?!” Meanwhile, Cathy stood down there by the gate, pantomiming being shot in the heart.

“You guys are killing me!” she screamed.

“Wooo!” I cheered, calling forth my best Ben Stein on the Thrill Ride impression in an attempt to appease her. I kept my elbows tight against my side and raised  my forearms  just enough to get my hands up near my face, in an effort to show enthusiasm without becoming That Girl Who Lost Her Arms At the Fair.

Later on, Laura and I were enjoying a casual jaunt on the Yo-Yo when she noticed that Cathy was over on the Viking, doing the same “You’re killing me!” routine. I felt extremely betrayed. I thought that was just for us.

Fuck you, Cathy.

Though I have to say she was pretty much the only carny who even tried to engage us, with the exception of an old, grizzled mountain man carny operating the Yo-Yo who grazed my left boob when he pointed out that I forgot to buckle the second safety belt. That right there is how the fair keeps me coming back.

II. H-h-h-hot Carny

The No-Name Yellow Ride was back in full effect at the Westmoreland County Fair. You might remember that I have an extreme hate-hate relationship with this mothershitting torture device. I think I even dubbed it the Aerial Pelvic Exam last time. But Laura was willing to ride it all so I felt brave and decided I couldn’t let her leave the fair without taking a spin on this stupid ride. WHAT KIND OF RIDE DOESN’T HAVE A NAME? The kind that wants to be able to skulk away in anonymity in the event of death.

“Can we ride separately?” I asked the young, bronze, supple, handsome, hot, OMGWANTTOSEEHISWEENER carny manning the ride. He gave a slight nod, which I interpreted as “Meet me behind the porta johns at sunset.

Bring Saran Wrap, chocolate whipped cream and stirrups.”

That Old Tie-Dyed Bitty is like 80, walks with a cane, and STILL rode more shit than Janna and Henry do.

“I have a crush on him,” I admittedly all breathlessly to Laura, who was sitting behind me. She just laughed but I know that she agreed that if you look past the fact that he’s like, 16, HE IS A REAL CATCH.

For a carny.

I could tell he hasn’t been in the game for very long. His fingernails were clean and his trail of illegitimate children is probably pretty short. And even though he never smiled, I’m pretty sure he had all his teeth. I’m wagering that a wad of Skoal would have rolled out of his mouth had he ever smiled though.

I tried to fixate  on him to keep myself from expiring as the Yellow Ride pendulated us wickedly through the air. I have a vague recollection of Henry and Mike standing on the ground watching smugly as we pulled all sorts of petrified faces. After the thirtieth revolution, I pretty  much lost all will to even scream and resigned to hanging limply over the side of the seat as all the color and life drained from my face. I noticed that behind me, Laura had quit laughing, too.

In some countries, this is how they get people to talk.

Anyway, after the ride ended, I couldn’t unlatch my safety bar. And by “couldn’t” I mean that I didn’t even try because I wanted H-h-h-hot carny to rescue me. But then Laura bounded out of her seat and said, “Here I can do it!” while I was, in slow motion, shouting, “Nooooooo!” He was one car away from putting his hands within inches of my crotch.

Laura was extremely apologetic after that. I COULD HAVE BEEN PREGNANT WITH HIS BABY BY NOW. I would have made her the godmother, too. Good job, Laura!

It’s OK, because later, I made her and Mike accompany me while I photostalked him. Mike seemed a bit unsure about this, probably because Henry was like, right there (as if Henry expects anything else from me), but Laura was a good wing-woman. Probably because she has been reading my blog for so long!

I took this picture after we had been standing there way past the point of “casual pausing.” He looked right at me so I yelled, “RUN!” and then fled with flailing arms. Laura and Mike calmly retreated behind me.

After catching up with Henry, I tried to show him this picture but he just pushed me away and called me a child.

III. Amish Carny

SEE LAST POST.

IV. Bingo Carny

Unfortunately, I did not get a photo of Bingo Carny. We were standing right next to the Bingo tent while Henry was making the longest lemonade purchase of all time, right when a new game was starting up. The woman barking into the mic sounded apathetic and severely lacked the enthusiasm that Powers Great American Midways drills into their game carnies. (The Westmoreland County Fair is powered by Tropical Amusements and it fails miserably in the moxie department. Henry is annoyed that I know enough about the amusement industry to even draw such comparisons, but I could make a pie chart if you want.)

Anyway, the first ball she drew was O69, which she announced as such: “Oh?….69.” Like she was kind of surprised and into it at first, and then bored and unimpressed during it.

In other words, she sounded exactly like me.

And she just kept repeating it over and over, making Mike, Laura and me laugh harder each time. Henry just frowned because he is Big Adult.

After Henry got his fancy lemonade which took so long to acquire it should have been served in a bottle with a Mike’s label wrapped around it, we continued past the Bingo tent only to find out that Bingo Carny, who was definitely as old and worn-out as her voice, was a veritable magnet for facial piercings. Totally was not expecting that.

V. Lola’s Dad

Not a carny, but just some dad that I hated and couldn’t shake and just sleazy enough that someone should have jammed him into a neon Tropical Amusements polo.

Chooch was riding some dumb kid coaster which didn’t even come CLOSE to rivaling the Wacky Worm, and I was standing off to the side fiddling my camera like the pocket vagina it is. Suddenly, the left side of my body was jolted and paralyzed all at once with a booming cat call of “LOLA!!!!! LOLA!!!!” I visibly jumped and shirked back.

“Sorry,” the guy laughed as he noticed my alarmed expression. “That’s my daughter,” he explained, pointing at some random child on the ride. Then he launched into a new round of “LOLA!!!!!”s as if suddenly I would be OK with this.  I caught Henry laughing at this new uncomfortable situation I found myself in.

His voice speared my brain and conjured up visions of being hog-tied in the trunk of a 1988 Dodge Omni.

Of course, he happened to be everywhere I was for the rest of the day. Fuck you, and fuck Lola too.

[Up next: More random thoughts on the fair, the Jersey Shore Invasion, possibly a Henry interview (I have the pictures, I just need the cooperation!). I have a million more words to write. Hellllllp.]

This painting has been waiting to be sold since 2009, but finally, he is en route to his new home on some wall in Spokane, and the person who purchased it called me a precious artist so now I love her.

Forever grateful that there are people out there who like my art. And if you’re one of them, go buy something* because I need money for vacation haha!

*Just no custom paintings right now, sadly. I’m taking a short hiatus because I haven’t had enough time lately and it’s slowly killing me. I need to paint something!

Anyway, Godspeed little painting! Enjoy your new home!

The bus was late that day. Something about major roadways being cordoned off due to a parade for amputees. There would later be a riot, instigated by the albinos who were tired of being the least celebrated minority in the city of Fuglyfoot. But that’s a story that cannot be easily told without the use of obscenities and slurs that would make Satan himself shrink back into the shadows.

But the issue of the bus tardiness, this was no good for Maureen Hucklecrack, who had to be at court in fifteen minutes, else her philandering ex-husband would turn over evidence that would prove she moonlighted as a sort of Heidi Fleiss with midget clientele. And who knows what Maureen would have to resort to without that coitus-derived income. Probably would have to sell her Dolly Parton TV tray collection and stop getting Botex in the back of the corner fish market.

On the next wire, George Stockingcock’s anxiety level rose as he glanced at his watch and realized that he was already twenty-two minutes late for his prostrate exam. This made him feel a nervous diarrhea-burn in his lower stomach for a split second, until he created a Plan B, in which the mulatto phlebotomist he was seeing on the sly could maybe pull on her latex dominatrix gloves (to camouflage her liver spots) and conduct her own posterior prod-fest.

Clutching rigidly on an upper wire, Amy Slityourthroat was livid. The night before, she had caught her boyfriend of THREE MONTHS listening to the Used with some other girl. Some other girl who didn’t even paint her nails black and had the audacity to wear clothes from Hollister. Hollister, for Christ’s sake! She should go date a surfer and stay the hell away from my stuffed-in-dirty-skinny-jeans boyfriend, Amy thought erratically. And now the bus she takes every Wednesday to her anger management class was LATE. But she was too busy drawing a blueprint for murder to notice.

And then there was Lester Copafeel. Lester had been perched on the same wire for fifteen months, ever since his mother abandoned him for being mute. No one was sure if he was waiting for a bus, or for anything at all, really.

Sharing these photos has been really cathartic for me. If you’re still visiting my blog even through all my mopiness and ridiculously embarrassing navel-gazing (yes, I’m aware, but I can’t stop!), then thank you, baes. I like sharing my woes with the world. I’m just a generous kind of broad.

  Chooch inverted that crucifix the other day and I was like, “BOY! NOT WHEN WE’RE TWO DAYS AWAY FROM GOING TO A BIRTHDAY PARTY IN A CHURCH.” Shit, son.

  
The sunset was pastel AF the other night when I was leaving. I miss living on this street a lot sometimes. There is so much wildlife everywhere! Deer and turkey just like, casually stroll down the lane together, like it’s no big deal. And Henry pointed out a possum the other night when we were leaving. When I still lived at home, we used to have sheep as pets, for Christ’s sake. (And a blood-thirsty rabbit.)

I never noticed these faces on the dining room mirror before.

At one time, this porch was entirely open. Corey and I have been shaking Val down for Original House details. (There was a fire at one point and it was rebuilt into what it is today.) She pointed out that in one of downstairs bathrooms, there was a window where a mirror currently hangs, and that’s where she used to sneak out of the house, haha. Also?! Her bedroom pre-house fire was the current clown room! Which actually was never really called the clown room by anyone but me.

It was technically considered the “stereo room.”

I mean, here’s the carpet:

I’d like to curl up and die on that carpet. BIG FUCKING EMO SAD SACK SIGH.

Found a stack of these in a bathroom drawer.
  

Chooch’s new bae. He’s been spending so much time there that now he’s starting to have dreams about the house, which makes me sad, but at least it’ll live on in someone else’s memory now too I guess? He said he’s going to start writing it into his Amethyst story and my heart was basically pumping confetti and smaller, baby hearts into my chest.

Yesterday we made Val order us pizza (lol) and Chooch insisted on eating at the dining room table, which I swear to god probably hasn’t been used since…1983? I remember my grandparents had a really big Christmas dinner one year with lots of extended family, and people sat in the dining room, in the living room at a long table, and also at the kitchen table. There were people everywhere but more importantly, there were presents for me everywhere, too!  #spoiledbrat

#formalpizzaparty #whysoformal #usingthegoodpapertowels

  

This fucking bowling game was always so frustrating, even back when it was new and should have worked properly.

Music was clearly super important in this house. There were speakers all over the house so that you could listen to whatever was playing in the clown room, or the kitchen, etc. There was always music playing in the kitchen when I was growing up and I think that’s a big reason why I always leave the radio on in my bedroom.

I had so many good hangouts in this room during my teen years! This is the largest of the three game rooms in the basement.

Glass guns filled with wine, which Henry discovered in a drawer.

ALONG WITH A PROJECTOR!!

This is the carpet in the game room we always referred to as “the pool room” because, you know, that’s where the pool table is.
  I used to be so good at PacMan, but my Pappap was a champion.

I loved fucking around with the intercom system when I was a kid, making it squawk and being generally annoying which I know sounds shocking.

Corey was fiddling with the one in the den and it still works kind of! We heard Henry and Chooch outside. I never actually knew how to properly work those things, though.

That time Corey turned the corner and didn’t expect anyone to be there.

MORE TOM SELLECK!

This house needs preserved,  you know? Some of the things inside there, you just don’t see anymore. How does that quote go? It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. LOL. My life is that quote AF right now.

This weekend so far has been nice, and nice is what I need. We dropped Chooch off at his chorus rehearsal and went to Eide’s so I could stand in line and wait for them to open because god forbid I didn’t get my grubby hands on the RSD16 Xiu Xiu/Twin Peaks release, which was the one record that I HAD to have.

I also grabbed the Goblin Suspiria 7″ and then smartly stopped at that because I could have easily spent all of our vacation money.

Restraint, sometimes I have it.

Meanwhile, Kara had walked over to the school where Chooch’s chorus rehearsal was because she wanted to hear him sing, and can I just tell you how much that meant to me? I mean, I’m sure it probably meant a lot to him too, but this isn’t Oh Honestly, Chooch, so we’re just going to focus on my feelings here. Kara is such a good friend! She was still there when Henry and I got back, so I got to hang out with her and covet her son Theo’s PERFECT CURLS like I always do because oh, to have such effortlessly cute hair.

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That kid on the far right, tho. HE IS A FUCKING JOY TO WATCH OMG DO I LIKE CHILDREN NOW?! No. I don’t.

Kara admitted that hearing the kids sing made her tear up a little bit and I reluctantly had to agree — I’m not a fan of children, but hearing these kids sing is kind of inspiring. This isn’t like listening to a bunch of kids who are forced to sing in their school’s holiday show. These kids were chosen to be there and are stoked to sing. This isn’t something that we have to drag Chooch out of bed for on Saturday mornings. I’m really excited for the big show next month!! Especially because it’s right down the street from my work so I don’t even have to go home. Convenience, I like it.

Henry and I don’t sit together anymore. We’re estranged sitters. It works better for everyone this way. Also, give Henry a chair and he will fall asleep in it immediately.

After chorus rehearsal, we went to Amber²‘s son Teddy’s first birthday party! Amber¹ was there too, with her boyfriend Brian, so we all sat together and pigged out on plates of cheese and fruit and marveled over the fact that we were in a church and somehow our foreheads weren’t sizzling with the 666.  Chooch was immediately drawn to a blue balloon and was sparring with it dangerously close to the cake table and I was SWEATING. Everyone was like, “Chooch is being fine!” but I cried, “SOMETHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN. THERE IS TENSION IN THE AIR.” Every time he went off to get more food, I was clenching at the table.

Turns out, nothing ended up happening. Especially when I let him use my phone and he killed a good 45 minutes playing with Face Swap.

Chooch as Bradley, lol.

We had a really fun time, but one of the highlights was definitely when Amber1 realized that Teddy was wearing an Uno t-shirt because he’s one. It was a real “wait for it…” moment.

In addition to the table of fruit, veggies, and cheese, there were stuffed shells and an entire hoagie ring WITH JUST VEGGIES on it. Oh how my meatless heart soared. Well done on the food spread, Amber²! When I was getting my meatless hoagie, Brian was behind me going on about Red Bull dressing, and I just walked away because I didn’t know what he was talking about. He brought it up again back at the table and Amber was like, “The what now?” and he was like, “Red Bull dressing. They have it up there.” And then it turned out only Henry understood what he was talking about because Amber and I both thought he meant that the dressing was made with Red Bull but apparently it’s dressing that is used at the restaurant Red Bull Inn, like how were we supposed to know that!?

Another highlight was when Brian asked me what the next concerts are that I’m going to and I was like, “YOU ARE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE BRO” so I happily told him all about Bled Fest and then we talked about Warped Tour and basically, Amber has to marry him now.

I got Teddy “Where the Sidewalk Ends” and wrote him a note inside about how there is a band that named themselves Silverstein after Shel Silverstein and if he ever wants to annoy his mom, he should listen to them real loud because she’ll hate it.

:)

Amber kept trying to thrust Teddy at me because my baby allergy is hilarious to others. Luckily, she gave me treat bag for my troubles.

Then I told Chooch he was going home with Amber and Brian and he was all, “Thank god” because WE’RE HORRIBLE PARENTS, EVERYBODY. Thanks for inviting us, Amber!! It’s always fun to see my work buddies out in the wild.

After that, it was more #MakePappapsHouseGreatAgain.

We made a lot of progress and then somehow, we all just naturally migrated into the living room and spent a good hour hanging out and casually talking like a normal family, and THIS is what I meant about silver linings. I can’t remember the last time my mom and I sat in the same room and laughed.

The catalyst to this was horrific and traumatic, but the fact that we are able to still find humor in it and essentially coexist peacefully through it all speaks volumes. Everyday, I wake up and can’t wait to get back over there.

BETTER DAYS ARE COMING!!

ALWAYS TIME FOR BULLET POINTS, BUSTER.

• I mentioned once before half of my brain caved in that Chooch had been invited to participate in this city school chorus collaboration hoedown. He is like, REALLY into it, too, which is awesome but also something that I just understand because I was always so afraid to sing in front of people. (Except for karaoke nights at McCoys—-I owned Old MacDonald’s Farm, you guys.) Henry wanted to just drop Chooch off at his chorus rehearsal last Saturday because he’s a shitty parent who doesn’t care to observe his spawn flourishing in his element. But I said “Nah bitch, we stayin'” and thank god we did because I got to have an intense stare down with Chooch’s current nemesis (some Mean Girl from his school). “I just stared at her so hard,” I proudly bragged to Henry, clasping my hands behind my back. “Wow. You showed her,” Henry mumbled. Sometimes I wonder how words are even able to crawl past his dumb mustache. And then the main chorus instructor guy played them the original recording of We Are the World, which they’ll be singing with the middle school and high school choruses on the big night. Dude was all, “You’ve probably never heard this song before, but I guarantee there are parents and grandparents crying back there right now” and every last ding-dongin’ head turned out and there I was, VULNERABLE AND EXPOSED, with real life tears streaming down my cheeks. I have zero control of my emotions anymore. A WOMAN ON EDGE. I had to stuff my hair into my face because I was embarrassed, OK? Sue me.
  • I haaaaaated music class in middle school. I have PTSD from all the singing of Sound of Silence and From a Distance, and then it reminds me of Desert Storm and those were just weird times and I hated sixth grade so bad. I had a perm, braces, and I WAS FAT. So you can guess how well I was able to integrate.
    • Speaking of PTSD, I think I might have it once this current sitch I’m embroiled in is over.

• Halfway through Chooch’s rehearsal, I wanted to walk around and explore the school and Henry was all, “WE CAN’T DO THAT. WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO JUST WALK AROUND!??!” and I was like, “Live a little, pops” but then he wouldn’t follow me so I did most of the exploring on my own and it gave me a huge rush because I love poking around in places where I don’t belong. Whenever I would go on vacation with my grandparents and we’d end up in a hotel with an involved floor plan (you know, more than just a square) I would fucking FREAK OUT and start exploring. This particular school is like that! All sorts of random stairwells and nooks.  100% cooler than Chooch’s school. Henry just stood there with his arms crossed, repeatedly reminding me that I’m “so dumb.”
• One week until we go on vacation and I could just die of anticipation. I need this vacation more than ever.
• Finally sold this bad boy and I was really happy about that but then I started crying because I loved it, especially when it fell on peoples’ heads:

• One day last week, Chooch got in the car and said, “Put on Saosin or, I don’t know, Phil Collins” and my heart nearly burst with joy. Keep having an open mind when it comes to music, boy-eeeeeee.
• Stanley Cup Playoff time!!! The Pens won their first game against the Rangers, and our kittens got a strong taste of my Stanley Cup Playoff scream. I think it’s safe to say they’re not fans.
• Postcard game is still strong AF, y’all. Look, I even made it on the Welcome Pittsburgh Instagram, which I had to sign a makeshift consent form and really didn’t want to have my picture taken, but luckily, my Jay Leno chin is in remission or something (lol, j/k: strategically-placed post cards)
  • Don’t forget to give me your address if you want one!:

• Something that usually generates a gasp from people is when I say I don’t like Guns and Roses. When I worked at the meat place, my office mate and I always listened to the classic rock radio station, but any time GnR of AC/DC came on, I’d have to get up and walk out. Maybe I have some repression? But most likely it’s just that the scholars inside my ears disagree that it’s good music.
• I get to see Octavia in a few weeks and I’m basically doing a pee dance about it!
• “…and then the weed farm caught on fire,” Chooch finished recapping some cartoon he’s been watching. File under: Things I Didn’t Hear and Eh, He’ll Probably Be OK.
• Henry was getting BULLIED AT WORK! Hoo boy, you better bet I was rearin’ to go when he told me this. I looked him up on Facebook and found that we have a mutual friend so then I was going to PLANT A CONFRONTATIONAL SEED but Henry was all, “OMG please don’t. Just stay out of it.” I couldn’t stand how guido-ish this guy looked and knew that I could win a fight with him. DON’T FUCK WITH HENRY. Everyone knows that the only people allowed to bully him would be me and Chooch. Fucking duh.

• Corey and me AF right now ^^^^^^.
• I had my “wellness” screening today at work. Basically, if you sign up to have your dignity snatched by someone in a lab coat, you get better….insurance? I never read the emails all the way through. This is my fourth time signing up even though I hate the finger-pricking part. Glenn tried to tell me that this year, they changed it and now they take it from your neck, like I’m THAT GULLIBLE. OK Glenn, nice try. At least now I don’t have to have someone go with me. Second year doing it on my own, woo! Anyway, as soon as got to the ROOM, one of the lab people called me over and grabbed my hand. “Wow, your hand is COLD,” she exclaimed, and I gulped. “Are we doing the finger part first?” I asked, as she fucking wound up and swung that damn thing right into the tip of my finger and I gave out a strangulated yelp. “Yep,” she laughed, already  molesting my finger for blood drops. SO FUCKING FUNNY. And then my favorite part happened, which is when she cried, “Really? You’re afraid of THAT LITTLE PRICK when you have TATTOOS ON YOUR FINGERS?! Oh honestly, Erin.” I came back down to my desk afterward and excitedly relayed this encounter with Glenn, who said, “You know she probably doesn’t read your blog, right?” Killjoy.
  • I showed Henry my bandaid (which I swapped out with one of the cute Ikea ones that Gayle gave me last month for my unbirthday gift) after work and he asked, “What did you do?” WHAT DID I DO!? I HAD MY FUCKING FINGER PRICKED TODAY. Try to keep up with my life, asshole.

• We had lunch at the Modern Café on t he Northside last Saturday and Chooch was like floored that not only did the jukebox have The Summer Set, but it also had EMAROSA. He didn’t know that until after he spent a whole whopping $1 to request “Chelsea,” which we could barely hear once it started playing. Chooch was pissed because all of the other songs came on at normal volume. About 10 minutes later, the waitress (who was completely fooled by his faux-charm, btw) came back to give us refills and Chooch brashly blurted, “How come when I played a song on the jukebox, I could barely hear it?” And she was all, “Oh no, that sucks. Let’s go check it out” so he took her over and showed her which song it was and she went to the cash register to get another dollar for him. And then right as the song started playing, she went behind the bar, grabbed a remote and cranked that shit. She gave him a thumbs up from across the room and he was like FUCK YES I’VE GOT IT MADE BITCHES. He honestly makes me sick sometimes. He’s like a little fucking Charles Manson!!

 

• Got some new succulent boos last Sunday as a desperate attempt to try and reintroduce some normalcy into my disoriented, slightly deranged life. Thinking about naming this babe Stonick. NOW STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM, CATS. UGH.
• I’ve been having a field day going through all the photos I’ve been finding at my Pappap’s house. That was really one of the only things I was insistent on wanting to have, because I’m a phreak for phamily photos. This one made me laugh so hard, because someone was clearly super stoked to beat video game Uninvited.
  • There were actually several more that I found after I took this picture. Like, nearly an entire roll wasted on this:

• PAGING MR. HERMAN.
• Chooch and I were fighting and Henry had to go and butt in as usual. Chooch cried, “So what, are you on HER side?” and Henry was all, “No, I’m on MY side.” Whatever Henry. Must be lonely over there on that side.
• So…the terrible trolley change happened.  Construction started the day after Easter, so I took that day off a few weeks in advance, so that I could do a Trial Run. People made fun of me, but look: I needed to know what I was in for without the added stress of “WILL I MAKE IT TO WORK ON TIME.” And wouldn’t you know, I woke up that morning sick as fuck. OK, not that sick. But it was definitely the courting stages of a cold. My throat hurt and I just felt exhausted and shitty. Also, IT WAS RAINING AND ABOUT 40 DEGREES. However, I knew that if I didn’t get up and follow-through with this trial run, I would never hear the end of it. So I got up, waited for Chooch to go to school, and then I dealt with that shit.

The shuttle part was a breeze! I had plans to meet Kara once I got downtown, so I was sending back-patting text messages about how brave I was being.

And it was kind of fun being on the shuttle! It’s not a very long ride, just long enough to bypass all of the trolley track construction and deposit us at the next working platform in Beechview. The trolley came and it was kind of a dream because it was EMPTY so I didn’t have that heart-clutching fear of NOT GETTING A SEAT (honestly this has only happened to me three times, ever and once was because it was OPENING DAY for the Pirates so I was smashed up against Yinzer baseball fans and it was just no good).

Anyway, the trolley driver had to switch ends, since now the trolley would be going back into town, and I was like, “Why does he keep slamming things? Oh, because the trolley isn’t starting.” So then we just sat there for around 30 minutes without him having the consideration to give us a single update, and while everyone was tugging at their collars and calling into work to advise of their impending tardiness (lol, tardiness),  I smugly thought to myself, “THIS IS WHY I TOOK THE DAY OFF FOR THIS SHIT.”

Got into town and expertly crossed over the bridge to the Northside where Kara and Theo met me (after we missed each other twice because nothing can ever go smoothly!) and we walked to some tea place that I can’t remember the name of now and I had a PB&J for breakfast and a chai latte because that’s how I do.

Meanwhile, Henry was like, “I can’t believe you’re dragging Kara down into this with you.” KARA DIDN’T CARE, HENRY. Because she is a GOOD FRIEND. God.

Then Kara and Theo walked me down to another trolley station that I’ve never used before and Kara was all, “OK, here it is, good luck!” and I pretended to be OK but as soon as she left, I was like, “WHERE AM IIIIIIIIIII!?!?!!?!” Don’t worry. I made it home. I actually walked home from the Beechview trolley station instead of fucking with the shuttle again though.

All that walking did wonders for my cold-ravaged body. I got home sometime after noon, slipped off my TOMS and crawled back into bed, thinking I would try to do what normal adults do when they’re coming down with a cold, and like, rest or whatever. Honest to god, I wasn’t laying there for more than 3 minutes before my phone rang and it was the MOTHERFUCKING SCHOOL NURSE so then I had to slip back into my TOMS and walk to Chooch’s fucking school to retrieve him because HOW CONVENIENT.

Fucking trolley construction :(

I’ve had to deal with the shuttle situation several more times since then and honestly, I’ve learned that it’s so much easier to put up with when you’re dead inside.

• Oh hello again, bullet points. Sorry, I got lost somewhere up there.
• Last week, not one, not two, BUT THREE of Chooch’s teachers called Henry because of his “behavior” but don’t you worry because by the end of the day, a fourth teacher called too. (The GYM TEACHER. But not the hot one.) This has been a really great year. Fourth grade rules. I’m not losing any sleep (or hair) over life right now AT ALL.
  • Surprisingly, when I had my blood pressure checked at my wellness thing this morning, it was “perfectly normal.” I just laughed and said “No really” and my finger pricker was all, “No I’m serious. Your blood pressure and all your other numbers are great.” So now I’m like DID I SNATCH SOMEBODY’S BODY IN THE NIGHT because I feel like I’m on the precipice of a heart attack every day and can’t believe that all of my readings were “great.” BUT HEY, I’LL TAKE IT. My body apparently is like “IDGAF about this stress.”

• I haven’t been painting, indefinite hiatus. But here is the last custom I made for my friend Mallory. It’s some dude from Firefly.
  • The TV show, not the band.
    • THAT MADE ME LOOK REALLY OLD.
      • YOU ARE THE WOMAN THAT I’VE ALWAYS DREAMED OF, I KNEW IT FROM THE START. *FLUTE NOISE*

• Um, here’s a picture of me in case you forgot what my turtle face looked like. This might have been back when I wasn’t ugly crying every day though. Last Friday my boss said to me, “Honey, I don’t know how to say this, but you look very tired” and then said something about me wearing my heart on my sleeve and I was like THAT’S BECAUSE I’M AN ORIGINAL EMO, SUE.

“You shall fear the wrath of the Real Alien Commander!” Bradley announced.

“Oh I-I will!” Drew answered.

“Well, clearly you want to die!” Bradley replied.

“As I have won 78 UFC Medals. So you shall die!”

It’s true though Bradley had won 72 UFC Medals.

“As Martin Luther King Jr. once said ‘There’s no reason to fight. When you have love.’ So let’s end this,” Pearl pleaded.

“Martin Luther never said that, and I’m no historical person,” Amethyst grinned.

The aliens had left the door open. So the aliens that ran away peered behind a bush that had no leaves because of the nuke.

“Ye’ Humans could need ay potion!” a weird wizard said from the top of the UFO dropping random potions on the aliens and humans. It specifically hit Penelope, Drew, and Bradley. It made Bradley slim, and made Drew buff but a bunny, and Penelope was now a human.

“Finally, I-I can spoke about-” Bradley cut Penelope off.

“I AM NOT BUFF ANYMORE! AHHH!” Bradley panicked.

“As me were s-saying, finally, I-I could spoke about who Drew is liar, and no tell truth,” Penelope tattled.

“Ever since me were baby bunny, Drew be kicking me bum day all,” Penelope added.

“Okay shut up! You have very bad grammar!” Pearl stopped Penelope.

The wizard stared and curled his lip.

“Oops!” the wizard apologized.

“Get back here you horrible person,” Bradley yelled.

Drew, the buff bunny, jumped on Bradley and bit his neck.

As she was very angry, she could still attack aliens.

“Drew, Penelope? Is that you?” Drew’s mom asked struggling to open her eyes.

“Drew? Why are you a bunny, and Penelope’s a human?” Drew’s dad asked also struggling to open up his eyes.

“Last time we saw you it was white and cold. What’s is it called?” Drew’s mom struggled to remember.

“No, last time we saw them it was green and colored things were in the ground,” Drew’s dad corrected.

“It be called Winter and Spring,” Penelope told them.

“We have a day of birth box wrapped up and has a ribbon for you,” Drew’s mom said.

This post is full of pictures, so if you’re a member of the GET OVER IT camp, you are permitted to peace out now. :) I AM ACCOMMODATING EVEN IN MY EMOTIONAL STUPOR! Anyway, this is one of the walls in the den, featuring some framed baby prints of yours truly. Also my aunt Susie and some old people. The den is one of the only…how do you say…subdued rooms in the house. The wall paper in that room is textured, and I used to always scratch it with my nails, probably while watching HUNTER, who knows. I would be lying if I said I haven’t been sneaking in some gentle wall-scratches lately. Creature comforts, old habits, etc.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve pinched my fingers in that goddamn gate!

GIRRRRL, cover up.

Sharon was way into Cabbage Patch Kids in the 80s. She used to fly to Babyland, USA once a year to buy whatever those special ones were, I don’t know. I was never into it, even though she tried to get me to be. She bought me a preemie once (how weird is it now to think that you could get “premature” versions of Cabbage Patch Kids??) and I thanked her by repeatedly bashing its head off the road in front of my old house in South Park. (Sylvania Dr., holla!)

Henry found a drawer with a stash of Cabbage Patch Kids birth certificates the other day and just sighed.

When I was really young, the Christmas tree was in this room and we ate in the adjacent dining room. But then my grandma started inviting less people so we started having more informal Christmases on the porch.  I didn’t care where the tree was as long as there was a veritable toy store wrapped underneath it with MY NAME on it.

#COBWEBS

I’ve really been trying to take advantage of the situation by spending as much time over there as possible. Henry keeps saying that I’m too involved, too immersed, too obsessed…maybe the obsessed part is true, but I firmly believe that this is where I need to be right now, taking the time to go through the drawers and closets, remembering my old plastic bowling set that I used to play with on the indoor porch; the paper mache mail holder I made for my grandma (which is still intact 30+ years later!); the smell of the cedar closet where my old, baby fur coats still hang.

I gotta find that Bruce Willis cassette.

I am grateful for this time I was given, in spite of the circumstances. Plus, Corey and I collected a shitload of new hashtags that mean nothing to no one but crack us the fuck up.#SMELLMYGLOVE #POSTALBINSORGTFO #GOFUCKYOURSELF #DAWNSBLOCKOFCHEESE

Life, AMIRITE?!

But on a happier note, here are some things I’ve brought home and I promise to give them many more years of life.

My Aunt Sharon was apparently really into Magnum PI in the 80s and always had this padded Tom Selleck…art piece (?) hanging on her wall. Henry found it in a closet last weekend and I was like, “I HAVE TO HAVE THIS.” I mean, c’mon. First, Chooch was like, “This is hideous.” Then, Chooch was like, “Can we hang him in my room?”

“DO YOUR FUCKING HOMEWORK OR FACE THE WRATH OF THE ‘STACH, BOY!”

I promised Henry I wouldn’t take every single clown in the house even though he so very sweetly (and smartly) said he didn’t care either way, but there are several that I do want to keep because MEM’RIES.

LIGHT THE CORNERS OF MY MIND.

(This whole thing is bringing out my inner Old Person.)

And this beaut! I’m no doll expert, but Kara put on her Creepy Doll Investigator’s Hat, jammed a cigar in her mouth, and reported back that this is a Little Miss No Name doll, and that the ones with the tears are rare!

She fits in super well in my house.

More later!

“Who is it?” Haza called out.

“Penelope’s sister, Drew,”

“Though, I’m not a bunny,” Drew added on.

“I can still be her sister,” Drew finished.

Penelope glared at Drew, begging her to tell the truth. Drew glared back, shaking her head. She understood everything Penelope does.

“So, you’re her sister, eh? Haza questioned.

“Yup!” Drew answered.

“Interesting! Get out of my ship!” Haza shoved Drew out of the ship.

“…but I’m not a human either! I’m a, um”

Drew looked around the room, but got lured over to a familiar stench.

“What do you think you’re doing? I told you to leave!” Haza screeched.

But when Haza lunged towards Drew. Haza got knocked out and got bit in the neck, green blood flew down her spine and collar bone.

“Hmm, that’s interesting! Scarlet has been an alien all along,” Garnet grinned.

An alien guard overheard Garnet and held her by the neck against the wall.

“It’s HAZA!” he corrected angrily.

“Ok geez!” Garnet calmed him down.

“By the way, my name’s Bradley the Fox,” he introduced himself.

Meanwhile, while Drew is staring at Haza’s corpse, she just remembered about the stench. She walked over to the closet and the closet popped open. Two hostages with their hands tied, fell out. Not dead, but knocked out. They had large bruises at the top of their head, and a little blood was dripping from their bruises.

“Mom, Dad?” Drew’s voice got lower, into baritone.

Her left eye twitched, her eyes became bloodshot red. Her head turned backwards and faced the aliens.

“Oh yeah! I am a crazy psychopath!” Drew remembered.

“O’ crap. It’s the crazy killer “11 o’ clock News” was talking about on Friday the 13th!” a guard lost out of his mind shouted out.

The aliens darted toward the sliding door. The door was jammed, a perfect opportunity for Drew to punish them. Penelope hopped high up onto Drew’s head giving the aliens an opportunity to escape. Bradley the fox dropped Garnet, and turned towards Drew, Penelope hopped off Drew’s head, and Bradley uncovered his buff and cracked his knuckles, but then cracked his whole body turning to have a flexibility like rubber.

“Don’t you mess with my aliens!” Bradley shouted walking closer and closer to Drew.

Having Drew Walden and Penelope Ann Killer around has definitely provided much needed entertainment. I mean, making fun of Henry is a pretty great passer of time, but even that game needs a rest now and then.

Anyway, I guess they are about 6 months old now and still acting like jerky kittens—don’t ever change, cats. Except when it comes to my succulents. PLEASE LOSE INTEREST STAT.

Here we have Drew spying on Hot Naybor Chris from Chooch’s window. Blog, did I tell you that HNC came over on Easter, shortly after we returned home from Lancaster, with two bushels of bananas for us? And then he asked me if we needed break too, and I was like, “Um…

you should ask Henry?” So then Henry came home from the store and I said, “Chris has bread that he wants to unload on us” and Henry got this huge smile on his face and cheerfully cried, “I’LL GO OUT AND FIND HIM, THANKS!” and then did this dorky “Oh, Chris” head shake. Needless to say, he came back with like 5 loaves of varying types of bread. I have no idea why or how Chris comes upon all this extraneous bread that he cannot use for himself, but it’s really good bread and not like some stale loaves he dumpster dove for or anything shady like that. Come on, HNC would never give us bunk bread.

Henry told me why/how this whole bread phenomenon came to be, but I quit listening because I can only handle so much of Henry’s informational tone.

Turns out HNC delivered to us a blessing, because the next day, I would wake up with a cold and no desire to eat anything other than a slice of one of the extra-grainy, nutty, super wholesome loaves he gifted upon us, and then also for the next 5 days following thanks to #stress and #trauma. THAT BREAD WAS ALL I HAD!

This concludes the Bread Interlude portion of this post. Thanks for LETTING ME SHARE.
  

They get along much better than Marcy and Speck ever did! I mean, they definitely love to rough house (I’m officially my dad) with each other, but LOOK AT THEM NAPPING TOGETHER!

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Legit cat naps. The cats are exhausted from a long morning of destroying anything that has any ounce of sentiment to me. And Henry is exhausted from dealing with the children he works with (ACTUALLY, NO, I AM NOT REFERRING TO CHOOCH AND MYSELF, THANKS).

Chooch posted this one on Instagram with the caption “dat ass doe” and thought he was soooooo cool.  And I was like whatever I’ve been saying that way longer than you.

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One of my friends saw this video and acted sad about the fact that my cats must be bored, because we clearly do not pay enough attention to them, I guess.  HILAR. Have you met Chooch!? Sometimes these cats are like, “PLEASE JUST PRETEND LIKE WE’RE NOT HERE. IT’S FINE. REALLY.”

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Perched on a sonic stack of 80s nostalgia.

SPEAKING OF 80s NOSTALGIA. New tangent alert!: Henry and I watched the CNN series “The Eighties” Saturday night because we’re so fucking wild; it was the episode about 80s television, and I got so fucking emotional that I honestly thought I was going to hurt myself. I miss it all so much and wish I could relive the 80s over and over because it was the best times for me.

The nineties sucked for me (early 90s especially). But the 80s. GIMME.

I even miss the way newscasters spoke back then! All robotic and dry enunciation.

Full disclosure, I’m in full-fledged Living In the Past Mode these last few weeks. It’s kind of sickening and I sort of feel like some type of creature is feeding on me from the inside. It’s just this thing with me, I guess.

Like, let me feel all of the pain I can possible stand all at once, like floating in a tub of water and electrocuting myself in increments, get it the fuck out of my system, and then I can go back to living the life of Present Day Erin. WOOOOO!

It’s like the time my friend Christy and I were hanging out one year on New Year’s Eve in high school and I had just broken up with my TRU LUV. Instead of trying to buck up and enjoy the night, I listened to the SAME FUCKING SONG* on repeat until Christy was like, “Stop before I leave and then you have even less friends!!”

*(THIS LOVE IS FOREVER BY HOWARD HEWETT. OMG OW.)

BONUS CAT: This stray has been lurking around my Pappap’s house (because my aunt had clearly been feeding her), so every time I go over—i.e. everyday because this is my new life—I have to first run around calling out, “HERE KITTY KITTY” and then when she emerges from the shrubs and gives me that ice-cold glare, I psychotically whisper, “I love you.” It’s like the ghost of Marcy boring into my soul.

If I get too close to her, she’ll scurry off, but then she’ll stop and toss me this irritated look over her shoulder, like, “Are you coming or what?” SHE IS LIKE MY OWN PERSONAL WHITE RABBIT, YOU GUYS. I think she might be trying to lure me into a ditch though.

Henry said I can 100% not bring her home. :(