Leaving work on Friday, I could barely contain myself inside the elevator. My co-worker Mitch was kind of side-eying me so I blurted out: I’M GOING TO SEE CARLY RAE JEPSEN TONIGHT!!!”

Pregnant pause.

“Wow,” Mitch laughed. “Was not expecting that!”

Even though I like a wide array of music, and am constantly dipping in and out of genres and decades, I don’t think it’s a surprise that most people likely associate me with heavier, “screamy” bands. And that’s fine, because I love that stuff. But I’m not one of those music snobs who thimbs her nose Top 40. (Although there are several artists, and I use that title very loosely, who I really honestly can’t stand and truly believe are ruining the face of pop music. COUGHMEGHANTRAINORCOUGH)

I have always unabashedly loved Britney Spears and have supported Lady Gaga from the beginning. I don’t even hate Justin Bieber. ANS I LOVE THAT FUCKING CAKE BY THE OCEAN SONG, OK??

However, pop music doesn’t usually tug on my heartstrings like my main bands do. It’s just something nice to listen to every now and then when I just need something on in the background.

And then came CRJ.

You guys. I wish I could put my finger on what it is about her that turns my heart into a clump of sweet sweet gummi bears.  Particularly her most recent album which I’m sorry to tell you, it is a motherfucking pop masterpiece. It makes me feel like I have roller skaters right the fuck back into my charmed childhood, before everything got shitty, when all that mattered was puffy-painted sweatshirts and side-ponies. She makes me feel pure, unadulterated happiness, and that right there brings real, genuine tears to my eyes.

You can make fun of me all you want. Constantly remind me that you “don’t get it.” Smirk at my excitement. I don’t really give a fuck. She’s not my guilty pleasure, because I feel zero ounces of guilt when I listen to her music. She is my PROUD pleasure.

Interestingly, she has some major crossover appeal with others in my scene. Anytime there is a news post about her on Absolute Punk, the fan-girling is strong. She is a breath of fresh maple-scented air in a pop scene over-saturated with twerking and vulgar schticks and sexually explicit lyrics that you pray your nine-year-old doesn’t understand.

She is wholesome without being lame or cheesy.

She is a goddamn Canadian princess.

And I couldn’t get to Mr. Smalls fast enough!

Chooch and I have had our tickets since the moment they went on sale. I had a feeling it would sell out since Mr. Smalls isn’t very big, and it did.

After feeding us, Henry dropped Chooch and me off down the street so no one would see us getting out of Daddy’s car. We had about 20 minutes to kill before the doors opened, but the line kept growing so even though I was shivering in my too-light jacket, I was glad I didn’t have Henry drive around the block one more time.

Originally, I figured Chooch and I would snag a spot in the back, right where the bar is separated from the main floor, so that GOD FORBID Chooch could sit down on the floor between bands since his limbs are SO WEAK from being A NINE-YEAR-OLD. But then I saw that there was some prime real estate along the front of the stage, but over to the side a bit, so I dragged him over to there and at first he was like, “WHAT WHY” but then he saw that at least he could lean against the stage to take some of the weight off his WEARY BONES.

For fuck’s sake, Chooch.

We made small-talk with the burly security guy who was guarding the emergency exit/staff only door which leads back stage. Apparently, I was the cut-off for that side of the stage, because when some broad came over later and leaned past me to look toward the center of the stage, the guy was like, “You can’t stand there.” She explained that she was trying to see her two daughters that she left alone in front of the stage and he was like, “UNLESS YOU’RE GONNA BE WORKING HERE, MOVE.” Yeah boy!

Before the show even started, Chooch went to the bathroom twice. He’s obsessed with public restrooms. The first time was legit, he honestly had to pee, but the second time was because his gum made him sick and he supposedly went to the bathroom to puke.

Guys, I don’t know how much truth there is to this. Mostly because I tell Henry all the time that I was “SO SICK THAT I PUKED” and 99.99999% of the time, this might be a slight exaggeration.

Fairground Saints started promptly at 7:10. I would have guessed they were from Nashville—two guys, a girl, three acoustic guitars, and an alt-twang sound. They were pleasant-sounding, and the girl had one hell of a fucking voice, but it wasn’t really my thing. Chooch loved them because they covered Justin Bieber and he was so relieved that he had enough battery life left on his phone to get a video of it.

He’s clearly my kid.

The second band was Cardiknox and I definitely liked them a lot more because SYNTH. I love most anything involving synth. And the singer, Chooch’s new lady love, was really entertaining and high energy. She kept singling out one of the guys standing near us and it was adorable.

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

I thought Chooch for sure would have liked Cardiknox more but he was blinded by his love of Fairground Saints, especially after they not only liked his Instavid, but also went back and liked a picture of his cat, Drew. They have his heart now, probably forever.

Also, Chooch was starting to get super ornery by this point because it was getting more crowded and he claims the guy next to him kept pushing him into the stage but I was standing right there and I swear to god this never happened. That guy and his girlfriend were pretty mindful of the fact that a kid was standing behind them, and the girlfriend even slapped her hand over her mouth when she said “fuck,” and I was just like, “Please, if you knew the words that came out of this child’s mouth, you’d blush.”

Sometime during Cardiknox, two younger girls (they were definitely under 21 based on the Xs on their hands, and at first I thought they were middle-school aged but then I found them on Instagram afterward (NOT INTENTIONALLY! They came up when I was perusing the #gimmielovetour hashtag the next day) so now I guess they might be around 17 or 18…either way, the one girl who was right behind—I guess the security dude made a concession for her–and she was SO FUCKING IDIOTIC. Like, I get it — we’re all excited. We’re all screaming. I was screaming my fucking face off. But her scream was RIDICULOUS. Like one step down from a dog whistle. And right against my skull.

Then she would do these death metal growls and I kept slowly turning around to get a glimpse of her because for a while, I honestly couldn’t figure out exactly what was behind me.

Other than that, though, the show was AMAZE. When CRJ came out, I shed actual tears and started pushing Chooch excitedly. He was really excited too and had his phone out, ready to record her entrance.

She came out and immediately started singing “Run Away With Me” which is one of my favorites and oh, if only she had been performing at a roller rink — that’s the only way the night could have been any better. She sounded amazing, you guys, and she was such a joy to watch that I don’t think my eyes were dry for even a second of that show.

I’ve never really fan-girled over a pop star before, so this was new territory for me. But I was right there with all of the teen girls and gay guys, shrieking and thrusting out my arm in hopes that my fingers could even just slightly graze CRJ, even if it was just the sleeve of her shirt. AT LEAST IT WOULD BE SOMETHING. And also proof that she’s not a holograph.

BAE!

During “Tonight I’m Getting Over You,” I noticed that she had tears streaming down her face, and she continued silently crying for the next two songs. It was extremely intimate and touching so then this made me cry even harder because crying is like yawning for me: if I see someone crying in real life, I will start crying too without being able to stop it. IT’S MY BIGGEST CHARACTER FLAW. Seriously, it’s hard to maintain my misanthropic asshole persona when I’m fucking crying all of the time, ugh.

I’m crying again.

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There were grown men who looked dangerously close to flinging themselves off the balcony in sheer ecstasy during “Call Me Maybe.”

Chooch and I were desperate to get her to touch us! Before the show started, one of the stage guys came over and told the people next to us that they had to move their stuff off the stage. We were like, right on the side, where the stage winged out a little, and he said, “Carly walks out here and I don’t want her to slip.”

So of course we were all like OMG SHE’S GOING TO WALK OVER HERE AND BE STANDING LITERALLY RIGHT IN FRONT OF US?!?!

But that guy was a goddamn shit-sucking liar because she never came over that far. She never got any further than the guys who were two heads down from us, we were SO CLOSE yet SO FAR AWAY. But I swear to god there were multiple times when she came over and smiled RIGHT AT me and Chooch. Right at our dumb idiot faces.

I was goo. A pathetic wad of goo.

Meanwhile, Screamy behind me kept death-growling, “I LOVE YOU” which ricocheted off the back of my head, along with her phone which she kept shoving past my face in order to record CRJ’s every last movement. I mean, OK—so was I, but I had my phone at chest level so it wasn’t blocking anyone’s view!

That girl was seriously the only blemish on the whole entire night. Not even Chooch’s supposed “mental breakdown” toward the end of the show managed to put a damper on my spirits. (He was oddly preoccupied with the fact that he had a knot in his shoelace and it wasn’t until he finally untied it on the sidewalk after the show that he was finally able to exhale and go back to being normal. It’s always something with him.)

After the show, we went straight to the merch booth so I could buy a shirt and my record-snob son wanted E.MO.TION on vinyl. I’ve created a monster. It was after 11 by the time we made it outside of Mr. Smalls, and we were originally just going to leave, but then a group of older men started talking to us, asking Chooch if he got his record signed, etc. We said no, and they pointed out that there was a line forming outside of CRJ’s bus, which pretty much ended right where we were standing. It didn’t seem very long, and even though there was no guarantee that she would come out, I told Chooch I would absolutely die if I missed a chance to meet her. He wasn’t very pleased because he was cold and cranky and I like CRJ more than he does (seriously, if this was Christofer Drew’s bus, though…). I think he was also getting pissed that these guys kept talking to us while waiting for their Uber. The one man told us that he had literally flown in just for the show last minute and got there right as she started singing the second song. Then he showed us pictures of his twin grandkids and Chooch was like, “OK WOW GR8 BYE” but I thought these guys were very nice and I appreciated their flamboyance. It was a refreshing change from the usual too cool for school crowd I usually find myself immersed in at shows.

After about 20 minutes, Chooch pointed out that people at the front of the line were taking pictures. I asked the tall guy behind me if Carly was out of her bus and he said, “Yep, she’s up there now” and I started fucking sweating and hyperventilating.

The line moved up quickly and smoothly; everyone was very respectful of her time and space, no one asked for more than they were entitled, and she wasn’t straight-up mobbed. There apparently was already a VIP meet-and-greet before the show, so she totally didn’t have to be available for us, but she still came out and that made me evict a few people from my heart so she could have some cozier real estate.

By the time it was our turn, I was a nervous wreck and thoroughly coated her with my word-vomit.

“OMG I JUST LOVE YOU YOU WERE SO GREAT TONIGHT I CRIED SO MUCH!!!” and she just smiled graciously and said “Thank you” after each of my psycho declarations. Then Chooch very calmly and nonchalantly asked, “Can you sign my record?” like it wasn’t CARLY RAE JEPSEN standing before us all petite and perfect with her little hat on and OMG I WAS STANDING NEXT TO CARLY RAE JEPSEN ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME SHE WAS JUST IN THE LIVE TV PRODUCTION OF GREASE SINGING WITH BOYZ II MEN!??!?!

I really hate having my picture taken but there was no way I was missing this chance, because who knows if it will ever happen again, so I whispered, “Will you take a picture with us…?” and she was all, “Sure!” and I gave my phone to the tall guy behind us and only vaguely remember CRJ draping her arm over my shoulder because I was pretty much experiencing a blinding out-of-body moment and by the time we found Henry and scrambled into the car, my hands were shaking so bad that I almost dropped my phone while trying to show him our picture and he just mumbled, “You’re sad,” but then he was trying not to smile so I think on the inside he was like, “Holy shit my kids met CRJ!”

Not to be That Person, but I really did lose my fucking shit when she sang “Call Me Maybe.” I am overcome with beautiful memories and happy feelings every single time I hear this song. I’m reminded of the Summer Olympics, extreme laughing fits, ROSS’S BLACKBERRY…it’s just pure, unadulterated summer joy. So, try to belittle me for liking a “one hit wonder,” but it won’t work. My love for CRJ is real and I’ll own it forever. No shame, no guilt, no regrets.

It’s really hard to resist the urge to plaster my blog with cat pictures all the livelong day. I think I was doing too good of a job though, because the lady we got the cats from sent me a Facebook message a few weeks ago and was like, “Um, are the kitties still doing well….?”

They really are doing well! My succulents, on the other hand…Panne is on his last leg and they pretty much brutally murdered Agnes. (They’re not like, eating them…just digging them up, knocking them over, having absolutely no REGARD FOR MY GREEN BEAUTIES WHATSOEVER.) I had a full-fledged temper tantrum about this last week while Henry and Chooch JUST SAT THERE DOING NOTHING.

Evonne brought them some Cat Sip over the weekend and they somehow found the will to share with each other.

Penelope is the smaller one, but she’s definitely the instigator. She also loves to bite and it’s so annoying!

This picture sucks because Henry took it on his lame Henry-phone. This is actually the box that Penelope was transported in. Drew was in there first and Penelope pushed her way in because SISTERS.  That look is almost on Penelope’s face. So smug!

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It looks like Drew is the boss, but this just isn’t true. (Sorry, Chooch! Your cat’s kind of dumb.)

This morning, I woke up to what sounded like a dump truck full of cinder blocks crashing into things downstairs. “Don’t wanna know,” I mumbled, and fell back asleep.

Cats, man.

Friends and foes, welcome to the quarterly collection of RIP Glenns. My last RIP Glenn dump was back in September, because I’m a slacker. I try to be diligent with the celebrity deaths, but sometimes some fly under the radar or maybe I just determine that they’re too obscure/plain to deface a Glenn. If there’s someone who you feel I sorely dropped the ball on and are desperate to see a Glenn made in their honor, please let me know and I will do my best!

It seems like there’s at least one big horror icon in every round of RIP Glenns. :(  Marilyn Burns died in 2014 so now Leatherface is chasing her around again in…Heaven? Probably not Heaven. Seriously though, look at how effortlessly Glenn transforms into Leatherface.

I woke up one morning and noticed that one of my friends had posted a video from the 2001 Rolling Rock Town Fair. I thought it was just a random thing, and I commented that  hey!

I was at that show too.  And then right after that, another friend posted on my timeline about the same thing, the time we were at this one particular show, and I was like, “Huh. That’s a weird coincidence…” Then it occurred to me that it was because Stone Temple Pilots had headlined that festival….and Scott Weiland had been reported dead that morning….

…and from there, Lemmy. What a start to 2016.

Learned about Bowie’s death from someone I hate-follow on Instagram. It’s such a dumb habit but the first thing I do every morning after I turn off my alarm is mindlessly open Instagram. My life is so rich.

So many iconic faces of Bowie but I went for Ziggy Stardust. Still seems so unreal!

AND THEN GLENN FREY? My first instinct was not to listen to the Eagles, but his solo jam “You Belong to the City.” I used to make Lisa so mad in high school because I insisted he was saying “boobs” instead of “moves” in one of the lines and Lisa would shout, “MOVES. MOVES!” Lol forever.

I’m listening to it right now, and have a strong urge to watch Miami Vice.

ITS IN YOUR BOOBS

ITS IN YOUR BLOOD

YOURE A MAN OF THE STREET

He seemed like a real dick though, didn’t he?

I love that I didn’t have to do a single thing to Glenn’s plain face and this one is still recognizable.

I had Punky Brewster high tops when I was a kid. Man, she was such a cooler role model than all these gross Miley Cyrus fembots girls idolize nowadays.

Sorry George Gaynes. I really have nothing else to say about you. Thanks for taking  care of Punky…

?

I’m going to be 100% honest here, I thought he was already dead….?! I bet that Mayberry tourist trap we visited over the summer was poppin’ off when this death occurred.

OMG the day Harper Lee died, I had posted a different RIP Glenn because I was trying to get caught up and people were like “WHAT ABOUT HARPER LEE!” and I was like, “FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, GIVE ME A SECOND, FUCK!!!” People are hungry for the RIP Glenns, and I love it.

What a strange thing to be the subject of so many death hoaxes that an actual death watch website is made for you. Much like Don Knotts, when Abe Vigoda legitimately passed away this year, I was like, “Wait….didn’t that happen in the 90s? And then he came back for Good Burger? And then died again?” I’m so confused.

But what I really miss are the “This is your brain on drugs” commercials with the sizzling egg in a frying pan.

Man, this one hurt. I know he had a long and storied career full of brilliant character portrayals, but I gotta be That Guy and go with Snape. What an icon.

Crazy fact about me: I don’t really care about the Beatles one way or another. I don’t hate them, I don’t love them, I won’t turn the station if they come on the radio, but I don’t own any of their albums. I know. I’m a fucking monster.

Man, sorry Angus — he had the worst timing possible for giving up the ghost because it was right smack in the middle of the whole world shutting down in remembrance of David Bowie. And then I forgot to make his RIP Glenn until YESTERDAY. Amber1 said she didn’t know who he was, and I told her that the horror movie Phantasm was really the only thing I knew about him. “He was one of those actors who made a living on the horror convention circuit,” I said.

“Oh, kind of like Andy from Child’s Play,” Amber1 said.

“Yeah—-hey!” I cried, when I realized that she was making light of my BOYFRIEND ANDY FROM CHILD’S PLAY. And then we all laughed.

“I, the great commander, Haza, will run this ship! My friends may know me as Scarlet. They left me behind,” “Haza” announced.

“They locked me in a locker, then Izuqi found me and we fell in love.”

“Anyways, they left me in there and didn’t take care of me,”

“Weirdo,” Garnet whispered.

“Silence! Or I’ll execute you!” Haza threatened.

Aliens gasped.

“Geez!” Garnet added.

“Alright! Take her to the chamber!” Haza screamed.

“Goed, baaws,” the guard answered.

“What!?” Garnet sighed.

“We’ll make it a slow, painful death for talking again!” Haza demanded

*Boom!* A big loud bang exploded outside. Penelope peeked. It was blank. No leaves, no building, no… ANYTHING! A nuke dropped!

“OH… MY… GOD!” Pearl gasped.

“Ons het voorberei!” The guard announced.

“He said “We came prepared”,” Haza translated.

Pearl saw a flyer for Warped Tour and gave it to the guard.

“Wat is hierdie?” He questioned.

*Neigh! Neigh!*

“I’m a Unicorn!” a PINK voice called out.

Pearl looked outside and face-palmed.

“It’s Yuki. She’s being too kawaii!” Pearl looked away.

“Notice me senpai!” Yuki announced.

“Anyways. Execute Garnet!” Haza demanded.

Garnet started to cry. She turned into a psychopath. She kicked the guards in the shin, and ankle. She turned her head at Haza, and plummeted at her.

“Get off of me!” Haza cried.

“Ja afklim van haar!” the guard defended Haza.

“By the way his name is Owadu,” Haza stated.

“Ja!” Owadu nodded.

Pearl looked at her chest, and looked back up. She frowned at Haza. She pulled out a balloon, took a needle, and popped it.

*Bam*!

“What the heck!” Haza judged.

“I want to say a speech,” Pearl stated.

“Go ahead!” Haza welcomed.

“Well…”

“Okay you’re done. Nice speech!” Haza clapped.

“Hey be nice to her she’s your friend!” Amethyst punched her fist.

“She WAS my friend,” Haza stated.

“Can I join the fight?”

As opposed to Sunday, when we ate each others’ bitter words and empty threats because welcome to the cuckoo house!

I mean, anyway.

Pictures of ice cream cones from Millie’s kept popping up in my Instagram feed last week, because they were having a grand opening. I decided that it was imperative we go and get some on Saturday because we’re whores for ice cream and god forbid we’re left in the dust. It turns out that Millie’s is in the old space Oh Yeah! used to be, which is kind of funny since it was only a few weeks ago when Chooch and I did a drive-by and saw that something new was moving in there.

The menu is not very extensive, but it’s all homemade and I heard one of the ladies there telling a customer that they only thing that’s not locally sourced is the almond extract that they use to make their waffle cones. So if you’re into that type of thing, Millie’s is the place for you.

I think that’s great, I guess, but all I really care about is one thing: UNUSUAL FLAVORS. And they definitely had a few. I went with one scoop of fig because figs are my spirit fruit; and also a scoop of the sweet ricotta, which was littered with pistachios and cherries. You guys, it was so dreamy.

Chooch really lived large and got one scoop of vanilla and a scoop of chocolate. Slow down, Chooch. Your palate’s getting a little too mature there.

And Henry got a scoop of the spiced rum banana in a bowl even though I tried to coax him into the orange marmalade poppy seed. NO ONE LISTENS TO ME ANYMORE.

Henry forced me into letting him taste the ricotta and he liked it so much that he had to go up and get a scoop for himself. I was unreasonably irritated about that. I guess because my #FOREVERFAT stigma would never allow me to go up for seconds at an ice cream shop!

UGHHHH!!!!!

Meanwhile, Chooch and I had a huge argument on the way home because I casually mentioned that I thought the little dab of marshmallow at the bottom of the waffle cone was a nice touch, and Chooch spat, “There wasn’t any marshmallow in that cone!” And then Henry was all, “It was probably just ice cream” and I said, “OH OK, DRY AND STICKY ICE CREAM?!” and then it was a big fight by this point.

Later that evening, I found THIS:

I WIN, MOTHERFUCKERS.

I’ll definitely go back to Millie’s (sooner rather than later) but I won’t pretend like I don’t miss the weird vibes and one-way window on the bathroom door of Oh Yeah. It’s going to be hard for any ice cream shop to usurp the empty spot they left in my heart. Ugh, that place may have been sorely mismanaged, but their add-ins were ON POINT. And their interior had way more personality than Millie’s, which is your typical, unoriginal bright-lights and candy-colored stripes.

Click that Weekend Picturepalooza thing down there for some Oh Yeah memories….(BONUS: there are also pictures of Marcy on this old blog post!)

Weekend Picturepalooza

To counteract the afternoon ice cream splurge, Henry made me this delightful plate of color for dinner, featuring his SEXUAL SALAD DRESSING!

Usually Henry ladles me plates of browns and beiges so this was a nice change.

LAST BUT NOT LEAST, Chooch got some kind of rare baking bug up his ass and hounded Henry all day to let him bake something. Henry found a recipe for sopapilla cheesecake squares that seemed safe enough for a nine-year-old to follow, and if you didn’t already know this about my child, he LOVES sopapillas. Like, I could probably slide a sopapilla under his door on his birthday and do nothing else, and he would probably be happy.

LOL, OK let’s not  get carried away.

It was actually quite delightful. Henry said that Chooch very competently did most of the baking, and that Henry really only handled the oven part. I’m impressed! I would have quit before Henry had all the ingredients all lined up. One of my friends commented on Facebook about how at least now they know I won’t starve when I’m old and this is a really good part. Stay in the kitchen, son.

In other news, I just did some hip hop tabata workout that I found on YouTube and for the last three minutes I thought there was an alarm going off somewhere in the house but it turns out that’s just the ringing in my ears.

That might be the ice cream alarm.

On Friday, we went to the Mr. Smalls Theatre for Carly Rae Jepsen’s Gimmie Love tour. So First, when we got in line and waited, mommy complained it was freezing. She had a coat on and I had a T-Shirt on, I didn’t complain. When it was finally 7:30, the doors opened and we got to go in.  The first band was Fairground Saints. They played “Love Yourself” by Justin Bieber. They’re kind of country singers. They do covers mostly. But the songs they did at the concert was mostly their songs.

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My Instagram is butt_jam, if you didn’t already know. You would see this video on my Instagram. It’s a video of them singing “Love Yourself” by JB. I also have many more videos on Instagram.

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Such as this one: Carly Rae singing “Run Away With Me”. It was epic and could cause seizure, so warning if you are able to get seizures by strobe light don’t watch. 8-) While she was playing, I had many problems, such as: Being claustrophobic was one. This guy behind me had so much room but he chose to push me into the stage, I had about a foot of room. I threw up, because I chewed too much gum. My phone was at 1% and I couldn’t record anything or else my phone would die. There was a knot in my shoe and it bothered me. I hate everything!

At the end of the concert, we went to the merch table and I got a record, mommy got a shirt. We left and outside there was a line at the side of Carly’s tour bus. We waited and waited. During our wait we met a lot of gay guys.  This one guy was so nice he showed mommy a picture of his grandkids. I tried to get the knot out of my shoe and it worked, all of a sudden I felt better.

When Carly came out of her tour bus, nobody screamed. I told mommy she came out, but she said everyone would’ve screamed. But I said people were taking pictures. She said they were probably taking pictures of each other. Then mommy heard Carly’s vice and got excited. We got up to the front and I got my record signed and got a picture. Mommy almost cried and fainted but I was calm. Carly was really nice. Daddy parked righted in front of her tour bus so when we got our picture, we walked to the car and left.

As you can see, I had a lot of fun. The concert was good, Carly has a good voice, and Fairground Saints is very good as well.

Lazy Saturday up in here. Chooch and I went to see Carly Rae Jepsen last night and were out way too late; I don’t know how I was able to sleep last night! Anyway, once I’m done buzzing about that I’ll write some sort of ALL CAPITAL LETTER review, I’m sure.

Then my friend Evonne stopped by with a dozen of FARM FRESH EGGS, a lemon, a lime, and some Cat Sip for the kittens. Thanks, Evonne!

I’m using my blog as a diversion because the Penguins are playing the Flyers and my nerves are shot and I’m trying not to look at the TV for fear of vomiting. So, here are some pictures.
Fucking DREW killed more of my succulents and I have nowhere else to move them! RIP Agnes. Maybe you’ll miraculously grow back.

Perhaps if I hadn’t given my plants names and personalities, it would hurt me less when they’re murdered. :(

 Pre-CRJ dinner date at Grant’s. Henry and I split a piece of their coconut cream pie (THE BEST IN THE WORLD) because I was already feeling sick (butterflies!) but now I wish I could go back in time and just eat the entire pie. Slices are pointless.

Also, I feel blessed that this quality joint is within walking distance of Mr. Small’s.  
This is my favorite building downtown Pittsburgh. Look at the design on that facade! My friend Chris found out for me that this is the BUHL BUILDING and I have to remember to google that sometime soon because once every 11 years, I allow myself to learn a thing about my city.

 POSTCARDS! I think I have mailed 7 so far so check yo’ mailboxes! If you get one, tag it on Instagram: #greetingsfromerinslunchbreak

Lol I have no idea what sort of meaningless movement I’m tying to start here but please just let me my fun. I’ll lose interest soon, I’m sure! 

I found this old picture on Flickr the other day and it made me laugh because Chooch still makes the same expression when I want him to take a picture with me.  

The other succulent killer, Penelope. SHE’S LUCKY SHE’S SO CUTE.

The Penguins are winning 4-1 with a minute left so I think I’m safe to look up now. SEE YA, MY LITTLE CHIA PETS.

Chooch gave me back my blog for a second so here’s a quick post before he takes over again with his STORY THAT HAS NO END IN SIGHT. Just kidding, Chooch. Keep writing, bro. I mean, son.

• HENRY’S SALAD DRESSING: Don’t be gross, this isn’t a euphemism for Henry’s sperm bank donation. Literally, he makes the best dressing for my basic white girl kale that I have ever had. It’s probably best that I don’t know all of the details, but he definitely uses balsamic vinegar, stone ground mustard (the BEST kind of ground, in my opinion), and I think a tiny bit of PURE MAPLE SYRUP which gives it the most subtle sweetness and oh my god, why am I at work right now when I could be at home licking that salad semen off my fingertips, ugh.
• PEOPLE GIVING ME CHEEZITS: I helped Todd with a support-type question today and he gave me the rest of his box of Cheezits as a thank you and my response was a very Shirley Temple-ish, “REALLY? For ME?” I can’t believe I used to hate Cheezits when I was a kid. Maybe they weren’t made with “100% Real Cheese” back then.
  • And then Glenn dropped a pack of fruit snacks on my desk as he was leaving – I FEEL SO RICH.
• PEOPLE BEING NICE TO ME: I went to The Exchange on my lunch break yesterday and all the neo-hipster kids working there were very nice to me, so for a few minutes, I was able to coexist peacefully with those whom I do not understand.
  • Probably only nice to me because aw, look at this old broad coming in here to probably look for Carpenters 8-tracks.
    • Actually, I was there to finally buy the latest CHVRCHES record.
      • On vinyl, not 8-track.
  • Then I went to the Pittsburgh Welcome Center to get postcards and the lady there was nice to me too, and the lucky recipient of my very first GREETINGS FROM ERIN’S LUNCH BREAK post card will get to read all about that.
• A BAND FINALLY ISSUING AN ACCEPTABLE AND APPLAUDABLE STATEMENT REGARDING SEXUAL ASSAULT: Ricky from Foxing came forward and cleared the air regarding an incident that occurred several years ago when he was 17 and nowhere in his statement did he make excuses for himself or victim blame, and the band is donating part of their tour earnings to RAINN and expressed an interest in opening up a healthy and respectful discussion about these issues. This came right on the heels of the singer of Better Off doing the complete opposite and completely letting down the scene and likely ruining his career on top of that.
  • Bled Fest has removed Better Off from the lineup. They were one of the bands I was most looking forward to see but certainly not anymore.
• REALIZING MY PURPOSE IN LIFE: So for years I thought this was either manure packaging or starting my own record label but it is now clear to me that I need to start a DIY venue for the small, real small, small-small bands that book their shows basically in the basements of college rape sheds. So I suggested to Henry that we find a small building to soundproof, just has to be in a not-too-horrible area, and then we can be all, “Hey little sad boy emo bands, fuck that basement noise, come play at our venue, it’ll be ready once we evict the squatters” and then Kaitlin can set up a table of her immaculate desserts and all the kids will be like “OMG AND A BAKE SALE TOO?? THIS IS SO DIY!” Henry actually considered this and said, “We just need money to buy a building” which is basically his way of saying “This will never work because we never have money” BUT he didn’t exactly dismiss my passionate idea either. Then Chooch came downstairs and was all “this sounds dumb.” I tried to get him excited by including him. “You can pass out flyers at school and be all come to this show at my mom’s venue, yo” and Chooch said, “No. It’s my venue.”
• NEW SAOSIN SONG!: For the first time in seven years, Saosin has recorded a new song, and not only that, but Anthony Green is back as their singer! Christina and I loved this band back in the day, and they were my gateway into many years of loving and obsessing over Circa Survive. (Anthony was the original singer of Saosin and left to start Circa Survive in…2004 I think; too lazy to fact check.) This is great because when they reunited in 2014, Anthony mentioned at Riot Fest that they were going to work on new songs, but then it seemed to kind of fizzle out. BUT WHAT DO I KNOW ABOUT WRITING SONGS.

And here’s a quick Law Firm news recap:

–GAYLE moved into a dark hallway so then MEAN AMBER took GAYLE’S old desk which means she’s like really far away from me now so I’ve been pouting about that all week. Now she sits behind Amber¹ so this is super confusing. TWO AMBERS IN A ROW. Currently, they’re back there chatting about BLAKE SHELTON and I’m just like, “Whatever, AMBER² THE BETRAYER. One day you’ll miss our chats about DANCE GAVIN DANCE and JONNY CRAIG.”

–Amber¹ made me tell the infamous Henry at the Ted Nugent Show story on Tuesday, and Todd was like, “Who the hell is Ted Nugent?” so then he started to listen to Cat Scratch Fever and we all had a good laugh. I came home and told Henry and he was just like, “Oh, you told that fake story again? That’s great, Erin.”

–The second issue of the ‘zine was dead in the water for a few weeks (more like OVER A MONTH) but I finally rounded up most of the key pieces I was waiting on so hopefully that will be printed and distributed sometime before the end of the month. This is hard work! And I’ve had some real pressure put on me about it too. Jeez. And then Gayle was giving me all of these suggestions and it was like, you know what Gayle? START YOUR OWN ‘ZINE!

–I sent Todd a video of Citizen playing at Bled Fest and then he started watching other videos and accidentally became obsessed with some hardcore band. Every day, he’s like, “What was the name of that band again?” and I’m like, “I don’t know…” and he’ll say, “Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to watch that video again so I can see their name.” Like, what a flimsy excuse!

–Just now, Glenn got all embarrassed and/or furious that I told Michele he likes Meghan Trainor. “Oh yeah, I just love her” he said sarcastically, and I was like, “Then why did you always listen to ‘All About That Bass’?!” and he was like, “ALWAYS. Oh, OK! I ALWAYS listened to it” and I was like, “OMG yes you did, like every day at the same time, Amber2 and I could always hear it! It was like your Getting Ready to Go Home anthem” and he was muttered something about me being crazy and then left for lunch. It’s 100% true though. And now I can’t stop laughing and I just started choking on a Cheezit.

–Lauren sits in front of me now, in Amber the Abandoner’s old desk, and I wonder how annoyed she is having to hear all of my dumb stories being recited sporadically throughout the day.

Oh boy and here’s a bonus photo of me wearing a Bailey’s hat one time way too long ago, in honor of St. Patrick’s Day, even though I don’t CELEBRATE ST. PATRICK’S DAY.

UPDATE!!! Glenn just came back from lunch and I asked him how the weather is on a scale from 1 to Meghan Trainor. His answer was that I’m smoking crack. And then a few minutes later he called me a psycho.  God, today rules!

The lord stared down at his guard and grew with anger and disgusted.

“You will pay you hooman!” he shouted at Yuki.

Penelope hopped around the dead alien, and licked the blood of the ground.

“Ew Penelope!” Garnet and Amethyst whispered.

“Huh? Who’s there?” the lord overheard Garnet and Amethyst whisper.

Garnet and Amethyst zipped their mouths shut as they stared at the lord.

He looked around the building, he couldn’t see them anywhere. Yuki ran off, the lord’s scared of Penelope, and Pearl was taken away.

Pearl got shoved into the U.F.O with a rope tied around her hands.

“Bloop Brz Brlp,” conversations echoed around the U.F.O.

“What is this place?” Pearl thought.

The aliens were stupid because they didn’t lock her up in a cage or cell. She figured out a way to escape. She luckily had a nail file in her bag. She pulled it out, and went over in a closet. She took it and sliced the thin rope off of her wrists. Her father knew martial arts and he taught Pearl a little bit of the moves: Dropkick, that’s it she forgot most of the others. She freed herself from the rope tied around her wrists and climbed up the ladder behind her. She used the only move she knew on a alien guard. The alien guard collapsed. He had a baton in his left sleeve just in case. She took it.

“Why don’t I just escape, these aliens are dumb anyway,” Pearl whispered to her chest.

Garnet was walking up behind the lord and punched him. His skull felt as hard as metal.

Before she could even recover from the cracked knuckle, she was being carried up the ladder.

“Garnet no! Don’t go,” Amethyst cried.

She was being carried up the ladder too the minute she said that. Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl were trapped in the U.F.O together. Garnet injured, Amethyst scared, and Pearl feeling strong.

*Slam* the door swung open.

“I got an order for you” another “alien?” sounded in.

 Alternately titled: Another Dumb Idea!
Last week when I was meandering about town during my lunch break, I kept pausing to either tweet or text Henry about all the perils in my path. You know, like Planned Parenthood protestors, city school kids, an errant paper bag skipping across the pavement. (I COULD TRIP!)

And it made me think about how much more fun it would be to SEND A POSTCARD instead of these electronic means of communication. Like my lunch break is a vacation and oh motherfucker, do I wish you were here. 

Perks: 

-snail mail is never a bad thing and gives the mailman something to read other than Pennysavers and campaign mailings. 

-I love handwriting things and it will give me something other than my name to scribble over and over again at my desk. And let’s be real, I don’t have the time/attention span to write full blown letters. 

-I’ll have something to give Last Mail!

-WHAT A PERSONAL WAY TO STAY IN TOUCH!

If I have your address, don’t be surprised if you get some weird sketch of the Stalker of the Day (I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY’S WATCHING MEEEE) or a poem about the trash in the river. 

And if I don’t have your address and you want to get a random post card, email me! Butgavincantdance@gmail.com

I’ll probably also send them to random addresses as well because that’s not creepy it’s sweet. 

I’d like to send one a day and I’ll start as soon as Henrh buys me stamps, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. #HenryProblems

And if you wanna send one back from your own lunch break, PLEASE DO! Postcard frenzy!!

“Well, WHAT?!” Pearl cried worried.

“She’s not breathing,” Garnet sighed.

Pearl’s eyes grew red and tears flowed down her face. *Beep Boop* A sound approached the creepy hospital.

“Vrob Br Pls,” a weird noise came into the hospital.

“I think there are aliens here!” Pearl cried with tears still flowing down their face.

They peered over at Yuki as she banged her head off the wall.

“Should we leave her?” Garnet asked.

Pearl and Amethyst nodded together.

*Whoosh*  the door slammed open upstairs. *Boom* the creature or thing fell to the ground.

“Should we hide?” Garnet questioned.

“Yeah,” Pearl and Amethyst agreed together.

Garnet walked over into a closet and set Scarlet down. She then ran behind an office desk and hid under. Pearl ran over to a ladder and climbed it. When she reached the top she found the exit. She saw a grey round ship with handles at the bottom. She felt something in her pocket. She reached in and grabbed a walkie-talkie. She turned it on and talked.

“Garnet, Amethyst. I think I know what’s happening. I climbed a ladder and I got up to the main floor. I see a green, skinny, black-eyed figure staring at me!”

“Okay, we’ll check it out,” Garnet said into the walkie-talkie.

Pearl climbed back down and there was another green figure staring at her.

“Arrest her! This hooman has found our secret! Execute her!” The “ALIEN?” shouted to his guards.

One of the guards had like 7 layers of steel armor. The other had a vest on.

“All I wanted was to give Penelope some orange jellybeans. God!” Amethyst thought herself.

“There’s more of them I can smell them!” the Alien Lord shouted.

He walked over to the closet. Scarlet fell out and hit her skull off the floor. She started to breathe. Thank god!

“Told you! There’s more of them! Find them all!” the lord bragged.

He looked over at Penelope and Yuki.

“Capture that beast and hooman, NOW!

” he demanded.

Penelope hopped around and dodged the rope and cuffs. Yuki had tantrum and hit the guard. The guard fell, cracked his green skull open on the asphalt ground. The blood was green. It was everywhere.

Tons of highs and lows this weekend. What else is new. My manic-depressive life, woo. Things are winding down. It’s raining and the sound is calming. But then Chooch comes barreling into the room and my nerves are poppin’ off again.  Ah, such Sunday.   

My favorite part of Saturday was when Chooch strode into my room while Xiu Xiu’s “I Love the Valley Oh!” was playing, and without skipping a beat, he said, “Ooh, Xiu Xiu!” And then sang the “la la la la la lalala” part. 

“Are they going to come here soon?” he asked. “Because I have to see them.” My heart sang! I’ve only seen Xiu Xiu once, in Kentucky in 2008, and it was one of the scariest, most bone-chillingest shows I’ve ever seen.  I will never forget the first time I heard Clowne Towne in 2004; I had the best nightmares. 

Two Xiu Xiu fans under one roof. This etched more frown lines in Henry’s brow. 

 :(   

We went to Waggener’s Country Kitchen (???? I’ve been there three times and just don’t know) with Blake and his girlfriend Hailey last night for dinner and Chooch’s comedy act was on point. Which is to say, I have no idea how he didn’t get us kicked out. He was so sassy to the waitress too and I silently prayed she wouldn’t have the cook spit in our food. 

Spit or not no spit, my grilled cheese was perf. 

“You always get grilled cheese,” Blake laughed. 

Yeah, because it’s the best! One day I’ll finally get that tattoo that my pal Sarah drew up for me. One day. Sigh…

Also, if Hailey ever comes to hang out with us again, I will be super shocked. I hope we didn’t scare her off because we like her!

  
Shit got rowdy. 

 We spent most of the day working on phase 1 of this year’s Easter portraits. And I hope you read that as: “We held butcher knives to each other’s throats and screamed about how much we fucking hate each other.”

We’re ok now. But I think this house is definitely on its way to being haunted. 

One upside of the day though was this morning when Henry actually sat down and watched CNN with me and for the first time in 15 years, we found ourselves politically aligned. Thanks, Donald Trump. Vehemently disagreeing with you has brought Henry and me closer together!

And now, The Walking Dead, where we get to watch other people being violent. 

**WARNING: Lots of words about bands and music ahead. Maybe there might be something you like though, so you should give it a chance. It’s 2016! You never know!**

It’s not that I don’t look forward to every show I attend, but the last few months have been excruciating waiting to see Citizen. I’ve been listening to them a ton since summer and this tour lineup was golden, start to finish. Originally, I was going to go by myself, which is no big deal but this show was at the Altar Bar and the vibe there always brings me down when I’m alone. I can’t really put my finger on it, but somehow that place is a magnet for assholes and I almost always have a problem with someone. And I knew I was going to have to stand on the balcony on account of my old lady brittle bones, which meant I was going to be surrounded by the drunk assholes who shout to their friends over top of the music. And what’s  more annoying than paying money to see one of your favorite bands when you can’t escape banal conversation?

Mr. Smalls > Altar Bar, forever.

Anyway, on Monday—two days before the show—I twisted Henry’s arm hard enough* that he conceded. Thank god too, because I had already bought his ticket, ha.

*IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Before the show, we had a quick dinner at Thin Man Sandwich Shop. I had that grilled ricotta chiesi you see down there. IT WAS SO GOOD. I love that place.

Guy: Henry, how are you?

Henry: Not thrilled, guy. 

After dinner, we walked over to the Altar Bar, where Henry immediately started grimacing as he saw generations way below his lining up at the door. To be fair, it was a pretty mixed bag as far as ages go, but Henry’s so old that he’s always going to stick out. I at least got carded still.

We were early enough that I was able to snag my favorite balcony spot, which is practically right over the stage. I knew it was going to get crowded on the floor and I haven’t been feeling well enough to risk getting a shoe in the face, or to even be that close to people in general.

Milk Teeth came on promptly at 7:

Talk about being transported back to the mid-90s, holy shit. And I mean that in all of the best ways. They have a grunge throwback sound that made me feel like I was back in Lisa’s Jeep, learning to drive in Jefferson Memorial.

They’re from England and this is their first time touring the US. And Pittsburgh got to be their first taste of America. That’s….alarming.

I’m pretty vocal about my pickiness for female singers, but I’m board with these guys 100%.

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The girl next to me whipped around, look me straight in the eyes, and said very seriously, “She is everything. My God!” I agreed with her wholeheartedly, but then she went back to talking to her date and I was like, “HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHEN YOU HAVE BEEN TALKING THROUGH THEIR ENTIRE SET!?”

Other than that, my balcony neighbors weren’t too bad. I even helped her date save her spot when she went to the bathroom. That’s very un-Erin-like. I really must have been sick.

Chooch really likes this video:

Henry had to think about it for two days before committing to a solid, “They weren’t bad.”

I was all up in some GIRLPOWER after that, though. SOMEONE TEACH ME HOW TO PLAY BASS. Or how about whatever the easiest instrument of all time is, but maybe one step up from a triangle.

Next up was Sorority Noise! The crowd started to get a little rowdier at this point, which chiseled deeper frown lines into Henry’s weathered face.

This one young girl came pushing through the crowd right as they started and she shouted back every single word, and what the hell is my problem, but this made me cry tears of joy!? I had to stop myself from saying into Henry’s ear how happy it made me to see young kids having something to feel passionate about, but I knew he would roll his eyes so I veiled my face with my hair and cried in private.

I think a lot of it is that I didn’t have that when I was a teenager. I had a lot of canned happiness and sobbing alone in my bedroom.

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I hope when Chooch is older and starts going to shows with his friends, that he’s one of those kids down there ferociously pointing his finger at the stage and shouting along to all of the words that get him through his days.

AND I LEARNED TO LOVE MYSELF MORE THAN I COULD EVER LOVE YOU – gets me every fucking time.

Turnover was next and I had to brace myself for their beautiful blend of modern shoegaze, and also I had no idea their singer had such a Henry-esque haircut! I kept asking Henry if that’s what he looked like in the nineties and he would only answer in various degrees of frowns. He was even wearing Henry-approved jeans. Also, he recently shaved his mustache, so imagine how much more Young Henryish he must have looked.

I was almost peeing my pants, waiting for Turnover. Listening to them makes me feel like going out and catching lightning bugs, or some other precious summer activity that you would never expect me to do. Like, holding hands with Henry.

I was really glad Henry was there, because Turnover is the kind of band that seeing alone would be depressing.

Would you come here and spin with me?
I’ve been dying to get you dizzy,
Find a way up into your head
So I can make you feel like new again

Also? They’re on my record label crush, Run For Cover. There’s not one bad band in that bunch.

Like, for instance….CITIZEN.

As soon as they started playing, there was this massive surge of people pushing toward the stage, and Henry leaned against the balcony with a big smile because looking down disapprovingly upon a mass of crowd-surfers is worth the price of the ticket for him. So while he stood laughing out loud at the kids below, I used that as my opportunity to openly weep and mouth the words to every song, like the true sad girl I am.

I could honestly fill this entire post with Citizen videos because it’s too hard to choose one song to represent them. A lot of people hated their last album because they shifted from a pop-punk vibe to a more grungy slow-burn sound. I personally like them both ways and to me, they’re still the same band. Isn’t that the point of being a musician, to continually evolve and hone your sound? Who wants to keep putting out the same album over and over.

Their old songs seemed to merge effortlessly with the new ones that night, it wasn’t like a jarring shift in the vibe as they bounced back and forth between their discography. I kept reading things on various forums about how crowds weren’t responding well to the new songs, and I’m sorry, but the Pittsburgh crowd was fucking in it to win it.

It was everything I hoped it would be and I felt so alive. Meanwhile, the guy next to me got ditched by his date. Maybe she ran off to find the singer of Milk Teeth, since she thought she was “everything” even though she talked through Milk Teeth’s entire set. So he ended up forfeiting his spot and I was so worried that assholes were going to swoosh in, but two peaceful, older guys (older as in like late 20s, lol) took the empty spot and my night got to continue along down the river of tranquility. Everything was fucking perfect and beautiful and I loved everyone that night, even kind of Henry.

This is how you keep my top from popping off. Get me to at least two shows a month and I won’t rip your face off.

I love them so much.

The next day, I was at work and Henry sent me a text that said, “Last night wasn’t bad.”

THAT MEANS, IN HENRY-SPEAK, THAT HE HAD A NICE TIME!

HENRY IS A CITIZEN FAN!

HENRY LIKES SOMETHING I LIKE!!

What a fucking beautiful night. My heart is exploding.

Apparently, Chooch’s singing skills are sufficient enough to get him an invitation to the All City Chorus. There’s a handful of rehearsals that take place Saturday mornings at a school on the North Side, culminating in some big hoedown at the August Wilson Center in May.

Chooch said he wanted to do it, so I did the parental thing and signed the permission slip, stuck the schedule to the fridge with a magnet, and then actually managed to remember the first rehearsal was this past Saturday.

I’m getting really good at this mom thing. I’m almost as good of a mom as Henry!

We arrived at the school early, thanks to my inability to ever be late in life, and thus began a 2 and a half hour slowdive into the seedy underbelly of the juvenile choral industry. Originally, Henry and I were going to sneak away after the first few minutes (that sounds way more scandalous than it would have been), but then I found myself DEEP IN IT. My disdain for other children is oftentimes similar to the pain of a toothache — if I ignore it, I forget it’s there. YET I’LL SIT HERE AND PRACTICALLY SWORD-FIGHT IT WITH A TOOTHPICK because I’m a fucking sadomasochist.

So I began to seek out kids to hate. I scanned the middle section of the auditorium, looking for the kids that were prone to making my blood boil. Luckily, there was an entire half of a row of them right across from me.

Some broad was passing out folders to all of the kids who didn’t bring one (um, mine being one of them because nowhere did it say PARENTS SEND YOUR CHILD WITH A FOLDER). Everyone who needed one raised their hand and then she counted off how many each row needed and handed them to the first person in each row.

The row that I was fixating on had about 5 kids on the end closer to me, a bunch of empty seats, and then three more kids on the end. One of those three kids had their hand up, and Broad told the kids closest to our end to pass the extra folder down  to the girl in need, but as soon as Broad walked away, one of the kids lazily handed the folder off to some kid in front of him. SOME KID WHO DIDN’T EVEN NEED A FOLDER.

I was all up-in-arms over this.

Henry thought I was White Knighting the girl and mumbled, “Don’t worry about the other kids. Our kid got a folder and that’s all  that matters.

”

I’m not WORRIED about other kids. I just DISLIKE kids and hate missing an opportunity to start shit. And I hate INJUSTICE!!!!

I wanted to tattle so badly, but Henry advised against that.

Still, I had my eyes on that kid from then on. He done motherfucking marked himself.

“He’s not even singing!” I hoarsely whispered later, and Henry shot me the LET IT GO eyes.

The rest of the class was pretty boring. The instructor, some short dude who is apparently my age but looks way older took a lot of time out to teach this band of Yinzer rabblerousers how to properly enunciate things, and I found myself quietly following along in my seat. That was fun but I promise you I went right back to my lazy enunciating ways.

“I don’t know how people have the patience to teach kids. I would have quit  by now,” I spat sourly.

“Pfft. You wouldn’t have even shown up,” Henry said. TOUCHÉ MOTHERFUCKER.

The definite highlight for me was when Mr. Instructor lost his shit in a very calm, calculated manner and said, “You know what I think is the rudest thing ever? When I’m trying to teach and a bunch of kids are talking over top of me.” YEAH BOY. PUT THOSE LITTLE DICKS ON BLAST!

So that actually ended up being a pretty entertaining time-suck. The instructor said that the song they’ll be singing with all of the older kids at the recital is going to be We Are the World, and that fucking song has been stuck in my head all week without them even practicing it.

My friend Jessi has been posting some old pics of Chooch on Facebook and getting me all nostalgic, so I decided for Throwback Thursday to repost the time she and Bill came in from Michigan and helped us throw Chooch a zombie-themed party for his 4th birthday. This is also notable because it was the last time my mom was involved in any of Chooch’s birthdays. #sadtuba

This was in May 2010. HAPPY THROWBACK THURSDAY.

———

Guest list:

• Alisha
• Bill & Jessi
  
• Kara & Harland
• Charlie
• Henry’s mom
• My mom-mom-mommy
• Henry’s sister Kelly & some of her kids

• Blake
  
• Evonne, Sadie & Lydia
• Christy & Claire
• Janna
  

When Chooch told me months ago, like literally it might still have been 2009, that he wanted to have a zombie themed birthday party, I had every intention of going all out. I even started thinking of ideas for like, ten entire minutes.

With the exception of designing the invitations with Chooch (which actually was not last minute and were mailed out in timely fashion), there wasn’t much more that I accomplished, aside from a last minute trip to Goodwill on the morning of his party, to shop for clothes to mutilate and bloody for the photos I wanted to take of each individual party guest, as a souvenir. Kind of like a prom picture, except with blood, a fake cemetery in the background, and a pine tree with Christmas lights haphazardly slung across its lower boughs, which really bothers me now when I look back at all the pictures. I think Bill should have painted the wires green. It could have been a zombie / Alice in Wonderland crossover, guests arriving while an undead Bill slops green paint on a tree and nervously yells about the scary queen (THAT’S ME) who’s running around with hedge clippers and shouting, “Off with your balls.”

The plan was to have the party outside; but like last year, it was around FIFTY DEGREES with the threat of rain. In May. So everything was set up in my mom’s garage to protect the guests from the impending deluge of rain. The kids had enough rain-free time to run amok outside for most of the party, at least. Because I can’t imagine Chooch being contained in a three-car garage for three hours.

Chooch the Zombie Enthusiast flipped his shit when he saw Bill for the first time, post-zombie makeover. We thought Chooch was just playing into it when he used the car as a barrier, but then Bill noticed he was legitimately crying and we all had an “oh shit” moment. Bill retreated to the garage to allow Jessi and I to try and coax Chooch from the car.

“You can open one of your presents now!” I pleaded. That worked. Good thing I used that first, instead of “You can cut Bill with this knife I got here,” because maybe Jessi might not have liked that. (And Bill wouldn’t have had much say.)

And Chooch was fine after that. So fine, in fact, that he wanted Jessi to make him up as a zombie too. I think it was just initial shock combined with Bill’s overzealousness (which Chooch ended up loving later).

Jessi somehow encouraged Alisha and Janna to get made-up, too. They kept trying to get me to do it as well, but having that much make-up on my face is yet another item in my treasure trove of neuroses and just the fact that I had to keep saying no nearly made me break out in hives. It’s probably not good that I took myself out of therapy all those years ago.

BFFs again, no biggie.

And the food! Don’t get me started on that. I had this great vision of mini meatloaves baked in over-sized cupcake tins and then Ketchup’d, like chunks of bloodied flesh. Well, Henry took that vision and fucked it up the ass. He basically made a plate of meatballs. When I voiced my aghast-ness, he then tried to get all Alton Brown: meatloaf edition on me, but I think he was lying. It could have been done.

I don’t even know what else there was to eat, to be honest, aside from what I initially thought were turtles (chicken breasts, apparently). But I will tell you there was no gelatin brain.  I mean, why would there be something so disgustingly anatomical at a zombie party??

It’s a good thing a four-year-old doesn’t give a shit about the catering at birthday parties.

That morning at Goodwill, I found (fine – Alisha found) these two lovely nightgowns and I instantly had visions of my friends Kara and Christy swathed in bloody versions of night attire, and holding their babies in front of the cemetery I set up. The cemetery was the only thing I was concerned about all day. It was a very big deal for me. I texted Kara before she arrived and said, “I have a nightgown; will you wear it?” She said yes and thought nothing of it, because I’ve asked her to do dumber things before.

This ended up being my favorite picture of the day.

I barraged Christy before she was even out of her car. She just rolled her eyes at my request because we’ve known each other since we were four and short of auto-amputation, nothing I do really shocks and awes her. At first, she tried to say that she couldn’t get the nightgown on over her hoodie and I was like, “Bitch, you best be tryin’ a little harder. Don’t make me pretend I’m in a girl gang again.”

Also, this was my first time finally meeting Christy’s baby Claire and she is so sweet! The combination of Claire and Harland was like an upper-cut/right hook combo to my ovaries, though. At one point, Henry even grabbed my silk-gloved hand and said, “Darling, shall we try for another?” And then I rammed my parasol up his tweed-trousered asshole.

The best part was that Kara and Christy both kept their respective nightgowns on for the rest of the party. I like to think it’s because they thought it was AWESOME, but warmth probably had a little more to do with it. They spent most of the party together, in a baby bubble, and I couldn’t  help but crack up every time I turned around and saw the two of them in their bloody nightgowns, cooing to each other’s baby.

“Just another night at the shelter,” Charlie said at one point, and I could NOT STOP LAUGHING. Don’t worry, I said the Rosary that night.

Charlie opted to play the role of “Victim #1.”

I realized afterward that I have zero pictures of Blake or any of the cousins, except Zac. None of the teens wanted to dress up, which I thought was strange since that’s like, something kids want to do. I mean, other than betting on cock fights in Biloxi and foxtrotting with trannies. (Is that still what teens do nowadays?) And Blake didn’t talk to me the whole time. I guess that’s a new thing or something. It wasn’t awkward at all and it certainly didn’t make me cry to Alisha behind the garage.

My mom ordered the cake undecorated, aside from the Happy Birthday part, and then made the graveyard scene with those new Oreos and zombie finger puppets. She apparently forgot to make sure it flowed with the writing on the side, but that’s just my bastard nit-picking coming out. I thought she did a great job! Unlike the photo I took, which is out of focus because I had like, 20 people staring at me and I just wanted to be done. Yet another reason why I’d never consider photography as anything other than a hobby!

He got a ton of great loot, like: a Jason Voorhees action figure, vampire movie collection, Night of the Living Dead DVD, and a Spiderman book (being held in above photo) from Bill and Jessi; a Spike Jr. and a dragon from Evonne, Sadie, and Lydia; a remote control zombie from Alisha; a Leatherface figurine, with interchangeable heads and arms, from Charlie; two plush zombies and a Tony Hawk bike from my mom; this really cool zombie figurine from my brother Ryan; a complete artist’s orgasm from Kara; gift cards from Christy and Kelly; and a Spiderman skateboard from Janna.

It really made me wish I was still a kid!

Before I knew it, three hours had passed and everyone started to leave. There was a Penguins game on that night and I’m sure most of the guests were happy to know that I’d be the first one to abandon my kid’s party for it.

Bill and Jessi had to check in to their hotel first, zombie makeup and all, but came back to my house later to hang out and, more importantly,  so Bill could get called a “douche cup” by Chooch when he had the audacity to deviate from the Lego instructions.

When they came back over the next morning for breakfast, Bill held out his hand and said, “Here, somehow Leatherface’s head made it into my pants last night.” So, now we know what Bill does after drinking a little Manischewitz.  I think that was the highlight of my entire weekend.

Thanks again to everyone who came and showed your love for my little zombie-child. It was so great to see everyone, especially you guys who came from hours and hours away. It really meant a lot to us! (Maybe not Henry, because he’s rude.)

And ever since his party ended, Chooch has been going on and on about his next party. “It’s going to be a CARROT party,” he says so full of certainty. “With CARROT ICING.” And no, he’s not just insinuating he wants a carrot CAKE. This is a full-scale carrot PARTY, you guys. And he wants everyone to dress as carrots. Have fun with that!