The “STOP ASKING ME WHO MY FAVORITE DANCE GAVIN DANCE SINGER IS” shot.

The “Making Henry Walk To the Ice Cream Shop With Us Because I Don’t Feel Like Dealing With Paying” shot.

The “NO I DON’T WANT ANY ICE CREAM!!!!” shot.

Bonus: The “Henry Leads Us Safely Across the Street” un-bomb shot.

The “THANKS FOR PAYING FOR OUR ICE CREAM, HENRY” shot.

The “I Caught Henry Watching Kurt Travis YouTube Videos!” shot.

The “Henry’s Son Showed Up Unexpectedly!” bonus Blake bomb!

The “There’s Nowhere to Sit in the Living Room, Beard Stroking” shot.

The “OMG IS HENRY DEAD!?!??!?!” shot.

  
The “We Never Had to Wait to Cross the Street in THE SERVICE” shot. 

The “I Was On the Wrong Side of the Booth So Chooch Assisted In Capturing Henry At the Salad Bar” shot.   

The “Henry’s Got a Gun” shot. 

As you know, Internet Diary, Henry is a relatively good sport when it comes to putting up with the music I like*. But sometimes he puts his foot down when it comes to certain shows, and that’s OK because he endures a lot for me. Last night’s Pianos Become the Teeth show at the Altar Bar was one of the times I gave him a reprieve. It used to be that I would beg someone else to go with me or just not go at all, but I just don’t give a fuck anymore. So I bought one ticket and went alone, because after seeing this band at Riot Fest and then opening for Circa Survive last year, I have been dying to see them headline.

*(“Like” is an understatement; I fucking live for music. Even when I’m not listening to it, I’m reading about it, searching for it, talking about it, dreaming about it—Matt Mingus was holding my hand in my dream Friday night!–or flat out just hearing it in my head.)

Henry and Chooch dropped me off though, because that’s the least they can do!

I got there right before doors opened and there were only about 10 people standing around, so that was a pretty good sign that this was going to be a small crowd. Good for me, but bad for the bands. I went straight to the bar and ordered one of those beers-that-aren’t-real-beers (Leinenkugel Summer Shandy) and then proceeded to stand awkwardly in between two guys who were also there alone. One of my Instagram friends commented on my Shandy picture and said “ME TOO!” and I thought she meant she was also at the show, so I got all excited at the prospect of knowing someone there and having someone to stand with, but then she explained that she just meant she was also drinking a summer shandy.

So, still alone.

The downside of being 35 and still neck-deep in the music scene, I guess.

I stayed in the bar area for the first two bands: My Captain, My Sea and Gates. It was the very last show for My Captain, My Sea, a local band whose drummer has accepted a full-time job playing in the US Army’s bands. It’s a super shame because they’re great! But the whole time, I was thinking about how much Henry would have hated them. And that made me miss him. It’s fine once the bands are playing, especially since I can stand wherever the fuck I want, but in between sets I become 1000x more awkward than usual because WHAT SHOULD I DO WITH MY HANDS OMG HELP. So I texted Henry bathroom selfies and maniacally checked Instagram. Jesus, what did we do before iPhones?!

I was really interested in seeing Gates, too. Their music is just so beautiful and it made me feel like I was floating, but that could have also been because I was on to my second shandy at that point and I am a huge light weight because I drink so infrequently these days. Out of all the bands there last night, I feel like they were the most accessible, so here is a video. DECIDE FOR YOURSELVES, K?

After Gates, I left the bar area and went down to the basement to use the bathroom. The thing I love the most about the Altar Bar is that their bathrooms are on point. They even have a bathroom attendant, so I don’t walk out of there feeling like a petri dish for MERSA and ringworm like I do at Mr. Small’s & Smiling Moose.

On my way back up the hallway after that, I passed what I guess was the green room and made super awkward eye contact with the singer of Pianos Become the Teeth, Kyle. HE IS SO INTIMIDATING! Instead of going back to the 21+ area, I moved closer to the stage. The bar area is really small and there were just enough chatty broads in there to make it intolerable. I might get some flak from other girls for saying this, because girl power or whatever, but girls are the most annoying part of pretty much any show I have ever gone to. I mean, is it that hard to SHUT THE FUCK UP while a band is playing?! Why do you pay money to go to a show if all you’re going to do is make strenuous attempts at conversing with your boyfriend who totally doesn’t care what you’re saying because HE IS LISTENING TO THE BAND HE PAID MONEY TO SEE? I don’t get it. How can  you be enjoying yourself if you’re SHOUTING into someone’s ear and they’re shrugging and mouthing the words, “Sorry, I can’t hear you.”

Maybe it’s sexist of me, but I definitely witness this coming from broads waaay more than bros. Just sayin’!

Girls, if you can’t keep your fucking mouths shut, maybe consider staying home.

People.

Then it was time for Loma Prieta and DANG did they hit the spot. Straight-up scream, friends. Straight-up motherfucking screamo.

I was laughing so hard on the inside imagining how much anguish Henry would be in if he was standing next to me for this band.

A little screamo goes a long way. Live screamo is a lot like being exorcised, I would think.

And then it was time for Pianos! This band is a thing of beauty. I don’t even know how else to describe them other than stressing how utterly beautiful their music is. And the way Kyle’s voice quakes, there is something about it that evokes real emotion and it’s hard not to feel anything listening to him sing. They ditched the screaming on their most recent album, kind of reinvented themselves in a way, and believe me — that album is tight. But the crowd last night came alive when they played old tracks. Kyle was the epitome of a tortured soul on that stage and it made my heart strum.

REPINE IS MY FAVORITE! I got choked up.

There were three girls next to me who were seemingly mega-fans and literally were swooning. I’m not kidding, fucking doubled over and fanning themselves. But then they goddamn talked to each other through most of it! DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN!? Why are girls such concert cunts!?

But the crowd was mostly inoffensive. And even though I was there alone, I didn’t feel lonely. We were all there together. Music is great that way.

Aside from inappropriately-timed conversations, it was a great show. I had the perfect spot near the stage (it was hard not to have the perfect spot—there was hardly anyone there!) and I left the Altar Bar with an even greater appreciation for Pianos Become the Teeth. So much beauty. So many feels. I’m glad I didn’t pass this one up!

Go listen to them! Feel the things! Buy their albums! Go to a show!

Then I had to stand outside and wait for Papa H to come and fetch me. When I got in the car, Chooch was “ironically” listening to the Kidz Bop XM station, totally negating my night of good music. Ugh, thanks a lot Chooch.

ETA: it is now Monday morning and I told Glenn my woeful tale of how I had to go to a show alone because Henry put his foot down.

“I could have been kidnapped!”

“I guess Henry was willing to take that chance,” Glenn muttered in his standard monotone. 

I don’t know that I would really call this a tradition, but sometimes on Mother’s Day, Henry will act like The Best Man On Earth and take me to DelGrosso’s Amusement Park, about 2 hours outside of Pittsburgh, so that I can ride the fuck out of the Wacky Worm and shovel potato salad down my throat in the style of violent porno cunnilingus.

Or, you know, pie eating contest.

Plus, moms ride for free on Mother’s Day.

This year, we didn’t have to rent a car! Yay new car! We listened to Dance Gavin Dance THE WHOLE WAY THERE because it was Mother’s Day. Oh OK, let’s be real: every day is my day when it comes to radio control. The best part is that the stereo system is so good that Chooch chattered away in the backseat and I COULDN’T HEAR A WORD HE SAID! Ahhh, a mother’s bliss.

However, I did hear him pipe up from the backseat and request Circa Survive. I was like, “WHAT SRSLY? You want me to put on Circa Survive?!” and he said, “Yes. ‘Act Appalled’.” I almost broke my finger off in my frantic attempt to queue up this song post-haste, because I have been waiting NINE YEARS for my son to like Circa Survive. I used to listen to their first album constantly when I was pregnant with him! And I tell him that all of the time and he just rolls his eyes. But on this day? On this day, he sat in the backseat and sang along because that little fucker knows all of the words and has probably always liked them but he’s just like HIS DAD in  that regard.

 Henry pretended to hate The Used for like, 6 years!

God, what a great Mother’s Day present, hearing Chooch’s little boy voice singing along with Anthony Green. That was way better than the makeup from Ulta, and it was FREE!

My second favorite part of the day was when we got to Delgrosso’s and the old lady inside the admission booth looked at me skeptically and asked, “Are you….the mom?” YES I AM NOW GIVE ME MY FREE WRIST BAND, HERE JUST PUT IT ON ABOVE MY OTHER WRISTBAND FROM LAST NIGHT, THANKS.

And then right away, it was Wacky Worm time!

Chooch wanted to ride in separate worm-compartments and I threw an actual fit while we stood in line, and then accused him of not giving a shit about my feelings, and on MOTHER’S DAY OF ALL DAYS. Finally, he was like, “Jesus Christ, OK. Pick a damn seat!”

I hit my leg SO HARD when I sat down. The Wacky Worm is not kind to us tall kids.

Immediately after this, I went up to Henry and said, “FOOD.” He put in our pizza, came over to the bench Chooch and I were slouched upon, making fun of people, and handed me  the receipt. “Here. Listen for our number to be called while I go and order the potato salad.”

WTF? How did this become my problem!?

Of course, Chooch and I forgot about our big important task almost immediately, until I realized a few minutes later that a number greater than ours was being called. “WTF, did we miss our number?” I asked Chooch. So we got up and stood closer to the pizza windows, and I totally panicked while numbers were called out of order because HOW WILL WE EVER KNOW IF THEY CALLED OURS ALREADY?

It was so confusing and I kept emitting audible groans of disgust and anguish because why do I have to do this thing?

! It was probably the worst part of my day, maybe.

But then our number was called for real and Chooch and I had already devoured our slices by the time Henry came back to our table with his hot dog (which Chooch took from him) and the potato salad.

Henry is always the last one to eat.

Anyway, I was really mad because one of my biggest pet peeves is when Chooch gets food all over himself. I feel like, at the age of 9, he should maybe have a better grasp on his food-handling by now, I don’t know?! So I said, “PLEASE do not get pizza on  yourself, I’m begging you” and by the time I turned back to my own pizza slice, a glob of sauce had sluiced right off his chin and plopped right smack onto the crotch of his shorts.

I called him Sauce Crotch for the rest of the day and now I’m going to draw him a picture of Sasquatch wearing stained shorts, but don’t worry, he’ll also be holding a slice of pizza in his hand so it will look less like a menstrual mishap.

All you potato salad aficionados out there, ya gotta try DelGrosso’s. It is fucking ON POINT. I referred to it as “Creamy sex” once and I stand by that statement. Henry bought some shitty supermarket brand potato salad the next day and I was like, “Why do you have to bring this ghetto shit in my house? The day after Delgrosso’s, really? You’re killing me.”

On the Crazy Mouse, Chooch practiced all of his swears in one long tangent and I just don’t care to stop him from swearing anymore. Just don’t do it in school and I’m fine with it. Parenting sometimes takes mental strength which I do not have a lot of.  I feel tired just typing that out, to be honest.

There was some young kid on the carousel who had a 1990s Billy Ray Cyrus mullet and of course I took an entire series of photos, but I’m not going to post them here because I have a tiny shred of common sense that is telling me that might not be wise. (I’m trying to be smarter about blogging, and it’s been a struggle.) But my lord, was that mullet majestic.

The thing about Delgrosso’s is that once you ride the Wacky Worm and the Crazy Mouse, it’s like “………………….”

It’s a really small park and the rest of the rides are your typical carnival/county fair assortment: Paratroopers, Tilt-A-Whirl, carousel, Music Express, pirate ship…basically it’s a bunch of different ways to self-impose whiplash and/or motion sickness. I’ve gotten ridiculously sick here before, to the point where I had to lay down across a bench and pray to the Vertigo gods to reset my eyeballs and put the color back in my cheeks. I try to pace myself now, which means Paratroopers/45 minutes of nothing/ice cream/Music Express/45 minutes of nothing/watch Chooch play games/Tilt-a-Whirl/OMG I’M DYING LET’S LEAVE/go home.

Chooch is like, “I can’t wait until I can ride this shit with my friends and not my weird MOM.”

I couldn’t get  my eyeballs to stop moving back and forth after this ride and it was concerning.

We let Chooch go off and buy his own drink and then for a good 5 minutes there was a mild concern that he had been kidnapped. Don’t worry, he came back to us. Just like a boomerang.

A sweaty, foul-mouthed boomerang.

I wonder what it’s like to be Chooch.

Pre-Tilt-a-Whirl nausea.

The Tilt-a-Whirl was being worked on all day but we just happened to be standing near it when they declared success and a Delgrosso’s ride operator walked on to give it one more test run.

“IS IT OK NOW?” I called up to him, and he kind of nodded, sort of, so Chooch and I raced to get in line and Henry was like, “Seriously? The gate isn’t even open yet.” It took everything in my power not to turn around and shout “FIRST!!!” in the faces of the asshole kids behind us. MOVE A LITTLE FASTER NEXT TIME.

I guess the ride operator was trying to overcompensate for the ride being closed all day, because he left us on there for a good three minutes.

That’s about two minutes too long in Spinny Ride Time.

And you know how sometimes the Tilt-a-Whirl is a big fat dud? Your car doesn’t get any good spins? Well, this particular go-around was chockfull of violent spins, which were ultra giggle-inducing at first, but then it quickly turned to stomach-churning and I was afraid that I was going to giggle chunks of potato salad right out of my open mouth, so I was pretty quiet for the last two minutes.

When I stumbled off the ride, Henry was waiting there to say, “Good for you” with that smug fucking look on his face. And then, “So, I guess you’re ready to go home then?”

Twist my arm.

But first! One last ride on the Wacky Worm. Never too sick for the Wacky Worm. (Until I am.)

I wanted Henry to carry me to the car but he was just like, “You haven’t lost THAT much weight.”

***********

The next day, we were in our weekly meeting and our boss asked if we all had a nice Mother’s Day. Glenn spoke up and said, “Tell everyone what you did, Erin!” because he knows I hate talking in our meetings, so I mumbled that I rode the Wacky Worm but out of everyone in the room that day, only Glenn and Amber1 know about my Wacky Worm obsession so I mumbled a brief explanation and everyone was kind of like, “Oh. Ok.”

#misunderstood
FUN FACT: If you Google image search “Wacky Worm”, a picture of Glenn comes up on the first page.

A Lot Of Fuss Over Salt

Amber¹ came back from GNC today and, in the style of Vanna White, showed Glenn, Todd, and me the big honkin’ bottle of Pink Himalyan salt she bought.

“It’s like the new weight loss fad,” she explained, telling us about some detox thing she read about it. She said it’s hard to find now in stores because so many people are buying it, but I got excited because we have some of that at home!

“I guess Henry was trendy before everyone else!” I laughed. Then I paused and thoughtfully added, “You know, Henry has all kinds of weird salt in the kitchen…”

“Well, he cooks, doesn’t he?” Glenn snapped. “That’s why he has salt.”

Glenn and Todd started chirping about how salt is salt and there is no way that this pink shit is any better, but I had to back up Amber on this one because I just recently sprinkled some of those pretty crystals on my diet popcorn and it was great. “It really does taste better,” I insisted. “Probably because it’s pink.”

“So, you can taste colors now?” Glenn sneered. Then he immediately emailed our group a link to some article about how Pink Himalayan salt IS A SCAM.

YEAH WELL YOU’RE A SCAM, GLENN.

Amber asked me if I wanted any of her salt. “Sure, why not,” I shrugged, holding out an open palm. Walking back to my desk with a handful of freshly ground pink crystals, I said, “I feel like this is a designer drug.” I bet Jonny Craig would do it.

Glenn declined Amber’s offer. “I know what salt tastes like,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, but this is PINK,” I reminded him.

“Sorry, I can’t taste color,” he said.

Is Turkey Meat?

“Do you eat turkey bacon?” Amber called over to me from her desk. “Wait, is turkey meat?”

God, someone’s high on salt!

Papa’s On Death Row

“The Boston Marathon bomber got the death sentence,” Todd announced to us later in the afternoon. “Wow, and he’s only 21,” he said in a “that’s a damn shame” tone.

“He’ll be in there for a long time, though,” Glenn chimed in.

“Yeah, my penpal has been on death row since the 90s,” I said in my normal cheerful work tone (i.e. my “fake voice,” as Henry calls it), getting up from my desk to go on my lunch break. This allowed me to see Todd’s face as he quietly said, “Oh, for real?”

“You don’t seem very shocked that she has deathrow pen pal,” Glenn laughed.

“Oh, pen pal?!” Todd exclaimed, laughing. “I thought she said ‘papa’ at first and I was like, ‘wow, awkward’.” He told me later that for about 20 seconds, his mind was full of speeding thoughts, like, “I CAN’T BELIEVE SHE’S SO OPEN ABOUT THIS” and “OH GOD I WANT TO ASK HER WHAT HE DID!

”

I legitimately had to walk out because I was crying real tears from laughing so hard. I made a pit stop to the bathroom before going outside for my walk, and I sat in the stall laughing so hard that I know it sounded like I was under duress. After this, I proceeded to go outside where I walked around while laughing alone like a crazy person, but no one gave me a second thought because it was 4:00PM on a Friday in downtown Pittsburgh; I looked normal compared to most everyone else.

When I came back in from my break, Todd and I continued talking about our miscommunication.

“For some reason though, the funniest part to me is that you thought I call my dad ‘papa’!” I laughed, imagining myself wearing an apron and picking berries in the Alps while Papa cuts up the kindling. “The only thing my dad is notorious for is being in a Columbia Gas commercial,” I assured him.

What a weird day. I blame the salt.

This image is from Puddles’ Facebook page.

Sometime last year, back when Chris still worked with me (MEMORIES), she sent me a Post Modern Jukebox video that featured a 6’8″ clown singing “Royals.” It was enchanting! (Probably not to coulrophobes.) I just really love clowns so much!

About a month ago, I saw that Puddles Pity Party was coming to the Rex in Pittsburgh and I was like, “THAT IS THAT SUPER SEXY CLOWN WITH THE HONEY VOICE.” So I texted Chris and she and Monica were like, “Let’s do this shit.”

And Henry was like, “Yay, you have people to go with you. Peace out!”

A week prior to the show, we were sitting at a table in the Laser Storm party room when Chris told me that she made the mistake of looking up information for his shows online and discovered that he relies heavily on audience participation. I hoped that she meant like along the lines of “When I say —-, you say —-” type of bullshit. But no, she meant that he will flat out pull people out of their seat and drag them onto the stage and make them sing EVEN IF THEY DON’T KNOW THE WORDS.

Do you know how much I love music? Ask me to sing a song off the top of my head and I will fucking FREEZE because OMG there are WORDS in that song? WHY CAN’T I REMEMBER THERE BEING WORDS IN THAT SONG!?!?

EVEN THE CURE.

We had pre-Puddles dinner at the Library that evening and I made sure to drink every last drop of whatever that blueberry beer stuff was that I ordered while Chris and Monica divulged insider info regarding their upcoming wedding. I should mention that on the walk there, we passed a young couple. The girl was all, “I LOVE YOUR TATTOO” and the boy was all, “AND I LOVE YOUR PURSE.” Chooch would have been so pissed, because it was my eyeball purse, of course.

After dinner, Monica saved me from basically falling off a cliff/stepping on a rake/shambling into traffic because god forbid I should be responsible enough to safely walk down a sidewalk. The sun was in my eyes, OK?!

Once we got to the Rex, my nerves started to kick in because PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME GET ON STAGE. I was acutely aware of Chris and Monica talking about DJ Qbert, who was performing at the Rex later in the week. Monica wanted to book him for their wedding but Chris said only if he plays one Garth Brooks song. It went something like that, I think.

We look sweaty because it was like 95 degrees out, and that is real sweat on our faces. #PittsburghSpring

The Rex is not very big, and the room was full of folding chairs. Because this was a seated event. So, chairs. We stood around like kids on the first day of school, figuratively biting our fingernails while trying to decide which seats would have us looking less like sitting ducks and more like invisible nobodies. We ultimately chose a row on the left, a few rows back from the stage. I claimed the seat right next to the wall and was satisfied because the wall jutted out in front of me just enough that I could use it as a shield if necessary.

My stage fright is on another level. I keep getting worse with age, too. When I was a youngin’, I was at some dinner theater thing in Switzerland with my family and there were men on a stage playing those Ricola commercial horns. They called for volunteers, and without telling my family I was doing so, I got up from the table and ran down to the stage to blow one of those fucking horns, because why the hell not. God, that seems so long ago!

Probably because it was. It was 1990, for fuck’s sake!

Anyway, now I need to be drunk to do shit like that, and I unfortunately was not drunk on this particular night.

It was getting closer and closer to 8:00 and no one had joined us in our row.

Monica kept looking nervously at the two empty seats to her right, but later she admitted that even though she was petrified of being singled out, she kind of hoped she would be. I hoped she would be too, because what would be the odds of Puddles striking twice in the same row of chairs?

Eventually, some single broad sat down at the end of our row. I half-noticed that she and Monica exchanged a few words, starting with “Is anyone sitting here?” and the next thing I knew, Monica turned to Chris and said, “Hey Chris, this girl had her car punched in L.A., too!” because Chris used to live in L.A. and had her car punched once. So then Chris and Single Broad started comparing car-punching tales and I thought to myself, “WTF could either of them had possibly said to each other to initiate the topic of car-punching?!” I asked Monica after the show and she sincerely couldn’t remember.

My theory is that the broad thanked Monica for saving her seat while she was at the bar, and Monica said, “My fiancée had her car punched one time in L.A. TOO BAD I WASN’T THERE TO SAVE THAT.”

It was super random* and weird, which made Monica’s request to have Chooch swinging on a wrecking ball at their wedding seem reasonable.

*(Turns out, having your car punched in L.A. is actually not so random, according to Monica’s new BFF; maybe the next season of Serial should be about that.)

But then it was time for Puddles! He came in from the back of the room, carrying a suitcase and IMMEDIATELY pulled some man out of the audience. Without giving anything away, I will say that he mostly didn’t torture his non-consenting volunteers too much. Mostly he just sung Happy Birthday to them, but there was one old man who he made sing “Yesterday” and I was so thankful it wasn’t me. You guys have no idea how terrible of a singer I am unless you were around for the Blogathon days, then you unfortunately do know, and might even have waking nightmares of me singing Andy Gibb. I TRULY APOLOGIZE.

I wasn’t expecting to do so much laughing, but Puddles is a great entertainer! My favorite part was definitely when he sang Sia’s “Chandelier,” which I recorded a snippet of for Chooch:

At one point, he totally seduced this one older man in the crowd who could have been Henry’s brother.

“I REALLY wish Henry would have come!” Monica cried, and I wholeheartedly agreed.

Oh Internet, can you imagine Henry getting pulled on stage by a giant clown?! UGH, Henry is the worst for not going! I’m glad I remembered that I’m mad at him!

And none of us ended up being traumatized by a stage summons! I do wish Monica had gotten picked though.

There were no openers so the show was just over an hour long, which actually felt just right to me. Afterward, we stood in line for free Puddles Cuddles, and my anxiety came back because I hate having my picture taken, but I HAD TO GET ONE because a picture of Puddles will look so wonderful in my future clown room. And then it ended up being OK, because I just made a sad face, which is more natural on me than a smile. So this is basically my regular face:

AND GUESS WHO LIKED MY PURSE, CHOOCH? Oh just my new friend, PUDDLES, no big deal!

On the way back to the car, we stopped at Le Petit Chocolat for cupcakes and chocolate, and I was pleasantly surprised! These were pretty damn close to my beloved Vanilla Pastry Studio masterpieces.

Clowns and cupcakes—what a night! I wouldn’t have known about Puddles if not for Chris, so thank you Chris! It’s always nice to go to a show that’s a bit out of my wheelhouse. #noscreaming

On Mothers Day we went to Delgrosso’s  and I had a fun day.  Of course Mommy wanted to go on the Wacky Worm first because she’s obsessed with it. So we went to the bathroom first because if I say I have to go the while we’re there daddy will get pissed. So after the Wacky Worm we went on the Crazy Mouse and  a lot of the rides were getting maintenance checked and we waited in line for a while. Since the ride only has 5 carts we went on in like 5minutes. Then mommy and  I went on the Music Express and the Umbrellas. Then  I got ice cream which was Chocolate Marshmallow and I wanted to go on the Pirate Ship (aka Pharaoh’s Fury) by MYSELF because Daddy never gets a bracelet and mommy didn’t want to get sick because she wanted to go on more rides. While I was in line Daddy was EATING my ice cream and I only had a quarter  of it and daddy had half . In line I screamed at him and the people in front of me laughed.

But mommy gets to eat ALL of her ice cream (she just said “Because I’m the best”)

Daddy gave me 1 dollar for 1 game to win on and I picked  a game where you have to put BALLS IN A CLOWN’S MOUTH (which sounds so wrong) It was pretty easy minus the fact fact where you have to get 1 ball in each slot. It took me 2 tries to win. I won this CUTE ,PURPLE ,FLUFFY ,DELIRIOUS , AND PRETTY  PIG. I won it for mommy and then she said “Oh thanks, you can keep It in your room though.” I was okay with that. We named him Pukey JR. Then mommy and I went on the Tilt-a-Whirl which was under maintenance but we were the first people on the Tilt-a-Whirl since the whole day. It wasn’t a surprise but every time mommy wants to go on the Tilt-a-Whirl she gets sick. The last ride of the day was the Wacky Worm. We had a fun day at Delgrosso’s.

(BONUS!!!) The day before Delgrosso’s daddy and I went to Michael’s then Ulta to get mommy a present for Mothers Day. I really wanted a sticker book for while we are going to Delgrosso’s and in the car  for 2 hours. Daddy wondered how much it was I said 13 US DOLLARS and 20 CANADIAN DOLLARS. He said “OH HELL NO I BUY ENOUGH S*** FOR YOU!” I threw a fit the whole way into Ulta and I put on makeup in there and daddy was pissed. On the way back home from Delgrosso’s we went to a restaurant called Valley Dairy. Our waitress was named Sarah and some waiter was basically doing our whole service because Sarah was slow and having a rough ,rough day. (Speaking of having a rough day, Sarah in my class was having a rough day because her nose was bleeding like all day Tuesday and Wednesday.)

Sarah finally came to our service and asked for our order. After dinner I ordered a Clown Sundae and I sadly made fun of it and mommy said Sarah was having a rough day. I liked the sundae though that’s all that matters.

Quick! Let’s huff the fuck out of this blog post.

• Wendy and I had lunch at Villa Reale on Friday and she let me have the leftover pizza, and kept saying, “MAKE SURE YOU REMEMBER TO TAKE IT HOME TONIGHT” and I felt so panicked about forgetting and letting her down, so I had to write myself a note on my hand, and then I drew a picture as an extra reminder because I’m 35 and you can’t tell me what to do. (But really, who can forget about pizza?)
  • Speaking of pizza, I know that it’s like super trendy all of a sudden to be a pizza connoisseur, and I love me some pizza too, but I’m still grilled cheese’s #1. Also, I’m super picky about pizza and do not subscribe to the “even bad pizza is good pizza” ideology. (I mean, I’ll still eat it. Usually*.)
    • *I threw an entire pizza across the house one time because I hated it. (It had onions on it. CRUNCHY ONIONS.) Ask Henry. It was during our first year dating and he came back after that, for some reason.

• Can you believe Henry had the audacity to send me this text this morning? I was like, “FUCK OFF YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO” so I left the house without a “light jacket.” I figured I would be OK because I was wearing a sweater. Wrong. It was pretty chilly. So then I called Henry on my walk to the trolley and complained about being chilly because I’m 35 and you can’t tell me what to do!!
• Yesterday, I bailed out Todd at work (as usual! It’s hard work being everyone’s savior), so he was calling me She-Ra, which made me super happy. But then today, he said it again and I realized he was actually saying “She-ro,” like a female hero, and I mean, that was still cool but it’s no She-Ra. So then Todd was like, “WTF is a She-Ra, anyway?” and Amber¹ and I were like, “GTFO how do you not know who She-Ra is, she’s the motherfucking Princess of Power, for fuck’s sake” so then that turned into an early morning discussion and I felt inspired to make a She-Ra Glenn. While I was drawing it, I had some mad deja vu, so I checked the poster board of orginal Glenns and sure enough, I had already made a She-Ra Glenn in 2012. “Way to be redundant,” Glenn mumbled.

• Speaking of awesome 80’s cartoons, we also discussed our annoyance at the new Jem and the Holograms movie coming out this fall. First, Sandy and I yelled to each other about it across the floor and then when Amber¹ got here later, she and I talked about it too, so then I told Allison that if there is one thing she takes away from work today, I hope it’s that broads in their 30s are very upset about the Jem and the Holograms movie. Of course Allison was like, “I don’t even know what Jem is because I’m not an old person.”

• My friend Kelly tweeted this to me the other day and I was like FUCK YES and then rubbed it in Henry’s face. He was like, “OK, I never said I didn’t like them.” Seriously though, I 100% don’t expect people to like the music I post on here, or even bother listening to it in the first place, so when something like this happens, I feel like a tiny victory over Top 40 music has been won. <3
  • P.S. It occurred to me that I didn’t ask Kelly if I could post this, so I used some trusty Catwangs to protect her Twitter identity from you fools.

• Here is a photographical quad of my child whining and sweating. This was pre-Ulta melt-down on Saturday. Sticker book or not, I don’t think Henry really stood a chance that night. When Chooch gets in a mood, NOTHING HELPS.
• Henry was apparently “mad” at me all day yesterday (lol) but he still picked me up from work and proceeded to “ignore me” which just made me crack up, so then he started cracking up too because HE CAN’T STAY MAD AT MY ADORABLE TURTLE FACE.

• #SPOONSELFIE. Chooch was angry about this one when he saw it. #HenryJr. The novelty of The Spoon has not worn off yet.
• So, two years ago, we were “Those People” who got suckered into buying some vacation package at the COUNTY FAIR. The COUNTY FAIR, you guys. Anyway, it was for a few nights at some resort in Williamsburg, VA and it is totally one of those timeshare things where you have to sit through some excruciating presentation. But, it was cheap, the resort is beautiful, and we got the Busch Gardens hook-up, which is clearly the only reason Williamsburg would ever be on my radar. We only have two years to use it and Henry FINALLY made our reservations for my birthday week in July and I am so fucking stoked about this because once we’re done tearing shit up in Virginia, we’re making our way down to Savannah and Tybee Island to meet up with my amazing gypsy friend Octavia and her family! I love planning vacations around out-of-town friends. One day, I WILL MEET YOU ALL.
  • I originally said that Henry has to sit through this timeshare thing on his own, but he was like, “Oh no no no this was your idea and we both have to do it” and at first I was like, “I’m 35 and you can’t tell me what to do” but then I pictured the giggle-vomiting that’s bound to happen once I’m in that room. YOU ASKED FOR IT, HENRY.

• ^Sign of a good weekend! The events that these wristbands belong to will be written about later this week (I promise, Monica!). They were some good times!

• Yesterday was Janna’s birthday! Bottoms up, you Robitussin lush!

• Chooch waited until 9:00PM Sunday night to try to learn how to crochet. I’m sure you can guess how that went. Lots of rage and tears. “TAKE ME TO CHRIS AND MONICA’S SO THEY CAN HELP ME!” he wailed. Henry was like, “Sure. I don’t have a problem with that. They might, though.”

Ciao for now!

Kurt Travis – “It’s All Over”

I was revisiting the latest Kurt Travis solo album last night (“Everything Is Beautiful”) and forgot how much I loved it, especially THISSONG OHGODBESTILLMYHEART. Chooch and I were watching live performances of it on YouTube (and also PVRIS interviews, because Chooch and I are scene girls); we love taking over the TV and making Henry sit sadly in a corner, wishing he was watching some dumb show on Spike TV.

“Maybe if it was a live Judas Priest video, you would care,” I said.

“Yeah, because that’s what I do in my spare time: watch live Judas Priest videos,” Henry snapped.

Anyway, this song is everything, please listen. (If you hate it I’M SORRY. I DID NOT WRITE THIS SONG.) I can’t wait to see Kurt again soon. (Ideally, not with Jonny Craig next time*.)

*OMG this is a Henry guest post and it’s worth reading if you’re a fan of Henry being angry and forced to do things.

Meaty Thighs Are OK.

We were getting ready to leave for Delgrosso’s yesterday morning when I decided to have one of my standard “Wah, I’m so fat” shit fits. I always figure that Chooch isn’t paying attention to this shit, because why would he? My whining is not that interesting nor is it even slightly relevant. But then from the other room, while playing some stupid game on Xbox, he piped up with, “You’re not fat. You’re like Nicki Minaj. She has a big butt and thighs like you, and she’s still skinny. Kim Kardashian, too.” That weird little pep talk was a better Mother’s Day gift than the Urban Decay Vice palette that he and Henry got me!

Chooch’s Oh Snap Moment

On our way home from Delgrosso’s, we stopped at the mother of all Sheetz in Altoona. “Is this the Sheetz we went to that one time when we were fighting?” I asked Henry, referring to the miserable drive home he and I had from Allentown, PA last Memorial Day weekend. Chooch chimed in from the backseat, “Well, mommy, that’s hard to say, because you guys are always fighting.” His tell-all is going to be something else. (Also, we are not ALWAYS fighting! It’s mostly just me fighting.)

Also, with the music I listen to and all of my mental issues, Chooch has heard A LOT of screaming over the years.

Pickle Spreadsheets

We stopped at Valley Dairy for dinner. At first, we thought it was going to be an issue because we had to wake Chooch up from a nap and he is a fucking beast when awakened, so before we were seated, things were pretty sketchy. But then the opposite personality won out and we ended up with Super Entertaining Giggle Fit Chooch. One of the things that made him lose his shit started with a pickle. “Don’t you like pickles?” he asked me, noting that I hadn’t eaten the pickle on my grilled cheese plate.

My mouth was full, so Chauvinistic Henry answered for me. “She likes pickles, but 98% of the time, she leaves them on her plate.” He was so eager to divulge these statistics about my pickle proclivity! I had no idea Henry had been keeping such close tabs on my gherkin grazing.

“What, are you keeping a spreadsheet?” I asked Henry snidely.

Chooch considered this for a statement and then asked, “What’s a spreadsheet? Is that what the doctor puts over a lady before she has a baby?”

I fucking lost it right there at that Valley Dairy table, over top of my grilled cheese and the pickle that had only 2% chance of exploring my digestive tract, next to Henry who for once was unable to keep a straight face, and then Chooch started choking because he was laughing so hard, too.

“What?” Chooch laughed, trying to play innocent. “I see those all the time on the shows daddy watches.”

“Oh, he’s watching A Baby Story again, then?” I asked, and Henry just frowned. He only lets himself laugh for so long, you know. Then it’s back on the red eye to Frown Town.

Chooch and his “clown” sundae.

Stickers Make Chooch Pretty

I kept hearing about some sticker book that Henry wouldn’t buy Chooch at the craft store Saturday night. I felt bad at first, because I was hugely into stickers when I was his age, and I fondly told them about all of the sticker books I had, and the one that was especially for scratch-n-sniff, and how I used to stuff them all in a big purple tote bag that started to rip in one corner because so many sticker books were sardined in there. I heard Chooch emit a disgusted sigh; he hates when I get nostalgic because the theme is almost always Erin’s Charmed Childhood Where She Got Everything She Wanted. EXCEPT THE UNCONDITIONAL LOVE OF MY MOM, CHOOCH. (He doesn’t care about that yet.)

“What kind of sticker book did you want?” I asked Chooch.

“It was Pokémon and—-”

“Oh,” I waved him off. “I wouldn’t have bought it for you either. That sounds dumb.”

He started to get real defensive and tried to explain all of the merits of this dumb sticker book, and Henry sighed heavily and dragged his hands down his face.

“This is what I went through all last night,” Henry said. “We left Michaels and he threw a fit in the middle of Ulta when I was trying to buy your Mother’s Day present.”

Chooch started giggling uncontrollably as Henry told the tale of the tantrum, because there’s little Chooch enjoys more in life than hearing about what a spoiled brat he is and how he embarrasses us. So while Henry told me about how Chooch LAYED IN  THE MIDDLE OF THE STORE WHINING and how Henry turned around just in time  to see him applying one of the tester lipsticks straight on his mouth, Chooch was nearly swallowing his tongue from laughing so hard.

Half the restaurant was staring at us because sometimes it’s hard to tell if he’s crying or laughing.

“This is what it’s like to be around you and Corey, by the way!” Henry said accusatorily.

“And then I was smearing eye shadow on my fingers like nail polish!” Chooch wailed, reaching the point of hiccups. He was laughing so hard that we could see the cherry from his clown sundae (made shoddily by our waitress Sarah who was having a really bad day so I made Henry leave her a nice tip but mostly because she reminded me of Lynn Gunn from PVRIS) resting precariously on his tongue, a choking hazard lying in wait.

Henry grumpily told me that he had to practically bathe Chooch in makeup remover before they left the store. This whole scene was hilarious to me, that the catalyst was a fucking Pokémon sticker book that he is STILL talking about! So now Chooch and I were both laughing our faces off and Henry was so uncomfortable.

These are the things that I want to remember the most about Mother’s Day.

7 comments

This is my new favorite thing & I get so gleeful over it. He busts me 75% of the time now though, even when I think I’m being slick. “Did you get your damn picture?” he’ll mutter.  

The “Henry Has to Rest His Glasses On Top of His Head In Order to Look at His Phone” shot.

BONUS VIDEO: The “Ignoring the Pretend Concert I Have Going On In Front of Him” live action shot.

The “Henry Photo-Bombed Our Spoon Selfie” shot.

The “Henry’s Making Me Iced Coffee Because I’m ‘Too Weak'” shot.

The “Henry’s Playing Some Stupid Video Game in a Spoon” shot.

The “Driving Miss Erin to DelGrosso’s Amusement Park” shot.

The “Yeah bitch, buy us that ice cream” shot.

The “Being a Good Boy & Calling His Mama on Mother’s Day” shot.

The “Too Lame to Ride the Wacky Worm” shot.

The “We’re on the Crazy Mouse But Where’s Henry?” shot.

The “Welp, Chooch is Riding the Pirate Ship So I Guess I’ll Have to Eat His Ice Cream Cone” shot.

The “Holding Our Shit While We’re on the Wacky Worm Again” shot.

The “Washing Windows with Vinegar Which Is ‘Just As Good As Windex But Safer'” shot.

Disclaimer: I can’t write objectively about Dance Gavin Dance and this post is all over the place because I’m like a little kid who just ate three meals of candy.

Before I get into the juicy details of last week’s Dance Gavin Dance show, please indulge me while I explain the sordid history of this band and what it has been like to be a fan: I go through a lot of phases, musically, but my love for Dance Gavin Dance has only gotten stronger over the years. From the moment I first heard them in my car, driving home from Cincinnati in the winter of 2008, I was entranced. I had just randomly downloaded a bunch of their stuff based on their band name and the fact that they were listed on PureVolume as post-hardcore and that is MY FAVORITE GENRE. (The amount of times I have struggled to explain what ‘post-hardcore” means to people at work is hilarious; it’s kind of like the new “wtf is emo?” in that it’s almost impossible for me to put into layman’s terms. Wiki it, I guess? Good luck!) Downtown Battle Mountain is right up there on my Stranded on an Island album list.

This was also, sadly, the start of a 7-year relationship-threatening obsession with their original clean vocalist, Jonny Craig. Thankfully, he’s no longer in DGD, which is great because I hate him now and he could have easily destroyed DGD.

Jonny era:

To this day, I have yet to hear another band that sounds even remotely like them and, in my opinion, they have only gotten better with age. The only time my love for them was strained was after they kicked out Jonny for the first time and replaced him with Kurt Travis for two albums. Look, I LOVE Kurt Travis. But during that time, their screamer Jon Mess had also left the band and his role has always been one of my favorite parts of DGD. (In fact, I think I actually fangirl over Jon more than anyone else in the band.) I only saw them live twice during the Kurt Travis-era, and ironically once was a tour where past, present and future DGD vocalists were all on: Jonny Craig was there with Emarosa, Kurt with DGD, and Tilian was there with Tides of Man. (This was in 2009, and it was also the first time I ever saw Of Mice & Men and then fell in love with Of Machines, who are sadly no longer together.) It just didn’t click with me, though I have much more appreciation for the Kurt albums now than I did then.

Kurt era:

The summer of 2010, they brought Jonny back for a new album and a tour and this was supposed to be their swan song; Jon Mess came back too and it was like the biggest music orgasm for me. I got to see Jonny perform with DGD twice after that and it was like a dream come true, and then they announced that they were going to write another new album with Jonny and it seemed like their future was so bright. Except that Jonny is a forever fuck-up and they ended up having to kick him out again, in the middle of a tour. It seemed like this was it for them for sure. Maybe Jon, Will, and Matt would just make their side project, Secret Band, their priority.

But then they announced that Tilian Pearson, formerly of Tides of Man, would be their new singer. I was on the fence. In 2011, I saw Emarosa with Tilian as an interim singer; Jonny, who was trying to be in Emarosa and DGD at the same time that year, was forced off the Emarosa tour and into detox on the same day as the Pittsburgh show. Tilian’s brother’s band at the time was also on that tour, so I guess that’s how Tilian came into play. Tilian did fine…but he wasn’t Jonny. And this is how I felt the first time I saw him with DGD at the Altar Bar. It felt wrong to me. But you guys, when they eventually recorded new music with Tilian, everything fell into place and I made a statement that I never thought I would say: Tilian is my favorite DGD singer. They just sound so cohesive with him, and he has really gotten more comfortable with performing the old stuff too. All of that said, it has been a really rewarding time to be a DGD fan. I’m Team Tilian, and DGD remains one of my favorite bands of all time.

(Henry is probably reading this and thinking, “Trust me, this is the short version.”)

Tilian era:

ANYWAY! I’m so excited because their second album with Tilian just came out in April and they were here in Pittsburgh last Sunday! I had butterflies in my stomach all weekend and kept shouting, “AREN’T YOU SO EXCITED?!?” in Henry’s face. Surprisingly, he doesn’t hate them like you would expect him to. He admitted a few years ago that he kind of liked them and I just knew it. The Robot With Human Hair Pt 2 was his ringtone for me for awhile, for Christ’s sake! He just doesn’t like being the token Old Man at all of their shows, is all.

• Henry was annoyed because instead of sitting in the car and waiting for doors to open, he had to stand in line with all of the kids. To be fair, the average age was probably about 24, but I guess when you’re as old as Henry, even that constitutes as a “kid.” There was this one teenage boy in front of us, though. His name was Collin and I know this because his mom pulled up alongside the line in her mom-wagon and started shouting, “Collin! Collin! COLLIN!” until he dejectedly left the line and walked over to her car with his head down. “I can’t wait to do that shit to Chooch,” I laughed. “Yeah, except you’ll be calling from another part of the line,” Henry mumbled. And this is probably true. Unless he starts listening to crappy bands when he’s older.
• I had a tiny container of miniature Altoids, and I tried to get Henry to pretend like they were Grown-Up drugs with me, but he was like, “Don’t be stupid.”
• As soon as we got inside Mr. Small’s, I saw Christopher Kim at the Polyphia merch booth and I got so excited! He recently made waves for leaving Jonny Craig’s current band, Slaves, and has been pretty candid on Twitter about how fucked that band is so of course I love him because Team Anyone But Slaves. I was too shy to say anything to him so I took the creepy way out and tweeted about seeing him and then he favorited it so basically, we met.
• Henry plied me with Angry Orchard in an attempt to get me to stop talking a mile a minute. I WAS SO EXCITED!!!!
• Stolas was the opening band. We saw them last September with Hail the Sun and Icarus the Owl and I loved them immediately. They’re on Will Swan’s label, Blue Swan, and are part of this intricate, technical post-hardcore sub genre that I feel like DGD should take full credit for; they’re the godfathers of this style at this point. I’ve never been a fan of prog-rock in the traditional sense, but when elements of this style is car-crashed with a post-hardcore foundation, it makes me want to start punching faces. Stolas was the perfect way to start this night. My favorite part about them is that some parts of their songs downright sound like incantations. Henry’s review: “No.”
• I like to call Henry “bae” sometimes, ironically of course, just to annoy him. But when I’m really giddy, and I was Really Giddy, I apparently called him my ride or die. “Can I choose ‘or die’?” he mumbled, while continuing to look at whatever uninteresting info his phone was showing him.
• A band I used to love was playing whilePolyphia was setting up and I played Henry’s favorite game with him, which is “Trying to Get Henry to Guess the Band & Making Him Feel Like Shit When He Fails.” Here are the clues I gave him:
  • This album is called The Ugly Organ.
  • Henry hates them.
  • Tim Kasher is their singer.
  • His other band is The Good Life.
  • We saw them at Coachella in 2004.
  • Saddlecreek.
  • “My ego’s like my stomach– it keeps shitting what I feed it.”
    • If you guessed Cursive, then you have one more point than Henry does.
• Hail the Sun is amazing. That’s literally the note I wrote myself in my phone. This was my fourth time seeing them and they just keep getting better. We saw their drummer/singer Donovan outside of the venue when we were in line and even Henry knew who he was because HE CAN’T ESCAPE THIS SCENE. Imagine how boring his life would be if he was with a girl who only listened to the radio. Boring, but probably a lot happier and with less headaches, haha. Henry’s review: “*shrugged* It’s too early in the morning for this. You should have been a news reporter.”
• The crowd was so much better than at the Circa Survive show earlier in the week. I was basically in love with every one there. Maybe those really were Grown-Up Drugs in my Altoids tin….
  • The cider also helped.
• Polyphia, holy shit. This was my first time seeing them and they blew my fucking mind. Like CHON, they’re also 100% instrumental. The crowd went apeshit over them and I think it says a lot about the talent of a band when they can capture the attention of young people without gimmicks or, you know, a vocalist. Henry did not like them, but that means nothing.

And then……..DGD!

Here are the notes I had in my phone:

• THUG CITY
• EVERYTHING IS AMAZING
• PERFECT CROWD
• JONNY WHO
• TILIAN IS THE BEST

Oh no, tangent: What I love the most about DGD fans is that most of them are music geeks in that they understand and appreciate the technicality involved in DGD’s music. These are the kinds of people who want to meet Will Swan after the show to talk about time signatures and ask him about his pedals. This is why I think that DGD is so fucking underrated. They’ve been unfairly marginalized and stuffed into a generic scene pigeonhole, which is why I think that their fan base remains young. Young people keep their minds open when it comes to music. Granted, there were some people at the show around my age, but it made me wonder: why hasn’t their fan base grown with them? Why do people hit a certain age in their 20s and just abandon what they used to love? I hope that doesn’t happen to me, ever.

DON’T PANIC, I’VE GOT A PLAN:

Tilian can sing any of the Jonny-era songs with motherfucking panache.

I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY! This post is all over the place, just like their music, and just like my brain. One of the things that I miss most about Barb not working at The Law Firm anymore is that I wasn’t able to go to work the next day and vomit all of my feelings onto her desk. She was always so good about patiently listening to me jaw off about DGD! I remember telling her a long time ago that I liked this music because it panders to the dysfunction in my head; it’s what my brain would play if you plopped it on a turntable and put the needle down.

“I just love Jon Mess so much!” I shouted to Henry. “Did you know he’s a genius?” I LOVE REMINDING HENRY OF THAT! I have never loved a screamer so much before.

I didn’t stop moving the entire night and my body spent the next two days reminding me of Sunday’s perfection. I think I smiled all day long on Monday. MONDAY! Come at me, work week; I just saw DGD.

I’m so proud of this band for powering through all of the shit and turmoil and managing to create two beautiful works of art with Tilian. It feels so good to be a DGD fan. One of these days, I’m going to finally get that Robot with Human Hair tattoo. He might be holding a sword-speared strawberry.

Henry’s review: “I’ve heard all of these songs. Many times.”

**Party Peeps**

• Zac
• Lucy
• Olivia & Sophia
• Owen
• Jolee
• Sharyn
• Harland
• Kara
• Chris and Monica
• Corey
• Janna

Chooch decided a while back that he wanted to have a laser tag birthday party, even though none of us have played before. Believe me, I was fine with this because it meant SMALL. As in: FEW KIDS. I’m not sure who was more excited the day of his party: Chooch or me.

Once everyone arrived, our personal party coordinator came in and led us to the laser tag holding cell, where she bumbled through the rules of the game and pretty much had us utterly confused. We split into two teams without hesitation: Awesome Adults vs. Dumb Kids. And then Janna “accidentally” gouged the back of my arm with her stupid laser gun and I was like “Bitch, best count your blessings that we’re on the same damn team.”

But then I noticed that after Henry was done helping all of the kids suit up, he stayed over on their side. “C’mon, Erin. They have to have at least one adult or it won’t be fair!”

Yeah, exactly! Why give them a chance!?

I was instantly nervous about this. Henry and I being on opposing teams means that Super Competitive Extreme Asshole Erin comes out. I was hoping that we could be on the same team so that I wouldn’t have to get stressed out and possibly risk eviction from Laser Storm and/or losing a friend. (I really think this is why my friend Stacey hasn’t come to one of my game nights since 2009. I get real ugly.) So look, I’m competitive in general, but as soon as the competition involves Henry as an opponent, I take it to new levels. Any old friends reading this remember the dreaded New Years Eve Trivial Pursuit debacle that resulted in me flipping over the game board (the table was too heavy to flip) and screaming about how everyone hates me all over some question about Yoshi? And then spending the next year constantly bringing up the fact that not a single person there that night cared enough to stop me from driving home drunk and psychotic?

O MEM’RIES.

My mantra is always, “I don’t care if I lose as long as Henry doesn’t win.” And the sad thing is that he genuinely always wants me to win!

I’m sorry, Henry fans, but as soon as our respective team doors opened to the laser tag arena, Henry went from being my loving life partner/father of my child/all-around Jeeves to motherfucking Bin Laden. I COULDN’T WAIT TO SHOOT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM!

One of the twins was smart and chose my team. She said she didn’t want to be on her sister’s team, and I understood. SHE WANTED TO WIN.

Once we were in the darkened room, a strange combination of panic and adrenaline melted over me and I realized I forgot everything we learned, all of the rules, all of the objectives. But then I remembered that I had but one mission: KILL HENRY. So I put my blinders on to everything but Henry’s dumb head and I shot that motherfucker every single chance I got. I even did the whole run-dive-shoot thing at one point and sincerely hurt my hip but I think my shot hit him so it was obviously worth it.

Oh, and no big deal, but my team won.

Because Henry is a cheap-ass, he only paid for ONE ROUND of laser tag. And apparently one round is only like 15 minutes! (Which apparently is long enough for my hair to stick to my neck with war-sweat.) Luckily, we had the party room for an hour and a half though, so we didn’t have to kick anyone out after the game was over.

Back in the party room, Party Warden passed out everyone’s score cards and I was pleased to see that I at least beat Janna. I don’t think any of the kids so much as glanced at their score cards, but us adults studied and compared ours obsessively for a good ten minutes. Monica was extremely disturbed by the inaccuracy of her score card and I think it came close to ruining her whole day. “Apparently, it doesn’t matter how many times you hit base, because it’s worth ZERO POINTS,” she announced bitterly.

Asshole Henry shot me one time more than I shot him, so that sucked. But the real victory was that Henry was NOT the MVP of the whole entire game—Corey was! SUCK IT, HENRY!

But then Corey kept bragging about being MVP and I was like, “UGH SUCK IT, COREY!”

I took this picture shortly after I burst Corey’s MVP bubble by snapping, “Whatever, at least I can see colors.” #mybrotheriscolorblind

In this picture, you will note Henry’s naturally-sour face looking even more acerbic. Apparently, he had taste-tested the Sierra Mist and was appalled. “IT HAS NO TASTE!” he said repeatedly until people eventually started looking around the room and saying, “Do you hear something? Is someone talking to us? Oh, it’s just Henry.”

He ended up sending back the Sierra Mist because it was “just carbonation.” He was a huge dick about it too. The party warden was like, “Shucks sir, I have no idea what you’re bitching about but sure, I’ll bring you another pitcher if it means you’ll stop twitching your molester ‘stach in my general direction.” That broad could not wait for our 90 minutes to expire.

If Henry had a blog, his version of this day would be all about how he saved the children from imbibing defective soft drinks, spent so much money in order to buy his son’s happiness, and probably some boring anecdote about when he was in THE SERVICE not fighting in a war. Laser tag was probably more dangerous and combative than anything he did while “SERVING.”

Included in the party package was a cake, and it was actually not as disgusting as I imagined it would be. We sang the weirdest version of Happy Birthday to Chooch, and I have no idea who set the tone, but it sounded like a fucking funeral dirge. (See also: Nick Cave singing Gregorian chants to a dead person.) I thought maybe it was just me, but afterward, everyone seemed to mutually agree that it was weird and the party warden looked nervous.

In this picture, Monica is using the calculator on her phone to work out what her actual score was since none of her base hits made it on her score card.

All of the kids got tokens for the game room afterward, and there were a bunch left over so the rest of us practically mauled Henry for some.

Monica was obsessed with this old broad with her nose in a Danielle Steele book who had the audacity to make disgusted scowls at all of the children running around making gleeful sounds. She was sitting so close to the skee ball row that it’s surprising that no one tried to roll one of the balls off her surly, disapproving face.

“Seriously? You expect to be able to read your book peacefully in a LASER TAG ARENA?!” Monica scoffed. “Please take a picture of her,” she whispered to me.

I don’t remember being so terrible at skee ball. I gave the rest of my tokens to some child.

Chris texted me before the party and said that one of the gifts she bought him might be a bit girlish, and should she wait until the other kids weren’t around before giving it to him? I said no, because I’m always up for watching my child being humiliated, but it turned out to be a “yummy crochet” kit and he could barely contain all of the stoked feelings. Chooch mentioned not too long, at dinner with Chris and Monica, that he wanted to learn how to crochet (specifically, the Japanese style of crocheting, amigurumi). Of course, this conversation turned weird, with the suggestion that Chris become possessed by the ghost of Henry’s late grandmother in order to teach Chooch how to crochet.

Hey, if you read the post about Chooch’s actual birthday, then you already know the spoon story. But here it is again, anyway, BECAUSE I LOVE TELLING IT! We had a small family party on Chooch’s real birthday, and by the end of the night, he was exhausted and cranky. Some might say his “inner Erin” was coming out. When he walked past Corey on his way to bed, he stopped and in this totally shitty, sarcastic tone, said, “Oh and thanks for much for the present, Corey.”

“Your mom said I could just bring your present to your laser tag party next week!” Corey cried defensively.

“Whatever, it’s probably just going to be a spoon,” Chooch spat in a spoiled tone. And as he began to walk away, he paused and added, “For me to shove up my ass!” He wasn’t even trying to be funny, but Corey, Janna and I all fucking lost it. It was late, we were slap-happy, and then that happened and it turned into A Thing.

Corey made a note in his phone that just said “Get spoon.”

And oh, he got a spoon, alright. Corey had it tucked in the gift bag with the actual presents he bought Chooch, but I suggested that we take the real presents out and hide them, so it looked like literally all he got Chooch was a spoon.

When Chooch pulled it out of the bag, he was so confused. I couldn’t believe he had forgotten in a week! His cousin Zac said, “Is that for your mom to beat you?” and all of his friends were just like, “Your parties are so weird.” It wasn’t until he read the card that he realized it was from Corey and then it all kind of clicked, so he stormed off to “have words” with him. Total highlight of the party.

The Spoon. It has become something of a phenomenon in our house. We take #spoonselfies now and Henry is making a plaque for it so that when Chooch isn’t toting it around, he’ll have a place to hang it for the night.

In this short video, you can see the tail end of Monica saving my face from acquiring a basketball imprint, laser tag sounds (that’s my dumb voice screaming “OH MY G—-” at the end), and the Unwrapping of the Spoon. I wish I had a video of the super-sad Zoloft commercial happy birthday serenade, but COREY deleted it because he didn’t like how his VOICE sounded! Ugh, the worst!

***

Chooch just strutted past in his underwear and I asked him if he had anything to add while I’m writing this. He said, “Yeah, thanks for the spoon, Corey.” And then as he ascended the staircase to his room, he mumbled, “I love it.”

I still have no idea how we managed to not get kicked out.

HAHA SIKE. This is just another post about Warped Tour and not actually the maniacal manifesto/illegible murder confession that I think some people (Henry) have been nervously expecting.

Every time I look at the Warped Tour lineup for 2015, I feel like I might have immaculately conceived. The only downside is that there is no way I’m going to be able to see every single band on my list; there are just too many and some are bound to overlap. #musicfestivalproblems

In all of my obsessive Warped Tour thinking/planning/daydreaming, I uncovered some photos of Chooch that I never posted from his first time at Warped Tour in 2013. They were lost in some random desktop folder, probably Henry’s fault.

Christofer Drew is offering 45-minute songwriting classes this summer and Chooch and I have been talking about whether he wants me to sign him up for that or not. It costs extra, and if he’s going to get all starstruck like the last time he met Christofer, then that’s kind of a waste.

Chooch was all pissed off a few weeks ago because he was waiting for the bus that takes him to the after school program, when some middle school girl walked past him, saw that he was wearing a Pierce the Veil shirt, and said, “You probably don’t even listen to Pierce the Veil.” Bitch, he was singing Isles and Glaciers songs when he was still sitting in a CAR SEAT, so shut your dumb face.

If she only knew that he was practically born into this scene! Last night, I was YouTubing live Dance Gavin Dance videos while Chooch was putting together some Minecraft Lego thing, when he said, “Put on something from when Kurt Travis was the singer.” And then we watched an entire A Lot Like Birds show.

Because clearly, Chooch is a poser.

I hope we see that girl at the Sleeping With Sirens show next month. You know, if she was able to get tickets before they sold out in less than 5 days.

I posted a picture of my Warped Tour ticket (it’s the special 3D collectors ticket with Choonimals artwork, duh) on Instagram and WARPED TOUR REGRAMMED ME!

^^^^ Totally the apogee of my Instagram tenure.

TWO MORE MONTHS. TWO MORE MONTHS. TWO MORE MOTHERFUCKING MONTHS!!!

I haven’t had as much time to paint lately (or blog or take pictures or make greeting cards or breathe for that matter), and I still have some more custom paintings to finish, but I’m hoping to start filling up the shop again real soon! If they’d only let me paint at work, I could get so much more done.

 But here are three things that I have recently completed!

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Do you like SNACKS?

Do you like SPACE?

Then maybe you might also like my painting Snax in Space.

It features various snacks in space. It’s snacky and spacey all in one place.

And it can be all yours for $35, 20% of which will go to Animal Friends of Pittsburgh if purchased before the end of May! Click here to purchase thru Etsy! It’s for a good cause!

In related news, I just finished up a custom pet angel painting. Super sad story behind it, and I was honored to paint these furry babes.

I also made a small typography-type painting for a co-worker to give to a friend; it had some of her favorite sayings on it and it was definitely out of my wheel house, big I had a lot of fun making it. I stupidly didn’t take a picture (it was a rush order), but you can see part of it in the background of this picture:

Sorry. I’ve got a one-track post-hardcore mind and seeing Dance Gavin Dance on Sunday only made it worse. These pictures have nothing to do with either post-hardcore or Dance Gavin Dance, but they are some things from the weekend that made me smile. AND SMILING IS GOOD FOR KEEPING AWAY BEES AND PEOPLE WHO SMELL LIKE CABBAGE WHILE SHOWING OFF YOUR FILLINGS ALL AT ONCE.

1. Henry’s mom Judy had a birthday on Saturday! We went to Kelly’s to have some birthday cake coconut cream pie and it was super awesome. Henry is lucky to have such a good family, and I like spending time with them.

2. The next day we picked Judy up to bring her to our house and she had red hair! Red hair, Jude don’t care. This is her sitting on my couch, reading Alternative Press, even after mumbling, “I don’t know a single band in this thing!” Henry was like, “I WISH I didn’t know any of those bands!”

3. SNICKERDOODLE WAFFLES! Henry really needs to work on his plating skills, but the bigger picture here is that he used the waffle maker! He was annoyed though because the recipe I gave him was from A Beautiful Mess and he absolutely despises those broads. (They get on my last nerve too, yet I still go back for more.) Anyway, I love my waffle maker! Maybe I’ll eventually learn how to use it on my own so that I can make some really fucking weird shit!

4. You know what else I really fucking love? MY NEW (TO ME) CAR! I brought it home Saturday morning and Chooch was like, “Yeah, I’m riding with her. See ya, Henry!” And Henry sadly put-putted home in our crappy Focus which is due to die any day now. Chooch did some laps around Brookline, blasting PVRIS, before going home. It was awesome. When Corey saw it later that day, he was like, “Oh wow, and I love the color! Black is nice!” and I was like, “IT’S GREEN LOL” because I love to rub his color blindness in his face any chance I get!

The salesman I dealt with (Jarrod — he was awesome) called me on Monday and my first thought was, “OMG WHAT DID I DO WHY DO THEY WANT THE CAR BACK!?!?” but he just wanted to ask me to write a review on the dealership on some website. So I did because PLEASE DON’T TAKE MY CAR AWAY FROM ME. We’ve already imprinted and there’s no going back now!

5. <3!!

But you know what I love the most about the car? THE STEREO! We were actually supposed to go to a Nissan dealer and get a Sentra; I had already talked to the finance guy and had been pre-approved, but the day before, Henry saw this car at a different dealership and knew that I would want it based solely on the stereo. I can play Spotify on it and the speakers bring a tear to my eye. Our old car makes so much noise when we drive it (it has something to do with the motor mount? That’s a thing, right?) that we could barely even hear ourselves talk, let alone enjoy music. And like duh, music is the most important thing!

Meanwhile, the other dealership is still calling me and I scream a little every time because the guy was so UGH to talk to, and I just know he’s pissed that I didn’t show up. “Just answer and tell him  that you bought a car from somewhere else!” Glenn advised, tired of hearing me yelp every time the number shows up on my phone.

“Orrrr,” I countered, “I can just tell him I filed for bankruptcy.”

“Or you could just tell the truth,” Glenn sighed.

OR I CAN JUST KEEP ON NOT ANSWERING.

6. Spoon selfies!

7. The weather was too perfect on Sunday not to spend the majority of the day outside. We took Chooch to a bike trail and cringed every time he almost caused biker pile-ups, and then some dickhead biker was all WATCH OUT FOR THAT LARGE SNAKE ON THE ROAD UP AHEAD! and he totally got me all up in arms for nothing because THERE WAS NO SNAKE and it reminded me of the time Henry and I were walking up the street and some guy screamed out the car window, “YOUR SHOE’S UNTIED!” to me but my shoe was not untied! It didn’t even have any laces! And then I aggressively wiped some dandelions down Henry’s arm and he looked like he had Big Bird shit stains all over his stupid elderskin.

8. Chooch, modeling the t-shirt that Chris and Monica got him for his birthday. Those two are extremely in tune with my kid’s interests!

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In addition to all of this, we had a party at Laser Storm and then closed out the weekend with DANCE GAVIN DANCE at Mr. Small’s, which I am still smiling about like a clown with a cracked jaw. (?) These two events get their own posts, which I will joyfully write once I pluck my head out from the clouds. Sometimes, life sucks. And that’s OK, because it makes the good shit seem even goodier. That’s going to be the last line of the self-help e-book I’m writing. Spoiler alert, I guess.

I’m hard-pressed to come up with any complaints about the weekend, other than: “it ended.”

9. And now here’s a Dance Gavin Dance song because we can all stand to have a little post-hardcore in our day:

Please make way for the special invented armor.
Mental protection if reality is ragin harder.
Hello mister mime, hello medicine.
I believe denial makes me hella intelligent.