I know sometimes it sounds like my brilliant ideas are born from late nights rolling in a kiddy pool of cocaine, but I swear to BETTY FUCKING WHITE that my “It’s so easy” plan of driving a billion miles from Pgh to Atlanta to ride one goddamn rollercoaster actually ended up being something that was enjoyed in equal parts by ALL.

(OK, maybe more like 50% me, 25% each to Henry and Chooch – they don’t get excited about shit.)

By now, you know (and still don’t care) that my favorite roller coaster manufacturer is ROCKY MOUNTAIN CONSTRUCTION (RMC). When it was announced that they were building a brand new ground-up coaster (they are mostly renown for taking already-standing wooden coasters and making them insane feats of engineering) at this tiny family entertainment center outside of Atlanta called Fun Spot America, the coaster community went wild with confusion, speculation, and of course excitement falling in clumps out of cargo-pockets.

In America, RMCs generally only go to the big name parks, the Cedar Fairs, the Six Flags. This particular Fun Spot (there are two others in Florida) is essentially an arcade with some go-kart tracks and flat rides in an old, repurposed parking lot. The only coasters they already had was a janky jumble of track called Hurricane (the kind of coaster you’d expect to see in a traveling parking lot carnival, actually) and a standard kiddy coaster.

And now, a fucking beast of an RMC called ArieForce One, which just opened last March. I know we’re going on this big trip in a month, but I was like, “HENRY WE HAVE TO RIDE THIS THING BEFORE THE TRIP BECAUSE ALL THOSE THOOSIES ARE GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT AND I WANT TO BE IN THE KNOW!!!” Henry tried to talk me out of it, but in the end, I won.

Oh, and “Arie” is not a typo. It’s an homage to the surname of the family that bought this park several years ago, Arie. LEGEND HAS IT (it’s not a legend, it’s right there on FunSpot’s website), the patriarch of the Arie family was/is very into airplanes or whatever. Love it or hate it, RMC built a BEAUTIFUL ride to go along with the theme of flight and when you see this bad boy looming along the side of the road before the full park comes into view, how do you NOT gasp?? I mean, I imagine even if I wasn’t an enthusiast, if I knew NOTHING about this hunk of red and blue track, I would at least be inspired to look up WTF it was and probably start nagging Henry to pull over so we could ride it.

Obviously, we went straight to ArieForce One upon arrival. IT WAS A STATION WAIT. Actually, it could have been a walk-on if we weren’t trying to get either the front or back row, and even then, we barely had to wait because they were running two trains and we were next!

AHHHH!!!!

Chooch was like, “Oh boy, here we go with the station selfies. I am so excited. Yay me.” I ended up ditching Chooch and running up to the front to ride with Henry because otherwise, we’d have had to wait more cycle. So Chooch ended up riding with the single rider / enthusiast that was in front of us in the backrow.

Dude. I don’t know what to say other than IS THIS MY NEW FAVORITE RMC?!?! Holy shit, the things this coaster does seems illegal, honestly. There is this one part where you do a zero G roll / barrel roll over the arcade and it nearly gave me whiplash every time. It was my favorite moment but holy shit, the way you twirl between the structures, talk about head/limbs/everything chopper. Hoo boy!

DO YOU SEE HOW EMPTY THIS TRAIN IS?? It was like this all night! Walking onto an RMC is unheard of at any other park. I mean, for Christ’s sake, we’re lucky if we can get ONE RIDE on Steel Vengeance every time we go to Cedar Point because the line is usually consistently at 90+ minutes. (When it’s not breaking down.)

But on this day, it was us, maybe about 5 or 6 thoosies, and a handful of GP who caught on to the sheer majesty of this ride and knew that it was worth the multiple re-rides. The ride attendants were so great too!! The one guy asked us at one point how many rides we had gotten in so far and I honestly had lost count. I mean, we would ride 3-4x in a row, walk around and do some other things, and then go right back.

I will say that this coaster is tough to marathon though because the very ending has a quadruple double-down that is VIOLENT. And then it just slams you into the breakrun. Parts of my thighs had red marks on them from the sheer force of the restraints crushing into me every single time we reached that element. VERY EXTREME. I think this could be a one and done for the casual rider. You have to be a psycho to beg the attendants to let you stay on when you come back to the station and see no one is waiting for the row you’re sitting in. They allowed it every time!!

We got really lucky too because the weather forecast was calling for storms all evening. And actually, after we had gotten in our first two rides (front and back –  I think I actually preferred the front because it hurt less, lol), we had pissed around a but, checked out the arcade, rode some other rides, when we overheard the ride attendant for the janky coaster, Hurricane, get a call that said some of the rides needed to stop operations because lightning was spotted.

I was literally screaming, “Nooooooo!!!” thinking that we were only going to get those 2 rides on Arie, and were probably going to have to leave the park altogether if it started storming. This was only about an hour after we arrived too! I was big sad.

But then I was like, “Well, let’s just walk toward Arie just in case, you never know,” and right as we were walking that way, we passed someone who looked like he was In Charge as he was telling another park employee, “All clear of lightning” so then I was like “LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOO!!” and yep, just as we ran up the steps to the Arie station, they were just about to start sending trains again!

On one of our many rides, Chooch told me, “As we go over the hill, don’t look down, just look straight ahead. It makes it better,” and I thought this was just some dumb thing he had made up to see if I’d fall for it, but I did it and it made the butterfly sensation amplified by a lot, which made me crack up uncontrollably and then spit all over myself. So, then I was laughing even harder, which resulted in me being in tears by the time we careened into the brake run.

At one point, Henry and Chooch wanted to ride go-karts and I said, “OK, I guess I will just go walk around while you’re doing that” and walk around is exactly what I did – straight to ArieForce One!! I rode in the back by myself and one of the loner thoosies was in front of me, so we started talking on the brake run (ops were kind of slow so every time a train came back, it would idle on the brake run for a few minutes while the train in the station was loading). He was really cool but I’m not used to talking to people who actually care about this stuff so WORDS WERE JUST SOMERSAULTING out of my mouth at a pace which made me gasp for breath like an asthmatic. Honestly, I need to come up with a way to tap out of conversations, like putting a paper grocery bag over my head, askin a bee to sting my tongue, or just you know, saying, “Excuse me bye” and walking away.

As it was, we somehow ended up walking out of the station together, super awkwardly, and when he asked what my favorite park is, I BLANKED AND THEN SAID CEDAR POINT??? Cedar Point is NOT my favorite park!??! I feel like if I hadn’t been short-circuiting, I probably would have said Universal / Islands of Adventure or Busch Gardens Williamsburg?!?! And then I was telling him that Kennywood is my homepark and he said he had never heard of it so I was like, “Yeah, you should go sometime and ride Phantoms Revenge, it’s amazing” and he goes, “Who is the manufacturer?” and this is the part that you won’t care about if you don’t like coasters, but I was now in the position where I said to say, “Arrow….and then it was reworked by Morgan” and I could hear myself saying these words while watching the look of skepticism befall his face.

“Oh, OK,” he said.

“Yeah….you should look it up. Well, enjoy the rest of your night!” and then it’s a wonder I didn’t trip and fall into a garbage can in my haste to exit this conversation.

(Arrow is notorious in the coaster community for making pretty shitty, rough coasters and is now defunct. And Morgan is just whatever. So to try and sell the merits of a coaster manufactured by these two companies is pretty insane, but Phantom’s Revenge is the exception, ISTG. LOOK IT UP – COASTER ENTHUSIASTS COME TO KENNYWOOD FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD TO RIDE IT. IT’S CONSIDERED AN ELITE COASTER AND MOST THOOSIES HAVE IT IN THEIR TOP 25-50 LISTS. SO THERE.)

The night rides on this were masterful. CHEF’S KISS, BITCHES.

That ride attendant there in the front was my favorite!!! He never stapled us, he let us pull down the restraints ourselves and then only (GENTLY) pushed until the light on the screen turned green. Bless your heart, sir.

CAUGHT A CHOOCH SMILE. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT.

I love that you can see the ferris wheel from the back of the station!

That other ride attendant over there on the other side of the track is the one who kept permitting us to stay on for re-rides. I loved everyone associated with this ride, you guys. It was an EXCEPTIONAL experience.

Family selfie that only I will forever cherish!

Anyway, I will do a full FunSpot recap another time, but we all were in agreement that as usual, I have the best ideas and that this was 100% worth the 11 hour drive.

I think this was Chooch’s and my 11th RMC, and Henry’s 10th?

1. Lightning Rod
2. Storm Chaser
3. Steel Vengeance
4. Twister Timber
5. Outlaw Run (the one Henry doesn’t have because his back hurt, but we still made him drive us to Missouri lol)
6. Wicked Cyclone
7. Twisted Cyclone
8. Iron Gwazi (ugh this one MIGHT still be my fave??)
9. Goliath
10. Jersey Devil
11. ArieForce One

There are two more that we will potentially add to this list this year: Wildfire in Sweden next month, and hopefully at some point before the end of the year, I’d like to make it back out to Hershey to ride the brand new Wildcat’s Revenge but we’ll see how destitute we are upon return from this August trip hahaha ugh.

Here’s a round-up of June leftovers and whatever else from the desk of Erin R. Kelly, Unorganized Blogger.

1. Tennis

You guys, I am having the BEST TIME revisiting my old tennis days. I was so worried that picking up a racket after all this time (since the late 90s!) would have me being absolutely frustrated and a hot mess. Granted, I’m not saying I’m NOT a hot mess, but instead of being frustrating, I just feel so totally motivated to keep at it. My backhand slice is still marginally there! My serve is rusty AF but, as a wise old man named Henry once whispered down the mountainside: “If you practice, you will get better.”

Wow, thanks.

Chooch and I hit on the 4th of July and we actually had some great rallies going on! I’m really proud of him because he seems to genuinely like this and even joined a tennis clinic Monday night, where the instructor quickly realized, “Oh, you know what you’re doing” and gave him a better player to hit with. Chooch also learned proper serving techniques, which he used against me on Tuesday and I was impressed. You guys now I’m hypercritical of everyone and super competitive so for me to honestly say that I think he is doing great REALLY SAYS SOMETHING.

Then I found out that he originally had texted my brother the night before to see if he wanted to play on the 4th but Corey couldn’t. “Wow, so I’m an afterthought??” I cried.

“No!” Chooch said defensively. “I just didn’t think you’d want to play!”

Boy, your mother is always ready to play.

OK that sounded sleazy.

But you know what I mean!

I told him to text Corey and said, “That’s OK. I found a more challenging opponent anyway – your sister” but Chooch said he wasn’t trying to ignite any sort of sibling rivalry.

Obviously, I’m not trying to play competitively (YET, MOTHERFUCKERS) but I am fully onboard with doing all I can to get GOOD again. Mostly so that Chooch, once he surpasses me in skill which I’m sure will be coming soon, will want to keep playing against me because this is fun, you guys.

Last night after work, Henry and I went to one of the courts that has a tennis wall and I hit aggressively for a full hour. I was a sweaty monster mess but it was amazing and I honestly forgot how much I used to love this game until…I stopped loving this game.

Anyway, the picture up there is my Aunt Sharon and me – I think in Portugal – and I’m wearing my Glen Creek tennis shirt! That’s the club where I was a member back when my family was rich and we could do things like be members of tennis clubs. Sorry, Chooch. Public city courts for you or GTFO!

2. Name That Tune

2 weeks ago, Henry and I joined Megan and Eric at East End Brewing for Name that Tune. If you’re a veteran OHE reader going back to even my vagynafondue LJ days, you might remember East End as being the brewery that I totally lambasted in my review of a vegetarian dinner event that I attended in 2007 with Kara and Janna, and then the proprietor saw the HORRIBLE things I wrote but thought it was funny and asked to include it in their newsletter?!!? Honestly, I might have hated all beer without prejudice back then but that guy was an exceptional character and I have only had good things to say about that place since. (I mean, I did specify in that blog post that I was very much anti-beer.)

Anyway, I was very stressed out because for as competitive as I am, when playing games in public, I am known to choke and/or become obnoxious, or both.

Well, I’ll just cut to the chase and tell you that WE WON, BITCHES. And if I remember correctly, by a fairly sizeable chunk to boot.

Winners ^^^ ALSO, MEGAN IS PRETTY and PHOTOGENIC. I look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame every time a camera lens is pointed my way.

GREAT ANGLE, ERIN.

Anyway,  these are the things that happened during the contest that I am still thinking about because I get traumatized easily:

• Me almost not being able to remember Diana Ross’s name when no one else on my team knew it was her AND THEY WERE COUNTING ON ME. Don’t worry, your girl pulled through but this is what I mean about my propensity for choking.
• Megan wanting to use our initials for our team name but being sad because they spell anything and I was like, “Um, hello, HEME??” and then I explained it to her but her response was to google “music trivia team names” and she chose It was the Busta Rhymes It was the Worsta Rhymes.
• One of the rounds was “artist names that rhyme” so of course right off the bat, Lynyrd Skynrd was an answer. But Henry finally came in clutch by identifying the first and only one that the rest didn’t know – Scritti Politti. I knew the song but couldn’t think of the band name! Anyway, Henry, now with the glaze of nostalgia on his eyeballs, started to say something about “some kid” he knew when he was “in the service” and I was like, “ok thanks for the answer but no one asked for the backstory now kindly fuck off and get me a new beer that I probably will hate.”
• In the same round, there was this one song that made all of us look at each other with a stumped expression,  Literally NEVER heard this song before, but I was like, “Huh, that kind of sounds like Jack Black’s band, FUCK what was their name??” and then none of us could think but then Eric stage-whispered, “Oh! Tenacious D.” But I was like, “Shit it can’t be that because it doesn’t rhyme, oh well.” YOU GUYS WHY ARE WE SO DUMB, IT ENDED UP BEING PEACHES BY FUCKING JACK BLACK!!! It didn’t occur to me that it could be him because I was fixated on “band names” only. JACK BLACK. Ugh, the amount of times I said his name too. I am fucking haunted by this. Of course it didn’t matter because we were so far in the lead but STILL.
• Another category was “solo artists that started out in a band” and the last song had everyone in the room looking confused, but I said, “Oh!” and wrote down Bjork. “What group was she in??” Eric asked and I was like SUGARCUBES, DUH.
• Megan might have been the only person in the room who knew that one of the songs from the “TV Themes” category was from Big Little Lies. I was IMPRESSED. I was also bummed that Twin Peaks wasn’t one of them.
• I was really obnoxious when we won. I know you’re shocked.

3. Sights from the Northside

That day that we went to watch Chooch sail, we left briefly because we both needed to pee bigly. First, we went to Adda but we fucking got there right after some large annoying walking crew and the line was so long with one barista. We ended up leaving before I could get one of these shitty Taylor Swift-inspired drinks, all of which I’m sure were delicious but TAINTED. Sorry, I just really don’t like that broad.

So we left that dump and went to Yinz Coffee which, you know, shitty name, but OK cafe!

First, I had to take a picture of this presh pizza mural:

I got a cactus pear matcha something or other. It was good! I feel like Henry was annoying me there though. Oh I know! When he was coming back from the bathroom (I was already pre-mad at him for going before me when I had to REALLY GO) he stepped on my foot as I was passing him and almost made me trip in front of people and this angered me so much because how can a couple so epically uncoordinated together get married?!?! He’s going to end up making me fall off my hobby horse if that day ever comes!

4. Wild Mouse <3

I loved this Wild Mouse design so much that I had to buy a coffee cup at Cedar Point!!

5. Is It You?

Earlier in the month, I had dinner at Dorothy6 with Megan, Debby and Mar. It was my first time here and even though their menu severely lacks vegetarian options, I loved the aesthetic and our waitress was SO WONDERFUL, just such a friendly personality and was super helpful and patient when I was being The Difficult Veg.

This was under the glass where I was seated, lol.

Those were some fucking good pierogies! Jalapeno! And the beet salad was very refreshing. Overall, even with the lack of options, I enjoyed my meal!

Everyone’s favorite part though was when we were leaving and some old drunk stopped DEAD IN HIS TRACKS, looked me in the eyes, and asked incredulously, “IS IT YOU?”

I played along, sure, why not. “Yes, it’s me. It’s really me,” I said.

Then he asked if he could be my boyfriend and invited me to go “back there” with him.

YOU GUYS, I STILL GOT IT.

Meanwhile HENRY, who was watching from the car because he is my chauffeur, said he “wasn’t concerned.” Perhaps I should give him something to be concerned about!!!!

Who keeps dreaming up these chaotic, long-haul road trips?! Oh, lol. But listen, Linda – it was my dream to ride ArieForce One in its opening year. I mean, sure, it’s all the way out by Atlanta, we live in Pittsburgh, etc etc. But I had it all planned out! We would leave as soon as I logged off from work on Friday, so around 6pm because we never leave exactly when scheduled, drive as far as Henry could manage that night, get a hotel, wake up early, continue driving, arrive in ATL, eat lunch at Slutty Vegan, go to Fun Spot, imprint on a new rollercoaster, sleep somewhere, wake up and drive home.

There. Planned! The Oh Honestly Erin Travel Agency gets another job done.

Man, these evening road trips always make me so goddamn slap happy and CHATTY. For instance, I think most anyone who has ever even casually glanced at this waste of space word-dump can testify that I have been planning my imaginary never-wedding for approx. 20 years.  But now that I am a bona fide ENGAGED BROAD, I have barely given a thought to this alleged wedding that presumably will happen at some point (dot dot dot question mark, print out the page, punch it into a ball, set it aflame, blow its ashes off a cliff in Siberia?).  It’s like all of my ideas have been zapped from my brain and implanted into the womb of an Alaskan virgin so look out, the next coming of Oh Honestly Erin in person-form might be spotted walking some disgusting polar tundra one day, being wildly ignored and a general waste just like this blog.

What was I saying?

OK, so since we were en route to Georgia, I started thinking about our last trip there, Thanksgiving weekend of 2021. (Actually, I think we drove through on our way to Florida last year? Maybe?)

(I think I have heat stroke.)

It doesn’t matter, just that I was remembering on one of our previous drives to Georgia, a song came on some local Tennessee radio station called THE HORSE and I became, you guessed it Steve, obsessed. I had to immediately put it on Spotify and engage in convulsive interpretive dancing to it.

Henry was like, “OK” and Chooch was like, “But did I ask.”

While it was playing for the second time (maybe it was even a remix at that point, who can be sure),  I couldn’t stop picturing Henry and I, freshly wed, totally stinking of matrimony, walking back down the aisle to this song while riding those stick-horse things.

You know, those stick-horse things.

HOBBY HORSES.

I excitedly shared this idea with Henry.

“But people wouldn’t get it unless they knew the name of the song,” Henry joy-killed.

“Yeah, but we’ll have programs,” I said in that incredulous key of almost-hysteric woman that Henry fucking adores so much, he put a ring on it.

“I knew it,” Henry sighed. “I knew that was coming.

And the programs will have pictures of us doing very anti-Erin/Henry shit together, activities that we’d never do, like here I am in an apron cooking his breakfast, here we are riding vintage bicycles down a dirt lane.

Flying kites.

Country line-dancing?

“And then I can wear a veil [because up until this point I had never considered wearing a veil] for sure so then when you (or whoever the groom is) lift it, I’m actually Howie.

Henry gave BIG FROWN ENERGY in response.

Another day, another Days of Our Lives reference unappreciated (until I tweeted it and Monica gave it love!).

Don’t worry, I’m still stirring this thought-stew in my brain. I’ll come up with something.

Who would have thought that THE HORSE would have been the answer to unblocking my constipated wedding planning bowels. Anyway, I guess this means I will probably have at least something small as opposed to the “nothing” I had previously been settling on.

Janna, if you’re reading this: congratulations, you have an official role in our wedding – handing me my Hobby Horse on which I will gallop away, either with Henry or away from him depending on how I’m feeling that day.

I guess Chooch can hand Henry his? In my mind, I see Chooch chucking it out of Henry’s reach and saying, “Go fetch, Father.”

Here we are driving Henry crazy at the second Sheetz of leg one. This one was a small Sheetz somewhere in West Virginia. West Virginia takes forever to drive through!! I feel like I had an incident in the bathroom where there were no paper towels and I was forced to have a conversation with my sink partner about it. Talking to people in pubic restrooms makes me uncomfy.

We didn’t get to the Ramada in WYTHESVILLE, VA until around 11pm along with everyone else, it seemed. We had to stand in line for like 15 minutes which seems petty to complain about after the fact but when you have been driving for hours and just want to crash into a bed, it feels like time is running backward.

When it was our turn to check-in, Henry’s DAD JOKE mode was activated totally out of the blue and it was SO EMBARRASSING. When the young broad asked, “Is the second floor OK?” Henry asked for the THIRD FLOOR BECAUSE THERE WASN’T A THIRD FLOOR. I wanted to fucking melt into a puddle of I’m Not With Him. Seriously so lame, god help me.

Anyway, we got our key and Chooch and I immediately ditched Henry, leaving him to carry all of our bags to the room alone, haha.

BONUS CONTENT:

Me, the next morning, before checking out and Henry setting the ball of suck into motion by choosing to go to some local cafe called THE GRIND which had like no breakfast options that were satisfactory to me, so I threw a mini-tantrum and then ended up only getting hot coffee which I then RUINED by asking for a shot of brown sugar cinnamon syrup which made it entirely too sweet and I legit was so surly about this for the next, oh, 4 hours.

Thank you. This has been “Friday In the Car.”

Excuse me for the out-of-orderness, but today we are going to skip ahead and talk about one of the things that was done during the extremely short time we were in Atlanta(ish) this past weekend.

And that was SLUTTY VEGAN! This was our second time there so weren’t virgins anymore, but no one would know that because we weren’t ASKED this time around, so that made me sad because I wanted to see what sort of fanfare was in store for us of the meat-free promiscuous persuasion. I dunno man, I was pretty irritable because I hadn’t had breakfast (Henry took us to a dumb place called THE GRIND after we checked out of our hotel in WYTHESVILLE VIRGINIA that morning and I was super annoyed at their menu and ended up getting NO FOOD and shitty coffee but it’s not even worth saying anything more than that!) and then just got a breakfast bar at a gas station at some point on the drive to Atlanta, so I was fucking HUNGGGY and perhaps this also dampened the slutty mood for me.

We chose a different location from the one we went to in 2021, mistakenly thinking that this one offered the option to dine-in. Wrong. They also didn’t have the vegan fish sandwich on the menu, which is what I had my heart set on. So I ended up panic-ordering the chicken sandwich which I think I might have ordered last time so I had immediate regertz but the girl taking my order looked like she would rather be doing anything else in the world other than talking to my lame ass, so I just went with it and then walked away. This pissed off Henry because apparently I was supposed to order for everyone?!?! Is it because he doesn’t like saying the names of the food out loud?! (One Night Stand, Side Heaux, etc.?? Although he swears on his life that he “didn’t know how to pronounce ‘heaux’ so that’s why he asked me to say it for him. Mmmmm.)

I’LL SAY.

Then we stood around for the longest time, watching a parade of people who ordered after us getting their food first, so that was cool. But some lady who was also waiting for her food said she liked my Vans and that they were a pretty color and I thanked her as though I manufactured them myself when what I really wanted to say was that I thought they would have looked nice with the shirt she was wearing but I stopped myself because I was SO FUCKING HUNGRY and it felt like there was nothing in my head but helium, and sometimes when I attempt small talk with strangers when I’m in this type of state, shit gets weird, things take a turn, words get twisted.

Finally, our # was called and I told Henry to go back and get sauce but then Chooch and I left him there alone and he didn’t know what kind of sauce I wanted even though I had SPECIFIED THIS numerous times: in the car on the way there, at home the day before we left, and also immediately after he ordered when I said, “YOU DIDN’T ASK FOR THE BLUEBERRY MAYO AND SLUT SAUCE BUT OK COOK ON.” Chooch and I were all the way at the end of the sidewalk, waiting to cross the street, when he popped out of the Slutty Vegan, twitched his ‘stache and opened his arms like Jesus but stupider.

“What is he doing?” I asked.

“Who knows, who cares,” Chooch muttered, looking back at his phone.

Apparently, he was trying to ask what sauce I wanted but the MADD SLUT had to go back inside, pull up his hot pants, and figure it out on his own. He literally makes everything a hassle.

This was on the next block and I wanted to go.

Anyway, now the real fun began! TRYING TO FIND A PUBLIC PLACE TO EAT OUR LATE-ASS LUNCH (it was 4pm at this point) in an unfamiliar area. There was a cemetery right up the street so we thought that would be perf but apparently it’s a famous historic cemetery that is a TOURIST ATTRACTION that actually has a visitors center and walking tours, so there were people walking all about and nowhere to park and eat privately. We did drive past Kenny Rogers’ grave though so that was something!

Eventually, and I do mean about 30 MINUTES LATER  (Henry says 15 but he is really fucking undershooting this estimate, friends), we found a park that had a vacant picnic table next to a basketball court, so we set up camp there and I fucking swear to god, I ate so fast in the 98 degree heat that I think the masticated food might have actually recooked itself on the way down.

I made Henry order the Side Heaux “for the table.” It’s ‘shrimp’!! I love this so much – I can’t remember if I had something with it on it last time, or if I made Henry get the burger that is topped with it, but one of us had it and I know that I liked it so much I haven’t not been able to stop craving it. Thankfully, it lived up the memory – this stuff is good. The texture is spot-on, the seasoning and breading is nostalgic, and it’s just overall 100% satisfying.

Henry and I split our orders with each other: He got the One Night Stand which I think is just a burger with bacon, and I got the Chik’n Head which had pickles and a really delicious sauce. Both were delicious and I like that they come on vegan Hawaiian rolls.

I honestly think the fries are just OK but the SLUT SAUCE IS SO FUCKING GOOD.

Chooch got the “Big Dawg” and I’m sure he will be thrilled one day when he’s an adult, creeping on “that stupid blog Mother used to have” 20-some years from now and stumbles upon this picture :)

We also got a mini sweet potato pie which cost $3.50 AND IS BASICALLY A TWO-BITER. We failed and didn’t get this last time so I was adamant on pie redemption. After he ordered and I saw how small they are, I said, “Oh shit, maybe you should have ordered more than one.” Well, I’m glad he didn’t because this wasn’t that great after all. I took a small bite and immediately pushed it back at him to eat the rest. We also got the seamoss banana pudding which was more substantial and fucking heavenly. Holy shit, I should have just ordered three of these and nothing else.

Afterward, Henry mentioned that all of this cost over $100 with tip!?!??! ARE YOU KIDDING ME. I’m sorry, I know vegan food is $$$ but I gotta drop Slutty Vegan down several notches after this return trip. It’s good but not THAT good. And then if you’re not a local, you gotta find somewhere to eat that shit too. It just wasn’t the greatest experience this time around and I honestly think that the reason I gave it such high praise the last time we ordered there was because the girl who took our order was SO FRIENDLY and personable. She gave us recommendations, didn’t make us feel like n00bs (even though we were) and plus we got the whole WE GOT SOME VIRGINS IN THE HOUSE treatment that SV is known for.

Maybe it’s because they expanded too fast and don’t put as much care and attention into their patrons now, as often happens when a restaurant grows too quickly. I mean, they have a location in NYC now and just posted on Instagram asking where they should open the next location, so. I dunno, calm down, maybe?

I’m not saying don’t eat there!! I’m just saying that we personally will likely give another vegan establishment a try the next time we’re in the ATL area because the novelty has worn off a bit for us. When you have just driven 6 hours after driving an additional 5 hours the night before, you kind of want to sit down inside a restaurant and eat the food that you just spent $100+ on, not drive around aimlessly while it gets cold and coagulated in a bag.  Plus, we have eaten at some other really memorable vegan places since then that have been better.

And that’s my opinion, boy-o.

Not pictured: bitch’s nosebleed.

Aside from this, we rode the Swing Shot and the fucking brute ride attendant stapled me so hard that the restraint was pressing really hard against my hipbone and I was almost crying. Then we were ALMOST “last ride of the night” on Exterminator (I think there were maybe 8 cars after us) and I fucking swear to god, that ride never gets old. I love it so much.

Honestly, I thought Kennywood had a major glow-up last year, but this year it’s like, “Hey hon, did you go on a medical tour of Korea during the offseason because you’re looking like you had some Grade A work done.” I mean, it was practically shimmering. And they have a new cafe?! Of course Henry was like, “Wow. Expensive” when I stopped by on the way out so I said, “OH OK I GUESS THAT MEANS NO COFFEE FOR ME” and stalked off.

So close to the end without incident, lol.

My one gripe with K-Wood is that they removed the vintage shooting gallery thing?! That has been there at least since I was a kid and probably way before that even! I couldn’t believe it. They put in some dumb remote control truck thing, I don’t even know. It looked stupid.

Well, that’s it. That’s my Kennywood wrap-up.

Hey-heaux it’s live blog time! We just had a lively Quality Inn breakfast. Some heavily-Southern accented man came in with big intensity and immediately started fucking with the waffle maker with major confidence. I mean, the way he approached this, it was the air of a man who had made many complimentary hotel waffles in his time. But then it started beeping and he screamed for his wife to help. She came over quietly, did not look alarmed at all even though I was CLENCHED in my seat, and calmly said, “you have to flip it. It’s telling you to flip it.” He tried to argue that this couldn’t possible be the case because he JUST STARTED IT but then she swiftly flipped the thing over and voila, beeping stopped.

“Oh. Ok thanks!” he said, mood shifting back to pleasant morning sunshine mood. But then as we were walking out, HE COULDNT FIND THE BUTTER!!! She was trying to help him rifle through the condiment tower and he was getting angrier and angrier, which brought back memories of 5 minutes earlier when I also could not find the butter after being TICKLED to see biscuits on display (I always want biscuits on these southern road trips obvi) so I said, “Are you looking for the butter? Because it’s in the cooler over there. I couldn’t find it either!” First, they had both whipped around to look at me with this expression of WHO IS THIS YANKEE HARLOT THAT DEIGNS INFILTRATE OUR EARS WITH HER NORTHERN DIALECT but then they quickly softened when they realized I was HELPING so they gratefully thanked me.

Chooch said that he was in there alone with the guy before we got there and the guy yelled “where’s the fucking creamer??” to Chooch, and then screamed for the “coffee girl” to come help, but it wasn’t a girl, it was a man, and Chooch said the same thing, that once the hotel employee pointed out the creamer to him, he apologetically said, “oh my bad!”

We actually walked in on the tail end of this confrontation and I could tell we had JUST missed the heated climax. There was tension sizzling as the man retreated with his coffee.

Anyway, it’s 7:35am and we are making our way out of Georgia after a FANTASTIC evening at Fun Spot last night. Seriously, it was everything I hoped and more, worth driving 11 hours from Pgh for one coaster, but then the little park ended up being very pleasant overall and the experience was worth it.

9:03am: ugh just stopped at Buc-ees. This place is so intense and overwhelming – I can’t tell if I like it or hate it.



Babe, wake up. #followmeto Buc-ees for beef jerky, “world famous restrooms,” and diabetes. And…candles.





This place is fucking ridiculous. But I guess if you like big meats and freedom, it’s for you! And you’ll know if one is in a 200 mile radius because you’ll start seeing billboards every mile.

11:27am: oh where have I been, you ask? Just reading this novella-length article about Chris Evert and Martina Navratilova’s friendship-turned rivalry-back to friendship and how their life has had so many parallels that they even got cancer at the same time. You guys, I’m crying. Their history is insane and knowing that they supported each other through cancer recently is so pure and amazing but also I know feel like I have cancer running all through my body and am paranoid, panicked, petrified.

Also, we are apparently in Tennessee because Henry made the unilateral decision to take a different route home.

2:10pm:



At Lucky Dog Cafe in Winchester, KY after fighting for a solid hour over where to stop for lunch. It always a point of contention. Anyway, look at how cute this town is!





2:32pm: Chooch just said he’s going to use the bathroom so I said please don’t do anything weird in there, and Henry thought I said, “why are you an inbred American?” So now I laughed myself to tears.

This place is nice but they have HUNTS KETCHUP. I question any establishment that chooses to put HUNTS on their tables over HEINZ.

SHUDDER.





2:50pm: Back in the car after a short walking tour of downtown Winchester, home to Ale81 (some white bitch was waiting for her Ale81 DOORDASH when he walked by and then we saw like two other references/ads for it immediately after so I’m just assuming here) and this really disgusting mural:





So gross.





4:11pm: I guess we’re still in Kentucky because we stopped at a Love’s that had Kentucky merch. Anyway, I got tired of waiting for Henry to finish his shit session (ugh) so I went back out to the car RIGHT AS CHOOCH WAS OPENING HIS DOOR BC HE FARTED SO BAD EVEN HE KNEW THE CAR NEEDED AIRED OUT. This made me flip out and go back in the store, where Henry was now roaming around after completing his DISCHARGE, and demanded that we buy air freshener. We got a can of Glade so now our car stinks like vanilla lavender and the stench of Chooch’s lies as he swears he didn’t fart.

4:24pm: Wow finally in WV. This is allegedly the first time we’ve taken this particular route and I don’t know how I feel about it. Kentucky was very boring.

6:55pm: Still in WV. Stopped at one of the worst Sheetz ever – small, no traffic flow, super annoying. Apparently the line for the men’s room was really long because a Coach tour bus had rolled up so King Henry came over to the neighboring BFS, aka Big Fuck Stick, to pee. So high maintenance.

7:52pm: just entered PA!! 58 more minutes, supposedly.

11:13pm: So my blog was hacked again, woo hoo! I wrote this whole ass post on Notes and I’m waiting for the blog police to call Henry back after my blog is restored so I can post this idiocy.

But anyway, we got home around 9pm RIGHT BEFORE A STORM BLEW THRU and idiot Henry couldn’t find the housekey. He started rummaging in the console for it when we were about 5 minutes away from home and it was CLEAR that it wasn’t in there but he just KEPT RUMMAGING and finally I snapped, “OK guy, it’s not in there! Give it up! This isn’t Mary Poppins’ bag, there is a bottom” and for some reason, Chooch thought this was so funny and couldn’t stop laughing and then this pissed off Henry even more.

“It’s probably in your fucking purse,” Chooch scoffed, thus making it my turn to crack the fuck up because Henry has this stupid sling thing that he takes on trips and of course Chooch calls it his purse which makes Henry seethe.

Anyway, it ended up being in his other shorts in his suitcase which he didn’t discover until after we got home and he practically dumped the contents of his purse on the front porch and then I said, “I thought you said earlier that they were probably in your black shorts” so then he started to rifle through his overnight bag in the trunk and there they were, lololol.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow.

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

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

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

Look at how tennis-y he looks!!

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

1. A Visit From the Goon Squad – Jennifer Egan

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

SUFFICE TO SAY I will not be continuing this series.

2. The Between – Tananarive Due

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

3. Carrie Soto is Back – Taylor Jenkins Reid

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

4. The Writing Retreat – Julia Bartz

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

5. Lavender House – Lev Ac Rosen

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

6. The Swimmers – Julie Otsuka

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

7. Whisper Down the Lane – Clay McLeod Chapman

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

8. The Only Survivors – Megan Miranda

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

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

9. The Hundred-Year House – Rebecca Makkai

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

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

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

10. Hamnet – Maggie O’Farrell

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

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

***

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

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

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

OH OK I SEE IT NOW.

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

Sailing teacher teaching sailing things.

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

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe.

I just feel so awkward about it.

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

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

Henry looks shell shocked as usual.

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

Selfie. Chooch needed a break.

Wow Henry smiled. Also, photog cameo!

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

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

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

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

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

1. burn

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

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

2. Kpop fans v everyone else

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3. Toxic Masculinity in Row N

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

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

4. If you can’t beat ’em….

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

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

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

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

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

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

5. The Set List

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

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Erin Appledale (@ohhonestlyerin)

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

ENCORE #1

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

ENCORE #2

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

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

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

“OK so nothing has changed,” he said.

😂

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

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

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

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

TWO OLD MOMS, UGH.

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

Anyway. Sailing and tennis. Brookline prep. ⛵️🎾

They make me so happy. 💚 🌱

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

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

*******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, lightning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If Only Tonight We Could Sleep

Burn

Disintegration

Want

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

and wait,

and wait,

and wait

for something to happen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course, I said NO at first. :)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OK, understandable!

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

****

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

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

WHAT.

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

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

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

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

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