Friday, June 30, 2006
This was fun for me. But here's the rub: I would really only do this once a week at most. If I were spending hours, seven days a week, aimlessly slogging through library books and encyclopedias, that would be strange. Like the weird pervs my mom would tell me about, the ones who loitered around the library trying to look up ladies' skirts & things. She once got to expel a guy for "masturbating." I didn't know what that was when she told my dad about it, thinking I was out of earshot. Of course, the next day I ran to the library and looked it up in "Our Bodies, Ourselves" and got quite the shock. But I digress.
I started thinking about my behavior on the Internet. Unlike Grant Miller, I am not an afficianado of Ukranian or goat porn, and only rarely even run across smut while surfing. I just engage in the same behavior as I used to in the library as a kid. I just randomly look up shit. And the more shit you look up, the more it leads to other shit. One minute I'm checking out the Star Jones scandal; the next I'm taking some sort of test to see if I have ADD. It goes on & on, and I do it for hours.
I have become the weird guy in the libary who never leaves. I have decided this is not normal, and it needs to stop.
So Coaster Punchman has a new policy. No more random surfing for hours daily, ESPECIALLY if I'm supposed to be working. I am now on a strict 3-email-checks-per-day policy. And I will allow myself a quick check-in with my favorite blogger pals once a day. After all, someone needs to keep Echo company. But that's it. The rest of my random surfing will have to wait until I get home from work, and even then I'm putting a cap on it, lest my life become even more pathetic.
Laugh all you want Melinda June - with all the newfound time I will have, I am going to be AMAZING. I might even have time to invent something.
Just you wait.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Mama Gin doesn't understand that the answering machine is an inanimate object. When she dials a phone number and hears a human voice on the other end, she assumes it is the voice of a live person who is actually listening to her.
This leads to considerable consternation when she realizes the "person" is not, in fact, listening. It is not often that she comes to such realizations, however, because she generally doesn't pay enough attention to other people to notice whether they are listening or not. So it's usually not a problem.
But one night we came home to see, on our call waiting list, that she had called approximately 37 times in a row. Since it was my voice on the outgoing answering machine greeting, I was treated to the following message from Mama Gin:
"Tom! How come you, all the time, answer the phone? Georgie not answer the phone. It not belong to, to him? I no like that! You, and Georgie, move out!"
It was ever so charming of her to call me.
To get her back for her nastiness, I made a tape of her message and recorded IT as our outgoing greeting. The next time she called, she was treated to the grating sound of her own high pitched voice screaming at me. She stopped calling after that.
One day I will see if I can make a digital recording of the message, and I will play it for you here.
My older brother, who is my polar opposite, is visiting for three days while he is in New York trying out for the game show "Who Wants to be a Millionaire." He is currently home on my couch enjoying a fitful, apnea afflicted bout of sleep while I am in the office trying to earn a living.
I do want to be a loyal family member, but it is difficult for me to spend time with a relative whose every life choice involves feats of buffoonery that would make Bozo the Clown hang his head in shame and resolve to try harder. My brother possesses the same sense of decorum our Creator bestowed upon the Keystone Kops, not to mention the common sense God gave a cantaloupe.
I will spare you, my gentle readers, the unsavory details of the vulgar indignities my brother has inflicted on us lately. I suppose this entry is merely a call for your good wishes, which George and I can surely use until such time as Rich returns to his cave.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
I help you buy house. I look in paper, I show you, I say “Tom, this house cheap. You buy.”
Someone on street hands you piece of paper, no take it. No good. They just try rob you.
Georgie out after dark, no good. You tell Georgie come home early.
You have money. You buy your own house.
You, go live with your own mama. You make my house dirty.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
It's always a bad day for me when I receive the Georgetown Law alumni magazine in the mail. The one I got today was especially distressing. Not only was I subjected to the usual litany of classmates who are busy saving the world or earning millions of dollars; I was also treated to the news that Georgetown Law has ten new distinguished professors this year - eight of them younger than me.
I am not saving the world. I am not earning millions of dollars, either. And I am certainly not planning on teaching law anytime soon. The only thing my fancy education seems to have produced is an increase in the quarterly number of phone calls I get from assorted relatives making thinly veiled pleas for money.
In general, my only successes of note consist of getting through my days without shouting at my sales counterparts in the publishing company I work for, making it to the gym for a moderate workout several times a week, and getting home with nothing more important to do other than uncork a nice bottle of pinot noir.
Wait.... maybe my life is ok after all. This wine fucking kicks ass.
Sorry world, you're going to have to call someone else.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Monday, June 19, 2006
If you read this after today, 6/19/2006, you can probably find her in the links "Food On My Cat." Abigail is featured sitting underneath a large red pepper & two tomatoes.
Ready to puke yet, Min?
Sunday, June 18, 2006
She wants us to do our laundry the way she does hers, which is to put an inch of water in the bathtub with an old remnant of a piece of Ivory soap, swirl the clothes around with your hand for a few seconds, and then hang everything up, sopping wet, on the shower rod. As an alternative she approves of drying clothes outside by strategically draping them over the roof of our storage shed.
Mama Gin on sitting in our completely fenced-in back yard after dark: "No good. Go inside, sleep. You sit here, someone think you bad man and come and shoot you."
Speaking of the back yard, please enjoy some recent shots from the breakfast nook section.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
In another recent entry she does a whole compare/contrast thing with reasons she's given people for breaking up vs. the real reasons that she never gave. This subject merits some further analysis over here at Coaster Punchman's World. Since I have proven myself incapable of having an original thought of my own, I am foverver subject to borrowing the brilliant ideas of others. At least I'm citing her as a reference.
So without further ado, here are some highlights of the real reasons I've broken up with people (the stated reason usually being something like "I just don't think we're a match" etc.)
Those of you who still think I'm a nice guy will probably change your minds after reading this. I guess this is the big unveiling. Even I didn't know what an asshole I am.
2. You’re a total damsel in distress. Unfortunately, I have a very strong “flight” instinct. I will run and leave you behind if we’re ever attacked on the street. Then your hot brother will kick my ass.
3. I’m not grossed out by you at all, but I don’t really get the boob thing.
1. And if you mention that god-damned Landmark Education course to me once more I swear I will kill you with my bare hands.
2. You took your fork that had egg yolk on it and dipped it into Alex's fancy little jar of strawberry preserves. That is so not ok that you did that.
3. You squatted down naked on your haunches to pick up the morning paper, and farted.
4. You got into the shower with me when I was getting ready to go to work.
5. Your feet are fucking ugly.
6. You talked stupid to your cats the first morning we woke up in bed together.
7. I love you to death and would marry you in a second if I didn't want to puke at the thought of having sex with you.
8. You told me you're a registered sex offender. You had sex with a 12 year old when you were 21. I know you're sorry and from what I've seen you don't seem like a dangerous child molester. But I cannot get past it. Sorry.
9. You're just kind of gross. I thought you were cute when I first met you, but I must have been on crack. Get the fuck out of my house.
10. On our first date you wore gold chains with your shirt unbuttoned half-way down your chest.
11. I actually kind of like you, but I'm dumping your ass just to even the score a little. And it is taking you 10 years to finish school. I suspect you may be a loser.
12. You told me you like just about any kind of music except for country-western or heavy metal. Shut the fuck up.
While I applaud Carrie's efforts to encourage socio-political reform in this regard, I feel that she could help me more by working to end the gender stereotypes regarding the perceived hotness of guy on guy action.
"Come on, Carrie. How many lecherous comments has Brad ever made asking you to kiss one of your girlfriends full on the mouth? How many times has he coyly suggested some sort of menage a trois? Why aren't you demanding equal time from him with one of his buddies?"
She said I had a point, although she doesn't necessarily have this exact problem with Brad, seeing as how he worked in a gay strip club before law school and generally doesn't require much coaxing to do anything lecherous. Which is why we're such good friends.
Anyway, I told Carrie she should start making an issue of this. Joey & Chandler were willing to give up their apartment to watch Monica and Rachel kiss for one minute on "Friends." I think Monica & Rachel should have been demanding that Joey & Chandler wrestle nude in a tub of lime-green jello. Not that I necessarily want to watch Joey & Chandler specifically, but fair is fair!
Carrie agreed with me completely on this, but conditioned her agreement on the fact that the gay porn producers need to start creating more women-friendly work, including more romantic dialogue, softer lighting, less hard-core action & more soft-core hotness. She practically waxed poetic as she described in great detail the "problems" with one of the harder-core gay films she had seen recently - a description that the elderly ladies standing next to us outside the bar didn't seem to enjoy as much as Brad and I did. But that's New York.
So Carrie is all for it, and I'm encouraging her to spread the news far & wide amongst her girlfriends. Start demanding some hot guy-on-guy action between your straight boyfriends! Withhold sex from them until they agree to two-minute liplocks with each other! Request nude wrestling photos from their college years!
We here at CPW wholly support the continued struggle for gender equity!
Thursday, June 15, 2006
George: "Mom, if you want a baby so bad, Tom & I will go to China and adopt one."
MG: "Noooo! No good, no good!"
George: "Why not?"
MG: "Because they only give away the bad ones. They keep all the good ones for themselves."
The woman can barely say anything else. She has spent entire weeks of her life uttering only those five words.
Mama Gin is obsessed with all things sexual, and anything remotely related to "Georgie get marry have baby." During the time I've known him, Mama Gin has made the following suggestions to George:
- Tom can marry Becky and I get a girl for you - then you both get marry have baby (Becky is George's niece)
- Two men live together, one apartment, no good. You get marry have baby.
- Don't spend time with your friend Linda because her husband will get mad and kill you
- You marry Becky. Tom move out. (We're still talking about George's niece.)
- You get marry have baby, I give you two hundred dollars.
I went into the house for a while to watch the finale of American Idol, leaving George and Stephanie to have a private chat. During a commercial break I went back outside to find Mama Gin yammering away at Stephanie, in Chinese.
"You, get marry Georgie, have baby. You live with me. My apartment good. You come inside, you look." She then took Stephanie by the hand and led her, somewhat forcefully, into her apartment. Stephanie didn't emerge for another ten minutes. She was given a tour of Mama Gin's filthy apartment, narrated entirely in Chinese.
George has tried to explain to Mama Gin numerous times that if she wants to attract girls to the house, showing them her apartment is not the way she should go about it.
If any of my lady friends with a baby would like to come visit, we'll show the baby to Mama Gin and then split the $200 with you. In fact, even if you'd just manage to borrow a baby to pull off this scam with us, we'd be game.
Echo, esteemed editor of the Unofficial and self-avowed stalker of Mr. Miller, is going all Glenn Close on us for daring to suggest that he is not for real. Luckily for me, most of his anger over this is directed at Miller himself rather than at me. He seems to think that Miller was behind all of this.
Well Mr. Echo, to set the record straight, I am officially confirming for you that the idea of you and Miller being one and same is my own, and did not in any way emanate from the Official site. And this statement remains in effect in perpetuity, unless Miller's check bounces again.
Yours in cyberstalking,
Sunday, June 11, 2006
We celebrated Joakim's 13th birthday with a cake from Leske's Scandinavian Bakery. Of course, he refused to have his photo taken with the cake. I love how EVERYTHING embarasses 13 year olds.
The following weekend, Bay Ridge celebrated Syttende Mai, the Norwegian Independence Day. Since Bay Ridge used to be very Norwegian, like 50 years ago, there is still a parade here every May 17th. It is the most lackluster affair you could ever imagine. But the various Sons of Norway lodges and church groups who have been marching in the parade for over 50 years just won't let it die. It's awesome.
My alma mater always sends a small contingent. I usually fail to acknowledge them for fear they will recognize me and try to get me to march with them.
It is good to have a cat again after missing Betty so much. Of course, Abigail is not Betty. She is much more shy and doesn't like to cuddle. Not yet, anyway.
But she is very cute.
I have started a new blog so that Sara can get regular updates & pics of Abigail.
Jane and other Edward lusters, you should check in with Abigail regularly.
By the way, this is not the same Sara who hates Angelina Jolie.
For example, she once got mad at her boyfriend because she thought it was time he propose marriage and he just wasn't getting around to it. So she purchased an "Outward Bound" trip for him and sent him off to the mountains for a week to think about his life. Then, when she went to pick him up at the airport, he got off the plane and immediately broke up with her.
She was pissed.
She called Outward Bound the next day, demanding to know what sick things they said to her boyfriend to make him behave like that. And then my favorite part - the OB counselor suggested that maybe she could benefit from the program herself. She replied with something to the effect of "take your m-f'ing program and shove it up your ass!!!!"
Anyway, Sarah is an independent business travel consultant, and she's been working for a while on a special program for travel to Namibia for one of her clients. When she found out Brangelina was moving there to give birth to her child, Sarah hit the roof.
"That bitch Angelina Jolie is ruining my life. Namibia was MY fucking idea, and now she's moving there and everyone's going to think I'm doing this program because of her. Fuck her. I hate that bitch."
Sarah is awesome.
Friday, June 09, 2006
The first time Mama Gin ever caught sight of Betty, she came down to the apartment and told George "be sure to tie that cat up at night."
"Why?" George responded.
"Because, if you go to bed with a little piece of food stuck on your face, the cat will wait until you're asleep, and then jump on the bed to try to eat the food and she'll bite your face off."
When George translated this for me, I wasn't sure what to be more disturbed by - the fact that she was so afraid of the cat, or that she thought it was normal behavior to go to bed with food stuck on your face.
Then she suggested that we tie Betty up in the back yard so that she could catch wild birds for us to eat. (Mama Gin is obsessed with eating food caught in the wild, even if the "wild" is a back yard in Brooklyn.)
But my favorite Mama Gin + Betty story is the one Lulu made reference to.
One lovely spring day, George and I decided to have a little outing to the botanical gardens or someplace like that. We left the house around 11:00 am, and returned late afternoon. In other words, we weren't even gone as long as we would be on a normal work day.
For some reason (an appropriate opener of any sentence that discusses the philosophies and motives of Mama Gin) she thought we had packed up and left for good, leaving the cat behind. Yes, it's insane, but that's what she thought. So, figuring that we were gone for good, Mama Gin found enough kindness in her heart to come down to our apartment to "rescue" the poor cat by feeding her.
Mama figured Betty would enjoy a nice, huge deep-dish pie plate of pork chunks covered in milk.
That's right - pork and milk. In huge chunks as big as an adult human's fist. Good thing Betty didn't keep kosher.
Needless to say, Betty did not touch the pork and milk platter.
Another time we came back from a weekend away, when we had left Betty at home alone for about a day and a half. We did this now and again, and Betty was generally fine with a big dish of dry food and a nice bowl of water to tide her over.
I walked in the door & found Betty yowling and quite agitated. I figured she was hungry, so I approached her food bowl and found it completely covered by six whole slices of Wonder Bread. Betty couldn't get to her food because it was covered in Wonder Bread.
George went upstairs and instructed Mama Gin never to come down again.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Coulter calls 9/11 widows "witches"
By Claudia Parsons
Conservative author Ann Coulter sparked a storm on Wednesday after describing a group of September 11 widows who backed the Democratic Party as millionaire "witches" reveling in their status as celebrities.
"I've never seen people enjoying their husbands' deaths so much," Coulter writes in her book "Godless: The Church of Liberalism," published on Tuesday, referring to four women who headed a campaign that resulted in the creation of the September 11 Commission that investigated the hijacked plane attacks.
Coulter wrote that the women were millionaires as a result of compensation settlements and were "reveling in their status as celebrities and stalked by grief-arazzis."
A spokeswoman for publisher Crown Forum said it had set a first print run of 1 million copies of "Godless" and there were 1.5 million copies of Coulter's previous four books in print.
The four women, Kristen Breitweiser, Patty Casazza, Mindy Kleinberg and Lorie Van Auken, declined to discuss the book in detail but issued a statement saying they had been slandered.
"There was no joy in watching men that we loved burn alive. There was no happiness in telling our children that their fathers were never coming home again," said the statement signed by the four, along with a fifth woman, Monica Gabrielle.
The four women, who live in or around East Brunswick, New Jersey, became friends after September 11 and formed a group that agitated for the investigation. "Our only motivation ever was to make our nation safer," they said.
Coulter, whose books include the bestseller "How to Talk to a Liberal (If You Must)," argues in the new book the women she dubs "the Witches of East Brunswick" wanted to blame President George W. Bush for not preventing the attacks.
She criticized them for making a campaign advertisement for Democratic presidential candidate Sen. John Kerry in 2004, and added: "By the way, how do we know their husbands weren't planning to divorce these harpies? Now that their shelf life is dwindling, they'd better hurry up and appear in Playboy."
Asked by Reuters why she made such personal comments, Coulter said by e-mail, "I am tired of victims being used as billboards for untenable liberal political beliefs."
"A lot of Americans have been seething over the inanities of these professional victims for some time," she added.
Democratic Sen. Frank Lautenberg (news, bio, voting record) of New Jersey said Coulter's "shameless attack" on the widows sparked disgust. "Her bookselling antics and accompanying vulgarity deserve our deepest contempt," he said in a statement.