Sorry to have neglected you for over a week. (Pick up the shattered pieces of your lives and move on, please.)
Embarked on a wonderful vacation to Napa Valley, where I ended up flat on my back for several days. I managed to have mostly lovely time anyway. How could I not, with all that fabulous wine?
Now that I'm home in NYC my back has gone out yet again, though this time a bit worse - I am now truly flat on my back. Too bad I can't make any money like this; I've heard this position can be quite lucrative for some.
I have manged to set up a new personal laptop during all this, so the next task will be transferring over all my data. If anyone has any particular advice on moving my I-Tunes collection over from two different computers, please feel free to share.
Meanwhile, in other news, we are dog-sitting for our friends Brad and Carrie while they are out of the country. Their little dog is cute, and Poor George is in paradise having her here (he being the dog lover to counter my cat obsession.) Needless to say, the cats are less than thrilled with this arrangement, though it has been amusing to watch them work out their relationship. So far this "relationship" consists of the cats terrorizing the little dog until she fairly quakes with fear.
I do kind of enjoy limping down to the local dog run with her once or twice a day. Opens my eyes to the whole world of social connections related to dog ownership. If we had a bigger place, I wouldn't mind doing this full time.
CP, Beckeye, Chelene and Write Procrastinator taking Manhattan by storm
I have to get up early and hop on a plane tomorrow morning, so I won't have time to impart fully the delight Poor George and I had in meeting three new Blogger friends this evening. But I didn't want to pass up the opportunity to make a quick post about this wonderful experience.
Earlier this week I received an invitation from our friend Write Procrastinator who was in town to celebrate the golden anniversary of his in-laws. At the friendly urging of WP, Poor George and I joined him along with Ms. Procrastinator, Procrastinator Junior, Chelene of Bliss & Bile, and Beckeye of The Pop Eye for a sumptuous dinner at one of New York City's landmark restaurants, Carmine's.
I thought I had been granted all the happiness possible in already having met the incomparable Dale, the stunning Hapabukbuk and the love of my life, Wonderturtle. And now these three step in to illustrate further the amazing connections many of us have been able to establish through our writing.
Not to mention that there are now three more people in the world who know how much better I am on paper!
In a continuation of our Bubs' Interview series, this morning we move on to his second question.
Q: I'd like to follow up on a Melinda June question regarding Mama Gin: I am fascinated by elderly female Asian compulsive gamblers, and I don't consider any trip to a casino complete unless I encounter one. What is the nature of Mama Gin's compulsion?
Bubs, trying to ascertain the nature of anything about Mama Gin is an exercise in futility. Nonetheless, crazy as she is, she does in fact have an uncanny knack for choosing the winning horse with greater regularity than the average whack-job.
George's sister Ruby developed a theory that on the days Mama Gin wins at the horse track, she comes home feeling generous of spirit. It's when she loses that she gets nasty. I have not put this theory through the rigors of scientific testing, but will certainly keep it in mind.
Mama Gin did spend yesterday at the race track. If Ruby's theory is in fact correct, the web's most notorious mother-in-law must have won something because she came down this morning with $200 for Poor George.
And he wasn't even required to have a baby to accept it! This time.
My boss, who is straight, is also a big show-tune queen. So when he visited me in New York last night I took him and some other colleagues out to dinner and then to Marie's Crisis for a round of Broadway show-tune belting.
Shortly after we arrived, the girl depicted in the above poster walked in with her mother. She had the starring little-girl-bitch role in one of my favorite all-time movies, Camp.
Needless to say, I was smitten.
Normally I don't talk to famous people in public, partly out of respect for their privacy, but mostly because I would feel like some gawky, stalkerish fan or something. But in this case I decided to approach her because she's not really famous enough to be annoyed by that sort of thing yet. Camp is the only film she's done, and I don't think it enjoyed any sort of prolonged theatrical release outside neighborhoods teeming with gay men, divas and other drama queens. Although the film does show up on the cable channels quite often - and I always make a stop there when surfing, of course.
Anyway, I figured since she's not really that famous she probably appreciates a certain amount of public adoration. Not to mention the fact that she showed up at a show-tunes piano bar frequented by gay men. I mean, helloooo! Craving attention much?
I debated with my colleagues (none of whom knew who she was) as to whether I should approach her - and they all urged me on, telling me I'd regret it forever if I let this one-in-a-lifetime chance pass me by. So I waited until we were ready to leave, and then I made my move.
"Hi! I didn't want to leave without coming over to say hello. You are the girl from that movie, aren't you?"
Ok, it was kind of dumb sounding, but I'm no expert at pickup lines or anything. At least not pickup lines for girly quasi-movie stars.
"No, I'm afraid I'm not. What movie are you talking about?" She was TOTALLY playing me. I liked it.
"Camp! You are the girl from Camp. I know you are. I really enjoyed your performance."
She smiled sheepishly, and then her mother broke in.
"Yes, it is her. She is very talented, isn't she?"
"Yes! I love that movie! I watch it all the time when I see it in the cable tv listings. I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your performance."
She really is cute, even if she played a total bitch . My God, I'm so predictable.
"Anyway, I just wanted to stop over before I left. My name is Tom." I offered my hand, which she shook.
"Thank you, nice to meet you!" She wasn't about to offer her name in return. And by the way, I am not mentioning her name in this post because I don't need her Googling to see what a dork I am.
All in all, this was a highly satisfactory star sighting. And not at all meaningless.
I am Coaster Punchman and you have just entered my world. I rule it with an iron fist, so if you're looking for First Amendment protection, you will not find it here. I have a now deceased crazy Chinese mother-in-law, and sometimes I wear Crocs around the house. I don't like flip-flops or Mormons. I'm also a cyberstalker by trade -- so I could look up all sorts of random shit about you if I wanted, but I probably won't because I'm pretty lazy.