Little Coaster Punchman: A Stalker in the Making

This is my childhood ex-neighbor Jenny. She is a stone cold fox and definitely NOT a bitch!

Longtime readers of CPW remember the story of my childhood ex-neighbor Jenny, the little girl who only wanted me for my box. Back when I used to have fans and regular readers, many of said fans and regular readers rallied to support me as I relived this recklessly painful childhood trauma. But as sweet and appreciated as your support was, I now have to confess that Jenny is actually not a total bitch. Or if she is a bitch, she is only 1/3 the bitch that I am.

Hmmm, maybe I'm digging myself a hole here because being 1/3 the bitch that I am is still pretty bad. Let me rethink that and get back to you.

Anyway, later on I related to you the strange tale of how I once stalked Jenny by embroidering her a pillow and sending it to her in the mail along with a secret admirer letter. Somewhere in the comments section that followed the tale I mentioned that Jenny and I had actually reunited on Facebook. Which means that I could contact her any time I wanted.

The result of this confession is that avid commenters GetKristiLove and Chris ganged up and goaded me into confessing the whole story to Jenny while taping it live for the cringy-embarrassment of whatever readers I have left after having neglected my blog for so long.

Mainly because I love to be ganged up on (sick fetish) I took the bait and did contact Jenny. Live. On video. And confessed to her that I was the stalker who hand embroidered her the ugly pillow.

Here is the result. Admittedly, it may not be as enticing as any of the classic Mama Gin videos, but I hope some of you will enjoy it anyway.

CP

ps: There are several cat cameos in this video. There's an especially good one near the end, where Grover pounces into my lap, demanding attention as I try to wrap up the phone call.

I get to ride the school bus!

I can't believe I have not told this story yet because it is a classic.

We moved to a new town at Christmastime the year that I was in kindergarten, so I had to change schools. I had walked to and from my first school, but my new school was farther away so I was going to have to take the bus.

The school bus! I was VERY excited. I could hardly talk about anything else for several weeks. My whole family talked about it too, and I distinctly remember my dad describing how I was supposed to stand there and wait for the bus to slow down. He made these big hand gestures above his head to describe the alternate flashing red lights that would go off when the driver opened the door, which would be my signal to board the bus. (Apparently he thought the door opening up would not be a sufficiently clear signal for me.)

In any event, I felt well prepared and walked confidently down the street to the bus stop with my mom on the first day of school in January. I got very excited when the big yellow bus approached and did the whole alternate-flashing-light thing my dad had talked about. When the door opened I stepped on, sat down in one of the seats and waved to my mom out the window.

"I'll see you when you get home!" she called out as she waved back.

I was finally a big boy, and more than slightly pleased with myself.


**************************************


Riding the bus was fun, and I enjoyed looking at all the houses and other things out the window during the 15 minute ride to school. But as we reached the grounds of the school and the bus pulled into the parking lot, I came to a startling realization: I had NO idea what to do now that we had arrived. I had received hour upon hour of instruction on how to wait for, board and ride the bus, but no one bothered to tell me what was supposed to happen when I actually arrived at school.

I suppose my parents figured the school would take it from there and guide me along. And they probably would have been right, if they had been putting me on the bus on the first day of school in September when all the kids were new. But they seemed to have forgotten that I was going to be alone in a crowd of kids who all knew what they were doing. They neglected to acknowledge to themselves or to me that I alone would be the clueless one, a phenomenon which would unfortunately repeat itself many times throughout the course of my life.

Although I was borderline retarded, I was no dummy and knew enough to draw upon whatever resources that might be readily available. And at that moment the other available resources happened to be the other kids on the bus.

Not being particularly astute verbally, I didn't even consider asking someone what the fuck I was supposed to do next. Instead, I decided it would be easiest to choose one kid to observe and follow along with whatever he did. I chose a kid not unlike myself: taller, thin and with short brown hair. Seemed like a good enough plan.

My new friend (who didn't know he was my friend) stepped down off the bus and I followed closely behind. He walked slowly across the playground, past small groups of kids who were playing and/or talking before school. He didn't stop to talk to anyone but simply meandered, making large circles around a jungle gym, swing set and other playground equipment. I shadowed him carefully, not wanting to miss my cue.

Eventually my friend approached the door of the school building and went inside, and I followed about five paces behind. He walked slowly down a hallway lined with blue lockers but which was otherwise empty. About halfway down the hall he stopped and turned to face one the of the lockers. I did the same.

My friend leaned forward, resting his forehead on one of the lockers --- and began to cry. Not loud sobbing, but a kind of wide-open mouth silent crying with a long string of drool descending down from his lower lip. I didn't cry, but I did remain standing with my head against the locker, wondering what this morning ritual was all about.



I didn't know it at that exact moment, but the kid I had chosen to follow was the only other new kid, who apparently had a very different way of coping with an unfamiliar situation. I still thought my method was superior, although it had backfired in this particular instance.

A teacher eventually came and rescued us, delivering us to our respective classrooms. I'm not sure if my parents ever received a call from the principal's office or child protective services to inquire what the hell they thought they were doing, just sending me off with no guidance or instruction like that. But they should have.

Of course my mom denies the entire story to this day, which is fine. I'm sure that you, my Gentle Readers can discern the truth.

100 Things I Have Done part 1

This is Diana Scarwid. She is not scary.

I was loitering at the blog of Gizmorox the other day when I came across a meme where she had to tell of 100 things she has done in her life. Pretty cool, I thought, and so I decided to do the same. I suppose this will be kind of like my 100 Things about Me post from a few years ago, but with a slightly different focus.

Technically you're supposed to write about 100 amazing things you have done in your life, but as I consider all of life amazing, some of these things may seem rather ordinary to the rest of you. Drink up.

I don't have the attention span to think up 100 new things all at once, so this is going to have to come in installments. Which you know will take me over a year to finish.


Oh, and y'all are tagged to do the same.


100 (Amazing?) Things I Have Done

1. Once, when I was about four, I found a huge wad of chewed gum in our yard. It looked really inviting, yet I knew I was not supposed to eat stuff that I found on the ground. I picked it up and just held it, and figured it wouldn't hurt just to take a quick chomp on part of it while holding onto the rest of it. I liked it. So I took another chomp. Yum. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I had the whole thing in my mouth and was chewing away happily.

Ok, that sounded kind of dirty.

2. One time, when I was a teenager, I purposely turned up our stereo very loud just to see if my parents would make me turn it down. They just closed the kitchen door. I guess it was because I almost never listened to loud rock music and they were glad I was starting to appear normal.

3. Very occasionally, if I become very active without having eaten anything, I am overcome by an intense migraine headache. One morning I was very busy and had to shop for a new car. I was in the final negotiation stage of a purchase when the massive headache hit me. I was hunched over, head in my hands, and the salesman was asking what the problem was. "Low blood sugar, I need something to eat," I was barely able to mutter without throwing up. He ran across the street to get me a sandwich, and then I was fine within 10 minutes. I've never understood exactly why that happens, or at least why it happens so randomly.

4. In high school I used to write my friend Gretchen these horrible notes about how I wasn't going to be her friend any more, but then would never give them to her.

5. One time I was picking my nose (in private.) I got ahold of a small piece, and when I pulled on it out came a looooong string of dry crust that had been stuck all the way up my sinuses. It was outstanding.

6. My third grade Sunday school teacher asked us all to share something that made us feel afraid. When we were done sharing, she told us it made her afraid to see a black man on the street at night. I never told my parents about this.

7. When my cat Samantha disappeared, my dad took me to the local shelter to look for her. When we saw she wasn't there, he said "you can have another cat if you want." I replied tearily, and much more loudly than I had intended, "I don't WANT another cat." Everyone in the room turned and looked at me sadly.

8. When I was living in France I was invited to a "black tie" party, though I didn't know it was black tie because the word in French for tuxedo is "costume." People kept telling me I'd need a "costume" for the party, so I would just tell them not to worry and that I would go dressed as a monster or something. I didn't end up going. I think the people inviting me retracted the invitation because they thought I was insane.

9. When I was 16 I allowed myself to be seduced by this older girl who looked like Diana Scarwid. Ok, she was only a year older but it was still scary. Not Diana Scarwid, but the girl.

10. I completely forgot to go to a piano competition I was supposed to compete in one time. My piano teacher was not happy, but really wanted me to enter so she convinced a judge that I had been sick and the judge let me come play for her at her house. I don't remember the outcome.



Stay tuned for part 2.