Coaster Punchman's Pretend Interview with Lulu

Several of my blogger friends like Bella Rossa and Chris have recurring series involving interviews with other bloggers. In fact, Chris just recently interviewed Lulu on his blog.

Then there is Echo, whose own recent project involves stealing from others' blogs.

To honor the genius of these three excellent writers, I figured it would be a good idea to throw my own idea in with theirs by pretending to interview Lulu. See how that works? I'm stealing from Chris and Bella by interviewing Lulu, and then stealing from Echo by stealing from other bloggers. To top it all off, the idea only to pretend-interview Lulu, rather than actually interviewing her, is my own. This works well for me because I'm lazy and real interviews are more work.

And so you see, Gentle Readers, that four heads working together are much better than one!

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Coaster Punchman's Pretend Interview with Lulu


Coaster Punchman recently pretended to sit down with Blogger matron Lulu to have a chat about her sex life, former modeling career, her Monty Python Pot'o'Beans nightgown and her obsessive love for They Might Be Giants.

Ok, well the interview is really only about her obsessive love for They Might Be Giants. But we might get to those other topics eventually.

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CP: So Lulu, I understand you did business with some Johns at least once in your life. Did you have a pimp-daddy to help arrange that, or were you on your own?

Lulu: Fuck you, CP. Go call yourself a whore for a change. I am out of here.

CP: No, wait Lu... here, I've got some bacon.....

Lulu: Mmmmmmmm, bacon.....

CP: There, do you feel better now?

Lulu: Yes CP, you are just as brilliant as ever, and gorgeous too!

CP: Why thank you! Now can we talk about these Johns for minute?

Lulu: Yes CP, I did tell you that I have engaged in a business transaction with at least one John before. However, it was not when I was out turning tricks. The John I'm referring to is one of the Johns from They Might Be Giants. He came into Starbucks when I was schlepping beans there.

CP: Wow Lu, that's really cool!

Lulu: I know! Please worship me now.

CP: I already do. So anyway, which John from They Might Be Giants was it? John Linnell or John Flansburgh?

Lulu: I don't know. I'm not really doing this interview, remember? This is just you pretending to be me.

CP: Yeah, that's right. Maybe you'll clear that up when you comment on this brilliant post. So anyway, tell me more about this chance meeting with John from They Might Be Giants.

Lulu: Well, one morning I was at work when this guy comes up to the counter and orders a cappuccino or something like that.

CP: How unusual for that to happen in a Starbucks!

Lulu: Shut your god-damned mouth and let me finish the story. You always have to be a smart-ass.

CP: Sorry.

Lulu: So I look up at the man who ordered the hot beverage and behold, it's John from They Might Be Giants!

CP: Wow! So did you like swoon or something?

Lulu: I didn't really swoon, but I did say "Hey, you're who I think you are, aren't you?" And he replied "Yes! I'm Elton John!"

CP: Elton John? Why did he pick Elton John? Is he gay or something?

Lulu: CP, I swear....

CP: Ok, ok. Go on with the story.

Lulu: So he's smirking, telling me he's Elton John. So I say "But you don't understand. I LOVE you!" And then he says "I love you too!"

CP: Oh my God. You probably giggled like a school girl!

Lulu: In fact, I did! And then I wet my pants a little because I was so giddy!

CP: You wet your pants, really?

Lulu: No, this is just you pretending to be me, remember? You're trying to embarrass me.

CP: Yeah, I keep forgetting. Well anyway, thanks so much for sitting down with us today, Lulu. It's always so great to see you.

Lulu: You too, CP. Can I get back to my own blog now? You're a real pain in my ass.

CP: I know. But I'm trying to change. Bye Lu!

These are the Johns from They Might Be Giants. One of them is in love with Lulu, but we don't know which one.

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Stay tuned for more of Coaster Punchman's Pretend Interviews with Bloggers!

Poor George's Haiku for Ted Haggard

Eyes glazed with Jesus,
Fluids dripping down his face,
What is he thinking?

CPW Confessional: Just like Ronnie sang

I don't normally think much of Eddie Money, but yesterday our neighborhood Italian grocery store was blaring "Take Me Home Tonight" and I started to sing along in the checkout line. At one point the checkout girl and I locked eyes and simultaneously belted out "Be my little babaaaaaay!"

Just like Ronnie sang.


It felt dirty, but I kind of liked it.

Pain in my ass

My cats, the cutest cats in the world, have decided they are going to be the kind of cats who jump up on tables and knock over water glasses. I've seen this problem in other cats, but never in any of the 21 cats I have owned over the years.

I always assumed the glass-knocking-over problem was merely indicative of certain personality defects in the owners of said cats. I'll admit, I have always been fairly smug about the genteel behavior of my cats.

But tonight I'm singing a different tune, because the glass-knocking-over problem is happening to me now.

I'm not going down without a fight, however. If this continues, I'm going up the river. And I'm taking names.

Hook & Eye Dutch

Legacy CPW members are well aware of my fascination with religious freaks. Ever since I declared CPW an autonomous dictatorship, there is no First Amendment here which means we are able to place undue burdens on the freedom of religion as often as we'd like. This also means that if you are religious, especially in a Celestial Underwear-wearing or dead-relative-marrying kind of way, we have no qualms about ripping you limb from limb at CPW, the Internets' most friendly, tolerant and inclusive webspace!

Today's lesson in freaky religions is on the Amish. I don't have anything against the Amish, really. As far as I know, they keep to themselves and try hard not to get involved in things like book burning or voting to incinerate homosexuals. Therefore, I pretty much leave them to their barn raisings and other early 19th-century-loving oddities.

But naturally, that won't stop me from making fun of them. What would be the point of that?

One of my favorite things is when whacked out religious groups sub-categorize themselves into even stranger subsets. Like the Mormons with their cute little intragroup arguments on the propriety of marrying off one's 11-year-old daughter to some old geezer who already has three other wives. "You won't let me sell my little girl the minute she starts to menstruate? Fine! I'm starting my own denomination!" I bet the Grand Schism of Mormondom (as I like to call it) involved a conversation exactly like that.

If you're familiar with the Amish, also known as the Pennsylvania Dutch, you may know that they also have several subcategories. My personal favorite is a subset of Amish who consider it too vain and worldly to use buttons. Yes, I said buttons, Gentle Readers. Those round things you use to fasten your sweaters and coats and such. Buttons are strictly verboten in the world of this little Amish sect, and so adherents are instructed to use other means to fasten their clothing, such as hooks & eyes - you know, those things women use to fasten their bras with.

Now don't get me wrong here; hooks & eyes are all well and good. But what really makes me laugh is how the non-Amish refer to these people. When you spend time in places like Wisconsin and Iowa, you get to talk about this stuff a lot, which to me is one of the main benefits of visiting those states.

Like one time when I was visiting Mindy's parents in rural Iowa. We were sitting around discussing corn de-tasseling or some other Iowan thing like that when Mindy's mom started talking about their "Hook & Eye Dutch" neighbors.

"Hook & Eye Dutch?" I replied. "What is that?!"

"The Hook & Eye Dutch! You've never heard of them? It's those Amish people who aren't allowed to use buttons!" Mindy's mom replied. She almost sounded incredulous, as if having a non-button-believing religious sect for your neighbors was the most normal thing in the world.

I suppose it might be when you live in rural Iowa. Which is why every time I go there I come home understanding Mindy just a little bit better than before.



*Props to Pink Fluffy Slippers for putting the whole "Hook & Eye" idea in my head when she blogged about her new hook & eye skirt. She could almost be Amish although she would have to give up her cello.

I'm a Sick F*ck - Glass Bowls

I'm a Sick F*ck is a new CPW series wherein I will share the reasons my Gentle Readers may want to consider having me committed. In fact, I might even end each entry in this series with the words "Perhaps I should be committed."

This morning I had a dream. I was at work in a new office, and needed to use the restroom. I asked someone where it was, and was given a series of confusing directions that took me down various hallways. I kept asking people along the way, until finally I was directed into the lobby of what looked like a restaurant. I saw the door that said MEN and, relieved, stepped in to do my business.

This men's room looked like a small, well appointed apartment with a kitchen and a long dining table. The table was fully set, with dinner plates and glass soup bowls. There was a family sitting and enjoying a meal at one end of the table.

I walked up to the other end of the table and started peeing into one of the soup bowls.

I was thinking "boy, this is embarrassing, having to pee in front of this entire family."

Then, after I left, I started thinking about what I had done. I felt really embarrassed because I suspected I may have been muttering to myself while I was peeing. I do that sometimes.


Perhaps I should be committed.

Let's play dodgeball

My job as a Strategic Sales Executive is sapping my time, as well as what little energy and creativity I ever had. Therefore, I can only rely on the tales of others, such as our lovely (and evil Rachael Ray hating) friend Dale, to inspire me with blog topics. Today's creative plagiarism was borne out of Dale's story of his recent brush with a Z-list celebrity.

My story begins in 1989 when I was still living in Minnesota. Mindy and I, being recent liberal arts college graduates, were working various McJobs, the kind that involve food service, retail, and other gigs that leave you plenty of time to drink and smoke. Since we both worked odd hours, I thought nothing of calling her up at 10:00 pm on a Tuesday night and saying "want to come over and watch movies?"

One night I did just that, and put her in charge of running to the video store to select some filmage. By the time she arrived at my apartment, I had a fresh batch of pig juice (alcholic fruit punch made for doing shots) ready and the VCR primed to enjoy whatever fine cinematic work she had selected. Mindy arrived with the movie "Hairspray."

We were hooked the second the movie began rolling. We laughed hysterically at various times, but otherwise didn't talk much because we were so mesmerized by what was happening on the screen. When it ended and the credits began to roll we both felt incredibly sad that it was over.

"I want to watch it again," I said.

"Ok, lets!" Min replied. So we rewound and watched the whole thing over from start to finish. Except that this time we got up and danced along with every dance number, and we paused and rewound repeatedly during "Ladies' Choice" so that we could each make our own selection.

It was a classic Tom & Mindy evening. Beyond fabulous.

There are many, many perfect little moments in that movie that bear non-stop watching and repeating. One such moment, which happens to be my personal favorite, is right before the dodge ball game between the Special Ed and "normal" kids. There is this blonde gym teacher who belts out in a really hot, raspy voice "OK everyone, let's go, let's play DOOOOODGEBAAAAALLL!!!"

For me, that was just about the most memorable line from the movie. My queeny friend David and I used to walk around the dark streets of Minneapolis after bar-time and randomly scream at each other "Let's play DOOOOODGEBAAAAALLLL!" As only two fags could do.

About three years later I found myself living in Los Angeles working as a technology consultant for the same company I work for today. My duties consisted of going to law firms and bullying their IT departments into installing and maintaining our software, as well as working with the customers to fix whatever bugs that arose post-installation. At certain firms I made weekly or bi-weekly visits to deal with upgrades and the like.

One of my regular clients was this blond woman, Kathleen, whom I loved visiting because she was silly, goofy and kind of a spaz. We would usually spend about half the time working with the software and the other half just laughing at each other. There was something familiar about her that I liked but couldn't quite place. I had thought she kind of reminded me of the gym teacher from "Hairspray," but I figured maybe I had met her somewhere else or something. Anyway, I visited her about once every two weeks for many years.

Flash forward to 1995. By this time I had moved up the chain and had become the Technology Manager in my division, and supervised the techs who did the same kind of work. I started sending Mark, one of the other techs, to do the software work over at Kathleen's firm. One day Mark and I were on a business trip together, and we were talking about some of our customers. I was recalling how much I loved visiting Kathleen, and Mark said "I know, she's great. She's really funny. And she played that gym teacher in "Hairspray!"


I stopped dead in my tracks, and felt the blood begin to drain out of my face. I thought I was going to faint.


"WHAT DID YOU SAY??????" I screamed.


Mark confirmed what I thought I had heard. I totally freaked out. I mean, TOTALLY. I had a complete conniption right in the middle of the street upon hearing this news. Suddenly it all clicked into place. Her goofiness. Her bawdiness. Why I liked visiting her so much. Why she reminded me of the DOOODGEBAAAAALLLL gym teacher.


KATHLEEN WAS THE DOOODGEBAAAAALLLL GYM TEACHER!!!!!


I simply could not believe my good fortune at the realization that I was already so well acquainted, and unknowingly so, with this gem of a C-list celebrity. Especially one that I went around randomly imitating as a stupid, drunk 23 year old.

Having called her weekly for over three years, I had her office phone number memorized. I ran into a pay-phone booth and dialed her right then and there. When her voice mail picked up I shouted "TRACY TURNBLAD IS A HUMAN ROACH-NEST! IS THIS THE CALIBER OF TEENAGER WE WANT REPRESENTING BALTIMORE AT THE AUTO SHOW??????" and then hung up. I was too stunned to go any further.

When I finally reached her in person a few days later, I violently berated her for having kept this juicy tidbit from me all those years. "You have no idea what that movie, and your infamous line, have meant to me!" I told her repeatedly. She giggled, and I could tell she was quite pleased with herself, and me for being such a lunatic and crazed fan.

"God, Tom, calm down! Are you obsessed with me or something? You're not going to try to kill me or anything are you?"

"No, but you do realize that we're best friends now, right?" I replied.

We did become friends after that, and she even joined me and Mindy for Thanksgiving with our friends KC and Kent when they were living in California.

But sadly, about a year later Kathleen left LA for Atlanta, and since then we have lost touch. I hope she's doing well, wherever she is.

Now that I think of it, I should really get down to cyberstalking her one of these days. I mean, what else am I good for anyway?

LET'S PLAY DOOOOODGEBAAAALLLL!

Katie + LeeWee + CP + Jo = Awesome Foursome!

I could not resist getting in on Katie Schwartz's hilarious (to us sick twisted folk at least) series of letters to Lisa Whelchel, previously famous for her portrayal of rich bitch Blair Warner on "Facts of Life" - and now famous for being a pious Kristian homeschooling mom.

Katie has now posted our first ever joint letter to LeeWee. For some reason, talking to Warnsey brings out my inner Valley Girl - my apologies in advance.

Oh, and yes, I am in fact going to Hell. But as cold as it's been here lately it might actually be a relief.

CP

ps: I had a crush on Jo when I was a kid. Could I be any gayer?

Happy Birthday to one of our favorite bloggers!

A little bird told me we have a blogging friend in our little community who is a year older today. Let's toast! With cupcakes!

Help Wanted: Duane Reade/Rite-Aid/Walgreens Counter Clerk

National drugstore chain seeks surly, mildly retarded professional for full-time counter work. Successful applicant will possess no discernable customer service or problem solving skills, yet will have demonstrated ability to ignore long line of customers while taking personal phone calls. Experience with providing churlish responses to customer inquiries is a plus, and applicants with prison or reform school records are strongly encouraged to apply.

Tales of a Strategic Sales Executive: Bitch from Hell *

My first full week as a Strategic Sales Executive has left me exhausted. Mainly because I have a whole line of new products to learn about and I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. It's kind of slow-going when you have so much to slog through. I feel I'm not yet quite behind the 8-ball.

Since I suffer from a chronic self-confidence problem, I feel like my first week was a waste. Except for this one juicy bit I have to tell you: I've already administered my first bitch-slapping. Which is an important milestone in the career of a Strategic Sales Executive, if you ask me. Here's how it happened.

We sold one of my products to one of the Big 4 firms back in November or December. Note the timeline here. We sold it LAST YEAR. I didn't become a Strategic Sales Executive until February 1 of THIS YEAR.

The Account Manager who handles this particular account told me she was going over to this Big 4 firm to do some training on the product and discuss with them some implementation problems they've been having. She invited me to tag along so I could meet them and learn more about this new product. I thought that was really nice of her, and I told her I'd go with her depending on what else came up on my calendar.

This Account Manager sent an email to a group of us asking for a conference call so we could all discuss the account and help her get ready for the training session on Monday. The email went to me (as a courtesy), the technology team, a few other marginally related people, and Anne, the Strategic Account Executive who is in charge of general oversight of this Big 4 account.

I didn't reply right away because I wasn't sure if I was going to participate.

A few hours later, one of the tech consultants and I received the following email from Anne, the Strategic Account Executive:

"Tom and Jim, we would like you to attend the training session at the Big 4 account on Monday. It starts at 3:00, but please arrive no later than 2:30. (no name as a signature)"

Hmmm, I thought to myself. I hadn't even committed to the conference call, let alone the actual training session. I mulled it over, and a few hours later sent the following reply-all email to the conference call group:

"I will make every effort to attend this call. Thanks, Tom"

A few hours later I received the following reply from Anne:

"Tom: We need you at the customer site on Monday. Please be there by 2:30. Thanks."


?????


Did this Strategic Account Executive just issue me a command? WTF? I don't even know this person.

I decided to call one of my Account Manger friends, Kate, who has worked with this group for several years.

"Hi Kate!" I said. After exchanging a few pleasantries, I asked her if she knew this Anne person.

"Oh yes, very well," she replied, rather cheerily. Hmmm.

"Oh. Well.... what is she like?" I asked.

Long pause.

"What's she like?"

"Yes."

Long pause.

"Well...honestly?" Ooh, this sounds promising!

"Yes, honestly."

Kate replied "I've requested several times to be removed from every single one of her accounts."

She went on to explain that Anne is a bitch from hell who would try to order around God Himself if she thought He might actually do her bidding. People involved in this salesy line of work, or at least the ones who are complete assholes, are often like that. Instead of asking people to do things, they just bark out orders, figuring a certain percent of the population will just do what they say even while resenting them for being so bossy.

Well Gentle Readers, the CP is not so easily pushed around. Especially by some bitch from hell whose job title is clearly on par with his own.

I spend too much energy fuming over things like this, especially when I'm new on a job. It's very important to me to be seen as a helpful person and a team player. I've never been one of those "that's not my job" people, because I hate those people. But I decided that the audacity of this Anne person was going to be nipped in the bud, at least as far as my dealings with her are concerned.

I called my boss.

"I just wanted to confirm the duties of my position. Am I supposed to be helping them clean up this mess with the product at the Big 4 firm?"

"Absolutely not," he replied. "I need you to concentrate on making new sales."

Just as I thought.

I related the story of Anne's charming emails. He promptly sent out a reply-all to Anne's message, clarifying my role and telling her he expects no involvement from me on this project.

A few hours later she replied "Ok, sounds good. I just thought he could be there for moral support. But he doesn't have to if you don't want him to."

?????

OMG, what a fucking bitch.

Moral support? She was ordering me to go there to provide moral support? What the fuck does she think I am?

And I love how she tacks on that I don't have to go if my boss "doesn't want me to." Seemingly to imply that if he didn't have an opinion on the matter, my ass would be there if SHE wanted me there.

"Watch your back. She is pure evil and will stab you hard the second she gets a chance," Kate warned me. I checked with my other friends who know her and they all said the same thing.

So now it looks like I have a witch mad at me. Just like poor Dorothy. This is exactly what I need as I begin a new career path as a Strategic Sales Executive.

Just to be safe, I did call my old boss yesterday, asking if (theoretically) I could have my old job back if I wanted it.

I'll keep you posted.

* Inspired by the now defunct Melinda June series, Satan in the Office. Her mom made her take down those posts for fear of professional retribution.

A pair of Celestial Underwear for every pot!

Grant Miller has joined the bandwagon of cool kids by (finally) posting about Mormons.

Pretty much the only joy I derive from Evangelicals is watching them attack Mormons. Like during the Olympics in Salt Lake City, when they cooked up this big scheme to convert the Mormons en masse. That was pretty fucking awesome. Having those two groups at each others' throats gets them off my back for a change.

Katie Schwartz, if you're reading this I think it's about time we get cooking on a joint letter to LeeWee about Mr. Romney. I think she'll agree that one Mormon on Capitol Hill is enough!

Anna Nicole, we will miss you

I am strangely saddened by the news of Anna Nicole's death today.

I had wept for her back in September when her son Daniel died suddenly, having observed in recent years, all too closely, the devastation the loss of a child can have on the parents and family.

George and I watched Anna's TV show religiously, albeit in a gawker-slowdown kind of way. It seemed apparent she had wetbrain from imbibing in too much of God-knows-what over the years. We mocked and ridiculed her each week, and certainly held very little respect for her, if any.

So why am I shedding tears over this news?

Maybe it's because I see Anna Nicole's life as tragic. The girl was from white-trash roots and was making her way in life as a stripper when she had the good fortune to land the Playboy gig that led her down the road to wealth and infamy. If it weren't for that one turn in the road that got her noticed, she would have gone down like so many other poor, uneducated, underserved and underinsured people in this country. Like that inbred cousin who guest starred on her show a few years ago.

And that is something to cry about.

RIP, Anna Nicole. Say 'hi' to Daniel for me.

Can I just tell you?

Our new kittens have taken a shine to our nicest and most expensive piece of furniture, a (formerly) lovely upholstered chair in the living room. If things proceed as they are, this chair will consist of four metal legs and a ball of thread in about three weeks.

My friend Pearl told me to cover the entire chair in Saran Wrap, the idea being that when they try to claw it they will get stuck on the plastic and never go near the chair again.

I'll admit, wrapping the chair was kind of fun, at least after I got the cats to stop trying to play with the plastic while I was unrolling it.

Now that the chair is covered, the cats will not leave it alone. They currently possess little interest in any activity that that doesn't involve climbing all over the chair like monkeys, using it as a launch pad to make gigantic leaps onto the dining room table, playing with the ends of the plastic in an effort to unwrap the chair, and finding ways to go right underneath the wrap so that they can work the upholstery with increased fervor and delight.

This little experiment has failed. Pearl is going to be fired the next time I see her.

Tales of a Snubbing and Other Adventures

I've missed you, Gentle Readers!

My attendance was required at a sales conference in Phoenix this week, and I have just now returned to New York. I could not have gotten out of there fast enough. I can't stand those things.

The following events transpired during my trip:

* I was ignored by an old "friend" whom I helped train back in 1995. He has become a manager in a different division, which apparently makes him too important to talk to me now. Unfortunately for him, he is probably unaware of my recent promotion to Strategic Sales Executive. His ignorance will likely prove tragic for him as I consolidate my new power and set my vindictive gaze upon him. His won't be the first career I've destroyed, and certainly will not be the last. My inner Amanda is already sharpening her claws.

* After said snubbing, I informed another friend of my new-found hatred for the snubber. She looked at me as if I'd had too much wine and was on the way to losing control, both of which may have been true.

* During a company banquet I was declared to be one of the two most attractive sales professionals in my division by one of our drunken sales reps. At first I was pleased, but then spotted a 300+ lb. man completely disrobing at his table while some other colleagues laughed and egged him on. He was really hairy, too. I decided not to take the compliment to heart.

* I cornered my old boss at an awards dinner and demanded a $5,000 payout from a sales contest that my old territory won shortly after I left the territory for a different job within the company. She told me to go fuck myself, albeit in slightly nicer language.

* I sucked up to several bigwigs, one from California, in hopes that he may one day agree to hire me. I also gushed compliments at our new Senior Vice President, partly because I'm nice, partly because I'm a suck-up and partly because he was kind of cute and charming.

* I reminded myself not to repeat George's comments about the Chinese being cheap to my work colleagues. I only partially succeeded at this.


So you see I've been busy, Gentle Readers. But I'm glad to be back here with you.

Love,
CP

Sorry, Gentle Readers

I got the job!

Sorry for the suspense, Gentle Readers, although I'm flattered that events in my hum-drum life are able to arouse at least a mild bit of curiosity.

I was on a very tight schedule yesterday. I had to be at a client's office in New Jersey in the afternoon, and the VP only had a very small window of time to meet with me. I went into his office, shook his hand and he sat down at a conference table across from me, with a serious look on his face. I had a bad feeling.

However, he simply proceeded to question me about the job, confirming my interest in the position, and clarified a few other things. Then he dismissed me, saying I would be hearing from them "in short order."

Then I had to pack up my stuff immediately and head home on the subway to get my car so that I could drive out to New Jersey.

En route to the Holland Tunnel in my car, I had to hang up on my sister when I saw call-waiting from Minnesota, the location of my company's home office. It was my new boss, offering me the job. Woo hoo! Then I almost had an accident in New Jersey, and ended up five minutes late to my meeting. After the meeting I wanted to rush back to NYC because we had dinner plans with some friends, and of course I got lost which is almost par for the course when driving in New Jersey. We were out late, and I didn't have time to log on to tell you the news.

Anyway, I am now a Strategic Sales Executive. I'm already working on my Amanda Woodward impersonation, which I expect to have down pat by next week. I'll get back to you on that.

Thanks to all for your good wishes, and especially to Dale who offered me his mercenary services in case it didn't work out.

CP

ps: Don't tell anyone, but my new boss confided to me that I beat out someone very senior for this job. I wouldn't have chosen myself over this guy, except that I have better personal hygiene. I guess that counts for something.

New job?

Hello all,

In 9 minutes I walk into our VP's office to see if he's going to give me a new job that I've been heavily recruited for by other people in my company.

If I'm rejected after their proactive pursuit of me, I'm going to be pissed. And lucky you, you will get to hear all about it.

Wish me luck!

CP

Another brilliant post from the world of Katie Schwartz

I barely even know where to begin with this one. I'm trying to think of what blunt instrument I would prefer to use on this girl.

I also like Katie's description of her, although I'm a bit shy of using that particular word.

I'm on New Blogger now

Grover Derwood

I was forced to switch to New Blogger this morning. I hope it doesn't give me any problems, becasue I really don't have time for this.

In other news, Dale warned me not to do "all cats all the time" on the blog. I'm just sneaking this one in for lack of any other relevant picture to post.

Did I mention my cats were cuter than all other cats combined?

Songs I will never listen to from start to finish, Vol. 1

Grant Miller and Lulu hate the song Little Drummer Boy. Personally, I think they're much too hard on that little guy. After all, Mary nodded, Jesus smiled, and the ox and lamb kept time - all for him! How could you dislike a little boy who was smiled at by the Lord himself? Grant and Lulu are just a couple of evil bastards without souls.

But I, Coaster Punchman, have a confession to make. I too possess a repertoire of songs I cannot stand, and for a select few of them I have gone so far as to enact the following policy: If one of these songs should come on the radio in my presence, I must either a) change the station; or b) leave the room.

I have never, ever violated this policy with regard to "Every Breath You Take." I cannot STAND that song. I didn't mind it so much in 1983. But one day, some time in 1994, after I had heard it for the billionth time, I decided enough was enough. That song had been played more times than even the entire universe could bear. It had overstayed its welcome. Right then and there I vowed that I would NEVER listen to that song in its entirety, ever, ever again.

It's not always an easy rule to keep, Gentle Readers. In fact, one time, not long after I instated the policy, I got caught in the world's most horrific traffic jam on the Hollywood freeway. The road was a parking lot, for over an hour, with no explanation from anyone on what was causing the holdup. I kept the radio on the entire time, waiting for the traffic report.

One report came - no news. Next report, about twenty minutes later - again, nothing. So I said to myself "self, on the next traffic report they are sure to explain to all us nice people what the fuck is going on with the Hollywood freeway." So I kept the radio tuned to that station.

Another 15 minutes went by, and the freeway was still a parking lot. "Good," I thought. "In just another 5 minutes we'll know what the problem is."

And then it started.

The sickening "thump, thump thump thump thump, thump, thump thump thump thump..." of the opening bars to that fucking song.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" I screamed. "That is NOT FAIR!!!!!!! I've waited ALL THIS TIME!!!!!!" I was quite upset.

But I still changed the station. I had to.

After all, we have policies for a reason. And sometimes there's just no turning back - no matter what the cost.

The Dawn Wiener Files: Twenty years later and he's still a geek

The Dawn Wiener Files is a new CPW series in which I will share painful stories of my moments of childhood geekdom. Unfortunately, sometimes these moments stretch all the way into adulthood. But I know you all enjoy a good cringe-fest, or else you wouldn't still be here.

Guest editors are welcome in this series - just email me your submissions and we'll talk.

I was prompted to post this first edition of The Dawn Wiener Files by some work colleagues who were discussing high school reunions with me recently. My 20th reunion occurred a few years ago. I could not attend because I was going to be on vacation in Europe, but still enjoyed a lot of email and Internet hubbub over the event.

One day in a grocery store near my parents' house, I was walking past a woman who looked my way and said "Tom?" I didn't recognize her. I haven't lived in that area since I graduated high school, and am only around sporadically.

"Hello..." I said, ever so hesitantly.

"Tom, it's Marissa, from Palatine High!"

"Oh, Marissa! Hi!" We hugged briefly. I finally recognized her - we had been in the same class from fifth grade through high school.

I was glad to see Marissa, because I liked her and we'd always gotten along well. But our very casual friendship crossed cultural lines; she was squarely rooted in our high school's popular crowd, whereas I was definitely well on the outskirts of that group. And although Marissa had never personally been mean to me, I always viewed her as an ambassador of the cool. A person who could make or break you with her extensive network of social connections. The type of person who has to be handled very, very carefully.

We chatted about our lives and the upcoming reunion for a few minutes, and decided to exchange email addresses since I wouldn't be attending. We both searched our pockets for something to write on, but neither of us could find anything.

"Wait a second, my husband's right over there. I'll see if he has something," she said. A few seconds later Marissa returned with her husband in tow, and made the appropriate introductions. "Hey, give Tom one of your cards so we can trade emails," she said.

Marissa's very handsome husband opened his wallet and handed me a card. "Great!" I exclaimed, happy that we would each be able to write down our emails. I proceeded to rip the card in half so that I could give her the other half.

Ripped. His card. In half. Just seconds after he handed it to me.

Nice going, Tom.

A split second after my little gaffe, I haltingly mumbled "oh.... I guess.... maybe I could have just emailed your husband....."

She giggled.

"I'm sorry I ripped your business card," I said sheepishly. I was mortified.

"Oh, that's ok. I'm sure people have done much worse to it," he replied, magnanimously.

What an asshole. Twenty years out of high school and I still can't play it cool. I still wonder what Marissa must have told the rest of her A-list friends about me.

Yours in geekdom,
CP

ps: For anyone who is wondering, I did email Marissa's husband. And never heard back from either of them.

Katie + Blair = Love

Every now and again a blogger tickles my fancy just enough that I am compelled to plug her over here at CPW.

My latest favorite blogging event is a series Katie Schwartz has running on Lisa Whelchel, the buxom gal who played rich bitch Blair Warner on "The Facts of Life." I had read about Leezy becoming a Kristian and homeschooling her kids and such years ago, and as most of you know, I continue to harbor a sick fascination for religious zealots.

Katie has developed her own fascination with Leewee, which she demonstrates to her readership through a series of fan letters to Warnsey.

Oddly enough, Ms. Whelchel has as yet failed to respond to any of Katie's inquiries.

I think it's important that we continue to work to bring semi-obscure celebrities back into the limelight, as the South Park boys did for Brian Boitano. This is what endears Katie to me.

It is a new year, and as usual the notion of trying to be a nice person has crossed my mind. I am a bad man for continuing to egg Katie on in this manner.

But I can't help it. It's just too much fun.

Katie has too many Blair posts scattered about her blog for me to be able to reference every one of them individually, so if you are C-list obsessed like me, I encourage you to browse her archives to read her sundry tributes to Lisa.

But really, who's keeping score?

Number of holiday cards sent: 106

Number of thoughtful friends and relatives: 58

Number of self-absorbed ingrates: 48

Number of thoughtful parties we snubbed, probably for good reason: 4


(NB: Next year, those who send e-greetings will receive half credit)

A call for applications

Legacy CPW members may recall that Mindy June and I maintain a separate American Idol blog so as to spare our everyday non-AI readers the agony of our endlessly annoying commentary.

We are hoping to attract more commentators for the upcoming 2007 season, and would like to invite any or all of you to apply for membership in American Idolarty: We Judge the Idols!

Mindy June has posted the application procedure on the site. You can email your request to join directly to me at cp.marytylermoore@yahoo.com, or by commenting on any of our blogs.

Note: Your blog must be on the New Blogger (formerly Blogger Beta) for you to be able to participate. This means I will have to switch over, which I am not looking forward to. My very most favorite thing in the universe (NOT!) is to spend ten hours dinking around with settings on my computer. Blech.

Divas and pin-ups and saints, oh my!

Jennifer Hudson has finally matched Judy's moment of magic in "A Star is Born"

I'm still on vacation the rest of this week, thank the good Lord.

Today I get to recover from our New Year's festivities. I begin my day of recovery by ignoring George's admonitions to "stay off the couch." Yeah, right, Georgie boy.

This morning's first couch session includes a double feature picture show, beginning with "Mother Theresa" - a biography of this lovely pious woman. I was interested to learn more about her history, but once it got going I found myself not that interested in the rest of the film. Just one more reason I'm headed straight for Hell, I suppose.



Mother Theresa has just finished pontificating on the blessedness of being poor and wretched in Calcutta, and so we continue our Double Feature with a film biography of Bettie Page. I know naught of this woman as of right now, but in approximately 90 minutes I will know a lot more. Then, Bubs and I will become even better friends.



But as soon as I get off the couch (maybe tomorrow?) the first thing I am doing is taking myself to the good ole' movie the-a-ter for an encore showing of Dreamgirls, which George and I saw during the afternoon of New Year's Eve.

George was not enthused when I first suggested this movie. I believe his exact words were "why do we have to go see that? Doesn't that Beyoncé woman have 'bitch' written all over her?" But despite his initial reluctance, he ended up really enjoying himself. As did I.



The crown jewel moment of the film, if you have not heard by now, was Jennifer Hudson's show stopping performance of "And I Am Telling You." Even though we were not in a live the-a-ter, she brought the house all the way down. People cheered and applauded her, and rightfully so since it was by far the best female vocal performance in a film since Judy Garland sang "The Man that Got Away" back in 1954. She was AMAZING. I get chills just thinking about it.

And to think, that little girl just came out of nowhere. Double props to Mindy June for being her first champion on American Idol.

I have to go now, Gentle Readers. I may be developing a bedsore, so it's time to flip over.

Happy Birthday to Me

Tired kitties

It's amazing how sweet they can look when they try.

About twenty minutes ago I was in the bathroom when I heard a tremendous crash coming from the bedroom. When I went to investigate, I found an enormous aloe plant face down on the floor amidst the shattered remains of its clay pot.

Grover and Ava are still in hiding. Good thing.

CP and the "Star Wars" block

In 1977 I was sent away to live with a foster family for part of the summer, due to some extraordinary problems my parents were facing at the time. It's not as shocking as it sounds, because it wasn't really a foster family - it was close friends of ours who had always been like a second family to me.

The parents of this family were excellent role models for both me and their birth children, and I have always felt they saved me, at least somewhat, from turning out as crazy as my brothers. They taught me that one needn't behave like a raving lunatic to lead a normal life.

Trust me, spending extended periods of time in their house was a real eye opener.

The father of this family thought it would be a special treat to take me to see "Star Wars" when it opened. So he and I went, just the two of us. It's like it was supposed to be some special father-foster-son outing for the day. How nice.

Unfortunately, although I generally loved going to the movies, I can't say that I enjoyed "Star Wars" at all. Not even the tiniest bit. In fact, I pretty much hated it. I got confused about the plot almost immediately, and at one point even fell asleep. Here is a summary of what I extracted from the film:

* Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia were the good guys.

* Darth Vader was the bad guy.

* There were these other guys named Han Solo and Obi-Wan Kenobi, but I had no idea what their deal was.

* Artoo Deetoo and C3PO were these silly robots who ambled around doing a "Laurel & Hardy" routine and seemed to be there mainly for comic relief.

* There was a Bigfoot-type creature named Chewbacca who grunted a lot and otherwise served no purpose that I was aware of.

* A LOT of REALLY BORING spaceship flying scenes and sundry battles took place, and then Luke swung Princess Leia somewhere on a rope.


That is pretty much what I walked away with. So much for our father-foster-son outing. But at least I got popcorn, from what I remember.


When I got back to school in the fall, I noticed that all my friends were gaga over this movie to the point where they could talk about little else. I felt left out and inadequate. I was downright ashamed to admit I had seen the film and couldn't make heads or tails out of it.

Over the years I have seen a few of the other "Star Wars" films and walked away similarly confused each time.


Apparently, I've been suffering from a "Star Wars" block for almost thirty years.


Flash forward to today. Twice in the past several weeks I heard about people watching "Star Wars" to comfort themselves in times of need. My brother-in-law recently had some heavy-duty surgery that required an extended recuperation period, and according to my sister he spent the first day out of the hospital watching all the "Star Wars" movies back-to-back.

Then my friend KC reported that her toddler son, who just had his tonsils out, spent part of his first day home sitting in front of the television, completely absorbed in "Star Wars."

"Ok, this is fucked up," I thought to myself. "I'm a fucking Georgetown graduate and yet am unable to comprehend this movie, while my friend's pre-schooler is totally into it. This just can't be. I have to figure this out."

So off to Blockbuster I went, and rented "Star Wars." I came home and immediately inserted the DVD.

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away....

I remembered this part, with the text rolling backwards, diagonally into the screen.

Then I read the rest of the paragraph. Something about a civil war... wait, what was that?


I hit rewind. I read the paragraph again. Still, no fucking clue.


I finally understood what the problem was. This is a classic example of something akin to my occasional aural comprehension problem that I described in a recent post. For some odd reason, I found it almost impossible to absorb the meaning of this paragraph, and had to rewind about five times to make any sense of it.

What the FUCK is my problem? What????

Anyway, once I read the paragraph numerous times and absorbed the meaning into my pea-sized brain, the rest of the movie was a snap. But I can see why I was so confused all these years. Without understanding the basic framework of what was happening, as explained in that opening paragraph, it would be kind of difficult to piece together all the intergalactic shoot-em-ups and laser sword fights and all that.

I then watched the movie from start to finish and understood everything that was going on.

Now I feel like I've accomplished so much. At least for a retard.

Still, I can't say I'm overly impressed with this whole "Star Wars" obsession that seems to occupy about 95% of the rest of the world. In fact, it seems to me the filmmakers went on quite a while about a plot that can be described in under three minutes.

For any of the other retards out there who were unable to comprehend "Star Wars," here is a synopsis for you:

* Princess Leia reigns over a population that has been conquered by an evil Empire, headed in part by Darth Vader. The Empire knows she's up to no good and captures her. She wears her hair in an attractive cinnamon pastry bun style.

* Leia has stolen some plans for a Death Star that the Empire plans to use to blow up planets and other shit. She stored information about these plans in Artoo Deetoo and is hoping to get help from Obi-Wan Kenobi.

* Luke Skywalker knows Obi-Wan and gets recruited by him to help in the struggle against the Empire. Luke also develops the hots for Leia.

* Luke and Obi-Wan hire Han Solo and his lackey Chewbacca to fly a ship for them. In a deleted scene available only on adult pay-per-view, Han and Luke get into a wresting match during which Han completely overpowers Luke, rips off all his clothing and puts him in a dog collar. Luke turns completely subservient and becomes Han's little prison-bitch. (Ok, wishful thinking.)

* Darth had been a student of Obi-Wan years ago, but is now evil. They have a neat laser-sword fight.

* A bunch of other violent stuff happens, and then Luke, Han, Leia and Obi-Wan win the battle.

The end.


Now that wasn't so bad, was it?

Presenting

The Earl and Duchess of Canterbury by Way of Huntington:


Grover Derwood


and

Ava Wilhemina

Weird things for Katie

Katie Schwartz tagged me about a year ago asking me to list some weird things about myself. These aren't really funny or even entertaining, but I can guarantee you they are weird. Enjoy.

1. I'm afraid of escalators. Mostly when they are going down. I absolutely, positively cannot step onto a down escalator unless I have at least one free hand to hold the rail. And if there is a crowd of people behind me, I have to let a bunch of people go ahead of me because I usually have several false starts when trying to step on. It's really embarrassing, and I don't even know how this phobia started. It's like one day I woke up and decided to be afraid of escalators. Who the hell knows.

2. I am terrfied of choking. Often, while eating, I recall a grade-school movie about how to do the Heimlich maneuver. I especially remember this lady who was putting away meat in a Tupperware. She put a small slice of beef in her mouth, choked, and had to give herself the Heimlich maneuver using the back of a chair. It was really gross, so I decided I never needed to go through that. Hence, I became terrified of choking. When I am eating, if I think about any of this I start to fear that I will choke right then and there. Then I cough and slap myself on the chest, generally scaring the shit out of whomever is eating with me. Consequently, I am forced to eat alone more and more frequently.

3. I go through spells where I suffer from a serious aural comprehension problem. Someone will be talking to me and I will realize at some point that I have no idea what they have been saying. So I try to start listening and instead of hearing what they say, I become fixated on the person's physical act of speaking. I watch the month, listen to the sounds of the words coming out of the mouth, and try to detect an accent. And then when the person asks me a question related to what they have been saying, I am fucked.

Sometimes I don't even understand the simplest things, especially if a foreign accent is involved. Last week I bought a sandwich and a cup of soup from a carry-out deli. As I was paying, the cashier said "you get one soda with this." I had NO idea what she said. I thought she was trying to explain the price to me or something. "Just tell me how much it costs, and I'll pay" I kept saying. She looked at me like I was retarded and just said "one soda. Take one soda." When I finally caught on, I felt like a damn fool.

4. There is a certain curse that follows me around where I am denied beverages in restaurants. Furthermore, at least twice I have been reprimanded by waiters for daring to ask (a second time) for my beverage after my food has been served. It is a proven fact that something about my aura triggers this phenomenon, because several friends have noticed that it only happens to them when I am around.

In short, I am a fucking freak. Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas!

Mindy June called me on Christmas Eve and the first thing out of her mouth was "is it true you have not blogged since December 10? Because I'm thinking something might be wrong with my computer."

"Oh, has it been that long?"

"Yes. You'd better get on the ball, or you're going to lose all your readers."

(CP shrinks in horror.)

I truly am sorry for the extended absence, Gentle Readers. I've been on vacation from work, and I guess my sense of having no responsibility must have spilled over into other parts of my life, like blogging and personal hygiene.

For what it's worth, a vacation where I don't have to travel OR manage psychotic family members was just what I needed. And it's going to continue until January 8. My life fucking ROCKS right now.

Christmas was lovely. Christmas Eve was all-Norwegian-all-the-time, complete with a Norwegian church service and baptism, a buffet dinner that shocked and horrified George, and dancing around the Christmas tree on the roof of the church. It should be noted that Poor George pleased our fellow celebrants with his moving rendition of O Jul med Din Glede, despite his apparent belief that Norwegian carols sound best when sung by the mildly retarded.

We had a peaceful Christmas day, having enjoyed a sumptuous dinner of lobster bisque, rib roast, pan roasted fennel, and baked potatoes, capped off with desserts by Jin. Oddrun and Ruby joined us in our home for this wonderful meal.

And all the while, the crazies remained at a safe distance from me, back in Illinois.

Peace and joy to all of you, my Gentle Readers. I will be back soon.

Love,
CP

ps: We have two new kittens. I'm not planning to post about them until we have a new digital camera, since it would practically violate the Geneva Convention to deny you visuals of these cats, the cutest ever to visit this Earth. Not that I'm biased or anything.

In response to those angry mommies

CPW has been receiving angry letters from the same kinds of mommies who, as Lulu noted in her comments to my post below, protested a Chicago cafe after the owner posted a sign requesting children to use their "indoor voices" while on the premises. I have been questioned extensively, along the lines of "when did you first start to hate children?" and "where do you live, so that I can come over and show you MY indoor voice, you son-of-a-bitch?"

Well, dear mommies, this is just a little post to let you know that I don't hate children at all. I think they're kind of cute. I really only hate YOU when you fail to live up to your responsibility to teach them how to behave in public.

Here's a little pic just to prove to you what a softy I am with the kiddies. My friend Kapooch just had her first dumpling last year, Lara. Lara LOOOOOVES the CP, as I found when I took her inside during a complete screaming fit she was having as Kapooch was trying to enjoy a cocktail with some friends. I'm no one to let a screaming kid get in the way of mommy's cocktail hour!

In fact, little Lara and I discovered that night that just a tiny dip of the pacifier in one of CP's gin gimlets calms a little one's tantrum quite nicely. Especially when repeated several times.

I have SO missed my calling in the world.

Even Annie can't kick out these blues

I loved the musical "Annie" when I was a kid. I still do actually, though I haven't seen a professional production of it since about 1979.

My love for this show began on a couch in the music room of the house I grew up in. I had severely sprained my ankle when I was twelve, resulting in my getting to stay home on that couch for a whole week instead of going to school. Rock on.

My mom knew what a junky I was for Broadway musicals, so to cheer me up she brought me home the original cast album of "Annie," which was the new smash Broadway hit at the time. As soon as she started up the record player and Andrea McArdle belted out the first heart-string tugging lines of "Maybe," I knew I was hooked. I had every line for every song memorized by the end of the week.

I listened to that album so many times that today, nearly thirty years later, I still know every word to every song. I thought this was normal behavior until one night at Marie's Crisis, when the crowd was singing the entire soundtrack to "Annie." I frequently noticed I was the only one singing; no one else seemed to know those lyrics like I did.

At one point I was stared down shamelessly by a group of drunk young women as I belted out the whole "Yank the whiskers from her chin!!!" interlude from "Hard Knock Life" with the enthusiasm of a junior-high cheerleading squad.


Could there even possibly be anything gayer than that?


Anyway, imagine my excitement when I heard about the new "Annie" national tour coming to New York! I immediately signed up to get us tickets for the show at the Madison Square Garden theater. George and I went last night.

Before you ask me how it was, I'll tell you this: if you ever have the chance to see a legitimate work of theater in your life, I would strongly encourage you not to do it in a venue that simultaneously offers NBA basketball and/or professional boxing as entertainment. Let's just say that this was not your typical sophisticated New York crowd.

For starters, I should not have been surprised that the audience consisted almost entirely of children under the age of seven with their parents, although one does wonder why someone would want to spend $60 per ticket and up on taking a kid to a show that he or she will likely not appreciate.

I am further disheartened that parents today do not seem interested in teaching their children to behave in public at all, let alone sit quietly through a performance that the rest of us have paid good money to see.

As we endured an evening amongst full voice parent-child conversations and tantrums as loud as ten freight trains, I experienced multiple flashbacks of sitting in church as a child and having my arm nearly ripped out of its socket for daring to make any noise louder than a pin dropping. As harsh as they were at times, at least my parents knew what they were doing with regard to teaching me public decorum.

To make matters worse, Madison Square Garden treats the subject of "theater" with all the grace befitting an Evander Holyfield match. The ushers actually walked up and down the aisles of the theater selling popcorn, beer, Coca-Cola, cotton candy and "Annie" memorabilia. I have personally attended pro-wrestling tournaments that had less noisy hubbub and commotion than this so-called "theater" at Madison Square Garden.

The show itself, or what we heard of it, was passable - though barely. In all fairness to the performers, I would like to see them again in a proper venue, or at least one that wouldn't necessarily require a thorough hand-washing after touching one of the seats. But that's just me.

As sad as it is to admit, I've seen not one but two community theater productions of "Annie" that far outshone the spectacle I witnessed last night. And for less than a quarter the price, too. So much for our hip, sophisticated New York lifestyle.

Damn.

A Meme for Katelah

Our favorite Jewess blogger, Katie Schwartz, has requested I complete the following questionnaire. So enjoy. Or not.


DO YOU SNORE?
I take the fifth on this one. I say 'no' but my better half says 'yes'.....


ARE YOU A LOVER OR A FIGHTER?
Like Rodney Dangerfield, I AM a lover, not a fighter.


WHAT'S YOUR WORST FEAR?
Demonic possession. I hate that all this fanfare is back ever since that damn Emily Rose movie. I had enough problems getting The Exorcist out of my system, and now this. This afternoon our doorbell rang on its own just as I finished watching a documentary about exorcisms. Let's just say the court was not amused.


AS A KID, WERE YOU A LEGO MANIAC?
Although I did play with Lego, I would not categorize myself as a Lego-maniac. That would be excessive.


WHAT DO YOU THINK OF REALITY TV?
Survivor: Never seen it
American Idol: Live for it
The Real World: What a dumb pile of crap
Amish in the City: Lived for it
My Big Fax Obnoxious Fiancee: Lived for it and laughed my ass off every week. We need more practical joke-TV like that.
Mad Mad House: My ABSOLUTE favorite. This was a Real-World/Survivor type show on the Sci-Fi Channel where a group of contestants had to live with these extremely "alternative" people, who would judge the contestants and kick one person out each week. They would make the contestants bob apples from vats of pig blood and that sort of thing. The kicker was that the criteria for getting to stay was never made clear, and the alternative people would just say things like "I don't feel you're trying to grow spiritually with us" and shit like that. It was HYSTERICAL. Unfortunately I couldn't see all the episodes so I don't even know who won.

The Mad Mad House judges

DO YOU CHEW ON YOUR STRAWS?
No. I'm afraid to ingest my lipstick.


WERE YOU A CUTE BABY?
You decide.


IS THE SINGLE LIFE FOR YOU?
When I was single, I would have said yes. Now that I'm fake-married, I'd get my ass kicked if I said that. I love my fake-spouse, but I'd be about 25 pounds lighter if I were single. So it's a give-and-take kind of thing.


WHAT COLOR IS YOUR KEYBOARD?
Black as the heart of the devil.


DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER?
Yes. Why do people sound better in the shower? Why is that?


HAVE YOU EVER BUNGEE JUMPED?
No. In fact, hell no!


ANY SECRET TALENTS?
I learned the song Fifty Nifty United States in sixth grade and I still know all the words, including the part where you name all the states in alphabetical order. Cool beans.


WHAT'S YOUR IDEAL VACATION SPOT?
Places I haven't been that I want to hit next: Peru, Australia, New Zealand
Places I've been that I love: Amsterdam (and not just for the drugs), Hawaii, Jamestown ND.


CAN YOU SWIM?
Yes.


HAVE YOU SEEN THE MOVIE DONNIE DARKO?
No.


DO YOU GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE OZONE?
Yes.


HOW MANY LICKS DOES IT TAKE TO GET TO THE CENTER OF A TOOTSIE POP?
I hated that stupid owl. In the realm of cartoon owls, I was a Woodsy loyalist. "Give a hoot. Don't pollute!" Whatever happened to him?


CAN YOU SING THE ALPHABET BACKWARDS?
Yes! I suppose that may be another secret talent.


DO YOU PREFER ELECTRIC OR MANUAL PENCIL SHARPENER?
Electric. Those manual ones remind me of grade school when Mrs. Daniels would yell at anyone who dared approach the sharpener without her express permission. I don't know what her problem was.


WHAT'S YOUR STAND ON HUNTING?
I love animals. They're delicious!


IS MARRIAGE IN YOUR FUTURE?
Grrr. People always ask if George and I want to have some sort of ceremony and I usually say "no" because I don't want a fake marriage. The big bang with marriage is being able to take advantage of the benefits given by the federal government, like social security. Until we can have that like everyone else, I'm not playing. I have several straight friends (aside from Brangelina) who have decided not to marry until their gay friends are able to as well. I applaud them for taking this stand.


DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
I don't mind it. I type so much faster than I write that I don't like to do it because it seems to take so long. Also, now that I rarely hand write, I seem to have developed a system of half-printing half-cursive. It's groovy Greg & Marcia.


WHAT ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO?
Strangely enough, I believe I am just slightly allergic to cats. Now that we no longer have Betty, I sneeze a lot whenever I go over to Oddrun's. But I don't care - I'm still getting a cat in December.


WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAID, I LOVE YOU?
This morning. At that crucial, pleasurable moment. Unfortunately, I was alone.


DO YOU CRY AT WEDDINGS?
I used to, but now they piss me off. So no, I don't cry.


HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS?
Scrambled, with cheese. And not too hard either.


ARE BLONDES DUMB?
Not nearly as dumb as gingers. Ask Mindy.


WHERE DOES THE OTHER SOCK END UP?
My ass.


WHAT TIME IS IT?
8:37 PM. Uncanny, as Katelah's said 3:37. Maybe I'll start some ritual at the 37th of every hour. Something dirty and genitals-related since Katelah is involved.


DO YOU HAVE A NICKNAME?
My real name is Thomas. Most friends call me Tom. One or two friends call me Tommy, but my mom would shit if she knew, so don't tell her. My adoring readership calls me CP, or some variation thereof. Certain business people address me formally by my last name, as in "Mr. H." I kind of like it. I also love it when kids on the street call me "mister" or "sir." Which isn't bad, considering some of the things you hear out of kids' mouths on the streets of New York Shitty.


IS MCDONALDS DISGUSTING?
I do like the taste of the stuff, sadly.


WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WERE IN A CAR?
Yesterday afternoon. What the fuck is it with some of these stupid questions?


DO YOU PREFER BATHS OR SHOWERS?
Both - depends on what my goal is. A nice soak in the tub is good to relax, but showering seems more sanitary and less trouble.


IS SANTA CLAUS REAL?
No, as my asshole brother made sure I knew when I was about 5.


DO YOU LIKE TO HAVE YOUR NECK KISSED?
Love it. Even more so, however, I like kissing necks. Biting them too. Just short of drawing blood, but I'm working my way up to that.


ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK?
Kind of.


WHAT ARE YOU ADDICTED TO?
Junk food. Crippling inactivity. The Internet, and not just for porn.


CRUNCHY OR CREAMY PEANUT BUTTER?
Creamy.


CAN YOU CRACK YOUR NECK?
I used to, but ever since I started having spinal problems I don't do anything like that.


HAVE YOU EVER RIDDEN IN AN AMBULANCE?
Only once, with a friend who was dying. It was horrible.


IS DRUG FREE THE WAY TO BE?
Yes. Pot doesn't bother me if other people smoke it, but I am way too sensitive to drugs even to do that.


ARE YOU A HEAVY SLEEPER?
Can be.


WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EYES?
Brown, with enough green mixed in them that they are technically hazel. Wearing green or olive really brings it out.


DO YOU LIKE YOUR LIFE?
Certain parts of it.


ARE YOU PSYCHIC?
A bit. I've had some experiences where I know a friend is suffering even though they are far away. Other times I will dream about someone I haven't talked to in years and the next day I will hear from them or hear news about them.


HAVE YOU READ CATCHER IN THE RYE?
Several times.


DO YOU PLAY ANY INSTRUMENTS?
Piano, which I still play. I know how to play the violin although I no longer play it.


HAVE YOU EVER STOLEN MONEY?
Change off my dad's dresser. I'm certain it pissed him off.


CAN YOU SNOWBOARD?
No - and it looks like something I would break my neck at.


DO YOU LIKE CAMPING?
Love it. I was a Boy Scout for God's sake.


DO YOU SNORT WHEN YOU LAUGH?
No.


DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC?
That's kind of an obscure question. What kind of magic are we talking about?


ARE DOGS A MAN'S BEST FRIEND?
I always thought that was a stupid saying.


YOU BELIEVE IN DIVORCE?
But what about the children???????


CAN YOU DO THE MOONWALK?
Who the FUCK cares?


DO YOU MAKE A LOT OF MISTAKES?
Constantly. I don't care. When I worked in a large NY law firm I think I pissed off another lawyer by not caring that I made mistakes. One time I made an error that could have been a really big deal if we hadn't caught it - but we caught it. I just shrugged my shoulders and said "shoot, that was a mistake." What the hell was I supposed to do - eat crow for a month? I didn't give a shit. I would have been upset if it wasn't correctable of course, but it was.


IS IT COLD OUTSIDE TODAY?
Why on earth is this an interesting question?


WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?
I just had a large dinner of oysters on the half shell with salmon roe; three pieces of yellowtail, salmon and tuna sushi; two pieces of eel. Salad and miso soup. Very full.


DO YOU WEAR NAIL POLISH?
No, though I do get a pedicure about every three weeks. One time I did get clear polish on them which was nice. Didn't really look like polish.


HOW MANY PEOPLE DO YOU LIKE RIGHT NOW?
Do you mean like or like like? I like plenty of people, and I like like two (my better half plus my John Mayer-looking doctor.)


WHAT'S THE MOST ANNOYING TV COMMERCIAL?
The one about Bob, the guy who is happy because he takes that drug for male enhancement.


DO YOU SHOP AT AMERICAN EAGLE?
I think I may have purchased a few things from there more than a decade ago. Again, who the hell cares?


FAVORITE SONG AT THE MOMENT?
I just did a piano arrangement of Fuck and Run which I hope to make part of the home concert series soon.


WHO ARE YOU TAGGING?
Everybody. Sorry that some of the questions are stupid. I didn't write them.