Spanish Inquisition

Gentle Readers,

Couple things:

1. My post is up at the new blog I write for, Our Big Gayborhood. This month's post is on being nosy (hence the "Spanish Inquisition" reference.)

2. There is a major water line break in my REAL gayborhood. Looks like a river in front of my house. I had to move the car so as to avoid it falling into a sink hole. This is not going to be pretty.

Love and coasters,

CP

This guy is my new hero

So this guy from Wisconsin moved to Utah, opened up a beer brewery, billed himself as Another Utah Pioneer! and started marketing this brew:

This is not even a joke. Have you ever anything as wonderful? I have not.

Love and coasters,

CP

Another Awkward Tale - part 5

Gentle Readers,

Happy New Year and happy reading! Part 5 of my Awkward College Romance story is posted here.

It's also my birthday today. Please worship me.

Love and coasters,

CP

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.

OH. MY. GOD.

Meredith Baxter, my muse, as the murderous Betty Broderick

I'm almost late for work but I just had to take the 5 extra minutes to post this.





Longtime fans of Coaster Punchman's World know about my addiction to the CMTVM (Cheesy Made for TV Movie) and it's oh so important sub-genre, the CMTVMMB (Cheesy Made for TV Movie with Meredith Baxter.)





Well Gentle Readers, my favorite uber-mommie-turned-crazy-beyotch has revealed that she is a big ole' lezzie. And I mean that as a compliment.





Some days at CPW are good days, and this is one!





Love and Coasters,


CP

Another story of my awkward youth - part 4

Gentle Readers,

Thanks for bearing with me as I continue to drag out this story, that is if anyone still cares. Part 4 is posted here on the World of Progress online magazine where my saga has been renamed Coaster Punchman and the College Boys. Please leave comments there if you don't mind, although I don't mind if you leave them here too. I'm such a whore for affection, it's pathetic.

Since even Albert Einstein wouldn't remember what this story is all about, I'll provide links to the first three installments:

Read Part One here

Read Part Two here

Read Part Three here



With love and coasters, I remain yours truly,
CP

Jin’s Sweet Box Contest, Or One more way CP is a freak and a total fool

I can barely even begin to explain this. You'll just have to read below.

Our pastry-chef friend Jin recently posted a contest on her blog. She wants her readers to leave a comment stating the most embarrassing story about themselves they can think of. Whichever story makes her laugh the longest and loudest will entitle the reader to one of her special Sweet Boxes.

Now I’m not all that competitional or anything, but seeing as how embarrassing stories (about myself and others) are one of my specialities, I could not resist the urge to throw my name in the hat.

I started to type my comment to Jin (wherein, as you will note below, I state for the record that I could in no way compete with her reader Jay Ferris who boasts a horrifying story of jock itch and professional nudity) but alas, the “comment” was too long for Blogger to publish – leaving me with no choice but to post my entry on my own blog.

So, without any further ado, I respectfully submit the following entry in Jin’s Sweet Box Contest:

I would really like to play this game, but I simply don't believe I could beat Jay. That story is just so nasty.

But actually, I have thought of a story from my childhood that is just so stupid, it's more embarrassing just to think about what was going in my 12 year old pea-brain rather than the embarrassment of being discovered. (I actually never was officially discovered.)

Here's the set up: You may or may not recall a post I did some time ago about my childhood ex-neighbor Jenny. She and I had been best buddies earlier in life but had started to grow apart as we hit the tween years. One time when I was 11 or 12 I decided to mess with her and send her a "secret admirer" letter, not because I secretly admired her, but just because I was a mischievous imp and wanted to screw with her head.

But this was to be no ordinary secret-admirer letter, mind you - that would have been too normal for my pea-brain. Instead I decided she needed something homemade, something artsy and craftsy to show my fake-love for her. So I decided to make her a pillow.

Yes, that would be a pillow, the kind of thing on which you lay your head down at night to help you go to sleep. I have no idea where this random thought came from, but I took to the project with much aplomb.

I dug through some drawers and found some old pieces of upholstery that my mom had used to recover the seats of our dining room chairs a number of years before. I chose for one side of the secret-love-pillow a patterned fabric with a kind of plaid-paisley thing happening. For the other side of the pillow I chose plain green.

Why just plain green for the other side, you may ask? Because I needed a plain side so that I could do some special embroidery work on it. Just to make it extra special.

I took a needle and a spool of ordinary white thread from Kmart and carefully stitched in a large letter "J" on Jenny's pillow. (You know, so it would be an initial of her first name and all to make it really nice.)

I sewed up the sides of the fabric pieces and stuffed it with some old rags or something. The finished product was the saddest little thing I'd ever seen - like a school art project for which even a special-ed kindergartner would have received a D-minus. It was pathetic, but I was still really proud of it.

Then I proceeded to write her a letter (not even disguising my own handwriting) which read something to the effect of "I like you very much and so I made you this pillow. Signed, your secret admirer." And then I mailed it.

A few weeks later my cat had kittens, and when I saw Jenny across the yard one day I asked her if she (and her new best friend Joanne) wanted to come see them. Sure, they said, and they came in to see the new kitties.

As Jenny held one of the sleeping kittens in her hand she said, sotto voce to Joanne, "this kitten is so cute sleeping like this - I should go get her a small pillow." Joanne started snickering, and I asked what was so funny.

Jenny looked at me and rather flatly stated "a secret admirer sent me a pillow."

"A pillow?" I asked, in the sort of "what the fuck" tone that would properly befit that kind of statement.

"Yes, he made me a pillow. You should see it - it has got to be the ugliest thing ever." I couldn't tell if she suspected me, but I played along. She went and got me the pillow and the letter and we all had a good laugh. I could tell she was genuinely confused, as was I, frankly. To this day I still have no idea what possessed me to do such a strange thing.

But as an adult I have come to appreciate it as a kind of private performance art. I would consider doing the same to other people I know today except that technology is so much more sophisticated now - it would be much easier to sniff me out. And as an adult I could probably get arrested - or at least slapped with a restraining order - for doing something so awkward and creepy.

I've never told anyone this story, not even Poor George. Consider this my humble submission to the Sweet Box context.

CP

Suze Orman

Hey y'all, I'm not dead. I've just been busy worshipping at the altar of Suze Orman.

I'll be back with my next installment of "Alyssa Milbert" very soon!

Love and coasters,

CP

Alissa Milbert Can Suck My Balls - Part 5

This is part 5 of a CPW series.

Read Part 1 here

Read Part 2 here

Read Part 3 here

Read Part 4 here

Eventually I wrenched out of Lex a solemn promise that he would introduce me to Palison Yarngrim at his earliest convenience. Over the next few weeks I reminded him of his promise daily, or at least as often as I felt I could without giving him reason to have me killed.

"She TOLD you to call her!" I would lament. "She's going to think you don't like her or that you're snubbing her. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to be on Jellie Joleson's bad side. You should invite her to lunch! And tell her your friend Tom is coming! See how easy that would be? Just pick up the phone! Here, shall I help you dial?"

And then one day I hit the jackpot, pay dirt beyond my wildest imagination. Just as I was about to launch into one of my irritating tirades that would invariably send Lex running into this apartment to bolt the door behind him, he said "Hey Tom, guess what? I got an invitation to Palison's house for her 3rd wedding anniversary party and it says I can bring a friend. Would you like to go? And if I bring you with me will you promise never to speak to me again?"

I was about 65% sure he was just kidding about the never speaking to him part so I eagerly agreed, ready to take my chances that I could be trading in a loyal friend for a night with a washed up Hollywood celebrity. It was an easy choice.

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

On the night of Palison's party I struggled to maintain my composure despite my being dizzy with excitement. "I wonder if Alissa Milbert will be there?" was one of the many recurring thoughts I experienced at regular intervals during the long, slow days that preceded the party. I knew as well as the next crazed stalker that Alissa and Palison had remained close friends ever since the TV show ended; in my mind it was more than likely that she should be invited.

As Lex and I drove up to Palison's rather ordinary house in the Hollywood hills, I made sure to note the address since it would come in handy for future stalking purposes. When she opened the door to receive us, it felt like we were going to any regular Saturday night party and not to the home of one of my childhood idols, save for the fact that Palison greeted us wearing a leather bustier and a matching skirt. It would be explained to us later that leather is the traditional gift for a 3rd wedding anniversary, and therefore Palison billed the evening as her "Leather Anniversary Party." Just another indication of her goddess-liness.

"LEX!" she cried out as she embraced him warmly. And to me she extended her hand, saying "Hi, I'm Palison!" As she ushered us into her living room I immediately resolved to put on my "normal" personality so that I could try to fit in for the evening --- at least as well as a fan-crazed stalker-in-training could try to fit into a room full of leather-clad Hollywood types.

to be continued....................................

My monthly piece is up

Gentle Readers,

My latest piece for A World of Progress Team-Zine is up here. Check it out if you are so inclined. If you are not so inclined, that's fine, but remember you're killing me.

Love,

CP

Sad

I feel like we've lost a really weird family member. He's been part of our lives forever and now, just like that, he's gone. He was one sick fuck, and he will be missed.

RIP, Mikey.

Check this out

Gentle Readers,

I was invited by Lori, author of Hahn at Home, to write for the GLBTQ page of her online zine called A World of Progress TeamZine. I'll be publishing there once a month if all goes as planned.

Here is my first piece, a hysterical (as in angry) rant on Prop 8. How unusual for me!

Enjoy.

CP

I'm still married, but...

I'm too damn mad to write coherently about this. So I'm sending you, my Gentle Readers, over to Melinda June's place for a little common sense on the upholding of Prop 8, with a bit of humor thrown in for good measure. More from me later.

CP

Update: Mama Gin 1923-2009

Poor George asked me to thank you all for your kind comments about Mama Gin. He also wanted me to post this picture of her as a lovely young woman.

George was not happy initially with Mama Gin's celebrity status on the web, but I think I've convinced him that these posts have allowed her to develop a fan base that she would not have had otherwise. It's wonderful that you all know and appreciate her as the quirky woman she was.

Although the picture below is not as flattering as the one above, it is how I - and most of you- will always remember her. Standing in our apartment doorway, issuing edicts and other pronouncements.

Mama Gin

3/25/1923 - 5/4/2009

May she rest in peace.

Why is everyone judging me?

Listen Gentle Readers,

You all need to stop judging me for my beliefs. I am entitled to them - this is a free country.

I have never said ANYTHING against black people. My beliefs have nothing to do with black people. I just think whites should have their own drinking fountains, that's all. That's just the way I was raised.

I hope we can all agree to respect each other. I have nothing against any of you.

CP

I need to clarify

Gentle Readers,

If you've been following the news at all lately, you might be aware of the vicious attacks on me because of statements I made during my on-stage interview in the Mr. Gay California pageant last week.

I have nothing against the Jewish people. I just think that Europe should have remained Aryan and Christian and that we took a wrong turn in 1945 by getting involved in all that. This has nothing at all to do with the Jews.

It saddens to me to see that my beliefs cannot be respected.

CP

CP's Blair Bitch Project: Stillwater, OK

Join CP as he explores his father's abandoned childhood home in Oklahoma.

Poor George and I stopped through my dad's hometown on the cross-country trip we took to move PG and all our stuff from New York to California.

I wasn't absolutely positive at the time of filming that I had the right house, but I later confirmed with my dad that we were on target. He is very excited to see the video, which is why we shot it in the first place. Unfortunately I would never let him see this blog, so I'll have to get it to him another way.

Enjoy.

CP

Alissa Milbert can suck my balls - part 4

This is part 4 of a CPW series

Read Part 1 here

Read Part 2 here

Read Part 3 here

My friend Lex and I would invariably consult with each other before and after our respective dating experiences. Lex played Mary to my Rhoda since he lived downstairs from me and, more notably, was less sarcastic and bitchy.

"How was your evening with D.E.?" he asked me the morning after my less-than-exciting evening out with Carol Burnett's former TV movie co-star.

"Oh, your usual disaster," I replied, wearily.

"Disaster? It couldn't have been all THAT bad, could it?"

"Oh yes, and worse. I'm sure I'll never hear from him again. And why didn't you tell me he was famous?"

"Famous? He's not really famous, is he?"

"Well, he's famous enough to have worked with Carol Burnett!" Lex could be really maddening sometimes. "There I was, sitting with him in El Coyote, about to babble on like some idiot about Carol Burnett, when all the while this guy knows her."

"Yeah, so?" Lex replied with a somewhat puzzled look on his face.

"Lex, he KNOWS Carol Burnett! How could you not tell me this? How could you have let me just go out into the evening like that with this guy who has worked with the greatest comedic actress of the 20th Century? He probably has her phone number, for God's sake! Don't you get it?"

Clearly, he did not. "What does having Carol Burnett's phone number have to do with any of this, Tom? All I did was ask you how your date went. I wasn't expecting a full on interview with 'Access Hollywood.' Just calm down!" Yeah, right, I thought.

He continued. "Did you like him or not? Did you guys talk about anything besides Carol Burnett?"

The truth was, at that moment I could not have cared less what D.E. and I had discussed; the fact that he probably had Carol's phone number was all I could think about and became my central focus. "Maybe I SHOULD try to get to know him better! That way I can look inside his address book, get Carol's phone number and address and then stalk her!"

Lex looked like he was starting to grow concerned.

"Well . . . I don't think I would recommend that particular course of action. And anyway, it seemed like D.E. did like you well enough at my party. Maybe you should call HIM."

"Me? Call HIM? Are you kidding me with this, Lex? I'm not famous enough to call him. In fact, I'm starting to think I'm not famous enough to live here any more. Everyone here is famous except me. I'm a complete nobody. I'm more of a nobody than Pia Zadora even, and THAT says something."

"That's not true, Tom, you're famous to US!" Lex replied, referring to our small group of friends. Sweet as the sentiment was, it was small consolation. I was feeling downright unworthy.

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

A few weeks later I developed a feeling that my luck was about to change when Lex and I walked up the street to attend the Gay Pride parade in West Hollywood. Because you see, Gentle Readers, right there in the parade, on a mid-sized float, amidst the drag queens, leather daddies and dykes on bikes sat Palison Yarngrim, who had in recent years developed a name for herself as a prominent AIDS activist, but who was best known to the world for her delightful portrayal of tween bitch Jellie Joleson on "Little Mouse on the Scarie" in the 1970s. I was absolutely giddy at the sight of this fabulous, yet for all intents and purposes, washed-up TV actor. What an unexpected pleasure, a veritable gold mine of special CP Hollywood moments!

But my pleasure would soon increase exponentially, almost beyond the boundaries of the known universe. As she rode by, Palison looked our way and shouted out "LEX! How ARE you, sweetheart? Call me!!!"

My jaw dropped straight to the ground.

"You KNOW her??? You KNOW Palison?" I blurted out, incredulously.

"Yeah, I know her. We used to work together at Tuesday's Pild," he replied with a maddening air of nonchalance, referring to a well known children's AIDS charity.

"How long were you planning on hiding this from me? What other information are you holding out on?" I immediately demanded a full accounting of every famous person with whom he was on private-phone-number terms. Not that it got me anywhere. Having grown up in Hollywood, Lex was completely unimpressed by any of these things and barely even understood why I was asking.

Poor Lex, I thought. If only HE had grown up in the Midwest, he might understand my particular state of excitement.

....... to be continued ..........

I'm just a-lovin' the new blog layout

These boys are Mormon missionaries, apparently running a mission on the moon. They also have nothing to do with the subject of this post.

Thank God Bubs asked us to help promote Nora in the Fangoria Spooksmodel Contest. If it hadn't been for Bubs' asking us to help out, I never would have tried to give Nora a perma-link on my sidebar, never would have failed miserably at it, and subsequently never would have decided I needed to revamp my blog to join the 21st century (post aught-four.)

My old template would simply not support Nora in all her nursely ghoulishness, and I so wanted to help that I actually began the arduous task of reformatting. Which turned out not to be arduous at all. And is the reason y'all are (maybe not?) enjoying my whole new look.

I lost the bulk of my regular Gentle Readers over the past months, probably ever since Proposition 8 passed when I began to spend months being all angry and serious about it, and losing my mojo for writing in the process.

But that's all water under the bridge now, Gentle Readers, and we start anew.

What has changed the most is that the new template enabled me to do that coolio link thing where I can see immediately which of my stalkees has posted. This saves me the arduous task of clicking into all 50+ of my stalkees' blogs every day to see what is going on. That is the primary reason why I hadn't been reading & commenting on your blogs - it just got too damn hard to keep up with everyone.

So now, I am lovin' the ability to keep up with y'all more easily, Gentle Readers. And I hope you love me stopping over more often now.




Oh please, like we're not all attention whores.

Love & coasters,
CP

Some Guy's "Lose Your Shit Video" series: CP loses his shit over Margaret Cho

I know that my Gentle Readers have senses of humor or else they would not be able to deal with this blog, which would otherwise be seen as nothing but offensive drivel.

Laughter is indeed the best medicine, if I can say that without sounding trite, which I can't really, because it is trite --- but c'mon, work with me here for a minute. Chris over at Some Guy's Blog has developed an interest in those special moments in life where something not quite definable just makes you lose your shit. And he has taken to recording himself enjoying such moments, for example, as in this post.

I've taken it upon myself to find one such moment of my own and foist it upon you, my Gentle Readers. And I'm hereby inviting you to do the same. Find your special moment, record it for future generations to enjoy and post it on your blog as part of the brand new "Some Guy's Lose Your Shit Video" series.

Here's where I lost my own shit:

A few weeks ago, while I was driving to see some clients, I was listening to Margaret Cho on the car stereo. For those who are unfamiliar with Margaret's work, words can't quite describe how vile she can be. She's completely insane. Also, she and I have something in common in our taste for comedy: we both get our kicks making fun of elderly Asian women (she her mother, I my mother-in-law, the infamous Mama Gin.)

Margaret is also big on potty humor, which sometimes I find funny and sometimes not so much. But this bit she does about having to crap her pants while she's in the car just struck me as so hilarious I could not stop laughing. I laughed so hard I was practically hyperventilating and thought I might have to pull over.

I thought this was a fitting first video in this new series on Losing Your Shit, since what made me laugh in the first place was Margaret talking about shitting her pants.

Enjoy.