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.

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

My childhood ex-neighbor Jenny is a total bitch

Trevor in his box.

My new friend Chris over at Inane Thoughts and Insane Ramblings recently bought a new dryer and let his little boy Trevor play in the box.



I am nearly green with envy.



Playing in huge boxes was the coolest thing ever - probably even cooler than building a fort out of sofa cushions and assorted furniture. It probably still is that cool or little Trevor wouldn't be sitting all high & mighty in his box right now.



This post of Chris's reminded me of the time my mom had a new refrigerator delivered to our house. It was the summer before I started 7th grade, when I was 12. My next-door-neighbor, Jenny, was 10.



Jenny and I had been best buds in earlier years, but as we both approached adolescence we didn't hang out so much any more. Not that I didn't want to, but she and her other little friends were starting to do that tween all-girl thing where they would hang out in the bathroom for hours washing each others' hair and trying on bras and stuff. I was totally excluded. Probably a good thing too, because I'd make a hideous drag queen.



Anyway, on this particularly beautiful summer day when I was 12, I hadn't spoken with Jenny for months and months. But about 30 minutes after our new refrigerator arrived, she showed up at my door with her new best friend from down the street, Joanne. I was really happy to see her because I missed hanging out with her, and I was becoming too nerdy for anyone else to want to spend time with me.



"Hey Jenny! How are you?" I said as I opened the door. "Hi, Joanne," I added, a bit less enthusiastically.



"Hi."



"What's going on? Do you want to come in?"



"Did you get a new refrigerator?" Jenny asked.



"Yes, it's really nice- want to see it?"



"No. Do you still have the box?"



"The box?"



"Yeah, you know, the box the refrigerator came in."



"Oh, no, the delivery guys took it away with the old refrigerator."



"Oh, ok. We thought maybe we could play in it. See ya later." They turned to leave.



"You guys, wait!" I called out. "We can do something else if you want!"



"That's ok, we just wanted to see if you had the box. Talk to you soon."





I didn't think much of it at the time because I was used to that sort of thing, being the geek that I was. But tonight, after seeing Chris's post about Trevor and the Box, I came to the conclusion that my childhood ex-neighbor Jenny is a total bitch.



I suppose some scars will never heal.



Sigh.