C-Word Part 3
C-Word #3
The third in the series of C-words was going to be COORDINATOR……Why have a coordinator when you have a caterer? Does he not have the ability to tell when to serve the food? When to cut the cake? When to buss and clear? The post was going to be full of amusing references to the awful coordinators we have dealt with…..such as the one I stuck up the nostril with my fencing saber and backed away from the microphone she was using to try to announce a meal that wasn’t ready……or the battle of Mothra vs. Godzilla: Maggie Lang vs. the Ray-Diator at Moss Landing (Maggie slammed the door on the hot first course to make time for the toasts; Ray-Diator got pliers and pulled the pins on the door……).
Further horrors have intervened rearing ugly C-heads: Coulter and Cornell. Or Conservative.
Memories of 9/11 brought back the ghost of Ann Coulter. At my brother Rob’s wake out in the Hamptons I met a tall, beautiful blonde in a tiny black dress. Legs up to here. All of Rob’s other staff from HarperCollins was there, so I assumed she was one of the girls…..probably the Xerox girl. She was drinking champagne at 11 am from a fatty glass like mine so I was riveted, and was soon shamelessly hitting on her. Wow, she went to Cornell! Go, Rob!! Even his Xerox girl went to Cornell! And what a babe! I did get her number, and her address on the Upper East Side.
I remember her going on about bikers and Gary Condit, and the murder of his intern…….Later, through the champagne haze I remember hearing that she had a TV show, and that Rob was working on her book. TV show? The Xerox girl? On Fox? What is Fox? An adult channel? Who knew?
Later, of course, she dropped Condit and made a career of outrageous attacks on liberals and the re-writing of history (McCarthy was not crazy, Nixon was bright and kind, etc…..).
Rewind to Monday Night Dinner in Cachagua….September 12. Our friends Ben and Cate have a regular table by the wine barrel. Their guests vary, but are always intelligent, graceful, fun and liberal. Monday in walks beautiful florist Kim England with some guy. Kim is one of two or three flower people of the five hundred in the phone book that rule the local roost. Her last dinner at the store was possibly as the date of our friend AJ. AJ had no-showed on us two or three times, so this night we decided to call the place AJ’s Roadhouse, and named each dish after every failed relationship of his we could remember. Ooops.
I felt I owed Kim, plus she has a kind of movie star aura….so I immediately whipped out a bottle of Gruet Rosé and poured fatty San Sebastian glasses for her and the dude….Roy. Then off to the kitchen to actually cook.
When I returned, post entrée, to do my table-hopping routine I made some wry comment about my C-Word campaign, and let drop that I was thinking of putting Coulter above Coordinator. Ben and Cate blanched, and Roy rose from his seat: “You know, she is the formost expert on constitutional law in the country……” Yipes! A fan! Well, I took that course, too….from some famous guy whose name I forget. Cornell is like that: Carl Sagan, Hans Bethe, Nabokov, Vonnegut, Pynchon, Daniel Berrigan….and that constitutional guy.
I told my hitting-on-Ann-as-fellow Cornellians story. Roy was not mollified: “You went to Cornell? You know Ann Coulter?” Clearly not believing this working class, champagne-pouring-for-his-beautiful-date guy could have ever been near the Ivy League.
“Who was Cornell’s most famous football player, then?”
Uhhh…..you mean Ed Marinaro? Who lost out to Archie Manning, father of Peyton, in the Heisman Trophy voting? Yeah, well….we were PE shills together for the Jews……
“You know Ed Marinaro, too!!??” Bullshit.
I explained PE shills. At Cornell, everyone was required to do a semester of PE. The beginning for some weird WASPy reason was to jump stark naked into the Teague Hall pool and stay alive for 15 minutes (this concept of nudity in the Ivy League includes the Yale practice of taking full-length nude fotos of all incoming freshman, supposedly for biometric reasons. Hillary, GWB, Kerry, etc are all on a database somewhere....Imagine!). This was followed by a series of four week programs in various sports: squash, fencing, golf, weightlifting, polo…..The Long Island Jews in the Industrial Labor Relations program were not down with public nudity, or swimming, or sweating away with swords. They were happy to give us goy jocks cash money in exchange for taking care of this for them. It was good money….and what is not to like about free polo, golf, fencing and squash?
I riposted his Ed Marinaro with my obscure claim to fame: “I was Ken Dryden’s roommate.” (Ken Dryden is a God in Canadian Ice Hockey).
“You were Ken Dryden’s roommate! He was the best goalie in the history of hockey! He is president of the Montreal Canadiens!!” Bullshit.
Yeah, well. That is kind of like being head of FEMA……
Roy was not amused. “You fenced at Cornell?” Bullshit.
Yup. And my coach was shot dead by a jealous husband at 82 in Santa Barbara, stark naked. All I remember about fencing is how to open champagne bottles with a saber.
“You can open champagne bottles with a saber?” Bullshit.
Step outside, Sparky! Luckily, Ben Edwards from Heller Estate was there and willing to hold while I hit. I always have a saber handy….in case there is a coordinator, champagne bottle, or arse-hole conservative handy. We walked outside. Ben knelt down, held up the bottle…..and with a Tiger Woods sand wedge swing, I knocked the top of the bottle off into the trees…..
Old Roy was finally silent…..I was exhausted from defending myself. Thank God I did not mention that I am a Sigma Chi……We would still be there. I could probably parlay the Sigma Chi-Cornell thing into a Halliburton contract.
Poor Kim…….
The third in the series of C-words was going to be COORDINATOR……Why have a coordinator when you have a caterer? Does he not have the ability to tell when to serve the food? When to cut the cake? When to buss and clear? The post was going to be full of amusing references to the awful coordinators we have dealt with…..such as the one I stuck up the nostril with my fencing saber and backed away from the microphone she was using to try to announce a meal that wasn’t ready……or the battle of Mothra vs. Godzilla: Maggie Lang vs. the Ray-Diator at Moss Landing (Maggie slammed the door on the hot first course to make time for the toasts; Ray-Diator got pliers and pulled the pins on the door……).
Further horrors have intervened rearing ugly C-heads: Coulter and Cornell. Or Conservative.
Memories of 9/11 brought back the ghost of Ann Coulter. At my brother Rob’s wake out in the Hamptons I met a tall, beautiful blonde in a tiny black dress. Legs up to here. All of Rob’s other staff from HarperCollins was there, so I assumed she was one of the girls…..probably the Xerox girl. She was drinking champagne at 11 am from a fatty glass like mine so I was riveted, and was soon shamelessly hitting on her. Wow, she went to Cornell! Go, Rob!! Even his Xerox girl went to Cornell! And what a babe! I did get her number, and her address on the Upper East Side.
I remember her going on about bikers and Gary Condit, and the murder of his intern…….Later, through the champagne haze I remember hearing that she had a TV show, and that Rob was working on her book. TV show? The Xerox girl? On Fox? What is Fox? An adult channel? Who knew?
Later, of course, she dropped Condit and made a career of outrageous attacks on liberals and the re-writing of history (McCarthy was not crazy, Nixon was bright and kind, etc…..).
Rewind to Monday Night Dinner in Cachagua….September 12. Our friends Ben and Cate have a regular table by the wine barrel. Their guests vary, but are always intelligent, graceful, fun and liberal. Monday in walks beautiful florist Kim England with some guy. Kim is one of two or three flower people of the five hundred in the phone book that rule the local roost. Her last dinner at the store was possibly as the date of our friend AJ. AJ had no-showed on us two or three times, so this night we decided to call the place AJ’s Roadhouse, and named each dish after every failed relationship of his we could remember. Ooops.
I felt I owed Kim, plus she has a kind of movie star aura….so I immediately whipped out a bottle of Gruet Rosé and poured fatty San Sebastian glasses for her and the dude….Roy. Then off to the kitchen to actually cook.
When I returned, post entrée, to do my table-hopping routine I made some wry comment about my C-Word campaign, and let drop that I was thinking of putting Coulter above Coordinator. Ben and Cate blanched, and Roy rose from his seat: “You know, she is the formost expert on constitutional law in the country……” Yipes! A fan! Well, I took that course, too….from some famous guy whose name I forget. Cornell is like that: Carl Sagan, Hans Bethe, Nabokov, Vonnegut, Pynchon, Daniel Berrigan….and that constitutional guy.
I told my hitting-on-Ann-as-fellow Cornellians story. Roy was not mollified: “You went to Cornell? You know Ann Coulter?” Clearly not believing this working class, champagne-pouring-for-his-beautiful-date guy could have ever been near the Ivy League.
“Who was Cornell’s most famous football player, then?”
Uhhh…..you mean Ed Marinaro? Who lost out to Archie Manning, father of Peyton, in the Heisman Trophy voting? Yeah, well….we were PE shills together for the Jews……
“You know Ed Marinaro, too!!??” Bullshit.
I explained PE shills. At Cornell, everyone was required to do a semester of PE. The beginning for some weird WASPy reason was to jump stark naked into the Teague Hall pool and stay alive for 15 minutes (this concept of nudity in the Ivy League includes the Yale practice of taking full-length nude fotos of all incoming freshman, supposedly for biometric reasons. Hillary, GWB, Kerry, etc are all on a database somewhere....Imagine!). This was followed by a series of four week programs in various sports: squash, fencing, golf, weightlifting, polo…..The Long Island Jews in the Industrial Labor Relations program were not down with public nudity, or swimming, or sweating away with swords. They were happy to give us goy jocks cash money in exchange for taking care of this for them. It was good money….and what is not to like about free polo, golf, fencing and squash?
I riposted his Ed Marinaro with my obscure claim to fame: “I was Ken Dryden’s roommate.” (Ken Dryden is a God in Canadian Ice Hockey).
“You were Ken Dryden’s roommate! He was the best goalie in the history of hockey! He is president of the Montreal Canadiens!!” Bullshit.
Yeah, well. That is kind of like being head of FEMA……
Roy was not amused. “You fenced at Cornell?” Bullshit.
Yup. And my coach was shot dead by a jealous husband at 82 in Santa Barbara, stark naked. All I remember about fencing is how to open champagne bottles with a saber.
“You can open champagne bottles with a saber?” Bullshit.
Step outside, Sparky! Luckily, Ben Edwards from Heller Estate was there and willing to hold while I hit. I always have a saber handy….in case there is a coordinator, champagne bottle, or arse-hole conservative handy. We walked outside. Ben knelt down, held up the bottle…..and with a Tiger Woods sand wedge swing, I knocked the top of the bottle off into the trees…..
Old Roy was finally silent…..I was exhausted from defending myself. Thank God I did not mention that I am a Sigma Chi……We would still be there. I could probably parlay the Sigma Chi-Cornell thing into a Halliburton contract.
Poor Kim…….
posted by Txacoli at 11:06 PM
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