gymfail

I am failing terribly at trying to uphold a tough-guy image at the gym. A few months ago I almost fell on my ass trying to put on a pair of long johns. This AM, while I was trying to get my towel from my locker (which was surrounded by a pride of juice-heads), I accidently pulled not just my towel out of my locker, but a pair of Cathy's lacy black panties which had attached themselves to the towel in the dryer. The upward thrust of the towel caused the hidden underwear to detach themselves mid-air and fly into the center of this group. I tried to give a look like "Sup dudes, yeah, these are my chicks. Yeah, I have seen her naked" but I think it read more like"hey pals, I swear I don't wear these (I totally wear these)."

Sherry Kohn For President

My mother is running (unopposed) for Democratic Committee person in our home county. I honestly had no idea that this was an elected position. I hope she remembers that with great power, comes great responsibility for graft and petty larceny. If you think that George Bush mumbled words, wait until the Bucks County Currier Times has to spell my mothers made-up Yiddish words.

If our history books tell us anything, now is the time that my mother will have that affair she has always been threatening my father with. Most likely with one of her junior staffers. Sorry dad. That is what happens with you marry a politician.

What do you think the best campaign slogan for her is:

Sherry Kohn "A Brisket in Every Pot"
Sherry Kohn "I Am So Proud of my Children"
Sherry Kohn "That's the Story"
Sherry Kohn "My Future Daughter-in-Law is Chinese"
Sherry Kohn "No Running in Hallway"

The first Mr. Chung-Kohn

This past Friday, Cathy agreed to let me become her first husband. There was an opening and my credentials were stellar. With Rahm Emmanuel already married, both of the most qualified Jews on the DC market are taken. Sorry ladies.

Cathy's father, in an act of filial understanding, told her that he would be ok if we were married by a "Jewish Priest."

Luckily, my folks rescheduled their trip down to DC to this weekend, where, if all goes according to plan, the entire Kohn clan (Sherry, Lee Kohn, Rebekah, Alex) will go out to lunch with the entire Chung clan (Mr. & Mrs., Dan, Andrea, Audreybaby). No doubt, there will be awkward silences followed by loud Jewish aural blasts from the Kohn side of the table. That is how our people ROLL. We are heading to a Korean restaurant. I have told my dad I will have a print out of directions to the nearest burger place where will go IMMEDIATELY following our lunch.

People keep pestering me about how I popped the question. In order to save myself breath, here is how it all went down:

Friday night was a cloudy, wet, overcast evening. I had spent the afternoon talking with Cathy's folks and convincing them that:

A: I would be good husband material (Qualifications: I can cook a mean kim chi kugel, I learned the four questions at an early age, and, at my bris, I hardly shed a tear and lifted my foreskin triumphantly, clenched fist raised towards the sky.)

and

B: It would be unwise for me to take 10 pounds of marinating Korean short-ribs home with me.

I had a ring burning a hole in my pocket and nagging voice in my head saying, "Stop being a bitch. Ask her now."

I knew Cathy did not like public spectacle, so, I would have to go low-key. My being a romantic, and a lover of the movie Meathballs, I was pushing for something that involved long distance running and camp. However, the weather wasn't working in my favor. My sister tried to get me to hide the ring in a sausage, but we all know that Cathy loves sausage more than she loves me, and we would have never seen the ring again. I was thinking of hiding the ring in a pile of vintage clothes, but Cathy would have seen it and sold it at the store for $40 (plus tax).

So what did I end up doing? You know what, I don't think I am going to tell y'all. Next time you see me, just ask. The breath is worth it and the story is cute. In the end, Cathy shed a few tears and said yes. Or I think she said yes. All I know for sure is that there will be sausage at the wedding (beef) and that all guests will get a 10% discount at the shop.

The visitors

My folks are coming down on Saturday. If anybody is curious as to what they look like in person, keep your eyes peeled to the area around 14th and T. If you are focused, you will probably catch my mother and I speed walking to some destination unknown and Cathy and my father slowly trailing a block or two behind, eating french fries.

Blueberries Hill

How I miss summer. I can't wait to get back on the road in the warm weather.

I secretly recorded this short clip of Cathy last year when we were staying in a little cabin on a low-bush blueberry farm in Maine. This is my own version of Watergate, except the only thing I am exposing is my lovely girlfriends digestive habits. No doubt, this is the end of a long and lovely relationship.

We would wake up every morning, pick enough blueberries to make you sick, and eat them with milk and granola. It was heavenly. Cathy did not want me to post this and says "if I (cathy) don't become queen of dc because of it then you are at fault." Sorry dear. I will make you a crown out of paper clips and gum drops.

The recording is low, so turn it up. For those hard-of-hearing, the text is as follows:

(footsteps)
Cathy: Let's go down, er, want to go up the to the hill first? Er, no, Let's get berries.
Cathy (whispering): (mumbles something that can't be made out, I wish I knew what she said. Any ideas? )
Me (laughing): ok
Cathy (whispering): And then we'll get more on the way back.
Cathy (whispering): And then I'll poop in my pants.
Me: Classy
Cathy: mmm-hmmm

snowedintime

18th St.
Originally uploaded by hairywine

i think my mom now measures snow in batches of cookies.

Bek

My sister has been on my case about not posting about her enough. She thinks I talk about my body hair too much. She wonders why I can't write more stories about her. I find all of this very odd, since most of her childhood was spent trying to avoid any sort of attention brought on by family. Actually, I think she spent a good portion of her childhood crying with embarrassment over something myself or my mother did.

This upcoming snowstorm reminded me of one such incident where I purposefully caused her shame.

When I was in first grade I had a babysitter who told me about a local, nearby hill that had the best sledding around. On a good snow day, it became a slick, thick sheet of ice. I had to go.

The next big storm of the season, I begged my mother to take me there. She bowed to the pressure and so she loaded my friend Jarred, my sister, and yours truly into the maroon station wagon.

When we arrived, I remember the parking lot full of kids running, red-cheeked, and full of excitement. I remember the feeling of energy in the air and the cool breeze. Before the car was even fully parked, I grabbed my blue plastic sled and ran for the first part of the hill. At age six, i was invincible.

In first grade I was still a really tiny kid. It wasn't until the summer of fourth grade that I discovered Beefaroni and Bobs Big Boy and chubbed up (forcing me to purchase my Bar Mitzvah suit from the "husky" section of Fleet's). At the top of the hill, I pounced on my sled and went flying. Quickly, the sheet of ice that the snow-hill had become took control over the sled, my tiny frame adding only enough weight for propulsion, and not enough for control. I started to spin, turning sideways, the entire sled veering to the left. Although I have no recollection of this, the hill was next to the high school football stadium, which was surrounded by an until then unnoticed chain link fence. The sled veered toward the fence. It flipped me around, and I hit the chain link, face first, somehow catching the bottom of the fence in my mouth. I was knocked completely unconscious. The next thing I knew, I was being carried into the ER, my mother screaming for help......

For my mother, the scene at the top of the hill played out something like this:

My mother, sister and friend Jared all ran to the hill after me, thinking they were in for a fun afternoon of sledding followed closely by hot chocolate. My mother watched as I hit the ice and started to loose control. She watched as I nailed the fence. She screamed my name. She screamed it a few times. Then she stole a sled from some kid (awesome) and came down after me. Helped by a couple of father's who were hanging around, they removed the fence from my mouth and carried me up to the car. My mother, directing my sister to stay behind with a known-adult, sped to the nearby hospital, where I was patched up.

For my sister, the scene played a little more like this:

After her annoying little brother jumped out of the car, Bek grabbed her own sled and walked slowly behind my mother, making sure that nobody would think she was related to or knew any of us. In fact, her hope was that, despite her bright pink snow suit and boots stuffed with plastic bag liners, the older kids would think that she was passing through, just another 8 1/2 year old on a smoke-break or back from a date with Chad Allen. Soon, she heard her mother (as usual) causing a scene. "God" she thought, "can't I go anywhere without her drawing attention TO ME?" In her mind, she re-lived a scene a few days before where, fearing that her son was stolen at the local kiddy-city, her mother walked the aisles screaming "Joshie!!" as loud as she could. At that moment, she could have killed to be whisked-away to the life she so desired, away from her annoying family, and living in a mansion with an indoor, rideable train set. Maybe she would even have a black butler.

Eventually, she made her way to the top of the hill, only to see her mother steal a sled from some cute older boy, and go down the hill herself. What was her mother thinking??? The older kids would make fun of her forever for this one. An old lady sledding? Just another stunt her mother was pulling to mortify her. Soon she realized that something was wrong with her brother. Was he hurt??? The action of the hill-side came to a halt as everyone attention focused on her mother and brother. Whatever happened, she felt, Josh MUST have done it on purpose. Soon her mother came storming up the hill, her brother draped over her shoulders, shoving kids, sleds, and parents out of the way. Tears of embarrassment filled Bek's eyes watching the scene. She started to tremble. She just knew, deep down, that whatever happened, she was going to have to move or run-away after this. There was no-way she was going to live this one down. The next thing she knew her mother was yelling at her (as if she did anything wrong?), telling her to stay behind with a neighbor, and she placed Josh in the car and drove off. There was no doubt about it, this was the WORST day of Bek's life.