Winnie Cooper - Episode 2

For those of you who don’t regularly keep up to tabs on the whimsical writings of Pen15, let me catch you up to speed…

In episode one, I met Winnie Cooper from “Wonder Years” (aka Danica McKellar) at a Kinko’s in Burbank where, sadly, I was employed. Somehow, she was able to look past the apron and toner war paint on my face and saw the real me. In a nut shell: We meet, we chat, I walk her to her car, I hear my adult voice reflecting back on this moment 25 years from now, I acquired her contact information. That’s where we left off.

We emailed a few times. Nothing too major, just general “how ya doin”s to and fro. Then it went cold until one fateful day where I was allowed to step beyond the velvet ropes to glimpse inside the “Former Child Star Lounge”.

After months of silence, I got an e-vite to her birthday party. My initial reaction was that it had to be some sort of mistake so I knew had to play this cool. The e-vite did not ask for an RSVP, but I still didn’t want to show up without giving her a heads-up…what if she doesn’t remember me? But I also didn’t want to RSVP too early, because that would give her the opportunity to awkwardly un-invite me. So I decide to RSVP the day of the event. This gives her notice that I will be there and gives her no time to recant. Fifteen minutes after sending my RSVP email saying that I was looking forward to being there, she emails back, “Looking forward to seeing you!” Hmm, maybe I was invited after all.

I run out to the store to buy a broom and some duct tape…

Wait...I suppose I should back this up a step. At age 29, her birthday party was a broomball game. And that may not sound very odd to the many Minnesotans reading this, but it’s pretty strange to play boot hockey in temperature-controlled Los Angeles. She rented out the Culver City ice arena and evidently; she does so EVERY YEAR for her birthday.

I have all my gear, I put on my best shirt and I’m ready to use my Minnesota skills to dominate, Sydney Crosby style. Frankly, I’m pumped to crush Fred Savage into the boards and say something witty like, “Mole!” or “Way to go, Butthead!” or “I’m one of 13 people in the world who own ‘The Wizard’ on DVD!”

On my drive to the arena I get in a fight with my girlfriend over the phone about my intentions of not just playing hockey in boots, but also knocking them with Winnie. We decide to break up, and I calm myself to prepare my entry to the arena. As I walk through the door, I see people of all ages…6 to 66…and it quickly becomes clear that this is a family event. Somehow, I got invited to Winnie Cooper’s family birthday gathering.

No Fred Savage, no best friend Paul (aka Marilyn Manson), no brother Wayne, no other brother that was killed-off in episode one of “Wonder Years”. Just me, Winnie and the family. But the game must go on and it did…awkwardly.

I could never read Winnie’s facial expressions and this night was no exception. Do you remember that look she used to give Kevin where you weren’t sure if she was going to kiss him or slap him? Well, that wasn’t acting. That’s how she looks all the time. I never knew if she hated my guts or if we were about to throw the birthday cake off the table and do it right then and there.

I stumble through the hockey game, meet the family, give a half hug to Winne and I go home. I sent her a thank you note for the invite to the party but again, I don’t hear from her for several months.

When out of nowhere, Winnie emails me an invitation to attend a play she is in, indicating she has left an extra ticket for me at the box office. I tell her I’ll be there, and on my way I stop at Target to buy a new nice shirt, since she’s already seen my only nice one. When I arrive, I’m a bit alarmed to see that the play is “The Vagina Monologues”. If you haven’t seen the play, the title does not mislead: It is 2+ hours of a woman discussing her…um, womanhood.

Arriving a few minutes before curtain (no pun intended), I find my seat and discover that the woman sitting next to me has been waiting for my arrival. I recognize her smiling face from broom ball as Winnie’s mom (her real-life mom, not her “Wonder Years” mom). The next two hours can be described as uncomfortable at best as Winnie laughs and cries about her labia while I share an armrest with her mother.

That evening changed a lot of things for me. I would liken it to being a male gynecologist: It sounds great in theory, but in practice it’s pretty gross.

After that, I never really heard from her again. I’ve dropped her occasional emails just to say hello, but she doesn’t respond. I’d like to think that she changed her email and she never receives them. Or she just doesn’t have the courage to respond because she’s madly in love with me. But even if I ran into her on the street, I’d never know because of her powerful, impossible to interpret stare. I read recently that she’s married now and is pregnant with child. A child that will no doubt confuse an entire generation of men in the same way her mother did.

Here’s to you, the love of my life, Winnie C!

The (St. Patty's Day) Hangover

While I’ve been a drunk for some time, I had never gone out on St. Patrick’s Day until this year. My previous excuses usually revolved around employment commitments between 9 and 5 on weekdays. But being part of the proud elite unemployed 10% of America has freed up my schedule nicely for impromptu drinking.

I got up extra early on this holiday at 10:30 AM and proceeded to call all of my friends to see who was up for this mid-week, all-day drinking festival. Evidently, at the age of 30 friends get “real jobs” or “responsibilities” so I was left to make my way solo to downtown St. Paul for a parade and debauchery. While I only remember parts of the adventure, a diary was kept to chronicle the day…

12:30 PM – My first mistake was going completely sober to a parade of drunken idiots.

12:31 PM – Duck into an adult establishment to catch up.

12:49 PM – I run into an old high school female friend. She’s still pretty cute, so I take a seat.

12:51 PM – I have now asked 7 times if she has a boyfriend. All 7 times she did.

12:53 PM – I find out she is an elementary school gym teacher and is playing hooky from school with mothers of her students.

12:55 PM – I examine all mothers. They all have wedding rings except for the fat one… who has now asked me 7 times if I had a girlfriend. All 7 times I did.

1:07 PM – I’m bored with the cougars so I walk around the bar.

1:27 PM – I run into a gal I find quite attractive, so I strike up witty banter.

2:45 PM – I make-out with gal I find quite attractive.

3:17 PM – My buddy arrives and tells me that the gal I find quite attractive is not attractive.

4:11 PM – I find a MUCH less attractive girl and within 15 seconds of our conversation she proclaims to me, “You’re cute. We’ll make out later.”

4:11 (and 15 seconds) – I’ve accomplished everything I can with this conversation so I leave without saying a word.

5:01 PM – I run into my cousin Chris. What’s up, Chris?

6:36 PM – A balding middle-aged man stops me and commands me to talk to his female friend. She’s pretty cute and looks younger than him so I oblige.

6:38 PM – I make out with said woman.

6:49 PM – I notice a wedding ring.

6:49 PM – Thoughts of getting beat up and/or murdered by her husband fill my mind. I’m not a fan of either so I leave without saying a word.

7:17-12:42 - ???????????

12:43 AM – Early weekday bar close… I could use the extra hour, since I got a late start at the parade, but the bouncer doesn’t negotiate.

12:51 AM – I am stepping into a cab when the aforementioned middle aged married chick puts her arm around me and exclaims “My Boyfriend!!!” She then ushers me away from the cab and I resist only for show.

12:54 AM – After a short walk, we arrive at a large parking with only two cars in it… a 1996 Trans-Am and a giant van (one of those extended super long vans that churches and group homes use). Neither option is good.

12:55 AM – We get to the van and a man is checking people in on a clip board and it becomes evident to me that this is a swingers party.

12:56 AM – The van speeds off without me. My choice.

12:57 AM – Walk around lot.

12:59 AM – Get genius idea to call a St. Paul cop friend of mine. No answer.

1:07 AM – Sit on curb.

1:08 AM – I see the girl who said, “We’ll make out later!” She’s with her sober-cab, semi-slow cousin. She recognizes me although nobody knows any names. They offer me a ride to an unknown destination and I accept.

1:10 AM – I get in the backseat of the 2-door trans-am and for some reason there is a giant mid-90’s model computer monitor and printer accompanying me back there.

1:14 AM – I realize that we are traveling to a suburb 20 miles out. Information I probably should have collected at 1:08 AM.

1:15 AM – Girl who wants to make-out with me starts smoking weed.

1:37 AM – We arrive at the house of the girl who wants to make out with me and scamper to the basement.

1:42 AM – I discover that this is her parents house.

1:53 AM – I try to make her attractive but cannot.

1:55 AM – I try again.

2:08 AM – I pass out on her couch… er, her parents couch.

8:02 AM – I awake to hear parental activity upstairs.

8:17 AM – It gets quiet and I don’t flinch, so I sprint out the door and continue my workout right on down the street.

8:18 AM – I realize I have no idea where I am.

8:19 AM – I realize I’m really out of shape.

8:20 AM – I call my buddy the St. Paul cop.

8:58 AM – I get a police escort back to my car.

9:06 AM – Turn on the siren.

9:16 AM – Arrive safely at my car and drive home.

Winnie Cooper - Episode 1

A few years back I was a starving actor where I worked overnights at FedEx Kinko’s in beautiful Burbank, California. The job left a lot to be desired but the upside of sniffing toner all night long was the late night appearance of random B celebrities. During my time there, B-sightings included Alan Thicke, Markie Post, Dennis Haskins and many more.

But one glorious overnight at 1 AM, Kinko’s was graced with the presence of my lifelong crush – Winnie Cooper from TV show The Wonder Years. For the first time in my life I was thankful to be wearing an ink-stained apron to cover up my mancitement. As she headed to the self-service area (no innuendo intended) I excused myself from the customers I was assisting by completely ignoring them and headed straight for my computer.

Like a true creeper, I searched “Winnie Cooper” to see if the world wide web had some inside information on her. You have to be smart with B celebrities known for one thing… they often don’t like talking about that one thing. So I didn’t want my angle to be, “You’re Winnie Cooper!” and then go in for the high five. Any jerk can do that. I wanted her to know that I understood her as a person and that my lifelong infatuation for her was the key to unlock her heart.

In my computer research, I discovered that she had a real name – Danica McKellar. Who knew? A few more clicks on my internet machine informed me that she was a famous mathematician. She graduated with honors from UCLA where she co-authored a proof. Seriously, she’s crazy smart.

With my stalker knowledge firmly in place, I now put out a prayer to the Kinko’s gods for her copy machine to break down. Serendipitously, my prayers were answered as she approached the counter and asked for my assistance before I said “Amen”. There is a God!

My metamorphosis into Fred Savage had begun as my voice cracked, “Y-es… um, YES.” But I got it together and like her knight in shining armor, I saved the day by fixing the jam between areas A and B.

Unquestionably this was a great start, but I had to stay sharp. She mentioned that she needed ink for her printer and as we sauntered to the cartridge area she disclosed that she wasn’t sure of her printer model. This was my opportunity!

I said, “Matching cartridge numbers to printer models… you’d have to be a math major!”

She lit up. There are few moments in life when you know you just made a girl wet and this was one of them. Glowing, she said, “Actually, I was a math major.”

I smiled back and nodded with eyebrows raised as if I was learning something I didn’t find out stalking her.

We proceeded to the checkout counter where she collected a few additional items – manila folders, envelopes, a self-help book and some red vines. As I’m ringing her out (again, no innuendo) I ask her, “I don’t mean to be forward, but are you Danica McKellar?”

She was ecstatic. You could see in her face that every male she encounters born between 1977 and 1983 says, “You’re Winnie Cooper!” and goes for the high five. But I didn’t have my hand up in the air AND I knew her real name.

As far as she knew I could fix any machine on the planet, I could follow it up with a witty Pythagoras reference and I am sensitive to the needs of a woman… in this case, knowing her name. I was in the zone.

After a few riveting moments of idle chitchat and me hoping that she would stay forever – or at least ask for an application to work alongside me – she asked me a question that would fulfill a childhood fantasy, “Would you walk me to my car?”

I obliged as calmly as I could to cover up the fact that this was the best moment of my life and we walked to the car in what seemed like slow motion. This is where I discovered the real power of Winnie Cooper. In true Wonder Years fashion, I could hear my adult voice 30 years in the future talking in my head reflecting back on this moment.

Inner voice that sounds like Daniel Stern:

She was an angel but she looked chilly in the cool valley air. I wished I had Kevin’s Jets jacket to drape over her shoulders, but all I had was that damn corporately issued apron. She was charming as she fiddled for her keys in a clumsy fashion. And as I held her copies and her ink cartridges that probably won’t work in her printer, in the still Burbank night I found the perfect words to say…

“I’ll… see you around.”

Inner voice that sounds like Daniel Stern:

I’ll see you around!? Is this what Namath would say? No, he’d say ‘Suzie, I wanna kiss you!’ Oh my god… I have turned into Kevin Arnold! ‘I’ll see you around’ is exactly what Kevin Arnold would have said.

When she finally stumbled upon her keys, she lifted them out of her purse with a business card and extended an invitation for me to contact her. I smiled and said I would. And in Kevin Arnold fashion I said, “Bye.”

She said, “Bye.”

And I again said, “Bye.”

While the Winnie I remembered from my youth would have pedaled off in her banana seat bike, I didn’t mind this new Winnie who sped off with my heart in a BMW.

TO BE CONTINUED…