Why can't they tear down Ann Coulter instead?

While I was working at my previous job, there was a man who would drop things off in my office. He was very quiet, a little skittish, relatively slight in stature, glasses, tight curly hair. He was very nice but incredibly shy.

I think I just saw him in the lobby of my current office, resplendent in a bright-red mohawk.

What was even more bizarre was that he was still wearing his glasses and sensible blue oxford/navy chino combination. I either saw this, or I am insane.

In other news, I read today that an announcement regarding the possible demolition of Tiger Stadium could come by next week. Oy, this made me sad. I understand that Tiger Stadium has been used for virtually nothing since Comerica Park was built (didn't Snoop have a party there during the Super Bowl?), and I understand that it's just the most recent in a long line of historic ballparks going the way of the dodo. But I can't get my head around the concept of the disposable landmark. Yes, I did throw up on my father at my first Tigers game (ew, hot dogs), but man, that meant something!

I felt the same way when they demolished the old Hudson's building in downtown Detroit in 1998. Nearly every Christmas of my youth went down thusly: Go to Hudson's, sit on Santa's lap and tell him what you want, listen to my sister Stephanie say that she didn't want anything because she's Jewish, go out for Chinese food, drive around predominately Jewless neighborhoods like Rochester and Livonia to look at lights, go to bed. I thought I managed to avoid the constant media replays of the demolition, seeing that I had moved to New York just before it happened, but lo and behold, I came home from work one day, turned on my TV, and there it was: "The historic Hudson's building in Detroit came down today ..." And they aired no less than two showings of the beautiful structure crumbling to dust. My heart sank.

I think, ultimately, it's about change and a deep, ingrained need to avoid it. One more image of your childhood is erased, to be filled in by a condo complex or a parking lot or an Ikea. Is memory stronger than physical structure? I don't know, but it's what you have left whenever you move to a new house or graduate from college or watch one of your favorite sporting venues get leveled. Being married to a baseball purist has absolutely rubbed off on me. Tiger Stadium coming down means that I can never take Josh there.

Last night, for the first time in maybe ever, Josh and I watched Jay Leno, but only because George Carlin and Ann Coulter were the scheduled guests. (We're Letterman people. Jay Leno gives me hives.) What we really wanted was for George Carlin to beat the crap out of Ann Coulter. We would have taken the smackdown any way we could get it — physically, verbally, he could pelt Skeletor figurines at her head. But he sat quietly while the she-devil hellbeast spouted off on whatever-the-hell-she-says. He listened to her, his brilliant mind likely reeling with the most acute, on-point responses. He was far more mature about sitting next to her than I would have been. (When I accidentally met Ann Coulter at my office holiday party two years ago, I just ignored her each time she tried to say something to me. I firmly believe that the worst thing you can do to Ann Coulter is to pay any attention to her. Also, looking her in the eye caused my skin to melt from my body.) Anyway, I would have given anything to have been a fly on the wall during the commerical breaks.

My sister Jennifer just called to tell me she drove past a place called Chubby Weiners. This is in Chicago, which is also home to Mr. Beefy. Chicago is dirty!

Quote of the day:

JOSH: (holding up his can of Arizona Iced Tea after having a "D'oh!" moment) It's too bad this is a 23-ounce can, because I can only smash a 12-ounce can against my forehead.