Citizen of the Month

the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Category: Sex (Page 5 of 9)

I Love John Updike (Not Really About John Updike)

January 10, 2007 / / 41 Comments

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This week was a milestone for me.  I submitted my Fame post as an op-ed at the Los Angeles Times. 

Will they ever actually print it?  Extremely doubtful. 

But it was the first time I ever submitted my writing anywhere (other than scriptwriting).  Deezee pushed me into it.  She literally emailed me three times to make sure I did it.  So, thanks Deezee, for being such a pushy bastard.

I’m sure I looked unprofessional in my query letter.  I wrote “Dear Editor” rather than using a specific editor’s name.  I didn’t know you were supposed to include a page count.  After I submitted the article, I found an informative article in Daily Kos about writing op-ed pieces.  I wish I had seen it before!  It is a must read if you want to write a piece.  Don’t look like an amateur nudnik like me!

I’m always reading blog posts from YOU that would be perfect for a op-ed piece, so I’m going to try to push some of you to submit your work. 

Deezee also advised me to take out certain words from my post, such as “penis” and “balls,” which I did.  Rather than saying “If John Stossel had any balls,” it now reads “If John Stossel had any guts.”  I know that totally destroyed the sentence.  I totally wimped out, but it’s all part of the game.

People who have met me in real life know that I am actually a polite guy who never curses.  I’m always surprised when I learn that a blogger who writes beautiful poetry can “curse like a sailor” in real life.  Maybe it is because I rarely use words like c**k, p***y, f**king, etc. in the real world, that I LOVE to use them on my blog.  But every once in a while now I might clean up a post, especially if I have a job interview that week. 

It would be a shame, though, to refrain myself from using these obscenities on my blog.  I liked to imagine that whenever I say tits or c**k in a post, that thousands of women around the world are getting so turned on that they having orgasms right at their work cubicles.  That is happening, right?

For some of you, this is the only sex you get all week, so I can’t just eliminate this sex talk.  It is a public service!   So, I’ve come up with a way to both talk about sex AND be PG-13 for the Los Angeles Times and prospective employers.  It is called USING CODE.  Talk having your cake and eating it, too!

From now on:

c**k = iPod
p***y = Toyota Prius
tits = John Updike
f**king = “Deal or No Deal”

So, for instance, imagine you’re reading the following post.  Can you decipher it?

A BLOG POST 

Happy New Year, fellow bloggers!  How was your Christmas and Hanukkah?   I had a great vacation.  And guess what — I got a iPod as a Hanukkah gift.   What a great toy.  I don’t think I’ve every had more fun playing with anything in my life.  I’ve been using my iPod constantly, plugging it in, buying all these accessories, and looking for friends to share my playlist with.   I love the way it fits right in your hand.  And I didn’t even get the mini one!  No way! 

Soon, I’m hoping to figure out a way to install my iPod right into the Toyota Prius.  Then I can listen to music as I’m driving to the store.   I love that Toyota Prius.   It’s so comfortable inside, I almost want to sleep in it!  Dude, that would be the ultimate!

Do you make any New Year’s Resolutions?  I promised myself to read more this year.  I’m a big fan of John Updike and I hope to read all of his books this year.    There’s nothing better than curling up in bed with a good book by John Updike, especially one of his 500 page novels. 

I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait for the new season of “24” and “Lost.”  So far, I haven’t been impressed with the new TV season other than “Deal of No Deal.”  Has anyone been watching “Deal or No Deal?”  It seems to be on TV every night lately!  One of my blogger friends recently told me how she Tivo-es it and then watches 4-5 episodes a night with her boyfriend!  That made me feel old.  I haven’t watched that much TV in one night since I was in college!   In fact, sometimes I even zip past the commercials, and fall asleep in the middle of the show. 

I’m glad they renewed “Deal or No Deal.”  Hopefully, I will be watching it a lot more this year.  Usually. I’m watching it in the bedroom before going to sleep, but I think I’m going to change things around in 2007.  I’m going to watch it on the living room TV and even on the little TV in the kitchen!   This is a YEAR of CHANGE!   I’m going to try to watch it every chance I get, with or without Sophia!   Who knows, maybe I’ll even get the chance to watch the show with two friends at the same time!  I could throw a little “Deal of No Deal” party!  I can’t tell you HOW MUCH I love that show!  I wonder if you can download “Deal or No Deal” directly onto you iPod and watch it in your Toytota Prius? 

Anyway, I love you all!  I’m gonna go take a cold shower now.  Or maybe I’ll just relax and read some John Updike.

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  Girls Gone Geeky

Tis the Season for More Male Insecurity

December 13, 2006 / / 48 Comments

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It used to be that women had all the insecurities. They worried that they were too fat, too talkative, too this, too that. Now men are as insecure. We feel bad if we don’t have flat abs, thick wavy hair, or look like the model in some underwear ad. Let’s not even talk about money, or some other personal issues that I would just have to delete from this blog later tonight.

As a connoisseur of “male insecurity” I’ve been fascinated by the amount of spam I get for increasing the size of my penis. Is this really what men are worrying about? Obviously most of these men are NOT married. Believe me, after marriage, that concern falls way down on the list. WAY down. I don’t care if you have the smallest penis in the world, I just can’t imagine a woman telling her husband that she wants a divorce because his “penis is too small.”

Back to the email spam. It’s always been unclear to me how these pills actually work. Do these pills increase your penis by 3″ just once, or can you consistently increase it by 3″, like Pinocchio’s nose, or a tax-free CD at the bank which you can rollover at the end of the year for more interest?  And why is it always 3″?  If I took the pills for say, three months, would the results be an increase of 3″ (cubed), or a 9″ increase.  And at what point are you supposed to STOP taking the pills?  At a 3″ increase?  A 6″ increase? A 9″ increase?  If you take only 1/2 of a pill, which I sometimes did when I was trying Prozac, for instance, will you only get a 1.5″ increase of your penis size?

I think it would actually cool to have a 12″ penis because then you would always have a handy ruler. Forget about looking for a dirty ruler in your “junk” drawer when you want to measure the size of your penis. Your penis IS the ruler! Think how much fun it would be for a young couple building their first IKEA-bought entertainment center:

Girl: “The directions say the shelf needs to be exactly 7″ from the edge of wood piece #D.”

Boy: “No problem. Let me just get my “ruler” out.”

Girl: “I’ll help!”

Part of getting older is learning there are things you should feel insecure about which you didn’t even know you were SUPPOSED to be insecure about. Remember that whole tighty-whitey debacle on my blog a year ago, where you told me that white Fruit of the Loom briefs were for mama boys living in their mother’s apartment in New York?

Obsession with penis size is nothing new. I was not surprised by the selling of miracle pills in my email spam. Penis size has been a male obsession since Cain and Abel had their famous duel. But lately, I have been getting some penis-related email spam that just confuses me, which is unusual for a self-proclaimed “penis” expert like myself.

Look at my junk mail box today.

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What is it with this recent onslaught of spam extolling ways of “increasing the volume” of my ejaculation. And by 500%!? Huh? Is this some new standard that modern women hold us to — volume?

Girl One: “How was your date with Bob?”

Girl Two: “He was amazing in bed!”

Girl One: Oh? How “big” was he?”

Girl Two: “Nine Quarts!”

How much volume of ejaculate is a man supposed to have? Is this supposed to impress a woman, like the more volume, the more a man’s virility, as if “When I impregnate you, you will give birth to quintuplets!”

I already can hear the banter in male locker rooms across America as this type of email spam becomes the norm:

Guy 1: “Oh, man. Did I f**k Angela good last night. The condom became the size of a beach ball with all the volume of my ejaculate!”

Guy2: “Yeah, big deal. I was f**king Susie this morning and when I came, it was like Katrina hit the bedroom. We almost had to row out on the bed.”

Guy 3: “I once ejaculated so much, I create a hole in my girlfriend’s ceiling and killed a bird flying over head.”

Guy 4: “Big shit. By federal regulations, I’m not even allowed to have sex anywhere near a major airport in case the volume and velocity of my ejaculate shoots up and knocks down a 747.”

As for me, I’m waiting for the pill that causes my penis to play Mozart during orgasm. That would be impressive.

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: The Truth About Olive Garden

A Story for My Younger Readers

September 28, 2006 / / 63 Comments

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Once upon a time, there was a boy named Max.  One sunny day, while Max was walking through the park, he met a female Genie who lived in a bottle.  Max and the Genie became friends. 

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This female Genie had these two Magic Orbs.  Max learned to love these Magic Orbs more than anything.  He loved to hold them, play with them, and squeeze them for good luck. These Magic Orbs made Max the happiest boy in his little town. 

One night, there was a violent storm and the Genie was blown out of town. 

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Max had no Magic Orbs to play with anymore.  Max was very sad.  Max’s father saw that Max was sad.  He told Max about this other toy that he could play with instead. 

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For several weeks, Max played with this other toy, sometimes two or three times a day.  Still, Max missed the Genie’s Magic Orbs.  

Max went to the park to find another Genie with Magic Orbs.  

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While in the park, he saw many other Genies.  Some had big Magic Orbs.  Some had little Magic Orbs.  Max liked these Magic Orbs, but they were not his to play with and hold. 

Max became sad again.  Suddenly, Max heard a friendly voice.  It was the Good Spirit of the North, who came to help Max. 

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“Here is what you must do,” said the Good Spirit, and whispered the secret into Max’s ear.

Max ran home as fast as lightning.  Now he knew what to do.  He would not be sad anymore. 

Max ran upstairs to his computer and wrote a blog post about Magic Orbs, letting the sadness disappear, and then Max played with his other toy until he fell asleep. 

Sharing Your Bed #2

September 18, 2006 / / 22 Comments

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Royal Bed, Versailles

Wow, I learned so much about beds in such a short time. 

A few people sent me emails that they would love to send me a photo, but unfortunately, it is too personal to share a photo of their bed with the world.   After all, your bed is the place where you sleep, make love, and are vulnerable…

Man, I would love to see what is on their webcam!

Here’s another tidbit I learned: 

Did you know that the bed is so powerful a symbol that some women actually throw out their mattress every time they break up with a man?!  Talk about living expenses!

I perfectly understand this infusing of meaning into an inanimate object.  I spent the weekend cleaning up the house, trying to make more room for the stuff I brought from my apartment.   It is so hard to throw out some things.  I know they are inanimate objects, but they have so much “meaning,” especially when there is a story associated with it. 

Since my father used to visit LA a lot, he kept two suitcases here with his clothes.  It was hard giving some of it to Goodwill yesterday, but what am I going to do with it all?  He had lousy taste in clothes anyway!  (sorry, Dad — I hope you are NOT wearing Haggar polyester slacks in heaven)

And Sophia, don’t get mad, but I finally tossed those three old office chairs.  We can talk about that later.

So, thank you those who DID send a photo of your bed.  Realizing how intimate the bedroom is — it makes your gesture even more special. 

Or should I just assume that those who sent it to me do ALL their lovemaking on the living room carpet and in the shower — so they don’t romanticize their bedroom?

(on request — my infamous bed before I moved to Sophia’s (NSFW))

Friday

September 15, 2006 / / 23 Comments

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What a coincidence!  I live in Redondo Beach, too!

Other more important things:

Danny Miller of Jew Eat Yet has a terrific piece in the Huffington Post (or as Sophia calls it, “that vile Hollywood liberal rag”)

Jay Allen of the ultra-popular Zero Boss has a funny video complaining about his hosting company, Dreamhost, and mentions me.  (I’m with Dreamhost, too, and it is the reason this site has been down half the week) 

Ms. Sophia Lansky sends regards.  She is working very hard on the movie in New York — 16 hour days — but she is now getting paid more.  Sophia is a Russian dialect coach to an American actress (Natasha Gregson Wagner) and an American English dialect coach to a Russian actor (Semyon Strugachev).   But she still gets to see “The Producers” on Sunday.

I am getting the bulk of my traffic today from Pantiesetc.com, the Men in Panties Community (I am not joking!).  I’m not sure whether I should be happy or concerned about this interesting development with my blog.

And hear this, former “Bloggers With Biceps” members  — we have a success story way better than any other phony one from Jenny Craig — Alison joined a gym back then.  Not only is she now a sexy hardbody, but she’s going to WORK at her gym and inspire others!

And finally, since this post is really about nothing, I have a couple of real-life questions that might give you a hint of the excitement of my day tomorrow.   What do people use that is most effective in cleaning a kitchen floor and shower/bathtub?   And do men still iron their dress shirts or do they usually give them out to the cleaners?

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  My First Attempt at Looting

I’ve Never Seen Him Act So Cocky

September 9, 2006 / / 14 Comments

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From Neil:

He’s getting impossible to live with. Like a roommate who won’t shut up about the big touchdown he once made in high school.

To make it worse, my Penis totally messed up my Saturday Night fun, by opening his stupid mouth and dissing me in front of these two nice knitting bloggers I met for coffee yesterday at Starbucks and then brought back to my place to show them this sweater that my grandmother knitted for me several years ago —

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Cindi: “Holy Crochet Needles! His Penis is telling us something, Heather!”

Neil’s Penis: “Forget Neilochka! I’m the one on Technorati, not him! He’s more like your gay friend! C’mon, ladies — let’s leave Neil and go clubbing on Sunset.”

Heather: “I had a feeling that Neil wasn’t the cool one. He was so dull at the coffee shop. How much can he talk about that Sophia?  Let’s grab our knitting patterns and blow this pop stand with the super-talented Penis!”

Neil’s Penis: “Don’t wait up, Neilochka!”

Neil’s Penis’s Dating Rules for Men

September 8, 2006 / / 76 Comments

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Hello, I’m Neil’s Penis. Today I’ll be guest-blogging on “Citizen of the Month” because Neil is in the corner crying like a little wimp over Sophia. I have no idea why God punished me by attaching me to such a girly-man.

Now I know that Neil likes to be all cutesy on his blog, but I’m NOT Neil. I’m here to rant. And if there is one thing that gets my goat it’s all these so-called “experts” online giving dating advice. I especially hate it when they give advice to men because it is always bull***t written either by a gay dude, a clueless single guy who wouldn’t know what to do with his c**k if he had a chance, or some bitter broad who can’t find a man as good as her daddy. If anyone should give dating advice to men, you know who it should be? — ME! Is there anyone out there who knows as much about women as me? Neil might be a hopeless dummy, but I realize that with one snap of my finger, I can have half of Neilochka’s blogroll in bed catering to me. Because I know what makes a woman tick.

Now, I’ve seen some dumb sites in my time, but nothing is as idiotic as AskMen.com. Who the f**k are these “men” that are writing this crap — some New York pussywhipped eunuchs who rush down to Zabar’s every time their girlfriend wants some organic goat cheese?

In this lame article, AskMen’s “relationship correspondent” decides to help single men with the Top 10 “Secret Dating Rules.”

So, men, grab a manly leather chair. Listen to the s**t this moron says, and then hear what a real expert — ME! — has to say. Take my advice and I guarantee that you will be f***ing like a pro in no time!

Here is the introduction to this AskMen idiocy:

AskMen: “For as long as there have been men and women, there have been dating and dating rituals. Being the sly hunters we are, men have built up a reservoir of knowledge and cunning over the millennia on how to successfully woo the ladies over the first few weeks of a courtship.

There are many fish in the sea, and there are many baiting procedures you can use to reel them in. And though many women may be aware of some of our strategies, they surely don’t know of all of them. Let’s keep it that way, gentlemen. Keep these timeless secret dating tips under your hat and enjoy the learning process.”

Neil’s Penis: “Am I right about this writer being an asshole? I mean — do we even have to go any further?”

Dating “Rule” #10 — Wait three days before calling back

AskMen: “The idea behind this dating rule of thumb is to make sure that your new squeeze doesn’t think you’re desperate to see her. And it’s become a golden rule because it often works. Many women know the dating game, and want to see if their new man can play it…”

Neil’s Penis: “Utter nonsense. Of course this is the “Golden Rule.” She knows it is the stupid rule. Everyone who has ever seen a movie knows it is THE rule. So, are you gonna follow the rule? Of course not! Not if you want to get the pick of the litter babes. If you wait three days, you are telling the woman that you are nothing more than middle manager material who follows the rules and that the best you can do in the bedroom is the missionary position for four minutes flat. Did Alexander the Great follow the rules? Did Napoleon? Napoleon was a short little nudnik, but he got to f**k the hot Josephine every night — because he didn’t follow the rules. I say — call her up ten minutes after you get home. Then call her again an hour later. Show her that YOU follow your OWN rules, and she’ll be doing the Kama Sutra with you in no time.”

Dating “Rule” #9 — Take her where everyone knows your name

AskMen: “Another way to impress your new woman early in the game is to go somewhere where you already have a great reputation. By taking her to one of your usual haunts, you’ll get to showcase your smooth self in action among your vast circle of acquaintances…”

Neil’s Penis: WTF?! Is this guy kidding? You’re a single guy. What establishment knows your damn name? It certainly ain’t Cheers. It IS the strip joint. The Thai massage parlor. The sleazy dive where you once felt up that bartender’s mother in the men’s room. Is this where you WANT to bring your date? I say go to a place where no one has ever seen your face and — if the date doesn’t work out — will never see you again.

Dating “Rule” #8 — Resist sleeping with her early on

AskMen: “Aside from the fact that withholding yourself will keep her wanting you more, adhering to this rule also shows her that you’re a man who isn’t ruled by his loins…”

Neil’s Penis: “Now I’m sure this was written by some guy who has never been laid. This “expert” doesn’t know s**t about women. No woman spends two hours getting all dolled up and wearing the most uncomfortable goddamn high heels in the world, just for some mediocre dinner at the Outback Steakhouse. She wants to get laid as bad as you do! Why do you think she is wearing that new sexy underwear? She’s hoping you will actually see it while taking it off her! This dating “rule” is so stupid — and so insulting to women, that I’d like to shove a RULER up this writer’s loins.”

Dating “Rule” #7 — Limit your spending

AskMen: “One of the best ways to know if she’s a keeper is to find out how much money she expects you to spend on her. On early dates, take her to places where you don’t have to spend much, such as a coffee shop, lounge or boardwalk…”

Neil’s Penis: “Ha Ha Ha, now I’m wondering if Neilochka is writing this crap himself. Yeah, women just LOVE going on a date with Neil at Chicago for Ribs using a 2-1 coupon. What a cheapskate he is! But oh my, what if a guy actually spends money! I can see the scenario now as some girl comes back from her date and tells her roommates how it went: “Well, he’s nice enough, but he’s such a big spender! We took a private jet to Paris and we danced all night at this exclusive nightclub. I just don’t know if I want to go on a second date with a man who doesn’t “limit his spending.” This rule makes me want to puke.”

Dating “Rule” #6 — Screen her first few calls

AskMen: “While the 10th rule prevents you from appearing too needy, this one allows you to gauge whether she’s desperate…”

Neil’s Penis: “Huh? Am I reading this “rule” wrong? Desperate? Desperate is GOOD! This is the type of woman who is insatiable in bed — and then makes you French toast in the morning. I don’t see the problem, do you?”

Dating “Rule” #5 — Don’t offer her gifts early on

AskMen: “Very rarely are you going to recognize a woman as the love of your life within the first few months of dating her… So don’t get all goofy and start showering her with expensive gifts…”

Neil’s Penis: “More bulls**t! Let’s go back to the woman from our example. Now she’s come back from a date with a new guy, after dumping the big spender. She’s sullen. She wants to give up on dating completely. She drowns herself in chocolate ice cream as she tells a roommate about her miserable date, “Look, he bought me a diamond necklace! When am I ever going to meet a man who’s Mr. Right?” This writer should be banned from every writing another word.”

Dating “Rule” #4 — Be mysterious… but not weird

AskMen: “Remember not to volunteer any information about past relationships, your family or your job right away. Your woman will keep you guessing about her, so you need to do the same in return. Maintaining some intrigue keeps the spice in dating.”

Neil’s Penis: “This might have been true — in 1890! Today, anyone can find out the size of your c**k by searching for it on Google! There’s no more secrets. If anything, today is the day of promotion, marketing, advertising. You WANT to have a video on YouTube of you screwing the entire women’s volleyball team. In fact, rather than keeping secrets on the first date, I suggest you hand over a document listing every woman you ever shagged. Even better, try to get testimonials of how good you were in bed. It is asinine to keep a woman guessing. It’s like a job interview. She’ll just move on to the next candidate. Get in there, tell her what you can do for her, and start f***ing her already before she gives the job to someone else!”

Dating “Rule” #3 — Don’t flatter her too much

AskMen: “While it’s true that you will have to do some flattering in your initial flirtations, keep it toned down. The worst thing you can do is lay on the compliments too thick at the beginning.”

Neil’s Penis: “I hate emoticons, but you know the one where he’s rolling his eyes. Because that’s what I’m doing. Rolling my F***ING EYES! I’m not even going to spend time rebutting this one. Just take it from me, the FASTEST WAY, and I mean Freeway-fast-with-no-traffic fast, to get into a woman’s pants is to tell her how beautiful her eyes are. Case f***ing closed!”

Dating “Rule” #2 — Don’t meet her friends ‑- yet

AskMen: “Finding the time to date a new girl is always a challenge, so don’t make things more difficult for yourself by agreeing to meet her friends, as well… So keep her friends out of the picture until you feel confident that the relationship is actually heading somewhere…”

Neil’s Penis: “Don’t meet her friends yet? Why not? This is a pussy-boy’s approach. It is to your ADVANTAGE to check out her friends. Maybe there’s someone even hotter than she is? And think of the future. Chances are it’s not going to work out with this woman. It’s reality, dude. And the minute you go bust, so does the mind-blowing sex every Saturday night. But remember the Boy Scouts motto? Be prepared. Be prepared by planting the seeds with one of her friends beforehand, so if things go bad, you don’t even have to miss one weekend of f***ing. You can just slide another woman right into the slot. You see — the Boy Scouts weren’t so gay after all. There was wisdom there!”

Dating “Rule” #1 — Don’t let her meet your friends ‑- yet

AskMen: “It’s a two-way street, and it’s always best to keep your new woman away from your good buddies at the start, too. She may not be prepared for their sense of humor, or they may reveal things about you that you’d rather keep her in the dark about…”

Neil’s Penis: “Yawn. Amateur Hour. Women are women for a reason. They actually like when you SHOW THEM OFF to your friends. They light up like a the Las Vegas Strip when you ask your friends, “Isn’t my new girlfriend hot?! What do you think of her tits, man?!” And showing off your women does wonders for your career. In fact, many companies ONLY promote men with hot girlfriends or wives. That’s why it is important for you to take her out meeting people as soon as possible. Sure, it’s nice having her home in the bedroom. But every once in a while, you need to lift your nose up from between her thighs, look into her eyes, and say, “Hey, baby, let’s go take a drive so I can show you off to my friends and business associates.” She’ll melt in your arms.”

It’s the weekend, men. So, you know what that means. Get out there and start doing what comes naturally! We’ll compare notes on Monday in the locker room. And I suppose Neilochka will be back next time with his weepy Sophia s**t.

Neil’s Penis — Out!

While Sophia Was Away

September 1, 2006 / / 48 Comments

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from Lane Bryant online site

If there’s one question everyone seems to ask me via email lately it’s, “Neilochka, you’re known throughout the blogosphere as a man of strong desires. How in the world are you managing without a woman around?”

The truth is, it’s been extremely difficult. Sure, I’ve flirted with one or two female bloggers in their blog comments, but its all been high school stuff. You know — “Oh, you look so hot in that photo with your kids and your pet hamster!”

Last night, I decided it was time to take things up a notch. I decided to IM with the unattached “BlogGirl X,” hoping for some online action. I wasn’t entirely sure how to initiation the “good times,” but I figured I’d play it by ear.

“Hi there!” I IMed her on Yahoo! Messenger, adding an emoticon that winked. I figured I’d let the emoticons be my “wing-men” in helping me achieve my goal.

“Hey, Neilochka” she replied, “What’s up?!”

“Hee hee,” I thought.

I started my dance of seduction. We spoke about blogging. About her job. About her recent fight with her mother over some sort of vacation plans to Florida. About her recent eye infection from swimming in a neighbor’s pool.

I began scratching my head, wondering if I was approaching this incorrectly. If I wanted to talk about this boring crap, I could have just called up Sophia. Where was the hot action?”

Now I know what you are thinking. What ABOUT Sophia? Isn’t Neil still “married?” Isn’t it a little sleazy of him to be hitting on women online while still being a married man?

I understand where you are coming from. I’ve seen these type of assholes on TV shows like “Grey’s Anatomy.” They may be sexy as hell, but they are basically love-em-and-leave-em jerks, jumping from one extra-marital conquest to the next.

But that is not me. I have two excellent excuses for flirting with “BlogGirl X” last night.

Excuse #1 —

I tried to flirt with Sophia FIRST. Granted there is a three hour time difference between LA and NY — and it was 2AM in New York. But if someone woke me up in the middle of the night wanting some sex talk, I would be overjoyed! And also – once we started talking, the conversation quickly went off-course, Sophia seemed more interested in discussing “what checks came in the mail” than watching me on my new “webcam.”

Excuse # 2 —

Before Sophia left for New York, I explicitly asked her if it was OK for me to “fool around” with other women while she was gone. She answered, “Only if you actually learn something.”

So, I take that as a “yes.”

So, back to BlogGirl X. We are online for fifteen minutes and it is time to get explicit.

Neil:  “So, where are you now?”

BlogGirl X:  “In bed.”

Good. Good.

Neil:  “So, what are you wearing?”

BlogGirl X:  “A bra and matching panties.”

Bing!

Neil:  “Oh, really? What color?”

BlogGirl X:  “Burgundy”

Neil:  “Huh. It’s hard to visualize. Do you have any photos?”

BlogGirl X:  “Hold on…”

Holy shit! It’s actually working! She’s playing along!

BlogGirl X:  “… I bought the bra and panties online. Let me show you the URL…”

She sends me to LaneBryant.com.

This is not exactly what I hoped for.

But still, it is a photo of a curvy woman in a bra and panties. Good enough for me right now.

Neil:  “Nice. That wouldn’t be YOU in the photo, would it?”

BlogGirl X:  “No, silly. I’m not a model. I’m an advertising account executive.”

Sigh.

Neil:  “But you do look something like her, right?… I’m assuming…”

BlogGirl X:  “Sort of. Except I’m a 38D.”

Neil:  “Yes. Hey, that’s what Sophia is, too!”

BlogGirl X:  “Oh, really?

Neil:  “Yes!”

BlogGirl X:  “Cool.  She should buy this bra. It’s the most comfortable one I’ve ever worn. At Lane Bryant.”

Neil:  “I’ve been to Lane Bryant with Sophia. She doesn’t like their clothes.”

BlogGirl X:  “Neither do I. But they have the best bras for buxom women. Just tell her to take the padding out. We certainly don’t need it.”

Neil:  “Right…right…”

I bit my tongue. Something is going wrong here. Too much talk about Sophia. Stay focused, the eye on the prize…

Neil:  “Oh yeah, so, I guess you wouldn’t need the padding… since you are a 38D…”

BlogGirl X:  “Yeah. I also find the padding irritates my nipples. I have very sensitive nipples.”

Neil:  “You do…?”

BlogGirl X:  “Oh, my nipples always give me a problem. Even during sex. It’s like — don’t touch me there right now!”

Neil:  “Huh. So, like, uh, when you’re having sex, I would think most women like, uh…

BlogGirl X:  “Oh, they’re just very sensitive when I’m very sexually aroused. Otherwise, I love when a man plays with my nipples… Oh, check out this bra on the site! I love this one, too. I just bought it and it looks so good with my new black dress.”

She sends me another URL from Lane Bryant, showing another woman in a bra, but I’m feeling a little too dizzy to look at it.

BlogGirl X:  “I could be like a saleswoman for these bras I love them so much. You have to tell Sophia about them.”

Neil:  “Uh…I will.”

BlogGirl X:  “You promise? Because men always forget these things.”

Neil:  “No, I will…so, let’s get back… you were saying, when you get very aroused, your…”

BlogGirl X:  “You want me to send her off an email with the link to Lane Bryant…”

Neil:  “No…no… I’ll do it…”

BlogGirl X:  “Great. Let me go now. I think I’ll undress, take a shower, then relax with my vibrator. I need an orgasm! I had such a long day at work today!”

Neil:  “Uh…OK…”

BlogGirl X:  “Bye, Neilochka. Can’t wait to read your next post! You’re always so funny!”

Neil:  “Bye.”

She ended the conversation with an emoticon that winked.

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  Questions on my Mind

Mommy Bloggest

August 30, 2006 / / 91 Comments

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Sophia is always bugging me about putting advertising on my blog.  She is under the impression that because “Citizen of the Month” is the third most read blog in Redondo Beach we could make a living off of you suckers, or “monetize” the blog, as they say at conferences like BlogHer.

“Look at this blog,” Sophia says, pointing at some popular blog on my blogroll.  “She puts a cute little button on the side that says, “Click here!  I need to eat!.”  And guess what – she’s really using the blog to pay for her husband’s new BMW.”

I have no problem with people making money off of their blogs.   But I ain’t stupid.  I know my place in the blogosphere.   I don’t have the right demographic to get myself that BMW.  In fact, this is a typical offer — something I got in my email today:

Hi,

Our impressions of citizenofthemonth.com are very good, that’s why we would like to offer you the opportunity of becoming a link partner with us. The process is extremely simple and incredibly beneficial to the both of us. What we would be interested in doing is in offering you a link to Horny Matches dot com….

Horny Matches dot com!  That’s my demographic.

Jeez, how horny do you have to be to use Horny Matches dot com?  Aren’t the people on Match.com horny enough for you? 

What’s the next step  — IfIdon’tgetlaidIwillcommitsuicide.com?

These are the type of advertisers interested in Citizen of the Month.  The sad part is that their research is correct.  After meeting a few of you in person, you ARE the types who would click through the ads to Horny Matches dot com.

But that’s not enough advertising dollars for me and my high-living lifestyle.  If I’m going for the money, I want to be a big gun, a big macher — a blogger who gets all the attention.  Which means one thing.   From this day forward, I am a Mommyblogger.   “Citizen of the Month” will now be called “Mommy of the Month.”

Let me introduce you to the “cast of characters.” 

That photo on top is my son, Justin, when he was younger.  He’s now eleven years old.  

My husband is Josh.   He’s a stockbroker with a medium-sized firm in Redondo Beach. 

And my name is… Trish.  

I love blogging, Jane Austen, “The Office,” and scrapbooking.  I’m pretty, but not that much of a beauty to make other female bloggers jealous of me.  The biggest inspiration in my life, besides my great aunt Tilly, who was born without ears but still managed to become the conductor of the Tulsa Symphony Orchestra, is Dooce.

Some criticize us Mommybloggers.  

“How much can be said about being a mother?  It’s not like it’s a new experience.  My mother raised me OK — and she didn’t even have a blog.”

I disagree.  Every mother is different.  I can honestly say I would not be here today if it weren’t for my mother. 

Welcome to my first Mommyblogger post:

Mommy of the Month

by Trish Lansky-Kramer

“Welcome World!”

Today I went to Kohl’s to buy school clothes for Justin. I can’t believe how many fashion choices children have today!  Were there so many choices when we were kids?  I don’t think so! 

(And thank you Alice for car-pooling!  You all should read Alice’s blog, Mommy Unleashed.  She is so funny when she talks about her “little rugrats!”)

While at Kohl’s all Justin could talk about was buying these “must have” Nikes.  I told him they were too expensive.   He started throwing a tantrum.   All I think was, “When is school going to start already??!!!”  Am I a bad mother to think that way?  Send me a private email and tell me the truth!

Later that evening, Josh had a little “man to man” talk with Justin about the Nikes.  Josh  explained that  we needed to save money for our trip to see Nana and to go to Disneyworld.  I’m so glad I married Josh.  He is such a good father.  Thank you all for saying such nice things about him in the comments of the last post.  We finally resolved the “toilet seat” issue.

Yesterday was Tuesday night — and you know what that means –GIRLS NIGHT OUT. 

I just love Melissa’s new book club!   There’s no better combination than good friends, good books, and Ellie’s munchlicious raisin cookies!   For our next book, Alicia recommended Jennifer Weiner (again!), but Margaret suggested we try reading something more ethnic for a change, like a writer who is African-American or Asian.   I think it might be fun!  I know I love Asian babies.  They really are the cutest.

It’s been really hot in Redondo Beach the last few days, so I wasn’t surprised when Daphne decided to take off her blouse.  I hadn’t taken another bite of my raisin cookie when I noticed that Daphne also took off her bra.  She has such a wonder body.  I’m so jealous.  I really need to go back to Curves (yeah, like I have the time!) 

With Daphne looking so comfortable going topless, we all followed her lead.    Patty and Beth rolled onto the carpet and started making out.  Soon, we were all naked, having a lesbian orgy —

Neil:  “Hold on, hold on, what’s going on here!  Who’s sabotaging this story?”

Neil’s Penis:  “Who do you think, asshole?  You think I’m going to let you be a Mommyblogger and cut me out of the blog completely?” 

Neil:  “Hey, I was still going to share the advertising revenue with you.”

Neil’s Penis:  “And what about residuals?”

Neil:  “Well…”

Neil’s Penis:    “Do you really think I participate in this blog JUST for the money?  I like being in the posts.”

Neil:  “You do?”

Neil’s Penis:  “Sure.  I have a bit of the actor’s bug in me.  The rise and fall of dramantic action.  And there’s certainly no role for me anymore if  you’re Trish, the Mommyblogger.”

Neil:  “We could always make you Josh’s Penis.”

Neil’s Penis:  “I don’t take any f***ing secondary roles!”

Neil:  “Well, I’m sorry, but Sophia thinks advertising…”

Neil’s Penis:  “Sophia… Sophia…  I’ve never seen a man so p***y-whipped!.  If she thinks this blog is about making money, she doesn’t know crap.  Am I the only one with integrity around here?”

Neil:  “So why are we doing this blog?”

Neil’s Penis:  “Neilochka, open your eyes, you four-eyed nincompoop.  If I were running this show, I would have shtupped half of your blogroll already, including those Mommybloggers!”

Neil:  “Even Dooce?”

Neil’s Penis:  “No.  Be serious, pal.  She’s out of your league.”

Neil rushes to the window and screams out towards the East Coast.

Neil:  “Sophia, please!  Come back!   This blog is disintegrating into total nonsense without you here!”

Sophia Countdown:  Five More Weeks

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(artwork from Almost Naked Animals)

(While I wrote this blog tonight, Sophia went to some fancy “wine and cheese” class at the Culinary Institute in NYC and sat next to the “food guy” from “Queer Eye.”)  

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  I Wanna Be Taken Seriously

The Negative Effect of my Vons Club Card on my Sex Life

August 28, 2006 / / 71 Comments

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I lied to you on my last blog post — the one about that Forbes article, “Don’t Marry Career Women.”  I made it sound as if I’m a super-cool feminist guy, the type of evolved man who doesn’t mind one bit that Sophia “wears the pants in the family.” 

I lied.  I wanted you to like me.  I wanted you to respect me.  I wanted you to say, “Neilochka is so much more of a feminist than macho bloggers like PaulyD and Kapgar.  I’m only going to read his blog from now on.”

The truth is, yes — I do get insecure.  There is a lot to be insecure about with Sophia.  She makes more money than I do.  She is smarter than I am.  She has a better sense of humor than me.  She can easily beat me in Ms. Pac-Man.  And she looks better in her underwear than I do.

But these items are not what really bother me.  I’m cool with her inherent superiority.   They don’t make me feel any “less” of a man.  My Achilles heel, if we can call it that, revolves around something else entirely — the use of my Vons Club Card in the supermarket.

Let me give you some history:

As an innocent young boy in Queens, New York, I remember the supermarket as an unpleasant place, a world of chaos and anger.  The aisles were too small and customers were always smacking their shopping carts into each other — sometimes on purpose, as if we were in the middle of some sadistic urban demolition derby where people actually enjoyed seeing boxes of Cheerios flying onto the filthy supermarket floor.  Many New Yorkers did not have cars, so this is where all aggression was released.  They had “shopping cart rage.”  Back in the old days, no one ever said, “excuse me.”  If your cart was in the way, someone would rudely push it aside.  It was a Hobbesian world of shopper eat shopper.  No employee would ever help you.  Once, an old woman died on Aisle Seven of my local Waldbaum’s and the employees closed the store later, just leaving her there.  The underpaid checkout girls hated their jobs and never let you forget it.

When I moved to California, I was not impressed with the weather or the girls in bikinis.  I had already seen that in the movies.  What shocked me were the supermarkets. 

They were enormous.  They were clean.  Three shopping carts could fit side by side in each aisle.  Kids happily sat and played in their shopping carts while their mommies bought dinner.  Some of these carts were bigger than the playpen I used to have as a child. 

Customers were kind to each other.  They actually went to the “Ten and Under Checkout line” with the ACTUAL correct number of items!  They didn’t argue, like Mary Riccio’s mother used to do – that milk, eggs, yogurt, and ice cream was just one item — “dairy product.” 

Life was like a dream in a California supermarket.  Music by “Air Supply” was piped in on the loudspeakers.  Some supermarkets were so large, you could also buy pots, pans, concert tickets, and even Samsonite luggage right there!

And the employees were always so polite.  Where did they find these people?  They acted less as if they had a low-paying job and more like they just won the lottery.

“Hi there, sir, can help you find the best fresh vegetables?”

“Are you looking for something that I could help you with?”

“Have you see our sale on Bounty paper towels?”

“Do you need any help carrying out that 1/2 pound bag of raisins?”

Now I knew why all these illegal immigrants were moving to California.  For the supermarkets!  

California supermarkets were like heaven to me — until Sophia signed up for a Vons Club Card.

Even though Sophia and I are legally married, Sophia decided to keep her last name –Lansky (what a typical career women!).    She wanted to remain Sophia Lansky, not become Sophia Kramer.  At first, it didn’t bother me a whole lot. 

But then was the turning point.  

One day, as I left my local Vons Supermarket, having just used our “joint” Vons Club Card, the overbearingly-friendly salesgirl shouted out joyfully, “You saved $10.55 today… MR. LANSKY!”

Ugh.  What a strike to the male ego!  And it didn’t happen just once.  Every time I left the store, having used my Vons Club Card, it was the same —

…Mr. Lansky…  Mr. Lansky… Mr. Lansky…! 

But did I ever scream?  Did I ever say, “I’m goddamn Mr. Kramer, not goddamn Mr. Lansky — you stupid Stepford checkout girl!?”   No.  I kept it bottled up inside. 

I thought of not using the Vons Club Card at all  — but I would feel like an asshole for paying an extra $10.55.  It was a lose-lose situation.

The stress affected me physically.  The symptoms started small.  I began losing interest in sex after shopping at the supermarket.  It didn’t matter if it was for bananas or milk.  Just walking into Vons was a blow to my male ego.   The “Mr. Lansky” line would be pounding in my brain over and over.  What type of wimpy man is known by his wife’s name?

Mr. Lansky… Mr. Lansky… Mr. Lansky… 

I started shopping at the over-priced Whole Foods for one good reason:  they didn’t have a “club card.”  Unfortunately, the mere passing of the Vons Supermarket across the street would give me the inability to have an erection for 24 hours. 

I became desperate.  I drove to Santa Anita racetrack and bought myself a pair of horse-blinders, to prevent me from seeing any Vons Supermarkets as I drove down the street.  But I always knew the supermarkets were there, close by, mocking me — especially since Sophia’s new GPS system was constantly telling me so.

However, with Sophia away, I was desperate for some love and affection.  I decided to fight my fear.  On Friday night, I went out with my mother-in-law’s chiropractor’s unemployed sister, Andrea.   After a nice dinner at Chicago for Ribs,  we ended back at her place.  We drank some wine and watched some TV.  Soon, we were in her bed.  It felt good to be with a woman again.  I was proud of myself for moving beyond my problem.  We made love for an hour.  Andrea was passionate, screaming things like, “Neilochka, you are amazing!” and “I’ve never been f***ed so good!” 

(note:  This unemployed woman should have said, “I’ve never been f***ed so well!” — another reason to always marry a “career woman,” who usually have a better command of the English language).

The lovemaking grew even more intense.  It felt as if the bed was levitating off the carpet.  Her face grew red, her breathing irregular.  Andrea was nearing the orgasm of her life, when I noticed that the TV in the living room was still on.  It was the end of Conan O’Brien.   There was a cut to a commercial — an advertisement for a certain local supermarket chain:

“This week at Vons:  use your Vons Club Card and get two packages of fresh strawberries for only four dollars!”

“Don’t stop!” yelled the hyperventilating Andrea.  But it was too late.   The Vons Club Card took its toll, and the toll was on me.

I have not heard back from Andrea since then.   And I don’t expect to.

But this tale does not end sadly.   Every psychological problem has a solution, if you are willing to work on yourself. 

Today, I walked into Vons like a REAL MAN and signed up for my very own Vons Club Card. 

Problem solved.

 

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  138th Post About Sophia
 

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