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


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 Month138th Post About Sophia

This entry was posted in Life with Sophia, Los Angeles, Misc. Humor, Sex and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

71 Responses to The Negative Effect of my Vons Club Card on my Sex Life

  1. Lord Chimmy says:

    Too bad you weren’t a writer for Seinfeld. They could’ve kept that show running for 10 more years.

  2. wordgirl says:

    What kind of ball-less woman is known by her husband’s name?

  3. Jules says:

    She wears the pants and looks better in her panties – she’s the perfect woman Neil.

  4. Sarah Lynn says:

    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.

    Ok – you are not the type to kiss and tell? Y ou are the type to F*!? and tell!

  5. Hahahahaha!!!

    That’s funny!

    Well, isn’t it a trend now for women not to change her last name after marriage?

  6. rach says:

    Emasculation of the Kramer is now over, a return to a hopeful normal sex life and no more angst about supposed inferiority

  7. Jessica says:

    Wow, Neil….you sure do make Sophia sound terrific – I’m afraid if she ever got her own blog, you would be come known as “that guy who introduced me to Sophia’s blog.”

  8. Relationship problems are sometimes overthought.

    I have California to thank for trending stores to clean bright spaces with lawn furniture and water hoses, huh?

  9. CrankMama says:

    You raise a great point! So glad I changed my name, for as a career woman I’m already contributing to the emasculation of my dear hub.

    -Mrs. Sibley

  10. Rachel says:

    awww you sound like such a good boyfriend.

    I read that Forbes article…kind of creepy.

    Though I have never in my life made more money than my boyfriend – there is still time:)

    That is – when I get published and get #1 bestseller list and all that ;)

  11. Danny says:

    Woo-hoo, I finally made “Blog Crush of the Day!” And here I was convinced that this feature was simply a flirting tool for your bevy of female readers. Or maybe it was but now that you signed up for your own Vons card you feel secure enough in your masculinity to stop ignoring your male readers!

    Vons always scared me for some reason, I buy most of my staples at Ralph’s. But I’d cut my tongue out before buying meat in either of those stores, for that I go to Whole Foods, Gelson’s, or the butchers at Farmers Market even though all of them probably use the same cache of diseased cows.

  12. Neil says:

    Danny — I know EXACTLY why Vons creeps you out. When I moved here, the first thing I said was, “Vons? Who the hell names a supermarket with a Nazi name?”

  13. heidi says:

    I always use Mr. Pancake’s card but I love when they callme Mrs. Pancake!!!

    Oh and we career women rock! I make the big bucks AND make dinner AND iron the shirts! But I DON’T condone his staying at home to blogs. His ass can go to work just like me!

  14. Heather says:

    This is excellent. I hate grocery stores, there is no love in our house after the grocery store. And while I really thinking you are setting a bad example here of marital infidelity (haha) I don’t blame her for never calling again.

    And the same thing happens with me with my Safeway card. I think I was like Robert Black or something like that, and clearly I was a fraud, since I am a girl. But I dont like them to surveil my shopping habits anyway. No one needs to know how many fig newtons I buy!

    That mind of yours, I think you think about sex allatime, eh? Way to go!

  15. Caryn says:

    Ahh, I miss Ralph’s

  16. George says:

    Vons Card data is never shared with anyone, therefore enabling a firewall against the subpoena of anyone’s data.

  17. Fitena says:

    I can’t believe am laughing while reading about an old woman who died ina supermarket and was left there! lol! Am I?
    Why did it take you so long to sign up your own anyway huh?


  18. Michael says:

    Ahhh… funny story, but I missed something. I missed the part where you, ah… SEPARATED or DIVORCED from Sophia? I mean, you WOULDN’T be sleeping with another WOMAN while married, right?

    Oops, my bad…this is California. Guilt doesn’t prevent erectile dysfunction, the stupid Vons Club card does the trick.


  19. Roonie says:

    This was a great post. And now I know who Sophia is!

  20. Amanda says:

    Great story. I did a google search for “Vons card change phone number” and your blog came up. (I just moved and need to change my contact info.) Very amusing!

  21. Andrew says:

    Interesting story. Kinda feel bad for you that something so insignificant as a mistaken name can give you performance difficulties, I’m suspecting there’s probably deeper issues than just name there. But hey. Enjoy that new card of yours there, pal.

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