the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Month: November 2007 (Page 1 of 2)

The First Annual Blogger Holiday Online Arts and Crafts Fair

Arts and Crafts Fair Poster Girl Villanovababy

Welcome to the first ever Blogger Holiday Online Arts and Crafts Fair. 

This is your opportunity to be introduced to the artistic work of some of your favorite bloggers.  It’s the holiday season… the time for gift-giving.  Why not give a unique and handmade gift to your loved ones and friends this year — and support a fellow blogger at the same time?  I think you’ll find a varied group of artists, photograhers, and crafty folk represented here on this page.

Feel free to browse, both here and on the participants’ shopping pages.  You don’t have to buy.  Just enjoy looking at the work of those who are more talented than you, artistic geniuses who make you feel like an uncreative loser.  Ha Ha, of course that is a joke.  You don’t feel bad at all.  They’re ARTISTS.  Chances are that you drive a much nicer car. You get the last laugh!  Thank god for business school!

Of course no arts and craft fair would be complete without some food and entertainment.  Please nosh on our delicious homemade bagels, courtesy of Deb from Smitten Kitchen and Ari from Baking and Books. 

The Battle of the Homemade Bagels —

Deb’s Homemade Bagels

Ari’s Homemade Bagels

Sure, they’re only virtual bagels, but they’re COMPLIMENTARY.  That means they are free!  Woo-hoo! 

There are also two concert areas on the fairgrounds, keeping you entertained as you shop. On STAGE ONE, rock out with British indie band Arctic Monkeys, as they stop by the arts and crafts fair during their west coast tour.  On STAGE TWO, our more intimate staging area, we are proud to present one of America’s finest songwriters, Mr. James Taylor.

I hope you enjoy the Arts and Crafts Fair.  The doors are now open!

Gemstone necklaces from Gillian   
(blog — Tiddleywinks)

Photography from Lisa Duvall
(blog — Fat Chick Running)

Artwork by Kyra
(blog — Shaping My Way)

Photography by Schmutzie
(blog — Milk Money or Not)

Gift Tags by SAJ
(blog — Secret Agent Josephine)

Photography by Leesa
(blog — Piece of My Mind)

Artwork by Angie
(blog — Evangelinethan)

Photography by Susannah
(blog — Ink on my Fingers)

CONCERT STAGE ONE – Arctic Monkeys

Work by Liz Elayne
(blog — Be Present, Be Here)

Photography by Mary
(blog — Maliavale)

T-shirt by Dave
(blog — Blogography)

Jewelry by Sara
(blog — Moving Right Along)

Photography by Stacy
(blog — Jurgen Nation)

Gumball the Kitten Magnets by Bethany
(blog — Bethany Actually)

Artwork by Ellen Bloom
(blog — Los Angeles is my Beat)

Photography by Heather
(blog — Nabbalicious)


Purse by Abigail
(blog — Abigail’s Road to Nowhere)

Photography by 180/360
(blog — 180/360)

Custom Made Felt Pins by Ms. Sizzle
($5 plus shipping – email her at sizzlesays at gmail dot com)
(blog — Sizzle Says)

Photography by Sarah
(blog — Sad and Beautiful)

Baby/Toddler Clothes by Sarah
(blog — Susu g)

Photography by Di Mackey
(blog — Woman Wandering)

Fiber Quilts by Caron
(blogs — All and Nothing, And Still Counting)

Painting by Stacy Elaine
(blog — Pudgy Pigeon Enterprises)

Handmade Hats and Aprons by Leahpeah
(blog — Leahpeah)

Artwork by AscenderRises
(blog — Ascender Rises Above)

Photography by Aimee
(blog — Greeblemonkey)

Art Journal by V-Grrrl
(email her at veronica at v-grrrl dot com for prices)
(blog — V-grrrl in the Middle)

Baby Clothes by Jen Lemen
(blog — Jen Lemen)

Purses by Jaynette

And for those who would rather donate money as a gift, how about getting a cow or a water buffalo for a needy family via The Heifer Project? (thanks Not Fainthearted!)

Dancing with the Stars – Live!


“Dance is the hidden language of the soul.” — dancer and choreographer Martha Graham

“The television, that insidious beast, that Medusa which freezes a billion people to stone every night, staring fixedly, that Siren which called and sang and promised so much and gave, after all, so little.”  — writer Ray Bradbury

Sophia and I showed up at CBS Television City, where, ironically, they shoot ABC’s “Dancing with the Stars.”   It was the final dance-off of the season, and we were excited to see the show live.   The two of us were decked out in our finest clothes, as if we were going to a reception for Queen Elizabeth.   An email explicitly told us to “dress up” as if it were an elegant affair.  There were others waiting to get in, dressed in the same manner — glamorous and beautiful. 

Then reality struck us in the face like a bead flung off Mel B’s sequined dress.  This was not a fancy event.  We were not a paying audience.  We were going to see the taping of a TV show, which means being treated like sheep. 

First up — figuring out which line you are on. 

There was the line for the “celebrities” like the Spice Girls and Ryan from All My Children (yes, Danny, we saw him!).   They went in first.

There was another line for VIPs, mostly agent-looking dudes. 

There was the pseudo-VIP line.  These were the assistants to the agent-looking dudes. 

There was the I-know-someone-but-someone-not-very-important line.  This is where you would stand if your former roommate’s sister is now the makeup person on the show. 

There was a “priority” line for those who didn’t get in last time, and were given a special pass this time, putting them on a line one step before the total nobodies with tickets.  You see, the networks, like Southwest Airlines, overbook — even if you have a ticket — and then leave those unlucky enough standing on the street with a “priority ticket,” and walking back to the bus stop in their dresses and suits with dashed dreams of sitting next to Donny Osmond. 

Everyone, except the Spice Girls, waited… and waited.   A college-age production assistant with a clipboard, humorlessly checked our tickets.  A homeless guy wandered along the line, looking for cans of soda left behind by ticket-holders. 

Hey, ABC — why not send a warm-up guy OUTSIDE and entertain us why we wait forever?   It took almost three hours from arrival to getting inside the studio.  Think about how they do things at Disneyland!  Sure you moved us from spot to spot like you do at the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, but where’s the music?  The fun?  The audience was half asleep by the time we took our seats (crammed in so you can hardly move. I’ve never seen such tiny chairs.)

Most of the public guests were women, and Sophia thought since I was a man, this would help us get a better seat, especially since I was looking good in my blue suit.  She pushed me to be at the outside of the line, so the show ushers would notice me and put us in a visible spot.  On TV, it looks as if the audience is filled with distinguished-looking men.  In reality, the audience was 3/4 women, mostly drooling over Maxim.  Some of these fans are fanatics.  These are women who remember every single judge’s score since season one.

Sophia and I actually got decent seats in the second-tier VIP section, but later we realized that it is probably better to be in the balcony with the average Joes.    The camera was constantly blocking our view.  We were also on the wrong side of the stage.  Later, when we came home, we searched for ourselves on the screen, and all we can find was a one second shot of the back of my head.  We didn’t even bother to call my mother to tell her. 

The real star of the show is — the editing.   Everything is low-key on the set.   The excitement only begins when the warm-up guy jumps up and down, giving us the Pavlovian sign to stand and cheer as if Jesus had just walked in.   The minute it was commercial time, all became silent.  Then, boom — screams of ecstasy!  No wonder so many women in Los Angeles fake their orgasms. They must all work on TV shows, and get in the habit of showing false enthusiasm. 

We cheered, we stood, we booed — everything on cue.   Why did we give everyone a standing ovation, even the bad routines?  Because we were told to!  Why did we boo the judges when they made some intelligent, but constructive comment?  I didn’t boo once.  How impolite!  And why does the audience have to be the toadies for the dancers?  

Tom Bergeron looked pretty sullen and unfriendly during the commercial breaks, and only smiled and became witty when the camera turned on.

Finally, I had enough.  I stood up and spoke my mind.

“Hey, Tom!  What is this with all the fake frivolity?  It’s so much more fun on TV.  Here you all look bored!”

“Yes.  That’s TV.   Boring to make.  At least this a better gig than that dumb “America’s Favorite Videos.”  And  since we’re shooting at CBS, we’re closer to the Farmer’s Market.   I love those donuts at Bob’s.”

“And wait a minute.  Who’s writing this show anyway?  Don’t tell me that Bruno is coming up with those witty comments by himself?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.  We are “ad-libbing” everything during the Writer’s Strike.  Why?  Are you a writer?”

“Well, actually I am.” I said.

“Hmmm… because I really could use someone to help me ad-libbing tonight’s lame jokes.”

“Well, I would, but I don’t want to be a scab.”

“Well, I couldn’t pay you union scale, but I could introduce you to Cheryl Burke.”

“Cheryl Burke, the hottest dancer on the show?  Call me scab.  You got a deal!”


Well, of course that never happened, but thinking about it kept me amused while waiting in line.

On the way home, Sophia and I stopped at the 99 cent only store to pick up some batteries.  I wish we had taken pictures.  It must have looked funny as we walked down the aisles of cheap detergent in our best clothing.   When we went to pay, the checkout girl gave us the once over, and asked us if we are coming back from “our prom.”  That was the best part of the night.

We’re Dancing with the Stars


Sophia got us the hottest tickets in town — today’s taping of the finale of “Dancing With the Stars.”  We need to dress up, first, because they make you, and second, because we notice that only the good-looking people get the seats next to Donny Osmond.    I’m still deciding between wearing a suit or going barechested with suspenders, like Maxim Chmerkovskiy.   Either way, keep your eye out for a banner that reads “Go Marie” on one side, and “2007 Blogger Chrismahanukwanzaakah Holiday Concert — December 10th, on the other.”  Hey, they’re always plugging ABC’s shows, why not me?  You notice that “The Bachelor” just happens to be in the audience the week before the show’s finale? 

Look for us in the audience.

Announcing the 2007 Blogger Christmahanukwanzaakah Online Holiday Concert


“Sing a Christmahanukwanzaakah Song,” recorded by Neilochka (mp3)

Sing, sing a song
Sing out loud
Sing out strong
Sing of dreidels and snow
Sing of Santa and mistletoe

Sing, sing a song
If you’re a blogger
You definitely belong
Don’t worry that you don’t know the words
To Frosty the Snowman well

Just sing
Sing a song

La la la la la… it’s Christmahanukwanzaakah!

It is now time to raise our voices in song again in this new holiday tradition. Hanukkah songs about miracles. Christmas songs about faith. Winter songs about the beauty of the season. Kwanzaa songs about new traditions. It is the 2007 Blogger Christmahanukwanzaakah Online Holiday Concert, right here on Citizen of the Month on Monday, December 10th (with a re-broadcast on Christmas Day). The concert is for YOU and by YOU — and this year will be bigger and better than last year.

If you want to participate, just say so in the comments or email me ASAP. Please try to tell me what song you want to sing, so we don’t have five people all performing “The Little Drummer Boy.”

1) You can send me either an audio file or a video.

2) You can host it on your own site or send the recording to me directly. If you host it yourself, just send me the URL.

3) A blogger must participate in the performance, not just your kid dressed as a snow angel. It must be YOU and your kid singing together, or YOU playing the guitar as backup.

4) I must receive the final song by December 9 for the concert on December 10th. This gives you two weeks to record it.

5) If you have any question on how to record a song, just email me. It is very easy to do using your computer.

6) Have fun! You don’t need to sing perfectly!

7) If you are too much of a wimp to sing, send in a photo of your Christmas tree, Hannukah menorah, snowmen, or your family all dressed up in their Holiday best — we’ll use it to decorate “the set.”

And remember, on November 30 – December 2, the weekend before the concert, there will be the Blogger Holiday Online Arts and Crafts Fair , also hosted here. Come and find some cool Holiday gift ideas, made by bloggers themselves. If you sell your artwork or crafts, and you want to participate as a “vendor,” email me at neilochka at yahoo dot com.

Get Ready for “The First Annual Blogger Holiday Online Arts and Crafts Fair”


The meal is over. We’ve given thanks. We’re feeling spiritual. So, what do we do the next day? We fight over parking spaces in the mall and push old women out of the way so we can get our grubby hands on the latest “Touch Me Elmo” before the next person.

Is that any way to shop for Christmas and Hanukkah gifts? Do you really want to give your hard-earned money to Best Buy, home of “The Computer Salesman who Knows Less Than My Mother?” Do you really want to be stuck eating at the adjacent-to-the-mall Olive Garden ONCE AGAIN! (eh, screw you, Olive Garden lovers — tell it to my hand).

There is a better way. You can help support cool bloggers in their artistic endeavors. At the same time, you can give your friends and relatives very special, unique gifts — made by hand in someone’s kitchen in Tulsa, not in a sweatshop in Thailand.

Announcing —

The First Annual Blogger Holiday Online Arts and Crafts Fair!

photo by OMSH

I love artistic people, especially those who are crafty or in the visual arts. I cannot draw. My photographs suck. The only class I ever failed in school was Woodshop. I hated it. I was scared of using the saw. I ended up with a ridiculous-looking final project — a “chicken” paper holder without a chicken head. I wonder if my mother still has it at home? I am in awe of your artistic talent.

The Arts and Crafts Fair will be held next weekend,  November 30 – December 2, right here.  This gives the artist time enough to send the purchase before Hanukkah and Christmas.  To participate as a vendor, it is is very easy:

1) Send me a photo of one of your art pieces or crafts as an example of your work. This can be your knitting work, your photography, your paintings, etc. — as long as you created it and want to sell it as Holiday gifts! NONE of this has to be holiday-themed at all. It can be anything you want. The photo is just a sample of your work.

2) Send me a link to your online store, Etsy, etc. and to your blog. At your own store, you can sell anything or as much as you want. The fair is here to introduce others to your work.

3) Write a description of your work, if you want to.

All the links will go back to your blogs or stores, where you must deal with the shipping, etc. This exciting event is open to all bloggers, and artists of all skill levels. Show your stuff and promote your work!


This event will be a highlight of the Holiday season. If you need a gift, come on by! Even if you aren’t in a gift-buying mood, stop by and window-browse. The event will be more than just artwork and crafts here at Citizen of the Month. There will be food, laughter, and juggling (all virtual, of course). Artists, knitters, photographers who sell their work — start sending me a photo of your work today!

(and I mean YOU —Ascender, Caron, Ellen Bloom, Susannah, Leahpeah, Leesa, Ms. Mamma, Nabbalicious, Stacey, Kyran, 180/360, Sarah, SAJ, Stacy Elaine, Liz Elayne, Stepping Over Junk, V-Grrrl, Jen Lemen, Di, Abigail, Schmutzie, Kyra, Shoe of Salvation, etc. — did I forget anyone?)

(Coming up next — the announcement of the biggest event of them all — The 2007 Blogger Christmahanukwanzaakah Online Holiday Concert)


The Third Annual “Thank Your First Commenter Day”


Much like the Pilgrims thanked the Indians after they had their first decent meal in the New World, I like to use Thanksgiving, not only as an excuse to stuff myself with turkey, but as an opportunity to thank the first blogger who ever commented on this blog.  This individual is the one who transformed Citizen of the Month from a dopey journal where I write about nonsense to a… uh, dopey “blog” where I write about nonsense and others read it!

I can’t believe that I’ve been blogging for three years already, and I’m up to thanking my THIRD commenter. THREE YEARS?! Three years without getting a penny from blogging! Three years without feeling up one female blogger! What the hell am I doing this for?! But like those hardy Pilgrims, I continue on and face my demons, doing the hard work to build something worthwhile, never asking for thanks, just knowing that one day my ancestors will be in the Social Register, discriminating against YOU at the country clubs in Connecticut.

Oh, right. And for the comments. I love my commenters!

My first commenter with Terry Finley. It was a short relationship. After his one comment, we lost touch, and he abandoned his blog. Still, we always remember our first, don’t we?… unless it was really, really bad. But Terry was pretty nice. Here was his comment:

Nice blog. Thank you.

Our health is really important.

Check out my blog.

Terry Finley

My blogging career was underway.

My SECOND commenter was The Reluctant Optimist (well, actually he was called something else at the time, but then he changed his name, worrying that his frequent posts about big-breasted women might sabatoge his work with the United States Military. He is very special to me, especially since he is a MALE reader who still reads this blog.

This is what I wrote about him last year:

At first glance, TRO and I have little in common. He is a Southerner, a former Air Force Officer who served with the Air Force Office of Special Investigations. But blogging can make strange bedfellows, and despite our differences in political views at times, we immediately bonded over our love for buxom brunettes. Now, THAT is what the true meaning of the blogosphere is all about. So, thank you TRO!

(TRO — Loved that recent photo of Selma Hayek (you’re never gonna get a date if you spell her name as Hyack. What an actress!)

Surprisingly, his first comment shows no evidence of our future friendship (or does it?):

Two problems with your post.

One, this was not hard news. It wasn’t news at all. Evidently it was fiction.

Secondly, an inflammatory story like this can cause violence — especially in the middle-east where violence is inflamed quite easily. Comparing it to the questionable effects of a video game is faulty logic at best and disingenuous at worst.

And the Arab “street” believes it because they keep hearing it from the liberal anti-American media as well as their own anti-American outlets.

That’s why blogging is so great. It always surprises you!

This year, I will thank my THIRD COMMENTER – Richard Heft.  This is a unique situation, because Richard is actually a “real life” person, someone who knew me B.B. –“before blogging.”   He was good friends with Sophia before she met me, and then we became friends.  I only  have a few real-life friends who ever come to my blog.   Although Richard doesn’t have a blog himself, he comes by every once in a while, showing off his brains and wit. Naturally, his first comment was about some esoteric foreign movies.

One of the problems with concepts like the YMDB is that you really need two lists: my list of “Favorite” films (which always starts with ABBOTT & COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN) bears no resemblance to my list of “Best” films ever made (which starts with TOKYO STORY, SUNRISE, OR CHILDREN OF PARADISE, depending on the phases of the moon).

I’ve never seen THE GREEN RAY (I assume it’s a French adaptation of the Green Lantern comic book; what else COULD it be?), but I’ve always filed LIFE & DEATH OF COLONEL BLIMP under “mammoth but minor.” It’s basically a long (long!) propaganda film, with memorable performances by Livesey and Walbrook, but I’ve never felt the urge to watch it a second time. For WWII-era Michael Powell movies, I much prefer A CANTERBURY TALE and THE 49TH PARALLEL.

And for you and Dinah to hook up, Neal, you’re going to have to brush up your Mizoguchi and hone your Ozu.

Thank you, Richard, for being my third commenter and a good friend, even if no one understood what we were talking about during that post! And “Dinah” ended up being Communicatrix, but that’s another story.

Who was your first commenter? Or second? If you want to thank your first commenter for Thanksgiving, it’s easy. Just go all the way back into your archives and there he or she is — waiting for you!

Other thankful bloggers:  Kapgar, Danny, Ascender, Elisabeth, Otir (thankful in French, which is sexy), 180/360, Nance, and Not Fainthearted.

P.S. —

My father loved watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. At the end, he would call me over, yelling all excitedly, “It’s Santa Claus!” I don’t understand why this middle-aged Jewish man loved Santa Claus so much. At the hospital he worked in, he dressed up as Santa Claus during every Christmas and went to the children’s ward to give gifts. He was the scrawniest Santa Claus ever, in his thick Woody Allen-type glasses.

Thanksgiving means the start of the Holiday Season, not only because Macy’s wants to sells me stuff, but because that’s how I remember it. I remember the enthusiasm of my father… and we didn’t even celebrate Christmas!

So, coming up LATER THIS WEEK — two announcements about upcoming events:

1) The First Blogger Holiday Arts and Crafts Sale (bloggers — sell your artwork, doo-dads, and knitted hats AS GIFTS — at the biggest promotional blog post ever! Right here on Citizen of the Month!)


And, of course… The 2007 Blogger Christmahanukwanzaakah Online Holiday Concert (can we make it even more fabulous than last year?!) I’ll try to improve on last year’s lame Hanukkah “Latkes song.” Take out those instruments and get ready to sing!

(Sign up will begin shortly. Kyran is already practicing her Jingle Bells)

Jamelah, 2006 Christmahanukwanzaakah Concert Poster Girl

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: A Charlie Brown Blog Post (for Ninja Poodles)

Rock Me, Franz Schubert


I enjoy Beethoven, Mozart, and Bartok, but there is some classical music that knocks me out faster than a twelve pack of codeine. Like Schubert. I wasn’t pleased to go the Philharmonic this weekend and see his infamous name in the program: Mr. Sandman himself, Franz Peter Schubert.

“Well, no problem,” I said to myself as we entered the symphony hall. “Since I’m such a cheapskate, I got tickets in Row X of the orchestra, so no one will even notice when I’m snoring and drooling all over the button-down shirt Sophia bought me at Ross Dress-for-Less.”

Unfortunately, Sophia had plans of her own. Yes, I’ve mentioned this several hundred times on this very blog: Sophia does not like sitting in the crappy seats I buy.

“It’s going to be half empty,” she said. “Let’s wait in the back until five minutes before the performance, and then take some empty seats near the front.”

“But it’s Schubert!” I protested. Why didn’t you tell me they were playing Schubert?!”

“Don’t worry. I’ll kick you in the shin if you snore.”

We had ten minutes to kill before the concert. An attractive blond stood next to us in the back of the auditorium. She had the same idea as we did — to wait for better seats. Sophia struck up a conversation with her, seeing that they were soulmates. The woman turned out to be the newly-married wife of one of the symphony’s cellists, and her seat was at the end of row S, giving her a mere glimpse of her beloved husband’s back.  She wanted to see the expression on his face as he played.  How romantic.

When Sophia noticed the ushers closing the doors, we picked out two center seats with our eyes, then grabbed them greedily.  Finders Keepers.  I’m much better at switching seats than I was when I first met Sophia. I used to be terribly anxious about doing this, fearful that the real ticket-holders will come in late and make an angry scene, the performance would end abruptly, the conductor would walk out in protest, a spotlight would shine on me, and then the disgusted mob would belt me with opera glasses.  However, after ten years of the “real” ticket-holders NEVER showing up, I’ve grown into a hardened criminal.  I’m only anxious for the first five minutes of our stealing the seats, rather than the rest of the week.

Today my anxiety was not about the seats.  It would come from another source.  You see, there wasn’t just two open seats in this row. There were THREE.  As I settled in my seat, the cellist’s wife slid right next to me. The cellist’s wife!

“Oh no,” I thought. “How can I fall asleep during Schubert when one of the orchestra member’s WIVES was sitting next to me.  It would be as if I’m insulting his musical talent!”

“This is his first performance with the orchestra,” she told Sophia.

Ugh.  Sophia kicked me… and I wasn’t even sleeping yet.

I don’t remember who the first piece was by, but it was sufficiently bombastic to keep me awake.  I never have problems with musical pieces about cannon fire, like the 1812 Overture.

Then, there was a hush over the land.  The condutor lifted his baton, and the orchestra started to play Schubert, the early 18th Century’s equivalent of John Tesh.  I could feel my eyes start to close.

(sidenote – I promised myself that I wasn’t going to write about sex this week, since I went a little overboard last week, but I’m going to break that promise.  You’ll see where I’m going in a second)

Men, remember when you were first starting have sex? And just seeing a bra strap was enough to send you over the edge, and the girl would be all disappointed because you lasted about three seconds? And your friend who knew everything from reading his father’s Penthouse magazines told you to think about something boring, like Geometry, while you were with a girl, so then you can last three hours, like the guys do in those sex movies that you used to try to watch, even though they were scrambled on your parents’ cable?

I thought about the good ol’ days while I was sitting there listening to Schubert. It was so boring and my eyes were closing. I just didn’t want to hurt this woman’s feeling.  Disappointing a woman in sex is one thing, but to make her feel bad about her husband’s cello playing — that’s just cruel.  I would distract myself like I had done so many times before, not to keep the love going, but to keep myself awake!  I tried to remember some Geometry.  I stepped on my own foot.  I tried writing a blog post in my head.  I pushed my thumbnail into my arm.  I bit my tongue.  I even thought of poking myself in the eyes. When the Schubert was over, I patted myself on the back, proud of my restraint and accomplishment.

It was then when Sophia woke me up, shaking her head in embarrassment, telling me that it was time for intermission. I  noticed that the cellist’s wife had just darted off, not saying good-bye.  Apparently, my head was bobbing up and down during the whole piece, the snoring only beginning during the cello solos.

The cellist’s wife sat elsewhere for the rest of the concert.

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: “If I Did It,” by John Wilkes Booth

For Palinode

Bloggers are a supportive group. I’ll never forget how great everyone was during Sophia’s cancer surgery. In May, many bloggers helped support Schmutzie during her cancer surgery by sending her a picture of a rooster, or cock (hee hee), a symbol of healing and strength… and it worked. Today, she is healthy.


Now, her husband and fellow blogger, Palinode, is at home after having some painful back surgery in the hospital. It seems only appropriate for me to send him something healing, as well. It can’t all be about the babes, can it? I love the male bloggers, too… even if it is to a lesser extent.


Hey… Palinode… you’re ALREADY flat on your back! (not responsible for how you interpret this)

Penis and Vajayjay


She looked down at me, but could only see the top of my head, resting comfortably between her legs.  She moaned as the rest of my face was deep inside, pleasuring her vajayjay.

Not a very good beginning to my latest erotic story, is it?!   I’m so out of it.   Until I saw this article yesterday in the New York Times, I had never heard of the word “vajayjay.”  Apparently, this euphemism for vagina got “her” start on a TV show.

It began on Feb. 12, 2006, when viewers of the ABC series “Grey’s Anatomy” heard the character Miranda Bailey, a pregnant doctor who had gone into labor, admonish a male intern, “Stop looking at my vajayjay.”

Now do you understand why the TV writers are on strike?  Without them, we would still be crude and calling it a p***y?

Oprah then used the term on her show, catapulting the term into the public domain like Jerry Seinfeld’s wife’s lame cooking book.

As you all know, I write about my Penis a lot.  I actually use the word “Penis.”  That’s what it is called in the English language.  If I want to be a little saucy, I might say c**k, but I tend to use asterisks.  I’m very prim and proper at heart.  I’m not a believer in letting it all “hang out.”  I’d prefer a burlesque show to a strip joint.  I’d rather keep the non-asterisks for private, like for those special moments when the women is quietly murmuring, “Give me your f**king c**k!  Harder!”  I believe in keeping some of the mystery out of the public realm.

If Penis = Vagina, c**k = p***y.  Vagina might be a tad clinical to some, mostly because it isn’t truly the interesting part of the anatomy, or specific enough.  Althoug most women hate it, I personally like the word pussy (there, I said it!) because it is sexy, and women are mysterious, like cats.

Whatever the term, I really really hate “vajayjay.”  It reminds me of childish terms like wee-wee for the penis   Women, please — do not use the term in the bedroom.  Any man will lose his will to live if he hears you scream, “I love the way your wee-wee feels in my vajayjay.”

Neil’s Penis:  Please, No!!!!

Becoming an Adult

I never rebelled against my parents, and that’s unhealthy. They were always there for me. I’m still a child in many ways. (sorry, Mom — not your fault) Now THAT’S unhealthy. It is frustrating to me. It is frustrating to Sophia. I need to be more of an adult.

This is what I talked about with Esther, my therapist, during therapy session #8. This was an important session. If you’ve been reading this blog for awhile, you know that I’m always talking masculinity and “male-ness,” as if this was an issue in my life because I didn’t watch football. Now, I’m thinking I was looking in the wrong place. Who the f**k cares? The question for me isn’t, “What should a MAN be like?” It should be, “What should an ADULT be like?”

During the session (still only 50 minutes!), I found myself feeling very emotional, partly out of shame and partly out of relief. I would have never verbalized these ideas on my own. My self-image is quite different. I’ve always thought of myself as too adult, even as a child — but I think I’ve been fooling myself. I think I was just afraid of doing things and testing myself, and interpreted this as “mature” and “adult.”

These are a couple of ways I can improve my adult mindset —

1) Keep to commitments.

2) Stop feeling the urge to please everyone.

3) Learn to accept adult reality.

These are not just issues for men, but men and women. These are difficult challenges, so I’m going to take baby steps by starting the process first in my blogging life.

1) Keep to commitments.

I have a commitment as a blogger. I enjoy blogging. It is creative. Part of this commitment is participating and reading your blogs. Lately, I’ve been distracted by dumb online applications like Facebook, just because “everyone else is doing it.” There are only so many hours in a day. Wouldn’t you rather I read your blog than play scrabble or snog you with some second rate add-on?

I’m dumping Facebook by the end of the week.

2) Stop feeling the urge to please everyone.

I’ve always hated blogrolls that only list the same ten Dooce-level bloggers. These are the same people who needed to have a designer’s name on the back of their jeans in high school. I love the fact that I add a new blogger to my “blog crushes” every single day. Unfortunately, the list is approaching 300 names. I can’t keep up with everyone. Why try? Why feel guilty? An adult doesn’t need to please everyone all the time.

This week, I’m deleting EVERYONE from the list, and starting from scratch. Look at the positive side — this will give you a another chance to be my blog crush! If I didn’t put you on, don’t take it personally. Emailing me and kissing up always helps.

3) Learn to accept adult reality.

I’m going to be honest. I think I am cooler than most of you. Why? Because I don’t have advertising on my blog. That’s right. Suck it up. This might seem like a dumb blog to you, but I still view myself like a sophomore in college wearing all black who deems himself an “artist” and will never sell his art to the highest bidder. Of course, this attitude is disastrous in real life. Why do I still idolize someone like Van Gogh, living in a seedy rat-infested flat, slowing going insane, and cutting off my ear? Of course, Sophia will laugh because I am afraid of ants, but this a romantic image — not reality. It is a childish image. Immature. It’s OK to have my Penis talk on my blog, but I cringe at the thought of him hawking Starbucks new “Holiday Latte.”

I’ve refused some jobs because of this attitude. Now can you see another reason Sophia wants to kick me out?

Several of you have tried to hook me up with blogads and blogher, but I always seem to “forget” to do it. Sophia wonders what’s so wrong with making two hundred or so bucks by selling ads. Only a child (or someone very rich) says no to money!

This is not one of those “Woe is me. I’m going to add advertising” posts. I should so it — not only for the money, but because it is the adult thing to do.

P.S. — I’m going to need a “Therapy” category soon, won’t I?

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