Hi, there.  This is going to be a short post because I’m writing this on the laptop while I’m driving across country.  I took off on Friday to start my road trip.  I’m not sure what this says about the morality of American women, but it is almost TOO easy to accomplish my goal of 50 women, 50 States.

My first stop from California was in Nevada, where I met Jennifer watching the Bellagio “water” show with her girlfriends.  She was in Vegas for her bachelorette party and she was very eager to go for one last fling, especially when she heard my name and recognized it from all those “Best Blogs of the Blogosphere” lists. 

“I’d love to be the first lay on your Road Trip!” she announced.

The sex was amazing.  Her fiancee from back home, Dr. Anderson Traub of Wilmington, Delaware, is one lucky guy, that is if she still does this sort of stuff once she gets married.   After a couple of rounds of intense lovemaking, I gave her some advice about her upcoming wedding. 

“Always remember –” I told her, “that you and Anderson should enjoy the event as much as the guests.  The wedding is for you!”

The best of luck to both of them!   Mazel tov!  

Recently, I had a discussion with Dagny about whether it is appropriate or not to mention the ethnicity of someone in a post.  In Sedona, Arizona, I had an interesting experience.    Does it really matter that Carla was a black woman?  Probably not, but since it was my first experience bedding an African-American, I feel that this information is relevant.   But even more importantly, I certainly think it is essential for you to know that Carla is a massage therapist and KEGELS instructor!   That certainly mattered a lot more in bed than her skin color!  When they say there is a “spiritual vibe” in the red rocks of Sedona, I now know what they are talking about!  I certainly felt my chakras rising!

In Salt Lake City, I took some time out for a little tourism.   The Mormon Temple is beautiful.  And the members of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir truly have voices like angels!  I really appreciated being taken around the church grounds by my lovely tour guide, Sarah.  After sitting through a few videos about her religion, she was more than willing to go out with me for some ice cream (she doesn’t drink and Salt Lake City has a lot of great ice cream making up for the lack of bars).   As we enjoyed the sweets, I told her about my Road Trip, and she was so excited about participating  Utah rocks!  She was a lot of fun and a great conversationalist.  Ironically — I thought this was amusing — the only sex position she doesn’t like is… the missionary one.

Despite the good times, I’m feeling a little down.  I’m having some doubts about the whole enterprise.  Once I accomplish it all, will there be anything to show for it?   Will this be the biggest accomplishment of my life?  Will I be like Gary Coleman or Todd Bridges, always looking back to the one sitcom they were in, knowing they never could achieve the same greatness?

And — I hate to bring up this mushy stuff — but what about love?  Romance?  Sure, there is something intriguing about bedding 50 women in 50 states?  But isn’t there something a little superficial about the idea?  I can see maybe going to Hawaii and having sex with some lonely busineswoman for the night, but ALL 50 States?  Is this what our Founding Fathers really had in mind with the concept of ONE country, indivisible?

Where does love come into play with all this?  Wouldn’t it be better to turn back, go into therapy, and try to make a REAL relationship work?

“No!  Do not turn back!” said a German-sounding voice.

“Who is this?”

“This is Doctor Sigmund Freud, talking to you from the beyond!  You must continue on with your quest!”

“Sigmund Freud my ass.  That is the worst attempt at an accent EVAH, Penis.”

“You can’t turn back now.  You’re doing so well!”  said my Penis.  “The last three days have been terrific!  This is the best trip we ever went on together!”

“What about the time we went to Cooperstown with my parents?”

“You’re a moron, Neilochka.   We couldn’t even masturbate that weekend because you were afraid of the parents walking in.”

“What about all the cool baseball stuff we saw at the museum.  And remember that female docent? That was the first time I  saw a woman not wearing a bra.”

“That’s right!  And she kept on talking about Joe Dimaggio’s big bat!   Boner-time   Ha Ha.   We were so immature back then!”

“That was a long long time ago.”

“Her name was Tracey.” said my Penis.

“The docent from Cooperstown?  You remember her name, Penis?”

“Not only that!  I googled her name and found out she now lives in Austin, Texas.”

“Why did you do that?

“Because we’re turning this car around and going to Texas to find Tracey.  Ride ‘em, Cowgirl!”

“This woman must be like sixty years old by now?”

“So? I don’t see any problem with that!”

Dear Reader:  Please help me!  Should I listen to my Penis and continue onto Texas

or

should I turn back like a rational person, find a good therapist, and focus on a real relationship?

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:   The Sidewalk of Love

Today, I stop being depressed.  I do this by coming up with a plan.  I have decided to look at the positive side of things.  If things fall through with Sophia, I will see the opportunity,  and not the regret.   I will focus on my FREEDOM to be who I WANT to be and to DO what I want to do!

Let me speak to my male blogging friends directly:

I know that many of you are married with children.  I am happy for you.   You are living lives of comfort.   But we both know the truth — you have sacrificed your dreams in accepting this marital bliss.  You have gained a wife’s soft bosom and the joy of a child’s laughter, but it has required a compromise — you have packed your dreams in the dusty attic of your mind, never to be seen again.

I understand.  I was once JUST LIKE YOU, content just to be able to play with a woman’s breasts ANY TIME I wanted to (well, accept before 8AM or during periods)!  Who wouldn’t become complacent under those conditions? 

But I am lucky.   Show no pity for me concerning my situation with Sophia.  This might be the best thing to ever happen to me.

My plan now is to LIVE MY DREAM.   It may be too late for you, my married male blogger friends, but you can certainly help me plan my dream.  Maybe you can live your dream vicariously through me.

I’ll probably end up back in Los Angeles to live, but I thought of going to New York for a while and visiting my mother… maybe even check things out there while I get some therapy.   I was going to fly there, but then I had an idea — why don’t I just drive across this great country of ours?   Then came inspiration!   It was like the stars converged over my head, giving me the opportunity to accomplish my life-long dream –

– yes, getting laid by a different woman in all fifty states. 

Why settle for just one when America offers so much variety?!

All men have this dream,  but how many of us get to achieve it?  We always get bogged down with marriage and babies and cleaning out the garage!

Not me!

I’ve had a slow start.  I’ve only had sex in two states.  Sure, they are the most populous — New York and California, but even Barak Obama can’t win the election with just two states under his belt. (wait a minute:  I think there was one time in Vermont.  I just don’t remember if I made it through the actual “sex” part).

Men, here’s where you can help.  What do you think would be the best route to accomplish all 50 states from California to New York?  I’m not really sure how to program the GPS for this type of information?  How much time should I take in each state?  Remember, I need to drive in town, get a hotel, meet someone, AND get laid — all before I move on to the next state.  Do you think I will need the same amount of time in red states as blue states?  So far, I don’t have any specific plans.  The only “sure-shot” I know about is Blogger X in New Jersey, but she is mad at me right now for not reading her blog lately.  I guess I can always tell her that “I read it in Bloglines!”   Women buy any excuse, right, guys?!

Back to the planning phase.  I will need to also hit Hawaii and Alaska.  Do you think I should hit Hawaii first for the lei, since fares from LAX are pretty reasonable?  I’m also debating whether I should go the southern route via the Gulf States first — before we get too far into the hurricane season.   I’ll probably wait until it is colder before I make the Northern States.  I’m figuring that by then, women will probably be hornier and more desperate, especially around the time of the Christmas parties and New Year’s Eve.

What do you think?  Will it take that long or can I wrap this up by Columbus Day?

Men, I really hope that I can be an inspiration to you.  If I can impart any wisdom to you, it is “Don’t Let Women Rule Your Life — Always Follow Your Dream.”

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:   Mel Gibson Arrested for DUI

8AM –

Every morning, when I turn my IM on, I see Alissa online, probably from her office.  She can see me online at the same time.  For weeks, we just stared at each other, neither wanting to bother the other.  I knew she was there and she knew that I was there.  Eventually, it just made me feel uncomfortable.  It was time to take some action –

Neil (via IM):  “Alissa, we have to do something about this.  We both see each other.  We both know we’re online.  It just seems rude to not say anything.  Isn’t there some sort of IM etiquette that we can follow?”

Alissa:  “I don’t think so.”

We came up with a plan.  We decided it was OK to say “Hello… but now I’m going to ignore you,” the online equivalent of the friendly, but superficial “hello” you might get from someone in the office.

It works for us.  I think we should all use this technique when we go on IM.  Isn’t it better to say, “Hi, but I’m now going to ignore you,” rather than just ignoring someone in silence?

8:30AM –

While in Starbucks this morning, I sat next to two guys reading the sports section of the LA Times… about Barry Bonds.   Dodger Stadium has been sold out this week because the Giants are in town and Barry Bonds is just one home run away from tying the record of Hank Aaron.  But so far, Bonds hasn’t hit any home runs in Los Angeles.

Guy #1:   “I think the Dodgers are doing it on purpose… throwing bad pitches at him.”
Guy #2:   ”Yeah?”
Guy#1:    “It is Major League Baseball. The guys in power don’t want Barry Bonds to succeed. They don’t want him to hit a home run.”
Guy #2:   “The steroids thing?”
Guy#1:   “Nah. It’s because he’s black. And they don’t want to a black man to be the record-holder.”

9AM –

I think it is apparent that I’m a little down over my situation with Sophia.  I’ve been trying to think positive thoughts, like in “The Secret,” hoping that laws of attraction will bring me some good news.  When I came back from Starbucks, I heard Sophia calling to me from upstairs:

“Neil, you got a call from CBS!”

“CBS?!” I asked myself,  “What could this mean?  Is CBS reading my blog and now they want to offer me a sitcom based on my life?  Do they want to hire me to be a writer?  As a producer?  Do they want to sponsor BlogHim and make it into a reality show, with me as the host?

I ran upstairs, three steps at a time, reaching Sophia in five seconds flat. I was out of breath.

“CBS called?  What did they say?  What did they want?!”

“CBS called?” asked Sophia. “No.  I said CVS called.  Your cholesterol medicine is ready.”

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  Los Angeles: The Glamorous Life

Have you ever wondered exactly WHO is reading your blog? I don’t mean your stats, but the demographics of your readership. This information can be useful for your advertisers, including mine, once I actually get some. I’m quite interested in learning more about you, so please take my first ever DEMOGRAPHIC survey. If you feel uncomfortable answering some of the questions in the comments, please email me with the answers. Your answers are safe with me. My mother taught me that gossiping is a sin.

Demographic Information:

Please choose one answer from each category –

Sex: Male, Female, Transgender

Age: under 21, 21-30, 30-40, 40-50, over 50

Religion: Protestant, Catholic, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Mormon, Atheist, Scientologist, Mennonite (for Schmutzie), Other Weird One

Political Affiliation: Bush-hater, Bush-lover, Unconcerned

Ancilliary Questions:

Are you married or single?

If you are a single female, would you date a man of another religion or color?

If you answered yes, please continue here:

Would you date a man who is separated, but still married?

Would you date a man who is living with his mother after being thrown out of the house by his separated wife?

Would you date a man who has not gone on a “real” date in many many years?

When you date men, how many dates does it take before you usually “put out?”

Do men usually say you are “good in bed?”

If you answered “Yes” to the last question, please continue with this multiple choice question.

How long do you expect the man to “last” in bed?

A) Under three minutes.

B) A half hour.

C) Three hours.

If you chose Choice A, please answer the final multiple choice question.

Imagine you are dating an amazing new man. Imagine you take him to your bedroom after the third date, and you become intimate. What words would best describe this man if during his orgasm, he started to sob uncontrollably, then babbled on about his separated wife for a half hour (10x longer than the actual sex)?

A) Disappointing and Strange

B) Psychotic and Loser

C) Sensitive and Sexy

If you chose Choice C, please email me immediately at neilochka at yahoo dot com for a special prize.

Thank you for taking the survey.

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: Summer Radio

Do you see how white I become after three days of not shaving?

Meet Bob. He lives in Redondo Beach. He’s a…uh… an accountant… but a loveable one. Imagine a cross between Tom Hanks, Luke Wilson, and Perez Hilton. One day, his girlfriend suggests he move out. He is distraught. He turns to his friends for help, but most of his friends are female and too busy getting ready to attend AccountantHer. When he asks if he can go to AccountantHer with them, they laugh at him. No man goes to AccountantHer! This makes Bob feel even more alone. He wanders the streets until he finds himself at a County Fair.

Bob may be alone, but this photo was taken by Sophia.

At the fair, he stumbles onto something he has never heard of — the table setting competition. Different “artists” compete by creating themes for their table settings. Bob is fascinated by this unique artform. He has found his calling. He decides that HE will become THE next table setting champion of America and regain his confidence.

He tells all his friends about his new dream, and they mock him, calling him “a dreamer.” Just when Bob is about to give up, he meets Mrs. Migashi, a mild-mannered health food store owner from Torrance, California, who just happens to be a famous table setter from Kyoto, and an expert in the Japanese form of this art. Mrs. Migashi does not have a son, and has always wanted to impart her wisdom to someone worthy of her knowledge.

“Teach me everything you know,” says Bob.

Bob immediately takes to the art, creating artistic table settings based on exotic locales and scenes from movies. He is especially proud of his dessert table titled “Lord of the Ring-Dings.”

Mrs. Migashi is not impressed.

“Table setting is not about throwing random paint around, like a Jackson Pollock painting.” she slowly says, educating him. “It requires discipline. Did you know that the dinner plate MUST be exactly one inch from the edge of the table? Or that points will be deducted if the knife does not perfectly align with the center of the water glass? Do you know the correct position and direction of the dessert spoon? Did you even know there WAS a dessert spoon?”

This one might have done better than 3rd Place if the artist didn’t use The Two Buck Chuck (the two dollar Trader Joe’s wine).

“But how will I ever learn all these things about table settings?” asks Bob. “How will I ever be ready for the National Championship in Tucson, Arizona?”

“You must focus.” says Mrs. Migashi. “You must wash my dishes every night, for two months, give me foot massages every other night, and take care of all my needs whenever I make a “booty call.”

“What does this have to do with table settings?” asks Bob.

“Do not question the master!” she shouts.

Two months and many booty calls later, Bob wins the National Tablesetting Championship, and regains his confidence.

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: Sex Advice for Men

(Actually, Sophia and I took a break from life and are in an Orange County hotel spending our weekend eating Salvadorian food, listening to jazz (the wonderfull Jeri Brown) at this odd jazz club in a former bank vault, going bowling in Irvine, and playing Ms. Pac-Man at the bowling alley arcade. I won the bowling; Sophia killed me in Ms. Pac-Man. Tonight, when it gets cool enough for Sophia, we’re off to the Orange County Fair for some animal-watching, corn on the cob, and the table setting competition. My BlogHim post will be coming soon. I loved that other men wrote something in honor of their manhood.

As we were bowling, a group of young kids were having a birthday party at the lane next to us. The girls were hardly paying attention to the game, but talking and playing with each other. The boys were already competitive and making fun of the girls because they were using the “rails” to prevent gutter balls. It was as if the gender stereotypes of generations were already in place. I could still easily see these girls as attending some future BlogHer and networking with fellow women. But where would the boys go?)

Sophia thinks that I might be leading my readers into taking my side concerning any troubles that we are having in our relationship. Of course, Sophia and I are both responsible for where we are right now. I hope you will be open and not take one side or another. If anything, I think you can draw your own conclusions from the evidence on hand. Here is a little video of Sophia I took last night when we went out to our favorite night spot. Watch Sophia as she does an “innocent little” impromptu “karaoke” on my behalf. I think you can pretty much see who is to blame for everything.

Please note that the name “Neil” is translated into “Johnny” in Russian.

First there was –

Neilochka and the Sorcerer’s Wand

Audiences around the world loved the first book of the Neilochka series, as we first meet the young Neilochka, his separated wife, the Sorceress Sophia, and Neilochka’s trusty talking “magic wand.”  After the death of his father, the wizard-in-training and the Sorceress Sophia go on several magical and enchanting adventures, including the exciting battle over the Golden Coupon at Lord Dumbledum’s Olive Garden.

And then you were enchanted by –

Neilochka and the Chamber of Redondowarts

The second Neilochka book, another fan favorite, was the perfect blend of wit, whimsy, and macabre, as Neilochka and Sorceress Sophia try to live together in the mysterious Redondowarts School, an imaginative, garden-filled school of Witchcraft, Wizardry, and Purple Bathrobes.   The tone of this sequel turns dark as the duo face the evil Pink Dragon of Fire, but they are luckily aided by two of the series’ most colorful characters, the Baby Pigeon of Dimwit and Queen Abbbabba, the musical Dancing Queen.

and now, coming soon  –!

Neilochka and the Order of the Mistress

Soon, readers everywhere will be spellbound by the most breath-taking Neilochka book ever!  The heart of Book 3 is a hero’s journey, not just Neilochka’s search for fame and glory, but Neilochka’s journey into manhood.   Traumatized by her battle with the Pink Dragon, Sorceress Sophia is told by the Magic Headshrinker of Freudinroy that she requires healing.  Fans of the series will be shocked as the Sorceress requests that Neilochka leave Redondowarts for several months, giving her the space so she can work on her spells. 

But where will Neilochka go?  Will he go to the big city and reconnect with his long-lost mother or will he live as a prisoner in the Azkabian Bachelor Apartments of Muggyville?  Will Neilochka and the Sorceress ever reunite or is this their final chapter together?

Readers beware.  This journey is hard, filled with events both tragic and triumphant.  However, as long as Neilochka has his trusty talking magic wand, ready to  perform the protective Erecto Patronum when it is called for, he will never be truly alone.

Why does it have to be so complicated with women?

Enough already.

It was inevitable. Our beautiful patio that I have been writing about for weeks, the beautiful locale that produced the lovely flowers and tasty tomatoes, had became a place that required “work” and produced “conflict.” All of a sudden, there were issues to be resolved:

Who is responsible for watering the plants?

Who should take care of the minutia of problems that crop up with live plants and flowers?

Who should get rid of the pigeons that have set up a permanent nest on our roof and no matter what we do, come back and crap on everything?

Who should rid the patio of the two wasp hives that have suddenly developed outside?

Who should spray the patio with scary pesticides after a quarter of of our plants have been eaten by pests? (I did — wearing a mask, goggles and winter hat to protect myself from the fumes!)

And who’s at fault for a broken pot — the one who tripped over it or the one who put it in the “wrong” place?

When I told Finn and Charming with Single about this, they suggested that the garden is a metaphor for marriage. What starts out all fun and romantic, falls apart if taken for granted. Like everything else, it NEEDS WORK to thrive.

All this drama has affected my blog writing. Have you ever been in a really bad mood or so upset at your wife that you couldn’t focus on writing a post, so you decided to ask someone to write a “guest post” for you?

Unfortunately, I had trouble deciding on who to ask to “substitute” for me at my blog. After all, who amongst you could maintain the usual high quality of “Citizen of the Month.” I certainly don’t want you plastering photos of your snot-filled babies or your LOLcats all over the place. (to my detractors — posting photos of Sophia holding out tomatoes is a completely different thing. Great writers and poets have been writing about gardens and the symbolism of vegetation since the beginning of time).

I walked to my local Starbucks, hoping to be inspired by all the conversation around me, but all I could think about was the same thing that had been on mind all day — why would Sophia (expurgated) when I told her that (expurgated), since — tell me if I’m wrong — isn’t marriage supposed to be (expurgated)?

“Screw it, ” I told myself. I don’t want to write anything today. If I had my druthers, I would just throw in another photo of Sophia in a dress, but then those literary NY bloggers will stop reading me, thinking me too superficial and “LA.”

So, I still needed a post, but I was dry. I had no one to turn to. So, I had an idea. Why not just pass my laptop to the Asian guy sitting next to me in Starbucks? I’m sure he can write a decent post for “Citizen of the Month.” It certainly couldn’t be worse than letting ONE OF YOU do a guest post!

Neil:   “Hey, what’s your name?”

Matt:   ”Matt.”

Neil:   “What do you do, Matt?”

Matt:   “I’m a graduate student in economics at UCLA.”

Neil:   “Great. Here’s the laptop. Write about anything you want. My readers are curious to hear your views.”

The Love of a Woman by Matt (guest-blogging for Citizen of the Month)

Love sucks. Love is like a virus that first attacks the brain, then the heart. It destroy everything inside of you, until you are left dead and decaying on the hot pavement, the only sound that you can hear coming from your old apartment, as your ex-girlfriend screws that new guy she met, screaming his name like a wild coyote.

Matt suddenly started to sob.

Matt:   ”I hate her… and love her.”

Neil:   “Uh, very interesting, Matt, but not really what I was looking for. I usually try for more “upbeat” posts. Your post is too depressing. But thanks for trying…. (under my breath)… nutcase.”

I grabbed my laptop and searched for another guest poster. On the opposite side of Starbucks, I saw another guy — a blond, beach boy type — sitting with his friend and laughing. He seemed to be in a great mood. I immediately ran over to him.

Neil:   “Hi, there. Would you like to guest post on my blog today?”

Pete:   “Sure.”

Neil:   “What’s your name?”

Pete:   “Pete.”

Neil:   “Go for it, Pete. Write for “Citizen of the Month.”

My Weekend by Pete (guest blogging for Citizen of the Month)

I had a great weekend. I love my life. On Saturday, I played some beach volleyball, then met this new girl on the beach. She looked great in her bikini. At night we went to see Transformers, and then she came back to my place. We must have f***ed all night. She was amazing in bed. She was insatiable. On Sunday, I went to church, as usual. When I came back, this chick was waiting for me with a homemade breakfast. She’s a great cook. We f***ed some more and then went out for some fish tacos. I was so hungry after all that glorious f***ing. At the Mexican joint, she told me how great I was in bed and that I was the best f*** in Redondo Beach…

Neil:   ”Wait… wait… hold on… this post is way too upbeat for my taste. Your weekend sounds 1000x better than mine. And I really don’t like that last line about you in bed, because I’ve been trying to give my readers a different impression of what’s best in Redondo Beach.”

Pete:   “Hey, I’m sorry, dude. I’m just telling the facts.”

Neil:   “Well, like I said, the post is too happy. Just like the other guy’s post was too depressing. I’m looking for a post that’s JUST RIGHT.

The first guest poster, Matt came over, tears still in his eyes.

Matt:   “Hey, did I hear you say that this girl told you that you were the best f*** in Redondo Beach?”

Pete:   ”That’s right.”

Matt:   “That’s bullshit. That’s what my girlfriend use to say to me.”

Pete:   “Well, sorry, dude.”

Matt:   “Wait a minute… is this girl’s name Meg?”

Pete:   “That’s right. Meg.”

Matt:   “That’s my girlfriend. You were doing my ex-girlfriend. You son of a…”

Matt grabbed Pete and wrestled with him in the middle of Starbucks.

The barista, a burly guy with a goatee, ran out from behind the counter.

Barista:   “Hey, stop it, you asses! Neither of you know what you are talking about. Meg told me that I was the best f*** in Redondo Beach!”

Matt:   “You too? You bastard.”

Matt threw a punch at the barista. Pete threw a punch at Matt, who went flying against the the glass of the pastry display. CRASH! The espresso machines became unhinged and blasted hot water upwards, blowing holes in the ceiling.

Neil:   “Yes!!!! I finally have a post to write. This is not too depressing. This is not too happy. This is JUST RIGHT!”

Update later:  I apologize for letting you read this crazy post, which really makes no sense at all.    Substitute this instead:

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:   Her Real Name   (I asked bloggers to tell me their REAL names, not their phony blog names. Feel free to add to the list)