Category: Life in General (Page 31 of 46)
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1)Â A blogger named Frida linked to me, saying she liked my blog’s humor, and I have been reading her archives all morning.Â
After I saw Frida’s link, I went to her site and was very surprised to learn that she is a human rights officer in Afghanistan. Maybe I am dealing with stereotypes, but I wouldn’t expect someone with this very serious job to be reading Citizen of the Month. I’m now reading through all her archives, and this is such fascinating reading — that I postponed writing a post.  You should check out her blog, Frida’s Notebook. Frida’s humanitarian work in dangerous places makes me ashamed of my blog posts about eating dinner at El Torito.  I bet you anything that this woman does NOT need therapy!  While I can already see that I have a difference of opinion with Frida over Israel, like I do with my blogging friend, Paris Parfait, one CANNOT be unimpressed with how this woman lives her life.
2)Â I’m getting blogged down with my blog reading, so I decided to read your blogs rather than write anything new.Â
There are so many cool blogs out there and so many nice people.  How do people handle all this interaction without going crazy or appearing rude? Here is blogging big-wig (and former Microsoft evangelist) Robert Scoble explaining how he skims through 600 blogs a day. This video is supposed to impress you with his amazing skill in filtering through information. Sorry, Robert, but skimming through 600 blogs a day makes you a jerk.
3)Â My washing machine overflowed and Sophia wants me to fix it.
For some reason, the water from my washing machine won’t go down. I called the “service guy” and he came over, but then honestly told me that to fix it, he would have to charge me MORE money than the machine was actually worth. When he saw my long face, he took me aside and whispered, “You can fix it yourself.” He explained to me how I just need to unscrew some thingamajig and take off something else, and most likely the problem is a coin stuck in the whatever part of some tube. He said this all in a heavy Spanish accent, and even though I hardly understood a word, I thought it was impolite to ask him to repeat it. I’m taking bets. How many of you think the machine will be fixed by the time Sophia shows up?
4) The two flight attendents  from the house next door are sunbathing topless.
Need I say more?
I read over the last few posts and thought there was too much sex stuff going on. I really feel like expressing something beautiful today, like a tender poem, written from the heart. I just can’t think of anything. Sorry.
I searched on Google for a famous painting that I consider beautiful, a Gauguin or a Matisse, and I was going to just publish it as an example of beauty, but it just seemed stupid, publishing someone else’s famous painting.
A few weeks ago, Sophia and I were staying in a hotel, and on Saturday night, there was an Indian wedding. The women and men both wore such exotic clothes, multi-colored saris of the finest fabrics and rare silks for the women, and light-colored suits with intricate embroidery that enhanced the dark complexions of the Indian men.
Indian wedding clothes are beautiful.
I don’t find mountains as beautiful as grasslands. I think I would like living on a farm for a while. I really love rivers. Rivers are beautiful. The Brooklyn Bridge is beautiful. I would like to live by a brook. I really enjoy the sound of water moving, even when I’m standing in the shower. I can shower for an hour. I like to move around, letting the water hit me in different spots, listening to the shower spray off me at different angles, which changes the musical tone of the final splash.
I like that last line. It makes me laugh. The line isn’t beautiful, but laughter is.
There’s no point to this post. I like that. Not everything has to have a point. Like when you give a flower to a girl. What can she do with the flower? Not much other than look at it and enjoy the beauty.
I wish this post was more beautiful, like the sunset in Malibu or the leaves changing to orange in Vermont during the briskness of early Fall.
But I’m not God, so it isn’t easy.
Neil: “Hello.”
Therapist Intern: “Hi, this is Jodi calling from “Neurotics-R-Us” Clinic. I’d like to make a first appointment with you.”
Neil: “Great.”
Therapist Intern: “Which day of the week would you like to come in?”
Neil: “Um…uh…”
Therapist Intern: “Well, actually, now that I look at the calendar, we only have Monday and Wednesday?”
Neil: “That’s good. It makes it easier for me. Because part of my problem is that it is hard for me to make decisions.”
Therapist Intern: “I see. And when would you like to come in?”
Neil: “You mean like morning or afternoon?”
Therapist Intern: “Yes.”
Neil: “Are both available?”
Therapist Intern: “Yes.”
Neil: “Before I give you an answer can I go write a blog post asking my readers if they think a therapist is “better” in the morning, when she is “fresher,” or in the afternoon, when she is in her therapy “groove?””
Therapist Intern: “You realize that this is neurotic and it is something we should discuss, right?”
Neil: “I was joking.”
Therapist Intern: “Humor can be used to cover up serious emotions.”
Neil: “Can I ask you something that is on my mind, now that we’ve talked twice on the phone?”
Therapist Intern: “Of course.”
Neil: “What do you look like?”
Therapist Intern: “Well, I’m a green-eyed, brunette, with horn-rimmed glasses, very shapely, wearing jeans and a top with spaghetti straps, showing a bit of cleavage, and red “f**k me” shoes.”
Neil: “I see. Thank you. I know that in “reality,” I never asked this question, but I appreciate the “imaginary” answer.
Therapist Intern: “Well, while we are drifting off a bit, there is nothing I enjoy more than eating pizza, then riding a neurotic Jewish man, my perfect breasts bouncing, until I’m orgasming to the music of ABBA (the original, not the lame musical, Mamma Mia).”
Neil: “OK, OK, let’s keep the truth quotient to at least around 80% today.”
Therapist Intern: “When would you like to come in?”
Neil: “How about right now?”
Therapist Intern: “How about Wednesday afternoon.”
Neil: “It’s a date!”
A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: Sophia Wants You!
When I took baths as a child, I would create James Bond-type adventure movies right in the bathtub. I didn’t use toys. My hands were my toys. Each hand was a different character. My right hand was the “hero” and the other was the “villain.” These “movies” were action-packed. My hands would have have fist fights. They would swim during underwater battles. The soap dish was a mountain cliff in Hawaii, and when the right hand was trapped by the evil left hand, the hero would jump off the cliff into the “ocean” below. As the hero swam away, he make his final escape by boarding his super-powered motorboat, which was played by my Penis. There was nothing sexual in any of this. My hands and my Penis were actors in a studio blockbuster.
My Penis retired from acting for several years, then — like John Travolta in Pulp Fiction — he made a dramatic comeback when I started this blog. My conversations with my Penis in this blog are not a joke to me. I see them as true, as I do most of things that I write about on this blog.  At times, they might take place in an alternative reality, one different than the one where I went to Mamma Mia with Sophia.
I’ve always had the habit of drifting off into fantasy. Maybe I should talk about this when I go into therapy. Do I use fantasy to escape from reality? Am I still stuck in a world where James Bond still lives in a bathtub in Flushing, New York, and uses my Penis as a motorboat?
When I was twelve, my mind would drift off at the dinner table while the adults talked. As they blabbed, I would imagine the entire table levitating That’s sort of cute. But it’s not adorable to do this as an adult.
In a few weeks, I’m supposed to be moving out of “Sophia’s place.” How am I dealing with this? Am I looking for a new apartment? Have a made a decision about living in NY or LA? No. I’m completely avoiding thinking about it. So, what AM I thinking about?
You already know. How long would it take me to sleep with 50 women in all 50 states?
As Sophia might say, “Like a child.”
One of my fears about therapy is that I will actually have to look at things IN REALITY, something I try to avoid at all costs, like watching Regis and Kelly .
Yesterday, I called up a clinic about going to therapy with one of their therapists. Today, some intern called up and wanted to interview me — on the phone — to learn more about me before I came in for a session.
She asked me all sort of personal questions.
“Do you feel anxious a lot?” she asked.
“Sometimes… uh, maybe… not all the time, but sure, when something is going on that causes anxiety…”
I was not prepared for her questions, certainly not by some faceless intern, who I visualized as a pretty twenty-something brunette with tortoise-shell glasses. I don’t want her to think I’m a loser!
“How is your sex life?” she asked. “Are you happy with your work?” What can you afford to pay?” Are you taking any medications? Have you ever been hospitalized for a psychiatric problem?”
“Uh… it is… uh… uh… no, of course no. Sex life? Well, we are separated, but…. Work? You mean real work? Are you supposed to like work? Sure, everyone can be happier. I’m happy enough? What do you mean about happy?”
Later, during dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, Sophia took me to task.
“Why didn’t you just answer her the truthfully?” she asked. “You shouldn’t go into therapy if you are going to lie to the therapist.”
“I didn’t lie. I wanted to tell her the real truth. I’m just not sure what the “real” truth is?”
“You’re not going to tell me about this childish alternative reality nonsense again? Do you want to do therapy or not?!”
“Well, of course I want to do therapy. It’s just… it’s…it’s…”
Suddenly, our table started to levitate, floating in the air at the Cheesecake Factory. Sophia was so astounded by this amazing event that we never did finish the rest of our conversation.
And that’s the truth.
(As judged by Debbie Allen and Mary Murphy of “So You Think You Can Dance?” and Neilochka)
Debbie Allen
“Can I just say that this performance was perfection personified. Everyone in the cast deserves a standing ovation. My Debbie Allen Dance Academy is open to every single one of you. Mamma Mia was intense and emotional. I felt the spirt from within. Thank you. Thank you everyone who worked on this show. You have inspired a whole new generation of musical theater lovers. You have inspired ME. The vocabulary of your souls touched us today. Thank you.”
Mary Murphy
“All I can say is that after watching this performance of Mamma Mia is — WOO-HOO — GET me TWO TICKETs to the freakin’ hot tamale train and drive it through the tunnel of Abbalicious love!”
Neilochka
“Imagine there’s a popular song that you really like. It speaks to you. The lyrics are about love and loss and when you listen to this song, it feels as if was written especially for you. Now, make believe you hear this song… in a commercial for Viagra.
That is how I felt at Mamma Mia. Like it was one big Viagra commercial. This show truly sucked. For once, I wish I never heard the drums, Fernando. I’m surprised more ABBA fans aren’t insulted by this lame musical. The story is inane, and the entire script seems to be constructed around excuses to use ABBA songs, most of which make no sense in the context of the story. I really love musical theater, and Mamma Mia is probably one of the worst musicals I have seen.
Despite their reputation as bubble-gum group, I think some of ABBA’s songs are very heart-felt and beautiful. Mamma Mia is just cheesy nostalgic crap.
Bleh. (and I even shelled out for the good seats!) At least, Sophia and I made fun of it all the way home.”
A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: the infamous Yes, I Am Wearing Women’s Panties!
Fads I ignored —
The Pet Rock
The Chia Pet
The Tamagotchi
Fads I liked —
Skinny ties
The Macarena
The “Braless” look
I know many of my female readers are eagerly waiting for Sophia to give me the final boot, so you could grab me as your own personal boy toy. Let me temper that enthusiasm with some reality. One of Sophia’s biggest complaints about me is that I can be a real nag. I have an open mind about most things, but when an action rubs me the wrong way, I get all moralistic and can’t keep my mouth shut. There are some things that I just HATE — like when someone uses an old “Handicapped Parking Card” to park more easily at the mall, or when anyone litters in public. I can go on for hours about how one napkin thrown on the ground can make a Native American stand by the freeway and cry.
I blame the New York public school system for making me into a nag. The teachers were the biggest nags on Earth. Even though “global warming” hadn’t hit it big yet, pollution was on every teacher’s agenda. They made us celebrate “Earth Day.” I don’t remember much geometry, but I do remember my social studies teacher forcing us to write to the Japanese Prime Minister to tell him to stop killing whales. Being a frequent “Citizen of the Month” at school, I ate this stuff up. I was going to change the world, even as a third grader. I scolded my mother about choosing unsafe for dolphins tuna fish. I warned my mother about the freon in the refrigerator. I still nag today about the “trans-fats” in the “low-fat” cookies she eats, which she thinks are healthy. She nags me. I nag her. That’s why we get along so well.
No one likes a nag, but nagging can be an effective tool in getting someone to change their ways (although it hasn’t been very successful with Sophia).
Maybe I need to talk about my nagging when I go to therapy. Who wants a man that nags? Why can’t I just leave people alone to make their own mistakes? I hate when people are annoying to me, asking me why I have an SUV or criticize me for my poor recycling of bottles.
When I was younger, my mother was a social smoker. She hardly smoked at all — maybe one or two cigarettes on the weekend with friends. I was so brainwashed by my anti-smoking teachers that I just nagged her into quitting. I was like Bart Simpson repeating a sentence over and over again until Homer gives in.
“Mom, you know those cigarettes can kill you? Right? Right? And if we breath it in with you, you are killing us, too. Right, right?”
I don’t think my mother touched a cigarette ever again once I got through with her.
I’m actually astounded that so many people still smoke after all these years of bad press and being ostracized by the general public. In LA, you can’t even smoke on the beach!
Every once in a while, I read about one of you smoking a cigarette, usually on the weekend in a bar. I try hard to restrain myself from lecturing you. I don’t want to come off as a humorless prig. My image is that of fun and exciting, not moralistic and dull. And after all, it is your life. But, you do realize, that the second-hand smoke goes into the blogosphere and affects us all? Right? Right?
Sarah from “Sad and Beautiful World” is almost done with her 365 Project on Flickr. She has done amazing work and you should check out her photos.
Here is a photo of Sarah and her husband Pete. How cute they are! But —
I’m not going to say anything.
(is there anyone else I need to publicly nag?)
See you all on Monday! I’m going to be doing household chores all weekend, and thinking about my future.
I hope you all had a great time reading “Citizen of the Month” this week. I enjoyed being here with you, and I loved your wonderful comments. I’m sorry I haven’t been keeping up with your blogs as frequently lately. Give me another week or so to get my head on straight. You can always send me an email and say hello!
I’d like to thank the rest of the cast — Sophia, my mother, my talking Penis, and even my late father, who still shows up every once in a while. Have a great weekend and I’ll see you all again on Monday. I’m sure next week, there will be plenty more wacky adventures, important cultural issues discussed, and even some heartfelt tears here on “Citizen of the Month.”
And now, here are this week’s closing credits:
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What makes the blogosphere so special is that we are here for each other, to share each other’s joys and pains, and to make each individual feel a little less alone.
Today’s Good Samaritan is “Nilo.” I may not know him personally, but today we have bonded in a very special way. Here is an email I just received concerning my dream of “visiting” all 50 States:
The “Get Laid in Every State” Trip
Neilochka —
You inspired me, man!
Being that I’ve been a mapper by trade, I decided to draw up a little suggested route for you, steering you as close to the more heavily populated cities in most states, and then just barely dipping you into others.
Let me know what you think…
California –  LA Area    Â
Arizona  –  Phoenix Â
Nevada  –  Las Vegas Â
Utah  –  Salt Lake City  Â
Idaho  - Pocatello, Boise Â
Oregon  –  PortlandÂ
Washington -Â Seattle, SpokaneÂ
Montana – Missoula, Butte, Bozeman Â
Wyoming - Casper  Â
Colorado -  Cheyenne  Â
New Mexico  – Albuquerque  Â
Texas  - El Paso, Abilene, Fort Worth, Dallas Â
Oklahoma  – Oklahoma City  Â
Kansas  –  Wichita, Kansas City  Â
Missouri  –  Kansas City  Â
Iowa  - Des Moines  Â
Nebraska - Omaha  Â
South Dakota - Sioux Falls  Â
North Dakota - Fargo  Â
Minnesota  -Minneapolis  Â
Wisconsin - Madison, Milwaukee  Â
Illinois -  Chicago  Â
Indiana   Indianapolis  Â
Michigan  - Ann Arbor, Detroit  Â
Ohio -  Toledo, Cleveland  Â
West Virgina - Charleston  Â
Kentucky - Lexington, Louisville  Â
Tennessee  – Nashville  Â
Arkansas - Little Rock  Â
Louisiana - Shreveport, Baton Rouge, New Orleans  Â
Mississippi - Jackson, Biloxi  Â
Alabama - Mobile,  Montgomery, Birmingham  Â
Georgia  - Atlanta, Savannah  Â
Florida -  Orlando, Daytona Beach, Jacksonville  Â
South Carolina - Columbia  Â
North Carolina –  Charlotte , Raleigh  Â
Virginia -  Richmond  Â
Washington DC  Washington  Â
Maryland  - Baltimore  Â
Pennsylvania - Philadelphia  Â
New Jersey  – Jersey City  Â
New York - New York City  Â
Connecticut - Bridgeport, Hartford  Â
Rhode Island - Providence  Â
Massachussets - Boston  Â
Maine -  Portland  Â
New Hampshire - Manchester  Â
Vermont -Â Â Burlington
~Nilo
Nil0 —
I am touched beyond words.  I hope this proves to the women of BlogHer that men care about each other!   I think your mapping skills are excellent. Have you tried applying for a job at Rand McNally? You would be great. And chicks love a man who is confident in his directions.
I will need to look over your map some more. I’m still concerned about some of the weather issues down south.  And, dude, where’s Alaska and Hawaii? Are they chopped liver?  I also have some problems with hitting Orlando and Jacksonville, and skipping South Florida? What am I going to do in Orlando — f**k Minnie Mouse?  Jacksonville over Miami Beach? Have you been to Jacksonville? Are you crazy? I have relatives in Boca Raton anyway, so I would probably do a little visiting in the middle of the “getting laid” trip.
But, all in all, this is much appreciated, man!
— Neil
(Update from Nilo — Crap. I forgot Delaware. So you go from Baltimore to Dover to Philadelphia instead.)
(This is a real email. At first I thought Nilo was a fake — “Nilo?” — but he actually has a real email address. But a mapper by trade???!)
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