I am a little disappointed that I didn’t go to BlogHer.  I wish the real reason is that I felt too cool for it, like Woody Allen not going to the Oscars.   Or that the conference is really for women.  Or that all the marketing and networking is not my cup of tea.  When I sit down and think about it honestly, this is my theory:

I don’t feel emotional stable enough to deal with meeting a hundred people for the first time right now — all in one swoop.  I’d rather not meet some of you in person, then quickly chat with you for five minutes at a cocktail party before I move on to someone else.  It would just make me feel sad.

I met Caitlin and her husband, Billy, for pizza in Manhattan on Monday.  We talked for several hours, then took the subway together on our ways back home.  I really enjoyed that.

I chatted with SarcasticMom and Jane Devin last night.  I really enjoyed that. 

I dreamt about someone last night.  I really enjoyed that.

This weekend on Citizen of the Month:  Time again for the third annual BlogHim.  (BlogHim 2006, BlogHim 2007)

One aspect of blogging I enjoy is taking some random element and squeezing it until it runs dry.  Such is the case with my web-cam.  So, until I return to reality, let me continue living in a fantasy world until the weekend is over –

Ladies and Gentlemen — the last entry in the Web-cam trilogy:

Today, I chatted with Haley, a female blogger who I haven’t spoken in months.  Haley had moved across the country and had stopped blogging for awhile.

During our chat, we talked about her work and my writing.  She told me that she had been keeping up with my life through the blog.

Haley: “Why did you really buy that web-cam?”

I told her that Otir was using Seesmic (a video blogging app) and had been trying to get me to use it.

Haley: “No, really…?  We’re friends.  You can tell me.”

Neil: “That is the reason.”

The conversation continued on without any more mention of the web-cam.  I had a feeling that she didn’t believe me.

After chatting for a half hour longer, I told her that I had to go.  My mother and I were off to have dinner at the local Dominican diner.

Neil: “Take care.  Speak soon.”

Haley: “Bye!”

Neil: “xoxoxox”

I paused for a second.  That was the first time I had ever written that sign-off — xoxoxo.  I’ve seen others write it, but I’ve never seen a man do it.  It’s OK when woman says that to a man, but… I worried that I looked too forward.  I didn’t want it to seem as if I was hitting on her.  I figured it was time for some damage control wth Haley.

Neil: “That’s the first time I ever wrote xoxoxo.  I’ve seen others use it.  I’m experimenting with it.”

Haley: “LOL.”

Good, she LOL-ed.  She isn’t upset.

Haley: “xo”

xo?  I found that odd.  Why was she giving me an xo rather than the full xxxooo?

Neil: “Why just xo?”

Haley: “Huh?”

Neil: “I gave you xoxoxo, and you just said xo.  Are you mad at me?”

Haley: “No, of course not.  xo and xoxoxo mean the same thing.”

Neil: “I don’t think so.  xo is like a tiny peck on the cheek.  xoxoxox is more intimate — like we’re actually doing it.”

Haley: “Doing it?   You mean… like f**king?”

Neil: “I was just joking.”

Haley: “I don’t think you were.”

Neil: “I was joking.  I was making a literary analogy”

Haley: “I think you want to f**k me.”

Neil: “I don’t want to f**k you.  I don’t really know you.”

Haley: “Oh sure, but that wasn’t going to stop you from taking out your c**k to show me on your web-cam!”

Neil: “I was never going to do that.”

Haley: “Well, that’s because you ended up buying  a cheapo web-cam that doesn’t work.”

Neil: “The only reason I got the web-came was to debate politics with Otir on Seesmic.”

Haley: “So how many times have you shown your c**k to Otir on Seesmic?”

Neil: “She’s a married woman.  A religious woman.”

Haley: “So are you saying religious women can’t be sexy?  I believe in the Lord my Savior Jesus Christ and I’m very very sensual.”

Neil: “Really?”

Haley: “You want to see my tits on my web-cam?”

Neil: “My mother is calling.  We’re going out to the Dominican
Diner.”

Haley: “Your loss.  I have really nice tits.”

Neil: “Maybe later.  xoxoxo”

Haley: “xo”

Neil: “Hey, why just xo…?”

Yahoo Messenger:  Haley is now offline.

And she then blocked me.

Truth Quotient: 31%  (I did IM xoxoxo to Melissa from “the Daily Minute” today and she only returned a xo, Otir did ask me to try out Seesmic)

I showered.  I shaved.  I trimmed.  I combed.  I brushed.  I flossed.  I tweezed.  I washed.  I dressed, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and those new colorful new boxer briefs I bought two days ago at Target.

I waited all morning, my new web-cam at my side.  I felt ready, confident.  I had practiced the striptease earlier in front of the mirror, moondancing to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.”  And most importantly, I felt good about the terrific bargain I had gotten at Radio shack — a web-cam at 75% off.  Suddenly, her name popped up in Yahoo Messenger.  It was time! 

Now, have you ever read an O. Henry story, where there is a twist at the end?  

Consider this a tale of bad karma.   After bragging about my new web-cam for a week, when the time came to use it, I couldn’t even get it up and working! 

I plugged it into the USB slot, and NOTHING.  After a half hour of fiddling with the camera and the drivers, I found some online forum that told me this piece of Radio Shack/Web-Cam for Dummies crap was incompatible with Windows Vista!

Moral of the story:  Don’t be cheap in matters of the heart.  Or if you want to strip online with a web-cam, buy a Mac.

(Truth Quotient:  4%.   There is absolutely nothing true in this story except for buying this useless, incompatible  web-cam at Radio Shack.  No wonder why it was so cheap!)

a review of this blog from Secret Lake Diaries:

Citizen of the Month - a blog by Neil, a writer in LA, who is recovering from a breakup with his lady love.  His humorous blog is about his life and thoughts.  The really interesting thing to me in this blog is the comments section.  There is a strong, and seemingly close knit, community of readers that have a dynamic discussion in the comments section of each post. That, my friends, is where the true magic of this blog lies.  I am so envious! They are having a ball.

Awww… how nice. 

Bulls**t! 

THE REALY INTERESTING THING TO ME IN THIS BLOG IS THE COMMENTS SECTION?! 

THE TRUE MAGIC OF THE BLOG are your inane COMMENTS?!!!!

Well, screw you all. 

Conversation at BlogHer 08:

Mommyblogger1:  “Don’t you just love Dooce?”

Mommyblogger2:  “She is such an amazing writer!  She should a thousand book deals.”

Mommyblogger1:  “I just wish I had a quarter of the talent of “The Pioneer Woman.”  And those amazing contests.  Did you see that she recently offered some ipod-thingy as a prize and got 10,000 comments?”

Mommyblogger2:  “She deserves it.  Every one of them.  Her writing and photography are superb.”

Mommyblogger1:  “Have you ever read “Citizen of the Month?”"

Mommyblogger2:  “You mean the “Talking Penis” guy?  He seems very immature and he frequently says “there” instead of “their.”  It is lazy writing.   Been like this ever since Sophia stopped editing his posts  I think “she” was the brains behind the whole operation.”

Mommyblogger1:  “Forget his uneven posts.  And I heard his penis isn’t all it is cracked up to be.  Just a little gossip from someone who had an “video-cam” conversation with him.  Besides, no one goes to his blog to READ the posts.  Ha ha, that would be silly.  He’s just writes the same things over and over again.  Jews, Sophia, his mother, and tits.  If you see him anywhere here at BlogHer, I say run the other way. ”

Mommyblogger2:  “So why do people go to his blog?”

Mommyblogger1:  “Don’t you get it?  THE REALY INTERESTING THING TO ME IN HIS BLOG IS THE COMMENTS SECTION!”

I’ve seen other bloggers coming up with gimmicks to get you offline, such as “Don’t Blog Day” and other nonsense.  The point of these special days is to make you go outside and smell the fresh air, maybe even do something “green,” like get you to water a tree.

This post is not about the environment.  Let someone else write about that.  Go outside and spray pesticides if you want.  I’m not concerned about the health of our planet right now as much as I am about the mental health of those on the blogosphere. 

Including myself. 

I first wrote about this “Internet Smog Check” a month ago.  I had just brought in my car for the yearly test, as is required in California.  I wondered if I should also test myself once a year — making sure that the internet wasn’t turning me into a crazy person?  I wanted to prove to myself that all this virtual “smog” from this online world wasn’t affecting my brain, and my soul.   Sure, I had fallen in love with 28 different women in a six month’s period, and had taken photos of myself bare-chested, parading around in the bathroom, desperately crying for attention.  But, it could have been worse.  I have never ONCE sent anyone a photo of my private parts.  I didn’t embarrass my family… too much.  I’d engaged in pleasant, but nonsensical, conversations with people of all races and religions without ever resorting to ethnic slurs like “Whitey,” “China Doll” or “Yarmulke Head.” 

Clearly, I am normal.

But shouldn’t I test myself at least once a year to make sure I don’t have a small addiction to the internet?  I thought about this for a day or two, and then dropped the idea completely.

On Sunday, I was in Manhattan, walking around aimlessly, window-shopping.  I had an appointment with some friends later that afternoon.  At a certain point, I stopped in at some ritzy coffee bar on Lexington Avenue.  As I was drinking my coffee, I watched as some Hunter College student was reading her Gmail on her Macbook.  I could feel the energy and jealousy build up in my body.

“I want to check my email!” I screamed to myself.

My mind drifted to a state of worry and yearning. 

“I wonder if anyone wrote me an email today?  I wonder how many people wrote comments on my blog?  I wonder if one of the comments is stuck in the spam block and the blogger is going to be pissed at me, thinking I erased it?”

Sadly, I am too cheap right now to own a blackberry.  I use my phone… as a phone.  So I had no access to the internet like some of you junkies who walk around checking your email every five seconds.

After my cup of coffee, I kept on walking, still thinking about the virtual life that was going on in my parallel universe — this online world that was suddenly more real and exciting to me than walking around Manhattan.  Sure the girls looked very pretty as they left the Guggenheim Museum, but not ONE of them took off her bra and threw it at me!  Don’t these girls know who I am?!  Don’t they read any blogs?!  Women online are so much more… uh, EASY…

I hoped that I would stumble upon an “Internet Cafe.”  Did they still exist?   Here I was in the middle of NYC — a city with thousands of things to do — and my mind was pondering what Schmutzie wrote on her blog today.  That’s right — some blogger from Saskatchewan!  F**king Saskatchewan.  That place would not even make a dot on that “New York” map/view of the world.  If I had asked a passing New Yorker to tell me about Saskatchewan, one would answer –

“Isn’t that the bridge that goes to Jersey?”

My mind drifted further –

“I wonder if Finn is on Facebook chat.  I wonder what Mr. Lady is bitching about on Twitter.” 

I walked past a Kinko’s/Fed Ex/whatever it is called now.  Bingo!  They had a “business center” where you can pay six dollars every ten seconds to go online on one of their germ-covered PCs.

So, I did.   The Kinko’s PC quickly grabbed my VISA card.   I then promptly spent the financial equivalent of a decent lunch on the Upper East Side to spend ten minutes on the Citizen of the Month administration page and delete three spams about “sex nostradamus sexy video.”

It was then that I accepted my internet addiction. 

I asked my, “Could I go offline for 24 hours without jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge?” 

I answered, “I’m not sure!”

I tried a test run on Twitter yesterday, and let me tell you — it was hard.  I rushed back online as soon as I could, and blabbed to everyone how superior I was to their addicted, flabby asses.  That was, until some hotshot noticed from my profile that I had only left Twitter for 23 hours!  Jerk.

The uber-talented Secret Agent Josephine made these badges.  Normally, bloggers want the masses to use their “badges” because of the link love.  I am a bit of an idiot who forgets about these rules, because I am going to make it SO difficult for ANY OF YOU to get one of these badges.  In fact, I bet only 1% of those reading this right now will ever be allowed to have one.

In order to get one of these beautiful badges, you must stay OFFLINE for a full day — from when you wake up in the morning to the next morning 24 hours later.  No email.  No blogging.  No Google.  If you need the internet for work, tough.  If you go online to check your bank statement, you screwed up.  It is that hard.  No pussies allowed.

If you don’t want to put up the badge, no problem. 

How do you get a badge?  You email me, telling me exactly what you did all day, proving to me that you did not go online ONCE during that 24 hour period. 

Only then can you announce to the rest of the blogosphere that you are not a addict who needs help.

And believe me, most of you NEED help.

Now, excuse me while I catch up with your blogs on my feed reader.  You are my crack.

Update:  Read this:  Would you quit interacting on the internet for ten million dollars?

Author Tom Wolfe

It shouldn’t surprise you that I spend so much time online.  I can make myself seem interesting just by using the written word, and before you know it, women are throwing me their virtual bras at me.

In the real world, very few people on line at McDonald’s want to hear me read my latest blog post to them.  Believe me, I’ve tried.  I even tried giving away free Happy Meals.  Not one woman takes off her bra.

I fit into this online world.  A clever line is worth a lot.   It is the online equivalent of driving a Ferrari into the valet stand at a Beverly Hills bistro.  And online, you don’t even have to tip.

As much as web designers tell you about the importance of “blog design,” none of us read a blog because of the looks.  We would read a good blog published on a plain white page.

I like this word-based system.  I have fun conversations with men and women of all races and ages, from twenty-something to seventy.  Even when I see your photo on flickr, I rarely think about you in physical terms.  Your words come first.  If you write sexy, you come off as sexy.  I mean, I’m not going to lie.  I do notice what people look like.  Some of you are so gorgeous!  I just don’t think about it that much or treat anyone better because of it.   I’m mean - great - you have amazing boobs — but I’m not going to be touching them, so what’s the point?  I’m going to spend more time hanging with the regular-looking gal who turns me on with her jokes.  I’m more likely to describe you as “that mommyblogger” or “that bitch from Wisconsin” rather than “skinny” or “fat” or “Latino”

Unfortunately, things change in the real world.   You are not going to be as impressed with me when you see me wearing two different socks and I forgot to zip my fly.  I’m not even going to bring up the half-shaven off chest hair.  The first thing we notice when meeting someone is how the person looks.  Before they even open their mouth, we’ve created a whole history for this person. 

After posting about the Nehru jacket, I spent a while reading “The Sartorialist.”  I found the comments fascinating.  Some entries had a hundred comments, each commenter “reading” the photo, infusing the subject with life and meaning.   Commenters seemed to “understand” the people in the photos from what they looked like, especially from what  the clothes “say.”   Readers discuss the personal lives of these online subjects — their inner confidence, their life history, and even their moral character.  All from one photo!  I was half-hoping that someone would write in that they had played a joke — and dressed up a homeless woman as a chic woman in Brooklyn.  Someone even wrote that they want to be “best friends” with a young female subject wearing a green blouse.  For the most part, the subjects are young, good-looking model types.  Don’t ugly people ever dress in interesting clothes?  Or are they too afraid of standing out?  I think I can understand that.  I’ve spent most of my life wearing clothes that would make me fit in.

I did find one older woman in one of the photos.  Everyone loved her.  They wanted her to be their grandmother.   Check out the comments.  I showed the photo to my mother.  Even my mother fell in love with her natural “style” and the fact that she kept her gray hair.  I have a feeling that this woman could probably have been both Clinton and Obama just by appearing in this photo!

(via The Sartorialist)

Call me Scrooge, but I was wondering if this was a nice woman.   How do we know she’s not an asshole?  Because of her clothes? 

Why bother getting a Master’s degree when you can better spend your money buying some interesting clothes?   Or does the Master’s degree enable you to AFFORD these clothes?  

Of course, I picked the wrong Master’s degree.

I don’t spend too much time thinking about my blog design because YOU don’t seem to judge me on it.  Would you like me to have a flashier, Dooce-like blog design?  Would that make my blog seem classier? 

In the real world, it is clear that you ARE judged by what you wear.  People make incredible assumptions about a person’s character and position in society.

It makes me think, that as a writer, I should spend more attention to what my characters wear.  I should also spend more attention to what I wear, especially here in New York.  I might actually have to think about matching my socks.

Question:  Make believe that you meet me for the first time.  You don’t know me at all.  You’ve never read my blog.  I am wearing a Nehru jacket.  Do you “read” anything into this?

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  Things Every Man Should Do Before He Dies — #6 Buy a Drink for a Woman in a Bar

Still in my quest to write realistic “female” dialogue, I experimented with this exchange between two female bloggers. I think the dialogue sounds authentic, which is important, especially with Sex and the City being successful at the box office.  As a screenwriter, I need to know how “real” women speak.

Jenny and Sarah, both hip, attractive, thirty-somethings, are sitting in a Soho cafe.  Jenny has her laptop open and is reading something, totally absorbed.  

Jenny:  “My god.  Have you seen Neil’s new post?”

Sarah:  “Not yet.”

Jenny:  “You need to look at this.  Now.”

Jenny excitedly turns the laptop around.  The page is on “Citizen of the Month.”   Sarah is mesmerized.

Sarah: ”Is that him… without his shirt on?!

Jenny:  “Yes.”

Sarah: ”Hawt!  Remember I told you that I was having dreams about giving him oral sex in my kitchen.”

Jenny:  “I know. I have that same dream every night myself.”

Sarah:  “Now, I want to DO him in every room of the house.”

Jenny:  “I hear you, Sarah. I think I just wet myself imagining what I could do with excellent piece of manliness.”

Sarah: ”Oh, Jenny, you’re making me hungry. And not for this Chinese Chicken Salad with low-fat dressing that I ordered. For a Neilochka sandwich.”

Jenny:  “I bet you he’s not wearing pants in that photo.”

Sarah: ”Of course he’s not. And I bet you his… his… thing… is as hard as Teddy Roosevelt’s mustache on Mount Rushmore.”

Jenny:  “We’re never going to know.  He cut the photo off at the waist.  He’s so f**king mysterious. And dangerous.”

Sarah: ”Hold on… uh, I just had an orgasm.  And it’s not even twelve-thirty in the afternoon.”

Jenny:  “Maybe he IS wearing pants in that photo. I’m imagining some nice Dockers khakis, tapered just right. It would look so good on him with a nice white button down shirt, and slightly shorter haircut. Maybe Whoorl could help him.”

Sarah: ”You could be right about him wearing pants. if he was aroused in this photo, you would see it.”

Jenny:  “Amy from Momirific said  it was three feet long.”

Sarah: ”I thought that was an urban myth, but apparently Snopes said it was true.”

Jenny: ”But who are we fooling,  We’re never going experience the intense pleasure of a meaningless one-night stand with this co-dependent neurotic Jewish guy?”

Sarah:  “That’s not true. He’s travelling to New York on Monday. Both Neil AND his Penis. They’re sitting in coach together. Now’s our chance.”

Jenny: ”Really?  Even to have three minutes of uncomfortable sex between the subway cars of the E train would be more exciting than winning ten million dollars in the Powerball lottery.”

Jenny:  “He’ll be staying at his mother’s home. Just call him at 718-546-xxxx, and make the arrangement. Or you can leave a message with his mother at 212-723-xxxx. Just say that you are one of Neil’s blog readers and you’re interested in %$#@&*% him repeatedly while she is cruising in Alaska, or at least until he runs out of the pot roast that she is going to leave him in the freezer, wrapped in aluminum foil.”

Sarah: ”But what about his wife, Sophia? Aren’t they still married?”

Jenny:  “Well, technically they are. But get this… she has given him PERMISSION to SLEEP AROUND!”

Sarah: ”That’s surprising. What exactly did she say?”

Jenny:  “She said, “Neil, anyone who would sleep with you now is [REDACTED because it might put Sophia in a bad light, insulting the intelligence of some lucky female blogger].”"

Sarah: ”Woo-hoo! If it’s Ok with her… then I gotta go start shaving my legs and pubes.”

Jenny:  “Forget it. Relax. When Neil takes off his glasses, he can hardly see anything in front of him. He’ll just think your pubes are your eyebrows.”

Sarah:  “Perfect. I love men in glasses. One day, I hope to f*ck a completely blind guy. I won”t even have to put on makeup!”

via Publishers Weekly:  In the tradition of the tell-all, screw the loyalty, backstabbing, I wanna write a book and tell the truth now that I have a book deal, even though I was too wimpy to do so when I was there sucking up to the Man, tradition of “What Happened — Inside the Bush White House and Washington’s Culture of Deception,” by Bush spokesperson Scott McClellan, “Behind the Oval Office” by Clinton aide/prostitute-lover Dick Morris, and countless other memoirs by bloggers lucky enough to obtain impossible-to-get glamour jobs in law, publishing, and the entertainment fields, who then turn around and betray the trust of their former bosses and co-workers, comes Neil Kramer’s new book, “Behind the Blogosphere:  What Other Bloggers Really Tell Me.” 

In his three years of blogging, Mr. Kramer, or “Neilochka from Redondo Beach” as he was known online, kept backup copies of every IM conversation, Twitter, email, and blog comment he was ever involved in — right on his computer in his office in Chicago, discussing the intimate details of the lives of his “blogging friends.”

“I carefully created this “Neilochka” personality,” said Mr. Kramer, “using the the Britten-Margolis Personality Quadrant, making sure that this character seemed open, friendly, and sensitive to the needs of others, especially to that of women.  In fact, one of my first posts was about “Neilochka” vehemently insisting that women who are size 14-16 were just as sexy to me as the truly attractive women who are size 0.  And my readers believed it!   Combined with other little details, like an unstable marriage where my wife was completely at fault, humorous jokes stolen from obscure Japanese comedies, and hints that I was pretty well-endowed, was enough to get women to tell me anything!”

And tell me they did.  In complete confidence, they talked to Neilochka, thinking him safe, like the gay friend in a chick-lit novel.  After three years of blogging, he KNOWS everything. 

And now YOU will too.  In Neil Kramer’s new book, “Behind the Blogosphere:  What Other Bloggers Really Tell Me,” the author takes no prisoners.  Nothing is off-limits. 

Some highlights:

• Which bloggers don’t look like their photos AT ALL because they always use a high angle to hide the double chin?
• Who are the blogging perverts, sending “Neilochka” photos of their bras — and worse? (including some men!)
• What anti-depressant each blogger is taking, and who has completely lost their libido because of it?
• What “really” goes on behind the closed doors of Room 1243 at the Westin St. Francis Hotel during BlogHer?
• Who is the quiet, shy “cat blogger” in Toronto who has slept with every male blogger east of the Mississippi, and has made sculptures of their privates which she sells on a secret Etsy site?
• Which female blogger never has anything to wear for her high-profile job as a social media specialist because her “wonderful” husband insists on wearing her clothes around the house, stretching the fabric?
• Which mommyblogger actually thinks her new baby is “sort of ugly?”
• Which “Momocrat” is really voting for McCain and thinks her other friends are “liberal pussies” who hate America?
• Which “good friend” of Dooce said “her favorite blog is “Citizen of the Month,” but Heather “Dooce” is so insecure she would never say so publicly in fear of losing her own “standing?”

And so much more.

Soon, at a bookstore near you.

Remember:  Tomorrow is “Write Like the Opposite Sex Day.”  If you so choose, write your post as the opposite sex and then tell me about it in the comments.  I’ll put up a link.  Hell, I’ll even give you until the weekend.

And if you comment on my blog tomorrow, make sure you do so as the opposite sex.

Note written an hour later after emailing with Jane:  OK - forget this post!  Write Like the Opposite Sex Day will go on like I said in the last post.  But I’ll keep this post up anyway just so you can see how neurotic I am, and how quick I am to change ideas when I hear criticism, although she was completely right on.   But who cares!   Gotta have balls, like a male writer, and stick to my guns!

Jane made an interesting comment on my last post.  I decided to quote it as a separate post. 

Not meaning to critique your idea, my dear Neil, but stereotypical behaviors and expressions are probably not that involved, outside of some comedy, in the true-to-life expressions of most modern male and female characters. . .they just perpetuate the stereotypes. 

Maybe for your next contest, you could consider blind entries — people writing  characters — and then guessing whether the author is male or female.  That would go above stereotyped expressions into who really might understand the opposite sex more.

(Please don’t hate me.  I adore you!  [she said that, not me])

Perhaps she has a point.  If a writer tries to ”write” like the opposite sex, won’t the results be characters who are stereotypes?  Sure, it may be funny, but it won’t help us understand the other sex any better, or create strong characters.  After all, not all women think about shoes all the time, like the gals on “Sex and the City.” 

I’m a man, right?  I don’t watch football.  I rarely drink beer.  I watch “All My Children?”  How do I fit in?  I worry that if we try too hard to write like the opposite sex, the results will suck.

If I am going to write like “a woman,” maybe I should avoid thinking of her – first and foremost — as a woman.  She is a human being.   A mother in North Carolina might have more in common with a male Eskimo than another mother down the block.  Maybe the mother and the Eskimo both have phobias about snakes, or both had a controlling father!   I can delve into a female’s character motivation and emotional state without even thinking about her gender.  Wouldn’t this be the best way to make a female character three-dimensional?

When I talk to you on IM, I don’t say to myself “this is a woman.”  OK, sometimes when I look at your photos on Flickr I do, but that’s for another reason.   And it usually sounds like “This IS a WOMAN!” and my mouth is hanging open.  You are a person first, a person with neurotic character flaws — before you are a woman.    Some of you like to cook and some of you play roller derby.  Some of you do both.  And what’s wrong with me watching “All My Children?!”  And most of these external things are just the surface of the real person.

Of course, there are some stereotypes that exist because they are true.  Men and women act differently.  Our brains are different.  And there are differing social constraints.  But real character is internal…. what goes on in the brain.   Honestly — I have this strange feeling that some of you nice mommybloggers who write about knitting and cooking, are way more kinky and perverse in your minds, than any of us guys talking about our “dicks” all the time.

So, what do you think?  Should I continue my contest the same way I outlined it earlier?  Or will we just get stereotyped nonsense without stretching our writing skills?  Or should I change it to Jane’s idea? — you send me a paragraph of something you wrote as yourself, and then something written “as” the opposite sex.  Anything you want.  I will post them without revealing the author’s name.  Others will then vote on each piece — was it written by a man or a woman.   It would be like in the old “To Tell the Truth” game show:  “Will the real man or woman please stand up?”  Later on, I will reveal who wrote each paragraph, with a link to your blog.  The one who fools the most people wins!

I’m all about destroying gender stereotypes!  Would Jane’s idea be a better way of doing this?  What do you think?

And yes, Tootsie DVD will still be given to the winner.

Are your readers complaining that you never respond to their comments, or spreading mean-spirited rumors that you only email those female bloggers who can be seen on Flickr wearing tank-tops or extremely tight t-shirts that read “Fussy:  writing well is the best revenge?”  This plugin is for you.

Imaginary Wordpress Plugin:  Automatic Comment Respond-o-Meter

Overview

This Wordpress plugin allows you to respond to your commenters automatically, bringing a human “touch” to your blog and making your readers feel as if the blog administrator really cares about their opinion rather than just their “hits”.  Social media strategists and probloggers all agree that taking the time to “service” your reader will help you monetize your online property and increase you page views. 

Automatic Comment Respond-o-Meter has 350 unique responses to every type of comment.  Most responses are general enough that after publishing your blog, you can just go off to see a movie, and let the plug-in do all the work.  Your readers won’t know a thing.

The 350 responses have been scientifically picked to be as broad, but as positive-oriented as possible, delivered randomly.

The blogger “response” will show up several minutes after the initial comment, at varying times, so it appears to the average reader to be written by a busy, but lovable human being, and not the plug-in bot.  Gender set-up is done on the administrative page, as well as the level of “snark” that you want exhibited in your personal response.

This plugin requires a basic knowledge of HTML to modify your comment form.

Example of Use

comment:  I loved this post.  And it is so true what you say about American Idol.  I’ll be glued to the screen tonight!

automatic response after three minutes:  Thank you for that great comment.  You are the best!

Other popular responses include:

“How true!”

“Have you seen the Wikipedia article on this subject?  Fascinating!”

“Now I know why I chose you as my blog crush.”

“Can’t wait to see you at BlogHer!”

“LMAO.”

“I hate you.  Only joking!  I’m just jealous of how talented you are.”

“Dooce couldn’t have said it better.”

“That comment totally turned me on, baby.”

and the always useful, “Yes!!!”

Installation

Download the Automatic Comment Respond-o-Meter Plugin version 1.1 Beta
(For Imaginary Wordpress 2.5+)   Coming soon!

To install, unzip the files into your /wp- content/plugins/ folder. Then activate it under the Plugin menu in your Wordpress admin.

If you want to modify the theme, it is extremely easy to do.  Simply make all the necessary changes to the following:

<ol class=”commentresponse”>

<?php foreach ($comments as $comment) : ?>

<li <?php echo $oddcomment; ?>id=”comment-<?php comment_ID() ?>”>
<?php echo get_avatar( $comment, 32 ); ?>
<cite><?php comment_author_link() ?></cite> Says:
<?php if ($comment->comment_approved == ‘0′) : ?>
<em>Your comment is awaiting moderation.</em>
<?php endif; ?>
<br />

<small class=”commentmetadataresponse”><a href=”#comment-<?php comment_ID() ?>” title=””><?php comment_date(’F jS, Y’) ?> at <?php comment_time() ?></a> <?php edit_comment_link(’edit’,’ ‘,”); ?></small>

</li>

<?php
/* Changes every other comment to a different class */
$oddcomment = ( empty( $oddcommentresponse ) ) ? ‘class=”alt” ‘ : ”;
?>

<?php endforeach; /* end for each comment */ ?>

</ol>