Neil is asleep in bed.
Neil’s Penis: Neil, Neil, get up already.
Neil: I’m sleeping.
Neil’s Penis: Time to get up. Don’t you know what today is? It’s our birthday!
Neil: Happy birthday, Penis.
Neil’s Penis: You too, Neilochka. We’ve certainly been together a long time. I even consider you a friend.
Neil: Wow, Penis, I didn’t figure you to be the sentimental type.
Neil’s Penis: Sentimental? Bullshit. I sometimes wish I was attached to someone else. Someone who actually fucked a woman a little more often.
Neil: I love you, too.
Neil’s Penis: Aw, shit. You see right through me, don’t you? You’ll always be my best friend.
Neil: Thanks, pal.
Neil’s Penis: Just try to work with me more, like a partnership.
Neil: What do you mean?
Neil’s Penis: Are you a numskull, Neil?
Neil: You don’t have to get nasty.
Neil’s Penis: Let me see if I can explain this to you so you can understand. Imagine all you ever eat is pizza. All you want every minute of the day is pizza. And everywhere, 51% of the population is walking around with pizza. Beautiful pizzas. some with mushrooms, some with anchovies, some with green peppers. And all you can think about is all that pizza, with all that cheese and spicy tomato sauce, and the pizza dough that’s cooked to perfection. You getting it now?
Neil: Not really.
Neil’s Penis: Get me some fucking pizza!
The doorbell RINGS.
Neil’s Penis: That better be Domino’s!
Neil: Do you really want pizza?
Neil’s Penis: It’s a euphemism, moron! A euphemism for some pussy!
Neil opens the door. It is Sophia and Neil’s mother.
Neil: Mom? Sophia? What are you doing here?
Neil’s Penis: Aw, jeez, your mother is here. Talk about a mood-killer…
Sophia: We wouldn’t miss your birthday, Neilochka.
Neil’s Mother: Look at you. All grown up. A real mensch.
Sophia: And we brought you a birthday cake. It’s giant pink Hostess Sno Ball.
Neil’s Penis: Oh great. How about giving him a hostess with real giant pink Sno balls….
Neil’s Penis: Tits, you imbecile! It’s another euphemism… for a woman with a nice pair of tits that you can just…
Neil’s Mother: Neil, are you still talking to that "thing" on your blodge?
Neil’s Penis: Penis, Elaine! Penis! I have a name!
Neil’s Mother: Who’s that talking? Do I hear someone else talking?
Neil: Uh, it’s the TV. "American Idol."
Sophia: No more TV watching today. We’re taking you out for you birthday.
Neil: I’m not in a very celebratory mood.
Sophia: C’mon, it’s your birthday!
Neil: It just hasn’t been a great year. Things are still unresolved with us. I’m still looking for a good job. I just found out I may be kicked out of my apartment for illegally subletting it. And the saddest thing, of course — Dad passing away in September.
Sophia: Yeah, we all miss him.
Neil’s Mother: Especially me.
Neil: This is my first ever birthday without him around. When I moved to Los Angeles, he was always the first one to call me up — always seven in the morning LA time because he couldn’t wait any longer to sing "Happy Birthday." He always made such a big deal over my birthday.
Neil’s Mother: It certainly hasn’t been a good year for any of us.
Sophia: But you’re forgetting one good thing about this year.
Neil: What’s that?
The doorbell RINGS again. Ther are a few hundred bloggers standing outside. It’s every single blogger Neil has interacted with this year, from Akaky to Xtessa.
Sophia: It was exactly one year ago — on your birthday, that you set up your WordPress template. And you published your first post on March 8th. Here’s what you wrote:
"What’s on my mind this evening — the night of my first post? It’s the future. My future.
I see it so clearly.
I’m a very spry 100 year old man, thanks to medical advances and the ability of the medical establishment to take chances with modern patient care. Who knew that the diet supplement Trimspa would end up eradicating most illnesses from the world?
I’m in my home of the future. My grandson, Bar Code #466408736664, sits at my side, browsing the internet in eye-scan mode (using the latest upgraded Intel mini-chip in his brain — the PC having disappeared decades earlier).. Suddenly, he tells me that he’s at the Coca-Cola digi-Archives site (formerly the Library of Congress) and viewing this very first post that you are currently reading.
At that moment, I will be an old man remembering the early days of the Internet. The 56K modem. Netscape. Those AOL disks falling out of every magazine. That first illegal MP3. That first post on the blog.
"Grandpa," #466 says with a twinkle in his eye. "Man, grandpa, this post really sucks."
And just then, I realize that it isn’t a twinkle in his eye, but a reaction to one of those synthetic drugs he’s been taking at school. I laugh, remembering how I was drunk while writing that first post.
"He’d grown up just like me.
My boy was just like me.""
Neil: Wow. I did forget that.
Neil’s Mother: I think your blodge really helped you going all year. I know it helped me, except when you write about that "thing." I can do without that.
Neil’s Penis: (Robert De Niro voice) You talkin’ to me?
Neil: You know — originally I was going to wrte about movies and TV, but then I saw how Hilary wrote about her dating life. So, I started writing about Sophia. And I saw how Pauly would write every single day, so I was inspired to do the same. I was encouraged by the support of 2 Blowhards and Nick Douglas at Blogebrity, now at Valleyrag. And I began to look forward to blogging every day. Especially when I had the help of Sophia, editing me and telling me when a post was too shitty to post. And when I needed comfort, like when my father passed away, I got it not only from Sophia, but from bloggers themselves — strangers who weren’t really strangers anymore. And during this year, I’ve made some great friends.
Neil’s Penis: If you had some balls, you could have had some action, too.
Neil: And what about now?
Neil’s Penis: Now it’s too late. Six months ago, female bloggers might have slept with you . Now you’re like the gay cousin who they talk about shoes with.
Neil: Damn it. I knew I should have made the move on ****** when I had the chance.
Neil’s Mother: I think you and Sophia need to sit down, discuss things about your marriage, like two adults, and get back together.
Sophia: I think you need to stop writing about me without asking my permission first. Or if you do, at least start giving me some good lines.
Neil’s Penis: I think you need to get laid. And soon. And your best shot right now is with — Tatyana. She seems to get turned on by liberals. I think she’s married, but I think if you buy her some expensive flowers, not the cheap ones you usually get for Sophia —
Man’s Voice: I think your blog is just fine!
Everyone turns around towards the open window. It is the Spirit of Neil’s Father — Arthur Kramer himself.
Neil: Dad? You’re here!
Neil’s Father: Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss your birthday. Even if I am in heaven.
Neil: This makes me so happy. Hey, everyone. This is my father.
All the bloggers greet my father.
Neil’s Father: Taking care of my boy, Sophia?
Sophia: I promised, didn’t I?
Neil’s Father: Hello, Elaine.
Neil’s Mother: Hi, Artie.
Neil’s Father: I hear you’re going to put "Be of Good Cheer" on the stone.
Neil’s Mother: You like it?
Neil’s Father: Very much. Is it possible to have it play the theme from "Gunga Din" every time someone approaches the plot?
Neil’s Mother: That’s just ridiculous.
Neil’s Father: I think it would be funny.
Neil’s Mother: No.
Neil’s Father: Just like a woman. Even when I’m dead, I still can’t get what I want.
Neil: So, Dad, how’s it going up there?
Neil’s Father: Eh… surviving. It’s comfortable. Relaxing. Good entertainment at night. It’s a little bit like how Grossinger’s used to be in the Catskills. The food is good. But I don’t like the way they cut the corn beef. It’s too thick —
Neil: Yeah, you never liked it like that —
Neil’s Father: You’d think in heaven they can do better, but frankly Pastrami King on Queens Boulevard made a better corned beef sandwich than they do in heaven —
Sophia: So, Dad, can you explain to us how heaven works? I’ve always been curious.
Neil: Yeah, do you watch me all the time from above?
Neil’s Father: No, no, no. That’s only in the movies. But don’t worry, Neil. I follow everything about your life.
Neil’s Father: I read your blog. Everyone reads "Citizen of the Month" up here in heaven.
Neil: They do?
Neil’s Father: Oh, we love it. A few days ago, we were all laughing so hard!
Neil: You mean people in heaven really appreciate my sense of humor?
Neil’s Father: Not really. We were laughing at you because you still wear those tighty-whiteys. Even in heaven, no one would be caught dead wearing those. In heaven, we all wear boxer-briefs with microfiber material. C’mon, son, get with it! Stop embarrassing me in heaven with this mama’s boy underwear!
Thank you all for one year of great blogging.
Be of good cheer… until tomorrow…
MOM AND DAD