the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Month: August 2006 (Page 1 of 3)

Battle of the Races


For the first portion of the 13th edition of “Survivor,” which premieres Sept. 14, the contestants competing for the $1-million prize while stranded on the Cook Islands in the South Pacific will be divided into four teams — blacks, Asians, Latinos and whites.

It was announced today that General Motors has ended its sponsorship of CBS’s hit series “Survivor.” Some are wondering if this has anything to do with Survivor’s decision this year to divide the contestants by race and ethnicity, rather than the usual cheap gimmicks of gender and age.

Honestly, do these divisions even matter to the show, considering how the producers always seem to “keep around” the young girls in the bikinis for as long as possible, while kicking the old, demographically-wrong broads off as fast as the next promo break?

GM says the new gimmick has nothing to do with their decision to leave the show. Others continue speaking out about the show’s lack of good taste. For instance, a group of New York City officials has criticized the new format, saying it promotes divisiveness. They have asked CBS to reconsider its plans.

“How could anybody be so desperate for ratings?” City Councilman John Liu asked last week.

Show creator Mark Burnett pooh-poohs the criticism.

“By putting people in tribes, they clearly have to get rid of people of their own ethnicity,” Burnett, who also created NBC hit “The Apprentice”, told a group of reporters on Tuesday, Variety reports. “So it’s not racial at all.”

The big question is — will this be a fascinating sociological study or does this mean that Survivor, after 12 seasons on the air, has finally “jumped the shark.”

But excitement for the show runs big on the Vegas strip, as the professional gambling community debates the odds of which ethnic group will win.

“I put my money on the Asians” said Murray “The Greek” Solipikis. “They are smart and wise, like Mr. Miyagi.”

The following are the current odds, according to Las Vegas Reality Show Oddsmaker (LVRSO). (as always, remember to gamble responsibly!



  • Good in athletics
  • Have “street smarts”
  • Can use “rapping” as a secret code between tribe members
  • Tribal Camp will have the best music
  • Can bring out “race card” if too many tribal members are eliminated


  • Men cannot swim
  • Wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a “Survivor bandana”
  • Can’t understand why “crazy white folk” ENJOY camping outside
  • “Eat bugs — are you out of your motherf***ing mind?!”




  • Others will be afraid that they might know “martial arts”
  • Math geeks will be good at solving “puzzle challenge”
  • Can make anything taste good by stir-frying it in a wok
  • Have actually eaten bugs as a delicacy
  • Japanese women thin enough to slide under obstacle courses
  • Asian cultural “group dynamics”


  • Too polite, let others go first
  • Mediocre at sports
  • Can build a microprocessor, but cannot set up a tent
  • Infighting between Japanese and Koreans
  • Sleepless nights as Japanese men rub against women while reading “Manga” pornographic comic books




  • Espanol has the best curses!
  • Women have nice big asses so fat deposits will help them survive longer
  • Men learned effective team management in Latin gangs such as 18th Street, MS13, and Pacatrece
  • When food gets low, have no problem sneaking into other camps as “illegal immigrant” tribesmembers
  • Women can distract men of other tribes by shaking “Shakira-style” during competitions


  • Have never actually watched this dumb show — Jeff who?
  • Churros not included in “food competition”
  • It is difficult to dance salsa in the dirt
  • No siestas allowed during the game
  • Can actually make MORE than a million dollars by selling vegetables on the freeway




  • Stupid enough to enjoy camping and “proving” oneself by eating live bugs
  • The network wants them to win
  • Were the only competitors invited over to Jeff Probst’s home for dinner
  • Have actually watched all previous 12 seasons of Survivor because that is what “white people” do on Thursday night


  • Zero street smarts
  • Boring as hell
  • Women anorexic before the game even begins
  • They take the game WAY too seriously


Which group are you rooting for?

(note:  thank you, Laurie, the phattest Southern belle knitting blogger in LA, for telling me that I was totally off-base with previously using the Crips and Bloods as Latino gangs. I am SO WHITE!)

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: Dude Thinks Like a Lady

Mommy Bloggest


Sophia is always bugging me about putting advertising on my blog.  She is under the impression that because “Citizen of the Month” is the third most read blog in Redondo Beach we could make a living off of you suckers, or “monetize” the blog, as they say at conferences like BlogHer.

“Look at this blog,” Sophia says, pointing at some popular blog on my blogroll.  “She puts a cute little button on the side that says, “Click here!  I need to eat!.”  And guess what – she’s really using the blog to pay for her husband’s new BMW.”

I have no problem with people making money off of their blogs.   But I ain’t stupid.  I know my place in the blogosphere.   I don’t have the right demographic to get myself that BMW.  In fact, this is a typical offer — something I got in my email today:


Our impressions of are very good, that’s why we would like to offer you the opportunity of becoming a link partner with us. The process is extremely simple and incredibly beneficial to the both of us. What we would be interested in doing is in offering you a link to Horny Matches dot com….

Horny Matches dot com!  That’s my demographic.

Jeez, how horny do you have to be to use Horny Matches dot com?  Aren’t the people on horny enough for you? 

What’s the next step  — IfIdon’

These are the type of advertisers interested in Citizen of the Month.  The sad part is that their research is correct.  After meeting a few of you in person, you ARE the types who would click through the ads to Horny Matches dot com.

But that’s not enough advertising dollars for me and my high-living lifestyle.  If I’m going for the money, I want to be a big gun, a big macher — a blogger who gets all the attention.  Which means one thing.   From this day forward, I am a Mommyblogger.   “Citizen of the Month” will now be called “Mommy of the Month.”

Let me introduce you to the “cast of characters.” 

That photo on top is my son, Justin, when he was younger.  He’s now eleven years old.  

My husband is Josh.   He’s a stockbroker with a medium-sized firm in Redondo Beach. 

And my name is… Trish.  

I love blogging, Jane Austen, “The Office,” and scrapbooking.  I’m pretty, but not that much of a beauty to make other female bloggers jealous of me.  The biggest inspiration in my life, besides my great aunt Tilly, who was born without ears but still managed to become the conductor of the Tulsa Symphony Orchestra, is Dooce.

Some criticize us Mommybloggers.  

“How much can be said about being a mother?  It’s not like it’s a new experience.  My mother raised me OK — and she didn’t even have a blog.”

I disagree.  Every mother is different.  I can honestly say I would not be here today if it weren’t for my mother. 

Welcome to my first Mommyblogger post:

Mommy of the Month

by Trish Lansky-Kramer

“Welcome World!”

Today I went to Kohl’s to buy school clothes for Justin. I can’t believe how many fashion choices children have today!  Were there so many choices when we were kids?  I don’t think so! 

(And thank you Alice for car-pooling!  You all should read Alice’s blog, Mommy Unleashed.  She is so funny when she talks about her “little rugrats!”)

While at Kohl’s all Justin could talk about was buying these “must have” Nikes.  I told him they were too expensive.   He started throwing a tantrum.   All I think was, “When is school going to start already??!!!”  Am I a bad mother to think that way?  Send me a private email and tell me the truth!

Later that evening, Josh had a little “man to man” talk with Justin about the Nikes.  Josh  explained that  we needed to save money for our trip to see Nana and to go to Disneyworld.  I’m so glad I married Josh.  He is such a good father.  Thank you all for saying such nice things about him in the comments of the last post.  We finally resolved the “toilet seat” issue.

Yesterday was Tuesday night — and you know what that means –GIRLS NIGHT OUT. 

I just love Melissa’s new book club!   There’s no better combination than good friends, good books, and Ellie’s munchlicious raisin cookies!   For our next book, Alicia recommended Jennifer Weiner (again!), but Margaret suggested we try reading something more ethnic for a change, like a writer who is African-American or Asian.   I think it might be fun!  I know I love Asian babies.  They really are the cutest.

It’s been really hot in Redondo Beach the last few days, so I wasn’t surprised when Daphne decided to take off her blouse.  I hadn’t taken another bite of my raisin cookie when I noticed that Daphne also took off her bra.  She has such a wonder body.  I’m so jealous.  I really need to go back to Curves (yeah, like I have the time!) 

With Daphne looking so comfortable going topless, we all followed her lead.    Patty and Beth rolled onto the carpet and started making out.  Soon, we were all naked, having a lesbian orgy —

Neil:  “Hold on, hold on, what’s going on here!  Who’s sabotaging this story?”

Neil’s Penis:  “Who do you think, asshole?  You think I’m going to let you be a Mommyblogger and cut me out of the blog completely?” 

Neil:  “Hey, I was still going to share the advertising revenue with you.”

Neil’s Penis:  “And what about residuals?”

Neil:  “Well…”

Neil’s Penis:    “Do you really think I participate in this blog JUST for the money?  I like being in the posts.”

Neil:  “You do?”

Neil’s Penis:  “Sure.  I have a bit of the actor’s bug in me.  The rise and fall of dramantic action.  And there’s certainly no role for me anymore if  you’re Trish, the Mommyblogger.”

Neil:  “We could always make you Josh’s Penis.”

Neil’s Penis:  “I don’t take any f***ing secondary roles!”

Neil:  “Well, I’m sorry, but Sophia thinks advertising…”

Neil’s Penis:  “Sophia… Sophia…  I’ve never seen a man so p***y-whipped!.  If she thinks this blog is about making money, she doesn’t know crap.  Am I the only one with integrity around here?”

Neil:  “So why are we doing this blog?”

Neil’s Penis:  “Neilochka, open your eyes, you four-eyed nincompoop.  If I were running this show, I would have shtupped half of your blogroll already, including those Mommybloggers!”

Neil:  “Even Dooce?”

Neil’s Penis:  “No.  Be serious, pal.  She’s out of your league.”

Neil rushes to the window and screams out towards the East Coast.

Neil:  “Sophia, please!  Come back!   This blog is disintegrating into total nonsense without you here!”

Sophia Countdown:  Five More Weeks





(artwork from Almost Naked Animals)

(While I wrote this blog tonight, Sophia went to some fancy “wine and cheese” class at the Culinary Institute in NYC and sat next to the “food guy” from “Queer Eye.”)  

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  I Wanna Be Taken Seriously

The Negative Effect of my Vons Club Card on my Sex Life


I lied to you on my last blog post — the one about that Forbes article, “Don’t Marry Career Women.”  I made it sound as if I’m a super-cool feminist guy, the type of evolved man who doesn’t mind one bit that Sophia “wears the pants in the family.” 

I lied.  I wanted you to like me.  I wanted you to respect me.  I wanted you to say, “Neilochka is so much more of a feminist than macho bloggers like PaulyD and Kapgar.  I’m only going to read his blog from now on.”

The truth is, yes — I do get insecure.  There is a lot to be insecure about with Sophia.  She makes more money than I do.  She is smarter than I am.  She has a better sense of humor than me.  She can easily beat me in Ms. Pac-Man.  And she looks better in her underwear than I do.

But these items are not what really bother me.  I’m cool with her inherent superiority.   They don’t make me feel any “less” of a man.  My Achilles heel, if we can call it that, revolves around something else entirely — the use of my Vons Club Card in the supermarket.

Let me give you some history:

As an innocent young boy in Queens, New York, I remember the supermarket as an unpleasant place, a world of chaos and anger.  The aisles were too small and customers were always smacking their shopping carts into each other — sometimes on purpose, as if we were in the middle of some sadistic urban demolition derby where people actually enjoyed seeing boxes of Cheerios flying onto the filthy supermarket floor.  Many New Yorkers did not have cars, so this is where all aggression was released.  They had “shopping cart rage.”  Back in the old days, no one ever said, “excuse me.”  If your cart was in the way, someone would rudely push it aside.  It was a Hobbesian world of shopper eat shopper.  No employee would ever help you.  Once, an old woman died on Aisle Seven of my local Waldbaum’s and the employees closed the store later, just leaving her there.  The underpaid checkout girls hated their jobs and never let you forget it.

When I moved to California, I was not impressed with the weather or the girls in bikinis.  I had already seen that in the movies.  What shocked me were the supermarkets. 

They were enormous.  They were clean.  Three shopping carts could fit side by side in each aisle.  Kids happily sat and played in their shopping carts while their mommies bought dinner.  Some of these carts were bigger than the playpen I used to have as a child. 

Customers were kind to each other.  They actually went to the “Ten and Under Checkout line” with the ACTUAL correct number of items!  They didn’t argue, like Mary Riccio’s mother used to do – that milk, eggs, yogurt, and ice cream was just one item — “dairy product.” 

Life was like a dream in a California supermarket.  Music by “Air Supply” was piped in on the loudspeakers.  Some supermarkets were so large, you could also buy pots, pans, concert tickets, and even Samsonite luggage right there!

And the employees were always so polite.  Where did they find these people?  They acted less as if they had a low-paying job and more like they just won the lottery.

“Hi there, sir, can help you find the best fresh vegetables?”

“Are you looking for something that I could help you with?”

“Have you see our sale on Bounty paper towels?”

“Do you need any help carrying out that 1/2 pound bag of raisins?”

Now I knew why all these illegal immigrants were moving to California.  For the supermarkets!  

California supermarkets were like heaven to me — until Sophia signed up for a Vons Club Card.

Even though Sophia and I are legally married, Sophia decided to keep her last name –Lansky (what a typical career women!).    She wanted to remain Sophia Lansky, not become Sophia Kramer.  At first, it didn’t bother me a whole lot. 

But then was the turning point.  

One day, as I left my local Vons Supermarket, having just used our “joint” Vons Club Card, the overbearingly-friendly salesgirl shouted out joyfully, “You saved $10.55 today… MR. LANSKY!”

Ugh.  What a strike to the male ego!  And it didn’t happen just once.  Every time I left the store, having used my Vons Club Card, it was the same —

…Mr. Lansky…  Mr. Lansky… Mr. Lansky…! 

But did I ever scream?  Did I ever say, “I’m goddamn Mr. Kramer, not goddamn Mr. Lansky — you stupid Stepford checkout girl!?”   No.  I kept it bottled up inside. 

I thought of not using the Vons Club Card at all  — but I would feel like an asshole for paying an extra $10.55.  It was a lose-lose situation.

The stress affected me physically.  The symptoms started small.  I began losing interest in sex after shopping at the supermarket.  It didn’t matter if it was for bananas or milk.  Just walking into Vons was a blow to my male ego.   The “Mr. Lansky” line would be pounding in my brain over and over.  What type of wimpy man is known by his wife’s name?

Mr. Lansky… Mr. Lansky… Mr. Lansky… 

I started shopping at the over-priced Whole Foods for one good reason:  they didn’t have a “club card.”  Unfortunately, the mere passing of the Vons Supermarket across the street would give me the inability to have an erection for 24 hours. 

I became desperate.  I drove to Santa Anita racetrack and bought myself a pair of horse-blinders, to prevent me from seeing any Vons Supermarkets as I drove down the street.  But I always knew the supermarkets were there, close by, mocking me — especially since Sophia’s new GPS system was constantly telling me so.

However, with Sophia away, I was desperate for some love and affection.  I decided to fight my fear.  On Friday night, I went out with my mother-in-law’s chiropractor’s unemployed sister, Andrea.   After a nice dinner at Chicago for Ribs,  we ended back at her place.  We drank some wine and watched some TV.  Soon, we were in her bed.  It felt good to be with a woman again.  I was proud of myself for moving beyond my problem.  We made love for an hour.  Andrea was passionate, screaming things like, “Neilochka, you are amazing!” and “I’ve never been f***ed so good!” 

(note:  This unemployed woman should have said, “I’ve never been f***ed so well!” — another reason to always marry a “career woman,” who usually have a better command of the English language).

The lovemaking grew even more intense.  It felt as if the bed was levitating off the carpet.  Her face grew red, her breathing irregular.  Andrea was nearing the orgasm of her life, when I noticed that the TV in the living room was still on.  It was the end of Conan O’Brien.   There was a cut to a commercial — an advertisement for a certain local supermarket chain:

“This week at Vons:  use your Vons Club Card and get two packages of fresh strawberries for only four dollars!”

“Don’t stop!” yelled the hyperventilating Andrea.  But it was too late.   The Vons Club Card took its toll, and the toll was on me.

I have not heard back from Andrea since then.   And I don’t expect to.

But this tale does not end sadly.   Every psychological problem has a solution, if you are willing to work on yourself. 

Today, I walked into Vons like a REAL MAN and signed up for my very own Vons Club Card. 

Problem solved.


A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  138th Post About Sophia

Why I Want to Marry a Career Woman


Do you know about this controversial Forbes article: “Don’t Marry Career Women” written by journalist Michael Noer?

Women are all up in arms about it, but to me, it’s complete nonsense. Isn’t it obvious to most men? — the more money your wife makes, the better!

It’s simple. If she’s bringing in the big bucks, the less she is on your back about sitting at home in your underwear (or her underwear) and blogging! Let her work all day and make tons of money.

Of course, some men say they feel uncomfortable with a woman who is more “intelligent” or “high-powered” than they are. My response is, “What are you, a pussy? Marry the smartest woman you can! Beauty fades, but you always need someone to edit you blog posts.”

“Oh, sure,” I hear some men grumbling. “And what about the statistics that show high-powered career women are more likely to have affairs at work?”

I say, “Terrific!” More time for blogging at home. Who wants to put on fancy clothes and go out to some overpriced restaurant when some poor sucker in her office can do it for you? I’ll be catching up on All My Children. As long as I get to play with her tits every once in a while in between writing blog posts, I’m a happy man.

“But aren’t you afraid of your wife leaving you for her new lover?”

“Yeah, let’s see HIM stand around the Nordstrom women’s department for an hour holding her purse while she tries on a Tahari Pinstripe Skirt Suit. She’ll be back.”

Let’s praise the career woman!


A Year Ago On Citizen of the Month: Granny, Won’t You Drive My Car?

Blog Appreciation Day: Behind the Scenes


Boy, yesterday was fun!  I’m overwhelmed with how special you all are. 

And now a special treat.  Grab your backstage pass and see what REALLY happened during my preparations for the festivities. 

Wednesday, 8PM – I decide it is time to take my Blog Appreciation Day photos.

8:15PM — My digital camera doesn’t work.  I go to Rite-Aid to buy some new batteries.

9:00PM — The digital camera does not NEED new batteries.  The digital camera is broken.

9:30PM — I decide to use my camera phone, but all I can see in the viewfinder are scan lines on the monitor.

10:20PM — I move Sophia’s computer system downstairs where there is less “interference” on the monitor and fewer scan lines.  Why?  I have no idea!

11:00PM — I set up my “photography studio” in the dining room.  The area is dark, so I move a halogen lamp in, tilting it to the side so that it becomes the “scene’s” main light source.

11:20PM — The halogen lamp gives off a weird yellow glow.

11:30PM — I place an LA Times in front of the monitor,  but the camera can’t make it out.  It just looks like a white piece of glare.  I decide on a stronger visual gimmick — a pair of “California” undies hanging over the monitor.  

Midnight –  I go to Rite-Aid to buy string and some clothes pins.

Thursday, 1:00AM –I spent an hour hanging the string from the lighting fixture and pinning the underwear so it falls directly over the monitor.  I almost pull the lighting fixture off the ceiling.  I promise to never tell Sophia about that.

1:30 AM — Even though the underwear is now hanging over the moniter, it is still difficult to read the “California” written on the underwear because the fabric creases up. 

2:00AM — I come up with a brilliant solution.  I place the camera batteries in the crotch area, giving the underwear some weight, pulling the underwear down, and making the “California” easier to read.

2:40AM — I take some photos.  Things are going great until I realize that the batteries in the crotch area make the “California” underwear look like they have a hard-on.  I take the batteries out of the crotch, delete the photos,  and start all over again.

3:00AM — Sophia calls up.  She yells at me for using her underwear, saying they are old and everyone will think she has a big ass.  I promise not to use the underwear in the shoot, but I am lying.

4:00AM – Sophia also explains to me why my photos are coming out so dark.  The “brightness level” of the camera phone is on -15.  I start all over again.

5:00AM — I finish taking my blog appreciation day photos.  But I still need a cable to transfer the photos to the computer – and it is back at my other apartment.  Doh!  And the clock is ticking.  Soon, everyone on the East Coast will be up and going online!

5:30AM — I rush over to my apartment on the other side of town.  I transfer the photos.  All the photos have an ugly green tint.  I open each photo in Photoshop to work my mediocre filter magic.

7:00AM — I quickly email the photos, praying that I’m not sending the wrong photo to the wrong person.

8:00AM – I return to Redondo Beach. I take the monitor off the kitchen table and fall asleep right at the table.

9:00AM — I am startled awake.  The “California” underwear has fallen off the clothes pins and right onto my head.

But it was all worth it!  Every second of it.

Thanks for a great Blog Appreciation Day!

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  I Married a Republican!


Blog Appreciation Day


Happy Blog Appreciation Day! 

Why is today different than all other blogging days?   Because today we reflect on how wonderful all the other bloggers are in our virtual lives.   Don’t you frequently feel closer to a blogger than “real” friends and family, even when you haven’t even met the person?

If I sent you a photo of your blog, I apologize for the awful yellow tint.  It is a combination of three factors — a mediocre cell phone camera, ugly halogen lighting, and the fact that I’m a terrible photographer.  Ask Sophia.  I always take photos of her with her head chopped off.

Now this is a little embarrassing.  You weren’t supposed to send me photos of you reading my blog.  I’m supposed to send photos of me reading YOUR blog.   What kind of meglomaniac asks others to send him photos of his own blog?

That said, I’m not going to complain.  You are truly kind.  And I’ll put up all the photos in a few minutes. 

Now, spread the love around.

V-Grrl in Belgium! (look at the cute guy pissing on the Eiffel Tower)

Ms. Sizzle of Seattle kissing me where the sun doesn’t shine

Sarcomical loves Chinese food almost as much as blogging

Stephanie in her local coffee shop.  Is she wearing her new Crocs?

Dr. Psychotoddler reads his blogs on his PDA — and can get you Viagra for cheap.

Pearl of Humanyms sings “Oh, Canada” every morning in the shower before blogging.

Paperback Writer is the hottest thing in Pittsburgh since Flashdance.

Miss Syl of Sexeteria reading blogs in bed.  What stories that bed could tell!

Maitresse in Paris.  Do I really need to say more?

Leesa and a wild animal of Montana.

Acumamakki is all girly-type, until she plays with her roller derby team.

Everyone knows or should know Kevin Kapgar of Chicago.

Jocelyn proves that she is all-Canadian!

Fringes is a real yellow rose of Texas!

How edgy can Edgy Mama really be living in beautiful Asheville, North Carolina?

Meeting Claire was the best thing about my visit to the Berkshires.

The glamorous Caryn from the great state of Virginia!  Check out her tiara.

Newly engaged Alissa rocks the Motor City!

Ali has become a Southern tease, just showing her foot. 

Brainy and beautiful Elisabeth may have been born in France, but she loves Pennsylvania!

The Psycho Therapist is ready to see you in her office.

Tamarika is an early childhood educator and author, and loves to drink coffee while reading blogs.

Tara in Iowa has trained her pig to read blogs.

Karl is so brave he went to BlogHer and lived to survive it.

Blundering American loves Florida sunshine, Florida orange juice, and blogging.

Bill proves that there is blogging life in Canada outside of Toronto — in bohemian Edmonton, Alberta.

Nics of Belfast has Irish eyes that are always smiling and an Irish wit that you can see on her blog.

(I’ve Got a Gal in) Kalamazoo — and her name is Cynical Girl!

Bre of Pottsville, Pennsylvania better call up her firefighter father, because she is a smoking hot blogger.

Fashionable Wendy is also known at Charlotte’s most astutute “Observer” on life, family, and blogging.

They call her JustRun, and Denver’s favorite runner/blogger writes some high altitude goodness.

Denise is America’s Finest Blogger from America’s Finest City, San Diego.  Notice the Padres cup!

The mysterious ChickyBabe from Sydney loves to blog “Aussie” style.

Ken of Manhattan is the youngest reader of Citizen of the Month.  He also enjoys playing with women’s boobs.

Can you guess why Elle‘s photo is my favorite?

Should I Hug You?


One of the bloggers I met during my trip to San Diego was Modigli.  Meeting her was particularly exciting because I’ve been interacting with her as a blogger for more than a year.  I’ve “been with her” when she lived in Cleveland, when she took a trip to Florida, when she fell in love with another blogger in San Diego, when she moved to San Diego, when she couldn’t find a job, when she took a crappy job at Starbucks, when she finally got a teaching job, etc. 

I know more about her than some of my real friends.

So, I see her for the first time as I’m getting out of my car in front of her apartment complex.  But do I feel joy?  No!   Being a neurotic person, I feel only anxiety.  Why?  Because all I could think about was, “How do I greet her?”

“Do I hug her?  And do I hug her in that fake way or give her a real hug?  Should I give her a kiss on the cheek?  Will she think I’m too forward?  Will her boyfriend get mad?  Should I just shake her hand?  Should I kiss her “French” style on both cheeks?  Will she think me unfriendly if I don’t kiss her at all?” 

Luckily she came and gave me a big hug so I didn’t have to worry anymore (until it was time to go home when the thoughts came up again).

I enjoy meeting other bloggers, but I don’t like feeling anxious.  So, please help me and tell me now AHEAD OF TIME how you would like to be greeted – in case I ever meet you in person.

Would you like me to:

1)  Hug you weakly?
2)  Hug you strongly?
3)  Kiss you once on the cheek?
4)  Kiss you on both cheeks?
5)  Kiss you on the lips?
6)  Kiss you on the lips with tongue action?
7)  Kiss you while feeling you up?
8)  Kiss you while squeezing your ass?
9)  Kiss you while grinding against you?
10) Shake your hand?

Thanks for your help. 

And remember, tomorrow is Blog Appreciation Day.   Show your love to another blogger!  If you are sending a photo to someone, and you’re not afraid of revealing your location, show the daily newspaper or something specific so the person can feel proud that his blog is being read in Memphis or London, or wherever else you might live.


A Year Ago in Citizen of the Month:  Can Anybody Find Me Somebody to Hate?

Moving Week


I hate moving!  It is so tedious and time-consuming.  But I’m never too busy to sing in the car as I’m shlepping boxes… 

sung to the tune of ‘The Jeffersons’ theme, “Movin’ On Up”  (listen to the original song)

Well, I’m movin’ on up, to the Westside
To Sophia’s apartment by the beach
Movin’ on up, to the Westside
Her panties are now within reach.

Sophie’s bras in the morning,
Wearing her stockings at night.
How does she wear these stilletos?  Isn’t this teddy too tight?
Wearing her dress on the weekend,
Looking like Barbie, not Ken.
I’m livin’ the high life, just me and her undies,
Until she kicks me out once again!

Well, I’m movin’ on up, to the Westside
To Sophia’s apartment by the beach
Movin’ on up, to the Westside
Her panties are now within reach.


A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  She Exists!

Thursday is Blog Appreciation Day

local newspaper on Mount Everest

Summer is coming to an end, and fall brings in new emotions.  I just had a wonderful weekend meeting some bloggers in San Diego.  So, I’m feeling all sentimental about blogging – 

Isn’t it amazing that you can interact with others — and in such an intimate way — even when that other person lives half the country away in Pittsburgh?  Or half the world away in Mauritus?

That’s why Thursday is Blog Appreciation Day!

What is Blog Appreciation Day?

The idea formed as I drove home from San Diego.  As I was on the 5 Freeway, I started getting sleepy.  Maybe it was all that champagne at brunch!  I got off the freeway to grab a cup of coffee.  I ended up in some small beach town between San Diego and Orange County.  

As I drank my coffee in a small coffee shop, I perused through the local “free” newspaper.  In it, was a feature titled “Around the World.”  The column was all about local residents who submitted pictures of themselves while travelling.  In the photos, they were holding up their rinky-dink local paper in some faraway location, whether it be Chicago or China.   I started laughing, not because I was making fun of the concept, but because they do the EXACT SAME THING in the Redondo Beach local paper.   And I thought this was just a Redondo Beach gimmick!   How naive of me.  Do they do this in all small town newspapers? 

local newspaper in Morocco

This small town gesture is easy to make fun of.  After all, you don’t see people showing off their copies of The New York Times in exotic places:

 “Look at me!  The New York Times actually went to China!”

But, in reality, I found the gesture rather heartwarming.  By taking a photo of yourself holding the HOMETOWN paper in front of the Eiffel Tower, you’re sending a strong message to those back at home:  “Hey look, we are part of the world community.  You can actually read this rinky-dink Redondo Beach newspaper in Paris!”

I’ll admit it –  I get a real kick knowing that someone actually reads my stupid blog in places like Fort Lauderdale, Florida  and Sydney, Australia!  How cool is that?  And I’m sure you feel the same way about your blog. 

Wouldn’t it be nice to actually SEE you home page in one of these places, just like you enjoy seeing someone holding up your local newspaper in Bombay?

That is where Blog Appreciation Day comes in.  Anyone who asks for it in today’s comments, will get a digital photograph emailed to them on Thursday.  The photo will be of HIS or HER blog taken from my actual MONITOR in LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA.   Show your friends and family!  Amaze your children!  Feel good about what you do.   Look how you’ve made an impact thousands of miles away.

That is what Blog Appreciation Day is all about.  You can finally say, “Hey, someone actually reads my dumb blog all the way in California.  And, look — I have photographic PROOF!”

The only thing I ask in return is that if you ask for a digital photo, you pass the gesture on to the next blogger.  You need to make a photograph of another blogger’s blog and email it to them — perhaps some blogger who has done something meaningful for you, even if you have never met. 

Show a friendly blogger how their blog is appreciated, even in a faraway land.

Remember, Blog Appreciation Day is this Thursday, August 24th. 

Would you like a photo of your blog?

Fitena’s blog (written in Mauritius) on my monitor in Los Angeles

Another example:  Sophia sent me this for Kapgar in Chicago.  Notice Sophia ultra-chic New York highlights in her hair.


A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  TV is for Babies

I’ll Be A Little Angel


Margaret, I heard you loud and clear in the comments to my last post.

“This is getting weird.”

You’re right.

Next week I’m going to try to be good boy — the nice Jewish boy my mother raised me to be. I will not write anything salacious. As a blogger, I’m a role model to the community at large, which means certain responsibilites.

That’s why I’ve decided to drive down to San Diego to spend some time with intelligent bloggers such as Modigli, Dating Dummy, and Lushy to discuss matters such as politics and world affairs.

I also hope to grab some alone time in San Diego. I’d like to read this new book I got. For me, reading a good novel is the best way to stop thinking about Sophia and my frustrating sex life — and to think about other topics!



A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: My “Lucy”

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