the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Month: February 2007 (Page 2 of 3)

Our Upcoming Drive to Portand

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First up, thanks for all those birthday greetings for Sophia.   She was tickled pink.   Yesterday, we saw a concert by the Preservation Hall Jazz Band from New Orleans.  We ate French crepes in the morning and Indian Tandoori at night. 

But there was ONE little problem.  Remember, yesterday, I wrote a whole post about how important it was to make an elaborate toast for the birthday girl.  And how important it was to make this toast with some sort of alcoholic drink.   So, I waited all day to make this toast until we were at dinner, not realizing that I made reservations at a Halal Indian Restaurant, which means they were Muslim and didn’t have alcohol!   Luckily Danny plied us with champagne when we stopped over at his house after dinner.  To top it all, he baked a birthday cake for Sophia!

What we are looking forward to during our upcoming road trip to Portland to meet some bloggers:

Neil:  Tillamook Cheese Tour

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Sophia:  The Redwoods —

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(thanks, Psychomom!)

 

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  Brokeback Birthday

A Toast for Sophia’s Birthday, Russian-Style

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Today is Sophia’s birthday.  Most of my fellow blog-acquaintances know how much she means to me.  After all, this blog is 75% about her!  Clearly, she is one of my obsessions.  And why wouldn’t she be?  She’s a real babe.  Above is a childhood photo of Sophia.  She still has the playfulness of a child, only now combined with sexiness of a smart, exciting woman.  She’s taught me how to live it up, how to be assertive, and how to be a better partner.  Look at that smile.  Amazing, right?  And she’s funny, too.  You should read how boring my blog posts are until she gets her hands on them.  Today certainly is a special day for me and everyone who knows Sophia.  It is the day she was born!

I’m going to try to show Sophia a good time today, but it is difficult to compete with a culture that really knows how to party. 

I recently read this great post comparing the way Americans party to the way of Russians.

Americans are boring. They don’t know how to have a good time. Sophistication is often preferred to fun. A typical American wedding, for example, involves prim girls in conservative dresses, guys nursing the same glass of Merlot for several hours while talking to each other about the box score, and a bland choice between chicken or fish. Even a typical evening out is dull – a bar with bad music, or even worse, a lounge where you can “sit and talk.” Bah! If you want to have a good time, you have to hop on the train to Brighton Beach and party with Russians.

Since getting married to Sophia, I’ve gone to quite a few “Russian” celebrations, and I’m usually out of it by the second glass of vodka.  I’m the comic foil at these gatherings, as even the old women laugh at the way I sip the vodka like a glass of chardonnay.

The Russians are a “literary” people, and a birthday event is not JUST about drinking, eating, and dancing.  There is the tradition of “toasting.” 

In the English-speaking world, we might say something like “Cheers,” then drink our beer.   To Russians, only a certified moron would make a toast like that.  A toast is an opportunity to be as elaborate and poetic as possible. 

The first toast is devoted to the occasion, the second toast is usually in honor of the host or the primary person at the gathering (or, sometimes, to friendship), the third toast is typically in honor of women or love. After that, anything goes. You should be prepared to give at least one toast, and “to life, to life, le chaim” will get you only so far. The best topics for a toast include: to our parents’ great wisdom, to a woman’s beauty, to academic prowess, to financial prosperity, to health, and to world peace (especially if foreigners are present).  When you toast, it’s good to have a story. The actual toast doesn’t necessarily have to do anything with the story, as long as the story is sufficiently elaborate. Think along these lines: Once my 95 year old grandfather visited me in Odessa. I took him to the beach, and when he saw the water, he asked me, “what is that?” I told him, “that’s the Black Sea, grandfather.” To which he replied, “and what was there before the revolution?” So, let us raise our glasses so that we may live long enough to annoy our grandchildren with such stupid questions!

One important note:

Don’t drink without toasting, or you’ll be considered an alcoholic.

I’m usually too nervous to toast anyone during the beginning of the meal.  I wait until the serving of the 25th course, when I make the toast in English while Sophia translates.  Unfortunately, unlike on my blog, where I am considered “witty,” my jokes always fall flat.  I often get blank and bemused stares.  Luckily, I’m clever enough to throw it some Russian word at the end of the toast, giving everyone something to cheer about while they drink.

I’m going to make my toast to Sophia later, in person, but feel free to pour yourself a glass of virtual vodka and make a toast in honor of Sophia’s birthday in the comments.

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Drink up!

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  Happy Birthday, Sophia

A Merry Yarn of Whale-Watching

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Aye matey, ye be wantin’ to hear this here tale, this merry yarn. Twas a year ago when I got my noggin a thinkin’ that since I’m a livin’ the life o’ California, I should get myself on the high seas o’ the Pacific with my feisty wench, Sophia, and see me some whale-watching, as is done around these parts around March.

So, off we join the other sea scumming tourists, land lubbers every one o’ them, on the vessel named “Rip-off” that took off from the Port o’ Redondo. The salty dog chugged its way to the deeper waters, the slowest schooner I’ve ever sighted, the journey as thrillin’ as tradin’ shots of warm grog or pissin’ off the poop deck. Well, me hearties, me tried to amuse himself by feeling the rockin’ of the scurvy, rat-infested ship, imagining a lovin’ moment with me buxom beauty down in the bilge.

“C’mere me beauty,” ye said to Sophia, me eyes gazin’ at her treasure chest, “Me hornpipe is itchin’ to play a tune.”

After she shot me down like a barnacle scraped off o’ rudder, me turned to the slimy captain o’ the vessel and said, ” Ahoy, mate. We’ve been on the seas for three hours and nary a whale. Arr. when will we finally see one?”

“Gar, don’t get your spyglass all filled with the doubloon, mate.” Me promise ye with the cold steel of my hook hand that we’ll see a member of the whale family. As Cap’n of this here good ship, me GUARANTEE that ye see a beauty of a whale, or ye get your coins returned.”

“Guaranteed? Our money returned? That offer is brave of ye. I’ll be expecting my booty if you don’t deliver, ye scallywag.”

“Return ye to the port bow, ye whoreson rat, and fix ye gaze upon the seas. I feel a whale due North.”

I returned to my pretty lass, who was lookin’ as bored as a salted herring.

“Avast, me proud beauty. No need to shiver ye timbers. The honest Cap’n GUARANTEES a whale sighting, or our precious coins are returned as fast as a pin in me britches!”

“Pin in his britches. Pin in his britches.” yelled the parrot on Sophia’s fetchin’ shoulder. “Brwaack, Neilochka’s not fast. Neilochka’s not fast. It takes him ten minutes to take off o’ wench’s brassiere.”

“F***in’ parrot,” me mumbled.

Another hour passed, and me lovely lass began to feel as sick as a scabbard full o’ lice sittin’ in Davy Jones Locker. Cap’n Wastin’ Time finally turned his pirate ship around and set sail back to Port o’ Redondo.

“All is good.” I told me Sophia.

My buxom beauty was in no mood for lovin’. “Ya scurvy cur who ortin’ t’ be keel hauled! This was the worst whale-watching trip ever!”

“At least we will get our booty returned,” ye replied.

Suddenly, the Cap’n lets out a loud roar. “Weight anchor! Hoist the mizzen!! Batten down yer hatches. Thar she blows! Thar she blows!”

Every scurvy rat on deck ran portside to see the spectacle. But it was nothin’ more than a dolphin jumpin’ out of the water and makin’ the sounds of a gin-drinkin’ mate three sheets to the wind.

“Skuttle me, Skipper,” I said, laughin’. “But that’s o’ dolphin, not o’ whale.”

“Sorry, mate. But if ye knew ye science, ye’d know that whales and dolphins are the same family!”

“What about ye GUARANTEE?”

“Read the small print on ye ticket, matey. It says “money back if ye don’t see a member of the whale “family.”

And then the Cap’n laughed a laugh so loud and hearty that it must have woken Blackbeard himself sleepin’ on the zenith of the moon.

“Sucker. Sucker.” said Sophia’s parrot. “Brwaack!”

Six “Weird” Things You Don’t Know About Me

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  1. I live with a woman that I am separated from!
  2. I am travelling all the way to Portland, Oregon next month just to spend ONE NIGHT meeting a bunch of bloggers I hardly know!
  3. I am DRIVING all the way to Portland, a FIFTEEN HOUR trip!
  4. I am driving to Portland WITH this woman that I am separated from!
  5. I am driving to Portland without any real plans, other than taking 4-5 days to drive up the coast, and stopping at both Napa, California for some wine and Tilamook, Oregon for some cheese!
  6. Oh, and I LOVE naked women!

Totally weird!

Let’s see… who else is on the way to and in Portland? — Dagny, Leese, Buzzgirl, Jurgen, Chantel, Alexandra., etc. I’m sure this is exactly what Sophia wants to do on her vacation — watch me talk about blogging with some more bloggers!

Update: I just read this over again, and the proximity of my naked women joke and the mention of several female bloggers might wrongly give the impression that I want to see these bloggers “naked” as I am driving up towards Portland. That is far from the truth. Well, I mean, if I actually got to see another woman naked, it’s not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, but that isn’t my main reason for mentioning these specific bloggers. Maybe what I meant to say was that I enjoy seeing women “naked” in the sense of knowing a person’s “inner truth,” like a naked “soul.” Eh, maybe I should just stop now before I make things worse —

Thanks for Yesterday!

Yesterday’s Valentine’s Day Emergency Hotline was a lot of fun.  Thanks to everyone who participated.  The experience was also important to me because it helped clarify what I want to do with the rest of my life — become a CEO.  You come up with a decent idea, you have others do all the hard work, you pay them next to nothing, and YOU get all the credit!

Now this blog returns to doing what it does best — pontificating about racial issues.

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A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  Mom, Don’t Forget To Wear Your Hat

The Blogosphere’s Valentine’s Day Emergency Hotline

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(photo by sudergal, on flickr)

The Valentine’s Day Emergency Hotline at mister_valentinesday (Yahoo IM)

Are you alone on Valentine’s Day? Is the only Valentine’s Day Card you received the one from the supermarket with a discount coupon for Dannon Yogurt? Did you lie to your fraternity brothers, saying you’re not going out on Valentine’s Day because you just HAVE to watch “American Idol” live? Did your husband forget to buy you one of those cutesy stuffed bears from CVS Pharmacy that plays “Love Me Do” when you press his tummy? Did you just find out that your girlfriend is having an affair with her Pilates instructor and you’re going to your pre-paid Valentine’s Day dinner at some fancy restaurant with your mother? Did your father never say “I Love You” enough when you were a child? Have you been going to therapy for more than fifteen years because of “commitment issues?” Are you a perv who just can’t get enough loving? Do you sometimes wish you had two wives, one blond and one brunette? Would you leave your husband for George Clooney… in a New York minute? Do you believe that what the world needs now is love, love, love?

It doesn’t matter if you are single, in a relationship, married, divorced, whatever — you still can yearn for more love. Can anyone have too much love? And Valentine’s Day just adds pressure to us all. You might hate it, but this supposedly romantic day is in your face for half of the month of February, like a red zit. You want to feel that certain glow, that special romantic feel you read about in books, but how? Hallmark Cards are so old-fashioned, and so corny. We live in a fast-paced world, and sometimes we require some care and tenderness NOW — WHEN WE WANT IT.

And now it is a possible… at least on Valentine’s Day. Through the combined efforts of internet technology and the generous time of regular bloggers like you, we are proud to introduce the Valentine’s Day Emergency Hotline. During February 14th, any time you are feeling the need for a little Valentine’s Day boost, just go to mister_valentinesday at Yahoo IM, and a real live Mr. Valentine and Ms. Valentine will give you some love. These are not recorded messages, like the type you would get if you tried to contact Microsoft or Verizon. These are real live people who want to make your Valentine’s Day extra special.

Feeling down because the woman at the next cubicle got a bouquet of 48 red roses, and you have NOTHING on your desk other than paperwork? Are you sad because that sexy English grad student doesn’t want to “be your valentine?” Are you just looking for a little extra romance in your life?

Go to the Valentine’s Day Emergency Hotline at mister_valentinesday (Yahoo IM) on February 14th and FEEL THE LOVE!

Special thanks to Buzzgirl, Hilly, Retropolitan, Mo, Girl and Dog, PocketCT, Teahouseblossom, Ms. Sizzle, Alissa, Atomic Bombshell, Journey to Blissville, and Jurgen Nation.

Hours of operation: Valentine’s Day — 9:00 AM EST/6:00 AM PST to 3:00 AM EST/12:00 MIDNIGHT PST

Anyone who wants to cover Europe, Asia, or any other time zones – E-mail me.

Black-White Issues Jump the Shark

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Recently, there was a lot of arguing going on at Los Angeles talk radio stations about a crime in Long Beach, CA that happened last October, where a gang of thirty youths severely beat three girls. One girl was so battered that she had multiple fractures and required surgery to reposition one of her eyes. The gang consisted of black boys and girls. The victims were all white. The victims were tormented about their “whiteness,” so when the perpetrators were caught, they were charged with an additional hate crime. This caused a big turmoil as some questioned whether blacks could ever be charged with a hate crime against whites. As one commenter in the Huffington Post recently said after an article on this subject:

The fact is that black people in the U.S. represent a distinct minority with a unique history of having been brought here as slaves, against their will. They cannot “pass” into the majority population because of skin color. And they continue to be the objects of constant and often violent racism directed at them by the majority. They are also, in large numbers, segregated into separate housing, schools, places of work, and jobs within any particular business.

Is it fair to say that a violent act against a black person, motivated by race, is equal to a violent act against a white person, motivated by race? No, actually, it’s not at all fair. There is a long history of majority white violence against black people in this country publicly represented by the Klan, but privately supported by millions of white citizens. The effect of that racism is to continue to brutally enforce patterns of racism and segregation.

These three women were beaten to a pulp because they were white. Hate crime laws are on the books. So, what gives? For some, ideological distinctions are more important than justice. Isn’t it time to move to a new level in racial relations where the aim is to protect anyone from being victimized? If we want to have “hate crime” laws, we should at least use them to help all victims. Of course, as in many of these racially-tinged trials, the biggest losers were the three victims. The defendants were given amazingly light sentences.

Four of nine black teenagers convicted in the racially charged beating of three white women on Halloween were sentenced to probation Friday.

Punishment could have ranged up to confinement in a California Youth Authority lockup until age 25. The teens were ordered to serve 250 hours of community service, 60 days house arrest, and take anger management and racial tolerance programs.

Some saw this as a victory for the African-American community. And why is that? The fact remains that these three girls were beaten up by a gang of young criminals, and scarred for life, both emotionally and physically. The criminals will just go back to their community and continue to terrorize innocent people in their own community.

Until college, I attended public school in Queens. I received a pretty good education, mostly because I was shoved into special advanced classes. Sadly, much of the school lived on in chaos. As in any large urban school, there were gangs of kids who would steal your lunch money or worse. In my school, these kids were mostly black. Now that I’m far away in suburban Redondo Beach, it’s easy to remember these poor youths as underprivileged, but at the time, when you heard the term “F**k you, whitey,” you just wondered if you could run as fast as the “Six Million Dollar Man.”

Still, even in the middle of these crime sprees, I never visualized it as a black vs. white issue. These bad kids were black mostly because the school had a large black population of students. There were plenty of smart black kids in our advanced class, and they were picked on as much as the white kids, if not more. In fact, after school, my Jewish friends and I walked one way home, to the “better” neighborhood, while my black friends walked in the same direction as the thugs, getting beaten up twice as badly.

To me, the issue at my junior high school was the same as it was in Long Beach — a criminal element acting against innocents. End of story. I’m sorry, but forty years after Martin Luther King, race issues are beginning to jump the shark for me. Can’t we move onto talking about race in a new way?

Today, I read an article asking another very important racial question — Is Barack Obama black enough?

There are degrees of black political cred in America. Those whose ancestors lived through the harrowing years of slavery, might well take the view that a guy like Obama with a Kenyan father and a white mother hasn’t “lived” the black American experience the hard way.

As far as his professional path is concerned, Obama hasn’t risen through the ranks by taking the route well traveled by many prominent African American leaders. No service as a pastor or as an activist in the NAACP. Some in the black community see him as too fresh, too fast and too slick. A graduate of Harvard who made his own running. A guy with a foot in the white camp.

Am I supposed to care? How black SHOULD he be? This is another example of race-related talk that just seems out-dated. Hey, I grew up in Queens (birthplace of Run DMC). I went to a public school with a large black population.  I’ve been to a rap concert AND, once upon a time, owned an album by the Commodores.  If you really want street cred — I’m more black than Barack Obama.  But that doesn’t make me a better candidate?

When are we going to grow up?

Money

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Sophia and I went to a party in Malibu, where we met this woman who was telling us how her husband had just bought his seventh car. Sophia asked if he traded in his car every year, thinking that he was on his seventh car since moving to Los Angeles. No — this was his SEVENTH CAR.   I felt a little uncomfortable the rest of the night as they talked about real estate and their trip to Norway.  You didn’t have to be a psychic to know that the four of us probably wouldn’t be hanging out too much together, simply because of the differences in wealth.

We’re not poor, but we’re not rich, and for some reason, I’ve always noticed that it is difficult to hang out in social circles where others are very richer or poorer than you, just because your lifestyles tend to be different. This is something none of us dare talk about — that money can separate us more than color or religion or age.

Yesterday, I made fun of the categories that the blogosphere puts us in — mommybloggers, etc. But if all the mommybloggers met in a room together, they would less separate into groups of color or age than groups based on income, where the wealthy group would chat about the hippest new stroller and getting their child into the “right” pre-school while the middle-class group would complain about health care.

That’s just life.

I don’t begrudge the guy from Malibu for having his seven cars. It’s actually pretty cool, and I’m sure he worked hard to get where he is. Even though I felt a little insecure talking with him, I can’t say that he was “better” than me. After all, I run a successful blog and he doesn’t. Still, it made me sad to think that our friendship had barriers to it based on money. Growing up, I understood the importance of money in enjoying life, but I never quite realized how much of a role it has in determining your social interactions. Is this just a Los Angeles/New York thing?

As I read your blogs, I notice that some of you go on exotic vacations seemingly every week. Some of you are working two jobs, although I suspect most bloggers are doing well enough to waste their time… uh, blogging.. I find it all interesting. I love that ONLINE there is freedom to walk in different social circles. I’m hoping that race, religion, etc. is never a factor in online friendship.

But, let’s be honest, do you think differences in MONEY would hinder many of us from becoming friends in real life?

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: Blogger’s Fashion Emergency

We Are

The New York Times hates us because we don’t fall into their “demographic.”  The Los Angeles Time doesn’t even acknowledge our existence.  We are not the mainstream.  We don’t fit into an easy niche.  We are not even the mommybloggers or the dating bloggers or the hipster mommybloggers or the “dating but hip” dating bloggers or the “literary knitting” bloggers who may or may not have bipolar disorders.  They don’t like us because they are afraid of us.  They hate us for being “different,” “eccentric” or even “freaks.” 

But we dismiss all labels.  We are who we ARE.  And we are united together by the blogosphere.  Through this electronic culture we have grown into an independent group of bloggers.  We are strong.  We laugh at your disdain and contempt.

Yes.  Finally, there is a blogging circle created especially for US.   Do you fit our description?

We are men.  We are Jewish men.  But we are not just any Jewish men.   We are Jewish men who live in Redondo Beach with their separated wives and talk to their penis from time to time and have mothers who mispronounces blog as “blodge.”  I invite all bloggers who fit this description to please join our group. 

Together we can MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

Join now and remember to put our inspiring graphics and buttons on your sidebar!

Addendum:  Members of this group tend to be too lazy to actually make any graphics or buttons.

The Ideal Man and Woman

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sorry, Fabio, you were voted off.

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model for Mr. “Valentine’s Day”

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model for Ms. “Valentine’s Day”

OK, we’re on for Valentine’s Day! I’m in the process of emailing out tentative time slots now (read here to learn more).

We will be open for business from 9AM EST until 3AM EST! Anyone who is lonely or needs some Valentine’s Day cheer can IM mister_valentinesday on yahoo IM and get some lovin’ from a real live person. I gave myself the last late night slot, thinking that this will be the time when most single women will be drunk and desperate. Ha Ha –I’m not stupid!

There is one problem left. Yesterday, I was talking with a blogger, and she said, “I like Stacy from Jurgen Nation and all, but I’m not sure I really want to log in and chat with her on Valentine’s Day and have her think that I’m a Valentine’s Day loser.”

Let me make something clear. All the people who are doing this experiment with me are hand-picked exactly because they are as miserable as you in some aspect of their lives. Think about it. What type of NUT would volunteer to participate in this? These are EXACTLY the type of people you want to chat with in order to feel good about yourself on Valentine’s Day.

And remember — you are NOT chatting with some anonymous blogger or Stacy from Jurgen Nation. You will be chatting with the very handsome and romantic Mr. Valentine’s Day or the glamorous Ms. Valentine’s Day, depending on who you want to be YOUR VALENTINE.

But we still need your help. We still need to create these wonderful personas — Mr. Valentine’s Day and Ms. Valentine’s Day. What are their characteristics? Since Valentine’s Day is supposedly about romance, I think these icons should have the traits of the “ideal” man and woman. Your input is essential in helping us “understand” our roles. Like Robert De Niro, we want to BECOME the characters. This means if I am on IM duty and a man shows up, depressed because he didn’t get any Valentine’s Day cards, I should be ready to immediately jump into the role of Ms. Valentine’s Day and “make his day” by telling him he is “my valentine.”

So what are the characteristics of the ideal man AND woman, so we can all better play one on Valentine’s Day? Attractive? Romantic? Honest? Sense of humor? Great ass? We need to hear from both men and women.

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