Citizen of the Month

the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Category: Life with Sophia (Page 13 of 27)

The Sprint Phone and the Ticking Clock

March 30, 2007 / / 33 Comments

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A year ago, I wrote about being offered a free Sprint phone as part of the Sprint Ambassador Program for bloggers.   All the service, music, TV on the phone and other special doodads were included for free for 6 months.  Sophia, being the gadget freak of the family, was extremely jealous, so much so that she convinced Sprint that she should get one too as my blog editor. 

After six months, the service was cut off and Sophia went into severe withdrawal.   She insisted that I pimp myself out on my blog so Sprint would include us in Phase II of their Ambassador Program.  What I didn’t realize was, that during the six months, Sophia had been giving Sprint extensive feedback on the phone and the various services, which explained why Sprint offered Sophia a different free phone for Phase II, but told me to go to hell and use the Devil’s pay phone.

Phase II is now coming to an end, and all week, Sophia has been acting all jittery.  She even kicked me out of bed a few nights ago, saying there wasn’t enough room for the two of us AND her Sprint phone all in the same bed.   The next morning, I found the two of them cuddling together, the flip-top of the LG Fusic phone leaning comfortably on the softness of Sophia’s right breast, singing her a love song that was a free purchase, of course, under the terms of the Ambassador Program.

Two nights ago, we were driving home from the Valley, stuck in traffic on the 405.  Sophia was reading her email on her phone.

“Oh God!  Sprint is announcing Phase III!   They’re already chosen the participants, but are leaving 100 slots for previous Ambassadors!  The first 100 people… First come, first served!  Stop the car!  We need to sign up.”

“Can’t we wait until we get home?”

“Are you crazy?  It’s only 100 people!  And it’s some brand new exciting-sounding phone.”

“Can’t you sign up ON the phone?”

“No, we have to go online.  I have the laptop in the trunk.  We need to find some place with wi-fi.”

“We’ll be home in a half hour.”

She glanced down at her mobile Yahoo account.

“Look, there’s another email for you.  They’re offering you a chance to sign up, too!”

“They are?  That changes everything!   We need to stop the car right now!”

I twirled the steering wheel, exiting the freeway, nearly causing three accidents, all that time thinking who gets to sign up for the phone first.  After all – it’s first come, first served.

Right off the freeway was a McDonald’s.

“McDonald’s has wi-fi.”

“They do?”

“Yeah, they all do.  It’s like $2.95 an hour.”

“OK, let’s do it.”

We pulled into McDonald’s.  Sophia set up the laptop as I ordered a diet Coke, not because I was thirsty, but because I felt weird sitting there without ordering something.  Microsoft Windows booted up, but we didn’t receive any wireless signal.  

My luck.  I picked the only McDonald’s in Los Angeles County without wi-fi.

“There must be a Starbucks around here,” said Sophia.

“Do you know how much wi-fi is in Starbucks?!”

“Now’s not the time to be chintzy.  The clock is ticking.”

I visualized bloggers around the country typing on their PCs, signing up for a free phone while some Sprint executive was sitting in Sprint headquarters counting down how many of those hundred extra phones were left to hand out first come, first serve. 

Sprint Executive:  “100… 99… 98… 97…”

It felt like we were in an episode of “24,” and the split-screen was filling up with several different events all happening at once —

1)  Sophia adjusting the laptop in different directions, hoping to steal some wi-fi.

2)  Neil asking the McDonald’s manager for the location of the nearest Starbucks.

3)   The Sprint executive packing phones into boxes, one by one —

Sprint Executive:  “91…90… 89…88…”

“I have an idea!” I told Sophia.  “We can use the Sprint phone from Phase II to help us get the Sprint phone from Phase III.”

Sophia nodded, understanding my suggestion.  The Phase II Sprint phone came with a USB cord that you could connect to the laptop, so you could use the phone as a modem.

I ran outside to the parking lot to search the glove compartment of Sophia’s Prius for the USB data cord.

Sprint Executive:  “81… 80… 79… 78…”

I “sprinted” back into the fast-food joint, clutching the cord.  We connected everything together — the laptop into McDonald’s outlet, the modem into the USB slot, the data cord into the Sprint phone.  As we were about to make lift-off, the phone started to beep and sputter.  Uh-oh, it was seriously out of juice.

“I told you to charge it last night!” yelled Sophia.

“It’s your phone.  Not mine! I don’t have the Phase II fancy-schmancy phone like you do!”  I screamed back.

As in any tense situation, the affected parties began to blame each other for the miserable turn of events.

“Wait…wait…wait….” I shouted.  “I have that emergency Energizer phone charger that Chelle sent me for my birthday!   It’s in the car, still in the package!”

If ever another blogger had saved my marriage, this surely was it.

I ran to the car again. 

Sprint Executive:  “61… 60… 59…”

By the time I rushed back in, holding Chelle’s gift, everyone in the McDonald’s was staring at us, wondering if we doing some top secret government work.

Sprint Executive:  “52… 51…”

All I had to do now was open the package, but it was impossible to do, either with your hands… or with a McDonald’s plastic fork.    I cursed Energizer and their Bunny.    Luckily, a car key finally did the job and sliced the plastic.   I extracted the emergency charger and tried to plug it into the Sprint phone, but I couldn’t figure out how to make it fit.

“Can’t you read?!” said Sophia, annoyed.  “This charger is for your Nokia phone, not for my Sprint LG Phone.”

“Why do they have to make this electronics crap so complicated?!”

Sophia and I glared at each other.  Things were getting worse by the second.  Visions of divorce papers floated over our heads, all because of our greediness for this new Sprint phone.

Sprint Executive:  “48… 47… 46… 45… 44…”

Our quest seemed hopeless.  But as “The Secret” has shown us, if you believe it, good things can happen.

“Over here!  Come over here!”  called out a Voice.  Was it God?

No.  It was some Asian guy in a UCLA shirt, sitting with his Pocket PC on the other side of McDonald’s, beckoning to us.

“If you come over here you can steal wi-fi from the 1-800-Mattress store next door!”

We quickly made the move to the other side of the McDonald’s, right next to the display for their new “Honey Mustard Grilled Chicken Snack Wrap.”   The good Samaritan’s kindness made us feel guilty for the harsh words we exchanged with each other.  We told each other how much we loved each other, and begged that the OTHER sign up first.

“You go first,” I told Sophia.

“No, no, you go.” she said.

The clock was still ticking. 

Sprint Executive:  “31… 30… 29… 28…”

“Well, one of us should sign up already!  Go.” she said.

“OK, if you insist!”

Sprint Executive:  “21… 20…19…”

Frankly, I was really glad I was going first.  I mean, Sophia is great and all, but I AM the blogger.  I’m the one who deserves the phone, right?  I signed up for the Sprint Ambassador Program, Phase III.  It took me about ten minutes, because I had some technical problems.  I received a message that I would be under consideration. 

“My turn!  My turn!” cried Sophia, almost pulling her curly hair out.  I gave her the laptop and she signed up as well.  She got the same message:  under consideration.

Today, Sophia received an email that she was accepted.  They loved all the feedback that she has been giving Sprint.   Her new Sprint phone was in the mail. 

I checked my email.  I received nothing except for a few more spams telling me where to get some Viagra on the cheap. 

The Sanjaya of the Blogosphere

March 28, 2007 / / 43 Comments

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My mother arrived in Los Angeles today, in preparation for Passover next week.   After she unpacked, Sophia and I showed her all of the birthday cards that I received from other bloggers.

“You see, Mom, friendship is more important than actually making a decent living through writing.” 

“Well, let’s not get carried away this…” added Sophia.

My mother opened up a cutesy hand-made card from a Canadian blogger.

“And so many women!”

“Neilochka’s very popular with female bloggers.” explained Sophia.

I beamed with pride.  My mother may have once imagined me as a Jewish doctor or lawyer, but I doubt she dreamed that I would grow up to become an international sex symbol. 

“You’re like that boy on TV,” she said.

“What boy?”

“The boy in American Idol.   The boy all the girls like.  The Indian boy.”

“Sanjaya?”

“Sanjaya!” Sophia repeated, laughing.

I felt insulted by my own mother.  She just nodded.

“When I saw him the first time on TV, I knew he was going to win.  He has so much personality.  So much more than his sister.”

“Personality!?  He’s awful,” I protested.

“Oh, yeah?  I bet you five cents that he wins.” offered my high-gambling mother, her recent Mah-Jongg winnings making her cocky.

For the rest of the day, my mother’s words rang in my head, making me wonder if I should have accepted that Prozac from that therapist last week. 

While my mother was upstairs, I cornered Sophia in the kitchen.

“I’m not like Sanjaya.  Am I?” I stuttered anxiously, acting just like a person with a dependent personality structure.

“Well, maybe your mother has a point.” said Sophia.   “I think little girls like Sanjaya because he is safe and non-threatening.”

“Are you saying female bloggers think I’m safe and non-threatening?”

“Well…”

There was a silence heard around Redondo Beach.

“How can I be safe and non-threatening?!  I’m always writing about sex… about how I want to f**k them!”

“Yeah, well… sure… you write about it.   Sanjaya also wore a mohawk last night, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to be a punk rocker.”

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A Year Ago On Citizen of the Month:  The Best Teacher I Ever Had

Apology to the City of Portland

March 23, 2007 / / 28 Comments

I have many faults, but I try to own up to my mistakes, and apologize when warranted. I had a wonderful time in Portland. It is a beautiful city with excellent beer and fine citizens. I was especially impressed with Powell’s Bookstore, which I thought was even more impressive than the Strand Bookstore in New York. Unfortunately, I seemed to have angered many Portlandians when I mentioned in a previous post that Sophia and I saw only one black person in the entire city during our four days there, and this was the sax player in a fifteen member big band at a jazz club.

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Maybe I was wrong for bringing up this bit of random information on this blog, especially now that I know I was wrong.  There isn’t just one African-American in Portland.  There are TWO —

From the awful Donald Trump-produced Miss USA show on TV tonight — Miss Oregon from Portland

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Sophia: “Maybe it’s his daughter.”

Locomotive Breath

March 23, 2007 / / 30 Comments

There are some songs that you like because they are good, and some you like just because you associate them with a specific event or memory. I would never consider “Maneater” by Hall and Oates to be a rock classic, but it is memorable to me because it was playing on the radio when Jessica Neinbaum talked to me at a party.

Sometimes, the meaning of a song can change throughout time. “Locomotive Breath” is an old song by Jethro Tull. The reason this song is important to me is that it brings up memories of Camp Kinder-Ring in Sylvan Lake, New York. It was already an old song when I attended camp, but it was the favorite band of one of our camp counselors. Whenever we would practice basketball lay-ups before a game, this counselor would put this high energy song on the loudspeaker in order to energize us. The song became engraved in my mind as a “fight song” before a big game.

I loved summer camp, the song, and the lay-ups. It didn’t matter that I never got a lay-up IN the basket. I was a bad basketball player, despite being one of the tallest campers. Just to make it clear to you how bad I was — this was a JEWISH camp, and I was still one of the worst!

In truth, it was an odd choice for a fight song. Years later, in college, when I actually bought the album, “Aqualung,” and read the lyrics, I noticed how depressing the song actually was:

In the shuffling madness
of the locomotive breath,
runs the all-time loser,
headlong to his death.
He feels the piston scraping —
steam breaking on his brow —
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won’t stop going —
no way to slow down.

But who cares? It was one of the few Jethro Tull songs with a beat.

Fast forward to three weeks ago. Sophia and I were getting into the car with our luggage, about to go on our trip to Portland.

“One more thing!” I said as I ran back into the house and grabbed a random assortment of music CDs — rock, Latin, classical, jazz, etc. What type of road trip would it be without music?

As I drove up the 405, Sophia rifled through my assortment of CDs.

“What the hell is a Jethro Tull?”

I told her the story about doing lay-ups at my Jewish summer camp.

“Play it. It’s song number 10. Forget the rest of the album which I KNOW you will hate.”

Sophia played the song, and liked it. “Locomotive Breath” became the anthem to our trip. Every morning, as we would start the next leg of our trip, we would put on song number 10, “Locomotive Breath,” and blast it on the speakers.

He sees his children jumping off
at the stations — one by one.
His woman and his best friend —
in bed and having fun.
He’s crawling down the corridor
on his hands and knees —
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won’t stop going —
no way to slow down.

Gradually, the meaning of this song changed for me. It wasn’t about camp anymore. It was the THEME song to “Neil and Sophia’s Road Trip.”

70’s Progressive Rock.

Ian Anderson on the flute.

Separated husband and wife visiting bloggers in Portland.

It made sense. And maybe it was the bombastic theatricality of our 70’s theme song that inspired us to get stopped by the cops THREE times during our trip (twice for Sophia and once for me. Sophia was let off, of course. I got a ticket).

Jethro Tull made us into progressive rock rebels.

Last night, Sophia asked me to pick up some eggs at the supermarket. We’ve been home a few days now, and there is still nothing in the fridge. I’m embarrassed to say that I decided to drive the one block to the store. When I turned on the ignition, “Locomotive Breath” started playing on the speakers. One of us must have left the CD on when we left the car.

He hears the silence howling —
catches angels as they fall.
And the all-time winner
has got him by the balls.

I sang along in my garbled New York accent as I drove to Von’s Supermarket. I hadn’t gone half a block when I noticed a police car sitting at the corner of the street. He turned his siren and lights on.

“Pull over” he announced.

What was the problem? Get this — I didn’t have my seat-belt on!

Did he know who he was talking to? I follow every driving rule in the book. I always have my seat belt on! I was just driving one block… and Jethro Tull was distracting me!

The officer gave me a ticket… my second ticket in a week.

Locomotive Breathe. From now on, I will remember YOU as the song that made me into a criminal.

He picks up Gideons Bible —
open at page one —
old Charlie stole the handle and
the train won’t stop going —
no way to slow down.


(not Jethro Tull and definitely not me)

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: Neilochka Stalker

Nominee for 2007 Nobel Peace Prize

March 21, 2007 / / 21 Comments

 

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I received an email today asking if Sophia and I got along during our road trip.  And the answer is, “Yes.”  This is very surprising because we usually have our worst fights while on the road.  All the new stimuli can create a lot of tension.  So, what was different this time?  Did therapy help?  Prozac?  “The Secret?”

No. 

It is something I would like to nominate for the 2007 Nobel Peace Prize.

For generations, there has been war.  Each time a man and woman get together to travel to a new destination, the fragile harmony is always broken by bickering and verbal insults.

“Why don’t you ask for directions?” the woman asks, her voice shrill with nagging.

“I have a c**k, woman!” the hot-headed male responds.  “It will point me in the right direction.”

“It certainly had a lot of trouble pointing anywhere last night!” she answers, throwing the first grenade, signalling a readiness to use weapons of mass destruction on the male’s Achilles heel — his ego.  

Soon, the male brings up the female’s “weight,” which means only one thing —  all-out war. 

How many divorces have occurred over asking directions?   Throughout history, this event has occurred over and over again — on camels, on horse and buggies, on Volkswagen Bugs (I punch you).  The Trojan War — started over bad directions.   Henry VIII killed his third wife for constantly bringing up a right turn he made in London once when he was supposed to go left.

But now — FINALLY — there is peace and love on our modern highways and freeways.   There is fraternity among the sexes.   The automobile has become a friendly place again.  There is less fighting over directions, and more lovemaking in the backseat — all because of one invention.

The Future Winner of the 2007 Nobel Peace Prize — GPS Navigation!

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How can you argue over a robot chick with a pleasant voice who knows how to go EVERYWHERE? 

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  Really Extreme Makeover:  Home Edition

No Place Like Home

March 19, 2007 / / 32 Comments

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Sophia sometimes works with a interpreting and translation agency in Carmel, and she really likes the people who work there, but has never met any of them in person. So, today, after leaving San Francisco, we made a special detour just to visit the staff of Richard Schneider Enterprises in Carmel. Apparently, the bunch is as nice in person as they are on the phone. Have you ever seen a happier group of people? This is what you look like when you work in beautiful Carmel.

We were supposed to stay in Carmel for the night, but we decided we were homesick, even for ugly Los Angeles, so off we went… back home, fighting the traffic along the way.

So, we’re home! Home at last. It’s so wonderful to be looking out the window again, seeing the beautiful scenery and listening to the running water in the lovely creek outside our living room.

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Wait. That’s not a creek I hear. That’s the broken toilet upstairs. And that photo is not from Los Angeles. That’s a photo I took at Applegate Lake near Ashland, Oregon, right before we stopped at that little cafe and drank some hot apple cider. Over here, we look into the living room of the five surfer dudes who live next to us, the ones who blast Nirvana at 2AM in the morning and leave bottles of Corona on the street.

But it’s good to be home… no more sharing a laptop with Sophia, which means MORE blogging!

All in all, we had a great time on our West Coast Bloggers Tour 2007.

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It was a pleasure to meet so many of you. Now, it’s time to go to Danny’s and see the rest of my birthday cards and gifts! By the time I finish celebrating my birthday this year, it will be my NEXT birthday.

I apologize for not reading many blogs in the last two weeks. Now, it’s time for me to catch up with YOU. Once, when I went on vacation, I complained about finding it difficult to keep up with your blogs, and I asked you to help me keep connected by writing a quick summary of your lives in my comments.

Have you noticed that I didn’t ask you to do it for me during this trip?

The reason is that by now, I know you so well, I KNOW what you are writing about without having to actually read anything —

  • 4 of you are depressed.
  • 2 of you are having problems with your husband.
  • 3 of you are having trouble with your teenage daughter.
  • 2 of you are worried that your newborn baby is making you a boring person.
  • 2 of you are worried about drinking too much chardonnay with other mothers during playtime.
  • 4 of you need to get laid NOW!
  • 1 of you did get laid, and it wasn’t very good.
  • 3 of you are reading David Sedaris again.
  • 2 of you think “Gilmore Girls” has jumped the shark.
  • 2 of you are impressed with how the Google Reader is helping with your blog reading.
  • 3 of you got drunk for the third time this week.
  • 4 of you really hate George Bush.
  • 2 of you are writing poems about your depression.
  • 3 of you have been lazy and are just posting “funny” videos from YouTube.
  • 2 of you went on bad dates with men who falsely described themselves as taller and richer on Match.com.
  • 3 of you are badmouthing the “bitch” you ex-boyfriend is sleeping with.
  • 5 of you are writing about the new shoes you just bought.
  • 4 of you are describing your bikini wax.
  • 5 of you are saying that you met Sophia and me, and liked Sophia better.

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: LA is So Laid Back

City of Bitchin Beautiful Bloggers

March 18, 2007 / / 19 Comments

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City on the Bay.

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We had a great day today. It started out with us meeting Dagny and Buzzgirl. We had Sunday brunch (everyone in SF eats brunch), saw a lot of gay men with perfect bodies, met Buzzgirl’s sophisticated twelve year old daughter who mocked my French, and Buzzgirl took us on a tour of the “real” San Francisco that the tourists never see.

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At night, we went to a Thai restaurant with Stacy from Jurgen Nation and her super-smart boyfriend, Matt. Here is Stacy with her always-present Nikon camera. She loves taking photos so much, she even asked the restaurant manager if she could take photos of the interesting lanterns hanging in the adjacent room.

When we left the restaurant, some very talky homeless guy passed by and Matt quickly moved to block Stacy from any danger. I just stood there and watched. I didn’t even notice much, until Sophia told me how manly and gentlemanly she thought that was of Matt.  Thanks a lot, Matt. Next time we meet Stacy, I hope she leaves you at home.

Tomorrow — Carmel, then back to LA on Tuesday!

Kiss Me, I’m Irish (Not Really)

March 17, 2007 / / 17 Comments

At San Francisco’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade today —

(and we didn’t drink one beer all day)

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Sophia “Molly Bloom” Lansky

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James Joyce at work on his blog

I Parked My Car in San Francisco

March 16, 2007 / / 21 Comments

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Random Girl on San Francisco cable car:  “Hey, Neilochka.  C’mon over tonight with your Talking Penis and I’ll cook you guys some Rice-a-Roni, a San Francisco Treat!  Leave Sophia back at the hotel!”

Presents from Bloggers  – Napa – Mendocinio – Eureka – Redwoods – Oregon Coast – Portland – Ashland – and the longest birthday celebration ever continues with our arrival in San Francisco today.  We’re staying at the spiffy Omni Hotel, where the only option is parking your car for $48 a night!  $48 dollars a night!  I can stay at a Motel 6 for the same price as parking my car.  Luckily, it is the weekend, and I found a nearby garage where I can park my car for twelve dollars a night.

I mentioned in my last post that Sophia was stopped twice by Oregon Highway Patrol and smiled her way out of each ticket.  Today, it was my turn to drive the six hours from Ashland to San Francisco.

Sophia:  “You’re driving 65 on the freeway.”

Neil:  “You’re supposed to drive 65 on the freeway.”

Sophia:  “No one drives 65 on the freeway.  It’s dangerous.  Everyone is passing you.” 

Neil:  “I don’t want to be stopped by the police.”

Sophia: “No one is going to stop you if you stay the same speed as everyone else.  I want to get to San Francisco today.”

A half hour later, in the Mount Shasta area of California, I noticed the twirling lights of the Highway Patrol in my rear view mirror.  I pulled over.  An officer slowly walked to my window.  I kept my hands on the steering wheel so he doesn’t think I’m armed.  I smiled nervously.  This was the FIRST TIME I”ve ever been stopped on the freeway. 

And yes, I received my first traffic ticket, despite my smiling.   Thank you very much, Sophia!  So much for my perfect status as a Citizen of the Month.

There Are More Black People on American Idol than in the Entire City of Portland

March 15, 2007 / / 41 Comments

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1)  There are more black people on American Idol than in the entire city of Portland.  

I like Portland.  It looks like an Edward Hopper painting, a little dark and depressed.  The city is chock full of old neon signs and from the outside, the city seems like it hasn’t changed in fifty years (although the old tannery is now a trendy bistro)…. but maybe the city has TOO much of a 1950’s feel.   I’ve never seen so many white faces in my life.  On Thursday night, we went to a jazz club that Ellen Bloom recommended called Jimmy Mak’s and saw one black guy, the sax player in a fifteen piece band.  That’s ONE black guy in a Jazz Band, in a Jazz Club, in an entire city, in four days!

2)  We’ve met Portland’s finest bloggers.

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Lani and Patry (photo stolen from Lani because mine was too dark)

After meeting the charming Chantel at Tequilacon, we made it a mission to meet other Portland bloggers.  We had dinner with blogging friend Alexandra (who baked us some delicious cake) and then attended a literary salon at the home of the uber-talented writer/illustrator Lani.   The meeting was in honor of Cape Cod-based blogger Patry, who is on tour promoting her first novel, The Liar’s Club.   It was inspirational hearing Patry talk about her book, which I can’t wait to read.  Laini also talked about her forthcoming book, Faeries of Dreamdark.   It was wonderful hearing about the successes of fellow bloggers!  (Yeah, right.  I hate them!)

3)  It is official.  Sophia has the “X” factor.

I drive as slow as an old woman.  Sophia drives like a Nascar racer.  She was stopped TWICE by the Oregon highway patrol, but both times she was let go WITH just a WARNING!   Why does that never happen to me?

4)  Sophia and I are punching each other.

Danny’s daughter, Leah, taught us a driving game that is more current than “Geography.”  I forget what it is called, but you basically can punch the other person whenever you see a Volkswagen Beetle.  The score so far:  Sophia – 7, Neil – 3.

5)  High culture — feh!

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We’re currently staying in Ashland, Oregon, which is a cute little town in the Southern part of the state.  We’re staying at this offbeat hundred-year old hotel that looks like something out of “The Shining.”  The main excitement in town is that it is the home to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.    So, what did we see at the Shakespeare festival?  A bad Tom Stoppard farce.  However, tonight, there is Shakespeare playing at the Shakespeare festival , but we are choosing to go to the Oregon Cabaret Theater to see some dumb little musical called “Men on Ice,” about a fishing hole in Milwaukee.

6)  Water.

We’ve seen a lot of water — the ocean, lakes,rivers and creeks.  Being a Pisces, I should like water, but Sophia is the one who’s always dragging me to drive an hour and a half to see some creek.  We had a long discussion today, and decided that rivers and creeks are the coolest of all bodies of water.

7)  Soap Opera to Go.

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Sophia and I keep up with “All My Children” via our nifty “Hava” machine plugged into our DVR at home.

8)  We’re not done yet.

Tomorrow, we are off to San Francisco — and meeting more bloggers.

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