Citizen of the Month

the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Category: Los Angeles (Page 5 of 16)

Crazy Aunt Purl Night in LA

October 12, 2007 / / 27 Comments

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When we got to Barnes and Noble for Laurie’s first leg of her book tour, the third floor reading area was already jammed. It was standing room only. The obsessive knitters had already taken all the seats, having camped outside to see the Beatles… I mean Crazy Aunt Purl.

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It made me wonder if these women are allowed on airplanes with those knitting needles. I recognized a few bloggers, such as Ellen Bloom.

Sophia had just gotten her hair done yesterday, and was looking like a Princess.

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And Princesses don’t stand, even for book readings from bloggers.

Sophia: I don’t really want to stand in the back for the entire event.

Neil: What do you want me to do?

Sophia: Find me a chair.

Neil: Well, I’m not a magician. There’s no more chairs.

Sophia sighed.

She disappeared and low and behold — returned carrying a tiny child’s bench from the children’s book section.

Neil: What did you do? Kick some child off of that bench?

Sophia: Yes. Children need to learn — adults first!

(OK, she didn’t really say that, but I imagined her saying it) And, honestly, her chutzpah is why I married her!

I took the bench from Sophia and placed it behind the last row.

Sophia: Oh no, I’m not sitting in the back. All I can see from this tiny bench is everyone’s behinds.

Sophia does not like sitting in the back of anything. She insists that we always buy the expensive orchestra seats at the theater. Before I met her, I used to sit in the last row of the balcony, which she calls the helicopter pad. She even likes to sit in the front row of comedy clubs. I usually clench my teeth for the first five minutes of every comedy act, fearful that one of the comedians will start talking to me.

Sophia lifted the bench, and carried it — to the isle next to the front row!

Laurie was terrific in her book reading. She is funny and has a real sexy Southern accent. That voice can melt any man’s heart.

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A Southern shiksa goddess if there ever was one!

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(more photos at Ellen’s site)

After the reading, and the Q and A, the moderator said we should get in line to get our books signed — starting in the front. She pointed first to the couple sitting in front on a tiny brightly-colored bench stolen from the children’s section. We were going to have the very first book signed by Laurie on the very first day of her tour!

So, Laurie’s book tour began. The moderator made us put a post-it on the book with my name on it, but Laurie recognized me. After we hugged, she asked me if I wanted her to write “To Hot Stuff,” in the book, remembering something I wrote on my blog two days ago. I introduced her to Sophia, and Laurie immediately seemed more interested in Sophia than me, which is usually the case.

“Sophia!” Laurie cried. “What an honor. And you’re even so much more beautiful in real life than you are in your photos.”

Laurie wrote the perfect message in my book, something about “me” and “being her” and “favorite blogger,” but it’s personal, so I’m not going to say anything.

Her book is titled Crazy Aunt Purl’s Drunk, Divorced, and Covered in Cat Hair: The True-Life Misadventures of a 30-Something Who Learned to Knit After He Split. It is funny and emotional book, and you don’t need to know anything about knitting to get into it. I have zero interest in knitting. Or cats. But I do like good stories.

Special thanks to Sophia for getting us up front and first. Sometimes you DO have to steal from children to get what you need.

The task accomplished, Sophia and I went out for some fried okra… I mean sushi.

Cliquish Blog Post About Other Bloggers I Like

October 10, 2007 / / 35 Comments

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(Leah, I’m stealing this photo you took to give
others a false sense of my sophistication. )

On Friday night, I saw the musical “Wicked” at the Pantages Theater with Wendy from Quiet About Alot of Things.    Although Wendy lives in Colorado, she grew up in Pasadena, and came to town for her high school reunion. 

Although I didn’t find Wicked’s music that memorable, the story was fantastic.  It is based on a novel by Gregory Maguire, and is a revisionist re-telling of “The Wizard of Oz.  The Wicked Witch is the moral heroine, the Good Witch is a bimbo, and the Wizard of Oz is a selfish, power-hungry tyrant.  It all works perfectly and makes you feel as if the Judy Garland movie is nothing more than a propaganda film.  I’m a big fan of the Wizard of Oz, but I always felt there was something sinister about the Wizard, especially the way he hid behind his curtain.

Do bloggers hide behind curtains?   I love meeting bloggers because I get to see them without the smoke and mirrors of their blog posts.  I don’t suggest that we are sinister behind the scenes, but that we can only show a representation of ourselves in our writing.   Most of us hide behind curtains, even in real life.  Part of the reason I’m in therapy now is that I’m trying to peek behind MY OWN curtain.  I think we sometimes would rather see our own superficial self-image than confront who we really are inside.

If I read someone’s work, I usually get a sense of their character from the page.  What is surprising is how much MORE the person is in real life, as if the real Wizard has just stepped out from behind his curtain.

I talked a little bit about this with Wendy because I visualized her to be slightly different than she turned out to be.  On the page, she is very introspective, and she writes very evocative, sensual poetry.  I imagined her as a pretty, but somber Poetess, perhaps someone who wears a lot of black.  I did not expect a feisty dynamo of a woman jumping out of her rental convertible, her hair flying in the wind, someone who relaxes at home by showjumping horses competitively!  Which one is the real HER?  Probably BOTH of them!   She is a MOMMY and a WIFE and an ATHLETE and a POET.  I really enjoyed hearing her stories.  I might write “spicy” stories on my blog, but believe me — there are some who have actually LIVED them!  (I’m not going to mention anyone’s name, Wendy, and ruin their innocent reputation)

On Saturday night, a group of bloggers got together in LA to welcome the very cool Heather B from No Pasa Nada, who was visiting California.   She seems to know everyone in the blogosphere.  I’ve met Leah and Abigail before, and they are both really wonderful people.   Leah — who organized the LA Bloggers Live  group — always seems to be working on some new creative project.  Here is her new Leahpeah Store!    She took some nice photos of our meeting, like the one on top.   I recently kicked Abigail’s ass on Facebook’s Scrabble.   Next time, I need to be a little more careful because her confidence is strong after winning five thousand dollars on a game show.

I didn’t know Heather from Nabbalicious until recently.   Her photography is terrific.  I expected her to be very chic and artsy in person, but I didn’t expect her to be a little… klutzy, in a sexy, Lucille Ball kind of way.  She walked around all night at the Grove and the crowded Farmer’s Market with this beautiful, expensive camera around her neck, looking very professional, but she also had a habit of poking random strangers in the back with with her zoom lens.   Now, that’s sort of goofy, but hot. 

Sophia liked this photo that Heather took of me.   

Probably, my biggest surprise of the evening was Joe, Leah’s husband.   First of all, I tend to avoid talking to men when there are four beautiful women around.  The first time I met him, I was under the impression that his blog was mostly about PHP code, which is about exciting to me as… well, PHP code.   But I was totally wrong.   Joe’s been blogging before “blogging” was even a word.  Even though there is a lot of tech stuff on his blog, there is also a good amount of heart-felt personal stuff, including recent posts about his mother and her health.  His blog is also the perfect place to sneak a view of what Leah looked like in 2002.

The next blogger I’m scheduled to see in person is Laurie of Crazy Aunt Purl.  She starts her book tour on Thursday, October 11th at the Barnes and Nobel at the Grove at 7:30 PM, right across from the restaurant where I met the other bloggers.   When we passed the bookstore, I told Heather B. about Laurie’s book signing.  Heather spoke about Laurie’s amazing writing talent, and how popular she is with her readers.   I had to laugh to myself because if I had known about Laurie’s popularity, I would have feared approaching her, much like Dorothy meeting the scary Wizard of Oz.  Instead, the first time I accidentally came to her blog I noticed a photo of the Farmer’s Market, where she is involved in Stitch N’ Bitch.  I emailed her, excited to see this location in a photo, because it is one of my favorite places in LA.  After she responded, I immediately started to flirt with her, as I tend to do, making mention of some sexy boots she was wearing.  At first, I didn’t even bother to read her blog.  Who wants to read a blog about knitting and cats?  Is there anything more girly?  However, once I started reading her blog, I realized that Laurie had a lot more to say underneath it all.  She doesn’t just write about knitting.  She has a unique way of combining humor and emotion, so you laugh while getting a glimpse behind the “curtains” of her personality.   I remember thinking to myself, “This blog should be more popular because it is so good.  I really should tell people about it,” imagining a shy woman who is writing just for herself and her cats.   And then I noticed she was getting like 300 comments a day.   Oops.

(Laurie, no need for any thank you for this public service announcement about your book tour, but I wouldn’t mind a photo of you wearing those boots for my personal collection  — and please write my name as “Hot Stuff” when you sign my copy of your book tomorrow)

Why Doesn’t Los Angeles Have a Local Tyrant?

September 25, 2007 / / 14 Comments

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As a former New Yorker living in Los Angeles, I sometimes feel envious of all the advantages of living in New York. Although LA has Hollywood, and I’ve seen David Schwimmer buying brown rice in Whole Foods, it seems as if all the really cool actors, like Robert DeNiro, live in New York. New York has hip David Letterman. We have blah Jay Leno. New York has Woody Allen. We have Paris and Perez Hilton.

Now, New York is abuzz with all the attention from the President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad – Columbia University forum/publicity stunt. It’s not fair. Where are the civic leaders of Los Angeles? Where is our local tyrant? Get off your asses, UCLA and USC. Forget football. It is time for people to take Los Angeles seriously. We’re not just bad sitcoms and fake tits.

Here’s a suggestion. Invite Kim Jong-il of North Korea to speak here! Let him become our local tyrant.

Do it for UCLA or USC. Do it for Los Angeles!

Tashlich

September 14, 2007 / / 20 Comments

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I don’t believe in Jesus being resurrected. I don’t believe Muhammed was a prophet. Why should I believe in the validity of the stories that are told in synagogue?

I don’t.   Or I at least take most of what I hear with a grain of salt.  Or I explain away things as allegory.  I don’t consider myself religious (although Sophia says I am — why?).  I do, however, appreciate the fact that religion deals with the big issues of life, and by that I don’t mean which young actress is or isn’t anorexic or just out of rehab.  Religious or not, as a storyteller, I do like stories, especially fanciful ones, and religion is filled with tons of them.  I don’t see “fiction” as less real than “reality.”  It just is another version of reality.  As I’ve mentioned in other posts, I treat the posts where I talk to my Penis as seriously as I do any other.   It is both untrue and very true.  In religion, symbolism and rituals can speak a truth far more important than reality.   I think Judaism has some really great symbolism and ritual.   I would be bored being an atheist.  That “story” would flop at the box-office.

I also think it is important for the non-traditional and not-very-religious to take an active role in religion. Can you think of anything worse than the world’s religions being run by people who are seriously ultra-RELIGIOUS — those who are totally convinced of their own beliefs?  I’m pretty sure we all can come come up with plenty of examples of how religion — and religious intolerance —  has screwed up mankind throughout history.  If I meet someone who is positive that their religion is “the one and only true one” or if this person has absolutely NO DOUBTS about their faith, I run the other way. 

That said, I love Rosh Hashanah.  It is all about renewal and hope for a better new year, for “being inscribed favorably in the Book of Life”.  It is also about making amends, thinking over your wrongs, and about how everyone’s sins are inter-related; about taking upon yourself the “sins” of everyone in the community.

Yesterday, we went to South Coast Botanical Gardens rather than the ocean,  to observe the ancient tradition of Tashlich -“tossing away our sins”, but this being Los Angeles, the lake at the gardens was closed for some dull-looking Showtime TV show that was being shot at the location.

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I was ready to leave but Sophia, being Sophia, schmoozed with the bored sound man and he showed us how we can get around to the other side of the lake for Tashlich.

Rabbinic tradition states that it was preferable to go to a body of water containing fish, since “man cannot escape God’s judgement any more than fish can escape being caught in a net; we are just as likely to be ensnared and trapped at any moment as is a fish”. Another rabbinic interpretation that also prefers a body of water containing fish to perform Tashlich states that “the fish’s dependence on water symbolizes the Jews’ dependence on God, as a fish’s eyes never close, God’s watchful eyes never cease”. However, since Tashlikh or Tashlich or Tashlik is merely a symbolic ceremony, any body of water will suffice, even if it is water that runs from a hose or from a water faucet.

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On Rosh Hashanah, Jews also recognize that God is above Time, and the idea of “forgetting” does not apply to Him, nor is He limited in “understanding” the inner thoughts of His creatures. Nevertheless, we ask that He “remember” only the “good” in our behalf when He Judges us.

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For the Jewish People in particular, we ask that He “remember” the early loyalty of our People, who followed Him as a bride, as He said “I remember your youthful devotion, the love of your bridal days, how you followed Me through the desert, in a barren land” (Yirmiyahu 2:2)

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Judaism’s central prayer: Sh’ma Israel, Adonai Elohainu, Adonai Ehad. “Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One.”

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A blogger asked me why Jews wear yarmulkes, or kippahs in temple.

The uniqueness of a Jewish head covering is hinted at in the blessing we say every morning, thanking God for “crowning Israel with splendor” (Talmud – Brachot 60b)

Historically, in Eastern cultures, it is a sign of respect to cover the head (the custom in Western cultures is the opposite: it is a sign of respect to remove one’s hat). Thus, by covering the head during prayer, one showed respect for God. In addition, in ancient Rome, servants were required to cover their heads while free men did not; thus, Jews covered their heads to show that they were servants of God.

The Talmud says that the purpose of wearing a kippah is to remind us of God, who is the Higher Authority is “above us” (Kiddushin 31a). External actions create internal awareness; wearing a symbolic, tangible “something above us” reinforces that idea that God is always watching. The kippah is a means to draw out one’s inner sense of respect for God.

(sometimes, when you’re outside, Sophia’s hat will do, even if it looks totally dorky.  I must have to explain away wearing this hat as a “sin” next year, at least a fugly one.)

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Rosh Hashanah is the Jewish New Year, but even if you’re not Jewish, September always feels like a new year, with school starting and fall approaching.    Hopefully it will be a “sweet” year for everyone.

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Idea for Rosh Hashanah 2008 — To make going to temple more interactive, I suggest a new prayer book in which certain prayers have missing lyrics, and congregants have to guess the missing words to the prayers to win prizes such as bagels and lox at Canter’s Deli.

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A Little Night Music

September 10, 2007 / / 30 Comments

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the original Playbill from the 70’s

Yesterday, Sophia and I went to the South Coast Rep in Orange County to see Stephen Sondheim’s “A Little Night Music.”  The musical, one of Sondheim’s more popular shows,  is based on “Smiles of a Summer Night” by Ingmar Bergman, who just died in July.   This was a first class theater production, something that usually doesn’t go hand-in-hand with the term “Orange County,” home of the Country Bear Jamboree and Medieval Times. “  We really liked it and would recommend seeing it.

“A Little Night Music” is a beautiful musical from the 1970s, more of an operetta than a traditional song-and-dance show, and it is most famous for the song “Send in the Clowns.”  I really love Sondheim’s musicals.  I remember seeing “Sweeney Todd” when I was younger, and it still is the best Broadway show I ever saw.  Mamma Mia doesn’t deserve to appear on the same stage.  (read Billy Mernit’s take on Sondheim)

Before the show, Sophia and I met up with the super-talented Secret Agent Josephine and  her cute daughter, Baby Bug at a hipster vegetarian restaurant.   I had met SAJ at her recent art show, but Sophia couldn’t make it to the show, so I promised to introduce her eventually —


“You Must Meet My Wife” from A Little Night Music

There was another matter at our hand.  I had bought a print of SAJ’s work and she had promised to sign it for me.  

 

She even went one step further — she wrote a personal poem on the back of the picture frame. 

My Ode to Neilochka

To my dear Neilochka
What would I do without cha!
You IM’ed with speed
In my time of need
You said, “Don’t be scared!
Who cares about dog hair?!”
And you were right
The show was outta sight!
I’m glad you were there
Even if you just wanted to touch Whoorl‘s hair
I can’t think of no other I’d want my art to go to
So, thank you, THANK YOU!

Cute, huh? 

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SAJ and Sophia (photo completely stolen from SAJ’s site)

It was amazing watching a mother writing, eating, and entertaining her child all without missing a beat.   What a juggling act.  How do you new mothers find five minutes to even blog?   SAJ did ask me at one point to take a “walk” with her child while she finished writing her poem.   Baby Bug and I walked to the front counter together.  I have very little experience with young children, and I was terrified that I was going to do something wrong, like accidentally lose the baby in some soup vat.  Instead, Baby Bug pretty much ignored me until I leaned over and made a funny face at her, which immediately caused her to run over to her mother, crying.

All in all, it was a great day — meeting a blogger and baby AND seeing some theater.  There was only one bump in the road.  During intermission, Sophia and I had a heated discussion over an important piece of theater etiquette.  I open it for discussion:

Imagine your theater seats are in the middle of the row.  The row is filled with theater-goers at their seats.  You say, “Excuse me,” and start making your way to the center of the row.  Is it better to walk in facing the stage, with your ASS facing everyone in the row, or should you slide in, facing the row, sticking your groin under the nose of each seated patron?   Which is the proper etiquette? 

I Want You Back

September 5, 2007 / / 38 Comments

Friday was the second anniversary of my father’s death. I haven’t been very good at keeping the Jewish traditions that are there to honor the dead. I was supposed to have gone to temple every day for a whole year, and I never did. I’ve only been to the grave site twice, because the cemetery is in New York.

This year, I decided to light the Yarzheit (memorial) candle on the anniversary of the death. I was anxious about making the moment “spiritual,” something I’m not very good at doing, and I found myself feeling cranky as sunset approached. Sophia was planting flowers on the patio, and all I could think was:

“Why was she planting NOW — right before this important moment?! Couldn’t she show my father some respect?! There’s dirt everywhere outside”

Of course, I wasn’t really mad at her, but at myself. What am I supposed to say when I lit the candle? What am I supposed to think that’s meaningful? I didn’t just want to rush through the prayer, and I was dependent on Sophia to help me get through the candle lighting. And the whole moment just felt wrong. I wasn’t ready for it. I told Sophia I was leaving the house and heading for the beach. I thought the ocean would be inspirational. I left the house without lighting the candle.

At the beach, I watched some surfers. I thought less about my father, than about the closing days of “summer.” By next week, kids would be going back to school. Soon it would be Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year. By October, the colorful knit sweaters would be reappearing. My local CVS Pharmacy even had their Halloween costumes already on display!

I wish I could tell you that the ocean caused me to become poetic about the moment. It wouldn’t have been difficult to make the connection between the changing of the seasons and the cycle of life itself — birth, death, and renewal — metaphors that have been used in everything from Shakespeare to “The Lion King.” But, for me –the beach was just the beach, although it was fun to see the surfers packing up their surfboards and heading home, the boards on the heads. My father would have gotten a kick out of watching them. He was stationed in Hawaii during his time in the Army, so I’m sure he’s seen some surfing himself (and would have been as unlikely to do any surfing as I am).

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On the way home, some oldies station played, “I Want You Back,” by the Jackson Five.

Oh baby, give me one more chance
(To show you that I love you)
Won’t you please let me back in your heart
Oh darlin’, I was blind to let you go
(Let you go, baby)
But now since I’ve seen you it is on
(I want you back)
Oh I do now
(I want you back)
Ooh ooh baby
(I want you back)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
(I want you back)
Na na na na

I know the song is about a boy wanting a girl, but it also made me think of my father.

“I Want You Back.”

Isn’t that exactly what I would say to him if I could speak to him in person?

After the song, I went back home and lit the candle.

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: Let’s Stop Ladies’ Night

Burned by Coffee

August 25, 2007 / / 43 Comments

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It’s one of the oldest stories — a guy or gal has a big date that night, so she looks into the mirror, and sees a huge zit! Horrors!

I don’t have a zit, but it looks like I have a cold sore. But I DON’T HAVE A COLD SORE! It just looks like a cold sore. What I have is the aftermath of a coffee burn on my lip. Honestly!

Tonight, I’m going to see Secret Agent Josephine‘s gallery show of dog paintings. She is a popular California blogger and many other bloggers will be there. And I mean glamorous female bloggers. I will be meeting most of them for the first time, and what will be the first thing they will notice — my coffee burn! And they will think it is a cold sore. And they will write about it in their blogs tomorrow:

“Secret Agent Josephine’s show was a big success. Many bloggers were there. Lovely Whoorl was there with her beautiful baby. Therapy-going Neilochka was there also, with his cold sore.”

It is NOT a cold sore. It is a coffee burn.

As a preventive measure, I think it is essential that I tell you how I got this coffee burn on my lip. After I tell you this story, you will realize that I am telling the truth:

A few weeks ago, a local independent filmmaker emailed me. He said he liked my blog and wanted to talk to me about possibly putting together some story pitches together for a producer. We met, liked each other, and decided to give it a try. After a week, we didn’t accomplish much more than coming up with a few titles stolen from other movies.

“Not from the makers of “Knocked Up,” It’s “Knocked Off!”

Yesterday, we decided to meet at his home and finally get to work. For eight hours we hashed out story ideas, in between drinking lots of coffee and playing Trivial Pursuit. By the end of the day, we were exhausted. On the way home, I felt my eyes closing as I was driving on the freeway (we live 45 minutes apart). I decided to pull off and get myself a cup of coffee. I was happy to notice an In-N-Out Burger down the block. If you are unfamiliar with this chain, it is because they are mostly on the West Coast. They are my favorite local burger joint. Unlike the bigger fast-food chains, they make their burgers fresh. Although it can take twice as long to get your burger than at McDonald’s, the hamburgers actually taste like meat.

I ordered a cheeseburger with onions, and a cup of coffee. I couldn’t wait to eat that burger! I don’t have fancy tastes. Although I enjoy all types of food, nothing is as comforting as a hamburger, a slice of pizza, a bagel, or a good tuna fish sandwich. I picked up my newly-made burger from the high school kid behind the counter, sat down at one of the faux 1950’s plastic booths and dove in!

Thank you Harry and Esther Snyder, creators of In-N-Out!

From Wikipedia:

In-N-Out’s first location was opened on October 22, 1948 by Harry and Esther Snyder at the northwest corner of what is now the intersection of Interstate 10 and Francisquito Avenue in the Los Angeles suburb of Baldwin Park, California.

All ethnic groups take pride in the accomplishments of their own. African-Americans are proud of Barack Obama. Asians appreciate that Daniel Dae Kim is considered a sex symbol on Lost. Jews are no different. Even my mother knows that Spock’s Vulcan sign is something he saw at an orthodox synagogue as a child.

“I knew Spock was Jewish,” my mother used to say. “He was the smart one.”

Unfortunately, the Jewish community is somewhat ashamed of William Shatner.

Harry and Esther Snyder: clearly mishpucha (Yiddish for family). To me, McDonald’s is Church of Scotland (McDonald’s), Wendy’s is Presbyterian, and Jack-in-the-Box is Roman Catholic, with “Jack” running the show from his Vatican-like headquarters.

In-N-Out is Jewish.  Harry and Esther Snyder?  I actually have an aunt and uncle named Harry and Esther.

I sometimes wondered if they know I’m Jewish, too, which would explain why their service people are so nice to me. Whenever I order a burger, the worker at the register always smiles at me with a knowing look and asks “Would you like some onions with that?” in the same caring tone that my mother uses when she asks if I would like an extra matzo ball in my soup during Passover.

In-N-Out hamburgers are very cleverly wrapped, with two pieces of waxed paper folded around the burger to prevent spillage. I quickly ate half of my burger and then started drinking my coffee, remembering that my original reason for stopping here was to get some coffee, not to eat a cholesterol heavy burger. As I took a sip from my coffee cup, I noticed something very unusual written on the bottom of the outer hamburger wrapper:

Revelations 3:10.

WTF? Revelations 3:10?! New Testament messages on my burger wrapper at my favorite Jewish burger chain?

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My brain went into overload, unaware that I was about to take another sip of burning hot coffee, and mistakenly missed my mouth. Instead, I spilled the scalding liquid right on my lip, later causing a blister.

“Ouch!”

It turns out Harry and Esther Snyder are not mishpucha, but Christian fanatics who put weird Bible messages on their products and then purposely give extra hot coffee to their non-Christian customers.

Would I make this story up? It is a coffee burn that I have, not a cold sore!

From Wikipedia (why did I never notice this before?):

In-N-Out prints discreet references to Bible verses on their paper utensils. The print is small and out of the way, and only contains the book, chapter and verse numbers, not the actual text of the passages. The practice began in the 1980s during Rich Snyder’s presidency, a reflection of the Christian beliefs held by the Snyder family.

Burger and cheeseburger wrappers

Revelation 3:20—”Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me.”

Beverage cups and antenna toppers

John 3:16—”For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

Milkshake cups

Proverbs 3:5—”Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.”

Double-Double wrapper

Nahum 1:7—”The LORD is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him.”

Paper water cups, or “R-9’s”

John 14:6—”Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”

Next time, I’m going to Canter’s Jewish Deli for my coffee.

Three Tidbits from This Morning

August 1, 2007 / / 23 Comments

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8AM —

Every morning, when I turn my IM on, I see Alissa online, probably from her office.  She can see me online at the same time.  For weeks, we just stared at each other, neither wanting to bother the other.  I knew she was there and she knew that I was there.  Eventually, it just made me feel uncomfortable.  It was time to take some action —

Neil (via IM):  “Alissa, we have to do something about this.  We both see each other.  We both know we’re online.  It just seems rude to not say anything.  Isn’t there some sort of IM etiquette that we can follow?”

Alissa:  “I don’t think so.”

We came up with a plan.  We decided it was OK to say “Hello… but now I’m going to ignore you,” the online equivalent of the friendly, but superficial “hello” you might get from someone in the office.

It works for us.  I think we should all use this technique when we go on IM.  Isn’t it better to say, “Hi, but I’m now going to ignore you,” rather than just ignoring someone in silence?

8:30AM —

While in Starbucks this morning, I sat next to two guys reading the sports section of the LA Times… about Barry Bonds.   Dodger Stadium has been sold out this week because the Giants are in town and Barry Bonds is just one home run away from tying the record of Hank Aaron.  But so far, Bonds hasn’t hit any home runs in Los Angeles.

Guy #1:   “I think the Dodgers are doing it on purpose… throwing bad pitches at him.”
Guy #2:   “Yeah?”
Guy#1:    “It is Major League Baseball. The guys in power don’t want Barry Bonds to succeed. They don’t want him to hit a home run.”
Guy #2:   “The steroids thing?”
Guy#1:   “Nah. It’s because he’s black. And they don’t want to a black man to be the record-holder.”

9AM —

I think it is apparent that I’m a little down over my situation with Sophia.  I’ve been trying to think positive thoughts, like in “The Secret,” hoping that laws of attraction will bring me some good news.  When I came back from Starbucks, I heard Sophia calling to me from upstairs:

“Neil, you got a call from CBS!”

“CBS?!” I asked myself,  “What could this mean?  Is CBS reading my blog and now they want to offer me a sitcom based on my life?  Do they want to hire me to be a writer?  As a producer?  Do they want to sponsor BlogHim and make it into a reality show, with me as the host?

I ran upstairs, three steps at a time, reaching Sophia in five seconds flat. I was out of breath.

“CBS called?  What did they say?  What did they want?!”

“CBS called?” asked Sophia. “No.  I said CVS called.  Your cholesterol medicine is ready.”

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  Los Angeles: The Glamorous Life

Table Settings: A Story Pitch for a Screenplay

July 30, 2007 / / 28 Comments

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Do you see how white I become after three days of not shaving?

Meet Bob. He lives in Redondo Beach. He’s a…uh… an accountant… but a loveable one. Imagine a cross between Tom Hanks, Luke Wilson, and Perez Hilton. One day, his girlfriend suggests he move out. He is distraught. He turns to his friends for help, but most of his friends are female and too busy getting ready to attend AccountantHer. When he asks if he can go to AccountantHer with them, they laugh at him. No man goes to AccountantHer! This makes Bob feel even more alone. He wanders the streets until he finds himself at a County Fair.

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Bob may be alone, but this photo was taken by Sophia.

At the fair, he stumbles onto something he has never heard of — the table setting competition. Different “artists” compete by creating themes for their table settings. Bob is fascinated by this unique artform. He has found his calling. He decides that HE will become THE next table setting champion of America and regain his confidence.

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He tells all his friends about his new dream, and they mock him, calling him “a dreamer.” Just when Bob is about to give up, he meets Mrs. Migashi, a mild-mannered health food store owner from Torrance, California, who just happens to be a famous table setter from Kyoto, and an expert in the Japanese form of this art. Mrs. Migashi does not have a son, and has always wanted to impart her wisdom to someone worthy of her knowledge.

“Teach me everything you know,” says Bob.

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Bob immediately takes to the art, creating artistic table settings based on exotic locales and scenes from movies. He is especially proud of his dessert table titled “Lord of the Ring-Dings.”

Mrs. Migashi is not impressed.

“Table setting is not about throwing random paint around, like a Jackson Pollock painting.” she slowly says, educating him. “It requires discipline. Did you know that the dinner plate MUST be exactly one inch from the edge of the table? Or that points will be deducted if the knife does not perfectly align with the center of the water glass? Do you know the correct position and direction of the dessert spoon? Did you even know there WAS a dessert spoon?”

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This one might have done better than 3rd Place if the artist didn’t use The Two Buck Chuck (the two dollar Trader Joe’s wine).

“But how will I ever learn all these things about table settings?” asks Bob. “How will I ever be ready for the National Championship in Tucson, Arizona?”

“You must focus.” says Mrs. Migashi. “You must wash my dishes every night, for two months, give me foot massages every other night, and take care of all my needs whenever I make a “booty call.”

“What does this have to do with table settings?” asks Bob.

“Do not question the master!” she shouts.

Two months and many booty calls later, Bob wins the National Tablesetting Championship, and regains his confidence.

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A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: Sex Advice for Men

The Guest Bloggers

July 23, 2007 / / 30 Comments

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It was inevitable. Our beautiful patio that I have been writing about for weeks, the beautiful locale that produced the lovely flowers and tasty tomatoes, had became a place that required “work” and produced “conflict.” All of a sudden, there were issues to be resolved:

Who is responsible for watering the plants?

Who should take care of the minutia of problems that crop up with live plants and flowers?

Who should get rid of the pigeons that have set up a permanent nest on our roof and no matter what we do, come back and crap on everything?

Who should rid the patio of the two wasp hives that have suddenly developed outside?

Who should spray the patio with scary pesticides after a quarter of of our plants have been eaten by pests? (I did — wearing a mask, goggles and winter hat to protect myself from the fumes!)

And who’s at fault for a broken pot — the one who tripped over it or the one who put it in the “wrong” place?

When I told Finn and Charming with Single about this, they suggested that the garden is a metaphor for marriage. What starts out all fun and romantic, falls apart if taken for granted. Like everything else, it NEEDS WORK to thrive.

All this drama has affected my blog writing. Have you ever been in a really bad mood or so upset at your wife that you couldn’t focus on writing a post, so you decided to ask someone to write a “guest post” for you?

Unfortunately, I had trouble deciding on who to ask to “substitute” for me at my blog. After all, who amongst you could maintain the usual high quality of “Citizen of the Month.” I certainly don’t want you plastering photos of your snot-filled babies or your LOLcats all over the place. (to my detractors — posting photos of Sophia holding out tomatoes is a completely different thing. Great writers and poets have been writing about gardens and the symbolism of vegetation since the beginning of time).

I walked to my local Starbucks, hoping to be inspired by all the conversation around me, but all I could think about was the same thing that had been on mind all day — why would Sophia (expurgated) when I told her that (expurgated), since — tell me if I’m wrong — isn’t marriage supposed to be (expurgated)?

“Screw it, ” I told myself. I don’t want to write anything today. If I had my druthers, I would just throw in another photo of Sophia in a dress, but then those literary NY bloggers will stop reading me, thinking me too superficial and “LA.”

So, I still needed a post, but I was dry. I had no one to turn to. So, I had an idea. Why not just pass my laptop to the Asian guy sitting next to me in Starbucks? I’m sure he can write a decent post for “Citizen of the Month.” It certainly couldn’t be worse than letting ONE OF YOU do a guest post!

Neil:   “Hey, what’s your name?”

Matt:   “Matt.”

Neil:   “What do you do, Matt?”

Matt:   “I’m a graduate student in economics at UCLA.”

Neil:   “Great. Here’s the laptop. Write about anything you want. My readers are curious to hear your views.”

The Love of a Woman by Matt (guest-blogging for Citizen of the Month)

Love sucks. Love is like a virus that first attacks the brain, then the heart. It destroy everything inside of you, until you are left dead and decaying on the hot pavement, the only sound that you can hear coming from your old apartment, as your ex-girlfriend screws that new guy she met, screaming his name like a wild coyote.

Matt suddenly started to sob.

Matt:   “I hate her… and love her.”

Neil:   “Uh, very interesting, Matt, but not really what I was looking for. I usually try for more “upbeat” posts. Your post is too depressing. But thanks for trying…. (under my breath)… nutcase.”

I grabbed my laptop and searched for another guest poster. On the opposite side of Starbucks, I saw another guy — a blond, beach boy type — sitting with his friend and laughing. He seemed to be in a great mood. I immediately ran over to him.

Neil:   “Hi, there. Would you like to guest post on my blog today?”

Pete:   “Sure.”

Neil:   “What’s your name?”

Pete:   “Pete.”

Neil:   “Go for it, Pete. Write for “Citizen of the Month.”

My Weekend by Pete (guest blogging for Citizen of the Month)

I had a great weekend. I love my life. On Saturday, I played some beach volleyball, then met this new girl on the beach. She looked great in her bikini. At night we went to see Transformers, and then she came back to my place. We must have f***ed all night. She was amazing in bed. She was insatiable. On Sunday, I went to church, as usual. When I came back, this chick was waiting for me with a homemade breakfast. She’s a great cook. We f***ed some more and then went out for some fish tacos. I was so hungry after all that glorious f***ing. At the Mexican joint, she told me how great I was in bed and that I was the best f*** in Redondo Beach…

Neil:   “Wait… wait… hold on… this post is way too upbeat for my taste. Your weekend sounds 1000x better than mine. And I really don’t like that last line about you in bed, because I’ve been trying to give my readers a different impression of what’s best in Redondo Beach.”

Pete:   “Hey, I’m sorry, dude. I’m just telling the facts.”

Neil:   “Well, like I said, the post is too happy. Just like the other guy’s post was too depressing. I’m looking for a post that’s JUST RIGHT.

The first guest poster, Matt came over, tears still in his eyes.

Matt:   “Hey, did I hear you say that this girl told you that you were the best f*** in Redondo Beach?”

Pete:   “That’s right.”

Matt:   “That’s bullshit. That’s what my girlfriend use to say to me.”

Pete:   “Well, sorry, dude.”

Matt:   “Wait a minute… is this girl’s name Meg?”

Pete:   “That’s right. Meg.”

Matt:   “That’s my girlfriend. You were doing my ex-girlfriend. You son of a…”

Matt grabbed Pete and wrestled with him in the middle of Starbucks.

The barista, a burly guy with a goatee, ran out from behind the counter.

Barista:   “Hey, stop it, you asses! Neither of you know what you are talking about. Meg told me that I was the best f*** in Redondo Beach!”

Matt:   “You too? You bastard.”

Matt threw a punch at the barista. Pete threw a punch at Matt, who went flying against the the glass of the pastry display. CRASH! The espresso machines became unhinged and blasted hot water upwards, blowing holes in the ceiling.

Neil:   “Yes!!!! I finally have a post to write. This is not too depressing. This is not too happy. This is JUST RIGHT!”

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Update later:  I apologize for letting you read this crazy post, which really makes no sense at all.    Substitute this instead:

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A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:   Her Real Name   (I asked bloggers to tell me their REAL names, not their phony blog names. Feel free to add to the list)

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