the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Category: Blogging and the Internet (Page 35 of 57)

The Nicest Man in New York City

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My mother called today and scolded me for being so “negative” on my blog.

“I can’t handle it, it makes me anxious,” she said, sounding very familiar, since I said the same thing to Sophia when she crying because of her pain.

“Write about positive things.  People like happy stories about people who do good things.” 

Now she was sounding like one of the Hollywood executives who want to re-do “Citizen Kane” and have it end with an elderly Kane gleefully sledding down a snowy hill  on “Rosebud,” all of his happy, laughing grandchilden in tow.

“I have a positive story.” my mother continued.  “You should write about that.”

My mother is a very nice woman, and can even make a good brisket, but a storyteller she ain’t.  But since this blog has been such a downer lately, I’m going to turn over the reigns of “Citizen of the Month” to my mother and present to you (lights and the roar of the MGM lion):

MY MOTHER’S POSITIVE STORY!

I’ve titled it “The Nicest Man in New York City.”

Mom, take it away!

“I was on the Q65 bus in Queens when a man came onto the bus at Kissena Boulevard.   He seemed confused about where to go.  He asked some woman…  but the confused man, a very nice man, only spoke French.  No one knew what he was saying.  Some college student, this Chinese girl, said she took French in high school, but could only understand that he “didn’t know where to get the Express Bus.”  Suddenly, the bus driver said, “I know French!”  He was from Haiti, and a very nice man.  He explained to the French man… in French… how to get to the Express Bus.  Even more… when the bus driver got to the right stop, he waited until the French man got off the bus and stood in the exact location on the street to catch the Express bus.”

And that was the story.

“That’s it?” I asked, laughing.  “That’s a nothing story.”

“Everyone thinks New Yorkers are so mean, but this proves differently, because the bus driver was so nice.”

I wasn’t in the mood for my mother’s Pollyannish ways, so I thought I’d trap her in her own story.

“And how did all the other passengers feel about the bus driver waiting around until this French guy found the right spot to catch the Express bus?  I’m sure they were annoyed and wanted to go already.” 

“No, not at all.  Everyone on the bus was very nice and cared about this French man.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone.  So, why don’t you write about THIS?  It’s not a nothing story.  It’a nice story, about nice people.”

Prolly Cause You’re Being Needy

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I end my worst week of blogging with a warning: ignore me. When I’m sane, it’s OK for me to ask you to send me a photo of your bed. When I’m crazed and needy and sort of horny after weeks of tension over Sophia’s surgery, DO NOT send me a photo of your bed, no matter how much I beg you for it.

Here are a couple of things I did today that should put me on some sort of “Do Not Blog With Him” list:

I started out the day emailing Jason, who lives in Nova Scotia, and telling him that I’m wearing a t-shirt that reads “Nova Scotia,” which my mother bought me years ago when she visited… Nova Scotia. Like he gives a crap. (Bonkers!)

I emailed two “anonymous” bloggers to ask them to send me photos of themselves since I was curious to see what they looked like. (Nuts!)

I emailed Heather Anne and told her that I want to know more about her, so I’m going to read her old archives. (Stalker!)

I wrote a bizarre and convoluted email to Pam, telling her why I thought BlogHer excluding men was like putting a nativity scene on public property during Christmas, and making Jews feeling left out. (Insanity!)

I stared at Heather B’s photo for twenty minutes, thinking, “Jeez, I would like SO date her!” (Pervert!)

I briefly IM-ed with Ms. Sizzle and Sarcastic Fringehead, asking them if they were “mad at me” because I haven’t read their blogs lately. Surprisingly, neither of them really noticed! (Insecure!)

I showed up at Thursday’s Stitch and Bitch meeting at the Farmer’s Market, hoping to run into Ellen Bloom, but she wasn’t there. The other knitters looked at me like I was some sort of serial killer. (Arrest him!)

Run, don’t walk from this blog. Run!

(but come back next week, when hopefully things will be back to normal)

Neil’s Penis: “I very much doubt that!”

As if She Doesn’t Have Enough Trouble

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Just when we thought we were healing Schmutzie with photos of strong roosters beating up cancer,  the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds has decided to mock us.  And we all know who is at fault here… the insecure feminists!  Talk about this at BlogHer!

From the New Zealand Herald:

RSPB Bans Cocks, Tits Allowed

The Royal Society for the Protection of Birds has banned the word for male birds from its website, drawing accusations of political correctness gone mad.

Visitors to the website found the word “cock” had been replaced by asterisks, while the species, tit, suffered no such indignity.

Forum user John D, of Yorkshire, told The Sun: “As bird lovers will know, a Parus Major is a great tit and while cocks do not get past the forum censor, tits do not cause offence. I’ve heard of PC but that is taking things too far.”

A worker claimed the word had been replaced because of software filters but an RSPB spokesman said it preferred to describe birds as either male or female.

Neil’s Penis:  “Fight the Power!”

The Blogosphere’s 2007 Class Photos

It’s that time again, when many in the blogosphere get together with their “blogging groups” for the annual class photos and the signing of the yearbooks.   Will everyone continue blogging through September, or will they be lost to a “summer love?”

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2007 Class Photo of the Mommybloggers

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2007 Class Photo of the Dating Bloggers

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2007 Class Photo of the “How to Monetize Your Blog” Bloggers

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2007 Class Photo of the Knitting Bloggers

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2007 Class Photo of the Shopping Bloggers

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2007 Class Photo of the Sex Bloggers

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2007 Class Photo of the Celebrity Bloggers

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2007 Class Photo of the Readers of “Citizen of the Month”

Meditative Monday

1.

See Sophia.   She is stressed.   Sophia wants to de-stress. 

Sophia downloads “meditation MP3s” from the internet.   Sophia puts on her headset and de-stresses with the sounds of the waves.

2.

See Neil.  Neil is stressed.  Neil wants to de-stress.  Neil wants to go online and fantasize about half-naked female bloggers. 

Neil notices that Sophia has downloaded her “meditation MP3” from a mysterious “Russian site” that has infected the computer with various “worms.” 

Neil is now VERY STRESSED.

3.

See Sophia.  Sophia lies in bed with her eyes closed, visualizing the ocean.  She is unstressing.

Relax, Sophia, Relax!

4.

See Neil.  Neil sits in front of a computer monitor for five hours, waiting the “progress bars” of  virus-scanners and “hijack stoppers” slowly moving millimeter by millimeter.   Oddly enough, the blue-tinted “progress bars” are hypnotic.  After Neil’s eyes become blurry, the progress bars appear as bluebirds flying across the landscape of a Costa Rican beach.

Relax, Neil, Relax!

Yes, I am Jim

Note:  This is the third time I am re-publishing this so-so post.  I’m not this anal in real life.   The problem with the post, as you will see, is that the joke is based on me getting an email from HOLLY Newberry, when in reality, I received an email from a reader named HOLLIE Newberry.  Time for new glasses.

OK, here is the earlier post:

Once upon a time, people said I looked like John Lennon. Later, I was mistaken for Bill Gates. (you can read my depressingly awful first attempt at a “poem” about this subject here)

Last year, in IHOP, I was thought to be the actor who played Kirk from “The Gilmore Girls.” (I know the show just ended. What happened to Kirk anyway?)

Today I received an email:

Neil,

I’m a (somewhat) loyal reader of Citizen of the Month. Being the brave man you are, you post pictures of your self for all the world to see. While watching a mini-marathon of Shear Genius, and drinking vodka after 4 shots of novocaine and some happy gas at the dentist, I noticed that you look like the long lost brother of one of the contestants. I can’t remember his name, but I know he left the show early for his doing of horrible hair. Here he is:

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Did I tell you or what?

Sincerely,

Hollie Newberry

I scratched my head for a few minutes, wondering if this was a legitimate email. Other than us both wearing glasses, I don’t think I look anything like him. His name is “Jim” and he was eliminated from Bravo’s hair-styling reality show, Sheer Genius.

How do I know that information? Because I looked it up on Google.

I also Googled the email author, Hollie Newberry, and came up with this:

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(Men, if you do a search, you will find much much better photos of Hollie, who is apparently a famous British cheerleader)

Now, the emailer might not be THIS “Hollie,” but if she is, “Yes, I am Jim of Shear Genius.”

Note:  So, bascially, the whole post was based on a spelling error.  The email was from HOLLIE, not HOLLY, and I’m sure Hollie now hates me and will never read my blog again.  There was some more stuff to this post, but I deleted it.   Can I now move on to something new?

Have a great weekend!

She Loved My Cock So Much, Now She Wants Yours

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There are a few times I’ve embarrassed myself online, but one of my most memorable moments was when I sent an email to Schmutzie, who didn’t know me from Adam, and told her I adored her website and that I completely related to her frequently odd (uh, offbeat) posts and photos. And guess what — she wrote back! I’ve been smitten ever since.

Schmutzie was just diagnosed with cervical cancer, and she’s pulling her hair out of head, just like Sophia has been doing since she learned she had to go back into surgery in ten days.   Cancer really sucks, but I have a feeling these two strong women will beat the shit out it.  And since Schmutzie is Canadian, and we all know how Canadians don’t fight fair, her cancer better be very scared!

I noticed that Schmutzie used a rooster as her icon on her sidebar, so I emailed her a photo of a colorful rooster with the message, “Be Strong Like the Rooster.”  Now others are sending her rooster photos to bolster up her spirits.

Send her a rooster photo for her “Cockroll” and say hello!   I shared my cock with her.  Will you share yours?

Update:  One more rooster photo for her collection — ABBA with their unknown “fifth band member.”

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A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:   BlogHim 06′

I Apologize to all Mommybloggers

I apologize for this post. Please don’t ban me from the internet. I know you mommybloggers are so powerful that you have the power to do so. Remember, I was also once an innocent baby in a mother’s arms!

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Transform Your Blog into a Book!

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I felt guilty about my last post since mommybloggers have been so nice to me lately, sending Sophia cards and wishing her well on her surgery. And how do I respond? — by attacking their precious children! What a jerk I am!

It occurred to me that people write what they know. Businessmen write blogs about stocks and Microsoft. Mommies write about their kids. What’s so wrong about that? (except for the fact that so many of these mommybloggers never come to read my blog) But that’s my fault, not theirs.

Sometimes, I wish I had a clearcut theme… I wish I could say I was a “something”-blogger. It gives you an instant community. I love all my readers and blogging friends, but I’m not sure how to describe this bizarre community. I always hear about bloggers getting book deals from their blogs. I think agents and publishers also like blogs that have a clearcut theme or “story,” because it helps them visualize the book.

For example:

Blog about having sex with everyone in Washington D.C. = book about having sex with everyone in Washington D.C.

Blog about working for big law firm and having sex with everyone in law firm = book about working for big law firm and having sex with everyone in law firm.

Blog about working in hip restaurant and having sex with customers = Book about working in hip restaurant and having sex with customers

Blog about getting divorced and taking up knitting = Book about getting divorce and taking up knitting (I’m not sure how much sex is in this one, though, but there are a lot of cats)

Blog about being a wonderful mommy = book about being a wonderful mommy.

WTF is my blog about?

I’ve been really distraught about this issue, but luckily, like magic, help came this morning in the way of a pop-up ad while using Internet Explorer (kids, use Firefox!) It seems that writing guru Ann Mcindoo has all the answers to turning your blog into a book.

A book? From my blog? What fun! After taking one of her very short seminars, I’m now about to visualize the whole plot of my book.

Agents! Publishers! Here is the summary of “Citizen of the Month,” the book:

Writer guy in Los Angeles is separated from his wild foreign-born wife. Sexually frustrated, he tries to flirt with women online, but they end up mostly seeing him as their “metrosexual” friend, except for that one time he went a little further with a nice blogger back East. Guy’s Penis gets upset at him and wants him to start f**king again, and threatens to “move on” if he doesn’t get any p***y. Guy’s beloved father dies but continues talking to his son from the beyond, telling him to “always be good to women.” Guy’s mother transforms her life and becomes a professional Mah Jongg player, while having an affair with Santa Claus. Guy sneaks back to live with his separated wife when she is away working and he then refuses to leave, even though he isn’t very fond of living in Redondo Beach, finding it too “goyish.” Separated wife faces breast cancer. Penis scolds guy for not paying him “enough attention.” Mother scolds guy for forgetting to send mother’s day card. Separated Wife scolds guy for telling her “don’t be upset” over having surgery. Blogger comments on Dooce, but gets no response.

The end.

(but in the Hollywood version of the book, Dooce does comment, and they have an affair, which makes guy’s wife jealous, so guy and separated wife reunite in a gala second wedding in Hawaii, officiated by Communicatrix. During their second honeymoon in Italy, guy’s totally satisfied-sexually wife tells husband that he is a “real man who should be shared with the world,” and that it is OK for him to continue flirting with other female bloggers — in fact, it is his destiny!)

A Mild Rant Against Mommybloggers

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My virtual pot smoking didn’t really work, so I’m still in a grouchy mood.  I feel like taking it out on someone, so I picked an easy target — mommybloggers.

Now I love women and I love children.  And I adore my mother.  But isn’t having a child supposed to be the greatest blessing to happen to someone?  The greatest joy?  So, isn’t it a bit immodest to show your child every day on your blog, as if you’re showing off your new shoes from Nordstrom?   I understand that you love your child and your child is the ticket to the gated suburban blog community of Dooce, Amalah, and the incestuous Federated Media advertising-sponsored mommy/daddy blogs, but I love my Toyota Prius, and I’m not going to talk about it EVERY day.   After all, I don’t want to make the guy with the 1985 Honda Civic feel bad about his crappy car.  It just ain’t polite.

P.S. — Sophia just reminded me that the Toyota Prius is actually her car, and that I DO drive a crappy car.

P.P.S. — I guess I’m just feeling sad about not having kids tonight, since if I had some kids, I could get them to do the dishes instead of me.   Isn’t that what it’s all about?

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