Linda Delmonico Prussen BIO

     Hi!  My names is Linda Delmonico Prussen and I’m 40-year-old mom to three daughters ages 14, 10 and 7.  My children are my heart and my soul. 

My sport, gymnastics, has been a huge part of my life for more than 28 years.  I teach beginning to advanced gymnastics to a wide variety of children and teens including those with emotional, mental and physical challenges.  I love seeing the look of accomplishment on a child’s face, especially a child that wasn’t expected to succeed.  I also love challenging myself to try and keep up with my more advanced teen gymnasts even if it means getting my but whooped!

      After losing my six-month-old son Eric, my second child, at 28 years of age, I found writing cathartic.  I began writing first person essays to deal with my grief.  In time I branched out into a variety of subject matter and forums.  I’ve since received awards as both a journalist and columnist and have had over a dozen plays produced off-off Broadway. As of late I’ve been writing commercial voiceovers for television and continue to freelance for newspapers and magazines.  Because I believe everyone has a story to tell I also teach an adult writing class.

      Most recently I began a foray into the world of TV, video and film.  I’ve done a number of different projects and I’m having a tremendous amount of fun.

      Knowing that being a new mom and being a teen are two of the most challenging times in a woman’s life I began mentoring a young teen mom.

      My work schedule revolves around my number one priority my children.  With the types of jobs I do, I’m fortunate enough to be home for them after school four out of five days per week.   

      My columns, featured here on www.Americanhotmama.com, were writings I was never sure would find a home and I sincerely thank Gabrielle Sun Heart for giving me the space to express myself.  I hope everyone enjoys them and I welcome your feedback.     

Sex and the Suburbs

Volume 1

The Shaping of a strange mind

By Linda Delmonico Prussen

      My dad has a great sense of humor.  One guess what he named our family cat.  Try to imagine each evening after dinner your father standing on the stoop in front of your suburban home and calling the family cat. Calling for his “Pussy.” At first I saw nothing wrong with it. As I got older my teenage friends would take to a fit of laughing along with my father. An inside joke I was a bit too naive to get. My friends would ask how I could let my father name the cat that. I thought they just found it odd in the way it might be odd to name a pet dog, “dog.” Eventually my pals filled me in.

      I can remember when I was even younger. Growing up Italian, calamari was one of my favorite foods, except I only liked the portion of the squid sliced like rings. Can you see this one coming yet? My mother would be serving the calamari and I didn’t quite have the name of the part I didn’t like down pat, the tentacles. So as she served me I would remind her that, “I don’t want to eat any testicles.” My parents, especially my dad would take a fit of laughing. They’d ask me again and again what part I didn’t want and each time they laughed like it was the first time and each time I figured there had to be something funny about me not liking the part of the squid with the little suction cups still attached. I think I was in seventh grade health class when I heard mention of male testis and even then I’m not sure a light bulb went off in my head, though I think I wondered why they called the legs on a squid and portion of a man’s sexual organs the same thing.  

      After that most of my questions about sex were either answered in the most clinical terms in sex class or more practical if not always the most factual terms from my friends. Funny thing though, as I’ve gotten older, not only do I not have all the answers- I find I don’t even have all the questions.

      Here in this column, I’ll attempt to at least ask some of the question that I’ve been faced with since I’ve known where babies come from.

      Next, this column will be from a woman’s point of view. For those of you who don’t think that’s fair, too bad. I don’t think it’s particularly fair that women, overall, still get paid less than men to do the same job. Life is not fair. Just ask any woman in labor. Also I must point out that I said, “A woman’s point of view,” not, “All women’s points of view.” Just one, mine. And lil’ole’ me wouldn’t dream of trying to speak for all women because we are all so different, with so many different points of view. Remember that men when you’re thumbing through Cosmo trying to figure out why the love of your life is pissed off. However with all that said, I not only welcome, I encourage input from the male species and from women as well. So write in and let me know what’s on your mind.

      I’m hoping this column will come to you once a month, but unlike other gifts from God that come once a month, it will arrive without pain, bloat or aggravation.

      And lastly, most of the time, I’m kidding!  It’s a joke. Even if there are nuggets of truth and wisdom to be found in among some of my words, mostly I’d like to make you laugh. I’m hoping we all can settle down now and have some fun!

Sex and the Suburbs

Volume 2

Let’s talk about Viagara Gum

By Linda Delmonico Prussen

      I understand the frustration men must feel if they can’t perform.  Oh hell, who am I kidding? As a woman not only capable of multiple orgasms but likely to get turned on riding a bike in tight jeans I have absolutely no friggin’ idea what it’s like for a man who can’t perform. With that said I still question the need for the new drug, Viagra Gum, for those men unable to swallow a pill or the men who find regular Viagra too tough on their tummies. Hello??? You can’t swallow a pill, you can barely digest a prescription drug, yet it’s really important you can still get it up. How did this come about?  Did some poor guy end up in his doctor’s office and say, “Hey Doc, I can’t swallow. Got anything for me?” And the doctor answered, “Well gee, Joe… Can’t help you much there but I do have something that might help you forget your worries.”  Help me on this one O.K.? What happens when a man can’t chew? Just mash it in their applesauce? Can’t eat, can barely digest, no worries mate, modern medicine is going to make sure you can get it up right up until the moment you’re in your grave.  In fact it can stick up even after you’re gone like a little grave marker.

      Have you seen the Viagra commercials? The music for one commercial is Queen’s “We are the Champions” being belted out by the late great and gay or at least bi-sexual Freddy Mercury. Think about that. They have men of every ethnicity represented and in many commercials, their partners, all women, speak about the joy the drug has brought back into their lives. Shouldn’t there be, in this politically correct environment, at least one gay man talking about the joy the drug has brought back to his relationship? Let me guess, all you gay guys out there are going to say you don’t have that problem. Of course not. I honestly don’t doubt it.

      In one commercial they have all these middle aged or older suburban men dancing in the street and only one woman out there dancing with her husband. Any idea why? ‘Cause the other women are home crying. They thought it was all over but now… Why don’t we take a step back and speak to these men’s wives. We seem very concerned about the man’s ability to swallow. What if their women are tired of swallowing? Do they miss it? Maybe they’ve had enough. I think any man over a certain age should be required to have his wife sign the prescription for Viagra for it to be valid. What age? Well, maybe the wife should determine that too. No wife, then no need for Viagra.  The last thing this world needs is a bunch of horny old men looking for a way to get off.     

      But back to Viagra Gum. I spoke to some of my male friends and the general consensus was if they couldn’t continue to get it up swallowing would be a mute point because they wouldn’t want to live. So I suppose therein lies the answer. Still, maybe nature has a way of deciding when enough is enough. Viagra could be science screwing with nature. It’s said heart attacks are a possible side effect of Viagra. But the impression I get from my male friends is it may not be so bad going when you’re coming.

Sex and the Suburbs

Volume 3

What is the polite way to turn down a threesome?

By Linda Delmonico Prussen

      I was out with a girl-friend one evening for dinner and drinks. I’m using a hyphen because I feel it’s important to stress this was a girl who happens to be a friend. Not a true “girlfriend,” not that there’s anything wrong with that, thank you Jerry Seinfeld. Anyway, we were in the bar of the restaurant, a band was playing and people were socializing. It was a loud friendly atmosphere. An attractive woman next to me struck up a conversation. I can’t remember quite what she said at first but one subject lead to another and one drink to another and she mentioned having an incredibly stiff neck. I’m a very maternal person and an athlete so rubbing someone’s neck to me had no special connotations. She thanked me said her neck felt better and our conversation continued.

      She pointed out her husband across the bar. She talked about the renovations being done on her home, the built in pool being installed and the hot tub she couldn’t wait to use. Then she said, and this I remember, “ I find you very attractive. I’m wondering if you’d be interested in a threesome.”  I was too shocked too speak. I seriously didn’t see it coming. My girl-friend who I was there with told me later I should have expected it, rubbing her shoulders and all. “Hold on,” I asked, “Since when does a neck rub constitute being not just gay, but bi-sexual?” 

      So there I am staring at this woman, actually doing a pretty fine imitation of the deer in headlights, not knowing what to say. Well I know what I wanted to convey, “No.” I just couldn’t get out the words to say it. I started to babble. Always a mistake in uncomfortable situations. I started with, “No thank you,” and kept going. I said, “Oh I’m so sorry if I mislead you,” I figured it would be best to try and take some responsibility for her invitation. I continued, “I’m so very flattered and I find you very attractive as well but I’m not gay.”

      “Bi,” she corrected me.

      “I’m not Bi either,” I continued adding, now this is good, “but if I were I’m sure I would want to be with you. You seem like just the type of girl I think I’d want to be with. And I don’t think there is anything wrong with a threesome it’s just not something I’m interested in doing right now.” I tried to go on, no idea what would’ve come out of my mouth next, maybe, “You could give me your number and if I find I change my mind, I could give you a call.” Thankfully, for both our sakes, she told me to shut up, politely, but definitely to shut up.

      This was one of those situations one finds themselves in where no matter how many times you go back over the night’s events you can’t quite figure out how you got there. Once there one can’t figure out how to extricate themselves. I suppose it would have been worse if I said yes, for fear of hurting her feelings, then later searched for a way or tried to excuse my way out.

      It’s funny, while I never set out to hurt a guy’s feelings, when a guy approaches me with a proposition I have no problem saying. “I’m married.” And before I was married, “No thanks,” or “I’m not interested,” or for the truly dense, “Go away.”

      But I found myself both so caught off guard by her question and so overcome with the desire not to hurt her feelings I didn’t know what to say.  I know it’s because I’m a woman too and in relating to her as a woman I tried to think of how I would feel. A tough thing to do since while I was relating to her as a woman I couldn’t for the life of me put myself in her shoes. This was not like answering a common women’s inquiry like,  “Do you think I look fat in these jeans?”

      Maybe what I should have done was treat it the same as any other come-on, regardless of sex.  But even more importantly the encounter taught me to remember how I was trying so hard to be so sensitive to her feelings in being rejected and to afford a bit more sensitivity towards men in the same situation. And I shouldn’t give neck rubs in bars.

Sex and the suburbs volume 4

Confessions of a craigslist addict

By Linda Delmonico Prussen

      One of my friends suggested a parent lock on the computer preventing me from logging onto to craigslist. As the director and production assistant were attaching the three-foot metal rods, the 18-plus pound camera and the harness to my back I was beginning to agree. I am addicted to craigslist and to stupidly prove it I was about to get up on a balance beam only four inches wide and four feet of the floor with this contraption on my back. It was probably the fifth project I had shot that I booked through craigslist. Being perfectly honest with myself, if I survived it, it was unlikely that it would be my last.  Once an addict….

      Craigslist is a website with a plethora of job listings in just about every imaginable category and some categories not quite imaginable. One simply clicks on the city nearest them then searches through the various offerings. And it isn’t just jobs. There are apartments, real estate, things to buy and sell and discussion forums. One message board is called kink. But as kinky as it may purport to be most messages posted are short and make little to no sense read on their own.  I read them only for research purposes of course.

      What I really read craigslist for is job postings in the areas of TV/Film/Video and art.  And I’ve gotten quite a few fun jobs. I shot a leather jacket commercial, a website for an executive training course and a shoot for a well-known company in support of the upcoming Olympics where I got to portray both a coach and a gymnast—albeit my role of the gymnast was spent with the previously mentioned camera strapped to me and jutting out behind me. I also got some less than glamorous but well paying gigs promoting a bank and a new razor.

      One disappointing job I booked through craigslist was a posting that stated it was searching for actors in great shape for extras in a martial arts shoot. I thought the shoot sounded like a tremendous amount of fun!  We were going to get to play some part, however small, in an action movie. Wrong. We were audience members at a karate match. Why did they ask that we be in great shape? Well from holding –the corral that holds extras till their time on set-- to the set, was a four-flight trek. They wanted extras that were O.K. doing stairs.

      Newcomers to craigslist should be wary of is the many different ways a posting is subtly asking you to take your clothes off. Personally, I always thought of myself as “Open minded” realizing later that on craigslist that’s another way of saying I wouldn’t mind being naked in front of the camera.

Here are a few more ways to say the same thing.

1. Adventurous or adventuresome (They’re not talking about rock climbing or jet skiing.) 2. Teen girls—over 21 (are there teen girls over 21?)

3. This is not porn, it’s art (they still want you to take your clothes off)

4. Shooting videos for my own personal use (O.K. so you don’t think if one day you hit it big in normal movies, his own personal use wouldn’t include padding his bank account?)

5. Tasteful (Uh-huh. It’s what they’d like you to taste that you might want to question)

6. Simply the word “Models” flanked by a series of $$$$.  (The more dollar signs the more “artful” I’m sure.)

      There are tons more. One went as far as to say “newcummers welcome.”

      I answered one posting for adult figure skaters, never realizing they meant ADULT figure skating. It turns out it was slated to be a comedy film of porn meets Disney on Ice. Even if I was comfortable taking my clothes off in front of the camera, don’t they know it is mighty cold on the ice?  And while falling is never fun it’s worse to fall if you have no clothes on.

      Of course, you should be careful in responding to anything on the Internet. I basically stick to three rules. The first is that I get paid. Many of the listings are looking for actors to work only for “experience.” I can see doing that when “experience” can pay my phone bill. The second rule is I keep my clothes on.  And the last rule which only Craig’s List addicts may understand is no feet.  No one I don’t know touches my feet, I don’t touch any feet, no foot photos—no feet.  I actually have very nice feet, but I do not want to meet anybody who wants to film my feet.  Even if it is for their own “personal use.”

      Even abiding by my three rules I’ve had a great deal of fun. There are so many short-term jobs in different fields including education, technology, writing, etc. I’d definitely suggest to anyone looking for a project to surf through craigslist and see what you find.

Want to check it out?  Log onto www.newyork.craigslist.org.

Sex and the suburbs volume 5

Sorry, lonely or horny

What’s the difference?

By Linda Delmonico Prussen

      A couple of days following any major fight my friend has with his girlfriend I get the phone call. “I don’t understand why she just won’t accept it when I say I’m sorry, and drop it.” He laments. “She wants to go back over everything and rehash it. I just want to forget it and move on.” The last time he called rather than try and figure out the ‘why’ of her behavior I asked him, “Are you really sorry?” His answer, “Of course I am. I’m sorry we fought because it’s been nothing but aggravation.”

      The reason for her refusal of his apology became crystal clear. “Sorry you fought?” I asked. “That isn’t being sorry for what you did,” I explained adding, “In fact being, ‘Sorry you fought,’ is about as lame as saying ‘I’m sorry you’re upset.” He didn’t get it, or at least he wouldn’t admit to getting it.

      Suddenly, a light came on in my head. I asked, “Does wanting to ‘move on’ mean you want to get laid?” This earned me an embarrassed laugh and a sheepish admission of guilt. He didn’t truly believe he was wrong, though at this point he could hardly remember why they fought, but he did know without an apology the dry spell he was currently suffering could go on for quite a while. Instantly, with his admission, every apology I ever received out of the blue from any and all exes made sense. These sudden attacks of conscious were caused by nothing more than a traffic back up on the testosterone highway.

      Here’s a note to you guys who want to just forget the fight and ‘move on’ and believe simply saying I’m sorry will get you there— dismiss what you’ve heard in the movies. Despite Ali McGraw’s claim in “Love Story” love is NOT “Never having to say you’re sorry.” For most women love is saying you’re sorry, saying exactly what you’re sorry for, why you’re sorry and the steps you’ll take to avoid what caused the fight from ever happening again.

Women aren’t stupid. They know ‘move on’ is short for ‘move back on top of you.’ While the motivation certainly earns more than its fair share of apologies, they are empty acts of contrition aimed at men getting something they want. And it isn’t forgiveness.

      Now, before you believe this is a trait limited to men I’ll share a little secret with you, women can suffer from it too. Being the creatures we are though we aren’t likely to offer up false apologies because we are lonely or horny. Not that during the dry spell following a fight we aren’t lonely or horny, we absolutely are, but the action we are likely to take is to forgive our men before they even ask.

      In the case of one of my friends it starts with a phone call to me where she asks, “You think I may have been too hard on him?”  I hear this and I’m thinking—too hard on him??!!! After what he did????!!! He’s an idiot and doesn’t deserve you! O.K. that’s what I’m thinking, but I’m also thinking/hearing obviously you miss him and want to forgive him. So together we try to find or fabricate (fabricating-- it’s not just for motorcycles anymore) reasons her man may have said or done what he did that would be of no fault of his own. We often settle for the ‘he’s a guy’ excuse because we, even in our infinite wisdom, really can’t find any other reason a man would be such an idiot. And by this point she’s willing to forgive said guy because even though he’s an idiot, he’s a cute idiot and out of all the other possible idiots out there…

      So she’ll call her man and the conversation will sound something like this, “Look I realize you had absolutely no idea doing what you did would hurt me the way it has, but you do realize now that it was wrong, yes?” Note to guys, here we are writing the apology for you. All you have to do to ‘move on’—remember what that translates to-- is agree and accept the acceptance of the apology you’ve yet to make. Don’t try to edit or embellish. Now is not the time to be creative. Nor is it the time to dig in your heels if you believe there is even the most remote chance that eventually you might want to apologize. You see this acceptance of the apology, you’ve yet to make, may occur before you are actually ready to apologize, but if you decide now that you’re sticking fast to whatever position you held, when you do finally decide it is time to apologize you’ll have a whole lot more explaining to do as to why you couldn’t just apologize when she was ready to forgive you.

      In the case where the woman is wrong, and yes it does happen, most of my female friends and I are able to offer up true and heartfelt apologies. After all you guys aren’t the only ones who want to ‘move on.’ And we’ll be the last people to stand in our own way!

Sex and the Suburbs

Volume 6

Penis Envy

By Linda Delmonico Prussen

      Wonder what Freud would think if I were to admit to having penis envy. That doesn’t mean I want to be a man. Not even close. Maybe penis envy is the wrong term.  Maybe penis curiosity is more accurate. But you’ve got to wonder what part of someone’s anatomy could be so special it deserves a name. Even if you guys cop out and say, “Hey my girlfriend named it, not me.” Still, she must of have thought it important enough to show it the respect a given name connotates.

      Skipping right over the obvious like how much easier it is for you guys on camping trips, the English language is chock full of penis references from, “some set of balls,” to “thinking with one’s dick.” I don’t know any woman who was ever told she has “some set ovaries” or was accused of “thinking with her vagina.”

      The list of masturbatory terms is almost inexhaustible, spanking the monkey, polishing the wood, choking the chicken, etc. Heck, there are even websites listing slang terms for male masturbation with hundreds of derivatives. Google it. Any activity that there’s that many names for has got to be something fun.

      There are many men who just want to “show” women their penis.  Not just flashers mind you but normal men that want to put their penis up for a viewing. Sort of like a private gallery opening for an audience of one.  What exactly are they looking for in terms of reactions? I’m guessing, “It’s so cute!” Like when you see a new baby, would be bad. “I didn’t know they made them that small,” probably wouldn’t be appreciated either. Of course since this would be a man who wants to show it off it probably isn’t small. Oh, and for you guys who believe size doesn’t matter, you’re right. In speaking to my female friends, penis size only matters to most women about as much as breast size matters to men. What was a toss up with my friends was whether a woman would give up anything in length to get more in girth, but I digress.

      I suppose the best response any woman could give upon seeing a man’s penis for the first time would be the kind of response Bush wanted with the war on Iraq, “Shock and awe,” like a giant intake of breath followed by, “Oh my God! Wow…” Back to penis showing. Think of flashers. They are all men flashing their penises. You don’t see women flashing their vaginas. Of course should jeans get any lower…

      The caring for the health of a penis also appears, at least until a man is in his fifties, easier than the care of a vagina. Men have nothing to contend with once a month. You don’t have your feet up in stirrups and cold metal entering your body once a year (those men that do, please don’t write and tell me about it). You should be performing self-exams, for lumps to help catch testicular cancer, however women should be doing the same things for their breasts so we’re even on that one. I did hear things get tough for you guys, as you get older. Prostate tests aren’t fun and Prostate problems are common. Then again, we give birth.

      And how about phallic symbols? Just the fact that there are phallic symbols, whether it’s a gun, a car or the TV remote says something. You ever hear of a vagina symbol? Ever hear a woman being told the reason she carries a large handbag is to make up for feelings of inadequacy in her thong?

      Then there is of course the “New York Islander Game Penis envy.”  And no it isn’t envy of the New York Islanders’ penises, though that maybe another column… What it is, is the very special form of envy that comes in between the first and second period of play in an Islander game after drinking a large beer. We’ve all seen the bathroom lines in the coliseum, but it is only the women that have the pleasure of waiting on them.

      Really, guys talk about it, adjust it and play with it. How can we help but be curious? And since guys always seem so willing to satisfy a woman’s curiosity they should be glad we are.