OK, folks, I'm behind on my monthly stunts, the whole premise behind this blog. And none of you have called me on it, which makes it far easier for me to skate. So I ask of you, indeed beg you: Nag, nag, nag.

Technically, I'm right on course, but two of the things I could include as never-before-dones are weak.

Let's review:

January - Bought something in a porn shop.
February - Publicly confessed something (bipolarism), a blog that later was published in this city's Depression/Bipolar Support Alliance newsletter, which made it even more public.
March - Tried being blonde
April - Saw a psychic
May - Joined Toastmasters

I'll call foul on myself for April and May.

Yes, I saw a psychic. But she was so bad I never blogged about it. Frankly, I was ashamed I parted with cash for the whole experience, and pissed off enough about being duped that it didn't seem funny.

She was not only flat wrong on several things, but dirty blonde, middle-aged and dressed in the kinds of clothes the "What Not To Wear" folks would not just fling into the trash, but set aflame. There was nothing mysterious or gypsylike about her, much less the florescent bulb-lit, plain-Jane office in which she worked. (Since my name is Jane, I can say Plain Jane. The rest of you all cannot; it will hurt my feelings). The absence of a crystal ball, at the very least some dry ice, disappointed me.

Plus, within about 5 minutes, it became clear to me she was basing her every statement on the tone of my voice. Her eyes stayed closed throughout the hour, and her head cocked to one side whenever I spoke. I used this against her. Since my tone dropped when I said my married name, she concluded I was deeply saddened about the loss of my ex-husband. When it lilted a bit as I mentioned my co-worker DeeDee, she confidentally predicted we would soon be friends again. I soon tired of my own game, however, and wished the rest of our session away.

Was it any coincidence that she, not only a psychic but a nutritionist, ended it by saying I clearly needed some supplements?

And yes, I have joined Toastmasters. This truly is a feat because I am deathly afraid of public speaking.

The problem is, all I've done is join the club. I have yet to give a speech. I've written a check, signed some paper, sat back, and cheerfully watched other club members tell all sorts of fascinating stories, admiring their hand gestures and facial expressions. I've particularly watched Alex, an aesthetically-pleasing single dad who called me "Miss" the second time I attended a meeting. I asked for the paperwork that day.

Sooner or later, they're going to do more than encourage me to get up there. They'll start shoving, and that's when it will get ugly. That's when I'll have a monthly feat to report: Either I'll deck a Toastmaster or give the damn speech.

Meanwhile, I need some nagging. I'm thinking it's time to feed a homeless guy, but also that I need to pursue something more fun. Hot air ballooning, topless sunbathing in a semi-public place, standing on a street corner and asking people to sign a petition in support of my personal pay increase, something along those lines.

Suggest. Cast a vote. Or just nag.