What captures the fancy of the Orange Tangerine crowd? What brings out the commenters in droves? Three things, apparently: sandwiches, boobs, and toilets. Are you proud of yourselves? Often only one or two of you respond to something Important, but sandwiches? Everybody's got something to say. That's fine, really. I don't mind. But if this blog became a three-topic site—Orange Tangerine: Eat Sandwiches, See Boobs, Poop—would my traffic soar or plummet? I like to think y'all love me for my mind, and I'd appreciate it if none of you would disabuse me of that notion. (My vote for most horrifying sandwich from the previous thread: peanut butter and mayonnaise. And I love PB. It's the mayo combo that is so off-putting.)
You don't seem to love the puke posts quite so much, but I've got one for you anyway. Ben is a savvy, smart kid who likes to figure out how to work the system. Since kindergarten started, every now and then he asks, "What if I throw up at school?" He's just trying to figure out what he has to do to get a free pass to stay home from school. (Even though he enjoys school, particularly the hot lunches.) I was determined to send him to school on Friday, after he'd spent three days home from school with a fever, cough, and laryngitis, and had advised him of this Thursday evening. So Friday morning, before he even got out of bed, he asked, "What if I throw up?" Two can play that game; "They'll see if you're really sick to your stomach and going to throw up again, and if you're really sick, they'll call me and I'll pick you up. But if it's just a one-time thing, you'll stay in school." (Probably a total misrepresentation of school policy, but I don't want to encourage him to try to outwit me vomitously.) He got out of bed, walked to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, made a dreadful face, and proceeded to throw up in the sink. Without even gagging himself! Just by thinking about it, the kid made himself throw up! (There is no limit to what he can accomplish in life with will power like that.) I assured him he was fine and gave him cough medicine and ibuprofen. He brushed his teeth, got dressed, and went to school. He was totally fine after school—running, scampering, and whatnot. (The footnote is that then he started having this incessant dry cough that led to repeated mini-pukes the last two evenings, but hey, it's totally unrelated to the make-a-face puking.) Apparently he even told his teacher that he'd thrown up, and he reports that she replied, "Oh, okay." I can't believe I didn't get a call from the nurse's office after that, but I imagine he was acting so perky the teacher didn't think he was any sicker than I did.
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In a shameless blog-plug (as well as shameless self-plagiarization): I blogged a couple weeks ago about how my first-grader was up all night with an aching stomach, afraid he was going to barf. I kept telling him it was OK to feel yucky and that he didn't have to be a trooper and go to school if he didn't feel like it.
He kept saying he did want to go to school in the morning. We went through this about once every hour, all night. Finally, morning came, and he threw up right at 7 a.m.
He wiped his mouth and said tiredly, "NOW can I go to school?"
I myself tune in for the humor.
Hell, ALL I talk about is boobies and poop and I don't get anywhere close to your site traffic. Granted, you have better jahoobies, but still...it MUST be the incisive wit. (Though folks WILL go on about a sandwich). I also tune in to hear about Ben, because he is such a charming, handsome devil.
(Feral Mom, you definitely have a better ass.)
I'll comment. But only in hopes that the next post is on boobs.
PB & mayo is definitely disgusting. you may want to ban that poster.
I just found your blog. Very funny!! My son actually throws up if he eats too fast or jumps around too much. I get many calls from the school nurse that he's sick and I pick him up and guess what? He's not sick. Oh well.
I don't really like sandwiches much at all. Or poop. Or vomit. Boobs are ok, but there are better boob sites if that's what you're into (not better boobs, just better boob sites, understand). I don't think I can describe what keeps me coming back -- if I could, it might destroy the magic.
Great site, of course...love your serious stuff, puke and poop stuff. While I admire your boobs, usually its boobs in some kind of funny situation that gets me, not just boobs themselves...I have my own set...not like yours...but still...they're there.
I love you for your sparkling personality, your Ben stories, and, of course, your breasteses.
Oh, is this thing interactive?
Krup, I actually read your puke post a week or two ago. Your boy's academic dedication is impressive.
Dr. B., do you think I'm a clown? Do I amuse you? Wait, I can't be funny. I'm a feminist. Something is wrong here.
Your Feral Highness, you can call my wit incisive any time you want. *blush* *batting eyelashes*
UA: What the hell are you getting at? I just don't get it. But I'm ROFLMAO. You wanna make something of it?
TAN Man, PB/mayo has been outdone by PB/sauerkraut. And sadly, I can't ban Psycho Kitty for her utterly disgusting sandwich because she kicked my ass to start this blog in the first place. I will write about boobs if someone can find me a great-looking bra in a 36DD that doesn't look like someone sewed two giant (but pretty) yarmulkes together.
Ow, welcome! Toward the beginning of my archives, you can find another puke post pertaining to Twizzlers. (Summary: Twizzlers are inferior to cherry Nibs, but they make vomit smell strawberry-sweet.)
Doctormama, I really only like sandwiches of the PB or grilled cheese variety myself. Meat and cheese. Feh. Always remember what it said on my uncle's t-shirt: It's not the size of the wand, it's the magic in it. (Microphallus pride!)
JT, Jacob's your Hot Dog Lunchables absolutist, right? And he can puke at the sight of veggies? Oy. His role in the family, apparently, is to work your last nerve?
Kathie, the funniest situation my boobs were ever in was when my husband's friend was staying with us. I'd just showered and the bathroom was so hot and steamy, my husband opened the door and assured me Mike was staying in the living room. Except he wasn't. He chanced upon me half bent-over, half squatting, boobs swinging free. I'm not sure which of has worse mental scars from that.
Mona, your breasteses are due up next. You missed the Boobie-thon, didn't you? Time to put out, girlie.
Well....since I haven't been here long....I'll say that what makes me want to come back is that pretty greenness around the sides. I find it rather interesting, truth be told, that your blog's name is Orange Tangerine and the page is covered in green. A wonder for the ages, I imagine.
Sounds to me like your son will grow up to be a fine "gifted child" as the system likes to call them (us, really). The trick to being a gifted child isn't necessarily anything special about their mind, it's more an ability to make the system work in your favor. Granted, there are certain kids who truly are gifted, but most of them, in my experience, set a goal (say a B average) and do just enough work to maintain that and make themselves look good.
Although it might be a genetic thing in his case, judging by the wit and humor present in his mommy.
Thanks Orange...huge guffaw over here...Even knowing you were trying to make me laugh didn't make your story any less funny...thanks
I've been trying to figure out what keeps me coming back here and failing. I think it's that your personality shines through (or at least, I think it does, since I don't know you in RL) and after awhile you've started to feel like a friend who I can sit and talk with. And if the conversations tend to be a little one directional, well, that's blogging!
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