What do you call this blog? "The Aristocrats!"

The Tangerine Man and I went on a nigh-unto-my-birthday date yesterday and saw The Aristocrats. Those of you who know me well know that I have a high tolerance for the potty talk and soforth, and this movie was hee-larious! Unspeakably foul, yes, but also an hour and a half of riproaring good fun. Not sure if this movie is for you? Well, I don't want to retell the Aristocrats joke, because that would surely garner me some Google hits I don't need. You'll have to do your own research. You can go to the ifilm site and watch clips like the South Park version of the joke. (Warning: You're not gonna wanna watch that at work or with kids in earshot.) If you recoil in disgust, The Aristocrats is not the movie for you. If you laugh and are intrigued, then find a theater near you that's willing to show the movie (i.e., not the AMC chain) or wait for the DVD. A filthy, graphic joke told by a mime? Priceless. You won't want to miss it.

Calling all preemie parents, past and future

Today's New York Times Magazine has a must-read article by Paul Raeburn, "A Second Womb." For years, there's been evidence of cognitive deficits in kids who started out as preemies or low-birth-weight infants. This article suggests that the NICU environment may be partly responsible for this. The bright lights and loud noises are so different from the experience in utero, and gravity and flat Isolette beds make it hard for preemies to curl up the way they did before birth.

Heidelise Als is a developmental psychologist at Harvard Medical School and Children's Hospital. She's been focusing on the NICU from a baby's standpoint: how does a tiny baby react to the stimuli? What is he missing from the womb environment? How can the NICU be made to more closely approximate the womb, easing the baby's transition to the outside world and cushioning his brain from the sensory assault?

Als has a bold but eminently logical idea for NICU design: Place each infant in his own warm, climate-controlled "womb room" where his family could stay full-time until he was ready to go home from the hospital. Of course, no hospital has the space and funding to provide womb rooms for each preemie, but it's good to have an ideal to shoot for.

The article is sobering. I read it and was sad for Ben's experience in his first 40 days on the outside. It was bright, with small windows and a bank of fluorescent lights. It was loud, with nurses, doctors, and parents talking, with other babies crying, with monitors shrieking alarms without notice. It wasn't very cozy in his Isolette or, later, in his open bed. We couldn't hold him much of the time. If he was sleeping, we usually let him be. My husband went to work in the daytime, and I had to visit the pumping room every 2 to 3 hours. We returned home each evening, so it was Ben in a box alone every night. (At least the staff dimmed the overhead lights at night.)

Ben's brain wiring is a tad off, as you might suspect after reading the NYT article. He needed extra time (and lots of speech therapy) to learn to communicate verbally (thankfully, he's all caught up now). The way he processes sensory input isn't quite right, and while he's essentially a normal, healthy kid, if he doesn't have his weekly occupational therapy sessions, his behavior degenerates markedly. I don't know how he'll do in the noisy kindergarten environment, and I don't know if he'll exhibit any learning disabilities (such challenges are not uncommon in kids who were born prematurely). No specific cause has been identified for the sensory issues, to my knowledge; plenty of kids who were born at term have similar problems. But I can't help suspecting that being ripped untimely from his mother's womb played a role in Ben's brain developing the way it has.

Ben's smart, curious, observant, social, and active (and has an innate talent for schmoozing). He has educated and involved parents who pay attention to his development and seek out any interventions that might help. But if the NICU had been a warmer, more soothing environment—set up per Als's recommendations—and better eased Ben's transition into the outside world, would he need those OT sessions to keep on an even keel? I wonder. I do wonder.

Approaching a milestone

Hey, Orange Tangerine is about a week away from hitting the 10,000-hit mark! (Um, that's cumulative. You people who get 2,000+ hits a day can just go bask in your fame and stew in your own juices.) While we do not have any door prizes to offer, we are excited here in Tangerine Land. I'd love to offer the 10,000th customer a free shopping spree here at the store, but there is no store here.

My birthday is nigh upon us as well (in a mere two days!). I will be delighted to accept your gracious birthday wishes. Fortunately, this birthday is not a milestone year, and I don't really want to think about that next milestone birthday. (Gifts optional.)

Search terms that entice my readers

The number-one most popular search term that has brought people to Orange Tangerine is...erectionphotos. Which I mentioned back on May 17, after Esquire magazine mentioned it. Just so you know, let me go on the record: I have not posted, and will not post, erection photos. This site is really much more text-driven. (Similarly, brazilian waxing pictorial cannot be found here.)

Then there are the obligatory logical searches for orangetangerine or some version thereof, and a few people looking for finslippy (she's right over there in the blogroll).

The rest of the search terms were entered by one sad individual apiece, typically looking for something they're not going to find here. Erotic correspondence? I can't be sure—who knows what I might write in a fugue state?—but I really don't recall blogging about that. It fits right in with my text-driven nature, sure, but...I think the person who clicked over here looking for something like Penthouse Forum was probably disappointed.

Next we have "drop a couple pounds" parody. Huh? And "john roberts" combover. Does he have a combover? I really haven't been paying attention. Mother son wrestling" discussion—again? Really, I don't address that. But did I ever tell you about my college roommate who learned to wrestle? Yeah, the wrestling coach, who was also her faculty advisor, was happy to teach her to wrestle. She could practice with the men's wrestling team, but wasn't allowed to compete against wrestlers from other colleges. Long story short, despite their 44-year age difference, the wrestling coach and his protegée fell in love and got married. (He had to "retire" from his posts. It probably didn't help matters that she had rented a room in his house while she was his student, eh?) The bride's stepchildren were older than her. The groom's mother- and father-in-law were younger than him. Shockingly, this marriage founded on the basics of grappling did not last.

My absolute favorite—and I have no idea what the hell this one's about—is bibles that are orange. Welcome, Person Interested in Orange Bibles! Sorry I can't help you. I'm not much of a bible fan.

lip-liner gloss mascara site:blogspot.com? Uh, sorry, nope. wacoal spokesmodel? Hey, that's me! Sorry, no photos of my new bras. Last on the list is what is the meaning of the word tangerine. Hey, I love etymology! I'm guessing it has to do with Tangiers. 'Scuse me while I look that up. Yep, tangerine (the fruit and the associated color) is named after Tangiers, Morocco, whence the first mandarin oranges were shipped to Europe in 1841.

(By the way, yes, I know this sort of post is a sign of lazy blogging. It is slightly less lazy, however, than writing nothing.)

Blogger Meetup: IHOP Edition, Volume 2

The Feral Mom and I lunched at IHOP yesterday, joined by Ben and the Feral Twins, two happy little toddlers who are so sophisticated now, they can handle slices of toast. We chatted about blog stalkers (those people who visit your blog all the time but never, ever leave comments—you know who you are, and would it kill you to leave a comment once in a while?), NICU hassles, and the unfortunate fact that the Feral Cat has not been posting his evil thoughts lately. Those of you who read Gone Completely Feral but have not laid eyes on Her Feralness yourselves, you should know that she's way hotter than her pictures. That last picture, from the NICU—you know, I bet most women look their worst when they're spending their days in a NICU. It's like coming off a 9-month bender (or a 7-month one, in my case), hungover and cotton-mouthed, saggy and lumpy, owning no clothes that fit, with no energy for luxuries like bathing. I'm never showing you my NICU pictures because I looked like a bloated nightmare. (But that's a story for another day.)

Anyway, after we finished eating, one of the Feral Twins dumped a dookie in her diaper, so mom and tot went off to the IHOP john, leaving the other twin with Ben and me. I figured the diaper change was a tough one, and I figured maybe the Feral Mom forgot that she'd picked up the check last time and it was my turn to treat. Maybe she was hiding out in the bathroom to force me to pay, like that guy on "Curb Your Enthusiasm" who always managed to be away from the table when the time came to pay the bill. (When is the next season of that show? I miss it.)

As it turns out, the lengthiness of the visit to the ladies room pertained to Turdgate '05 (if you have the stomach for it, you can read the whole story at Gone Completely Feral). It reminds me of the time Mr. Tangerine and I went to the Shedd Aquarium and witnessed a turtle in the same dire straits the Feral Mom was in. We couldn't take our eyes off the beast. Hovering in the water in his tank, he'd push a turd out, making progress...halfway there, don't give up...and then the turd retreated back inside. Push, push, push...retreat. Push, push, push...retreat. We stuck around for a good half hour (a very good one!) and witnessed no progress, only the slo-mo instant replays of push, push, push...retreat. The poor guy clearly needed a turtle poop wrangler to come along and manually disimpact him. But no one came to his aid. He was left alone in his elemental struggle with nature. Isn't that how it always is?

Free-range chicken

The New York Times tells us that the burgeoning trend in suburban/exurban pets these days is...chickens. Yes, chickens. The membership of the American Poultry Association has tripled in recent years. Many people are raising the smaller bantams, which you don't eat. Maybe you use the eggs, but mainly, you've got yourself a chicken as a pet. And then there are the shows. Who didn't love the movie Best in Show? Just substitute chickens for the dogs, and what could be more entertaining?

I have my suspicions that this chicken craze is expanding geographically. Last weekend, Mr. Tangerine and I took Ben to Navy Pier, where we rented one of those surrey bikes. We pedaled down the paths in Olive Park (Ben ably steering the vehicle) and went past Ohio Street Beach. Right across the street from Lake Point Tower (where I hear Oprah used to live), near some bushes a few feet from the path, we saw...chickens. Two roosters. One a rich reddish brown, one a mottled dark brown and white. I hopped off the bike and went toward them (am I not fearless?), and they retreated into the brush. (Ha! They're so chicken!) WTF? Does anyone know why there are free-range chickens in the heart of downtown Chicago? Anyone?

Do you fug?

How often do you stop by Go Fug Yourself to join in Heather and Jessica's mocking of celebrities' misguided fashion choices? Me, I go just about every single day. Sometimes more than once a day. There's a lovely picture of Pamela Anderson with Charo, "representing what Pamela Anderson will be thirty years from now." Ouch, and yes.

Back in the day, readers could add their own snarky comments, but then too many people started referring to skankily clad actresses as sluts and things took a misogynist turn. So the posts are closed to comments, but you can still be super-snarky in your own head.

If you're bored, go make fun of famous people who should know better than to leave the house looking like that.

Hail to the Coward

Yesterday, Bitch Ph.D. wrote about Cindy Sheehan, the woman who's camped out in Crawford, Texas, asking to speak to President Bush about her son, an Army specialist who was killed in Iraq last year.

Maureen Dowd is back from her leave and picks up the same issue in her column today. Dowd writes, the president's "rigidly controlled environment allows no chance encounters with anyone who disagrees. He never has to defend himself to anyone, and that is cognitively injurious. He's a populist who never meets people - an ordinary guy who clears brush, and brush is the only thing he talks to." She continues, "W.'s idea of consolation was to dispatch Stephen Hadley, the national security adviser, to talk to Ms. Sheehan, underscoring the inhumane humanitarianism of his foreign policy. Mr. Hadley is just a suit, one of the hard-line Unsweet Neo Cons who helped hype America into this war."

Dowd mentions the 1,835 servicemen and women who have lost their lives in Iraq, along with 13,000+ who have been injured, many grievously. Yesterday, driving near a hospital campus, I saw a young, attractive woman in a wheelchair, missing both legs and one arm. My mother suggested that the woman may have recently returned from Iraq. I don't know if that's the case, but it's certainly plausible. How else might a young, healthy-looking woman have come to lose three limbs? A recent episode of "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" featured an Iraq veteran, a 20-something guy using a wheelchair to get around because his legs hurt too much to walk. Then there was the memorial service in Ohio for the 14 Marines who had been based there.

As Dowd points out, all the president needs to do is invite Cindy Sheehan in for tea and speak with her face to face. Compared with the huge sacrifices so many have made for Bush's war, is it really too much to ask of him? He utterly lacks courage.

Just a note to add a link to Pat Oliphant's cartoon on the subject.

Oddball dream

This morning, I dreamed that Mr. Tangerine and I were driving around in his crack dealer's car, and I demanded to be let out. So I got out and went back home, where I was locked out but the neighbors were all very sociable. Eventually, I think the mister returned, zonked out.

After I woke up, I related this dream to Mr. Tangerine, who was gently reassuring. He wouldn't use any crack, he says. "Just black-tar heroin." (What does that even mean?)

I love a funny man, I do.

I got...nothin'

It's been a couple days, so I should really post. But what should I say? I'm drawing a ginormous blank.

Ben started the supplemental day camp (two weeks in August after the six-week camp ended) this morning and had a fantastic time. The six-week camp had been preceded by a mandatory parent meeting—did I tell y'all about that?—in which The Handbook of Rules was distributed and The Questions of Nervous Parents were addressed. (My two favorite questions from that meeting: "Will there be a clown on the first day?" and "Is there someone to help hold the kids up so they don't fall into the toilet?") The six-week camp was also beset by swarms of hyperfertile yuppies. Most of the time, I go about my business blithely unaware of my quasi-non-fertility (or whatever it's called). But these women! With their raging uteri! Escorting their preschoolers to camp, toting toddlers in strollers, and pregnant or nursing a baby to boot. It's not a neighborhood that seemed to have a lot of three-child families. I mean, this is the city! There's no parking! How can people survive, trying to pack a suburban lifestyle into a congested urban area? Sheesh.

This two-week camp is at a different Chicago Park District facility, and there are 30 kids instead of 100. I was not beset by hordes of successful breeders, so that was nice. And there was no parent meeting, nope. Drop off your kid, fill out the emergency-contact form, and go. If Ben likes it just as much as the first camp, damn, I'll sign him up for the whole summer at this facility next year. They even have an outdoor pool. ("Swim day" at the first camp involved hoses putting about seven inches of water in three wading pools. And that's what the yuppies fight to get their kids into!)

Four weeks from tomorrow, kindergarten starts. And I will be liberated! For 5 hours and 45 minutes a day. I can't wait! And Ben? Wants school to start tomorrow.

See? Like I said up front. I got nothin'. I have a couple memes I want to fill out sometime, but not right now. One-time-only offer: What do you want me to write about next? I'm taking requests. (Can't swear I'll answer the requests, but I'm taking them.)

I resent the implication

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

(Via After School Snack.)

Krugman on the undermining of science

Paul Krugman's column today is must reading. The 25-words-or-less summary: The SOBs on the right are trying to sow doubt about evolution just like they did with the facts of global warming, and their sneaky methods might work. Okay, so that's 28 words.

Slightly longer summary: Right-wing think tanks, funded by big business, promoted unfounded ideas like trickle-down economics in recent decades. Since then, they've mucked around with the issue of global warming so much that plenty of people think the scientific data are inconclusive, and that maybe none of this so-called global warming is actually happening. Hey, wasn't it really cold that one week in January? Those liberals are just making things up now. After attempts at pushing "creation science" flopped, the right-wingers realized they just needed to implement the same plan, inventing "intelligent design" and pretending that the issue of evolution isn't settled, that it's subject to debate. The science teachers of Kansas were hip to this, of course, and refused to join the "debates" several months back.

All of this gets obfuscated in the media, where reporters bend over backwards to demonstrate that they don't have a liberal bias. Krugman writes, "I once joked that if President Bush said that the Earth was flat, the headlines of news articles would read, 'Opinions Differ on Shape of the Earth.' The headlines on many articles about the intelligent design controversy come pretty close."

If you haven't read the column yet, please do.

Ad-susceptible boy misses a beat

Today at day camp, the kids had a visit from Ronald McDonald. Ben came out of this naked attempt to cultivate young fast-food customers with a slight misperception: He said they saw Old McDonald. (No mention of a farm, or a quack quack here or there, or a string of vowels.)

Back at home, Ben's been launching various "promotions." He knows Happy Meal toys are promotional in nature, but hasn't grasped the meaning of the word. At times, he arranges a zillion stuffed animals on his bed so that they're all looking the same way with their dead, plastic eyes, and announces the event: "Mom, there's a promotion in my bedroom. Come and see!" Who can resist?

A bumper sticker

Charlie over at Shades of Grey occasionally takes pictures of vehicles sporting way too many rah-rah ribbon magnets. He can't top the van I see periodically with at least 15 or 20 magnets on the back (I so have to get a camera phone!), but he could fight back with this bumper sticker I saw on the road today. For those too busy to click that link, I'll tell you what it says: there's a red, white, and blue ribbon beside text reading, "I support patrio-fascist groupthink."

The same car (well, actually an SUV) also had a sticker saying that if you like religion in the schools, you should send your kid to school in Iran. Zing!

(Hi, Charlie!)

Roll call

Okay, I know I haven't been minding the store very well lately. I started up a new blog (a crossword thang) and it's cut into my Orange Tangerine time. And I've been forgetting to chat in the Comments Parlor, too. But tell me—who am I writing for? I know the handful of regular commenters, but there are a lot of you lurkers who never say "boo." Please drop a line and (1) tell me something funny, (2) describe who you are, (3) talk about the weather (boy, is it getting hot and muggy around here!), or (4) at least say "boo." Don't be shy. I won't bite.

Hearing people I voted for on the radio: sighhhh

Remember a couple months back when I heard Barack Obama on public radio and totally swooned? Today, I sat in the car for an extra 10 minutes, shushing my kid, because Bill Clinton was being interviewed. Because many of you probably missed the interview, and because it's possible some of the content will make you swoon, herewith a summary:

re: Supreme Court nominee John Roberts—Bill says he strikes him as a good guy, but (and there has to be a "but") he has some concerns about his Reagan-administration work. Apparently there were instances when Roberts was to the right of his DOJ colleagues, and that can't be good.

re: Iraq—He doesn't agree with those calling for a withdrawal date to be set. He argues that setting a date is equivalent to saying "this effort can't succeed," and that the insurgents would then just wait for that date. The elections have already taken place, and the Iraqi constitution is in the midst of being written. He'd like to see the goals met before any pull-out plans are made. (Not swooning here; not sure how I feel on the subject.)

re: mortality—Since Bill's father died before he was born, he's always been more aware of his own mortality than other people. However, he was always "healthy as a horse," so he could push hard and work hard and not worry about it. When his heart surgery and lengthy recuperation came along, he was reminded again of that mortality thing, and it strengthened his resolve to do everything he can to make sure other people don't die unnecessarily. The American Heart Association asked him to capitalize on his situation to help raise awareness of heart disease, and he has opted to focus on the issue of childhood obesity. Also in the vein of preventing deaths, he's working on AIDS in Africa; currently some effort he's involved with (anyone know the name?) provides AIDS drugs to 110,000 people, with plans to cover 300,000.

re: Hillary—Will Hillary run for president? And does he want her to? First, Bill says, she has to win reelection to the Senate; if the folks in NY don't ratify her performance in office, there'd be no point running for president. Then (here comes the swooning) he went on and on about how gifted she is, a strong leader, so wise, gifted, wise, not to mention incredibly gifted, so it would be nice for the country if she served it. But selfishly, he says, he'd love for Hillary to have more time to relax and have fun. He gave her that 1,000 Places to See Before You Die book for Christmas, and there are plenty of places left for them to see together. Awww...

The interviewer wished Bill a happy birthday, though his 59th isn't until August 19. Gotta love a fellow Leo! Plus he's articulate, and it makes me so nostalgic to remember a time when we had an articulate president. (Will swoon for articulateness.)

Healthy skepticism

Remember the news story a couple months ago about the pregnant woman with undetected melanoma who was brain-dead from a cancer-related stroke? And her husband kept her body on life support so she could continue serving as an incubator? Well, that body has now undergone a C-section at roughly 26 weeks of gestation, and a baby weighing 1 lb., 13 oz. and 13.5 in. long has been born. According to a news article, "the baby appears healthy, said the girl's uncle." A lot of 26-weekers do start out on ventilators, so perhaps already the baby (named Susan after her quasi-late mother) resembles her mother. It's expected that adult Susan's life support will be turned off soon, and her widower can move his vigil from her hospital room to baby Susan's NICU. While the uncle describes the baby as "healthy," she's likely to remain hospitalized for a good 3 months or so (many preemies stay in the NICU until they are close to their original due date; those with complications may stay longer).

The idea of keeping a body nominally "alive" for months (about 3 months in this case) to gestate a fetus gives me the willies. Yes, I have sympathy for the family that has suffered a terrible tragedy, but it seems like a precariously slippery slope to walk out on without a better pair of cleats. Predictably, the National Pro-Life Action Center issued a statement last night, saying in part: "This has reaffirmed the incalculable value and sanctity of every human life from conception to natural death." If it makes sense for a woman whose brain has ceased working at 15 weeks of gestation to have others decide to use her body as an incubator (her husband says this is what she would have wanted, and that may well be), it's not that far a stretch for others to decide that a healthy woman in the early second trimester of pregnancy should also continue serving as a vessel, whether or not she wants to.

I suspect some of you think I'm completely wrong on this, but that's my two cents' worth.

The right-wingers that right-wingers love to hate

From Right Wing News comes the following list of "Least Favorite People on the Right." The voting was done by 47 bloggers on the right (number of votes in parentheses):

1) Pat Buchanan (28)
2) John McCain (21)
3) Ann Coulter (20)
4) Pat Robertson (19.5)
5) Michael Savage (17)
6) Bill O'Reilly (16)
7) Jerry Falwell (15.5)
8) Arlen Specter (10)
9) Sean Hannity (8)
9) Rick Santorum (8)
11) Tucker Carlson (7)
11) Bob Novak (7)
13) Andrew Sullivan (6)
14) Tom DeLay (5)
14) Rush Limbaugh (5)
14) George Voinovich (5)
14) Chuck Hagel (5)
18) Tom Tancredo (4)
18) Ralph Reed (4)
18) Newt Gingrich (4)
18) Lincoln Chafee (4)
18) James Dobson (4)
18) George Pataki (4)
18) Arnold Schwarzenegger (4)

Hey! Aside from the notable absence of Bush administration names, I have to say most of these are right on target for liberals, too! Except John McCain and Arlen Specter are not-so-bad Republicans, and at least Newt ("Dump Your Wife When She's Sick") Gingrich is hanging out with Hillary these days. Personally, I'd add Bush, Cheney, Rove, and Scalia, just for starters.

Rod Blagojevich may have a lousy rep

...but he sure knows how to suck up to women voters in Illinois. Gov. Rod already issued an executive order that pharmacists can't come between women and birth control pills or emergency contraception. And today, he's signed legislation to allow any nursing mother to skip jury duty if she wants to. Illinois also has a law, passed last year, that nursing mothers can't be asked to leave someplace just because they're breastfeeding. It sure is nice to have a Democratic-controlled state legislature and a Democratic governor who will have to fight for reelection.

They say women will vote for him because he has great hair; I say the hairdo is cheesy and Rod looks like a local newscaster from the late '80s. I'll vote for him if his stance on women's issues and everything else I hold dear is better than the other candidates' stances (which was the case when he first ran for governor). Though if he had a gruesome combover, it would be a lot harder to cast a vote for him, because we girls are shallow creatures.

As*hole

Bush appoints Bolton as U.N. ambassador.