Posts from — August 2009
I Watched Funny People and What I Learned about Male Factor Infertility
Updated at the bottom:
Perhaps don’t read at work…
We live in a penis obsessed culture.
A penis obsessed, testicle obsessed, t’aint obsessed culture.
And by default, we live in a sperm obsessed, sperm power obsessed, sexual prowess obsessed culture.
In Funny People–a 136 minute film–how many times do you think male genitalia was mentioned by the parade of comedians marching across the screen? 487. 487 times in a 136 minute film about a comedian dying of a blood disease.
Okay, so I didn’t count, but it felt like 487 times. It was probably somewhere close. Judd Apatow–how many times did you mention male genitalia in the film? This seems like it should be a Twitterable fact. Penis counting.
But the county fair was closed, I only thought about going swimming post-shower, and we weren’t in the mood for a meal out on our date night (the siren song of ramen is that loud). So we stuck with the original plan of seeing Funny People, despite the fact that it has a blood disease in it. Despite the fact that I had been warned that it wasn’t just a long movie; it felt like a long movie.
I cannot think of a profession that I’d be less suited to hold than comedian. I think I could do a better job with marine biologist despite the fact that I don’t actually understand how oysters exist. I mean, first and foremost, I’m not funny. Secondly, I’m not good at memorizing things or getting up in front of people or leaving my house. But I love watching movies that show you the backstage life of comedians such as…well…The Comedian. Or The Aristocrats. Or…The Comedian because these are the only two movies I can think of that show you that life offstage.
The only reason I would ever want the job of comedian (even though, as we’ve already decided, I can’t have it because I would suck at it) is for that offstage camaraderie that passes from one comedian to the next. I like to imagine myself around the table back stage, nursing a diet coke and listening to everyone exchanging their best jokes (I’m not really participating in these daydreams because I wouldn’t really have anything to contribute despite the fact that if I’m backstage, it would mean that at some point, I would have to go on-stage).
And I’m savvy enough on backstage life (you know, from watching The Aristocrats in a theater) to know that the jokes that come from the men or are directed to men usually contain at minimum cock, balls, sperm, or a combination of two or more from the list. Men do not talk about their elbows or the size of their calves and if they refer to other body parts at all, it is usually to draw attention to their lack of definition.
And that’s just the way it is. We live in a dick obsessed culture–not just figurative dicks like the ones Colbert skewers in his opening monologues–but actual dicks. When we see them, it’s titillating. When we don’t, it’s comedy.
At this point, the bread of the sandwich ends, and the teller can add whatever meat they prefer, the raunchier, the better. This is a guesstimation of what I told; only one detail sticks out in my memory and was definitely in the version I told:
The father politely pulls out a balloon and blows it up, twisting it into the shape of dog. He hands the boy the balloon animal and he begins masturbating using the looped canine ear. As he cums, the man’s wife catches the semen in a saucier pan, boils it down on a small camp stove, and serves it to the talent agent over a roasted chicken breast on a bed of rice. The son in turn fucks his sister, who promptly has a baby fall to the floor from her vagina, picks it up, sings rock-a-bye-baby, and drops it into a portable cradle. The wife does three cartwheels across the room, landing in an upside down position with her knees over her husband’s shoulders. She unzips his pants with her teeth and begins sucking him off on the spot. Their children join in on the action, becoming a frenzied multi-armed, multi-legged sex creature out of a Danielle Steel nightmare, climax in a four-way orgasm, and land on one knee, their fingers wildly flailing in jazz hands.
The agent asks what the hell they call something like that and the father answers, “the Aristocrats.”
We were driving down this empty road, tears streaming down our faces as I told it. It was still before we were trying to conceive. It was back when sex equaled baby because all one needed was manly enough sperm. Right?
We never experienced male factor infertility–the problems were all mine–and I’m not sure I really understood the deeper secrecy surrounding male infertility until I started reading blogs. It’s just a medical condition, why would it be a bigger deal than having a wonky uterus or missing fallopian tubes or a clotting disorder? Why would it be harder to talk about in public?
I don’t know. It just is.
Because women do not joke with other women about the size of their uterus or the shape of their uterus. We don’t boast that our eggs are so fresh that they get impregnated in a second. If we boast at all, it’s about the prowess of our husbands (“he just has to look at me!”). Women may talk about how fertile they are, but they don’t joke about how fertile they are.
Maybe it is so difficult to talk about male factor infertility because of that current that flows whether it is from comedian to comedian or athlete to athlete or businessman to businessman–that size matters, that producing sperm matters, that having mobile sperm with a well-shaped head that can impregnate a woman matters. If not, why would it be at the center of all jokes?
By which, at its heart, we know there is only so much joking in our joking, and no man wants to be the one who is not seen as virile, who is not seen as someone Darwin would point out as a shoo-in to get to perpetuate the species. Not because it matters, not because it’s the sperm that makes the man, and we certainly know from Parenthood that any “butt-reaming asshole can be a father.” But because we have made it so taboo, so enormous, we have eleva
ted the importance of something microscopic, of something hidden, of something that is also a vessel of removing waste from the body. A tube. A sac of skin.
I don’t want my son to ever feel like he needs to compete in this oneupmanship and yet, at the same time, I want Josh to pass along every good comeback he came up with ten minutes too late to use himself. I want to coach him like comedians perform for one another as a form of exercise. I want him to be the end of this line of self-esteem bashing and I want him to ride the crest and be the one who skates through unscathed. I assume we can’t have it both ways.
I got my period the next day. Late movie tears explained.
And like so many things that are only funny up to a point, only funny when you’ve hit the right person, hit the jackpot in terms of a lack of backstory, we got in our car, not laughing, muttering about how we were sure that was funny in some world. It just really wasn’t funny in ours.
Cue laugh track.
Update:
Like Somewhat Ordinary says below, I too would love to hear from men who have male factor or women whose husband’s have male factor about how they processed their diagnosis in the face of a society who has their condition as the punchline.
August 25, 2009 38 Comments
Pull Up a Seat
It seemed like the perfect time to open the doors of the Virtual Lushary and encourage everyone to get good and figuratively drunk, distracting them from searching for a post that fits the first clue.
A toast: to Blogger Bingo! Long may it be played.
In addition to pouring drinks, I am serving ice cream today. Big scoops of rocky road or mint chocolate chip or vanilla.
My perfect moment (how many things can I work into one post–the Virtual Lushary, Blogger Bingo and now Perfect Moment Monday?) came on Saturday after the Our-Family-Beginnings-and-Stirrup-Queens crews went to get ice cream outside in the rain after surviving Costco (and grinding 6 pounds of coffee–just in case you ever wondered how I do so much. It’s the 6 pounds of coffee. Don’t judge me).
Which doesn’t sound like a good idea in theory (and perhaps wasn’t a good idea once it came time to walk back to our cars), but was excellent in practice. I got caramel explosion ice cream with bits of Twix cookie and we sat at a table under this huge umbrella. You could hear the rain hitting the thick umbrella, but we were all mostly dry. And we got to eat ice cream in the middle of the day, before dinner. Some of my favourite people all around one table, in the rain, eating ice cream. Talk about a perfect moment.
List your own perfect moment, not here, but at Lori’s list. You can even Twitter it and add the link to the Tweet on her linky thing. Pretty damn cool.
Over here, we’re just discussing what has been happening to you this past month.
As always, it has been about a month since we met, bitched, cried, comforted, and caught up each other on our cycles and lives. Pull up a seat and I’ll pour you a drink. Let everyone know what is happening in your life. The good, the bad, the ugly. My only request is that if a story catches your eye, you follow it back to the person’s blog and start reading their posts. Give some love, give some support, or laugh with someone until your drink comes out of your nose.
I have a ton of assvice in my back pocket and as a virtual bartender, I will give it to you unless you specifically tell me that this is simply a vent and you do not want to receive anything more than a hug.
So if you have been a lurker for a while (or if this is your first open bar as someone who found this space through IComLeavWe or Blogger Bingo), sit down and tell us about yourself. Remember to provide a link or a way for people to continue reading your story (or if you don’t have a blog–gasp!–you can always leave an email address if you’re looking for advice or support. If not, people can leave messages for that person here in the comments section too). If you’re a regular at the bar, I’ll get out your engraved martini glass while you make yourself comfortable. And anyone new, welcome. I’m glad you found this virtual bar.
For those who have no clue what I’m talking about when I say that the bar is open, click here to catch up and then jump into the conversation back on this current post.
So have an imaginary cocktail and tell us what is up with your life.
August 24, 2009 62 Comments
Last Minute Blogger Bingo Minutiae
Updated:
The first round of Blogger Bingo is about to get underway tomorrow morning and so it seemed like a fine time to go through the rules one more time. Just to explain how the game is played because it’s really very simple.
- Every morning, I will pick a card from the pack that has one of the categories found on your game board written on it. I will leave the category of the day in that permanent post found at the top of my blog that has a link to the current LFCA and current BlogHer post and general status. If I can’t post for some reason, there will be a note there directing you to the person who is posting the clue for me that day (I’m not sure how long the game will last–it could technically last 24 days!).
- In addition to the category, I will also give you a date range for the post, such as “before August 15, 2009” or “after September 2008.”
- You will use the participant list (which is super easy to find because I replaced one of the header buttons with a “Blogger Bingo” button–look up at the top of the blog, under the title banner–with a link to the post that holds the list) to find a post that matches the category. For instance, if the category is “a post that made you gasp written after August 3, 2009”, you will click around until you find something personally gasp-worthy that was written after August 3, 2009 from any blog on the participant list. You will bookmark that post or hold the url somewhere because you will need to send it in if you get bingo.
- Leave a comment on the post that tells the person you read their post (in other words, something beyond “great post!”).
- Once you use a post from a person’s blog, you can’t use that blog again for another square. It spreads out the love.
- When you get five in a row, email me with Bingo! in the subject line. In the email, list the name of the category, the url of the post, and why you think it fits (you can get creative here).
- The first person to do so wins. Except that everyone is a winner in my heart.
Oh–one thing I never said, but is certainly something you could do. If you don’t have time that day to search for a blog entry, at least stop by and write down the category of the day somewhere and look up two days worth the next day (or save up five days worth and do it on the weekend). I will erase the category of the day after 24 hours so you’ll need to write it down somewhere if you want to look up the posts later. Does the person who finds the entry every day have a leg-up? Sure. But the point of the game isn’t to make yourself anxious. And the timestamp on your comment doesn’t need to be from the day the category was listed; the timestamps just need to be a bit spread out to show that you didn’t wait until you were close to bingo to go backwards and comment.
Anything I didn’t answer? Questions you still have? Check here too because I went through a bunch of what ifs towards the end of the post.
It’s your last chance to sign up–the list closes tonight at 11 p.m. (EST) and then the game begins…
Moved the questions up from the comment box to answer them:
1. What if for one of the catagories I find a post in the right date range and from the list, but on which I had already previously commented? Is that comment good enough [assuming it was not a “great post” type of comment]?
Yes, that should definitely suffice. Because even an old comment would mark that you were there and read the post in full.
2. What about international players – the date stamp is it going to be affected by our time zones.
I don’t think that will be a problem. The timestamps don’t have to be on a certain day. They just have to be spread out so that someone doesn’t run backwards and only leave comments if they think they’re close to bingo. And when I say a date, it’s the date on the post–which means that you go by the time/day of when the post was written even if it would have been the next day or the day before where you are living.
August 23, 2009 11 Comments
Friday Blog Roundup
We took the twins to see their first movie last weekend–Ponyo. It’s the story about a little fish who wants to be a girl, a weak plotted version of the Little Mermaid (where once the fish tastes human blood, all she wants in the world is to be a little girl. It’s just like when you eat a hamburger and all you want to do, with all your heart, enough to leave your family behind forever, is to turn into a cow).
Absolutely necessary to watch a movie in a theater for the first time: three stuffed animals, two necklaces, a bracelet, and a bag of chocolate chips. The Wolvog watched the first 80 minutes from Josh’s lap and finally decided that he could handle having his own seat even though movies are simply too intense to combine with eating. The ChickieNob handled the first 90 minutes in her own seat, but moved into my lap for the remainder.
The most exciting moment in the film came when the mother served the children ramen noodles. Ramen noodles! After our own successful ramen noodle chase which unfolded over Twitter last Friday night. There is only one vegan ramen noodle option out there and Josh drove to three stores to find it; a truer sign of his devotion than the sea king asking the little boy if, you know, he could love Ponyo whether she was a fish or human. Did you hear that, Fujimoto? My husband drove to three stores to buy me the saltiest food known to man. That is love; that is devotion.
Eating ramen reminds me of a spring in college where I boasted that I could eat for under $3 a day. And I did. Two meals of ramen noodles (which came to 40 cents), a cucumber (about 75 cents) and the rest on coffee. Such a healthy life.
But the absolute best part of the movie came when we walked into the theater. I am such a fucking wholesome person that I have only once stayed in the theater and watched a second film for free. I mean, I have seen two movies in one day, but I have WALKED OUT OF THE THEATER AND PURCHASED A SECOND TICKET. Because I’m that wholesome.
But once–once!–when I was pregnant with the twins, we went to see Shrek 2 and it was so awful that I started crying about how we’d never see a film again once the twins arrived and this was our last chance and it was a terrible film and we wasted it–we wasted it. So Josh told me that we were going to see Mean Girls too. And while I had a massive guilt complex, I went along with the plan, but bought extra popcorn to make up for the thievery.
Of course, I was seven months pregnant so I had to pee every few minutes and it order to get to the bathroom, I had to pass the ticket taker. I could tell that he knew that I had been in the theater and peed way too many times for a single feature, and I had such a huge guilt complex that my heart was literally beating out of my chest like the Tell-Tale Heart, but the man never said anything to me. He would just raise his eyebrows when I passed.
That was the man who took our tickets.
He was not as enthralled to see us as we were to see him.
I’m just saying.
Sort of swallowed by the whole Blogger Bingo thing was that a new book was announced for the online book club. We’re reading Heather Armstrong’s (aka Dooce) book, It Sucked, and Then I Cried… Please join along if you’re interested in discussing the book.
And lastly, in case you missed the email, August’s IComLeavWe begins today. I know–it’s like summer camp over here. But get commenting and finding new blogs to read. This month’s list will close later today. And September’s will open on the 30th.
No Regrets has a post about letting go after stopping IVF. She questions the mourning process–there is not a person to pour the grief into. There are the embryos; all the lost embryos. She writes of the loss: “Nobody showed up with casseroles or thoughtful words with hugs or condolences. Nobody stopped by to share our grief, wipe our tears, or listen to us share our thoughts.” It is a beautiful post about the importance of closure as she mourns her biological children.
Artblog has a post not about seeing a psychic for answers about her future, but mediums, for answers from the past. Though I never went back again, I did once see a psychic/medium and got to communicate with people from my past. My feeling is that whether or not it was real, it gave me the cathartic release I needed to let go of some long-held feelings. And so, in that sense, it was worth the trip. It was just an interesting post about whether or not you’d take the opportunity if you could reach back to your past for answers rather than your future.
The Weekly What If (whoa…what is Mel up to, tucking it in here?): If you could either know answers about your future or connect with someone from your past, which one would you choose?
All Grown Up has a brief post that packs a punch about her friend’s news. I love how her gut and heart are divided amongst the two emotions, it is so real, so honest, and the emotions wholly accessible to so many.
Lastly, Exile in Kidville has a great attitude outlined in her post on the early days of parenthood. She writes about a realization during a difficult patch: “I realized that I spend a lot of time on what is SUPPOSED to be instead of focusing on what IS. There are a lot of d
ifficult parts to motherhood, but I find that many of them can be made easier if I start by looking at them simply for what they ARE.” And how she returns to this idea during a recent sleepless night, transforming her frustration into an opportunity to embrace her son. It’s just a lovely post.
The roundup to the Roundup: Ponyo, Ponyo, it’s a kid fish. Blogger Bingo, Dooce’s book, and IComleavWe. Celebrating Coming Home Day. And lots of great posts to read with the Weekly What If tucked inside.
August 21, 2009 31 Comments
The 66th Circle Time: The Show and Tell Weekly Thread
Show and Tell is wasted on elementary schoolers. Join several dozen bloggers weekly to show off an item, tell a story, and get the attention of the class. In other words, this is Show and Tell 2.0. Everyone is welcome to join, even if you have never posted before and just found out about Show and Tell for the first time today. So yank out a photo of the worst bridesmaid’s dress you ever wore and tell us the story; show off the homemade soup you cooked last night; or tell us all about the scarf you made for your first knitting project. Details on how to participate are located at the bottom of this post.
Let’s begin.
Early in our relationship, Josh and I were in a used bookstore and we each purchased each other a book to read. I bought Josh Adam’s Diary by Knut Faldbakken. For some inexplicable reason, this book has been by the front door for the past three years or so amongst the gardening equipment. This isn’t the reason I’m telling you this story.
In college, I got special permission to take a high-level Scandinavian literature class. It was all graduate students and seniors and a nineteen-year-old me. The course work was really over my head. This was one of the books we read in class. One of the main characters was called Payk and it seemed like there was a joke surrounding this name, but I didn’t get it because I didn’t speak Norwegian and I was reading the book in translation, unlike some of the graduate students.
I called up a friend in Norway and asked him why this would be amusing. I kept saying aloud that the boy’s name is Payk (pronouncing in “p’ache”–like ache, with a p in front of it), never spelling it, and my friend said, “well, I’ve heard Falkbakken is pretty racy. He probably created a name that is close to ‘pikk’ which means ‘cock’.”
I took this information to class.
And I made sure I spoke first in class in order to work in this brilliant assessment of his name. “And, of course,” I said confidently, “Falkbakken continues the sexual themes of the book by working the word ‘pikk’ into the text in the form of Payk’s name.”
And there was silence.
And there were uncomfortable looks exchanged and a few people laughed and the teacher gently said, “the main character’s name is pronounced “Pay Koa”–the two letters “p” and “k” with the Norwegian pronunciation of those letters. Because his name is actually Per Kristian. So PK or Pay-koa (also written Payk) is merely short for Per Kristian. And it would help if you didn’t use words like that in my seminar again.”
Classy!
What are you showing today?
Click here or scroll down to the bottom of this post if this is your first time joining along (Important: link to the permalink for the post, not the main url for your blog and use your blog’s name, not your name. Links not going to a Show and Tell post will be deleted). The list is open from now until late Friday night and a new one is posted every week.
| 1. Becoming Whole 2. Bottoms Off 3. The Road Less Travelled 4. The Infertile Sushi- loving Princess 5. May I Say Something? 6. luna 7. Infertili- T & A 8. Weebles Wobblog 9. Bear and Comedian 10. Building Heavenly Bridges 11. Once A Mother 12. Mrs Spock |
13. Delenn 14. Not A Fertile Myrtle 15. Baby Smiling In Back Seat 16. My Fertility Journey with PCOS 17. Dragondreamer’s Lair 18. Hobbit- ish Thoughts & Ramblings 19. A 20. Birch and Maple 21. Life, Family and the Pursuit of Sanity 22. Mrs M 23. Wise Guy 24. Baby Making Journey |
25. In Due Time 26. Getting There 27. Chelle 28. My Pathway to Motherhood 29. Our Someday Family 30. The Happy Hours 31. In One Ear 32. Parenthood for Me |
- If you would like to join circle time and show something to the class, simply post each Wednesday night (or any time between Wednesday morning and Friday night), hopefully including a picture if possible, and telling us about your item. It can be anything–a photo from a trip, a picture of the dress you bought this week, a random image from an old yearbook showing a person you miss. It doesn’t need to contain a picture if you can’t get a picture–you can simply tell a story about a single item. The list opens every Wednesday night and closes on Friday night.
- You must mention Show and Tell and include a link back to this post in your post so people can find the rest of the class. This spreads new readership around through the list. This is now required.
- Label your post “Show and Tell” each week and then come back here and add the permalink for the post via the Mr. Linky feature (not your blog’s main url–use the permalink for your specific Show and Tell post).
- Oh, and then the point is that you click through all of your classmates and see what they are showing this week. And everyone loves a good “ooooh” and “aaaah” and to be queen (or king) of the playground for five minutes so leave them a comment if you can.
- Did you post a link and now it’s missing?: I reserve the right to delete any links that are not leading to a Show and Tell post or are the blogging equivalent of a spitball.
- If you want it…
I’ve now placed a Show and Tell archive on the sidebar that will be updated each week in case you miss it. And click here for the icon code if you wish to have it for your blog. It links to the archives.
August 19, 2009 35 Comments
