What with the pope in town and all…

I think it’s time for me to come forward with this.  I was emotionally traumatized by Jamie Gibson, Jessica Gibson’s half-sister, before she started working for Rob Lowe. 

This was a difficult time in my past, but I need people to know the truth: The Gibson girls played me for a sucker, and now they’re doing it to Rob.  Their uncle, Mel, has always been jealous of Rob’s good looks – Mel got better roles, but Rob got all the babes. 

Of course, since Rob Lowe’s uncle is none other than US Senator Larry Craig, those family events could get testy, particularly when the Lowes had the Craigs over and the Gibson girls were working.  I was passing out towels left and right! 

But yes, sadly, little Jamie emotionally traumatized me by words and deeds, deeds to terrible to tell – I would not shock your virgin ears, nor sear your virgin eyes, dear reader, by describing the lurid and titillating details of my debasement at her hands – and feet, among other appendages.  Suffice it to say that I was, at a tender age, emotionally traumatized. 

Darn those Gibson girls!

Addendum:  

Dag-nabbit!  Here I was all happy that I’d worked in Mel Gibson and Larry Craig, and durned if I didn’t clean forget about Jessica and Jamie’s older sister Debbie.  After all, she’s having Rob Lowe’s two-headed love child!

A Reading From the Gospel

As my gift to you on this glorious April Fool’s Day, I present part of the Gospel from the Book of BUMD, starting just after the passage about the nun, the rabbi, and the Easter Bunny:

4.1.  Thus have I heard, Theophilus, and stop me if I’ve told you this in that other book.

4.2  And it came to pass in those days that the Lord God sent a message to all the children of the earth, ye, even unto the house where dwelleth the Daughter Who Repeateth All That Thou Sayest, and dwelleth the Very Noisy Seven-Year-Old, and even where dwelleth the Reigning Queen of Pink, High Duchess of Fluff, and Protector of Barbies.  To all the children of the earth, even to these, was the message sent.

4.3  And the Message of the Lord was that while, lo, it was true that the great and everlovin’ God Above does indeed love all the little chillen of the world, He loves the quiet ones MORE.  And they getteth better Christmas presents, since God and Santa are, like, totally BFF.

4.4  So all the children of the world, ye, even those who dwelleth in the house of the BUMD, quit their bellyaching and stayed in their damn beds.

4.5  And it was good.  And quiet.

White Hat

No point, really, but here goes:

My lover wears a white shirt / My lover wears a white hat
My lover’s wearing tight black jeans / And I’m alright with that

My lover likes a tight fit / My lover likes a slow hand
My lover likes an old-fashioned man / And I’m alright with that

I’m alright / (She wears a white hat)
I’m alright / (She likes a slow hand)
I’m alright / She’s wearing fuzzy pink pajamas
And I’m alright with that

My love is like the North Star / My lover likes the North Pole
My love is getting red hot, baby / And I’m alright with that

I’m alright / (She wears a white hat)
I’m alright / (She likes the North Pole)
I’m alright / She’s wearing fuzzy pink pajamas
And I’m alright with that

White hat
Red hot
Alright
Alright
Well alright

You needed a song just now anyway, and you can probably figure out the tune.  Hum it until you hear it on the radio. 

 
And Now, For Something Completely Different:
Candygram

Headline Roundup With the Big Ugly Man Doll

First, we doff our propeller beanie hats at the passing of one of the greats, perhaps the last of the dinosaurs.  Hard core science fiction has known giants, and Arthur C. Clarke, who died on Wednesday at the age of 90, was one of the last of the greats, upon whose shoulders I am not worthy to stand.  Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein, and Frank Herbert were the other three of the four pillars supporting all who came after and will come heretofore.  The stars take no notice, but every satellite in geosynchronous orbit is hanging just a little lower in the sky this week.  “Absolutely no religious rites of any kind, relating to any religious faith, should be associated with my funeral” were the instructions he left, so it’s a shame that (the also late and lamented) Kurt Vonnegut isn’t still here to inject some levity with a line like he used to eulogize Asimov: “Well, Arthur is up in Heaven now.” 

Next, a recent CDC report stated that just over one in four teenage girls has an STD.  If you’re a girl between the ages of 13 and 19, talk to your three best friends.  If they’re all clean, you just might be a skanky ho.  Talk to your doctor.

Finally, a new statement attributed to al Qaeda leader Osama bin Laden condemns European countries for a change.  The strident condemnation was for siding with the US in Afghanistan and for allowing the publication of cartoons considered insulting to Islam’s prophet, Mohammed.  The net effect was to ensure that bin Laden’s death will precipitate a new EU holiday as well as a national holiday in the United States.

Stay tuned for more news: as it happens, when it happens, whatever happened, and pass the beer nuts.

Joy Comes in the Morning

So, sure, I can take a few days off from typing here. Why? Because I’m the Big, Ugly Man Doll, that’s why. What’s the point of being fascinatingly crazy big and ugly if you can’t kick back once in a while, eh?

 
Just to bring you up to speed from when last we left our hero: I’ve been working, and if you think that’s hard to believe, wait ‘til you hear what else has been going down.
 
First, I have to come right out and tell you: I’m a torturer. I mean, let’s not go all ASPCA on each other and everything, but yeah, I saw the shot and took it. Yeah, on the cat. No, I’m not proud. But hey, it was like he was begging for it, you know what I mean? I mean, there I was, taking my weekly shower, and the cat climbs up between the shower curtain and the plastic sheet on the inside of the tub, where I can see him standing there, looking at me, taunting me. Have you ever been taunted by a cat?
 
So I took down the hose and I waterboarded that furry bastard. Not that I condone such methods, not that I would ever recommend nor approve their use, but under repeated torture the subject gave up the location of the Barbie who went missing last week, the names of his unindicted co-conspirators, and the location of the rebel base. (He’s far too trusting.) Then he hopped down and sauntered off, tail in the air. A tough guy.
 
The Barbie, by the way, will remain missing – I’m not going in there after her, never mind that I know where she’s being held. That’s Ken’s job. Besides, that doll was probably asking for it.
 
Have you ever noticed that from about 50 feet away, with the volume down, Jimmy Buffet sounds just like John Denver? I better turn that up. Or get my hearing checked.
 
In other news, I’m proud to announce that for the first time in nearly 3 years, I can finally button all my shirts at the neck again! Gym memberships cost about $500, and replacing every one of those damn shirts was not only cheaper and faster than losing the weight, but a LOT more satisfying. Lowered my heart attack risk, too – exercise can be deadly!
 
So yes indeed, Joy comes in the morning.  Usually after her asshole husband has left for the office.
 
On a closing note, go check your credit records. SOBUMD just checked ours, only to find that some Romeo got hold of our MasterCard information and ran up a couple hundred bucks in charges. OK, lesse, you’re an enterprising young single person and you have someone else’s credit card number – what do you do? That’s right, you run up charges on www.match.com, www.americansingles.com, and 1-800-FLOWERS. Yeah, you’re MY dream date, pal! Why do I hear Barbara Streisand and Neil Diamond… 
You don't steal me flowers / You don't filk me love songs
You hardly talk to me anymore / When you pick up the phone
On the other side of the glass









And baby, I remember
All the things you bought me / All the lessons that you taught me
Well I learned how to phish / And I learned how to lie
You'd think I could learn / How to tell you goodbye
'Cause you don't steal me flowers
Anymore
(Just to be thorough, I waterboarded the cat again.  He swore it wasn’t him, and I can’t prove anything, so I had to let him walk.)
 
Anyway, go check your credit cards.  And next time you meet that nice person on www.HotSinglesLoveYouLongTime.com, check for certain clues: 
  • _Punk Rock Girl_ is playing on the XM (“We hopped into her car and then we started rollin / I asked how much you pay for this she said nothin man it’s stolen”).  Note make of vehicle.
  • Notice if your date seems inclined to spend money on you beyond their obvious means, or beyond what you know you’re really worth.
  • Ask who’s footing the bill for the evening, and take special note if they respond with something like, “Oh, just some big, ugly man doll.”

You are authorized to use waterboarding if necessary.