This afternoon, Number One Son, who is all of seven years old, went to see the Dr for his bi-annual checkup. The Dr gave him the once-over and asked him, “How are you?”
Quoth the Number One Son, with no prompting nor warning of any kind: “I’m now leading a tobacco-free lifestyle.”
WTF?
The Dr, to his credit, had the presence of mind to laud his lifestyle choices and ask him what he’d been doing before…
So there we were, innocently gulping our drinks like grownups do, especially grownups with three kids who just won’t STAY IN THEIR DAMNED BEDS, because it’s after 8 PM. Or maybe just because it’s one of those special “drinking” days. You can tell those days – they end with the letter “Y”.
Anyway, SOBUMD was reading her board, when one of the shiny happy people there posted that she’d learned a new yoga position. The post included a picture, which SOBUMD called me over to view and which I sincerely hope was produced in Hollywood and does not depict an actual person, much less a friend of the Spouse Of a Big Ugly Man Doll. It’s called the “Pigeon Pose.”
After some quick research, I found out that this is actually really easy to do, even if you’ve never tried yoga before! First, cut off your right leg with a chainsaw. (Get a friend to tidy up the blood if you’re going to take pictures!) Then, lay on the floor flat on your belly, or as near flat as you can get if you’re built like I am. Last, tuck the dismembered leg under you, crosswise, with the foot on your left side (as pictured).
I’m pretty sure this was used in the Evil Dead Yoga / Step Dancing video. Sam Raimi and Bruce Campbell couldn’t have come up with a better pose, except they might have used more blood for the photo-op. I think the first Evil Dead yoga position was the “Grasping Liberty Pose,” which we were supposed to hold for 60 seconds or until your larynx came out, whichever was first.
Sheesh. I like the “Stool Pigeon Pose” myself…
Here’s a shoutout to all my amateur psychoanalyst readers, and you know you all are, deep in your hearts, amateur psychoanalysts, otherwise you wouldn’t be trolling the depths of the Internet to nibble on the ramblings of the Big Ugly Man Doll. So here’s the setup: First, I’m actually a pretty liberal guy, about as liberal as you can get while still doing business as the BUMD. Second, Number One Son (mentioned in dispatches) has a Game Cube, and with or without his sisters he plays SIMS on a regular basis.
Here’s the question I put to you, my amateur psychoanalyst friend: Should I be worried that all his SIMS characters are skinny Goth chicks with tattoos? Why does he name most of them Sadie? (Those who aren’t Sadie are named Padmé, after his – very understandable – crush on Padmé Naberrie Amidala, of Star Wars fame. This I get.)
Thoughts? All responses become property of the BUMD; however, all names will be changed to protect the guilty, on account of that’s the kind of guy I am.
My feet need gauze.
I’ve aching jaws.
I cannot pee
unless I pause.
My fortune grows.
My conscience gnaws.
My fortune grows.
My conscience gnaws.
I cannot pee
unless I pause.
My feet need gauze.
I’ve aching jaws.
And soon
my blog is
breaking laws.
Number One Son is attending Catholic Indoctrination Classes, because, ya know, everyone should have to, otherwise he’ll grow up to have nothing to talk about with his therapist. Anyway, he came home several months ago complaining that, “all they talk about is God, God, God, God, God.” Today I found that, clearly, the topics have diversified, and that he’s internalizing at least some of the message.
“Daddy,” says he, “I know that I wasn’t born with Original Sin.”
Whoa. “You weren’t? Well, OK!” says I, trying to remember the circumstances of his conception and birth. “Um, I’m glad you think so!”
“But my older sister was.”