Big Ugly Man Doll

From everything I’ve ever heard, Neil Armstrong was one of the most gentle, gracious, down-to-earth heroes you could ever meet – a gentleman and a gentle man.  For someone who lived through the kind of fame and ticker-tape parades that could turn a lesser man’s head, his was always a quiet, reasonable voice.   His most famous quote, taking his first steps on the moon, overshadow the epitome of the man who also said, talking to mission control from the surface of the moon, “I suppose they are going to make a big deal of all this.”

And it was a big deal.  Historians 300 and 400 and 500 years from now, assuming we don’t do anything wholly stupid in the next hundred years, may look back at this era – our era – and draw a line demarcing the first tentative but seminal steps of the Modern Age on that date, 20 July 1969.  I was born before that date.  My parents propped me up to listen to the radio so that, at all of a few months old, I too would hear Neil Armstrong’s famous words as he took that all important first step, for all of us.

Rest in Peace, Mr. Armstrong, among the stars once more.

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Happy Friday – another chance to catch up with your own personal astrological future. Your upcoming week will be poor, nasty, brutish, and short – but don’t let it get you down! Read on!

Aries (The Ram):    Everything you print this week will have that stupid yellow line down the side, reminding you to go get a new toner cartridge. 

Taurus (The Bull):   I’m just not feeling it this week, and neither are you.  Nor will you.  You know what?  The hell with it.  That goes double for Tuesday.  Your high-risk disease this week:  Pontiac Fever.

Gemini (The Twins):     You will find yourself this week back down the shore, in a large, well-apportioned house just 100 yards from the crashing surf.  The weather will be great, the smell of the salt sea will be an aphrodisiac, and the sex will be amazing.  Then you’ll wake up.  Sorry about that. 

Cancer (The Crab):   You will spend all day Wednesday wondering what your life would have been like if you’d married that “cute but kinda crazy” one you dated in college.   You will spend all day Thursday stalking them on Facebook.  Your high-risk disease this week:  Legionnaires’ Disease.

Leo (The Lion):    This week will cause you shock and dismay as you try to wrap your head around the new Microsoft logo.  I know it’s hard.  You can get past this!

Virgo (The Virgin):  The project you’re on will be de-funded next week, on grounds that the funding was obligated for the wrong government fiscal year.  The fact that this is not in fact true will not avail you.  Time to polish your resume – leave this project off of it, though.  It was a dud.  Your high-risk disease this week:  Eastern Equine Encephalitis.

Libra (The Scale):   You know that little black notebook app that you downloaded onto your phone and entered all that data about all those people, and what you *really* think about them?   You know that cab you’re going to take on Monday?  Yeah.  You might want to look into moving, because you’re not going to get a job in this town again. 

Scorpio (The Scorpion):   This is a great week for finishing all the stuff you told your parents you had finished already.  Your high-risk disease this week:  Lethal Coconut Palm Yellowing.

Sagittarius (The Archer):   This coming week promises to be accident free!  You catch a buy this week; things will start to look up.  Don’t tell the rest of the world – there isn’t enough happy to go around – but you’ll find some.  And you don’t have to share it with anyone! 

Capricorn (The Sea-Goat):   This will be a week of lunches.  Monday, lunch with your partner in crime.  Tuesday, lunch with your lawyer.  Thursday, lunch with your parole officer.  Your high-risk disease this week:  Capnocytophaga.

Aquarius (The Water Bearer):   Everything you touch will look odd once you’re done with it this week.  Words will look mis-spelled, water will taste funny.  Don’t worry about it, it’s all part of getting older.  Except for the mis-matched clothes, that is – that really does look goofy.  

Pisces (The Fish):   This is your week to suffer.  Luckily for you, you will suffer with a musical instrument and a bottle of beer.  Hope for a decent sandwich.  Your high-risk disease this week:  Piscine Reovirus.

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It never fails to amaze me that these children get older when I clearly don’t. I haven’t figured out how that works. Regardless, the Reigning Queen of Pink, Grand Duchess of Fluff, Lord High Protector of Barbies, and Baroness of the Hummingbirds has turned 10 years old today. Her majesty was feted in royal style at Busch Gardens, where she was delighted to find that she is finally tall enough to ride almost everything she wants – which is still pretty much everything. (Discerning readers may remember that she was brought to 6 Flags for the royal birthday celebration last year, as part of being in Chicago.) As usual, if it requires legal waivers, the Reigning Queen of Pink wants to get on board, and this year she did – not as many as the Human Tape Recorder, but quite enough to be going on with.

We declined to partake of the water rides in the park – at least, that was the plan. The Gondola, which takes you over the park and slowly and silently slips you from one side to the next, is not usually a water feature – but when you’re in line for said Gondola as the heavens open and the skies pour down upon you, well, I assure you it is as wet a ride as any you will get in an amusement park.

We returned forthwith and finally home for some end of the birthday presents, having already made it a holiday – and so, to her and everyone else: Happy Reigning Queen of Pink Day!

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Happy Friday – another chance to catch up with your own personal astrological future. Your upcoming week will be poor, nasty, brutish, and short – but don’t let it get you down! Read on!

Aries (The Ram):    This is a good week for nosebleeds.  Keep the tissues near and stay away from the shark-infested waters – they’re not averse to a few bogies if it means a decent meal.  Your high-risk disease this week:   African Swine Fever.

Taurus (The Bull):   You’re a bull in a bear market, and a china shop this week.  You’d better hope that was insured, because it costs more than your car.  Better yet, don’t wait to find out – run!

Gemini (The Twins):    It’s a good week for finishing up projects before the house empties out.  You won’t finish, but you’ll feel better for having made the attempt.  Your high-risk disease this week:   Potomac Horse Fever.

Cancer (The Crab):   This week will be like a gladiolus – the weekend will show the promise of the top bulb, waiting to blossom; Monday and Tuesday will burst forth in amazing color and glory, and the week will end with the last, lowest flowers already wilting and moldering into decay and decrepitude.  Thursday will particularly suck, just so you know.

Leo (The Lion):    Your piano waits for you – still.  It’s lurking, waiting for its time.  You could have been the next Liberace, and this week that piano will make its one last try for the music of your soul.  Your high-risk disease this week:   Liberibacter.

Virgo (The Virgin):  By Tuesday you’ll realize that the mosquito bite you got over the weekend was probably a spider bite.  By Wednesday, you’ll realize that you should have gone to the ER on Tuesday.  By Thursday, you will truly understand the deeper meaning of the words “irrigate the wound.” 

Libra (The Scale):    You’ve never been pecked by a wild turkey before?  Well, this week proves that there’s a first time for everything.  Bring your gun, that’s what I say.  Your high-risk disease this week:   Besnoitiosis.

Scorpio (The Scorpion):   Your summer has built up in intensity and excitement.  All that’s over now; you’ll spend the week getting back to the grind, nose to the gristmill, shoulder to the wheel.  Hey, it builds character.  Tuesday in particular will be very character building.

Sagittarius (The Archer):   This week, the only way to get by will be to take a picture of every kitten you see, then photoshop them all into little kitten latex outfits.  Wednesday, break from this and try to envision yourself as a being of pure energy.  You can’t, but mainlining a shitload of sugar will get you close.  Your high-risk disease this week:   Cassava Brown Streak.

Capricorn (The Sea-Goat):   This will be a good week for finding new and inventive ways to blow out candles.  I didn’t say painless, I said inventive.  Good luck with that.

Aquarius (The Water Bearer):    This week, while re-reading the Harry Potter books for the 13th time, you will realize that you’ve been pronouncing those names wrong for years.  Try to remember that only you called them that – no one else needs to know!  Your high-risk disease this week:   Parvovirus.

Pisces (The Fish):    The skin flaking off your shoulders does not mean you have an appealing personality, it means you’re an idiot with a sunburn.  This week, try sunscreen for a change. 

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Twenty years ago today, when I was young and she was younger, my lovely bride became SOBUMD, although in all fairness neither of us knew that at the time.  (For starters, I was a much smaller man doll.) 

Over the years, many people have asked me how we met.  Many other people have asked me “what’s with the hat, dude?”  I will now reveal the truth.

We met in a January, cold and dark, in Morgantown, West Virginia, working at the school paper, the Daily Athenaeum.  (You are not required to pronounce it correctly for the purposes of this post.) It will surprise most of you not at all to learn that I was a copy editor, with a desk on the 3rd floor.  (It was an old, literally ramshackle building that was once someone’s house.)  SOBUMD worked in the basement, in production and paste-up (we’re that old!), getting the printed words that I (and my peers) had edited out the door to our printer for the next day’s headlines.  At the time, the paper had (and I believe still does have) one of the largest circulations in the state – it’s been printed continuously since 1887. 

But where was I?  Oh yes, I was editing the paper and reading the live AP feed, which was the closest you had to Google News those days, on a dark January afternoon.  This stunning brunette came walking into my office area, looked at my hat, and put it on her head.  “Nice hat,” she said. 

When We Was Young

And she walked out. 

I walked into the next office and found the City Editor.  “Hey man, did you just see a good looking girl walk by in my hat?”   He said that he had.  “Who was that?” 

“I don’t know, honestly.  I think she works in production.”

It took me three days to find her.  I had to marry her – it was the only way to get my hat back. 

And to this day, it looks better on her than me.  Happy Anniversary to my SOBUMD, without whom none of this would be possible!   We’re still young, and the next 20 years will be even better.

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