Big Ugly Man Doll

We’re down the shore in New Jersey, but I wanted to share this little gem – some loon has decided that he can clean his house with Vodka.  I was alerted to this the other day when SOBUMD forwarded this link:  http://www.stylelist.com/chris-barnes/5-new-uses-for-vodka_b_1432060.html 
 
My first thought was, you have got to be kidding.  This is how I should spend my hard-earned hooch?  Smirnoff Scrubbing?  Absolut Shine?  Let me tell you, if you’re busy buffing the bathroom with Belvedere, you have too much money.  You can gargle with Scotch, too.  Loon.

Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of brands of Vodka that I’d use for drain cleaner before I’d drink them, but I pretty much haven’t seen them since college.  These days, the idea of cleaning the house with vodka sounds more like a “Martini and a Duster” party than anything else.  Although I got SOBUMD a bottle of cucumber vodka the other day, in case she’d like that with her cucumber martini – if that turns out to have been a bad idea, maybe we’ll wash the boat with it. 

The link is actually worth checking out for the comments, though.

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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):    It’s hot.  It’s damn hot.  It’s so damn hot that by Tuesday, you’re going to be able to feel the fleas in your underarm hair doing the backstroke in your sweat, that’s how damn hot it is.  By Wednesday, you’re going to seriously consider shaving all the hair off your body.  By Thursday, you’re going to look like that picture you took of yourself naked when you were 9, except taller and with more, um, places.  (You should *really* delete that.)   Your high-risk disease this week:   Influenza.  How droll.

Taurus (The Bull):   I know you want to find a new project, but that’s not how life works.  Or is it?  Wednesday, you might have a shot at a new gig.  Be sure not to tell anyone for weeks and leave both projects in the lurch when you decide to quit the rat race and become a neo-natal baby whispering monk.

Gemini (The Twins):  You will take a grand trip this week!  Your visiting schedule will be wonderful and sweet in direct proportion to your ability to shut up about your own feelings when faced with lunatics.  Smile.  Nod.  Move on with your life.  Your high-risk disease this week:   Avian Hummingbird Pox.

Cancer (The Crab):   You have no idea how badly you’ve screwed up, have you?  You’re going to melt one of these days, and you won’t even know why.  Go out for a beer with the boys on Tuesday, they’ve got something to show you.  Hoo boy.

Leo (The Lion):   This week will be good for placing bets on the outcome of Olympic sports that you’ve recorded on your new PVR.  As long as you know the outcome in advance, now’s the time to bet the house when it comes to sexual favors.  On the other hand, your high-risk disease this week is Dysentery, so this might not be the *best* week for that…

Virgo (The Virgin):  You’re never going to read this anyway, and if you did, you probably wouldn’t get it.  I don’t know why I bother some days, you know that?  What’s the matter with you?  Were you dropped on your head as a small child?  Seriously dude, this week you need to log in, turn on, and drop out.  You know, again.

Libra (The Scale):    You are about to embark on one of the most boring weeks in recent memory.  Nothing will stand out.  Once you get to Wednesday, you’ll think it’s Friday or Monday because the days will all run together that badly.  This week is so boring, your high-risk disease will be Bronchitis – which you’ve actually had recently.  Try to look forward to next week’s horoscope – it’s the only thing that will get you through the doldrums of this interminable week.

Scorpio (The Scorpion):   Did you finish your work this week?  No.  Will you finish it next week?  No.  Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things?  The answer to that question is left as an exercise for the student.

Sagittarius (The Archer):   Other than your high risk of contracting Vibrio Parahaemolyticus this week, things look good.  Well, better.  OK, not really, but there’s cupcakes.  OK, you have to make the damn cupcakes yourself, but hey, cupcakes, amiright?

Capricorn (The Sea-Goat):   Aries features heavily in your week, largely since they’re going to ask you to help them shave their entire body, and you’ll probably reciprocate.  I know it’s tempting, since you’re both standing there wearing nothing but a razor and a smile, but you really, really don’t want to have sex with them this week.  Give it time.  Maybe next week.  Wait for the itching to stop, if you get my drift. 

Aquarius (The Water Bearer):   Regardless of how badly your team is doing – and yes, they suck – you will still watch when you can this week.  They’re not going to get any better this week either.  Watch the Olympics; at least someone you can pronouce will win something.  Your high-risk disease this week:   Bud Rot.

Pisces (The Fish):    You will go on a long journey.  You will bring your Billy Idol CD.   It won’t help.

 

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It’s been a fantastic weekend here at the BUMD house with the Olympics on.   In honor of watching the Opening Ceremonies in London on Friday, we ate British things, except for the French cheese and the Spanish wine and the Italian charcuterie and the Swiss crackers and the bread, which was local.  I think the Scotch was the closest we got.  But other than that, it was all very British; the house had a distinct East London feel to it.  Watching the Queen of England jump out of a helicopter as the latest Bond girl was awe-inspiring, quite. 

Since then, we’ve medaled in several areas!  So far, we’ve taken Gold in “How The Hell Is THAT An Olympic Sport?” and “Sitting On Our Butts Channel-Surfing The Games.”  We only got Silver in “No Way, That Was Totally Out,” and came away with Bronze in “He Can’t Lose, He’s Too Cute.”  

On the other hand, we completely failed to reach the podium in “Oh God, Do They Really Need To Dust Off Bob Costas Every Time?”

Best of luck in all of your Olympic goals, and for those of you scoring at home, as always, please use protection.

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Happy Friday.   Have you ever noticed that your horoscopes become even more bleak and depressing when I have a cold?  Well, no, how could you.  But you can assume that if your upcoming week looks really nasty, that I’m in a pretty bad mood.  Also, you can assume since I’m mentioning this right now that you’re in for a rough one – poor, nasty, brutish, and short don’t cover the half of it.  But don’t let that get you down!  Read on!

Aries (The Ram):    The guilt you feel over cooking those lobsters this weekend will be mitigated only by your certain knowledge that they were all suicidal to start with.  The female lobster had watched every one of her 377 children get caught in traps and hauled to the surface, while the two males were tired of living in a world where no one understood their love.  They all welcomed the killing steam, the Old Bay seasoning, the oblivion, the butter. 

Taurus (The Bull):   Your office will be moved to a new building across the street, which will inexplicably add 45 minutes to your commute.  Your high-risk disease this week:   Encephalitis. 

Gemini (The Twins):     All your plans will come to pass exactly as scheduled this week.  Don’t you wish you’d planned for better things? 

Cancer (The Crab):   The dream you keep having about the yellow Post-it notes that seem to be taking over your desk will seem to come true this week.  By Thursday you will twitch involuntarily every time you see one.  Your high-risk disease this week:   Leptospirosis.

Leo (The Lion):    You will watch every single televised Olympic event this week, eschewing sleep and food, dining only on the bitterness of knowing that for each event, every one of them, that could have been you.

Virgo (The Virgin):  Even sex will leave you feeling empty this week.  Well, more empty than usual.  Laughter will ring hollow, you will question friendships, you will brood on a diet of fast food and anger.  Your high-risk disease this week:   Brucella Melitensis.

Libra (The Scale):    That headache you’ve had for the last three and a half years will finally clear up.  The bad news:  she wants half.

Scorpio (The Scorpion):   There won’t be enough coffee in the world for you to accomplish your goals this week, and even if there were, it would still taste like schoolwork with milk and sugar.  Give it up and just surf the Internet, maybe you’ll find something inspiring.   Your high-risk disease this week:   Malta Fever.

Sagittarius (The Archer):   You run a very serious risk of your cats eating your shoes this week.  Since the only thing that cost more than the ensuing vet bills were the shoes themselves, you might want to check on Fifi’s food bowl twice a day. 

Capricorn (The Sea-Goat):   You will be given a list of hardware and software.  All but one of the updates you make to these two lists will be wrong, and the only right one will be too expensive.  Your high-risk disease this week:   Vesicular Stomatitis.

Aquarius (The Water Bearer):      All your favorite teams will lose this week, and the waiter who used to comp your booze will have been fired when you get to your local bar on Monday.  Remember to bring cash for a change. 

Pisces (The Fish):    The guy who would have offered you a book deal on your blog will read your most recent post on Wednesday and move on with his life.  Your high-risk disease this week:   Panama Banana Disease.   At least it goes with your hat.

 

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As so often happens when real life gets in the way of my otherwise irrepressible blogging impulse, I’m a little behind.  I blame the weather, the Higgs Boson, and Mitt Romney’s hairpiece, in that order. 

We’ll start way back on Father’s Day weekend, which was fantastic.  What made it such an epic adventure?  Four things. 

First, we got to see the neighbor’s new place.  They’re going to remain neighbors, but they’re building a new place on some land out West, between us and the House in the Woods, about which I’ve written before.  On the land they bought stands – well, leans – a very old place that will fall down shortly if Mike doesn’t help it fall down sooner. 

There are a few treasures to rescue before that happens, though – such as the license plates on the floor, from 1940, the glass ornaments still hanging over the mantle, and some road signs that clearly predate unleaded gasoline. 

 

The earliest record of this property is something in the 1820s; Mike and Lynn are the second owners, if that tells you something about the place. 

From there, we moved on to the House in the Woods, where the second epic thing happened.  Among many other very cool things I received for Father’s Day, SOBUMD and the kids bought me a machete.  Everyone should have one!  It’s long, sharp, and very flexible.

The third epic thing was just being there with a machete out at the House in the Woods.  Since the Very Clever Grandparents were in Switzerland, we brought our neighbors with us, and got to show them the wonders of the place.  One of those wonders turned out to be a turtle trekking across the lawn in the rain, holding his head up high, presumably so he wouldn’t drown.  He was making good time – took him about half an hour. 

We also saw one of the West Virginia Bear Spiders, so named because they mostly eat bears. He was in the screen room, reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee.  Oddly, he had the room to himself.   Mike and the Human Tape Recorder and I climbed the local mountain, to see what we could see – which turned out to be the other side of the mountain, just like the song says.  I thought it would be more exciting, tell you the truth. 

While we were doing that, the Reigning Queen of Pink became reacquainted with her more aquatic subjects, and a good time was had by all.

And fourth, FOBUMD’s sole request while we were out there was that we mow the lawn.  This lead, inexorably as the day leads to the night, to my being perched on the tractor.   Now I know for many of my loyal readers, riding a tractor mower power thingy packs all of the emotional charge of taking out the garbage or mucking out the shed.  I, on the other hand, have never ridden one of these things in my life.  It turns out that you really have to slow down quite a bit to take the beer from your child’s hand when she brings it to you.  Aside from that, it makes very good time – there are gears and turbo boosts and all sorts of things I never knew about.  When it moves into high gear, I really came close to spilling my drink!  Such drama!  Such excitement!  And of course every time I came near the house, I waved my hat around like Slim Pickens riding the nuke all the way down at the end of Dr. Strangelove.  So, nice tractor.  Who knew?

The following weekend was reported in near-real time, with SOBUMD going under the knife.   I’m glad to say the surgery was an unmitigated success and that in the month since, she’s recovering well and feeling better than she has in a long time.  She’s tap dancing and taken up parkour, which really amazes her doctors since she couldn’t do either of those things before the operation. 

The next weekend, still unreported, was to follow.  

Derecho.  It even sounds wretched, dirty, and unpleasant.   It was all of those things, plus fast.

You may have heard that there were epic storms here on the East Coast a few weeks ago – this is true. Nearly half a million homes in NoVa were without power, including here at the Big Ugly Man Doll. Winds up to 80 mph, trees down everywhere, mircobursts, 2 fatalities within a few miles of us, a bunch more between here and Ohio. 

Our neighbors had one of the old giant oaks cut their house in half; they were in the basement and unharmed, but the house and car are pretty much gone.

Our power was out for 55 hours or so.  The storm hit Friday with the biggest lightning display I’ve seen in years, augmented beautifully by the blue-green glow of the transformers blowing.  Once we got through Saturday morning and were able to get some reports of the extent of the outage (more than a million people), we realized the power wasn’t coming back in the next few hours, and packed everything critical in the fridge and freezer into coolers.  We then drove to the house of the Very Clever Grandparents, who live in in downtown Washington DC, but were of course still in Switzerland.  Part of what makes them Very Clever involves living in a house on the same power grid as the White House.  The power doesn’t go out down there – at least, it hasn’t in the last 40 years.  One of the neighbors told me the lights did blink, once, in 1972.  Another thing that makes them very clever is that they nearly emptied their fridge and freezer before they left, which happened to leave an enormous amount of space for our stuff. 

Getting back in the car from moving the food over, we noticed a bolt in the right front tire.  On to the local Sears!  At Sears, at the mall, they had cell service to hit the Internet – for the first time in hours.  (SOBUMD was frantic without her security iPhone working.)  The mall being the only place with air conditioning for miles around, it was a huge mess.  We ate angry cookies and generally sulked at everyone until the tire was fixed, leaving promptly for the cool air conditioned embrace of my folks’ house in DC – which the kids call the House in the Hood. 

That night, Number One Son had only one question for me to relay to the VCG in Switzerland: what’s the password to the WiFi?  He was hoping to connect my iPad to the Internet – it’s amazing how quickly the Web has become such a part of everyday life that the lack thereof is seen as a “critical” must-fix issue.

Speaking of which, it’ll be interesting to see what shakes out of that storm.  The 911 service in most of NoVa went dead – people were asked to bring emergencies (or reports of same) to police/fire stations. Cell coverage was spotty at best, AT&T lost a few towers – and the POTS (plain old telephone system) went down as well. In the absence of Internet, cell, and dial tone, 911 not working seems redundant if no one can call anyway. 

We were thinking the power company would have the power back on Sunday.  It turned out that Sunday was the day they were hoping to have estimates on when they’d have the power back on.  We went home to feed the cats (who were remarkably sanguine about the lack of power) and scrub the fridge – after all, how often do you have the luxury of leaving the doors open for an hour and taking all the food out?  When life gives you lemons, put an “organic” sticker on them and sell ’em at a premium.  Back to DC for another evening of cool air. 

Power was restored Monday morning; I came home, turned the AC back on, fed the cats, then drove to my job.  The Army Post I work on looked like it had been shelled; probably 50 trees or more were down, roofs and fences blown off, roads blocked, and no power. 

I executed a tactical retreat to my corporate office for a bit, then drove back to DC and collected SOBUMD, the Three Lunatic Children, our clothes, and the first round of food – planning to go back that afternoon for the perishables. We got back to the mostly air conditioned house (it was almost down to 80), and put things away. We turned on computers, unpacked, relaxed for a few minutes.

And the power went out.

It was still out 4 hours later when we were discussing dinner.  (“I ain’t cooking.”  “Me either.”  “Right.”)  We tried calling a local, well-established restaurant and got an answering machine.  I tried again.  Same machine.  Right, they’re down.  With *still* no Internet data service from the cell towers, the Human Tape Recorder was able to text a request to a friend (whose name we will refer to here as “Laura” to protect the innocent), and thus acquire the phone number for Mike’s American Grill.  We retired there with the neighbors, eating and drinking just as though there would be power when we returned. 

And there was. 

It has stayed on since then, amid plans for generators and tree-repelling roof shingles, through the 4th of July, and through this region’s longest stretch of 100+ degree days in ages.  Trust me that those three weekends, back to back to back, while fun – in a “Choose Your Own Adventure” kind of way – were exhausting.  Father’s Day weekend I’d replay anytime.  The surgery and the derecho, well, sometimes those Choose Your Own Adventure books didn’t have such happy endings, you know?  This one did, though – as part of the Great Thawing of the Food during the power outage, the sole remaining turkey in our freezer was defrosted, brined, and smoked when the Very Clever Grandparents returned from Switzerland – we had a quick Thanksgiving dinner smack dab in the middle of July!   

The remaining weeks and weekends since all that have been busy, crazy, and hotter than Joan of Arc.  But we’re caught up, as much as one can ever really catch up since we’ve captured the Higgs Boson, and we now return to our regularly scheduled programming. 

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