Big Ugly Man Doll

Happy Friday!  Here is, once again, 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):   Remember those piano lessons your mother made you take as a kid?  Remember how mad you used to get that you weren’t outside playing in the yard instead?  None of that will be important when the piano falls off the back of that truck onto your car this week, but at least you’ll know it’s a B flat as it hits.  Your high-risk disease this week:  Bacterial Ring Rot.

Taurus (The Bull):   You will complain about every little thing this week – so what if he wants to use the rolling bio-hazard container for a desk?  It’s from Rubbermaid, right?  How dirty could it be?

Gemini (The Twins):     This is a week for getting better.  You won’t enjoy it much, mind you, but just like eating vegetables, it’s for your own good.  Yes, even the chest tube is for your own good.  Your high-risk disease this week:  Oilseed Rape Clubroot.

Cancer (The Crab):   This is a good week to get that cough checked out.  You don’t sound too good, you know that?

Leo (The Lion):   Another Saturday night, another five Benzoin applicators and electrode packs.  But you can stop anytime, right?  Your high-risk disease this week:  Blast Disease.

Virgo (The Virgin):  Most people call it “the day we find another stash and get stupid until some skinny Goth chick enlightens us by showing us her world in a dark alley” – you just call it Tuesday. 

Libra (The Scale):   Move your feet, move your feet, move your feet.  OK, now cough.  Deep breath – good.  You;ll get used to the new hair color by next Thursday.  Your high-risk disease this week:  Paramyxoviruses.

Scorpio (The Scorpion):   This is a great week for being helpful – you will find you derive great joy by helping around the house, making sure other people’s lives are easier, and generally being more cheerful than usual.  And by “derive great joy” I mean someone is likely to give you $10 bucks.

Sagittarius (The Archer):   They said they sanitized the room, but you can still smell that, can’t you?  Tell them to get back in there and clean it again – this is a service industry, damnit.  Your high-risk disease this week:  Usutu Virus.

Capricorn (The Sea-Goat):   Your night nurse won’t look a thing like your day nurse.  Stop thinking about that – that only happens in cheesy porn flicks.  No, really – you’re not going to get a sponge bath with a happy ending here.

Aquarius (The Water Bearer):  On Tuesday, you will make pasta.  When you stare at it on your plate, it will seem like it’s moving, and creep you out enough that you won’t eat it.  You’ll try again with the leftovers Wednesday, but it won’t help – creepy pasta can’t be fixed by any human agency.  Your high-risk disease this week:  Echinococcosis.

Pisces (The Fish):  It’s a good week for staying on top of things, but you probably won’t, although you’ll want to.  Things are going to change.  Oh, and you’ll owe that Scorpio $10 bucks by next Friday.

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It’s June again, and that means birthdays at the BUMD house – there are more than 5 of them in June, possibly more by a factor of ten, but I can’t remember them all.  The one I do remember is that of Number One Son, who turns 12 today – I think he’s as surprised as the rest of us.  High functioning autism means never having to worry about what other people think – Number One Son happens to other people, not the other way around, and so I’m looking forward to this evening’s episode of Screw the Song.   On with the cake!

So Happy Birthday, Big Man – you made it another year!

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Happy Friday, halfway through June and halfway through the year!  Here is, once again, 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):  You’ve been getting high on life, but you’re building up a tolerance, aren’t you?  Just doesn’t seem to be enough anymore, huh?  This week, try a new tack.  A thumbtack.  One good shot of pain in your thumb ought to make you happy you don’t do that every day.

Taurus (The Bull):   All your decisions this week will be wrong.  Your best bet is just to stay inside and call in sick every other day this week, contemplating your abject longing for acclaim and why your mother never called you by your real name. Your high-risk disease this week:  Theileria.

Gemini (The Twins):   You’ll find this is a great week for getting plugged with tubes and wires, sawed open, stitched up, and sent off for field training as the next Bionic Woman.  You’re Jamie Freakin’ Sommers, baby!

Cancer (The Crab):   That purchase order you submitted will be audited next week.  Be prepared to justify your department’s “need” for 60,000 feet of tram cable and 27 tubs of Crisco.  Your high-risk disease this week:  Nodding Disease.

Leo (The Lion):   The bad news: You’re going to get your undies in a bunch this week.  The good news:   You’re going to get your undies in a bunch of sauce, because hey, they’re edible!  You can serve them for dinner on Wednesday; if anyone asks, tell them it’s chicken.   

Virgo (The Virgin):   Your boating excursion this week will end with what can only be called Close Encounters of the Bird Kind:  you will be an unwilling participant in a dramatic reenactment of Leda and the Swan.  The bad news?  You’re not the swan.  Your high-risk disease this week:  Bogia Syndrome.

Libra (The Scale):   Remember all that money you bet on I’ll Have Another to win the Belmont?  Remember how the bookie skipped town when the horse didn’t even run?  Next week will be just like that. 

Scorpio (The Scorpion):   Hey, it’s a good week to sleep in.  You’re not going to, because you need to stay active, but it would have been a good week for it anyway. Your high-risk disease this week:  Sponge Orange Band.

Sagittarius (The Archer):   Your week centers on shoes, cupcakes, and thigh-high Hello Kitty boots.  You will might not be on time where you’re going, but you’re going to look DAMN good when you get there. 

Capricorn (The Sea-Goat):   Tuesday you will become reacquainted with San Pellegrino water, unfortunately by falling into some of it.  Don’t worry, it’s good for your hair. Your high-risk disease this week:  Sclerotinia Subarctica.

Aquarius (The Water Bearer):  You will have that dream again, where you’re on a 3-hour teleconference with people who can’t stop asking questions that they should  already know the answers to and won’t take them offline.  Oh, wait, that’s not a dream, that’s your Thursday.

Pisces (The Fish):   You will find yourself trapped in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike.  You are likely to be eaten – enjoy it, since you’ll be eaten first.  It’s a high honor. Your high-risk disease this week:  Huanglongbing.

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Recently my company launched a new initiative for “Wellness” – promoting employee welfare through staying in shape, maintaining a good work-life balance, being responsible citizens, and being “prepared” – although that latter one mostly read like making sure you’re prepared to get old and die.

Being the responsible citizen that I am, I took the 6-question stress test offered on their new site, which will help you gauge your current level of stress. (I work in the Washington DC area, commonly cited as one of the most stressed out places in the known universe.) I noted with a certain incredulity that their first question asked me to rate my current level of stress, using 1 as low and 5 as high. This would seem to obviate the need for the other 5 questions.

After stressing about this for a minute, in the interest of helping all my loyal readers gauge their current levels of stress, I thought I’d create my own Stress Test, using a method that is highly scientific on account of it has more than 6 questions. Answer the following 20 questions as honestly as you can, sobriety notwithstanding, and I will present you with a scientifically derived “Stress Index Number” at the end of the test. Based on your SIN, I will present a variety of options to choose from to help reduce your stress levels, if needed.
[cf]js_stress[/cf]

Interpreting your Stress Index Number:

If your SIN is less than 11: You’re fucking lying.

If your SIN is between 12 and 20: You’re pretty relaxed for someone on the run from the law. They’re going to catch you eventually, but you’re a honeybadger, aren’t you? You don’t care. You don’t give a shit. It’s a grand adventure. You go, honeybadger. You go.

If your SIN is between 21 and 40: You’re doing ok. You’re not going to pop anytime soon, but you’re on a slippery slope of stress and sudden angry urges. Consider adding more alcohol and sex to your diet.

If your SIN is between 41 and 60: Just what you need, one more thing to worry about. You now have a number – a concrete, solid, put-your-hands-on-it digit – for your stress, to add to all the things you’re already stressing about. Try not to let it get to you. Just try. What’s going to help? Naked time!

If your SIN is between 61 and 80: You, my friend, are a beautiful mess. You’re past the saving embrace of booze – you’re going to need medical intervention. Try checking yourself into a sex therapy clinic and offering to be the release valve for the “guests” – you seriously need to get laid.

If your SIN is greater than 81: Put the gun down. Step away from the gun. OK, deep breath now. The nice people with the thorazine are on their way. It’s all going to be – I said step away from the gun. No. No! Put it down again. Come on, it’ll be fine. We have cookies.

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Life with a High Functioning Autistic son has its interesting moments and lessons.  Most days, we’re so used to his quirks that we no longer give them much thought; sort of a “that’s odd, but that’s Number One Son for you” type of thing.   Every once in a while, though, the reminders come through loud and clear.

“Dad, I left something up on your computer for you to look at.  Just follow the instructions I left you.”

Now, if hearing that from an 11-yr-old boy won’t strike some measure of terror in your heart, I don’t know what will.  I ascended the stairs with no small amount of trepidation, only to find this:

Number One Son Leaves Me Instructions

It took me a second or two to process it.  He’d opened a new tab, gone to Google, and searched for the following string:  “<- – dad read the entire thing” – knowing that this would lead to the second tab’s title bar having  instructions pointing to the first one, which is what he wanted me to read. 

In a hundred years, it would never have occurred to me to do that.

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