Big Ugly Man Doll

It’s Friday, and that means answer time! For those of you who have commented with questions from previous ManFAQs, thank you. I’m adding yours to the list of questions women have asked about men over the years, and I will answer them all in turn – to continue to demystify the more malodorous gender for those of the gentler.  Actual questions, posed by real women, and answered by a REAL man. What could go wrong?

Question:  Why is the question, “Are you a leg or a breast man?” a natural greeting amongst some of the lesser menfolk?

Answer:  No no, it’s a fried chicken thing.  Honest.  (And you know we love fried chicken!) 

No?  What?  You’re giving me that look.  OK, no, you got me.  You’re right, we’re pigs.  We look at your body and scan for the highlights.  The guys who ask each other this question are talking in code, looking to find others of their own kind, the lowest common denominator on the Pig sweepstakes.  (“I can objectify those women in seven words!”) 

Because if the question gets an answer, like to like, then there’s a chance that the respondent might be able to provide his interlocutor with pictures of the preferred selection of said anatomy. 

And believe me, before the advent of online porn, those lesser menfolk – and you’ve nearly answered your own question with that phrase – didn’t get to see much of them there wimmin’s parts and protocols, if you know what I’m sayin’, and not hardly ever at all, if you mean strictly legal-like.  There’s a chance that as porn becomes ever more prevalent, this question might even die out.  We can hope!

Me, I’m a just a Big Ugly fried chicken fan.  
 

Now you know. Please, feel free to comment! Also, forward any questions you’d like answered to BUMD – at – biguglymandoll.com!

Tags: Children // 2 Comments »

OK, as promised, a short list of things from the Big Ugly Man Doll that I think you’d do well to tell your kids, teen-aged or not.  In no particular order. 

1. Good job.  Not just for the big things, like getting an A or a goal or a win, but for the small things.  They’re smarter than you think, and they damn well know when they did one of the big things well – not that you shouldn’t make much of it, but remember to make as much of the little everyday things.  Parenting is the ultimate B.F. Skinner experiment.  Every word you say and every action you take will help to modify your kids’ behavior, however slightly.  When you call out something that they did well, that they did correctly, that they did the way you want them to, mention it.  It’s not just positive reinforcement for the action, it reminds them that someone’s watching.
   .
2. I love you.  Say it early, often, and without embellishment.  They’ll figure out just what you mean by it, and what it means, by your actions.  Try to make sure your actions reflect what you want “I love you” to mean.
   . 
3. It’s OK to be the best.  Our society rewards conformity, and once they leave your house, they will learn quickly that “sit down and shut up” is often a more valuable lesson than “tell me what you know.”  It’s frightening to stand out in the crowd.  Let them know that if they decide to go for it – school play, team, league, what have you, if they decide that maybe they will try their hand at something competitive, something that would set them apart from their crowd – let them know that you’ve got their back.  Often they just need to know that it’s OK to try, and even that it’s OK to try hard.  Give them permission to succeed. 
   . 
4. You screwed up on that one.  They know it anyway.  If they’ve really screwed the pooch, don’t mince words – you risk confusing the message.  Give them a chance to learn from the mistake; if this is a serial screw up, ask them about the wider issue causing them to fail on the task at hand.  This is part of your job as a parent, and like any job the conversation will be more constructive if you stay professional. 
   .
5. I apologize.  When you need to say it, say it to them directly.  Being sorry, and even saying so, is passive and keeps the focus on you (you’re sorry).  An apology is a noun, given when appropriate.  I’ll give you a short informative example. 
   .
   I came home a few years ago to find something broken; don’t remember what, doesn’t matter.  It had been up high enough that only the Human Tape Recorder could have reasonably reached it; it wasn’t the kind of thing the cats would get into, and the Reigning Queen of Pink was a baby. 
   
   I confronted the HTR with the broken thing, and asked her what happened.  “I don’t know.”  I reminded her that her siblings were unlikely to have interested themselves in it and even less likely to have been able to reach it, and asked her again what happened.  “I don’t know, maybe my brother broke it, I don’t know.”  She was clearly squirming, and I could tell I might be close to uncovering the mystery if I only applied a little more pressure.
   
   “I’m going to go downstairs and ask your brother about this. Now, we both know that with his autism, he doesn’t know how to lie, and he will tell me exactly what happened to this thing.  Now, before I go talk to him, is there ANYTHING you’d like to tell me?”
   
   The word “no” came out in a tiny squeak, and I shook my head and walked downstairs.  I held whatever it was up for Number One Son to see, and asked him what happened.  “Oh, yeah, I broke that, Daddy.  Sorry about that.”  (For the record, he has since learned the art of Lying For The Sake Of Self Preservation.  While it complicates situations like the above, we’re still oddly proud – though we don’t tell him that.)
   
   And I walked back upstairs, told the HTR what he’d told me, and took my lumps.  “I apologize for doubting you.”  Nothing else would have sufficed.
   .
6. Work on your situational awareness.  I don’t know about yours, but my kids are poster children for the experiment with the gorilla walking in front of the things you’re trying to count.  After 60 seconds, the subject is asked how many times the event they were tracking happened, and then about the guy in the ape suit who walked across their field of vision.  Something like half of them said, “What ape suit?”  If you don’t notice a fair bit of your surroundings, you won’t see safety hazards and you probably shouldn’t drive yet. 
   .
7. To err is human.  Period, full stop.  We don’t need to get into divinity, forgiveness, any of that.  Our ability to make mistakes, recognize them as such, and learn from them is a large part of what separates us from the lower animals.  If you’ve stopped making mistakes, you’ve stopped learning.  (If you keep making the same ones time after time, you’re probably crazy.)  Remind them not to stress over failures any more than they crow over successes – both are lessons. 
   .
8. People are crazy, and life’s not fair.  They will run into people who are mean, people who are irrational, and there won’t be a damn thing they can do about it.  Sometimes, the fates deal you a rotten hand.  Get over it and move on. 
   .
9. Plan for the long term.  Yes, everyone’s in a hurry, and yes, everyone’s late and running behind and playing catchup, in grade school, in high school, in college.   Don’t worry about it too much; make your goals and work toward them.  Use sunscreen and pay off your credit cards every month.  Trust me on these. 

So, I’m sure I’ve missed a half dozen things that I ought to tell them.  Readers, what else?  What do you or would you tell yours that should be on this list?  What did you hear growing up that stayed with you?

Tags: Children // 6 Comments »

There’s an article over at Momtourage.com, which usually has its head screwed on straight, that SOBUMD reviewed, retched, and had the Human Tape Recorder read as well.  She also made gagging noises, and I was forced to step in.  The article purports to review 15 things that should be said daily during your child’s teen years.   Needless to say, I can’t recommend most of these.   

————————————–

1.   No one will ever love you in the same way or have your best interests at heart more than your mom/dad and I will.   Crap.  This tells them that you and you alone are the only person they should ever trust, setting you up as an authority figure from on high.  You sound like a bully.  Are you unsure of your position as a parent?  Why do you need to tell this to your child, or even to yourself?  You are not infallible, and having their best interests at heart will not make you smarter. 

2.   You have so many gifts and options; I will help you capitalize/benefit from them as best I can.  First, see above.  Then ask yourself how that would sound if someone said it to you, today.   This sounds like pressuring someone to stop JUST SITTING THERE and go out and do something with your life because I know I didn’t and god I wish someone had kicked my ass into gear when I was your age, do you know I won that art contest in 8th Grade with Mrs. Grody’s class, and I could have been famous but I met your father and he needed to go to fucking LAW SCHOOL and where is he now, I ask you, and you have so many gifts, honey, you could really do something, and I will help you monetize your dreams so we don’t have to move anymore, OK?

3.   How can I help you reach your dreams?  Good question.  A better question might be “what are they?” 

4.   No matter what you confide in me, I will always love you and do what is best for you.  Crap.  If you don’t have ANY lines or boundaries, you probably haven’t been on planet for very long – welcome!  Also, you won’t do what is best for them – you’ll do what you think is best for them.  Again, you are not infallible, and having their best interests at heart will not make you smarter.

5.   My job is not to be your buddy.  I am your parent and will love and mentor you.  As best you can.  No arguments here. 

6.   I am sorry.  (Say this whenever you hurt your child, or your child is in pain from something someone else said to them.)  Innocuous in the latter case and not strong enough in the former.  First make sure you’re not going to hurt them again, and tell them why you did it in the first place.  Regardless, the word is “apologize” when you need to. 

7.   I embrace your friends, but I love you the most.  If you’re embracing them so much that your kid wonders which one you love most, I hope their friends are over 18 in most states. 

8.   It is okay to mess up; I do it all the time.  Wrong and wrong.  First, it’s OK as long as you learn from it, and you didn’t hurt anyone else in the crossfire. Some things are important, and if you’re talking to a kid and that kid is about to get a driver’s license, then sometimes it’s not OK to mess up.  Second, if you really mess up “all the time,” I’m calling CPS. 

9.   I am sorry you don’t like my rules, but you will have to abide by them.  I will hold you accountable if you break them and there will be a consequence.  Crap.  Rules are like facts.  Have your kid read Tom Godwin’s “The Cold Equations” and then talk about this.  I don’t care if you don’t like my rules.  Also, “if you break them there will be a consequence?”  Are veiled and vague threats really the best you can do?  Fear is a bully’s weapon.  Talk about what the rules are and discuss what the punishments for breaking those rules are as well.  Make sure you follow through with them. 

10.   If you are in trouble, call me first, no matter where you are.  I may be angry, but my first concern will always be your safety.  We will talk about punishment or consequences later.  Be smart and keep your wits about you.  If you’re in real trouble, 911 may be your better option.  If you’re old enough to be out on your own, you’re old enough to call the police when you need to.  If you’re not smart enough to know the difference between when to call your folks and when to call the cops, you probably shouldn’t be out on your own.  Also, note the veiled and vague consequences – what are the rules under your roof, and what are the rules if you’ve let your kid out to deal with the world on their own?  Think about it BEFORE it happens.

11.   You are an integral part of this family, and the family needs you to run smoothly.  So take your Castor Oil.  Seriously, one of my best friends was presented with “you are part of the family unit” when asking to complete high school in one state instead of moving in senior year; the response was “What, we’re R2-D2 and I’m an extendable arm?”  If you’re really working with your child’s “best interests at heart,” remember that the best interests of the family may not be the same as the best interests of each member.  Your goal as a parent is to raise a decent human being who can survive without you – not to outbreed the Joneses. 

12.   I don’t care what your friends get to do.  I am not their parent; I am yours and you are my main responsibility and concern.  Ah, making sense here. 

13.   I admire you more than you can ever understand or know.  Back to the beginning of this list – you can’t conceive how much smarter I am because I’m older than you are.  Your words are that they’ll never understand or know how much you admire them, but what they’re hearing is that they will never really understand or know you.  Is that really what you want to say?  Is the age difference between you the main source of your authority?

14.   If you get in trouble at school, be honest with me.  Your teacher is the authority at school and if I hear it from your teacher before I hear it from you, I will feel betrayed or deceived.  I may react to this breach of trust.  First off, make sure you know how this works – in this age of instant communication, the kid may not have access to a cell phone in the school, and you may get a call or email before they get home.  Yes, of course they need to be honest with you in this – as with everything else.  Also, “I may react to this breach of trust?”  WTF?  Back to vague bullying and veiled threats; I “may” react, but you know, I might not, since if you failed that test and it was in a subject that I didn’t care about anyway, and I always got D’s in math as well, and I’d had a couple beers already and you told me this bad news while bringing me another one, and it was nice and cold, you know, I might just not beat you for this one, but don’t let it happen again, youknowwhaddimsayin?

15.   From the first time I saw your eyes, I vowed to be the best parent I could be for you.  I make mistakes but they are not meant to hurt you.  I make them because I love you so much and get scared sometimes.  It is hard parenting a teen (your child will understand this confession).  Crap.  Unless your child is a teen parent as well as a teen child, they’re unlikely to understand this confession – as you yourself have stated pretty explicitly in Number 13 and implicitly in many of the rest of these.  “I make mistakes, but I don’t make them to hurt you, I make them because I love you.”  What in the hell kind of logic do you think your kid is using?   What the hell kind of logic are YOU using?   You were doing better with Number 8 (“It’s OK to mess up!”) than you are here – are you seriously excusing your mistakes by blaming them on “I love you so much?”  I assure you that your teenager will read this as “I make mistakes and they are your fault,” which is actually what you’re trying to say.  It’s not your fault, is it?  It never was your fault. 

————————————–

After this, it would be disingenuous of me not to post my own set of Big Ugly Truths to say to your kids.  Look for that post this week.

Tags: Children // 6 Comments »

It’s Friday, and that means answer time! For those of you who have commented with questions from previous ManFAQs, thank you. I’m adding yours to the list of questions women have asked about men over the years, and I will answer them all in turn – to continue to demystify the more malodorous gender for those of the gentler.  Actual questions, posed by real women, and answered by a REAL man. What could go wrong?

Question:  Why is it that whenever I get sick, my spouse likes to inform me that he is actually feeling worse?

Answer:  Now, hold on a second. 

OK, I’m back, thanks.  Yeah, he’s a jerk.  We all are, really.  This kind of behavior is ingrained in many of us from a young age, by which I mean ‘before we were born’ – the concept of brinksmanship, one-upsmanship, call it what you will.  Anything you can do, I can do better.  I’m the man in this house, sweetheart, and as such I expect to be taller, wider, heavier, faster, sicker, and drunker than you.  I’d love to say we got it from our dads, but mostly we didn’t.  We got it from one another, on the playground. 

“My wrist hurts.” 
“Oh yeah?  My whole arm hurts.” 
“Oh yeah?  My arm’s actually broken.” 
“Oh yeah?  Look, I’m bleeding.  Doesn’t bother me any.” 
“Really?  I’m actually dead.  I just breathe out of habit.”

Trust me, if you’re sick, he wants to be sicker – both to show you solidarity in your time of illness, and to keep up the game.  He doesn’t even think about it anymore, he’s not doing it consciously – it’s a call and response from his limbic system.  Try this: look dead at him, catch his eye, and sing a low note – then point at him.  No warning, no explanation.  I’ll bet you he tries to sing a lower note. 

So, yeah, you’re not feeling well.  He’s on his last legs, near death.  He just didn’t want to mention it because it’s not manly (unless he has pneumonia, which is bitchin cool), and besides, if he had told you how unwell he was, you might not think he was up for a little Hey Hey later. 

And he is.  Even if he’s dead. 

Now you know. Please, feel free to comment! Also, forward any questions you’d like answered to BUMD – at – biguglymandoll.com!

Tags: Children // Add Comment »

There have been a number of comments pointing out that 27 years of age seems to be the precise age, that moment of perfect ripeness when truly gifted, truly fucked up people burn out.  Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain, and Jimi Hendrix died at 27, and now Amy Winehouse joins that pantheon of addled and outrageous talent. 

I found her songs only after her career had peaked into decline, which is to say a couple years ago, and I remember wondering who was the cute girl in the videos, and where was the person singing, because hearing THAT voice coming out of THAT face just didn’t add up – she couldn’t possibly…  But she was.  And she was amazing.  I still hum Rehab, which sounds a little incongruous coming out of my mouth too, but not because I sing it well.  Mind you, we’re all singing Rehab a little right now.  One of the best eulogies I’ve read was by Alexis Petridis in the Guardian (http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2011/jul/24/amy-winehouse-a-losing-game).  He wrapped it up better than I could, noting that Amy Winehouse was famous because she had talent to burn, not because she burnt it.

At 27 years old, another very talented person was a first lieutenant in the US Army, having been drafted in 1958.  John Shalikashvili was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff when I worked as a civilian for the Department of Defense.  I never met him either, but stories about the boss trickle all the way down – and those stories always reflected a lot of respect for “General Shali.”

Even after leaving the service, he was a broad-minded strategic thinker.  In 2007, he had an opinion piece in the New York Times calling for a reversal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, and ran anther one in the Washington Post 2 years ago.  I’m sure I’m not the only one who sees bittersweet irony in that the policy was reversed the day before he died, at age 75.  I hope someone told him, and thanked him for doing his part – for freedom, for lovingkindness, and for our county.  He was one of the good guys.  General Shalikashvili was briefly famous because he had talent as well, and he burned it quietly, well, and with honor.

So RIP to Amy Winehouse and John Shalikashvili, whom the headlines have brought together for the oddest of reasons.  Maybe she’ll sing for him beyond the veil, while they wait in line for whatever’s next.  Fair play to them both.

Tags: Children // Add Comment »