Same to you, buddy!

The Irony Gods were watching out for me this morning.  Driving to work, a guy in a gray Hyundai pulled up next to me at a stop light, rolled down his window, and yelled “Hey Buddy!”  I turned, prepared to give him my patented “Armed Response Look Number 4,” when he followed it up with “You have a brake light out.” 

Ah, a good Samaritan.  “Thank you,” I shouted back.  He pulled in front of me. 

He had a brake light out.

It turns out that he works in the same location I do, and I followed him for the next 5 miles, off and on.  I finally pulled up next to him at a stop light, motioned for him to roll down his window, and said, “You *do* know that you have a brake light out also, right?” 

He gave me what I’m certain was his patented “You have *got* to be kidding me, asshole” look number 2, and said “No…  Are you kidding me?”

“Nope, driver’s side brake light, and may the blessings of the Irony Gods be on us both!” 

I’m still not sure he believed me, which will make it all the sweeter when he checks his brake lights tonight and realizes that I wasn’t kidding.  I had to tell him, though – Karma dictated no other course.

Morning lulz

So there we were, sitting on the back deck enjoying my coffee and watching the birds – just me and Albus the Gay. Flitwick isn’t allowed outside – he’ll jump over the rail and run. Albus is a little too large to get over the rail, and not inclined to run.

Soon we were joined by Number One Son, who while noisy was at least calm. We sat out for a little longer, then NOS decided to see who else was awake – by which he usually means, wake them up, which I admonished him not to do.

He returned in a few minutes and explained his findings. “I think Mommy has short-term amnesia.”

“What? Why’s that?”

“Well, I told her that you were sitting on the deck drinking your coffee, and then I told her that Albus was with you, and then she told me to go find you. She’d already forgotten that I told her where you were! It must be low-grade amnesia.”

Yep. Must be.

ManFAQ Friday: Make Him Feel Like A Man

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: I was reading this post – http://madamenoire.com/56323/8-ways-to-make-a-man-feel-like-a-man/ – about how to make your man “feel like a man” and I wanted your opinion.  Does this stuff work?

Answer: What the hell?  OK, the short answer is no.  The article provides an intro and then 8 examples of how you can make your man feel like a man, whatever that means.  In the interest of completeness, I will respond to each of these items in turn, to maximize your understanding of how far off she is in most of these cases.

The male ego is a fragile one. Like women, men need to know you care, that you are appreciative and that you love them. Just as daily compliments and sweet kisses make us feel feminine and pretty, there are similar things we can do for our men to help validate their masculinity. The things we say and do mean much more than they lend us to believe. Seldom do men admit to their specific emotional needs but, in many ways, they want the same things. Your man wants to feel loved; he wants to feel attractive; he wants to feel capable and needed.

OK, what?  First off, no, he doesn’t want to feel attractive or feel validated or feel needed, he wants to feel your chest.  If you think his ego is fragile, you should assume that he thinks you’re more likely to sleep with him if you think that.  It’s not fragile, it’s just very, very hard.  His “specific emotional needs” are limited to Hey Hey and beer, for the most part, and if he seldom admits them, it’s because they’re embarrassingly short.

So much for the into.  Then begin 8 tips for “helping your man feel like the man he is,” which I’ll address in turn:

1.  Let him order for you. Ask him to take you to one of his favorite restaurants and insist he order for you. Since it’s his spot, he will enjoy selecting something he’s certain you will like. And, if you don’t, send it back and let him try again.

Send it back?  This is not a game of Go Fish, Go Chicken, or Go Salad.  This is a restaurant, and if you’re going to let him order for you, you’re damn well going to eat what shows up in front of you.  To say nothing of the wait staff at his favorite restaurant, who are going to cringe when they see you walking in with him next time.  Send it back???

2.  Attend his company events. If you and your guy work in different industries, this is the perfect chance to let him professionally flex his arm candy. Men are often proud of the women they love, so let him bask in showing you off.

Also, please wear the skimpiest outfit you have.  As long as we’re showing you off, let’s make sure to push them up and out, highlight the orchestra and balcony.  Flat and sassy isn’t why you’re here – that ain’t it kid.  Let’s add a dash of silicone, tape that dress on and shake those maracas.  You want him to get promoted, don’tcha?

3.  Make his plate. Waiting on your man lets him know he is special and you want to take care of him. Whether you are visiting in-laws, attending a cookout or eating Chinese takeout at home, make a plate for the booskie — at least every once in a while. He will feel like he’s doing his job and be inspired by your appreciation.

He’s doing his job by sitting on his ass in front of the game and waiting for you to bring him food and beer?  The only thing this is going to inspire him to do is keep sitting on his ass and waiting for you to bring him more food and beer.  Also, he’ll eventually suggest that you could bring that plate to him while naked.  Although that may be an issue if by “visiting in-laws” we mean your parents – his dad won’t mind, and his mom probably thinks you’re a hussy anyway.

Also, what the hell’s a booskie?

4.  Put him in charge of the directions. Men like to think they are good at following and remembering directions. When he insists on knowing how to get somewhere, say O.K. Better yet, put the ball in his court and suggest he take the responsibility. You know, because he’s so gifted.

Look, we all know what a bad idea this is, right?  I’ve covered this one before, right? Don’t go there.  Nothing good can come of this.

5.  Give him full reign in the bedroom. Don’t speak just moan and give your man complete control. Let him flip you up, down, over, under—whatever he wants (within predetermined parameters, of course). Talk dirty, scream and groan so he can take credit for the bad girl moment. He will fall asleep feeling like a stallion.

That’s right ladies, it’s better for him when you’re standing on your head.  Predetermined parameters?  Bah, what fun are those?  Let’s go exploring!  Open up!  After all, he’s looking for you to have that “bad girl” moment, so he can take credit for it – because only bad girls make noise.  All the rest of the girls he’s been with were quiet as mice.

Do you know why we have this myth?  I’ll tell you.  It’s because we never heard our parents in Hey Hey Flagrante.  There’s this subconscious thought that since MOM never made noise, either they never did it, or the right way to do it is silently.  As a parent, I can tell you that it’s quiet because we don’t want to wake up the damn kids, not because it’s more fun that way.  Sheesh.

So please, just let him stand you on your head, curse for him a bit, and think of England.  Don’t worry about the stallion thing – he’ll fall asleep regardless.

6.  Teach him to drive while pleasured. Men love oral sex, especially when it’s uninhibited and spontaneous. Unzip his pants while he’s driving and make that trip to church a little more exciting.

Church???  “Give us this day our daily head” is NOT how I remember that prayer, but hey, it’s been a long time.  Also, “uninhibited and spontaneous?”  Have you ever given inhibited head?  How does that work, exactly?  And spontaneous – right, that’s why we’re planning this several days in advance.

Since we’re here, let me clear up a few myths about this:  No, we’re not going to crash the car, assuming you don’t knock into the gear shift.  (The other gear shift, thank you very much.)  Also, no, we’re really not going to steer over toward that 18-wheeler so the trucker can watch.  (Unless you want us to, which is a different post.)

But anyway, yes, this one’s a winner – make sure you both have something to feel freshly guilty about when you get to church.  Great idea.

7.  Give him a massage. Ease him into the night after a long workday with a pre- or post-shower massage to help relieve tension. Verbalize how hard you know he works and how much you admire his ambition.

It’s not his ambition he’s waiting for you to admire, and if you start rubbing him “to relieve tension,” you’d better assume we’re going to be rubbing everything else “to relieve tension” in short order.  Showers after.  Besides, we covered how hard he works in number 3, above – his job is sitting on his ass in front of the game and waiting for you to bring him food and beer.  It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.

8.  Thank him. It doesn’t have to be for anything out of the ordinary. In fact, it will probably go farther if it isn’t. Focus on the small things like how he always opens doors or takes the initiative to make minor repairs around your condo. Let him know you are thankful to have a man who can care for you.

Thanks for picking up your damn underwear the second time I asked.  Thanks for finally remembering the garbage goes out on Wednesday night.  Thanks for ordering the pizza again.  Sure, good idea.  You could give him one of those little “Winner” statues as well; the second-grader down the street has a few he can loan you.  Sadly, he won’t get the irony.


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

Birthday After-Action Report: Screw the Song!

Oh God, here we go.

You have to understand, there are whole minutes at a time when we forget that Number One Son is different.  The big pharmaceutical companies do their jobs well, and he does great on his meds, and he can go for just minutes and minutes without straying too far from the bounds of what society considers “normal.”  He’s in public school, and he’s not just succeeding, he’s excelling.  It’s great.

But he is not, in fact, like most people, and he really doesn’t care about what society considers “normal.”  Not even a bit.  Just wouldn’t occur to him.  And at home, when his meds have worn off, we’re all good with that – this is his safe zone, and it’s all a constructive training exercise for the real world. 

Just when I thought I’d seen everything, it’s time for cake.  Due to a rolling birthday dinner, early presents, and late icing – to look like a chess board, as requested – the cake was the last part of the festivities; the dinner was long gone and the presents were long opened.  On with the cake!  On with the candles!  1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-and-one-to-grow-by!  Two quick matches and I have 12 candles lit, lights out, and the rest of us – SOBUMD, the RQoP, the Human Tape Recorder, and myself – begin to sing.

Group, singing:  Happy Birthday to You!
Number One Son, speaking:  Screw the song.
Group, singing:  Happy Birthday to You!
Number One Son, Yelling:  Screw The Song!
Group, singing:  Happy Birthday…
Number One Son, blowing:  Whfffffffffffffffffffffff!  [blows out all the candles]
Group:  Uh…
Number One Son:  Well, I SAID screw the song.
Group, recovering:  Happy Birthday to yoooooooooooooooooooooooooou!

We laughed our asses off.  In my entire 42 years on this planet, I have never seen someone blow the damn candles out on their cake before the song was over.  It didn’t occur to me that you could do that.  I just would never have thought of it.   

We’ll never get through another birthday without laughing like loons.  “Screw the Song!” just became the cake-hungry rallying cry of the rest of my kids. 

Of course, the HTR had the last word:  “Well, it’s not like we can carry much of a tune…”

It’s Not Every Day Your Young Man Turns 11

It’s shaping up to be a good week all around.  Today is Monday, and 5 out 6 of my needs on Maslow’s hierarchy have been met – and it’s not even 0730.  Plus, Number One Son turns 11 today, and he and I have already been up for an hour or so, singing songs and eating cold leftover pizza for breakfast. 

Some days, it doesn’t get better than this, and at 11 years old I think he’s starting to get it.  Happy Birthday to Number One Son!