Big Ugly Man Doll

Sometimes, people leave you hanging.  Sometimes, you are people. 

I spend a bit of time in the car, and since I’ve found that I can’t take notes legibly while driving, I record my thoughts on the Blackberry for later review.  This is possibly the single most useful feature of that device.   For the record, I can’t take notes legibly while I’m not driving either, but that’s not important right now. 

What’s important right now is that it occurred to me that I hadn’t actually reviewed my voice notes in a while, and so I listened to many of them on the way home today.   These tend to be notes for things I’m writing, have written and need to edit, or plan to write – either sometime soon, sometime when I get around to it, or Real Soon Now.  So, many of these notes tend to be fragmentary and end with the words “or something like that.” 

So while not altogether a surprise, it’s still annoying to hear my own voice come on and recite the following: 

“We were deep in the jungles of Sulamalasy when I found the body.”  I dunno, take it from there.

That was it.  And I said, out loud, to myself, “Thanks a lot, asshole.”   Sheesh.  That guy just expects me to do everything for him.  What a jerk.  I’m tempted to call him and tell him to write it himself.

Tags: Children // 1 Comment »

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:   “You are such a typical man.”  I hear that a lot, and sometimes I even say it.  What does that mean, really?  What is the typical man?

Answer:    “Typical Man” is usually a pejorative synonymous with asshole.  Example:  “Q:  When a woman is having an orgasm, her vagina is contracting and releasing rapidly.  What is her asshole doing?  A:  Sitting on the couch, watching the game.”  For further details, please see my collected works.

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

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The Reigning Queen of Pink has had, by any measure, a day.  So, for that matter, have I – on my part, partly because I am the father of the RQoP.

The day for me started with dropping her off at school (just after dropping off Number One Son), and then heading to my main office.  I spent a few quality hours there before driving to my Army office, spending a few quality hours there before driving to a meeting in Chantilly, where I spent a quality hour or so before getting on a conference call that lasted the entire drive home.  (Huzzah for hands-free cell phones.)  I was home for a quality 5 minutes, barely long enough to take off my jacket, before we all piled into the car and took the RQoP to her follow-up Dr. appointment for her endoscopy a few weeks ago – the upshot of which is that we’re going to try a limited test of introducing eggs back into her diet.  (Baked or cooked into things, such as cakes or muffins, not like mainlining scrambled eggs or a nice Benedict.)

So there we were, in the waiting room for the Dr, at 5:15, with 15 minutes before our appointment.  We waited.  For 45 minutes.  Because this is what you do in a waiting room.  I thought about explaining to them what my bill rate was, but since I was obviously ignoring their “no cell phones” sign and typing furiously on my corporate blackberry, I figured that might be disingenuous. 

Once in and out of the Dr office, we skipped down the road a block or two and put our names on the waiting list at a local eatery.  It was packed, since unbeknownst to us, buildings for miles around had just lost power and everyone decided to eat there at the same time.  To save time, we accepted their kind offer to eat on the outdoor terrace.

Do you remember the bit about having enough time to take off my jacket?  Right.  It’s nice out, if you’re dressed or drinking.  For those of us who weren’t drinking, namely SOBUMD and the kids, it was a little brisk – and I didn’t have my jacket to gallantly offer to any of them.  However, I remembered that there was a blanket in the van, and hastily went to get that – at least someone could be warm, right?

Do not put off until tomorrow what can reasonably be postponed until next week, maybe the week after, because hard work may pay off in the future, but laziness always pays off right now.  What’s in the van?  The bag full of clothes, toys, and oh hey JACKETS that we still haven’t dropped off at the local charity.  I walked back to the table with a blanket (hiding two coats, a sweater and a robe), and a “who’s the man” grin.  By the time I got back to the table, my next beer was waiting.  Brilliant!

We ate, in something much closer to comfort, they in their coats and blankets and I with my beer and my hat – hey, we were outdoors, and I stayed nice and warm.  We came home and I put the three lunatic children to bed.  The RQoP was significantly tired, and was nearly asleep by the time I arrived in her room with her toothbrush.  I propped her up, got her teeth brushed, and then gave her the inhaler – which was partly the point of the Dr visit – and she tried to whisper in my ear.  “What?” I asked.  Whisper whisper.  “What?” 

“I’m trying to whisper in your ear!” she whispered.  Why she should feel the need to whisper anything while we were alone in her room with the rest of the house awake, I couldn’t guess – but then, you don’t argue with those who rule by divine right, and so I dutifully leaned down so the cute, blond, 8-yr-old Reigning Queen of Pink could whisper in my ear:  “Sweet titty-fuckin’ Jesus, I’m tired!” 

Facepalm.  Right, probably best to whisper that one.  “Kid, I’m turning your light off now, and I don’t ever want you to say that again.”  “OK.  Goodnight Daddy!” 

She’d had quite a day, after all.  Needless to say, I walked out of the room and doubled over laughing.  There’s a reason SOBUMD goes by Inappropriate Girl sometimes… 

And so, after checking with my conscience for a few seconds and realizing I’ve misplaced the damn thing again, I decided that oh yes I could share that with you, dear friend, fond relation, and gentle reader.  I hope your virgin eyes recover.

Tags: Children // 10 Comments »

I try not to complain as a rule, particularly in the office, because in the first place no one wants to hear it, and in the second, well, I really don’t have much to complain about.  Except today, when I was asked how my weekend was, and I had to confess that while it was very very good in the general, there were some specifics that I could have lived without. 

For example, finding out that that noise the car’s making will require some work, and oh by the way it’s unlikely to pass inspection without it, and oh by the way the quote for fixing it exeeds the current value of the car.  

For example, finding out that the Human Tape Recorder came back from a 3-day camp extolling the virtues of her new soul-mate, who’s name is Tom.  Good news bad news!   Good news, Tom’s a horse, and not some 16-yr-old boy with a mullet and a motorbike.  Bad news, murmurs of repeats of the weekend, more riding, and the word ‘lessons’ might have crept in there.

And then it hit me, as I complained to my buddy in the office:  Car needs to be replaced, Kid wants more time with Tom the stallion…   Pimp my saddle, I need to see a man about a horse!  I don’t need to see his teeth, just kick the spurs and let’s trot to the office.  

Mind you, the first time he calls me Wilbur, I’m gonna shoot him.

Tags: Children // 3 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 my husband always notices if someone’s video game toon has reached a new level or gotten new gear – but getting him to notice a new thing in the house or a new hair cut is a bit like pulling teeth? 

Answer:    This is actually a corollary to the well-known issue of selective hearing.  The first thing you have to know is that Change Is Bad.  Well, not bad per se, but fraught with danger – because we don’t know how to react.  You’re describing changes that took place without our knowing about them beforehand – we weren’t there when it happened and we don’t know what your reaction was at the time. 

Do you have any idea how much trouble we think we’ll be in if we come home and say, “Wow, great haircut!” only to find that you are firmly of the opinion that this has been the worst hair day of your life to date, and you’re contemplating shaving your head, and you’ve been crying since you got home?  What if it turns out that new vase is from your great aunt Mollie, whom you loathe, and you’re pissed that you have to display it at least until the holidays because what if she comes over with Mom unannounced?  We don’t know if YOU like it yet.  Aversion to that kind of danger is literally built into our DNA – because guys who routinely step on those domestic landmines don’t procreate as often.  For obvious reasons.

Video games aren’t more interesting.  They’re just safer, by which we mean “less likely to impact our chances of Hey Hey later.” 

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 »