Big Ugly Man Doll

I forget, some days, what a bloodthirsty bunch we’re raising here.  I just got home, and the first question I was asked by the Reigning Queen of Pink was the usual question, asked by kids from time out of mind:  What’s for dinner?

Big Ugly Man Doll:  Dinner will be something that happens to a chicken.
Reigning Queen of Pink:  Did you kill it yourself?
BUMD:  Um, what?
RQoP:  Did you kill the chicken with your own two hands?
BUMD:  While I’ll admit that with the day I’ve had that sounds pretty reasonable right now, no, I do not customarily perform avian exsanguinations. 
RQoP:  Oh.  Oh well.

She walked off disappointed, to the point where I was thinking, gosh, I should really bring home a live bird and kill it for her in the backyard or something, before I came to my senses.  Bloody minded little thing, I love her so.  Reminded me of this post, from the dawn of time.

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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:  What does it mean when men tell you that they prefer women who don’t wear a lot of make up?

Answer:   For some of us, it’s a time thing.  We know that you could look great if you went in the bathroom and stayed there for 45 minutes doing all that stuff you do.  We just don’t want to wait that long – as long you look pretty good to start with.  If you look like you were rode hard and put away wet, he’s probably not telling you that he prefers women who don’t wear a lot of make up.

The rest of them mean that they prefer women who don’t look like they’re wearing a lot of makeup.  Chances are, if he saw you rolling out of bed in the morning, he wouldn’t recognize you.  He doesn’t know you spent 10 minutes putting your face on, he was probably looking at your chest.  As long as you don’t look like Tammy Faye Baker, you’re doing it right.

Now you know. Please, feel free to comment with any questions you’d like answered!

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So, tonight, the newly minted 12-yr-old is curling up in bed with her first Heinlein. I walked her through a short lesson:

BUMD: Who colonized Australia?
HTR: Um, the Brits.
BUMD: Why?
HTR: I think they sent all their prisoners there.
BUMD: Right. So now, imagine that the provincial world powers get their collective heads out of their butts and arm the UN, handing over most of the nukes to a central government.
HTR: Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaay…..
BUMD: And then, some genius gets the idea that we need another penal colony, like the Brits had with Australia. We have a world government. Where do we put the criminals?
HTR: I dunno, I guess the moon.

Right in one. She’s reading Heinlein’s The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, which was one of my all time favorites. So, the world – even the world of fiction writers – was long divided about Heinlein’s place in polite society. I’m either a wonderful father, continuing my child’s educational journey, or I’m materially contributing to the delinquency of a minor.

SOBUMD had the best response to the question: “I think it’s been too late for that one for a few years now. You could hand her anything from Catcher in the Rye to Lady Chatterly’s Lover, it’s not going to make a damn bit of difference.”

Ah well. Everything I’ve learned that turned out to be worth knowing, I learned from reading books that someone else had banned. Eff ’em.

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I find it highly amusing that when I yell, “You Idiot!” around here, both cats assuming I’m talking to them.  None of the kids do.  Obviously healthy, well developed egos. 

Also obviously, highly trainable cats.  Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?

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So here we are again, facing down the frightening prospect of another Halloween – another birthday for the Human Tape Recorder.  On Saturday (yesterday), we had the Party of the Bus, whereby the HTR invited 5 other 6th grade girls, with whom she rides the bus, to celebrate her birthday between 11am and 3pm.  Since SOBUMD had knee surgery earlier this week, I was the principal party coordinator – and believe you me, I know how to throw an AWEsome party! 

Yeah, right. 

“There’s a DVD player downstairs, along with 3 computers.  Yell if there’s blood; I’ll call you for pizza.”  These are bright 11- and 12-yr olds; I figure if they can’t find something to do for 4 hours, she’s invited the wrong group.  Needless to say, she had the right group.  But – what do 6 girls in 6th grade in this high-tech, high-octane world do for a 4-hour birthday party?  These are the children of the Internet!  Why, they play their high-tech games and listen to their techno-pop modern music, of course. 

You know, like the Beatles.  And such games they know!  Twister.  Foosball.  Truth or Dare.  And a few good rounds of Hide-n-Seek.   Between the music, the games, and the homemade pizza sauce and self-made pizzas (I had them shape their own dough and place their own toppings), these girls could have had this party in the 1950s. 

(A huge shout-out for party facilitation is due to our dear friends who removed the Reigning Queen of Pink for several hours, with no notice whatsoever – pink 8-yr-olds and Goth-leaning 12-yr olds do not mix as well as you’d think.)

There were a few notable highlights:  During one round of Hide-n-Seek, I stepped into the upstairs bathroom.  Luckily for all concerned, I was only there to grab the laundry basket.  Also luckily, my heart started right up again after a small voice whispered, “Just so you know, I’m back here,” from behind the shower curtain.  Scared the hell out of me.  Needless to say, she won that round.

Another note highlighted the historical knowledge these girls show:  Walking past the pizza-scarfing sextet, I heard one of them shouting, “Ich bin ein Berliner!”  Unable to resist, I interjected, “That’s right – you ARE a small jelly doughnut!”  As I walked upstairs, I heard her explaining to the group that the reason that exchange was so funny is because “that’s what John F. Kennedy really said in Berlin when the Berlin Wall came down.”

SOBUMD and I laughed until we hurt – I was NOT going to dissuade her of that notion. 

The only other highlight, if I may say so, was the cake.  There are significant downsides to letting your kids watch too much Food Network TV, and the raising expectations are probably highest on that list.  “Daddy, since I’m turning 12, you’ll make me a 12-layer cake, right?”  How could I refuse my little angel? 

You can eat the pieces as they’re taken off the field, you know, like rugby players do.

Again:  Yeah, right.  She’s only lucky that I view this as a challenge – I maintain that TV is mostly crap, and if I’m to hold my end of the argument, I see it as necessary to be able to cook anything that shows up on their little screens, just to prove that I’m better than the TV.  I had the same problem with Number One Son a few years ago – he wanted a birthday party with a chess cake.  That would be a cake on which one could play chess, and then eat the pieces as they’re taken off the field, you know, like rugby players do. 

So yeah, 12-layer cake.  Step one: bake 12 small cakes…  It didn’t take as long as I thought it would largely because we got the damn oven fixed that morning, and I was able to bake them 6 at a time.  Came out OK, and looking more complicated than it was – which is of course the idea.  All the girls liked it, even though several of them couldn’t finish their slice.  At first I couldn’t understand this, until I realized the finished cake weighed something over 6 pounds. 

12 years, 12 layers. If she's still living here at 19, I'm in trouble.

If the entire post above seems choppy and disjointed, I assure you the party seemed like that as well.  All in all, a good and happy birthday party for the Human Tape Recorder!     

Today being her actual birthday, Trick or Treating for her birthday is on tap for tonight, along with visits from the Very Clever Grandparents and Aunt Janice.  More cake!  Happy Birthday to the HTR, and Happy Halloween to one and all!

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