We, by which I refer to myself, the BigUglyManDoll, together with my wife, the WifeOfTheBigUglyManDoll, are doomed. The reason we are doomed seems to change from day to day, but I am certain our doom is no less immanent for all that.
Today’s reason follows a conversation with Number One Daughter, the nearly nine yr old Human Tape Recorder. (Yes, I date myself, but “Human Voice Ripper and MP3 Playback Device” lacks that je ne se qua.) It went as follows:
BUMD: You need to finish your homework.
HTR: But I want to talk about something else.
BUMD: Is it related to school?
HTR: Kind of – we could talk about that “talk to your kids about sex” commercial we saw on TV the other day.
BUMD: Well, um [looks around for WifeOfTheBigUglyManDoll], sure…
HTR: I’m wondering, why did they bother running it at all?
HTR: I mean, kids talk about sex all the fucking time.
BUMD: Please, [looks around for WifeOfTheBigUglyManDoll], don’t use that word.
Doomed, I tell you. Doomed.