FUF #22

It's Friday, homies and homettes, so it's time to rock the cradle of FUF. Yes, the cradle of FUF don't rock easily, it's true. But that's what I'm here to help with.

As is customary, I will attempt to follow-up on some things that didn't make the cut in this week's original posts, talk about some random stuff, then head off to Car Watch Land, where everything is bright and cheery. One problem with today's FUF: I don't really have anything to add to this week's posts. I have random stuff to talk about, but I pretty much put everything I wanted to in the posts. Maybe it's the whole Friday the 13th thing that's messing me up, or maybe it's all a part of the circle of life. In either case, I'm going to be more random with some stories before an extended Car Watch. Sorry/Enjoy.

Last week, I wrote quite a bit about people interpreting things in different ways. I guess that does tie in with the whole miscommunication thing. Anyway, in the first Austin Powers movie, Dr. Evil has one of the greatest monologues in cinematic history. He is talking in the group therapy session about his childhood, and it gets progressively weirder and funnier. For shits and giggles, here it is from our friends at Wikipedia:

"The details of my life are quite inconsequential.... Very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with
low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize; he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament... My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon... luge lessons... In the spring, we'd make meat helmets... When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds — pretty standard, really. At the age of 12, I received my first scribe. At the age of 14, a Zoroastrian named Wilma ritualistically shaved my testicles — there really is nothing like a shorn scrotum — it's quite breathtaking... I suggest you try it."

So many parts of that speech became permanent parts of my group's vocabulary. We all agreed that it was sheer brilliance, and the only bone of contention that arose had to do with a line that's almost lost in all of that: "In the spring, we'd make meat helmets." It was probably a year after we'd all seen the movie about fifty times that the subject of what "meat helmets" looked like actually came up. As it turned out, we all had images in our heads, but they really didn't match up. I encourage you to stop and think about this for a moment, picture your own meat helmet, hold it there, and now continue to read. I want to know how it compares with the three styles you're going to read about.

Most of my friends pictured three different cuts of meat. One on top of the head and one on each side. Steaks, really, and tied to one another with the kind of string that butchers would use. My lovely wife pictured more of a big flank steak molded around someone's head like a wig. And I pictured a rounded meat helmet formed from ground beef. Sadly, scarily, I found more options on the internets. If you're bold, check out http://www.hatsofmeat.com/ to see what I mean. The "base-bull cap" is the closest I see to my own vision of the meat helmet. I was particularly inspired by the "Brisket Yarmulke," and I know you will be too. So, comment away. When I said to picture a meat helmet, what did you see in your mind's eye? I truly am interested.

Speaking of interpreting things in a couple of ways, I had written about my misunderstanding of Mr. Bob Marley's songs. There's another song that I can see meaning one of two things: "Copacabana" by the one and only Barry Manilow. I'm pretty sure I know the answer to this one now, but humor me. When he says that the club is "the hottest spot north of Havana," I get two possible meanings. He could either be saying that it's the hottest place around, excluding everywhere geographically south of the city of Havana. Or, I hear it as him maybe saying it's the hottest place in the region that's located just north of Havana. I only know one thing for sure: don't fall in love there; you just might get yourself shot. Bad idea.

My homey Rockabye wrote me and asked about the "tentional" in "intentional" and "unintentional." I'm feeling lazy, so I'm not going to look anything up. I will say that I do find it interesting to think about intent vs. extent and how they're not antonyms. They both have something to do with doing something, but that's about it. It would be fun to start using "extentional" in place of "unintentional," but it doesn't feel right. Yes, I'm just thinking aloud through my fingers at this point.

And now, let's boogie on down to the Car Watch.

Sacky Christi wrote in her blog about people misinterpreting her vanity license plate. Here is what she had to say: "Now, the plate is not that cryptic - GO WNGZ. I even have the Detroit Red Wings license plate frame around it to help out those who don't get it on first pass. But, I have been asked some really strange things regarding that plate. I think the weirdest was - 'So, you must really like Minnesota. Right?'" I feel your pain, SC. I had "M V PETE" for several years, and I got dumbest comments of all time on that. Granted, not everyone is familiar with "MVP" since it's technically a sports phrase, but that's no excuse for what I got. "Oh, I get it. Move Pete!" "Oh, like Envy Pete but NV was taken, right?" "That's funny, like Motor Vehicle Pete." No, no, and hell no.

Speaking of plates, I saw "NT GIL TI" on one yesterday morning on my drive into work. That falls under the "a little too defensive" category for me. And no, it wasn't a certain former NFL player. I looked just in case.

My mom saw a license plate frame that read, "Stop Starring at My Ass." I had to clarify with my mom that she didn't have a typo in her email. I think "Stop Staring at My Ass" is odd enough by itself since the person is almost certainly seated. "Starring" though brings it to a whole new level. Just like Nate Dogg and Warren G, if you know what I mean (and I know a couple of you will at least).

Driving on the 10W in Santa Monica, I spied "SM NATV." "Ha!" I said aloud, and that's more than enough to earn a coveted spot in a FUF.

That afternoon on the way home, I saw a frame that bothered me a little bit: "I am Spending My Kids' Inheritance." I appreciate the correct apostrophe usage (provided there are multiple children), but that's just a weird thing to flaunt. How do the kids feel about that, ya think? I'm trying to think of a situation that would make that cute instead of weird, and I've got nothing.

Lastly, I saw a short and sweet bumper sticker that summarized what everyone around it was thinking: "The 405 sucks." It had a period too, and that finality made it a lot better in my eyes.

So that's it for this week, gentle readers. Thanks for hanging on. I'd like to once again ask you to please send in mis-heard song lyrics to ptklein@gmail.com for an upcoming post (or two). So far, I haven't been exactly flooded with messages, but I wouldn't mind the occasional deluge. Then I can refer to things as antediluvian, and that's always been a goal of mine. Have a great weekend, everyone.

**UPDATE** Please vote in the poll on the top right. Maybe I'll add those from time to time for more shits and giggles.