FUF #26

If you consider my Friday posts to be an elixir for whatever ails you and you simply can't get enough, then you might as well face it: you're addicted to FUF. I know, I'm really running out of those. I should've given up on the FUF puns before they ever started. But no, I had to be a hero and carry on with this immense burden. "Hero" is a term that gets thrown around a little loosely sometimes, but I think you'll agree with me that once-a-week puns are truly the Lord's work. Anyway, it is a Follow Up Friday, so join me as I ramble before we scoot our tushies on over to the Car Watch.

On Wednesday, I wrote about the knee-jerk reactions of some very standard comebacks. I argued that many of them are so stale that they should absolutely be retired. I stand by that for the ones I brought up, but I've thought of a couple more that I'm not willing to let go of yet. When I drive past the street Petit, I automatically say, "Petit?! I don't even want to look at it!" I can't help myself. The same thing happens with Andy Pettitte on the Yankees. Sometimes I only repeat the word, and the people around me either nod knowingly or finish the sentence. It's very standard for me, but since it's not a universal automatic comeback, I say it's still ok. Any objections?

All too similarly, when I hear the word "rectum," I reply with, "Rectum? Darn near killed 'em!" Fortunately (for many reasons), that word doesn't come up daily. Still, it falls into the same category as "Petit" for me. Petit?! Sorry, there I go again.

In yesterday's post, I wrote about my Sociology 1 class that I took with Amber our freshman year. I couldn't find a place in there for this part of it, so here goes: After class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, we'd eat lunch together at the Carrillo dining commons. An ex-boyfriend of one of Amber's friends was often there at the same time. The first two times he came over to say hi, he didn't acknowledge me at all. "For all he knows, I could be deaf," I told her. So from that point on, I was her "deaf friend Peter." It never really came up because he never decided I was worthy of his presence, but I still had fun nodding and "not hearing" things that went on.

Last weekend, we went out to dinner with our friends Lisa and Paul and their adorable little boy, my homey T-roy. In conversation, Lisa said that there were "slim pickings" in reference to something. Technically, I believe she said "pickins," but that's neither here nor there. Either way, they're always slim. Not only do we never talk about a whole bunch of pickins (fat pickins, I suppose), but we also never stray from that synonym. Maybe I'll remember to say "meager pickins" or just "small pickins" next time. Or, "You wouldn't believe the obese pickins of cool t-shirts at Target" might work its way into Kleinspeak.

Speaking of which, my mom presented me with an auto-follower in her estimation: morbidly. I don't fully agree with her assessment. True, only one word tends to follow "morbidly," but it can appear in other sentences as well. "Amy sure was graphic about the car crash. She was so morbidly detailed that I feel like I was at the site." Am I off-base here? It's got potential, but in my mind it's nowhere near the "scantily" or "furrowed" level.

Here's something interesting: I was talking to my favorite brother (Kevin) on the phone, and he got a call on the other line from Playboy Radio. They were doing a bit on people with the same name but in a different profession, and apparently one of their staff there is named Kevin Klein. Two very interesting questions came from that bit of news. One: Really? Not because it's the same name as a famous actor? That's odd. And two: Really? Playboy Radio? Playboy...Radio. Yeah, good call. Let's hear presumably-hot girls talking. I'm sure they've got really valuable insight on...why, nothing at all. I could theoretically watch the Playboy channel with no sound and still get all of the benefits of the programming, but I can't say the same about removing sight from the equation.

Car Watch time!

First off, I saw "JST4TNA" as a plate a couple of days ago. "Just for tits and ass?" "J street for tits and ass?" "Just for tuna?" "Just for Tina?" "Just fotune, a?" "John Steven Thomas for Trump National Administrator?" Any guesses, gentle readers? "Jest for T? Not applicable," is the leader in the clubhouse for me right now.

Next, I was right near a plate on the 405 that read "UHHH NOO." For some reason, I have the feeling that this belongs to an attractive young lady who is fed up with being hit on. It must take a lot to get to that point, I would think, but maybe she's enjoying that new form of rejection.

("So what do you say we get out of here?" he asked with his coolest smile. She paused for a moment, then looking up and meeting his eyes, she said, "Why don't you come take a look at my license plate?" With that, she turned and immediately headed toward the door. Not knowing if this was a yes or a no, he followed her out the bar door. About ten yards later, she raised her alarm remote, and with a low honk and two flashes of the lights, it was unlocked. Suddenly he remembered her strange request, and he let his eyes wander off her ass just long enough to check out the plate. Oh. "Bitch," he muttered under his breath, then turned back to the bar, hoping his half-full beer was still waiting for him by his seat.")

Moving right along. I saw a more timely spin on one of my favorite recent stickers: "Cheney/Voldemort 08," it read. This is the updated version of "Republicans for Voldemort," naturally. In case you're not following, Voldemort is the super evil bad dude in the Harry Potter books. You really should read those already.

Rockabye wrote in to say that he say "JMBORE" on a plate. He was especially pleased since he was on Jamboree Rd. at the time. I didn't want to burst his bubble, but I have a feeling that car just drives up and down that street all day to make people like him feel special. Clearly it works.

Rockabye also saw "LVTUSHP" on a plate. By a show of hands, how many of you think that means "Love to shop"? Wow, that's a lot of you. What if I told you it could also be "Love tush, P"? Ya see, you wish you could take your vote back now, don't you? Oh sure, it could also be a UPS employee who "lives to ship," but that's highly unlikely compared to the other two possibilities.

Lastly, my dad wrote in to this week's Car Watch. "I C LIES" was on a plate, and it makes me wonder what that person's profession is. Polygraph administrator? Maybe it's really, "I see lies" in the sense that a caddie might say it. It could also be "Icy lies," and owned by Jeff Gilooly. Or a Slurpee employee might be warning us that "Icee lies," for when they say that they're the best frozen slushy fruity drink. Yeah, it's probably that one.

Ok, that is more than enough for right now. I hope you're all planning on having nice weekends, because I am and I like when we have things in common. If you're bored, ptklein@gmail.com isn't much of a time-waster, but it can help in its own way. See you back here on Monday. Shaloha.