FUF #30

Good morning. Sometimes I wish I had enough topics and stories that I didn't have to resort to the gimmicky Follow Up Fridays. Man, I hate myself for FUFfing you.

Thank you, thank you. Nothing like a little Joan Jett and the Blackhearts pun to get things kicked off. If that doesn't fill you with the spirit of shaloha on this glorious Friday morning, then nothing will. Yes, 'tis Friday, gentle readers, so I shall ramble about things from this week, ramble about random things, then ramble in this week's edition of Car Watch.

In yesterday's post, I wrote about getting pulled over by the po-po while my friends and I were en route to the cinematic masterpiece known as "The Waterboy." I mentioned that we came home that night with a bunch of new quotes, and I'd be untrue to myself if I didn't mention my very favorite one. Allow me to set the scene. Henry Winkler's character (named Coach Klein, incidentally), is having dinner over the Boucher residence with Bobby (Adam Sandler) and Mama (Kathy Bates). Mama prepared snake as the main course. Coach Klein asks what part of the snake she thinks they're eating. She responds with, "Uh, basically, a snake don't have parts. But if I had to call it anything, I would say it's his...knee." That absolutely cracks my shit up. First of all, saying snakes don't have parts is hilarious enough on its own. But then for her to guess a knee for an animal that doesn't have legs, well, that's just comedic gold. Kathy Bates, don't forget to list "The Waterboy" on your resume; you did some fine work there.

Ok, I think that's the only related thing I have from this week. Time to get all random on yo asses. My lovely wife and I are getting a new vinyl fence/rail thing on some steps at our house, and we had a guy out to give us a quote, and "give us a quote" he did indeed. "Yes, we can do that for a little less money than the competition because we're fabricators." He meant that they made the vinyl materials in their own facility, but I chuckled to myself because it sounded like they're liars. I guess that's one way to have a lower estimate. Oh, English language, how you amuse me to no end.

I was in my car last week, and I heard a Chevy commercial that got my attention for two reasons. First of all, it was for their "year end event" and we were still in August. Second of all, it sounded like "urine" to me at first. Who wants to go to a "urine event?" Nevermind, don't answer that. Please put your hands down; you're embarrassing yourselves. But seriously, that's on par with playing Christmas carols in August. I would say it's worse because the end of the year is technically after Christmas, but this commercial wasn't nearly as annoying as the same songs we're force fed hour after hour during the fourth quarter of each year.

Without further ado (because honestly, we all have enough ado already), it's time for shake our John David Booties over to the Car Watch.

Like many of you I'm sure, I've seen people in their cars talking on a cell phone with one hand and smoking or eating with the other and wondered how their handless driving skills would hold up in an emergency. A woman in a car behind me on the freeway last week took it to another level though. A cell phone and cigarette were both in the same hand, and the other hand was busy picking the hell out of her nose. Talented and classy! I love L.A.!

An old student worker of mine stumbled upon UOPTA by Googling herself and seeing her name in a comment BKS left some time back. I'll post what she wrote me, and I think you'll see why I got along with her: "I read your recent blog about personalized license plates. I saw this one a few weeks ago: IMAGIN8. I am still stewing over it! Imaginate a world in which imaginate was a word. Can't? Me either, it's too terrible." Thank you, Kelli Walters; your email made my day.

While we're on the topic of the number 8 in license plates, my mom saw "I H8 W8N"...in traffic, no less. He or she must have been sooooo pissed. I don't know about you guys, but I totally would've pointed and laughed.

As always, my homey Rocakabye sent me a crapload of license plates. I'll share just a few now and keep the others in my secret stash. First off, "IM (Heart)N ME." Ego, party of 1, ego.

Another read, "YBE SANE." I can think of several reasons, actually. Let's see, they're the whole upside of possessing mental faculties, the ability to live in the same world as one's peers and loved ones, and the opportunity to be a functional member of society, just to name a few. There are probably more that I'm missing.

He also sent me a license plate frame that said, "You're the Bestest Mommy." Wow, I don't know what to say. First, um, thank you, I suppose. Second, I'm not sure I deserve this honor, ya know, considering I'm not a mommy of any sort. I'm my dog's daddy, and I have fathered 201 blog posts, but that's all I've got to speak of to date. Still, thanks for the proclamation.

Lastly from Rockabye, he saw a plate that read, "ILLIAD." He sent me that in a text message, and I thought, "Yeah, so?" Then he sent me another text right after saying that he neglected to mention that the plate was on a Honda Odyssey. Brilliant. If the driver's name is Homer, I don't think my English Major brain would be handle the awesomeness of that combination.

And lastly for realsies, I saw a non-personalized plate that started with "5HIT." Tee hee, that's funny because it's almost a bad word. Yes, I'm 30.

Have an absolutely wonderful weekend, friends. Please remember to write to ptklein@gmail.com, and in turn, I will continue to wish you absolutely wonderful weekends. Good deal, no?