FUF #33

Shaloha, friends, and good morning. You never close your eyes anymore when you read my post. That's right. you've lost that FUFing feeling. Whoa-oh that FUFing feeling. Yes, gentle readers, we're back again for another Follow Up Friday. If I can read numerals correctly, this is the 33rd of its kind. That's crazy-whack-funky, if you ask me. Being a FUF means that I shall ramble about things from previous posts, maybe ramble about completely unrelated items, and then bask in the glory of another Car Watch. Get comfy, because I'll include the stories from reader challenges (in Monday's comments) at the end and make this the longest FUF of all time. I've had enough ado so far this morning, so without further ado, let's launch right into this bad boy.

To begin, I posted a picture of an eye chart earlier this week. When I was searching for one on the goldmine that is Google Images, I first typed in the words "eye" and "chart." I know, I'm crazy like that. I found a few good ones but nothing that had the look I wanted. Basically, I wanted one that had the "DEFPOTEC" line showing. If that means nothing to you, congratulations. My family is weird, granted, but even I think it's bizarre that we all know that DEFPOTEC is a line on the standard eye chart. My bro can say it backwards quickly too, incidentally. So on a whim, I looked up "DEFPOTEC" on Google Images and a bunch of the same pictures and even better ones came up (including the one I eventually selected). Not only that, pictures and links from people talking about knowing that line came up and even a band with that name appeared. How do you like that: words and music coming together again for the FUF. I really enjoy that name, because it sounds like some cool European rock with some electronica mixed in but it's actually just a thing weirdos and nerds know.

Sacky Christi wrote me with a link to an article about the demise of the hyphen. Apparently there are several words that had hyphens but won't in the upcoming version of the Oxford English Dictionary. Here's the problem though: I don't think I would've put a hyphen in any of the words they mention. For example, they list "bumblebee," "leapfrog," "crybaby," and "logjam," amongst others. Listen, I'm as hyphen-crazy as the next guy, but if I wouldn't have considered them in those words, then that battle's been lost already for a long time.

A thought occurred to me. If I beat someone up, you could say I gave him a beatdown, correct? Why can't "up" and "down" get along like that with other words? "Wow, the Dodgers really gave a fuckdown to that pennant race." "Dude, I can't believe you complimented our boss on his cufflinks; maybe you could give him a bigger suckdown next time and say you like his cologne." What do think, guys? Will this new phrasing take off?

Ok, let's do a brief Car Watch now so I can get to the stories that some of you have been waiting for since Monday. This is going to be an all-Rockabye edition, because he really outdid himself this week in texting the hell out of my phone.

First, he saw a plate that read "IBSOBR." I sure hope so. Does the driver think that the plate will save him if he's swerving a little and the cop is on the fence as to whether to pull him over or not? "Whoa, looks like we've got a drinker here, let's turn on the - oh wait, nevermind, the guy's car says he's sober." Sure thing, buddy.

Rocakbye saw two bumper stickers on the same car. First, "Knitting is sexy." If you have to tell us that something is sexy, it probably isn't. Second, "Honk if you don't have gonads." He said it was for having your pets spayed or neutered, but I prefer to think that it's for eunuchs.

Here's an interesting license plate frame: "Honk if you're cute, bark if you're ugly." Does the driver really want either of those things to happen? It would be unsettling to have ugly people pull up beside me (or give me a pulldown, if you will) and start barking.

Lastly, in the category I often cite: "Divers do it Deeper." Nicely done, stranger.

Ok, it's story time. First, here's the one to address the gauntlet thrown down by loyal reader Wendy:

Right now

The sun is still low enough in the sky that I can look directly at it without hurting my eyes. Dawn in the big city is unlike any other time, and I’m taking all of it in. I bring the coffee to my lips and sip insouciantly, savoring my final few moments of solitude before I let my thoughts invade. Before long, the serene scene outside will give way to the cacophonous rumblings of industry and progress-for-progress-sake. Then I must turn from the hotel balcony and rest my hands upon the keyboard in hopes that something trickles down and out through them. If I just capture that one evanescent thought before it flees, I can rightfully count the day as a success. Right now though, right at this very minute, there is nothing but peace and anticipation behind my half-closed eyelids. I can see the crumpled piece of newspaper beside the trash can, the fractal of stones set in the street, and the steady blinking of hazard lights without contemplating them further. Right now they are only things and nothing more, but the spring in my mind is loading. Dawn in the big city: the archetype of potential energy.

Melissa’s was definitely harder because since the words were so bizarre, I had to sort of define them in the story so people would know that I was using them correctly. This one's a bunch longer, and in a very different tone.

Liam the Wanna-Be Shepherd

Once upon a time just outside of Dublin, there was a young man named Liam who was on the verge of beginning his own career as a shepherd. He came from a long line of shepherds, and it had been his goal to follow in his ancestors’ footsteps ever since he was a wee hobbledehoy who couldn’t hold a stick. There was one problem though: he only had one lamb and it was therefore mighty difficult to show off his skills. So he and his pet traveled throughout the region, hoping he might find someone who would hire him to tend to his or her animals.

After two unsuccessful weeks, he was on the verge of giving up when he heard a voice. “Oy,” it called, “oy, young man.” He turned, and an old scary man with a look of otherworldliness stood before him. “That’s a very fine lamb you have there. I wonder if you might be interested in striking a deal with an old man.” “Oh, I’m sorry sir, but she’s not for sale.” The old man lifted the brim of his hat a little, and Liam saw a glint in his eyes that could only be described as…magic. “Please allow me to make you an offer,” the old man said with an eerie yet still kind smile. “In exchange for your little cosset there, I can provide you with an unlimited supply of food for the rest of your life. I have…ways to do such things,” he said, and he tapped a long, yellowed fingernail on a glowing green gem set in his necklace.

“Oh, I don’t think I-” Liam started to say, but then he had a thought. “My whole life I shall spend working so that my family may have food. Think of all the things I could do if the food were already there! I’d hate to give up little Siobhan here, but it’s not as if she has helped me realize my dreams yet. Maybe she's even been holding me back.” Liam looked at his lamb and ran his hand through her mellifluous wool, knowing that this was probably goodbye. He glanced in the old man’s eyes, then down to his necklace, and then back up to his eyes. “Ok,” he said, “I’ll do it.” Immediately, the old man pointed at the lamb and she disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Where’d she go?” Liam asked. “That’s my business now,” the old man said, without even a trace of the gentle ambience he exuded just seconds before. “Enjoy your sustenance,” he said with a wry grin, and then he too disappeared. All that was left in his place was a single ceramic bowl.

From that day forward, all Liam had to do was tap the bottom of the bowl and it would instantly fill with porridge. It was never anything else, just bland and disappointing porridge. He missed Siobhan, and he knew after day one of his new life that his pyrrhic victory was definitely not worth the price he paid. Worse yet, his dull diet combined with his yearning for his fluffy companion had caused the oddest form of synesthesia for him: every time he saw wool or even a wool-like substance, he would immediately taste porridge in his mouth. It was a cruel trick of the mind, forcing him to constantly relive the worst decision he’d ever made in his life.

All was not lost, however. Liam found that he felt better when telling others about his tale of woe. Eventually, his friends convinced him to write an autobiography, and it soared to the top of the best-seller lists. He made enough money from his book that he was able to smash the ceramic bowl and buy himself 20 sheep for some recreational shepherding. The name of the book: “Where There’s a Wool, There’s a Whey.”

On that note, have a great weekend folks. I'll be in Vegas for a conference on Monday and Tuesday, so my posting times may be off, but I'll be here as soon as I can. Please feel free to comment on anything and/or write to ptklein@gmail.com.