Iamb what iamb

Good morning, friends, it’s good to see
You came to spend some time with me.
This Day of Leap is very rare,
And so I thought it best to share
An exercise in writing verse
With you (for better or for worse).
With four iambic feet per line,
These are the thoughts of Peter Klein.
I’m testing whether I can tell
My stories even somewhat well
While sticking to da-DUM da-DUM
Or if these parts don’t have a sum.
I’ll make a deal with you and say
The next time that this extra day
Occurs on Friday (when I write),
It too shall be in verse. Alright?
(That’s in two thousand thirty-six,
which nicely rhymes with “dirty tricks.”)
The deal is set, and now I pause
To share with you this project’s cause:

Before I go to sleep, I find
That reading slows my active mind.
It does it rather quickly too
(In sometimes just a page or two).
Well recently, my book of choice
Has been “Ulysses” by James Joyce.
(Just kidding folks, for that immense
Majestic work is far too dense.)
In truth, the book’s “The Golden Gate”
By Vikram Seth (pronounced as “Sate”).
I’ve read it once or twice before
But recently desired more,
So that’s the book I’ve been perusing
Almost nightly. It’s amusing
The length of time a book can take
When one is only half-awake.

Why do I like “The Golden Gate”?
In short: Because it’s fucking great.
Here’s my official book review:
“What Mr. Seth set out to do
Was write a book - in sonnet form!
This concept – so outside the norm,
Came way too easily for him.
To entertain this crazy whim
Is bold enough, but he succeeds
With mastered crafting and exceeds
All laid out expectations.” So,
It’s good enough, I’ll have you know
That when I lay my hands upon it,
I drink in every kick-ass sonnet.

A strange phenomenon occurs
Right after sleepy vision blurs
The pages of the book. In bed,
My body's weary, but my head
Continues with iambic meter.
Though half-asleep, I think, “Oh Peter,”
But it’s too late, the beat goes on,
And so I play along – a pawn
Within this game of rhythmic chess.
Resigned to simply acquiesce,
I close my eyes and hear the beat,
Of four iambic metric feet.
And then, as if machine-controlled,
Atop the beats, some words unfold:
“I'm curled up beside my dear,
And wait for sleep to join me here.
And if it doesn’t happen soon,
More coffee in the afternoon
Will surely help me stay awake.
Unless caffeine is a mistake.”
The words are different every night,
And often the meter’s not quite right,
But still this process does the trick,
And sends me off to sleep. And quick.

Some theories say iambic feet
Are like a heart’s consistent beat
(lub DUB, lub DUB), but in my head
It’s closer to a train instead:
A steady, mechanized sensation
‘Til it ceases at its station.
Perhaps the repetitious beat
Is more like footsteps down a street
At night with no one else around,
When shoes create the only sound.
Regardless of the metaphor,
This beat’s supposed to echo more
Than others and be more aligned
With what’s inside the human mind.
I always thought it was b.s.
But now I have to second-guess
That theory since it resonates
So much with me as it creates
A mental wave that’s tough to shake.
If you’re intrigued and want to take
A stab at reading something fine,
Just search for “Vikram Seth” online.
You’re scared of Amazon.com?
Then I can lend it to you (Mom).

I’m switching topics, but I’ll try
To keep this verse thing going. I
Don’t know how long it’s gonna last
(the need for rhymes just comes so fast),
But here we go. I have a thought
Or two that recently have caught
My eye (or ear), and so I'll share.
Well, as you know, I often care
More than I should about a word
Or phrase or lyric. Well, I heard
A sports reporter somewhere say
“The Maple Leafs are gonna play…”
I tuned the other team name out
And couldn’t help but think about
Why “Leaf” was pluralized as such.
Is saying “Leaves” instead so much
More difficult? It’s not to me.
I do say some things differently
Or even wrongly (truth be told).
I don’t think I’m alone. If polled,
I think the vast majority
Of you would find that you agree
With what I’m putting out there. So,
Look down, now right. Ah, there you go.
That thing you move along the screen,
Or, well, controls that thing, I mean,
It’s called a mouse, we all agree,
But what would two of those things be?

I know that I say “mouses” there

Instead of “mice.” And I’m aware
That “mice” is probably correct
(Which makes me wrong). Do you object
To my assessment of this word?
Please comment. Let your voice be heard.

In that last section, I recalled
A poem I wrote that since has crawled
Into the caverns of my brain
That store odd things and keep me sane.
This one came up because it too
Was like this post in front of you:
In couplets, rhyming ones like these.
I’d like to share a few – a tease
Of sorts, I guess, if you’ll permit.
But first, I’ll share the name of it.
I called it “Prose and Cons” and talked
About Islamic faith in locked-
Up prisoners and how a man
Could find his peace in the Koran.
(Qur’an, I mean. I realized
My version’s super-anglicized.)
The poem was very light in tone
With puns galore to make you groan
(as I am known to do at times)
And humorous attempts at rhymes,
Like: “Frank, who now goes by Shabbaz,
Says it’s the best book that he has.”
The couplet format worked out well
And matched the cold bars of the cell.
Not really, that’s too convoluted.
Here’s how that exercise concluded:
“And so with Allah as my God,
I’ll write more soon. With love, Ahmad.”
I’m sure if I were looking for
The poem, I’d find it in some drawer
Or unpacked box with other sheets
Of quirky thoughts. And this completes
My talk on poetry of yore.
(I aim to please, and not to bore.)

A radio commercial pissed
Me off and made it on my list
Of things that anger me. (It’s long,
But when an ad strikes me as wrong,
Regardless of the product’s worth,
It makes its Peter’s Hate List berth.)
This hotel chain was proud to say,
“We wash our bedding EVERY DAY!”
I’m shocked that, A: they found it rare
Enough to feel the need to share
This news as something cool. And B:
That some hotels might not agree
With that amount of water use.
I’m willing to let that abuse
Of energy exist (or lest it
Mean my bed is germ infested.)
It’s kinda like a fast food joint
Who pays a lot to make the point
That NOW they only use real meat.
So what’s the stuff I used to eat?

I watched the Oscars, even though
My lovely wife and I don’t go
Out to the theater much. We rent
A few and catch a good percent
Of nominated films. Along
Those lines, we saw and liked the song-
Infused, inspired indie flick
Called “Once,” which soon became our pick
For “Music from the picture” or
Whatever that award is for.
The song, called “Falling Slowly,” won
Despite the film “Enchanted’s” ton
Of songs within the music group.
The film’s about the vicious loop
A struggling musician’s in
And how his talent helps him win
His own respect and take some strides
Toward modest goals. At first he hides
In other people’s songs, but learns
That absent of the fire that burns
Inside of him, the songs he sings
Are nothing more than background things.
There’s so much more, and we enjoyed
The film a lot. If you’re annoyed
By thickly-Irish brogues like his,
Learn where your “Captions” button is.

And now, my peeps, I’d be remiss
If in the midst of all of this
I didn’t even try at least
One Car Watch Item. Ready? Feast
Your eyes on this one. Ready? My
Good friend and homey Rockabye
Saw something strange and sent a text
Because the license plate perplexed
Him and, I’ll add, perplexed me too.
It read, “IM2LA4U.”
Now maybe I’m just being dense
But I don’t think that makes much sense.
I’m bothered by this. In L.A.,
It’s pretty weird for him to say
That he’s too “us” for us. Ya know?
I think it’s weird, that’s all. Although,
It would make sense if he should move
(which I’d wholeheartedly approve).

And lastly, as I sat in traffic
And tried to reach the pornographic
Capital (the Valley), I
Saw something that I’m gonna try
To share in verse. I think I can.
You see, there was this minivan
With something written on the door
In dirt, as we’ve all seen before.
The thing that makes this not the same
Is that it was a business name.
And better yet, at least to me,
It was a painting company.
I’m sure if I were given ample
Time, I’d find a worse example
Of marketing one’s business, but
That’s pretty hard to think of. What
If someone’s car or truck proclaims
“I tooter kids”? I like these games.

That’s it for me; my verse is done.
While challenging, I’ve had my fun.
I’d like to hear from some of you
To see if after reading through
This many rhyming words, you find
The meter’s imprint on your mind
Continues like it does for me.
(That started this whole thing, ya see.)
So now this nerdy project ends.
Thanks for your time. Shaloha, friends.

So raise a glass

Shaloha, my brothers from other mothers and sisters from other misters. Except Kevin, who is my actual brother. That reminds me (already) of something. I wrote Kevin an email last week with the subject line, "A little late." Here's what it said:

I have no idea why I just thought of this, but here goes. You know what would've been a funny thing for your speech at my wedding? This: "Growing up, I used to always joke that Peter was adopted and that I remembered the day our parents brought him home. Well, Peter, on this special day I will finally admit to you that you weren't actually adopted. In fact, that teen couple from Connecticut is technically still your parents in the eyes of the law." Oh well, maybe next time.

I really don't know what brought me to what someone else could've said four years ago, but that would've been a funny zinger, don't you think? He was nice to me throughout his speech, mainly because he said I was nice during my speech at his wedding seven months earlier.

Hey, this little aside just turned into a bona fide topic on which I can write. I fucking love it when that happens! Here's the deal: as a 30 year-old, I've now been to a good number of weddings. (There are two more coming up in the next few months, including the couple that my friend Lisa and I set up. Yes, we're still very pleased with ourselves about that.) Often, the Best Man/Maid of Honor speeches don't stand out too much to me. They're almost always just sweet and a touching tribute to the new couple. And while I haven't seen any "Remember when we double-teamed that hooker" speeches, there are still a few that have stood out for various reasons.

First off, I was at a cousin's wedding somewhere in the early part of this decade. Her husband had grown up in Canada, specifically in Saskatchewan. When his best friend was up there for his speech, he referred to them playing hockey together as kids in Regina. Two interesting facts about Regina: one, it's the capital of Saskatchewan; and two, it's pronounced so that it rhymes with vagina. Therefore, a funny scene unfolded at our table when he spoke the name of the city. Even though they were turned almost 180 degrees from me to watch the speech, I could immediately see my parents' cheeks rise and their faces turn a little redder. Slowly and as nonchalantly as possible, they turned to look directly at me. I'm not sure what they expected to see, but when I smiled and gave a kind of "aw yeah" nod in their direction, they had trouble holding in their laughter. Fortunately, they managed to keep it under control enough that we didn't have to say anything awkward like, "Sorry for interrupting your speech, but a word you said thirty seconds ago rhymed with a part of the female anatomy." Although, if my parents had said that, I could've replied with "Mulva?" and brought the house down. Damn. Next time.

The second Best Man speech on which I'll write is from a wedding shortly after that first one. The thing is, I'm not entirely sure whose it was. I don't think it was my friends Lisa and Paul's, but if so, I apologize in advance. Where has my memory gone? That used to be my calling card, and key details are rapidly disappearing. Actually, I take that back a little. I just scared someone yesterday in my office when I reminded him that we sat next to each other on a plane two years ago. "Oh yeah," he said. I told him, "You were playing a Space Invaders-type game on your iPod the whole time, and you thought the flight attendant said that we could purchase a 'snatch box' instead of a 'snack box.'" He stared at me blankly for a second, then said, "Ok, you have a scary good memory." So I still have it to some degree. Ok, back to the wedding I don't remember. In this speech, the best man started with something to the effect of: "Is there anything better than new love? Yes. Old love. The love of two people who have been together for decades and love each other so completely..." He had just one or two more lines, then raised his glass and said, "So here's to old love!" I turned to my lovely now-wife and said, "We're toasting to something better than the new couple?" We replayed the speech in our heads and realized that yes, that's exactly what we were doing. I equate that to something like this: "Congratulations on your new job as Assistant Editor of the school paper. The only thing better than that is being the actual Editor. Long live the Editor!" I know he meant well (whoever he was), but I think it wasn't executed in quite the best manner.

The third Best Man speech was from my friends Suzanne and Andrew's wedding. First off, Andrew's got a fantastic British accent (he's from the same area as Sting), so anything that he or his best mate said automatically sounded better than our silly American accents. In the speech, the friend was nice to Andrew throughout it save one remark about his receeding hairline. Maybe I'm just overly sensitive to that as I see my forehead slowly turning into a fivehead, but I think that's below the belt. (Yes, I know anatomically that my head is above the belt, but please just let it slide. I'm willing to let "head over heels" slide, even though that's where they normally are in relation to each other. I will not, though, give Alannis Morisette a pass with "Head Over Feet." You see, Alannis, that's not the phrase. When I first heard that song, I initially got angry, but then I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. I thought, "Maybe she used 'feet' because she needed a rhyme and is using vaguely-poetic license." What word actually needed the rhyme? "Me." So no, she didn't get any kind of pass from me. "Me" rhymes just as well with "heels" as "feet" does, except one of those two is actually in the colloquialism she's attempting to use. The scary thing is, that doesn't even crack the top two of Alannis songs that piss me off for one reason or another. It might be in third place, solely because I can't understand any of the words to "Uninvited" enough to hate them.) In any case, Andrew just laughed it off and didn't seem bothered by the comment at all. Gotta hand it to them Brits.

And now, the granddaddy of all Best Man/Maid of Honor speeches. To protect the innocent, we'll call this couple "Donna" and "Joey." Let's just say that by the time the Matron of Honor and Maid of Honor went up there to do their joint speech for Donna, the bar had been open for several hours. It was something. I shall try my best to recreate it in dialogue format.

Friend 1: (giggle giggle) I remember the first time that Donna met Joey.
Friend 2: (grabbing the microphone from Friend 1) Wait! Wait! (giggle giggle) And she was like, "Who's Joey?"
(both laugh uncontrollably)

I can't do it justice, so I'm going back to paragraph form. Let the record show though that they spent literally five minutes laughing, passing the mic back and forth, and saying absolutely nothing. My lovely wife and I weren't even engaged at that point, yet this wedding had us already discussing what we wouldn't do at ours if that ever happened. It got even better though, as a drunk aunt decided that she wanted to grab the mic and say a little something. I'm paraphrasing a little here, but I think it's fairly accurate: "I just wanted to say...that while everything is so nice and beautiful here today...someone is not here with us and it's not right. It's not right, because she couldn't be here. So while this is all very nice, it's not right because someone isn't here with us and she should be." That went on for a while, and the confused guests just smiled politely and waited for it to end. Later, we asked Donna what the hell that was all about. "My grandma had diarrhea and didn't want to come today. The way my aunt said it though, it sounded like she had died, and my cousin thought that's what happened and started crying." Nicely done, drunk aunt. It was memorable to say the least.

And now, one quick note before we launch into the Car Watch. Our friend Riley thought of me when a word came up, and that made me happy. She explained that to her, "extraordinary" sounds like it should mean "not just normal and boring, but super normal and boring." I see her point. When my co-worker Rob used to get a regular vanilla latte with whipped cream every single time at the Coffee Bean, I thought he was being extra ordinary. Now that he occasionally switches it up, he's back to regular ordinary.

Crap, another quick note. One of the drinks that he's gotten instead recently is a "Hot Vanilla." "Is that any different than what you normally get?" I asked. "Yeah, it's like a hot chocolate, but with the vanilla powder and steamed milk instead. There's no coffee in it." That blew my mind, and so I had to get one to see if it was worth all the fuss. It was tasty, but a little too sweet for me. I'm not the best judge of these things since I like my coffee black, so I encourage you to give it a try if that description sounded good to you. I know, I'm such a giver.

And now, it's time to shake your groove thangs on down to the Car Watch.

I saw a license plate on my way home from work that said, "CR8ZY ME." Yes, you're so cratezy. I'd better look out, because there's a creightzy person next to me! Ooooh. This flies directly in the face of Peter Klein's Rule #1 for vanity plates: "If thou canst makest thy message fit on thy plate in a manner that preserves the integrity of said message, then dude, just let it go."

I then saw a plate that told me, "HIIMPOO." Gosh, could that person have any lower self-esteem? What a sad way to introduce yourself to the public. "Good morning. I am excrement. Yes, the body already took the nutrients out of everything you ate, so all that left over waste is...me. Have a nice day."

My homey Rockabye saw a bumper sticker that made me smile. "Say No to Negativity," it said. I'm pretty sure I'd seen that one myself, but I appreciate the humor and the message. I could get all deep and philosophical about how sometimes a piece of a vice can help stop the negative behavior all together, but that makes my brain hurt a little. On the plus side, "A Piece of A Vice" would be a great business name for a drug dealer.

Lastly, Rockabye saw a bumper sticker that pissed me off enough that it gets the famed closer position of this week's Car Watch: "Witches parking. All others will be towed." I wrote back immediately, "On a car? And no apostrophe? WTF?" He confirmed that yes, the grammar-lacking sticker was on the car while trying to tell us who can park there. Park on the car? Or is she saying that wherever she decides to park that car, it should be for witches only? I'm truly at a loss (and an angry loss at that), and I desperately want to ask that person what the hell she's thinking. And I sure hope she made that sticker herself, because otherwise it's doubly bad that someone thought it was a good idea to create it and someone else thought it was a good idea to buy it. I hate people sometimes.

But I adore all of you, my gentle readers. Although I must say, I sure would like for some of you to chip in with a thought every now and then. Like or dislike a word or phrase? Have a favorite joke? See something on a car that you liked, disliked, or didn't get? Do you like cheese? Anything, folks, anything at all, and ptklein@gmail.com is there for you. Have a great weekend and week. Happy Birthday on Monday to Robin, who found the love of her life thanks to me and Lisa. See you all back here on Leap Day. Awwww yeah.

Love, presidents, and other random things

Hello and good morning, friends. Well, crap. I have no idea what to write about. I have a bunch of smaller items on my list of single-paragraph thoughts, but I don't know if I should just bust those out (and empty the reservoir, if you will). I know, I'll start with two timely thoughts I had, see how much space those take up, and then proceed from there. Feel free to jump in at any time with any questions that might arise during this session.

Oh, I thought of another thing. Cool, even if it's quite brief. Yesterday, as many of you are likely aware, was Valentine's Day. (At least that's how my calendar writes it. I understand that it's the day of Saint Valentine, and so the apostrophe is technically correct there. Still, I can't help but think of "valentine" as the noun of someone's sweetheart, which I'm fairly certain is the most common usage of the word. Second, if I had to guess, would be the paper a kid gives to another on that day. Anyway, since I don't think of the saint first, I want to write the holiday as "Valentines' Day." That way, it is the day of more than one Valentine. I'm confusing myself though, because my calendar says "Veterans Day" without any apostrophe at all I would expect that to be an s-then-apostrophe one as well. Maybe I'm just way to liberal with my plural possessive usage. I really would like your opinions on this, even though it's not exactly the most important current issue in the world. I believe that would be, "Should Josiah have made the final 24 of American Idol this season?" The correct answer to that one is no, by the way.) Earlier in the week, I was asked two separate times about my plans for the night of the 14th. I told both my friend Greg and my homey Rockabye that I was going to be making my lovely wife dinner that night. Both of them had the same response: "Oh, quesadillas?" To me, the funny thing isn't that they both said that. It's the fact that if I were to tell my friends Dusty, Dave, and Jon, my favorite brother Kevin, or either of my parents that I was making dinner, I'm certain that it would've elicited the same response. I guess you can't spell "predictable" without Peter.

(Man, side notes sure to add words to a post, eh?) Sticking with yesterday's faux-but-nice-nonetheless holiday, I was waiting in line at a store to buy a Valentine's day card earlier in the week. A man in his 50s or so started walking toward me, shaking his head in a manner that clearly said, "I can't believe what I just saw." He was dressed pretty nicely, and as he started moving toward me, I noticed that he held a copy of the National Enquirer in his hand. Still smiling and shaking his head, he came right into my personal space and said, "Will you get a load of this?" He pointed to the cover. "What's, uh, what's her name again?" he asked me. "Oprah Winfrey," I said, not concealing a slight "Are you fucking serious?" tone to my voice. "Her husband or boyfriend, Stedman-" I quickly looked down, and sure enough, Stedman's name appeared on the cover. Thank God. Seriously, if this guy knew Stedman's name but not Oprah's, my head might have exploded. He continued, "Stedman told her that she needs to choose him or him." On the second "him," he was pointing to a picture of Barack Obama. Yes, the paper was alleging an illicit love triangle. And yes, this guy thought it was all true and it blew his mind. "Uh, yeah, that's something," I said before being thankfully called over to an open register. I don't know what part of that interaction I found most astonishing: not knowing Oprah, wholly swallowing that bullshit story, or the need he felt to share that story with the first person who came into his line of sight. Actually, I think I figured out what confused me the most about the whole scene. If he didn't even know Oprah's name (which is retardiculous in its own right), then how could that story be so earth-shattering to him? We'll never know, I guess. (A lone tear falls on the trusty blogger's keyboard.)

Yesterday, my Bratty Kid Sister told me that Yahoo Radio had a station of all 80s love songs. Naturally, I had it on for a few hours. It was hilarious as I went through Journey, REO Speedwagon, Bryan Adams, and the duet of all duets, "Endless Love." While I was laughing at the vast majority of the songs, one made me sit up, say "Ooh ooh!" and turn the volume a lot higher: "Someone" by Depeche Mode. It had been a long time since I'd heard that song, and it sounded great. Here's the thing about this song: it spoke to me when I was a teen boy yearning for a deep relationship with a girl (preferably a smoking hot one). It was one of those rare instances (not incidences) in which it seemed like someone understood me. I was deeply entrenched in the "nobody understands me" phase, so that's really saying something. To commemorate how moved I was by this song, I actually wrote the initials to some of the lyrics on one of my bookcovers next to an eye with a teardrop below it. It was obscured a little by my drawings of "Sphincterman, The Contracting Muscle of Justice," but it was on there nonetheless. I think part of me hoped that some hot chick felt the same way about the song, glimpsed the initials on my bookcover, saw the tear representing a feeling but vulnerable young man, and then starting making out with me. If memory serves, that never ended up happening.

(A side note that may or may not be interesting whatsoever: I also wrote the initials of "Under the Bridge" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers on another bookcover at some point. It probably had to do with the opening lines of "Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner/Sometimes I feel like my only friend." Ah, gotta love the teen years. In any case, I distinctly remember briefly thinking that I had found a secret message or code in the initials of the lyrics. I wish I could remember what I believed that message was, because "SIFLIDHAP SIFLMOF ITCILI TCOA LAIA TWC" means absolutely nothing to 30 year-old Peter.

Ok, enough with that holiday. Let's move on to next Monday: Presidents' Day. Ah, the calendar got the apostrophe right there. Good thing too, because I probably would've been pretty angry at such a clear-cut call for the plural possessive there. I mean, seriously, that holiday was specifically created so that we didn't get days off for both Washington and Lincoln. Good job, calendar. So, with the topic of presidents, I always like to think of the most obscure ones. To me, Millard Fillmore is mentioned often enough as the default obscure president that he no longer fits the description. (That, my friends, is irony.) So I just looked up the list of presidents, and there are a few that I would like to nominate for the most obscure POTUS. At first glance, I was going to say John Tyler, but then Zachary Taylor caught my eye. His name may be more familiar, but the fact that he died of natural causes in office just a year or so after being sworn in caught my eye. How did I not know that? I know about William Henry Harrison dying of pneumonia a few months after taking office, but Taylor somehow slipped though the cracks. Those two presidential deaths of natural causes were within a decade of each other. I wonder if that had an effect on the number of people who ran for that office, seeing as how it greatly reduced one's lifespan. Rutherford B. Hayes is another fairly obscure one, as is James K. Polk. If Martin Van Buren didn't have kick-ass sideburns, I'm sure that he'd be in this discussion as well. So tell me, folks, who do you nominate? Did you just learn of any president from this paragraph? How many people out there do you think named their kids Taylor or Tyler without knowing that there was a president with that name? Sadly, I estimate that number to be in the hundreds of thousands. Yikes.

Hey, I just did a quick search for something irrelevant about presidents, and I spotted a very funny comment. Apparently, Zachary Taylor has another noteworthy distinction: he's the only president who shares his name with two-thirds of the band Hanson. You learn something new every day, my friends.

Ok, now I'm going to go through a few of the smaller items I have on my List o' Things to Write About When You're Fresh Out of Ideas. Yes, the fabled LTWAWYFOI really does exist. Some dreams really do come true. First off, I saw what has to be one of the nerdiest items of all time. While bowling in my league with my fellow Sweep the Leg teammates, I noticed a very peculiar looking ball that a fellow bowler had. Granted, bowling itself is fairly nerdy. I'll agree to that fact, even though I enjoy it immensely. However, the nerdiness factor increases exponentially when a clear bowling ball has a big twelve-sided die in the middle of it. For those of you unfamiliar with that object, it's what's used in Dungeons & Dragons. Yes, we found something unequivocally nerdier than bowling. When combined, it's an almost unspeakable level of geekdom. (That totally sounds like a book title. Keep your eyes out for "An Unspeakable Level of Geekdom" by Peter Klein, hitting bookstores this summer!)

Here's another quick hit of things I've thought. A co-worker of mine was talking about dressing up for Halloween when she was a little girl. She said that it was one costume and one costume only for years: a princess. She went on to describe the wand, the dress, and, in her words, "the dunce cap and everything." She's totally right. I'd never noticed how extremely similar a princess's headwear and a dunce cap are. Why is that ok? I mean, I know fairy tail princesses aren't always making the wisest decisions, but they're a model of purity and goodness, not unintelligence so extreme that one is forced into a corner with a special "I'm dumb" hat. Do you think they're from the same origin somehow? Too bad I gave up internet research for Lent.

And like that - poof! - I'm already to the Car Watch portion of this post. It's almost like magic when that happens.

My friend Dusty sent me a text message yesterday with a bumper sticker he saw: "I dyslexia (heart)." Brilliant! All this time, I thought I was such a genius for singing Paul Westerberg's "Dyslexic Heart" as "Cixelsyd Traeh" with my friend Adam. It just got us confused looks though. With that bumper sticker, however, the owner clearly and concisely makes fun of the learning disability. And I applaud him for it.

My dad saw a plate that read, "MRXITMT." Maybe it's just me, but I think "Mr. Excitement" is a title one should have bestowed upon him and not self-proclaimed. Oh yeah, and either fit it on a plate in a way that makes sense or abandon the idea. It took me longer than it should've to realize that it's not Mr. Exit Mountain. (I also toyed with a mis-spelled 'excrement' somewhere in there. Um, please don't let me ever write that sentence again.)

My homey Rockabye saw "NOOMAAS" on a plate. That's great...if you're being tortured in Spain. It's not easy to incorporate a complex emotion like anguish in just seven characters, but I really feel it in that one. Well done?

He also saw a plate that made me laugh quite a bit. "IHVNOIQ," it told us. While I certainly hope that's not the case (especially since that person's driving and all), it's more self-deprecating than I'm used to seeing in that medium. And we all know the Klein formula of humor: Self-deprecation + unexpected situation = big laughs. Rinse and repeat.

Last, but oh-so-not-least, is a license plate frame I saw on my way home from work on Wednesday. "Voice over artists...Do it with a boom." Now what kind of lame sexual innuendo is that? How about "Voice over artists...Do it while you're picturing someone else" instead? Nope, they went with "Do it with a boom." Does that mean very quickly and forcefully? Do they really want that to be what they're known for? Can I have another question in this paragraph? Why not?

And like that, I'm out of here. My Bratty Kid Sister's birthday is next Tuesday, so I'm wishing her an early happy one here and now. I suggest you all do the same...in your minds. Have a great weekend, Presidents' Day, and work week until I see you back here next Friday. I'm interested in all of your thoughts about obscure presidents, so comment away. And as always, please feel free to email ptklein@gmail.com with anything at all. I need ideas and thoughts, folks, so please keep sending me anything about anything. Thanks, and see you soon.

Musician fruition

Good morning, my homemen and homewomen. I hope that this morning finds you all well, and that you're not too tired from all of the Lunar New Year parties last night. My calendar tells me such interesting things sometimes. I have a topic on which to write today, so I may as well launch right into it, eh?

When the powers that be were handing out various talents, the one assigned to dole out musical ability somehow passed me by completely. I can moderately carry a tune, but no one will ever turn and say, "Wow, you have a good singing voice." It's not horrible (I think), but I know my limitations. If I pick up a guitar, it's as awkward as if I were holding a baby alligator. A bass guitar looks a little more comfortable, but only if I keep from touching the strings at all times. I've always been partial to the percussion family, and I'd say I excel more at "steering wheel drumming" than any other musical activity. And even though I was once told that I have "piano player fingers" by a musician, I'm limited to "When the Saints Go Marching In," "Mary Had a Little Lamb," "Chopsticks," and a couple of tunes I don't know the names of that my mom taught me. None of which require using more than one or two fingers at the same time, naturally.

Meanwhile, my friends Jon and Dusty started playing guitar regularly (and well), and Greg and Dave each tried picking it up. It didn't really catch on for those two, but they can still pick up a guitar, fiddle around, and not look like a complete moron. I do look like a moron, and I can only blame so much of the awkwardness on being left-handed.

So, when I learned about the video game "Guitar Hero," I thought it would make perfect sense to stay the hell away from it. Why set myself up for certain failure and humiliation? I heard great things about how much fun it was from my co-worker Rob, but I still was far from interested. From what I could tell, it involved having to look like you knew what you were doing: hitting the right buttons and strumming at the right time. Both activities, to the best of my knowledge, were far beyond my abilities (let alone simultaneously). "South Park" had a very funny episode about the game, in which Stan's father Randy said something to the effect of, "If the kids spent half as much time with real instrument as they do with this video game, they might actually accomplish something." I concurred.

I walked around Best Buy with Rob and saw people playing the demo versions, and it looked even harder than I expected. If I were ever to try it, I told myself, it would probably have to be with absolutely no one else around.

As it turned out, there was one other scenario in which I would allow myself to look foolish: surrounded by people I've known for at least a decade (or three decades in one case). Dave and Twilight had a party, and Dave was borrowing his brother Seth's Wii console and Guitar Hero game. After watching a few songs, I meekly inquired about how it would work for a lefty. Seth showed us the very easy way to put it on lefty mode. "Watch out for the whammy bar though - it's kinda in the way for lefties." I saw what he meant, as it was obviously designed for the majority, but I thought, "What the hell," and selected a "beginner" song on the easiest level.

The indicators of what note to hit started coming, and it took me a little while to find the right timing. After I missed a large percentage of the first twenty notes or so, the fake crowd starting booing me. The real crowd of my friends shouted a little encouragement, and I bounced back to get through the entire song. (They boo you off stage if you don't shape up. Way to build confidence, eh?) And I'll tell you something: it was pretty fucking fun.

I probably played another ten songs that night, and my inner rock god was having a hell of a time. I was punctuating notes with leg kicks, channeling a little Pete Townshend with my arm whirling around, and even inappropriately thrusting my pelvis with the guitar. I can't really explain it, but I was totally buying into the cheering crowd's enthusiasm, and hamming it up accordingly. Every few songs, Greg and I would poke our heads back into the main room where the rest of the party was taking place. Each time, we heard people loudly singing karaoke versions of Rent songs, so we quickly ducked back into the Wii room.

Here's what I realized: playing Guitar Hero has very little to do with actual guitar-playing skills. Instead, I just had to have good hand-eye coordination and know when to hit the denoted buttons on the guitar. I grew up playing a good deal of video games, so this was well within my skill set. And by doing those things with which I was already familiar, I ended up feeling something completely foreign: I was making music.

I made some joke to my friends about "French Horn Hero" not selling as well as its creators had hoped, and one of them told me about something new coming out. It was called Rock Band, and it was very similar to Guitar Hero, but it came with a guitar, a drum set, and a microphone. "No fucking way!" I said, clearly more excited than anyone expected that news to make me. I've always liked the drums, and the thought of drumming along to some kick-ass rock songs sounded far cooler than anything I'd done for a long time. Yes, I realize I'm 30 and talking about a video game.

A couple of months passed, and I saw someone drumming along to a display version of Rock Band in Best Buy. Yep, it was as cool as I thought. I asked my lovely wife, "I'm too old to buy that for myself, right?" "Yeah, probably," she said. Damn. If she had said either, "Not really" or "Maybe not," I might've run to the store right then. Instead, a little time passed and my desire waned. Then, something happened and changed that a little. We went up to visit Dusty and Mills, who had recently purchased Guitar Hero. I mentioned Rock Band, and Dusty said that he was going to get it the minute they came out with it for Wii (I have an XBox 360, for which the game already existed). Dusty's 31, by the way. While that changed my perception a little (i.e. I wasn't going to be laughed at by my friends), the bigger deal was when my lovely wife picked up the guitar and started rocking out to a song. I was struck by a vision: my beloved playing a song on guitar, and me banging away on the drums right next to her. We could be a band!

I looked at the included song list online, and I mentally salivated at the thought of playing along with Nirvana, Weezer, Foo Fighters, and even a Bon Jovi song. I had a little willpower left in me, but then the price went down $30 or $40. The final straw happened when I realized that my lovely wife was going to be out of town from Wednesday morning until Saturday (tomorrow) night. I would be able to play with the Hallie pup for a good amount of time, but it sure would be cool to be playing the drums, guitar, and singing that whole time. So we got it last Saturday. By the end of the day, I think we already got our money's worth. We played a bunch of songs together and had some genuine fun. We know we probably looked dorky, but we were having a good time. My goal is to get through all of the songs on the easy level by the time she returns. That way, all of the songs will be "unlocked," and we'll be able to play whatever we want from the entire catalog. Are we too old for this? Most likely, but I'm also too old to laugh at the word "duty" every single time, and that's not going away any time soon. (By the way, when I texted Dusty that I bought Rock Band, he wrote back "So jealous.")

I'm still too nervous to do much of the singing, especially since I tried it out twice. Not good, friends, not good. However, I'm encouraged enough by another cool feature that I may give it another go. In certain parts of songs in which there aren't any words, the vocalist can hit the mic against his or her hand to use as a tambourine. They thought of everything!

There are two big upsides to having this game. One, as I already mentioned, is being able to do something different and fun with my wife from time to time. We started dating a dozen years ago, and until this past week, we'd never played musical instruments together (real or fake). Two, unlike the guitar part of the game, the drums actually would prepare me to know what to do with a real drum set. Therefore, I'm actually kind of learning how to play a musical instrument for the first time in my life. That's an exciting new trick for this old Dawg.

I just re-read everything I've written up to this point, and I acknowledge that some of this might seem a little pathetic for someone who's supposed to be a grown up. I tell ya though, it's pretty damn fun. If you enjoy music on any level, I have to believe that there's a part of you that thinks this sounds cool. And you're right. I think it just might be the coolest video game of all time. There, I said it.

One quick side story for you that has nothing at all to do with Rock Band: My lovely wife and I went to vote on Super Tuesday, and we got to the polling place a few minutes before they opened at 7am. There were a few others waiting, and about four or five volunteers. The leader of the group (and I know he was the leader because he kept touting his election experience) told us that we unfortunately had to wait until 7 and he couldn't let us vote earlier. "Yeah, we wouldn't want to be extra enfranchised," I said. Amber started to nod in approval of my pun, but two others felt the need to correct me. "Disenfranchised, you mean. Yeah, we wouldn't want that." I let it go, but it bothered me that instead of getting my joke, they thought I was an idiot. It wasn't worth the effort in explaining myself, especially since that would've just made the joke considerably less funny. Still, I thought it was worth sharing with you all.

And with that, it is now time for us to gather our belongings, check the seat pockets in front of us, and head on down to the Car Watch.

I saw a hybrid on the 405 yesterday with a license plate that read, "NRG + GAS." How true, how true. I think it may have been the first time I'd seen the plus sign on a plate not being used for two sets of initials of people who love each other. Or add up to something.

Also yesterday, I saw a car with two of the same stickers on its bumper. "Proud Parent of a Student with Perfect Attendance," they each told me. I have a couple of thoughts on this, as you might imagine. First, I wonder if it's the same kid who has had perfect attendance twice or two kids who each had perfect attendance once. If it's the former, then that truly is a parent who is proud of that accomplishment. Second, aren't we setting the bar a little low here? To me, that sticker is saying, "My kid may not be the smartest one in the group, but damn, her immune system is strong! I mean, seriously, do you know how many germs she comes in contact with on a daily basis? Yet, through all of that, not one missed day due to sickness all fucking year! Not only that, she didn't miss a day due to injury either. She's active, you know. We saw this coming, so we made sure not to take any vacations during the year either. Had to keep the streak alive." Do I read too much into these things? Nah.

My loving mother-in-law saw a plate that told us to "OPN WHYD." It's gotta be a dentist, right? Anything else I think of would make this not a family-friendly blog. Here's why I like this one. It appears that "OPN WIDE" and other variations were taken. Instead of choosing something that didn't get the point across well enough (like "OPEN WID"), s/he found a homophone to help out. Not only that, the H makes me say the word in a way that actually opens my mouth wider. How's that for unintentional cleverness on their part?

My pops saw "OYVEY LA" on a plate. Presumably, he was sitting in traffic, since that's the unofficial pastime of this lovely city. I feel that person's pain, with as much Yiddish angst as I can muster. Muster, that's a weird word. I hate it in the past tense. Yucky.

Lastly, my homey Rockabye saw a plate that said, "JEDI 2BE." Somewhere in Vegas, a bookie is laying 4 to1 odds that that guy still lives with his parents. I'd take that bet.

Ok, people, I'm outa here. Have a good rest of your day, weekend, and week. If you are celebrating Valentine's Day, have a lovely one. Oh, I just looked at today's date again. I love it, it sounds like someone getting interrupted while attempting to make a toast. "To...oh wait! Oh wait!" What, don't look at me like that. See you next week, everyone.

The fury and the sound

Good morning, and Happy February to one and all. I think it's strange that my desk calendar has no problem telling me when Administrative Professionals Day is, but they don't tell me that tomorrow is Groundhog Day. What gives? I have to know when United Nations Day and Canada's Civic Holiday are, but Punxsutawney Phil gets left out in the cold? I've seen my calendar's shadow, and it sucks.

The movie named after (and starring) that holiday has some fantastically quotable lines, by the way. The one that I say most often is Andie MacDowell's, "I bought you, I own you" from the last few minutes. I actually said that to my dog a few weeks ago, and I was delighted by the veracity of the statement. (Technically, we "donated" the fee to the shelter, but money exchanged hands, so I consider it a purchase of sorts still.) Oh sure, there are glaring plot holes in the movie - like that party/bachelor auction that only happened on that final incarnation of the day for some reason - but it's an enjoyable movie that I've seen way too many times. Not for a little while though, so I'll have to do something about that.

Today's post is not about what lines I like of what movies, however. I had a conversation with my favorite brother recently, and it led to some comments just meaty enough to warrant a post, I believe. We were talking about people with poor grammar and spelling, and he said this: "Oh, and I hate when people say 'acrosst' for some reason instead of just 'across.'" "I hate that too, and I hear it way more often than I should - from a lot of intelligent people too."

Before I get too far into this, please allow me to remind you that I am far from infallible in the world of grammar and proper usage. As I've said in this space before, I boldly split infinitives, end sentences with prepositions, use "I" instead of "me" when it's not the subject, use "they" instead of "he or she" often because it's less cumbersome, and write "Guess what?" even though it's a command and not a question. However, when I know something is wrong, hearing or seeing other people use it bothers me to a greater extent than it should. It angers me, and I don't think I can do anything about that fact. Grrrr. See? That's me being angry.

And so it was, in that conversation with my brother, than I continued talking about things that people say erroneously. I came up with three others off the top of my head that seemed to fit in the same category as "acrosst." That category which I've created is for things that intelligent people say incorrectly for no reason whatsoever. So let me be clear, gentle readers: if you say any of these next three things that I'm going to write, I do not think you're dumb. It's just that you've probably heard these things said and never stopped to wonder if they were correct or not. (I never thought twice about writing "Guess what?" until my friend Dusty texted me asking if it pissed me off when people did that.)

"The people who say 'acrosst' are the same people who say 'heighth' probably," I told him. "Huh?" "Instead of just 'height,' they put an H at the end so it sounds similar to length and width." He was quiet for a second, trying to figure out if he was one of the people of which I spake. He concluded that it may have slipped out from time to time. I told him that was ok, and that he wasn't alone. I can say with 100% certainty that I have never used that, but I may have accidentally typed it at some point since my fingers do weird things on their own (like typing Amberica instead of America).

"Oh, and you know what else those people say? 'Incidences.'" "What's wrong with that one?" "I know, I was guilty of this one at some point too." I went on to explain that an event is an incident. The plural is incidents. Incidence, while sounding extremely similar, is the "rate of occurrence or influence," such as "a high incidence of crime." Thank you yet again, Merriam Webster. So when people say that something happened on "several incidences," they're just wrong. Still sound right to you? That's probably because "instance" and "instances" are right and have a similar sound. Confused? Well, just try to remember that "incidents" is probably what you mean if you hear yourself accidentally saying "incidences."

Lastly in this category, I come to one that I definitely said incorrectly throughout the majority of my high school career. Once again, it was Dusty who pointed out the error of my ways. If a teacher or office wanted to see a student who was currently in a class, they (he or she?) would issue a yellow piece of paper called a summons. We all got very used to that noun, so much so that we turned it into a verb when there was a perfectly good verb waiting there already. "He summonsed me during fourth period," I'd say. "No, he summoned you," Dusty would reply. "He chose to summon you with a summons." I saw his point, and the verb is actually "to summon." Isn't language just grand?

So, my friends, how many of you say how many of those things? Don't be shy; English is freaky and it would be even weirder if you always spoke completely correctly.

Knowing that I find things about words of great interest, my loving mother-in-law sent me some fun facts to look over. One that I had heard before but appreciated greatly was this: "If you were to spell out numbers, how far would you have to go until you would find that letter A?" The answer (which I guessed correctly upon first hearing this and thinking about it for a bit) is "one thousand." I find that to be pretty cool.

Switching topics now, we have the Superbowel game coming up this weekend. If they're gonna be sticklers with their copyright of putting "bowl" and "super" together, I'm going to liken it to a massive shit and still get my point across just fine. In any case, I saw former player Howie Long on t.v. talking about the Superbowel. At one point, he said that something was "the white elephant in the room." Really? There's a gag gift in the room? I thought that was a great combination of phrases and worthy of a mention.

Here's something that I was going to save for another post, but it's bothering me enough that I wish to mention it now instead. While flipping around out of boredom on the tube, my lovely wife and I came acrosst (just kidding) a celebrity dating show called "Rock of Love" starring former Poison frontman Bret Michaels. Oops, my bad, it was "Rock of Love 2." And that is what gets my goat, people. I have heard of three (count them, three) dating shows now that are sequels to the original. Please allow me to clarify: I don't mean like another season of "The Bachelor" in which they find another shockingly-single dude and surround him with shockingly-single chicks to find true love. No, I'm talking about the shows like "Rock of Love 2," "I Love New York 2," and the newly announced "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequlia 2." These are programs that have already happened with the same protagonist and presumably already terminated with the formation of a happy couple.

By having sequels, they are sending two loud and clear signals. One, we clearly failed our "main objective" of finding true love for this person. Two, this is all bullshit and more for entertainment value than anything we purport it to be about. Now that I have seen about two minutes of one of these shows, I know what I missed the first time around, and I sure as hell know what I'll be intentionally missing going forward. The WGA strike needs to end soon, because if they can't even come up with enough original reality crap to keep something on the airwaves, then our television future is looking even bleaker than I imagined.

Here's a random thought I had recently: does anyone get "on the schneid?" (I've never spelled that word before, so I'm using my Jewish heritage to guess to the best of my ability.) Are we all born on thousands of unique schneids, just waiting to get off of them? Or do the individual schneids come along with the beginning of new things? Sorry, I know those are heavy philosophical questions, but they're ones I feel are begging to be asked.

Ok folks, it's time to get the Car Watch party started.

My dad saw a plate and sent me a text message about it. "GRLYBOI," it read. To me, there are only three reasonable explanations for this. One, the young man is gay and proud to announce that to the world. Two, it's an odd nickname that has stuck throughout the years. Or three, someone's fucking with him. I'm gonna go with door number one, although my dad didn't report whether there was an accompanying rainbow sticker or not. (I can't help but mention the incredible difference in public perception between a young girl who enjoys more typically-male activities and a young boy who enjoys more typically-female activities. For the girl, it's cute and she's a tomboy. For a boy, well, there really aren't any cute or nice-sounding names for that situation. I guess that's where GRLYBOI comes into play.)

I'm not the best with identifying makes and models of cars, but I'm pretty sure it was a red Camaro that passed me with a plate reading, "AN EZ A." Maybe I jump to conclusions, but that sounds a lot like a professor who is willing to change someone's grade for a little dough on the side. Seriously, what else could that be? Did someone's dad promise him or her a new car for a 4.0 semester? That's all I've got. Comment away if you think it's anything else.

I also saw a license plate frame that read on the top, "Have you seen our..." I took a second to ponder what the bottom might be, but I came up blank. After a second, I gave up and looked: "Dad's new car?" I don't know, have I? If that's it, then yes. More importantly, you know I have because how else would I be reading that? If that's not his car, then how the hell do I know if I've seen it or not? Is there something easily identifiable about said car that would cause me to remember having glanced upon it? Here's one for you: Have you seen my...middle finger?

My homey Rockabye saw either a sticker or a frame that caught me off guard: "My other car is my feet." At first this angered me and I was all set to launch into a rant about how that's technically impossible. But then I thought more about it and realized that this person might actually be making fun of everyone else's sticker by saying, "I only have one car. If it breaks, I'm shit out of luck and walking to work. So suck it." If that's the reason behind it, then I applaud instead of curse.

Lastly, my Bratty Kid Sister called to tell me about a special American flag license plate that said, "ME 4 GOD" on it. My first response was that it seemed very egotistical to me. Like, "Wow, I really want to get something good for God this year, but I'm out of ideas. Oh, I know: Me, baby, me." BKS said that to her, it looked like the person was campaigning. "Vote for me in the next election for God," if you will. I think that's awesome. Aim high, right? Good eye, fake sis.

And that is all for me, my friends. Happy Birthday tomorrow to my friend Kareem, and I hope you all have a wonderful weekend and week until we meet up here again. As always, please write to ptklein@gmail.com with anything at all. Shaloha, and good luck seeing your shadows.