Unoriginal flavor

Hello and good morning, homepeople from across the globe. My name is Peter, and I feel like sharing some thoughts and observations today. By a show of hands, how many of you are simultaneously up for and down with that? Great, I knew I could count on you. (I didn't intend for any double meaning with "count" there, but I'll take it.) Before I launch into some unconnected crap, I'd like to direct my critical eye toward myself.

Hopefully I don't sound too vain here, but I think I'm a pretty creative guy. By the most basic definition, I enjoy creating things with my mind that are different or a new slant on something that already exists. Beyond that, whether it's coming up with new nicknames for people or making a mobile of me making funny faces for my favorite nephew, I'd say that being creative is a central part of who I am. Here's my question: Then why have I been so incredibly uncreative in certain respects?

I thought of this one morning during the past week while getting ready for work. Our adorable dog Hallie was lying on the floor near my feet, and she went into a strange position we see frequently in which she rubs the side of her head against the ground. What do I call that move? "Side head." Sure, I turn it into a song often, but that's the name I brilliantly came up with. I thought about that for a second and wondered if there were other things in my life with which I was similarly uncreative. I found one big category: stuffed animals.

As a little kid, I can only imagine that my parents looked at me and thought, "Wow, he's utterly unoriginal." If they did, I can't blame them one bit. I had a doll of a baby that I slept with every night. The doll's name was Baby, of course. She was later involved in the most traumatic event of my youth, a scenario involving her being dropped in the toilet and my mom giving her a haircut. It was a harrowing event, let me assure you. Now that I give it a little more thought, I believe Baby first belonged to my favorite brother and maybe even to someone else first. Therefore, I may be off the hook with that wholly unimaginative name.

The same can't be said for this next one though; it's all me. We took a family trip to Las Vegas when I was a wee tot, and we played some carnival games at Circus Circus. (By the way, Circus Circus is a weird name for a hotel/casino. I understand that they want to make the circus theme their distinguishing characteristic from their competition, but just saying the word twice doesn't seem like the best way to go about that to me. I mean, if you were to build a casino in the style of New York, would you...crap. Nevermind.) I don't remember which carnival game it was, but I either hit the right thing with a ball or something and was awarded a stuffed animal dog that was all rainbow colored. Being the in-the-box thinker that I was back then, I settled on "Rainbow Doggie" as the rainbow dog's name. What the hell? Come on, young Peter, use your f'n noggin!

A year or two passed, and another great moment in Peter Klein's Unimagination came. My Grandma Mu bought me a stuffed animal that we saw in a store and I wanted. It was another dog, proving that my love of canines has always been there. This particular line of stuffed animals was called Wrinkles, and I guess they were supposed to look like shar-peis. Each one was also a puppet, and if you violated the animal with your hand and forearm, you could make the mouth move like it was talking. Naturally, I named mine...Wrinkles. I took the frickin' brand name! What's wrong with me? Thank god my Cabbage Patch Kid came with a name, or else I would've been playing with Cabbage Patch instead of Troy Norton.

I eventually snapped out of this funk, and later named two Pound Puppy animals Nip and Tuck. That's pretty advanced for a 19 year-old, eh? (More dog stuffed animals? Wow, it's all so clear now.) For the first time, I'm now realizing the marketing brilliance of Pound Puppies. There's an inherent message in their name that tells kids, "If you don't make your parents buy you these stuffed animals, there's a good chance that they'll be put to sleep. At best, they'll be locked in a cage all day for the rest of their lives. You don't want that on your conscience, do ya? Well do ya, kid? Buy now!"

As an adult, I'm comfortable with the way I name things. I give them considerable thought, try to find a new angle or double meaning, and attempt to make all of that catchy. Often I succeed, and when I fail, it's usually so gloriously bad that it's memorable in its own right. I'm not sure if that makes up for my super boring naming skills as a tot, but I'll keep on atoning just in case.

One quick unrelated thought before I move onto the Car Watch section: I purchased a bag of Kettle Chips to go with a sandwich earlier in the week. The flavor I bought was called "Sea Salt and Vinegar," and if I haven't described my feelings toward salt and vinegar chips here before, it can be summed up as such: I hated it, tried it again, found it decent, tried it again, and now enjoy the flavor. You might ask, "Why did you try it again if you hated it the first time?" I don't have a good answer to that. I must've felt especially generous or forgiving or something. Anyway, I ate the majority of these chips and enjoyed them. On the back of the bag, I noticed something though. It said, "Dipped in the sea and brushed with vinegar." I guess they want to sound more gourmet than just saying they added salt and vinegar to their normal potato chips, but I really don't like that description. I've been in the sea, and I know how many other people have been in there as well. I don't want to eat something that's been dipped in there. Can't you get sea salt another way? Go ahead, take saltwater, do some drying-out process, and then use the salt, but please don't dip the chips in the sea. That's just nasty.

And now, back by somewhat popular demand, it's time for Car Watch. Settle in folks, because we've got three doozies ahead of us. (Editor's note: By "doozies," Peter really just means "items." Please adjust expectations accordingly.)

I was in a parking lot while my lovely wife was picking up some take-out food, and I saw a plate that read, "LUVPINK." The car was silver. If the only thing I know about you is that you like a particular color, why not drive that point home? I didn't see the driver, but s/he'd better have been wearing pink or I call shenanigans on the whole thing. Well, not shenanigans per se because they don't come out ahead by lying about this. It's really closer to "bullshit" than shenanigans. Or idiocy. Yeah, definitely one of those two.

My homey Rockabye saw a plate that proudly proclaimed, "(Heart) THMBLS." Seriously, who gets that for a license plate? The way I see it, it's not just someone who sews an awful lot. Oh no, those people love thread, weaving, and all sorts of terminology I don't know. Take one of those avid sewers (sewers? Like where sewage flows? That's weird) and make him or her very poor with the needle. His or her thumb got poked severely on a daily basis, almost ending a sewing hobby/career before it truly got started. And then one day, a close friend shared a secret that saved this person's livelihood...and maybe their life too. It was...the thimble! Sew away, my friend! Sew away, and never worry about inadvertent self-mutilation again! Let the thread flow through the streets with the kind of reckless abandon normally saved for much cooler activities. Sew, sew, SEW! (That's how I see it at least. I'm sure you all agree.)

Lastly, the same homey Rockabye saw a plate that said, "JNLENIN." Hmmm, what should I make of this one? Aloud, it seems to clearly allude to the most talented of the Beatles, in my arrogant opinion. However, license plates are certainly made to be seen and not heard. Therefore, the fact that it's not "Lennon" makes me wonder. Vladdy Daddy Lenin and his band of merry Bolsheviks spelled it that way, but then "John" wouldn't make any sense. Ah, but what if it's "Join Lenin" instead? What if this person is slyly using the Beatles to push a Communist doctrine on us? All you need is love? Nay, all you need is a government allotted amount of love that is shared equally amongst the members of society. We are all walruses, my friend, awaiting the day to be (you guessed it) Back in the USSR.

Or the driver just couldn't fit "Lennon."

Ok, that's it for me. We have a super crazy big week of events though, and I must share. The couple whom my friend Lisa and I set up, one co-worker Rob and one family friend Robin, are tying the knot this Sunday. Lisa and I will spend roughly 85% of the evening patting ourselves on the back. Tuesday is not only my friend Adam's birthday, but also the day that my favorite brother and sister-in-law will bring my favorite niece into the world. I'm so happy for them and can't wait to meet this newest Klein. There's nothing like a 0th birthday. 0th or 0st? Certainly not 0nd. Have a great and safe Memorial Day and long weekend, my friends, and I'll see you back here next Friday. As always, please email ptklein@gmail.com with anything at all.