Hung up to dry

Ah, 'tis June, and what a glorious time of year. It's a chance for people to get together, have fun in the great outdoors, and use "dads and grads" roughly a bajillion times. Can't beat it! I have some thoughts and stories for you folks, so lean back in your desk chairs and settle in.

Last weekend, my lovely wife and I went to our friends' couples baby shower. It was very nice, and the parents-to-be were clearly happy and excited for that next chapter of their lives to start. Now I'm no savvy veteran of the baby shower, so I wasn't sure what to expect in the way of games. I'm a born game-player though, so I wanted to win whatever we'd be doing. I won at our friend Lisa's shower when they had a word search and at our friend Kim's with some fill-in-the-blank nursery rhyme thing. I bring my A game. So when one of the future grandparents put a clothespin on each of us and told us we couldn't say "baby," I nodded like a boxer being asked if he's ready to touch gloves and come out swinging. Immediately, I turned to one friend, and in hushed tones asked, "Wait, what word aren't we allowed to say?" "Baby," she said, and her clothespin was snapped off her shirt and onto mine before she finished the word. Yeah, I'm that guy.

I'm also a moron though. It was about two minutes later that I, for no reason whatsoever, described a picture of a little flower with a face as "a baby flower." My sweet and benevolent wife yanked my clothespins off and smiled gleefully. Over the course of the next hour, I worked my way up to (ready for this?) nine clothespins. I was masterful, starting conversations and molding them as I slowly led people to the sentences I wanted to say. Our friend Scott wasn't even sure how it came up, but I got him to say "babysitting." I got Candice to mention "...when we have babies down the road." It was all working perfectly. (I admit that I wasn't super smooth though. One friend refused to talk to me at all, because he knew that I was only starting conversations with him in order to steal his lone clothespin.)

Every time someone pointed out to me how many pins I had, I told them in no uncertain terms that I wasn't going to win the game. I just knew that I would slip up at some point, even if it was something as ridiculous as singing a song out loud to myself that happened to have the word "baby" in it. Naturally, that almost happened a few times, but I was able to close my mouth before the offending word escaped.

We started another game in which we had to prove how well we knew the future mom and dad. As that went on, we were also supposed to pass baby food jars around and guess what flavors they were just by looking at them. I chose to abstain from that game. Not because I'm better than it or anything like that; I just wanted to minimize the chances of me accidentally saying "baby." We got through the trivia game and were going through the answers (I did horribly), and I heard a young lady and her mother to my left debating what flavor was in one of the tiny jars. It was a slightly-unnatural looking orangish-red color, and I joked that "it must be chicken tikka masala flavored." I know that's not the highest of high comedy, but I expected some laughs from that comment. One friend chuckled and said, "That's funny." With that approval, I wanted to share the joke with others. "Hey hon," I said, "Don't you think that babyfoo-" "OHHHHH!" was the shout that interrupted my joke. Before I could even fully hang my head in shame, our friend Stefanie was yanking the nine clothespins off my shirt.

In hindsight, it was almost a classic Shakespearean tragedy. A small-time player works his way up the ladder by scheming and tricking those who thought his intentions were pure. Then, when the endgame is almost in reach, his own inflated pride clouds his judgment and everything he's worked for topples in front of him. And Stefanie gets the Starbucks gift card.

I have a few disjointed thoughts that I'd like to share. First off, an online dictionary told me that "couple" can mean "an indefinite small number: few." I can't even begin to explain how much that pisses me off. Sure, that's the fourth definition and all three preceding ones talk specifically about the undeniable twoness of "couple," but there's no excuse for that. When someone is holding three...anythings in his hand, he should not be allowed to say, "I got a couple of these here anythings." According to the pros at m-w.com, I could use Definition 1 to point to two people and say, "Look at that couple." But by Definition 4's criteria, I could point to three or four people and say, "A couple of people are over there" without being incorrect. "An indefinite small number?" Oh it's definite alright, and the number is 2.

I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that this is more the fault of everyday people than the dictionary's. Linguists' chief concern is usage, and if people have been using "a couple" as other small numbers besides two, then they eventually have to reflect that. Hold on, 1 is a small number. Are they saying that a couple could be one by that definition? I think my head might explode if I don't start a new paragraph immediately.

Let's talk about breakfast cereal instead. Ah, much better. My lovely wife and I were eating Special K (the Red Berries sequel), and I looked at the ingredients. I've grown accustomed to the fact that I may ingest something with the word "germ" in it, but I still think wheat germ is a horrible name of something edible. So what did I see on the box? "Defatted wheat germ." Yep, that makes it totally better. Mmm.

And lastly before the Car Watch section, I went to the dentist this week. I want to go on record and say that I think it's a bad idea to make the tooth polish blood-colored. The momentary panic I felt when I rinsed and saw what appeared to be a bloody, pulpy mess could've easily been avoided. And then you would've been spared that description too. Ya see, we'd all win.

Ok, now it's time for the segment that's vacuuming the nation (sweeping is so 20th century), Car Watch!

First off, I saw a license plate that read, "(Heart) DOGKDZ." To me, that means one of three things. It could be someone who loves their dog and their kids in that order, which is an odd sense of priorities. Other than that, I see it as someone who loves his dogs who are treated like kids, or less fortunately, loves his kids who are treated like dogs. Only one of those makes the person not a creep, so I'm holding out for that one.

My loving mother-in-law saw both "IM L8" and "HAFHRL8," and wrote that since I'm such a hyperpunctual person, I'd never have those plates. Instead, she said, I could have either "NVR L8" or "2EARLY." While she's 100% correct, I feel like getting a plate like that would be taunting the traffic gods to consistently throw the plate's message in my face. "Oh yeah," they'd say, "if you're never late, then what do you call going 0 mph for 45 minutes? Sucka!"

Lastly, my homey Rockabye saw this bumper sticker: "If it ain't Dutch, it ain't much." I can understand that sentiment making sense in the following situations: Discussing paintings as the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, discussing what type of boy would make the best name for a brand of paint, and discussing which jump rope techniques are superior. What's next? "If it ain't Korean, it ain't for seein'?" "If it ain't Persian, it's a lesser version?" "If it ain't Tunisian, there's no cohesion?" "If it ain't Chilean...you know what I'm sayin'?" These are fun! Chime in, gentle readers.

Alrighty then, I'm out of here. If you think of anything that you'd like to share with me for future posts (or just for shits and/or giggles), ptklein@gmail.com is there for you. Have a fantastic weekend and week, mis amiguitos, and know that your friendly neighborhood Peter will be out there fighting the good fight for you. And by "good fight," I mean "not using 'a couple' for one, three, or other numbers besides two." Damn that irks me. Shaloha.