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Welcome, homepeople, and thank you for joining me for yet another installment of UOPTA. I hope your Aprils are going well so far, and that this Friday is good and/or Good for you. I was planning on filling this space today with a bunch of smaller items, but my first "smaller" one took on a life of its own and became the whole post. I hope you enjoy.

My lovely wife and I get the L.A. Times delivered to our house. It's been more complicated than I expected. Starting back when we lived in Santa Barbara, we've just wanted the paper on weekends. Saturday and Sunday and nothing more. I thought that was all settled, but we started getting calls practically begging us to get the entire week instead. They started with the assumptive tactic: "So I'm calling to let you know that starting tomorrow, you'll be getting the paper every day for no extra cost." I always told them the same thing: "We don't have time to read the paper on weekdays, and it would be wasteful for us to get it. We only want Saturday and Sunday." "I understand sir, but this is at the same rate you're currently receiving." "That's very generous of you, but no, we don't want it," I'd tell them.

After a while of this, I got more forceful in my denials. "Someone called yesterday with the same offer, and I'll tell you the same thing. We don't want it, we aren't changing our minds, and please take me off this list immediately." And you know what? That actually worked...for another year or two. Shortly after we moved into our house in the valley, I got another call from the L.A. Times. This time, the pitch was a little different. For less than I was currently paying, I could get the "extended weekend" plan (or some other nonsensical term) of Thursday through Sunday. Better yet, I said that I'd only agree to it if they'd promise me to take me off all outbound call lists. The guy agreed, and somehow he had that power.

Everything was ok for a little while, until the Sunday paper started arriving later and later. I don't want to sound too much like a crusty old man, but on Sundays, I like to sit with the crossword puzzle and my coffee while I pet my dog and wait for my lovely wife to get up. It's comforting, and the puzzle kick-starts my brain in a way that caffeine alone doesn't. So I called, and after a few weeks of persistent complaints, it started arriving at 7am (like it had before the lapse) instead of closer to 10 or 11. All was well in the world of Peter and the paper. (By the way, you can't spell "persistent" or "the paper" without Peter.)

During this span of a few years, the L.A. Times made one change that bothered me. Originally, every Sunday paper had the crossword puzzle in the Calendar section and another one in their special magazine section. The Calendar one moved to a new Arts & Music section, and the magazine one hopped around. At first, it was moved to the Calendar section of Saturday's paper, which was confusing but ok. Then it was gone completely. A little bit later, and the magazine was back (as the hip "L.A. Magazine), but only once a month. I got used to that, even though I was unhappy (since I like that puzzle-maker's work a little more). Every four Sundays, it was like a bonus, and it made me value my two-puzzle Sundays even more than I had before.

All of that brings me to last Sunday, April 5th, 2009. I got our paper at approximately 7:01am. As the coffee percolated (which also can't be spelled without Peter), I extracted the Arts & Music section from the throng of advertisements. I flipped through the rest, but didn't see L.A. Magazine anywhere. I told myself that even though it felt like it had been a month, I must be mistaken. A couple of hours later, my mom called to say hi. "Did you finish both puzzles already?" she asked. "Both? I looked and only had the one!" I said, in what might be construed as a whine. "Well call them," she said. "Oh, you betcha," I said.

I first went back to the paper to make sure I hadn't missed the magazine. I hadn't. So I picked up the phone and dialed the customer service line. After a few tiers of the automated system, I got a real person. Here's how that went down:

CS Agent: (standard intro)

Me: Hi, I got my paper this morning, but it was missing the L.A. Magazine. I don't need a whole new paper, so I wanted to see if I could get just the magazine delivered.

CS Agent: Ok, hold on hold on.

Me: No problem.

(five seconds pass)

CS Agent: Hold on hold on.

Me: I am.

CS Agent: Ok, hold on.

Me: (getting frustrated now) I am holding on. You don't need to keep saying that.

CS Agent: Ok sir. Due to market research and new strategies, certain zip codes will not be receiving L.A. Magazine.

Me: What? Why?

CS Agent: Ok sir. Due to market research and new strategies, certain zip codes will not be receiving L.A. Magazine.

Me: I heard you, but I don't understand. My parents live a couple miles from here and they got it. I want to find out how I can still receive this magazine.

CS Agent: Well sir, due to market-

Me: I'm sorry to cut you off, but I heard you and now I'm trying to figure out how to fix this.

CS Agent: I'm sorry sir, but your zip code does not receive the magazine.

Me: Is there a supervisor I can speak to?

CS Agent: Yes sir, I will transfer you to a specialist.

(beeps and rings)

Agent 2: (same standard intro)

Me: Hi, I was just speaking with someone and asked to be transferred to a specialist.

Agent 2: Did you get the name of the person you spoke with?

Me: No, I didn't.

Agent 2: Well I'm a specialist. How can I assist you?

Me: (a little dubious) Ok, I was trying to get L.A. Magazine delivered to my house and the agent said that wasn't possible.

Agent 2: Due to market research and new strategies, certain zip codes will not be receiving L.A. Magazine.

Me: (now getting testy) Yeah, I got that. My question is whether or not there is any way for me to change that so I get the section I want and have gotten for months?

Agent 2: Well sir, I could tell you the closest zip code to you that still receives the magazine.

Me: (with a glimmer of hope) And I could get that version of the paper?

Agent 2: No, you could go buy it there.

Me: (completely fed up now) Oh that's nice. So since I'm on the wrong side of some arbitrary line, I'm not getting the magazine and won't for the foreseeable future, right?

Agent 2: Correct sir. Is there anything else I can help you with?

Me: (biting my tongue from pointing out the lack of help up to this point) No, I think that's it.

All together now, everyone: "That's bullshit!"

I called my parents to report this retardiculous development, and they were as appalled as I was. My mom said that she'd make photocopies of those puzzles every month going forward so that I wasn't left out. Fortunately, my loving mother-in-law also lives in a privileged enough area to receive the vaunted magazine, and she gave me the clean version of the puzzle my mom had already completed. So I guess that's how it's gonna be until a new market research study says that our zip code is suddenly worthy of glossy paper again. Once a month, I'll get the magazine puzzle from one of our parents and just do the Arts & Music one on Sunday mornings. There are worse things, I know, but man that pissed me off.

Two updates before I finish this section: First, my loving wife said to me yesterday morning, "I think I want to switch to getting the paper on just Sundays." Wish me luck, folks. I'm anticipating a couple of calls on Thursdays and me uttering, "No, it's supposed to only be on Sundays now. And no, I don't want to switch to the whole week for free." Second, it appears that this coveted L.A. Magazine is available to anyone who can click a couple of links from the L.A. Times homepage. And get this: they never once asked for my zip code. Bastards.

Ok, enough complaining. Let's take our ink-stained fingers on down to the Car Watch.

First off, my Bratty Kid Sister sent me this link about a Car Watch worthy story: http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/us/2009/04/09/dnt.co.tofu.KDVR. To summarize, a very hippy/crunchy/earthy vegan woman in Colorado wanted to have, "I love tofu" on her plate to match her other pro-herbivore car paraphernalia. So she requested, "ILVTOFU," which was originally granted. Then the powers that be realized that it also looked like, "I love to F you," and they took it back. She's unhappy about this, naturally, but I'm thoroughly pleased since it wouldn't have made the news otherwise.

My friend Dusty saw this bumper sticker: "When in doubt, empty the magazine." Wow, that just might be the worst advice I've ever heard in my life. Seriously now, if reckless advice were a sport, that sticker would be its Tiger Woods. I'm struggling to come up with something worse. My first thought was, "When in doubt, don't use a condom," but that doesn't quite equal the destruction of spraying bullets everywhere. "When in doubt, launch the missiles," one-ups it, I suppose. Yay! (So maybe that sticker was the Vijay Singh of reckless advice.)

Lastly, my homey Rockabye sent me a license plate that read, "MYTGEEK." Tell me, friends, what mental picture does that bring up for you? I definitely see a scrawny, pasty white dude in a homemade green spandex suit and a little eye-mask thing a la Robin (of Batman and Robin fame). What I can't decide on though is the insignia on his chest. Is it a calculator? A graduated cylinder? A Bunsen burner? A fully-stocked pocket protector? A protractor? Pi? Thick-framed glasses with tape supporting the joints? I'd really like to know what icon you think would best represent the Mighty Geek. Comment away, homepeople.

That's it for me. Happy Easter on Sunday to all who celebrate it. That day is also our friends Lisa and Paul's anniversary, so happy #6 to them. Half-birthday to Alissa on Monday, and happy half-anniversary to Dave and Twilight on Wednesday. Overall, I'd say that's lots of happiness. That's how I roll. Have a great weekend and week, mis amiguitos, and I'll see you back here next Friday. As always, you can email me at ptklein@gmail.com.