Class systems

Hey look at that, it's a frickin' Monday again. There are worse things, I suppose. I mean, if suddenly there were no more Mondays, then it would only be a short matter of time before Tuesday inherited all of Monday's negative connotations. We humans are fickle that way.

A long, long time ago (also known as December, in UOPTA terms), I wrote about how I was often bored in high school. In order to make things a wee bit more interesting, my friends and I would resort to stupid little games. Often, these games were essentially harmless in nature, and I'll detail one of them right after this paragraph. Generally speaking, the little were for the sole amusement of a few people in the class to liven things up while the teacher repeated things for a third or fourth time. There were times that high school wasn't too challenging, and I have a feeling you're all nodding in agreement right now. Yes, even you. Ok, here goes:

My junior year of high school, a bunch of us were in Spanish 3 together. That level was the real make-or-break point in language, I think. It seemed like the first two years relied heavily on being able to regurgitate whatever was in the little yellow boxes in the textbooks while the following years required people to understand the language and its intricacies conceptually as well as simply memorizing them. The subjunctive mood was the biggest divider of them all, by the way. Therefore, about half the class was eating up the lessons, and the other half was overwhelmed but sticking it out for the college requirement. There was a very nice student in the class of Persian descent named Nazanin. On day one of the class, the teacher called her name for roll as "NAZZ-uh-neen." "It's NOZZ-uh-neen," she countered. I didn't make too much of this at the time.

A couple of weeks later, I was talking to two buddies of mine in the class named Mark and Ilya. Somehow I brought Nazanin up in the conversation and, at the same time, they both repeated, "NOZZ-uh-neen" with a heavy emphasis on the first syllable. They thought it was a funny interaction that she and the teacher had on the first day, and apparently they made eye contact in class with each other every time her name was said aloud.

Later that day in class, I was in the middle of doodling or something in class when I heard the teach call on Nazanin. It took a second to register, so I quickly popped my head up to look for Mark and Ilya. My eagerness to be involved in their game made them laugh a little. The next time her name was said, the both jokingly mocked my enthusiasm and excitedly popped up and looked around the classroom.

The days went by, and slowly a few more people started doing the same thing as us whenever Nazanin's name was said. I doubt they knew why, but we were clearly enjoying ourselves so they wanted in on the action. Someone would say "Nazanin," and five or six people would sit up straight and eagerly look around. The teacher, Ms. Hermosillo, noticed and pulled us aside after class to tell us to knock it off. We were all friendly with her, and she just didn't want Nazanin to feel like we were picking on her for any reason. The next day, the teacher called on Nazanin to answer a question. Immediately after, eight or nine students in the class coughed simultaneously (including your humble blogger, naturally). Ms. Hermosillo looked over at us and, trying to hold back a smile, said, "Come on guys, cut it out."

The next day, we were all sitting there in Spanish 3 again. The teacher asked a question, and Nazanin raised her hand. After the slightest hesitation, Ms. Hermosillo said, "Yes, Nazanin?" A dozen students ran their hands through their hair. The teacher just shook her head and laughed, basically telling us it was ok to continue doing that since it didn't cause a distraction. At least that's what we read into it.

Starting that next week until the end of the school year, here is how things would play out: Ms. Hermosillo would say "Nazanin," and then entire class (including Nazanin, by the way) would smile and run their hands through their hair. Occasionally the teacher would join in as well. It got to be so automatic for people that it became completely natural to see that classroom choreography a couple of times a day.

To this day, Jon, Dusty, Rockabye, Silver, me, and people who weren't even in the class (or at that school) will automatically start to raise their arms to their heads when Nazanin's name comes up. Usually it's in the context of, "Hey, remember Nazanin?" as a sort of reflex test. Good times, good times. In fact, just re-reading this made me have to consciously hold back from doing the action every time I read her name. Old (and silly) habits die hard, I guess.

Happy Monday, gentle readers. I hope you had a nice weekend, and I hope that you have little childish things that amuse you enough to make your day pass more quickly. I'm telling you, it's the only way to go.

FUF #17

This one goes out to the one I FUF.

If you couldn't tell, I was trying to recall REM's "The One I Love" there. With that real song, I usually make some joke about it being a song for an enamored Cyclops. My lovely wife then responds, "It's not 'one-eyed' love." I then feign surprise like that's what I thought it was all along. Alas, I guess there are no songs aimed right at Polyphemus or the rest of his lone-eyed clan.

Ready for loosely related stories, random shit, and Super Hydro Bionic Car Watch 12 Billion? What would a FUF be without those crucial components? Ok, it seems like ages ago, but I believe that it was just this past Monday that I wrote about facial hair and my different experiences with it. The end of each facial hair cycle always reminds me of a poem I once read by John Updike. With the amazing prowess of the internets, it was very easy to find for today's bit o' sharing:

"Upon Shaving Off One's Beard" by John Updike

The scissors cut the long-grown hair;

The razor scrapes the remnant fuzz.

Small-jawed, weak-chinned, big-eyed, I stare

At the forgotten boy I was.

I liked it when I first read it my junior year of college, and I like it now. Every single time I've shaved after a week or longer of putting it off, my eyes always look bigger and my chin weaker. That dude knew his shit.

A couple of days ago, I wrote about the word "regardless" and its untonym "irregardless." I received some comments and quasi backlash from that, with some folks pointing out that "irregardless" is not a word. As I mentioned before, the chief concern with a linguist is usage, and that has been used enough that it now appears in some dictionaries. Sure, the definition is quick to point out that it's not proper, but that is somewhat immaterial at this point. I bring this up to tell a brief story. I once had a coworker whose former roommate used to say "irregardless" all the time. It bugged him so much since it wasn't really a word that he started using "disirregardless" around the roommate to point out the stupidity. I think that's really funny. Do you? Well then, there's no need to be rude about it.

Random thought: How sad is it that I can't write "disgruntled" without thinking of "postal worker" right after? I'm not alone in this, right? That sucks for postal workers to have that adjective permanently ascribed to them.

My mother-in-law wrote to ptklein@gmail.com and lived to tell about it, so maybe you all should try that out to. In her email, she mentioned her intense dislike for certain phrases. Being particular with words myself, this seemed right in line with some FUFfing. Many or all of us are aware of the term "June Gloom" for the overcast weather that sometimes happens in this month. However, she told me that she has now heard people refer to both "May Gray" and "July Fry." I can't decide, are those stupid or idiotic? It's definitely one of the two.

I wrote this week about professor Frank McConnell at UCSB. My brother wrote in saying that he pictures Dr. House when reading about him, and that's not a bad image at all. However, he was more portly and older than Sr. Casa. I don't know how many of you will catch my Harry Potter reference, but Professor McConnell was much more Mad-Eye Moody than Dr. House. In fact, I pictured him with every scene before the first movie that his character was in. They did a good casting job, because it's not super far off.

I had a conversation with a woman over the phone this week that will be hard to write about, but bear with me. I knew her name was Sara or Sarah. When writing down her contact information, I asked, "With an H?" "Yes, but I answer to both," she replied. I paused, and then said, "That's very funny - I'll have to remember that one." An hour later, I told my boss, and he said, "That's not very funny, but it sounds like your sense of humor." I said, "It's EXACTLY my sense of humor." "But still not funny," he added.

I was talking to my increasingly-lovely wife yesterday while she was driving home. "Where are you now?" I asked. "I just turned on Louise," she said. I made some joke inquiring about what she did to turn on Louise. She thought I meant that she "turned on" Louise in the sense that she was no longer on her side. Then she realized that I had meant it sexually, and it changed the tone of the conversation a little. It was cool to see how the phrase "turned on" took three different meanings in a matter of seconds. I might just love this language after all.

Happy Fun-Time Car Watch 3.141592653589!

Rockabye saw a puzzling bumper sticker: Sugar Happens. Well, I suppose so. Is that what real goody-goodies say when things go bad? Do those same people stub their toes and yell, "Fiddelsticks!"?

Our homey Riley wrote in after seeing, "Don't Follow Me, I'm Lost." I've seen it before, and it really rings true with me. Despite a very good memory for useless shit, it seems that I'm missing the directional gene. If there's a caravan of any sort, you won't find me in the lead.

Sacky Christi wrote in to tell me about something she spied in traffic. There were two lovely ladies who Christi estimates were in their late 60s or early 70s. The license plate frame on their 90s model Caddie: "Bingo Players Do It Til They Blackout." It's rare for something to be simultaneously clever and a bit off-putting, but this accomplished that feat with ease. It certainly wasn't on-putting, I can tell you that.

Speaking of "that," that's all for this week, folks. I hope you have a wonderful weekend, and don't forget to write in with stuff about stuff for a FUF (or a whole post even).

Opposing views

"She was underwhelmed

If that's a word

I know it's not

'Cause I looked it up

That's one of those skills

That I learned in my school"

-"Underwhelmed" by Sloan

Good morning on this Thursday, gentle readers. That quote is the first line of a great song by one of my favorite bands in the world. The song has a bunch of other great lyrics, but that particular section speaks exactly to what I'm writing about today. I mentioned in yesterday's post that I had some more word stuff to write about, and voila, here it is.


It was right around the time that I bought that particular Sloan album that Dusty was in the market for a new car. I was over at his place while he was on the phone with a car dealer who was trying to talk him into the six-cylinder instead of the four. Dusty put him off a little, and then the man asked if he'd even driven a six, thinking that he hadn't but would love the difference in power. "Actually I have," said Dusty, "and honestly, I was a little underwhelmed by it." I looked up at him and smiled in the way that word-nerds do to each other, but he was in the middle of repeating himself to the man who clearly didn't understand what he had said.

I would say that the non-word "underwhelmed" has been used enough by now that it may qualify for actual word status. However, there are many similar 'words' out there that aren't used regularly or at all, and that is what I will try to tackle in this space today. Specifically, I'm talking about words that seem like they should have an obvious opposite word but don't. Before I launch into the small list I've come up with, I want to think of a name for this group. How does "untonyms" sound to you? Got any better suggestions? I'd seriously love to hear them, because that's all I've got so far.

Here is the quintessential example of what I'm talking about. If someone is neatly put together appearance-wise, we don't refer to him or her as "combobulated." Why is that? How did discombobulated start getting used without people knowing what it was defining itself as the opposite of? "Yes sir, I'm ready for the interview. I'm relaxed, confident, and completely combobulated."

Very similarly, I've never heard anyone be described as "shevled." "He strode into the office looking shevled as ever; his freshly-ironed pants and newly-trimmed goatee gave the impression of perfect structure and order." It's so rare in fact, that when I did a Google search for "shevled," it appears that the only time that word is on the internet is when someone mistyped "shelved." Unless turmoil causes certain music albums and movies to be neatly put together, that is.

Ok, let's move on to some more. Ever heard this one? "Man, after watching that movie, I feel steady, strong, and courageous. It was very nerving." I didn't think so. I'm telling you, there are many of these out there, but they never come to mind unless I'm actively listening to the words that are coming out of my mouth. That's not very often, I assure you. Ok, I have a few more, but I'm counting on my faithful (and gentle) readers to keep an ear out for more. "Hey Peter, how many people were at the party?" "24, which is exactly the number I assumed would come. I guess you could say there was an ordinate amount of people." Booyah Johnson! Totally nailed that one.

I'm not sure what to do with the word "disgruntled." If it were "ungruntled," I would have a jolly old time talking about how gruntled I am that the weather's so nice in San Diego right now. Since it's "dis" though, I don't find it quite so easy to manipulate. I guess "displeasure" is the opposite of "pleasure" and "disappear" is the opposite of "appear," so maybe my example works. It doesn't feel as right as the next one though.

"You know, as a white male in this society, certain things have come more easily to me. I guess that's what happens when you're enfranchised by the system." I know, I know, it's another "dis" prefix, but I like this one more. I can't explain it, but I guess there is an aspect of feel to this word game we're playing. You're playing too, right?

Hey, remember that nerving movie I wrote about? As it turns out, the life lessons I learned from it went in one ear and out the other very quickly. It's odd to have a movie leave such a delible mark on me. Hey-o! Score one more for the Klein.

I think I'm out of 'em. Here is my humble request (in two parts): Please let me know of any - ANY - words like these that come to mind. I'd love to have a growing list rattle off every time the topic arises. The second part involves the chief concern of any linguist: usage. I'd love to pick one of these and have all of us start using it in daily speech. Nominate away, friends, for one probably feels better to you than the others. As always, I appreciate the help. I also appreciate emails to ptklein@gmail.com with thoughts, questions, and Car Watch items for my FUF pieces. Some of you (ok, 2 or 3) write in fairly regularly, and it's that compassion and warmth that makes me smile every morning. What can I say, you've got a lot of ruth.

See you tomorrow, folks. Enjoy your Thursday, and I'll see you tomorrow.

The in crowd

Top of the mornin' to you all. Do you know what I like about Wednesdays? Oh sure, there's the obligatory "hump day" reference, but that's not what I'm going for right now. Yeah, I know it was a character in The Addams Family, but that's not it either. I appreciate your guesses though. I like that it's one of the few words in our language that I can think of that feels British to me. You know, like "Liecester Square" being pronounced "Lester Square." I know back east does that with things like "Worchester" being "Wooster," but they speak all funny without additional help. Quite similarly, "Worcestershire sauce" looses at least a syllable somewhere in there. Wednesday and its "Whensday"or "Whendsday" pronunciation stand out to me for that reason, and I often like things that stand out. Except that one curl on my head. Sit down, already!

Oh yeah, there's one more thing I enjoy about Wednesday. Occasionally, when the planets and stars align in that magical way they sometimes do, I post a Wacky Wordy Wednesday thingamajig. Not a doohicky or thingamabob, mind you; just a thingamajig. Today is one of those sweet, sweet Wednesdays. Buckle up.

Several times throughout my life, I have had the following conversation with someone:

Me: Well, you know that 'flammable' and 'inflammable' mean the same thing, right?

Person Who Has Not Yet Learned To Trust Peter On Such Things: Huh?

Me: Yeah, they mean the same thing. Like 'duh' and 'no duh.'

PWHNYLTTPOST: No, no, 'inflammable' means it can't catch on fire.

Me: No, a lot of people make that mistake. You can look it up if you like, but they actually mean the same thing.

PWHNYLTTPOST: I just don't see how that's possible. Let's look it up.

Me: (smiling, knowing that another will soon realize the foolishness of ignoring my knowledge) Have at it.

Inevitably, this person finds that I was speaking the truth and says something to the effect of, "Wow, that's really weird. Why would they mean the same thing?" I will usually then remind them of the "duh/no duh" correlation from earlier in the conversation, and they begin to feel a wee bit humbled in my presence.

I don't know why those words are defined as they are. "In" is obviously a prefix that makes many words opposites, such as "visible" and "invisible." The thought of those meaning the same thing as each other is preposterous (or post-posterous, if you will), and that's what offends our sensibilities so much with the "inflammable" case.

I found a similar, but not identical situation. If we say something is valuable, it would be reasonable to assume that "invaluable" would mean the opposite. However, that couldn't be farther from accuracy. Somehow, I know not how, it's come to mean even more valuable than "valuable."

So far, we've seen the prefix "in" having three different meanings: the opposite of the word (invisible), even more so (invaluable), and nothing really at all (inflammable). Thanks to the world-class comedy of "The Three Amigos," I thought of one more. Fortunately this one exists, because the movie wouldn't have had any real premise without it.

In a letter, a desperate woman (Carmen) writes to our three heroes to ask for their help in defeating the neighborhood bad guy, El Guapo. She spits out all sorts of heinous adjectives describing him, but then doesn't have enough money to send that length of telegram. Instead of the many descriptors, they go with "infamous." Los Amigos, who are actors, wrongly think that the "in" there has the same meaning as in "invaluable." Ned (Martin Short) says something to the effect of, "He's not just famous, he infamous." They agree that he must be a big star in Mexico, and hilarity ensues. How would we describe the real meaning of the prefix in that word? "In a bad way" doesn't really hit it. Any thoughts?

So that's four very different meanings of the prefix "in." I know I may have lost half of you a while ago, but I'm hoping those of you still with me find this somewhat interesting. I do, at least, but I suppose that's a big part of what makes me me.

Huh, that's interesting. I was just about to start the next line with the word "regardless," which made me think (uh oh). Irregardless means the same thing, right? There's another prefix that can mean the opposite ("irrational," for example) but instead means absolutely nothing. I guess I can now say, "Yep, flammable and inflammable mean the same thing. Just like duh and no duh and regardless and irregardless." Cool. I love expanding my repertoire. And you can't spell "repertoire" without Peter, after all.

This post has led me to three final thoughts that I have:

1. It must be so incredibly difficult to learn English.

2. Why would anyone use "inflammable" or "irregardless" unless they like using meaningless syllables?

3. Does anyone else find this stuff even remotely interesting?

That's that for now, gentle readers. I actually have more word stuff that I was going to write all about, but the "in" thing turned into a post on its own. I'm leaving for a conference in San Diego today through Friday, but I'll make sure you get your daily dose of UOPTA. Fear not. Please remember to write to ptklein@gmail.com with anything about anything, for this week's FUF is still wide open (due to the lack of emails currently gracing my inbox). Irregardless, I hope you have learned invaluable life lessons today.

Lasting impressions

Good morning, everyone out there. Today is the most glorious of all Tuesdays in the year 2007. Why's that? Because it's my lovely wife's birthday, of course. The only other Tuesdays that even come close are November 13 (my grandma's, aunt's, and friend Dave's birthdays), the first night of Hanukkah, and Christmas. But today is #1, for no other Tuesday has the distinct pleasure of welcoming my wife into a new decade of life. Happy birthday, honey.

Yesterday, this same lovely wife emailed me with a bumper sticker she saw. Normally I would wait to mention this in this week's Follow Up Friday, but I'm going to use this to lead into an actual story instead. The bumper sticker? "Something Wiccan This Way Comes."

By a show of hands, how many of you are familiar with Wicca? According to our friends at Wikipedia, "As practiced by lineaged initiates, Wicca is a variety of witchcraft founded on religious and magical concepts, and most of its adherents identify as witches." My crude guestimate of "something like witchcraft" would've been spot on, but I'm glad I went to the universal resource for clarification.

So, the car is basically saying to everyone else, "Look out, I'm a witch." It's very similar to the "My Other Car is a Broom" sticker in meaning, but more spiritual in nature I suppose. In any case, it's a play on words from one of the most famous lines in some play called Macbeth: "Something wicked this way comes." I'd say it's probably tied for the second most famous line in the play with, "Double, double toil and trouble." "Out, damn'd spot!" would have to be first, right? Any arguments on that assessment?

In any case, Ray Bradbury wrote a book called "Something Wicked This Way Comes," taking the line from the aforementioned Shakespearean play. Amber read some Bradbury in one of her favorite classes in college, and that my friends, is what I'm finally getting around to.

Frank McConnell, who has sadly since passed away, was an English professor who taught the Science Fiction course at UC Santa Barbara. Anyone who crossed paths with him remembered him from that day on. As an English major, I saw him in the halls quite often, and it was always the same exact thing: a cane in one hand, and drink in the other. I never got to take a class with him, but the stories are legendary.

Here is how day one of a Frank McConnell class went: He'd walk in and announce to the class, "I smoke too much, I drink too much, I say 'fuck' a lot - get over it." He'd go through his intro about what the class would cover and his expectations of the students. Then he'd stop and ask, "Who here has not seen 'The Usual Suspects?'" Some hands would go up. "Kevin Spacey is Keyser Soze," he say bluntly. He would then do the same end-ruining thing with a few other movies before opening it up for the class to do the same with ones he'd missed. During the course of the course, he didn't have lesson plans, but rather years and years of knowledge that he would use to help shape the active conversations he wanted to have with the class. If a student asked a particularly good question, he'd ask if s/he were 21. If so, he'd offer to buy him/her a beer after class. Did I mention that he won the "Professor of the Year" award five times?

I only had one interaction with him, but I'll never forget it. I was outside of a professor's office, waiting for his office hours to begin so we could discuss a paper I was writing. As one might expect, I was quite early. With plenty of reading to do, I plopped myself down on the floor and continued a book that was assigned for another class. It was The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien, a very gripping book about the author's time in Vietnam. Professor McConnell walked by with his cane and drink, and then stopped in front of me when he saw what I was reading. "How are you liking that?" he asked. I had just started it recently, but I told him that it was fascinating and well-written so far. He shook his head, and I wondered if I had given the wrong answer. "That guy pisses me off," he said. "I'm busting my ass for years trying to write a book, and he pops out two great ones in a span of 18 months." He shook his head again and then continued a few steps further down the hall. Then he stopped again, still shaking his head, and turned back to me. "I hope he fucking dies," he said, and then he walked away.

That was my one and only interaction with him. When he passed away, one of my poetry classes spent an hour talking about him. I was one of the few who hadn't taken a class from him, and the others were crediting him with inspiring them to do all sorts of things: trust their inner voices, stay in school despite the challenge of being a single mother, have the courage to come out to one's parents, etc. I told my story and got knowing smiles and nods from the group, but I couldn't help but feel cheated that I'd missed out on more of him. Something tells me I'd have enough for a few weeks' worth of blog posts at the very least.

Well, I hope this didn't end up being a downer on such a lovely day. It truly was meant as nothing more than a tribute to one of my wife's favorite professors on her birthday. He was an undoubtedly fascinating man, and I'm pleased to tell what I little I know of him to you.

Have a glorious Tuesday, gentle readers, and a wonderful birthday, Amber. And oh yeah, Soylent Green is people.

p.s. If you're interested at all, here's the press release that UCSB put out after Professor McConnell's death: http://www.ia.ucsb.edu/pa/display.aspx?pkey=269

Hair necessities

Good morning, everyone. Today is Monday, the most maligned day of the week. It's not really fair, but that's just the way it is. Monday, I believe in you. Don't let those assholes (The Bangles, Peter, Paul, & Mary, etc.) get you down.

For today's topic, I'm going to write about something that, in theory, half of you will sympathize with and half with empathize. That's right: facial hair. Men don't accessorize nearly as much as women, and growing facial hair is one way to do it. It also serves as a little way to exude manliness, since we don't do that by wearing tight clothes that show off our boyish figures. For those two reasons and the fact that I really don't like shaving, I've had several relationships with hair on my face throughout the years.

My senior year of high school, I had the bottom part of a goatee for several months. It was only the bottom part because my mustache didn't even come close to growing in. Regardless, it felt really cool and mature to be able to grow it, and I liked it because it helped me stand out a bit. I eventually shaved it a couple of days before graduation, and that made my mom very happy. She didn't dislike it, but she knew I was about to have pictures taken that we'd keep forever, so why have something that might just be a fad? Also, while she thought it was cute, I apparently have a long face and the goatee just accentuated that.

It wasn't gone for too long. I grew it again freshman year of college, but this time I let the 'stache come in as much as it could. Since this is the same time that I met the woman who would eventually become my lovely wife, all of the "Peter and Amber: The Early Years" pictures have my goatee as well. By Spring quarter, I had changed my mind again and shaved it once more. Fickle teenagers.

Time passed, and I graduated college with my clean-shavenness intact, with the exception of some mini "finals beards" during the last week of each quarter out of laziness. A year or so later, I figured it was time to change things up again. (You have to realize, I can't do anything with my hair but wear it as it is; I need some way to alter my appearance a little from time to time.) So I walked into work with my new and growing goatee, and a British professor saw me from about ten feet away and said loudly, "Oh, I see you've got a little dickie!" Yeah, that got people's attention alright. Stupid British slang.

A couple of years went by with me and my goat. It served me well and may have made me look older, which was something I wanted at the time. I proposed to my wife with a goatee and she said yes, so it couldn't have been all that bad. I knew I didn't want it for our wedding though, so I did what any sensible man would: I didn't shave at all for two weeks before shaving it all off. In stages. Let me tell you, friends, it was glorious. My wife was so afraid of the horseshoe looking long mustache and long sideburns that she didn't even want to look at me for the minute it existed on my face. I made her take a picture of me with just a normal sized mustache, and two different people on separate occasions said I looked like "a 70s porn star." I really must have.

Fast forward a few years of smooth-cheeked Peter, and we're in Mexico on vacation. I hadn't shaved for three or four days and it was time to decide my path. "What the hell?" I thought, "Let's go crazy with this bad boy." I did shave my neck every couple of days to make sure the look was "growing a beard" and not "in need of a residence." As it came in more, I really liked it. Since I apparently have a long face, the full beard had a bit of a rounding effect. It only itched a little, and I felt more and more like someone who could possibly be the suave bad guy in a movie adapted from a Tom Clancy book. (My brother knows what I mean by that, even if nobody else does.)

We got back to the states, and I had another decision to make. Do I illogically keep a beard just as it's about to get hot for the summer, or do I abandon it all and go back to pre-Mexico Peter with his glistening cheeks and long face? I was almost positive my wife was going to request I shave it because "even though it was very cute, she likes how I look more without it." Instead, she said, "Try it out tomorrow; see what your co-workers say."

Co-worker 1: "Get rid of that thing, you're scaring the children."
Co-worker 2: "It doesn't matter what we think. If you like the way that looks, then you keep it."

Ringing endorsements! Naturally, it was gone the next day. I think that was a good choice, because it was only a matter of time before someone said that I looked like I was emulating Ryan Seacrest on the days that he's trying to pull off the same maneuver. "Last night, we had almost double-digit readers and a whopping 5 comments, but it all comes down to today. THIS...is UOPTA." I really don't like that guy.

Ok, that's it for now. Be good to Monday, folks, it's a tough life it leads. And for Pete's sake (literally), send thoughts, questions, stories, Car Watch items, etc. to ptklein@gmail.com.

FUF #16

It's Friday, and all I wanna do is have some FUF. I gotta feeling, I'm not the only...wuf. That FUF pun was brought to you by my lovely wife, who has scarily learned to think a little bit like me. Yes, 'tis Friday, my friends. I had written earlier this week that I often overvalued four-day work weeks because losing 20% wasn't that big a deal. Guess what? I was wrong about that this time. Friday seemed to come a little faster. I guess that means that next time there's a four-dayer, I'm going to expect it to be fast and then get right back into the whole overvaluing thing. Ah, the circle of life.

Speaking of which, it's frickin' June! How the hell did that happen? June's a big month for Los Kleins. Both Amber and I enter a new decade, my parents celebrate their 38th anniversary, my nephew turns 1 and 11/12ths, the offspring of the Sackies turns 4, and we have the half-birthdays of my dad, my brother, my mother-in-law, Jon, Twilight, Candice, Rockabye, and Jesus. Maybe December's a bigger month than June, now that I think about it.

Ready for some random stuff? Good.

One place we visited in Mexico had a bunch of animals. There were boars who ran a lot faster than we thought, monkeys who seemed to be as smart of some people we've met, and lots of birds. One of the birds was a toucan, which led me to a few "Toucan play at this game" comments. The other birds were bright and colorful parrots. I don't know why it surprised me in the slightest, but I was taken aback when one of the parrots suddenly said, "Hola hola!" It continued saying it every so often, and it continued being funny the whole time. One of the parrots even successfully copied a woman's laugh, which was cool but also a little creepy.

I spoke with my good friend Lisa a couple of days after we returned. "A horrible thing happened while you were gone," she said. "What's that?" I asked, pretty sure that it had nothing to do with something serious. "Our internet was down almost all week." We commiserated over how powerless a feeling that is, and how it's gotten to a point in which I'm almost 100% useless at work when my computer isn't working. The machines have us right where they want us.

Here's something that I thought of earlier that I wanted to share with you all. You know what's not fair? North and South always get top billing in combo directions. That's bullshit. Who decided that? Why can't we say that something is Eastnorth of here, or I'm on the Westsouthern corner? Well, guess who's gonna start doing that? Just remember, gentle readers, you heard it here first. But if the FBI's asking, you didn't hear it here.

My brother called me to tell me something yesterday. He heard a radio commercial for a company that had virus protection software. Their phone number? 1-800-KILLSPAMEMAIL. That's 13 frickin' numbers (and the same as KILLS PANTHERS or KILL SPANISH RICE)! Not as bad as 1-800-SAVETHECHILDREN, but closer than I expected anyone else to get.

About two weeks ago, I wrote about Dusty having battery acid in the back of his Jeep and the effect it had on my pants and Lisa's jeans. For some reason, I never made any comment in that post about "acid wash jeans," and I apologize for that.

Car Watch time!

Rockabye saw a license plate that had a heart symbol and then MY CELL. Sure enough, she was talking on her cell phone at the time. I'm all for love, but a cell phone seems an unnatural object of such affection.

One of my favorite plates of the year so far: On the 405 in fun-as-ever traffic, I spied OY VEY LA. I love it.

Shortly after that one, I came up behind a plate that read FROOGAL...on a Jaguar. I'm gonna leave that one alone and let it speak for itself.

Lastly, I saw a license plate frame that pissed me off: UC San Diego...The Smart Ones. Really? I'm not saying UCSB is on the same level as Harvard, but UCSD should know better than to create something like that. I don't know if they're comparing themselves to their sister campuses in the UC system, but if so, Berkeley might have a bone to pick with them. So might UCLA. And by golly, so might my beloved Gauchos. After all, 5 Nobel laureates since 98 ain't bad. Neither is being ranked the #2 public research university in the country, but I digress. "The Smart Ones." Why is that even plural? It doesn't say "UC San Diego Students" on the top? I'll stop now.

Deep breaths, Peter. Have a great weekend, everyone, and I hope your June gets off to a great start. Remember to write to ptklein@gmail.com with anything about anything so I can get some extra material for posts and future FUFs.