Pun in the sun

Hello and good morning, readers of my words. We are fully entrenched in mid-May, so if you live in a place in which there actually were April showers, I hope you're fully reaping the benefits of them by now. I'm in L.A., so my seasons are basically "sunny" and "why isn't it sunny?" Even as a life-long Californian, I find it funny when my fellow Angelinos complain about a couple of days in a row of temperatures in the 60s. (Hey, it looks like my name could be found in the word 'temperature.' That's almost interesting.) Ready for some random thoughts and observations for this Friday morning? Here goes:

God bless the internet. Oh sure, there's a very dark side of illegal and immoral activity that can spread to a larger population because of Al Gore's invention, but there are so many benefits. For now, I shall sing the praises of one Craig's List. Weeks back, my friend Dusty purchased Laker playoff tickets. Knowing full well that everyone would by trying to get them at the same moment, we strategized and went after Game 5 of the second round. All that needed to happen was for the Lakers to win in the first round and not sweep in the second in order for us to go. When the second round schedule finally got set, Game 5 coincided with concert tickets that my lovely wife and I had purchased a while back. Naturally, I wanted to do both of these things, and we turned to Craig's List. I asked if anyone had tickets to the other night of the concert and wanted to swap with ours. Since they were general admission tickets, we didn't have to worry about pricing or seating differences. Sure enough, within a short amount of time, a young lady wrote and said that the second night was better for her. We met up in a supermarket parking lot, exchanged tickets, and wished each other well. Ta-dah! I ended up truly having my cake and eating it too, seeing a kick-ass concert and then hurting my throat as I screamed the Lakers on to victory. Here's what gets me about this whole thing: where else in the world is a service provided that helps people come together without anyone making money off of it? Craig's List is not only free to people like me who want to post or reply to something, but there isn't even any advertising on it. As a consumer, I would gladly accept ads on the site to support it since I'm getting all of the benefits for free. Maybe I'm just jaded by how overly capitalistic everything has become, but the fact that the site doesn't make any money just blows my mind. Craig, thank you. You helped me have a very fun week of events.

News flash: Jokes aren't funny when you have to explain them. Shocking, I know. As I've mentioned before in this space, I did some improv comedy for a couple of years when I was considerably younger. One of the most important aspects of being in an improv scene is knowing when to swallow a funny line you have if the timing's not right. It's very difficult, but if it doesn't fit there, let it go. I know this, and I try to apply it to my everyday humor as well. I even scoff at people who don't do this, since I'm a card-carrying humor snob and all. The thing is, I failed miserably earlier this week. I was standing in my boss's office with a few others, and he said that he was meeting someone named Dennis later. I immediately made some connection in my head to Dennis sounding like "dentist," because that's what I do. (I also immediately jump to a hilarious "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" scene with someone called Dennis, but that's not relevant here.) Then, my boss said that his meeting would be at 2:30. My brain made the requisite "dentist" and "tooth-hurty" connection, and it wanted my mouth to share it with others. I had a quick second thought, which was something like, "But they don't know you think of dentists when that name comes up, so this won't make any sense." It was too late. What followed was an awkward exchange with a bunch of "kindas" and "ya knows." After the stumbling explanation was completed, my co-worker Rob said that he actually would've found that funny if it hadn't needed the accompanying explanation. Hey, look at that: you can't spell "comedy hypocrite" without Peter.

Ah, let's talk about friends for a minute, shall we? There are many kinds of friends and ways in which to categorize them. For right now, I shall make two large categories: Ones who find out what you dislike and try to avoid said annoyance, and ones who find out what you dislike and make it their goal to include said annoyance in every possible aspect of your relationship because they think it's funny when you get all pissed off. My good friends Dave and Dusty are in the latter group. If they know that I'm waiting for them to meet me somewhere, they'll send me a text message saying they're running twice as late as they actually are. Why? Because they want me to be upset and angry; that's funny to them. I have an old and a new example of what I'm talking about.

My group of friends went and saw "Dude, Where's My Car?" when it came out years ago. My best guess as to why we'd go to that movie in the first place is that we were in a phase where we really enjoyed horrible movies. "John Carpenter's Vampires" would come on and we'd watch the entire thing, even if that was the third time that day. We grew out of that phase, quite fortunately. In any case, I hated the movie. One three-second part made me laugh, and that was it. Much worse, one aspect of the movie infuriated me. The screenwriter was trying incredibly hard to add a new slang term to my generation's vocabulary. The main characters said that everything cool was "shibby," and they said it over and over and over again. I told my friends how angry that made me, especially since it was a stupid word that had no chance of catching on. Naturally, they've spent the last seven or eight years saying "shibby" or the modified "shib" about everything. Man I hate my best friends sometimes.

The other example is a very recent one. I'm actually coming around to liking this, which will completely foil their plans. They know how I feel about "PIN number" and "ATM machine," so they want to say as many of those redundancies around me as possible. A week or so ago, Dave said, "LOL out loud!" to me. He's also asked me, "What the wtf?" Instead of being monumentally irked by this, I actually find it funny (since they're doing it on purpose) and have tried coming up with some of my own. I've used "For your FYI" (which I've heard used in real life), and I'm going to work in "FBI investigation" sometime soon. Hey, that sounds way too good; have I said that one unknowingly in the past? Yikes, I may have. "An ongoing FBI investigation" sounds very normal, unless you say, "An ongoing Federal Bureau of Investigation investigation." I have to think more about that one, because even though it puts the same word together twice, we can't use "an FBI" as an investigation (a la the "M" in ATM and "N" in PIN). Ya know, nevermind. That one is fine and correct even though it sounds redundant. My bad. I'll think of more. As soon as ASAP.

My favorite brother called me after hearing an ad for some car rental company. Their phone number was 1-800-RENTACAR. He heard that, realized that the final R was unnecessary, and wanted my thoughts on what else that could be. My first thoughts were 1-800-RENTACAMEL and 1-800-RENTACALIFORNIAHOOKER. Someone in need of a hockey teammate might dial 1-800-RENTACANADIAN and be unpleasantly accosted with descriptions of full-coverage insurance. Playing around a little with the letters on each button, if someone dialed 1-800-SENTBACK in hopes of reaching a rebate or customer service center, they would unfortunately be asked about their desire to upgrade to the luxury sedan instead.

And now, the segment that none of the kids in the neighborhood are talking about: Car Watch!

I saw a license plate that read, "GD KDS." I had several thoughts about what this could be. I suppose the most logical interpretation would be simply, "Good kids." However, my very first thought was "God Damn Kids," said in the voice of an old crusty neighbor whose geraniums had just been accidentally smushed by an errant basketball. It could be "God Kids," either saying "We are all God's children" or "God is a practical joker." So many blasphemous possibilities, so little time.

My homey Rockabye saw a license plate frame that I understand but refuse to support: "My Saturn is better than Uranus." Yes, I understand the pun they're making, but it just doesn't make any sense once you strip that layer away. Seriously, tell me, Saturn driver, how exactly is your car better than that planet? It's not even a case of comparing apples and oranges because at least those two are both kinds of fruit. Your car is more accessible to you than Uranus, I'll give you that, but it's just a stupid comparison to make. How many similar objects are there to your car that you know of? And how many similar planets? Ooh, you're so moded. Just to make sure I don't lose sight of the pun (since that's the only reason for the frame at all), I want to go on record and say that I actually prefer my anus to your car as well. So there.

Last but certainly not least, Rockabye also sent in this bumper sticker: "Make salads, not war." I never knew that was a viable alternative. All this time, instead of the exorbitant cost and loss of life associated with war, we could've been knee deep in greens, veggies, and maybe some assorted Italian meats or garbanzo beans. Oh the possibilities! (Hey, I made salads at an Italian restaurant for a couple of years and then at another place for a week. I chose that over war, and I'm damn proud of that, even if I did it unknowingly. Where's my Nobel Peace Prize?)

Ok folks, I've had enough jibber-jabber for a week. Before I depart, I want to wish a very happy birthday to my good friend Lisa today. Also, a happy early anniversary to our friends Jesse and Danielle, and a happy early dentist appointment to me. (It's not at 2:30 though. Damn, I totally should've interrupted my workday for a mildly humorous pun. Next time.) Have a glorious weekend and week, my peeps. As always, please email me at ptklein@gmail.com with anything about anything. I like the attention. Shaloha to you all.

You say tomahto (and that's stupid)

Hello and good morning, my little slice of the online population. I hope all has been well since we last e-saw each other a week ago. I have a bunch of random crap with which to assail you, so please sit back, relax, and I hope you enjoy the ramblings of a mostly-sane man.

On my way into work this week, I heard two commercials in succession that each made me think of word pronunciation. Technically, neither of these commercials was wrong with the respective words that caught my ears, but they're different from how I say them. The first commercial said something about redeeming coupons. The woman reading the script said 'coupon' as 'kyoo-pon' instead of 'koo-pon' as I do. I looked at an online dictionary, and it says either is correct, but I just don't like that version as much. Where else do we see a word starting with "cou" and having a "kyoo" sound? Is a messenger also known as a kyoo-ree-ur? Are big cats calls kyoo-gers? I know I should never expect English to make sense, but this one just feels like it came about by people pronouncing it incorrectly.

The second one isn't wrong either, but it made me think, and this is my thought receptacle. "See store for details," the announcer said in a quick phrase at the end of the commercial. While I would've said it as, "See store for DEE-tails," he said, "See store for di-TAILS." There are a lot of words out there that switch their emphasis depending on whether they're acting as a noun or a verb (conflict, combat, object, upset, etc.), but I don't think this was one of those. Instead, it was just an alternate way of saying a word, and since it caught my ear, I had it catch your eyes.

I was walking to the Coffee Bean with my co-worker Rob, and he pointed out the Nissan Armada in the parking lot. I realize this is a car topic and not in the Car Watch section, but I think it falls more under the "words" or "things that piss me off" category than that one. "I have two fairly large problems with the name of that car," I told him. "And while they're both large, one is grander in scope than the other." First, I take issue with the fact that a single car is named a plural noun. Sure, it doesn't end in an S, but it's a fleet or a navy, and I have trouble with that being represented by one vehicle. "So that's the bigger issue, right?" Rob asked me. "No, surprisingly it isn't," I replied. The larger issue in my opinion is the fact that an SUV is named after a military fleet that has historically be sent specifically to kill people and take over their land. To me, that just seems a bit extreme and violent for something that takes your kids to softball practice. What's next, the GMC Stealth Bomber? (Oh crap, I just gave them an idea, didn't I?)

More word stuff! There are two words that I said incorrectly throughout large portions of my childhood. Since I'm sharing this error with you all, I hope that you'll either agree with me or chime in with your own errors. I don't have a gavel, so I won't judge you. First off, I could've sworn that the thing people push around during yard work or other similar activities was called a "wheelbarrel." I don't know why, but I can't be the only one, right? I knew the word 'wheel,' and I knew the word 'barrel,' so I guess my mind put them together.

The other one is similar, but I stand by it more because my version makes more sense than the correct one. "He treats her very well, as if he puts her on a pedastool." It's like a footstool, but probably a little higher. What else would someone be up on if not a stool? Since 'ped' means 'foot,' I really think that footstools or stepladders should be called pedastools instead. Who's joining me in this senseless endeavor?

My favorite brother called me over the weekend to report something that caught his eye. It was an ad for a mortgage company, and amongst other things that they can do for you, they will "Fix Your Adjustable ARM." Yes, they will fix your doubly-adjustable rate mortgage. That's not quite up there with "ATM machine" and "PIN number" as far as making me angry, but that's probably just because I like the idea of someone trying to fix an adjustable arm instead of an ARM. Hold still!

I overheard a man talking to two people who I assume were his co-workers about someone else. "The thing about her is," he said, "she can't take the heat. She's not chill." Make up your mind, man. Either she is chill and therefore can not take heat, or she is not chill and takes heat with great ease. That makes no sense; it's totally sensible.

Another thing I overheard took place in a crowded Starbucks. Since the line was long, the woman in front of me struck up a conversation with the woman in front of her. After chatting about nothing for a moment, the woman two ahead of me mentioned her kids. The other woman, in a tone of complete shock and wonder, asked, "So did you get married and then have kids?" "Yeah," the wife/mother replied. "DAMN!" said the other woman, as if that was the most unorthodox order of events she could fathom. I wanted so badly to add a funny line (even though I wasn't a part of the conversation), but after three seconds passed, I knew I'd missed my window. In hindsight, I think I might've added, "I heard she loads her dishes before turning on the dishwasher too. That's some crazy shit!" I was too slow though, and there's a 100% chance that I would've just come across as a dick, so maybe my slow response time was a good thing.

Last but not least for this section, I thought of another word that's said wrong and therefore pisses me off. I know some of you might say this, and if you stop it right now, I won't hold it against you. Ready? "Drownding." That's not even mispronounced; it's just wrong. That one is right up there with "accrost," and you may recall that I'm not a big fan of that one either.

By a show of hands, how many of you are ready for the Car Watch? Peter, I already counted you. Any others? Ok, the Is have it.

I saw a bumper sticker, and while I often read too much into things, I'm not sure if that's the case this time. It said, "I (upside down heart) Hiney." Here's the thing that struck me: the upside down heart kind of looks like a butt. That's gotta be what they're going for, right? It can't just be "love," because then there would be no reason to flip it. Friends, am I off here or do you agree with my assessment?

This one admittedly isn't too interesting, but what the hell? I saw a plate that only said, "007" right in the middle of it. The driver must've requested that a long, long time ago. I think it's cool, but I'm more impressed that someone even had the idea to try for that by itself. Bravo, Faux Bond. (That's a funny little side-part to that plate, now that I think about it. It's paradoxical to think of a secret agent advertising his codename to everyone. "Hi everyone, I'm a British spy!")

My homey Rockabye saw a license plate behind which I can't for the life of me explain the rationale. I wrote a similar statement about "BAD SMEL" last week, but this one exceeds that in its incomprehensibility. (That word just took me a whole minute to type, by the way.) The plate read, "UGLY MAN." Come on, dude, really? I mean, really? I didn't get a chance to ask my friend if he got a look at the guy or if it was a very nice car to compensate for his facial shortcomings. (Ooh, "facial shortcomings" is going to be the next "vertically challenged" in the world of discrimination euphemisms, I can feel it!)

Last but far from least, my dad sent me a bumper sticker that confused him. "Whip Cream," it said. Wow, I have a number of questions about this one. I'll break it down in a numerical format to prove that there is indeed a number of them.

1. Why isn't it "whipped" cream?
2. If it is supposed to be the foodstuff, what do they want us to do with that information? Eat more of it?
3. Is it a command? If so, I'm not sure I want to do that. It could splatter all over the place, and then we'd need a "Clean Up Cream" sticker to follow.
4. Is it a reference Eric Clapton's old band, Cream? If so, I don't get it.
5. Is it just an inside joke amongst friends? If so, thanks for confusing the rest of us, jerkweed.
6. Did I just use 'jerkweed'? What the hell does that even mean? Isn't jerking a weed out of the ground a good thing? Maybe I should change that to "weedsprout" instead.
7. Am I still typing all of this?

There, that was a number; 7 to be precise. That'll teach you to doubt me again.

Ok folks, I'm outa here. To all the muthas out there, have a very special day of celebration this Sunday. Without you, well, I guess nothing would've ever gotten done in the history of civilization. So you got that going for you. As always, friends, please email ptklein@gmail.com with anything you think of whatsoever. I like the attention.

Unexpected guests

Hello and good morning, my homepeople. I hope the month of May's early offerings have treated you well so far. It's usually around this time each year when I think to myself, "Wow, we're almost halfway done with this year already? It feels like we just turned to this number." This year, however, I feel like it's been 08 already for a long, long time. I don't know if it's the whole election/Olympic year thing (or leap year), but I feel approximately eight months into 2008 instead of five. It's hard to quantify that perception, but I gave it a shot. After all, you can't spell "perception" without Peter.

Admittedly, I'm getting a little out of control with the whole "You can't spell (blank) without Peter" thing. It's almost become a sickness, to be frank. If I hear or see a word that clearly has a P and either a T or an R in it, I immediately scan the rest of it in my head to see if all five are there. It's not even just one word, in fact. Last week, my lovely wife asked me, "Are those different pants?" "No," I replied, "but you cant spell 'different pants' without Peter." I can't stop. The same thing happened at work when someone referred to someone else as a "puppet master." Before I knew what was happening, I was informing them of what I thought was interesting about those words. A client told me I was perfect, and I told him about that word too. I could tell from his reply that he thought I just meant that they both start with a P. Did I let it slide? Nope, I said, "Actually, I meant that all of the letters of my name are also in the word 'perfect.'" "Oh, well, that's...neat." I did manage to stop myself from listing off a bunch of others I know, so I guess there's still some restraint there. Oh well, I suppose there are far worse addictions I could have.

Here's an interesting happening from the past week: I was sitting at our kitchen table (that's not actually in our kitchen), either working on a crossword puzzle or sudoku. From the office/dog's room, Amber said very matter-of-factly, "There's a lizard in our house." I understood the words she said, but I still replied, "What?" "There's a lizard in our house," she repeated. I walked over to her, and sure enough, she hadn't been speaking in code. There in the corner by the doggy door was a lizard. They're kind of cute, and I've always liked lizards from a distance, but I wasn't super pleased to have it in our house. Fortunately, it was there in plain sight and hadn't come in unnoticed. I decided that Tupperware was going to increase in its usefulness, and I grabbed one large enough to put over the reptile. "I must warn you," I told my lovely wife, "I'm going to scream like a little girl if it starts moving." She said that would be ok. As I gingerly lowered the container, he was thankfully obliging and didn't start freaking out until he was completely encased. As we searched for the perfect thing to slide under the container to transport the lizard, the poor guy starting running around in there like he was scared. Suddenly, I felt like the cold-blooded one. (Hey-o!) We found an appropriate bottom to our makeshift cage, and Amber went on the other side of the doggy door for me to pass her the lizard. (No, that's not slang anything.) She took the container and let the lizard out in our backyard. Crisis averted. Ok, maybe not a crisis per se, but an unexpected encounter that required strategic thinking and teamwork. That counts for something right?

That story reminds me of another one that I've had on my list of things to talk about for over a year, but there was never a good segue. Ready for the kick-ass transition sentence? That wasn't the only time that Amber and I had an unexpected animal encounter. (Nailed it!) After graduating college, my lovely future wife and I stayed in Santa Barbara. She got a job that would help her in her applications to graduate school the next year, and I was simultaneously looking for a job and a place to live. For a week or two, I stayed with her and her roommate Lauren while searching for both stressful things. One morning, Amber got up before me and was leaving for work while I remained in bed. Here's what I heard in my sleepy state:

1. A door opened.

2. Amber said, "Cat."

3. A door closed.

4. A door opened.

5. Amber said, "Cat."

6. A door closed more forcefully.

7. Amber said, "Peter, the stupid cat won't let me leave."

I sat up and said, "Ok, I'll be right there." While I said that, I was really thinking, "What the fuck is she talking about?" You see, they didn't have a cat, and even if they did, I failed to see how it could stop her from leaving the apartment. I ambled downstairs, and there Amber stood with a very frustrated look on her face. She opened the front door, and there was a cat, meowing and trying its damnedest to get inside the apartment. She told it, "No," and closed the door again. We quickly devised a plan. With the bottom of my foot as a barricade, she opened the door a crack. I slowly moved my foot more and more outside as the cat wondered how to get around this new obstacle. Amber slid by, and I hopped back inside with my foot still playing the part of a shield. I yelled goodbye to Amber and closed the door before the cat could get in. Ta-dah! Nowadays, we'll flatly say, "Cat" to each other and laugh, but it was touch-and-go there for a while. Thankfully, you can't spell "the cat stopper" without Peter or "animal blocker" without Amber. Hey, her letters are in those words sequentially too. That's cool, like how the five vowels are sequential in "facetious." If you want to count Y and its part-time vowel status, just make it an adverb and everybody wins.

Ok, a couple more quick hits before we see what the automotive world has to offer. Last week at bowling, "Baby Got Back" by Sir Mix-a-Lot came on. (Ah, remember when he was just Mr. Mix-a-Lot before the queen finally came around and recognized him for his contributions? Those were the days, my friends.) I had a thought, and I shared it with my friend Greg. "Ya know, I don't think Sir Mix-a-Lot gets enough credit for helping women in the realm of body image. As a kid, he was the first one who I can remember talking about preferring women with figures rather than just being rail thin. He thought curves were 'kickin' and I hadn't heard that yet." He agreed with me, but then brought up and excellent point. "Didn't Queen sing about 'Fat Bottomed Girls' though?" I couldn't refute that they did indeed make the rockin' world go 'round, but I'd always thought of that song as tongue in cheek. Wow, that was a really bad choice of phrase on my part. I'm gonna stop right here.

Lastly, I foolishly brought up "upholster" and "haphazard" as (what I thought to be) rare examples of "ph" not making an F sound. My dad mentioned "cupholder" in the comments section, and I've realized that "uphold" and "upheaval" fit the bill as well. I'm sure there are many more compound words that put those letters together without the F sound in place, so that blows my theory of rarity right out the window. My bad.

And now, we rejoin our regularly scheduled program, Car Watch! There will be no further commercial interruptions (unless some company steps up and sponsors me, then they can interrupt all they want).

I saw a license plate frame that left me with two very important questions. It read, "Endless love. Yoggie and Boo Boo." Question #1: They must mean Yogi right? That's how the bear spelled it (or had it spelled for him, at least). Question #2: Was there more to the relationship between those two bears than I knew as a kid? I thought they were pals who got into various forms of mischief together, but I never got the "endless love" vibe. Maybe there was a little more Bert-and-Ernieing going on than I realized. (I realize that Ernie-and-Berting sounds a lot better, but I just can't bring myself to put that couple in that order. It just feels awkward, like Mindy and Mork or Chachi and Joanie.)

My homey Rockabye saw a Prius with a license plate that read, "HI MILES." On one hand, that's pretty cool that they're able to advertise their vehicle's selling point in such a public way. On the other, it would really freak me out if my name were Miles and I were behind that car. "How did they know? Who's watching me? Should I say hi back? Hello. Hello?" (For those of you scoring at home, that was just me having an imaginary conversation with myself if I had been named something different. I believe that combination paid 8 to 1 on the UOPTA prop bet score sheet.)

Last but certainly not least, I did a double-take when I saw a license plate on the freeway this week. It said, "BAD SMEL." Please, my friends, tell me how that plate could possibly make sense in a way that doesn't make the driver look bad. The closest I can come up with involves him or her inventing something that purposely smells awful, like pepper spray or...nope, that's all I got. I would love to hear if there are any logical explanations for that. Hell, I'll settle for illogical ones too.

Ok, that's is it for this feller. You all should have fantastic weekends and weeks before seeing me here again next Friday. In the intervening time, have un Cinco de Mayo fantastico. That day is also the birthday of our friends Jen and Debbie, so throw back some Patron for them. See you next week, and please email me at ptklein@gmail.com with anything about anything. Or nothing about nothing even; I'm not too picky. Shaloha.

Beverages and other items

Good morning, and welcome again to what's sure to be a disjointed and ramble-filled post here at UOPTA. Normally I have a sense of what a post will be about a little before the whole introductory paragraph thing, but not this time. Instead, I'm going to troll through my random messages to myself about things I've either liked, disliked, or just plain noticed. Sound like fun? Let's jump right in then and see what happens.

Ah yes, found one. Shockingly, I pay careful attention to words and think about them quite often. Because of this hobby, I've come up with things that I think would be good product names. Here's the problem: I'm pretty sure that a very low number of successful products were created by name first. That is, if it's an invention, one should probably find some current problem or annoyance, address it with a new product, and then find a name for it later. Otherwise, it seems pretty backwards. That's how I roll. Here's another problem: none of these are actually good ideas. You'll see what I mean.

I was eating something, and I thought to myself, "This is good. It's even 'oh so good.' Hey, that sounds like 'oso good' ('oso' being 'bear' in Spanish). If I switched which word was in English and which was in Spanish, it would be 'bear bueno.' That's catchy. What could that work for? If I had a line of snack food, I could call it Bear Bueno. I guess I'd have to really target the Spanglish population if I wanted people to get my pun though." That's what I'm talking about.

Two others came up years ago, and through my backwards planning, they could actually work together under my same nonexistent company. First off, we have a beautiful bottle of Mockingbird brand tequila. Why? Because "Tequila Mockingbird" once popped in my head as an interesting turn of phrase. My liquor distilling plant doesn't just make Mockingbird Tequila though; we also offer Sat Down B Cider. That one's admittedly not nearly as catchy, but I can hear someone ordering "a Sat Down B and a shot of Mockingbird," and it's music to my ears.

Since I have two items for my alcohol-making company, I'm now invested in finding more. Soon, with any luck, I'll have a whole line of Play-on-Words Potables. I could have "ImaGINe" for Beatles fans (or "Sun And" gin for the Lost fans), "Whiskey Business" for prostitutes and/or Scientologists, "When In Rum," and maybe even "Scotch Ya Red-Handed." No, that's actually not where I wanted to go. Damn. You see, if ten average people saw Mockingbird Tequila on the shelf, how many would know what I was doing with that right off the bat? Very few, right? That's what I meant to do with these. I like names that seem like they're ordinary, and only when you drill down a bit do you find that there's actually some punnage going on. The only one of the list above that could work like that would be if I turned "Sun And" into "Anson." Anson Gin would be just like Mockingbird Tequila, except more convoluted. Therein lies the rub and the reason I'm not making any of these products in real life: why have the pun at all if it's not being used to draw customers in? If it's only for the satisfaction of my own wordnerdiness, then I'm better off stopping before I even start. (Aren't you glad you got to witness me arguing with myself again? This happens all the time, but I usually don't allow it to spill out of my fingers. I should just move on now.)

I've seen two things this week that pissed me off, and I'm curious to learn if they inspire your ire as well. First, I was picking up food from a kick-ass Italian place for lunch, and I noticed a new store had opened up next to it. Its name was "Linens et al." Stopping right there for a moment, hopefully that's enough for some of you to say, "Oh come on!" To that some of you: You are my people and I embrace you. Here's the conversation I imagine people having that led to that store being what it is:

Owner 1: So what do we want our store to be like?
Owner 2: I was thinking of it kinda like Linens 'n Things, but obviously not as big.
Owner 1: Hmmm, but how do we let people know that we sell the same stuff as Linens 'n Things?
Owner 2: We could totally bite off what they're doing and call ourselves "Fabrics 'n Things."
Owner 1: No, that's not close enough. What about "Linens y Mas" and just translate the last two words into Spanish?
Owner 2: I like the way you think. But that might sound like we're only targeting the Hispanic clients. Do you know any French?
Owner 1: No. Hey, Latin always sounds serious and established. Isn't "et al" something like "'n Things?"
Owner 2: I think it's "and others," but that's close enough for me. We're so fucking cool.
Owner 1: Yeah we are. High five!
Owner 2: (slaps hands with Owner 1) Ah, that was fun. Hey, "Bed, Bath, y Mas" might work, right?

I'm pretty sure it went down just like that, and my goat is sufficiently gotten by that. The second thing that pissed me off was when I went to the website for the reputable and top-of-mind news organization, CNN. For the last little while, they've had a little camera icon next to the stories that have video components. This week though, I noticed a new and puzzling icon: a t-shirt. "Why the hell would the have a t-shirt there?" I wondered, probably aloud. So I clicked on it. To my amazement, I went to a page that showed me that headline on a t-shirt that I could purchase for $15 plus $5 S&H. Yes, I could buy that CNN headline on a t-shirt that says I saw that headline on CNN for $20. While that would normally piss me off to a certain extent, I grew much more frustrated when I went back to the main site and saw the same icon next to "Copter Crash Caught by Security Camera." Are you as appalled as I am by this? Here's my level of appallment: I wrote a strongly-worded email to their customer service department. It takes a lot for me to go there, but I was moved. Here's what I wrote:

To Whom it May Concern:
I go to cnn.com on a daily basis, but if the site continues moving in its apparent direction, I'm afraid that's going to have to stop. What offended me so much? It's not the "important news" of Star Jones filing for divorce, nor is it the fact that a mainstream news site appears to have "Young People Who Rock" as an entire category of news. Rather, it's this whole shirt nonsense. Want to throw years and years of credibility away? It's easy, just let your audience click the t-shirt icon next to "Copter Crash Caught by Security Camera." $20 later, they can proudly wear your headline of injury and possible death on their chests. With your logo clearly emblazoned on the front, everyone will know who had neither the taste nor common sense to stop that from happening. CNN.com can't make more than $5 per transaction on these, and I can't imagine transactions numbering any higher than 100 a day. Is that really worth your credibility? Also, is there a process to determine which headlines are shirt-worthy? If not, I hope you're prepared to see some sick individuals wearing news of tragedies around with your company name and logo all over it. Please let me know that this Beta test won't be getting out of that phase. CNN is better than that, and I doubt I'm alone in my discomfort over that poor choice. Thank you for your time.

I'll let you know if I get a response to that. I hope I do, but if not, I'll settle for a lack of t-shirt icons in the near future.

Lastly, before I launch into the fascinating Car Watch section, I wanted to follow up on something I wrote sometime in the past month or two. I mentioned the word "upholster," and said that it was the only word I could think of in which "ph" wasn't used as an "f" sound. I asked you, my faithful readers, if there were others I was missing. I got no responses, so I felt pretty good about my proclamation. And then, yesterday, I used the word "haphazard" in a sentence. And then there were two.

Okeedokee, let's watch cars in the brilliantly named...Car Watch!

I saw a plate that made the 15 year-old boy who has a timeshare in my brain laugh hysterically. It read, "3TTS123." Ya know, I'm just gonna assume that that joke tells itself and stop there for this item. (And yes, I just giggled again writing the plate out.)

My homey Rockabye saw a plate that read, "FAMOUSG." I texted him back asking if it was Snoop Dogg. "No. Kenny," he replied. Damn, he got me there. That's such a touche that it's almost a threeche.

Lastly, I saw a plate that first confused me and then disturbed me. It said, "(Heart) TUB MOM." I spent a minute trying to figure out what a tub mom might be, and I was coming up empty. I did what I normally do with plates when they confuse me, and I looked at it backwards. As soon as I thought, "Mom...but...love" in my head, I immediately stopped thinking about that plate all together and went to my happy place instead.

Ok, friends and friends of friends, that's the meat of this rambling post. We have a big week ahead of us. Tomorrow, our friends Candice and Scott get married in what's sure to be a lovely ceremony, Wednesday is my adoring Grandma Mu's birthday, and Thursday is May Day, Labor Day in Mexico, Holocaust Remembrance Day, and our friend Jesse's birthday. Are you guys ready to handle all of that? Have a wonderful weekend and week, my peeps, and I'll see you in May. As always, I'm looking for material, so please send anything that pops into your head to ptkein@gmail.com. Shaloha.

Take me out

Good morning, friends, and welcome to the penultimate April 2008 offering here at UOPTA. I've said this before, but every single time I refer to you as "friends," I can't help but think of legendary Dodger announcer Vin Scully. He calls us that too, and I really think he means it (not to infer that I don't). In any case, I went to my first Dodger game of the season earlier this week, and I had a grand old time. It was me, my friend Greg, and my parents, and we had some kick ass seats between home and third. Before heading out for the game, I decided to jot down some predictions that I had. I'll launch into other random crap later on, but first I'd like to go through them one by one and report how accurate or inaccurate I was.

Prediction: "I will leave earlier than I said I would." The plan was for me to leave my office at 5:30 and pick up Greg from his work near the stadium.

Reality: Wrong. Normally, I would convince myself that it takes five minutes to walk to my car, five minutes to put an address in the GPS, and five minutes to put on my seatbelt. This time, though, I got caught up in work stuff and actually left at 5:30 on the dot. Damn, I was pretty confident about that one.

Prediction: "Traffic will seem really bad at first, but I'll actually make pretty good time."

Reality: Wrong. Traffic sucked my ass. I should've known better than to tempt the traffic gods in such a manner.

Prediction: "I'll get a little lost finding Greg, but it'll work out just fine."

Reality: Wrong. Thanks to my GPS (who I named HoBot 5000, by the way) and several calls to Greg during the final stretch of the drive, I got there without incident. It did work out fine, so I got that part right, but I'd say I've started off 0 for 3. Nice job, me.

Prediction: "Traffic from his place will be bad, but we'll get there early."

Reality: Doubly wrong! It was a breeze getting to the stadium after picking him up, but the initial drive took so long that we arrived as the National Anthem was being butchered. As a side note, Greg and I heard the song as we were making our way into the stadium and cringed repeatedly at how awful the woman sounded. I wouldn't say that either of us has a fine musical ear, but this was really something. Later, I was shocked to learn that the voice belonged to Chaka Khan. I assumed it was some contest winner or Teacher of the Year candidate and not a well-known artist. Score one for studio magic, I guess.

Prediction: "My parents will already be there."

Reality: I got one right! Not only were they there, but they were early enough that they'd already purchased and eaten their food.

Prediction: "I'll get a Dodger Dog and a Jumbo Dog, almost dropping one when I try putting ketchup on them."

Reality: Yes and no. I feel a little awkward about this one since it was completely in my hands whether I wanted to fulfill it or not. I did indeed get a Dodger Dog and a Jumbo Dog, but I didn't almost drop either one. I almost dropped the garlic fries Greg and I shared, but that doesn't count for much. Speaking of "much," my mom almost had a heart attack when she learned that my beer cost $11. "You could've bought two six packs for $11," she said. I kept egging her on, telling her that the foam that spilled was worth fifty cents, etc. Good times.

Prediction: "The Dodgers will stop sucking and lead 4-0 after 2 innings."

Reality: Not quite. They looked like crap after two innings, trailing 1-0 and having walked three straight batters. Uh oh.

Prediction: "Andruw Jones will hit a homerun, making Greg happy. Nady will have two ground outs and a strikeout, making me unhappy (but happy for the Dodgers)." This is in reference to our fantasy baseball teams. Xavier Nady is on the Pirates, so that's why I thought his failures would be good for the home team.

Reality: Jones didn't hit a homerun, but still went 2-3 and made Greg happy. Nady struck out once and went 1-3. Basically, I was off on this one too.

Prediction: "We'll leave after the top of the 8th, with the Dodgers up 4-2."

Reality: Half right! We left after the top of the 8th inning, just as I had foreseen. However, the Dodgers were up 9-2 when we left our seats, and up 10-2 before we got out of the stadium. Oh me of little faith.

prediction: "On the way back to Greg's, they'll blow the lead and lose 6-4."

Reality: Oh me of very little faith, apparently. Not only did they not blow the lead, but after tacking on another run, they retired the Pirates in order for an easy 9th. Final score, Dodgers 11, Pirates 2.

Prediction: "I'll get home to find a sleeping wife and dog and debate watching American Idol on fast forward before climbing into bed. I won't though."

Reality: I suck at predictions. While my lovely wife was in bed, she had not yet fallen asleep. I chatted with her and pet my very awake dog for a few minutes before getting into bed and reading a bit. I didn't consider watching Idol since I got a nice recap from Amber.

To conclude, I have now done two of these prediction posts and been heavily inaccurate both times. I think I can officially cross "psychic" off my list of potential careers. Oh well, it was a fun exercise nonetheless. And now, some random crap:

As you may know, I care a lot about words and word choice. I can't help but look at things with an editing eye, and that often leads to unnecessary frustration. I saw something last week though that made me think (uh oh). It was a print ad for a pendant, and it made reference to a "complementary necklace." I was intrigued, mainly because I had no way of knowing if that was an error or not. If they meant that the necklace complemented the pendant well, then they were absolutely correct. If they meant that it was free, however, then they should've spelled it "complimentary" instead. Both make sense, but the writer meant only one of them at the time of writing the copy. I find that kind of thing interesting, and I doubt I'll ever have that same word conundrum with "stationary" and "stationery." (Hmmm, I just inadvertently challenged myself. Let's see: "Despite all of the chaos throughout the years, that filing cabinet always held stationery." I think that does the trick.)

I have another story to tell about the Dodger game, but this one has nothing directly to do with sports. In the latter part of the game, Greg, my dad, and I went to get some decaf coffees and some Cracker Jacks. Even though I know they're often stupid, I was looking forward to the prize inside. As my mom and I discussed, the prizes used to be little plastic toys or mazes with a ball bearing inside. After a while, they switched to the temporary tattoos, and I liked those a lot as a kid. Sure, they never worked as well as they should've, but it was still fun to have a barely-intelligible picture on my arm. Maybe it was wrong of me to have any expectation as I opened up the little packet that said "Surprise Inside," but I was looking for something at least mildly entertaining. Instead, I got the stupidest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life. Ok, maybe that's a little extreme; you be the judge. It's a picture that looks like three yellow lines with six cartoon ants walking on it (three on each side). On the page facing this confusing picture, it says, "Pencil Topper. To use your pencil topper, just detach the prize and insert a pencil through the slits as shown below." As promised, there's a diagram of a piece of paper and a pencil going through it. Let's review the facts of the case: First, I learned that "pencil toppers" exist. Second, I learned that "pencil toppers" don't actually go on the top of the pencil, but rather more along the shaft, if you will. Third, somebody thought that the pencil-topper-seeking population would want to "top" their pencils with ants. Ants with hands. Who wear shoes. Is it the "stupidest fucking thing" yet? How about this? The last little page tells us something purported to be a Fun Fact: "A typical pencil can write 45,000 words." Oh really? That statistic means absolutely nothing to me. Can said pencil typically write "a" 45,000 times or "desafortunadamente" 45,000 times? If this were a word problem on an exam, the answer would be, "D. There is not enough information in the question to determine the answer." F you, Cracker Jack.

Ok, I need to go from boil to simmer. How should I accomplish that feat? But of course, with Car Watch! (Roll the intro. Damn, still no intro? I gotta work on that.)

On the way to this almost now-infamous Dodger game, I saw a license plate frame worth mentioning. At first, I just saw the bottom: "Fuck Bitches." Naturally, I was intrigued. There was traffic, but my lane's time came, and I caught up to the curious car. On the top of the frame, it said, "Get Money." Is that some sort of gangsta rap if/then statement? Here's the weird part (in case that's not weird yet): It was a woman driving. To me, there are only two possible explanations. First, she's a lesbian and finds that earning revenue is a good way for her to have sexual intercourse with her fellow woman. Second, the car belongs to a man with whom she is acquainted. Not to get all Helen Reddy on you, but wouldn't that frame be a deal-breaker for most women to ride in, let alone drive themselves? I would have a problem driving someone's car that said something that degrading about women, and I don't have the same personal stake in it. Readers, are you with me on this one or am I being over sensitive because of my years in Student Affairs?

Sticking to one of the themes in that last item, I was behind a car and saw from a bit of a distance a bumper sticker that said "Rainbows" in big, rainbowy letters. I got closer, and saw that entire text: "I'm not gay, I just really like RAINBOWS!" It's not often that you get someone's stylistic and sexual preferences in one bumper sticker, so bravo, Showy McStraightperson.

Last but not least, my homey Rockabye saw a plate that read, "NOFLR4U." Now what exactly are we being denied there? Flower? Flour? A floor? A flare? Fleur Delacour from the Harry Potter books? I really want to know, because I can't just call this person the Fill-in-the-Blank Nazi. What is it that you won't let me have? I want to know! Explain yourself!

Ok, I'm getting agitated again. Let's end with some happies. Happy Birthday today to my friend and former colleague Lindsey. She's cool; you guys would like her. Also, we have a busy week ahead of us. Whether you celebrate Passover or not, may the angel of death keep moving past your door this weekend. Tuesday is my favorite sister-in-law Weezie's birthday, so she deserves this pre-emptive shout out. And Wednesday is Administrative Professionals Day (no apostrophe after the S? That really confuses me.), so for all of you who professionally administer things, knock yourselves out. Have a great weekend and week, folks, and please email me at ptklein@gmail.com with anything about anything. Shaloha.

Choice word choice

Good morning, everyone, and I hope you're all doing well. A year ago, I suggested that we all call today Information Day going forward since the date is 4/11. I've held up my side of the suggestion, have you? Great. So Happy Information Day to one and all. May the hours that pass reveal insight and knowledge to you and yours. What a great holiday!

Ok folks, it's time to do what I have to do every once in a while: complain about word things that bother me. It's in my blood, and I can't fight it. There are just too many poor choices out there for me to sit idly by as my blood boils. Thank you for allowing me to vent in this space; I think it might actually be healthy for me.

First off, my favorite brother called me a little while ago after hearing a particular song by Sublime on the radio. The song is called "Annie," and I'll give you a sampling of lyrics:

"Annie's 12 years old, in two more she'll be a whore."
"Don't be afraid of the quickness you get laid, for your family get paid."
"Strong if I can, but I am only a man, so I take her to the can."
"The only family that she's ever had is her seven horny brothers and her drunk-ass dad. He needed money so he put her on the street."

"Wanna shoot your dad."

Good song, no? It's highly questionable content by all accounts, but I have no problem with them putting it on the radio if the powers that be allow it. Here's my problem: of all of those lyrics above, guess what's being bleeped out now. Go ahead, re-read them and meet me back here. Ready? "Drunk-ass dad." Not just "ass," but the entire phrase. That's right, folks, child prostitution and a hint of incest is fine, but let's make sure there's no reference to drinking (gasp) alcohol. This bugs me. It's almost as aggravating as when people bleep out the "hole" in "asshole," and that's really saying something. (By the way, I just read this paragraph again and "child prostitution and a hint of incest" sounds almost like a recipe. I thought of changing "hint" to "sprig" to complete the effect but ultimately concluded that it would be in bad taste. Whew, that was close.)

My dad received an email from someone and it deserves a mention in this space because of its sheer awesomeness. The specifics aren't necessary, but just know that the writer is supposed to be a professional in his industry. It was full - nay, chock full - of errors in spelling, grammar, and punctuation. My personal favorite part of the email was when the gentleman wanted to write the word "needs." It's a fairly common word, right? He managed to mess it up in three separate ways. What do I mean? Well, he wrote, "It Ned's to replace." Thus, there is an incorrect capitalization, a misspelling, and an uncalled for apostrophe (since it's not possessive). That's hard to do! Seriously folks, three distinct errors in a five-letter word is almost worth commending. At the very least, I found it worth sharing with you all. Hopefully you get even a fraction of the excitement that I did from that gaffe.

I saw a commercial on tv that pissed me off a little. Naturally, I turn to you. It's an ad for AMPM, and it shows a guy who has a new job, new office, stacks of cash, and a private butler. "You can never have too much good stuff," it tells us. Immediately following that statement, the announcer says, "AMPM. Too much good stuff." What? I thought you just said that I can never have that? It's the equivalent of having an ad that says, "Flying donkeys don't exist. AMPM. Flying Donkeys." Yes, that's an extreme example (because who needs that many asses up in the air? Don't answer that.), but the point is basically the same. Someone in the boardroom needed to speak up and say, "I don't think we should negate the possibility of what we're trying to sell" or even "I'm not sure that makes any sense." Espn.com's Bill Simmons says that all sports franchises should have a VP of Common Sense to review trades and other transactions before they're finalized. I think companies selling things on tv should have that position available too, and I'm just the man for it. I'd be the one to ask, "Why are there diagonal grill marks on the crunch wrap when we show it coming off a grill with vertical bars?" And I'd be there to mention that it might not be a good idea to make a commercial centering on the theme of sexual harassment when you're selling hot dogs and saying "wiener" several times. "Hmmm, excellent point, Mr. Vice President," they'd say. "You deserve yet another raise this week." "You're damn right I do," I'd reply, but with a little smile so they wouldn't be sure if I was being real cocky or faux cocky. ("Faux cocky" is fun to say. It could easily be a Japanese appetizer if it were spelled "fokaki," don't you think? "Yeah, we're gonna start with some edamame, two miso soups, and an order of fokaki please. Can we get that well done?")

Last rant of the day: The gas station closest to our house has one of the drive-through car washes. (I realize "drive-thru" is universally accepted now, but I just can't bring myself to write that. It's like "nite" and "lite," which I tend to only use in proper nouns. Do those things bug anyone else but me?) The sign advertising this particular car wash proudly says "Touchfree" on it. That's it, just "Car Wash. Touchfree." To me, that's not a plus when talking about washing someone's car. "We're going to make your car clean and shiny...but we won't even come close to touching it." Here's how I know I'm not crazy with this issue: this car wash's competitors advertise by blatantly telling us that they're going to touch our cars. "Hand Wash" is a big selling point, and there's no way to separate touching from that scenario. The only other reason I can see them putting that on there is in a sheepish manner, as if to say, "We know that hand washes are better, but if you want a decent job, ours is here too. Sorry. Touchfree." I sincerely doubt that's the case, but I don't have other scenarios in which that makes sense. (And yet one more parenthetical grievance: I realize that I make up a lot of words here so I can't really complain, but "Touchfree" just doesn't do it for me. Can't they at least mix in a hyphen or something?)

Ok, before we get to the Car Watch section (not to be confused with the preceding Car Wash item), here's one use of words of which I wholeheartedly approve: My loving mother-in-law saw a t-shirt for a school of engineering. On it, it said, "Talk nerdy to me." Way to embrace your social status, man. There's no need for pretense there, and I'm glad you agree.

And now, as it has been prophesized in the annals of our forefathers, it's time for Car Watch.

I saw a plate that said, "CRAVIN U." Me? Really? I mean, I'm honored and everything, but don't you think this is a bit rushed? We've only known each other for, well, two seconds. I understand I'm dreamy and all, and while it's truly flattering, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to pass. Please redirect your crave elsewhere, kind sir or madam.

My homey Rockabye saw a bumper sticker that I'm pretty sure I've seen before, but that doesn't make it any less blogworthy: "Save the planet...we need a place to boogie." I really can't find any fault with that logic. Oh sure, there are more important reasons to keep Earth alive, but until there's proof that we can boogie on the moon or Mars, it looks like we're relegated to our standard Earth boogie.

My dad saw a license plate and called me about it. It was a very nice car driven by a woman dressed up in all sorts of jewelry and fancy shmancy attire. Her plate read, "RAT BCH." He asked me what that could be besides "Rat Bitch," and I was at a total loss. If I'd heard of such a location as Rat Beach, that would be a viable option, but thankfully I'm unaware of said place. Could it be referring to a "rat batch" used in an experiment or clinical trials? I don't think so. I believe she is The Rat Bitch, and I'm surprisingly untroubled by that.

Lastly, I saw a plate and stared at it for a few moments (I wasn't driving). It said, "CATS CVY." I assumed off the bat that the woman driving the car was named something that had Cat as a nickname. It was the second part that was troubling me. Was it telling me that Cat is curvy? Was "covey" a word? I went through a few options before I noticed that the car was a Chevy. "No," I thought, "please don't let it be that." I was distressed that "Chevy" could be the final answer, so I went back to wracking my brain over what else it could be. I didn't want "Chevy" to win, because Cat did a horrible job leading me to that conclusion, and if I got there without her help, then her plate was successful. (Yes, I actually view the world like that sometimes.) After a few more minutes of thinking of every possible vowel sound and potentially missing consonants, I gave up and let "Cat's Chevy" be the true meaning. The H is so important to that word! How could she expect us to know what the hell she's trying to convey if she's not going to accurately represent 50% of the words in the statement? You're on my shitlist, Cat, for crimes against the plate. I hope you're happy.

Ok, I've spewed enough vitriol for the week. Happy Anniversary tomorrow to our dear friends Lisa and Paul. I'll always remember their wedding date since it's similar to ours. We were married on 3/21/04, and they were on 4/12/03. Isn't that just adorable? (Yes, folks, it is.) Have a great weekend and week, everybody, and I'll see you back here next Friday. In the meantime, please remember to write to ptklein@gmail.com with anything at all. Take care, friends.

April showers bring random crap

Shaloha, people and other English-reading species. It's a pleasure to see you again, and I hope your Aprils have gotten off to good starts. Yes, we're in another month that can also be a person's name. Speaking of that topic, if you name your kid after a month, does s/he have to be born then too for it to make sense? I think it would be weird to have a kid named April born in November. I could see someone naming a child after when s/he was conceived, and I can also see that getting a little creepy pretty quickly. Imagine that kid having to explain that over and over again as a freshman in high school. Yeah, that's awkward.

Lastly on this spur-of-the-moment topic, I think it's really cool that the initials of July through November spell out Jason. 66% of the Jasons whose birthdays I know off-hand fall into that five-month span. Jason S., you just missed it. You're a walking paradox, man.

Ok, let's switch to some different random crap instead of this month kick I've been stuck on for three mini paragraphs. I had a thought (uh oh), and it was this: For kids born in the 90s, I imagine that they hear Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" for the first time and think, "Well why don't they just go on Maury Povich and settle this thing?" (I wonder how Maury feels that I automatically associate him with paternity tests and not anything else from his 20+ years of "journalism." That said, it's gotta be better than being known for getting your nose broken by a thrown chair, eh Geraldo?) It would be fantastic to see a decked out Michael on the Povich stage, his head in his hands, awaiting the news. Maury then slowly approaches him with an envelope and kneels beside him with as much bedside manner as he can muster. "Michael," he'd say, "we have the results. And the chid...is not your son." Michael would leap to his feet, do some spin moves, say some Hee Hees, and then moonwalk over to Billie Jean. Here's the kicker: He says to her, "You thought you could get your SHAM ON! SHAM ON!" And the crowd goes wild. Uh oh, I think I just wrote my first SNL skit.

So I was at my co-worker Rob's bachelor party last weekend, and I have three very minor stories to tell. Separately, I'm not sure any of them are very interesting, but together, they take up more space while not being interesting. See how that works? First, there were some funny signs that I'm getting older. While the group of guys usually talked about sports, funny stories from the past, or random stupid shit, every once in a while things would change. On one occasion, there was a long dinner discussion about wedding bands. That's understandable, I suppose, due to the fact that Rob's getting married. Still, that wouldn't have happened a few years ago. On another occasion, a few of the guys started talking about their kids' feeding times, how many hours they sleep, and whether their wives are still pumping or not. Now that definitely wasn't a conversation at previous bachelor parties I've attended. It was different, and I liked it. When I stepped outside to call my lovely wife for a few minutes, I didn't come back to a bunch of guys telling me how whipped I am or asking me when I could pick my balls up at the cleaners. Instead, many of them went and called their wives to say hi or check on the kids. Am I officially a grown up? Yeah, I guess so, and as long as I can still mentally revert to 15 year-old Peter from time to time, that's fine by me.

Second story: I was sitting at a blackjack table and getting my ass handed to me. It's not often that when cashing out, a dealer says, "Wow, I don't think you won a single hand there." "You noticed that too?" I asked. Anyway, I switched to a new table where it was just me and a dealer. After a couple of hands, I noticed that I had the song "Big Casino" by Jimmy Eat World in my head. I like that song; it's on a cd that my friend Jon made for me, and it was surely in my head for obvious reasons. A few minutes later, that same song is being piped through the casino speakers. It was a sign, I just knew it. I put out a bigger than normal bet, and told the dealer what was going on. As he started dealing, he said, "Yeah, we play that song all the time here. It's probably in your head from hearing it an hour ago." That made it feel like less of a sign, and losing that next hand pretty much confirmed that no magic was afoot.

Third and last story: On the plane ride back, I thought I heard the flight attendant say something to a passenger during the beverage service, but I wasn't sure. A couple of rows closer, and it was confirmed: "I'm sorry, we ran out of water." I hadn't heard that one before, and I had to switch it up with only a few seconds to spare and go with apple juice instead. I noticed that they had ice, and I thought for a moment about asking for a cup of ice and just waiting for it to melt, but then I realized that that plan was, how do you say, fucking stupid.

Our friend Danielle sent my lovely wife an email, who quickly realized that it should be forwarded to me. In it, Danielle said that she was looking up season tickets for a sports team, and she happened upon this sentence: "The following optional information must be completed to qualify your entry..." Yes, my friends, the optional info must be completed. To their credit, the mandatory information is voluntary.

And lastly in this section, I heard a Beastie Boys song from my youth on the radio this morning. I've known the words to this song since going to summer camp when I was in the single digits, and it wasn't until today that one line stuck out to me. Ad Rock mentions that he has some beer, but more specifically, he has "a quart of beer." At first, I thought about only milk coming in quarts and how weird it sounded to have beer in that container size. Then I broke it down a little further and realized that it really wasn't all that odd. There have been several times that I've had two pints of beer at an establishment. Just because I haven't consolidated those into one quart-sized container doesn't mean that I haven't just imbibed a quart of beer. Hell, by that logic, I've had my share of half-gallons of beer at a time. New math is fun!

Ok, it's time put our left feet in, take our left feet out, put our left feet in, and shake them all about as we transition to the Car Watch. That, my friends, is what it's all about.

I was walking with a couple of co-workers to pick up some food, and one noticed a plate on an oncoming car that I just missed somehow. It was a little old lady driving, and the plate told us, "BE NICE." How adorable is that? Nothing like putting grandmotherly advice out there for anyone who comes near your car. (As a side note, writing "little old lady" reminded me of something. At UCSB, there was a small theatre called the Old Little Theatre, or OLT since everything had to be known by initials. The first time I saw it, I said to someone, "Wow, those adjectives aren't usually in that order." That was over a dozen years ago, and I stand by that assessment wholeheartedly.)

Long-time and loyal reader Sue sent me an email with a plate, and I was overjoyed to receive it. (That's what happens when people email me: I become happy. So basically, when you don't write me with Car Watch items or random crap, you're attempting to keep me from happiness. Just thought I'd point that out.) It said, "DEADJOB," and it was on a black sedan. It wasn't a Hearse, which would've been just too perfect, and Sue suggested that it could be a pest control worker or someone in a dead-end job. I think pest control is the leading candidate for me right now, because even though someone from a funeral parlor having that would make the most sense, it would probably jeopardize his or her business if anyone saw that. Any professions that make sense that I'm missing, gentle readers?

My dad sent me a bumper sticker that read, "Don't Knit and Drive. Knittersanonymous.com." I was intrigued by this on two levels. First, I hadn't realized that drunken knitting was a problem in our society. In Canada, sure, but not here. Second, while I know this was a joking bumper sticker, I still find it strange to have anything "anonymous" attached to a person in such a public format. Hey, check this out: I just went to their website, and they also have a "Friends Don't Let Friends Knit Drunk" sticker. It's a full-on epidemic!

Speaking of bumper stickers sold on websites, I was on the always glorious www.theonion.com, and they had a sticker that made me laugh out loud: "Honk if you have poor impulse control." I just laughed again from typing that. I think they found their audience.

Last but not least, my homey Rockabye saw a bumper sticker that made him laugh for hours straight: "Who farted?" I wish I had seen that, because I wouldn't calmly pulled up next to him or her, rolled my window down, and put my hand up apologetically. "My bad," I'd say, "my bad."

And with that, I'm out like the opposite of in. Sacky Christi's birthday is in the week between my posts, so I hope you'll all mentally wish her a happy one. As always, folks, email me at ptklein@gmail.com with whatever crosses your mindpath. I just made that phrase up and I like it already. An SNL skit and a phrase? I'm on fire. Not literally. I'll stop now. See you next week.