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.