FUF #6

It's Friday, and it's time for McFUF to take a write out of Klein. Hmm, not doing it for you? If no one is reading, Mr. T pities the FU! Nevermind. I'm missing my pun gene today.

As always, let's check in with the vehicle report:

Sacky Christi was sitting at a stop light behind a CHP motorcycle. On the license plate frame, it read: "Relax...I could be behind you." Awesome. Thanks for sending that in, my NorCal homey.
Rockabye wrote in after seeing this bumper sticker: "Cashew Kid rides again!" Thank God, too, because I was getting very concerned about how long he'd been idle. It's cool to have a nickname, I guess, but I think I'd rather just go by my name than a diminutive nut. Rockabye also sent me a plate that said, "IDNTKNW," but I can't figure out what that's short for.

And then there's me. I was in Marina Del Rey, and a big harbor patrol vehicle was just ahead of me. In big letters on a plus-sized bumper sticker, it said, "Don't Abandon Your Baby." Please don't get me wrong, I'm 100% against people abandoning babies. However, I'm guessing that this person is preaching to the choir here. Are they hoping to catch that one person in his or her car who happens to be debating whether or not leaving a baby somewhere is the right choice? "You know, here I was driving my baby somewhere to leave her unannounced, but the harbor patrol really swayed me." I just don't see it. Again, I don't want abandoned babies either, but this strikes me as similar to a bumper sticker that announces, "Don't Put Arsenic in Your Boss's Coffee." You know, just in case you were planning on doing that this morning.

Also, I was behind an older man in a car with two things that may not have been noteworthy enough separately, but together they made me want to share. First, a license plate frame that read, "Saw It, Wanted It...Threw a Fit, Got It." That doesn't scream "older man" to me. Second, a bumper sticker that read, "Happiness is Being Married to a Dutchman!" See what I'm talking about? Somebody out there threw a fit to get a Dutchman, and now she's finally happy.

Moving on now, I wanted to write a little more about my experience as Charlie Brown in first grade. At one point in our rehearsals, my teacher instructed me to make a "disgusted face." Being in first grade though, my vocabulary wasn't quite at the same level it is now. Therefore, I thought she told me to make a "disgusting face." So there I was, throwing my hat down on the stage, making the most disgusting face I could to show my unhappiness with Snoopy. Maybe it wasn't what the teacher intended, but she never corrected me so I kept doing it. Naturally, my whole family makes the "disgusting face" from time to time. They think it's funny that I misinterpreted the teacher's direction, but I maintain that she should never have used a big word that sounded so similar to something I'd already mastered.

A couple of days ago, I wrote about how my name is in certain words (perfect, persistent, etc.). I forgot to mention that my brother Kevin can find all the letters of his first and last name in the word Kelvin. It's not often he gets to refer to absolute zero on the Kelvin scale of temperature, but there is a street named Kelvin pretty close to my house, so I think of that fairly regularly. Here are other lines I expect to hear those close to me use at some point:

My wife: Yes, I would like for you to pay me back for all of my meals at the conference. After all, you can't spell "reimbursable" without Amber.

My dad: Of course they enjoyed my speech in there; you can't spell "applause" without Paul.

My mom: Hold your horses, it'll happen at some point. You can't spell "eventually" without Elayne.

My friend: That's very flattering that you want me in your magazine. I've been told that you can't spell "studly" without Dusty.

And so it goes. "Lisa" and "sail" are anagrams of each other, I learned. This whole time, I thought the only cool thing about her name was that it looks like USA when written closely in all caps. Man was I wrong.

I told you all my favorite famous anagram, but there are more out there that always make me chuckle. Here are the best of the best (after Spiro "Grow a Penis" Agnew), in my opinion:

Ronald Wilson Reagan = Insane Anglo Warlord
Clint Eastwood = Old West Action
William Shakespeare = I'll Make a Wise Phrase
Monica Lewinsky = Nice Silky Woman
George Bush = He Bugs Gore

My dad posted a comment saying that he downloaded a trial version from www.anagramgenius.com, and I followed in his footsteps. It turns out that I'm not only an "Ink Dotted Leper," but I also apparently either "Kept Lent or Died." My buddy Scott's full name is also "Enjoy Smart Cats." My wife's full name turns into, "Milk me, alien belcher." Take out her middle name though, and she's just "Mr. Bikelane." I like it.

Ok, I'd better stop here or I'll keep going forever. This post has gotten all rambly-pambly anyway. Have a great weekend, everyone. If you want me to find out an anagram for your name because it's easier than downloading free software, email me at ptklein@gmail.com and I'll gladly do it for you. Maybe we'll find some really cool ones together for the next FUF. See you back here on Monday, gentle readers.

States and names

There was a Friends episode once in which the characters were trying to write down all 50 states and having a hard time at it. The next night, a group of us were at my friend Lisa's parents' place, and someone wanted to see how many each of us could write down. "I'd get all 50," I said. "That's what I thought," Lisa replied, "but it's harder than it sounds. I tried last night and only got 47." "No, I'd get all 50," I repeated, "because I know a song with all of the states in alphabetical order." "Oh, then I guess you would." The others all got pens and paper and I served as the answer key when all was said and done. The song has come in handy a few other times, including a board game once that asked how many states started with the letter m (8: Maine, Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana).

Why do I bring up such a nerdy and unexciting story? Because, gentle readers, the word of the day is "fifty." As in "fifty nifty United States," "Ulysses S. Grant on the $50 bill," and "Holy crap, this is Peter's 50th post on his blog!" Believe me, I'm as shocked as you are.

Here's a little story that combines many themes we've touched on in this space over the past 49 posts: As you may know, I have certain time issues. Namely, I feel like I need to be early to everything all the time. To make matters more pronounced, I am very bad at figuring out how long things take. If I were going somewhere ten minutes away, I'd usually only be five or ten minutes early. If I had stops to make though, it got progressively worse. For example, I would allot fifteen minutes EACH to getting gas, going to the ATM, and dropping off a video even though there were all near each other and near my destination. I couldn't help it, and so I'd get where I was going about 45 minutes early.

A minor digression: When my wife and I were dating, she did a very smart thing. I always arrived super early to get her because I thought there might be traffic, and she was getting tired of it. So instead of telling me what time to pick her up, she started telling me what time to leave the house. Brilliant. I fought every urge to leave earlier and actually got there when she wanted me to. (I did sometimes allow five minutes to walk the one hundred feet to my car, but then I'd sit in it until the right time.)

Back to the story - one situation in which my time issues are most prominent is when I go to a movie. Especially if it's a movie theater in a crowded place, my timing is really thrown off. I figure that it could take up to twenty minutes to find parking, then I might wait in line another half hour to get tickets and be let in (we're not talking summer blockbusters here, that would be much more extreme), etc. The predictable result is that I walk into an empty theater. I must tell you truthfully, there are few things in life that put me at ease as much as that. I can't explain it, but every time I see those empty seats and know that I'm early enough to sit wherever I want, I let out a deep breath and feel peaceful. Yes, I'm a sick man, I realize this.

What would I do during the half hour or more before the movie started? Aside from saving seats for my on-time and late friends, I'd sit peacefully and watch the pre-movie entertainment. I got to know these slides very, very well. The cycle is only so long, and so I sat through multiple viewings each time. I know that realtor must be good because he has a sailboat, I know that I can bring my ticket stub to the Elephant Bar for a free appetizer, and I certainly know all of the movie trivia.

My favorite trivia slide that I saw so many times asked me to guess which American movie titles matched their translated titles from overseas. The three titles were "Big Liar," "Dimwit Surges Forth," and "I'm Being Good Because I Want to Go Out." Of course, the answers were "Nixon," "Waterboy," and "Babe: Pig in the City," respectively. My friends would arrive, and I'd casually guess the answers, not fooling them for even a second. I don't understand why "Nixon" wasn't called "Nixon," but I'm not complaining. In fact, I've incorporated one of the titles into my vocabulary: whenever our dog is clearly trying to get us to talk her for a walk, we ask her, "Are you being good because you want to go out? Babe: Pig in the City?" So I truly do appreciate the translations. In fact, I'm going to see if I can find some good ones online. Hold on a sec.

Thanks. Taiwanfun.com tells me the following:

"My Best Friend's Wedding" = "The Bride is not Me"
"Contact" = "Rich in the Future"
"GI Jane" = "Satan Female Soldier"

Not bad, but let's see what else I can find. I went to www.geocities.com/smvgrey/Titlefun.html, and it has "Nixon" as "The Big Liar," so I'm inclined to believe them on the rest. If so:

"As Good as it Gets" = "Mr. Cat Poop"
"Boogie Nights" = "His Powerful Device Makes Him Famous"
"The Matrix" = "The Young People who Traverse Dimensions while Wearing Sunglasses"

I'm not so sure about those last two. I found another site, but I'm pretty sure they were all made up. Ah, the series of tubes that make up the internets; gotta love 'em.

And now a plea from your humble blogger: This being the 50th post tells me two important things: First, I have a lot of crap to talk about. Second, I don't have nearly enough crap to talk about. Sure, I have a list with some topics that can sustain this space for some time, and my drive to work each morning is full of blogging potential, but I'm here to ask for help. Bill Simmons of ESPN, my favorite online sports writer, has a mailbag column every so often in which he just addresses reader emails and questions. He has a following in the hundreds of thousands, though, and mine is probably closer to 8 or 9 of my friends. That said, I would love it if you folks would send ptklein@gmail.com your thoughts, questions, annoyances, bumper sticker observations, etc. whenever they arise. I might put together entire mailbag columns or I might just use them as prompts for longer posts from time to time. I'm sure there's a lot of stuff out there worth sending, and I'm sure I'll have an opinion on it all.

With that, gentle readers, I'm concluding the 50th post. Have a great Thursday, and thanks for reading.

Name freeze

Good morning, folks. Happy Friday, Happy Groundhog Day, Happy Birthday to my friend Kareem, and Happy Groundhog Day. A mini theme of the past week or so has been the world of names, and I have a lot more to say on the subject. I think about the names of things a lot, whether they're for people, places or things. For example, on my plane ride back from Miami, I realized that Chapstick is actually an anti-chapping stick. Weird. That's like putting decay-paste on your toothbrush, if you see what I mean.

Since I care a lot about names, I almost didn't start a blog because I kept staring at the blank box where I had to choose a name for it. I wanted to find something cool, catchy, and functional. Obviously I gave up on that and settled, but UOPTA has nice little ring to it. At least twice a year though, I face a blank name box and am fraught with panic. I speak of course of fantasy sports.

I don't know how many years I've been in fantasy leagues, but my friends and I have always been on the lookout for the perfect team names. Usually they're lines from movies, but not ones you'd necessarily know off hand. For example, if quoting Spaceballs, almost anyone who's seen it can quote "May the Schwartz be with you." Therefore, it's not good enough. We would rather have "Keep Firing, Assholes" as a name (especially for a basketball team with Allen Iverson on it) or "Ludicrous Speed," which I used for my baseball team one year.

See what I'm getting at here? Anyone can say "Nobody puts Baby in the corner," but how many toss out "I carried a watermelon" from the same movie? As I look through my team names over the years, some are clearly better than others. Here are a few of my favorites:

Baby Fish Mouth (When Harry Met Sally)
The Special Purpose (The Jerk)
Loud Noises (Anchorman)
Bags of Sand (The 40 Year-Old Virgin)
Long Division (Undercover Brother)
Sweep the Leg (Karate Kid)

The Frank Buckman Plan (Parenthood)
Grave Danger (A Few Good Men)

What's really fun is that when posting little trash talk messages in the leagues, these names generate nicknames. I remember signing things as "Long D," "The Special P," "BF Mouth," and simply "Bags." Upon closer inspection of the full list, it's fair to say that if Steve Martin or Will Ferrell were in a movie, there's a high probability that I'll be quoting it. I've had four different Steve Martin movies surface so far, and we had an entire Anchorman-themed league once called "The Pants Party." Quality flicks all around.

Throughout the years, I've kept lists of potential team names and waited for the right season. For example, I can't wait to use "The Stillwell Angels" for my next baseball team (from A League of Their Own). I think, rethink, and certainly overthink about these things. If I care this much about picking the perfect name for something as minor as a fantasy sports team, you can imagine how much I've thought about my future kids' names.

We got some practice when we got our dog a couple of years ago. She didn't really have a name yet, but the rescue shelter had been calling her Hope for the week that she'd been there. We didn't like that name, and so my wife and I were able to choose from anything. We were in Trader Joe's the day before we were bringing her home with us chatting about names. I said that maybe we could find a name that would commemorate the fact that we got her during our one year in Sacramento, but nothing seemed to fit (as much as Dave would've loved me having a dog named Sacky). I then suggested that since that next day was Halloween, maybe we could find something to do with that. Neither of us liked "Spooky" or anything like that, but when we came up with Hallie, we knew that was it. I realize not everything has to be a pun or have a second meaning, but we were able to accomplish all of our naming goals with that one.

For years upon years, I've had one name for a future son that I've told almost everyone about: Hello? Yes, with the question mark. Hello? Klein. Think of how cool that would be. Every single time he'd call someone on the phone, they'd say "Hello?" and he'd be like, "Yeah, what's up." Believe it or not though, my wife doesn't like that name. I know, I know, should've cleared that with her before proposing. The other boy name I like is Max. Not short for Maximilian, but Maxabillion. How sweet would that be? My wife thinks Max Klein sounds like a 70 year-old though, and I see her point I guess. But Maxabillion! I'll try to wear down her resistance on that one.

For girl names, there's one word that I think is very pretty sounding but has a slightly bad connotation: Diarrhea. It's too bad, because I think it really sounds like a pretty Shakespearean name (with a different spelling of course). "Diaria, come hither!" Damn the connotation. Even I know that's not a possible name, I'm just saying that it would be pretty if it weren't already taken by shit. The other girl name I like is Mini, short for Miniature. Miniature Klein has a great ring to it, and it's factually correct also. Honey, whaddya say? It's better than Diaria, right?

I guess we'll have to wait and see when the time comes, but I may have to start an online petition. In any case, have a fantastic weekend, gentle readers. And if you see your shadow today, say hi for me.

A little misunderstanding

Over time, almost everyone who knows me ends up calling me Pete. My family all does, and I'd say a vast majority of friends do too. It's partly laziness and people wanting to save a syllable, partly just the fact that "Hey Pete" is easy to say. I like my name, and I like the nickname of Pete, but I never introduce myself that way because I don't like how "Pete Klein" sounds. It's a little too choppy, so I go by Peter and people will eventually do as they please. Fine by me. (Naturally, Dave the Contrarian purposely introduced me to someone as "Pete Klein" after hearing my thoughts on the subject.)

That brings me to the main meat of today's post: people misunderstanding names. For example, I once wanted to try Pete on to see how it felt. So at a coffee house, I placed my order and when asked for my name, I confidently said "Pete." "Keith?" the barista asked. "No, Peeeet" I said, fully enunciating all three complex sounds in the name. After starting out 0-for-1 as Pete though, I switched back to Peter.

That hasn't been foolproof either. I was at a Jamba Juice, and when asked my name, I truthfully said "Peter." "Your name is Gator?" she asked incredulously. "No, Peter," I said, "but go ahead and leave it as Gator on there, that's fine." I was confused how someone could assume such a tough nickname for me instead of hearing an actual name first. That wasn't the only time either. I had a woman at another Jamba Juice (I blame the blender noise, by the way) ask my name, have me repeat it (which I did slowly and clearly), then have me spell it. I did, but I wasn't sure why she didn't understand me. "Oh, I thought you were saying Geter." Her co-worker chimed in and said she understood me fine, but that made two times that people mistook my P sound for a G, and I didn't even know that was possible.

The king of this form of miscommunication is hands-down my friend Greg. Nice, normal name. It started back when we were little kids and he joined a bowling league I was in. An old coach named Lou came up to him, and I'm going to switch to play-like dialogue to better capture the moment:

The scene is a bowling alley circa the mid 1980s. Two young boys stand center stage discussing the upcoming battle between Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant, and how Optimus Prime would totally kick either of their asses. Greg, a shy boy with glasses and a new bowling bag in his hand, is nervous to be entering the cut-throat world of competitive bowling but tries to appear brave and seasoned. Peter, exuding a masculinity not often seen in boys his age, stands by his friend, hoping some of his immense internal fortitude will be mystically transferred to his lifelong friend.

Lou: (enters stage left) Hello there. Say, what's your name, little feller?
Greg: (as bravely as possible) Greg.
Lou: Hi Gray, I'm Lou, nice to meet you.
Greg: (bolder yet) No, it's Greg.
Lou: Sorry, Rick, sometimes my hearing's not so good.

Peter then steps in with a boyish smile to soften his rugged good looks to clear up the confusion. He's saved the day, and the twinkle in his eye gives the audience the impression that he knows this won't be the last time the world calls upon his unlikely combination of steady-handed leadership and bedside manner. (Curtain)

Naturally, I've called Greg "Gray Rick" from time to time ever since that magical moment, and it's probably been twenty years now. Damn. In any case, that was the first of many such instances for Greg.

Of course he's gotten "Craig" from people, but that's understandable. I remember being out to dinner once and running into someone I knew. Everyone at the table introduced themselves, and the young lady repeated almost every name back correctly. "Jon, Scott, Dave, Rob, and Jack. I think I got it." "Almost, it's Greg," Greg said. "Oh, I thought you said 'Jack'," she replied. After she walked away, Greg leaned in and very seriously said, "Guys, please be honest with me. Do I have some speech impediment that I don't know about?" We told him that he didn't, and he almost seemed upset because that would've at least been an answer for him.

A couple of years ago, Greg called me to tell me that it happened again. He went to Fatburger with some of his law school friends, and they all placed their orders and gave their names. Time passed, and one by one everyone's name was called to retrieve their food...everyone except Greg, that is. He waited, thinking maybe his was just taking longer for some reason, then finally went up to the counter to see how much longer it would be. "What's you name?" the attendant asked. He told her, and she went to look for his order. She went over to one that had been sitting there for a while, checked the receipt, made a confused face, and then brought the tray over to him. "I guess this one is yours," she said as she pushed it toward him. He looked at the receipt, and where it should have read "Greg" was the made-up name "Rek." Rek!

It's gotten to the point that Greg's been toying with ideas for nicknames. Since the actor Topher Grace became popular, it's opened a new door. His name is Christopher, but he doesn't shorten it to Chris but rather Topher. Cool idea, but it takes the right kind of name to do it. Nifer wouldn't really work for Jennifer, but something like Andra for Alexandra possibly could. Would Ory work for Greg? Kinda, and it's cool sounding (like 'Quin for Juaquin), but it would still be a name that people don't immediately get.

So basically, he's screwed. Should he just wear a nametag around? I don't typically take pleasure in other people's problems, but this has been a comedic goldmine for our group of friends for so long that I'd almost hate to see it go. At the very least, it's provided us with the possibility of a Geter and Rek business together somewhere down the line.

"Names" for 200, Alex

Happy Friday, everyone. I'm delighted to once again venture into the world of names. It's a veritable goldmine of topics, so I'll certainly be back again soon. Today, I'd like to start with my name. I like it, it's a name that everyone knows so I don't have to spell it for them but isn't so common that I had to be Peter K. in elementary school. Overall, I think it has good positioning in the name popularity index.

However, there's a reason people might know the name: it's featured in an unusually high number of fairy tales. Peter Pan, Peter Piper, Peter Peter Pumpkineater, Peter Rabbit, Peter Cottontail (two rabbits!), Peter and the Wolf, the German fairy tale Struwwelpeter (translated as Shockheaded Peter), and probably many more. Seriously, that's a lot of frickin' nursery rhymes and fairy tales.

Also, in our own English language, I've come across a definition for "peter" that read "to gradually become smaller and weaker, eventually ceasing to exist" as in to "peter out." Add that to the fact that it doubles as slang for a penis and my last name meaning "small" in German, and I think you'll agree that we have a winning combination.

As a sidenote, I searched on Google last week for my name to see if UOPTA would come up. I tried different variations to help it along, like "peterklein blog." As it turns out, there's not only a .com of my name taken, but another blog on Live Journal and a guy who write for Wordpress with my name. I just hope they're funny.

Anyway, my senior year of high school, we would often eat lunch at a sandwich place called You're the Boss. I often commented that if that were the case, I'd be Tony Danza. I also had a deep desire to call them, and when they would answer the phone with, "You're the Boss!" I'd reply with, "You're fired!" Never got around to doing that though.

The shop operated as many sandwich places do: you fill out a sheet with what you want, put your name on it, they ring you up and call your name when it's ready. The first time we went in, Dusty wrote his name as Dusti with a heart over the i to be cute. It's a very long story that I may address another time, but I put my name down as Juaquin. When the order was ready, she called "my" name, and "Dusti" and I shared a little laugh. Ha ha. Like that.

A couple of days later, we went back into You're the Boss. As we opened the door, the woman behind the counter said, "Hi Dusti and Juaquin!" Oops. It appeared that I was stuck being Juaquin at that establishment until graduation or until they went out of business, whichever came first. Being a creature of habit, she started to know what I wanted without me filling out a sheet, and since the sandwiches were good, we'd go there once or twice a week. Every time, I was Juaquin, and every time she said it at least once.

I was terrified that someone from school would come in while we were there, and she'd hear them call me by my actual name. I created back-stories just in case, like how I was half-Mexican but ashamed of my heritage when I started high school so I went by my middle name there. Now I see how beautiful the culture is, so I go by my given name when I meet new people. What if she asked to see my license though? I would have to say I don't have one and pray that Dusty drove there that day in case she followed us out. (Yeah, I tend to overanalyze things at times.)

Then one day, I was almost caught. Our classmate Jason Barbanell came into You're the Boss while our sandwiches were still being made. When they were done, the lady said, "Here you go, Juaquin." "Juaquin?" Jason said, and laughed a little, knowing us well enough that it made perfect sense to him. The lady turned to me with a confused look, but I pretended I didn't see her. Then as he was leaving, Jason said, "See ya, Pete." Crap. I quickly decided that he had called me by my nickname 'Quin (pronounced "keen") and she must have misheard him. Dusti played along and called me 'Quin a couple more times before we left. It's actually a pretty cool nickname, and if I could find a way to make that short for Peter, I'd think about using it again.

Gradually, we shifted away from You're the Boss (You're fired!) and toward Del Taco. It was a lot less expensive, almost just as close, and fortunately for my nerves, they never asked my name. Have a great weekend everyone.