Breaking ground

Before I get to anything else, you may be wondering what I'm going to write about Nick Nolte today that warrants his infamous mug shot as the picture of the day. Absolutely nothing. It's just a fantastic picture. I hope it brightens your day, if for no other reason than you look better than that right now. You have to.

A few weeks ago, a guy who regularly comes into the office to sell snacks was here with an assortment of holiday cookie tins. My boss asked if I wanted one, and I said I did, but only to give back to him as a Christmas present on some undisclosed date when he's forgotten about it. He thought that was a funny idea and proceeded to buy a tin for me/him. I went online and bought him a t-shirt from Ampu Tees (great name) for Festivus so he would get something that he didn't buy himself. It lists the three important aspects of Festivus (the pole, the feats of strength, and the airing of grievances) and I think he'll appreciate it. Anyway, I decided that today would be the day to give him his two presents. So when I arrived this morning (about an hour before anyone else gets here, which enables me to do things like write words on a weblog), I looked around for the wrapping paper. Then the light bulb went off.

We have a client who had provided us with 17 boxes full of bikini-clad girly wall calendars. The thought was that they would be a giveaway as part of a campaign, but as 2006's end drew nearer, we realized that it didn't make that much sense anymore. I've been asking him for months if I can throw the calendars away but have never gotten a straight answer. With about 2 weeks left of 2006, I took it upon myself to wrap his tin of cookies and his t-shirt in pages from the calendars. The lady on June's page has one hell of an ass, so that's on the top of the gift naturally. He'll be in soon and surely get a kick out of that. I just hope he's forgotten about the tin he bought.

As I was wrapping the presents, I thought to myself, "This is the first time I've used nearly-naked women on calendar pages to wrap a gift for someone that he purchased for himself while I'm wearing a tie. I wonder if anyone has ever done that combination of things before." That, in essence, is today's topic: Doing things for the first time in the history of mankind. I know, that's a very high bar, but it may be easier than you think.

Years ago, Dusty and I were driving from New Mexico to Los Angeles. One of us said something strange, then followed with, "Wow, I don't think I've ever said that sentence before." We spent the next few hours trying to come up with phrases that had possibly never been uttered. Ever. For example, "Me think big woman go far far chopsticks, you silly James Worthy rabbit." Is it nonsense? Absolutely. But was it the first time since the creation of the English language that those words were put together in that order? Probably, and that's awesome. We created something unique in the universe, and we were proud of that. Mock away, gentle reader, but I'd like to know what you've done recently that has never been done in the history of mankind.

Now I know some of you might think it's easy to string nonsense together to form a unique sentence, and you've got a point. So I'm going to attempt right now to create a logical, grammatically correct sentence that has never been created before. "Please pardon the shit stains on my face and neck, Mr. President, but one can only open so many Jell-O Pudding Cups with his teeth before he's bound to run into one filled with feces." Booyah Kasha!

Have a unique and strangely-fulfilling day.

Numb skull

And numb mouth to match. Not even Rick Monday could save me from this Monday (and he's good at saving things too). At 7:00 in the morning, I went back to the dentist this morning for my cleaning and filling. As I wrote to my wife, "I had a Russian woman dentist with the beside manner of...a Russian woman." She barked things out to me throughout the procedure as if she were in charge of this mission and she'd be damned if some kid from America was going to blow it for her. "Head down." "Bite!" "Open more!" "Floss better." Since she passed dental school, I'm pretty sure she has the ability to say more than two words at a time, but after an hour with her, I can't say for sure. I'm having some oatmeal now, but I still feel like I have three cheeks on top of each other on the right side of my face. Let's hope this wears off by the time I want to eat actual food.

So, we went to Twilight's birthday party with the karaoke aspects I'd been worrying about. As it turns out, the singing set up was different than I'd imagined, and we're all happier for it. Instead of one person with a mic up at the front of the room, there were three mics being passed around the seated guests. This led to a lot of group songs and less of the pressure I'd put on myself. "Piano Man" by Billy Joel was a big hit, with tipsy folk belting it out loud and proud. I sang along on a few, but only truly co-starred in one. First, allow me to set the scene a little more. I would estimate that 80% was gay. Therefore, almost the entire Rent soundtrack got played (including one duet twice in a row for some reason - there was almost a gay-off to decide who was better). So when time came for me to "straight it up", my fellow breeder Dusty and I performed a lovely duet of Dr. Dre's "Gin and Juice." Nothing changes the flow of a party quite like "We gonna smoke an ounce of this/G's up, ho's down while you muthafuckers bounce to this" and "So turn out the lights and close the door/But for what? We don't love them ho's." We yelled "Bee-otch" a few times when the screen told us to, and Dusty took the liberty of changing "Compton" to "Encino" in one of the lines.

After the applause died down, one of the party guests announced that there was too much misogyny in that song and that the party needed a change. Naturally, she opted for a Dixie Chicks song about killing a man who either abused or sexually assaulted the protagonist. I didn't hear all of the lyrics, but I'm sure it undid the ill will that the Straight Posse brought to the party. Final score: Murder 1, Bee-otch 0.

Wimpiest sentence I've written all month: I'm sore from playing Nintendo. Dave bought the Nintendo Wii, and after swinging the controller violently to mimic the motions in the tennis, golf, baseball, and bowling games, my body thinks I actually played them. On one hand, it's really cool to have the system work like that. I actually was doing front-hands and back-hands in the tennis game to hit the ball. On the other, when I play a video game, it's not because I want exercise. I want a system so I can sit and be mentally stimulated for a while, not stand and work out. It's a cool system, and I definitely want to see what it's like with other games, but it's not one I walked away from saying "I have to have that."

I just dug my fingernail into my gums, and I officially have some feeling back now. I probably should've tried that a different way that wouldn't result in pain. Live and learn, eh?

Time to do actual work now. Sucky. Good luck with the rest of the Monday, everyone.

Banana fana fo

Today is my friend Twilight's birthday (and as I found out while sorting through e-cards this morning, it's also Imagine Day to honor the brilliance of John Lennon on the anniversary of his murder). Whenever I first mention Twilight to people, their first question is, "Is that her real name?" Yes it is. Her last name was Schroeder when I met her, and that never seemed to fit well to me. The first name is a soft, hippie-ish name that conjures up images of nature, while the last name was a more abrasive German name that makes me think up images of harsh winters, animal pelts, metal mugs, and barely adequate heat output from a wood-burning oven. Solid name though.

Anyway, before Twilight married our good friend Dave, she was debating whether to take his last name of Robin or stick with Schroeder. I thought those two names matched up a lot better than the original two, but she was worried that Twilight Robin sounded like a porn star. "It doesn't sound like a porn star," I reassured her. "Much more like a porn actress still working her way up the ranks."

As the wedding date got closer, she decided that she would make the change and is now pleased with the decision. I think it sounds cool, and hope to actually spot a robin in the twilight sometime so I can comment on it and make everyone bust up laughing. (Yes, in my version of the story, that joke would bring the house down. Don't bring logic to my fantasy world.)

So in thinking about Twilight Robin on her birthday, I got to thinking about when we used to create our own porn names and soap opera names from tried and true formulas passed down from generation to generation. I'm certain that there are variations, but here's what I remember:

(Name of family pet) + (Mother's maiden name) = Porn Name

and

(Middle name) + (Street you have lived on) = Soap Opera Name

I think people should be allowed to choose what pet name and what street name sound best rather than limiting it to "first pet" or "street you grew up on." Therefore, you would be able to catch me in "Busty Cheerleaders 7" as Snowball Eisenberg. That rocks. Similarly, I'll be starring on the telenovela "Se Prohibe Amar" as Todd Gaviota. Or Todd Figueroa. Or Todd Camino del Sur. I hope to meet someone someday whose soap opera name would be Frank Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard.

My friend Greg's porn name would be Bootsy Feldman, while Dusty would be Snappy Young. I think my friend Scott would be Fonzie Horowitz, but I have to double check that. Regardless, I'm glad I thought of this today - it had been too long since I thought of my friends having sex on film for money. Thanks, Twilight!

Have a great weekend everybody.

Molar Imperatives

I have a dentist appointment in about an hour, and it's not my favorite thing in the world. It's always better than I remember though. I was reminded of this fact by myself a few years ago. Allow me to explain: I got a postcard in the mail from my dentist telling me that it had been six months and I needed to call to schedule another cleaning. On the postcard, in my handwriting, it read, "It's actually not that bad! Love, You." I was confused at first, but then remembered the dentist asking me to write my address on that postcard before I left the previous appointment. I guess I took that opportunity to tell Future Peter that he should just suck it up and go. And you know what? It worked; I set up another cleaning.

This time is different though. This time it's a new dentist, and it's been a lot longer between cleanings than it should. Like four times as long. Sorry Mom. But I'm a big boy, so I'm gonna go in there, act like a man, and take whatever the doc's got for me. My wife tells me that today will probably just be x-rays and a "consultation" and that I'll be scheduling a cleaning for later. That's good and bad news. On one hand, I won't be upset to get in and out with as little scraping and spitting as possible. On the other, that means I'll need to psych myself up for another one of these visits very soon.

As I'm sure is the case with almost everyone, going to the dentist reminds me Advance Placement U.S. Government in high school. What? I'm alone in this? Weird. Here's a long and unimportant story as to why:

I enjoyed certain aspects of high school. I was never one of those kids who celebrated like he won the World Series when the final bell rang on the last day of the year. I liked seeing my friends every day, and nerdy as it sounds, I enjoyed the learning process that took place in some of my classes. My classes though, even the ones I liked most, were often a little less stimulating than I needed. So my friend Dusty and I would often come up with ways to make things a little more interesting to us, and I know how lame this is going to sound even before I type it. We'd make little games up to occupy our minds.

One such game involved little gestures for everytime certain students' names were said aloud. (Sidenote: There's a wonderful, all-time great story about this in a Spanish class that I'll hopefully get to address at a later date. It deserves its own post because it's stuck with all of us to this day.) These actions weren't meant to be distractions or for anyone else to notice, but rather a way for Dusty and me to add a more interactive element to the class. For example, there was one student who would very haughtily take off his glasses with one hand before making a point, as if to emphasize how very intellingent he was. So everytime anyone said his name aloud in the class, Dusty and I would casually scratch one temple or loosely mimic his defining action. Our friend Scott was on the varsity basketball team, so his name made us lightly tap the desk in reference to dribbling a ball. Yes, I know, we were such bad asses. The most convoluted of these actions (and we probably got to about 20 of them in the class of 30ish) was for a quieter guy named Dennis. Dusty asked me what we should do for his name, and I glanced at my watch. Why? Because Dennis sounds a little like "dentist", and according to the old and stupid joke, one goes to the dentist at 2:30 since it sounds like "tooth-hurty." He agreed, and from that day on until the end of our illustrious high school careers, I checked the time every time Dennis' name was uttered.

I t0ld you it was a lame story. Regardless, I think of that whenever I'm going to the dentist. Maybe you will too now, memory stealer.

UPDATE: Some good news, some not-as-good. The dentist was very nice, and he not only complimented my oral hygeine and understanding of what one must do to have a healthy mouth, but he was very taken by my philosophy on golf ("Yes, it's frustrating, but it's a beautiful place to be frustrated."). The not-as-good news is that I have to go back Monday morning for the cleaning, so I wasn't able to get it all done at once. Also, I have a small cavity that needs a filling (insert sexual joke here). So, even though I have to go in again and will require some unenjoyable drilling, at least the people are nice.

I somehow forgot to mention it earlier, but my mom's been told by her dentist that she has "perfect home dental hygeine." I know this verbatim because she's very proud of that, and rightfully so. But has her dentist ever complimented her on how she perceives the game of golf? We'll call it a draw.

Auto-followers

I admit that I'm somewhat of a word nerd (have ya heard?), which will come as no surprise to those who know me. I dabble in puns and have a hard time holding them back, regardless of how cringe-inducing they may be. I'm also fascinated by language and its oddities. I think about things, get stuck thinking about them, then subject my friends and relatives to these (usually completely unimportant) ruminations.

There is one language train of thought though that has captured people's interest much more than any other: Auto-followers. I don't remember exactly how or when this started, but the basic premise is that there are certain words that are only used to preceed other specific words. That is, they have "auto-followers" after being uttered. (Sidenote: Somewhere along the process, we incorrectly started referring to the first words as "auto-followers", and even though that doesn't make sense, tradition trumps accuracy in this case. I don't say that often, trust me.) Every once in a while, a friend will ask me to call upon the list of auto-followers (AFs from here on out) and I have a hard time remembering more than two or three. It's been a group effort from the onset, but I'm taking the lead and using this space to officially get the AFs down somewhere for future reference.

One of the best examples, and possibly the one that started the whole trend, is "scantily." The beauty of true AFs is that I don't need to tell you what word comes after it. I can't even think of an example of how else is could be used, even though it never is. "The hole in the ground was scantily covered by leaves" is the closest I can come up with right now, but even that sounds pretty off to me.

I will call "scantily" a Class 1 AF, meaning the truest of the true to me and those who have discussed this lingual phenomenon with me. Class 2 AFs would be ones that definitely lead you to a thematic answer, but the actual word could change. For example, I normally think of "torrential" as a Class 1 AF, but I've had people reply with both "downpour" and simply "rain." Even though it's clearly "downpour" to me, my family, and several friends, since not everyone replies with that, I'm making it a Class 2. Same family of response, but not the same exact word.

Another Class 2 AF is "noxious." Again, I thought this was a Class 1 until a few people replied with "odors" instead of my automatic "fumes" response. Definitely the same idea, but not universal enough for the lofty Class 1 status.

Here is a short list of AFs that I believe to be Class 1:

Scantily
Furtive
Hermetically
Crotchless
Furrowed
Corrugated

(Another sidenote: My friend Dave likes to be the contrarian of the group at times, so when asked about "crotchless" years ago in college, he replied, "Roommate!" and pointed to our roommate Greg. I don't think that's enough evidence to warrant a Class 2 ranking.)

AFs are hard to come by. People often think they've found one, only to be rebuffed at their first attempt to elicit a response. For example, "pearly" seems good on the surface. People usually think of a word immediately, but that word could be either "white" or "gates." Since those words aren't related, I think that takes "pearly" out of the discussion completely.

The rest of the ones accumulated over the years are not yet classified. Some I believe to be quite true, but I need more input before being more certain. If anyone's reading this, please comment on what you think about the listed ones, add your own if you think of any, and let the fun with words begin.

Categorically
Supple (if not for "Pinball Wizard" by The Who, I think we'd have a Class 1 here)
Vehicular (I'm sure in legalese there are several uses for that word, but I think of one)
Mitigating
Irreparable
Duly

Have at it, gentle readers.

A talking muffin!

My boss told me a joke a few months ago: "Two muffins are in an oven. One says, 'Hey, is it hot in here?' And the other says, 'Holy crap, a talking muffin!'" Granted, that's not a very funny joke. However, it's impacted my life: since then, I can't say "Holy crap!" without wanting to follow it up with "a talking muffin!" Needless to say, that phrase popped into my head many, many times as I watched UCLA beat USC on Saturday. Not only was that the biggest football win for the Bruins in years while it simultaneously destroyed the hopes of their arch rival, but I called it on Friday in this space. Even as I was typing it, I thought, "Uh oh, you probably can't go back and edit this post afterwards without being a coward and sticking to your guns." Since UCLA won though, I didn't have to reach that moral crossroads.

It was a great sports day for me on Saturday. I went to the football-less UCSB, but I've always been a fan of UCLA since my mom, aunt, uncle, two cousins, mother-in-law, and father-in-law went there. Even if the Trojans win the next three national championships and the Bruins suck those years, they'll always be able to point to "that time when..."
And then, watching my Lakers beat up on the suddenly hapless Clippers topped it all off. It's a very rare day indeed when I'm on the right side of two LA-LA rivalries.

So yes, you may now revel in my truly special pre-cog ability.

More later, I hope.

Beating the odds

Another entry into the blogosphere. In the biggest upset since UCLA spoiling the Trojans shot at another national championship, I'm here with more musings. (By the way, that football game is tomorrow, so feel free to reflect upon my sports pre-cog ability as something "truly special.")

Here's what's on my mind right now: My friend Twilight is having a birthday party in a week. They're apparently making karaoke a component of the party and have asked people for requests of what they'd like to see on the song menu. I've done karaoke four times in my life. Three of them were pretty standard:

• I sang "Paperback Writer" by the Beatles with a friend at a bar mitzvah when I was 13


• "When Doves Cry" by Prince with my buddy Scott at a Sweet Sixteen when I was 16


• A loungy version of "Like a Virgin" with my brother when I was probably 20 for an audience of maybe 5 people

The fourth was not so standard, and since I had the most fun with it and got better reviews, it's skewed the way I've viewed karaoke ever since. My friend Jon and I (notice I never do this alone) sang "Burning Down the House" in gibberish. All made up words except for "burning down the house" and "fight fire with fire." It was great - the confused looks from people who couldn't understand what we were doing ("The words are right there on the screen!") were priceless. Sure, I sounded a bit like the Swedish Chef, but whose gibberish doesn't?

(Sidenote: Should I be capitalizing 'gibberish'? I know it's a made up language, but it's still a language. Does one write 'Pig Latin'? Probably, because 'latin' looks weird. I'm starting a movement on this. Plenty of good seats still available on the bandwagon.)

So here are my options: I can either skip the karaoke part all together - the leader in the clubhouse right now - and just watch others ham it up, find a good and funny song that I can "sing" normally without having to have any kind of singing voice, or find a song that I can do something special with like the BDtH example.

Option 2 is slightly difficult. I can maybe get my one of my friends to sing "If I Had $1,000,000" by Barenaked Ladies with me. I could sing "Punkrock Girl" by the Dead Milkmen quite easily. Or...nope, that's all I've got right now.

Option 3 is super difficult. I don't want to do BDtH again, even though I have some ideas on how to make it better (i.e. audience participation). I could do a stalker version of Richard Marx's "Right Here Waiting" to leave everyone with that creepy feeling. Nothing evokes that better that saying "I will be right here waiting for you" with a clenched jaw and wide eyes. That would get old a third of the way through it though.

That's where I am right now. Mentally. Physically, I'm at work and have to start doing actual work. Messed up priorities, I know. So, I'd ask for advice, but that would require people reading this...that's a tricky one. Well, they don't call me Balls-Out Natalie for nothing. Any advice?