I consolidated the stories about Fred.


...long live, Hill Blocks View. I miss writing. But the thought of one more round of "welcome backs", or obsessing over stats, or thinking of the clever response to a comment, or the obligation to read everyone else's blog... not so much. So I'll try and write. No pressure. If you feel the need to respond, you can email me. I like email. flipaul@yahoo.com

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Black Friday, Inappropriate Cat Names, And Dream Blogging. Or, The Unfunniest Post Ever.

Woohoo, Black Friday is here! Black Friday is here! I love Black Friday! It's my favorite holiday of the whole year. You can have your Thanksgiving, with it's quaint family time and outdated sense of gratitude. You can have your Christmas with it's spiritual significance and glow of the transcendent warmth of the human spirit. Your Independence Day, Veterans Day, Memorial Day and Labor Day and the patriotic love of country all the oddly specific fashion rules that accompany them.

   For me, it's all about the Black Friday. Yessiree, I Love Black Friday. Not so much for the super-duper deals that accompany them. Or even for the opportunity to purchase gifts for my loved ones, heck, I don't even like my loved ones.
   For me Black Friday is all about lines. Long, long lines. Unmoving lines of crazy unwashed shoppers. Angry sardine-ish lines of consumers waiting for dubious deals on electronics and socks. And now I don't have to wait for Friday! I can wait in line, on Thursday. Insane lines of Wal-Mart people...
   Man, is this NOT funny. Whoo, line after line of unfunniness. This is what happens when you have an idea and try and flesh it out and it doesn't work. The original thought was, "Man if you loved lines, Black Friday would be heaven." But, wow! Did I fail at bringing that to life. I'm sure lots of people will think that I am making some grand statement on the evils of consumerism and greed. But I wasn't. Just an odd thought that crashed and burned.

   Well, while I'm not being funny, I will share some other odd thoughts with you. We bought a little black kitty at the shelter yesterday. We already have a Cat, but we were walking past the shelter window, which our town has wisely placed in the mall, and my family gave a collective "ahhhhh," at the group of cute kittens in the window. We ended up bringing a little black kitten home, partially because black cats have a low adoption rate, and partially because I just liked her.

   After I got her home, we started coming up with names for the new cat. Shade (that was mine) didn't seem to fit. Panther, Sneaker, and Julie were passed on. Then this morning my oldest son said, "Hey, let's name the cat,  Friday. We bought her on Black Friday and she's black. It's perfect." But the thing is; can you name a black animal Friday, in this day and age? I just don't think you can. I'm sure most people haven't even read Robinson Crusoe, but somebody will have and think that you are, at the very least, racially insensitive. So I guess the cat will be named Pepper, or Slinky or something.

   Also, also. I keep having these dreams in which I come up with some brilliant idea for a blog-post. Several months ago I dreamed that it would be hilarious if I wrote about how, in revenge for Egypt being so high and mighty about how they domesticated the cat, the whole world rose up and said, "Oh yeah? You're not going to think you're so clever when we return the cats to you." And the whole world started giving Egypt back all the cats in the world, dropping cats out of bombers and firing them out of cannons and throwing them like grenades. It was so funny, picturing all these little kittens blanketing Egypt with their cuteness. It wasn't nearly as funny, or feasible, when I awoke.

   Then last night I had another one. I decided it would be funny if I started wearing little ceramic stag heads on a necklace and wrote about it. Little miniature versions of mounted, stuffed dear heads that hunters are so found of. But the funny thing is that I wasn't going to wear them all thugish like the bangers do. No; I was going to play it straight. Nice, clean ceramic deer heads on a sedate wood necklace. None of this garish fat gold chains and funky tagger lettering, and the deer wearing sunglasses that the gangsters are so fond of.  How is this even a blog post?! But in my dream, it was the best one ever. My subconscious is even morer weirder, and lesser funnier than the awake me is.

   Maybe I'll attempt the Black Friday thing again tomorrow. I'll try it in my tried and true, fake dialog. It won't be funny either.

Also, also, also, I am writing as Sloth over at Sinquiry. Where you can go and ask the cardinal sins for advice. It's kind of like The Screwtape Letters, but less Oxford educated. And spiritual. And more profane, I imagine. I won't be profane, I'm still PG. And you really shouldn't ask sins for advice, that's just wrong.  But, here's the link, http://sinquiry.blogspot.com. Don't say I didn't warn you.