I consolidated the stories about Fred.

HILL BLOCKS VIEW IS DEAD.

...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

Thursday, January 31, 2013

I think I Just Solved My Money Problems.

Honey, our money problems are over.
Did you borrow money from your parents?
Nah, they're charging like 25 percent, compounded daily. And last time, I fell behind, and they sent over Guido to adjust my kneecaps.
I remember. I kinda miss Uncle Guido. I wonder what he's up to these days?
I don't know, I don't care. Guido's a jerk.
I understand you're upset. But he is your uncle, and he made the best cannolis.
He hit me with a tire iron!
I realize that. I'm sorry. So how did you solve our money problems?
I took out a "loan" from work.
What are you doing with your fingers? Did you just air quote, loan?


"Yes."
Did you just air quote, yes?
"Ye...
Knock it off!
Sorry.
So you took out a loan from work? How long do you have to pay it back.
I never have to pay it back. 'Cause I didn't take out a loan from work, I took out a "loan."
If you finger quote one more time, I'm going to finger quote you, right in the eyes.
Got it.
Now what did you do?
"I...
Without finger quotes.
I stole the cash box from my work.
Did anyone see you?
Probably. I took it at gunpoint.
Uhm...
Oh, don't worry. I wore a disguise.
I guess that's something.
Yeah. Sunglasses and a hat.
You wear that everyday.
Yeah, but I also wore this fake mustache.
That's just some fuzz.
It's a John Waters model.

That doesn't disguise you at all. It looks like you, with a piece of yarn on your upper lip.
But "I" would never wear something like this. OW! That hurt, I can barely see.
I warned you. So you took the cash box. Then what?
I jumped in my get away car and raced home.
And by your "get away car," great, now you've got me doing it. By, your get away car, do you mean your company van?
Eh...
The one you drive every day, that you take home every night, that the company gave you. That van?!
Uh... yes?
Amazing plan.
Thank you.
Amazingly stupid. Stupid.
That was uncalled for. Words hurt, you know.
No. That was exactly called for. And another thing, I didn't know your company had large amounts of cash laying around.
Oh yeah, we have this lockbox that we use to make change or to buy office supplies with.
The petty cash box. You stole the petty cash?!
I guess. I stole the only cash box we had.

The PETTY cash box.
Does petty mean an incredibly large amount, by any chance?
No. Insignificant. Small. Not substantial. Those would all be more accurate descriptions.
Damn. I'd better look.
You'd better hurry, I'm sure the local police will be paying us a social visit shortly.
Wow! Look at all that! You were totally wrong.
Those are mostly ones, you moron! There's like fifty bucks there.
We're rich!
No. We're the opposite of rich.
Unrich?
Poor, you moron! This is only enough money for one tank of gas, and now you're going to jail.
They'll never catch me. I'll make a run for the border.
I think the fifty cops on our lawns might beg to differ.
As long as I have you, I'm rich. Will you wait for me to get out of prison?
I might not wait for you to get out of the room. That SWAT guy with the sledge hammer isn't wearing a ring, and he's a looker.








Saturday, January 26, 2013

What THEY Don't Want You To Know About Inspirational Quotes.


Dance like no one is watching.
Unless you are into interpretative dance, and you like to dance in your tighty whiteys and you are at a wedding for your cousin twice removed at the local country club. Then you should just act like people, and possibly the authorities, are watching.





If you love somebody set them free. If they come back it was meant to be, if they don't they were never yours to begin with.
Although... There is a thing called the Stockholm Syndrome, so if you keep them hostage long enough, they could come to sympathize with your plight and become emotionally invested in your future and fall in love with you, (your chances are better if you have some grand sounding mission statement), and that could work out also. I'm just sayin'. And if not you could collect a ransom for them and then you would be rich and infinitely more attractive to the opposite sex and you could retire to a tropical paradise with a sexy gold digger, and that's nearly as good.





This picture doesn't go with the text, but I can't resist giving some love to my favorite vampire movie. 

Until you love the person in the mirror, you can never truly love anybody else.
This is terrible advice for Vampires; they don't have reflections. If you are a vampire you should just forgo the whole mirror thing and just love people. Except for the people you eat. You probably shouldn't love them. That would be awkward. It would be like when I say I love beer, but my beer had emotions and reciprocated my feelings of affection and then I ripped off it's head and drained it's lifeblood. I would feel weird after that. Also, in this modern age you probably don't really need mirrors, you could just watch yourself on streaming video and that's almost as good. The point is, you should just love yourself. And others. Unless you plan on consuming them.





I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.
If you are trying to do something unbelievably complex like building a time machine or curing cancer or solving pi to infinity, this is an admiral quote. If not, you have definitely failed... BIG TIME. Perhaps it's just not meant to be for you. You should just give up. I mean, ten thousand times?! Wow! That is a lot of failing. You are just a big bundle of fail. They will probably name a church after you in the future; Our Lad Of Perpetual Failure. Face it: you suck. Of all the people who have lived and failed in the entirety of human history, you are the fail-iest. Even a really big failure, will have failed; what like a thousand times? Two thousand maybe? Three thousand tops. But ten thousand? Holy crap! I mean what the hell were you thinking?! Have you always been this bad at stuff? You should just go to your local hospital and volunteer to be put in a medical coma, to stop you from failing anymore. (Providing you could even find it, Mr Failey.)

Be sure to join us next time, when we delve into the Road Less Travelled. Spoiler Alert: two words; pungi pits. 

Wednesday, January 2, 2013