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

Monday, November 24, 2014

The Great Thing About Facebook.


My whole life I have been, what you might call, socially awkward. Or more accurately, socially inept. Although, people rarely use those phrases. Dork, nerd, spaz, weirdo, and freak, were more common. I just have a hard time fitting in. I am aware of my failings, but am powerless to change.
   The thing is, I can almost appear normal in a one on one conversation. I don't look at your face while we talk, and I often talk about myself, or my own interests more than I should, but still, almost normal. But the more people you add to a conversation, the odder I come off. I don't know when to jump into the flow of a conversation, so I will stay uncomfortably silent for long periods of time and then blurt out meaningless factoids or unrelated opinions.
   And then came Facebook, Twitter, Google+, and the like. And my life totally changed. Now instead of only the people in my direct vicinity being aware that I am incapable of human interaction, I broadcast it to the whole world.

Sorry world. I'm not trying to be a douche. 

Thursday, November 13, 2014

That's How They Do It In The Movies.

Come in. Please sit down. No. On a chair.
Sorry, I get nervous.
People sit on chairs, not on the floor.
I know, it's just that you look mad. And I get nervous. I think I pee'd a little.
Gross! I am a little mad. Do you know why?
Spam?
What?!
Your inbox is full of spam every morning and you just can't take it anymore. That's why you are mad.
No, it's you.
I don't have a problem with spam, I have a pretty good internet filter, and I...
SHUT UP! You're my problem.
Oh no ma'am, I'm not sending you any spam, I promise.
Screw spam. I'm not thinking about spam, I'm not worried about spam, I'm not mad about spam. I'm upset with you. As an employee.
Oh.
How long have you worked here?
Uh, two months.
Do you know why I hired you?
Because I am qualified. In fact I'm over qualified.
Hmm, no. You admitted in your interview that you're afraid of water and once accidentally set yourself on fire. Terrible traits in a plumber.
My sparkling personality.
You sparkle like a turd, and you have the personality of a used teabag.
My intelligence?
You couldn't get out of the office the first day. You were trying to push on a pull door.
That happens to everybody.
Yes, but most people figure it out after several seconds. Most people don't call 911 and claim they are being held against their will.
That was embarrassing.
For both of us. You're obviously not going to guess, so I'll tell you why you I hired you. Because you begged, and begged, and pleaded, and groveled, and and you had tears rolling down your face and you were all red and blotchy and you had giant snot bubbles coming out of your nose...
In the manliest way possible.
What?!
I was groveling in the manliest way possible.
I've seen manlier kindergarten girls having a tea party. Seriously.
Some of those kids are pretty tough.
...with snot bubbles coming out of your nose, like a little baby, you got down on your knees and pleaded and said you would be a good worker and that you needed a job because you needed money for beer and that you were afraid of being homeless and on the streets because you are not a strong man and that your were afraid the other transients were going to make you their hobo wife. And I hired you because I figured anybody this desperate would be concerned with doing a good job.
I am concerned with doing a good job.
You have a funny way of showing it.
In all fairness, there wasn't really much real work to do today. It was mostly busy work. 
I understand. Every business has days like that. So what did we ask you to do?
Wash the company vehicles.
...And?
I washed the vehicles.
Is that what you call that little display?
What else would it be called? I washed the vehicles. Twice. I wasn't satisfied with how clean they came out the first time. I asked you if I could do it again. I thought you would admire the fact that I was a perfectionist.
I was impressed. And when you asked to get your car washing gear from home, during your lunch break, I agreed.
I'm more comfortable with the stuff I use to wash my own cars with.
That sounds reasonable.
So after lunch, I washed the vehicles again. They came out great! Have you seen them?
No, I haven't had a chance yet.
They're really clean.
I haven't had a chance to see them yet, because I've been on the phone with the cops, and the businesses next door, and the neighbors, and TV news crews, for the last several hours.
Do they want me to wash their cars as well?
NO! Well creepy old man Cronce did, but he's just a perv. No. They are upset about the show.
What show?
Whatever that was you were doing in the parking lot!
I was just washing cars. Is it against the law to wash cars?
It is the way you did it. Who taught you how to wash cars like that?
Every music video, TV show, and movie, for the last 30 years.
Oh my G... You are a very stupid man.
That's not what my horoscope says.
I guess that does explain why you were washing the cars while blaring Cherry Pie by Warrant and Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard. I'm still not entirely sure how you managed to move in slow motion, though.





That's just how it's done. If it's really important, play loud music and move in slow motion.
Those are just montages. Not instructional videos. Those are just images designed to make horny teenagers, hornier.
I don't know, I've watched a lot of TV and movies in my day. And I've never seen a car get washed by somebody that wasn't in a bikini.
Did it ever occur to you that, that isn't reality?
How could they show something that wasn't true? That's unpossible. 
I... You... ARGH!!! Your stupidity is so dense and so immense, that I frankly can't believe that you haven't triggered entropy, and sucked the entire universe into a black hole of your dumbness.
Huh?
Did you ever notice in the videos of the people washing the cars, that the people washing the cars in said bikinis, were in fact young, nubile, well endowed women, of the female persuasion, and not in fact bald middle aged men?
Really?
Yes. Really. Every single time. Not one middle aged guy. Not one.
Well, that's kinda sexist, don't you think? 
No it's socially accepted societal norms. Men don't wear bikinis. Women do.
So, only women can wash cars?
NO! Only women can wear bikinis!
I'm confused. Cars are getting washed, so somebody is wearing bikinis. 
GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

I Fear I've Been Gone Too Long.

How to begin?
How about; sometimes fears are justified.
   My old house isn't selling, California is twice as expensive, I make less money than before, I'm living with in-laws, and I haven't written in four months. The jury is out on me turning into my father, and/or ruining my children. When I catch Ebola, I'll have completed the fear trifecta. (I know I listed more than three things, but octo-fecta isn't a thing. Stop being so literal.)
   I'm guess the only solution is to stay fantastically drunk. Although that might actually cause several of my other fears to manifest, I will be too bombed to care.

So here's to my fears, 
I'll drown 'em with beers. 
It's time to draw and write
and get on with life.


This is still not what I imagined as the personification of facing my fears, but it's closer than the last one.


I'm afraid you're stuck with me.