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

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Nutritionist To The Rich And Famous.


*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that.



Because I am slender, people will frequently ask if they can buy some meth off of me. When I tell them that I don't actually use meth, they frequently pull a gun on me, and demand that I produce, said meth. (After all, I live in Albuquerque, the celebrated meth paradise of AMC's Breaking Bad.) Seven times out of ten, I don't get pistol whipped, and the conversation invariably turns to my diet regimen. After enduring countless inquiries on my caloric intake, I decided to publish my diet. One, because I believe in helping your fellow man, and two, to make some sweet cash. Here is my diet in a nutshell, please send money. Which I may or may not use to buy beer with.
   1) Breakfast: Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Make sure to have a balanced diet of coffee. Unless you're on vacation, then a beer is a suitable substitute. A beer is also OK on an extended weekend. Or a regular one. Or if you don't have anything particularly pressing to do at work that day. Mondays. Mondays are almost always an acceptable day for beer breakfasts. But for goodness sake don't skip breakfast, 'cause it's like really important or something.
   2) Lunch: I prefer to eat healthy for lunch. Usually I just have a beer or two, and a stick of gum. The beers are for me, the gum is for my customers. You should save the gum for after the beers, otherwise it defeats the purpose. And since gum has almost NO calories, you can probably afford another beer.
   3) Dinner: At this point you should have some actual solid food.  A day old pizza or a Taco Bell burrito or a cigarette. AND THEN a beer. You don't want to deprive yourself, that's when you fall off the wagon. And the key to my diet, is rewarding yourself for making sensible diet decisions. But mostly beer.
   4) Dessert: I don't know... try a beer.


*In all likelihood your liver will decide to relocate to a less toxic location, say Chernobyl. To combat this, question your liver's manhood and call it a bi-atch. That almost always works. If not, have a beer and sign up for an organ transplant. At least you'll be thin.

Monday, April 15, 2013

Motivational Speaker.


*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that.



Anthony Robbins has an enormous solid gold statue of an otter having sex with a bald eagle. And that's just wrong. BUT, it just goes to show how stupidly wealthy he has gotten, by giving pep talks to business types. And there are way more companies than there are Anthony Robbins. I think I found a niche that needs filled.
   The only problem is; I don't know the first thing about business, (as is well documented in this blog) and the only time anybody ever tried to motivate me, was in Marine Corps boot camp. Ah whatever! It motivated me; I'm sure it translates just fine into the business world.


   You are all pathetic ferrets! You flipping disgust me! Why in the motherloving flip, did any of you puppies ever think that you could get ahead in this goshdanged business? You are snot! You are less than snot! You are the snot inside the other snot. You are a giant snot sandwich! I flipping hate every one of you wanna be ferret middle management puppy ant whiny flippers. FLIP! Flip you, and flip you, and flip you! I hope every one of you lazy ant flippers dies! You're a sorry lot of weak minded puppies and disgusting ferrets. Die! Maybe your replacement won't be such a flipping sissy!

*Update. My speech at the Girl Scout Jamboree didn't go over quite as well as I might have hoped. I didn't get rich. Unless you count restraining orders. I was ROLLING in those. Holla!

**Highlight text to view uncensored filth.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Laboratory Test Subject.

*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that.

Every since PETA took over, laboratories are having a difficult time getting their new products tested and approved. Now that you can no longer put lipstick on a pig, the big companies are having to pay people to test their products. If you are brave and don't mind being a petri dish in evil science experiments, you can make a decent living as a human Guinea Pig.
   My latest lower intestinal rash from the side effects of teeth whitening gel had cleared up, and my monthly $2000 cable bill was due, so I perused the medical test subjects wanted section of Craigslist and applied up for Laboratory Test Subject. I was immediately approved.
   I showed up to the address listed on the ad. The lab seemed a little sketchy compared to most of the laboratory assistant jobs I've taken, but hey, they offered to pay "as much as you think the procedure was worth... post procedure." I showed up and was given the basic lab volunteer qualification test: "Are you here of your own volition?", "Are you currently alive?" I passed with flying colors.
   The nice man with the impossibly large facial scar and the white in a previous life lab coat strapped me down to the table and asked me one last time if I was voluntarily submitting to be a laboratory test subject. I said "D'uh! Yes, already. But it's actually pronounced La-BOR-a-TORY, not Lo-BOT-omy." The man nodded his head conspiratorially, and placed a gas-mask over my face.


*Update: I LIEK KITTEHS! BARK, BARK! INSTEDE OF MONIES, I GOT PAYD IN COOKIES. MY NEW DOKTORS SAY MY BRAIN SKAR MAKES ME HAPPY! Happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy. KITTEHS are my friend.  I liek, laboratororories, lobrotomies, lobostomies, lobotomies. BARK!

Friday, April 12, 2013

Klutz Proofing.

*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that. 

I am a klutz, and apparently I am not alone. Everywhere, I see people with cuts, bruises and bumps. I doubt in my middle ages I will be able to train myself to be more graceful, but unless I come up with something I'm bound to die in some tragic "he stood up too fast into the underside of a cabinet" accident. And whatever I come up with to help me, I can market to other Klutzes.
   I tried using baby proofing technology to klutz proof my home, but that didn't work. It was prohibitively expensive, and I have hurt myself on nearly every square inch of my home, I couldn't just get rid of everything that had scratched or bruised me. Plus what about when I wasn't at home? Today's modern klutz spends many hours away from home every day, Then I came up with a simple yet elegant solution. I'll Klutz proof myself, then I'll be safe wherever my day takes me.


*Nobody would buy my suit. People would rather suffer life's small injuries than look like this all day. Plus after twelve hours wrapped in plastic, body odor becomes lethal. Single people were unable to attract mates, and people lost jobs due to their appearance. I guess I'll try again tomorrow.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Jalapeño Holistic Body Products.

*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that. 

Holistic body products are a multi-billion dollar, a year, industry. If I can take even a tiny piece of that pie, I will be, like, double wide trailer rich. And I think I found my niche.
   I love jalapeños. I love the spicy burn they provide to food. From my morning breakfast cereal, to my milkshake after dinner and everything in between, jalapeños add a little kick that makes everything more better. I recently found out on the internet, that the reason people like spicy food is that capsaicin (the secret ingredient in hot peppers) causes your brain to release dopamine which makes the brain happy. 
   So, I came up with some holistic body products that are made from jalapeños. You'll be double happy using my products, Holy Jalapeño Hot Body. One because they are holistically 100% all natural, and two because they will release dopamine. It's a, "can't fail idea."


*WARNING! There is a full recall involving all Holy Jalapeño Hot Body products. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES USE ANY HOLY JALAPEÑO PRODUCTS! Third degree burns occur wherever the products are applied. The recall covers all products, including: hair dye, eyeliner, lotion,  face cream, underarm deodorant, toilet paper, feminine products, prophylactics, bunion cream, soothing body wash, baby shampoo, q-tips, tanning lotion, suppositories, lingerie, athletic supporters, shaving cream, brazilian bikini wax, jewelry, band-aids, hemorrhoid cream, and anti-acid formula. 

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Improv Theater Sort Of.

*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that. 

Laughing Yoga; the only thing dumberer than this blog. Oops sorry, it appears nothing's dumberer than this blog.

I SO want to be a comedian. I want to do something creative and funny with my life. Something funnier than going to school to be a computer animator and ending up as a plumber, or wanting to be a writer while simultaneously being the worst punctuator in history, both of which, aren't really funny they're more pathetic, or dare I say... ironic, or I would say that if I were Alanis Morissette circa 1990-something, which I'm not, so you can stop with the rumors, we don't look anything alike, ok maybe just a little but I'm taller and have much nicer legs, and besides why do you care if a then thirty year old plumber decides to moonlight as a Canadian pop-star and take the world by storm with raw emotional power, a naughty mouth, and rebellious yet melodious riffs? But I digress. 

Not a plumber. Probably.

   My point is. I would love to be a comedian, but I'm just not quick enough. All the famous comedians can boast of their Improv backgrounds, where they are presented with situations and they respond with comedic genius without missing a beat. My brain doesn't work that way. I think of the perfect humorous response to any situation, approximately half and hour or ten miles after it occurred, where I invariably exclaim "that's what I should've said" and collapse in waves of self laughter. (A thought ocurs; aforementioned could be the reason for my astounding large amount of traffic accidents; need to look into that.)
   Thinking of the funny thing to say when I am no longer in the humorous situation isn't funny to anybody else but me. And I'm not rich enough to pay myself to make myself laugh, so until I am rich enough, I need to find another way.
   All my attempts at time travel have been unsuccessful, otherwise I could just zap into the past and hear the joke and then zoom forward to the present after a short jaunt into the distant future where I keep my joke writing study, and after a finely crafted joke is delivered I could be the new crown prince of laughter. But alas.
...and then I'll say. Grandma's on the roof! Hahahaha.

   If I was telepathic, I would know what joke or situation would be presented, and I would have time to come up with a witty retort. But unfortunately I'm as telepathic as fresh roadkill; I don't even know where this current essay is headed and I'm writing this drivel.
   I suppose I could kill the audience and cast after I heard the set-up to the scene, and then when I had a polished masterpiece I could revive them all and they would be astounded by my brilliance. But my life imbuing skills are a little nonexistent. Last time I took a CPR class, I managed to "kill" every Resusci-Anne doll at the Red Cross building. They made me promise to not, under any circumstance, ever, EVER, attempt to help save someones life. Ever. Guess that's out.
   So I've come up with the latest innovation in Improv. The audience or the other actors tell me what's going to happen. And then I'll go and write up some funny stuff, and then I'll hire a better looking me to play me, and then we'll practice and storyboard and refine and then after several short lunar cycles, as long as everything goes exactly to plan and nobody deviates from the script, I will take the world by storm with my mad improv skills!

"So funny. Almost like somebody wrote his lines. And yet somehow spontaneous as well." 

   

Hurricane Preparedness Expert.


*flip is currently chronicling his attempts to get rich. Oddly enough, flip's exploits are being recounted alphabetically. (That's A-Z, for the uninitiated.) flip is also referring to himself in the third person. ' Cause flip's just cool like that. 


I like to be prepared, but not everybody does. If I play my cards right, I can turn that to my financial gain. I will help people of my community prepare for the upcoming Hurricane season. For a small, and by small I mean reasonable, and by reasonable I mean, moderately large fee, I will help them with the necessary steps to hurricane survival. I will teach them to shutter and board up their windows, how to moor their boats properly, how to avoid basement flooding and other essentials. There will be discussions on the possibility of jacking houses up and placing them on stilts, or even moving them above high tide. I will conduct seminars on evacuation routes and sheltering at the local Y. I'll make millions.


   Not one person signed up for my service! Not even when I cut the price, to a reasonable $10,000. And then to $500. And then $19.99. Or when I offered to do it for a pack of gum and a ride to the bus depot. Turns out hurricane preparation isn't at all popular in extremely landlocked desert states that happen to be at 5000 feet of elevation, with little to no water. I tried to salvage the sale by warning of other emergencies, but my stupid state doesn't have any forms of violent natural disasters; no tornadoes, earthquakes, ice storms or volcanos. (Although we did have a really nasty Texan infestation not too long ago, but we applied a cream and it cleared up nicely.) I swear; a guy just can't catch a break.