2009 Freudian Slips Irony Oscar

While most blogs have been supplanted by instantaneous applications like Facebook and Twitter, Freudian Slips has faced its share of challenges to survive on the information super highway otherwise known as the internet. Nevertheless, with ink newspapers going out of business by the droves, this mainstay blog closes out its sixth calendar year still pecking occasional copy on the keyboard. While no workforce reductions are in store for 2010, if readerhsip continues to wane, my blog headquarters may be moved to a smaller cupboard closest to an unsecured internet conncection. With so many blogs signing off for good, this writer worries if I may one day be joining the ranks of the blog deceased in favor of another medium.

Be that as it may, as nominated by my remaining dedicated blog readers based ontheir email inquiries and post comments, here are the five most popular blog articles appearing on Freudian Slips in 2009.

9-19-09 The PH Factor in Grass and Lovemaking

8-30-09 Beasts of Burden

6-28-09 Nick at Night

8-25-09 Fire Come and Get It

3-11-09 The Seedy Side of Life

And the winner of the 2009 Freudian Slips Irony Oscar goes to the blog posting, Nick at Night, a whimsical satire on working behind the scenes in a movie as Nick Nolte's stand-in.

Freudian Slips Irony Oscar

It is that esteemed time of year again to honor the writing on this Freudian Slips blog in a mock shameless self-promotion. The Fourth Annual Freudian Slips Irony Award occurred last night. Due to budgetary constraints and low-ticket sales, the event had to be held outdoors in a heated tent. The exact location the spikes were ground driven remains undisclosed but rumor abounds that it was on a construction site eager to sprout another Wal-Mart for the middle class.

Five hundred guests received last minute invitations. Of the forty-three brave souls that showed up for the ceremony, all fought elements of the cold huddled together under thermal blankets and heat lamps. Hired help working at minimum wage, shuttled coffee and hot chicken noodle soup to uncomfortable guests. Only one person left early. Unforgivably, it was my mother due to frostbite.

In a repeat command performance, Pax Romano emceed the show and filled the many patches of dead air with a lively microphone. He performed a song and dance number from the obscure movie soundtrack of Girl 27. Other than a seven minute opening monologue rant about the commercial colonization of a Stepford-like America, Pax’s showmanship carried the gala event. Many headliner writers attended the bling bling blah blah ceremonies hoping to earn a lifetime achievement award. But on this night, it was all about Joe Tornatore’s writing. Embarrassed by devoting more time and energy to acting than writing this past year, I reluctantly approached the podium built out of particle board. Although I appeared dressed in a suit and tie loaned by my brother-in-law, my loafers already found a puddle of mud. Again, I had cold feet. I politely waved to my smattering of friends paid to be in attendance. A roll of toilet paper got tossed from the back row, the second row of metal folding chairs. After security guards determined that a bratty child visiting the outhouse threw the toilet paper, mild applause ensued overtop a single female heckler.

After a few awkward throat clears, I acknowledged neglecting his blog at times during 2007. I read from the teleprompter the scripted guilt I carried from earning more money bit acting than book royalties. In the loosening of my noose-like yellow tie, the aspiring actor in me appeared every bit the expiring author.

I said, “I greet you here tonight with nothing but a few good blog postings amidst mediocre. I apologize for spreading myself too thin. I remain as far from an Oscar nomination as the Pulitzer Prize. This I know and regret on both fronts.”

Then with a politician’s finger point, I promised the crowd I would act less and write more for 2008. A chorus of cheers raised the roof even if that meant only lifting the tent. The sound mixer added musical undertow to the staged motivational speech. Again I called upon my acting abilities to bridge writer’s block. With the reverb of a little drummer boy’s drum roll, I announced, “…The sparse nominees for this year’s Freudian Slips Irony Award is:

The Rooster Roaster, a short story to crow about. It tells the woeful tail of my friend who made strange acquaintance with a wild rooster. The Notebook, The Numbers Game, a father tries to lovingly heirloom to his daughter not only an old notebook full of useless numbers but the obsessive compulsive behavior that fueled one wasted summer in 1971. The Biggest Dumbbell. How I slandered my beloved Philadelphia Eagles football team unwittingly to a 6’5” 3330-pound professional player on the same team. The author survived the chance ironic encounter to write about it. The Sons of Italy. An odd couple meet for the first time during a parade. The story unfolds as ironic as it is sad. This father son tandem does not know each other in the least let alone separate themselves from strangers in the streets of Philadelphia.

Waiting for a winner to be announced, the tent got so quiet crickets could be heard. I smiled for the cameras. “And the winner is….A real page turner, it all adds up, The Notebook, A Numbers Game wins The Fourth Annual Irony Oscar!” My bow caused a crevice rip in my pants. “See you next year on Freudian Slips and thanks for reading."

Word Cloud for Blogs

Here is the advertising gimmick that the intelligent folks at Snapshirts came up with for bloggers. Their software quickly scans your blog to create a random sampling of words. This is what my sampling looked like. Of course, the purpose is to imprint the word salad on tee shirts for a nominal fee. The pricing seems reasonable so don't worry about them taking the shirt off your back.

I know what your are thinking. Anything with a Slip should be worn as an undergarment but that would not be effective advertising. So I am looking into outfitting my friends with an army of Freudian Slips shirts. No wardrobe would be complete without a punnery made of cotton blend. It could replace the standardized uniforms in Catholic schools or be the mojo for dress down Fridays all across working America. You never know.

Truth be told, if I had more readers I wouldn't need to advertise at all. Google Me Moogle Me, Batman.

Freudian Slips Blog Anniversary

One year ago, Freudian Slips was born. There isn't a more fitting birthday for Freudian Slips than Halloween. How many blogs have a born on date in the witching hour? Heart of hearts, I didn't know what Freudian Slips would be in the beginning. To my utmost satisfaction it has evolved into three weekly posts in a short story format with a take thee to a punnery approach.

This blog has registered 9000 visitors in its virgin year and attracted a small audience who visit regularly. Nine thousand hits is not to be confused with a hit parade or a traffic jam in front of an anonymous rowhouse but what a fruitful year for me as a writer. I attract 10-20 first time visitors per day and pen approximately 5000 words a month. I haven't experienced famine or fishing for stories yet and writing is becoming less of an exercise. Thankfully, I haven't bottomed out on puns, quips, or play on words. Many thanks to my regular readers who bared with me until I found my inner voice fitting for public consumption.

My writing has allowed me to come into contact with interesting people from as far away as Italy, South Africa, and Argentina to as close as my own backyard. There is no greater compliment than hearing the words "I read your blog last night." or receiving a nice email. Recently, a stranger on the tennis courts brought up my blog in conversation. Only last week an acquaintance got out of his parked car to stand in the pouring rain to passionately approve of a recent blog posting. The fact that I am hearing the name Freudian Slips more often tells me that it may not be slips of the tongue but that I may be on the write track as a budding author.

Special thanks to big blog brother Pax Romano, who encouraged me to start my own blog. I got one year under my belt and I hope that's not all. A fitting postscript, I felt compelled to end this blog anniversary of sorts with a Freudian slip no less.

Sigmund Freud speaking on reflection.