Hullo all, this is A Dinosaur posting after a brief bit of confusion involving a second Ministry of Flailing, Cavorting and Evil that I posted on even though Irony insists that it doesn't exist. It's just a figment of my imagination like vampires, or eskimos. Anyway, the other day I was in Pilates and two things crossed my mind: the first being, of course, 'Why am I in Pilates?' and the second one being 'I want Zebra Cakes.' You know, those delightful treats from Little Debbie. I shared the second thought with my roommate, who had also found herself reluctantly in Pilates and later that night, we ventured out to Walmart. Now, you have to understand that I'm at school in the south and the only thing open after 10:00 is Walmart. It's also the only place to get Zebra Cakes -and- resistance bands, which we had decided we needed to further torture our muscles.
While looking for these must-haves, we passed the pet supply section which contained a fair variety of fish. My roommate, hereby known as The Fruit Hoarder, decided that we absolutely, positively must buy a fish three weeks before Spring Break. This logic appealed to me immensely and we ended up getting a lovely little black, teal and purple betafish. At first I wanted to call it 2.0, because, you know, beta. But then I decided to name it after my dear sister. Not her real name obviously, because that would be a stupid name for a fish. So I named it Irony.
All that damn fish does is hover near the top of the bowl and make as little movement as is aquatically possible. Several times, I thought it was dead. It was only while I was sitting in my religion class half-listening to my professor warning us never to get into a discussion with Socrates that I realized what its problem was. It was suffering from metaphysical angst. You see, by naming it Irony, we had introduced it to a slew of problems most normally-named fish never encounter. It doesn't know what it is. Further more, it doesn't know whether it's supposed to be the opposite of what it is. No wonder the blasted thing can't find the energy to move. So we either have to rename it something bland like Incendiary Dave or invite people in for a fee so it can lead philosophical debates.
Decisions, decisions.
A Dinosaur