Floof (Not Floof) (floofinition) – Floofmerican floop (floof pop) band formed in Flooftroit in 1979. Employing uneven and diverse musical styles and utilizing guest vocalists and musicians, the band developed a worldwide following and achieved major success in several countries.
In use: “One of Floof (Not Floof)’s first major hits was “Walk the Floofosaur”, which reached the top ten in the Floofnited Floofdom and the Floofnited States a few years later.”
Eminent Floofmain (floofinition) – The power of an animal to lay claim to another’s property, and assume the right to use it.
In use: “The office chair had been purchased for his work, but every time he stood, the cat jumped onto it, attempting to impose eminent floofmain.”
Dreamed last night about me and the Indy 500. The Indianopolis 500 is an annual auto race pitting 33 drivers in fast, purpose-built speed machines. In my dream, I was a last minute addition, and was attempting to qualify. A woman was sponsoring me, and I think she also owned the car. All I recall of the car is that it was low, shiny, and purple. It wasn’t today’s specs, but more aligned with the specs and designs of the 1970s, i.e., the McLaren and Eagle.
I got in, and then was out, learning that I’d qualified…dead last. The race was due to start. There was a practice session. I went out again and was faster and in better control, I learned, but had been hampered by not wearing my seat belts. I was the only person aware of that. Next, I was going out and would follow another driver — Juan Pablo Montoya — around the track to become more comfortable with the lines. Then I’d be in the race. I felt good about it all, excited and full of anticipation.
That’s where it ended.
The dream ended then because a cat awoke me. He was preparing to upchuck on the bed beside my head. Reacting but half asleep, I pushed him off the bed. I then dreamed of a flying cat. It was like Rocky the Flying Squirrel, except it was my long-haired black and white big boi, Tucker, flying around.
Dreams. Go figure.
I had “Some Enchanted Evening” stuck in my head last night. The song is from the musical, South Pacific. I know all of South Pacific; Mom had the soundtrack — on 33 RPM vinyl — and played it often.
The words were a little different for me last night. Instead of singing “stranger”, I was singing, “Kitty”, as in cat, because I was singing to a cat. Youngblood (aka Meep, official floof de plume, Papi, but aka the ginger boy) was sitting in a chair across the room watching me. I sang to him. He didn’t look impressed. His expression said, “I see no food…”
To get that melody out of mind, I began entertaining other songs. I’d seen Bruce Springsteen on SNL last weekend, so I started shuffling Springsteen tunes. “Brilliant Disguise” (1987) caught and stayed.
Here we go. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get a vaccine. That is all.