1,142 Days

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Suburban Dad Shxt™… A Pit of Fire

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     So we moved into this house 361 days ago…  Among things I planned to do were to fix the yard (completed in May & maintained ever since) , mancave the garage ( that has been an ongoing project that will never be “done,” but it contains all my fun stuff) , and build a fire pit in the back yard. Wife insisted we add a patio under the deck in the meantime.  Not to bore anyone with tales of an ongoing garage/mancave/home gym – if you were on IG then you saw it – we’re here to talk about that last one.      I put this project off for the longest time, only to find myself upset at how damned easy it wound up being…      We’ll start off by cutting the back yard as we do every Wednesday:   (note: that tree there on the right WAS dying so I cut it down to a stump and now it is growing again, SMFH) Start with twelve cinder blocks arranged into a square.  Standard blocks will give you a 56” outside diameter using sta...
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True Story©… The Death of the Party

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       Sometimes all it takes to ruin a situation is the situation itself…      We have been in this house for almost 17 months now.  I am a decent neighbor; I KEEP the grass cut, my dogs don’t run loose in the neighborhood, I pull my trash cans up from the street as soon as they have been collected and I don’t shoot in the air on holidays. … but I don’t particularly like people, so the BEST neighborly thing I do is minding my own fucking business and leaving people alone.      My wife, on the other hand, is a peopler and has a gregariousness that would cause me to cower into my mancave and lock the door. Compromise: when she decides to entertain, I will make sure the house is clean while I agree to be at least cordial and attempt to refrain from cursing around children.  No promises on that last one.      In that we are now in a neighborhood of people around our age who have children aroun...
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True Story©... Get Back on the Getback

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     I don’t forget shit… Let me rephrase that, I do forget a great many things, but I don’t forget things that matter a great deal to me.      In August, I told y’all about a job I had taken on helping a dude finally decide whether or not he should go through with marrying his girlfriend.  The work in said story was foiled by one of my mans named Marlon who basically, figuratively and literally fucked my money. [ Link , catch up and come back, you will need it if you do not remember]      Anyway, I am not as mad at Marl as I probably should be for how it went down because – as he so succinctly put it – her ass was absolutely stunning.  Besides, we been friends since middle school and I guess I should have known that he would probably fuck the girl first chance he got. Anyway…      Three weeks ago, Marlon calls me with a quandary… Marlon: “Phlip!” Me: “Whatup Marls?” Marl...
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