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True Story©... Home Alone

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  Wife Person™ has a best friend...      Well she has about four, but one in particular sits at the absolute top of the pot and that is the one she doesn't get to see as much as they might like due to physical distance. They only get to see each other in person about once or twice a year and it always involves an airline ride. They get to see each other this weekend, but I never keyed y'all in on what happened when Wife Person™ went to TN/AR to visit her back in the spring.      It was March, they'd planned the visit for months in advance. It was planned for a week/end that I would be otherwise untethered to anything other than my lawn mower... Me: "But who gon feed me and remind me to take care of the dogs?" Wife Person™: "You do most of the cooking, cleaning and dog-rearing already. The fuck!?" Me: "And no adult supervision?" Wife Person™: "You talked to your therapist on Tuesday, right?" Me: "Of course!" Wife Person™...

True Story©... Stress Test

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       Weird things happening nowadays... One would think that I am NOT the one to be asking for serious advice, especially after reading the shenanigous outcomes I tend to prefer. Despite that, here we are. I've been busy with yard work and Tiny Little™ , so "outside" is not something I've particularly been able to participate in, so while she was napping, I opened up the good ol email. "Moe, I'm considering marrying my girlfriend but as much as I love her, I'm still not comfortable that she is the one. Is there anything I could do to know for sure before throwing years of my life away to a poor decision?"      Now... Pragmatically thinking, I would explain to him that if he gotta ASK then he already knows he probably don't trust her and should not move forward. But if I answered with just that, this story would end with the period at the end of this sentence. Instead, I responded and asked for his phone number to ask some more detailed questi...

True Story©... A Family Reunion

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       The changing weather and the near-constant presence of a Tiny Little™ in my house have pressed me into an extreme level of home body life. I'd say I'm bothered by it, but I'm really only beckoned from my house if it involves food or a leaf mulching job these last couple weeks.      Unfortunately, this means that people come to my door and I am actually home to have to -- or try to -- ignore them. So this past Saturday, I finished the one lawn on my schedule for the day and unloaded my truck, then sat down at the computer in the corner of my garage to work on the YouTube video I had recorded for it. [ link ] As I'm working on the voiceover and PRAYING nothing noisy happens outside my driveway to spoil it, my "should have closed the fuckin door" was confirmed when someone walked up to but not in my garage. Him: "Excuse me, are you busy?" Me: "Yes, and now I gotta record this voiceover for a third time..." Him: "I apologize, it...

True Story©... Accidental Terrorist

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       I'm a serial DIY'er... I'm bullshitting, we grew up less-than-rich and I'm a cheap ass who cannot fathom paying someone to do something I can realistically do myself.      Of late, say the last month or so, I've become more aggressive in my research and effort into lawn care. Wild timing to do this at the end of the seson, but I digress. I bought a used pickup truck on October 9th and went right to the work of it paying for itself that very weekend, carrying around my lawn equipment for quick load/unload to get the yards that pay me done as efficiently as possible. This ain't about that though...      When back home over the past now three weeks, I've transitioned from "work" mode to "plan to work" mode. The planning part includes questions to myself on how to do this whole thing better; how to make the yards greener, how to prevent weeds and how as a DIY'er to do all that shit without breaking the bank. Basically, doing ...

True Story©... Another Satisfied Customer

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       With the lawn season winding to a close for the year, I'm having to turn to other things to pass my time. As I explained last month, clearing my Moe Phillips email box of unread messages was entertaining enough, but as a "do it to death" personality, I was finished in no time so here I am, back bored as it gets and a LONG ways to spring.      Nearing the end of my rope and close to my idle hands becoming the devil's playground, I received a phone call on the burner line... Me: "hello?" Her: "is this Moe?" Me: "uhh..." Her: "Moe Phillips? Do I have the right number?" Me: "Yeah, it's me. Who's this?" Her: "You don't know me but you know my father" Me: "Do I?" Her: "Yes, you helped him when he reached out to you last year." Me: "mmhmm" Her: "He is a preacher and he asked you about--..." Me: "... about how to grow his ministry to be able to expand...

True Story©... Cracking the Code

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    I have an odd relationship with TV. We own six and there are shows I enjoy a lot, but the one in the garage exist more as a PC monitor than television, and I still somehow manage to fall asleep on the couch even while watching the shows I DO enjoy.      Despite this, two things remain true... 1 - since I have rediscovered my writing as an adult, I've wanted to write for a television show. and 2 - I've always wanted to be on a game show. I've taken the jeopardy quiz twice but that shit is CONSIDERABLY harder than barking answers at the television every night at 7:30pm Eastern Standard Time.      In a semi-response to #1 above, I shared the contact information of a production executive in the industry back in 2020 when I was furloughed from work for six weeks. I was inexplicably allowed access to throw my ideas at him without being hung up upon, blocked or sent a cease and desist. One might say down through the years that I am entertaining h...

True Story©... Tender Moe-ments

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       Not to let y’all in on more than you need to know, but I been holding out on you… For every tale of a person who emailed the Moe Phillips box looking for help, I might lend a hand to about one in five. The thing when doling out assistance of the kind that normally comes requested in that email box, I am only beholden to my own opinion. If that opinion is one of judgment, or an active decision that “this one ain’t worth my time and effort” then so be it. Sometimes the “request” comes in as a statement of a problem without an actual suggestion of what outcome the sender might find satisfactory, and I ain’t no fuckin’ mind reader.      So why are we here today? Well, frankly, I got time today… Before I send these emails into the trash bin of history, I will share a couple of the funnier ones with you guys. I will present these in no particular order. This one came in about three weeks ago… “Moe, I see that you solicit for those in need of he...

True Story©... Thirst Becomes Him

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       I've had a slow week, mostly… I mean, life has been busy kicking my ass, but that is for another time. I've had time to work, clean house and cut the yards I'm paid to cut, but my in-between time has been entertaining myself scrolling on YouTube and Bookface.      One source of ENDLESS entertainment on Teh Book of Faces is the local groups and the absolute fuck shit that transpires there. The other day was no different, see below... ... when I see a post like this, I go and view the person's profile before even entertaining the best part about the post -- the COMMENTS section. Once on the profile, I noticed it had recently been updated to "in a relationship" but with no mention of who with, so NOW I went back to the post and the comments.      Internet sleuths were not about to let this man eat the way he thought he would and called him out on it. Men ridiculed him for having to buy his way to a throuple, women ridiculed him ...

True Story©... The Pill Mill pt. II

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       When we left you , I had done a little footwork for our pal Detective Ramsbottom. I had gone into the probable scene of the alleged crime and done some reconnaissance as to the source of the illicit dingaling pills. In my “research,” I had gained some suspicion that the owner of this store or someone close to him was behind the whole shit.      What I had not noticed until I had a chance to sit down and relax, however, was that there was no UPC bar code on the back of the package. This suggests FOR SURE that this is someone’s basement/garage operation, perhaps as a “fake it til you make it” kinda deal where one goes into business under the radar until they have a proven winner and then they go legit. The problem here is that they ain’t painting houses, they are out here giving people heart attacks with unregulated wee-wee products. I made a phonecall Ramsbottom: “I thought you told me I was gonna have to do some policing?” Me: “Don’t use my...

True Story©... The Pill Mill

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       I would love the opportunity to say that “y’know, shit has been kinda quiet here lately,” but my life just isn’t set up for things to go that smoothly. While I would love to be able to take solace in no one ringing my phone as much as I DETEST phone conversations with anyone other than my brother, I legitimately hate unannounced pop-up visitors more than I do phone calls. I mean, I work from home and don’t get fully dressed most days so I tend to make it so most people don’t even know where I actually live whenever possible.      You know who does know where I live, whether I like it or not? Greensboro Police Department. Not because I am personally some kind of criminal – Moe Phillips is none of their fucking business – but due to a weird series of prior interactions that have been documented here in pages of True Story©…      That said, I am minding the business that ACTUALLY pays me in my bottom-front room facing my drive...