Posts

Showing posts with the label Moe Phillips

True Story©... Get Out Of Jail Free!

Image
  Life is pretty boring lately… I say that to say that there is plenty going on but most of it is pretty mundane “adulting” shit.  I guess one could see how that might mean things are pretty okay but knowing/observing how my brain works, one could ALSO see the need for some excitement.  I mean, I know spring is right around the corner and will bring with it constant yard work and sundresses (and the cleavage that comes with those) , but right now is right now. As I reached the end of my chain, my phone rings – my PERSONAL phone – and I kind of have to answer that when it rings for reasons I don’t need to get into right here and now. Me: “Hello?” Caller: “Phillip, it’s me…” Me: “Sir, there are like eight billion people on this planet.” Caller: “Detective Woodpe–… fuck–…  SHIT!!!  Detective Woodcock.” Me: “Naughty, naughty there, detective Woodpenis, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Woodpenis: “My mother is deceased.” Me: “And you’re sitting around kissing on her instead of bur

True Story©... The M-O-Equalizer II

Image
       You ever forget previous promises to make good on past transgressions? I promised back in the spring to make better use of Moe Phillips as a concept and citizen and damn near promptly forgot about that shit in a hailstorm of attempts to pay my mortgage off early among other things. [ Phlip note : Rocket is still getting their half-file every other week until I figure this shit out ] Well to be frank, life has gotten so weird since I fixed these blessed fingers to type those words that I straight-up forgot the promise. Or one could say that I HAD forgotten the promise until a couple of months ago, when I received an email on the “ask Moe for help” email address. (misspellings and grammar are assuredly not my own) “Moe,      My wifey n I are lookn for a 3rd to come into our bed wit us, but every time we try 2 mt up wit her or vid chat, she ghost us. She local, bt wnt mk way to see us nd see if it could wrk. We wonted 2 knw if u cld help us mt our new GF. Help pls!”      B

True Story©... The Treasure Hunt

Image
     I tend to try to mind my own damned business most of the time. My brain, however, is a BUSY place and a torturous situation comes from when I am forced against my will to re-litigate old cases. Worry not, nothing happening here has been discussed in previous stories. Anyways… When I run back down memory lane sometimes I get NEW mad all over again, sometimes as pissed as one might get when the misdeed is actively transpiring.      When I get pissed or anxious, I try to make myself busy. I do this to quell the “noise” in my head. Not noise as in literal sound, but as in the cacophony of shit in my head that in a past lifetime would drive me fucking nuts until I drank myself to sleep. Needless to say, I have unlearned that habit. Nowadays I write, I exercise until my knees and hips make me stop, I clean house, I think about writing while I am working out or cleaning, I research and plan lawn care, I do WHATEVER I can to combat the noise. To quote a good friend: “ADHD… It’s

True Story©… Mighty Moe Phitness

Image
       I know it feels like I talk about this a lot lately, but by the time the two of you read this, I will be within 20 ounces of the lowest I have weighed since I discovered food and alcohol as a combination. Even that low-water mark was the result of a bad accident that led to a broken jaw and me off of solid foods for eight weeks in 2003.      Covid season created a world wherein I was ABSOLUTELY not social outside of what could be attained from my phone or one of my computers. I was work/eat/sleep/work/drink/sleep/work, week in and week out and the weight that had been yo-yo’ing between 245 and 270 was firmly at 265. I felt like shit and decided to do something about it. July 2022, I decided to take out the running shoes I’d already acquired and hit the pavement. Three weeks later, I ended my (then-) 26-year relationship with alcohol. The first few pounds slid right off no problem. Nothing noticeable, not on a “go buy new clothes” level, but the scale was telling it for

True Story©… Smurfin’

Image
       I couldn’t stay out for long… Me, this Moe Phillips thing, my continued petty crime spree, I am drawn to it like a moth to a flame.   Consistency with my prior edict to use Moe Phillips for net good remains in place at least.      First thing’s first…   I KNOW Detective Woodpenis is watching his wire to be sure that Moe isn’t acting up again, for which he has promised to come for my ass.   Of course, there needs to be a new burner phone, since I gave the old one to the unhoused person to use out when I left the station last time.   Instead of making a purchase near my home, I drove to surrounding cities and approached people on highway exits with signs.   For a couple of bucks for whatever they wanted to buy, they would go into the store and buy me a burner phone.   I did this three times.   Why three?   I would stash one burner in a location away from my house.   THIS would be *the* number for people to call me on.   I silenced it, and plugged it in at a YMCA locker room