The musings of a madman...

     When I was a younger and slightly more sprightly man--…  Let me stop bullshitting, before I started drinking and fuckin’.  Back before I started drinking and fuckin’, I was drafted to fight for my country in the jungles of Vietnam. Look, I don’t wanna hear NONE of that “Phlip, you’re only 38” shit.  I was drafted to fight in Vietnam and that is the end of it.      Anyway… I was taken through MEPS and given a full once-over and physical, poked and prodded from every angle with no happy ending.  As I was finishing the last part of my evaluation, a loud siren sounded and I was rushed from the office wherein I was conversing with an entrance office and whisked into a van just outside of a door behind the desk we were in front of. Me: “Uhh…” Officer: “SHUT UP!” Me: “But--…” Officer: “But what?” Me: “But where the hell y’all taking me?” Officer: “You’ve been drafted.  You know that right?” Me: “Well yeah, so--…” Officer: “So we’ll take you wherever the fuck

     Ian was my littlest buddy of all time… He was a 10-pound Grivet Monkey I convinced an exotics shop that shouldn’t have sold him to sell him to me. …  and he tried like hell to ruin my life.      Funny thing about monkeys, even little ones.  They are territorial little shits, even the little ones! I was basically not allowed to have company in my house when Ian’s cage was in a common area, or he would raise all grains of holy fucking hell until he was the center of attention.  Covering his cage didn’t help, and ignoring him with an exposed cage would serve it that he would ASSUREDLY fling shit in your direction.      I should have tried to train the little bastard to pitch for the Pirates, he had quite the arm!      Anyway…  As long as Ian was being played with and the center of attention, even outside of his cage, then he was all good.  One night I had a female supplicant to visit me.  Immediately upon walking in the house, she noticed Ian’s cage hanging in th

I am beginning to think that True Story© is beginning to ruin my fucking life… Chilling at work on Monday, minding my own business, I gets an email: Fuck My Existence Well I guess it stands to reason that I have BAKED this damn cake, so it is totally on me to frost the sumbitch. We shot some back-and-forth around and he was clear that he was not willing to approach ANY of the holidays with this woman, that he had taken Wednesday off and that would be when he wanted to complete this whole thing.      Well shit on me, I guess I got no time for setup. After work Tuesday, I sat down at the computer and planned and plotted and daydreamed just how I could bail this man out of a VERY shitty situation. At least the kid was not hers and would not have a lot invested in them breaking up.  I mean, it only makes sense that a kid – especially a boy child – is not going to be there for someone disrespecting his father when that father is actually present , no?