The musings of a madman...

       This summer, I pulled in side money with my lawn mower and arming myself with a collection of sob stories to sell up the source of my abilities. All told, the hustle made me a plenty of extra cash for sneakers and narcotics using my spare time while also serving as a several-hours-a-week supplement to my weekly exercise regimen.      It stands to reason that pictures posted to my socials of my own yard (below) and of a couple of the ones I am duly and fairly paid for (not pictured) serve as my “résumé” to any interested party, but the funny thing about human beings is that they want to know shit that might be none of their damned business.      When I moved into my house in 2021, I was left with nasty work in the way of needing to fix this yard.  Over the course of this, I noted what a godawful job my next door neighbor’s yard man was doing of keeping hers up, despite the fact that he lives FIVE houses down.  In conversation with her, she decided that perhaps she would rath

       Have you ever wondered what would happen if you asked someone the most random of non-sequitur in the middle of an otherwise normal conversation?   After a lifetime of “sit down and shut up,” I now find myself in position where no one can tell me that shit no matter HOW wild what I say or ask might so happen to be.   Matter of fact, it usually comes in handy to end a conversation I don’t particularly care to be participating in.      I tend to exercise so early in the morning that the only other people I encounter are also exercising or walking a dog.   A head nod or a quick “morning” is good enough to keep it moving on my journey with the other exercisers.   For the dog people, I will actually speak to them so as to be able to talk to the dog without things getting weirder than they need to be, but the conversation is always with the puppy and never with the human. Outside of early morning roadwork workouts, I tend to be the one in my house assigned to do the “going out” mos

  (not to be confused with the SONG that never ends...)      Funny thing, this whole living a life chronicled in True Story©… [ Phlip note : there’s the thing, already! ] You’re told in school to take notes knowing that the information covered and ostensibly noted will come up when it is time for a knowledge check.   Similarly, typing out the exploits here to be followed by interested onlookers allows anyone reading to look back and realize that this comes off as not a collection of stories, but an infinitely expanding connected singular one.      Chronicling the exploits in detail also lays immediately bare the “dammit, this again” feeling when some shit I dealt with before decides to fall back into my life. Something I should have learned about supervillainy watching superhero cartoons for the last 89% of my life is that villainy, as karma is concerned, is NEVER ending.   You can do dirt, but that also means you will have a rough go of getting away from said dirt.      I can

       I’m a middle child… When that is brought up in certain company, “but you’re a twin” is a response, but I am the oldest twin in birth order out of three of us total.   I am a middle child and that is absolutely a thing whether accepted or not.      I say all that to say that I am pretty damn used to people forgetting to pay attention to me.   Not to cry into my beer over or anything, as it is 7:30am and work starts in a few minutes.      My wife has grown scared of introducing me to the uninitiated… “Why?” I hear you asking.   Because I have grown SO accustomed to people either not listening to what I am saying, or even still not taking any of it seriously when they have listened that I tend to blurt things out as if I have automatically inferred that they won’t be listening – or worse still, I will say some wild shit to test them.   Not necessarily to troll people or anything, but really just to entertain myself in this fucked up world.      I will never forget when s

     There’s some things that kids these days will never have to grow to understand.           Mexican brick-pack headache weed.           Waiting next to a phone that you CAN NOT move from for that lightskinned girl to never return your page.           Daily driving a $500 bucket while PRAYING it doesn’t inevitably do what a $500 bucket is bound to do. … and, naturally…           …   taking small town public transit from the spot where your above-mentioned $500 bucket stranded you to your place of employment. That last one is where we start off today…      On the city bus in anytown USA, size bedamned, you’re bound to encounter a ton of what one could refer to as, umm…   “Characters.”   In the late 90s/early 00s, the ubiquitousness of available digital media players was not NEAR what it is now.   If you wanted to have some portable music, you needed a small CD player and some EXPENSIVE-ass headphones.   Needless to say, a dude who is only on the bus because he ca