The musings of a madman...

       Not to let you in on more than you need to know about me, but my full-time job has existed under the constant possibility of a random drug test...      I could, at any moment, receive an email and teams message from my manager telling me that I have 30 minutes to report to a draw station and present a sample to be tested for illegal drugs. 18 years and 8 months had successfully transpired without me EVER having received any such a thing, not even after that one time I randomly passed the fxck out at my desk. ... until now...      Last week, I got that message on Teams and the email. When she noticed my light was amber because I was on break, outside cutting the front yard, she sent me a text asking if I got them. I ran inside and checked, responded "on it" to her text, changed shoes and hopped in the truck to go to the center for the test.      13 minutes later, I walked into the center and signed in on the kiosk...

       As you may or not recall, I apparently have a son... I mean that as in only "technically," because legally, I only have a two daughters -- we don't use "step" in this house except in matters of extreme necessity. Rather than drag this tale through an infuriating side quest, I will send you [ here ] and ask that you return when you're ready to proceed. ... welcome back...      So yeah, son... We approached the period since he came to my house as more of a friendship than family, as our blood relation is honestly nothing more than a previously-veiled matter of inconvenient consanguinity. I say that to say we exchange text messages at random times of day, I send and receive memes and answer queries for advice -- again, as I might any of my friends. He has commendably and thankfully avoided employing terms that would have him refer to me as his father, even if he is growing to see me as a father figure. ... until I got a phone call after work... M...

       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...

     I live in this weird little world where innocuous deeds of my past often spend years – DECADES – compounding and coming back here in my 40s for a visit. Buckle up, we’re going for a ride this week y’all.      So I’m sitting on the couch with the Wife Person™ earlier in the summer on my lunch break when we get a knock at the door and a ring of the doorbell.   I glance up at the panel and see that it is not one of the neighborhood kids asking can mine come out and play or anyone selling anything.   There is a sheriff department cruiser at the street so I figure I better not ignore this one. Me: “Can I help you sir?” He’s holding a manila envelope and hands it to me… Deputy: “You’ve been served” … fuck™.      Back in the house, I open up the envelope to discover just what it is that I have or am being accused of to end in being served papers of any kind here.   Wife Person™ is similarly interested in ...

       I don’t know if y’all know this but unless I have somewhere to be or something to do directly after work, I watch Maury Povich twice a day every weekday.   Everyone who has watched even one episode knows that Maury’s #1 draw is the paternity tests, complete with the “you are/NOT the father!” declarations.   Witnessing the embarrassment of others live on television is something I find entertaining, for better or worse.   We’ve discussed that before.      Of late – like, say, the last year or two – Maury’s show has been used as a natural “in” to sell up those ancestry DNA testing kits as well.   It is kind of a cruel sick joke that a show that has made their nut on embarrassing the shit out of people to be shilling “legitimate” DNA testing as well, but that is none of my business. So one day last fall, Wife Person sees the ancestry DNA testing segment and says “we should order a kit!”   Without having the br...