The musings of a madman...

     Home life has me WILD bored… [ Phlip note : y’all benefit from this in the form of consistent output ] I have been in my house and have only ventured outside of my OMB-designated Combined Statistical Area one time since March, with most of that time spent in my own home.      That has left me with plenty of time for online retail therapy, documentary films and series, a couple of old movies revisited and some around-the-house projects.   That said, I have spent my spring and summer keeping myself busy.      During my above-mentioned (and previously discussed ) departure from my own area code for a few days right at my birthday, Disney+ threw the world a bone and released the Broadway smash Hamilton to at-home streaming instead of the planned 2021 theatrical release.   Upon my return home from my little trip, the wife person and I dug into it together and repeatedly.   I would be embarrassed to admit how many times we have watched it in this 53 days if it weren’t s

(yes, y'all have seen this image before)      Don’t call me.   Don’t call me unless someone is dead or fucking bleeding on the way to the upper room. My first several years of reasonably-compensated non-retail employment involved being tethered to a phone and I have learned to hate that shit now, even when that phone is my wireless for most other communication than texts.      June 18 th , day 23 of furlough, my phone rings.   I ignore it from across the room while I play GRID on the PlayStation. …   it rings again.   I holler to my wife in her office in the back “what the FUCK, are you calling me!?”   She is either asleep or ignores me. … it. rings. again.   What the HELL?!!?   I say as I pause the game and head over to the desk to take it off the charger.   It is a weird number, I Google and learn that it is from one of those weird Eastern European countries, like Moldova or Romania or Slavobia or whatever the fuck ever they’re named these days.   Well I ain’t callin

     Soon after separation, but before divorce, I was only about half-serious about dating.  To be honest, I gave about a fuck about dating to be honest and didn’t really want to be around people except to make sex, and then get on with my life. I was also TERRIBLY bored of it all and mildly annoyed with even THAT go of it, so I sometimes made a point of poisoning some situations just to see how far I could take it. Not with EVERY woman I met, mind you, just the ones I really saw nothing – not even a quick roll in the hay – with.  Enter Moe Phillips: Supervillain Esq…      I didn’t address every woman I encountered as Moe.  In fact, I generally maintained two profiles, one as Phillip [redacted] and one as Moe Phillips .  I didn’t catfish anyone; just know that I have looked like three different people in my adult life… -    Me with dreads and could be bothered to shave/trim every couple of days. -    Me, still with dreads and--…  Fuck that shaving shit. -    Me withou

     I don’t forget shit… Let me rephrase that, I do forget a great many things, but I don’t forget things that matter a great deal to me.      In August, I told y’all about a job I had taken on helping a dude finally decide whether or not he should go through with marrying his girlfriend.  The work in said story was foiled by one of my mans named Marlon who basically, figuratively and literally fucked my money. [ Link , catch up and come back, you will need it if you do not remember]      Anyway, I am not as mad at Marl as I probably should be for how it went down because – as he so succinctly put it – her ass was absolutely stunning.  Besides, we been friends since middle school and I guess I should have known that he would probably fuck the girl first chance he got. Anyway…      Three weeks ago, Marlon calls me with a quandary… Marlon: “Phlip!” Me: “Whatup Marls?” Marlon: “Shit man…  You good?” Me: “All things considered, still mad about that check