The musings of a madman...

  As the two of you well know, my dumb ass thought I was told I had 24 hours to live one time last month. As you may or not have observed in these here pages over the past several years, I took this information and made a simple misunderstanding into an absofuckinglute PROBLEM for a bunch of people.  The vessel of the worst of those problems, naturally, being myself. It stands to reason that NOT having only a day to live is actually a pretty good thing, y’all.  I can thank my now-21-month commitment to my health and fitness.  My doctors are actually kind of wowed at my laser focus and refusal to chill out on my regimen.  Needless to say, I **should** have more than 24 hours left on this spinning rock. …  but there is some fallout from my actions and that is an absolute problem, because I have ABSOLUTELY burned some bridges here in a city that I cannot afford to leave. One thing I never do is sit around wondering where my exes are living or what they are up to.  What I do know is

   [Pt. I can be reached  here ] [Pt. II can be reached  here ]      A bait car… After ALL the shit I lined up to excite these people into participating in my little game, a matriarch-fornicating BAIT CAR?!!?      When I left you, a complete creative brain fart caused me to latch onto the first thing to grab and hold my attention in a manner that I felt could be effectively used.  So frantic was I to get some shit in action that I didn’t consider the fact that I was in the damned ‘hood and that cops might be looking for whatever opportunity they could find – or, as it were, CREATE – to “protect and serve” the community.      First thing’s first…  My perpetual thumb-on-the-scale approach to making sure my chosen few make it to the finale worked like a charm.  They were not the first there. In fact they were fourth, fifth and sixth if I am to believe the order in which I received their responses.   Strangely enough, the back-to-back receipt of their responses would lead anyone paying at

  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

       I don’t like going out in public… It isn’t so much that I am antisocial – well I kinda am, but I fuck with who I fuck with and that makes a huge difference – but I have also done an absolute lifetime's worth of fuckshit in the community as the two of you have read in these pages in just the past two years. One of my greatest fears is that I will be out with Wife Person™ and or my little one and something that they don’t know I have done comes face-to-face with me. Don’t tell THEM that, but that is partially why I am so reluctant to go out and be places.      … so I am in The Walmarks a couple of weeks ago, minding my own business, collecting things for the Superbowl party and I hear someone in the distance calling apparently for me… Voice: “S’cuse me. Aye man! AYE!!!” Me: “You talking to me?” Him: “Yeah, yeah man… Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Me: “I’on think I know you bro.” Him: “Yeah, ain’t yo name like–… Somethin’ weird, like Fap Fappington or something like