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Mike Martin's blog
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Mike Martin avatar 6:05 PM on 09.28.2012  (server time)
Who wants to know this guy? [NVGR] A re-intro to Phil.

I'm sexy and I know it. Me, circa 2010

As I've become more active in this community and made a ton of awesome buddies and a few really awesome friends, I thought it might be time to reintroduce myself. Care to know what makes your hive-mind, ethereal, sex deity tick? Read on. Warning though, I'm kind of known for giving out TMI. I'm going to share a lot of my life story here and I don't care if that bothers you. Just don't read it, if it does. What can I say? I'm a sharer with nothing to hide and a dick. Alright, we should be good to go now.

Let's start with my early life, but before that, let's add some music to this. Click this LINK. Note the line: I've already seen the truth, so you don't gotta lie to me. I've seen some truth alright. Now on to the show:

I was not what you would call a lucky kid. No. I got pretty fucked actually. Conceived less than two months after my brother (MrCharleeBrown on here), I was born to a crack whore in the wilds of Wisconsin. Apparently I was born high, so I guess she at least did that for me, but I ended almost dying multiple times up to the age of 2, due to complications. Had pnuemonia twice also in that time and somehow pulled through. Even then I wasn't a quitter and was a damn stubborn bastard. After someone finally pulled their head out their ass, I was taken away from my mother and sent to live with my grandparents. Oh fucking boy, was that fun. Now, keep in mind I said 'I'. Not we. They left my Irish twin (google it) to fend for himself and live on the streets until he was an adult. Nice. Oh well, at least I wasn't worried about it. You see, my grandparents told me he was dead! Whew. That was a load off.

So yeah, the grandfolks. Well I didn't see much of my Dad (Grandpa, remember I'm adopted at this point), he was too busy drinking and avoiding my Mom (Grandma, see above). Why would he do that? Wellllllll, Ma was fucking psycho. Seriously. Bi-polar, schizo and a religious (Catholic) nut on top of it. Up until she died when I was 13, I was subjected to being locked in the closet all the time, forced to read and memorize verses from all the damn testaments and the occasional (often) beating. Good fucking times, as they say. Alright, so fast forward to 13. Ma's dead (Told you I was only giving you some of the story), me and my Dad are left looking at each other. No clue what the other was about or what we'd been through. Just stuck with each other.

My Dad wasn't a bad guy. I want that made perfectly clear. My Mom (Grandma) and Sister (Aunt) hid almost all of what was going on behind his back. He had no clue I was abused, no idea I thought my brother was dead, no idea my real Mom was strung out on drugs (that her sister kept giving her). He just thought his wife was crazy and his one daughter was a bitch, the other an addict. I didn't exactly fill him in out it either until much later. My Dad was a career Marine and Sheriff. He was a pretty awesome dude and could be a total asshole. For awhile he was just a drunk. Unfortunately the drunk is who I met first. Needless to say I was pretty fucked up from everything. Even though I hated that woman, watching her die (literally) rocked me to my core. I just didn't realize it at the time because I was too busy getting high and ditching school.

I became very familiar with handcuffs

So a whole shit ton of fights, robberies, drug abuse, juvenile hall, sex, alcohol and cigarettes later, I was 17. I was drunk when it went down, but I decided I didn't want to live with my dad anymore. So I ran away. Some sheriff's drug me back, more drinking, more running, a fistfight between me and my dad in the middle of town and some more drugs later: BAM! Emancipated! Woooooo. Less than a week later I fucked that up and spent the rest of my 17th year in Juvenile Hall *facepalm*. Seriously have a hard time remembering all that transpired between those events, but at least I've pieced together some of it.

So I'm 18. Free from home, free from probation, free. FREE. Wow. Oh shit, I'm homeless. Whoops. I spent two years homeless. I wasn't a bum though. I had started working when I was 12. Worked all through the above shit, because it was an escape from home. Took any of those I could get, ya know? But yeah, now I was homeless. So I got a job at a gas station/tire shop/u-haul center. worked my ass off, kept getting high and drunk, but had money in my pocket and made friends who I could pay rent and live with. Lived with a full blooded Mexican family most of that time, who took pity on me and didn't mind that I was a miclo. Well, I fucked their daughter and screwed that one up (bad penis). So I was left homeless again. I did the only sensible thing I could and slept with any girl I could, who would let me spend the night! Genius (bad penis). After the fuck ton of problems that caused, I finally sucked it up and called my Dad.

Much to my surprise he was sober and missed me hardcore. We spent a lot of the first few weeks just talking. It was cool, but I was scared. I don't know what scared me, but something did. Well I was scared for nothing, because despite what an ass he could be, my Dad was fucking awesome and helped build something out of the mess I had made of my life. Hell, this guy... Christ, this fucking guy even paid off one of my coke dealers, who was threatening to kill me over $500 (Like I said, I'm leaving a lot out). What parent does that? Don't worry, I paid my Dad back every god damn cent. It was the least I could do. My Dad died last year on Oct. 19th in my arms, due to cancer and breathing issues. Two weeks after my birthday (dick). So sorry, I have to stop talking about him. I have tears streaming down my face, from thinking of all this. That man was my Father, not just dad, became my best friend, my partner, hell the only thing we didn't do was fuck. The hole left by his passing is enormous. I only pray I can do a fraction for my son, what he did for me. He was also my savior. Alright, can't go on.

Ok, done crying like a wuss. See that little yellow ball up there? That's how I feel now days. I'm this little happy yellow ball surrounded by all these damn blue sour pusses. You just read a decent chunk of my life. Some shitty stuff in there huh? Now I want you to realize this: I'm happy. I'm happy as shit actually. Here listen to this: LINK. That's my anthem now. Yeah, I've been through shit. A lot. Most isn't even listed on this blog. You got maybe an eighth of my bag of shit, listed here. But I'm happy with what I've got. I've made mistakes, I've worked my ass off, I've seen death (not just my parents either), been screwed over, etc. But I'm happy. I'm tired of everyone (mostly) complaining constantly, feeling sorry for themselves, being lazy and just down all the time. What I believe shapes us and defines us, is not what we do, but how we react to the bad and what we do AFTER that. If you want to sit and wallow, I have little love or respect for you. You want happiness? Earn it. Make it. Find it. That's who I believe I am and what makes me Phil (to you folks at least). I'm the dick that rose above his shit and put a smile on and did the damn thing.

For the record I planned on having about 3-4 more paragraphs before I lost it, talking about my pops. I wanted to ease into the last paragraph a whole lot better and include things about my business (skateboard company), school life, marriage, kids, kicking my addictions, overcoming my past, letting go of the pain/anger and more. Just couldn't do it though, because a lot that centers around my pops. So, sorry for the shitty pacing. I was also going to tie gaming into everything and how it's helped me, but I'm drained. A lot of painful stuff in here. I hope it gives you guys a better idea on who I am, what I'm about (How dipshit, when you skipped those paragraphs? SHUT UP ME) and why I'm the way I am. I love you guys. You are my extended family and you should know what you're getting with the sexy package that is Phil.

Now, no ass pats or awwws or you poor thing's in the comments. There are folks who had it a lot worse than me and still do, who rose above it and didn't make half the idiotic mistakes I did. Like I said, I'm happy and I don't seek or want comfort or condolences. Just wanted to share, since I've never really done that here. Look forward to me and my brothers book on our lives, for the whole scoop. Should be out in 2 years. Totally going to twist all that bullshit (of our lives) into milking money from the Lifetime and Oprah crowds :)

P.S. My real name is Michael David Martin. My intials are M&M and no I wont melt in your mouth nor your hand. I'll have sexy time with 'em both and you'll love it.

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