Phabulous Phil.

I have to be careful here.

I don’t want to get all gay about Phil ’cause one of his kids might find this and read it to him and then he’d seriously kick my ass.

But ya know what? He’s flippin’ amazing.

I’m not sure if his son Nick and the boys work as hard as they do because they love and admire Phil and strive mightily to please him or if they’re terrified of an unhappy Phil.

Maybe some of both of it.

Whatever it is- Jesus monster they work their fucking lungs out.

A week ago Phil and Sideshow and Johnny and Crockett and Nick showed up and started framing our little hacienda.

Phil strode onto the scene of our lonely pile driven tapestry, settled on the motorcycle that is his company, started shit up and grabbing a handful of throttle, dumped the clutch and burned rubber, pushing his crew relentlessly.

Day after day he drove them mercilessly. And yet they didn’t seem to mind. Nick and the boys sprinted lumber and spat nails and made my poorly drawn feeble ass dream an amazing reality.

And they did it refreshingly happily. Day after grueling day.

I don’t know how Phil does it, but I want to bottle it and patent it.

I wanna say I love the Phabulous Phil but I don’t wanna get my ass kicked.

Serious.