Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Me so solly

Why is it when my cousin is doing a report on Japanese Samurai and I see the poster board she has made out with a picture of a warrior in full battle attire on it and I make a "Chink in the armor" joke in front of the whole family, I'm the bad guy?

That was funny shit, lay off me.

Friday, February 10, 2006

When did I become Dennis Miller?

Last night we got a few inches of snow so like always I went out and shoveled it when I damn well felt like it. On some sick level I actually enjoy shoveling the walk so I never really rush through it, I usually take my time and loaf about while enjoying the cool air. This morning I wish I had rushed through it because now I'm doubting my sense of humor.

I had just finished the driveway and was working on the sidewalk when the cute (understatement, she's hot. I haven't seen her since she was 17, she grew up, a lot. Anyways.........) little neighbor girl came out.

girl- "Hey Matt! Haven't seen you in a while"
me- "Hi Erin, how are you doing?"
girl- "I'm doing okay, just trying to stay busy. What are you doing?"
me- "Um, shoveling walk"
girl- "Well, It was nice seeing you. I've got to go to the Verizon store to have them fix my cell phone"
me- "What's wrong with it?"
girl- "The whole right side of the keypad isn't working. I don't know what happened"
me- "Maybe it's Alexander Graham Bell's palsy"

She just stared at me blankly for a few seconds.

girl- "wha-"
me- "nevermind"

My humor is completely unappreciated. I know she's not the smartest girl around but she's not the dumbest either. I mean come on, that was a awesome fucking joke (seriously, I'm legitimately proud of it). Now I'm doubting myself. It's been happening a lot lately, I'll make a joke that just flies over someone's head. Making people laugh is one of the only things I've always been fairly good at but it seems like people are clicking with my jokes and comments less frequently. Am I too highbrow? Do I really need to dumb things down to get laughs from people? This disturbs me.

If you didn't get that joke you suck and I hate you.

Yeah I know I haven't posted in a while, save it.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

....I got them all cut

Tomorrow night is my company's Christmas party at a very nice country club so today I decided that I was going to do my best to look half-way respectable for the event and get a haircut.

I have this little theory that the hotter the girl is that is cutting your hair, the worse it's going to turn out, and the uglier they are, the better you're going to like your trim. I usually stand right by that theory so understandably I was pretty causious when I walked into great clips and all three of the girls in there were fairly good looking. If I were smart I would have turned right around and saved myself $15, a sub-par haircut, and most importantly a headache. Of course I didn't follow my instincts and instead let one of the girls usher me into her chair.

Now, I don't particularly like getting my hair cut, mainly because it fucks with my back since I'm tall and I always have to slouch in the chair because I always get midgets cutting my hair, okay, maybe just that one mexican girl was a midget but all the others were still pretty short. While severe spinal cord injuries are bad enough, it can always be worse, and it was.

While I was getting my haircut the two other girls were decorating some other girl's station for her birthday tomorrow. That normally would be all fine and dandy but these two girls were just flat out retarded. They had the combined intellect of a bagel, no cream cheese, just the bagel. It was sad really, I mean, I don't know how hard the concept of scotch tape is, but these two monkeys just didn't get it. Were they Amish up until last Sunday? I don't know, but it was just too captivating to watch to actually pay attention to the matter at hand, my haircut. While I was gawking at the special ed class in the mirror, the stylist(butcher, carver, whatever) had free reign on my head. Needless to say, when I looked back to myself, I wasn't pleased.

Me- Yeah, okay, I think that's enough off the top.
Her- Okay, let me level it off.
Me- No. That's enough.
Her- It's going to be all crooked if you leave it that way.
Me- You already made me look like a chemo patient, it's enough.
Her- Fine

She took out the trimmer, finished me up and blew me down with the hair dryer. Finally. Just as I was standing up one of the girls ran towards the back.

Girl 1- Where are you going?
Girl 2- I'm going to find some scissors.
Me- You've got to be shitting me.

My head almost exploded right there on the spot. I mean, this was fucking GreatClips and she had to go looking for a pair of scissors? I couldn't take it anymore, I had to get out of there. I handed the girl that cut my hair my credit card only to hear from one of the other girls: "Oh no, I spilled the confetti all over her station". I guess they had just planned on leaving the confetti in the little bottle and just setting it on her station for her to distribute it herself in the manner she saw fit or something.

If I could have tipped negative dollars I would have. I hate that place, I'm never going back. I think I'm going to buy me a flow-bee and do it myself from now on.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

My brain took the night off

In the past 24 hours I've done more shit I shouldn't have done than I have in the past year. To be completely honest, I really am suprised that I'm not dead or in prison right now, last night was that intense. If I thought anything was a bad idea last night, I didn't acknowledge it.

Think about everything that you're not supposed to do when you're under the influence alcohol and chances are I did it when I was out last night.
Drive motor vehicles? Check.
Fight people that are bigger than you and out number you? Check.
Opperate heavy machinery? Check.
Play with fire? Check.
Demolish buildings? Check.
Use firearms? Check.
Trust your friends that are intoxicated and doing the same things? Big check.

Bad decisions were made but fun was definitely had.

I work with a couple of guys that I have recently begun to hang out with. Ricky, Mike, and Cooper (yeah, I know, they sound like frat boy names or something but these guys are really like 32). They're not my normal type of friends but they're really good at getting me to do stuff I'm usually smart enough not to do, plus, they're all funnier than shit so it's okay.

It was the standard work day at a small company yesterday so we were all just hanging out bullshitting and occasionally helping customers when someone got the brilliant idea to shut that bastard down early and go out for drinks. Sweet, that's when I shine.

Within an hour we had closed down and were on our way to a local country bar because this is Colorado and there's a fucking bunch of them in our area. It was great, good music, cheap booze and a bunch of fake ass wannabe cowboys to fuck with, which we're really good at.

It didn't take long before we had nosed our way into a conversation with a group of girls who were with their pretend cowboy boyfriends who all actually live in highlands ranch (if you live in Colorado you know what kind of lives these guys actually have and it ain't on a ranch). These guys didn't like us right off the bat, maybe because we were making fun of them infront of their girlfriends with comments like:
"Hey Jethro, what do you do for work?"
"My name is Doug, and I work at a bank"
"Man, that's hardcore. Did you win that buckle for having a correct drawer count for a month straight?"

and maybe they didn't like us because we were trying to hit on their women just to piss them off.

Finally I think they had enough because one of the guys grabbed his girlfriend's hand and said, "come on guys, let's go" while Coop was talking to her.

Coop without missing a beat said "Hey Buffalo Bill, sit down and shut the fuck up for a minute, I'm trying to talk your girlfriend here into letting me eat her pussy". It might not have been the smartest thing to say when their group out-numbers ours by three but Goddamn that was funny.

For some unknown reason Buffalo Bill took exception to that and dove over the table and tackled Coop. It didn't take long for two more of his friends to join in pounding on him. Even though he probably deserved it, we had to come to the aid of our buddy and got the pseudo-buckaroos off of him. They all tried to gang up on us but we were quick to react and with some whiskey in our systems we took down the five of them that were in our faces to the floor, poured what was left of their drinks on them, grabbed their keys off the table, and ran out of that damn place with the other two guys in chase seriously threatening our lives. Once outside Ricky threw their keys on top of the building as we were running to the truck hoping that they all came together (which I realize is dumb now because between them and their girlfriends there were 11 of them and I seriously doubt they rode in a YMCA van or something on the way to the bar) in the same vehicle and wouldn't be able to come after us because there were more of them than there were us and we didn't feel like getting our asses beat. We hopped into the truck and cruised off deciding that it would probably be a good idea if we didn't go to anymore bars that night.

Matt's almost died that night tally: 1

Instead we decided it would be fun if we went to Mike's property to drink and party. If I had known what kind of shit we were going to do when we got there I probably would have called it a night and just gone home. The guy has almost ten acres in Evergreen so I thought it would be a good idea to drink there because we could do our thing without offending anyone and having any police come knocking to shut us down. It turns out when you have free reign on 10 acres and a lot of toys, you can get into waaaaay more shit.

Things started off as planned with us drinking on his deck but we get bored easily so that quickly changed.

Me: "We need a fire"
Mike: "I don't have any wood or matches."
Ricky: "What the hell are you talking about? We can just take the wood off the barn"
Me: "That's a good ass idea if I've ever heard one."

Mike lived in a old farm house and his property had a little old barn that he was going to be ripping down in the next couple weeks so this plan made perfect sense. Rather than cutting down a tree just to keep us warm we'll use wood we already have access too, we ought to be environmentalists.

Being the rocket scientists we are we quickly thought up the easiest way of bringing that barn down. We chained up his old Scout II to one of the beams in the attempt to rip big hunks of wood off the fucker. With the chains in place and the scout's bumper right next to the beam I hopped in and peeled off tearing through that four speed. Just about when I was going to shift into 3rd all the slack in the 100+ feet of chain was taken up and the scout was jerked to a sudden stop. Of course I wasn't wearing the lap belt in that thing while driving so my chest slammed into the steering wheel with my whole body weight behind it. I think I collapsed a lung. If you haven't had the wind knocked out of you recently I suggest you order it, it's delicious. I thought I was going to die. I'm never not going to wear my seatbelt again.

Matt's almost died that night tally: 2

Mike decied to give the same plan a go but he ended up snapping the chain so we had to improvise. This meant using the trackhoe he had rented to move some dirt to tear it down.

We are so fucking retarded. Why we didn't do that to begin with I'll never know. Dammit we're dumb when we're drinking. In a matter of ten minutes the whole thing was torn down into a huge pile of wood and screws, it's amazing how fast those things work.

It didn't take much longer than that for Ricky to grab a can of diesel fuel out of the shop and hand it to me. I had to climb to the top of the wood pile and pour that whole fucking thing out which wasn't a big deal but it actually took me a little bit to navigate my way down without slipping and killing myself. Mike had fished a road flare out of the shop and had lit it and chucked it on the pile just as I was almost off the thing. There was a huge fwoosh behind me and a big wave or heat, I figured I was about to be engulfed in flames so I dove off or atleast attempted to. I ended up stumbling and falling down with the set of Backdraft roaring behind me. I was finally able to climb off with Ricky's help with only a few scratches on me. I immeadiately went over and punched Mike in the arm as hard as I could for almost killing me via fire. I'm not afraid of dying but I would at least like the option for an open casket funeral and that wasn't going to happen if I had been charred up and looking like that guy in the wheelchair in Hannibal.

Matt's almost died that night tally: 3

That thing went up faster than I've ever seen any wood light before. After he started the fire Mike went in and grabbed a handle of morgan and a case of pepsi. Fire and four dudes can make short work of that much alcohol, and right after that is when all the good ideas come into play.

I don't know who suggested it but we eventually ended up giving eachother rides in the bucket of the trackhoe. Yeah, I know, that's real smart. Just imagine how absurd that would be if someone suggested that to you while you were sober.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do. You're going to climb up into the bucket of that big ass machine there and I'm going to get into the cockpit and start spinning you around in it until you're going fast enough to where I can extend that arm out all the way so the only thing holding you in is the centripetal force."

If you were sober you would tell that person that they're out of their fucking mind, but we weren't sober, not by a long shot. Hell, we weren't anywhere near buzzed, we were full on drunk and when you're that drunk you think everything is a good idea.

I was the second to go and I was psyched after seeing Coop flying around so it took no convincing for me to climb into the bucket. My turn wasn't nearly as fun. Sure it started off great but just as Mike got the arm all the way out he slowed down and that caused me to start sliding down.

There I am, a full grown man, drunk off his ass, getting a ride from a buddy in a piece of heavy machinery in the middle of the night next to a massive bonfire where I'm starting to slide out and I'm screaming for him to speed up. It was a good picture. I was really about to fall out when Mike realized that he wasn't going fast enough and if he didn't speed up or bring me down his buddy was going to die a horrible death. He brought me down right away and I got out as fast as I could to get on solid ground swearing that I was never going to do something stupid like that again. Of course we all know that's a damn lie, I can't pass up shit like that.

Matt's almost died that night tally: 4

Nothing will sober you up than honestly fearing for your life. Of course after a couple more beers your soberness departs and you're ready for more stupid shit.

We calmed down after a while and resumed our drinking by the fire for a couple more hours. It was actually pretty nice. It was really cool out but the fire was nice and hot so it felt good to be downing all that cold beer. We really didn't feel like picking everything up so Mike suggested a different way of cleaning up.

Within minutes he had grabbed a shotgun out of his safe and we were skeet shooting with all the beer bottles. If you've never done that, do it, it's a fucking blast. With all the gunshots and the flames we were bound to attract someone attention and that we did. I don't know what this person was thinking approaching four drunk dudes with a gun next to a big ass bonfire but he did.

Neighbor: "Oh my God, what happened to your barn?"
Mike: "It must have caught fire and burned down while we were at the bar" (in the most monotone voice ever)
N: "Your building just burned down? Why the hell are you guys so calm about it?
Ricky: "We're not right"

I think that pretty much sums it up, we couldn't possibly be "right" after all that shit.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

One flight I wished was cancelled

Now normally when I go to the movies and I see a bad one I forget about it and move on but last night I saw a movie that still irritates me right this moment.

Yesterday I went out with some friends to dinner and a movie after work since I've been too busy lately too see much of them. When we got to the theater all of us agreed on the one movie that actually looked half way decent; Flightplan with Jodie Foster. I've been seeing trailers for this movie for some time now and I thought it looked pretty good so I had my hopes up once again just to be shot down once again.

It was one of the worst movies I have seen in some time. Story sucked, acting sucked, visuals sucked, the fake plane sucked, plot sucked, literally everything about this movie sucked and it sucked hard. Jodie Foster hasn't been good in anything since Silence of the Lambs, plus, she looks really really old now and her boobies weren't as giggly as they were in Panic Room.

Who the hell cast that little girl? She was awful and it made me actually hate her. Bitch. She was just really really bad. Film companies should be required to cast Dakota Fanning if they want to use a child actress because all the other ones suck. Before seeing that movie I have never wanted to see a kid die more than that girl scout that lost our order for somoas.

God that movie sucked.

Here's a little rundown. Jodie Foster's kid isn't imagined, she's real. The arabs aren't really terrorists they're just arabs, damn dirty arabs. The air-marshal is really the bad guy. The flight attendent with the big lips is his partner. They want to blow up the plane. The explosives are hidden in Jodie Foster's husbands casket. Her husband didn't fall, he was killed by the air marshal. They needed Jodie Foster because she had knowledge of the plane and they were going to blame the hijacking on her. For some reason she knew a lot about the plane's inner quarters for being someone that just helped design the engines. The kid is hidden in avitronics. Avitronics of a real plane don't look like that because it would waste a lot of space. Erika Christensen's part shouldn't even exist, she does nothing the whole time. They land and everyone gets off except for the bad guys and Jodie. Jodie finds her daughter while trying to get away from the air-marshal and steals the detonator from the airmarshal. She finds a magical bomb proof compartment and puts her daughter in it, then she climbs in. The airmarshal is just feet away. They exchange quips. He shoots at her, she closes the bullet proof door just in time. She blows him up while her and her daughter are safe in the magic chamber. She opens up a compartment to the outside of the plane and walks through the smoke and fire carrying her unconcious kid like Sylvester Stallone in Demolition Man or something. All the passengers and crew on the tarmac wonder who she's carrying. The Captain lets everyone know it's her daughter that nobody thought existed, like we didn't see that line coming. They cut to her holding her kid who is still out cold in some gymnasium. Apparently there are gyms in airports in Newfoundland. Nobody seems to care that her daughter is comatose because they're in a gym instead of a hospital. A van magically appears in the gym. Jodie loads her kid in the van. Kid wakes up, says "are we there yet?". Arab guy who previously had a beef with Jodie helps her with her bag. Some how the van drives out of the gym. Movie ends. I get pissed.

So there's that movie.

You may think I ruined that movie for you, I think I just saved you $8.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

Dust Storm

Alright fuckers, it's story time. I thought I'd give you people a glimps at my childhood to maybe illustrate why I turned out the way I did. I literally have dozens of stories like this from my childhood that show pretty well why I am the person I am.

My mom and dad divorced when I was very young so I always did different things with both sides of the family that were special to that particular parent. The one thing all of my siblings and I have been doing with my dad since as far back as any of us can remember is going to the renaissance fesitval down in Larkspur, CO. I think I was about seven or eight the year when this particular event occured.

My dad made everyone stay over at his house one night because the next day we were going down to the festival. In the morning he piled my brothers, my sister, my stepmom and myself into the suv and started booking it down to Larkspur. It was the standard longer family car ride; joking, bickering, yelling, and my dad threatening us. I always hated those rides back then because I was one of the the middle kids so I always got fucked over. I had the standard middle child position in the car, the back seat, in the middle, with my feet on the hump, all because my older brother and sister would take the good window seats. I hate that fucking hump, I'm still bitter about that shit.

I'm not sure if I have any Colorado readers anymore but if I do and you've been to the festival down there you know that going into larkspur there are some railroad tracks that you have to cross. We had made it to that point and were waiting for a train to go by behind several other cars that were going to the same place because that's the only thing that goes on in that Godforsaken town. A few minutes had passed and everyone in the truck were all pretty quiet when my dad finally spoke.

He looked around pretty alarmed and said "Uh oh, dust storm coming. Everyone roll up your windows".

He was our father and all knowing so we had no reason to question him since we had no knowledge of weather conditions like dust storms, I mean, the oldest of us kids was just 13 at the time. Even our stepmom hit the button and rolled up her window, because her husband was a kind, honest man.

Once the windows were up, that mother fucker let out the nastiest, raunchiest, wettest fart ever in the history of farts. Naturally everyone's instinct was to roll the windows back down and that's when we found out that son of a bitch locked all the windows.

We were all tying to get the windows down because we knew that soon the fart would hit us but we thought we had a few seconds to get some fresh air in there before we smelled. Now, I don't know what the diffusion rate of a fart is but it ought to be researched because that damn thing spread faster than I though physically possible. It was horrible. It smelled like death. Everyone in the car was gagging and panicing trying to get out. The problem was, we couldn't, the child saftey locks were engaged on the back doors.

Have you ever seen the scene in Jurassic Park when the raptors are chasing the kids in the kitchen and the girl is in the little cabinet on the end of the counter and she's stuggling to force the door of the cabinet as one of the raptors is lunging after her? Remember her panic? Yeah, that was us trying to get out of that truck all while my dad was laughing his ass off. We were screaming and gagging, I think my little brother may have started crying in the front inbetween my dad and my stepmom.

It was the worst thing I had ever smelled in my little 8 yearold life and because I was in the middle I got the brunt impact of it. I almost died y'all. Seriously.

Finally my step mom had gotten past the panic stage, undid her seatbelt and got out. She saw my sister pounding on the glass and opened the back door and when she did we all piled out of the truck as fast as we could.

There we were gasping for air and thanking the Lord that we hadn't suffocated in that hot stealy deathtrap when we all realized that all the people in the cars behind us were staring at us kids crawling on the ground and coughing. Great, for the rest of the day people are going to be staring at us because we're the whacko family. Ah the renaissance fesitval, good times.

So that was one of the first times I almost died and the only time todate that I was almost killed by a parent. That event was one of the main building blocks in shaping my sense of humor and my really my whole personality. It's not exactly a secret that my father and I don't have the best relationship but I do have to say this about him, he is one funny mofo and I thank him for passing on his sense of humor to me.

Friday, September 09, 2005

Seat crisis

I just got yelled at for leaving the seat up, not by my Mother. No, that would make sense. I got yelled at for leaving the seat up by my stepdad. At first I thought it was just weird that he would say something to me about that when all of a sudden that I realized it was much stranger than that.

My stepdad pees like a girl.

This is the only male role model I've really had at all in my life because my dad is a piece of shit, and he just came out and told me that he sits down and pees like a girl. I don't know if you people know how emotionally damaging this is to me. The only thing that could make this worse is if I found out that he runs or throws like a girl too.

He's what, 51 years old? How long has he been doing this? Does he only do this at home or does he do it out in public? Has he done it at sporting events or other guy places? Does he squat in the woods while camping to pee instead of standing and peeing on a tree? Why? This isn't right, no man should do this. Oh God, what the hell is happening around here?

I'm going to have to start climbing up a step ladder and peeing off of it into the toilet just to make up for the total vertical distance average that we just lost when I found out he sits down to pee.