Thank you, Gene.

-YourFriendMatt

What is milk made of?...

"But seriously." Turning to his two friends as seriously as he could, "if it’s only 2% milk, what the hell is the rest of it made of?"

Recently Jamie and I were taking a walk. We overheard three college freshman aged, tie-dye sporting, coachella-going hooligans discussing, in detail, the components and ingredients of milk. They were walking in the same direction as us so we figured we might as well listen in to their views of the worlds. 

Now, I feel old when I hear myself start to say how concerned I am for the future, but holy shit, the ingredients of milk? They also then discussed how when it gets hot out, “it sucks, bad man.” The conversation quickly turned to a discussion about how they wished they could invent something to cool down the temperature. “I mean, maybe if we had a box that could cool down the air and then push it out to the rest of the room so we could all be chill, that might be awesome.” They all agreed as I slapped my forehead in disbelief. 

Their conversation bounced around so much we could barely follow. It was as if a kitten had discovered a yarn ball for the first time and was batting it around the living room floor. So innocent. So happy. So blissfully unaware of anything else at all that causes threat or problem that might lie in front of them.

Hearing the knuckleheads discuss their buffoonery in detail, it made me reflect on my younger days. Is there really a problem with the youth? Or are they just kids? Was I like this? I mean, at one point in my life I thought it was awesome to have blue hair, at another point I figured wearing girls jeans was awesome and for a very short time wearing only black, red and white was all I did. 

I am sure people made judgements about me, but I turned out fine. Listening to them now is definitely entertaining. I am sure these boneheads will get it figured out and change the world.

Maybe they will even invent that air-cooling-machine they thought was such a great idea.

I Got Stuck...Part Four...

"Holy shit. How many planes am I going to miss today?" 

I had been at the airport now for close to 15 hours. I slept here the night before with my girlfriend, Jamie. After we missed two flights in a row, spent the night on the airport floor and missed two more in the morning, that’s she finally got out. She had scored the last seat on a direct flight to Philadelphia. I was not so lucky. 

As I continued to hang out in LAX, making friends with whoever would talk to me, I learned that there had been a slew of cancelled flights the day before going to Philadelphia. For what reason? I still don't know, but I do know it was affecting my vacation, bowel movements and sleep habits. 

I did get to meet some interesting characters as I sluggishly crawled from gate to gate trying to get on any plane back to the east coast. I ended talking to one guy who wrote episodes for Are You Afraid of the Dark, including one of my favorite episodes found here. I also made friends with a metal band and got drinks with some sales agents in the worlds smallest beer garden, LAX is hell on earth.

"Hey, I like this beer."

One such character I met was a drunk woman, possible on meth, who could not remember her name, where she lived or why she was at the airport. I was sitting, waiting to miss another flight, as I noticed the woman across from me slumped over, drooling and giggling to herself. I thought, “Well, this should get interesting.” I happily perked up as the LAPD arrived to get this show started.

“Ma’am, whats your name?” The first officer asked as she drooled some more. “Was she like this on the plane?” The officer asked the flight attendant, “She was fine and then someone contacted us when she tried to sell drugs on the plane to any passengers. Then she just took all the drugs since no one was buying and that’s when she started cursing and causing a scene.” I thought to myself, “Man, this lady is awesome. Who has the balls to try to sell drugs in the air and then decides to just take all the drugs if no one is buying?” This is an American hero. The drug dealing woman started to giggle some more and that’s when they pulled out the wheelchair and handcuffs. They moved her into the chair and then cuffed her as she was rolled away.

Just another beautiful morning here in LAX…now, let’s see if I can get on this plane…

-YourFriendMatt

I Got Stuck...Part Two...

"I wonder if we'll ever get the hell out of here?" I stated in uncertainty staring at the clock, begging it to go faster.

It was almost 4am and we had slept in the cold LAX airport on black and while marble floor. Very comfortable and accommodating. At this point a cardboard box on a heating grate in New York would be the Ritz Carlton. Jamie and I stared at each other coldly, hating each other, damp sweat and anxiety poured over us. Silence. We just want to get out of here. "This sucks." Was a common response to our deliriously back and forth conversation as we tried to keep our spirits up. 

The clock stuck 3:45am and we packed up out makeshift bedding of carry-on items. With all the strength we could muster, we gathered our bags, which seemed to weight a billion pound now. We had to get through security. Rounding the corner for TSA we could see everyone was already in line. Another 40 minutes later we were there. The first time we went through security check the day before they pulled Jamie aside to rip her bag apart. She had a camera and a bottle of perfume she forgot to take out that set off certain alarm...and I guess she looked like a terrorist. Just for fun, I took her bag and left the exact same camera and perfume in there, we had time and I wanted to see what would happen. We made it through security without any trouble. Feeling safe at the airport yet? Same objects in the bag, no security stopped us. Wow. 

We made it to our gate. We still had another hour to see if we were going to make it out. We are flying standby so there is no guarantee. We got coffees through the endless line at the only Starbucks in our terminal, returning to stare at the clock again.

The plane started boarding. Our building anticipation deflated as the gate agent announced over the intercom, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are going to begin boarding our nonstop flight to Philadelphia. This is a full flight and all passengers are checked in. We have a full flight. We will not have room for everyone's carry-on bags, if you have a roller bag, please bring it up now to get it checked."

"Welp, we aren't getting out on this one. Maybe we can take a nap." I said, sipping my shitty airport Starbucks. We made a new carry-on baggage bed and laid out watching the happy passengers board their plane tipping our coffees to them. The plane took off and we waved them goodbye.

"When's the next one?" Jamie asked, pulling out her neck pillow and eye mask. "Oh, I don't know, another 2 hours?" I responded. We took a nap and waited it out...

-YourFriendMatt

I was stuck...Part One...

"I left Thursday and I arrived on Saturday. It's only an hour flight. So, no. No. I am not okay." I said to the gate agent.

Over the last few days I got stuck in LAX trying to get home to see my family for a summer vacation. What we thought was going to be a relaxing trip home turned into 3 days of hell in the airport. 

My mother works for the airlines so we fly for basically free. I know, I know. First world problem, right? Anyway, we arrived at the airport Thursday night and expected to jump right on the next flight. This is how it has always worked out and I have never had a problem. Sure, I have missed a flight here or there, but have never spent more that a few hours in an airport. Well, I guess all that good luck ran out because not only did we miss the flight we attended to get on, we miss the next one also.

We had our dog with us and decided to take her out to the baggage claim area, it's not fair to her to hold it while we sit in the airport all night, right? We gather our various, humungous, bags and made our way out to baggage claim. when we to back in TSA looked at us like we were idiots. "Oh, Hey Baby!" The overweight wig-sporting TSA agent squawked at us, "You can't go through here, no sir, we are closed until 4 am, we will see you in the morning baby!" She pointed to the clock that indicated it was 12:15am. We could not get back to our gate for another 4 hours.

It didn't make sense for us to travel 45 minutes back home, to get an hour an a half of sleep to just get up at 2 am to make it back to LAX. So. The bench next to the airport exit door is where we set up shop and made our bed for the night on top of our baggage.

To be continued...

-YourFriendMatt

Bedazzled...

It is rare that Jamie and I get time to hang with our schedules being so hectic but we recently had a chance to do an overnight at Disneyland. We were having a cocktail before heading to the park and I guess Disneyland liked the photo I posted and tweeted it back to me with a little Pixie Dust.

I'd like to think Walt would approve of this.

Thanks Tink! 

Scenic Route...

 "Where in the hell are we and who owns all these cows?"

This weekend Jamie and I took the scenic route up to San Francisco to visit with some friends. We love road trips and we ecstatic that we had extra time to take the long way up the coast. We cruised up the PCH for hours past countless forgotten beach towns and cattel farms. It's amazing how many cows there are wondering the golden hills of California. Honestly, who the hell do they belong too? 

When we finally ran out of gas, which always seems to happen happens when you are about 80 miles from the nearest gas station, we found King City.  We didn't getting to spend much time there but we were able to find this actual general store and meandered the dusty aisles for souvenirs. This was a true truck stop but we had the sense this was the kind of town that the Disney/Pixar movie Cars was based on. The owner was elated that we were there, showed us around, petted our dog and even threw in a free frisbee with our purchases.

What was your last road trip? 

Fraudulent Charges...

"I am not saying it was you, but someone spent $100 on condoms, stool softener and nail polish at Walgreens Mr. Bates." - Bank Customer Service. 

I am a victim of fraudulent charges...for the second time in my life. I am told it happens to the best of us. Whoever said that is a dickhead though. Fraud blows. The last time this happened the bank froze my account and we set up a covert operation. I had to call from a specific number when I was at a local ATM. They could then unfreeze my account for 90 seconds so I could get some money to last me until they sent me a new card. I felt like a secret agent. Like we are about to sneak into a Swiss bank account and take them for everything they got. Then I looked at my bank statement and reality set back in.

I currently have no access to my money and I can't say that my customer service has been that stellar either. When they say they work banker's hours they weren't kidding. I wish I worked Monday through Friday 9-5. Conveniently, my fraud happened on a weekend, but don't worry, they will be working on getting my money back in a few business days...starting Monday. “Do you have any checks that you can use until we get you your new card?” My banks customer service agent asks over the phone. “Are you kidding me? It’s 2015. Who the hell even knows how to write a check? Can we just expedite me a new card and we can be done with this?” I reply. “Yes, Mr. Bates, for an additional $15 we can expedite the card and you should have it sometime early next week.” I am stunned. Yep. That sounds about right. Sure, why not. Let's do that.

Honestly though, after I got over the shock and anger of this situation, it has not been that bad. As I am currently write this I have a $1 bill in my pocket, which Jamie gave me, and have been coming up with inventive ways to pays for things. I say we bring back the bartering days. "I don't know, what do you say? I give you this nice pen in exchange for that bag of chips?" But I don't think that guy at 7-11 was amused by my offer. Apps have really helped. The Starbucks App has been great. I reload my gold card with them using my PayPal account so I have been living off a healthy diet of vanilla coffee and scones. Did you know they have a new Mini Frappuccino? What will they come up with next?

Anyone else ever go through this?

It's not my birthday...

“This is probably the biggest moment of my life and you are brewing beer.” 

I work retail. I always have. I tried to get out once but for whatever reason I ended up relapsing. A retail schedule enables me to forget what a weekend is and get excited for a Monday or Thursday like they are a Saturday night. It's not out of the ordinary that I find myself day-drinking on a Monday after working 8 days straight and calling a friend to see if they want to hang out. “I would but it's noon. On a Monday. I am obviously at work.” Is their normal response to my invitation. Over the years I have learned how to have fun on my own and have taken up many hobbies. I started a candle company once. Then started a repurposed furniture website with my girlfriend. I took up golf. I even took up brewing my own beer. 

This bring us here. One day, on my lonesome, I got the required ingredients to make a porter and set out to spend the afternoon brewing. I cranked the jams danced around like a moron to Hall and Oates enjoying the day when I turned around to see my brother standing in the doorway. Staring at me dancing he raised an eyebrow; as if it was me interrupting him at his house. Startled, I switched off the music and asked him what he was doing. Shouldn't he be at work? He doesn't work retail?

"Grab me a beer and sit down. I want to talk to you." He states taking a seat at the dinning room table placing a bagged present between us. He seem to have something on his mind. "Who is the present for?" I ask and start digging around. He promptly slapped my hand like you would with a child about to touch a hot stove. "Hey, wait a minute. It's for you but hold on." We both cracked open some Busch tall boys, dad's favorite, and tried to make small talk. We both really suck at it and finally gave up. "Okay, fuck it. Open up the damn present." He stated and grabbed his phone to take pictures of me. I kept thinking how weird it was that he wasn't telling me anything about this and it wasn't my birthday. I slowly opened the present as he snapped photos eager with anticipation. Two cigars fell out wrapped in pink and blue ribbons. My brain froze and then time stopped. There was a shift in the universe. Are we adults now? In a matter of milliseconds billions of questions raced through my head. I snapped back and felt like I was in a washing machine, my vision blurred and the room turned upside down, colors blending together. My body couldn't keep up with my thought process as I blurted out the only thing I could think of...a faint but prominent "Huh?"

To my knowledge he had been seeing someone on and off. Nothing serious, right? I had been with Jamie for a few years now and for some reason my first question was "Jamie's pregnant and this is how she wanted to tell me?" He stared as you would to a complete imbecile. I don't think I have seen a face of more disgust or disbelief. He had to be thinking to himself "No. There's no way he is this stupid." He final spoke "No you fucking idiot! Your going to be an uncle!" 

Hey! I'm an uncle!

Pete - I will never forget that day and love you man. Declan rules.

California Screamin'

"Man, that noise did not sound good." I thought to myself right before my coaster came to a screeching halt.

Yesterday Jamie and I went to Disneyland. If you follow my Instagram (@MattBates) this probably comes as no surprise. We are first time annual pass-holders and since we purchased the passes we have already be to Disneyland 12 times...in 10 weeks. That's roughly about $2,000 if we would have purchased regular tickets every time instead of getting annual passes...I think we're getting our money's worth.

We grabbed a beer as we walked through the park after eating a quick burrito dinner. I am getting good at reading the crowds of zombie-like, fatigued out-of-state vacationers trying to cram in as much as the park can offer on their yearly vacation. We strolled passed California Screamin'. Although it looked packed and would take an hour to get on the ride; it was just the crowd traffic around the area. The real wait time to get on the ride was only 10 minutes. This is very unusual for a Saturday where ride lines can take up to an hour and a half. I turned to Jamie excitedly, "We have to get on! You almost done your beer!" As it turned out she didn't want to get on a roller coaster 15 minutes after eating a burrito...followed up by a beer. I could see her point, but I have an iron stomach. She encouraged me to go my as a solo rider and we would meet up after. Taking advantage of the opportunity I kissed her forehead, downed my beer and ran off like a 5-year-old flailing my limbs around jumping for joy.

I quickly got through the line and when the cast member asked me how many were in my party so he could get me on the ride I told him I was a single rider. I also told him I would be willing to wait until the next ride went if I could sit in the front which he didn't mind. The ride I was suppose to be on shot off and I was next to sit front seat for this roller coaster. The coaster pulled in and the riders filed off. I shot Jamie a quick text before stepping on the ride to let her know I was about to go if she wanted to see me off. My phone back in my pocket I stepped on the ride, pulled down the safety bar and waited to be launched.

The ride released and we moved forward. California Screamin' stops right around the first corner so you can see the first incline you'll be flung over. This also gives you family members a good photo opportunity. Jamie stood looking over as I waved or gave her a thumbs up for the front row. The countdown started and I heard an awful metal screeching sound followed by a booming thud. Not normal. And not what you want to hear right before your roller coaster takes off. "Okay Screamers! Ready in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, go!" Echoed over the sound system as our coaster stayed stationary. I looked over to Jamie and shrugged. "Okay Screamers! Ready in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, go!" Again over the sound system and nothing. I started to look around as if I was being punked. "Okay Screamers! Ready in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, go!" Nothing again but more horrible metal grinding sounds. On-lookers stared at us on the ride as we all tried to play it off like we weren't kind of scared in a Final Destination kind of way. This was starting to worry me but we all remained in good spirits. The suspense was started in the build. In my head I started to think what if this thing really is broke? How the hell are we going to get out of here? I mean, I am sure we will be fine right? This is Disney. They know what they are doing? Right? Besides, I am kind of like Macgyver, I can fix this. 

Although it was probably a routine maintenance problem for Disneyland it scared the crap out of me. We probably only sat for a few moments before the ride finally released but it felt like an eternity. I did enjoy the ride when it took off and will continue to go on it...repeatedly. But if I am being honest, I held on for dear life this time around. Even still, through a brief moment of uncertainty...you can't pass up giving the camera on the coaster a goofy face if you know where it is.

Kid behind me was not as pumped as I was...

Ever get stuck on a ride at an amusement park?

-YourFriendMatt

Gone Green...

California takes recycling seriously. This was a huge culture shock when we moved. It is a good thing that the culture here takes recycling so serious, but took some getting use too. Heaven forbid you put a napkin in the wrong trash bin around here. "Don't you realize what you have done! That napkin takes 6 weeks to decompose! If we recycle it we can have it back by the end of the week!" This is a typical response from some blonde haired, flip flop wearing, sunglass sporting hippie. It's amazing how they seem to pop out of nowhere to discuss going green like they are a Trash Fairy-God-Mother. I usually back away slowly, apologize and think to myself "Shouldn't he be at work? How can they just guard the trash can all day?"

Deciding to embrace the recycling mentality we started sorting our paper products and I decided to keep all our aluminum and glass. There is a recycling center next to our local supermarket that will pay you to bring your recyclables. Boom. Make money? Enjoy adult beverages? Go green? This is probably the best thing I could do for the environment. Mother nature would be proud.

"You say alcoholism. I say go green." - A Wise Man.

It takes us about 5-6 months to get a decent amount of aluminum and glass worth taking down to the recycle center. The only thing is a majority of our recyclables are beer and wine containers. This makes me look like a raging alcoholic every time I go. When the local transients who spend their time dumpster diving and yelling at beach seagulls start shooting me looks I know I have done a good job. "Son, do you need help." one of them asked me once with genuine concern and I responded with "Gee, I don't know." Adding a long pause for effect "Yeah, I guess I could." Another Pause, "Grab an end! This stuff is heavy!"

Always remember recycling is good. And recycling, drinking and getting paid is even better. 

Did you know it takes a year for a wool sock to decompose? What does that even mean? Who's throwing out a wool sock?

Damn you, Hootie...

 "Holy Crap! This song is awful." I state but no matter of the volume she doesn't hear me. My girlfriend loves country music.

I am forever doomed to listen to twanging guitars and lyrics about red dirt roads. I guess it's not all bad. The older stuff seems to hit a lot harder than the crap Nashville is cranking out now. A lyric from a song I heard the other day went something along the lines of "Chew tobacco, chew tobacco, chew tobacco, spit." Now, I am not a song writing master but holy hell that was the best that song-writing team could do? They have to have what, a billion dollars? The worst part is no matter how much I hate the song it always gets stuck in my head, or hers, all night. And we always only know one line from the song so we repeat it over and over again! I guess that team did do it right, bastards. Even Hootie - of The Blowfish fame - is getting in on the action. That's right. Hootie is a country singer. Yes, I know his name is Darius. But I feel I'm not alone when I say he will be Hootie to everyone until the end of time.

Regardless, there is just something about this woman. I love her. So, she can listen to the country station and dance with the frozen peas and roasted chicken we just bought for dinner. I am sure she puts up with enough of my crap daily. I thought the video attached was too good not to share. This is one of her new favorite jams and when we hear it this is her reaction. There will never be a shortage of new country songs on the radio. She will continue to fall in love with them but every time she does something like this I fall more in love with her. Even if the song is crap.

Damn you, Hootie!

-YourFriendMatt

The American Public...Part 2...Mr. Prick

"Uh! I don't know how that got there!" He said frantically as he tried to hit any button that would close the x-rated open web-browser that read "Grandpa's Christmas Cookie.”

Author Side-note: Ew. 

I use to do freelance tech support for a small law firm. It was the best job ever, but I was working through school so anything with a paycheck seemed good enough for me. One day while making the rounds at the office one of the partners flagged me down. He was a real prick. Never said hello to me, always cut me off, especially when I was explaining things to him. He even asked me to leave the room while I was fixing his computer because “The Big Boys were talking.” He then laughed at me as I left the room with his colleagues. Once again, I can't say this enough, this guy is a prick.

"What the hell is a cloud anyway!" As his boney pointer finger digs into my chest. I ask him how I can help him and he proceeds to tell me how nobody can fix his problems. "No shit." I thought to myself. “All I need is for this-to-talk-to-this and then you can leave.” As he slams his tablet next to his desktop computer. “You got that? Are you paying attention?” Almost cutting himself off, then scoffs. I start looking through his preferences, settings, etc asking standard questions “Sir, do you know your password?” Turning to look at him. He shoots me a look like I have just murdered his family. “How? How the fuck am I suppose to remember a password, you dumb shit?” Oh, I forgot. I am a complete dickhead. It's my fault you can't remember the same password you use everyday to get into your email. My bad. This is when I notice the porn open...but hidden behind another application. And, not just any porn. The title of this erotically graphic adult adventure is 'Grandpa's Christmas Cookie.'

This prick goes on to tell me my millennial generation is a bunch of "dumb-asses" and have no respect. He then tells me I need to "get my shit together" and stop "dicking around" when he has so much work to do. Clearly, I am not the one dicking around here and I know how to push this porn, Grandpa's Christmas Cookie, to the front lobby TV. I double-click while he continues yelling at me and before you know it two tan, barely-legal spread legs topped with a Santa hat are being broadcast to the entire office. Nothing is more priceless than watching someone, especially such a fucking prick, scramble to make their dirty porn go away. He pokes the monitor - which is NOT a touch screen - presses delete and finally just shakes the monitor to make it stop. The entire office was blasted with sex as he works any combination of keys to make it all go away. I love when people forget that their desktop computer monitor isn't a touch screen.

Needless to say I didn't last long there and Mr. Prick never talked to me again. It is my hope that he learned his lesson...but probably not. People like him never do. Regardless, I think we can all agree on two things. Porn is great when you don't get caught watching it...and that guy is a prick.

-YourFriendMatt

Enjoy this post? Check out The American Public Part One here!

Airstream Adventuring...

We set out on an adventure and found it. 

Airstreaming...

This year Jamie and I have made a commitment to continue our adventurous ways. We will schedule as many trips or over-nights, within our budget, at least once a month...if we can. 

Over the last year we uprooted our lives and moved 3,000 miles away from everything comfortable. We have seen our fair share of setbacks, poverty and have remained positive to come out on top. Now that we have laid a thin layer of roots down in Southern California we felt it is time to start seeing what was at our fingertips.

This past weekend we found an Airstream camper in the middle of nowhere on AirBNB. It was within our budget, close enough to home and just the right about of danger…or adventure…that we were comfortable with. As we pulled into the farm-like gates we were a little confused. Didn’t we move away from the country? I thought LA was a city? Evidently Malibu can get very country, very quickly. We found ourselves roaming scenic, winding roads until we finally found our destination. A scruffy mountain-man on an ATV greeted us with two humongous, matted rescue dogs as we pulled on a dirt path with our 2004 Ford Focus...not the ideal mountaineering car. But she is trusty.

“Hi! I am Matt and this is Jam…” I shouted from the rolled down drivers side window being cut off by his roaring, scratchy voice. He was trying to project his voice over his engine with a careless “Yeah, That’s great, kid! Follow that dirt path up about a mile!" Pointing aimlessly "You’ll find it! If you don’t, you’re a moron!” He cackled and drove off. "Welp, up that dirt path we go." As we shrugged at each other. Jamie and I found ourselves scaling this dirt path, on the side of a cliff at about a 45 degree angle. I caressed the dashboard and wiped the sweat from my brow exclaiming "Okay, Ol' Trusty. We have been through a lot, but please make it up this mountainside! Don't die on me now!" Our car engine was revving so hot that it sounded like it was going to fall out. Jamie looked to her right out the passenger side window as our tires spun inches away from what would certainly be our death if we made a wrong move. A pack of wild goats, no joke, I wish I had a picture, greeted us as we reach the top and then scampered off. A rounding curve led us directly to our home for the night.

This is called ‘glamping.’ A mix of the word glamour and camping, I assume. When you go on a camping adventure, but have most the amenities of home. This thing was running hot water, electricity, a refrigerator, shower, septic system, full oven and breathtaking view of the Santa Monica mountains. Our white-haired, scruffy host eventually made his way up the mountain on his ATV to greet us, his fellow scruffy friends by his side.  Without missing a beat he started with “Now, if you see any big black shadows moving around in the middle of the night don't be scared. It’s not the devil or a bear. It’s just the horses scrounging around.” I paused for a minute and followed excitedly with “You have wild horses roaming around here?” I asked as he replied with a short “You calling my horses wild?” I immediately shut up and let him show us in.

We unpacked, especially our cooler of beer and took a walk through Backbone Trail located right off our front door. For the rest of the night we unplugged playing Trivial Pursuit (which I lost), cooked a camping stew, listening to oldies and laughing together. Having no TV is a blessing. We often get so wrapped up in our daily that we forget to have a conversation.

To our surprise it rained overnight resulting a cloudy, misty morning as we shared coffee, staring out to the fresh, green hills littered with bright foliage and boulders. 

This dude...is ready to party...

Side-note: It started raining right after this photo was taken and we immediately started playing Uno...and quickly turned it into a drinking game...it was 9am. 

-YourFriendMatt

The Nose Ring...

Holy shit! I think you ripped it out!” Jamie screeched in my direction. “My bad.” Trying to subdue my laughter.

Recently my family came to visit for the week. My mothers first trip out to Southern California to see the life her son and girlfriend had made for themselves. My sisters first trip to LA as an adult. This is a big moment for our family and we were all thrilled. Not to mention Philadelphia is 12 degrees and covered in snow so it is a nice break from the "Polar Vortex" they are currently experiencing. 

Oh, ya know, just hanging at the tattoo shop with my mom. That is blood on my sister's shirt...

We had a few ideas planned for their trip and taking them to see the chaos Venice Beach offers was a must. I don’t know what it is but every time family comes to visit, we go a little crazy. In the infamous words of the famed Canadian actor-turned-rapper-turned-actor Drake...YOLO. Case in point, last time Jamie’s parents came for a visit she and her mother decided to get tattoos one afternoon. Why not? When they’re 2-for-1 you’d be an idiot to pass up that kind of deal. This time around it was Jamie and my baby sister who decided to get piercings. Surprisingly, but not really too surprisingly, my mother instigated the whole thing. She cheered them on from the sidelines and paid for it all. Way to go, Mom!

A few days passed and they headed back east. Jamie still had to nurse the fresh hole in her nose so it wouldn't get infected. I came home from work one night and our dog, Piper, greeted me by running around, jumping excitedly and accidentally knocking things over as she does. This creates an effect on the house and we all started rough housing.  Jamie and I went to pick up Piper at the same time when my left hand perfectly grazed Jamie's face, fingernail first meeting the faux-diamond-topped piercing sitting on the side of her right nostril. The piercing now stuck under my fingernail was ripped out of her nose with one swoop....accidentally of course. 

The scream of pain that came out of her next is still ringing in my ears. "You dick! What the fuck!" Followed by a string of obscenities that I couldn't make out as she ran for the bathroom. Blood running out of the inside and outside of her nose life a faucet. It was everywhere. I pulled the toilet paper off the roll and handed it to her to stop the rushing blood. “You are such a moron! Why would you do that! My nose!” And I just took it...laughing on the inside. "Yeah, I know, I'm a bastard." I agreed and apologized.

We got her patched up and she iced it down. She eventually got the ring back in her nose a few hours later as she shot eye-daggers from the couch I was not allowed to sit on now. 

Important safety tip: refrain from rough housing with a tiny, furry dog when you have a fresh nose piercing. It could end in disaster.

-YourFriendMatt

Hell on Earth...

I am at the Department of Motor Vehicles. This is hell.

February 3rd 2015 - It's a Tuesday morning. The DMV opens at 8 on a beautifully brisk SoCal morning. I grab my coffee-to-go mug and leave to get there by 7:30am, to be the first in line when they open. Pulling onto Colorado Ave. I see a line of people and think nothing of it. After all my local DMV is across the street from Universal Music Group, maybe there is a celebrity signing or free concert. Nope. This endless line of disgruntled zombies holding paperwork is here to get a title changed or take their drivers test. This should be fun.

They don't open for another half hour. 

This is probably my fault. I should have followed the rules, been aware of my expiring license and got it taken care up in a timely manner making a reservation. I did not do any of that and now I am paying the price. When I finally got into the building, just to get into another line, the chipper administrative officer told me I needed a reservation to take my California drivers exam and added "They next one I can schedule you for..." trailing off in silence squinting at the glow coming from his computer screen "Is late March! Wow! That's not bad at all." I stare in awe. I can't do anything but I can't be without a license for a month and a half. I beg and plead asking if there is anything else I can do and he brings me in close to tell me a secret. "The DMV in Granada Hills accepts walk-ins." He whispers "You should be able to get in and out of there quick!" I thank him for the tip and jump in the car - and expired license - to Granada Hills.

After sitting in in the other Hell on Earth Los Angeles provides to the world - The 405 - I arrive a quick hour and a half later at the next DMV and there is no place to park. Usually not a good sign. Remember how that guy at the other DMV said I should be able to get 'In and out'? Well, this is what I walked into.

5 hours, 3 different lines and a panic attack later I walked out. 5 hours. 5 hours of sitting. I had so much time on my hands I wrote this blog, downloaded the DMV App and took practices driver tests. I even called home to a few people to let them know I was still alive.

This is a tale of caution. Don't make the same mistake I did. Make a reservation for the DMV. And if someone gives you advice at the DMV punch him in the balls.

When I Grow Up...

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." - Ferris

Hi, my name is Matt, I am 27 years old and I have no idea what I want to do when I grow up...and that's okay. 

See? What the hell am I doing here?

It is my hope that someone out there read that and sighed with relief. Don't let anyone fool you, most of us have no idea what we want to do. Some of us may think we know what we want to do but I don't know if anyone ever really has it figured out. And if you're reading this and you did know what you wanted and you're so successful please comment below to help the rest of us.

Reflecting on the last year or so I am coming to realizations in my life. First is that life rules. I have countless people in my life that I am grateful for. I live by the beach (let that sink in) in Santa Monica with beautiful girlfriend (and now a tiny pomeranian with a jaw problem; see below), my family fully supports me from 48 states away, I have a job I love and hobbies I love even more, health, and I ride my beach cruiser to work. Even after reflecting on all that I can't help but wonder what's next?

I'm not worried about failing as much as I worry about understanding the chances that could lead to...something. Failure or success. Am I keeping my eye out for opportunities that are right in front of me? Am I doing everything I can to put myself "out there" (wherever that is) to meet new people, see new places and fully take advantage of the world around me. Am I putting too much pressure on myself to "change the world" or should I start by changing one small thing at a time? 

If you have read this far into this post thank you. I hope that you feel relieved that someone in the world feels the same way you do. Hopefully someone feels this way and I am not a total loser...but what the hell this is my blog...fuck it. And...that being said...this is incredibly personal. But...once again this is my blog...so what the hell. 

Let's take a risk today. And tomorrow. And the next day after that. Let's start small by smiling at someone new, take a moment to slow down some careless interaction like buying coffee and look at it from another perspective. Compliment someone's shirt who knows maybe they will offer you a job or be your best friend in 10 years. Take an alternate route to work, school or the store and see what's there. Make everyday count. I have to continually remind myself to live in the moment. Plan for tomorrow but live for today. 

I may not know what I want to do when I grow up but let's have good time trying to figure it out.

Does any of this make sense?  

-YourFriendMatt

Blink 18...Get Your Shit Together...

Fuck Tom! No. Wait. Fuck Mark! Or is Travis an asshole? Who should I be pissed at?

If you haven't heard, and care about Blink 182 at all, Tom (kind of) quit the band. Or didn't? It all seems very confusing as of now as more news and allusive Instagram, Facebook and Twitter post keep coming out from the band. This is basically a 27-year-old, pop punk loving dudes worst case scenario of a soap opera. 

On Monday one of my half-bearded millennial friends ran up to me asking if I had heard the news. One of my childhood (and life long) favorite bands has made some horrible announcements. Evidently Blink 182 can't get their shit together and Tom quit; then quickly posted that he didn't.

The Breakdown of Blink-Gate 1/26-1/28 as I see it:

1/26 - 12:01pm - KROQ posts article that Tom quit the band...but Matt Skiba will be filling in.

Matt Skiba replaces Tom...Photo from that one weird Matt Skiba album...Wait? Which one? I don't know either.

1/26 - 12:02pm - I cry uncontrollably.

Handsome. 

1/26 - 1:34pm -  Tom post instagram picture of some overweight Tron guy and says he "Never quit the band."

Pretty sure Tom was actually abducted by aliens in the early 2000's. Remember when his voice changed? And he didn't talk about dicks anymore? AND...this guys dick. You definitely looked. What the fuck is going on there? Good dick, dude!

1/26 - 1:35pm - 9PM - I am happy and I look forward to new Blink music and the future and my life rules.

1/26 - 9pm - Rolling Stone, somehow, has more connections than me and was able to get an interview with Travis and Mark, where they call Tom out for being a boner.

Basically what is going on now. It is crazy how history repeats itself...except now they both have $60 million each...Oh! What money does. Bring back the lip rings, tall socks and backwards/sideway FlexFits...

1/26 - 9pm -  1/27 - 12:27am - The next day - I am inconsolable. Basically and human mess-ball of emotion. I put on my Batman pajamas and drink till I pass out on the couch. 

1/27 - 12:27am - Tom tweets and then deletes "Don't pretend there isn't more to the story." With another comment about kicking out Travis.

1/27 - 9:28am - Radio silence...for now...I think all is lost...I start playing my favorite Blink songs...but then...

1/27 - 3:37pm - Tom writes open letter to fans about his side of the story.

I miss the old Blink. The Blink that got naked with its friends and ran around being a bunch of foul-mouth hooligans. This is what I based my entire life from. Boys, get your shit together, have fun, be happy and go do what you do best. Bring smiles to everyone through music or antics. I get it, you have other commitments but come on. Get aligned. I have no idea what to do now. I am going back to bed and listening to Take Off Your Pants and Jacket. Not the music. Just the last 30 tracks of dick jokes..

For your viewing pleasure. The year was 2000 and all was right with the world.

-YourFriendMatt

Hello 2015...

Shit to do in 2015:

-Get passport and get off North America…even for a weekend.

-Play drums for a band at a show in LA…and beyond.

-Post a blog once a week…totaling at least 52 post in 2015.

-Work on next film.

Shit accomplished in 2014:

-Survived Los Angeles for 365 days straight…fuck yeah!

-Fell even more in love with Jamie Cartlidge.

-Got promoted.

-Launched YourFriendMatt.com.

-Adopted our dog Piper from a parking lot. 

-wrote, produced and starred (unintentionally) a short film. ..along with went to Vegas to do a short.

2014,

You were a good year, a great year - a stupendous year! Thanks for holding it down. You will be missed but we have to keep pushing forward. We will build on top of what we started here and strive for better. 

Thanks for everything 2014.  

2015 - don't be a dick. 

-YourFriendMatt

Cough...

“What would you say that flap of skin is?”  The gray-haired doctor said to his assisting nurse staring at my naked body.  “Well, that’s definitely his testicles.” she replied pointing. “Very good, dear.” He smiled.

Today I went to the doctors for the first time in 7 years.

There was a period of my life when I didn’t have health insurance. And that period sucked. I gave up skateboarding, throwing myself into dangerous situations for the satisfaction of my friends laughter and I guess…grew up…at least a little bit. 

Going through my health benefits at work during this years open enrollment it dawned on me “I pay a lot for this shit! I am going to use it!” Not that I am complaining as I knock on wood typing this. It is a blessing I have not had to use any of it but what’s the harm in a little preventative care? Over the last few weeks I have been to the optometrist, general physician, chiropractor, dentist and dermatologist. 

Last week I thought it would be a good idea to head to the optometrist before heading to my physical. Seemed like a good idea and all the scheduling lined up. The only thing I had not factored was they were going to dilate my eyes and that last about 5 hours. For anyone who hasn’t had there eyes dilated or forgot what its like I will fill you in. They put some sort of chemical in your eyes, it may burn, it may not, and then like a snap of the fingers you can’t see clearly anymore. I wasn’t able to see the watch on my wrist…and I had ridden my bike. Luckily the doctor told me I still have 20/20 vision, unluckily I had to ride my bike…on Santa Monica Blvd…to my physical…half blind…good thing I have a helmet.

Arriving to what I believe to be my next doctors appointment I roam around the outside of a building complex trying to read the directory signs. I even asked Siri if she could read for me. She told me she could not very matter-of-factly. Bitch. I called the office and asked for directions and the receptionist seemed very confused with what I was asking. “Are you the tall skinny man standing out front of the office window with a bike helmet on?” She said as she could see me outside wondering around. She then told me to “Just walk in.”  I nodded my head sarcastically, walked into the glass door to the office before an elderly patient woman opened it for me. “Bless you.” She said taking pity on me as I took a seat in the sun-filled waiting room. 

“You’ll need to fill this out before we can see you.” said the receptionist handing me what I think was a clipboard and some sort of medical-legal papers. “Sure!” I said and continued to pick up the pen attached to the clipboard. I can only imagine the look on her face when I handed her the forms back with nothing but scribbles. I think I even tried to draw a pirate from memory on a signature line. 

A few moments later I hear “Mr. Bates? Please come on back.” I picked myself up and made my way to the back. Or at lease I’d hope so. “Okay Mr. Bates. Please remove your clothes and the doctor will be right in.” The careless assisting nurse said closing the door as I muttered “ALL my clothes?” She responded from the other side of the door with “ALL YOUR CLOTHES, BABY!” I can’t be sure but I feel like I heard a faint laugh dissipate down the hallway away from my room as she said it.

...Can people see my name body through this window?...

The doctor came in shortly after and we made small talk before he told me to stand up and cough…