Picnic...

"We need to do this more." - Us.

We live a mile from the Pacific Coast, and we find ourselves rarely taking advantage of it, especially during the winter months. Just like everyone else, we get wrapped in our lives and the stresses each day can bring. We talk about stress as if most of it is out of our control. I feel we get set on auto-pilot-mode, letting others dictate our decisions. The emotional toll that stress brings allows us to get lazy. It is easy to sit on the couch after a day at work to watch something mind-numbing, order some food from whatever food-delivery app has the best deal of the day, and pass out. Our laziness can be a vicious cycle.

I had a rare Saturday night off, and instead of going to a happy hour somewhere, getting tired, and crashing on the couch, Jamie and I decided to do a beach picnic. I raced home from work and kicked off my shoes - exchanging them for my flip flops - and we rolled down the hill to the beach in our comfortably converted VW Vanagon. There was almost no one on the beach, so we picked a spot to spread out and enjoyed the sunset. The summer breeze was coming in from the sea, and the sounds of the ocean crashing down on the sand played softly in the background as we dug into our dinner.

It is nice to put the phones down and have a conversation. I love technology as much as anyone; however, unplugging can help clear your head and get back to the scenery around us. Beauty is everywhere; you don't need a beach picnic to realize it - not to say that it doesn't help. There is always something beautiful around if we take a second to notice it. As the sun set and disappeared behind the Santa Monica mountains, I almost wanted to clap as if a band had just finished their encore.

We stayed on the beach for an extra few minutes to finish our drinks and snap a few photos; not a bad little Saturday night. We both committed to doing this more often. If I could, I would eat every meal on the beach. Take a second to see if you can find something worth pausing and admiring today.

It might just change your mood.

-YourFriendMatt

Grandmom...

"Why are you crying?" - Me.

Over the years we have put a lot of miles on our second-hand, black, '00 Eddie Bauer Edition, Ford Expedition. Grandmom, as we called her, has taken us across the country multiple times. She has gotten us up and down the mountains in Colorado and guided us through deserts in Nevada, Texas, and California. We have been through the Great Plains together. Grandmom has made it through more National Parks than I can remember, down alleyways she could barely fit through, been parallel parked in spaces that mathematically didn't make sense, all while hauling our small enclosed trailer. Grandmom has been packed with musical equipment, as well as accidentally passing through a close-set movie filming. Grandmom does what Grandmom wants. We were just there for the ride.

Since moving back to Santa Monica, the old girl has been sitting for over a year collecting parking tickets. It is unfair for us to keep her stationary. Grandmom is a road-dog. She needs to get back out there to explore. She needs to stretch her legs and adventure. She has done a lot for us, and now it is time to pass her on to the next adventurer who can get her back on the road. We will miss you old girl.

It was not an easy decision to put Grandmom up for sale. The mean streets of Santa Monica and the greed of the city have put us in the tough position of downsizing. Santa Monica and the greater LA area makes it impossible for anyone to park on any street, at any time. Grandmom was getting parking tickets weekly on our residential street. We were spending more on her just sitting there than we had in the past 5 years on repairs, gas, and traveling across the country.

We never thought we would get this upset over selling an inanimate object. I was actually quite happy to post her "for sale" ad on Craiglist. I was fueled by the hate of paying never-ending parking tickets, but once someone actually responded to make a cash offer, the sale of Grandmom became real. At first, I was glad to get rid of her, but when I cleaned her out for the last time coming across nicknacks that had been lodged under the seats from the different hotels we had stayed at, or various gas stations we filled up at, it hit me. This was the end of our time together. As we drove to drop her off to her next owner, I was fighting back the tears. An overwhelming wave of gratefulness and guilt washed over me. It didn't help that Jamie was sprawled across the foldable-bench-seating in the rear bawling, I mean really ugly crying. Full on moans and sadness poured out of her, she was inconsolable. And, so was I - on the inside.

Handing over her title and signing over our liability of Grandmom was tough. My ears were hot, and my throat had swollen shut. It took everything in me not to cry. I patted her on the hood on last time and quietly whispered my thank yous to her for all she had done for us. She had essentially protected my family like it was her own. She had made sure we always got to our destination safely. I am glad we spent the last few years together, and I hope I treated you as well as you treated us.

Take care of your new owners like you took care of us, and I look forward to seeing you soon in auto-heaven.

Thank you, Grandmom.

-YourFriendMatt

Grannie...

"I got a letter? Who the shit mails a letter anymore?" - Me.

I use to think my grandma hated me. Who knows, maybe she does. I am the son of the family's black sheep. It seemed like no matter what I did it was never good enough. There always seemed to be an issue or an off-centered comment in all of our interactions. It only seemed to get worse as time went on.

My grandma, my father's mother, was dealt a tough hand. She lived in an orphanage in Philadelphia, was eventually adopted and got married. That marriage ended in divorce, which was a way bigger deal then than it is now. This left her alone with too many children and a household to manage. I met my biological grandpa twice in my life, and I remember him being a dick anyway. So, reflecting on it now, I can see why she was miserable; or at least seemed to be. She did eventually re-marry to a wonderful man who I consider to be my real grandfather regardless if we are related by blood or not. RIP Marvin.

Throughout life, even if it was a birthday, graduation, or life event, it always seemed to be one step forward and two steps back with her. She would wish me a happy birthday and in the next breath tell me to go back to school and my car needed to be washed. All our conversations seem to hover at a 30,000-foot level. No matter what I could not seem to break through and connect with her. It did not help that later in life she did let me use her house to start a production company. We were essentially rent free, but there were a few rules. I could not party or drink there. What did I do? I partied and drank there. I was 23. What did I expect from myself? We did accomplish work, and grew our business, but that was a moot point. No matter how I tried to explain it to her, it was irrelevant. She found a beer bottle. I broke the rule. I was out. Business. Over.

A few years went by and I moved all over the country, took my career more seriously, and gained some more life experience. I reflected on my relationship with her. A few years back, I decided to start calling her more often - all my family actually - to make sure I was doing my best to remove any roadblocks that could prevent our relationship from growing. The first few calls were awkward - terrible in fact. She would wonder what I wanted, if I was asking for money, or if I needed her help with no return on investment. I ensured her all I wanted to do was talk and check in.

It took a while to regain trust and show her that I was no longer a 23-year-old moron. Our calls have gotten more pleasant, and this past week I received a handwritten letter from her. We have turned a new leaf! I could not believe it. I was in shock and excited. Getting something in the mail from Amazon is one thing, but getting a handwritten letter is something completely different. I set it aside and made time to read it without distraction. A personalized letter is special. She informed me about how she was doing, how her friends are and wished me and Jamie well.

I am writing her back now and using a typewriter to do it. I want her to have a personalized message from me. A text can be ignored, an email can be deleted, but a typed or handwritten document is personal. I am glad she and I are on better terms. It took a while, but we did it.

Love ya, grandma.

-YourFreindMatt

Pops...

Dad,

Thanks. I can not thank you enough for your constant support and for making me feel like I can accomplish anything. Thanks for allowing us always to play music as loud as we wanted. The continuous noise would have driven me insane, but you told us to keep playing. You have taught me that I should not take all things too seriously, to live in the moment. Thanks for providing the tools and knowledge that have allowed me to make things happen. Thanks for showing me that I needed to work hard for anything in life. This drive is something that has shaped who I am and has helped me get around the world. You are not perfect, but I know you always gave it your best shot, even when you had no idea what you were doing. Thanks for showing me compassion, peace, and love.

I love you, man.

-Matt

Thanks, Mom...

Mom,

Thanks for allowing me to be me, challenging me to do better, and holding me accountable when I was a complete idiot. I did not know it at the time, but you were doing your best to make sure I would grow up to be a good man. I thought you were being mean by making me do my homework immediately when I got home from school. I thought you were just a tyrant when you gave us a curfew. I thought it was ridiculous how we would have to finish a list of chores before we could do anything or go out with our friends, but now I appreciate it. 

I hope you have a relaxing and enjoyable Mother's Day. We wish we could be there to help you celebrate. We look forward to seeing you in a few weeks!

Love you and have a great day!

-Matt

Let's go to Disney...

"So, did you have a good birthday?." - Me.

Recently my future in-laws were in town. Jamie and I love having familiar faces in town and love it, even more, when we get to play "host" at Disneyland. We have been on-and-off pass holders at the happiest place on Earth for the last few years. Whenever our families come to stay with us, we put them through the gauntlet of ducking and diving through crowds to get to Space Mountain on time or get the best spot for whatever the seasonal parades are.

This time around we had the additional excitement of celebrating Jamie's mother's birthday as well. Obviously, we got her the ceremonial birthday button, surprise desserts with meals and birthday wishes from cast members throughout the park all day to help bring in her new year. Disney just knows how to help you celebrate. We spent the day hearing, "Happy Birthday, April" being shouted with excitement from every direction all day. This constant excitement powers a typical day and is exemplified when it's your birthday.

But, it is not only the atmosphere that helps make any moment, dare I say, magical, but it is also the people you choose to spend time with. I consider myself a fortunate man. I am continually surrounded by people that make me more intelligent, more positive and challenge me to be a better person. I have so many incredible people in my life and appreciate it every day. Life should be incredible; it's too short not to be. 

I made a very silly, and very amateur, project attached above - all shot and edited on my iPhone X while in the park. Technology is incredible. Check it out and critique! 

Nothing but the best to you and your family!

-YourFriendMatt

Hello, World!

29...

"Holy shit. It's my 29th birthday." - Me

When I was a kid, I thought my parents were old and wise beyond their years. By the time they were 29, I was 5 or 6. We live in different times now. I feel my generation is spending more time experiencing life and trying to plan a little more. We kind of have to…but that is a whole different conversation.

The last year of my 20's, and I am excited. I use to care about getting older. When I turned 23 or 24 I thought my life was over. I broke down in a diner 3 miles from my childhood home at 2am. I just stared at my Liberty Bell shaped waffle, “I am so old, what have I done with my life.” What the hell was I thinking? 

As I get older now I realize I don't feel any different. I mean, sometimes, I think 2007 was last year and I haven't felt older than 16 for as long as I can remember. I feel I am more mature now, well sometimes, dick and fart jokes will never go out of style. I feel I have learned lessons and know how valuable a dollar is now more than ever (thanks LA…you have taught me you can change anyone for anything at anytime.).

I woke up on my 29th birthday surrounded by loved ones 3,000 miles where we all met. It is a great feeling. Waking up in Anaheim...about to hit Disneyland...this is a great day.

-YourFriendMatt

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.

Office Hours...

"What in the world could you be doing in there for that long!" She said for the umpteenth time nearly kicking down the door. "I gotta pee so bad I'm going to explode!" I respond with a calm and simple "I do some of my best thinking in here.”

It has become my favorite room in the house. A spot where I can go to be alone with my thoughts. Enjoy a cup of coffee. Depending on the time of day I may even finish a beer. This is a place where I can skim through various social media outlets, catch up on my library book or even come up with the idea to write this very post -- I may have even written half of it while in here.

The bathroom is my office. And during Office Hours I get some of my best work done. Getting zen in the bathroom is a part of my routine and I look forward to it. Every morning I budget time before my hectic commute — a bike ride lining beach — to take care of business (if you know what I mean) but to also reply to emails, send birthday wishes, play Words with Friends against my uncles, pay bills wirelessly and plot my day.

Since we have opposite schedules my Office Hours usually are not an issue for us. Jamie doesn't have to get up for another hour after I have already left for work. On a rare weekend we are both off is usually when it creates a disturbance. Moving forward with our life together we will eventually have to have at least 2 offices. I do respect that she has to go in there, but I do give fair warning before I enter.  “You may not see me for a while.” I pause like a sergeant going into battle. I look up to the sky for dramatic effect as I secure my iPad under my arm. Sleep dust crusted in the corner of my eyes and my hair sticking up in every direction from my glorious slumber, “This one might be hell. Burritos last night. A black coffee and Raisen Bran. What was I thinking?" Pausing to bite my lower lip pretending I'm about to cry for more dramatic effect. "And I have to come up with a 80 point word against Uncle Phil. I love you. Wish me luck.” I kiss her head as she scoffs in disgust. “You are so gross.” Waving me off, “I love you too.” As the door closes and I am at peace.

List of (some) Accomplishments during Office Hours:

• YourFriendMatt.com was created here.
• Making countless and accurate grocery lists.
• Applying to college.
• Canceling cable.
• Viewing and Completing Season 3 of Breaking Bad.
• Paying bills, trading stocks and chats with my financial advisor.
• Planning birthdays and family functions.
• Nearly every call I have had with any customer service agent...ever. 
• Obligatory crossword puzzles.

Need I say more? Don't act like you aren't viewing this from a Facebook post on your toilet right now.

-YourFriendMatt

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 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

Magazines...

I am one of the luckiest dudes alive. I have the most loyal, loving, hardworking and best friends and family who would do anything for each other at the drop of a hat. Like Forrest said "I know that ain't something you can find just around the corner." My friend and musical brother Chris made this video for our upcoming show in Philadelphia for Xfinity and our fabulous friends at Radio 104.5. Such great footage that brings such great memories. I can not wait to fly back to all my family there and hug you all. Please enjoy and share with friends.

Dear Mom...

Dear Mom,

Thanks for always being there for me when I was acting like a dickhead (and still act like a dickhead, I'm still learning). I am the luckiest dude on the planet. Your guidance, no bullshit attitude, and love have molded me into the person I am today. Thanks for always driving us to shows which ultimately led to destroying every car you owned. Thanks for letting us use the basement (and essentially the entire house) as one big rehearsal and jam space for me and ALL my friends. Thanks for being a taxi service. Thanks for buying all those Capri Suns and fruit snacks (Ry and Chris are still sorry they ate all the ones from the 9/11 survival pack). Thanks for letting me host all those New Years Eve parties. Sorry about Ian pulling his pants down and running down the street screaming "Suck my ass!"...we still talk about that and Ry and Bj are still terrified of making you mad. Thanks for letting me play music as loud and as awful as I wanted. Thanks for  taking us to Blink 182 (Bj and I still talk about it to this day) at such an early age, buying me all those instruments, letting me dye my hair orange, blue and pink...and thanks for letting me wear those blue plaid pants in 7th grade. Remember taking grandma into Hot Topic? Thanks for surprising us with The Nightmare Before Christmas that one time I think in third grade. Pete and I were so excited and watched it an estimated billion times that weekend. Thanks for always doing anything you could to surprise us or make something special no matter what. Thanks for being organized and precise with everything we did. Thanks for always caring and pulling all the parents together when we decided we were going to go on our first tour. Just the other day Ry and I were talking about it. Thanks for letting me dress up as Dick Tracy, Bill Wilkins, and Batman when we went grocery shopping. All the birthdays, gifts, countless hours you spent on something I took for granted at the time mean so much to me now. Thank you.

I know a lot was put on your plate when we were young and I want you to know how much I appreciate and love you for being as strong as you are. Thanks for being both my mom and dad when I needed you to be. I know I can always turn to you with anything and you will be there for me. It's days like today I wish I wasn't 3,000 miles away and could give you a hug (I can't wait until you come out for a visit). 

I love you mom and I want you to relax and enjoy the day. Stop working so hard...maybe that's where I get it from...

Love you so much Mom!

-Matt