Nothing but net...

"There is no way he is going to make that full court shot." - Me.

Over the last year a couple of my friends and I committed to seeing each other more often. We all have varying work schedules that make it almost impossible to see each other, but we decided there would be no excuses. After playing the "what day works for you" game for a while we decided that Wednesdays would work for all of us. We have all played this game before. It's where a bunch of working adults stand around and look at their iPhone calendars and continue to ask each other questions like, "Does Tuesday at 4 pm work?" Then someone responses with, "Ah, no, I have a flute lesson" or "Gotta take my girlfriend to the dentist" or "Oh no dude, I can't" with no real reason given. We were committed to hanging out so we clear our schedules for Wednesday afternoons.

Organically we just started meeting up and playing basketball. I have no idea where this idea came from or why we consistently, without asking a question of why, just all knew to show up at Virginia Park in Santa Monica on Wednesday to shoot around. Most of the time we'd play horse. Every once in a while we'd attempt some one on one, or even a pickup game with whoever was there. We would talk about our weeks and upcoming plans. We'd talk shit about politics, business ventures, how our significant others think we act like teenage dorks; which in all fairness, we do. We could get together and talk about old pop-punk bands from the 2000's like it's nobody's business.

I'd like to point out that none of us have any athletic ability and looked like complete fools on the court, but we didn't care. We were out there to talk trash, catch up, and connect. Towards the end of these meet up's we decided to see who could take the most unique shot. While all the other community members were playing games of 21 or practicing their free throws, we were busy taking full court shots, screaming "KOBE!" regardless if it went in, which it never did. We are all from Philadelphia and what you see portrayed on It's Always Sunny, is not that far off from a real-world depiction of how people from that area are actually like. Interrupting another court full of players so we can do a trick bounce-shot off a trash can? Check.

Both of my friends recently got new jobs with incredible opportunities. The flip side is these new opportunities will take them away from a close proximity to Virginia Park and our basketball days have come to an end. I am super proud of these two from grinding it out and not giving up when their careers felt stagnant. Being miserable 40+ hours a week is no way to live your life, so I'm pumped we all get to do something we enjoy and get up excited about. If you have to work for someone, you better freaking like it.

I am bummed out that our collective may be on a hiatus, but I know that we will soon grace the court soon and maybe eventually someone will make that full court, bounce shot off the trash can, through the trees, off the park bench and get "nothing but net."

BoomShakaLaka!

-YourFriendMatt

Fitness Class...

"Be right back. I have to throw up." - Jamie.

It is the new year, and with that comes all the resolutions that we all make to ourselves. Jamie and I are working on getting ourselves back into the shapes we were when we first met. I join a rock climbing gym and she wanted to explore the possibilities of fitness classes. We are both extremely intimidated by fitness. We have no idea where to begin. She found a beginners class within walking distance of our place in Santa Monica and debated signing us up. After a few days of back and forth debate, she signed us up. 

We walked into our 10am class on a Saturday and the gym immediately fulfilled every stereotype I have about gyms, especially fitness classes. There was loud rock music from the 80's and 90's blasting, a sweet smell of over 30-year-old body odor, and a militaristic fitness coach barking orders with a European accent. "Oh yeah, great form, excellent form everyone, three more reps! Sweet it out, honey!" Vlad shouted to a class making their way through a circuit.

Jamie and I signed in, along with our other Groupon inspired fitness newbies, and our class went to orientation. We were instructed to keep a positive attitude, be early, and set measurable goals. Vlad and his assistant weighed us all in and took our measurements. There was only one scale and they asked each of us our ages and goals when we stepped up. I did not know there was going to be homework or that I would be sharing my personal information with complete strangers staring at me as I stood on a scale. Others in our class were mortified when they had to step up, state their age, and goals. I could care less. I found it funny. What made it even more entertaining was when they yelled your weight to another assistant who recorded all the information. "Yeah, this one is 38 and weight 226 pounds! We got a lot of work to do!" One assistant would yell to another. I am here to support my wife so I just made up some bullshit goal of building mass or having the worlds strongest neck muscles. They recorded my weight and then simply instructed, "You should go eat something." I am underweight for my height, bummer.

Once we were all done being humiliated in front of our new class, we got instruction on what this intro class would look like and hit it. We needed to be barefoot, bring a towel, and drink a ton of water. Since neither Jamie or I knew what towels to bring, we figured we would be safe and bring a few beach towels. Everyone else had small hand towels. Whatever. All joking aside, I was sore after. Jamie almost threw up, which is just the icing on the cake for newly inspired fitness seekers. Nothing motivates you more than almost throwing up in front of everyone in your new fitness class. We worked through some strategic and sexual stretches before and after the class that made this already awkward experience, even more awkward. "Make sure your pelvis is fully thrusted forward, good form Gina." Vlad called out. Evidently my pelvis thrust form was not as great, I'll work on it.


The class ended and we walked home and discussed the future of our fitness. Jamie will be back and appreciated me attempting it with her. I will stick to rock climbing, it is more my speed and there is way less pelvis thrusting.

-YourFriendMatt

Van Renovation: Chapter 1

"I mean, how hard could it be to rip a few van seats out?" - Me.

Right after we moved back to Santa Monica we knew we had to get our VW Vanagon back. We had one before the last time we lived here and missed the days of cruising in the van on the PCH, stopping to pull over if we found a cool beach area, and just hanging out in the van. We scoured Craiglist, local ad’s, and Facebook marketplace for a few weeks until we finally found one worth checking out. According to our mechanic, the engine seemed good, the body was in great shape, and besides a few minor upgrades, we found our van. Now, it is up to us to make it ours.

One of the first this we wanted to do is rip out the center, bench seats to create more space for activities. I will have more updates as the van renovation process goes, but here is a quick video of me, with no knowledge of how to do this, doing my best to remove the seats.

Enjoy and comment below! I'd love to hear from you!

-YourFriendMatt

Bachelor Party...

"Should we start a fight?" - My Dad.

It has been one week since my bachelor party. It is insane how fast time flies. I wait our entire lives for some moments, and in an instant, they are over. It has already been a week, and I wish I could go back to last weekend and relive the entire experience. Spending time with my family and friends is a luxury, and I often forget how special it can be.

We got off our red-eye flight from LAX to Philadelphia and immediately were reinvigorated. The sweet scent of the trash-filled air, the grit of the Philadelphia TSA, and the gray, overcast weather connected us right back to our roots; we are home. Someone pushed past us as we made our way through the terminal. They yelled something along the lines of, “Get the fuck out of my way, you pussies!” Philadelphia is a beautiful place.

A Wawa trip and a nap later and we were ready to get onto the festivities that were planned for us by friends and family. Every time Jamie and I head back to our home state of Pennsylvania; we immediately split up to see our different groups of friends and family. It is pretty incredible that I don’t see her until we meet back up at the airport days later at the end of the trip. We live together. I see here every day, but when we get back home to see our parents, we just wave goodbye and do our own thing.

I woke up from my nap on my mom’s couch and immediately had a beer. I am on vacation. It is my bachelor party weekend. I plan on being at least buzzed the entire time. Since I do not really drink anymore, I had to spend the week leading up to my bachelor party doing shots every night to rebuild my tolerance. I chatted with my mom for a while over a 10 am brew and decided to make my way over to my dad’s house. For those of you who have no idea who my father is, let me give you a quick rundown. He believes he is a 21-year-old and he also believes it is the year 1986. He usually is shirtless and wearing ripped jeans or something he found on the side of the road. He will drink you under the table and steal your woman. Motley Crue and Talking Heads are usually what is listening too. He loves to wander the neighborhood with his metal detector and can’t be caught without a beer in his had no matter what time it is. So, you can see why I would want to hang out with him immediately. 

We spent the afternoon looking through his raised vegetable garden, playing frisbee, and taking down two 6-packs. The level of relaxation that we achieved was nothing short of incredible. I put my phone down and forgot about it. When was the last time you did that? I was fully immersed in the relaxation aided by the help of cheap American, canned beers. 

I passed out for a long sleep sometime in the early night. We had to be up early for golf with the entire bachelor crew the next morning. Some of the bachelor party had never golfed a day in their lives. If you think my dad has golf, owns an acceptable pair of golf pants (or any pants for that matter), or knows the etiquette of golf, you’d be dead wrong. He showed up in his best-ripped jeans shorts and a case of Narragansett - safely stowed in a soft cooler of ice. We were ready to hit the links.

It is safe to say we finished all the beer and almost got in a fight on the 11th hole. By the time we reach the 11th, we were all a little drunk and taking our time aiming our shots. The foursome behind us yelled something along the lines of, “Hurry the fuck up, you drunk fucks!” None of us were having it. We were all in good moods and no one was going to stop us. All of us yelled back all the obscenities we could remember and were willing to start a fight in the middle of the course. I mean really, why would you start a fight with a group of drunk, blue collar, Philadelphia working men celebrating a bachelor party? “Fuck you, you mother fucking, fuck! I’ll shove this golf club down your throat if you say another god damn word! It’s my son’s bachelor party!” My father yelled. “Should we wait and beat the shit out of them? I got time.” My father asked all of us. I am not going to lie, there was a bit of a pause from all of us but we opted to keep the good vibes going and moved along, but not before we flipped them all of and threw shit at them for the remainder of the game. They never said another word and put up with our antics for the rest of the game.

Over the weekend, my family and friends all went golfing, drank, talked shit, and had a blast. All of my closest friends live across the country now. It was great to see those who had flown in to celebrate our upcoming wedding. For some of us, we hadn’t been home together in years, and we picked up right where we left off. These relationships are special. It is rare to find people that genuinely care about you and want to celebrate what you are doing. It is even harder to find someone who will care about you for decades to come. It is times like these where you learn who is in it for the long haul with you, and who was there for a few short bus stops.

-YourFriendMatt

Dr. Dolittle Part Three: We have cats...

"Come here you little shit!" - Jamie

It's starting to get weird. Over the last few weeks, animals have found their way to me for help. Recently I have helped a defenseless turtle trying to cross an interstate. I saved a grumpy little bird from being pulverized by a lawn-mowing maniac, and now we have a litter of kittens.

A few Saturday nights ago Jamie and I were unwinding over some hand-crafted cocktails with friends. The best parties happen in the kitchen, so we all gathered around our kitchen island in clear view of our glass front door. While one of our friends were telling us about their week at work, we noticed a white, fluffy face appearing from our front porch shadows and put it's paw on our front door as if to ask if it could come in and hang out. Jamie shrieked with excitement and completely stopped any and all conversation, bolting to the front door to become this kittens mother (and rub this fluff ball on her face).

The obviously terrified kitten ran from the front door into the shadows under our porch. From there on our night was consumed with finding and coddling this kitten (regardless if I wanted to or not). "Hold the flashlight better! I need to get this baby! Oh man, he's so cute! Come here you little shit!" or some string or order of these sentences were exclaimed over and over again until we finally got the damn thing. 

Be careful what you wish for. We now have a litter of kittens patrolling our backyard. What's even funnier is our dogs could give a shit. As long as those two bums are fed, they don't care who comes and goes. 

Does anyone want a cat?

-YourFriendMatt

The kitten whisperer...

I Got Stuck...Part Three...

“Excuse me, your dog is sleeping on my carry on bag.” She said with a smile on her face. We both turned to random, blonde, LA woman like the little girl from The Exorcist and she shut the hell up.

We had been in the airport for 11 hours. We had slept at LAX on a cold, marble floor. Our bodies hurt. Our eyes red and felt as if they were going to explode from exhaustion. Our hair was greasy and stuck up in every direction, we looked awful, disheveled and smelly. We had missed 3 flights in a row due to cancellations, and now being stuck in the airport was cutting into our vacation time. Not cool.

We had our dog, Piper, with us which added an additional layer of stress. It is one thing worrying about ourselves, but now Piper’s Benadryl was wearing off and she was running amuck. Piper is an 8 pound, brown and blonde haired, scrappy asshole of a dog. I love her. She gets into everything, likes to eat trash and make bed-nest out of whatever is around that you don’t want her making a bed-nest out of…such as other people carry on bags, jackets and neck pillows. She collects them, takes them under whatever piece of furniture she can find and makes a nest. In our current situation, she found a bench in our terminal and was happily making her bed. We didn’t care, we were too tired.

The next flight was boarding and we were waiting to see if we could make it on. Piper, who was now licking some little kids face and barking at things, had to be put back into her travel carry bag just in case we made it on the flight. This is always a scene because she fights like hell against Jamie and I as one of us holds open the bag and one tries to shove her in. “Oh, she’s fine, this is completely normal!” Jamie yells to disturbed onlookers over Piper’s screaming barks, and waves them off with a smile. “Going to Philadelphia? I like your shirt!” Jamie adds for good will.

“Okay, if only one of us gets on you go first and just take all this shit with you.”We discussed as I point to all our bags. “That way everything will just be in Philly when I get there and I will only have to worry about walking on a plane, you will have tons of help at the airport when you land.” Both of our families were anxiously waiting for us on the other side of the US in Philadelphia for our arrival. She would have plenty of help to carry all the bags and Piper. 

The plane boarded and was about to take off. We did not get on. This was the fourth flight in a row that we were not able to get on. The gate door to the plane was closing, solidify the defeating feeling in my gut that we were still stuck in LAX. Just as it was about to shut the gate agent busted through the door. “We have ONE SEAT AVAILABLE, which of you wants to go! Now!” We had our plan and I helped Jamie gather our things and got her on the plane. I watched it take off. Scared for her, but a little relieved that one of us was going home. Now it is time to get my ass on a plane.

The adventure in LAX continues…

-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! 

This one is on us...

Jamie and I were sitting at the bar enjoying our time off together when I heard "Hey, can I buy you a drink?" I turned to see a petite girl standing there. 

Another great night of playing music was in the books. We played the Santa Monica pier overlooking the beach, waves and Malibu. We had finished our set and were done loading out our gear. Everyone was heading their separate ways as the night winded down. I still had an open tab at the bar so Jamie and I decided to stay for a drink before we headed home. While we sat to watched the next band finishing our drinks a red-lipped, 20-something bar-girl approached us and asked to buy us drinks. "Hell yeah!" I said without skipping a beat. Jamie looked confused and the girl picked up on it. "I work for Bud Light and we are out sponsoring a new promotion. You guys look adorable so enjoy!" And she scampered away as fast as she had appeared. I, already perusing the beer list, found myself an IPA and Jamie shrugged and ordered a Bud Light. 

We finished the drinks and we were about to close out to head home. Bud Light girl reappeared again like a beer-fairy-god-mother. "One more on us for these two!" She said and handed us free coozies and blue, Bud Light sunglasses. "One thing though, can we get a picture of you two and possibly ask you a question?" She asked as I replied with, "If you're buying I'll tell you whatever you want!" Throwing on the sunglasses and striking a pose for their camera guy. As it turns out I guess they are running a promotion for summer bucket lists and wanted to know if there was anything crazy that we wanted to accomplish before the end of the summer. “Damn.” I replied “You going to be here for a while? I will need to think about this.” My mind exploding with options of insane things I could do with Bud Lights money funding it.

Buzzed Summer Bucket List Bar Brain Storming Session:

• Play drums with Motley Crue and then convince them to let me join the band.
• Skydive with Jay and Silent Bob.
• Fly Jamie and I’s family out for an all expense paid trip to Disneyland.
• Go to space.
• Lunch with Mel Brooks.
• Lunch with Dave Grohl
• Lunch with the cast of Can’t Hardly Wait.
• Lunch with Hall and Oates.
• Lunch with Christopher Lloyd and Michael J. Fox discussing their lives and then go play bass for Blink 182 at an arena…where they ultimately ask me to join the band.

My drunken brain went with the last option, as I thought this was the most feasible, as we ran to find the Bud Light girl. They did a video recording of my wish on some tablet and submitted it to their database. “Yes. Score. Totally having lunch with Dr. Emmett L. Brown.” I whispered and we staggered away feeling victorious.

Remember, if someone asks to pick up your bar tab, always let them.

I wonder if that tablet video is online somewhere?

-YourFriendMatt

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?

I Got Peed On...

“Oh, man. My bad. At least you know he is hydrated.” - Some Dad 

Returning from a lunch break, I hit the restroom to relieve myself before getting back to work. Standing at the urinal doing my business another group of individuals wander into the bathroom. A dad and I assumed his children from the sounds. Using proper guy-code-restroom-edicate I didn’t turn around to check it all out. You never turn around. Just keep your eyes on your business. My urinal was next to one of the stalls. As I was looking down, I saw little sneakers in my peripheral vision from the stall next to me. I assumed routine dad bathroom business as he needed to help his son. Except this time I didn't see a pair adult size sneakers slide into my peripheral. "No big deal." I thought. 

A second later, I thought I was bleeding. I felt a hot streak across ankle and foot. I looked down to make sure I was okay. At this point, I am still going. As Lloydd Christmas said "I can't stop once I've started. It stings!" After further inspection of my foot, it seems there was a clear liquid on it. And then another hot streak...and another. I guess this kid was just pretending he was a front yard sprinkler swaying and pissing wherever he wanted. I froze. I didn't know what to do. I have never been peed on before. I got out a subtle "Uh? Stop! Please. Don't pee on me!" trying to zip up, back up and see where the hell this kids dad was.

It turns out the dad was in the other stall, helping his other son and trusted his 2-year-old to aim on his own. He came out of the stall as I looked at him. Not knowing what else to do I pointed at my pee-covered foot. "Oh, man. You peed on yourself?" was the dad's first response. I thought to myself, "If I had peed on myself why the hell would I tell you?" This is a weird day. I told him it was not my pee and he responded with an inquisitive "You sure?" I just stared at him in disbelief trying to hold back my confusion and displeasure of having someone I don't knows pee on me, I pointed to the bathroom floor where it looked like someone spilled a glass of water. "Oh, man." He said...again. This guys temperate was that of a high 16-year-old drop out. "Well, at least you know he is hydrated!" And gave a little chuckle. 

He offered to clean my foot and this is when I chose to leave the bathroom. I don't know if I could have handled the weirdness of a kid I don't know peeing on me and a guy I don't know washing my foot in a public bathroom. Does this kind of stuff ever happened to you?

Moving forward I will probably just wait to use the handicap accessible stalls from now on.

-YourFriendMatt

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

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!

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.

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

Ol' Trusty...Part One...

"Dude, this could be her last ride. It's only right we take her." I said to Chris convincing him to take the dilapitated band van to our most recent show.

Throughout the years music has taken me across the nation and back. I consider these some of the most formative years of my life. When you are 1,400 miles from home, have no money, everything you own is broken or smelly you learn a thing or two. Since my friends and I started playing music we have destroyed every one of my mom's cars, most of my friend's parents cars, every one of our own cars, vans bought strictly for the band (old or new) and now we have a hand-me-down 2005 Ford FreeStar.

The band van is a beautiful thing. It's your safe house. Office. Board Room. Mobile home. Sales force..makeshift acoustic performance stage...salvation and worst nightmare. I've learned more about  auto repair on the side of the highway...at night...in a state I've never been too...with 18-wheelers whizzing by...underage...in the snow...than I ever will in a driveway. All in all seeing new things from a bench seat in a busted van was one of my favorite parts of the journey.

Up until this point of my life preforming has been something I have always done. I have had a chance to play with some great musicians in Los Angeles since my move but haven't hit a stage in a few months. When my old band got a call from the biggest rock radio stations in Philadelphia to preform live we all went for it. I landed in Philadelphia the day before the show and we ran through our normal setlist, caught up and went home to get a good night sleep.

We gathered on the day of the show at Chris' house to get a plan together. We needed to figure out how we were going to get our equipment to the show. Take separate cars? No, that is lame. Then it dawned on us (well at least me) that the old band van was still sitting out front.

Side-note: A quick back story on this van: It was Chris' families van for years. It has carted him and his siblings to countless karate and basketball tournaments. As the years progressed the air conditioning eventually gave up resulting in too many summer adventures with both sliding doors open...including a trip all the way to Outer Banks, NC from Swedesboro, NJ with the doors open. I know the van has been in at least one accident on the highway and after that they gave it to Chris...who never fixed the headlight. Why bother? Something is also wrong with the battery connection so we had to carry around a little wrench to undo the positive connection to the battery everywhere we went. We would show up to work, pop the hood and unhook the battery...besides all that...this van is a gem and we wouldn't have it any other way. One more thing, it looks like this on the inside...

"Dude! Let's take the van!" I screech cracking an ice cold Pabst. "I don't know man, I haven't started her in months." Chris says turning to me. "Dude, this could be her last ride. It's only right we take her. Who knows when we will do this again!" Sipping and spitting beer everywhere. Chris shrugs with a half-assed sigh and we make our way outside to check out the van.

She sits on the street waiting for us to come check her out. She hasn’t been moved in months and there is a layer of yellow and brown dust pollen covering her exterior. One of the tires is just about flat but we know we can make it to the gas station to fill it back up. As we peer in the back tinted windows we see our previous filth from the last ride…and its disgusting…just the way we like it. “Let’s pop the hood and connect the battery!” Chris yells getting more energized remembering all the good times we have had in this beauty.

There was a zap of blue electric that shocked us as we reattached the positive connection to the battery. “Yes!” We belted with a second wind of excitement. This was a good sign and we both knew it. Chris ripped open the driver side door ready with his keys and turned the ignition. She turned over with a sputter, pop - and finally roared like a dying old bird…our dying old bird. “Well boys I guess we know how we're are getting to the show! Let’s start packing!”

We packed, drank the last of our beers and decided it was time to head to Philadelphia. Half of our band had to drive separate due to obligations after the show and work the next morning. This was no big deal - Chris and I found it poetic. We had started a lot of bands together and worked on more music than either of us could remember. We had no idea when we would get the chance to drive to preform together again so it made sense to us that the rock gods aligned the stars this way. It was like we were 17 again.

To be continued...

YourFriendMatt

Accidents Happen...

 "FUCK! THAT'S A LOT OF BLOOD!" She yelled. 'Remains calm under pressure' is not something stated on her resume.

Jamie had just cooked us a delicious pasta dinner. She cooks and I clean. It's how it works for us. And I have no problem with it. I eat well. After we engorged ourselves with rigatoni it was time for me to get the dishes done. I went to put the spices Jamie used away in our pantry and as I opened the cabinet door another spice bottle fell out tumbling to the ground. Normal and no big deal. I shut the cabinet door of our pantry (or so I thought) bent over to get the bottle and as I came back up BAM! I clipped the corner of the cabinet door that was now open unbeknownst to me. I hit the door so hard it knocked me back spilling the spices I was holding all over the floor. I put my hand to my head instinctually rubbing my injury. When I took my had off my head it was covered in blood and I could feel the top of head getting warm. I have never seen anything like this before on my life but I cocked my head and blood started pouring out to the floor like someone had turned on a faucet.

"Jamie!" I cry. She was on the couch Pinterest-ing on her iPad. She looked up from the flower arrangements and recipes glowing on her screen and responded with a quick "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"  like I intentionally cut my head open to piss her off. "Oh, ya know, my normal 8:30 bleed-from-the-head routine, no big deal." I said sarcastically "Get me a towel!" I was now on one knee worried I would pass out from blood lose... if I was going to pass out I didn't want to fall that far. Head injuries are now joke. I can't believe how much blood flowed onto the floor. Jamie grabbed the roll of paper towels ripping a handful off and throwing them to me as fast as she could "OH MY GOD YOU ARE GOING TO DIE! SHOULD I CALL AN AMBULANCE! ARE YOU GOING TO DIE? THATS IT! I AM CALLING MY MOM!" She yelled so quickly it could be mistaken for one long incoherent run-on sentence. "Calm down. Relax." I ordered as I pulled the paper towel from my head "It's nothing, just a flesh wound..." I trailed off as more blood spilled on the floor and I reach for more paper towels.

Quick! Take my picture!

Jamie called her mom and I sat down on the floor. Not because I was light headed (pun intended) but because if anymore blood was going to spill on the floor I'd rather it was on linoleum. "MY MOM SAYS TO APPLY PRESSURE!" I heard from the other room. "What the hell did she think I was doing?" echoed in my head. At this point what else could I do? Yep, might as well grab a beer.

...HighLife or no life...

After a while the blood slowed to a stop and our night came to an end. Jamie and I agreed I should stay up a while just in case I had a concussion. I called my mother before bed for support and to fill her in on what was going on in my life. What better time than right now while my head is spewing blood? I woke up this morning feeling fine besides a minor headache.

Remember when all else fail...beer will solve everything.

Spring cleaning...

It only took 4 months but we finally threw our Christmas Tree out. I don't think it fits...where's that saw...

YourFriendMatt