Birds of Prey...

"Oh, what's up with this falcon?" - Me.

I was out with friends at a sporting event, soccer, or football, whatever you call it, to be specific. I am not a huge sports guy, but I am always excited for people that are. Although I may have no idea what is going on, who scored, or what the rules of the game are, I am excited that it brings everyone around me such joy. Plus being in an arena, surrounded by passionate people, is hypnotizing. The second you step into this type of atmosphere you become apart of it. I have no idea how soccer is played, but I wanted whoever we were cheering for to win.

We found our seats and settled in before the match started. I found out it is called a match, not a game. I felt the energy pick up, and everyone started pointing. I began to look around to see what was going on, and before I knew it, a falcon was being released and flying throughout the stadium. "What the hell kind of sport is this?" I thought to myself. But, I was all in. Falcons are badass. Being from Philadelphia, I am cool with almost any bird of prey. Go birds! The game started and the place lit up. You couldn't help but get on your feet and cheer. Cheer for what? I have no idea, but I found myself just wanting to be a part of the action. Without knowing any of the rules of the match, I decided that going along with whatever cheer everyone else was doing would be the best course of action.

After a little bit, it was definitely time to grab a few beers. My friend told me that sometimes they have the falcon out and about to meet and greets during the game. That was all I needed to hear. I was already going to get up and go grab beers, but now I had the chance to meet a falcon. Done. I gave a quick thumbs up to my friend, and they knew I wasn't coming back until I found that falcon...and a beer.

I wondered around the area aimlessly for what felt like forever. I found a beer and drank it. Then I rounded another corner and nothing. Where could this damn thing be? I rounded one more corner and heard children in awe. I turned and looked to see it, there she was. Mission accomplished. I pushed the kids out of the way, met the animal handler and had my chance to hang out with this falcon. I came to watch the game, but left with so much more.

The photo above is proof that dreams come true.

-YourFriendMatt

Personal Photographer...

"You are really shitty at this." - Jamie.

I suck at taking great photos of my wife. The only reason I know this is because she has told me many times. She is fearless with her feedback and critiques. I need to work on lining things up the way she envisioned it, as well as my use of the rule of thirds. I also take forever to take a photo. We will have everything lined up, and I wait until I think I have found the perfect moment where she is smiling, or not, at the right time. I believe there is an art to the pause, but she seems to disagree. I honestly don't think I am that bad at it, but whenever I take a shot I think is tasteful, she reassures me I am awful at it, especially when it comes to taking great photos of her.

Recently we were out for a sunny Sunday lunch. We gassed up our old VW van, Big Red II, and took a drive south along the coast until we got hungry. Typically we like to stick to pub food and happy hours on our weekend days off together. Brews and pub food keeps the day easy. You know what you are getting. We get such little time together we like to keep it comfortable with a burger and fries. We found a brewery on the water. What else could you ask for? Craft brews and lunch overlooking the Pacific sounds incredible, so we grabbed a round of beers and found some seats on one of the brewery's outside patios. It's time to take in the sun.

After the alcohol hit the bloodstream, it was time to bust out the iPhones and start snapping photos. It's like clockwork. We suddenly find ourselves to be portrait photographers the instant we get a buzz. As if we were photographers all along, but were caged by our sober alternate personalities. "The sun is giving off some perfect lighting right now." Jamie said, "And don't take forever, just take the god damn picture." Classic me, always taking forever to take a photo. This is strike one. Jamie held up her beer and smiled. Like usual, I paused and then took the picture. Strike two. "Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you? You have to get better at this, I love you, but get your shit together." Jamie told me. I tried again and failed miserably, taking a blurry photo of the table as the phone fell out of my hand clanking down. Everyone looked over at us as Jamie turned to me and said, "You're a moron, you know that?" Strike three. I love my wife.

We continued about our day, got another round of beers, and forgot all about how I dropped her iPhone on the table causing a scene. We moved on, and I took another billion photos of her sitting in a chair holding her beer and grinning ear to ear while she moved her head around, tried different poses, and maneuvering facial features. My wife can be the shyest woman I know or the most photogenic person I have met. It all depends on the blood alcohol level, and at the perfect amount, she can strut a runway.

-YourFriendMatt

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

Eagle-ish...

“Dude, no fucking way.” - Me.

We just stood there. I couldn't believe it. I have been playing this game on and off for five years and have never come this close. Could I have done it? My first hole in one?

Moments earlier my friend, Ryan, and I had been lining up our shots on the 5th. It's a beautiful day out in Southern California, but when is it not? It's sunny, mid-70's, with a few white, billowing clouds spotting the blue mid-morning sky. A cool breeze washed across my face as I approached my attempt to par this hole. I have played this course before and for some reason the 5th always destroys me. I can never seem to line it up right. I took a deep breath and let it rip.

Ry was watching the ball as I slowly brought my head up. I had no idea where it went so I turned to him and asked, "Where did it go, dude?" I pivoted to look towards the green and saw the flag on the pin give a little shake as if something had struck it. I thought to myself there was no way I just nailed it. There wasn't a chance. I turned back to Ry, handed him my phone, and told him to head down in front of me, I didn't want to see it yet. He looked back with astonishing awe, "Dude, you did it." He ran towards the green and I just stood there, 100 yards away reflecting on the shot.

I had pared the last three holes and was proud of that, there was no way I could have just sunk this in one shot. It just doesn't make sense, I am not good at golf. But, maybe it's just my lucky day. I trekked down towards my shot and Ry was jumping up and down screaming, "Dude, you nailed it! It popped in and out, I know it!" My ball, from a shot taken 100 yards away, had been lying on the lip of the hole. I stiff breeze or tremor could have toppled it in. I couldn't believe it. I finally did it, the eagle quest was over. I couldn't, and still can't, believe it.

Ryan tried to convince me that it was a hole in one, but we all know it wasn't. At most, my ball might have popped in and out of the hole, potentially, for just a moment, it was a hole in one. I will take the eagle. We must have stayed there for ten minutes celebrating and holding up everyone behind us trying to tee off. I didn't care. We took photos, videos, and I am pretty sure I text everyone I have ever played golf with to show them this accomplishment.

The most humbling thing about this experience was the very next hole I sliced it back into the tree line. There we go, that's the game I am used to. Maybe it was a bit of luck from the golf gods to let me have a moment in the sun, but they promptly put me back in my place on the 6th.

Damn you, golf gods. Why must you play with my emotions like this?

-YourFriendMatt

Dude, where's your putter?

"Welp. Shit." - Me.

It was a perfect day off. I was going to meet two of my friends for golf, the weather is beautiful. Our dryer is still broken so the pressure to accomplish all the laundry that is piling up fell out of sight and out of mind. I mean, I can't finish the laundry if I can't dry it, right? The sun is out, the warm morning breeze of summer is blowing through Santa Monica and I had nothing to do but hit the links with the boys. What else could I ask for?

Well, they both canceled on me last minute. I was pissed. This was supposed to be a beautiful mid-week break from work to hang and have some guy time, but no, one of them had to get food poisoning and the other had to go to the doctors, my friends are so inconsiderate. How dare they not consult me before making other plans to tend to their health? I decided to go anyway and play solo, it'll still be a great time.

I pulled into the public golf course and got ready to go. The bag was loaded up, sunblock on, and had a few snacks and beverages. Time to play. I teed off and was feeling great about the start to my day, who needs those guys anyway. I pulled up to the green and went looking for my putter. "Oh, shit, I knew I forgot something" I rambled to myself. As it turns out I had recently used my putter for a thrilling game of indoor-putter-return in my living room a few nights before. My putter now rests in the corner of my kitchen, nowhere near the first hole of this game. Shit.

What am I to do? Go back and rent a putter? Hell no. I can't admit I am a moron. I am going to figure this out and play this round the way the powers that be wanted me to, without a putter. Maybe it was a sign I should work on my chipping technique. Either way, I am not turning back now.

It wasn't my worst round ever, but definitely, one that I won't forget. I used my driver, my 3 and my 9 all as putters for the day. Other folks on the course occasionally looked over at me like I was out of my mind. Plus, I even managed to feed a squirrel. All in all, incredible day on the course. Any day out playing golf beats even your best day at work.

My new friend - Rancho Park Golf Course -Los Angeles, CA

-YourFriendMatt

Less screen time...

“What the hell are you scrolling for?” - Us.

This year Jamie and I have committed to less screen time and more us time. This means putting down our phones, turning off the TV when we got get home, and enjoy each others presence for a while. 2018 was a busy year for us. We got married and planned our wedding in Philadelphia from Los Angeles; to say it was a hard task is an understatement. One of us was always on the phone, replying to an email, or just blatantly ignoring the other while mindlessly scrolling through memes on Insty for a bit of relief from all the decision-making we were doing. At the turn of the new year we decided that was enough, we set a goal to put down the tech and enjoy our time together.

We made a couple of easy changes that would give us some of our time back. We looked into an at-home food delivery service. I had no idea what to look for, and really don't know anyone who has used one before, but we figured we at least check it out. After some research we decided that Plated would fit our dietary needs. It seems they have more vegan and vegetarian options than their competitors. By switching to Plated we got back a ton of time we would have been spending in the grocery store or thinking up meals to cook throughout the week. We have all gotten stuck in the spaghetti and taco night weekly dinner loop. Our schedules, like I am sure many of yours, never line up. Between work, time with friends, fitness classes among other activities, it is incredible that we see each other at all.

We made another simple change and try to stick to it. We decided to keep the TV off until we spend at least an hour with each. This gives us time to vent, share funny happenings throughout our work day, and focus on what is important. We throw on some easy-listening and cook together. We even might eat that same meal at the table instead of in front of the TV, what a crazy idea. Leaving the TV off is tough because who doesn't want to watch two different documentaries about Fyre Festival to see if they are just a little different. Side-note: the Netflix one is better than the Hulu one. Between cook time together and no TV, we have gained hours of our lives back, which is what marriage is about right? Loving the person you are with and spending time with them?

I have been told that communication is the key to any relationship. I can tell you from first hand experience that spending a little more time together and putting down the tech for a bit has done us good. Even when there is a new Ted Bundy special, we are learning that it will be there after dinner and we can enjoy it together after we chat for a while. Sidenote: The Ted Bundy Tapes on Netflix is out of control, I highly recommend watching it with lights on in the afternoon.

-YourFriendMatt

Diamond in the rough...

“Holy shit. We are the only ones here. This is awesome!” - Me.

Nothing is worst that pushing yourself through a crowd to overpay for a cheap, watered-down drink at a bar filled with dickheads. First world problem I know, but living in a city with a population of over four million people it is bound to happen. Jamie and I rarely go out because it just isn’t worth it. Trying to find parking is a task all on its own and then paying surcharges for it adds salt to the wound. We needed a local place to go. A “Cheers” type place where you can go, actually relax, and everyone knows your name. So we went on the hunt for it.

Deep down in the trenches of Yelp we found a spot that looked like a mistake. There was barely any reviews, only a few dingy photos, but it was within walking distance so we decided we’d roll the dice. We walked in and it was everything you hope for in a dive. Old leather burgundy bar stools, pool tables that have seen a million 8-balls end games, dimly lit by faded Budweiser pool lights from the 70’s. Wood paneling on the walls and an even darker wooded bar that was lacquered to a fine shimmer. There was a jukebox playing oldies in the corner. The menu hadn’t been touched in decades. The carpet was stained from years of party fouls and puke; no one knows its original color. A true diamond in the rough.

We took our seats and ordered cheap bottled beers from the owner, who also happened to be the only employee. This was a blue-collar bar and we immediately felt a sense of belonging. We were the only ones there and we wouldn't have it any other way. Everyone else our age is out trying to find the next hip bar, over pay for their experience and put it on socials that they were there on opening weekend, but we are fine right here. We have music we love playing and each other. In a city packed to the gills with people, it is great to go out and actually relax from time to time. We danced the night away to Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn, Roger Miller, Dolly and more. No one came in the whole night, we just sat, enjoyed our conversation and company. It is nice getting out every once in a while.

If you need me in the foreseeable future, I’ll be at the dive.

-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

Trash Woman...

"Fuck you. You'll get over it." - Woman who threw trash out of her car window at me.

Imagine if you will a land in the future. The year is 2019 and although humankind still has it short comings, a huge population of the species strives to leave the world better than they found it. We have the ability to reduce and recycle, smart devices make life more efficient, and modern science continues to take us to further exploration of space unknown. We can do incredible things if we wanted to, and some of use are. Why would you not want to be apart of the solution and contribute to that? There are still some of us that are still lost.

Last night it was raining. My incredible wife, Jamie, was gracious enough to come get me from work because I normally ride my bike. It is dangerous to ride your bike in the rain in Southern California. Rain never happens here so people kind of lose their minds when it does. I work in a heavily trafficked area so I usually opt to meet her a few blocks away at the supermarket so its easier for us to meet up and load my bike in the van. When I got there a woman in a blue minivan was parked a few spots away from where I was meeting Jamie in the supermarket parking lot. As I loaded my bike I noticed the woman, without care, open her car door and throw a crumpled, greasy, brown bag of fast food trash on the ground like it was nothing. Take it to the trash or recycling bin 10 feet away? No, throwing your garbage around the parking lot seems appropriate. I was stunned.

She and I made quick eye contact and I pointed at the trash with a puzzled look on my face so I decided to mouth, "I think you dropped something." Boy, she didn't like that. She responded with an excited, "Fuck you, you hippie! They clean the parking lot nightly, you'll fucking get over it!" I was stunned. She actually believed that throwing trash on the ground was the right thing to do because someone would clean up her mess for her. Folks, there are people on Earth, in the United States, that think this is appropriate behavior. What have we become.

Before I could get another word out my beautiful, yet scrappy, wife lost her damn mind. She doesn't like when people talk to me that way. Jamie replied to the woman with, "Are you fucking kidding me, bitch! Fuck you! Fucking get out of here." The woman sped off. She didn't make it far to the next traffic light. It was actually kind of funny, she talked this big game and told us she was going to kick our asses, then sped off just to have to wait at the stop light. It was instant Karma, she just sat at the light embarrassed. Jamie yelled inside our van, "Wow, you got really far, bitch! Fuck you!" I kept my eyes on the woman, and she did the same, while I walked over, picked up her greasy bag of trash, and put it into the recycling. She flipped me off from the traffic light.

All joking and funny banter aside. We have to do better. We cannot continue to act this way. I don't know what the solve is, but we have to hold each other accountable to a high standard. I hope wherever the woman in the blue van is she is thinking about our interaction and potentially will think about her actions, but sadly, probably not. She will more than like continue to go to Jack in the Box, get something off the value menu, and throw her trash in the streets, which is just an awful way to go through life.

-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 Two: Bird man...

"I just saved your life. Why are you so grumpy." - Me.

I am starting to feel like Ace Ventura. I have been coming across animals that need my help (See Part One of this story). Most recently I was spending my Sunday gardening and playing with our dogs in the yard. We live next to an old church, and they have their lawn cut bi-weekly. Around 11 am or so before they get started with their service the lawn-keeper comes and makes sure the grass looks good for the parishioners. I was done gardening for the day, so I decided to head back in so Jamie and I could get our mimosa on.

I was on our porch and heard a faint "cheep" come from somewhere on the churches lawn. The roar of the riding lawn mower started somewhere in the distance, so I knew the lawn-keeper was on his way. I started looking around the yard stumbled upon a little grumpy bird sitting in the grass. I gave him my best "Hey, get the hell out of here; I don't want you to get run over by a lawnmower" juke attempt, but he called my bluff and continued to sit there. I stared at him for a while, and he stared right back. I blinked first; he was good.

I did a quick internet search of what to do with an injured bird. What I found was don't touch him, put him in a paper bag or shoe box and leave him alone after. Seems easy; I can do this. I went for the search of a paper bag as lawnmower man rounded the corner of the church and was making his way towards my helpless, grumpy friend. I jumped off the porch, paper bag in hand, and leaped in front of the lawn keeper waving my arms like a moron to prevent him from blending this grumpy little guy into a bird smoothie.

We got the bird into the paper bag and left him alone. The internet also told me to leave the bag open and check on him in an hour to see if it flew away. Which, an hour later, he flew away but not before pooping in the bag and on my porch. He was a little bastard. 

-YourFriendMatt

Three Decades...

I turned 30. 

30, from what I am told, is a huge milestone in life. I haven't felt any different. I haven’t felt older than 17 since, well, I was 17. I have always been one of the youngest in my friend circle, but now the youngest is 30. Which is crazy to think about, especially when I look through our group texts it only consists of dick and fart jokes. How could we all be 30? Or at least 30? Homeowners? Business owners? Contributing members to society when we all still dick around so much? Like, way too much, and always take the joke way to far.

By the time my parents were 30, I could speak to them in full sentences and was doing homework. I, on the other hand, have moved across the country twice, lived in 3 states, and still have no idea what I want to do when I grow up. And, I don't mind that. I like adventuring. I like who I am, what I get to do daily and where I am with life.

It feels good. I like being 30 so far. There has been a bit of an awakening. I feel motivated to make some changes. I don’t know what those changes are yet, but I have a feeling I will know soon. I feel even more open to new experiences and ideas. I have always had a sense of confidence that has helped me get where or what I wanted out of life. 30 is going to be pretty rad.

Here’s to you 30! And all the up, downs, and b-sides that lay ahead.

***Question - Is it lay ahead or lie ahead?***

-YourFriendMatt

Out of my element...

"Is that Raiden from Mortal Kombat spinning records?" - Me

I walked into the room and immediately felt like a dickhead. (Which honestly, is not that unusual). I was the only one not in Coachella garb or wearing Native America inspired face paint. There was a person (I assume) on the stage wearing something close to what I think a lightning god would wear if he was spinning records. The thing was, halfway through his set I guess the electricity went out for a second and everything skipped. I guess he needs to work on his spin skills (if that is even a thing). Needless to say I was the sore-thumb-basic-late-20's dude hanging by the bar...with a backpack on...in a club. I looked awesome.

Lightning god...

One of my best friends is a DJ and I am very proud of him for filling a room with people to hear his music...and doing it in LA. With a town full of entertainment choices, it is extremely hard to get your friends to leave the west side for a drink, let alone fill a venue full of people to listen to music they may or may not know. Congrats dude. Super proud of you.

Meanwhile, I was there to document and make sure to capture the moment for him. I am an open-minded fellow and was completely out of my element. I have no idea what kids are into now-a-days. There was people there selling crystals (not drugs but, multi-colored rock formations), people lying on the floor, two artists in front of the stage painting murals of god-like creatures, animal costumes and folks wearing ponchos/headband combos. I have no idea what was going on but everyone was super friendly and welcoming. Although the music some of the people were spinning sounded like a group of cyborgs driving a dump truck into a blender, it was a fantastic evening.

Thanks everyone for welcoming me into your world!

-YourFriendMatt

Which toothbrush is yours...

"Is yours the green one or the blue one?" I shrugged just using the green toothbrush.

Over the last 5 years Jamie and I have grown to love each other in ways I did not even know existed. We have seen each others flaws and worked through them together. We have worked on our communication and being transparent with each other, even if it is uncomfortable. This includes all the gross things you do in the bathroom when you think no one is watching, at what "level of dirty" you decide to do your laundry, shower schedules, borrowing the expensive razor (and leaving it in the shower 😡), when and where you clip your toe nails...and even mistakenly using their toothbrush. 

Since we decided to move in together, 3,000 miles from home, into a glorified studio apartment (garage guest house), we have no privacy. The bathroom is next 12 feet from the couch where we watch TV. The desk is next to the bed and the "dinning room table" is next to the door.  Shouting, "The mexican we had last night is coming back to haunt me! Turn the volume up, unless you want to hear the battle I am about to get into with last nights burritos!" is not out of the ordinary as one of us gets up from the couch to the bathroom. 

I figure, if we can get through this time, in these close quarters, we should be fine. 

Jamie - Yes, this morning I used your toothbrush, my bad, sorry! Love ya!

-YourFriendMatt

A Drive To Remember...

“Of course, I drive well, haven’t I driven you mad, already!”

While newly acquired marital bliss was offering us doses of magic and surprise, sharing every single thing was turning out to be a nightmare. Well, at least that is what my husband shall agree as giving me his beloved SUV for a drive was definitely nothing less than a big trouble. 

With little history of driving and absolutely no experience on a SUV, as I looked forward to this task, my husband was struck between beloved wife’s demands and beloved car’s care!

Yet, I am sure every married couple on this earth shall agree that my husband had no choice at all. As he agreed to be an instructor in my subsequent driving adventures, he must have hoped to buy unlimited stock of patience from anyone wanting to sell it.

After endless discussions and arguments about my driving skills, when I actually sat behind the wheel, I hoped for verbal help from him as it was easy to transfer the blame.

Asking him to stop his guidance as I knew my job and blaming him for not helping me out when I needed it along must have confused my poor husband every single time. Though I made endless efforts to stay calm, dragging him into trouble seemed to be embedded within my system, possibly as one of the many side-effects of marriage.

Though I always drove carefully, my husband was never able to appreciate my efforts. Labelling it as over-confidence, his determined stand to hunt for mistakes became one of his habits.

While I relax and enjoy when travelling on the passenger seat, my husband never gets the same kind of opportunity. With eyes glued on the road and mind occupied in mental driving, I am sure he finds my job as a driver more tiring than his own chance at it. 

As if all the drivers on the road conspire with my husband and form one single team, I always find it unbelievable when he picks my mistakes, defending every other driver around. While I am on the driver’s seat, they seem to communicate with my husband, sympathizing his bad luck.

A cocktail of funny, serious, happy, sad all my driving adventures so far have brought me closer to my husband’s endless patience. While as per wife’s code, it is impossible to appreciate him openly, I look forward to many more moments with his beloved SUV. Finally convinced of my skills, be it driving a car on the road or driving him mad at home, my husband has accepted few of the side orders of marital bliss.

“Hold on hubby, there are still many more to follow."

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.

Scoob Bates...

Scoob,

I love you.

Thanks for being one of my best friends on the planet. You were there for me with a playful wag when I was upset or stoked. You were there through adolescent heartbreak, teenage angst, through that divorce, when I got my first guitar, my first car, first drums, first concerts and my braces. You made it though operations in 2007 that cleared my bank account and kept you alive. You were there through car accidents and that short stint when I thought it was cool to dye my hair orange and blue. Remember my blue, plaid, punk-pants? You were a supporting role in all the home movies we made and listened to me when I tried to learn to sing and write my first songs.

You listened and never judged me through all the best and worst ideas I had. 

I could go on forever about all the good times we have had.

I am sorry if I ever yelled at you or was selfish. You taught me so much about caring for others and how to be a good friend. You touched so many people's lives and you were loved by everyone you ever met. I am sorry I left for the west coast. If I could have brought you I would have. This was one of the wildest decisions I have made in my life and I am still figuring life out. I know you were taken care of these last 2 years, but I can't tell you how much it breaks my heart I couldn't be there for you today. This letter, these words, will never do a justice for what we went through.

I know you were in a lot of pain and you are in a better place, but this still sucks. I will see you soon and I am so happy we got to spend nearly 20 years together.

You are one of my best friends. I love you.

-Matt

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 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