Piper the Pisser...

"Man, it's like she is doing this to mess with us." I say with a sigh of depression.

House training a dog is not an easy task. Jamie and I have recently adopted a dog named Piper. She is 9 months old, weighs 6 pounds and her previous owner through her out of a moving car which left her with a broken jaw that she will more than likely never be able to close. Relax, she can eat and drink, everyone calm down, that is usually the first question we get. She kind of uses her tongue to flick water and food pellets into her mouth leaving our kitchen floor a drool ridden, gooey danger zone. This only adds to her adorable-ness (think I just made that word up) needless to say we have done our fair share of coddling, hugging, and saying ridiculous things you would say to a baby in a high pitch voice. Piper is well taken care of. The cuteness is wearing off now though. 

Piper is alone longer during the day when Jamie and I are both at work and no accidents. None. Completely fine. For whatever reason she can't last the 7-8 hours we try and sleep. We walk here right before we go to bed, take away her water to try to get all the pee out of her so we can sleep. It's like fucking clock-work. Every morning there is bound to be a shot glass spill worth of Piper piss on the floor somewhere. Rub her nose in it? Check. Crate her? Check. Use stern voice? Check. And finally my fucking favorite...Puppy Pads? Check...and she laughs at them. These things are the biggest snake oil, joke-waste of money I have ever seen. I swear she pee's around them to mess with us. Perfectly around them.

When we first moved in at our Santa Monica abode we didn't think the concrete floors would be very homey or welcoming. Now they are a damn godsend. If we had carpets this place would smell absolutely awful. How? How is the damn world do you train a puppy? I did it once before with Scoob (my 17 year old dog living with my father in Pennsylvania). Why can't I get this dog trained?! Anyone? Bueller?

Growth...

I am told stepping out of you comfort zones is where opportunity is found. Leaving our families, friends and most importantly comfort behind almost 6 months ago (yes...half a year...eek!...where does time go?) I think I want to attest that opportunities are found out of your comfort zones. For better or worst you will grow as a person and find out things about yourself that you never knew were possible. Look at me...I guess I am a writer now? And people actually want me to contribute to their sites and even weirder than that...read what mine has to say. That's insanity. 

You will never know what is out there if you don't take a jump...and that is horrifying. Take baby steps and do something you wouldn't do today. Something small and scare yourself. It's not so bad, reflect on it and work on something bigger next time...but what the hell do I know.

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.

First World Problems...

 "Motherfucker." I said after calmly collecting myself from furiously punching, screaming at and shaking the steering wheel.

Since embarking on our adventure to California we have experienced nothing but car trouble. The SUV we drove from the chilly east coast died almost immediately upon arrival here in sunny California. She served her purpose, got us here safely and then gave up the ghost like a good soldier. It's all I asked of her. We lucked out when our friends Greg and Rick drove my other car out west from Philadelphia giving us another shot at LA traffic bliss...but now we have another problem (see picture above).

My 2004 Ford Focus, with all manual features standard, has been a godsend. She has taken me all over the east coast and now out west to tackle what this terrain has to offer. Sure her ignition sticks and you have to hit the steering column with a hammer every once in a while...sure the radio will just cut out for no reason sometimes ruining your chance at harmonizing the chorus of your favorite song...sure that passenger side mirror has never worked and makes merging a fun game of life or death...but overall...she's a gem. 

When I got the call from Jamie stating she couldn't get the key to turn I thought she was full of shit. We have been through this exact scenario a million times. The ignition just sticks and will get stuck now and then. Once you give the steering column a good love tap with a handy-dandy hammer it loosens up. "Jamie, my cousin who I never see is visiting and we are grabbing a drink. If I leave to travel across town to try and fix this it had better be officially stuck." Immoral words I wished I never used in retrospect. When I arrived at the scene like the knight in shining armor I think I am I arrogantly jumped into the driver's seat. Jamie was in the passenger and looked at me like I was the world's biggest dickhead. Which I am. "We'll be out of here in a minute and then we are heading back to catch my family for a drink." I state as I try to turn the key confidently. Stuck. A worried slightly embarrassed "Haha" Shot out of my mouth. "Uh, must give it a little more muscle." I try again as Jamie's eyebrows cock and a smirk creeped across her face. 

After about an hour of punching, hair pulling, screaming, yelling and explicitly expelling every curse I know (and some I made up) trying to turn the key with no success we decided to call roadside assistance. "Motherfucker." I say under my breath and let out a deep sigh. This thing was like the fucking Sword in the Stone, only the chosen one could get this thing to move. I have no idea how something like this happens. Imagine the key to your car ignition would not turn and get back to me. Don't take it for granted the next time you get in the car to zip off to the mall, corner store or...to grab drinks with your family...which at this point after trying to turn a key for two hours...were surely cancelled.

We called roadside assistance, found the closest Ford service station, found a ride home and were quoted 60 minutes for the tow truck to come get us...which gave us plenty of time to get the car to Ford to be fixed. When we realized we only had 10 minutes to get to the garage and we were still on the side of the road, long past our 60 minute rescue quote time, we got worried. I called the tow company, our insurance company and Ford. No one has ever heard of a "Matt" before. Fucking fantastic. Hearing "Who are you again?" is never a good response. Evidently the fax had never went through from our insurance company to the tow company to come get us. Make sense right? "What the fuck? Who uses a fax in the first place? What the fuck even is a fax?" Echoed in my head, that was currently on fire with fury, when they told me this. 

Jamie told me to calm down as I ferociously confiscated her phone and started dialing all parties numbers. I had our insurance company and tow company on 3 way on my phone and Ford on Jamie's "Mr. Bates we apologize for the inconvenience, Ford has a parking lot you can get the car towed to tonight after hours and they will look at the car first thing in the morning." Said the representative from our insurance company in a monotoned voice. "Uhhh, no we don't" responded the 20 year old valley girl receptionist from Ford. All parties were on speakerphone to hear each other. I stared at the phones, sat for a minute and responded quietly with "Guys. Do you see why I hate you all." Calmly like a serial killer and I paused "None of you have your shit together. Please communicate with each other before you present me a house of lies." My voice escalating. "Get me and my girlfriend off the goddamn side of the road immediately and somebody get my fucking car fixed" Now screaming every word. Another pause and a breath "Please." Trying to force my manners. I am not a total asshole but I think this specific scenario warrants a curse here or there. Jamie was mortified.

At the end of the day the car was finally towed...another hour later. Our tow truck operator Caesar didn't know who we were or where the car was going. We had to make another call to his boss to get it straightened out again...but he was at least a nice guy. I didn't give him shit and we laughed. It's not his fault his company is run by a bunch of motherfuckers. At this point I just gave up...signed the papers...and prayed I would see my car again someday.

YourFriendMatt

Oh Shit...literally...

We have all been here and it's one of my biggest pet peeves. I don't care if you're an over the top roll kind of person (as pictured) or under the roll kind of person...just make sure I have enough without trying to conserve the little you left for me. Don't act like you never tried to conserve the little amount of TP you have left and your finger rips through. At this point in my life you think I would have learned to check the roll before I sit down. Here's to yelling for help and praying someone is home to bring you a roll.

YourFriendMatt

Chocolate Covered Tampon...

 "Ew, what is that!" She yelled as I replied with "I don't know just pull it out!"

We don't know why but our dog loves to find anything in the trash with our scent on it...especially the most gross scents. Jamie and I had been out food shopping this past week leaving our dog, Piper, alone in the house. We try to put anything dangerous to her up high and throw away any trash in the proper receptacle...as anyone with common sense would. We even close the bathroom door when we leave so she can't get into the bin we have in there for all things gross. 

Arriving home after food shopping we opened the door to a grotesque scene looking like piper had killed a small bird on our rug. "What the hell happened in here? Did she catch a mouse?" I state as I go in for a closer look. Turns out I was wrong, as I tend to be. This small bird happened to be a heavy flow tampon Piper found...flowed on...with a trail of tissue and q-tips leading from the bathroom. Wonderful. "Welp." Shrugging "Looks like we forgot to close the bathroom door." turning to Jamie who is mortified. Rightfully so. I couldn't help but notice...not all of the tampon was there. "Hey? Did she eat most of that tampon?" In the most respectful and inquisitive voice I could muster.  She didn't know what to say and immediately ran to get paper towels to clean this mess up. Another afternoon here at Casa de Bates.

A day had past and we were worried if she did in fact eat the tampon some of it would hurt her or obstruct her intestines. I couldn't help but wonder "Isn't that it's job? To clog things up?" After another day had past and Piper was acting completely normal we thought we were in the clear. Nobody ever wants an expensive vet visit. We went to go see the sunset a few nights later and were greeted by our usual excited pup arriving home after. She jumped up and down on my leg and then went to greet Jamie. As Piper turned I noticed something unusual with her walk....and there was a white string hanging out of her. "Holy shit, Jamie please check out Piper's butt." Yes. It is what you think it is and thats the point of this whole thing. Jamie pulled a used tampon, let me rephrase that, her used tampon out of our dog. "Welp, Pipe. I guess were blood sisters now." She stated.

I love this woman.

YourFriendMatt

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

Moving Day...

Last week Ryan told me he was moving. "Totally awesome new place on the beach man! I am so pumped!" As a friend this is one if the last things you want to hear because an important question immediately follows up with that statement. The dreaded "Hey are you free this weekend?" Which translates to "Dude, please help me, I would do it for you...Come on! I'll buy you lunch! Just help me lift this fucking couch!" I let him plead his case, asked what actually has to be moved and where. Turns out we weren't going far, he didn't have that much, and beer was guaranteed. 

I arrived to his house on a hot, sunny Sunday afternoon. We were only moving him about a half a mile away. The biggest thing is his futon, no big deal. I figured he would have some sort of truck to get everything moved in one swoop. Wrong again, as I tend to be. My friend Ry drives a yellow Lotus convertible with trunk space the size of a shoe box. What the hell are we going to fit in that?

This is Ry...and the vehicle he thought would be good for moving...he is brilliant...at least he had beer...

Ry's car is so small that I, at 6' 2" stature, cannot fully fit into it and my legs do not fully stretch out in either of the seats. "How the hell are we supposed to move this crap when I can barely fit in this car." I ask. Ry is not the best critical thinker and he shrugged at this question. What else could we do?...We had a beer while we tried to figure this out. We knew we were going to have to get the futon moved and were stumped on how we were going to do it. Our friend Jeff stopped by while we were thinking of solutions for this problem. "Why don't you guys just water-taxi the futon over?" Jeff said. All of our eyes lit up. Ry lives on the Venice canals in LA and has 2 canoes... best idea ever right? We all ran to the canals to size up the canoes. A collective "This has to work" conversation broke out and we excitedly got on our way to execute our plans.

With a quick buzz and a new sense of accomplishment we decided we had to make one trip before our water adventure. The first trek we thought we would put as much in the trunk "space" as possible, sit me in the passenger seat, close the door and then pack more stuff on top of me through the roof. Sounds good right? Now that we were packed we set sail for a 2 minute drive around the corner to get his stuff moved to his new beach front house.

We both forgot it was St. Patricks Day weekend and it took us an hour to go less than 6 blocks...gotta love LA...all while it was 90 degrees out...with suitcases crushing me...and Rys gas light was on from the moment we left. To break down now would be poetic.

Finally arriving at Ry's new place we unpacked and I met Ry's roommate Scuba Steve. Turns out Steve is a photographer and when we told him about our plan to water-taxi a futon on 2 small canoes he wanted to document the whole thing.

Determination. stevenjayphoto.com...really rad stuff

We decided the car was now worthless and left it at Ry's new place. It only took us 6 minutes to walk back. "We should have just walked. " We both agreed. We quickly got the futon out back to the boats, tied it securely with guitar quarter inch cable (true band guys...it's all we had), and set sail to victory. 

"I can't believe how well this is working!" We kept yelling at each other paddling and taking chugs from our Pabst pounders we secured at the corner Asian market before our voyage. Everyone walking the canals clapped, cheered us on and Steve snapped photos. "It's to crowded to take the roads! We're taking to the sea!" Ry would yell to a passerby and slug his beer. "Yeah! It's moving day!" I would yell after him choking on a swig. At the end of our trek we still had to get the futon out of the canoes and carry it 2 more blocks...and we did so with passion and fury....mainly fueled by the beer.

stevenjayphoto.com

I still ill don't know where my shoes are but that is neither here nor there. Tales like this are what true friendship is all about. Ry is now happily moved in and loving his new location. We spent the rest of the night walking the beach, eating mexican food and drinking champagne. Not too bad. I think there is two morals to this story. First you can make any task, no matter how shitty it is...like helping your friend move, and make it an adventure. Secondly, when your friend asks him to help you move make sure he has beer.

YourFriendMatt

Piper...

"What the hell happened to her mouth?" was all I could say as I saw the four pound, squirrel-like, fur-ball sitting at my feet. Her tongue hanging out of her cocked head staring up at me...

Jamie and I had a rare lazy Sunday off together. Our weekly work schedules never match up so we wanted to make sure we got the most out of the day. Flea Market? Brunch? Beers? Early dinner in and an old movie? It was all on the agenda.

A cloudless sunny morning set the tone for our day and we wanted to make sure we got the most out of it. Luckily for me the local pet adoption was having an open house in a parking lot on Main Street that we had to check out...according to Jamie. Bastards. It's like they had it planned and knew we were coming. We ambled through the vacant lot of misfit animals and their misfit volunteers holding their leashes. I turned my back for a second to stare at a three legged-pit bull and Jamie was gone. I was hoping she was on the other side of the fence ready for brunch but I could not have been more wrong. I almost tripped over her. She was coiled into a ball on the oil stained parking lot asphalt clinging and cottling something furry.

"This ones got a real sad story. She needs a good home. She was thrown from a car when she was a puppy and someone found her on the side of the road. Her jaw was broken and may never close." Pausing for dramatic effect, tisking and shaking her head. She knew what she was doing. She was good. Damn it. "And needs a good home." Said the overweight college drop out peering over her black rimmed hipster glasses "But she is such a cutie!" Jamie looked up from the ground to her with an enthusiastic "Yes! She does need a good home!" She turned and stared at me as I tried talking down off the pet adoption ledge but I knew I was screwed. "IT'S SO FLUFFY I'M GONNA DIE!" was all I kept hearing muffled over kissing noises "Matt, we need her." And thats when I knew I was totally screwed. I manage to talk Jamie into leaving the parking lot...not after she gathered all the pamphlets and information she would need to surely adopt this animal...with or without discussing it with me.

A few days had gone by. We were back to our work week. No dog. "Yes!" having a conversation with myself walking from the driveway one night "Maybe she forgot about it." As I pushed the door open I couldn't have been more wrong...again. "Matt, don't be mad. She needed a good home..."

YourFriendMatt

The American Public...

“Mister! Help me!” exclaimed a short, slender, middle aged, crazy-eyed woman as she ran up to me.

I've had an extensive retail career. I could fill a book about the American Public but this one particular encounter will stick with me for a while. A few years back I was doing holiday help at a hip skate-life retailer. It was the holiday season, on a Saturday, so the store was buzzing with shoppers trying to complete their wish list and get the hell out of there as fast as they could. I took pride in my 8 hour shift of greeting people. Why not? If I am going to stand here for 8 hours and say "Hi." to people all day might as well make it fun. I was doing my greeter ninja work...because heaven forbid your micro-managing floor leads see you let someone in without saying "Hi" and letting them know about the "sale" going on...it was hectic to say the least as this woman came running in. Her hair was a blonde birds nest, her make up was smeared, wearing ripped faded jeans and a ratty, ripped 80's band t-shirt, toting ripped plastic grocery bags with her belongings in it, she smelled of bourbon and cigarette smoke. Screaming “Help!” I looked in her eyes and saw them glazed over rolling in the back of her head...I could tell this was going to be a great interaction...and I prayed she wouldn't swallow her tongue.

In a very upbeat and excited voice I say “What can I do for you today?” giving her my FULL and undivided attention. I needed to hear everything, I needed to know what was going to come out of her foam-at-the-corners mouth. “There’s something wrong with my smartphone!” she was yelling to a store full of holiday shoppers. “May I see it?” holding out my hand playing into her craziness. I examined the phone to find out that the battery wasn’t in it, it had a cracked screen and was emitting the faint smell of dog urine. During the examination of her phone she whispers to herself and then tells me she has been up for 3 days...and loves the band BuckCherry. Amazing. This couldn't be going any better. Playing into her insanity further I said “hmm, looks fine to me but if you don’t mind can you tell me what else is going wrong here?” as she responded with a snappy “Sure can!” Yes...I smiled with delight in knowing that I was about to share in the magical story of this phone and it’s owners journey...and how it ended up with me at the front of this store. 

“It’s my god-damn boyfriend!” she tells me as I nod with my hand on my chin and arm around my chest agreeing with her “He is accessing my smartphone from jail! (Of course her boyfriend is in jail is all I thought…why wouldn’t this woman have a boyfriend in jail?) He is hacking in and making me go to BOOBIE WEBSITES!” She YELLS in the front of the store as parents hide their children’s faces from her and I’s direction. Everyone in the store is slowly but surely starting to acknowledge this interaction (and I want to believe they are as excited as I am to see what’s going to happen). “Oh No…Oh Jeez…We can’t have that…” I say as she continues “Yeah! Damn right! He is making my phone go to RIDE-MY-DICK.com or something like that and I don’t want to go there!” Continuing to YELL as parents are starting to take their families from the store “I see, yeah that’s no good, we can’t have that…please...go on.” I say with assurance as she goes on  “I would never go to RIDE-MY-DICK.com!” She states with confidence as I reply with “Uh huh…continue…” “If anything I would go to EAT-MY-PUSSY.com! That’s the site I’d be on if I was searching for porn-o!” She YELLS some more and flails her arms around to help make her point…or lack there of. “Oh my my!” I say as seriously as I can muster without my cheeks turning red...or laughing uncontrollably. “Miss I am going to go talk to my manager (call the cops) and see if there is anything we can do for you, stay right here.” “That is no problems son. Let me tell you something else, don’t ever get messed up with anyone that loves cocaine.” (Where this was coming from…I have no idea…but I love it.)

I was about to leave this interaction but she sucked me right back in and my full and undivided attention was all on her…again. “Oh? Is that right?” I respond as she launches into another problem she has “Yeah you’re damn straight! I ain’t no coke addict but I have been known to do a “bump” every now and then…” (My mind is on fire, this is amazing, thank you crack woman…I never want this conversation to end) “…But these damn coke fiends…” she continues “…They just love it!” as she flails her arms some more like a prehistoric bird to make her point “I mean if I buy all the coke…shouldn’t I be able to at least BLOW A LINE?!” she flails and screams some more as I respond with “Makes sense to me…if you buy the candy bar…shouldn’t you be able to eat it?” I say definitively “My point exactly.” she agrees “I don’t want to hold you up…go see if you can do something about this phone” She dismisses me.

I thank her for her time and tell her I am going to see if there is anything I can do while rushing to the back of the store grabbing any co-worker I can. When I reach the back with some of my fellow employees I tell them the story and that this woman is still in the store. After a few minutes of rolling on the ground laughing they tell me I have to get her out before she causes anymore of a scene. I compose myself and head back to the front of the store.

“Ma’am” she turns to me and almost trips, lazily, over a parent with a stroller, “I checked with some of my co-workers and the only thing I can tell you to do is go to the police. They can file a report if you think your boyfriend is hacking into your phone.” She stares at the phone I am holding (I think…either that or her heart stopped for a minute from overdose). When she snaps back to reality from her drug daydream she blurts out “I already been to the cops! Wanna know what they said?!” “I would LOVE to hear what they had to say” I respond. “They told me to take a nap!” She then looked over her shoulder and said she had to go. Just as quickly as she came into my life she was gone. She ran out of the store and never looked back. I went back to work greeting people and prayed something else would spice up the day.

It’s the little things in life that make it worthwhile. I have no idea where she is today but I hope this woman is still out there making others as happy as she made me. She taught me something that day that I will never forget. If you buy the blow, you should be able to do a line or two.

YourFriendMatt