Monday, February 28, 2011


Dammit, meant to post this earlier.

My brother turns 27 today. He is also better than you.

Here he is probably not sober.

If you see him today, I expect you to make sure he sustains that trend.

Happy B-day bro.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

The Mustache

So I was looking at the picture of that dude at the top of my list post, and I noticed something. That's a hell of a mustache. Then I found myself thinking about mustaches for awhile.

Let's start with the spelling. I'm sure you've all seen it spelled moustache. But which is correct? Let's find out!

Yup. I actually did this.

Well, the only definition of it with this spelling, is the same word spelled differently. I guess this proves that while it's not technically incorrect to throw the 'o' in there, it's like spelling shop, "shoppe", which is to say, old fashioned. I don't know anyone that actually does this. Probably because I don't associate with no good letter wasters. Nope, not in this country.

Moving on, it seems there are three main categories of mustaches. The ironic stache, the the cop stache, and the genuine stache. It's also worth mentioning the phenomenon that doesn't quite deserve its own category: the pube stache. Haha! A red squiggly line. Google doesn't think pube is a word! Well it's time they faced the truth:

Eh..the window was still open.
Take that google. By the way, look at the pronunciation key. Pjub? What the fuck is a pjub? 

Back to mustaches. I'm going to give my thoughts on all three categories, even though I know virtually nothing about any of them and aside from this spectacular display of facial hair/shortsightedness:

I rarely dabble in the realm of mustachedom at all.

But what are blogs, if not people speaking at length on subjects they know nothing about?

The Ironic Stache
I get it. As far as facial hair goes, having only a mustache isn't exactly common, or a bold fashion statement. Some people like to sport one anyway, with the full knowledge that they are generally not considered suave. This is perhaps with the hope to project the idea that anything, even a mustache, can be worn with confidence. The ladies will see the mustache triumphantly affixed to one's face and think "there's a guy that rejects social norms, I want to have sex with him." While other dudes will think "I wish I was cool enough to get away with donning a mustache like that." And win win for the agent of mustache adornment! He becomes the envy of other dudes, and the object of infatuation for the ladies. Whether or not these objectives are actually realized is anyone's guess however. It's generally fairly thin, with the occasional flourish. 


Ok... this one's actually pretty awesome.
Draw your own conclusions.

The Cop Stache
To be a good cop, you need a certain amount of steadfastness. You can't constantly be bending the rules for people just because you feel sorry for them, I guess. If you're arresting someone and they detect a hint of compassion, they will exploit that weakness. Well apparently in the police academy, they teach you that your upper lip will betray your supposed iron constitution and you need to cover that shit up. I guess a mustache is slightly more intimidating than no mustache, unless you're one of those four folks above. It's typically a uniform thickness all the way across the upper lip.

You are
Haha, you had to know one of these guys was coming.
The Genuine Stache 
Occasionally similar in appearance to the ironic stache. One of the maine differences however is intention. Guys that wear the genuine stache may or may not be aware of its relevance in modern fashion, but don't give a shit. They sport the stache because they fucking like it, and fuck you if you don't. The other major difference between this and the ironic stache is length of application. One who grows the ironic stache will more often than not give up on it after a period of time. Growers of the genuine stache however, will don it proudly throughout the years.

And let's not forget:

The Pube Stache
It gets it name due its popularity among those in mid-puberty, and also because it looks like pubes on your face. The excitement of being able to grow any facial hair at all somehow outweighs the much more rational decision of waiting until it's at least a respectable amount. It's not usually a problem as it's mostly junior high kids that try it out, and they don't know anything, so they can be forgiven. However, among grown men, it becomes a more curious phenomenon. Also for some reason it seems to be a favorite among athletes.


I suppose this opens the door for a possible future post on beards. 

Probably won't do it though.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Why I Don't Watch The Jersey Shore

I bet you expected some elitist holier-than-thou spiel. Haha fuck you and your pre-conceptions right in the mouth.

No, I choose not to watch it because I'd probably like it.

TV producers are vile scum that know exactly what people want to watch and for this reason I hate them. My ideal life would be sipping various flavors of punch while meditating in peaceful solitude. I would reflect on life's greater questions and become more spiritually fulfilled with each passing day. But, I don't have time for that bullshit because too often I find myself wondering, "Hey what's on TV?" So you see, TV producers have stolen my life, in a manner of speaking. 

This could've been me.

But, in an effort to find some sort of middle ground, I have to choose which shows to watch, and which shows not to watch. I've basically whittled it down to sports, mythbusters, the office...uh, some other comedies, blah blah etc.. Basically I watch things that I don't get too attached to, lest I start sacrificing more important things to keep up. Trashy TV like the Jersey Shore is (probably?) entertaining, and that's precisely why I avoid it. I know if I watch just one episode, I'll probably get all wrapped up in it. 

It was this or a mummy.

Now since I've never actually seen it, I'm going to make some assumptions. If I'm wrong, there's no need to inform me. I don't care.

So, maybe the people on the show are dumb as bricks! Maybe that's why everyone loves them! They're like stupid dogs that shit all over the house, and you want so badly to hate them for doing it, but then they look up at you with an expression that clearly communicates "I haven't done anything wrong right? I like bananas!" or something, and then aw shucks, you can't stay mad. But why? Here's muh theory:

Everyone loves a little authenticity in the people they hang out with, artists they follow, music they listen to, and people they watch on TV. Some TV producer that knows this found a bunch of people that have been spoiled their whole lives, and have gained so little perspective, that minor insignificant problems somehow escalate into giant displays of emotion. It doesn't matter that these people have blown everything out of proportion. However misplaced, their feelings are real, and we love to watch. 


Now, some might put minor skirmishes into perspective and resolve to quickly get over their troubles, but you know what? They'd be boring as hell to watch. Nobody wants to watch someone sitting at home saying "My girlfriend's having a bad day. I think I'll stay out of her hair and read quietly." No, we want "BITCH WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?" and a fistfight. And once you start sharing these experiences with the people you're watching, you get attached. You connect with them. You pick sides. As much as I hate to say it, I know I would get emotionally invested in these people, so I choose not to watch. 

(Plus they all make more money than doctors, teachers, firefighters, scientists, police officers, soldiers, most artists, and most musicians all for getting drunk and getting into trouble, which is kind of annoying.) 

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Some Things I've Figured Out

Here's some obvious things I've figured out. Not necessarily recently, but important truths nonetheless. 


I Need Boring Things.
I'm kind of an adult now. And by adult I don't just mean "older" or "getting more ruggedly handsome with each passing day". Although those are both true of course, I've found adulthood has some other unexpected things that go along with it. Allow me to elaborate. Last Christmas my parents asked me what I wanted. For various reasons, I said 'nothing' because eh, what the hell do I really need? Well much later that day, I actually gave this question some thought. Then I was horrified, because I realized the answer was really boring things. For instance, a bathmat (which I still don't have, haha I'm gross) and other random shit, like I dunno...drapes. To get these scary thoughts out of my head, I quickly shifted mental gears and overcompensated by thinking about bicycles powered with dynamite, and hot dog laser cannons etc.

Christmas 2011

Fruits and Vegetables Make you Feel Better.
Obviously when you're younger, your body doesn't have years of neglect gumming up the works, and can use basically whatever shit you throw inside it. Ramen noodles for lunch every god damn day for a year? No problem! LET'S HIKE SOME MOUNTAINS AND SHIT. It doesn't matter! You only eat fruits and vegetables if you think they're tasty, or if you're really hungry. Then, you get older and become weighed down by things, like beer mostly, or having a giant dong. The point is, you are no longer a well oiled machine that can run on shitty garbage food. So then fruits and veggies slide back into the picture, somehow not offended that you've ignored them all these years. And guess what?! They help! Our bodies are built to use them efficiently, as if our ancestors evolved to get the most out of them, since at one point they were some of the only things available. WEIRD.

Unrelated Image.

Getting Enough Sleep is Fucking Great.
My days of staying up late as hell, and still getting up super early for class or work or what have you are far from over. However, recently I've started receiving the benefits of a full night's sleep. Sleep during high school? Fucking forget it. Summers? Staying out late, but working early. College? Not a chance. But now, it's gotten to the point where myself and people I know are in fewer numbers/too poor to be able to stay up/out late every night, so I'll occasionally find myself getting at least a full eight hours of sleep. Holy shit, it's amazing. I had no idea a world where evenings that weren't full of tired misery and headaches existed. 

I don't necessarily need a bed.

Best Friends Remain Best Friends even if you Aren't in Constant Contact.
After college, friends get separated. It sucks a whole lot, but it's a fact of life. When you're younger, you dread this inevitability because you're afraid that if you're not in close quarters with your friends, there's not going to be anything to keep the friendship going. Well for some people that's definitely true, but conveniently those same people end up being the ones that weren't all that important anyway. I've found that months and months can go by without seeing some of my closest friends, but that doesn't matter, because when I finally do, we fall right back into it. Talking to your best friends frequently is great, but even if you're not talking frequently, they're still your best friends. 

You Should Just Admit you Don't Know.
There's that strange thing we all do in conversation. Someone's chatting away, and they bring up a movie, a band, a concept, or something else you haven't heard of. They do it in a tone that suggests that it's common knowledge, and not wanting to feel like an idiot, you smile and nod, hoping that your unfamiliarity won't become obvious later. Sure, I'm guilty of it. But now, if I don't know what someone's talking about, I just shamelessly admit it, and more often than not, the person I'm talking to is more than happy to enlighten me! It gives them a chance to impart their knowledge, which everyone loves to do, and at the same time I learn something new, even if I end up forgetting it almost immediately. And if that someone does visibly judge me for being unfamiliar, then chances are they're a lousy bag of shit anyway.

So hopefully while reading through this you've though, "Well DUH Matt" at least once.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Football, and Beer.

FOOTBALL! I like it, generally. I'm going to talk about that, and you're gonna sit there, and like it.

If you understand this reference we're best friends now.

You may wonder, just how excited do I get about it? Well, somewhat. I mostly follow one team, apparently so I can be pissed when they probably don't make it to the superbowl every year. If they actually do make it and manage to win or something crazy like that, the fact remains that none of my friends are fans of the same team, so I've got nobody to celebrate with. With this in mind, I also choose to show some regional pride and follow the Patriots as well so I can relate to fellow New England football fans a little, which is pretty much the best part about being into sports in the first place. The second best part of course, is rubbing it in the face of fans of other teams when yours wins, even though neither of you did anything.

Yeah reward with no effort!

I also enjoy football for the skill involved, and for the tension that results from one play potentially changing the whole game. But this type of appreciation comes from years of familiarity. This isn't what gets anyone into the game in the first place. I think most of the excitement I get from it comes from the following thought process: "Whoa, I arbitrarily picked this team years ago, and now they might actually win the superbowl! That's so lucky for me to have picked them!

And after years of sticking with the team through horrible seasons, these giddy feelings of excitement intensify. See if you can follow the math here: If you wait twice as long for your team to win, when they finally do, you're about twice as excited.

My theorem has won several awards.

Now, some people don't get football. For a long time I was one of them. It all seemed like a big pointless circus that just made people mad for the most part. Well, over the years my views have evolved, so now I view sports as a big pointless circus that makes people mad for the most part, plus beer

This is especially true with regard to the superbowl. Not many people watch the superbowl because of interest in the teams involved. I sure fucking don't! I watch it because chances are I know several other people that are watching it, and at least one of those several people will help me get drunk. This sounds silly, and it is. Football is partially just an excuse to hang out and share excitement, resentment, and most of all beer. And during my drunkenness at this latest superbowl party, I realized something else in one of those brief moments of clarity.

The reason I started liking sports evolved out of faking it! I genuinely didn't understand the appeal in my younger years, and made the conscious choice to not give a shit. However, after realizing that a lot of the people I knew were pretty into it, I just said "ah hell with it" and jumped on the bus. For awhile I still didn't care, but if you watch enough sports with enough people that are enthusiastic, it will wear off on you. You just need to make the choice. I did!

Friday, February 4, 2011

Journey to England Part VII 1/2

(To all number purists: Sorry about the mixing of Roman numerals and Arabic numerals in the title.)

So there's a bit I accidentally left out of the last installment. Sorry, my memory failed me. 

I had previously mentioned our little road map, I think. If I didn't, let me bring you up to speed: We had a little road map. Ok. It helped immensely when figuring out the most sensible routes to not actually end up taking after the people that picked us up took us somewhere else entirely. Still however, knowing where we were in relation to service areas, and having an overall sense of distance was comforting. When getting stuck in the hitchhiking doldrums, we could always recheck our trusty little map and think "half an inch left isn't so bad!" 

So anyway here's the part I accidentally left out.

When we woke up in that field on our last day of hitching, it was gone. FUCK. We were practically in the middle of nowhere, heading someplace just north of nowhere, and now we didn't even have our map of nowhere.


We may as well have just been floating aimlessly through space like some sort of cosmic tumbleweed. But wait! We'd had it the day before, as we'd checked it just before giving up hitching for the day. It couldn't have gone far, it doesn't even have legs. 

I searched for "map with legs." Not exactly what I expected.

So we retraced our steps, and failing to find our map in various piles of dirt, concluded that we must've left it on a table inside the service station. 

In we went, perusing the area like a couple of people that aren't trying very hard to find something. Basically we checked the table we sat at and didn't see it. So we started asking around. "Did you see a road map booklet on any of these tables?" as if some teenager working there would say "Oh yes, I've got it right here random smelly stranger! Of course I would save such a specimen, despite similar maps being on sale in this very building!" and they'd hand it over, satisfied that they'd done a good deed. 

So nobody inside had it, but there was a janitor outside! He deals with trash more regularly! We asked him if he remembered throwing away a map. He couldn't quite remember. At least, that's all I could surmise from his dismissive grunts. Finally as a last ditch effort, which probably should've been my first ditch effort, I walked back inside to check the trash can nearest the table we sat at the night before. I pulled it out and started digging through it, hopefully with the confidence of some sort of undercover secret service agent looking for important clues, and definitely not some homeless person. 

And no way! THERE IT WAS! (Here's a 3rd way to emphasize text!)

It was absolutely soaked through with old coffee, as if a nearby cement truck had accidentally been filled with coffee instead of cement, and this trashcan was the closest receptacle they could use to dump their mistake. 

You know how old coffee smells like shit? Well being surrounded in other smelly garbage made it smell FUCKING GREAT!

So, it was both encouraging, as our persistence had paid off, and discouraging, as now we had to carry around a book with sticky shit-smelling pages for the foreseeable future. 

You're probably wondering why we didn't just buy a new map.