This is overdue....sorry.

Jesus Christ, I had no idea that many people actually gave a whiff about my two scents. I cant believe how many people have responded to my first entry. I keep telling everyone im going to put up another post, but as most laundry days and pregnancy tests go, I put it off until it was too late. I just birthed a metaphorical smurf-blue baby hermaphrodite into my hamper as far as exciting things and neglecting my blog are concerned. However, my laziness got people telling me they want more, thus raising my awareness that people are reading this, which then promoted me wanting to make it better with pictures and video and skits ive been working out in my head. Good things are coming.

Cue recent current events you weren't there for:

I turn 25)

When your're younger, birthdays are awesome. They entail cake, presents, attention, and immortality for a day. You get all of the stuff you can't afford because you dont make any money and you arent spoiled enough to just get it bc you want it. Find something big, shiny and expensive you could never justify asking for, then ask for it. By college birthdays turn into a quest for alcohol poisoning and a heightened possibility of casual sex that is always ruined by sucessfulling achieving alcohol poisoning. You and your buddies drink a solid 6-7 days out of the week already, so naturally, everyone gets excited when they have reason to celebrate. Celebrating your birthday in college is like getting that flashy star in Mario cart. You get invincible and get away with murder, but its only for a limited time before youre back in the race, exposed to consequence. You can act/do/say anything you want and your friends have to apologize for you. Because, come on bro, its my birthday. YOU'RE going to tell ME I can't piss on the chef after I just puked on the Hibachi griddle at Hiro's Japanese Steakhouse? Piss off man!

But then you graduate college, your birthdays stay somewhat exciting, but there is a depressing undertone. Every birthday after 22 feels like you committed petty theft, but as the number increases, you feel less like you're getting away with it. I woke up last Wednesday the 24th and I wasn't excited. Who would be after just growing out of the MTV casting demographic? I am literally too old to be on MTV now. Im not saying I ever wanted to be on MADE: Jump-Rope Rap Champion edition or Sixteen and Pregnant, but you get what I'm saying. Thank god I live in LA where everyone pretty much dresses like aging past 24-25 doesnt exist. One day a dude my dads age rolled past me on a longboard going down the sidewalk. I dont live in a beach town where thats the norm, like the guy has never been away from the beach a day in his life. This was some old douche who still goes to Cancun for spring break. He was rocking an Ed Hardy shirt and ripped EH jeans and Chucks. I called my mom and told her i wanted to come home and "get away," for a few days. I digress.

Look the part)

The other night I went out with my emo roommates to go buy some clothes. When I dressed up for my birthday party I realized I had probably one (1) 'dress to impress' get-up thats neither impressive or all that dressy (I have a serious renob for Supra Skytops). So I need some more formal clothes (some nice pants, a vest perhaps, maybe a new blazer if im feeling saucy) and where do I immediately go? The Volcom store...where else? Thats where my mind went when I thought formal. For some reason they actually make suits that fit me perfectly. I can still feel like a bro and play adult at the same time. Money well wasted.

Fun fact: Just now (5:21 pm) I had to stand in front of a FedEx truck to stall the driver until someone met me with a package to deliver that had to make it out by tonight. Working adult life.

My birthday was the only remotely interesting thing that has happened thats not work related (in work related news I received my first Segment Producer credit, which I guess is industry code for "writer of dick and fart jokes semi hidden but not really, in the coverage for a music video show" on VH1) . I know what you are all wondering and the answer is yes, I DID turn down yet another free Vegas trip, bringing the grand total to 3 trips offered within the past month and a half. Ill get a tally page running soon.

This is taking too long, my childhood ADHD turned adult ADD is kicking in hard. The girl front is still bleak although there is some potential with one I met recently. Shes very pretty, really sarcastic, and much smarter than I am. Statistically speaking she's as good as mine. She doesn't seem remotely interested so again, statistically, I'm in.

In closing,

I can't eat jerky without just eating like a meal. I see some people take a good half hour or so to eat a bite at a time, like its chewing tobacco. Me? I just open a bag and eat it until its gone in about as long as it takes me to chew through a New York taxi drivers leather seat. New product: Jerky with gravy and rice. Call it "Beef Meal." The Japs will go nuts for it but they will ultimately rename it something like "Happy Place Cow Hungry Everybody Time" for domestic marketing purposes. Those creatures are as enchanted as they are comical.

Stay loose but not too loose, it could get messy

-Matt-

P.S- "Renob" is "Boner" backwards

Quickly...

Ive got a series of good ones coming, I keep barfing too much information into these things and the structure is all over the place. Im writing on the Douche-baggery of Los Angeles. The gems are coming soon, probably Monday night.

In the meantime: a quick story to set up a future post about Beverly Hills douche bags.

I was in a bar last night talking to a girl I was with. She was smoking a joint while we conversed. This dude walks past us as she exhales her smoke. It pretty much goes directly in the passing guys face by accident. The guy immediately turns around and spits in her face...or would have, had I not leaned in to hear what she was saying. The left side of my head took the brunt of the aforementioned loogey. The guy turns around and walks away as I wipe his spit from my face. I follow him and confront him. Of course he denies it. I call him a "pussy faggot" and slapped his drink out of his hand. A bouncer steps in after this guy's buddy signals for help. The spit-guy's response...he calls me a homophobe as the bouncer makes me walk away. I normally never get in fights because some guy steps on my shoe or accidentally spills my beer. It really doesn't piss me off at all. The guy spit on me by accident, but he thought a girl accidentally blowing smoke, weed smoke, the most delicious smell in the world, in his face was grounds to just spit in her face without thinking twice. Welcome to the Beverly Hills rich dick. He's out there, he's Persian and his Gucci loafers are as shiny as his eyebrows are thick. His great grandfather developed velcro and thus he feels the world is his oyster.

I could go on and on about the whole young money/trust fund crowd but it wouldnt be anything you wouldnt already expect. Imagine a bunch of young, effeminate dudes who drive nice cars and have all been to rehab by the age of 18. This skit highlights my point to a gilded T. I would go on and describe some of the lame shit ive seen these guys do but that video really nails what im going for. Enjoy.

More to come on Monday.

-Decks-

(say 'decks' out loud. It sounds like the guy from last night saying 'dicks.')

You already laid the tracks, now we just gotta baaack it up.

I figured I might as well jump on this whole blogging bandwagon, stay in touch with the ever evolving social mediums that dictate the rotation of the earth. I dont really have alot to say, but in the name of mindless entertainment, im going to say something for the sake of you being bored at your desk, or on your couch,,, and use as many commas as possible. This way, I can type and try to sound (read) as though im actually talking to you, the way people used to communicate when self confidence, modesty and personality still existed. Im going to really try and keep up with this because, Im finding, as with dreams and the rolling blackout that is my nightlife, my memories and escapades escape my memory faster than...(insert witty analogy here).

There really is no better way to toot (gay word) my own horn AND seem insightful. Im going to go ahead and give you a breakdown of my day, because, as twitter has demonstrated, people DO give a shit about the not so awesome things everyone else is doing.

Every Morning my alarm goes off at 10:02 and then 10:25. At 10:02 I turn on my tv and catch a solid 20 minutes of Anthony Bourdane's travel/booze/food/awesome show. I really like that guy, he's kind of a dick, kind of insightful, has a way with words that i envy, and he loves booze and good food as much as I do. The 10:25 alarm is most important because of a morning obligations I must fulfill that I cannot mention AND this is the time when I weigh the pros and cons of suicide. I always choose suicide and commit it the most painful way possible, by going to work. I have this crazy immortality that is identical to Bill Murry's immortality in groundhog day (fun fact: I once ended a relationship with a girl bc she had not seen that movie, or even heard of it). Anyways, after waking up tired and unfulfilled, as yet another dream about 2001 Britney Spears or the current Megan Fox is realized as just that, a dream, I hit the shower. My morning shower is one of my daily highlights primarily due to this really awesome window i have on my shower wall. Its pretty damn big and opens up to an awesome view of sunset blvd. When opened, it creates this really awesome contrast between the cool morning breeze and my hot shower water. I get 99% of my daily thinking done in this brilliant limbo. I also give anyone traveling north on Sweetzer av a great view of me naked flossing my teeth. However, this picture-esque ritual is often interrupted with moments of awkwardness that suck me out of my cool air hot water slam dance. For some reason, more times than not, tourists or mexicans (its always one or the other) find our street as the perfect place to make a U-turn. What they dont know is that after making their blind turn, our street is narrow and awkward, so turning around means pulling into our driveway and making a 3 point turn. My shower window overlooks my driveway and is directly over our front door. Im beyond visible. Thus, a great staring contest unfolds. I always try to maintain eye contact with them to make their innocent mistake as uncomfortable as possible. I used to close my window to shy away from the uncomfortable situation THEY put ME in, but I have begun to embrace it to teach them a lesson. I now leave my window open and stop whatever im doing in the shower and just stare at them. They see me before they even pull in the driveway so they are already flustered being semi lost and i top it off by being the hungover naked guy staring at them. Its great watching them scurry to switch from reverse to drive. This happens a good 20 times throughout the day, on Saturdays it spikes to 50. Dane Cook articulates my point flawlessly here. Following the most peaceful showering experience one could ask for (provided nobody turns around in my driveway that morning) the worst most frustrating traffic experience immediately follows.

I leave my house optimistic and ready for a new day of forgetting simple tasks and youtube, and stumble into the clusterfuck that is Beverly Hills traffic. Imagine 5000 old Jewish men and 5000 Ukrainian or Persian women in Lexuses, big body Mercedes and DB9 Aston Martins doing doughnuts in a rhinoplasty waiting room...on fire. People are switching lanes with no signals, paralell parking without warning, car doors opening from other parallel parked cars, horns, anger, narrow streets and chaos flying at you from all directions. Sprinkle a smart car or two in there for gayness and accuracy. The best part is you can see all of these idiot mistakes coming from a mile away. The dumb bitch on her cell phone looking in all directions except ahead of her cant wait to get on Rodeo to blow her latest husbands paycheck, natuarally she has better things to do than pay attention and not almost kill me. She's out there, always.

Provided I dont get killed, i then stumble into work around 11:10. Get coffee by 11:45. Flirt with the receptionist for a good 2 minutes, then go on about my day. I work as an assistant editor at No Good Television. My job is fucking awesome. We have an open bar that gets alot of use, hip hop blaring all day, the most relaxed dress code you could ever want (the only rule of dress is no "exposed man toes" for guys. Thats seriously it. ) dirty jokes and swearing at the top of your lungs are encouraged. We have an awesome building that used to be a bank, now turned booze friendly, fur covered walls, Xbox and arcade game work-zone. I dont care what you do, how much money you make, or who you are, my office is alot better and more awesome than yours. We even have a "white trash" refrigerator. It is slammed with every cheap beer and 40 imaginable. Its taller than me, and way cooler as well (punn intended). I get off of work anywhere between 8:30pm-2am. I try to find somewhere thats still open for dinner, go home, play the drums for 20 minutes, pop two melatonin then hit the hay. I used to go out and party as many nights of the week as possible, but it eventually took a back seat to sleeping once I started working 80 hour weeks including weekends. Oh well, cant win em all.

I wake up the next day and do it all over again. I wish there were more girls mixed into that whole equation, but contrary to popular belief, there really aren't. Im not dating anyone. I dont know if its a personality flaw or what, but whenever I am dating someone, girls always assume and articulate that they think im a huge player with a million girls in my back pocket. This is totally false, primarily because I have A) no time for a social life B) no real game or C) no penis. "C" being the primary reason. It fell off in a freak blender fight back in 76. Either way, they are wrong. Probably every girl Ive dated since college has voiced that feeling. I wish they were right.

Ok, im over typing this horse shit. If anyone is still reading by now, congrats, you just made it through that pointless pile of horse shit. Suscribe to this blog and we can make this a regular, one way thing. Ill ramble about nothing, and if youre that bored, you can take a look inside of my odd life. Ill try to post something new every few days. At least twice a week something really ridiculous happens that I wish I had written down and didnt. Consider this my journal.

Until next time

-Sarah-

Shit. I meant...

-Matt-