Embassy row
the fumes they lay low
On lanes that are wide
where the limousines glide
On the wrought-iron gates
and the bone china plates
And don’t forget your manners
where the anthems play
Monday, December 30, 2002 It was brought to my attention that an acquaintance from my high school class was recently spotted on Elimidate. For those of you not familiar with Elimidate, it's the show where four people compete during a group date for the prize girl/guy. What a concept. Now let me first clarify what I mean by 'acquaintance'...I can't recall one conversation I had with him over the four years we attended high school together. Then again, I can't recall a lot of things from high school...like 'Math'. I guess I was just too busy with my numerous high school activities, like running third string track and misquoting Tool songs in the yearbook.
But anywho, this guy, let's call him 'Shereef'...because that is his name...was not particularly cool. On the high school scale of coolness, he was a "3"...he got beaten up, but with an explanation (blatant Simpsons plagerism). He's apparently a super-cool "12" now...women put micky's in his drink so they can have sex with him. Not only was he on the show, but he was the guy that the four women had to fight over! I mean goddam!
And so, this is just another item in my long lists of reasons why there is no God. The last item was when some assclown I knew from college got onto 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire', got the first question wrong, and then won a car and like 20 grand on the Rosie O'Donnell show because she felt bad for him. Lousy punk. But at least I have a website!! Sigh.
Saturday, December 28, 2002 This Christmas I had the good fortune of being introduced to what's sure to be a staple in my liquor cabinet (if I had a liquor cabinet), Harvey's Bristol Cream. Don't be fooled by the name, this drink is not a cream, but is rather a 'Sherry', which is in the Port family of wines. And like a Port, it's customarily served for dessert in a very small glass. But it's Christmas dammit! So my brother Patrick (psycho knife brother) and I decided to consume two bottles of this shit in VERY LARGE GLASSES before we even finished dinner. Luckily we had a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream (a legitimate cream beverage) just in case. Add a glass of wine and a piece of coconut cake, and now I was ready to go outside and play in the snow! Man, it seemed like a great idea at the time. Fast forward one hour, and I'm watching the South Park Christmas marathon while stretched out on my old bed at home...cold, wet, and ready to die. Never in my 26 years on this planet have I been hungover the very same night I was drinking. Either I'm getting old or God is punishing me for leaving Mass early the night before. That and the sodomy thing.
Monday, December 23, 2002 Things I learned from this weekend's Christmas party:
Don't serve beer in 8-ounce plastic christmas cups, or you will be mocked repeatedly as each new guest arrives.
Don't leave out pumpkin from Halloween, for it will most certainly be thrown somewhere.
Hitting your head against spiral staircase hurts like a bitch.
Don't leave out vintage Empire Strikes Back Burger King glasses, for they will be stolen/broken.
As fun as it sounds, taking a picture of my best friend's wife's boobs (fully clothed, of course) for the purposes of this site can be a rather disturbing process.
Old, crabby neighbors will clean up the mess we left on the sidewalk and leave it on our welcome mat as a warm gesture of love.
Otherwise, the party was quite successful. Keg was kicked, along with many bottles of hard liquor and wine, as well as a few cases of light beer....for the ladies. Nice job ladies. The aformentioned boob pic will be posted shortly.
Thursday, December 19, 2002 It's Christmas time...so for some reason I have this sudden urge to entertain...and to decorate...and to give.
Martha Stewart, you fabulous bitch, you read my mind! I'll throw a Christmas Party dammit! And it will be the greatest Christmas Party Jesus has ever seen!
So the party is on for Saturday. Like Martha recommended in her book, I've made sure to Clorox bleach all the urine stains and pubic hairs off the toilet. 'Big party foul', says Martha. We've got a keg of Sierra Nevada Pale Ales, for the sophisticated drinkers. I've also got 11 cans of Coors Light in the back of the fridge, for the ladies. The sex swing has been hung on the chimney with care. And I've set aside my favorite pair of tear-away pants...just in case. Thank God Frank is bringing his camera.
Tuesday, December 17, 2002 Well, the bad news is, I didn't get the job I interviewed for last week. The good news, on the other hand, is that I don't have to go to work! And what better way to celebrate my second full week of unemployment than with alcohol! My left coast friend Paul sent me this link, a list of signs to use at bars or perhaps parties, which will surely be very handy in the upcoming holiday weeks. Here's a few of particular note:
Let us drink off the same tab like brothers. Because I think I can drink more than you.
One on the cuff, old chum? Just one. Promise.
I’ve been waiting for a drink so long I’m growing a beard. I will use it to strangle the bartender.
If I do one more shot I will vomit. So make it a good one.
The USS Drunkard is sinking and I’m going down with the ship. Please don’t step on me.
Monday, December 16, 2002 Monday morning is my usual 'Spy on my readers' Day, where I check detailed online reports to see who is visiting my site. While writing down all of your email address's to sell to the highest bidder, I was surprised to see that a few people had been brought to the site from Google! My first thought was "This is the kind of spontaneous publicity I need! My name in print! That really makes me somebody! Things are gonna start happening now." But then I realized that all my thoughts are just quotes from The Jerk. Then it occurred to me that I can better use this search engine by adding more buzzwords to my site. So in that vein, I bring to you, my weekend:
It was Saturday morning, nine o'clock, and I just finished having anal sex with Britney Spears. And boy my ass was killing me. I was particularly happy about this turn of events because it would draw attention away from the threesome I had with the Olsen Twins last weekend. No more would I hear "Pedophile!" as I walked down the street. Or at least people would say it with more respect.
I got out of bed and turned my attention to the random letter I received the previous day. "Dear Matt", the letter began, "Porn, Gay, J. Lo, Kournikova, Hand Job, Doggy Style, David Hasselhoff." Weird huh? I could already tell this was gonna be a long weekend.
In an effort to shut my friend Bernard up, let's see some suggestions in the comments section for buzzwords to add to the site.
Friday, December 13, 2002 "You ever get to the point in life where you got to stop licking yourself up here, and start licking yourself down there?" - Triumph the Insult Comic Dog in 8 Nipples
(You're going to need to install the DivX codec if you don't already have it)
In response to the comments on my previous post, that was not the lamest thing I've ever said. In fact, I said lamer things that very night! Just before Mark Ibold showed up, some guy rudely cut in front of me in line and went straight into the bathroom. A couple of girls waiting in line for the women's bathroom noticed this, and one of the nice ladies said 'Hey, that guy just cut you'. In a momentary yet recurring lapse of grammar, I responded 'That's OK, I guess he had to go badder than I do'. Immediately realizing my blunder, I put my head down and said '...or, you know...worse'. Good thing I was drunk or I would have been really embarrassed!
I'll hopefully have some Malkmus pics from Saturday night up on the site later this afternoon, for those who are interested.
Monday, December 09, 2002 I saw Steven Malkmus this weekend at the Warsaw in Brooklyn, where I ran into none other than Mark Ibold, the bassist from Pavement. I was a bit drunk and leaning against the door to the men's bathroom, patiently waiting for my turn, when he got in line behind me. The conversation, without embellishment:
Mark: "Is this the line for the pisser?"
Me: "Ummm...I hope so."
Now at this point, I had the option of continuing the conversation by informing him of what a big fan I was, as well as asking about his current projects. But I had heard rumors that he is waiting tables now, so in order to avoid an uncomfortable moment, I decided to turn back to the bathroom door and continue waiting in silence.
In unrelated news, I've got a job interview lined up this week. Now before anyone gets excited, keep in mind that I will probably be up against many other candidates for this position, most of whom are better qualified and, more importantly, don't hate computers like I do. However, the possibility of getting a job so soon after getting laid off has prompted me to think of what to do with the paltry severance package that my former employers gave me. The decision is an easy one...I will cash my severance check, fly to Vegas and put it all on black (always bet on black). After losing it all, I will fly back home with a big goofy smile on my face. A man has got to have dreams.
Friday, December 06, 2002 The thrillhouse has been mentioned on the New Topography, one of my personal favorite weblogs. I'm not sure what she is trying to say about New Jersey with that comment, but I'm pretty sure she means 'New Jersey is filled with Fig Newton loving jerks'. Ouch. Now I'm hungry for a fig newton for some reason.
I would also like people to note that I am not the only person who posts to this site. Despite my gargantuan ego, I don't usually refer to myself in the third person...except for the occasional time in the shower or when I'm trying to confuse some old relative. Oh man, there's nothing funnier than pulling my Nana aside and telling her 'Matthew smells like fresh daisies'. And do I ever! But I digress. So please identify the 'poster' before leaving a comment, or I will have to murder somebody.
Monday, December 02, 2002 On this, my last day of employment, I had only two things on my mind...what to say and what to steal. After all, I have given three and a half grueling years to these ungrateful bastards, and I planned on going out in a blaze of fire, and I was gonna take something with me!
First, what to say? Initially, I had planned on unleashing a blitzkrieg of swear words, flailing my arms left and right in a marvelous display of passion! I'd alternate between my favorite 'Yo Mama' insults and a list of things I'd like to do to my boss's wife/daughter/house pet. After the multiple homicides, I would call it quits and exit gracefully. Instead, after the dust settled today, I think my actual words were something like 'No hard feelings'. Zing!
Next, what to steal? After the aformentioned wussying out, it would have to be something big...like a cubicle wall or one of those white boards with a matching set of dry erase markers. But I would have to carry whatever I stole on the path train, so I opted to look for something small instead. But you know what? Office supplies are pretty fucking useless when you have no job. And then I remembered...the free snack machine! So I stealthily mosied on over to the machine and noticed a freshly loaded row of Fig Newtons....jack pot! I noted the snack code, E4, and prepared to pack my laptop bag with about 15 of those badboys. But of course, as luck would have it, the first newton in the row was packed too tightly and apparently jammed the entire row. So it turned out that I got to unleash that blitzkrieg of swear words after all.
