This statement also applies to other, non-good things.
And every now and then, to really really dumb things with no purpose.
No, not bass players.
This blog, you turkeys.
Ta ta for now.
Forever!
Sunday, June 14, 2009
TTFN. Forever.
All good things must, one day, come to an end.
This statement also applies to other, non-good things.
And every now and then, to really really dumb things with no purpose.
No, not bass players.
This blog, you turkeys.
Ta ta for now.
Forever!
This statement also applies to other, non-good things.
And every now and then, to really really dumb things with no purpose.
No, not bass players.
This blog, you turkeys.
Ta ta for now.
Forever!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Gems and the Holograms
Let's be honest. My blog is ridiculous.
I realized this just a few minutes into the endeavor. But for some reason, I kept going. I offered up posts about night-owl neighbor girls with an itch for some late-night interaction, cabbage patch kids and their negative impact on children, morphing my face with Michael Jackson's, dreams about tornadoes and swirlies, devouring an entire gift box of cheese and meat, Boyz II Men, and Crocs, the worst invention of all time.
Then I gave up.
I found it much easier to see someone in Crocs on the street and then cringe and call it a day, than I did to see someone in Crocs and cringe and then go home and sit down and try to make it seem interesting to anyone other than myself.
Tonight I decided I'd sit down and give it another shot, though, as it's been almost two months since I logged in here.
Ten minutes in, I realize that I have nothing to share. So, I found myself searching for some inspirational music in my iTunes. Something that might trigger a worthwhile post.
In doing so, I came across a few gems. And by gems, I mean petrified pieces of poop that have gained value over time as a result of their poopiness. Like Pogs, Magic cards, zit stickers from the popular young girls' game "Girl Talk," and actual pieces of poop with valuable diamonds inside.
There's not too much to say about these gems, other than that they were squeezed out at a strange transitional time in my life. I had graduated college with an advertising degree, and yet, for some reason, I was living with my parents and sleeping in the same bed I used to pee in. Oh, and yes, the booger trail I had left on the wall next to said bed was still there, and it spelled out "salty nose treats" in braille. This post is all about forgotten gems, as it turns out.
Anyway, point is, I was living with my folks and bussing tables with no idea where I was headed in life. But I still had all these deep feelings and deep ideas and deep understandings of deep things that I had developed in college. But I had nowhere to put them.
Until I discovered a microphone from the late 80s in the basement, and the fact that a Dell desktop could actually be used for more than browsing the interweb (at 56k, mind you).
With the help of some illegally downloaded recording software and said 80s microphone, I decided to get creative in my gem-infested bedroom while mom taught clarinet lessons downstairs.
I'm going to share the results with all 3 of you who might still stumble upon this thing by mistake.
Why? Same reason I devoted an entire entry to meat logs. No reason whatsoever. And also because I find the results somewhat laughable and also delicious. Like meat logs and cheese.
Make fun of them. Make your own music videos to them. Make love to them. Make your own gem braille messages inspired by them. Whatever floats your boats, friends.
The following represent Matt years before a band was in the works. And years and years after it was acceptable to record songs on an 80s microphone. Boogers all 'round, y'all.
http://rapidshare.com/files/233121844/sappy_cover_1.m4a
http://rapidshare.com/files/233121845/sappy_original_1.m4a
http://rapidshare.com/files/233121846/sappy_cover_2.m4a
http://rapidshare.com/files/233121847/sappy_original_2.m4a
I realized this just a few minutes into the endeavor. But for some reason, I kept going. I offered up posts about night-owl neighbor girls with an itch for some late-night interaction, cabbage patch kids and their negative impact on children, morphing my face with Michael Jackson's, dreams about tornadoes and swirlies, devouring an entire gift box of cheese and meat, Boyz II Men, and Crocs, the worst invention of all time.
Then I gave up.
I found it much easier to see someone in Crocs on the street and then cringe and call it a day, than I did to see someone in Crocs and cringe and then go home and sit down and try to make it seem interesting to anyone other than myself.
Tonight I decided I'd sit down and give it another shot, though, as it's been almost two months since I logged in here.
Ten minutes in, I realize that I have nothing to share. So, I found myself searching for some inspirational music in my iTunes. Something that might trigger a worthwhile post.
In doing so, I came across a few gems. And by gems, I mean petrified pieces of poop that have gained value over time as a result of their poopiness. Like Pogs, Magic cards, zit stickers from the popular young girls' game "Girl Talk," and actual pieces of poop with valuable diamonds inside.
There's not too much to say about these gems, other than that they were squeezed out at a strange transitional time in my life. I had graduated college with an advertising degree, and yet, for some reason, I was living with my parents and sleeping in the same bed I used to pee in. Oh, and yes, the booger trail I had left on the wall next to said bed was still there, and it spelled out "salty nose treats" in braille. This post is all about forgotten gems, as it turns out.
Anyway, point is, I was living with my folks and bussing tables with no idea where I was headed in life. But I still had all these deep feelings and deep ideas and deep understandings of deep things that I had developed in college. But I had nowhere to put them.
Until I discovered a microphone from the late 80s in the basement, and the fact that a Dell desktop could actually be used for more than browsing the interweb (at 56k, mind you).
With the help of some illegally downloaded recording software and said 80s microphone, I decided to get creative in my gem-infested bedroom while mom taught clarinet lessons downstairs.
I'm going to share the results with all 3 of you who might still stumble upon this thing by mistake.
Why? Same reason I devoted an entire entry to meat logs. No reason whatsoever. And also because I find the results somewhat laughable and also delicious. Like meat logs and cheese.
Make fun of them. Make your own music videos to them. Make love to them. Make your own gem braille messages inspired by them. Whatever floats your boats, friends.
The following represent Matt years before a band was in the works. And years and years after it was acceptable to record songs on an 80s microphone. Boogers all 'round, y'all.
http://rapidshare.com/files/233121844/sappy_cover_1.m4a
http://rapidshare.com/files/233121845/sappy_original_1.m4a
http://rapidshare.com/files/233121846/sappy_cover_2.m4a
http://rapidshare.com/files/233121847/sappy_original_2.m4a
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Crag Repellent
No. Bad. Wrong.
Thanks for the flower.
Wait a second. That's not a flower. That's a hideous whirlwind of poisonwear.
Good luck trying to scale this insurmountable pile of pure evil.
Sorry I missed your party.
I was busy trying not to look like a giant ugly infant.
One less evil-doer.
And two that somehow survived.
Sorry if I offended any of you who enjoy looking like you dipped your feet into Barney's excrement.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
My first relevant post...
So maybe you don't care about Boyz II Men, Cabbage Patch Kids, or my encounters with drunken night-owl neighbor chicks.
In the tradition of posting things you don't care about, I invite you to come see my band at Subterranean on the 12th of March. We're playing with some great bands, including one of my all-time favorites, the Silent Years.
Hope to see you there.
And then, back here for my next useless post.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Boyz becoming Men. Men becoming Wolvz.
Roman numerically, Boyz II Men are worth re-listening II, if you haven't given them a chance in the last XIII years or so.
These multi-Grammy winners are the real deal. Particularly if you enjoy deep, pillow-talky apologies.
In the middle of every song.
But subwooferously bass-y vocal interludes aside, these guys were hard-working poets. They even re-recorded their songs in Spanish II out-do the then popular British-voice Madonna.
I think what really drew me II these guyz was their ability II target all of the issues that the average VIII-year-old boy was dealing with at the time. Songs about saying goodbye II yesterday and its challenges, eating all the Philly steaks you could eat, and strange moaning noises that I still don't understand II this day.
I think it's time IV a comeback. In the form of a collaboration.
Boyz II Men at Work
Buying bread from a man in Brussels.
He was VI foot IV and full of muscles.
I said, "Do you speak-a my language?"
He just smiled and gave me a vegemite sandwich.
And he said,
(spoken word interlude)
Baby...I'm sorry.
I never meant II hurt you.
Please come back home, girl.
All those times at night, when you just hurt me,
and just ran out with that other fella...
Baby, I knew about it. I just didn't care.
Just give me a bite of that vegemite sandwich,
and we'll call it even.
Just come back II me.
Yes, baby, my heart is lonely.
My heart hurts, baby. Yes, I feel pain, II.
Just let me try that vegemite sandwich, baby!
Just let me try that sandwich!
I come from a land down under,
Where beer does flow and men chunder.
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder?
You'd better run, you'd better take cover.
(spoken word interlude II)
Baby...I'm sorry.
I never meant II chunder up that vegemite sandwich.
I'm just not used II dark brown food pastes.
Yeast extract tickles my bowels, II, baby.
Please, give me another chance, girl.
Do you have some normal jelly or even just some peanut butter or something?
It's kind of weird that all you have is vegemite.
You were born in Berkley, Michigan. Not Brisbane.
Just feed me, girl. Any paste will do.
But if it's vegemite, sprinkle some bean-o inII that paste
before you spread it all over the the bread slices, darling.
Baby, I hate to chunder.
Especially in front of your mother.
These multi-Grammy winners are the real deal. Particularly if you enjoy deep, pillow-talky apologies.
In the middle of every song.
But subwooferously bass-y vocal interludes aside, these guys were hard-working poets. They even re-recorded their songs in Spanish II out-do the then popular British-voice Madonna.
I think what really drew me II these guyz was their ability II target all of the issues that the average VIII-year-old boy was dealing with at the time. Songs about saying goodbye II yesterday and its challenges, eating all the Philly steaks you could eat, and strange moaning noises that I still don't understand II this day.
I think it's time IV a comeback. In the form of a collaboration.
Boyz II Men at Work
Buying bread from a man in Brussels.
He was VI foot IV and full of muscles.
I said, "Do you speak-a my language?"
He just smiled and gave me a vegemite sandwich.
And he said,
(spoken word interlude)
Baby...I'm sorry.
I never meant II hurt you.
Please come back home, girl.
All those times at night, when you just hurt me,
and just ran out with that other fella...
Baby, I knew about it. I just didn't care.
Just give me a bite of that vegemite sandwich,
and we'll call it even.
Just come back II me.
Yes, baby, my heart is lonely.
My heart hurts, baby. Yes, I feel pain, II.
Just let me try that vegemite sandwich, baby!
Just let me try that sandwich!
I come from a land down under,
Where beer does flow and men chunder.
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder?
You'd better run, you'd better take cover.
(spoken word interlude II)
Baby...I'm sorry.
I never meant II chunder up that vegemite sandwich.
I'm just not used II dark brown food pastes.
Yeast extract tickles my bowels, II, baby.
Please, give me another chance, girl.
Do you have some normal jelly or even just some peanut butter or something?
It's kind of weird that all you have is vegemite.
You were born in Berkley, Michigan. Not Brisbane.
Just feed me, girl. Any paste will do.
But if it's vegemite, sprinkle some bean-o inII that paste
before you spread it all over the the bread slices, darling.
Baby, I hate to chunder.
Especially in front of your mother.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Goatellitonthemountain.
Dear (8) friends and an unknown number of anonymous lurkers (likely, 1),
I feel like I owe you more than the ridiculous and childish banter I dish out once in a blue moon. Or, sometimes, after 4 or 5 Blue Moons, depending on the night. Tonight, it's the sky-related blue moon. But come to think of it, "blue moon" refers to the second full moon that occurs in any calendar month. On average, there will be 41 months that have two full moons in every century. By that calculation, "once in a blue moon" means once every two-and-a-half years. So, I must actually be talking about the beer. I blame PJ Clarke's next to the theater where I saw MBV3D for this flub. That baked goat cheese made me thirsty for one. And that dry, parching orange slice made me thirsty for the second.
Anyway...the point is, you deserve more from me.
Which is why I offer you this photo from work earlier today. Only once in a blue moon will you see something like this. And this time, I mean the two-and-a-half years thing.
It's a photo of my mind being blown. Straight out of my nose. And for good reason.
Jim Breuer DOES look like a real goat boy! Oh my goodness! He really, truly, mind-blowingly does!
"Hey! Remember the eeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiighties?"
Taze me now.
I feel like I owe you more than the ridiculous and childish banter I dish out once in a blue moon. Or, sometimes, after 4 or 5 Blue Moons, depending on the night. Tonight, it's the sky-related blue moon. But come to think of it, "blue moon" refers to the second full moon that occurs in any calendar month. On average, there will be 41 months that have two full moons in every century. By that calculation, "once in a blue moon" means once every two-and-a-half years. So, I must actually be talking about the beer. I blame PJ Clarke's next to the theater where I saw MBV3D for this flub. That baked goat cheese made me thirsty for one. And that dry, parching orange slice made me thirsty for the second.
Anyway...the point is, you deserve more from me.
Which is why I offer you this photo from work earlier today. Only once in a blue moon will you see something like this. And this time, I mean the two-and-a-half years thing.
It's a photo of my mind being blown. Straight out of my nose. And for good reason.
Jim Breuer DOES look like a real goat boy! Oh my goodness! He really, truly, mind-blowingly does!
"Hey! Remember the eeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiighties?"
Taze me now.
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