God is that you?

For the last few years I’ve found myself looking for answers, trying to fill what felt like a large hole in my soul. Tonight all the missing pieces came together for me, tonight we got to see the Doodle Bops.

We got to the fair grounds at 3:45 for the 4:00 show time. The line was extremely long and growing. We stepped into out place between sweaty, cigarette smoking, sleeveless t-shirt wearing, tattoo having guy and another sweaty, no cigarette, sleeveless t-shirt wearing, tattoo having guy. Just as we settled into out place an announcement came over the PA systems saying the start was going to be delayed until 5:00.

Questions started filling my head. Did the pink one get to drunk and they were waiting for her to sober up? Was the drummer laying backstage with vomit all over his orange wig because he just shot up a big spoonful? Or maybe the blue guy was taking his time snorting some coke and getting some groupies. I’ll never know the answers to these questions, but that just adds to the legend that is the Doodle Bops.

For the next hour my anticipation and excitement grew and finally it was time for the show. We took are seats between two more tattooed sleeveless men and looked out over a sea of what seemed like a million kids.

That’s when it happened; I heard the first few notes of “Queen for a Day” and immediately grabbed my lighter. I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. A few minutes later they ripped in to a vicious rendition of “Lets Get Loud”. It felt like someone grabbed me by the neck and punched me in the face. I didn’t know the lyric at first put picked them up quickly. Before long I had my horns high and found myself singing along in my best heavy metal growl.

The experience was draining. The emotions poured out of me from the begin of the show until fifteen minutes later when Lizzy got bored and we left to go see bunny (or hops as she calls them). As tired as I was I couldn’t help feeling complete again. I thought this blog was life changing…that was before I got to see the Doodle Bops.

a look inside

Good Evening Ladies and Gentleman,

Tonight Jen and I went to the Porter County Fair. There were a lot of high school kids walking around. In one particullar group, one of the guys was wearing a tee shirt that had this saying on it:

“Pain is temporary – Winning is forever”

Probably made up for whichever sports team he was on during the previous school year. The guy next to him was wearing a Guns and Roses shirt. For a second I thought, I wish I had a shirt that said:

“Pain is temporary – Axl Rose is forever”

That thought quickly passed as I realized nothing lasts forever, not even cold November rain.

And there’s your look inside

I like to ride my bicycle

I don’t own a bicycle, but the other day I found myself wanting to go for a ride. Luckily for me my friend Josh recently rode his mom's bike over to my house and left it in my garage. Just to give you an idea of what the bike looks like, it’s purple, it has a bell, and it’s about a foot to small for me.

Not worried about how I looked, I headed out to ride one of Valpo’s beautiful bike trails. After a few minutes I found myself behind an older lady on her bike.

This lady was a little larger and she was wearing a way to tight pair of shorts. I don’t think the pants were designed to be tight they were more of a victim of their circumstances. To make my view even better there was a little bit of coin slot showing between her shirt and her to tight shorts.

I’ve heard rappers refer to girls making their ass talk or clap, but her ass was making more of a chewing motion. The movement became hypnotic. My gaze locked in on her large bottom as it moved up and down.

Queen’s song “Bicycle” started running through my head. Then I started thinking about how cool it is that “Bicycle” actually referenced “Fat Bottom Girls”, another great Queen song.

Before the thought left my brain I felt my front tire catch the side of the bike path. I began to loose control, as I reached for a better grip on the handlebars I actually pushed on the bell and made it ring. So, as I’m loosing control and falling of my bike the bell is ringing a bringing more attention to me.

I’m not sure, but it felt like my balls hit the ground first because a wave of horrible pain shot through my body. Before, I knew it the bike seat on my tiny purple bike made the second piece of bread in my ball sandwich.

As I lay in the grass between Campbell and the bike path I watched the lady with the tight shorts and ass crack as she rode off into the distance. I lay there not able to talk or breathe. After a few seconds a Good Samaritan walked up and asked if I was okay. I said “yes” and continued to lay there in the sun until the pain in my stomach lessened to the point I was able to walk.

I walked the rest of the way home with my little purple bike and laid down as soon as I got there.

Grandpa Monkey Poop

My Grandfather was a funny guy; he used to tell us stories about when he was growing up in Pennsylvania. Here is one of my favorites.

He was in his early 20's and had just come back from a tour in WWII. His buddies and him decided to go out to a bar one afternoon and have some drinks. When they got to the bar there was a man out front with an orangutan. The man was offering people a chance to fight the animal for a couple of dollars. If they won they received some sort of cash prized.

I've never been to a fight were a man fights a monkey so I'm not sure how the winner is determined.

Anyway, the way my Grandpas told the story was the group he was with drank for a couple of hours and got nice and drunk. During that time, he tried to convince one of his friends that he had a strategy to beat any primate in a fight. He told the this poor guy that all he had to do was get in front of the monkey and punch it in the stomach as hard as he could. According to my grandpa this would stun the monkey and then the person fighting could put it some kind of wrestling hold to subdue it.

According to my grandpa, they finished drinking and his friend decided he would fight the monkey if my grandpa paid. Here's were it gets good. My grandpa's friend paid to take his turn with the monkey at the same time my grandpa continued to go over the game plan with him. The guy steps up to the monkey, with my grandpa cheering him on from the side, he cocks back and punches the monkey in the gut as hard as he can.

The monkey wasn't so much dazed as he was confused. With a puzzled look on its face he looks at my grandpa's friend and takes a huge shit. As soon as he's done he picks it up and throws it on the guy. Now the guy is confused and the monkey grabs him and starts rubbing him in what's left of the pile of poop.

After throwing the man around for a few minutes the monkey trainer stops the fight. The man walks a way covered in monkey crap with no prize.

I always believed this story because my grandfather was a salesman and could convince people to do anything. A couple years after my grandfather died I was talking to my Uncle Art and asked him if he was there when the guy got beat up by the monkey... His response was, "yeah, that monkey really beat the shit out of your Grandfather"

My grandfather also told me that if anyone ever broke into my house I should always grab two knives. This way if i stab at the robber and he is able to grab one of my hands with a knife in it, I could still stick the other knife in the robbers neck to kill him. He told me this when I was five.

I hate boss

I started a new job last December moving from a very large and streamlined firm to a smaller not so streamlined firm. Over time I'd become disappointed and frustrated with the projects I have been working on. The lack of communication and organization throughout the office made me feel like the work I was producing wasn't the best it could be.

Trying to be proactive, I set up a meeting with one of my bosses. In my mind I thought I would meet with him, explain my situation, tell him how he could improve communication in the office, and organize his projects better. After showing him how to better run his business he was surely going to promote me and give me a huge raise.

The day finally came and I was ready to meet with him. I downed two of my cube-mate's Red Bulls in an atempt to get fired up for my shinning moment of glory.

Here's what transpired:

Boss: "Come on in"
Me: "Okay"

…sitting down in one of his big comfy office chairs I was ready to break in to my career changing office improving monologue…

Me: "I feel li…"
Boss: "I have about 5 Minutes before I have to leave"
Me : "Oka.."
Boss: "I don't think you've been living up to our expectations."

…I start to sweat..

Me: "Well I .."
Boss: "Maybe it's because of all the time you spent in the hospital, any way you
don't have to worry about being fired yet."
Me: "Fired?"
Boss: "Everyone has received a bonus this year except you"
Me: "Bonus?"
Boss: "You should try harder"
Me: "okay" ( now slouching in my chair trying to disappear)
Boss: "I can relate to you because I have a son with special needs"
Me: "really?"
Boss: "Good talk, I have to get going, any questions?"
Me: "yes…"
Boss: "No? Good. Here's a book about being a better worker, why don't you read
it. let me know when you want to talk again."

FIN……………

Wow, what an insperation, I can't wait to "try harder". Being compared to someone with special needs filled me with a confidence that I've never had before.

Dancetastic

The other day I was watching TV when a commercial for Jell-O pudding came on. When the woman on TV tasted the pudding she smiled like it was the best thing that ever happened to her and then she started to dance. As she danced on my television set her pudding-eating friends started to dance with her. They all seemed to have a moment were they thought “holy shit this pudding is so delicious that I need to dance.” It looked like a lot of fun.

Anyway, I went to my fridge and found a chocolate pudding cup and couldn’t wait to eat it. I took a big spoonful and put it in my mouth. It didn't make me want to dance.

I don’t really like pudding so I threw the rest away and went back to my seat.

dirty turtles

Hello boys and girls, I hope you are all having great days.

Recently I've realized how much I like it when people qualify something stupid that they are about to by beginning the statement with "I'm not ______, but".

For example I recently found myself listening to a conversation that two acquaintances were having. The reason I was being nosey? The conversation started like this:

(key words have been changed in an attempt not to offend any specific race, ethnicity, gender, or culture)

Acquaintance #1: "I'm not racist, but I've noticed there are a lot more dirty Turtles in this area. In hometown, we had a lot of Turtles, but not as many dirty Turtles."

Acquaintance #2: "I'm not racist either, but you're right. The other day at the mall 3 dirty Turtles made me very uncomfortable. I was walking to a store and they didn't move out of my way. I wasn't sure what to do."

Acquaintance #1: "Yeah, dirty Turtles make me uncomfortable to. You can always tell dirty turtles from clean turtles.

Me: "You two know that my wife is half Turtle, right? Her dad's side of the family is from Turtleville."

Acquaintance #1: "I'm sure there clean Turtles right? So that's okay."

Acquaintance #2: "Yeah, clean Turtles are okay."

Me: "Um, I don't know how to respond to that."

They then began talking about politics so I had to leave.

Dan

Jen and I went to a wedding over the weekend. When we got to our table I was excited to see that we were sitting with people I'd never met before. One of the people that I did know told me that the person sitting by me was also an accountant. As I anticipated his arrival, my excitement grew. I couldn't wait to talk to him about spreadsheets, ten keys, and mechanical pencils.

And then it happened, a flash of light from photographer's camera, the reflection off of a balding head. It was him. It had to be. He was wearing brown dress pants, a yellow short sleeve dress shirt, and a moustache.

As he got closer to our table the butterflies in my stomach were going nuts. His presence was so overwhelming that I threw up a little bit in my mouth.


The hall we were in was very loud and here is the conversation that took place:

Soft Speaking Magical Accountant Guy: "Hi, (the rest of his sentence was drowned out by band noise)"

Me: "Hi, My name is Matt"

Magical Accounting Guy: "Dan?"

Me: "nice to meet you, Dan"

Magical Accounting Guy: "nice to meet you to, Dan"

And then the moment passed.

The only other time I spoke to him was during dinner when he said: "hey Dan, could you pass me a roll?". My response, "sure Dan."


This post has been brought to you by the letter S, The Number 4, and Brad's Balls

Road Rage

Story 1:

Just like most mornings I woke up late and didn’t really feel like going to work. Everything was going okay until I started making my breakfast and burned my bagel. I couldn’t find any ham so I ended up with a chicken and cheese breakfast sandwich. Still not a bad day.

So, I’m driving to work eating my burnt chicken and cheese bagel and I pull in to the passing lane to go around a semi. I look in my rearview and see a black Mercedes quickly pulling up behind me. Behind the wheel is a obnoxious woman screaming into her telephone. She looked a bit like a chicken with all the flapping and head bobbing and squawking going on in her car.

I speed up to try to get around the truck faster, check my mirror again and now see chicken head lady with her way to big sunglasses right behind me screaming. I speed up…I get enough room between my car and the truck and start to pull over to let her pass.

As I take a bite of my sandwich and try to forget about chicken head I look behind me and see her swerving into the right lane to pass me, still screaming at me, and the quickly swerve back into the left lane.

At this point I’m starting to feel all the anger boiling up in me…I start thinking about how bad my burnt bagel with chicken actually tastes, how not fun work is going to be, and about how Ice Cube was right when he said tv news coverage doesn’t care about what’s going on in the hood.

Before I knew it I realized my head and shoulders were completely outside the driver side window…my left middle finger was two feet away from chicken heads car and I was screaming, “I HOPE YOU DIE YOU F@*KING C#%T!!!”…(sorry ladies, but yes I dropped the C-word and I’m not proud of it). as I gathered myself and pulled my head and arm back into the car I thought about how disappointed Jesus, Oprah and even my grandmother would be.

After a few minutes I realized I didn’t care…it was a release. The best part is my work day turned out to be cakes and rainbows and pussy cats.

So I guess the moral of this story is that Chicken heads with big glasses are part of life and life is beautiful.