Friday, January 30, 2009
If You Seek Godot....
There is this big controversy of the Britney Spears (os as I call her "B.S") song "If You Seek Amy" because the phrase sounds like you are spelling out a very non-Oxford English Dictionary word.
I kept saying the title of the song in my head and I have to say---really? That's the best you could do? It's like she's playing a weird verion of the board game "Mad Gab".
Oh B.S., I think your bounty of writers could have done better. Maybe:
"Brit Ten Knee Bee Lows Chun Keys"
or
"Rot Into Thick Core"
or
"Mice Ongs Suck"
OK, so I was reaching on that last one.
Brian "My Kill Jack Sun” Matthews
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Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Mouse Speaks
Life....as seen by my cat (named Mouse)
1. The goofy one gives me treats. I think I like him.
2. I peed on the goofy one's slippers. He stopped petting me and I wasn't ready for him to stop.
3. If I had my claws, I'd carve the dog a new opening.
4. I decided to stop grooming myself today. I'm fixed, so who am I trying to impress?
5. I sleep because I am inspired to do so, not be cause I'm lazy. If you have a problem with it, you better hide your slippers.
6. If it wasn't for the goofy one, I'm pretty sure I could have one of the children as a pet.
Brian "The Goofy One” Matthews
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Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Why I went to the Emergency room and got an EKG, Skippy
A little over a week ago, I was doing some home improvements and my heart starts beating out of my chest. Just an uncomfortable feeling. And knowing I have a family history of heart thingies, I became concerned. So I did what every man does…..I waited to see what happened next. I waited for a couple days before I decided I best go get a second opinion. The good news was…I was still alive, the bad news was, I had decided to quit caffeine as a precaution.
I call in to get an appointment and I was told to go to the Emergency Room since it was chest pain, technically. It was there I got a collection of stickers attached to wires adhered to my furry chest. I had a very nice doctor explaining the possibilities and then I heard what I feared most---“I’ll get some blood drawn.” My history of blood draws is rooted in experiences where I pass out and fall on someone. It usually ends up with me getting bruises and a prescription for a sedative so they can try again later.
This time, June—the vampire, took my blood and I didn’t even pass out. Chalk one up for June!
So a while later I leave the ER wearing a heart monitor and knowing I can’t drink any caffeine. I also left a little less hairy since removing the 300 super adhesive stickers made my chest hair look like a sick cat. My kids thought the heart monitor was cool. Daddy has an iPod for his heart. Sure it has a solid beat to it, but I still can’t dance to that music.
One other thing…there is nothing less sexy than a man with patchy chest hair wearing a heart monitor. Nothing. That’s all I’m going to say about that.
Enough of the history….flash forward to today. It’s my follow up with my regular doc. It’s the time where he could say, “Well, let’s thread a tube through your groin up to your heart and burn some stuff….oh yeah, this would be while you are awake”. I’m a little anxious. What did that little heart monitor find?
The doc comes in, opens my folder, listens to my heart and says—“Welcome to the club”. Turns out he gets the same thing. He tells me I have a healthy heart, blah blah blah, keep doing what you are doing….oh and I can drink caffeine again if I want.
Hallelujah!
Now, I forgot to mention that I am kinda angry. I’m a little miffed. See, after the nurse pulled up my charts and before the doc entered the room, I glanced over the report from the ER. There it was in black and white: “The patient presents as a middle-aged white male.” Middle aged. MIDDLE AGED!
I’m 36. 36 is middle aged. Apparently to medical staff, I look middle aged.
I’m normally not a vain person. I’ve been know to not care what other people think, but “MIDDLE AGED”?!?! COME ON!
Does this mean I can have a mid-life crisis? Buy a sports car, dress inappropriately younger than I am, maybe even do something radical—like change my name to “Skip”. I don’t want to be called “Skip”, “Skippy”, “Skipbo” or “Skiparino”. This is so unfair. I’m not a “Skip”. I’m barely cool enough to carry off the name “Brian” and “Brian” isn’t a cool name! This is going to be a problem.
Brian "Skippy Peanutbutter" Matthews
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Monday, January 5, 2009
Happy New Year...or Gently-Used Year!
Every year in January, I look back on past year’s resolutions to lose weight, reform bad habits, or stop referring to anyone I don’t know as “Sheldon”. Of course the first few months goes well. I eat my high fiber, low fat diet with a smile. I grow out my toenails and start learning these people’s names. Every last one of them. All will go well until the thaw. The weather warms up and my “resolution” goes the way of the Narrow-Flippered Penguin. It’s a cycle that needs to be broken, or I, like the Narrow-Flippered Penguin, will languish at the peril of my natural enemy—inflexibility and the inability to fly.
So I’ve decided to take up smoking. This will serve a couple purposes:
1. I can quit next year at New Years
2. I am helping stimulate the economy by buying one of the most heavily taxed products in the U.S.
3. I will get the black lung I’ve always wanted.
Wish me luck, Sheldon.
Brian "Puff Daddy" Matthews
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