Every Now And Then I Get A Little Bit Nervous That The Best Of All The Years Have Gone By

I'm going to postpone my silly music blog and say only this.

In highschool, you are not obligated to share the truth with your peers. You must prove that you are above them. You need to show the admissions department at the colleges of your choice that you are a more desirable student than the others with whom you graduated. In life, it's different. When you discover the truth, you are obligated to share it with as many as you can, lest they lead pointless lives because you were selfish.

For this reason, there will be no peace until we are all one religion, or we are all no religion.

This is the only belief I have that every one of you must agree with, unless you are absolutely without conviction, or are one hundred percent selfish.

Love always,
Matt

He Was A Shooting Star

To Whom it May Concern:

I am writing to you regarding the wrappers of Tootsie Roll Industries’ “Tootsie Roll Pop.” I have been enjoying this confection for many years now, and prefer it to the standard “Tootsie Roll.” The varied flavors of lollipop around the Tootsie Roll center add an undeniably delicious flavor to the traditional Tootsie Roll candy.

My question refers to the wrapper of the Tootsie Roll Pop. I have been saving the wrappers that contain the “Indian Shooting Star,” an individual clothed in Native American garb and wielding a bow and arrow, which is aimed at a star. I have heard for years that wrappers featuring this depiction are more valuable than other wrappers in that they can be traded for merchandise, or another Tootsie Roll Pop. I have heard different accounts of their actual value, but these seem to be the most common. What I am wondering is, how can I trade in my wrappers for whatever it is they can supposedly be traded for? I have been trying to find some sort of catalog that outlines the process, but have met with no success. I have a Betty Crocker catalog which I received in exchange for General Mills box tops, and Kool-Aid points can be used to obtain Kool-Aid merchandise that is readily available right on the side of the package.

I would appreciate information on how I can get my share of whatever it is I have coming to me. I currently have 14,355 wrappers with the “Indian Shooting Star” and 1,611 with part of the “Indian Shooting Star,” which may not be worth as much as those with the entire picture. Please get back to me as soon as possible regarding this issue, as I am planning on moving to a smaller apartment where I will not have space for my shoeboxes full of Tootsie Roll Pop wrappers.


Sincerely,

Matt

Shopping Should Be Fun

I'm about to write a blog about shopping. That's weird.

It all started about 6 months ago, when I bought a suit, went to a wedding and enjoyed both. It wasn't long ago that wearing a tie would almost make me sick. Then a few months later I looked in my closet and realized I hated about half a dozen shirts that I regularly wore to work. I sold them at a yard sale for a quarter each and decided to go for quality over quantity, which is not something that comes easily to me. Once for my class reunion I spent sixty bucks on a shirt, which I hadn't done before or since. I usually go to Target and get 2 shirts and 2 pairs of pants for that money. So now I'm like, "I have terrible taste, and I end up getting stuff that I don't like. And I'm spending less, so I get MORE of it." That's just plain stupid.

Part of the problem is that I hate trying on clothes. For years I've bought pants that may or may not fit properly because no two brands are cut the same, so a 30 length is fine on some but highwater on others. No big deal - I just wear taller boots with those ones. Then the next time I buy 32s. And they're way too long. I think I wear a 31 inch inseam, but I'd have to get all my pants tailored if I want that length and I'm not to that point yet. Also size 13 of some boots is too big, but 12 is too small and most brands under $200 don't make twelve-and-a-half. Size large shirts are often too small but extra large is like a tent. Where did I get these fucked up proportions? I would whine about my right eye being good and my left eye not so much, but I think that's kind of normal. But I digress.

As my blue jeans wear out, or I just get tired of them being too short or too long, I'm getting rid of them but trying not to replace them. I did break down and try on some clothes a few weeks ago, and was able to score one good pair of pants out of four I tried on. No luck on the shirts. They looked good on the rack but not on me and I realized that trying this shit on was the way I'd have to do it from now on. The problem is that while I have the desire to wear nicer things, I don't have the ability to recognize them. I tried on a few things which seemed trendy and realized I can't even come close to pulling that crap off. I guess at 30 I need to focus on dressing like a man instead of a college student or a hick. That sounds a little depressing, but also kind of refreshing. We'll see how this ends up. Where does a guy turn for fashion advice when GQ is way out of his budget? And did I just write "where does a guy turn for fashion advice?" Son of a bitch. I should have got drunk for this one, it would have been way funnier. And you know what's even funnier? I went to open a bottle of wine just now, and all that's left is some white zinfandel that's been in the fridge for at least 3 years. So I went to have a beer instead, but there's only one left and it's not cold. So you know what I'm drinking? This must be the second full glass of white zin I've ever had in my life. It doesn't really taste like wine. And it's not really white.

So enough about shopping and fruity wines - you guys should hear what I've been listening to during my commute for the last two weeks! And at home, and at work... my car sounds like Night at the fucking Roxbury for two hours a day. Yep - 90s dance music. We're talking Real McCoy, Londonbeat, Technotronic, La Bouche, Snap, Reel 2 Real, Ace of Base and - you guessed it - Haddaway.



I'd better take it easy or I'm going to be bumping the Cascada in my Neon. A couple of mornings ago I turned on the radio and listened to regular music for a while - it was weird. Like it had been ten years since I'd heard normal rock and roll, but it was really only a few weeks. It was that morning that I heard this song, which I really liked. It isn't new, but I hadn't heard of her before so I picked up the album and it's really good. Here's the song that got me, from the album "The Story."



I think she's super-duper.

Good evening then, think I'll have another glass and put this poor bottle out of its misery.

I'll Have What the Gentleman On the Floor Is Having

It's been so long since I actually got off work on time that I forgot what a shitty undertaking it is to get on the freeway at 5:00. What a mess. It gave me a chance to realize how attached I've gotten to my little egg-shaped Neon. Besides the outstanding gas mileage, it has a great stock sound system. It blows my truck's stereo out of the water, even with the Power Ram's new Dynamat-mounted speakers in the doors. The noise in the cab is so outrageously loud it would take a lot of watts and insulation to make it any good, I guess. I only mention this stuff because of some of the weird music I have been listening to of late. Don't even ask. It makes no sense.

To business. Fourteen days ago, I was out of the country for the first time in twenty-five years. And I'm not even completely sure I actually crossed the border that time, although I did get a giant sombrero out of the deal. But I digress. It was an abslutely incredible cruise of the eastern Caribbean, and I've been trying to figure out how to share it with all of you in an efficient yet engaging manner. Here goes.

Landed in Fort Lauderdale and took a shuttle that honked a lot but wasn't aggressive. Shared the van with three middle-aged couples going on a different cruise. They envied me but only because I lied. Got to Haddon Hall in South Beach (water so clear you could see to the bottom - hundred-thousand-dollar cars, everybody's got 'em) where all the girls had put their clothes back on because of the cold. Balls. Smoked some hand-rolled cigars with no drugs, drank some rum, drank some beer, watched a kid get the shivers as he got hit on by guys in short-shorts and halter tops. Spent ninety dollars at a bar called Lost Weekend where, unsurprisingly, the beautiful bartenders had never heard of the movie. Wanted to buy a t-shirt but didn't. Bought drinks for an Adult Entertainer who bailed unexpectedly, which is a good thing. Fell asleep around four and missed our checkout time. Went to the dock and saw the boat. It looked like this:



Boarded easily with a birth certificate so real it looked fake. Put a liter of scotch and a six pack-of beer through the metal detector in my suitcase. Went to bed wondering how long it would be before I was sleeping on the balcony. Woke up and played some trivia, didn't win. Looked at pictures, read some Thompson, drank some scotch and played more trivia. Realized I forgot my good pants and tried to get a girl with a hook for a hand to match a tie to my business-casual getup. Looked like a Jack-O-Lantern. Drank some scotch, drank some rum, drank some wine. Went on a 6-hour blackout that started like this:



Got up and went outside to see a pirate ship that was maneuvering to board. It looked like this:



Was pretty out of it by then but am pretty sure we repelled them with small arms fire. Mine not included, which I had left behind thinking it would be discovered by the metal detector. Went snorkeling, kissed a stingray, burned my back to a deep and beautiful red. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of '99, wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it." Had a margarita at Margaritaville, had 6 vodka collinses at the bar. Bought a necklace. Played some trivia. Held an impromptu karaoke session on the stern, deck 9. Ate some free pizza, drank some Guinness, slept for three hours and got off the boat on Roatan. Took some pictures, bought some more necklaces, almost died in a van and rode some ziplines. Saw some guys get teabagged by a monkey. Tipped the monkey. Went to a private beach called Fantasy Island, wondered how many times the driver had heard jokes about "De plane, boss, de plane." Made a joke about De Plane. Floated on my back trying to burn my stomach. Failed. Went to buy a bucket of beer, bought a crate of beer instead. Drank some tasty beer. It looked like this:



Don't know what the drinking age was on Roatan but everyone came back on the gaier side of sobriety. Took our time getting ready and had to race through town to make the last tender back to the ship. It was loud as hell and we thought the others in the van were going to turn on us. It looked like this:



Ate some shrimp cocktail, ate some escargot, drank some Long Islands, drank some rum and wished I had more scotch. Closed the piano bar for the fourth straight night. Nearly got thrown out of the disco because somebody insisted on smoking his fucking cee-gar. Blacked out. Ate some pizza, drank some Boddington's, drank some whiskey sours, threw a flashlight off the balcony just to watch it sink. Hoped the power didn't go out since my flashlight was in the ocean. Woke up on a bus in Belize. Reset my autopilot which doesn't get used much but is still reliable, like a Dodge or a fat girl. Drank some cashew wine, drank some Crown, thought about asking the tour guide for pot. Don't smoke myself but he obviously had good stuff. Hiked in the jungle, floated down the river, didn't get batshit on me and was glad. Kissed a pig while no one was looking, gave it the flu. Ate some prime rib, drank some wine, drank some beer, drank some wine, drank some rum, played some bingo, wished I was young again, remembered I was, drank some rum, called the bank to get my debit card reactivated. Danced with the girl at the desk while I was on hold, because we were both missing the big show down the hall. Woke up early the next day for cartoon theme song trivia, won first place in overtime. Thanked FSM that I knew the Mighty Mouse theme song and the composer of The Pink Panther. Won a 24K gold plastic piece of ship. It looked like this:



It's sort of a blur after this. We went to Cozumel, I bought a bunch of shit, went to Paradise Beach and bought all the the drink specials with funny names. Did the backstroke out to the giant trampolines with my drink balanced on my rock-hard abs. Drank some more beer and got lost in a Mexican superstore. Played a game show where I guessed that a Big Mac might have weighed more than an average American female breast but in my defense I thought it was a trick question. Eliminated early, c'est la vie. Finished the last 36 hours in expected fashion, got off the boat and didn't get me land legs back fer nearly a week. Can't wait till next time.

M