Matt and Michael have a dinner invitation, but need to prepare a dish to share.

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A little extra green for St. Patrick’s Day…

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Happy Useless Fruit Smashing Day everyone.

~Matt

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Candy! Candy! Let’s buy candy!!

And by “let’s” I really mean, “you.”

And by “buy” I really mean “send me.”

Ready go.

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This one is dedicated to all you craft loving, scrap booking, Pinterest obsessed, women out there. As men we really don’t appreciate the time and effort that goes into these artsy little projects of yours. We aren’t up to date with the various Martha Stewart-isms. We don’t understand the importance of mastering the various arts and crafts that you’ve seen online and hope to duplicate in all their splendor. No, we simply can’t be bothered to pay much attention to that sort of thing. But we still like your cupcakes. We’ll always eat your cupcakes. So there ya go.

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It’s almost Thanksgiving. And you know what that means. No, I’m not talking about seeing family. Forget them. I’m talking about seeing pie. Glorious, delicious, wonderous, pie. Pies of all kinds. Pumpkin. Apple. Lemon Meringue. Fat pies. Skinny pies. Pies who climb on rocks.

THIS is what Thanksgiving is about people. Don’t let anyone fool you into believing otherwise.

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It has been well documented that girls only like guys with skills. So it should come as no surprise then, that women prefer a man who can actually take care of himself in some capacity. I suspect this means a steady job or income, the skill of dressing oneself, and the ability to not run in a frenzied panic and hide under the bed every time a bill arrives in the mail. I can’t be certain, but I sense that’s what women today are hoping for.

And then of course, there is the ability to sustain oneself by eating. I’ve taken a lot of flack for this over the years, given the fact that I frequently eat the same things everyday. Things, which given my skill set in the kitchen, require little to no culinary preparation whatsoever. I don’t really see a problem with it. I’m healthy. I never seem to grow tired of the same foods everyday. I get my nutrients. Most of them. Except the green ones. And I save a whole lot of precious cartoon-making time by not wasting hours in the kitchen when I’m hungry NOW. So I really don’t see the problem. I am in fact, happy with my meals.

Women on the other hand think there’s something wrong with me. They feel it’s important to fix me. They notice my extreme bachelorhood and respond in one of two ways. Either they shake their heads in disdain and frustration at the hopeless man-child before them, or… OR! they take it upon themselves to feed this poor hungry soul. That’s right boys and girls, I have unwittingly discovered the secret to having all kinds of delicious meals suddenly making their way onto your dinner plate.

I didn’t plan it this way. It just happened. All of a sudden, people discovered that I only spend $30 a month on groceries and they started bringing me food. And who am I to deny their kindness?? It’s a way better system than food stamps. Trust me.

Alma makes great cookies (when she doesn’t burn them on purpose), but her real strength is in her shredded beef tacos. Sooooooo good.

Rosie makes these amazing fudge bars, but what’s even better than that is her meatballs. No one can eat just 9.

I have mentioned in past posts about the tantalizing and addictive nature of Kaye’s mint brownies. Never was there a more exquisite brownie made. Seriously. You will lose the taste for all other brownies when once the mint bar has grazed your taste buds. And her husband Bob makes the greatest homemade pizzas ever. EVER.

Laura used to make me strawberry pie when we worked together. But the REAL queen of pie is Sharon. Oh. My. Goodness. When Sharon calls and tells me there is a Lemon Meringue pie waiting for me to come and pick it up it’s like five Christmas all rolled into one. When you bite into a slice it’s like magic. Like wonder. Like magic and wonder. Like pink fluffy unicorns dancing on rainbows. Oh Lemon pie. You are so delicious. Mmmmm….

And of course my mother makes the greatest macaroni and cheese known to man, which sounds silly until you’ve tried it, and your mind, body, and soul are completely blown away by the most perfect and desirable food that has been or ever will be created.

So you see, I actually eat pretty well. Now I know what you’re thinking. I’m a reasonably intelligent person. And you’re right, I suppose I COULD sit down and learn how to actually make these foods myself. But it just wouldn’t be the same. It’s just so much nicer when it comes from the kindness of one of my friends. I think their efforts actually make the food better somehow. Maybe that’s why it always tastes better when you make it.

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Sometimes I can’t help but think about random things. The great questions of our day. Why DOES toast taste different than normal bread? Why do hot dogs come in packages of 10 and hot dog buns come in packages of 8? Why don’t we eat yellow snow?

The answers to such great and mysterious questions allude me in life. Perhaps the world may never know.

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What time is it? It’s waffle time! Oh how I love those sweet, sweet, toaster waffles. I am being completely serious when I say that from the year 1993 to the year 2003, I ate two Eggo waffles for breakfast every morning. Just to be clear, I literally mean EVERY. MORNING. One would think that you could get sick of Eggo waffles, but in that 10-year period, they were the most glorious and wondrous way to start my day.

I still regularly eat them. There’s nothing quite like a good toaster waffle. Their delicious aroma as they gently crisp in the toaster. The sweet, savory, maple syrup being poured over them. The hearty glass of milk awaiting you when you’ve finished that last bite of waffle. Mmmmmmm…

I always have to have my waffles. Once while I was working overseas out in the pacific islands I was living on the tiny island of Yap. Yes. That is a real place, and it’s awesome. Yap had one major grocery store on the island. And by “major” I really mean “incredibly tiny.” There were no waffles in the store, but there were rumors of waffles in frozen yellow boxes having made their way to the island before. So I went to the girl behind the counter and tried to explain the glory that is frozen toaster waffles. She insisted that she could indeed get them to the island. I was skeptical, but allowed myself to hope. Oh how I needed my waffles.

4-6 weeks later the little store’s freezer was completely stocked with Eggo waffles. They didn’t just order a few boxes. They ordered a ridiculous mount of boxes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many boxes of frozen toaster waffles all at once.

I bought them all.

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I’ve been out of town and I’ve been eating like crud. You know you have a problem when the drive thru guys start to recognize your car and have your order ready before you even open your mouth…

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