For April Fool’s I went and found the first ever landing page for website and put it up again saying we’d done a website redesign. Ha. So clever. I kill me. The site looked so very different over 12 years ago. A lot has changed.

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

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Ok, but really, just think about it for a second. I mean, that’s not natural. There is something seriously wrong with that guy.

What’s really messed up is while all those elves were making toys and all the other reindeer were being jerks and playing reindeer games, Rudolph was clearly in need of SERIOUS MEDICAL ATTENTION, but no one even thinks to call a vet or something. The guy has a freaking RED NOSE. And it GLOWS. Not just a little bit, but enough to see through dense patches of fog!!! Seriously, what is up with that?? How is this even possible??

And no one at the North pole stops and thinks, “Oh hey, you know, most reindeer don’t have flashlights for noses. How did this happen? Something might be wrong around here.”

Then again, maybe they DO think it. Maybe they think it and they’re just scared. That’s it. That’s got to be it. Because everyone knows who’s in charge up there at the North pole. And who stands to gain the most from a reindeer with a fog beacon for a nose? Yeah. That’s right. The fat man himself.

It’s all some sort of twisted science experiment gone horribly horribly wrong! Santa is up there playing god with reindeer and nobody does or says a thing! PETA has no jurisdiction at the North Pole, and everyone else is terrified of ending up on Santa’s naughty list! Rudolph’s just one of the lucky ones. Who knows what other misfit creatures Santa is responsible for up there… A spotted elephant?? A bird that swims instead of flies?! What next Santa?!?! WHAT NEXT?!?!

Also, if you could remember to bring me some new hockey gloves this year that would be awesome. The black and red ones. Size 14″. Thanks buddy.

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Once upon a time, when I was young and stupid and didn’t know any better, I actually wished that I lived someplace where it snowed. I had never seen snow, except of course in cartoons. And the cartoons always made snow seem like sooooo much fun. I envisioned huge enormous snowball fights with huge enormous snow forts that had been carefully designed and fortified to repel enemy invaders. I of course would win these epic battles, because my cause was noble and just.

Having already made up my mind, I would ask my father when we could move someplace where it snowed. My father, who had grown up in a land of cold winters, responded wisely, “you wouldn’t like the snow if you had to live in it.”

What did he mean? How was this possible? It always looked like the most fun ever on television! Television wouldn’t lie to me would it? Television was my friend!

Thankfully, we never moved to where it snowed. Years later I ventured into a strange, distant, and snowy land during my college years.

At first it wasn’t so bad. A little snowfall. Then it melted. No big deal. People kept telling me not to get used to it. The real snowfall would come in time.

Eventually, it did. And I learned just how terrible snow really is.

It was cold. It was wet. It was miserable. This problem was heightened by the fact that

• A.) The warmest thing I actually owned was my leather jacket.
• B.) All my shoes had holes in them so my socks would end up getting soaked from walking across campus.
• C.) Seriously, that stuff is cold.

Quickly I learned exactly what my dad had meant when he told me that I wouldn’t enjoy living in it. Previous to my college years we always left the snow up in the mountains where it belonged. If we wanted to go to where there was snow, we knew where to find it–safely tucked away in the Sierras. But now it was everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

It was outside the door. On the stairs. On the sidewalks. On the car. Driving anywhere wasn’t just a chore, it was a burden. First you had to get all the inches of snow off your car. Then you had to scrape off the ice underneath. Then you had to defog your windshield so you could actually see where you driving. (Sometimes, I just didn’t have patience for this last step. I may have been a little reckless.) And by some strange twist of cruel winter fate, it was always actually colder INSIDE your car then it was outside. Seriously. WHY WAS IT ALWAYS COLDER INSIDE MY CAR?! One should not be able to see one’s breath fogging everywhere inside your car. That’s just not right man. Not right at all.

The road was covered with ice, so who knows if you’d even make it back from Carl’s Jr. alive. You better enjoy that last meal.

I know what you’re going to say. “Oh but Matt, the snow is so pretty!”

FALSE. The snow is pretty for about a day. A DAY. You know what happens after that? It turns gray. It captures all the smog and dirt and filth and pollution that hovers trapped in the mountains and IT TURNS DIRTY AND GRAY. So you can’t play with it, and it doesn’t even look good anymore. The ONE redeeming quality of snow and it doesn’t last. Don’t believe me? Go ahead. Do an image search for “dirty snow.” Here. I’ll even provide the link for you:

LINK TO DIRTY UGLY SNOW

I had to live in that man. -shudders-

Fortunately I don’t have to concern myself with this evil any longer. Here in my homeland of California my leather jacket provides all the warmth I need for our 50-something degree winters. And my trusty car manages to keep me warm without the need of ice scrapers. In fact, it has been several years since I’ve even seen any real snow.

I don’t miss it.

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Have a SUPER Halloween everyone!!

Get it? Super? See what I did there?

I’m so clever.

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Pockets. Pockets. Pockets.

Many years ago in the first grade, pockets were everything. Pockets were it. Pockets were what mattered. Let me explain.

At the beginning of every class our teacher Ms. Wiley, would place a large pile of magic beans on our desks. They were in fact, flat glass marbles, but for some reason I always preferred to call them magic beans. Because magic beans is a way cooler name than flattened marbles. Attributing some sort of mystical power to these little glass objects increased their value exponentially.

Once the beans were placed on our desk, we were instructed to place a marble into each of our pockets. Every pocket. Jean pockets. Coat pockets. Shirt pockets. Even hat pockets. Once we had proceeded to put a marble into every last pocket, the teacher would then instruct us to remove one. We would count. 1. Then she would tell us to remove another. 2. This would continue until all the marbles had been removed from all the pockets.

I suppose the point of this exercise was to teach us how to count. But none of us, including Ms. Wiley really cared about the counting. No no. It was all about who could have the most pockets. The competition was on.

At first the amount of pockets was pretty standard. The average was 4 pockets or so. Kids who wore jeans got that sneaky extra little pocket that hides inside its larger brother on the right thigh. Pretty soon kids were wearing jackets to school with extra pockets on the outside and in. The record number of pockets got higher and higher.

We began layering our clothes. Doing anything we could to get one more pocket above the competition. Hooded sweatshirts were worn under jackets. Pants with extra pockets on the legs suddenly appeared.

But it was all over when that one girl wore her special pocket jacket.

There was a girl who sat on the other side of the room. I cannot remember her name. We’ll call her Ralphina. Ralphina had this jacket with what seemed like a ka-zillion pockets. It was completely unfair. Some of us worked really really hard to come up with ways to scrounge out an extra pocket or two. But Ralphina didn’t have to. All she had to do was wear her special jacket.

You see during this particular era, at the height of their popularity was the exceptionally trendy: jean jacket. Yes, the denim jacket. So popular in its day. So ostracized after its fall. But one thing they didn’t lack, was pockets. I don’t know what it was about the 80′s but man did we sure have a thing for pockets.

The highest number of magic beans I was ever able to place in my pockets was 13. 13 pockets was the highest I was capable of. 5 in my jeans. 1 on the breast of a t-shirt that I hated but only wore for the pocket. 1 in a Stanford hooded sweatshirt that was handed down from my cousin. And 5 in my own jean jacket.

That was my record. It wasn’t the highest ever, but it was the best I was capable of. The pinnacle of my pocket planning plot.

Ralphina had 17.

SEVENTEEN POCKETS!!!

Who the HECK needs 17 pockets?!?!

After a while Ms. Wiley stopped having us place magic beans in our pockets. I suppose it’s possible that she had decided we had all adequately proved that we knew our numbers. But I don’t think that was the case. No one likes a blow out. I think she, like us, knew that the competition was over. Ralphina’s special jacket had won the day.

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Have a very happy Independence Day!!

~Matt

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Dear Santa,

Hey! How are you doing? I hope all is well up there at the North Pole. I hear it’s cold, so I hope you are taking some well deserved time off to warm yourself by the fire and drink some hot cocoa. I’m sure you’ve been working really hard, you deserve a break.

How is Mrs. Claus? Still making those delicious cupcakes? Best cupcakes in the northern hemisphere! Please send her my love.

I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m writing. I mean, we both already know that I’ve been a VERY good boy this year. I don’t need to tell you that. So I won’t waste your time reminding you of all the good deeds and acts of kindness I performed over the course of 2012, or about all the trouble I DIDN’T get into.

Basically I just thought it might be wise to mention a few ideas about what I might like for Christmas. Y’know…in case you hadn’t gotten to me on your list yet. I’m sure you already have some great ideas of your own, but I thought you might like a little input from me anyway.

1. Another Giants World Series Championship

First of all, thank you, once again, for the championship baseball season. I was still enjoying the 2010 championship you got me and was totally overjoyed when you brought another one for us to play with! I wouldn’t mind if you decided to bring another in 2013…it’s not really a present that I get tired of receiving.

2. A new car (’77 or ’78 Datsun 280z  5 speed – Blue)

It’s not that I don’t like my current make and model…it’s just that there’s kind of a giant hole in the ceiling. I fixed the mirror and the broken window. All by myself! I think my resourcefulness deserves to be rewarded somehow. Maybe you could find a nice Datsun 280z in that magical gift bag of yours. I know it won’t exactly fit into my stocking, but maybe you could leave it outside?

3. A massive adoring fan base who loyally pays my rent every month and actively recruits new adoring fans.

Just to be clear–that’s a massive adoring fan base. Not to be confused with an adoring massive fan base. I feel like that’s an important distinction. But that’s just my preference. I mean, I guess it doesn’t really matter if my adoring fan base is entirely made up of massive people. Just as long as the rent gets paid.

4. A smokin-hot wife

You seem to need constant reminders that I’d like one of these for Christmas, as I have not yet received one. So I thought I’d better remind you one more time since the 25th of December is almost here. It would be really great if a nice, intelligent, classy, brunette were to find herself under my Christmas tree this holiday season. Or she could be in my Christmas stocking (or stockings). Either way, I would really love one of these for Christmas, and I promise to take reeeeaaaaaally good care of her and not break her or anything. I’ll be really careful unwrapping her. Yes please.

Thanks Santa, I really appreciate it. I’ll leave the usual milk and cookies out for you per our usual arrangement. But if you happen to find everything on my list this year, you might just discover that milk to be mixed with chocolate. Just sayin’.

Merry Christmas big guy.

Sincerely,

~Matt

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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 that time again folks. The holiday season of gift giving is once again upon us. Time to go find that perfect gift. Get out there. Brave the holiday crowds. Hustle before all the good stuff is taken off the shelves.

What’s that you say? You’re stumped about what totally awesome gift to acquire for that totally awesome person in your life? You need some ideas to help you get the right gift for that special someone? Never fear, ye weary wanderer of the world wide web. I am the all and powerful internet, and I am here to provide you with answers.

Here are a list of things which would make outstanding gifts for ANY person in their right mind:

1. An Al Roker lawn gnome. I know they don’t exist. Not yet. But give it time.

2. 2012 World Series Championship gear Because duh.

3. Two large tubs of Red Vines. Don’t tease someone by only giving them one. Go big or go home.

4. A non-Apple computer.

5. A robot arm.

6. Carp Island.

7. Socks.

8. The complete box-set of the Adventures of Teddy Ruxpin. Actually forget your friends and family, you should just go out and buy it for yourself. Trust me on this one. You’ll thank me later.

9. A DeLorean.

10. An Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle.

11. TWO gold plated hand puppets of monkeys (so they can talk to each other).

12. Large cash donations to his or hers cartoon website. Ready go.

13. Amy Adams’s phone number. Yes please.

14. Milk. You can never have enough milk.

So there ya go. Any of these simple gifts ought to make for the best Christmas ever. When your friends and family unwrap their presents this year and their eyes light up with childlike joy and wonder, you’ll be glad you took my advice. You’re welcome.

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