I was about to let another lazy night go by where I just fell asleep to a movie without blogging, but it's been a week and I think June 2008 has been a month worthy enough to squeeze another post out of me as its final hours dwindle away.
I have successfully convinced (I think) most of the children at my park of two absurdities. One is that my mother is a gorilla (yes, an actual gorilla), and the other is that I own 89 pet chickens (one of which is named Chelsea). They honestly and truly believe this, unless they are really good pretenders. They keep asking me detailed questions about Chelsea and often have me translate English phrases into Gorilla for them.
After reading the above paragraph to myself, and realizing how proud I am to have tricked small children into believing such stupid things, I think it is official. I am a loser.
Anyway, this weekend was an adventure. First I saw Wall-E with my sibs (amazing). Then on Sunday I went with my sis Steph and my beloved Vogutta to the Twin Cities Pride parade and festival. Now, you must know that I am the biggest cynic of such parades and festivals. I believed I belong at a gay pride festival as much as I belong at a Juggling Skills Pride Festival, which is NOT AT ALL a place I would ever be invited to. My theory is that they should have a "College GPA" pride, because I would be ALL over that bitch! At least I had to study and work for that..... there was no "gay audition," although sometimes I fear if I don't pop in my showtunes or gel my hair at least once a week that my license will be revoked.
Anyway, regardless of my pre-pride skepticism, I had a rather enjoyable time. It was nice to be in a place where my scathing remarks and bitchiness were not only unwanted, they were completely unnecessary. Of course, this made me a little uncomfortable at first because everyone was so genuinely comfortable and happy that I had no targets, but after I got used to it and joined all the gayness, it was a really really great day. Things like that kind of change my perspective on life..... suddenly I realize this world isn't just about me and my selfish insecurities.... it's nice to have a bitch-slap to the face of reality sometimes.
I love Christie Vogt. We were scoping out our future top-floor condos as we roamed the city. We found a few very nice-looking terraces, and I for one cannot wait for a few years to pass so we can be committed to each other and fill our fancy apartment with asian babies (which we will return to their owners at the end of the day because everyone knows babies are too much responsibility).
If you ever want to be really uncomfortable, call in your local radio and tell them to play "I Kissed a Girl" while you are in the car with your dad.
I bought a bus ticket to Chicago last week. I am going July 18th with Kelsey Jor-Jor and I am ridiculously excited to get a way, even if it's just for a few days. Time is flying by until this stupid summer job thing is over, I turn 21 and school begins again!!!!!!! Cannot wait!!!
P.S. E-Harp, I got August Osage County in the mail today and am already hooked. Thanks for the rec.
I wrote the P.S. before the signature even happened,
Matty B.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
I Forgot Something
I realize I just posted, but I have something more to say, and I figure instead of updating the other post, it is much more fun and glamorous to write an entirely new one.
Can someone please tell me when the word 'funna' replace the word 'gonna'? I went to the library yesterday, for a few reasons. The first was to see if I even had an account there still, because I haven't been there since I was maybe 10 years old. The second was to see if I owed them money, because on my last visit (when I was 10) I checked out about 7 Goosebumps books and kept them...... forever. I peeled off the library stickers and whited out the library stamps and wrote my names on all of them, thinking that would make them exclusive to my ownership. For about two years, the library sent endless mail to my house to try and get me to either return them or pay for them, but I just ripped up the letters and chose to remain in denial of my books' true origins.
Anyway, the library lady looked up my name, and I did have an account, but by some miracle I owed them ZERO dollars!!!! Anyway, when she brought up my account she said "ooooh, it was funna be deleted!!!" After having her repeat herself 3 times, I finally realized the context in which she was using that word. I have yet to decide how I feel about it. A part of me despises it, but a part of me really wants to use it (in fact, I admit that I did say 'funna' at least twice last night).
That's my story.
Bye.
Matty B.
P.S.
COMMENT ON MY POSTS!
P.P.S.
The influx of readership on my blog is making me a little nervous. I feel kind of pressured to be the next John Grisham or Diablo Cody or R.L. Stine.
Can someone please tell me when the word 'funna' replace the word 'gonna'? I went to the library yesterday, for a few reasons. The first was to see if I even had an account there still, because I haven't been there since I was maybe 10 years old. The second was to see if I owed them money, because on my last visit (when I was 10) I checked out about 7 Goosebumps books and kept them...... forever. I peeled off the library stickers and whited out the library stamps and wrote my names on all of them, thinking that would make them exclusive to my ownership. For about two years, the library sent endless mail to my house to try and get me to either return them or pay for them, but I just ripped up the letters and chose to remain in denial of my books' true origins.
Anyway, the library lady looked up my name, and I did have an account, but by some miracle I owed them ZERO dollars!!!! Anyway, when she brought up my account she said "ooooh, it was funna be deleted!!!" After having her repeat herself 3 times, I finally realized the context in which she was using that word. I have yet to decide how I feel about it. A part of me despises it, but a part of me really wants to use it (in fact, I admit that I did say 'funna' at least twice last night).
That's my story.
Bye.
Matty B.
P.S.
COMMENT ON MY POSTS!
P.P.S.
The influx of readership on my blog is making me a little nervous. I feel kind of pressured to be the next John Grisham or Diablo Cody or R.L. Stine.
When the Sun Goes Down
My parents are out of town. In other words, I am in a fabulous mood. I took off work for the evening, and I am currently lounging on the sofa with Mallorie awaiting the premiere of Camp Rock, which is the new Disney Channel movie starring the Jonas Brothers. It's kind of a BFD.
Anyway, I realize it has been eons since my last entry, so allow me to recap the antics of my life. When we last left off, our hero and his two faithful friends (James and Stacey) ventured to Duluth for a party entitled "One Night at the Speakeasy." We put on our finest '20's garb (suspenders from ragstock and a faux-old-timey hat, and made the two hour trek to see some old friends of mine. It was a blast!!!
The next day, we went to the Minneapolis Mosaic multi-cultural festival, which consisted of hula dancing, intense booty dancing, step dancing, flamenco dancing, and some other kinds of dancing. It was all good fun except there was this one mildy retarded person in tie-dye who seemed to think they could just join the public performances and dance along with all of the people who had practiced so hard for all of us. She was SUCH an inconsiderate bitch.
Besides that weekend, I have done pretty much nothing fun. I am two weeks into my summer job, working with kids every day. I love chitrins.... but here's the thing: There are 26 of them, and just one other girl and me watching them. How do you like those odds? It is simply not fair. I basically work day to day trying to make sure all the kids stay alive.
Now it's time for a crazy mother story (no, not MY crazy mother, although her craziness hasn't slowed down in weeks of late). There is a mom at our park who has 2 children that attend. The other day she asked us to specifically monitor the drinking habits of her kids because they came home EXTREMELY dehydrated the day before (which basically to them was my fault). So I made the girls drink some wa-wa, and then the bitch calls the city and complains that I was "segregating" her kids when I made THEM drink water and nobody else!!!
If you are out there, lady..... suck it. Segregation is SO '60's, and does DEFINITELY not apply to this situation. If you want your kids hydrated, hook them up to an IV, don't complain to me.
Uh oh, we were just introduced to the "diva" of Camp Rock. This is going to be D to the Rama.
Anyway, too much storytelling in this entry.
Basically, I miss college. Not necessarily Stevens Point, and not necessarily the humans that inhabit central Wisconsin (although I do miss many), but just college in general. When I was young and gay and watching Grease, Danny and Sandy taught me that Summer was supposed to be an escape where you could just roll on the beach and make out under the dock. Where the fuck is my make-out dock partner? No summer lovin' for me? Grease can suck it too.
I have a theory that the Jonas brothers are not, in fact, brothers at all. Let's investigate, shall we?
I will probably update this again really soon because there are a lot of delectible details from my life that I have left out, so stay tuned, folks!
Disney Channel needs to stop producing badly-singing sluts,
Matty B.
Anyway, I realize it has been eons since my last entry, so allow me to recap the antics of my life. When we last left off, our hero and his two faithful friends (James and Stacey) ventured to Duluth for a party entitled "One Night at the Speakeasy." We put on our finest '20's garb (suspenders from ragstock and a faux-old-timey hat, and made the two hour trek to see some old friends of mine. It was a blast!!!
The next day, we went to the Minneapolis Mosaic multi-cultural festival, which consisted of hula dancing, intense booty dancing, step dancing, flamenco dancing, and some other kinds of dancing. It was all good fun except there was this one mildy retarded person in tie-dye who seemed to think they could just join the public performances and dance along with all of the people who had practiced so hard for all of us. She was SUCH an inconsiderate bitch.
Besides that weekend, I have done pretty much nothing fun. I am two weeks into my summer job, working with kids every day. I love chitrins.... but here's the thing: There are 26 of them, and just one other girl and me watching them. How do you like those odds? It is simply not fair. I basically work day to day trying to make sure all the kids stay alive.
Now it's time for a crazy mother story (no, not MY crazy mother, although her craziness hasn't slowed down in weeks of late). There is a mom at our park who has 2 children that attend. The other day she asked us to specifically monitor the drinking habits of her kids because they came home EXTREMELY dehydrated the day before (which basically to them was my fault). So I made the girls drink some wa-wa, and then the bitch calls the city and complains that I was "segregating" her kids when I made THEM drink water and nobody else!!!
If you are out there, lady..... suck it. Segregation is SO '60's, and does DEFINITELY not apply to this situation. If you want your kids hydrated, hook them up to an IV, don't complain to me.
Uh oh, we were just introduced to the "diva" of Camp Rock. This is going to be D to the Rama.
Anyway, too much storytelling in this entry.
Basically, I miss college. Not necessarily Stevens Point, and not necessarily the humans that inhabit central Wisconsin (although I do miss many), but just college in general. When I was young and gay and watching Grease, Danny and Sandy taught me that Summer was supposed to be an escape where you could just roll on the beach and make out under the dock. Where the fuck is my make-out dock partner? No summer lovin' for me? Grease can suck it too.
I have a theory that the Jonas brothers are not, in fact, brothers at all. Let's investigate, shall we?
I will probably update this again really soon because there are a lot of delectible details from my life that I have left out, so stay tuned, folks!
Disney Channel needs to stop producing badly-singing sluts,
Matty B.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
I don't drink hot liquids of any kind.... that's the Devil's temperature.
Hi Blog world. I have so much to update about!
First of all, WELCOME to my new readers!!!! I have been slutting myself up and down the world trying to get people to read this and it just may have paid off. Also, feel free to comment at any moment!!!!
Now what's new in my life?
Well,
Yesterday I took my drug test for the city of Cottage Grove. I start with the kids on Monday, so I had to go in and piss in a cup first to make sure I wasn't gonna be smoking pot around and/or with the kids (which, let's be honest I am the kids' ONLY connection to the good shit). Anyway, I hate drug tests. Not out of fear of testing positive, but because it is overall just a humiliating and dehumanizing experience. First, you have some bitch ask you in front of EVERYONE whether or not you need water or if you are ready to pee now. Thanks, by the way, I am four years old and need you to hold the cup to make sure I can aim correctly! Secondly, she is SO impersonal about it! She prepared the cup while talking on the phone with some other bitch (medical clinic gossip) and then brought me to the bathroom, told me to pee then open the door so I could wash my hands. She had to give me special soap to wash my hands with. I really don't get it.
Anyway, I peed up to the line and they didn't even use all the pee. She just poured like half of it into a vile and then made me initial the vile. It was gross. THEN I left, and I really have been wondering all day and night what she did with the rest of my urine. I want it back, bitch.
Okay, next order of business. It's official!!!! I am CPR-Certified! I learned yesterday how to breathe life into a dummy and pump the fuck out of a heart if need be. Although I am pretty certain if anyone was really dying around me, I would pretend I wasn't certified because it all just seems to stressful for me.
In other news, I watched The Exorcist last night with Mallorie. I guess I didn't realize that showing that movie to my 12-year-old sister was a bad idea, but she did pretty well. She really stuck it out and only gasped a little bit when the demon child jabbed a crucifix into her hoo-ha. It was all good family fun. I had to explain to Mal that every good human experiences Exorcist trauma when they are young, and I denied her request to sleep in my room with me that night because she was going to have nightmares.
This weekend I am attending a party in Duluth with Mr. James Hansen and Ms. Stacy Fuelle. It is 1920's themed, and I am strongly considering showing up in blackface (in honor of Obama's nomination, of course). Would that be too offensive or appropriate to the theme? Let me know.
Oh one more thing. I was talking to Barack last night ( you know, Obama), and he told me that he wants to be President only so that he can legalize gay marriage and ask for my hand. That's how in love we are.
Wrap it up,
Matty B.
First of all, WELCOME to my new readers!!!! I have been slutting myself up and down the world trying to get people to read this and it just may have paid off. Also, feel free to comment at any moment!!!!
Now what's new in my life?
Well,
Yesterday I took my drug test for the city of Cottage Grove. I start with the kids on Monday, so I had to go in and piss in a cup first to make sure I wasn't gonna be smoking pot around and/or with the kids (which, let's be honest I am the kids' ONLY connection to the good shit). Anyway, I hate drug tests. Not out of fear of testing positive, but because it is overall just a humiliating and dehumanizing experience. First, you have some bitch ask you in front of EVERYONE whether or not you need water or if you are ready to pee now. Thanks, by the way, I am four years old and need you to hold the cup to make sure I can aim correctly! Secondly, she is SO impersonal about it! She prepared the cup while talking on the phone with some other bitch (medical clinic gossip) and then brought me to the bathroom, told me to pee then open the door so I could wash my hands. She had to give me special soap to wash my hands with. I really don't get it.
Anyway, I peed up to the line and they didn't even use all the pee. She just poured like half of it into a vile and then made me initial the vile. It was gross. THEN I left, and I really have been wondering all day and night what she did with the rest of my urine. I want it back, bitch.
Okay, next order of business. It's official!!!! I am CPR-Certified! I learned yesterday how to breathe life into a dummy and pump the fuck out of a heart if need be. Although I am pretty certain if anyone was really dying around me, I would pretend I wasn't certified because it all just seems to stressful for me.
In other news, I watched The Exorcist last night with Mallorie. I guess I didn't realize that showing that movie to my 12-year-old sister was a bad idea, but she did pretty well. She really stuck it out and only gasped a little bit when the demon child jabbed a crucifix into her hoo-ha. It was all good family fun. I had to explain to Mal that every good human experiences Exorcist trauma when they are young, and I denied her request to sleep in my room with me that night because she was going to have nightmares.
This weekend I am attending a party in Duluth with Mr. James Hansen and Ms. Stacy Fuelle. It is 1920's themed, and I am strongly considering showing up in blackface (in honor of Obama's nomination, of course). Would that be too offensive or appropriate to the theme? Let me know.
Oh one more thing. I was talking to Barack last night ( you know, Obama), and he told me that he wants to be President only so that he can legalize gay marriage and ask for my hand. That's how in love we are.
Wrap it up,
Matty B.
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