I’m fancy because I’m wearing a collard shirt under a sweater. But I’m not THAT fancy, as evidenced by my crinkly collar. I should probably iron that, huh?

Let’s not talk about why I’m up so damn early on a Saturday. Let’s talk about my coffee mug.

It says:

RAY
Meaning: Peaceful
When others are stressed
You offer release
Your kind understanding
Gives them inner peace
You’ll intervene in
Matter drastic or trite,
And restore serenity
When there’s a fight.
Because of your calm control
When tempers flare,
You’re respected as valuable,
Precious and rare.

My name is not Ray. My great-grandfather’s name was Ray, though. He died about 10 years ago. This was his mug. I still have it. I drink out of it often. I think about him every time I do.

I voted. It says so on my forehead.

Here we go! Halloween 2k9 is underway. Zombie Billy Mays, ladies and gentlemen.

GPOYW stinkyface bedhead shouldprobablybeworking

*note - my new blog site, mattonfire.net, is up and running. Text blogs will be posted there from now on. Trying to get out of posting text on tumblr. I may just keep it around for pictures and whatnot. But here’s my latest post:*

I’m spending the week in Western New York. Just me. No wife. No dog. No cat. Just me. At my parents’ house.

The reason for the trip is my buddy’s wedding. We already had the bachelor party on Saturday, which consisted of a bunch of men standing around a bonfire drinking beer and complaining about work. Then we merged our get together with the bachelorette party and all hell broke loose. Because you know how guys like to show off in front of girls - especially when there’s a-a-a-a-a-alcohol involved. Do know the most effective way to get a country lady’s attention? Recklessly ride a lawnmower around the yard while wearing a motorcycle helmet, which - in turn - becomes being chased by the lawnmower driven by someone else, until you throw up. Again. No strippers (what!?), but still one of the funniest things I’ve seen in a good long while. I swear - it’s way more redneck in Upstate NY than it is in Virginia.

I hate going out of town without the wife. Yeah, I miss her and all that nonsense, but the real pain in the ass is when she calls me to say there is a problem with our computer. I certainly can’t fix it from here. And I don’t trust my basic troubleshooting knowledge enough to give her instructions over the phone. Long story short - I think the hard drive in our 2 year old iMac is failing (already?!?!). I will cut a bitch if I lose all my work. And my music. And my pictures of cute little animals with funny misspelled phrases. And all my Yo Dawg memes.

I gave her the only instructions I felt confident enough to say: Shut it down and don’t touch it - don’t look at it - don’t even think about it - until I come home. Because that’s how we fix problems in my house.

Wifey: [Calling from the other room] Matt! There’s something wrong with the _____.
Me: [Relaxing my fat ass on the couch] Just press the _______ and make sure the ______ is _______. It should work fine.
Wifey: [2 minutes later] Can you come here, God Dammit! It’s broke!
Me: [Mumbling and grumbling incoherently as I pause How It’s Made, get off the couch and stomp into whatever room she’s in, press a button and stomp back to the couch and unpause my show].
Wifey: You’re so smart! Thanks, honey!

I’m trying to get some writing done while I’m at the ‘rents house, but it sort of feels like I’m doing homework. And Lord knows I didn’t do too much of that while I was in school. I watched a lot of Jerry Springer and ate deli meats. It just feels natural to do that now. Maybe I should hit up a coffee shop, but I forgot the laptop - which is a good thing because The Wife has to use it to make worksheets and pictures of letters or something that get Cheerios pasted onto it.

I may go down to the lake and walk around for a little while. I love the fall and it is in full swing here in the Buffalo region. Multicolored leaves changing and falling. Smells like rotten apples and burning cowpoop. Maybe I’ll put on my Class of ‘96 letterman jacket, hang out in the school parking lot talkin’ ‘bout how I used to be ‘king of this bitch’ and offer to buy beer & smokes for the high schoolers. They’ll think I’m still cool, right?

It’s good to be back home. Wish The Wife was with me. Gotta go. Springer is about to give his final thought and there’s a piece of salami calling my name.

This is how you have a bechelor party in rural Western NY. Believe me, watching a drunk guy ride around on a lawn mower with a motorcycle helmet on is far better than watching a busted WNY stripper dance for meth money.

Here’s a video about Richmond, VA. I don’t know the guys who did it, but it’s really well done. Since RVA has a large online community, I thought it should be shared here on the tumblrs.

Hell yes, I’m ready for some football… right after I finish this popsicle.

The first MMS sent from my iPhone. A historic occasion, indeed. And yeah, mom was right. My face has been stuck that way since I was 7.

Being a super busy, always on the go and devastatingly handsome young professional, *cough*, I tend to overlook the daily nuances and hassles that regular non-busy and non-handsome folks have to think about. Did I feed the cat? Did I put on clean underwear? Did I forget to wash my hair in the shower? When is the last time I changed the furnace filter? Did I leave the dog in the car on a swelteringly hot day for hours and now he’s dead? You know - stuff like that. I chalk it up to my adult-onset ADD and the fact that I lived near Love Canal when I was a baby. True story.

Anywhoosies, there I am, pumping gas into my empty tank (yeah, I tend to forget that automobiles need gas. Luckily, I haven’t run out of gas while driving. Yet.), when I happen to glance at my inspection sticker on the windshield. Two months overdue. Yikes. And with my track record of being pulled over and hassled by The Man, I was lucky to have not yet been given a ticket.

I immediately pulled out the ‘ol iPhone (shameless Apple plug in the hopes that they’ll send me a new MacBook Pro) and began searching through my contacts to find my shop of choice, the Saturn dealership. That’s right. I drive a Saturn Ion. Shut up. I’m a practical man. Leave me alone. It’s a good car. I scheduled the inspection for the following day and - what the hell - let’s throw in an oil change because I’m about 8,000 miles past the recommended service mark.

Feeling like I accomplished a big adult-esque task, I decided I would reward myself by going home and taking a nap. Being responsible is tiring. Fortunately, a fellow gas pumper threw himself in front of my idling Ion before I could speed away. He yelled something about me forgetting to remove the pump from my tank. Oops. Thanks, buddy. Good lookin’ out.

Then next day I woke up extra early to take my babe magnet Ion into the shop. The Saturn dealership shop may be a little more expensive than going to the JoeSchmo auto shops, but they’re quick and have a nice waiting area - complete with pissy coffee and expired pre-packaged muffins. After handing over my keys to Sal (his name is totally Sal), I took my place in the waiting room. I’m sitting in a faux-leather (fancy!) chair across from the TV. Old people, mothers with children and a smelly guy with a big glasses and suspenders abound. Guess I’ll get out my extra-awesome iPhone (wink wink, Apple) and surf the twitterz. Maybe listen to some musiOH CRAP. I forgot my headphones. Well, at least there’s quality morning television programming to watch. Right? Wrong.

Oh, sweet baby Jesus, it’s CBN news. You know, the Pat Robertson show with all the white people and subliminal messages of hate and intolerance? Whatever, I’m not discussing the merits of the show or the batshit craziness of those who watch it in this blog post. To each his own. It’s a free country. Worship as you will. Especially you, smelly fat guy in suspenders and extra large glasses. Matter of fact, why don’t you take this seat RIGHT NEXT TO ME when there are about 15 other available seats which are not right next to me. Good lord, sir. You smell like salami and Aqua Velva. Maybe if I bury my nose in my book I can shield some of the stench froOH CRAP. I left my book in my car, which is now hoisted up on one of those car-hoister thingies. A “Lift”. That’s the word I was looking for there. My car was on the lift.

Well, I’m certainly not going to sit next to Mr. Lunchmeat McAftershave, so I casually do one of those go-stretch-my-legs-oh-hey-look-at-this-thing-over-here-wow-pretty-cool-okay-now-I’ll-sit-somewhere-else. From my new vantage point across the room, I see a good portion of the customers intensely watching the God Hates Obama Show. They’re nodding along to some of the most insane stories, for example, there was a story about injecting God into the G-20 summit and how all the world’s problems would be solved if the crazy Muslims and Jews would embrace Christianity. Simple! Um… that type of attitude may actually be the CAUSE of some of the world’s problems, but whatevs. Again - I’m not talking about it here.

Admiral LargeGlasses SuspenderStink is mumbling. No, wait. He’s praying. Yes, he’s praying. I can tell by how he’s raising his hands toward the TV. Aaaand now he’s kneeling. Eyes closed. Arms raised. Palms open. Mumbling something about “world leaders coming into your light”. Gotta go stretch-my-legs-oh-hey-look-at-this-thing-over-here-wow-pretty-cool-okay-now-I’ll-go-stand-outside.

All this happened in less than 45 minutes. Not bad, eh? You know what? That Saturn dealership is on point! An oil change, inspection and tire rotation in 45 minutes. Free muffins, too! Booyah.

I call this The Harvey Dent™.

One slice of Italian bread with Provolone cheese, Genoa salami, pepperoni and banana peppers on top.

One slice of wheat bread with American cheese, roast beef, turkey and onions on top.

Throw each side in the oven, open-faced. Broil until cheese is melted and pepperoni gets all greasy.

Throw some fresh Romaine on the side with the ‘roni and salami. Apply generous amounts of mustard to the roast beef/turkey side. Lightly drizzle with a small amount of Italian dressing for a little extra zest. At this point, it doesn’t matter which side.

Slap the two sides together. Put one of those Spanish olives on a toothpick and stick in through the top (I didn’t have any, so I skipped this step). Serve with regular potato chips AND Doritos.

I should’ve taken a picture before I ate it, but I forgot. It was that damn good.

My new Trent Edwards Buffalo Bills jersey just arrived (late b-day present). Also, I am a giant dork.