I Don't Have Enough Middle Fingers For All Of You.

My name is Matt. I'm from Rhode Island. I enjoy blogging and I am an avid farter.

     Jann sent me this to help me out while I’m laid up after my shoulder surgery a couple of weeks ago. It’s a crystal bell. I was under the impression that this bell, when rung, could summon Lisa to the bedroom to see what foods/services I required without requiring me to scream for her. It’s like a Pavlovian Bell except the dogs have it. Anyway, I don’t think it’s working properly because when I ring it Lisa doesn’t bring me food or rub my feet she just yells go fuck yourself from the other room.


     
Jann sent me this to help me out while I’m laid up after my shoulder surgery a couple of weeks ago. It’s a crystal bell. I was under the impression that this bell, when rung, could summon Lisa to the bedroom to see what foods/services I required without requiring me to scream for her. It’s like a Pavlovian Bell except the dogs have it. Anyway, I don’t think it’s working properly because when I ring it Lisa doesn’t bring me food or rub my feet she just yells go fuck yourself from the other room.


Sixteen days since I last went to work. If I spent this kind of time on my real job I’d be running the place.

I was playing Mario Kart


with my son in his room. When I was finished, I walked out into the hallway, and Lisa was playing Mario Kart with her son in his room. The four of us looked like that family in the promotional materials for Nintendo that’s having a super good time video-gaming together. It would have been a good commercial except for right after that happened I ate 40 slices of American cheese over the kitchen sink.


In case anyone is wondering what I’ve been up to for the past ten days.
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Lisa tried to throw this pair of slippers away today and I think I just found the footwear that will be accompanying me on my downward spiral.



Lisa tried to throw this pair of slippers away today and I think I just found the footwear that will be accompanying me on my downward spiral.


The boys


are both huge fans of Minecraft. Apparently when you’re an 8 or 12 year old boy and you love playing Minecraft, one of the worst insults you can hurl at one another is calling the other person a noob. I don’t know if it’s derived from newbie or what, but as soon as I heard it I took a bit of a shine to calling people noobs. Plus, I intentionally use it incorrectly as an adjective to describe them and also as an action verb to describe something that a noob might noob because it irritates them so badly. Then I walk around and tell both kids that they are the noobiest noobs that ever noobed. I even enjoy calling Lisa a noob, although I don’t get the reaction of white-hot rage from her that I get from the children, which makes it much less satisfying. Anyway, yesterday I started singing it along to The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Nooby) and I can’t stop singing it and I think I heard Lisa singing it too. I’ve only been out of work for seven days and shit like this is already happening.

It’s gonna be a long recovery.

For Lisa.

Anyway, have fun at work tomorrow, noobs.


Celebrate International Literacy Day with a poorly written sentence fragment.


Celebrate International Literacy Day with a poorly written sentence fragment.


GPOY.

GPOY.




I got tagged by ficklechick. Nobody ever tags me in anything.What brings you back to the place you grew up? It doesn’t really take much to take me back to the place I grew up, because I can see the bedroom window of my childhood home from where I’m typing this. I live about 150 feet away from the house I grew up in, which is hilarious because I always thought the fix for everything that was wrong with my life was getting out of here. I was wrong. I see my father every day. My son sees his grandfather every day. I can’t think of any place I would be happier living. What outside sports or games did you play with your friends that stayed with you til this day? I’m going to try and say this the nicest way I can: Fuck outside.What smells?  If I could pick any smell from my childhood to carry around with me, it would be my Rawlings Tom Seaver baseball glove right after it got a fresh coat of Neatsfoot oil. I remember jamming a baseball into it and shoving it under my mattress. My whole room smelled like it.What senses? I’m not sure if this qualifies as “senses”, but I’ll take the feeling I get where a hooded sweatshirt and a winter hat is the exact right amount of clothing for a walk through the neighborhood before the sun comes up. When I was young I hated the mornings (although I always had jobs that required early rising). Now, my favorite part of the day is just before dawn, and I see it almost every day.The picture above is from one of my early morning walks. It was taken at Salter’s Grove, an area we always referred to as “The Downs”.


I got tagged by 
ficklechick. Nobody ever tags me in anything.

What brings you back to the place you grew up? It doesn’t really take much to take me back to the place I grew up, because I can see the bedroom window of my childhood home from where I’m typing this. I live about 150 feet away from the house I grew up in, which is hilarious because I always thought the fix for everything that was wrong with my life was getting out of here. I was wrong. I see my father every day. My son sees his grandfather every day. I can’t think of any place I would be happier living. 

What outside sports or games did you play with your friends that stayed with you til this day? I’m going to try and say this the nicest way I can: Fuck outside.

What smells?  If I could pick any smell from my childhood to carry around with me, it would be my Rawlings Tom Seaver baseball glove right after it got a fresh coat of Neatsfoot oil. I remember jamming a baseball into it and shoving it under my mattress. My whole room smelled like it.

What senses? I’m not sure if this qualifies as “senses”, but I’ll take the feeling I get where a hooded sweatshirt and a winter hat is the exact right amount of clothing for a walk through the neighborhood before the sun comes up. When I was young I hated the mornings (although I always had jobs that required early rising). Now, my favorite part of the day is just before dawn, and I see it almost every day.

The picture above is from one of my early morning walks. It was taken at Salter’s Grove, an area we always referred to as “The Downs”.