And no, the massage didn’t come with a “happy ending.” I don’t pay for that which I can get for free.

So, today Meagan coerced me into getting a massage. Not that it took a whole lot of convincing, but that’s besides the point. We went to a place near the condo she’s house-sitting and after this nice little lesbian picked up Meagan for her massage I waited for a few minutes and then got taken to my massage room.

My masseuse touched me in ways that no woman ever has before. And it was great. Unless it hurt, which it did semi-frequently. Also, the exclamation of surprise when she went over my knee wasn’t really what I had expected. But the surprise bone spur probably wasn’t something she expected either, so I’m calling it even between us.

Overall, my first massage was a pretty good experience and I’m wondering what ways I’ll feel completely young and nubile tomorrow. Hopefully I’m more limber. I could stand to impress some boys with my newfound flexibility.

In other news, I’ve been filling my newly purified body with cake and pizza this evening. Take that new age health and wellness.

I just watched a show where a guy was punched in the gut with a salami stick by his girlfriend. I didn’t even laugh. I think this quick example aptly illustrates how Monday is a black void of negativity that comes to all people in day-form.

And then there was a midget wearing a wedding dress. And back hair.

Why, God!? This is the worst day ever …

Since reviving my bloglife, I can’t help but remember how much I love writing about things that have little to no consequence. I mean, I used to do it all the time when I was at Oregon State. Please reference this little gem I wrote with Meagan Williams (Notice how Meagan’s portion of the article garnered all the comments … mostly about how crazies on the internet love JAG just a little too much):

My Part:

http://media.barometer.orst.edu/media/storage/paper854/news/2006/07/19/Forum/The-Ultimate.Showdown.Tv.On.Dvd-2291459.shtml

Meagan’s Part:

http://media.barometer.orst.edu/media/storage/paper854/news/2006/07/19/Forum/The-Ultimate.Showdown.Tv.On.Dvd-2291471.shtml

Anyway, I just love that I can do whatever I want on this blog and no one cares. And if they do care … they can just kindly go screw themselves.

Today’s inconsequential topic will be attractive men. One of my current Hollywood boyfriends is Chris Pine. You may know him from a little movie I like to call Star Trek. My other Hollywood boyfriend is Dustin Lance Black.

Today Perez Hilton let me know that some jerk had leaked nude photos of my boyfriend Dustin. It’s really sad. I only wish I could do something to help him.

And now I have to go pick up my mom from work …

Did you ever have one of those days where you just decided to screw everything and stay in your sweatpants while you alternated watching the Disney Channel and Saved By the Bell episodes that your brother conveniently has on DVD?

No?

Oh … me either.

In other news, that’s exactly what I’m doing and I find it surprisingly refreshing. But too much of a good thing can spoil the beauty of such an act. So, I have decided to institute a once-a-month policy for celebrating my favorite of the Seven Deadly Sins: Sloth.

I need to get one more good Sloth Day in before I head back to Oxford, and what with my ministerial duties getting in the way, I have to pre-schedule this way in advance. Because of this, I thought it would be appropriate to invite others to partake in this most glorious of celebrations.

The second Sloth Day will be held on Thursday, July 16 2009. I’m taking suggestions as to what can be done/eaten on this day as it requires too much work for me on this inaugural Sloth Day.

I look forward to your suggestions. Thank you in advance for helping to streamline my laziness.

So … I have three things to do this summer.

1. Write thank-you letters
2. Perform wedding ceremony
3. Clean out closet

Yesterday, my list became two-thirds complete. I wrote my thank-you letters AND cleaned out my closet. Funny? I thought so.

Anyway … Most of the stuff in my closet was not actually mine. My brother and father have apparently co-opted my room as their personal storage areas. Yay. But that’s besides the point, which is, of course, that I had to fight with my mom to throw away half of the stuff that’s in there.

Did she really think that I wanted to keep my t-ball trophies? Really, mom? Really?

I also found a lot of stuff that reminded me of high school–that four-year span in the middle of the 12 years that was my awkward phase. So, I naturally did what any other self-respecting person would do. I threw all the ‘ish in the trash.

It felt really good. Really good.

Now, if I could only make sure that everyone who knew me in high school could forget those four years, I’d be golden.

Suggestions, anyone?

Dear Old Man wearing suspenders while riding the stationary bike:

I don’t understand how that can possibly be comfortable. Your khaki shorts must be riding up, and while I understand that you don’t want the fabric of your shorts to come into contact with your knee-high athletic socks, I feel as though your methods are somewhat askew.

I know your best friend, the guy who comes in wearing jean shorts and penny loafers, marches to the beat of his own drummer, but perhaps it’s a good idea to go with the majority on this one. Netted shorts allow your body to breathe, cause less discomfort and can be worn multiple days without starting to smell like formaldehyde–then again, maybe you like that kind of thing. I’m not sure.

Either way, I feel that your suspenders are kind of ridiculous. Every time I pass you, I get the urge to snap them … and we all know that’s not nice to do to anyone over 55.

Now, I must be getting back to watching my favorite star of stage and screen: Hannah Montana. Have a nice day and please do take my advice into consideration before dressing to come down to the gym tomorrow.

Sincerely,

Matt

So, I just graduated. I’m back at home for the summer. And I have absolutely nothing to do.

The last few weeks, I’ve just been scouring the internets for recipes that I can modify and make into my own. Seeing as how my parents are footing the bill for this summer, it seems to be the perfect time.

I’ve also decided that since I don’t have anything to do, I might as well impress the 3 of you who actually read this thing by writing in it! 

 

 

That long pause was to wait until you all were able to calm yourself. I know how exciting this announcement can be for some of you.

Anyway, I’m going to the Rose Festival on Saturday. Valerie and I are going to look at all the sailors. Another thing I hope to do this summer is go to Portland Pride, and maybe even the one in Seattle or Vancouver, BC. 

Or maybe I’ll just do a booze run to California. Either way, it should be exciting, no?

Right now, I’m having a sleepover. My friend Mandy (whose name, contrary to what my computer says, is not misspelled) is lying on the couch. We just finished talking about men who trim, shave or otherwise cut their pubes (we thought another good way to phrase that would be to trim their forest). It was a lively debate, but I don’t know if we came to any conclusions about it.

So, obviously, I’m opening up the debate for everyone on the internets. What are your thoughts on manicuring the man forest? Enquiring minds want to know. So do the dirty ones.

Here’s the thing: I don’t like inaction.

I was surfing through some blog posts the other day, because what’s a blogging neophyte supposed to do except look at other people’s blogs and steal ideas? Right?

Right.

Anyway, I came across a blog on gentrification and its effects on the housing markets and differing socioeconomic classes. Blah blah blah. And don’t get me wrong, while I think it’s good that people are actually talking about it, I think that instead of being e-outraged about something, your time would probably be better spent by actually going out and doing something.

And then I read the post’s comments.

And then I realized that people suck.

And then I realized that using an amateur blog for serious purposes is … well, stupid.

And then I got an email from a doctoral student at the University of Michigan who said my team leader for a research project in which I’m participating is Rosie Perez. At which point I fell off my chair because, obviously, my thoughts went straight to that star of stage and screen who we all know and love.

Once I realized that my dreams of actually meeting Rosie Perez were not going to come true, I decided to get out one of her movies and watch it. I think we all know of a little gem called “It Could Happen to You.” Oh, yes.

And that, my friends, is how I deal with the very sensitive issue of gentrification.

So, as is the case with most of my life, I’ve found another trend to follow shamelessly. As it so happens, this means I’ll be writing online. Apparently these “weblogs” are “in” right now. And so is self-indulgence. And if there’s anything I’m good at, it’s indulging myself.

Congratulations, world; you have no idea what you just got.