Tin Man "Buries Hatchet" with Old High School Bully; Lion Pisses Self
Hey Now,
Caution: While reading this blog, you may want to sit approximately 4 to 5 feet away from your computer monitor soley based on the fact that the blogger is Big Matt. Cases have been documented where the reader has been found impaled in the wall oppossite the computer after unwittingly reading and attempting to comprehend a "big" thought or idea. How can this be? Let's just say that nary a horse is hung like BM in terms of importance, sophistication, and utter dominance of any given situation. So please, unless you want this blog reading experience to get ugly, move your seat back.
I have found that this blog serves little purpose these days based on the fact that everything important or crucial that has been, or is going on, in my life and which I have an opinion about, directly involves acquaintences that may or may not read this blog page. It's not that I have anything bad to say about anyone is particular really; I just do not advocate needless drama. Take for instance two relatively recent dating experiences. 1. I asked out So and So, a very pretty young, devout Christain girl, and So and So and I were at a resturant. The conversation was lively and involved until So and So ordered a burger and it was three times the width of a deck of cards so she complained as to how she was going to eat it. Then, oddly, So and So started staring at the burger like the sesame seeds on the bun began country line dancing...just staring, staring. So I said..."So and So, looking at it won't make it any smaller." Then So and So looked up at me, visibly disturbed, and retorted, "Ah, I'm...praying." So and so and I are no longer in contact. 2. I haven't told my friends this one yet so feel free to ask more about it. Anyway, a while back I asked Whose-a-what who picks up clients at the MR day program I struggle to supervise out on a date. Whose-a-what is a very typical 19 year old girl, but pretty and nice. So Whose-a-what and I are walking at the Waterfront when this camera guy comes out of no where and follows us with his camera. Off course, I stare down its barrel the whole time. Wouldn't you know it, days later there is a news story on tv about the new teenage curphew at the Waterfront and the footage...Whose-a-what and I walking by Dave and Busters. I didn't see this myself, I was told this by a superior at my job. Good stuff, huh?
So, I won't blog about those specific dating experiences and embaress myself. Actually, I treasure stories such as those. Without them the world doesn't go round.
I am here to briefly blog about a man who has been a bedrock in my life, much more than So and So and Whose-a-what, who aren't men at all by the way. Yes, he's the one who was there to celebrate my single-handedly defeating Greater Susquehanna Valley in the Little League District 12 finals, and there to console me when the Challenger blew up, because that's the day my childhood sweetheart moved to Loyalsock Township. That man is Merman, Underwater Overlord and faithful minion to Skelator.
Merman was never much to look at. His body was of the same mold as Stinkor and he had this frozen expression as though he had just witnessed a grisly motorcycle wreck and some inconsiderate asshole slapped him on the back. (remember that wive's tale?) But regardless, he was my buddy. My father (second most nurturing figure in my life, next to Merman) surprised me with the evil sea king one day when he arrived home from work; I was in first grade. Dad promised me action figures if I could manage a C grade in handwriting.
The rest of the story is relatively uneventful, as it follows the same story line as many of today's successful cop buddy movies. There was the day when Merman put out the curtains when I unwittingly set them on fire at Aunt Ester's 89th B-Day party using the same blow torch I refused to wrap-up and give as her gift. Then there was the time when he rescued me after I mangled myself around the top branches of an oak tree after trying out my new catipult, which later won me Boy Scout of the Year honors. Merman, ironicaly, pulled-in second prize with his elaborate weather-altering device, which would have won hands-down had I not bribed the judges with the fashionable cumber buns I had been collecting for years for just such an occassion.
Needless to say, we had some good times and Merman is still with me today. I'm sure the sage with continue.
Ok, that's it. The sad part is that the Merman stuff is mostly untrue and for comedic effect, while the So and So and Whose-a-what dating stories are fact to the most specific details.
Godspeed,
Big Matt
Caution: While reading this blog, you may want to sit approximately 4 to 5 feet away from your computer monitor soley based on the fact that the blogger is Big Matt. Cases have been documented where the reader has been found impaled in the wall oppossite the computer after unwittingly reading and attempting to comprehend a "big" thought or idea. How can this be? Let's just say that nary a horse is hung like BM in terms of importance, sophistication, and utter dominance of any given situation. So please, unless you want this blog reading experience to get ugly, move your seat back.
I have found that this blog serves little purpose these days based on the fact that everything important or crucial that has been, or is going on, in my life and which I have an opinion about, directly involves acquaintences that may or may not read this blog page. It's not that I have anything bad to say about anyone is particular really; I just do not advocate needless drama. Take for instance two relatively recent dating experiences. 1. I asked out So and So, a very pretty young, devout Christain girl, and So and So and I were at a resturant. The conversation was lively and involved until So and So ordered a burger and it was three times the width of a deck of cards so she complained as to how she was going to eat it. Then, oddly, So and So started staring at the burger like the sesame seeds on the bun began country line dancing...just staring, staring. So I said..."So and So, looking at it won't make it any smaller." Then So and So looked up at me, visibly disturbed, and retorted, "Ah, I'm...praying." So and so and I are no longer in contact. 2. I haven't told my friends this one yet so feel free to ask more about it. Anyway, a while back I asked Whose-a-what who picks up clients at the MR day program I struggle to supervise out on a date. Whose-a-what is a very typical 19 year old girl, but pretty and nice. So Whose-a-what and I are walking at the Waterfront when this camera guy comes out of no where and follows us with his camera. Off course, I stare down its barrel the whole time. Wouldn't you know it, days later there is a news story on tv about the new teenage curphew at the Waterfront and the footage...Whose-a-what and I walking by Dave and Busters. I didn't see this myself, I was told this by a superior at my job. Good stuff, huh?
So, I won't blog about those specific dating experiences and embaress myself. Actually, I treasure stories such as those. Without them the world doesn't go round.
I am here to briefly blog about a man who has been a bedrock in my life, much more than So and So and Whose-a-what, who aren't men at all by the way. Yes, he's the one who was there to celebrate my single-handedly defeating Greater Susquehanna Valley in the Little League District 12 finals, and there to console me when the Challenger blew up, because that's the day my childhood sweetheart moved to Loyalsock Township. That man is Merman, Underwater Overlord and faithful minion to Skelator.
Merman was never much to look at. His body was of the same mold as Stinkor and he had this frozen expression as though he had just witnessed a grisly motorcycle wreck and some inconsiderate asshole slapped him on the back. (remember that wive's tale?) But regardless, he was my buddy. My father (second most nurturing figure in my life, next to Merman) surprised me with the evil sea king one day when he arrived home from work; I was in first grade. Dad promised me action figures if I could manage a C grade in handwriting.
The rest of the story is relatively uneventful, as it follows the same story line as many of today's successful cop buddy movies. There was the day when Merman put out the curtains when I unwittingly set them on fire at Aunt Ester's 89th B-Day party using the same blow torch I refused to wrap-up and give as her gift. Then there was the time when he rescued me after I mangled myself around the top branches of an oak tree after trying out my new catipult, which later won me Boy Scout of the Year honors. Merman, ironicaly, pulled-in second prize with his elaborate weather-altering device, which would have won hands-down had I not bribed the judges with the fashionable cumber buns I had been collecting for years for just such an occassion.
Needless to say, we had some good times and Merman is still with me today. I'm sure the sage with continue.
Ok, that's it. The sad part is that the Merman stuff is mostly untrue and for comedic effect, while the So and So and Whose-a-what dating stories are fact to the most specific details.
Godspeed,
Big Matt
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