A new record

We just passed the other record for most hits in one day. I guess this many viewers is the new normal.

Please feel free to get funky in the comment section.


And enjoy the picture of the sexy new bike.

The magic beanie

I have a gray beanie I wear in the mornings, even now in Spring, because it controls my hair from having a free and easy life of its own.

This particular beanie is kind of magic, not just because it has the power of control, but it also led the an unbelievable series of events that introduced me to how devious and scary some people can be.

Then, after showing me the bad in some men, it has only shown me how great life can be. I trust in the beanie and for the most part, the beanie has been great for me. It is a great year and the beanie has been the anchor that allows me to sail.

So I was just out run/walking across the entire downtown core, oh wait, tangent time.

I am strong and nimble right now, or as strong and nimble as someone in my "condition" can be, that is, someone who spends an equal amount of time working out and throwing up, so in some ways, I am a anorexic athlete. Now, if you turn me lose to walk fast around a city, there really is no slowing me down, except today.

If you have ever been to a horse race you know that the strongest, fittest, most likely to kick ass horse always gets some extra weight added, which I am not quite sure why, except to maybe level the playing field, as it were.

So there I was, wearing a back pack, as I pranced around downtown, darting in between slow moving obese people and hacking smokers, trying my hardest to race through the city. I was carrying a backpack with about 20 pounds of documents for work. All of a sudden I realized what race horses must get as they round the final turn headed for the finish line, that it is bullshit to have to carry all that extra weight.

I made it back to my office drenched in sweat.

So, while out doing my deliveries, I had my magic beanie, at first wearing it, but then as I started to get over heated, I put it in my pocket. Now, keep in mind, this beanie is more responsible for dumping my fiance than anything else, so it has some sort of power and I like that about it. It is a magic honest beanie, you can not deceive it, charm it or do anything that it will not hold against you. Power magic beanie, away.

I called my dear friend in Seattle and we shared some thoughts about race relations in America and the decline of network television, or something like that, and I was sitting in my buildings lobby and I realized, my beanie was gone. Frantic I jumped up and began to retrace my steps. As the door opened to the outside a large man with a bald head and a smile stood, holding my magic beanie and said, I figured you'd come looking for it.

Magic Beanie, your power astounds me.

They might be Giants

As you know, I was in San Francisco yesterday and everywhere I went, seriously, everywhere I went, this video was blaring. I even ended up dancing on Polk Street.

Smoking

This just in:

NEW YORK – A New Jersey woman was stabbed in the face with a pen on a New York City subway train after she tried to stop a man from lighting a cigarette.

The assault occurred on a crowded No. 3 train near the Chambers Street station during Tuesday's morning rush.

Witnesses told the Daily News and the New York Post that an argument quickly escalated when Evelyn Seeger asked the man not to smoke. The witnesses say two riders were trying to restrain the man when he pulled out a pen and slashed Seeger's face.

Seeger, of Nutley, N.J., was treated at a hospital and released.

Police charged the man with felony assault and criminal possession of a weapon.

Letters, more and more letters

Matt, I have an itch I can't scratch.

Sadly, more and more people write to me with that exact issue.

Matt, there once was a man from Nantucket.

That much is clear.

Hi, I have a question for you. When my husband and I are engaged in sex, sometimes he has a very angry expression on his face. He says he is not mad, but sometimes it is intense and scary. What is going on?

For whatever reason your husband is disgusting and makes me sick.

Matt-I work at a zoo. Recently one of the giraffes, a male, has started to crane his neck and put his nose in a female giraffes private area and he waits and then she pees on his face. I talked to one of the staff zoologists who said this is part of their natural breeding ritual, but for me, it's disgusting. What is your take on this?

While disgusting, it is also natural and to be honest, from what I hear from the Water Sports animals I know, kind of fun. Plus, this is the exact same technique I used to know when it was time to make a baby. How else would you know?

Mat (one T is sexy) - Can you please edit your comment section. A couple of times I have found myself reading them and then someone posts something obscene or unnatural and it traumatizes me. Please, just edit them.

No. Well, first, point me in the direction of the nasty and obscene ones. Then, no, I don't edit comments. Unless they are mean towards me, cause I am shallow that way.

Hi, any suggestions on a good place for a Lent dinner?

Seriously? Are you serious?

Matt- Much more Houdini. Anyone who calls you at 2AM and bothers you has got to be worth a few more posts. Can you call him and just write what you talk about? The post with Houdini is by far my favorite and I think I have read all your blog posts. More please.

Yes, I am interviewing Houdini on almost a daily basis. Soon enough he will be the sole focus of this blog. Just you wait and see.

Matt - What's the story with weddings?

Here is something I have witnessed a few times, the first time it was funny, but now, it makes me mad. OK, so the best man stands up to give a speech and he pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and begins to read, "so and so is a great man, a man who gives money to charity, a man who cares about his community, a man who loves deeply and is loved and a man with an extra long (looking at the groom), whats this word, I can't reading your writing."
See, it's funny, but only one time in a lifetime. Then it is moronic. So, best men out there, cut it out. If I see this stunt one more time, I am going to lose it.

None

I was walking briskly through the city this morning, delivering a package and searching for a muffin, which is not a metaphor for anything. So, there I was, waiting for a light to turn green on a busy city street and up ahead of me, on the opposite block I see a fast walking woman in a black dress. I thank to myself, hello fast walking woman, I will soon pass you.

There you have insight into my competitive nature. Inside my head I am competing all the time, whether with myself and some goal I set or, like the woman in the black dress, an innocent person doing the same thing I am doing, but I must will myself to catch and pass.

In fact, a few years ago when I had the time to ride a cycle seriously, I would spot a fellow cyclist somewhere ahead of me and make it my goal to catch and release. That is what I called it, first catch them, pass them and forget them. There was nothing they were aware of, all I was to them was a sweaty guy riding past. It is traditional to say "left" as you pass a cyclist, let them know you are there or something, but not for me. I liked to overtake them stealthily, just pump my legs hard in a low hear and pass them without so much as a word.

Once or twice I was scolded for shocking them, but once or twice I was also trailed by the person I passed, they falling in behind me, letting me lead the way and they could get a good workout that way. Not to worry, people passed me too, although as I got stronger and healthier that happened less and less, but when I was passed I too would pick up my pace and ride with them.

There is always a superior athlete, that is just the way the world works. At some point, back in those days of daily long hard rides, there was a kid who was training for some sort of professional career as a cyclist. Some mornings I would see him far ahead of me and set catching and passing him as my goal. I may have been able to catch him once or twice, but that was either because he was just doing a relaxed ride, or he was on the phone or something. He was an animal on a cycle, no pain and all endurance. It was a good goal to try and catch him and sometimes he would let me ride with him, I think, just to let me know who was king of the cycle.

This morning, waiting for that light to turn green, I kept my eye on the woman in the black dress. She was moving quickly, but I knew, given a green light and a parting of the people crowding the street, I could catch her within a block.

The light flickered green and I stepped off the curb with power. My strides quickly accelerating and I was on a fast pace. People in this city seem to dawdle and walk slowly, not sure why. I weaved and moved between slow moving pedestrians and spotted the woman in the black dress, now a city block ahead and pulling away. Because I had to walk the length of the city, I figured either I would catch her within a couple of blocks or she might even get to her destination before I had a chance.

Then she got held up by a red light. I saw it change and I noticed her slowing. I would not catch her with my speed, but with the stupid traffic signals. Either way, I saw my opportunity, pushed myself into a faster walking gear and sped up to catch and release mode. If I planned this right, just as the light was changing I would be by her side, in step and moving away. It was going to be a perfect moment.

But the light held. I slowed and it was still red and there was now gridlock blocking the crosswalk. I sauntered up to the fast walking woman in the black dress. I stood next to her for a second, turning my head, taking her in. She was older, much older, pasty white skin and wrinkles upon wrinkles. She looked forward for a bit, then she turned her head to catch my gaze. She had crystal clear blue eyes that seemed to smile. I acknowledged the sly look in her eyes and said "good morning sister." She smiled a bit, nodded and said good morning to me, the light turned and she was off.

She was going to beat me through the traffic and onto the sidewalk, disappearing into a crowd of people. I was slowed by a car in the crosswalk. She had sized me up and took off like a firecracker. A nun with endurance. I admired her as I saw her weaving fast through the crowds. Someday I hope to be old, wrinkled, pasty white and kicking ass as I compete on my own level, in my own head with people who may not may not even know it.

Four letter word

It does not take a rocket scientist to understand that I am a basic man, nothing special here, just move on. I do not consider myself super special. I know very little about the religion I feel closest to. I have only had unsuccessful relationships with brutal and dishonest people. I have wasted money on terrible and wasteful concepts. I have a dog, but she disrespects me. I am a regular man.

Except for one thing. For whatever reason, people like to tell me things that often times make me sad.

I was setting up my camera and some microphones for work today. A nice conference room in a modern building. On days like this, I am always the first person there and almost always the last to leave, it is how I am. So, alone, I was setting things up and this beautiful woman appears in the doorway. She asks who I am, I tell her, she says she has the right room and comes in and starts to set up her own stuff. We are both early.

She is stunning. Naturally beautiful and aging incredibly well. I am really just minding my own business and out of the blue she asks if she can talk with me.

Now, this is a completely professional environment. A professional office building, with professional people in professional offices. I was wearing a suit, a white shirt and tie. It would be hard not to think of me as a professional.

Of course, I answered, without regard to any sort of doors (trap or otherwise) that could be opening.

"I just found out last night that my daughter was raped."

She began to cry.

"I promised not to tell my ex-husband or any other family members."

She really started to cry.

"I don't know what to do. What to say. I don't know anything."

I was at a loss. Personally, and I told her this later, I feel rapists should be dragged out of their dorm rooms, or crack dens, or office parks, and shot. That is true, it is how I think of these people. I thought this many years before I had daughters, but once I had daughters, I knew that would be the only option available for rapists if I was ever named king.

She told me what happened. Daughter is a freshman, got drunk, ended up in a room. Now, anyone in college has probably been in some sort of similar situation. Here is my attitude, if you are a man and can not seduce a college student without getting them so black out drunk they can't recognize you in a line up, then first off you should not be having sex with drunk girls and second, you should be dragged from your dorm room and shot.

Oh, I know, she got drunk, so in some way, she got what she deserved, at least that is probably the mantra of college boys around the world. See, god did something amazing to men. If men get black out drunk, they can't perform sexually. Now, god may have done the same for women, but for rapists, that impediment does not come into play.

So I tried to lend a helping ear to this woman who was so obviously overwhelmed with pain and frustration. There was not much I could say. College students do stupid things? Could I say that? I could have told her that I know women who have been sexually assaulted and some are damaged for life. I should have told her that she should leave and go pick up her daughter and take her home and let he be alone for a few months.

Instead, I just listened. When there was a pause, I tried to explain that her daughter should be able to get as drunk as she wants without the threat of sexual assault. I think people should get drunk, or high, especially in college, but that does not open a door to rape. Guys should get drunk too, say stupid thinks, pull stunts that they will have to pay for, like painting obscene words on the administration building walls. What guys should never do is take advantage of a drunken woman.

Yet, this mother, this wonderful woman, this person showing up to do her job, is burdened with the thought that after successfully getting her daughter to the edge of adulthood, must now help her daughter hold it together after an unimaginable assault.

The way my job works is that I am almost always the first person in the room and almost always the last to leave. At the end of the day, as the crowd of people had left, it was me and the mother, alone again. She was packing up her stuff, I was packing mine. As she was preparing to leave she said she wanted to thank me for listening. I looked at her, a tear coming to my eye, gently rolling down my cheek, and I said, "I am the father of two young women and your daughter has survived my greatest fear. My heart goes out to you."

We hugged, she cried. Then she left. Walking down a long hallway in a professional office building, surrounded by professional people, doing their jobs.