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Archive for April, 2005

April 28th, 2005 1 comment

I was unaware of this yesterday, or it would have been posted with the other URLs. I don’t really have words to describe it, so I’ll just bring you: Great. White. Hype.

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April 27th, 2005 No comments

You may have noticed the lack of a post yesterday; this was on purpose, because I wanted to leave Monday’s post up as long as possible. The basic reasoning was that it was hilarious, and I wanted to make sure everybody saw it, since it got put up so late.

If you didn’t find it hilarious, you need to slap yourself about the face, or perhaps rub butter on your chin and attempt to kiss a chicken. It was the bomb. Learn to accept it.

Today is a kind of linky day, true blog style. I think it’s a good idea to share the brilliance of my fellow web-dwellers.

  • Achewood.com – I dream like this a lot, too. Although the food isn’t necessarily doing a jig, as much as it’s trying to escape my gaping maw. But the general theme is the same.
  • WMTW.com – Maine is a strange, strange place. I recommend it. Although I don’t recommend sleeping with anyone while you’re there.
  • Stuff – OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW. ow.
  • jellyslab.com, via slashdot – Are you geek enough to understand this? Sadly, I was. Very much so.
  • Yahoo.com – Mmmm…nothing like the flavor of throwing up in your own mouth to improve your afternoon markedly. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t mind living in Phuket.
  • Yahoo.com again – Bangladesh doesn’t play around anymore. Seriously. You think this is bad, try buying crack from a policeman over there.

Now try to stay out of trouble, you crazy kids, until tomorrow. I’m not holding my breath for you.

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April 25th, 2005 No comments

Many of you have been contacting me to ask, “Hey Matt, I also would like to wear my collar in the popped style that is so popular with the young kids these days. My problem is, it makes me a little nervous, and I’m wondering if there are situations in which the popped collar might not be appropriate. I work in a conservative environment, you see.”

Good news, folks: the popped collar is appropriate for almost any situation you can think of. Some of the few exceptions include, of course, funerals:

And it goes without saying that the other attendees at any Papal funeral would probably frown on you a bit:

You might not think that going to work with your collar stylishly popped would be a good idea, but then you’d be wrong. Here you can see me in a meeting with my managers, collar higher than a pothead’s ears:

If you work in a more technical environment, such as, say, space shuttle commander, you’ll find the popped collar particularly appropriate:

Even better, the popped collar is hell of proper to display at any formal event, such as your senior prom:

And is even a nice idea for any pool party:

Last but not least, it goes without saying that the popped collar is an absolute requirement whenever you find yourself playing the role of Peter Allen in “The Boy From Oz:”

In conclusion: always keep that collar popped, and watch as your peers and colleagues look at you in wonder and awe renewed.

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April 21st, 2005 No comments

I’ve been spending all day working on this, so you better freakin’ enjoy it.

In honor of Kyle and Kristy’s impending nuptials, I give you:

Kristy’s New Boyfriend

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April 20th, 2005 1 comment

I have decided that I start WAAAAAAAAY too many posts with the word “So,” as in, “So I was throwing up in a bus station bathroom” or “So the new Pope came out of the closet” or “So tell me baby, what’s your sign?” I can’t say for certain why it might be that I do this, but were I to hazard a guess, I would probably say that it’s because I am an untrained amateur with all the writing skill of a rotting mollusk.

You’d think, after something like 4 years of having this website and over 200 posts, I’d get a little better at writing, but the truth is this: I’m not so good at learning. I’m also particularly bad at holding the attention of readers, which is why my webserver stats have been dipping ominously since my peak in January. For example: earlier I spent roughly 40 minutes writing a lengthy rant about why I hate carpeting. Seriously. I don’t use titles on matthearn.com, but after I’d written three paragraphs or so, I sat here wondering exactly what I would title such a momentous piece of prose. “Carpet: The Plush Killer?” “Dupont Fibers of EXTREME PREJUDICE?” “Delawarean Writes 200th Straight Piece of Boring Dreck?”

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not planning to stop posting, or anything. I’m just wondering if I might need to come up with some better things to write about than looking around my cubicle for inspiration. So I’m hoping I can spend some time over the next few weeks coming up with some new online fun, such as new caption’d picture galleries and stuff, since that seems to get the biggest response from my mildly disabled readership. Expect changes around here, dammit, BIG CHANGES.

I’ve promised that before, you say? I have two responses:

  1. Shut up. Jerk.
  2. I’m not playing around this time. To be honest, I wasn’t playing around last time, I just never got the chance to do the stuff I wanted. This time: I will get that chance. Hopefully starting later this week, depending on my availability over the next few days.

So you better be prepared, fools, because the entertainment is just beginning! WATCH FOR THE APOCALYPSE! OR I WILL CUT YOU!

Sorry, I got out of hand there. It won’t happen again. (Or will it. Cut.)

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April 19th, 2005 No comments

So it looks like the Catholics have gotten themselves a new pope! Good times for all! I’m hoping he takes a totally righteous name when he signs up, ’cause Lord knows there are some bitchin’ Saints out there who need to have a pope named after them:

  • Saint Birrstan – Pope Birrstan I just has a ring to it, doesn’t it?
  • Saint Alexander Nevsky – Patron Saint of Going Buck Wild On Teutons With A Big Axe Or Sword
  • Saint Winebald – I dunno what he’s a patron saint of, but I can only assume it involves Homer Simpson.
  • Saint Sean John – Patron Saint of Da Bling aka Da Blizing

Not to mention all the righteous GIRL saints who probably won’t get no papal luv:

  • Saint Isadore of Seville – Proposed Patron Saint of Internet Users (seriously)
  • Saint Isadora of Duncan – Patron Saint of people who get their scarves caught in the spokes of a sportscar and snap their necks (somewhat less seriously)

No word on who the new pope actually is, but I’m hoping he’s Irish. I can’t imagine anything more awesome than having the pope roll up in Boston in a few years and getting hammered on Harp and then getting in a soccer hooligan brawl. Can you imagine? His little papal toque floating above the fray, him all casting death electric jaunpiece out of his fingertips like Emperor Palpatine, and then when his posse tries to escort him out, he pulls the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch from under his robes and tosses it among the fisticuffs, sending bleeding bodies flying through the air like it was Belfast 1983 or something.

Just awesome.

Sadly, it’ll probably be some Italian guy, and he’ll probably be Pope Clement XVI or some such crap, so my hopes of a Throwdown of Infallibility would come to naught. A man can dream, however.

Except that my dreams usually involve Eliza Dushku and a fraternity paddle. I think I need serious medical attention.

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April 18th, 2005 No comments

So the blogging idea for Thursday panned out pretty poorly, and my plan to get pictures posted on Friday worked out about as well. I’m sure you were all disappointed, which kinda sucks for you, but luckily I’m used to it, having disappointed my wife in every conceivable way for nearly 5 years now. So hurl your taunts and spray your wrath like me when I eat rare beef; I shall survive. My skin is thick. (It’s caused by a weird virus that requires me exfoliate with a blowtorch and a rasp every weekend.)

Anyway, the goings on this weekend were extreme. Kyle’s bachelor party was a great success, starting with the Phils beating the Braves 2-1 while we watched, and finishing when one by one the party-goers started passing out in pools of their own fluids on my floor. I won’t go into very specific details about some of the things that happened, to spare the childish naivete of my readership, but here are a few highlights:

  • Several hours of poker ended with me in the lead, but Kyle and Jeff continually biting into my massive stash of chips via beating me in close hands. At least 3 hands in a row, I called somebody’s all-in with something like “two pair aces and sixes” only to be beaten by triple-sixes or something. It was very frustrating. But then we gave up on the game to eat, and also because someone may have discovered some adult video entertainment on a computer owned by some unknown personage. I certainly have no idea what it was doing in MY home. I blame Jared.
  • Somehow, 12 guys managed to go through 2 cases of beer. This doesn’t seem that impressive, until you realize that
    1. Only 10 of them were drinking
    2. They also managed to down something like 40 jello shots
    3. Nobody died
  • I made a birthday cake for Brian that featured dirty words on it that would be immoral of me to post, however it is worth noting that many of them were correctly spelt.
  • Someone managed to break the toilet downstairs, so we announced to the party that the downstairs bathroom was closed to all traffic. Craig was unaware of this, somehow, and decided to drop a Diesel Double Deuce in there, so I had to go in, take the top off the john, and manually lift the valve to permit Craig’s stankass nastiness to go the way of all turds. Wait . . . that’s not a highlight. That’s a horrible, horrible lowlight. I can still smell it . . . and I just threw up in my mouth.

Thanks for the shindig go out to:

  • Rece, who came over to help set up and clean and keep us fat and happy and full of tasty, tasty beers.
  • Craig, for arranging for the Phillies tickets.
  • The Phillies, for not losing.
  • Everybody that came, for not throwing up in my guest bed.
  • She-ra (HW), for setting everything up. She hath done hell of grood jorb. GROOD JORBBBBBB!

Also, I had Brandywiners auditions yesterday, and they went reasonably well, considering to be honest, the part I want has some high notes that I cannot technically hit. Also, in case you needed the reminder, I am not what one would term a strong actor. I’m about on par with Keanu Reeves, but without all the consistency. Also the part in question requires me to be in spectularly fit condition, and while I’m in better shape than I’ve been since high school, I do not exactly have a set of admirable abs. So we’ll see what happens. I’ll keep you updated.

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April 14th, 2005 No comments

So it’s been four hours, and nothing has leapt into my miniature little brain. Seriously, I’m looking around my cubicle for things to write about, and if I don’t come up with anything better by 5pm, there’s a good chance you’ll see a post on any of the following topics:


Inspirational, ain’t it?
  • Why I Still Have A Santa Claus Hat Atop My Computer Monitor, It Being Nearly 4 Months After Christmas (Or 8 Months Before, Depending On How You Look At It)
  • A Comparison Of The Takeout Menus Of C.R. Wings And The Cleveland Avenue Sub Shop
  • I Have A CD On My Desk From A Band Named “Snacks.” I Feel That Snacks Is A Particularly Boring Name For A Band. Discuss. Also Suggest Alternate Crappy Names, Such As “Pretzel” Or Perhaps “The Donut Projekt”
  • Why Am I Not Any More Productive Despite Having Two Functional And Two Broken Computers In My Cubicle?
  • Why Do People I Don’t Know Keep Walking By My Cubicle With Clipboards? Are They Noting Who’s Actually Working And Who’s Pretending To Work While Updating His Website? Do I Really Care?
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April 14th, 2005 No comments

So I was hoping to have pictures of Old New Castle from the weekend, but I just haven’t had time to take care of that. Tomorrow I’m taking the day off from work to prepare for Kyrone’s bachelor party, so hopefully I’ll be able to sneak in an hour to upload and edit some photoz for all-a-y’all.

Basically what this means is, I got nothing. So I’m thinking it may be time to go Tru-Blogggg-Stizyle, meaning I plan to post some random things throughout the day, as they come to me. Keep an eye on this space, yo. Great things are coming your way.

Just not at the moment, ’cause honestly I can’t think of anything all that entertaining. Your best bet is to head over to Jimmy the Profound’s Place, and tell him I sent ya. (He doesn’t know me or anything, but it never hurts to be nice. And don’t actually call him Jimmy or they’ll never find your body. He’s weird like that.)

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April 13th, 2005 No comments

Oh, oh, baby, here comes my random jams, pay attention or you’ll miss it, I like ham:

  • I recently bought a suit from this man:

    Calvin Klein
    , maker of fine underwear
    Is it normal that I am now terrified of what I am becoming?
  • So on Tuesday I went to Hollywood Tan and got one of them thar “spray-on” tans that doesn’t involve scorching the skin. So far, so good, I seem to be extra pretty as a result. But it occurred to me; is there anything more silly than actually getting into a true tanning bed, with the harsh lights and whatnot? I shouldn’t really bring it up, because I’ve been guilty of it myself, but it seems to me you’re paying $5-15 a session for something you could get from the sun for free. It also strikes me as truly bizarre that every morning, I put on a face moisturizer that includes a sunscreen of SPF 45, and yet I have laid under tanning lights for as long as 15 minutes and burned myself red.

    The only thing I can think of that’s similar is the concept of an “oxygen bar.” Paying for air isn’t much better than paying for sun.

    (BTW: If you’re considering a spray-on tan, I should warn you off. I can’t recommend it; I’m hell of blotchy. After you get sprayed, you’re supposed to rub the stuff in all over your skin. Unfortunately, I apparently missed a spot or 12, so there are random patches of darkness interspersed with disturbing paleness. I look like a burn victim that got some of my skin grafts from Dikembe Mutumbo, and the rest from Powder. Worst of all, I couldn’t reach my back to rub it in, so now it’s covered in bizarre, massive freckles. Bad times. I think I’ll go back to just accidentally scorching my skin while riding my bike.)

  • After work on Monday I went for a bike ride with my comrade Shady in White Clay Creek State Park. It was, how you say, FRICKIN’ AWESOME. Ripping down trails, grudgingly climbing back up them, almost crushing my cojones on big rocks, nearly wiping out two or three times but saving it at the last minute through sheer badassocity; I enjoyed it greatly. It was a way better workout than just riding on flat ground around my neighborhood. This afternoon after work I plan to find a few more trails in a different area of the park and see what kind of harm I can come to there.

    Of course, I’ve also had to invest in all kinds of righteous equipment for the bike. Helmet, pump, water bottle, mirror, gloves, small storage bag for under the seat, everything. Yesterday I picked up a little speedometer that I want to install soon; yesterday we were flying down a hill on Paper Mill Road and I became curious to know exactly how fast I was going. Plus I think I’d rather enjoy knowing how far I ride when I go out.

    In other words, I’m a super, super-ultra-dork. But you knew that anyway.

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