Matt's Blogs From The Past...More To Come!

Wal-Wench.

This joint is about my last trip to Wal-Mart.
Here is the break down. I had just come back from the ATL and I had been whipped in golf. Anyone who knows me knows that it is not my favorite thing to lose. I had been up since 6:30 for an early round. I had not eaten anything, but a biscuit that morning at 7:13.
So it is now 5:15 and we walk into my favorite White Trash Trap (Wal-Mart) and pick out a third kind of cheese for a wine party (more like a gala) that night around 7. I don't freakin’ eat cheese, so don't get on me about picking out Pepper Jack Cheese. I took it to the checkout and wanted to get out of the place.
Next let me say two things: I had a little scruff from being lazy and not shaving and also I have a cordial relationship with one of the Wal-Mart employees and she happens to be the lady that was going to check us out. Oh and she typically doesn't wear glasses, which she was this day.
Now let's get down to the controversy and outrage.
As the wife and I approached the 10 items or less checkout I was greeted with a smile and "I have not seen you in a while." So we start off well. Next she is zipping the products across the "LAZER." All of a sudden she stops and says in a skeptic and cynical tone, "who gets Pepper Jack?" I was taken aback by this. I honestly didn't know. I responded that I didn't eat cheese and that is when it became a tag team. Jess joined in and said “that is what I told him. NO one get's that cheese.” Son-of-a!
She is a Wal-Mart employee and she sells items. She did not do her job right. Next she smelled me doubting myself like a shark smelling chum in the water. She struck again like an unrelenting cobra snake. "What is this?" As she rubbed her face referencing my sly beard. I was caught off guard and lashed out like Harry after being hit with a stun spell from Malfoy.
"What are thheeeessssseeeee" as I held up my hands and fingers upside down on my face imitating her ridiculous glasses. I swiped my debit card and walked out of Wal-Mart bloodied and hurt after this fearsome dual.
So all you haters out there that think that I was mistreated and deserve a complete apology from the Wal-Wench give me a shout. It is business time!




The Squirrel, Freud and Ashton Kutcher

The title kind of sounds like the last installment of the Narnia books.
I had to let this one breathe for a while, before I could put this painful memory on paper. I was going to drive some golf balls one day during another of my extended lunch breaks when all of a sudden a squirrel happened across my path. As fate would have it I was in the Pathfinder and decided since I was in such a large vehicle to stay the course. It is advised to just stay in your lane and hopefully the creature will get the heck out of dodge. Unfortunately for both of us, Skippy got his legs run over. It looked like a miner who got his legs trapped under a bolder and was desperately grabbing for an invisible bolder release about 3 ft. out of grasp. So I turned around to finish the dirty job and started apologizing to the squirrel in my empty car. Crunch. It was over.
Alright I hear what you are asking me, what do Freud and Ashton Kutcher have to do with this story. Dang you people, let me finish my story.
Two nights later after a late snack I settled to bed with the wife and melted into dreamland. Ashton Kutcher was playing the part of the last human on Earth. Everyone had been killed off or disappeared; I am fuzzy on the details. Ashton however was now having problems breaking down food with a bum digestive tract. So no matter what he would eat it would give him no nourishment. He came across a squirrel and thought that he might be alive for one more day if he could just get it down for some life saving nutrients. Well it didn't work.
This is where the dream became crystal clear and unbearably vivid. He shat out the squirrel whole and barely alive. Just long enough to look me right in the eyes and say in a human/squirrel voice....."I hate you......"
And I woke up in a cold sweat as I yelled NOOOOOO at the top of my lungs waking my wife.
The question that I pose is this, Why did the squirrel come back to torture me? Should I have taken the chance of rolling my murdered-out SUV or stayed the course like a defiant George Bush in Iraq? What would Freud say? Unhealthy attachment to my mother? Maybe.