What are Gators?

I have no idea what "gators" are or why they attract dogs.



This guy will slap you across the face with a $100 bill.

"Okay..Here..it goes."

For Earth Day: A simple question in Fifth Grade Science

I (Matt) was listening to a story on the radio about an organization called Teach America. This organization recruits the highest achieving college graduates to teach in the most "in need" or lowest-performing school districts throughout the country. Think of it as a Peace Corps for the United States. The organization's success is a result of psychology. In order to recruit candidates, the requirements are extremely rigid. By making it extremely difficult to be accepted into the program, it establishes a need on behalf of Ivy League graduates:

"At Yale, no fewer than 12 percent of the graduating seniors--nearly 1 out of every 8--applied..... Altogether, over 17,000 seniors applied for 2,100 openings."

So, why do I write about this organization? I mention it because the radio piece reminded me of a funny (now it is) experience I had while in elementary school. I have no idea why it popped in my head today but it did. It was the first day of school during my fifth grade Science Class. The teacher, Mr. Doherty, sought to establish rapport with the students. After learning student names, he introduced fifth grade Science by asking questions. His first question seemed quite simple. Well, at least to me:

Can anybody tell me what the Earth is made of?

In a millisecond, my mind darted to my own 10-year old boy resume. I had much experience with the Earth. I dug it. No really, I mean I actually dug holes in the ground all the time. I dug them in the woods, next to streams, in the garden...everywhere. For whatever reason, this kid job gave me pleasure. After I dug a hole, I would always fill it back up again. Filling up a hole you just dug was just part of the kid handbook..instinctual. It's like a dog covering up a freshly made turd.

I was the first in the class to raise a hand. Not the smart kid or the smart-assed kid, but me.

Yes, Mr. Rogers, what is the Earth made of?

I felt elated with my hand up. It was a sign of victory. The benevolent gesture of a fatherly dictator or the risen hand on a statue of a venerated military General from long ago.

Mr. Rogers, what is the Earth made of????

I almost yelled out the answer:

DIRT! IT'S MADE of DIRT!

During the next few moments, time slowed down. The class roared with deafening laughter. It was like a movie where they play human voices in slow motion which lowers them ten octaves and each utterance is exponentially longer. I was puzzled by this. Even through the laughter I could not understand how or why this would seem like a dumb answer. I knew dirt. I knew the Earth.

Mr. Doherty obviously saw the confusion in my face and made an attempt to relieve me by saying that yes, dirt is part of what makes the earth, in addition to elements or magma or some other ridiculousness. Though stunned, some part of me refused to concede. I think this was the last time I was ever the first kid in class to raise a hand.

As I now look at the world through the eyes of an adult, things are much more simple. This is so because the majority of what people say is bulls**t. It's like a different language where most words mean nothing. Since there is so much of this, a truthful response is rare. I don't say this with cynicism or bitterness or frustration. In fact, I am now pleased with my fifth grade self. Why? Because the Earth is made of glorious DIRT.

Australians

Zany Australians!

I laughed at this.

I logged into hotmail today

And I saw something familiar with the landing page, after you type in your user name and password.



Or is it a hybrid of James Garner and a Back Street Boy?

Sports

When I (Matt) was younger, I played Sports. Baseball, Lacrosse, Hockey, and Football. The Sport I was best at was Hockey though I never had intentions of hoisting up a Stanley Cup. I favored Hockey because when you were not practicing or playing a game, there were never expectations to be serious unless it was five minutes before the game began or you were in a timeout. Essentially, you could spend your off time making fun of your teammates.

On a road trip for my College Hockey Team, I drove down to Blacksburg Virginia with the Team Captain. I had to pee REAL bad while we rolled down the highway. The Captain refused to stop, handed me a bottle, and told me I would have to do my business in mid-drive. After I realized there would be no way that he'd stop, I reluctantly took the bottle, put my knees on the passenger seat (facing the wrong way), propped myself up so high in the car that my head was bent under the car ceiling, and began to try to..relax..to do my business. I quickly understood why this guy refused to stop at a highway rest stop. Every time I began, he would slow down the car so it was parallel to the closest car in the next lane. Imagine you are driving down the highway, a car pulls up next to you, and you see a kid with an embarrassed expression, propped up in the car, facing the wrong way, trying to pee in a bottle. This went on for about ten minutes. Though I was frustrated and embarrassed, I could not help but laugh at his creativity. This was Hockey.

Football, on the other hand, was serious. Before a high school football game, you'd have to arrive at least two hours before it began. Would you spend most of this time discussing plays? No. You had to sit in a corner and think about the game. For an hour and a half at least you would have sit in complete silence. While the most intense players would sit in a corner staring at the wall, I would try to stare at the wall. Instead of visualizing the big block or touchdown, I visualized--a wall. After about 30 seconds I would become bored. About a minute later, I would become very bored. I then began to fill this time by being a goof ball. I would talk like an old lady or, with a straight face, begin to put on my football pants as if they were a football jersey. Needless to say, I wasn't the Captain of the Football team, nor the most popular.

The reason I recall sports today is because of the video below, which my brother sent me. If you care to watch this high school football coach, you'll see the coach is half crazy. The video gets nuttier as it progresses. It speaks for itself. I don't believe it is bad or good. It is what it is. I could describe my high school football coach, but I don't really like to be negative (at least here). He was probably a good coach. The problem was that I just didn't belong in football.

So, do I have a point? Yes. I could never take Sport too seriously because it was not real. Did I want to win? Did I try to win? Of course, but there was always something in the back of my mind that pestered me..it's a game. A diversion. Life, on the other hand, is different. Life is serious (as opposed to football), especially when you get older. I can spend two hours in serious thought, staring at the wall, thinking about mundane and unexciting tasks. I spend about 99% of my day being serious. With this understanding, I do not hesitate spending the remaining one percent doing things like answering telemarketing calls in ridiculous voices or sing loudly in the middle of a grocery store with whatever song is blaring on the speakers at the time. I don't believe this to be good or bad. Like an angry football coach, it is what it is.

Here's the crazy coach.

Good Things

I've been arguing with Aimee on how to share good news. Neither of us is the type of person who likes to share something good unless it is with someone who we feel will sincerely appreciate it. We don't want to be that person who rambles on while not noticing the news recipient's eyes to glaze over. It happens. You know what I mean.

So anyway, Aimee is preggers. Knocked up. With child. As far as our ongoing argument, I told Aimee that if we don't announce it soon, the kid's gonna be taking his/her driving test before anyone learns she's pregnant. So, there you have it. More to come.

On a light note, I've been bothering Aimee recently, by yelling out "Wwwwwizard!" as seen in the TV commercial below. She always tells me to stop, but at least I enjoy it. I think our dogs enjoy it too.

Okay, yes. We're in Miami

South Beach to be exact. Alas, not on vacation. We've been working the whole week. I wish it were a vacation:)

Where am I

Can you tell by this picture?

Secret Location 1st clue

Here's the first clue. Established: we know there's vegetation.

Secret Location

I (Matt) am in a secret location. I will post images for you to guess (not people who know where I am). First correct gets a pat on the back. More to come later today.