The most ridiculous Soap Opera scene you will ever see

What you are about to see, if you choose to do so, is a scene from an actual Soap Opera. It is not a parody. I saw this scene on the day it aired. I think it was a holiday, because there is no other reason why I would be home during the day, Monday through Friday.

When I saw Aimee after watching it, I failed in describing how ridiculous it was. It went somethign like this:

(Matt to Aimee) Just watched this Soap named Passions (laughing, trying to get out words)..There was some type of half man/half woman in a mask, speaking in an odd voice, trying to seduce the leading man. Then the whole scene goes into a dream sequence and they start ballroom dancing..

It went something like that. My favorite reference in the scene is the one by the 'thing' talking about "the Butterflies." The show is no longer on the NBC Network. Alas.

Aimee has never seen this scene, so she can see it here if she wants. At least she'll know what I was talking about. Then she'll say "What inspired you to put that on our blog? What is wrong with you?"

Every Day is A Gift: Listen to the Professor

I may be a Professor of 'keepin it Real' but the title of this post doesn't not refer to me (Matt).

Aimee and I were watching Good Morning America this morning and learned about a tragic but inspiring and touching story. The fella in the pic above is a professor at Carnegie Mellon. He has three kids, a loving wife, a great life...but he's got six months left to live. He gave a good-bye speech to his University, friends, and family. The speech was reported in the Wall Street Journal, then on GMA.

I won't analyze the story or give you my take. You can watch what we watched by clicking HERE. You may have to wait-out a commercial but it's worth it.

After Tony Soprano survived getting shot, he believed every day is a gift. The professor above basically said the same thing, among a lot of other things. I don't think the idea is lost on Aimee or me.

Not forgetting the importance of the Professor's message, how about a GIFT for YOU on this DAY? The professor referenced growing up and realizing one's dreams. The following video is not a unfulfilled dream of mine, but it sure seems that if it weren't actually real, a person could wake up one morning and say the following:

I just had the strangest dream. I dreamnt about some Rock group whos members all wore the same funny-looking wig, consisting of some type of over-blown 1950's Hair Do. The group was from Finland, but were playing American Southern Rock: a very unique version of Lynard Skynard's Sweet Home Alabama. The craziest thing about this dream is that the Rock group was being backed up by over a hundred members of the Former Soviet Union's Red Army Choir, incluing percussion instruments. I wish I could explain more. What a weird, but great dream...

Ohhhh, but was it? Lucky for you, reader, it is real. One thing I think I will do before I die is perfect the dance moves of the guy in the image below. You see a bit of the moves about half way through the video.

If you like the song (Sweet Home Alabama), you must watch. I think it's awesome. That's just me though. Anyway, enjoy your day...enjoy as many as you can.

Click on the image to see the video.

My parents Golden Child is a dog....really.

(by Matt)

It's great when a sibling achieves a milestone which makes your parent's proud. What happens when that sibling is a DOG?

Chico. Chico Chico Chico. Special little Chico.

My mother sent an email with the following text and a photo (above):

"Chico got his certification for Therapy dog and I thought I'd brag! He and I will probably be visiting a battered women's shelter and also a group of developmentally disabled young adults."

Is he going to cure Cancer as well? What will he be doing next week....teaching Calligraphy to homeless Veterans? Has Chico actually discovered the ability to walk on water?

One would think that Chico would be the sole focus of an empty-nested, quiet home. Au Contraire...my parents’ home is not a quiet bastion of peacefulness. ... Chico is one of THREE dogs in my parents’ house. Not only does Chico outshine his human siblings, he gets to rub his greatness in the face of two OTHER dogs.

I wouldn't be surprised if I heard a knock on our door from their other dogs, with a bottle of Scotch in hand and ready to share their tale of woe. What about the human children? They raised SEVEN.

I cannot say I am above any type of dog insanity because I implored Aimee to get a second dog..no, make that second puppy, at the same time...while living in a one bedroom apartment. So, I don't need therapy to explain my crazed affinity for dogs for obvious reasons.

Kidding aside, Chico actually IS a Golden Child. He looks at you like you are the only person that has ever mattered in the history of Earth and the remaining planets. He has that Bill Clinton-I care about you-you matter-btw, I am a rock star way of looking at you. So, here's to you Chico....

Separated at Birth? Doppelganger?

With reference to Matt's affinity for the Thank God I'm a Country Boy below. . .

Did John Denver moonlight as Cousin Oliver, aka "the kid who killed the Brady Bunch" ?

We went to a Chilean Festival on Sunday

So, Aimee and I met up with Dave and Julie and went to a Chilean Festival on Sunday in Bethesda. Yesterday (9/18) was Chilean Independence Day.

We had a great time and ate a lot of food, including Pastel De Choclo and Empanadas. Pastel De Choclo is a Chilean dish that is reaaaally goohhood. We actually brought some home and ate it last night for dinner. I told Aimee that if she learned how to make it that I would marry her. Har har har, whatever.

Later on, my parents and sister (Andrea) showed up with one of their dogs, Chico (named Chico, because his breed is Cuban). My mom, Andrea, and brother Jhan (pronounced John) are going back to Chile in December. This is my mom's second trip to Chile in a year. The first one was great and I hope they have as much fun as we did last year.

From Sunday:

Chilean folkloric singing group

The National Dance: La Cueca. They invited people from the crowd to join. What is the U.S. National Dance? Is is The Worm?

Food, good to eat.

Priests.

Aimee "cannot" find her camera

So, I asked Aimee to tell me where the digital camera is located, so that I may download photos from the event we went to yesterday. There were challenges involved in the search for the camera.

Since I don't have the photos, I thought I'd share a musical moment I experienced while watching TV on Saturday. I got caught up in a PBS special dedicated to the life of John Denver. John Denver was internationally known in the 1970's. Even though he looked like a Muppet, he could put his @$$ into a song.

Anyway, he did a duet with the Great Johnny Cash. I liked it so here it is for you. I leave you with a Misty taste of moonshine and a teardrop in my eye. Not really..that was just an excuse to steal some of the song's lyrics.

A scientific talk about happiness by a Smart Guy

(By Matt)

The following video managed to maintain my attention, which is a huge deal because I have problems paying attention to anything except the sensations of 'very hot/very cold' or 'Ouch, this physically hurts' or 'I am hungry' or 'I think I have to poop.'

The guy in the video is Retarded Smart: so smart that it's just Retarded to even conceive his level of intelligence. Luckily for me, I don't have his burden. What I do have is a video of him explaining the science of happiness.

He is a Harvard professor. I have a story about me at Harvard on a wintery weekend that involves ridiculousness, but since my parents read this blog and I may run for President one day, I'll have to remain silent on this. I'm already a Public Figure, so it wouldn't be a good idea anyway.


The minumum thing you can learn from this video is that if you win the lottery, you will be no more happier a year later than the person who, by accident, becomes a parapalegic (a year later). He didn't say anything about parapalegic lottery winners so don't ask.

What I gathered from the video: Balance is important and it's all relative.

In Remembrance: 9/11/01

(By Aimee)

9/11 Memorial on Staten Island
This is difficult. It is every year. Everyone has a story-some are more stinging and tragic than others. I'd like to think of mine as one of the best things that ever happened to me on one of the worst days of my life. It was 6 years ago but when I remember it, it's as if it was 6 minutes ago.

I'd prefer not to go into the details of the morning. It's the afternoon and the evening afterwards that the story really began for me.

After a morning of running from one of the falling towers, finding shelter in the Staten Island Ferry Station, crossing the Brooklyn Bridge with innumerable others, I made my way through Brooklyn- some times on foot and a bit by train- to a long line for an Express bus headed to Staten Island. I had no idea exactly where it was going or really even where Staten Island was. I just wanted to get on it and get away from the burning tip of Manhattan.

I was with my friend Christina in a line full of strangers but we were actually alone. We were able to make it on the bus-we had no idea if there would be another or even if the Verrazano Bridge would be allowing traffic. We stood in the aisle, holding on the backs of seats for balance, looking to each other for some sort of idea of what the setting sun was going to bring (we had nowhere to go).

The looks on people's faces were of confusion, profound sadness and weariness. As Christina and I were talking about what we were going to do, we were offered a ride by a man. We looked at each other with uncertainty and saw a similar look of skepticism from a woman ahead of us to her husband. Immediately she stepped in.

"Here, use my phone. You can call a hotel on Staten Island so you'll have a place to stay tonight." I don't know what it was but I instantly felt a sense of relief in her warm tone. We got off at the stop with the couple and they kindly offered to take us to the best hotel on Staten Island. After finding a 3 page waiting list at the hotel and going from one hotel to the next (remember the 'No-Tell Motel'?!), almost 3 hours later they said, 'you're coming home with us!!' Relieved and thankful, we accepted.

Let me introduce you to our saviours of the day: Tommy and Loretta O'Connor. That day they were strangers, today they are family. You see, not only did they take me in that day but once I moved to NYC they took me into their home- I lived with them for a month or so! They folded me into their social lives-their friends and family became my friends and family. Kathy and Peter, Mrs. Molfino, the O'Connors-everyone made such a poweful impact on me.

As we remember that day of such tragedy, I also remember it as a day of great hope and love. I say all this to say something to Tom and Loretta: THANK YOU. Thank you for opening your home and your lives to me. I had such a rich experience with you. You truely changed the course of my life!

As this day rolls around each year, there is a flood of mixed memories. But most of all what resonates with me is the kind, selflessness of a couple of strangers. I will always be thankful to you for this!!

Sonic Cheetahs of Death invade Poolesville Maryland

Allow me, Matt, to explain.

Poolesville: This past Saturday was Poolesville Day. Poolesville is a small secluded town that is located relatively near us in Montgomery County Maryland. Unlike where we live, Poolesville has retained it's Maryland 'country charm.' Each year, the town has Poolesville Day. The whole town shows up for this festival. They close off the streets, have a parade, sell food, listen to music, ride horses, throw pies in peoples faces and just plain celebrate.

Now, the reason for our visit to Poolesville Day:

The Sonice Cheetahs of Death: This is a band that includes one of my former housemates and current friends, Scott. Aimee and I are friends with Scott and his wife, Alex.

Anyway, back to the Sonic Cheetahs of Death. They were great. Aimee and I agreed to leave after we listened to a couple of songs since it was so darn hot outside.... but we enjoyed the music so much, we stayed through most of their set.

Poolesville Day and The Sonic Cheetahs of Death may not be a match made in heaven since one is a country town's day celebration and the other an Indie Rock band. Plus, the band was in the earliest slot of the day at 11 am, which doesn't exactly make the situation ripe for a big crowd. Though this is true, the few folks who did sit and enjoy the music didn't seem to care about that. And the band didn't seem to care about their time slot and the 'who' or how many people were watching. They just played their great music and the people listened and enjoyed. The way it should be.

Now, a few pics......

Alpacas. No, not llamas. Google it.

The center of Poolesville

Aimee in Poolesville

Matt in Poolesville


The Sonic Cheetahs and ten-year old girl soccer player fans.

Hot Rod.


Les Cheetahs

Scott Carpenter, a Groovin Cheetah

The Concert Venue

Back To School

Aimee here. . .

It's back to school time again which brings many deep-seeded, forgotten memories flooding back-as well as reminds me why I can't stand pre-pubescent boys. (I'll get to that by way of recent example)

Last week I was shopping at a local department store. By shopping I mean that I went in for a very specific item, made a B-line to that department, chose my goods and made my way to the cashier.

On the way down the escalator to the cashier (yes, this store was big enough to have an escalator yet only a cashier was open), I noticed a line forming at the bottom of the Up escalator. Odd. Then I noticed a young boy-probably 11-13-trying to run down the up escalator. Now, I know he was not doing this because he discovered it was a faster mode than going down the engineered way, the mounting crowd at the bottom gave testiment to that. He was just a punk kid whose father was also at the bottom laughing and shaking his head in a 'boys will be boys' sort of endorsingly dismissive way.

Whatever. I had my stuff and wanted to get out of there. As I pass through the racks of juniors, misses and women's jeans, blouses and evening wear, I finally make out the cashier (again, the cashier, as in singular). Who is the party directly in front of me?? The obnoxious boy, his friend and his weekend dad. (Matt can tell you more about weekend dads)

The boys were rough-housing in front of me, almost knocking into me a couple of times. I heard things like 'you thought that was choking, what do you call this?' and 'do you think this would get caught in your throat if you swallowed it?' and the dreaded 'watch this!'. FINALLY, the weekend dad said what we were all thinking:

'Boys, stop that! Go outside.

Go play in the street. I mean. . .' (chuckles to himself)

Well, I meant it.

Anyway, with the boys gone and my purchase finalized, I started to think of a similar dynamic that I once found myself in. You see, everyone above was playing an age-old role. The permissive, jocular weekend dad, his asshole kid and the kid who was the only one nice enough to still be the brunt of the asshole kid's affections.

I was the latter. Mostly because I was new in town and didn't know any better. This girl had a reputation with a trail of visible bruises.
I will not disclose her full name but she was called the same as me: Amy. Amy lived on the street behind my cul-de-sac and was one of the first people I met while I was riding my bike around our new neighborhood.

At first glance, I thought she must have been a high-schooler because she seemed much older than me. By older I mean the sight of her prompted people like my mother to say things like 'Don't worry Aimee, some people just develop faster than others'. And older in the way she treated people-like they were all her underlings. But no, Amy was in my grade and as school time rolled around, in my class.

Amy was an only child. She had a swimming pool, her own room, closets full of new clothes and when she went to the grocery store she got to do things that I never was allowed. Things like get Pringles and liter bottles of Coke and ice cream and frozen pizza, afterwards stopping by Wendy's to get whatever she wanted there.

I knew this because if I was lucky enough to be at her house when it was time to go to the store, they would bring me along to witness and enjoy in all these fabulous things.

Well, joining in on this fabulousness came at a price.

I was Amy's whipping girl.

If she wanted any of these said wonderful groceries, I was demanded to get them for her from the kitchen. I was rewarded with a slug to the arm or a shove to the floor. If we were in the pool, one of her favorite ways to thank me for my friendship was to hold me under the water until she took mercy on my futile flailing (she had a good 20+lbs on me). I would burst to the surface, gasping and spitting to her laughing and pointing.

After the school year started I wised up and found nicer more development-commensurate friends. But I never fully put away my friendship with Amy. I think I may have just been replaced by a newer, slighter, more naive little girl.

Time passes and we all play our roles. I've been able to get a bit more selective in who I make time for as friends. As it turns out, they've ended up to be a lot like me. I'd like to think I'm still the nice one that even the bullies want to befriend. But as an adult, you get one free punch and then I'm walking.

More Wedding Photos

Yesterday I told Aimee:

You are crazy and need psychological assistance.


To which she menacingly responded:

Remember that.


Anyway, who doesn't like wedding photos...Here's some more from our time at Dave and Julies wedding in Virginia.

Finally some pics with Dave and Julie. Dave is about 13 feet tall. I am about the same height as the guy to Dave's left, on a good day, in platforms. I look like a hairy little child next to Dave. Anyway, the pic is nice and the mountains are nice in the background.

Bride and her lady helpers.

Okay, wrap it up ladies. My patience lasts another three seconds.

It's called "The Sitting Siamese Twin Head Pose"

If you click on this picture it gets larger. HOLY CR@P!