Girl World

     Matt experienced girl world up close and personal while doing an ab workout at the gym. He was next to 2 peppy girls in ponytails, wearing tight spandex and little tank tops. As the 2 happily gossiped away, a blonde haired guy strutted over. "Yo ladies, what's up?!" The girls gave him a simpering smile and the 3 began chit chatting.
      It was interesting for Matt to watch human breeding in it's beginning stages. The guy puffed his chest out while the girls playfully slapped him on the arm, all the while giggling. He then left and Approximately 20 seconds later, both girls burst into unconstrained laughter.
      "Ohhhh ma gosh! He thinks we're soooo hot!"
      "I know, right? Did you notice how he flexed his arms? He soooo want's us, it's cute really," said second girl. They then continued talking about him as if he were an annoying little boy who didn't stand a chance with them. Matt nearly busted up laughing, but contained himself so as to be able to better listen in. He continued to do crunches, even though he had done plenty, and a moment later the conversation transitioned-
      "OK girl we need to do our butt workout now..."
      "Ugh, again?"
      "Yaaaa, a nice @$$ just doesn't happen on its own, if you want him to notice it, you gotta put in the hard work..." Matt watched as the 2 got down on all fours and began this ridiculous leg rotation/weird backwards kick move. A moment later 2 NEW guys approached.
      "Hey hey chicas, what's goin on?" one guy drawled.
      "We are gonna go get some fast food to eat after this, wanna join us?" asked second boy.
      Both girls looked HORRIFIED by the thought of eating out after their workout. "Um, noooo, we still have cardio to do..." replied one girl arrogantly.
      It was almost too much. Matt nearly lost it here ;)

The Orange Juice That Wasn't...

Matt had a pleasant Sunday. He slept in a little late, then went to church and felt all nice and happy afterwards. After church, he headed over to a friend's home for a Sunday brunch. It was his friend's birthday and Matt was excited to pop in and say hello and enjoy a good meal.

Since he arrived a little late, all the guests had food already. Matt wandered over to the kitchen and loaded his plate with some wonderful looking dishes. There was a delicious looking soup, breads with goat cheese and raspberries, and a fancy egg and potato dish. Matt was feeling thirsty though. He looked around and spotted a half empty container of orange juice. He set his plate down and walked over to the beverages. There were wineglasses to drink from, and Matt felt very fancy. There was already some orange juice poured in a fancy container sitting next to some beautiful colored bottles. Matt poured himself a glass and drank.

The first thing he noticed was that his orange juice seemed to have a bit of a 'zing' to it. It wasn't bad though, in fact it was kinda sweet. He drank the whole glass and poured another, wondering why the orange juice he bought never tasted like that. He then took his glass and plate and sat down in the living room with the other guests to enjoy brunch.

It was after the second full glass that Matt noticed he was feeling a little light headed. He was in a very chatty mood and was talking animatedly to complete strangers. Soon he was laughing in a very boisterous manner, and couldn't seem to stop. As he was draining his third full glass, a friend of his pulled him aside.

"Matt, I thought you didn't drink?"

"Ya, that's right, why do you ask," he laughed. His friend kind of snickered and tried to conceal a smile.

"Matt, you're drinking alcohol right now, and have had a few glasses..."

Matt stared with horror down at his orange juice that wasn't orange juice. He then started to laugh loudly and was on the verge of tears from laughing so hard.

"I thought it was orange juice! Oh how rich!" he exclaimed. Needless to say, everyone in the group had a case of the giggles as they explained to Matt what 'Mimosa was.' (A mix of champagne and orange juice). No wonder Matt loved it so much! Turns out they weren't pretty colored bottles for decoration in the kitchen. Good thing he didn't try the raspberry vodka as well. He thought it was fruit juice..

He has to say, he's never been drunk before, and the after effect was kinda nasty. He had a roaring headache for a while and fell asleep. While sleeping he dreamed over and over again that he was throwing up first in a toilet, then the trunk of his car, and again in a gym bag. He woke up feeling pretty nauseated and weak. He doesn't think he will be trying 'Mimosa' again anytime soon...

Sundays Matt always talks on the phone with his parents. As he woke up feeling groggy from his 3 hr nap, he called his mother up. They began chit chatting, and his mother asked him how his day was.

"It was nice. I went to church, then went to brunch at a friends house, drank some alcohol, then went home and took a nap. How was your day?"

Needless to say, his parents laughed and laughed and laughed at Matt's silly adventure.

And that is the tale of the orange juice that wasn't, and how a naive Mormon boy from Utah got drunk for the first time ;-)

The Hat Man

*This is an excerpt from a series of essays Matt is working on called 'The Manhattan Memoirs.' It's all about his zany experiences in Manhattan with his cousin Jaynie this past summer. Enjoy!

The Hat Man

I love the word ‘fedora’. I could say it over and over again. Fedora fedora fedora. Take for instance the following sentence- “Jason Mraz finds fedora hats to be quite striking.” Isn’t that a nice sounding sentence? If they didn’t drown my small head I would wear fedoras on a regular basis simply so I could hear the word. “Nice fedora Matt” people would compliment, or “That fedora sure makes you look sexy!” However, my love of fedoras was about to take a turn for the worse.

As Jaynie and I were walking through the East village one day, we walked past a booth full of hats, mainly fedoras. I had learned early on not to make eye contact with the street vendors, unless you were interested, and as we were walking past I maintained a straight line of vision, looking neither to the left or right for very long. Jaynie, however, broke the cardinal rule and made the mistake of stopping to look at the hats, then making eye contact with the Chinese man in charge.

“Yu wike my hats?” The Chinese man asked enthusiastically. I turned back to the two and as soon as the vendor saw me he gave a toothy grin, grabbed the nearest hat and approached me at a much faster pace than I was altogether comfortable with. Before I could say so much as “Please don’t touch me, I don’t know you,” the man had thrust a fedora down over my head.

Jaynie snickered and quickly covered her mouth and the man looked pleased with himself. “Yu wook bewy bewy nice in my hat!”

“Aww, yeah, thanks.” I then pulled the hat off. “Yeah, I’m kinda sweaty and I don’t wanna ruin your hat, here you go.” I handed the fedora back.

“Ooh, you twy anova one then!” The man then procured a checkered fedora from off a peg and slammed it down over my eyes. I pulled the hat up enough so I could see.

“I like that one Matt!” said Jaynie. “Ooh, let’s try that one on you.” She pointed to a brown fedora, and the man quickly snatched it. This time I took the hat from him and placed it on my head myself.

“He wooks bewy handsome wewing my hat, ony tweny five dollas!” the Chinese man exclaimed. I politely handed the hat back.

“Thank you, but I’m just looking today.” The man’s disposition instantly chilled and I suddenly felt nervous.

“Yu no buy a hat fwom me?” the Chinese man asked in a much quieter voice as he put his hands on his hip.

“Um no thank you, but they were very nice, thanks for-“

“Yu waste my time!” The man suddenly bellowed. He narrowed his eyes shrilly and I took a step back in alarm.

“Go! Go away fwom my stow!” The man then literally began flapping his hands and shooing us out of his booth, the way Miss Alabama would probably shoo away a swarm of mosquitoes with her stiletto heels during her talent portion.

Jaynie and I kind of gasped in fright and we retreated hastily to the street, and started laughing as we ran a little further away. I looked over my shoulder and could see the man still brandishing a fedora at us out of his anger.

And that is why you do not make eye contact with street vendors.

©Matt Jaggi, February 2012

Super Glue

Matt used to enjoy putting Elmer's glue on his hands as a young child. He and one of his little friends would pour lavish amounts of the white stuff all over their palms, rub it in like lotion, then clap each other's hands and give one another sticky high fives. When the glue would dry, it was fun to peel. It was like pulling an extra layer of skin off, and they would pretend they were wizened and wrinkled old people whose skin was falling apart. Kinda fun. The same thing works with rubber cement. Matt found out not 2 hours ago, however, that this is not a good activity to try with super glue.

There is a reason it's called super glue. It's particularly super at sticking. Go figure! As he carefully tried to superglue the hood ornament back onto the front of his Toyota Camry (he slammed the hood down, causing it to pop out), the bottle suddenly gurgled out more glue than he could handle. He panicked as the glue trickled down 3 of his fingers. Dropping the ornament on the cement, he frantically tried to wipe the glue off on the nearby grass, but to no avail.

Feeling as angry as a fat woman whose Twinkies are stolen by a colony of hungry midgets, he attempted to finish the project. As he picked up the hood ornament with his unglued fingers, he coincidentally brushed a finger against an area still wet with glue. Grunting in frustration at now having 4 glued fingers, Matt applied more glue to the back of the ornament and shoved it back into place against the car. He held it for 20 seconds then let go. Only he couldn't let go. His thumb and 2 fingers he had used to hold the ornament were now somehow glued to the metal piece. He pulled as gently as he could, but merely pulled the ornament out, which was now dangling from his fingers.

At this point, Matt cursed Satan and pigeons and all things foul and nearly started to cry. Instead, he laughed. Giving up on the project he went inside with an empty super glue bottle. He now had no feeling in the tips of 7 fingers, and needed to figure out how to solve this sticky dilemma! He only wished his little friend were with him. He would convince her that it would be fun to pour super glue on her fingers...

©Matt Jaggi, February 2012

Mother Bears

Matt has an interesting professor at school. Yesterday during class, she somehow got on the topic of mothering. It was a wonderful lecture, and Matt wrote down everything she had to say...

"Maybe we are the same as bears when it all comes down to it," his professor began. "A mother has to teach her child certain survival skills, just as a mother bear would have to teach her cub survival skills. And also, a mother has to teach her child how to behave in public. It's probably the same with bears too." Matt's ears perked up at this.

"In bear society, I bet the mothers have to teach their cubs that when they are playing, it's okay to wrestle and claw a little. But biting a chunk of fur out of another bear is not socially acceptable. It's the same with mom's. We have to teach our kids that it's not appropriate to hit or bite other children. They can wrestle and frolick all they want, just not bite." Matt was very intrigued by the path the lecture was taking.

"Also mom's have to be firm and teach their children how to take care of themselves. They teach their kids to stay away from strangers and to run away from bullies. And I bet in bear world, a mother bear tells her cub that if they ever encounter a bigger bear, they need to run away as well. That or else stand really big and hope for the best..." Matt's professor kind of sank into a stupor of thought at this point, and her eyes grew real wide before she continued on.

"Come to think of it, it's a good thing I'm not a bear mother, because I have a feeling that all my cubs would be dead..."

©Matt Jaggi, February 2012