Moving Day...

Last week Ryan told me he was moving. "Totally awesome new place on the beach man! I am so pumped!" As a friend this is one if the last things you want to hear because an important question immediately follows up with that statement. The dreaded "Hey are you free this weekend?" Which translates to "Dude, please help me, I would do it for you...Come on! I'll buy you lunch! Just help me lift this fucking couch!" I let him plead his case, asked what actually has to be moved and where. Turns out we weren't going far, he didn't have that much, and beer was guaranteed. 

I arrived to his house on a hot, sunny Sunday afternoon. We were only moving him about a half a mile away. The biggest thing is his futon, no big deal. I figured he would have some sort of truck to get everything moved in one swoop. Wrong again, as I tend to be. My friend Ry drives a yellow Lotus convertible with trunk space the size of a shoe box. What the hell are we going to fit in that?

This is Ry...and the vehicle he thought would be good for moving...he is brilliant...at least he had beer...

Ry's car is so small that I, at 6' 2" stature, cannot fully fit into it and my legs do not fully stretch out in either of the seats. "How the hell are we supposed to move this crap when I can barely fit in this car." I ask. Ry is not the best critical thinker and he shrugged at this question. What else could we do?...We had a beer while we tried to figure this out. We knew we were going to have to get the futon moved and were stumped on how we were going to do it. Our friend Jeff stopped by while we were thinking of solutions for this problem. "Why don't you guys just water-taxi the futon over?" Jeff said. All of our eyes lit up. Ry lives on the Venice canals in LA and has 2 canoes... best idea ever right? We all ran to the canals to size up the canoes. A collective "This has to work" conversation broke out and we excitedly got on our way to execute our plans.

With a quick buzz and a new sense of accomplishment we decided we had to make one trip before our water adventure. The first trek we thought we would put as much in the trunk "space" as possible, sit me in the passenger seat, close the door and then pack more stuff on top of me through the roof. Sounds good right? Now that we were packed we set sail for a 2 minute drive around the corner to get his stuff moved to his new beach front house.

We both forgot it was St. Patricks Day weekend and it took us an hour to go less than 6 blocks...gotta love LA...all while it was 90 degrees out...with suitcases crushing me...and Rys gas light was on from the moment we left. To break down now would be poetic.

Finally arriving at Ry's new place we unpacked and I met Ry's roommate Scuba Steve. Turns out Steve is a photographer and when we told him about our plan to water-taxi a futon on 2 small canoes he wanted to document the whole thing.

Determination. stevenjayphoto.com...really rad stuff

We decided the car was now worthless and left it at Ry's new place. It only took us 6 minutes to walk back. "We should have just walked. " We both agreed. We quickly got the futon out back to the boats, tied it securely with guitar quarter inch cable (true band guys...it's all we had), and set sail to victory. 

"I can't believe how well this is working!" We kept yelling at each other paddling and taking chugs from our Pabst pounders we secured at the corner Asian market before our voyage. Everyone walking the canals clapped, cheered us on and Steve snapped photos. "It's to crowded to take the roads! We're taking to the sea!" Ry would yell to a passerby and slug his beer. "Yeah! It's moving day!" I would yell after him choking on a swig. At the end of our trek we still had to get the futon out of the canoes and carry it 2 more blocks...and we did so with passion and fury....mainly fueled by the beer.

stevenjayphoto.com

I still ill don't know where my shoes are but that is neither here nor there. Tales like this are what true friendship is all about. Ry is now happily moved in and loving his new location. We spent the rest of the night walking the beach, eating mexican food and drinking champagne. Not too bad. I think there is two morals to this story. First you can make any task, no matter how shitty it is...like helping your friend move, and make it an adventure. Secondly, when your friend asks him to help you move make sure he has beer.

YourFriendMatt

Piper...

"What the hell happened to her mouth?" was all I could say as I saw the four pound, squirrel-like, fur-ball sitting at my feet. Her tongue hanging out of her cocked head staring up at me...

Jamie and I had a rare lazy Sunday off together. Our weekly work schedules never match up so we wanted to make sure we got the most out of the day. Flea Market? Brunch? Beers? Early dinner in and an old movie? It was all on the agenda.

A cloudless sunny morning set the tone for our day and we wanted to make sure we got the most out of it. Luckily for me the local pet adoption was having an open house in a parking lot on Main Street that we had to check out...according to Jamie. Bastards. It's like they had it planned and knew we were coming. We ambled through the vacant lot of misfit animals and their misfit volunteers holding their leashes. I turned my back for a second to stare at a three legged-pit bull and Jamie was gone. I was hoping she was on the other side of the fence ready for brunch but I could not have been more wrong. I almost tripped over her. She was coiled into a ball on the oil stained parking lot asphalt clinging and cottling something furry.

"This ones got a real sad story. She needs a good home. She was thrown from a car when she was a puppy and someone found her on the side of the road. Her jaw was broken and may never close." Pausing for dramatic effect, tisking and shaking her head. She knew what she was doing. She was good. Damn it. "And needs a good home." Said the overweight college drop out peering over her black rimmed hipster glasses "But she is such a cutie!" Jamie looked up from the ground to her with an enthusiastic "Yes! She does need a good home!" She turned and stared at me as I tried talking down off the pet adoption ledge but I knew I was screwed. "IT'S SO FLUFFY I'M GONNA DIE!" was all I kept hearing muffled over kissing noises "Matt, we need her." And thats when I knew I was totally screwed. I manage to talk Jamie into leaving the parking lot...not after she gathered all the pamphlets and information she would need to surely adopt this animal...with or without discussing it with me.

A few days had gone by. We were back to our work week. No dog. "Yes!" having a conversation with myself walking from the driveway one night "Maybe she forgot about it." As I pushed the door open I couldn't have been more wrong...again. "Matt, don't be mad. She needed a good home..."

YourFriendMatt

The American Public...

“Mister! Help me!” exclaimed a short, slender, middle aged, crazy-eyed woman as she ran up to me.

I've had an extensive retail career. I could fill a book about the American Public but this one particular encounter will stick with me for a while. A few years back I was doing holiday help at a hip skate-life retailer. It was the holiday season, on a Saturday, so the store was buzzing with shoppers trying to complete their wish list and get the hell out of there as fast as they could. I took pride in my 8 hour shift of greeting people. Why not? If I am going to stand here for 8 hours and say "Hi." to people all day might as well make it fun. I was doing my greeter ninja work...because heaven forbid your micro-managing floor leads see you let someone in without saying "Hi" and letting them know about the "sale" going on...it was hectic to say the least as this woman came running in. Her hair was a blonde birds nest, her make up was smeared, wearing ripped faded jeans and a ratty, ripped 80's band t-shirt, toting ripped plastic grocery bags with her belongings in it, she smelled of bourbon and cigarette smoke. Screaming “Help!” I looked in her eyes and saw them glazed over rolling in the back of her head...I could tell this was going to be a great interaction...and I prayed she wouldn't swallow her tongue.

In a very upbeat and excited voice I say “What can I do for you today?” giving her my FULL and undivided attention. I needed to hear everything, I needed to know what was going to come out of her foam-at-the-corners mouth. “There’s something wrong with my smartphone!” she was yelling to a store full of holiday shoppers. “May I see it?” holding out my hand playing into her craziness. I examined the phone to find out that the battery wasn’t in it, it had a cracked screen and was emitting the faint smell of dog urine. During the examination of her phone she whispers to herself and then tells me she has been up for 3 days...and loves the band BuckCherry. Amazing. This couldn't be going any better. Playing into her insanity further I said “hmm, looks fine to me but if you don’t mind can you tell me what else is going wrong here?” as she responded with a snappy “Sure can!” Yes...I smiled with delight in knowing that I was about to share in the magical story of this phone and it’s owners journey...and how it ended up with me at the front of this store. 

“It’s my god-damn boyfriend!” she tells me as I nod with my hand on my chin and arm around my chest agreeing with her “He is accessing my smartphone from jail! (Of course her boyfriend is in jail is all I thought…why wouldn’t this woman have a boyfriend in jail?) He is hacking in and making me go to BOOBIE WEBSITES!” She YELLS in the front of the store as parents hide their children’s faces from her and I’s direction. Everyone in the store is slowly but surely starting to acknowledge this interaction (and I want to believe they are as excited as I am to see what’s going to happen). “Oh No…Oh Jeez…We can’t have that…” I say as she continues “Yeah! Damn right! He is making my phone go to RIDE-MY-DICK.com or something like that and I don’t want to go there!” Continuing to YELL as parents are starting to take their families from the store “I see, yeah that’s no good, we can’t have that…please...go on.” I say with assurance as she goes on  “I would never go to RIDE-MY-DICK.com!” She states with confidence as I reply with “Uh huh…continue…” “If anything I would go to EAT-MY-PUSSY.com! That’s the site I’d be on if I was searching for porn-o!” She YELLS some more and flails her arms around to help make her point…or lack there of. “Oh my my!” I say as seriously as I can muster without my cheeks turning red...or laughing uncontrollably. “Miss I am going to go talk to my manager (call the cops) and see if there is anything we can do for you, stay right here.” “That is no problems son. Let me tell you something else, don’t ever get messed up with anyone that loves cocaine.” (Where this was coming from…I have no idea…but I love it.)

I was about to leave this interaction but she sucked me right back in and my full and undivided attention was all on her…again. “Oh? Is that right?” I respond as she launches into another problem she has “Yeah you’re damn straight! I ain’t no coke addict but I have been known to do a “bump” every now and then…” (My mind is on fire, this is amazing, thank you crack woman…I never want this conversation to end) “…But these damn coke fiends…” she continues “…They just love it!” as she flails her arms some more like a prehistoric bird to make her point “I mean if I buy all the coke…shouldn’t I be able to at least BLOW A LINE?!” she flails and screams some more as I respond with “Makes sense to me…if you buy the candy bar…shouldn’t you be able to eat it?” I say definitively “My point exactly.” she agrees “I don’t want to hold you up…go see if you can do something about this phone” She dismisses me.

I thank her for her time and tell her I am going to see if there is anything I can do while rushing to the back of the store grabbing any co-worker I can. When I reach the back with some of my fellow employees I tell them the story and that this woman is still in the store. After a few minutes of rolling on the ground laughing they tell me I have to get her out before she causes anymore of a scene. I compose myself and head back to the front of the store.

“Ma’am” she turns to me and almost trips, lazily, over a parent with a stroller, “I checked with some of my co-workers and the only thing I can tell you to do is go to the police. They can file a report if you think your boyfriend is hacking into your phone.” She stares at the phone I am holding (I think…either that or her heart stopped for a minute from overdose). When she snaps back to reality from her drug daydream she blurts out “I already been to the cops! Wanna know what they said?!” “I would LOVE to hear what they had to say” I respond. “They told me to take a nap!” She then looked over her shoulder and said she had to go. Just as quickly as she came into my life she was gone. She ran out of the store and never looked back. I went back to work greeting people and prayed something else would spice up the day.

It’s the little things in life that make it worthwhile. I have no idea where she is today but I hope this woman is still out there making others as happy as she made me. She taught me something that day that I will never forget. If you buy the blow, you should be able to do a line or two.

YourFriendMatt