“Slick” was never a word synonymous with my name. But I’m okay with that. I know I’m the sort of person who flubs when trying to show off anyway. Dress me in Bruno Maglis and they’ll walk their way onto the nearest banana peel.My friend Chad calls my antics “Mattventures”, and they’re a common occurrence. Like when I sold my soul to pursue an anti-Semitic blonde only to still be denied access (hence the t-shirt above, which I should be forced to wear like a scarlet letter A.) Or the other night, when I tried to show off by passing my friend Jeff doing 110 mph on Rosecrans Boulevard in another friend’s G35, and Jeff called to let me know my headlights weren’t on. Or when I left the sunroof open on my now ex-girlfriend’s new GMC Yukon, and it rained Katrina-style all night. I could go on, but my tears will short out the keyboard.
Chad himself has had a couple doozies, like the time he dove 8 feet into a 6-foot pool, smashed his noggin, and then posed for his driver’s license photo the next day with a face full of scabs.
Since it’s Friday, my favorite day of the week, I’ve decided to give myself a half-day, go sip a Zima and turn the reins over to you guys to leave comments recanting some of your own smooth moves. You know you got ‘em.
P.S.– Boca Goy, as tempting as it will be to make an Austin Powers reference, gimme at least one real one.
