Webmaster J and I were talking the other day trying to figure out a way to reach you crazy kids, and it dawned on us we need a chick column (Cluck Talk or something). It’ll be like the View only without fat, ugly chicks; I guess that means it won’t be anything like the View. But each month one “lucky” young lady gets a whole column of uninterrupted web-time. You get to decide on the topics; you get to decide on the tone; you get to decide on the shade of pink you want to write in… I kid… But we figured this is a way to give back to the ladies that love-to-hate-on-us.

Now kinda along those lines, but more along the lines of “Matt likes to trash talk”, we come to my story. I changed the names to protect myself, but the story is most definitely true. Those of you that know me, or have been around me for more than 5 minutes know that I like to talk junk. I might suck at whatever I’m doing, but at least I’ll let you know I’m there. Talking trash is one thing I do well; I’m good at it. I’ll give it to you playing cards, ball, video games, whatever.

This is all good when I’m on game, but when I’m off it gets real ugly, real quick. Earlier this summer I noticed that there were a lot of “Fire Betties” dating average looking guys; I don’t know why but this bothered me all day. But I think it had something to do with the dating habits of underachieving females, and the thought that I might have a chance (not after this week’s column) with them. Anyway, later that night I’m flirting with this beautiful young lady, and we get on the subject of Hollywood couples (Michael Douglas/Catherine Zeta Jones, Billy Bob/Angelina Jolie, any Baldwin brother w/a woman etc.). Out of nowhere, I mean I have no clue where, I say, “Maybe I just have my bar set too low.” The scorching beauty that was on the other end stopped silent; I stopped silent.

Her next words were said in a really scary, really mild tone of voice, “What? I hope I just misheard you.”  At this point I realize that any which way I turn I’m basically screwed. So using my quick Bat-intellect and a healthy dose of fear I say, “I’m sorry; I know I can’t take back what I said, or BS around it. So all I can ask is that you forgive me and store it away for later use, I deserve it.” Her reply was a way too cheerful ok.

This leads me to me next thought: sometime next school year there is going to be an attempt on my life. But also it brings us back to our original thought, that you ladies all have something to write about: like home decorating or keeping the kids or cooking. And in the words of our very own Webmaster J, “the Olsen twins are old and busted”. Remember “Keep the Pedal to the Floor” and “Always be Good to Your Wingman”.

Bandit Where are You?,

Captain Matt

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