Scenes from Matt’s 26th

I turned 26 last week. I am officially “Almost Thirty,” which means my bones are starting to creek. Also, after 25 one’s metabolism begins to slow down, so sadly, I will soon have to stop eating everything in sight, lest I want to try to get on The Biggest Loser.

To celebrate my birthday, I had a party. I don’t normally throw parties, because the inner dork in me remembers my childhood and worries that no one will show up. For that reason, I made heavy use of Evite, which has to be one of the best tools of the new century, allowing one to effortlessly invite guests, and allowing guests to effortlessly RSVP for the party. This is good for everybody, most of all me, who will then know how much beer to buy.

Theoretically. You see, despite my intriguiging invitation and frequent reminders, almost a dozen people failed to even RESPOND to the Evitation. This was definitely not good for my Inner Dork’s psyche, which is as delicate as tracing paper and easily bruised.

Still, a fair number of people eventually did show up, and so I want to say Thank you to all those who took the time to celebrate my 26th birthday with me. As a lovable angel once said, no man is a failure who has friends.

Update

Sweetie, Jim, Alicia and a startled Bekah smile at something just out of view. Could it be me? Gweepay? Someone forgetting to wear pants? Hmmmm. The world may never know. Probably a good thing.

Gweepay leers drunkenly at Bekah, while most others mug for the camera.

I have it on good authority that I am cute when tipsy.

Jocelyn and I partake of a bit o’ chocolate birthday cake!

King Ritz, Texas, Birthday Boy and Bridge Lady. A motley group, but a fun one!

Brain Fog

I often play online chess against my friend Brett — by “often,” I mean usually 3-5 games a day. Most of these are short, timed games of around three minutes total for each side. This keeps me sharp, focused and entertained.

Usually. I enjoy a hard-fought game, one where each side is trying to be more cunning than the other, using our mental prowess to outwit and outplay our opponent. I also enjoy a rout, as long as I end up victorious. For instance, earlier tonight I played three games against Brett and quickly won two of them. During the game, my mind felt quick and lithe, fully focused and in the game. 3- to 4-move tactics that would lead to a queen capture came easily to me. I spotted the positions, set my trap, drew my opponent out, and pounced. It was glorious.

But recently, things went the other way. I just now played three more games against Brett, and my game never even got off the ground. It was as though my brain was a great, lumbering engine that just wouldn’t start. I would sit there and stare at the board and, try as I might, I couldn’t get it to feel familiar — I couldn’t make the pieces do what I really wanted them to do. I moved them around with my mouse, laboriously and haphazardly, not developing them like I should, not knowing how to respond to simple tactics like Brett’s Predictable Knight Fork (TM). It felt very much like my mind was in a thick fog, and even though I knew there were trees all around me, I couldn’t see them, and I couldn’t help but run into them.

What could account for this drastic change in MindAbility after just a few hours? After probing my currently poky brain, I have come to one conclusion: Super Panda. Not one hour ago, I consumed a large General Tso’s chicken combo with egg roll, fried rice and won ton soup. I was stuffed, and my mind became sluggish. No longer could it focus. No longer could it spot simple patterns and counteract familiar tactics.

I’m sure some of the blame goes to Brett — he played well, hastening my demise. But I’m prety confident most of the blame goes to the dastardly General Tso, whose deep fried golden brown chicken and delectable sauce is too much for any MindWarrior to bear. It is time to get back on the Healthy Food wagon, and time to show Brett that these last few wins were nothing more than flukes.

Wanna play a game???

The Patriot to His Scud: Danger, Averted!

My apologies for having let this blog languish. My one regular reader has informed me that she checks my blog, breathlessly, three times a day, waiting for the second installment to the story, but so far I have disappointed her.

“You must update!” she says. “You will forget what happened next!” I assure her that I could never forget what happened next, because what happened next was one of the scarier things that has occurred in recent months. And I don’t know why she is so damn breathless about it, considering she was THERE when I met the Question Mark Man, THERE when the I faced the subsequent danger. She already knows what happened!

But farbeit from me to question the zealousness of my one devoted fan. Thus, dear readers, I now continue the story I gave you three weeks ago. Buckle up.

My dynamic duo and I left the movie theater lobby, question marks on our minds, and fine establishments of liquor in our sights. We were on 7th Street, smack dab in the middle of Chinatown. It is one of the more colorful areas of the city — beneath a multicolored arch adorned with various Chinese characters (translation: “General Tso’s Combo $5.99!”), bums and protesters alike beg for change, dammit.

We walked along the busy sidewalk, Elizabeth to my left, Gweep just behind us. We were smiling, laughing, talking. My conscious mind was having a blast. Luckily, my subconscious was, as usual, standing sentry. It sensed the danger before I was aware of it — a man about 20 feet ahead walking oddly, swerving, zig-zagging between people. Danger! shouted my subconscious, alerting me to the man. By this point we were about 5 feet from each other. He was still zig-zagging, walking diagonally across the sidewalk and right toward us! He didn’t look hostile, but rather crazy — lost in his own world. He was a missile, a nonsentient body randomly hurtling toward us.

He was two feet away from me now, showing no signs of slowing down. He would hit me in less than a second if I didn’t move. I had to protect myself, my crew, my honor. He looked crazy, and I had no idea if he would stop following me if I jumepd out of his path. I planted my left foot and pivoted clockwise to avoid him, but he angled toward me. Before I could even think, my hand balled into a fist and pulled back. He still said nothing, showed no signs of awareness. My fist decided before I did. It slammed forward and down, making direct contact with his right arm. I hit him hard, so hard that I hurt my fist in the process, and hard enough to change his course. He kept walking, away from us now, seemingly unaware of the blow, still lost in his own disconnected world. My heart was pounding.

“Oh my God,” someone said. I don’t recall if it was me or Elizabeth.

Gweepay was still behind us, as unaware as the missile I had just knocked away. “What?” he said. “What happened?”

“That guy was going to attack me!” I said. “I had to hit him!”

“You hit him?” asked Gweep. “Wow.”

“That was very impressive, sweetie,” said my lady friend.

“Thank you,” I said. “I could have died, you know.”

“I know! But you didn’t! You are so strong and powerful.”

“I am a Patriot to his Scud,” I said.

“Oh, Matt!” cried my lady friend, ripping off her clothes in the middle of the sidewalk as passersby gawked. “I can’t stand it any longer! I must have you NOW. Take me!”

And so I took her. Or let her take me. Or something. The incident might have actually ended with me saying, “Now I really need a drink!” and us walking to an Irish pub, only to be turned away because Elizabeth forgot her ID and looks like she’s 20.

I’m not exactly sure, because it happened three weeks ago. I probably should have updated sooner, but then the ending wouldn’t have been nearly as exciting!