ENGAGED.

Wow. I think I will kill myself today. (Actually, I won’t. I’m too narcissistic and I have too many things I want to do before I go).

Speaking of which, THE BURIED LIFE is the worst piece of shit I have ever seen.  Way to go Mark Koops and Howard Owens of Reveille…you’ve botched yet another great idea with horrible execution. I watched last night and I see that the show is more produced than the Golden Globes are. Nobody is buying that those 4 ass fucks brought along a camera on some random ass “what does it all mean” road trip and that you were so enamored by it you just had to distribute it on television. SNEAK INTO THE PLAYBOY MANSION? That’s as creative as you can get? Cool…because hanging around a grato with old Playmates that look like quilts with Fred Durst and Kevin Connolly is exactly what I want to do before I die. Furthermore, MY LIFE AS LIZ is a fucking joke. You do realize that it’s CLARISSA EXPLAINS IT ALL (read: NOTHING) done reality style, except that your story producers are so half-assed they gave Liz a camera to pretend she was working on a project for her Film class and that she was shooting on a videocamera WITHOUT A MOTHERFUCKING BATTERY in the camera. Continuity goes a long way, gaiz. Especially in reality television. Ugh, I HATE YOU MTV. You were once the barometer of hip and now you are seemingly old enough to need said body part replaced.

Ok, back to the topic at hand: THE MARRIED LIFE. My old buddy from college just got engaged to his girlfriend of a few years, which makes me extremely happy. You see, I’m a firm believer in getting married. I want out of this bullshit dating pool.  I want a towel to dry off with a nice Jewish dame. They look so content and ready for the rest of their lives in the Facebook pictures (look, I won’t post them…they’re like adults and shit, not just girls I want to schtup).  Mazel Tov, Scott. You guys look ecstatic.

Why do I want to get married, you ask? Well, because I want someone to share MYSELF with. The good, the bad, the ugly, the handsome. I would love to come home at the end of each workday and express my frustrations while helping to cook dinner. I remember what it is like going to the movies with someone you actually like, being happy to get up during the previews to fetch candy (which normally I’ll never do.).  I look at my parents, you see, and as nuts as they are (batshit) they love each other. My mom wants to kill my Dad and visa versa on some days, but at the end of EACH of those some days they are happy to have each other. I know this because they get to look at me and Jonathan, my brother, and realize we’re their work of art, and we can’t even get appraised because we are so valuable in the art community. We’re like the fuckin’ post-Obama Shep Fair of art, or the pre-Obama Banksy.

To conclude: GOD, it’s me, Matt.  If you’re out there, please send a nice, intelligent, brunette with glasses Jewish girl my way. One who likes Hitchcock, cooking, reading, and sucking dick.

Thanks!