Awkward Conversation.

Carol:  Hey Matt look at that old wrinkly man over there, he looks like he could drop dead any minute huh?
Matt: Carol, that's my grandpa. He's 85.
Carol: Oh my god I'm sorry....
Matt: it's alright.

My personal definition of love:

For one to be IN love with someone, my personal moral behind that is simply:
think whether you would chop off your good arm for this persons safety, comfort, and well being.
To be in love with someone means to have strong feelings for someone who isn't family and that for a part of your life you didn't even know that they existed.

Definition of a Flifferhuzza:

Flifferhuzza, Noun, Definition 1: an automobile that has the ability to sprout wings and fly or float on water and function as a boat.
ex: "Steven was surprised to find a new Flifferhuzza at such an affordable price."

Ad for a friend:

If you're in the need of a good friend, to maybe toss a frisbee with, to longboard with, to maybe play some guitar with, you're in luck. I'm your man. I've just got a simple list of requirements for my future best friend...

-Know how to toss a frisbee as many different ways as I can
-you've GOT to play an instrument..if not ill teach you, what do you want to learn? Guitar, bass, drums, ukelele? Pick your poison.
-I want a friend who doesn't dress like some slob, we need to be able to tell each other "nice shirt" or "sweet shoes man"
-you can't be uptight. If you're always worrying about life, then how are you gonna be able to appreciate the gift of it?
-If you aren't a talk able kid with a sense of humor, turn around now.
-Be outgoing when were together. Hey I'm crazy. I do weird, spastic things just for the hell of it, I love to mess with people I public.
-1 more thing, and this is a deal maker. If you don't listen to Mumford and sons, foo fighters, two door cinema club, or weezer then I'm sorry, we can't relate.

 That's really all I'm asking for...a good friend is hard to come by, you know?

Life in the perspective of a soccer ball.

All day I wait. I wait for the few hours that will come after the children are done with school. The few hours that I dread. All they ever do Is kick me, and bounce me around, and let me hit the ground hard without a comfy landing. I can't believe how rude they are, sweating all over me, drenching me in their stink. And don't even get me started on the sent of those gloves the goalkeepers wear. Unbearable. What did I ever do to them in the first place anyway?