Facebook Status Updates Collection

I have had several requests to list my facebook status updates in a blog, so I am finally acting on said requests. These are listed from most recent to least recent, so if you want any type of forward-moving chronology, you best start at the bottom. Unfortunately, it appears that facebook only keeps about two months' worth of updates in its history, so all the updates from before then are lost forever, save the few that I can recall. Going forward, I will try to do this every couple of months to avoid losing any future updates. Then again, I may never do this again. Yeah, that sounds like me. Anyway, without further ado...

Matt is posting a collection of the last couple of months’ status updates in a blog.

Matt swears on the life of James Brolin that he just had his name legally changed to Yentl.

Matt would like to start some pointless new stereotypes. For example, Oregonians love mints and Cubans take decent photographs.

Matt didn't get any red velvet cake.

Matt is never going to make it to the gig in Southampton on time. Anybody know of a really really really cheap helicopter rental place?

Matt is tired of reading the same book over and over just because the little guy says “again” every time the story ends. Stories end, little guy. Stories end.

Matt is squirting Elmer's Glue all over his face and thrusting his head into a giant bucket of glitter.

Matt will have what you're having.

Matt would like to know your password so he can steal your identity.

Matt will vote for the candidate that promises to do away with dollars and cents, and make broken toys and outgrown baby clothes the new U.S. currency.

Matt is getting a tattoo on his arm that says "Mom", but it is not a tribute to his mom, it is a tribute to your mom.

Matt doesn't think Elmo is so bad, but prefers pretty much every other muppet.

Matt can't decide if he is the bee's knees or the cat's whiskers, but he is definitely one or the other.

Matt is killing microscopic organisms constantly. And getting away with it.

Matt is considering saving garbage bags full of all the food that his son throws on the floor and making him eat it all on his 18th birthday.

Matt is high on life, but drugs help too.

Matt is slipping you a mickey, but he ain't talking about the drug. And he's penciling you in, but he ain't talking about an appointment.

Matt will clean your clock for twenty bucks, but will not tell you if the phrase "clean your clock" is meant literally or figuratively.

Matt would probably never use a tennis racquet if he owned one, so he would give it to you as a gift. You're welcome.

Matt loves the USA and everything it stands for. Except materialism, intolerance, violence, imperialistic greed and a bunch of other things.

Matt is trolling for clams. Or clamming for trolls. Whichever comes first.

Matt would pay top dollar for a gingerbread gun that shoots marshmallow bullets.

Matt is cruel and unusual.

Matt doesn't live every day like it's his last or his first. He lives every day kind of like it's his 9,683rd.

Matt has no interest in living each day like it's his last. He'd rather live like it is his first. (Lying around screaming, waiting to get fed and rocked to sleep.)

Matt is sprinkling fairy dust on your cracker ass.

Matt bluffed the crap out of everybody last night and won big money with garbage hands.

Matt is slightly concerned that his son's hair is starting to look so much like Gene Wilder's.

Matt is filling a paper bag with doody, putting it on your doorstep, lighting it on fire and ringing your doorbell.

Matt is trying to work out the logistics of becoming a weak, slow, clumsy vigilante crime-fighter with average intelligence and no weapons.

Matt was so psyched to see the movie this past weekend that he was actually referred to as "The Dork Knight".

Matt has no qualms about washing down jelly beans with beer.

Matt is pretty sure he saw Heath Ledger on the train this morning, disguised as a Hasid.

Matt wonders if it means that he has had enough coffee when blood starts pouring out of his ears.

Matt cannot seem to make his son understand that eyeglasses are an integral part of Daddy's survival and must be left on his face at all times.

Matt has decided that the only thing more boring than ballplayers riding in the backs of pickup trucks is regular people riding in the backs of pickup trucks.

Matt needs a method of teaching his son to drum using a spoon and a pot that doesn't involve getting repeatedly whaled in the face with a spoon.

Matt just got back from rocking the socks off a bunch of partygoers on Martha's Vineyard. Seriously, a lot of them weren't wearing socks.

Matt loves friends that go out of their way to fit his amplifier into their car so that he doesn't have to carry it on and off the ferry by hand.

Matt brakes for turtledoves.

Matt has sand coming out of his wazoo.

Matt reminds you to let go of the firecracker before it goes off.

Matt has issues. That was a typo. What it should have said was "Matt has tissues".

Matt feels effeminate, having recently eaten lavender ice cream.

Matt is 100% certain that his son is the reincarnation of Richard Pryor.

Matt takes the orange peel out of his mouth, laughs, then coughs. He starts to fall, grabs for a plant, then falls to the ground.

Matt picks a name at random from the new phonebook and says, "Johnson, Navin, R. Sounds like a typical bastard."

Matt has the intelligence of a butter cookie.

Matt will try not to make his status updates so creepy in the future, for the sake of his marriage.

Matt is getting crap from his wife about his last status update.

Matt is screwing your mother.

Matt dreamt last night that President Obama launched a full attack on Iran, and the NY Post headline was "Oh, Bomb-a!"

Matt is locked in the freezer with Mr. Furley. Again.

Matt had a dream last night that you and he were floating high above Manhattan in a magic rowboat, throwing great handfuls of gumdrops into the open mouths of the homeless.