DISCLAIMER: If you want me to stop polluting your mailbox, just let
me know, you plaintive mewing kitten you.
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DATCLAIMER: Reality used to be a friend of mine. Then we both wanted
to go out with the same girl. Things were said. We don't talk any more.
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DE OTHER CLAIMER: I think that about covers it, actually.
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THE MATT HOLOHAN REPORT -- V.2 I.5
The official newsletter of the Matt Holohan Club
Formerly known as recovering alcoholics for a free Tibet
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Ladies and gentlemen, introducing the first ever buzzed Matt Holohan
Report. History being made right before your eyes. Well, actually just
before Matt's eyes. By the time this reaches your eyes history will already
have been made and Matt will be asleep. Sucks to be you. Ha ha ha.
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CUBAN PETE DOESN'T PRACTICE SANG(A)RIA
Matt recently returned from a delightful party at the home of one of
the more lovely and talented FOMs. The theme of the party was some sort
of bizarre Cuban thing, the result being a great deal of fried fruit, girls
in revealing clothing, and music that sounds like what Ricky Martin's music
would sound like if it hadn't been sent through a pop-music crappifier.
All in all it was a fun evening, although the guy dressed as Fidel Castro
was more than a little unsettling. Since Matt's primary aim for the evening
was to get his ass drunk, he spent most of the night nursing a cup of sangria,
a strange fruity concoction which created a sensation in his mouth not
unlike the sensation created by those pine nuts on that ill-fated evening
so many months ago. The party was broken up when some U.S. spy planes spotted
the nuclear missiles in the back yard. Once that Russian fleet showed up
Matt knew it was time to make his exit.
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PORK PIE
Matt attended his first sorority invitational this week, hosted by
none other than the dreaded Kappa Alpha Theta house. Although Matt spent
the entire evening chatting away with an estranged FOM who was visiting
for the week, he did get a chance to witness first-hand the time-honored
ritual of drunk college students negotiating sex. One new tool in this
process seems to be the "Hey! Look at my back!" shirt, which consists of
a rectangular cut of fabric covering the midsection and boobies held up
with an array of straps in the back (ranging from very few to quite a few),
leaving the gal's backside almost entirely exposed above the waist. Apparently
clothing designers are picking up on the fact that the back can be a very
attractive part of a woman's body, especially if there's not much going
on up front. This could also backfire with disastrous results. Just think:
"Whoa! Check out the back on her! (approaches girl from behind, taps
her on enticing shoulder) Excuse me... (girl turns around revealing a face
made for radio) DAMN! Sorry, nevermind." Perhaps such unpleasantries could
be avoided if the shirts came with special "WARNING: UGLY" labels for our
aesthetically challenged young women.
Did this passage upset you? Well, BACK off! I'll be BACK next week,
and then I'll send you BACK to Farmingdale, you brainless horned toad.
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BRINGING UP THE REAR
Matt got a new chair today. It's one of those up-down moving chairs
that let you pretend you're on a space ship. (Space ships have up-down
moving chairs, too. Of course, by this rationale you could also pretend
you're a secretary, but that would just be weird.) The best thing about
the chair was the fact that it was made in some foreign country, and with
all their elaborate production costs they couldn't find room in their budget
for a decent translator. In addition to instructions like "Step 4. Slide
chair back with Seat back support between chair seat and seat plate making
sure it locks into the steel reinforcement.first followed by lock washer(L)
.and Place washer (K) on Adjustment knob (M) and insert through seat plate
into Seat back support. Tighten.", the crate o' chair bits also included
a smaller rectangular box containing the little gas thingy that lets the
chair go up and down and a telescope looking thing to cover up the gas
thingy. The side of this box contains, in giant red letters, "SCREW PACK
IN IT". I don't think any of us can hope to know what this means, but in
any case, Matt has a new place to put his bottom.
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CONUNDRA
Why is Wednesday so hard to spell? Can gravity be repulsive? Is "Baby
Love" just Joan Osborne's subtle way of telling us she's a pedophile? Why
are there so many toroidal foods (donuts, bagels, cheerios, mini-donuts...)?
Where the Hell are my keys? If God really does roll dice, couldn't he just
make it come up seven every time? Why is my monitor green? Where does Canada
get off?
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NEXT WEEK
Matt received a letter this week from the witless idealists over at
Working Assets Long Distance which begins: "Dear Matthew C Holohan, WE
MISS YOU!" Matt is planning on writing a sharp-tongued response, which
he just may include in next week's report if the Australians haven't killed
him by then.
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And then he went to bed.
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Matt Holohan
Honorable Founder
The Matt Holohan Club
[email protected]
www.geocities.com/CollegePark/Den/6234/matt.html