I Should Have Known.

My sincere apologies go out to all of my blog viewers. I feel like I have failed you all by not updating every 2 days. I have truly been so busy that I have contemplated quitting school and quitting my job and spending the rest of my life eating puppies and kittens while drawing caricatures of old women at a county fair.

Well, I wasn't going to post tonight. That was until I heard a knock on my door. I didn't think that there would be a legion of flying monkeys waiting on the other end. I should have known... Well, my brother has been obsessing over this blog, and apparently he has gotten furious at the fact that I haven't updated it in a while. I don't know where he got the flying monkeys... I am guessing they lived in the forest of what we call "Aaron's hairy back". Just a guess though. I'm pretty sure that this is exactly what it looked like from his end:

So needless to say, I will retaliate (There is a good chance that I will outline my plans of retaliation in my next post). I'm just sick of Aaron taking advantage of me in every way.

So, I had an interesting experience on Sunday. Apparently, I am what most people would call a flaming-homosexual-dude-magnet. I mean, it's just about getting ridiculous these days. It seems that I can't step out of the front door without a gay man telling me freaky things like "I want to be your first kiss" or "let's go cook a gourmet dinner together". Well, at any rate, back to the story.
Well, I am with my good friend, Chelsea Martin (see post #1 for a little bit of background there...). We are at the Easton Mall doing some sale shopping. Come to think of it, before I continue, I want to clear something up...a personal view, if you may.

I was reading the Bible the other day and I found something rather startling: According to the Scriptures, Abercrombie and Fitch is, in fact, the dwelling place of those who perished in the firey destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. As you may remember, Abraham found only one man worthy of being spared. His name was Lot. The rest were obliterated. Their souls now freely roam Abercrombie and Fitch. Additionally, the actual gateway to Hell is located somewhere in the men's section near the jeans.

Just wanted to make sure you are well-informed. Tim Lahaye, one of the authors of the Left Behind series, told me today on the phone that he is revising all of his books to accomodate my new findings.

Well, that aside...

So, we find ourselves at the Express store at Easton. I glance into the store, and see that they are having an "END OF THE SEASON FINAL CLEARANCE SALE!". Well, as soon as I saw the signs, three things happened simultaneously:

1. I started crying out of sheer joy.
2. I soiled myself not once, but twice.
3. I danced my pants off (see below for exactly what the situation looked like).

Well, as I danced my pants off, I must have gotten the attention of a certain man who worked at Express - as soon as I entered the store, this man (whom we will call Stephan from here on out. Please note, it is pronounced with emphasis on PHAN. Try saying it now...StePHAN.) approaches me and asks:

"Would you like me to help you find the right sizes?"

Well, of course I would. This guy most likely lives at Express - he probably knows the store as well as he knows every crevice of his chisled body (I will go ahead an apologize to any of the homo-sensitive men reading this post - particularly Aaron Huber and Chuck Norris).

I spend a good half hour looking through all of the clothes, while my helpful assistant gathers clothing for me and offers his opinions. Well, while I am off looking at jackets (or something along those lines) Stephan apparently approached Chelsea. I am later informed of the following dialogue:

Stephan: So, did he drag you along as his shopping buddy?
Chelsea: No, he didn't force me to shop with him, I came willingly.
Stephan: Oh that's good. So is he your boyfriend, or what?
Chelsea: Haha... No, we're friends.
Stephan: Even better!
(Stephan walks away, Chelsea realizes what's going on and hurries to me).

Chelsea pulls me aside, and askes me "do you know what is going on here?". Of course, I had no idea what she was talking about, and asked her to explain. She informed me that this man was actually hitting on me. Well, that is interesting. I thought that he just spent the last 40 minutes helping me shop because he loves clothes, not because he loves men.

Well, I got yelled at (by Chelsea) for leading him on... so that was one of the most twisted lessons I have learned in a while: "Don't lead a man on. It's just not nice".

I am quickly getting tired. Well, before I go, I want to inform you that I wrote a book. Go ahead and support me (and the $7 balance in my bank account) and purchase the book. Here is a picture of the cover - this will give you a good idea.

I apologize for mentally/emotionally scarring all of you.
Now that I have made a complete fool of myself...

I think I am going to go to sleep. Farewell my friends.

Rock and be Rocked.

Matt

I have been rocked. Hard.

This is going to be a post about things that rock me.
Before beginning, I will explain what it is like to be rocked:
- You know that feeling that you get when you just begin eating a big piece of pizza after being hungry for hours on end? That feeling is called "being rocked".

- After a huge burp, you've rocked not only yourself, but everyone around you.

- When you listen to an amazing song that you haven't heard in a long time (like Hanson's "Mmmbop") and you go totally crazy because of the sheer sweetness of the song, you've been rocked. Speaking of Hanson, get ready to be rocked.



I would definitely date the girl on the left.

Additionally, you are rocked when something crazy or life changing occurs in your life. Something crazy like wrecking your car, getting fired for committing a felony at the workplace, being punched in the face while sleeping, or finding out that you have an irreversible/untreated case of irritable bowel syndrome. So, that being said, being rocked can have both positive and negative connotations. But it is usually a good thing. I will make sure to distinguish between the two.

Anyway. You have got a pretty good idea of what it means to be rocked now, I believe.

So, things that have rocked me this week are as follows (I will also indicate the level of rockage from 1-5; 1 being quasi-rocked to 5 which indicates being rocked so hard that it causes severe instant mental retardation):


1. This week, I have had the opportunity to get to further develop relationships with some amazing individuals here in Columbus. These individuals are as follows (Please don't be offended if I don't list you. I mean seriously. You know I love you.):

• Brian Estabrook: This man, as I stated earlier, may as well be my father (no offense to my actual father, of course.). He smells of fresh roses and lavender. And his voice is about as pleasing as a good calf massage. He has enlightened me in many ways, and officially belongs on the list of people who have deeply affected my life as a Christian.
• My Brother, Aaron: He just left for Purdue again, but he is still in my heart. Talk about a great brother. The love we have for each other is so deep, it is almost unnatural. Okay, I take that back. It is definitely unnatural.
• Sarah Sweigard: She just left for Argentina. I never really got the chance to get to know her very well, until this past week. She's a wise woman of God, and I truly appreciate the advice and encouragement she offered me before she left for her missions trip. But I feel like she is only friends with me to use me. Hmmmmmmmm.
• Kelli Thompson: Courageous Kelli Thompson! She got 12 inches of her hair hacked off, and donated it. So I finally got to see the results of the minor hair trim, and I must say, I was very impressed - b-e-a-utiful. (by the way, this haircut rocked her...see how how this works?). That aside, I had a fantastic time hanging out with her at the LCT cast party. My only regret is that she had to depart and work on a research paper. Bahhhhhhhhh!

I am a lucky man. Listed above are 4 of those one-in-a-million people - down-right genuine people. Seeing as the chance of meeting a one-in-a-million person is obviously 1/1000000, simple mathematics reveal that I have basically defied probability. The chance of meeting 4 of these people is 1 out of 1 x 10^24. Wow. I was rocked just typing that. When considering the level of rockage, I was going to rate it as a 5, but I do not believe that I suffered mental damage, so I am forced to rate it as a 4. Level of Rockage: 4


2. I ate, for the first time in years, Count Chocula cereal. After eating it, I lost control of all bodily functions, out of sheer bliss. Needless to say, it was a mess, but it was definitely worth it. I also went permanently numb on the left side of my body, so it is safe to say that I suffered brain damage. Level of Rockage: 5


3. I saw someone on the street who looked exactly like Burt Reynolds. I went ahead and threw a huge piece of firewood at his knees. I was rocked. Level of Rockage: 3

4. I realized that I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life. I am deeply questioning the plans I have for my future, realizing that my plans are selfish and meaningless. I don't want to spend my life merely making money. That seems like such a bloody waste of a life that could be used solely to serve and spread the love and salvation of Jesus Christ. So I am deeply rocked. My soul is distressed. So on that note, I would greatly appreciate prayer and insight. Level of Rockage: 5

So wow. I think I just posted a huge post.
So keep rockin' my friends. Thanks for rockin' me.

In closing, I would like to report some tragic news.
It has been reported that Snuffleupagus, the huge hairy elephant of Sesame Street, has been murdered.

You can read the full article here.

Farewell.
-M@
May he rest in peace.

Here's a Jingle for Goldfish, I Wrote a Song for Goldfish...

So it's 12:47 Am, and I should not be staying up writing a stupid blog post. But I am. Why?

Well, this picture will explain it all.



Any idea who the fat man is? Neither do I. But, he has a beard and is holding possibly the largest goldfish I have ever seen. So why is this relevant to the post? It's because this man inspired me. He inspired me to never sleep again. Let me explain...
I was surfing the world wide web tonight, and came across this picture randomly. I fear that if I do as much as take a nap again, I will have the most horrific dream. A dream about a fat man with a monsterous goldfish. This is terribly frightning for two reasons...

1. Goldfish are supposed to be little, helpless fish living in a bowl. That thing is a beast. That thing could probably bite my face open (which could actually be a postitive step for my acne problem).

2. That man is far to happy about his catch. And he has some pretty sickening facial hair. The reason this is frightening is because my brother recently had some pretty traumatizing facial hair... would you want to be reminded of THIS every time you close your eyes?!



So that is why I am still awake at what is now 1:00 Am. That's right...what is happening to me is what is called sleep deprivation. Several things to keep in mind about not sleeping...all from experts on the subject such as The Hamburglar and Snuffleupagus.


1. "Sleep deprivation is highly unhealthy and should not be attempted under free will. Lack of sleep may result in irritability, blurred vision, slurred speech, memory lapses, overall confusion, hallucinations, nausea, psychosis, and eventually death." (Overall confusion and hallucinations are basically normal behavior for me...but wow...some of the other side effects - "death" - sound kind of serious. Hmm...So it looks like what I am doing could also be called "SUICIDE").

2. Total sleep deprivation in rats leads to death in around 28 days (Well, I'm not a rat, but I am guessing that this news still wouldn't be able to filed in the catagory of "good news".)

3. Sleep deprivation has been shown to increase a man's chance to develop "ED". (GREEEEAAATTTT....I will refrain from commenting on that one.)


So considering all of that information, I am going to go ahead and go to sleep... I will just have to deal with dreams of frightening gold-fishermen with big beards.

Annnnnnnnnnnddddddd out.

The First Second Post in Matt Huber's Blogging History

So, before blogging away, I have to take care of some essentials.
I would like to begin by apologizing to those offended by my previous post. I must say, I don't regret scribbling all of you out with red paint, but I do regret the fact that you are upset with me. I hope you don't take it personally. But seriously; I really enjoyed hanging out with all of ya, and look forward to next time (and believe me! There IS a next time in planning!).

So that aside...
I would like to preface this blog entry with a completely irrelevant picture. I decided that I may as well make a complete fool of myself before proceeding. So here we go.



Yeah. Lets just say that one gets really bored when cooped up in a house for too long.

ANYWAY.....

So I just realized that I have no idea what I am going to do once I am out of high school, which is a relatively big problem. But I prefer, for now, to just pray about it and not let the worry consume me. Just a little bit of a news update there.

Last night I had a great conversation with someone we all know as "Kelli Thompson". She's quite an impressive human being, to say the very least. God has really been blessing me with some really genuine, down to earth, and caring friends. So anyway...she just cut 12 inches off of her hair and donated it to Locks of Love. WOW! Needless to say, I am very anxious to see how it looks. That's a lot of hair. If I cut off 12 inches of my hair, I would have like negative 5 inches of hair, which doesn't make too much sense. GOOOO KELLI THOMPSON!!! CUT THAT HAIR!

I'm an idiot.

So I woke up this morning at 7:30 and I didn't really want to get up at that very second, so I decided to turn the alarm off and "just lie down" for a "couple" of minutes. Well a couple of minutes eventually turned into an hour. As I looked at the clock, I realized that I was running very late for my lecture at OSU. I got up, got my clothes on really quickly, and headed out to my car. Well, as I turned on good ol' State Route 62, I realized that I wasn't really running late, but in fact an hour early. IIIIDDDIIOOOTTTT! So I went back home immediately and ate some Special K and decided to waste my time blogging or whatever I am doing right now.

I really need to brush my teeth. My mouth tastes like...burning plastic. Or something along those lines.

So apparently Ariel Sharon is having a bad day, which is a shame. Doctors say that he has no chance of recovering. Upon hearing that this morning, I realized that I have a pretty good life. I mean...I have amazing friends, a guitar, a pretty neat-o big brother who has recently been emotionally annihilated and has decided to become a metrosexual, I have clothes on my back, and I don't have a massive hemorrhage in my brain. So I guess things are going better for me than they are for Mr. Sharon. I think that if Ariel Sharon and I played a basketball game, he would probably beat me though. But it would be close. Very close. Because I am known for my ability to tear out some sweet massive dunks. I'm not sure if you know this, but I once jumped right over this building (with a running start):



Which means my vertical jump is pretty much incredible.

Well...this has been an eventful, but remarkably stupid post. I can settle with that though.

And so it begins...

Well, there was a day when I promised myself that I would never have a blog; I simply wouldn't "lower myself" to posting information about my life and myself as a person on a public page on the internet. Well here I am. What has happened to me? Well, as far as I see it, there are three possibilities:
1. I have accepted blogs as an acceptable method of communication, and no longer view it as a pathetic waste of time.
2. I am currently posessed by a demon of some sort.
3. Brian Estabrook is my "Tiny Dancer". Hold me closer, tiny dancer...

Well, I am not quite sure what #3 has to do with anything, but I do know that Brian does have the uncanny ability to "bust a move".

There's a good chance that if nobody wants to marry me within the next 5 years, I will just go ahead and be adopted by Brian Estabrook, and become his son. My name would be Matthew Jacob Estabrook. I might even get really drastic and change my first name to something like Eduardo. Why Eduardo? Well, I'll let the following picture speak for itself.

Okay...this is a picture from this year's homecoming at my old friend's school. Her name is Chelsea Martin; she lives in Greenville, Ohio (near Dayton) and she's the girl standing next to me (this whole homecoming story is a long one, so I will refrain from telling it today). Well, right next to us are three of Chelsea's friends. They are very nice girls, but I scribbled them out because they aren't relevant to this post. NOW...the Venezuelan stud to the right...yeah...that's Eduardo. Holy crap. He makes us all look bad. AND...he can dance.

Enough said.

So Eduardo Jacob Estabrook it is.


Check it out...here's my current life lesson. God has really impressed the following verse upon my heart:

(Rom 15:1) We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves.

God really spoke to me through this... I used to be really weak in my faith, and altogether insecure about who I was - God has since given me an incredible security in Him and as a result given me some experiences that I can use to minister to others with.
I have been learning that we who are stong (in our faith, in our selves, or in any other way whether it be spiritually, socially, mentally or emotionally) have a responsibility to bear with ("bear with" properly means "to lift up" according to Barnes' commentary) their weaknesses and failings even when it means lifting them up at the cost of our own comfort and enjoyment.

Just think about it...good stuff.

Well there it is...the first post. It's a long one. May as well start it with gusto.
Farewell.