It's May, folks. If you're keeping track, that's the fifth month of the year. And now that the weather is somewhat decent, it's time to move the cars, crank open the garage door and have a good ol' fashioned garage sale. In all honesty, I'm not a huge garage sale fan because they kind of suck whichever side of the garage-retail equation you happen to find yourself on. Sure, I enjoy a deal and I like making a little extra scratch, but there are other ways to do that aside from letting strangers root through your old belongings. I find the whole thing too personal. If you go to a thrift store, those clothes previously belonged to someone else, but they're not actually in the store with you, standing over your shoulder while you peruse. I don't like the idea of people going through my stuff. I'm pretty judgmental. When I go to a garage sale, I critique things like DVD collections. "They actually spent money to own Disney's John Ca

Dear Mrs. Beckinsale, I heard about the recent end to your relationship with a certain television funny man . I'd prefer to not mention names, as the last thing I'd want from my correspondence is to reopen old wounds. The end of a relationship is always a sad occasion, even for those of us that were privately hoping this would happen the entire time. Still, I wouldn't wish this sort of pain upon my worst enemies... except Keith. That dude sucks. Maybe you can take a vacation back to your homeland, the United Kingdom, to clear your head. Did you know it's an island? I did. I won the Geography Bee when I was in middle-school, so I have a pretty good idea where stuff is. By the way, do you know what an "isthmus" is? I think Panama is one, but I'm not 100% sure. Although I have never visited the many isles of your homeland, I have dined on fish & chips at the EPCOT's UK Pavilion, so I'd say that counts for something. Why do you guy

Previously on this blog, I talked about Marty . If you didn't click on that link to read a past blog (c'mon, help a brother out), Marty is a robot that has been deployed to Giant grocery stores to identify spills and alert the proper officials. At first I was concerned. I've seen enough movies to know that free-roaming robots usually turn to murder at some point, and once they figure out murder, it's just a couple months until they enslave the human race. However, I've put all of those concerns to rest, now that I have had my own Marty encounters. Marty is non-threatening. His tall stature should cause alarm, however, I felt none even when all I had to defend myself with was a small plastic bag containing two limes. Limes I would then be taking home, slicing up, and popping into some Mexican beers, because it's cerveza SZN, ya'll. But I digress... It should be known that where I currently live is polluted with old people. I mean that in th

Imagine for a second that you're a show-runner for a sitcom. You need to fill a 22-episode series order, but your Harvard-educated team of writers have only given you 21 usable episode ideas? What are you to do? Two words: Clip Show. I love a clip show. Why come up with any new ideas when you can simply recycle some old ones that you know worked out in the past? You can come up with a thin plot consisting of interstitials that run between clips, or not. Why? Because Clip Show! So what better way to celebrate 100 blogs here on The Matt Reigle Files than by revisiting some of the blogs that made you laugh, made you cry, and made you wonder why you were even visiting this blog in the first place. So, without further ado (as the French say), let's take a stroll down memory lane... Something To Keep In Mind When Searching For a Lost Dog The blog that started it all. I wrote it for a creative writing class, and decided that it was good enough to be post

I know some people may have found the headline of this blog utterly shocking. Charcuterie, for whatever reason, has a lot of fans.  I am not one of them. If you don't know what charcuterie is, I envy you. It's a total scam. You throw some meat and cheese on a board and I'm supposed to be impressed? Well, I will have none of that! I bid you good day, sir! via GIPHY I have no problem with any of the ingredients (a term I use loosely in this case) independently. I enjoy some cured meats (I'm from Lebanon, for the love of God. Bologna is what put us on the map, son), and who, aside from the severely lactose intolerant, doesn't enjoy a good cheese? What I have a problem with is the plank of wood that it's served on. Call me crazy, but I'd prefer not having to pull splinters out of my mouth because some hipster thought it'd be cool to serve me food on a board that was reclaimed from an old barn, My theory as to why this phenomenon st

I can divide my life into two distinct eras. "Pre-Me Being Aware Of What A Cassowary Is," and "Post-Me Being Aware Of What A Cassowary Is." A cassowary is a flightless, emu-like bird with what are essentially knives on its feet, that is known by the ominous nickname, "The Most Dangerous Bird In The World,"  actually killed a man . It  happened in Florida too. I got out of there just in time. via GIPHY I woke up on Saturday morning in the "Pre-era" and am now living through a perpetual state of fear in the "post-era." Anyone that knows me is aware that I'm afraid of two things; inter-personal relationships and birds. I'll be honest about the bird thing. While the fear is legit, the worst I thought could happen is that a bird would stand on my arm with it's creepy, spindly, mini-dinosaur legs. Or maybe, if shit got real, a quick peck to the eye with that weapon we call a "beak." But the cassowary cha

In about a month-and-a-half, I will have my five-year high school reunion. Honestly, I didn't realize that five years constituted a reunion. I always thought you needed to have a couple grey hairs and an ill-advised first marriage that has since fallen apart before you started clamoring for some semblance of your bygone high school days, and it was my impression that that took at least ten years post-graduation. Regardless, a class reunion means that I'll have the opportunity to lie to my former classmates about what I've been up to for the past five years. This scenario has played out in every sitcom ever made. A character has to attend their high school reunion, but is embarrassed by what they haven't accomplished so they make up a story; a story which is typically foiled, and hilarity ensues. I've always wanted to do this and now is my first chance, so let's explore some possibilities. All-Star Cricket Player "Is anyone here familiar with