AT THE TIME I WAS GIVEN THE ASSIGNMENT TO INTERVIEW MATT BRODE, I WAS MENTALLY AND PHYSICALLY INCAPABLE OF TAKING ON ANY TASK OF RELATIVE IMPORTANCE. THE TRUTH IS, I HADN’T LEFT MY HOUSE FOR SIX STRAIGHT DAYS. I SLEPT IN, ATE ICE CREAM FOR BREAKFAST, VIEWED THE FINEST OF INTERNET PORNOGRAPHY AND ATE PRESCRIPTION VICODIN LIKE THEY WERE LITTLE PEANUT FILLED M&M’S.  MY GIRLFRIEND CALLED IT DEPRESSION.  I CALLED IT A GENEROUS HELPING OF HEAVEN, UP UNTIL I HAD TO INTERVIEW MATT BRODE.

                  I was obviously distracted from reality, so conducting an interview with a real human being was going to be difficult. I didn’t have any questions ready for Matthew, but I was certain that the whole thing would be cake.  After all, I did know all about Brode’s past. You see, a few years back, Matt was on everyone’s ‘budding angel list,’ and checked off as skating’s next big thing. But after Matt’s sponsors either ceased to exist or made team cuts, the industry sort of forgot about ol’ Matty.
                  I remember pondering the marvelous texture of Oreo cookies when I dialed Matt’s number.  As the phone rang, an immediate feeling of terror surged through my entire body.  What if Matt knew what I looked like on the other end of the line?  A professional journalist, half-naked and heavily medicated for no reason at all.  I didn’t have time to contemplate the “what if’s?” because the steady ring was cut short by a voice on the other end.  It was Matt.  Put on the spot, I whispered internally, “Come on Jay-Jay, pull it together.  Let’s make Q&A history with this one!”
                  It was go time and without hesitation or even thinking for that matter, I fired off my first question.
                  “If you were forced at gunpoint to eat the ass of one pro skater, who’d it be?” I confidently pledged.
                  “What?!” said Matt.  “I don’t know, probably a girl skateboarder”
The painkillers were making a fool of me. I wasn’t quite sure if that horrible question came from me or Matt.  Just in case it was Matt who asked me the question, I answered him as accurately as I could.
                  “Well, I’m not gay or nothin’ but if it were my life or some ass-eating, I’d go with Og de Souza, the dude who’s got those baby legs and sits on his board.  I figure the smell of griptape would camouflage the stank of his ass.  This way I could daydream about skating while licking his little briefcase,”
                  “Ah, yeah,” suspiciously answered Matt.
                  I wasn’t sure what I was talking about.  I was rambling semi-incoherently.  But overall I was pleased that my words had surfaced without any apparent slurring.  
                  It was obvious that I couldn’t be trusted behind this delicate wheel of questioning. I quickly resorted to a little journalistic magic trick that Migdol suggested I try on Matty. 
                   “Ahhhhh, let’s just forget it, Matt.  How about some word association?” my pronunciation awkwardly sticking together. 
                  “All right,” he said.
                   Ok, good.  I was getting back on track now.  I was going to grab this interview by the balls once and for all and show Mr. Brode that I could handle this thing like a pro.  I proceeded with some psychological style one-word questioning.

Good company: Girl and Chocolate.

Caribbean Queen: What the heck is that?

 Tom Cruise-themed bar mitzvah:  I don’t know.

Corey Duffel: A gnarly rail skateboarder.

Jason Dill’s an Oompa Loompa: I don’t know what you mean.

The motherfucking Muska: Still skating.

I quickly lost interest in the interview altogether and became fixated on the idea of eating some Taco Bell.  There was a long silence for a good 30 seconds.  I made a farting noise as an audible test, to see if Matt was still on the line.  He was. 
“I have to go Matt,” I blurted out as if I had just shit my pants.
It was obvious that he could see directly into the cavernous center of my pathetic, emotional state. I wished him good luck in life and hung up the phone, fully aware that I had just conducted the worst interview ever.  I celebrated my failure by making the tastiest grilled cheese sandwich ever. If it weren’t for Matt, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have thought to make that sandwich.  Thanks Matt, that shit was dope.

Captions:
FRONTSIDE FLIP IN FAKIE NOSE GRIND, SWITCH180 OUT.
FRONTSIDE HEEL FLIP TO TAILSLIDE, TO SWITCH KROOKS. DAMN.