For the record, I actually did Unsolved Mysteries before.
I was on Oprah yesterday. I'm usually horrible in interviews, which is why I didn't tell anybody but Zach that I was going to be on, and I was. Somewhere between me forcing Oprah to take a shot of tequila with me, reaffirming my no deodorant policy, my announcement that I'd like fourteen children, and my pickle and ice fixations, he probably should have started to rethink this decision of his to associate with me, but he didn't. I gave Oprah a tour of my house in LA, which is invariably less cool than Cribs, but I still maintain my house is way nicer than Cam'ron or Mos Def. I don't have five cars with big speakers and hydraulics or anything, but I do have a tiki bar and a sauna and an aquarium bigger than the one that was in the first Deuce Bigalow movie. The dog came out, too, and I sang, so I am really glad everybody missed it.
This is the best part. Once upon a time I promised a girl that I would write about this, but I can't say that I ever actually thought that I would. Now, I have three vices in my life. The very first is him, as you all could anticipate, football the second, weed and booze the third.
Let me take you back to the night of October 25, 1999. It was the year of Edtv, and I think my ego had swelled twice the size of my body in that year alone. People were starting to recognize me as Matthew McConaughey and not Hey You and I was coming into a lot more money that I'd ever been used to. So this particular night, I had Cole over, had more than a few beers, more than a few bowls, and I got the brilliant idea, since there wasn't anything else to do, to start playing my bongos sometime close to midnight.
At the time, I had a lot of older neighbors, people with kids, and had I been lucid, I probably would have remembered to shut the window before I decided to to the island version of Jack and Diane, you know what I'm saying? It was hot for October, hotter still because of all the alcohol I'd been drinking. I got another brilliant idea. This one was a classic, let me tell you. Instead of wasting away my hard-earned dollars on a too-high air conditioning bill, I thought, why not get rid part of the problem?
You can ask anybody who knows me, I'm the least self-conscious person alive. I know that something like eighty-five percent of all people are, but I guess I never had it ingrained into my head. Here's an example: My sweet mama, she was the first person I called when I got Sexiest Man Alive. Her reaction wasn't, "Matthew, why did they pick you?" it was, "It's about damn time." Honestly, it's a wonder I'm not completely insufferable, although I do possess my moments. It shouldn't come as any shock to you that I had absolutely no qualms about getting naked, even with Cole in the room. You could elaborate if you'd like, and imagine a scenario a lot less innocent than it was, but that's what happened.
There was apparently a knock on the door. The music was so loud that I couldn't hear it. I had forgotten to lock the door, so these officers came in without invitation. They handcuffed Cole. I was just pissed because they'd just walked right into my house. It might have been fine if they hadn't done that, if they had cracked open a door instead. So they had Cole in handcuffs and I was running off at the mouth like I'm so prone to do, and eventually they saw the bong on the table and arrested me in full nudity.
True story. I've got the mug shot to prove it.
And, I think that you're going to enjoy this part. You know how on Unsolved Mysteries or America's Most Wanted, they hire crappy actors to portray real-life murders and things? I can do one better. I present to you this, the McConaughey Arrest. It's not real footage like Cops or anything, but it's worth the watch to see the (scale) representation of my puppet penis.
Outside the McConaughey residence. The officer knocks, but gets no answer.
"Babalu, Babalu." Hahjsahfkjahsfkja.
"My name is Matthew McConaughey, fucker."
Resisting arrest.
You know what the very worst is? This might not be the worse thing I've ever done. After this whole incident, I decided to brace all the bad press. After all, it wasn't like it was a sex tape. I'm just a pot-smoking nudist. There has to be many more people who can relate. So sometime over the next year, I was on The Daily Show. This might not sound like anything bad, but I felt it very important for me to talk about my goat William having sex. This might not have been so bad if it weren't for the fact that I thought it was necessary to pantomime the act and give a highly interesting account of what the goats did with their fluids after.
You asked for it, I hope you regret it. This is might be my worst post. It's definitely my most disgusting one. Hi, nobody ever interview me again, goodbye.
This is the best part. Once upon a time I promised a girl that I would write about this, but I can't say that I ever actually thought that I would. Now, I have three vices in my life. The very first is him, as you all could anticipate, football the second, weed and booze the third.
Let me take you back to the night of October 25, 1999. It was the year of Edtv, and I think my ego had swelled twice the size of my body in that year alone. People were starting to recognize me as Matthew McConaughey and not Hey You and I was coming into a lot more money that I'd ever been used to. So this particular night, I had Cole over, had more than a few beers, more than a few bowls, and I got the brilliant idea, since there wasn't anything else to do, to start playing my bongos sometime close to midnight.
At the time, I had a lot of older neighbors, people with kids, and had I been lucid, I probably would have remembered to shut the window before I decided to to the island version of Jack and Diane, you know what I'm saying? It was hot for October, hotter still because of all the alcohol I'd been drinking. I got another brilliant idea. This one was a classic, let me tell you. Instead of wasting away my hard-earned dollars on a too-high air conditioning bill, I thought, why not get rid part of the problem?
You can ask anybody who knows me, I'm the least self-conscious person alive. I know that something like eighty-five percent of all people are, but I guess I never had it ingrained into my head. Here's an example: My sweet mama, she was the first person I called when I got Sexiest Man Alive. Her reaction wasn't, "Matthew, why did they pick you?" it was, "It's about damn time." Honestly, it's a wonder I'm not completely insufferable, although I do possess my moments. It shouldn't come as any shock to you that I had absolutely no qualms about getting naked, even with Cole in the room. You could elaborate if you'd like, and imagine a scenario a lot less innocent than it was, but that's what happened.
There was apparently a knock on the door. The music was so loud that I couldn't hear it. I had forgotten to lock the door, so these officers came in without invitation. They handcuffed Cole. I was just pissed because they'd just walked right into my house. It might have been fine if they hadn't done that, if they had cracked open a door instead. So they had Cole in handcuffs and I was running off at the mouth like I'm so prone to do, and eventually they saw the bong on the table and arrested me in full nudity.
True story. I've got the mug shot to prove it.
And, I think that you're going to enjoy this part. You know how on Unsolved Mysteries or America's Most Wanted, they hire crappy actors to portray real-life murders and things? I can do one better. I present to you this, the McConaughey Arrest. It's not real footage like Cops or anything, but it's worth the watch to see the (scale) representation of my puppet penis.
Outside the McConaughey residence. The officer knocks, but gets no answer.
"Babalu, Babalu." Hahjsahfkjahsfkja.
"My name is Matthew McConaughey, fucker."
Resisting arrest.
You know what the very worst is? This might not be the worse thing I've ever done. After this whole incident, I decided to brace all the bad press. After all, it wasn't like it was a sex tape. I'm just a pot-smoking nudist. There has to be many more people who can relate. So sometime over the next year, I was on The Daily Show. This might not sound like anything bad, but I felt it very important for me to talk about my goat William having sex. This might not have been so bad if it weren't for the fact that I thought it was necessary to pantomime the act and give a highly interesting account of what the goats did with their fluids after.
You asked for it, I hope you regret it. This is might be my worst post. It's definitely my most disgusting one. Hi, nobody ever interview me again, goodbye.