Matt's ham sandwich the mag of emails VOLUME 1, Number 4

Writer, Editor, Ham Sandwich Matthew Campbell and his holy trinity

Letter from the editor, writer, Ham sandwich. Erg to kill fading…fading…fading…RISING…fading…

Well it is almost Christmas and I know what is on all your little minds, and I have the answer to you question so now you all can relax. Yes I will be putting out a Christmas Eve edition of Matt's ham Sandwich. So now you all can sit comfortably and read as you roast chipmunks on an open fire. I know the next question your all asking. (Yes I know none of you really think this or really care but just humor me OK!!) "Matt why will you continue writing on you vacation?" I then say, "Aww little weeble girl. I write these things for my own mental health and your entertainment. After all this is a lot more legal then assault, and anally raping the elderly *shudder*. Now little weeble girl it is time for you to die. *Click* *BOOM!!*" Anyway there will be another exciting edition to come and it will actually have something to do with Christmas…probably. Well enjoy this issue.

~The Ham Sandwich, with extra mayo if you know what I mean.

Quotes!! Or What's your encore? Do you, like, anally rape my mother while pouring sugar in my gas tank?

FOR SHAME. No one even tried to guess the quotes for this week. It is a sad day. Well here are the answers.

"Here's to us poor schmoes, working for the man. Even if he is a hot, sexy female man."-Zapp Branagain, Futurama.

"You better take care of me, Lord. If you don't you're gonna have me on your hands"-Duke, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Well maybe the prizes aren’t good enough. No one seems to want the Slave Matt for a Day. This is a big hit to Matt's ego, or what's left of whatever ego he had. So we are taking that prize off the market. It may be brought back if people ask politely. Well this week I only offer one simple quote and the prize is a chicken nugget from McDonalds, or some equally cheap piece of fast food. Well here is the quote you must guess from:

"Give me some sugar baby."

That's it that’s all you have to guess. If you don't know where that quote comes from then I may have to re-educate you. Here's a hint. The movie is a bout an army, and it is constantly dark in the movie. It is so dark in the movie so much that the army is seen a lot in the darkness. Well good luck.

When to give that special girl a call and what to do on the first date, or " Hey, try not to suck any dick on the way through the parking lot!"

I am sure all you males out there (you males of the homosapien species, not you things currently being mailed to my elders laced with anthrax) have done step one of dating tips and are now A) Incarcerated B) dead in some ditch, at which point thank you especially for finding someway to read this C) Have actually got some girls number. If you picked "C" then please send me the name, number, and address of the girl. Don't worry I will not have sex with her using the same cavity you would like to fill, and hey if what you did actually worked then what are the odds that those cavities have not been filled many times before. That reminds me…note to self kill my dentist. Anyway now I will tell you when to call her and what to do on the first date. I know what you are say. "Matt. I got her number. She likes me. I need no more of your advice you pathetic no nothing, know it all." Fools!! Was it not I who got you in the door? Was it not I who showed you the way? Was it not I who bathed in the blood of the vanquished foe? I have gotten you this far, with out me you are nothing. Um...ahem…sorry about that. Just reliving my days as an alter boy (the funniest part about that sentence is the fact that it is true). Anyway I gain my knowledge from many reliable sources. "What's so unappealing about hearing your elderly father talk about sex? I had seeeeex." These sources have taught me what not to do and I will spread this knowledge to you.

More Dating tips or " Archie is NOT fucking Mr. Weatherbee!"

To show that I am not a plagiarist, to my friends at least I could care less about what I did in high school, I found this article at www.thespark.com. So I am giving credit where credit is due. (This Article has been modified. It has been formatted for content and to fit your email)

H ow to turn "Date" into "Mate"

By Christian Rudder, experimental physicist.

I know that, previously, I've been a world leader in sex prevention. But now that I'm 25, it's time I settle down from that high-flying life. I will now solve the time-honored problem of how to score. You'll find my proposed methodology, below. In the spirit of scientific camaraderie, I ask you to perform experiments of your own and aid my research. I have not yet had success with human subjects, though tests with mice have been quite encouraging.

The Setting:

Like any experiment, date-to-mate alchemy is greatly helped by the right environment. You should choose a spot where you and your girl (or guy) can comfortably get to know each other, ideally some place casual and not too noisy. Try a totalitarian futurescape. The relaxed dress code will set you both at ease. And if you get there after the plague/nuclear war/haywire mega-computer shit goes down (usually after 9pm), there'll be plenty of cozy quiet time for you two to flirt and, if all goes well, repopulate the earth in your image.

The Conversation:

If you think of a date as a journey, then the girl is a house way up on the hill. You'd like to enter this house because it is warm and might provide shelter from other houses who are stalking the earth looking for your blood. But the road leading up to it is confusing and fraught with danger! Luckily, conversation is a pair of magical shoes for navigating the treacherous terrain. If you don them and run around, you'll end up in the house for sure. They look like a pair of Nike double jumps for the late 80's. As you've no doubt heard, the most important part of being a good conversationalist is asking lots of questions. It's important to keep them open-ended, not just yes or no, so your date will have an opportunity to let her personality shine through. My own research had yielded these instructive examples:

WRONG: "You know what would really turn me on...you, turning me on. Got it?"

RIGHT: "You know what would really turn me on...you, turning me on. Wassup?"

Also, when you're talking, be careful not to come across like a macho Alpha Male type who's looking to spread his genes all in people's pools. That's a big turn-off for most girls, so don't be afraid to show your vulnerable side. My preferred method is to act like a Beta Male--a buggy stand-in for myself until the real me gets released.

Unfortunately, precious release is thus far unachieved.

Body Language, For When Your Mouth Is Full

First of all, you must make eye contact. If she has a glass eye, it's over right there.

Also, the physical distance you maintain between you and your date conveys a powerful non-verbal message. On the one hand, if you keep away, she'll think you're not interested. On the other, if you get too close, she'll worry you might try some shit. Think of yourself as the Death Star. Only from the right distance will you seem like a gentle moon. Find your date's comfort level and respect it. Finally, "closed" body language, like crossing your arms, subconsciously sends the message that you have something to hide--possibly a devious third arm. So make sure to maintain an "open" posture with your date to show her she has no third limbs to fear. Moving on. Be Gentlemanly

Old-fashioned courtship is a thing of the past, but, even now, judicious deployment of a traditional gesture or two will make your date feel special. For instance, holding the door for her will score big points. As with all of nature's creatures, the way you treat doors gives your girl a good idea about how you'll treat her. To send the right message, hold all doors for at least ten minutes after intercourse. Also, despite advances in technologies like feminism, the cold truth of dating is that you must pick up the tab. Women earn less than men for the same work, so men must pay more for the same meal. You'll look like a cheapskate if you don't offer to pay. She'll think it's chivalrous of you to extend that concept. Offer also to pay for her body, and make sure to tip generously. If she can't break a twenty, see if she has change for your face.

Finally whatever you do, don't pressure her to sleep with you. That's an absolutely steadfast rule. You'll probably have more success just, you know, charming her into it.

Don't worry folks this weeks edition of "This is your fucking life" is a lot more positive then last weeks. I mean waaaaayyy more positive. My writers and the Ham Sandwich and I found it very erotic even. The Sandwich lost its mayonnaise if you know what I mean, and many of my writers spewed a fluid resembling mayonnaise, but hardly as tasty, from their crotches. Needless to say this is a surprising change from last weeks edition. So read on and have a damp cloth, or whatever you use, handy.

This is your fucking life: sick and cynical excerpts by Penelope Steel-Street Volume 2

There is a resentful squeak in the cart I happened to grab: I always manage to grab those ones. It wails all around the store, but doesn’t really bother me: No one is in the grocery store at this hour anyway, so who would care. But nonetheless the cart reminds me how unhappy it is, especially as I round the corner to the fresh produce isle.

Today my shopping list gives me exotic and colorful fruit followed by some pretty weird stuff that doesn't seem to have any cook able purpose, but I must have wanted it for something, so I tote my cart about this way and that, grabbing for plump fruits, squeezing, smelling and testing for ripeness in whatever way necessary.

I am in front of the bananas when I finally notice that there is someone else in this section with me, and he happens to be staring right at me. I try to pay it no mind, and thoughtlessly look for my fruit without thinking anything about it. But I can't get past the knowledge that he IS looking at me, and I steal a glance up to check if he still is. His gaze hasn't moved; he's just behind a bin of tomatoes, all red and lush: A bright contrast to his hair, which is falling in front of his eyes as they rake over my body. All at once, I feel a ripple of excitement cover my skin. Goosebumps raise the hair on the back of my neck and I can feel my nipple tighten underneath my shirt.

Unwilling to see that I purposefully made eye contact with him, I dart my eyes down to the yellow bananas in front of me and try to concentrate on picking some out of the bin. But I find myself looking back up at this stranger to see if he's still watching me. Slowly, passing the apples, the pears, and the oranges, I let my eyes move along the top of hiss jeans, his jacket, up to his neck, and then into his eyes.

He doesn't smile, nor make any facial movements at first. He just stands and stares, and for some reason, I stare right back. I feel my hands move to the fruit in front of me, stroking the softness of it in my palms slowly. His eyes never leave mine as he reaches up and softly lays his fingertips on the surface of a smooth red tomato. Caressing it at first with only his fingertips, he slowly engulfs it in the fullness of his palms. I feel a heavy breath in my body flutter front my lips.

I grip the shaft of the banana firmly, rubbing the shaft in my hand, I reach can feel the heat burning between my thighs as I watch him fondle the fruit as if it were my body. I slowly reach my other hand down into the top of my skirt to touch myself while he watches me, I gasp as my fingers reach inside me to play between my lips as I close my eyes to enjoy the sweet sensations that I make with my fingers.

I feel a breath on my neck the same time I feel a foreign hand join mine between my legs, as I feel his hand take over. I open my eyes to see him standing in front of me, pants lain open, and him enormously hard, almost begging for me to touch it as he does to me.

As my stranger slips his fingers across my clit, I feel my body throb to have him inside me; I encircle him with my hand and gently begin to draw him towards my crotch with each stroke. His eyes are aflame with lust that is like tiny flames of desire, burning with the passion of fire. He takes my lips, grazing my tongue delicately hesitating before he pushes forth with both his tongue and his fingers, filling me with himself. I can barely stand this torture and I grip him tighter still, unrelenting in my tactile pumping. I can hear him moaning wordlessly as he slackens a little and relinquishes control for a moment, and I seize the moment to slip of the underwear beneath the soft fold of my skirt and draw him nearer to the moistness between my legs. He moans deeper feeling the heat inside me, and he pushes against it, through the fabric, I barely have time to push up the skirt before he pushes into me.

In unison we groan at the release of the other, gyrating hips to meet the other between thrust after wonderful thrust. I can feel his lips on my exposed nipples as he swings me around to rest me on the rail of the bin, pushing in and out of me with rhythm that makes me moan with delight. Wildly, we scour each other’s bodies, as our tempo and the tension in our bodies increases with every second, until it seams that we will die if we don’t climax. He bites at my neck sensuously, teeth gripping firmly around the muscle of my shoulders and jaw, and I bite at his throat playfully arousing him, making him keen lower and deeper.

I feel the sweat on our bodies moistens our clothing, and I can tell he is as close as I am. I gasp for him to cum, to cum inside me. Savagely, I grip him around the neck while I feel the palpitation inside me expand through my crotch and in to my fingers and toes. I draw in a deep high pitched breath as he tenses, a moan trickling from his lips while our muscles tighten furiously as we orgasm together on top of the bananas. His deep thrusts die and he lies still on top of me, both of us spent and exhausted together shamelessly atop the fruit that someone will buy and eat tomorrow.

He lift himself off and out of me, a smile I hadn’t seen before tonight on his lips. Sweetly he kisses my belly, and replaces my skirt as he helps me to my feet and kisses my lips softly. My eyes meet his again and he turns his head to the side, “Once more, in bed maybe this time?” I smile.

“So I guess I have your answer on dessert then, hmm?”

Well that’s it for this issue. I have got the next issue going so I will be writing over vacation. Once again please send your feedback. Write me about the issue, the articles, your life, how you hate me, whatever. I am always here waiting for themes for my next article. Well here is the typical thingamahooies,

Person of the Issue: TK Bostic. She actually deserved this Last issue but something happened. I can't remember what. All I know is I was tied naked to a chair when all of the sudden all these leather clad women entered the room and started beating me. I think I blacked out from shear ecstasy. Anyway, TK gets this prestigious award for giving me the idea for the title. I thought it was great. Thank you TK. (If you would like to know how to be person of the day then email Matt Campbell at killerbeast59@hotmail.com. You'll be happy you did.)

Song of the Issue: Oh My Goth, Razed in Black. I am currently editing a video to this song and you all may see it someday. Who knows? Anyway that’s why it’s the song of the issue.

Date: 12/17/01, Poor Mr. Weeble. We barely knew yee.

Drink of the Issue: Coconut Rum. Straight shots, just what I need to get through another week of work.