Hello loyal ohsolovely readers, I’m Matt from A View From 5280ft. I’m here to fill some space while Jamie is doing her thing at BlogHer as you all probably know by now.

I feel privileged that I was even asked to post here. Although, those who know me know that I am sometimes a foul mouthed, drunken, self centered jerk. So I might not fit in with the mantra here but here is my attempt at a softer post.

I wasn’t always a jerk. I was a nice kid. A kid who had big dreams…not about being rich, but dreams of being heavyweight champion of the world.

My favorite movie as a kid was Rocky. The very first Rocky Balboa, before Mr. T, the Russian and Tommy Gunn.  My dad bought me the VHS and I would watch it every single day. It was a brilliant movie. A story about a no one who, by way of his nickname got a chance to fight the one and only, Apollo Creed.

What I love about the movie is that it wasn’t a fairy tale. Rocky lived in a dump, smoked cigarettes, could hardly read and lost his one shot at the heavyweight title. Realistic.

I loved the movie so much, I used to throw punches when Rocky threw punches, go down when Rocky went down and I would even tell corny jokes all the time. My dad also bought me a pair of Sugar Ray Leonard gloves and a mouthpiece so that when I watched my hero, I could pretend I was truly him.

In some ways, I will always look up to Rocky and there will always be a part of me who feels like I am the heavyweight champ.

Don’t I look like a fucking champ to you?