A little about the creator of Superbad Dad, J. Matthew:
Matthew grew up in Northeastern Pennsylvania, in a small rural town named Berwick, home of the perennial National Football champion Bulldogs. Matthew was the oldest of five kids, but the last of the five to hit puberty. He was bullied in Junior High School by football players that were twice his size, and also by his little brother… who was also twice his size. He survived the years of bullying by hiding out in the school lockers that the football players locked him in.
In high school, Matthew developed new tactics to avoid the bullies. He joined the track team and became one of the best distance runners in the state. If the football players could be evaded for the first 40 meters of an attack, he could probably outrun them long enough for puberty to kick in so that he could fight them off with his hideous acne and backne. Matthew also used his razor sharp comedic wit to mouth off to the bullies whenever a teacher was around to protect him from physical retribution. Soon Matthew learned that his comedic timing was a good way to get noticed by girls, or at least the four girls in the school who weren’t obsessed with the football players. One of those girls was a beautiful little blonde pixie whom fell for Matthew and whom Matthew fell for even harder before she left Pennsylvania for Disney World so she could earn a living as Cinderella before eventually moving back to Pennsylvania to become Matthew’s little brother’s wife, because that’s the kind of town they lived in.
After high school, Matthew got a partial track scholarship to a Catholic school in Pittsburgh called Duquesne University. Matthew had been an altar boy for most of his life. He was a devout Catholic and he was a virgin because if he knew only one thing in life, he knew that God was highly pre-occupied with what teenagers did with their genitals, and pre-marital sex was a mortal sin that was punishable by life in hell. However, in the summer before college, Matthew began to question the virginity pledge he took as the proud youth group leader at his church.
Later that summer, on the long drive to school, Matthew had an intervention with himself. He sat himself down and told himself that it was very possible that he might not fall in love and get married until he was twenty five or so, and given that he was currently masturbating three times a day, that would be more than 6,000 masturbation sessions before marriage. He knew that God didn’t like masturbation either, so he made a deal with God that he’d have pre-marital sex once a week in exchange for not ever masturbating again.
Matthew was exercising good logic.
He would do well in academia.
Matthew’s parents dropped him off at school at noon-thirty.
Matthew lost his virginity exactly two hours later and seven minutes later, in his dorm room, with a cheerleader, while twenty guys stood outside his door, shooting bottle rockets off under his door that flew around his room, exploding.
Matthew literally saw fireworks when he lost his virginity, and then he emerged from his room to a chorus of praise and high-fives.
Don’t feel too bad for the cheerleader. She also received a chorus of praise and high-fives, she was instantly the most popular girl in the freshman dorms, and she was very happy about it.
Matthew lost his virginity again, three hours later, to another girl. In fact, he lost his virginity seven times, to seven different girls, in the first ten days of school.
And he masturbated.
He had fractured his agreement with God, but he decided that an eternity in hell might actually be worth it.
Sex was pretty cool.
For the next decade, Matthew did little except eat raw meat, exercise, consume massive quantities of alcohol, experiment with drugs, run his mouth, and chase women. Mostly, though, it was all about women. Matthew was a late bloomer, he was beginning to develop a semi-decent skill set in the art of women, and he had a lot of lost time to make up for.
Matthew graduated college, spent a few years traveling the country, and then he settled down in California. He dabbled in acting, he discovered art, he found hallucinogenics, he surfed, he became one of those guys that uses the word “profound” more than he should. He dated a woman twenty years older than him, he dated a college freshman, he kissed a movie star, he discovered Asians and Mexicans and black women, he met a professional figure skating Armenian, he fell in love, got engaged, and then she opened her serpent mouth and devoured his soul in one gulp, like a starved anaconda taking down a goofy, stinky monkey, for it’s first meal in months. She tricked him into getting a tramp stamp tattoo of her likeness on his back, she hollowed out his insides, robbed him of all his dignity (and money), and then she left him for a legitimate bonafide rock star.
She also ended up in the FBI witness protection program, but that’s another story for another kind of website.
Matthew met another girl that he worked with. She was an exotic singer and he fell in love the first time she sang to him. She wrote and recorded an entire album all about him and it exploded his heart into a million bloody shards of passion. She was also a Wiccan and later confessed to him that she’d tricked him into falling in love with her by stealing some of his hair, wrapping it around a doll, peeing on it, and burying it twelve inches deep in her yard, for three days.
So that was cool.
The beautiful Wiccan singer asked Matthew to go away for a weekend, he couldn’t, she went anyway, when he arrived at work on Monday, she was showing wedding pictures to her co-workers of the guy she’d met and married over the weekend.
Matthew still doesn’t know if she stole this guy’s hair.
Matthew spent the next six months trying his very best to kill his liver, but it didn’t work and then he met another girl when he was at his lowest point. She was the daughter of one of his home health patients. She was exotic and full of magnetic kinetic energy, she was black and she was exciting, and their chemistry was undeniable. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, nor she him. On his way out of her father’s house, he asked the girl for her number.
Halfway down the block, he called her.
They went on a date.
Standing at the hostess table, waiting to be seated, he told her that he was going to implode if he didn’t get to kiss her.
He moved in.
She stopped him.
She told him she was a lesbian.
He was somewhat confused but mostly he was just dizzy from overpowering feelings of raw love, so he told her again that had to kiss her.
He kissed her.
It was the most intuitive and easy decision he’d ever made.
She kissed him back.
They were amazing together.
When they were together.
Which was rare.
She lived three hundred miles away in San Francisco, she was questioning her sexuality, she was confused… she left the door open…
Enter The Bride:
In 2004, Matthew took exactly one step into a local bar in Hermosa Beach, one that was famous for girls getting drunk, showing their tits while riding a mechanical bull, when a beautiful female specimen aggressively grabbed his arm, and demanded-
“Buy me a drink.”
This Filipina was the most perfect physical specimen the boy had ever laid eyes on. She had a flawless figure and an incredible smile that lit up the dank bar like a supernova. If she was half as interesting as she was beautiful, he’d fall in love for sure.
As it turns out, she was not.
Not even 25%.
At least not on their first date.
Their first date was miserable. They went out for sushi and she had nothing to talk about. It seemed he was boring her.
After dinner, he tried to get her home as fast as he could so that he could drop her off and they’d never be forced to waste time together again. However, on the drive home she made him pull over so she could “go pee.”
A year later, he learned that she didn’t have to pee; she had explosive diarrhea. The sushi had not agreed with her.
Upon arriving at her apartment, he fully intended to walk her to her door and leave. But then, something weird happened. He walked her to the door, and then, much to his surprise, she invited him in. Matthew has a penis, and the two of them aren’t always on the same page. On this occasion, his penis won the conflict, accepting her invitation to go inside.
Soon, they were making-out on her couch. Her lips were full and soft and plush and warm and comfortable and right. They were like freshly baked bread, buttered to perfection. The make-out session quickly escalated, and he was certain they were heading for some fervent love making. But then, out of nowhere, she put on the brakes and asked him to leave.
As it turns out, the explosive diarrhea was making a comeback. However, all he knew at the time was that he’d rounded second base and had been thrown out at third.
After this, Matthew had to see her again because he had to have sex with her. Not having sex with her was not a legitimate option. Matthew wasn’t mentally prepared to move forward with the rest of his life until he’d finished what was started. Most likely, if too many nights passed by before they had sex, Matthew would spontaneously combust like famous Italian knight, Polonus Vorstius. News of Matthew’s spontaneous combustion would break his mother’s heart, and Matthew loves his mother, so he couldn’t do that to her. To prevent breaking his mother’s heart, he knew he had to pursue the beautiful and boring Filipina with every tool in his arsenal, until she gave him that forbidden fruit.
Over the course of the next month, they spent a great deal of time together and Matthew found something new and fascinating about her every time. Before he knew it, he was falling in love. However, he still hadn’t scored. So, on November 30th, 2004, a month after meeting her, he went to her house to pick her up for their seventh date. When he arrived, her sister let him in and told him that she was showering. Determined, Matthew marched down the hall, undressing as he walked, and he entered the shower.
Luckily, her sister didn’t call the police.
The Bride and Matthew have been together, in love, ever since, and they’ve become best friends in the process. They got “married” in 2007. However, they were never actually married in the “traditional” sense.
And by “traditional,” I mean “legally.”
After a casual beach wedding The Bride and Matthew each assumed the other had mailed in the marriage certificate.
They were wrong to assume.
Despite the fact that their marriage isn’t actually legitimate, they make a pretty good team. Matthew makes a good living and spends lots of time with the children, and The Bride puts up with his bull-shit and shows him her boobies.
They make a good team, but if his bull-shit ever gets old, or her titties ever get saggy, it shouldn’t be too hard to get out of it, since they aren’t actually married.
There’s just the issue of who gets the kids.
Matthew knows which one he wants.
There was a lot of other stuff, there were two books published, there was a sad attempt at learning guitar, a brief business venture in something called Margarita Wrestling, there was drug experimentation, there was the amassing of seven homes and subsequent loss of all seven, there was a night in jail, there was rock climbing and 7 neck surgeries and adventures all over the world and good times and bad times and scary times and times in jail and there was debauchery and sex and run-ins with celebrities and fights and there was work and tragedy and all kinds of things…
But at the end of it all, there were two boys, the two biggest loves of Matthew’s entire life.
The Dad is a regular guy like any other. Some of his life experiences have been different, but in the end, he’s a dad who loves his kids above all else. What makes the The Dad different than other dads it the way he does dadding. The Dad grew up sheltered, he was a late bloomer, and he learned all real world things later life later than most kids. Most of what he knows was learned through trial and error.
A lot of errors.
Trial and error may be the best way for a kid to learn, however, it also doesn’t hurt to give your kids some tools. The Dad is always 100% honest with his kids. When they ask a question, he answers, he teaches, he doesn’t let society dictate what is and what is not appropriate for his kids to know. He wants to arm his kids with information and knowledge and help them build a good moral compass so they can make their own decisions rather than telling them what they can and can’t do at all times. He believes children need to develop their own decision making skills.
The Dad never says “because I said so” and The Dad never says “do what I say, not what I do” because The Dad hated when those things were said to him.
The Dad doesn’t believe the conventional idea that you can’t be your kids best friend and also his father.
The Dad is a strong disciplinarian and a teacher and tries to be a role model, but he and his kids also cut loose and have a metric fuck ton of fun together.
If you can’t have fun with your kids and enjoy the ride, what then, really, is the point of having them?
In the end, they’ll probably grow up just as fucked up as every other kid ever, and they’ll probably end up resenting their parents the same as every other kid ever, but so far, so good. Stay tuned…
Brent is an uber-talented artist and animator and overall affable guy. He brings the creative eye and direction to Superbad Dad, and he’s the sex symbol of this dynamic duo.
Brent also hails from the small town of Berwick, Pennsylvania. A few decades ago a couple little boys went to kindergarden, scared to leave their Mommies, and by the end of the day they were going home as best friends. Brent and Matt were each other’s first friend. Matt will forever be grateful to Brent for adorning upon him the nicknames hop-a-long and Teenie Peenie, both of which stuck with him through high school like the genital warts he never caught because virgins can’t catch genital warts. Matt would like you to believe his virginity was a result of the cruel nicknames, but Brent will tell you it was because Matt didn’t hit puberty until he was twenty-four. After high school the two lost track of each other for a couple decades while they pursued personal passions. Years later, by pure fate, the two of them found themselves in California, again united by a commonality… fatherhood. Matt, father to two young boys, and Brent, father to three dogs with a total five eyes between them.
And don’t tell Brent that his dogs aren’t his children, because they are, so fuck you.
Being over forty, and single is hard and it can be lonely and depressing, and if a man chooses to lick his dog in its mouth and call it his child, that’s his own fucking business, so fuck off with your “dogs aren’t children” bull-shit.
So, there it is, the product, the team, the directionless direction of this website. We hope you like it and visit frequently, and we’re prepared to knock your socks off with our funny little animated short series in 2018. We think it’s going to be pretty good, but if you see if and think it sucks, that’s just because we’re artists and you aren’t intelligent enough to comprehend the massive brilliance of our creative masterminded baby, spawned from literally minutes and minutes of passionate blood, grit and sweat, and a splash of semen.
Or maybe you’re right and it sucks. Either way, stay tuned.