Stan Musial

Usually, I'm the type who remembers dates (and I don't mean the kind with women; I never had that many.) Case in point, I recall my grandma and mom got caught in a flash flood on September 22, 1993, and the previous two times I've vomited were October 14, 1994 and September 26, 2004.

The reason I mention this is that one of the coolest things that ever happened to me was actually one of the very things that I can't recall what day it was.

It was a weeknight during the summer in St. Louis, probably four or five years ago, and I had just finished getting a haircut at Hair Saloon for Men, a fine establishment. They offer you beer or soda when you arrive, and there are also complimentary shoeshines available. (I must admit, though, here in Kansas City I frequent Sports Clips, which is also a great place. I might even prefer it over Hair Saloon. True, Hair Saloon felt a bit classier {Sports Clips has more of a "Great Clips" feel to it}, but they have sports on TVs everywhere in the place and you can get the "MVP," which is the best haircut they offer, for $20, and it includes haircut, massaging shampoo, steaming face towel, leave-in conditioner, and a shoulder and neck massage {though it's with one of those rubber-knobbed things you always see people screwing around with at Brookstone, but still}. It's a solid, but affordable place.)

Anyway, the haircut wasn't the cool part of the story. I was departing the Saloon and approaching my car when an elderly voice asked me if I could help him put his wife's wheelchair into the trunk of their car. I'm a generally nice guy, so I said I would give him a hand. I looked at the man as I approached the wheelchair. It took me about half a second to realize who he was.

Though he was pushing 80, I knew it was Stan Musial, one of the greatest baseball players of all-time. (I guess if you aren't a sports fan, this might not be a big deal, but insert your favorite rap artist or architect into the story, and you'd get the idea). I literally have a hazy recollection of the next 30 seconds. I was in this shocked state because I was helping Stan Musial with his wife's wheelchair. I put it into the back of his Caddy and was prepared to go on my way.

Then Stan said to me, "Thanks, son; here you go." He had reached into a cardboard box in his trunk and tossed me an autographed baseball. (I guess he kept a boxful for every possible occasion, including the "thanks for putting my wife's wheelchair in the trunk after we ate dinner at this fancy restaurant" occasion). I said, "Thanks," and that was pretty much the only word I got out during the whole conversation.

Honestly, I don't care much for the autographed ball. I'm looking at it on the shelf as I write this, and the signature starting to fade. I'm sure it might be worth something if it were in better shape, but I don't think I'd ever sell it anyway. I appreciate the great story I can tell from time to time much more than any souvenir. Those two or three phone calls I made to the people I knew who would REALLY appreciate my run-in with Stan the Man right after it happened was the most fun I had had in a long time.

Here's a few Stan links, if you aren't too familiar with the guy.
Stan Musial at Wikipedia
his official site
his entry at baseballlibrary.com

phone scam?

Recently, I've been getting calls from a number that shows up as 604-550-7000.

I didn't recognize it, and when I did pick it up once or twice, there was no one there. They finally left a message. It was some lady with an accent who left an 800 number to call.

I went to trust Google and "googled" the phone number. Several things showed up about some sort of phone scam. Other links showed up about how it's just a general number that shows up when someone is using a calling card or something like that.

Anyway, I didn't know if anyone had had similar experiences. It's a nuisance more than anything, though I haven't heard from the number in a day or two.

Also, the other day I got a speeding ticket and it was bullshit of course. I'm honestly thinking about going to court though. He documented that my "state license plate" was "KS," when I actually have "MO" plates. If I recall, someone told me that that is grounds for dismissal of the charges. But, we'll see. Anyway, there's no way that the road I was on should have been 30 MPH. I was going 43 MPH. And he was sitting there yanking it, just waiting to bust some innocent civilian. It sucks for cops, because they really are there for so many good reasons, but they get such a bad name for what they spend most of their shifts doing: busting people for nothing serious, while the money just fills the government's coffers. (That's right; I said coffers.) And half the people in prison in the US are in there for drug offenses, so that's money being crapped away. But, that's a tirade for a different day.

Hmm, that was a tangent, wasn't it?

KFC Bowls

I'm a man who is not picky when it comes to food. I'll eat almost anything for the most part.

That's why it's especially shocking that I was repulsed by something I saw on TV the other day. From Kentucky Fried Chicken comes the new KFC Bowl.

A quick description: "Freshly prepared with layers of your KFC favorites - a generous serving of our creamy mashed potatoes, sweet kernel corn, bite size pieces of all-white meat crispy chicken, topped with our homestyle gravy and 3-cheese blend."

Don't get me wrong; I enjoy all of those things. But together in one bowl I find it to be a disgusting blend.

Perhaps I should keep an open mind (much like I did with herring in sour cream and cow testicles, of which I'm a huge fan of both now), and maybe I should give a Bowl a try.

But at this point, it's in the same category as Crystal Clear Pepsi and green ketchup. There just seems to be something wrong with it.

Slow Motion

My cousin writes for the Georgetown Hoya, the student newspaper. He is a sportswriter, and in my opinion, he is ridiculously good. I am a humble man, but I have to be honest: I'm jealous of his writing skills.

Well-written and eloquent, yet easy to read. THAT is the key in my opinion. If your writing is readable, that's pretty much the whole battle.

Here's his most recent article: Easy Choice is Sometimes the Best Choice

Here are the archives if you want to check out his old articles too.

Keep kicking some ass, Chris. Good stuff.

computer game(s) of the week

I've been playing these games intensely for the past week or two (at lunch only, of course). They are very rudimentary and simple to play, but quite addictive at least for me.

Mini Putt - my low score is a 20 (16 holes in one). Supposedly 18 is possible, but I find that VERY hard to believe (holes 8 and 17 are the ones I can't sink in one shot).

Mini Putt 2 - I just started into this one, but this sequel is much more intense than its predecessor. The original is a par 48; this version is a par 70, with some very unforgiving holes. Currently, my best score is 26 (attained on May 5, 2006).

Good luck, and sorry if I affect your productivity.

Amish kid at the Wright City rest stop

I was traveling to St. Louis two weekends ago to see the family and take in a Blues game, among other things, when I stopped in Wright City, Missouri (about 40 miles outside of STL) to relieve myself. (I'd been hitting the Rooster Booster pretty hard, and had had about 72 ounces over the course of the trip.)

I was approaching the restroom when I saw a kid proceed inside. He was probably ten and he was wearing what you might call very traditional garb. (Later, I saw that he met up who I assumed to be his mother and sister. They wore bonnets and long dresses. I was guessing the family was Amish or Quaker.)

So I head inside and do my thing. He's also at a urinal, and he's occasionally staring over at me (which I don't mind; as long as it isn't constant staring, I'll give kids a free pass). He finishes a bit before me and heads over to the sinks. He stops and seems befuddled.

It's one of those sinks where you stick your hands under and it lathers, rinses, and dries all at once. At this point, I'm just assuming he comes from a farm somewhere that doesn't have the newest microwave or high-speed internet access. But that's besides the point. If I hadn't seen this type of sink at the KSU Student Union before, and I was only ten, I'd be just as confused.

So I made my way to the sink and proceeded to use it like I finally learned how to (it took me a couple times). I'm not the type to call things "cute," but let's say as he proceeded to imitate me, it was an amusing situation. He watched my every move; I pretended I didn't see him, though I did. From soap to dry, he followed my lead. I left before he did, as he was still finishing up drying. I caught sight of the family as I left the rest stop to get back on the highway.

Every once in a while, a little incident like that brightens your day and give you a good story to tell.

LEAP

I consider myself conservative in general. There a few issues where I lean to the left.

One of those issues is illegal drugs. I'm not a druggie by any means. Who's to say if I've ever even tried any drugs? (It shan't be dissimenated in as public a forum as this.) While I can understand why drugs are outlawed, the simple fact is this because they are outlawed, it is created a black market worth billions and billions of dollars.

The past few weeks, a group has been appearing in the news, making public speaking appearances, and so on. Their name is LEAP, or Law Enforcement Against Prohibition. Their site does a good job of explaining what they're about.

Their viewpoint and ideas are absolutely mind-blowing and seemingly ridiculous. Basically, they feel because prohibition of illegal drugs has failed so horribly (and it seems it has, at least from what I've read or observed), a drastic change should occur. ALL illegal drugs should be legalized. Then, they should be regulated and treatment instead of incarceration is what money would be spent on. At least, I think that's the gist of it.

I know one thing would happen. Legalization would destroy the black market; prices would plummet. The entire drug distribution chain would be drastically affected. That, in and of itself, seems like a positive outcome. Cheap drugs for all, though, especially the deranged and addicted, poses a whole different set of issues.

I don't see this group ever getting very far, but perhaps people said the same thing about alcohol when it was prohibited for a time. In the end, perhaps it's just an interesting read. But, it sort of makes you think, "Hmm, what if?"

loathing dogs

I don't mean to offend dog lovers, but I've come to the recent conclusion that I loathe dogs. And, you know, I'm sure yours is the perfect dog, but I'll tell you the ones that stick in my mind.

It's the ones that live on every side of our new house that bark constantly the second they see you or someone walking down the street. It's the ones that jump up on you ten times, even though their owner tells them each time to get down or sit or whatever. It's the ones you hear about on the news that are ripping at the throats of 3-year-olds and 80-year-olds (usually it's pit bulls).

I know that I'm generalizing. And I shouldn't. I've met some find and upstanding dogs in my day. But it's not just dogs that can't behave. It's what dogs have done to the human race. Or perhaps we've done it to ourselves.

We dress these asshole dogs up in clothing. They don't need clothing. There are doggy ice cream treats on the market. And on and on.

And while I first heard it from Jerry Seinfeld in his stand-up act a while back, he makes an excellent point. If visitors from another planet came to observe Earth, they would see dogs leading humans around and the humans are picking up their shit. He posed the question: who would the aliens think were the dominant species?

Some people border on being slaves to their dogs and it amazes me. I know that you have to give time to your dog, or it will be one of those misbehaving psycho dogs, but it seems like a delicate balance could be found. But what do I know?

I'm a hamster and fish guy myself. (Ah, one of the neighbor dogs is going on one of his barking binges. Perfect time to end my post.)

Hit on

I was driving to St. Louis with Gretchen three weekends ago when we stopped in Columbia, Missouri for some gas at Quiktrip (a fine establishment). I got out and began to pump my gas. All of a sudden, this dude on the other side of the pump, filling his car, says to me, "Nice car." It took me a second to realize he was speaking to me, mainly because I was driving Gretchen's 2003 Honda Civic. No offense to Gretchen and other Civic owners, but a Civic just isn't the type of car that one gets complimented on. My pump stopped and I got back in the car.

I didn't pick up on anything until Gretchen piped up and said, "Was that guy talking to you?" I said yes and he told me I had a nice car. "I think he was hitting on you," she said. I thought a moment and then all the pieces fell into place. Yes, he WAS hitting on me. The guy was scrawny, with glasses, and you could consider him slightly effeminate. Our squeegees awkwardly met at the water bin hanging on the column. He complimented me on "my" Honda Civic. I was hit on by a gay man.

This is not a problem at all. I think it's happened a couple times before. And trust me, I'm flattered. I'm either good-looking enough or gay-looking enough to be hit on. I'll assume good-looking. (When I think back, when I said, "Actually, it's my fiancee's..." that probably sent the no-go signal to the guy. Who knows where it would have ended up at that point? Sharing a taquito, perhaps, Lady and the Tramp-style?)

top 5 lists

Tagged by Jackie:

In the kitchen:

1. fry cooker (Gretchen makes good fries, in lard mind you, not oil or some weak stuff like that)
2. Sasha Poell(American Family Insurance agent) letter opener - I much prefer the clean slice of a letter opener as opposed to just using a finger; it's just so messy
3. pen and pad of paper - I'm a list-maker, and that's what's needed to, you know, make lists
4. self-propelled electric can opener - I put the can in, start it, WALK AWAY, go do something else for five or ten seconds, I get back, and BOOM, the can is open for me
5. pictures on the fridge (including me and Gretchen, me and my niece, Olivia, and my freakishly large football-playing younger brother)

In the closet (various closets, I should say):

1. CDs that aren't in my car (most of them are good; some I regret ever buying, but that'll happen)
2. old print issues of The Onion
3. a box fan (I prefer to sleep with a fan or something else that makes a calming noise)
4. solid-colored t-shirts (green, black, and brown, among others)
5. tennis shoes (i have a old pair for lawn mowing, etc., a kind of new pair for casual wear, and a new pair for b-ball and v-ball)

In my bag (or briefcase really):

1. my planner (I can't stress that enough)
2. current issue of The Onion
3. current book I'm reading (in this case, Under and Alone by William Queen, this badass who went undercover in a motorcycle gang and then busted a bunch of them -- it ain't deep reading, but I'm fascinating by crim e books and things like that)
4. my fancy leather portfolio (trust me, it impresses people -- only mine was only $9.99, yet still impressive)
5. my business card (currently saying Mike Postiglione, Estimating, someday to say ESTIMATOR)

At the office:

1. my computer speakers (on which I listen to the Wildcat 91.9 online most of the time)
2. my ScrabbleGram and Onion daily desk calendars (as an aside, here's an interview with John D. Williams, Jr., Executive Director of the National Scrabble Association)
3. every color of highlighter (used during drawing take-offs)
4. daily to-do list (created in Word and printed out at the end of the day)
5. digitizer board (where take-off is done; it's actually kind of fun, believe it or not)

At home:

1. a bottle or can of thrifty beer (say, Milwaukee's Best Light or Natural Light)
2. my computer (a lot of entertainment from one box, that's what I always say)
3. my leather recliner (recently acquired from Gretchen's cousin's grandparents, and it is comfy)
4. my bed
5. foosball table (working on becoming a master, but I have a ways to go)


I tag Chris R. and Eric W. if no one has yet, anyway.