Alien Ant Farm anecdote

On the topic of Pantera, as morbid of a segue as it is, it reminds me
of an incident that happened to me and some friends in July 2001.

The group consisted of Dirty Dave, Joe B., John, and I and the
location was Kansas City, MO on July 9, 2001. We were on what was
titled the "Extreme Steel Road Trip 2001," where we traveled from St.
Louis to the Lake of the Ozarks, then to Manhattan, KS, followed by KC
and back to STL. We picked up John (who was actually was a sorry
substitute for our friend Stephen who encountered some trouble with
the parents and had to return home for the week) and headed to Kansas
City for the Extreme Steel concert, which consisted of headliners
Pantera and Slayer (hardcore bands, to sum it up) along with Static-X,
Skrape, and Morbid Angel as the openers. I was, and still am to an
extent, into this type of heavy metal, but I need to be in the right
mood.

The concert rocked hard (it really is a natural wonder to see a
Pantera live, and I pity anyone who never had the chance to
observe, or participate, in one), but this is secondary to the
anecdote at hand.



We were departing the concert after it ended, and as we were exiting,
I spotted a short man with a uniquely shaved crew cut. He also had a
tattoo at the back of his neck; it was the logo of alternative rock
band Alien Ant Farm. I followed him down the concourse a bit and, upon
further facial investigation, realized it was actually THE lead singer
of Alien Ant Farm. (Simple explanation: the Vans Warped Tour was going
on the next day, which AAF was playing. Just wanted to take in a
relaxing show the night before, I assume.)

Dirty Dave (trust me, the description is rather applicable), being the
extrovert that he is, led the charge in approaching Dryden Mitchell
and engaging him in a conversation. As amusing as the story is
already, Mitchell's reaction furthered the experience. Actually, if I
recall the situation correctly, I began by say, "Hey, are you the lead
singer of alien ant farm?" And he responded, startled, "Ye..ye…yes…,"
Basically, the man was frightened out if his mind. I'm assuming,
because he's a stage performer who I wouldn't think would be prone to
shyness except when performing (though I think there are personality
types like that out there), that this dude was probably messed up on
some sort of drug and feared for his life. Heck, I would be scared of
four Pantera fans accosted me and struck up a conversation. The
conversation was brief, but a mention was made of Dave and Joe
attending the Warped Tour when it came through St. Louis in the
following days.

Sure enough, Dave and Joe caught Mitchell's eye at the concert. He
wasn't too f'ed up back in KC, I guess, since he remembered them, and
proceeded to silently offer them a sip of his lukewarm Busch Light.

After thinking about it further, I think maybe Dryden Mitchell is a
little messed up in one way or another. Anyway, it makes for a good
story, right?

Steve Irwin

While it's turned into overkill at this point, it is weird how
gripping and affecting this story has become. I'll admit, it stunned
me when I heard the news that a stingray had stung the Crocodile
Hunter in the chest, ironically while he was doing some "soft pieces" for
his daughter's television show, due to inclement weather postponing
his more dangerous shoot.

I haven't quite figured out why it has affected me like it did. Maybe
I just had that idea stuck in my head that he was somehow invincible
(a farce I know, but you get what I'm saying: he tackled alligators,
taunted snakes by the tail, and constantly stared death in the face).
I never watched the guy regularly. I was still stunned when I first
heard he had died, but was more amazed when it was due to an attack
from a normally docile animal. He had no idea it was coming (not that
he was expecting it whenever he held a king cobra by the neck, but I
bet the adrenaline was pumping a little at that point), and if had
been hit anywhere other than directly in the heart, he might still be
here.

In the end, I think it was the combination of Steve Irwin, this
energetic and cool TV personality, dying, the animal that actually
took his life, and the incredibly small chances of him actually dying
from such an attack (I'm assuming only a strike to the heart, a major
artery or vein, or the brain, if that were possible) that probably
took me aback.

It's just kind of weird, you know? It isn't affecting me like a family
member dying or anything, don't read into it like that, it's just one
of those stories that catches you by surprise. (Dimebag Darrell from
Pantera was probably the last celebrity that really shocked me when
they died, when he was shot at a concert in December of '04. See some details about it here.)

Two vexing problems

Though these issues are rather trite, I'm wondering if anyone has
these problems like I do.

Lately, I've been fighting allergies (I don't know to what
specifically I'm allergic to; something in nature is what I've
narrowed it down to). Anyway, it's led to a runny nose, sneezing, and
general chest congestion. The problem that plagues me is that when I
blow my nose with a tissue, because of my manly stubble, I get these
particles of tissue stuck in the "mustache" I have (I quote it because
I'm not growing a mustache; it's just the hair that forms after a day
or two of growth…as an unrelated aside, I'm having to shave about
every other day now and needless to say, it's quite an inconvenience).
Am I the only who is having this tissue in the 'stache problem? I'm
surmising that this is the reason that the handkerchief was invented,
most probably by a man suffering from this very problem. My opinion of
the handkerchief was always one of disgust, but perhaps now I can see
why carrying around a rag of dried snot might have its benefits.
Monogrammed perhaps? (X-mas isn't too far off, you know, and it'd make
a fine gift. For me, to be specific.)

(Edit: Gretchen got a sneak preview of this post, and said there was no way I was carrying around gross handkerchiefs. I guess she'll get used to me having a flaky, papery mustache then.)

The other problem that has irked me as of late are what I have deemed
"unwieldy" box flaps. Normally that refers to something that is
awkward or hard to handle (like an armoire perhaps). In this case, I
mean a box flap that is not easy to penetrate at initial use or that
does not easily clasp once it is broken in. The top of a box of cereal
is probably the most common example. It really bothers me when doesn't
clasp like it should or it simply gets torn off when the box is open
or that it won't even go together with ease. They've had this box flap
thing for decades now, I'm sure, and I figure they would have
perfected the design by this point. It's quite possibly my anal side
coming out, but I really prefer having those boxes clasped with the
flap, as they should be, prior to putting them away in the pantry. Is
that really to much to ask, you cereal mogul sons-of-bitches?

radio show and feet out the window

If you're on the computer a lot, you probably listen to music while you're at it.

I recommend checking out a local radio show that a friend of mine is hosting on Wednesday nights starting tonight from 9 to 11 PM central time. The show, Know Alternative, will feature alternative (obviously) and other modern rock music. You can listen to it online if you aren't in the St. Louis area.

Derek knows good music and if you like this type of stuff (think Smashing Pumpkins, Local H, Placebo), then you'll probably dig the show.

Hey, no pressure, but I'll be listening, that's for damn sure.

Go to the bottom of the webpage and you should see the "Listen" button. And then rock out.



(As an aside, I must admit how much I despise seeing the passenger in a car with their foot or feet out the window. Why it enrages me so much I have no idea, but it does. Arms and hands that rest on the window ledge don't bother me a whit. But the sight of a protruding foot really, really bothers me. It's just uncouth.)

quite a hiatus

And a bit more to come.

Just dropping a line to let the five of you who read regularly know that I'm still alive. I haven't posted in a while, but I'll be back soon.

I know it can be frustrating to check a blog multiple times and still see the same entry week after week.

Once Gretchen Postiglione and I get the house cleaned up, write some thank-you notes, and take care of a few other things, I'll get back on the horse, to be figurative.

As a peace offering, I shall post a picture of my younger brother during a track meet. I found it as I was scouring Facebook the other day. It's such a wonderful combination of so many things: raw determination, ferocious facial expression, and exposed gut (no offense, Anthony...though it better not be beer gut, young man). They are all pure Postiglione qualities. Seriously, though, I think it's an awesome picture. Enjoy.

gravitas

Gravitas:
Pronunciation: 'gra-v&-"täs, -"tas
Function: noun
Etymology: Latin
: high seriousness (as in a person's bearing or in the treatment of a subject)

I recently caught an episode of the Colbert Report on Comedy Central. I don't watch it all the time, but Stephen Colbert can be pretty funny on occasion.

I luckily caught the 100th episode last week. I say luckily because he had on Stone Phillips from NBC, who also was on the inaugural episode of the show.

They proceeded to have a rematch of a "gravitas-off" they had on the first episode. Basically, it was a competition of who could say something more seriously and news anchor-like, for lack of a better term. Of course, the phrases they were saying were ridiculous, making the showdown even more amusing. (An example of this phenomenon is when a news anchor says "some of the images you are about to see..." and so on.)

Maybe it's just me, but I found these unbelievably hilarious. Here are links to the two "gravitas-offs" that Stephen Colbert and Stone Phillips had on the Colbert Report.

The original gravitas-off from the first episode

The gravitas-off rematch (I like this one better, but they're both pretty good)

Dual Action Cleanse

While I thought I had found the greatest infomercials with the Ronco Showtime Rotisserie (side note: check out the Popeil ladies on the left side of the page...lookin' good) and the Miracle Blade knife set (caution: somewhat loud and annoying, but still amusing video comes on when entering the site), those infomercials are now retired.

I have found Dual Action Cleanse. And frankly, the website does it no justice. This infomercial must be viewed to be understood and believed.

In essence, and I quote the website to explain product, Dual Action Cleanse is a "two-part system that is formulated to maximize one's elimination without causing loose stools or uncomfortable cramping. It encourages healthy bowel movements while assisting in cleansing the vital organs and lymphatic system."

To be blunt, it sounds like an herbal remedy you take that causes you to "go" up to three times a day, which I guess is "normal" and "healthy" for some people. (I always think back to high school, when my friend Joe Balmer was in the peak part of his cross-country season, he said he would go FOUR times a day. To this day, that boggles my mind.)

Besides the fact that this product sounds like a total crock (and the number of anti-DAC websites backs that theory), the infomercial is so amusing that I can't describe it. It's the creepy creator, Klee Irwin, who can't be better described by anything other than the word "creepy," along with the "hosts" of the segment, who are the oddest couple I've ever seen. Not that they're involved or anything, but they choose this partially senile older woman and a balding and muscular middle-aged man to interview Irwin. Words just don't do it justice.

Yet, a partial, and thoroughly disturbing clip, can: Klee Irwin describes his 4-year-old daughter's earth-shattering bowel movement and how emasculated it made him feel

Unbelievable. If that hasn't convinced you to buy the product, then you can take heart in the fact that after John Wayne passed away, an autospy was done. The coroner concluded that there was FORTY-FOUR pounds of compacted and unpassed fecal matter in his large intestine. Believe it or not. Are you sold yet?

Anyway, I don't mean to gross anyone out with this. It's just what you stumble across at 1 AM on Sunday morning. And it rekindles your faith in the fact that humanity has a couple of loose screws, because you know there are folks out there buying this stuff.

(If you or someone you know has purchased Dual Action Cleanse, no offense was meant in the submission of this post.)

the sports page at the office

It's nothing really worth complaining about, but sometime I head into the restroom in the morning to do what needs to be done. Say it's around 8:30 in the morning, for example.

I walk in and, almost like clockwork, the sports page is slightly wrinkled and lying in the trash can. It can be easily surmised that someone (and I'm assuming it's the same culprit every time it happens) used the bathroom earlier that day, and they utilized the daily sports page while doing so. Of course, as a courtesy, they dispose of this section before leaving the restoom, since normally the Kansas City Star is placed on the table in the kitchen each morning.

I'm not a germophobe by any means, but I could see why it would be a slight sanitary issue if someone brought back the sports page that had made a trip to the john.

Yet, I'm MORE offended at the fact that they have the gall (or chutzpah if you will) to take what is easily the most popular section of the paper (at least in our office) and go relieve themselves with it and dispose of it when finished. Maybe if your daily routine was using the restroom at 3:30 or 4 PM everyday, I could be more lenient. But this bastard deprives everyone of sports page reading if he has to do his duty in the morning. It happens probably two or three times a week at the most.

Come on, take the Metro section or Arts and Entertainment. Even the classifieds will get the job done. But it takes some nerve to do something as obviously inconsiderate as that. This is the office paper for all in the office to use.

Is it the end of the world? No. It's really not a big deal. And I'm grounded enough to realize this.

But I'm interested to find out who the person is. I won't confront them; I won't say a word. That's not my style.

But I'll tell you this: I will never view this man in the same way again. You can tell a lot about a person by the little things that they say or do. This is just one small example.

early exercisers

I went into work early last week. I wanted to be in by 6:30 AM, so I left the house around ten after six. As I'm driving through the neighborhood, I saw at least five or ten people out walking or jogging in the park or on the sidewalk.

Wow, talk about making a person feel like a lazy bum. I haven't exercised regularly in several months, and these people are up at six in the morning to better themselves. I swear, sometimes waking up is the hardest thing in the world. It contrasts that wonderful feeling where you hit snooze and get to sleep another ten minutes. If the rest of sleeping felt how those ten minutes did, no one would ever get out of bed.

But maybe that's just me. I'm not a morning person, and perhaps all these healthy folks who are out barely after the sun rises are. It ain't my cup of tea.



(For crying out loud, I tried three or four times to make this image come out looking reasonable, but I say screw it. I'm leaving it as it is, in all it's pixelated glory, as a testament to how awful I am at things like blogging and picture editing and so on. Kansas State taught a lot of you people to be awesome at that sort of thing, but they sure as hell failed with me.)

expectant mothers

I love them to death, I really do, but I must admit that I do not see the logic in have "expectant mother" parking spaces at malls and grocery stores. I've begun to see this phenomenon the past couple years.

Gretchen made an excellent point the other day that a mother with a 6-month old and a 2-year-old deserves a closer spot way more than a chick who's gained twenty pounds in the last couple months. I know I can never relate to what a pregnant woman goes through, so I won't try to empathize in any way, but this evolution in parking space demarcation is the biggest crock I've come across in a long time.

And I'm the last guy who needs a close space to where I'm walking. (For example, those KSU students who would troll the big lot out by the old stadium like they're looking for their favorite hooker. You lazy fools. That you would sit at the end of an aisle for twenty minutes so you have to walk fifty less feet to class is mind-boggling. What a bunch of arrogant sloths.

But I digress. I'm just saying that the handicapped have a legitimate case. If you get knocked up, in my opinion, I think the dude should be going to buy your ice cream and pickles in the first place. (Hopefully that doesn't come back to bite me in the ass one of these days. I'm pretty sure she doesn't read my blog anyway. I pretty sure anyway...)