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...)

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.