Monday, April 21, 2008

Expired Benadryl

I bet you didn't know that if you search for Expired Benadryl that my blog is the third hit on Google. Go ahead. Try it. I double dog dare you. If you use quotes: "Expired Benadryl"...I'm the first hit!

I found this out because Alee found me in cyberspace this way. Thanks, Alee!

Quite the star I am.

Too bad if you search for my name "Mark Manasse"...some imposter comes up for the first (approximately) 1,000,000 hits...God how I hate Mark S. Manasse. Damn him. DAMN HIM!!! Why can't Mark A. Manasse rule the cyber world? I have one of the MOST unusual names on Earth (yes, I checked...and it was voted "Top Most Unusual Name.")...yet a brother can't get a hit.

But if you search "Expired Benadryl" I'm number one.

Perhaps I should change my name to Expired A. Benadryl.

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Jealousy: Thine Name is Hilarity

If you want to believe me or not, the following message was left on my voicemail last night by someone who claims to be the infamous "Jason" of How to leave a message fame. Jason did not leave this message, but I will give you a hint who did:

He/She has been known to be over five hours late picking me up before without calling to say he/she would be a "tad" later than planned

He/She is good with his/her hands

I understand that the drapes match the carpet

He/She has left a package of pasta on his/her floor in the same exact spot for over a month

and

In response to his/her basketball coach's inquiry of why his/her performance was subpar one game, he/she responded "I ate too many meatballs, Coach."

Can you guess who this person is? If still no, maybe the contents of the message will help. I have transcribed them for your convenience:

Hey Mark, this is Jason. I really, really want you really bad. I've healed since the last time, and I'm ready for more. I think I've worked it out. I think I know how I can adjust to angles so that we dont have to wait so long in between meetings. It's kind of like a physics problem. I had my friend, who is a physicist, work it out. It involves mass; it involves manasse; it involves momentum...plus a gravity coefficient. So I think we've worked it out. So give me a call. OK? Bye

Does anyone have any guesses on who our mystery message leaver might be? Do you still need more hints...you idiots...

He/She was once bitten in the face by a dog a mere two to three seconds after exclaiming "All dogs love me." He/she required stitches.

He/She does a fantastic Marilyn Monroe impression of "Happy Birthday, Mr. President."

and

He/she coined the term "Nose-tradamus" as a person who has the ability to smell gas before another person has let it go.

If you still don't know, you're pathetic. But I will now give you some choices:

(a) My Mom
(b) Your Mom
(c) He Who Shall Not Be Named
(d) Eva Longoria
(e) None of the above

OK...ok...I'll just tell you. It was my mom.

Eva Longoria: She's NOT What's for Dinner

Yesterday was my first real jaunt back into training mode.


I woke up early-ish, and went for a nice 6 mile run before my friend came over to go on a bike ride. I finished the run in about 55 minutes, and was feeling pretty good.


The bike ride included two seriously climbs. One long and arduous (Torrey Pines)...and one just arduous (Clairemont). In sum, I only rode about 30 to 35 miles, from my door to Solana Beach and back.


Then, I got hungry.


After the actual triathlon a few weeks ago, they had a BBQ. I think I was the hungriest I had ever been in my life. At the BBQ, I ate two cheeseburgers, a turkey wrap, some chicken, and lots of sides. At that point, I was STILL hungry, but figured I should stop eating for moral reasons. And three cheeseburgers is just too much. A much too much.


Yesterday, after the ride with my friend, we went to lunch...and my hunger went away for some reason. I only ate a few bites of my enchiladas (not the whole enchilada).


After lunch, I ran home, got ready to tutor, tutored, then went to a movie. During the movie, that same sensation I had after the triathlon returned. I felt like I could eat an entire cow by myself (insert Mark mom joke here). I made it home around 7:30, and I had a incredibly huge craving for meat...maybe just protein...and the fun began.


At dinner, I had the four basic food groups:



(1) Cheese, and lots of it, in my chile relleno.











(2) Steak: Carne Asada style











(3) Chicken: From wings we (ok...I) had as an appetizer









(4) Pork: Tauni could not finish her carnitas. I was more than happy to oblige.





So yes...for dinner last night, I had: cheese, steak, chicken, AND pork. Sadly, I was STILL HUNGRY...but didn't eat anything else because in my head, I knew I shouldn't be. Honestly, it was a little scary...how could anyone be THAT hungry?


What the hell is going on here? Is this all happening because Eva Longoria is a bitch?


Thursday, April 17, 2008

How to Leave a Message

I have this friend who is a little...different. He doesn't really do the whole "cellphone" thing. In fact, he prefers that you actually...(wait for it)...call his house! Keep in mind, I haven't even had a home phone for about three or four years.

Anyway, I call him yesterday, at his house, and the strangest thing happened. I didn't get voicemail. I didn't get infinite ringing. I didn't get him on the phone. I got his wife, actually...and I had to interact with her...and like leave a message and stuff with a LIVING person.

Seriously, I don't remember the last time I had the following conversation:

Me: Is Jason there?
Her: No. He isn't here right now.
Me: Oh...may I leave a message?
Her: Sure.
Me: Can you tell him "Mark" called?
Her: Yes.

Seems so simple...but I felt like an ESL student during this brief interchange. I actually had to monitor myself...and think: What do I say to a live person if I want to leave a message?

How sad is that?

So thank you, Jason. Thank you for being a tech-phobe freak of nature. Without your antisocial tendencies, I may never have had the pleasure of the speech act "Leaving a Message with a Living Person" ever again. I'm not 100% concerned that you are actually a pedophile or mass murderer because of this, by the way. No, not 100%.

Jason, I appreciate that contacting you via carrier pigeon might actually be the fastest way to speak with you. You have successfully reminded me what it is like not to be told to wait for a beep before I start talking. Seriously, why do people say "wait for the beep?" Am I an idiot? Does anyone start talking before the beep on voicemail? Do you ever hear anyone on a voice message in mid thought saying "...647...oh shit...there was a beep. What I was saying was that this is 'Bob' and my number is '278-8647.'" No. You don't.

But anyway, thank you, Jason. And if you aren't busy chopping up a dead body or wearing women's underwear, maybe we can get a beer later this week.

I'll just call and leave a message.

Friday, April 11, 2008

Triathlon Blog #10: Triple Crown Me (Not-So-Serious Edition)

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: women fucking suck. How is it that one gender can religiously and with such flare ruin what is good and right about this world. Damn you and your boobs, women. Damn you all.

I would say, as my faithful readers already know, that I suck at swimming. This triathlon was going to be my first time in the water with A LOT of people sprinting as fast as they could to a common goal: getting the heck out of the water as fast as possible with no broken teeth, fingers, or testicles. The race directors try to help these appendages by having three waves of swimmers: elite, then men, then women.

The gun goes off and the elite swimmers take off. A few minutes later, it's my turn (as I am male) to go. I am surrounded by men who are trying to swim past me because I can't swim worth a damn. And God bless them, they were polite about it. They would go off to the side or lightly tap me to go by. I would do my part and swim to the side. Team work...and a common respect were apparent to me.

Then the women come.

Usually, I would pay extra to be scratched, groped, and pulled on by a few hundred women, but I gotta say, this is a bit distracting when trying to swim a mile in the ocean. Woman after rude-ass woman that was able to catch up to me (and this was a lot of women, mind you) would TUG on my ankles or SCRATCH my legs as they tried to pass. Seriously, if any of you somehow find my blog one day, I have the following retort for you:

FUCK YOU. Vulgar, yes...but I believe this terminology was coined for instances just like this. Did Daddy not pay enough attention to you when you were younger? Did your boyfriend screw you over? Or are you generally just a self-centered bitch? Is that why you tried to drown me? It honestly is not my fault you make 10% less coming out of college even if you have the same education and experience as I do. I have absolutely nothing to do with your menstrual cramps. I didn't make you have less muscle mass. So, in the future, if you pull on my ankles, feet, arms, or what-have-you ever again, you are getting an "accidental" kick to the face.

I swear to God, I have never gotten so beaten up in my life as during that swim. Too bad I passed most of them on the bike and the run...but they could have probably followed the trail of blood from where they scratched me.

Seriously. Wow. That swim was brutal. To put things in perspective, I was the tenth fastest runner on my team during the race...I was 48th on the swim (and there are only 69 people on the team...)!

I am going to do it again, though. If for no other reason than revenge!

Triathlon Blog #9: Triple Crown Me in 3 hours and 9 minutes (Serious Edition)

Right before I moved to San Diego a little more than three years ago, I attended a Team in Training meeting in San Francisco. At that meeting I heard the terminology "triple crown" for the first time. A "triple crowner" was someone who successfully completed a marathon, a century ride, and a triathlon with Team in Training. I thought that sounded kind of neat...but I knew I was moving, and I didn't have time to get into that. I knew, though, that I would do that....one day.

A few years and a few races later, I have done it....and I have to admit that when I got to the last mile of the triathlon, I got emotional. Three years of my life were spent going towards a goal that I wasn't really sure about. People ask, of course, "why a marathon" or "why a century ride" or "why a triathlon?" In retrospect, I don't know. I could give some cursory responses like "to see if I can" or "to prove it to myself" or "to raise money for cancer research" but I don't know if that's it. What is it within any of us that pushes us to wake up everyday and do the things we do? I am torn between the fact that I am perhaps distracting myself from bigger issues that I don't want to pay attention to much more than the fact I am pushing myself to succeed.

So yeah, three years of my life culminated last week and I walked around with a smile knowing that I showed me something, even if I'm not 100% certain what that something is. I also know that I want to do a half-iron man...and one day, a full. Again, I'm not really sure why...but I guess if my motivation is "to see if I can" or as base as "a distraction," it doesn't really matter. Whatever pushes me to do these things is pushing me to feel and think things I never knew were possible.

I tri because I can.

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Triathlon Blog #8: Under Ten Hours To Go

No nut products have come within ten feet of my body. Nothing new, baby; especially the conversations I have had since I've been here.

If one more person asks me "when I got in" or "when I leave" I may have to slap him/her.

OK...off to bed. The "wrap up" story is coming soon.