Agent apprehensive over Matuska losing weight, sex appeal

From wire reports

New York, New York- Ark Palooska, agent and doppleganger for minor marathon celebrity Mark Matuska, has recently come forward with concerns about his #1 client's participation in this year's ING New York City Marathon. No, it's not anxiety over Matuska's ability to finish the race- he feels confident that he will do so in inspiring fashion. Rather, it's the consequences of that success that strike fear into Palooska. "He's got an investment to protect. I hope he understands that," remarked Palooska in a recent phone interview. "We don't have any insurance on that derriere of his. We're not J-Lo."

Palooska was referring to the rumored weight loss that Matuska has incurred during his training regimen. "He looks emaciated. A shell of his former self. Much more of this, and we might start shopping in SoHo," lamented Palooska. "How will the fans react? They've become accustomed to this roly-poly, happy-go-lucky public persona. What happens when that behind doesn't jiggle anymore? Women ages 18-92 are at least 50% of our audience." When prompted as to whether he approved of Matuska running the marathon, Palooska replied he'd "rather see Mark sitting on the couch eating Cheetos and investing in our future."

Close associate Timothy Petrov had additional thoughts about the incredible shrinking Matuska, remarking "I don't care if he's losing weight. He'll always be fat to me." Petrov refused to comment further, instead relaying his opinion via the following sketch:When told of their concerns, however, Matuska was upbeat. "I understand that there may be skepticism about my future marketability as a reasonably physically fit individual. I nonetheless do not share those concerns. The public has come to love chunky-style Matuska; they're going to love smooth & creamy Matuska even more."

"Ha Ha Ha! I'm the king! Ha Ha Ha!"

An off day today to "celebrate" my first interstate run, catch up with the Punch-Out!! theme, and rest my aching dogs...

So, I erroneously labeled the Don as a Frenchie yesterday. Turns out he's Spanish (which is obvious- I'm either getting dumber daily or merely suffering more frequent braincramps in my old age...) Roth is going to kill me. Perhaps I was confused by the fact that Don Flaming enters the ring to the overture from Carmen, which is of course set in Spain, but is performed in French. (Yeah, I knew that yesterday... right.) Reminds me of when my dear sister came to visit and took me to see Madame Butterfly, which is, for the uninitiated, a story of an American soldier in postwar Japan singing to his Asian half-bride in Italian. Opera makes no sense.

On the other hand, opera in this case affords me the opportunity to link to a useless YouTube clip. You asked for it, you got it: An orange singing the Habanera from Carmen:

Now that made sense.

On to the grisly details:

Monday: Browns @ Giants. Talk about fugly.

Tuesday: 7 miles

Wednesday: Suburban simulator

Thursday: Marathon Team Meeting, Ant's birthday dinner

Friday: 4.6 miles, Aileen's bday party

Saturday: Deep fog. Wake up in Astoria? End up at the Olive Garden?

Sunday: 11 miles

Sunday's 11-miler was a small victory of sorts, as this week I managed to find the George Washington Bridge pedestrian entry and run my way to Jersey. Of course, I turned back immediately.

As you may gather from the above, however, I encountered ample opportunity to break training last week, and I didn't disappoint. Vegas finally had to pay someone. The below are estimates:

Browns @ Giants- Petrov procured some free tickets to the game at the Meadowlands, and thank Crom they were free, because had I paid for that pathetic display of football-like substance I might have spontaneously combusted while stabbing myself with a blunt spoon. 4 16-oz Bud Heavies = 5 beers.

Suburban simulator- This entry refers to an invitation from Rothschild and DK to hang out in Connecticutian bliss over some mediocre margaritas and beers kept in exhorbitantly large refrigerators. Apparently, DK and his wife have adopted a pair of cats.

Cats.

There aren't enough beers.

1 pre-dinner Heiny + 2 dinner margs + 1 dinner Negra Modelo + approx 4 post-dinner Manshack frothwagons = 8 alcobeverages

Ant's Bday @ Li'l' Frankie's- Great restaurant, bad for schedule. 1 pre-dinner beer, maybe 3 glasses of wine, 2 beers post-dinner, one round of shots abandoned for the sake of my job and my self-respect= 6 drinks

Aileen's Bday @ Bar 82- A semblance of restraint? Only four drinks consumed. Oh wait- I met Dane and Child Starc at the Sunburnt Cow for two more after. How I ended up in Astoria... I won't detail. 6 beers.

Olive Garden- Carb loading over the all-you-can-eat pasta bowl. The internet tells me the ammonia smell emanating from my sweat after long runs indicates I'm running through my glycogen stores and am burning amino acids. The solution is to consume more carbohydrates.

I guess I need to drink more booze.
2 beers.

Week 6 Tally:

22.6 miles run

27 drinks consumed

Verdict: "Join the Nintendo fun club today Mac!"

Overall record: 3-3

The past is the past. Let's look toward tomorrow, and the start of...

King Hippo Week!

Petrov has suggested we skip the 12 miler and jump straight to 13 to see how a half-marathon feels. Bet it's gonna feel great, Tim. F'n great.

Catch ya'll later on down the road...

"People like my hair. dont mess my hair!"

Yes, I know. I never wrote up Piston Honda. All you hardcore Punch-Out!! fans out there won't get the full fix. What can I say- there's a lot on my plate right now.

Let's track August 11-18:

Monday: Off
Tuesday: 6 miles
Wednesday: 4.6 miles
Thursday: Off
Friday: 4.6 miles (in the rain, no less)
Saturday: 10 miles...?
Sunday: Off

Saturday would normally have been an off-day given the training schedule, but I felt pretty good and decided to give it the old college try. So I ran up to the GW bridge hoping to make my first interstate run. Unfortunately, the pedestrian entrance to the bridge isn't very well-marked, and I wasn't in much of a mood for aimlessly wandering around Upper Manhattan. But wander I did, over to the Harlem River, and down the East River side back to my apartment. Or sort of- the linked Google map doesn't adequately describe the number of dead-ends and "Closed for Refurbishments" I ran into while trying to navigate the industrial wasteland that is the series of "parks" on the Harlem/East River. I stopped a few times, not due to exhaustion, but due to general frustration. Thankfully, I didn't run into any impromptu public toilets (in a particularly concealed section of the Manhattan approach to the Triborough Bridge footpath) or homeless guys crapping on the sidewalk (not far from said toilet). So, in some ways, I was lucky.

Frankly, I don't remember my binge-drinking schedule for this week, but I'm actually fairly certain that it was a week entailing very little negative impact. Saturday I recall being invited out to a barbecue on Long Island, which involved a tall boy at Petrov's, a Foster's Aussie pint on the train, maybe 4 beers at the Q, and then another tall boy on the way back. The barbecue was memorable in that the hosts and their guests first tried to recall the explanations of the sexual classics "Dirty Sanchez," "Cleveland Steamer," "Rusty Trombone," and the like, and then moved on to attempting to define their own deviant (hopefully) imagined acts. (Mom, DO NOT look up these terms.) I didn't go out on Friday, and mid-week was generally uneventful. So, given the questionable officiating during Von Kaiser week, the official record after Week 5 is Matuska 3, Matuska's (Un)Social Behavior 2.

I'm not going to go into it now, but let's just say Don Flemenco is one despicable Frenchman:Hopefully, I'll soon wrangle up the gumption to detail what (hopefully) is a mid-season anomaly. A blip. A... Who am I kidding? As I told my sister recently, "We are the sum of the choices that we make." Train or party? Uh.... Both?

It's a good thing I get a rematch.

"Sushi, Kamikaze, Fujiyama, Nipponichi..."

Dear, dear reader(s),

It's been too long. I know, I know- the fault is mine. I've been lazy in keeping you up to date. I will try to do better.

In the meantime... Click on that "St. Vincent's Team Page" linky over there on the right. Quick question: What don't you see on the list of "Top Fundraisers"?

I'll give you a moment.

Ok, the answer is: my name! Seriously folks- I will not be outfundraised by a bunch of who-dat flunkies. This is Mark Matuska were talking about here- aka the hub of a a global communication network that dwarfs all others in sheer fantastitude and ginorsomeness. Get cracking! Every little bit helps.

To those that have offered support- moral, financial, or athletic- you have my continued gratitude.

Speaking of athletic supporters....

My dear friend Cassie, who works for a PR firm somewhere, was kind enough to send over tubs and tubes of something called Aquaphor. I had never heard of this product before, but Cassie was adamant that it would be an indispensable aid in my quest to run further than I've ever run before. I was of course skeptical, but also eager for free crap. I believe my phrasing was "Go ahead and send me some lube."

I'm going to take a moment now to discuss a serious problem that affects many of us in one way or another- the problem of chafing. In my particular case, I create a great deal of heat between my legs in a completely un-fun way. For those of you who've seen me naked (and there are a few of you), you already understand; for those of you who have not, allow me to be more visual:

That photo was taken Tuesday. Anyway, thanks to this magic balm known to the free world as Aquaphor, I'm abrasion-free. Next time you see me, ask to check out my smooth inner thigh- you'll become a believer too!

Yeah Aquaphor!

(This has been an advertisement paid for with some sort of curious petroleum jelly. If you have some gelatinous goo (or something else) you think I can use, or think I might want, or think I might be able to store on a shelf, or might fit in my apartment, let me know. If I like it, I'll say something nice about it.)

On to more important things...

While I was on hiatus, Von Kaiser week came and went. I know you're dying to know, so...

Monday: 4.6 Miles
Tuesday: Eddie Vedder
Wednesday: 6.0 Miles
Thursday: 4.6 Miles
Friday: Little Buddy's Birthday Party
Saturday: Worst Hangover Ever
Sunday: 8ish miles

(Note: Google has recently added a "walking directions" option to its maps app, and it's pretty fantastic for calculating milage. Unfortunately, it's not very expansive- it's fairly detailed as far as the park, but is completely oblivious to the walkability of a number of bridges, including the Triborough and the 3rd Ave bridge. Also, Randalls Island doesn't exist in its universe. So, for the record, Sunday I ran through CP, crosstown to the East River on 103rd/2nd, across the 103rd St. footbridge to Randalls/Wards Island, north the length of the island, back to Harlem via the Triborough, and then over to the Bronx via the Willis Ave. bridge for a cup of coffee before coming back on the 3rd Ave Bridge and back to good ol' 118th. I have aspirations of running the GW bridge this weekend.)

Beers consumed:
Tuesday's Eddie Vedder Concert: 7
(I'd write more about this, but this blog entry's bloated already.)
Friday: Astronomical quantities

I count 23.2 miles run this week, meaning I need only have had fewer than 16 beverages on Friday night to come out the victor.

...It's frightening how unlikely that is.

However- if I can't remember, it didn't happen, right? Score this one for me...

Overall record: 2-2! As Marv Albert would say: Yes!

Let's meet this week's opponent!

For the Minor Circuit Championship Belt, it's...

Piston Honda Week!

More on the "TKO from Tokyo" tomorrow...

"Your punch is soft...just like your heart!"

Greetings friends! It's another action-packed issue of MM2K8INGNYCMTB. As if I hadn't run out enough gimmickry so far, get ready for...

Von Kaiser Week!

[As an aside: I had originally had the idea that I'd nickname a given training week after famous villains from film and literature. (Marathon Week was going to be Drago Week. It still might be. Stay tuned.) After a romantic dinner with my training buddy Timmy "I'll Smash Your Face" Petrov, though, I've decided to take it in another direction. Master of pattern recognition that he is, he suggested that the remaining training schedule roughly corresponds to the fight sequence from the old NES classic "Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!!" (I'm a sucker for superfluous exclamation points.) So we're going to work our way up the heavyweight ladder, hopefully beat the champ, and then fade into Bolivian.* I've decided to do this at the risk of alienating much of my audience, which probably just consists of my Mom. So be it.]
*Current running gimmick may change without notice.

Let's get reacquainted with the "German Steel Machine," shall we?


Check out that 'stache- that ain't legal. According to Wikipedia, which we all know is the most reliable source of information anywhere ever, ze Kaiser is a "militant German ring veteran." I don't know about you, but to me that makes him a Nazi. Villains don't get much more despicable than Nazis- just ask Jake and Elwood. So, this week, I'm not just running for St. Vincent's or for my own health and well-being, but also to combat intolerance and bigotry by knocking this chump out in the name of Polish sausage.

More about Keyser Soze later. For now, let's recap what will posthumously be known as "Glass Joe Piscopo Week":

Monday: Off
Tuesday: Lazy
Wednesday: 5.5 Miles
Thursday: 5.5 Miles
Friday: Off
Saturday: 7 miles (Full Central Park Circuit!)
Sunday: Off

Drinks consumed: 7 (5 on Saturday night/Sunday morning out, then a giant Pina Colada and a G&T at dinner Sunday)

Happily or unhappily, many if not all of you decided to be out of town this week, fortifying my normally weak will into rocklike stoicism. The real tests come this week, most notably at Little Buddy's birthday bash. Despite any asterisks, though, I can with a guiltless conscience score this one a victory for the good guys, even though Glass Joe tossed me to the canvas once during the long run (I think partially due to the post-thunderstorm humidicloud in which I chose to engage Central Park.) Never mind...

Von Kaiser Roll enters the ring to a Nintendization of an old Wagner favorite. So... Let's get this week rolling. Ride of the Valkyries, anyone?

Smells like... victory. Let's talk again this week, yes? Until then...