What Once Was (Small Group Edition)

Are you listening closely?  I'm only going to say this once.

The stars are aligning, conspiring against me.  And worse yet, they're conspiring against my brother.  Me and He are a lot alike, in the one way that matters: we love the same things.  The Vandals, the Rangers, the Cowboys, and our hatred for Boise State football.  And because of these Four Pillars of rossnation..., this year has the potential for more pain than all previous seasons combined, and I'm not sure if I'm emotionally prepared.
It breaks down thusly.

1. The 2010 Vandals are average to slightly above average, but they're still looking at getting shellacked twice more this season.  Nevada and Boise State both have compelling reasons to put up a 70-spot on us.  Add in the very real possibility that the Idaho/BSU game will never happen again in the majestic yet confining confines of our beloved Kibbie Dome, and you've got a recipe for pain.  
2. The Texas Rangers are not expected to pull out a postseason win against the Yankees, but they are the only reasonable hope I have for magic.  So either they win the pennant, or they lose to the Yankees, which is akin to losing the Cold War for me.  Or am I being over dramatic?
3. The Cowboys have a top 5 defense and a top five offense, and they are 1 and 4 on the season.  In layman's terms, they sucketh.
4. The entire college football landscape seems to be in cahoots, beating up on each other to the point where BSU could potentially be the only unbeaten team left.  If they were to win the national title, this would be the worst thing that could possibly happen, ever.  Like if Red Dawn actually happened, except worse because we wouldn't have Patrick Swayze to defend us.
5. My young friend Jordyn guessed my age at 38 today.  I am not.
6. I had a conference call today with the Rent's small group.  LIKE A BOSS!

All told, there's a lot of things that could go wrong this fall, and the sum of these is a ton of hurt for the Gibson boys.  The only thing that will redeem a year like this will be the immensely successful launch of the rossnation... PWI.  And then we'll be making it rain in the club.

Or whatever.

rossnation... out.

Addendum to What Once Was (Playoff Edition)

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I hate the Yankees.

What Once Was (Playoff Edition)

Last night I got to watch (in HD) the most significant sporting event of my life.  Not the most significant ever -- that would be hubris -- but for a young-at-heart-Texan-by-birth, watching the Texas Rangers win a playoff series in a deciding game was a revelation.  (Side note, the Miracle on Ice is probably the most significant, but I was negative two months old.  Mom didn't have HD in the womb.)
My first memory of any kind probably involves baseball.  But for sure, my first memory of sports involves the Texas Rangers.  Being born in Dallas gave me a birthright of sorts: the "gift" of falling head over cleats in love with a team that would never be good enough to break my heart.  I'll admit to dabbling in Oakland A's fandom in the late 80's, but we were all taken in by Jose Canseco's muscles, and Dennis Eckersley's mustache.  But my whole life I've been enamored of the red and blue, the extreme heat of a game in Arlington, taking my glove to the stadium, and Nolan Ryan (the greatest pitcher in the history of pitchers.)
The Rangers (nee Washington Senators) moved to Texas in 1972, which means 38 years of utter futility.  Before October 12, 2010 the Rangers were the only major league team that hadn't won a postseason series; that makes them the least successful team ever, kind of.  They've been to the playoffs three times in my life, and lost to the Yankees each time.  This is where my hatred for the Yankees originates, but it doesn't stop there.  And for a long time, I actually held the (semi) misguided idea that the Rangers actually lost when I was watching.  They always seemed to find ways to lose, like whoever was fighting Rocky.  At any rate, I've always loved the Rangers, and have always expected the worst.  Tonight was no different; they were in danger of dropping a third straight game to the Rays and effectively ending my baseball season, thus forcing me to place all of my hopes on the Dallas Cowboys.  Not an appetizing proposition.  This is the choice between waffles and cauliflower.  Gross.
But it didn't happen the way it usually does.  They got timely hits.  They ran with abandon.  The Rangers were even the beneficiary of a horrific call by the first base umpire.  But first and foremost, they had a pitcher.  A player they weren't afraid to send out every inning.  Even in the glory days of Nolan Ryan, I never knew if he was going to throw a no-hitter or get shelled for 8 runs in 3 innings.  But for some reason, Cliff Lee makes me feel totally safe.  And that is an uncomfortable feeling for a worrier.
When Elvis Andrus didn't drop a routine popup, thus winning the series, I didn't feel what expected.  I expected to feel a sense of euphoria, a sublime happiness that I would struggle to explain herein.  Instead, what I felt was more akin to ... contentment.  Like being with someone that you love, and not caring if there's something fun to do, or something good on tv.  You're just good.  This is only important because it made me realize what true happiness is: your team winning once every 40 years, an idea for a great invention*, and a nice pen.

rossnation... will try to explain himself later.

*PWI

Return of the Mack (I'm the Mack, btw)

I used to be wicked skinny.  Actually, scrawny might be a more appropriate word.  Consider this: in high school I could do pushups for days, because there was hardly anything to push up.  I have since "grown up."  (Or out, if you will, and I imagine you will, because rossnation... requires it.)

And all this was before I discovered the world's greatest weight loss program.  Please understand, I did not invent this program.  There is nothing new under the sun*, as the saying goes.  But I'm here to tell you that there is no better way to shed 20 ell bees, and it doesn't involve liposuction, treadmills/ellipticals, gym memberships, Dexatrim, or eating disorders.  All you need is 10 weeks in the world's hottest and least forgiving climate, and the will to survive.  In 1998, I had the former, and God gave me the latter.

Please let me clarify a few things for you.  To begin with, the rossnation... weight loss experience (rWLE) is neither easy nor cheap.  It will cost a fortune, actually, but is well worth it.  First, you need a plane ticket; Salt Lake City to Dallas, Dallas to Miami, Miami to Chicago, Chicago to Frankfurt, Frankfurt to Bombay, Bombay to New Delhi, New Delhi to Calcutta.  (This is the preferred route, but it can be adjusted; I've heard tale of flights that don't originate in SLC.)

Next, you need to take this trip in the summer.  The rWLE isn't nearly as effective when it's snowing in Canada.  I got off the plane in India in the dead of night, and it was over 100 degrees.  And as humid as Houston in August (and Mom and Dad wonder why I only visit at Christmas).  I've never experienced something comparable to it, and there's no need for a metaphor.  All I need say is that is was so hot/humid that I would be drenched in sweat immediately after getting out of the shower.  I was probably dry for a total of three hours that summer.  But now, rossnation... chooses not to sweat.

Step three is not a sure thing, but certainly a good bet.  Any guesses?  If you said giardia, you get a cookie.  (You'll have to buy the cookie yourself though; I ate all of my cookies.)  I'll never know exactly how I got my little friend, or my Dark Passenger, as I like to call it.  I was careful not to drink the water, but it turns out that protozoa don't care how cautious we are.  I'm actually pretty sure that protozoa don't have souls, but I'm researching it thoroughly, as I do with everything I write here.  At any rate, giardia makes for one helluva companion.  (We've been together 12 years now, and she keeps getting on me about forgetting anniversaries and writing thank you notes.)  I'm betting that any kind of stomach ailment will do just fine for your own rWLE.  Just as long as you're sick, that is the key.

If you're a huge fan of Indian food, the rWLE is probably not for you.  I wouldn't try to lose weight by living next to an In n' Out Burger.  But seeing how I don't especially care for curry and rice, I wasn't tempted to binge.  In fact, all I could really bring myself to eat was soup (aside, soup isn't really an Indian culinary specialty.)  Though I'm fairly certain that I may have eaten dog while I was there; no proof, but I've not eaten anything like it to this day.

The last step is the easiest.  You walk everywhere.  FYI, you can do this part at home, it's just not nearly as effective.  (Do you like how I just told you that exercise is possible in the US?  I thought so.  I DO WHAT I WANT!)  5 to 10 miles a day will do the trick.  

So, would you like to lose 20 pounds, even if you don't have it to spare?  Combine one part extreme heat with one dash of Mahatma's Revenge, stir in a dollop of undereating and a gallon of exercise daily.  (I think a food analogy is appropriate.)  You too can go from a trim 150 to a sparse 130.  This program is endorsed by Skeletor, and the funny looking kid in the picture.  Anyone else think it's ironic that the Indian street kid is fatter than me?

rossnation... out.

*Or so the Germans would have us believe.