Vinnie Tortorich

Earlier this afternoon I stopped in to Ralph’s grocery store. Anyone who doesn’t live in southern California should know that Ralph’s is to California what Piggly Wiggly is to the South. Does that chain even exist? Isn’t it all Wal-Mart now? But I digress. I was in the 15 items or less checkout aisle. The woman in front of me had a basket full of food, but nobody said anything. I’m sure everyone can tell that story. The fun started as I was leaving Ralph’s. In order to explain what happened to the rest of the world that reads this blog (by the way, I’m glad you’re reading it, I enjoy writing it), we have something that goes on in the Los Angeles area that doesn’t happen anywhere else except here. We have opportunities to see movies for free. A lot of times when you leave a bank, grocery store or anywhere that has a ton of traffic, there’s usually someone with a clipboard offering a free movie. It’s only free monetarily. You pay for it in other ways. Here’s how it works…guy asks if you’d like to see a free movie first. Most people who live here brush him off at this point. For the stooge who says sure, the sign up process begins. You get to see what you think will be a free movie. It’s anything but. If it’s put out by the big studios, it’s generally not a finished product. They’re using you to judge what they should go back and change. There’s usually a big questionnaire to answer at the end. If it’s done by a small movie house (“indie” film) you can bet your ass you’re going to watch crap. As I exited the store, the guy asked me if I wanted to take my kids to the movies. As I was getting ready to brush him off, I thought better of it. I turned and I put one hand on each of his shoulders and said, “Kids? I have kids? I didn’t know. I know there was that spring break in 1982 but they wouldn’t be kids. Then there was that chick on Melrose, but I used a condom. Where are they? Sir, you made me the happiest man on the planet. I thought I was going to die single and alone.” At this point the guys eyes were as wide as they could possibly get. He started to back away so my hands would leave his shoulders. He was confused. I removed my hands, then turned and walked away. I told you that to tell you this. About three hours after that, I arrived home. I was whipping up some dinner and turned on the little television on the corner of my kitchen counter. There I saw Larry King. He’s been doing some final interviews. It looks like he’s finally going off the air. To be honest, I thought he had died 20 years ago. For the first time ever, I watched a Larry King interview. Not because it may be one of the last times we ever see the great Larry King, but more so because he was interviewing the great Al Pacino. He was asking all the usual questions about Scent of a Woman, Sea of Love and, of course the all-time best movie ever, The Godfather. I’ve been an Al Pacino fan pretty much my entire life. He’s to me what Marlon Brando was to the generation before me. When you think of the body of work this guy has, like Scarface, The Godfathers (If you think there are three Godfathers, you’re not a fan. I don’t know what that third thing was). I guess your big question is: What does this have to do with fitness? I have to be honest with you. It has nothing to do with fitness. It’s holiday time, and tonight, I didn’t feel like writing about fitness. So I did what every other idiotic blogger in the world does and just wrote about my day. In the interest of full disclosure, I’m having a glass of an Italian apple-flavored liquor that’s almost impossible to find in this country. I brought a couple of bottles back with me from Capri and I savor every drop. It’s called Melanu. Happy holidays.

I’m often referred to by friends as the “Trainer to the Stars.” I’m not quite sure what that means. I’m not sure how it started, but I’m guessing it started from what we call here in L.A. “Star Fuckers.” They’re people who hang on to celebrities. The general feeling I get is, if you say you’re a “Trainer to the Stars” enough, people might believe it. There’s a story going around L.A. about a guy who wanted to get laid. He figured out that when he mentioned to women he was a waiter, they would flee as fast as they could. So to get himself some, he started calling himself a “producer.” He called himself a producer so much, he ended up becoming a producer. I guess you can take that story for what it’s worth. I don’t know the truth. This is a crazy town, and anything is possible. But I digress. I bring this up because the fact of the matter is I do work with celebrities. Oddly enough, the ones who are not celebrities are also in the business. They’re mainly producers, directors and writers. This morning I was training a client who has one of the biggest television editing companies in L.A. Beside being a good client of mine, he and his wife are also my best friends. To put it simply, when I found out I had cancer, they knew about it before my parents knew. This morning while training Bill, he was bragging about this show that his company edits. He said it’s become a big hit on NBC. It’s called “The Sing Off.” I said it must be new since I hadn’t heard of it. Bill told me it’s been on for two seasons, and it’s the hottest show in its time slot for many years. Bill played a bit of the show. It looked like an episode of Glee, minus Jane Lynch. It was rolled into an American Idol type format. I told you that to tell you this. When I was a kid, I could tell you everything on television, on what night and what time. Like most American kids in the 70s and 80s, nighttime television was the end all and be all. Some of my favorites were “All in the Family,” “Happy Days,” “Dallas” and even the NFL showcase game “Monday Night Football.” I told you that to tell you this. The only time my television comes on nowadays is when I’m sitting on my spinner putting in a couple hours. Sometimes it doesn’t even happen then. If I can download a book on to my iPod, that becomes my spinning entertainment. The question becomes, “What are we doing instead?” Well, from what I can tell just from talking to people, we’re doing something less healthy…spending time on the computer. If you’re reading this, you’re guilty. But please, by all means, don’t stop reading. The fact is we’ve taken one bad habit and changed it to one that’s worse. Why? At least with television, we generally watch with other people. Using the computer is a solo sport. We now have less communication.

John Kennedy Toole was born December 17, 1937 in New Orleans. He died on March 26, 1969 in Biloxi, Mississippi. Let me do the quick math for you: He was 31 years old. Toole took his own life by running a garden hose from the tailpipe of his car into a window. He was quite accomplished for a man of his years. After graduating from Tulane University, he studied English at Columbia University. He was in the military. He worked on the stage as an actor. He won national merit scholarships. He was absolutely brilliant. If you were to look him up on Wikipedia, you’d find one of the longer biographies there. I didn’t have to go there to learn about this man. I heard his story from a friend of a friend in New Orleans. Mrs. Linda Mintz was the romper room lady for the New Orleans area. She was good friends with Toole’s mother. Mrs. Mintz also became a good friend of mine. The story, as she tells it, was that Toole was one of the most talented men on the planet. There was nothing he couldn’t do. He was a Tennesee Williams of sorts. He was an actor. And most of all, he penned one of my favorite books of all-time, The Confederacy of Dunces. If you’ve never read it, I highly recommend it. I told you that to tell you this. Toole became depressed after he wrote his masterpiece. He couldn’t attract a publisher. He was constantly turned down. His depression led to thoughts of suicide. He just didn’t feel worthy of life. His mother didn’t want to see him die in vain. She shopped his book around. As I think the story goes, she went to a professor at Loyola in New Orleans. He took the book and read it. It went on to win the Pulitzer Prize. I talk to a lot of young adults who seem to be struggling today. They can’t seem to find work. And when they do, it’s a job at Starbucks (not what they went to college for). The thing that upsets this group the most, and I think it bothers most people in life, is when they see someone with less skills than they have doing better. I once had a coach in college who said “potential is crap.” He hated when people said athletes had great potential. He felt that the spoils should go to the guy or girl who worked the hardest and figured out a way to win. I love going to bike races and marathons. Some people come in well within the three hour mark. Yet others come in at six hours. The funny thing is, when I see the guy coming in at under three hours, I think to myself, “Great job, you did the work, congratulations.” When I see the guy coming in at six hours, hobbling across the line, I get the chills.

I’m going to admit something here. I’ve only read a few blogs my entire life. Or should I say, since blogging became a thing (which is not my entire life, but the last few years). You know what? I’ve never read one that I liked. Here’s why: In general, people don’t know how to write. The ones that do, don’t have anything useful to say. When it comes to doing their blog, they end up talking about what happened in their day. Then there is the blog’s first cousin…Twitter. Everyone told me I had to be on Twitter. So I signed up. I tried to play along for a while, tweeting and such. The crazy thing is people tweet everything. They can’t take a dump without letting you know about it. I’m still not sure what Twitter is for, or why we should care about it. I told you that to tell you this. When I started this Web site, SaveGasBurnFat.com, I was told to write a blog once or twice a week. That blog would build up my SEO, search engine optimization. I asked why blog once or twice a week? I can blog every day. I was told nobody could come up with something interesting to say every day. I asked, “Why not?” I’ve been on this planet 48 years. That’s roughly 17,520 days. I’ve seen a lot, learned a lot and lived a lot. I figured a blog was nothing more than spewing out that. Since I’ve started doing this blog consistently, I haven’t missed a day, except for Sundays when my friend Andy does his recipes. I want to thank him for that. People love his recipes. I get compliments from around the world. Thank you, Andy. I’ve published 214 blogs in a row. Let’s be honest, I’m full of crap, and this crap will be flowing for some time. I appreciate the loyal readers who return on a daily basis. I welcome each and every new reader. Thank you.

I’ve been looking into getting a new car lately. Every car I’ve had over the last 25 years has had four-wheel drive. When it came time for a new car a few years back, I went for the most economical car within my budget. I ended up with a Mini Cooper Clubman. It’s a great car. It’s rated as getting 37 miles per gallon combined. Mine did much better. I consistently got 40. Maybe it’s because I have the standard transmission. I’ve lived with the car for 50,000 miles. As much as I’ve tried, it just doesn’t work for my lifestyle. The area in the back isn’t big enough for all of the equipment I need in my everyday life. To be honest, the thing scares me on the L.A. freeways. To the uninitiated, people are constantly crashing into the backs of other people. It’s like bumper cars out there. I’m not sure I would survive being crunched from behind in that car. The biggest problem: No four-wheel drive. I’m a guy who does some off-roading, but more so, a lot of skiing. Anyone who’s been in the High Sierras knows that a blizzard can happen at any moment during the winter. My goal was to find the least expensive, yet capable, SUV I could get. The two finalists in my search became the Wrangler Unlimited and the Toyota FJ Cruiser. Like most people in the civilized world, I did most of my research on the Internet, reading several reviews of both vehicles. Every review listed both cars as capable off-road vehicles. Just about every reviewer said these cars offer rough rides. On my recent trip to Mammoth Lakes, California, I rented the unlimited. I ended up not liking it. It burned lots of fuel and was under-powered. But you know what? The ride wasn’t so bad. Last week I test drove the FJ Cruiser. It did seem to have ample power. Once again, the ride wasn’t so bad. The current car I’m driving is supposed to have a rough ride. Again, I find it quite comfortable. This leads me to my thought. Have we become that much of a pussy nation? We can’t handle a little road noise? We can feel one bump in the road? Do we really need ten-speaker sound systems? And climate control for passengers and drivers? Individually heated seats to keep our tushies warm? Plush carpet? And one of my favorite pussy features: Keyless entry. Are we so lazy that we can’t stick a key in a hole? Don’t get me started on back up cameras. Have we lost the ability to use a rearview mirror, or to simply turn around and look? Cars are not entertainment centers. Why do we have video players in cars? We can’t be without television for one second? Is this what we’ve become? I told you that to tell you this. Gyms have become just as bad as the auto world. I’ve often said people who sell gym memberships are no better than car salesmen. They gym system has followed the car world by making things too plush. Let me explain. When I started working out in 1972 at the ripe old age of 10, the gym I worked out in had barbells, dumbbells, power racks for squats and benches for bench pressing. The surface of the bench was made of wood. There was no upholstery. That gym is the antithesis of what I walk into today. There’s actually a gym on the west side of L.A. that has valet parking. It’s not the only one, by the way. People don’t want to walk from the parking lot to the gym where they will get on a treadmill and….walk! I’ve been in gyms that have elevators to the second floor. You can get out of the elevator and get on a…stair machine! Gyms are also cluttered with weight lifting machines, all designed to go in one direction. Unlike with free weight, you have to balance nothing. I spend a lot of time listening to people wax poetic about core strength. Trust me, if you’re free weight squatting, benching, cleaning or shoulder pressing, you will be working your…core! Some gyms barely have a free weight section. I think it’s one of the biggest injustices in fitness in years. While I’m on the subject, you won’t get in shape using an oversized beach ball. Do situps like a man…or a woman, if you happen to be one. If you’re not sure what a situp should look like, watch any Rocky movie. It’ll have more than enough regimens. In case you are wondering what I decided on, I went with the FJ Cruiser. Unfortunately, it came with keyless entry.

Some time in the late 1980s when I was still in New Orleans, I went to the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival. It was becoming a big deal. It started from nothing and got bigger over the years. Needless to say, New Orleans knows how to throw a party. Trust me, the Jazz Fest is a great party. What used to be one weekend has spread to two. People all over the world attend. You get the best of the best when it comes to music and food. In true New Orleans fashion, everyone is fat, happy and usually drunk. Something else I liked about the festival: It happened in the spring. It was right around when the weather warms up. Women wear a lot less clothes. It’s not unusual to find bikinis or bikni tops. They catch a little sun, and hock their wares. The guys did the same thing, and I was no different. I lost my shirt as soon as I walked into the area. I was walking around with a friend of mine, Renee. She noticed I was getting some catcalls from drunk women. She said something that has stuck with me to this day. She said “No matter how much working out you do or how much dieting you do, by the time you hit 30, you won’t look like that anymore.” What? She continued, “No matter what, you’re going to have love handles.” I told you that to tell you this. There’s a term you don’t hear much anymore….”Middle age spread.” Maybe it’s because words change. Maybe America got so fat that we just go right to a gut and not the middle age spread. We don’t say “golly” and “gee” anymore. We don’t say “page me” either. We say “E-mail me” or “Text me.” Why would we keep “middle age spread” around? For those who have never heard it, I’d like to give a brief definition. As we get older, both men and women, begin to lose their hormones. Men have less testosterone, women have less estrogen. As we get older, men begin to look like women, and women begin to look like men. I’ve always said both Robert Redford and Paul McCartney are beginning to look like Angelea Lansbury, yet they don’t look like each other. But I digress. As women and men lose these hormones, they begin to lose muscle mass and bone mass. When this begins, you generally see an increase in fat around the waist. Men get those ever-so attractive man boobs. It looks like y0ur body is spreading out, thus the term. There are a couple of solutions. The easy fix is to go to a doctor and get hormone replacements. I wouldn’t suggest it. Just like most drugs, the hormones fix one problem and create a myriad of other problems. There’s another way to combat this problem of aging, or I guess you can say aging as a disease. It can be done with weight lifting. Not only does it maintain that pound of muscle you would have lost per year after your 32nd birthday, but heavy enough weight lifting has been linked to causing your body to produce human growth hormones naturally. Research says it only happens momentarily, but that’s better than nothing. If you want to fight it further, you can add three to five hours of aerobic activity per week. This will cause you to sweat out electrolytes like calcium and magnesium, which your body needs to build strong bones. Supplementing is highly encouraged. As far as what my friend Renee had to say about my love handles…I didn’t get them at 30. I didn’t get them at 40. I’m knocking on 50, and they’re nowhere in sight, Renee.