Hey, if you still check this blog, you are uncool.
Why?
Because several months ago I moved to a newer, younger, hotter, better and more sexually-active blogsite here!
If you can't do links, the full web address of my new blog is:
http://dustincharles.wordpress.com/
Please stop checking this one, you're just embarrassing yourself. Go bookmark the new one, and tell your friends to do the same.
Cheers,
Dustin
http://twitter.com/ocdustino
http://dustincharles.wordpress.com/
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Friday, July 31, 2009
Poor Excuse
Run-On Sentence: so clearly i am just a lazy, unmotivated person, HOWEVER i have a somewhat legitimate excuse for not writing here much...for the one or two people in the world that haven't had me whine to them about it, i sliced up my middle finger on my right hand pretty badly several weeks back, and typing has been a painful chore that's been beyond my ability for quite some time. just recently i've gotten to the point where i can kind of type without use of my injured finger or causing myself pain, but not for long.
Supplementary Sentences: so when i'm back to full typing/writing strength, you'll know it. in the meantime, here's a picture of my life-threatening finger injury.
1,000 Words:
this is an older shot of the wound, about a month after it happened. numbness on one side, extreme pain, and the total inability to put any weight/pressure on it. fun times. it's really cut into my calligraphy training.
cheers,
dustin "nine-digit" heveron
Supplementary Sentences: so when i'm back to full typing/writing strength, you'll know it. in the meantime, here's a picture of my life-threatening finger injury.
1,000 Words:
this is an older shot of the wound, about a month after it happened. numbness on one side, extreme pain, and the total inability to put any weight/pressure on it. fun times. it's really cut into my calligraphy training.
cheers,
dustin "nine-digit" heveron
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
An Apology From Mark Cuban
In a rare piece of legitimate reporting, we here at Heveron Industries managed to hack Mark Cuban’s blackberry and download this important document — an apparent apology — right from the King Douche himself.
Note: For those of you blissfully unaware, Mark Cuban is the owner of the NBA team, The Dallas Mavericks. He is famous for writing the world’s most blindly self-centered, close-minded blog, being almost totally ignorant about how professional basketball works, yelling at refs even though he is not a coach/player/assistant, consistently displaying a total lack of any discernable sportsmanship, and wasting roughly 11 million dollars in luxury tax to have aged point guard Jason Kidd do his best coma impression for 82+ games a year. Oh, and he also punched a camera man for no reason and yelled obscenities at a player’s mom…on Mother’s Day weekend. A real class act. His apology is presented below.
“Dear To Whom it May Concern,
Hi, my name is Mark Cuban (but don’t worry, I’m not actually Cuban — since I didn’t come to this country on a piece of driftwood and I don’t work for minimum wage at a Denny’s kitchen in Miami. By the way, I’m a huge racist). In light of recent events, I thought it would be a good idea to let the world see into my thought process about why I act the way I do. Normally I would just say you should read my blog to see my thoughts written out, but we both know that my blog is far too one-sided and ignorantly written to actually be capable of conveying any real thoughts or emotions. Hell, if I posted something eloquent, sincere and balanced on there, people would probably assume it was someone else writing it, like a sort of April Fool’s gag or something that I had written up by a secretary. And then once I had that secretary explain what the word “eloquent” means, I’d fire her for even suggesting the idea in the first place. And of course all my secretaries are female, because I don’t think women are capable of any task more complex than doing laundry or taking dictation — unless you count getting pregnant and raising a family as a job (which I don’t. By the way, I’m a huge sexist).
So why am I the way I am? Why am I a bitter, ugly man with a chip on his shoulder as big as the trustfund that I didn’t have to work for? And what business do I have being involved in professional athletics of any sort? Well, as with most things, I suppose it all comes back to my childhood. As a perpetually out of shape white boy who only grew to 6’3”, I was never very good at sports growing up. I was mocked on and off the field, bullied in the locker room, made fun of in classes (mostly by my teachers), and just generally disliked for being such an unbelievable jerk. And I was often picked last for doucheball (a sport played exclusively by us rich kids who have never had the sense of what a hard day’s work is, or any sense of gratitude of values — it’s how we get so good at being douches in our adult lives). So naturally when all the odds said I’d never be able to play professional sports, and my grades were too low to do anything meaningful with my life, I decided that the best solution would be for me to do what rich people had been doing for years — just throw obscene amounts of money at something and yell at people to improve my self esteem. And that’s just what I did. Sure, everyone knows that despite all of that cash, I’m really little more than a glorified season ticketholder, but that doesn’t keep me from acting like I invented the F-ing NBA and the sport of basketball in general.
As far as my temper, well I’ve never really been clear on how basketball actually works, but I’ve found a pretty good trick that’s really helped me over the years. All you have to do is just watch your team’s coaches and players during the game, and when they get a little mad about something, then you get way, way madder! It sounds so simple, I’ll bet you can’t believe you hadn’t thought of it yourself. For instance, when our marquis player, Dirk Nowitzki (I think he’s from Mexico, because I think all foreign people come from Mexico. By the way, I’m still a huge racist), gets upset about a call, and maybe has an angry look on his face and expresses his anger to one of his teammates, then I know that’s my cue to go batsh*t crazy and start flipping out on everyone within earshot and arm’s reach. Everyone will be so caught off guard by how psycho you can act that they’ll never even realize it’s because you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, and that you have absolutely no idea what’s going on. Of course that’s the subtler route, and might be hard for beginners. If you want an easier example, just wait till the end of the game. If you’re at the home court and your team wins, they always shoot off fireballs or confetti or something like that. So when the game ends, if they don’t shoot off anything, then that’s when you start screaming every swear word you can think of, and shoving everyone who’s anywhere near you (this included pregnant women, the elderly, other people’s mothers and below-the-line workers such as cameramen and concessions salesmen). And when you’re at road games, just do it vice versa. When those confetti cannons shoot off, that’s your cue to shoot off just as loudly.
That brings me to another popular question I’d like to address. The question I get all the time is, “why — out of the league’s 32 teams — are you the only owner who feels the need to sit courtside and act like a megadouche instead of sitting up in the owner’s box on the club level that’s reserved for exactly that sort of thing, where you’d at least be able to keep your childish antics out of the public eye?” And the simple answer is, I’m not allowed. Like all rich people, I don’t have any idea where my money actually comes from, or where it goes, so I have a bunch of people I pay to tell me those things. And the one condition that all those people stipulated in their contracts was that they be allowed to watch the games in the owner’s box, without me there. I think it’s because they probably just want some time together to talk about how much they like me, how great of an owner/boss I am, and how much they like it when I explode into a violent rage for no reason and fire them. I didn’t have the heart to deny them that special time together, so I fired the person who suggested it and then let the rest of them sit in the owner’s box without me. It’s probably more appropriate that they sit there anyway, since they know way more about what it takes to run an NBA team than I do — although I do get to take some credit for some decisions…after all, whose idea was it to make a massively-uninformed trade and spend 11 million in luxury tax PLUS the cost of his contract for 35-year-old point guard Jason Kidd? That’s right, baby, it was all this guy — Mark Cuban. In fact, I still remember the day after that trade, as I was listening-in to all my employees’ conversations with the Watergate-style phone taps and bugged offices that I’ve implemented over the years, I heard all of them saying that the trade was ‘Pure Cuban’ or ‘exactly the kind of move you’d only see Mark Cuban make’ or ‘like some sort of sick joke that only that nimrod from the front office would push for.’ I never did look up what ‘nimrod’ means, but I’m pretty sure it’s Icelandic for ‘wise chief who makes wise decisions and slays many seals. With wisdom.’
Anyways, I guess I’m gonna mosey on to the NBA commissioner’s office and bitch about a legitimate non-call for a couple hours, rather than explaining to my team and coaches what exactly a hard/intentional foul is, because that’s the only solution I can come up with.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot this was supposed to be an apology letter.
You’re sorry.
There, now it’s all apologized up. Man, I bet even more people love me now.
Happy Tuesday and go Mavs (also, if anyone can tell me what ‘Mavs’ is short for, I’d be really thankful. So thankful that I might not even fire you on the spot for making eye contact),
Mark Elizabeth Cuban"
"And just to show that I still respect Mother's Day, here's a picture of me and my mother (Mrs. Cuban) from Mother's Day Brunch on Sunday. See? We still care about each other. Now you know that Mark Cuban loves his mom almost as much as his drinking problem."
Note: For those of you blissfully unaware, Mark Cuban is the owner of the NBA team, The Dallas Mavericks. He is famous for writing the world’s most blindly self-centered, close-minded blog, being almost totally ignorant about how professional basketball works, yelling at refs even though he is not a coach/player/assistant, consistently displaying a total lack of any discernable sportsmanship, and wasting roughly 11 million dollars in luxury tax to have aged point guard Jason Kidd do his best coma impression for 82+ games a year. Oh, and he also punched a camera man for no reason and yelled obscenities at a player’s mom…on Mother’s Day weekend. A real class act. His apology is presented below.
“Dear To Whom it May Concern,
Hi, my name is Mark Cuban (but don’t worry, I’m not actually Cuban — since I didn’t come to this country on a piece of driftwood and I don’t work for minimum wage at a Denny’s kitchen in Miami. By the way, I’m a huge racist). In light of recent events, I thought it would be a good idea to let the world see into my thought process about why I act the way I do. Normally I would just say you should read my blog to see my thoughts written out, but we both know that my blog is far too one-sided and ignorantly written to actually be capable of conveying any real thoughts or emotions. Hell, if I posted something eloquent, sincere and balanced on there, people would probably assume it was someone else writing it, like a sort of April Fool’s gag or something that I had written up by a secretary. And then once I had that secretary explain what the word “eloquent” means, I’d fire her for even suggesting the idea in the first place. And of course all my secretaries are female, because I don’t think women are capable of any task more complex than doing laundry or taking dictation — unless you count getting pregnant and raising a family as a job (which I don’t. By the way, I’m a huge sexist).
So why am I the way I am? Why am I a bitter, ugly man with a chip on his shoulder as big as the trustfund that I didn’t have to work for? And what business do I have being involved in professional athletics of any sort? Well, as with most things, I suppose it all comes back to my childhood. As a perpetually out of shape white boy who only grew to 6’3”, I was never very good at sports growing up. I was mocked on and off the field, bullied in the locker room, made fun of in classes (mostly by my teachers), and just generally disliked for being such an unbelievable jerk. And I was often picked last for doucheball (a sport played exclusively by us rich kids who have never had the sense of what a hard day’s work is, or any sense of gratitude of values — it’s how we get so good at being douches in our adult lives). So naturally when all the odds said I’d never be able to play professional sports, and my grades were too low to do anything meaningful with my life, I decided that the best solution would be for me to do what rich people had been doing for years — just throw obscene amounts of money at something and yell at people to improve my self esteem. And that’s just what I did. Sure, everyone knows that despite all of that cash, I’m really little more than a glorified season ticketholder, but that doesn’t keep me from acting like I invented the F-ing NBA and the sport of basketball in general.
As far as my temper, well I’ve never really been clear on how basketball actually works, but I’ve found a pretty good trick that’s really helped me over the years. All you have to do is just watch your team’s coaches and players during the game, and when they get a little mad about something, then you get way, way madder! It sounds so simple, I’ll bet you can’t believe you hadn’t thought of it yourself. For instance, when our marquis player, Dirk Nowitzki (I think he’s from Mexico, because I think all foreign people come from Mexico. By the way, I’m still a huge racist), gets upset about a call, and maybe has an angry look on his face and expresses his anger to one of his teammates, then I know that’s my cue to go batsh*t crazy and start flipping out on everyone within earshot and arm’s reach. Everyone will be so caught off guard by how psycho you can act that they’ll never even realize it’s because you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, and that you have absolutely no idea what’s going on. Of course that’s the subtler route, and might be hard for beginners. If you want an easier example, just wait till the end of the game. If you’re at the home court and your team wins, they always shoot off fireballs or confetti or something like that. So when the game ends, if they don’t shoot off anything, then that’s when you start screaming every swear word you can think of, and shoving everyone who’s anywhere near you (this included pregnant women, the elderly, other people’s mothers and below-the-line workers such as cameramen and concessions salesmen). And when you’re at road games, just do it vice versa. When those confetti cannons shoot off, that’s your cue to shoot off just as loudly.
That brings me to another popular question I’d like to address. The question I get all the time is, “why — out of the league’s 32 teams — are you the only owner who feels the need to sit courtside and act like a megadouche instead of sitting up in the owner’s box on the club level that’s reserved for exactly that sort of thing, where you’d at least be able to keep your childish antics out of the public eye?” And the simple answer is, I’m not allowed. Like all rich people, I don’t have any idea where my money actually comes from, or where it goes, so I have a bunch of people I pay to tell me those things. And the one condition that all those people stipulated in their contracts was that they be allowed to watch the games in the owner’s box, without me there. I think it’s because they probably just want some time together to talk about how much they like me, how great of an owner/boss I am, and how much they like it when I explode into a violent rage for no reason and fire them. I didn’t have the heart to deny them that special time together, so I fired the person who suggested it and then let the rest of them sit in the owner’s box without me. It’s probably more appropriate that they sit there anyway, since they know way more about what it takes to run an NBA team than I do — although I do get to take some credit for some decisions…after all, whose idea was it to make a massively-uninformed trade and spend 11 million in luxury tax PLUS the cost of his contract for 35-year-old point guard Jason Kidd? That’s right, baby, it was all this guy — Mark Cuban. In fact, I still remember the day after that trade, as I was listening-in to all my employees’ conversations with the Watergate-style phone taps and bugged offices that I’ve implemented over the years, I heard all of them saying that the trade was ‘Pure Cuban’ or ‘exactly the kind of move you’d only see Mark Cuban make’ or ‘like some sort of sick joke that only that nimrod from the front office would push for.’ I never did look up what ‘nimrod’ means, but I’m pretty sure it’s Icelandic for ‘wise chief who makes wise decisions and slays many seals. With wisdom.’
Anyways, I guess I’m gonna mosey on to the NBA commissioner’s office and bitch about a legitimate non-call for a couple hours, rather than explaining to my team and coaches what exactly a hard/intentional foul is, because that’s the only solution I can come up with.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot this was supposed to be an apology letter.
You’re sorry.
There, now it’s all apologized up. Man, I bet even more people love me now.
Happy Tuesday and go Mavs (also, if anyone can tell me what ‘Mavs’ is short for, I’d be really thankful. So thankful that I might not even fire you on the spot for making eye contact),
Mark Elizabeth Cuban"
"And just to show that I still respect Mother's Day, here's a picture of me and my mother (Mrs. Cuban) from Mother's Day Brunch on Sunday. See? We still care about each other. Now you know that Mark Cuban loves his mom almost as much as his drinking problem."
Friday, May 1, 2009
Today’s Top Ten Twilight Teachings
I have read the entire Twilight series. I even saw the movie. In theaters. For the most part, I chalked these activities up to the duties of being an elder brother to my high-school-aged sister, however I’ve since realized that Twilight and its subsequent books have valuable lessons to teach all of us, not just the Pattison-crazed teenagers. Since most of you are dense and unenlightened, I will spell out these important teachings for you now…because like I just mentioned, you are too slow-witted to figure them out on your own (I had to say it again because you probably forgot why I was telling in the first place — that’s how moronic you are).
On an unrelated note, I just read someplace that belittling other people improves your self-esteem and helps you lose weight — all while putting on valuable muscle, so I’m trying that out. At least I think that’s what it said. I only read at a third-grade level, so I’m not really sure. But I digress (anyone know what that word means?!).
Today’s Top Ten Twilight Teachings (and every day’s — I don’t think this will be an ongoing thing, I just wanted to add to the alliteration by throwing “today’s” in front).
1) You are only as young as you feel. And look. Subsequently, you are only bound by rules and laws that apply to however old you feel/look. For example, I used to think it was illegal to date 17-year-olds if you were older than 18. However, thanks to Twilight, I now know that it’s NOT illegal to date 17-year-olds as long as you look 17 or act 17 or are in high school! Even if you’re 18! Even if you’re 20! Even if you’re an undead creature with no soul pushing 90-something! It’s all good in the hood as long as you still resemble that picture on your temp driver’s license.
2) Immortals are sharp dressers. It’s a rule that the older you get, the better dresser you are, and the cooler you become in general. Observe our society: whom do we turn to when we need to know the next hot fashion trend or a when we need a guide to this season’s “in” look? The elderly, duh! So it stands to reason that if someone lived for centuries ad nauseam, that they would just endlessly adapt to current trends and fashions and gadgets — just like all octogenarians do as they age. Whoops, I lost track of time, I need to run to the local senior citizen center so I can get a sneak peak at 2010’s hot looks.
3) Vampires love baseball. Well not baseball in general, just the Cubs. Mostly because frozen-in-time vampires from the 1800’s are the only people still around who remember the last time the Cubs won a world series.
4) Vampires aren’t affected by girls on their periods. Even intrinsic, demonic bloodlust has its limits. …Yeah, I even grossed myself out on that one, so I’m just gonna go ahead and stop that one there.
5) Vampires can’t ever be seen in the sunlight because it would blow their cover. Unless they need to plan an impromptu trip to Phoenix in the spring just to get away from it all. All vampires look like they're covered with a million tiny diamonds that glisten and flicker and shine when they're exposed to direct sunlight, so the only time they're allowed someplace sunny is when they just really, really need to go to Phoenix for a few days. Or if they're attending an outdoor Bette Midler concert, since most of her fans would be covered in sparkly sequins anyway, and they'd fit right in.
6) Stephanie Meyer isn’t a very good writer. Good come-up-with-a-story-person, but not really much for prose. Next time, pay a ghostwriter. Or an editor who will cut out about 450 pages’ worth of “he’s so dreamy, he can’t possibly love me…even though he says he does. Oh, I'm so insecure!” inner-monologues over the course of the series.
7) Vampires are anorexic and/or bulimic. Eating disorders are real and serious, not just some imaginary teen fiction fare like Italian vampire regimes and the swine flu. All through Twilight, we see that the vampires don’t let themselves eat human food, just so they can maintain the ridiculous standards of vampire attractiveness forced upon them by the liberal vampire media and its unhealthily-pale, malnourished and sickly models. And when they do eat, they just puke the human food back up later. Not cool. My personal philosophy is that everyone should eat what they want, when they want, as often as they want. If you’re worried about getting out of shape because of it, just go exercise a reasonable amount. I thought vampires would’ve figured out something that simple by now.
8) Vampires can only spend money on gifts. Over the centuries, the Cullen family has accumulated a vast amount of wealth and untold treasures. But just like their curse of not being able to wear any clothing that isn’t a shade of white/gray, vampires can only spend their money on gifts for each other, or other people. For instance there’s a car this one girl vampire really, really wants for most of the books, but instead of tapping into her family’s vast riches and buying it for herself like an adult, she’s forced to wait until one of her adopted siblings buys it for her. Mo’ money, mo’ problems. Even in vampire world.
9) It’s totally cool to sneak into a random girl’s bedroom and watch her sleep all night — as long as you don’t get caught and you can’t read her thoughts. I always thought this was a felony, but it turns out it’s actually just a really good way to get to know your crush. Personally I prefer social-network stalking (have you updated your facebook or twitter or blog or linkedin in the past sixty seconds? I have!), but Twilight taught me that if you have a crush on someone and you really like them, then it’s much quicker to watch them sleep at night. All night. Every night. Just imagine how much you’ll have to talk about when you finally get introduced! It’s more informative than an eharmony profile, and way less expensive!
10) The best way to handle a rough breakup is to fall into a coma, or to pursue near-suicidal hobbies. Nothing says “hey young female readers who are still trying to figure out how to cope with life, this is the example you should follow” more than having your female lead completely go mental after her first real breakup. The specific way to carry out this technique — known as the “Meyer Method” in most psychiatric wards across the country — is to first dive headfirst into a sort of living coma where you neglect all your family, friends and loved ones and basically just shut out the entire world while you cling desperately to the shattered remains of a high school relationship that lasted less than a year. You’ll know you’re doing step one properly when you can’t remember entire chunks of your life, food has no taste, the world has no colors, and you go for months on end without smiling or engaging in a full conversation with another human. The second part of this can’t-miss reconciliation technique is to regularly put yourself in any and all life-threatening situations you can think of, in the hopes that you can have an imaginary conversation with your ex-boyfriend for a few fleeting moments as the byproduct of your broken and shattered psyche. This is particularly effective if you’re a somewhat frail and uncoordinated teenage girl, as it’s easier to create potentially deadly situations out of everyday circumstances. Base jumping, Russian roulette, unprotected sex with someone carrying the AIDS virus — anything goes as long as it results in your battered mind producing some sham interaction with your former high school fling.
Welp, that's all the knowledge I'm legally allowed to share with you at this point — and I'll tell you what, if there's one thing I can't call Stephanie Meyer out for, it's being long-winded. Because good Lord, I certainly take the cake on that one.
Ok kids, the Heat are up by 31, forcing the second most interesting game seven of the first round of NBA playoffs, so I’ma run to the gym and share my vast knowledge of teen vampire drama and pointless NBA stats with all the women who are about to shut me down. It should be a good night.
Peace, love, and rock!
Dustin
"Well you certainly don't FEEL 17 when I hold you like this. You feel more like 19 or 20. That probably makes it ok."
On an unrelated note, I just read someplace that belittling other people improves your self-esteem and helps you lose weight — all while putting on valuable muscle, so I’m trying that out. At least I think that’s what it said. I only read at a third-grade level, so I’m not really sure. But I digress (anyone know what that word means?!).
Today’s Top Ten Twilight Teachings (and every day’s — I don’t think this will be an ongoing thing, I just wanted to add to the alliteration by throwing “today’s” in front).
1) You are only as young as you feel. And look. Subsequently, you are only bound by rules and laws that apply to however old you feel/look. For example, I used to think it was illegal to date 17-year-olds if you were older than 18. However, thanks to Twilight, I now know that it’s NOT illegal to date 17-year-olds as long as you look 17 or act 17 or are in high school! Even if you’re 18! Even if you’re 20! Even if you’re an undead creature with no soul pushing 90-something! It’s all good in the hood as long as you still resemble that picture on your temp driver’s license.
2) Immortals are sharp dressers. It’s a rule that the older you get, the better dresser you are, and the cooler you become in general. Observe our society: whom do we turn to when we need to know the next hot fashion trend or a when we need a guide to this season’s “in” look? The elderly, duh! So it stands to reason that if someone lived for centuries ad nauseam, that they would just endlessly adapt to current trends and fashions and gadgets — just like all octogenarians do as they age. Whoops, I lost track of time, I need to run to the local senior citizen center so I can get a sneak peak at 2010’s hot looks.
3) Vampires love baseball. Well not baseball in general, just the Cubs. Mostly because frozen-in-time vampires from the 1800’s are the only people still around who remember the last time the Cubs won a world series.
4) Vampires aren’t affected by girls on their periods. Even intrinsic, demonic bloodlust has its limits. …Yeah, I even grossed myself out on that one, so I’m just gonna go ahead and stop that one there.
5) Vampires can’t ever be seen in the sunlight because it would blow their cover. Unless they need to plan an impromptu trip to Phoenix in the spring just to get away from it all. All vampires look like they're covered with a million tiny diamonds that glisten and flicker and shine when they're exposed to direct sunlight, so the only time they're allowed someplace sunny is when they just really, really need to go to Phoenix for a few days. Or if they're attending an outdoor Bette Midler concert, since most of her fans would be covered in sparkly sequins anyway, and they'd fit right in.
6) Stephanie Meyer isn’t a very good writer. Good come-up-with-a-story-person, but not really much for prose. Next time, pay a ghostwriter. Or an editor who will cut out about 450 pages’ worth of “he’s so dreamy, he can’t possibly love me…even though he says he does. Oh, I'm so insecure!” inner-monologues over the course of the series.
7) Vampires are anorexic and/or bulimic. Eating disorders are real and serious, not just some imaginary teen fiction fare like Italian vampire regimes and the swine flu. All through Twilight, we see that the vampires don’t let themselves eat human food, just so they can maintain the ridiculous standards of vampire attractiveness forced upon them by the liberal vampire media and its unhealthily-pale, malnourished and sickly models. And when they do eat, they just puke the human food back up later. Not cool. My personal philosophy is that everyone should eat what they want, when they want, as often as they want. If you’re worried about getting out of shape because of it, just go exercise a reasonable amount. I thought vampires would’ve figured out something that simple by now.
8) Vampires can only spend money on gifts. Over the centuries, the Cullen family has accumulated a vast amount of wealth and untold treasures. But just like their curse of not being able to wear any clothing that isn’t a shade of white/gray, vampires can only spend their money on gifts for each other, or other people. For instance there’s a car this one girl vampire really, really wants for most of the books, but instead of tapping into her family’s vast riches and buying it for herself like an adult, she’s forced to wait until one of her adopted siblings buys it for her. Mo’ money, mo’ problems. Even in vampire world.
9) It’s totally cool to sneak into a random girl’s bedroom and watch her sleep all night — as long as you don’t get caught and you can’t read her thoughts. I always thought this was a felony, but it turns out it’s actually just a really good way to get to know your crush. Personally I prefer social-network stalking (have you updated your facebook or twitter or blog or linkedin in the past sixty seconds? I have!), but Twilight taught me that if you have a crush on someone and you really like them, then it’s much quicker to watch them sleep at night. All night. Every night. Just imagine how much you’ll have to talk about when you finally get introduced! It’s more informative than an eharmony profile, and way less expensive!
10) The best way to handle a rough breakup is to fall into a coma, or to pursue near-suicidal hobbies. Nothing says “hey young female readers who are still trying to figure out how to cope with life, this is the example you should follow” more than having your female lead completely go mental after her first real breakup. The specific way to carry out this technique — known as the “Meyer Method” in most psychiatric wards across the country — is to first dive headfirst into a sort of living coma where you neglect all your family, friends and loved ones and basically just shut out the entire world while you cling desperately to the shattered remains of a high school relationship that lasted less than a year. You’ll know you’re doing step one properly when you can’t remember entire chunks of your life, food has no taste, the world has no colors, and you go for months on end without smiling or engaging in a full conversation with another human. The second part of this can’t-miss reconciliation technique is to regularly put yourself in any and all life-threatening situations you can think of, in the hopes that you can have an imaginary conversation with your ex-boyfriend for a few fleeting moments as the byproduct of your broken and shattered psyche. This is particularly effective if you’re a somewhat frail and uncoordinated teenage girl, as it’s easier to create potentially deadly situations out of everyday circumstances. Base jumping, Russian roulette, unprotected sex with someone carrying the AIDS virus — anything goes as long as it results in your battered mind producing some sham interaction with your former high school fling.
Welp, that's all the knowledge I'm legally allowed to share with you at this point — and I'll tell you what, if there's one thing I can't call Stephanie Meyer out for, it's being long-winded. Because good Lord, I certainly take the cake on that one.
Ok kids, the Heat are up by 31, forcing the second most interesting game seven of the first round of NBA playoffs, so I’ma run to the gym and share my vast knowledge of teen vampire drama and pointless NBA stats with all the women who are about to shut me down. It should be a good night.
Peace, love, and rock!
Dustin
"Well you certainly don't FEEL 17 when I hold you like this. You feel more like 19 or 20. That probably makes it ok."
Monday, April 27, 2009
No One in the Cyrus Family is Even Remotely Attractive
It’s a foggy morning in LA by the ocean, and I started today like I start most of my Mondays — looking through Brandi Cyrus’ myspace page (she’s Miley’s older half-sister). Now Brandi might only be 50% related to teen star Miley, but she certainly got 100% of the ugly genes that are floating atop that family’s genetic pool like fermented, mutant algae. Misshapen, asymmetrical faces, hair like a bad wig, and the world’s worst tooth-to-gum ratio on record are just some of this family’s trademark looks. Now I realize that I’m not the most handsome man in the world…wait, scratch that, I just got a phone call from HMI (Handsome Man International) informing me that I actually AM this year’s “Most Handsome Man in the World” so I guess that means I’m extra qualified to call out the Cyruses and the achy-breaky effect their faces have on mirrors. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against unattractive people in general (Tori Spelling), I just think that if you have the kind of face that makes babies reflexively burst into tears (Howard Stern), then you shouldn’t be plastering that face all over my tv/movies/internet/city. Luckily, we live in a society where men are primarily judged by what’s on the inside, not the outside, so I’m gonna be just fine for years to come — well after my stellar, boyish looks fade into the wise, rugged handsomeness that comes with age — but women aren’t that lucky. Sorry ladies, I don’t make the rules, I just alienate people by pointing out said rules. You’re welcome.
In other news, my continued quest to completely and utterly destroy my liver, leaving nothing more than a shriveled, mangled ball of vodka in its place (yes, you heard me, a ball of vodka. I’m not sure if it’s possible, but I’m gonna keep trying anyway) came to another sad defeat this weekend. I pulled out all the stops, too: had friends in from out of town, attended another friend’s going away party — all the usual tricks for manually forcing your liver to shut down — but nothing seemed to work, and I sit here before you on Monday morning decked out in full University of Michigan attire (PJ pants, hoodie) as a broken, defeated man. Oh well, there’s always next weekend. And since technically my “next weekend” starts today, I had better get my gameface on asap.
I had a friend point out to me the score of the Ohio State Suckeyes’ spring game the other day, and how massive the attendance was. I think she said the score was something like 23-3, Gray beating Scarlet. Now while I love any excuse to salvage football out of an otherwise baseball-laden season, I couldn’t really understand why she was so excited about the score. Because she told me about it as excitedly as if it were an actual game, but the thing is, IT’S NOT. To me, if one side really houses the other in the spring game, that just says to me that either your defense is way worse than your offense, or that your A-Squad is way better than you B-Squad — which is how it’s supposed to be, I’m pretty sure. So if you’re excited about the score of that game, it either means you don’t understand how football works (a definite option with this girl), or you’re legitimately surprised that your first team is significantly better than you second team. Either way, not a good sign. You know what the score of the Michigan Wolverines’ spring game was? Neither do I. Because it doesn’t matter. Don’t get me wrong, I would’ve loved to attend the game and see how our boys look for this season, but since I live 3,000 miles away and I’m not being recruited to play football for U of M, seeing that game in person isn’t really an option. The only score that should matter for OSU football players at this point in the season is that 2.0 they need to maintain in order to achieve academic mediocrity and athletic eligibility. And no, I’m not bitter about losing the last several meetings between these teams, who do you ask?
Final thought: people don’t need to be afraid of computers taking over the world and enslaving humanity for quite some time, because until they can build a computer that can run a proper grammar-check without getting a couple dozen items wrong, we have nothing to worry about. Once that paper-clip stops auto-changing “your A-Squad” to “you’re a-squad,” that’s when we should start nervously looking over our shoulders.
My day = twittering (like a boss), writing, showering (maybe), resume-ing, calling the folks to wish them a happy belated anniversary, and getting too geeked out about the season finale of Heroes. Oh and continually name-dropping Alec Baldwin as if he knows/cares who I am after seeing a bad movie with me.
Seacrest out,
Dustin
In other news, my continued quest to completely and utterly destroy my liver, leaving nothing more than a shriveled, mangled ball of vodka in its place (yes, you heard me, a ball of vodka. I’m not sure if it’s possible, but I’m gonna keep trying anyway) came to another sad defeat this weekend. I pulled out all the stops, too: had friends in from out of town, attended another friend’s going away party — all the usual tricks for manually forcing your liver to shut down — but nothing seemed to work, and I sit here before you on Monday morning decked out in full University of Michigan attire (PJ pants, hoodie) as a broken, defeated man. Oh well, there’s always next weekend. And since technically my “next weekend” starts today, I had better get my gameface on asap.
I had a friend point out to me the score of the Ohio State Suckeyes’ spring game the other day, and how massive the attendance was. I think she said the score was something like 23-3, Gray beating Scarlet. Now while I love any excuse to salvage football out of an otherwise baseball-laden season, I couldn’t really understand why she was so excited about the score. Because she told me about it as excitedly as if it were an actual game, but the thing is, IT’S NOT. To me, if one side really houses the other in the spring game, that just says to me that either your defense is way worse than your offense, or that your A-Squad is way better than you B-Squad — which is how it’s supposed to be, I’m pretty sure. So if you’re excited about the score of that game, it either means you don’t understand how football works (a definite option with this girl), or you’re legitimately surprised that your first team is significantly better than you second team. Either way, not a good sign. You know what the score of the Michigan Wolverines’ spring game was? Neither do I. Because it doesn’t matter. Don’t get me wrong, I would’ve loved to attend the game and see how our boys look for this season, but since I live 3,000 miles away and I’m not being recruited to play football for U of M, seeing that game in person isn’t really an option. The only score that should matter for OSU football players at this point in the season is that 2.0 they need to maintain in order to achieve academic mediocrity and athletic eligibility. And no, I’m not bitter about losing the last several meetings between these teams, who do you ask?
Final thought: people don’t need to be afraid of computers taking over the world and enslaving humanity for quite some time, because until they can build a computer that can run a proper grammar-check without getting a couple dozen items wrong, we have nothing to worry about. Once that paper-clip stops auto-changing “your A-Squad” to “you’re a-squad,” that’s when we should start nervously looking over our shoulders.
My day = twittering (like a boss), writing, showering (maybe), resume-ing, calling the folks to wish them a happy belated anniversary, and getting too geeked out about the season finale of Heroes. Oh and continually name-dropping Alec Baldwin as if he knows/cares who I am after seeing a bad movie with me.
Seacrest out,
Dustin
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Report: James, Williams & Literacy Lead Cavs to Big W Against Pistons
Cleveland, OH — The former NBA champion Detroit Pistons dropped their second straight playoff game to the hosting Cleveland Cavaliers, as LeBron James (Cleveland’s super-athlete small forward), Mo Williams (The Cavs all-star point guard) and Literacy (the ability to read, understand and communicate in the written English language) all combined to give the Cavaliers a huge 94-82 victory today at Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland. Ohio-native James gave Cleveland his usual support with 29 points and 13 rebounds, while Literacy made it possible for the Cavaliers to comprehend concepts ranging from who was on the starting lineup, to what hotel/roommate assignments were, to what time the game was scheduled to start, and everything in between. LeBron James — who is currently in his sixth season in the NBA — has had a long history of working with Literacy on and off the court, and many believe Literacy was directly responsible for James’ graduation from St. Vincent-St. Mary High School located in nearby Akron, Ohio. Literacy has become a staple of the Cavaliers’ media interactions as well, with both LeBron and Cleveland Head Coach, Mike Brown, making sure Literacy is prominently featured in their on-court interviews and postgame press conferences — frequently using teleprompters and statistics printouts to assist in making their points.
“Everyone knows this is a team that centers itself around Literacy” Coach Brown told reporters, “that was my philosophy even when I was an assistant coach, and it will continue to be as long as I’m in charge of this franchise.”
Point guard Mo Williams, who the Cavs acquired this year in an offseason trade, agreed with Brown, adding, “Literacy really allows us to read what’s going on, and make adjustments accordingly. [It] really opens up a lot of options for us compared to some of the alternatives.”
When asked his thoughts on how Literacy would affect them in Game 3 — scheduled back in Detroit — LeBron shared that, “Detroit’s never had an understanding or respect for what [Literacy] can do, and that’s a big part of what’s keeping them from reading the writing on the walls. I think there’s a good chance everything’s going to go right over their heads.”
As usual, any trace of the Cavs and Literacy were long gone by the time the Detroit Pistons’ press conference began.
Reporting for the Los Angeles Gazette Times Tribune Dispatch Herald Informer Chronicle Examiner Register Times Post Journal, I’m Dustin Heveron.
“The LA GTTDHICERTPJ, your number-one source for acronyms.”
"I'ma fowl'd! Refs be giving 'Sheed mah points or da Rip beet me on teem bus! Cheetoes is yummers! Boom!" -Rasheed Wallace, on the complex internal collapse the Pistons have suffered this season.
“Everyone knows this is a team that centers itself around Literacy” Coach Brown told reporters, “that was my philosophy even when I was an assistant coach, and it will continue to be as long as I’m in charge of this franchise.”
Point guard Mo Williams, who the Cavs acquired this year in an offseason trade, agreed with Brown, adding, “Literacy really allows us to read what’s going on, and make adjustments accordingly. [It] really opens up a lot of options for us compared to some of the alternatives.”
When asked his thoughts on how Literacy would affect them in Game 3 — scheduled back in Detroit — LeBron shared that, “Detroit’s never had an understanding or respect for what [Literacy] can do, and that’s a big part of what’s keeping them from reading the writing on the walls. I think there’s a good chance everything’s going to go right over their heads.”
As usual, any trace of the Cavs and Literacy were long gone by the time the Detroit Pistons’ press conference began.
Reporting for the Los Angeles Gazette Times Tribune Dispatch Herald Informer Chronicle Examiner Register Times Post Journal, I’m Dustin Heveron.
“The LA GTTDHICERTPJ, your number-one source for acronyms.”
"I'ma fowl'd! Refs be giving 'Sheed mah points or da Rip beet me on teem bus! Cheetoes is yummers! Boom!" -Rasheed Wallace, on the complex internal collapse the Pistons have suffered this season.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Can You Smell BMS? (Dustin's Summer Movie Preview '09)
I love…
Love
LOVE.
…blockbuster movie season (BMS…known as summer to those of you who don’t live in a place where it’s summer 24/7). Although I enjoy almost all genres of cinema, I particularly like the stereotypical, big budget summer blockbuster movies with their shiny FX, barely-there plotlines and their “hottie du jour” starlets. Maybe that statement gives you a glimpse into what sort of shallow, easily-entertained person I am. Or maybe that’s just my way of reverse psychologying you into thinking I’m actually deep by saying I’m shallow. Boom, reverse psychology’d (like a boss).
I was thinking about firing up my weekly review of some of the mega-hits I’m excited for this BMS, but I may be too poor to see all of them in the theater and I think they frown on it when you spend your unemployment money at the Arclight Cinemas. Boom, recession’d (like a boss). That said, here’s a list of the movies that I will definitely be Netflixing (aka Blockbuster Online-ing…but that’s too many syllables) six months after their theatrical release and why I’m excited about them (or not, if I think they’ll be bad).
— MAY —
Battle for Terra: Weak CGI + made by a Canadian production company = flop.
Ghosts of Girlfriends Past: Matthew McConaughey makes this exact movie every 8-12 months with a slightly different premise and a slightly different female lead. But the exact same level of yawn.
X-Men Origins, Wolverine: I’ll see it, you’ll see it (and apparently some of you interweb pirates already HAVE seen it), it won’t be that great, but hopefully it won’t be as bad as X-2 and X-3 were (minus Kelsey Grammar as Beast, which was still my fave part of that entire trilogy).
Star Trek: Because the Star Wars fans are too rabid to let George Lucas do a true Star Wars reboot, AND because Star Trek fans all secretly know how truly awful the original Star Trek shows and movies were, this movie has been made. I’m only going to see some hot aliens and Sylar from Heroes (season finale next week! And just as it’s finally starting to get good again, too).
Next Day Air: I heard the working title for this movie was “Madea’s Pothead, Slacker Nephew Who Makes Poor Decisions for 90 Minutes at the Risk of His Dead-End Job.”
Angels & Demons: Great, now I have to see The DaVinci Code (but might be worth it to have an excuse to read the books).
Terminator Salvation: Say what you will about Christian Bale being an asshole (you wouldn’t be wrong), the Terminator series being overplayed (you wouldn’t be wrong), and Linda Hamilton being hot (you wouldn’t be right); but I am PUMPED for this movie and all the preliminary signs point to this movie actually being good (maybe even the second-best Terminator movie behind T2).
Night at the Museum 2, Battle of the Smithsonian: And so Ben Stiller drifts slowly into the low stakes world of family-friendly, safe comedies just like Cuba and Eddie and other before him. I’m down with anything that gives Ricky Gervais more work stateside, though.
Dance Flick: Thankfully not made by the same D-bags who are endlessly peddling the Scary Movie franchise of feces, the Wayans Bros. might have enough latent comic ability to make this fly. Or it could be White Chicks 2: Sports Brahs.
Up: Disney, Pixar, adorable premise. You know the drill, let’s just cut Mickey his check for $300 million right now and go home.
— JUNE —
Land of the Lost: Will Ferrell is that strange combo of someone who is commercially hilarious AND actually hilarious (unlike Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, Tyler Perry, and most everyone else who’s making comedies these days), plus you mix in Danny McBride in the role he was meant to play (i.e. any sort of sidekick comic relief character) and a remake franchise that’s actually worth remaking, and baby, you’ve got yourself a stew going.
The Hangover: Watch the trailer, become a believer. Zach Galifinakis and Co. are all hilarious, and this one has the cult classic sharpied all over it. Hopefully it’ll make enough money for people to take a chance on this sort of movie again in the future (about the same time I’m ready for my leading feature debut).
My Life in Ruins: My Big Fat Greek Wedding “star” capitalizes on the huge trend of making movies about average-looking, middle-aged women and their love of Greek heritage. Oh, wait.
Imagine That: This is the kind of movie Ben Stiller will be making in a few years if he stays on the path he’s currently on. Now ask people if they like this Eddie Murphy or the old school Eddie Murphy better. You’ve been warned, Ben.
Year One: Superbad with an amped up budget, plot, and a bigger/better star than Jonah Hill? I can smell the quotability from here.
Transformers, Revenge of the Fallen: The first movie about my favorite robots in disguise was one of the only truly successful 80’s reboots in my book, and the sequel should be as large as Shia’s Lebeouf’s head has gotten since last summer. And to quote myself from last year’s movie preview, Spielberg as producer should keep Michael Bay’s tendency to suck at *ahem* bay.
— JULY —
Brüno: Picture an even wilder, even more shocking version of Borat. I’m as afraid as I am ready to laugh. I just hope America gets the joke at some point.
I Love You, Beth Cooper: Hayden Panettiere? Sold. Boom, pedophile’d (like a boss).
Harry Potter and the…Blah blah blah, aren’t these guys like, out of shaman school yet? Yeah, I’ll keep seeing these movies…if only so I can avoid reading the books to see how the series ends.
G-Force: I was actually excited for this movie for .2 seconds when I thought it was a remake of a Japanese cartoon show I liked as a child. But I lost my erection as soon as I found out the “G” in G-Force stands for gerbil. Yeah, gerbil force.
Funny People: I’ve never really thought Adam Sandler was that funny, and he’s doing his best to prove me right beyond the shadow of a doubt in his latter years.
— AUGUST —
G.I. Joe, The Rise of Cobra: I have a basement full of decapitated action figures and half assembled heli-tanks (half helicopter, half tank. You heard me) that says I have to see this movie. And in no way is that depressing.
Julie & Julia: A chick flick, best-selling novel adaptation and supposed Oscar-contender slated for a summer release? That means one of two things: 1) either this movie blows beyond fixability or 2) Meryl Streep lost a bet. Either way, avoid at all costs.
Inglorious Basterds: Sure they spelled it wrong, but Brad Pitt plus an excuse to swear in public for most of August and September is a good enough reason for me to support a film.
The Post Grad Survival Guide: Alexis Bledel is hot, but I’m secretly afraid of going into this movie and having them show Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 instead. And I’m not sure anyone would be able to tell the difference.
…And there you have it. Those are the 90-120 minute godsends that are going to help me pass the time once the basketball and hockey seasons are over and I’m going through withdrawal until football comes back into my life. Let’s hope they get the job done.
Eating pizza (like a boss), Seacrest out.
-Dustin
Love
LOVE.
…blockbuster movie season (BMS…known as summer to those of you who don’t live in a place where it’s summer 24/7). Although I enjoy almost all genres of cinema, I particularly like the stereotypical, big budget summer blockbuster movies with their shiny FX, barely-there plotlines and their “hottie du jour” starlets. Maybe that statement gives you a glimpse into what sort of shallow, easily-entertained person I am. Or maybe that’s just my way of reverse psychologying you into thinking I’m actually deep by saying I’m shallow. Boom, reverse psychology’d (like a boss).
I was thinking about firing up my weekly review of some of the mega-hits I’m excited for this BMS, but I may be too poor to see all of them in the theater and I think they frown on it when you spend your unemployment money at the Arclight Cinemas. Boom, recession’d (like a boss). That said, here’s a list of the movies that I will definitely be Netflixing (aka Blockbuster Online-ing…but that’s too many syllables) six months after their theatrical release and why I’m excited about them (or not, if I think they’ll be bad).
— MAY —
Battle for Terra: Weak CGI + made by a Canadian production company = flop.
Ghosts of Girlfriends Past: Matthew McConaughey makes this exact movie every 8-12 months with a slightly different premise and a slightly different female lead. But the exact same level of yawn.
X-Men Origins, Wolverine: I’ll see it, you’ll see it (and apparently some of you interweb pirates already HAVE seen it), it won’t be that great, but hopefully it won’t be as bad as X-2 and X-3 were (minus Kelsey Grammar as Beast, which was still my fave part of that entire trilogy).
Star Trek: Because the Star Wars fans are too rabid to let George Lucas do a true Star Wars reboot, AND because Star Trek fans all secretly know how truly awful the original Star Trek shows and movies were, this movie has been made. I’m only going to see some hot aliens and Sylar from Heroes (season finale next week! And just as it’s finally starting to get good again, too).
Next Day Air: I heard the working title for this movie was “Madea’s Pothead, Slacker Nephew Who Makes Poor Decisions for 90 Minutes at the Risk of His Dead-End Job.”
Angels & Demons: Great, now I have to see The DaVinci Code (but might be worth it to have an excuse to read the books).
Terminator Salvation: Say what you will about Christian Bale being an asshole (you wouldn’t be wrong), the Terminator series being overplayed (you wouldn’t be wrong), and Linda Hamilton being hot (you wouldn’t be right); but I am PUMPED for this movie and all the preliminary signs point to this movie actually being good (maybe even the second-best Terminator movie behind T2).
Night at the Museum 2, Battle of the Smithsonian: And so Ben Stiller drifts slowly into the low stakes world of family-friendly, safe comedies just like Cuba and Eddie and other before him. I’m down with anything that gives Ricky Gervais more work stateside, though.
Dance Flick: Thankfully not made by the same D-bags who are endlessly peddling the Scary Movie franchise of feces, the Wayans Bros. might have enough latent comic ability to make this fly. Or it could be White Chicks 2: Sports Brahs.
Up: Disney, Pixar, adorable premise. You know the drill, let’s just cut Mickey his check for $300 million right now and go home.
— JUNE —
Land of the Lost: Will Ferrell is that strange combo of someone who is commercially hilarious AND actually hilarious (unlike Seth Rogen, Jonah Hill, Tyler Perry, and most everyone else who’s making comedies these days), plus you mix in Danny McBride in the role he was meant to play (i.e. any sort of sidekick comic relief character) and a remake franchise that’s actually worth remaking, and baby, you’ve got yourself a stew going.
The Hangover: Watch the trailer, become a believer. Zach Galifinakis and Co. are all hilarious, and this one has the cult classic sharpied all over it. Hopefully it’ll make enough money for people to take a chance on this sort of movie again in the future (about the same time I’m ready for my leading feature debut).
My Life in Ruins: My Big Fat Greek Wedding “star” capitalizes on the huge trend of making movies about average-looking, middle-aged women and their love of Greek heritage. Oh, wait.
Imagine That: This is the kind of movie Ben Stiller will be making in a few years if he stays on the path he’s currently on. Now ask people if they like this Eddie Murphy or the old school Eddie Murphy better. You’ve been warned, Ben.
Year One: Superbad with an amped up budget, plot, and a bigger/better star than Jonah Hill? I can smell the quotability from here.
Transformers, Revenge of the Fallen: The first movie about my favorite robots in disguise was one of the only truly successful 80’s reboots in my book, and the sequel should be as large as Shia’s Lebeouf’s head has gotten since last summer. And to quote myself from last year’s movie preview, Spielberg as producer should keep Michael Bay’s tendency to suck at *ahem* bay.
— JULY —
Brüno: Picture an even wilder, even more shocking version of Borat. I’m as afraid as I am ready to laugh. I just hope America gets the joke at some point.
I Love You, Beth Cooper: Hayden Panettiere? Sold. Boom, pedophile’d (like a boss).
Harry Potter and the…Blah blah blah, aren’t these guys like, out of shaman school yet? Yeah, I’ll keep seeing these movies…if only so I can avoid reading the books to see how the series ends.
G-Force: I was actually excited for this movie for .2 seconds when I thought it was a remake of a Japanese cartoon show I liked as a child. But I lost my erection as soon as I found out the “G” in G-Force stands for gerbil. Yeah, gerbil force.
Funny People: I’ve never really thought Adam Sandler was that funny, and he’s doing his best to prove me right beyond the shadow of a doubt in his latter years.
— AUGUST —
G.I. Joe, The Rise of Cobra: I have a basement full of decapitated action figures and half assembled heli-tanks (half helicopter, half tank. You heard me) that says I have to see this movie. And in no way is that depressing.
Julie & Julia: A chick flick, best-selling novel adaptation and supposed Oscar-contender slated for a summer release? That means one of two things: 1) either this movie blows beyond fixability or 2) Meryl Streep lost a bet. Either way, avoid at all costs.
Inglorious Basterds: Sure they spelled it wrong, but Brad Pitt plus an excuse to swear in public for most of August and September is a good enough reason for me to support a film.
The Post Grad Survival Guide: Alexis Bledel is hot, but I’m secretly afraid of going into this movie and having them show Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 instead. And I’m not sure anyone would be able to tell the difference.
…And there you have it. Those are the 90-120 minute godsends that are going to help me pass the time once the basketball and hockey seasons are over and I’m going through withdrawal until football comes back into my life. Let’s hope they get the job done.
Eating pizza (like a boss), Seacrest out.
-Dustin
Sunday, April 19, 2009
I Need a Desk (and by “Desk” I Mean Job)
I think alcohol sapped all my hilarity last night. Eh well, might as well get my write on anyways — being bad at stuff has never stopped me from doing anything before (isn’t that right, basketball, soccer, and relationships?).
Jaden Smith ruined The Day the Earth Stood Still. Not intentionally in the same way as Keanu’s underacting or the weak ending, but just ruined nonetheless. Jaden’s character (Jacob — what is it with poorly-written Jacobs in films these days? I’m looking at you, Twilight screenwriter) is just really, really poorly written. For those of you who haven’t seen the movie, here’s a spoiler-free synopsis from someone who just watched the dvd this afternoon as a hangover cure (not a particularly effective one, in case you wondered): Jacob is almost 100% unnecessary as a character, he is an absolute brat — beyond what’s believable even by America’s standards of brattiness — he is a jerk to his single-parent stepmom, and he does not serve a purpose to the main plot aside from showing that American children are intolerant D-bags. His acting isn’t great, but he’s also like 10 years old AND working alongside Keanu Reeves (who also has the acting ability of a 10-year-old), so I’m willing to let it slide. Basically, the movie would’ve been significantly improved if that character had just been reduced or written out entirely. That said, I actually enjoyed the movie a fair amount and thought it was a decent remake.
As an aside, I’d like to point out that I honestly don’t think Keanu Reeves is that bad of an actor — I don’t think he’s particularly great, either, I just think that (like most actors) he serves a specific purpose and plays that certain kind of part well. He did a good job in this movie, and he knows kung fu.
On from a criticism to just the opposite. I saw Paul McCartney live for the second time in my life at the Coachella Music Festival this weekend. The level of talent that man possesses is unreal. At 60-something (I think around 65?), that man jumped around onstage, switched between a half-dozen instruments and played an almost three-hour show — all without missing a note. Like seriously, he didn’t even go flat once during the whole show. He shared some heart-warming stories about former bandmate John, former wife Linda…and didn’t share stories about former wife and current gold-digger, Heather Mills (who is an all-around crazy B and unsavory person). I know his shows are pricey, but seriously anyone who has even the slightest respect for and enjoyment of music owes it to themselves to see Paul live. His backing band is über talented (especially the righteous drummer who sings the majority of the harmonies and lays down sweet beats with only one rack tom and one floor tom — nobody needs more than two rack toms and one floor tom, no offense to the greatness of Neil Pert, but come on). Even the Beatles-DJ who opens the show for him and gets the crowd pumped up is awesome. This is the second time I’ve seen him put on an epic concert, and both shows were ridiculously phenomenal, so it wasn’t just like I got lucky with a good performance. The fact of the matter is that even though he still looks like he’s in great shape, and you couldn’t see any evidence of it in his show, he is still pushing 70-years old and he simply won’t be performing much longer. You MUST see him. You won’t regret it, and bootlegs aren’t the same. Anyone who doesn’t want to see Paul McCartney is a communist who should be shot execution-style on a stack of country-music albums.
I don’t care for Boston that much, but I do like Bill Simmons’ writing, and his observations are usually pretty spot-on and entertaining (remind you of anyone you know? …It’s me. You’re supposed to be reminded of me. Jerk).
So I’m going to be an extra in the movie Alvin & the Chipmunks 2: The Squeakquel this week. I’m equal parts excited and frightened. I’m excited because “acting” is going to pay for my food this week, but scared of what being associated with the A&TC franchise is going to do to my self-esteem. I’m sure it’s a violation of my contract, but I am planning on keeping my camera phone hot so I can twitter my humiliation globally so all of you can share in my official defeat as an actor (LA 1, Dustin 0).
Ok, tomorrow begins the no-holds-barred showdown between me and the recession (so far Recession 1, Dustin 0), and I’m predicting a big W for team Dustin — speaking of wins, how awesome is it that the Cavs AND Jackets are both in the playoffs against Detroit-based sports teams (although it looks like the Cleveland Cavaliers are more likely to win the Stanley Cup than the Columbus Blue Jackets with the way the CBJ played the first two games)?
For now though, I need to decide if 11:41pm is too late to have lunch, and see if I can get back the hours that the Mythbusters marathon has stolen from me today (Mythbusters 1, Dustin 0).
Much love to the Dustin Nation (the Dustination?), we’ll talk again soon.
Dustin
60+ years old, 60+ feet high — but Paul doesn't need screens to be larger than life. Rock on.
Jaden Smith ruined The Day the Earth Stood Still. Not intentionally in the same way as Keanu’s underacting or the weak ending, but just ruined nonetheless. Jaden’s character (Jacob — what is it with poorly-written Jacobs in films these days? I’m looking at you, Twilight screenwriter) is just really, really poorly written. For those of you who haven’t seen the movie, here’s a spoiler-free synopsis from someone who just watched the dvd this afternoon as a hangover cure (not a particularly effective one, in case you wondered): Jacob is almost 100% unnecessary as a character, he is an absolute brat — beyond what’s believable even by America’s standards of brattiness — he is a jerk to his single-parent stepmom, and he does not serve a purpose to the main plot aside from showing that American children are intolerant D-bags. His acting isn’t great, but he’s also like 10 years old AND working alongside Keanu Reeves (who also has the acting ability of a 10-year-old), so I’m willing to let it slide. Basically, the movie would’ve been significantly improved if that character had just been reduced or written out entirely. That said, I actually enjoyed the movie a fair amount and thought it was a decent remake.
As an aside, I’d like to point out that I honestly don’t think Keanu Reeves is that bad of an actor — I don’t think he’s particularly great, either, I just think that (like most actors) he serves a specific purpose and plays that certain kind of part well. He did a good job in this movie, and he knows kung fu.
On from a criticism to just the opposite. I saw Paul McCartney live for the second time in my life at the Coachella Music Festival this weekend. The level of talent that man possesses is unreal. At 60-something (I think around 65?), that man jumped around onstage, switched between a half-dozen instruments and played an almost three-hour show — all without missing a note. Like seriously, he didn’t even go flat once during the whole show. He shared some heart-warming stories about former bandmate John, former wife Linda…and didn’t share stories about former wife and current gold-digger, Heather Mills (who is an all-around crazy B and unsavory person). I know his shows are pricey, but seriously anyone who has even the slightest respect for and enjoyment of music owes it to themselves to see Paul live. His backing band is über talented (especially the righteous drummer who sings the majority of the harmonies and lays down sweet beats with only one rack tom and one floor tom — nobody needs more than two rack toms and one floor tom, no offense to the greatness of Neil Pert, but come on). Even the Beatles-DJ who opens the show for him and gets the crowd pumped up is awesome. This is the second time I’ve seen him put on an epic concert, and both shows were ridiculously phenomenal, so it wasn’t just like I got lucky with a good performance. The fact of the matter is that even though he still looks like he’s in great shape, and you couldn’t see any evidence of it in his show, he is still pushing 70-years old and he simply won’t be performing much longer. You MUST see him. You won’t regret it, and bootlegs aren’t the same. Anyone who doesn’t want to see Paul McCartney is a communist who should be shot execution-style on a stack of country-music albums.
I don’t care for Boston that much, but I do like Bill Simmons’ writing, and his observations are usually pretty spot-on and entertaining (remind you of anyone you know? …It’s me. You’re supposed to be reminded of me. Jerk).
So I’m going to be an extra in the movie Alvin & the Chipmunks 2: The Squeakquel this week. I’m equal parts excited and frightened. I’m excited because “acting” is going to pay for my food this week, but scared of what being associated with the A&TC franchise is going to do to my self-esteem. I’m sure it’s a violation of my contract, but I am planning on keeping my camera phone hot so I can twitter my humiliation globally so all of you can share in my official defeat as an actor (LA 1, Dustin 0).
Ok, tomorrow begins the no-holds-barred showdown between me and the recession (so far Recession 1, Dustin 0), and I’m predicting a big W for team Dustin — speaking of wins, how awesome is it that the Cavs AND Jackets are both in the playoffs against Detroit-based sports teams (although it looks like the Cleveland Cavaliers are more likely to win the Stanley Cup than the Columbus Blue Jackets with the way the CBJ played the first two games)?
For now though, I need to decide if 11:41pm is too late to have lunch, and see if I can get back the hours that the Mythbusters marathon has stolen from me today (Mythbusters 1, Dustin 0).
Much love to the Dustin Nation (the Dustination?), we’ll talk again soon.
Dustin
60+ years old, 60+ feet high — but Paul doesn't need screens to be larger than life. Rock on.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Being Really, Really Productive, You Guys
I have invented a word.
The bird isn’t the word that I’ve invented.
Oh, before I venture any further, let me quickly plug one of my fave modern-day bands, House of Heroes, by letting you know you can download a FREE song of theirs here and buy their ultra-cheap ($2.49, American! Cheaper than a ShamWow!), recently released EP here. Ok, done plugging, back to the nonsense.
Inventing a word isn’t an entirely new thing for me, since I invent words pretty regularly, the only difference is that this word isn’t a derivative of an obscenity, or slang, or innuendo for anything. So that makes it special AND appropriate for posting on the internet (because we all know what a clean and family-friendly environment the internet is).
The word came to me as I realized my life was missing a couple of vitally important functions. One, new pictures of me aren’t taken and posted on facebook as frequently as they used to be. This is a shame because I’m really, really good looking, you guys. I’m also really, really hilarious, and I oftenruin improve pictures by being really, really hilarious in them.
Exhibit A:
My first thought was that I simply needed to take more pictures in general and to keep my camera on my person more often. However, I quickly realized that while this might help things a bit, it’s not a perfect solution because I wanted more pictures OF me, not more pictures taken BY me (I’m very self-centered and egotistical, to briefly recap the last 25 years of my life).
Exhibit B:
That means I needed someone else to be taking pictures of me. Normally this wouldn’t be a big deal, because in this situation you usually just hand your camera to theleast attractive most talented of your friends and have them take it for you, but if you want a lot of pictures of yourself, this strategy doesn’t fully work either because your friend taking the picture is also usually really unpopular busy and has to leave the party early to go home and whack it study. This is especially brutal because nothing’s worse than missing classic late-night pictures like these.
Exhibit C:
And then it dawned on me. To fully realize my dream of having a lot of pictures taken of myself, without totally pissing off my circle ofsuckers friends, I’d need someone from outside that circle to take the photos. The solution came to me that I could pay some kind of personal assistant to take pictures of me, and they’d have to like it because I was paying them. And they couldn’t leave because I was paying them. Just like a relationship with a girl. I thought about hiring a normal photographer, but that wouldn’t be ideal because photographers are usually too arsty and concerned with what makes a “good picture” vs. what I want, which is just someone to take a bunch of pictures of me all the time.
So the word I came up with is Narcissistant. It’s an employee who works just for me, whose only job is to go around and take photos of me and post them on various websites, college cafeteria corkboards, high school newspapers, singles chatrooms, and anywhere else where the environment would be improved by displaying a photo like this one.
Exhibit D:
I don’t know how much a Narcissistant makes annually, although I’m almost certain that the payment would involve money or a close facsimile. Full benefits (wink) and a nice retirement package are all included, plus there are a ton of perks! Like for instance, I would acknowledge you in public places on a semi-regular basis, you would probably get to be friends with me on facebook, and you might even get to drive me home after I’ve had too much to drink! And that’s just the beginning, I’m sure there a ton more that I haven’t even thought of yet!
If you want to apply for this incredibly awesome, exclusive and perky job, then I probably won’t stop you! Just send me your resume, and try to be more attractive than a 7.5 on the traditional 10-point scale of hotness. Dustin Heveron Inc. is an Equal Opportunity Employer (no dudes, no old chicks, no weirdos, and no religions that I think are made up or lame — example: sikhs or scientologists). Apply today!
Seacrest out,
Dustin
The bird isn’t the word that I’ve invented.
Oh, before I venture any further, let me quickly plug one of my fave modern-day bands, House of Heroes, by letting you know you can download a FREE song of theirs here and buy their ultra-cheap ($2.49, American! Cheaper than a ShamWow!), recently released EP here. Ok, done plugging, back to the nonsense.
Inventing a word isn’t an entirely new thing for me, since I invent words pretty regularly, the only difference is that this word isn’t a derivative of an obscenity, or slang, or innuendo for anything. So that makes it special AND appropriate for posting on the internet (because we all know what a clean and family-friendly environment the internet is).
The word came to me as I realized my life was missing a couple of vitally important functions. One, new pictures of me aren’t taken and posted on facebook as frequently as they used to be. This is a shame because I’m really, really good looking, you guys. I’m also really, really hilarious, and I often
Exhibit A:
My first thought was that I simply needed to take more pictures in general and to keep my camera on my person more often. However, I quickly realized that while this might help things a bit, it’s not a perfect solution because I wanted more pictures OF me, not more pictures taken BY me (I’m very self-centered and egotistical, to briefly recap the last 25 years of my life).
Exhibit B:
That means I needed someone else to be taking pictures of me. Normally this wouldn’t be a big deal, because in this situation you usually just hand your camera to the
Exhibit C:
And then it dawned on me. To fully realize my dream of having a lot of pictures taken of myself, without totally pissing off my circle of
So the word I came up with is Narcissistant. It’s an employee who works just for me, whose only job is to go around and take photos of me and post them on various websites, college cafeteria corkboards, high school newspapers, singles chatrooms, and anywhere else where the environment would be improved by displaying a photo like this one.
Exhibit D:
I don’t know how much a Narcissistant makes annually, although I’m almost certain that the payment would involve money or a close facsimile. Full benefits (wink) and a nice retirement package are all included, plus there are a ton of perks! Like for instance, I would acknowledge you in public places on a semi-regular basis, you would probably get to be friends with me on facebook, and you might even get to drive me home after I’ve had too much to drink! And that’s just the beginning, I’m sure there a ton more that I haven’t even thought of yet!
If you want to apply for this incredibly awesome, exclusive and perky job, then I probably won’t stop you! Just send me your resume, and try to be more attractive than a 7.5 on the traditional 10-point scale of hotness. Dustin Heveron Inc. is an Equal Opportunity Employer (no dudes, no old chicks, no weirdos, and no religions that I think are made up or lame — example: sikhs or scientologists). Apply today!
Seacrest out,
Dustin
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Writing Blogs (Like a Boss)
So that happened.
Had a lovely visit back to the motherland of Ohio, managed to do some relaxing and had plenty of fun (and food). I saw a ton of people, but as usual, didn’t have time to see everyone that I wanted to (next time, gang). And the trip back to LA was one of the best flights I’ve had in a long while, so that’s nice.
In other news, facebook has been kind of jacked up all morning, so that does not rock.
In other, other news, I had some good ideas for good things and new projects this weekend.
In other, other, other news, I shoot tequila (like a boss).
There are some days where I think it’s a damn shame that no matter how much time I spend at the gym trying to accidentally rub up on hot chicks, that I’ll never be big or strong enough to be a legit superhero. It’s like my ideal profession, and all I’m lacking are resources, superpowers, know-how, and the ability to fight/protect/save anyone. So close. If any of you are professional (but slightly crazy) geneticists currently conducting radical, ethically gray (but slightly crazy) experiments, please let me know — as I’m very interested in being bitten by radioactive animals, or fusing unstable DNA into my system, or anything else that might give me an excuse to run around in spandex in my free time.
I am not jealous of people who edit video or film for a living. Don’t get me wrong, it takes a great deal of skill to do it well, and the process is vitally important to making movies, television, etc. look their best, but it’s got to be one of the most tedious, thankless jobs out there. So props to anyone who does that for a living. Or for fun. Or for the opposite of fun. Although if you purposely do things that are the opposite of fun, you probably have bigger problems than being an editor.
Well in case you couldn’t already tell, I’m pretty much out of anything interested to say about my life (like a boss), so I’ma peace out to the gym and see if I can’t make some productive things happen today.
Deuces,
Dustin
P.S. Veronica totally peed herself at a nice restaurant in Venice Beach the other day (well maybe not, but tell me this picture doesn't mislead you into thinking just that).
Had a lovely visit back to the motherland of Ohio, managed to do some relaxing and had plenty of fun (and food). I saw a ton of people, but as usual, didn’t have time to see everyone that I wanted to (next time, gang). And the trip back to LA was one of the best flights I’ve had in a long while, so that’s nice.
In other news, facebook has been kind of jacked up all morning, so that does not rock.
In other, other news, I had some good ideas for good things and new projects this weekend.
In other, other, other news, I shoot tequila (like a boss).
There are some days where I think it’s a damn shame that no matter how much time I spend at the gym trying to accidentally rub up on hot chicks, that I’ll never be big or strong enough to be a legit superhero. It’s like my ideal profession, and all I’m lacking are resources, superpowers, know-how, and the ability to fight/protect/save anyone. So close. If any of you are professional (but slightly crazy) geneticists currently conducting radical, ethically gray (but slightly crazy) experiments, please let me know — as I’m very interested in being bitten by radioactive animals, or fusing unstable DNA into my system, or anything else that might give me an excuse to run around in spandex in my free time.
I am not jealous of people who edit video or film for a living. Don’t get me wrong, it takes a great deal of skill to do it well, and the process is vitally important to making movies, television, etc. look their best, but it’s got to be one of the most tedious, thankless jobs out there. So props to anyone who does that for a living. Or for fun. Or for the opposite of fun. Although if you purposely do things that are the opposite of fun, you probably have bigger problems than being an editor.
Well in case you couldn’t already tell, I’m pretty much out of anything interested to say about my life (like a boss), so I’ma peace out to the gym and see if I can’t make some productive things happen today.
Deuces,
Dustin
P.S. Veronica totally peed herself at a nice restaurant in Venice Beach the other day (well maybe not, but tell me this picture doesn't mislead you into thinking just that).
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Supermarket Sweep Style
So for those of you familiar with the old game show, Supermarket Sweep, the concept works like this: contestants were given a cart and had a set amount of time to shove as much free swag into it as they could before the clock ran down. I am doing the same thing with this blog. It is 11:55pm right now, and I have given myself EXACTLY five minutes to throw as much as I can into this post without really thinking or editing, very free form style and (probably) very discombobulatedly (not a word, I know, but that’s part of the fun of the internet, the rules of the real don’t apply here). Line breaks will signify new topics of thought. Try and keep up with the train.
On my mark.
Get set.
Wait, grab a quick chug of milk for thirst quenching and brain fueling.
Wait again, need to have something non-baseball in the background because baseball blows. SportsCenter seems to think anyone cares about the WBC. I don’t even care enough about the WBC to de-abbreviate WBC.
South Park. The Lord of the Rings spoofisode. Perfect.
GO!
Ok so the first thing that pooped into my head (that’s supposed to say popped, but no time for undoing typos, and it actually works just as well since ideas can kind of poop into your head, in a way. Especially the s***ty ones), is that today has been a great month for music (I know one day can’t be a month, that’s the joke and it was intentional). House of Heroes (search for them on iTunes or myspace, they rule) rereleased a new album. It’s amazing. Then MxPx decided to release another cover album as a faux-follow-up to their first covers album 13 years ago. It also rocks. There’s other music I’m forgetting, but if you wanna know, just google it, you lazy FOB (I like calling people Fall Out Boys instead of Sons of B****es. It’s still just as disrespectful though). I also recently got into a couple bands called Hit the Lights and School Boy Humor. So far I really like Hit the Lights, and I only kind of like School Boy Humor.
Ok, I’ve drawn my first blank. Uncool. I don’t smoke weed, but I think I’m ok with it being legalized so everyone will SHUT THE F*** UP ABOUT IT! No one cares that you got a sweet medical card so you can smoke. I also think I just kind of copied a bit of Daniel Tosh’s, but it’s ok because I’m giving him credit for it (google him, he’s funny and the actual bit of his is probably much longer than one sentence).
Chicks are hot, I like to makeout with them.
Sports are awesome, LBJ is gonna win MVP or else I’m going toassassinate Kobe Bryant be sad. DWade is having a hell of a season, too, but LBJ has done more with less. Thus, LBJ = MVP.
I think I’m almost out of time and it’s really freaking me out. I get to do some awesome acting stuff soon.
Oh, I’m also writing a sitcom. Pilot. No, I will not show it to any of you.
I think I just saw the lead dude from Twilight in a trailer for some horror movie about Connecticut. I wonder if the thing everyone is afraid of is his terrible, terrible acting and how he’s a hardcore pedophile. I read all the Twilight books as a read-along with my little sister, ask me about them some time. I’m a little pissed they didn’t cast the girl playing Bella for the movies as someone hotter. I know the point is that she’s supposed to be average and it’s love that makes them love each other, not looks, but still, this is Hollywood and I regularlyget drunk fall in love and makeout with hotter girls than that and I’m just an average lanky dude with pretty eyes, so I’m sure a super-powered vampire/model/telepath who’s cruising for hardcore jailbait in Oregon could find someone hotter.
Also, I’m starting a pop-punk band whose name I’m not releasing yet. I’m thinking of having my friend Doug be in the band with me, and hopefully I can get my roommate J to learn to love pop-punk music enough to play in our band (he likes country, but somehow we’re still friends). If my younger brother had ever learned to play an instrument or sing well, he could’ve been in it as well.
I’m coming home to visit Ohio in exactly one week from when this timer ticks down (aka midnight. Aka a week from midnight. Aka Tuesday. Next Tuesday).
Ok, there’s the timer, what did I score? Did I win? Probably. Because I’m awesome.
Also, check out my buddy Colin’s blog if you ever want to meet someone who’s superior to you at almost everything artistic (no time to link it, just google him or look it up in my previous posts).
Cheers,
Dustin
On my mark.
Get set.
Wait, grab a quick chug of milk for thirst quenching and brain fueling.
Wait again, need to have something non-baseball in the background because baseball blows. SportsCenter seems to think anyone cares about the WBC. I don’t even care enough about the WBC to de-abbreviate WBC.
South Park. The Lord of the Rings spoofisode. Perfect.
GO!
Ok so the first thing that pooped into my head (that’s supposed to say popped, but no time for undoing typos, and it actually works just as well since ideas can kind of poop into your head, in a way. Especially the s***ty ones), is that today has been a great month for music (I know one day can’t be a month, that’s the joke and it was intentional). House of Heroes (search for them on iTunes or myspace, they rule) rereleased a new album. It’s amazing. Then MxPx decided to release another cover album as a faux-follow-up to their first covers album 13 years ago. It also rocks. There’s other music I’m forgetting, but if you wanna know, just google it, you lazy FOB (I like calling people Fall Out Boys instead of Sons of B****es. It’s still just as disrespectful though). I also recently got into a couple bands called Hit the Lights and School Boy Humor. So far I really like Hit the Lights, and I only kind of like School Boy Humor.
Ok, I’ve drawn my first blank. Uncool. I don’t smoke weed, but I think I’m ok with it being legalized so everyone will SHUT THE F*** UP ABOUT IT! No one cares that you got a sweet medical card so you can smoke. I also think I just kind of copied a bit of Daniel Tosh’s, but it’s ok because I’m giving him credit for it (google him, he’s funny and the actual bit of his is probably much longer than one sentence).
Chicks are hot, I like to makeout with them.
Sports are awesome, LBJ is gonna win MVP or else I’m going to
I think I’m almost out of time and it’s really freaking me out. I get to do some awesome acting stuff soon.
Oh, I’m also writing a sitcom. Pilot. No, I will not show it to any of you.
I think I just saw the lead dude from Twilight in a trailer for some horror movie about Connecticut. I wonder if the thing everyone is afraid of is his terrible, terrible acting and how he’s a hardcore pedophile. I read all the Twilight books as a read-along with my little sister, ask me about them some time. I’m a little pissed they didn’t cast the girl playing Bella for the movies as someone hotter. I know the point is that she’s supposed to be average and it’s love that makes them love each other, not looks, but still, this is Hollywood and I regularly
Also, I’m starting a pop-punk band whose name I’m not releasing yet. I’m thinking of having my friend Doug be in the band with me, and hopefully I can get my roommate J to learn to love pop-punk music enough to play in our band (he likes country, but somehow we’re still friends). If my younger brother had ever learned to play an instrument or sing well, he could’ve been in it as well.
I’m coming home to visit Ohio in exactly one week from when this timer ticks down (aka midnight. Aka a week from midnight. Aka Tuesday. Next Tuesday).
Ok, there’s the timer, what did I score? Did I win? Probably. Because I’m awesome.
Also, check out my buddy Colin’s blog if you ever want to meet someone who’s superior to you at almost everything artistic (no time to link it, just google him or look it up in my previous posts).
Cheers,
Dustin
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Twitter?! I Don’t Even KNOW Her!
Somehow the weeks pass and I feel as if I’ve accomplished nothing, yet somehow was too busy to call friends, visit with locals, write on this thing, or generally accomplish anything productive. How is it possible? Two words, compounded into one word:
Facebook.
I just got done musing with a friend about how we ever got along without facebook, and after conversing for a bit, realized the simple truth: we didn’t. Oh sure, we all walked and talked and went through the motions, but none of us really lived till we’d received facebook. And just I was about to suggest that we add “Thou shalt join facebook at exactly age 12” to the Bible’s 10 Commandments (we can probably do away with that one about coveting your neighbor’s manservant, maidservant and donkey, right? …What do you mean that one still applies to other possessions? Oh, I get it. Clever, God. Very clever.) my friend pointed out how incredibly thankful she was that there weren’t facebook pictures of her from middle/high school. And just like that, the memories all came flooding back to me. The hair. The fashions. The braces. The erections. All of it would’ve been documented and cemented in my own personalized hell, complete with streaming wall-feed and the option to poke. Since I totally blocked out the entirety of my memories from age 11 until about three weeks ago, I completely forgot that if facebook had been around when I’d been in middle/high school, that there would be PICTURES of me from middle/high school freely available on the internet to anyone who had a modem and a fetish for lanky 90-pound boys from Ohio. Shudder. So in retrospect, it seems as though it was a good thing that facebook didn’t arrive until the mid-collegiate stage of my life so that way I won’t be fully embarrassed about those pictures until my kids are old enough to have their own facebooks and then ask me, “Dad, why are there so many pictures of you with women who aren’t Mommy? And why are you drinking that apple juice out of a funnel attached to a plastic tube?” To which I will reply, “You’re grounded. Now go search for pictures of your mother from Halloween ’05. I bet you didn’t know she was a Nursing major for a night.” So to all you young whippersnappers who are gleefully surfing the pages of facebook right this second, IM-ing your friends, tagging pictures, and bumper-stickering each other’s walls: enjoy it while you can. Because someday you’ll be called in to your boss’ office so you can explain to him and your coworkers that Twilight dress-up parties were actually really cool back in the day. No sir, I’ll never fall into the trap of overly-loving technology ever again.
Now twitter on the other hand, what harm could possibly come from that? Oo, a new notification! Apparently stalkerchica25obsession is following me now on twitter! I’ll bet she’s a nice, harmless gal…
Until my next post (which will most likely be from some psycho-chick’s basement, tied up), cheers.
Dustin
P.S. Twitter Dustin! Do it!
Facebook.
I just got done musing with a friend about how we ever got along without facebook, and after conversing for a bit, realized the simple truth: we didn’t. Oh sure, we all walked and talked and went through the motions, but none of us really lived till we’d received facebook. And just I was about to suggest that we add “Thou shalt join facebook at exactly age 12” to the Bible’s 10 Commandments (we can probably do away with that one about coveting your neighbor’s manservant, maidservant and donkey, right? …What do you mean that one still applies to other possessions? Oh, I get it. Clever, God. Very clever.) my friend pointed out how incredibly thankful she was that there weren’t facebook pictures of her from middle/high school. And just like that, the memories all came flooding back to me. The hair. The fashions. The braces. The erections. All of it would’ve been documented and cemented in my own personalized hell, complete with streaming wall-feed and the option to poke. Since I totally blocked out the entirety of my memories from age 11 until about three weeks ago, I completely forgot that if facebook had been around when I’d been in middle/high school, that there would be PICTURES of me from middle/high school freely available on the internet to anyone who had a modem and a fetish for lanky 90-pound boys from Ohio. Shudder. So in retrospect, it seems as though it was a good thing that facebook didn’t arrive until the mid-collegiate stage of my life so that way I won’t be fully embarrassed about those pictures until my kids are old enough to have their own facebooks and then ask me, “Dad, why are there so many pictures of you with women who aren’t Mommy? And why are you drinking that apple juice out of a funnel attached to a plastic tube?” To which I will reply, “You’re grounded. Now go search for pictures of your mother from Halloween ’05. I bet you didn’t know she was a Nursing major for a night.” So to all you young whippersnappers who are gleefully surfing the pages of facebook right this second, IM-ing your friends, tagging pictures, and bumper-stickering each other’s walls: enjoy it while you can. Because someday you’ll be called in to your boss’ office so you can explain to him and your coworkers that Twilight dress-up parties were actually really cool back in the day. No sir, I’ll never fall into the trap of overly-loving technology ever again.
Now twitter on the other hand, what harm could possibly come from that? Oo, a new notification! Apparently stalkerchica25obsession is following me now on twitter! I’ll bet she’s a nice, harmless gal…
Until my next post (which will most likely be from some psycho-chick’s basement, tied up), cheers.
Dustin
P.S. Twitter Dustin! Do it!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The 2009 Dustins
With the 2009 Oscars having just wrapped up, it’s only fair that the world be exposed to a heavily-biased, illogical, inaccurate and incomplete review of the things that 2008 brought us. And everyone knows that when you think of heavily-biased, illogical, inaccurate and incomplete reviews, you think of Dustin Heveron. I don’t have a garish opening song and dance number, an Australian accent, or the tendency to openly weep during my acceptance speeches…so I think that already makes my awards show better than its gilded-statuette-loving predecessor.
And now, on with the show.
+Best Picture+
Why does The Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences make you sit through three hours of bad jokes, awkward celebrity interactions and lame commercials when all you really care about is the final four awards given? Because they can, that’s why. And it makes them a lot of money to do it that way. On the other hand, since we at the Academy of Dustin Heverons & Dustin-Lovers have no such revenue to worry about, we can just blow our wad right out of the gate (crass metaphors are a great way to get your point across while simultaneously alienating your readership. And they said LA hadn’t taught me anything). That said, the nominees for Best Picture are:
-Iron Man
-Wanted
-The Dark Knight
-Wall•E
-Quantum of Solace
…And the Dustin goes to…
[dramatic pause, cut to some chicks looking anxious]
…THE DARK KNIGHT!
There’s no question that ’08 gave us some heavy hitters, and while I loved all the above movies, The Dark Knight kicked all their asses (both literally and figuratively). The acting was top-notch, the effects were awesome without being intrusive, and the story was compelling enough to keep you interested for well-past the typical 90-minute length of your average superhero movie. The director should find whoever talked him into keeping the “epilepsy vision” gadget Batman uses at the end of the film and have Chrstian Bale shoot him execution-style at the Terminator: Salvation premiere this summer (and those of you who’ve heard his now-infamous youtube clip know he’s capable of doing all that and more if you get him angry), but other than that, I really have no complaints about this movie. It’s great. This past year was the first where the “superhero movie” truly solidified its spot as a bankable genre unto itself, so it’s only fitting that a superhero movie take home the year’s top award. As someone who’s been pretending to be a superhero since he was old enough to fall off the living room coffee table with a blanket tied around his neck, it makes the über-nerd side of me extra extra giddy to see my favorite heroes getting the big-budget treatment they deserve; however, it makes the non-über-nerd side of me…wait a second, I just remembered, there is no non-über-nerd side of me. So everyone’s happy. Moving on.
+Best Actress+
For this award, let’s keep in mind that “best” really just translates into “hottest” or “actress whose bed I would most like to find myself handcuffed to.” However, it’s hard to engrave all of that onto the base of a handheld gold trophy, so we’ll stick with “best” for now. And the nominees are:
-Rachel Bilson
-Kristen Kreuk
-The Olsen Twins (mostly Ashley)
-Hayden Panettiere
-Cameron Diaz
…And the Dustin goes to…
[not very dramatic pause, camera cuts between the five (six?) visibly uncomfortable nominees…many of whom can be seen mouthing the words “dear God, I hope it’s not me” to themselves]
…RACHEL BILSON!
Dude, she’s so hot you guys. Seriously, this is always a pretty competitive category, and this year was no exception. In the end, the winner was chosen via process of elimination more than anything else. Cameron Diaz (age 36) is getting kind of old and played out, Hayden Panettiere (age 19) is a bit too young for my liking (haha, yeah right! But I have to say that kind of thing or else people judge me), and Ashley Olsen won’t return my calls (or texts or emails or myspaces or smoke signals or bomb threats). That leaves Kristen Kreuk and Rachel Bilson. Originally the esteemed honor was going to go Ms. Kreuk, but when I googled her (wink!) about 47 seconds ago I found out that she is Canadian! And while that kind of thing doesn’t really matter in the big picture, in a contest this close, every little factor counts. Also, Rachel Bilson lives in Los Angeles, which means technically there’s a better chance that we could run into each other and she would pity-makeout with me. Hey, stupider things have happened in LA.
+Best Actor+
Typically the award for the continent’s awesomest dude who has the most kickass fighting moves, makes me laugh the hardest, or who just encompasses the epitome of badassness with wicked cool style and sensibility, this year’s nominees are:
-Brad Pitt
-Bugs Bunny
-Edward Norton
-Philip Seymour Hoffman
-Jim Carrey
…And the Dustin goes to…
[captivated silence as we slowly zoom in on Edward Norton’s closed eyes…then right at the last second…HIS EYES SHOOT OPEN AND THEY’RE GLOWING GREEN! AHHH!! Then we cut to black, implying a sequel. …Ooo, I just got chills, didn’t you?]
…DUSTIN HEVERON!
In a surprising (unsurprising) turn of events, Dustin Heveron wins the Dustin for Best Actor for an unprecedented 25th year in a row! All those actors kick ass, but come on, you really think I’m gonna give my award for favorite anything to someone else if I’m at all eligible? Get real. Mad props to those gentlemen, since they’re probably my top five favorite non-me actors, but I think I really deserved this award year, and I’m glad to see that The Academy did the right thing here in honoring me for the 25th consecutive time. But oh my, listen to me prattle on when I have so many people to thank. Ahem. First off, I’d like to thank me. There’s no way I could have achieved this level of awesomeness without myself. I was always there to support myself through the hard times, and it really paid off. I’d also like to thank Jesus for spending a weekend in Hell so that we can rock out in Heaven (aka life’s afterparty) once I’m done rocking out on Earth. And finally, I’d like to thank myself again, because apparently no one else is going to do it. Seriously, good job, me. Don’t be afraid to congratulate/hug me next time you see me.
+Best Duo of New Zealand Musical Entertainers Playing Loosely Caricaturized Versions of Themselves on a Popular HBO Sitcom+
Always one of the most hotly-contested awards The Academy hands out each year, this year’s nominees are:
-Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement, of Flight of the Conchords
…And the Dustin goes to…?
[…slightly confused pause as presenter scans rest of card and envelope, then checks the back of the envelope as well to make sure that they didn’t miss any additional nominee names written on the back or something]
…Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie. I guess.
After so many years of not having anyone to give this award to, it’s nice to finally be able to have a pair of entertainers who fit this category. And for realsies, if you haven’t seen any Flight of the Conchords stuff before, do yourself a favor and break up with your boyfriend/girlfriend, quit your job, disown your family, buy enough food to last you for several weeks, and lock yourself in your house/apartment and watch their show and listen to their music plus whatever else of theirs you can find on youtube, and don’t leave until you can quote it all verbatim, complete with your best New Zealand accent. Your life won’t be complete until you do.
+Best Re-Release of an Album with a Song Referencing Twilight on it+
No time for preamble here, because it’s too vital that I command you to GO AND BUY HOUSE OF HEROES’ NEW ALBUM, THE END IS NOT THE END!!! In stores, online, at a show — it doesn’t matter how you get access to this album (as long as you’re shelling out some $$$ for it…these guys aren’t your standard corporate sellout band and they’re not getting nine-figure checks from The Man every week (I’m looking at you, Jonas Bros.), they need your support to keep making the modern era’s greatest music), but trust me when I say that you will not be able to forgive yourself if you waste even one second before buying this album. These guys are like Queen for generation teXt, and they literally have something for everyone on their album — without being the broad, simple, depth-less crap you primarily hear on the radio. I seriously can’t endorse these guys enough, and if that’s not plenty of motivation, in July of ’09 I’ll be starting a nationwide tour where I go door-to-door to every single home in America and personally teabag anyone who hasn’t purchased this album by then. Go ahead, call my bluff…I dare you.
And the last (and definitely least) award for the evening,
+Best Time for Dustin to Go to Sleep+
A largely debated award, the Academy seems to rarely unanimously agree on who the winner should be, which always makes for good water-cooler conversation the day after the awards. This year’s nominees are:
-Before 11pm
-Anytime after 10 o’clock
-1:39am
-Whenever he damn well feels like it
-Between 1am-3am
…And the Dustin goes to…
[long, drawn-out pause…and then the pause continues…for too long. More pause. Slowly the music fades, the lights go out and there is silence as Dustin has fallen asleep before the award can be revealed. Oh well, I guess this one will just have to remain a surprise until next year. Don’t wanna wake the big guy…he looks so peaceful when he sleeps, and let’s be honest, it’s the only time you can get him to shut up for a change. Yeesh. Have a great night folks, and be sure to tip your bartenders.
Much love,
Dustin]
[fade to black]
And now, on with the show.
+Best Picture+
Why does The Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences make you sit through three hours of bad jokes, awkward celebrity interactions and lame commercials when all you really care about is the final four awards given? Because they can, that’s why. And it makes them a lot of money to do it that way. On the other hand, since we at the Academy of Dustin Heverons & Dustin-Lovers have no such revenue to worry about, we can just blow our wad right out of the gate (crass metaphors are a great way to get your point across while simultaneously alienating your readership. And they said LA hadn’t taught me anything). That said, the nominees for Best Picture are:
-Iron Man
-Wanted
-The Dark Knight
-Wall•E
-Quantum of Solace
…And the Dustin goes to…
[dramatic pause, cut to some chicks looking anxious]
…THE DARK KNIGHT!
There’s no question that ’08 gave us some heavy hitters, and while I loved all the above movies, The Dark Knight kicked all their asses (both literally and figuratively). The acting was top-notch, the effects were awesome without being intrusive, and the story was compelling enough to keep you interested for well-past the typical 90-minute length of your average superhero movie. The director should find whoever talked him into keeping the “epilepsy vision” gadget Batman uses at the end of the film and have Chrstian Bale shoot him execution-style at the Terminator: Salvation premiere this summer (and those of you who’ve heard his now-infamous youtube clip know he’s capable of doing all that and more if you get him angry), but other than that, I really have no complaints about this movie. It’s great. This past year was the first where the “superhero movie” truly solidified its spot as a bankable genre unto itself, so it’s only fitting that a superhero movie take home the year’s top award. As someone who’s been pretending to be a superhero since he was old enough to fall off the living room coffee table with a blanket tied around his neck, it makes the über-nerd side of me extra extra giddy to see my favorite heroes getting the big-budget treatment they deserve; however, it makes the non-über-nerd side of me…wait a second, I just remembered, there is no non-über-nerd side of me. So everyone’s happy. Moving on.
+Best Actress+
For this award, let’s keep in mind that “best” really just translates into “hottest” or “actress whose bed I would most like to find myself handcuffed to.” However, it’s hard to engrave all of that onto the base of a handheld gold trophy, so we’ll stick with “best” for now. And the nominees are:
-Rachel Bilson
-Kristen Kreuk
-The Olsen Twins (mostly Ashley)
-Hayden Panettiere
-Cameron Diaz
…And the Dustin goes to…
[not very dramatic pause, camera cuts between the five (six?) visibly uncomfortable nominees…many of whom can be seen mouthing the words “dear God, I hope it’s not me” to themselves]
…RACHEL BILSON!
Dude, she’s so hot you guys. Seriously, this is always a pretty competitive category, and this year was no exception. In the end, the winner was chosen via process of elimination more than anything else. Cameron Diaz (age 36) is getting kind of old and played out, Hayden Panettiere (age 19) is a bit too young for my liking (haha, yeah right! But I have to say that kind of thing or else people judge me), and Ashley Olsen won’t return my calls (or texts or emails or myspaces or smoke signals or bomb threats). That leaves Kristen Kreuk and Rachel Bilson. Originally the esteemed honor was going to go Ms. Kreuk, but when I googled her (wink!) about 47 seconds ago I found out that she is Canadian! And while that kind of thing doesn’t really matter in the big picture, in a contest this close, every little factor counts. Also, Rachel Bilson lives in Los Angeles, which means technically there’s a better chance that we could run into each other and she would pity-makeout with me. Hey, stupider things have happened in LA.
+Best Actor+
Typically the award for the continent’s awesomest dude who has the most kickass fighting moves, makes me laugh the hardest, or who just encompasses the epitome of badassness with wicked cool style and sensibility, this year’s nominees are:
-Brad Pitt
-Bugs Bunny
-Edward Norton
-Philip Seymour Hoffman
-Jim Carrey
…And the Dustin goes to…
[captivated silence as we slowly zoom in on Edward Norton’s closed eyes…then right at the last second…HIS EYES SHOOT OPEN AND THEY’RE GLOWING GREEN! AHHH!! Then we cut to black, implying a sequel. …Ooo, I just got chills, didn’t you?]
…DUSTIN HEVERON!
In a surprising (unsurprising) turn of events, Dustin Heveron wins the Dustin for Best Actor for an unprecedented 25th year in a row! All those actors kick ass, but come on, you really think I’m gonna give my award for favorite anything to someone else if I’m at all eligible? Get real. Mad props to those gentlemen, since they’re probably my top five favorite non-me actors, but I think I really deserved this award year, and I’m glad to see that The Academy did the right thing here in honoring me for the 25th consecutive time. But oh my, listen to me prattle on when I have so many people to thank. Ahem. First off, I’d like to thank me. There’s no way I could have achieved this level of awesomeness without myself. I was always there to support myself through the hard times, and it really paid off. I’d also like to thank Jesus for spending a weekend in Hell so that we can rock out in Heaven (aka life’s afterparty) once I’m done rocking out on Earth. And finally, I’d like to thank myself again, because apparently no one else is going to do it. Seriously, good job, me. Don’t be afraid to congratulate/hug me next time you see me.
+Best Duo of New Zealand Musical Entertainers Playing Loosely Caricaturized Versions of Themselves on a Popular HBO Sitcom+
Always one of the most hotly-contested awards The Academy hands out each year, this year’s nominees are:
-Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement, of Flight of the Conchords
…And the Dustin goes to…?
[…slightly confused pause as presenter scans rest of card and envelope, then checks the back of the envelope as well to make sure that they didn’t miss any additional nominee names written on the back or something]
…Jemaine Clement and Bret McKenzie. I guess.
After so many years of not having anyone to give this award to, it’s nice to finally be able to have a pair of entertainers who fit this category. And for realsies, if you haven’t seen any Flight of the Conchords stuff before, do yourself a favor and break up with your boyfriend/girlfriend, quit your job, disown your family, buy enough food to last you for several weeks, and lock yourself in your house/apartment and watch their show and listen to their music plus whatever else of theirs you can find on youtube, and don’t leave until you can quote it all verbatim, complete with your best New Zealand accent. Your life won’t be complete until you do.
+Best Re-Release of an Album with a Song Referencing Twilight on it+
No time for preamble here, because it’s too vital that I command you to GO AND BUY HOUSE OF HEROES’ NEW ALBUM, THE END IS NOT THE END!!! In stores, online, at a show — it doesn’t matter how you get access to this album (as long as you’re shelling out some $$$ for it…these guys aren’t your standard corporate sellout band and they’re not getting nine-figure checks from The Man every week (I’m looking at you, Jonas Bros.), they need your support to keep making the modern era’s greatest music), but trust me when I say that you will not be able to forgive yourself if you waste even one second before buying this album. These guys are like Queen for generation teXt, and they literally have something for everyone on their album — without being the broad, simple, depth-less crap you primarily hear on the radio. I seriously can’t endorse these guys enough, and if that’s not plenty of motivation, in July of ’09 I’ll be starting a nationwide tour where I go door-to-door to every single home in America and personally teabag anyone who hasn’t purchased this album by then. Go ahead, call my bluff…I dare you.
And the last (and definitely least) award for the evening,
+Best Time for Dustin to Go to Sleep+
A largely debated award, the Academy seems to rarely unanimously agree on who the winner should be, which always makes for good water-cooler conversation the day after the awards. This year’s nominees are:
-Before 11pm
-Anytime after 10 o’clock
-1:39am
-Whenever he damn well feels like it
-Between 1am-3am
…And the Dustin goes to…
[long, drawn-out pause…and then the pause continues…for too long. More pause. Slowly the music fades, the lights go out and there is silence as Dustin has fallen asleep before the award can be revealed. Oh well, I guess this one will just have to remain a surprise until next year. Don’t wanna wake the big guy…he looks so peaceful when he sleeps, and let’s be honest, it’s the only time you can get him to shut up for a change. Yeesh. Have a great night folks, and be sure to tip your bartenders.
Much love,
Dustin]
[fade to black]
Saturday, February 21, 2009
That Time of the Month
...For a brand new Dustin-Blog! You want a life update? Fine, here it is. Work, headshots, cleanse, fun, sun, gym, sleep. There. There’s your damn life update.
Now onto the important stuff!
I’ve taken a lot of Cosmo and GQ quizzes lately (nevermind why) and I’ve decided that there should be more quizzes about my life. Here’s one to get you started. This is all a precursor to having someone do a monthly magazine that is solely about me and what I like (if Oprah can do it, then so can I).
Quiz #1: How to tell if you’re married to Dustin Heveron
1 — Are you married to Dustin Heveron?
a) yes, I’m wearing his ring right now.
b) I might be, he jokingly proposed to me at some point.
c) no, I find him utterly repulsive.
2 — Have you and Dustin ever been in a facebook relationship?
a) yes, we were facebook-married/engaged and had a great facebook honeymoon.
b) yes, but we only got as far as facebook-engaged, we never facebook-tied-the-knot.
c) no, I would never knowingly associate myself with Dustin, and people who fabricate facebook relationships should be shot, execution style.
3 — Has Dustin ever publicly admitted to having some sort of crush on you?
a) yes, every single time I see him he’s going on about how cute our kids would be or some nonsense.
b) kind of; I think I overheard him practicing asking me out in the bathroom once.
c) yes, and several restraining orders later, he hasn’t stopped publicly declaring it.
4 — How many mix CDs has Dustin made you, and what were the themes?
a) 20 or more; mostly they were compilations of 80’s rock ballads.
b) 10-20; but they were primarily intended to be mixes for some road trip we took.
c) 10 or fewer; all of them were mindless, catchy pop-punk covers of already famous songs.
5 — Has Dustin ever written you a song and then poorly performed it for you?
a) yes, constantly! Neither a birthday nor national holiday goes by without another four-chord monstrosity of his attacking my ears.
b) yes, but it generally just referenced the TV show Trading Spaces and/or ultimate frisbee.
c) yes, but it was so out of tune and poorly-mumbled that I couldn’t really understand any of it.
6 — Have you ever appeared on national television with Dustin?
a) not yet, but he keeps saying he wants to rent some commercial ad space to tell the world we’re together.
b) only once, during a song montage, but only because my producer told me I had to.
c) only as a special guest on Dateline to help catch him.
7 — What do you think of Dustin’s physique?
a) him? Let’s just hope he’s funny or something.
b) he kind of has a Calista Flockhart meets Hilary Swank thing going on.
c) his skin looks like it was draped loosely over his skeleton, then someone used one of those infomercial “suck the air out of the bag to save space” products to pull it as tight to his body as physically possible.
8 — Describe Dustin’s fashion savvy and sense of style:
a) eh, I’ve seen worse. I guess everyone goes through a high school “tight fit, bright colors” phase…I just thought his would’ve ended after he graduated…college.
b) I just don’t look directly at him when I’m hungover, and we get by ok.
c) I haven’t seen someone with that much neon-orange apparel who wasn’t doing time in the California State Penitentiary.
9 — What’s the first thing you think when you make plans to hang out with Dustin?
a) if we stay in well lit, public places, he wouldn’t put any “moves” on me…would he?
b) I should be ok as long as I call my co-host, Ty Pennington, to come with us.
c) oh, great. Looks like I’ll need to watch my drink all night.
10 — Where do you see Dustin in five years?
a) with me in our decently-priced apartment/condo by the beach in West LA.
b) probably asking me to borrow money that he doesn’t intend to pay back.
c) in the California State Penitentiary for violation of restraining orders and sexual harassment.
…Ok, everyone have your answers written down? Good, here’s the key to find out whether or not you’re married to Dustin Heveron.
If you answered mostly A’s:
You and Dustin are definitely married, or should be. Please be a hot chick with an open mind about boundaries.
If you answered mostly B’s:
You and Dustin aren’t married, you’re just part of the general masses that enjoy his company. Or you’re Paige Davis, host of TV’s Trading Spaces.
If you answered mostly C’s:
You and Dustin are definitely NOT married, and you probably go out of your way to avoid Dustin at any cost. This category also encompasses every girl Dustin’s liked since age 14.
See what I did there? Played the hilarity card for most of the quiz, and then BAM, hit you with a sad emotional truth so it wouldn’t seem so sad in context? Classic. Oh God, I need my therapist (Dr. Jack Daniels, PhD). Which brings me to my next idea for a great bumper-sticker to adorn the back of my ’07 Ford Focus SE. It would say:
“Jesus is my therapist.”
Or maybe:
Get it? It’s funny ‘cause it’s true! And because I can’t afford a real therapist. And because going to therapy is like admitting you lost at life. Well guess what, life? I WIN this round! See you in overtime, sucka!
And on that note, I bid you adieu for now…hopefully it won’t be a full month before I see your smiling faces again.
Seacrest out!
Dustin
Now onto the important stuff!
I’ve taken a lot of Cosmo and GQ quizzes lately (nevermind why) and I’ve decided that there should be more quizzes about my life. Here’s one to get you started. This is all a precursor to having someone do a monthly magazine that is solely about me and what I like (if Oprah can do it, then so can I).
Quiz #1: How to tell if you’re married to Dustin Heveron
1 — Are you married to Dustin Heveron?
a) yes, I’m wearing his ring right now.
b) I might be, he jokingly proposed to me at some point.
c) no, I find him utterly repulsive.
2 — Have you and Dustin ever been in a facebook relationship?
a) yes, we were facebook-married/engaged and had a great facebook honeymoon.
b) yes, but we only got as far as facebook-engaged, we never facebook-tied-the-knot.
c) no, I would never knowingly associate myself with Dustin, and people who fabricate facebook relationships should be shot, execution style.
3 — Has Dustin ever publicly admitted to having some sort of crush on you?
a) yes, every single time I see him he’s going on about how cute our kids would be or some nonsense.
b) kind of; I think I overheard him practicing asking me out in the bathroom once.
c) yes, and several restraining orders later, he hasn’t stopped publicly declaring it.
4 — How many mix CDs has Dustin made you, and what were the themes?
a) 20 or more; mostly they were compilations of 80’s rock ballads.
b) 10-20; but they were primarily intended to be mixes for some road trip we took.
c) 10 or fewer; all of them were mindless, catchy pop-punk covers of already famous songs.
5 — Has Dustin ever written you a song and then poorly performed it for you?
a) yes, constantly! Neither a birthday nor national holiday goes by without another four-chord monstrosity of his attacking my ears.
b) yes, but it generally just referenced the TV show Trading Spaces and/or ultimate frisbee.
c) yes, but it was so out of tune and poorly-mumbled that I couldn’t really understand any of it.
6 — Have you ever appeared on national television with Dustin?
a) not yet, but he keeps saying he wants to rent some commercial ad space to tell the world we’re together.
b) only once, during a song montage, but only because my producer told me I had to.
c) only as a special guest on Dateline to help catch him.
7 — What do you think of Dustin’s physique?
a) him? Let’s just hope he’s funny or something.
b) he kind of has a Calista Flockhart meets Hilary Swank thing going on.
c) his skin looks like it was draped loosely over his skeleton, then someone used one of those infomercial “suck the air out of the bag to save space” products to pull it as tight to his body as physically possible.
8 — Describe Dustin’s fashion savvy and sense of style:
a) eh, I’ve seen worse. I guess everyone goes through a high school “tight fit, bright colors” phase…I just thought his would’ve ended after he graduated…college.
b) I just don’t look directly at him when I’m hungover, and we get by ok.
c) I haven’t seen someone with that much neon-orange apparel who wasn’t doing time in the California State Penitentiary.
9 — What’s the first thing you think when you make plans to hang out with Dustin?
a) if we stay in well lit, public places, he wouldn’t put any “moves” on me…would he?
b) I should be ok as long as I call my co-host, Ty Pennington, to come with us.
c) oh, great. Looks like I’ll need to watch my drink all night.
10 — Where do you see Dustin in five years?
a) with me in our decently-priced apartment/condo by the beach in West LA.
b) probably asking me to borrow money that he doesn’t intend to pay back.
c) in the California State Penitentiary for violation of restraining orders and sexual harassment.
…Ok, everyone have your answers written down? Good, here’s the key to find out whether or not you’re married to Dustin Heveron.
If you answered mostly A’s:
You and Dustin are definitely married, or should be. Please be a hot chick with an open mind about boundaries.
If you answered mostly B’s:
You and Dustin aren’t married, you’re just part of the general masses that enjoy his company. Or you’re Paige Davis, host of TV’s Trading Spaces.
If you answered mostly C’s:
You and Dustin are definitely NOT married, and you probably go out of your way to avoid Dustin at any cost. This category also encompasses every girl Dustin’s liked since age 14.
See what I did there? Played the hilarity card for most of the quiz, and then BAM, hit you with a sad emotional truth so it wouldn’t seem so sad in context? Classic. Oh God, I need my therapist (Dr. Jack Daniels, PhD). Which brings me to my next idea for a great bumper-sticker to adorn the back of my ’07 Ford Focus SE. It would say:
“Jesus is my therapist.”
Or maybe:
“My BAC is higher than your honor student’s GPA. Still wanna tailgate me?”
Get it? It’s funny ‘cause it’s true! And because I can’t afford a real therapist. And because going to therapy is like admitting you lost at life. Well guess what, life? I WIN this round! See you in overtime, sucka!
And on that note, I bid you adieu for now…hopefully it won’t be a full month before I see your smiling faces again.
Seacrest out!
Dustin
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The Steelers Suck (And You Can, Too!)
Through some unholy necromancy, the Pittsburgh Steelers are in the Superbowl this year. Since there’s so much hype around this team, I figured a lot of people would want to emulate the qualities of the AFC divisional champs who hail from the Dirty Burgh, so I’ve put together this easy step-by-step guide on how to be just like the Pittsburgh Steelers. And since it’s a tax write-off, I’m not even going to charge you for this handy-dandy guide! Go me!
Dustin Heveron’s Official Guide to Becoming Just Like the Pittsburgh Steelers:
Step 1 — Suck.
Step 2 — Suck at everything, on and off the field. Here are some examples of ways to suck: suck at sports, money-management, relationships, public speaking, and playing fair. Don’t donate to charity, steal from the elderly, shoot people and animals indiscriminately, be friends with Dallas Cowboys’ LB Adam “Pacman” Jones, invest in the stock market, eat at McDonald’s, be friends with NY Giants WR Plaxico “Frogger” Burress, vote republican, urinate in public, vote democratic, be friends with Bengals WR Chris “Mario Bros.” Henry, spit in the subway, chew sunscreen and wear tobacco, be friends with Cleveland Browns TE Kellen “Pong” Winslow, write checks to pay for everything, and brag about how much Axe® Brand bodyspray you can chug.
Step 3 — Dress like you’re colorblind. Since when do neon yellow and pitch black make a good color combination? Well if it works for bumble bees and yield signs, why not for a group of fully grown men and their fans?
Step 4 — Play dirty. Pretend you’re a vodka martini with three olives, extra dirty. How can a team with a mediocre quarterback and a banged-up offensive unit win a playoff game against the dirtiest bunch of cheaters in the AFC (The Baltimore Ravens)? By playing even dirtier. Purple nurples, sneaky Houdinis, horsecollars, atomic wedgies, waterboarding and some good ol’ fashioned teabagging…just do whatever underhanded BS you think you can get away with on the field — you’re the Steelers, people expect it!
Step 5 — Pretend Bill Cowher was good. At anything. The final step in becoming just like the Steelers is to sit down, look at yourself in the mirror, and try and convince yourself that Bill Cowher was good at/for anything. For advanced bandwagoners, go the extra mile and try and convince yourself that on top of that, Bill Cowher is in any way a decent human being, that you are proud to be associated with him and that you think he was a wise head coach and is a good NFL commentator. If you can brainwash yourself completely enough that you can honestly say with a straight face that Bill Cowher is anything but the world’s biggest a**hole, then your journey to become just like the Pittsburgh Steelers will be complete.
Congratulations! You are now just like the Pittsburgh Steelers! Sit back and enjoy your completed transformation by grabbing one of your subordinates by the facemask and screaming at them for something that was primarily your fault for 12-15 minutes. If you can get some of your spittle to fly into their eyes while you’re yelling, great, but don’t worry if you can’t, this course is just for beginners and we’ll cover the more advanced techniques to becoming a Pittsburgh Steeler at a later date. In the meantime, try to get used to drinking Yueng-Ling (Pittsburgh’s favorite urine-flavored beverage) and defending Three Rivers Stadium to your friends from out of town. Phrases like, “the smell’s not that bad once you get used to it” are pretty effective.
In closing, I will be rooting for Kurt Warner (The Six Million Dollar Man…he’s more machine than man at this point) and The Arizona (Phoenix) Cardinals this weekend. And to answer your question: no, I’m not still bitter about the Steelers taking a cheap shot at Carson Palmer in the ’06 playoffs that resulted in the destruction of Palmer’s ACL and the Bengals franchise along with it. Why would you think that?
Seacrest out!
Dustin
P.S. Angry propositions (aka mad props) to my chum Colin for pointing out that I probably need an alternate sign-off to replace my usual “Cheers” while I’m detoxing. We'll see how long I can use this one before I get sued for copyright infringement.
Bill Cowher: He's got a face only a mother could love...if that mother was blind, deaf, dumb and loved ugly/angry things.
Dustin Heveron’s Official Guide to Becoming Just Like the Pittsburgh Steelers:
Step 1 — Suck.
Step 2 — Suck at everything, on and off the field. Here are some examples of ways to suck: suck at sports, money-management, relationships, public speaking, and playing fair. Don’t donate to charity, steal from the elderly, shoot people and animals indiscriminately, be friends with Dallas Cowboys’ LB Adam “Pacman” Jones, invest in the stock market, eat at McDonald’s, be friends with NY Giants WR Plaxico “Frogger” Burress, vote republican, urinate in public, vote democratic, be friends with Bengals WR Chris “Mario Bros.” Henry, spit in the subway, chew sunscreen and wear tobacco, be friends with Cleveland Browns TE Kellen “Pong” Winslow, write checks to pay for everything, and brag about how much Axe® Brand bodyspray you can chug.
Step 3 — Dress like you’re colorblind. Since when do neon yellow and pitch black make a good color combination? Well if it works for bumble bees and yield signs, why not for a group of fully grown men and their fans?
Step 4 — Play dirty. Pretend you’re a vodka martini with three olives, extra dirty. How can a team with a mediocre quarterback and a banged-up offensive unit win a playoff game against the dirtiest bunch of cheaters in the AFC (The Baltimore Ravens)? By playing even dirtier. Purple nurples, sneaky Houdinis, horsecollars, atomic wedgies, waterboarding and some good ol’ fashioned teabagging…just do whatever underhanded BS you think you can get away with on the field — you’re the Steelers, people expect it!
Step 5 — Pretend Bill Cowher was good. At anything. The final step in becoming just like the Steelers is to sit down, look at yourself in the mirror, and try and convince yourself that Bill Cowher was good at/for anything. For advanced bandwagoners, go the extra mile and try and convince yourself that on top of that, Bill Cowher is in any way a decent human being, that you are proud to be associated with him and that you think he was a wise head coach and is a good NFL commentator. If you can brainwash yourself completely enough that you can honestly say with a straight face that Bill Cowher is anything but the world’s biggest a**hole, then your journey to become just like the Pittsburgh Steelers will be complete.
Congratulations! You are now just like the Pittsburgh Steelers! Sit back and enjoy your completed transformation by grabbing one of your subordinates by the facemask and screaming at them for something that was primarily your fault for 12-15 minutes. If you can get some of your spittle to fly into their eyes while you’re yelling, great, but don’t worry if you can’t, this course is just for beginners and we’ll cover the more advanced techniques to becoming a Pittsburgh Steeler at a later date. In the meantime, try to get used to drinking Yueng-Ling (Pittsburgh’s favorite urine-flavored beverage) and defending Three Rivers Stadium to your friends from out of town. Phrases like, “the smell’s not that bad once you get used to it” are pretty effective.
In closing, I will be rooting for Kurt Warner (The Six Million Dollar Man…he’s more machine than man at this point) and The Arizona (Phoenix) Cardinals this weekend. And to answer your question: no, I’m not still bitter about the Steelers taking a cheap shot at Carson Palmer in the ’06 playoffs that resulted in the destruction of Palmer’s ACL and the Bengals franchise along with it. Why would you think that?
Seacrest out!
Dustin
P.S. Angry propositions (aka mad props) to my chum Colin for pointing out that I probably need an alternate sign-off to replace my usual “Cheers” while I’m detoxing. We'll see how long I can use this one before I get sued for copyright infringement.
Bill Cowher: He's got a face only a mother could love...if that mother was blind, deaf, dumb and loved ugly/angry things.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Dustin Heveron: Year Two: The Journey Towards Lame: Special Colon Edition: With Bonus Colons
If you and I have taken a picture together in the last four to six weeks, you should be furious with me for not making them available online yet. I’d like to tell you that I was just waiting for all the New Year and Inauguration hype to die down so that people would be able to properly enjoy me and my friends in all of our photogenic-ness…but anyone who knows me knows that I’m just being lazy. Anyone who doesn’t know me, though, is probably still under the impression that I’m a decent and likeable guy. Suckers.
For those of you keeping score at home, I have officially lived in LA for a little over a year now. When I first moved out here, my primary goals were to obtain a decent job; live in a nice part of town close to the beach; reunite with old friends and make new ones; and cure cancer. With some minimal resistance along the way, I have done all of that pretty successfully (still working on that last one). The key to constant self-perfection is remembering to set new goals as you achieve the old ones. So that said, my short-term goal for the new year is to become lame. This is kind of an odd goal for me since I’m already so predisposed to lameness (I’m skinny, dorky, uncoordinated, etc.) and I’ve spent roughly 24.75 years of my 25-year life pretending to be cool and not lame. However, it’s time to cowboy up and embrace my inner lameness in order to achieve my ultimate goal of advancing in the entertainment industry.
A quick aside: Mark Cuban is a major major douche. If you don’t know who Mark Cuban is, he’s the billionaire part-owner and resident douche of the NBA’s Dallas Mavericks. And aside from being living proof that money can’t buy happiness (or tact, or love, or brains, or fashion sense, or likability, or a decent haircut, or an NBA championship), he is perhaps the second biggest douche associated with professional sports (behind only OJ Simpson). Also, he’s a douche. And now you know.
Now back to the most important topic: me. What exactly do I mean when I say that I will be striving to become lame? And how will being lame help me with my goals? Well let me break it down for you by telling you some of the things I’ll be doing in order to achieve my version of lameness:
-Go Out Less
I love LA, and there are a million things to do in this city at any given time (except when it rains), however, by going out less and staying in more often I can maximize the amount of time I have for important things like sleep and networking; while minimizing the amount of money I spend on unnecessary things such as extra gas, alcohol, cover charges, etc. Which leads me to my next step…
-Drink Less/Detox
Drinking’s awesome, you guys (if you’re over 21, of course). And even though I drink responsibly and within my limits, drinking even less (or not at all for a limited time) will help me save money that I can spend on headshots, union dues, and the like. Also, I’m trying to get into some kind of decent shape, and I’ve yet to see a fitness program that includes doing shots of tequila before working out. So unless it’s some kind of incredibly worthy occasion, I won’t be consuming anything really bad for me (as I deem it: coffee, alcohol, fast food, and anything else detrimental) until I break my detox in March to go back to Vegas with some friends for Spring Break (and yes, apparently you can still take a spring break when you’ve been graduated for almost three years).
-Read More
It’s a fact: reading sharpens the mind, widens the vocabulary, and repels cool LA girls. With a sharper mind, wider vocab, and fewer girls to distract me, who knows what I could accomplish?
-Shop Less
As much as I hate to admit it…I probably have enough stuff for the moment. I recently stocked up on some things I needed to replace, but really I can do without a PS3 and new shoes and all the other stuff that usually catches my eye.
-Write More
There’s a lot of things I like to write (scripts, comedy bits, blog posts, love letters to Rachel Bilson), and hopefully my newly cultivated free time will allow me to focus on doing more of that writing. That’s a bonus to you, too, since you clearly love my writing enough to make it this far down into a relatively boring post. Don’t worry, I love you, too.
-Work More
Whether it’s working extra shifts at work, or working as an extra on film sets, or whatever other odd jobs God drops in my lap, the fact of the matter is that money is necessary evil (SAG membership doesn’t come cheap) and accumulating it while I have the time to is probably a good idea.
-Athlete More
Football with coworkers, basketball with roommates, snowboarding with chums from all over…the Greeks knew eons ago that athletic activity was a great release and one of the essential components to becoming a dialectic thinker. I’ve never let lack of athletic ability keep from participating before, and it certainly won’t stop me now. My main goals are to get decent at the major board sports this year (surfing, snowboarding, skateboarding).
…There are other things I’m forgetting on that list, no doubt, but you get the idea. Basically, for the first time in my life that I can remember, the social aspect of my life is taking a backseat to the responsible aspect. How long for? I’m not sure yet. Right now I’m thinking about six months of being lame ought to be enough to build a good foundation for the future, but really it’s going to go on for as long as I think I need the extra focus on my first love: performance. Hopefully around six months from now I’ll be able to start swapping out some lame things for slightly cooler things like more legit auditions, classes and networking, and maybe even shooting some of my own stuff just for the hell of it. All I really know for sure is that for the moment, this feels like the right thing to do. Don’t worry, I’ll still go out and see movies with people, I’ll still plan cross-country trips to visit family and friends (I hear NYC in the spring is awesome), and I’ll still make completely inappropriate comments at completely inappropriate times. And regardless of how other things shake down, I’ll still keep you posted with real stories from my life and fictional stories from the wine cellar of my imagination here in Blogland.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get a full night’s sleep so I can write you something entertaining after I work all weekend.
Cheers,
Dustin
For those of you keeping score at home, I have officially lived in LA for a little over a year now. When I first moved out here, my primary goals were to obtain a decent job; live in a nice part of town close to the beach; reunite with old friends and make new ones; and cure cancer. With some minimal resistance along the way, I have done all of that pretty successfully (still working on that last one). The key to constant self-perfection is remembering to set new goals as you achieve the old ones. So that said, my short-term goal for the new year is to become lame. This is kind of an odd goal for me since I’m already so predisposed to lameness (I’m skinny, dorky, uncoordinated, etc.) and I’ve spent roughly 24.75 years of my 25-year life pretending to be cool and not lame. However, it’s time to cowboy up and embrace my inner lameness in order to achieve my ultimate goal of advancing in the entertainment industry.
A quick aside: Mark Cuban is a major major douche. If you don’t know who Mark Cuban is, he’s the billionaire part-owner and resident douche of the NBA’s Dallas Mavericks. And aside from being living proof that money can’t buy happiness (or tact, or love, or brains, or fashion sense, or likability, or a decent haircut, or an NBA championship), he is perhaps the second biggest douche associated with professional sports (behind only OJ Simpson). Also, he’s a douche. And now you know.
Now back to the most important topic: me. What exactly do I mean when I say that I will be striving to become lame? And how will being lame help me with my goals? Well let me break it down for you by telling you some of the things I’ll be doing in order to achieve my version of lameness:
-Go Out Less
I love LA, and there are a million things to do in this city at any given time (except when it rains), however, by going out less and staying in more often I can maximize the amount of time I have for important things like sleep and networking; while minimizing the amount of money I spend on unnecessary things such as extra gas, alcohol, cover charges, etc. Which leads me to my next step…
-Drink Less/Detox
Drinking’s awesome, you guys (if you’re over 21, of course). And even though I drink responsibly and within my limits, drinking even less (or not at all for a limited time) will help me save money that I can spend on headshots, union dues, and the like. Also, I’m trying to get into some kind of decent shape, and I’ve yet to see a fitness program that includes doing shots of tequila before working out. So unless it’s some kind of incredibly worthy occasion, I won’t be consuming anything really bad for me (as I deem it: coffee, alcohol, fast food, and anything else detrimental) until I break my detox in March to go back to Vegas with some friends for Spring Break (and yes, apparently you can still take a spring break when you’ve been graduated for almost three years).
-Read More
It’s a fact: reading sharpens the mind, widens the vocabulary, and repels cool LA girls. With a sharper mind, wider vocab, and fewer girls to distract me, who knows what I could accomplish?
-Shop Less
As much as I hate to admit it…I probably have enough stuff for the moment. I recently stocked up on some things I needed to replace, but really I can do without a PS3 and new shoes and all the other stuff that usually catches my eye.
-Write More
There’s a lot of things I like to write (scripts, comedy bits, blog posts, love letters to Rachel Bilson), and hopefully my newly cultivated free time will allow me to focus on doing more of that writing. That’s a bonus to you, too, since you clearly love my writing enough to make it this far down into a relatively boring post. Don’t worry, I love you, too.
-Work More
Whether it’s working extra shifts at work, or working as an extra on film sets, or whatever other odd jobs God drops in my lap, the fact of the matter is that money is necessary evil (SAG membership doesn’t come cheap) and accumulating it while I have the time to is probably a good idea.
-Athlete More
Football with coworkers, basketball with roommates, snowboarding with chums from all over…the Greeks knew eons ago that athletic activity was a great release and one of the essential components to becoming a dialectic thinker. I’ve never let lack of athletic ability keep from participating before, and it certainly won’t stop me now. My main goals are to get decent at the major board sports this year (surfing, snowboarding, skateboarding).
…There are other things I’m forgetting on that list, no doubt, but you get the idea. Basically, for the first time in my life that I can remember, the social aspect of my life is taking a backseat to the responsible aspect. How long for? I’m not sure yet. Right now I’m thinking about six months of being lame ought to be enough to build a good foundation for the future, but really it’s going to go on for as long as I think I need the extra focus on my first love: performance. Hopefully around six months from now I’ll be able to start swapping out some lame things for slightly cooler things like more legit auditions, classes and networking, and maybe even shooting some of my own stuff just for the hell of it. All I really know for sure is that for the moment, this feels like the right thing to do. Don’t worry, I’ll still go out and see movies with people, I’ll still plan cross-country trips to visit family and friends (I hear NYC in the spring is awesome), and I’ll still make completely inappropriate comments at completely inappropriate times. And regardless of how other things shake down, I’ll still keep you posted with real stories from my life and fictional stories from the wine cellar of my imagination here in Blogland.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go get a full night’s sleep so I can write you something entertaining after I work all weekend.
Cheers,
Dustin
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
It Costs $50 to Spit in New York City
…which leads me to my thesis statement of this post: it costs more to spit legally in New York City than it does to park illegally in Los Angeles. Must be the recession.
So I’m watching The Forbidden Kingdom on dvd (I lost interest once one of the bad guys started fighting with her hair) and I decided to reflect on how amazing the past year has been for me. Because that’s what I do when I’m bored: I think about how awesome I am. For those of you unfamiliar with my life story (detached enough to not know my history, yet interested enough to read this blog?), a quick year-by-year recap would look like this (all dates are approximate):
+1983 — Born in California (Palm Springs).
+1984 — Learned to pee.
+1985-1987 — Napped.
+1988 — Went to Disneyland for the first time.
+1989 — Cast in first acting role; portrayed Mr. D, a character on the educational children’s show, The Letter People.
+1990 — Got yelled at by my teacher (Mrs. Klebe) for referencing The Letter People on the first day of 1st grade. It dawns on me that she was probably younger then, than I am now. Which just makes her more of a jerk.
+1991 — Started rooting for the Cincinnati Bengals…they wouldn’t post a winning season for the next 15 years.
+1992-1995 — Watched/Quoted The Little Mermaid.
+1996 — Kicked out of then-unknown boy band N*Sync for being “too good looking.”
+1997 — Learned to pee in a bathroom.
+1998 — Didn’t happen. I’m convinced that 1998 was just a figment of my imagination.
+1999 — Saw The Matrix.
+2000 — Fixed the international “Y2K bug” using only a garden hose, some Silly Putty, and the color cerulean.
+2001 — Fixed the less-popular “Y2K1 bug,” which turned out not be a bug at all, just a crappy VCR.
+2002 — Graduated…kind of (can’t seem to find that diploma anywhere).
+2003-2005 — Mostly blacked out.
+2006 — Graduated…kind of (I don’t know if it counts as graduating if no one outside of Westerville, OH has ever heard of your college).
+2007 — Did some “real world.” Didn’t like it.
+2008 — Fined for peeing.
+2009 — Fined for spitting.
And there you have it. My quarter-century of existence reduced to a few fragmented sentences and a couple heavily-misused mathematical symbols. That’s what a $30K-per-year private college education gets you, apparently. However, all you Dustin Fans out there needn’t worry, the story doesn’t end here, it only gets more exciting! Don’t believe me? It’s probably because I’m lying! No but really, here’s a look at some of the amazing and exciting things I have planned for the next several years of my life:
+2010 — Figure out some sort of shortened slang for the new year since we can’t say “Oh-Nine” to mean ’09 anymore. Nobody wants to go around saying “Twenty-Ten” every time they need to reference the current year.
+2011 — Assassinate Mrs. Klebe.
+2012 — Singlehandedly save the entire world from complete and total annihilation and anarchy. Just to spite the Mayans and their crappy calendaring skills.
+2013 — Hold hands with a girl.
+2014 — Get thrown in jail all year for something bodily-fluid related.
+2015 — Star as one of the main characters in either/both Shrek the Seventh or Saw XII (that’s Saw 12 for anyone who doesn’t do Roman Numerals).
+2016-2018 — Power nap.
+2019 — Use my accumulated power, connections, fame, and wealth to really make my kids feel inferior to me.
+2020 — Make nonstop Hugh Downs/Barbara Walters jokes/puns.
So as you can see, things are really looking up for me over the next decade — and if you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll all be around to share in my amazing life (except Mrs. Klebe, who will have met her early demise in an unfortunate “accident” of some sort. Nobody disses Mr. D).
Until next time the voices in my head command me to write, I bid you adieu.
Cheers,
Dustin
That'll be $50, please. No, we don't take Metrocards.
So I’m watching The Forbidden Kingdom on dvd (I lost interest once one of the bad guys started fighting with her hair) and I decided to reflect on how amazing the past year has been for me. Because that’s what I do when I’m bored: I think about how awesome I am. For those of you unfamiliar with my life story (detached enough to not know my history, yet interested enough to read this blog?), a quick year-by-year recap would look like this (all dates are approximate):
+1983 — Born in California (Palm Springs).
+1984 — Learned to pee.
+1985-1987 — Napped.
+1988 — Went to Disneyland for the first time.
+1989 — Cast in first acting role; portrayed Mr. D, a character on the educational children’s show, The Letter People.
+1990 — Got yelled at by my teacher (Mrs. Klebe) for referencing The Letter People on the first day of 1st grade. It dawns on me that she was probably younger then, than I am now. Which just makes her more of a jerk.
+1991 — Started rooting for the Cincinnati Bengals…they wouldn’t post a winning season for the next 15 years.
+1992-1995 — Watched/Quoted The Little Mermaid.
+1996 — Kicked out of then-unknown boy band N*Sync for being “too good looking.”
+1997 — Learned to pee in a bathroom.
+1998 — Didn’t happen. I’m convinced that 1998 was just a figment of my imagination.
+1999 — Saw The Matrix.
+2000 — Fixed the international “Y2K bug” using only a garden hose, some Silly Putty, and the color cerulean.
+2001 — Fixed the less-popular “Y2K1 bug,” which turned out not be a bug at all, just a crappy VCR.
+2002 — Graduated…kind of (can’t seem to find that diploma anywhere).
+2003-2005 — Mostly blacked out.
+2006 — Graduated…kind of (I don’t know if it counts as graduating if no one outside of Westerville, OH has ever heard of your college).
+2007 — Did some “real world.” Didn’t like it.
+2008 — Fined for peeing.
+2009 — Fined for spitting.
And there you have it. My quarter-century of existence reduced to a few fragmented sentences and a couple heavily-misused mathematical symbols. That’s what a $30K-per-year private college education gets you, apparently. However, all you Dustin Fans out there needn’t worry, the story doesn’t end here, it only gets more exciting! Don’t believe me? It’s probably because I’m lying! No but really, here’s a look at some of the amazing and exciting things I have planned for the next several years of my life:
+2010 — Figure out some sort of shortened slang for the new year since we can’t say “Oh-Nine” to mean ’09 anymore. Nobody wants to go around saying “Twenty-Ten” every time they need to reference the current year.
+2011 — Assassinate Mrs. Klebe.
+2012 — Singlehandedly save the entire world from complete and total annihilation and anarchy. Just to spite the Mayans and their crappy calendaring skills.
+2013 — Hold hands with a girl.
+2014 — Get thrown in jail all year for something bodily-fluid related.
+2015 — Star as one of the main characters in either/both Shrek the Seventh or Saw XII (that’s Saw 12 for anyone who doesn’t do Roman Numerals).
+2016-2018 — Power nap.
+2019 — Use my accumulated power, connections, fame, and wealth to really make my kids feel inferior to me.
+2020 — Make nonstop Hugh Downs/Barbara Walters jokes/puns.
So as you can see, things are really looking up for me over the next decade — and if you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll all be around to share in my amazing life (except Mrs. Klebe, who will have met her early demise in an unfortunate “accident” of some sort. Nobody disses Mr. D).
Until next time the voices in my head command me to write, I bid you adieu.
Cheers,
Dustin
That'll be $50, please. No, we don't take Metrocards.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Who Cares About '08: Oct, Nov, Dec
In the thrilling conclusion of my year in review, we see what fascinating things took place in the final three months of 1908. Thrilling.
+1908 Year in Review, Part 4 of 4+
October:
5 – Bulgaria declares its independence from the Ottoman Empire; the Ottoman Empire says to a trusted advisor, “Oh, they’ll be back. Just you wait and see. A few days on their own and they’ll be begging me to take them back.”
14 – The Chicago Cubs win The World Series. After the win, Cubs’ manager and first-base coach Frank Chance is quoted at a press conference saying, “I think this is the start of many, many World Series’ wins for the Cubs — The Frank Chance Era of Greatness, if you will — and 100 years from now I think people are going to look back and say, ‘Wow, that Frank Chance really started something legendary. I’d love to run into him on the street and tell him exactly what I think of the path he started this Cubs’ franchise down.’ So to all Cubs fans past and present, let me just say ‘You’re welcome’ in advance and that we’re all gonna get exactly what we deserve. That’s the Frank Chance guarantee.”
Frank Chance says, "Only YOU can prevent National Championships for the Chicago Cubs." A slogan taken far too literally amongst Cubs' fans.
November:
3 – U.S. presidential election: Republican William Howard Taft defeats Democrat William Jennings Bryan, becoming the first and last set of presidential debates to promise “Willy on Willy action” to horrified-but-curious potential voters.
13 – Andrew Fisher becomes the fifth Prime Minister of Australia, having won the title in traditional Australian fashion: getting lowest in the Official Prime Minister Limbo Challenge.
This is the guy who won second place...congrats on being Vice Prime Minister of Australia!
December:
2 – Child Emperor Pu Yi ascends the Chinese throne at age 2 — immediately has an extramarital affair with an intern, starts supplying weapons to Darfur, and begins to irreversibly pollute the atmosphere around Beijing. Thus the phrase “The Terrible Twos” is coined.
17 – The Converse Rubber Shoe Company is formed in Malden, Massachusetts. The company’s slogan “Progress? What progress? Our shoes are just fine the way they are and we’ll NEVER change them. So there,” turns out to be shockingly accurate.
25 – In a press conference, Jesus Christ is quoted as saying, “Eh, this Santa Claus guy is pretty new to the scene, but I’m not really worried about him. A little competition is healthy, but people would have to be downright idiotic to believe in him over me. What, are people going to replace the ‘Christ’ in Christmas with an ‘X’ or something? Don’t be ridiculous, give people a little credit for being smart enough to know the difference between a ludicrous child’s story and the savior of all mankind.”
31 – A pair of New Year’s Eve partygoers comment to each other, “Oh thank God this will be the last year for those ridiculously tacky 1909 glasses where the 9’s are the eyes. Now we’ll never have to see those eyesores again.”
“Well, there’s still the 2000’s, they could use the 0’s” replied the friend.
“True, but by then I’m sure all the imbeciles who fancy those things will have long since been removed from the gene pool due to their stupidity.”
“Ah yes, I’m sure you’re right. Now let’s party like it’s 1909!”
Sir Elton John says, "I don't see anything tacky about those New Year's Eve glasses at all!!" So there you go.
That's it for now, let's march bravely forward into the new year...and be sure to tune in next year for a review of 1909! It's promises to be...outdated.
God bless,
Dustin
+1908 Year in Review, Part 4 of 4+
October:
5 – Bulgaria declares its independence from the Ottoman Empire; the Ottoman Empire says to a trusted advisor, “Oh, they’ll be back. Just you wait and see. A few days on their own and they’ll be begging me to take them back.”
14 – The Chicago Cubs win The World Series. After the win, Cubs’ manager and first-base coach Frank Chance is quoted at a press conference saying, “I think this is the start of many, many World Series’ wins for the Cubs — The Frank Chance Era of Greatness, if you will — and 100 years from now I think people are going to look back and say, ‘Wow, that Frank Chance really started something legendary. I’d love to run into him on the street and tell him exactly what I think of the path he started this Cubs’ franchise down.’ So to all Cubs fans past and present, let me just say ‘You’re welcome’ in advance and that we’re all gonna get exactly what we deserve. That’s the Frank Chance guarantee.”
Frank Chance says, "Only YOU can prevent National Championships for the Chicago Cubs." A slogan taken far too literally amongst Cubs' fans.
November:
3 – U.S. presidential election: Republican William Howard Taft defeats Democrat William Jennings Bryan, becoming the first and last set of presidential debates to promise “Willy on Willy action” to horrified-but-curious potential voters.
13 – Andrew Fisher becomes the fifth Prime Minister of Australia, having won the title in traditional Australian fashion: getting lowest in the Official Prime Minister Limbo Challenge.
This is the guy who won second place...congrats on being Vice Prime Minister of Australia!
December:
2 – Child Emperor Pu Yi ascends the Chinese throne at age 2 — immediately has an extramarital affair with an intern, starts supplying weapons to Darfur, and begins to irreversibly pollute the atmosphere around Beijing. Thus the phrase “The Terrible Twos” is coined.
17 – The Converse Rubber Shoe Company is formed in Malden, Massachusetts. The company’s slogan “Progress? What progress? Our shoes are just fine the way they are and we’ll NEVER change them. So there,” turns out to be shockingly accurate.
25 – In a press conference, Jesus Christ is quoted as saying, “Eh, this Santa Claus guy is pretty new to the scene, but I’m not really worried about him. A little competition is healthy, but people would have to be downright idiotic to believe in him over me. What, are people going to replace the ‘Christ’ in Christmas with an ‘X’ or something? Don’t be ridiculous, give people a little credit for being smart enough to know the difference between a ludicrous child’s story and the savior of all mankind.”
31 – A pair of New Year’s Eve partygoers comment to each other, “Oh thank God this will be the last year for those ridiculously tacky 1909 glasses where the 9’s are the eyes. Now we’ll never have to see those eyesores again.”
“Well, there’s still the 2000’s, they could use the 0’s” replied the friend.
“True, but by then I’m sure all the imbeciles who fancy those things will have long since been removed from the gene pool due to their stupidity.”
“Ah yes, I’m sure you’re right. Now let’s party like it’s 1909!”
Sir Elton John says, "I don't see anything tacky about those New Year's Eve glasses at all!!" So there you go.
That's it for now, let's march bravely forward into the new year...and be sure to tune in next year for a review of 1909! It's promises to be...outdated.
God bless,
Dustin
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