Blogger?! I don't even KNOW her!

Movin' On Up!

2009-10-27T11:31:00.000-07:00

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/

Poor Excuse

2009-07-31T11:41:00.000-07:00

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

An Apology From Mark Cuban

2009-05-12T13:20:00.000-07:00

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."

Today’s Top Ten Twilight Teachings

2009-05-01T19:40:00.000-07:00

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."

No One in the Cyrus Family is Even Remotely Attractive

2009-04-27T12:35:00.000-07:00

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

Report: James, Williams & Literacy Lead Cavs to Big W Against Pistons

2009-04-22T21:16:00.000-07:00

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.

Can You Smell BMS? (Dustin's Summer Movie Preview '09)

2009-04-21T22:50:00.000-07:00

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

I Need a Desk (and by “Desk” I Mean Job)

2009-04-19T23:46:00.000-07:00

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.

Being Really, Really Productive, You Guys

2009-04-08T23:44:00.000-07:00

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 often ~~ruin~~ 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 the ~~least 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 of ~~suckers~~ 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

Writing Blogs (Like a Boss)

2009-04-07T12:46:00.000-07:00

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).

Supermarket Sweep Style

2009-03-24T00:13:00.000-07:00

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 to ~~assassinate 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 regularly ~~get 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

Twitter?! I Don’t Even KNOW Her!

2009-03-12T22:41:00.000-07:00

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!

The 2009 Dustins

2009-02-24T01:49:00.000-08:00

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]

That Time of the Month

2009-02-21T00:45:00.000-08:00

...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:

“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

The Steelers Suck (And You Can, Too!)

2009-01-27T00:18:00.000-08:00

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: Year Two: The Journey Towards Lame: Special Colon Edition: With Bonus Colons

2009-01-24T01:21:00.001-08:00

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

It Costs $50 to Spit in New York City

2009-01-14T01:13:00.000-08:00

…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.

Who Cares About '08: Oct, Nov, Dec

2009-01-11T22:56:00.000-08:00

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

Who Cares About '08: July, Aug, Sept

2009-01-10T22:17:00.000-08:00

Part 3 of 4 in my look back at the year that was 1908. The year 2008? That's so yesterday. 1908 is the new black.

1908 Year in Review:
July:
1 – “Damn, I’m late for work” is yelled approximately 75,374,081 times at various housewives around the nation, as if it was their fault. In an unrelated story, 75,374,081 housewives mysteriously developed a headache late that night, right about the time their spouses attempted to initiate coitus.
3 –Major Ahmed Niyazi, with 200 followers, begins an open revolution by defecting from the 3rd Army Corps in Macedonia, decamping into the hill country. The “Niyazi’s” as they were known, would spend the rest of their campaign futilely explaining to people across the globe how they were “different and totally unaffiliated with those douchebags from Germany.”
4 – Fireworks Store senses danger, hops into a nearby telephone booth, removes glasses, and emerges as Fireworks Superstore.
6 – Robert Peary sets sail for the North Pole, only to find “Freddie wuz here” written all over it in sharpie.

The North Pole: Cool weather, cheap haircuts.

August:
24 – After an intense power struggle, Sultan Abd al-Aziz IV of Morocco is deposed, and is succeeded by his brother Abd al-Hafiz. Onlookers knew the battle was over once the elder brother finally got his sibling in a headlock and administered the “Royal Noogie of Deposition.”

This is actually a preferable alternative to the "Political Revolution Wedgie" often used in South America.

September:
8 – The Danish minister of Justice, Peter Adler Alberti, is revealed to be an embezzler — but only after Shaggy and Fred made their incorrect guesses as to who The Embezzler was beforehand.
17 – In Ft. Myer, Virginia, Thomas Selfridge becomes the first person to die in an airplane crash. Thomas would exact his revenge on the pilot, Orville Wright, by forever cursing all who flew to sit through the monotonously boring “stewardesses’ safety brochure speech” before they were allowed to take off.
27 – Henry Ford produces his first Model T automobile. Moments later, Ford invents the first pair of fuzzy dice.

Henry & Mrs. Ford at the first and last themed Christmas party they'd be invited to.

Not bored yet? Then come back tomorrow for the thrilling conclusion to the best of 1908! It'll be more fun than the bubonic plague!

Much love,
Dustin

Who Cares About '08: April, May, June

2009-01-10T02:12:00.000-08:00

!Hõla niños! Back with another installment of the año in review...but decided that since 2008 was lame, I'm gonna turn my insightful eye back on the year 1908, recapping all the important things that happened in that epic year. Enjoy.

+The 1908 Year in Review+
April:
20 – Sunshine Train Disaster: Two trains collide in Melbourne, Australia, killing 44 and injuring 400. A massive candlelight vigil is held to remember the victims, but quickly evolves into Australia’s second largest barbeque.
21 – Frederick Cook claims to have reached the North Pole on this date. He then claims to have invented the internet; a tactic that would later be copied by many other lame middle-aged men looking to give their life some meaning.
24 – The seventh deadliest tornado in US history strikes the towns of Pine, Louisiana and Purvis, Mississippi, killing 143 people and injuring 770. But the real controversy would be how the tornado was ranked sixth in the Coaches’ and AP polls, leading the nation to once again question the accuracy of the current ranking systems and instead demand an eight-tornado playoff at the end of the season.

The seventh-ranked tornado, just prior to claiming it should be ranked sixth, and that it wanted to take on USC in the Rose Bowl.

May:
10 – Mother’s Day is observed for the first time at Andrew’s Methodist Church in Grafton, West Virginia. Prior to that, the congregation’s mothers were only acknowledged during the annual “Maybe My Mom’s a Witch” Potluck/Barbeque.
28 – Ian Fleming, author of the famed James Bond series is born in England. His British nanny is instructed that the child is to be shaken, not stirred.

Even at a young age, Fleming wastes no time in developing his famous fictitious spy character. This is right before he shot the recess monitor with his 9mm pistol.

June:
Everybody just took a big o’l nap, on account of how “powerful warm” it was. Several women in and around the Alabama/Georgia/Louisiana areas publicly declared to be suffering from “the vapors.” Their collective self-diagnosis was later proven by a team of neurosurgeons to just to be a “lame attempt at flirting with that Johnson boy” who lives “down the road a spell.”

This man won both best and worst dressed of 1908. He also might be a young Colonel Sanders.

Ok, I'm off to dreamland, another three months in review to come tomorrow. Be there! ...Or don't be there. Those are pretty much your two main options.

Ciao,
Dustin

Who Cares About '08 : Jan, Feb, & Mar

2009-01-09T01:42:00.001-08:00

Salutations, world!

As you may have surmised, I have been busy something fierce the past few weeks, but it’s ok because I’m here now with the obligatory “Year in Review” article that all bloggers/families/missionaries/inmates are required to write. SO you’re wondering, what all happened in ’08 that was worth remembering? Fret no longer, true believers, I’m here to tell you about each and every discovery/accomplishment of note that took place in ’08. Let the reviewing begin!

…Oh, there’s just one minor thing to note…since 2008 has already been year-in-reviewed up the wazoo, I thought I’d put a little tweak on things and do my year-in-review on the year 1908. I’m sure it’s just as relevant.

January 1908:
1 – A ball signifying New Year’s Day drops in NYC’s Times Square for the first time. Killing 19 people and injuring several others. In future years, a light-up sign of the current year would be put at the base of the ball to avoid a repeat massacre.
12 – The first long distance radio message is sent from the Eiffel Tower. The radio message encourages the recipients to “stick around” for Bob & Tom in the Morning Zoo,” and assured them that France would be “right back with the best hits from the 70’s, 80’s, 90’s and today.” The transmission is followed by 94 minutes of nonstop mortgage refinancing commercials.
13 – A fire at Rhoads Opera House in Boyertown, Pennsylvania, kills 170 people. The tragedy is a catalyst for stricter fire safety laws nationwide; specifically the now-famous “Don’t Start Fires in Opera Houses” Law of Pennsylvania.
21 – New York City passes the Sullivan Ordinance, making it illegal for women to smoke in public. However the law also cites an exception for women who are only “smokin’ hot.”

I'm sorry miss, but you're under arrest, you're gonna have to come with me. ...What's that? What do you mean you have your own handcuffs and you don't need mine? ...I didn't realize pink and fuzzy was police issue 'round these parts.

February:
1 – King Carlos I and Infate Luis Filipe are shot dead in Lisbon, deeply damaging Lisbon’s newly-instated “Come to Lisbon, You Won’t Get Shot! Especially if You’re a Foreign Dignitary!” Tourism campaign.
11 – Australia regains The Ashes (a hotly sought-after trophy) with a 308-run cricket victory over England. That victory becomes the last thing Australia would do better than England for the next 100 years.
12 – The first “Around the World Car Race” begins. Followed closely by the first “Around the Slow Driver in the Fast Lane Middle Finger.”
18 – Japanese immigration to the USA is officially forbidden — this law is quickly lifted once US officials realize that Speed Racer is only a cartoon, and poses no real threat aside from early-onset epilepsy.

Go Speed Racer, Go! ...No, really, go...you're not allowed in America anymore.

March:
4 – The Collinwood Schools Fire, near Cleveland, Ohio, kills 174 people: 150 students; 23 teachers, faculty and staff; and “that creepy guy in the van by the playground.”
27 – The first overseas Boy Scout troop is formed in Gibraltar, giving new meaning to the phrase “mounting the rock of Gibraltar" and creating the first-ever merit badge for Fortress Construction & Fortification.

Hell of a commute to scout meetings, but easily the safest troop meeting spot in the world.

Ok gang, that's it for now, be sure to check back tomorrow for another season's worth of updates from the year that was 1908! I know I will!

Cheers,
Dustin

Mobile Blog: I Need to Join AA...

2008-12-24T10:50:00.000-08:00

well, it's official: after the morning I had today, I can tell you without a doubt that I need to join AA.

that is, American Airlines' official fan club! because let me tell you how much they rock! for starters, their planes are guaranteed to fly some of your luggage to where you need to go, just as soon as they can get around to it. do you need them to fly you somewhere? well chum, today is your lucky day, because if you need flown someplace, AA will send two planes to fly you! the first one to show you how special you are to them as a client by having it show up 40 minutes after your scheduled departure time, then they'll ship that plane off for "maintenence." and just as soon as you can say "I paid $500 for this?", they'll have your second plane there, lickety split, barely an hour after the first one left! what service! and are you tired of not paying fifteen US dollars to check your bags? well fret no more, friend, because AA has that covered, too! every time you want to pay $15 for AA to lose your bags, they will! count on it! how about seats so small that Gary Coleman wouldn't be able to fit? no worries there, 'cause the second you plop down on that plush 1/8 inch of cushioning that covers every single barely-reclining AA chair, you won't feel like you're in America, you'll feel like you're in the magical land of Oz, and it's your turn to be the mayor of Munchkinland! hope you brought your lollipop guild!

don't pinch yourself, you're not dreaming, your just flying American Airlines: everything purgatory was desinged to be and more!

also, I need to join Alcoholics Anonymous. Merry Christmas Eve.

Mucho holiday love,
Dustin

Mobile Blog: Live from the 405 (That Wasn't Meant to Rhyme)

2008-12-17T17:12:00.000-08:00

I had a really great idea the other day. And like most of my great ideas, it turned out to be someone else's idea that I intend to take full credit for. Dennis and Kate Hodges recently had a son named Darren, and when Kate went into labor, she started blogging about it from her iPhone, with pictures and everything (that's less gross than it sounds). I believe her labor process took about 9 hours or so. Since that's about the same amount of time I spend on the 405 in any given day, I thought I would follow Kate and Dennis' lead. So I got a girl pregnant and now I'm being sued for something involving the large jars of military-grade chlorophorm in my garage. No but really, I'm gonna start spicing up my blog life with mobile blogs! Like this one! Hooray!

Ok, traffic wasn't bad enough today, so now I'm already at work and it's time to slam some Chipotle before I head in.

Cheers,
Dustin

Netflix VS. Blockbuster Online

2008-11-19T15:26:00.000-08:00

I was going to write a blog this afternoon before work. But before I started, I was gonna sign up for netflix real quick just so I could get a couple movies sent that I've been meaning to see.

Hours later, my blockbuser online queue is at 348 moves.

Whoops.

Cheers,
Dustin

California: Even our cloudy days are beautiful. These were the last clouds I've seen since August.

Scott Bakula No Longer Hoards the Word "Quantum"

2008-11-14T02:29:00.000-08:00

In what experts and critics around the globe are referring to as “Friday,” the hype for this season’s biggest British Secret Agent action/drama finally culminates into an explosion of Michael-Bay-esque proportions. Tomorrow/today (we need to find a better word for that part of the night where it’s technically the next morning, but you haven’t gone to sleep yet and don’t plan to for awhile, so it feels odd to refer to it as “today” when you plan on taking a 7-9 hour nap before beginning the rest of your “today.” Somebody work on that word and get back to me) marks the release of the only James Bond sequel I’ve ever cared about: Quantum of Solace. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Bond franchise, it’s the canon of movies that started out as an elaborate series of practical jokes that Sean Connery was playing on the rest of the world; then during the 70’s transformed into something fun to watch while on acid (but really, what wasn’t in the 70s?); then in the 90’s became the basis for a very popular video game for the N64 that let you act out a day in the life of Pierce Brosnan; and then in the modern era, became the final resting place of Halle Berry’s esteemed acting career. However, this franchise’s fall into mediocrity angered the god of Bullets, Cars and Explosions: Daniel Craig, and he saw fit to step down from his throne high atop Mount Aston-Martin and personally create a miracle that would set the bar for all other action movies of the time. This blessing not-so in disguise (grossing almost $600 million dollars worldwide) was called Casino Royale. And it was very good. But just as God saw fit to give us the New Testament after he saw how well the Old Testament was selling overseas and on dvd, so too has Daniel Craig decided to bless us with another 120 minutes of his soulful blue eyes looking unflinchingly into the camera whilst babes and buildings buckle in the background (albeit for very different reasons). May the world rejoice. My only complaints with this movie are that I can’t see the 12:01 showing with Bond-incarnate and former roommate, Nick Caruso (shaken, not stirred); and that I can’t join the British Secret Service because Mi6 only accepts applicants who have “British citizenship,” whatever the hell that means. Oh well.

In other news, I’m considering spending large amounts of money that I don’t have on some things that I don’t need — rather than save it or spend it on things I do need (food, rent, gas, Christmas presents for my family, etc.). These purchases include (in this order):
+a PS3
+a new guitar
+a new iPhone
+a new digital camera
+a new shaver
…and probably other things that I don’t need, but have forgotten what they are for the moment — I’ll likely remember what these things are the next time TV tells me.

Now here’s a quick breakdown of why I need these things I don’t need, and feel free to hook a brother up with any advice on how to acquire them. Or if you’d prefer to just write me a check for some or all of the money I’d need to buy these things, that’s cool too.

=PS3: I gave up my PS2 (along with my PS1, Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis, 3DO, Atari, my chessboard and my television) when I left Ohio for LA in order to remove the unnecessary distraction from my life so I could focus on rebuilding myself out here and finding a job and whatnot. But that was almost a year ago, and I miss having superheroes beat the crap out of each other for my entertainment. It’s time for a relapse.

=New guitar: I’ve been pretty well-behaved as far as not buying a new guitar whenever the whim struck me, but my uncle and I were talking music last time we were hanging out, and he recently purchased the exact kind of guitar I was looking to own. His buddy at a local Palm Springs music store might even be able to get me a deal. Good stuff.

=New iPhone: I like the way the white ones look. Real shiny.

=New digital camera: This one’s been a long time in the making, since I’ve had my old digital camera since back before they invented color photography. Also it would be nice to have something with a slightly higher megapixel count (mostly because whenever I say “megapixel” it makes me think of some sort of spandex-clad superheroine. And superheroes kick ass. And the female ones tend to be really hot).

=New shaver: I just need to man up and get something more top of the line — anyone who shaves as rarely as I do shouldn’t have to put more than a couple minutes into it, and I can no longer tolerate a shaver that’s just trying to sandbag me all the time.

Ok, time for me to go and get some of that sleep everyone keeps talking about. Keep hope alive.

Cheers,
Dustin

If looks could kill...although I imagine he'll stick mainly to using bullets to kill in the new movie. Either way, it's gonna be a hell of a body count.

Apparently “Scampi” Translates into “Massive Headache”

2008-11-11T00:08:00.000-08:00

This time of year brings about a special holiday that holds a very special place in my heart. It’s an occasion that I love to share with family, friends and loved ones. It’s the one holiday we can all rally behind regardless of race, gender or creed. I am speaking, of course, about Endless Shrimp Fest, available only at Red Lobster. I arrived at the local Red Lobster with my two roommates in tow (both forced to participate against their will to some degree). Upon entering the fine dining seafood establishment, we were informed that there would be a 25 minute wait. But in the spirit of Endless Shrimp Fest, I was able to perform an ESF miracle and get us a table mere moments after we’d put our name on the list. We sat down at our table at approximately 7:10pm, PST. At 8:44pm, the three of us had consumed 318 various varieties of shrimp, three fully-loaded baked potatoes, two salads, and three baskets of garlic cheese rolls. Somehow we did this without anyone puking or having to go to the ER. For those of you keeping score at home, the individual breakdown was as follows:

Aaron — 101 shrimp, one loaded baked potato, one salad, several garlic-cheese rolls
Jason — 102 shrimp, one loaded baked potato, several garlic-cheese rolls
Dustin — 115 shrimp, one loaded baked potato, one salad (with bleu cheese dressing), one side of rice pilaf, several garlic-cheese rolls

There are equal parts pride and shame that sweep over you after performing such a feat of stomach-expanding magnitude. I’m particularly proud of myself for locking down the MVP award for the night’s activities, but the roomies should get honorable mention for really digging deep and coming through when it counted most. You learn a lot about yourself after consuming 115 lemon-butter soaked shellfish. Maybe a little too much about yourself. Personal, esoteric discoveries aside, I also discovered that shrimp scampi start to give you a wicked headache right around number 65. A headache that won’t go away for three hours (and counting). But it’s so worth it…when you get in that zone — the “Shrimper’s High” as I like to call it — all you can do is focus your energy on the next batch of hand-breaded shrimp and the accompanying cocktail sauce. On the upside, I believe that because of this event, I now have the power to breathe underwater indefinitely. So that’s a bonus.

I wrote and recorded a new song today on my Mac. About halfway through this process I realized that the song I was writing and recording was actually a very famous Beatles song. This didn’t stop me from finishing the recording, just in the same way it won’t stop me from taking credit for writing the song on the off chance I can find someone to play it for who’s never heard of The Beatles.

On the hard-drugs front, I’m watching Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas right now, and I’m not sure how I feel about the movie in general, aside from it confirms my belief that I would not enjoy doing drugs of any sort. I’ll stick to classy self-medication like doing shots of Nyquil in the bathroom of my local CVS. I’m kidding, Mom (because I know you read this and take everything too literally for my own good).

Happy shrimping,
Dustin

P.S. I will pay ten American dollars to anyone who can give me a legitimate reason why the world needs a "Best of Hilary Duff" album. There's an extra five euros in it for you if you can tell me how it must make her feel to have already accomplished the "best" of her life's work by age 21. And does that work include anything from her days as Lizzie McGuire? Methinks not.

A Ton of Hotties Live in Tiny, Rural Kansas Cities

2008-11-05T16:01:00.000-08:00

I’m celebrating Obama’s overwhelming presidential victory in the same way I celebrate all political victories: doing my laundry and watching Smallville on dvd while eating Thai food. I don’t make fun of America’s lame traditions (voting, persecuting minorities), so don’t make fun of mine.

So nevermind why, but earlier today I was googling Jonathon Taylor Thomas (of Home Improvement and Lion King fame) and as I was doing so, I accidentally typed his first name as Jonathor. Obviously this was a typo, but it did open my eyes to an awesome name for my firstborn son. Jonathor sounds like it could be something from a Greek war story or something. I definitely think that it’s the kind of name that will help my son gain acceptance from the world, and definitely not the kind of name that will perpetually get his ass kicked by his peers from ages 4-27. This name joins the list of baby names I’ve compiled over the years that include (but aren’t limited to) Dustin Jr., Li’l Dustin, The Human Torch, Barack, Lion-O, Dustin 3 (pronounced Dustin Three, not Dustin the Third), Dustin III (pronounced Dustin the Third), Dustin-Dustin, and DJ Dizzy D-Town with D1 Steak Sauce. I’m sure my future wife won’t mind any of those boy-names, especially since I’m giving her my permission to name all of our girls Sally Jesse Raphael.

-The Recession is in Session-
Experts agree that we’re in some sort of something called a “recession.” My vocabulary is pretty much to limited to swear words, double entendres and the phrase “that’s what she said,” so I thought I’d break down this new word for everyone so that we can all learn together.

The word recession is obviously made up of two words: recess and ingression.
>Recess, meaning to go and play on the playground for about 15 minutes and throw rocks at girls while simultaneously trying to avoid being infected by their cootees.
>Ingression, meaning when a planet moves into the next sign of the zodiac, coinciding with changes in moods and spheres. Unless of course you’re not a new-age, crystal-loving nutjob, in which case this word doesn’t exist. For all you non-nutjobs out there, we’ll just say that this word means “s’mores.”

Given these definitions, we can infer that the word recession means 15 minutes of s’mores. That was easy to figure out, but what I can’t figure out is why all these financial people and business folks are so worked up about getting an extra 15 minutes of s’mores. Oh well, I guess some mysteries weren’t meant to be solved.

-Fantasy Updates-
League 1: The Left Coast Losers took another one on the chin this week, dropping to 3-6 on the season, but Rivers is back from his bye week, so hopefully we’re back on track.

League 2: With six of my twelve players on bye this week (poor planning on my part), The Los Angeles Larcenists still have empty slots at QB and RB that need to be filled before Sunday. Here’s hoping the waiver wire is kind to me on Thursday so I can improve my 6-3 record.

League 3: Frodo’s Frozen Brogurt is stuck at 2-6-1, but we’re at full strength and we’re ready to pounce upon Matt Fullen’s team Megatron.

Ok team, I’ve got laundry-folding and Cavs-cheering to do (tip off at 5pm, PST). Catch you on the flip side, as the cool kids say.

Cheers,
Dustin
I don't care much for candy, but I still got plenty of sugar this Halloween...wink.

One-Man Biker Gang

2008-10-27T23:14:00.000-07:00

Blogs are stupid. Oh yeah? Well, you’re stupid. So there.

If you need more proof than that to convince you of how idiotic the concept of blogging is, then your name might be Miss Teen Louisiana. However, if you insist on subjecting yourself to the biased and unedited thoughts of others in lieu of forming your own thoughts about things, here are two blogs that I recommend:

http://web.mac.com/jheveron — This is my brother’s freshly started blog. My guess is that (like most of his projects) he will work at this until he loses interest or something shiny catches his eye. But maybe if we can get enough people reading, he’ll stick to it more loyally than his first three colleges.

http://www.holyjuan.com — This blog is that of a pretty good friend of mine, who I believe wants to remain mildly nameless. His stuff is good, it’s funny, and it’s more frequently posted than mine. My guess is that his readership is large enough not to need the meager boost that this post will give him, but gosh darnit, it just feels right to give homeboy some props. Consider yourself propped, Holy Juan.

Fantasy Corner: I kicked some major ass in all my leagues this week, putting me at 3-5 in the Cowtown League; 6-2 in the XMFFFL, and an embarrassing 2-5-1 in the Bros and Hos League. Hopefully I can keep my win streak alive until Tony Romo heals completely.

Also, for those of you who remember this blog, the very same Olympic athlete that I mentioned in the latter half of my post must’ve been googling herself recently (as I often do myself…don’t judge me) and found my post, then added me on facebook. This will go down as the single greatest moment in my life. Awesome.

My advice for the week:
+Read my bro’s blog
+Don’t see Eagle Eye (sober)
+See Pride & Glory (don’t believe the reviews, it’s good)
+Get out of the house every once in awhile
+Say hello to your mother for me

Cheers,
Dustin

You don't mess with me when I'm on my hog. Very badass.

Rock Out with Your Barack Out

2008-10-03T00:07:00.000-07:00

“Blah blah blah, recession, blah blah, bailout, blah debates, blah blah, crackwhore.” That’s a recent quote from Vice Presidential candidate Joe Blahden commenting on one of his opponents, Sen. John McBlah. Politics are lame, politicians are uncool. But mostly I’m just jealous that there are people out there getting paid big money to fabricate half-truths and rewrite history to make themselves look better and I’m not one of them. And all that cynicism and negativity was BEFORE I realized that the debates are preempting a new episode of The Office. Imagine how cheery I felt after not getting my Dwight fix. Luckily, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia is a new one tonight, so maybe they’ll save me.

-Quarter-season FFL Updates-
Left Coast Losers: after getting shafted on losses of less than 1.8pts, the Losers live up to their name and drop to a 1-3 W-L record. However, it was a massive day of trades as I swapped out pretty much the entire team for a collection of guys that should be able to perform better in the long run.

Los Angeles Larcenists: Things are shaping up a little better for this team, as we’re at 3-1 so far — hopefully we’ll keep going strong.

Frodo’s Frozen Brogurt: I can’t figure out why exactly, but this team is getting dominated week after week, and I’m pretty much the league bitch at this point. With both of my starting quarterbacks on bye this week, it looks like it’s gonna be more of the same. I’m just glad this team is in the league where we play for pride and not money, since I can afford to lose pride…money, not so much.

-San Diego SuperChargers-
If you haven’t had a second to peruse my latest picture albums, I had a pretty baller trip to San Diego last week to see THE Brett Favre and his new green team of costars fall to San Diego’s hot-footed #21 and the unstoppable offense of the Chargers. As if seats just a few rows off goal line weren’t enough to get excited about, Mr. Thomas Murray (personal friend and benefactor for all Charger-related endeavors) even hooked it up so we could score a trip to the broadcast booth and spend a couple quarters hanging with Marv Albert and Dennis Green (subbing for my lifelong idol, Boomer Esiason). Basically I don’t have a better word than “awesome” to describe this day and event, so I’ll just leave it at that. It was awesome. And Tom Murray, wherever you are, I owe you one. Big time.

-The End is Not the End…It’s Just the Beginning-
House of Heroes has a new album out called The End is Not the End. I have no higher endorsement for any band or any music anywhere than for these guys and their latest masterwork. These is something on this album for everyone, but it does it without being the broad, pandering crap that largely dominates the pop charts (I’m looking at you, Katie Perry). This album is Queen’s Night at the Opera for the iPod generation, and anyone who likes great writing, awesome melodies, tight harmonies, purposeful songs, catchy hooks and good, ol’ fashioned, sing-along rock will love this album. It’s 15 tracks for less than $10 at the iTunes store, or you can pick it up from the guys directly at any of their live shows (which are also awesome). They’re touring with pop-punk sensation Relient K for all of October, and you can find more info at www.myspace.com/houseofheroes or www.thehouseofheroes.com — as an added perk of knowing these guys I’ve had an early copy of the album since late last year, and it still barely leaves my CD player, almost one full year later. If you’re really into owning a hard copy of the CD, you can also buy it online at zambooie.com: http://www.zambooie.com/productResultsband.tpl?cart=12200435901506059&bandname=House%20Of%20Heroes&startat=1&directionsort=as&sortfield=band Trust me, you won’t forgive yourself if you don’t pick this one up ASAP.

Ok guys, time to rock out some late night happy hour at McCormick & Schmick’s. It’s time to get tasty.

Cheers,
Dustin

Go Chargers! Buy Barbasol!!

Exposé: Ohio State’s QB Pryor Revealed to Be Michael Vick in Disguise

2008-09-27T15:05:00.001-07:00

Columbus, OH — In a shocking turn of events, true freshman Ohio State quarterback Terrelle Pryor was revealed to actually be recently-incarcerated felon and former Atlanta Falcons quarterback, Michael Vick, in disguise. The revelation came as a huge shock to fans, players, and media alike, and has added yet another scandal to Vick’s already lengthy rap sheet. Pryor/Vick, who started in his first game as OSU’s first-string quarterback Saturday, ran for two touchdowns and threw for a third in their 34-12 victory over the Minnesota Golden Gophers before an observant Ohio State Buckeye student with a scarlet “block O” painted on his chest questioned aloud, “Hey! Isn’t that Michael Vick?” after Pryor removed his helmet on the way to the locker room after the game. Video, fingerprint, and DNA confirmation all corroborated the anonymous student’s accusation. “Well, I’m just flabbergasted,” OSU coach Jim Tressel said of the star athlete who was 6’6” and 235-pounds, despite supposedly being just 18 years old. “Gee willickers,” Tressel added. Other members of the sports community were equally stunned. “I really didn’t recognize him without that goatee and the long hair, but I could totally see it after they showed Pryor’s and Vick’s team photos side-by-side,” said former Miami Dolphins quarterback and current NFL free agent, Marcus Vick, Michael’s younger brother. Upon hearing the news, the Atlanta Police Department immediately checked Vick’s prison cell — only to find several pillows wadded up and covered by a blanket on Vick’s cot, next to a tape recorder playing snoring sounds on a loop. When reached for comment, Atlanta PD Police Chief Richard Pennington replied, "Really? So does this mean I can pick him up in my fantasy league? I really got hosed after [injured New England Patriots quarterback Tom] Brady went out for the season.” Vick was unavailable for comment, but eye-witness accounts say that seconds before he was forcibly shoved into the back seat of a Columbus PD police cruiser, Vick said, “And I would’ve gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for you meddling kids!” referring to the approximately 50,000 Ohio State undergraduate students in attendance at the game. In an unrelated story, an unidentified OSU fan was found mauled to death by what police think was “some sort of feral pitbull” in an alleyway just outside of the Horseshoe, OSU’s football stadium, with only the block-O on his chest still barely recognizable. The investigation into who this male in his early 20’s was, and who would have motivation to attack him, is ongoing.

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 news.”

The 18-year-old star athlete, revealed to actually be the 28-year-old felon on Saturday.

Dustin Does Dallas and the 30-Day Detox

2008-09-16T16:06:00.000-07:00

I’m done apologizing to you ingrates for not having enough time to write, so let’s just leave it at this: if I can find enough time to cram food, sleep, work, social activities and sports into any given day, and there’s any time leftover, then I’ll write. If not, I won’t. The suspense is killing you, I can tell.

Things you should care about this week (in order of importance):
+Dustin’s Fantasy Football Teams (won games in two of my three leagues this week)
+Massive Power Outages in the Columbus, Ohio area
+USC decisively spanking OSU in the City of Angels
+The Return of New TV Shows
+The Death of Golden Grahams
+The National Debt

And here’s why.

The national debt is gross. Debt is the opposite of money. And if I learned one thing in all my years of education, it’s that money is the root of all happiness. Or maybe it was that money can’t buy evil. Either way, I know for certain that you don’t want owe money to the Chinese. It’s science.

Fact Number Two: other than Banana Nut Crunch, Golden Grahams is the greatest cereal of our generation, and yet for some reason, it’s been discontinued. I asked my friend Internet about this in order to find out more information, but other than a vague Wikipedia entry, there’s literally no information about when or why Golden Grahams has gone the way of the buffalo (you get the reference, PxPx-ers?). If you or anyone you know has information about the whereabouts of Golden Grahams, or knowledge of how their demise came out, please hook a brother up. I need to know that they didn’t give their cinnamon-baked-with-a-touch-of-honey life in vain.

A decent percentage of my readership is Ohio-based, so I’m going to try not to harp on this…but I was at The Coliseum (or in the parking lot, rather) for the OSU/USC debacle, and I must say that as a U of M fan (go Wolverines) whose season was over before it even began, it is a small comfort to see that OSU’s season has been similarly destroyed by a loss to USC and a more embarrassing almost-loss to OU. Obviously I would prefer that Michigan was winning, but if that can’t happen, I’ll settle for OSU losing. God bless college rivalry.

And now that I’ve done a sufficient amount of gloating, I wanna switch gears for a second and offer my sincere support to all the lovely folks of Columbus, Ohio who are still without power after the winds of Ike tore through town. And I mean support in the spiritual sense of the word, not the monetary sense, so don’t get too excited. Although, I guess since all of them are without electricity, they can’t really read this, so really I could promise anything and not have to follow through on it. So with that in mind, I hereby swear to give every single person in Columbus, Ohio and its surrounding suburbs a check for $500,000 and a back massage to go along with it. Suck on that philanthropy, Bill Gates! Where you at, son?! You got nothin’ on this charity!

And now, for a quick trip to…Fantasy Football Corner. A chance for you guys to hear about how I’m turning an innocent love of a pro sport into a way to sink several hundred dollars into a collection of loosely-concealed gambling rings.

League 1: The Left Coast Losers — After a disappointing loss in the first week of league play, the Left Coast Losers rallied in week two with a 143-109 victory over former league champions, The Schlitzkrieg (helmed by Mike Ulring). Brandon Marshall wins the MVP of the week award for his 40-point fantasy performance. Our W-L record so far is 1-1

League 2: The Los Angeles Larcenists — Despite a last-minute bye week that negated two of my top starters (Willis McGahee and Andre Johnson), my team overcame a 70-point deficit to win the game 136-134 against The Dakota Sioux (coached by Steve DeWeese, who was actually visiting LA the very weekend our teams played). W-L record is 1-1.

League 3: Frodo’s Frozen Brogurt — As usual, the “Bros and Hos” league that I’m in with my former roommates and their significant others has been less than kind to me, as I got trounced again this week by (former roommate and landlord) Phil Nagy’s team, the Quail Hollow Jumping Cars. The final score for the game was 96-154, putting me at 0-2 for the season thus far.

I see that ESPN360 is about to start, which means I need to shower off the leftover sand that’s clinging to me from my earlier beach trip and get ready to start the night’s activities. Remember, friends don’t let friends root for the Yankees. Also, I might be giving up drinking for 30 days just to say I did it, and it’ll be a nice way to get my tolerance down a little bit before my 25th birthday comes around. I’ll keep you posted on how that goes.

Until then, cheers,
Dustin

Maybe We Should Start Seeing Other People

2008-09-04T13:45:00.000-07:00

Look, we need to talk. I know I’ve been kind of distant these past few weeks, but I’ve just really needed some time to get centered, to readjust — it’s not you, it’s me. Honest. Not that you haven’t been great to me. You’ve always been there for me when I needed you, and I’ll never forget the good times we had. When it’s all said and done, I just really hope that we can still be friends. Maybe you’ll leave a comment about one of my notes, maybe I’ll mention you on occasion in one of my blogs…it’ll be better this way for both of us, I promise. You’ve got a lot of great qualities, and anyone would be lucky to have you — you need to find someone who can take care of you like you need, and treat you how you deserve. You need someone who will blog once every day or two, rather than someone like me who only seems to write when it’s convenient for me, without consideration for your schedule. Ultimately, you deserve the commitment of a writer who can be there for you when I can’t, a blogger who thinks of your needs first, and an author with whom you can really forge a consistent, long term reader relationship. And I just don’t think that’s me. I’m sorry. I’ll still be here, sharing with the world as I have time, but I’m just not in a place where I can commit to consistently writing for you more than 1-3 times per week. I hope you can forgive me.

-Back in Blog-
Ok, so I’ve been MIA for a few weeks — were you really that surprised? The first rule of virtual, blogging life is that it doesn’t take priority over real, actually-happening life. Or sleep. Sleep has become a much higher priority now that I’m out of college and staying up till 3am doesn’t mean I was out partying with friends, it means I probably just stumbled onto a Mythbusters marathon and couldn’t pull myself away from the mystery of the frozen underpants (busted) or the myth of the exploding facial hair (confirmed). However, all this time of being too busy means that I probably have lots of exciting stories and whatnot to discuss (busted), I may have been dating some über hot babes (busted), and that I have probably been spending too much time playing Super Mario Galaxy on my roommate’s Wii (confirmed).

-Tropic Thunderstruck-
What Tropic Thunder lacked in sheer, piss-your-pants hilarity, it made up with in the chemistry of the main characters. It’s rarer than you might think to see comic superstars work together who actually look like they’re having fun. Jack Black, Robert Downey Jr. and comedic-anchor Ben Stiller all performed at the levels of humor you’d expect, but the resulting film is greater than the sum of its A-list parts. Regardless of whether or not it was true, these guys seemed like they really enjoyed working with each other, and that’s plays a lot better to today’s (somewhat) more sophisticated audience than the lame fart jokes and cheap sight gags of some worthless “comedy” like Disaster Movie and its predecessors.

-You Shook Me All Season Long-
Football. College, professional, videogame, fantasy, backyard, etc. Tonight is THE official kickoff of the NFL’s season, which means for the next six months or so, I can have football as often and in as many different ways as I want. This is heaven in HD. And yet for some reason, the Bengals look just as crappy in high definition as they did in regular broadcast. Oh well, I guess DVR can’t fix everything.

-Interstate to Hell-
They did some random construction on the 405 the other day, and as usual, made no effort to tell the beach community residents who have to trudge up and down that accursed freeway to get to and from work…on the upside, I bought a bunch of new CDs that I’ve been meaning to get for a while, so I had plenty of entertainment for the car. The moral of the story? Life’s really not so bad, once you decide as much.

-The Shaver’s Edge-
I’m just gonna put it out there: I need a new electric shaver. The one I currently own is old and dull (sounds like my last relationship — ba-zing!), and since it doesn’t look like I’m gonna get to stop shaving anytime soon, I think it’s only proper that I try and make it as pleasant of an experience as possible. Any suggestions for a brand and/or model to try would be more than welcome.

-Not-So-Dirty Deeds Done Not-So-Dirt Cheap-
For those of you too busy/uninterested to find out on your own, I have once again pulled the ol’ job switcheroo, moving from my current place of employment to a club/restaurant about 100 feet away. It’s called Rush Street, and it’s named/designed after a supposedly swanky part of Chicago (though I’ve yet to confirm this with any Illinois residents). This job lets me use my classic charm and wit to con people into buying superfluous bottles of wine and giving me 20-25% of their meal’s cost. God bless America. If you’re local and want to come visit, it’s in the Culver City part of LA and you can google directions. If you’re not local and want to come visit, you can crash on my couch and I’ll buy you a meal or two. That’s worth the price of a plane ticket, right?

-Hell’s Belles-
Aside from being a great name for an all-female AC/DC tribute band (no offense to the members of AC/DShe), it seems like people in showbiz are finally adopting/acknowledging the femme fatale as a legitimate figure in film and television once again. Obviously this is not a new concept, since the term was coined in a time when sliced bread hadn’t been invented yet, but it seemed like for all the supposed feminism and equality of the 70s, 80s and 90s, our female screen stars mostly reflected traditional and occasionally outdated stereotypes with very few exceptions (I don’t know that G.I. Jane really did equality any favors). But now with megastars (like Angelina Jolie) and average-size stars (like whoever the lady from the Underworld series of movies is) making some real money in Hollywood, it seems to be expanding the industry’s ability to think outside the box and come up with better, more original stories — rather than trying to peddle the same old characters and plot to us over and over again. This is good news for moviegoers the world over, and I just thought I’d share my little observation with you. It also doesn’t hurt that they’re really, really hot.

-For Those About to (Pass the) Rock, We Salute You-
So I’ve never been a Seattle Supersonics (former NBA team) fan, per se, but they deserved better than to be discarded like some clingy girl’s phone number and shipped to Oklahoma City under a new moniker and new management. And as if losing their storied tradition wasn’t enough of a blow, the new Oklahoma team’s mascot/nickname is the Thunder. The Oklahoma City Thunder. Dude, that is awful. It sounds like it should be the nickname for some AAA League Baseball team based in Des Moines, Iowa, not the mascot of a top-tier professional basketball team. We’ve already got the Miami Heat, and we don’t need our NBA games to start sounding like weather forecasts (“Well Stuart, we can expect to see some major Miami Heat roll in this weekend, followed by some weak Thunder out of Oklahoma City. Chance of scattered showers, 60%. Back to you.”). If you all write your local senator, maybe we can get the name changed to something really cool like the “Oklahoma City Dustins.” I mean, out of all the potentially badass mascots/nicknames out there, why go with the Thunder? Just so they can use “Thunderstruck” as their theme song? Anyone that desperate to make an AC/DC reference should probably go outside every once in a while and get a life.

Well gang, it’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock and roll, so I’m gonna head out now and get a head start. See you at the top.

Cheers,
Dustin

P.S. I know this is where the picture usually goes, but...I just wrote two and a half pages of AC/DC puns for you — do you really want a picture to go with all that? My next post will be funnier and shorter, promise.

Phelps, Schmelps — Whatever Happened to the Thorpedo?

2008-08-14T10:56:00.000-07:00

According to most major news sources, Michael Phelps is the greatest swimmer, the greatest athlete, and the greatest human being in the history of the planet. Ever. If Mahatma Ghandi was such a great person, how come he couldn’t break Phelps’ time of 4:07.82 in the 400m individual medley? Nelson Mandela might’ve spent almost 30 years wrongly incarcerated for his beliefs, but did that earn him over 11 gold medals? I don’t think so. Sure, Mother Theresa was a nice lady, but there’s no Olympic event for “World’s Best Nun” — and if there were, Michael Phelps would’ve found a way to win it. They could discover the cure for cancer tomorrow, and no one in the world would care unless Phelps had found it himself after swimming his leg of the 800m freestyle relay. With Phelps drawing so much attention and media coverage that you could practically drown in the flood of water puns (no pun intended?), I decided it would only be fair to spotlight some of America’s unsung heroes in the 29th Olympiad.

-Team USAnonymous-
Today’s unknown hero is Essex Junction, Vermont resident and anchor of the US Women’s Olympic Weightlifting Team: Carissa Gump. At a svelte but sexy 5’1” and 138lbs, Carissa’s favorite TV show is House, her favorite food is fettuccine alfredo, and her favorite husband is her husband, Jason. Carissa’s a decorated collegiate and national champion in her event, and according to the official Team USA website, her signature move is the “clean and jerk” (this “that’s what she said” moment brought to you by NBC’s The Office, new episodes starting this fall. Check your local listings). You’re probably asking yourself right now, “how much less important is Carissa Gump than Michael Phelps?” The answer is: so much less important that the OFFICIAL Olympic website has two entirely different birthdays listed for Carissa’s on her profile page (one says she was born June 23rd, ’82; then two lines further down it says her DOB is August 24th, ’83). Whereas on Phelps’ profile page they have everything so meticulously catalogued that even his English bulldog’s name (Herman) is listed. Come on guys, we sent over 600 athletes to these games, and only one of them is named Phelps. Let’s try and spread the love around a bit more, ok?

-Pineapple Excess-
You’ve heard the story a million times: a much-hyped movie that starts out looking great in the trailer and gets a lot of good release buzz, then proceeds to provide 90 seconds of laughter instead of 90 minutes’ worth, and you leave the theater feeling disappointed, let down and — worst of all — sober. Though I’ve never smoked the ol’ wacky weed myself, going to college still gave me a pretty good gauge on movies that are supposed to “be pretty funny when you’re high,” and this was definitely not one of them. It was bad, it was boring — and though I’ve always thought Seth Rogen (or Hulk Rogen as I like to call him) was overrated since his Knocked Up days, this was even worse. The sole point of hilarity in this movie was Danny McBride, who provides some awesome comic relief that will hopefully boost viewership for his forthcoming pilot on HBO (I’ve seen the pre-air cut of the pilot, and it’s amazing. American TV is in for a treat).

Call me a jerk, call me unsportsmanlike, call me a racist — but I’m off to root for USA (and against China) with every fiber of my being. Me no likey communism.

Cheers,
Dustin

Carissa Gump: No pain, no vein.

Sportsbrah

2008-08-07T10:35:00.000-07:00

Thursday morning at 9:13am; I found myself reading a web-based scan of a book called The Miscellaneous and Posthumous Works of Henry Thomas Buckle. It was at that moment that I realized there might be a better way to spend my day off than reading the literary works of someone whose material wasn’t written until after his death. So here I am, twelve minutes and one bowl of Banana Nut Crunch later, using my time and talents to write down my thoughts for you (although truthfully, I probably won’t write my best works until after I die. Henry Thomas and I have a lot in common).

-They Say It’s Your Birthday-
Yesterday’s was my Dad’s birthday, and though I’m bummed I couldn’t celebrate it with him in person, I spent a while on the phone with him last night, and it sounds like he had an awesome time despite my absence (or perhaps directly related to that. Kidding). Which brings me to my next point: HAPPY FREAKIN’ BIRTHDAY, DAD!!! As if 24 years of listening to me wax on about myself wasn’t enough, surely someone who was born the same year “Rock Around the Clock” was the top hit single deserves a day to just take it easy and be thankful for his life. I know I am.

-John Williams Should Win the Gold for “Most Bitchin’ Olympic Anthem, Ever"-
Every year when the NBA finals are over, there’s a little part of me that dies because I know that once basketball season ends, I will be without any decent sports (note the word “decent” — baseball doesn’t count as a sport unless you’re playing or you’re attending a game in person, wasted) to watch for the next couple of months. Oh sure, every few years you’ll get a World Cup to take in, or a couple extra weeks to watch Manchester United dominate the Champions League, but it’s never enough to fill the two-month gap prior to the NFL preseason games. However, the wait for athletic action, stats to parrot back to my friends, and sportscasters to quote is officially over because today starts the first wave of NFL preseason games (not counting the HoF game last Sunday), and tomorrow begins the ’08 Olympics. Bonus features! Hopefully the U.S. will put on a good showing in most events, and absolutely dominate the competition in the basketball event. At the very least, maybe we can get to the medal round of the official Olympic Foursquare tournament. Unfortunately, China will probably beat us in the “Willfully Break Child Labor Laws” event and the “Government-Controlled-Media Information Relay” (400 meter).

-I Don’t Really Like Popcorn-
Ok, so I haven’t put pen to paper (or rather, pizza-sauce-covered finger to keyboard) about movies lately, so here’s a shotgun overview of everything I’ve seen that I haven’t written about yet:

The Dark Knight — Where do you even begin? The most hotly anticipated movie of the year (and possibly our generation) definitely meets (though doesn’t exceed) the hype. The story: amazing. The quality of production: amazing. The direction, effects, etc. etc. etc: amazing. Heath Ledger’s performance deserves an Oscar based solely on his talent and performance, and not pity for the tragedy of his demise. I saw this movie in the theater twice over the span of about 20 hours (with two different groups of friends, and on two opposite ends of the country). It was great, and I felt myself selfishly disappointed that we wouldn’t get to see Ledger’s character recreated for the sequel. Christian Bale’s Bruce Wayne/Batman is as spot-on as ever, and I continue to try and comprehend how the man behind that mask is the same person who sang “Santa Fe” into the camera so longingly and convincingly all those years ago. Superhero AND musical theatre star = awesome.

Swing Vote — A decent chemistry between the lead characters (Costner and the kid who plays his daughter, whose name escapes me) and some well-played presidential candidates (Kelsey Grammer and Dennis Hopkins) carry a weak premise about 90 minutes further than it could've gone (the movie is 100 minutes long) without their talents. Cheers to the creators for not taking any sides or getting too preachy in the film, but this movie probably would’ve fared better if it’d been marketed properly (or at all) and released in the early fall (when election heat will be at peak capacity). Although I might have felt more harshly about this film if I hadn’t seen it for free at the Arclight in Hollywood, so make sure to take that into account as well.

Step Brothers — Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly substitute their trademark Talladega Nights humor for a lot of gratuitous swearing in their latest joint venture, and not always with positive results. I mean, I get a kick out of seeing Mary Steenburgen drop the F-bomb as much as the next guy, but Talladega Nights had me in stitches with laughter, whereas Step Brothers just had me in butterfly band-aids with chuckles. That said, there are some pretty funny moments, and what the movie lacks in story and creativity, it makes up for with…Mary Steenburgen dropping the F-bomb. Luckily, Ben Stiller’s first comedy in years that actually looks funny is coming out next weekend, so hopefully that will be the movie to break August’s awkward silence with some much-needed hilarity.

Ok, time for me to go play some sports, watch some sports, and then watch some SportsCenter immediately after. Ah, it’s good to be back.

Cheers,
Dustin

Just a couple of sportsbrahs, used for athletic support on the upper deck. Wink.

Blog, Brah

2008-07-28T12:28:00.001-07:00

In any given day, I’m stopped on about two-dozen different occasions and asked how I manage to keep my physique in such superior shape. Out of a combination of kindness and generosity, I’ve decided to compile the Dustin Heveron method of buffness here for everyone to see and use in their own lives. You’re welcome.

Step 1: Be naked.
Or if you’re someplace where nudity is frowned upon, just be as scantily clad as possible. I just spent the week on staff at a church camp in little more than a pair of compression shorts and a smile, and the feedback was incredibly positive (not from the campers or staff, but everyone else there). When you are nude or semi-nude, people look at you and assume that you are in great shape, regardless of whether or not it’s true. Not wearing clothes is a nonverbal way of saying to the world: yes, I meant to look like this…impressed?

Step 2: World’s gym.
How are people supposed to know you’re buff if they never see you working out? That’s why I don’t belong to a gym; I use the world as my gym so that I can show everyone, everywhere exactly how buff I can be. Most days I’ll just hang out on busy sidewalks or bike lanes on streets and wait for some hot girls to walk by. As soon as I see them coming, I’ll drop down and do a push up. Since I can only do about one push up every 274 minutes, I have to save this method for only the very hottest ladies. Don’t want to waste all that manliness on someone who’s under a 6/10, right? But don’t limit your workout, either. Maybe you can do a sit up, or a crunch, or just a little running in place, flashdance style. Anything to show the world how in shape you are, and how committed you are to working out anywhere and everywhere. Other good places to workout: nude beaches (combines steps 1 & 2), elevators, port-a-potties, subways (both the mode of transportation and the restaurant), the DMV, the 405 during rush hour, and birthday parties/funerals.

Step 3: New friends.
If you accidentally find yourself in a gym with all the yuppies, you’ll notice something: for every 50 people on a treadmill, bike, or exercise ball, there will be three dudes in the corner in tank tops, trying to press the entire weight tree with one arm and screaming at each other to just “crank out one more rep” until every vein in their neck is visible. These are the people you want to be friends with. Because just like you, these are the people who believe that personal health and fitness is the most important thing in life, and should be achieved at any cost — even if that cost is the loss of your own personal health and fitness. You should only approach these gentlemen and introduce yourself between sets; if you say hi while they’re in the middle of pressing, your presence might keep them from putting up maximum reps and you will be immediately dismissed as a player hater. Once you’ve met, you’ll notice that all your new friends have the same name for each other. That brings us to our next step.

Step 4: Brah.
Step four, brah. Start referring to everyone as “brah,” and start punctuating all of your sentences with the word “brah,” regardless of whether that sentence was directed at a specific person or not. What is a brah? A “brah” is like a “bro,” but way better. A bro is the dude you knew in school who always tried to be cool by selling drugs to the football team or womanizing ugly chicks. While it’s undeniable that those things do make someone cool, a true brah is way cooler, because he’s the one buying drugs and womanizing average-looking chicks. If you’re someplace where clothing is required, you can still spot a brah because he will probably be wearing a polo shirt with his collar popped. This polo shirt will either be pink or have pink stripes, because a true brah thinks it’s ironic to wear pink when he’s clearly so masculine. Anyone who tries to point out that the pink polo thing is really more cliché than ironic is a player hater. You’ll know for sure you’ve found a true brah if you get close enough to hear him speak and he’s talking about all the chicks he’s going to get with, while simultaneously surrounded by butch, beefcake dudes wearing pink polo shirts. Anyone who tries to point out the irony of this situation is a player hater.

Step 5: Protein, brah.
Nothing says “I overcompensate for a lackluster personality by exercising too much” like consuming protein in as many unnatural ways as possible. Protein pills, protein powder, protein shakes, Metamucil (fiber is pretty much the same as protein, and anyone who calls you out on this is a player hater), and protein enemas are all great ways of getting an exorbitant amount of unnecessary protein into your diet — and if you time it right, you can use protein consumption as another way of publicly displaying your commitment to fit…ment. When someone says they’re going on a Starbucks run and asks if you want anything, just laugh in their face, shove them in the chest, and whip out a packet of protein powder. Tell them that they’re wasting their life on that coffee garbage, then snort several lines of protein powder and flip them off between each line. Then everyone in the vicinity will know that you’re really in great shape by how you belittle everyone else. You may lose friends, but you’ll gain sinus infections. Totally worth it, brah.

Step 6: Be sweaty.
The final step in the Dustin Heveron method to being buff is to be sweaty. All the time, everywhere, in every situation. When you’re drenched in sweat, people will automatically know that you workout like mad, all the time and in an intense way. In fact, the more out of place your sweat and stink is, the more it will be implied that you workout harder than everyone else. Anyone can be sweaty at the beach after a run, but when it’s the middle of the workday and you’ve sweated through a three-piece suit and pitted out your undershirt AND dress shirt, people will know that you are the biggest brah in the office. When people ask you why you smell so bad or sweat so much, just laugh and say to them “hey, don’t sweat it.” This is kind of a disgusting pun, but is really more of a way to show them that they can’t have a normal conversation with you or get a straight answer out of you. This, combined with the smell, will cause them to walk away from you, and 17-out-of-43 times, they will go straight to another coworker and start talking about you (and probably about how much you sweat/smell). No publicity is bad publicity. This step works when you’re out at a bar or nightclub, too. When you approach a pack of women while you’re covered in sweat and stank, they will assume that you are the kind of man who drinks sugar-free redbull and will pay for their shots all night long, on the off chance that doing so will convince them to endure a sweaty, smelly cab ride home with you and have a short-lived sexual encounter that will probably end with you in tears after failing to get to second base. And that is a relationship. Anyone who disagrees is a player hater.

Cheers, brah.
Dustin

True brahs don't smile.

What Do You Put Up, Brah?

2008-07-22T15:51:00.000-07:00

Right now I’m racing against the MS Word Auto-Updater, which is currently downloading an update for my MS Office. The challenge is whether I can complete this literary vomiting I call a blog before it finishes downloading and installing — which I’m pretty confident will delete everything I’m writing right now. Here’s hoping.

-Crazy Kids-
I pulled in to my folks’ house with my siblings in tow last night around 2:30am or so, having completed another fun-filled year of camping at Timberwolf Lake in Lake City, Michigan. The week was awesome, as always, but it wasn’t the mountain biking, hiking, swimming, running, tomfoolery, or my lack of clothing that made the week awesome; it was the people I was there with. This will be somewhere between my third and fifth year taking the 50-ish middleschoolers I used to work with at UALC up to TWL, and it was kind of sad to “graduate” some of the students I’d been going with for several years. It’s crazy for me to see people start out in sixth grade — pretty doe-eyed and still very child-like — then transform in just a couple short years from that to the high-school-ready ninth graders who are pretty capable of making their own decisions and choices about everything from friends and music, to religion and money. At first, part of me finds it fascinating that people change so rapidly at that age, but then as I think more about things, I wonder if people are always changing that rapidly, and maybe they just show it less on the outside. If you were to compare the Dustin of 2005 with the Dustin of 2008, we’d probably look relatively similar on the outside, but there are eons of change and life experience that have taken place in that short amount of time. I keep waiting for (dreading?) the day or the year that I’m gonna wake up and feel like I’m not a kid anymore, that I finally hit “grown up” mode or whatever, but really, after almost a quarter-century on this planet, I just don’t think it’s going to happen to me like it happens to other people. And what’s more, I think change is kind of the key to that. What makes kids kids is that they’re constantly changing, learning, adapting, micro-evolving to a system that’s totally in flux from physical and emotional changes, to social and psychological ones. I think the only people who become “grown ups” in life are the ones who start to resist or reject that change, in favor of a safer, more familiar sedentary lifestyle where they’re more comfortable with themselves and their surroundings. I know I’m just talking out my ass at this point, but I hope I never get to that stage where I’d rather chose ease and latency over change and challenge. I’m not afraid of getting older, but I don’t think that “older” should be synonymous with outdated. I know my time is limited until facebook becomes “so five years ago” and videochatting cell phones are “totally last season,” but maybe if I embrace the same kind of change my middleschool brethren have thrust upon them, I can get older while staying young. At the very least, maybe I can get a date to prom out of all this. Kidding.

-Anticipation is a B****-
I have been waiting to see The Dark Knight since the credits started to roll on Batman Begins, and in T-minus two hours, that wait will finally be over. I have gone to great lengths to prep for this movie without setting my expectation too high, but really, I trust this team of actors/directors too much to really think it’s going to be anything except awesome. Expect my full, spoiler-free thoughts on the film in the next day or two.

-Butterflies Got Nothin’ on Me-
I have barely had a free second to call my own on my vacation, but really, that’s how I prefer it — I’m not here to rest, I’m here to catch up with friends, family and loved ones the only way I know how: by auctioning every available minute of my time to the highest bidder. I know that makes you want to call me a social whore (and you wouldn’t be wrong), but really, I don’t do it to try and seem faux-popular or anything, I just love the people in my life, and want to squeeze as much love into a short amount of time as possible (and no, that’s not slang for anything). If somehow you got neglected on this trip, then rest assured you’ll be top of my list next time I come back. Much love. Oh, and thank you all for being the awesomest group of dudes and dudettes this side of the equator.

Ok, pooltime, dinnertime, movie-time, drankin’ time. See you on the flip side.

Cheers,
Dustin

Enjoy Your Spaghetti

2008-07-13T14:24:00.000-07:00

I can’t/don’t/won’t cook at my own apartment in Cali, so one of the nicest things about being home (aside from seeing family, friends, loved ones, and not having to go to work) is Dad’s cooking. It’s delicious and wonderful and beats the pants off of my own homemade cuisine. One of pop’s signature dishes (and a personal favorite) is his spaghetti and made-from-scratch sauce. It’s delightful on a level that words can’t describe. If any of you are ever up for adoption, I suggest getting my parents to adopt you and having dad cook for you. It’s a treat.

-Days 5 & 6-
I’ve been catching up with people en masse since I’ve been home, with plenty more to come. It’s weird to try and explain to people out here what I’ve been up to in Los Angeles, and why I love it so much…everyone asks me what I’m doing “out there,” and after repeating a similar version of the story about 9,024 different times, I’ve realized that essentially, what I’m doing “out there” is identical to what I was doing “out here.” That is to say, I’m living the life of a young and unhindered 24-year-old, working to make a living and a name for myself, and trying to cram as much nonstop fun into things as possible. People look me over and expect to hear or see some dramatic kind of change, or about some instantaneous success in the entertainment world, and it simply isn’t there. Aside from a slightly darker complexion and some sideburns (which have gotten pretty mixed reviews from the home crowd), I’m the same person I was seven months ago. That said, the effect works both ways, and so even though it feels like no time has passed in my personal life, it also feels like no time has passed in most of my friendships, and it’s been awesome to pick up right where I left off with a lot of my friends and laugh and joke as if I’d only been gone for a week or two, rather than a half of a year.

That’s really all I’ve got time for today, as I’m already late to happy hour…followed by a cookout…followed by a get together. I really don’t miss Ohio (the place, geographically speaking), but I really do miss the people, and it’s nice to have such a wonderful pool of friendships to visit out here. I live in LA, but my home will always be in the hearts and thoughts and prayers of the people who live in and around Upper Arlington, Ohio.

God bless,
Dustin

Now doesn't that just make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?

Are Your Eyes Puffy or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

2008-07-11T11:30:00.001-07:00

“We’ll weather the weather, whatever the weather, whether we like it or not” is the tail-end of an old adage referring to putting up with crappy atmospheric conditions, but I think I’ve got a better one: “Weather sucks? Move to California.” It’s short, sweet and to the point — and perfect for anyone who finds themselves longing for the eternal sunshine (of the well-tanned body), like myself.

-Day 4-
In what authorities are calling an “unprovoked and unmitigated assault” on my boyish good looks, I woke up this morning with swollen, bloodshot eyes. But this wasn’t the usual kind of bloodshot that your eyes get after a night of heavy drinking or cocaine use, this was something much less healthy-looking. A thorough examination from Drs. David, Vella, and Nicholas Caruso couldn’t pinpoint the cause of the inflammation; I hadn’t eaten anything unusual (chick and potatoes for dinner, doesn’t get much more American than that) and I didn’t drink anything my system wasn’t used to (a few gin and tonics, capped off with a vodka gimlet or three), but it was clear that something was causing a reaction. The diagnosis was cut short when something more interesting caught our attention (the Tour de France was on), so we decided that it was an allergic reaction to something unidentifiable and went on with our day. A few minutes later I passed out and started having violent seizures while coughing up blood. …Just kidding, but wouldn’t that have been hilarious?

-To Buy or Not to Buy, That is the Quotient-
Picking up friend-of-a-friend David Alpert (famous for being the only Jew in New York City) and visiting Barnes and Noble were the only big items on the agenda today, as most of the energy in Caruso-ville was being stored up for a certain someone’s 85th birthday party tonight (I’ll give you a hint: it’s not me). After a 66% successful trip to B&N, I’m now the proud owner of Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Identity and Michael Chrighton’s (sic) Terminal Man. I was mere moments away from purchasing Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight (the basis for a decent-looking movie being released in December), but a last second lack-of-faith in my friend Meredith’s taste in literature for males kept from picking it up on the off chance that it’s a romance novel (Lord knows I already own too many of those…er, wait…I’ve said too much). However, if anyone with both chromosomes out there has read it, please send me your opinion on whether or not I should get it, since I’m always on the market for a good story by a current author (Shakespeare’s great, but he hasn’t released anything in forever…slacker). Anyone who wants to earn Super Bonus Friendpoints can suggest to me which of the two newly-purchased novels I should read first.

With new movies, new iPhone software and new siblings on the horizon, I’ll truncate this post in anticipation of more writing over the weekend. You’re excited, I can tell.

Much love,
Dustin

If anyone wants to get me one of these for my birthday, I'd like one in red.

Bite Me

2008-07-10T08:56:00.001-07:00

Number of mosquito bites acquired after seven months in Los Angeles = 0.

Number of mosquito bites acquired after 31 hours back in the Midwest = 14.

It’s good to be back.

-Day 3-
All faux-griping aside, Day 3 found California trying to catch up with me a bit, as I woke up to a beautiful, sunny day and a bowl of granola. The house is filling up a bit with the arrival of a delightful Aunt-and-Uncle duo (also visiting from California…what’re the odds?), but I still have my batcave of a bedroom in the basement, and if I didn’t already owe my soul to a southern Californian landlord, I’d definitely consider owning a summer home in Muskegon, Michigan. I took the morning pretty slow; slept in, snagged some breakfast, talked cars for a bit (or rather, eavesdropped on people who actually know about cars while I nodded in agreement), went for a bit of a run and got my thug workout on (gotta work off those alcohol calories…alcoholories?). Another mild workout lies just over the horizon as our assignment for the day is to move some tables from point A to point B in anticipation of a party that’s being thrown tomorrow night. After some light investigation, I found out that this party isn’t actually being thrown in my honor, but rather in joint celebration for Nick’s dad (66) and his granddad (85…different sides of the family), which brings me to my next point:

HAPPY 66TH BIRTHDAY DAVID ANTHONY CARUSO!!

Don’t ask me why I know his middle name. But I digress. Once we finish birthday dinnering, I’ll be off to catch a show at the Hope College Summer Repertory Theater, which I’m certain will be an amazing performance.

-Engaging Conversation-
In other news, it’s been officially summertime for a few weeks, but it also seems that we’re right in the middle of another important season: engagement season! People the world over are realizing that they are either A) deeply in love and want to take the next step in their relationships, or B) that they probably won’t be able to date anyone hotter, so might as well settle down. Just kidding, it’s just funnier to be pseudo-cynical (to me, at least), but I’m actually incredibly happy for all of my engaged and pre-engaged friends out there, and I wish them nothing but my most heartfelt congratulations and prayers for long and happy marriages. Also, I strongly encourage them all to invite me to the wedding — especially if they have attractive younger sisters (18 and up, please).

-To Hell in an Eddie Murphy Vehicle-
Hellboy 2(officially Hellboy and the Golden Army, since all the good moviemakers have stopped using numbers to keep track of their sequels) and Meet Dave both come out on Friday, and let me tell you right now what I’m going to think of each of them: Hellboy will be epic and amazing, and tell as good of a story as the first one, but with a bigger budget and better effects. Meet Dave will be an awful hodgepodge of bad voices/characters and leftover props from the Honey, I Shrunk the Kids series of movies. It will not be good, and Eddie Murphy will continue to chip away at what little respect I have left for his career. It will be a sad day for people who loved Beverly Hills Cop, Raw, and 48 Hours. It will be a great day for people who loved Norbit and Dr. Doolittle. Le Sigh.

Ok, off to move those tables and snag some lunch, I’ll be back with more as soon as I feel like it

Cheers,
Dustin

Bell's Brewery: It'll cure what ails you...or rather, it'll ale what ails you. Which is just as good.

Up, Up, and A…Wait

2008-07-09T12:12:00.001-07:00

I awoke in seat 34-B of a Northwest Airlines flight next to a grizzled old man in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt. He was furious. Our flight was going to be about a half hour late, and this fact infuriated my row-mate to no end. That’s how I knew it was going to be a good vacation; because anytime you have a fuming-mad 70-year-old in a tropical T-shirt, swearing about an extra half-hour’s worth of flight time, it’s going to be an entertaining trip. Period.

All waitings and delays aside, here is what I’ve been up to thus far on my holiday (from real?):

-Day 1-
The Muskegon, Michigan airport is more of a glorified foyer than it is an airport terminal. When I rounded the corner from my prop-jet plane and crossed through the “security” barrier (an unmanned plastic gate that said “Be Careful” on it), I saw my host and friend waiting for me on the other side — literally the only human to make use of the waiting area since the Nixon administration. A decision to relax and catch up over a beer turned into us polishing off a case of Blue Moon while critiquing reality television and discussing our lovelives (how the dating scene is in California, how his girlfriend is doing in NYC, etc). In between flights and time changes and variations in when the sun sets, I’ve had literally no idea what time it is anywhere I go, but I gather that we called it a night after it was officially considered “late” in all timezones, and I retired to my now-standard area in the Caruso family basement (which has been redone again since my last visit). This is the best sleep I’ve had in months. Cheers.

-Day 2-
I pull myself out of bed at what I guess is a reasonable time, with some delicious granola-cereal my treat for being up before lunch. A leisurely shower and a quick facebooking session later, I’m ready to head up to the Lake where Papa Caruso is working on redoing the family cabin. A social call to the cabin (which is clearly going to be an amazing property once completed) quickly turns into a couple of capable young lads flexing their youth and vigor by moving a dock from one property by the lake to another. This sounds easier than it was, but as I said, our combined powers proved more than a match for the soggy wooden dock, and within minutes we’d earned our Bear’s Burgers lunch (a local dining establishment, complete with frosty mugs of Bell’s Oberon). Next up was a quick jaunt to Mrs. C’s elementary school for another small dose of manual labor, followed by more family bonding (California relatives had just arrived in town), and a wonderful meal at an upscale Greek restaurant that served me an amazing, custom Italian meal. Post-dinner was a trip to visit a friend at Western Michigan University — drinks and good conversations were as abundant as the Bell’s Brewery beers served on tap.

And so there was evening, and there was morning, the first two days. I’ve yet to see the sun, and I was quickly reacquainted with some Midwest nuances that I’d forgotten about (i.e. humidity, cloud cover, mosquito bites, and paying less than $15 for a drink…all in all, not a bad trade).

More coverage comes tomorrow, in the meantime, I’m too busy enjoying myself and the company of my best friend and his family.

Much love,
Dustin

Love them ponies! The Carusomobile right before the sun came out and we put the top down...now that's living.

America's Age: 232 is the New 194

2008-07-05T22:57:00.000-07:00

Famed author Charles Dickens once wrote, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Pessimist. If I were going to write a novel about cities, and I wanted people to stay interested, I’d write something like, “It was the raddest of times in this one city, but then in this totally unrelated other city, it was the awesomest of times as well, so it’s really a win/win situation no matter which one you go to.” And that’s why Charles Dickens was never a very good travel agent.

-Putting the “Musk” in Muskegon Since 1984-
In a little less than 36 hours from now, I will be traveling to a city in Michigan that a lot of you have never heard of, and will probably never have the opportunity to visit yourselves. With a bi-line like that, you might be worried that I’m in for a week of boredom and early bedtimes, but what you don’t know is that for the moment, Muskegon, Michigan has this man on loan from New York City:

“Who is that?” you ask? Very simply, he is a robotic android sent from the future, whose sole purpose to keep me either entertained or inebriated (preferably both) for the duration of my visit. In this task, he cannot fail — the world depends on it. Also, I need a decent picture of him for my iPhone contact listing.

-Wanted, Dead or…No, Just Dead, Actually-
In my mountain of verbal praise for Wall•E last week, I forgot to mention that I saw (and loved) the movie Wanted as well. I love the shoot ‘em up genre of movies in general, but Wanted also added a decent enough storyline that the movie wasn’t purely eye candy (although Angelina Jolie certainly was). I really like “superhero” movies that feel close enough to the realm of possibility that they could actually happen to someone in real life (say, me, for example), and Wanted distorted the line of believability just far enough that it came off as cool and real-feeling, instead of far-fetched and cheesy. And that’s no easy task (just go visit the offices of the guys who made Daredevil and the Eric Bana version of the Hulk…if they still have jobs, that is).

-Maybe If I Were a Bit More Mild-Mannered…-
On an unrelated note, I am still pretty convinced that I going to develop superpowers at some point in my life. I don’t hold this to be true on the same level that I believe in God, or gravity, but it’s still pretty high up there. If I were to rank it on some sort of Personal Belief Scale about my life, I would put it right between “going to get married someday” and “will have at least one son who is worse at sports than me, so I can mock him openly in front of his friends and school him at basketball.” I’ve had some close calls and near misses to super(hero)stardom in the past (there was the super-hearing era of the mid-90’s…and who could forget the freeze-breath incident of ‘89?), but nothing concrete yet. In fact, I can pretty easily recall a time when I was convinced that the only reason I hadn’t developed any superpowers yet is because, historically, all that stuff doesn’t really start happening till around your 18th birthday or so. You can imagine how depressing my 18th birthday was when I hadn’t started to fly or shoot lasers from my eyes or ANYTHING. But, like the amusingly-naïve man-child that I am, I refuse to give up hope. With my physical body nearing what will probably be its peak condition (don’t laugh at that, you wish you were this skinny), and no noticeable powers to speak of (unless you count being able to type 70WPM and quote every line of dialogue from Arrested Development), now I’m forced to rely on the much less predictable “accident scenario.” Basically, for those of you who didn’t spend your formative years trying to systematically eliminate everything cool about yourself by watching superhero movies and playing with action figures, the ol’ “accident scenario” is a situation in which I find myself having just stumbled into the right place at the right time. Classic examples of this are Spiderman’s “an escaped radioactive spider bit me because I happened to be touring a museum” bit, and the Flash’s “my beaker of wacky chemicals was hit by lightning right as I was being doused by them” fiasco. So over the next few months, I plan to spend a lot of time wandering aimlessly around nuclear testing facilities, touring experimental military technology warehouses, and falling haphazardly into some good, old fashioned vats of unstable, boiling chemicals (that will probably be glowing various shades of green and red). If anyone’s interested in joining me on these junkets, just let me know and we’ll see what we can arrange — after all, every superhero needs a sidekick, right? Besides, if none of that works out, I’ll be forced to resort to the very last option for becoming a superhero: just do a lot of working out and somehow become a billionaire (Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark know how to do it…I’ve always wondered why Bill Gates and Richard Branson haven’t developed some kind of technology or something to make themselves superheroes, but that’s a thought for another post).

-I Can’t Think of Any Puns for This Subtitle That Aren’t Dirty-
To jump back to movies for a second, I saw Hancock on the Fourth of July, and it was awesome. Probably not geared towards those of you who loved Hitch, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. The plot twist at the end is a little suspect, but other than that it’s a great Fourth of July kind of movie, and is set to gross $100 million in its first week or so (exactly as I predicted in an earlier post). I don’t think it’s physically possible for Will Smith to become a bigger, more respected superstar than he already is, but I hope for the sake of the viewing public that Will Smith being at the pinnacle of his success and talent doesn’t stop him from creating great movies and sharing them with us. Also, Will, if you need a nerdy-but-lovable sidekick for Hancock who’s comically lanky, I know just the guy. And yes, Will Smith reads this blog.

As usual, I’ve found myself with tons more writing left in me…but the nighttime calls my name and this post is long enough as is. So with that in mind I wish you a happy and safe holiday weekend, and I promise to scintillate you all with posts during my travels.

Good luck and God speed,
Dustin

Jason Bateman + Will Smith = awesome.

Wall•E World

2008-06-30T23:35:00.001-07:00

I know my thoughts can get lengthy, so I will spare you all my normal preamble and get straight to the point: go see Wall•E. It’s a great movie made by great people, who I can only assume are going to make a great deal of money off of this talking robot (maybe even enough to buy a gold-plated Johnny #5), and rightfully so. Sometimes, my entertainer-sense kicks in and I can tell that a movie is going to be good long before I see it. Wall•E was one of those movies (Pixar’s history of awesomeness doesn’t hurt, either). But even with high expectations going into it, Wall•E still blew me away. The visuals are spectacular on a level that only Pixar seems able to achieve, the story is as beautiful as Romeo & Juliet, and the plot keeps you interested for the entire 90-ish minutes — all this with only a few pages of dialogue in the whole movie (a real “F you” to anyone who’s ever whined about acting, writing or directing a non-dialogue movie…myself included).

-America’s Next Top…Friend-
So I was making one of my 472 daily visits to facebook the other day, and I noticed that the “Top Friends” application on my profile page was gone. Now, a little while back I pretty much banned all facebook applications because most of them are poorly made, ugly, or both (I don’t want to be a vampire, ninja, werewolf, pirate, zombie, Jedi, or Jet Fighter; I don’t want to join your mob; Bumper Stickers hasn’t ever worked for more than 14 seconds in a row; and I appreciate you giving me a title of nobility in your court, but I’m going to have to decline, Baron Jackass). The only exceptions to this rule are the Top Friends app (because nothing builds friendships like ranking people as if they were college football teams) and the NES Retro Gaming app (because seriously, it’s so awesome — it’s like having a Nintendo for your computer. Amazing). But like I said to kick off this paragraph, this Top Friends app mysteriously disappeared from my life today, so I was forced to find another Top Friends app to replace it. This in and of itself was a pain in the ass, but it also unearthed another problem: I need a new ninth-best friend. Don’t ask me why, but I like having the symmetry of three rows of three friends right underneath my main picture — and I recently decided to boot my previous ninth-best friend off the list, so this leaves one spot up for grabs. I should also mention that the ninth-best spot is typically reserved for a girlfriend or something along those lines, but since I’m single right now, that means it’s really up for grabs by anyone. Now I know what you’re thinking: “Dustin, how can I snag the coveted ninth-best spot on such a revered and elite list of people?” The answer is that frankly, I don’t know. I can’t say exactly what it will take to secure your spot at the bottom of my top friends, all I can say is that it when I see it, I will know. Until then, I just encourage all of you to try your best and be creative — and keep in mind that even if you don’t make it into the top 1% of my friends, that you still are my friend…and that’s winning in and of itself.

-LA Film Festival…AKA: the Best Fest in the West, No Jest-
I was fortunate enough to get into a couple screenings at the LA Film Fest last week, and in a word it was: festive. When you’re surrounded by as many struggling actors/writers/directors/producers as I am, it’s easy to lose track of the good and positive things that happen within — and as a result of — this industry. It’s so uplifting to see moviemakers who aren’t obsessed with the money and fame of the movie industry, but rather just truly care about making a good film. It’s weird for me to remember that movies didn’t start as superstar-laden cash cows whose sole purpose was to line the pockets of studio execs, they started art. Sure, some of the LAFF’s contributors are pretty well-off, financially, and a lot of the people who had films screened at the fest will make a lot of money…but it still felt like I was closer to the original passion that spurred the first film-artists into making a “moving picture,” then lovingly winding their film through a projector so they could share their passion and joy (and their accomplishment) with their friends. And that’s a cool feeling.

-Are You Having a Laugh?-
I’ve always thought that the British —though superior at making teas and other flavorless foods — were awful comedians. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s funny to laugh at them when they do stereotypically buffoonish things, but that really doesn’t count because it’s not intentional on their part. But the thing is, I’ve never been able to figure out why the British are so unfunny. The answer to this question has eluded me endlessly…until just recently. But lucky for you, I finally figured it out, and here’s my theory: Stephen Merchant (Gervais’ longtime friend and constant entertainment partner) is an alien. I’m not having a go at him when I say that, I really mean it.If you haven’t seen what he looks like, go google a picture of him, because this is what you’ll get: Stephen Merchant is about 11 feet tall, 135lbs, pale as the moon, and wears glasses to help mask his all-seeing alien eyes. Many moons ago, Stephen Merchant came to earth in his spaceship, and went from country to country having a laugh with all the people of the world. But when he got to England, he saw that the people there weren’t nearly as funny as the rest of the world. Rather than let the British people go without the laughter the rest of the world was already experiencing, Stephen Merchant used his superior alien technology to transfer all the humour and comedy of every British citizen into one man. And that man was Ricky Gervais. So now, despite not having the ability to be funny on their own, the British citizens would at least have the gift of true laughter and comedy delivered to them from the British Santa Claus of comedy, Ricky Gervais. The BBC version of The Office has long been hailed as comedic gold around the world, Ricky’s show Extras is the most underrated comedy of our generation, and Gervais’ stand-up comedy tours are definitely worth youtubing if you’re interested in giving your abs a good workout. Watch it, and tell them Dustin sent you.

Ok gang, time for me to go do some in-person real-life, one-on-one, face-to-face blogging with some friends (also known as conversations). I’ll let you know how it goes.

Cheers,
Dustin

Stephen Merchant: Proof that there is intelligent life outside of earth...and that it understands sight gags.

Bros Before Prose

2008-06-24T00:17:00.000-07:00

Hey! It’s been a busy weekend, Get Smart wasn’t that great (although it wasn’t too bad, either) and I’ve yet to see Love Guru (and I’m not sure if I will just based on what I’ve heard so far…I might just save my time and money for Wanted/Wall*E this weekend). More importantly than any of that, I was doing some grocery shopping today at my local Albertson’s, and they had BANANA NUT CRUNCH!! If you are out of the loop with my eating habits, Banana Nut Crunch is like my fave cereal ever, and they didn’t have it at the grocery store by my old house. Seeing those boxes of BNC stacked in the aisles of Albertsons was like getting my Christmas presents six months early…if my Christmas presents were a bunch crappy boxes of mass-produced cereal, that is. I haven’t really been eating breakfast since my freshman year of college, but maybe BNC can get me back on the wagon (or off the wagon, whichever means what I’m trying to say).

-LA Loses Two Great Men…For Very Different Reasons-
I’m pretty sure Rob Robol is too busy to read this blog, and I know George Carlin didn’t, but both were LA residents that are no longer with us — Rob is a good friend of mine who is moving back to Ohio, and George Carlin is the famous comedian who sadly passed away a little earlier this week. I’ve had the privilege of knowing Rob for many years, and hope he knows that we will miss him out here. I’ve only met George Carlin a couple of times (he came to the restaurant for his birthday recently, among other visits), but he was very gregarious and friendly and full of life — even remembered my name. His loss is truly a palpable one, and — love him or hate him — his impact on comedy was massive. Rest in peace.

-Life, Love, and the Pursuit of Crappiness-
I had Chiptole for lunch today, and several In N’ Out Burgers for dinner…it was a bad day for the toilet-paper holder to break, is all I’m saying.

Ok, the rest of this blog will be in silence to memorialize Misters Carlin and Robol, full blog(s) later on this week.

God bless,
Dustin

It’s a Good Week for Green Puns

2008-06-18T23:41:00.000-07:00

The rebirth of the Hulk movie franchise has been a wild success, the Boston Celtics have won their first NBA championship in a couple of decades, there’s plenty of potatoes in Ireland, hybrid cars are finally catching on, and somewhere, Seth Green is getting paid to play with dolls for his crappy stop-motion TV show. Basically, if you’re green, you’ve got it pretty good right now. In an effort to join in on the recent success of all things green, I’ve worn my green polo shirt to work for 17 days straight without washing it. Unfortunately, all that tactic has gotten me so far is demoted to a job as a landscaper, working with guys who don’t have their green card. Yikes.

-You Wouldn’t Like Him When He’s Eric Bana-
Since the first day production was announced on this new Hulk film reboot, the public has openly wondered why Marvel would remake a movie that was so awful the first time it came out. The answer is that now — five years removed from the original big screen, live-action Hulk modernization — Marvel finally knows how to make a movie that doesn’t suck. The X-Men franchise stopped being good about halfway through the second film of the trilogy, Daredevil was a joke, and Ghost Rider was just an excuse for Hollywood A-listers to dress Nicholas Cage up in leather chaps and write “for a good ride with a flaming guy, call Nicholas Cage” in all the studio bathrooms. But Iron Man and the new Hulk are two of the best superhero movies I’ve seen in quite some time (Iron Man is slightly better, but both are definitely worth paying theater prices for). This whole film reeks of Edward Norton’s sheer talent just overtaking the entire movie-making process and producing the best-possible product (Eddie even wrote the final draft of the script, though some pretentious WGA a-holes denied him official writing credit for it). The only thing I would change about the movie is Liv Tyler’s level of attractiveness…maybe they can fix it in the sequel.

-Gem Garnets are Red, Kevin Garnetts are Green-
Right before the start of game six of the NBA Finals, Kevin Garnett got himself fired up to win, and headbutted the goalpost — which apparently knocked the baskets into Garnett’s team’s total submission for the night as they walloped Kobe and the Lakers by almost 40 points, winning their fourth game of the best-of-seven series and becoming the 2008 NBA Champions. I’m not recommending that any of you go all Zinedine Zidane on a metal goalpost next time you want to win a pickup game of knockout with your friends, but you can’t argue with results, and that’s exactly what the Celtics got. Now I know there’s a lot of anti-Boston sentiment out there right now (especially in LA), but believe me, this is just how things needed to shake down. Since the beginning of the playoffs I’ve said that we were going to see a Lakers/Celtics finals, with the C’s coming out on top. I pride myself on being right 99.9% of the time, so naturally this had to come true. I don’t know if I believe that God really cares about sports one way or the other, but from the beginning of this season, it’s seemed like the Celtics were just predestined to win it all. And to all you Boston haters out there, think about it this way: with Boston winning the NBA Championship, we’ll only have to put up with their gloating for a week or two. But if they’d gotten to the Finals and LOST, we’d be hearing about how cursed their town is (the Red Sox falling apart, the Patriots blowing their perfect season by losing in the SuperBowl, etc.) for the next 20 years. Because if there’s one thing Boston fans (in any sport) like even more than winning, it’s whining about how they should’ve won, why their team(s) got ripped off and blah blah blah. Trust me, this outcome is going to be better for all us non-Boston sports fans in the long run.

-Flower Power-
The Happening is bad. I was going to put some sort of clever joke as the start of this paragraph to kind of ease you into things, but really, I just needed to come right out and say it. I can’t speak for the rest of America, but for me this was M. Night’s last chance to prove to me that he had any real talent or ability as a movie-maker, and he did just that. He proved that he used up all his skill in making his first two hit movies, and now he’s out of talent-juice. On the ill-advised chance that you’re going to go see this movie I won’t spoil anything for you, but let’s just leave it at this: the acting is bad, the writing is bad, the directing is bad. And unfortunately, M. Night has no one to blame but himself (the price you pay for being the sole writer/producer/director on a movie). I saw the movie for free and still felt like it was overpriced. Just like the namesake of Michael Jackson’s number one single from 1987, this movie is bad. On the upside, we have nothing but guaranteed hits on the movie horizon, so it won’t be long before we can collectively wash the taste out The Happening out of our mouths and replace it with the sweetness of Get Smart, Love Guru and Wall*E. Yum.

Well, my creativity just tanked like Kobe after the first quarter of last night’s game, so I’m gonna head out and have some fun.

Stay green,
Dustin

Separated at birth, maybe? Certainly can't deny the similarities...

Dealbreakers

2008-06-16T23:39:00.000-07:00

I see you there. Staring at me from across a crowded room. Giving me that sexy look as you twirl your hair and playfully chug your 22-ounce glass of Guinness. Oh yeah, you want me. You motion for me to come over and buy you a drink. I shrug my shoulders and despondently turn my pants pockets inside-out — the universal sign for “I’m poor” — and then point back at you suggesting that you should buy this round. You laugh because you think I’m joking and being coy; I laugh because I know there’s only $3.98 in my checking account and a Los Angeles bar charges $15 for a long island. When you bring over my beverage and start to talk with me, you immediately become enamored with my wit, charm, muscular physique, rugged good looks and humility. I’m attracted to all the cute little things you do when you’re near me like slurring your speech (probably because you’re nervous about impressing me) and coughing up spurts of saliva on my sleeve after we do a shot. It’s adorable. But alas, just as things seem to be going so well, everything screeches to a halt. Why? Because you, like so many women before you, have committed a dealbreaker. And just like the dozens of denizens who have tried to win my heart over the years and failed, your chance has passed. If you’re one of the lucky ones who are still biding your time before you hit on me, here’s an abbreviated list of things to NOT do/have/be if you’d like to be considered for my affections:

Gauged ears.
Gauges should be saved for describing shotguns and the dashboard of your car; I’ve never seen a girl walk by and thought to myself, “my, she’d be so much prettier if she had earholes big enough to squeeze a PVC pipe through.” If you need to rebel against corporate America or your parents that badly, why don’t you just a get a tattoo or date a minority like everyone else does.

Trannies.
It’s probably better (and cheaper, medically) to be an awkward guy or girl than it is to be an awkward guy and girl. I don’t know anyone who has a big Adam’s Apple fetish.

Bad fashion sense.
I know it might feel weird to be judged about how you dress by someone who regularly wears flame-streaked Cons and a Jewel Concert t-shirt with jeans that are about five sizes too small, but that’s just how it is. Your best bet is just to try to be you and dress like yourself. Unless yourself is someone I don’t like. Then you’re hosed.

Too short.
I’m tall, and while I have nothing against short people (some of my best friends are hovering right around or below 5’), I prefer someone who can at least look me in the eye when they’re glaring at me for making another one of my hilarious sexist jokes.

Too tall.
If you’re taller than me and we’re dating, I probably wouldn’t be able to focus on the relationship since I’d be constantly worried about getting you back to the circus on time before the ringmaster realizes you’re gone.

Actresses.
Exceptions include Rachel Bilson, Alexis Bledel, Mila Kunis and a small handful of others. Ironically enough, actresses tend to be too much drama in a relationship. No one needs to see you make a scene when I break up with you in the non-smoking section of a Denny’s. Save it for the monologue.

Short-short hair.
Look at Demi Moore: years of critical and financial success, then she does one movie where she shaves her head, and all she’s really had since is a co-starring role in The Hunchback of Norte Dame 2 (straight to DVD) and Ashton Kutcher (who is probably only dating her as part of a giant prank for Punk’d). Now you might say to me, “But Dustin, isn’t all that a bit superficial?” And the answer is yes, yes it is.

Bad taste.
Sometimes this one can be hard to pinpoint, but if you’re really into things like Matthew McConaughey movies, country music, reality TV, prohibition, wacky broaches, and sitcoms like Two and a Half Men, then guess what? You’re also into bad taste! Congrats!

Taste bad.
This one should be a no-brainer. Either brush your teeth more often, quit smoking, lay off the chewing tobacco, tone down your coffee intake, or keep gum on hand at all times.

Smokers.
As soon as you cross over from being the person who bums cigs off other people, to being the person who people go to bum cigs off of, then you are smoking too much. And probably gross-tasting.

Ugly.
Anyone below a 7.5 on the traditional 10-point scale of attractiveness need not apply. If you’re not sure where you are on that scale, just ask me, and I’ll tell you (but odds are if you have to ask, the answer isn’t going to be a pleasant one).

Too tan.
It’s the middle of another frigid winter in the Midwest, yet your complexion is that of a Brazilian fisherman. That’s messed up. If you can’t get your tan the natural way, learn to look hot while pale (it worked for Gwen Stefani…kind of).

Funky Spellings of Names.
Katie with a Q? Jenny with all E’s? Tiffany with the I and Y switched? Your personality should be unique, your name should be uniform. If the only way you can make yourself stick out is by dotting your I’s with hearts, then we are not going to get along. Get it fixed, ladies.

That should be enough to get you started down the path of self-improvement for now, if you already meet all these qualifications and want more suggestions from me, then call me and we can set up a one-on-one coaching session. I’ll even let you buy dinner.

Much love,
Dustin

Here's a group of people who meet all of my standards.

People Who Are Afraid of Specific Number/Day Combos Are Idiots

2008-06-13T17:49:00.000-07:00

If you were one of the unlucky few who missed the giant Apple keynote presentation on Monday, let me give you a brief summary of the speech: iPhones are awesome, Macs are amazing, and Apple Inc. will be running all civilized countries by 2054. With Barack Obama having finally put the overeager, under-funded Hilary Clinton back in her place (I could make a chauvinist, sexist joke here, but it wouldn’t be appropriate…since Hilary isn’t actually female), I think the best choice for Obama’s running mate is none other than Apple CEO and co-founder, Steve Jobs. …Not certain that an Obama/Jobs ’08 ticket would be the best thing for America? Let me convince you otherwise by pointing out the benefits of an Obama/Jobs political union:

+Sick of boring political speeches, needlessly long rallies, and humdrum debates? With a master showman like Jobs on the ticket, political press conferences and presidential addresses would be transformed from useless CNN fodder to amazing, multi-sensory presentations that we would actually look forward to. Plus, Jobs’ would probably end each of them with some amazing news or innovation that would change the world for the better. Add in Obama’s intellectual prowess and we’re looking at what could be the most compelling and captivating stuff on television. What would it be like if presidential addresses pulled the same kind of ratings as the season finale of American Idol? We’d have a country full of people who actually cared about what was going on in their government, that’s what. And to keep all the girls interested, maybe they could appoint David Cook as the Secretary of Sexy. The Sexretary. You’re welcome, ladies.

+Obama is the first African-American ever up for presidential nomination, and I think that’s awesome — but what about all the racists? People who still fly the confederate flag on their gas-guzzling mega-trucks from the 80’s, KKK members, and the majority of Hilary Clinton’s supporters all get a vote the same as the rest of us. And with Hildawg off the market, their votes could easily switch from Hilary to the McCain camp. But with Steve Jobs in our corner, we’d have the kind of commanding, powerful white man that ignorant, less-powerful white men naturally respect and listen to. If Steve Jobs were running for VP, he’d probably gather all the country’s racists in one place (like a big conference room in a Cupertino, CA) and say, “Hey! Quit it! Stop being racist! Good. Now vote for Obama and I. And buy an iPhone.” And that would be the end of racism.

+Regardless of how you feel about the war in Iraq, the one thing we can all agree on is that we wish it was over. Steve Jobs is as famous for being a certified genius as he is infamous for being a certified madman. All it would take is for someone to tell Steve Jobs that somehow the war in Iraq was hurting Apple Inc. stock prices, and he would go ballistic and immediately fly over there and start kicking every Iraqi ass (without taking names) until there wasn’t anyone left to challenge his authority. He would use his abilities as a master strategist and his superior technology to lead the US Armed Forces in locating and dispelling every single Al Queda cell in the Middle East. Finally, he would track down Osama bin Laden and challenge him to a winner-take-all fight to the death streamed live on apple.com (and available for purchase on iTunes for just $1.99 immediately following the bout). Having already beaten cancer into submission, Steve Jobs would have no trouble thrashing Osama. Once victorious, he would then instate Justin Long and John Hodgman (the guy who plays PC in the Mac commercials) as Iraq’s new leadership, and they would transform it into a hilarious place to be — which would increase tourism commerce and bring safe, well-paying jobs to the Iraqi people. Once the area was secured, Jobs would build the world’s largest Macintosh computer-assembly factory in Iraq, which would bring even more jobs and create an even healthier economic environment. He would call this Apple mega-factory The iMaq. Within two years, Iraq would be the number seven funnest country on earth, and the fifteenth-best place to have your honeymoon.

+As Vice President of the United States, Steve Jobs would have the answer to skyrocketing gas prices, too! Using his connections at Pixar, SJ would commission a computer-animated movie about an adorable little fuel cell named Greenie who spends his whole life being bullied by gallons of gas called The Petroleum Pigs, who live in a giant Monster Truck that travels the world terrorizing everyone with their evil, ozone-destroying fumes. In the climatic final battle scene of the movie, Greenie has been cornered, and is about to be crushed by the giant wheel of The Petroleum Pigs’ Monster Truck — when just in the nick of time, Greenie’s best friends Wendy the Windmill-Generator and Sunny the Solar Panel show up! Wendy reverses her windmill rotation to send a gust of wind that blows the gascap off The Monster Truck, and Sunny reflects a concentrated beam of sunlight into the gas tank, igniting all The Petroleum Pigs and causing them to catch on fire. At the last second before the Petroleum Pigs and their truck explode, Greenie grabs the steering wheel of The Monster Truck and points the truck upwards. Our heroes jump into their electric getaway car and speed away at a blistering 27mph just as The Monster Truck explodes and launches into space along with the evil Petroleum Pigs, ending the reign of gas companies forever. This movie inspires a whole new generation of kids who quickly use their combined intelligence and think-out-of-the-boxery to invent safe, alternative methods of fueling and powering our society, thus ushering in an era of peace unlike any before it. In an act of true grace, Steve Jobs makes the movie available for free, unlimited HD viewings to anyone who buys an AppleTV system for their HDTV. The world rejoices.

…Mind you, these are just a paltry few of the thousands of positive things that would begin to take place once we put Barak Obama and Steve Jobs into office. So do the right thing, and petition your local Apple Retail Store Manager to petition their Regional Manager to petition their Apple Corporate Vice President to petition their Executive Board Member in Charge of Operations to petition Steve Jobs to run for office beneath Barack Obama. Because the only way we’re going to see positive change in this country is if we let Steve Jobs force it down our collective throats while Barack convinces us we like it. It’s the iMerican way.

Happy Friday the 13th,
Dustin

Obama/Jobs '08: Putting the Electable in Delectable since 1987

Fewer Bars in Fewer Places

2008-06-11T18:43:00.000-07:00

The title of this post actually works on a lot of levels, since not only am I writing this post before we have internet hooked up at our house (i.e. fewer bars of wi-fi), but now that we live in a less downtrodden, much nicer/safer part of LA, our apartment doesn’t have and/or need cast-iron bars on all the windows, doors, etc. to prevent people from breaking in and robbing us blind (at our old house on USC campus, even the little window on the stove had bars on it…although how someone could break into our house from inside the stove is still a mystery to me, but better safe than sorry, I suppose). Conversely, an initial scouting report of the area reveals that there are actually more bars (that is, the kind that serve delicious and refreshing alcohol to patrons over 21) in more places around here than at our old house, so that’s a definite boon as well.

-Stating the Obvious-
So it’s been a smidge over a week since moving into my new abode, and as you shouldn’t be surprised to hear, I love it. Literally. I both love and am in love with it. My roommates and I are the only male residents of the entire complex (bonus features!) and every single characteristic about this apartment pleases me to no end. I made one of my now-frequent trips to the beach yesterday, chatting up a lovely blonde female who was reading the same thing I was (that is to say, we were both reading a book — not the same book, mind you — but still, what are the odds?), had myself a nice Jamba Juice, made some phone calls and just had a splendid time. On a minor downside, I put on some SPF-8 sunscreen yesterday, but missed the spot right underneath my left eye, so now it’s sunburnt and red-ish, and it looks like I got into a wicked fight with someone who got a direct hit to my left eye. Oh well, maybe I can tell people I joined a Redondo Beach Fight Club and I’ll get mad amounts of street cred. But probably people will just assume that I got tipsy and made some unwanted sexual advances to a girl who then proceeded to knock me out with a single punch to the eye. Which, truthfully, is much more likely.

-Panda Watch-
At the sacrifice of less-important things such as clothes, gas, and food, I have been spending my money by going to see at least one awesome movie each opening weekend (minus the one-weekend hiatus I took when Sex and the City came out*), and this week, Kung Fu Panda was the movie du jour (…du week?). In keeping with the tradition of most of the summer’s fare, it was awesome. The animation is obviously amazing since it was produced by Pixar (the world’s only company to make their entire fortune of a singular curiosity-ridden, bouncing desklamp) and the story is an uplifting one that will appeal to chubby kids everywhere. As well as their chubby friends, chubby families, chubby coworkers, chubby neighbors, and (probably also chubby) pets. All faux-fat-jokes aside, the movie is good, and the only thing that baffles me is the casting: you obviously see/hear a ton of Jack Black and Dustin Hoffman in the leading roles, but it took me until the end credits to realize that their costars were bigtime names such as Angelina Jolie, Seth Rogan, David Cross and Lucy Liu (minus David Cross, whose voice I recognized after the second syllable of his first line…a side effect of being an Arrested Development obsessee, no doubt). The reason for this delayed recognition wasn’t because their voices were disguised or unrecognizable, it’s just because they really didn’t have that much dialogue in the movie. I bet cumulatively they had fewer than 11 pages of scripted lines that made it into the final cut of the film. This is pretty much par for the course for David Cross, whose Hollywood niche seems to be the perpetual sidekick, but was especially surprising for the others — especially Angelina Jolie and Seth Rogan, both of whom have major, recent hits under their belts with more on the way in the near future. So my question to you, the Hollywood movie producer, is this: in an industry as budget-driven as film-making, why pay Jolie/Rogan/Liu/Cross-sized money when their parts are so secondary that you could’ve cast nobodies in the same roles without a noticeable difference? If you’ve got an answer for me, I’d love to hear it, but until then I’m just going to add it to the ever-increasing list of things I don’t understand about “the biz” (a list which includes such conundrums as why hasn’t Brad Pitt aged in the past two-and-a-half decades, why people find Sarah Jessica Parker attractive but not Lindsay Lohan, why everybody doesn’t own an iPhone, and whether or not Haley Joel Osment is actually a genetic clone of Macaulay Culkin sent in by the U.S. government as a spy to steal the fabled “Secret Scroll of Movie-Making” from James Cameron).

-Somehow I Still have $4 Left on My AMC Giftcard-
On the new-movie dossier for this week: The Incredible Hulk (aka “The Incredible to Think That They Just Made This Exact Same Movie a Couple of Years Ago, But Are Pretending Like That One Never Happened Since it Was So Dreadfully Bad Hulk”), and The Happening (aka M. Night Shyamalan’s last chance at salvaging his career). I’m excited for the new Hulk because the immensely-talented (and my favorite actor and personal hero) Edward Norton is involved, and he’s been fighting with Marvel Studios to make sure this movie comes out exactly how he wants it to (you wouldn’t like him when he’s angry). I’m less excited for The Happening, but like everybody else in the world I’ll go see it with the hope that M. Night (the “M” stands for Magic, but he didn’t want people to confuse him with the former NBA great) can repeat the critical and financial success he had with The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable (although Signs, Lady in the Water, The Village and Stuart Little hardly make a compelling case for that outcome).

=w=
Weezer released their third self-titled record this week (their sixth album overall), and like its color-coded predecessors (The Blue and Green albums), The Red Album is some of Weezer’s best stuff, and is going to do a lot to put their glasses-clad, perpetually-dejected founder/frontman and the rest of his emo-rock quartet back on the map of relevance. I like the album, is what I’m saying. It’s got the right amount of catchy vocals, the right amount of pensive sadness, and plenty of Rivers Cuomo’s trademark musical talent mixed in throughout. It doesn’t quite recapture the musical genius of the life-changing Blue Album (and at this point, it’s hard to think that any of their offerings ever will) or the grungy goodness of Pinkerton, but it’s still a good listen and definitely worth your time and money. Oh and get the Red Album Deluxe Version — those four extra songs really help add a lot more depth to the record and it’ll be cheaper than downloading them on iTunes later.

Well believe it or not, I STILL have more to say…but at this point even I am losing interest in reading this thing, so I’m going to wrap things up for the moment, grab some In N’ Out Burger, and get on with my evening. See you on the flip side, as the cool kids say.

Cheers,
Dustin

...i think that might be too many bars. And yeah, I admit this is a pretty weak photo and/or caption, but I've been busy...cut a guy some slack, ok?

*During a recent trip to the theater with my roommate, we had a lot of time to kill before our showing actually started, so I briefly poked my head in to an in-progress showing of the Sex and the City movie across the hall from our theater. And wow. I mean, good Lord, I expected it to be pretty bad — but this was just downright horrendous. I only saw about 90 seconds of it, and it was the scene where the ladies are laying out at some kind of resort and discussing waxing, and then the next scene where they go to the resort’s restaurant. I was appalled. The dialogue was weak, the acting was sub-par at best, the one liners were as jagged and lifeless as the movie’s leading ladies themselves, the jokes (if you can call them that) came off more like post-menopausal bitchiness than anything intended to be funny, and the characters’ motivation was nonexistent. Obviously I can’t fully judge a movie without seeing it in its entirety (though that’s never stopped me before), but let’s just say my first (and probably last) impressions of this film and this franchise were not particularly favorable. That said, I can see why this series and film is so popular within its demographic (well-funded middle-aged and quarter-aged women who desperately want/need a feminine mascot to rally behind), but I hope that we (as the viewing public) have gotten the taste for the sickeningly sugary and shallow SATC out of our system and are ready for something with a little more substance that everyone can enjoy. I propose margaritas. On the rocks, no salt. Now that’s a meal.

LA-isms

2008-06-04T23:31:00.000-07:00

As Abraham Lincoln once said, “cocaine’s a hell of a drug.” It’s with that in mind that I bring to you today’s educational tidbit in a segment I like to call “LA-isms.” After six months out here, I’ve noticed some things in life that are unique to Los Angeles and her residents (FYI all cities are female — except the overly-butch city of Pittsburgh, which is definitely male…my condolences to all the Penguins fans out there, by the way. As much as I dislike the Pens, I’d still rather see them win than Detroit. Oh well), and since a ton of you non-Californians are planning on visiting me over the summer (the official Californian word for non-resident is “sucker”), I want you to be educated on what people mean when they say certain things, so you’ll fit in right from the start. Let me preface this by saying that everyone who lives in Los Angeles is in the entertainment business or wants to be in the entertainment business. Even the people who swear that they’re not trying to get into the entertainment business (like doctors, firemen and the mentally challenged) are still connected in some way. I know a doctor who is also trying to be a screenwriter; a fireman who does stunt work on the side, and a mentally challenged individual who’s trying to make it as an actor (his name is Vin Diesel). With that in mind, I’ll start by translating some industry-related LA-isms and then work my way to the others…

Question: “Are you in the industry?”
Phrase 1: “I have some projects in the works”
Actual Meaning: “I don’t have any projects in the works, no agency representation, no completed screenplays, no connections in the business and no discernable talent of any sort.”

Phrase 2: “I’m Taking Meetings”
Actual Meaning: “My broke-ass, stoner roommate and I managed to crank out one 45-page, grammatically-embarrassing, inside-joke-laden script that’s basically just a Juno rip-off, and now we want someone to show up on our doorstep and offer us $20 million for it.”

Phrase 3: “I’m an actor”
Actual Meaning: “I’m a waiter who once got paid to be an extra in The Mighty Ducks 4.”

Phrase 4: “I support the strike”
Actual Meaning: “I was guilted into supporting the WGA strike in exchange for a false sense of self-righteousness, and because I was so pompous during that strike, now I’ll look like a hypocrite if I don’t support the SAG strike even though it is less necessary, will be less effective, and will needlessly put me out of work for another six months…forcing me to go back to my job as a waiter.”

Question: “Do you smoke?”
Phrase: “I’m trying to quit.”
Actual Meaning: “I started smoking in the mid-90’s because everyone said it was cool, then in the mid-2000’s, everyone suddenly changed their minds and decided that it was actually UNcool to smoke; but now I’ve been smoking for almost a decade, I’m legitimately addicted and have no intention of quitting. But I can’t tell people that because I’ll sound uncool, so instead I’m going to tell people that I’m trying to quit while simultaneously smoking just as much (or more) than I ever have until smoking becomes cool again sometime in the mid 2020’s.”

Question: “Are you guys dating?”
Phrase 1: “We’re not dating, but we are going on dates.”
Actual Meaning: “We are hooking up like mad, with an occasional trip to the movies mixed in just so we don’t feel like total whores.”

Phrase 2: “We’re dating, but we’re not exclusive.”
Actual Meaning: “I think he/she cheated on me last weekend, so I’m going to cheat on him/her this weekend out of spite, and either way the whole thing will be over a month from now with nothing to show for it except more frequent visits to my therapist.”

Phrase 3: “We’re talking.”
Actual Meaning: “We’re dating.”

Phrase 4: “He/she and I didn’t really vibe.”
Actual Meaning: “I either got shut down hardcore when I asked them out, or I’m a closet homosexual.”

…Speaking of closet homosexuals, Jimmy Fallon came by work for lunch the other day, and I just felt the need to point out that he’s significantly taller than I expected. Usually when I meet people in real life that I’ve only seen on the screen, they’re shorter than I expect, but Fallon had a good few inches on me (in more ways than one… hey-o!), so maybe you can’t judge people entirely from how they are on TV after all…although he did giggle through our entire conversation like it was an SNL skit, so I could be wrong.

Last (and probably least), I moved into my NEW APARTMENT in Redondo Beach this week (that’s the southwest side of LA for you outsiders) and it is absolutely baller. It’s a little over a mile from the beach, it’s close to a really nice movie theater, a really nice mall, a lot of my friends, and I even get my own garage. Truly, it is paradise. Pictures to come as soon as we get moved in (and internetted), and you locals should keep your eyes peeled for some kind of social gathering there in the neat future.

That’s all the big news, be sure to check back in next week for how YOU can win the opportunity to cook dinner for me for the next several years. Also, does anyone who reads this (and lives nearby) know how to sew a button back onto a shirt? I have need of those services and would be willing to trade goods or services (wink wink) in exchange for your sewing expertise. Hollaback, grrrl.

Cheers,
Dustin

...Nothing says "LA" like attending a $250 per plate charity dinner...for free. Tasty.

Indiana Jones and the Imaginary Sideburns

2008-05-28T00:21:00.001-07:00

I can’t grow facial hair. Can’t. Cannot. Not physically possible. This is frustrating for me since I’m almost constantly trying to prove how masculine and macho I am…because it destroys all my street cred when even Ryan Seacrest can grow a better goatee than mine. However, about once every 18 months or so, I manage to convince myself that I’ve finished going through puberty, and that NOW if I tried to grow something, I could. I’ve been on this 18-month cycle since I was about 16 years old, and as anyone whose known me for any amount of time will tell you, failure has become the norm in my facial-hair-related endeavors. The closest I’ve come to success was a kind of amish-looking, chinstrap thing I had going on that I grew for Isaac’s wedding last year (you can’t be in the bridal party of a Mann wedding and not at least TRY to grow something). As the many attendees of those nuptials can attest to, it wasn’t a pretty sight. From a distance it probably looked more like the night before I’d passed out at a party and forgotten to take my shoes off, and that some people had used a Sharpie marker to draw a cartoon beard around my jawline. Classy. But right on cue — like the Alzheimer’s patient I am — here I am a year and some change later, finding myself once again tempted into the realms of fuzzy scruffiness. The tempters this time? New Zealand comedy duo Flight of the Conchords, famous for their self-deprecating humour and their perpetual 5-o’clock shadow. A buddy and I are seeing them live in LA this coming Sunday, and I thought it would be an appropriate homage to how much I love their brand of tomfoolery if I grew out some tributary sideburns of my own to match theirs. Now I’ll be honest with you for a second here when I say this: I’m a good-looking man. I really am. Good bone structure (albeit a bit pointy in the shoulders area), tan complexion (now that I’m back in Cali, at least), decent bod, great fashion sense, and the deepest, sexiest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. I used to be a model back in the day, and I probably shouldn’t have quit because if I’d stuck with it I’d probably be on the cover of Orgasm Magazine right now, looking wistfully into the camera and selling out issues by the thousands (for the record, I have no idea if there’s any such thing as “Orgasm Magazine” or not, but I strongly encourage you not to find out). But even with all that going for me, my “sideburns” are shamefully unattractive. They’re all patchy, thin, poorly shaped, and I’m pretty sure one of them is about six inches longer than the other. As we all know though, I’m not one to admit defeat or give up on an idea of mine just because it looks awful (I think we all remember the red/blonde swoop haircut from a while back…I liked it, damnit all! You can all kiss my black arse), and since my love for FOTC is greater than any level of shame or embarrassment, I’m sticking with the ‘burns (that’s slang for sideburns. I’m really hip) until after the show on Sunday, and I’m asking you all to just use your imagination when you see me and pretend that there are awesome sideburns adorning both sides of my face next time we run into each other. You and I will both know that that’s not the case, obviously — but come on, do it for me. Maybe even toss a kind word my way when you see me with the ‘burns. Perhaps something like, “Your beard is good. That’s just a compliment for you — your beard. Just a compliment about your beard being good.” Or I don’t know, whatever comes to your mind at the time. Together, we can get through this difficult time in my life until I remember the horrible truth about my facial hair (or lack thereof).

I saw the new Indiana Jones over the weekend, and was pretty disappointed. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not a bad movie and you should all go see it in the theaters…it’s just not a great movie. Harrison Ford is a great actor, I really like what that Shia LaBeaouieuioaueauf kid brings to the table, the production value is great, and the score is classic. Even the effects don’t feel too overkill (except for some CGI’d prairie dogs that look about real as Jar Jar Binks on an MTV dating show). No, sadly, the biggest problem I had with this movie was the story itself. Even for a franchise that has built itself on the arcane and impossible, the storyline was just a little too much for me. It’s one thing to see a shaman rip people’s hearts out, or an ancient crusader heal himself and others with a holy grail, but I just couldn’t suspend my disbelief enough to enjoy or get into the story they cooked up for this one. That and the fact that the “near miss” factor of this movie is way beyond the acceptable limit as well. He dodged more incessant gunfire, survived more giant waterfalls, and was more unaffected by massive nuclear explosions than any person could’ve…even if that person was Indiana Jones. All that aside though, it’s still worth your $15 to see — especially if you need a halfway decent alternative to the “you go girl” estrogen-fest that the Sex and the City movie premiere will be. Although it’ll be nice to see Sarah Jessica Parker finally achieve her dream of being the least attractive person ever to get 300 million women to all cycle at the same time. You go girl.

…If you need me, I’ll be at the bar swapping out cosmos for dirty martinis instead. Ketel One vodka, extra dirty and maybe an additional olive or two. Now that’s a meal.

Cheers,
Dustin

...I'm dropping $20 just so I can see if these two get married? No thanks, we've already got plenty of crazy in this town.

I Am Ironman

2008-05-20T00:00:00.000-07:00

Who is Dustin Heveron? And why does he smell so good, but look so bad?

Basically, that’s my way of apologizing to you for taking such an abrupt hiatus from keeping your mind-stomachs filled with humorous blog entries. My life has been crazy with all the typical stuff: work, play, sleep, and meeting celebs (ask me if you want a list of who I’ve met), so I’ve neglected to write things. On the downside, that trend of blog-irregularity is probably going to continue for a while longer as I’m getting ready for a big move (not as big as the last one though), continue to nail down work stuff, and just a lot of other things that are either too complicated or too boring to discuss here. That said, let’s talk about movies!

As you may or may not know, some of my favorite things in life are loud noises, dark rooms, folding seats, and paying people $12-$18 for 2.5 hours of their company. So naturally, going to the movies is one of my favorite pastimes. I’m pretty much always in the mood for a movie, and I usually enjoy the typical lineup of summer blockbusters and industry mathematics (Will Smith + Fourth of July Weekend = $300 billion). But this summer looks even better than most summers, as there are already a ton of movies I’m pumped to see, and a host of others that I’m looking forward to a lesser degree. I won’t give you the full rundown here, but basically there is one movie that I want to see coming out every weekend from May 4th until sometime in early September. Here are the ones on that list so far:

May 2nd — Ironman
May 9th — Speed Racer
May 16th — Narnia

For the sake of getting you up to speed, I’m gonna give you a quick blurb on what I thought of each of these flicks. And don’t worry, everything’s spoiler-free if you’re concerned about me divulging the endings.

Ironman: Amazing. This is one of the best superhero movies of all time, and easily the best movie of 2008 so far (though with the new Indiana Jones and The Dark Knight both due out soon, it probably won’t hold this title for long). The effects enhance the movie without taking over or distracting you from the story, the acting is spot on for this kind of film, and aside from having a minor gripe about the ending, there was nothing I disliked about this film. If you haven’t seen it yet, go see it. Now. If you have seen it already, go see it again and maybe buy an Ironman helmet to wear to the theater this time. And make sure to stay for the credits. Wink.

Speed Racer: I wouldn’t say I was truly excited for this movie, but I was really just hoping the Wachowski Bros. would write something awesome to restore the general public’s faith in their ability. Sadly, this appears to not have happened since the movie was panned by movie-goers and movie critics alike. Oh well, maybe they can drag some extra street cred by getting Matrix 4 produced. Not likely though.

Chronicles of Narnia — Prince Caspian: A relatively slow start and some spotty acting in the first half hour made me worry that the sequel machine was going to ruin another decent franchise, but those fears were quickly abated when the rest of the movie kicked in and I was drawn into the world and characters like a kid to a wardrobe full of fur coats. It’s good. Probably not as good as the first, but this movie is a different kind of story, so that’s ok. The production value alone is worth the price of admission, and it’s probably the first family/kids movie I’ve seen in a long time that doesn’t condescend to it’s target demographic. If you didn’t like the first one, or haven’t read the books, or are a generally negative and grumpy person, then you should probably save your money and just Netflix this one. But if you’d enjoy a fun romp through a land of talking animals and are a fan of short-people jokes, then bust out your “I Liam Neeson” t-shirts and check it out. I hear you get a discount on admission if you bring your own lion.

Alright chums, that’s it for now. As always, I have a ton of things brimming just beneath the surface that I’ll be excited to share with you in the coming weeks, but until then, I hope you can survive on a steady diet of my biased movie reviews and stereotypes about centaurs (I hear they’re hung like horses. …Kids, don’t repeat that in front of your parents, I don’t need any more angry emails this week).

I might not be Ironman, but I still have buns of steel.

Cheers,
Dustin

Chipotle Costumes for Halloween? Or the original Ironman prototypes? You be the judge.

Famous Last Words

2008-05-01T11:04:00.000-07:00

Good evening, comrades. I write you on the brink of what will undeniably be my last few days among you on God’s green earth. For you see, starting tomorrow morning (Thursday, May 1st) I will begin a journey of sheer madness whose end result can only be my utter and complete demise. I’ll spare you the gruesome details, suffice it to say that the combination of starting my new job while still working my old job, plus the wide array of social activities and Mexican holidays on the horizon make for an almost omnipotent opponent. With that in mind, I thought it might be wise to put my last wishes into writing, so that way when you find my charred and disfigured remains (probably still clutching my iPhone) among the wreckage, you’ll know how I wanted things handled. And so we go.

The Last Will and Testament of Dustin Heveron:
I, Dustin Heveron, being of sound mind and body, heretofore bequeath my estate to be distributed among various parties of my choosing as outlined below.

To my beloved father and mother, Phil and Connie, I leave my secret, underground lair and adjoining launch pad. I’m not going to divulge its location or entrances, but if you can find it, the access code is 8675309…I was going through a big Tommy Tutone phase when I built it.

To my beloved father and bass-guitarist, Phil, I leave my bass. Not my bass guitar, but rather the six-foot, stuffed and shellacked fish I have hanging above my bed. His name is Danica, but he doesn’t need food anymore because he’s not alive. In addition to that, I also leave you my other bass. Again, not my bass guitar, but rather the plastic, singing novelty bass I have hanging in my shower so that I have thing to harmonize with when I’m singing in the shower or entertaining people…in the shower.

To my beloved mother, Connie, I leave all my laundry. And if you could have that done before the viewing, so I could be buried in my favorite t-shirt and jeans, that would be great. Don’t worry about the ironing though, I’m saving that for grandma and grandpa.

To my one and only beloved brother, Jared, I leave all my outstanding debts. These include (but are not limited to), the remaining payments on my 2007 Ford Focus SE, the remainder of my collegiate student loans, the balance due on the lease of my apartment and/or house, payments and past-due charges for my credit card(s), whatever money I owe to the bank in overdraft fees, and an undisclosed amount to someone I know in Vegas who will only refer to themselves as “Client X.” Mind you that you won’t actually take possession of any these things, you’ll just be responsible for paying them off in a timely manner. I figure you’ll be the best-equipped person to handle large-scale debt management in my stead, since you should be approximately seven-figures in the red by the time you read this.

To my beloved sister and youngest sibling, Alissa, I leave my entire wardrobe and clothing collection. This is actually not a bad deal since – due to my affinity for undersized and effeminate clothing – you will probably be able to fit into most everything I own and actually put my garments to their intended use.

To my beloved Nick Caruso, I leave my entire collection of alcohol; all my wines, liquors, regular and light beers, wine coolers, jello-shots, moonshine, 151, and that tank of homemade sludge from Davis Hall, spring ’04. But I’m not leaving you my stockpile of alcohol out of kindness, I’m leaving it as a final test. You see, I imagine by the time you read this, you’ll be somewhere between steps 5-8 of the 12-step program, and you’ll need something to convince you to loosen up a little bit and come back to the cool side of life. I figure leaving you my collection of approximately 47 FedEx-boxes of beer and enough liquor to open your own drive-through shop ought to do the trick.

To my beloved Jason Kientz, I leave my half of the intellectual property rights to the entire catalogue of our music. This includes (but is not limited to) The Paige Davis Song, The Isaac Mann Song, The Olsen Twins Song, and any others we have written or will write between now and my passing. I also leave my half of the copyrights to our band names: Common Identity, Second Best, The Dustin and Jason Laugh-Riot Polka-Orchestra and Kazoo Ensemble, and The Duet To-It. I also leave the total amount of my half of all our music-related earnings, a sum totaling approximately 12.5 cents.

To my beloved former roommates at Quail Hollow Drive, I leave the various assortment of smells, stains and bodily fluids that accumulated in and around the house while I lived there. Even the ones I blamed on Gatsby the dog. I also leave each of you one string of my acoustic guitar, so that in order to play it effectively, all of you have to be awkwardly huddled around it as one giant mass of fingers, hands, and arms. To Phil I leave the A and G strings, to Matt I leave the low-E and high-E strings, and to Joe I leave the B and D strings (note: Joe does not get an extra string for songs that are played in drop-D, that string remains Matt’s, regardless of tuning).

To my beloved UALC youth and staff I leave my entire collection of made-up games and wacky, church-appropriate catch phrases. These include games such as Dustin-ball, Ultimate Dustin-ball, Extreme Dustin-ball, Dustin-trivia, Dustin-frisbee, Dustin-relay, Dustin Dress-up Relay, Dustin-challenge, Dustin-tag, Dustin-Capture the Flag, and Blind Herpes Mormon Hunt.

To my beloved, loving (and probably really really hot) wife, , I leave my whole, entire heart. Not metaphorically, but literally. I have left instructions with the coroner to remove my heart, place it in a large jar of formaldehyde, let it set, then mount it on some kind of plaque or bowling trophy. I figure you can keep it on the mantle, above the fireplace, so that you can make some jokes about how my love still burns for you or something. That’ll be doubly funny if one of the kids accidentally knocks my heart into the fire when they’re cleaning.

Finally, to my beloved children, I leave my superior genetic makeup, and my social networking profiles on facebook, myspace, blogger.com, and any others that I’ve forgotten about or haven’t signed up for yet. If you could, try and change the profile pictures every few weeks or so, preferably to something really awesome, like me holding a beer or a guitar or a woman (or all three, to really show what a baller I was). Also, you should probably update the “About Me” section to something befitting my current state like, “Dead.” Or, “The least deceased in the East.” You know, to show that I’m still kicking ass and taking names, even though I’m not alive anymore. And it could kind of be a double joke if the Eastern Conference of the NBA is still pretty weak, because it would be like even a dead guy has a better shot at winning a championship then some of the Eastern Conference teams. I don’t know, just go with whatever seems funniest after I’ve died a horrible, premature death. People love to laugh.

Cheers,
Dustin

Han Solo Says: Patrón Tastes Even Better When It’s Free

2008-04-28T23:33:00.000-07:00

It’s 7:59pm on a Monday night. Do you know where your Boston Celtics are?

Wherever they are, they certainly weren’t on the court tonight. Because the top seeded, over-60-win Celtics were just beat for the second time in a row by the eighth seed Atlanta “We Hope to Win Break .500 Someday” Hawks. Mind you these Celtics are the same team that some have hailed as “the greatest team in the league…and possibly NBA history,” (quote courtesy of ESPN writer and Boston-ophile Bill Simmons). I don’t care one way or the other about Boston-area pro sports teams (although I’ll root for Tom Brady any day), but it certainly doesn’t do much to refute talks about how Eastern Conference NBA teams are less-talented than their western counterparts when the supposedly best team in basketball history drops two in a row to the 2,749th-best team in basketball history (right between the ABA’s ‘74 Virginia Squires and some guys from a pickup game in North Dakota in the summer of 1991). However, I can’t be truly unhappy after the Cavs snagged another win from the Washington “Bark > Bite” Wizards on Sunday, and are prepped to close out the series with another one back in Cleveland on Wednesday.

But enough banter, you’re here for the same reason I am: because you love me and you love hearing about me. So with that in mind, here is what you need to know to be in the now. As in, “now go get me some coffee.”

-I’m Not in it for You, Princess. I Expect to be Well Paid-
I went in for my first day of training the other day, and so far the new job looks like it’s gonna rock. For those of you who didn’t tune in last week, I recently secured a job working for Harrison Ford’s son, Ben Ford at an upscale restaurant in Culver City called Ford’s Filling Station. The people are awesome, the atmosphere is just right, and I really feel a connection with this place. And they bought me a $35 steak for dinner last week. Very cool. I’ll keep you updated as I settle in more and learn the nuances and intricacies of saying complicated phrases like “welcome to Ford’s, how many?” It’s going to be rough.

-Great Kid, Now Don’t Get Cocky-
Had a very busy week, capped off with an equally busy weekend. And it’s looking like this week is going to follow suit. I’m overlapping my last week at UCLA Medical with some training shifts at Ford’s, so that is going to make for one very tired Dustin starting Thursday night. But oh yeah, I just remembered, I’m a baller and I don’t need sleep because I kick ass, so it’s not gonna be a challenge. Whew, good thing I thought of that ahead of time.

-Traveling Through Hyperspace Ain’t Like Dusting Crops, Boy-
I finally got a haircut from a stylist named Rhonda over the weekend (who is as talented at haircutting as she is portly. Which is very, if you didn’t know). I asked her to give me a shorter, more summery haircut than the one I had, and she kind of took that to mean that I wanted something that if I got drafted into the Army tomorrow, I’d fit right in. My hair is short, is what I’m saying. But in her defense, it did feel light and summery when I was on the beach, and I probably won’t need to get it cut again before I visit home and have Irene do it properly.

-So What Do You Think? A Princess Like You and a Guy Like Me-
I saw that movie Forgetting Sarah Marshall with a few people last night, and I must say, it was decent. Which was better than I was expecting. By far the best character in the movie was the self-centered, oblivious British rockstar character. He was more of a second-tier character, but the movie would not have been the same without him. The second best part of the movie was costar Mila Kunis. Longtime fans of That 70’s Show (not I) will probably already know this, but Mila Kunis is really really hot. I don’t know if I never noticed because she’s the voice of the very un-hot Meg on Family Guy, or if I overlooked her because I thought That 70’s Show was anT abomination, but the fact of the matter is: she is really really hot. There was a bit too much male nudity for me to give the movie an A+, but that British dude’s performance coupled with the fact that Mila Kunis is really really hot pretty much make the movie worth the price of admission right there. Also, Mila Kunis is really really hot, you guys. Seriously.

-She May Not Look Like Much, But She’s Got it Where it Counts, Kid-
Ok, so this isn’t interesting, but too bad, I’m telling you anyway. On nice, sunny California days, sometimes I like to fire up the ceiling fan in my room to help circulate some air. But for some unknown reason, my ceiling fan doesn’t work. Don’t get me wrong, it turns on, it spins the blades, it even makes all the appropriate ceiling-fan-related noises. But it just doesn’t generate any wind or breeze or cooling sensation at all. I’ve tried reversing the rotation on the fan, in case it was set wrong, I’ve tried it at all the different speed settings, but nothing helps. All my ceiling fan is really good for is taking the all the dust that’s been collecting on it since the 60’s and evenly distributing said dust around the room.

Ok, I’m off to catch a show at The UCB Theater (using acronyms gives me a false sense of superiority), so I’m outie for now. And remember, don’t drink expensive tequila unless someone else is paying for it. Conversely, if you’re a random stranger and you offer to buy me and my friends a round of fancy tequila at the bar to prove what a badass you are, really all you’re doing is spending $85 to have us mock you all night.

Cheers,
Dustin

We already have a lime tree, now all we need is a tequila tree to go along with it...

Gang Green is Here to Stay!

2008-04-22T17:07:00.000-07:00

Hello, friend! If you’re anything like me, you’re an attention-starved 6’2” Caucasian male that weighs a little over 150lbs and has a love for asparagus that’s almost as odd as the matching, circular birthmarks on my upper chest (I’ve just been informed that in the world of medical science, these are referred to as “nipples.” Fascinating). As a fellow graduate from a small, private liberal arts college, I’m sure you’re as excited as I am that Earth Day is finally here, and that we can finally do our part to help the environment. By planting a tree. Yep, that’s all you have to do. Planting one small sapling is all is all it takes to reverse the effects of hundreds of years of modern industry that has ravaged our planet – not to mention the irreversible damage that each of us does every single day, simply by continuing to exist. Sounds wacky, I know, but all it takes is planting that one tree, or riding the bus for one day, or blah blah blah…I’m just kidding. No one gives a rip about the environment, and Earth Day is for suckers. My contribution to my grandchildren’s future is going to be paying for a lifetime of swimming lessons for them in advance. That way, when the polar icecaps finally go all Wicked-Witch of the West on us, my progeny will be the ones who can hold their breath the longest and talk to dolphins, while your guys’ grandkids are gonna be the chumps who are drinking their own urine out of a Brita filter, Waterworld style. There are billboards scattered all over LA telling us to leave our cars at home today and not to drive anyplace. Um yeah, I don’t know what day it is on your “Girls of the Greenhouse” calendar, but out here in the real world, it’s Tuesday, and that’s a weekday, so I’m driving my car to work. End of debate. If you want to pay me what I would’ve made at work to stay home for the day instead, or call my boss and explain why I was two-and-a-half hours late because I took the bus; then we’ll talk. But other than that, I’ll see you on the 405 along with the hundred thousand other heartless bastards out there who care more about contributing to their 401k than to their children’s future environment. Cheers.

Now that we’ve cleared that up, on to things that people actually care about.

-It’s Business Time-
If you have ever laughed, smiled, smirked, grinned, giggled, guffawed, chortled – or are ever planning on doing any of those things at some point in the future – then do yourself a favor and go buy the Flight of the Conchords CD which is in stores as of today. I’m a mere 11 minutes from sprinting out of the office to my nearest Barnes & Noble to pick up my own copy. If you’re not a total masochist, you’ll purchase season 1 of their equally-hilarious HBO sitcom as well. Laugh your arse off, amuse your friends with bad impressions of New Zealanders’ accents, and behave pretentiously to your friends who think “According to Jim” is a funny show.

-The Humans Are Dead-
If you still want to ease your Earth Day-related guilt, maybe try eating at Chipotle – they’re known for killing animals and pinto beans in as environmentally-friendly way as possible. And I’m pretty sure their paper products are printed on material that’s entirely recycled from the ashes of the Native Americans whom we killed in order to colonize this great country of ours.

-Leggy Blonde-
Finally, in my last piece of mood-elevating advice for the day, go buy Thrice’s new CD, The Alchemy Index, Vols. III & IV (Vols. I & II came out late last year, but are also worth picking up). Even if you haven’t been a fan of their stuff in the past, let me assure you that everyone can find something they like about The Alchemy Index, and it’s great music to simultaneously reflect upon your life with, or rock out if you looking to get pumped up. If you buy it and aren’t 100% satisfied, just come track me down and I’ll switch out your copy with Ashlee Simpson’s latest release – since you clearly have no taste in music and probably wouldn’t know the difference. We’ll save Thrice’s art-rock masterpiece for someone who doesn’t know all the words to the song “Get Low.”

That’s it for now, see you little rascals in the future.
Dustin

So Basically I Have a Mullet

2008-04-21T22:02:00.000-07:00

…No time for preamble today, there’s too much good stuff, so let’s get to it!

-New Warden-
The biggest piece of updatedness I have for you is that Friday, May 2nd will officially be my last day at UCLA Medical. And no, I’m not simply predicting the day that my boss will finally fire me for “one too many herpes jokes,” I actually have another (much better, for me) job lined up to replace this one. Starting the first week of May and continuing on until I get fired for making “one too many herpes jokes,” I will be working for LA-based restaurateur Benjamin Ford (Harrison Ford’s son) at his upscale Culver City restaurant, Ford’s Filling Station. You don’t have to be Dr. Phil to realize that even though the lovely folks at UCLA Medical were wonderful people, that job was simply not an ideal fit for me or my schedule. Working at Ford’s will not only pay better, but will also offer me better hours and much more flexibility and fun compared to the more rigid world of corporate health care. The people there are awesome, the food is amazing (and expensive…I’m glad I don’t have to pay to eat there), the location is ideal, and my boss is a total hottie. I’m pretty pumped to get back to my roots as the no-responsibility ass-clown that people know me for being.

-Movin’ On Up, to the…Westside?-
In other news, our landlady is losing her house (either to foreclosure or some overkill Vegas betting) at the end of May, which means that my roommates and I have to find a new place to live starting June 1st. This kind of sucks for our landlady, but is actually pretty ideal for the roomies and I, since we were all looking for someplace better, cleaner, and closer to the beach to live starting in the summer. The only slight downside is that now, instead of us trying to find a new place by June, we HAVE to find a new place by June — so it adds a little pressure, but I’m not really worried. We don’t really know how things are gonna shakedown yet, except for that we all want to live with people we know and be somewhere on the Westside of town (near the beach, preferably). I’ll keep you posted as our options reveal themselves.

-What Happens in Vegas, Stains in Vegas-
If you checked my facebook at all over the weekend, or were any of the hundreds of people I called to kill time on the five-and-a-half hour drive home, you know I spent the past few days visiting a friend in Vegas. I’ll spare you the gory details, but I came out even on the trip, had a lot of fun doing normal Vegas things (getting dressed up, hitting the strip, etc.), and had an equal amount of fun doing more abnormal Vegas things (hiking in Lake Mead and Red Rock Canyon, relaxing, etc.). But the most fun was spending the weekend with a friend from back in the Midwest, and getting to just kick back and catch up with an old buddy. An old buddy who made about $500 more than I did on the trip. Jerk.

-This Guy Loves the Wine…and Gold-
I like the Cleveland Cavaliers. I mean, really like. You could even say that I LIKE like them. But even though I’ve been to several Cavs games live and in-person at Quicken Loans Arena (aka The Q…and the namesake of the house me and the fellas used to share on Quail Hollow Dr. in Hilliard, Ohio), acquired plenty of Cavaliers swag, ogled the Cavs Girls on numerous occasions, and watched the Wine-and-Gold on TV countless times; I realized that my fandom had hit a new (and potentially unhealthy) level of addiction when I found myself cheering on the Cavs from the bar of a Las Vegas-based Chili’s at 9:30am on a Saturday morning. Even in the face of what will almost certainly be a second-round elimination from the playoffs (maybe third if we’re really lucky and the Pistons keep laying eggs like they did against the Sixers this weekend), I couldn’t help but get way too excited about LBJ & Co. laying the smackdown on a weaker (dare I say, overrated, Deshawn Stevenson?) Washington Wizards team. Seeing the Wiz lose by 30 tonight was even awesomer as King James pretty much put on a clinic on how to shut down a D.C.-based pro basketball team. A fortnight from now, my favorite small forward and his posse might be hanging up their jerseys until next season, but that’s what makes the playoffs so great: right now, in this moment, the Cavs are in the hunt for a championship just as much as Boston or LA; and as a fan, that’s all you should ever need to get excited about your team (…unless you’re a Bengals fan, in which case I’d settle for just ending the season above .500 for once).

-Credit Where Credit is Due-
A few posts ago, I relayed my thoughts on defining relationships via facebook as a guide to the clueless masses (that’s you). Now, not even twelve days later, almost a dozen of my friends have gone from “single” or “hidden” to “in a relationship.” Obviously I can’t take full credit (my good friends Cupid and Jack Daniels helped quite a bit, too), but I just want to take a second and give myself some serious props for hooking my peeps up with the pertinent information they needed to make mature, well-informed decisions about who to love. Great job, me. You guys can all buy me a round next time we go out (or at the very least name your first child after me. No? Well how about middle name, then? No one cares about those anyway, and “Dustin” goes with just about any other name — guy or girl! Don’t make up your mind yet, just think about it and get back to me). So with that in mind, I’d like to offer up a toast. A toast to me. As the famous poet/philosopher Sir William Smith once said:

“Let’s make a toast to never lie, steal, cheat or drink.
But if you must lie, lie about your age (it almost always helps your situation to be a few years older or younger than you actually are).
If you must steal, steal from your family, friends and acquaintances…they’ll be less likely to press charges if you get caught.
If you must cheat, cheat the blind, the homeless or any other sect of people who would have difficulty identifying you in a police lineup.
And if you must drink, drink tequila. No sense destroying your liver and/or your future just you can knock back a few Mike’s Hard Lemonades, right? You don’t want people to think you’re a wuss, after all. On second thought, better make it a double.”

…With insights like that at his disposal, it’s no wonder they crowned him the Prince of all Bel-Air.

Cheers to me,
Dustin

Not a bad place for a vacation, says I.

Wally Szczerbiak is a Good Looking Man When He Scores 28pts

2008-04-17T19:25:00.000-07:00

Howdy! Sorry I’ve been so lax in posting for you guys, I’ve had a very busy week or so, and it’s not looking to let up anytime soon. On a related note, I have a semi-big announcement coming about a couple of things…but I’m working on trying to pack for Vegas this weekend among other things, so the news will have to wait until I get back. In the meantime, please enjoy this filler post.

A lot of you have asked me, on several different occasions, “Dustin, what exactly do you do for work?” I usually try and deflect the question by firing off a few quotes from Office Space, or changing the subject or something; but the truth is, there’s no real way to explain what I do for work by just using words. So to help you grasp all the nuanced intricacies of my job, I’ve decided to use a couple of visual aids. The first is this:

+Picture taken at 8:03am Tuesday morning+

As you can see, this is a bucket of rubber bands. This rubberband bucket (rubbucket?) was here on my desk long before I started working at UCLA Medical Systems HR, and in all likelihood, will be here long after I’ve lost my job due to larceny accusations and a pending sexual harassment lawsuit. How this rubbucket came to be here, why this desk’s previous owner felt the need to keep such an expansive collection of rubberbands when he or she clearly never used them, and why they didn’t take them along when they left if they felt so strongly about rubberbands; are all questions that I can only hypothesize an answer to. What I do know, however, is how these rubberbands represent the amount and depth of work that is required on me during a typical day at UCLA. Let’s say each of these rubberbands represents one minute of time where I don’t have any work to do at my job. And I’m not talking about times where I have work, but am procrastinating it (and I’m also not counting the 60-90 minutes I take for lunch on any given day). I’m just talking about the minutes that I spend at my desk with nothing — literally nothing — to do that’s work-related. Now let’s say that for each of those workless minutes, that I do something with the rubberband to mark each unproductive minute. Fast forward into my day a few hours, and this is the result:

+Picture taken at 2:47pm Tuesday afternoon+

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. This is no camera trick or cheap prop, this is that exact same pile of rubberbands, in that exact same rubbucket, approximately seven hours after I took the first picture. This would be amusing — almost funny, even — if I didn’t have a little over two hours left in my day at this point (keeping in mind that I also took an hour and a half lunch consisting of Chipotle, Starbucks and Pinkberry…all of the essential food groups).

So the next time you’re sitting at work and thinking about how boring your job is, or about how boring the class you’re in is, I want you to envision this rubberband-ball, and know that out there, on the fourth floor of an eighteen-story skyscraper in northwest Los Angeles, there sits a young lad who is even more bored and getting even less out of his job/class than you. And I want you to think on that, and smile, and count your blessings. Then I want you to bounce between espn.com, facebook, and cnn.com the rest of the day like I do. It will be like we’re conquering the world of boredom together, one workless-rubberband-minute at a time, nine hours a day, five days a week, at six dollars an hour.

Cheers,
Dustin

P.S. Every morning on the way into work, I spend the first main chunk of my time sitting in traffic on Interstate 10. During rush hour traffic, the 10 is kind of like an abyss: upon entering, you immediately lose track of how long you’ve been there, how you got there, and you’re instantly filled with a general hopelessness that there’s no escape or that you’ll never know any reality outside of coarse pavement framed by an endless sea of brakelights. This is the second-worst part of my commute. The worst part of my drive comes during the half-mile interchange where the 10-W merges with the 405-N. For those of you unfamiliar with how this intersection works, this interchange takes about three lanes from the 10 West, and T-bones it into about five lanes of the 405 North. I say “about” because during this particular stretch of freeway, there are no — none, zip, zero — lane lines. That’s no typo. In fact, there’s nothing to indicate that there ever have, or ever will be any kind of lane indicator during this multi-freeway merge. Furthermore, the traffic on the respective on-ramps loosens up enough for you to get going to about 60-75mph — just enough to do some real damage when you inevitably lose control and fly into the median and/or your fellow commuters. Add the extra two lanes of traffic merging in from the 2 (Santa Monica Blvd.), and you have yourself what is literally the deadliest half mile of pavement this side of the Rio Grande. Now picture yourself going from the braindead monotony of the 10, instantly into the frenzied, uncontrolled chaos of the 405 at 7am, with the sun directly in your eyes the whole time. Suffice it to say, I don’t drink coffee nearly as much as I used to — because after I’ve survived that gauntlet, I’ve got enough adrenaline pumping through my system in the morning to wrestle a coked-up hippopotamus and win. According to scientific research done in the same field, I’d have to drink 17 cups of coffee, nine espressos, and do three shots of tequila each morning to get the same effect. And it doesn’t make me urinate nearly as much. So the moral of the story is: if you’re trying to give up coffee drinking, your best bet is to load up on car insurance, move to southern California, and spend 45-60 minutes trying to get yourself killed on the freeway twice a day. I did, and I’m in the best shape of my life!

Sharing the Laughter and Love, as the Seavers Might Say

2008-04-09T23:37:00.000-07:00

If you’re not married, your lovelife probably isn’t perfect. If you are married, then your lovelife definitely isn’t perfect. As someone whose IQ score soars well into the double-digits, my family and friends have always found me to be the perfect confidant and counselor for the trials and tribulations that arise in their lives and loves. It’s with this in mind that I’ve decided to publicly answer some of the oft-repeated questions that have been asked of me over the years. Today’s question comes to us in a letter from Eleanor Rigby of Boise, Idaho:

“Dear Dustin,
I was with my boyfriend recently, picking up the rice in a church where we had just attended a wedding, and I wondered, when’s the appropriate time to change my facebook (and less importantly, myspace) relationship status from ‘single’ to ‘in a relationship’? We haven’t been going out for a terribly long time (just about eight weeks or so), and we’re definitely a long ways off from classifying ourselves a serious relationship, but we’re also past the point where we’re truly single (i.e. neither of us would consider going on a date with someone else). So how should we be classified by social-networking-website standards? Are we still single? In a relationship? Is it complicated? I need your advice!

On behalf of all the lonely people,
-E.R.”

Well Eleanor, let me preface this by saying that no two couples (or relationships) are exactly alike, and each couple should discuss and use whatever relationship status-setting makes them feel most comfortable about their relationship. That said, here are some general guidelines to help bolster the lines of communication between you and your significant other.

Single:
This should be everyone’s default status, and is acceptable to use from dates 0-8 or any relationship less than five weeks old. As a “single” you’re free to date whoever you want, whenever you want, in whatever quantities you want. But, while your status is single, you also waive your right to not be hit-on and/or flirted-with by your peers, friends, teachers, homeless people, family members and various government officials (I’m looking at you, Spitzer).

Hidden Status:
This is where you take down your relationship status entirely, so that it doesn’t even show that part of your profile. Though most people assume this means you are taken — or at the very least aren’t looking for anything romantic — the handful of people who have an entirely delusional and unfounded/unreciprocated crush on you will still assume they have a shot at dating you if this is your status.

In A Relationship (no name):
This is the next level of progression, and is ideal for dates number 8-20 or any relationship that is between seven weeks and three months in length. It is mostly used as a deterrent to other would-be suitors, but is also ideal for people who don’t want everyone on the internet “all up in their business,” or judging them for who they’re dating. It also applies to people that are dating someone who doesn’t have a facebook (the poor schmucks who only have myspace don’t know what they’re missing. If you’re going to enter into a relationship with someone who is a myspace-only person, you should try your absolute hardest to convert them to facebook before you make anything official. I know, it sounds petty now, but trust me, this can be the exact kind of sticking point that can lead to an ugly divorce 20 or 30 years down the road. I’ve seen it happen a million times…poor schmucks).

In A Relationship (showing other person’s name):
This is the biggest social-networking relationship step yet; it’s a public and legally-binding declaration of your commitment to one another, and is perfect for any relationship between three months and three years in length. At this point in the relationship, it’s pretty standard etiquette to also change your “Looking For” section to just friendship — and maybe networking, too — but nothing more than those two, max. It should also be noted that anytime you see two women who are in this kind of relationship status, it almost always means that they are either recently-single and/or mildly-insecure, so they use this as a means of overcompensating and feeling better about themselves. They also manage to convince themselves that they are the first pair of women to have ever come up with this idea, and that it is hilarious and original. Sadly, this is not the case. Unless both chicks are hot.

Engaged:
If you’ve been dating someone for longer than three and a half or four years (mind you, this count doesn’t start till after you graduate from high school), then you should be engaged. Or at the very least, pre-engaged. A standard-length engagement is somewhere between 8-18 months. This gives the bride the requisite three weeks to make all the arrangements and plan the wedding, accompanied by the mandatory one year or so to constantly complain that “things will never be ready in time,” “I’ll never fit into my wedding dress,” and that she has “had to plan this whole [expletive] wedding by her [expletive] self because she can’t get any [expletive] help from anybody” (if you are married and you took offense to any of that, then you are the exact kind of bride I am describing).

Married:
If you’re on facebook and you’re older than 34 years old, this should be your relationship status, regardless of whether you’re actually married or not. Because if you’re in your mid-to-upper 30’s and you’re single AND you spend your free time on facebook, then you are a pedophile, plain and simple. Switching your status to “married” will prolong the amount of time it takes for the feds to hunt you down and lock you up for being the sick, pokemon-loving son of a B that you are. Note: the same tirade from the previous paragraph also applies to any two obviously-straight women who are listed as married to one another.

It’s Complicated:
This is not an actual relationship status, and everybody knows it. Anyone who legitimately tries to pass this off as their relationship status is either,
A) in the process of breaking up, and it’ll be changed to single or hidden within a week,
B) in the process of getting back together, and it’ll be changed to hidden or “in a relationship” within a week, or
C) are cheating on their partner and/or are in a long distance relationship, but don’t want to fully commit. This is also the preferred status of overly-emo kids who think that they’re the first people in the history of all mankind to ever experience unrequited love or a bad breakup. Look for lots of black-and-white profile pictures from these kinds of people, as well as depressing song lyrics in their “About Me” sections.

…And that just about covers it. I hope this guide has provided some helpful insight for everyone, and remember: it isn’t true love until it’s been posted on one or more social networking websites. Just like the Bible says.

Until next time I solve all your problems,
Dustin “I Put the Sing in Single” Heveron

...ladies? Surprisingly, this man is still available...

Cowabunga!!!

2008-04-07T22:58:00.000-07:00

A lot of people talk about how America’s youth are “our future” and some paragon of wisdom and talent, and how they are gonna be way better with technology and all this other stuff about how great the children of America are, but I just wanted to take this opportunity to reel in everyone’s expectations a little bit and point out that these kids — though filled with potential — still have their flaws and shortcomings.

Take something as simple as sharing, for instance. If you came over to me and asked to borrow something of mine like a DVD or a Kleenex or something, I would totally let you (I would probably even let you keep the Kleenex). But I was at work today, and there was this kid who had all these Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figures that he was playing while he was waiting for his mom who was in a meeting or something. And even though he looked to be about four or five years old (definitely old enough to know how to share) and had plenty of action figures to share (at least six or seven different ones), he wouldn’t share with anyone, no matter how much I asked or how politely. And it’s like, dude, you only have two hands, so you couldn’t possibly be playing with more than two of them at once, at the maximum. But I’m telling you, this kid wasn’t hearing any of the great logic I was pointing out to him, he was being totally stubborn for pretty much no reason. So next time that some hippie, bleeding-heart liberal chump tells you that “America’s children represent everything that’s great about the future of our country,” you thump your pointer finger in their chest a few times and tell them that these kids don’t deserve any of our time or respect until they learn the basics of the modern, civilized conduct fitting for an adult. And that if the little brats can’t master something as basic as letting me use their Donatello for even five seconds to do a freaking awesome superkick, then maybe they deserve all the global warming and melted icecaps and extinct species that we’re gonna leave for them. So there.

In other news, I saw Leatherheads last night, and I’ll sum it up with the following: George Clooney is an amazing actor, a decent director, and an average writer. However, he is an awful actor/director/writer. If you really can’t wait till this Thursday for a new episode of The Office and really need to get your John Krasinski fix, then see it. Otherwise, rent it (and hope they photoshop someone prettier in over top of Renee Zellweger. She’s gross).

There’ll be an update of decent significance in the next day or two, so keep your internet close at hand and be on the lookout.

Peace, love and rock!
Dustin

Remember, sharing is caring!

The Cardinal is a Horrible Mascot (You Feel Me, Otterbein-ers?)

2008-04-03T21:08:00.000-07:00

As you may or may not know (or care), I spend my roughly one-hour commute each morning listening to Colin Cowherd on ESPN Radio’s LA affiliate (that’s 710ESPN to you SoCal-ers), and today one of the main topics was the recent “scandal” about some pictures of Matt Leinart throwing a party at his home in Phoenix, AZ (home of one of the NFL’s worst franchises and birthplace of my little sister…you decide which is more impressive). One of the shortcomings of radio (even “HD” radio) is that so far it’s just sounds — although mark my words, someday they’ll invent something that can transmit pictures in the same way; right through the air to your home, like magic. So all I knew about these pictures initially was the description I heard from Colin & Co. on his radio show this morning. They used pretty much every tabloid buzzword/adjective to describe these photos (such as “scandalous” to “appalling” to “sexually explicit” and everything in between), so naturally when I got into to work today, the first thing I did was hop on espn.com and check out the photos for myself. And I was stunned. Shocked. Horrified. …But not for the reasons you might think. No, I was taken aback at these pictures not because of how “wildly outrageous” there were, but rather for how TAME they were. I figured for the media and the NFL to be making such a giant deal out of these things, that they would’ve been really incriminating — but to the contrary, they’re essentially just normal pictures of people at a party. One is of Matt Leinart sitting in a hot tub with three or four average-looking chicks (sidenote: remind me to talk to ML about his standards — you’re a starting NFL quarterback now, Matty, you can’t be seen around any group of girls that averages less than a 8.6 on the traditional 10-point scale. You think Tom Brady got to the SuperBowl by dating cheap sorority girls? Of course not. Now go get yourself a supermodel like a professional would), another is of him holding a beer-consumption-device for a chick (I’m told these are called “beerbongs." We never had them when I was in college. Honest, mom and dad), and the third is of Nick Lachey awkwardly standing kind of near a different chick (any party where Nick Lachey is the second-most-famous guy in attendance is probably not one that qualifies as “wildly outrageous”).

And that was it. Just three relatively normal party pictures, taken by a 24-year-old millionaire and a few of his friends. Now I’m no millionaire, but I have far more incriminating pictures than that floating all over the internet — in most cases, because I put them there myself. So if those pictures of Leinart “cement his status as a bad-boy party animal,” then I’m Gene Simmons, Wilt Chamberlin and Captain Kangaroo all rolled into one (don’t let Capt’s outside appearance fool you, he knows how to party hard). The point is, our culture spends all of it’s time teaching our youth and teens that their only goals in life should be to A) make a lot of money, B) make a lot of friends, and then C) once you acquire both, go nuts! Think about it. Why does a song like “Party Like a Rockstar” (and that less-creative song of the same theme by Nickelback) get made, and then become wildly popular? Because that’s exactly what we want: to party like rockstars without responsibility or consequences. Can you imagine a song called “Go Out to A Poetry Reading Then Spend a Quiet Evening Politely Discussing It, Making Sure to Get Eight or Nine Full Hours of Sleep Each Night” ever making it in to the Billboard Top 40? Of course not…and it’s not because I didn’t try, believe me. So Matt Leinart — after a lifetime of having this line of thinking seared into his brain — does exactly what the song(s) suggest: he gets wildly rich, then parties like a rockstar (or pro athlete in this case). And what happens when photographic evidence of a twenty-something millionaire living like a twenty-something millionaire surfaces? Leinart gets blasted by every sports writer, radio host and paperboy in the continental United States (they’ve yet to discover radio waves in Hawaii and Alaska).

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not encouraging excessively illegal/immoral behavior, and I’m not suggesting that Matt shouldn’t have been home taking care of his eighteen month old son instead of doing body shots off of Nick “98º is the Poor Man’s N’Sync” Lachey; I’m simply pointing out that we, as a society, are spending WAY too much time and energy deploring Matt Leinart for taking a picture with some girls when meanwhile there are guys out there like Pacman Jones (awaiting trial for, among other things: aggravated assault, manslaughter, conspiracy to commit, and several other felonies) and Chris Henry (arrested on FIVE separate occasions since 2005 for everything from gun-possession to drug running to beer-bottling a man’s winshield) who barely get a bi-line on espn.com’s front page. And then to top it all off, I get to hear from everyone that Matt Leinart is “the bad role model of the NFL.” I don’t have kids yet, so I can’t say for sure, but I’m pretty certain that if I had to decide who was the worst NFL role model for my children, and my options were:
1) a guy who keeps military-grade guns and hard drugs in the trunk of his car,
2) a guy who pistol-whips strippers after “making it rain,” or
3) a guy who one time decided to drink a beer using a funnel and a hose instead of a cup,
— I think I’d feel safest about option 3. And that list doesn’t even include a certain canine enthusiast that used to play for the Atlanta Falcons.

To wrap this rant, let me just add that I think we can (and should) challenge ourselves as a society to tackle bigger and more salient issues than the drinking/partying habits of a millionaire who’s three years over the legal drinking age.

Matt Leinart, this Bud’s for you. Cheers.

If Leinart's in trouble for those pics, then this will probably be Exhibit A in the trial to lock me up for life.

April's Fool

2008-04-01T18:45:00.000-07:00

This may come as a shock to many of you, given my naturally ridiculous outlook on life, but I really don’t like April Fool’s Day much. Mostly because when I make a “joke,” it’s typically something like a bad pun about an obscure movie or TV show or something. No one laughs except me, and we move on with our day — no one gets hurt. But on April Fool’s Day, it’s like the world’s definition of a “joke” goes from being something starting with “a priest and a rabbi walk into a bar,” and transforms into “which of my friends can be the biggest A-hole.” If I open a bottle of ketchup and it explodes all over me, I don’t think “gee, what a great joke,” I think: “what the hell, why did Kevin cause a bottle of ketchup to explode all over my clothes?!” That’s not April Fool’s Day, that’s “Kevin’s a D*** Day.” Also, I don’t really get where the “fool” aspect of it comes into play. When I put a spoonful of sugar on my oatmeal, and it turns out to be salt because someone switched it out for April Fool’s Day, is that supposed to make me the “fool” for trusting that there was sugar in the sugar container? Or is the guy who switched it out supposed to be a fool like a court-jester for having pulled the prank? Because I’m pretty sure if any court jester had pulled that kind of trick on a king back in the day, the king would’ve had him decapitated quicker than you can say “jay slash kay.” Regardless of the origin, I suggest that we — as the civilized group of humans that we are — put an end to the low-brow, low-class, tasteless humor that April Fool’s Day represents and take a stand for dignity and honour (it’s extra classy to spell words the British way).

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go take a dump in a bucket and hide it in my roommate’s room before he finds out that I switched out his milk with a jug of rotten milk I’ve been hiding under the radiator until today.

...just another one of the hilarious jokes I plan on playing on one of my friends today.

The Second Trimester Begins

2008-03-31T18:26:00.000-07:00

A wise monk by the name of Hugh Downs once said, “the best way to apologize for any wrongdoing is to simply pretend it never happened in the first place.” So rather than apologize for not updating this guy in almost two months, I’m simply going to ignore my negligence and continue as if I’ve done nothing wrong. So far, so good.

In a little more than a week, I will have been in LA for three full months. That means in the coming days, I’ll be starting my second trimester as a resident of southern California. Obviously, I’m curious about what to expect in the next trimester, and I’m sure you are, too. In order to put myself (and you) at ease, I’ve done a little research on what we can expect during the second trimester of LA living. For the ease of the reader, I’ve changed all the occurrences of the phrase “the baby” to the much more interesting descriptor, “Dustin.”

Week 13: You can't feel it yet, but Dustin can move in a jerky fashion — flexing the arms and kicking the legs. This week, Dustin might even be able to put a thumb in his mouth. Dustin’s eyelids are fused together to protect his developing eyes. Tiny ribs may soon appear.

Week 14: The effect of hormones becomes apparent this week. For boys, the prostate gland is developing.

Week 15: Dustin's skin starts out nearly transparent. Eyebrows and scalp hair may make an appearance.

Week 16: Sixteen weeks into your journey, Dustin weighs a bit less than 3 ounces. He can now make a fist. Dustin’s eyes are becoming sensitive to light. More developed facial muscles may lead to various expressions, such as squinting and frowning

Week 17: Fat stores begin to develop under Dustin’s skin this week. The fat will provide energy and help keep Dustin warm.

Week 18: As the nerve endings from Dustin’s brain "hook up" to the ears, he may be startled by loud noises. Dustin can swallow this week, too.

Week 19: Dustin’s delicate skin is now protected with a pasty white coating called vernix. As Dustin’s hearing continues to improve, he may pick up your voice in conversations — although it's probably hard to hear clearly through the amniotic fluid and protective paste covering Dustin's ears.

Week 20: You've probably begun to feel Dustin’s movements. Dustin now has thin eyebrows, hair on the scalp and well-developed limbs.

Week 21: Although the placenta provides nearly all of Dustin's nourishment, Dustin will begin to absorb small amounts of sugar from swallowed amniotic fluid.

Week 22: This week, taste buds are starting to form on Dustin's tongue, and Dustin's brain and nerve endings can process the sensation of touch. Dustin may experiment by feeling his or her face or anything else within reach.

Week 23: The testes begin to descend from the abdomen this week.

Week 24: Sense of balance develops. Thanks to a fully developed inner ear, which controls balance, Dustin may have a sense of whether he is upside-down or right side up. You may notice a regular sleeping and waking cycle.

Week 25: Dustin’s hands are now fully developed, although the nerve connections to the hands have a long way to go.

Week 26: The hair on Dustin's head is longer and more plentiful. Although Dustin's eyes are fully developed, they may not open for another two weeks.

Week 27: This week marks the end of the second trimester. Dustin's lungs, liver and immune system are continuing to mature — and he has been growing like a weed.

There you have it. I know I learned a lot, and I’m really excited about some of the things I have to look forward to (especially that sense of balance!) in the coming weeks.

I promise to have a more legitimate update for you starting tomorrow, as the clamor for what I’ve been up to has risen to an all-time high. The masses have spoken, and they want more Dustin (and really, who wouldn’t?), so I must deliver.

Until tomorrow,
Dustin

This is where babies come from: the beach.

It's Adjective Tuesday!

2008-02-05T20:09:00.000-08:00

Whether you like your Tuesdays Fat, Super, or SuperFat (personally I prefer Black Tuesday: October 29th, 1929; the day of the Great Stock Market Crash of 1929…good times), there’s no denying one simple fact about this magical Tuesday: you are on the internet with too much free time on your hands.

I know it’s been awhile since you’ve heard from me, but it’s because I put myself on blog-writing probation out here until I found a job. The theory being that if I had let myself get distracted with less-important things (such as blogging, facebooking, etc.), that I wouldn’t devote enough time to the more-important things (such as finding a job, paying rent, eating, etc.). BUT, I am glad to say that I have found gainful employment out here (much harder than it sounds), which means I can get back to blogging my heart out to the six (or fewer) of you who are out there reading this! Hooray! High fives all around!

So with all that tomfoolery out of the way, on with the updates!

-I Left a Corporate Job in a Cubicle for a Corporate Job in a Cubicle…in a Skyscraper-
I’ll kick off the updates with info about my aforementioned employer. I work in the HR dept. (that’s Human Resources department to those of you still in school) of UCLA Medical (that’s University of California: Los Angeles to those of you still in winter) as a lackey to the HR Director (that’s slavemaster to those of you still in the free world). I’ll spare you the boring details of my job, but the basic idea is this: UCLA Medical is building a new hospital opening in April-ish, and between now and then they’re hiring a ton of new people to work in said hospital. My job is to help the HR Director lady make sure all these new people get oriented properly and that they are fooled into thinking their jobs are much more fun than they actually are. All things considered, it’s a pretty sweet gig, with an even sweeter view overlooking West LA from the eighth floor of a 100,000-story building (according to my best guess). The downside is that it is literally on the opposite corner of the city from where I live, which means I’ll have about a seventeen-hour commute every morning to get to work. But I suppose that’s better than being homeless (ask me if I still feel that way after driving it for three months).

-Oh, Excuse Me, But I think You Dropped This Name-
Look, I’ve tried to fight it for years, but I’m just going to stop pretending and embrace it: I’m a Name-Dropper. I know it’s like the most annoying thing in the world, but I can’t help it. It doesn’t matter how unimportant or unknown the person is, if I run into Damian Lewis (the main guy in HBO’s Band of Brothers, props to T-Gates for spotting him) at The Apple Store, or meet a girl who was in Wedding Crashers at a frat party, or have a sitdown with the creators/writers/actors from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, I’m going to tell you. I’ll do my best to try and kick this habit, but until then, expect me to base 100% of my self-esteem on how many D-List celebs I can stalk in a week. Cheers.

-I Prefer British Idioms to American Vernacular-
Let’s face it, when it comes to the English language, the Brits got it spot on (I mean, English is named after their country for crying out loud!). Don’t get me wrong, I love shouting “wazzzzup” at my homies and prefacing all my sentences with the word “dude” as much as the next guy, but you just can’t beat phrases like “cheers, mate” “bloody hell” and “bangers in the mouth.” So my advice to all of you is to start working as many British words into your vocabulary as possible. Don’t barney me like a berk on this one, you’ll sound cooler, classier, and all your mates will be impressed by you quicker than you can say “Bob’s your uncle!” …And let me know how long it takes before you get your arse mullered by the rozzers.

-A Formal Apology to My Posse-
Now that I’ve updated and enlightened you a smidge, it’s time for me to apologize officially for being so lackadaisical about answering/returning phone calls. I really want to catch up with and talk to all of you, but in between job-hunting, running around the city and the East/West time difference, I haven’t been doing as good a job as I should be. No worries though, I intend to fettle that situation straightaway.

-Rock Out With Your Barack Out-
Today (Super Tuesday) is a big day for people who care about the world of politics (which isn’t me), and even though I maintain my vast disinterest in the political realm, I thought I’d say that at this point I think I’ll be casting my vote for Sen. Obama, unless I see fit to change my mind betwixt now and November. I usually try to avoid politics of any sort because I believe that everyone is lying and altering the truth to work in their favor, but the presidential election is always a big one, and I like to have some idea of who I’m voting for and why rather than pick blindly. I’m definitely not voting for Hilary, and McCain, Huckabee and Romney have yet to show me anything impressive, whereas Barack seems like a solid, energetic dude with some good plans for governmental cohesion. That’s good enough for me.

-From UALC to UCLA to…-
At the referral of a couple of people whose opinions I respect, I’ve been hitting up a church out here called Bel Air Presbyterian on the Westside. I like it a lot so far, and it reminds me a lot of the Xalt service at UALC (though the people aren’t as cool, obviously ;). I have pretty engrained spiritual/religious views, but the Presbys of Bel Air seem to have their heads screwed on straight, spiritually speaking. I’ll let you know how this new church relationship progresses as I explore where God wants me to be out here.

-Peyton Was Just Being Polite When He Clapped-
I don’t want this post to degenerate into an endless stream of swearwords, so I’ll keep my comments on Superbowl XLII (or Amateur Hour) as brief as possible:
Eli Manning is not a good quarterback. He threw several shoulda-been interceptions (someone tell Asante Samuel to practice some catching drills in the off-season), managed the offense poorly, and made some truly awful in-game decisions. But thanks to David Tyree’s incredibly athletic circus catch in traffic, Eli’s 59.5 minutes of flaws are being overshadowed by one good play that was just as much luck as it was athleticism. As a lifelong pro/college football fan, I understand that luck is just as much a part of the game as the stripes on the field, so I’m not suggesting the Giants should be stripped of their title, I’m just saying that if the Pats/Giants played ten games in a row, the Pats would win 9/10. Unfortunately for Patriots fans, the one that they lost just so happened to be the Superbowl. And Tom Brady (hands-down best quarterback currently in the NFL, and will likely surpass Favre as the all-time greatest if he chooses to stay in the league long enough) got about as much support from his O-line in that game as Vick got from PETA to help pay court costs. Credit the Giants D Coordinator for keeping pressure on Tom “Eli Wishes He’ll Ever Get to See 18-1” Brady, but as the offensive line, it’s your job to give your QB the protection he needs, regardless of how many people are blitzing however often. You can’t let your quarterback get sacked, hurried, and knocked down for the entire game, then expect him to trust the pocket enough to make the plays he needs to lead you to a comeback victory. Even a perfect QB (and Brady’s close) wouldn’t make passes while buried shoulder-deep in the turf. Oh well, there’s always next season. Maybe the Bengals will make the playoffs finally and then I’ll REALLY have a reason to gripe when they get pounded.

-Does the Facebook Bumper Sticker App. Ever Work Properly for Anyone?-
I admit it. I’m a full-on facebook addict. I’m in a support group (on facebook) that’s trying to help me, but so far, no dice. As a true facebook connoisseur, my biggest pet peeve is when simple facebook applications simply don’t function for what is apparently no reason. This annoying problem is most prevalent in an app called “Bumper Sticker.” I get bumper stickers multiple times a day, but whenever I try and view them or send them to my buddies, 99% of the time, the application just sits there and does nothing, or it freezes, or it goes blank. Now look, I’m not asking for full perfection or awesome graphics or anything, all I’m saying is that if you’re going to make an application, just make sure it can actually do what it claims to. If it can’t, no big deal, just don’t put it out there for the world when you still need another six months to work out the bugs, ok? Ok.

Well gang, it was another long one, so props to you if you stuck around to the end, and I’ll try to have shorter, more frequent (and hopefully less boring) posts for you Interneters in the near future!

Much love,
Dustin

Apparently these are the ridiculous Californian gas prices I was warned about...yet this is cheaper then what I've paid in Ohio before. Funny, that.

Facebook is the Cocaine of Our Generation

2008-01-17T12:38:00.000-08:00

Hey guys, Dustin here, happy to be back on the habit since we now have cable and internet in our house, thanks largely to Aaron “Let’s Get This Done” Covington.

First off, I’ll point out the obvious: that I made it safely to LA, I have a bed and clothes and things in a room that’s all my own, and yes, it’s warm here (special apologies to those of you living in the 614, where the high temperature will be a whopping 13º on Sunday). I am still unemployed (cue the naysayers’ snickering softly in the background), but have some decent prospects ranging from casting director for a reality TV show, to Starbucks barista (my top preference at this point) and everything in between.

To give those of you who are unfamiliar with the city some incentive to visit me, I’ve found out firsthand, that all the “bad” things about LA, really aren’t that bad. The traffic is heavy, but manageable (also, any city where U-turns are kosher is tops in my book); the gas prices are higher, but only slightly (I just filled up for $3.19 a gallon…not unreasonable); and there are no other flaws with this city, period. My house is pretty centrally located to everything (20 minutes away from south bay, maybe 5 or some from Hollywood and downtown, and 15 from Burbank, Studio City, Culver City, and two seconds away from USC campus, etc.), so it’s been handy for re-learning my way around town.

It’s been nice to see my Cali friends, though there’s still a few I’ve yet to catch up with (I’ll make it down to San Diego soon, Kyle, I promise); and my roommates have been solid thus far.

Other than that, I’m still the same old me, just wearing flip flops more often. Your guys’ phone calls, texts, emails and prayers have all been vital in keeping me going, so thanks in advance to all of you for being the best posse ever (regardless of the state).

I’ll update with new info as I have it, and I’d be happy to go into more detail in any area you’re curious about if I haven’t covered it here already.

Much love,
Dustin

...Apparently I still have some unpacking to do.

Overconsumption of Sobe Energy-Drinks Makes Your Urine Neon-Green

2008-01-13T21:50:00.000-08:00

Not to be confused with the short-lived 1970’s TV show of the same name; Benson, Arizona, has what I believe to be the ONLY Dairy Queen in the nation that is still a cash-only establishment. After double-checking with the DQ attendant on duty that I was still in 2008, and that I hadn’t accidentally been time-warped to some point in history where credit and debit technology hadn’t been invented yet; I quickly decided to make the Wendy’s down the street my dinner-supplier (normally Wendy’s would’ve been my first choice, but I’d just eaten there for lunch, and I don’t like to repeat fastfood joints in the same day if I can avoid it). As it turns out, customer service at the Wendy’s in Benson, Arizona, has really gone downhill since Dave Thomas passed on to the big drive-thru window in the sky. The apathetic individual working the window managed to mess up my order on three different occasions in a span of about five and a half minutes. If he could’ve seen my interaction, Dave would’ve been turning over in his grave like an all-beef patty on an industrial-sized electric grill.

Poor food service aside, it was another superior day on my Quest for the West (catchy, eh? I just came up with that). Covered 724 miles in a little less than 11 hours — unfortunately, most of the journey was in the half of Texas that hasn’t been given the gift of cell service yet, so I didn’t have the bonus of the random phone calls and texts that have brightened my days thus far, but I survived nonetheless.

The hands-down high point of the day was an interaction I witnessed from afar, somewhere in Bufu, Texas (population: 3 gas stations and an Arby’s), where a tourist in a minivan stopped a local resident to ask him for directions. The twist? The helpful local resident just so happened to be mounted on his white and tan horse at the time of the incident. That’s right, this particular country gentleman (fully clad in the kind of exclusively denim-and-leather outfit that would’ve made The Dukes of Hazard say, “maybe try not to be such a stereotype, ok?”) just happened to be spending his Sunday afternoon strolling around town on his calico horse, dispensing directions and fashion advice to anyone in need. Only in Texas, boys and girls, only in Texas.

Before I sign off for the night and focus on more important things (Sportscenter and Super Troopers, in that order), let me just add this special bonus message for all my friends in the trucking industry: Semi-Truck Drivers, YOU DO NOT NEED TO PASS ONE ANOTHER ON A TWO-LANE HIGHWAY!!! I don’t know if it’s some giant point of pride in the semi-trucking industry when your rig can pass someone else’s, but when I have my cruise control set at 88mph (just fast enough to activate the flux capacitor in case I get hit by a bolt of lightning), then have to slam on the brakes because you and your truck buddy felt the need to have a slow-motion drag race, it makes me hate Al Gore for inventing the wheel. I don’t know if truckers get paid by the hour, or the mile, or the number of flannel shirts they own, but whatever it is, I’ll double it if you guys can just please stay out of the fast lane when I’m around. Ok? Ok.

Tomorrow’s the last leg of my journey, and I’m not sure if I’ll have internet access when I arrive, but if I do, you can expect a full update on everything from how awesome my new place is to how awesome the weather in California is. You’re excited, I can tell.

Much love,
Dustin

Very Few Attractive People Hang Out at Truck Stops

2008-01-12T20:52:00.000-08:00

A big howdy to y’all from the mighty town of Abilene, Texas. Today’s drive (clocked at just under 10.5 hours) was pleasantly uneventful, so I’ll just give you the highlights while I watch the New England Patriots extend their 16-game streak of untouchability against the Jacksonville Luxury-Cars.

Highlights from Day 2:
+Got even better gas mileage today than Day 1.
+Made two-fewer stops today (Hardees for lunch, Subway for dinner, no dedicated bathroom stops. Probably a bad idea in retrospect)
+Declared Arkansas the worst state ever.
+Tried a different kind of Sobe energy drink today. Not thrilled with it, but I’m going to keep giving these guys a shot because the regular Sobe drinks are so freaking good, at least one type of their energy drinks must be decent.
+Ran over a cat doing about 80 miles an hour on the freeway. That is, I was doing about 80 —I don’t think the cat could’ve been going much faster than 10mph or so. On the upside, it was actually a Jeep that first hit the unlucky tan-and-white puffball and launched it into my path (the cat had decent hangtime) before I could react, so I’m pretty sure that it was already dead from that Jeep’s first hit, thus leaving my conscience clean and my PETA membership safe from revocation. +More awesome texts and calls today, keep ‘em coming! But note that I don’t respond to texts while I’m driving, so don’t take it personally if my reply-time is slower than usual.
+Drove through the first (and only) patch of rain thus far at the TexArkana border.
+Avoided all rush hours in all cities! Hooray!

And that’s about it. Be sure to come back tomorrow night to hear the latest from the trip and get an exclusive look at my new 12-step program on how to become an alcoholic. It’s guaranteed to change your life.*

Much love,
Dustin “I Don’t Actually Belong to PETA” Heveron

*Disclaimer: Guarantee for changed life does not necessarily imply that the aforementioned change will be for the better. Dustin Heveron Inc. assumes no responsibility for problems/fines/diseases incurred as a result of the program, including (but not limited to): alcoholism, herpes, leprosy, puppies, all felonious and/or criminal charges, “sexy dance moves,” herpes, tax-evasion, road rage, and herpes. All rights reserved. Friends don’t let friends text and drive.

I'm (Jay)Walking in Memphis

2008-01-11T20:28:00.000-08:00

At approximately 8pm Central Time (9pm Eastern, 6pm Pacific), I wrapped up an 11-hour day of driving (stopping only to eat some Taco Bell, urinate twice, and purchase one Sobe energy drink) by checking into room 225 at the Hampton Inn located in the heart of Memphis, Tennessee. And after all these years I finally realize what Mark Cohn was talking about in his 1991 hit song that shares its name with this blog post. What I used to think was just a mediocre-at-best tune about someone who liked Elvis a little *too* much, actually turns out to be a mediocre-at-best tune about the ridiculous jaywalking problem that is running rampant in the city. All I have done in this town so far is drive to the nearest SonicBurger, then back to my hotel. A total roundtrip time of maybe 2-3 minutes of road travel. Yet in that 2-3 minutes, I almost ran over —not one —not two —not three, but TWO different pedestrians who were jaywalking across a heavily-trafficked Memphis road in the middle of the night at two different points about a mile apart from each other. And this wasn’t the kind of jaywalking like you do on special occasions like New Year’s Eve where it’s you and a bunch of your friends in brightly-colored, sparkly clothing quickly sprinting across the street when you know for sure that the cars aren’t traveling faster than 6mph, and that you’re in no real danger. Quite the contrary; I’m talking about the kind of jaywalking where gentlemen who were clad head-to-toe in entirely black or dark gray clothing slowly meander diagonally across the middle of a four-lane highway (where the posted speed limit is 55mph) with all the urgency of someone in line to pay their taxes. This wasn’t jaywalking, it was suicide walking. It took all of my cat-like reflexes to avoid the first guy; and it was just sheer luck I missed the second guy…and I probably ran over four or five other jaywalkers along the way that I didn’t even know about. The moral of the story is: I don’t care how poor or homeless or lazy you are, if you’re gonna jaywalk, just invest the 45¢ it costs to buy a neon-orange construction vest with reflective strips…or if you really do have a deathwish, at least have the decency to hop in a bath with a plugged-in microwave like a normal human being, rather than do something that’s gonna result in me spending 15-20 years in a Tennessee maximum security prison for vehicular manslaughter. Try not to be so selfish, ok?

Ok, I’m off to the pool for a bit, then it’s time to crash in preparation for another 650-mile journey tomorrow. Be sure to check back in tomorrow for more Dustin-y goodness, and a rant on why the Teletubbies would make better drivers than most Kentucky natives (no offense, Sarah Hiance).

Much love,
Dustin

P.S. Adrian Jones is on the coast, and Dustin Heveron is in Tennessee? Something isn’t right here…

Second Star to the Right and Straight on Till Morning

2008-01-11T07:05:00.000-08:00

Well gang, after all the hubbub and hullabaloo and shenanigans, the day has finally arrived, I’m mere moments away from walking out that door and not coming back (except for frequent visits, of course), and I must say, I feel a little bit like Peter Pan returning to NeverLand. And if LA isn’t a true Neverland, I don’t know what is...in fact, I can already almost hear the LA folk saying, “You never should’ve come out here,” “You’re never going to make it,” “You never paid February’s rent,” etc. Cynics. And just like the delusional, green-tight-clad sprite himself, I feel that this trip is partially my attempt to never grow up — I left a great “real” job, watched the bulk of my friends get married and start their grown up lives, and saw others march decidedly into adulthood; giving up the fancies of children for the hard facts and cold realities of the “real” world. Dreams dismissed, flights of fancy balked at, and no more flying across the night sky in your pajamas just to have a nightcap on a clock tower with a few of your closest friends.

But the question I leave with you even as I myself am leaving is this: what if it’s all true? What if "growing up" is more of a mean prank the world plays on you than something mandated by the number of years you’ve been around? What if right around the corner is a world where all your dreams come true and you’re the king of your own destiny? What if happy thoughts are all it takes to fly? Well I can’t answer for any of you, but I can say without a doubt that if there’s even the slightest chance that any of that is true, then it’s a chance worth taking.

And so with that I make my aim geographically LA, but my actual destination is my own personal NeverLand that waits for me right around the corner. That might all sound naïve and absurdly optimistic to all of you…but if “naïve and absurdly optimistic” isn’t the definition of NOT being a grown up, then I don't know what is. So this Pan gets his last hit of fairy dust (coffee), prepares to not become a Lost Boy (one wrong turn in Texas and I could end up in an ocean), and consume a lot of Wendy’s (Jr. Cheesburger Deluxe, no onions). I’ll try and update nightly once I’m safe in the Wi-Fi of my hotel so that you know I’m okay, and as always, your thoughts and prayers are appreciated as I try to take a little joy to a city whose main hobby is extinguishing the light from those who enter its walls. I love you all.

Dustin

Myth: Confirmed

2007-12-31T14:20:00.000-08:00

So it’s the last day of the year — in the Eastern Time Zone we’re only a handful of hours away from kicking 2007 to the curb, and replacing it with the younger, hotter 2008. I will do my usual celebratory practice of getting inebriated to the point where I forget most (if not all) of my own personal information, and then proceed to make wildly fanciful claims about my life and/or the people in my life (such as: “I love you guys more than indoor plumbing,” “I am going to climb Mount Everest,” “I invented open-heart surgery,” etc.). I can, however, say that today is shaping up to be a great end to a great year. I had lunch with a longtime friend, played football for a couple of hours in actual sunshine (rare in Ohio this time of year), I’m about to go to a great jazz show at church headlined by some of Columbus’ best musicians, followed by the latest Coen Brothers’ movie (No Country for Old Men), and of course I’m capping it all off with my trademark all-night partying. Throw in a MythBusters marathon to fill in the gaps, and you’ve got the formula for a pretty kick ass day.

There’s not much update content to this post (I’m still jobless, but not homeless or friendless, so two out of three isn’t bad), it’s really just more of a chance for me to give an official “thank you,” to everyone who has made my year (and my life) as amazingly awesome as it has been. You are all incredible, wonderful people, and I wouldn’t trade the friendships and relationships I’ve had here for anything. I pray that you all keep in touch, and I thank you for the endless grace and love you’ve shown me over the years. I probably don’t tell you guys how much I love you often enough, and I figure if I tell you at 5pm it’ll sound far more sincere than if you get a call from me saying the same thing at midnight. God bless all of you, I love you very much and wish nothing but the best for you in the pending year. Everyone be safe tonight, and have a great time ringing in 2008!

Much love,
Dustin

P.S. After years of research, the myth that I have kick ass friends and that God has truly blessed me has been officially: CONFIRMED. Props to you guys for making it all possible.

The Final Fortnight

2007-12-27T14:38:00.001-08:00

Merry Belated Christmas to all of you illegal-music-downloading web-dwellers,

It’s the Thursday after Christmas — two weeks till I say bye to the 614 and hello to higher gas prices —at about 1500 hours Eastern Standard Time in Upper Arlington, Ohio, and at the moment I’m splitting my time and attention between SportsCenter, some leftover pizza and The Muppets Take Manhattan on DVD (the only Muppet film that I can’t quote at least 75% of and the foundation for the less-entertaining ‘80s spinoff animated series, Muppet Babies).
It’s the kind of day that has me thinking about life, love, and how I really feel about interspecies marriage (for the record, I think I’m ok with it, though I question whether pig/frog progeny is really a good idea), and anytime there’s that much thinking going on, it usually results in a blog for the DHeveron Reader Faithful (which is apparently just the Jasons K. and F., thanks guys, it’s good to know someone’s out there). But enough about you, let’s talk about me.

-Home is Where the Heart Is-
First up on my list of new info is that I officially have a place to live in LA, with people I know, to boot. Much thanks to everyone who offered their home or couch to me out west as a place to crash, but it is my pleasure to officially decline your offers since I’ll be sleeping in my own bed, in my own place out there. If you’re feeling extra stalker-prone, you can see a nice satellite view of my future abode right here. It’s nothing extravagant, and it’s a little more inland than I’d choose to live on my own, but it’s with folks I know and the price is unbeatable, even by Ohio standards. Feel free to drop by and visit me anytime (SkyBus, hint hint).

-iPhone is Where the Heart Is-
After a few weeks of iPhone ownership (iPhonership?), I’m delighted to say that I have no complaints with it aside from not making the switch in June and the inability to send picture-texts (though truthfully I have very little use for that feature in the first place). Battery life is tremendous, better than any mobile phone I’ve ever had, everything functions properly all the time (a nice change from my crash-prone BlackBerry), the sync system is unprecedented in sophistication and ease-of-use, and sometimes, late at night, I can hear the iPhone whispering sweet nothings to me in my sleep. But I’m sure that’s normal.

-Work is Where the Heart Is-
I need a job. With the other details pretty much locked up (housing, route for the trip, etc.), the one thing hanging over my head is what I should do for work out west. Being the perpetually indecisive fellow that I am, I don’t even know what genre of work I even want to try for, let alone where I actually want to apply. Should I use some of my “real world” work experience and try for another 9-5 job in the interim? Should I head back to the actor-stereotypical world of waiting tables and tending bar? How much do you think I could get working LA street corners as a lady of the night? These are questions that I should probably have answers to at some point before I pour the whole of my savings into this move.

-Damon’s is Where the Party Is-
After a random polling of my friends, I’ve finally settled on some details for a Getting-Rid-Of party in honor of myself and my departure. As most things are with me, this is all very last minute and low-key, but I’m gonna start spreading the word amongst my circle of comrades (and you’re welcome to spread it as well, I want this info to be as contagious as herpes, and twice as fun) that on Friday, January 4th, 2008, at around 1700 hours until probably 2300 hours (that’s 5pm-11pm, EST), I’m going to be at the Damon’s at Mill Run in Hilliard, downing Coronas and nachos for several hours. During this time I want to see literally as many of you as possible, since it will likely be my last public appearance in Ohio for a good long while. Now I know this is earlier than a lot of you do your “partying” typically, but I wanted something close enough to happy hour that my former work colleagues at Mills James and UALC could all swing by and buy me a round (or chip in to the gas fund :) and then the rest of you can show up later and we’ll all go out to the Arena District after Damon’s kicks us out or something. More details on that to come, watch your facebook/email/myspace for something from me.

-Military Time is Where the Heart Is-
If you ever find yourself intentionally unemployed, but still want to feel good about yourself for sitting around all day in your Superman footie PJ’s watching Nickelodeon’s Legends of the Hidden Temple reruns and drinking expired eggnog from a Tupperware bowl, you should try using Military Time in your day-to-day interactions. It won’t help you get more done, but it might make you sound like less of a bum when you try to explain to your friends why you’re waking up at noon every day.

-Heart is Where the Heart Is-
Look, I’m just gonna put it out there: Ma-Ti (the South American representative given the “Heart” ring on Captain Planet and The Planeteers) totally got the shaft. The rest of The Planeteers got control of cool elements such as (in order of coolness): Fire, Earth, Water, and Wind. While the function of those other rings is pretty obvious (fire controls fire, wind controls wind, etc.), the Heart ring didn’t really have a standard “cool” use — unless you count talking to howler monkeys with your mind as “cool.” I don’t. Even the chant to summon Captain Planet sounds like the Heart element was an afterthought; “Earth! Fire! Wind! Water! …Heart?” Now even though Ma-Ti was easily the least cool character of the five Planeteers, I still didn’t think it was fair that his power should be so lame…but then as I was thinking about it some more (I’m working on a sequel to the popular Dr. Suess tome called “Oh the Thinks You Can Think…When You’re Unemployed.” It’s gonna be big), I realized that love him or hate him, Ma-Ti is part of the team, and he’s not going anywhere. His power might not be as cool as the others; he himself might not be as cool as the others, but at the end of the day, there’s something to be said for a good person who will just listen to you and share their heart with you. As I prepare to move to LA — a city overrun with needlessly-flashy, shallow hotheads like Wheeler (fire ring), stubborn A-holes like Kwame (earth ring), ignorant hippie doormats like Gi (water ring), and alcoholic, fake-blonde party-girls like Linka (wind ring, and she was Russian, so it goes without saying that she was a heavy drinker) — it seems likely that the Ma-Ti’s of the world will be worth their weight in South American gold, and that the value of Heart will finally be apparent…assuming I can put up with the smell of howler monkey.

And on that note, fanboys and girls, I bid you adieu. Look for a new blog before ’07 is spent, and I hope to see everyone on the 4th!

Much love,
Dustin

28 Days Prior

2007-12-13T12:06:00.000-08:00

Not just the title of my can’t-miss, coming-of-age screenplay about a young zombie’s foray into the world of competitive ice-dancing, it also happens to be exactly 28 days prior to my exodus out west. And with 1/11 right around the corner, I find myself with plenty of new info to share with y’all, so sit back, take a sip of your Chai Tea Latte (they taste like Christmas), and prepare to have more Dustin thrown at you than is legally allowed in some states (I’m talking to you, Iowa).

Well boys and girls, it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve spoken to the internet, so I’m dedicating most of today to (in order):
+Writing a new blog
+Responding to ignored emails
+Commenting back to everyone I’ve neglected on facebook/myspace
+Setting up some sort of group or event to get people my new phone #
+Uploading pictures from the wedding, etc.
+Potential Party-Planning
+And much, much more!
I hope you realize how much I go through just to make you guys happy! Now, on to the blog!

-AAA Commercial-
For starters, I want to say thanks to everyone for being awesomely supportive of my most recent faux-acting endeavor. For those of you who don’t know, I was recently featured in a national commercial for AAA (the Auto Club) as Chris Kringle’s teenage son, Zak Kringle. The commercial was an entirely improvised shoot (shot in September) where they pretty much just put me in a beard and a costume and said “go.” A couple of hours later, they had enough material to cut a duo of 30 second TV spots together, and apparently enough extra footage to launch www.zakkringle.com — a website featuring videos, games, pictures, etc. based on the character that I created. Check it out if you have a free second, and keep my residuals coming. And though it’s a supposedly national commercial, I think it’s only running in places where winter driving happens, so apologies to my Cali brothers and sisters who will probably miss this rare gem (luckily I’ve linked to this commercial like mad, so you can still get the full experience! God bless narcissism!)

-Zak in Real Life-
And speaking of superfluous material, the people at the ad agency for whom I portrayed Zak Kringle thought it would be cool to give Zak facebook and myspace accounts, as well as a blog — which you can find respectively at:
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=790718488
http://www.myspace.com/zakkringle
and http://zakkringle.blogspot.com
Now even though I went a little self-promotion crazy when the ZK stuff first went to air, it’s important for me to stress that the person/people behind Zak on facebook, myspace, youtube, etc. is/are NOT ME. So while I fully encourage you to friend them and check out the material for a good laugh, it’s important that you don’t leave them overly-personal comments like, “Hey dude, remember that one time we almost got caught sneaking heroin into the country from Mexico?” or anything else that you wouldn’t want a perfect stranger to know about you or me. Because remember the First Rule of Logic and Reason: if it looks like me and talks like me, it’s me — except on the internet.

-As Nick Swardson Would Say…-
Party. If I had a nickel for every person who’s suggested to me that I throw some kind of going-away bash/fundraiser/party/event, I’d have enough money to throw a party/event/bash/fundraiser. Suffice it to say, I’m actually considering the idea, but I need you internet-dwellers to help get me past a couple of hurdles first.

+For starters, where? I’m not the captain of the football team or anything popular, but none of the places I live or have lived are big enough for me to open the doors to everyone I’d want to invite. So where’s a good place to host upwards of 100 people on a Friday night or something?

+Second, when’s a good time to schedule it? If I go pre-Christmas/New Year’s, will most people be too busy to attend? Or if I go after, will people be too partied-out to attend?

+Third, theme. Should there be some sort of theme to the gathering (the “ugly Christmas-sweaters” theme is being done to death this year, by the way), or is kicking me out of town reason enough?

+Lastly, is it tacky to put out a tip jar at your own party? Having recently left my job has put a real damper on my income, but would anyone actually toss in a buck or two to the “Ditch Dustin” fund, or should I just sell lemonade instead?

I’ve got questions, you’ve got answers. Now get to it.

-I Phone, You Phone, We All Phone for iPhone-
You’ve heard me beg. You’ve heard me whine. You’ve heard me plead on deaf ears. Well I’m hear to tell you, my cries for justice have been satiated, because earlier this week, I purchased an iPhone that I intend to love, cherish and honor till death do us part. So far, I love it, but I’ll try to keep you guys updated on the pros and cons of iPhoning in case you’re on the fence about whether or not to drop 500 Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers on buying one. Also, as I briefly mentioned above, I have a new number (for reasons that are too long and boring to discuss here, I decided to leave my old number in Ohio), and if you want this brand spankin’ new number, be sure to hit me up on here or via email for it or something.

-Housing Projects-
When I last wrote, I had zero (0) places to live in LA, CA. But I’m happy to report that as of this writing, I have two and a half (2.5) potential living situations that are all very do-able, with very do-able people. Since I know you’re all riddled with suspense, I’ll break these options down for you:
~Opt. 1) Getting a place with my buddy AC (an actual person, not an air conditioner) on the “nicer side” of USC’s campus.
~Opt. 2) Living with the fine fellows of Manhattan Beach until Sharvin kicks me out.
~Opt. 3) Living rent-free in one of my uncle’s beach houses in San Clemente till I find a place of my own…this would be option 1 except for San Clemente is about two hours south of LA, and since that makes it about a 17-hour commute with traffic, I’d rather not.

-It’s a Whole Chicken/Egg Situation-
The subtitle of this part is actually a reference to me getting a job (Flight of the Conchords faithful should get the joke), specifically the fact that I don’t have one lined up out West…and that I’m not 100% sure that I want to line one up before I go. Now, as you all should know by now, I’m not a worrier in general…but if there’s any aspect of my move that has me nervous, it’s my employment status post-move. I’ve decided that I’m not going to apply for a job till either I know for sure where I’ll be living in LA, or until I actually move out there and get settled first. This plan is probably a bad idea for a couple of reasons: January is a notoriously slow economic season due to the mass-spending everyone does at Christmas, and since every original show in LA is about to go dark because of the latest failed Writer/Studio strike negotiations, there will be lots of extra competition for the jobs that are available. So like I said, I’m not worried, just mildly nervous. Any suggestions, prayers, positive encouragement, or job offers would be welcome.

-Going to The Chapel, and We’re Gonna…Be Groomsmen-
Last weekend marked the penultimate wedding of 2007 for me, and the last one where I’m a member of the wedding party. I’ve spent more money on tuxedo rental than I have on healthcare this past year, and though I’ve had a blast at each and every ceremony (congrats to Tony/Molly, Isaac/Melanie, Phil/Sarah, Joe/Sarah, Emily/Steven, Paul/Katie, and the dozens of others that I’m forgetting) I will be glad when the final “I Do” of ’07 is uttered next weekend (pre-congrats to Allie/Bobby). Anyway, the moral of this paragraph is simple: if you’re a recent grad (I’m looking at you, Meredith), do yourself a favor and get a frequent flyer membership at After Hours Tuxes or David’s Bridal (or wherever it is that bridesmaids’ dresses come from) NOW, because it wasn’t too long ago that I laughed in the face of an associate who tried to sell me on a FREE membership where I’d receive a free rental for every $500 I spent. “Ha,” I thought, “When am I ever going to spend $500 or more on tuxes in a year?!” Now, after almost $1,000 of tuxedo-laden good times, methinks he’s the one doing the laughing.

Well gang, there you have it. That’s my two cents for the time being, feel free to add your two cents as well via comments or texts or emails or whatever…and if we have enough of them, maybe we can all chip in and buy a cup of coffee or something. And in an effort to make these things less long, wordy, and boring, I’ll try to give shorter, more concise updates in the coming four weeks. God bless anyone with the fortitude to read this far who isn’t related to me.

Much love,
Dustin

One Month Update

2007-11-23T16:32:00.000-08:00

Greetings to everyone, Internet Dustin here to give you the skinny (information) on The Skinny (me).

It's been exactly one month since I made the official "I'm Moving Out West" Announcement and clogged all of your email inboxes and facebook profiles with pleas for help, money, work, and the like. Last time when I wrote you, I didn't have a place to live, a job, or a roommate. Well, I'm happy to announce that as of today, I don't have a place to live, a job, or a roommate. Now, that might not sound like "progress" in the traditional sense of the word (i.e. accomplishing anything), but that's where you're right. Where you're wrong, however, is in assuming that things aren't actually going very well re: the transition out to the Left Coast. But as Reading Rainbow alum Lavar Burton was fond of saying, "don't take my word for it! Remember when I was on Star Trek?" So in that spirit, here are some outside examples of the positives thus far (with more to follow):

+Met with an ad agency VP who saw some of my work and wants to hook me up with his agent/casting director/manager/standup-comic buddies in LA.

+Found some very decent potential places to live that are in nice parts of town but still fall within my price range.

+Have some solid leads on jobs that I can do whilst I'm waiting in the approximately 5-year-long line to get into the entertainment industry.

+Continue to save money at an almost impossible rate (in ten days I only spent $18. Period. Impressed?) to make the cross-country trek.

+Have my mighty circle of connections hard at work trying to help me hammer out the details — you guys rock.

+Met with an industry-insider WGA writer who's working with me to shape my plan of attack to get into the biz.

+Am still going out with my friends way too much, and drinking heavily...maybe that's not actually a positive...

+And much more!

So there you have at, I'm just barely above SOL on this whole thing, but that's already better than most people do with this kind of dream, so I'll take it. If you need more details, feel free to hit me up via cell/email/facebook/myspace/whatever. I should have more for you soon, but the next couple weeks I'll be focused on finishing up work out here at the production studio, visiting everyone who's in town before I leave, doing extended-family Christmas in Michigan, and trying desperately not to botch up my friend's wedding that I'm in.

Cheers,
Dustin

Dearly Departed Dustin

2007-10-22T07:31:00.000-07:00

To all:

The phrase, I believe, is “pipe dream.”

pipe dream –noun.
1) Any fantastic notion, vain hope, or wildly irrational endeavor: Ex. – Her plans for a movie career are just a pipe dream.

2) A fantastic but vain hope (from fantasies induced by the opium pipe)

While I can assure you that I have no history with “the opium pipe,” I am elated to finally be able to announce to the masses (that’s you) that I have finally begun the process of pursuing my own irrational flight of fancy.

Warning: This long and self-indulgent message is going to be very…well, long and self-indulgent. If you don’t have ten to fifteen minutes to waste on it, or you’re one of those people who was like, nice to me out of courtesy, but never really liked me because I was too obnoxious…like, maybe we smiled and said “hi” in the hallways and all that, but ultimately, hearing all about my life and plans would be pretty annoying to you; then please, feel free to delete this email or navigate away from the website you’re reading this from and go about your day as you normally would. No hard feelings. …Well, maybe some hard feelings. Jerk.

The Premise:
Anyone who’s ever had a conversation with me that lasted longer than three minutes knows any or all of the following facts about my life: A) that I was born in California, B) that I have a fairly strong background in the performing arts, C) that I have a borderline-unhealthy need to be the center of attention, and D) that I was tricked into moving to Ohio in my early teens by an elaborate time-share pyramid scheme. But what does any of that have to do with my so-called pipe dream? Well, after many years spent living in Ohio (Birthplace of Aviation, Deathplace of Competent Driving and Decent Speed Limits…I shouldn’t be forced to drive 40mph on a highway, ever), I have decided to move back to southern California to pursue a career in the entertainment business. Now, you’re probably thinking to yourself, “But Dustin, I’ve seen your work, and really, you’re not all that talented. Why risk a life of poverty and failure for you, your children, and your children’s children, just so you can appease your own selfish whims?” …And actually, that’s a pretty good point…but I’ve already sent this out, so I guess it’s too late to back down now, isn’t it? Maybe that’s something you could bring to my attention a little earlier next time, ok?

A Day That Will Live in Infamy:
The not-so-tentative date of my departure from Columbus, Ohio, to Los Angeles, California (which, loosely translated, means, “The Angels, Rich-People”) is January 11th, 2008. That might seem like a randomly-drawn-out-of-a-hat kind of day at first glance, but it’s actually the result of a pretty complex formula consisting of:
Dec. 7th (Jared’s birthday)
Dec. 8th (Joe & Sarah’s wedding, which I’m in)
Dec. 11th (Road Trip)
Dec. 16th (Jared returns home, extended family Christmas activities)
Dec. 23rd - 26th (Jesus days)
Dec. 30th - Jan. 2nd (New Year’s/BAC-Achievement days)
Jan. 2nd – Jan. 7th (Bowl Championship Series)
Jan. 10th (Mom’s birthday)
So there you have it; bright and early on the morning of Jan. 11th, 2008, I will pile as many of my belongings as can fit into my 2007 Ford Focus (hey, if Mike Rowe says to buy a Ford, that’s good enough for me) and begin the approximately 2,246.21 mile journey to LA. Feel free to mark your calendars now and set aside that date as a day of weeping, gnashing of teeth, and general grieving over my departure.

This Program Made Possible With Support From Viewers Like You:
Now, you may be surprised to learn that a 2007 Ford Focus SE — while incredibly roomy and a delight to drive — isn’t big enough to hold things such as a bed, a dresser, most of my life-sized N’Sync cardboard cutouts, etc. In addition, I should point out that I am lacking all of the following out on the Left Coast: a job, a place to live, potential roommates, a general sense of direction, and a decent place to go thrifting (because there’s a greater-than-average chance that for the first time in my life, I will legitimately need to purchase my clothing from the thrift store — instead of just doing it to be “wicked awesome” like I am out here). That’s where YOU come in. I’m asking any and all of my friends/family/acquaintances/former employers/teachers/classmates to pick one or more of the following ways to help me.

Please go through this list and circle the option(s) that best describe(s) you and/or your ability to aid me:

-I know a person/persons who will employ someone with no experience and a questionable work ethic like yourself.

-I have and/or know of a reasonably-priced and/or free place where you can live (no Compton locations, please)

-I know/am someone who isn’t a serial killer that needs/wants a roommate.

-I have “connections” in some facet of the entertainment business that would be useful to someone looking to begin a career in acting/writing.
(mafia connections are frowned upon, but still accepted)

-I have a large pile of money and nothing better to do with it than to give some to you in order to help you get settled out west.

-I can get you a cheap bed/dresser, that may or may not be disease-free and clear of germs.
(germ and disease-free preferred)

-I know a free way to get you out of your contract with Sprint so that you can switch to AT&T and buy an iPhone.

-I have some other, helpful sort of service/aid/connection not listed here that I’d like you to be aware of.

-I can’t help with any of the above, but I support you fully with your endeavors, and at the very least would like to give you a hug/handshake and wish you well. And also, I think you’re a very attractive man, and your rugged good looks have always, and will always, inspire me to achieve greatness in my own life. And on the incredibly off chance that you ever “make it,” I fully intend to mooch off of you as much as possible, even though I didn’t help you in your time of need.

The Final Countdown:
So that’s it, I hope you found these 1,072 words helpful in catching up on my life, and I hope that you all know how very valuable our relationship during my time here has been to me. Please let’s keep in touch — or, failing that, try to remember me as nicer/better/handsomer/fatter than I actually was while we knew each other. This entire endeavor has felt like a blessing from God from the very beginning, and I’m proud and ecstatic to be able to share it with all of you. May God bless you and your pipe dreams as he has blessed the planning of mine. And please, feel free to pass this on or share it with anyone I may have missed, lost contact with, or just anyone in general who might find it of interest.

Love to all,
Dustin Charles Heveron

20 Questions (or less):
OK, so I’m sure you all have questions about the specifics of my journey, and why I’m going in the first place, what I want to do when I get out there, etc. As much as I want you all to feel free to ask me whatever you want to know, I thought I’d include a section that might answer some of the more obvious questions that I’ve already had to answer repeatedly. A “frequently asked questions” section, if you will. Now if only they had some kind of acronym for that…

1) So, what exactly do you want to do in the “entertainment industry” in LA?
Well, in the short term? Anything. Initially, I’m pretty much prepared to do whatever I have to in order to get the proverbial “foot in the door” and be able to pay whatever exorbitant rent I end up leased to in my first months there. Eventually, I’d like to be able to support myself exclusively from acting and writing, but as anyone with a modicum of experience in that field can tell you, that is a lofty and unlikely goal, statistically speaking. But then again, I never liked math that much, so why worry about it now?

2) Where will you live?
See above…I have nowhere to live yet, and no real prospects. I will update this as I get viable options.

3) How many days will it take you to get famous and be on TV and/or in movies? Will it be longer than three weeks?
Some self-conducted, incredibly informal research has revealed that it can take anywhere from two-to-five years just to get started at the very bottom rung of the ladder I’m trying to climb. And that’s if they let you on the ladder at all — it’s a pretty competitive playground, and the line for the slide is pretty long. It’s a known fact that 99.9% of all people (and 67.2% of all animals) in the Los Angeles area are wannabe actors, and most of them go their entire acting careers without ever having acting careers, so while I’m cautiously optimistic about my future as an entertainer, I’m not expecting anything right away, and neither should you. Even the dictionary definition I used for “pipe dream,” uses someone pursuing an acting career as the example sentence. That’s how synonymous “actor” and “least-likely to succeed” are. But rest assured, you will all be kept in the loop should anything noteworthy come my way, and I thank you in advance for your support. Unless we make some major breakthroughs in time-travel soon, in which case I won’t have to thank you in advance for your support, I’ll just travel to the future when you support me and thank you then, face-to-face.

4) I read legitimate journalistic publications like “E! News Weekly” and “Access Hollywood,” and I heard something about, like, a writer’s strike or something that could put everyone in Hollywood out of work or something. Won’t that negatively affect your ability to start an acting/writing career?
Well first of all, those are TV shows you listed, not publications, try proof-reading your material every once in awhile to catch your mistakes. Secondably, yes, there’s been talk of a giant writer’s strike for years…but ultimately, worrying about the potential problems of a proverbial “tomorrow” is no way to spend today, so if it happens, and if it effects me at all, I will deal with it then. And don’t watch so much Fox News, you’re getting paranoid.

5) What will you do if/when you don’t make it? Do you have a timeline or deadline to give up if things don’t work out? Will you move back to Ohio then?
I don’t currently foresee a time when I’ll want to give up this dream/goal of mine. Rather, I intend to always work towards this goal to some degree — even if I’m holding down another job (or nine other jobs) to pay bills, I’m always going to be auditioning, writing, and trying to pursue something in the entertainment/performance field. Your passion is who you are, and to give that up or try and remove it would be like trying to give up or tear out a part of yourself, and I don’t plan on doing that anytime soon. I will say that if it becomes exceedingly clear that I’m not meant to work in this field, or if I find something else that I’m just as passionate about, I will pursue that as fervently as this, but for now, I don’t see that happening. And as far as moving back to Ohio, I will say this: I love my family immensely — which is why I will call, write and visit as often as I’m able to — but I’ve lived in a lot of different geographical areas in the US of A, and California is by far my favorite. So even if I’m 65 years old, single and still waiting tables and auditioning in my spare time (a very real possibility, I should remind you), I would rather be doing it in Cali than anywhere else…and at least they don’t have winter. Now if this whole global warming thing starts to get fast and furious, I may reconsider cooler climates, but at this point it would take some kind of natural disaster (like an earthquake, or mudslides, or miles of raging fires or something) to get me to move…luckily, they don’t have those out there.

6) Look, it’s just you and me now, no one else has read this far, so you can level with me: you’re just doing all this because you want to be famous and have everyone laud and praise you, right?
Actually, no, believe it or not. For as admittedly vain, self-centered, narcissistic, etc. as I am; society’s definition/status of “famous” is something I am loath to deal with. I mean, obviously I’d like to be known and respected for doing quality work in the business, but I’m pursuing a career in something I have always loved doing — I’m not pursuing my face on a billboard and a nude beach shot of myself on the cover of The Inquirer. Just give me steady work, you can keep the fame.

7) I want to be constantly updated on your progress to a stalker-like degree. What’s the best way for me to memorize every detail of your life without texting you every 17 seconds and eventually causing you to block me from your phone?
After careful consideration, I have decided to get with the hottest craze of the late ‘90s and start a blog. You can find it at: http://ocdustino.blogspot.com/
I can’t promise how often it will be updated, but I can assure you everything of interest I do will make it there at some point. Pre-move, I’ll use it to update people on my needs/wants/other-self-centered-focuses, and post-move, I’ll use it to keep people abreast of my progress in the industry, if there is any to report.

8) Don’t you have a pretty good job now, with a lot of opportunity for advancement, great perks, the potential for huge pay, company-paid travel, etc? Why in the would you give that up to wait tables— er, I mean, “be an actor,” in LA?
I once wrote a song with the lyrics, “I don’t care too much for money, ‘cause money can’t buy me love.” And those words say it all: even though I’m not some giant Hollywood hotshot (or any size of Hollywood hotshot, now that I think about it), I’ve done enough performing, acting, writing, singing, etc. to know that I love entertainment/performance more than anything else I’ve ever done. I tried the whole “real job” thing with the “cubicle” and the “future” and the “paycheck,” for over a year after I graduated. And as much as I am thankful for that time I had and the people I met (and the money wasn’t bad, either), all it really did was prove to me how much I wanted to give it all up and pursue my dreams instead. And if that’s not the essence of blind, ignorant youth and inexperience, I don’t know what is.

9) Dustin! I feel the need to inform you — a California native — of how expensive the cost of living is out there! I am the only person who knows this information and it is vital that you understand how impossible living out there will be unless you have, like, a trillion and a half dollars…do you have any idea what gas costs out there?! Are you a trillionaire?!
No, I’m not a trillionaire, and I appreciate your concern and consideration for my ability to sustain myself out there, but I have it on good authority (Wikipedia.org) that dozens — maybe even hundreds – of people live in California who aren’t lottery winners, oil tycoons, CEO’s and the like. I intend to be one of them. And while I admit that I am probably going to roll my eyes the first time I have to pay $83 for a burrito from Taco Bell, that’s just part of the sacrifice I’m willing to make. And besides, that’s why they have Del Taco out there, where prices are still what they were in the 1920’s. Three quesadillas for a nickel? Jackpot.

10) Why aren’t there exactly 20 questions like it said in the heading of this section?
That’s exactly why I added the “(or fewer)” part to the heading, but the number of questions in this section will increase or decrease based on how much I feel explaining things over and over and over again to people. If there’s a question you’re dying to see here, let me know. I’m only here to make you happy, after all.

11) Dustin, you’re looking really buff these days, have you been working out?
Yes, and thanks for noticing. I am incredibly attractive and not at all skinny. Think “Greek god” combined with Hulk Hogan (the good years), and that’s pretty much what I look like now. And it’s probably best if you just take my word for that, and don’t try to confirm it via facebook or myspace or in person or anything. I mean, would I lie to you? …Wink!