Scott Bakula No Longer Hoards the Word "Quantum"

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”

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

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

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

“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

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

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

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?

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

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.