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.

Blog, Brah

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?

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

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?

“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

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.