Monthly Archives: November 2008

Netflix VS. Blockbuster Online

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.



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"

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.


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,

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.

I don’t care much for candy, but I still got plenty of sugar this Halloween…wink.

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