One More Tie Up…

I have this lazy Sunday, and I could have gone a few different ways: finish up Europe once and for all, or finish up recent times. I didn’t want to rush through the big trip, so I’m catching myself up though a few weeks.

Jenna and I met up with my sis and her hubby, the Jet Setting Linders, and their friend Ana Maria, at this cute little coffee shop on Irving.

The reason, the great big Linder give away. The Linder’s are moving to their downstairs’ apartment, and renting out their house. And luckily for us, this move involves them getting rid of allot of perfectly usable clothing items. Look at all this shit.

Look at my new pimp suit.

Thank you so much Linders. I have never owned this many shoes in my life.

That next weekend, Jenna decided she needed some beach time. You know, at least once in the summer. So we hit the long ass long long super long Q ride to Coney Island.

Oh the beach. And oh my sexy girl.

A beautiful day. We even made shadow eyeballs.

And later, Jenna was just not convinced that this was the original Nathan’s.

We interrupt this regular blogcast to bring you sheetmonster.

Thank you, and now back to regular programming. Remember my Titanic preview? It was for an assistants competition in recutting a trailer of a movie in a different genre. Well, PS 260 came in with 5 strong entrants:

Princess, Tom, Jenna, and of course me. We all made it to the awards on time, except Robert who was still working. But he barely made it, and good that he did, because he won first fucking place! Yes, his recut of the Shining was just absolutely awesome. You don’t believe me? Just check it out, Rob's Winner.

Oh and Tom got third, for his extremely eerie and cool infected thriller West Side Story zombie style. Way to go PS.

We now interrupt with word from Pajama Monsters.

And we’re back. The following Saturday, I wanted to go play kick ball in prospect park, but got lazy and did nothing. Nothing until I got that call from good Samaritan Jenna: “Um, the other guy we had lined up let us down. Can you come help my friends move?”

Now, if you know me at all, you know that the only thing I hate more than moving, is throwing up. But what are you going to do? She roped me into becoming a good Samaritan as well.

There was allot of shit. It was a crazy long hallway.

But we survived.

Barely.

Cut to the Monday, when the world traveler came in to town to surprise us all. Yes, we have an Aaron Gatti sighting, ladies and gents.

We chilled at John’s with Nick Katz.

A bunch of kids who are just up to no good.

Wednesday gave us the premier of America’s Next Top Slutty hussy. Or Model. So we headed back to Astoria to Kerri and Shannon’s house, which I helped become a reality.

A few iceless margaritas later and we had carrying.

Pole dancing.

Acutal posing.

And the obligatory ass shot. (something tells me this will be censored later, and so it has)

Thursday, a very special day. Gatti’s birthday.

So I got him this motorcycle.

Went out with a few of his NY friends, like soccer captain Angus, but the night was a pretty big non event.

So we move on to Friday. Jenna and I had nothing to do, until I got a text message alerting me of Michael Leviton’s EP release concert. So we headed down and saw some old peeps that I had not eyed in quite some time. Good old Thayer Mclanahan.

And the couple of couples, Aaron and Claire.

The performance rocked.

And I even got to say hello to the star.

Check him out at his myspace page.

Saturday, Jenna and I just took it easy at Riverside park.

Basking in the gloaming glow, we crossworded into the sunset.

And so does this post. Maybe someday Eurotrip 05 will come along. Beside that, we're all caught up.

The End Of LA…

Finally, after finishing season 3 of 24, I have some downtime to post-y-post. So let’s do it.

The last days of Los Angeles I finally met up with the elder California Stephens’, My uncle James and my Aunt Pril, proud parents of Tay and Lou.

They took me to yet another cool cook it yourself Restaurant, except this was Shabu Shabu style, which literally means swish swish, because you boil it yourself. They give you all this thinly sliced meat,

And then you swish it around in your own personal pot, cooked to your own style of perfection.

Isn’t that Governator picture awesome? They decorated the entire restaurant with stylized pictures of celebrities.

We even had this weird moment when the restaurant music started playing Rooney. Pretty Cool.

It was such a busy week, that after that dinner I double booked the night and saw my friend Lauren, who’s now immersed herself in that devil business of making movies.

I snapped this picture in the empty morning, because The Standard is a no picture hotel (they have to protect their celebs).

I just wanted to show you guys the trendiness.

Do you remember the big chair at eclectic?

Well I found the even bigger chair here on the west coast.

My last night, I tried to go to bed early, but got called out by my other LA friend, Emily.

She lives in LA, but unlike the other 99% of the population, she has no car. She and her boy get everywhere on public transport, and, more importantly, on bikes. Yes, they came to pick me up in a tandem.

We ate Mexican, and I had flaming margarita that later made me throw up. But it sure looks pretty.

Our ride back was fantabulous.

Thanks Guys,

and thanks LA.

Ton Ton Ta Ta…

Well the secret’s out. Mystery Date had been a mystery date not for any reasons of her own, like I said at first, (oh my god, I lied) but because we have been involved in what I like to call:

“The Office Affair”

Yes, we work together, but now, through many picaroon adventures, most worthy of bad sketch comedy, we have been found out and there is no longer a need to keep her behind a question mark.

Come Out, young lady.

No, don’t be shy.

Yes, there she is, the beautiful lady once known as Mystery Date, Jenna-Marie Warnecke.

Welcome to Shut The Fuck Up Donny, sans ?????

Hell A!…

Yes, California opened its loving arms once again for this poor traveler. The state of my high school years…

My interim editor Maury and I, early and excited, took the plane.

He wanted a Sonata, but had to settle for the glorious Pontiac G6.

And a room at The Standard.

Which I think is just fine, but Maury kind of dislikes.

I took a bit of a walk the first day, trying to kill some time. (they only rented one car, which sucked my anus, but since I am 2 months shy of 25, I could not drive it anyway). And came upon this little wonder.

Right next to a café where Dave Navarro casually ate some brunch. Of course I spotted the world infamous viper room, where one River took a cocaine dive.

And met up with a young leaf of the California branch of the Stephens family, my cousin Louie.

We played some pong.

And went out to eat at one of those cool Japanese restaurants where you fry your own steak.

And the second branch made an appearance, Ms Taylor Stephens.

I checked out their crib (they live in the same apartment building) which include vibraphone (the Ray instrument)

Gecko

And my personal favorite, a bona fide ghostbusters cartoon blanket.

Belonging to Nick, Taylor’s boyfriend, who I barely got to meet.

The next day, Maury went out on set, which in 91 degree California heat was a snow paradise, thanks to the magic of show business (or in this case, Snow Business, the company that pulls this sort of shit.)

Maury and I finished the long hellish day at the one and only In and Out Burger, whose cherished fresh burgers had not tantalized my taste buds in quite some time.

The next day we began editing at Rock, Paper, Scissors, a hip LA post house. They got comic book guys and full on trailers, for crying out loud.

At night, I dragged Louie to In and Out once again. And my favorite part of the trip occurred. You see, young Louie is the pianist for Rooney (a band), and while the have good sized following, they are not fully household names.

As we ordered our food, two young girls walked in, and they kind of kept eying us. I was thinking, “Damn, my moustache is unstopabble.” (it has been very well received on the west coast. People can’t stay away from its grandeur.)

Then our burgers came, and I went to the counter to pick them up, and next thing I know, L-dog has already started a conversation. They are both recent LA arrivals, and recent freshpeople at AMDA, some sort of acting school. Slowly, I realize that, no, it was not my moustache that made them look at us, but the fact that one of them had seen Rooney in Georgia, and that SHE had probably initiated contact.

The small talk fizzling, and food in hand, we say goodbye and sit down. When they get their food, they sit pretty close. Louie and I have our meal, and towards the end, killing our fresh fresh fries, they put their trash away and come back towards us.

“I hate to do this to you guys cause I know you are eating,” the blond one begins in a metzo-heavy Georgian accent. “But we just got here, and we were wondering if you guys knew any cool places to go out to?”

Thus began their feeble attempt at… well, basically, picking Louie up. Now, I have never been a hot girl in my life, but this came the closest I will ever come. These poor girls were trying so hard to engage, and I just reveled in the role reversal. It was so hilarious at the time, that I had to take a picture with them.

(in a sadistic turn, i didn't take a picture of them with Louie. Ha!)

And you see, they’re pretty cute, and on any regular night I might be one many sleazy guys trying to feed them some silly shpeal (sp?) to get them in the sack, but tonight, I played the aloof disinterested party.

Guys usually have to approach, and sell themselves, and keep the conversation going, and to see these two trying so hard… telling us all about AMDA “one of our teachers won a Canadian oscar,” “all of our faculty have been on broadway at least once,” “oh it’s a very intense program, if you leave for the bathroom they don’t let you back in.” “did you see that saved by the bell where they find a bunch of money? The guy chasing them is our speech coach” It gave me a peek at how the other half lives, and it felt cool, but weird.

And my very favorite part of the whole thing, was a small realization. Midway through it became pretty clear that anytime Rooney stepped foot in ANY part of Georgia, the blond had been there, and that she would love to hang out with Louie, but the black haired girl probably didn’t really know them at all. And yet, she kept bumping knees with me in a flirtatious way. And it dawned on me: this girl would have gladly taken it for the team. If we told them, yeah we’re actually going to the hot spot right now want to come, she would have totally hooked up with me, the weirdo with the moustache, just so her friend could hook up with my cousin, the rockstar.

Finally, Louie gave them the easy out by asking for blondie’s number, and we probably made their week.

We went off to see Me You and Everyone We Know, which I loved, and stopped by this amazing record store on the way, Amoeba.

I worked pretty late the next two days, and almost didn’t go out on Saturday night, but thought, fuck it, how many Saturday’s in LA do you get? So I took a cab, and damn if it wasn’t the same guy from the day before.

And yes, in certain places of LA, you CAN take cabs. So I arrived at Gower Gulch.

Where the beer was hot, and the songs were flowing.

We all did a perfect five part harmony rendition of Scarbourough Fair, and then we witnessed this Incredible Man.

I was looking for the perfect song, that magical blend of irony and belting performance, when Hootie’s “Hold my Hand” called out to me. Little did I know, I actually selected “I only want to be with you” which I then destroyed. It just wasn’t a belt out song.

You want to see? Okay, here’s a peek. Dustin Fucks That Hootie Shit Up!

And that has been LA so far.

I think Pac put it best: California. Knows how to party.

The Sad Reality…

It is obvious to everyone, I guess, my blog has sucked.

But I have been busy, busy busy. No excuse i know, but such is life.

Things you might have missed:

A. The rest of Europe.
B. My family’s visit to NY.
C. The fact that at this very minute, I am in LA, enjoying my California youth, thanks to a crazy BMW job.

Yes, there are pictures to prove all of this. That someday might actually be posted.

The Beginning…

I did not take a summer vacation last year, and I’ve only left PS 260 for a week since I started, oh, almost three years ago.

So when I heard my good friends John Mclane and Dan Baum cavorting about a trip to the old country, I knew my time had come.

Disregarding an off the cuff prohibition against vacations longer than a week, I bought my ticket for a full two weeks of fun.

(It felt good to know that I slaved myself, working anytime they needed me, doing all the crazy runner tasks for so long, basically donating my life to this company for three years, and now I had no fear in asking for something back. I am a needed player, and I can’t abuse that, make too much of a power move, but I can say that I deserve a full two weeks once in a while and take it.)

So without further ado… Let the Adventure Begin! We were off, John for the first time. Me, this would make lucky number three.

Two losers with neck pillows.

The flight went by pretty smoothly. John never even left his seat. We arrived in one piece.

Daniel, leaving from Dirty Jersey arrived half an hour earlier, but forgot to take down our flight number. The lady told him he had about 15 flights to chose from, most in different terminals. One of the cardinal rules of traveling that I have learned sounds like this: It Usually All Works Out. And so it did. Upon landing, Baum got his bag and walked over to the other baggage claim where he found us, just arrived.

Belle Paree, we are one again. And what better way to start (or continue) our day than by drinking duty free vodka on the train into the city.

We tried to check into our wonderful Hotel Voltaire.

But they didn’t let us, too early. So we dropped our bags, and we were off to the races. With just one day in France, we hit the Tour Eiffel view.

On the way to the wondrous Musee D’Orsee.

Where the elephants roam.

I fucking love this place.

So many masters.

I have a whole series planned like this, Dustin and The Arts. But later.

That penthouse hallway of the D’Orsee might just be my favorite of all Museumdom. The pre- during and post- impressionists, in all their glory, I love them.

Did I say the elephants roamed, I really meant the rhinos. They got balls, man.

Undaunted, we trudged on to the next great house of art, The infamous Louvre.

Where we sped through the saucy Venus.

And hit the coyest work of them all, that overrated bitch, La Jacond.

Okay… gotta go. I swear I’ll finish this shit at some point.

Europe Coming, Pressing News Now…

Oh Jesus. Sometimes you just gotta love your job. The seniormost assistant, the wonderful Sarra I. had been cutting a new Tracy Chapman video. They thought it would be done a week ago, but alas cut fights ensued, and Sarra left on vacation. Which left little old me to finish the deal. So Ms. Chapman gave me a call and we did two changed, and I conformed the sucker and made the masters ans shipped it.

Yes. I talked to Tracy.

What. You don’t believe me? Well take a listen to this: Trace On The Phone

(which brings me to a massive apology to Ms. Chapman. This a huge violation of the celebrity trust, and I think I could get into big trouble for it. What is it about Celebrities that makes us all crazy? Why do I feel special for simply talking to a person? Ms. Chapman, if you ever see this and don’t approve, I will remove it in seconds. Sorry that I am such a loser that I must abuse your confidence to feel cool.)

I swear, the full breakdown of Europe will begin soon.

Too Much For Now…

I have so much to say, and yet so little time. And the pictures, Jesus and Moses, so many pictures!

Why don’t I just show them all? Okay.

Here it is, in toto:

Euro Trip 2005.

Well Suck Me Off, And Call Me Susan...

Things have been crazy. Much to say, and yet so little time, metered internet being what it is. The trip so far: Arrival at seven in the morning to paris, sucking that city dry in a day. Flight to italy the next morning. two nights in rome, one in perugia.  Through Pescara to Hvar on Hvar Island, Croatia. Two more nights took us to Bratislava,  Slovakia with a quick swim in Split. One hellish then calm night and off to Prague. Walking and Walking two nights catches us up to the present. Arrival in Amsterdam, The Netherlands at 9:30a this morning.

It looks so small and quick in the above sentence, but oh if i had time to tell it all...

Changing It Up…

Well, our dear beloved guild, the Association of Independent Commercial Editors, or AICE to you, has a yearly contest for card carrying assistant editors.

They give you six films, with their genres, and you must cut a new preview, trailer, whatever, for the movie, but, here’s the kicker, it must now be a new genre. So, Red River as a thriller. Or West Side Story as a western. The Shining as a documentary… you get the picture.

I did Titanic, as a… well why don’t you just look for yourself:

(Oh, but a few caveats first: this is the first rough cut, it has been smoothed out a bunch since, I just ran out of time to post the new one. And second, you must try to watch it on a computer with good speakers, or at least speakers that can hit the low end of the spectrum. There is some key audio that hits the bass area.)

Okay, here you go Hit That Ship

And now, instructions on how to become really gay: Roll up your shorts as far up as they go.

Strike the most effeminate pose you can do.

Hit the low angle shot for the winner.

And in sadder news for you, exciting news for me, I’m fucking off, bitches!

Yes, after not taking a vacation last summer, I finagled a full two consecutive weeks to go to Europe. France, Italy, Prague, Amsterdam… oh jesus, its going to be krunk. Taking good old baum, gatti, John mclane the third…

I am excited. And I am totally taking the camera, and even bought two new full 1 Gigabyte cards so as to not run out of space, but I doubt I will post much from the continent. Maybe some text here or there. But rest assured, when I return, there will be adventures to tell, oh yes, adventures of the likes you have not seen on this boring thing. So wish me luck, dickholes!

Im out.