Weird things have been happening in the building next door.

Some sort of party that they didn’t invite us to. How rude.

Luckily, Jenna and I did get invited to a different party.

At a fun little apartment in the sky.

The invite came from one Rob Ryang, who had ulterior motives.

With molly’s help.

And his ingenious cunning.

I was transformed.

Into a polemaster Jones.

Actually, Jenna and I were both transformed.

Can you tell what we are?

Can you tell how much fun it is to ham it up?

We really couldn’t stop.

We were just raving fools.

Doused with ex and jumping like wankers.

You should try it sometime.

It’s quite fun.

So why were we all dressed up like lit idiots?

Well for Rob’s special directorial project.

He was asked by the WSJ to do a parody political viral video, and you can check it out and our wonderful performance in it right here.
 

Thanks rob. Happy New Year!

October can only mean one thing for New York snobs: The New Yorker Festival.

Two years ago I had a fantastic time listening to some of my favorite authors. Last year, I wasn’t paying the best attention, and missed the ticket sales opening by one day, cursing myself for weeks.

But this year, thankfully, Jenna and I set our clocks to get into a reading by Jonathan Safran Foer (if you haven’t read Everything Is Illuminated, you probably should). He read an amazing short story about family that needed slides to be fully captured, so we could see new symbols he used and defined. It was awesome.

He was followed by Edward P. Jones, who I have not read, but whose lilting magical realism prose strung a good yarn.

During the question and answer session, I pussied out of a question.

Then couldn’t get a picture cause JSF got mobbed by the snob groupies.

For most, that would have been a full evening in itself, but Jenna and I pushed ahead to Stephanie’s birthday party.

It seemed like everyone made it out.

J doggy dogg™

Nicole and boyfriend Doug.

Sarra and the Cess.

Even people who no longer worked at the old PS dropped in, like Tom and Eric.

And the old PPS Emily with her friend whose name I don’t remember.

Even some clients came along.

Of course, we had to strike a pose. En vouge at all times, baby.

Steph, a classical film photographer sported a very cool 80s Polaroid.

Which might have given us the pic of the night.

Conversations were had.

People stood on chairs, and all was well.

Happy Birthday, Steph.

This might have been a very full evening for most, but it did not end for my lady and me. We walked by a blurry movie shoot.

And some lit outdoor furniture.

To make it into a party perfect for me: a moustache fest!

People were encouraged to bring fake ones if they couldn’t hack it.

It was fun to out do everyone, but we only new the Mad-villan, so we finally called it a night.

On Saturday, between working hard on a project I will talk more about later, Jenna and I hit a Fake News Panel.

The head editor of The Onion, the Exec Producer of the Daily Show and Colbert Report, and Andy Borowitz regaled us with erudite opinion and witty comebacks.

At night, free drinks started our next event.

Which were very tasty. Thanks corporate sponsors!

You allowed us to enjoy the very funny interview and clip show of Steve Coogan.

The best part of the show came when Steve went through several impressions of different celebrities. God he was good.

For our final event on Sunday, Jenna and I went out with a bang: Interview with John Stuart.

He was everything you’d want him to be: smart and hilarious.

What a wonderful New Yorker Festival weekend. See you next year, snobs.

It was the best of times, it was the so-so of times, it was the 29th of September times, and it was the diner times. Yes siree, Charlotte and Becky were throwing a little eating shindig.

At char’s swanky Dumbo establishment.

I hadn’t been there in a while, so I wasn’t privy to the reconstruction. Like this elevated bed.

Or the step up chilling couches.

The secret fashion creation tent.

The dope paintings.

Or the remodeled other room.

Char was busy cooking up the good stuff.

Zuchini lasagna.

And some cheese and crackers appetizers.

The C-Spot’s man came home.

As did this lovely lady who I met at a previous Becky diner, and whose name I now, regrettably, forget.

As people partied down with wine, I sampled this delectable potable, probably some of the best ginger ale I have ever had.

More guests began arriving.

And then even more.

Whiskers didn’t appreciate it too much with his grouchy attitude.

But even he had to admit that it was a beautifully set table.

So we began to eat.

And wine.

And talk.

And quip.

And quote.

Digitelle made it in.

To look rough and gruff for just a bit before heading out.

Then the cup cakes had their time to shine.

And we all basked in their presence.

Some people had to bid their adieus.

And some stayed to sing along with bad eighty’s tunes.

Others went with the classic party pass out.
 

Including the kitties. Thank you for the wonderful space and food, Char.

In the end, we all had to leave at some point.

Including fellow co host Becksters. Thanks for the invite.

Well, it was Thursday, and the third concert of the week finally came. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah at central park.  Pretty dope.

Architecture in Helsinki opened for them, and they were pretty good.

Rob and Molly made it out as well, and Jenna found Jennifer with much excitement.

Then we pushed ourselves to front of the show.

Got a bit blurry.

Then corrected it all.

Then the weird Pennsylvania crooner came out.

We all clapped and said yeah.

To some dulcet tones.

Except Jenna, after being spoiled by other better concerts, thought they were only so so.

I liked the roof.

And thought the band played pretty well.

The night ended with the incredible surprise of new boxers from my girl. Thanks, babe.

Thus ends the incredible concert week.

So on the last Monday of Sept. I finally made it back in the money at the old Ad Biz poker night. How it happened, you might ask? I probably played tighter than usual and then got lucky somewhere towards the middle, and the end, then got cocky and lost to Paul for 2nd place taking in a nice 80 beans. Yup, that’s probably what happened but who can remember these things anyway?

That Tuesday, the office got a delicious cate surprise. Special guests Garza and the elder Ryang illuminated us with their presence.

And the Cate Connection surprisingly did not stop there. Later on that night, continuing the glorious concert week with an Of Montreal evening, who was at the door but Ms Meredith S.

Slinging Wired promotional material. Crazy pequena coincidencia.

The scholastic tie ins did not stop there, it turns out good old Josh G. made it to the concert as well.

Since it was a Wired sponsored even for some tech convention, they had some cool shit, like this device that shines a special sort of light that makes your veins pop out.

Then the show began, the very androgynous Of Montreal all came out wearing these huge masks.

And pointing.

The lead singer wore this frilly shirt, while the guitarist sported a skirt.

Then a man in an 18th Century wig came out and they tied up the lead singer.

And beat him down.

Umbrellas made an appearance.

And next thing you know, he’s down to some tiny daisy dukes.

One of my favorite parts came at the costume change, when the band kept the mood going by playing the Os Mutantes classic “Ba Ba Cumba O Hey”

Quite a show indeed.

Thank you oh skirted ones.

Wait, stop the presses, is that David Byrne?

Why so it is… and to think I didn’t have the balls to take a picture with him.

But the show did not end there, either, the gold coated Jamie Lidell took the stage.

Solo. He is a one man looping machine with an incredibly soulful voice. You probably should not miss it.

Josh then somehow scored a VIP pass (he said a drunken person leaving dontated it to the cause, but we have theories of sexual favors).

And who did we find but fellow eclictite Ben in the crowd.

In the end, who looks cuter in the T Shirt? I think we all know the answer to that.

Oh what joy! Much have we blogged to try and catch up to begin the auspicious retelling of a glorious time we can only refer to as, drum roll please, CONCERT WEEK. Can you feel our excitement?

Indeed. 3 concerts just happen to span but one seven day period, and what started us off but the illustrious Flamming Lips, and the beautifully ceilinged Hammerstein Ballroom.

With it’s many balconies.

As we were waiting, the crowd was quite surprised to see the band members themselves helping to set stuff up.

But more surprising was the free dispersal of laser pointers to the entire audience, who put them to good use right away.

And thus began the show, with stage left inundated by dancing Santas.

And stage right by girls wearing alien masks.

Then the lead singer came out, and with quite an entrance. They put him in a huge inflatable ball.

And I just rolled over the entire audience.

I can only imagine how dope it was to ride a sea of adoring people.

Then the music began.

And with the first crescendo, more surprise surged from all directions.

Confetti and balloons were everywhere.

The excitement was palpable.

And it just kept going for the first 20 minutes.

Its hard to explain how fucking cool it was. The music surging, the crowd cheering the lights flashing, bouncing balloons everywhere…

The flaming lips understand that as much as we want their music, we also want spectacle, something that makes us forget that ticketmaster raped us.

The fun didn’t stop there, the lead singer had a camera on his mike which would be projected on the huge screen from time to time.

Also, different songs would be introduced by old celebrity clips from talk shows and SNLs, like John Stuart on Remote Control.

The colors surged from hot reds.

To cool blues.

Then the countdown began.

And upon hitting zero, with a mirror held aloft, we all  shot it with our lasers.

And what a moment we all witnessed.

Later, we shot one particular balloon, and that shimmered a magical moment as well.

And so the songs went on, and the confetti cannons kept shooting.

The performance was tight. They are the consummate musicians.

As well as the ballooners, some which would explode.

Into more confetti.

Then the bassist put on the big hands.

And the sun came out for the finale.

If you weren’t there, then I’m sorry. No photos or description will ever really impart to you what a fucking incredible show this was. We found ourselves honored to have made it.

Towards the end of Sept., Nicole has her birth anniversary.

And all of PS was in attendance.

And her gift.

Made her quite excited.

We hung out on the roof with a special guest.

Then took off.

Through the underground network of rat homes.

And a little Italy street fair.

To reach a very red bar.

Where the hang continued.

And the lights shown bright.

We even got to do the most hallowed of traditions.

Birthday Shots.

On the way back home, we ran into one Mr. Sean N., in a random NY sighting.

The next day, boy did we get a surprise… our dearest friend from across the pond: Rehana C. Visiting from Welsh country.

Oh happy day! Everyone rejoicing at her presence.

And quite a group it was.

With happy people.

Or maybe kids that didn’t want to get pictured.

Awwww. Cute couples.

And an unprecedented reunital of 4 Clark 1 hallmates.

We left for another bar.

And Rehaha explained the big news.

To everybody, including girls giving my camera the finger.

That she’s getting married.

To this English chap. Incredible.

Even Woomsies 2 (the bag) couldn’t believe it.

Well, thanks guys.

And thank you, Rehaha, for being so cool still. And congrats on getting hitched, buying a house, and finally making the blog.

Let’s say its, oh… I don’t know… Sept. 15th, and you are Jenna. Then
you would just have bought some of the coolest stationary around.

Made by PS 260’s very own Stephanie.

You would also be preparing,

For a very fanciful office swim.

If you were Dustin, then later that night you would come upon some wonderful

Creatures from the deep.

If you were both Dustin and Jenna, then you would have attended the
Rutkoff Fontaine house warming and birthday bash. Where many good
friends from old came together and rejoiced in each other’s company.

Like Josh. Photagrapher, scrabble player.

Or Matt and Derek. Two fine outstanding gentlemen, each in their own right.

Here Howard demonstrates the utmost of humility.

And what have we here, but quite excited Carolina, teller of tales, trader of sugar.

We discussed this very gourd, a gift for the new homeplace.

But shall we do with it?

Oh I think I know.

Michael cheerfully watched.

And Matty spoke most eloquently of a trifecta of encoding methods.

Why look here, the birthday girl herself.

As well the other host, Aaron having a sensational conversation with young Thayer.

But what picture is this? The pic of the night I think.

Right next to a very intent Herr Direktor.

Good times were had by all.

As Cat gives the coquettish beer swig.

And we discover that everything,

Looks better with the slow flash.

In the end I ate their ice cream.

Said hi to Althea.

And bid farewell to the most gracious hosts.

That very night morning, if you were still Dustin, you would have
dreamt that you had a test, but that you could’t go to the bathroom,
and for the first time in 20 years, wake up with a wet bed. WTF, in the
most weird manor.

To end this post in not fucked up way we have two photographic solutions, John betwixt all his shotgun paintings.

On August the 23rd, at exactly 8:23:39 PM, I took this picture of the Shins concert at McCarran Pool, Brooklyn.

I only sort of had to drag Jenna.

And the show was more chill than rocking.

But they were tight as hell, and played everything I would have ever wanted to hear and did it right.

The T-shirt selection didn’t blow my mind, but I still went for it.

On Wednesday, the office received some unexpected visitors. Old editor Bryan, still up to his same old tricks.

Patrick followed close behind, regaling all of us with untold tales of unemployed lore.

On Friday, as Nick was gracious enough to let John and I use his apartment slash editing studio, we took a try on cutting some Shotgun Project footage.  A 24 hour try. I sat and edited for 22 hours straight. John wrote copy.

I edited myself.

And ended up as cracked out as I’ve ever been.

That Monday, at the Advertising poker ring, where I got my pocket aces unluckily rivered by a very loose player.

We saw a straight flush.

By bruce.

The weekend held some quick cameo appearances, like old college chum Lauren.

Who is moving up in the picture business over on that other coast.

Saturday was another full day of the Shotgun Project editing adventure. One more long haul.

With a break in the middle for a dinner at Saigon Grill South (yes, they built another large one right below Union Sq.), with cameo numero dos, the almost professorial ex girlfriend Kerry, who seems to be traversing the hard winds of academia rather well.

To just keep editing for the rest of the night.

We interrupt this post for my girl looking delicious.

Okay, and we’re back, with some incredibly exciting breaking news. I had this great idea for a video, and I pitched it to high school friend Eli for his band Zox. And sure enough it was on. Jenna was awesome enough to buy me my first slate for my first video.

Incredible cinematographer Ben from All Day Buffet helped me set it all up.

There was so much gear.

For what was a very easy setup.

The idea revolves around shirts of many colors.

All shot on green screen.

Eli rocked it up, the whole band did. And it felt pretty good to direct my first video. Postproduction will not be as fun, seeing its huge effects job that I am painstakingly doing myself.

And all in all, even with their trailer breaking, the shoot went pretty damn well. Jenna even saved my life at the end by helping me clean up.

The weekend also meant the last day of Shotgun Project editing. Where I became artistically enshrined.

And mixed for six hours.

While nick passed out.

And I had another strung out cab ride.

That night, not knowing where to go for a nice meal, we tried Tabla on a lark, and found a table open.

Here was the most delicious watermelon salad ever made.

As well as sumptuous entrees of beef and lamb. The menu was a refreshing fusion of Indian and American. Quite surprising.

And the dessert was out of this world. The grapefruit there in the middle.

Made my girl food orgasm.

Thanks Tabla.

Sunday Jenna and I crossed another New York big one off out list: going to the Navy and Air Force museum on the USS Intrepid.

It was an amazingly large boat.

But doesn’t my girl look majestic on it.

I can’t stop telling you how large it is.

Or how cute we are.

Thanks USS Intrepid.

Thus we arrive at our final segment for this lovely blog. Princess Robert Jenna and I went back to Trailer park. The competition that gave Robert his first fifteen minutes.

We were happy to see all the new trailer mash ups.

And we even met the second place winner, who did a hilarious recut of Enter The Dragon as a blacksplotation detective flick.

The three PS contestants didn’t win, but it was a blast anyway.

And that should be enough for now.

Birthday Concert Editorial…

Around August 19th Nick celebrated another circumnavigation of the sun.

At his Chinatown loungepad.

Special guest Feisel (sp horribly guessed). Cameo by B.

The party moved up to the roof. Where cute couples.

Abounded.

Thousand words would do better than this picture. The roof hang reigns supreme, though it looks wussy here.

On the way out we met this dude who supposedly wrote an 800 page novel.

Then on Monday lost unluckily in the tournament, just to get ridiculously lucky in the cash game and make some money.

Tuesday while on my way to effects house The Mill, who did I randomly see in the streets but elder Ryang James going to touch up some pictures.

Once inside the mill only had Glasses,

And Devil Ducks.