BABY'S FIRST CELEBRITY

Get out your photo-cameras (i.e. "soul-stealers"). It's time to record a monumental event. I saw my first celebrity in Los Angeles, CA!

And that celebrity was?

Dave "Gruber" Allen!

Granted, this name may not mean much to you (i.e. "soul-stealer"), but to Freaks and Geeks fans like myself, it's quite a thrill to see the man who so wonderfully portrayed hippie-guidance counselor, Mr. Jeff Rosso.

This brings up the Celebrity Sight-O List to: 1.

1. Dave "Gruber" Allen

Who will be the next celebrity?

My fingers are crossed for the cast of Superbabies: Baby Genuises 2.

LETTERS FROM CAMP LOS ANGELES

Dear Mom and Dad (MaMa and PoPo),

First of all, I'm sorry I haven't written you in awhile. I guess Camp Los Angeles is so much fun that I forgot about letting you know how I'm doing. I''ll make sure to write more in the future. I promise. (Especially when we get internet services set up in our cabin tomorrow)

As for the the cabin, it's pretty cool. It took some time for us to find one (apparently the counselors at Camp Los Angeles don't provide you with one beforehand), but it's got new carpeting and a nice view.

Now that a living space is taken care of, it's time to look for work. That's a camp policy. To live on the grounds, you must earn a living. I hear there's a temp agency that provides work. Whatever. Pays the bills, y'know.

Well, I better get going. There's a killer on the loose and I'm getting very scared. What? I hear someone behind me. I hear their footsteps and ---

Love,
Paul

P.S. I caught a walleye and Billy Maguver split his pants at the campfire!

Hand in those applictions and shake those landlord's hands. You're lookin' for an apartment, brother.

Adam and I just got done doing such activities in hopes of securing our first apartment in Shiney-Time City, California. In the meantime, we've been staying at our friend Neil's - who is very gracious and caring in his hospitality.

Rumor has it (according to Access Hollywood) that we may know if we'll have our apartment... by the end of the day! With luck, our phone will ring as the sun sets slowly in the west. Or 9pm at the very least.

To ease your worries, I think we got a good shot. And do you know what potentially "sealed the deal?" The landlord's from Nebraska. Nebraska! Adam and I are from western Iowa! It's like we're practically brothers... brothers who visit each other on the holidays! And at funerals!

Have you called your relatives lately? Pick up that phone. I'm sure they miss you.

I've landed in Los Angeles, California.

To commence meetings, I blow the conch shell.

Piggy will die. Simon is a Christ figure.

Now I just need to find an apartment and get a job.

God bless all those who began kindergarten in 1987.

For them... every four years... all the major events happen: the olympics, presidential elections, and new beginnings.

Like me!

1992:
Olympics - "Dan VS. Dave" fever sweeps the nation. Reebok later murders both.
Elections - Clinton beats Bush. Reebok plans both of their assasinations.
Me - I enter "JUNIOR HIGH" - in addition to the slow, hellish descent that is puberty.

1996:
Olympics - Girls' gymnastic team captures America's attention... and attention!
Elections - Bob Dole enters oval office - to hide behind a couch and weep at what might have been.
Me - "HIGH SCHOOL" kicks in gear. Four years of cuttin' class and grabbin' ass!

2000:
Olympics - Mad scientist controls results of all events. No one notices.
Elections - Bush (Republican Party) beats Al Gore (Republican Party II).
Me - "COLLEGE" is here. I run for student government and beat Bob Dole and a mad scientist - whose main platform is "Change the Olympics, Change the World" (I forget what the mad scientist's platform was though).

2004:
Olympics - In effect, y'all!
Elections - Entertainment Tonight says Ben Affleck is a Democrat!
Me - Today, on August 20th, I head west to Los Angeles, California. Puberty is officially complete (although I anticipate my pubic hair to begin growing at any moment)

Your Friend,
Paul

Why do we listen to Paul Harvey?

This isn't a judgement hidden in a rhetorical question. I am legitimately asking: What is the main reason we listen to Paul Harvey?

Answer: To hear him say, "And now you know... the rest of the story" at the end of his segments. Obviously.

That's why we sit through a seemingly endless anecdote about an Olympic horse-starver when we could be listening to Britney Spears' "Toxic" instead.

"And now you know... the rest of the story" is the sweet-turkey-gravy payoff for eating your hydrated-level-4 pizza. Is it ready?!!!

So, imagine my disappointment as I drive to Altoona, Iowa to visit a friend, listening to Paul Harvey on the radio, and I hear:

"And now you know... the rest ---"

OBNOXIOUS AUTO DEALERSHIP AD INTERRUPTS!!!

I was miffed. Perturbed, some might say.

Regardless...

Now you know... the rest of the ---

FART!!!

THE SHIT I FIND (AS I CLEAN MY BEDROOM): A Paul Rust Tell-All

In the top drawer of my bedroom dresser, I found one Ziploc bag filled with human hair. This was two minutes after I unearthed a folded, brown paper bag which also contained human hair.

What's going on?

This, mind you, all happened as I talked to my sister Amy on the phone. She thought it was... yes, gross and weird. Later, she informed me the hair probably had bugs in it. Gouche.


On a sidenote... my sister Amy just completed teaching her "Bloody Shots, Reeling Spectators: America’s Violent Cinema" course at Berkeley. And guess what? At the completion of the final class, her students all applauded her. They liked the class that much. I've never been in a college course where the students all cheered for the teacher.

So, yeah... my sister got applause for teaching a class about the history of film violence.

My sister is cooler than your sister.

Friday the 13th was today and although Jason Voorhies didn't punch off my head from the top of a Manhattan skyscraper, various other forms of bad luck abounded.

Cases. In. Point.

ONE:
Twenty minutes into Collateral, a woman and her mother enter the theatre. My friends and I are chillin' in the front row and just as Tom "Silver Fox" Cruise is leaving for his first hit, the mother trips and falls right in front of us.
Her daughter runs to her help. Jake and Rick lean over to assist. Apparently, on her way down, the mother smacked her face onto Jake's kneecap. She's not getting up. And when she tries, she's in too much pain and falls over again.
Fortunately, she recovers. Her daughter gets her some ice for her eye. And although it is unknown exactly how she tripped (something about a railing?), all is well by Silver Fox's second hit.

TWO:
Only one half-hour after Collateral, Rick and I are browsing in the mall. On our walk from The Gap to the Cafe Court, I look to my left and see an 8 year-old girl collapse backwards to the floor - thwacking the base of her head on the surface. There's a dull thud. Her party (a mother and other children) look on in shock.
Then things get really bad when the little girl begins to twitch. Her head shakes back and forth and her arms clench up like a T-Rex's. The most horrifying part? Hearing her mother scream in panic, "Hel - my daugh - help!" to the guy at Gadzook's. Rick goes over to help and dials "911" on his cell phone.
Soon enough, a crowd forms. Policemen and ambulance drivers appear. Everything's taken care of - as far as we can tell.

THREE:
There really is no "3" - but one hour is left before Friday the 13th is done, so anything can happen. Perhaps you will fall down? Eh? Eh?

Somebody could argue, however, that one other nasty occurence was how on two occasions, people were in a state of emergency and I just watched while other people came to their rescue. Yeah, I know. I can tell myself that it's because I know it's been taken care of and I don't want to get in the way, but... still...

When I first watched "Friday the 13th Part 8," I did nothing for that guy who got his head punched off from the top of a Manhattan skyscraper.

Momma Rust and Pauly Dangerfield go shoppin'.

I owed my mom $160. She said, "Hey, you need new clothes for California and I'm goin' to spend money for these clothes anyway, so why don't you just use that $160 and we'll call it even?"

I said, "Yes" and off we went to Southern Hills Mall for killer threads. Pants. Dress shirts. A new pair of jeans.

Today was the first time I went to a clothing store and bought "brand-new" clothes since... May 2003. Nearly 15 months. And that was a blue t-shirt at Wal-Mart. This makes me better/worse than you.

Clearly, I'm not much of a clothes shopper. In fact, I am annoyed when people talk about buying clothes or even their personal "fashion style" for that matter or any of that blah-blah-blah - except, of course, when my friend ________ does it (That's if anybody reads this and thinks I'm talking about them. I'm not. Insert your name. You're my friend and I like you. Honest. No, really, honest).

So, despite my dislike for such jibber-jabber, I'll write about such matters in my blog. Or write around it at least.

Basically, buying clothes is tough for me. Not in a "Ehhhh, I can't choose what to buy" way, but in a "Man-alive, I can't logistically buy clothes" way.

When I go into men's clothing sections, most of them don't carry clothes that reasonably fit me (admittedly, I am small, but I suspect this has to do with the majority of Northwest Iowan men being goddamn fat-asses).

So, I go into boy's clothing sections instead, but all of them are too tiny. Even if they did fit, I wouldn't want to wear shirts featuring tigers on top of Ferraris with "Makenzie" written in graffitti font. Also, there's no getting around it: trying on clothes in the boy's dressing rooms will always make you look like a pedophile. This has been proven through experiments.

Whatever. I acknowledge this is a complaint of luxury. I should (and more often than not) do appreciate my body size. Because I know in a few, short years, my cheeks will puff-and-sag, my neck will turn gobbler, and that inevitable gut-belly will rear its ugly head out of the bottom of my t-shirts.

Ehhhhh. I hate this blog. It's the blog equivalent of being caught gazing in the mirror. Or worse, it's the blog equivalent of those awful proud-to-be-different "Chicks Dig Pale, Scrawny Guys" shirts.

Code Adam.

On Monday, a child was lost in Wal-Mart. This is known as a "Code Adam."

The announcer on the PA says, "Wal-Mart assoicates, we have a Code Adam - a boy with khaki shorts and a t-shirt that says United Methodist."

Then everybody goes looking for him.

I don't really comprehend why a code needs to be used for this - especially when it becomes abundantly clear within context that we're talking about a human being here. It's not as if a bomb threat is going to have khaki shorts and a t-shirt for a local church.

The child was difficult to find. It took nearly 10 minutes, which is unheard of.

Needless to say, I was very intrigued by all this. Abductions. Lost children. Runaways. All of this is endlessly fascinating for me.

I tried running away from home when I was five years old. I packed my bags and announced to my entire family what I was doing. I got to the front door - with no one watching (just sitting in the basement, watching TV). And I started bawling and ran back into the house.

My sister was waiting around the corner for me.

Heavens to Betsy('s Wedding). I've missed my boat. And airplane. And dirigible.

For a few days, I had planned to acknowledge my "visitor barometer" and urge the 10,000th blog visitor to sign my guestbook (forever spitting on the fertile seeds of Father time).

However, much to the dismay of record-keepers everywhere, the opportunity's come and gone and I've missed my chance. Schmack.

If, for whatever reason, you happen to remember that you (YOU!) were the 10,000th maniac, then by all means, sign that goddamn guestbook. It's your civic duty. If you don't, it's like watching "American Idol" and not voting afterwards (i.e. stealing).

I am bracing myself for no sign(ature) from the myster visitor. Instead, I will imagine who the 10,000th visitor was. It'd like to think it was a famous general - adorned in medals and knives. And he's so cute!

Who's your fantasy 10,000th visitor?

Stacy said it was Bobby Moorhouser. What?! I'm just sayin'!

This weekend, if you happen to be in the greater LeMars metropolitan area, I highly encourage you to attend...

DAVID MOWS YARDS
a movie by paul rust

Saturday, August 7th
7:30pm and 9:30pm
LeMars Community Theatre
Free Admission - Free Will Donation

Was shot in LeMars. Will screen in LeMars. Shall die and rot in LeMars.

Here's a "LeMars Daily Sentinel" article about me and my movie. It's not me at my most elequent, but... your father and I still love you all the same.

Plus, there's big rock news. Nearly-to-the-day of 8 years ago, in the August before my freshman year of high school, I bought a modest CD known as Doolittle from the BMG Music Club. After hearing the opening track of "Debaser" (a song I promptly concluded held a sound that "I wanted all my life and finally had made for me"), I fell in love with its makers, The Pixies.

For many years afterwards, after purchasing all their records and side-projects' records and sound-alike-bands' records (RIP Toadies, Local H), disenchanted friends and I would lament how "this is the band that will never reunite." Alas, we'd never see our favorite rock-n-rollers live in concert.

But now I'm proud to report that I will be proven quite wrong when I see them in concert on Thursday, September 23rd in Los Angeles, California.

Tee-ight!

Special acknowledgement: My buddy Neil took the task of purchasing the tickets, so props go to him. If you see him on the street, say, "Thanks, Neil. You made the guy-whose-blog-I-read very happy."

Some feller known as CharmedSlayer316 on "The Internet Has a Database For Your Movies.Com" went to the summer blockbuster Catwoman and had a lot of burning questions afterwards. He wants them answered, dammit! Since I've seen the movie, I will answer them for him. Enjoy!

1. At the beginning of the movie, did you realize that the characters wore the same thing at Hedare Cosmetics for two days in a row?

Yes, but they explained this. You must have been out of the theatre (getting popcorn-and-green-beans) when the Hedare Cosmetics boss said, "Alright, everybody. New company policy. You've heard of Casual Fridays? Tomorrow is Po' Folk Tuesdays. You must wear the same clothes for two days in a row, carry your lunch in a plastic Hy-Vee bag, and wear Pamida Pumpers."


2. If Patience wanted to get her partying neighbors attention pre-Catwoman, why didn't she just go to their door like she did later in the film?

At the time, Patience had a rare condition (in this day and age) called Mingler's Syndrome. Basically, the symptoms are being afraid of doors and specifically, "going to their door." Fortunately, however, Patience isn't afraid of those famed rock-n-rollers known as "The Doors." Live on, Morrison (Toni)! Impeach Bush.


3. How did Tom Lone get into Patience's house when he thought she was going to jump off the air condition?

There are many things in this world "with conditions," CharmedSlayer316. Love. Honor. Glory. But one thing that is certainly without condition is air. Learn that first and the answer lies before you, child.


4. Why the hell would you climb on an air condition? For a cat?

Why did Hercules build temples for Hera? Why did Cain murder Abel? These are all larger mythic questions that we have been asking ourselves for ages.

Plus, Patience likes kitties! A lot! She thinks they're cute and wants to pet them! With her hands!


5. And how in the world did the Mau cat get into Patience's house? Magic?

If you and this world are so jaded that it cannot believe a Mau cat can enter a home through the power of magic, then perhaps... I do not want to be a part of such a world.


6. Tell the truth, wasn't Alex Borstein the funniest person in the movie?

Guilty as charged!


7. Did you notice Patience kept loosing her shoes?

I assume this is a spelling error and you meant to write, "foobing her shouls." The reason Patience kept "foobing her shouls" is because she is diabetic. Case closed. Impeach Bush.


8. When they were chasing her, why didn't Patience leave the same way she came out, but instead she had to run toward the pipes?

"Running Toward the Pipes" is as long-standing of a tradition as Spain's heralded "Running of the Bulls" and Holland's beloved "Swimming Near the Leaky Rowboat." Patience was simply participating in one of America's greatest traditions. Or didn't you know that, Benedict Arnold?


9. Did you see how fake that cat was that ressurected her?

CharmedSlayer316, this seems less like a question and more of an opportunity to backhand the movie. It'd be like if I asked: "Hey, why are you being such a prick about that cat who ressurected Patience?"


10. Why did Benjamin Bratt take it upon himself to show his chest in the basketball part? Can you say ugh?

Yes, I can say "Ugh." But I can also say, "Hot damn! Me so horny for Latins!"


11. Is it me or does Sharon Stone need some sunlight?

Mm-hmm. I've talked it over with many others and yes, a majority of them agreed that Sharon Stone does indeed "need some sunlight." Good job.


12. How Patience started the motorcycle without keys?

Mind control. Cats have this power. I once saw my cat Minnie start a vaccum cleaner just by farting on it.


13. And when she cut her hair, how did she do that so quick?

In the vast and complex World of Film, there is a Republic of Editing. This nation's major policies include: 1) instituting a consistent sense of space and time, 2) creating a desired mood, style, and/or tone, and 3) cuttin' out the boring parts. Although test audiences were requesting (nay, demanding) that the film show the entire, lengthy process of Patience cutting her hair, the producers nixed the idea, citing: "Let's piss off CharmedSlayer316."


14. How did Patience create that Catwoman suit so quickly?

From 1997 to 1999, Patience was Lead Fashion Consultant for "Hott-n-Skanky," Remsen-Union High School's premiere drill team. Why, I heard she made 37 outfits in one fortnight!


15. What did Sharon Stone cut her husband with that made it look like cat claws?

"Cat-Claw Knives" from Norelco, Inc. We sell them in the Hardware Department at Wal-Mart. Come out sometime and I'll show them to you. They're right next to the product known as "Kiss my ass!"


16. Who is running Hedare now that they all are dead?

Chris Harris. He's a pretty good guy. He can be a dick from time to time, but all in all, he's a stand-up guy.


17. Shouldn't the whole police force know that Catwoman is really Patience?

Yes and you've picked up on something very important, CharmedSlayer316. Fortunately, there will be a specialized Federal commision investigating exactly why the police force didn't know Catwoman is really Patience and more importantly, who messed this up! Impeach Bush.


18. Didn't that catlady have one cheap staircase to push Patience off from it?

"That Catlady" you're referring to is my mother. Thanks a lot, CharmedSlayer316. Thanks a lot.


19. Did the ending seem soo much like Spider-Man?

Yes - especially the part where Tobey Maguire came out and said, "Yo, Patience! I'm Spiderman 2! Where's my Seabisquits?!"


And that, as they say, is that.

My buddy Adam read in a book once that John Lennon was paranoid about what Bob Dylan thought of him. He wanted to be cool in Dylan's eyes.

Aw, yes. God love geniuses who are insecure.

I'd like to think that Thomas Edison was always asking Albert Einstein's friends, "So... what's, like, Einstein say about me? Does he ever mention me?"

And they'd be like, "No. He doesn't talk about you."

Then Edison's head would drop a bit. He'd kick at the dirt.

"But... don't let that bother you," Einstein's friends would be quick to add. "He doesn't talk about anybody, really. He's a pretty quiet guy."

"Yeah, I can - I can see that," Edison would mutter, nodding his head. "But there's gotta' be... you know, something he said. Once. Right?"

"I guess... I think... I think he said the lightbulb was a pretty cool idea."

"Really? He said that? Einstein said that?"

"Yeah... maybe. I think so. Yeah. I think so."

Edison would beam - then he'd go and brag to his family members at the Edison Reunion that him and Einstein are "best friends."

Everyone would believe him except Edison's cousin Keith. He knows better.