You can't swing a dead cat in this town without hitting a celebrity!

CELEBRITY SIGHT-O-LIST:
1. Dave "Gruber" Allen (Monday, August 30th, 2004)
2. Gedde Watanabe (Tuesday, September 14th, 2004)
3. Joey Pantoliano (Sunday, September 19th, 2004)
4. Patrick Renna (Monday, September 20th, 2004)
5. Randy Jackson (Tuesday, September 21st, 2004)

Patrick Renna, of course, masterfully portrayed Hamilton "Ham" Porter in 1993's The Sandlot. Likewise, he also masterfully portrayed a man eating burritos with his skateboarder friends on Virgil last Monday.

As for Randy Jackson, I saw him buying cigarettes at a Mobil gas station. Although Mr. Jackson may dish out stinging barbs as a judge on "American Idol," he was nothing but cordial by allowing me to budge ahead of him, so I could get a key for the bathroom.

Wow. Three celebrities in three days! Read 'em and weep, Leeza Gibbons!

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

CELEBRITY SIGHT-O-LIST:
1. Dave "Gruber" Allen (Monday, August 30th, 2004)
2. Gedde Watanabe (Tuesday, September 14th, 2004)
3. Joey Pantoliano (Sunday, September 19th, 2004)

This afternoon, I saw Joey "I Eat Steak Outside of the Matrix" Pantoliano (AKA Joey "The Goonies Make Me Crunch My Nuts on a Log" Pantoliano) (AKA Joey "Paul's Never Seen The Sopranos, So He Can't Reference It" Pantoliano).

He was outside Starbucks at the Sherman Oaks Galleria. He was shoving his cell phone into another person's face. Holly-weird!

I'd just like to take this moment and point out how illustrious and star-driven my Celebrity Sight-o-List is.

Thank you.

After nearly four weeks in Los Angeles, California, I finally secured a job yesterday. I'm logging footage for the new reality-series version of Gilligan's Island.

What's "logging" you ask? Well, I watch numerous videotapes (containing hours and hours of footage shot for the show) and write in a computer what happened in those tapes. That way, other folks can read the logs and figure out how to create a narrative using this information. So far, it's a pretty cool job. I would tell you more, but I signed a confidentiality agreement.

Instead of making a dumb "I'd have to kill you" joke right now, I'll just share a humorous story with you: Last week, I woke up in the middle of the night to go pee and it wasn't until 15 seconds of urination that I realized I was pissing on my closed toilet seat.

I'd tell you more... but then I'd have to kill you.

Rumors are circulating that there's been another addition to the Celebrity Sight-o-List.

Well, folks! The rumors are true!

CELEBRITY SIGHT-O-LIST:
1. Dave "Gruber" Allen (Monday, August 30th, 2004)
2. Gedde Watanabe (Tuesday, September 14th, 2004)

Watanabe, of course, portrayed 1984's favorite foriegn-exchange student, Long Duk Dong, from John Hughes' landmark Sixteen Candles. He was drinking tea with a friend.


NOTE:

Some of you maybe wondering, "But, Paul, you saw Alex Trebek yesterday. Why didn't he make the Celebrity Sight-o-List?" Well, that's because I have certain guidelines. Geeze, you can be so accusatory. Asshole.

One rule: All brushes-with-celebrity must be spontaneous. I knew, for instance, that going to Jeopardy! would guarantee a celebrity-sighting. The same was true with seeing Bob Odenkirk at the Comedy Death Ray show or Vincent Gallo at the Brown Bunny vs. Predator screening.

However, if I had gone to Jeopardy! and seen... Prince... in the audience, I could have put Prince on the list. But I didn't see Prince. I saw Alex Trebek make jokes about his daughter having cross-eyes.

Triple Double indeed!

Yesterday, Adam and I went to a taping of Jeopardy!

It was way awesome. Beloved host Alex Trebek made jokes about how he enjoys female sportscasters on ESPN (because he can watch them be hot) and kidded that a stupid guy on the crew was hired because of "The Americans with Disabilities Act."

What a nice, grown man.

And to answer your question... no, we did not get to see Jeopardy! contestant Ken "75 Wins" Jennings in action. In case you haven't heard, he lost last Thursday (which happened to be the show's previous day of shooting). This means that Adam and I were one day away from seeing "The Great Fall of Jennings."

Awwww, well.

Fortunately, we did get to see a photo of Alex Trebek's young children on jumbo TV screens. And in his charateristic trait of limitless compassion, Mr. Trebek commented how his 8 year-old daughter looked cross-eyed.

Daily Double indeed!

How long have I had the last name "Rust?" 8 - maybe 10 - years? At the very least, 14.

And all this time, I never once considered the full meaning of my last name...

Until three days ago when it hit me.

Corrosion. Decay. Decomposition.

You, my friends, are "rust."

These, of course, are interesting "last name" synonyms for somone who fetishizes freshly-opened DVD's over crumbling paperbacks and who clutches his youthful vitality in fear of an open casket (AKA beer-guts and interest rates).

Granted, I'm not going to take much stock in a name I happened to be born with, but for someone as self-obsessed as myself, I don't know why it took me so long to consider its ramifications.

Watch Paul Decay Age Behind Glass.

Patrick stands on The Price is Right stage, staring at prizes he may or may not win. There's luggage. There's pots and pans. There's golf clubs.

Patrick is going to be a freshman at college this year and Bob Barker (with his decades of broadcasting experience) knows there's a story in all of this. There's drama.

BOB BARKER: As a freshman, you'll probably need luggage, right?
PATRICK: (nervously) Yes, yes. I will. Yes.
BOB BARKER: And you'll be living in a dorm, so...

Right then is when I know what Bob is doing. After all this chit-chat and conversational foreplay, Bob's going to proclaim, "At college... you'll need... that!" He'll point to his left, the curtain will rise, and parked before Bob and Patrick will be a brand-new, shiny car. Patrick's gonna' crap his pants.

So I await the big reveal.

BOB BARKER: (continued) ... You probably won't need pots and pans.
PATRICK: No, no. I won't.
BOB BARKER: How about the golf clubs? Do you golf?
PATRICK: No, but I've always wanted to learn.
BOB BARKER: But in a few years, after you graduate, you could use...

Here it comes. Brace yourselves.

BOB BARKER: ... the pots and pans.
PATRICK: The pots and pans, yeah.

The suspsense tightens. Bob's playing Patty like a fiddle - a big, college-freshman fiddle.

The car will appear any moment now. I'm tapping my foot and shifting back and forth. I'm more invested in this than Bob, Patrick, or any member of the studio audience. Then Bob says the magic words.

BOB BARKER: So... let's start the game, shall we?

Uh.

Huh.

No car. They begin their game and I lose interest.

In the end, Patrick won that luggage. Those pots and pans. Those golf clubs.

Then, two commercial breaks later, Patrick spins that big wheel, hits "100" and "15," and wins five thousand dollars.

So, who needs a car anyway?

Still... y'know... it would have been nice.

PAUL RANKS THE SUMMER BLOCKBUSTERS

This past summer, I saw 19 motion pictures in the theatre. I had been waiting to introduce this ranking until I saw Alien Vs. Predator or The Exorcist: The Beginning or some other late-August franchise release, but instead, I went to The Brown Bunny Vs. Predator. Guess what? Predator won!

JUST SO YOU KNOW: Titles most notably missing from this list are: Van Helsing, The Chronicles of Riddick, and The Bourne Supremacy. Apparently, I have no interest in seeing films about lone men taking on large, villianous syndicates. Then again, I did see Sleepover.

So, without further a-glue...

TOP FIVE:
1. Anchorman
Tonight's Story: This newsman delivers!

2. Spiderman 2: Mystery of The White Stallions
Spiderman 2 swings with action and humor - and really soars!

3. The Terminal
This movie gave me Terminal bliss!

4. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Harry Potter casts a magical spell of wonder and awe!

5. Collateral
I liked collater-all of it.

MIDDLE 7:
6. I, Robot
I, Robot? I, Entertained!

7. The Manchurian Candidate
Sorry, George W. Bush and John Leroy Kerry. I'm casting my vote for The Manchurain Candidate.

8. The Day After Tomorrow
I'd see this movie today, tomorrow, and... a couple days after that!

9. Shrek 2
Eddie Murphy made me laugh ogre... and ogre... and ogre!

10. The Brown Bunny
I heard The Brown Bunny is going to have a sequel. 36 of them in one day!

11. Hero
If this Hero was a hero-sandwich, it'd be six inches long, smothered in meatballs, and taste, y'know, pretty good. Not great or anything, but alright.

12. Troy
I've never been inside a fake, wooden horse.


BOTTOM 7:
13. Farenheit 9/11
Michael Moore: Conflicting Those With Progressive Ideals, But Who Still Have Good Taste Since 1989.

14. Garfield: The Movie
I realized how this movie didn't reach its full potential when my friend Rick said he wanted a scene where Garfield wore a tuxedo and posed as a human waiter. I have my fingers crossed for a deleted scene on the DVD.

15. The Village
One village. 300 idiots.

16. Sleepover
During the movie, I sat between two people. In case a killer came in, he'd kill the two people around me first.

17. Dodgeball
I pick you last for my team! And third-to-last on my summer movie ranking.

18. White Chicks
Get out of my way-ans!

19. Catwoman
Me-ouch! Catwoman dumped her litterbox into my bag of popcorn! Now I'm eating cat turds instead of popcorn!

Bye, friends! Take me out to the ballgame indeed!

KIDS KORNER

Hey, kids. As you know, early September means two things:

1. The official start of the new school-year
and
2. The official start of the new teacher-prankin' season

As such, here's a Patented Paul Rust Prank that is sure to have them laffin' in the classroom. Try this one on next Friday:

TEACHER: Alright, everybody. And remember to bring (such-and-such an item) to school tomorrow.
FUNNY STUDENT: But, teacher... tomorrow's Saturday!

Of course, this all hinges on being a Friday and having the teacher reference the next day, but believe me... this prank is golden!

See you next Saturday at... KIDS KORNER.

One magical night, Frankie Muniz (from TV's Malcolm Likes The Middle) was on Late Night with Conan O'Brien.

While pitching Agent Cody Banks 2: Destination Likes London, he discussed how he won a "Pimped-Out SUV" contest.

The audience gasped in shock... and wonder.

Conan inquired exactly what Francis' SUV contained that made it so worthy of such a high honor.

"It has everything," Senor Muniz bragged. "It's got two CD players, three TV sets... and a VCR."

Really, Frankie? A VCR? Wow. I bet you can watch your VHS copy of Money Train whenever you want, huh?!

Hey, Sir Francis Muniz, here's a word of warning: you better stay outta' my neighborhood! I'll slit you from ear to ear and take your award-winning SUV.

Oh, dear. Yes. I gotta' get my hands on some of that sweet VCR!

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.

I'm sick.

I went to the doctor today and he determined it's a case of allergies. Ragweed, he said. Funny. Usually, it's Rag-time that gives me da' fever... in my feet!

And my heart, child. And my heart.

So, my nose is runny. My throat is cough-y. And my ears are plugged up.

Sick.

Consequently, I don't feel like putting much time into writing a blog today. I just want to bitch-n-moan about my health.

Hmmmm. Nobody likes blog entries like this.

But don't worry... soon, I will be restored to full heel-clicking health and we can all sit back and laugh about the day Ol' Man Ragweed pulled a fast one on Pauly Dangerfield.

Let the MEDIA SATURATION begin!

Despite the presence of the Democratic National Convention and the more newsworthy 2004 Plymouth County Fair, I am still finding a way to get my fat mug on local media outlets.  Yesterday, I was interviewed on KCAU-ABC's Live at Five program and was featured in pieces on KMEG-CBS' 6 o'clock and 10 o'clock news programs. 

The occasion?

The upcoming screening of David Mows Yards at the LeMars Community Theatre on Saturday, August 7th (at 7:30pm and 9:30pm).

It should be mentioned that these TV appearances existed through the iron-horse publicity work of Frances Krull - who plays "Carol" in the aforementioned movie.    Not only did she secure those opportunities for publicity, but these as well:

1. Thursday, July 29th (12pm)
    Interview on news
    KCAU-ABC

2. Tuesday, August 3rd (11:30pm)
    Interview on "What Now" program
    KLEM Radio (1410 AM)

3. Saturday, August 7th (8:30am)
    Interview on "Around Siouxland"
    KTIV-NBC

I am also being interviewed for articles in "trade papers" such as The Daily Sentinel, Sioux City Journal, and The Weekender.   You subscribe to these all.

Of course, the whole point of doing these things is to find a way to be a subversive, little ass, right?  Yes.   Before yesterday's TV interview, my friend Rick and I were brainstorming things that I could do such as:

1.  Answer questions in short, violent sentences ("This is a movie.  I made it.  It's called David Mows Yards.  I was in it.  It's about lawnmowing.")

2.  Refer to the interviewer as if you know his own personal history.  ("Well, Larry, this movie takes place in my hometown LeMars, but it's like anybody's hometown - like yours in Storm Lake, Iowa.")  Note:  It's best if newscaster Larry Wentz never grew up in Storm Lake, Iowa.

3. Give false information.  ("David Mows Yards is about a boy mowing older women's yards - all set against the backdrop of the Waco, Texas tragedy.")

Clearly, I chickened out and did none of these. 

Ah, well.  There'll be other opportunities.  Just like in life! 

On returning from their trip to San Francisco, my mother Jeanne and her mother Joan (GRANDMA JOAN!!!) had an unexpected lay-over in Las Vegas, Nevada.  Consequently, they must spend the night in "Sinners' City." 

I cannot say what will happen to these two women, but clearly, their story will be optioned by the folks in Holly-weird and made into a movie.  These will be the possible titles:

1. Joan and Jeanne: Two J's Kickin' A (As in "Your Ass")
2. Betting Big, Driving Sensibly: The Joanie and Jean-Dog Neon-Soaked Dilemma
3. Black Jack Joan and Gin-Rummy Jeanne: How the West Was Fun
4. Vega$: Where All the S's Are $pelled With Dollar $ign$
5. That's Why We Can't Have Nice Things (But We're Going to Change That): How J&J Stole Brewster's Millions
6. The Banger Sisters 2
7. Mamma' Joan and Momma Jean: I Bet When Our Respective Grandson and Son Thinks About Us in Las Vegas, It Makes Him Feel Weird
8. Uh-huh, Uh-huh... Yeah, Uh-huh: This is How We Both Talk on the Phone
 
Have you talked to your mother on the phone lately?  Give her a call.  I bet she'd love to talk to you.

 
     

A 1989 Chevy Corsica has been an honorary member of the Rust family for 13 years.  And after all these years, Ol' Man Time-y Tutone has not been "nice" to this car.  

The air conditioning doesn't work, the driver's side door doesn't close all the way (and is prone to swing open when turning corners), and the engine dies when the weather's hottt.  Kids call it "a piece of shit." The Rusts call it "our piece of shit."

Most of the time, my poppa drives this car, but a few weeks ago, I drove it to work at Wal-Mart.

Hours later, as I'm driving home, the car inevitably starts sputtering and stuttering in the summer heat.  It stalls after I turn it on.  It stalls when I leave the parking lot.  It stalls while I wait for a traffic light.  This car's stallin' more than Lesley... Stahl.  Brah.

Still, I persevere.

But this whole time, I'm sweatin' - and not just because it's 97 degress out.  I'm worried that the car will stop dead-center in the approaching intersection.  I imagine the impending desturction...  

a cement truck barrels into me and then a garbage truck crashes into that, then a bunch of cars pile up, and a giant zeppelin falls from the sky and lands on it all. 
 
then, a bird farts.

But as can be expected by the "Paul-meister" (copyright - patent pending), I keeps my kool though the whole ordeal.  I tap the brakes just so and don't make any sudden movements and I pass through the intersection with no signs of fiery death.

Then... a few moments pass... a minute goes by...  and I realized that...

I'd been listening to Phil Collin's "In the Air Tonight" on the radio the whole time.

Jesus.  I hate that song.  It's the worst.  Ever.

I turned the radio off.

 
I'm beginning to realize that I only get bummed about things when I'm comfortable (and have the opportunity to nit-pick minor details).  When you're fighting for "survival," stuff like a bad Phil Collins song don't matter. 

That's why rich, priveleged people kill themselves and poor, life-day-to-day people don't.

Not a generalization whatsoever.
      

If your mother is a junior-high teacher, I highly suggest you go into a local video store with her.

That way, you are with her when she runs into students.

My promise: They will stare at you as if you're an exotic creature unknown to this earth. 

Indeed, have you forgotten how weird it was to run into teachers in public?  They wear jeans?!  Or more shockingly:  They wear sweatpants?!   

Have you also forgotten how weird it was to see them with their "older kids" - the ones they would occasionally mention in class and you dared to conceive in your mind's eye?  I hear she does drugs!  Or more shockingly:  I hear she wears sweatpants!
 
Yes, I am the "older kid."  I may or may not have done that thing you heard I did.  Your older sibling may or may not have "known me in high school."  This is why I'm intriguing.  To all of you.
 
Insider's tip:  Act like you don't notice your mother's students.  It makes you seem cooler and more dangerous.

I've randomly chosen five movie stars and pitted the first two movies of their filmographies against each other.  Let the games begin (and the blood pour from the losers' throats)! 

1. Sigourney Weaver
Annie Hall (1977) vs. Madman (1978)

Some would say that Mr. Woody Allen is a Madman (considering how weird he can get)!  However, if I had a gun to my head (which I do), I would choose Madman as the clear-cut winner. 

 
2. Jeff Goldblum
Death Wish (1974) vs. California Split (1974)

For centuries, man has wondered who would win if Death indeed battled California.  But what about the far-more fascinating face-off between Wish and Split?  If I had my druthers (which I do), I would wish that my pants would split.  And then I'd get my period in my stone-washed jeans in front of Mark Palarro! 

Obviously, this is a tie.

 
3. Ned Beatty
Deliverance (1972) vs. The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean (1972)

Political pundits have agreed that the debate over these two titles will decide this year's upcoming election.  Insiders are whispering that Bush will be "pro-Bean" whereas Kerry's campaign insist he is not "anti-Deliverance."  Whatever the case, I'm sure Bill's O'Reilly Factor has something to say about it!

My choice?  I'm avoiding the whole debate and voting for Shadows in the Storm.  Gotta' catch it!

 
4. Dennis Quaid
Crazy Mama (1975) vs. 9/30/55 (1977)

Hands down, 9/30/55 wins this competition!  Admittedly, I am a little biased.  September 30th, 1955 always had a special place in my heart.  It was the day I lost my virginity... to Scrabble! 

I'll never know why that homeless man called himself "Scrabble."

 
5. Marie Dionne
The Country Doctor (1936) vs.  Going on Two (1936)

Talk about your tough decisions!  It's like asking me to choose between children!

As such, Going on Two is the child you brag about to your co-workers at Wells Fargo and The Country Doctor is the child you say overdosed while studying abroad.

 
Don't let somebody else decide for you!  Vote!

 

 

Every three hours,  my wrist-watch beeps.  Just one beep - very brief and very, very quiet.
 
"I need to fix that," I thought to myself.
 
And why - did I tell myself - did this watch needed to be fixed?
 
"So if I'm hiding from a killer, my watch won't beep, so the killer can't find me."
 
Yep, Paul.  That's why your watch needs to be fixed. 

Sorry, blog-readers.
 
Vacation-time + inaccessiblity to computers =
 
BROWNIES!!!
 
But now I'm done eating my brownies and the regular blog-updating will resume.
 
Ciao, brownies! 

This Friday, my buddy Michele and I are going to Six Flags: Great America.

It's italicized because not only is it a theme park, but also, a big-budget movie.

It stars Kurt Russel and Thadie Newton as theme park security guards who have to stop a run-away rollercoaster - before it crashes into the sun.

Michele and I will be extras in the movie. We're going to stand outside the perimeter of scenes and look right into the camera. Then ol' Kurt and Thadie will say, "Stop the camera! Stop the camera! Can we do something about these two?!"

The director will nod yes...

And replace Kurt and Thadie with me and Michele.

Sweet justice, Russel and Newton! Sweet justice.

Speaking of Russel and Newton, I have to go. I'm adopting a Jack Russel Terrier dog and eating a big bag of Fig Newtons - at the same time!

This evening, my niece and Alexis went to the new movie Sleepover.

Did you ever wonder what Ferris Bueller would be like if he was a 14 year-old girl? Or perhaps - 4 separate 14 year-old girls? And did you ever wonder what it would be like if instead of sneaking out of his house for a "day-off," Ferris was actually participating in a scavenger hunt against a rival group of snobby girls? If so...

Then boy, do I got a movie for you!

The Bourne Supremacy comes out next week!

You could also see Sleepover if you wish.

My favorite line?

"Mom, for the love of carbs!"

You heard right. That's the line.

This will be my new expression... for everything. Exasperation. Fear. Love. You name it. "Mom, for the love of carbs" says it all.

Friday afternoon: it's hottt as the blazes, but I'm determined to run around the ol' track-and-field for some American-style exercisin'.

So I'm running - listening to somes tuuunes on my portable Compact Disc Player (TM) - and yes, it is very, very hot. I take off my shirt to cool down. Hot shit!

As I turn the corner of the track, I sees me a car - on the other end of the track, outside of the fence. And wouldn't you know? That sonuvabitch is slowin' down.

And it becomes clear to me that... yes, this automobile is goin' tortoise because the driver and passengers want to catch a glimpse of the fast-action Paul-bod. Hot-blooded teenage girls dropping the speedometer to 10mph, so they can witness a well-oiled machine in action. These voyueristic-girly-girls know one thing for sure: you can't experience biological perfection when you're goin' 35 in a 25.

And I'm thinkin'... that's right. I maybe scrawny - a body of bones and wires, but some girls - some foxes - dig this sweetness. This is a skinny-boy revolution. "Bones painted the color of skin" is the new Pumping Iron. Shoulder-blades and rib-cages are the founding blocks of Ladies-in-the-Mood Headquarters.

Up ahead, outside the fence, I see that despite its inconceivable slowness, the Teenage-Girl-Mobile is steadily reachin' its stop-sign (and consequently, their departure from the track). So I speed up my runnin'. I want them to get one close look at a masterpiece before the state's driving laws force them away. I owe that much to him. Besides the faster I run, the more I sweat - and damn, these foxes are thirsty.

Sweat and stench and spit and skin. American Hotness, not Old and Busted.

But then... I see...

The car is being driven by an elderly, married couple.

You see, old people drive slower, so they don't get in accidents and die.

I turn my head, wipe the sweat from my brow, and finish my laps.

Last night, as my pal Rick and I drive through the wooded highways of north Sioux City, we see a deer to the side of the road. He's eating grass.

We slow down. Look at it. Shine our headlights on its face.

As we drive away, Rick says, "That deer needed to get his shit together."

Pause.

"I don't know," I say. "He seemed pretty cool."

Rick thinks, smiles, and laughs.

"Yeah, he did have his shit together, didn't he?"

YOU KNOW WHO YOU LOOK LIKE?: A DOPPLEGANGER BLOG

Everyday, throughout the entire world, people are told that they look like celebrities. For instance, ugly, strung-out women on "Candid Camera" proudly report that they look like Cher (and everyone in the studio audience laughs at their lack of self-awareness).

I know! I'll do that, too! Now presenting a brief list of all the celebrities people have told me I resemble:


1. DUSTIN HOFFMAN


This is the one I get most often. People say, "You know who you look like?" I shrug. And they shriek, "You look like Rain Man! Has anybody told you that?! You look like Rain Man!" I nod politely.

SIMILARITIES: In addition to our prominent noses, Dustin Hoffman and I both share a love for parasailing.
DIFFERENCES: Whereas Dustin Hoffman was the loose basis for Danny DeVito's character in Get Shorty, I was the heavy basis for Gene Hackman's character in the same film... as well as Mississippi Burning.


2. EDWARD NORTON


A close second (if these were listed in the frequency of which they were told - which they seemingly are).

SIMILARITIES: Like Edward Norton, I have had sex with Salma Hayek and Courtney Love.
DIFFERENCES: Unlike Edward Norton, I have had sex with both women at the same time.


3. PATRICK DEMPSEY


I was just told this by a co-worker yesterday (specifically, that I "look like the guy from Can't Buy Me Love"). Interesting sidenote: After writing my own David Mows Yards, I realized it combined two Patrick Dempsey movies: the lawnmowing boy of Can't Buy Me Love and the multiple lady-clients of Loverboy. Uh-oh! Lawsuit-time!

SIMILARITIES: In Scream 3, Patrick Dempsey's character says the scariest movie he's ever seen is "My life." I, too, was also scared by the Michael Keaton 1993 cancer-weepie My Life.
DIFFERENCES: There are no differences between me and Patrick Dempsey.


4. DUSTIN DIAMOND (AKA "SCREECH" FROM SAVED BY THE BELL)

5. HENRY WINKLER (AKA "THE FONZ FROM HAPPY DAYS)

NO PICTURES NEEEDED!

A man in Perkin's once told me that I reminded him of Screech (whether this was because of similarity in physicality or behavior, I'm not for sure). Secondly, my friend Chris once told me he saw Happy Days on a TV in a laundromat and The Fonz reminded me of him (obviously, this was a case of behavior and not physicality).

SIMILARITIES: We all have nicknames! "Screech." "The Fonz." And "Ass-Face." I always felt bad that Henry Winkler had the nickname "Ass-Face."
DIFFERENCES: In life, I feel, it is better to focus on the similarities rather than the differences. By pointing out that Screech and The Fonz are white men and I am an African-American woman, nothing is gained.


Well, there's one thing this blog resembled... a good time!

And remember... you heard it here first on: Paul Rust and Leonard Maltin's Hollywood Scoops-and-Snoops.
Stay tuned, cinephiles!

Quiet! Do you hear that?

The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles world is all a-buzz!

Another installment of TMNT is steadily in the works!

This morning, working at the Ameri-Host Hotel, I found what appears to be a top-secret, early draft of a new Ninja Turtles adventure!

But do not worry, dear readers. Wipe your foaming mouths. Here, I have faithfully re-written the treasure I discovered this morning. So grab them nunchucks and brace yourselves:

"NINJA TURTLE BOOK"
Ninja turtle got hit by mousers. Shredder shred some of the mousers. A school bus ran over a ninja shredder. Someone crashed into a ninjacon. Some of the ninja turtles caught one of the mousers.

Can you believe it?! Surely, this revelation will quiet all those TMNT fans on the Internet who proclaimed there would never be a "ninja turtle catching a mouser" plotline. And I'm so happy they're finally picking up on the "school bus ran over a ninja shredder" story that was so well-developed in the comics.

And to think, some hot Hollywood producer was staying in the LeMars Ameri-Host and left his important story notes behind!

Well...

His loss. Our gain.

And remember... you heard it here first on: Paul Rust and Leonard Maltin's Hollywood Scoops-and-Snoops.

Stay tuned, cinephiles!

Walking out of the bathroom at Super Walton-Supermarket, I saw a guy wearing a ratty, faded-black t-shirt. On the front was a logo for Mick's Menswear, a now-defunct men's clothing store in LeMars that specialized in "cool" clothes (i.e. Bugle Boy in the 1980's, Mossimo in the 1990's, and if it had stayed in business, Pizza Hut - Hydrated Style in 2004).

With this shirt, however, the regular Mick's Menswear logo had been modified to resemble the famed logo for hair-metal standouts Poison (specifically their landmark album "Open Up and Say Ahhhh"). Imagine hot pinks and fluorescent greens and "accidential" paint splattering.

Now, if you're confused by the exact time-frame for when this shirt was initially produced, look no further than the back, which read: "LeMars Community High School After-Prom Party 1989."

And I, of course, instantly felt bad for this guy - regarding him as someone who never lived past high school and still desperately wears his t-shirts of yore to reclaim days gone past. And yeah... this man could be completely happy with his life, but projection's the key here.

And as if that wasn't depressing enough, when I walked by him... he farted.

He looked around to see if anyone had noticed.

I acted like I hadn't.

HOW YOU CELEBRATE THE 4TH OF JULY



Since you attended the crown-jewel of LeMars' Ice Cream Days festival (the fireworks extravaganza "Skyshow 2004" at the Plymouth County Fairgrounds), you already know that...

The magnificence began with a "moment of silence for those in the military." This "moment of silence" included a recorded rendition of Taps (featuring inserted jet noises) and loud firework explosions. It was so loud that I almost couldn't hear the moment of silence.

You also already know that my friends and I brought self-made signs to celebrate Sky-show 2004. This year's signs featured such time-worn patriotic phrases as: "Boom!", "We Did It!", "U.S.," "America Wins," "Firecrackers!," and my personal favorite - "The American Flag."

Finally, you also know that we sat there, cheering and hootin' and hollerin'. And behind me in the grandstands, I hear someone else - a woman also cheering along. And I think, "Wow. That's cool. Somebody else is getting excited for this just as much as we are." And then I look behind me and see that it's a 12 year-old girl who is mentally retarded.

Huh.


HOW YOU CELEBRATE LIFE



First of all, before you read this, don't think this next thought has been influenced by any recent event. Often times, "bloggers" tend to write about "girl problems" when "bloggers" are having "girl problems." However, right now - single and at-peace in LeMars - I am not a "blogger" having "girl problems." Nevertheless, a thought occurred to me a couple days ago...

For me, the only times that a dating relationship has been successful and long-standing was when the girl initiated the courting. Even though I may have been secretly attracted to the girl, she was the first to confess it and take action. However, all the times I've been the one to initiate a dating relationship with a girl... it has been extremely short-lived, disastrous, and more often than not, humiliating.

Of course, this discovery (which has surprisingly taken me too long to figure out) leads to numerous points regarding myself and dating. Some of them are debatable, but there is one unquestonalable fact: I need to keep my goddamn mouth shut.


HOW YOU CELEBRATE TODAY

Think about fireworks. Avoid thinking about how this discovery takes you one step closer to being a cold, detached man.

Who said LeMars ain't cool?

Tonight, to kick off the annual 4th-of-July "Ice Cream Days Festival," there is a free, outdoor screening of Jaws. This is an awesome (albeit unlikely) choice.

I like the fact that the LeMars city council is organizing a 4th-of-July event that's about... a city council organizing a 4th-of-July event that goes horribly, horribly wrong. Nevertheless, I'll be there. Hopefully, no sharks will drop from the sky and attack me.

Then... on Friday night... I am attending a Class of 2000 reunion.

But, Paul, it's only been 4 years since you've graduated high school. Usually, 5 years is the arbitrarily-chosen marker for reunions.

I know, but Gehlen Catholic (my old high school) is having their big All-School reunion over this holiday weekend. So my class is getting our reunion out of the way along with it. It'll definetely be interesting. I've seen maybe only 10 people from my class since I've graduated, so there'll be a lot of new/old faces.

Who will be bald? Who will be fat? These are questions that will be answered.

Jaws and an ever-increasing awareness of aging, here I come!

Reading strangers' blogs again...

I came across a feller's blog and I think he is sad. I genuinely feel bad about this. I've decided to copy his last post (in italics) to my blog and add my own comments (in non-italics) on how he should be happy. Perhaps, someday, his blog will meet my blog and... no one will ever be sad again.

Until then...


A few things I know about myself.

1) I hate myself more than I hate any other person
More than Pol Pot even? Sure, he's a good dancer and a decent swimmer, but I think one Orlando vacation with ol' Pol "I Always Pick Where We Eat" Pot would set you straight.

2) Lonliness is a thing I hold close to my heart.
I think Plato said it best: "He who mis-spells loneliness is never truly lonely." And that's Dana Plato by the way.

3) My happiness is fleeting, and others will easily sacrifice my happiness to gain their own.
To avoid fleeting, "happiness" should be stored in an air-tight, underground vault - along with "joy" and "love." Smothering may occur.

4) Love is a joke, my love is a joke
And who delivers this joke most frequently? Funny-woman Elayne Boosler.

5) I'm in a constant search for something that I have not found, and will never know if I've found it until it's too late.
Whenever I can't find my shoes, I say to my mom, "Mom, where are my shoes?" And she says, "Well, the last time I wore them..." - as if to say, "I don't wear your shoes, Paul. Figure it out yourself."
Awwww, mom!

6) Late at night I feel worthless.
"Full House" eases the pain.

7) Today was a shitty shitty day.
Aye yes, laddy, but tomorrow... she'll be a beauty!

8) I'm going to have more of number "7"
Let's hope "7" is an ice-cream sundae!

9) I like being intoxicated, a lot, just because... it's an escape
Drinking alcohol is like drinking Gatorade - you don't want to do it too much or you won't have enough to throw on the coach!

10) I will never escape my fate, I will never know lasting happiness.
Not with that kind of attitude you won't, mister!


Cheer up, friends, loved ones, and strangers. Gorgeous days lie ahead.

Late Tuesday night/early Wednesday morning, Rick and I are attending a special midnight screening of "Spiderman 2: Miracle of the White Stallions." We're traveling to a town 45 minutes away to see it. Will it be worth it?

The White Stallions say "Yes!"

I'm super-excited for it. Midnight screenings are fun because eager audiences will applaud anything. "The lights are going down?" APPLAUSE! "The first preview?" APPLAUSE! "R2-D2 uses mini-jets to fly?" NO APPLAUSE!

That's right. In "Attack of the C(l)ones," when R2-D2 does his first-ever on-screen flight, I began clapping and cheering uproariously... and no one joined me! And it was a midnight screening, too. With nerdy "Star Wars" fans filling the audience. Who had drank a lot of Mountain Dew.

Cowards.

But yeah... it's the most-anticipated summer movie for me. Screw having "too high of expectations." I hate that shit. Be excited for something.

Cowards.

What summer movie have I been most excited for in my 23 years, you ask? Batman Returns in 1992, of course. I went on opening night... and I wore a Batman Returns t-shirt my mom had bought me at Wal-Mart earlier that day.

Why aren't any of you wearing Batman Returns t-shirts?

Cowards.

Walt Disney is my new best friend!

While checking his "producer filmography" on the Internet's Database for Movies and More.Com, I got to read all the awesome titles he's been behind. Here are just some of my favorites:

1. It's Tough to Be a Bird
I hope this is a warts-and-all documentary which delves into Larry Bird's grueling experience while filming the "Nuthin', But Net" McDonald's commercials with Michael Jordan.

2. Charlie, the Lonesome Cougar
True story: In sixth grade, a foreign-exchange student from Brazil gave me the nickname "Cougar." However, I was neither lonesome - nor Charlie.

3. Monkeys, Go Home!
Should I sue Walt Disney for making a movie about what I say when my relatives visit? Take that, Uncle Mike!

4. Follow Me, Boys!
Should I sue Walt Disney for making a movie about what I say to high-school basketball teams outisde Godfather's Pizza after they win the big, championship game?

5. Freewayphobia #1
You know, there's another movie title that better describes my fear of highways... it's called "Rush Hour!" Yikes!

6. Miracle of the White Stallions
Here's the backstory on this title...
AMERICAN POPULATION: Hey, Mr. Disney!
WALT DISNEY: ...Yes?
AMERICAN POPULATION: Can we please have a movie title that proves you have never been laid?

7. Aquamania
Aquamania had two sequels: Towel-mania and Hairdryer-mania. Gouche!

8. Donald Duck and His Companions
Everyone at the family reunion knew that Donald's guests were much more than "companions." They were his best friends!


Today, to keep my mind occupied while making shelves look pretty at Wal-Mart, I came up with two parody songs. The original titles are modified, so you know how I deliciously satirized them. They were:

1. Neil Diamond's "They're Coming to America"
became...
Paul Rust's "They're Renting 'Pre-hysteria'"

and

2. The Tornados' "Do the Locomotion with Me"
became...
Paul Rust's "Share the Calamine Lotion with Me"

Eat your heart out, Weird Al!

THREE EASY RULES TO BEING A CRYPT:

1. Wear black no matter what.

2. Hate "The Bloods."

3. Drive around at night (with your headlights off) at all times. If a fellow driver warns you of this by flashing his or her own headlights on and off, then you must hunt them down and kill them.

If you have any interest in being a Crypt, contact my friend Jeff at Cryptkeeper_Jeff@Kevin-Smith-Fan.com.

Also... if you are a Blood, don't even think about applying. Seriously. It's rude and no one thinks it's funny (not even your lame-ass Blood-friends).

The story continues...


WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: Hey, Paul.

PAUL: Hello... Well's Blue Bunny.

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: How's it going?

PAUL: Eh. Pretty good. Got a couple new jobs.

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: Yeah. I heard that. Good for you. Really... good for you.

PAUL: ... Thanks.

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: Y'know, I was thinkin'...

PAUL: Yeah?

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: I was thinkin'...

PAUL: What?

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: Maybe I was a little hard on you before.

PAUL: Oh yeah?

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: Yeah. Refusing you a job and all that. The whole "How can I trust you when you've quit once before?" thing. I over-reacted.

PAUL: Hm.

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: You were a different person back then. You didn't know. You know what? I...

PAUL: ... Yeah?

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: I forgive you, Paul. I forgive you for quiting four years ago. I forgive you.

PAUL: Well... thanks.

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: I forgive you so much, in fact, that... I'm willing to give you a job. Would you like that? A new job at me: Well's Blue Bunny?

PAUL: Seriously?

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: Mr. Rust, I am for real.

PAUL: Wow.

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: So how 'bout it?

PAUL: I guess there's only one thing I can say... kiss my ass!

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: Huh?!

PAUL: Kiss my ass!

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: Now, you wait a gosh-darn second, mister. I don't think you know what you're doing!

PAUL: I know exactly what I'm doing! I'm saying, "Kiss my ass!"

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: Well, I never!

PAUL: You can keep your crummy job! Me and my friends Super Wal-Mart and Ameri-Host are doin' just fine! We've made plans to see "The Bourne Supremacy" together!

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: Really? (pause) Could I... could I come?

PAUL: Sure. Sure, you can come, Well's Blue Bunny. Just go inside, get your jacket, and then we'll go, okay?

WELL'S BLUE BUNNY: I'll be back in a flash!

Well's Blue Bunny runs inside his house. Paul looks around for a moment... then flips the bird, puts up his collar, and high-tails it to Ameri-Host's house to watch the "White Chicks" trailer on the Internet.

Yesterday was "Father's Day."

But did you know that today is "Fathers' Day" - the sacred holiday when Catholics list off their assorted priests and share tidbits about them?

And... go!

1. Father George
TENURE: St. Joseph's (1986-1994)
NICKNAME: Georgey-Boy

It's Fall 1993 and I'm in the sixth grade. Me, my pops, and a group of fellow rock-n-rollers (including kindly Father George) head to St. Louis to catch a few Cardinals' games. The major highlight? Since we're "on vacation" and no one wants to go to boring, old church... Father George holds mass in our hotel room! The 5-minute ceremony consists of a brief opening, an even briefer homily, and a ramshackle communion ritual where we pass around travel-sized wine and hosts (Father George happened to bring them in his luggage).


2. Father Cosgrove

TENURE: St. Joseph's (1994-1999)
NICKNAME: Cozzey-Coz (pronounced Cahzee-Cahz)

Spring 1998 and I'm a sophomore at Gehlen Catholic. My friends and I are chillin' on some benches after lunch (it's not recess, okay?! it's, like, a recess... for grown-ups!) and we're talkin' to Father Cosgrove (who lived in the rectory which was a stone's throw - or casted stone? ha - away from the school).

COSGROVE: How're you guys spending your summer?
US: We're acting in a production of "Jesus Christ Superstar!"
COSGROVE: That'll be nice.
US: You gonna' come?!
COSGROVE: No. (beat) I've read the book.

Bam!


3. Father Mark
TENURE: ???? (1988-????)
NICKNAME: Father Mark

Father Mark wasn't a priest at my church, St. Joseph's. He was in one of the, you know, "far-away rural churches." Consequently, you didn't see him every Sunday at mass and double-consequently, you didn't get to know very well (i.e. he was kind of weird). The only times you did see him is when they needed extra priests at the large all-school reconcilliation assemblies or... when he came into your classroom during the first grade to play the host of his own religious "TV game show."

OFFICIAL GAME RULES: Father Mark stands at the front of the room and you and a fellow classmate face-off before him - battling to see who can be the first to answer a Catholicism-related question. Questions included: "What are stained-glass windows?" or "Who is your pope?" or "Why on earth does Father Mark subject us to this?" He was great though. He'd get into the game like a genuine TV game-show host - like if kids got too loud, he'd say, "Quiet on the set, everybody. Quiet on the set." What?!

ANYWAY: In case you didn't know, the reason your parents had more kids than you is so brothers and sisters can exchange school-yard gossip and class-time doo-dah. In this case, my older sister Anne and her class would also be blessed with Father Mark's game-show presence. Apparently, two of her classmates grew tired of this game and let it be known. Anne joyously related this story to me:

(FATHER MARK is conducting a game when suddenly BOY #1 stands up from his desk, flipping it over)
BOY #1: This game sucks!
(BOY #2 also stands up, flipping over his own desk)
BOY #2: No shit!

This story tantalized me to no end.


HAPPY FATHERS' DAY!

Did your dad ever want to play video-games with you?

During video-games of head-to-head combat, did you let your dad win?

If your dad did poorly at a video-game, did you let him restart over and over (despite the fact that you would never grant such allowances to your peers)?

My dad was good at NBA Jam, but he wasn't that good.

Yes, the fabled ".Com Crash" may have solidified the fact that I am part of that unprecedented generation "that-can't-be-more-successful-than-their-parents," but...

We can beat you at Paperboy any day of the week.

Yesterday, I bought 2 pairs of "scrubs."

No, I am not a doctor. And no, I am not acting in a hilarious tele-play. I got a second job as housekeeper at the Ameri-Host Inn.

Next week, my friend Rick will join me as a housekeeper, too. That's right. Gehlen Catholic's two Class of 2000 co-valedictorians will spend their summer wiping pubes off toilet seats. This is where "studying hard" gets you.

Whatever. I like housekeeping. Hotels are cool and you get to spend your time in them. Yes.

Anyway, I work with this guy at the hotel. He's a nice feller - somebody who I had always seen at church and would occassionally hold mini-chats with. But how I remember him the most is... he was the uncle of Jamie, this kid in my class.

One time, back in third grade, I'm over at Jamie's house and there's a picture of his uncle on the bedroom dresser. And I ask who it is and Jamie just goes on and on about this uncle - how cool he is, how friendly, how fun. Then I ask, "What's he do for a living?" And Jamie says, "Well... he - people say he's retarded, but he's not. He's smart."

(This, of course, meant that his uncle had a mental disability and didn't hold a job. In any case, Jamie still really revered his uncle.)

As time went on and as things go, Jamie (as a teenager) fell back in his studies, eventually dropped out of Gehlen, and went to the public school. There, I started hearing strange stuff about him: he had gotten into drugs, he got caught masturbating in the science lab. I don't even know if he graduated high school.

People slip through the cracks.

Yesterday, I'm talking to Jamie's uncle at the Ameri-Host. He asks me when I graduated high school and I - trying to bridge a time gap and also, share something in common - tell him, "Four years ago. Yeah... Jamie was in my class." And his uncle says, "You mean, trouble was in your class."

Jamie may have stood up for his uncle, insisting that he was smarter than most people gave him credit for... but his uncle knew Jamie was trouble.


SIDENOTE: A housekeeper brought fake-poo to work this morning and put it in the bath-tub as a "practical joke." Jamie's uncle thought it was hilarious.

I read strangers' blogs. You find your way to them - you know, a "friend" of a "friend" of a "friend of." A few moments ago, I read a stranger's blog and in it, this girl mentioned: "I have an eclectic taste in music, and like a lot of different stuff - although chances are i don't know names or members of many of them."

Which reminded me...

A couple of summers ago, Scott (my sister Amy's boyfriend) and I were chatting about a band we both liked, Quasi. As these conversations tend to go, we began to throw around album titles and unreleased B-sides and "favorites lists" and whatnot. Soon enough, my sister interrupted and surmised: "That's boy talk."

Warning us first that this was a strong generalization, my sister went on to share a theory about how boys and girls appreciate things differently. Basically, boys appreciate things by memorizing every possible detail about them... and girls... well, girls... just like it.

She used the example of when she was growing up, all of her male friends (and from the ages of 2-6, her friends were primarily male) memorized the names of all of the "Star Wars" planets, spaceships, secondary characters, etc. She, however, showed her adoration differently. She just watched the movies and lovingly re-enacted them during play-time. WEIRD, HUH?!!!

But this distinction doesn't end at childhood though. Look at me. I can't just watch a movie. I have to know every possible fact about it (whether I appreciated the movie or not) - production information, release dates, cast and crew, all that. I've been like that since I was a li'l scrap. In third grade, I would play a game with people where they gave me a movie (any movie) and I could tell them what film company distributed it. Dead-on. Everytime. Nerd.

In any case, I think my sister has a point and although I am participating in the type of discussion I despise ("girls are like this and boys are like this"), I have to admit that I see it going on all the time.

Anyway. I am now going to watch "The Man Who Wasn't There." I like it a lot. This is how it falls in my "favorites list" of Coen Brothers' movies:

1. Fargo
2. The Man Who Wasn't There
3. Blood Simple
4. The Hudsucker Proxy
5. Barton Fink
6. The Big Lebowski
7. Intelorable Cruelty
8. Miller's Crossing
9. The Ladykillers
10. Raising Arizona
11. O, Brother, Where Art Thou?

Mom and pop are outta' town! For the entire weeeeek! I's got the whole house to myself!

What am I gonna' do?! List-time, suckaz!

1. RAID THE FRIDGE!
(I'm gonna' eat a double-decker bologna-and-ham-and-cheese Dagwood sandwich... for a snack!)

2. MAKE PRACTICAL-JOKE PHONE-CALLS!
(MAYOR OF LEMARS: Hello?
ME: Hi, this is Paul Rust.
MAYOR OF LEMARS: Excuse me?
ME: Shut up, four-eyes!)

3. DRIVE DAD'S HOTTT NEW PORSCHE!
(I'll just use it to pick up groceries... BABE GROCERIES, THAT IS!)

4. THROW A BITCHIN' PARTY!
(I already sent out the invitations. Make sure to R.S.V.P. - Respect the Seasoned Veteran of Partying - i.e. ME!)

5. WAKE UP THE NEIGHBORS!
(If #4 goes right, #5 is in the bag!)


With luck, in four days, when mommy and pop-pop come rollin' into the driveway, they'll see the house is nothing but smoldering rumble... and I'm playin' air guitar on top of it! Jose Can-Strike-Out!

And if you don't believe me, check out what I did last night!

Me and three friends sat peacefully on my living room floor and perused a book of Norman Rockwell paintings.

This is true. So, so true.

The LeMars Public Library is missing their copy of "House of Leaves." That's because I have it. In my possession. If you went to the LeMars Public Library right now and looked for a copy of "House of Leaves," you would be sorely disappointed.

Don't worry though. I checked it out. With a library card and everything. Geeze - you were scared that I stole it, weren't you?

So yeah... I'm reading that book and... it's about a haunted house... and it's supposed to be scary... but it's not scaring me. In fact, no books have ever scared me. Everybody's got a tale to tell about a book that's scared them. But I don't.

And MORE TO THE POINT, I've never read a book that's completely moved me - you know, changed my life. Sure, I've read books that I liked (or possibly even adored), but never one that I feel I can "call my own." I don't have a "favorite book" that was "written just for me."

Which is funny because I could easily list 30 movies with no hesitation that do that for me. Or 50 songs. Or 10 TV shows.

Books gotta' start pulling their weight.


ALSO:

I was watching CNN and a guy from the Gallup Poll service was talking about the peaks and vallies of President Reagan's popularity during his administration.

And he made the point that Reagan never had an overwhelming majority of admirers while he was president. In fact, towards the end of his presidency, Reagan only had 53% of Americans regard him favorably.

However, by the mid-90's (curiously when Reagan's illness became known), nearly 75% of Americans remember Reagan being a good president.

Huh.

Because one person loses their memory, everybody else does, too.

Most of my fellow employees at Super Wal-Mart, Inc. are women in the 28-55 age range. If you've ever wondered what it's like to be completely surrounded by older women... it's like attending one large Mom Convention. And it's fantastic.

But I must admit, as I was stocking "Denture Cream, Inc." packages onto the shelves and listening to the ladies chat, I remembered those bygone days when I worked at Hy-Vee Food Store, Inc. from 1997 to 1999. Back then, 90% of my co-workers were high-schoolers just like me and it was cool because even though we would have never been "friends" outside of work (what with differing interests and personalites - and especially since many of them went to a different school than me), we still got along and appreciated one another. It was kind of like "The Breakfast Club" - except instead of eating breakfast, we sold it! In boxes! In aisle 9!

So, as I was stocking the "Body Lotion, Inc." bottles, I started thinking about those co-workers at Hy-Vee. And I mostly remembered the girls there. They were brassy and funny and cool. In particular, I recalled one girl (whose name I cannot remember) that worked the register. She was friendly and interesting and... pretty - prettier than I ever appreciated at the time. She chatted with everybody, but I remember something about her face (I don't know, fragile and stuff) that made her look bored or disinterested or... sad.

And there were these weird tidbits about her life that I came across (not by ever talking about it with her, but by observing things during endless six-hour shifts). She apparently took care of her baby brother more often than her own mother ever did - leading many to believe that she herself was the mother of the child. She also dated "the town asshole/hellraiser/bad boy." But I remember him always treating her with the utmost respect and kindness and... I recall how comforting it was, knowing that even assholes care about somebody.

So then I started wondering whatever happened to her - whatever happened to all those girls I used to work with. I haven't seen any of them since I've graduated high school.

One hour later, I'm walking out of Wal-Mart's back-room and I see the aforementioned girl (that very same girl) pushing a shopping cart and passing the DVD Clearance Bin - her stomach expanded and about to burst. She easily had to be 6-9 months pregnant.

And I realized - there goes one more attendee at the ol' Mom Convention.

Yesterday, for the first time in my lifetime, a horse could have won the Triple Crown.

Instead, for the first time in my lifetime, a president (who was in office while I was alive) died.

Plus, a bunch of stuff burned down in downtown LeMars.

And the neighbor kid Nathan lost a tooth.

Here's a big plate of pancakes, Mr. Newsday!

I'm finally unpacking (after three weeks!) and as a result, I'm going through all the old junk in my bedroom.

And Holy Gouche! I've came across a real treasure:

My 1995 "Movie Idea" book containing the plot outlines for such 7th-grade masterpieces as "Wasteless Armchair Liquids" and "Rotten Aries." All of these films are heavy, heavy, heavy Tarantino rip-offs (as that was my main obsession at the time). And of course, like any good writer, I spent more time on "dream casting" than ever re-drafting a script. Surprisingly, the cast list still holds up. I mean, who wouldn't want to see Mickey Rourke and Buddy Hackett in a movie together?

Of course, after you uncover something like this and become embarrassed by its amateur status, you instantly look at the work you're doing now and realize you will be mortified by that as well. In a few years, I'll revisit something like "David Mows Yards" or "Bubblegum Brigade" and I know its faults will sting.

The thing is... those 7th-grade scripts are relegated to my bedroom where no one can see them, but hundreds have seen "David Mows Yards" and "Bubblegum Brigade" or whatever else I've done. Not only will I have to suffer these errors alone, but additionally, I'll have to think about how many others witnessed them as well - and it will sting to know that some in the audience were rolling their eyes at those very errors while they were watching it.

Fortunately, I can rest in the knowledge that I don't put out potentially embarrassing stuff out to the world everyday, which can be archived and read (on, I don't know, say the Internet) for many years to come.

Oh... wait.

KEEP COUNT WITH YOUR FRIENDS...

FAILED JOKE AT SUPER WAL-MART #5 (OF A PROJECTED #478):

Yesterday at "Orientation," a lady's giving a tour to me and a few other future employees. She shows us a bulletin board in the back-room of Super Wal-Mart, which displays competitor prices as well as photographs of these competitors' buildings. As you can guess, these pictures eerily resemble super-sleuth, spy photos taken by international profesionals - a componenet of Wal-Mart's own private "Project Mayhem."

After we all admire the craftmanship of the board, the tour lady says to us, "This is our comp board." ("comp" apparently code for "competition" or "competitor"). Finally she remarks, "We call these businesses 'comp.' I don't know what you guys call them."

And I said, "Dead. I call 'em dead."

Tour lady looks at me. "What?" Then... she smiles - very, very distantly. "Oh... Yes."

The tour continues.

As one often tends to do in LeMars, Iowa, my mom and I were having that age-old discussion: "is-that-one-person-related-to-the-guy-who-went-to-jail-a-few-years-ago?" In this instance, "the-guy-who-went-to-jail" was a local man who allegedly molested children back when I was in high school.

So, my mom and I are talking about this guy (careful not to mention anything about "molestation" since my 8 year-old niece is in the room), but despite our efforts, my niece does hear us say "put in jail" and her ears inevitably perk up.

"Who went to jail?" she asks us.
"A guy." my mom says.
"Why?" she asks.

And there's a silence - yes, an uncomfortable silence. And my mom and I look at each other, not knowing what to say. And then... without a moment's hesitation... as if there wasn't an "uncomfortable silence" at all... my mom says...

"Stealing. He was arrested for stealing."

That's 29 years of motherhood at work. My mom knows what to say to appease a child - and consequently how not to demolish their china-plate world.

And yeah, you may disasgree with my mom's actions. It may have been "better" for her to tell her grand-daughter the full-truth. And it have been "better" to explain what "molestation" is and how "some people do some bad things," but... I'm glad she did what she did. Ignorance can have horrible consequences, I know. But knowledge can hurt like a sunuvabitch - especially when you're 8 years old.

However, I know if I had been in that position... I would have told the truth, but then... proceeded to muddle through some poor explanation which would have indeed shattered the aforementioned china-glass... metaphor.

And that's what scares me.

For years now (but especially within the last month), I think about how awful of a parent I would be. Not because I'd be negligent or abusive or anything like that, but because I'd be so over-concerned about protecting them - and not in the T.S. Garp fashion of making sure they don't break their bones or get hit by cars or whatever.

No, instead, I'd be wanting to protect them from all those "the world just revealed that it is an awful place" experiences. Cuz as anyone with even a passing interest in my plays/NS pieces/whatnot could easily glean... for me, childhood is that glorious/horrendous period where everything is glorious and horrendous. And I know that as a parent, I'd be so over-burdening in trying to keep a "perfect world" for my kids. And well... that's no way to raise a kid, right? You know why. I don't have to tell you.

Anyway, back here in LeMars, since I'm around more kids (no longer in the twentysomething-heavy Iowa City), I'm more exposed to these tales of "growin' up" and "experiencin' shitty things" and "the speedy passin' of youth" and I'm struck with such an overwhelming sense of melancholy. Sometimes I purposely avoid situations just so I don't have to deal with it - even when they're not overtly "shitty things."

But sometimes, you can't avoid everything. Sometimes, you have to go to your niece's dance recital where 5 year-old ballet dancers stumble through "Maybe" from the musical "Annie."

And goddamnit - don't you know? Those 5 year-olds made me weep like... a 5 year-old girl.

At 12am, my University of Iowa Webmail account officially ended.

I didn't know if I would still be able to access any old emails afterwards, so I decided to take precautions and forward emails (that I wanted to keep) to an alternate email account instead.

So, at 10:30pm, I had an hour-and-a-half to decide what emails I wanted for the rest of my life and which ones would be forgotten forever.

Yes. It was that big of a deal.

And in a way, I've been engaging in this sort of activity ever since I began preparing myself for the end of college. These last few months have been a constant struggle over deciding what to file and archive, so you can later remember and what to... regard as unimportant.

In the end, I mainly opted for keeping emails sent by former girlfriends. You know, so I could go back and re-read them and make myself feel bad/good/bad when the time was necessary.

And for some reason, I deleted any emails from people who wrote to tell me that they liked my play or enjoyed my movie or appreciated me as a friend.

Huh.


Somebody on IM tonight told me that they like my web-blog because it's one of the few that isn't a bummer. She said my weblog was like a buddy - the kind who says, "Come on, buddy, things are gonna' get better!" I liked hearing that comment.

Funny that I would write such a joyless blog entry so soon afterwards.