The Bathtub
Sometime in my late twenties, I found my dad’s old bicycle helmet. And in this case, “bicycle” means “Harley,” not “Huffy.” Next to the odd-man-out-pick-up-truck-ski-lift, this was the greatest innovation in downhill sledding in the Greater Valley Forge area since 1955. It was no longer completely unsafe to go down face-first skeleton-style. Once you got passed the initial gag reflex to close your eyes in the face of such danger on a dimly lit 30 degree grade hill, you could just barely see passed the wall of snow shooting up from the front of the toboggan. Why since 1955? No, not because that’s when the flux capacitor was invented. Because that’s when the bathtub was invented.
The bathtub wasn’t so much invented then; I’m sure it had been around for a lot longer than that. But this is the first time in recorded history that someone was stupid enough to think it would be a good idea to pile a bunch of 7-year old kids in it and push it down a steep hill into the woods. And this is not one of the bathtubs we’re all familiar with now. This is a solid marble (or whatever) Cialis-looking bathtub.
I can’t imagine they had really planned ahead for how this would end, because every scenario looks pretty bleak. But I guess that’s part of the fun of being stupid. The Sixth Sense would have been much less entertaining if I knew how it was going to end.
From what I gather from his telling of the story, there were about 8 kids in this tub. I’m not sure how or if it stayed upright on the way down the hill. All I really know about the decent down the hill are two things. My father was lucky because he was light and he bounced out early. And by the time the trip was over, there were about 5 or 6 broken arms and legs.
Despite his telling of the story, I have still never managed to try sled down a hill into the woods in a solid marble bathtub. And I’m kinda glad he didn’t tell me about this story when I was young and stupid enough to try it, because there’s a very good chance Mike DeStephano and I would have found a tub and it would have likely ended up shattered in 40 pieces on Prospect Ave with 3 or 4 kids still inside it.
One Blind Mouse
A lot of the computer knowledge that most members of our generation take for granted is probably as foreign to members of the 
previous generation as planes are to cod. And my dad was not the sharpest cod in the drawer. I’ll excuse him the time that he accidentally deleted a document and instinctively reached toward the monitor to catch it like Coach did in Poltergeist. However, he called me in Maryland to tell me of an internet connection problem caused by the lack of a mouse pad. I thought this to be another one of his pranks and played along. But this was a joke that he wasn’t in on.
I drove the two hours north and handed him a Scarface mouse pad. It didn’t help, which was of course no surprise to me. “Well no shit it doesn’t work now. The thing hasn’t had a thing since you brought it here.” Loosely interpreted through his body language, he still blamed the mouse pad. And by now, it was of course too late as the mouse had already been contaminated from prolonged unprotected mousing and I “didn’t know shit about shit.” He bought a new mouse on his own this time.
After I rewired the motherboard in front of him to fix his internet connection issue, he was still proud of his diagnosis and problem-solving ability and convinced it was the new mouse that made all the difference. Now he could get back to his internet poker and hotornot.com.
Cheaters Always Win
While some folks were getting their college degrees and finding a niche in the workforce, dad was hustling pool and poker to
get his money, and not always honestly. When I came back from a two-week vacation in Myrtle Beach in 2004, I told him that it was the first time since I graduated college in 1998 that I had 2 weeks in a row without work. He retorted “Wow, Dus. I don’t think I worked for two weeks straight since 1998.” Thanks. Rub it in, pop.
My dad admittedly grew up on the other side of the tracks. He told me once reluctantly about a time when he fixed a deck to get some money from people he barely knew. After the cut, he sneezed with one hand and stuck the other hand into his lap to switch the decks in a classic misdirection move. He said it was dangerous and he was really hard up for some money at the time and didn’t speak of it with any pride. I’ve done this many a time in strip poker with varying success. When people are drunk and naked and insecure, nobody really watches the dealer. A little tip for you newbies out there.
But then there was one time that he was happy to tell me about a cheat he pulled. This time there were multiple people in on it and though it was in a game for money, that wasn’t really the point. It wasn’t about the money. It was about the funny.
He was at a buddy’s place playing poker with five other people, including his brother Mark. He and Frankie stacked a deck and planned to get this one guy they wanted to mess with to stay in and throw all his money in on a losing hand. My dad walks in the kitchen, which was just behind Frankie’s chair but off to the side. Just as Frankie says “CUT” and hands the cards over to whoever was cutting, my dad asks where the paper towels are. Frankie takes the deck in his hand and uses that hand to point in the direction of the kitchen. His hand is behind the kitchen door and out of sight for just a moment while he points and that’s when my dad takes his deck and replaces it with this elaborately planned ruse.
What was supposed to happen is that Frankie and this other guy were supposed to be in the hand, with the other guy being the aggressor and Frankie calling and eventually catching a straight flush to beat out this guy’s full house. The two of them followed the script for the most part with one exception. My Uncle Mark was trying to bluff them out. He had been dealt 3-5 and decided to protect his little blind, despite a hefty raise from someone with pocket Ks.
The flop comes up 10-7-K, giving the target of this elaborate scam top trips on the flop. Mark now has K-10-7-5-3 with no chance for a flush. He decides to bluff. Trip Ks raises him and Frankie smooth calls with a straight flush draw and the knowledge that he will get that straight flush draw, thus making it basically a straight flush already.
Mark gets pissed off at the raise and calls. My dad shakes his head and, knowing what Mark has, shoots him a look. I don’t know quite what a look of “Get the hell out of this hand; we’re fucking with this guy over here!” looks like. Apparently neither did Mark.
A 7 hits on the turn. The target now has a full house, as was carefully planned; Frankie has not gotten closer at all, but still has one card (his card) coming; and Mark has the same pair of 7s everyone else has and two cards that probably won’t play. And Mark comes out firing. This betting sequence is no longer coming from a place of strategy, but a place of anger and arrogance. Full House raises and Frankie once again calls. Mark re-raises and offers to show his penis. Again, my dad shoots the same look, but as intense as he feels he can give it without arousing suspicion. Frankie now shoots him the same look. Defensively, Mark shoots a look back that says “I GOT A FUCKING HAND, OK!” Full House and Frankie call.
Frankie’s card hits on the river, the 6 that will complete the 6-7-8-9-10 straight flush. Mr Full House has a hand that could only be beat by the 8-9 of spades OR the remaining two 7s, making it a 2 in 1,980 chance that he’ll lose. Mark’s hand can be beaten or tied by literally every possible hand. His hole cards don’t even play. This is an embarrassment. Finally, he checks to the relief of my father. Full House goes all in and Frankie calls. “This is bullshit!” exclaims Mark and throws his hand into the muck. The target shows his cards and Frankie shows one of the two hands in 1980 that beat Full House. Frankie and my dad start to laugh. Full House stands up and yells out “You fuckers set me up!” But jokingly. Five people erupt in laughter after watching this whole display. There are six people there.
“So this is what you guys do? This is what you guys thinks is funny?! You just fuck with people’s money like that shit?! You can all kiss my f*#%ing ass!” Mark grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, knocking it over.
“What didja have?” asked my dad, coy as a fish.
“Fuck you.”
After he was gone and the money was returned to everyone but Mark – who now had store credit – Full House asked my dad what they gave him.
“I think we gave him 3-5 off.”
“Wow. Unlucky bastard.”
Happy Father’s Week 2011
Happy Father’s Day to all the fathers out there! I just finished watching Big Fish and bawling my eyes out, which has been a Father’s Day routine of mine since he passed back in 2005. And since way back in 2010 (not a misprint), I’ve been running a Father’s Week tradition on this website where I’ll post a different story about my father every day of the week directly after Father’s Day. Or at least when I get around to it, hopefully sometime soon. Fred Frey told me shortly after my dad’s passing that the Native Americans believe in two deaths: the death of the body – which I’m assuming you can all figure out on your own, and the death of the soul – which occurs when the last story about a person is told. So as long as people keep telling stories about a person, that person’s soul will live on. According to Indians. Which I don’t think really exist anymore. Except for those that run casinos. Which happens to be something my father could get behind anyway. So I’m rolling with it for another year. It gives me a good reason to pour some energy into thinking about my father and into writing.
Since Father’s Day 2010, I have inherited another two fathers. My mom married a man named Dennis last November. He certainly treats her well and loves her and she loves him back. But as I am 36 years old and (somewhat) independent, I don’t really call him my dad. And I think that’s a pretty well understood dynamic. Again, he’s a great guy and I suppose technically a step-father, but I’m old enough to be a father (really, a grandfather at this point), so he will remain Dennis.
The other man, however, is the father of my lovely new bride, Tom Morrison. He was not fortunate enough to have a son and though he lives in Texas, somehow doesn’t like football, but he is a man I’m happy to call my dad. Which is something I can’t necessarily say for Jenn (zing!). See, I can kid since we’re family and all. Anyway, Happy Father’s Day, Daddy Morrison.
But everyone knows my father was one of a kind and I am sorry for everyone who didn’t have the fortune to meet him. When asked who my comedic inspirations are, I list him as #1 and Paul Reiser as #2. So you should enjoy the next couple posts. Check out last year’s stories in the upper right of the page or below and be sure to check back in the next few days for some more Dustin’s Dad stories.
Sorry about my unscheduled delay in Father’s Week, but I was called up that Thursday to do a comedy show on Saturday and I needed to 
dedicate a little time to that set. And I really do have a full-time job that takes up about 25 hours a week if you don’t count the time on facebook and twitter and hulu (OK, 15). But I did want to get one more story in about my father before I spend the next three weeks concentrating solely on my big show (and smaller show), which I’ll be sure to tell you about until you’re sick of it too.
This is one of my favorite stories and I’m not even in it. And as narcissistic as I am, that means it must be a good one. Toward the end of my dad’s days, he started telling me a little bit more about the part of his life I wasn’t privy to before. As a current adult, I now know there are many things I would prefer my children not know about me until they’re old enough. Not bad things, just stuff like girl-chasing, pot-smoking and genital-exposing type of activities. Which means you’ll all be warned 9 months before this website will be shut down. But my dad and I began to speak more candidly about his past in the summer of 2005. And the following is his account of a night in Atlantic City with John and Mark, two of his brothers.
It really helps if you know Mark and John, but you don’t have to. Picture two guys a lot like my dad, one younger than the other. If you don’t know my dad – try picturing a mix between your dad and me. And Paul Reiser. Anyway, the three of them were going to Atlantic City for the night as they did often. Usually they’d go there pretty late – between 6 and 9pm – and wouldn’t come back until somewhere between 2 and 6am. On this particular night, my dad wasn’t feeling too well. He was on the fence about whether or not to go in the first place. But Mark has a way of whining people over (yes, that was intentional). “Come on Glen! Jack is all the way up here from Maryland. How often do we get to do this? I’ll drive. And we don’t have to stay too late, I swear.” And so dad was off to AC with John and Mark, not technically against his will.
The details of certain things have still never fully been explained to me. Like I don’t know what “a lot” means when he said that “Mark was down A LOT of money.” $150? $500? $75,000? I’m not sure. But it doesn’t really matter. The inflection in his voice gave me all that I really needed to know.
My dad had lost his allocated $200 for the night and was ready to leave at midnight. John could have stayed or gone, but was empathetic for my father’s growing unrest. However, Mark was down A LOT and his body language at the poker table said that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. As did his mouth when my dad asked again at 1:30. And with every minute that passed and every dollar that was lost, my dad felt more uncomfortable, Mark felt more agitated and John was stuck playing mediator. “Hey man. Just give me the keys to drive Glen home and I’ll come back and get you.”
“Just wait another damn minute. As soon as I get back to [$???], we’ll fuckin go!” It was a 3-hour round-trip drive. And Mark was a time bomb with a quirky fuse that could fizzle out or blow any minute.
3am…
4am…
5am…
My dad had been leaning against the wall holding his jacket for hours now. His eyes were uncontrollably closing and his body needed a bed. John was getting irritated at Mark’s list of priorities. “Hey man. Could we at least borrow $100 to get a cab. Glen needs to get home.”
“FINE!” Mark grabbed his jacket and stormed out in the middle of whatever he was doing at the moment of the impact of that comment. He speed walked to the car and my dad lagged behind, John with him and yelling at Mark to hold up. “Well, hurry the fuck up you wanna go home so Goddamn bad!” Awesome.
Once on the Atlantic City Expressway, Mark was going about 130 mph, as if outrunning the sunrise. It is important to note that these three men don’t drink. Anger was Mark’s only drug of choice that night/morning. My dad started to get uncomfortable. “Hey. Mark. You think you could slow down a little bit?” He did. So now he was going 20 mph on the AC Expressway in obvious defiance. John asked him to pull over. “Why?”
“Because I’m gonna beat the shit out of you.”
That’s where the story ends for me, but I think that’s where it should. Maybe they fought, maybe they drove home in peace. Either way, they did it all again a couple months later, I’m sure. That’s how close dad was with his brothers and sisters. And because this is a part of his life that I wasn’t a part of, it’s great when I get together with the siblings. Because these guys remind me of a part of my dad outside myself. And I’m sure I remind Mark, John and the whole family of another side of him they didn’t see all the time. But this story sums up the relationship that he had with his siblings and though it’s probably not one I’ll ever really have with them, I get closer to it every time I see them, as we no longer have to worry as much about the adult/child boundary. Thanks for sharing, dad. You are still missed by many, many people of all generations.
35 Fake Boot Right Option
I’d like to thank everyone for their comments and “likes” and even just reading the posts about my dad this week. As an adolescent who thought it was OK to wea
r a pink baseball hat all the time while simultaneously not being gay, I know that his coolness was a lot of the reason I had friends. He was a youth football coach, baseball umpire and all around nice guy to the Bridgeport community. I assume that most of my friends at that time were either using me to hang out with him (or Char) or they saw potential in me because of what he had become and once this whole pink hat phase ended, I’d be at least comparably cool. For the record, sorry to disappoint all those who believed the latter. You win some, you lose some.
As I mentioned before, my father was a football coach. MY football coach in fact, and during some of my most formative years. If you know anything about me, well you probably know about my respect for Wilson Phillips. But if you know two things, you know I’m a big football fan, as 35-year-old men probably wouldn’t voluntarily bang bodies with 23-year-olds 80 pounds their senior every weekend for a cause they don’t feel strongly about. But before I even had the opportunity to be coached by my father, I was almost scared away from the sport by Coach Yorgey. Picture Hulk Hogan from the 80s and don’t change anything and that was Coach Yorgey.
The first hour of our two-hour practice consisted entirely of Bull in the Ring, which is a “game” where everyone stands around in a circle with one person waiting anxiously in the middle scared to death and questioning why his sadistic father signed him up for this. Once the Hulk chooses your fate by calling out a name from the circle, that person and the person in the middle will just hit each other to the Hulk’s content. The man was nothing if not passionate about boys hitting each other. No lie – my first practice in pads for football ever, I was thrown into the ring against a guy who turned out to be our fullback, Craig Jones, and he hit me so hard I fell backwards and started rolling down the hill. I just used the momentum I had recently been given by Craig and kept going and did not return to practice. I can in fact still hear the Hulk laughing when I look down that hill back home. But this is not a story about him. That would take too long and I legally need my therapist present while rehashing those memories.
I shot the gauntlet and made it through relatively unscathed to a point where I was actually a fairly well-respected quarterback of an underdog team that overachieved. My father was now my coach. He thankfully did not share the same passion for such deathmatch games. He also unfortunately did not share the same knowledge of the game. I remember one time during his first year when he finally came to the realization as a coach that “we don’t have to try to score on every play.” Even at 9, I understood the concept of down and distance at a level that was apparently way over my dad’s head. That’s when I realized that we were in trouble.
But we had the advantage of being a father/son coach/quarterback combo. We had so many extra hours to talk and scheme in addition to the 10 hours a week we had on the field. And that’s when we came u
p with our signal system. As pee-wee football teams, we were not allowed to have coaches on the field anymore. Most teams would sub in and out a running back or an offensive lineman every play to communicate to the quarterback what play to call in the huddle. Well, our team only had 12 guys. And in the time it took to run the 30 yards from the sideline to the huddle, Georgey would forget the play at least half the time. So my dad and I came up with a system of signs where one half of his body were odd number and the other half were even, and the higher you went, the higher the number was. It was really a fairly simple way to communicate “26 power” into the huddle. My father, however, was not a master of this system which he created. Without getting into too much detail, he would call plays that didn’t exist and couldn’t exist. And more often than not, I’d look over at him trying to figure out what body part to hit – and he’d start and then stare into the air in thought and shake his head and start over – like he was on Password. Every play call looked like a man pantomiming “I just lost my keys.” So I was the only 9-year-old with complete play-calling control in the entire world. Suck that, Peyton.
One of my greatest moments in my life came when we were playing the King of Prussia upper-middle-class Indians. Our rivals. And this was for some sort of championship or at least that’s what I remember being led to believe. They showed up with about 32 people in 4 lines doing jumping jacks before the game. We had 12 scrubs farting on each other. And Georgey couldn’t find his cleats. Dad was better this game than he had been in the past with his signal calling. I remember being impressed that a disproportionate number of the plays he called actually existed in our playbook, whether they were the ones he meant to call or not. But toward the end of the game, we had one drive where we needed to score and it was currently 3rd and goal on the 5 yard line. 35 fake boot right option. I fake the ball to the 3 back through the 5 hole (left side of the line) and I bootleg right (nobody blocking for me) and have the end on the right side run an out pattern. I have the option to either run it or pass it to that one guy, who in this case was Mike McVoy. I’m not sure how he’s matured as a player since, but that would be the equivalent of calling a play for Todd Pinkston to win the game. Well, on this play, I decided to tuck it and run. Mike’s defender came off him and tackled me at the line of scrimmage.
4th and goal from the 5. My dad starts to send in the play. But I had seen something. Something to exploit in their coverage. And I was unfortunately going to 
have to rely on Todd Pinkston to help me. I started to call the play. I could now hear my dad yelling. I ignored him. He sent Georgey in with the play. I waved him back off. He tried to call a time out. We didn’t have any. He was left with no other options but to hope this worked. Nor was I because an insolent act like that will be tough to be forgotten when it’s time for him to just play the father role of his father/coach combo. Hike! The ball was snapped and we ran the fake and I booted around to the right. Same play, same situation. I had the ball in my right hand to throw it, but Pinkston was covered. So I tucked it and started to run forward. Todd’s corner came off him to make the same tackle he made at the line of scrimmage last play. But I never took my hand off the laces. I pulled up and floated the ball like it was an egg I didn’t want broken. Touchdown. And Todd’s moment of glory. And behind the scenes, it was my moment of glory. For my father, through his own incompetence, had turned me into one of the only play-calling 9-year-olds of all time and I still remain one of the best back-up flag football quarterbacks in the Anne Arundel County full contact football league today. And the 35 fake boot right option does not work nearly as well as it does against 9-year-olds. Thanks for the skill set, pops.
Parts of this post may be exaggerated or completely fabricated due to the fallability of human memory and the need for me to brag about myself.
The Lyrical Prankster
My father enjoyed to mess with me as a child. And as an adolescent. And as a young adult. And he was good, because
I wasn’t all that stupid. Every time I grew wise to his ways, he’d reach a new level of straight-faced Kool-Aid that I would once again drink. He got a lot of practice at Markley Billiards, where he and his buddies would mess with the unsuspecting newbies. Whenever a new guy would come in and start eyeing up a stick with his left hand, my dad would tell him that the left-handed sticks had a red dot on the bottom. He would then watch as this poor kid would roam the room looking for a red dot that didn’t exist. I’m not exactly sure how that bit ended.
Well, here’s one that he probably didn’t realize would have the staying power that it did and I really hope it comes across in print like it does when I tell it. I was in the passenger seat of the car on my way down to UMBC for freshman orientation, excited and nervous. This would be the longest time I would be away from my dad ever. We talked all the way down. He gave me advice, we said our goodbyes and we laughed a lot. We noticed a sign that said “No Hazmats in tunnel” on the way down. He asked if I had packed any Hazmats. I don’t know. We had no idea what a Hazmat was. We half expected to be stopped at the tunnel and to have some security officer to pull his gun on us and ask us to take the Hazmat out of the car. I now know what they are and how stupid we both were.
But about halfway down, we saw a sign and he just shouted out “Havre De Grace!” But he pronounced Hav-re as
if it rhymed with Ben Stiller’s pronunciation of Fav-re from Something about Mary. And Grace rhymed with Bocce. De was pronounced like day. Now say it altogether to yourself. Havre de Grace (Lava Day Bocce). He just shouted it out loud and when I looked at him like he was full of shit again, he just told me it was Italian. Well, dad was half Italian and a lot more knowledgeable than I about such things. Besides, he had upped his straight man game something fierce. And since this was the first time I had seen it and it seldom came up about an hour south of there, I lived with that pronunciation of it long into my junior year.
Finally, the day came when this happened. I believe I saw a news reporter say something about Harve de Grace and pronounced it so unprofessionally lazy. The way he said it rhymed with the actual pronunciation of Favre with the words Duh Grace after them. Harve de Grace. I was floored at how sloppy this reporter was. Only three syllables, no roll of the tongue, I couldn’t smell marinara sauce in the background when he said it or anything. I brought this up to Barnes, who was in the room with me and about 6 other people. He laughed. No, I’m serious! How can he call himself a journalist?! His laugh reached a different level, likely from pitied approval to an actual real gut laugh. He told me that’s how it was actually pronounced. All this time, they thought I was just being funny when I said it my way and I thought they were just all being lazy when they said it the apparently correct way. I was the inadvertent victim of my father’s long con and in a way, I was voicing his joke to my friends without my knowledge or consent like a puppet unaware he’s a puppet for over two years.
I called my father with a little bit of sarcastic disapproval and told him that it wasn’t pronounced Lava Day Bocce. What? Oh yeah. I had no idea. This is his reconciliation for the lie that made me the fool for two years. What other lies have you been spinning all these years? I still haven’t forgotten about that Santa Claus thing. Still love you though.
I’ve created my own Father’s Day routine since my dad has passed away back in 2005. I listen to The Living Years, watch 
Big Fish and reread The Heartbreak of Breathing, a short story I wrote about his passing. Yes, I cry. It’s OK. And it’s actually not that uncommon. Lots of things make me cry, including – but not limited to – most Monk episodes, Ron Artest’s psychiatrist-thanking speech, and watching Last Comic Standing episodes. But I consciously make an effort to remember my dad and try to recall things about him that I haven’t thought about in a while. As you may know, I credit him for my sense of humor. Thankfully, I credit mom for my looks [bazinga]. Anyway, I’ve already chronicled in this website many of the things I remember very vividly about my father (note the Father’s Day section on the top right). Well each day this week, I’ll chronicle another memory of him that I haven’t shared with the greater public (Tom – and apparently Nichol. Hi and thanks for reading) on this website yet.
You Snooze You Lose
I believe I can link the fall of the American dollar and the economic depression of the 80s to the invention of the snooze alarm. Instantly, the entire country stopped getting the rest they needed AND no longer showed up to work or the school bus stop on time. It was a downward spiral of unproductivity we knew we were in and yet could not escape, like a spider being flushed down a low to middle class toilet. I was one such victim of the fad. And as our house was quite small, so was my family. The ear-splitting siren would sound and I’d usually be able to get to it before the third deafening beep. Whether I would stay awake or fall back asleep was dictated by a randomly generated Schrodinger-type experiment in my head.
My mother would come in to make sure I was getting ready for school because she was not only a good mother, but also because she didn’t want me to have to ride my bike to school, thus making her feel guilty. But she was too sweet to get me up permanently. And I was a good sleeper. She would come in after about 2 or 3 snoozes. If I ever made it to round 4, that’s when dad would show up. Not as sweet and always a lot angry that he was awoken 4 or 5 times in a row in the morning at seemingly random 9 minute increments. Like Tony Montana-type anger. So I rarely let it get that far.
But one such morning, I was apparently incredibly tired. As stated before, this alarm was so terrifyingly loud, I have nightmares about it still. BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Well on this particular morning, I made it to the 4th snooze. It was Scarface time. But this time, I was completely asleep. My head was inches from this Three Mile Island alarm and people in neighboring counties were putting pillows over their heads. My father came storming in, as the alarm was likely going off for possibly 50 mind-melting beeps in a row. You wanna fuck with me? Okay. You wanna play rough? Okay. Say hello to my little friend!
I was awoken with mixed feelings of confusion, guilt and a terror I wouldn’t feel again until I went skydiv
ing, which hasn’t even happened yet. Realizing the alarm was going off and I had miraculously slept through it, I saw a look of frustrated confusion on Tony’s face. I couldn’t tell you if I thought he expected me to be awake and jamming to the beeps or downstairs and unaware of the alarm. I prefer to think the latter, since he seemed perplexed that I was asleep in the room, which means that his tirade was meant specifically for that alarm clock. It would be a while before I would sleep passed the alarm again, mostly because I couldn’t fall asleep in that house for three months. To this day, when I hear that beep from an alarm clock, part of me expects Tony to come bursting through whatever hotel or guest room door I’m in. I never fucked anybody over in my life didn't have it coming to them. You got that? All I have in this world is my balls and my word and I don't break them for no one. Do you understand? Miss you, dad.
First of all, I’d like to thank those of you who have written me back in the last couple weeks. It means a lot that you all are still alive. Seriously, thanks for keeping in touch. Most replies were from people I haven’t spoken to in many years, including a quote from the past from Jeff Menago, my former fake high school twin who had an actual real twin who looked nothing like him. But he’s a Cowboy fan in Eagles territory, so it’s like he’s not even real anyway. I’ll make sure to get that one in when I can. And for the rest of you, thanks again. I’ll write you back when I’m done what I have decided to call “ignoring you.”
“If at the end of a joke, you have to say ‘You had to be there,’ you shouldn’t have told the joke in the first place.” This is a cardinal rule of comedy that will be published in a book on the subject that I will likely never write. It’s basically what you say at the end of a story that isn’t funny now because it required the audience to be present at the time of the joke. A few friends and I came up with it back in high school and it is also known as the “Sean Dallesandro Axiom.” He used that phrase so much, I don’t think he knew what it meant. Anytime he needed to back out of an unfunny comment. Even knock knock jokes. So the fact that I’m about to disclose the Top 15 Quotes of the Moment of the Last 15 Years is pure hypocrisy. Maybe you had to be there for some of these. I was there for all of them and they were damn funny in the approximate order that I randomly put them in. And like Steve Martin said in his book, this is where real humor resides. Not in stand-up comedy with a contrived context and obvious vocal cues to the audience to laugh. I only hope that you didn’t need to be there for all these to be funny or I’m no better than Sean Dallesandro.
Top 15 Quotes of the Moment
Quote Of the Day 10/23/00
Geoff: "You're nuts, Heidi."
Heidi: "No, Geoff. You're nuts. In fact, you're the definition of nuts."
Geoff: "I'll show you the definition of nuts..."
It's a wonder he had to go to sexual harassment training classes.
#13
Anyway, I was telling my dad my theory on why casinos make money when I got back from Reno. In a nut shell, here it is: See, when you're up $200, you could always be up $300, or even $900. You can always go higher into the positive. But if you start out with $400 and you get to a point where you have $0, you are done. There's a sense of closure…
Quote Of the Day 1/19/01
"Oh, I get it. So there's closure... and then shortly thereafter there's foreclosure."
-The Dad
Spoken like an experienced gambler.
Quote Of the Day 9/20/99
"Sprouting Weasel"
-Sprouting Weasel
This is actually remarkably similar to how "Extendo" came about.
#11
You know, rooming with Billy makes quote of the day so much easier. I could probably have a quote of the day and a Billy of the day if I so desired. Well, this came up in a conversation with Mark about why beastiality wasn't natural (don't ask)...
Quote Of the Day 9/23
Mark: "Guy and a dog, can't make a kid."
Billy: "Yeah, but they can make a cat."
And we let Billy experiment with test tubes.
#10
After a long day of playing 4 volleyball matches on Saturday, the team took a trip to the Olive Garden for a nice team bonding dinner. We were all starving and we didn't see food until about 45 minutes after we sat down. This turned out to be a problem. Clint and I were both famished and couldn't think of anything else. He suggested that we start drawing straws to see who we were going to kill and eat like in that movie Alive. That's not exactly what they did in Alive, but that's not the point. Anyway, we started picking out potential people to eat. We couldn't eat Milky because we needed him for the games on Sunday, and Drew was just too skinny for our hunger. He suggested Driz...
Quote Of the Day 11/18/99
Me: "I don't know. Is it really safe to eat Driz?"
Clint: "Sure... I mean, we eat cows."
#9
Anyway, I was recently playing hold em online with my dad and got an ace-four. I told him I didn't want to call because I had an ace with a poor kicker...
Quote of the Day 2/7/05
"That's not a kicker. That's not even a punter."
-The dad.
#8
I went to a club with a few people last Thursday, and outside the door, there existed this guy yelling "If you're over 21, get in this line... If you're under 21, get in this line" as he pointed to 2 different lines. Aaron turned to me and said...
Quote Of the Day 12/21/00
"Well, what if you're 21?"
-A-Rock
Aaron had to leave.
#7
Well, I have a follow-up to the last chicken finger joke, and this one is by the same guy on a completely separate occasion. We were eating at Pizzeria Unos in Maryland on my birthday, and we saw an item in the menu called "chicken thumbs." Well, this set Craig into "joke mode" and there was just no turning him back...
Quote Of the Day 1/7/99
"Chicken thumbs!?! What the hell is that? (turns to waitress) You know, thanks to you guys, there are thumbless chickens running around out there like this (hold hands up with thumbs concealed behind palms) 'OOooh God! NOOooo!! Oh, if it weren't for you, we'd be able to use tools...'"
- Craig Klukus
Animal Rights Activists
He went on, but his attempts to cut his steak without thumbs can only translate so well over e-mail.
#6 
There are two brothers, Kevin and Erick. Erick has a girlfriend who, through some extraordinary stroke of luck, isn't dumb, and likes him (sounds like a contradiction there). Anyway, she bought him a tiny little thingy thing for Christmas. It was wooden, about 6 inches tall, and had a series of little ramps that if you dropped a little tiny silver ball on the top one, it would go down to the next one, and to the next one, and through about five or six of these ramps all the way to the bottom. The thingy thing came with its own little tiny silver balls that were the perfect shape to slide down this wooden piece of... work. It's not a very complex piece of machinery. Well, Kevin, Erick's younger brother, says "Wow, neat!" and proceeds to pick up one ball at a time and drop them on the top ramp and watches in amazement as they all make their way down to the bottom, where Kevin would pick them up from and repeat the process. As he picks up another ball and watches it roll down the simple model, Kevin asks...
Quote Of the Day 2/17
Kevin: "HEY! Is this a perpetual motion thing?"
Maria: "Yeah... If you keep doing it."
Kevin is a psychology major. That might help put things into perspective.
#5
I was trying to explain this 9 card poker game to a few friends of mine to try to get them to play. I think I had a couple of them, but Erick had to go and resist saying that he thought the game sounded made up...
Quote of the Day 2/11/03
"Well, aren't all games made up?"
-J-Me
Apparently not.
#4
Well, as you all possibly know already, I went to the Inner Harbor for New Years Eve with 5 guys and no chicks. Upon retrospect, that's maybe one of the few things about that night I'd change. Anyway, we wound up in the middle of the inner harbor at exactly the stroke of midnight. I think I kissed a girl I didn't and still don't know. If memory serves me correctly, I think she was surprised and not necessarily pleasantly. Ah, she'll get over it. But anyway, from there, we went to Max's, who, unbeknownst to us, was having a private party. We had no idea of this until they didn't charge us for drinks. I don't remember leaving the bar. I remember talking to a girl named Shannon who Mike later said was hot. But what the hell would he know, he doesn't remember leaving the bar either. Apparently we wrestled on the way home and I pinned him and then proceeded to shove his head into the mulch repeatedly. That's the kind of crap you wish you could remember. Oh well. We were reminiscing about the events of the previous night (that which we could recall) at the International House of Hangovers, and Tony sarcastically interjected...
Quote of the Day 1/15/01
Tony: "Dustin, at one point, you were hitting on a lamppost."
Me: "Well, she was hot."
Mike: "Yeah, but not very bright."
But she was probably at least 18.
Quote Of the Day 4/30
Me: "Damnit. I'm on my second bite and I already started using the wrong fork."
Hassan: "That's OK. I already ate my cake."
And I think he used the salad fork to do it too.
#2
This quote came from a conversation I had with Evil Lance McFreelander as he was in the process of signing his contract a few weeks ago with Little Boy Hair Girl (I need to start re-nicknaming my friends again). Anyway, he was trying to describe to me the state of being his relationship with Teresa was in...
Quote of the Day 2/14/01
Me: "So are you guys exclusive now?"
Mike: "Well... kinda."
Me: "Well, if she goes out with somebody else, would you get pissed?"
Mike: "Yeah."
Me: "And if you go out with somebody else, would she get pissed?"
Mike: "Gosh, I hope not."
Where do I sign?
#1
I had an internship last year and there was about a span of three weeks when I didn't have a car, and so I needed Proz to wake up and drive me there at 7 in the morning every Tuesday and back again around 5 or something. Well, we were driving back home after a long ass day and we passed a Saab. I started telling him that the ignition to a Saab is down between the driver's side and passenger's side of the seats. I then began to tell him that I knew this because we have a Saab. Well, we don't really have one, but my uncle from Maine, who isn't technically my uncle, went to Spain indefinitely, and... (he cut me off)
Quote Of the Day 2/7&8
"Wait, wait, wait. Is this another Saab story?"
-The slightly smarter half of Dumb and Uglier
I don't think I ever finished my story.
That’s it. 15 years of unscripted humor wrapped up into a ten minute block of congealed awesome. And just in time for me to go watch my bracket implode. Stay tuned next week whenI veer off the Quote Path and bring you the hugely anticipated Top 15 Awesome Moments of the Last 15 Years (anticipated by who, exactly?). And yes, these will be moments in Dustinland, not worldly events like the moon landing, which I’d be willing to bet took place more than 15 years ago anyway. So stop back in to check on that. And feel free to call and remind me this week if you know of any. Right now, I think I can think of 3.
Still Standing Right Here...
Quote of the Day 15-Year Anniversary!!!
I know what you’re thinking. And you’re probably right. But I did it anyway.
Fifteen years ago today, somewhere near the intersection of Arrogance and Insecurity, this “quote of the day” as it is still misleadingly called, was birthed into existence. And like most 15 year-olds, it has gone through a lot of changes, most of them painful. For those who were there in the beginning, I apologize. For those around during the golden years, thank you for your patience. And for those around now, let me explain.
But before I explain, I owe you all an explanation. See this all really started out as an internet experiment. My college roommate said something funny on the way to dinner and e-mail was brand new, so I thought I’d send out what he said to the 23 people I had e-mail addresses for. Fifteen years later, it’s now live on a website with pictures and video and color. And I probably have fewer readers.
Now I know a few of you probably smelled this coming, but only because I told you I was going to fart. Most of you probably had no idea I even remembered this day or celebrated it or even had a website now. You’re all too busy ignoring my stand-up career to ignore the quote of the day (heretofore known as QOTD). Well, I will be ignored no longer. And for those that haven’t figured this out now, I avoid the word “blog” like it’s my credit report. I will sooner refer to the QOTD as a daily website humor column, which is probably less true, as it is definitely not daily and occasionally contains no humor. But everybody has a blog and my shit predates the blog. So play along if you don’t mind and call it whatever you want to behind my back.
Fifteen years, people. That’s how much time has gone by since I started this thing. Just think about how much has happened in that time. Lots of you have graduated high school, gotten married, had kids, got divorced, graduated college, went to jail, got remarried, lost loved ones, had grandkids, got out of jail, moved to the west coast, injured yourself, moved from the west coast, injured someone else, gotten new jobs, gotten fired, quit smoking, started smoking, went off to war, had your house sprayed for bed bugs, graduated middle school, learned origami, ate sushi, graduated grade school, sang karaoke, made a snowman (Ed note: I think he’s stuck), fell down the stairs, complained to HR about your boss, stuck a body part out of a roller coaster against your better judgment and the ride operator’s wishes, etc. I know fifteen years ago, I wasn’t nearly the man I am now. I was hopelessly single and working in the Rec Sports department of a small college in Baltimore with over $15,000 in student loans to pay back. And look at me now! Now I have almost twice that much to still pay back. At least I know origami.
But really. Does anybody remember what they were doing fifteen years ago today? I do. I was walking with John and a few other friends from Susquehanna dorm to the back entrance of the UMBC dining hall, making fun of this new musical artist that Marky Mark liked. Here’s what my 23 friends had in their e-mail inbox that evening:
Subject: quote of the day 3/3
>From! now on, I'm going to try to have a quote of the day. If it gets annoying, tell me.
-Dustin.
March 3, 1995
"If I ever understand Beck, I'll kill myself."
-John Sears (Tonto Sleepyhead)
That was it. No bitching about cars, no pandering to chicks to play on my volleyball team and no pleading to come watch my stand-up routine. That came later (and often). That was just the wisecrack that started the landslide of both insightful, poignant social commentary and poorly thought-out, completely unjustified verbal discharge that has graced approximately a thousand of you people throughout the last 15 years. And it’s somehow managed to outlast a lot of things, the least of which is Beck’s career. Granted, it isn’t nearly as explosive as it used to be, when I put up 122 quotes in its first year of existence. Since then, the QOTD has taken a backseat to a few trivial things, such as facebook scrabble, Lost discussion groups and working so I can afford food so I can live. But it is still alive and kicking and in the past few months, has been as active as ever. It’s about time to let you all know about it so Tom can have some company when reading the damn thing. Back in the QOTD heyday, I would give out a yearly MVP award to the person with the most quotes over the course of a season. First of all, I am using a very loose definition of the word “award,” probably more closely associated with kudos and attaboys than any actual prize. Secondly, all the info I used for this season’s award is based on the 05-06 and 06-07 seasons for reasons that would bore the hell out of those of you still reading, so I’m not going to bother explaining. All that said, I now present to you the MVP of the 05-06 and 06-07 seasons, possibly the last seasons under the original scoring method. And as so much time has passed, it may be a little tougher to guess who it would be. Certainly Tony and Mike are top contenders every year, though Mike may have bought himself a few extra considerations with his move out to the Midwest a mere two months after mine. Was there enough left from Perpendicular Keith or Mr. Geoff to last before I left in August 2005? Or would it be someone from the new school? Maybe Seth or Wach-Man from the Rec Center? Or Bill from our countless drunken Miami University nights? Or could my dad contend with his quips about his lung cancer that kept the doctors laughing up until the last few days he was with us? The results have been tallied and in a squeaker, we have a repeat champion. I guess it pays to follow me to the middle of nowhere. Mike “Just because I don’t remember doesn’t mean I wasn’t listening” Conover was in first with an uncontested 5, with a surprising Good Joe “You don’t have to like them, you just have to accept them as a gift” Titlow right behind him with 4. There was a log jam at third, with 5 people each having 3 QOTDs apiece. Congrats to Erick (who you’ll hear from later), my very own sister, Mr. Geoff, Tony (of course) and finally, the man who started all this 36 years ago – my father. No real surprises in there if you think about it. But if you don’t think about it, MAN you would have been floored. Good work, Mike. But now that I moved back east, a mere 5 miles from Tony, you may want to think about renting a U-Haul and getting your ass out here if you want to be a real contender. I also want to take this time to pay tribute to not just one of the great contributors to the QOTD, but also a great man, my father. I know a lot of you were there with me when he passed back in 2005 and I haven’t thanked all of you enough who drove up from Maryland or flew in from Boston or just across the street to his standing-room only memorial service. It was a great tribute. And while the rest of the family had gotten pictures together, I got a board of all the quotes he had contributed in the past 10 years. And it was great to see everyone come up to the board and laugh. It truly kept his spirit alive and without this QOTD that I started 15 years ago, I likely would have remembered exactly none of them. So thank you, QOTD, for the memory and of course my dad, Glen “That’s what I meant. What are you, deaf?” Fisher for the memories. The Indians believe that as long as a man is still talked about that his spirit will never die. So as long as I keep up this QOTD, his spirit never will. And with the internet the way it is now, that’s likely to be eternal. And now onto the part you’ve all been waiting for, whether you knew it or not. The QOTD of the year! Really two years – and about three years ago, but the QOTD of the year nonetheless. But it would be sacrilegious not to check out the lineage of the past winners first. Usually the quote comes from everyday life on the gridiron, the poker tables, the dodge ball battlefield or from the Van of Stench somewhere in Kansas. One of the things I like about the QOTD however, is that it can come from anywhere. I have quoted 4 of my old professors and 9 of my own family members in addition to 3 friend's mothers and a friend's father. Point is, you should always be on your game. But one of the standard favorites that I have been jackhammering into the muck for the last 14 years came from back in April of 1995, only a month after I started this train. It was debuted as the quote of the month/ year/ decade back then and I still think it's one of the best I've laid my ears on... The following year was a tough one because nothing really jumped out at me like the other one. But it was John. And he was making fun of me. Not just that, but he was doing it within the context of the quote of the day, which makes it exponentially better... Quote Of the Year 1996-97 So this past weekend, we were all hanging out in John's room (the 5 of us who stayed this weekend), and John was reading a quote of the day, when he turned around and said to me... Quote Of the Day 4/8 "How can you still be standing right there? You've been standing there for like two years. Take a walk! Sit down! Go out!..." -My roommate that's not really my roommate The 1997-98 quote of the year actually got the honor by being the only one nominated. I never had a quote nominated for quote of the year before, so I figured this was going to be an easy decision. Steve "Baritone" Zebrowski liked this quote so much, he e-mailed me for about the first time in over a year and asked if I was accepting votes for quote of the year, if there was such a thing. Well, Steve, thanks to you, there is such a thing now. And what a beast it's turned into. Anyway, here it is... Well, my family and I went to New York City this break to see The Capeman, Paul Simon's musical. The city was really cool, and the musical was good too. My dad started talking about how I needed to get a job and an apartment up here so he could live here for a year and visit all the libraries to get a lot of information. He's a big information junkie. Anyway, these are his thoughts on if he got to live in New York for a year... Quote of the Day 2/4 "I would be filled with so much information, it would be a sin to let me die." -My father, the hero... 1998-99's quote of the year honor struck a chord relatively close to home for me. Mostly because it was back home where the quote came from and it was about the trip Mike and I were about to take across the country. My panel of judges (Tony, with Misti in the back seat agreeing to whatever he said) carefully weighed all of the nominees and came up with this... Well, this brings us to our quote. Mike has a pretty crappy car too, and we were talking about whether or not we could drive to Las Vegas. Anyway, he told me that he'd have to find out if it was downhill first. "Most people look at road maps before they take a trip. I look at elevation charts." -Mike Congrats again, Mike. I'd give you a tote bag, but you already have a bag full of bags, just nothing to carry them in. For the 1999-2000 season, I actually started to use a panel of judges. I took the funniest 13 quotes I could find and sent them to a randomly selected (I fixed it) group of panelists to vote on which they thought were the funniest quotes in the last year. So of course it would figure that three people on the panel would have a hand in that year's quote of the year. Well, this quote is kinda like my three best unmarried friends in tandem. But in this case, tandem doesn't mean they all jump out of a plane attached to one another. The reason this quote is so great is because it involves all three of them directly or indirectly, and it's about my massive tool: I don't know if you know the principals behind AOL Instant Messenger, but if you type a message to me, the entire sentence pops up on my screen when you hit enter, and vice versa. So many times, when both parties are typing at the same time, the messages will pop up one right after the other, before the parties have a chance to read what the other had written first. Well, you get the point. I hope. Here's what happened in a conversation between Good Joe (using Mike's account) and Tony the day it snowed a lot and Joe was supposed to come down to MD for the night: So there you have it. The quote of 1999-2000 was about my huge penis. And I didn't even have to fix the ballots. It was funny enough to everyone as it was. Hey, wait a minute... I continued using a panel of hand selected judges and using a third eye blind experimentation process, we came up with Tony's second quote of the year in a row... ...Anyway, I went and got a ping pong table and two paddles and a few balls at Dick's Sporting Goods the week before vacation and it wasn't long before Russ threatened to break one by slamming it on the table... So there it is. The Quote of the Year went to Tony for the second year in a row. And also for the second year in a row, he was talking about the male organ. Obsessive maybe? Anyway, congratulations again Tony. That's four successive calendar years that you've had the title. Now let somebody else play. The 02-03 season (I'm replacing the word "year" with "season" from now on because of the fact that... well, because I'm a year late and all) had many fewer quotes, but just as many quality ones, thanks to the invention of paper, pens and pockets. And this is one where every time I read it, my body has a weird chemical reaction somewhere between laughter, embarrassment, and an uncomfortable urge to run 5 miles. OK, I run this program on campus in which I try to marry Rec Sports and Res Life in our intramurals. I award points for participation in every sport. I knew this one team was from Patapsco, but I didn't know which hall (3rd South, etc.). So I called the front desk and after I fell over my words about 3 or 4 times, asked the girl (I think her name was Meghan) on the phone if she could tell me where this guy lived, but I didn't really need to know his address, I just needed to know what hall he lived on. Silence. So then I started explaining what I was doing with the whole Rec Sports/Res Life thing and in the middle of what was already the most uncomfortable conversation I've ever had... Quote Of the Day 2/13/03 You can feel the uncomfortable awkwardness from miles away. It's been over seven years now and I'm still trying to think of something to say back to her. And that was enough to make it the 02-03 season’s quote of the year. I guess the more painful they are, the more funny they are. Like Jerry Lewis Pratt falls, but much more heterosexual. So anyway, the quote of the year goes to my ex-girlfriend Megan in the last words she's ever spoken to me. It's good to see that though our relationship couldn't stand the test of time, the humor and the bitterness has. Last season’s quote of the year isn’t nearly as painful for me to read, which likely means it isn’t nearly as funny. I’ll have to go out and create more awkward situations just to be able to write more about them. But anyway, this quote is worthy of the quote of the year for its sheer improvisational prowess. Quote of the Year 2004-2005 So there ya go. You’re all caught up. Except of course for the quote of the year so awesome, it’s actually been 5 years in the making. And honestly, more than that. See, this past season, I put it to a panel of 11 people, half QOTD historians and half people who don’t know anything about the QOTD or any of these people, to make it more genuine. And to find out who is really funny and who I’ve been giving too much credit these past 15 years. And the top two vote-getters did not disappoint. But there is another that I feel the need to make a note of. In my PDA. Honorable Mention Quote of the Year 2005-2007 …Actually, I don't have a PDA. In fact, I was running the beach volleyball tournament last year and as a joke, I got a pencil and went to record the score of a game on my yellow lined legal notebook and said out loud to myself, “Well, let me just record this in my P.D.A...” Quote of the Day 3/16/05 “Don't you mean your P.A.D.?” -Justin Costa Didn't see that one coming. Nice work, bro. Speaking of not seeing something coming, this guy is probably one of the most underrated Quote Masters of his time for just that reason. Looking back, this quip was probably easy enough to think of, but he did it on the spot as if it were written for him with cameras pointed at him from off stage. In fact, all 5 of us were sitting around the same side of the table. It’s starting to make sense now. Runner-up Quote of the Year 2005-2007 …Speaking of tattooed chicks (how you like that, Actual Sis?), I got into the conversation with a few friends about a month ago talking about girls that have a tattoo on the small of their spine. Sure, we all heard Vince Vaughn say that it might as well be a bulls eye in Wedding Crashers (which will actually segue into my next message), but I just found out that they are also called “tramp stamps.” It’s not a flattering name, but I don’t think it was intended to be. And so, I made a joke to the effect of “well, no wonder all my exes have them” which is barely funny and also a complete lie. But it begat this, which was worth the self degradation… Quote of the Day 10/2/06 “I didn’t think you were allowed to get tattoos until you were 18.” -E Hersh Well isn’t that the pot calling the kettle “pot?” I remember when I made that comment thinking to myself “why did I say that? It’s not true OR funny.” Then that happened and it made all of my flailing around for attention seem worthwhile. And now onto the big show, the one you’ve REALLY all been waiting for, like I said about 5 single-spaced pages at 12-point Times New Roman font ago. Quote of the Year 2005-2007 Setting: Bridgeport, PA – August 1998ish. So my pops was walking the mile home from the video store after working all day and passed a Dominoes Pizza store. He figures that he’s hungry, why not stop in and order a pizza and take it back home. He tries to open the door. It’s locked. The entire front of the place is all glass and he can see people inside throwing dough up in the air. So he bangs on the door. Somebody in there looks over his shoulder and pointed to a sign. The sign said “no walk-in customers after 9pm.” I suppose they were intimidated by his bolo tie and plaid flannel shirt. So he yells inside “I just want to order a pizza!” They shrug their shoulders and go back to flipping dough. About a minute later, they get a phone call. “Dominoes Pizza, how may I help you?” Quote of the Day 8/22/06 “Well, what’s your fucking address? Order it to yourself, just outside.” -The Dad. He did not get a pizza that night. I swear I did not fix this, nor did I even have a vote. Mike had already been let out of the tub before he voted, I swear. But it is very fitting that this is the quote of the year, as it’s become a significant part of my stand-up routine since I started doing that in December 2007. The story doesn’t always get the biggest laughs of the night, but that line definitely hits the hardest every time I tell it, no matter what the venue. So thanks, dad, one more time. And congratulations. You retired a champion. Like the John Elway of quotes. I’m assuming you don’t need any more tote bags. I don’t think anybody ever really used them. Also, I should say that I’ve taken a lot of the 10-year anniversary edition and I’ve cut and pasted a lot from there. And what I’ve decided is that I’m jealous of the person I was 5 years ago. That dude was damn clever. I really recommend reading that one and I hope to become him once again. The reason I keep coming back to this Quote of the Day is because it means so much to me. See, I don’t keep a diary, because I’m not gay, so this is all I got. And you can pretty much patch together the last 15 years of my life through these QOTDs. I lived in 5 different rooms in two dorms and an apartment complex. Then I moved out and kept goin. Four places around the greater Baltimore area, a tragic panic-attack triggered 3-year layover in Ohio and another two places back in MD to land in the apartment I’m in right now, living with a real live actual girlfriend who really likes me and everything. Which is probably why I hadn’t written anything in the first year I’d been back. Since I started the QOTD, I've had 30 roommates, 7 cars and (get this) over 20 jobs. I lost count. And I'm not even counting the ones where I just showed up for a day to drive 50 Safe Kids vans from a fire department in Bowie to the Washington Monument in the middle of the night with Stryker. I mean actual jobs over sustained periods of time. I truly thought that when I first sent out that first quote that it might last the last three months of the semester and that's all. I had no intention of spanning the globe from California to Thailand, and from Alabama to Australia. And I definitely didn't figure I’d ever reach close to a thousand people over the last decade. And guess what, folks? It’s time the QOTD found its way back to where it used to be. A seldom read e-mail article that makes me feel like I’m doing something with my life. Prepare yourselves. So I started working at the University of Baltimore about a year and a half ago now. I’m a pretty recognizable figure on campus, but still nowhere near the popularity that I had back at UMBC in the days of the “Dustin RecSports” voicemails. I would seriously meet people out at a bar and tell them I was Dustin and inevitably they would get a glow of excitable recognition on their face and say “You mean Dustin from RecSports?” And I’d say yes and they’d buy me a drink and proceed to tell me how awesome it was that they got to hang out with somebody so cool and funny and attractive before they went home with the SAE guy with the Free Mustache Ride t-shirt on. And those were just the guys. Anyway, I joined this Biggest Loser program a colleague is putting on at UB to lose some of the 10 pounds I’ve put on since I moved in with Jen. I’m on a team of 10. Not just one, but two of the girls in my group went to UMBC around 2000-2004, in the height of my popularity there. Shortly after I passed this medicine ball back and forth with this girl in the group, she told me that she was from UMBC and knew of my voice mails, even though she never went to the Rec Center… Quote of the Day 3/3/10 “I can’t wait to tell my boyfriend I’m working out with Dustin from Rec Sports.” -Stephanie Something Even though I’m off the market and haven’t worked there in 5 years, the conversation still ends the same. With me being awesome and her telling her boyfriend about me. Burn. Doing what I can for the people I love, Dustin. All said and finished
Quote Of the Year 1995-96
The Set-Up...
"Love is like hearts. You want to follow suit, but you don't want to have the lead."
-Me
The Quote...
"If love is like hearts, than sex is like spades. If you don't have a good partner, you damn well better have a good hand."
-Weed
Quote Of the Year 1997-98
...sandwich.
(ED note: This is obviously a bittersweet one for me, but one that’s nevertheless true and certainly still funny. Love you, dad)
Quote Of the Year 1998-99
Quote of the Day 6/9/98
Quote Of the Year 1999-2000
Quote Of the Day 1/21/00
WhiteTony: Smart move by not coming down here today.
GoodJoe4U: Thanks.
GoodJoe4U: I think Dustin has a small penis.
WhiteTony: They changed the forecast to as much as 14-20 inches.
GoodJoe4U: Laughing...too hard...can't...type...
Quote Of the Year 2000-2001
Quote Of the Day 1/3/01
Me: "If we break one of these we'll have to go back to Dicks."
Tony: (walking past the table) "I'm NOT using my dick!"
I'll bet you're laughing out loud.
Quote of the Year 2002-2003
Me: "OK, wait. Let me explain myself. My name is Dustin and I work for the Rec Sports office -"
Girl: (cutting me off) "I know. I dated you for 7 months."
Oh. THAT Megan.
Quote Of the Day 4/17/04
Keith: "I find it hard to breath indoors."
Jason: "I find it hard to breath in water."
I know what you're thinking. Jason is weird.
“Yeah, I’d like a small plain pizza.”
“Your name?”
“Glen.”
“And where would you like that delivered?”
“Right here.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hold on.”
My dad walks over to the window and leans over to wave inside and yells “Hi!”
“Yeah, I’d like my pizza delivered right here.”
“But we can’t do that.”
“Why not?! I’m here. I have money.”
“But we need an address.”
I got miles left ahead
Should we be laughing
Or fighting instead
Never sure when
To say all those little things
Unsure in front of me
Of what the next one brings
But I've tried and I've tried and I've lied and I've lied...
But I've gotten nowhere
But I've tried and I've tried and I've lied and I've lied...
Still standing right here
All huddled up
With a couple close friends
Then you step outside, come back
And there'll be one less of them
Their foes will line en up
And their guns will shoot en down
And they'll all keep on leavin
Until you're the only one left around
But I've tried and I've tried and I've lied an! d I've lied...
Still standing right here
I thought I was important
Used to walk with my head tall
Yeah, I thought that I was different
Coulda sworn I knew it all
I had friends I could rely on
They were there at every call
But they always seem to leave me
With my back against the wall
But I've tried and I've tried and I've lied and I've lied...
Still standing right here
But I've tried and I've tried and I've lied and I've lied...
Still standing right here
I know many people
Have stood where I stand
Benn searchin for years now
For just one honest man
People tell me I can trust them
And then they'll play their little games
And then I tell them I'll be faithful
But sometimes I act the same
But I've tried and I've tried and I've lied and I've lied...
Still standing right here
But I've tried and I've tried and I've lied and I've lied...
And I've gotten nowhere
But I've tried and I've tried and I've lied and I've lied...
Still standing right here
-lyrics by Drew Holloway and Dustin Fisher
