The most stressful part of coming back to college every year is meeting your roommates. Best case scenario – you get a new groomsman. Worst case scenario…actually, there are infinity worst-case scenarios. Lice. Top-bunk toenail clipper. Kleptomaniac. Pyromaniac. Regular maniac.

To take a few bullets out of the Roommate Roulette chamber, many college students choose to room with people they already know. Sure, they may be lowering their chances of making a new BFF, but when it comes time to confront a vindictive shower urinater, you need all the allies you can get.

That’s why I decided to room with my brother Jesse my junior year of college. I was already pretty familiar with Jesse’s work as a roommate after sharing a room with him for 20 years. He had a few annoying habits like leaving his light on after falling asleep, but at least I knew he wouldn’t give me scabies. Continue reading →

I pride myself on my ability to stay calm through anything without getting flustered. When Deserae’s feeling especially feisty, she gets a lot of joy out of testing this ability through poking.

Literally. She will physically poke my belly while saying the words, “Poke…Poke…Poke.”

“Stop! What are you doing?”

“I’m poking you!” she will say with a giant smile on her face. “Are you getting annoyed yet?”

It takes much more than that to fluster me. A few pokes can’t compare to Calm Dustin’s kryptonite: Playoff Dad. Continue reading →

The NBA Finals are all about hope and redemption. Heroes and legends. They’re where stars are made and careers are reborn.

I’m not talking about the players, of course. I’m talking low-tier celebrities.

Every year, B- and C-list celebrities find a way to become HUGE fans of a team just before the Finals through some tenuous connection (my dad lived in Ohio when he was in third grade, so maybe I could sing the National Anthem or at least get floor seats?)  The ultimate goal, the gold medal, for these celebrities is making the ABC broadcast. Silver medal is the arena jumbotron and bronze is the People.com slideshow the next day.

The NBA Finals start tomorrow, and Games 3 and 4 are in Cleveland. Today, celebrities across the world are trying to figure out if a chance at Jumbotron glory is worth spending a whole day in Cleveland.

To those celebrities, I would like to offer the Cautionary Tale of Judy Greer. Continue reading →

Matthew Dellavedova is not very good at basketball.

That is not something that I would normally feel comfortable saying about a professional basketball player, but it’s OK because it’s basically the same thing his own team has said many times.

Dellavedova plays backup point guard for the Cleveland Cavaliers. A few months ago, the Cavs tried very hard to find literally ANYONE ELSE to play backup point guard. The GM talked openly about it – “We are trying to find a backup point guard,” he’d say to reporters during practice with Delly missing layups in the background.

The Cavs called a lot of free agents.

“Hi Steve Nash! Can you be our backup point guard? Matthew Dellavedova is not very good at basketball.”

“I’m 41, and I can’t walk.”

“…Like we’d really only need you to walk for 10 minutes a game. Surely you can walk for 10 minutes?”

If you are unfamiliar with Matthew’s work, he is a smallish white man from Australia who spends most of his playing time upsetting players on both teams, getting thrown to the ground by bigger people and attempting passes like this.

He’s also my favorite player on the Cavs to root for.

Watching Delly compete in basketball is a lot like watching Australia compete in the Winter Olympics. Australia is a wonderful country that is blessed with beautiful coral reefs, friendly people and kangaroos. But no snow. As a result, Australians are AWFUL in the Winter Olympics.

I know this, because Deserae and I visited Australia during the Winter Olympics last year. Watching the Winter Olympics in Australia is very different from watching in America. For example, since the country doesn’t have much interest in winter sports, it doesn’t produce many knowledgeable broadcasters. The result is kind of like watching the Olympics with your mom.

American broadcast: “You see how she lands on the inside edge of her skate so she can immediately launch into a second triple axle. She’s landing blind, so degree of difficulty is incredible.”

Australian broadcast: “Ohhhh! That’s pretty!” Continue reading →

Mother’s Day is a week behind us now, but I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to point out something special that should qualify my mom for a Congressional Medal of Honor.

My mom raised five kids without killing any of them, which is commendable but not especially unusual in the scope of history, since pioneer women averaged nine children apiece and had to churn butter for all of them. However, my mom’s five children were all afflicted with one unexplainable malady that I’m betting the pioneer moms never dealt with: we were physically unable to throw up in the toilet.

Every incident would play out like this one: After school, I’d develop a tummy ache and ask my mom to take my temperature. She’d feel my head, find that I did have a fever, then set up the Sick Spot on the couch and give me the throw-up bucket – a purple witch trick-or-treat pail from McDonalds (No one knew where the throw-up bucket – pictured above – came from because we’re a Burger King family, plus my mom HATES witches).

That evening, I’d bring the throw-up bucket upstairs with me, and my mom would tuck me in. Before turning off the light, she’d turn around with pleading eyes and make one simple request.

“If you throw up, can you PLEASE get it in the toilet?”

I’d nod my head with all the sincerity in the world, then she’d sigh, nod back and shut off the lights. Continue reading →

Throughout my life, I’ve perfected a method for learning anything – guitar, snowboard, driving, etc. Last week, I used it to learn how to windsurf. As usual, it went fantastic.

If you’re ready to learn something new, follow these simple steps, and you’ll have it mastered. Probably in a day.

Step 1

Go in with extreme confidence that has been fueled by lifelong dreams and YouTube videos. For as long as I can remember, learning to windsurf has been among my top 3 dreams (It’s right between hang gliding and getting a job at the CIA). I have spent HOURS watching windsurfing videos online, becoming more and more confident in my ability to do sweet spins off of waves if I ever got a hold of a board.

Last week, Deserae and I were in Aruba, an island that was having its windiest week in more than a decade. As we were driving back to the hotel from a long morning of snorkeling, I spotted a beach with signs advertising windsurfing lessons and an ocean with tons of people zipping around on little boards. I pulled over, explaining to Deserae that I “just wanted to see how expensive it is.” The next thing Deserae knew, her husband was giddily forking over $50 for a lesson and board rental.

Step 2

Listen to the first two minutes of instruction before tuning out. While he was setting up the board, the windsurfing instructor explained that the wind was blowing 30 mph out to sea. I wouldn’t get good enough today to sail back into it, so I needed to stay inside the buoys. If I went past them, I’d no longer be able to touch the bottom, and I’d have to swim my board back to land, which would be nearly impossible with this wind.

After he finished his set-up, he let me stand on the board and hold the sail. He gave me a bunch more instructions that I didn’t hear because I WAS STANDING ON A WINDSURF BOARD. Continue reading →

It is now Wednesday, and people are still upset that a tax evader and woman beater stole $100 from them by dancing in a ring for 12 rounds last Saturday. If you got burned by the Pacquiao-Mayweather fight this weekend, I’d like to make things up to you a little bit by sharing the story of the only time I’ve been punched in the face.

It may surprise you to learn that I did not get into fights growing up. There are two main reasons for this:

• While other kids were learning sweet fight moves from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, I was learning about The Hunchback of Notre Dame from a Jack Russell Terrier named Wishbone.
• I have the physique of a walking stick.

These two things kept me safe from scuffles all the way into junior high. Then the Perfect Snowball happened. Continue reading →

Once in a lifetime—twice if you’re lucky—you get to witness a miracle. Maybe it’s not fire from heaven or bodies rising from the dead, but you never forget how special that moment feels.

I got my miracle right after I graduated from high school. I had just walked out of Applebee’s, where I was eating delicious half-price wings and worrying about my desperate summer job situation. As I unlocked my car, I noticed something white tucked under my windshield wiper. It was a note from my guardian angel.

“Need a summer job? $12-$20/hour! Flexible schedule! Call today!”

It was the most beautiful miracle I had ever seen.

The next morning, I called the number and learned that the company was doing group interviews that very afternoon! The receptionist didn’t tell me much except the name of the company: Vector Marketing. It sounded futuristic. Maybe they were with NASA?

That afternoon, I showed up to Vector Marketing in my ill-fitting suit. The office turned out to be not super futuristic, since it was in the basement of a sad, gray office building and the door was propped open by a paint can. Continue reading →

I don’t know what goes through your mind at weddings. Maybe you’re critiquing the dresses or trying to guess the menu or betting how long the marriage will last. When I go to weddings I’ve got only one thing on my mind: don’t screw this up.

This fear was drilled deep inside me as a child two different ways. The first was my dad turning around every time our van pulled into the parking lot for a wedding or funeral to warn us kids that if we fooled around and ruined this for everyone, we would get The Spanking of a Lifetime when we got home. The other, of course, was America’s Funniest Home Videos. Continue reading →

“WE ARE GOING TO BED EARLY TONIGHT!”

It is 5:30 a.m. The alarm has just gone off and an angry, poofy-haired Deserae is standing over my side of the bed. I nod.

“Like 9 o’clock!”

I nod.

“I’M SERIOUS!”

I nod. It’s not going to happen.

When Deserae yells, “WE ARE GOING TO BED EARLY” every morning, I’ve come to realize that she’s not yelling at me at all. She’s actually trying to yell into the future to Nighttime Deserae. Unfortunately, Nighttime Deserae can’t hear her, because she’s too busy talking and giggling and partying and trying to figure out new ways to stay awake. Continue reading →