Archive for June, 2009

Come on!! Is she or isn’t she?!!

This morning (or rather afternoon) I woke up with hopes that I’d be receiving my housing assignment from Columbia. They never told us a specific date other than “Late-June” but I just had a hunch since the housing website said that they were undergoing “updates” until today.

But instead I received a very disappointing email from Columbia Housing:

We know that you are anxious to get your housing assignment. Know that we are working on it and will be in touch with you by mid-July.

Great. Thanks. I’ll wait 15 more days for you to get your shit together.

JK Columbia Housing ILU (and hope you give me my first choice!)!!

But even more stressful than waiting for my housing info is waiting on Emma Watson!

Before last week I had learned to cope with the fact that Emma was going to Brown– but then came JustJared who said he had “proof” that she was actually coming to Columbia. The proof? A listing in the student directory under “Charlotte E. Watson”, Charlotte being her middle name. Obviously, I was ecstatic.

My hopes reborn, I went to Bwog.net, the coolest, meanest (and only?) Columbia blog, to confirm my dream. But some bitch of a student had to go and prove JustJared wrong. Apparently on LinkedIn there is a real Charlotte E. Watson who went to Columbia.

But now that my hopes have been reborn, I can’t just let them die again! I won’t believe she’s not coming to Columbia until she says she’s not!

So I’ve been checking her official website more than is normal and healthy. The main page hasn’t even been updated since Christmas.

(side note: did you know that Emma is 19?? Why is she so frickin’ old?)

So please, I’m begging someone reliable! I NEED to know if there is a possibility that Emma Watson will be living on my floor or not!

In preparation, I’ve already brainstormed some options for what to say when I first meet her. She’s asked for some anonymity to live out a normal college experience, so keep that in mind.

  1. “Hi, I’m Josh… and you are?” This will make her think that I have no idea who she is! Of course the danger is, is that she’ll find out after we become best friends that I lied about not recognizing her.
  2. “Hey, I’m Josh! I totally recognize you but I’ll let you introduce yourself so that you can feel like a normal person!” Not the strongest option, but maybe she’d chuckle?
  3. “Hi, I’m Josh! I sit next to you in Lit Hum!” This one will only work if I sit next to her in Lit Hum. And if we aren’t in Lit Hum when I talk to her.
  4. “Hi, I’m Josh… have you made any friends, because I sure haven’t and I’m desperate!” This one’s just honest.
  5. “Hi, I’m Josh! I hear you speak French?” This is also a lie– I KNOW she speaks French.
  6. “I’m Josh, want a beer?” This is probably my best bet to actually talking to her. Hopefully I’ll have a beer lying around.
  7. “It’s really nice to meet you! What’s it like to go to Hogwarts? I honestly waited by my fireplace for a month after I turned eleven for my letter… It never came.” Once again, honesty, pure and simple.
  8. “Hi, I’m Josh! Don’t worry about being bothered by people all the time– that’s what James Franco’s for.” That’s pretty funny right?
  9. “Hi, I’m Josh! I’ll be your friend only if you’re interesting.” Straightforward and real.
  10. “Hi, I’m… oh.” That’s me attempting to say hello, but then watching her walk away, pretending not to see me.

So which one’s your favorite? Do you have any other suggestions for me?

–Josh

An Open Letter to Jesus

Dear Jesus,

What are you doing? Why are you so angry? Why have you ended the lives of Ed MacMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, and Billy Mays in less than a week?

Listen, Jesus. I’m already stressed enough trying to put on three musicals over the summer, and now I have to constantly worry about which celebrity is going to die next!

Celebrity deaths are more stressful than the deaths of normal, boring people, because you have to read about them on every website you visit and every paper you open. There are countless VH1 retrospectives and E! Breaking News reports. When a normal person dies, you just get a phone call and then it’s over. Whatever.

So, Jesus, I’d really appreciate it if you could hold off for awhile on making celebrities die. I’d really appreciate it.

I’ll be honest, Jeezy, this is why I pray to Britney Spears instead of you. She’s a lot more loving.

Sincerley,

Elaine

I woke up this morning and I was scared.

This morning I woke up and now I am convinced that something is wrong about today. Let me tell you why.

This morning I woke up to the harsh sound of sprinklers. This is not a sound I usually hear when I wake up (during the summer) since we do not usually have the sprinklers on at 12:37PM, my favorite wakey-wakey time.

Confused, I glanced at my cheap IKEA wall clock– WTF?? 6:35????

Obviously this must be a mistake! I can’t be awake at 6:35AM! Shit, these cheap clocks always run out of batteries… maybe it just lost power at 6:35.

I’ll stare at the second hand to see if it moves…

Fuck it moved.

I still don’t believe it. Let me check my cell phone… 6:34AM?!! That’s only a minute earlier, but a minute of much needed beauty rest.

Okay, okay, calm yourself. I’ll just close my eyes and go back to bed until 12:37…

But now I’ve moved and can’t find that comfortable spot on the bed… and why are the sprinklers so fucking loud?

Okay, that felt like 6 hours and 3 minutes. What time is it now?

SIX FIFTY-FOUR A.M.? (That’s 6:54AM for you illiterate folk)

Fuck this, I want orange juice. Too bad we haven’t had juice for weeks (Elaine and Forrest can confirm this fact).

It shouldn’t be this easy to get out of bed this early. That’s just not right. Holy shit… am I the first one up in the whole house? Or did everyone just… disappear? I thought that parents were always awake before children. Maybe they’re all hiding downstairs… still no one.

Maybe they’re hiding in the fridge– OH MY GOD. Is that orange juice? Yes… I believe that is Naked Orange Juice.

Jeez, Britney Jean Spears is really on my side today.

I really feel like doing a crossword puzzle… too bad they don’t have any in the Sunday paper. I guess I’ll get the paper for the rest of the family though…

Jesus this paper if fat… okay put all the ads over there… what’s this? Obituaries? Aww look, there’s one for Farrah. I wonder if there’s a giant one for Michael? I’ll just turn the page– WTF???!!

HAVE THEY ALWAYS HAD CROSSWORD PUZZLES THERE?

My whole life I have looked for Sunday puzzles in the classifieds section.

Jesus, God just loves me today.

–The End–

Now that the story is over, I’ll tell you why Jesus loves me. Yesterday, I was due at a birthday party at La Jolla Shores around noon, aka the busiest time at the most touristy beach in San Diego. After getting off the 52, I was low on gas, stuck in backed-up traffic, and dreading the parking nightmare I was going to have to face after I filled up. A friend already told me that they had spent 25 minutes finding parking and that didn’t seem very appealing.

When I got to the station I looked at the price on the button and it was $3.375– “shit, gas has gotten really expensive!” I thought.

I started filling up and looked around the station– you know, what you do at the station when you have no one to talk to. Then I looked back at the pump…

“FUCK! THAT’S NOT THE UNLEADED GAS BUTTON!”

But by then it was too late. I had filled up on Super when my ’97 Toyota only takes Unleaded. On top of that, I paid 38 more cents per gallon for it. The gas cap door said in giant bold letters, “UNLEADED FUEL ONLY”, and not knowing what the consequences of using non-unleaded fuel, I was afraid my car would explode.

I started the ignition… no explosion. But maybe it had to burn off the old fuel still left in the tank?

So then I began my quest for parking, in a car that could explode at any second. Obviously I wanted to find parking fast.

I spent 10 minutes in the surrounding streets because the parking lot looked full, but I gave up on that– no street parking whatsoever. So I dared to enter the parking lot. I didn’t find anything my first time around the lot, so I decided to go in for a second. The traffic was backed up all the down the aisles since people were stopping in the middle of the road, waiting for non-existant people to back out.

Desperate, scared, and lonely, I did something drastic.

I made a pact with Jesus.

I said, “Jesus, if you give me a parking spot, I’ll give you my life!”

Soon enough (it must’ve taken a minute or so for the message to get to Jeezy up in space), I saw lights come on from a car in a space.

“Oh my God, are they leaving??”

And lucky me, even though the aisle was backed up, I was in the perfect position to take the spot!

And that is why I sold my soul to Jesus and why I’ve been having such good luck today.

— Josh

COMING SOON TO THIS POST!

Forrest Lighthart’s account of a near death-situation that he put Josh, him, and myself in.

Story coming soon. (Well, as soon as Forrest writes it and emails it to one of us).

We’re asking Forrest to write this post himself instead of just writing it ourselves because only he could explain what was going on in his mind when he made this dangerous desicion.

Thank Britney Spears that we made it out alive.

CALLING ALL ACTORS AND SINGERS!

Dear Boshers,

I’m here to announce an exciting new opportunity for all of you!

Josh and Elaine want YOU, yes YOU talented folk, to audition for our new original musical, “BYE BYE BRITNEY”.

“Bye Bye Britney” is a musical inspired by “Bye Bye Birdie”, but modernized, dirtier, and set to the music of Britney Spears!

For more information visit our entire page dedicated to the audition notice!

Good luck and we hope to see you all at auditions July 6th!

Josh

Evil has a name and it is “Chili Peppers” [UPDATE]

Every once in a while, man encounters evil. It is only upon this encounter that man finally realizes the serious magnitude of evil.

Friends, family, and Boshers. I have encountered evil.

July 7th, according to this blog, marks the anniversary of Elaine and I’s discovery of Santana’s Mexican Grill. You could say July 7th is our Epiphany (which is an obscure Christian holiday that I only know about because it is celebrated in France by hiding a bean in a cake).

Not too long ago, Elaine, hartknight (this is not his exact real name), and I began a very mature facebook group called, “Santana’s is da SHIT!” in retaliation of another group’s proclamation that a local Mexican eatery called “Chili Peppers” was better than SMG.

Blasphemy. Pure blasphemy.

Unfortunately I had never actually eaten anything from this “Chili Peppers” place, so I wasn’t really fit to judge it.

That is why today (which is actually yesterday now that it is 1:35AM), Elaine and I decided that we were going to eat there.

We had been eyeing a rumored “popcorn chicken burrito” but saw no such thing on the menu. So I thought I would compare the California Burrito to SMG’s own famed California Burrito. How stupid was I? I should’ve taken little Jake Fineman’s touching testimonial to heart… this shocking  true story was left on the “Santana’s is the da SHIT!” wall:

“I have joined this group because I ate Chile Peppers last night and it gave me diarrhea, which has kind of turned me off.”

Poor little Jake Fineman.

My California Burrito was terrible. The tortilla wasn’t right. There was too much cheese and not enough tomato. The carne asada was dry and tasted and shredded apart like pork– which isn’t good since it’s supposed to be beef.

All was okay until about 6 hours later, when I started getting a mild upset stomach. I was over at hartknight’s house watching a movie and it didn’t bother me all night until I got home around 12:30AM. After a stool that felt like fire, I thought there was worse to come. Luckily, the burning shit was the worst of my condition… so far.

My stomach still does not feel completely right. I also had In-N-Out tonight, but I know it wasn’t it because my funny stomach started before I took a single bite of my burger.

I really am lucky for not getting diarrhea. Thank you Britney.

So please, PLEASE, do NOT eat at Chili Peppers! Don’t sell your stomach to the devil!

Here is my own little spell for casting away the Chili Pepper demons; use it well!

My stomach full of rotten burrito

Beseeches the elements of moon and water

To cast off the horror of rolled taquito

(even though taquito’s are really just small tacos in Spanish)

Calm stomach fire oh water!

Cool rectal burn oh moon!

And soothe the demons that I have bothered

By eating at Chili Peppers, a bafoon.

SO MOTE IT BE!

Just chant those words three times and any upset stomach or diarrhea you are experiencing because of Chili Peppers should go away!

Or you could just take some Pepto Bismol.

Be Wary!

Josh

P.S. Sorry this post was so graphic… Upton Sinclair didn’t leave out any details in The Jungle and look what it did for food safety.

UPDATE: I did get a little diarrhea last night. The waxing moon was not in my favor.

Summer Reading

I used to read all the time. In fourth grade me and only one other boy got to read The Chronicles of Narnia series while all the other kids had to read baby books because they were stupid.

In six grade I went through all of Peter Benchley’s graphic novels (and I don’t mean “graphic” as in comic books, I mean as in explicit violence, sex and cursing (which, in retrospect probably says a lot about me today, but I’m using this an an example of how much I used to read)).

In seventh grade I was all about the classics and read East of Eden and read and re-read The Red Pony.

In eighth grade I could only be bothered to do the required reading.

But once I got to high school…what was the point? The most I ever read at one time was an issue of CosmoGIRL! and sometimes even that had too many words. I think the only books that I read for pleasure throughout my high school career were Augusten Burroughs’ memoirs (albeit repeatedly. I think I’ve read them each three times). But intelectually, they’re not much of a stretch. And obviously, the required reading was way beyond anything I was willing to do.

But I’ve decided this summer that it’s time to start reading again. To quote the song that we were forced to learn in elementary school, “Reading is fun, and fundamental!”

So today I sat down with a book and ended up reading about 130 pages at once. And it felt pretty good. Granted, the book was Diablo Cody’s memoir about her life as a stripper, but still. It’s a bound set of typed pages which contain many words which form sentences. A bonafide book.

My original goal was to read three books this summer, one a month. But now that I’ve leanred that reading is fun (and fundamental!) I’m ready to read more.

Who wants to join my book club? So far I’ve got picked out Perfume: Story of Murderer (in hopes that the book is better than the already mind-blowing film), and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (to prepare for my life in Savannah, Georgia).

But before I get to the books with a slight amount of literally merit, I have to find out if Diablo will return to the classier strip bar, or if she’ll stay at the sleazier one, and if she’ll stay with Jonny. I still have a hundred pages left. I’ll finish it tomorrow.

Father’s Day Wishes

Today in America we are celebrating Father’s Day. A “holiday” in which you honor the paternal figures in your lives, and more specifically, the man whose sperm helped create you.

But what about those men who never had children? Here’s the guys who I wish were daddy’s, because their children would bring sunshine to the world:

1) Elton John

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Really I’m only thinking of the child here. Can you imagine the incredible life that he or she would lead? Spoiled wouldn’t even begin to cover it. Diamond encrusted pacifiers, designer baby clothes, and mandatory music lessons from eighteen months on. He or she would be over-educated about art and, would get to live in the nicest houses. And when daddy Elton was off making music and daddy David was off making documentaries, baby John-Furnish would surely have the most accommodating nannies.

2) John Waters

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This child would end up in two ways: a) completely deranged and the leader of some underground movement, or b) shy and mortified of everything, rarely leaving his room. What would this child think when he inherited all of John’s bizarre modern art (and John’s own art) and other strange collections? And how could would you react to knowing that your own father had the brilliant idea of having a three hundred point drag queen consume dog feces for the grand finale of the most disgusting movie ever made? Enthralling to the rest of the freaks of the world, his own spawn would more than likely be horrified. While the child would have an awkward adolescence, it would be sad for John Waters to leave the world without an heir to his throne of filth.

3) Tim Curry

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This is mainly for the selfish reason that this would be a good looking addition to the world. Obviously, the child must be raised in England to inherit Tim’s sexy accent. The child would also have to take acting lessons, but would constantly be competing with his dad’s Rocky Horror persona. Eventually, he would become frustrated and would become a staunch-y, pundit on some conservative cable network. Tim would be disappointed, but in his heart he would understand and would allow his child space. Finally, the child would apologize for his callow and jealous ways, and he and Tim would sing a beautiful duet of “I’m Going Home”, among other songs, in their dazzling two-man Broadway show, Curry & Son.

4) Jay-Z

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Only because his wife, Beyoncé, would make a fierce line of maternity wear and she would be a sassy mommy.

I… was invited… to a real… RAGER!!!

Today marks a glorious day.

Not only is this my first blog post in approximately 2 months, I have reached the pinnacle of my high school social career… after high school ended.

Yes that’s right folks, I, Joshua Lin, was invited to a real life, let’s get shit-faced, down and dirty rager.

Of course, I didn’t actually go. But that’s beside the point.

The point is, is that I was invited! Or at least a close friend was (most likely accidentally) invited via text message and I begged him to forward me the text.

It went something like this:

“Rager at wallace’s tonight at six, invite everyone BYOB –Raquel”**

**names have been changed to protect identities.

Okay, so everyone was invited, but it’s not like everyone at SRHS got the text. Thus, this makes me a more popular “everyone”.

I wish I had gone, but I was having a lot of fun playing “Truth or Dare Jenga” which is a lot cooler than it sounds, trust me.

For those of you not used to Scripps Ranch/Southern Californian teenager jargon, here is a brief description of Scripps Ranch party terms as I have been taught (Britney knows that I’ve never experienced any of these first hand).

Rager (RUI-jer); (noun):

  1. A wild house party, usually when someone’s parents are away. Delicate antiques and items will be broken if not properly stored and the host should expect to clean up a considerable amount of vomit. These events are usually BYOB to maximaze alcohol supply, unless the host is filthy rich. Traditional frat games go on, the most famous being beer pong, and dancing is attempted, but usually people end up too drunk to do much else but remove articles of clothing and get frisky. Substances other than alcohol may be present, usually marijuana. These events traditionally take place at night.
  2. Other forms and variants: “rage” (verb form, “raged” past participle), “dayger” (noun, meaning a rager that takes place in the middle of the day)
  3. WARNING: people have been known to have been raped or physically harmed during ragers.

Kickback (KIK-bahk); (noun):

  1. A tame party under the influence of alcohol. The host and guests do not get shit-faced, instead they have a couple beers and just sit around. This is what adults could relate to a civilized office party. Hopefully for the guests, the alcohol is supplied, or else the host is just downright cheap. Not much else besides talking and sitting goes on at these events.
  2. Other forms or variants: a kickback may not exclusively involve alcohol and may also include substances such as marijuana, hooka, and cocaine (for cheerleaders).

DP (DEE-pee); (noun):

  1. An abbreviation for “dance party”.  A DP is a moderate house party that involves alcohol but actually focuses on dancing and music in a dark room. Presumably, dancing occurs at such events but really it is just a rhythmic disguise for sex. These parties, or at least the better ones, are cleverly themed in such a way that females can arrive in a slutty costume and still be socially acceptable. Previous examples include “CEO’s and Business Hoes” and “Anything But Clothes”. These themes are usually stolen from the best college party ideas. Any and all substances may be used at such parties.
  2. WARNING: often times, these parties will escalate to ragers, thus making the two terms indiscernible from each other.

Mad (mah-d); (adjective):

  1. used to describe any rager or DP that is extremely wild. A major criterion is whether or not people remember what happened at the party the morning after. If they do, the party was not mad.

Now that you are armed with a new arsenal of party words, go out there and give it a shot! Now that I’m finally being invited, I know I sure will!

HAPPY RAGING!

Love,

Josh

P.S. Keep an eye out for a new designated driver service in Scripps Ranch!

Good Bad Movies and Bad Bad Movies

Last night a friend invited Josh and I to her house to watch a movie. Since we were nearby, we visted one of those magical Red Box things outside grocery stores where you can rent a DVD for one dolla. They had a really broad selection, everything from Milk to never-seen-the-light-of-day shitty horror movies.

We decided on a movie that displayed a picture of a nearly naked lady holding two guns. It was called Stiletto and the description used the word “sexy” twice. You can’t go wrong with that.

We knew that it would be bad. But I don’t have a problem with that. I love bad movies. Too much (remember the Showgirls party?). However, it became apparent around fifteen minutes into the movie that Stiletto was unfortunately not a good bad movie, but a bad bad movie.

And the difference you ask, between a good bad movie and a bad bad movie? Well, let me begin my thesis here:

First of all, let me say that budget has nothing to do with it. Stiletto was clearly made for under a million with a rented camera, and it sucked. Showgirls was made for $45,000,000 and is arguably the worst movie ever made. But it’s also one of the most entertaining, memorable and life-affirming films of the twentieth century.

A good bad movie must take itself completely seriously. It must not be in on the joke and must be made with Oscar-winning intentions. For instance, the film Powder about an albino teenager with mystical powers.Or Obsessed starring Beyoncé Knowles.

A bad bad movie understands its limitations. Like all of John Waters’ movies.

A good bad movie also must have an element of bizarre-ness that pushes it over-the-top. Like Mommie Dearest, or one of my personal favorites, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. Because a movie like Stiletto, which tries to be very  realistic just comes across as boring when it doesn’t have the budget or the means to be done well. But when you have an insane transsexual murdering with a samurai sword, well,  that’s just so in another world that any ties to reality are unimportant.

In the end, there’s nothing better than a good bad movie. And the only thing that’s worse than a bad bad movie is a good good movie. Fucking Oscar winners. I would rather have a tattoo sanded off my arm with a belt sander than watch Titanic*. Even the best Oscar winner of all times, The Silence of the Lambs, has some elements of good bad movie-making in it.

So, sorry Stiletto. You are in the awkward place of sucking so bad that you’re neither entertaining nor slightly compelling. Your future lies at the bottom of the Cheap DVD bin at Wal-mart. Right next to Kill Cruise starring Elizabeth Hurley.

*I really would not. That is an exaggeration and a reference to the film Stiletto.

Passing the Torch

Thankfully, Josh and I have finished our careers Scripps Ranch High School. I know that I am speaking for both of us when I say that we are glad to put these four years behind us.

But what about SRHS itself? A giant gap will be left in the atmosphere. How will the school function without Josh and Elaine? Will it just shut down?

Who will keep the social scene alive by throwing wild parties? Who will introduce weird/unpopular trends like Britney Spears, Tim Curry and Nomi Malone to the masses? Who will impress their peers by having enough matching t-shirts to last a month?

Luckily for those who have to endure more painful years in high school, we have found a solution. We can’t reveal their names yet (because they don’t know of our evil plan) but we have found a pair of freshman besties who we feel can fill the gaping hole that we will leave behind.

But what will they have to do to keep the spirit of Josh and Elaine alive at SRHS? Here are some suggestions:

  1. During lunch when there are big groups of people talking and laughing together, stand in the corner and only talk to each other
  2. Be able to create a language of references and inside jokes so that eavesdroppers will not be able to understand what you are saying
  3. Start a million overly ambitions projects at once and don’t finish any of them
  4. Ruin lives (or at least a life)
  5. Find the weirdest possible movie or celebrity and become obsessed with it/him/her
  6. Change your names to symbols
  7. Get rejected/waitlisted from your top choice college
  8. Flirt with others, making them think that they have a chance of becoming a third best friend, but eventually scare them away
  9. Be as socially anti-social as possible
  10. Have people know you as a description like, “those funny kids from yearbook”, but not by name
  11. Have people associate you with something to the point that is is impossible for them to separate you from it (i.e., Britney Spears)
  12. Start a “thriving” business

Anything else?

Goodbye Wicked Little Town

Today was graduation rehearsal, and therfore marked the last time that is is necessary for me to be on the Scripps Ranch High School campus.

It’s very surreal to be coming to the end of these four years, and I wish I could say that is was absolute Hell, but to be honest…it wasn’t really. I wasn’t tortured, I didn’t have any issues with grades and for the most part, everything was pretty mellow with no big upsets or drama. Well, maybe a little drama. But not enough to make me jump off the second story or anything.

To sum up high school, it was pretty uneventful. I’ve heard too many times that “high school is the best four years of your life” but I know for a fact that that’s not true.

Senior year was obviously the best, though. I wish that I had the friends that I have now all through high school. And I wish that I hadn’t wasted time with people who I didn’t really like, or shoudn’t have really liked. I finally found a group of people (and a group! Not just Josh!) that I totally love being with…and now it’s time to leave. But I guess that that’s what the end of high school is about, too. Getting ready to be independent.

It’s hard to say if I’ll ever be close to the people again. We’re all going to such different places…New York, Savannah, Boston, Los Angeles, D.C….the list goes on and on. But I really hope that we’ll be able to keep in touch and at least check in with each other about what’s going on and visit when we can. To be honest, I’m pretty muhfuckin scared to move to Savannah, Georgia all myself. But at the same time, I feel ready. Because Scripps Ranch ain’t the spot. And I’m ready to go on to bigger and better things.

Goodbye, Scripps Ranch High School. Thanks for…thanks for what? Thanks for giving me the chance to meet some good people. Thanks for the diploma. And thanks for being over.

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Contact Elaine and Josh!

Want to say something to us? Don't feel like you can post a comment? No problem! You can get in contact with us here.

Elaine and Josh:

jepartyservice@gmail.com

Elaine:

elgray21@student.scad.edu

Josh:

jl3456@columbia.edu