Archive for the 'By Josh' Category

My night in music.

So last night we had a really fun night (or at least I vaguely remember we did) all thanks to our good friend Daniel. Here was our night in music.

The beginning of the night, at the community park with hartknight and Julia, just before Daniel and Elaine were about to come:

(Of course there are several versions of this song, but this one is the best!)

A bit later, cruising around Scripps Ranch and Mira Mesa for a good place to chill.

After initial difficulties, and multiple failures, all hope is nearly lost. We are at the park, but failures. Only our prayers keep our hopes alive.

An hour later: We’re almost there, still at the park… almost ready…

A few minutes later: SUCCESS!

Later, in front of Sombrero’s, my mother calls me and I pick up… I’m sure you’ve seen this video a million times by now.

Finally, I go home because my mommy wants me to, I facebook some, and I go to bed…

This morning, I wake up and I’m not really sure what happened.

And that’s everything in a nutshell!

The Pursuit of Happiness

So here I am, 3AM, sitting in my bed, and blogging from my phone (because my roommate is asleep and I don’t want to wake him with loud tapping on the keyboard). And at this very moment, although my night was somewhat a failure, I can honestly say I am very content with what I do have.

You see, not too long ago I told some of my friends that my goal for the semester was to get insanely drunk and wake up in some strange girl’s bed (hopefully strange in the sense that I don’t know her, not in the sense that she’s just bizarre). Of course I was mostly kidding– there are so many issues that stem from drunken one night stands: STDs, awkwardness, rape, pregnancy scares, etc. Trust me, I know. But there was still a little part of me that did want it. The “hook-up” is arguably the most popular form of relationship on campus (or at least the most public). In fact, hook-ups are almost the defining characteristic of any college’s social scene.

So why wouldn’t I want what was considered normal? I came to college with the expectation that I’d be going to crazy, themed frat parties, meeting random people and hooking up with them, if sobreity was no longer a hinderance.

I was disappointed on all counts. It was this elusive lifestyle that I wanted so much but found I never could fit into. I’m nothing like the guys at the frats with the girls crawling over them for the free booze and company. I don’t even mean that in a condescending way. We really are just different.

But today was the first weekend of the new semester, and it’s the beginning of a new decade. Now is the perfect time to change. Right?

This whole week I was looking forward to the parties tonight. It was going to be my first step into normalcy, the first time I would feel like I belonged to something. Plus recently I’d been hearing Kid Cudi’s “Pursuit of Happiness” playing on TV…

My pursuit of happiness was the ideal, somewhat steretypical college life fueled by alcohol, sex, and social ambition. I have friends who’ve accomplished it and are truly happy in college right now. Why couldn’t I fins my way in? I blamed my failure on everything but myself– the frat parties were too lame, the other guys were just more fit and attractive and the girls too shallow, I had not met the right people yet, I didn’t have anyone to really party with, the people in my dorm would never accomodate that lifestyle, and the list goes on.

But this time it would be different. This time I would stay at the party until I met new people. I would get drunk and just enjoy life. Just like in the Kid Cudi video.

Unsurprisingly, I was disappointed yet again. Unlike the Kid Cudi music video, I wasn’t drinking fancy champagne, I was drinking a mysterious blue concoction and I also didn’t have any room to dance and jump around. In fact, it was so packed, it was hard to simultaneously move and breathe. Although I was sprayed by various liquids, it wasn’t in the good spirits of popped champagne– people just kept on bumping into me and spilling their drinks.

After about 45 minutes of that, my friends and I immediately decided to leave. We tried to get into another frat party but there was no more space left inside and a crowd was building on the stoop. Out of options, we decided to go to the school-run late night eatery. There we ate fries, chips and an abandoned, unopened soda while playing Taboo. It wasn’t at all what we had planned for the night. But I had a legitimately good time, and I wasn’t even buzzed by that point (a cup of blue stuff and a beer wouldn’t last me even an hour).

Now that I’m back in the comfort of my bed, I’ve come to realize just what the destination of my pursuit of happiness is. I don’t think I’ll strive anymore to meet every person in the school, or to be able to walk around campus giving “what’s up man?”‘s to the thousands of guys I’m buddies with.

At home, in high school, and, now I’ve finally realized, here in New York, I only need a few friends, board games, and a little (or a lot of) alcohol to go around to have happiness.

But if any girls are willing, I wouldn’t mind trying the “hook-up” thing. Afterall, you don’t know until you’ve tried!

Deadly Illusions, Installment Two

By popular demand, here is the next installment of Josh’s soap operature, Deadly Illusions.

Read Installment One first!

May 10, 2005

Now we leave Terry and Klein to discover Terry’s daughter, Debby, and her stay at Yale University.

As Debby laid in bed, she pondered about all the work she had to finish. Oh crap. I have a final today. Why didn’t I study? Why didn’t I drink that 12 pack of Red Bulls? Why did I have to go to that party and get raped and wasted at the same time?

“Some party last night huh?” said Brad, lying naked under the covers with her. Debby knew she had known her rapist, but she never knew he would be that recognizable.

“Yeah, I had a great time,” Debby said as she edged closer and closer to Brad, “but between getting stoned and being raped I forgot what happened. Could you remind me?” Debby edged closer and closer and ran her fingers down his hairy chest-


As Debby woke up from her slumber, all she could hear was a persistent ringing and a white surface that smelled like stale yogurt on a summer day in the end of July. She soon found that the ringing noise was her alarm clock and the white surface was her textbook. What time is it? she thought. It was 7:30. Oh sh*t! My final is at 7:45! I’ll never make it in time!

Once again Debby had bought the 12 pack of Red Bulls and pulled an all nighter to study for her Philosophy final. But if Debby did not make it into that classroom by 7:45, she would automatically fail her class. In a hurry, Debby changed into presentable clothes and fixed her hair. 7:50! Oh crap, i’ll never make it.

Debby raced to her class, but it all seemed like a blur. She got to the classroom at 7:44 and she walked into the classroom, sweating and tired, yet ready to take the test. During the test, she felt a sudden urge to puke. It’s just the nerves Debby! I’ve been waiting so long to take this test, I can’t ruin it! Despite her attempts to hold back the vomit, Debby vomited all over the desk and floor, ruining her test, and the unfortunate person who was sitting next to her’s pair of jeans. Great. I got an F.

“Looks like somebody got an F!” said the professor as he joked around with the class. “Anyone want to take her to the nurse? No? Eh. We’ll just leave her there for the next 5 hours.”

5 hours later…

Debby walked out of the room sick and dazed. She had vomited 6 times after her first spell. “Thanks for all the help Professor Lockwood.”
“No problem Debby. Before you go, can I tell you something?”
“Lock the door first Debby.”
“I said LOCK IT BITCH! IF YOU DON’T I’M GOING TO F*CKING EXECUTE EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!” In horror, Debby screamed. Great am I going to get raped? I really can’t deal with getting raped right now, especially now that Jangles, my pet Chihuahua, has run away.
“Sorry! Did I scare you? Its a line from Pulp Fiction. Really good movie.”
“Oh, for a minute there I was happy.”
“Don’t ask.”
“Ok… well I um. Just wanted to talk to you about last night. I just want to assure you that you will pass this class no matter what. That is, unless you tell people.”
“Just because I gave you a foot massage?”
“No, not that,, a few weeks ago.”
Debby could remember it all now. She was at a party, and Professor Lockwood was there. He offered her a drink. And then she had passed out. When she woke up she was in his classroom, naked, without panties. She never knew what had happened.
“Debby, don’t worry about what happened to you last night.”
“What happened to me last night?”
“You were raped.”
“By who?”
“By someone who I hired to rape you. Jesus! You should stop smoking pot. It’s really hurting your memory.”
“I was raped again?”
“I knew I had gotten you pregnant, so I hired someone else to rape you so that the baby couldn’t be traced back to me.”
“What? That makes absolutely no sense.”
“Shut up! This is a soap opera, it never does, but you never say it.”
“Oh sorry.”
“It’s fine. Do you want a drink?”

Dazed, Debby went back to her apartment and thought about what had just happened. I’m pregnant? I was raped 3 times? Wait. Three? Once by Professor Lockwood, once by Professor Lockwood’s hired rapist. I know there was a third. But who?

At that second, her mom called, wanting to check in.
“How did your final go?”
“Fine, I guess. I vomited, but I still got an A.”
“Did you drink milk before you went like I told you?”
“Yes mom…”

And then she remembered. She had gone to her parent’s home for the weekend and she was raped. By the milkman!

“Debby? Honey? Is there anything wrong?”
“No mom, nothing at all.”


“Showgirls: The Musical” and the Fan Base to Rival Them All.

Elaine texted me this morning that the new revival of “Bye Bye Birdie” was closing earlier than expected– at first I was sad, but then I decided to do some research of my own.

Turns out, “Bye Bye Biridie” is for sure closing on January 24th– but that’s actually 2 weeks after the original closing date. Plus, there’s really no reason for the show to go on past that since John and Gina (that is Stamos and Gershon respectively) will both be leaving the cast on January 24th, regardless of whether the show continues or not.

So that minor tribulation was over, but thinking about “Bye Bye Birdie” led me to think about Gina Gershon, who naturally led me to ponder the cinematic masterpiece “Showgirls”.

At the same time, I was also contemplating my future (“Showgirls” opens the door to deep, insightful thought) and I decided that I would become famous for writing “Showgirls: The Musical”. Obviously, the fan base is crazy enough that they would all need to see it (a blog post explaining why the “Showgirls” fan base is the craziest in the world, second only to Britney Spears’, will be coming soon).

I tried finding any recent info on the previous reported plans for an official “Showgirls” musical but the only really official thing I could find was from 2006… that’s 3 years ago. However, I did find this blog post referencing the project from 2008 and I thought you might enjoy it:

Gina lists her “Top 5 movies that star Gina Gershon”, but amazingly, “Showgirls” isn’t one of them!

Sorry for the small digression– back to my future and writing “Showgirls: The Musical”…

Can I just assume that “Showgirls:The Musical” has died and that I can start my own version? Of course, once I finish it, I’ll mail it to Joe Eszterhas for a look and once he emphatically loves it, he’ll push the studio to help me out. However, he originally had the people behind “Urinetown” working for him, which is actually legit, so maybe I should try other pursuits?

I’m conflicted.

Short Short Story Genius

I found this gem of a short short story on a blog I have to peruse through for my work-study job and I thought I’d share it with you guys because it’s so fucking awesome:

Bedtime Story by Jeffrey Whitmore

“Careful, honey, it’s loaded,” he said, re-entering the bedroom.
Her back rested against the headboard. “This for your wife?”
“No, too chancy. I’m hiring a professional.”
“How about me?”
He smirked. “Cute. But who’d be dumb enough to hire a lady hit man?”
She wet her lips, sighting along the barrel.
“Your wife.”

That’s only 53 words long and though it’s short, it’s still a captivating story– I envision the characters in a smokey motel room somewhere in the Midwest (where rifles are more commonplace). The man has just had sex with this attractive woman he just met. Who cares if his wife thinks he’s out with the guys? He walks back in from the bathroom, they exchange these few lines and bang– he’s dead and his wife is avenged. Perhaps my favorite character in this short, short story is the one that never speaks– the wife. Imagine how cunning, jealous and evil she must be! But is she justified in killing her husband?

I know this has nothing to do with Britney Spears or the fact that it started snowing here today in New York, but I just really loved that story. Bravo Jeffrey Whitmore, even if I don’t know who you are.

AUSTRALIA: The Land Down Under HELL

About a year ago from today, Elaine and Josh hosted a fabulous “Showgirls” themed party that was complete with a living room stylized as a stripper bar and an adjacent room for special “private” dances. Coincidentally, many of our friends were hosting Australian exchange students through an exchange program run through our school, so we thought it would be fun for everyone if we invited our friends and their Aussies. However, the success of this party was hampered by none other than those of Australian birth.

Now, I’m not racist– I mean, we cordially invited them as guests to our party– but WTF is wrong is Australians these days? I mean they were wonderful in creating beautiful, popular people like Nicole Kidman and Russell Crowe (and we all know even he has quite the temper), but what went wrong with the rest of this forsaken continent?

I turn your attention to this very disturbing article:


That’s right folks. Australians, blessed with the opportunity to see Britney Spears live, actually physically left the venue demanding for their money back?!! Not only is this sacrilege, it’s also just plain stupid– they didn’t get to see Brit flying through the air during “Breathe on Me”!

They did the same thing to us at our “Showgirls” party, and now they’ve done it again to Britney Spears. Why can’t Australians ever stay at events they promise to attend? It’s obvious that Australians don’t understand or appreciate the beauty of beings like Britney Spears and Nomi Malone.

It’s worth mentioning that the people who left were in the cheap nosebleed seats and were probably old heffers. But they were also Australian, and I think this says more than any of the other descriptions.

So Boshers, next time you encounter an Australian, be wary. They might literally be from Down Under the Earth in the realms of Hell.

P.S. HOWEVER, all the Aussie Brit fans who loved the Perth concert– you are pardoned, and I hope you to stay strong amongst your ignorant neighbors!

Britney Bless One and All,


The New Acronym that Will Rival “WTF” and “FML”

Hi everyone,

I just wanted to quickly write this post to document for humanity the birth of the acronym that will soon rock the internet, popular culture and facebook statuses. This acronym was created solely by me (Josh) and I just wanted to make a clear record of the date and time I invented this acronym so that I can say, “hey, you that one acronym? I invented it, and here’s proof, BITCH.” I really hope it takes off and becomes as widely used as LOL, OMG, and OMFG, but you know, that’s is all wishful thinking because it’d be hard to become as prolific as those idol acronyms.

The acronym is: HFS


Pronunciation in conversation: Simply “H. F. S.” or the cuter “Hiffs!”

Example usage:

  1. To preface a statement, indicating it’s emphatic nature. “HFS, why’d you eat all the chips Nomi!”
  2. To punctuate an already emphatic statement, escalating emphasis. “Britney Spears touched my hand!!! HFS!!!” (Note: in these cases, “HFS” is almost always pronounced “H. F. S.” with emphasis placed on each individual letter for dramatic effect.)

I’d also like to use this opportunity to preview another acronym for you guys– let me know what you think!

The acronym is: GTS

Short for: “Giggles to self”

Pronunciation in conversation: Almost always pronounced as a single word, “gits”.

Example usage:

  1. A diminutive form of “LOL”, used when something was pretty funny, but not really funny enough to make you laugh out loud. This is more honest and frank than “LOL” most of the time, while at the same time is still complimentary and not too mean. Example: “haha gts.” (Note: due to it’s unemphatic nature, “GTS” is rarely followed by exclamation points.)

Because a post is long overdue…

Hey Boshers,

Who knew college was so hard? But now that I’ve finally finished my last midterm of the week (I still have another midterm and two papers due next week and I also have an 9AM class tomorrow, but WTH, I feel like writing today!), I have time to come to Bosh and let you know about my life in Harlem.

I guess these first 8 weeks or so have been tough for me to blog because I’ve been feeling generally uninspired to do anything– uninspired to write, join clubs, get a job, eat decent meals, exercise, sing, draw, compose music, doodle, and at times even uninspired to do homework. But for some reason, this week I feel on top of everything (most likely because of my discovery of the beauty of Google Calendars) and I’ll be starting work soon hopefully and everything will be on track. In fact, today, I thought of two songs I wanted to do vocal arrangements for (in addition to Britney’s discography), recommenced work on the “Showgirls: The Opera” libretto, mulled a theme in my mind for a potential play, and I even finished all my homework according to my schedule.

I guess it could be described as beautiful.

Of course, I’m not going to finish any of those things, but the fact that I’m thinking about them again is promising. And better yet, I don’t have class tomorrow evening like I always do, so this is going to be a relaxing Thursday!

Since I’ve been gone for so long, I have no idea where I’m going with this post… there are so many things I want to talk about but they all require their own posts and I don’t think I have the stamina to write 20 posts in one night. So I’ll focus on what I did just two nights ago, Monday, a little more than 48 hours ago.

The day started off pretty bland. I sat in my room and did homework. I’m pretty sure I ate EasyMac for breakfast and Cup Noodle for lunch.

But that night, after doing extensive research, I decided to go down to the Village near NYU (I am really jealous of their area) for a haircut. All of the SuperCuts in the City had gotten bad reviews on Yelp and Citysearch and I found this local place called “Astor Place Barbershop”. Plus, I was planning on going down there for a book signing that Augusten Burroughs was doing at a nearby Barnes & Noble.

The barbershop was so ghetto that I walked right past it the first time. There wasn’t even a store front– there was just a sign on the side of a bank that said to go down these wide stairs for the barbershop. I walked down the stairs, and I saw on the door that they had a karaoke bar. That’s really strange for a barbershop. After opening the door, I was greeted by a huge basement barbershop that almost seemed to inhabit the entire underground of the city. I was directed somewhere to the left and straight into the chair of a woman named Suzy. I told her what I wanted and she was done within 10 minutes. However, I wasn’t specific enough and she gave me a slightly different hairstyle, but I’ve been subconsciously wanting to try something new, so maybe Suzy was just reading my subconscious. The whole shebang only cost me $15 and I tipped Suzy $5. It was fucking glorious.

After my cut, I met up with the friend I had come down to the Village with (she wanted to meet up with a high school friend) and the three of us walked the 6 blocks up to Union Square. Nothing really too impressive about the square itself except for all the people and the good shopping surrounding it. We walked into the Barnes & Noble, which was really unassuming from the front, but it turns out that it’s 4 stories and massive. When we got to the 4th level where Augusten was supposed to be reading and signing, it was already packed. There were perhaps 100 people seated in the front, and then another 100 that were forced to stand in the back. Not a bad audience huh Mr. Burroughs?

He read an excerpt of his new book “You Better Not Cry” and at the end even answered some questions. For you Burroughs fans (which is really just Elaine), he revealed that “Dry” has been optioned to become a TV series! I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. Someone also asked him what his next book was about, but he couldn’t tell us. He did confirm that it was already in the works and mostly finished. He even has another book in progress but he said that that one will most likely be shitty.

We had to wait in a long-ass line after the reading to get our books signed and we ended up waiting 3 hours. But it was worth it I guess since when I told him that my name wasn’t Elaine (they had written down our dedication names on post-its before going up to him to speed up the whole process) he sassily retorted, “I know!”. And then when I told him that Elaine was the person who introduced me to his work and that she’s read every single book of his several times (both are true), he said, “well that’s awesome, I really hope she enjoys it!”.

Well here is the photo that is the culmination of all these events:

Augusten and Josh

Augusten and Josh-- new besties.

Notice the haircut, the author, and the autograph book.

I’d say it was a night well spent.

My First College Party!

College is so exciting!

Today I was browsing my “Furnald ’09/’10” Facebook group (you know, the one for all the Columbia freshmen and sophomores who are living in the nicest residence hall on campus– Furnald) and I found a mysterious link posted on the wall. Naturally, I clicked it, and lo and behold! My first college party!

The genius living in Room 420 is already planning a party for the first week-end of school! I’m sure the other residence halls have something like this planned but they call Furnald the “anti-social” dorm so it was really comforting to see the invite. Will I have friends afterall?

My only concern is that there are already 15 confirmed guests (I’m just a maybe, just in case I meet these people and don’t like them) and I’m pretty sure 420 is a single… so how are we going to fit a possible 20+ person party in a 120 sq ft. dorm (not to mention all the space the furnishings take)? I guess that’s all part of the experience.

I’ve also never done pot and since the event photo is a giant marijuana leaf, maybe I’ll get to try something new!

There’s a first time for everything right?

Except coke. I promised my nostrils I would never do coke.

I’m really sorry for this post.

So I apologize in advance for writing this because here on Bosh we have an unwritten law that says we’ll never talk about anything serious (outside of the realm of Britney Spears’ vagina) and I’m warning you, I’m about to drop a really serious word. But don’t worry, I promise you there’s something frivolous awaiting. Here’s the serious word:


Oh God. I said it.

For some reason, I was on the “STOP ABORTION” cause message boards on Facebook when I found a really interesting topic called “Exceptions to Abortion”. Of course the die hard Pro-Lifers were really ragging on this poor woman who was conflicted and didn’t really know if she was Pro-Life or Pro-Choice because she believed in both. So I read through a couple of them and of course I read some really ridiculous posts, but this one was so ridiculous that no one even acknowledged her in any of the future posts. For context, this post was in response to the poor woman proposing that there be an exception for young girls, those as young as the age of 12, who are physically and emotionally incapable of raising children. So here it is, word-for-word, with some commentary by me at the end.

Parents give there children the tools they need to handle any situation. Is it ideal? no. but could she handle it? yes. Look at old times. they taught there boys to hunt when they were little, girls to help raise there siblings when they were little. Go to a foreign country and you will see really young girls raising there siblings because their parents have died. I was in Rwanda and saw a little girl of about seven with a baby on her back. Children have an amazing ability to learn and adapt. There are kids all over the place doing it everyday. I think we give our kids a huge disservice by telling them that they can’t do something. We are raising lazy children in this country. I tell my kids they can do anything if they work hard for it. When I got pregnant my family banded together and gave me love and support and answered questions if I had any. It sucks that some parents rather than helping her daughter raise a child they would tell her to abort. How sad. Why not love our kids unconditionally and as a family help each other out! We as a nation have become soooo selfish.

Holy shit. Do I even need to say anything? I guess I’ll respond with some questions:

  • What are old time? Are you talking prehistoric?
  • Why wasn’t I taught how to hunt when I was little?
  • Am I lazy because I don’t want to raise a child at the moment?
  • Do I really need to travel to a foreign country to see girls with dead parents?
  • Maybe that little Rwandan girl was just taking the baby for a walk?
  • How could a little Rwandan girl breastfeed a baby?
  • Telling a kid they can’t do something isn’t a disservice, it’s fact?
  • Okay, that last one’s not actually a question?
  • Am I sooooooooooo selfish?
  • Are all the “o”‘s necessary?

This person totally reminds me of my new favorite MTV show, “16 and Pregnant”. I can’t explain why I like it so much. It doesn’t even make me laugh (that much). Most of it’s actually really tragic.

I think it’s because we all secretly want to know what it would’ve been like to get pregnant at 16, it’s just that none of us were stupid enough to try it when we were 16, except for some notable exceptions, who are now the stars of this genius show.

If only those girls were more like this one! (Skip to 2:26 for the good part!)

Okay, enough about abortion! Let’s talk about Britney Spears’ vagina!


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, 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?


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???!!


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…


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


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!


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.


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!


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.

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!




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

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