My grandma thinks I should start going to Friday Night services since I am not meeting any nice Jewish girls in The City. I told her that the kind of girl that I would like wouldn’t be spending her Friday nights at Temple (unless they gots free Manischevitz). She actually took it pretty well (relatively. Oi, get it?).

One day I am going to write the "or something your parents wouldn’t let you see."

I just realized that I have never actually told the *this guy* joke. While it will be slightly impeded due to the somewhat visual nature of said joke, I will proceed. Q: "What has two thumbs and likes blow jobs?" A: *as I raise my thumbs inward on myself (2 thumbs up but at myself)* "This guy (with enthusiasm)." And I really like just writing *this guy* cuz I feel like the asterisks represent my thumbs comin back at me. Or something.

Dude, I know this sounds strange, but I think I wanna be on Jerry Springer. I mean, just in the audience. And I think I wanna talk. I have seen little bits of Jerry before, I guess, but I sat and watched it for the first time this past week and it was amazing. I mean, seriously, it was pretty fucking funny. And, being in the audience, all they want from audience participation is shit-talking and wise ass comments. That is so perfect for me. I could be like a professional/ringer type, contract working for various talk shows in that capacity.

Do you ever just feel like sitting around and mixing idioms? Or, barring that, sitting around only talking in clichés and idioms (oi, ballplayer style)?

Playing tennis with Mikey and after my favorite point, "douche," I was saying "Advantage, This Guy." Is it funnier now? It's ok if it isn't. Anyways, so when he was serving and, from douche, it was his advantage, he said, "Advantage, this guy." So I had to stop play and be like, "Dude, I'm this guy regardless of who is serving. It's like a proper noun, not a pronoun." In my scenario I'm this guy and he's that guy (more by default than by being "that guy").

Did you know: I got straight As all through school until the day that I got my first blow job? Good times...

Ma is probably shaking her head right now, thinking, "Son of a bitch." Well, actually, I bet that isn't what she is thinking (get it?). But I bet she is feeling a little frustrated.

I said that girls don’t have choads. Amber got all defensive and said (sort of snarled, actually), "Well I have a choad. And I'm touching it right now."

Elimidate: this girl, telling this other girl off, said "there is so much more to life than just looks and clothes. There's other stuff...like sports..." And when the dude elimidated #3, he said that she was out of his league. As I anticipated, one of the two remaining girls said, "what league are we in?" And the guy said that that other girl (that he elimidated) was just too smart for him (does smart=won't have sex on the first date?). "Hi, my name is schmuck and I like dumb chicks" or, the even-level-playing-field-that-guy.

The two best lines in Jay and Silent Bob (both by Jay): "I am the clit commander" and "don't whip your dick out until she asks you to...or she's asleep." (good angel Jay giving Jay advice on how to deal with the girl he likes). There, now you barely need to see the movie.

*Lion face*

Bert parked his "Electron Blue" civic right next to a bright yellow Porsche and when we were walking back to the car I realized that it looked exactly like giant Laker pompoms (remember, Jack Kent Cook, original owner of the Lakers called it "Forum Blue"). It made me pretty smiley.

*Lemon face*

I was thinking about the way I write these columns and I just wanted to say that all the grammar and spelling errors are on purpose...or something. That is, of course, except for the ones I make by mistake...

You should know by now that I don’t need a casual excuse to be crass.

Brooklyn Dodger jokes aside: remember how Rocky Dennis looked at himself in the Funhouse Mirror and he looked normal? I thought I found that metaphorical Funhouse Mirror, but...jones.

Good times=when I tell someone to go left and they go right and I get to say "your other left." It never gets old. Merits mentioning that it works for "the other right" scenario too.

Ok, maybe it didn't actually merit mentioning.

I think that it is fucking fabulous that succubus is a real word.

Rock out with your cock out.

So I have this credit at the Gap, said credit being the bane of my existence for some time now. The thing is, I have this awful (and probably not unfounded) fear that if I buy something from the Gap, when I wear it out there will be like 5 dudes wearing the same thing as me. And I don’t think I could deal with that. Anyways, so I walk into the Gap to peep game, figuring that I would at least get to hear a White Stripes song or something (didn’t happen). When I got to the men's department, the first display I saw was a giant gay rainbow spread of very bright colored polo shirts. The end of the voice memo I left for myself after seeing it was that: "My sensibilities are very distraught. Thank you."

Another thing that I hated about The Gap: too many fucking styles of pants. I was thinking, well shit, I could get a new pair of pants or something. I go and look and they have 72 different cuts and styles of pants. Even removing all the pleated versions from contention, they still had like 40 different cuts and styles. That shit just psyched me out. Bigtime. I am way too manic to deal with that. I'd have to try on every kind. If they just had 1, 2, or 3 styles, it would have been fine, and I would have picked the best size in the best style/cut. And no, I did not see the scratch and sniff pants available yet.

So then I'm peeping the sale area and I find this sweet ass pair of light gray cords. My size too. Bingo bango. I go to the dressing room and try them on, and they are hugging my package like I ought to be a cowboy or something (I just been to Reno, so I know). I'd never in my life put on a pair of pants so snug and they were totally what my size would be. And there was no way to sag them at all. I felt so creepy and weird. I took them off, dazed silly, and looked at them. Aha. They were low-rise pants for men. LOW-RISE PANTS FOR MEN? WTF? That shit was soooooo not cool. Ew.

How come the best imaginary friends are always rabbits?

As if it isn’t bad enough that you fockers have to use meters instead of feet, you can't even spell the word right either. Heh.

You know how Minnie Driver's character in Good Will Hunting keeps looking behind her (for Will) at the airport when she is about to fly away? Even though I officially fast-forwarded her joke the last time I watched the movie, I gotta empathize with her for that scene at the end. There is nothing worse than hoping for someone to be there who isn’t there. And you know they aren’t going to be there. But you want them to so bad that you can't stop looking anyways. That sucks.

They described the Laker draft pick (our first Sasha) as someone who "plays with his head up." Not to say that he will be an all star or anything, but that is the difference between potentially being a good and a great player, and it is hard to teach (you can't teach athaleticism). Furthermore, that is the type of player that other players wanna play with. Play play play.

by Justin