Friday, October 30, 2009


I'm so festive! Love me! I thought that since I haven't done a Q+A! in about a month, that it would only be fitting to do one today [the dia antes de Helloween]. I am going out into the city tomorrow night wiff mah two best friendz from college, Xtina & Sam and while I lurrrve any excuse to walk around a city and be a lusherz, Helloween is always intimidating for me. It's all about the costume and every year I am in fear of dressing up as sumfing lame that everyone is going to tink is dumb and then I get rockz thrown @ me and am forced to drink gin all night [::VOMz::].

This year I thought about being Balloon Boy but now that no one givez two shitz about him anymore, I rejected that idea. I copped out and decided just to pull a few items I have together and be a cowboy. I know, I know...not original, but what the effz? I still have mah Pepaw cowboy hat and have yet to wear it out in public [probably for good reason]. While brainstorming lame tingz to be this year, I started getting all nostalgic on holidayz past and thought that dis was an appropriate time to answer the question...

What Was Your Best Halloween Costume?

I can guarantee that wearing my cowboy hat, a purple bandana, a flannel button-down and my snugly infamous 27-waist jean shorts [I'ma shameless lil' buckaroo] will hardly go down in history as mah greatest costume of all-time. I don't recall many of the costumez I paraded my azz around in throughout the yearz, but here are the get-upz I was able to find in my photo albums/FacingBook:

Phantom of the Opera: I know the pix is blurry as shit, so just chut uh and deal. This is me reaching out to the center stage-craving little drama slut inside of mahself and tinking I'm hawt shit. For serial...I was like 7 in dis picture. What 7 year-old dresses up as a famous Broadway character on Helloween? This one does, ladies and gentz. This one.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Butthole: I know I look like I'm dressed up as a burn victim who is about to go skiing, but I'm actually supposed to be one of those rAdiCaL y bOdAcIoUs ninja turtles. Those dudez were the shiz when I was younger so of course I dressed my pre-pubescent nalgaz up as one of dem for Helloween. Even though Leonardo was mah favo tortuga [his eye mask was blue and his weapon was an effing katana], but I assume every baby cholito wanted to be his ass so hence his costume was sold the fuzz I had to settle for Michaelangelo who was the annoying douche who was loud and ate too much. But heyz, at least I got his nunchuckz! Those tingz kicked ass. I wish I wasn't such a wuss back then though...I would have totez beaten bitches down to steal their caramel cremes. And if any grown-up hoz tried to give me apples (or worse, Mary Janez), I would have knocked their faces off. Oh, and please note how my sister is like a settler or sumfing. A mutant crime-fighting turtle and a Mayflower village person...trick 'n' treating together in harmony. It's so bootiful.

Dracula: I decided to go all Castlevania one year and hauntthe streets of Hopewell as a blood-sucking bat demon. My dad is awesome and got my spook makeup all done-up perfectly. He even put blood dripping down my fangz. I was the shit that year, to the point where I actually won best costume at the local little kid parade where we walk up the distance of one block while our parents take a million and one picturaz of us. It was the greatest award I have ever won. I tink only my destined Oscar win will be able to top it.

Tic-Tac-Toez: Much like dis year, I waited until the week before Helloween to really tink about my costume when I came up with this shit. This was last year so everyone was dressing up as political figurez and other borrring crap like that, so I was all lyke "What's the stupidest fucking pointless thing I can tink of?" And then I made my tic-tac-toe costume. And NO, IT ISN'T ACTUALLY A GAME YOU CAN PLAY, SO PLEASE STOP GRABBING AT MY BODY, RANDOM DRUNK STRANGAZ. This was me at mah all-time worst. Feel free to hate me.

But then you must be pondering..."Josh, your question was about your BEST costume of all time." And you are correct. I just wanted to build up some suspense before I shock you with the pure, unadulterated beauty that was the costume I wore the year I decided to be...

Paris Hilton

It was two yearz ago and mi hermana was having a big sexxxy Helloween fiesta at her apartment. She invited me and some of mis amigos from college as well as a plethora of her friendz that I had never met. So of course I wanted to make a good first impression with all of these peepz...soooooo I thought "TIME FOR CROSSDRESSING."

Luckyduckz for me, my housemate Sam had all the accessories I needed to be a beautiful young woman Paris Hilton. I wore this oddly well-fitting pink skirt, a mesh black top [feat. polka dot bra], Juicy Couture sockerz, a sassy trucka hat [positioned just slightly off to the side to be edgy] and an over-sized pair of sunniez. I looked effing sexxxerskatez [read as: like a hooker in desperate need of some cock & coke]. This was also the night that I realized how awesome purses are. Serial, us guyz got screwed. We have to carry our wallet/keyz/phone/gum/condamnz/rando so 'n' so in our pockets, while ladies get to tote around fashionable little bagz to put all that shit in. I lurrrved it!

I also was able to carry mah faux-Tinkerbell pupster in it as well! Cute Central!
The only tingz I had to purchase were the fake weave [$5 at the nearby Goodwill] and the croco-print zapatoz [$1.50 at the nearby Goodwill]. I had such a tiempo fantastico that night and I ended up winning Best Costume and scoring a whole bottle of Absolut as an award! Tank you, tank you! I then proceeded to grab mah booooobiez [read as: sockz in my bra] and make a sloppy mess of mahself via whore-dancing for the rest of the noche!

But enough about mah dopey azz. What are YOUR most memorable Helloween costumez? SHARE WITH ME YOUR MEMORIEZ! And then go out and have a great sloshy time tomorrow night and be sure to try your hardest to get dragged to hell.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

How are those poetry exercises coming?

I realize that I haven't done a borrring book post in awhile, so I thought that I'd share with all of you [aka Enrico who will probz be the only peep to read this] a great read I just finished up last week. It's called The Anthologist and it's written by Nicholson Baker. It's about this dude who is a writer-blocked poet who's been hired to compile an anthology of poetry that highlights the importance of rhyme in writing. He also needs to compose the introduction to the book but has mad trubz doing so. The entire book is basically about him trying to get this introduction written, but due to a number of external and internal problemaz, he just can't do it. He dropz all sortz of fun poetry factz and even mentions this one poet in general, Paul Muldoon who lives in Princeton and actually has had the honor of being served by moi when he came into my restaurant last year. Lucky him!

Anywayz, as I do while reading all mah bookz, I ripped pieces of my bookmark [read as: scrap piece of posterboard I found on the floor of the bus I take to Nueva Nueva] and tagged the pagez with passages I found especially interesting. Being that I myself am a (struggling) poet [yes, I actually did graduate college with a BA in English], I was able to especially relate to some partz. A lot of those "A-HA!" momentz took place and you gotza love shit like that when it happens.

"...poetry is worth thinking about- from time to time. Not all the time. Sometimes it's a much better idea to think about other things."

Hellz yeah! I've talked about this with E. Copterz and mi otra amiga de poemaz, Julia many times. When someone commitz demselves to a creative expression of some kind, there is this constant nagging at your heart to perpetually be working on it. In my college classes, my poetry professor told us that we should dedicate two horaz each day to reading and writing poetry, but in all honesty, I'm lucky if I get that in a week. Tankfully Mr. Barker's narrator seems to be of the believe that one must never must bombard themselves with their art if they are unwilling to participate in it. Every poem I've forced mahself to write always ended up reeking of cow manure. Those I've written on my own accord out of mah own emotions only reek a little of bird vomit. IMPROVEMENT!

"What does it mean to be a great poet? It means that you wrote one or two great poems. Or great parts of poems. That's all it means."

Now dis is sumfing I completely agree with and also sumfing that every writing professor I've ever had has drilled into my noggin. Depressing as it may be, a writer is said to be lucky to write a three-page poem and be able to find one or two [MAX] linez worth keeping. Revision is the key to any good writing. I would come up with one of those percentile statements about how editing is 80% of writing blah blah blah...but I'm not a snoozefest text book. I am also such a wimp when it comez to revising. Like, my poemaz are my babies and to cut them to pieces seems a little macabre. But sometimes cutting up my infant child is the only when it can grow up to be a supa awesome cyber-infant. [what am I talking about?]

"A lifetime of fretting over pieces of paper and this is what you've got. And yet it's worth it, isn't it?"

For serial. I spend so much time just daydreaming up lines and ideaz that sometimes I berate mahself for "wasting my time" with such uncompensating notions. I start to feel that I could be doing sumfing more productive during those few hourz a week than writing/thinking up poems that will probably never lead to anything fruitful or rewarding. But then I finish a poem that I actually feel slightly proud of and it suddenly makes it feel all worth it. Cliche, cliche, cliche. But true, true, true.

"No wonder they call it bursting. It's a sudden outflipping of the lips and an explosion of liquid from behind the eyelids. Everything that's inside is suddenly coming out. It's really a physical event. You're literally shaking with sobs. Fortunately it didn't last too long."

This line actually has nuffin' to do with the narrator's poetic distractions, but instead a mental breakdown he has during the story. I just put it cuz it's kind of how I feel a lot of the time lately. Stress central and my mind never chutz uh! It's like, I'll be having a normal kinda day and den all of a sudden my head will fill up wiff dem teardropz [on my guitar?] and I'll crumble apart for prox an hour or so. Then I'll pass out and feel suddenly quite better. It's an interesting little quirk of mine and I don't tink a healthy one, but hell, to each his own.

Now, am I famous writer yet?!? UGGG! Tired of waiting!!!

Monday, October 26, 2009

My Monday Muse

Jill & her period-obsessed family

Puberty is the effing pitz. We all know it and we all hated it. Our bodiez get all fucked up, our voices start acting artarded, hair appears all over our no-nos while our no-nos start to act all silly. Pimple deluxe and emotional overload! HATEz. IT! But I tink about the difficultiez I've experienced as a man during puberty and I juxtapose it to what all the ladies of the world have to go through [researched heavily about on Wikipedia] and I realize I need to shut my stupid queer mouf and hug every woman I see! Holy shit galz, you gotz it rough! I grew up with two sistaz and I have only the utmost respect for them having to deal with all that bleeding crap while also having to put up wif me as a wittle brother. Trooperz!

And while I had to put up with goofy health class presentations on erections and foreskins and liquid dreams, none of those awkwardly intimate conversations with my gym teacher came even close to the videoz below. Not only do I feel bad for you bleeding every month [insert: that lame South Park joke that everyone always quotes] but I am soooo sorry if you had to deal with any after school health video that was at all disturbing as dis [be does get nasty in a few partz]:

Yeeeesssssh! OKAY Jill (feat. familia). We get it! The blood comes out from an opening between your legz. I could recite that in mah sleep after hearing it repeated so often. Every time they said that, my wiener cried out in confused pain! But it's not just that mantra that validates this family's front row seat to hell. Let's count the reasonz why this family is pure evil:

1. Animal abuse right from the get-go! "Mmmm...nice dog." ::peltz with bowling ball::

2. The mother's demonic pencil-browz and the sassy way she liftz them impatiently @ :40 (1st vid).

3. The little demon child (who is clearly only seven years-old and has a mental problem) is obsessed with bloody baginaz. Is she planning some sort of sangre sacrifice to Lucifer?! "Mom, do you have periods? Suzy, do you have periods? Does Miss Jones have periods?! Does Aunt Curl (?) have periods?! LET ME HARVEST YOUR IMPURITIEZ!!!" Sick, Jill. SICK.

4. Dad's overly comfortable nature about the whole incident. I'm not a prude in any shape or form, but if I walked into a room to find mi madre y hermanaz chatterboxing and was all like "What you hoz yapping about?" and then told me "Our bloody genitals," my gut reaction would not be to calmly sit down without a word and listen. If my mom spoke that candidly to me about the horrorz of postcum and the dangerz of overmasturbation [are there any?] I might tell her to check herself before she wreckz herself. Sick, Dad. Sick.

5. The entire "sanitary pad" tutorial in their dollhouse bathroom and the fact that it's repeated thrice. From outside of mah own screamz while watching, I was able to pick up the following: ", blue. Sticky like glue! IT'S STICKY!...I'm having my period...NOW...blah blah vom...Wrap it up. Pantiez...pantiez...pantieeeeeeez." I'm learning a lot! Why does the sister have to say "panties" so often. That word freakz me out.

6. The grotesquely gratuitous Ragu shot @ 3:11 (1st vid).

7. The little girl's attempt to flash her sista'z fuzzy mimosa at us by lifting her skirt @ 4:38 (1st vid).

8. The mom's excitement for her young daughter'z upcoming bloodbath. She has a fucking full-size calender all ready to go for her once she starts puberty in like 4 yearz. Tanx Mom?

I hope you're not as utterly horrified as I am by this vid. All you lady readers are probz rolling ur ojos all over the place at my terror, but once again, I'm on your side. If I could stop your pain, I totez would. But all those tomato-sauced padz have gotten me hungerz! ¡Adios mis amores!

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Music Video Vault

Janet Jackson - "Doesn't Really Matter"

Sure she's been the talk o' da tabloidz with her wardrobe malfunctionz and her sporadic weight-gainathonz, but Miss Jackson [cuz I'm nasty] cannot be described as anything less than a queen of modern day pop muzak. I mean, suuuuuure she's not that good of a singer and suuuuuuure her past three albumz boooombed in comparison to her earlier work, but she still (and alwayz will) hold a supa sexxxy part in the garbage dump that is my heart tanx to her greatest talent: MAKING NONSENSICALLY BRILLIANT FUCKFEST MUSIC VIDEOZ. She released a bunch of hitz and such in the 80s and 90s but I was too busy trying to not cry @ elementary school to be cognizant of her brilliance. The first time I really remember taking note of Damita Jo was when she got all Event Horizon on our azzes in that video "Scream" she did with her late bro. That shiz freaked me the hell out...I mean just look at those outfitz! Hiddy.Us.

She then went on to do a bunch of stuff that I apparently was too busy to care about. Then came the 00s and the forgotten Jackson made a comeback! This revival included gross/uncomfortable photoshootz
, hooking up with that rando guy Jermaine Dupree that everyone in hip-hop talkz about (though I don't know a ting he's done) and releasing some of the trippiest music videoz ever created; IE: "All For You" which plays like a drug-induced cartoon, "Son of a Gun (I Betcha Think This Song Is About You)" (feat. Missy Elliott & Carly Simon) which has legit been the basis for night terrors on more then one occasion and "Rock Wit U" which I want to play on repeat on a big screen at the foot of mah bed whenever I have sex.

But let's speak honestly for a moment, shall we? Any artist be them writer, painter, musician, actor, (or in Janet's case) music video pawn, has one ting that their career has been based around. It's a beacon or peak in the person's life that they will forever be known for. And you might be asking, "Josh, you idiot, Janet was around before you were alive, how do you know what her crowning professional achievement is?" And the answer I will instantly reply with is "I just do. I just do." So what IS her magnum opus? Look below and be amazed:

VIDEO SYNOPSIS: What's going on in dis video? Oh, it's so self-explanatory, yet so incredibly unexplained. I mean, yes, it's rather straight forward: Janet's chillaxing in her sweet Tokyo (?) apartment with her pet dog AIBO. She wakez up from her gumdrop dreamz and prances around her digs drinking orange soda, combing her hair with her demon claw finganailz and getting changed for a night out on the town. GiRl'S nIgHt! A bunch of her cholita friendz show up looking ridiculous and they all go out into the hall singing about "bubble babiez" or whatever the fuck she's saying.

Apparently Tokyo has weight-balanced impromptu dance platforms in the middle of their streets and not one to miss a chance to jerk and shake like a robot, Janet layz down some mooooovez. I need to chut mah gob though. We all know that give me two rum (feat. Cokes) and my desperate nalgaz would be out there actin' a fool with all dem hoz. We are then showed some rando shotz of ugly people dancing in ugly outfitz while they rub neon Bukaki on our mugs.

Janet and her plastic cheekbonez then coo to us about how her love will always be with us, and I'm all like, "No thankz, Jo." She and her fake friendz hop in a car and emulate me with some driver-seat Karaoke. Her friendz realize Janet is wasterskatez and that they need to get her ass to bed, so they take her back to her futuristic, computer-generated apartment complex and crucify her to bed.


:15 - Look at those pencil point 'browz! Grrrrrl must be getting makeup tips from Steven the Beautiful.

- Janet has obviously a deep appreciation for periodicals & journalism.

:45 - She is a big fan of drinkable grenades or whatever the fuzz those are. Diet of course!

1:07 - To walk to the front door, you must circumnavigate the entire goddamn room before exiting.

1:19 - Janet unhingez her jaw and I finally know what I will be for Helloween.

1:24 - Angel Dumott Schunard is one of Damita's best friendz!

2:15 - That poor fake doggie has to sit inside all day and watch that piece of shit Nutty Professor 2: The Klumps that this goofy song is from. I bet she doesn't even feed the starved little robo!

2:33 - Janet discovers the cure for world-wide hunger. Let's just hope Ethiopians have developed a way to digest silicone.

4:23 - My favo part of da song: "I'm always doing that!" Doing what, Janet? Doing WHAT?!

THE CONCLUSION: This song went to #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 chartz and considering how artarded America is [myself included], I'm willing to bet that the dopey movie it came from also was a box office smash. As I mentioned earlier, this song video ushered in a new string of hitz for Janet and I am sad that success has faded over the past few yearz. Grrrl better hire Mariah's retoucher and get back to flopping around in these computer-animated nightmare videoz ASAP! I've already watched this clip 439,865 timez and I'm starting to need a new fix.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

We're REAL People!

As anyone who carez about me should be able to tell you, this past weekend I had the good fortune of being able to meet up with some of mah favorite personaz en the entire mundo! Of course I am talking about my bloggy friendz! However, I am not going to write a long & involved entry about the night. There are plenty of Facebook picturez to get all gawkerz at and nearly every person in this photo below wrote a fitting and hilariouz recap of the evening. I would write one, but I work today more or less raped mah life away and my PB&J sammich dinner is calling mah name. Let me just say that it was the most fun I've had in forevz and even though I've only really known the Puntabulous crew for about half a year now, I still really view these folkz as a family of mine. It was a blast to meet them all and sing pop songz with them. Though every now and then David would drag us to hell [not in a good way] with borrrring dinosaur music from the 80s and earlier, it was still a night to remember.

Here's the Gang:

Front Row: Pissed Gypsy, ho being dragged to hell, Britney Spears, P!nk, Natalie Imbruglia

Second Row: Enrico, Jere, David, Chris D., FDot

Back Row: Some idiot, Polt, Kári, Dave S., Craig

[P to da S: Chris D. took video of our Karaoke adventure! Check out part I of the video HERE.]

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Clean & [not] Talented

My clothes dryer en mis casa doesn't work. At the beginning of the summer, when one of mah housematez attempted to dry a load of sockz, the machine started spurting flamez outta its ass and nearly burned our livez to the ground. It wasn't a biggie deal though. It was nice outside most of the time and our backyard was secluded enough to allow for us to safely and discreetly hang our ropa out to dry.

But now as the seasonz are a-changin', the weather has decided to make my life more difficult and require me to trek up the road into town to use the communal laundromat. There are prox 15 washers there, though only 5 of them work. And I wouldn't mind the trip if the washing establishment had some sort of wireless Internet capability so I could look up porn charitable foundations to donate to while I wait for my clothes to stop being dirrty/wet, but alas it does not. There is however a convenience store in the same strip mall where I oft go to purchase stale cheese danishes and pork roll sammichez. Derrriciouz!

Anywayz, the real point of this entry was just to share with you bloggy viewerz two music vidz I recorded while heading to and from the laundromat last week. Enjoy! God bless your earz!

Journey Glee Cast - "Don't Stop Believin'"

Miley Cyrus - "Party In the U.S.A."

Monday, October 19, 2009

My Monday Muse

Tyra Banks

America's Next Top Model is pretty much da most important ting on television ever, so it's no surprise that Tyra "Don't Call Me Fat!" Banks landed her crazzzy azz a daytime talky show. Basically she tries to be like Oprah! and have meaningful yet down-to-earth showz about kids with diseases and social injustice and blah blah. One time she had some of those nutbarz from the West Boro Butthole Church on and they called her a "F*g enabler." It was awkward and Tyra was all like "Chut uh!"

But this isn't why T. Bankz is being named My Monday Muse. Neither is her brilliant [non] hit single "Shake Ya Body." The reason she is being awarded my crown of approval is for her actionz during a GiFt GiVeAwAy she had during one episode of her show. Glaze your peeperz over dis:

I hope Dry As Toast has another bloggy competition so I can win Miss Tyra's Super Duper No-Fail Skin-Saving Eye & Anything Cream. After the mystery boxxxez are handed out and TYRAnnosaurus Rex screamz at the audience to "opendemopendemopendemopendemopendemopendem", we are shown the wonder that was her heavenly surprise nectar! Vaseline. Or as I uncomfortably refer to it as "Petroleum Jelly." Doesn't it sound like sumfing you would use to patch up leakz on your car's oil tank? But no, Tyra wantz you to smear that shiz all over your eyez and boobiez and anything. Just like prom night! But Chatterbox Banks apparently didn't use any of it the day this show was filmed; the bagz under eyes are so big I want to take her face with me to the super market and fill them with three weekz of groceriez!

Wellz, not only does she give that crap to everyone, but she bEdAzZleS it with dollar store glue-on sparkliez! I lurrrve how she lies and say they are worth one hundred buckaroonz. Yeah, try and sell that shit at a pawn shop and see if the store owner doesn't give you five consecutive eye-rollz after another. I love when she literally loses her shiz and barkz to the heavenz and goes galloping into the audience.

I tink I fell in lurrrve wif her sometime between her self-crucifixion on the floor and the campy little pose she givez while spinning the Vaseline around on her finga. For serial...the show turnz into the motherfuzzing Exorcism of Emily Rose. I guess I can kinda relate to her if someone gave me a years supply of Caramel Cremes or the first season of Flavor of Love Girls: Charm School on DVD, I might bug-a-boo and start neighing like a demon horse, but for Vaseline? OVEREXAGGERATION to the millionth power! Sure, Ty-Ty might use it mornin', noon and night [chu guyz], but it's still just smelly lubricant. Mah wildest dreamz would for def def defferz not coooooome truuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuue.

Oh what am I saying? Chut uh Josh! You know if somebody thrust free ANYTHING at you that you'd faint over the pure excitement of it all. I should be applauding Tyra for creating this jelly charity for us. She's just trying to get us to reach our highest potential! She's rooting for you America! WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU!

[P to da S: Someone is a genius and illustrated this nuclear meltdown. Check it out HERE.]

Thursday, October 15, 2009

SCARY Richard Scarry

As you bloggy folkz may remember, a month and a bit a go my family and I went to view my sister Smellody Melody's art show. I covered in a former blog post how vundervill it was and blah blah blah...but I forgot to mention one ting! Mi madre is a nanny for several families and will often share wit da youngun's tingz that I enjoyed when I was a little tot. Though most of the time the children aren't nearly as entertained with laundry baskets and listening to the Annie soundtrack as I was (snobz!), sometimes they are pacified with my childhood keepsakes.

Weeeeellllllz, while driving in my mom's minivan to Melody's show with my parentz and mah other hermana, I found an old children's book of mine hidden under the backseat. Mommy had shown the book (feat. ripped pagez and falling apart) to two of her [non]children and upon finding it in the car, I began to reminiscence and look through it. It was one of those Richard Scarry bookz that all of us wittle kids used to have. There's a bunch of animals in people clothes doing human shiz and being all cutesy. I lurrrved the ballz outta these books when I was younger, but now that I am older, I begin to realize how un poco extraño some of the illustrationz are! Lemme share deeez tingz wiff you folkz:

So this book's theme revolved around different kinds of absurd and detrimental/disturbing automobiles. Take this coche para example! That cracked out bunny is for some reason driving a crocodile car [how do rabbits and crocz even correlate?!] and is so stoned that his stupid azz don't even see the poor little mouser that's about to be digestered! Vore Time Holiday!

I distinctly remember this car being my favo when was a little tot-and-a-half. Cute! And I lurrrrve eggz. Driving dis ting would be heavenly. Omlette. Central! But take some time to mull it over. A chicken (or sum kinda poultry) is driving it. Transpose this idea into the homo sapiens' world and it would be like if someone was driving around a car that was not only shaped like a large unborn fetus, but one that also dispensed abortion-babiez to the masses. So. NOT. Cute. ::VOMZ::

Gross! Richard Scarry apparently promotes unprotected, animalistic, unloving sex. VILEz! Going to a bathhouse is like putting a giant sign on your nalgaz that readz "I'm desperate and easy and have no respect for meaningful relationshitz!" Look @ the way that whorebunny is savoring his outdoor slutshower! Sick. I have crabz just from gazing @ dis pictura.

So dat's what happened to her empowered ass! Good ting that cholita mouser is coming to her rescue. Don't worry Amelia, take a lesson from Aaliyah: "If at first you don't succeeeed, dust yourself off and try again!"

That fox/she wolf/lesbiana lioness is probz headin' on over the the aforementioned bathhouse for a sexxxytime rubdown! At least he (and his phallic coche) came prepared. Good boi! Don't touch any of those mystery p33nz @ the gloryhole unless there are three rubberz capping dem off! Herpez can do some nasty tingz to ur lipz! [not that I should know!]

Gasoline isn't yellow...even in cartoon world! Is dis the R. Kelly service station? Remix to ignition (feat. golden showaz)?!

Here's a drunky pepaw bowling over twink after twink parking meter after parking meter! How violent! I lurrrve how Scarry didn't even try to tame down how abusive and terrifying this image is: "a frightened parking meter." I remember feeling so disturbed after seeing this picture that I felt it was my duty to apologize and pat parking meterz when I was out with my family. I got so many strange lookz and was ostracized from friendship because people thought I was crazzzzzycopterz! Tanx Scarry!

I would totally rubberneck the shit outta the highway if I saw a pileup this sexxxy and hardxxxcore! It's like an all-you-can-eat buffet [if you're Lindsay Lohan]. Num-Numz!

Here's the party bus that's goin' be shuttling my Puntabulous peepz and I when we go out Karaoking a noche proxima! Just kidderz! Buses cost $$$ and mah legz work just fine tank you berry much! Anywayz...this pic is uplifting and hopeful. I want the gay owl to be my boyfriend.

Finally, on the last page of the book, I thought that I would express mahself and draw my own dream car! As you can tell, I have a lot of talent [aka got borrred after half a minute]. P to da S, how effing cute is that cheese car?! YAY! Now where are Mowgli & Hermanita to nom-nom those little bastardz up so I can steal their derriciouz coche?!

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Sweet Victory!

Last year, when I was bargain Christmas shopping for presentz para mi padre, I stumbled upon a glorious find. He lurrrvez to cook, so I hopped on over to Linens 'n' Tingz in hopez that I could find him a sexxxy spinning spice rack. Wellz, while I was kibitzing about the store, I came across these adorable kitchen utensilz made from some sort of bendable plastic/silicone/rubber material that were in the shape of a cartoon personas. They were called "Head Chefs" and in mah mind they were the cutest effing tingz I have ever seen en mi vida! I was totez about to buy them but then remembered that it's the time of year to be a giver [sumfing I'm not used to! ::cue stupid joke cymbal smash::]. So I bought my dad his spice rack and waited for the following week, when the holidayz were done, to go back. To mah surprise, the entire store had shut down! No cutesy novelty cookware for me! Disappointmentcopterz!

Fast-forward to three weekz ago, I was doing my daily scan of all my favorite blogz and I saw a contest being held on over at Dry As Toast where the prize for entering and being chosen waaaaaaaaaaaas... ALL FIVE OF THE HEAD CHEFS!!! And guess what, choloz...I FUZZING WON! I peed myself in joy when I was proclaimed the rando winner and just thought I'd share with you all my glorious success! This is proof that good tingz DO happen to those who are undeserving prickz who wait!

Sorry mom, dad, sisterz & cats...I have a new family I care about now!:

Monday, October 12, 2009

My Monday Muse

Baby Num Numz

When I was a little tot, I used to watch the fuck of all those old school Nickelodeon cartoon showz. Ren & Stimpy was demented [aka I lurrrved it], Rocko's Modern Life was hilariouz, Aaahh! Real Monsters was clever...even that snorefest Doug had its momentz of glory. But the king of all the Nicktoonz is the undisputed childhood cartoon champion Rugrats. That shiz was epic and there should be nary a member of my generation who didn't grow up burning their retinaz with its PG humor and cutesty animation. It was all about these babies with big headz and stupid voices who could talk to one another and went on all these adventures building sandcastles and shit.

While the show was generally quite tame and moralistic, there were a few instancez where my 6 year-old mind questioned the age-appropriateness of certain episodez. I distinctly remember one episode in partix where the bratty skank of the group Angelica was bugging-a-boo cuz her bitch mother got pregnant with another child. Being the spoiled slut she is, Angelica startz worrying that her parents are going to quit her ass once a new bundle of joy hell popz outta her momma's uterus. She goes to sleep one night and dreamz up one of the most terrifying tingz I remember witnessing as a little child. The monster demon from her dream was so scary that I had to run my bunz outta the room as soon as the sequence started. Don't shittt urselvez too hard:

Why does the baby talk like a gangster? Oh yeah, to scare the living ballz outta me! But before that, let's reflect on how awesome the parents are in her dream. They don't remember her, force her to live in the laundry room and feed her single slicez of Kraft cheese for dinner. Those two hoz are mah parental role models (God help the poor child that ends up with me as a Daddy).

As mentioned, this nightmare infant (Baby Num Numz as I so fondly remember calling him while crying into my mother's arms) made me fear for my life and feel like I was alwayz on the verge of being dragged to hell. Older though and I really do appreciate and respect his attitude: Do what I want, when I want, or I'll digest your nalgaz. Wordz to live by! I had nightmarez about being all gummed up shortly after seeing this episode for the first time. I was scared my body would be nom-nommed up and then crapped out into that oversized diaper of his! I saw Jaws, Pink Floyd: The Wall and even The Shining around that age as well and none of that terrifying cinema came close to haunting my adolescent mind as much as Baby Num Numz. Hope you can sleep tonight folkz.

[P to da S: Take note of how the next morning, after the mom comes back from the doctor and tells Angelica that they actually aren't having the baby, that little bitch celebrates and ignores the physical and emotional strain that her recently-miscarriaged mother just went through. That ho deservez to be cut up into chopped sliverz.]

Friday, October 9, 2009

We were warned?! Hurray!

During my lengthy bus ride into Nueva Nueva during the week, I like to take note of the rando billboardz and ads hung up en route to and in the city. During the past week, I awoke right before entering the Port Authority to find mah peeperz staring confusedly at this ominious Godzilla-sized advertisement:

"HUH?!" I found mahself barking out loud (thus waking up my slumbering neighbor). I immediately vommed in my mouf thinking that this was yet another alien/ginormous monster movie. District 9 was the shit and Cloverfield gave me a week long erection, I don't need another fix in those regardz! But I did like the ad demanded of me and I searched "2012" when I got home.

Turnz out that this is when the world is gonna end. We're all gonna die when the Apocalypse begins on December 21st, 2012 and Hollywood has decided to make some money off of our fear before hand. Apparently (and I'm basing this solely off of watching numerous trailerz online), a million comets will hit the Earth and tidal wavez will get us all wet/drowned and the Earth's crust will crack and Justin Guarini will release another album. Oh that last one seemz funny? That's just what my Apocalypse feelz like. I lurrrve mah ass some good Hollywood disaster moviez so 2012 is just what my demented heart has been waiting to spread its legz for! Seems that the producer of this film also produced and directed that awesomely inaccurate computer graphix wet dream known as The Day After Tomorrow which is more or less the exact same movie as 2012.

I don't care though! Give me global catastrophe [feat. juicy shots of famous landmarks being destroyed by storms/asteroids/tsunamis] and I'm in brainless Hollywooooood heaven. Who is gonna go see it with me when it comez out November 13th?! Take a look @ this tragic yet awesome teaser trailer and then tell me that you aren't also soiling your loinz in excitement! Weeeee! Chaoz!

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Welcome to the FUNHOUSE

I died and went to heaven on Monday. Yes, it's true. I am dead [not just floating]. My location of death? Madison Square Garden. The cause of my death? Instant heart explosion bloodbath when I bared witness to the goddess of my life, Alecia Beth Moore [better known to the uneducated as P!nk] take place in her critically acclaimed Funhouse Tour. WEEEE! My friendz Laura and Val purchased ticketz with my like a million yearz ago [read as: 6 monthz] and alas, finally the day came! And was it ever worth it! But let me rewind...

To those who aren't smart, P!nk is one of today's most crafty, creative and talented pop musicianz. Her beautiful yet rough vocals have drawn comparrisons to the late great Janis Joplin and her songwriting capabilitiez are often praised for their sincerity yet freshness. She's had 4 top ten albumz, 9 top ten singlez and has won two Grammys during her short career. She's redefined herself time and time again and has consistently proven her worth in today's pop culture world. Sadly though, she never seemz to receive the respect or attention that I personally think she deservez [check out this spot-on article that detailz mah point exacterz]. That is why (as any friend of mine, bloggy or real life, can tell you) I make it a motherfuzzing mission of mine to talk about her whenever I can. It's also why I will now share with all your vundervill peepz the magic that took place at Madison Square Garden on October 5th, 2009.

I met up with Laura and Val in Nueva Nueva and we all were shizzing our pantz in anticipation for the concert, so we decided to get some grub. I know, I know...eating leadz to gaining weight [aka my least favorite deporte] but we knew we'd need our energy before witnessing the deity of our existencez come glittering into our livez. While we ate some derriciously greasy pizza, I noticed a flourescent heart on the wall that obviously was meant to be a real life metaphor of my burning inferno affection for P!nk:

That old dude there for totez doesn't appeciate P!nk like he should. What a dickface.

After we gorged ourselvez [feat. vomming it back up so we stay in shape], we walked over to Madison Squared Jardin and looked around @ all the other cholitaz/gay men that crawled out of their hellish livez to enjoy P!nk with us. I took an unnecessary pictura of the venue's sign:

We got inside and checked out the merchendice and chatterboxed with some rando hoz about how awesome P!nk and how excited we were to see her. Blah blah blah...then we got to our seats and sat through the opening act, The Ting Tings. They were good and fun and I'm almost convinced to get their album. I didn't boo! Kudoz them. Now get the hell off the stage and give me some P-exclamation point-NK! After a seventeen hour intermission, the lightz dimmed and a video started playing on the jumbotron monitorz! It was @ dis point that I started hysterically hyperventilating [I didn't stop till like two hourz later when the show ended]. I'd like to describe what exactly happened, but I feel showing you all might be more exciting. Luckily for me [and all you gringoz!] most of the concert has already been uploaded onto YouTube. She opened with "Bad Influence" aka one of my favo songz on her new album! Here it is:

After I located my eyez [which had ejected themselves out of my skull due to their inability to handle the excitement and pure bliss unfolding in front of dem], I partook in what eventually became one extended singalong through the music catalogue of my favo singer! She sang a wide spectrum of hitz including older gemz like "Just Like a Pill" and "Don't Let Me Get Me" [in which she playfully mocked Britney Spears' tendency to lipsynch by tapping on her mic and pretending to be caught not singing].

Of course she sang her latest hits "Please Don't Leave Me," "Sober" and "So What," to which the audience literally went apeshit and started fistpumping and dancing like maniacz [or maybe that was just me?]. She did several coverz including "Highway to Hell," "I Touch Myself" and "Bohemian Rhapsody" as well as an acoustic set that featured her anti-Bush "Dear Mr. President," her depressing mommy/daddy issue ditty "Family Portrait" and "I Don't Believe You" which alwayz makes my tearducts go into overtime.

The show was a brilliant spectacle with amazing dancing, nutrageous costumez, trapeze actz, pillow fights, molesting couchez and huge inflatable killer clownz. Her encore consisted of a carnival-rock version of "Get the Party Started" where she was launched into the air and sent tornado spinning above the crowd and a beautifully subdued "Glitter In the Air" where she was slung hammock-style above the crowd with no safety cords. It was touching and absolutely incredible and by far the best show I've ever been to. Good jerb P!nk! You make me lurrrve you more and more each day!

Check out some of the best performancez:


"So What"

"Bohemian Rhapsody"

"Glitter In the Air"

"Get the Party Started"

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

My [Belated] Monday Muse

I know, I know. I'm writing dis herre blog on a Tuesday, so therefor this should really be called "My Tuesday Muse," but let's be serial, the alliteration is cute. Yes, for the first time in forevz, I wasn't able to update on Monday, due to my heading to Nueva Nueva to go see the Goddess of mah life, P!nk, in concert. But that is for def def defferz gonna be featured in another entry! I don't want to take any of the glory away from my muse of this week who just so happenz ta be...


And then all you bloggy readerz instantly put on your perplexity caps and stare @ moi in confusion. But you can all pick the question markz outta ur brainz right dis instant and let me explain! Sharks are pretty effing rad. They cause fear (feat. destruction) to the world and are looked up for it! They eat people and rip off limbz and then are given their own fucking week on the Discovery Channel?! Sweet deal if you ask me.

But the sharks I am enamored with this week aren't the onez from those documentariez, nor are they the ones that are featured in the classic blockbuster Jaws. No, the sharks that mi corazon is flip-flopping for come from a much more special [read as: low-budgeted] place! Who needs $$$ for decent effects when you have remedial graphic design skills and a limitless amount of documentary B-role?! Clearly not the directorz of these genius workz of wonder:

Shark Attack 3: Megalodon

Yay! Bargain movie making @ its best! Let's point out why this is amazing:

1. The size ratio of the shark stays completely congruent throughout each shot [read as: not at all. How the fuck is it one minute only large enough to swallow one man whole, but then is instantly able to eat a raft full of peepz in one bite? Maybe they were all midgetz?]

2. The guy in the helicopter does nuffin' but wear pepaw glassez and fly away.

3. The expert acting skillz of the ho in the beginning. Firstly, I lurrrve how she says "What?!" @ :17 secondz. Then I love how she criez out in pain when the douche that stole her life jacket got nom-nommed by the shark. If I was her I wouldn't have cared about his dopey ass. I'd be all lyke, "Serves you right dickstick! I hope you like being digested!"

4. The artard moron on the jetski makez no attempt to not go careening into the monsta'z gob.

Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus

I just added this to mah Netflix after only seeing this one short clip. Seriously...what...the...FUZZ?! Who givez a shit if you're getting married in two dayz, dude? A FLYING SHARK IS ABOUT TO KILL UR AZZ FOR NO REASON @ ALL! If you surf around [hah, funny] on YouTube, you can find all sortz of clipz from this Oscar-snubbed cinematic masterpiece including one of the mEgA ShARk eating the Golden Gate Bridge. No, I'm not kidding.

Deep Blue Sea

I remember being scared titless during this movie when it first came out. This scene in particular was the effing shiz that had all us gringoz in the theater scream out like little betchez. Looking @ it now, I can't help but feel that the shark lookz like a giant shiny dildo with teefz. Weird? Yes.

Friday, October 2, 2009

An Evening With Sedaris

So tonight was absolutely fantastico! Two monthz ago, Shawn & I purchased tickets to see the one & only David Sedaris do his once-a-year reading @ McCarter Theater in Princeton. I've been a longtime fan of Mr. Sedaris and his short & hilarious biographic anecdotez were actually one of the tingz that inspired me to start Josh Is Trashy a year and a half ago. Taking everyday events and thoughts and transforming them into sumfing that is both entertaining and mildly [read as: very mildly] thought-provoking became a writing goal of mine that I still follow to this day!

Anywayz, before the performance, Shawn & I got some derriciouz Indian cuisine @ this restaurant in Princeton. I got the Chicken Korma which is basically the dead bird smothered in a sexxxy sauce of synonym & other spices. Yumz! As an appetizer we got some sort of lovely potato cake (feat. tomatoes, mango chutney, yogurt & garbanzo beanz). YUMz (the Next Morning Gassy Explosion Mashup)!

After we gorged ourselvez like cerdoz, we rolled ourselves on over to the theater and waited in bursting anticipation for David to grace us with his presence. And then he did! Weeee! Folkz always talk about how strange of a voice Mr. Sedaris has and they're right! It was elfish in nature but had quite a spitfire behind it, like when he read a piece written in the form of an email from a disgruntled bride to a wedding guest who gave a free pizza coupon as a marriage gift. I died prox thirty timez during that reading alone! He also shared with us a touching story about raising sea turtles in his childhood aquarium, a fictional book review written on a feminist website by a misogynistic bigot and finally a collection of quick exerts from his personal diary.

My ticket to hilarity.

There were several times that I nearly cried out of laughter [with a 75% chance of wetting my slacks] and I was going to stay after to have a book signed by him but a) the line was too long; b) I was afraid he would try and chitchat with me like he alwayz does with fanz and I wouldn't be able to come up with a quick and witty response to volley back at him; and c) I left all mah libroz at home. Oh wellzzz, it just meanz that I will have to see him again sometime in the near future.

If you've never read anyting by him, then you must check him out. My favorite story by him is called "Keeping Up" and it's out of his latest book, entitled When You Are Engulfed In Flames. Give it a read and tell me what you tink! Or have you read any of his work already?! Don'tchu just wanna give him a big hug?! Up until tonight, I used to tink he looked kind of like a sea turtle, but after seeing him in the flesh, I believe he has lifted himself out of the realm of "Shelled Marine Animal" and has earned a spot in the category of "Adorable Pepaw." Good jerb David! Keep reaching for the starz! LOVEZ HIM.

Check him out reading on the David Letterman Show: