My mother is an interesting person. When her mother died, and her family started distributing the ashes, at first my mother didn't want her "share" of my grandma. Then she thought about it and decided she did want a little ziplock baggie full of parent, and when she was handed the catalog of possible urns, she instead selected a starfish made of cement.

Just to make the most of her new acquisition, she started keeping the starfish readily available for prop comedy. Every girl I ever brought over from that day forward was greeted at the door by my mom with the phrase "Welcome! Come on into the other room and meet grandma! Don't worry, she doesn't say much."

She even made a place at Christmas dinner for the starfish one year. If any of you ever wonder where I get my "dedication to a joke", look no further than the eccentric who birthed me.

But don't you take that "eccentric" the wrong way, I actually admire my mother's approach to grieving. By taking the remains and personifying them into a sculpture of a sea-creature, she robbed a depressing situation of some of it's sadness, and found a way to talk to absolutely anyone about a very gloomy subject in a way where even the most serious person couldn't help but crack a smile.

I love my mother, and in honor of her ideas, I've decided that when she dies I'm going to pay to have her entire body stuffed by the finest taxidermist I can find. She will then spend eternity in the foyer of whatever house I'm living in. She'll be frozen forever on her favorite couch with a big smile on her face, making the sign-language for "I love you" with her left hand, and flipping off whoever enters with the right.

"Welcome! Come on in, you can leave your coat with ma here, she's doesn't mind holding it. What? Oh I know! I paid extra for the eyes that follow you around the room!"

I think the biggest hurdle to my plan is getting my step-father to sign off on it. While I would truly mean this as a heart-felt memorial, I don't think this kind of thing is "pope-sanctioned"...

Let's talk about Condom-ents* for a moment. (*PATENT PENDING)

Resealable latex condoms packed tight with everybody's favorite condiments! We're going to market test it first using just ketchup, mustard, relish, and mayonaise... but knowing the strength of this product, more varieties are bound to be coming soon!

But why condoms, you ask? Let's start off with the most important part: resealable! Once you've spooged some mustard out of your Condom-ent, you can wash it out and reuse it as much as possible! Put whatever you'd like in your Condom-ent, from tabasco sauce to vanilla pudding. There are endless possibilities!

However, the best is yet to come... as the Condom-ent doubles as a form of contraception!

DUH!

But wait, there's more!

After you're done with your meal, you can make your hot dog taste like ketchup! That's right, all of our Condom-ent fillings include an edible lubricant. Just Slip It On N' Slip It Off!^tm

Everybody can join in on the fun!

Sold? Drop me a line and I'll whip up a couple of Fridge-Friendly packs for ya!

Have you ever gotten kinda drunk and started to do something stupid, only to sober up halfway through with more than enough time to regret it, but at that point you realize the only logical thing to do is finish what you started?

So I shaved my balls again.

I actually wrote that joke a week ago, I've just been busy. At the time of this writing my cock and balls resemble the face of a man who direly needs to shave. Though if we were to keep with the idea that my crotch is a person who needs things, we'd also have to say he'd need plastic surgery to make his nose and chin look less like a shaft with testicles... And really, if we're going that far, let's just simplify it by saying I have dick-stubble and leave it at that.

Moving on now...

Many parents teach their children a "Safety code word" which allows them to be picked up after school by someone other than their parents without fear. "Hey little Timmy, don't go with anyone but mommy and daddy unless they say the word 'Aardvark' three times." This is an interesting idea, but it could backfire on everyone if the parents have a sense of humor.

One day I shall have a child, and his code words will be "Hey kid, I won't stick it in your ass, now get in the van." True this may give the kid a few false positives, but it WILL be funny, and I expect to fuck up the first few kids I have anyway, so this "code word" can act as kind of a filter. You know, weed out the first few dumb ones until I can have something brilliant burst forth from my loins to carry on the tradition of sharing with the world the Johnson views on masturbating.

Speaking of, am I the only person who has to masturbate before going to sleep? I know that many men make "tugging on tigger" a regular nightly activity, but for me, jerking off is like Ambien. I can't go to sleep without it, and if I do too much of it, I may be tired and dizzy the following day.

Um.... Yeah. Have a nice day.

Few who know me would ever think to describe me as a spiritual man, but I do take what I like to think of as a bi-monthly 2 am pilgrimage to Walmart. I wander the sacred halls with a friend or two and bask in the glorious savings on every consumer product known to man. The catharsis I receive from this ritual is as great as it is difficult to describe in words, but one of my favorite aspects of these excursions is in the discovery of new and exciting ways that people come up with to sell you the same old shit over and over again.

Case in point; Gatorade has released a new product line called "Gatorade Tiger". Incase the name doesn't give it away, it's three new flavors of Gatorade baring the name and label-likeness of PGA champ Tiger Woods. It's said that Woods even "picked out the flavors himself". That's good enough for me!

But why stop there? With a name as hot as Tiger's, you shouldn't limit yourself to just endorsing products that touch your life personally! I was discussing this matter with my girlfriend, and the idea of a Tiger Woods endorsed feminine hygiene product was broached. She came up with the name, and she even made a prototype!

Introducing...


I came up with the slogan! Bet you wish you'd thought of it, huh? Don't feel bad, I'm in marketing. Like I said, this is just a prototype. My girlfriend, a woman herself, knows that most women wouldn't want to insert something covered in orange paint and black sharpie into their naughty-bits. Which is lucky, because I myself may not have guessed that.

Well Tiger, if you're reading this, we're working on a business plan now, and we'll approach you officially once we've figured out the whole "stained vagina" problem. Our people will call your people, as soon as I find some people who handle this kind of thing. It may take a while. Ciao.

The best thing about drinking beer in the shower is that it doesn't matter if you spill.

Today at work I slit my wrist. No, not a suicide attempt. I just work a job with lots of sharp things around that happen to frequently find their way to my flesh. It sucks.

For those of you not in "The Know", I am Josh Johnson; Blogosphere pioneer by night, cook at an east-coast pub during the day. And this pub, I'm convinced, is the nexus of the universe. "This place is like herpes," a coworker said, "Because once you've experienced it, you're irreparably scarred for the rest of your life. There is no cure. It's just with you. Always." It's a good analogy, but I'd personally call it less of an STD, and more of a severely dysfunctional family.

There's "dad", the richest (And oldest) of the two owners, who makes up for his lack of self-esteem by yelling at his employees for no reason and marrying a woman half his age. Then there's "mom", the other owner, an older jewish man who tries to kiss you on the cheek (If you're lucky) whenever he's drinking. And he's always drinking. It's why he bought into a pub in the first place.

There's a bunch of other characters in this inner-city soap opera. Half the people on staff are medicated at all times, and the other half just should be. I could tell you all kinds of stories, and later I will. I'm actually kinda-sorta-working on a book on it, though it'll probably be scrapped and just fed into the blogger here, because I feel that making any feature-length publication on true life kitchen stories would just feel too much like ripping off Anthony Bourdain.

On an unrelated note: If you took the grapes of wraith and left them out in the sun, would they eventually turn into the raisins of discontent? Seriously... This question has been bothering me for days now... I can't sleep... Or eat... Or masturbate... And I gotta tell you, that's not good for anyone...

http://www.myspace.com/inflames

*points gun at*
Go listen now....

I swear I'll go Seung-Hui Cho on this place.

I got tickets for a crap ton of metal shows coming up. Dimmu Borgir, Behemoth, In Flames, Megadeth, Dark Tranquility, Arch Enemy, and likely Iron Maiden.

Now I know I rant about In Flames a lot but thats ok they kick more ass then you do. They play better then you, they drink more beer then you and they watch more Star Wars then you. Unless your some kick ass, nakee chick band, called "Wedge Antillies for Life" then maybe I'll give you a pass.

Wow I about nerd'd myself out on that one...

Anyway as some of you may know I have a major MMA problem. Mixed Martial Arts to be exact. UFC, WEC, old Pride shows, Dream, pretty much name it I've seen it can name most of the major fighters and half the no name ones. It's like those fuckers that rant about the line ups of their favorite football teams from the 60's. I never thought I'd be one of them but at least in my sport getting your face knee'd in is a definite possibility:

exhibit A:


The WEC has a live event on VS network this evening starting at 9pm EST. You know that network with the bass fishing and hockey fights, I mean hockey games.



Anyway have fun, stay safe, and don't run into the the man above.

Folks, I got a problem. A sexual problem.

Okay, I have a few of those but let's take a dose of Ritalin and focus here for just a second. Kay?

The girls that I pursue with the prospect of "relationship" in the back of my mind generally have boyfriends. In fact, they always do! Usually well-off, reliable, long-term boyfriends that I'd like to have if I were a woman... or a very flamboyant man that enjoys virtual pets and the sweet voice of Josh Groban. I gotta mention that possibility; wouldn't want to exclude anybody. Even hypothetically!

Now not only that, but I'm suddenly finding that a surprisingly large portion of the female population that I pursue with less commitment in mind already have special friends.

Huh? You already have men that you keep on the speed-dial for one-button service? Just like OnStar, huh? Hey, how does that stop me from plowing you in those special ways that I've neglected to attempt on my driveway? The spread of STDs of course, but hey, we have condoms for that shit. You know, those life-draining little rubber bags that you're always embarrassed to buy at the pharmacy. "It's for a friend!", right? Look, if I'm going to wear one of these phallus-choking devices, there had better be a STD to protect myself from. You hear me?

On the subject of contraception in the form of primitive rubber jackets, I've got three things to say.

A. Ladies, never judge a man on his intercourse while wearing a condom. That's like me chopping your clit off, fucking you, and then asking "HEY, DIDJA ENJOY THAT?!"

B. Trojan, please stop charging extra for Magnum XLs. That's like a clothing store progressively charging more for larger sizes. What, we're going to be financially chastised for being just a little bigger than certain other people? Isn't that a form of bigotry? Look, I know you're jealous of my man-wang but let's not hold grudges! On that note, make Magnum XLs a little bigger...

C. Also for Trojan: where are the novelty versions of my Magnum XL, mother fuckers? What's your excuse for denying a significant segment of your targeted demographic a simple pleasure as, say, ridges? Men with larger penises love ridges. I'd take Ruffles over Lays any day! Not only that, but the Magnum XL is a vanity size. I hate to pass that along to some of you guys out there that may or may not have nothing else to pride yourselves on than an extra-large condom requirement, but yes, most men need at least a Magnum. Those that don't have my sympathy and respect.

But fuck their problems, I was talking about me!

So I have a magnetic affinity for [highly] attached women, my fling-focused girls are already flung, and this? This leaves me in a bind. So I look to work, my day job, for some potent poon-tang! And at my current job I've found a bevy of butterfaces. Upper-level women in the body department, at least, but some of them have looks that could kill. My sex drive.

Which works for a fling or a one-nighter, okay? But a lot of these women really want at least the possibility of a relationship! Hell, I do too. Believe it or not, I'm really a relationship guy. I just hate to tell these people that their body has written a check that their face can't cash!

My final alternative is my career. I'm an actor and an entertainer, for those not in the know. I've been quite involved in theater, film, TV, radio, and every other media type that I can get my hands on and my fingers into. I'm joining The Screen Actor's Guild in 8 days, taking a large step that will cement my path in this area! So you could say that I'm doing well, and meeting (and dating) plenty of hot women. Y'know, the type that those corporate money-mongers need to attract the masses to their movies and their shows and their shampoo and their alcoholic beverages.

But wait! Isn't this a solution to my aforementioned problem? It would be, if I had time to focus on acting... but I work an exhaustingly active 40-hour-a-week job! With a bunch of butterfaces! And when I go out to drink away them, I meet women that already have fuck-friends that are so satisfying, I'd want to fuck 'em! ...Ah, that's my homoerotic statement quota for the day.

Maybe it's time to throw "sexual identity" on my list of problems, huh?

Spock Says: Not Liking Fat Chicks is Illogical.

In case you're wondering, that's the amazon.com link to a collection of photos of "plus-sized women" as taken by Leonard Nimoy of Star Trek fame. Nimoy, at 76 years old, is doing a brilliant job at showing us that Britney Spears isn't the only person who can get a bit eccentric in the twilight of their celebrity.

Also of note; Absinthe is legal and I just found out about it this weekend. So of course now my head hurts, and after the first few glasses of legal Absinthe I ended up making love to a watermelon. Freedom has never tasted so sweet... with a salty aftertaste. I knew I should have thrown away the watermelon after...