Well, the wait is over! My newest column in Sidewinder (at www.sidewinderzine.com) has come out. As the main page of the website says: Josh rants: "Lately, it seems that everyone is having more sex than me: young people, old people, animals - though I should hope that none of these groups are fraternizing, with the exception of Ashton and Demi of course." Yeah, so I'm no Joel Stein. So sue me.

The city of Berlin announced this week that it will be installing electronics into some of it's trashcans so that when people throw things away the trashcan will talk to them, mostly saying "thank you." Evidently Berlin has a huge problem with people throwing their trash in the streets, and are under the impression that if something talks to them the fine people of Berlin will be more inclined to throw their trash at it. A city official also noted that the devices are solar powered, so they're cheap to power and they won't talk after dark. "Some people might feel uncomfortable if these things said something to them at night," the official said. Personally, I would feel uncomfortable with a trashcan taking to me in German no matter what time of day it was. But that's just me!

Last night North End (the bar that I work at) had it's 20th anniversary party. To celebrate there was lots of food, free drinks, and bartenders in tuxedos. All in all the party went off without a hitch. Then, around 1am, this guy started hitting on me, billing himself as "the most award winning gay porn star last year." That's right. For all you gay porn fanatics out there, you know I'm talking about Bret Wolfe (whose website you can visit at www.BretWolfe.com). Bret (whose real name is Jake) kept saying that we would make a great pair, much like Britney and Madonna. "You'd be Madge and I'd be Britney!" he kept insisting. "Yes, well, we'll see about that," I kept saying and then hurrying off to grab some drinks. "But you're adorable!" he would cry out, and then give me detailed accounts of the things we would do, which I would enjoy even though I was not gay (and which I cannot print here because...well...this is a family blog). Why can't I ever meet women porn stars like this?

Recently I've been made aware of a new condiment, and that condiment is strawberry mustard. What is strawberry mustard? you may ask. Well...it's just like regular mustard, but with strawberry flavor added. You can find out more about it at www.strawberrymustard.com. There you'll find out what ingredients it includes, and how to get your hands on some. It's as simple as sending in something (anything!) and then they'll send you a free bottle of the mustard. In response a friend of mine said, "I'm gonna send in one of my kitty's hairballs!" "What? This is special stuff! It's all natural ingredients," I told them. "So are my kitty's hairballs!" I can't argue with that.

Scene: Me and an obnoxious guy I work with, waiting for the elevator.
Guy: So what's Santa bringing you for Christmas this year?
Me: I'm Jewish.
Guy: So?
Me: So I Celebrate Hanukkah.
Guy: So?
As I step into the elevator
Me: So Santa's not bringing me anything.
Guy: Well that's pretty racist of him.
Me: How is that racist? We're both white guys.
Guy: Um...he's a biggot?
I press the 'door close' button
Me: Sigh.

The other week there was a headline in The Onion that read, "Non-crime-fighting dog takes a bite out of couch." I laughed, and then immediately thought of my dogs. Sigh.

From the book "The House Cat That Changed the World"...

The book chronicles an Abyssinian kitten named Misty who was taken in by Pharaoh Mingus II, and who some say started the trend of the modern day house pet. The book goes on to talk about how unfortunately shortly after arriving Misty was poisoned by high priests who were jealous of the cats influence and pissed off (no pun intended) because (I'm not kidding) it kept going to the bathroom in the temple. Amazingly Misty's favorite toy (a mummified miniature crocodile) can still be seen today at the Cairo Smaller Mammal Museum. Personally, my old cats would settle for that little ball with the bell in it.

As some of you know, currently there is a house being built right next door to me. As a result, there are construction workers constantly roving around. And what do construction workers like to do (besides sit around and shoot the shit)? That's right, eat! So this morning as I left my house there was one of those little trucks sitting in the street, the kind where it's all silver and the side flips up and there's soda and sandwiches and Jell-O cups sitting on shelves. Not willing to miss this, I walked up the truck just as a scruffy Russian looking guy was leaving (don't ask me why he looked Russian, he just did). Being the tough guy I am I grabbed a Tropicana orange juice and paid the woman $1.25. Yeah, that's right. I could be in construction too.

The other day Bernadette and I were at home watching television when the trailer for The Cat in the Hat came on. "I think I want to see that," I said. "I don't," she said. "Why not?" I asked, confused as to why someone wouldn't want to watch a beloved Dr. Seuss classic come to life on screen. "Because," Bernadette began, "I just feel that the movie would ruin it. I mean, I don't see The Cat talking like an old Jewish person. I don't like Mike Meyers in this role." I really couldn't argue with that. I don't think The Cat should sound like an old Jewish person either. God knows what Mike's reasons for playing the part that way were. Oy!

Good Will Hunting has been on...I don't know how many times today. A lot. So repeatedly I've been walking around saying:

Ya know whaat the best paat a' my da is? Pullin' up to ya house in my caar and hoping to Gaad that you're not thea. Ya just took off.

Today while walking past the Carson Pirie Scott on State street I noticed a man dressed as a toy soldier (complete with red jacket, tall black hat and red circles painted on his cheeks), and a woman dressed as Mother Goose. The two of them danced on the street corner (doing a dance that looked very similar to the Charleston) promoting something for the store with music playing behind them. Then, in a moment of shocking revelation, I recognized the toy soldier! He was the same man who had worked at the now-closed FAO Schwarz on Michigan as a toy soldier, standing outside greeting the children. I wondered to myself, Is this all this guy can do? Be a toy soldier standing outside stores? Or has he simply fallen victim to typecasting. Maybe he gets these jobs because he already has his own toy soldier costume and is ready to go at a moment notice. Whatever the case, I'm glad to see him working again, especially with those little red circles on his cheeks.

The other day I had to do the Stuff Exchange with my ex-girlfriend (she had my Monopoly, I had some of her DVDs). It was very awkward and anxiety ridden, and I shudder to think what it would be like to do the Kid Exchange with your ex-spouse every Friday afternoon. It's hard enough when we're just trading inanimate objects, imagine having to continually trade off little Billy!

Scene: Me working at the reception desk at the library today.
Me: Hi, can I help you?
Man: I don't speak English.
Me: Oh, um, did you just want to look at the pictures?
Man: Yes.
Me: Alright, that's fine then.
Man: Thank you.

After the man had left I thought to myself "was that situation a little fishy?"

At the bar last night I recieved a note that was stuck into my pocket. This morning, stumbling around, still half asleep, I happened across it. It goes:

Hey! We met at the bar the other night. I was the vampire. You were the sailor. If you want to go out sometime give me a call. 773-967-****.

That just seems exceptionally sureal to me. To paraphrase the great poem, "A vampire and a sailor can fall in love, but where will they make their home?" Too true. I have no plans to call the vampire.

As a side effect of Halloween there are now bags and bags of candy left over in the house. Subsequently I have been eating lots and lots of candy. I hope not to be throwing up, but I can make no guarantees. To side-step this I should have just bought candy I don't like...but I probably would have ended up eating that too, and just enjoying it a lot less.

Tonight, being Halloween, dozens and dozens of little kids came to our house just begging for candy. Among the highlights:

-A five-year-old as the Statue of Liberty, complete with glowing torch and books
-Two seven-year-old girls - one as some action figure, the other as a glass of orange juice, prompting this conversation:

Girl 1: I'm a (some kids thing I've never heard of).
Girl 2: I was a (kids thing I've never heard of) earlier, but y'see, my mom made me change into orange juice costume to go out.
Girl 1: Julia!
Girl 2: What?
Girl 1: You're whining again.
Girl 2: I am not!

-A family consisting of eggs (the dad) bacon (the mom) a bowl of cereal (their three-year-old), and a pack of Centrum Silver (their little dog). As the mom explained, "Have you seen a glass of orange juice around? That's our daughter" That explained so much.

-And then an eight-year-old girl wearing a blond wig and trendy clothes proclaiming, "Um, I'ma Valley Girl!" To which I replied, "Whatever!"

As a side note: God, we have so much candy left over.