Bricks Explode

Salute Your Shorts Episode Recap: Cheeseburgers in Paradise

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Sun, 27 Nov 2011 19:18:00 +0000

I recently DVR'ed five episodes of the short lived, but much loved, nineties television program Salute Your Shorts. A quick Google consultation confirmed my suspicion that there's no current website that features Salute Your Shorts recaps.

And you call yourself an internet.

For those of you allergic to summer camp based hilarity, Salute Your Shorts is a television show about a bunch of kids who learn about life, love and hijinks at woefully under-supervised Camp Anawanna. In an effort not to over-stimulate our prepubescent brains, the characters were created as one dimensionally as possible.

They are:

Bobby Budnick: The Bully
Michael Stein: The Everyman
Donkey Lips: The Fat Kid
Sponge: The Nerd
ZZ Ziff: Nature Chick
Telly Radford: The Athlete
Dina Alexander: The Spoiled Pretty Girl
Kevin "Ug" Lee: The Clueless Camp Counselor

Our first episode is the eighth of the first season and centers around Donkey Lips and Sponge's efforts to gain/lose weight in order to join the wrestling team.

Cold Open:

Our story begins with camp bad-boy and unironic mullet owner Bobby Budnick selling food and other miscellaneous trinkets to his fellow campers, much to the chagrin of camp counselor extraordinaire Kevin "Ug" Lee. Ug informs Budnick that camp policy clearly states that there's no outside food allowed and that whatever parents send, he eats. Seems unfair, but he's a forty year old camp counselor who's routinely outsmarted by twelve year olds, so I'm not going to question the logic of his decision making. Ug then mistakes an actual shoelace for a candy shoelace and eats it.

First Act:

The gang laments the fact that their camp culinary options are less than ideal, and ZZ makes a joke about eating Earthworms, which was insulting to both Earthworms and jokes in general. Like most intelligent adults, Ug decides to publicly weigh Donkey Lips and Sponge in front of their friends to see if they qualify for the oddly stringent camp wrestling team. Since all great comedy derives from conflict, they do not, and Ug announces in front of all their friends that Donkey Lips and Sponge are too fat and skinny respectively to join the wrestling team. This saddens our heroes because they wanted to go on the annual wrestling seafood restaurant trip and because Donkey Lips wanted a trophy to prove to his parents he wasn't a loser. If I'm the Camp Anawanna Wrestling coach I'm not heartbroken since "actually wanting to wrestle" doesn't appear too high on their priorities for joining the team. Telly, unencumbered by any type of organized camp activities, volunteers to whip our boys into shape.

We move to the cafeteria where in non-wrestling or repeatedly pointing out that Donkey Lips is fat news, Budnick devises a plan to order some hamburgers from the outside. Despite the fact that Budnick has proven time and time again to be an unsavory character, Michael, Dina and ZZ agree to pay him in advance. Over at the "Wrestlers Weight Training Table" (Telly hung a multicolored sign which suspiciously looks like an art and/or craft, so I'm assuming she bought it from a neighboring camp) Sponge is drinking a protein shake that "taste like Donkey Lips' socks smell." Oh right, because Donkey Lips is overweight. Got it. Sponge crawls underneath the table to dispense of Telly's shake when he runs into Budnick who (for reasons unknown) is also crawling around underneath the table. Sponge wants in on the burger deal and the two temporarily forget that bullies and nerds are mortal enemies and high-five.

After lunch, with no discernible camp related activities in sight, Coach Telly decides to have Donkey Lips run a mile while Sponge eats twenty bananas. Never wanting to miss an opportunity to remind the viewer that Donkey Lips is overweight, this takes him four hours to achieve and is subtly scored with the Benny Hill theme song. Four hours to run a mile? Donkey Lips should quit worrying about wrestling and concentrate on a far more pressing opponent: Diabetes.

Great, now I'm doing it.

Back in our Burger-rific B-Plot there's a scene with ZZ and a piggy bank which I'll skip because ZZ offers nothing to the plot or this show in general. Ug catches Budnick making a telephone call, which I'm assuming is also against camp policy, because the kids are forced to pick up trash for their transgression. While picking up trash and formulating a new burger plan I notice a few kids in the background going on a nature hike with a much more professional camp counselor. Must be nice.

The "plot" intensifies as Budnick politely informs Donkey Lips and Sponge that they have to sneak out of camp to pick up the burgers or get "pounded." Donkey Lips, ignoring the fact that he outweighs Budnick by about one hundred and fifty pounds, agrees. Sponge appears heartbroken that the high five he and Butnick clandestinely shared underneath the cafeteria table apparently meant nothing to Budnick.

Act Two:

We catch up with the "paradigm of children's education" himself Ug Lee as he takes a break from doing nothing and decides to catch some sun while sipping a cocktail. Telly interrupts to ask if Donkey Lips and Sponge can skip "activities" for the day to go jogging. Ug, most likely surprised that there were any discernible activities planned for the day, agrees, but only if Donkey Lips pushes Sponge in a wheelbarrow to prevent Sponge from losing weight; a plan both practical and degrading.

On the way to pick up the burgers Donkey Lips and Sponge engage in a legitimately sincere conversation about why they're bullied and how it's okay because of how successful they'll be when they grow up. Glancing at their IMDB pages, I disagree, but it was a surprisingly tender moment that genuinely showcased their budding friendship. Sadly, if those nerds would have suppressed their feelings, like all great men are taught to do, they would have heard all their burger money falling out of Donkey Lips' pocket. The lesson as always: Never Feel.

Finally Ug finishes his sun bathing and is a little too excited when he discovers a trail of pocket change. I can't imagine a camp counselor makes that much, but keep it together dude. He follows the trail and ends up, yep you guessed it, at the same Burger Shack as Donkey Lips and Sponge.

Meanwhile a clearly agitated Burger Shack employee waits for Donkey Lips and Sponge to pay. I imagine her antipathy comes not from working at a desolate Burger Shack that's hilariously isolated from everything except a summer camp that explicitly forbids its campers from eating there, but from the sad realization that her life hasn't turned out quite the way she expected it to. This show is deep y'all.

Sponge and Donkey Lips realize they've lost the money and notice Ug walking to the Burger Shack. The Burger Shack employee yells through the loudspeaker that "their order is ready and she doesn't want to waste the rest of her life waiting for them." Something tells me that this lady won't be around for future episodes. Or possibly tomorrow.

Ug notices the attractive girl in distress and, of course, tries to woo her. Based on their mutual admiration for poor job performance and degrading children you would think this would be a match made in vocational apathetic heaven. But it's not. The pretty young girl uses the promise of a swim date to trick Ug into paying for the burgers. While Ug cartoonishly attempts to pay, my favorite dialogue from the episode takes place:

Sponge: Kicked off the wrestling trip, kicked out of camp... my parents aren't going to get a refund.
Donkey Lips: And Ug is touching our food!

Sponge and Donkey Lips steal the hamburgers with a giant stick and the Burger Girl closes the window and puts up a sign that says: Closed... For Your Convenience... which doesn't make any sense, but I'm not here to review signs, I'm here to review television history. Once again Ug gets the short end of the stick and Burger Girl is off to finally put an end to all the pain.

Sponge and Donkey Lips race back to camp to give their ungrateful friends their burgers. But Ug, who found, and then lost, thirty dollars in change AND got his heart broken all in the span of ten minutes, is right behind them! The campers decide to eat the evidence. Now if you're a fan of logic you may want to skip to the end. Donkey Lips and Sponge bought thirty six burgers which means that each camper would have had to eat six burgers in about two minutes (Donkey Lips admirably didn't eat any because of his diet).

Ug enters and asks if everyone is having a party and wonders out loud why he wasn't invited. This is where I'd normally make a joke about Ug, but I think he meant that question earnestly. I don't think he has any friends. He then invites Donkey Lips and Sponge down to the lodge so he can weigh them because the wrestling tournament, the one that was just announced four hours ago, is tomorrow. That makes sense.

Just before he leaves Ug notices a certain smell in the air. Budnick comments that maybe Donkey Lips should shower more often. Everyone, including Ug, laughs.

We're finally here. The weigh in. I think I'm a lot closer to understanding myself after watching this episode; also, I'm definitely closer to understanding why nobody has ever written a review of this show before.

First up, Donkey Lips. Ug weighs him and then says in dramatic fashion that he's one... pound... over. You generally do the dramatic vocal spacing when you have good news for someone, but Ug is in all likelihood mentally challenged, so I'm going to give him yet another pass. Donkey Lips gives Sponge his claw cracker (which he had in his pocket and easily weighs over a pound) and sadly waddles off. Sponge makes weight and a crowd of about fifteen very bored children cheer. Coach Telly gives Sponge a dumbbell and tells him to start training (for a competition that's twelve hours away) but Sponge is more concerned about his friend.

I like Sponge. He'd make a fantastic acquaintance.

Sponge places the five pound weight on the scale, but then realizes that the scale says seven pounds. Ug looks at the scale like a dog trying to understand quantum physics, but (eventually) realizes that the scale is off and that both of our heroes made weight!

Sponge finds Donkey Lips and tells him the good news and the episode ends on a lighthearted note of friendship. Did Sponge get his lobster? Did Donkey Lips receive a trophy? Who knows. Does it really matter? It's about the journey not the destination. Also, the episode is over, so I'm happy.

I rate this episode a B- due to its over-reliance on two characters I don't really care about, refusal to give my main man Michael some more screen time and lack of Awful Waffles. A successful Salute your Shorts episode should be:

70% Budnick/Michael*/Ug
20% Telly/Dina/Sponge/Donkey Lips
9% Threats of People Receiving an Awful Waffle
1% ZZ

Camp Anawanna, I hold you in MY heart.

* Or Pinsky

TV Pilots

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Wed, 26 Oct 2011 01:52:00 +0000

Welcome back to the blog that answers the question, "Where exactly does Josh go to write when he's frustrated with his latest script?"

Yikes! Horrible opening, but I'm keeping it as a reminder to all future openings of just how atrocious they can/will be.

I think I may have used an opening very similar to that once before, but lucky for me nobody on Earth will take the time to go back and look through this blog. Dodged that inconsequential bullet.

Last week I posted not one, very much two, not three, but TWO spec scripts. I received three very kind and extremely thoughtful emails and to those three kind souls I say, thank you. To the other six billion people in the world, well, I'm not angry; I'm just disappointed. Ah, subtle passive aggressive guilt trips. The classics almost never die.

I'm posting two pilots I wrote for your winter of visual discontent. Let's discuss them shall we? And by we, I mean me. This is not your blog. You seem to get very cyber-handsy after a few drinks don't you internet?

The Ripple Effect

Logline: After a three hour tour gone horribly awry, seven castaways play pickup hoops against a rather unorthodox team of traveling basketball players from Harlem. The stakes? Their LIVES.

Whoops. Wrong logline.

Actual Non-Globetrotter related Logline:

After a near death experience, a former prodigy reluctantly forms a partnership with a secret organization that specializes in helping people fulfill their destiny.

The Ripple Effect's my first hour long pilot and the first script I've written that's ever won a writing contest (ugg me and my bragging should get a room). Does this mean you should refer to me as an "Award Winning" writer? Oh, I don't know (fake blush, throws back nonexistent long hair and giggles). But I for one see no difference between me and Kids Choice Award Nominee Tom Hanks. Oh wait, I ACTUALLY WON THE AWARD. Take THAT nicest person in show business.

Enough Tom -(Hanks)foolery*. I love the one hour dramedy. In fact, I believe the writing of Josh Schwartz (The OC, Chuck) has greatly influenced my life. Am I saying the one hour dramaedy style that Josh Schwartz perfected filled me with unrealistic expectations of both life and love? No. Do I wish life was like a Josh Schwartz television program? Absolutely. The awkwardness. The longing looks. Dramatic... pauses. Looking pensively at/near a body of water. Death Cab/The National scoring my life's pivotal moments. Dramatic declarations of love. Punching people. Montages where people playfully throw food at each other. People, this is life! Well, it's not. But it should be.

The Ripple Effect's a personal favorite of mine. It's the first script I got paid to write (or if you're someone who loves FACTS the first thing I got money for BECAUSE I wrote it. I didn't exactly get paid TO write it. But hey, this is a blog; you need to play fast and loose with facts, spelling, grammar and copyright infringement). Is it perfect? No. Is it almost perfect? No. Is there a reason I'm needlessly bashing my own work? No.

Groves Corner

Logline:

A down-on-his-luck gambler returns to the quirky hometown he disgraced after inheriting his grandfather's eccentric business.

That description was fun right? Had some nice adjectives; I threw some hyphens in there to spruce it up a bit. Anyway, I would describe this script as a quirky romp. Like Gilmore Girls meets... something I wrote.

So read these scripts. Or don't read these scripts; I'm probably not the boss of you. If I am the boss of you, get back to work slacker.

Thank you again for the kind words, and, most importantly, for not showing this blog to the people who oversee mental institutions.

Fond Regards,

Josh

* In a world where hurtful, racist, stupid people are all allowed equal space to voice/vent their opinions on the internet, I Josh Sorokach, should have any and all internet posting privileges revoked for using that horrible, horrible, awful, horrible joke. I deeply apologize.

Community and It's Always Sunny SPEC-tacular

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 00:55:00 +0000

Hello people whose Google search accidentally sent them here! My name's Josh. Please don't say your name out loud, that's not how the Internet works. I've decided to post a few of my scripts online for a variety of reasons:

1. I enjoy reading different pilots and specs from young writers and I thought, maybe somewhere out there in this crazy world of ours somebody feels the same way. If we have this in common, who knows what else we have in common! Does Backgammon frighten and confuse you too? Wanna meet for a drink?
2. I always enjoy constructive feedback. I believe the anonymity of the internet encourages not only the smartest, but also the most productive members of our society to leave rational, contemplative comments.
3. Because all great Television writers post their old spec scripts on blogger. It's how Charles in Charge became America's sweetheart.

So if you'd like to read my Community or It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia spec scripts you can do so below. Any comments/fan mail/hate mail/Russian Order Bride information can be sent to Joshsorokach@gmail.com. If you have a script and want to do some sort of script swap, shoot me an email. Not so we can exchange scripts, mostly so we can say "Script Swap" out loud. It sounds like something a marbled mouth Pirate would declare.

Next week I'll post two ORIGINAL pilots. Your prayers have been answered, no one!

Enjoy!

Community Spec Script

Logline: Jeff's successful ex-girlfriend visits with the intent of enlightening Greendale students on the hazards of emulating Jeff Winger. Troy and Abed start a morning radio show.

Not so fun fact: I broke one of the cardinal rules of spec writing with this sample... "Don't suck." Ha. Half kidding. The rule I (repeatedly) bent, then broke, then blew up, was: don't base your story on an outside character. Womp to the Womp. This script definitely has an early season two vibe to it (which makes sense considering that's when I wrote it). I give this script eight gravy bowls... which makes no quantifiable sense. Even to me.

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia Spec Script

Logline: After a brush with death the gang decides to change their ways and become better people.

Not so fun fact: This script made into the top 5% of the WB TV Writing Fellowship! That's equivalent to winning your step brothers accidentally bronzed bronze medal. It was the first television script I ever wrote, but since you can enter two specs for the contest, I decided to fix it up and send it out. And kids, that is How I Met your Mother...

I’m on the Internet so I Must Be Important

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 13:31:00 +0000

Ahh the joys of writing after taking half an ambient at 1:42 a.m. I’m going to do a little bit of stream of conscience writing for twenty minutes, lightly edit and then post in the morning. Let’s see what’s inside this big old pumpkin shaped head of mine shall we?

Back in the year 2007 (when the TV show Dirty Sexy Money ruled the Dirty Sexy World) I started this blog. In many ways it has helped propel my writing into the work of very average motel lobby art you read with your very own human eyes right now. Crazy right? You’re reading this in YOUR present but in MY past.

Everyone okay? Looks like I accidentally set the microwave to high and gave you a pesky case of MIND MELT. Actually, I don’t think setting the microwave to high can cause a mind melt. Honestly, I don’t even know how to set my microwave on high. Why would that function exist? And if it does exist, what the hell microwave, are you telling me you’ve been half-assing it for the past five years? I really expected more from a forty dollar microwave I bought in Pottsville Pennsylvania five years ago. I didn’t live through whatever year my grandparents always talk about when things were cheap, people listened and something something no more respect for something anymore, but maybe they have a point.

I started to think about this blog today while up late working on a new script. You might say to yourself, “Woah partner, you’re now an award winning writer, I’m sure you’re always up late crafting dialogue, creating scripts and having copious amounts of self-doubt because that’s how every unreleased independent movie I’ve ever seen on Netflix depicts writers.” First, don’t call me partner. I’m not your five year old cousin’s schoolmate and we’re not at a classmate’s cowboy themed birthday party. Capeesh? Second, you’re dead wrong Pepperjack. See? Nicknames can be hurtful.

I rarely stay up late anymore because I’ve hit that sweet sweet spot in life where I have learned to treat sleep with the same reverence I use when taking out a nice young lady that I intend to marry someday (in this example let's go with 2005 Kristen Bell). If I were to take sleep out on a date, I’d open doors, pull out chairs, pick up the bill, even do that thing where the guy walks street-side while on a sidewalk so his lady doesn’t get splashed with mud or run over by an absentminded vehicle, which is sort of insulting when you think about it. If I were a lady I’d interpret it as: here woman, since your feeble brain can't comprehend the relatively simple act of carefully placing one leg in front of the other, I, THE MAN, will walk by the road so you don't accidentally kill yourself. Ugg, I hate that guy; I hope you made him buy extra drinks and left him door-side with cheek kiss.

I now cherish sleep. I think about sleep more than any active twenty-eight year old male should. I try to get a solid 7-8 hours because I read (in a book thank you) that sleeping eight hours a day prevents certain forms of death. And since living well is the best revenge by the powers invested in me by the transitive property: sleeping well leads to revenge. Right? Someone check my work there.

While on my lunch break at my real job last week (mountain climber) I jotted down a sketch idea for sleep. Here it is. Unedited.

Hey, still Josh here. This is in no way an actual skit; I was just jotting down notes. So cool down MEDIA.

Subject: Skit- Sleep deprivation center that takes itself very seriously

Man: This is the sleep deprivation center correct?

Man 2: Yes, of course it is. No we're not going to help you go to sleep. Going to sleep is easy dummy, you just close your eyes. Babies can sleep and they can even drive a car. We here at (insert name) are a sleep appreciation clinic, we're not here to help you fall asleep pervert. Why don't you go stock up on some candy corn, get back into your van and go fishing for children sicko.

Man: Why are you angry?

Man2: Because I love sleep! Does it appear to you that I'm sleeping right now?

Man: No?

Man 2: We as a society, on a good night, only sleep eight hours a day. It's unbelievably frustrating.

Man: How much should we sleep.

Man 2: About nineteen hours. But I'd settle for fifteen. But good luck getting the fat-cats to sign off on that one.

Man: What fat-cats?

Man 2: Hey, shut up.

Man: Sorry.

So, apparently this skit is about a man who goes to a sleep clinic, but the clinic is actually a shrine to sleep appreciation? And the owner is angry because when he's forced to work he can't sleep? Is that where I was going with that? He should still be happy, he gets to work closely with sleep. Chin up Man 2. Things could be worse.

If you had anything better to do I apologize for wasting your time. If you didn't, you're welcome.

P.S. Thanks to Sydney and random (kind) stranger who commented on my last post! You two are the bees knees!

P.P.S. I wish people used the insult "Blockhead" more. I also wish more people would tell a crazy person to "Simmer Down" when they get excitable.

Community Day

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Fri, 10 Jun 2011 16:42:00 +0000

Greetings internet! It’s been a long time since I came around. It’s been a long time, but I’m back in town but this time I’m not leaving without you. See, I listen to Lady Gaga, I’m just like you and/or that weird co-worker of yours that adores Lady Gaga just a little too much. You know the one. With the abundance of eye make-up, always seems to be mumbling to herself, tries to strike up conversations about Vampires in a non-ironic way. She has a name like Karen but refers to herself as Kar-een. Hey crazies I’m sure you accidentally stumbled on to this blog from your “how to animate myself” Google search, but a word of advice: pronouncing your name differently doesn’t make you unique; it just saves time in letting people know you’re crazy.

That was a fun little opening that tiptoed around volatile. I’m going to review the year in television. Why? Because I have opinions dammit! And it’s 2011 so they must be validated!

Shows I stopped Watching:

Modern Family: Everyone loves this show. Everyone. Moms, barbershop quartets, vikings, dogs, geeks, sportos, motorheads, dweebs, dorks, sluts, they all think this show is a righteous dude. This universal love paradoxically caused me to ignore this program; a perfect example of my own glaring lack of personal growth and unwarranted propensity for spite.

One Tree Hill: I hate internet criticism. It usually stems from a place that feeds on two parts hate and one part jealousy (a Joan Rivers cocktail if you will) but there was an episode of OTH this season that I literally thought was an hour long dream sequence because it seemed so implausible. It wasn’t. The show’s still on the air though, so I guess the best revenge is living mediocrely.

Smallville: Ever since I found out that **Spoiler Alert** Clark Kent is Superman the show sort of lost its enigmatic appeal. Apparently they let this spoiler slip in the pilot episode as well as every subsequent episode thereafter, but I must have missed it. Round one goes to you, years of excessive drinking.

Grey’s Anatomy: Can we just merge all of the medical procedurals and law enforcement procedurals into one engaging hour-long show? Not everyone on the planet is a surgeon and/or cop people who run Hollywood and don’t read my blog! Light bulb. What if I write a show about an undercover cop/surgeon? Dr. Justice starring… Jason Biggs? This fall crimes prognosis... NEGATIVE.

Glee: I really enjoy the classic Opening/Song/Song/Song/Story/Song/Song/Song/Plot? structure of Glee. I make fun, but deep down I secretly wish people around me would break out into song and all my arguments would be hammered home by pitch perfect harmony.

Shows I (somewhat) Watched:

How I Met Your Mother: If my dad told me a story that lasted seven years it better end with “And one day, you too, will become a Teenwolf.”

American Idol: I hopped off the idol train after my future girlfriend and future future ex-girlfriend Haley Reinhart got the boot. I don’t really care for the actual show, most of the contestants, Ford, Coke, or anything any of the judges ever have to say. I do however find Ryan Seacrest to be quite the comedic and surprisingly engaging host. I never thought I’d find Seacrest to be entertaining yet here we are. Your move Armageddon.

The Killing: I never understood the hullabaloo about this program. I also never understood how “hullabaloo” is word and not a hilariously overweight animated dinosaur cop from a 1970’s Hanna Barbera cartoon. Here's the scene by scene breakdown for The Killing: Long gaze/rain/crying cut to: rain/two characters start to talk quietly but then somebody shouts/pensive gaze/rain cut to: /Josh napping/ cut to: crying/dramatic gaze/something happens to move the plot in the final five minutes/credits.

Shows I liked:

Bored to Death: It’s just a fun show. Jason Schwartzman: Fun. Three Men and a Baby Danson: Fun Zach GaliFUNakis: I included his fun tag in his name because the fun figuratively illuminates from him like a pre-ozone layer earth. So… present day earth. I don’t know if that last point made any comedic or scientific sense. I know very little about the world around me.

Entourage: Entourage had a renaissance this year, like a once great athlete who heroically takes steroids so he can sign one more long-term contract. Ah Jason Giambi you’re an American hero. I enjoyed the plot of Entourage this season. Something I never thought I’d say about anything involving Sasha Gray.

Parenthood: Solid cast that really finished with a strong second season. You know who's an underrated dramatic actor? Stop guessing. Dax Shepard. He may have a name that sounds as though he’s a disgraced former X-Games announcer but he possesses the acting chops of a theatrically well trained lion.

Happy Endings: Big fan of the witty pop-culture laden dialogue plus this show boasts a very strong ensemble cast of comedic talent. Recently I was on a plane with star and former SNL’er Casey Wilson. Our eyes met. We didn’t necessarily fall in love, but we didn’t not fall in love if you know what I mean.

Shows I also enjoyed but have nothing to say about: The Office, It’s Always Sunny, Lone Star, Terriers, Breakout Kings

Shows I Loved:

Justified: Raylan Givens and Boyd Crowder took over the mantle of “favorite frenemies” now that Jack and Sawyer are off in the afterlife exchanging various “hooking up with Kate” antidotes and seeing who can win a gratuitously removing your t-shirt contest.

Dexter: I enjoyed this season of Dexter. Nothing may ever top the sensational first season or the exhilarating climax of the Lithgow finale, but I enjoyed the year O’ Stiles. Is it because her name reminds me of Teenwolf’s best friend? No. But that doesn’t hurt.

Friday Night Lights: Storytelling, phenomenal acting and creating real, yet intricate characters no show better exemplified those traits more than Friday Night Lights. This seems strange to say, but the series was a privilege to watch.

Parks and Recreation: This show is too good for a little paragraph. More on this at a time that we shall be BD'ed.

My Favorite Show: Community

Community is the most progressive comedy on television. Notice how I didn’t use the qualifier probably? I’m stating an opinion as a fact. That’s reckless journalism 101. A class I take due to the fact that I am in no way shape or form a journalist, this is a blog and I have to Google “Everybody/Every Body” at least once a week. Contractions are hard for some people. Get off your high horse society.

Recently, series creator Dan Harmon sat down with The Onion AV Club and discussed every season two episode of Community. It was like a DVD commentary for your eyes! Not only did I gain valuable insight into the mind of a comedic genius, but I also gained some invaluable self-doubt about my own limitations as a future television writer. And that’s what they call in the biz a two-fer.

Seriously, Dan Harmon’s review scared the three camera sitcom out of me. I recently completed a Community spec script and it was without a doubt the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to write. It was a daunting task to try and live up to the expectations of writing a clever rendition of your favorite program. I finished the script, and I’m proud of it, but it also filled me with a lot of paralyzing self-doubt during the process. I’d get frustrated with a specific story beat and look into the figurative mirror known as my computer and ask aloud to no one in particular, “Am I good enough?” My computer, being the virus toting, porn pausing, jag off that it is sadly had no words of encouragement. Reading Harmon’s self deprecating review of his own show, a show considered in some comedy circles to be the most prolific on television, was both terrorizing and uplifting. Like getting your teeth cleaned by a sexy dentist. It made me realize that everyone has self doubt; everyone from time to time thinks they’re not good enough, but you keep going, you keep writing, and eventually, you find your way. Or you don’t. I don’t know your deal. Hmm this review became a little too self serving, which is rare for a blog.

Community is brilliance personified. Watch it. Or die trying. Nope. Too far. Just watch it.

Have a great weekend knuckleheads!

Explaining Popular Cultural Trends to Your Parents

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Sun, 06 Feb 2011 18:05:00 +0000

Parents. They're adorable right? I personally love the emotive timber that consumes their voice as they call to inform you about the success of a former classmate you vaguely remember from high school. But nothing makes me want to show a complete stranger my beautiful wallet sized parent pictures (they're a combined three hundred pounds eight ounces!) more than when they try to comprehend new fangled cultural trends. Parent psychologists suggest you start educating mom and dad about hip new social tendencies at the seemingly early age of fifty-five. Anything less might accrue the unnecessary headache of not getting them into your top choice retirement center.

I’m going to write something that you might find hard to believe: your parents already know about the internet. Mind blown. They heard about it on the local news, read a story on its hidden unsavory side in Reader's Digest, or may have even been exposed to its seductive charm by watching you. Adults who use the internet have parents who use the internet.

When explaining some of the finer points of cyberspace to the parentals make sure to
correct them on any mispronunciations of colloquial internet terms. Gently remind them that saying “Your cousin Samantha met her boyfriend on one of those Facebooks” is improper diction, which statistically leads to a heightened chance of bridge club bullying. One of the fundamental miscues that veteran parents make is the mistaken idea that everything on the internet is a “blog.” In a soft, nonthreatening voice calmly explain their misconception and then reward them with a big bowl of nonfat strawberry ice-cream! After you’ve gone over the basics you can seamlessly make the transfer to the ostensibly more complicated…

Twitter. There comes a time in every adult’s life when your parents will start to notice Twitter. Just remember that it’s completely normal and use their animalistic attraction as an opportunity to have the quintessential “Twitter Birds and Bees” talk. Carefully explain that their feelings of shame and confusion are completely natural and that it’s not uncommon for people who are just discovering their own personal Twitter to Tweet up to five times-a-day. Reassure them that their behavior is completely normal but that they’ll eventually want to find another Twitter friend to practice Tweeting with. Be sure to dismiss the myth that too much self-tweeting will make you go blind.

With the enigmatic intricacies of the internet squared away you can deal with another
parental quagmire: texting. Adults find texting to be an excellent way of conveying
concise messages while simultaneously implying that they’re too busy to participate in any actual human to human contact. Parents see texting as an embryonic evil that has the potential to cut in to their ever decreasing parent-child bonding time. The easiest way to defuse this emotional landmine is to ease your parents into texting. First slowly dip their toes into the communicative waters by texting them a short, yet heartfelt message, “Miss you!” After an immediate thirty minute phone call in which you thoroughly discussed what just happened to your parents “cellular device” you will have successfully introduced them to texting! Over the next couple of weeks there’ll be some inevitable growing pains: your parents responding to a “How’s it going?” text with an actual detailed message about their day, their adorable insistence on signing their name on every single text, and their laughable overuse of exclamation points. But after a few introductory wrinkles your thirty minute “Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad” conversation can be reduced to the more concise, “Happy Anny Guys” text.

Other cultural trends like Lady Gaga, Vampires, Silly Bandz, and the popularity of Old Spice are best left for another day. Now that you have sufficiently lassoed your parents into the twenty-first century you can sit back, check your email, and pump up the volume on your I-Tunes “Satisfactory Accomplishment Mood Mix.” Congratulations! You shared the greatest gift of all with your parents, knowledge. And if you can’t give the gift of knowledge you should give someone the second greatest gift of all: an original full scale arcade sized Baywatch Pinball machine.

How to Score a Date on the Subway

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Mon, 31 Jan 2011 01:09:00 +0000

Procuring a date in a city populated by over eight million people isn’t exactly difficult. But between work, the multitude of accessible happy hours, and all of your G-Chat responsibilities who has the time to meet all of the quality women in New York City? You do. Wow. Your day just got interesting.

Famous philosopher and Aerosmith frontman Steven Tyler once said, “Life’s a journey, not a destination.” What I assume Mr. Tyler was referring to was the thousands of life altering possibilities New Yorkers pass up every day when they swipe their metro card and take a ride on the rails. Most people believe they’re only losing $2.50 and a severe loss of personal space when they ride the subway but if you follow the semi- full proof Josh Sorokach B.U.R.N. method for landing a date on the subway you’ll also lose your Friday night freestanding date with Netflix. Don’t worry, that insta-view of Teenwolf isn’t going anywhere… except the movie hall of fame under the category awesome.

Breaking the Ice

When you enter your subway car you want to immediately locate the prettiest girl and sit down beside her. The reason for this is one-fold: you want to date someone who’s pretty. (Source: Saved by the Bell reruns). Now conventional wisdom would have you offer up your seat to a nearby elderly woman thereby impressing your target. Wrong. Am I saying you should let an aging woman remain seatless? Yes, yes I am. But only for half a stop. Then “suddenly” notice her plight, indignantly let out a slightly exaggerated sigh at the lack of public assistance, and offer that damsel in distress your seat while simultaneously mentally high-fiving yourself for your perceived chivalry. Not only do you receive major “Aww” points but granny gets to park her fanny. A more apt definition of win/win has yet to be written. In your face Malcolm Gladwell.
Next, you want to make sure you have your I-Pod on as you move to step two.

Unify

In their book Click: the Magic of Instant Connections Ori and Rom Brafman discuss the concept of shared adversity as a key element in bringing people closer together. Here we put their theory into practice. First you want to locate the craziest person on the subway. Done. An inexperienced eye might look over at the man with the homemade hat yelling into a half empty can of SpaghettiOs and see pure unadulterated insanity but you see something else: opportunity. Once you recognize your future date noticing the inevitable subway lunatic you want to lock eyes with her, remove your headphones, and simply say, “New York right?” Now this seems trite and clichéd but good news! Clichés are now retro-cool so your seemingly unimaginative conversation starter is actually progressive innovative fodder (Source: Chuck Norris, Converse shoes, pogs in three years). It’s important that when you remove your headphones your target hears the song you were listening to. Maybe a little Peter Frampton Baby I Love your Way or possibly some Peter Townsend Let My Love Open the Door. You should also listen to the underrated Macy Gray song I Try. Not on this subway ride, just in general.
Which leads us to…

Respectful Self-deprecation

So you’ve initiated conversation and your perceptive target has already gleaned from your musical taste that underneath that rough exterior lies an insightful enigma that just needs the love of a good woman to turn it all around. Historically speaking men like to fix things physically while women like to fix things mentally (Source: Home Improvement reruns). It’s why the jigsaw puzzle industry is still booming despite the fact that they’re literally selling their consumers nothing more than a slow, time-consuming errand. At this point your conversation is at a critical tipping point. You need to make her laugh and appear interesting or face losing her attention to a well placed subway poster for the new CBS series The Defenders. This is where you use some subtle self-deprecating humor. You want to mock yourself but not appear as insecure as Charlie Brown. Nobody wants to date Charlie Brown. Ever.

And that leads us to the final piece of our puzzle…

Non-Date

I get it. Nobody wants to ask someone out in the middle of a crowded subway. It’s fear of rejection times, well however many people are on the subway. But my semi-full proof B.U.R.N alleviates any potential embarrassment with its final step: the Non-Date. Instead of asking out the future star of your own personal How I Met your Mother story, all you do is hand her your business card when you’re near your last stop and say something to the effect of, “In case you ever want to ride a subway together again.” Or something like that. Play around with it; have some fun out there kid! The chances of a follow up contact are over seventy-six percent! (Source: unavailable at this time.) If you follow my simple four step plan the next time you ride the subway you’ll receive a relatively cheap ride, an interesting story, and a probable first date, all for the low price of $2.50. I love New York.

My Theoretical ESPN.COM Chat

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Sun, 23 Jan 2011 22:22:00 +0000

Hey guys, sorry I'm late. Let's get right into it.

Should teams who are up by a wide margin continue to dunk late in basketball games?

Ryan Stramara – State College PA

Getting dunked on is a fantastic thrill ride for 99.9% of the general population. If I was mayor of the galaxy I would make it mandatory to dunk on anyone when any type of tangible dominance has occurred. Why is the palpable embarrassment of a good dunk limited to basketball? If you beat out a fellow employee for a raise, you get to go to the gym, get a trampoline and dunk the sh*t out of them. You beat little Suzy McCallaster in the spelling bee? Spell L-O-S-E-R McCallaster. Drag those pigtails and cute button nose to the playground Suzy Q because you’re about to get posterized. People getting dunked on makes an astounding amount of people happy and leaves only one sad sack with hurt feelings. Scoreboard Earth! Scoreboard.

I like playing football but my true passion lies in singing. Should I quit the team to join the choir?

Anthony Reali – Washington D.C.

Definitely. The television program Glee is fairly realistic. If you quit the team all of the cool kids will tease you for about five minutes a week and the rest of the time you’ll be free to make out with all the glee club girls who are astounding unpopular despite their unbelievable good looks and fairly normal behavior. Worried about one of your new shorties getting served by a member of the football team? Don’t be. High school guys are primarily concerned about what type of extracurricular activities a girl partakes in, not her level of attractiveness. A beautiful girl who could theoretically sell a hundred thousand copies of a magazine by appearing in a scantily clad schoolgirl outfit means absolutely nothing to men entering their sexual prime if one of their hobbies just happens to be singing. Go ahead and exchange that football helmet for a Kidz Bop CD and enjoy all the benefits that come with following your dreams!

Any suggestion for a new song to pump up my JV team before a game? We’re 0-8.

Wayne Lehman Schuylkill County PA

If you’re thinking in the box: Let’s Get it Started by The Black Eyed Peas. If you're thinking outside the box: The theme song from the Reggie Theus/Dick Butkus Classic TNBC show Hang Time. If you're thinking extremely outside the box: That song from the movie Cool Runnings that went something like, "Hey Jamaica we have a bobsled team."

Life on the line who’s your starting five to beat the Harlem Globetrotters?

Sydney Deane – Los Angeles California

For those of you who may be unaware the Globetrotters are a group of fun loving basketball players who travel around the globe pulling off pranks and playing basketball. Somehow, for cosmic reasons unknown, every referee in every arena in the world allow the Globetrotters to egregiously ignore even the most fundamental principals of general basketball etiquette. Needless to say you need an unconventional team to beat those unorthodox tomcats from Harlem.

PG: Julie Connor (Deering Tornadoes PG from Hang Time)
SG: Ray Allen Celtics
SF: Whoever created the video game NBA Jam
PF: Dennis Rodman
C: Bigfoot
6th Man: Reggie Miller

If there's one thing I know it's that you never, ever throw confetti on Dennis Rodman. Or Bigfoot. But definitely not Rodman.

Hi Josh, big fan of yours even though you have no discernible skills or talent, who in your opinion is the hottest Baywatch babe ever?

James R. Eal - NYC

Objectively you need to go with Pamela Anderson. In her early nineties prime she ever so gently ushered about 90% of the 12-16 year old boys into manhood. This was pre-internet days so Playboy pictures of Pamela Anderson were almost a type of currency in middle schools across the nation. Subjectively however I’d go with the contextually underrated Yasmine Bleeth. I say contextually underrated because nobody had quite the Dontrelle Willis type fall from uber-hottness grace than Yasmine Bleeth. People may forget that in that 1995-2001 range Bleeth was considered to be one of the hottest females in the world. In. The. World. How many people were in the world back then, a million? That’s pretty high praise.

While Yas-Blee may have been contextually underrated Kelly Packard (formerly of California Dreams fame..."Don't wake me UP IF I'M DREAMING") was just plain underrated. K-Pack possesses one of my personal favorite aesthetic traits: sustainable beauty. In her Baywatch days she dominated the “harder than it looks to achieve” pretty/hot scale accruing astronomical Steve Wiebe esque high scores. While the Yasmine's, Pamala's, and Carmen's of the world may have been considered hotter no one was prettier than Kelly Packard.

Also, you know who else was just plain awesome… Hobie. How was that the name of a character on a television show? Have you ever met anyone with the name Hobie in your life? Why would you do that to a child? Hobie’s fictional and yet I still feel bad for the kid. I imagine someone lost a bet during a round of rich people 1990 golf and that’s how the name Hobie came to be on Baywatch. Also, if you have a second, and chances are if you read this whole Baywatch rant you do, take a gander at Jeremy “Don’t call me Joshua” Jackson’s Wikipedia page. That guy has lived the most loca of any vida I’ve ever seen.

Hey Josh, talk about Ginkgo Biloba for a few sentences okay?

Trey Atwood - Orange County - California

No problem. Due to excessive alcohol consumption and my general lack of analytical intelligence I’ve recently researched the over the counter vitamin Ginkgo Biloba. Besides Biloba’s ability to sound like the name of a 2003 NBA European Draft bust the intended benefit is memory aid. I went to the always reliable GNC.com to do some price checking and found this helpful description:

Each extract delivers a quantified and measurable level of the targeted active ingredient in every serving. This active ingredient is considered by science to be the key ingredient responsible for the herb's health benefits.

Thanks GNC! That was extremely helpful and not at all filled with vague platitudes or cleverly disguised double talk! I’m glad GNC isn’t responsible for explaining the birds and the bees to our nation’s youth or America would have a shelf life of about one hundred and twenty more years.

Well that's going to do it for today. I have to go judge a hypothetical dunk contest between Isaiah Rider and Harold Miner! Happy Monday!

Josh Reviews Spiderman the Musical and a Starbucks Peppermint Mocha

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 03:06:00 +0000

*Reader Alert* This is a work of fiction. Alert over.

Spider-Man: Turn off the Dark is a new Broadway musical based on the Marvel Comics hero Spider-Man and yours truly scored front row tickets for last nights performance! I’ve never been a huge fan of the Spider-Man comics due to my affection for the motion picture Arachnophobia but I was still excited to see what the most expensive production in Broadway history would produce.

On my way to the theater I stopped by a Starbucks for my traditional pre-theater decaf grande coffee. While waiting in line I noticed a well dressed unattractive woman in front of me ordering what can best be described as a mesmerizing drinkable version of a Christmas carol in a cup! I asked the gargoyle what kind of amazing concoction she was holding in that meaty paw of hers and she responded a “Grepperment Thropa.” After she cleared the residual beef jerky out of her throat she restated that it was in fact a Peppermint Mocha; which made much more sense given our close proximity to the holiday season. I decided that I would order this new beverage to commemorate Christmas and possibly even Hanukkah. Also, I was cold. I thanked my rugged new friend, declined her rather thoughtful offer for a “slab o’the jerky” and continued to make my way towards the theater.

There are very few firsts that I can distinctly remember in my life. My first words? Nope. My first kiss? I sure hope I will. The first time I broke my leg? Not a chance. But I won’t soon forget the first times my lips shook liquid hands with that delectable treat known as the Peppermint Mocha. It was like drinking a weekend camping trip with my dad or throwing a football through some sort of candy cane tire swing tied to an old delicious oak tree. If given the choice between a lifetime supply of free Starbucks Peppermint Mochas or having a bi-weekly kickball game with the cast of the former WB television program Dawson’s Creek, I’d choose the Starbucks Peppermint Mocha ninety-nine out of one hundred times (one percent margin of error).

Spider-Man the musical is probably based on the premise that a man who was bit by a radioactive spider can do whatever a spider can. Due to Spider-Man’s radioactive blood he is strong and has the ability to swing from a thread. The Spider-Man movies starred Tobey Maguire, Kirsten Dunst, and James Franco.

I finished my heavenly cocktail and arrived at my seat with three minutes to spare. “This is it,” I quietly said to myself, “Spider-Man.” The questionably smelling gentleman next to me said, “What?” And I responded, “Nothing, I wasn’t talking to you.” But in a way I was talking to him. Not literally of course, he didn’t seem like anyone I would ever associate with, but in the way that we’re all connected as human beings; me, Spider-Man, and even smelly McProbablyPoor. I decided that my newfound love for Peppermint Mochas trumped my palpable indifference towards Spider-Man. I asked the Willy Loman photo double next to me if he thought I’d have time for a Starbucks run; he said no. But judging by his uneven sideburns/ JC Penny stained tie combo, this man was on a first name basis with poor decision making. So I ignored his advice, left the theater, and bought a second Grande Peppermint Mocha.

When I returned to the theater the musical had already started (that’s one for you Loman) and trying to sneak into the theater through the second floor fire escape is unsurprisingly frowned upon. My plan was to re-enter during intermission to watch the second half but apparently one of the cast members twisted an ankle. And two or three of the harness cables snapped. And one of the set pieces collapsed while another one spontaneously caught on fire. Three of the actors came down with a nasty case of food poisoning while one of the chorus members inexplicably contracted a rare case of black lung. They call those type of early performance complications "growing pains" in the biz.

A concessions stand employee with a thinning handlebar mustache and an apparent affinity for cinnamon flavored chewing gum informed me there would be no second half. Interview attempts with cast and crew were unsuccessful but Queens resident Jospeh Polanksi called the show "a waste of my pre-theater Applebees gift certificate."

I give Spider-Man: Turn off the Dark three stars due to excellent theater location, my ushers knowledge of my seat, and an overly zealous, yet admittedly efficient, second floor security staff.

This is the Story of a Girl

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Sun, 09 Jan 2011 18:13:00 +0000

When I was in 7th grade I had a teacher who used to say that "Ignorance was bliss." I had no idea what that meant so his point was perfectly defined by my adolescence idiocy. Sometimes I wish I was as blissful as I was back in seventh grade. In many ways (geography, basic spelling, the most rudimentary of mathematics, Wheel of Fortune puzzles) I still am. My story, if you can call it a story, isn't really original. Then again no love story is truly original. All love stories, no matter how complex they appear, fall into one of two fundamental categories: Requited or Unrequited. Unless your love story involves a wisecracking, slightly overweight, orange cat. Then all bets are off.

A few years ago I dated a girl. She was great. Not great in the generic sense of the word but the type of great that italics were invented to highlight. On the surface she wasn't any different from anyone I previously dated, but she was. From the outside it wasn't noticeable but in my mind she possessed an inherent ineffable quality that made me wonder how on earth I conned this amazing woman into sitting across from me.

We had an amazing first date filled with the type of fun and romance normally reserved for mid-movie montages featuring the .38 Special classic “Caught Up in You.” It was as if it was 1982 and Aphrodite drew up the perfect play for love and I was Joe Montana and she was Dwight Clark. Being a ridiculously good looking single man in New York I’ve gone on my fair share of dates, enough to know that impeccable chemistry and vague OC references that another human being actually understand doesn’t happen very often.

Unfortunately for me, Aphrodite, and the entire 1982 Super Bowl Champion San Francisco 49’ers, we stopped dating a short time later. I was sad. Not "Peter Gabriel Boombox sad" but looking back I guess I was in the neighborhood of driving around in my old 1977 Chevy Malibu talking about our breakup into a tape-recorded stage of melancholy.

I moved on. She moved on. She started dating another dude while I internally romanticized our first date as the standard for all my future first dates. I wouldn't exactly define our contrasting methods of moving on as equal but I do believe they shared a type of understated beauty in their obvious juxtaposition. I imagine that's exactly the type of answer a crazy person would give and yes, that does worry me, but let’s pick one problematic apple off the old future loony-bin tree at a time okay?

Days, months, years, even decades passed and I slowly forgot about her. Okay decades didn't pass. Let's downshift the hyperbole to third gear there Steinbeck. A significant amount of time did pass and I stopped thinking about her. I mean I thought about her sometimes. She became a card carrying member of my subconscious, the architect behind an occasional reverential smile. Life was normal. Sometimes I ate pizza. Then I checked her Facebook.

She looked happy. With another guy. Another guy not named Josh. I mean really happy; happier than I've ever seen another human being look. I gazed at her pictures of unabashed euphoria with the same type of perplexing look that a two year would give to a carburetor. Certain Facebook relationships should come complete with a surgeon general’s warning: May not be suitable for your mental health. But I wasn’t worried, not this guy. When it comes to love, loss, and alliteration I’m relatively unemotional. That wasn’t always the case but now, much like the Bluth Company I’m solid like a rock.

I like the fact that my brain has built up some sort of impenetrable protective shell around my emotive gooey center; like an exoskeleton or a stale rolo*. I knew she was dating someone else but it was more of a theoretical knowledge before Facebook. Pre-Facebook it was easy to color in the fuzzy shades of unknown gray with delusional prognostications. Thoughts like “Ahh that girl wasn't as great as you thought she was” or “she was never that pretty or interesting” could never be disproved. But now, thanks to technology, I have the convenience of logging in and having all of the lies I've told myself instantly refuted in a very un Bon Jovi like Blaze of Glory. Or, I suppose, UnGlory. It's love in the 21st century.

What Facebook made me realize is that maybe I missed out on the person who could have made me all that I can be (much like those Army commercials in the 1990s did for countless young men). Everybody has unlimited potential locked up inside them, some people just need help finding the combination. Maybe she was my key. Maybe she wasn't. Maybe our destinies are not intertwined. Maybe destiny isn't something that can be deconstructed by someone who needed thirty minutes to figure out how to fix his French Press. Maybe my complete and utter inability to come anywhere remotely close to answering any of these questions gives us the only real clarity we need. I don't know. What I do know is that I wouldn't have this uncertainty if it wasn't for Facebook. Maybe that's a good thing; it's probably not. But maybe. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.

* Which I’d still eat. Rolos, along with Whatchamacallit and 100 Grand Bars, are first ballot Underrated Candy Hall of Famers.

You Know What Also Doesn't Rhyme with Orange? 2011

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 02:30:00 +0000

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder and if that’s really the case then the internet probably loves my blog. But guess what computer fans? I’m back and ~~I’m better than ever~~ here.

I’ve missed you. I missed the way you’d email me and tell me I used a semicolon incorrectly or the way you’d make an asinine comment about something I wrote that was blatantly meant to be satirical. I miss the whole package. I haven’t really blogged in three months and when I crouch down to look into my bathroom mirror and think about life I trace the reasons back to these six things:

- If I had something I wanted to talk about Twitter was an easier and more time efficient platform.
- For the last few months I’ve been doing a semi-weekly podcast and I felt that endeavor satisfied a lot of the same creative muscles I use when I post a blog.
- I really didn’t have much to say. Twitter is an easier medium to vocalize opinions like: The Walking Dead is great! My own particular brand of elaborate critical analysis of television didn’t really lend itself to an entertaining blog post.
- I was working on a web series with Mr. Kevin Slack. We shot episodes two and three and then we sort of got away from it. Actually, here’s the link if you’re a fan of… life? Comedy? Art? I don’t know.

Josh and Dan: Second base Prostitute

The Making of Josh and Dan: Fake Kirsten Dunst (was supposed to be the behind the scenes “real life” version of the fake show. A show within a show? Brilliant Josh!

- I was working on a TV pilot script which is now essentially done. Thanks for asking!
- I got engaged! Just kidding. I didn’t. Although 90% of the people I know in real life did. Join me as I take one giant leap into the “creepy guy sitting at the kids table alone” pool.

So my new (years) plan… (hold for side-splitting laughter as we marvel in my complex word play) is to post something up here every Monday. To help you remember I came up with a charming little rhyme: Monday/Funday. I just invented that. I also just invented the idea for a paintball course that allows you and your friends to play a game of paintball against robotic versions of history’s greatest villains. The gangs all there! Hitler, Bin Laden, Denise Richards, the Russian from Rocky IV, Q*bert, and even the inventor of pogs. Or, if it’s easier, you could just add Bricks Explode to your Google reader. You wouldn’t be the first but you would be the 34th.

Sometimes I’ll post blogs, sometimes it will be an essay I wrote, other times it may be a poorly conceived screenplay idea I found in an old email to myself:

Two friends find a graveyard then go on spring break. Hijinks? A dog wearing oversized novelty sunglasses who drinks beer? Can we get Milo Ventimiglia

You never know what you’re going to get!

Listen, I know I took you guys for granted in the past but this holiday season I learned a valuable life lesson:

“No man is a failure who has friends.”

I didn’t learn that from personal experience I just watched It’s a Wonderful Life but the sentiment remains valid. I’m asking you to be my friend (on twitter).
I can’t promise I will succeed in my bid to post every Monday but I’ll promise to try. Happy 2011 internet. I love you.

Josh

Things I Googled during blog post:

Proprietor definition (I meant proponent. Take a bow Penn State educators)
strikethrough text on blogger
Pictures of Grace from Will and Grace (that was for a... blog break
Kirsten/Kristen Dunst
Budweiser dog (Couldn't remember if he wore oversized sunglasses)
It's a Wonderful Life quotes
Q-Burt pics (it was Q*bert)

The Story of Mark Loucks

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Mon, 13 Sep 2010 23:06:00 +0000

This is my unauthorized biography on my co-host/friend Mark Loucks. Since a "Mark Loucks Wikipedia page" doesn't seem to exist I had to write this using information I have obtained through knowing Mark over the last seven years.

Mark Loucks was born on or around April 24-28th 1984. He grew up in a town near Pittsburgh* Pennsylvania and had a wonderful childhood. Mark was apparently pretty athletic as a child, or so he claims. He played football and wrestled and at some point during his illustrious football career he dislocated his shoulder. According to him it "hurt." Mark's wrestling background has been brought up on too many occasions to recall but when we first moved to the city Mark would get drunk and challenge our buddy Ryan to wrestling matches. His career drunk wrestling record is 0-9-1.

* Mark fun fact 1: Mark does not collect sea shells.

Whenever the topic of a possible Josh/Mark physical fight was brought up Mark assured me of his dominance due to his apparent wrestling prowess. Personally I didn't see the correlation but Mark stated this opinion as a fact on so many different occasions that eventually I started to believe him and assumed he would kick my ass. Although I have never been kidnapped I'm assuming this is somewhat similar to Stockholm Syndrome**.

* Mark fun fact 2: If you replaced the lead singer of the 90's rock band Blessed Union of Souls with Mark I don't think that they'd be any less successful. I also don't think that they'd be any more successful though either.

Due to his self proclaimed excellence in both academia AND sports you might be led to believe that Mark was considered some kind of modern day Renaissance Man, and guess what, you are correct sir/ma'am/advanced animal. Mark also excelled in musical studies while in high school, even going as far as to join a band. I can't remember his band’s name (or if he was really in a band or just wrote music) but I imagine it would be something like Shepard's Meadow or Water Gun Armageddon; that's what I'd name my band. When we first moved in together Mark set up a Myspace page that contained some of his original music and I remember legitimately enjoying all of his songs. There was one song in particular that I really liked, I don't remember the title but I remember asking him to burn me a CD with that song on it so I could put it on my I-Pod, but he never did. Truth be told I never really forgave him for that. I suppose I could look up the song on Myspace but I feel as though my computer will catch a virus or possibly the computer equivalent to herpes if I attempt to go there. So I'll stay away. Not to disparage Myspace but I sort of feel as though it's the internet equivalent to sleeping with a prostitute.

* Mark fun fact 3: Mark makes his own belts out of equal parts ambition and whimsy... and also leather.

Mark went to college at Penn State University. Penn State is the number one ranked school in terms of academic excellence, football, fun, awesomeness, and bar make-out sessions. While studying at Penn State Mark met the who would become the most influential person in his life: Josh Sorokach. Josh was the host of the critically acclaimed student talk show Afterhours with Josh Sorokach. Mark decided to join the staff of the show and worked as a camera man/producer under the watchful eye of his mentor. After two successful seasons Josh felt his talents would be better utilized on a grander scale so he took a position at the popular NBC program Late Night with Conan O’Brien***. While no one could ever truly “replace” Josh’s inherent greatness Mark was appointed the “Chosen One” by Josh himself and took over as the new host.

* Mark fun fact 4: I have Mark ranked fourth in the "Mark" section of my brain behind Double Dare host Marc Summers, former Olympic hottie Summer Sanders, and former two sport athlete Deion Sanders. Sadly, that was my thought process when I thought of the name Mark.

After Josh conquered Late Night with Conan O’Brien he returned to Penn State for his senior year and that's when the Josh and Mark friendship train left the station. They would often go out to bars or attend social gatherings together and that's when they realized that they had undeniable chemistry. Women, however, found this chemistry very deniable. At some point during their alcohol infused senior year Mark and Josh decided that they would either move to New York or LA together. New York drew the short end of the stick and the boys decided that they would move to the big apple.

* Mark fun fact 5: His last name does not easily translate into a cool nickname. Maybe if you add a y at the end. Loucksy? No. Doesn’t work. I wish people would start calling him Mark-Lock.

After viewing countless apartments, losing a security deposit, and almost getting beat up by a crooked landlord, the boys found an apartment in beautiful Queens Astoria and got their first job as production assistants on the movie I Am Legend. They decided that while getting yelled at by New Yorkers for minimum wage for fifteen hours a day was fun, a career as a professional PA was not in the cards. After that Mark got a job at CNBC or CNN, something in New Jersey, and then eventually he got a job with VH1.

In mid 2010 Josh and Mark decided that their unquestionable chemistry could not be comfortably confined to their living room any longer, thus Hypothetically Speaking was born. It instantly became the top rated podcast in the difficult to crack "Mark and Josh's Mom" demographic. Soon after they starting podcasting Mark left his luxurious Queens apartment and moved to Brooklyn where lots of crime happens****. While I'm not going to speculate, a reasonable person might assume he moved out due to Josh's ever increasing popularity, others may say it was the allure of a woman. Nobody knows. This, along with whatever happened to the Titanic, remains the greatest unsolved mystery this planet has ever seen.

This biography is over. There will be no encore.

* That H at the end is completely unnecessary Pittsburgh. That is probably why you lost to the Braves in the 91/92 NLCS. That and Sid Bream's sweet mustache.

** I really think the NBA missed out on a huge marketing opportunity by not trying to nickname talented, yet bland, NBA great John Stockton: The Stockton Syndrome. Bounce passes can't be exciting all by themselves NBA.

*** Aka Interned at Late Night

**** Notable Brooklyn residents include: The Hamburglar, every James Bond Villain, and most of the members of the band Creed.

I Am The Blog Who Will Fight For Your Honor

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Thu, 09 Sep 2010 01:04:00 +0000

Hey blog,

How was your Labor Day weekend? Mine was fun. On Friday night I watched The Breakfast Club and ate sushi (concrete jungle where dreams are made of indeed NYC) and on Saturday I went on an impromptu road trip to Atlantic City where a fat Asian dude tried to grope the hetero out of me on the three A.M. bus back to NYC. Okay, his hands just fell on my leg while he was sleeping, but still. Things might have worked out if he was a girl and didn't smell like a sewer rat who just bathed in a beef jerky shower for the past six months. Seriously dude you smelled like rawhide. Summer dreams ripped at the seams.

Question. What is this tumbler thing and what would be the advantages of me obtaining one?

Question and answer session over.

Wait, one more...

Are you listening to my podcast? It's titled Hypothetically Speaking and is now available on ITunes? What? I know! You can go to ITunes and find me, Eagle Eye Cherry, AND the first season of something that apparently exists called Vampire Diaries. A diary from a vampire? Give me a pen, paper, twelve free hours and SIGN. ME. UP. We are living in the future.

I use capital letters and periods to really sell the joke. Bravo Josh. Bravo.

We post a new podcast every Tuesday so be sure to check it out.

Oh, and since it's 2010 and mandated by law we also started a twitter account.

Speaking of that crazy podcast I believe I will be posting something on here Monday or Tuesday that just might be directly connected to the aforementioned cast de pod. Cross promotion, I just made you my bitch.

Over the long weekend I did some reading and netflix...ing? I highly recommend the book "The Double Life is Twice as Good" by Jonathan Ames as well as the documentary "The Cove."

One is about the somewhat secretive mass murder of dolphins that takes place in Taiji Japan and the other is an essay/short story collection from a talented New York City writer. Which one is which? You be the judge. But seriously, they were both immensely entertaining for completely different reasons. I don't recommend watching one while reading the other. It's like putting your brain through the final obstacle course on Double Dare.

One final thing before I bid you farewell. I've been watching the ending of Karate Kid 2 a lot lately (let's just leave that statement alone) and, I have to say, I find it mesmerizing. Why didn't young Josh find this ending as absurd as old man Josh does? Watch for yourself...

So many things here...

1. "This not tournament, this for real." I'd be like, "Hey thanks pal. I'm going to go over there and deal with that psycho who's holding a knife to my girls throat, but dynamite job on the summation."
2. If I'm Daniel I'm thinking to myself, "Okay, as soon as this ugly UGLY man lets go of the girl and drops the knife all of these people are going to come help me right? I mean, it's a tiny three foot drop and about a foot of water. They're not really going to let two teenage kids fight to the death right?"
3. The lesson I learned? The best way to win a fight to the death is to slap punch a man until he falls down. I imagine a scene that included Daniel punching that dude to a bloody pulp was too violent but was that really the next best solution? We don't want to kick around an alternate end to the fight in the writers room for another hour? No? We're going to make it an early night? Alright.
4. "Live or die man? Die." That's just a flat out irrational response. How do you reason with a guy like that?
5. If my mentor sat back and watched as a crazy person tried to kill me over some vacation fling and a few pieces of ice you better believe I wouldn't smile back at him as he smirks from his nice safe ringside seat. I'd flip him off and tell him we're taking separate flights home. I'd probably tell my mom on him too.
6. One day when Veronica Mars and I are dancing our first dance as a married couple you better believe Peter Cetera's "Glory of Love" will be playing.

Veronica Mars was a television character? Now I know you're lying.

See you Monday/Tuesday blog. You look nice today. That top really brings out your eyes.

Here are a few phrases that have never been Googled until NOW. Enjoy.

Writing Playlist

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 16:47:00 +0000

When *trying* to write something that has any type of emotional depth I have to emo myself out. Here is my current playlist titled: Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey. All of these songs are 100% Josh approved! If you have any suggestions comment below!

Happy Wednesday

Things I've Been Digging Lately...

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 02:02:00 +0000

...My own grave (50 year old Dad joke). If that was a true dad joke it would be followed by, "Can I get you a cold one?" and a painfully didactic tour that goes over all of the inherent advantages that come with owning a brand new 2010 Saturn.

Oh dads, they love neck ties! Am I right?

I am a human being. To you dear reader I may just exist as an entity in this blog but I am so much more. For example I enjoy Kayaking. Yeah. Bet you didn't know that did you? When I'm not writing this blog I enjoy lots of different television shows, books, internet articles/videos, and other miscellaneous objects that help me feel connected to this giant ball of crazy we call Earth. Today, I'm going to share some of those things with you in a little blog post we are going to call... oh wait, you probably already read the title. And I made a bad joke about it. At least I'm consistent.

This James Franco article Who knew that James Franco was so interesting? The answer, as always, is Spiderman.

My Damn Channel: A few months ago I found this entertaining website that hosts a variety of hilarious webseries that features some hilarious people who normally reside inside of your television! David Wain, The Sklar Brothers, Sarah Silverman, Rob Huebel, they’re all there. Hanging out. Being funny. Just standing around waiting for you to kill some time on your lunch break and watch them. Don’t be rude, manipulate the keys on your computer in such a way that you visit My Damn Channel.

Oh and speaking of My Damn Channel *Shameless Self Promotional Plug Alert* A contest video that the talented (yet patently unattractive) Kevin Slack and I did is now playing on My Damn Channel. If you've ever read this blog and wondered to yourself, "Hmm I wonder what that Bricks Explode kids nipples and/or upper thighs look like" you're in luck! You can watch our video (which has to do with...THREESOMES) right here. Don't worry it's safe for work.

Speaking of My Damn Channel I’m also a huge fan of their host Grace Helbig. “G-Big” as she’s probably referred to by no one, does a daily V-log on the channel as well as a variety of other comedic endeavors. Grace’s comedy contains a rare combination of awkward self awareness and satirical, yet seemingly sincere, exuberance. You can find her daily v-logs hereish and her Youtube videos right around hereish. Or if you are extremely lazy or are somehow stuck on my page due to an elaborate email dare and/or genie, you can watch this very funny video down below:

Roller Derby: The other day I (somewhat ironically) went to a roller derby match only to discover that I (legitimately) loved it! Going into the match my knowledge of roller derby consisted of a tacit acknowledgment that Drew Barrymore, Ellen Page, and Maeby from Arrested Development made a movie about it and that it had to do with chicks on rollerskates. Wow, was my mind blown. I mean both of those things were true but it was so much fun. The crowd was great, the roller derby ladies were great, and the excitement level was… great. Note to self: invest in a thesauruses. Afterwards we went to the roller derby bar and I feebly attempted to talk to my new roller derby crush, a cute, yet feisty (if her apparent affinity for the penalty box was any indication) young professional by the name of Puss n' Glutes. Yes. I loved the name too. My attempts at chit chat and apparent plan to have her fall in love with me by making shy half drunk comments like, “My roller derby name would be International House of Pain-cakes” didn’t lead to her heart but instead almost led to me trying out for a male roller derby league. Luckily, due to my natural proclivity towards falling down, cooler heads prevailed. She did however invite me to come back to their next match in October which I can only assume is roller derby code for “I want to french kiss you.”

She's Out of My League: You know who I find heterosexually whimsical? Jay Baruchel. If you ever find yourself home alone on a Friday night with a glass of wine in one hand and a copy of “She’s Just Not that Into You” in another "She’s Out of My League" is the perfect Friday night movie for you! It’s funny, simple, and won’t make you feel bad for having that third glass of wine. And really, when it comes right down to it, when you’re sitting home alone watching a movie Friday night isn’t that all that you really want? And maybe a hug? Anyone want a hug? No on the hug? Are we sure? Okay. Alright.

A Supposedly Fun Thing that I'll Never Do Again:

A few weeks ago I went to a Chuck Klosterman reading in NYC. While reading an interview with Klosterman he said that his favorite book of the 90’s was “A Supposedly Fun Thing that I'll Never Do Again” by David Foster Wallace. It’s a great book but, whooooosh, some of it is a little over my head. ME! The guy who once spent a half hour trying to figure out how to operate a hotel shower nozzle (to be fair it was a tricky west coast shower nozzle. Those are a little more difficult).

In future funny news: I’m seething with comedic anticipation for the new Will Arnett comedy Running Wilde. The trailer looks A to the MAZING. It's the Josh pick of the season for best new television comedy (which is equivalent to one of those McDonald's coupons that are worth 1/20th of a cent). Watch it below!

Well I got to go. Comment below for good luck! Bye blog.

That's What Maryland Does

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 02:45:00 +0000

Hope everybody had a pensively fun, yet moderately productive weekend. In human terms that's the equivalent to a second year female Biology major from Pitt University. Her name's Claire. She wears glasses, listens to Michael Buble, and visibly has two stuffed animals in her dorm room but is hiding at least three more. She enjoys thousand piece puzzles more than the average person and often smells of lilacs. I hope you at least had as much fun as Claire did this weekend.

Sometimes to get from point A to point B Josh has to take the subway. And other times, Josh talks in the third person in order to show people he is a d-bag.

When riding satan's station wagon aka the NYC Transit System I generally try to keep my head down and listen to music. The reasons for this are twofold. One, I just can't get enough of the sweet vocal stylings of Joan Osborne (what if God really was one of us? Great job Josh! A joke that was barely funny in the mid-90's! Keep waiting by the phone for Hollywood to call champ) and two, 49% of the people who ride the subway are crazy people. Literally. They. Are. Crazy.

So imagine my surprise when a group of young inebriated girls entered the train and sat down next to me, three on one side, one on the other, me in the middle. It was like Spring Break 2005 Panama City except THIS time I didn't almost get arrested for claiming that the lady selling hot dogs outside the bar stole eighteen dollars from me (sadly a true story. I didn't get in trouble for arguing, it was for strongly implying that the policeman on duty was more interested in boning the cleaning lady than listening to my plight of the hot dog. I also may have implied that if he continued to do the bare minimum in life he wouldn't succeed. Oh to be young).

Anyway after switching seats with one of the young, DRUNK, ladies, she tugged on my shirt and asked me if her and I were friends. I said of course and then asked the intrepid young lady her name. She said it was Alyssa, but I wasn't sure if she said Alyssa or Melissa. When she answered that it was in fact Alyssa I let out a sigh of relief and mentioned that Alyssa is alphabetically superior to Melissa. They laughed with delight... because of the booze and possibly because they felt sorry for me.

Near the end of our epic journey my new friend randomly asked me what I thought the two best things about Maryland were. Being a young adult who grew up around 2005 I replied, "Crab Cakes and Football of course." We high fived, I got off the subway, and lost out on the potential drunk mother of my unborn children. Womp-to-the womp.

I was going to tell you another story detailing some weekend hijinks gone wrong but I ended up writing this a few days later and I forgot. BUT while going through my phone to see if there was some sort of corresponding picture that might help remind me of my story I found something pretty awesome. It should be noted that the last six pictures from my I-Phone are as followed:

6. A picture of my friend Steph holding a waffle I bought from Whole Foods
5. The picture of the waffle from Whole Foods
4. A handmade greeting card with a picture of Belle from Beauty and the Beast and Frank Sinatra I made for my Nana’s birthday. (Happy Birthday Nana! Although you don't use the internet so you will never see this!!!!)
3. A picture of a tattooed man on the subway with the word P.I.T.Y. tattooed on each finger on his left hand and F.O.O.L. on his right. I swear I’m not making that up. I’d post the picture but it’s a little blurry but take my word for it.
2. A letter from my cousin Ian that was addressed "Sir Josh Sorokach" so I took a photo before I opened it up because I had no clue who it was from or what was inside.
1. And this picture of a movie I found on the streets of NYC. It looks like the worst movie idea ever conceived by anyone who can technically be described as a human being and I would pay five hundred dollars to watch a documentary about how this movie got made from pitch to completion…

Yep. The economy is down the tubes but we still have enough money for this piece of cinematic brilliance to be made. Here is the Wikipedia summary:

When fluffy bubble-gum movie star Megan Valentine (Jessica Simpson) suddenly finds herself broke and humiliated in the public eye, she wanders from the wreckage of a car accident and witlessly enlists in the U.S. Army, hoping in vain that it will change her life. The spoiled actress immediately finds herself at odds with her tough drill sergeants and the harsh discipline of Army life, leading to many humorous situations. In the end, however, Valentine wins the respect of her fellow trainees, and they all graduate together.

Netflix get ready for a new number one at the top of your queue. In all honesty I'm probably going to watch that movie at some point. There's just some kind of wonderful joy that comes from having a few alcoholic beverages and watching a truly horrible movie.

Also, what kind/type of rock bottom do you have to hit that you sold the movie "Private Valentine" for some extra cash? How much did Blockbuster pay for that? A quarter? You could literally make more money by rummaging through a garbage can for five minutes.

Alright here a few more “Phrases that have never been Googled.” Yay! Trumpet noises! Smiles! French Kissing! Me going too far!

I hope your week is a paradigm of transcendental bliss...

Or at least average...

Bye Blog.

Garden Blog

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 02:11:00 +0000

Hi blog.

Does anyone out there know anything about cacti? I'm cactus sitting for a friend, well, she left for Asia about a year ago so actually I guess the cactus is now legally mine. I'm not a cactus lawyer so I don't know the ins and out of cactus law but I assume I've taken over the role of primary care giver. Anyway the cactus looks like this:

** And yes that box man figure is a real thing that I have on my desk (coincidentally it was a gift from the same young lady who left me (abandoned?) her cactus). I also have a Dexter bobblehead on my desk but I don't know where he was during our photoshoot. Maybe he was off somewhere killing a Benjamin Linus bobblehead.

Horrible joke.

** Also the box man looks sad, like he's being held hostage. It's a picture boxxy, smile!!

Back to the cactus. Yikes. I water the little guy (girl?) twice a week and I try to put him (her?) by the sun. The cactus looks quasi healthy but it also appears to be growing horizontally which would be totally acceptable in bizarro world but here, on planet earth, I find it odd. Any tips? If anything I probably over water it, so cactus, if you read my blog, I'm sorry for loving you too much. I killed you with kindness, which I always thought was a good thing, but now I know the sad reality of that seemingly happy sentiment.

Also I tried to just straighten out the cactus myself but as any avid cacti fan already knows, they are prickly biotches. Physically, not mentally of course. So when I tried to manually straighten it out I was rewarded with pain. There is probably a metaphorical life lesson embedded in that story but I don't think I'm adroit enough to figure it out... yet I'm smart enough to use the word adroit... Josh Sorokach the enigma train starts and ends with you good sir.

Two random things:

1. If I take a lot of vitamins, and I mean a lot, could I obtain super powers? Fifty Vitamin C, forty Vitamin B, and a handful of Vitamin E could equal x-ray vision?! Right? I mean who knows how science works? It's a mystery.

Remember back in 1997 when Meredith Brooks wrote the popular lady power ballad Bitch? (I don't know what a lady power ballad is but I imagine the song Bitch qualifies.) How many times do you think that song is brought up when she fights with her boyfriend?

MB: Are you listening to me?
BF: Yes, I'm listening. You said you thought ice cream might be a nice treat tonight.
MB: I didn't say it like that
BF: Honey don't you think you are overreacting?
MB: No, I think you are under reacting
BF: Really? You don't think you are making too much of this? I mean you did write a song that clearly stated that sometimes you are a Bitch (and a lover but that part isn't relevant to the convo)

Anybody else think about stuff like that? No? Just me? Why yes I do enjoy Campbell's soup for one. Why do you ask? Oh...

Sad face

I'm going to end this blog with a new segment (if blogs can have segments) where I try to Google something that has never been Googled before, sort of like a 2010 version of the scene in Garden State when Natalie Portman does that oddly cute dance so she can feel original.

Stop being so pompous Google; you're not perfect either. Sometimes you freeze.

If you like this blog maybe you could pass it on to a friend or casual acquaintance? If it's an acquaintance you just added something to talk about in those long awkward elevator rides (high five). If not, hey, no pressure, we're cool. I know I hurt you in the past with the not posting and the blatant lies about having cholera. I get it. I'm just glad you dropped on by.

Happy whatever day I decide to post this!

P.S. If you want to get real crazy you can follow me on twitter (it's a social networking site, it was featured on Entertainment Tonight once. You didn't see that episode? It was fan-freaking-tastic).

Real Conversations

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 16:22:00 +0000

I almost titled this blog "Reel Conversations" because I like it when people use punny homonyms in titles. Like, for example, "The Bear Necessities." That is probably the title of an animated movie about a well intentioned bear who loses everything in his bear life and has to adjust to living within his simpler, less expensive, bear means. It sounds like a crappy movie but I'd probably see it simply based on the title alone. Ultimately I went against the title of "Reel Conversations" because in no way shape or form are we going to be having any conversations about a film reel, a dance reel, or a fishing reel. So if you decided to use your lunch break to read about fishing reels, well, keep it moving sister.

Happy 5th of July! Poor July 5th, always the brides maid never the bride. Stuck between the birthdays of the two most awesome things in the world: America and... ME! Yes by using your deductive reasoning skills you have most likely discerned that my birthday is July 6th! I am going to be 28 years young. I don't have a wife, a writing job, or a pet tiger named Manny, but fear not fourteen year old Josh's life wish list of things to achieve by thirty because I do have a BLOG! That I update monthly! That most people have given up on! Good thing I ordered one hundred noise makers for my birthday! (The sound of one hundred noise makers!!!!!! You can't hear it because this is not an audio blog and also I don't think those presently exist.)

I'm just kidding life is grand. I'm shooting episodes two and three of my brand spanking new webseries this week AND I found three Jack Johnson "free music" cards from Starbucks in my pocket! If we can all channel our inner Footloose for a second and "Let's hear it for the boy!" (Me). If you would like to give me a birthday present (and the mere fact that you are still reading this extremely pointless and unnecessarily long opening means that you do) you can tell your friends about this blog? Or podcast? Or my twitter? Right? Then, when this webseries goes platinum we can hold cyber hands and talk about memories past!

I don't know why most of those sentences ended with question marks. I really don't. Truth be told, most of this, aka all of this post, was written a week ago while this part right............... here.......... was written after the fourth of July.... while under the influence of alcohol!!!! Yay beer! Also, quick story. The dude next to me on the subway tonight was wearing a completely see through mesh shirt WHILE sitting next to his wife. So this lady, at some point in her life, was like, "Hey, this guy seems like a guy I want to MARRY. Never mind the fact that he is thirty pounds overweight and is wearing a see through mesh tanktop, that's completely normal. Let's get married and sit next to Josh and make out in front of him. I hope you both get ugly person crabs. Back to the blog I wrote before...

This should have been the opening to the blog:

Hello blog! A lot of you (okay none of you) often times ask me about my day to day life. Well, sometimes I e-mail, IM, or carrier pigeon people while I'm living my well balanced, yet nutritional, life. Sometimes those exchanges are weirdddddd. Here are a few examples!

Convo 1:

Joshua Sorokach [3:37 PM]:
Straight dudes Youtube Sarah McLaughlin “Building a Mystery” too right?
Joshua Sorokach [3:37 PM]:
Like, not all the time
Joshua Sorokach [3:37 PM]:
Obviously
Joshua Sorokach [3:37 PM]:
But every now and again?
Joshua Sorokach [3:37 PM]:
?
Kevin Slack [3:37 PM]:
No
Kevin Slack [3:37 PM]:
Never
Kevin Slack [3:37 PM]:
Ever
Joshua Sorokach [3:37 PM]:
Yeah...
Joshua Sorokach [3:37 PM]:
I don’t do that
Joshua Sorokach [3:38 PM]:
A friend of mine was asking me
Joshua Sorokach [3:38 PM]:
Just confirming
Joshua Sorokach [3:38 PM]:
I Youtube beer commercials and nacho ads

Convo rating: 4 My manliness rating: -3

Convo 2: An E-mail

To: Matt Stahr
From: Josh
Subject: This ever happen to you?

Sometimes when I have nothing to say to the person that’s talking to me I just start talking about what day it is. Like today someone was talking to me and I didn’t know what to say so I responded with, "Yep, well it's Thursday." My small talk has eroded into dust.

To: Josh Sorokach
From: Matt Stahr
RE: This ever happen to you?

I've never done that, but I like it. It's subtle, but it gets the point across like, "Hey, I'm not listening to you, and this is my way of saying so while still being nice to you and not creating a scene."

Convo Rating: 6 Relevance to life rating: 2

Convo 3:

Joshua Sorokach [2:41 PM]:
Hey there is a rumor going around that you insulted my honor
Kevin Slack [2:42 PM]:
No rumor
Kevin Slack [2:42 PM]:
It’s truth
Joshua Sorokach [2:42 PM]:
In the old days I would challenge you to a duel
Joshua Sorokach [2:43 PM]:
And shoot your stupid face full of bullets
Joshua Sorokach [2:43 PM]:
You’re lucky this is 2010
Kevin Slack [2:44 PM]:
You aren’t anywhere near bright enough to operate a gun
Joshua Sorokach [2:48 PM]:
I’m going to ignore that for a second
Joshua Sorokach [2:49 PM]:
This lady who I’m talking to overwhelmingly smells like a flower shop
Kevin Slack [2:49 PM]:
Yum
Kevin Slack [2:49 PM]:
You should court her
Joshua Sorokach [2:49 PM]:
But somehow it's not in a good way
Joshua Sorokach [2:50 PM]:
Courting went out around the time of the duels
Joshua Sorokach [2:50 PM]:
Lucky for both her and you
Kevin Slack [2:50 PM]:
They should bring both back
Joshua Sorokach [2:51 PM]:
Also I’m not an idiot I’ve operated BB Guns, squirt guns, and a lot of nerf products that were essentially guns
Joshua Sorokach [2:51 PM]:
They actually should bring back duels
Joshua Sorokach [2:52 PM]:
Maybe that would stop people from acting like insane rabies ridden animals in this horrible city
Joshua Sorokach [2:52 PM]:
I actually like NY I don’t know why I said that
Kevin Slack [2:52 PM]:
b/c you are an angry person
Joshua Sorokach [2:57 PM]:
I’m not angry I just don’t like people who overwhelmingly smell like flowers

Convo Rating: 6.5 Nerf Bow and Arrow Rating: 10

Convo 4: Email

To: Jon Sinaw
From: Josh Sorokach
Subject: Pick up your f'n phone moron

When you don’t pick up your phone 8 dolphins die

RE: Jon Sinaw: What happens when you don't pick up your phone?

RE: Josh Sorokach: Dogs play poker

RE: Jon Sinaw: Sweet! I’m in, what’s the ante?

RE: Josh Sorokach: You’re not a dog dude so they won’t let you play in the game. One time, some human sat in under some unknown pretense and that guy was never heard from again. His name, famous actor Tom Hanks.

RE: Jon Sinaw:

Convo Rating: 7 Sinaw's use of photos rating: 9.5

Convo 5:

Joshua Sorokach [2:45 PM]:
Hey
Joshua Sorokach [2:45 PM]:
Small critique
Kevin Slack [2:45 PM]:
Bye
Joshua Sorokach [2:45 PM]:
Don’t ever…
Joshua Sorokach [2:45 PM]:
Okay no
Joshua Sorokach [2:45 PM]:
This convo wasn’t over
Joshua Sorokach [2:46 PM]:
Don’t ever contridict me in front of our co-workers
Joshua Sorokach [2:46 PM]:
These people look up to me as their leader
Kevin Slack [2:46 PM]:
Contradict*
Joshua Sorokach [2:46 PM]:
...

Convo Rating: 8 My stupidity rating: 9.8

Bye blog.

The RiTTler

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Thu, 24 Jun 2010 04:43:00 +0000

I was listening to the old I-Pod today when I heard the song Kathleen by Josh Ritter. I’ve probably listened to this song about a hundred times or so and it’s great; a solid song. I rarely skip it, but then again I don’t really ever seek it out either. It tis but a blip on the complicated musical radar that lives in between the slightly enlarged ears of Josh Sorokach. And by complicated musical radar I mean all Counting Crows music, most Bon Jovi ballads, and the song Safety Dance. I’m a fan of any song that advocates the fact that you can dance, you know, if you really want to (RIP Footloose joke that was edited out for flow). Anyway, up until today I didn’t particularly hold the song Kathleen in any type of exceptional regard, but sometimes you can see or hear something that you’ve experienced a hundred times before and feel as though you’re experiencing it for the very first time (cue the "more you know" music). I’ve bolded the parts that C&C Music factoried my brain and made me go hmm…

all the other girls here are stars—you are the Northern Lights
they try to shine in through your curtains—you're too close and too bright
they try and they try but everything that they do
is the ghost of a trace of a pale imitation of you
I'll be the one to drive you back home Kathleen
this party is made with the night air and the chance that a smile
will wind its way from your face to one of the boys in your line
you act like you're hip to their tricks and you're strong
but a virgin Wurlitzer heart never once had a song
I'll be the one to drive you back home Kathleen
and I'll have you back by break of day
I'm going your way anyway
and if you'd like to come along
I'll be yours for a song
I know you are waiting and I know that it is not for me
but I'm here and I'm ready and I've saved you the passenger seat
I won't be your last dance just your last goodnight
every heart is a package tangled up in knots someone else tied
I'll be the one to drive you back home Kathleen
so crawl up your trellis and quietly back into your room
and I'll coast down the length of your drive by the light of the moon
and the next time I see you—a new kind of hello
both our hearts have a secret only both of us know
‘bout the night that I drove you back home Kathleen

When dealing with potential new mates you’re always going to have to navigate around emotionally sensitive landmines someone else left behind. This, more than likely, is what Pat Benatar meant when she said that “love is a battlefield.” The song Kathleen’s literal theme (of a guy trying to get a girl to do the humpty hump) is juxtaopsed with an almost translucent lyrical beauty that creates a cognitive dissonance that is not only brilliant, but also beautiful in its complexity. I sat back and listened to this song and it made me happy, not because it makes me think of anyone in particular, but because that someone (presumably Josh Ritter) somewhere wrote this song with a specific person in mind, and I think that’s pretty amazing.

People tend to think that I'm an anti relationship which is patently untrue; I am however anti the universal ideal that you have to be with somebody all the time. I think a lot of people remain in average relationships because it's better than the alternative of being alone, and I guess I can understand that. Some people find their "Kathleens" (nope to corny, I’m starting that sentence over). A lot of people find their ideal companion earlier than others, which is great. I assume the reason why some people are alone longer than other people will eventually become evident in the future; at least I hope that’s the case. That has to be the case right? If not the universe is just a collection of random events and that would sort of suck. No, there’s definitely a method to the madness, trust me. If there’s someone who knows the answers to life's most complicated questions it’s Josh Sorokach; the guy who drunkenly fell asleep in two separate bushes, a dump truck, and on top of a van in the middle of Arkansas. BUT, not in the same night. Point Josh.

When people ask me, "Josh what are you looking for in a girl?" I tell them that all I want is someone funny, pretty, original, interesting, kind, and dates me because of a bet she makes with her too cool for school popular friends so that I can dramatically say, “Was I bet? Was I a BLEEPING bet?” Yes, I want to be Rachel Leigh Cook from She’s All That. Okay not really, I want to be Freddie Prince Jr.

What I do know for sure is that I would rather spend a week with someone that elicits the type of emotion that this song conveys than a lifetime with someone that I kind of, sort of, love. I suppose that this kind of idealism might universally be thought of as unrealistic, but I disagree. I know plenty of people in relationships that just make sense. The two people fit together like a very simplistic two piece jigsaw puzzle of a heart. It's definitely possible to achieve and in the end I think it just comes down to faith; the belief that on any given day you can meet someone who can completely change the way you look at the world. And I don’t know about you, but I think that’s pretty extraordinary.

Tune in next week when Josh listens to the song Mmmbop and writes ten thousand words on the meaning of life.

I Oughta Know

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Mon, 21 Jun 2010 01:27:00 +0000

Hello attractive blog readers, happy Monday/Sunday Night/Whenever you are reading this! I was figuratively touched by a few e-mails I received from a group of dedicated readers who seemed happy about my Ali-like return to the blogosphere, so I decided to reward those kindhearted people (and also reward all of you who haven’t e-mailed me which doesn’t seem very fair but it’s a flawed system I suppose) with a Monday blog (turn your computer volume down because I’m about to sound the celebratory trumpets…. TOOT TOOT).

Wow that last sentence may be the capital city in the state of lame.

Let’s kick things off bullet point style; the toughest sounding style ever created. Sorry paragraph. In tonight's episode the role of bullet point will be played by a dash.

- I want to create a TV show called Bad Television. It would be a thirty minute show that would feature mini episodes of really horrible television ideas because deep down I think we all sort of love bad television. So each week there would be three seven minute pilots. For example, episode one would have the following three shows:

Hot Fudge: A tale about an attractive ice cream store attendant who is a part time treasure hunter. She may or may not have a sassy sidekick.

That’s My Caveman: An unfrozen caveman is found my two sixteen year old boys and they decide to try and pass him off as a new high school student. Wait a minute… I just accidentally re-created Encino Man.

And finally…

Nuts and Bolts: A renegade cop (Lost's Josh Holloway) who has a propensity for the entertaining combination of danger and shirtlessness is forced to team with a straight laced, overly neurotic detective (Earth's Paul Reiser) who plays things a little too close to the vest. Together these mismatched heroes try to clean up the menacing streets of New York City while trying to solve their toughest case yet... love.

- Has anyone ever said the word bada-bing without saying bada-boom shortly after? Probably not. I love co-dependent words.

- While out karaoking on Friday night (and by karaoking I mean humming in the background while my more talented friends sing the hits) I discovered that I can do a pretty spot on impression of Alanis Morissette singing You Oughta Know. Now I imagine that my new found skill will not only be lucrative, but it will also be an important tool that I can use to help heal this wounded nation of ours. In other news I hope Alanis Morissette isn’t so angry anymore. Smile Morsey!

- For all of you podcast lovers out there Mark and I will be recording another podcast Monday night so guess whose Tuesday afternoon at work just got a whole lot better?? Here’s a hint, it’s you! If you have any hypothetical situations (because that is what our podcast is about knuckleheads) post away in the comments or come find me on the streets of New York. The comments thing is probably easier but to each his/her own.

- I think calling someone a knucklehead in a playful way is adorable.

- I don’t like people who prematurely start a conversation, I call them pre-cons. An example:

Josh: Hey casual acquaintance Mike!
CA Mike: The thing I hate most about the Lakers winning is that Ron Artest now has a championship ring.

Woah slow down there St Elmos! Where’s the fire? I don’t need a giant preamble (Josh is smart! Wait… preambles usually refer to documents… Josh is dumb...frown) but I do need to be wined and dined a little bit when it comes to our conversation. So, in closing, to the people I interact with... act more like a human being.

- It’s now time for “Full Disclosure Sunday!!!” This morning I woke up and watched two episodes of Roswell season 3. You might remember this former WB gem from your formative years, especially if you weren’t very popular. After I watched these episodes I felt sad. Don’t get me wrong I waste a lot of time throughout the day but this was the first time that I truly felt like I let planet Earth down. Sorry Earth. I’ll plant a tree or start fighting crime in order to make it up to you. We cool?

Well that’s all the time we have for today blog friends. I have to be on set tomorrow at 5 a.m.?! Yikes. Have whatever the opposite of a Manic Monday is. A low key Friday? Sounds good to me.

End blog.

Running Down a Dream

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Wed, 16 Jun 2010 03:00:00 +0000

I should preface this by saying that I’m not really a runner. Or a sprinter. Or a jogger. I should also preface that last statement by saying hello, but the delete key is not a member of the home row so sacrifices have to be made people.

The following story is one-hundred percent true and twenty-five percent interesting. While these events technically happened the context in which they happened may have been completely created by my imagination. Other things created by my imagination have included: steak ice pops (not as disgusting as they sound when mixed with a little A-1 on a hot summers day) and Vampire Elvis (a dangerous concoction of evil my seven-year-old brain created after a few late night television experiences gone awry).

So I went to the gym the other night; I try to start most of my conversations off like that. I like to make people wonder what exactly is going on underneath that old school Charlotte Hornets t-shirt I bought from Urban Outfitters. I imagine they think to themselves, “Josh doesn’t necessarily look buff, but who knows? Maybe he’s hiding abs underneath that casually cool (yet reasonably priced) t-shirt that could grate the hell out of a block of cheese.

Side note. Don’t use bellies, no matter how fit they may appear, to grate cheese. It’s not only unsanitary, but it’s also quite disgusting. It’s also not very practical. Go to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and buy yourself a cheese grater. You work hard, you’ve earned it.

Normally when I go to the gym I might run for a mile, do some weights, visit the water fountain fifteen times, think about a push-up or two, and call it a day. I generally don’t run more than a mile or two because, as any running enthusiast will tell you, running becomes increasingly more difficult the longer you do it. But today was different. I noticed a female running on the treadmill who I can only define to you as “Josh Cute.”

Trying to define “Josh Cute” is futile; it would be like trying to define a beautiful piece of art that you see at a museum, art dealership, or upscale yard sale.

Note to self: Upscale Yard Sale would be a fantastic name for my unformed band.

But if I were to draw you a mental picture of what the term "Josh Cute" encompasses, it would be some sort of combination of the following:

I decided to jump on the treadmill next to my favorite raven haired runner (who will henceforth be called Katie) So there I was, doing a little running, rocking out to some Pink on my I-Pod… err… I mean Jay-Z, when I notice that Katie looks over at me (score! First base!) and pumps up the volume (gym slang that I just made up for turning up the speed on a treadmill). So I do the same thing. I look over at my running companion (aka future bride) and notice two things: she only started running a minute before me, and two, she is wearing some sort of sophisticated/futuristic footwear. The type of sneakers that Judy Jetson would wear if she needed to workout (but she doesn’t because she is naturally fit… genetics). Katie looks over again, gives me a sly smile, and PUTV (abbreviated gym slang for Pumps up the Volume) to 6.2. It was on like an accelerated version of Donkey Kong.

You see I’m classified as somewhat of an oddly competitive person. Sports video games, Monopoly, arcade basketball, poker, I’m hyper competitive in those events; talking to girls, succeeding in life, general intelligence… not so much. So right then and there I decided that this girl will not outrun me. Never mind the fact that I’ve never ran more than a mile and a half without stopping and walking, this girl, on this day, would not beat me.

The first mile came and went without any fanfare. I'd look over at her, she'd glance back at me, it was like a mental game of truth or dare, except this time I didn't pay one of my friends to "randomly" make me kiss a girl. Around the mile mark my legs started to tense up a bit, which tends to happen when you spend the better part of your adult life avoiding any type of physical work. Lucky for me my I-Pod “workout mix" instinctively knew I was in trouble and started to play Christina Aguilera's Dirty. I mean... ehh screw it; it's a great song to run to.

After mile two I was essentially running on empty but noticed that Katie had the same look in her eyes that most of my dates have after hour three of our second date: apathetic dejection. Before I knew it she slowed down her pace, walked a few steps, and exited the treadmill. I mentally did a Michael Jordan esque fist pump and prepared to exit stage left, my dignity intact. I was all set to hop off the old treadmill and piddle paddle over to see what the old ten pound weights were up to when I noticed that a second attractive girl had started running next to me on my right side and was also looking my way (or more likely stretching her neck). Luckily my I-Pod knew that my deteriorating physical condition was somewhere between "nonexistent" and "he looks like he might pass out" so it heroically played the clutch trio of Eye of the Tiger, You're the Best Around, and Blaze of Glory. I sucked it up, ran another mile, finished with a three mile time of 29:41 (which is a fantastic time for a seventh grade female with a slight to severe case of asthma) and went home to retire in glory, much like the ending to the old Nintendo video game Paperboy.

Podcast 4

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Thu, 10 Jun 2010 03:05:00 +0000

Hey everybody! A brand new podcast (episode four if you are counting at home or you dislike blog titles) is now streaming? (is that the right word) on I-Tunes. Just search Hypothetically Speaking, download it (and subscribe while you're in the neighborhood), and have an eargasm at all the hilarity that will ensue.

Studies show that listening to podcasts while at work increase productivity by 44% and overall attractiveness by 510%. So listen up!

Or if you hate I-Tunes because it's done you wrong in the past (looking in your direction $9.99 worth of Hootie & the Blowish music on my I-pod) you can click here.

Thanks for stopping by!

New Podcast?!

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Fri, 21 May 2010 20:12:00 +0000

I love the exclamation point/question mark greeting. It's so provocative. Is it an exciting statement? A question? Guess what sports fans... it's BOTH.

Mediocre introductory statement... check.

Here is the third instalment of the Hypothetically Speaking podcast! You can subscribe on I-Tunes by going to I-Tunes and figuring out how all of that mumbo-jumbo works. Or you can click here. Or you can play the embedded player below. Or you can follow me on twitter. So many ways to hear me, I'm just like a Cher concert. Today's topics from Mark's audibly chiseled pipes and my squeaking voice include:

Could I beat Tiger Woods in a mini golf match?
How much money would it take for you to dress like a pirate for one year without any explanation?
And a lot of talk about Aladdin, me playing in the NFL, flying, REM, and the movie My Giant. Enjoy!

Podcast

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Thu, 06 May 2010 01:37:00 +0000

Hey everybody! Wow how you've grown! I hardly even recognize you with that new haircut of yours. Did you lose weight? What? You gained weight? Well you put on the pounds in all of the right places from where I'm standing. Sorry for the delay in posts. I've been on a submarine on this deserted island for the past few weeks. It was fun but a little hectic. All my friends were dying, there was a plane crash or two, some time travel, a nuclear bomb, and oh yeah a big cloud of smoke that mercilessly slaughtered people. I almost forgot about that little scamp. Anyway I'm back in the land of the living and ready to resume my career as a touring member of the moderately successful band Drive Shaft.

If you don't watch Lost you probably stopped reading a long time ago. Actually, you probably stopped reading regardless. Double actually you probably aren't even reading this right now because I update this website every four months. Right now the only humans reading this are my mom and a few desperately disappointed teenage boys with a predilection towards crappy spelling and porn.

So for the six of you who used to enjoy this blog my roommate and I created a brand new podcast titled Hypothetically Speaking! Podcasts are new to the internet and planet earth in general. As of the time of this posting only about four to eight exist, so get in on the ground floor on the greatest culture phenomenon ever invented! (Sorry microwaves)

The premiere episode asks: Could I get a base hit during a major league baseball season? Which survivor from Lost would you like to be stranded on an island with? And how many kittens would it take to beat LeBron James in a game of basketball? Some people cure diseases or fight crime to make the world a safer place, I do this. Yet another, in a long line of setbacks, for Penn State University.

The podcast can be found here, or on I-Tunes, or right below the word pirate.

Pirate

For up to date information and grammatically incorrect insights on sports and pop culture you can follow me on Twitter. Or you can choose to ignore me. Just like everyone else in my life. Cue music for my Lifetime movie tentatively titled: Josh Sorokach: His Courage was Found in Tears. Starring Henry Connick Jr. as Josh Sorokach and Jennifer Love Hewitt as Jennifer Love Hewitt.

Don’t Google and drive internet,

Josh

New Blog

noreply@blogger.com (The Franchise) — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 03:22:00 +0000

Have you ever thought to yourself, "Patrick, (I'm just assuming that everyone who reads this blog is named Patrick) that Bricks Explode kid needs another blog that he can neglect"? If your answer to that question is yes then you are in luck Patrick. I have created yet another blog in which to ignore, infuriate the masses, and generally take away some of the allure and scholastic power of the term "College Graduate." This "concept blog" was created from a moment of pure tomfoolery while at work (and no, even though I used the term tomfoolery I do not work in 1920's Savannah Georgia).

You can find my very first entry right here...

In other news...

A blogger (presumably named Carly) over at Carly Googles credited Bricks Explode as a source when she Googled the term "who is valentino manic monday." To answer her musical query Carly used Bricks Explode and Wikipedia and when referencing her sites she wrote:

Source: Bricks Explode, Wikipedia

Look at that. Read it again. Take that 8th grade math teacher who said that I would never amount to anything. "Josh has difficulty grasping the concept of Cosines?" Well you can Cosine my balls all the way to the bank. I'm living large next to Wikipedia! Ever heard of it?

I'm twenty-seven years old and due to my rather acerbic temperament and deep affinity for both leisure activities and pajama pants I'm probably not going to get married or win an Emmy any time in the near future, so this is what I will celebrate at the start of 2010. When someone in the world needs unsubstantiated answers to nonsensical pop culture questions, I'm your guy.