- -

- - -

UT I I HI I

IIII~IIIIISN

TilliE

magine going out and partying HARD. I'm talking bingedrinking and administering drugs through your butthole (they
work faster that way). Now imagine waking up the next day in all
your clothes, ragingly hungover, in a stranger's house, and someone immediately asks you to recount the events of the previous
evening.
You can't. It's simply impossible.
That's kind of like this book. I can't remember a lot of details
about what happened to me, so some of the stuff definitely
happened, some of it kind of happened, and then some of it
absolutely, positively, never happened at all. What can I say; I'm
an idiot. Sorry.
So everyone just relax, and don't freak out about the accuracy
of every tiny detail. Take it all with a grain of salt. Don't be a dick.
Enjoy!

~RIIIIE

0~~~11()

hen Fat Jew first asked me to write the foreword to

his book, I was humbled and honored. He is a man of many talents and he'd already told me that he'd read one of my books, so
he knew what kind of a writer I was. So I felt validated by him
asking me, author to author, as well as man to man.
The one thing that everyone needs to know about Fat Jew: He
is one funny dude. He will have you laughing out loud within
minutes of hanging out. I know a lot of funny guys, but this one
really gets me going. That being said, I wasn't exactly sure what
kind of book he was going to come at me with. But I was surprised to find that this book is much more of a real memoir than I
would have expected. Josh has really put his life out there on the
page for all to see. Sure, there are still the hilarious and ridiculous

,,

moments that you'd expect from a guy named Fat Jew, but there
are also some seriously heart-warming stories about family and
relationships as well.
Josh has accomplished a lot of things over the past few years.
He is a true businessman in every aspect of the word. He has a
social media empire, a very successful wine business, a television

career, and now he has written a really impressive book. Like me,
he is an "Ideas Man." He is constantly thinking about ways to
monetize and brand himself. I can really relate to that. He has an
idea, then he immediately starts to figure out how to make it a reality. Ambitious, strong willed, and hungry. All of these traits can
describe this funny man, who has the body of a human Shrek,
and the hair of a giant adult baby.
I honestly couldn't stop reading this book, and I don't think
that you will be able to either.
I'm all about people pursuing their hopes and dreams. Most
people are too afraid to reach for the stars. They are afraid that
they are going to be burned, and I get that. But when I come across
someone who has no fear, who finds the love of god (or whatever
you feel like calling it) inside their heart and uses that to create
good in this world .. .I applaud that courage. Fat Jew makes me
proud to be an American.
Tyrese Gibson
August 2015

IIIIINTIIII~

IIIIOUCTIIIII N

I GOT A
BOOK DEAL/
THE WORLD
IS ENDING
Hahhahahahah I wrote a book.
The fact that I actually wrote a book still amazes me and my
mom, and my dad, and pretty much anyone who has ever met
me. And it wasn't easy. I slaved over this thing. I started working
on it the very day that I got the book deal. Sort of.
I was sitting in the office of my literary agent (hahahahahaha
I have a literary agent, why??) waiting to sign the contract for my
book. This book. The one you're reading right now, where I compare myself to Steve Jobs on the cover. It was a surreal moment.
The fact that someone would actually pay me real dollars to write
a book makes me LOL, hard. I sat in my agent's office, staring at a

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

J OS H "THE F AT J E W" OS TR OVSKY

signed photo of him and Bill Clinton, noticing that we've reached

Congrats dude. Forget t he melting polar ice

caps, this is the worst thing to happen to
our planet

a bizarre fucking time in our culture when people like me, who
don't really have a legitimate reason to be famous or write a book,
are getting amazing opportunities to write books.
"You should be really proud. You really earned this

They are paying you in money? LOL

@~

deal. You're really talented," my agent told me.

Are you buying the coke? u know u owe me
4 all the years u were poor

"I mean, I guess I kinda earned it by building up a

big audience on social media. But writing a whole book seems like
a fucking daunting task."

Once we were all gathered at Julius (a gay bar for tough gay

"You'll be fine . It's not that hard."

dudes who watch sports and can kick your ass), I knew I was in

That seemed like it was good advice. That's what I pay him the

for an epic night of drugs and debauchery. My friends are the lit-

eral worst, in the best possible way. Once I got four or five whis-

big bucks for. To tell me how great I am.

That night I was getting very pumped. It did feel like all the

keys in me, I began to poll them about what they really thought

work I'd been doing for the past few years had been validated. It

about me being an author. We stepped outside the bar to smoke

f!I!jf

had paid off.

cigarettes and a joint that was unnecessarily large (like cartoon-

So I sent out a group text to all of my boys.

ishly so, but like so big it was mechanically difficult to deal with
and ended up being annoying and I wished it was smaller). I
guess now would be a good time to explain that that night can be
broken down into drug phases. It will help you, the reader, better
. understand where I was emotionally throughout the evening.

The responses from my friends were very typical.

Let's call this

DRUG PHA.5E: 1Of THE: EVENING:

Fuck you. I hate you. I'll be there in 30

!~E ~EIIO V~n~

s we smoked on the corner, my buddies shared some fun ideas

My mom wrote a book once. It literally won

the Pulitzer. But good luck

for me about how I should go about writing this book. Such

as moving to Phoenix, getting addicted to crystal meth, and then

writing about that. Or take all the money that I got in the advance

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

and blow it on prostitutes and exotic animals-but mostly on the

but given the pressure I was suddenly putting on myself to write

animals. One friend even suggested that I take the process really

a fucking #1 New York Times bestseller, I was feeling tns paranoid.

seriously, which I thought was hilarious. Then ...

"There is no way that you will get this book finished,"
offered my oldest/richest friend, David.
"A tremendous boost of confidence. Thanks so much

I had to get out of my head because I was spiraling into a deep

~
Y
\~
p
~ .v~
~

hole of depression and self-doubt at warp speed. Which is why I

immediately agreed with my boy David, who suggested that we
all go this rave in Queens.

for that, you fucking dick."

"What do you want from me? You're obviously smart, but
you're also a fucking buffoon who farts in the bathtub and tries to
bite the bubbles. Instagramming and making web videos where
you get in a Jacuzzi filled with pasta is very, very, very, very, very
different than writing a book."
"I guess. Sort of."
"Ummmmmm ... Not sort of. Definitely. Writing a funny caption under a picture or a blog post is a lot fucking easier than

Q)

Have you ever been to a Pokemon rave? It's fucking insane. I had to get
somewhere that would relieve me of the weight on my shoulders that was
~ crushing my soul. The Pokemon rave was off the grid in Maspeth, as in, you
(Ji cannot take the subway to anywhere near there. It's basically thousands of
Korean teens taking some form of ecstasy and listening to the most insane
techno you can imagine, wearing full Pokemon costumes. Like actually, they
take this shit super seriously, which is so Asian. When we arrived we walked
into a warehouse and joined the mob of teens gyrating to the loudest EDM
(mom, that's electronic dance music) on the entire planet. David handed us
each our ration of molly (which, by the way, was wayyyyytoo much molly). As
soon as it kicked in, my whole world became amazing. My entire perspective
on life, the book, my abilities changed in a flash.
C

writing an engaging narrative about your life over the course of

three hundred pages or whatever this publisher has you on the
DRUG PHASE 2:

hook for."

MOLLY VI~BIIES

I got what he was saying, but I also kind of disagreed.

"Writing a caption is not easier than writing a chapter of a

" Everything is amazing!!! I got a book deal. I relish that chal-

book. It's just different," I said, trying to convince myself as much

lenge!!" I screamed at my friend Will, who was definitely not

as I was him.
The conversation was making me feel very, very, very not great.

Ungreat. Could I actually do this? Was I capable of writing a whole

listening to me, because he was actually fingering a Korean eighteen-year-old in the middle of the rave over her Pokemon costume pants.

fucking book? About my life? Did anyone care? The weed was

"I'm going to crush this book. People are going to love it. I'm

kicking in and giving me massive anxiety. Or maybe it was my level

gonna learn so much about myself. I have a great team around

of drunkenness, or a culmination of all the insecurities I'.d had as

me who supports me and loves me. The book will just write itself.

a child. I started to panic. Paranoia was not my normal weed vibe,

I'm so fucking excited!!!!!"

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

There was no response from David, but I really didn't care. I

mean, what if I got like half of this fucking book done tonight? Like

felt like the luckiest man on the planet. For the next few hours I

what if I just kept writing for like the next twelve hours? Is this

had the best time that anyone has ever had at a Pokemon rave in

insane? I feel like I'm being insane right now, but like good insane,

Maspeth, Queens. I danced, I had an androgynous Asian dressed

like smart insane."

as Pikachu rub ice on my chest, I told anyone who would listen

I had the driver stop at the first pizza place we saw so I could

about how much they were going to love my book (most of them

fuel up to write my book. It was four a.m. at this point, and we

definitely did not speak English) and how it was going to be a long

were all standing on the street eating a slice when it hit me that I

journey for me, but how I was so willing to put in the time and

needed a title. We tossed around a few ideas:

hard work to deliver a book that people would be talking about

Pandering to Millennials

for years to come.

PubeFire

I really was on top of the world.

I Can 't Believe I Got a Book Deal

Then the molly started to wear off and my emotions became

Death of a Salesman

very mixed. (The comedown on molly is way better than on classic

The Bible

'90's ecstasy, but it's still no cakewalk.) All of my friends must

My Mom Fucked She/ Silverstein

have been coming down at the same time, because like magic, we

The Second Cumming

all found our way back to the front door at the exact same time.
"An Uber is going to pick us up in exactly nine minutes and
I scored a ton of coke off of this tranny named Tran!" screamed
David. Yes, a transvestite named Tran. So good.
Fast forward to ten minutes later: In the Uber. The molly is
officially done, and now we are all jazzed up on cocaine. I've now
shifted from proud and emotional to just very fired up.

DRUG PHASE 3:

/lyou

COIIIIKIIIIE VIIIIIIIII~IIIIES
know what I'm gonna do," I start repeating as we careened

down the highway, "I'm gonna go write this book right fucking now!! !! Let's do this shit. Like, no time but the present, right? I

But then it occurred to me that I have had my title tattooed to

my body already:

JO SH "THE FAT JEW " OS TRO VS K Y

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

I've had that tattoo for years. And Money Pizza Respect has

It was only when I got back to my apartment in Manhattan

been my motto for as long as I can remember. It was clear to me

and started setting up this monster that it occurred to me that it

that this would be the perfect sentiment for the title of my book.

wouldn't be able to connect to the Internet. It was only compatible

(So either I'm a genius or I'm lazy because I never came up with

with dial-up, and I only have wifi, because it's 2015. Then I called

anything better, obvi.) In my blaze of drug-fueled inspiration, I

Time Warner Cable, which is always to be described as horrible.

saw the lights of a pawn shop across the street, shining like a

But trying to figure out if there is some way to get dial-up on this

beacon of hope for new American authors. I decided that I would

computer, while coked the fuck up at 7:40 in the morning, that is

write my entire book on a typewriter, in an attempt to steep

the definition of hell.

myself in the heritage and tradition of these United States.

DRUG PHASE 4:

OK.

RIIEG~~ET

This is the moment when my drug plan began to fail (as they

swear I spoke with fourteen thousand Time Warner Cable em-

always do). This was a fucking pawn shop that was open at four
a.m. on a TUesday. They obviously did not have an old-timey

typewriter, because the only pawn shops that are open at this

quon, one of the customer service representatives. I woke up at

hour are for junkies to pawn stolen watches and electronics for

noon, my drool covering the keyboard of the Gateway and Sha-

cold, hard smack money. The owner of the shop, who looked like

quon nowhere to be found . Her shift had probably ended.

Owen Wilson (but black), showed me this crazy, chunky Gateway

I hadn't written a word of my book. I felt like death. It was

desktop computer from 1997. It was perfect. I grew up as a child

at that moment that I realized I didn't need the Internet to -.,.,.

of the Internet. I'd cut my teeth on a machine just like this one,

write this book because I was writing in Microsoft Word.

ployees that night, only to fall asleep while on hold with Sha-

.,.ltJ'I.
.._~..

and now I would be writing a book because I'd made something of

After I showered and ate some egg whites (those undo the ill

myself on the web. There was a karmic and poetic harmony to me

effects of a drug binge, right?), that computer went straight into

finding this exact computer in a pawn shop in Queens. It

the trash. Like I literally threw it into a Dumpster. I couldn't stand

felt like a real watershed moment for me. Also it was only
$74.99. Even while fucked up, I enjoy getting a good deal.
I pa;d the pawn man, told h;m that hew"' now a part

rc==mo

of history, and got into a cab with my huge new computer. I was
buzzing with literary ideas. Making lists in my head about what
stories from my life would make the book.

[9

the sight of it. I swear on my dead aunt's grave that I didn't write
a single word of this book until at least two months later. But
that's pretty much par for the course. Whatever. Enjoy the book.
Or don't. just kidding, please do. I need this book to be popular to pay
my fucking rent.

(1)

Having a kid must be the weirdest thing that can ever happen to you . I don't

C: know what that would feel like, because I don't have kids. It's like, one minute

~ they live inside your testicles, and the next they are speaking English and

(/) riding bicycles. My mom just basically li ved her whole life in service of me and
my brother, which from a you ng age I always thought was bizarre. From my
perspective, she had nothing else going on for her. Like what was she doing
for herself? Everyone needs me time. l never really understood why she lived
her life like that. Go to a fucking spa, girl-you deserve it, I remember thinking,
and I still think it to myself. I accepted her life choices , because it was all that
I knew, but I didn't get it. I still don't get it. I know we're still at the beginning,
but I'm hoping that's the most serious part of this book. Also, starting the
first chapter of your whole book with a side note is kind of killer, no?

l/i~
- (
.._,
,...-

~~
).1 ~

y mom alway' w;,hed 'he w" an

actress or performer of some kind, but that never happened

for her. I mean, she was in some shitty play in the village when
she was like twenty, in which she played a unicorn who was on
food stamps. And she got a callback for the Broadway production
of Play It Again, Sam for a role that Diane Keaton ended up getting.
Sorry, Mom. I'm sure you would have been great. But I do feel
confident that Diane Keaton was the right choice.
Her only real claim to fame was that she once banged Shel
Silverstein in the early seventies, long before she met my dad
and started our family. In case you're not familiar,
Shel Silverstein was a renowned children's author
who was extremely swarthy and legendarily horny.
Allegedly, The Giving Tree is about my mom's vagina (or

11

12

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

13

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTRO VS KY

so claims my drunk aunt, who told me about their little fling). But

"No. You didn't. Listen to me. Mommyyyyyyyyyyy. Can we

besides banging people like She!, my mom had a normal life and

pleassseeeeee have Pop-Tarts for breakfast again? You know it's my

a normal job.

favorite. Even Dad wants a Pop-Tart. Seeeeeeeeee!"

I have a theory that when I was born, she transferred all of

I did my best to copy her. I honestly have no idea how kids

her hopes and dreams of being on stage to me. Classic, right?

understand what they're saying. Like, how did that kid in jerry

To be fair, I had the exquisite facial structure of an angel, the

Maguire know how to be personable and charming when he was

singing voice of a prepubescent Tony Bennett, and the overall

five or whatever? Or Anna Paquin winning a fucking Oscar for

look and vibe of a young Asian woman (look at my headshot).

her heartbreaking portrayal of a mid-nineteenth-century frontier

Over the course of my childhood my mom pushed me toward the

person in New Zealand? Like, really? I barely knew what my arms

performing arts. She didn't know any better. It was the eighties. It
was back before Toddlers and Tiaras, when people finally realized

and legs were when I was that age.

But after a while I started to get into the swing of it. Soon

that living vicariously through your children was a bad idea and

enough I started getting some callbacks, and after about six

would inevitably fuck them up. We lived in Brooklyn, and at the

months I actually landed my first real job. It was a national network

age of nine I got my first big break when I landed a real talent

commercial for Hershey's Chocolate Syrup. My parents both

agent, named Steve, who wore only turtlenecks and smoked

seemed so proud of me, like too proud? Like shocked even? But

cigarettes in his 1988 Toyota Tercel with the windows closed.

I was fucking stoked. I was going to get to drink chocolate milk

Steve would tell me things you don't think people actually say,

all day, and the commercial called for me to wear Rollerblades,

like ''I'm gonna put your name in lights, kid! Make you a star!" I

which at the time were not even available in stores. I mean, kids

started auditioning for commercials: Coke, Mountain Dew, Skip-It,

knew about them, but nobody-and I mean nobody, not even rich

]iff, Pop-Tarts, Honey Nut Cheerios. You name it, I auditioned for

kids whose parents are always in Hong Kong for work-had them

it. I was pretty into the whole thing, mostly because my mom

yet. Plus, my agent told my mom that I was going to get to keep

would pick me up early from school and drive me into Manhattan,

my new blades. My friends were going to be so jealous. Even at

where we'd go to McDonald's before each audition and I'd get a

age nine I was deeply concerned about being an early adopter.

Happy Meal. What nine-year-old wouldn't like that? Once we got

It always felt shitty to me to be late on some cool shit that other

there, my mom would read the script with me and basically tell

kids were already doing. I wore a fedora and women's jeans to

me exactly what to say and how to say it.

school in third grade because of Indiana Jones, which meant I

"Just say it like I'm saying it, ]oshy."

was basically dressed like Bruno Mars in 2015. I have always been

"I did. I'm saying it like that."

ahead of the curve.

15

14

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

seamlessly and alarmingly quickly. It was like I had

been born an awful diva and just needed the tiniest
chance to let it out and the second that chance came ...

whoosh. The advertising agency even gave me and my

mom two cases of Hershey's Chocolate Syrup to take home at the
end of the shoot. I thought I was the most awesome fucking kid
on the planet. No one could touch me.
Now that I was a celeb, I expected everyone at my school to
treat me like I was Tom Cruise. And you know what the saddest
thing is? Once the commercial first aired a month or so later, they
actually kind of did treat me differently. And not just the kids, but
the teachers and the other parents. I must have been on screen
in that commercial for literally three seconds. I rolled by, in the
background, wearing bright blue Rollerblades, holding a glass of
chocolate milk with a red-and-white striped straw in it. It's super
fucked-up how much legitimately better it is to be famous .
Then, about a week after the Hershey commercial aired, I was
cast in another commercial, for a clothing company called French
Toast. The day of the French Toast shoot, I was a monster on set. I
This is me as a young actor. Seriously. Look at me. Stare
at me . I could be wearing a turtleneck made of interracial
dicks and it wouldn't be as gay as this shirt .

was demanding, loud, and shitty to everyone who worked on the

crew. I believed deeply that I had earned the right to anything I
wanted. I was like Mariah Carey, at the height of her career, but

The day I shot that commercial my whole outlook on the world

with a tiny little penis.

changed: There were production assistants waiting on me hand

"Hey, Greg, can you go ahead and get me some McNuggets for

and foot. There was an entire craft services table filled with every

lunch?" I yelled to an assistant as I sat in my dressing room . I was

variety of junk food , and I was allowed to eat whatever I wanted.

nine.

People were treating me as if I was better than everyone else, and

I liked the way it felt. I was easing into the role of Huge Dickhead

Greg looked at me like he had just walked in on me blowing his

uncle. He was clearly upset and disturbed.

17

16

JOSH "T HE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

"Actually, I'm Brian."

time now. Jamie, the hottest girl in our class (and also the only

My mom, who was sitting in the room with me, gave me a

female who had anything even close to actual boobs), asked me to

sit next to her during lunch. I was the king of the fourth grade, and

dirty look.
"You don't have to get him anything, Brian. He can eat the
catering. Josh, you're being a spoiled brat," my mom stated calmly.

Then, about a month later, shit got really classy when my mom

But in the end, I won, because I made Greg/Brian go to

took me to an audition for the Broadway production of Neil Si-

McDonald's to pick me up some motherfucking nuggets and one

mon's Lost in Yonkers. I nailed it. They fucking loved me and asked

of those sundaes with nuts. I was an instant prima donna, a child

me to come back the following day for a callback to read with

asshole of the first order, an overnight sensation who knew he

the actor who'd be playing my father. When I showed up for the

had the goods. Nothing was going to stop me as I skyrocketed to

second audition I was so prepared. I'd memorized the script and

fame, crushing people's spirits all along the way. Not only did I

I knew exactly how I wanted to do it. I walked into that callback

want success and fame for myself, I wanted to ruin other famous

in what felt like slow motion. My confidence was soaring. I was

kids and adults. I wanted to luxuriously bathe in the tears of their

looking fly in my khakis, turtleneck, and tiny gold chain. I was

failure. At that age, you really only care about yourself. (Or maybe

owning my shit.

that's true at all ages.)

already. He was really funny and super nice to me. Turns out

ing week, I had a whole new look. Magnetic earring (my parents

that the actor was a relatively unknown Kevin Spacey. When we

wouldn't let me get a real one), New York Knicks jacket, Oakley sun-

read the scene, it was like magic. The casting director and the

glasses, and a Nintendo Power Glove. Yes, I actually wore a Power

producers were flipping out about how much they loved it. I was

t9
~

..,_

0(!,,,

,..

The actor who'd been cast as the father was in the room

After that shoot I was balling. Coming back to school the follow-

Glove to school as a fashion statement. It actually had

I couldn't have possibly been taking myself more seriously.

sure that I had gotten the job as I walked out that room.

electrical cords hanging from it, and you know what?

"They loved me, obviously. They thought I was really funny.

It was fucking awesome, and I stand by that choice

I'm going to be on the stage. Broadway, baby." I popped open a

today. The girls were eating it up. The boys wanted to

Sprite and took a sip. "But we both knew I'd get it, am I right,

be me. It was incredible. I was the most famous kid in my

Rebecca?" (Yes, I had actually started calling my mother by her

school. Even more famous than this kid Mark who had been

first name.)

on America's Funniest Home Videos because his indoor basketball

We got the call the next morning that I was cast in the play.

hoop had fallen on his head. I hated him and enjoyed surpassing

I was so stoked, but I remember feeling almost vacant, like I

him almost more than I enjoyed the fame itself. I was in the big

had gotten used to this already, like I was a few days away from

19

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

18

J O SH " THE F AT JEW " O STRO VSKY

making an art film because I was bored by the commerce of it all.

dialing up the hammy meter and going more over the top. All I

It had been two weeks.

knew how to do was to act more.

My parents were freaking out. They couldn't believe that I was

going to make my Broadway debut. I did feel totally untouchable,
like I'd really made it. I was a star. Three auditions up, three
knocked down. This was my fucking craft.
I brought this brimming confidence into my next audition,
which was for another commercial. My mom picked me up from
school in our station wagon and drove me down to the casting
offices. As usual we were running late and rushing to get there
before it ended. My mom pulled up to the office building, but
there was nowhere to park. Driving in New York City is a fucking
nightmare, and it has been since the beginning of time.
"Joshy, I'm just going to double park here and come up with
you."
"Mom, why don't you just wait here with the car. I'll go up by
myself. I know what to do."

"Hello, Josh. Just stand on the X and read us the first line," one
of the casting people said.
"Suuuuuuuuuuure, folks!!!!!" I said. I was being so intense and
actor-y.
I looked into the camera and delivered my first line.
"I felllllllllllll off. .... .my.... .. SKATEBOAAAARD!" I was essentially
singing and doing jazz hands.
"Josh, can we try one of the other lines, maybe?" The casting
director seemed confused by my performance.
"Sure, sure." I thought I'd nailed it, so I was a little shocked by
the cold response from the people at the casting desk. "Let me
try this one .. .I tripped DOWN .. .THE ... STAIRS and got bruises on my
LEEEEEGS!!!!!!!" With this line I somehow took it even further in a
theatrical direction. I added a 360 spin and on the word legs slid
on my knees toward them like I was in West Side Story. I'm not

"I don't know, Josh. I should go over the lines with you."

kidding or exaggerating. I pray one day tape of this is unearthed.

"Mom, I got it. I'll be good."

I was doing full-blown Sondheim up there.

I'd been to this casting office before so I knew the drill. I went

Silence.

upstairs, sat outside the room, and read through my lines a couple

Then the director took a deep breath.

of times. It was really easy. I just had three of them, so when they

"Okay, Joshua .. .let's-"

called my name I was ready.

I cut him off. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. No, I get it. Let me try the

"Hi, I'm Joshua Ostrovsky!" I said as I walked into the room,

last line." I turned my back to them. "I was playing catch [I turned

and I'm pretty sure in hindsight that I was basically singing. It

my head over my shoulder to make eye contact] with my brother

was like I was mad coked-up, but instead of cocaine it was just

[full turn around] and got hit with a baaaaseballllllll!" I said the

extreme prepubescent confidence and tons of Skittles. The people

last word like Oprah and finished the line by miming a baseball

in the room seemed somber and almost sad. I wasn't sure what

swing, then pretending to watch the ball sail out of the park and

was happening, but I didn't know what else to do but keep on

taking a gratuitous trot around the "bases," smiling and waving

20

MONE Y PIZZA RESPECT

at the "fans" as I rounded the diamond. I did a big finish at home

plate, and then, with a shit-eating grin on my face, I went to highfive all of the casting people as if they were my teammates, who
all reluctantly and awkwardly obliged. There was so much joy in
my heart at that moment.
The room was oddly silent. One of the guys at the casting
table looked like he was angry at me. Another woman seemed
borderline disgusted. It was all very confusing.
"Josh,'' one of them said quietly. "This commercial is a public
service announcement about child abuse. I think you should go
out to the waiting room and go over this with your mom or dad
and then come back and try again later. This is a very serious
commercial, and it would be best if you tried something different.
Okay?"
My eyes filled with tears. I was beside myself. I was an actor,
this was my life. How could I have blown it so badly? I could
barely speak. If I had been wearing a scarf I would have tossed it
flippantly around my neck and stormed off camera.
I ran out of the room, out of the casting office, and into the
elevator. When I got down to the street my mom was sitting in
her car in front of the building. I opened the door.
"You embarrassed me!!!!!!!! I hate you, Mom!!!" I screamed and
bawled.
"Oh my God! What happened, Joshy?"
I handed her the piece of paper with the script on it. She started
to read it, and I could see in her eyes how bad she felt .
"I was doing it wrong, and they all must be laughing at me up
there. I hate this. I'm never going to another audition again."

21

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTR OVS KY

I cried all the way back to Brooklyn. I was mortified. Was my

career over? Had I started from nothing, honed my craft, become
a raging asshole diva, peaked, and spiraled out of control, all
within the matter of three or four weeks? Yes.
To make matters exponentially worse, the next day we got
a message on our answering machine from my agent saying
that the producer of Lost in Yonkers had decided to offer me the
understudy role instead of the actual part. After that turn of
events and the child abuse scandal, I was pretty sure that I never
wanted to think about acting again. So I told my mom and dad to
call my agent and tell him that I quit. I was a washed-up star. I
was still nine. It was over. I just wanted to escape. Go somewhere
where no one would know my face . Live a quiet life.
"Are you sure that's what you want?" my dad asked.
"Dad, I'm done. I'm gonna focus on sports. I wanna play for the
Mets, so I can't really have too many distractions."
And that was it. They never asked me about acting again. My
parents never made me do anything I didn't really want to do. I'm
not sure that was a good thing, but it's the way I grew up. I didn't
ever get to play for the Mets because I'm Jewish and Jewish people
are pretty bad at sports. Actually, really bad at sports. When I
was growing up we had a book in our house called something
like jewish Sports Heroes, and I'm not kidding, it was twelve pages
long, just Sandy Koufax, some boxer from 1909 named something
like Max Rosensteinwitz; and that was basically it. Remember,
Jewish kids, you can be basically anything you want, like literally
a fucking astronaut, but you will never be a professional athlete.

ere's something you don't know about me: When I was

twelve I wanted to write erotic novels. I swear I would have put
them in this book if my fucking mom hadn't lost them when
she and my dad moved out of New York City. I do distinctly
remember one of them being about a teacher named Mrs. Parker
who deflowers her male student-a slightly overweight Jewish

~IIIII

kid named Mark who moves into Manhattan from somewhere

suburban. Mrs. Parker shows Mark the big city and they have a
very steamy love scene in the bathroom of the Olive Garden in
Times Square. (Just to give you an idea of where my head was at
then.)
When I first started thinking about writing a book, this book, I
pitched an erotic novel. I'm not kidding. There was still a part of
me that needed to express itself via the medium of erotic fiction .

23

24

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

But my agent discouraged me from even bringing this idea up

with publishers, and holy shit, was he right! Let's just say that
when I did pitch that idea, I did not get a ton of support from
editors. I ultimately settled on this publisher, and this book

an ERC'"riC: STCR"''

is clearly not an erotic one, but ... my agent's assistant read the
erotica writing sample I had prepared and she secretly emailed
me and told me how "amazing" she thought it was. And how she
knew "that once I got some more credibility as an author, I would
break out as a star in the erotica genre for my second book."

BY JOSH OSTROVSKY

t was the coldest day of the year. The coldest

day of his life, maybe. That's how it felt. But
he'd grown up in New York and should be

Receiving that email was one of the most rewarding moments of

used to the cold. He was wearing a blue fleece onesie,

hunting boots, and sunglasses. The show started at four,

last year. Thank you for believing in me, assistant girl, thank you.

and Josh knew that if he didn't run, he would be late

I was very encouraged by her words, and I told my agent and

my editor that I would only do this book if they let me throw in

and the whole day would be a wash. This was literally

at least one erotica chapter. So that is what you are about read.

the only thing he'd gotten out of bed for today, which
was embarrassing, but it was his life now. Fashion week

None of the following actually happened, but there are definitely

always seemed ridiculous to him. Who cares? Why was

moments that are pulled from true events. Call it erotica, fan
fiction, whatever you think best suits it. Or call it trash. But I
wrote it for you and I think you will enjoy it.
You're fucking welcome in advance.

he invited to all of these fashion shows and parties? Why

did he go?
4:11p.m.
He ran through the door, got his name checked off a
list by a small PR girl (definitely named Rachel or Lauren)
in all black holding an iPad, and found his seat. The
space was huge and crowded with losers in "cool people"
costumes. The show was starting late, as they always did,
so he was fine on time. Checking emails on his phone as
the lights started to go down, he felt a hand on his knee.
The touch was soft, almost comforting, like the person
to whom it belonged was an old friend. When he looked

25

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

up, he saw the familiar face of a chocolate-skinned man

SUVs. After two cigarettes of waiting in the freezing

staring almost aggressively into his eyes. Kanye West.

"You're the Fat Jew," Kanye said, as if he was

cold, he saidfuck it and headed off. He was a big guy and

normally could withstand this weather, but this was just

explaining it to Josh.

too cold for Josh. Even if it meant missing his chance to

"That is a true statement," Josh replied. That's when

he noticed that Kim Kardashian was seated next to her
loving husband and was now turned around and halfsmiling right at him.
"Come find me after the show. I think we should talk,"
said Yeezy.
"Okay... "
"I like what you do on Instagram. That shit is real.
You're an artist. I get it. And I think you know Svetlana."

bask more in Kanye's presence.

Josh headed to his friend Peter's house, which was
around the corner, to see if he was home. He was dying
to relay the story to someone, anyone, really. Josh didn't
normally get starstruck, but there wasn't a person
on this planet that wouldn't be starstruck by Kimye.
Unfortunately, Peter wasn't home, so Josh was forced to
take refuge from the cold at Starbucks. He just sat there
looking at Instagram, dying to tell someone that Kanye

Josh did know one Svetlana, a Pilates instructor from

the Ukraine from whom he'd taken one session before

knew who he was.

After three skim lattes, a freezing cold walk home, a

deciding that Pilates was stupid.

very satisfying masturbation session, and hot shower, Josh

"OK, oh yeah, for sure." Josh said, smiling as loud

electronic music came on throughout the lofty space and

was getting dressed to go to a very swanky cocktail party.

He decided to wear black jeans, a tank top with a spray-

models began stomping down the runway. Too distracted

painted cartoon of the Twin Towers on it, and his denim

jacket that had the words Mazel Tough embroidered in big

by what had just happened, Josh barely even realized the

fashion show was happening until it was over. He'd spent

letters across the back. To finish off the look he put his

the entire show trying to sit in as cool a way as possible.

hair up into its signature vertical ponytail on the top of

Kanye made him nervous. Very nervous. Which was a

strange feeling for Josh, because he never felt nervous.
Nervous was the last word someone would use to

his head.
The party was full of more fashion people. His
peripheral friend Bee Shaffer had invited him because

describe him.
When the show ended and the waify models had

her mom, Anna Wintour, supposedly thought he was

"interesting." It was a small group of people at Anna's

cleared the stage, there was such a flurry of photographers

and crowds swarming Kim and Kanye, Josh never even
saw them leave. He didn't know what to do, so he decided
on standing by the line of cars, assuming that eventually
they'd come out to be collected by one of the idling bfack

brownstone on the Upper East Side. Josh was nursing a

Scotch neat and talking to two sisters who owned a jewelry
company or something. He wasn't really paying attention.
"We're actually flying to Tulum tomorrow with Karen
0 and Dave Franco to shoot our lookbook, so you should

JOSH 'THE FAT JEW' OSTROVSKY

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

definitely come with and hang!" one of the sisters said

to him.
"Oh, shit. Kim and Kanye just walked in. Love that,"
said the other sister, looking past Josh toward the door.
Josh turned around to look and lo and behold, there
they were again, in new outfits. Kim's pencil skirt hugged
the curve of her hips like a second skin. Her face glowed
and her tits were huge and supple, stacked braless beneath
a sheer cream blouse atop her tiny waist and truly
amazing ass. She looked fucking great.
"I gotta pee," Josh said, excusing himself. He walked
toward the door where the Wests were still standing, talking
to Anna and Bee. He'd been thinking about the two of them
ever since. About the way Kanye touched his leg, the way
Kim looked at Josh like she knew something he didn't, the

I" '

way she was silent yet entrancing all at once. Josh was never
drawn to anyone the way he was drawn to them.
After he peed and had another drink, Josh found his
way over to the Wests, who were sitting on a dark green
suede couch in a large room filled with huge black-andwhite photographs of Aborigines .
"Yo. The Fat Jewish," Kanye announced.
Josh sat down next to Kanye. Kim was smiling but still
mute.
They talked about Josh's Instagram feed and his
videos. Kanye was a real fan, which was crazy to Josh.
Finally, Kanye put his glass of Champagne down on the
coffee table and looked at Josh, putting his hand on his
leg again. His touch was so gentle. You are so misunderstood,
thought Josh.
"I like the way you see shit, because it's nothing like the
way I see shit. You understand that?"

Josh didn't really know what he meant or why he might

say that, but that didn't matter. "Of course I do," he
replied.
"And I make it a point in my life to have contrasting
views expressed to me about my work. See, I'm not a
rapper, I'm an art student. Kim's a student, too."
Kim nodded.
"Oh ... OK," Josh said, his eyes glancing down for a
second to Kanye's hand still resting on his thigh. He
wondered if Kanye could feel him trembling a little bit.
"So, why don't you come back to the hotel with us,
'cause I have some new shit that I wanna run by you and
I'm kinda hopin' you hate it, 'cause that would be very
helpful to me."
"Right. Your hotel, OK. Now? I thought you lived
here."
"We're in between places, so we're staying at the
Pierre."
"True," said Josh. "Aight, I'm down. Now?"
"Yes, now. Unless you're trying to stay here all
night. I'm bored as fuck here, and so is Kim," Kanye
said, looking around the room. Kim said nothing. She
didn't look bored to Josh. She looked like a selfie of Kim
Kardashian. They got outta there.
Their hotel room, a suite at the Pierre, was enormous
and plush.
"This place is beautiful," Josh remarked when they
walked in. Kim walked in and immediately sat down on
one of the couches. She put her legs up and sat statuesque
like an Olympian goddess.
"The place is all right. Too blue," Kanye replied as he
walked toward a stereo system set on an antique credenza

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

across the massive sitting room. He flicked a few switches

covered her breasts in the slick stuff. She was rolling

and a rough, rowdy beat blasted from the speakers. "Now,

around on the floor now, and Josh joined and did the
same, their bodies intertwining like soft, slippery eels.

fuckin' really tell me what you think of this," he shouted

at Josh over the loud track, bringing him coconut water
that he'd pulled from a small fridge.
"Yeah, yeah, I will," Josh said, nodding cooperatively,
taking the coconut water and having a sip.
He followed Kanye's order and sat right next to her. He

shouted with glee. He ripped his blousy top off, his body

one intoxicating aroma. His breath grew heavier, and he

I" -

I'
I

,,

1.1 '

Josh and Kim sat listening. Occasionally Kim would do

something on the laptop next to her, which, weirdly, was
a Dell. Josh couldn't believe it. Why does Kim Kardashian

blown boner and was proud of it. He felt like he may have
finally found his spirit-sex partners in Kim Kardashian

"OK. Go sit down next to Kim."

hoped she wouldn't notice.

Kanye began to rap some of his "new stuff" while

,I

More flashes. The music still blasting. Josh had a full-

and Kanye West.

"You guys have like the same fuckin' body!" Kanye

could smell her perfume: a crisp scent that was something

like clean laundry and roses and mint, all rolled into

1.

JOSH 'THE FAT JEW' OSTROVSKY

own a fucking Dell? She has all the money in the world, Josh

way more chiseled than Josh had imagined. He was

actually a beautiful, beautiful man. His pants came off
just as fast. Josh and Kim exchanged an approving glance
as Kanye's impressive member flopped out of his ripped
designer jeans.
Was this really happening? Not in his wildest dreams
did Josh ever think he'd be in a hotel room, naked, with
two of the most famous people on the planet.
The three of them moved to the bedroom, a~ equally

thought to himself. He couldn't believe any of what

palatial space, filled with plush powder-blue upholstery

was happening. Then, seamlessly with his rap, Kanye

and gold-accented antiques. On the bedside table was a

small box with more lube, a pirate eye patch, dishwashing

started shouting orders at Josh.

"Take that jacket off, buddy!" he yelled. "Take all that

shit off! Yeah, take those fuckin' jeans off! Yes! We're

gloves, and lots of condoms, different sizes.

Kanye threw on the eye patch and the gloves and found

gonna take some fuckin' pictures!"

the biggest sized condom in the box. He then threw Josh a

One thing led to another and soon Josh was sitting

stark naked next to Kim, who had slipped out of her dress

regular-sized condom, which Josh slipped on.

"Now you pleasure my wife, funny man." Kanye was

and stilettos, leaving them in a pile next to the couch. She

smiling.
Josh really had no choice. He started groping
Kim gently. Kanye lounged catlike and watched. Josh

was completely nude and looked stunning. Her skin was

the color of an iced laue. Kanye, with his clothes still on,
started snapping photos of Kim and Josh on a camera that
looked like it was made in the early 1980s. Flash! Flash!
Kim ran and grabbed a bottle of lube from a drawer and

caressed Kim's supple breasts, taking one out to expose

her majestic dime-sized areolas, which he began softly
chewing on, like a baby with no teeth on a pacifier. A

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

few minutes in, Kanye joined the sexual debauchery. He

sidled up alongside Josh and softly kissed his neck, which
was unexpected but certainly not unappreciated. They
both began grabbing at Kim, like cheetahs who have
run down a helpless antelope. There was so much lube
everywhere, everyone was laughing and moaning and
the vibes were just fucking right. Josh, ever the sexual
deviant, was unsure of the boundaries, unsure how far

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

"You'd be down to watch it?" Kanye spat at Josh,

imitating him.
"Urn ...yeah?"
"Well, thank fuckin' God, 'cause we watchin' it right
now."
And with that, Kanye bounced out of bed and slipped a
DVD into the player under the TV.
The three of them sat in bed, naked, and watched the

Kimye was willing to go. He decided to test the waters of

his darkest fetishes by putting Kim's entire foot into his

movie from start to finish while Kanye narrated every

mouth. Rather than stop him, she giggled mischievously

was delivered to the room, and it was fucking delicious.

and began to jam it even further down Josh's throat, while

The sun eventually rose and Josh started getting

dressed to go. Kanye slept like a sweet child, swaddled in

simultaneously pleasuring his member with her soft and

major scene through the entire thing. At some point, sushi

flawless Armenian hands. Kanye began clapping with

approval, taking immense joy in the sexual rodeo that was

expensive sheets on the far side of the bed. As Josh slowly

unfolding before his eyes. Kanye inserted himself into

Kim's mouth and began slowly thrusting, as Josh mounted

Kim slid out of bed and ran to him.

"Thanks for last night, Josh," she said. It was the first

her, forming a double team that wildly satisfied Kim. As

the sweat began to drip and the intensity increased, Kanye

time he'd heard her actually speak since meeting them at

slipped into Kim from behind, and for a brief moment,

Kanye's balls slapped against Josh's. The two locked eyes,
and Kanye reached his hand out for Josh to take, and
he did, the two gripping each other while continuing to
fuck Kim. The thrusting of bodies intensified, and as the
German house music reached a crescendo, all three of
them simultaneously climaxed, breathless.
Afterward, Josh lay cozily sandwiched between the
Wests, so peaceful that he was almost sleeping.
"You seen Despicable Me 2?" Kanye asked, breaking
the silence.
"I haven't, but I'd be down to watch it," Josh answered.

shut the door to the bedroom, so as not to wake anyone,

the fashion show.

"You're welcome, Kim. Thank you guys," said Josh.
He took the elevator down and walked through the
quiet lobby of the hotel and back out into the cold, back
into his life.
The End.

f
li

I
;j['

((((((((((
ou're not tired. Stop saying that you're tired. It's not
even late."
"Yeah, I am, Dad. And yes it is," I pleaded, looking out the
window of our minivan at the passing delis-places with names
like Rocco's Best NY Gourmet Deli, Lloyd's Gourmet NY Best Deli,
and Best NY Gourmet Deli by Andrei. They were all still open, but
it was late. Like, eleven p.m. That's fucking late for a thirteenyear-old, especially if he's exhausted because his bar mitzvah
party ended less than an hour ago. I had spent the last several
hours dancing to "Whoomp! (There It Is)" and having my Jewish

311111

aunts with tremendous breasts tell me how proud they are of me,
and I just wanted to go to sleep. My dad didn't care: he was on a
mission. The objective: to de-gay his maybe-gay son.

Ill:

The truth is, my hard-ass immigrant father did have very good
reason to believe his thirteen-year-old son might be waaaaaaay
into dick. As a really little kid, I was very into fashion, I made and
served Play-Doh hors d'oeuvres, and I was obsessed with disco

35

36

37

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

I! ..

music. Not to stereotype, but that shit's all pretty gay. Look at me

"Where are we going?"

up there in that picture at Jew camp from that year. I'm holding

"Brighton Beach."

on to that other kid like he's my husband.

The tipping point for my father was the theme I'd picked for my

!11

JOSH ' THE FAT JEW ' OSTROVSKY

"Why, Dad?"
"Because. Stop asking questions."

bar mitzvah: autumn. Like the season. You have to understand:

My dad may have let the bar mitzvah theme happen, but he'd

My dad was born in Russia, grew up on the streets of Brighton

made it super clear that he was not into it-I realized just how

Beach playing stickball with a rock or whatever kids did back

much when in the distance I saw a very bright, very neon, very

then, and got a fake ID so he could work at the post office when he

scummy looking strip club.

was fourteen. Fourteen. He also had a full beard at that age. When

"When we walk in, I don't want you making a scene."

I was fourteen I was just discovering that I could make a milky

"Are you sure they'll let me in?"

substance come out of my penis, and I had one long pubic hair
that was longer than my dick. By that age my dad already had a
full-time job, had almost definitely seen two or three men stabbed

"No."
"So why the fuck are we going?"

to death, and knew how to drive stick. He'd never really known

"Language, Josh!"
"Can we please go home? There's leftover cake and I know

a homosexual, so to him, having an autumn bar mitzvah theme

it's gonna get stale really quick because it was super moist, and

instead of, say, basketball or rock music, was super gay. He couldn't
even remotely process it. My mom, on the other hand, was thrilled

generally-"
"You ate enough cake. It's time you start appreciating worlds

with that choice. Together we'd picked out the decor: Faux leaves

outside of food, theater camp, and your Walkman."

were delicately draped throughout the banquet hall, the space was
lit in warm autumnal tones like eggplant and ochre, the tablecloths

My dad has always referred to any personal music player as a

Walkman, even today with iPods.

were designed to look like bark, and the table's centerpieces were

"Why?" I asked, genuinely hurt.

gigantic cornucopias, each exploding into a sprawl of beautiful

"Because you're a man now." He pushed on the gas, speeding

fall melange. Very, very, very gay. Like, I could have had bouquets

through a red light.

of autumnal-hued cocks knotted together on each table and it

"But why?"

wouldn't have been as homosexual as having wicker horns filled

"Because that's what happens at a young man's bar mitzvah.

with the seasonal fruits and vegetables of a crisp fall harvest.

So I was tired as fuck, being driven by my slightly homophobic

He passes over into the next phase of his life."

dad far from my adorable fall-themed bar mitzvah party. I had no

"But why?"
"No more questions please. We're almost there."

clue where we were going. But the roads seemed familiar.

He turned on the radio loud (my dad always listened to AM

39

38

J O SH ' THE FAT JEW ' OST ROVSKY

MONE Y PIZZA RESPECT

news radio at top volume, like it was music) until we pulled into

He was transfixed.

the parking lot of Ivan's Sexy Rodeo and I looked at the glowing

"Dad," I said louder.

"Yeah, yeah. He's here to become a man. Where's our table?"

green clock in the dashboard: 11:26 p.m. We were welcomed at

Scary Thin pointed us in the direction of our table, and out of

the door by a scary thin man with one eyeball that was much,

nowhere a guy who looked like a bouncer in all black appeared

much bigger than the other. I tried not to look at his fucked-up

and ushered us toward the corner of the club. "Deuces Are Wild"

face. It reminded me of when I watched Tales from the Hood and I

by Aerosmith was playing, or some other sick fucking song. One

got so scared that I threw up on my friend Micah's cat. The guy

of the tables we walked past was covered in napkins, and on top

seemed to know my dad, which also scared me. A lot of things

of the napkins were chicken wings, probably a hundred chicken

were scaring me. Like the overwhelmingly pungent smell of

wings, just laid out. This made me feel much more comfortable

vanilla, sweat, and soy sauce when we first walked in. But I was a

for some reason.

"Here you go, gentlemen," the big guy said as we sat at our

man, I guess, so I tried to act like one.

Ivan's was as dark as the depths of a hooker's anus inside, but

table. "Ivan says hello, and Martinka should be over in just a few

the main room was filled with neon silhouettes of cowboys and

minutes."
As he said that last bit about Maria or whoever, he looked down

horses, giving the space a warm glow. The art actually was kind
of beautiful. The place wasn't too big, but it was packed. With

at me and winked and then shot me with an imaginary gun made

adult males. There were exactly zero other thirteen-year-old

out of his fat fingers and then blew away the imaginary smoke. I

child-adults (like myself) there, so I was getting disapproving

think I LOL'd, to be honest. Then he was gone.

stares from pretty much everyone I looked at. I was still wearing

"Not bad!" my dad shouted over the music.

my aubergine-hued tux, by the way, and on my upper lip was the

"Yeah, I guess. Who's Ivan?"

"I've known Ivan for forty years, He's a ... good guy. Has a great

teeniest little mustache of soft wispy pubic-like hairs.

"So, ]oshy-" said the skeleton man.

tattoo of a panther."
My dad had never been "cool," meaning he wasn't particularly

"Please don't call me that."

"Your dad here says you want to become a man."
And then he did something that resembled a laugh
mixed with the cough of someone who is shortly
going to die.
I looked at my dad, who was eyeing a passing topless woman carrying a platter of sushi and liquor. "I thought I already was .a man?"

fun or into awesome stuff. To me, he was a frugal, responsible,

sensible-shoe-wearing Russian radiologist who had worked
hard literally all his life. I knew of his rough-Brooklyn-streets
upbringing, but he never talked about it, long ago having left it for
the far more upscale lifestyle. He wanted nothing to do with the

40

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

41

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

Russians he grew up with, the ones who don track suits and gold

comments like that, then it wouldn't be long before I could go

chains and commit tax fraud with no fear of prosecution (because

American prison is essentially Club Med for them compared to

home and eat cake with my mom.

I reached down to take a sip of my Coke, but before I could grab

the Eastern European jails, where rats would gnaw your penis

it, I felt two hands on my shoulders. Then the hands creeped down

off). My dad shied away from this upbringing and those people,

my chest, caressing the lapels of my suit and finally landing in

but that night I got my first glimpse into his past. He knew a guy

my lap. Then I felt two large breasts cup either side of my face like

named Ivan with a tattoo of a panther? That was pretty cool. We

a huge pair of foamy headphones. It was like fucking Teets by Dr.

were also at a strip club, which I was just starting to realize was

Dre!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA. OK, wait, no, so this is what happened

very awesome.

next: My head was covered in boob, my hand was frozen mid-

"Have you been here before? Has Mom been here?"

soda-reach, and I could feel that my tiny dick was starting to

I didn't press him about whether or not my mom had ever

finally realize that he was in a strip club, because I had a semi.

been to this shithole. But I would've felt way safer if I knew she

"Wait-" I started to shout at my dad, but the woman who

had been. I was learning that a big part of being a man is feeling

was connected to the tits spun my chair around (this chair is on

unsafe and being okay with that.

wheels?), knelt down to my level, and I was face-to-face with her.

All of the spotlights in the place shot over to the main stage,

"Hello, darling," she said in a husky Russian accent. She had

and the room erupted with applause and cheers in Russian.

thick, curly black hair and a kind, handsome face. Her hands

Everyone in the club was Russian. The music stopped and a

touched my thighs, and her hands were rough from years of

woman wearing chaps, cow-print stiletto heels, and a matching

working at factory in Mother Russia. (Just guessing. But probably.)

cowboy hat walked out. I could see her pussy. Now that I think

She had a scar on her stomach, from a knife fight in the streets of

about it, this may have been my first pussy. When was yours?

the old country. (Again, just guessing. But it's the only thing that

"Nice pussy!" I shouted over to my dad, who was now sipping

makes sense.)

on a beer. It just seemed like the appropriate thing for a straight

"Hello," I said.

guy to say. We were both shocked that I said it, and I was unsure

"My name Martinka."

how my dad would react. "Come on now, show some class," he

"Okay."
"You want me to have you good sexy time, yes?"

said, and then he threw me a wink.

I noticed that a can of Coke with a straw in it had materialized

"Urn. Sex? Really?" I wondered if strip clubs were actually

on the table in front of me. Okay, this isn't so weird, I thought. I

fuck clubs. At the time, there was one guy at my school who had

just needed to prove to my dad that I'm not gay with a .few more

actually fucked. His name was Mark. He was super tan and good

42

MONEY PIZZA RE SPECT

at basketball and wore a hemp necklace. Having sex made him a

legend. Was I about to join that sacred fraternity?
"You are sweet, sweet, little angel boy. So cute and chubby and
delicious. I have son your age but not cute like you. Look at these

43

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTR O V SK Y

she was obviously a gymnast at age thirteen as well as a stripper,

like all Russian women.
"He's not gay," she said to my dad, who came rushing over to
look at me sitting frozen, horrified, in the chair.

eyes." She ruffled my hair and smiled so big. She was genuinely

"Oh, wow. Josh ... "

being such a sweet lady to me. I was completely hard at this point.

After that, all I remember is my dad handing Martinka a stack

I basically had a diamond stud in my pants. I was also still very

of bills and then grabbing me by the arm and rushing me out of

much thirteen years old, which meant I could blow my load any

there as fast as he could. Before we walked out I told her to stop

minute. She stood up and put her hands on my shoulders, then

using a curling iron because it was frying her hair and sucking out

sat down on my lap, straddling me. And my boner. I was glad that

all of its natural radiance and shine. My dad overheard me giving

most everyone around me was watching the cowgirl pussy show

the stripper hair advice and it almost set off his gay-son alarm,

on stage instead of the husky kid with a boner show at my table. I

but my spooging in my pants had pretty much made it clear to

couldn't deal with any attention at the moment. It was awkward

him that I was a young man who liked vaginas.

enough that my dad was sitting across the table from us.

The car ride home was incredibly awkward. My dad blasted AM

She flopped her soft, real tits all over my face . Is she gonna

radio to drown out our mutual confusion and shame. We didn't

fuck me right here in front of my dad? Then Martinka removed her

speak once, except for in the final moment as we pulled up to our

tits from my head, turned around, put her hands on the ground,

apartment. As I unbuckled my seat belt, my dad turned to me and

shook her ass in my face, and without warning kicked her legs up

said, ''I'm proud of you. Tell your mother we ran out of gas."

and over me, landed her heels on the table behind my chair, and

I've spent the rest of my life trying to make my dad as proud of

put her vagina inches from my sweet angel face . I came in my

me as he was that night when I came in my pants at Ivan's Sexy

pants. I mean that sincerely-a small circular stain of seed began

Rodeo at midnight on the night of my bar mitzvah. No matter

increasing in size on my pant leg.

"Dad?!" I shouted to the universe. Looking back, that was

probably a really creepy thing to say.
Martinka looked at me, upside down, through her arms. Then
down at my suit pants. Dark blotches had formed around my dick
area. She flipped her body around, her legs floated back to the
ground with grace, and she stood back up dramatically because

what I do, it'll never happen.

'm sure that most of the people reading this book are like me
and don't really read that many books. It's pretty crazy, to me,
that people still read books at all. It's so nineties to read. My brain
has become so used to looking at Buzzfeed articles on the Internet like "The Top 10 Times Rihanna Was on a Beach" that having
to read and process an entire book freaks me out. Many times I
have my interns read to me. So when I was putting this whole
thing together, I decided that I needed to add in a few moments
throughout the book that could serve as little breaks for all of our
brains. Like rest stops along the highway where you can refuel,
get a thirty-two-ounce diet beverage, and check in with all of
your social media accounts.
They will be a mix of some poetry I wrote while sitting on a
fucking windowsill as raindrops pattered against the glass, some

45

47

46

JOSH ' THE FAT JEW ' OSTR OVSKY

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

inspirational recipes that I use in my everyday life, and some

excerpts from my childhood diary that are so disturbing it will
become totally clear to you how I became the weirdo that I am
today. Also, there will be some very chill coupons to clip out and

Juice and smoothie culture are obviously very LA, and I'm not
going to sip a Swiss chard Cit's a vegetable that I've heard of)
with chia seeds concoction like I'm Tori fucking Spelling. I had
to do this my way. A normal smoothie doesn't fill an extra large

use in your real life, because, well, give the people what they want.

man like me up, so this had to be special. Dr. Rosenblattstein

And I have also included a selection of coloring book pages based

(seriously, my doctor has the Jewiest name in the history of

on dreams that I've had.

Jews [and doctors]) told me to get protein by eating lots of

Reading is hard, and there are a lot of long chapters, but

meat, so I decided to base my smoothies around that. Since I'm

hopefully these little interludes will help you get through the

such a giver and want you to be happy and healthy, I'm going to

book without getting frustrated and making you start to hate me.

share my recipe with you. I'm like the thick-as-fuck Dr. Oz.

FAT JEW'S CARB-FREE SMOOTHIE

THAT WILL MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD
I went to the doctor recently, and after performing my physical
he alerted me that since I have recently turned thirty, it's time to
start "taking care of myself," to start "respecting my body," and to
"stop drinking gravy," all of which are things I have never excelled
in. He alerted me that my intake of roughly six thousand calories
a day in complex carbohydrates (eating like you 're getting ready
to run a marathon but then just sitting on your couch watching
a Cops marathon) is apparently not a good long-term health

CM-(}tt.U~
A ~~ 4- But

boob job, and travel to space, I've decided to start making healthy
smoothies (not awesome smoothies like the ones you get at a
mall in Ohio that will give you diabetes immediately).

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plan, and I need to alter my diet. But in the interest of not dying
before I get rich enough to become legendarily eccentric, get a

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48

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

A HAIKU 4 U:
Goldie Hawn: still hot
I would really eat her butt
after spinning class

49

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OS TR OVSKY

WILL SMITH: A POEM

Just spending another day
wondering why they changed the mom on Fresh Prince of
Bel-Air from the dark one to a much lighter one
and didn't say shit about it
Right?

50

51

JOSH 'THE FAT JEW' OSTROVSKY

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

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DRIYING

IKKIII1osh, a<e you packed?" my mom meamed from her room

Fourteen-year-old me was in the bathroom, shitting and
playing Kung Fu Master on my Gameboy. I'd forgotten we were
going on a family trip to England and we were leaving the next

!)

day, so, no, not packed at all.

"Yeah, I'm packed!" I shouted.
"Are you really, or is that a lie and I need to come do it for you?"
"Mom, I'm packed. I promise!"
"Okay, but you only say you promise when you're lying."
"Can I please take a shit in peace?"
"Don't say that word to me. It's so ugly when you shout it."
"Fuck!" I died. Game over, the end.

"Josh!!" she yelled, her voice getting closer.

"Sorry. My game."

61

62

63

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

"What?!"
"Never mind! I'll pack after I'm done in here."
"Josh!"
"I. Will. Pack. I need to poopy," I said in a slurred, mentally

handicapped person's voice (my editor told me that the word

retarded is offensive), which was very funny to me at that point in

my life and still is a little funny. I have nothing to hide here.

"You need to pack as soon as you come out of the bathroom."
I could almost hear her hot and heavy breath on the door. She
was always very stressed about traveling. Going on a trip basically
turned my mom into Bane from The Dark Knight Rises .. .

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

Laos. Maybe this sounds awesome to you, but as a spoiled piece

of shit kid, I hated this about them. I felt like I was constantly
on another plane to somewhere lame, while, to be quite fucking
honest, all I wanted to do was stay in New York and steal weed
from my friends so I could smoke it with my other friends. I really
didn't want to see a ruined temple with my dad. It meant nothing
to me. My parents are like scenic memory hoarders or something.
They were constantly trying to make me a better person with
worldly perspective, and it was wildly annoying.
I guess as an adult (okay, man-child) I could take the view
that my parents were genuinely interested in experiencing the

"Fine," I offered under my breath while wiping my ass. I should

wonders of our magical planet and that they just wanted to share

mention that I'd moved out of my gay bar mitzvah phase and into

those amazing adventures with me. But I choose not to. I feel that

my pot/rap music phase. I couldn't grasp why she'd never let me

maintaining some aspects of my teen angst keeps me fresh and

wear one outfit for an entire week when I was traveling, like I

connected to all my teen fans with shitty attitudes.

wanted to. It worked fine for me at summer camp, but she'd never
understand that. My mom's not about that life.

"Thank you," she said sweetly and walked away from the
bathroom door.
I pulled out the suitcase from under my bed, threw in a bunch

So the next morning we were off to the United Kingdom. En-

of crumpled hoodies and boxers, and then refocused my energy

on Kung Fu Master.

gland was whatever, double-decker buses, red telephone booths,

crumpets, hegemony, I get it. It's fine . But for the highlight of our

My parents are those kind of very annoying people who are

England trip, my parents took my brother and me to Stonehenge

obsessed with "seeing" the world, so when I was a teenager they

to see this crazy laser show (which was a thing they did there in

took my brother and me on some crazy trips, like ones where

the early nineties). The woman who seated us handed us each a

people ask why you would bring children to that. I saw tons of shit

blanket and a lawn chair. I set up my chair about ten feet behind

that most people only ever see in pictures. Paris, Rome, Beijing,

my parents and my brother, as an act of peaceful rebellion from

Moscow, Prague, Auckland, Georgia (the country), the Ukraine,

my family.

64

M ON E Y PIZZA RE SPE C T

"You good?" my dad asked me, looking back.

"Yeah. When is this supposed to start?" I asked, genuinely
excited.
"Any minute," replied my mom, also without turning around.

65

JOS H "THE FAT J EW " OS TR OVSKY

of my excellent and exhilarating decision to masturbate under a

fleece blanket not ten feet from my parents at fucking Stonehenge!
It was amazing. The best jack-off session
that I'd ever experienced in my life.

"Do you need another blanket?" she asked. My mom and dad

I felt cool. I was cool. I was overcome by

were having a blast on this fucking England trip. My dad walked

a sense of accomplishment. When you're

around in this dumb plaid hat he got at the hotel shop, and my

four teen, pulling off this type of stunt suc-

mom kept taking pictures with the new camera that my dad had

cessfully means something.

gotten her for their anniversary. They were holding hands and
acting like teenagers. Both of them had never been to Stonehenge,
and you could tell they were just loving the whole look how fucking
old the place is thing.

~I'
I'

dn~

"Well, was that amazing or what?!" my mom said as the show

finis hed, looking back at me in my lawn chair.

"Yeah, Mom, that was really cool," I responded as I carefully

folded my blanket. "Definitely the best part of the trip so far."

Before I could respond, the show started. Green, blue, and

My gears were turning. Stonehenge would become the first

pink lasers shot out from all corners of the rock formation . Some

stop on a very specific journey in my life. When we returned

dramatic classical music played. The lasers became increasingly

home to New York, I felt like I was something was different. Like,

frantic as the song crescendoed. A few minutes into the show I

my eyes had been opened to a whole new way of seeing and

realized that I had my hand on my dick, under the blanket. I mean

thinking about the world. I'd been exposed to a higher level of

I was fucking preteen. I got hard once when my Spanish tutor said

sexual existence, and I was not about to let go of it. I was break-

a word that sounded like "fuentes." I got hard all the time for no

ing down barriers and exploring uncharted territory. I was essen-

reason at all. Not to mention that I was basically touching my dick

tially the Magellan of masturbation. But I didn't really know how

at all times. It's a thing. Ask anyone who is male and was, at some

to go about existing on this level because I was fourteen . So I kinda

point in his life, a fourteen-year-old .

just kept my Stonehenge moment on the back burner.

I was definitely getting aroused by the show and the fact that I

It wasn't until the next year, when our parents took us to

was in such a public place was kind of playing into, too. So I was

Paris, that my mind began to awaken to all the possibilities. I was

like OK .. fuck this. I'm already halfway down this road ... the journey has

sitting with my brother in coach, while my parents sat in first

begun .. .it is my destiny to jerk off under this blanket here.

class. That was the way they did things. Because they said they

About forty seconds later, I was done.

could afford it, and one day we'd be able to do that if we focused

The result was minimal enough that there was no real trace

on our school work. As fifteen-year-old me sat there on the plane

66

MONE Y PI ZZA RE SPE C T

thinking about how much he didn't give a shit about croissants

and berets, I noticed the Departures magazine that was in the seat
back pocket in front of me. It had a big picture of the Eiffel Tower
on it. My eyes lit up. I had a major breakthrough/realization. I was
alive!
"You definitely think we're gonna go to the Eiffel Tower?" I

67

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

It was gonna be me!!! I needed to figure out if this was the kind of
thing that you could get into the Guinness Book of World Records for.
obviously my parents were planning a visit to the tower,
see the Eiffel Tower? We went the very next day, and I was able
to immediately locate a porta-potty to jerk off in. You could

not his real name, but I promised I would change it to protect

see the sky-scraping wrought iron tower through the slitted

"Errr.. .what?"
I didn't realize it but he was already asleep.
"Yeah," he said groggily, annoyed.
"Anyway, what I was saying was, you think we're gonna go to
the Eiffel Tower or no?"

~p

because how fucking dumb would it be to go to Paris and not

turned and excitedly asked my brother, Avi. {Side note: This is

his identity. Unfortunately for him, a simple Google search will
reveal his name.)

Probably not, but I wanted to double-check.

as I stroked. Another success. It smelled like a fucking

diaper in there, but I actually jerked off twice because
you can do that type of thing when you're fifteen.
Now it was official. I was a man with a plan (and a three-inch
penis): epic global masturbation. This, if accomplished, would
make me new friends every time I told the story, for the rest of

"Why do you care? You don't even wanna go on this trip."

"Yeah, I do."

my life. From that trip on I started to take a real interest in where

"Did you not tell Mom last night that you were coming down

much let me pick the next few destinations. Rather, they were

with leg cancer and you thought it'd be best if you stayed home?"
I had 100 percent said that exact thing to my parents the night
before over Chinese food. They barely reacted.

my parents took us next. They were happy I cared, so they pretty

letting my dick pick.
I honestly need to pat myself on the back here. I was doing
some very killer work at such a young age. Think about what we're

"Yeah, whatever, I woke up feeling much better today," I said.

talking about here. I was jerking off at the wonders of the world! Look-

"But for real, let's make sure we go to the Eiffel Tower, okay?
Yeah?!"

ing back, it actually seems crazy that I did this. I had a beautiful

Avi winced. I was basically shouting, overwhelmed by the

mind. It's not that hard to see how I ended up being the adult me
when you look at the kind of shit I was into as an adolescent.

spirit in me, a new purpose in life. I was going to be the first man

I managed to continue my spree of utter awesomeness the

ever, in the history of all men, to masturbate at every important/

following year at the Egyptian pyramids (behind a helicopter on

renowned/wondrous tourist destination across planet Earth. Me!

a landing pad-I'm dead serious), the Leaning Tower of Pisa the

68

69

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

following year (alone, at night, on the lawn, baggy sweatpants),

I thought about Lil' Kim's tits (it was the nineties, so obviously)

but then came my biggest challenge. My Iron Man, my holy grail,

and then looked out onto to the wall to do the deed. It was a cold

my Moby Dick: the Great Wall of China. This would be, by far, the

day, which didn't help things either.

hardest location on the planet Earth to pull off my stunt. But I was
locked in, and nothing was going to stand in my way.

"You not allowed go here!" shouted an aggressive Chinese voice

from behind me, literally at the moment I started cumming. I
pushed my dick against my leg and shot a lumpy spray of semen

~Q

o-0

downward.
The tower had provided me complete and total cover, so I
thought I was in the clear. This dude must have followed me up
there. Fuck!!!! My pants were very clearly unbuckled, and he could
probably see that from where he was standing.
"Ahhhhhhhh!!! No!!!! What?!!!!!" I shouted back to him without
turning around, obviously. I was fully prepared to be shot in

If you've never been to the Great Wall, you're not missing much.

the back. I just hoped he would make it quick. As slowly and as

It's actually horrendous. It's a sea of people who are basically

quietly as humanly possible, I began zipping my fly and putting

just standing on the thing that they came to see, thus making it

my belt through the buckle.

impossible to actually see anything. For my purposes, the wall

"No, no, you. You need go out from here!" the man yelled. I

was very much exposed, and there's nothing around it. It's the

turned around and looked at him. He was a small Chinese man in

Everest of wonder tugs. It was clear from the moment that we

some sort of beige uniform and little hat. There was a gun on his

pulled up that I was going to have to lose my family on purpose

belt. Or a flashlight, I don't know. It totally could've been a gun.

to even scout out possible jerking locations. Hungry and focused,

"Okay, Okay, Okay! I got lost!" I shouted back at him, scrambling

I ditched my family, and for about an hour I scoured every nook

to get my shit together enough to reenter the world. I normally

and cranny of the area. It was sooooooo crowded. I weaved in

took five minutes after each session to relax and reflect. China

and out of the multiracial mob of human beings and ended up

had offered me no such moment.

in front of this tiny staircase that led up to this little tower that
overlooked a good stretch of the wall. Shhhwing!
But the whole vibe in China is not chill, so my normal sexual excitement about these types of moments was not as high as usual.

I was visibly shaken when I found my parents, who had clearly

been frightened by my disappearance.
"Where the hell were you?" my dad demanded.
"I got lost. Let's just go," I said, trying to catch my breath.

70

MONEY PIZZA RE SPE C T

71

JOS H "T HE F AT JEW " OST ROVSKY

"We almost called the embassy, Josh," added my mom, on the

the Taj Mahal so bad, but my parents went when I had a serious

verge of tears. "You need to be more careful. This isn't New York

girlfriend who looked like Jon Levitz and who I wanted to stay

City. They don't understand you here. They'll take you away and

home and fingerblast for days on end. Also, the China situation

we'll never see you again. You do not want to end up in a Chinese
prison!"

had really upset me, and I wasn't sure I was ready to start spilling

"Relax, Mom. This isn't North Korea," Avi said.

"Yeah, exactly. Calm down. I just had to pee and couldn't find
a good spot," I explained.
"Did you pee on the wall?!" asked my Mom, horrified.
"No, no. It's fine . The bathroom had a long line and then I
walked all the way to this other one that ended up being out of
service ...it doesn't matter," I said. "I just really need to get out of
here. This place is so crazy."
So many questions rushed through my head as we drove down
the windy road and away from the Wall. Had that guy seen me mid-

jerk-off? Are there cameras at the Great Wall of China? Did the Chinese
government now know my face and what my penis looks like, and would
they let me leave the country or would I be interrogated (and tortured?)
at the airport?
My leg was doused with jizz and I was shaken up, but I knew I
had done it, and I was brimming with pride. I'd been on this epic
adventure for five years. It was now a large piece of who I was as a
human being. It was probably the main thing about me, actually.
The Wall felt like it was my own personal Vietnam. It had made
me doubt everything I believed in, but I fought through it and I
was safe now.
Unfortunately, that was the last time I'd have the pleasure of
pleasuring myself in eyeshot of true manmade beauty. I wanted

seed internationally again. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll make
it to the Taj Mahal. It's important to have dreams and to hold on
to them tightly. May all your dreams cummmmmm true!!!!

et me start off by saying that I love drugs. Love them. Lovelove-love them. Kids, stay in drugs, don't do school.
Now that we've established my undying love for substances,
let me explain. Drugs, which have ruined the lives of so many,
can be awesome if you know how to use them. You just have to be
reasonable and not be a human with an addictive personality, and
then they're sooooo fun . I've basically tried every drug (I'm sure
there is some shit in the Ukraine that makes your face physically
melt off that I haven't gotten hold of), and at a certain point I was
doing new ones just so I could say I had done them all.

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I really had no desire to do heroin, but at that point it was the

only thing left on my list and just had to be done. It's no different

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JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

one spring weekend when I was in college, some friends

and I took a camping trip to a state park about an hour outside

than when you were a kid and there was a set of toys that said

Manhattan, and the entire goal was to

"Collect alllO!" and you had to have all ten. Also, heroin sucks. I

eat shrooms and be weird. We had done

barfed all over my own bare feet and then sat and watched The

these types of excursions before, and

Price Is Right for a bunch of hours, it was not fun. But I have done it

most of the time they ended up with

all: uppers, downers, barbies, benzos, tutti-frutti, trail mix, liquid

somebody getting naked and falling

asleep in some shrubs. For those of you who don't know, Jews are

lady, that John McCain (yes, coke), dust, foxy, 2CB, DMT, crystal,
ecstasy, Thorazine, rophenol, quaaludes, special K, opium,
ayahuasca, peyote ... the list goes on and on. I always knew that
one day, when I wrote a book, I could say I had done them all.

Today is that day, and it was so worth it.

But for all that experimentation, all the different types of
substances I've abused my body with, my first love has always
been magic mushrooms. I would recommend shrooms to anyone,
whether a hardcore drug user or someone who only smokes pot
on an occasional Sunday and watches twelve straight hours
of Netflix. Shrooms are fun, they grow in the earth (if that
kind of thing makes you feel better), and they are
a hallucinogen, but they're nothing like LSD. When
you take acid, you never know what might happen. You
might think all your fingers have turned into tiny penises
and that your friend is a literal dragon with a gimp mask
on who wants to kill you. You actually see stuff. But on shrooms,
you basically feel strange, think the floor is moving a little bit,
but everything is fun. No, really, you could be in a library eating
a muffin for an entire day and your takeaway of the experience
would be that you had an incredible time.

not outdoorsy. Now I'm sure you can find a Jew in Colorado with
dreads who is a whitewater rafting instructor and knows how to
kill a water buffalo and sleep inside its carcass to keep warm,
but he is basically the only one. Jews are indoor creatures-even
their natural outdoor habitats are indoors: screened-in porches
and huge umbrellas at the beach. We don't camp, and despite
persevering within society amid thousands of years of religious
persecution, we are actually very poor survivalists.
If I had to start a fire in order to survive in the wilderness, I
would probably just curl up into the fetal position, weep myself to
sleep in a pile of leaves, and hope I got mauled by a wild boar. We
don't hunt food, we order it. But there we were, four Jews who all
grew up in New York City thinking that a state park (which had a
gift shop, LOL) was the wilderness.
It was me, Adam, Adam, and Brett. Yes, two guys named Adam.
One was Silverman (Jewy name) and the other was GoldbergLipschultz (Jewier name). We drove Jewiest Adam's mom's Subaru
(she's a lesbian who came out when we were in high school, so of
course she had to get a Subaru; it's sort of the official car of the
New York lesbian mom). The shrooms were bought from a guy

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JOSH "T HE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

named Laser Man, a neighborhood weirdo who must have been

in his fifties. He was a beatnik holdover from the much more
bohemian New York City of yesteryear. Dude was a legit maniac.

Jt--===-lc~~-~

I was once saw him eating a raw potato like an apple, just biting
right into it. Laser Man was a guy who could "get things," and one

everyone realized that we were fully in outer space. We were

of those things was definitely magic mushrooms. I think actually

immediately ravenous and dehydrated. The provisions we'd

maybe that's all he could get. We bought enough for ten people,

brought with us were comical: one small bottle of Poland Spring

piled in the lesbomobile, cranked some Ashanti (it was hot at the

water, forty packs of cigarettes, a small bag of marijuana, one Clif

time, so get over it; I'm not trying to please you), and headed into
the great outdoors.

energy bar that was in the glove compartment of the lesbian's

We arrived in the late afternoon and immediately started

more helpful than the others. We walked around aimlessly for a

setting up camp. It was one of those parks with mostly families

while, smoking cigarettes and talking about how nobody would

in RVs on some sort of continental United States road trip, and we

ever be funnier than Adam Sandler (update: we were wrong),

were definitely going to scar some of their children. Brett is half-

and eventually we came upon a stream. Maybe it was a creek? Is

Jewish and had been to some sort of Outward Bound survival

there a fucking difference? In retrospect, this stream was shitty

program thing, so he knew how to pitch a tent (I'm honestly not

and small, but being that we were deep in the throes of a shroom

even sure that's what you call making a tent). Once we were all

journey, it looked to me like we were basically in Nicaragua under

set up, it was time to get wild. We ate the shrooms, cracked a few

a waterfall surrounded by exotic animals.

shitty domestic beers, and got ready to make some memories.

Subaru, and a machete. Yes, one of those objects seems way

The Adams, Brett, and I decided to get shirtless and trudge

"I don't feel anything," Brett said after like thirty minutes.

through the stream (shoes stayed on, but it seemed necessary at

"Just wait," I said. "We're not gonna be those guys who don't

the time to only remove our shirts). It felt like we walked about one

feel anything so they eat more and then freak out because they
ate too much."
We waited a couple more minutes, then decided to become
exactly those guys.
After eating twice the recommended dosage, we decided to
go on a walk. It was on that first foray into the wilderness that

hundred miles, but it was probably closer to one hundred yards.

One of the Adams stopped.
"Guys, I have a question. Are you ready for this?"
I stared at him in awe, like he was fucking Plato, about to say
something so deep and philosophical that it would shatter my
brain into a million tiny pieces.

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JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

At one point Brett jumped out of a tree and tackled me, we're both
in our underpants (he was wearing dad-style white briefs), and
it was very Brokeback Mountain in the best possible way. Adam 2
found a tiny lizard, and we were all were completely entranced

"Does the alphabet have to be in the order that it's in? It would
still work if it wasn't, right?"
"Oh my God," Brett whispered. "He's fucking right."
We all stood there motionless, staring at Adam like he had
just discovered science. He actually had shattered my brain into a
million tiny pieces. His question was so deep that it still shatters
my brain.
Then Adam 2 broke out singing the ABCs, but in a different
order:
"B, K, R, S, T, H, Y, C, F, M, L, 0, E, D, X, N, I, P, ], Q, A, G, W, U, V, Z."

"Now I know my BKRs," I sang.

"We are high on fucking drugs," Adam 1 belted out triumphantly.
We were totally fucked up.
The stream came to an end and the landscape opened upon a
large forested area. What came next resembled a pack of teenaged
Larry Davids reenacting The Lord of the Flies. We proceeded to paint
our faces with green nose zinc that Adam 1 brought to keep his
nose safe from the sun, which is hilarious because he thought it
was OK to take hallucinogenic drugs and wander around a forest,
but God forbid he get sunburned on his nose. So now our faces
are painted green and we're running around in our underpants
thinking we're in fucking Vietnam, having the time of our lives.

by it.
"I think we've discovered a new species!" he screamed, and we
all came running over.
"Whoa," I said, "this is like .. .life."
LOL. No, seriously, what a bunch of college morons.
We thought we'd discovered a new breed of animal that needed
to be written about by scientists, when in fact we'd literally found
the most basic lizard that can be found anywhere. After walking
around for a few more hours, smoking a joint, and discussing
how Jamie Lee Curtis used to be a hermaphrodite and had a dick
(which is true), we were dirty and sweaty and tripping and happy.
Heading back to camp, we began walking along the stream
from earlier. I was tripping balls and wearing Birkenstocks with
socks, so I obviously fell behind the group. I could hear the guys
ahead of me so I wasn't worried, until I dropped the unlit cigarette
I was holding and decided to get on all fours and look for it. Why

would I do that? We had roughly four thousand cigarettes with us;

finding this one was completely unnecessary. After frantically
searching for a minute or two, like I had lost a check for a billion
dollars, I finally found it. I was overjoyed. A warm tear may have
even rolled down my cheek. It was a glorious moment.
It was only when I stood up and moved on from my personal
triumph that I realized my boys were long gone. I was also at my

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JOSH "TH E F AT J EW " OS TR OVSKY

highest level of shrooming. I had also eaten some tree bark earlier

Allen and my uncle Murray. I rummaged through my pockets and

just to be funny (it wasn't that funny) and was pretty sure I was

besides some loose marijuana, the only thing I had was a pen. I

going to shit my pants.

found a napkin in the bushes from a Ruby Tuesday restaurant

Smashcut to an hour later. I'd been wandering and thinking

and started journaling.

I'd be killed by natives (we're an hour outside of New York City).

This is when I was severely lost. Like Lost. Yes, like the popular
television show. I might as well have been on that island, that's

HOUR 1: If I happened to die, I wanted a record of my last

moments.

how stranded I felt. In the distance I also heard what I thought

HOUR 3: Starving, haven't eaten in a couple hours. I think I'm

was a wolf but may have been a howling frat boy on a camping

dying. Picked a berry but am too afraid to eat it. Licked it

excursion from the nearby college.

Then I realized what to do. I drew a line connecting the sun

once to get some flavor. Nope.

HOUR 4: Why won't these shrooms wear off????????

down to the horizon. In northern latitudes this will give an

HOUR 5: Walked around more, screaming my friends' names.

approximation of cardinal south. It works best when the sun is

They are all way too high to care enough about where I am,

high in the sky, but this would have to do ... AHAHAHAHHAHAHA

or even realize that I'm gone, for that matter. I'm definitely

just kidding. I don't know shit about that stuff. So I just sat on the

on my own at this point. Thought I heard an animal in

ground and smoked cigarettes for a while until I fell asleep in a

the bushes and approached it thinking I could kill it and

pile of leaves.

eat it. It was actually a man, I think he was a mountain

When I woke up I wasn't sure if ten minutes had passed or

man, taking a shit. He screamed something horrible at me.

ten days. The shrooms were still melting my mind and I was

When I came back to seek assistance from him, he was

exhausted. The sun. It was hot. So hot. What I was going to do?

gone. His fecal matter smelled horrendous; he

How was I going to survive? The guys probably assumed I had

is definitely sick. I wonder if he is stranded, too,

gone on a personal solo mission to do crazy stuff. I figured that

and had to just live out here and make a life like

once the shrooms wore off and I didn't come back, they'd get

Tom Hanks in Castaway and be best friends with

worried. I waited for what felt like hours, but was probably closer

a piece of sporting equipment.

to twenty minutes.
I decided then that despite all my Jewish instincts, I was

HOUR 6: Saw a deer. If I could somehow kill it, I

could skin it and sleep inside of its carcass. LOL.

going to conquer the wilderness and survive. I would make all

Hour 100 it feels like: As I lay here, dying, I think about all

my Jewish forefathers who hate the outdoors proud, like Woody

the things I want to say to people that I was never able to

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say. What can I say that nobody ever knew, my deepest

secret ... oh wait, I've got it. I've never seen Titanic and have
lied my whole life about it. Also, I once let a guy give me a
blowjob for ten seconds at a party.
Hour 8 (????): Ate the berry. Immediately made myself

vomit.
Nighttime: It's getting dark so I needed to make a fire.
Rubbed some sticks together-is this a thing that can
actually happen? No way. Seriously, have you ever
tried that?
More Nighttime: I think I'm dead. Is this what being dead

feels like. Am I a ghost? I'm going to watch so many people

masturbating if I am.
I wasn't dead because I woke up at daybreak in a pile of leaves
and my own piss. I was alive. Now dead sober, I had to find
the others. Were they OK? This was my moment. I had to have
strength to get out of this situation. I wanted to live. I needed to
live. A calm came over me, and I knew I'd be able to fight through
whatever the next few hours, days, or even weeks had in store for
me. I have always been a fighter and I wasn't going to give up now.
Using all my remaining strength, I lifted myself off the ground
and began walking through the woods. The sun was peeking out
from behind some trees, and I knew that soon enough it would
beat mercilessly upon me. I had to find water if I was going to
survive.
Now that I was not high I realized that the woods were not as
intense as they were before. In fact, it was more like shrubbery.

TWO minutes later (no, seriously, two minutes) the woods (we'll

still call them that) opened up on a parking lot. I was standing

in the fucking parking lot of a CVS. This whole time I'd thought I
was stranded in the wilderness, with no water, no food, no end
in sight. I was literally one thousand yards from a tremendous
amount of Diet Coke.

few years ago, a local radio station in Tampa Bay, Florida, which I believe was called 104.2 The Jungle, contacted me
through 1\vitter to ask if I'd be the judge at a "hot bikini body"
contest for pregnant women. {Seriously, this exists.) When the
radio producer, Bryyan (and I swear that's how he spelled it.

Two fucking Ys???), initially got in touch, I was ecstatic. Pregnant

women in thongs vying for a $750 cash prize and a gift certificate to a local steak house, and I get to pick the winner? Sign me

the fuck up. I wondered why I hadn't invented it. And so, Bryyan
signed me up. Full disclosure: When I was twelve I had this hot
babysitter named Shannon, who got teen pregnant (she was like
eighteen), and I became obsessed with the idea that there was a
baby inside her vagina. She was single and was bizarrely flirty

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JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

with me. I always wanted to fuck her. This was my chance to live
out that dream.

following day, back in my motel room. I grabbed a French Toast

The night before the competition I flew into Tampa and checked

was some weird, old, truly horrible community center on the

into the motel Bryyan had arranged, then things took a very dark

outskirts of town. The crowd was about a hundred guys, and it

turn. The whole gig went from scummy and fun to scummy and

was absolutely the worst sampling of humanity imaginable. Take

terrifying. The motel was definitely haunted and located next to

a second to step back and imagine the type of person who, first of

an abandoned old house with a sign that read

PALMDALE HOME

all, is available to watch a contest at three p.m. on a Thursday, and,

which honestly looked like it hadn't been open for a

second, wants to see bikini-clad women who are very much with

hundred years. In fear of being raped by the ghosts of a thousand

child dump water on themselves as they gyrate slowly on stage.

molested orphans, I decided to find the closest place to get a

There's an actual100 percent chance that each one of those men

drink, which ended up being a bar a few blocks away.

was a fucking maniac.

FOR BOYS,

Slam breakfast at a Denny's and headed to the venue, which

It was a sweaty walk, because Tampa is moist as fuck and the

The gig itself was pretty straightforward. It was a parade of

worst possible place. It's where you are likely to be murdered by

preggo 4Ws, and then a few ridiculously hot, fuckable pregnant

a guy with a toe ring. Fortunately the Tampanese (not sure what

women. There were so many bad tattoos it was like heaven for

you call people from Tampa. Tampanites? Tampons?) love air-

me. I'm obsessed with people making horrible mistakes that are

conditioning, so when I walked into the bar, I was blasted with a

totally avoidable and completely unchangeable. The best was

polar vortex that soothed my overheated soul.

a tattoo of a "rose" on this chick's calf that had the word baby

Now, I dig a wacky-ass bar scene as much as the next guy, but

written under it in cursive.

this place was mental. It looked like it was a filming location from

The girl I crowned the "winner" was one of the really hot ones,

an episode of True Blood. The bartender was in a tuxedo without

but she wasn't the hottest. Her name was Kensy and she was sexy,

the shirt (why?) and the sole patron, a guy in a Bart Simpson tank

but she wasn't my favorite. Also, did I mention her name was

top who had a very very poorly made glass eye, was drinking a
mojito.

Kensy? I figured that the girl I chose as the winner would probably

So that particular Wednesday, while you were probably getting

girl I gave the runner-up prize to would definitely be down. That's

home from work, I was in Tampa Bay, Florida, drinking with a

why I gave second place to this blonde named Nikki (people, hear

man who'd lost his eye "in a fight with a giant" (his words) and

me: naming your daughter Nikki almost guarantees that they'll

talking about what it feels like to have sex with pregnant women.

end up in this type of situation), who had nice teeth and thick

Needless to say, I got pretty hammered and woke up the

never fuck me, because she'd already gotten my approval. But the

calves.

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JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

After the contest was officially over, I approached Nikki,

and discussed things like how it was weird that both know the

congratulated her, and asked if she wanted to celebrate her

theme song to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air but don't know the words

runner-up status by letting me take her out for an ice cream

to the national anthem. I convinced myself that Nikki was my

sundae. She seemed genuinely excited by my offer.

soul mate. I was even a fan of her plan to name her son Detox,

"Really? With me?"

"Yeah, you were awesome up there. Let's go celebrate."

which, looking back, was possibly the worst idea of all time.
In case you don't already know it, pregnant women go through

"Okay. That's so sweet of you. I'm Nikki, by the way."

a phase where they get extremely horny. Given her body language

"I know."

and her constantly grabbing my leg when she laughed, Nikki was

When we got to Baskin-Robbins, it became clear that Nikki

clearly looking to get banged, and she was not being shy about it.

was genuinely a really nice person.

So when she invited me over to her condo, I knew it was on.

"So I went to the University of Florida to become a marine

Her place was very Florida: lots of wall-to-wall carpeting and

biologist, because I love sharks. Like, I'm obsessed with sharks

a framed poster on the wall that said "When the weather in life

and stuff."

gets bad, dance in the rain." Based on her CD rack (having a CD

"Me, too," I lied. I fucking hate sharks. "Shark Week is my

favorite week of the year, dude."

rack nowadays is so, so dark) she clearly loved DMX as much as

me, which was obviously a major turn-on. I moved things onto

"That's so funny, I love Shark Week, too. So I was like studying

the couch, and we started mouth kissing. It was a little awkward

really hard and stuff but then I met this shithead named

at first on account of the fact that her belly was pretty fucking

Brendan who wore cargo shorts every day and quoted Anchorman.

huge and in the way. I'm clearly not a small man, so I was very

Something about him kept me coming back for more, and then

freaked out about crushing the baby. I was trying to be super

in my junior year Brendan knocked me up and then pretty much

careful while also trying to keep it sexy. Nikki was definitely

disappeared. Which is kinda why I entered the contest. I really

sexually aggressive, and I was into that, but I was distracted by

needed the money."

the other human being between us.

"Totally get it. Brendan sounds like he fucking sucks."

Then ... I felt baby Detox kick me in the arm, which immediately

Nikki was relatively smart, her breath smelled like a basket of

made my penis sad and soft. I was confused by my emotions at that

peaches, and she also told me in the course of our conversation

moment, so I excused myself to the bathroom as nonchalantly as

that she couldn't eat around retarded people. Just like me!!!! We

I could. Staring into the mirror, I asked myself what the fuck was

ended up sitting in that Baskin-Robbins for more than an hour

really going on here.

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JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

This whole trip I'd been dreaming about having sex with a

me that she'd decided against naming her son Detox and instead

pregnant woman. And now here it was, for the taking, and I was

had named him after me. I was truly touched and honored and

getting rattled. Was the kick a sign? That baby was defending his

felt warm inside. To commemorate the moment, I did what felt

territory. "Get the fuck out of here!" he was saying. "Space occupied."

natural: I masturbated in the mirror, my breath fogging up the

But, you know what? Screw Detox, I thought. This was my time.
Time to man up and be one with Nikki.

surface, and whispered "you complete me" to myself.

Like a returning hero, with my boner back on track, I stormed

back into the living room, only to find her sleeping on the
couch, peacefully, using my hoodie as a blanket. I'd been gone
all of five minutes and here she was, sound asleep, like a little
pregnant angel who enters bikini contests to win some extra
money.
Standing there looking at Nikki, I suddenly realized that part
of the reason I wanted to bang her was so I'd have a great story to
tell my friends when I got back. I felt compelled to do something
I never do: the right thing. So, I grabbed a blanket off of her bed
and gently covered her with it. Then I left her $501 cash on her
kitchen table (which, added to the $250 she won for being the
runner-up, made a total of$751) with a note that said, "You're the
real winner, Nikki." Then I left her place and went straight to the
airport to try to get on an earlier flight, because there was no way
in hell I was spending another night in that motel, which was
undoubtedly covered in the semen of men even more horrible
than myself.
Six months later, my Filipino intern Choo-choo called me to
tell me I had gotten a Facebook message (yes, I have an intern who
checks my Facebook messages) from a girl named Nikki telling

twas snowing on the night of the twenty-fourth and had been

snowing for almost a week. New York City was basically frozen
over, and due to a series of falling-outs I'd had over the past
month, I was alone as fuck on Christmas Eve. I didn't have a girlfriend at the time, so I didn't have a girlfriend's family to spend
it with. I guess there were a couple of Upper West Side goyim I
could've tried to do something with, but as a Jew, I honestly don't
give a fuck about Christmas activities. So I went in a different
direction altogether and smoked marijuana alone in my West
Village one bedroom and watched Top Chef with the sound off.
At around 11:30 p.m. I smelled non-weed smoke. It was thick,
too, and coming through my front door and shit, like a movie. I
was like ... wait? Am I high or dead or on fire? An alarm went off and

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JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

pulled me out of my stupor. I shot up and opened the front door

or ferret. Then came the two beautiful lesbians who lived in 2A,

and realized the alarm was coming from the smoke detector in

who I think were models (or actually, now that I think about it,

my hallway. It was going off on every floor. We were all gonna

they might be sisters and not lesbians). All of the occupants of

die maybe? I walked back into my place, grabbed the one thing I

the building were filing out like an odd class of adult children on

wanted to save in that moment-my phone (and my cigarettes)-

a field trip. Everyone looked really scared and concerned for one

and started heading down the stairs from my third story walkup.
I intentionally left my computer, thinking I might be able to get

another.
New York City is really strange in that way. You don't really

a new one from insurance if it got burned up, which is stupid

know your neighbors in any intimate way. You basically live

because I'm pretty sure I didn't have homeowner's insurance.

together, but you've never formally met. It's disgusting and

It was also strange how calm I was. Like the weed had put me

magical and terrifying all at the same time.

in a very chill place. I was as bizarrely calm as Liam Neeson

It was freezing outside, but I was still pretty high from weed

is whenever his daughter or someone he cares about is being

and very much distracted and amused by the parade of people

kidnapped by Albanian sex traffickers.

in their at-home looks outdoors, so despite the smoke and the

"Josh! Okay. Am I glad to see you!" What does that even mean, I
thought.

watering eyes it was all pretty amusing. I wasn't even bothered

"Are you okay?" she continued. It was the yoga lady with bad

building.
Then I remembered Beth. Beth was the deaf, eighty-something-

teeth and big boobs from apartment 3A.

by the smoke that was now billowing out of the first story of the

"I'm fine, dude."

year-old woman who lived above me. She was 100 percent at

"Okay! Good!" She wiped her forehead exaggeratingly. "I think

home because she was at home 100 percent of the time and there

we need to get out of here now, honey!"

"Yeah," I said and followed her down the hallway to the stairs.

was no way she heard the alarm or probably even noticed the
smoke coming from the hallway into her apartment.

in my building who were home on Christmas Eve and were

"Beth," I whispered to myself.

I looked around. The snow was coming down hard now, and

now being displaced by the fire. I still didn't know where it was

there were still no firemen in sight. I didn't hear sirens in the

coming from. No one did. But it was extremely smoky everywhere

distance, either. It occurred to me that there was a possibility that

and it smelled all ashy and sick in the stairwell. There was the

all the firefighters in the entire city were drinking eggnog and

stoned, fat AIDS guy from 2C and the fashion PR woman with a

celebrating with their families. Who was working tonight? Jews?

pill problem from 4F, who was carrying some kind of small dog

There are no Jewish firefighters.

On the way down to the street I ran into the rest of the people

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JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

Pulled by some unknown force, I started walking back toward

the building.

I ripped her out of her chair and spun her around, her old tits
bouncing all over the place. I lifted her into my arms like a

"Dude! What are you doing?" screamed a bewildered Yoga

wounded puppy. We were both still shrieking. As I ran downstairs

Boobs from behind me. I didn't even turn around. I just kept

through the smoke-filled stairwell I stumbled and nearly dropped

walking. I was going to save Beth. She needed me. There was

her onto the floor. I burned my hand on the scalding-hot door

no way I was gonna let this old hoarder woman die on

Christmas Eve. Not tonight. Not on my watch, Beth.

GG

I'm a big dude, six foot three last time I checked,

handle to the outside, which by this point had been cooked by

the flames coming from the floorboards. So instead, I kicked it in.
The door flung open and we emerged onto the street.

so I was able to jump my way up onto the lowest rung on the

ladder hanging from the fire escape and pull myself up. It should

It was all a blur, but looking back on it now, a severe shiver of

fear shoots down my spine.

be noted that this singular act was the first time I'd worked out

I carried Beth, triumphantly, out of the building just in time.

since .. .literally ever. Superhuman strength made itself available

People were clapping. I was a hero. It was like a mini 9/11, but

to me in this fortuitous moment, miracles were taking place, and

instead of thousands perishing, I'd saved all of the lives that were

the presence of the Holy Spirit was felt by all who were witnessing

in danger.

me. Anyway, I got up to the fourth floor, wrapped my shirt around

I let Beth down gently and with caution. She seemed pretty

my hand, broke Beth's window from the outside, and climbed in.

fucked up by the whole thing. I don't know if she totally understood

In addition to the smoke and fumes, it smelled like a library filled

what was going on, but then neither did I. Someone in the crowd

with cat shit on account of the cat shit and newspapers that filled

told me that I'd only been in there for about a minute but it felt

Beth's disgusting apartment.

like a lifetime. I was just glad we weren't all dead. I was really

She was sitting in a chair in the far corner of the room. I

hurting. I was spitting up black soot and it felt like I was dying.

couldn't tell if she was asleep or dead already. I ran over to her,

The FDNY arrived and a ton of fire dudes ran into the lobby of

leaping over a coffee table and two cats, and started to shake her

the building. The woman who lived in the massive brownstone

violently.
"Beth!!!! Nooooo!!!!" I was screaming and coughing. The smoke
was burning my lungs, and I could taste the ashes in my mouth.
Shit was getting very real. Beth woke up and started screaming,

M;~
~(

27

next door had come out to see what

in the actual fuck was going on.
"What's going on' I hea<d sirens'
Should I not go in my apartment?"

too. For a couple seconds we were just staring into each other's

she asked the crowd. She looked scared but not that scared

eyes screaming at the top of our lungs. It was kind of magical.

because she was holding a glass of red wine in her left hand. I'd

98

99

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JOSH ' THE FAT JEW' OSTROVSKY

talked to her once before at the corner deli because I thought she

sang carols, and it quickly became the best Christmas Eve ever.

was hot in a Lorraine Bracco-type way. I had no idea she lived in

Even Beth seemed to be loving it.

"I thought I was going to die tonight!" she announced to the

the swanky-as-fuck house next to my not-as-nice building.

"It's fine to go back into your house ma'am!" yelled a firefighter
standing by his truck.
The scene on my street was really wild. All these people,

crowd. We all loved Beth and were so happy that she was still
with us. The odd mixture of people that were my neighbors were

scared, unsure whether their earthly possessions would be

quickly becoming like family to me.

It also got very emotional around that fireplace. The

destroyed. Would we all be homeless on Christmas Eve? How

combination of building fire drama and it being Christmas Eve

savage would that be? Just a bunch of mostly stoned New Yorkers

and wine and everyone thinking about their families and what's

roaming the streets of the city in their pajamas all night long.

important to them-it was a lot, and some people were crying as

Fighting through the snow for survival.

they shared Christmas stories. A few hours later, we were told

"The firemen just told me we can't go in for a few hours at

that the building fire was put out and no one would actually be

least," Yoga Boobs announced to the group, looking devastated.

homeless, thank Jesus. Literally! Everyone shuffled themselves

"But they said it was just in the basement and the damages will

out of the apartment and back to our building. But I was too

be minimal."

shaken up to leave, because despite my heroic efforts and my

"Why don't you all come warm up by my fireplace? I have

undeniable valor in the face of danger, I was scared, and I hadn't

plenty of space," Lorraine said to the group of maybe twelve of us.

had time to process it all until that moment. Lorraine Bracco had

"Great idea!" a voice from the crowd proclaimed.

drunk enough red wine and gobbled enough Valium to kill us all,

"Let's do it," I said, looking into her eyes trying to see if she was

so she didn't mind that I stayed, and I ended up in her arms by

DTF. I'm pretty sure she was because she smiled at me. Her teeth

the fire, my head nestled against her extremely expensive and

were very wine stained, which I'm very into.

well-built fake breasts. I slept like a baby.

The house was beautiful. Like, her brownstone was what would

Was it worth risking my life for a woman that I barely knew,

happen if a Restoration Hardware catalogue had unprotected

a woman who meant almost nothing to me? There is a famous

sex with an issue of Elle Decor {I might not be straight). We all sat

quote I love that says "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting

around the fire, and she poured us wine and brought out some

a hard battle," and that is something I always aspire to achieve.

food. Turns out, Lorraine was alone on Christmas Eve because

Also, none of this happened. LOL. Like not at all. I would never,

she'd worked too hard at her finance job and her husband left her

ever, ever go back into a burning building. Ever, for any reason

and took the kids. We drank more-she even had eggnog-we

whatsoever. I am so fucking selfish. There was actually an elderly

100

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

woman who lived down the hall from me, but why would I save
her from a fire? She was sooooo old and on the doorstep of death,
why would I risk this gorgeous face for her? And most importantly
here, I'm so fucking fat and Jewish that my weight and anxiety
prohibit me from doing 99 percent of anything physical or
potentially dangerous. So, climbing an old fire escape ladder and
breaking a window with my hand would be completely out of the
realm of possibilities of things I would ever, ever, ever do. Who
am I, Jason Bourne? Would you have done this? Don't even think
about saying yes.

104

105

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

HAIKU

REGULAR POEM: HER

I saw her in the park

thirty-one years old

still don't know what to do with
my arms when I sleep

Her hair was dark, at peace

I saw her on the train
Her hands were small but graceful
I saw her in a shop
Her smile a warm mystery
I saw her on the street
Her skin was sweet and tan
I saw her at a park
My eyes were filled with joy
I would eat a full meal out of her asshole
Then miniaturize myself and crawl into her vagina
And sleep inside it like a satin pink slumber bag

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JOSH 'THE FAT JEW' OSTROVSKY

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

~1-~~-~------------------------------------------------

AGvo ~ ~ t&.t CQJt Bt ~

FAT JEW'S RECIPE FOR PRISON WINE
If for some reason you ever find yourself in prison, you're
going to be sooooo bored, and you may also get shan ked
in the abdomen by a Guatemalan gang member with a
shiv he made out of a carrot, but either way, you're going
to want to get drunk. Hooch is hard to come by when
the white man has you caged, so you 'll probably have

b-10tr~

A~cQJ1.4~~fd
10-bO~uJu.
1-S~i-4~tfc~
1-3 pitctt4~
1b Mt.Ctt

4 fAp.vQ,Wt.-tfw ~i-lttr ~ i.lt Jd :(

to go DIY. Rather than asking someone how to make

prison booze and seeming wildly uncool,just memorize

1. Pul tRt tr~ ~ ~ tRt-v i.lt tRt ~

this recipe. (Actually, how do I get this book into prison

l. d)W tRt ~~fAil Ut tRt ~

libraries? Seriously, how does that work?) This recipe is

J)Jltft~.

very simple, and the result will get you drunk enough to
forget that your life is in complete shambles and you've

1. AJl tRt ~tc~.

disgraced your entire family (unless you're in there for

s. AJl tRt ~ (tRt ~ ~ tRt ~t<nt p-wct#).

murdering them). Also, it's fun to make!

b. AJl

You'll need some supplies, some of which you can steal

tRt VQ.fut.
7. &J tRt ~ ~ ~t tRt .& 111At 4 ii vii (1111A"- ~

from the mess hall, some of which you can buy from the

8. &~~t tft ~ ~ VIWiv trta. ~A VIWiv VQ.fM.IfliM. J

prison grocery store (I don't think that's what it's called),

and some you'll have to get by... other means. Yes, like
sucking a dick.

uv~ fut..u. Q,

ktt

1. ~S-7~. ii'i-~&~.
10. ~u- 3-1 ~tit Q, etrllf# CJ1.d vii~~ tr~

~t. pWI.i-vJlvJ Q. 11ict pttct 4 Ctd ~ ~ ttict pi4-

Jv.d ~ tr-'llt Ut Fl

11./t vilL~4~ (1111AIJ.f 4

o say that my existence was fueled by cocaine in most of

2009 would be an understatement. Maybe that sounds really

, OIIUI

dark, but it wasn't. It was actually really fucking fun . I was living
alone in my parents' apartment on the Upper West Side. They'd
just moved to New Zealand for a year because my dad, a
physician, was taking a sabbatical/having a midlife crisis.
Thankfully that meant leaving me in their duplex.
Within an hour of my parents moving out I had
these two bull-dyke lesbians I knew help me move all of
the valuable possessions (art, sculpture,

'fiJ

heirlooms) that belonged to my mom and dad into a

storage unit I'd rented. The debauchery I was going
to bring upon their home would inevitably destroy
everything it came in contact with. I'm talking my framed baby

115

116

117

MONE Y PI ZZA RE SPECT

J OS H " THE FAT J EW " OS TR OVSKY

pictures being used as a coke mirror level of disrespect. I was

"It's a huge market. I just came back from a children's clothing

living carefree and rent-free, and I'd always have my degenerate

trade show and there is so much competition in the space now."

friends over to watch me be ridiculous and irresponsible. I filled

"As in, multiple Goth baby companies?" I asked, accompanied

one entire room of the apartment with sand and made it look like

with an eye roll.

"You are so out of the loop, Fat Jew!" she exclaimed, basically

a shitty beach. I used their pool table as the dining room table for
just about every meal, and I primarily peed in the sinks.
In addition to inviting my group of friends over to the apart-

screaming.
It was at this exact moment that I realized that she, like me, was

ment every night, I'd also invite this douche canoe named Keith,

also coked the fuck up. I could tell by the way she was breathing

who I never would've never hung out with but for the fact that he

and the tone of her voice. And when you're high on cocaine,

was constantly in possession of a shit ton of drugs. It was a wonderful time in my life.

nothing makes you happier than someone else who is also high.

lines of coke off my parents' wedding album, Keith suggested that

-g

we head to a loft party in Chinatown. The party sounded awe-

:Q

One night while we were chilling at the house, doing a few

some, because when you're coked up literally everything sounds

Q)

Q)

If you've ever done coke. you know that it makes you talk at least three times
faster than normal. So as you read this next bit of dialogue. please read it
three times as fast as you normally read. It's okay if you miss some of the

V'l words. or even if you miss the entire point. just read frantically. That is what
it's like when you are on coke! Nothing that anyone is saying really matters.

awesome. If someone had invited me to look at their garbage can

at that moment, I would've happily gone. When we got there I

"Do you have any coke?" I asked.

immediately struck up a conversation with this girl named Lil'

"Oh yeah. Lots. Let's go to the bathroom, blow some lines, and

Website, who I kind of knew from Facebook. I'm not kidding, that

tt
v

then go to my current fave place in NYC, Dave and Buster's."

was her name, for real. She looked like Linda Perry,

"I really like this plan."

the lead singer of 4 Non Blondes. White skin, blonde

So that is what we did. Bathroom, coke, cab, Dave, Buster. Once

dreads, heavy makeup. Lil' Website was telling me

we were there we saddled up at the bar, which was wedged be-

about her job, working for this company that made

tween the Skee-Ball and the fake casino, and got into a deeeeeep

clothing for Goth babies.

"Are they actually Goth babies?" I ask.

conversation.
"There are no good places in NYC to get a tattoo and eat

"What? Yes. Of course there are Goth babies. Every baby I know

dinner at the same time," I said as I took a bite of my Miso-Glazed

is a Goth baby," she replied, a bit too angrily.

"Come on. That can't be true."

Salmon. "It seems so obvious, and I'm honestly not sure why this
is an untapped market," I offered.

118

MONE Y PIZZA RE SPECT

"No. No. You're totally fucking right. That's genius." Lil' Web's

119

J O SH "THE FAT JEW " OS TROVSKY

"I fucking hate everyone at this party," she said.

mind is blown right now, as much by my business acumen as she

In the interest of my penis, I decided to take this relationship

was by the Black Bean Veggie Burger she was eating. Dave and

to the next level.

"I fucking hate everyone everywhere, so I'm so down to leave.

Buster's does not fuck around with its menu.

"Right? Like I just thought of that, and I was like, holy shit,
that's fucking genius," I added.

Let's get out of here," I said, and we were out of there, my brain

"Or, or, or, let's start a social network! Mark Zuckerberg did it,

they had just been hit with.

Lil' Website and I were out of our minds. She told me that she

so why couldn't we do it too? Facebook is fucking lame."

"No, you're right, dude"-! was so coked up-"but, imagine
this: breast implants ... with wifi in them."
"Should we go to the aquarium together tomorrow? I haven't

been in so long and I love how the walruses have mustaches."

"Yes. Yes. Yes," I replied, although I would have said yes to
literally anything in order to have sex with her.

and heart desperately trying to process the additional chemicals

wanted to "fuck my face," which sounded like a great idea, so we

headed home to my place, which was exactly eighty-three blocks
from the bar we were sitting in. Which at the time seemed totally
walkable. Plus we needed time to hash out our future boob wifi
business.
The details are fuzzy, but at some point on the way home, I

"Should we do more coke?" she offered.

"Yes," I replied.

think we got into a huge argument about whether Nazis were the

"Yessssssssssss!" she yelled, our faces now close enough

which side I was arguing, which is insane considering members

together that I could see the ring of chapped skin around her lips,

of my family were killed in the Holocaust. But that's coke for you.

which for some reason I didn't find gross.

I do remember fingering Lil' Web up against a Dumpster, stealing

most fashionable group of people of all time. I honestly don't know

"Yes. Yes. Yes." I couldn't stop saying yes.

some heads of lettuce being delivered to a grocery store, and

I definitely need to spruce up a bit so I was stoked that she

her screaming at me and angrily getting into a taxi. No biggie.

had more. After a few lines each, we made out for a couple min-

I walked the rest of the way by myself, stopping for a delicious

utes (coke makes you want to fuck) . Did a few more lines after

street gyro along the way, before returning to my

we made out and then exited the tiny bathroom, back into the
arcade, which seemed to have escalated into overdrive while

parents' place.
As soon as I walked in the door, I took off my

we were gone. Teens were screaming and playing those games

pants and stumbled past my parents' bedroom, where I'd

where you dance really fast. I think we were in the middle of a

birthday party.

been staying since they moved out. The chemicals in my system

and my parents' empty apartment at five a.m. combined to create

120

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MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JOS H "THE FAT JEW " OSTROV SK Y

a powerful nostalgia, so I walked into my childhood room and

laid down.

to go into my old bedroom, with no idea that I was going to show

From the top bunk of my bunk bed, staring at the ceiling, my

After my grandfather screamed at me ("You are a giant bearded

heart fucking exploding out my chest, I could see just enough

infant! ") and expressed to me how pathetic my generation was

sunlight spilling through the blinds to give me anxiety about how

(apparently we need to stop spending all our time "jacking off" to

late/early it was. I recapped the previous twelve hours of poor

Facebook, which he calls Spacebook), he picked up the bedsheet

decisions and wondered why my fingers smelled so strange. My

and did his best to wipe himself off. He stormed out to go take a

stomach started making a crazy noise. I started breathing heavily,

shower, and that was the last I saw of him that night.

leaned over, and threw up approximately three gallons of sewage.

up, coked up and filled with bad gyro, and puke onto him.

The next afternoon I woke up and mentally recapped the

horrible events of the previous evening. Then I masturbated in
near silence because I wasn't sure if my grandpa was still in the
house, and I knew we'd gone through enough in the last few hours.
Finally around three p.m. I climbed out of bed to face the day
and to try to sweep up the pieces of my shattered life. Grandpa
was in the kitchen eating Good & Plenty candies and reading a
newspaper, both of which are old-timey and gross to the max but

It felt amazing. Like I'd exorcised the demons of the night. Like
I had cleared the way toward a cleaner, healthier lifestyle. It was

also so adorable and cute. I broke the awkward silence: "If you
want to vomit on me later, you totally can." We both laughed.

easily one of the greatest feelings of my entire life to this day.

I sat down on his lap and began kissing his neck, he mumbled

And then the light flipped on. Standing there, in some old-timey

something like "Your skin is soft like a woman I knew in Korea

striped pajamas with giant plastic buttons, covered in the puke,

was my grandfather.

during the war." There was so much heat between us, and I felt
like my body was on fire . Guys, just kidding. Holy fuck , imagine if that

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he screamed in his thick Russian

accent.

actually happened. I wish I could have seen your face when you thought I

I started screaming like a seven-year-old girl. Thrns out, he'd

What actually happened was that I sat down at the table with

been staying in the apartment for a few days, but no one had told

him, we drank a cup of coffee, and I invited him to do something

me, and I hadn't noticed him! Apparently there was a loud noise

that I knew he wanted to do: go to the off-track betting place on

coming from the air-conditioner in the guest room, so he decided

Lexington Avenue. We spent the rest of the day watching guys

was hooking up with my own grandfather.

122

M O NE Y PIZZ A RE SPECT

with mustaches blow their kids' community college funds on

horses with names like Wallpaper's Wish and Let's Go Dancing!
My grandfather and I didn't talk much, and there was some-

123

JOS H 'T HE FAT J EW ' OS TR O V SKY

"You're a fucking idiot. Just like your father. Who do you like
in this next one?" he asked, looking back up at the screen, which
displayed the names of the horses in the next heat.

thing comforting about it. After a long night of screaming lots of

"Pot-of-Gold?" I replied, having no idea who to go with.

nothing at other people, it felt great to just be comfortable with

"There you go. Now we're talking."

someone in total silence. I think it was the first (and perhaps only)
time I actually appreciated my strong, hard-working, silent-type,
immigrant grandfather.
"Honestly, I'm really sorry that I threw up on you like that," I
said, looking up at him. I meant it.
My grandfather then turned toward me and stared for what
felt like an eternity. The look on his face made me scared I'd
brought this whole thing up again.
"Don't," he said quietly.
"Don't what?" I was confused.
"You and your goddam stupid generation. Always apologizing
for everything. A bunch of pussies. Every last one of you."
"What are you talking about? I'm just saying I'm sorry."
"Well, stop. You messed up. You puked on me. You didn't mean
to do it. So stop apologizing. So what? You puked on me. It's not
the first time I've been puked on, and I've puked on people before."
"Okay?"
"Also, you insult me by apologizing. I'm not a pussy. I can
handle a little puke. I've seen shit that was way worse that that ...
way...worse. So grow some balls, be a man, and own the fact that
you couldn't handle your shit last night."
"So don't apologize, then?"

(P~

~ ~ his

book has al<eady taught you so many things, am I dght?

Yes, I'm right. Now, granted, most of what you've learned is based
on mistakes I've made and the collateral life damage that my decisions have caused, but having me as sort of a bizarre moronic
older brother who paves the way for you by doing unimaginably
stupid shit and showing you how not to live is definitely beneficial
to your life.
In case you weren't aware, I was raised in New York City
and attended private school, because my parents are extremely
wealthy doctors. (JK JK JK-They weren't that rich; they are
incredibly sensible Jews who eat seafood at diners, so gross.)
Manhattan private schools are the #1 breeding ground for overprivileged douche canoes whose parents are constantly traveling
for business and thus are basically raised by Trinidadian nannies

125

126

127

MONEY PIZZA RESPE C T

JOSH " THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

FJ'S 11 COMMANDMENTS

and ATM cards with unlimited funds. After college I traveled the
world (hid from the real world) and studied horrendous people
around the globe, immersing myself into their culture, living

I.

among them to observe them on a daily basis. Ravers in Norway.

DO NOT EXPRESS YOURSELF

THROUGH A HAT.

Frat boys in Australia. DJs in Los Angeles. Fishermen in China. In

a study conducted solely by me, I've met over 65 percent of the
worst people on the planet.
Basically, I'm an asshole anthropologist.
I have finally decided to use my findings for the greater good,

here are so many wonderful ways to let the world know that

you are the unique and special snowflake that your mother

always said you were: Sing, dance, get a tattoo of a gorilla wearing

to take all this compiled knowledge and use it to help the world.

sunglasses while surfing, become one of those people who man-

Whether you are fifteen years old and have your life ahead of you,

ually masturbates animals to collect their semen for research-I

or fifty and just realizing that you might actually be the worst,

don't care what you do to separate yourselffrom the crowd. Anything but

here is a guide to helping you avoid pitfalls along the way. I can't

wearing a stupid hat. You think it makes you seem fun, right? Or

tell you what you should be doing, but I certainly can tell you
what you shouldn't.

fashionable? No. It just makes people hate you.

If I remember the Bible correctly, Moses comes down from a

mountain holding two giant stone tablets, and etched into those
tablets are the rules that form the entire basis of the Jewish
religion. Now imagine me, clad in white linen, emerging from
a strip club off the side of a highway on a Thursday morning,
holding two tablets of my own that read:

Exceptions: The Kentucky Derby, orthodox jews, court jesters

at Renaissance fairs.

128

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

129

JOSH ' THE FAT JEW ' OSTROVSKY

...

thoughts, and even if your job is "cool," don't make it th.e thing

II.
DON'T TALK ABOUT YOUR JOB.

you talk about the most. Nobody wants to hear about it, I fucking
swear. People are generally polite and will definitely sit and listen
to a story about how some guy you work with is always eating tuna

s you get older, you will find that your life becomes increas-

for lunch, but in their hearts and brains they will be picturing a

ingly devoid of social interaction and joy, and you will spend

scenario where they are pushing you into some shrubs or off a

exorbitant amounts of time working and learning what a mort-

massive cliff to your death!

gage is (I have no idea, and it's been explained to me like three

Exception: Leonardo DiCaprio. That guy's job involves sleeping with

times). As much as you want to be like "no way, brahhh, I'll never

sixteen women born in the former Yugoslavia simultaneously.

be defined by my job!" you most definitely will. At some point

Leo, tell me all about it and, please, don't ever stop.

during your journey you will be forced to find something, anything, to do for a living. It might be something that you are passionate about, or maybe you will hate it. But you will have to actually work. Or just be homeless, which is very chill if you're fine
with smelling like butthole.
Most people just end up getting jobs, though. Even the really
crazy people. I know some dudes who used to smoke formaldehyde (yes, the liquid you store human brains in, and yes, you can
smoke it) four times a week and would try to rip their own penises off for fun , who now, in their thirties, have found careers.
Remember when I referred to life as "your journey"? LOLOLOLOL that was terrible.
Obviously I encourage you to follow your dreams and dive in
headfirst. But please, please, please, even though you are way
into your job, even though it consumes 90 percent of your life and

130

MON E Y PIZZA RESP ECT

III.
DON'T DO COCAINE.

ocaine is the greatest gift the world has ever received. It is

responsible for some of its greatest art, legendary ideas, and

most phenomenal stories. Imagine Charlie Sheen driving on the

PCH in 1992 in a convertible, doing key bumps, not looking at the
road, with a girl definitely named Nikki who had rock hard breast
implants and hates her dad sitting shotgun, blasting George Michael and laughing hysterically at nothing in particular. That
would be amazing. But guess what? That's not you. (Unless Sheen
is reading this, in which case NVMD.)
Instead, you're probably in the bathroom of a holiday party
(pick any holiday) with some guy you barely know named Jeff
talking about how Under the Tuscan Sun with Diane Lane was actually really good. Don't know that movie? Doesn't matter. It sucks.
The point is that cocaine will get you into an overly intense conversation about some shit you absolutely don't care about.
On top of that, cocaine leaves your breath smelling like a
corpse filled with lo mein and makes you a bad listener, a loud
talker, and a constant nodder, because you are saying yes to anything people are telling you.
I'm not a doctor, but cocaine can't kill you. I mean, I guess it
can, but you have to be seriously rich and doing a truly insane

131

JOSH "TH E F AT J EW " OSTROVSKY

amount of it. The real danger in cocaine lies in how much of a

monster it makes you, so just don't.

Exception: You are under a waterfall on a cliff at sunset in

South America. Go for it.

133

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MONEY PIZZA RESP ECT

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

IV.

v.

DO NOT BE OVERLY POSITIVE.

DON.T USE A DORITOS

BAG AS A CONDOM.

his is exactly why I live in New York and not Los Angeles. A

large number of people who reside in LA are constantly posi-

ou may be blackout drunk and not want to go all the way to

tive, and I believe that the person who is constantly positive will

be the first one to murder you. They are not to be trusted. Anyone

out with her and talk. From experience, I can tell you: Don't tie a

who is like "it's all good, brahhh, namaste" needs to nama-stay the

Doritos bag around your penis and secure it with a rubber band.

fuck away from me.

It will chafe your penis and make it red, like E.T.'s glowing finger.

Exception: When you are basically being crushed by life and need to

surround yourself with overly positive deluded people who will make
you feel not so horrendous. You have six months tops to snap out
of it, or you will get murdered.

a store to buy condoms, but you just have to. Or just hang

Trust me.
Exceptions: None.

135

134

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

VI.
DON.T MAKE MOVIE QUOTES
YOUR PRIMARY COMEDY SOURCE.
our ability to quote a funny line from a movie does not, by

extension, make you funny. I stopped having sex with a girl

because she used the Borat voice twice, non-ironically.

Exceptions: None.

VII.
DON.T SAY WORDS IN OTHER
LANGUAGES IN THE ACCENT OF
THAT LANGUAGE.
othing is worse than a white girl who once traveled to Barce-

lona for ten days ordering lunch at a Spanish restaurant and

rolling the fuck out of her rs like "I'll have the empahhhhhnahhhdas with rrrrrrrrropo vieja."
You know who does this all time? Alex Trebek.
Contestant: "What are the Andes Mountains?"
Alex Trebek: I'm sorry, the correct response was 'What is
Ma-chu Pi-cchu."'

Even if you speak the language fluently, go easy. Or just order

in that language. Nothing wrong with you being worldly and bilingual. Just don't be an asswipe.
Exception: Sofia Vergara.

137

136

MON E Y PIZZA RE SP ECT

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

VIII.

IX.

DON"T BE AFRAID TO EAT

AT STRIP CLUBS.

DON"T AGGRESSIVELY TALK

ABOUT SEX ALL THE TIME. UNLESS
YOU WANT PEOPLE TO THINK
YOU"REGAY.

trip club food has a bad rap, and deservedly so. For years it

was wings, tater skins, hush puppies, and pizza kept under a

heat lamp. But times have changed. Strip club chefs are taking

his applies to members of both sexes. Anytime you talk about

bold and daring risks in the kitchen, and it's producing some

phenomenal results. There is now a strip club open in Portland

you seem really really gay. If I ask you how your date last night

that is entirely vegan; the quinoa-stuffed bell pepper is a reve-

went and your response is "Dude, I used my fuck rod to slam her

lation. In New York City, Rick's Cabaret in midtown is serving

right in the pussy slot!" you sound like a guy who has never had

a Caesar salad that is a tour de force on the palate. They are

sex with an actual woman before. When you tell me that you

making their croutons in house using ciabatta baked fresh each

"tackled a slam pig and stuffed her axe wound," I assume that

morning in Brooklyn. Down in Miami at Elleven, the caprese

your actual goal is having anal sex with men, because no actual

salad will legitimately whisk you away to southern Italy with

straight men speak to each other like that.

its incredibly fresh buffalo mozzarella and sliced heirloom tomatoes. Strip clubs have become a destination for culinary delights. It's time for us as a country to abandon the old prejudices
and embrace the new wave of gastronomic genius emerging
from these establishments. Don't be afraid any longer.
Exceptions: Strip clubs in Tampa Bay. The food at those is insane.
I ate a pizza with pineapple on it while drunk at one and my

anus was an explosive volcano. A volcanus?

sex constantly and are overtly aggressive about it, it makes

Exception: Dan Bilzerian.

138

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

139

JOSH ' THE FAT JEW ' OSTROVSKY

...

X.

XI.

DON.T TALK SO LOUD.

DON.T EAT SUSHI AT A

GAS STATION.

s eriously, you are screaming. All the time.

Exceptions: None.

~ust me. Trust me. Please trust me. It seems pretty obvious

I that eating sushi at a convenience store is not something a

thinking person would do. But I've done it. And it did not go well.
So I felt it best to just put it out there, in print.
Exceptions: Meth addicts.

1111~

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I AlREADY BOUGHT SOHE TINY
~LASSES I JUST COULDNT PASS UP!
OH DARUNG, If IT'S A BOY
CAN WE NAHE HIH BONO?

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eople have a negative view of prostitutes. I get that. They

bang people for money. But I know a lot more hookers than most,
and I've been able to form a different opinion of professional sex
workers in my time on Earth. I know what you're thinking. Why

would such a handsome, sexy, creative, talented specimen need to pay for
sex? But my hooker proclivity isn't only about actual sex. Prostitutes can do so many things besides suck dicks, fuck dicks, and

, 311111

pretend to like you. You just need to give them a chance. You can
hire a working girl to do any number of random tasks, sexual or
otherwise.
It's really so much fun . And then you can still have sex with
them if you feel like it.
Maybe it's because I wasn't born with any human emotions or maybe it's that I've become so desensitized because of

159

161

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

160

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

pornography and strip clubs, but I don't get excited by standard

who I wanted to be best friends with to an anti-Semitic monster),

or normal sexual encounters anymore. It just doesn't cut it for

but I still had so much love for Braveheart, partially because of the

me. There needs to be more to the story than just my penis en-

themes of honor, loyalty, and the desire for personal freedom, but

tering something. Therein lies my issue: Most humans aren't

mostly because it has dudes on horses wielding axes that are on

on my level of deviance. You can't just ask someone you've just

fire. Through the cloud of hangover, I, like Shawn Carter, had a

met if they'd mind dressing up in a JonBenet Ramsey outfit and

moment of clarity. Inspiration swept through me like an electri-

playing out a murder fantasy that you've cooked up. That takes

cal charge. I leapt up, scattering penne across the bed, grabbed

time, nurturing, and a mutual respect for one another. And I'm

my iPhone, and called my fave service.

not really into work or effort when it comes to sex. Which is why

I had them send over two escorts to my apartment. This

I rely on professionals. You can pay them to do basically anything.

particular company guarantees their girls in under an hour or

I've paid hookers come over and cook me pasta, clip my toenails,

you get to have sex with them for free, which is the only thing

and watch Mean Girls with me. Not to get too psychological, but

darker than having sex for money. By the way, that's not a joke-

it's very interesting how they react when approached about these

it's literally the stated HR policy. So basically the girls are never

types of activities. You would think they'd be overjoyed to not

ever ever ever late. Meanwhile, I spent the next thirty minutes

have my Shrek-like body on top of them thrusting my cham-

getting things organized.

pagne-cork shaped penis inside of them, but some almost prefer

Once my place looked and smelled less like a doodoo diaper

sex to alternative activities. If you want to fuck them, fine, but ask

filled with chicken tikka masala, I showered and posted up by

one to organize your spice rack and suddenly they think you're a

the doorway with my front door left slightly ajar. The buzzer rang.

murderer and want to leave. It's fifty-fifty.

A couple of New Year's Days ago, I was recovering from a hell-

"Who is it?" I asked in an overly friendly voice that ironically

sounded murder-y.

ish night of molly/vodka/coke/weed/Xanax/coke/weed/Xanax/

"Us," a voice said through the intercom.

Indian food by lying in bed and eating a gigantic bowl of pasta

"Us who?" I replied in my most coy voice.

with the Indian leftovers mixed in. As I flipped through the chan-

"Are you fuckin' kidding, buddy-"

some other shitty channel that actually isn't shitty because it ba-

"Okay, yeah yeah, I'm kidding." I pressed the buzzer. "Come

on up."

sically only played Braveheart. My relationship with Mel Gibson

"Hey there, big fella," the shorter one said as she walked into

had gone through a very rocky period in the prior few years (as

rny place. She looked like a cross between Danny DeVito and

he transitioned from the hunk with flowing hair in Lethal Weapon

Rhea Perlman. So ... not hot, but fun looking? (Side note: Ironically,

nels I stumbled upon Braveheart, which was playing on TNT or

163

162

JOS H "T HE FAT JEW " O STROVSKY

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

I did fuck Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman's daughter IRL. Maybe
I can cover that in my second book. Also, Mom, if you're reading
this, which is fucked up to begin with, IRL is Internet slang for
"in real life.") The other girl was medium sized with big tits and a
birthmark on her neck.
"I appreciate what you're going for with the whole big fella
routine, but that's really not necessary," I replied. She stared back
at me blankly.

very fucking real. I mean , sometimes in New York you can get away w ith
just smoking out your window, but then there's always th is one neig hbor
who keeps complaining about the smel l, and then t he super get s on
yo u about it, which is not that great , so you stop for a while and go bac k
to walking out to the street three hundred times a day t o smoke. unt il it
gets freezing again and you get lazy so yo u start to just smoke out of th e
window again, but then that dirty hoarder neighbor lady starts to complai n
again .. .you get the idea.
Anyway, this apartment didn't have anyth ing goi ng for it but t he
outdoor space, but you can see how im portant t hat space was t o me.

"I'm Crystal," said the medium girl, who was hotter than the
first one. She reminded me of Brooke Burke, but more hooker-y.

OK. Back to New Year's Day. So there we were, the three of us,

She also didn't look anything like Brooke Burke. She looked more

just two hookers and me. Crystal was very talkative and nice. But

like Brooke Hogan. Actually, she also kind of looked like Paul

the DeVito one was getting less attractive every time she opened

Hogan.

her mouth.

"Cool. I'm Josh . Make yourself comfortable in my humble

abode," I said.
I would never actually say "abode" in normal conversation, but
the nervous excitement just got to me in that moment.

"So this is a shithole, huh?"

"Why, yes, it is. Thank you for noticing," I replied.
"You have a poster of Usher standing shirtless in the rain? Are
you gay?"
"Dawn, don't be fuckin' rude." Crystal quickly added, "There's

Q)
+-

Q)

32
lf)

NOW L ET ME PA INT YOU A PI CT URE W IT H WO RDS

(BECAUS E TH IS IS A BOOK):
At the time, I was living in this tiny fucking basement apartment on West
15th Street. It was basically a bed. a chair, the smallest kitchen imaginable,
and a shelf. The bathroom was so bad I could never do it justice. The one
thing this extremely small/extremely expensive apartment had going for
it was an outdoor space. The holy grail of NYC living. The unit had a little
backyard with a grill , which is very chill for NYC. A rea l luxury. The ou t door
space was also a game changer in terms of cigarette smoking.
Most people who smoke cigarettes don't understand the struggle of
living in the city and having to leave your home and your building to get ou t
to the street, just to smoke. It's fucking terrible. The struggle is very real.

outdoor space over here."

"Oh ... excuse me, Crystal, I wasn't aware that you and fat John
over here shared a deep love for organic gardening and local
produce," Dawn said.
"Urn, it's Fat Josh, actually." I smiled.
"Whatever. Can we do this? I don't get paid by the hour, so the
sooner we get you off, the sooner I can go home. My Netflix queue
is craaaaaaazy long right now."
"Speaking of Netflix, I'm going to need you both to take a look
at these," I said, handing them both pieces of printer paper.

164

165

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

I had prepared and printed out the script for the epic battle
scene from Braveheart, including the "They'll never take our
freedom" speech. I'd also run down to the pharmacy on the
corner and bought a kids' paint set, so I could recreate the iconic
blue and white face paint from the film. I knew I wouldn't be able
to climax if we didn't address all of the scene's details.
"What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" Dawn asked,
leafing through the script.
"It's a scene from Braveheart. I want you two to act out this
battle for me, topless. Just put on this blue and white face paint
and then we can get this going," I said, handing them each a
spatula sword from my kitchen.

"He's probably gonna murder you. Or cry. I can't do the crying,

girl. No way. I'm ou t".
"I'm not going to murder anybody. What are you talking about?"
"Okay, well, the whole thing is freaking me out. I'm done,"
Dawn said. She was getting agitated. and I needed to find a way
to get her to stay.
"I'm sorry. So you'd rather fuck me, a complete stranger that
looks like this," I said, gesturing to myself, "than act out a scene
from an incredible movie? How does that make any sense?"
"I'm a hooker. I ain't no actress."
Dawn was very pissed.
"Dawn, just calm down," Crystal chimed in. "Just go home,
babe. I'll be fine. I can handle this on my own."
"If I leave you here and you don't text me in the next hour,
I'm-a call the police and tell them you got murdered on Fifteenth
Street. You got that, fat man?"
"Jesus. Yes. No one is going to get hurt," I assured her.

"Oh, hell no," Dawn said. "I don't have time for this shit."
"I don't understand."
"I'm not doing this. Can't I just fuck you and go?"
"You don't even need to fuck me," I clarified. "Just put this
paint on your face, take your top off, ride me like a horse, and read
the lines. Then I'll pay you and you can go home to your house,
which is apparently much nicer than this place."
"Nah. This shit is too weird for me. I'm breaking out. Crystal?
You stayin' here with this freaky-ass white boy?"
"Yeah," Crystal said.

"I'm fine, Dawn. I'm fine."

Dawn did leave, thank God. She was a fucking nightmare. Bye,
Dawn, GTFO. When the door shut behind her, Crystal turned to
me and smiled.
"I love this movie."
"Okay. Wow." I was shocked. "Wow. I mean, I was thinking I'd
be lucky if you even knew what Braveheart was, but you love it?
Fuck yeah. I'm a huge Mel Gibson fan. I find anti-Semitic people
to be really fascinating."
"So you want me to play William Wallace?"

167

166

J OS H " THE FAT J EW " OS TRO VS K Y

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

"Yes, exactly. That would be great. Just go in the bathroom,

CRYSTAL:

put on this face paint, and come out when you're ready. Here is

Aye, fight and you may die. Run and you'll

a picture of Mel in full makeup so you can match it to the best of

live-at least a while. And dying in your beds

your ability," I said, handing Crystal her props. "Doesn't have to

many years from now, would you be willing to

be perfect. Just do your best."

trade all the days from this day to that for one
chance, just one chance to come back here and

Crystal came out of the bathroom in full character paint. Her

face looked amazing. Topless, she mounted me like the battle

tell our enemies that they may take our lives,

horse I was and began her performance:

but they'll never take our freedom!!!

BOTH:

CRYSTAL:

Alba gu bra! Scotland forever!

Sons of Scotland, I am William Wallace.

ME:

William Wallace is seven feet tall.

At that point she hopped off of my back, threw me the

extra spatula that Dawn had left on my bed, and started sword
fighting me as if I were the enemy. Crystal was an amazing

CRYSTAL:

actress. Like, she fucking nailed it. I was in awe of her talent

Yes, I've heard. Kills men by the hundreds, and

and commitment to the role. Needless to say, the sword play

if he were here he'd consume the English with

eventually devolved into wrestling, which ultimately became

fireballs from his eyes and bolts of lightning from

another type of sword play, if you get my drift. I mean that we

his arse! [I laughed here.] I am William Wallace.

fucked.

And I see a whole army of my countrymen here

After we were done (two minutes), we just laid there in my

in defiance of tyranny. You have come to fight as

bed. Our embrace was much more intimate that you'd imagine

free men, and free men you are. What would you

a hooker/John postcoital moment to be. I honestly think

do without freedom? Will you fight?

she'd been turned on by the whole scenario just as much as

I had.

ME:

"I got into NYU Tisch School of the Arts acting program, but

Fight? Against that? No, we will run, and we

had to turn it down because they didn't give me enough financial

will live.

aid and my family couldn't pay for it." Crystal sighed.

168

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

"Holy shit. Are you serious? I was gonna say, your acting is
really good."

169

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

looked great, and I feel like I am in some way responsible for her
turning her life around.

"Yeah. I guess I've always had it in me, to be a great actor. Just

Hope you are happy with whatever you are doing, Crystal. I'll

wasn't really given a chance. I like what I do, though. It's really

never forget your performance. And if you still see Dawn, tell her

fun, when it's fun. Today was fun ."

to go fuck herself.

We shared a laugh. Then I leaned in and kissed her on the

mouth. She recoiled.
"Urn .. .No thanks, Josh. This was nice, but I don't kiss."

"Totally get it. I may have misread the situation here."

"It's fine. No harm done. I'll leave you my number when I go.
Call me anytime you want to do this kind of thing again. It was
really great to flex that muscle again. I miss it."
Paying my new scene partner to fuck me and then watching
her leave in hooker heels was an odd experience. Crystal was
more than just a hire for me. I felt like I'd made a new friend .
I called my cousin who is an acting agent and told him about
my friend Crystal who was in between agents. I went on and
on about how I saw her in this avant-garde stage production of

Braveheart and that she just blew me away. My douche bag cousin
only agreed to meet with her after I told him that she was smoking
hot and had big funbags.
I don't know what happened to Crystal exactly. She must have
changed her phone number, because the one I have for her doesn't
work. I just tried it. I guess I could follow up with my cousin, but
I owe him two hundred bucks from a bet I lost, so I don't really
want to check in. But .. .I swear I saw Crystal on a New York State
Lotto commercial last month. I'm 99 percent sure it was her. She

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MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

WHITE GIRL ROSE SANGRIA

As many of you may know, I make a rose that is fucking delicious. One of
my fave things to do on a hot summer day when I'm spending time with
friends is to make some delicious rose sangria!!!! (Sorry, that was way
too much excitement.)

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o the Reade<S of My Book Money Pi"a Respett,

I have no idea if this letter will actually find its way into the

!)IIIII

first printing of my book, but I certainly hope it does. It is the

year 2080. I am in the future and I recently met a man on a digibeach who was way chill. Naturally we engaged in a datamosh
and started smoking this killer thumb drive that he had smuggled
in from the country of Florida ...
Wait, fuck, I just realized that none of that makes any sense to
you. How do I explain this so that your undeveloped past brain
can understand? OK, here goes: Met a guy, we were smoking drugs, hanging out, and talking, and he told me he was
a time traveler (he had badass sunglasses on and a trench
coat so he definitely looked like the type of guy who could
surf through time and space) and in exchange for some

181

183

182

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

bitcoins (now the national currency, obviously) he agreed

everyone who lived in SuperAsia (all the Asian countries became

to deliver this letter to the editor of my book in the year

one) died off. When the ozone disappeared they all lived in a vir-

015. So if you're reading this, then I guess he was success-

tual reality pod. Every person was issued a "pillow partner," a

ful, but there's no real way for me to know unless I can somehow

life-size pillow that they spent their time with and attempted to

miraculously find a copy of that book. Paper books were outlawed

sexually mate with. Due to the fact that everyone was fucking a

decades ago. All the old books were used as toilet paper before

pillow, Asians are now extinct.

For the last thirty years, after decades of drought and finan-

humans eventually phased out buttholes altogether in 2069.

It was challenge for me to even write this letter as I haven't ac-

cial resource mismanagement, California was physically severed

tually physically written anything in years. In fact, it took me sev-

from the United States with giant drills and then pushed off into

eral weeks to get a pen, which I was only able to obtain because

the ocean. In order to settle its massive debts, California was

a friend of mine works for the Museum of Pasts and was able to

purchased by Scientologists, who now live on this island in the

put one on loan from their When Humans Used Their Hands ex-

middle of the ocean. As a sovereign nation they are ruled by Tom

hibit. Correct, nobody has really used their hands in years. Some

Cruise, who obviously was once known as a prolific actor but now

people even had their hands replaced with awesome things, like

(thanks to technology that allows rich white people to live for-

claws, mirrors, torgens (it's like a phone but better). I know this

ever) is their reigning Kingdor.

one guy named Fif who has titanium dildo hands.

You might be asking yourself how much could really

erything. If you are reading this in 2015, then just think about

to create a superspecies, and Kingdor Cruise rides around

-)

on an ostrich with the head of a lion, which is pretty awe -

change in sixty-five yea<s, and the answer is absolutely eu-

The Scientologists bred every kind of animal together

some. The garbage situation across the world has become

sixty years before this moment right now, people thought

unmanageable. Most cities in the United States are covered in

cigarettes had essential vitamins and minerals and

those coffee cup pods that everyone used to love, which were

doctors were prescribing them to pregnant women

completely hazardous and could never be destroyed but nobody

to relieve stress. Most people thought that radio would always be

fucking cared because one-touch, single-serve coffee was awe-

their primary form of entertainment. Cars were projectile death

some. There are entire cities made from these little plastic cups.

machines. It was the fucking Stone Age compared to 2015 ...

People live in actual houses made from hazelnut mocha pods.

So, as you might imagine, in the future, the planet is really,

In 2080, music is made solely on computers and would prob-

really fucked up. Antarctica is completely melted, the Middle East

ably sound something akin to machines grinding to you, with

has been on fire (no, like actually on fire) for twenty years, and

beeps and boops and sometimes laser noises and the occasional

184

185

MONE Y PIZZA RESPE C T

JO SH " THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

human scream. Every person now has their own television net-

forgotten how to experience most basic human emotions and

work, broadcasting live twenty-four hours a day seven days a

nobody has hands so our every need is handled by machines, but

week, except that nobody is consuming any of it because every-

everyone has green eyes and is ridiculously good-looking.

body is so busy broadcasting their own meals and workouts.

Oh, I almost forgot, for many years being straight has been
considered out of vogue and even offensive, and many heteros
kept their sexuality closeted for fear of violence. In recent years

Is it really that bad? Definitely not. You should actually be

looking forward to it. Good luck with hornet attack of 2066, and
the whole Clooney as president debacle.
-Fat]ew

those feelings have eased a bit, and it is now safe for a man and a
woman to openly procreate.

P.S. We cured cancer and AIDS and ugliness and it's super easy.

I know the future probably doesn't sound that great, but de-

I'll put it in another letter for my next book. But for this one I

spite all of that, I have good news to report. No-great news. With

thought it would be best to tell you about fucked-up shit and how
hot everyone looks.

all the cross-breeding that has occurred over the last hundred
years, there is no longer any single identifiable race in the continental United States. Black, Caucasian, Hispanic, Asian, Native
American-they have all blended into one. What this means is
that everyone's skin is a wonderful caramel hue, and all eye color
variations blended together to become one magical green color
that is honestly just so gorgeous. Imagine everyone looking like
Rashida Jones. No really, close your eyes and imagine everybody
being that fuckable. That is what is happening today. I remember
years ago when not everyone was perfectly tan and people had
brown eyes, and I can't even imagine how we had sex with one
another. It's so horrible to imagine. Everyone now is exotic and
has freckles, but like only a couple so it's cute, not like a weird
amount. I had surgery in 2047 to look more like everyone else,
and I look fucking great. Like amazing.
So the world is a garbage-covered mess filled with narcissistic freaks and we have no natural resources and people have

After I read this letter I wrote from the future, I had my friend
make a rendering of a house made of K-cup coffee trash.
So ... we're all basically fucked.

l - ;

~.~ -

!"

~ - {"

~ ..~ - {~ }. - .!.r ~. - f* ~ t~.

,~

! ~ -

he fact that I 'hm DNA with my brothe<, Avi, ;, one of the

wondrous mysteries of the universe. We couldn't be more opposite-we're like black and white, sweet and savory, Kim Cattrall as
Samantha on Sex and the City and Kim Cattrall in real life. In fact,
the differences between me and my younger brother are straight

, 611111

out of a movie. And that movie exists and it is called Twins. You're
going to be shocked, but I'm the Danny DeVito character. We split
the gene pool traits directly down the middle, and we each got everything that the other one doesn't have. I got the incredible personality and the amazing sense of humor; he got the work ethic
and a tiny head (look at it) and a huge penis. We couldn't be more
different. Also, does Avi have a tiny head? Or are his muscles just
sooooooooo big that he looks like he has a pinhead?
When we were kids, we had a pet turtle named Bruce. I liked

187

188

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

189

~
{/~
~

.
Bruce as much as anyone else' b ut smce
eleven-year-old me
turned into the professional weirdo I am today, you can imagine

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

free time and have normal white people jobs. Sam is a middle

~'

school English teacher and lacrosse coach, Jake is also a middle

that I was also into doing messed up stuff to him. I would draw

school English teacher, and Jonathan (never John) is a podiatrist.

dickson his shell with whiteout, put Alka-Seltzer in his drinking

so normal. Which coincidentally, I think, is why they looked to me

water to see if it would make him explode-that type of shit. My

brother would pretend to love these antics, often cheering me on

to make my brother's bachelor party the wildest, stupidest, most

hectic and "Fat Jew crazy" night of their lives.

in an effort to seem fun and irreverent. But secretly, as I later

The expectation was that my involvement would suddenly

found out, he would clean Bruce's shell with a nontoxic solvent

make everything more amazing. They loved my antics on the

he had made from vinegar and water, and would often read books

Internet and thought I was going to plan them a night that was

to him. My brother understood that he was part of something

going to be suuuuuper fun and funny and ridiculous. They wanted

larger, a single grain of sand on an infinite beach of time. I just

this party to be The Hangover, to wake up with no pants on with a

wanted to draw dicks on turtles. To this day, we are still in these

live falcon perched on the couch next to them and be like What

exact same roles, my brother pretending to enjoy my antics while

happened???? Last night was nuts!!!! So I gave them the carnival of

sins they wanted.

secretly cleaning up the mess.

We started the evening with dinner at Peter

Avi's an amateur bodybuilder who looks like a professional

{?

(j

(_ )

@lf

federal government. I think that's what he told me. He might be a

Luger Steak House in Brooklyn. If you've never ' {~ (h~l

been there, you should know that it's the type of
~

spy. Regardless, he is a serious grown man with a mortgage and mil-

place where there's essentially nothing to order but steak, steak

itary security clearance, who drinks only Scotch aged in charred

for two, steak for three, and so on. We got steak, several orders of

barrels. I guess in his scene he might be considered progressive,

their bacon appetizer, which is thick-as-fuck bacon on a plate (I

but trust me he's not, and that's why he's beautiful and special.

affectionately refer to it as Steak-con), and a lot of vodkas. Many,

Although he is younger than I, he got married a few years ago,

many, vodkas. All of the vodkas. Our seventy-year-old waiter,

and due to familial obligation, I was his best man. As his best

Tony, who coincidentally was vegan, took to us and kept our table

man, it was my responsibility (in addition to some other bullshit)

flush with shots of vodka. He refused to bring us water, even

bodybuilder who does medical records structural analysis for the

.qJ

to plan his bachelor party. The guys in the wedding

<"'"

<]'

-\~~c? (
?(

~ '>

!: )(

party besides me were his three best friends:

all normal white guys with normal bodies who

do fantastically normal white guy stuff in their

\!j

when we asked him to. He thought it was funny. Tony had a

great sense of humor. I think of him often.
By the time we'd literally licked our plates clean, we were

all drunk. I gauge my after-dinner drunkenness by the amount

190

MONEY PI ZZA RESPECT

191

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

of urine I'm able to get in the actual toilet bowl-after steaks,

actually delightful. The vibe of Saint Venus is not scary, but it's

bacon, and vodka, I was able to get about half of it in. I was ready

not cute. Lots of smoke machines.

to start the night.

When we walked in, I could tell by the looks on the guys'

"Let's fucking go, you beautiful baby bitches," I commanded

faces that this was new to them. Brand fucking new. They looked

when I came back to the table. We got in a white Escalade that I'd

like kids in a candy store, except for the fact that the candy was

generously chartered for the night and we were off to our next

actually average-to-hot strippers. Yeah, the guys were in heaven.

destination: an underground, traveling strip club called Saint

"These are the hottest strippers I've ever seen."

Venus. It was about eleven p.m.

"Yeah. They are really hot. Why are they so hot?"

Saint Venus was my way of introducing the guys to the true

"They're hot because we're in an insurance office on Jay Street.

energy of the night. The place isn't your average strip club, as in

There is something inherently unsexy about strip clubs, and

you can get away with sucking on a stripper's nipples or putting

your finger in a butthole or two without being asked to leave. And

when you take that element away, you realize that it's all about
tits and ass."

the girls kind of look like normal girls, not as stripper-y as usual.

We ordered some shots and got situated at a corner table. My

But it's also not such an extreme environment that it might've

brother refused to get a lap dance because of his pending nuptials,

scared these normal bros away from the rest of the night.

but as the rest of us received the ones that I'd organized ahead of

"This is the foreplay section of the night to come," I told them

in the Escalade on the way.
"Can we all promise that no pictures will be taken of this
night? Please?" an overly paranoid Sam asked the group.
"No pictures," I assured him. I remember glancing at my
brother in the frontseatofthe SUV. He was smiling, and thatwarmed
my cold heart for a fleeting moment. I was doing good by him, so far.
Tonight's location for Saint Venus was across the Williamsburg
Bridge in the basement of an office building in lower Manhattan. I
love these traveling smut bars. It's one of my favorite things about

time (because I'm a loving brother), I glanced over at him and I

saw him yawn.
''I'm sorry, Megan," I said to the girl on my lap. Her name
probably wasn't Megan, but to me it definitely was. ''I'm gonna
have to cancel this dance right now." I softly nudged her off, stood
up, and walked over to my brother's chair.
"We're leaving."
"What. Why?" He looked disappointed. He also looked drunk
as fuck .

NYC. It moves around, similar to a circus (of vaginas), and it's

"Because you just yawned and that's unacceptable. There is no

Yawning on my watch."

normally located in an empty office or a hotel suite. It costs fifty

"I literally got up at five forty-five this morning to work out.. ."

bucks for entry, but that includes a drink and free pasta, which

"Nope. Don't care. I don't want to hear about this shit. We are

I know sounds gross, but the fusilli with garden vegetables is

taking care of this sleepy adult thing you have going on right now."

192

193

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

My reputation as a maniac was not going to be called into

and we were on our way. Avi did not partake, but I didn't want

question by this night not being fucking awesome. We had to take

to make a big deal out of it. The excitement of scoring drugs had

things to the next level.

woken him up a lot, and that was my primary objective. Also, his

Ten minutes later, the five of us were standing in the lobby

of the building waiting for my coke dealer, Rene. He's black and

friends were starting to have a really good time, and that seemed
to make Avi super happy. That's just the kind of A+ guy he is.

French, not the white woman you just pictured, you racist asshole.

I'm not sure any of these guys had a serious night out before,

"I haven't really done some cocaine since like, uhh, college,

and by I'm not sure I mean completely sure, because these dudes

Josh. I don't fucking know, man. Do not think it's a good idea for

were immediately mangled. We stopped in at a few scummy bars

me to be like, uhh, doing cocaine when I have to wake up for the

in Midtown and got more hammered, then Jonathan farted shit

kids' school tomorrow, my man," Jake slurred.

into his underpants, so we had to send him home in a car service.

"First of all," I said to him, "tomorrow is Sunday, so fuck your

"I think I need to be done," Avi said to me, slumped on a bar stool

kids. Wait, that sounded weird. Your kids are fine. I saw them

in the back of the neon-lit bar where the four of us were drinking

on Instagram. They're really cute. Second, cocaine is never a bad

Japanese beers and exchanging stories about summer camp. I

idea. Especially when you're in an office building in Koreatown."

shook my head slowly. In that moment, I was his disappointed

Rene walked in. He'd been my dealer, on and off, for years. He was

mom who just wanted her son to grow some fucking nuts and

a good guy with a cleft lip and who wore permanently clean black

rally. Luckily, he did. :)

Timberlands, even in the summer. He would also wear numerous

"Dog fighting!!!!!" I screamed very loudly right into his face.

wristwatches at once, nice ones with diamonds, sometimes four or

I brought them to a little weekly Dominican dog-fighting get-

even six on each wrist. It was his thing. Plus, his cocaine was good.

together on the Lower East Side that I knew was en route to our

So good, in fact, that I'll probably never achieve an erection again.

final destination. I really thought these guys would appreciate

"How much do you want?" Rene asked. He was such a French

hunk.
''I'll take an eight ball."

the experience.
I was wrong.
"This is fucked up," Sam announced to the group of us, the

The transaction was quick and easy. I bought way too much,

Whitest people in the room, raising his voice to be heard over

about a gram and a half for each of us, but at the time it felt like

the roar of a hundred Dominicans waving money around and

not nearly enough.

screaming at top volume. Great, Sam. Way to be a team player.

Without "naming names," some of us did key bumps of coke

"It's fiiiiine," I assured them. "You guys all do your little fantasy

there in the lobby in front of probably six surveillance cameras that

football or baseball or whatever, right? Just think of it like that.

were most definitely (maybe) not plugged into any power source,

Bet on the dogs with the least scars and make a few bucks."

194

MONE Y PIZZA RESPECT

195

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

"I'm ashamed to be here," Sam kept on saying.

narrowly missing my bare chest. I'd been shirtless

"You'll want the extra cash at the next stop, trust me."

since the last Korean bar we stopped into.

They grew some balls and bet on a few fights . They were totally

Instead of cleaning up his mess, my brother \..-I

right, btw-dog fighting is actually disgusting and depressing-

relocated to a dark and dingy corner of the club, found his balance,

but we tried to have fun. Seeing it through their eyes made me

and puked some more. He rallied like a pro, and I loved him for it.

realize the error of my ways. They actually ruined dog fighting

We stayed at the spot in Brooklyn for about an hour before

for me forever.
"Okay, Okay," I finally said after an hour of dogs barking, cash

realizing that it wasn't us that smelled like shit-it was the place.
Also, Jake and Sam ended up feeling the semi-erect penises on

flying, and scary men screaming around them.

the strippers that were giving them their respective lap dances.

"I know everyone is tired and it's three in the morning. But I

They really couldn't deal with that. We needed to stop. The sun

love you, Avi, and I think we actually need to hang out right now."

was up, we were hungry again somehow, and it was simply that

That very easily might've been the first time I'd ever said that to

time of the night/morning. Sam and Jake went home, and my brother

him. In that moment he looked so loveable and brother-y.

and I went to our favorite childhood diner. Sitting across from

Jake winked at me, which was odd, but I guess he felt the
energy of our bro-ment, too. Bro-ment?
Needless to say, I got the men to agree to come along to the
last and most important scheduled event of the bachelor party:
an illegal, all-tranny sex circus in a warehouse in deep Brooklyn.

Avi, back in Manhattan, it struck me that we might not be as

different as I always thought.
"This was mad fun," I said to Avi.
"Pshhhhhhh it's erben," he responded, in what sounded like
complete and utter nonsense.

Not fun, cute, white people having brunch Brooklyn. Not even currently

"Right, exactly."

undergoing gentrification semi-scary Brooklyn. We're talking about

"En dow bay. En dow bay, Josh."

the part of Brooklyn where everyone is Eastern European and

Most people would have been frustrated by the fact they

has a unibrow. I let them know that this place was cool and

couldn't understand their brother, but to me this was a special

trustworthy, and they were fucked up enough to believe me.

moment. It was the first time in his life that he wasn't making

My brother was extremely drunk, and his friends were also

wrecked. In fact, they had no idea that the chicks giving them very

sense. It was freeing for him and for me. By not understanding
him, I finally understood him.

private, very sensual lap dances were actually transgendered.

Weeks later, at the wedding, Sam, Jake, and Jonathan were

They must have thought this was like the first illegal strip club,

acting strange. I was even semi-excited to see them and to remind

from earlier. It was all a bit of a blur, but one highlight for sure was

Jonathan about that time a few weeks back when he shit in his

when Avi vomited in the middle of the makeshift dance floor,

seafoam-green Polo pants and we all laughed. But the guys were

196

197

MONE Y PIZZA RESPECT

JOSH "THE FAT J EW " OS TR O VS KY

"Look, I get it. I took it to the edge with the dog fighting and the
coke and the trannies and I'm sorry."
They looked at me blankly.
"Okay. Wow, you're just gonna do me like that. All right." I
threw my hands up and started to walk away, managing to grab
a shrimp off a platter as I turned around.
"Josh," Avi said in a hushed voice. "The night was genius."
"Yeah." "Yes." "I was reborn that night," echoed the rest of the
guys.
"I thought you were mad because I like disrespected your
marriage or some shit," I said.
"Not at all," Avi assured me.
"Josh, that was the singular best night of my life. It's just my
wife got mad that I came home at eight that morning smelling
like booze and lube."
acting like we didn't even know each other, like we hadn't shared
the best night of their lives together. Nobody wanted to talk

"I have no idea. But we told all of our wives that it was kind of
boring, so they didn't ask too many questions."

about it, no one was reminiscing with me, and all of their wives

I then remembered that, unlike me, a person who talks about

were looking at me like I was the fucking devil. I felt snubbed,

a dog fighting and transvestite rave night at any and every

embarrassed, and alone on my brother's big day.

opportunity, these guys have real jobs and real lives, and they

I felt shitty. Had I gone too far? Maybe I went too far. Maybe I

have to downplay the epicness of the night as not to have to

screwed up and took it to places I never should have. Goddammit.

divulge details that could get them into trouble. I was so happy

He is my brother, after all, not some douchebag boyfriend of an

that I delivered the "Fat Jew" night that they wanted.

old camp friend that I'm just trying to fuck with 'cause it's his

"Jonathan, remember how you got so drunk that you shit in

your khakis?"

first night in NYC or whatever.

At the drinking part of the wedding, I pulled my brother and
the guys aside.

"Honestly.. .I don't!"
We all began to laugh, and toasted our glasses. I was happy.

nf1uencer (n.): An individual who is well connected, has impact

,I

~~ ~: ~1

and an active mind, and is a trendsetter who can significantly

shape the customer's purchasing decision but may never be
accountable for it.
In layman's terms it means that if you have a large social
following either online or in real life, you can get paid money
to talk about stuff. I'm an inj1uencer. Companies pay me to put
their product on Facebook/Instagram/1\vitter and pretend that
I actually use it, so that the teens who follow me will buy said
product.
The much more awesome component is when I get sent to
events, sponsored by a brand, to do absolutely nothing. All I have to
do is stand around in some sort of ridiculous outfit that I would
normally wear to a party (thong, Rollerblades, or wetsuit) and just

199

200

201

MON E Y PIZZA RE SPECT

JOS H "THE F AT JEW " OS TR O V SKY

look cool. In turn, the brand looks cool because I'm hanging out

uber-rich European morons with natural tans so deep that they

at their party. It's an easy gig, but it comes fraught with moments

can be achieved only by riding horseback every day on a beach. At

of deep, deep self-hatred. But that's every job, right? Overall, I feel

cannes, you're surrounded by guys from Monaco drinking rose at

incredibly blessed to be able to call it my life while some people

eight o'clock in the morning, who will metaphorically (and, as I

are slaving away doing lame stuff, like being teachers and doctors.

fou nd out one night, also literally) dump money into the fucking

A few months ago, Stella Artois called and asked me if I would

ocean. People wear tuxedos at all times, use croissants as loofahs,

fly to France to attend a bunch of parties that they were hosting

at the Cannes Film Festival. If you don't know, the Cannes Film
Festival is a yearly celebration of the newest films spanning all
genres from around the globe. It's the most celebrated and famous

Stella Artois is throwing to celebrate all this nonsense.

film festival in the world. It dates back to the 1940s and is steeped

They weren't paying me much, but I didn't care because it was

in tradition. I like to think of it as the European Academy Awards,

going to be such an ultimate shitshow that I accepted the job with

but in reality the Oscars are just our fake Birkin bag knockoff of

a resounding "Yasss," packed my thong and tuxedo, and flew to

Cannes.

France. A lot of good things happened over the course of five

It's the second largest media event in the world behind only

days, but only one event really mattered, so I figured I'd share

the Olympics. 'TWo thousand films are screened over the course

with you because it's awesome, and your life will be 0.001 percent

of twelve days to colossal fanfare . Cannes is also famed for

better after reading it. Yes, I'm a giver.

showcasing emerging directors, where future Quentin Tarantinos

One night I was at a Stella-sponsored party and some rich

and George Lucases gain their first large-scale recognition and

Saudi dudes noticed me. They were intimidating and beautiful

launch their wildly successful careers. The festivities culminate

and looked rich as motherfuck. I knew they were kind of obsessed

with one film being awarded the Palme d'Or, honoring the festival's

with me because the first thing they said to me, in their thick,

greatest cinematic achievement, an award that is unparalleled

delicious accent was: "Dude, Fat Mr. Jew, we are kind of obsessed

in its prestige within the world of film. LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL. You

with you, buddy."

guys, I'm just kidding . Imagine if I actually gave a shit about the

"What?" I replied, taken aback.

"rich tradition" of Cannes? Can you imagine? I do not.

"We know you from the Internet, you fuckin' madman," one

But I did go, and honestly if Stella Artois ever wants to pay
for you to go as well, say yes , because it's a playground for

of them said with a huge smile. I wasn't dreaming. These Saudis

Were actual fans .

202

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

203

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

"Okay. Well, thanks, dudes. It's nice to meet you guys. Thanks
for saying hi-"

SHARON:

Magic Johnson. (Smokes an entire cigarette in one

"You need come with us tonight and join the entourage, as you
say," said the first guy.

single drag.) The way he played the game of

basketball, that's how I act. (Now screaming) I

"Join the entourage?"

want to dazzle! Have you ever seen him throw

"Yes, what do you think I fucking said, you fat fuck?" he

a no-look pass? That's how I am with the

said, causing the entire group to erupt in howling laughter. I

camera. I'm looking somewhere else, and then

was in.

all of a sudden bam! I'm throwing the energy

A few hours later I found myself at a party on a yacht belonging

to you.

to one of them (boat soirees are extremely common at Cannes),

and this is exactly what happened: Sharon Stone was possibly

EASTERN EUROPEAN "MOVIE PRODUCERS":

coked up and talking to me and some "movie producers" from

Yes, yes, that makes total sense. I love that.

Eastern Europe about her experience filming the 1992 classic film
Basic Instinct.

ME:

I don't know if she was high. I didn't see her do drugs, but I
know what it looks like when people are on drugs. Let's all be

What? (I should mention that I said this internally.

Outwardly, I nodded like everyone else.]

adults about this, oka? (It should be noted that I don't really know
what Sharon Stone is like when she is not high, but it would be

Then things turned up to another level of awesome. One of

different than the way she was acting on the yacht that day.) This

the Saudi dudes from earlier who had identified himself as Kevin

is how the conversation went:

tapped me on the shoulder and motioned for me to follow. We

headed into the lower level of the yacht, and suddenly stopped at

SHARON:

Ask me who my inspiration was for my

character in the film.

a random door. "I wanted you to see this, Mr. Jewish."

I assumed that the room would be filled with gold bullion and
prostitutes, or possibly a woman with two vaginas, but it turned
out to be even weirder. The room was completely empty, save

EASTERN EUROPEAN "MOVIE PRODUCER":

Please tell us, Sharon.

for a stereo that was softly playing "Party Rock" by LMFAO and
an ostrich. Yes, a single, glorious ostrich. I'd never seen one in

205

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JOSH 'TH E FAT JEW' OSTROVSKY

MONE Y PIZZA RESPECT

person before. It was very big. And very much an

alien from space. I couldn't take my eyes off of
the thing.
"Do not enter the room," Kevin whispered.
"Why?" I asked, also whispering.

.....,.}NVL.
~

'G.-.
\ '(~
i"

"This is Bradley Cooper, and he does not like to

be touched or disturbed."

a tuxedo, and I'm surrounded by Saudis who are billionaires, in

which case, I'll basically do whatever.
I realize, after having written so many stories for this book,
that each chapter needs to have a beginning, middle, and end.
But you know what? Fuck that. I do whatever I want. I'm a grownup.
You cannot do any better than ending your story with a cathartic,
watershed moment with an ostrich named Bradley Cooper. You

I was coked up, and this was exploding my mind to shreds.

just can't. So I'm ending this chapter right here. Fuck you, Mrs.

The ostrich was just walking around the room, listening to bad

Geary, my eleventh-grade AP English teacher, and fuck you to all

Top 40 music, just chilling. OK OK OK, let's review the facts: I'm in

the h8ers!!!!

the south of France wearing a tuxedo and I'm on a yacht with some Saudi

Arabians who are richer than God, and they have an ostrich in a room for
absolutely no fucking reason, and they named it Bradley Cooper because
they laue the actor Bradley Cooper.
As Bradley and I stared deep into each other's eyes, something
profound occurred to me: He, like me, is an exotic bird who gets
taken around the world and put into lavish and bizarre situations
just because of how awesome he is. The Saudis love Bradley
because he is colorful, a little bit scary, and makes for a great
story. Now I know what you might be thinking: "Fat Jew, you
don't want to be anyone's pet. Never let people treat you like an
animal." And my response to that would be that you are correct.
I, of course, would never want to be objectified and treated like
some kind of dancing clown. I'm a human man and an artist who
demands respect. Unlesssssss ... there's unlimited rose and Sharon
Stone is there talking about her acting career, and I'm on a yacht
in France, and there's lots of free drugs, and everyone is wearing

'm basically a Z-list celebrity. Which in this day and age means
that I'm famous for no real reason, yet somehow, people still pay
attention to me and what I do. It also means that I have psychotic

groupies. Obviously, I'm not a member of Guns N' Roses in 1990,

or David Hasselhoff in Germany. We're not talking about leggy
blondes grabbing at me, trying to rip my dick off so they can
bronze it and make a necklace to wear.
Think more fours and fives who have giant lady hands, hate
their dads, and are from gross cities like Fresno and Wichita.
Frankly, I'm totally fine with that. You know why? Because I'm
sure the woman who'd let Jude Law get inside of her pink satin
seashell is much hotter in every physical sense than the girls who
want to fuck me, but my groupies have something that Jude Law's
groupies don't have. They're all insane.
And, fortunately for me, crazy is what gets me sexually aroused.
I've had fans let me do all types of stuff to them. One time I was

207

208

209

M ON E Y PI ZZ A RE SPE C T

JOS H "THE FAT J EW " OS TR OVSKY

at a Kid Rock concert in Detroit and two overweight Midwestern

gals who think my Instagram is hilarious and "sooooo us" (their

nothing remarkable about her whatsoever. She looked like a baked

potato, no toppings, with legs.

words, verbatim) fought each other in the front seat of a pickup

My expectation was that her seemingly normal exterior was

truck in order to get to hang out with me for the entire concert. I

housing a myriad of emotional problems, and that she would

initially suggested it as a joke, but they were down. Imagine two

probably be the weirdest girl I've ever had sex with. Nope. We

big girls fighting each other in a 3x3-foot space.

began banging regularly, and as they always do with me, things

It was scary and exhilarating and, honestly, more

got boring fast . But this time, it wasn't just my insatiable thirst

entertaining than Kid Rock's performance.

for an awesome sexual encounter story; it was also that she was

My hard-core female fans need round-the-clock therapy. They

not into anything cool. She wasn't into butt eating or bruising

are emotionally unstable and battling serious demons. I feel bad

or dressing me like a baby and breastfeeding me, and I started

for them, but at the same time I've looked at so much horrible

thinking that maybe she just wasn't a weirdo. Again, nope. One

imagery on the Internet that I killed my own sex drive, and the

night, while texting, I jokingly suggested that we have an OJ trial

only way I can get sexually aroused these days is feeding off the

fantasy and I took a screens hot of her response:

insanity of those women who religiously follow my goings-on.

The crazier the better. The wilder the scenario, the more I love it.
Nothing is ever too far for me.
Some examples:

JOSH You know what would be amazing?

JOSH If we did an OJ Simpson Trial Fantasy

LAUREN
Height: 5 foot 4

MESSAGE
Today 22/07/2007 3:58PM

Weight: 130 pounds

Hair: Brown

Issue: Historically accurate pervert

auren was definitely psychotic, but unlike some of the mani-

LAUREN That is such a weird idee. Who is who?

JOSH I'm OJ, and you're .Judge Lance Ito with
boobs
LAUREN LOL

acs I've fornicated with, she was incredibly smart. She went

to graduate school at Stanford, where she majored in something

incredibly specific that has zero application in the real world,

She didn't actually LOL in real life. I just knew it. She wanted
no part of my OJ sex fantasy.

like seventeenth-century women's instruments. We met on the

A week later we made plans for sex, but it was going to be my

Internet (I know, you're shocked) back in the Myspace days, and it

last time seeing her, because she was just too .. .normal. She had a

turned out that she lived close by. She was a total five. There was

good job and was close with her father and drank only wine with

210

211

MONEY PIZZA RE SPE C T

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSK Y

NINA

dinner and made good life choices and it was making me fucking

Height: 5 foot 1

Weight: 100 pounds, maybe

Hair: Black

sick. I was happy that she was doing so well, but it doesn't give me
Issue: Stalking

boners. I want someone spiraling. When I arrived at her house for

some mediocre sex and a pleasant goodbye forever, my mind was

11

talking is scary. It's intense, it's creepy, it's really dark, but. . .it

melted. Lauren had set up her apartment to look like a courtroom,

complete with juror seats, a makeshift judge's bench with a gavel

Nina was my prototype groupie: She loved cocaine, had serious

on it, and a wooden chair with fencing around it serving as the

self-esteem issues, and was a chuckle fucker. Yes, a chuckle fucker.

stand in a courtroom. Lauren was wearing a judge's robe, a black

Girls who fuck funny guys. It's hard to spot a chuckle fucker. Some-

comb-over wig, and a fucking Fu Manchu mustache. I didn't take

times they are overweight girls who try to do stand-up comedy, so

a photo, but if you're too young to remember, this is Judge Lance

it makes total sense, and sometimes it's a blonde publicist with a

Ito (also, I want to have sex with you, too).

terrible attitude who is a nine and just happens to love fucking fat

can also be super fun and a total turn-on if done the right way.

She had a navy suit for me with a patterned tie that, upon a

guys who make the LOLs. They're sometimes hard to spot. Nina

Google search, I found to be strikingly similar to the outfit that OJ

and I met on Facebook. We had some mutual friends in common,

frequently wore during his trial. She even had a leather glove

and she seemed like she wanted my mangled little rock shrimp

that didn't fit my hand. The accuracy was incredible. The sex

penis inside of her. We met at a nightclub blah-blah-blah and

was a little over the top, and at one point she jammed a

ended up at her dumpy one-bedroom in Tribeca. She was standard

finger directly into my butthole.

run-of-the-mill wild at first, like she was game to lick my taint

"No!" I yelped, surprised and not that into ass play.

(sorry, Mom; sorry, everyone) and would aggressively swing her

"Objection overruled!" she bellowed out, followed by a deep laugh.

hair around while on top of me during sex. It was forced . I lost

I was scared, but also so very turned on.

interest after a month and stopped responding to her text mes-

Over the next few weeks, we did more historical-themed fuck

sages, which upset her greatly. A lot of four thirty a.m. texts like

sessions-the Civil War, the shining, JonBenet Ramsey, spring

this started coming my way:

break Daytona Beach 1992-and each one was handled with the

"You're a dick. Bye forever. Dick."

same level of focus and attention to detail. Somehow she managed

It wasn't even that fun or psycho, more "angry white girl drunk

to obtain a musket for the Civil War fantasy! A musket! It turned

ut

on white wine."

that Lauren actually was a psychotic sexual deviant-!

But the more I let her twist in the wind, the more wild she got.

just had to dig deep, and it turned out to be historical

The less I did, the more she became a monster. I started getting

accuracy that made her a legendary psychotic groupie.

four thirty a.m. texts like this:

212

213

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

''I'm going to rip your dick off and stab you to death with it"
Yes. Now we're talking.

when I walked into the first meeting to meet their team, she was
on it-and pretended not to know me. I came outside my house

Then she started stalking me.

one day, and she was tanning on a lawn chair in a parking spot

She was really good at it too, like actually extremely talented.

with a meter that she was feeding quarters. Such a good look!

She should probably work for a private government agency. She

The stalking led to renewed interest on my part, and we

would pop up in the strangest places, like sitting a few rows in

continued seeing each other until she had some sort of mental

front of me at the DMV, or wearing a trench coat with a hat at a

breakdown and went back to Ohio. I miss her every day.

diner where I was eating, peering over the menu. Movie-type shit.

A company wanted to hire me to shoot a funny Internet video, and

But there was one really magical girl. A true psycho. The one
who will always hold the most special place in my heart.

LINDSAY
Height: 5 foot 4

Weight: 120 pounds

Hair: Dirty blonde

Issue: Sooo many

indsay was from Sacramento, which is disgusting, but she had

everything else that I ever wanted in a groupie: She was Jewish,

she had mediocre work done so her boobs were rock solid (I love
bad plastic surgery), she had a tattoo on her rib cage that said
"Regret Nothing," and most of all, she was a legendary mess.
~

I don't throw the word legendary around much anymore because it got
ruined by frat bros who insisted on referring to every single night where they
:-Q drank a lot of booze and date raped a girl as "legendary," but Lindsay from
V) Sacramento really deserves it. Partially because she was diagnosed bipolar
and decided to substitute her prescribed medication with cocaine, but also
because she was also a very gifted painter, and although that kind of talent
can most certainly be used for productive and good things, in this case it
was channeled into craziness.
(])

214

215

M O NE Y PIZZA RE SPECT

J OS H "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSK Y

I met Lindsay through social media, when I tweeted out

-g

Lindsay flew to New York and stayed in some shitty midtown

so I can smoke it in a joint?" and she immediately responded. It

hotel for the first few nights because I wasn't just going to let her

was the fastest response time ever. As in Chinese food delivery

into my home without first vetting her actual level of insanity. I

on Christmas Day fast. She agreed to do it, and five days later

wanted to meet her first, take her out to a meal, and get to know

I received an envelope from California containing a handful of

pubes, and I proceeded to smoke them out of a bong and put

her craziness IRL. I also needed to make sure she wasn't a Serbian
man catfishing me.

video footage of it up on YouTube. An incredibly toxic/beautiful

relationship was born.

I met Lindsay at an Italian restaurant with reasonably priced

:'Q
U")

'<

entrees, and we got to know each other. She was worse looking in
person because, you know, the Internet, but she was surprisingly

Q)

Q)

I had to meet her.

"hey can a girl on here shave their pubic hair and mail it to me

well spoken and knew how to use a fork and knife properly.
Never smoke women's pubic hairs. Not to be funny, not to be cool , not ever.
They smell insane once you light them on fire, and will make you feel like you
are going to vomit all over yourself.

From there, things took off. We messaged back and forth

We spent the meal making some light conversation, but for

the most part, she seemed extremely shy and understated.
Until we got back to her hotel.
"''m gonna use the bathroom," I said as we entered the
room.

about various things, most of them consisting of innuendos

"Sure. You're going to fuck me, but first, I'm gonna take a bath,

about making sex with each other. It was just a game. She told

and I was hoping you could hold your pee for a sec and let me get
situated in the tub first."

me she was nineteen years old and used to be Goth, but dropped
that look and became a standard party animal. Eventually the
conversation moved over to text messaging.

"That's awesome. But, why do I have wait? I really have to pee,

bad."

But then, one Tuesday as I sat at my computer with my glass of

"Great, that's even better. Just hold on. Give me two minutes,"

morning rose, I got a picture message from her that indicated to

Lindsay said as she ripped off her top, revealing those amazing

me that this relationship was about to take a turn for the worse or

sweater puppets I'd seen in the photo. She then ran into the
bathroom and turned on the bath.

maybe the best-or maybe it would be both. This was it:

"Okay. I'm ready," she called out not a minute later.

216

217

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

When I entered the tiny hotel bathroom I found Lindsay in the

Listen, I am definitely into my share of creepy sexual activities,

tub smiling.

so who am I to judge? I thought she was just trying to impress me

"Hey, I'm gonna pee now," I said.

by being extreme, so I really didn't pay it much mind. Over the

"Pee on my feet."

next few months we chatted from time to time. We sent each

"Really?"

other pies of our genitalia and other fun things. We were keeping

"Please. Pretty please."

things light, and she seemed to be maintaining her cool.

I really had no choice. It was surprisingly awesome and very

Then .. .I went to San Francisco for a video shoot, and I arranged

sexually satisfying to degrade her in this way. What a weirdo.

to meet up with her. Lindsay lived in a mediocre apartment

Over the next three days, we got pretty deviant. Got into

upstairs from a Yankee Candle company store, which, as you can

classic stuff like anal, screaming into her vagina at top volume,

imagine, smelled very intense. One candle can make your home

Lindsay filling her mouth with horseradish and then

giving me fellatio, cock rings, milk play, gagging, taco
time {Google these if you don't know about them). It was

tJ!>
.

great. However, after she left I began to notice some red flags that
indicated she wasn't your average psycho groupie.

'

smell inviting and lovely, but all of them mixed together smells
very, very gross. I could taste it in my mouth.
"Hey. Nice place," I said.
I entered the apartment, and everything was so normal for a
twenty-two-year-old. Not at all what I expected: That poster of a
soldier kissing a girl in Paris on the wall. Think Ikea, but like nice

oo Sprint

3G

( Messages

47% II:>

4:23 PM

Lindsay

Contacts

...oo Sprint 3G

4:35 PM

( Messages

Lindsay

47% II:>

Ikea. Classy coffee table books. A bowl sitting on a little kitchen

Contacts

table filled with pears. A relatively new flat screen TV. Pictures of
M
TCH 1y

M~ Ul

1.t

Linsday with her whole family looking sooooo happy on a beach.

You know what one of

my main turn ons is?

I can only have sex if

'Frasier' is on

A badass Johnny Cash poster that was purchased at an Urban

. That is definitely more

subtle than some of
your other sexual
predrlections, but kind ol
the most tucked up

Abortions

Outfitters.
Maybe she wasn't as crazy as I thought she was.
''I'm so glad you came out to see me. I really missed you."
Lindsay was smiling.

Also the Law & Order

theme song makes me
horny

But then we walked into her bedroom.

It was fucking mental. Like really fucking mental. Apparently

ID

Sene

ID

Send

Lindsay's obsession had spiraled since our time spent in New

"

218

219

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JOSH ' THE FAT JEW ' OSTROVSKY

York, and now her bedroom was filled with paintings of me and of

was willing to do anything I asked, so I had to do it. We had left the

us together, of me and her on horseback galloping through outer

realm of sexual deviancy and went into straight-up sexual danger.

space, me ejaculating a rainbow, and one of me, her, and Morgan

"Do you have a washer/dryer?"

Freeman having dinner and laughing together. But the one that

"Do you have laundry you want done?" she asked creepily.

really fucked me up was massive and hanging directly over her

"Yes. But first, I want you to get inside the dryer. It's

bed.
It was me, as Jesus, nailed to the cross. My body was blood,
but instead of actual nails going through my hands and feet,

a fantasy I've had forever," I said, which was funny

because I had come up with the idea roughly five minutes
earlier.

she'd painted little Lindsays that were pinning me to the cross.

"So, I'm just gonna get naked and climb inside for you."

It was really freaky. It was definitely terrifying, but you have to

Her willingness to please me while in the face of such ridic-

remember that I really thrive on this type of stuff. Basically it

ulous and scary circumstances was a major turn-on. Sound the

became immediately apparent that she was not well, and I was

alarm. Boner alert.

probably actually in physical danger, but my ego is so big that it

I pressed the Start button, and immediately heard a horrific

was nice to see all the paintings. I embraced that shit. She was

scream and a loud thump. I understood the thump to be her body

overjoyed that I didn't immediately leave. Although I definitely

making a rotation and falling from top to bottom, but did it really

should have. I should have run out, gotten in my Chevy Malibu

hurt that badly? I opened the door and she jumped out, holding

rental, and driven into the smoggy California sunset. But I stayed

her arm and running to the bathroom.

and spent the night. A night that can never been unlived.
After seeing her shrine I decided I could take the sexual
creativity to the next level, the level that makes for stories I could
tell at dinner parties for years to come.
"I want to put you in the dryer," I said.

"Fuck fuck fucki'm burned!" she screamed, and instantaneously

my little Jewish erection disappeared.
"Okay, Okay, stay calm, maybe just run it under some water!"
I shrieked.
She had indeed been badly burned, because what I didn't know

"Sure," she replied, without even skipping a beat.

was that when you push the start button on a dryer, flames shoot

Lindsay was about five foot four and 120 pounds, so it was

up behind a metal grate in the back of the machine. The reason

totally doable. Now I know you might see that as potentially

most of us don't know this is because we don't look inside when

dangerous, and you should know that you are completely right.

the dryer starts, and most of us are not making naked girls get in

But I love a good story and am a habitual line crosser, and this girl

there. The water was making the burn worse, and I had turned

220

221

MON E Y PIZZA RE SPE CT

from Z-list celebrity sex god to neurotic Jewish mother in a matter

of seconds.
"Wait, maybe we should put something on it!" I yelled while
frantically scouring for what that item would be. I flung open the
fridge and ripped open the vegetable drawer and grabbed the
first thing I saw: a squash.
"Hold this on your arm!" I screamed while trying to hand it to
her.
"Is that a .. .squash? You brought me a fucking squash??"
"It's like putting a steak on a black eye, it's cold. I don't
know."
She threw the squash at me, and it barely missed. Things were
getting very Ike and Tina, and to be honest I was kind of getting
sexually aroused again.
After twenty minutes of holding her arm under water, it was
clear that we needed actual medical attention. We hopped in my
shitty rental car and I drove her to the Sacramento General ER.
As we sat there waiting to be seen, I looked at this girl clutching
her arm and making weird noises while laying on my chest,
and I realized something, something meaningful, something
adult:
Maybe this was too far.

J OS H "THE F AT JEW " OSTROVSKY

Q)

Listen up, men: If you're like me and regular sex just doesn't cut it, like you'd
get more turned on by shaving off a girl's pubic hair and smoking it in a
-o joint and then letting her speed bag your balls than just having norma l sex,
U) it's going to take some convincing. The average beautiful self-respecting
woman is just not going to be into it. The way the world works is that if you're
a sexual deviant and you want to convince a girl to do deviant and dark sexual
stuff with you, it helps if you are one of three things: rich, hunky, or famous.
I ate frozen burritos for all three meals today, so I'm definitely not rich, and I
have a body like a snowman, so I'm certainly not hunky, but I am marginally
famous. I'm gonna milk that for everything it's worth . Are you none of those
three? Then go to www.thrinder.com (threesome Tinder). Every girl on there
is fucking insane and will do whateve r. (D isclaimer: if you are murdered, it's
soooooo not my fa ult.) (I'll always cont inue to be attracted to this kind of
insanity. It's just who I am.)

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We must stop lying to ourselves.
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Being disingenuous with one another.
The Doors suck. Bad.

JOSH " THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

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ere's the deal: I'm the future . Not in like a Kanye ''I'm actually from a time and place that hasn't happened yet," but more
of a "what I do for work is really where things are heading" type of
way. All the real adults who are reading this book may not want
to accept it, but I'm telling you, it's the truth. And it occurs to
me that I get paid to make appearances at bar mitzvahs and DJ
quinceafieras, but what I really should be doing is giving keynote
speeches at high school and college graduations. So if you're the
dean at one of these types of educational institutions, you should
know that I'm now accepting offers to speak at your school's
graduation. You may not like how this sounds, but trust me, this
is what the kids want. Also, I'm nice at public speaking. Let me
give you a little sample of my shit:

233

234

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

(I bust through a giant piece of white paper like at a

high school football game. I'm wearing a cap and gown,
while the band Rush plays liue behind me.)

To the graduating class of this year, congratulations.

235

JOSH "THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

title is Cryptocurrencies Czar. I'm not even kidding. That is a

real job at a real company whose stock is traded on the New
York Stock Exchange.
So, you should ask yourself as you set out on this next

It's an honor to be here and a privilege to spend these, your

phase of your life, What kind of job do I want to have?

final moments as students at this incredible institution,

Instagrammer in Residence? Resident Tech Specialist?

with you. You know, people ask me all the time what it is

Snackable Content Mastermind? SVP of Digital Imaging

that I do for a living. Surely a great question, but strangely

and Hyper Local Activations? Just make up a job title

enough, I don't know exactly what I do. I know that I make

and then go from there. You'll figure the rest out once

videos and I post funny things online. I know people pay

you convince one of these companies to hire you. You're

me to host events and to be at certain parties. But the truth

super smart. You are graduating from this place, so

about the jobs landscape at this moment in our country's

you're definitely not a complete dumb-dumb. Have some

history is that you don't have to do a traditional type of job

confidence. You're a strong, independent being and you

anymore. In fact, I encourage you not to.

deserve to have a great job and great life. It's like my

There used to only be about ten things that you could do

for a living: doctor, lawyer, teacher, secretary, accountant,
fireman, policeman-you get the picture. But forget that.

mentors, Ben and Jerry, once said: If it's not fun, why do
it? And they were right.
Create the job you want, pitch it to them, and they'll

We've moved beyond all of that. The traditional media will try

probably go for it. Who the hell wants a job that has a

their best to scare you into thinking that the job market is soft

one-word description? That sounds horrible. You know

and that it's never been harder to get work. But that is all lies!!!

what some jobs are that have one-word descriptions?

(Bang fist on podium, take dramatic pause.)

It's never been easier to get a job than right now. Every

Garbageman. Nazi.
If you're not into the whole tech thing, I totally get it.

single tech company and app company employs people and

It's really not for everybody. But don't feel sad. That doesn't

gives them completely made-up titles. I know a guy who

mean you can't just make up a job. Because, trust me, you

just got hired by the largest social media platform in the

still can. Be an entrepreneur and think of something that

world-it begins with F and ends with book-and his job

doesn't exist. Then create that thing. For example: dog

237

236

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

monocles. No one, and I mean no one, has done

that yet. But if marketed correctly you could
definitely get rich owning that space. There are
stupid people everywhere, and if they think it's
cool to buy their dog a monocle, then they will

(W

comprehend the notion of being a pilot, in the same way

that my dad can't understand how you can be a celebrity
for being on the Internet. It's just out of the realm of
understanding for someone of that generation.
But the reality is that this is where we are today. So get

definitely buy their dog a monocle. And if you don't go out

out there, follow your passion, live your fucking dreams like

there and create a dog monocle company, I guarantee that

Martin Luther King Jr., and don't listen to anybody who tells

someone else will. It can be whatever your passion is. Find a

you otherwise. And if you want to get a job with a one-word

space that no one has entered yet and create a need for your

title, then great! That's fine, too. Some people are into that

product or restaurant or workout technique. Follow your

boring stuff, and that's fine. You will get no judgments from

heart. Follow your dreams. You can achieve anything that

me. I mean, I do tons of wild stuff for my job that I'm sure

you set your mind to, and it will take you on the journey of

lots of people judge. Do you. Do what works.

a lifetime.
Look at me. I'm the unofficial poster child for Internet

In closing, I'd like to tell all of you that the next few years
of your life may seem horrible to you. And compared to

fame . I just did what my heart told me to do and I ended

the past four years, that may be true. But you have to work

up here, in front of all of you, so I know that following my

to make life fun. You have to try your best to make your

dreams was the right thing to do. Yes, most people over fifty

dreams come true!!

don't understand what I do for a living or take me seriously,

(Rip open graduation gown, releasing many doves, drop

but does that really matter? They are all going to be retired

microphone, get on a horse, ride horse into the open door of a

or dead soon, and they won't be able to say shit about the

helicopter that is standing by just off stage. As the helicopter

way the world is run. My father can't comprehend that I get

paid to do what I do. He was legitimately shocked when I
told him that I was going to be speaking here today. Trying

takes off and flies over the grads, drop little cute puppies
with tiny graduation caps and parachutes out of the

chopper. The sun sets in the background.)

to explain to him what I do for a living is what I imagine

it would be like to explain to a father in 1880 that your
job is to "drive a flying machine." He wouldn't be able to

See, my shit is on point. Anyone interested in booking me can

email me at #lSuperAmericanMotivationalSpeaker@Fat]ew.net.

hen I initially turned in a first draft of this book I was

fucking stoked. I'd spent months working on this thing, dredging

~,

up horrible memories from my past in an effort to entertain you,

the reader. I also sacrificed everything I enjoy in my life. Hav-

IIIII

en't sniffed coke off a stripper's C-section scar in months. Haven't

reupholstered any furniture (a secret passion of mine) in what
feels like forever. Haven't taken ecstasy and gone to the aquarium since I started writing. My penis hasn't been used in so long
that it's collecting dust; if you wanted to give me head, you'd have
to blow on it first, like people do when they find extremely old
books in movies. So you're welcome. After I sent the draft in, I

239

240

241

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JOS H "THE FA T JE W " O ST ROVSKY

was overjoyed. I could have ejaculated a rainbow of happiness.

"Hey, Maddie, what's up, dude? How's it hangin', bruh?"

I've never worked harder on anything in my life. I'd never worked

I was really overdoing the whole "I'm awake and been awake
this whole time" vibe.

on anything in my life. I had nothing left to give. I was tapped

creatively, but it felt kind of good. I'd spent the last half a year

"We're good over here. Thanks so much for sending the draft
over."

immersed in this book, and the notion of having some space from
it was intoxicating.
Massages, Netflix binges, eating entire wheels of brie cheese
in a single sitting, mani-pedis-all of these things were in my
very near future, and I couldn't have been more happy about it.
I just lay on my bed with my dog, Toast, licking my ear over and
over again. Sheer bliss. I was in a peaceful place for the first time

"No problem."
"Super excited to read it, but.. ."
So many horrible thoughts went through my head in a split
second. What could the but possibly be? She just said they haven't
read it yet. Was I that bad of a writer that they read the first page
and were like, no thanks?

in weeks. I think I dozed off for a second into a serene slumber of

"But what, Maddie? You're freaking me out right now."

nothingness and no responsibility.

"Sorry, I hate to do this. It's just that contractually you are

But that feeling of euphoria ended when my phone started

ringing. I recognized the number as my publisher, Grand Central.
Why were they calling me? How long had I been sleeping? Was
this one of those things where you are so spent from working so
hard that you basically hibernate for like a few days? Could they
have edited the book this quickly? Where the fuck am I? So many
questions.
I answered the phone quickly and abruptly, in the manner that
one can only achieve when they've been startled awake and are
trying to pretend that they weren't just sleeping.

supposed to deliver us a certain number of words for this book,

and there just aren't enough words right now."
"Wait, really?"
"Well, you do have a range, but as of now you are not in said
range, technically."

"Well ,fuck . My bad, dog."

"Yeah. I'm sure these page are amazing. I LOL'd at the TOC."
"Oh shit, that's amazing. What's the TOC?"
"Table of contents."
"Right, right, obviously. So how much more do I need to write?"

"Hello, this is me, how are you?"

"At least another two thousand words."

"Hey, Jew, it's Maddie."

"Uchhhhhh .. .I literally hate your guts right now."

Maddie is my editor's assistant. She has purple hair and is very

alt and fun . But I could sense she was in business mode, and I

"I know. I'm sorry. And we need it by the end of this week."
"Isn't it Thursday today?"

hated her for it.

"Yeah ... but if we are going to make the dates then we have

243

242

JOSH "THE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

to edit the whole book over the weekend and then it goes to
production right away."
"Dude, I have a mani-pedi appointment this morning, and
I'm supposed to go eat lunch at a new strip club in Brooklyn that
apparently has amazing gazpacho."
"You missed your deadline on this draft like three times."
"So this is definitely my fault."
"Yes. Definitely."
I hung up the phone in a state of complete denial. I
recorked the bottle of rose I was sipping and sat on the

NYU
INTERN SELF-EVALUATION
TISCH-NYU
INTERN'S NAME: MICHAEL M*****

~t!3

MENTOR'S NAME(S): JOSH "FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

DATES OF INTERNSHIP:

9/08/14-5/05/15

couch with my head in my hands.

Then, an email popped up on my phone. It was from my intern-

TOTAL NUMBER OF HOURS COMPLETED:

let's call him Mike to protect his identity. I've put him through

WHAT WERE YOUR ORIGINAL GOALS AND EXPECTATIONS FOR THE INTERNSHIP?

enough. The email subject was "Internship Self-Evaluation."

When I opened the email, I realized that it was from

Too many to count. A lot. Way more than I thought it was going to be.

I knew who the Fat Jew was via social media and Internet videos, and that is
what initially drew me to the job posting. I wanted to learn about using the Internet to reach an audience, and as a film major, 1 thought this was very appeal-

Mike, to his advisor at NYU. Mike was a junior and an

ing. But my goals and expectations for this internship were pretty much thrown

undergrad film major. He must've just copied me on

out the window the moment I arrived for my initial "interview" with Fat Jew,

the email so that I could read his version of what his life
had been like over the past semester, as my intern. I opened
the attached Word document containing the evaluation,
and my heart swelled with excitement. Also, once I read the first

back in September. I was told to meet him in Central Park, but when I arrived I
realized that there were four other NYU students, all vying for the same job. FJ
was nowhere to be found, but after about fifteen minutes of waiting and hanging
out with the other students, he appeared out of some shrubbery wearing a blue
wig, full makeup, and some sort of futuristic silk kimono. He had definitely
just seen The Hunger Games, because that movie had just come out and he

page of the self-evaluation, I knew that I would not be writing one

was speaking like Elizabeth Banks does in the film. He told us that we would

more word of this book. The evaluation would be a chapter in my

"embark on a scavenger hunt to win the majestic prize of an internship with

book. Because, honestly, nothing really captures the essence of

who I am more than what you are about to read.

him, and make our districts proud."

The whole feeling in the group quickly went from cordial and friendly to
extremely competitive. Beat out the others, at any cost possible. Looking back,
I wanted the internship so bad that I don ' t regret throwing that girl from South
Carolina into a trash can full of ramen noodles and making her cry.
I.

~I

244

245

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JOSH " THE FAT JEW " OSTROVSKY

SPECIFIC INTERNSHIP TASKS

Please list some of the specific tasks ass igned during the internship.

But I now know that I'm not comfortable lying to people about where my
boss is, where he has been, or where he is going. He also made me get my anus

Exceeded
Expectation

Met
Ex pectation

Need s
Improvement

Pick up FJ's onesies from dry cleaner

a limit to how far I' ll go in order to be a part of something that I deem useful.

Move his car on alternate side street parking days

Ia!

This was a huge lesson for me. I used to think that I would do anything to be a

Sew together a thong made of beef jerky

part of the entertainment industry, but I now realize that my personal happiness
is my top priority.

Fill giant bowl with chi li for FJ to bathe

in for vid shoot

Have a Hitler mustache for an entire week

ll

Sniff some of FJ's dried semen

Ia!

Learn French in under 12 hours

Plan a video shoot for Katie Couric interview

ll

Read everything to him, inducting emails, books,

text messages, street signs, menus

bleached, and that wasn ' t something I would want to partake in again. There is

WHAT WERE THE CHALLENGES OR LIMITATIONS OF THE INTERNSHIP?

The challenges began and ended with my boss, Fat Jew. He is a nice man. Funny, creative, smart, but with any personal assistant-type work, you are going to
see all sides of an individual. Picking up two hundred large fries from McDonald's at three a.m. on a Thursday and delivering to his apartment for a stunt he
was filming as a joke with his friends felt like an abuse of power. But the fact
that it ended up being a part of a really funny video that he posted on Instagram
the following day made it feel more like a worthy cause. This is a gray area for
me, but one that I'm getting a little more comfortable being in.
DID YOU HAVE ADEQUATE TRAINING AND ACCESS TO THE RESOURCES NEEDED TO
PERFORM ASSIGNED TASKS?
No one could be prepared in any way for being this man's intern. The level of
debauchery I encountered was always eye open ing and very often troubling.
NYU does not provide any of the resources that I needed to fulfill the tasks that
were asked of me during this year. But in a way that made me think outside the
box. I learned how to use creative problem solving almnst every time I was with
Fat Jew. It was horrendous and enlightening all at once.
HOW HAS YOUR INTERNSHIP EXPERIENCE INFLUENCED YOUR THINKING AND
FUTURE CAREER PLANS?

DO YOU FEEL THAT YOUR INTERNSHIP EXPERIENCE WAS USEFUL AND

WORTHWHILE? WHY OR WHY NOT?
I learned a lot about myself during these past nine months. I learned what 1' m
comfortable doing and what I'm definitely not comfortable doing. For example,

I'm thinking about going to dental school.

3.

1 realized 1 have no problem handling someone's personal tasks like running errands, picking up packages, walking dogs , etc., especially if the payoff is that 1
get to go to creative meetings about film and TV projects that I'm interested in.

Pretty fucking killer. Also, I just did a word count on this

chapter and I'm still just short of two thousand, so how about
2.

this:

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APOLOGME TS

pparently this is the part where I'm supposed to acknowl-

edge all the people that have helped me with this book and

to thank those that have helped to get to where I am in my life.

I'm not exactly sure. I wish that I could say what rappers and athletes do regarding their success, something like "Nobody gave me

anything, I put this shit on my back and made it happen! Alone! Like a
man!" but that would be the world's greatest lie. There have been
so many people who have helped make this shitshow real. But
before we get to that, I think it probably makes more sense for me
to take this opportunity to apologize to the people in my life for
all of the horrible things I've done to them since I was born. So
that's what I'm going to do. It's apologies and acknowledgments
all rolled into one, so yes, Apologments.
JOHN MAYER: Sorry I showed up that time I was supposed
to interview you for the E! Channel wearing a woman's
kimono and Daisy Duke booty shorts. I was only trying
to impress you, and I didn't mean to scare you off.
Maybe I can interview you sometime in the future?

251

253

252

JOSH "T HE FAT JEW" OSTROVSKY

MONEY PIZZA RESPECT

JANEANE GAROFALO: I'm sorry that I posted your phone

number on 1\vitter and then thousands of teens called you and
you had to change your number. Furthermore, I'm sorry that
when you saw me on the street in the West Village and screamed
at me I told you that you were about as funny as a terrible orphanage fire.
WINONA RYDER: Sorry I stole your number from a model's
phone and then texted you a couple harmless photos of my
nipples with tiny pepperonis drawn on them so they looked like
little pizzas. I'm also sorry that I then tweeted the number out
to the world. I did it out of love, obviously. I wanted you to feel
the support from your fans that I thought you deserved. Little
Winona, you've been through some rough times over the past ten
years and I only wanted to help. In all fairness I did get kicked off
of 1\vitter for posting your phone number.
LIL WAYNE: Sorry for running up to you in a Las Vegas casino
lobby screaming "Whoopi Goldberg! Whoopi Goldberg! I'm your
biggest fan!" and begging for your autograph, thus forcing your
security guard to choke me. I knew the whole time that you were
not in fact Whoopi Goldberg (although the resemblance is quite
striking), and I'm sorry.
P. DIDDY: Sorry for outing you as a homosexual. I'm pretty
sure you are, but I'm sorry.
REAL HOUSEWIFE OF NEW YORK KELLY BENSIMON: Sorry for
stealing your dirty underpants out of your hamper at your house
when you so kindly invited me to your cocktail party. They are
now hanging in my den, like the head of an elk.

MOM and DAD: I'm not sure what I have to apologize to you
for? Ohhhh, wait-that's right, for soiling the name and reputation
that you spent your entire lives building!
EVERY GIRL I'VE EVER HAD SEX WITH: You know that noise I
make while ejaculating? I'm sorry for that.
ANYONE WHO WAS THERE THAT ONE NIGHT I GOT
DRUNK AND DID THE BORAT VOICE: You know who you are,
and I regret doing that every single day of my life and will
continue to forever. I was very, very, very drunk, but that is no
excuse.
MY BODY: Last but certainly not least, I'm sorry to my body.
For drinking bleu cheese dressing out of the bottle with a straw,
for getting every tattoo that's ever been suggested to me by an
idiotic friend, and for eating six to eight meals a day, like a literal
fucking sea lion.
Now for the acknowledgments.
Thank you to David Oliver Cohen, Tainy, Byrd, Ben Greenberg,
Bowery Bobby, Gert Jonkers from Fantastic Man Magazine,
Brittney Crump, rap music (just in general), my shaman Corey,
Aaron, Yanina, Rocky Aoki for inventing Benihana, Baby Vinny,
Hal Winter, Penelope Ziggy, Miles Berland, Stanley Tucci,
Big Veends, Winston Doodooblatt, Alex Ferzan, Mr. and Mrs.
Kanye West, Mitchell Charap, KK, Toast, Muppet, Sunshine
Sachs, Jason Newman, and a special thank you to January
Jones, because without you I could never have written this
book. You inspire me daily, and always know the right thing
to say.

254

M O NE Y PIZZA RE SPE C T

Moose: we the best

Oh and DOC wants me to thank:

Cf~EIOITS

Cristi, Tanner, Maddie Caldwell, CC, Ray Ray and da kids,

Uncle Pookie and dem, Marshy, Stew-iana, Jess, Kay Waal, Jason
Richman, Caroline Powers, the Internet.

Comic Book: Brittney Crump

Doddles: Bobby "Bowery Bob" Waltzer
Coloring book: Daniel Amaya
Tyrese and Rashid a Jones drawings: Daniel Amaya
Various photos and artwork: Art Direction: Alexander Ferzan
Photo II Image Creation: Justin Waaland, Arizona Kay, Baka
SUPERETTE II superette.nyc
Fat Jew with his book: Guerin Blask
Fat Jew on Balcony with girls: CULPRIT CREATIVE II Pablo Escargot
Fat Jew eating a donut: Peter Svarzbein-www.MongoVision.com
for Heeb Magazine and David Kelsey
Girl Dressed as Fat Jew: Jess Uyeno
Fat Jew wearing Beef Jerky Clothing: Three Jerks LLC and Hagop
Kalaidijan

255