Josh Gondelman

I don’t have any fond childhood memories of gently applying tinsel to a fragrant tree while listening to “Jingle Bell Rock.” That song only dredges up a recollection of forcing my way through a seething, jolly throng of tryptophan-addled humanity at the mall the weekend after Thanksgiving.

Guys, we all know that what women say they want is different from what they actually need. Sure they might say they want a nice guy or a chance to study yoga in India, but that’s just a cover up for deeper needs that they usually won’t admit to. Fellas, no matter what ladies say, the things they need most are food, shelter, and potable drinking water.

My name is Josh Gondelman. I am not a violent person, and I am generally very law-abiding. I’ve never been skydiving, and I don’t like scary movies. That said, if you are planning a bank heist in the near future, I would really love to be a part of it.

For years, I refused to drink coffee. It seemed like too intense a stimulant for me. Even on my most sluggish mornings, I stuck to the soft stuff. Chai. Hot chocolate. Coca Cola. Usually those did the trick. The sugar and mild caffeine buzz gave me enough of a jolt to power through the workday.

When I was young, my parents taught me that I could do anything I put my mind to. As of today, I have resolved to become People magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive.”

Often, under run of the mill conditions, my brain will think totally inane things that I will process as normal. Even my outward reactions to these circumstances may read as perfectly reasonable. But please trust me that my thought processes have little to no connection with reality. Here are some of my myriad secret eccentricities.

Just because you know your mustache looks dumb doesn’t mean you’re playing a joke on the world. It still means the world has played a joke on your face.

This month alone, Groupon has offered me deals on theater tickets, yoga classes, French food, and an electric toothbrush. Thanks, Groupon for reminding me of all the things I don’t have the time, money, or courage to do.

At worst, it resembles rhinoceros burps. At best it comes off as elephant scat-singing. A trombone provides important texture for big band tunes, but on its own, it’s like having Chewbacca around without Han Solo. Loud, brash, and indecipherable.

And I must say, a few more red flags went up when I heard that the girl he’d fallen for this time was none other than Kim Kardashian herself. And when I say a few red flags, I mean it was like Chinese 4^th of July. No disrespect, Kim.

Also, I don’t mean to brag, but I generate a fair amount of body heat. In the summer, this means I get sweaty legs. That is my body’s way of communicating: “Back up off me! Now is not the time for this!”

It seems silly to develop feelings for a person you have never met. Especially if that person never existed or is rumored to be a dog (like Mandy from Barry Manilow’s “Mandy”). A great song, though, can evoke a disproportionate amount of emotion through lyrics and melody. It can even forge a connection to a potentially fictional human being.