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Ask me shit! About the author(s): MjH grew up in the suburbs of Encino, CA, born into a family of hilarious Jews. His mother, a witty New Yorker with a sharp tongue, set the bar pretty high in terms of what he looks for in a wife/Jewess/sport-fucking buddy. His father, a St. Louis cowboy at heart, reined him in as a child, only having to wash out his mouth with soap once during his early years.

Single, forever wearing glasses and on the hunt for Jewish cunt, our man finds himself thoroughly concerned with finding a wife, but more importantly, a bitch to lay with in the meantime.

Oh, and he wants me to tell you he he once schtupped a dame at DIVE! in Century City back in '01.

Copyright 2009-2010 BlackBerry Jew Squeeze

Name: Molly aka Mollo Occupation: Failed actor Ideal Man: Nick Swardson meets Nick Cave meets Officer Candidate Zack Mayo…preferably wearing Vans. Turn Ons: Whiskey, dirty humor, chivalry, aggressiveness… Turn Offs: Silence at breakfast, anger, ‘jam bands’… Song that always makes me feel girly/romantic/nostalgic/swoony: “Dark End of the Street,”-Percy Sledge Embarrassing confession: I listen to dirty rap when I work out and pretend I’m the girl in the rap song. It makes feel like if I work out hard enough, then maybe one day I’ll have a body worthy of thug love. Relation to Sir MJH: Oh boy. Where to begin. When I think of Matt these are the first memories that come to mind: 1) Matt attempting to use the “if you can make them laugh you can make them yours” approach to getting chicks by regaling a group of my high school girlfriends with an adorable story about his mom spreading antifungal cream on his butthole or something like that. Really, who doesn’t swoon picturing their crush spreading his cheeks for his mommy? EPIC FAIL. 2) Matt, post breakup with his dreamgirl, showing up to a house party with “You’re just somebody that I used to know” scrawled in huge letters in Sharpie around his wrist. Poor Elliott Smith. All the beauty of his simple, sad, and haunting lyrics… swirling about in your mopey armhair while you lifted another keystone to your lips, drowning away the devastating sorrow you felt over a girl you would undoubtedly be back together with by the end of the night, slowly romancing to “Wild Horses.” Ugh, barf. 3) Matt sitting on a curb outside some bar on Sunset, telling me (while he hung his head between his knees) that he had written a novel, a-la Brett Easton Ellis, about growing up in L.A., girls, and cocaine, and he wanted me to read it. He said he wanted my opinion because I’ve read enough Didion to “get it”…but he didn’t really need my opinion because he already knew it was “fucking genius.” Then he started puking. EPIC EGO. By the way, you optioned that genius yet? In all truth I love Matt Hausy with all my heart. He always writes the sweetest birthday cards, makes girls feel pretty, tries to give me good advice, and is as loyal as they come. He is also a disgusting pig and needs to get punched in the face a lot of the time. That being said, this blog of his needs a lot of help. It is unbelievably masturbatory (literally) and there is not one shred of female opinion anywhere in it, though there is an overabundance of opinion on females. Matt, you claim to be so enthralled with the mystery that lies behind sex and relationships. However, where most blogs interview others, post stories written by others, ask the opinions of OTHERS, yours is entirely based on you, your thoughts, your opinions, and your semen. How are you ever gonna figure out the things you can’t understand on your own if you never look outward for answers? Woah, I’m getting heavy here…can you dig it? I’m here to help. I want to try to clue you into the fascinating opinions and stories that exist in the minds and hearts of other people, which you’d be privy to if you could force yourself to be interested in anything but your own boner for 30 seconds. Maybe you will learn what you’ve been trying to figure out, maybe you will just get some great footage for your spank bank. Either way, how ‘bout we get some estrogen flowing in this Squeeze?

Name: Molly aka Mollo

Occupation: Failed actor

Ideal Man: Nick Swardson meets Nick Cave meets Officer Candidate Zack Mayo…preferably wearing Vans.

Turn Ons: Whiskey, dirty humor, chivalry, aggressiveness…

Turn Offs: Silence at breakfast, anger, ‘jam bands’…

Song that always makes me feel girly/romantic/nostalgic/swoony: “Dark End of the Street,”-Percy Sledge

Embarrassing confession: I listen to dirty rap when I work out and pretend I’m the girl in the rap song. It makes feel like if I work out hard enough, then maybe one day I’ll have a body worthy of thug love.

Relation to Sir MJH:

Oh boy. Where to begin. When I think of Matt these are the first memories that come to mind:

1) Matt attempting to use the “if you can make them laugh you can make them yours” approach to getting chicks by regaling a group of my high school girlfriends with an adorable story about his mom spreading antifungal cream on his butthole or something like that. Really, who doesn’t swoon picturing their crush spreading his cheeks for his mommy? EPIC FAIL.

2) Matt, post breakup with his dreamgirl, showing up to a house party with “You’re just somebody that I used to know” scrawled in huge letters in Sharpie around his wrist. Poor Elliott Smith. All the beauty of his simple, sad, and haunting lyrics… swirling about in your mopey armhair while you lifted another keystone to your lips, drowning away the devastating sorrow you felt over a girl you would undoubtedly be back together with by the end of the night, slowly romancing to “Wild Horses.” Ugh, barf.

3) Matt sitting on a curb outside some bar on Sunset, telling me (while he hung his head between his knees) that he had written a novel, a-la Brett Easton Ellis, about growing up in L.A., girls, and cocaine, and he wanted me to read it. He said he wanted my opinion because I’ve read enough Didion to “get it”…but he didn’t really need my opinion because he already knew it was “fucking genius.” Then he started puking. EPIC EGO. By the way, you optioned that genius yet?

In all truth I love Matt Hausy with all my heart. He always writes the sweetest birthday cards, makes girls feel pretty, tries to give me good advice, and is as loyal as they come. He is also a disgusting pig and needs to get punched in the face a lot of the time. That being said, this blog of his needs a lot of help. It is unbelievably masturbatory (literally) and there is not one shred of female opinion anywhere in it, though there is an overabundance of opinion on females.

Matt, you claim to be so enthralled with the mystery that lies behind sex and relationships. However, where most blogs interview others, post stories written by others, ask the opinions of OTHERS, yours is entirely based on you, your thoughts, your opinions, and your semen. How are you ever gonna figure out the things you can’t understand on your own if you never look outward for answers? Woah, I’m getting heavy here…can you dig it?

I’m here to help. I want to try to clue you into the fascinating opinions and stories that exist in the minds and hearts of other people, which you’d be privy to if you could force yourself to be interested in anything but your own boner for 30 seconds. Maybe you will learn what you’ve been trying to figure out, maybe you will just get some great footage for your spank bank. Either way, how ‘bout we get some estrogen flowing in this Squeeze?


March 8
molly introduction mollo